Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody. - Mark Twain
The doctor had left some twenty minutes before, after lecturing the group about foolishly risking Face's life with "that stupid idiotic stunt". Face, the painkillers beginning to kick in, just kept grinning as he repeated the saga of the car's flight - over and over. He was now sleeping soundly in his room, the doctor insisting he stay overnight. Just in case. Hannibal had taken the angry diatribe without a word and gone outside for a smoke when the doctor left. The remaining three men sat in the private waiting room.
Quiet. Tired. Anxious.
Funny how so many things could do a one-eighty so quickly. Face, eager to be out with the team again, agreeing to a minor accessory role, then suddenly jumping that damn car. Hannibal's earlier angry call and implied threat to Stockwell had turned into possibly getting their pardons early. And now, instead of meeting the general back at the compound as planned, he was forced to come to the hospital.
Where they were not supposed to be.
Frankie jumped when the door swung open. BA glanced up, shook his head, and went back to staring at the floor. Murdock glared before deliberately turning his back on Stockwell, Carla, and the handful of Ables who surrounded them.
"Where's Colonel Smith?"
Oh, yeah, he wasn't happy at this turn of events. Never was when they attracted attention.
When no one else responded, Frankie nervously cleared his throat. "He stepped outside for a smoke. He'll be right back."
Stockwell nodded and two Ables immediately left the room. Frankie quietly sat back down on the couch, glancing at the others. He wasn't going to do anything to aggravate things.
A few minutes later, the Ables returned. Alone.
"Alright, where is he? The truth this time!"
He certainly had their undivided attention now.
*****
Hannibal figured he had maybe thirty minutes before Stockwell showed up, full of fire and brimstone, forgetting again that the team came first. He wasn't worried about the guys acting out. Not too much. Not with Face out for the count. And they could honestly say they hadn't a clue as to Hannibal's whereabouts. Until the general knew that, he wouldn't do anything drastic.
Of course, none of them had expected to end up at the hospital. The diversion with the car had done Face good mentally, but physically... Nobody noticed anything at first. He was a bit slower, a bit impatient, more sarcastic. Just as he'd been those weeks he'd been stuck at the compound. Then he'd suddenly gotten pale, shaky...
They'd probably pushed the envelope a little too far, too soon. No, definitely had.
Face wasn't totally healed up. Wouldn't be for some time yet. Hannibal knew it, and no doubt the general did, too. And that was the ace Stockwell held. A way to keep the team around a while longer. Hell, he held all four aces there. But that was why Hannibal had stolen away.
He intended to deal his team a straight flush.
*****
AG Liebster was not a stupid man. He knew that elderly cafe owner hadn't taken down those thugs. He also knew that when someone like General Stockwell asked him to go along with it, you listened.
He didn't like people like Stockwell. Knew they were a necessary evil, but an evil just the same. Working in the background, taking out the trash, collecting favors. Building power. Easy enough for the minions who worked for those people to convince 'civilians' to go along with whatever story was concocted. The magic phrase - National Security. Worked every time. With civilians.
But Liebster knew it had been a very specific attempt for a very specific reason. Nothing at all to do with national security. No reason to hush things up. Except for those men. Those two men he had seen. The men he'd been able to identify. Very discreetly, of course. When you're the Attorney General you can do that. But it was more puzzling than illuminating. The one was a former special effects guy. Just disappeared one day. No sign of him until that night. At least, officially.
Then there was the second man, the waiter. It had been surprisingly easy finding him - Vietnam vet who appeared prominently at the trial of that "A-Team" bunch. He disappeared after their so-called execution, then showed up in the DC area, working odd jobs. Which made no sense.
No sense unless General Stockwell had called on you.
So he'd listened. Gone along with it. To a point. Because he was also a stubborn man.
He refused extra security after the incident. It was just for show. A diversion. He was not about to abdicate his already limited privacy because of it. And he trusted his staff. He'd hand-picked most of them. Which was probably why he didn't notice, until it was too late, that his chauffeur had not taken him home after the theater. And only realized it wasn't his chauffeur when the man looked at him over the seat.
"Sorry about this, Mr Attorney General, but I don't have a lot of time to waste. I need you to do something for me. Actually, for the guys who really did save your bacon a few weeks ago. And I'm afraid I can't take no for an answer."
AG Liebster was not a stupid man. It didn't take him more than a few seconds to realize who he was talking to. And that waiter being out here made all kinds of sense then.
"I'm listening..."
*****
Carla and three Ables were still at the hospital when Hannibal returned. He wasn't surprised, either by their presence or by Stockwell's absence. The general did have an empire to run, after all. Hannibal glanced at the clock over the door. Even though it had taken him longer than he'd hoped, he could still smile. Stockwell's empire was about to get a little smaller, a little less autonomous.
But only if he insisted that they still did things 'his way'. That was the promise Liebster had reluctantly given him, to leave things alone 'unless'. But then, he hadn't any more choice than Stockwell would have.
Carla was already on the phone. The Ables had straightened, gun arms loose and ready. BA, Murdock, and even Frankie, were sitting up in their chairs, attentive, ready to react if needed.
Hannibal smiled at all of them, letting them know he had everything under control. So far, anyway. He still had his talk with Stockwell to get through, but he felt confident it would end in his favor. Once again, he felt grateful that Face was on his team. Months of letting Stockwell and even his own teammates think he wasn't much more than another body to help get the job done - Face's biggest scam ever. Little excursions now and then, harmless questions here and there, a bit of burglary from time to time, and a 'harmless' diary kept religiously - all designed to give Hannibal the ammunition he needed for this operation. Neither man had known when or why they would need it, but they knew one day they would.
The plan had come together. Just not by the front door this time.