Mission Five: Chapter 11 - “Keep safe, LT.”

Smooth as silk... Face thought to himself, so far this thing is running as smooth as silk! And that, inevitably, was the point when the whole thing went down the pan.

 

They’d got through the garden again no problems. Climbed the cedar tree without issue and skirted around the ledge, to the front this time, until they were right in front of the single circular window, tucked under the roof, right in the middle of the house. Face had jimmied it open and slid inside, finding himself two short metres away from the locked door to Hannibal’s attic room, he’d forced himself to focus, turned his back to the door to make sure that Murdock and BA could get in, when chaos down at the front gates drew all their eyes.

 

It was pitch black, almost one in the morning, and the noise of screaming kids was unsettling to say the least. Face stuck his head back out of the window just as BA paused with one leg in and one leg out and they both peered out into the darkness below but it was Murdock’s keen eyes that spotted the danger first.

 

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no!” he murmured, the tone of his voice chilling Face down to his bones, “It’s them damn kids, LT! What the hell do they think they’re doin’?!”

 

In a second it became obvious what they thought they were doing as they all started banging on the locked gates with sticks and metal pipes, screaming and shouting and drawing the armed guards away from the house and out along the driveway.

....

“Jesus Christ!” Face breathed, “They’re all gonna get killed! What the fuck are they thinking?!”

 

A guard fired a couple of warning shots into the air and one of the kids screamed in fright as Face swore again. He looked over his shoulder at the door to Hannibal’s prison, a tiny, insignificant padlock all that stood between him and the boss and swore once more, very loudly as he swung his leg back through the window and out onto the ledge, that single act of motion that very hardest, the most excruciatingly painful thing he had ever done in his whole life.

 

He grabbed onto the wooden frame and prepared to haul himself back out into the cold night air but a hand on his chest stopped him and he froze, looking up into BA’s face, but finding his expression unreadable in the darkness. “We got this LT,” the big guy whispered. “You don’ have to leave him. Me an’ the fool got this.”

 

Face still had one leg in and out of the building, his body as undecided as his mind, but then that big hand moved, reaching up to his shoulder and squeezing gently, not pushing or shoving and Face felt the warmth from those fingers seeping into his skin, “Do, what you gotta do, man,” BA whispered, and then he and Murdock turned and disappeared into the darkness.

 

 In a split second Face was back in the corridor. Stealth wasn’t needed now, not thanks to Sasha and his little gang, so he just drew his gun and blasted the lock off the door, all it needed then was a well placed kick, the door flew open and Face was inside. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the thick black dark of the room but Face didn’t wait, he knew from his earlier visit where Hannibal would be, could hear some movement and fell to his knees hands reaching out into the blackness, “Hannibal?” He sounded like a lost child, knew he did, hated himself for sounding like that, but, god he just needed this.

 

At last his grasping fingers found clothing and then cold, clammy skin and chains and Face just surged forward, knowing how inappropriate this was, knowing they should get up and get going, but the need for Hannibal was only intensifying.

 

“Oh, kid...” and those words made him and broke him all at the same time. He could read everything they said, how in despair Hannibal had been, how cold and hurt and scared, how he’d been scared for himself and for Face and for the team, and how now that Face was here, he’d been given everything back again.

 

He squeezed hard, once, allowing himself just that, but feeling the solid cold of Hannibal’s body, the fevered heat in his forehead and his gut set in need for swift and brutal revenge.

 

“Good to see you, boss,” he whispered, forcing himself to pull away, his eyes finally adjusting to the dark of the room even as his hands found the chains and started to work at the locks.

 

“And you,” Face’s stomach twisted as he registered that exhausted tone to his voice, “What the hell you got going on out there? Sounds like recess...”

 

Face allowed himself a dark chuckle as the lock sprang open in his fingers, “Oh, believe me, you don’t want to know.” He peeled the chains from Hannibal’s wrists, feeling hot, scabbed skin under his fingers and his thirst for revenge doubled. “Can you walk though, boss? We need to get going, I can help you, hell, I’ll carry you if you want, but we need-” 

 

“Oh, how touching!” Face froze, icy fingers running down his neck as that voice sounded behind him. “As soon as I heard that debacle outside, I knew it had something to do with you, Smith! Don’t move, either of you.”

.....

Light spilling in from the open door meant that it was possible for the two men to see each other clearly for the first time since Face had kicked the door in, and their eyes met now, each trying to say something in the few seconds of silence, Face’s shoulder blades itching in anticipation of a bullet at any moment. Hannibal looked dreadful, his skin waxy and taut over his cheek bones, his eyes were glazed with fever and his lips were parched and dry. He’d obviously been on the end of more than a couple of beatings but it was the look in his eyes, the re-emergence of the desperation that Face had known was there earlier that cut Face to the quick. In a moment of utter clarity, Face suddenly realised that he had put that look there. Hannibal had relied on him to do this, to make this plan, to get them all safe, and Face had failed, turned his back to the door and switched his ears off when he knew he didn’t have anyone covering his ass.

 

And now Barsukov was back and he was going to kill Face and then kill the boss as well. He’d failed. That’s all he was, a spectacular failure.

 

Hannibal’s tired eyes were watching him, could see the turmoil in his expression and Face saw a little frown crease Hannibal’s brow as he wondered what was whipping through Face’s mind. At that moment Face knew then that this was the way it was going to end. That he had let Hannibal down, should never have let Hannibal down, and he would give his life this night trying to put that right. He would not let this bastard kill his boss.

 

“Put your guns down soldier,” Barsukov whispered at Face. “Both of them, I know you have a hand gun somewhere as well.”

 

Face didn’t turn around but kept his eyes fixed on Hannibal’s the whole time he flipped his guns away, mind whirling around their predicament, twisting and turning like a cornered eel trying to find a way out.

 

“I’m so glad we have a friend to play with now, Colonel, don’t you? All those games we never got around to the last time, I’ve always regretted that.” Hannibal’s eyes turned even bleaker, “Have you ever heard your man scream? Well, you will get that chance tonight as I slowly take him apart in front of you, piece by piece until he is begging for death. I’m looking forward to this. You can suffer the slow, painful death of a friend just as I suffered poor Igor’s death.” Barsukov seemed to lose himself in the moment for a minute, but Face had barely even been listening, one final idea was fermenting in his mind, a possibility that might just get the boss out of here alive...

 

Snapping back into himself, Barsukov barked out, “You! Soldier! Move away from the Colonel, nice and slow, back off and then turn around to face me.”

 

This was it. Barsukov could not have played more into his hands here if he had tried to, Face held Hannibal’s eyes for one more second, trying to say everything he needed, before looking away, allowing that focus to, belatedly, slip into place and back up, slowly, slowly, just as Barsukov had ordered.

 

“Enough!” the Russian snapped, “Now turn so I can see your eyes, I suspect you are the same pretty little Lieutenant from the tracks aren’t you?”

 

Still Face was barely listening, he was calculating, working out every split second of timing, how crucial this all was, how vitally important for Hannibal it was that he got it right. He turned, slow and smooth, six feet away from Barsukov, nothing in his movements to alert the man that he was a danger, nothing at all, slow and smooth, slow and smooth, turning around, lifting his face, bland and neutral up to Barsukov, he saw the victory in the Russian’s face, saw him narrow his eyes at Face, wondering... saw those cold, killer’s eyes flick back to Hannibal and then, like a panther, Face sprang. Knife flying from his left hand, aiming for that gun hand, the rest of his body a hard and heavy projectile, intent on taking Barsukov right back into the wall, using the wall as a weapon.

....

The partial success was more than he had really dared hope for. His aim with the knife was true, the so-sharp blade slicing across an exposed forearm, as it passed by, a starburst of blood covering Barsukov, the wall and Face at the same time. The gun was dropped in haste, but not before a single bullet blasted out into the room. Face felt the white hot agony as it flared in his belly, but he pushed it down. There was no time to think of gut shots here, of slow, agonising deaths, bleeding out in the back of a car while his team mates tried to rush him to an extraction point... No, he couldn’t think about any of that, he still needed to take this bastard down.

 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hannibal stagger to his feet, going for Face’s gun, but stumble and fall even as Face hit Barsukov with the force of a steam train. He knocked them both into the wall and managed a good, hard punch across the face before Barsukov’s knee, in a totally accidental reaction to the punch, flew up into Face’s stomach, making him scream in pain, magnesium stars flashing across his vision. He knew he was in trouble, knew that now Barsukov realised he was compromised it was all over, and so dived full length for the fallen gun, feeling that fire in his belly once more, but knowing it was this or die, and his fingers found the handle, he rolled onto his back, already aiming, finger already on the trigger to find Barsukov poised over him with the knife in his left hand and murder on his face.

 

They both froze in stalemate, “Drop it,” Face breathed, “You know I can shoot you before you even ready that thing.”

 

Barsukov smiled a cold smile at him, “Maybe, but I will still let it fly. It will still gut you.”

 

Face smiled back, “But then you will be dead,” he whispered, “and what happens to me after that? I really don't give a fuck.”

 

Barsukov faltered at the cold delivery of that line, and Face took his chance, two shots, one in a shoulder, one in a leg. He wasn’t out to kill the bastard really, no, had something much better up his sleeve than that. Supposing he still had the chance to carry that out of course...

 

The Russian collapsed in a heap on the floor and Face quickly knocked him out with couple of rabbit punches. The knife had come his way, but only glanced his shoulder as it passed, cut by his favourite knife, he thought as he crawled over to Hannibal, how much did that suck? 

 

The boss was sprawled out across the floor on his stomach; Face ignored the pain in his own belly to quickly check the him over. He couldn’t see any serious injury, couldn’t see anything that would cause too much concern, figured that Hannibal had just tried to do too much too quickly, weak from hunger, dehydration and enforced inactivity.

 

He’d learned his lesson this time though, and while he collected up the weapons and locked Hannibal’s chains around Basukov’s wrists, he kept one ear on the door, concerned at the silence which had ominously fallen outside. Finally, he was ready to leave. Stubbornly refusing to look at his own wound, he gently hauled the boss up over his shoulder, silently seething at the sharp stench of human waste and slipped, silently, out of the door.

....

His progress was slow, he was unwilling to blast straight into a gun battle with Hannibal exposed like this, plus the extra weight he was carrying, the way he could feel the hot blood seeping through his clothes...

 

He reached the top of the staircase, and paused, wondering the best way to descend when he felt a weak tap on his back and he dropped to his knees, easing Hannibal back onto his feet and helping him to stand. “You okay?” he whispered, moving the boss to lean against the wall behind him, “We just need to get out of the house, and I’ve got a car waiting out back.”

 

Hannibal took a moment, his hand gripping Face’s arm tightly, finding his feet, obviously waiting for the world to stop spinning, “Yeah, kid, I’m fine,” his voice was so quiet, almost like a breath that Face frowned, holding onto him more securely, worried he was going to keel over again. Hannibal noticed Face’s concern and pulled himself up off the wall a bit, one hand reaching out to cup his boy’s face, his blue eyes, still a little glassy, reaching out to Face’s soul, “I’m fine kid, thanks to you.” A thumb reached out and brushed over his cheek bone and Face couldn’t stop himself from leaning into the touch, closing his eyes and just for a moment letting himself believe that everything was going to be alright. “You found me...” Hannibal whispered and Face’s eyes flicked open at the emotion in his words, “I thought I was lost... You came for me.”

 

“Of course I came for you,” Face whispered in reply, “Hannibal, I... I would never have stopped looking until I found you. Never. I was never going to let you go.”

 

The desperation and determination were clear in his voice and they tugged at Hannibal’s heart, his thumb stroked a little harder, trying to wipe away that all that pain hiding just beneath the surface, and he wondered what agonies Face had endured to be standing here right now.

 

The screech of an owl in the trees outside made them both jump and brought Face’s focus sharply back to the task at hand; he reached into the waistband of his combats, pulling out his hand gun and passing it over to his boss. Hannibal’s eyes slid into clear focus and he nodded, his voice sounding much stronger now, “Okay kid, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

 

Face squeezed Hannibal’s arm and turned back to the stairs, taking point, leading them down, all his senses sharpened, determined that he wouldn’t fail Hannibal again, not now when they were so, so close...

 

A noise ahead made him stop, Hannibal right behind him, hot breath gusting over his neck, and he readied his gun, leaning out ever so slightly, hands steady, but his pulse thumping loudly in his ears. He saw a dark shape up the corridor ahead of him, and nodded to the boss to wait, forcing himself into calmness, then spinning around, gun raised, pointing straight into Murdock’s face.

 

“Geez!” Face hissed as he quickly pulled his gun back, “Report, Captain?”

 

Murdock’s eyes flicked to Hannibal and his whole face lit up in a grin, he reached out, grabbing his colonel’s hand tightly in his own, welcoming him back, while quickly giving his report to Face, “All hostiles contained, LT, we managed to pick a couple of them off and the rest just threw down their guns, seems they were farm guys too...” both Face and Murdock frowned at that.

 

“The kids?” Face asked, hardly daring to hear the answer.

 

“All fine,” Murdock reported, “Or at least they will be, until BA gets hold of them...”

 

“And me...” Face muttered darkly. “Right, HM, we need to bug out. You take the boss and get straight to the car, BA and I will finish up here and meet you there. Okay?”

 

Murdock snapped off a lazy salute, “Sure thing, LT,” then he nodded at Hannibal, huge grin on his face, “You ready to get out of here, boss?”

 

 

“Am I ever...” Hannibal growled. He’d watched the interaction between Face and Murdock with interest, Face had never done that before, taken charge in front of Hannibal, and it stirred something deep inside the older man. He winced as he pushed off from the wall and squeezed Face’s arm as he passed by, “Keep safe, LT,” he murmured as he and Murdock slid away into the shadows.

Next Chapter