indigo_angels

Hannibal listened to Face’s shower running the next morning while he made coffee and Danish pastries in the kitchen, and wondered if this was the eye of the storm or just the calm before it. Either way, he knew this thing hadn’t blown over completely yet; Face was still convinced he was leaving the army, he’d asked Hannibal if they could go over and see the General today, start the ball rolling so to speak. Hannibal had been very noncommittal about the whole thing, then he’d waited for Face to go out on his run, and called Russ anyway, just really wanting to tell him the kid was back, and if other things did or didn’t come up in conversation then so be it.

As it happened, other things did come up in conversation. Things that meant Russ would no doubt be very unreceptive to thoughts of Face leaving. And the evidence of these ‘things’ had just been couriered over to Hannibal to look at for himself. He’d been surprised, and started wondering just how many other facts Face had left out of his account of the mission in Russia. It had certainly made Hannibal think, and as he put the coffee pot, pastries and large manila envelope down on the breakfast bar, he hoped they’d make Face think twice as well.

Eventually Face appeared at the doorway, looking happy and refreshed; Hannibal smiled at him, thinking that hot morning sex could certainly do that for a person. He slid onto the stool next to his boss and piled four Danishes onto his plate, surreptitiously glancing at Hannibal as he remembered the scene in the kitchen the previous afternoon and the bag being dropped to the floor... Noticing his sheepish expression, Hannibal just gripped his thigh through the material of his jeans and picked up the manila envelope.

“What’s that boss?” Face asked as he picked the pecans off the top of a Danish and popped them into his mouth. Hannibal couldn’t hold back his frown as he slid the papers out of their envelope and laid them out in front of Face, one by one.

“Photo of the cellar in Barsukov’s house, full of guns creamed from the Russian army; a copy of a receipt, made out to Barsukov for forty seven AK-103s and 4 GP30 Grenade launchers, paid for in US dollars; a copy of a page of a log book, detailing money in and arms out, all coming through Barsukov,” Hannibal glanced up at Face who was looking at the pictures with a fairly disinterested look on his face as he munched his way steadily through his pastry, so he laid another sheet out in front of him, “A printout of contacts in the Russian army, who, supposedly, have been supplying Barsukov with these weapons; a printout of contacts in the US, who, supposedly have been buying these weapons,” still Face didn’t react, Hannibal pulled out another sheet, “A copy of the contract taken out on the life of one, Alexi Shubukin, freelance reporter, who was killed while investigating arms going missing from Russian army bases; a copy of the offences Barsukov is currently being charged with back in Moscow...” At last Face showed some interest, and lifted the last sheet from the counter, studying it impassively for a few minutes before putting it back and picking up another Danish.

Hannibal watched him, then leaned forward, “Face?”

Face’s eyes flicked up to him, “Yeah, boss?”

“Where do you think that the Russian authorities got all this dirt on Barsukov then?”

Face finished up his Danish and wiped his fingers on his jeans, “Yeah, I lifted it from his safe, dropped it in with the local Militsyia before I left.”

Hannibal nodded slowly, “But that safe had been raided before, no evidence was ever found.”

“Huh! Sneaky little fucker had a secret panel at the back, separate lock and everything! Bet the people who searched it before didn’t even know it was there.”

“But you did?”

“Good guess, boss, that’s all. Barsukov may be a nasty son of a bitch, but he’s not a fool.”

Hannibal turned back to the pile of evidence in front of him and thought for a moment, “So, how did you even know that Barsukov was running the gig? Back in the day he was nothing more than a glorified secretary, I never thought he had it in him.”

Face poured himself some coffee, “I didn’t find anything out boss, it was Sasha, he told me that Barsukov sold guns for the streets. Looking at the size of that house, I just figured he was probably into something a little more profitable as well, thought I’d see what I could find in his safe.”

There was another minute of silence before Hannibal spoke again, “Funny thing is though...” Face looked up at him over the rim of his coffee cup, “Seems like all of Barsukov’s money has just disappeared. All his accounts have been emptied, no cash in the safe, nothing. Barsukov is furious, he’s blaming the Russian authorities for stealing it all.”

Raising his eyebrows a little Face nodded, “Probably did.”

“Hmmm,” Hannibal agreed, “But I did a little checking myself, seems that each one of those street kids suddenly has a small fortune awaiting them when they turn eighteen.”

Face just smiled at him, “Fairy Godmother?” he asked innocently.

Hannibal smiled back, “I don’t know how you did it, kid...”

But he faltered as Face’s smile vanished, “Yeah,” he whispered sliding off the stool and heading for the door, “me either.”

“Hey,” Hannibal caught his arm as he tried to pass, “don’t start that again, kid. All of this here,” he swung his arm out at the papers on the counter, “will put that bastard away for life. And has stopped the flow of guns into the states from Russia.”

“For now...” Face muttered.

“Yes! For now!” Hannibal snapped, “But it’s better than nothing and no one knew who was responsible, no one had any intel at all until you came up with all this, you know that?”

Face looked back at the all the sheets laid out in the kitchen and shrugged.

“You’ve done an incredible job. Russ is over the moon, wants to see you as soon as, plenty of other big brass are thrilled with you as well, kid! And I’m just so damn proud...”

He reached out with his other hand and tugged Face to him, drinking in the smell of his shampoo, rubbing his hand over the hard planes of his back, and then freezing as he heard the words, “I still want to leave though,” as they were whispered almost into his ear.

___________________

It had been at that point that Hannibal realised he needed a plan. Face seemed set on his course of action, and Hannibal knew that any attempt to simply persuade the kid otherwise would involve him digging his heels in and being stubborn for the sheer hell of it. It was also imperative to keep him away from Russell Morrison for at least the next few days as well. Russ was thrilled with Face, this job with Barsukov was a jewel in his crown as far as he was concerned, and Face the new wonder kid who had produced it. Any suggestion from Face about leaving would be met with anger and probably derision from Russ at this particular point, he was having far too much fun throwing back into people’s faces all the comments they had made about Smith’s little band of misfits and the trouble they would undoubtedly cause.

And then of course Face would blow up and engage in some dreadfully insubordinate behaviour that Hannibal may or may not be able to save him from, but either way, it would taint his relationship with the General for good, possibly damage it beyond repair and that was the very last thing that Hannibal needed given the long term plans he had for this team. Face and Morrison were just far too similar to get along that well; Hannibal knew damn well it was that fact that made them the only two people he had ever fallen in love with.

So, a plan was required, and Hannibal thought he might just have exactly what was needed blossoming hopefully in the back of his mind. He made a few phone calls, exchanged a couple of texts and it was all on. Now, all he had to do was convince Face to play along.

“Hey,” he leaned over the counter in the kitchen and watched as Face shoved almost the entire contents of his kit bag from Russia straight into the washing machine, “how do you fancy a few days away, kid?”

Face paused with his hand deep in the depths of his bag, “Work or play?” he queried cautiously.

“Play, definitely play,” Hannibal clarified.

Nodding as he turned back to the washer Face shoved another handful of filthy clothing into the drum, “You know I’m always up for that, boss.”

“Good,” Hannibal beamed down at him. “You remember that beach house we used? On Tybee Island?”

Again Face turned around to look at him. Seriously? How could he ever forget? It was the most beautiful house set right on the beach, huge windows looking out at the Atlantic, pool and hot tub on the deck, roof garden with a barbeque, and the biggest bed he had ever seen in his entire life. He and the boss had gone there after Face had been shot in the thigh about eighteen months ago, it was a holiday let, but some friend of the boss had let them have it cheap. It had been absolutely idyllic. “Of course I remember,” he knew his smile reflected exactly which parts of that break he was currently remembering, “we going back there?”

Hannibal nodded lazily at him, enjoying the look of anticipation on the kid’s face. “Sure are, I’ve managed to get the place for ten days, starting tomorrow.”

Face was on his feet in seconds, arms around the boss, mouth pressed into the junction between neck and shoulder, “Oh, you are the best boss,” he whispered, but then pulled away, a frown creasing his forehead, “But... you think the General will let us have the time? I mean – well – he can’t have been too thrilled with the extra time I stayed out in Russia for...”

“Are you kidding?” Hannibal held him back to look in his eyes, “After all that,” he nodded at the manila envelope as it lay innocently on the counter top, “I think Russ would probably foot the bill for a luxury villa in Bermuda for you!”

Face just smiled back, “Beach house with you is all I need right now, boss.”

Hannibal pulled him back in, feeling the warmth of those lips on his neck. Phase one of his plan; complete.

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