The Long and Winding Road Hannibal/Face Part 6

[indigo_angels]

Joey Pacitto smiled at the screen of the laptop in front of him. “You were right George; he is using that e-mail account. Now, get someone out there to pick him up before the cavalry arrives.”    

 

“Yes, Boss,” and George, Pacitto’s burly henchman immediately flipped open his phone and started barking instructions into it.

 

Pacitto laughed to himself as he watched messages flick up onto his screen, “You may have evaded the authorities, Peck, but you sure as hell aren’t going to get away from me that easily.”

 

__________________________

 

BA couldn’t park so dropped Hannibal at the interchange and said he would do a couple of laps waiting to pick them up again.

 

Hannibal saw the cafe across the road and was just about to start making his way through the traffic when the whole world seemed to explode. He threw himself to the ground as gun shots rang out in the afternoon air, quickly followed by the sounds of running and screaming as pedestrians all around were thrown into a panic. He dragged his gun out of the holster under his jacket and frantically scanned the surrounding area, his eyes picking out Face as he vaulted over a bench and sprinted for the trees bordering the edge of the park. He was wearing the same suit that had shown up in the CCTV cap and was being followed by two guys in black suits, both wielding guns.

 

“Oh, shit...”

 

Hannibal was on his feet, weaving through the traffic, own gun held at the ready as BA’s voice cut in on the radio. “Are they shots?! What’s goin’ on big man?”

 

“Two hostiles running Face down into the park!” Hannibal yelled back, “Get back here BA!”

 

“On my way!”

 

But it was never going to be enough. Hannibal leaped over the barriers across the centre of the road as a white van swung off the street and into the entrance of the park. Face, glancing over his shoulder, saw it coming for him and quickly changed direction, tacking sharply back towards the road, but not sharply enough. The side of the van caught him side on as it swung round in a wide arc propelling him head first into the railings at the side of the sidewalk. He didn’t get back up.

 

Fear coursed through Hannibal’s veins as he realised he wasn’t going to get there in time so he dropped to one knee and started firing at the van and the two black suits who were approaching Face from the side. It still wasn’t enough. The side door of the van slid open and one of the black suits picked Face up like he was a sack of coal and threw him through the doorway as the other pinned Hannibal down with returning fire.

 

In seconds it was all over. The two suits were in the van, the van was back in the traffic and Face was being ripped away from Hannibal at high speed, just when he had been so, so close to getting him back.

 

______________

Face woke up tied to a chair with some foul tasting material shoved in his mouth and yet another monster headache.

 

Years of waking up in unpleasant situations like this had schooled him in the act of playing possum, using that time before the hostiles realised he was back in the land of the living to gather as much information as possible.

 

Keeping his head down and his breathing slow and steady he allowed his eyes to open and slowly track around the room. It looked like he was in an empty apartment. Small and poorly decorated as it had been; it was now clearly derelict and lacking heating, lighting, carpets and furniture. The smell of rodents was almost overpowering.

 

He could hear voices, two men, probably in an adjoining room, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

 

_________________________

 

 “I don’t like it!” BA folded his arms and leaned against the wall glaring at Hannibal, “It’s a crazy plan Hannibal, and I just don’t like it!”

 

Murdock was huddled at the end of the bed, chewing on a strawberry lace and watching his team mates through wide eyes.

 

“BA,” Hannibal was using his most patient, talking to a toddler voice, “We just don’t have the time come up with anything else. Pacitto has taken Face because he’s humiliated him. He wants his pound of flesh and he’ll take it out of Face unless we get an alternative offer in pretty damn quick!”

 

BA rolled his eyes, “I’m not sayin’ none of that’s true bossman, but I am sayin’ this is not gonna work!”

 

“We’ve done variations on this theme time and time again; it always works out just fine.”

 

“But we always use a safety net and now we’ve no time to set up no safety nets or nothing!”

 

“But that’s the point!” Hannibal leaned forward and BA could see the desperation in his eyes, “We are talking hours here BA,” he glanced, quick as a flash, at Murdock before hissing under his breath, “He’ll be dead in hours unless we get him out.”

 

BA sank to the end of the bed and rubbed both hands over his Mohawk and down to the back of his neck, “We could lose you both here, man...”

 

He heard Hannibal’s sigh but it was Murdock who answered him from behind, “You’re wasting your time, big guy. The boss don’t want to live without Face. He’ll risk everything he’s got to save him. Always has.”

 

There was a moment’s stunned silence.

 

“Murdock...” Hannibal’s voice was tight, “I’d do anything to save any one of you boys, I’ve told you that before.”

 

The last of the strawberry lace was quickly dispatched as Murdock swung his feet down onto the carpet, “C’mon Bosco. He’s doing this with or without us, and without us he’s dead meat, so we’d better help out.”

 

____________________________

 

Face thought back to the circumstances of his capture. He’d been emailing Murdock, HM had told him BA and Hannibal were on their way to pick him up and he was so ridiculously relieved that he thought he was going to cry. Murdock also told him that Joey Pacitto’s mob had been responsible for Jessie’s murder and while this news flooded him with relief, it also stoked his guilt and anger. Jessie had been totally innocent in all of this and they’d killed her simply to get back at him for the drugs Face had ditched in the river. It was all his fault, they should have run sooner.

 

But then Face had glanced up out of the window, seen the men in suits crossing the road and had just known they were coming for him. He’d bolted, almost made it to the cover of the trees in the park before they’d hit him with that damn van, and that was all he could remember. He checked through his injuries, trying out each part of his body slowly and carefully so as anyone watching wouldn’t spot the movements. It seemed like his left thigh and hip had taken the brunt of the impact from the van, and his head had also run into something pretty hard too. But apart from that he seemed to be in reasonably good shape and was fairly confident he would be able to run if he needed to.

 

He wondered when Hannibal had arrived at the Cybercafé and what he had thought when Face wasn’t where he had said he was. A cold chill ran through him as he realised that Hannibal would probably just assume that Face had bolted on him. Again. He wouldn’t realise that Pacitto had him, would never know that Face had wanted to make things good with him.

 

And then something else occurred to him, if no one knew he was here, then no one was coming for him. Hannibal always came for him, every scrape he’d ever got himself into, Hannibal had been there to haul him out of it. Guns, ropes, glaciers, tyres, lakes, cellars, cliffs, deserts, sheds, never made any difference, the boss came and the boss saved him. But not this time. Hannibal had always warned him that this day would come, that he needed to take more care of himself, to think before he acted, that one day Hannibal just wouldn’t be there to catch him. He’d never really believed him. Well, it looked like today was the day Hannibal’s prediction came true; if he was going to get out of this mess, he was going to have to make it happen himself.

 

______________________________

 

Luckily they had a stash of money in Chicago. This was one of the ones that Hannibal had set up after Face had disappeared following Tasha Coleman’s death. $100,000 in used notes, a fee for a job Hannibal couldn’t even remember. He knew it wouldn’t be enough to buy his lieutenant’s life, but he hoped it would be enough to buy him some time.

 

With a final dark stare from BA, he slid out of the rented van and walked determinedly up the marble steps and into the foyer of PSG Construction Ltd.

 

______________________________

 

Face may have been able to play possum for an almost unlimited time, if it hadn’t been for the rats and he hated rats, they’d literally plagued him his entire life. His overwhelming memory of the night that his mother left him on the steps of St. Alphonsus RC Church, wasn’t the feeling of abandonment, although that was still pretty sharp, it wasn’t the fear of being alone in the cold and the dark, though that stayed with him even today, it wasn’t even the trauma that was so deep at the time he’d never been able to remember his real name, no, his overriding memory of that night was eventually falling asleep on the stone steps and waking up to find rats running all over him, biting him, tugging at his hair... It was his screams that had eventually woken the nuns.

 

Since that day he’d run into rats with alarming regularity, in the attic bedroom he’d had to sleep in at one of the care homes, in the alleys he lived in when he was on the streets, when they were captured in Iran that time they weren’t even supposed to be there, Afghani caves, Iraqi sewers, container ships, warehouses, sheds, garages, didn’t matter where he went, the bloody rats were always there. It was like he smelled of rat cologne or something, and of course today was no different.

 

He’d been looking at the windows, boarded up but with some of the boards pulled away to let some light in, trying to work out where he was, see if he could see anything that would give him a reference point when he sensed a movement down by his leg. He glanced down just as the world’s biggest rat had reared up onto its hind legs to sniff at the blood on his trousers from where he’d scraped his shin as the van took him out. He couldn’t help it, he didn’t scream or yell or leap onto the chair and lift his skirts up (all very difficult bound and gagged as he was anyway), but he did twitch his leg away, and as one of his minders just happened to be looking over at that point, he may as well have done any of the others.

 

The rat ran off, laughing at him as it went, and as he heard the footsteps approaching from the other room he knew the game was up.

 

A rough hand grabbed a handful of hair and yanked his neck back so hard it cracked and Face closed his eyes against the sudden glare coming through the top of the window.

 

“Okay Louis,” a voice growled out, “Call the boss and tell him Peck is finally awake. He wanted to see this.”

 

Face couldn’t help the way his stomach churned at those words; this didn’t sound good. 

 

__________________________

 

Hannibal sat still and silent in the lobby outside Joey Pacitto’s office, forcing himself to be calm, to stay focussed. This would work. Pacitto knew he was here, he would be too curious not to meet with him and that’s all Hannibal needed. He made eye contact with the secretary seated behind the Reception desk and smiled broadly at her before going back to staring at the door to Pacitto’s office.

 

__________________________

 

It only took twenty minutes for Pacitto to turn up, but it was long enough for Face to work one of his hands out of the binds. The nylon cord was thin, tough and immobile and he’d torn all the skin on his wrists, but he had one hand out, and with a bit more manoeuvring he got the other one out too. He heard footsteps in the passage way and Pacitto’s distinctive voice and knew his time was short. He staggered to his feet, wincing as his weight fell on his battered hip and leg and yanked the rag out of his mouth. The window was his route of choice, but he knew he wouldn’t have enough time to pull off even one of the boards so instead he picked up a broken piece of skirting board and backed up to the door frame, lifting his makeshift club and waiting.

 

As soon as he saw the shadow fill the doorway he made his move, swinging the board into the gut of the first guy and as he doubled over in pain, stepping round to smack it higher up and into the face of grunt number two. His appearance caused mayhem and he took his chance to grab the gun out of number two’s waistband and, unsure of how much ammo he had, contented himself with pointing it straight into Pacitto’s eyes, “Alright dickheads, out of my way or I ventilate your boss’s head.”

 

No one moved.

 

“I’m not kidding here!” His hip was throbbing and he stumbled slightly but kept the gun steady.

 

Pacitto glared at him but nodded curtly at his men who parted to let him pass and Face backed off, dragging the mob boss with him, and keeping his eyes on his henchmen, he could feel the cool air from outside at his back and knew he was so close to making it outside, but then his leg buckled under him and he hit the wall, dropping the gun as a fist caught him in the side of the head.

 

Everything exploded in a hail of fists and boots and before he knew it he was back in the chair with his elbows tied together behind his back and that foul rag in his mouth once more. His head fell to his chest as he struggled to get his breath back, but then a hand was in his hair again dragging him up forcing him to look into Joey Pacitto’s furious face.

 

“You little fucker!” Pacitto spat at him. Blood was trickling from his mouth and Face enjoyed a second’s vicious pleasure at the sight before his head was almost knocked clean off his shoulders by Pacitto’s sharp backhand. He rolled with it as much as he could, but there were still spots swimming in his vision by the time he forced his eyes back to his tormenter; there was no way he was going to let the bastard see how much that had hurt.

 

Pacitto had straightened up and was dabbing the blood from his chin and straightening his tie and his rings and Face could feel hot blood running down his cheek from where the rings had met his skin.

 

“Do you have a strong desire to meet a violent and painful death Mr. Peck?” Face felt that must be a rhetorical question as Pacitto made no move to take the gag from his mouth. “To piss me off the way you have this week, you must have.” He took a step closer in. “First you ditch a whole van load of quality gear into the river, and then you decide to fuck my girl!”

 

Face couldn’t help the frown of confusion that crossed his features, fucked his girl? No way. Face had fucked many highly incongruous people in the past, but to move in on a mobster’s woman, no, Pacitto was right, you’d have to have a death wish for that. There’d only been Jessie in weeks and - oh, shit - the penny finally dropped. Jessie’s crazy boyfriend, the one who dumped people in Lake Michigan. Of course. Why the fuck hadn’t she told him? They’d have run faster, harder, further and then, maybe one of them might have survived.

 

He looked up to find Pacitto watching him closely, “I know who you are, Peck, a member of the legendary A-Team no less. And I’ve heard your reputation for whoring, and for lying. That’s why you are gagged. I’ve no time to listen to your lies, but you still try and con me anyway! You think I would believe you didn’t know who she was?”

 

Face saw the backhand coming this time, but didn’t manage to avoid much of its force. By the time his vision focussed again, Pacitto was leaning against the far wall, ankles crossed and arms folded.

 

“I thought I would leave you for the police to deal with. I know how long you have run from the law; it amused me to think of you rotting away in an army jail for the rest of your days. But you managed to wriggle out of that one, so now we will have to do this the traditional way.” He glanced at his watch, “Strip him down and string him up, men, I have a meeting at three.” He smiled as he saw the bleak look in Face’s eyes, “And get rid of that gag, I want to hear this.”

 

___________________________

 

Hannibal was finding it harder and harder to swallow down the feeling of sickness in his throat. Where the hell was Pacitto? Hannibal had been here almost an hour now, what if he wasn’t going to see him? What if they were too late and Face was already dead? No, Hannibal wasn’t going to go there.

 

He was just coming to the conclusion that they would have to abandon plan A and move onto BA’s plan B when the sound of a helicopter’s rotors filled the lobby. The receptionist looked out of the window behind her and then back at Hannibal, smiling slightly, “That’s Mr. Pacitto now, Mr. Smith. You can go into his office and take a seat.”

 

Picking up his briefcase, Hannibal let himself into the huge corner office and sat at the desk, his whole body turned to the spiral staircase at the side of the room. He didn’t have to wait long, within minutes Joey Pacitto’s bulk was coming down the wrought iron stairs and Hannibal’s heart sank at the smug expression on his face.

 

“John Hannibal Smith, leader of the A-Team, in my office!” Pacitto shook his head dramatically, “Who would have thought it!” He leaned over and the two shook hands, briefly and sharply, “To what do I owe this honour?”

 

Hannibal waited until he had lowered himself into the huge leather seat at the back of the desk before answering. “You have something of mine, Mr. Pacitto,” he kept his voice quiet, calm and authoritative, “and I want him back.”

 

Pacitto raised his eyes as he rested his chin on steepled fingers, “Well, if you know I have him, then you must know what he has done, destroying my goods, fucking my property,” he shook his head again, “I can’t let things like that just go...”

 

Destroying his goods? Face had obviously been busier than Hannibal knew; he hoped that wouldn’t make this harder than it already was. “No, but you are are a business man, and I’m sure you will be up for making a deal.” Hannibal brought the briefcase up from the floor and set it on his knee.

 

There was a moments silence as the two men stared at each other, each weighing the other up.

 

“Okay then, Smith,” Pacitto smiled at him, “How much is he worth to you?”

 

Hannibal didn’t like the tone of that remark but he let it go, “$100,000.”

 

Pacitto scoffed, “I thought you were desperate to get him back?!”

 

Again Hannibal let that go, this wasn’t about the money, it never had been. Hannibal seriously doubted that Pacitto would let Face go for $100,000,000. It was all about pride and keeping up appearances, and there was no amount of money that would persuade Pacitto to take a knock to his dignity. He appeared to think it over though, and Hannibal hoped it was enough money to tempt Pacitto into doing just that tiny bit of extra work.   

 

Eventually he smiled and held out his hand, “Okay Mr. Smith, you have got yourself a deal!”

 

Hannibal leant over to shake, but allowed himself to look surprised and a little flustered, “What, just like that? He’s not already dead is he?”

 

Pacitto seemed genuinely amused, “Oh, no, he’s not dead, not at all! No, I admire your spunk, coming in here with so little money and offering me a deal, takes guts.” He rose and held his hand out for the briefcase, “Now if you will just hand the money over, George here will take you to your man and as soon as you get there, you are both free to go.”

 

Keeping the briefcase clutched tightly to his chest, Hannibal frowned, “No. I’m not handing the money over until the end of the transaction. You can’t blame me for my caution.”

 

“Oh, I don’t!” Pacitto kept his hand extended, “But you don’t have any real choice here,” he nodded at George and Hannibal turned to find himself looking straight into a gun barrel. George reached into Hannibal’s holster and removed his gun before frisking him down and taking his phone, keys, loose change and knife.

 

“You double crossing me?” Hannibal snarled.

 

“Not at all!” Pacitto managed to look aggrieved, “We shook on a deal and I am a man of my word!” He took the briefcase from Hannibal’s hands and flicked it open. “Now I have the payment, as I promised, George will take you to your man, and you are both free to go. Everyone a winner!” His smile was decidedly disturbing, but Hannibal had no choice but to let the money go and take an uncertain step towards George as the burly man turned for the door.

 

“Nice doing business with you Mr. Smith! And George!” Pacitto called as he started unloading the money from the briefcase, “You should take the chopper, you will be pushed for time otherwise.”

 

George nodded and turned towards the spiral staircase, but the look of anticipation that crossed his face was enough to chill Hannibal’s blood.

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