Nowhere Man - Face/Hannibal - Part 3

[indigo_angels]

September

 

Hannibal stood with his hands in his pockets as he stared at the calendar hanging in front of him. One year. A whole three hundred and sixty five days since Face had walked out on them. He shook his head and turned away. Never in those early days when they were tearing around the airport, wracking their brains for somewhere Face might go, someone he would turn to, did Hannibal really think a year would pass and they would be no further on. Looking at the physical proof on the calendar made him sick.

 

He walked to the window and looked out. It was very late, the city was in darkness but Hannibal could still make out the faint outline of the play park across the street. The view from his new place was nowhere near as good as the one from the apartment that Face had found for him, he obviously just didn’t have the kid’s touch, but he’d needed to move on and beggars couldn’t be choosers.

 

He sighed and pressed his head against the cool glass of the window, but if Face was to come back now or send something, some kind of contact, how on earth would he even find them?

 

Despair crashed over him like a wave.

 

______________________________

 

December

 

The cold of the metal hip flask bit into his fingers but he ignored it as he held it up to his mouth and took a long swig, feeling the heat of the liquor as it burned down his throat. Hannibal was appalled at himself, couldn’t believe how he had sunk this low, allowed himself to behave in such a pathetic manner. What the hell was he doing, going back to New York at Christmas again?

 

He squinted across the thick, black water to where the Statue of Liberty stood immobile, ignoring the flurries of snow that whipped around her in the night. He knew really, of course, why he was here, and this time it had nothing to do with Sosa, well not directly at any rate.

 

Since that year anniversary had passed, Hannibal had been consumed by a mounting feeling of hopelessness. They were never going to find Face, he would never come back to them, he would die, all alone somewhere, still believing that Hannibal hated him, had lied to him, and Hannibal would never get the chance to tell him the truth. The whole truth this time.

 

And he just couldn’t live with that level of failure.  

 

The package for Murdock had been a red herring. They were all still convinced it had come from Face, but it certainly hadn’t been a clue, or even the start of a gradual return. No, it had been a birthday present for his best friend, a message to tell Murdock he was still thinking of him; nothing more and nothing less, and of course Hannibal and BA’s birthdays had passed unmarked.

 

Every link he’d had with Face had gone. He was even finding it hard to keep his memories and needed something more, something tangible,  so he’d come back to New York. He shook his head in disgust and took another swig of the whiskey, and that was the really pathetic part, because what link was there here? That this time last year someone thinks they might have seen the A-Team here and so twelve months later on, Face may be back again? Pathetic... Face isn’t here this year any more than he was last year and Hannibal is turning into a sad and lonely old man, drinking himself into a stupor all alone in a park in New York on Christmas Eve. How much lower can he stoop?

 

He wanted to throw the hip flask into the river, but knew he would miss its warmth and so took another swig and hated himself for his weakness almost as much as he hated himself for what he said to Face sixteen months ago.

 

He folded his arms on the railings in front of him and let his head drop to rest on them, promising himself that he really wasn’t going to cry here. A boat motored past full of party goers and Hannibal heard the strains of ‘Baby Please Come Home’ drifting across the water towards him and that was almost the last nail in his emotional coffin when he heard a voice behind him, “Boss...?”

 

He whirled round on the spot, his alcohol soaked mind full of Christmas movies where everything just turns out okay on Christmas Eve and found himself looking straight at Murdock and BA.

 

It took just a minute to process that they were here, in New York, now, when he knew he left them back west, and then he wondered why that was any less likely than finding Face behind him, before he acknowledged that they both looked frozen to the bone and were obviously still waiting for some kind of answer from him, so he nodded at them and answered, “You look cold,” before he turned back to the now empty black river.

 

A couple of seconds passed before he felt the weight of an arm across his shoulders and a voice at his ear, “C’mon boss, you don’t have to do this. You know he wouldn’t want you to...”

 

Wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t he want Hannibal to drown in the pit of despair for the way he treated him? But he knew Murdock was right, Face might still be angry with him, but he won’t be blaming him, not at all. When things go wrong with Face, there’s only ever one person he wants to hate, one person he wants to lash out at and doubt and blame. Himself. It’s knowing that, that fuels Hannibal’s despair.

 

He was numb to the bone, and not just from the cold, but he rose from the railings and let his men lead him away.

 

_______________________________

 

One week later...

 

Hannibal had been off the whiskey for a week and he felt better for it. More clarity, more energy, but still no closer to finding Face. He had also acknowledged to himself  that maybe it was time to move on, not just practically, after all he had already moved out of his apartment, but emotionally as well. If they were never going to find Face, then he couldn’t just put his life on hold forever. If this was the way the kid wanted it, then... well, he may not be that keen himself, but it’s not like he actually had a choice.

 

New Year’s Eve. The time for making resolutions, and Hannibal resolved to get on with his life.

 

It’s still not quite midnight, however, when the brand new resolution got smashed into tiny pieces. Murdock and BA burst through the door, Murdock’s eyes wild and unfocussed and start talking loudly and at the same time.

 

Hannibal held up his hands, “Guys, guys, wait... one at a time, come on here...”

 

He watched as his boys traded a quick glance before Murdock started the explanation again, “Next week, you know boss, you know what that is?”

 

Hannibal frowned and shook his head, “January?” Was that a trick question?

 

“Yes!” Murdock looked thrilled, “January 4th!”

 

Hannibal’s frown deepened and he turned to BA who shook his head at Murdock’s attempt at an explanation before having a go himself, “Remember that old priest boss? The one Face actually liked?”

 

Hannibal nodded, of course he did. Father David Magill, later to become Monsignor, was the closest thing to a real father Face had ever had. The kid had kept in touch with him all the way through, right until the end. “But that’s no good BA, I’ve already thought of that, the old guy died remember, a few of years ago?” It hurts him to remember how floored Face had been.

 

Murdock nodded, his eyes strangely alight for a discussion on death... “Yeah, we know!” he was practically bubbling out of his skin, “January the 4th, four years ago, like you said!”

 

Hannibal’s eyes widened slightly. This was a link, he wasn’t sure how he could use it yet, but this was definitely the best, the only link they had had in over a year. He got up and started pacing, willing his mind into action, “So, how can we use this, how will this help...?” he was almost talking to himself.

 

“Well, I thought we could just stake out the cemetery, you know?” Murdock reached out and snagged an orange from the fruit bowl, “And then when Facey turns up, we can nab him, make him listen to some sense for once.” He took a bite right through the skin.

 

Hannibal stopped in his tracks and stared at his captain, “You think he’ll go to the cemetery?”

 

Murdock nodded, “Always does. I usually go with him, but not last year...” he shrugged and pulled a face at his orange, “Think your apples are off here, colonel.”

 

Hannibal stared in silence while BA snatched the orange off him with a muttered, “Not an apple, fool!” and started to peel it for him. Face went every year to Father David’s grave? He’d gone last year? They could have done this last year? He wants to shout something like that at Murdock, but the sight of his captain beaming as BA passes him the peeled orange stops him. Well at least Murdock has come up with the goods now, at least he knew this fact about Face that Hannibal didn’t. And come to think of it, why not? Why hadn’t Face told him he made this pilgrimage every year? Maybe they weren’t as close as he liked to think they were...

 

He shook his head and focussed. He had a plan to make.

 

January 4^th

It had taken a lot of wrangling to get his hands on a cemetery maintenance van, but they needed to blend right into the back ground here, Face would be on his guard when he came, they needed to make sure they were right out of sight. It was going to be a long day, three of them camped out in this tiny van, but if Face showed up, it sure as hell would be worth it.

 

The cemetery was busy. Families and couples arrived all day, most carrying festive looking arrangements to leave on their loved ones graves. Hannibal felt uncomfortable, spying on these people in their grief, but they needed to have a good view of Father David’s plot and this was the only way to do it. His stomach growled as he heard a distant church clock strike twelve and BA pushed a sandwich his way without opening his eyes from where he reclined in the back of the van. Hannibal took it without comment and bit into it, his eyes firmly fixed on the neat granite grave stone one hundred meters to his left.

 

Murdock was restless as he took his turn up in the front on watch. Hannibal, propped up against the closed doors wondered for about the millionth time, the effect that all this business with Face would have on his fragile mental health. He knew, better than anyone else alive, that Murdock faked his symptoms a lot of the time, but a lot certainly did not mean all and he knew the man was fragile. Having said that, he seemed to be coping better now than he had been eight months ago. Whatever Face had been thinking of when he sent that RC chopper to Murdock back in May, it had certainly done the trick.

 

Hannibal tried not to let the diminishing afternoon light get him down too much just yet. There were still two hours before the cemetery closed, and another nine until midnight and he knew Face well enough to understand that the kid had never paid much attention to official opening hours. He glanced up at BA, staring intently through the windshield, and then Murdock who was hunched over his DS in rapt concentration.

 

“Hey, HM?”

 

Murdock didn’t look up, “Hmm-mm?”

 

“When you came here with Face, what time did you come down?”

 

“In the morning usually, he liked it quiet you know...”

 

Hannibal met BA’s stare, “Means nothing, man,”

 

“I know BA, I know.”

 

BA turned back to the windshield and stiffened, “Boss...”

 

Hannibal was alongside him in an instant, Murdock crowding in behind them, “Is it him? Is it Facey? Can you see him big guy?”

 

“Murdock!” Hannibal hissed, eyes narrowing in the gloom.

 

A small van had pulled up, right in front of Father David’s grave, and as they watched, the driver’s door opened and a lone figure climbed. Hannibal was holding his breath watching as the figure reached into the back of the van and took out a white circular flower arrangement.

 

“That’s him!” Murdock breathed, “He always gets flowers like that!”

 

BA’s hand shot out to grab the door handle but Hannibal stopped him, “Hang on, hang on... look...”

 

Hannibal had seen what the others in their excitement, hadn’t and his heart had fallen into his boots in disappointment.

 

It was BA that voiced what Hannibal had noticed, “Oh man, that guy’s black...” 

 

Hannibal dragged himself into the back of the van once more and slumped down, trying to hold back the waves of frustration.

 

“Maybe it is Face...” Murdock’s voice suddenly sounded so forlorn, “You know he can do disguises almost as good as you boss,”

 

But Hannibal can’t even answer, can’t even tell BA not to bother when he hears the van door being opened and the big guy getting out. Looks like his New Year’s resolution hasn’t changed his life in the slightest, and it’s still just the first week on January...

 

Maybe only five minutes pass before BA is back, slamming the door behind him with maybe a little too much force.

 

“Face sent those flowers man,” he barked turning to look at Hannibal, “I jus’ know he did, they’re jus’ like the ones Murdock says he always gets. Flower man won’t tell me where he is though, even though I asked him real nice, something about customer confidentiality... Load of crap if you ask me...”

 

But Hannibal was already pushing himself up, that light in his eyes once more, “That’s right BA! Of course they won’t tell us, but who says we can’t go and take a look for ourselves? You get the name of that florist?”

 

“Damn right I did!”

 

“Well, let’s go!”

 

_______________________________

 

They switched vans, called into a restaurant for a quick bite to eat and then parked across the way from the Heavenly Boughs flower shop to wait for everyone to go home.

 

At ten past ten precisely, Hannibal deemed it quiet enough for Murdock to do a bit of breaking and entering and he slipped out of the back of the van and across the street in the blink of an eye. Hannibal and BA hadn’t even had time to get worried before Murdock was back, although Hannibal noted he looked less than ecstatic. “Success?” he prompted the second the vans doors were shut and BA had pulled out into the traffic.

 

Murdock shrugged, “Don’t know, colonel. I found the record okay, but there wasn’t a sender’s address at all. Apparently it was a transfer order from another branch, customer paid in cash.”

 

“Transfer order?”

 

“Yeah. The order was made at another branch, but it’s too far away for delivery so they called Heavenly Boughs and transferred the job to them. Happens all the time.”

 

Hannibal absorbed this new information. “So do we at least know where the order originated from?”

 

Murdock looked back at the scrap of paper in his hand, “Columbia Falls, Montana.”

 

There was a moment’s stunned silence, “Montana! Man, it’s cold up there in the winter! What the hell’s he doing up there?”

 

Hannibal studied the scrap of paper intently, “There’s nothing to say he really is up there, BA, it may just be a paper trail...”

 

BA pulled over to the side of the road and turned round in his seat, “But we are still gonna go, yeah?”

 

Hannibal felt two pairs of eyes on him and flicked his phone onto the internet, “Well, I’m certainly going to give it a go, reckon it’ll be about a five hour flight from here.”

 

“We could drive it in a day...” BA countered.

 

A heavy silence hung over the van as Hannibal stopped his surfing and looked up into BA’s face. “Look, BA, I know you want to do this, I know how this has been eating you up, but time is the key here. He might not even be there, he might just be passing through, but we need to get there and we need to get there fast. We need to fly...”

 

BA held his stare for another beat, then nodded once, “You fly and I’ll drive. Be there day after tomorrow.”

 

Hannibal leaned over and bumped his fist against BA’s bicep before turning to Murdock, “What about you HM?”

 

Murdock flicked his eyes over to Hannibal and then back to BA; Hannibal could see the conflict in his face. He turned to Hannibal once more, a decision obviously made, “I’ll ride with Bosco I think colonel.”

 

Hannibal nodded, “Well let’s go get sorted, then.”

 

_________________________________

 

It was -11°c when Hannibal arrived in Columbia Falls, quite a difference to the balmy 19°c he’d left in Los Angeles. He went straight to the airport shop and bought a brand new ski jacket and trousers, a hat that covered as much of his face as possible and some gloves. The last thing he wanted was for Face to recognise him in the street and disappear before they even had chance to speak. Assuming Face was even here of course. Then he went to his motel and checked in, asked the girl at the desk for a list of all the flower shops in town and headed out.

 

Photos of his team were hard to come by, it wasn’t like they went out of their way to have their images recorded or anything, but Hannibal had eventually found a picture of Face still on one of their digital cameras. It was a candid shot, Murdock must have taken it as Face had just vaulted over the balcony railing of Hannibal’s old apartment and landed in the gardens. Maybe he had tried to capture the stunt in mid air, but the camera was obviously a little slow as Face had just straightened up, and was looking straight down the lens, laughter in his eyes and the sun in his hair. Seeing it for the first time had taken Hannibal’s breath away. Who was he trying to kid here, telling himself he could move on with his life? In reality, it felt like he just missed Face more and more with every passing day. If this lead went cold on him here, he had no idea what he would do.

 

Now, armed with his story and his photo he walked confidently into the first flower shop on the list and smiled at the woman behind the counter. She was in her late fifties maybe, not really Face’s type, but Hannibal knew if he’d been in the shop, this woman would remember him. They always did.

 

He smiled warmly at her and she returned the gesture as he made his way over to the counter, “Hey, good to meet you,” he saw the woman eyeing him up and down, obviously checking him out and liking what she saw. Good, that had to help him.

 

“And you,” she returned, blushing a bit.

 

Hannibal leant on the counter and fixed her with his most earnest expression, “I’m really sorry to bother you. I’m supposed to be meeting a friend here in town, but someone has stolen my mobile and I don’t have his cell number and I’ve no idea where he is staying so I’m asking around. I don’t suppose you recognise him do you?” Hannibal pulled the photo out of his pocket and slid it across the counter, watching her expression carefully as he did so.

 

“Oh, yes!” Hannibal’s stomach flipped, “Yes, I know him, he was actually just in here the other day, ordering some flowers! It’s Rob, yes? Rob Taylor. I’m afraid I don’t know where he lives but he’s working up at the snow mobile place.”

 

Relief settled over Hannibal like a blanket and he had to restrain himself from just grabbing the photo and running all the way to the snow mobile place, wherever it may be.

 

“Excellent, that’s great news.” Rob Taylor was a new alias as far as Hannibal was aware, “You sure it’s this guy, yeah?”

 

“Oh, yes,” the woman replied, “you never forget a face like that!”

 

___________________________

 

A quick Google search on his phone told him that the only snow mobile place was about ten miles out of town and called, rather contritely, Snow Business. He hired a car and set off, driving past the place once before convincing himself he could drive into the car park without drawing too much attention to himself and so turned back. There was only an hour of daylight left, so Hannibal parked up in the corner of the parking lot and, took the photography equipment he’d brought with him as cover out of the boot and set up his camera and tripod, looking out towards the sunset and the mountains.  

 

He didn’t have long to wait. After twenty minutes of pretending to be absorbed in his hobby, Hannibal heard the familiar whine of snow mobiles in the distance. A few minutes later and he could see them, snaking their way back towards the centre. Hannibal turned his lens on the small party and tried to zoom in, but it was no use; all the participants were bundled up against the cold in hats and goggles. Elvis could have been driving one and Hannibal would never have known. He turned his back again and let his ears try to do what his eyes couldn’t.

 

From what he could hear, the group were holiday makers who had been out on a one day trek and had thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Hannibal listened hard, but could only hear moans about sore behinds and cold feet, enthusing about the scenery, and how mad Mike would be that he’d missed it. Dinner plans were discussed and tentative thoughts on booking another trek were voiced. And then Hannibal heard what he’d been listening out for, “Hey, Rob, if we book again next week, will we definitely get you as our guide again?”

 

Hannibal froze.

 

“Depends. You’ll have to talk to Shelley, she makes all the bookings.”

 

And then he melted, and all the stress and torment of the last sixteen months just seemed to slip away as Hannibal’s world righted itself again. He’d know that voice anywhere. He’d found him.

 

Footsteps crunched away from him and Hannibal heard the door of the office open and close as he packed up all his gear again as darkness fell all around him. Then he slid into the driver’s seat of his car and settled down to wait.

Part Four