Cabin Fever

Part 1: Snake on a Plane

One

"I hate the cold." Face muttered, hugging himself, his body made bulky by a Parka. "New rule, okay. No more cases that involve travelling to Alaska."

"Try doing some work," Hannibal said. "That'll warm you up."

"Yeah, grab some crates, man," BA growled.

Face sighed and went to help BA and Hannibal unload the crates from the truck onto the DC3.

"Here, BA, let me give you a hand with that one..."

"No way, you stay away from me. All of you. None of you is getting close enough to stick me with no needles."

"Paranoid." Hannibal muttered.

"Ain't paranoid when you really is out to get me. I'll load these crates, then I'm taking the truck and going to catch a train."

"You want to take a train all the way from Barrow to LA?" Hannibal shook his head. "And you say Murdock is nuts. Help me with this one, Face."

Face and Hannibal lifted a long, almost coffin-like crate onto the plane. It bumped against the doorframe as they manoeuvred it in.

"Careful, Hannibal!" Face said. "This is the Rodin. You know what it's worth?"

"Well if it's worth its weight in gold, then a lot." Hannibal puffed a bit as they put the heavy crate down. "Who the heck wants a naked guy made of bronze in their house anyway?"

He glanced into the now empty truck. Face and BA swung the last box aboard, a small trunk Hannibal knew held their rifles. "Okay, that's everything? Let's get them strapped down."

"Hey, guys." Murdock stuck his head in the door. He also wore a heavy Parka and had temporarily replaced his baseball cap with a furry hat with long earflaps. He currently had the flaps tied together on top of the hat. "Bad news. At least an hour before we get our fuel."

"Great." Face muttered. "If those MPs show up..."

"Ah, they're nowhere near," Hannibal said. "Probably still cuffing and stuffing Herr Krause." He lit a cigar and beamed down at the crates of art works they had just loaded into the plane. Not only the pictures the client had employed them to retrieve, but at least a dozen other pieces of art, more paintings and a couple of sculptures, including the Rodin. Krause had apparently viewed the Second World War as a way to build his art collection without paying for any of it. Well now the stolen art would go back to the families it belonged to, courtesy of the A-Team.

"I thought ex-Nazis were supposed to hide out in Brazil or Argentina." Face grumbled, hugging himself again. "You know, someplace warm?"

"Maybe he likes to ski." Hannibal said. "Come on, let's go to the terminal and get some food while we wait for the fuel truck. Lock up the plane, Captain."

"I think I'll get away for my train." BA said.

"Aw, come eat with us, BA." Murdock pleaded. "We missed Thanksgiving dinner. At least come get a turkey sandwich with the team."

"I'm not eating no food around you guys." BA scowled at them fiercely.

"Sergeant, you haven't eaten since early this morning." Hannibal put a stern and commanding tone into his voice. "You're eating with us before you leave. That's an order."

"Okay." BA scowled around at them. "But if you guys try anything you're all dead meat." He stomped off. The others followed. Hannibal leaned close to Murdock.

"Captain?"

Murdock took the glove off his right hand, reached up to his furry hat and slid a hand into the little pocket made by a tied up earflap. He pulled out a small phial of clear liquid and dropped it into Hannibal's hand.

Hannibal grinned. "Thanks, Murdock."

~~~~

An hour and a half later Murdock signed the fuel truck driver's requisition forms.

"And you'll charge that to my credit card?"

"Yes sir, Mister..." the driver glanced at the form, "Decker." He glanced over nervously to where Face and Hannibal were heaving the semi conscious BA on board the plane. "Erm, is your passenger okay?"

"Told him to stay out of the bar." Murdock shook his head, sounding exasperated. "Thanks. Happy Thanksgiving, friend."

Once on board he went straight to the cockpit. Hannibal and Face were checking that the crates were secure for the flight. As he started his final pre-flight check, Murdock heard Face's alarmed voice.

"Hannibal, he's coming around!"

Murdock ticked items off his checklist.

"Radio master. Check."

"Hannibal! Give him the shot!"

"Boost pumps. Check."

"What the heck? I'm on the plane!"

"Hydraulic pressure. Check."

"Hold him down, Face!"

"Directional gyro. Check."

"Hold him? What are you kidding?"

"Navigation lights. Check."

BA gave a howl of protest. Then there was a huge crash followed by silence.

"BA unconscious. Check. Altimeter. Check."

~~~~

The driver parked his fuel truck in front of a hanger and jumped out. Time for some lunch. He heard the DC3 taking off, turned to watch it climb into the bright blue sky, and then he walked into the hanger.

The first person he met inside was naked and made of bronze. He jumped back, startled as he almost bumped into the life-sized statue right inside the hanger door then stood and stared at it baffled.

"What the hell?"

~~~~

Face carefully placed a small pillow behind BA's head. Then he double-checked the handcuffs securing BA to the seat, one set on each wrist.

"He's going to kill us when we set him loose."

"Yeah, like all the other times he's killed us, huh?" Hannibal did not look remotely worried. "Any more of those pillows?" Face handed him one. "Right, I'm getting some sleep, so try to keep it down to a dull roar okay?"

"Fine. I'll go talk to Murdock." Face went to the cockpit. Hannibal snuggled into his coat and rested his head on the pillow. The flight home would take hours. Might as well get some shut-eye. The job was done and done well, as usual. Time to relax. The drone of the engines faded from his consciousness as he drifted into sleep.

~~~~

He waited.

He waited until the only sound was the engines. Only then did he start to move. The lid of the crate was no longer nailed down. Once inside he had secured it with tape. Just enough to stop it moving around when the plane took off.

With a pocket-knife he slit each piece of tape, slowly, as quietly as possible. He paused after cutting each piece to make sure there was no new noise or movement outside in the cabin. At last, the lid of the crate was free. He put away his knife and pushed against the lid with hands and knees, lifting it just enough to push it to the side. It touched an obstruction, another crate, so he pushed it down instead, sliding it off towards his feet. In a second that gave him enough room to sit up. He did so, like a movie vampire sitting up in its coffin. His weapon was not fangs, but rather a semi-automatic pistol. He gripped it tightly.

He climbed out of the long crate that had held the bronze statue, carefully making sure his boots didn't scrape on anything.

The crates were at the back of the cabin area. More than half of the space was set up for cargo; the rest had seats for passengers, two rows of them, the forward ones turned to face the ones behind. Very sociable. It was cold and he was glad of his heavy coat. Silently he moved to the passenger area, making sure he wasn't visible through the open door to the cockpit.

Smith and Baracus were sitting in passenger seats, both fast asleep. Baracus was handcuffed to the chair. It seemed the stories about him being afraid to fly weren't exaggerated. Peck was nowhere in sight. Must be in the cockpit. And who else might be in the cockpit? He smirked. Looked like he was batting four for four.

He slid a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and held them by one bracelet; let the other dangle loose, so the two bracelets couldn't clink together. Slowly, silently he approached Smith.

~~~~

"Okay, Murdock, are you a woman?"

"Nope. Eighteen questions left, Face."

"Were you born in the twentieth century?"

"Nope. Seventeen to go."

"This better be a real person, Murdock, not... not... Queen Selena of the Mole People."

"I said it's not a woman." Murdock grinned. "And Queen Selena was real. She used to visit me every night back in July '76." He sighed. "What a summer that -"

"Face!" Hannibal's yell made them both jump in their seats. Face, wide eyed, leapt to his feet. There was panic in Hannibal's voice. Face's first thought was for BA. Did BA have some kind of adverse reaction to the knock out juice? Face had always dreaded that would happen one day. He ran into the cabin.

"What is -?"

"Look out, Face!" Hannibal shouted, squirming and struggling as if he couldn't get out of his chair.

His warning was too late. As Face came through the door into the cabin, someone slammed into him from the left, knocking him to the floor on his stomach, and then landing heavily on top of him.

"Get off me, BA!" Face yelled. How the hell had BA got loose? Face struggled, panting for breath, winded by the fall. Why was Hannibal not coming to help?

The weight lifted off Face for a second and a knee in his side shoved him forcibly against a seat. Then he groaned as the same knee stuck in his back and pinned him to the floor again. A strong hand grabbed his right wrist. There was... there was something missing. No clanking. BA's gold clattered and clanked when he moved around fast. Face looked up and...

And BA was sitting right there in his seat, still blissfully dead to the world. Face gaped. Who the hell was...?

He tried to twist around, but the knee in his back kept him flat. He felt the all too familiar bite of cold steel on his wrist, his arm was pulled behind him and he heard the clatter as the other bracelet of the cuffs closed around a seat support. Then that strong hand was roughly pulling out the pistol Face carried in a shoulder holster, leaving him unarmed. At last, the weight lifted from Face's back and he could turn on his side. His attacker stood up, pointing a pistol and a smug grin at him.

For perhaps the first time in his life, Face was speechless.

"Face?" Murdock's voice sounded from the cockpit. "Hannibal? What's going on?" The smug grin got wider and Face and Hannibal both groaned.

"Four for four."

~~~~

Okay, from now on, Murdock decided, only planes with autopilot fitted. Something bad was going on back there and he couldn't do a thing about it. A movement behind him made him turn.

"Face?"

"Not quite, Captain Murdock."

Murdock stared in horror, for a moment as speechless as Face, and then found his voice again.

"Decker?"

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