A dark red car pulled up outside the team's warehouse in the early dawn light. A moment later, Tawnia stepped out of the car, a briefcase in one hand and the other balancing a cardboard tray of coffee cups on top of a pastry box. She looked around, and stepped towards the warehouse.

"Morning, Tawnia."

Her jump of fright would have made her drop the cups, but Hannibal stepped out of the shadows and took the tray and the box.

"Of course, if Colonel Decker confronted you right now, you'd tell him that you can drink four coffees and eat a whole box of Danish yourself and you're not meeting the A-Team."

Tawnia winced. "I didn't think. I just wanted to bring you guys breakfast."

Hannibal smiled at her chagrined look. Her heart was in the right place at least. "Thanks, kid. Appreciate it."

They went inside the warehouse to find BA tuning up the van, in anticipation of the mission ahead. Murdock paced about, silent and well away from BA. Going by the yells Hannibal had heard earlier he'd been closer to BA and talking a lot more, but BA had soon expressed his feelings about that. Both of them at once came over to Tawnia.

"Have you guys had any sleep at all?" Tawnia asked, looking at them concerned.

"Caught a few zees earlier," Murdock said. A lie Hannibal knew, just trying to reassure her. He handed around the cups, one of them cold milk for BA, and then offered around the box of still warm pastries.

"What have you managed to find out?" Hannibal asked Tawnia, leading her to a chair beside BA's workbench. For a second, she paused looking at the seat, but then she sat and drew the briefcase onto her lap. The team crowded around her.

She'd been up all night too, Hannibal could see, make-up barely covering the dark circles under her eyes. She took a big drink of coffee, before she began.

"Curly and Logan Watkins are in a high security prison in Oregon. Both have already spent time in solitary and had time added to their sentences for fighting." She looked up at Hannibal. "You're not going to do what they've demanded, are you? I mean that would be..."

"No," Hannibal said. "Don't worry; the only prisoner we're planning on breaking out is Face. Now, what did you find out about the rest of the family?"

"Well, the whole family left Barlow Creek after you guys got the brothers arrested. It all got pretty ugly, apparently. Curly and Logan are both married, but their wives are divorcing them. The wives don't have any contact with the rest of the family any more."

"You talked to them?"

Tawnia nodded. "They weren't very happy that I called in the middle of the night but they were both pretty happy to tell me all about how much they hated their husbands and that entire family. They only managed to leave when the men were in jail, before the trial."

Hannibal's jaw clenched. How much choice had those women even had about marrying the brothers? The Watkins had ruled Barlow Creek and taken whatever they wanted.

"During the trial, the contact address for the brothers' family was at a local Holiday Inn, but they left months ago. Which the employees there are very happy about, according to the night manager I spoke to." Tawnia looked up at Hannibal, with a half-smile. "I told him I was a bill collector and he was really sorry he couldn't help me track them down."

"Those folks win hearts wherever they go, don't they?" Murdock muttered into his coffee cup.

"You think they have Face at their new home?" Tawnia asked.

"That's the only lead we have," Hannibal said. "We have to start somewhere."

"And these jerks aren't that imaginative." Murdock grimaced. "They'll have Face locked in their cellar. I'd lay down money on that."

"Did you get a new address for 'em?" BA asked, eating his third pastry. Murdock was still working on his first, Hannibal noted, too distracted and worried to eat. He picked the box off the workbench and held it out to Murdock with a meaningful look. Murdock took another pastry, one in each hand now.

"I eventually talked directly to the prison," Tawnia said, "to see if they had an address for next of kin for Curly and Logan, and I got this." She held up a piece of paper, with an address on it. "It's a 'care of' address at a post office in a small town, northwest of Sacramento."

"Right here in California?" Hannibal said, surprised. That meant they'd probably arrived back home by now.

"Yes. Quite near the border with Nevada."

"Well, God forbid they took Face across the state line and made it a federal case," Murdock muttered bitterly. Hannibal tasted bitterness too, bitter at the idea that one of his men could be kidnapped and that they were his only chance of rescue. Bringing in the law would get the Watkins, but Face too. Apart from their idiotic demand, the plan was almost a good one. He took the piece of paper from Tawnia.

"You did well, kid."

"It's not an actual address for them."

"Yeah, they're smart enough for that. But they won't be far from here. We'll find them. Thanks for your work. We'll call if we need anything else." He folded the paper and put it in a pocket.

Tawnia stood up. "Wait, I want to come with you!"

"No," Hannibal said at once, anticipating her argument.

"Do you know how many dates I had to promise to go on to get that information? I need to get out of town for a few days! Guys..." She looked at Murdock and BA, appealing for their support, but they both shook their heads.

"Appreciate what you done," BA said, "but it's too dangerous for you."

"Hannibal, please. Don't you think I'm worried about Face too?"

"I'm sure you are," Hannibal said. "But --"

"What if you need someone who can be seen in public without getting arrested? Or even walk right into the sheriff's office?"

"Murdock can do that," Hannibal said, still stern. He signalled Murdock and BA and they moved towards the van. "Why would we have to go to the sheriff's office anyway?" He opened his passenger side door.

"Well if these Watkins are as bad as you say, they're bound to have come to the attention of the law, aren't they? Even for minor things."

Hannibal stopped. He looked at Murdock in the back of the van. Murdock shrugged.

"She has a point there, Colonel."

"And you can also walk into the sheriff's office without getting arrested."

"Um, well, technically I am an escaped mental patient," Murdock said.

"And we have a boxful of fake IDs." Hannibal turned back to Tawnia. "That's a good idea, thanks, but Murdock can handle it."

"The Watkins know Murdock," Tawnia pointed out. "What if you need someone who's not wanted, isn't an escaped mental patient, and isn't known to the family?"

"For what?"

"I don't know! But there could be something."

"We could use her car," BA said, suddenly. "Vette's too conspicuous."

Tawnia at once held up her car keys, dropped them down the front of her blouse and stood with her hands on her hips. "Now if you want my car, you have to take me too."

Hannibal half smiled then and shook his head. Maybe she could be useful. At the very least, she could get them information quickly with her newspaper contacts.

"Okay, kid, you talked me into it. Though I'm not sure how you're going to drive with your car keys stuck in your bra."

Tawnia looked down at her chest, and started fishing the keys out.

"I'll ride with her," Murdock said, jumping out. He watched her extracting the keys and added, "After all, I don't get this quality of entertainment in the van."

>o<

Face had been shown to his accommodation.

He'd been confused when the three brothers dragged him downstairs, expecting a basement or cellar. But this room didn't seem to be underground. It had a decent sized window, for one thing, though that was barred and shuttered. Had he been upstairs before? He wondered. But they hadn't taken him up any stairs when they took him from the van into the house.

Deke and CW pinned him on a cot, and Harold first untied him and then closed the bracelet of a manacle onto his left wrist. The other end of the eighteen-inch chain... Face waited with bated breath to see where that was going. The cot, he thought, the cot.

"Not the cot, you idiot," Deke snapped at Harold. "The pipe, the goddamn pipe."

The goddamn pipe. Face glared at the sturdy looking goddamn pipe that ran up the wall beside the cot. Harold closed the other bracelet of the manacles around it. Face sighed. Oh well, at least he could use his hands, the right one freely, the left within limits. He stopped struggling as the brothers stepped away from him, out of his reach.

"Let's get out of here," Harold said. "I gotta get some sleep."

"Forget it," Deke said. "You're taking the first guard duty."

Harold protested at length, but Face approved that plan. Harold wouldn't manage to stay awake for guard detail even when he wasn't coming off a sleepless night.

"Any chance of breakfast?" Face said, interrupting their arguing. "If I starve to death, you might find it hard to keep the rest of the team interested in your whole stupid jailbreak scheme."

"Shut up," CW said, scowling. He kicked the cot.

"Oh, don't tell me. You came up with the plan? I thought Harold for sure."

"Ma thought of it," Harold said. "It's a good plan."

It's a desperate, stupid, insane plan, Face thought, as the brothers left. Of course, desperate, stupid, insane plans were a subject he was all too familiar with. Hannibal wouldn't try to pull off the jailbreak would he? That would just be nuts, reckless, and... Okay, this was Hannibal, so maybe he would try. But not even Hannibal could pull that off. If he tried, the team would be captured for sure, and then the Watkins had a rather inconvenient houseguest they had to get rid of.

Well, Face liked to think he was always a polite guest, who never outstayed his welcome. Time to think about getting out of here. He shuffled around on the cot and lifted the thin, bare mattress, to expose the metal underneath. No sweat, he'd be able to prise a piece loose. It would probably take hours, but what else did he have to do? The Watkins had neglected to provide him with any other entertainment after all. The cot was the only thing in the room. Well aside from a bucket underneath it, which he didn't want to dwell on too much yet. He could at least count himself lucky they'd left the light on, he supposed.

He started to work on a likely looking piece of metal. About the right thickness to use as a crude lock pick. Pulling at it to bend it up and out of place didn't work. Either it was stronger than it looked, or he was weaker than he'd feared. Of course he still hadn't had any water or food, and his drugged and concussed sleep last night didn't count as refreshing.

In fact within a few minutes his head started nodding, and he started thinking sleep might be the best idea now. Work on the cot later, need sleep. Could he sleep while dizzy with hunger and thirst though?

The sound of the door opening made him jump. He dropped the folded up bit of mattress, and lay down, pretending to be asleep. He heard Harold's voice.

"Be careful. Yell for me if he tries anything."

A footstep near the cot and Face expected that foot to give the cot a good kicking at any moment. But instead he heard a voice.

"Hello?"

He opened his eyes at once. A woman's voice, but not Ma, a new voice. A young woman stood by the cot, holding a tray. Face sat up quickly. A girl? He sensed her nervousness and instinctively gave her the 'I'm friendly' smile.

"Ma told me to bring you some food."

She looked around, and seeing nowhere else to put it, she placed the tray on the cot. Face glanced at it, to see sandwiches and a plastic beaker of water. He wanted to grab both at once, but he ignored them for a moment. They would wait. First he had to check out the girl.

Not check out in his usual sense, of course, and she wasn't his usual type of girl either. She wore a dress that he guessed had been cut down from one of Ma's. The pattern was faded and the hems frayed. No makeup. Her hair scraped back. No, he wouldn't usually give her a second look on the street. But now, he studied her very carefully. What would she be here? Enemy, friend, or obstacle?

Friend, it had to be. Look at her. Had a man like Face ever paid attention to her? Had any man? Face could talk her onto his side in less than thirty minutes. Well, if he didn't have one of the Brothers Grim lurking around at the door.

She turned away from his scrutiny, blushing.

"Thanks for the food," Face said, making his stare less intense, and smiling again. "I'm Templeton. What's your name?"

"Bonnie," she said quietly.

Cosmic joke, Face thought. A skinny, plain girl landed with that name. Nothing appropriate about it.

"That's pretty," Face said. She blushed again.

"Hey," Harold called from the door. "Don't be talking to him. You ain't supposed to be talking to him. Ma said you wasn't to talk to him."

She turned to go, but Face called out.

"Bonnie, would you please bring something to wash this blood off?" The dried blood sticking to his hair and skin made it hurt every time he moved his head. Despite that, he turned it a little now, so she could see the damage inflicted by her - he realised he didn't know her relationship to the Watkins. A sister? A wife of one of them? Never mind, he'd find out later.

Bonnie nodded and spoke quietly, glancing at Harold. "I'll bring something later." She hurried out. Harold glared in at Face.

"Still awake?" Face asked. Harold slammed the door.

Face drank the water off all at once, and then grabbed the first of the two sandwiches. He demolished it faster than BA could have managed after a long day on the assault course with no lunch, and then ate the second one more slowly.

The water wasn't enough, but it was all he was getting, he supposed. Perhaps Bonnie could be persuaded to bring him some more. And perhaps she could be persuaded to put some mustard on the ham sandwiches next time.

And then perhaps, she could be persuaded to bring him the keys to these manacles, a fully loaded gun, a set of car keys and directions to Los Angeles. Yes, he thought she could at least be persuaded to bring him the first of those. A girl like that, a man like him. Shooting fish in a barrel came to mind.

He was almost out of here already.