Hannibal, BA and Murdock took turns standing watch while Face rested, recovering his strength. Hannibal told him to sleep, but most of the time when he looked at Face, his eyes were open, staring at nothing. When he did sleep he woke sweating and sometimes with a cry of fear. A fresh trauma to add to the stale ones. He accepted no comfort from the others when he woke like that, just turned away and closed in on himself again.

Concern over who might be listening in kept Hannibal from asking Face to talk about what was on his mind. Was it more than what the Marines did to him? Hannibal would just have to be patient. Once they got out of here, then they'd talk. Meanwhile he concentrated on keeping BA from killing Murdock and got some sleep himself when he could.

The meals kept coming; prompt, hot and substantial. Blaine looked in regularly to check they had everything they needed. In the morning the Ables took them one at a time to have a shower, shave and put on fresh clothes. The medic came in to check on Face several times. They saw nothing of the Marines or Carla.

At last the boat's motion changed, the ever-present thrum of its engines stilled and Hannibal knew they were at anchor.

Blaine appeared at the door a few minutes later. "Gentlemen, we've arrived. The exchange is scheduled to take place in ten minutes." He looked at them warily, perhaps wondering if they were going to cause trouble at the last minute. "Ms Frasier asked me to remind you that you're not being handed over to anyone as prisoners. You're going free."

"Is this another double-cross?" Hannibal asked the blunt question out of nowhere, studying Blaine carefully for his reaction.

"No," Blaine said and his voice and face were sincere. "Colonel," he went on quietly, "as far as I'm aware this is not a double-cross. You'll be free as soon as the exchange is completed."

"I'd better not see Randall or any of his men," Hannibal said. "Or you'll have another big mess to clean up. We'll cooperate - if I only see Ables."

"Understood." Blaine nodded his agreement. "Don't worry, the Marines are confined to quarters until you're off the boat."

"Um, are you guys just going to dump us in Australia with no papers?" Murdock asked. "How are we supposed to get home?"

"That's all arranged." Blaine looked at his watch. "Time to go."

The team rose, getting ready to go. BA and Murdock helped Face up and Murdock helped him on with a jacket.

"Before you go," Blaine said. "I just wanted to say, it's been very... interesting meeting all of you. A shame we were on opposite sides this time."

"Who knows what the future holds?" Hannibal said, smiling, but then growing more serious, when he saw Face scowl at him. "Well, you chose the right side in that fight. And what you did for Face... we appreciate it."

"Yes," Face said, his voice still hoarse from his ordeal in the airlock. He smiled wanly at Blaine. "Thanks, pal."

"You're welcome." Blaine offered his hand to each of them for a shake as they filed out of the room, Hannibal leaving last. "Good luck, Colonel."

~~~~

Carla's boat was anchored at the end of a long pier, which led to low buildings on the dock. Customs sheds, Face supposed, shading his eyes to look at them. Distant figures and vehicles moved around the sheds. Dockworkers going about their day.

Another boat, much smaller than this one, was docked at the other side of the pier. It was the yacht that had taken them to the Meirion, and that had left them behind after Stockwell's betrayal. Both boats had their gangways extended to the pier.

"Nice day," Murdock said. "Almost like LA."

Face looked around at the blue sea and sky. Gulls called as they wheeled overhead and he breathed in the familiar salty tang of the sea. Yes, a nice day. And very like home.

"Time," Carla said, appearing behind them. Two people had started to walk down from Stockwell's boat. Men stood ranged along the rail on that boat. The Ables did the same on the cargo ship. Carla stepped in front of the team and led them down the gangway. Blaine brought up the rear, but stopped part way down, watching the other boat carefully.

Murdock hovered around Face, in mother hen mode, something that usually irritated Face. But he didn't mind today, still feeling the worse for wear from his ordeal in the airlock. He'd have liked more sleep on the way here, but his mind had been too busy. Much too busy.

The two people coming from the other boat were Stockwell and Kate Miller. They stopped at the foot of the gangway. Carla stopped, close enough to call over to Kate.

"You have the information?"

"I have it."

"Send it over."

"Send the team over."

Carla nodded to Hannibal and he made a small gesture at the team. They walked forward slowly. Stockwell did the same.

"We could grab him when we pass and throw him in the water," Murdock suggested, loudly, making sure Stockwell heard.

"Nice idea," Hannibal said. "But we did promise not to cause trouble."

"Promises are made to be broken," Murdock said. "At least let me trip him up?"

"Sorry, Captain." They reached the middle of the pier. Stockwell nodded to them.

"Good morning, gentlemen."

"Drop dead," Face suggested.

"And burn in hell," Murdock added.

Stockwell ignored that and walked on. He wasn't carrying anything, Face noticed, and frowned. Strange. Did Miller's Zephyr information fit right in his pocket?

"Guys," he said softly, "something is going on."

"Yes," Hannibal said. "Be ready for trouble. Are you okay, Doc?" he said as they reached Miller. She nodded and they all turned to see Stockwell had reached Carla. He didn't hand her anything.

"Where's the information?" Carla called over to Kate.

"That's it," Kate called back. "That's all the information I have about Zephyr. All I ever had."

"What... you mean him? Stockwell?" Carla's voice grew angry. "That wasn't the deal!"

"I never said it was in easily readable form." Kate grinned.

Carla stood for a moment, fury on her face, glaring at her old boss. Face could imagine the look on his face. An impassive stare that Face always wanted to smack with a brick. Then her face cleared, and she almost cracked a smile. Of course, who wouldn't want their old boss as a prisoner, entirely at their mercy? Sweet deal.

"Very well," Carla called, and took Stockwell's arm to lead him up the gangway. Stockwell turned once and raised a hand, a wave goodbye, then walked onto Carla's boat.

"We just letting her take him?" Murdock asked, as Stockwell disappeared below decks. Sailors started to haul up the gangway.

"Fool's got a point," BA said. "I mean, he does have that information. What if she gets it outta him?"

"She won't torture Stockwell," Face said.

"Um, she had you tortured," Murdock pointed out.

"There's a difference between pawns and players."

"I wouldn't worry about it, guys," Hannibal said. "He'll tell her all about Zephyr, if she forces him. Of course it won't be the same thing he told us about Zephyr..."

"A cover story," Face said. "Ah... right."

"Actually," Murdock said, "I just meant I had all kinda plans for what I wanted to do to him."

Hannibal chuckled. "I'm sure Carla has too. And I expect he has his own plans for her. Leave 'em to it, I say." He turned to Kate. "You organise this? You get the drop on him?"

"I thought I did." She grimaced. "But I think I'd have to get up a lot earlier in the morning to get the drop on that man. And no, I didn't organise this. It was his idea."

"What?" Face said, incredulous. "He gave himself up to free us?"

"That confirms it then," Hannibal said. "He definitely has plans."

A man from Stockwell's yacht came down the gangway. He carried a briefcase, which he handed to Hannibal.

"Your passports, travel documents, and some working cash, sir." He turned to Miller. "Time to go, Doctor."

Face saw it then. Or rather didn't see it. She didn't have the birdcage. It must be somewhere on the yacht, which meant she was getting back on the yacht, and he realised what that meant.

"No," Face snapped, jumping forward and tugging her away from the man.

"It's all right," she said, pulling away. "I'm going back to the Meirion. I agreed."

"What?" Hannibal said it for the rest of the team. "That's the deal you made with Stockwell? No way! Not after what we went through to get you out."

"I gave him my word," she said. "He gave me his." She glanced over at Carla's boat as the engines roared and it began to move away from the pier. "And he kept it." She sounded amazed.

"But he's gone," Murdock said. "You don't have to go." He looked at the men, the crew of the yacht and a couple of enforcer types. "We can handle these guys."

"Murdock," Hannibal said. "Let her go."

"But..."

"We gave our word too," Hannibal said. "Doc, you know a fellow name of Baxter back on the Meirion?" At her nod he went on. "You look him up and tell him we'll keep our promise."

"Of course." Kate turned to go with Stockwell's men - or whoever they worked for now. But she turned back at the last moment. "This is all my fault. I don't have time to explain why. But I'm sorry you ended up getting the worst of it."

Hannibal waved a hand dismissively. "We've been getting the worst of it since 1973. We're used to it." He winked at her. "Be seeing you, Doc."

She only nodded in reply and turned away to walk back up the gangway. The team watched while the yacht departed the pier and set out to sea.

"Right," Hannibal said. "Let's see what we've got in this briefcase, then we need to look up the addresses for newspapers in this town." He opened the case, turned it around to show them and Face started checking the items in there.

"Our own passports. Stockwell had them of course. Tourist visas to enter Australia. Cash, some Australian dollars, some US dollars. Plane tickets, Sydney to Los Angeles."

The plane tickets had their names on them and were dated for a flight in two days time. Face handed each of the team the appropriate papers and plane ticket. He divided the cash into four roughly equal parts and handed that around too. The others looked at him, puzzled, as he did the divvying up, probably wondering why he didn't keep it all together in the briefcase.

But Face had his reasons. The passport, visa and cash, he put in his pocket - he'd taken only Australian money for himself. He looked at the plane ticket in his hand. It fluttered in the brisk sea breeze. Not even first class. Cheapskates.

Face tore up the ticket and let the breeze whip the shreds out to sea.