"He has friends who are," Hannibal said.

"He doesn't have friends!" Murdock laughed. "He has people he's got something on, or who owe him favours."

"True," Hannibal nodded. He looked around in the darkness. "He'd better show up soon. Has us to come to New Zealand under our own steam and then leaves us waiting on a dock in the middle of the night."

"Maybe it's all part of his plan," Murdock said. "Lure us here and steal our passports so we can't ever go home and bother him again."

Hannibal laughed. "Yeah, the United States ain't big enough for the both of us."

"I thought that from the start." Face stomped up and down the dock. Not just for warmth, but trying to work out the worries that still lingered. It's a mistake. It's Stockwell. Stockwell always means trouble and death. Always. The man's poison.

BA was apparently in no better mood than Face. He sat on a mooring piling and sipped hot chocolate. When he saw Face stamping around, he filled another cup from a Thermos and held it out to him. Grateful, Face took it and stood beside him, away from Hannibal and Murdock.

Despite a week to get used to the idea, every instinct still told Face that they shouldn't do this. He'd worked as hard as the others, studying all the information about the ship and his cover ID - if he had to do the job, he'd do it right - but he still hadn't started to come around to the idea. It was for National Security of course. It could even save the whole world, if that Zephyr information really was floating around some place. None of that made it right. He sighed.

"Faceman," BA said quietly. "You hate this as much as I do?"

"Yeah, BA. I do."

"We could tell 'em where to stick it. Even Hannibal can't force us to do nothing any more. And Stockwell sure can't."

"I know, but I think Hannibal and Murdock would go anyway. And you know how those two are without us."

BA snorted. "Yeah, they'll fit in with all the crazies without having to act."

"Anyway." Face smiled, cheering up by a tiny amount at least. "Who knows? Hannibal.... maybe he just might have a different plan in mind than Stockwell's."

"Yeah," BA agreed, with his own small smile. "He always did."

~~~~

"Good luck." Stockwell raised his hand as the boat cast off, leaving him behind on the dock. He couldn't come along, he said. The transfer had to be as official as possible. He'd pulled in many favours to set it up, and they couldn't risk any slip-ups.

Hannibal grinned and waved back, earning dirty looks from Face and BA. Murdock waved too, except - Hannibal laughed – it was a one-finger salute. So long, sucker.

When Stockwell, the dock and eventually the lights of the coast vanished into the darkness, the team went below decks, into the yacht's small living area. In the room set aside for them they sat around a table, suddenly tense and quiet. Hannibal thought about ordering them to get some sleep, but he knew that would be no more than an order to lie down and close their eyes.

To pass the hours it would take to get to the Meirion, they tested each other on their cover identities and fake symptoms. They went over the layout of the cruise ship again. The yacht crew - Hannibal guessed they were Navy guys, thought they wore civvies - knocked on the door sometimes and offered them food or coffee. The team ate with the sailors and exchanged some friendly banter, but the crew never asked about the team's mission. Clearly they were far too well trained in the 'need to know' concept for that.

Dawn over the sea found the yacht approaching a distant ship, resting at anchor. On deck, Hannibal checked it out through binoculars. If he didn't know better, he'd think it was a perfectly ordinary liner. The Italian flag, to go with its cover registration, fluttered over it, snapping in the breeze.

Having four new patients arrive together wouldn't be unusual, Stockwell explained. Sending several patients to the ship at once, rather than one at a time, was standard procedure, Stockwell had explained. This minimised the number of trips back and forth that the wrong people might notice. So, part of the team's cover was that they'd spent time together in another secret facility, until the group came to the Meirion en masse. And that meant they had an excuse to hang out together on board without arousing suspicion. Stockwell covered all the angles, Hannibal thought. Can't fault the man for attention to detail.

"Okay, let's do it," Hannibal said and the crew members came forward carrying life jackets and safety harnesses. The team put them on with no objections, knowing what was coming.

The calm sea allowed the yacht to pull up right alongside the Meirion and the side of the huge ship towering above them cast the yacht in shadow. A hatch was open in the side and, after a good twenty minutes of grappling and shouting between crewmen on both sides, the two vessels lined up close together.

Despite their life jackets and safety harnesses, none of the team looked keen on the jump from the yacht into the hatch. They could slip or just miss the hatch altogether as the yacht rose and fell on the waves. Though the safety line would keep them out of the water, they'd bash right into the hull of the ship or the yacht. Or worse, be crushed between the two.

BA wore a look that suggested his objection to the helicopter boarding option might have been too hasty. Murdock and Face were glaring at Hannibal as if this was all his fault. Hannibal didn't mind the dirty looks. Their surly and even hostile attitudes fitted their covers. Men told they were going to a special facility for further treatment would be getting mighty suspicious about now.

"Supposing I don't wanna jump?" BA demanded of the yacht's sailors, loud enough for the waiting men at the hatch to hear as well. "Supposing none of us wants to jump. You gonna pick us up and throw us?" The sailors played their parts, looking ready to do just that.

"Just jump," Hannibal growled at BA. "We don't have a lot of choice here."

"He can come last!" A sailor from the Meirion called over, probably hoping he'd have gone off on his lunch break by the time it was BA's turn.

Hannibal took the lead. A sailor secured a line to the back of his harness, and he stood at the edge of the deck, a rail folded back to open a space. The timing had to be just right. Watch the gap, and watch the height. You want to be jumping down, not up. Men waited at the hatch, ready to catch him. Hannibal took a few steps back, then ran and jumped.

He landed, feet stumbling on the deck, the sailors catching him, keeping him upright, pulling him away from the open hatch. Voices assured him he was fine, they had him and in a moment he stood still, feeling secure. A man quickly uncoupled the rope from his harness and tossed it back over to the yacht, ready for the next man.

Steady on his feet again, Hannibal looked around the compartment he found himself in. A lieutenant supervised the men at the hatch, but kept glancing back at Hannibal, with a wary expression. As well as the sailors manning the hatch and bringing the men across, several others stood around on the periphery. They wore sailor uniforms, with the insignia the fake cruise line.

Hannibal had always thought sailor suits were kind of funny looking. Sort of jolly. He'd had one as a small boy, and had considered himself the bee's knees in it. Until the first time another boy saw him wearing it, anyway.

These sailors in their jolly uniforms had rifles.

Murdock came over next, and stumbling to his knees. Hannibal started forward, but the armed sailors stepped up to block his way. Seeing Murdock back on his feet right away, Hannibal didn't protest further, just backed off. In a moment, Murdock joined Hannibal.

"Nice landing," Hannibal said.

"Hey, any landing you walk away from..." Murdock said and shrugged.

Face joined them a couple of minutes later, complaining loudly all the way, which may or may not have been in character as 'Ryan Ashton'. Hannibal couldn't say. But Face could probably list fifty things he'd rather be doing instead of this, and he wouldn't be shy about mentioning that.

BA came last and almost scattered the sailors waiting to catch him like so many bowling pins. One did end up on his behind, and BA held out his hand to help him back to his feet.

"I think you nearly swamped the ship," Murdock said, when BA came over to them. "Sure I felt a distinct lurch."

BA just glared, apparently not ready to talk again yet. Some thumps from the hatch made Hannibal look over to see the team's luggage, four identical suitcases, landing on the deck. Sailors surrounded the team suddenly, but only to take off the safety harnesses and life jackets. A moment later, they'd tossed those back over to the yacht and closed up the hatch. The yacht would be manoeuvring away already, Hannibal knew. As the bulkhead hatch clanged shut, cutting off the sunlight from outside, the team exchanged glances.

Now they were on their own.

The officer in charge came over and smiled at them, holding out his hand.

"Lieutenant Gary Blaine." He only got a handshake from Murdock. The others gave him hostile looks.

"What the hell is this place?" Hannibal demanded, playing his role now.

"It's a treatment facility." Blaine gave them another smile, but this time it rang very false. "I know it's somewhat unusual. But I promise you'll receive an explanation soon. After you settle in. Now if you follow me, I'll show you to your cabins."

"This is nuts," BA muttered, as they followed Blaine out of the compartment. The sailors with rifles followed them. "I never heard of no clinic on a ship before. What's going on?"

"Aw, it's not so bad," Murdock said. "Like a cruise! Better than that damn clinic. Was I getting tired of that place!"

Blaine guided them up a companionway and brought them out into a passenger area of the ship. It had carpeting and painted walls. A little grubbier than you'd find on an actual cruise ship, but clean enough.

"These are the accommodation areas," he explained. "You should find your cabins quite comfortable. All of them have private bathroom facilities. We'll bring you your luggage soon."

"After you've searched it?" Face said.

"Sorry, that is standard procedure, yes. After that, we try to give all of our passengers as much privacy as possible." He glanced back at them, smiling the fake smile again. The junior officers must draw lots for who got this crappy duty, Hannibal thought. Greeting the new arrivals without letting it slip that they'd never leave here. No wonder the guy was sweating right through his white shirt.

"Cut the bullshit, Lieutenant," Hannibal snapped. "This is some kind of god-damn floating jail, isn't it?"

BA and Face muttered their agreement. Blaine shook his head.

"No, sir, this isn't a jail. It's a hospital."

That silenced everyone for a moment. Eventually Face spoke.

"I'm better. I know, that incident... what happened in Bulgaria... that was bad, but I'm over it."

"I... don't know anything about your individual cases," Blaine said. "I'm not on the medical staff. But we have excellent doctors here. You'll get the best possible care. Ah, these are your cabins. We've given you four beside each other." He waved a hand at the doors, two on each side of the corridor. "I'm told you spent several months together in the other facility, so you might find it easier to settle in with familiar faces around you."

"Great! Hear that guys? We're neighbours!" Murdock enthused. He opened the nearest door and peeked into the room.

"You'll find full information about the ship in there," Blaine said. "The areas you can and can't go, for your own safety. Where the mess deck is. Where your lifeboat stations are." He snapped his fingers and made a note on his paper. "Boat drill. I'd better organise one. When new passengers board that's -"

"Standard procedure," Hannibal said. "Yeah." He'd had enough of acting now; he wanted to talk to the guys, and wanted Blaine out of there. "Okay, okay." He put a resigned tone in his voice. The others picked up on his cue. Face gave a big sigh and slumped his shoulders. Even BA lost the scowl. "Okay," Hannibal said to Blaine, voice tired and defeated, as if he hadn't the strength left to deal with this crazy situation. "Look we're all tired and we didn't get any breakfast. Can you have some food sent along for us?"

"Of course. I'll organise that right away. I know you have a lot of questions, but they'll be answered soon, I promise." He gave them a sympathetic look and Hannibal liked him for a moment. Guy just wanted to do his job.

The team chose a door each and went into their cabins. Hannibal checked his out quickly, a combined bedroom and sitting room, with basic furniture and a small bathroom. Like a tiny one room apartment. All clean and dust free, unlived in and waiting for someone to take up residence. It had no window, as they were inside cabins. Probably temporary cabins for new arrivals, he thought. They'd get permanent ones later.

Of course, the team weren't planning to stick around that long.

Hannibal wondered how one got a cabin up on the boat deck. Did it go by who was the craziest, or previously highest in rank? Probably down to who'd been here longest and... dead man's shoes, of course. Since he didn't have his luggage to unpack yet, he picked up the leather folder that lay on a table. It was almost like the information pack for a real cruise liner. Except the part about the psychiatric staff.

He poked his head out of the door and found a sailor stationed a few yards up the corridor. He didn't have a rifle, but did carry a sidearm.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"Just going to have a chat with my friends," Hannibal said.

He knocked on each door and a moment later, they all piled into Hannibal's cabin. He glanced back over his shoulder as he closed the door, wondering if that sailor out there could hear them.

Still cautious, he steered them into the tiny bathroom. Murdock stood inside the shower to get a bit of elbow room. Unwrapped packets of soap and full bottles of shampoo stood on shelves and racks. Even a toothbrush still in its pack. Hannibal figured patients just requested things from stock. Imagine, never again going to a store. Never again cooking your own meals, or washing your own clothes. It was seductive and horrible at the same time.

"Well?" Hannibal said. "We all okay?"

"They'll be double-checking our IDs now," Face said. "In five minutes they could bust down that door and finish this before it starts."

"Don't worry," Hannibal said. "Stockwell has got it covered. If there's one thing he's good at, it's details."

"I just thought of something he can't have covered," Murdock said. "What if we run into someone we know?"

That would put a crimp in their plans. But they'd all changed their appearances to look less like the infamous A-Team. New haircuts. Any distinctive clothes left behind. Hannibal had even resolved to go without cigars for the duration to take away another identifying characteristic. And of course, they were all getting older. No longer the men who had featured in Amy Allen's news stories at the height of their fame.

"I guess we send the abort signal, if that happens," Hannibal said. They just had to get into the radio room to send it, but he knew they could manage that. "For now, the plan is a go. Locating Miller's cabin is the first priority."

He stifled a sudden yawn and glanced at his watch. They'd all been up all night, he recalled. So, sleep became the first priority, he decided. They'd almost certainly end up doing a lot of sneaking about at night.

"Security will watch us closely at first," he said. "Us being the new guys. So we take a couple of days to let them get used to us, while we get the lay of the land."

"Lay of the land?" Murdock laughed. "Oh, boy, is that the wrong turn of phrase!"