The team lingered over their breakfasts in the morning, staying there from the start of breakfast service right to the end. Kate did not appear.

"Maybe she's not a breakfast person," Face said as they left the mess after the staff finally chased them out to start their clean up. "Lots of women are funny about breakfast."

"You'd know," Hannibal said, making Face look smug. "You could be right. Or she felt like sleeping late that morning. Or she had breakfast in her cabin. Or she isn't feeling good. Could be a hundred reasons. Okay, so we'll split up." He lowered his voice. "Check this ship from bow to stern. Not just to find her; we need to know our way around too. Don't draw too much attention, but hey - we're new, we're exploring, perfectly natural."

As they started to split up and move out Hannibal said, "Guys. The one who spots her first gets to sleep in tomorrow." He grinned. Face and BA just snorted and Murdock laughed. Like they ever got to sleep in.

Hannibal headed for the recreation areas. He wandered through a couple of lounges, full of comfortable chairs where people sat around chatting, reading, snoozing - like folks on a vacation. A group of older women sat on sofas arranged in a square with a coffee table in the middle, all knitting, or doing needlework. The coffee table was a riot of brightly coloured balls and skeins of yarn and thread.

He gave them a charming smile as he passed, and said, "Good morning, ladies", provoking some interested looks and smiles in return. Kate Miller wasn't among the group.

Another room had a several tables with groups mostly playing cards, but a few playing board games. One especially intense looking group sat around a Monopoly board. Hannibal wondered how many years that game had been running. He made a circuit of that room quickly, since most of the players were men.

A TV lounge next, with an episode of The Love Boat playing on the screens, which made him chuckle. Probably all videotapes, he thought, and wondered how much of what went on in the outside world that these people were allowed to hear about.

He strolled back out into the main lounge and noticed some small tables set up along the windows. Some people sat at them with a coffee and a book, or writing, but he noticed one middle-aged man sitting alone with a chess set in front of him, glancing at his watch and looking annoyed.

Kate Miller was a pretty advanced chess player, Hannibal recalled from her file. If she still played and this guy was a serious player too, then maybe he knew her. When Hannibal strolled closer he saw that the table had a timing clock on it. Yeah, probably a serious player then.

Hannibal strolled up to the window, gazing out at the ocean. He glanced to the right when the man at the table sighed, looking at his watch again.

"You been stood up?"

The man looked up at him and grimaced.

"People are entirely unreliable. Ten o'clock means exactly ten o'clock. How hard is that to grasp?"

Hannibal glanced at the wall clock. Almost ten past the hour now.

"I don't suppose you know how to play?" the man said, looking hopeful.

"Yeah, I know." He looked at his watch, for effect. "Don't know if I've got time though." Then he shrugged. "Aw, hell. What else have we got around here but time?" He sat down opposite the pleased looking man.

"Jack Reese," Hannibal said, offering his hand. "Military Intelligence."

"Ron Baxter." The man shook Hannibal's hand. "CIA."

"Nice to meet you, Ron."

Baxter turned the board so the white pieces were on Hannibal's side. "Since you're new here, please, be my guest."

"Thanks." Hannibal wouldn't turn down any advantage. He needed to make this game last. Diving straight in with questions about Miller might raise suspicions. He studied his pieces carefully, deciding his opening move, before moving a pawn and tapping the timing clock.

"So, you a good player?" Hannibal asked. Baxter made his move only a second after Hannibal's and tapped the clock.

"I'm a Grand Master. I used to work the international chess circuit for the CIA. Keeping tabs on the Russians, looking out for potential defectors."

Hannibal's hope that he could make the game last died as fast as it was born. He smiled at Baxter.

"Best of three?"

~~~~

Kate looked up when the hatch opened and Blaine came in carrying a cardboard box, setting it on the table in front of her. The table and chair and a narrow cot she'd slept on last night were the only furnishings in the compartment. She recognised the chair from poolside. It had an armrest missing. The table came from the rec rooms and had a severe wobble. Blaine must have borrowed them from the repair shop. She had no idea where he'd scrounged the cot from.

"Lunch, ma'am," he said, as polite as he'd been from the beginning. He didn't bother to draw his gun. What could an old woman do against a strong young man like him? "Sorry, it's only sandwiches and fruit. I'll try to bring something hot for dinner."

"Did you get to my cabin? Did you check on Sammy?" She'd asked him to do that when he brought her breakfast earlier.

"I... haven't had a chance yet." He smiled at her, reassuringly. "I'm sure your canary is fine, ma'am."

"You promised you'd check on him. He should have his water changed and food filled up. Will you check him this afternoon?"

Blaine sighed, but Kate had no sympathy. If anything happened to that bird...

"I'll try to check on him soon. Perhaps you'd like me to bring him down here to keep you company?"

"No." She could smell oil and all sorts of gas and chemicals in the air down here near the engine rooms. Poor Sammy would keel over at once. "Just check on him."

She hadn't asked Blaine about why he'd brought her here. It seemed obvious to her that he'd been ordered to put her on ice. He hadn't interrogated her, or asked her anything other than what she wanted to eat and if she was warm enough. He may not even know himself why she had to be taken and locked up in a compartment deep in the bowels of the ship. He'd been told to and he'd followed orders.

And now he was waiting. For further orders? Or reinforcements?

It couldn't be a coincidence that he grabbed her right after the arrival of the A-Team. Did that mean he knew about them though? He may not. Again, just following orders, waiting for the next one.

Well, whether he knew or not, somebody did. So they must be sending someone, either to stop the team taking Kate off the Meirion or to take her first. Kate could only hope the team would find her before Blaine's reinforcements arrived. She'd heard the A-Team was good. She hoped they were still good enough.

~~~~

To establish his cover, Hannibal had been talking with barely feigned bitterness about the iniquitous government that had sent him here. Baxter nodded sympathetically. He knew who'd made the decision to send 'Jack' here.

"It's the computers, you see," Baxter said.

"Computers?"

"They run the whole thing now."

"I see," Hannibal said, slowly.

"The treat humans like pieces on a board."

This guy lost a few too many chess games to a computer, Hannibal thought. Baxter talked for a while about the secret artificial intelligence that ran the world now. Perfected from a chess-playing computer, he said. That's why it viewed the whole world as a chess board.

"Right..." Hannibal needed to change the subject. It was lunchtime already and he still hadn't asked about Kate Miller. "Hey, you know, yesterday I thought I saw someone I knew. A woman."

Baxter didn't look up, busy studying the board. Hannibal's chess prowess was so far below Baxter's that it actually confused the expert. Hannibal had started to move pieces almost at random, knowing Baxter would assume he had a game plan and waste time trying to figure it out. In the two hours they'd played Hannibal had lost five games. Against this guy, he considered that pretty good going.

"I think it was her anyway," Hannibal went on. "But hell, it was thirty years ago. She was a pretty hot chess player actually. Well, she was pretty hot all around back then. Older than me, but..."

Baxter did look up now. "Women can't play chess," he said. "Well, not to the same level as us. Their brains don't focus in the proper way."

"Yeah?" Hannibal decided to avoid getting into that debate. "Well, anyway, if it was her and she still plays chess, maybe you know her."

"Name?"

"Miller. Dr Katherine Miller."

Baxter nodded. "Yes. A fair player, despite the disadvantage of her sex."

"You - um - happen to know her cabin number?" Hannibal kept his voice as casual as he could. Don't draw attention, don't want the answer too much.

"No. Sorry."

Hannibal covered most of his disappointment. "Shame. I could have paid a call. Chatted about old times. She had quite a thing for me. Wonder if she's still carrying that torch."

Baxter stared at him, then shook his head. "Good God, man, pray that she's not."

"Huh?"

"A somewhat... single-minded lady, I'll give her that. More so than most women are capable of. Or men for that matter. Checkmate."

~~~~

When the team reconvened at dinner, they all had negative reports and it was time to go to plan B. They went back to the cabins with a security man following.

"I'll grab the cards," Face said, as the rest of the team headed into Hannibal's cabin. He came back out of his cabin a few moments later and headed into Hannibal's. The guard was still in the corridor.

"Our guard dog still out there?" Hannibal asked.

"Large as life," Face confirmed, handing Hannibal the cards.

"Okay, in that case, we've got a couple of hours to kill." He sat at the table and started shuffling the cards. "Stud or Hold 'em?"

A couple of hours passed while they played cards and talked about what they'd found in their exploration of the ship. You never knew what little detail might come in handy later. At last, Hannibal checked his watch and nodded at Face and Murdock.

"Time."

"Right." Murdock faked a yawn. "My goodness, I'm tired. I think it's time for bed, don't you, Face?"

"Just go do your thing," BA said. "Don't be acting for us."

Face and Murdock left Hannibal's cabin, pausing in the doorway to say goodnight. Murdock gave another yawn for the benefit of the security guard.

"I'm gonna hit the sack," he said to Face. "All this sea air. Think I'm gonna sleep better here than I ever have in my life."

"I know what you mean." Face stretched and then opened his cabin door. "I'm ready to turn in too. See you in the morning, Larry."

"Goodnight, Ryan," Murdock said, and vanished into his cabin. Face glanced at the guard, nodded a goodnight to him, and went inside.

An hour, Hannibal had said. Around midnight, he and BA would do their act. Face quickly changed into darker clothes, turned off the light and sat on the bed to wait.

The darkness started him yawning and he realised he really was tired. Murdock was right about the sea air. An hour gave him time for a nap, so he set an alarm on his watch for ten to midnight. The watch alarm was quiet, it would wake most people; but Face slept lightly. He lay down and closed his eyes.

The beeping of the alarm woke him and he sat up, alert and listening. All quiet outside. He took a peek out of his door's peephole, but could only see Hannibal's cabin door across the corridor.

He took his bathrobe from the hook on the wardrobe door and slipped it on over his clothes. His hair was already messed up, authentic bed-head. He'd have to look out of his door in a few minutes, to see if the guard was still there. If he was, then Face had better look like a man just roused from his bed.

The sound of raised voices took him quickly back to the peephole. The voices were muffled for a moment, then Hannibal's door opened and they grew loud as BA and Hannibal spilled out into the corridor.

"I ain't taking this!" BA shouted. "I wanna see the captain!"

"It's midnight!" Hannibal said. "You think they're gonna let you see the captain at midnight?"

"He'll see me if I gotta drag him outta his bunk by the scruff of his neck."

"Will you be quiet!" Hannibal snapped, too loud himself. "You'll wake up Ryan and Larry." He lowered his voice and took BA's arm. "Come on, let's go and discuss it somewhere you can yell without waking up half the ship."

"I'm gonna see the captain!" BA stomped off heading away from the guard's position. Hannibal shook his head, looking exasperated, and hurried after him calling for him to wait. Their voices faded as they moved off.

The show was out of Face's view now. A second later, a man passed Face's door, following Hannibal and BA. He crossed too fast for Face to be sure it was the guard, so he still had a knot of tension in his gut when he opened his door. He peered out, a sleepy and grumpy expression painted on, ready to demand they all shut the hell up.

The corridor was empty. The guard had followed BA and Hannibal, believing "Ryan" and "Larry" were safely asleep in their cabins. Relieved, he slipped off the bathrobe, smoothed down his hair and left the cabin. A soft tap on Murdock's door brought Murdock out at once, wearing dark clothes like Face.

"You got your bag of tricks?" Murdock asked.

"Always," Face said, his hand resting briefly on his pocket and the black velvet fold that held his lock picks. They'd come aboard in an artfully concealed pocket in his suitcase, and were the first thing he'd checked for when he got the case back. Murdock gestured 'after you' at Face and they headed out.

They made most of the trip outside, slipping through the shadows on the deck. There were still people around inside - night owls, late night card players, or midnight movie enthusiasts. Better to stay out of their way.

In the dark, the deck was almost deserted. Security patrols of course, and a few people walking in pairs, enjoying the starlight. Couples, Face supposed, and tried to imagine pursuing a romance on the Meirion. Fine as long as it worked out. But imagine having a bad break-up and being stuck here forever with your ex. That would make the boat feel awfully small.

Face and Murdock stuck to the shadows as much as possible, which wasn't hard as there was a lot of cover on deck. Ships had many nooks and crannies and Face had made a note of them during his earlier search of the ship in daylight. They took full advantage of them.

They lurked in the cover of some stacked deckchairs as two security men walked by, not even glancing at a man and woman by the rail who were wrapped in each other's arms.

"Maybe we should snuggle," Murdock whispered.

"What?" Face said, startled.

"They seem to pretty much ignore the love-birds," Murdock said, and Face saw the flash of his teeth in the dark as he grinned.

"There's only so far I'll go for a mission."

The patrol was far enough away, and the lovers at the rail preoccupied, so Face beckoned Murdock to follow and they headed out again. He glanced at his watch when they approached the point they'd have to head back inside. Well after midnight now. Their destination should be deserted.

"Here," Face said, when they found the door. It was locked and marked 'No admittance', but that never applied to Face. He defeated the simple lock in about twenty seconds and left the door unlocked after they slipped inside, ready for a quick exit.

"Face," Murdock whispered. He nodded up the corridor. From around the corner a light glowed and they distantly heard a typewriter. "Someone's catching up on some late night paperwork."

Probably the duty officer standing watch, Face thought. And they had to pass that way to get to the records office.

From the amount of light visible the office door must be open. Reaching the corner Face glanced around and confirmed that. He wondered if the occupant could see out into the corridor from the desk? Could Face and Murdock flit by fast enough that they'd be gone before whoever was in there registered the movement?

He was still pondering when the sound of the typewriter stopped. Face froze. A moment later an officer came out of the room, carrying a coffee mug and walked into a small galley that lay opposite. They heard him rummaging about and Face pictured him setting up the coffee machine, looking for the filters, finding a clean spoon, washing up his mug... all with his back to the door.

"Go," Face said. They moved up the corridor passing the galley door, fast. The officer did have his back to the door, looking in the fridge. A second later they were around the corner and breathing easier.

Face oriented himself, picturing the plans in his head. He took out the flashlight so conveniently provided in each cabin. For emergencies of course, not for sneaking around breaking into the ship's offices.

The second door on the left was marked 'Purser's Office', a reminder of the Meirion's past as a normal cruise ship. Face took out his picks again.

They found a large room inside, holding three desks with electric typewriters bolted to them. Leaving the light off and Murdock keeping watch at the door, Face moved to the filing cabinets that lined the walls. Using his flashlight to check the labels on the front of the drawers, he stopped when he found the one marked Ma Mi. It was locked, but he quickly picked it and began to rifle through the folders inside.

These were admin records only, according to Stockwell's info; cabin designations, background information. All the medical records were elsewhere. The team didn't need - or want - access to those.

The files slid easily along the runners set into the side, the drawer not very full. Each folder had a picture on the front of it, which Face was grateful for. Easier to look at faces than read the names by the beam of his small flashlight. He happened to have a good eye for faces. The faces flashed past as he flicked through, men and women, all ages. Some photographs were a little old and faded, some more recent.

Wait.

He stopped and flicked back one file. He's gone right past it - a man's face, not a woman's, so he'd dismissed it. Until something in his brain hit the alarm. He picked the file up and shone his flashlight beam onto the picture.

"Well I'll be damned..."

"You find it?" Murdock called softly from the door.

"Not yet," Face said. Well look at that. On the front of the file, under 'Current Status', a couple of lines were crossed out and under them, hand-written, one word.

"Face, what are you doing? Updating the 'crazy chicks' section of your little black book? Move it, will ya?"

Face ignored Murdock and opened the file. Committed here nearly seven years ago and escaped two years after that. So much for 'escape is impossible'. Stockwell was full of bull as usual. Believed 'at large', the file said. These people needed to do some updating. Perhaps he could help. He smirked. He could cross out 'Escaped', change it to 'Deceased' and drop it into an in-tray on one of the desks.

Movement at his elbow and Murdock appeared, a scowl on his face. "Will you move it before someone comes?" He looked at the small round porthole window. "If you think I'm squeezing my ass through there..."

Wordlessly, Face closed the folder and handed it to Murdock, then continued through the drawer, looking for Kate Miller's file. Murdock, baffled, looked at the front of the folder and gasped.

"Frankie?"