"So, what do you think happened?" BA asked when Hannibal finished explaining what he knew. He glanced into the back of the van. Face had been sitting with his head in his hands while Hannibal talked. Now he looked up at BA.

"What makes you think I didn't do it?" Face asked in a bitter tone. He looked rather green now, BA noticed. Sick.

"Don't be stupid," BA growled. They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the van's radio playing quietly, as they listened for a news report.

"I... I've been thinking about it," Face said, "and thinking, well, guys, what if I did it in my sleep?"

"No." Hannibal's voice sounded like he didn't expect an argument, but Face went on anyway.

"I've heard of murder cases where men have been acquitted, because they killed their wives while they were dreaming or sleepwalking or --"

"And those might just have been guys with very good defence lawyers."

"Yeah," BA said. "You wouldn't strangle a girl, man, I know it."

"What if I had a flashback?" Face's question shut them both up. "If I thought I was back in 'Nam --"

"You didn't strangle no girls in 'Nam either."

"Can you be certain of that, BA? Colonel?" He looked at them in turn. "How can you really be sure of that?"

"I'm sure of you."

He recalled a time they'd been in a fight with some hired muscle. In the middle of the brawl, some thug's girlfriend had attacked Face. Barely five feet tall, and wouldn't tip the scales at ninety pounds wearing her winter coat. But she had Face stymied, as he tried to fend her off without pasting her the way he'd done to her boyfriend.

In the end, BA had 'rescued' him, picking the spitfire up bodily and dumping her into a closet. They'd all teased Face about it for weeks: attack of the fifty inch woman! But it told BA for sure that Face wouldn't hurt a woman.

"Look," Face still argued. "If I'd had a flashback, thought she was Vietcong --"

"Face, you've not had a flashback in years," Hannibal said.

"Then how can it have happened?" Face demanded. "Are you telling me someone came into that room and murdered Celia while I slept through it? That's bull, Hannibal. I couldn't sleep through that!"

"You could if you'd been drugged."

"Drugged?" BA and Face chorused.

"You said you weren't drunk, but you look damned hung over to me, Face."

BA looked at Face and nodded, agreed. Bloodshot eyes, pale skin, trembling hands. Yeah, BA agreed with Hannibal.

"I want to take blood from you, get it analysed." He reached into his pocket and drew out two champagne glasses. "These too."

"I... okay." Face frowned. "How do we do that? Get the tests done I mean?"

"I've got a contact, a lab technician, who does 'off the record' drug tests for the studios. We get a sample over to him and he'll get us some results in a couple of days. If you were drugged that proves --"

"But proves it to who?" Face demanded. "It's hardly going to be admissible in court."

"Prove it to you, Face. Proves that someone is framing you." Hannibal glanced at BA. "Then we just have to find out who."

"Yeah." BA growled. "Find out and make 'em pay."

"Okay." Face looked down again. "Thanks guys," he said, quietly. "Thanks for believing me."

"Get us out of here, BA," Hannibal said. "We need to get out of sight. But, pull over when you see a payphone. I have a few calls I need to make."

+-+-+

Murdock had been banned from Group for a week, since he'd tried to turn the last session into a poker game. That had annoyed him at first, but when he answered the phone to hear Hannibal's voice, he felt glad about it. If he hadn't been banned, he wouldn't have been in his room and he'd have missed the call. Everything happens for a reason.

Hannibal's voice surprised him though. Usually Face called him to set up their latest escape based on whatever crazy rare disease he'd found in the medical dictionary this week. Hannibal usually only called up at night, just to chat. He didn't sound as if he wanted to chat now though. His voice was tense.

"Captain, can you speak freely?"

"Sure, Colonel, what's up? We got a mission? Need your flyboy?"

"Murdock, listen." Hannibal talked fast. Traffic noise in the background told Murdock he must be using a payphone on the street. "Something's happened. You need to know about it, before you see it on the news."

"What?" Murdock felt sick, suddenly. "Did something happen to you guys? Face and BA --"

"They're okay, Murdock, well... look, I don't have a lot of time to answer questions. I need to get off the street. Just keep quiet for a minute and listen."

Murdock listened and he felt sicker as Hannibal went on. Understanding Hannibal's need to be brief, he kept quiet and let him tell the whole story before he spoke again.

"Can I talk to Face?"

"Not right now."

"But --"

"Murdock, there's no time. I'll have him call you later."

"Hannibal, I need to talk to him! I need you guys to come get me out."

"No, what you need to do is keep your head down, for your own sake. Don't try to contact us."

"But --"

"That's an order, Captain. You don't need this kind of trouble. Sit tight there and we'll talk to you when we can. I have to go. Murdock. Don't worry. We'll get it fixed."

"Hannibal!" But Murdock was talking to a dial tone. He glared at the phone and slammed it down.

Fixed? How the hell could they get it fixed? Even Hannibal couldn't fix away a murder. Every cop in LA would be looking for Face. The Army would come after them with ten times as many guys, all of them twice as crazy as Decker. This could be the end for the team. How could they come back from this?

Damn, this couldn't be real, could it? Maybe he was dreaming. Or they'd given him the wrong meds and he'd just hallucinated that whole conversation. Yeah, just keep telling yourself that, fool. Then, hey maybe get Billy to sniff out the killer. Wake up and smell reality.

He paced around his room, arms folded, glaring at his furniture and walls as if they'd insulted him personally. Dammit, he needed to talk to Face. Face needed him, right now. Later doesn't cut it, Colonel! He strode over to the TV and switched it on. Dumb chat shows. He flicked around, looking for a news show.

First, he'd make sure this was for real, then... then, well, then he'd decide what to do. Hannibal didn't get to decide what he did. Not this time.

+-+-+

"Hey, Amy, you want this one? Just came off the wire."

Amy glanced at the story. Dead woman in hotel room. She smiled up at her colleague.

"Nah, you take it, Chris. Got my hands full."

Chris nodded and took the paper with him to his desk. Amy turned back to her typewriter. She frowned at the page in front of her, trying to decide the amount of detail she needed to put in there. The team's methods made good copy, but on the other hand, they didn't want every bad guy in the country knowing how they did their thing. She could gloss over a few of the details perhaps. Hannibal had given her the evil eye more than once now for giving away too much. She had to be careful. She didn't want them to stop taking her along with them altogether.

Her phone rang and she reached for it without looking.

"News desk."

"Amy, it's Hannibal. Listen up, kid, I don't have much time. We're in some trouble and you need to know about it before it breaks."

"Hannibal," she spoke quietly, so none of her colleagues could hear. "You guys have been in trouble since 1973."

"Well this is some new trouble. Bigger trouble."

"Bigger?" She went serious then. "I'm listening."

"Okay, Face woke up in a hotel room this morning with a dead woman."

Amy gasped and almost dropped the phone. "Hang on", she said, jumped up, ran to Chris's desk and grabbed the teletype printout from it, making him yell in protest.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?"

Amy ignored him and ran back to her own desk and phone. She snatched the handset back up.

"Was it the Regency Hotel?"

"Yeah."

"The story just came in over the wire. The police haven't named the victim or any suspects though."

"Her name is Celia Hart," Hannibal said. "Well, that might be a stage name," he added.

"Hannibal, what happened?" Amy asked, still trying to keep her voice low. Chris got up from his desk and walked towards her, frowning. She scowled at him to try to scare him off, but he wasn't daunted. "Is..." She paused looking up at Chris who stood over her, arms folded. "Is he okay? Can I meet you somewhere? "

"No. Look, not only will the cops be after us soon, but it could be that whoever did this is only just started trying to get at us. This could just be the start of a war. We're not safe to be around right now."

"But --"

"No buts, kid. If you're smart, you'll keep your distance from us for a while. Don't worry, we'll find out who's behind it. Now I have to go."

He hung up. Amy slowly put the phone handset down on its cradle. What the hell could have happened? How could someone kill a woman with Face right there in the room?

"I thought you didn't want that story?"

She looked up at Chris, still scowling down at her. Since she had a year's seniority on him, decided to use it.

"I changed my mind."

"I already started writing it up."

"Sorry."

"I'm gonna go to Marge," Chris said, referring to the chief news editor. "Tell her I had the story first."

"Okay. I think she's in with Eldridge right now. I have to go out."

"But --"

"See you later." She grabbed her purse and almost ran from the room.

Where exactly am I going, she thought, as she headed for the parking lot. Part of her wanted to head over to the VA, to see if Murdock knew anything yet. But part of her wanted to head straight over to the Regency Hotel to pursue the story. She reached the bottom of the stairs, and stopped suddenly.

Wait a second, she thought. Shouldn't I be going not to the VA and not to the hotel, but to the police? Wasn't it her duty as a citizen to pass on the information Hannibal just gave her? She might be sure of Face's innocence, but when did it become her job to decide that?

Of course, she'd long had information that would have been useful to the Army in their pursuit of the team, and had never disclosed it. But that was different. Now a woman was dead and Amy knew of, well, at the very least, a material witness.

No, she thought. I'm a reporter. She started walking again. I have a right to protect my sources. And, okay, the guys are my friends, but technically, they're sources. I have every right to protect them.

+-+-+

"Ready?"

Face nodded, then looked away and winced, as Hannibal slid the needle into the crook of his elbow. In a moment, the hypodermic filled with blood. Carefully, Hannibal withdrew it and placed a cotton ball over the tiny wound as a drop of blood welled up.

"Press on that."

Face did so, bent his elbow, while Hannibal recapped the needle and put it into a plastic bag.

"Okay, you two are going to stay here." Hannibal waved a hand at the dingy motel room. "Get some food. And Face, try to get some rest. If I'm right that you were drugged, then you need to sleep it off. Drink plenty of water too. I'll take this to my contact." He held up the bag, looking at BA. "I'll only be a couple of hours, but move if you have to, and leave a message in one of the usual places."

"Okay, man."

Hannibal looked at Face, who looked paler than ever in the dim light. He wished he had the words to reassure him.

"Get some rest." Hannibal repeated and walked out.

+-+-+

It's real, Murdock thought, as he watched the evening news report about a young woman found dead at the Regency Hotel in Hollywood. Celia Hart, aged twenty-five, a 'model and actress' whose real name was Claire Hartley, according to the news report.

"The police have named no suspects at this time. Now, here's Jim with the sports news."

"Thanks, Alex. Well the Lakers had a good --" Murdock silenced the TV with a jab at the off switch. The room dimmed as the television went off. No other lights were on.

No suspects. Okay, well that was good news. Maybe they wouldn't find any suspects. Maybe Celia Hartley's death would remain a mystery.

And maybe the cops just weren't telling about their suspects. Maybe they had Face's name already, had every cop in the city looking for him.

Murdock threw himself down on his bed, face buried in the crook of his elbow, hating this, hating that Face had to go through this.

But unable to keep still for more than a moment, Murdock rolled off the bed and walked to the window. The sun had almost set now. Lights twinkled all over the city.

Murdock hated this some more. Hated his own situation now too, not just Face's. He hated being in this room, this hospital. He wanted to be out there, helping the team and he wanted - needed - to be there for Face. This had to be killing him. It was killing Murdock, not being able to talk to him, to find out more, to help him.

He glared at the phone. Hannibal had said he'd get Face to ring Murdock "later", but that would be dangerous too. And a phone conversation just wasn't enough.

"Murdock?" A nurse tapped at the door and glanced in. "Aren't you going for dinner?"

A phone conversation might not be enough, but still, Murdock didn't want to miss it. He shook his head at the nurse, not even feeling up to making up some crazy reason.

"You want me to have them bring up a tray for you?"

"Okay." He should eat, he figured. Didn't feel much like it, but he should eat. When she left he looked back out of the window. The sky had gone deep dark blue now. A few stars were coming out.

How much cash have I got around here, Murdock wondered. I'll need some. I'll need some change for the phone. Earlier he'd asked Hannibal to break him out, but that had been an unthinking reflex. He allowed himself a tiny smile.

The guys think they have to break me out.

They underestimate me.