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Stockwell’s office was a little bland. A wooden desk, bookshelves of leather-bound legal volumes that all looked the same. A small cactus in a white pot. It looked like like a set, no personality. Apt, Face thought, as he sat down, wary gaze pinned on Stockwell.
Stockwell himself seemed unusually relaxed. Still in the same ordinary black suit, same tinted glasses, and, sitting in his set-dressed office, it looked more like a costume than ever. He was the platonic ideal of the intelligence man, nondescript, unassuming. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. He smiled slightly as Face settled into the leather chair opposite.
“Good morning,” Stockwell said, glancing up at the clock above the door, “what’s left of it.”
“What do you want?” Face replied flatly.
Stockwell ran his tongue over his teeth, “Since you asked, I want your cooperation. I hear you almost left us.”
Face said nothing.
“I understand. You’ve had the most difficulty adjusting to this, uh, situation,” Stockwell said. He sounded almost casual, “I hoped the promise of a pardon would be enough of a carrot-”
“And now it’s time for the stick?” Face asked sharply.
Stockwell smiled, “Not at all.”
Face wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen Stockwell smile before, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.
“A stick only produces broken, compliant men.” Stockwell said, “I don’t want compliance. I certainly don’t want broken. I want the A-Team.”
Face frowned.
“Why do you think I went to all the trouble of having you released?” Stockwell said, “If I wanted good little agents doing what they were told, I could’ve found literally anyone else.” He studied Face for a moment, “now you’re wondering if that’s why I ‘engineered’ your execution, aren’t you? The short answer is, I didn’t. Not that you’ll believe that.”
“I’m not sure,” Face admitted. He didn’t have a high opinion of Stockwell, but was beginning to think he might actually be on their side, sometimes. “Maybe I do.”
“Hm.” Stockwell looked strangely pleased, “maybe this will work out after all.”
“So what am I doing here?” Face asked, keen to get to the point and get out of there. Stockwell at rest was a no better companion than Stockwell at work.
“In general or…?” Stockwell replied wryly. He didn’t wait for an answer. “You’re here because I need your cooperation, like I said. Clearly you need more incentive,” He spread his hands, “I’m willing to offer it.”
“You want to offer me… more.” Face said incredulously.
“Is that so hard to believe?” Stockwell said, “Of course, this isn’t an invitation to slack off to get more rewards,” He added lightly.
It was almost a little too much to handle. Face’s frown deepened. “What exactly are you offering?”
“What do you want?” Stockwell asked. “We have deep pockets and extensive contacts.” He shrugged, “have you considered what you’ll do after your exoneration?”
Face paused, “Do?”
“You’re still a young man, smart, but your options are limited. No higher education, no financial history, no employment history… oh of course you could ‘create’ that, but then you’d always be in danger of being caught. You’d be right back where you started.” Stockwell shrugged, “I can help. I can open doors for you that were previously welded shut.”
Face had thought about it, and thought about it often. Even if they carried on with the mercenary thing, Hannibal wasn’t getting younger, none of them were. He didn’t know if BA would even want to carry on once he had more legitimate options. Stockwell was right in that the majority of Face’s adult life he’d been on the run, and once that was over?
“You want an ivy league degree? I can get you on the program, full scholarship. Lots of people are going back to collage these days,” Stockwell continued. “You want a job on Wall Street? I know people. You’d go a long way in intelligence.” He added with a smirk. “Of course, the options are not unlimited, I can’t give you a million dollars and a private island, but I could put you well on the way to earning that first million on your own.”
Face glanced away, then back, “Why us? Why do you need the A-Team so badly? Just for a bunch of nothing missions anyone could do-”
“I need you for one mission.” Stockwell cut in, “Just one. And I don’t believe just anyone could do it.”
Face was brought up short. He frowned again, “What?”
“As for the other missions, did you think I’d be doing all the work?” Stockwell said, “I would have thought you of all people know that you don’t get anything for free. We do a favour here and there, make some people grateful, prove you’re worth the trouble to others, you know how it works.”
“You’re planning something,” Face concluded, “And we’re the pawns.”
“Pawns are expendable,” Stockwell said. “I need the A-Team.”
Face’s eyes widened in surprise, “Why?”
“Believe it or not, nothing would please me more than to show you the whole picture. It is, even if I do say so myself, beautiful, and I think you’d be one of the few people who’d truly appreciate it. I can’t risk it,” Stockwell sighed, “Not now.”
Face’s head was spinning. This was some new side Stockwell was showing him, deliberately, no doubt. He was being allowed a peek behind the curtain because Stockwell knew it was the perfect bait, and still Face took it. The fact was Face loved a plan as much as Hannibal did. Was that why Hannibal was so content to do what Stockwell said? Had he known this all along? Probably not, but he must have suspected.
“We have a mutual enemy,” Stockwell explained, “That’s as much as I can tell you. You see,” He smiled coldly, “The A-Team’s pardons aren’t just a nice bonus for a job well done. It is the icing on a particularly exquisite cake. One I have been baking for a very long time,” He lent forward on his desk, still smiling, “And that means I’m willing to take special measures to see it to fruition.”
“Like sending me to Harvard,” Face said.
“If that’s what you want.”
“This 'mutual enemy', are they the ones that got us against the wall?” If they exist at all, Face thought.
“It does seem like someone wants you out of the picture, and a little desperately, doesn’t it?” Stockwell said. “I have to admit, it was… rather satisfying when their hail Mary ended up putting the ball in my court.”
“How many more missions?” Face asked.
“I can’t say exactly, but not too many. This whole business has already gone on too long.”
Face thought for a moment, “What did he do to you?”
“Now, that is a story that isn’t up for trade,” Stockwell said, “Sorry.”
Face relaxed back into his seat, shaking his head. “Why didn’t you just tell us this to start with?”
“Simple, I didn’t trust you.”
Face stared at him.
“I couldn’t know where your loyalties truly lay,” Stockwell said, “but now I think you’ve earned a little transparency.” He shrugged, then attempted to be conciliatory, “I know you feel trapped, but sometimes you have to put your cat into a cage to get them to the veterinarian, even if they scratch up your arms.”
“You can’t talk to a cat.”
“And if I’d have told you it was for a greater good, would you have believed me?” Stockwell said, “you don’t even believe me now.”
“So I’m supposed to think you’re doing this for us out of the goodness of your heart?”
“Not at all.” Stockwell said, “because I’m not. It benefits me, and by coincidence it benefits you, but you have to admit, I’ve provided a very comfortable cage.”
Face supposed he was right, but he wasn’t going to say it.
“I need the A-Team,” Stockwell repeated. “So I’m offering you a unique opportunity. You get to look at your future and decide what it will look like. You get to choose where you end up when you get out of the cage.”
Face hesitated, “And the others?”
“Talk to them, I’m open to negotiation if it keeps you in the game.”
Face regarded him for a long moment, “What about Frankie?”
“What about Frankie?”
“Why’d you bring him in? If you only need the A-Team?”
Stockwell grinned, a shark-like, full of teeth grin that made Face distinctly uncomfortable.
“I never said I only needed the A-Team, but let’s just say if you’re the icing, Frankie is the cherry on top,” Stockwell said, “and believe me, when the time comes, it will be delicious.”