Chapter Two: The Threat Surfaces
MacGyver had just finished strapping down their saddlebags, when Sam emerged from the lobby. After leather jackets had been zipped, helmets secured and bikes cranked, father and son then pulled out of the parking lot. Sam led off taking point position while Mac fell in behind him. Out of habit, the troubleshooter checked his mirrors. He took note of a blue Ford E150 van which was also leaving the motel. It turned in their direction and began to accelerate. Within minutes the vehicle was baring down on MacGyver. After covering several miles while practically riding the Yamaha's exhaust pipe, the van at last pulled away initiating a pass. Mac noticed the move and was grateful. He hated close quarters driving - especially when the odds weren't in his favor. E150 versus motorcycle just didn't sound like much of a contest. As the obnoxious Ford sped past, father and son became engulfed in a cloud of dust and spraying gravel. Once the debris settled, Mac inhaled a deep refreshing breath. The clean dry air felt good. Now out in front, the ill-mannered van still decorated the road, but at least it was no longer a safety hazard - that was the important thing.
Sam, however, was not so easily satisfied. He found himself quite annoyed that despite its high rate of speed, the Ford still managed to remain within range of his optics. For some reason the sight of that hideous blue mass leading the way, irritated him beyond belief. Granted the landscape was not conducive to losing the vehicle entirely, but he wished that it could at least become more of a dot than a mass. Toward this end, Sam squeezed the brakes lowering his rate of speed.
For someone who was so anxious to get around us, that guy certainly hasn't gotten very far. He needs to step it up, having to creep along at 45 miles per hour like this just goes against the grain. Imagine me, the speed demon, driving below the legal limit! Dad must think I've lost my mind. He's probably worried, too. Parents are strange like that . . .they harp about your bad habits, but then if you ever change they get worried. I've never been able to figure that out.
While Sam mulled these observations over in his mind, Mac began doing a bit of pondering on his own. Aside from worrying that his son might be coming down with some sort of rare 'slow' disease, he also began to take note of the blue van's lack of progress. The line of thought he followed was very similar to Sam's (minus the deviation regarding parental high jinx of course) and he arrived at a rather unsettling conclusion: he was thinking like a Phoenix agent again.
I've got to stop that. So what if 'following' someone can be accomplished by passing them and remaining out in front? Just because this van is acting the part doesn't prove anything. After all, how foolish would it be for someone to try tailing us out here in the middle of a desert? This area has far to great a visibility range. No one in their right mind would pull a stunt like that . . . Of course men who break the law don't necessarily have a reputation for being long on sanity.
Ignoring this last thought and focusing on the rest of his rationale, MacGyver tried to shake his growing feeling of unrest. Intuition, though, would not leave him alone. It screamed that something was wrong and that somehow he and Sam were headed right for trouble.
XXXXXXX
Pete Thornton sat in his office chair with an air of serenity. Helen, his ever loyal secretary, stood close by reading a long list of items that required his attention. The litany of minor disasters, seemed to fall in stark contrast to his blissful mood. Obviously the man's mind was not on his work. Sensing this lack of concentration, Pete shook himself and attempted to train his mind on the latest bit of news Helen was reciting.
". . . operatives in the outlying districts are reporting highly unfavorable results on Project Lynx. The head man, Doug Netsy is requesting additional funds to continue their research, but the Phoenix Board of trustees has expressed a desire to abandon Lynx altogether. Netsy would like for you to employ your persuasive powers and possibly call in a few markers, in order to keep the project going."
There was a pause in Helen's speech. To his consternation, Pete found that his attention had, again wandered elsewhere. Knowing that the interval of silence was his cue to respond, he tried to think of an all purpose answer.
"Of course, sounds fine." Thornton delivered this reply with confidence hoping against hope that it actually fit the occasion. Helen did not offer any feedback on this answer, but she did give her boss a long sideways glance. Pete sensed the look and instinctively felt that he must have erred. Not wishing to discuss the matter, however, he refused to admit the mistake. Upping his show of confidence therefore, he prodded her for the next item. "What else do we have?"
Shrugging off this oddity, Helen obediently continued down her list. "Mr. Willis called in this morning and asked that you check into a shipment of microchips. His department was supposed to receive them two days ago and they still haven't arrived. Willis seems to think the package may have been intercepted by an underground revolutionist group that specializes in hacking. He says they have been responsible for several similar incidents with other agencies like ours."
"I'll get right on that," Pete nodded agreeably.
Helen gave Thornton another peculiar look. Though this comment had at least been in-keeping with the context, its delivery was very uncharacteristic. Where was the indignation, the upset, the fire? In order to answer this question, Helen decided upon an oblique approach. "Last night the ninth floor ceiling collapsed and three mad scientists blew up the lab."
"Well, that's not too bad . . . What?"
"Just checking to see if you were listening, sir," Helen soothed.
"Of course I'm listening," Pete muttered. The recurring sensation of being under the all-knowing gaze soon convinced him that he'd been found out. Murmuring a bit under his breath, he then offered a sheepish admission. "I heard part of it anyway."
Helen shook her head triumphantly. "Just as I thought. Do you want me to finish reading the list now or would you rather wait until later?"
"Oh, Helen I'm sorry," Pete apologized in a bemused tone. A light chuckle then came as preamble to his next comment. "I'll try to focus now, really I will."
"If you'll excuse my impertinence, sir, may I say that this isn't like you," Helen's voice betrayed her concern. "Do you feel okay? Is everything alright?"
"Alright? Everything's perfect - except for the ninth floor and the lab of course." Before the studious secretary could react to this jocular observation, Pete pressed on. "Guess who's coming for Christmas?"
Given her boss's current mood the first answer that came leaping to Helen's mind was 'Santa Claus'. Resisting this impulse, though, she tried to think of something more appropriate. "The President?"
Pete laughed. "No - even better than that. MacGyver and Sam!"
"Mac! That's wonderful."
As Pete was about to fill his secretary in on the details, a third voice floated into the office.
"My, my - do I know when to come and visit or what? Talk about a double feature. I get to see you and the retired Mr. Fix-it all in one trip!"
"Nikki? Nikki Carpenter is that you?" Pete questioned doubting his own ears.
"In person. Let me look at you Pete."
Thornton stood and worked his way around the desk.
"Oh you look wonderful," Nikki announced.
Pete didn't answer, but held open his arms. The invitation was accepted and the two friends hugged each other fondly. After a moment, Thornton pushed Nikki to arms length. Fighting through the encroaching fog he managed to steal a refreshing view. "You look lovely, what I can see of you anyway. Say, what brings you to L.A.? Don't tell me the European branch of Phoenix has discovered it can live without you?"
Nikki flashed a smile and laughed lightly. "No, nothing so permanent. I just decided that now would be a good time for a vacation."
"Director Carpenter," Pete began warningly. The rest of his admonition proved unnecessary, as Nikki held up her hands in surrender.
"Alright, so there was some business that needed doing here in the States. I volunteered to do it just so I could come see you - that makes it almost a vacation, doesn't it?"
Pete smiled proudly. "That's my girl, you haven't changed a bit."
Carpenter gave her former boss a pat on the shoulder. "It's good to see you Pete." Holding the touch for a moment, she then proceeded to other matters. "So when will I have the pleasure of seeing my favorite fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants field agent?"
Pete chuckled at her tone of indifference. "You two were always so great together," he mused sarcastically. "Like quarrelsome siblings both of you . . . and I always seemed to end up in the middle, like a referee or a frazzled father."
Nikki offered an awkward smile. In an effort to deflect some of her own embarrassment she turned the analogy back on Pete. "Well, Poppa Thornton, when do I get to see my favorite brother? Not to mention my newly discovered nephew. I'm quite interested to meet this 'young MacGyver'."
"Oh, you'll like him," Pete prophesied. "He's just like his father. So much so that I would like him to come and work for Phoenix one day. Of course part of the deal would have to be that he bring his old man along, too. Can you imagine having two MacGyvers on staff? Why it would . . ."
"Be too much!" shot in Nikki.
"It was just a thought," Pete chuckled raising an indifferent hand.
"Yes, well let's just leave it at that shall we? Now when are the double trouble twins arriving?"
"According to Sam, they should be here sometime tonight. I spoke with him early this morning and he said they were up near Gerlach Nevada."
"Gerlach? What misguided wind took them to that god forsaken place?" Nikki questioned.
"I haven't the vaguest idea, but apparently they've been there all weekend. When Sam first called me on Saturday they were at the nearby town of Empire. There must be something up there of interest."
"Yeah - desert," Nikki stated with distaste. "Of course, knowing Mac he probably took his son out for a little jaunt in the Black Rock country."
"Well, I really don't care where they've been, it's where they're headed that excites me." Pete's words fairly dripped with enthusiasm. "The only trouble is, how am I ever going to get any work done? Look at me - I'm positively giddy."
"Well if there's a way to work, I'm sure you'll find it, Pete. That's just your nature, giddy or not," Nikki replied encouragingly. "And speaking of work, I have a few things to take care of downtown." A quick check of her watch produced a cry of dismay. "Oh my gosh, I'm late already. Pete, I've got to run, but can I claim you for a lunch date at about one o'clock?"
"Helen write that down: one o'clock, lunch with Ms. Carpenter," Pete ordered briskly.
In response the secretary clicked her heels and scribbled the note onto a pad.
Nikki smiled. "Thanks Helen. Well I'm off." Giving Pete a hasty good-bye hug, she then hurried to the door. Before leaving, she indulged a brief, reminiscent pause.
Pete sensed her presence and offered a parting smile. When her hesitation still remained, he gave her a gentle verbal push. "Well don't just stand there gawking - you have work to do," he prodded with mock severity.
"Yes, sir Mr. Thornton," Nikki's voice was soft and filled with affection. "See you soon, Pete." With that she disappeared.
Once Nikki's footsteps had faded, Pete sighed. "Well back too work, such as it is . . . Helen?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Give me another shot at that list of yours. Only this time, let's not be too ambitious, huh? Hit me with them one at a time - we'll tackle these monsters in single file. What do you say?"
"Yes sir," Helen answered smartly, "And since we're going to be knocking things down one by one, I should probably give you this first. I was going to wait until we had finished reading the agenda, but with the way things are. . ." Reaching beneath a stack of files which she held well balanced in one hand, the secretary pulled out a large manilla envelope. "This came in the morning mail. It's addressed to you personally with 'confidential' emblazoned on both sides."
Pete extended a hand in the general direction of Helen's voice and waited for the object. As soon as his fingers felt the package arrive he quickly fell to work. Swiveling to the high powered magnifier that had been mounted on his desk, Thornton switched on the light. A quick examination of the envelope revealed that there was no return address and no legible postmark. Ignoring these unhelpful attributes, Pete continued to the next stage. With great care he opened one end of the package and withdrew its contents. The material proved to be a series of enlarged black and white photographs - each altered to provide peak contrast for easy visibility. A grin spread across Pete's face. "Why these are pictures of Mac . . . and Sam. Look at that hair! They must avoid barber shops like the plague." Despite the critical content of this observation, Pete's delivery was quite affectionate. "Those two, I declare . . ."
Helen frowned as her boss ceased mid-comment. A quick glance revealed that Thornton had grown very tense. His back was now tightly straight and his lighthearted manner replaced by grim determination.
"No, it can't be," he murmured.
"Sir? What's wrong?"
"Helen - get me the Comet Motel in Gerlach Nevada. It's a few miles outside of the Black Rock Desert - hurry!"
Knowing instinctively that this was no time to ask questions, Helen quickly exited to fulfill her mission. Left alone in his office, Pete considered the picture before him once more. All the other photos in the packet had seemed cheerful and innocuous, but this one . . . this one spelled trouble. It was a close up shot of MacGyver, his face beaming. Superimposed on this happy image, however, were cross hairs - sighting marks for a high-powered rifle. Pete's blood ran cold as he again looked at the target centered over his friend's forehead. Giving the desk a solid knock, he then slid over to his private telephone line. Picking up the receiver he began making some calls. Within a matter of minutes, Phoenix operatives in the Nevada area had been advised of the situation. Armed with photographs of Mac and Sam along with a physical description of their bikes, several teams began flooding the streets. Their instructions were to monitor all the main routes to L.A. and to intercept the potential victims if possible. Another team was then dispatched to check out the Comet. As these arrangements were being in-acted, Helen announced that she had the motel on line.
"Good, patch me through," Pete called. "Hello - is this the Comet Motel? . . . Yes this is Pete Thornton of the Phoenix Foundation, I'm trying to get in touch with a couple friends of mine - could you tell me if a Mr. MacGyver and a Mr. Malloy are registered there. . . That's great can you . . . Oh they already left . . . I see, how long ago was that? . . . About an hour ago? Did any other guests happen to check out at about the same time? . . . I know it's irregular, but a man's life may depend on this . . . I appreciate that, yes sir I'll wait . . ." Pete said the words, but found their application quite hard. "Wait . . ." he muttered covering up the mouth piece. "Wait."
