"Pete Thornton."
MacGyver swallowed hard. "Pete, it's Mac…"
There was obvious relief in Thornton's voice as he answered. "Thank heavens! I was getting worried something had gone wrong already."
Mac thought about it.
For him, it was all very wrong – having to touch guns, let alone fire them was against every fiber of his being – and yet for Pete, to save lives, he had reluctantly agreed to do it.
His mind washed back to the events that had started it all, and he wished he could wipe them away like a sticky stain on a kitchen work surface.
...
Four weeks earlier…
MacGyver breezed into the Phoenix offices with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. He'd spent the weekend at Sam's place messing with cameras and exposures, helping his son get a whole new outlook on what he could actually do with his talents as a photographer.
Not that Sam was any fool with a camera – he was more than good – but MacGyver always had a few tips and tricks to share when it came down to anything with chemicals involved.
The troubleshooter's grin broadened in pride as he thought about his son. He's gonna win a prize some day.
"Mr. MacGyver? Mr. Thornton will see you now."
Mac was broken from his reflection by an unfamiliar voice, and he looked up to see a stranger sitting in the seat of Pete's secretary. Nobody who knew Mac ever called him Mr. MacGyver.
The brunette appeared to sense part of what he was thinking and blushed. "I'm just covering for holidays," she seemed to apologize.
MacGyver smiled again and sauntered into Pete's office, only to find his old friend already had company.
Colonel Scott Woodward was taking up one of the huge leather seats in front of Pete's desk, and he wasn't looking very happy.
Not that he ever came across as that jovial a man at the best of times.
Mac had encountered him one before on an assignment to check out security at the Strategic Research and Development Administration, or STRADA, as they preferred to be called.
Woodward hadn't exactly been the greatest host on that occasion, but he had history with Pete, so Mac went along.
For the officer to be here now, something must be wrong he couldn't handle, and for Woodward to admit that, it had to be something bad.
"Mac, you made it." Pete offered a thin smile and gestured for MacGyver to take the remaining empty seat, even though he couldn't see him. "You remember Colonel Woodward?"
Mac dropped onto the chair and nodded to the officer. "I don't think I'll ever forget STRADA," he admitted, thinking of the rogue computer that had tried to kill him. "Please don't tell me they gave Sandy back any kind of control?"
Pete shook his head. "No…that's not why Scott is here. I'm afraid we have an all-too human problem this time."
Woodward set his cap on Pete's desk and turned to MacGyver. He looked annoyed, but whether that was because of whatever situation was going down, or because he needed to ask for outside assistance was anyone's guess.
"At the moment, I'm not part of the STRADA project anymore." Woodward began to explain his position. "More pressing matters have come to my attention and they're not something I can ignore. Over the last few months, several shipments of ordinance have gone missing. We're talking about millions of dollars worth of rifles, ammunition and so on."
MacGyver shifted uncomfortably on his seat. The mention of guns made him uneasy. Especially since Pete had called him in about this. "Isn't that a job for the military police?" He asked, raising a brow.
The colonel sighed. "Normally, yes, but they've already supposed to have looked into this twice, and trust me, the investigation always seems to get squashed from high places."
"We think there might be a corrupt officer involved," Pete joined in. "From what Scott and I have already discovered, one General Brad Follett seems to behind the cover ups. I'd say that probably puts him as our prime suspect for the actual robberies too."
MacGyver sat forwards and eyed Woodward warily. For once, he couldn't figure where the conversation was going, or why he might be needed. "Can't you just take all this to someone above Follett?"
Woodward shook his head, rose from his chair and began pacing, hands behind his back. "If only it were that easy, but we have no hard evidence, and Follett is highly respected. Our only lead is a connection he has with two brothers – the Bodens. The Bodens are known gun traffickers and they'd have the right contacts to broker Follett a deal on such large shipments of arms. But again, we need proof its all happening."
"And that's where you come in, Mac," Pete said, almost apologetically. "We need someone to infiltrate the Bodens and find out what they're up to. Someone who can get us the evidence we need to convict them all, and find those weapons before they hit the streets."
MacGyver scowled. Of all the assignments they could ask him to do, this was a real doozy.
"For those kinds of people to accept me into their circle and trust me, they'd expect me to carry a gun, be like them. You know how I feel about that, Pete." Mac's eyes narrowed and he bit his bottom lip.
"If you feel so strongly about guns getting into the wrong hands, then I would have thought this was right up your street," Woodward was almost sarcastic. "I can't trust any of my people, and Pete doesn't have anyone else available he thinks is good enough. Are you saying you won't do it?"
MacGyver was silent a moment. Any other assignment and he would have dived right in. But on this one, there was a good chance he'd have to not only handle guns, but use them. That thought wasn't a pleasant one.
And yet, Woodward was right too – if Mac really believed guns were a bad idea, then shouldn't he be part of the fight to stop hundreds of them getting into the wrong hands?
"Mac, these weapons could get to terrorist organizations, street gangs, organized crime syndicates. Can we really let that happen?" Pete was pleading, but his expression said he also understood his friend's reluctance. "I understand, though, if you want to refuse…"
"Let's say I'd consider it. What about my history? Everyone knows how I feel, and I doubt you'd get away with giving me a new identity."
"We've thought about that," Pete informed, handing over a pile of computer-printed files. "With one click of the keyboard, all of this information could be put out in cyberspace where it could easily be "discovered." Basically, we'd be altering your files a little, but you'd still be Angus MacGyver – just with issues."
Mac took a look at the printouts, flicking from page to page until he reached one certain section. "I'm turning loose cannon because I lost Sam and Jack Dalton?" He raised a brow, and a pained expression crossed his features as if the very suggestion was too much.
Woodward finally stopped his pacing and flopped back down. "How else could we sell it to the world that you went rogue, unless it was about your son?"
MacGyver had to admit, it made sense. But there were blank spots in the plan from where he was sitting. "So what if Sam or Jack actually get spotted in the mean time? I might be able to get Sam to lie low for a few weeks if his editor doesn't have a job for him, but no one can control Jack Dalton, you know that!"
Pete let his fingers probe the desk until they found another file. He pushed it over. "Phoenix has a job for both Jack and Sam that will put them out of the country, and out of harm's way. They'll be totally incognito."
MacGyver suddenly felt like he was being boxed into a corner. "What if they don't accept?" He swallowed, half-hoping neither man would – then he wouldn't have to face firing a gun again.
"They already have." Woodward was smiling now, as if he'd won.
"Sam will only take the job if you agree," Pete butted in quickly. "He says he'll go with whatever you choose to do. And Jack, well, he'll do anything if the price is right. You know that."
Mac took down a long calming breath. Maybe if it meant saving lives, then he could also face his demons. "So, if I get the Bodens to trust me, what exactly am I looking for?"
Both Pete and Woodward seemed to relax.
"We know the Bodens have the ordinance," Woodward intoned. "What we can't discover is where they're storing them. No evidence, no arrests. And of course, we can't stop the guns getting into the wrong hands."
MacGyver nodded. He could do this…
The memory from the office conversation began to fade in Mac's mind as he heard Pete repeatedly ask him if he was okay.
"Yeah, Pete, I'm fine. Just worried about what I might have to do next. The Bodens have had me prove myself on a firing range already. I don't like it. I have this feeling they're going to put me in a very bad position. What if they ask me to actually hurt someone?" Mac's voice gave away his fears as it cracked as he spoke.
"I know this is hard," Pete soothed. "I wouldn't have brought you in on it if there was anyone else. Just hang tight. I know you, and I know you'll always do the right thing, guns or no guns."
"Just firing at paper targets was bad enough. Accidents, deaths can happen so easily," Mac sighed. "Let's just get this over with, okay?"
"So what do they want from you?"
Mac glanced around outside the Jeep before answering. "That's the weird thing. They've signed me up as the gate man at Fairmount Studios."
Pete's tone said he was incredulous. "They what?"
"Exactly!" Mac nodded to no one in particular. "There's been no mention of weapons, at least not yet. But they're up to something. Can you check out the studios for me and any staff that might be working with the Bodens?"
"Will do," Pete affirmed. "And MacGyver? Hang in there, and be careful."
MacGyver's lips creased into a wan smile. "Trust me, I intend to."
...
Fairmount Studios
Hollywood
California
MacGyver had turned up at the studios exactly as he'd been told, and had quickly been directed to the head of security's' office. The man, named Paul Gilmore, was short and plump with rosy cheeks that made him look like a gnome from a rather unpleasant fairy tale.
Mac chose to keep that fact to himself as he sat in front of Gilmore waiting for instructions.
Gilmore eyed him with disdain. "You ever heard of a haircut and a shave, boy?"
Mac thought about how to reply. He had no clue if Gilmore was a cohort of the Bodens, or just an unwilling accomplice. Either way, he couldn't afford to get fired at this point, but he needed to know how far he could push. "Yes sir," he replied without shying away from the question. "I just choose not to do either of them."
"Maybe not while you were unemployed, but while you work for me you'll be presentable. Make sure you get your act cleaned up." Gilmore sniffed, and then added. "If I didn't owe the Bodens a favor, you wouldn't be here at all…"
So that answers my first question!
MacGyver nodded as if he understood perfectly and suddenly found a uniform dropping into his lap. How Gilmore knew his size was a mystery, but he took it.
"This is a list of today's appointments and deliveries through the gate. If it ain't on the list, it don't get in, understood?"
Mac read through the paperwork. It was mostly writers coming in to pitch their creations, would-be actors auditioning for the latest shows, or simply trucks bringing essential goods.
One thing did stick out, however – two armored trucks from a local security firm. He tapped the sheet questioningly.
"Armored security trucks?" Mac raised a brow.
Gilmore didn't look amused at being grilled over his orders. "They're for set dressing on a new heist movie they're filming next month. Not that it has anything to do with hired goons like you!" He stood up from his desk, adjusted his belt and headed for the door. "Now will you just get into uniform and make it snappy? Oh, and send those two trucks over to Lot B, that's where the rest of the stuff for that movie is being stored until they start shooting, okay?"
"Yes sir!" MacGyver tried his best to sound condescending, and snapped Gilmore a small salute. The move earned him a scowl before the elder man vanished out of the room.
So, the Bodens have enough on this guy to make him put up with my sarcasm and not fire me…
MacGyver pondered the thought while he got into uniform in the staff locker room. Bizarrely, the uniform was a perfect fit, but after donning the cap he decided the look was most definitely not one he wanted to keep.
Mac slid the cap back off again and hoped he didn't bump into Gilmore for the rest of the day.
After three hours of complete boredom in the gate room, ushering traffic through at regular intervals, it was finally time for a lunch break. Not that he intended dining.
The armored trucks on the list had arrived around 11a.m. and MacGyver's interest had been instantly peeked. They were large vehicles made for heavy loads, not the usual trucks that collected cash from banks and shopping malls.
These puppies would have fit right on in at Fort Knox.
He'd directed them exactly as he'd been instructed, but now Mac was wondering if he should have de-toured them elsewhere so he could take a closer look for himself.
Alex Morrell, another guard at the studio who was currently watching over the set of a Stallone movie waved to MacGyver as he came off his own shift to eat. "Hey Mac, are you coming over to the catering truck to grab a bite?"
MacGyver shook his head and started out for Lot B, when a thought hit him and he turned back.
Jogging over to Morrell he smiled amiably. "I wasn't going to bother eating, but I guess I can grab a cup of tea. I take it they actually have tea..?"
Alex grinned, and Mac guessed the idea of him being a tea drinker was the source of amusement, although the tall, graying guard at his side didn't actually pass verbal judgment.
"So, how's your first day? No big shot stars come through yet barking orders and showing just how rich and spoiled they are?" Morrell paused as they reached the catering wagon and eyed what was on offer.
"Nope, no stars, just boredom," MacGyver offered truthfully. "A couple of armored trucks came in for that new heist movie they're shooting, though. Word has it, it's gonna to be a real blockbuster…" He let the sentence hang, waiting for Alex's reaction.
Morrell pushed his wire-framed glasses up his nose and both his brows rose questioningly. "Huh? I didn't even know there was a heist movie, let alone anything big budget. Are you sure you heard right?"
Mac shrugged. "What else would a movie studio want two huge security trucks for? It sure isn't for our wages."
Alex relaxed a little and chuckled as he finally decided on a hamburger.
Mac winced at the greasy, very unhealthy-looking food on offer and quickly made his excuses to leave, deciding that maybe the tea could wait until he got home.
Right now, he had two trucks to investigate, because he was pretty sure they were more to do with the Bodens gun operation than they were any Hollywood offering.
...
MacGyver found both trucks exactly where he'd expected on Lot B. They were also locked, and the keys stored away in the nearby security booth.
Luckily, this area wasn't used all that much, and the booth wasn't manned most of the time. To add to his good fortune, Mac had also been given a key that would open it, and several other secured areas on accepting the job of gate guard.
Another reason why the Bodens got me in here?
He ambled over to the office and let his eyes wander around the disused sound stage. He couldn't see any visible cameras, but it would be foolish to assume they didn't exist.
That being said, he was employed as security, so entering the booth shouldn't raise too many brows if someone was watching.
Mac slid the key into the door lock and moved quickly inside, closing the door behind him.
Keys to any vehicles on the lot were stowed in a metal cabinet on the wall. There seemingly wasn't any need for any more security, given the studio was out of bounds to most, so MacGyver was able to slide a hand inside and pull out the right set in just a couple of seconds.
He rolled them over in the palm of his hand, wondering what he was about to discover. Had the Bodens hid some of the missing guns in these trucks?
Mac moved back outside, taking in every item he passed, every box, and every crate until he reached the first security vehicle. It was painted in white – the color of innocence, but would what it carried be the taker of lives he suspected?
MacGyver opened up the rear of the truck and clambered in, closing the heavy metal door behind him to hide what he was up to.
Inside was cold, and very full, but not of what he'd expected.
Instead of crates full of ordinance, the truck was filled to its weight allowance and beyond, with gold bars.
Mac whistled and quickly pulled out his pocket knife.
Fake movie gold or..?
He half-expected to be able to scrape off gold paint to reveal lead or some similar metal, but the more he tried to dig down with the blade, the more he realized the bars were real.
MacGyver sat back and had to do a double-take. There was millions of dollars worth of bullion here, and it had to be connected to the stolen weapons. He licked his lips, and stowed his knife back in his pocket.
He needed to talk to Pete, and maybe there was a phone back at the security booth. Whether it was a secure line or not was another matter, but he'd have to risk it.
Jumping out of the truck, he jogged back to the office and quickly found a phone hanging on the far wall. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realized he could reach an outside line, and dialed Phoenix's headquarters with a lump in his throat.
The whole involvement of so many guns was making him edgy, and he didn't like it.
After two rings, Pete Thornton answered, and MacGyver didn't give him chance to open the conversation.
"Pete, its Mac. I don't have much time, but I think something big is gonna go down at the studios, and soon. I just found two armored trucks full of gold on the back lot, and I don't mean the fake movie stuff."
"You think maybe it's a payoff for the weapons?" Pete appeared to theorize, and he didn't sound happy.
"That's my guess. The question is, how are they gonna make the exchange?" MacGyver began rifling through paperwork in the office files as he spoke, making good use of the time he had.
"Well, it's probably no help, but I checked out the studio and it appears to be squeaky clean. Whatever is happening is probably down to a few rogue employees using the place as a cover." Pete's voice dropped an octave as worry tinged his timbre. "MacGyver, be careful – the guard you replaced was killed two weeks ago. It was made to look like a mugging, but I'm betting the Bodens were behind it because maybe he found something out or tried to double cross them."
Mac nodded to no one. "So he was their first patsy, and it didn't work out, so they recruited me?" He wedged the phone between his shoulder and his ear and started to read through several recent inventories. "Don't worry, Pete, I don't plan on leaving Sam on his own anytime soon." He paused looking more closely at the file in his hand. "Look, I think I've found something. I'm gonna go check it out and I'll let you know if it leads to anything."
"Okay, but just don't risk anything without backup."
Mac smiled. "I wouldn't dream of it. Although in this place I wouldn't know a real cop from an extra…" He sensed Pete's mouth open the other end of the line, but didn't give him chance to complain.
Hanging up, MacGyver once again jogged back out into the cavernous sound stage and started to search for the crates he'd just spotted on one of the inventories.
According to studio records, they'd come in right about when the stolen gun shipments had vanished, and what made them even more suspicious was that they were listed as containing "prop weapons" for another none-existent war movie.
After about ten minutes, Mac found one of the boxes listed on the paper in his hand. He reached back into his pocket, and flicking open his knife blade began to gently pry at the lid on the container. Technically, the blade wasn't big enough for the task at hand, but the troubleshooter took his time, easing at the timber until it finally came free with a creak of dry wood.
MacGyver brushed away packing material until a rifle became visible, but it wasn't the M1 carbine on the record he held for some World War Two epic, it was an M4 – a new weapon he knew wasn't even going into active service with the U.S. for a few more months.
This has to be part of the missing shipments!
And as much as he hated to admit it, Mac had to acknowledge that it was a pretty smart move to hide so many weapons on a movie back lot. Who would ever think to question them?
He took a deep breath and pushed the crate lid back down, hammering it home with the butt of a flashlight his security utility belt thankfully carried.
Great, so now what? The Bodens must be thinking of making the exchange for the guns real soon for the gold to have arrived already…and like Pete says, I'm patsy number two.
MacGyver looked around the prop items stockpiled on the lot, but he didn't need costumes, Ming vases or a talking super car.
What he did need was definitely available without leaving Fairmount; he just needed to visit a couple of other "departments" to find them.
Locking the security truck back up, he checked his watch and realized he only had ten minutes of his lunch break left.
With a sigh he launched back into a jog – where he needed to go was on the south side of the lot, and getting there and then back to the gate room was going to be tricky.
But then, if the stakes were as high as he suspected, it would definitely be worth the effort.
...
Fairmount Studios Gate
Twenty minutes later…
MacGyver was still trying to catch his breath as he made it back to the gate room. Finding what he needed had been easy enough, but getting the person overseeing that particular area of the studios to relinquish the item had been tough.
Some fast talking had ensued along with a few white lies Mac had hated telling.
"Hey, MacGyver, telephone call for you!" Alex Morrell was hanging out of the gatehouse window, and had apparently taken over Mac's position when he hadn't returned on time.
Probably a chewing out for this one later…
Mac pushed an image of an angry and red-faced Gilmore out or his mind and stepped inside the gate room, taking the phone from Alex's outstretched hand. "MacGyver," he answered carefully, unsure whether he was speaking to the good guys, or the bad.
"You're late back on your first shift…"
MacGyver instantly recognized the drawling voice of Marcus Boden, and the arms dealer didn't sound happy.
"I'm here now. What's the problem?" Mac snapped the response back with just as annoyed a tone as Boden. It was the only way to deal with these people.
Marcus chuckled, as if Mac's defensive attitude amused him. Then his voice deepened into a low whisper. "Me and my bro will be coming on over in five minutes with a couple of friends of ours. You just make sure you're the one on the gate then, and that we're all on the list to get in. Understand?"
"Understood."
Mac put the phone back in its cradle on the wall without further conversation.
This was it, the trade was going down, and he was required to get the four "dealers" inside. It was all making sense now.
He wanted desperately to call Pete and get the cavalry involved before any shooting started, but there just wasn't time.
MacGyver had to handle this one on his own, and if he had learned anything about the Bodens in the short time he'd known them, it was that they weren't the types to play fair.
There was a good chance this deal wouldn't be clean, and bullets would fly.
But then, who would think anything of a little stray gunfire on a movie studio back lot?
Alex seemed to have noticed his unease. "Something wrong?" He asked, raising his right brow in apparent concern.
"Nah, nothing important." Mac brushed off the call as best he could. He didn't want any innocent people like Morrell getting hurt or worse.
And yet his gut still lurched every time he thought about the crates of guns, and where they might go if he was unable to stop the deal.
A horn blasted from behind the barrier outside, and he realized the vehicle waiting was the beat up Ford truck belonging to the Bodens. They'd made good time.
MacGyver picked up the list Gilmore had given him earlier and walked outside pretending to check it, even though he knew the pickup wasn't on it.
After a moment, he pushed the button to raise the barrier and waved the truck inside.
Marcus pulled up outside the gatehouse and stuck his head out the side window. "Get in. I want you with us when this goes down."
Mac's eyes fleetingly glanced to the gatehouse. He couldn't just leave his post without arousing Alex's suspicions that something was indeed wrong after all. "Gimme a second, I gotta make an excuse…"
Boden waited silently as Mac jogged back to the gatehouse window. "Alex, can you cover me for a few minutes? I need to show these people where to go."
The other guard's expression said he didn't believe MacGyver, but he nodded anyway.
But will he try and follow, or call the police?
Mac hoped Alex chose neither option, or things could get bloody. He remembered the sniper rifle Marcus had been carrying back out in Arizona. Was it still in the truck?
Or worse?
He hopped onto the tailgate of the Ford and banged on the side, indicating he was ready, and the truck shot off in the direction of Lot B.
Marcus had most definitely been here before with his little gun smuggling operation. He knew the lay of the land too well.
...
The pickup slid in next to both armored trucks and Marcus killed the ignition. He hopped from behind the wheel, to be followed by his brother and two strangers.
MacGyver dropped down from the rear bed and eyed them carefully.
They were much better dressed than the Bodens, both in their mid-forties, and both packing shoulder holsters from the bulges under their leather jackets.
The apparent "boss" of the two had a graying beard and piercing blue eyes that made him almost as chilling as Marcus – almost.
"I want to examine the goods before we discuss terms…"
"Of course you do." Marcus smirked and held out a hand to a nearby crate. "And you won't be disappointed." He plucked a tire iron from under his jacket and began to pry at the wooden lip until the lid tore free.
The bearded man stepped forward and rummaged inside until his fingers met one of the rifles. He pulled it out and began to scrutinize it, stripping the weapon to check its authenticity. His companion moved to do the same with a second rifle.
MacGyver watched with morbid fascination. How could he stop four men with an arsenal at their disposal?
Mitch Boden moved furtively to Mac's side and gestured with his head that they should step behind one of the larger crates while the other men carried on their appraisal.
It was an unexpected move, but MacGyver followed the instruction, waiting until they were hidden from view before speaking. "Exactly what did you need me here for?" He asked, a hint of derision in his voice. "I got you in, what more do you want?"
A lot more, I think, he worried internally.
Mitch put a finger to his mouth and his lips curled into a mock smile. He was apparently enjoying toying with MacGyver. "Those trucks over there that you let in? They're full of gold as payment for the guns you see those guys playing with. Thing is, we ain't about to let those dudes take any weapons. Why should we, when we can keep both and do this all over again?"
Mac let his face melt into a smile, even though inside his stomach was doing cartwheels at the implications. "A double cross. Why am I not surprised?"
Mitch bobbed his head and looked over his shoulder suggestively, even though the other men weren't visible from where they stood. "Yeah, and now it's time for you to play your starring role." He pulled a Beretta from under his jacket and offered it up. "We want them both disposing off."
MacGyver backed up until he could feel another crate digging into the back of his legs. There was nowhere to run in this confined spot, and if he refused to kill the buyers, it was obvious what the next option would be.
He shook his head. "I never signed up to kill anyone…."
Mitch spun the automatic around in his hand until it was pointing at Mac. "You must have known there was a good chance after that little shooting match we put you through? After your track record, why chicken out now?"
MacGyver swallowed hard, his hands raised slightly in submission. "Because all I am to you is a patsy – someone to blame when this thing goes sour and they find the bodies. Otherwise, you'd be disposing of them yourself."
"True, but seeing as I'm the one with the gun, do you have a choice? Kill or be killed, MacGyver." Mitch flicked the safety off the gun and waved it. "What's it to be?"
Mac drew in a long breath. Even if he could kill the buyers, the Bodens next move would be to kill him. No way would they leave anyone alive who could tell tales.
No, whichever way it played, he was a dead man.
Just standing and taking a bullet without even putting up a fight wasn't an option he cared for either.
"I think I'll take the third choice!" Mac made a dive to his left, barging into a row of cardboard boxes piled at least three high.
The boxes caved under his weight, and MacGyver hoped their sudden movement would give the buyers enough warning that something was "off" so that they too could make a run for it.
Mitch responded by tugging back on the Beretta's trigger several times, his well practiced aim giving him a better than average chance of hitting a moving target.
MacGyver felt several slugs tear into the cardboard he was now entangled in and he tried desperately to get to his feet and run.
The roman costumes stored in the boxes were long and silky, making his exit all the more difficult.
He eventually tore free and rolled, hoping Mitch would give up on him as he heard the buyers begin to yelp in alarm.
But Mitch was nothing if not efficient when it came to a hunt.
MacGyver heard the rapport of another two shots, and this time, he felt them hit home in his back as he tried to flee.
The force of the slugs sent him tumbling forwards and he hit the concrete of the sound stage floor hard, his limbs splaying out like a plush toy. He tried to move, but found the pain in his spine was too much – the only thing left was to succumb to it.
Mitch Boden looked down as Mac's head slumped to one side and he smirked. If he'd had the time, he'd probably have put an extra slug in the flunky's skull for good measure, but MacGyver's little stunt had forewarned the buyers of the Bodens intentions, and Marcus was now in need of his brother's help to silence them.
Mitch kicked MacGyver's lifeless body with the toe of his boot and then turned to join Marcus in the fight. There would be time later to either strategically place, or dispose of the body.