Chapter Three: Calling in Reinforcements

Two hours later, Pete Thornton sat waiting for a phone call. It was a very important call and one which he had never expected to make. Of all the people to need, this one had to be the most unlikely candidate.

"Mr. Thornton," Helen announced over the intercom. "I have Dalton Air for you on line two."

Shaking his head dolefully, Pete picked up the phone. "Dalton?"

"Speaking."

"Jack, this is Pete Thornton."

"Hey, hey Pete old buddy!" was the enthusiastic response. "How's life treating you my friend?"

"Well, that's actually why I called, Jack - something's come up. I . . . I need your help."

A dead silence followed and for a moment, Pete feared that he might have lost the connection. "Dalton? Dalton are you there?"

At last the still line came back to life. "Am I still here? Why Petey, of course I'm still here - I just fell through this new hole in my floor, that's all." The inflection on this comment could best be described as pleased excitement mixed with total surprise. "Are you sure it's me you want?"

Pete paused a moment to consider this question. Truthfully the answer would be 'no' he did not want Jack Dalton. In his personal opinion, Jack was an immature clown, turned lying grifter, who had long ago managed to corner the market on traveling disasters. Suppressing a groan, Pete tried to set these thoughts aside and focus on the matter at hand. Gritting his teeth determinedly, he at last gave an answer. "Yes, Dalton, I want you."

"I'm flattered - nay I'm honored!" Jack replied with an archaic flourish. "What can I do you for?"

"It's MacGyver, he's in trouble."

"Again? I swear that guy musta' been born with one foot on a land mine and the other on a roll of used up duct tape. Never could stay out of trouble. But have no fear - Jack Dalton is here! I'm a little rusty on daring rescue missions right now, but I'm sure it will all come rushing back. Just point me in the right direction. Where is the Mac man this time?"

"That's part of the problem. We don't know, and it's imperative that we find out."

The grim intonation of these sentences instantly sobered Jack. Obviously Mac was in no ordinary life-and-death jam.

Pete sensed this change as it came over Dalton. He could almost feel the receiver grow cold in his hand. When the pilot's voice returned to the line, all flippancy had vanished.

"What's happened?"

"A threat has been made against Mac's life. The message, if you can call it that, was sent directly to my office. Apparently he's got a stalker on his tail and doesn't even know it. I spoke with Sam earlier today and he told me they were up near Gerlach Nevada. I contacted their motel as soon as I was aware of the threat, but they'd already left."

"Do we know where they were headed?"

"Yes, Los Angeles."

A trace of happiness filtered through Jack's solemnity. "Here? Kemo-sabe is coming here?"

Thornton found himself slightly moved by the pilot's words. Despite all of his flaws, somewhere deep down, Jack really did care about MacGyver. Pete would have to try and remember that. "Yeah - they were coming out to spend Christmas. But getting back to the problem. . . I spoke with the motel clerk where they stayed, but he wasn't much help. About the only thing he could tell us was that there was one other customer who checked out at the same time as Mac. But aside from a false name and a description that is sketchy at best, he couldn't tell us much. He said it was a Caucasian male that was slightly built."

"Well, that's a big help - do you think this painfully average John Doe could be our suspect?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. The way things stand, that's about all we've got. Whether or not it's worth anything - only time will tell."

"What do you want me to do? Just name it."

"Well as of right now, I have several Phoenix teams canvassing all of the major highways between here and Gerlach. So far all of them have reported negative contact over the past few hours. Based on these results, we have to consider one of two possibilities. The first being that Mac and Sam have been avoiding the highways and are taking a more circuitous, but scenic route. Given MacGyver's propensity toward the unconventional, this option wouldn't necessarily be all that far-fetched. The second possible scenario is one I don't even want to consider - namely that the hit might have already taken place." Thornton took a deep breath and tried to get a firm handle on his emotions. Talking about these things in such a detached professional manner was beginning to wear him down. Summoning the hard-nose bureaucrat that lived deep within, however, Pete was at last able to resume his narrative. "Right now we're working to try and cover both of these theories, but inadequate manpower is getting to us. We've got people checking the hospitals, the morgues, and all the major highways. Our weakness is the back roads. It is going to be impossible for our ground teams to check all potential routes between here and the Black Rock Desert. That's where you come in."

"Air to ground search?"

"Exactly. Phoenix has three helicopters in the Nevada territory, all of which are currently in the air and involved in a grid search. So far they haven't found a thing and the way things are shaping up I don't think they will either. Now don't get me wrong, our pilots are good men, too good in fact. That's our problem. They're following strict policy and procedure on this one, and that's just not going to cut it. MacGyver is not your average missing person. To find him we're going to have to abandon the textbook and try a different approach. I need a man up there who can think like Mac, someone who understands how his mind works. Someone knowledgeable enough to sift through all of the incoming data and coordinate the search effort - MacGyver style. You're that man Jack."

"I'm all yours Pete, just tell me where to go."

"Excellent! I contacted a few friends in the Air Force and managed to get you a seat on one of their air crafts. There's an F-15 Eagle taking off from Los Angeles AFB at twelve hundred hours. It's a training class 'D' craft so there will be a seat for you directly behind the pilot. Their destination is Malmstrom Montana, but they've agreed to take you as far as the Mina air strip in Nevada. From there, you make contact with our local Phoenix operatives who will drive you to the command post. You'll be supplied with a Phoenix pack radio as soon as you arrive at L.A. AFB. It will be tuned to our private frequency. This will enable me to keep you abreast of any new intel received while you're in the air."

"Perfect. I'm on my way," Jack declared. He started to hang up the phone, but found himself struck by a vague sensation that Pete wasn't quite through. Patiently he remained on the line. When the other party's hesitation continued, Dalton decided a nudge was in order - after all, he had a flight to catch. "Anything else, big guy?"

A flash of irritation at being referred to as 'big guy' almost made Thornton rethink his unspoken sentence. Buffaloing this ire, though, Pete finally managed to utter these hard words: "Uh . . . just one thing. Thanks Jack."

The pilot's mustache peaked at its corners. "You got it, Pete. And, hey don't worry. I'll find our wandering boys - just you wait and see!"

XXXXXXX

As the noon hour approached, father and son found themselves in a small diner. They were seated in a somewhat cramped booth that was graced by a large picture window. The view was not particularly entrancing, but MacGyver found that it held his interest. In fact he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. Admittedly, this was due to what he could not see, as opposed to what he could. The missing element was their blue van companion. Despite Sam's best effort the vehicle had still managed to remain close by throughout the past three hours. Granted it had dropped out of sight a few times, but these occasions had been quite brief. Inevitably the Ford had resurfaced and within minutes or even seconds of its disappearance. Given their round-a-bout travel pattern, this constant reappearing act was becoming even more suspicious. Likewise, MacGyver's instincts were growing even more insistent. In fact, at this particular moment, said instincts were beginning their most vigorous attack yet. It had been over half an hour since Mac had last seen the E150 and the long absence bothered him.

In my former profession, I managed to get into a lot of unusual situations. Some of them weren't all that pleasant - or legal. Thinking back, it surprises me how many times I've found myself severely bending the law in order to accomplish a mission. Breaking and entering is probably my biggest offense. I do try to limit the breaking part as much as possible, but as for the entering . . . well let's just say that I've gone into more places uninvited than most burglars I know. Of course this habit of mine does have its drawbacks . . . threat of prison for example. Now necessity being the mother that she is, has taught me a few inventive tips to avoid just such a pitfall. The most vital of which is to not get caught. Simple, right? The second most important, is to always know where your unfriendlies are. After all, if you lose track of someone, you may open yourself up for a very unpleasant surprise.

As of right now, I have lost track of a potential unfriendly. I've lost this particular one before, but never for this long. I'm afraid this could mean that very unpleasant surprise is right around the corner.

With a self-absorbed frown, Mac sighed and turned away from the window. Lacking anything better to do, he scanned the room searching for their waitress. Her service, thus far had been adequate, but a little short on speed. Based on the time it had taken her deliver their drinks, lunch could be quite a while in coming. To Mac's annoyance he found that the waitress, like the van, had temporarily dematerialized.

Great . . . no van. . . no waitress. Just plenty of nerves and hunger.

Mac rumbled along these mental lines as he picked up a loose straw wrapper. Exacting his irritation on the item, he began knotting and re-knotting the paper.

Sam watched his father's idle antics with curiosity. Though hardly objectionable, they did strike him as rather unusual. MacGyver was known for his easy-going manner and to see him at all agitated was indeed out of the ordinary. Unsure of whether he should pry, Sam maintained his silence. When the last knot was tied in the paper wrapper, however, he could no longer resist.

"Dad?" he ventured.

"Yeah?"

Sam noted the absent, faraway tone in his father's voice. Something was definitely on his mind. "Are you okay?"

"Sure, why?"

"I don't know. You seem kinda' preoccupied that's all."

Mac shrugged, giving a dismissive shake of the head.

"What is it, Dad? What's on your mind?"

"I've lost track of an unfriendly," he muttered mostly to himself.

"What?"

MacGyver raised his eyes to meet those of his son. "I'm sorry, Sam. I just . . ." the voice trailed off and the eyes fell again.

"Just what?" Sam pressed.

Mac's brow furrowed and he seemed to be searching for the right words. "I just have a bad feeling. Like something's gone wrong or that it's about to."

Sam considered this for a moment. He had great respect for his father's instincts - especially when it came to predicting bad situations. "What do you think it is?"

MacGyver met Sam's gaze once more. He read the look of concern etching itself along the young man's face and instantly regretted saying anything.

I shouldn't have told him. It's practically a baseless suspicion anyway. Long on circumstantial evidence and short on proof. For all I know this ache in my gut, could just be that old Christmas time guilt coming back. Guilt and maybe a little fear . . . fear that it could happen again. Fear that I could lose someone else . . .

Mac refused to let his mind finish the thought. Breaking eye contact with Sam, he gave another dismissive shake of the head. A shrug soon followed, as he attempted to alleviate his son's worries. "It's probably nothing. Nerves maybe. A little over anxious about seeing Pete, I guess." Giving his now tightly wadded straw wrapper a flick, Mac smiled and leaned back in the booth.

Sam relaxed his frown lines, but maintained a thoughtful expression.

His mind was mulling over their morning's ride. Almost automatically, he fell to considering the blue van. They had not discussed the vehicle's peculiar behavior, but Sam felt sure his father must have noticed.

Lost track of an unfriendly, eh? Gotta' be that Ford E150. It's certainly got me on edge. Every time I see the blasted thing coming I wanna' run screaming into the night and never come back.

As Sam considered this possibility, their wandering waitress appeared bringing a tray full of food. After properly dispensing the various culinary items, she once again vanished from sight.

"Very strange girl," Mac observed as he began to investigate his veggie burger.

"You think she's odd, what about you? Talk about weird, that thing you're about to eat has one slice of tomato and three unidentifiable green substances which have been mashed beyond recognition. If that's not odd I don't know what is." Sam gave his Dad's meal another glance and then added "Eh-yuck!" to his commentary just for good measure. An appropriate look of disgust accented this opinion and was accompanied by a theatrical shudder.

Mac made a face eyeing his son's 'all-the-way' lunch. "Well its better than that monster of yours. Looks like you've got everything on there, but the kitchen sink."

"Yeah - isn't it great?" With a grin, Sam noted the expression crossing Mac's face. "I know. . ."

"Eh-yuck!" Father and son leaned in as they completed this sentiment together.

"Wanna' try a bite?" Mac questioned challengingly.

"You gonna' try mine?"

MacGyver deliberated a moment. "What the heck - I've lived a good life."

Sam laughed at the over-dramatized remark and held out his burger. Mac accepted, taking a generous bite. He chewed and swallowed the morsel with what Sam judged to be a minimal display of unhappiness.

"Well?"

Mac smiled blandly. "I have just assaulted my stomach, thank you very much. It hasn't seen that much un-food in ages."

In response to this, Sam dropped his jaw and raised an eyebrow. "Un-food indeed!" he intoned with a rich blue-blood accent.

Taking the cue, Mac jiggled his head aloofly and offered a superior look. "Quite 'un.'"

Another facial contortion indicating shock crossed Sam's visage as he swiftly repossessed his lunch. "Some people just have no appreciation for the finer things of life."

Mac made a face, indicating plainly what he thought of 'the finer things of life' before moving on to the next order of business. Brandishing a 'gotcha' look he pushed his plate towards Sam. "Now it's your turn."

"Aw, man . . ."

"Deal's a deal," Mac cautioned and inched his offering closer.

With a cringe, Sam reached down and picked up the veggie burger. Holding the item as if it were a vial of some communicable disease, he then braced himself for the bite ahead. Mac watched with amusement as his son sighed, closed his eyes and ferociously clamped his mouth around a portion of the burger. To his delight, Sam's tight grimace soon faded and was replaced by a look of surprise.

"You know, that's not half bad," he announced. "If only . . ."

"What?"

"If only it wasn't so - so green."

Screwing up one corner of his mouth, Mac developed an 'oh for goodness sake' expression and reclaimed his lunch. "Don't listen to him," he murmured addressing the burger.

"Dad, sometimes you worry me," Sam laughed.

"And you me - but hey, that's what families are for."

XXXXXXX

As the minutes slowly passed, Pete found himself growing more and more uneasy. In matters such as this, time was crucial. The only point currently in their favor, was that Mac's stalker apparently enjoyed playing games. This asset, however, could prove to be short lived. Based on the photograph, MacGyver would most assuredly be dead whenever the assassin chose.

Rubbing one hand over his balding head, Pete heaved a sigh. "If only Mac would call!"

It was a hasty knock, not a telephone ring, though, that interrupted his brooding.

"Come in."

"Pete, I just heard," Nikki announced. The tone of her voice betrayed deep concern. "What do we know so far?"

"Nikki, I'm glad you're here," Pete returned by way of hello. He then fell to explaining the situation. Several minutes later, he had wrapped up the dark story and sat waiting for her to respond.

"Is there any chance this could just be a hoax of some kind?"

"Well, there's always that possibility, but given Mac's track record of enemies, I wouldn't want to bet on it."

Nikki nodded her grim agreement and then pressed on to her next question. "So, working on the assumption that this is legit, are there any clues as to the identity of the stalker?"

"As far as evidence goes, we have nothing. The man's description provided by the motel clerk could fit just about anybody and we have no intel on a possible vehicle." Pete took a moment to catch his breath before continuing. "Personally though, I do have a theory."

Nikki waited with rapped attention. "Yes?"

Thornton acknowledged the slight impatience of his colleague, but remained solemn and reticent. Obviously the option he had come upon was not a pleasant one.

"Come on, Pete. Not talking about it, is not going to make this go away. If you've come up with a viable suspect, tell me."

Exhaling a deep, suppressed breath, Thornton nodded. "Okay, here it is - I think Murdoc is a prime candidate."

"Murdoc!" Carpenter rasped in disbelief and horror.

Noting her skepticism, Pete began reviewing his line of reasoning. "I know it's hard to believe, but just think about it for a moment. Who ever is behind this, knows of Mac's connection to both the Phoenix Foundation and to me personally. Since he's been retired for over nine months now, only someone from his past would even bother to make that connection. Also consider that as things stand right now, Mac poses no real threat to anyone . . . he's not been bucking any of the evil powers that be or meddling in some country's covert operations. He has helped Sam out with some pretty heavy expose work, but even then he's managed to maintain a very low profile. This leaves us with only one possible motive: revenge."

"Okay, so the motive's revenge, but MacGyver's list of enemies has got to be one of the longest on record. . . What makes you think this has to be Murdoc?"

"Well, this ridiculous cat and mouse game, for one. It is just the sort of perverted 'fun' that Murdoc would enjoy. Not to mention that toying with Mac seems to have become his favorite past time . . . and the pictures! The way they were enlarged and altered was uncanny - whoever sent them has a working knowledge of my eyesight. Most people see these glasses or the white cane and think I'm already completely blind - only someone who knew me personally could know that I can still see some images. Murdoc would have that knowledge. The rest of Mac's enemies have either been in prison too long to know about my condition or they haven't been free long enough to find out. But even putting that bit of deduction aside, you are still left with the fact that photographing victims is Murdoc's trademark - his signature if you will - and it's something that no one else has ever done."

Nikki's brow furrowed deeply. Her strong desire to reject any notion that had to do with Murdoc (the forever dying assassin) slowly collapsed as she evaluated the available facts. "You're right, Pete," was her eventual response. "If this isn't Murdoc, we've certainly found ourselves a good imitation."

Before Pete could formulate a reply, his intercom sprang to life.

"Mr. Thornton, Willis from the lab is here to see you."

"Send him right in," Pete instructed.

A moment later, the small scientist appeared. In his hand he held a clipboard swarming with pages of notations.

"Willis, you remember Nikki Carpenter?"

"Oh, yes. Mac ducked into my lab quite a few times because of you," he remarked with a smile. "Used to say he was just trying to keep his matches away from your gasoline."

Nikki blushed slightly. "I often wondered why I always seemed to lose him down in that labyrinth of laboratories. Now I guess I know. Of course you are aware that he only disappeared when I was winning an argument."

Willis' grin broadened, but he did not offer a rejoinder. Pete seized this lull in the banter to redirect the man's attention.

"So, what were you able to find out?"

Without missing a beat, Willis launched into a recital of his findings. "Probably the most pertinent item would be that these are no ordinary photographs. In point of fact, they're not even true photographs. Every one is a copy or more precisely a faxed printout of the original. We found date-time stamps in all the upper left hand corners which support this conclusion as well as copy identification digits printed on the opposite side."

"What information do have about the machines that sent and received these pictures? Do we have a number for either of them?" Pete questioned.

"Unfortunately, I can't give you any information on the machine which did the sending. As for the one that did the receiving, I can tell you everything from the type of ink it uses to the last time it's print heads were cleaned - but I can't tell you the number. Unlike some models, this particular one doesn't record that data on the faxed items."

"So where does this get us?"

Pete opened his mouth to answer Nikki's query, but was cut short by Helen's urgent cry.

"Mr. Thornton!"

With no further ado, the secretary then breezed through the office door. "Sir, these were just sent up from the sixth floor. One of their fax machines apparently received them during lunch hour." Helen held out a stack of five or more papers. "The top one is a picture of MacGyver. I . . . I didn't look at the rest - I hope its not bad news." Hearing herself speak these words, Helen was struck by their inadequacy. Nothing was going to change the images she held. Either Mac was still alive or he wasn't. For all the good it had done, she might as well have tried to bail out a sinking ship with a thimble.

Pete could almost feel his secretary's thought. Too many times he had been overcome by the same sensation - the sensation of helplessness. Right now was one of those times.

"Let's take a look, shall we?" Willis prompted, forcing much more optimism than he felt.

Thornton inhaled sharply. "Yeah, let's see what we've got." As before, the first few pictures were nice shots, nothing amiss. The last one, though, again had cross hairs imposed over MacGyver's face.

"Well, he's still alive. That's something, at least," Willis offered hopefully.

"Something? Mr. Thornton, that's everything!" Helen blurted out. As soon as the words escaped her lips, the secretary retreated a step. She then reddened slightly and began to chasten herself for being impertinent. Before this mental rebuke could be properly completed, Nikki spoke.

"She's right, Pete," Carpenter agreed. "As long as he's alive that means there's still a chance!"

Thornton's mouth began to tug upwards. "You know, that's just what Mac would have said."

"Oh, don't tell me that!" Nikki groaned, her mood suddenly a bit deflated.

Helen, however, took her boss's statement as a compliment and beamed with pride.

Willis gave both the secretary and Nikki a pat on the shoulder accompanied by a warm smile. "Congratulations you two- I now declare you the MacGyverettes of Phoenix."

Carpenter gave an unintelligible moan. "Willis, if you have any matches I suggest you go and hide them in your lab, right now." A sweet smile accompanied this warning along with a slow waggling fist. In response, the mild mannered scientist took one cautious step backwards.

"Well on that threat, I've got to get back to work," Helen declared before making a swift exit.

"That is an excellent suggestion," Willis announced giving the now open door a longing glance. "Pete, here's the rest of my report for you to look over. There's not much there I'm afraid, but hey, who knows - maybe you'll pick up on something I missed. I'm going to head down and check out that fax machine on the sixth floor. I might be able to get inside the system and trace the number this batch came from. I'll let you know what I find out. Nice to have seen you again Ms. Carpenter." With that and a flurry of his white smock, the scientist then vanished.

"Right - thanks," Pete called after him. When he heard the office door slid shut, Thornton returned his attention to the new lot of photographs. "Say Nikki, will you take a look at these? Your eyesight is better than mine, perhaps you can catch something that might give us a clue as to MacGyver's location."

Obediently, Carpenter moved closer. After picking a photo that offered the largest portion of background to peruse, she began pouring over its every pixel.

As Pete waited, he fell to thinking over the current situation. "You know," he mused, "I never thought I'd be glad to see Mac's face covered by cross hairs - but given the alternative, I don't think I've ever been so glad to see anything in my whole life. Funny the things you can be grateful for." As Pete reflected further on the matter, a strong sense of hope began to build. He could just hear MacGyver now . . .

"You gotta' stay positive, Pete."

Thornton smiled broadly. You bet Mac!