Chapter Fourteen: Them's The Breaks

MacGyver pulled himself up from the floorboard of the taxi. Lights were flashing behind his eyes, and the seats were covered with broken glass. He shook his head to clear it, and more shards fell out of his hair. With shaking hands, he began to check himself for damage.

He realized that the lights were not just inside his head; they were outside the cab, too. The door was yanked open and hands reached inside, followed by the round, earnest face of a man. "Hey, buddy… take it easy. We're here to help."

"I'm fine," MacGyver said, not really feeling it. "The driver – "

" – is also fine," a voice said, and Gorodisch sat up in the front seat, straightening his cap. "Thanks for worrying. Bennie, we need a little more color here…"

Bennie the paramedic nodded. "No problem. You ordered the full package. Arm, leg, or head?" he asked, gesturing to his passenger.

"Better make it the arm – he may still have some running to do." Gorodisch angled the rear view mirror toward him and began to straighten his mustache.

MacGyver opened his mouth to speak, but before he could make a sound, Bennie reached into a pocket and came out with a small bottle, uncapped it and upended it on MacGyver's sleeve.

"What – hey! Whoa!" MacGyver stared at the dripping red mess.

Gorodisch glanced back, nodding with approval. "Looks bad… but we need a break. Here," he handed Bennie a short piece of white plastic. "Shove that through his sleeve and soak it… it'll look like a compound fracture." He glanced out the window. "And hurry… the cameras are almost rolling."

"Cameras?! No way…" MacGyver protested. "I can't have my face on the news!"

"You're right." Gorodisch sighed. "Face, too, Bennie – at least until we're out of sight."

"Eyes closed, please." Bennie said, and MacGyver clenched his eyes shut as the paramedic squirted the viscous red fluid into his hair and across his forehead.

The stuff oozed everywhere. "Ugh!" MacGyver spat out some that had seeped down his face to his mouth. "Strawberry syrup?"

"Puréed strawberries and pomegranate syrup, actually," Gorodisch said as he daubed his own face with it. "The pulp makes convincing blood spatter when not too closely examined. Now, lie back and let the nice ambulance men carry your bloody carcass out of the wreckage, will you?"

MacGyver sighed and permitted Bennie to wrap a loose bandage over half his face before the paramedic and his taciturn companion pulled him out of the taxi and laid him out on a narrow stretcher.

A police car and several other vehicles blocked the bridge while the ambulance was loaded. A couple of flashbulbs heralded the presence of newspaper men. MacGyver gave a convincing performance as a semiconscious victim and Bennie helped Gorodisch in after him. The supposed driver was still mopping his blood-smeared face and complaining loudly about his damaged taxi when the ambulance doors were slammed shut behind them.

MacGyver lifted his arm and regarded the jutting plastic 'bone'. He had to admit… it did look convincing. "But, doc," he quipped as he lay back, "will I be able to play the piano?"

Gorodisch chuckled.

xoxox

Natalya opened her eyes, praying that she was having a bad dream. She was in her bed in her hotel room – but she was not dreaming. There were two hard-looking men standing by her uncle. Mikhail sat between them; he held a bloodstained towel to his face and there were darkening bruises on his jaw and eyes. A third man, tall and thin, stood beside her bed, his back toward her. He turned at the sound of her movement as she sat up unsteadily. He reached out to assist her, but she shrank back from him.

"Who are you? What are you doing in my room?" Natalya demanded. "This is an outrage and a violation!"

"We are the Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti, Miss Viskaya." The thin man spoke gently, his voice contained a threadbare hint of an apology as he added, "I am very sorry if we gave you a fright. You see, we have the authority to arrest the man who has been hiding in your hotel room. We also," he said, casually regarding the length of his fingernails, "could arrest you – for attempting to aid his defection."

"I told you!" Mikhail shouted, lunging out of his chair at the thin man. "She has nothing to do with this!" His meaty guards were taken by surprise at the suddenness of his outburst, and they grappled with him briefly before slamming him back into his seat. "Damn you, she is innocent! She knows nothing of my actions!"

"Perhaps. Perhaps." The man shrugged. "I would prefer to believe she is innocent… but I confess it is difficult. She is, after all, spending a great deal of time with a man who we suspect to be an American spy."

"What?!" Natalya climbed to her feet, faintness gone as her anger flared. "MacGyver is no spy… he is an athlete! What you suggest is preposterous!"

"Of course that is what he told you. It is not surprising that he has not confided his you, my dear. These foreign spies often use casual relationships as cover for their operations… even going so far as to seduce naïve young women such as yourself."

His eyes slid over her. Natalya turned away, her face flushed. The man laughed at her. "Poor child! She has no idea she is being used." The other men laughed with him.

Natalya covered her reddened face with her hands. "I – I don't believe you."

"Well, you can believe this: I will arrest your uncle and charge him with treason. He will be sent to the coldest, most remote gulag in Siberia for the next several years, if not the rest of his miserable life."

"No! He has done nothing wrong! He just came to – to visit me. To support me during the Trials. You can't arrest him!"

"Ah, but I can." The man tilted his head and looked at Natalya meaningfully. "Unless."

"Unless… what?" She clutched the top of her blouse closed against the filth of his gaze.

"You could prove that you are what you say you are… a loyal daughter of the Soviet."

Natalya glared at him. "I am loyal to the Soviet!"

"Of course. But this thing you might do… this very small thing… could not only prove that beyond a shadow of a doubt, but could benefit you greatly. Instead of shame, you will bring your family pride. Your career will be forwarded. Your uncle – he will not go to the gulag, but will be allowed to return to his laboratory to continue his very important work. This incident will be entirely forgiven… forgotten!"

Natalya looked at her uncle. His face was full of misery, but she could see the glimmer of hope that the thin man's words had wakened within him. She swallowed her fear and turned to the thin man.

"I don't care about myself... but I won't let you tear apart my family. What do you want me to do?"