I willed the car to go faster. MacGyver had a big head start on that address. Admittedly, he was the best one-man rescue party I'd ever seen, but even he needed backup sometimes—not that he liked to admit it. Jimmy was there, but he had a daughter and grandson to worry about, not to mention himself. As we pulled up to the address, I saw Mac's familiar brown Jeep angled outside an enormous building that covered over two blocks. The wind was eerily silent; nothing moved or breathed from the outside.
"I want that building searched top to bottom!" I said, turning to the four agents I'd brought with me.
It wasn't that I didn't trust Mac. No, MacGyver was the one person I knew I could always trust, even when he committed insanities like stealing a priceless jade dragon, nearly provoking a diplomatic catastrophe with China in the process. I still trusted him, completely, fully. He just had an aggravating tendency to run off and fly solo if it meant preventing me from ruining my career. Forget my career; MacGyver was worth more to me as a person and as a friend than my career ever was. Sometimes I wondered when he would get that through his brilliant head. Saving that brilliant head was why I had brought so many agents with me. That and it would take at least four extra hands to clear this building in any decent amount of time. They fanned out in teams of two as I headed toward the area I hoped MacGyver had passed through. It took minutes of searching before I found the first sign of him: fishing nets dropped on the ground underneath a crane.
My radio crackled as one of the teams called in, "Mr. Thornton. We found Lou's daughter and grandson. No sign of Lou or MacGyver."
"Have them taken to a safe house immediately. Get them out of here."
"Copy. They heard a gunshot from inside the building. Our guys are still in there, sir."
"Alright. I'll find Mac. You make sure they get to a safe house."
The nets were a good start, and with the family safe, my sole purpose was making sure my friend—and Jimmy—was safe. A splotch of reddish water on the pale concrete halted me. Blood. I pulled my gun. Following the blood trail, I moved slower as I entered the building. There were too many places to hide. Silence pounded against my ears as I tried not to think of whose blood I was following—desperately hoping it wasn't my friend's. The blood grew more copious, and I came across a pool of it in the middle of a pile of debris. Whoever it was had stopped here long enough to get his strength up, and in that moment I knew that this was either Jimmy's blood or MacGyver's blood. A hitman losing this much blood would have no reason to stick around; they would not have continued deeper into the building, and not with this much determination. The trail stopped, but not with a body. Not a sound had graced the building in the ten minutes I had been searching. I chanced it.
"MacGyver! MacGyver, it's Pete!" Nothing.
I gripped my gun tighter, praying that it wasn't because he…a faint clang floated through the building, and I moved cautiously in direction it had come from. The clang sounded again, this time accompanied by a voice. It wasn't MacGyver's.
"Peter Thornton?" The voice had a flint-like edge. Jimmy's voice.
"Yes." I responded as I rounded the corner.
Jimmy sat propped against a machine with a gun in his hand, the muzzle trained on me and two unconscious figures on the concrete floor. But there was another figure curled, unmoving, next to Jimmy that claimed my attention.
Automatically, I radioed to my men even as I moved toward MacGyver. As I drew closer to the two, I could see that Jimmy had a bullet through the shoulder.
"Mac?" I reached my friend, and then I saw the blood on his shirt, "Mac! MacGyver!" I shouted as I pushed down on the wound.
"My daughter…" Jimmy began.
"They're safe." I answered, immediately. "We found them."
Jimmy looked rough, but he was not planning to surrender to unconsciousness anytime soon. Mac shifted under my hands, his brown eyes found mine and a confused expression marred his features.
"Pete?" My name was slurred, but hearing his voice was a wave of relief.
"I gotcha, Mac. Just hang on, stay awake."
"…family?" the word was stuttered.
"We got them, Mac, they're safe."
He nodded, his eyes sliding over to Jimmy. That was MacGyver through and through, always looking out for others. Slowly, they traveled back to me. He must've seen the panic in my eyes.
"I'm not going anywhere, Pete."
I relaxed a little. I believed him. Mac made good on his word.
A slight smile quirked his face when he drawled, "…just bought a houseboat."