Weapon of Opportunity
Part Nine: Back Trailing
"MacGyver! What are you doing here?" Pete demanded. He spoiled the effect of his painted-on scowl by grinning with delight at the sight of his friend.
Mac returned his grin, then swung his blackthorn cane rakishly up onto his shoulder. "I was in the neighborhood." He sauntered in with only the slightest trace of a limp and perched on the arm of one of the chairs in front of Pete's desk, twirling the cane deftly in his fingers.
Pete eyed the cane, wondering if he should start shifting breakables out of Mac's reach. "You told me you had an appointment today. So ... what's the news?"
Mac set the cane down across his knees. "It's all good. Dr. Fiske told me that my next follow-up appointment would very likely be my last. And Laurel threw me out of her PT lab. After I fixed her treadmill, of course," he added with a laugh.
"Is that all the doctor said?" Pete asked, shifting aside a large pile of reports.
"He did mention that he was glad that his other patients didn't heal as quickly as I have. He said that that would make his job very lonely." Mac tilted his head and looked at Pete closely. "So ... what's the verdict? Can I come back to work now?"
Pete frowned at Mac. "You know I can't let you go back out into the field until Dr. Fiske gives you a one-hundred-percent clean bill of health!"
"I know!" Mac countered, "but I'm going crazy sitting at home!" He nodded at the pile of work on Pete's desk. "Looks like business is booming. Sure you don't need any help?"
"Mac ..."
"There's nothing wrong with my brain, you know!"
"I know that, Mac, but ..."
"So give me something to think about! I don't have to go into the field for that! I'm begging you, Pete ... anything! I'm on the verge of becoming addicted to daytime television!"
Pete held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Okay ... all right, Mac. I'll see what I can do to keep your mind occupied. How about you let me go through today's reports and I'll call you tomorrow."
"Okay." Mac stood up slowly. "Tomorrow?"
"I'll call you."
"Promise?" Mac asked, walking backward toward the doorway.
Pete sighed. Sometimes MacGyver could behave like such a child. "I promise."
"Okay... so long as you promise. Bye, Pete." Mac disappeared around the corner.
"Bye." Pete started reading the first report on the pile.
Mac popped back around the corner. "Early. Call me early."
"Good-bye, Mac!" Pete half-shouted. Then he shook his head and laughed. It was good to have MacGyver back.
Mac walked toward the parking lot, using the cane every alternate step. He'd promised Pete and Laurel that he'd keep the thing and use it until Dr. Fiske cleared him. And he had to admit to himself, whether he wanted to or not, that he wasn't up to some things just yet.
For instance, working the clutch on his Jeep.
Mac opened the door and climbed in the passenger side. "Let's go, Davy."
David Johannes started the jeep and smoothly engaged the shift. "Home?"
Mac sighed. "Yeah. Pete won't let me come back to work today."
"Mr. Thornton is a stubborn man," David observed aloud.
"I think I'm wearing him down."
"Yes, sir," David said, skeptically. "Wearing him down ... right."
"Shut up and drive!" Mac said, laughing.
MacGyver was grateful that David Johannes had volunteered to continue his assignment as security on Mac's houseboat. If he had to be watched day and night, at least one of the men watching him was a good sport and a friend. It made the whole ordeal much easier for Mac to bear.
When he was on duty, David was nowhere to be seen, lying low and keeping a steady surveillance on the houseboat. Mac could work around the house or watch his western movies and never be disturbed. When Mac had to go out David would drive for him, taking either a Foundation pool car or one of Mac's vehicles. He was intelligent, respectful, and had a sense of humor that agreed with Mac's. After he was relieved by the next shift, occasionally David would come in to visit with Mac, and they would wind up playing table-hockey or watching whatever game was on TV.
David steered deftly into traffic, taking a roundabout way back toward the marina. As friendly as he had become with Mac, he was still a guard and he took his duties very seriously.
As he drove, David gave Mac a quick look and asked, "Tell me how long you've lived on that houseboat."
"Oh, a couple of years now, I guess. Why?"
David shrugged, "I dunno ... just curious. It's a nice place, but I think I'd prefer a real house ... you know, with a yard and a basement." He looked over at Mac and gave him a lopsided grin. "I was born in Kansas. I grew up in a storm cellar, you might say."
Mac chuckled. "Well, there aren't as many tornadoes in California as there are in Kansas, or I'd probably agree with you."
"Where did you live before this?"
"In a loft over a hardware store. Before that, I had a little apartment near Venice Beach. Nice scenery, but I outgrew it. The apartment, I mean."
"Yeah. I used to have a little place on the other side of San Pedro. It was okay, but after a while ..." David's words trailed off into silence.
"... you just know it's time to move on." Mac finished his sentence.
David nodded. "So, you decided you wanted to get closer to the water, eh?"
"I suppose. After growing up in Minnesota, I guess I just can't get close enough to the ocean." Mac laughed. "I supposed that when they manage to build a house under water, I'll have to get one of those next!"
David signaled a turn, taking it just before the light turned red. "So tell me the wackiest place you've ever lived."
"Wacky?" Mac laughed again, thinking back. "Um ... well, I guess I'd have to say Griffith Observatory."
"You lived in an observatory? Like a 'looking at the stars and stuff' observatory?"
"Of course! What other kind is there?" They both laughed. "I was caretaker up there for a while– " Mac broke off, staring out the window.
"MacGyver? What is it?"
"Telescopes ..." Mac answered vaguely. "I haven't been back there for ages. I wonder ..." Mac touched David's arm and said, "Turn right at the next intersection."
"Right? Okay ..." David downshifted quickly and executed the turn. "Where are we going?"
"Up. I got an idea ..."
The drive took them high into the hills above the city. Every mile that they traveled closer to their goal seemed to take Mac deeper into the past, back into days of recklessness and adventure when Mac's idea of fun was a really dangerous assignment that nobody else could handle. As the Jeep began climbing the last hill – it was really a small, steep mountain – Mac could see the gleaming white columns of Griffith Observatory peeping through the treetops.
The city had grown right up to the skirts of these hills, and the light that emanated from the sleepless night streets had encroached on the old Observatory, blinding her telescopes with a haze of light except on the clearest of nights. Still, she was well maintained, a popular choice for school field trips and amateur stargazers. Her lawns were green and the grounds trimmed, and the atmosphere was sparkling clean and fresh, like an abandoned magical castle riding above the smog-laden air of civilization.
The parking lot was deserted except for a single car, parked beneath a tree far away from the buildings. Two heads leaned close to each other, reminding Mac that this was also a popular hang-out for young couples. Mac directed David to pull into the space farthest away from the courting couple. Love was too precious and too rare to disturb for no good reason.
They got out of the car and crossed the wide lawn, circling the raised marble pedestal that upheld the aerospace monument. Mac and David made it all the way up to the door before they noticed the large sign next to the entrance that declared the Observatory closed on weekdays and gave a phone number to call for appointments.
"A shame," David said, giving the front door an idle pull. It was locked. "I was really looking forward to seeing your old digs."
"Well ..." Mac said, craning his neck around to look at the upper landing. "You know, I used to forget my keys a lot ... maybe my old emergency entrance is still accessible." Mac stepped off of the pavement and walked a few yards around the building. He stuck his cane in the back of his belt and took a grip on one of the stone ledges that decorated the proud edifice. "Time to give the leg a real test," he said with a grin. "Catch me if I fall off of this thing, will ya?" He flexed his knees and jumped, pulling himself up smoothly.
David stayed on the ground, watching in amazement as Mac climbed nimbly up the wall as if he did it every day. "Isn't this breaking and entering?" he asked as Mac disappeared over the lip of the retaining wall that encircled the upper-story viewing platform.
Mac's head popped back into view. "Only if I break something ... hopefully not my neck! Just wait there; I'll get the door from the inside."
Mac stretched his leg before he crossed the platform. It was a little stiff, but not too sore after the exercise. He pulled the cane out of his belt and tucked it under his arm.
The door that led to the viewing platform was locked as well, but Mac knew a way around that too. There was a ventilation grid above the door. Mac reached up and swung the grate open with his fingertips, then groped along the ledge inside until he found a dusty old key.
Chuckling, Mac unlocked the door, careful to replace the key before he went inside.
And they say you can't go home again!
A narrow staircase led from the viewing platform downward into darkness. After a few feet, Mac could tell by the feel of the air that the close walls had opened up, and he was inside the great dome where the big telescope was housed. It was pitch-black; the skylight was closed and all the lights were shut off. He felt his way down the steps, his feet making faint ringing sounds on the metal grating.
Mac remembered the layout of the dome from the many nights he had spent there, gazing at the stars. The massive telescope was raised on a mechanical platform that could turn the full three hundred and sixty degrees, enabling an astronomer to examine the entire sky. Around the inside rim of the dome ran a service catwalk. The footing was treacherous; only a thin handrail separated the walkway from a fall of twenty feet, and that railing was punctuated at intervals with gaps that allowed access to the telescope's moving walkway. Each gap was strung with a chain to prevent an accidental fall.
Mac felt his way along the catwalk, careful to keep one hand on the wall. He located the exit by memory, but just as his fingers found the door handle, the lights inside the dome flicked on.
The bright light temporarily blinded Mac. He raised the hand holding the cane to shield his face. There was a man on the telescope platform. Through watering eyes Mac saw him standing there, one hand on the control panel.
Still shielding his eyes, Mac raised his other hand in a peaceful gesture. "Hey, sorry about coming in without an invitation. I used to live here, and I was just ... " Mac broke off as he got a clearer glimpse of the man on the platform.
It was Dennis Winder. Mac recognized him from the surveillance footage he had seen from the Alameda State Hospital.
Dennis gaped at MacGyver. Of all the places in the world, this was the last one where he expected to see his nemesis. He had chosen this hideaway precisely because MacGyver was the kind of person that wouldn't return to an old residence; he was a drifter who always moved forward. It didn't make sense that he should come back here!
Mac could see the shocked expression of recognition on Winder's face. He quickly dissembled his own surprise, turning it into guilty embarrassment. "I just came by to reminisce around my old stomping grounds. Are you the caretaker? Look, I'm sorry if I surprised you ..."
"Don't insult my intelligence, MacGyver. I know that you know who I am." Winder pushed a button on the control panel; the great machine that held the telescope began to emit a low hum as it slowly began to turn, bringing the walkway around so that it could align with Mac's position. The exit was right behind him, but Mac knew that the door would be sealed; the controls allowed the operator to lock the door. The emergency release for that lock was five feet to the right of the exit, clearly labeled.
Mac shifted toward the lock release, but Winder reached into his pocket and brought out a handgun. "Don't try it." Mac froze. "Move away from there. Show me your hands."
Mac raised his arms, the cane still clutched in his right hand.
"Aw, come on, Winder," Mac said. "A gun? That isn't your style."
"That's why the police will never catch me," Winder replied. The walkway had almost reached the opening nearest Mac; a thin chain hung between the red-painted bars. "I know exactly how the police think. They have established their psychological profile of Dennis Winder, and all I have to do is deviate from what they expect – change my modus operandi – and they will be sent spinning in circles, confused and befuddled by the restraints they themselves have put into place. Now – drop the cane. You won't be needing it anymore."
Mac set the tip of the cane on the floor and let if fall from his fingers onto the catwalk. "If you're so keen on killing me, why didn't you try to take me when I was in the hospital or at my houseboat?"
"Oh, sure ... with all those cops hanging around? I swear, I could have tossed a dozen doughnuts in the air and not one of them would have hit the ground! I was planning on waiting until you'd dropped your guard ... maybe until after your next trip out of the country. But this is better. The Doctor will be pleased." Winder stopped the movement of the telescope platform and switched the gun to his left hand. He walked toward Mac. "The chain ... remove it."
Mac bent down to reach for the chain that blocked the opening to the walkway. He hoped that it wasn't a cheap one, because this would be a short fight if it broke. He took a breath, unlatched the chain, and jumped over the railing.
The chain bore his weight, and he swung around to the underside of the platform walkway. He grabbed for and caught the metal struts, hooking his knees around a bar. His left leg twinged painfully, but he ignored it.
Winder half-shouted, his pistol discharging as he tried to hit Mac in mid-air. Frustrated, he switched hands and tried firing through the grating of the walkway. The shots ricocheted away, the echoes painfully loud under the dome.
Mac recoiled from the gunshots and nearly lost his grip. Holding on with one hand, he undid his belt buckle and yanked the length of leather free. Then he waited for Winder to look over the edge of the walkway, hoping his leg wouldn't give out before that happened.
Winder wasn't to be taken in so easily. He left the platform and took to the catwalk, walking around to try to get a clear shot at Mac. The platform was too low, and Mac was hiding between the sturdy metal runners that supported the walkway. It didn't help that the dome lights did not illuminate underneath the platform; the deep trough was filled with shadows.
A muffled pounding sounded on the sealed door; someone was trying to get inside. The sound distracted Winder; he lowered his gun slightly, looking like a cornered animal.
"What's the matter, Dennis?" Mac called out from his hiding place. "Sounds like you've got company coming. Why don't you let them in?"
"They won't get through that door ... it's solid steel and I've got it locked." Winder was still trying to find a place where he could get a clear shot at Mac.
"It's all going south, Dennis," Mac slowly began to move toward the telescope platform. If he could get up on it and unlock the door ... he winced as Winder fired another shot at him. The bullet whined past his head.
Winder stumbled suddenly; he had stepped on Mac's cane where he had dropped it. Grinning devilishly, Winder shoved his gun into his belt and picked up the cane. Its slender length would easily penetrate the metal grating. He could push MacGyver off of his precarious perch!
"Tell me, MacGyver," Winder said as he stepped out on the walkway. "In all your travels around the world ... have you learned yet how to fly?"