"I've doubled the bounty on your boy's head, and we still don't have him. I believe you are a significant factor in that." El Noche explained to Jack.
"Are you campaigning to be president of the Jack Dalton Fan Club? 'Cause I've got no say in that. There's an election and you've got to make quorum-"
"Shut up!" Sancola snapped.
Judging by the frustration of the drug kingpin and the fact that Jack was still alive, he assumed that they still hadn't gotten their hands on Mac, and Jack was about to become leverage...or bait...or a human sacrifice to prove a point. None of those options worked for Jack. Escape was the only solution. Jack looked around the room, up at the ceiling, checking for all points of entry or tools for escape. Goon number 4 kept his gun aimed at Jack's head as the injured three shook off their defeat as they got back up, while Goon number 5 approached with a set of shackles and chains.
Jack would never tire of trying to throw people off by talking, "Hey man, my S & M days are long past, and you're totally not my type. I prefer nice tits and an ass that tastes like french vanilla ice cream." He flashed a cheeky grin as he pantomimed cupping a pair of butt cheeks.
"Shut him up!" El Noche yelled in frustration.
Fully expecting duct tape or a gag, Jack was surprised to see the chloroform and felt a little dejavu. Was that how they got him there? These gangsters were going old school. With a henchman on each arm and one at his feet, Jack was proud that four men were needed to subdue him. The fourth held the rag to Jack's face as the bossman observed with a smirk. Attempting a fake out for the second time in 10 minutes, Jack screamed and struggled against his attackers for show, but refused to inhale and went limp hoping his playing possum would fool them. It worked for a moment, but Sancola piped up in anger, yelling commands in Spanish as two guys stood to hold Jack upright. His chin rested against his chest as he allowed his limbs to dangle freely. Then El Noche grabbed him from behind, yanking Jack's head back by his hair, breathing in his ear. Jack's arms instinctively tensed, giving away his ruse, and the drug lord slammed the cloth against Jack's face until he was absolutely sure he was out.
Phoenix-the next morning.
Mitch was a low level IT guy at the Phoenix. He frequently got to do cool things like the people with more seniority, but he also got stuck with the most menial tasks. With using a think tank as their cover, the Phoenix had a dummy email address so that people could send in their requests for jobs or quotes for pricing. Someone had to go through those emails and send the rejection replies, "sorry, due to heavy caseloads and backlogs, we cannot accommodate your request for service at this time." Or whatever, depending on the request. Sometimes they'd actually find interesting desperate pleas from people begging for help solving a problem, they'd actually picked up a few kidnapping and ransom cases through that dummy email, but they fixed the problem without actually letting the victim's family know they were involved at all. Mitch was reading through the emails like he did every morning riding low in his chair, running his fingers through his dark brown curls, bored with the monotony of the ridiculous requests received.
One email caught his attention. It was addressed to MacGyver. The majority of the emails were addressed to no one in particular, and the only way to know of an asset by the name of MacGyver (either one of them) was to have encountered or worked in some capacity with them. Mitch was intrigued. He sat up and leaned in towards the screen with curious anticipation. When he opened the email, it included only a link. Their high end web security didn't flag it as a virus or a phish, so he clicked on it. He jumped back and averted his eyes upon seeing the image on the screen. It was a man strung up by his wrists with chains. He wasn't wearing a shirt and didn't appear to be harmed other than being unconscious. Mitch ran through the building to Matty's office, "Director Webber, I've got something in the dummy email account you need to see."
Her voice reflected her offense at the uninvited interruption by a low ranking lab rat she didn't even recognize "Excuse me?"
He barged in without an invitation and grabbed her tablet from her hands, frantically pounding commands on the screen until he flipped it toward her, showing the image from the website. Matty gasped audibly, "oh God, Jack." The normally unflappable leader was suddenly scrambling for words. "Is this real? Is it a video? Is it live?" She was already dialing Mac's number before finishing her sentence.
"Hey Matty," Mac greeted cheerily, "We just walked into the building."
"Is Jack with you?"
"No. He was supposed to change the oil in the GTO yesterday after doing laundry, so he was gonna drive her in and grab donuts. Bozer and I carpooled and picked up Riley on our way."
"When was the last time you saw him?" Matty's voice was firm, like she was interrogating him.
"I dunno? At work? Day before yesterday." Mac switched the call to speaker so Riley and Bozer could assist in fielding questions.
"Did you talk to him this morning?"
"Yesterday morning. He asked me what was the best way to get chocolate milk out of a dress shirt." Mac answered and looked at his friends to see if they had anything else to add. They both shook their heads with confused looks.
Jack's not usually late, and when he is it almost always has something to do with Mac.
"War room. Now." She ended the call abruptly.
The three young agents entered and closed the door to the war room where the smart glass was already opaque. This was serious.
"Riley," Matty started as Riley instinctively pulled out her computer, "I need you to track this feed. Find out if it's live, and find out exactly where it's coming from."
Bozer and Mac looked at each other wide eyed and confused until Matty pressed a button and the image of their friend filled the screens on the wall. Riley gasped but couldn't look away. She was looking for anything and everything to confirm that man on the screen was NOT Jack.
"Mac, Bozer, I need you to use any and every clue on this screen to figure out where, when, why, and who is doing this."
The scar from a bullet hole in his right shoulder, a scar from a knife on his belly, that ring on his finger, Riley could not deny that was her father figure dangling from a ceiling lord knows where. She watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest, confirming this was a video and not a still. Once she realized she was probably the only one that could pin down the location, she snapped out of it and went to work.
Bozer forgot how to breathe for a few moments. It was only when Mac spoke up that he remembered to inhale. "Cinder block walls, no natural light, concrete floor, looks like some sort of warehouse or basement, but the way the fluorescent light diffuses, it looks bigger inside more like a warehouse than a basement. Is there any audio so we can hear the ambient noises."
"I'm not sure. I haven't heard anything yet." Matty apologized as Riley pushed the feed through several programs that would pick apart every pixel and sound to hopefully find their partner before it was too late.