Stacey woke up slowly. Where was she? For a moment, she was confused and frightened. Then the events of the previous night came back to her, and she smiled in relief. She was going to be OK, and she was going to take down WAPLA, with MacGyver and Pete helping her.
She sat up and threw back the covers, rubbing her eyes. She had slept well for the first time in almost three months, ever since she had scrambled away from the WAPLA compound under the cover of night, when the guards were changing shifts.
She grabbed her backpack and headed for the bathroom, still limping a little, but her ankle felt much better than it had the night before, and the hot shower felt great. Afterwards, she dressed awkwardly in clean jeans and a pink sweatshirt, her arm still hurting like hell, then headed back to the bedroom to put on her makeshift sling and swallow a few Tylenol. As she left the room, she noticed her clothes from the night before, clean, folded and in a neat pile on the floor near the foot of her bed. She headed down the metal staircase in her stocking feet. She couldn’t quite manage to tie her shoes with her elbow the way it was.
MacGyver sat at the kitchen counter, dressed in jeans and a red shirt, a glass of juice in front of him. He looked up with a smile. “Morning, Stacey. Sleep well?”
“Very well, thanks. It was the first time I’ve slept in a real bed for… well, I’m not sure how long.” She smiled shyly. “Felt wonderful. My ankle’s feeling better, anyway. Maybe I just stepped on it wrong and turned it a little.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. How about your arm? Did it keep you awake?”
“No, I was so tired that I fell asleep as soon as you left, and slept like a dead girl all night. Didn’t even feel my arm.”
“Good. It’ll take awhile to heal; I remember my son’s elbow took a good six weeks or a little more to heal completely, but if I remember right, his pain was more or less gone after the first week to ten days.” He moved to the stove. “Would you like some eggs and toast? No bacon, sorry. I’m something of a vegetarian.”
“That sounds wonderful. I’m not a big fan of bacon, anyway. Thank you.” She perched on one of the stools at the counter, getting a good look at one of the men who had been her saviors.
MacGyver was much taller than she’d thought last night, standing a good six feet three or more. His arms and legs were so long he might have been the stereotypical klutz, but he moved with the easy grace of an athlete. A powerful build said he was not a guy you wanted to mess with. His blond hair shone like sunshine, and whereas mullets looked silly at best on most guys, the style was great on him. Big hands and long fingers moved confidently as he went about his business, and his intense but gentle dark eyes, with that warm light in them, missed nothing, and sparkled when he smiled, a beautiful, contagious smile that could have lit up all of Los Angeles. But when he seemed to think no one was watching him, there was just a hint of sadness around his eyes and mouth, the kind of look that said he’d seen much more than most people. Stacey found herself wondering just what his story was. Maybe, if they grew to trust each other enough, she might find out.
Mac handed her a plate. “Here you go. There’s more, so don’t be shy. Would you like some O.J.?”
“Please.” She started eating, and realized just how hungry she was.
Mac set a glass of juice down by her plate, then took the seat next to her. For several minutes, they ate in silence.
Mac was studying Stacey as he ate. Despite her black eyes and bruises, she looked much more rested and alert this morning. He knew she would have to take it easy for quite awhile. For one thing, he didn’t want her getting sick. She had been on the road for… how long had she said? Three months? He was amazed that she hadn’t woken up with a cold, or worse, this morning. How on earth had she made it this far?
She must be one tough kid, he thought with a mental shake of his head. Just to survive what she’s been through, to say nothing of getting away and managing to mostly avoid these jerks for three months. Incredible. Determined, too. Determined to expose them and bring them to justice. How many adults would have that kind of courage? And she’s just fifteen!
Stacey looked up at him. Their eyes met, and for a moment, she wondered why he was so quiet. But she said, “I see the sun’s coming out. Maybe it was just as well it was raining and cold last night. The two guys who were after me, Carl and Ed, must have decided they’d had enough.” She laughed, and her green eyes lit up, just for a moment. “They think they’re so tough, those two, and then when it starts getting a little cold and rainy, they give up and disappear,” she said, and her voice carried a combination of condescension and disbelief. “They’re both ex-Marines, too. The weather must have worn out its appeal while they were in the service.” She shook her head. “Not all the guys are like that, but those two are not only some of the biggest wimps in the group, they’re also the easiest to outmaneuver. Well, Ed is, anyway. He’s not too bright, and not all that devoted to the militia. I think he got dragged into it by someone else, a brother, maybe. Carl, though, he’s a piece of work. He’s hard-core, and he’s one of the most dangerous men I’ve ever run across. He’s a big guy, strong, and a hell of a shot. But again, not too bright, not too good at strategy. He’s your stereotypical dumb redneck.”
MacGyver grinned as he listened to Stacey. She seemed to be a good observer of people. She could make one hell of a good Phoenix employee, especially in that new division that’s tracking hate groups. She’d be a natural, having actually experienced one herself, he thought. He made a mental note to talk to Pete about maybe hiring her when this was all over. She was nearly sixteen, and since she was finished with high school, Phoenix might just be able to find a way to hire her. She might have to work reduced hours until she turned eighteen, but it would be well worth it to have her there. Given her situation, he wouldn’t be surprised if the Foundation would be willing to give her a scholarship, possibly a full ride, for college.
They finished eating, and Mac collected their dishes and rinsed them in the sink. “The dishes can wait until later. Let’s go over to Pete’s office and have a look at those documents and hear that tape. By the way, did you get some Tylenol for your arm? You might want to have some along.”
“Good idea. The sooner this gets out, the better I’ll feel. And yeah, I did take a few Tylenol when I got up, and have some more in my pocket.” Stacey was relieved that the truth was finally going to come out, but she was also afraid. “MacGyver.”
He stopped and looked at her.
“… please promise me you and Pete will be extremely careful. These people are even more dangerous than you probably think. They’re capable of anything, and I mean anything. I can’t stress that enough. I’ve overheard a lot, you know, and I once heard them planning a hit. I don’t know if they pulled it off, but I wouldn’t be at all surprised if they did. They won’t hesitate to put you in their sights, and I mean that quite literally.”
He smiled and gently ran a hand through her hair. “We’ll be all right, Stacey. Pete and I don’t get involved in a project, especially one like this, without a lot of research and making sure our security forces can step in if need be. I’m a lot more worried about you. You may be on your own quite a bit in the next few weeks. You’ll be at the safehouse, with plenty of security, but you’ll still have to watch your step. It may get kind of boring, too, though we’ll try to set you up with some books, videos, games and whatnot. The guards are pretty good at keeping people both safe and entertained, but the latter is strictly secondary. I’m afraid you may have to amuse yourself a lot of the time.”
“A few months of tedium will be well worth taking down WAPLA,” she answered, she answered, looking at him steadily. I would be willing to give up just about anything, if it meant WAPLA is brought to justice, she thought.
“No guarantees, but I have a funny feeling we just may do it. Now,” said Mac, “let’s make sure we have everything. You want to put your tape and documents into something that won’t look suspicious? I’m going to assume that we’re being watched.”
“You catch on quick, MacGyver. I’m assuming so, too. Let’s see… how about a gym bag? We could pack it half full of towels or something, so it looks like one or the other of us is going to the gym.”
“I like it. Sneaky.” Mac grinned at her. “I’ll be right back.” He ran upstairs to the bedroom to grab his duffel, and was back in less than five minutes. “I stuffed a bunch of towels in it, like you suggested,” he said, opening the bag to show her.
“Perfect.” She laid the bag of documents and the audiotape in the bag, then used some of the towels to cover them up. “If they’re watching, it’ll be hard to know we have these. But they may come after us anyway.” She frowned, and hesitated.
He looked at her. “What’s wrong?”
“Uhh, can you help me with my shoes? I can’t quite put them on with my elbow like this.” She blushed.
Mac smiled at her. “No problem, Stacey. Where are they?”
They looked around for a moment, and she found them almost under the couch. She managed to get them on with one hand, and then Mac knelt down to tie them for her. The simple gesture of kindness brought tears to her eyes, and she blinked quickly, so he wouldn’t see.
They headed out the door, and Mac locked the houseboat. Stacey let him lead the way up the dock towards his truck.
“Let me worry about them coming after us, if and when it happens. We’ll take a back way there, which is conveniently confusing unless you really know where you’re going.” His expression turned mischievous. “If they are watching, and try to follow, I’ll find a way to lose them.”
“Sounds like this isn’t your first time at the rodeo.” She looked over the truck hood at him, as he unlocked the doors.
“No way. Not the first time, and with my luck, it probably won’t be the last, either. Just when I think things are going to settle down, and I can quit the Phoenix Foundation and go home to Minnesota, something else always comes up. Didn’t you say you were from Minnesota, too?”
“Yeah, Roseville. You’re another native, huh? I might have guessed.”
He laughed. “Grew up in Mission City, in the northern part of the state. How did you know?” They both climbed in, she using the handle by the door to haul herself up one-handed, and he handed her the bag to put on the floor by her feet. They buckled their seatbelts, and Mac pulled out of his parking spot.
“Your common sense gives you away. Not to mention your accent.” It was Stacey’s turn to laugh, as they drove along the beautiful, palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. “I had friends from up that way, on the Iron Range, and the stereotypical ‘Minnesota accent’ is even more pronounced there than it is around the Twin Cities. Think ‘Fargo.’”
Mac shook his head, chuckling. “That movie is way too funny. They threw in everything that makes Minnesota unique. The accents, extreme winter, all of it. Normally, I watch mostly old westerns, but ‘Fargo’ is one movie I’m glad I caught when it was in the theater.”
Stacey settled down for the ride, but she couldn’t help casting the occasional glance over her shoulder as they drove. The roads were busy, surprisingly so for a Saturday morning, she thought. But this was L.A. “Is it always this busy here?” she asked.
“Most of the time, yes, this busy or worse. You should see rush hour. But in a situation like this, the traffic can be an advantage. Besides, I know how to bollix up a traffic light if need be.” He cast her a sly grin.
“Really? How?” She was curious.
“Let’s just say you use a credit card and one of these.” He pulled a Swiss Army knife out of his pocket.
“Cool! Can I see it?” He handed it to her, and she carefully looked it over. “It’s the same model I have. Dad gave it to me the Christmas before he died. It’s in my backpack.” She was quiet for a moment, then added, “It came in very handy a few times when I was running from WAPLA. I don’t exaggerate when I say I’d probably be dead without it.” She handed the knife back to him.
“Ah, another out-of-the-box thinker. I love it.” He glanced at her and saw her baffled expression. With a wink, he told her, “Like Pete said last night, hang around long enough and you’ll see.”

“Now where was that houseboat?” Carl whispered. He and Ed had decided to dress in civilian clothes and leave their guns behind for this foray.
“Hmmm. I think that was it, but I’m not sure.” Ed pointed to a light brown houseboat with a slanted roof and a partially covered front deck.
“I think you’re right, but it was so dark last night, it is hard to tell.”
“What now? Do we hang around and hope they return soon? It’ll be hard to be here long without someone getting suspicious.” Ed looked around nervously.
“Probably come back when it’s dark.” Carl was scanning the marina, too. “Or, we can swing by here a couple times today, and see if we can catch them when they come back.”
“Phil ran a check on the guy who lives there,” Ed supplied. “Name’s MacGyver. He’s dangerous, a do-gooder who works for that Jewish conspiracy outfit, the Phoenix Foundation. If he’s the one sheltering Stacey, he’s in for a hell of a lot of trouble. He’ll wish she never showed up on his doorstep.” His voice took on an edge.
“Let me guess. White guy?”
“As white as you and me. Traitor.” Ed was silent for a moment, though Carl saw he was angry. Maybe Ed would turn out to be good and hard-core after all, he thought. “But,” Ed added, brightening a bit, “the guy hates guns. Won’t touch ‘em.”
“That’s always good. Well, then, we’ll just have to take him out, along with her. I mean, what’s one more to deal with?”
“That’s not all. He also has a friend, Peter Thornton, who happens to be his boss at the Foundation. Thornton may be a little easier to deal with, though. He’s nearly blind. Glaucoma.”
Carl grinned. “Cheer up, Ed. We won’t have to worry about the Phoenix Foundation for much longer, anyway.”


They reached the Phoenix Foundation headquarters without incident, and Mac went through the dance of getting Stacey properly registered as a visitor. There were times when security was a pain, but the Foundation had no lack of enemies, and it paid to be careful.
They walked into Pete’s office, and Helen, Pete’s longtime trusted assistant, announced their arrival. Pete emerged almost immediately, heading for the sound of Mac’s familiar voice.
“Have a quiet night?” he asked.
“Yep. After you left, it didn’t take us long to settle down and sleep.”
“Good. Are you feeling better today, Stacey?”
“Yes, still sore, but much better, thanks. It’s amazing what a shower, some proper sleep and food, and clean clothes can do for you. Not to mention,” she added quietly, “knowing that you have some good people watching out for you.”
At that, both men smiled. “Did you bring your documents and tape?” asked Pete.
“Right here,” answered Mac.
They walked into the office, spacious and nicely furnished. “Have a seat, you two.” Mac found chairs for himself and Stacey, positioning them right in front of Pete’s desk.
As Pete considered Stacey the expert here, not to mention the one with the most to gain or lose, he decided to let her call the shots. “Which do you think we should look at first, Stacey? The documents, or the tape?”
“Well, the tape is most important, but it won’t make a lot of sense without the documents. There’s a lot of background there.”
“There’s no way I’ll have time to go through all of those today. We’ll look at the most relevant, and then we’ll take a listen to the tape. How’s that for starters?”
“Works for me. I know almost everything that’s in the documents and on the tape, so I can fill in the most important holes, anyway.”
“All right. MacGyver, you want to see what’s in there?”
“Sure.”
He unzipped the backpack, and withdrew the plastic bag full of papers. Taking them out, he started shuffling through them. “Stacey, I don’t believe this. There are instructions on how to make bombs of various strengths, advice for spying on the government, stuff about sabotage…” He looked at her, stunned.
“That’s just the surface stuff. It gets juicier.” She reached for the sheaf of papers with her good hand. “Here, let me see. I might be able to save you some time… I think I know where to look for the ones I have in mind… ah, here we go.” Stacey pulled out a stack of papers about a quarter of an inch thick. She laid the rest on the corner of Pete’s desk. “Here, check these out.”
Mac took them from her with an apprehensive look. He started glancing through them. “Oh, my God,” he whispered in shock.
“What is it?” asked Pete.
“These guys are planning a coordinated attack all over the country on March 20th, just like Stacey told us last night. It’s all laid out right here, down to the hour. Starting at 7 that morning, right here in California. They’re planning to blow up the federal building, the post office, and… oh, no.” His voice caught. “Oh, God, no.” His dark eyes filled with tears.
“What? Mac, what is it? You’re driving me crazy. Please tell me,” begged Pete.
His friend put down the papers and looked straight into Pete’s eyes. “They’re planning to bomb the Phoenix Foundation.”
There was stunned silence for a minute, then Stacey spoke. “What? I didn’t hear that part of it. Let me see that.”
Mac passed her the page. She scanned it, and then her face fell. “Oh God…” For a moment, she couldn’t speak.
“Why?” Pete looked baffled and angry. “Why would these people come after us?”
“Pete,” said Stacey, “I hate to tell you this, but you have no idea how many people hate the Phoenix Foundation. The militias, and not just WAPLA, hate it because of all the work you do promoting tolerance and peace. It doesn’t help that you’ve started tracking hate groups as well. To them, you are a huge threat, a big part of the ‘Jewish conspiracy.’” She moved her fingers as if drawing quotes. “They’ve gone after civil rights law firms, too, and even some peace groups. Anyone who is working for tolerance and understanding between different races, religions, and nations is evil to them, because it defeats their efforts to work for white, ‘Christian,’ American supremacy. In addition to the Phoenix Foundation, they also hate the UN, just to cite one example.” She sighed. “These people have a totally twisted view of the world. Basically, they’re losers who would never have amounted to anything if they hadn’t joined the militia—a lot of them got kicked out of the military, or never qualified in the first place--and they blame all their problems on people of other religions, especially Jews; on black people, Asian people, gays, the government, immigrants… in short, they blame everyone else because it means they don’t have to face themselves and take responsibility for their own lives. The only way they can feel better about themselves is to tell themselves and each other that the white Christians who hate others are “God’s Chosen People,” and as such, they have a duty to wipe out anyone and everyone who doesn’t think like they do. In other words, they basically think they’re on a mission from God. Throw in their penchant for guns and weapons in general, and you’ve got quite a force to be reckoned with.”
Mac shook his head. This was getting worse the more they learned. “Do you think they’d respond to a peace offering of some kind? Negotiations?”
She laughed wearily. “MacGyver, you’re a great guy, but you’re kind of naïve. These people don’t understand anything but force and violence. The only way to stop them is to have them arrested and convicted in a court of law, or to get a court order restraining them. But,” she added, “the death penalty won’t accomplish anything on them… it’ll just make them more determined. Witness what happened when Timothy McVeigh was sentenced to die. The hate groups just hardened their stances, and got worse.”
Pete’s expression was grim. “So what do you suggest?”
“Well,” she answered, “we’ve got to find a way to get them arrested, and make damn sure they get convicted and imprisoned. That’s really the only way to go. There was a time when court orders worked pretty well, like back in the early ‘80’s when the Texas Knights of the KKK were harassing Japanese fisherman in Galveston Bay. The Center for Social Justice, a very effective civil rights law firm, took the Klan to court, and managed to get an injunction stopping the harassment, and even managed to nail the KKK for operating an illegal military outfit. The Knights were out of business in a hurry. But hate groups have gotten more violent and defiant since then, and many of them don’t even recognize the federal courts anymore. Plus, the Klan and later, the Order went after the CSJ, burned its offices, and tried to assassinate its lead trial counsel. The folks at the CSJ were just damn lucky they didn’t succeed.” She shifted in her chair. “If we can find a way to get this information to the proper authorities, and maybe work with the police, we can take WAPLA down. It won’t be easy, but we really have no choice.”
“Sounds like the CSJ might be able to help us. I’ll give them a call,” suggested Mac.
“Good idea, Mac. They likely know more than we do. And that reminds me,” said Pete. “What about your legal status? You’re still a minor, Stacey, and if the police find you, there’s a good chance they’ll return you to your stepparents.”
“True. That’s been haunting me for the last three months, believe me. I don’t know what I’ll do. I’m surprised you two haven’t called the police on me yet.”
“Guess we just didn’t get around to it,” answered MacGyver. He fell silent for a moment. “Pete,” he said thoughtfully, “is there any way she might be able to get a judge to declare her an emancipated minor? I don’t know the criteria, or the details, but it might be worth looking into.”
Pete looked thoughtful, too. “First,” he said, “we should check the status of Stacey’s adoption. I have this feeling that something’s not right about it, and it’s worth nosing around a bit. If it turns out that she was adopted illegally, not to mention if we turn up what I think we’re going to turn up, a judge will almost certainly rescind custody from her stepparents. She would then have the choice of being declared an emancipated minor, having someone else adopt her, or being declared a ward of the state. I can look into that, too.” He smiled slyly. “I have a friend who works in the state child welfare office, and he has contacts all over the country. It shouldn’t be too hard to determine, one way or the other. I’ll get right on it.” He looked at MacGyver and Stacey for a moment. “Before we forget, let’s listen to that tape.”
Stacey pulled it out of the gym bag. “Mac,” said Pete, “I have a tape player around here somewhere. Can you find it for me?”
Mac stood up and started looking on the bookshelves. “Here it is,” he answered as he pulled it down. He brought it over and set it on Pete’s desk.
Stacey popped the tape in and hit PLAY.