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Hate Meets Justice, part 4, Rated: G
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MacGirl
Posted: 25 November 2007 - 08:15 PM                                    
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Posts: 524
Joined: 2 May 2005
Gender:  Female
Country: USA
SAK owned: Superchamp

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Season: season 4
Episode:Too many to choose from
Vehicle: Nomad
Jacket:  Black leather
House:  House boat



The three of them sat in silence, MacGyver and Pete looking even more stunned than before. The tape had contained a conversation among people whom Stacey had identified as being WAPLA’s inner circle. The conference had involved the group’s plans for March 20th, in considerable detail. Pete was the first to find his voice, almost stumbling over his words in his rage, his round face turning red.
“My God… that guy who spoke first? He was actually giving orders for this insanity! ‘You two start in Bozeman, you three in Helena, and kill all the kikes, spics, niggers, and anyone with a foreign accent you can get your hands on. You three over there, you’ll be positioned to start in Duluth, and you’ll do the same thing. And you guys, you set up the bomb at the federal building. And on and on… and the plans to bomb the Foundation…’” Pete’s face was set in a hard frown, and his dark eyes glittered. “How do these bastards get away with this crap? If I hadn’t heard it with my own ears, I wouldn’t have believed it!” He was practically shouting now, and tears shone in his eyes.
Stacey was a bit startled at Pete’s outburst, but had to smile to herself. It just goes to show, she thought, the most seemingly laid-back people sometimes have the worst tempers. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to get on Pete’s bad side.
MacGyver was up, pacing like a caged tiger. His hazel eyes also had that hard glitter to them, but he was silent. Finally he spoke. Though his voice was even, Stacey could hear the anger underneath, threatening to break through.
“I knew there were still racists in this world… I learned that when Booker was murdered.” His glance at Stacey said, Another story I’ll tell you later. She was amazed that she could read this man so well, whom she had hardly known twenty-four hours. “But I never thought they could be this ambitious and determined. Stacey is right. We have to take them down, and the sooner the better.” He looked at the young woman. “We also have got to get you into that safehouse as soon as humanly possible. I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be in an unsecured location. I’m good at protecting folks, but it’s not my specialty. Pete, any way we can expedite that?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. I got a call just before you arrived from our witness protection division, and the waiting list has suddenly been reduced. The storms the last few days caused a computer glitch, which was what caused it to be so long, I guess. Anyway, the safehouse over on the east side, which is only about five miles from your place, is open. Stacey, if you’re ready for it, we can move you in this afternoon. MacGyver will be just a few minutes away if you need him, and the guards really are top-notch. Lots of former cops, military guys, long-time security professionals, especially nuclear plant and weapons lab guards. No one knows about it except a few privileged Phoenix employees, and the information is highly classified.”
“Sounds good. I like staying with MacGyver, but I know it’s dangerous for both of us. For all I know, they may already have surveillance going on the houseboat.” She looked at the clock. “As soon as we get back, I’ll pack up, and would be ready to go inside of fifteen minutes.”

“You ready, Stacey? We should be going.”
“Yep, all set. Let’s get going, before the WAPLA goons have a chance to spot us.” MacGyver hefted her bag into the truck, and they were off.

“Where are they? This doesn’t look good.” Carl was shifting around impatiently. “Did she really slip through our fingers?”
Unbeknownst to Carl and Ed, they had missed MacGyver and Stacey by about five minutes. Just as they crept up, the truck was turning onto the main road, headed south for the safehouse.
“No way. They probably just went out for a little while.” Ed was the eternal optimist, thought Carl disgustedly.
“Well, let’s hang out a little longer and see what turns up.” Carl was trying hard to hide his disappointment.

Near the safehouse, a new guard was showing up for his first day on the job. His name was Nick Backstrom, and he was an old hand at this sort of thing. He was an ex-Secret Service agent and former Navy MP. He had been told he would be guarding a young woman who was on the run from a violent white supremacist outfit.
Nick pulled into a parking spot a few blocks from the safehouse. He knew better than to park right by the house, and anyway, he could use the exercise.
Getting out, he started along the road, heading for the cross-street that led to where he was headed. He whistled as he walked along. Nick had been doing this work for nearly five years, and he loved it. He had never lost a protectee yet.
As he neared the safehouse, Nick heard running footsteps behind him, and moved over to let the jogger pass him. Before he had a chance to know what was happening, he had been shot in the head with a silenced revolver, and was dead before he hit the ground.
The attacker smiled. Dragging the guard’s body into a thickly wooded spot nearby, he stripped the uniform off him, and quickly exchanged his own clothes for the guard’s uniform. He also replaced Backstrom’s ID in his wallet with his own, phony Phoenix ID. He looked enough like Backstrom to pass for him, especially when the man who had hired him wouldn’t even be there.
“Stacey, you little bitch. You have no idea, do you? You’re really in for it now.”
He picked up Backstrom’s bag, and walked on towards the safehouse, as if nothing had happened.

“Here it is.” Mac pulled the truck into a parking spot in an underground garage beneath a low, nondescript office building.
“You’re right, Mac. No one would think to look here.” Stacey grinned.
A big, heavily armed security officer with a crew cut met them at the entrance to the building. “This the young lady who needs our help?”
“Yes, Rex, this is Stacey Rick.”
Rex held out his hand to Stacey, and she received a bone-crunching handshake. “Good to meet you, Stacey. We’ll take good care of you, don’t worry. You may be bored for awhile, but you’ll be safe.” His stern face melted into a warm smile, his bright blue eyes sparkling.
She assessed him. Rex stood a good two inches taller than MacGyver’s six feet four, and probably outweighed him by at least thirty pounds of pure muscle. His hair was bright red, and he wore gray military-style fatigues and combat boots. An AR-15 rifle and an ammo carrier were slung across his chest. If all the Foundation’s guards are built like this, and are as well-trained as Mac says, I’ll be fine.
“Can’t say I’m happy about the prospect of boredom, Rex, but I know I’ll be safe here. Pete Thornton was telling me that the Phoenix Foundation has been protecting people for over twenty years, so I guess you folks must know what you’re doing.”
“We sure do, if I may say so. MacGyver, where the hell you been? Has Thornton been getting your bum in hot water for you again?” He grinned and shook hands with the famed Phoenix troubleshooter.
“More than you can imagine, Rex. As usual, I barely escaped from this last assignment in one piece.”
“How did you get away this time, Houdini?”
“Oh, let’s just say that hydrochloric acid and ammonia make a great smokescreen, with the added effect of being one heck of a tear gas.” MacGyver grinned slyly. Stacey shook her head. What the hell?... I’m not going to ask.
Rex held up a hand, chuckling. “I don’t think I want to know. You scare me sometimes, you know that, Mac?”
The blond man laughed as they stepped into an elevator. “Rex, I scare myself sometimes. I honestly don’t know where this stuff comes from. It just… pops into my head when I least expect it, and most need it. Anyway, it’s saved my hide more times than I can count. I guess I must have someone looking out for me.”
“You must. Well, here we are.” Rex stepped off the elevator first, with Stacey following. MacGyver came last with her backpack. “Let me give you the grand tour.”
The safehouse was about fifteen hundred square feet, Stacey guessed, with only very high windows for natural light, and gray, industrial-type carpet, like one would find in schools. The bedroom was plain but comfortable, with a bed, a nightstand, and a dresser. A built-in closet provided a bit more space. The bathroom was off the bedroom, and the living room was down the hall, with a couch, a worn but comfortable-looking armchair, a TV set with a DVD player, a decent stereo system, and a couple bookshelves worth of DVD’s and books. A glance into the cupboard below the TV revealed two dozen or so board games and a few decks of cards. A treadmill, an elliptical trainer, and half a dozen sets of barbells of various weights stood in one corner. There was a small Pullman kitchen off the living room.
“We go for groceries once a week. We keep basic staples on hand, along with fresh meat and fruit and veggies, but if you want anything special, just say so. We’ve taken care of folks with pretty expensive appetites, so our food budget is quite generous. We can also get you pizza if you want, Domino’s, Papa John’s, whatever. We meet them at a decoy house about a mile from here, so any spies have less of a chance to track down this place. We make a Chinese food run once in awhile, too. Also, we can get you library books and videos, or pick up something at the bookstore for you, as long as you reimburse us.
“Our quarters are right through this door,” Rex continued, indicating a door in the south wall of the living room. “One of us is always in here with you, and at night, we stay out in the living room, though we will look in on you from time to time. We work eight-hour shifts, staggered every day, so no one who might be watching can determine a pattern, and we each get a week off every month, in rotation. In the extremely unlikely event that things do go south, there’s a sort of last-resort saferoom, about twenty feet under the building. It’s secure, all right, but it’s pretty uncomfortable, and we’ve never had to use it in the ten years I’ve been with the Foundation.”
MacGyver smiled at Stacey. “See what I mean, Stacey? You’re going to be quite safe here. All our guards are just as good as Rex…but a lot of them are more handsome.”
Rex grinned. “Oh, so now you’re saying I’m ugly? Well, so are bulldogs, and they’re not nearly as tough. And anyway, look who’s talking…” Mac grabbed him in a wrestler’s grip, and a friendly wrestling match ensued.
Stacey laughed for the third time in less than twenty-four hours. God, it feels so great to laugh! Just a few days ago, I thought I wouldn’t live to laugh again. Her arm was feeling a bit stiff, so she pulled off the sling and massaged her still-sore and very tight muscles. Though her elbow still hurt like hell, and she made a mental note to ask Rex where they kept the Tylenol, she decided to leave the sling off for a few minutes, and let the kinks work themselves out a bit.
The wrestling match over, Mac disentangled himself from Rex, both of them still grinning. “I better get going. I need to stop by Pete’s office again, and tie up some loose ends from my last assignment. I’ll give you a call tomorrow, Stacey, or maybe stop by, and see how you’re doing.” Then he noticed she had taken off the sling, and his face grew concerned.
“My arm was getting stiff. Just had to work out the kinks.” Mac nodded at her. “Probably not a bad idea. If you keep as limber as you can, you’ll probably have an easier time of it once the bone heals.”
“I didn’t even see the phone.” Stacey looked at Rex, puzzled.
“Right here.” He slid back a panel in the wall to reveal it. “Secure line. Totally untraceable, unlisted, unpublished phone number, and of course, classified.”
“I love it.” She smiled. “The Foundation seems to have thought of everything.” She turned to MacGyver. “Thank you again for all this, Mac. You and Pete have already saved my life once.” She felt tears come to her eyes as she spoke.
He smiled that gorgeous smile, and quietly opened his arms to her. She stepped into his arms, and they embraced each other. Stacey stood there, tears running down her face, feeling those incredibly strong, warm arms around her, her head resting on his powerful chest. Listening to the steady, reassuring thump of MacGyver’s heart, she felt completely safe for the first time in months.
Mac held Stacey close for several minutes, resting his head against hers. He was already starting to care deeply about this young woman, who had walked—or was that fallen?—into his life less than twenty-four hours ago. A germ of an idea was starting to grow in his mind… maybe, when all this was over, he would ask Stacey if she would like him to adopt her. Her family was gone, and she would likely be taken into foster care, at least. She had had enough bouncing around to last her quite awhile. Stacey was already working her way into his heart. She was strong but gentle, funny, honest, and smart, and he would love to have her as his daughter. He still had to think about it awhile, and had to explore the legal side of it, but he knew Sam would be thrilled to have a little sister. It would also be nice to have someone around the house. Mac had missed Sam’s childhood, and maybe he could make up for a little bit of that with raising Stacey. He hoped he could introduce Sam to her soon. No doubt Sam would be eager to help with the investigation, though Mac worried about him constantly, and wasn’t sure he wanted his son involved. Sam had a nose for trouble as unerring as his own, though he had also inherited some of his father’s ingenuity. He also had his mother’s generous streak.
Mac let go of Stacey, and held her by the shoulders for a moment, to look her in the eyes, and gently wipe away her tears. “Stacey, you may not believe this, but for all the trouble this is causing, I’m darned glad the houseboat you ended up on was mine.”
Stacey was speechless as MacGyver gently squeezed her shoulders, then smiled at her one last time, and turned to walk out the door, closing it behind him.
She turned to Rex, who stood watching quietly. “You think he means that?”
A smile lit up her bodyguard’s face. “Stacey, I know MacGyver quite well, and trust me… he wouldn’t say that if he didn’t mean it from the very bottom of his heart.”

“Yeah, Stacey’s inside the safehouse now. MacGyver’s with her.”
The man disguised as Nick Backstrom hit END on his cell phone, and returned to his position, posing as the front door guard.



Do not pity the dead. Pity the living, and above all, those who live without love. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

You don't eat things like that, you call pest control! Kate in The Gauntlet

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Lateral... cranial... impact... enhancer. *whack* Last Stand

 
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