Did I say I'dbe free Sunday to finish this and comment? Ha! Joke was on me for forgetting I'm a shrink type, and can be called at any time to help with crises.
Anyway, here is Part Four, written while I am overworked, so bear with me.
Still, we begin to see a little bit of what is going on, but as with every such occasion, one answer gives rise to far more questions.
I hope you enjoy! I'd really appreciate it if you told me what you think, and what you think may be going on.
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Part Four The farmer looked on warily as Farrah began tearfully explaining what the matter was. The more she talked, the more MacGyver felt his stomach tightening and his worry rising not so much for him, but for Pete. Why had he signed off so suddenly? There had to be good reason for it.
Farrah sighed and bent her head.
“The Mediterranean is famous for the sandy beaches and the vacation resorts; especially Greece- not for research and bio-war. So ye see, MacGyver, how this was the perfect place te hide what research there was going on.”
“What exactly is it? Who are you affiliated with?” MacGyver asked as gently as he could. He tried to avoid the word ‘terrorist’ or any accusatory tone in his voice. Farrah couldn’t be really affiliated with those thugs that shot him and who had chained her to her office. If she was, she wouldn’t be confessing anything to him now.
Farrah rubbed her eyes with the bottom of her palms and heaved a weary sigh.
“’Tis rather a long story, MacGyver, but I really am not affiliated with them, or anyone. I came te Greece te werk in a General Hospital as part of my werk experience in epidemiology, as they receive lots of illegal immigrants from war infested lands or third world countries. Ya see, I was planning te join Doctors without Borders with this exact specialty. My dad said that before I was te do that, I should try werking in other countries for a few years, with such patients. I started in Greece.”
“That sounds like quite the plan,” MacGyver nodded. “So, what happened?”
“My vanity happened… and think tanks happened… and I thought I was developing an all purpose antibiotic te release in water, so that people in third world countries can be protected from diseases without having te come forward te doctors personally.”
“I see,” MacGyver frowned. “What did you develop instead?”
“Well, I started doing what I said I’d do. But then I got this letter of recommendation and praise, that my werk was drawing the attention of big research institutions. Tha Phoenix Foundation said they wanted to fund me to continue my research with full services and equipment. I… I was flattered,” the woman bent her head as if she was admitting to some sin.
“Hey, who wouldn’t?” MacGyver said sympathetically. Farrah sighed and plodded on.
“Then shortly after I accepted their offer, this other man came, said he was from the Phoenix Foundation and werking with some U.N. health department and the Hellenic state. He showed me a different molecular design of a chlorine compound. It is very toxic, but if the lethality is removed, ye can have instant purification of water alongside my antibiotic shield in the water. He told me te see if I could combine the two.”
“What was his name?” MacGyver asked sharply. What Farrah was describing would have been seen to by Pete- and Pete had never mentioned anything about any mission or project taking place in Greece. Even when he’d sent MacGyver to get Farrah, he had said that she had been hired by a private lab.
Pete never needed to lie to Mac- or withhold info.
“A- a scientist named Keele,” Farrah stammered. MacGyver frowned, but knew he wouldn’t be able to see if this was a phoney or a mole before he talked to Pete and cleared up a few things.
“I think I understand where this is going,” MacGyver said. “You’ll tell me the rest in a while. Time is pressing for something else. Did they shoot you with a GPS tracker?”
Farrah blinked.
“I… I don’t know. They just said they would be tracking me when I woke up. They… they’d knocked me out… when they found only I’d destroyed the data on the chemical and… and they couldn’t access it where it is.”
“Where is it?” Mac asked softly. Farrah swallowed and bit her lip before she whispered :
“In me. In… I got it… in me veins.” Her accent thickened for a moment, and somehow MacGyver didn’t want to ask her exactly what she meant just yet. He knew it would be nothing nice, and they would need to get going, and he wouldn’t be getting any better.
Instead of asking further he nodded, mostly to himself as he glanced around the cabin, his eyes carefully taking in every little thing and contraption until they lit up with an idea. He turned towards the farmer and pointed at a small portable radio, the type that mangled music through a tiny speaker.
“Can I take this?”
Farrah translated and the man shrugged and nodded, handing MacGyver the little appliance. Mac switched it on and played with the tuner a little – it hissed with static and some hints of music. MacGyver grinned. Turning it over, he exposed the mechanism within and using his SAK one-handed, as the radio lay on his lap, he adjusted the battery power so that the radio would be able to pick up the wavelengths he wanted.
“Let’s see where your tracker is, shall we?” he said as he put the plastic cover back on the radio and neared the hissing device to Farrah. She stayed statue-still as MacGyver scanned her, starting from her neck and going slowly downwards to her back and arms. He had gone midway down her back, almost to her waist, when the little radio gave off the tell-tale hiccupy sound of a wireless transmission, much like a cell phone would, but far, far weaker.
MacGyver grinned a little further.
“Doc, I think we can finally lead the boys after you astray. Does good mr. Kostas have any painkilling shot? I will have to pull the chip from under your skin.”
It turned out mr. Kostas had everything a vet could wish for, including subcutaneous needles and tranquillizer shots and painkillers- Farrah presented MacGyver with the same stash from which she had patched him up. MacGyver wished he could use both his hands, and that the rather swift process wasn’t tiring him so much- but his arm and shoulder were beginning to throb again painfully, and a heavy, alarming chill had began settling in his immobilized limb while his head felt like it was slowly beginning to sizzle.
Seeing what they were about to do as well as MacGyver’s gradually worsening condition, the farmer volunteered to do the extraction himself, promising to be gentle and effective. Farrah leaned forward, peeling off her sweater down to a midriff tank top. MacGyver sighed and shut his eyes, leaning back. There would be a trek through a dark forest soon- he would do well to conserve energy.
“MacGyver?”
He cracked his eyes open.
Farrah winced a little as the farmer took a sharp scalpel-like blade to her skin. Her eyes bore into his.
“When I realized what I was doing, it was too late; what I’d made from the combination wasn’t a benevolent and fast acting medicine as I had been falsely led to believe through Keele’s false test subject results. It was the DNA of a deadly biohazard. I found out only because I tested my own creation on lab rats before Keele arrived to do it with me. MacGyver, it’s the perfect terrorist weapon- it begins by offering euphoria and a sensation of well-being. That’s endorphine oversecretion,” she rattled off the information quickly, feverishly almost, as if she was afraid she wouldn’t have the time to do it later.
MacGyver nodded, forcing himself to focus and for the information to wade its way through the pain and into his memory regardless. The farmer pulled out a small pellet-like contraption, making the radio buzz some more.
“Stop!” MacGyver raised his good arm before the man dropped the thing in a glass of water. “We need this. We need this to go the other way of where we are going, even for a while before they realize the ploy. Every moment earned once we set out, is in our favour.”
“What will ye do with it?” Farrah asked. MacGyver smiled impishly.
“Can’t let a good GPS go to waste,” he said, shivering a little. He didn’t seem to notice, but Farrah’s trained eye did. She frowned. For all of his endurance and optimistic flair, the troubleshooter’s stamina would probably fail him midway through the trek to the pick up point.
And what would happen then?
Intelligence is the one variable everyone believes to be constant.
Hope you get to slow down! Thanks for the new chapter! 
Love this , keep it coming ! 
