Well this is my first MacGyver fic, so be gentle! It's also only the first part, so there will be more as I go along. It's first person Mac, as I used to love the wee voiceovers we used to get in the early seasons. I'm only upto season 5 yet, so please forgive if I've gotten something wrong that comes after.
Present Day CaliforniaAs the casket lowered into the ground, I finally had to admit that Pete Thornton was gone.
Ever since I’d heard the news, I’d been in denial.
He couldn’t be dead. Heck, Pete was gonna live forever.
Except he wasn’t.
None of us are.
Maybe it seemed worse because natural causes had taken him, not some old enemy from our younger days.
But dead was dead, wasn’t it? It didn’t matter how, or why.
I recalled a time when I’d told Pete I wasn’t afraid of dying, because my grandpa, Harry, had shown me there was something beyond it.
Today, as I had to face my own mortality, my own age, well, I wasn’t sure what I believed anymore.
“Mr. MacGyver? Mr.
Angus MacGyver?”
I cringed at the use of my first name, but inwardly I knew it was Pete having one last little joke at my expense, and in my head I could see him smiling and mouthing
Gotcha! I looked up to see a fresh-faced kid eyeing me anxiously. I don’t know what he had expected to find here, but I wasn’t it.
You’re getting old, Mac, I mused silently.
“I guess that’s me.” I raised a brow and smiled, and I swear he almost flinched.
“I…I’ve been instructed to give you these, Sir, in the event of Mr. Thornton’s death.” He passed over a small white envelope, which I instantly recognized as being in Pete’s hand. And then a larger manila file followed.
I scanned the printed titles on the latter first.
“Project Reaper”
“VX490” Of all the things Pete could have sent me from beyond the grave, this was not something I would have expected.
In truth, I’d never expected to see the words ever again. Not since 1989…
Phoenix Foundation Headquarters
November 1989Pete Thornton was sitting at his desk, eyeing paperwork piled before him as if he was staring at something quite evil.
But then, Pete had always preferred field work to pencil pushing. Even if he knew he was getting too old for it.
He looked up as I knocked on the open door and entered, and I smiled back at him.
“You know, you could always burn that pile of bureaucracy. I won’t tell, honest.”
Pete made a huffing sound. “I wish, but this all has to be read and signed off on.”
I took a seat, waiting for the inevitable admission from my friend that he hadn’t dragged me into Phoenix to wish me a great vacation. “So…” I prompted. “Why am I here when I should be half way to Minnesota by now? You know there’s a game I was gonna catch, right?”
Pete’s face screwed up in that way that was almost an apology without words.
Almost.
“I know, and I wouldn’t ask this if it wasn’t important. But…” He took a document from the pile he’d been staring at and passed it over to me. “Robert Stirling was one of our finest operatives. About five years ago, he disappeared whilst investigating a pharmaceutical company we suspected of doing more than just drug research.”
I looked down at the typewritten header on the file. “ZaliPharm? I’ve never heard of them.”
“They’re a hidden conglomerate that own several of the big name, big bucks companies you see on every drug store shelf. Owned primarily by one Peter Zalister. But from what we can tell, he’s not the only one behind the dirty operations we suspect them of.”
“But never proved,” I pointed out as I started to read the folder’s contents. “Says here your guy Stirling was last seen in Malibu, near ZaliPharm’s main distribution plant?”
“Until a few hours ago, that’s what we thought, yes.” Pete stood up and looked out the window, and I could tell this was more upsetting to him than he was letting on.
Stirling was more than just an operative, he was a friend of Pete’s…“Early this morning a skier over at Wolf Creek Ski resort, Colorado, found a body. There’s not much left after all this time, but,” his voice trailed.
“It’s Stirling,” I finished for him. “But in
Colorado? What was he doing way over there? Any local connections to ZaliPharm or a subsidiary?”
Pete shook his head. “As far as I can tell, not a thing. And that’s where you come in.”
I’d suspected as much. “You want me to fly out and take a look around, right?”
“I wouldn’t ask, Mac, but Stirling was an old friend from my DXS days. Not to mention I hate that we never caught Zalister.”
I smiled at him. If there were two people in this world I could never say no to, it was the madcap Jack Dalton, and of course, Pete Thornton. “I guess Minnesota is on hold. When do I fly out?”
“I have a Phoenix Foundation Learjet standing by.” Pete sat back down at his desk. “It’ll take you as far as Steven’s Field in Pagosa Springs, then we have a car waiting to take you into South Fork. The body was taken to the nearest doctor’s office there from Wolf Creek, and is scheduled to be moved to the local coroner’s office in the morning.” He glanced at another paper, this time set aside from the pile. “It says here you’ll need to contact a Dr Phil Allcott once you arrive, and he’ll fill you in on everything he knows.”
“Have you spoken to him yet?”
Pete sighed. “I tried earlier, but it went straight to an answering service. I guess the ball’s in your court from here. I have a meeting with the board this afternoon, then I’ll try and join you out there.”
I’d known that was coming, but I didn’t mind. Pete was always good company, and had saved my hide on many a mission. I figured I owed him just as much as he owed me.
After five years, I just hoped I could find something of use out in Colorado to at least close the book on Stirling, and the already sinister sounding ZaliPharm.
* * * *
Dr. P Allcott’s Office
South Fork, ColoradoThe flight from California had been a pretty bumpy one. I don’t know why, but Mother Nature loves to throw turbulence and anything else she can find at me, every time I go airborne. Luckily, while I’m not fond of heights, I don’t mind a choppy jet ride unless I’m the one in the pilot’s seat – and this time, I wasn’t.
Once we touched down, as good as his word, Pete had a car waiting to drive me into South Fork. Just a local cab, but it sufficed for my needs until I could hire a set of wheels of my own.
The cabby dropped me right outside the doctor’s office, and I was greeted by a yappy little Scottish terrier that wanted to chow down on my ankles every step I took towards the porch.
I’d gotten as far as the third step when the screen door swung open and a pretty little blonde with a towel in her hand sauntered out.
“Hi, can I help you?”
I slid off my sunglass. “Hi, I’m looking for a Dr. Philip Allcott? Name’s MacGyver. I think he’s expecting me?”
She laughed at me, and I couldn’t help notice how cute she looked, even if I hadn’t a clue what was so funny.
“Um, his name’s on the door right there?” I pointed out.
“No, it’s not,” she corrected. “The “P” doesn’t stand for Philip, it stands for Philipa.” She smiled again. “And that would be me. Don’t worry, though, most new people in town make the same mistake.”
I slid my sunglasses into my pocket and followed her as she gestured for me to go inside. “You are at least expecting me?”
“Yes, I got the message from Roy Brevin. He’s the Sheriff over in Creede,” she offered helpfully. “But I’m afraid I don’t have good news.”
She led me through into the business end of her home, through her office and into the back. Then she pointed to the rear door and I guessed what was coming next.
The door had been forced away from the frame; the heavy duty lock obliterated by what I assumed had been a shotgun blast at point blank range.
It was a pretty violent way to break in when a tire iron or credit card would probably have achieved the same thing.
That didn’t bode well for the kind of people it meant I was dealing with.
I kneeled, examining the damage up close and personal. I could see all the tiny holes where each pellet had torn into the woodwork, obliterating it.
Something stung in the back of my mind about the whole picture, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure why, so I let it go – for the time being at least.
“The remains of the body were in here, huh?” I surmised, my eyes scanning the mess for any clues.
The doctor nodded, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “There really wasn’t anything left but some remnants of shredded clothing, and a partial skeleton. Certainly, nothing that needed any special conditions. Storage here didn’t seem to be a problem. In fact, when the guy from Wolf Creek first brought the bones in we thought they may have been an early settler’s. It wasn’t until the wallet was found later that we identified him and realized what we had. Then we scheduled for the coroner to pick the remains up, but…”
I stood back up. There was nothing I could glean from the door, but there was more the doctor could fill me in on, of that I was sure. Not to mention, if Stirling’s’ bones were worth stealing, there was something big here.
Something I had to find, and fast.
“Was there anything on the bones that might suggest how Stirling died?” I asked in frustration.
“You mean anything to point to murder, don’t you?” Philipa put a hand on her hip. “Nothing a cursory examination showed. No gaping holes in the skull, no knife gouges or bullet marks on the ribs. No bullet holes in the cloth that was left, either.”
I rubbed my chin. Why would ZaliPharm want a dead body, even if it did show the man had been murdered?
“I just don’t get it,” I admitted. “Stirling was investigating a case in California. What was he doing out here? Something must have drawn him to Colorado, but what?”
“Maybe it just ones of those cases we’ll never have the answers to?”
I wasn’t giving in that easily. “Do you have a local newspaper? If they have records, maybe I can search through what they have just before Stirling came out here. It’s a long shot, but something brought him to this area, and that’s what I need to focus on.”
Philipa shrugged. “Sure, the office is in town. Do you need a ride down there?”
“Yes, ma’am, if you don’t mind.” I put my sunglasses back on and followed the doctor back outside, waiting while she grabbed her keys and purse.
She had a small soft top on the driveway that I barely fit in. It suited her, but not the kind of terrain I might be going over soon.
First the newspaper archives.
Then,
then I really needed to find something with four-wheel drive.
* * * *
The newspaper office was smaller than I’d expected, but kept adequate archives of past issues. Luckily, that meant that Phil and I could pretty quickly find the issues leading up to when Stirling had died.
The problem was, nothing exciting really seemed to go down in Wolf Creek, or the National Forest that surrounded it.
“What exactly should I be looking for?” Philipa asked as she rifled through browned, faded newspaper copies.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, scanning a daily of my own. “What about this?” I stopped on an article about a skiing incident at the creek resort. “Where you around when this happened?” I tapped a photo that went along with the report.
Phil craned her neck and took a look. “I remember it vaguely, but why would a bunch of skiers getting caught in an avalanche have anything to do with a missing Phoenix agent?”
“Maybe because six people went up that mountain, and not one body was found, just like Stirling.” I read further into the article.
It looked like a husband and wife, two sisters and a couple of guys from the actual resort had gotten caught with their pants down up on one of the ridges and had paid the price for it. At least, that was the way the report figured it.
Now me, I’m not one to always go with the obvious. Especially if it involved one of my great passions – skiing.
Not to mention I’d been caught in an avalanche once myself, so I knew how these things went down. Not finding bodies wasn’t unheard of at all, but along with Stirling a week later, it just seemed off.
None of this was exactly a smoking gun, but the party
had vanished close to where Stirling’s remains had been discovered.
It was enough for me.
“I’m gonna go up there and take a look for myself,” I decided.
“But there’s not going to be anything up there but snow. It’s not like you can search a crime scene,” Phil pointed out. “Isn’t it all a bit pointless?”
“If you don’t look, you’re never gonna find.” I closed up the newspaper. Maybe it was nothing, but I had to check every lead, no matter how small. “Can you drop me at an equipment store? I’m gonna need some things.”
“I could come with you,” The doc offered. “I know the area well. I have a cabin up there.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine. A ride to the store will be just as good.”
She nodded, but somehow that cute little smile didn’t seem so attractive any more.
C’mon, Mac, you’re slipping… I brushed it off. There were more important things to deal with than the local doctor’s wounded feelings because I hadn’t let her tag along.
National Forest
Somewhere near Wolf Creek Ski Resort
Sometime Later…Buying some suitable equipment to go up into the mountains had proved pretty easy to do. The tourist trade around Wolf Creek at this time of year meant you could snag everything needed in one store.
What wasn’t so easy was predicting the weather. The local forecast hadn’t given any warnings for heavy snowfall.
And yet, as I hiked up further into the hills, the flakes were growing larger and larger until I barely could see my hand in front of my face.
I’d followed the trail from the resort as far as I could, but once you got past where the skiers wanted to be, it pretty much faded out into nothing.
Not many folks wanted to come up here at this time of year if they weren’t skiing.
I paused at a broken down, half-covered stump and looked back below me.
The area was smothered in trees dusted with snow until they looked almost festive.
Why were you up here, Stirling? What had you found? What did six ski-related deaths mean that was so important to come here from California?The forest seemed to mock me and my questions, as a clump of snow dropped down heavily from a burdened branch above.
I ignored it and pushed on, my boots sinking deeper and deeper into the endless field of white.
Eventually, I spotted an incline, tilted slabs of rock jutting out from it like white-tipped sentinels. And next to it, almost completely covered by a drift, was something definitely man-made.
The discovery spurred me on, and my gait grew quicker, despite the weight of snow on my boots.
As I grew closer, I finally realized what I was looking at.
These strange shapes beneath the snow were tumbled down buildings that had probably been here since the turn of the century. Maybe a silver or zinc mine that had been long since played out.
But there was still something “off”
I reached the first structure and quickly slung off my pack, allowing me more freedom of movement. Keeping my gloves on, I began to scoop snow away until I’d unearthed a rotten, half hanging door.
I pushed at it, but oddly, it was stronger than it looked. I shrugged and stepped back, giving a good hard kick at the thing until it finally gave.
I dug a small flashlight from my pack, and moved into the ancient, or maybe not so ancient structure.
Inside was clean – too clean.
And there was certainly no evidence it had ever been used by early miners.
Time to poke around… I pulled off a glove and began to examine the walls and floor.
It wasn’t half as decayed as I’d have expected.
In fact, the more I looked, the more I was convinced the place wasn’t actually old at all.
Maybe ten, fifteen years at most.
So why the illusion? This had to be what Stirling had come to Colorado for, and what had ultimately gotten him killed.
I spotted a knot in the wood of the far wall that looked just a little too pronounced. Letting my rather cold fingers trace its outline, I finally pushed hard and the center sank in.
Seconds later, it was replaced by something no turn of the century miner had ever seen.
An electronic keypad that flashed randomly at me in a less-than-gorgeous ruby red.
I stood back and eyed it, weighing up just how hard it would be to crack.
I had nothing up here I could dust the thing with for prints to see which digits had been used, so that solution was out the window.
I did have my knife, of course, and right now, taking off the keypad fascia with it and delving into the wiring looked like my only option.
I stuck a hand in my pocket, tugged out old faithful and flicked out the small screwdriver option.
The only thing now was, the screws could have tamperproof sensors on them that alerted whoever was in charge that I was here.
I guessed there could also be hidden cameras, but then, wouldn’t some beefcake security already have stormed the room if that were so?
I had to hope whoever had built this place hadn’t really seen the need to go that far.
Tentatively, I took out the first small screw and sighed with relief when no audible alarm started screaming. That just left the possibility of an inaudible one alerting someone in a hidden security center…
I pushed the thought aside, took out the other three screws and swapped from screwdriver to knife blade.
I flicked the fascia off and stepped back to take in the mess of wires within.
Disarming bombs was one thing, opening doors was another.
I needed to be in the right place in my head to crack this one.
I pushed my hand carefully inside and let my fingers gently touch each wire, tracing them as far as possible, remembering each color and where it led.
Eventually, I tugged a small yellow wire out just a touch, cut it and then did the same with a slightly thicker blue. Twisting two ends together I waited, hoping for some kind of reaction.
After about ten agonizing seconds, the keypad retracted, the knotting piece of wood returned and it looked like I’d been literally left out in the cold.
Two more seconds…
There was a slow hydraulic hiss and the entire wall vanished sideways revealing a metal wall with another door.
Great, just great. I opened Pandora’s’ box and found yet another box.My eyes searched quickly for another type of lock or opener, but there was nothing.
I looked again more closely, and realization dawned on me.
The door resembled that of a lift. Two metal sliding sections that met in the middle.
And incredibly, there was a gap.
I pulled out my pocket knife again and slid the blade in, tugging to the left until I had enough of a gap to get my fingers in.
I tugged, and the door drew back surprisingly easily, as if there was no power to it.
As I stepped inside a long white corridor, it didn’t try to close behind me.
I glanced around, but there was no light in the place, like the door, it seemed to have no working power supply.
They only left power to the main access panel?I retrieved my flashlight from earlier and fanned it around.
This was the entrance to some kind of lab.
Makes sense if ZaliPharm are involved. I moved further inside, taking a left turn here, a right there, and sometimes using small stairwells.
Nothing.
The place had been emptied – no gutted some time ago.
Here and there a random cobweb dared to spoil the opaline, antiseptic atmosphere of the place.
I discovered an office with wall-to-wall cabinets, but they were all empty.
No nametags on doors or desks, no company logos on walls or corridors.
This lab had been closed down and emptied, destroying any evidence of who had been here or why.
I knew it was ZaliPharm, and so had Stirling.
But what had they been unto here that had been important enough to kill not one man, but possibly seven, if the skiers were part of the equation?
I turned to have one more sweep of the facility, but my ears picked up on a sound. It was muffled at first, but as it grew louder I knew it was footsteps. Not one pair, but the echoing taps of at least two people moving towards me.
I pushed my back into the wall and switched off my light, waiting to see if they would come into the section where I was hiding.
The footfalls stopped and I heard muted voices.
After a moment, the sounds of the footsteps began again. This time, one growing louder, the other softer.
They’d split up.
Maybe they’re not here for me at all. Coincidence? Nope, that doesn’t make sense.
I could feel my own heart beating rapidly in my chest as the stranger grew closer, adrenaline fueling my senses.
A strange shadow bounced on the wall opposite me as the newcomer’s’ light filtered through the corridor.
It wasn’t a defined shape, but there was enough for me to see he or she had a gun in their right hand.
Ready and waiting, probably for me.
I winced. There was nowhere for me to go except straight into their path.
Full frontal and hope I can get the gun off them before they fire? Or wait until they find me? I guess I’m an impatient kinda guy, as I opted for the full frontal.
No sooner had the figure paused to pan their light than I pounced forwards, launching myself at them like a football player in the vain hope they didn’t pull the trigger reflexively.
The automatic went off, once, twice, three times, I counted in my head as I tussled with stranger.
Somehow, though, I’d managed to dodge all three slugs as I wrestled with the bad guy’s right wrist for control of the weapon.
He punched me in the stomach with his free hand, and my brain registered the force of his blows. This guy was a pro. He knew how to hit and make it count.
I rolled backwards out of the way of another jab, still focusing on disarming my assailant.
Finally I snapped his right hand backwards, and he yelped, dropping the firearm but not giving up the fight.
I took another punch, this time to the jaw and was knocked backwards by the force of it.
I went with it and dropped low, kicking the automatic into the shadows, and hopefully out of the bad guy’s reach.
He stepped back and with what little light his now fallen flashlight gave off, I finally got a good look at him. Stocky, but wearing a suit and tie, and around my age, I’d guess.
He could easily have been taken for a fed, and maybe he once had been, but not anymore.
I knew a hired gun when I saw one.
Maybe not on Murdoc’s level, but this was a killer I was looking at, and he didn’t care who his target was.
He smirked at me and then took off his jacket, taking some kind of martial arts stance I didn’t even recognize.
Now I’m not afraid of a fight, and I’ll defend myself when I need to, but I’m no killer, and I knew that trading blows with this man was going to be a gladiatorial style battle to the death.
Mine, if I wasn’t careful.
My eyes darted down the corridor.
There was only one official way out, and I had to pass the goon to get to it.
But what if there was a more unconventional alternative?
I’d noticed earlier that some of the empty labs had unusually large disposal shafts – and I didn’t think for one minute that they were for laundry.
It was a gruesome thought, but I couldn’t help shake the idea that these ducts had been for disposing of bodies.
And I don’t mean rats.
Larger animals, maybe monkeys or even…
I tried not to think about the implications that humans might have been used here, instead pushing my thoughts into an escape plan.
I waited until the bad guy made his move, then I made one of my own.
As he kicked out like a bad Chuck Norris imitation, I darted to the right as if I was in a scrum out on the ice. Sometimes my hobbies did come in handy out in the field.
The guy bounced off the wall and I darted down the corridor towards the labs as if my life depended on it – because I was pretty sure it did.
It was hard going in the darkness without any kind of light, but my eyes adjusted quickly and I barrelled into the first lab just as a slug ricocheted off the door frame.
Either the bad guy had retrieved his weapon, or he had a spare.
I used my hands to feel for the metal autopsy table I knew was in the center of the room somewhere.
As the cold steel touched my fingertips, I evaluated in my mind just how far away the disposal chute was using the mental map of the room I’d plotted in my head.
Another bullet sped past me, this time close enough to make the hair on the back of my neck bristle.
I could hear the heavy breathing of my assailant as he entered the room, could smell his cheap aftershave.
This was it, I had to move or die.
Still uncertain if I’d calculated the position of the spillway correctly, I made a dive for it in the darkness anyway, and was relieved when my body began to slide on steel rather than hit a concrete wall.
I heard curse words from above as the bad guy realized I’d managed to vanish into thin air, but my euphoria was short lived.
The incline of the shaft was much steeper than I’d guessed, and I was speeding down it far too quickly to have any kind of soft landing.
Not to mention, I had no clue what was at the bottom of the thing anyway.
I reached out, trying to use my arms on the sides to slow me down, but my momentum was simply too great.
I felt the direction of the shaft change slightly, and then realization dawned that suddenly, there was nothing beneath me only stale air and that horrid sensation of falling.
I’d reached the end of the tunnel and was about to find where it led.
It seemed like a few seconds passed and my mind screamed that this was going to be one hard landing.
Dead bodies didn’t need to worry about
feeling, or
hurting, after all.
Then I hit whatever was at the bottom, and I hit hard.
It felt like cold, unforgiving concrete at least for a millisecond.
Then my forehead bounced onto whatever my body had, and the already dark, frightening world turned even blacker…
TBC......
