I only rated this part R for some of the descriptions. Otherwise, it is not as violent as the previous part. Once again, all credit for the Spanish belongs to ghostdoll. Thank you! You're the best!
Shake Hands with the Devil Part Four
Rated: R
Five years earlier…
Moving through the night, the large, covered truck appeared on Velazquez’s fields. Its official purpose was to pick up crop loads and transport them to the presidential palace under the guard of heavily armed men from his own military ranks, their orders to shoot any of the citizens who tried to mob or rush the truck to steal the provisions inside. Unofficially, the truck had become MacGyver’s best hope for rescue. Posing as members of Velazquez’s military were several political dissidents, among them MacGyver’s contact. Along with them were also a few agents from the CIA, also sent into the turbulent country to help foment an organized rebellion against Velazquez. When MacGyver’s contact learned what had happened to him, he felt personally responsible and enlisted the aide of his closest confidants within the underground network as well as the other American agents, arguing convincingly that he was one of their own and had unintentionally been captured and placed in harm’s way and needed to be saved from a brutal death. Used to engineering such complex escapes, it nevertheless took the team several days before they could even possibly conceive of entering the forbidden territory.
As the truck slunk surreptitiously through the cover of darkness, it reached its destination based on intelligence they had gathered as to the whereabouts of MacGyver, parking in front of the infamous Tomb, concealing it from the other watchful eyes of El Diablo’s men. It was late in the evening, the blackness of night confusing the images the other guards saw, believing the truck was there on its usual evening route, the routine obviousness of it making them lose interest and pay less attention. The combination of night, apathy and tiredness from the guards, and the commonplace appearance of the truck all worked in their favor, as MacGyver’s contact knew these factors would. It allowed them valuable time to liberate MacGyver from his hell and sneak him out from beneath their unsuspecting eyes, thinking the load they had picked up was merely more from the harvest instead of a man they had been keeping prisoner. It was the perfect covert rescue in theory. Now, all they had to do was successfully put it into practice. The men hiding quietly inside the truck only hoped they hadn’t arrived too late, only to discover that MacGyver was dead.
Slowly opening the iron gates to The Tomb, using a set of keys one of them had managed to lift from another guard days earlier, the men gagged at the revolting, foul stench of the rank cesspool of human waste that greeted them, some of them fighting and biting back the strong urge to vomit in disgust. When they recovered, they were just as shocked by the condition of the man inside condemned to such deplorable quarters, wrapped tightly in chains, blindfolded, and gagged like some mummy in a cruel dungeon.
“Dear God,” one of the American agents whispered, pointing his flashlight at him. “Look at what they’ve done to him! How could anyone treat someone so horrendously? It’s despicable!”
“Nevertheless, that is how prisoners are treated under Velazquez’s regime,” MacGyver’s contact said, remaining stoic despite the immense sympathy he felt for the captive. “Some fare better than others, but most of them meet a similar fate. Now, your government can understand why it is we need your assistance so urgently.”
Unlocking the chains and removing the blindfold and gag did little to reduce MacGyver’s shocking appearance. His body was mangled and contorted from the broken limbs, covered in filth and grime, his hair matted with dried, caked blood and waste. Cuts and sores in various stages of infection riddled his skin, the unmistakable smell of decay emitting from some of them indicating that gangrene threatened unless treated immediately. Dark bruises caused his skin to puff and bulge, swelling badly. His form was desiccated and gaunt, almost skeletal, showing how long he had been deprived of food and water. Fighting his nausea, his stomach churning violently, one of the American agents felt for MacGyver’s pulse. It was weak and erratic, but present.
“He’s still alive…barely,” he said, despondency in his voice. “We have to move him now.”
The others handed him a large, heavy canvas sack normally used to house the crop’s bounty and gently wrapped MacGyver’s broken, badly damaged body in it, bundling him in it, trying to disguise him yet keep him as comfortable as was in their power. They lifted him carefully, surprised by how light he was, carrying him towards the truck. Stirring slightly, MacGyver released a plaintive whine. His contact placed his hand over his mouth to stifle it, not wanting to alert the attention of El Diablo’s guards.
“It’s going to be all right now,” he whispered to MacGyver. “We’re going to get you out of here. You’ll be safe.”
Not even conscious, MacGyver never heard him and never knew any of the events surrounding his rescue. Closing the iron gates to The Tomb, its only occupant now a long coil of empty chains, the men got back into the truck and began driving slowly away. As much as they wanted to tear madly out of there before running the risk of being discovered for what they really were, they knew they had to continue behaving as if their presence there was expected so as not to arouse suspicion. Aware of how dangerous their mission was, they wanted to be long gone before anyone noticed MacGyver was missing.
“ˇAlto! (Stop!)” One of the guards at the high entrance gates shouted, he and his partner standing in front of the truck to make sure they followed his order. “Tenemos que revisar este vehículo antes de que puedan pasar. (We have to search this vehicle before you continue).”
The men inside the truck tensed, wondering if their plan would be easily foiled. They knew the guards inspected each truck to check for prisoners trying to escape. They had been searched when they first entered. Still, they hoped MacGyver would be covered and motionless enough to pass for a sack of grain. If needed, they would open fire in self defense and to protect MacGyver, but all of them agreed that was the last resort, not wishing to start a war just yet. Timing, strategy, and the proper amount of personnel were critical when it came to organizing a rebel uprising, otherwise many more innocent lives would be lost, and they wanted to avoid as much bloodshed as they could. Simply opening fire without a plan of action would have caused mass chaos, Velazquez and his henchmen punishing the general population with harsh retribution. They waited as the men examined the truck, preparing themselves for the worst. Once again, the routine and commonplace saved them, the guards taking one glance at the sack containing MacGyver’s shattered body, counting it as one of the other decoy sacks inside meant to resemble bags filled with the different crops on Velazquez’s private land.
“Adelante. Pueden continuar (You are clear to go),” the same guard that had stopped them said. He and his partner slowly opened the gates, allowing the truck to drive through and all the men inside to sigh in relief.
“That was stage one,” one of the CIA agents said after they were clear of the fields. “We have an unmarked plane ready to transport him out of the country. That will be stage two.”
“What about us?” MacGyver’s contact asked.
“What do you mean?”
“We wish to defect.”
“It’s going to be difficult, if not nearly impossible, to get him out of this country, let alone bring your men with us. I’m sorry, but I just don’t think we can do it.”
“We will be more useful to your government in your country than we will be here. In your country, we can speak freely, emerge from the shadows. Here, it is more difficult to plan. We can provide you with valuable information that will help you know how to best depose Velazquez. If we remain here much longer, we risk becoming political prisoners subjected to tortures similar to what MacGyver just endured and possibly death. As the leader of one of the dissident groups you wish to ally yourselves with in support of ousting Velazquez, you cannot afford to lose me. If I die, and the men with me die, our information will die with us.”
Convinced, the CIA men agreed to take them with them along with MacGyver in the nighttime flight that promised to deliver them all from the hell on earth created by Velazquez and El Diablo, no doubt the human incarnation of the fabled Lucifer, the impression he left on the men’s minds evident in MacGyver’s twisted, grotesque form haunting them forever, inspiring and motivating them to act even sooner against Velazquez’s regime than originally proposed. He unintentionally became a symbol of all the violence and inhumanity in the region. The men from the United States government had always sympathized and supported those campaigning for a return to human rights in the area, but when one of their own became a victim of Velazquez’s barbarous tactics, they felt an intense personal stake in the matter, reviving and strengthening their desire to do all they could to remove Velazquez from power as soon as possible before others suffered the same fate.
***
The Present…
“I insisted that I bring MacGyver into the hospital alone,” MacGyver’s contact said. The elusive Ben Stark, otherwise known as Enrique Cruz, sat calmly across from Pete Thornton, staring at him with his deep, intelligent, probing eyes. Although he was now older than he had been when he rescued MacGyver, he was still young yet wise and mature beyond his years. “Too many men swarming around him would have caused more of a scene than his battered body already did. I wanted his treatment to remain as secretive as possible. Only select hospital personnel directly involved in his recovery and anyone in your government were allowed to know the truth.” He sighed. “Besides that, I suppose a part of me felt it was my fault that he had ever ended up in that condition in the first place. I wanted to ensure that he would be in safe hands.”
“How did you find me?” Pete asked.
“I learned you were MacGyver’s boss through my government contacts in this country,” Enrique said, shrugging. “You see, I have become somewhat of an agent myself because of my knowledge of the area, given access to all kinds of information they wish to share with me.” He frowned. “What I don’t understand is why it took you so long to find
me. Surely your Phoenix Foundation and other elements of your government communicate with each other.”
“Not always,” Pete said. “Sometimes, branches of our government can become bureaucratic and factious, withholding information. It’s the proverbial left hand not knowing what the right hand is doing sometimes.” He sighed. “I guess I also just didn’t think of it until now. When MacGyver was brought back to me…well, you can understand after seeing him the way he was then. He occupied every moment of my time.”
Enrique nodded solemnly, indicating that he did understand. “Just a few short months after he was brought back, your government helped launch the armed rebellion against Velazquez,” he said.
“I know,” Pete said. “I’m ashamed to say that I barely paid attention to it at the time, vaguely aware it was even happening.”
“Yes, well that’s understandable. You were concerned for MacGyver. You are close to him, no? Somehow, I sense he’s more than your employee.”
“He is,” Pete said, his eyes intense, communicating their strong bond to Enrique without having to utter another word.
“So, why try to find me now, Mr. Thornton? After all, it has been several years.”
“Well, that part is complicated,” Pete said. “I’m not sure you’ll believe me when I tell you this, but MacGyver believes that Carlos Gutierrez is actually Juan Garza, the man better known as El Diablo—his torturer from that time.”
Enrique sucked in a deep breath, pondering what Pete had just told him. “There is no doubt it is the same man,” he said at last. “He might have changed his appearance, but he cannot change who he was. Recreating himself as a man of the people, as a hero of the revolution is one of the unfortunate consequences of your government choosing to support the wrong group of rebels in this struggle for freedom and democracy.”
“What are you suggesting?” Pete asked.
“Well, it’s as you said…the left hand did not know the actions of the right. In your attempts to be helpful to our cause, you rushed to support the first group that organized and declared independence, never once questioning what kind of independence they were seeking. El Diablo worked hard to transform into a different man, fashioning himself into the perfect mountain guerilla leader, romantic and dashing, easily fooling you with his heroics and rhetoric. I’m not saying I blame your government. Your actions were well intentioned, but ill conceived. You were just as desperate for a liberator as my own people were, and now they’re in danger of reliving a rule similar to Velazquez’s. MacGyver’s assumptions are correct, I’m afraid.”
“If you know all this, how come you haven’t come forward and provided this information to our government?” Pete asked.
“We have been preparing a detailed dossier of everything we know about Juan Garza to expose him to the world for what he truly is—a murderer and former top henchman to Velazquez, but it has been a long process that requires a lot of intelligence gathering and conversing with those remaining in the underground political movement who also know the truth about Gutierrez. We’ve had to be careful and take our time; otherwise, those groups would be found out and executed. We’re almost ready. Now, all we need is your government and your media to have the humility to admit that they made a mistake and backed the wrong man.”
“Easier said than done,” Pete said. “Americans take pride in their country and its actions seriously, Mr. Cruz. It will be a very public humiliation on the world stage to admit to such a grievous error. Imagine—us, backing a known terrorist and butcher, someone who should be convicted of crimes against humanity? It’s unheard of, and unthinkable.”
“Nevertheless, I only hope when the time comes for us to release this information—and it will arrive soon—that your country decides to do what is right, regardless of the fear of losing face. I hope so for your sake, and for MacGyver’s. He should never have to be reminded of that ugly time or that man ever again, and neither should any of my people.”
“I know,” Pete said. “I hope so, too.”
To be continued…
"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer."
--Henry David Thoreau
brains+brawn+beauty+personality=MacGyver
Like I said, glad you wrapped it all good and nice. You rock! 
