I apologize for the delay in posting this next installment. I had a rather busy weekend!
As usual, I appreciate the support of my loyal fans!
Secrets and Consequences Part Six
Rated: R
The shrill ring of his telephone awakened Pete. Briefly disoriented, his dry, puffy, bloodshot, and sore eyes darted rapidly around until he was able to make sense of his surroundings and realize that he was in his office, darkness beyond his windows, the city lights glittering in the distance. The oversized letters on his digital clock told him it was past one o’clock in the morning, and the building was nearly deserted. He had been working tirelessly for days, cooperating with the police in the search for MacGyver, but so far they had found nothing, no leads whatsoever. As the phone continued to ring urgently, he noticed that it originated from his private line. Now fully roused from his groggy state and alert, wondering with some unease and excitement if it was the police and they had found something new to report on MacGyver’s mysterious disappearance, he quickly answered, pressing the receiver against his face where crinkled creases had formed from sleeping, his face pressed against the papers on his desk.
“Thornton,” he said, hearing the exhaustion in his voice. He ran a hand over his bald head, smoothing down the few remaining hairs that were sticking up, also leftover from sleep. All he heard in response was silence, followed by the sound of someone breathing. “Hello? Is anyone there?”
“I can help you, Mr. Thornton,” a voice said on the other line after another period of silence.
Pete didn’t recognize the voice, hearing a slight Eastern European accent in its inflection. “Who is this?” He asked, his frustration growing. “How did you get this number?”
“Who I am is immaterial at this juncture, Mr. Thornton. I know where MacGyver is. I can help you find him.”
Pete sat up more erect in his chair, paying close attention. “How do I know I can trust you?” He asked.
“You don’t,” the voice on the other line said. “But I will tell you that if you don’t take action soon, he will die.”
“Is that a threat?” Pete asked gruffly.
“No. I am merely stating a fact. Now, listen to my instructions closely. You will meet me at the old warehouse and industrial district on 49th street. I will tell you all I know and all you will need to do to rescue MacGyver. Am I clearly understood?”
“Yes,” Pete said.
“Good. I will see you soon.”
The line went dead.
***
The warehouse and industrial district was a series of abandoned, ugly buildings in various stages of dilapidation. In the darkness of early morning, it looked like a graveyard, monstrous, hulking silhouettes of warped and distressed steel illuminated only by the pale, greenish light of overhead lamps, some of them flickering weakly. Pete was on his guard as he walked the grounds, wary of vagrants and gangs that often congregated around the area, tagging the buildings with graffiti, smoking and dealing in crack, or even on occasion engaging in shootouts that ended in vicious, brutal, and bloody murders. The area had been covered frequently on the news as a place of violence, unrest, and crime, and he knew it well based on their reports, so he was not thrilled about meeting some stranger in the middle of the night in the vicinity. Still, he knew if this man had valuable information to provide on MacGyver’s whereabouts, he was willing to risk his life and his safety to obtain that information. He hoped he wasn’t too late, and he also hoped that whatever had happened to his friend didn’t happen there.
“Over here, Mr. Thornton,” the familiar voice from the phone conversation said.
Startled, Pete looked up, noticing a shadowy, bulky figure hunched over, leaning against the pole of a streetlight. He approached cautiously, unsure what to expect, wondering if he was about to be attacked, hoping that it wasn’t some setup designed to ambush him.
“Just so you know, I have my men positioned all around the perimeter of this area,” he said, his voice shaking slightly in fear and uncertainty. “They are running surveillance and will not hesitate to intervene should something happen.”
“And you are wearing a wire,” the man said, shrugging and smiling. “Standard operating procedure, of course. I understand.”
As Pete got closer, he was able to make out the features of the man beneath the dim lighting. He was tall and corpulent, his shoulders broad and rounded. He wore a black trenchcoat and hat, strands of silvery, straw-like hair protruding from beneath the rim. His eyes were narrow and magnified by the lenses of his glasses, and he sported a neatly trimmed goatee that somehow complemented his wrinkled, weathered face. He smiled cryptically, his expression inscrutable, neither friendly nor untrustworthy. His beady eyes sparkled with lively intelligence, almost mischief, as if he knew many secrets that he was willing to divulge, if only for a price. Pete had encountered many like him before in his line of work, so he waited patiently to see what this man had to say.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said, still smiling his strange, mirthless smile. “I am Dr. Warren.”
“Pleasure I’m sure,” Pete said, looking around anxiously, knowing his men were out there but unsure of their exact positions, confident they would be able to protect him if necessary but hating the feeling of their invisibility, hiding strategically in the shadows. “So, what is this all about? What do you know about MacGyver?”
“I know that he is here, not far from where we stand at this very moment.”
Pete looked around again, licking his lips nervously. “You mean he’s here, in this dump?” He asked. “My God, what’s happened to him? What have you done to him?”
Dr. Warren shook his head. “I urge calm in this situation, Mr. Thornton,” he said. “MacGyver is fine for the most part, at least for the moment. I do not know how much longer he will remain that way, however, which is why we must act most expediently. Also, this is not a dump, as you refer to it. Appearances can be quite deceptive, as I am sure you are aware from all your years and experience in intelligence work.”
“Just…get to the point. What’s this all about?”
Dr. Warren bowed his head respectfully, remaining calm and steady. “I belong to an international organization that specializes in arranging assassinations, coups, mass political riots, revolutions, and upheavals,” he said. “We also perform research into new methods of interrogation, torture, and killing of our enemies who oppose us, which includes your Phoenix Foundation.”
Pete cringed, not liking what he was hearing. “So what does this have to do with MacGyver?” He asked, almost dreading asking the question.
Dr. Warren turned and glanced back at one of the ramshackle, dark warehouses. “Beneath that old, abandoned warehouse is one of our many secret laboratories where we conduct our research,” he said. “We operate underground worldwide to avoid detection, often in inconspicuous areas such as this one, making it much more difficult for our enemies and foreign agents to find us and destroy our vast network.”
“So you’re saying that MacGyver is in there, in your laboratory,” Pete said.
Dr. Warren nodded slightly.
“Why? What are you doing to him? Please, tell me.”
Dr. Warren sighed. “Seven years ago I began the development of a highly sophisticated device,” he said. “It’s a chip, much smaller than one for a computer, that one implants into the brain. Once inserted, the brain can be manipulated, controlled by activating certain areas with control switches. It can do anything from inducing excruciating pain or hallucinations to rendering the victim completely paralyzed or unable to breathe, shutting down the nervous system and all autonomic functions, all in an effort to extract information without physically inflicting pain. MacGyver’s brain has been implanted with just such a device.”
Pete closed his eyes in horror. “But why?” He asked angrily. “What do you want from him?”
“It is not I who want something from him, Mr. Thornton,” Dr. Warren said. “It is one of our agents named Evan. He selected MacGyver to be our first test subject because he has hindered or disrupted our plans on several occasions, or so he claimed that was the reason. It was not until recently that I discovered the truth behind his intentions.”
“Which are?”
“He says that MacGyver killed his sister, and that he wants revenge. He wants to exact punishment. He says that MacGyver never loved his sister and left her, causing her to kill herself in despair.”
Pete thought back to the cemetery, to MacGyver’s story of grief and tragedy and loss. He could never have imagined the unintended consequences of her death, how her suicide would inadvertently lead him into the hands of his enemy, an enemy that happened to be related to the deceased and was seeking vengeance and retribution for being wronged.
“My God,” he said.
“We do not have much time,” Dr. Warren said. “Over the past several days Evan has been stimulating the pain centers of MacGyver’s brain, causing him unimaginable and indescribable pain without a moment’s rest. If it continues much longer, his body will exhaust itself and die.”
“Why are you helping me? What’s in it for you?” Pete asked.
Dr. Warren smiled and shook his head. “I am not a saint, Mr. Thornton,” he said. “After all, I designed the chip that is now slowly and painfully killing your colleague. However, there is a limit to the barbarity I choose to witness, and I wish to put an end to MacGyver’s suffering. I am not entirely inhuman, after all. In exchange, I will provide your foundation with information on our operation. I will also request immunity from my crimes, and I must be allowed to perform the operation to remove the chip from MacGyver’s brain once he is safely liberated from this place.”
“Why?” Pete asked.
“Because Mr. Thornton, I am an expert on the device. I am its designer.”
“Well, you do have a valid point.”
“Also, if any of your doctors attempted to remove it without my assistance, the chip would detonate and kill MacGyver.”
“It’s rigged to explode like a mine?” Pete asked.
“Yes, unless deactivated first.”
Pete shook his head in disbelief, never imagining that technology would progress that far. “All right,” he said. “You will have all your requests granted, provided that you cooperate.”
“I have no intention to do otherwise.”
“How do we get in there? How do we do this?”
Dr. Warren glanced at the warehouse. “The laboratory is not heavily fortified with security personnel, given the secrecy of its location,” he said. “It should not be too difficult. You and your men will remain behind while I enter the facility first.”
“Why?”
“We do not want to attract unnecessary attention immediately,” Dr. Warren said. “Since they know me, they will not suspect anything. I must confront Evan alone and try to get the controls from him to deactivate the device. If he sees you, he will most certainly not hesitate to kill MacGyver. We must approach this operation with the utmost, extreme caution.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Now,” Dr. Warren said, removing a card key from his coat pocket. “This card grants me access to the underground laboratory. I will use it and then give it to you so that you and your men can enter after me. Just remember to tell them to remain behind for awhile until I can tell you that all is clear.”
“All right.”
“Are you ready?”
Pete sighed heavily. “I have no choice but to be ready,” he said. “MacGyver’s life is at stake.”
“How very true,” Dr. Warren said gravely. “All right, we go now. You and your men prepare to follow me, but remember to remain behind.”
“We’re ready, Doctor. Just show us the way.”
***
The enjoyment Evan derived from tormenting MacGyver did not cease or diminish. Instead, it seemed to increase with each miserable howl, scream and wail MacGyver released as the pain continued nonstop, every pitiful sob, pathetic whimper and plea, plaintive cry and whine only seemed to activate Evan’s pleasure centers of his brain as he activated the pain centers in MacGyver’s, watching him as if mesmerized, fascinated and amazed by his power, his control that he was able to exert so effortlessly yet produce such effective, desirable results, MacGyver reduced to nothing but a mere wriggling worm pierced at the end of a bait hook, helpless to defend himself or stop the pain that constantly assaulted him, dying slowly.
“Now you know what real pain is, what it feels like,” he said, smiling broadly. “You will never know an end to it until you die.”
“You will relinquish the controls, Evan,” Dr. Warren said firmly, entering the lab, pointing a gun at him. “You will end this now.”
“What is this?” Evan asked, laughing. “You’re going to shoot me?”
“Unless you surrender and give me those controls. Yes, I will.”
Evan took a step forward, daring Dr. Warren, moving closer towards the weapon pointed at his chest, a menacing glare in his eyes. “Oh no,” he said. “You see, I don’t think you will.”
He punched Dr. Warren and they fell to the floor, struggling for control over the gun, the control device sliding away from them. Evan eventually had his fingers close enough to the trigger to squeeze it, the bullet that expelled from the chamber narrowly missing Dr. Warren, grazing his shoulder. He released a surprised, involuntary yell at both the sound of the blast and the sting of the bullet as it struck him. Down the corridor, Pete and his men waited for a signal. They heard the blast of gunfire.
“Did you hear that? Someone was shot,” Pete said. “Let’s move in now!”
Nodding in agreement, following his orders and his lead, his men ran down the hall, battling lab workers and security guards as they proceeded, shouting and firing weapons of their own to intimidate and subdue those resisting them, swarming the area and containing it. When they entered the main area of the lab, they found Dr. Warren and Evan still engaged in their struggle, rolling around on the floor and grunting fiercely, the gun between them.
“Surrender now! We have this place surrounded!” Pete shouted. “There is nowhere for you to go!”
Evan looked up in response. His momentary distraction provided Dr. Warren with enough time and the perfect opportunity to regain control over the gun. He fired it into Evan’s chest, the bullet striking his heart, killing him instantly. He fell backward onto the floor in a lifeless heap, his eyes glassy and staring, blood pooling around him. Pete stared at him in shock, stunned by his actions. Staggering to his feet, panting heavily and clutching his wounded shoulder, Dr. Warren found the control device and picked it up, examining it.
“This…is what we need,” he said. “It’s the…control device. It does not appear to be damaged.” He pointed it towards the glass enclosure where MacGyver was still screaming and writhing in agony, his face scrunched in pain. He pressed a button, and MacGyver grew still, his cries dying in his throat.
Pete looked on in horror, never seeing his friend suffer so much, relieved to see it end. “All right, let’s get in there and help him,” he said.
“Wait! The barrier is electrified,” Dr. Warren said, pressing a few buttons to render the electrical field inactive. “Now you may go in. I will accompany you. I need to check his vital signs.”
Pete saw the blood leaking from Dr. Warren’s shoulder. “Are you all right?” He asked. “We heard gunshots before we entered the lab. It looks like you were hit.”
“I am fine,” Dr. Warren said. “Do not concern yourself with me. It is a minor wound. We must tend to MacGyver first.”
Pete nodded, knowing he was right. “Eaton, you and your men cover the area,” he said to one of his men. “Make sure we’re secure.”
“You’ve got it, Mr. Thornton.”
As they entered, MacGyver’s body began to convulse violently, his back arching, saliva foaming at his mouth.
“Dear God, what’s happening to him?” Pete asked frantically.
“He is having a seizure,” Dr. Warren said. “Help me turn him on his side, carefully!”
Quickly, Pete and several of his men volunteered to help, gently turning MacGyver to his side, mindful of his continuous, violent jerks and spasms. He made rasping noises and sounded as if he was choking.
“He is aspirating on his own saliva,” Dr. Warren said, alarm and concern in his eyes as he looked at Pete.
“Here,” Pete said, wiping his mouth and removing the obstruction, watching his friend through tears. “Come on, Mac. Come out of this, please...”
Able to breathe again, the seizure ended shortly afterward, much to everyone’s relief, MacGyver’s body relaxing and slumping limply to the floor. Dr. Warren checked his pulse. It was absent.
“He has no pulse and he is not breathing,” he said. “We must resuscitate him quickly!”
“Let me do it, please,” Pete said, sobbing. “I know how. Please.”
Staring at him, realizing what a strong bond the two men seemed to share, Dr. Warren nodded his assent. Pete was prepared to perform CPR when MacGyver gasped and coughed, reviving on his own, his eyes barely open to mere slits, glassy brown eyes showing from beneath his slightly cracked open eyelids, staring blankly, not recognizing anything. His face was pale and drawn and he looked worn and haggard, pain still lining his face as he winced and groaned, mumbling and babbling incoherent, disjointed, disconnected phrases, his eyes wandering around the room.
“It’s okay Mac, I’m here,” Pete soothed, placing his hand on MacGyver’s forehead and smoothing back his unruly, sweat-soaked hair. He felt alarmingly hot to the touch one moment, cold and clammy the next. “Can you hear me, friend? It’s all right now. It’s over. I promise.”
MacGyver closed his eyes, slipping into unconsciousness. Dr. Warren once again felt for his pulse and listened to his respiration. “He has stabilized,” he said. “However, we must move him and get him to the hospital. He needs immediate medical attention. We must perform the operation to remove the chip as soon as possible.”
“But you said…the chip had to be deactivated first.”
“It will be,” Dr. Warren said, showing him the remote control device. “This will deactivate it.”
“Thank God,” Pete said, trembling, wiping away tears from his eyes.
They looked down at MacGyver’s body, glad to find it still once again, no longer writhing in torment or convulsing violently and uncontrollably in seizures. Still, his hands were cramped in claw-like positions, his muscles looking tensed, his body coiled and curled in an unnatural position.
“The human body was not meant to handle that much pain at such a constant rate,” Dr. Warren said sadly. “That he is alive at all after that ordeal is truly a wonder indeed. And all of this was internal, all in his mind. Evan never had to inflict a physical blow to cause harm. In fact, he may have caused more damage this way. MacGyver could have severe internal injuries we are unaware of as yet, and as for his brain…well, there could be damage, despite my best efforts to remove the chip safely and without incident. When we do at last succeed in removing it, I want it destroyed.”
“Is this the only one?” Pete asked through his tears, still staring at MacGyver.
“Yes,” Dr. Warren said in disgust. “I made it. I devoted seven years of my life to its creation. Now, I wish I had never seen it, never made it. Get rid of it, please, so I will never have to think of the horrors it caused again.”
“We will, Doctor,” Pete said. “We will.”
“Thank you. We must move MacGyver now. I do not know how much longer he will remain stable, and time is of the essence if we are to remove the chip before scar tissue develops around it and makes it more difficult to extract, putting his already fragile life in greater peril.”
Pete nodded. “All right, let’s do it,” he said. He looked down at MacGyver again and smiled sadly. “Do you think you’ll be able to do this without causing much of an impact on his brain?”
Dr. Warren looked at Pete soberly. “I am a neurosurgeon, Mr. Thornton,” he said. “Still, I can only do my best. I cannot guarantee the outcome.”
“I understand. Just...do your best for him so that he can recover. Please,” Pete said, choking back more tears.
Dr. Warren bowed his head. “I will try my best,” he said.
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
(and I thought I was a hard taskmistress with my toy- *coughs* I mean, characters...) 
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