MacGyver handed the Airfone back to Dana and quickly strode over to where Dean Sheckley was sitting. The co-pilot looked slightly pale from his earlier ordeal, but he smiled as he saw Mac approaching.

“I hear I owe you my life?” Sheckley asked whilst rubbing at his neck absently.

Mac wasn’t interested in being hailed a hero. “Anyone would have done the same,” he suggested. “Right now, though, it’s your help I need. We think we know who is behind this, and it looks like the guy is onboard.”

Sheckley appeared surprised. “So it’s a real whacko then? Hijacking a plane is one thing, but to have the nerve to go down with it, now that’s something else.”

“Yeah, well, you and me need to do a head count. We’re looking for a passenger named Roger Mariotte. He should have been downstairs, but since we’ve moved everyone up here, and I doubt he’s going to just come forward…”

Sheckley nodded as if he got the picture. “And we don’t know what he looks like?”

Mac shook his head. “Afraid not.”

The co-pilot grudgingly pulled himself up from his seat and took a look around at all the passengers.

“If you gentlemen don’t mind, I have a suggestion for finding your man.” It was the little old lady again, and she was knitting away quite ferociously as she spoke.

Mac guessed it probably helped calm her nerves.

“Oh?” He asked, knowing “Jessica” had been right about quite a few things so far. Maybe she would be again.

“Well…” She pondered. “What about the wuss hiding in the toilet? Surely he should have come out by now unless he’s up to something no good?”

Realization hit MacGyver.

Why couldn’t he have seen this before?

If the little man they’d seen earlier was Mariotte, it all made perfect sense.

Mariotte wasn’t scared in there; he was probably using whatever he had in the briefcase to “remote hijack” the plane.

Mac nodded to Sheckley. “I think she has a point. Wanna help me check the guy out?”
“You got it!" Dean loosened his tie and began heading to the rear of the plane as if he expected to be in a fight.

MacGyver brought up the rear, his pulse pounding in his veins. Was he about to confront the man that had ultimately caused Sam’s injury?

And why?

Maybe he’d know soon enough.

They reached the door and Mac quietly checked the latch. It was still locked from the inside.

“Hey Mariotte, you mind coming out for a while? We got people out here bursting for the toilet…” It was a ruse that he didn’t expect to work, but it never hurt to try your luck.

Mariotte answered with silence.

Okay, you wanna play it the hard way?

“Mariotte, open up this door, or we’ll kick it down.” MacGyver tried the tougher approach. Perhaps the guy really was a wuss.

Still nothing.

“I say we kick it down now!” Sheckley stood back ready and Mac nodded in agreement.

Taking a step back himself, the troubleshooter raised his boot and put his full weight behind the kick.

The door held onto its hinges stubbornly, and he was forced to lash out again. This time it gave with a sickening yelp of metal being warped and bent.

Mariotte was cowering as far back as he could, his wiry hands clinging to his briefcase like it held a treasure.

Sheckley grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the aisle. The co-pilot’s face was a masque of uncontrolled rage. “I should take you up front and make you sit in the pilot’s chair,” he spat. “Maybe a dose of your own medicine is just what you need!”

MacGyver stepped between them, taking Sheckley’s shaking arm and prying it gently away from the other man’s neck. “We’re better than that. We’re better than him.”

Sheckley eyed Mariotte but moved back, his hands still trembling with anger. “Tell that to my dead friend back there.”

Mac understood just how the co-pilot felt. He had the same anger burning into him every time he thought about Sam. But harming Mariotte was never an option.

There was still a chance they could get information, or technology from him to safely land the flight, and that had to be their priority.

MacGyver turned back to Mariotte and yanked the briefcase from his hands. With a flick of his wrist it surprisingly opened, but then, considering what was left inside, it didn’t need to be locked.

Mariotte had destroyed every piece of equipment he’d been carrying, even down to an obvious trigger for the device in avionics. Now, all that remained was a case full of wires, circuits and other electrical components even MacGyver didn’t recognize.

Nothing was going to be repairable, not even if they had a lab – which they didn’t.

“Jessica” noted the look on Mac’s face and put down her knitting. “I take it that means we’re still in trouble?”

There was no time for lies. Not here, not now.

“Yes, ma’am,” MacGyver admitted honestly.

Grant huffed and stood up from his seat. This time, none of the passengers moved to stop him. Maybe they felt like his brand of justice was what they needed now. Although Mac hoped that wasn’t the case. He still needed these people on his side.

“Let me deal with this little runt,” Grant barked. “Then we’ll see who’s in trouble!”

Several of the people sitting nearest to the marshal began to bob their heads, agreeing with him.

The situation could get out of hand quickly if Mac didn’t get control back. He held up a hand. “Violence and the love of it is what started this whole thing. This man, for whatever reason, has rigged this plane to be under his control, and I think we all know what his intentions are. Hitting him isn’t going to change a dang thing.”

Mariotte watched with beady eyes, but didn’t comment. He seemed totally at peace with what he was doing.

MacGyver looked at him. “Why?” He asked, scowling at the little man as he tried to understand his reasoning. “I get your crazy logic behind picking on the plane, but why me? How do I fit into all this? And why make all these people suffer?”

Mariotte still didn’t answer. He folded his arms stubbornly and looked away.

That left MacGyver with only one option – but it wasn’t one he could take without asking the passengers first. He turned to face them, with the co-pilot at his side.

“Okay, folks, you might want to listen up…” Mac cleared his throat. Suddenly it had become very dry. “This man has taken control of the plane, and he’s also rigged it so that if we try and take control back we lose some vital systems.”

“Jessica” raised a knitting needle in the air. “Excuse me young man, but are you trying to tell us politely that there is a bomb on board?”

Mac thought about it, and in real sense he guessed he was. “Yes, and no,” he admitted. “You see the thing isn’t rigged to explode if we touch it, it’s designed to randomly destroy circuits down in avionics.”

“Which in turn could make this bird explode in midair?” Marvin looked scared as he asked the question, and he held tightly onto his son as if it might somehow put an invisible shield around the boy.

“I’m hoping we can make it choose a less destructive option than that,” MacGyver rubbed at his temple. “But I have to admit it could happen. That’s why I’m giving you all the choice before I try anything.”

“And what makes you qualified to go touching anything?” Typically, it was Grant who once again had a lack of trust.

Mac smiled. “Oh, I’d say the number of devices I managed to deactivate over in ‘Nam makes me a pretty good choice.”

The passengers mumbled among themselves for a moment and then “Jessica” poked her needle in the air again. “I say we let this young fella try!”

“Me too,” Marvin agreed.

Around them, the consensus seemed to be the same.

Mac let out a sigh of relief.

They had a chance – it was only a small one, but he’d take those odds.

Walking quickly back over to Dana, he once again took the Airfone and was reassured when Pete was still on the line.” Pete, is the Boeing guy still with you? I think we’re gonna need him.”

“He’s here,” Pete confirmed. “No luck with Mariotte then?”

“Nope, he’s not talking.” Mac glanced across to where Mariotte was sitting. The man was actually grinning at the passengers. “There’s only one option now, Pete. I need your man to talk me through cutting the autopilot, and I need to know exactly how each system is laid out so I can try and figure out what we’re going to lose when this thing pops.”

“We’re ready,” Pete offered. “But, Mac…I have some more news about Mariotte. Nikki’s managed to dig into the case some more, and it turns out this whole vendetta thing was never about you.”

“I could have told you that!”

Pete sounded apologetic. “Mac, it’s Sam. He was the target all along, not you.”

MacGyver did a double take. “Say what?”

“Nikki’s discovered that Sam uncovered what Mariotte was up to whilst working on a story about aviation safety. He was the one that turned Mariotte in after he took photos of the guy making a payoff. You didn’t cause this Mac, so stop beating yourself up about it.”

There was a pause as if Pete was going to say something else, but had been interrupted somehow. Muffled voices followed, and then his old friend was back on the line.

And it wasn’t good news.

“Mac, Nikki just relayed your plan to the authorities…”

“And they’re going to have the police and emergency crews standing by, right?” MacGyver suspected that wasn’t going to be the case, and he was correct.

“Not exactly. The powers that be don’t want that plane anywhere near L.A. while there’s a possibility it could explode in midair or crash. The debris alone falling on houses…”

MacGyver got the picture. It made perfect sense.

But it still wasn’t fair.

“And if we try it anyway?” He pretty much knew what the authorities’ next move would be.

“They’re saying if you try and bring the plane anywhere near the city, they’ll be forced to instruct the air force to bring you down. They think it’s an acceptable loss compared to the possible alternatives.” Pete was obviously pained to be saying any of this, and MacGyver felt sorry to be putting his old friend through so much.

Pete continued with what he’d been told. “We’ve been checking for a landing strip in a less populated area, but so far we haven’t found anything big enough for a 747 close enough given what fuel you have.”

“So basically, we’re all dead.” Frustration was creeping into Mac’s tone. He didn’t really blame the authorities. Heck, if he had to make a choice, he’d probably have done the same.

But giving in now, well that just wasn’t in his nature.

MacGyver took a long deep breath and let his mind clear. There was always an option if you looked hard enough for it. Always something that had been overlooked, or perhaps not considered at all.

Mac put the phone back to his ear. “Listen, Pete, I need to drop the line to make another call. I think I know someone who might have the answer to this.”

“You do?”

Mac didn’t waste time responding. He hung up, and quickly redialed.

The only issue now, was if the person he was calling would even be there. It wasn’t as if he had a very reliable reputation.

Seconds ticked away and Mac could feel himself willing his old friend Jack Dalton to answer.

Eventually, the line clicked and buzzed, before a far too jovial voice announced, “Jack Dalton’s Flying Circus at your service, no stunt too large, no party too small…”

MacGyver didn’t have time to let Dalton blather. “Jack, will you just shut up!”

“Mac, how could you? It took me two days to write that speech…I may even patent it.”

“I think you mean copyright.”

“That too!”

MacGyver almost hung up. Almost. “Jack listen, I need your help, and I’m serious when I say there’s no time for fun stuff. Sam’s life, my life, two hundred lives, are all in your hands…”

Jack seemed to actually like that idea. “Well why didn’t you say so, kemo sabe? What can I do you for?” he still didn’t think MacGyver was serious.

“Jack, I’m on a hijacked plane, and the only way to get back control is to deactivate the autopilot, which will possibly set off a bomb. The authorities can’t risk us flying into L.A. like this.”

Dalton finally took on the gravity of the situation. “You’re not joking, are you?” He swallowed hard. “What do you need me for?”

“We need an airstrip outside the city big enough for a 747. Preferably in an area where no one lives.” MacGyver sounded just as desperate as he was. His nerves jangled as he said the words.

Jack thought about it so long Mac wasn’t sure if the line had gone dead, or if Dalton just didn’t have an answer.

“Okay, Mac, the only place I can think of is an old strip I used to use back in my um…well, less informed years. It’s in the Mojave Desert. The only problem is, it’s so ancient and overgrown at one end, I really don’t know if you’d get a Boeing down there…I mean, the plane I used for my “dealing” was a heck of a lot smaller.”

“Jack, I’ll take what I can get. I’m gonna hand you over to the co-pilot. Tell him the co-ordinates and anything else you can about the place that might help.” MacGyver handed the Airfone to Sheckley as quickly as he could.

While the co-pilot talked to Jack, MacGyver plucked another phone from its slot and redialed Pete. Realizing seconds later that he really should have checked for traps – and yet, there were none.

This isn’t right. Mariotte isn’t dumb enough not to have thought of these things.

Reflexively, he turned to stare at Mariotte.

The little man was manically grinning back, his almost mad expression suggesting he’d lost his mind. Or, that even now, the game wasn’t over.

MacGyver didn’t like the latter option, but had no choice to go with whatever blows fate dealt next.

For now, he put his attention back on the Airfone.

He waited, a lump in his throat as the line too forever to connect. Just how far out could an Airfone work, anyway?

After a few nervy moments, Pete answered.

“Pete, I think we’ve got something. Jack knows of an old abandoned airfield that just might work out in the Mojave Desert. Do you think you can get us the green light to at least try without being shot down?”

“How much time do you have left before you reach the point of no return?” Pete sounded tense, but then, who wouldn’t.

“Not long,” MacGyver answered honestly. “And if the device causes a fuel dump…”

“Mac, just try it. I’ll sort out the details this end. As long as you’re nowhere near any populated areas you should be okay. Can you get me the co-ordinates? I’ll try my best to get some lights out there for you and the emergency services.”

Mac almost relaxed. They had a chance, however small. “I’ll get the co-pilot to relay them to you once he has all the details from Jack. Can you get your Boeing guy back on the line? I’m going to need him one last time.”

“Will do.”

MacGyver kept the Airfone in his hand, but before he went anywhere near avionics again, he had to see Sam. They might both be about to die anyway, so he had to make his peace with the son he had only known for such a short while.

As Mac approached where Sam was propped, the terrible thought that he might already be too late crept into his mind.

Sam was still under the blanket his father had given him, but his eyes were now closed and he looked far too still, too ashen.

For a moment, MacGyver was too scared to even touch his son.

Not now. Not NOW!

Mac dared himself to feel for the throb of blood at his son’s neck, willing it to be there, and was more than relieved when he found the weak and thready thrum of Sam’s pulse.

How long Sam had was anyone’s guess, but then, how long they all had right now was pretty much down to what MacGyver did next.

He hunkered down and looked at Sam, suddenly speechless, even if his son had been conscious.

Eventually, the only thing he could bear to say were four simple words, whispered almost under his breath. “I love you, son.”

MacGyver stood then, determined that it would not be the last thing he ever got to say Sam.

Focusing on the Boeing’s plight, he scooted down the stairs and opened the avionics access hatch back up. Lowering himself down, he dropped the final foot or so and then used the light he’d had from earlier to find his way back to the correct panel.

“Pete, you guys ready?”

“We’re here.”

Mac took down a long calming breath. “Okay, let’s do this. Firstly, we need to try and figure out what these sequences control…” He watched, looking for any clues.

The device seemed to have three colored LED’s which illuminated at random. One red, one amber and one green. These were the three sequences they needed to figure out. As they blinked, Mac watched to see what systems seemed to react. Each time, he relayed anything he thought was relevant to the Boeing expert on the line.

The whole thing cycled every two minutes – not long at all, unless your life happened to depend on the outcome.

“Does that give you any clue what systems we might lose for each color?” MacGyver asked hopefully.

“The red phase isn’t giving up any secrets from what you’ve told me,” the Boeing man admitted. “I have no idea what it will affect if you cut the autopilot on that run. The amber phase will most probably take out landing gear, cabin pressure and I think you’re going to dump fuel. The green phase is throttle control, trim control, and one other we can’t identify…”

MacGyver scowled. “Not the greatest options I’ve ever been given, but I guess it’s better than an out an out explosion in mid-air. Unless we get that when the fuel dumps…”

He watched the sequence of lights changing one last time, wondering if he could even cut the autopilot to land on a specific color. Was he that fast?

Behind him, Mac heard someone drop down into the bay with him. He looked over his shoulder to see Sheckley joining him.

“Everything set up topside?” Mac asked.

Sheckley nodded. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Did you manage to figure the device out?”

“Some.” MacGyver bit his lip. “We have one sequence with no answers, one we pretty much lose control of the plane, and one were we lose fuel, cabin pressure and landing gear.”

Color seemed to drain from the co-pilot’s face as he was given the news. What he had expected was anyone’s guess, but it obviously was something better than what they’d ended up with.

The Boeing guy came back on. His tone was low and somewhat somber, as if he didn’t think they really had an option that would work. “It’s not my call, but, if I were you, I’d take the amber phase.”

Mac nodded to himself, and the man he couldn’t see the other end of the line. “Yeah, I was thinking that.” He looked to Sheckley. “You better go tell the passengers to expect the oxygen masks to drop once the cabin pressure falls. Make sure they know what to do, then get in the cockpit ready to take control once I get the autopilot off.”

Sheckley bobbed his head in affirmation and then vanished into the darkness and out of avionics.

Mac watched him go and then turned back to the device, and all the systems it was attached to. He tugged out his penknife and several other items from his pocket, including a paperclip, some gum, and a small flattened roll of duct tape.

Even if he didn’t need them, the items were somehow familiar and comforting in these situations.

“Okay, let’s take out the autopilot and set this thing in motion…” MacGyver spoke into the Airfone, and then placed it on the floor ready to work.

The Boeing expert quickly launched into his instructions, pointing out the correct circuits to remove and which wires to cut. “…once the board is slotted out, you’ll see three wires behind it. You’ll need to cut the brown one and then join it to the red the other side…”

MacGyver examined everything he needed to do. “And the final part?” He asked.

“There are two connections you’ll need to bridge somehow – this is the point where you’ll need to time your move with the device sequence being on amber.”

Mac looked at his goodies, deliberating. Should he go for the paperclip, or the gum paper? In the end, he chose the clip. He was now ready to start the “procedure”.

“Right, this is it. I’m going for it.” MacGyver began by slotting out the boards he’d been told, his palms warm and sweaty.

Then he took his knife and quickly sliced through the brown and red wires, joining them. Somewhere, he could have sworn he heard a clicking. He swallowed hard, hoping the device hadn’t already been triggered.

Tense seconds passed, but the plane didn’t alter course, or the cabin pressure change. He nodded to himself.

Time to watch the sequence and make his move.

The colors seemed to linger on each far longer than he’d remembered, and it seemed like amber would never take its turn. The device ran through red and green three times, as if it knew it was about to be beaten.

Then, finally the amber LED illuminated, and MacGyver pounced, bridging the connections with his impromptu tool.

From somewhere in the cabinet, there was a pop and a hiss, followed by the smell of something overloading.

To confirm it, the Boeing suddenly banked to the right and MacGyver was forced to grab the fuselage lagging to stop himself from falling.

Someone in the cabin above let out a small yelp of fear, galvanizing Mac into action.

He needed to get topside before all the air was gone.

Mac scrambled to the hatch, grabbed the edges and hauled his body through the hole.

Around him, people had grabbed the oxygen masks from the ceiling and were clutching them to their faces in blind panic.

MacGyver snatched one of the masks and took several deep breaths before moving lithely back up the stairs. As he raced down the aisle, his eyes locked onto Sam’s seat.

Dana had taken the one next to Sam and had done her best to make him secure and safe. Even now, she held an arm across him, making sure he didn’t roll as the plane lurched.

MacGyver nodded his thanks to her, and it was all he could do not to stop and be with his son as he moved past.

The overhead cabin lighting flickered as he reached the cockpit, and then, after a moment’s pause it dulled into emergency lighting mode.

The muted glow made the cabin seem surreal somehow, like it was all a dream he would soon wake from.

Then the Boeing yawed again, reminding MacGyver that Sheckley was upfront, and probably desperately needed his help to fly the plane.

The security door had been left open, and Mac dived straight into the cockpit to find Sheckley in his seat, doing his best with the controls.

He moved to pull the dead pilot from his perch to try and help, but Sheckley quickly pulled off his own mask and gestured to the base of the seat. It was still electrified. Killing the autopilot and engaging the device had done nothing to quell its deadly legacy.

“You need to find a way to disable that thing,” Sheckley looked between is controls and MacGyver. “I can’t fly this bird on my own if we lose the engines!”

Mac nodded. If the fuel dumped fast enough, they’d be out before they reached the landing site, but if they could keep enough altitude they still might be able to glide the thing in “dead stick” like shuttle pilots did after re-entry.

But that would only work if he could actually climb in and help.

And right now, he couldn’t even touch the pilot’s prone form without frying too…

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