American
Dream
By
Rocket
Episode
8.7: Part Three
“That’s
Carlos in the middle. See there’s something under
his coat there, making it stand out like that? He’s
carrying a sword. What is this, the Middle Ages?”
Kate popped the disk out of her computer and loaded another.
Beside her, MacGyver stared at his own copy of the first
photo.
Ahmed
Involved with a gang.
The South Side Samurai.
Zia had been right…
“With these photos, we’ve got enough evidence
to move on this gang. Most of the time they’re real
careful, but we can get them off the streets for sure
this time.” Kate sounded cheerful. “We can
use your program to clean up the background, work out
who’s in the window up there as well as the three
we’ve got right here. You recognise any of them?”
MacGyver frowned at the image. Was the youngest kid buying
the package of drugs from Carlos? He couldn’t see
any money in his hand. Was the kid taking them to pass
on to someone else?
“MacGyver? You listening to me?” Kate stared
at him for a moment longer, then shook her head. These
think-tank types were an odd lot. Give her ordinary, L.A
cops any day, at least you knew what they were thinking.
To MacGyver, the kid seemed sad, too young to be wearing
gang colours and carrying drugs, with eyes that looked
a thousand years old. Ahmed, off to the side, looked uneasy.
Carlos was focussed on the kid, the same expression that
MacGyver had seen on the previous photo – cruel
and arrogant. The tattoo on his neck stood out above the
collar of his coat, displaying his allegiance.
“Earth to MacGyver! Are you receiving me?!”
Kate stood next to him with her hands on her hips. “See
anyone you know there?”
MacGyver blinked. Should he tell Kate he recognised Ahmed,
or deny all knowledge? He knew he was a rotten liar and
she was watching him close...
“Kate, do you really believe that these kids are
beyond saving? Totally beyond?”
“Carlos? Yeah.” Kate stood behind him, looking
at the picture. “He got into this as soon as he
could. We’d caught him skipping school, shoplifting,
tagging and so on way before that. Never sorry, vicious
temper, took a swing at a patrolman with a switchblade
when he was nine. Said his uncle gave it to him, and having
arrested the uncle for assault, I believe him.”
“What about the others?” MacGyver’s
voice was quiet, and Kate looked closer at him.
“Maybe, maybe not. Most of these kids know what
they’re getting into. You know one of them, don’t
you?”
MacGyver squirmed in his seat.
“If I did, would you be willing to let me talk to
him before you go in and bust them? I guarantee that this
kid isn’t bad.”
“The little kid is one of your Challenger’s
Club hard luck cases, isn’t he?” Kate folded
her arms and stared at him.
“Uh, not exactly. It’s complicated...”
“Look, I know you think you can save everyone, MacGyver,
but this gang isn’t like the kids you’ve dealt
with before. Most of them are hard-down mean ones, the
next generation of lifers, you know?”
“Yeah, Kate, I hear you, but –“ MacGyver
stopped as Kate carried on over him.
“The leaders of this particular warband are real,
honest to God psychos, MacGyver. They carry swords! Who
does that? Guns are a dime a dozen in this neighbourhood,
they’re normal, no matter how much we may hate that,
but carrying a sword is some kind of twisted honour thing
for them. You only get respect in this gang if you’ve
killed someone with three feet of cold steel!” Kate
stopped, biting back on whatever she’d been going
to add. MacGyver watched, shocked at the depth of her
fury.
“Mac, one of the South Side Samurai cut a patrolman
last month. Four of them cornered him and they tried to
execute him. The doctors stopped counting how many stitches
it took to put him back together. These ‘kids’
are the bad ones, they’re the ones who’ll
turn into the next...” She stopped, gripping the
edge of the desk hard enough to whiten her knuckles.
“The next Dr. Zito.” MacGyver finished for
her. Kate nodded.
“I can’t let that happen, MacGyver. I can’t
take the chance that you trying to rescue him tips the
gang off to our plans and they scatter. I won’t
lose Carlos for the sake of one kid who knew damn well
what he was getting into.” She shook back her hair
and glared at him. “We’re setting up the bust
for tomorrow. After that, you can try and find your hard
luck case. But if we get him first, he’ll stand
for his crimes. Understood?”
MacGyver nodded, but didn’t dare meet Kate’s
eyes.
MacGyver
spent the rest of the day analysing camera footage. He
tried to call Zia when he went out to get a sandwich,
but she didn’t pick up the phone. By the evening,
he was desperate. He made a detour on his way home, driving
through South Side Samurai territory to see if he could
find Ahmed, but night was soon upon him and he had to
give up the search.
Arriving home, he called Zia again, letting the phone
ring and ring. He was just about to hang up when she answered.
“MacGyver?”
“Yeah, it’s me, Zia. Listen – you were
right about Ahmed and he’s in real trouble. Is he
there now?”
“No, he said he’d be back later and went out.
MacGyver, I’m afraid for him. What’s going
to happen?” MacGyver could hear the fear in Zia’s
voice.
“Zia, can I come over? I need to talk to him when
he gets back.” MacGyver listened to the line hiss.
Silence. For a second he wondered if she was still there.
He opened his mouth to speak…
“Yes.” She said, her voice trembling.
MacGyver scribbled down the address, grabbed his keys
and headed out. He picked up Chinese food and drove to
South Central, parking near where he’d found the
vandalised camera. Zia watched him arrive from an upstairs
window, coming down to meet him and locking the door securely
after letting him in. MacGyver climbed the scuffed stairs
to her third floor apartment, shabby but clean.
“When will Ahmed get back?” MacGyver dished
out food onto two mismatched plates, shutting the boxes
on Ahmed’s portion to keep it warm.
“He said around eleven. He washes up at a restaurant
and that’s where he should be tonight, but I’m
afraid he’s gone out with the gang instead.”
Zia pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, looking
very small in the threadbare room.
“Does he always get back when he says he will?”
MacGyver set the plates on Zia’s small table, pulling
out her chair for her.
“Yes. He’s a good boy.” Zia stared at
the food. “This is kind of you.”
MacGyver waved his fork with a smile, around the last
mouthful.
“I was getting some anyway. Besides, if I eat all
this, I’m going to get fat!” He glanced over,
pleased to see a tiny smile tug at the corners of her
mouth.
“America is so strange.” Zia stirred her noodles
and held one up, watching it slide off her fork. “I’m
grateful that we’re here, but I still feel like
I don’t belong.”
MacGyver nodded, the sensation familiar to him after his
time living abroad with the army.
“For instance, there are plants and animals living
here, in places I didn’t think anything could live.
All this concrete…”
“Oh, I don’t know, you don’t have to
drive too far to find wild places. If you go out past…”
MacGyver stopped, watching Zia laugh, then blush. “What
is it?”
“I don’t drive! I daren’t learn, the
freeways terrify me!”
MacGyver laughed too.
“Oh, come on – it can’t be nearly as
frightening as driving in Afghanistan! Between the state
of the roads, the local bandits and the chances of running
over a stray mine, give me the 405 freeway any day!”
Zia smiled, tracing the pattern on the edge of her plate
with her finger.
“I thought you were going to die, you know?”
She looked up at him. “The day Ahmed brought you
to us.”
MacGyver nodded.
“Me too. I don’t remember much, just falling
and Ahmed helping me onto the horse. Then I remember waking
up in your house.” He looked down, lining up his
fork with the edge of the table and straightening the
takeout box. “I didn’t mean to kill Khalil,
you gotta know that.”
Zia stared down at her hands.
“I know. I hated him so much, but even so…”
When she looked up, her eyes were bright with tears. “He
won’t hurt anyone else now.”
MacGyver sighed, knowing she was right.
Zia laid a hand on his arm. MacGyver looked up, meeting
her eyes and seeing kindness there, she didn’t condemn
him for killing Khalil. Kindness, and... something else.
Zia got up and stepped round to MacGyver’s side
of the table. She tugged his hand gently and he stood
up. Placing a hand on the back of his neck, Zia pulled
him down into a kiss.
MacGyver tangled his hand in her long hair, returning
the kiss. The spark they’d both felt half a world
away was still there, still bright despite the years passed
since then. Zia slid her hands up his back, holding him
close. He looked down at her, dark eyes questioning. Zia
smiled up at him.
“I missed you, MacGyver.”
* * * *
MacGyver
woke to a dark, unfamiliar room and the insistent beep
of his watch alarm. He turned to the warm weight lying
on his arm, seeing Zia still asleep next to him. He raised
his other arm in front of him, the glowing hands on his
watch showing it to be a little before ten.
“Hey,” He brushed Zia’s hair off her
face gently, smiling as she stirred awake.
“Hey,” She returned the smile, tightening
her arm around his waist.
Zia held onto MacGyver for a moment longer, then sighed
and rolled away. They dressed in silence, both thinking
about Ahmed and the mess he’d got himself into.
A
little after eleven, they heard the street door slam and
footsteps on the stairs. Zia took a deep breath, settling
herself at the table and folding her hands tightly in
front of her. A key scraped in the lock and a tall young
man let himself into the room, turning to lock and bolt
the door behind him. He pulled down his hood, shrugged
off his long coat and turned around.
MacGyver’s first thought was how different Ahmed
looked. Even allowing for the fact that he’d grown
from a child into a young man, there was a hardness and
a wariness about his face that hadn’t been there
the before. With a bandanna knotted over his head, chains
and bootstraps, Ahmed looked every inch a ganger.
“Hello Ahmed,” MacGyver smiled and started
to stand up. “How’re you doing?”
Ahmed stared back at MacGyver, his expression shocked.
Without speaking, he turned back to the door, picked up
his coat and left.
“Ahmed?” MacGyver crossed to the door, just
in time to see Ahmed pulling his hood up as he rounded
the first turn on the stairs. Ducking back into the apartment,
he grabbed his own jacket and set off in pursuit.
“Ahmed! Wait up!” The last sound MacGyver
heard as he ran down the stairs was Zia sobbing.
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