What could he do?

Rolling onto his back, MacGyver scanned the part of the room he could see from underneath the table. Standard classroom stuff. Wooden chairs. Scratchy brown carpet. Maths supplies. Spare exercise books. Pot under the sink to catch the drip from a leaky pipe. Paint. Science cupboard.

Science cupboard.

MacGyver crawled under the tables to the cupboard, opening the door just a crack to see inside. Hopefully Rembrandt hadn’t seen the door inching open. MacGyver found magnifying glasses, bottles of food colouring, mirrors, vinegar and tape, all of which he shoved to one side. His hand closed on a small pot at the back of the cupboard.

Baking soda. He stuffed it into his pocket.

Crawling to the sink, MacGyver carefully pulled the brimming pot towards him. He carried it back to the bomb, moving as slowly as he dared to avoid spilling, and, one dribble at a time, poured the water into the crystals. When the dish was full, he pulled the baking soda out of his pocket and poured some into his hand. Very delicately, he sprinkled a pinch onto the water, then another. How much would he need to neutralise the explosive? He couldn’t remember… He reached out a shaking hand and eased the first pen out of the dish. When nothing blew up, he eased the second one out, then heaved a sigh of relief.

Now he just had to find a way to get out without Rembrandt seeing him, and quite possibly shooting him. Murdoc had said that Rembrandt was a good shot and never travelled unarmed. Then he had to get Overton and the kids to safety without any of them getting shot either, capture Rembrandt and get back to the hospital to secure Murdoc.

He was going to need some help.

Looking around, MacGyver spotted the dressing-up box in the corner of the classroom. He crawled across, pulled out his knife and cut a hole in the side of the cardboard carton. He pulled the costumes out and discovered a pair of brown curtains folded at the bottom. Spreading them over himself, he laid flat and crept along the floor, pulling himself along with just his fingers and toes. Hopefully the brown curtains would disguise him against the carpet enough that Rembrandt wouldn’t see him. He crept out from under the last table, the hair on the back of his neck prickling.

Three more feet

Two feet

Turn the corner and…

MacGyver stood up, pulling the curtains off himself and stretching. He ran down the hall and found the office, dialling a number with shaking fingers.

“LAPD.”

“Yeah, hi. I need to report a bomb…” MacGyver screwed up his face and waited for the dispatcher’s reply.

“Sir, are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure! It’s at Stevenson Elementary School and it’s…” MacGyver became aware that he was yelling and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

“Calm down, Sir. Give me the details and I’ll get a team on the way.”

“NO! If you send the bomb squad, the sniper will start shooting, probably at the kids!”

“Sir? Sniper? What…”

“Sniper! Assassin! Lone gunman in the building opposite! You know – SNIPER!”

“Calm down, Sir.” MacGyver gave the phone a murderous look. He glanced out of the office window. The kids were playing outside and Overton was doing a good job of looking like everything was as normal.

“Sir?” MacGyver gripped the receiver, deciding that he would not shout at the dispatcher, however slow he sounded.

“There is a bomb. I have defused it. There is a yard full of kids I can’t evacuate. The bomber is in a building opposite, probably with a gun trained on their teacher. If the bomb squad turn up, someone is going to get shot. Send someone to get hold of the bomber. Please. Now.”

There was a pause.

“Officers are on the way. Sir, may I ask how you came to be involved in this?”

MacGyver took another deep breath and deliberately loosened his stranglehold on the receiver. This was going to take some explaining…

* * * *

“And in other news, LAPD’s finest have just arrested a man on suspicion of attempted murder. They were tipped off by a concerned citizen and have the man in custody, so our Long Beach listeners can go about their business, knowing that the police have it covered. And now the weather…”

Murdoc switched the radio off and his eyes darted around his room, weighing up possible escape options. He had no clothes except an open-backed hospital gown, no weapons, no means of escape, very limited movement in his legs and he was in the most pain he could remember since falling off the rock face…

He grinned to himself and clenched his toes, feeling sensation returning. What would MacGyver do?

Or, perhaps a better question, what would HE do that MacGyver would never contemplate doing?

* * * *

Two hours later, MacGyver found himself listening to a completely different phone ring, willing the owner to pick up the call.

“Pete! Yeah, it’s me. I know I’m supposed to be in the office, but something came up.”

The guard folded his arms and gave MacGyver an unfriendly stare.

“Me too. Thing is, I’m in Long Beach Police Department right now, and…” MacGyver ran a hand through his hair. “Very funny, Pete! Matter of fact, yes I am, and I could use your help!”

There was a pause while MacGyver listened.

“Yes, really!”

Another pause.

“It’s real complicated, Pete. What? No! Of course not!” MacGyver listened again, then nodded. “Thanks Pete, I owe you.” He replaced the phone on the trolley and gave the guard a relieved smile.

“All sorted, complete misunderstanding, and…” The guard glared harder and turned away, wheeling his phone trolley back to his office. MacGyver watched him go, shook his head at the man’s rudeness and sat down to wait for the cavalry.

* * * *

“Hey Mac! Wake up.” Nikki stood outside the cell with her arms folded.

MacGyver opened one eye, then scrambled to his feet.

“Nikki! Boy, am I glad to see you.”

“They’re putting the paperwork through now. Should be out of here any time. So, tell me what you’ve been doing with your morning, while I’ve been slaving over a hot desk…”