Uninvited
Guest
By
Rocket
Episode
8.16: Part Four
“No
way, Pete,” MacGyver folded his arms and stared
at his boss.
“Who did he intend to poison, Mac?”
“Well, you,” MacGyver ran a hand through his
hair, “But...”
“And who answers all the awkward questions if he
gets away with all the satellite research…?”
“OK, you do.” MacGyver leant forwards on the
edge of Pete’s desk, “But what are we…?”
Pete stood and MacGyver backed up a step, taking his hands
off the desk. For a blind man, Pete had a disturbingly
direct stare.
“This man broke into MY research facility, he tried
to steal research that I’m responsible for and then
he tried to kill ME. While I know that I’m nobody’s
first choice for combat duties this days, I will not go
home and wait for news that he’s been captured in
my absence.” Pete paused for breath and the silence
stretched. “I won’t get in your way, Mac,
but at the very least, I owe this guy a punch in the mouth.”
MacGyver looked at Pete standing straight and angry in
the silent office. Knowing him for so long as a friend
as well as a boss, it was easy to forget that Pete had
been a field operative back when MacGyver had been just
a taxi driver, recently returned from the army and drifting,
unsure where his life was headed. Pete’s competence
and air of effortless command had drawn him in then, and
MacGyver smiled now, shaking his head.
“I guess you do. OK Pete, you’re in…”
* * * *
7716BB3 leaned back and stretched, wondering whether heroes
in action films ever got cramp. That American policeman
crawling around the air ducts in a grubby vest, for example....
He was, he reflected, very tired of air ducts. His thefts
had been discovered, his attempt on Thornton’s life
had been thwarted and his plan to simply walk out of the
front door using his faked ID had been ruined by a very
effective building lockdown. He had enough food collected
from the break room vending machines to lie low till the
Americans concluded that he’d gone after all and
lifted their security lockdown, but he did need to get
into the server room once more to let his contact know
he wouldn’t be able to meet them to hand over the
goods. Failing to turn up for the meeting without letting
his contact know would be signing his own death warrant
the moment he set foot back on home ground.
Unreliable spies were no asset when there were plenty
of eager patriots ready to fill his shoes… It was,
after all, how he’d come to have this job in the
first place.
He shifted again in the junction of the shafts leading
to the server room, trying to relieve the ache in his
back. At least now he was armed, even if his weapon was
an improvised one.
He really was very sick of air ducts…
* * * *
MacGyver looked up at the server room ceiling. He’d
been hidden behind the cupboard for about an hour now,
waiting for the spy to make his appearance. They’d
locked the building down tight, so he was pretty sure
the spy hadn’t got away. He’d placed a call
to a computer expert friend and between them, Kate and
Willis had locked the computer system down too, removing
email access from all terminals except this one. Kate
had managed to recover some of the message sent between
the spy and his handler and was sure the spy would send
another to confirm his exit arrangements before leaving
the building.
Pete and Randy sat in the room across the hall, listening.
Pete had allowed employees to leave quietly, making sure
each ID was double checked before allowing anyone out.
It had been done gradually over the afternoon to try and
avoid spooking the spy with a mass exodus.
Now they were the only ones left in the building. Beside
him he could hear Randy breathing, feel his warmth and
smell the egg sandwiches that he’d had for dinner.
He’d always dismissed the idea that blind people
had developed better senses to compensate for the loss
of sight, but now he understood. It was less about increased
sensitivity and more about paying closer attention to
what was already there.
He tensed at a quiet creak from the ducts above.
The spy was on the move…
MacGyver looked up, the maze of pipework in the ceiling
lit only by the blinking lights on the computers. The
ventilation shaft panel nearest the wall flexed and then
straightened, creaking on the bracket. The next panel
dipped, then the next. MacGyver pulled his feet up, ready
to spring. The ventilation panel was lifted away, gloved
fingers visible through the mesh, Green computer light
crested upon a narrow nose and a tuft of short hair as
the spy looked down into the dark room. MacGyver froze,
holding his breath. The spy finished his checks and the
face disappeared, replaced moments later by a pair of
feet in soft soled shoes. The spy lowered himself down
through the vent and MacGyver rose silently from behind
the cupboard, launching himself forwards, grabbing the
legs and pulling him out of the ventilation. There was
a gasp and the spy let go, his weight bearing them both
to the floor. MacGyver held on but the spy bucked and
kicked, landing a hard blow to MacGyver’s head.
MacGyver lost his grip and sprawled backwards, tangled
in the cables under the desk. The spy dove in, stabbing
at him with something MacGyver couldn’t make out
in the dim light. MacGyver rolled to one side and swept
the spy’s feet from under him. The spy fell forwards,
the object in his hand sparked like electricity against
the back of the bank of computers and the room went totally
dark.
* * * *
Pete heard the snap and fizz of something electrical,
a bright light filtered through the fog of glaucoma and
then everything went dark. He heard the low hum of computers
powering down and the rattle of the air conditioning stopping.
He felt a rush of air as Randy stepped past him and got
up to follow him.
* * * *
MacGyver reached out blindly, grabbing a thin, strong
arm in a soft sleeve. The spy pulled away from him and
punched him hard. The punch glanced off MacGyver’s
hip and he reached forward again, this time grabbing a
handful of hair and landing a punch of his own. He felt
something warm gush over his hand and heard the spy swear.
The spy trod heavily on MacGyver’s stomach and scrambled
over him, heading for the door. MacGyver grabbed his ankle,
pulling the spy back and heard something clatter across
the floor. The spy kicked himself free and MacGyver heard
the door open. There was a thud and MacGyver heard Randy
yell. There was a sound of ripping cloth and Randy yelled
again, this time in pain.
Pete
paused, one hand on the doorframe. He could hear fighting
in the server room, the distinctive rush of breath of
someone getting winded and the rattle of something metal
tumbling across the floor. The smell of burned electricals
filled the hallway as the door opened and there was a
brief scuffle. Randy yelled, hurt, and Pete stepped forwards
into the darkness with both hands raised. The figure who
ran into him was thin, just as Pete remembered, and very
strong. Without thinking, Pete grabbed two handfuls of
the spy’s sweater and spun him as hard as he could
into the wall behind him. There was a dull thud and a
groan and Pete smelled blood and the acrid tang of sweat.
The spy tried to pull away, but Pete clung on, sliding
a foot between the spy’s legs and hooking his leg
from under him the way his army PT instructor had shown
him years ago. They crashed to the floor together, just
as the emergency generators kicked in and the corridor
lights flickered on.
MacGyver scrambled up just as the overhead lights came
on. Around him the computers came to life. He ran for
the doorway, seeing first Randy kneeling on the floor
with blood all over his sleeve, and then Pete fighting
with the spy. Pete had the upper hand, the spy was pinned
underneath him on the floor and MacGyver was just in time
to see Pete feel for the front of the spy’s shirt,
lift the lolling head and deliver a brutal punch to the
mouth.
The spy collapsed unconscious and Pete clambered to his
feet using the wall as support.
“Mac?” Pete turned his head sideways.
“Right here Pete,” MacGyver grinned, “Fantastic
punch!”
“Boy, I’d forgotten how much it hurts doing
that,” Pete grinned, shaking out his hand.
“Oh I know it, “MacGyver took Pete’s
arm and guided him to the chair, taking a flattened roll
of duct tape from his back pocket, “Randy, you okay?”
“Yeah, no problem,” Randy dabbed at the cut
on his arm, “You want me to call the cops?”
“Yes, please,” MacGyver rolled the spy over,
taping his wrists and ankles securely. He checked the
spy for weapons, finding a folding knife much like his
own. He stood and went back into the server room, stooping
to pick something up.
“What did you find?” Pete leaned forwards
as MacGyver returned and sat next to him.
“Gadget...” MacGyver turned the item over,
picking at the duct tape that held it together until it
fell apart in his hands, “I think he made a taser
from a barbeque lighter and a Biro…” MacGyver
traced the wires the spy had threaded through the pen
casing and reassembled the device, pushing the lighter
button and leaning back as a fat spark shot out of the
front of the pen with a vicious crackle . “Nice
job…” He looked at the comatose spy with grudging
respect.
“Boy, he really is like you,” Pete shook his
head, “That’s a scary thought.”
MacGyver nodded, opening the blades of the spy’s
utility knife one by one.
“Yeah, he really is.” He snapped the knife
shut and turned to Pete, “So how did you manage
to lay him out like that…?”
“Ah,” Pete leant back and chuckled, “Well,
partly he ran straight into my arms, but mostly because
my old army PT instructor used to make us practice Judo
blindfolded so that we’d get used to feeling our
opponent’s movement instead of waiting till we saw
it. We all hated doing it at the time, but Boy am I glad
that I practised it now!”
“Pete, you never ceased to amaze me,” MacGyver
clapped his friend on the shoulder and stood up just as
the police arrived at the top of the stairs, “Teach
me sometime…?”
“I’d be delighted…” Pete grinned
up at MacGyver. “I’ll even go easy on you…!”
The
End
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