And all MacGyver could think off was to keep the person in front of him away from Sam. The earlier memory of LA4177 had stayed with him, and this time he didn’t intend to let anything happen to his son.

The intruder sensed his hesitation, and appeared to mistake it for fear. Diving forwards, he or she attempted to take out Mac with a lunge to his chest.

Mac dodged the attack, narrowly missing getting sliced by his opponent as he edged backwards.

The move almost worked, but then he felt the edge of the couch on the back of his legs and knew he had nowhere left to go.

The bad guy knew it too and pounced, and within seconds the two were a tangle of limbs, each one fighting for dominance.
Mac grabbed at the intruder’s arm, and just managed to catch their wrist before they had chance to slice at him again. They were strong, stronger than he’d anticipated.

The assailant countered with a knee to MacGyver’s stomach, and he reflexively let go in favor of doubling up. It was what the bad guy had expected, and he or she raised the knife once again.

Spotting the glint of steel, Mac reached out, not for the blade or its owner, but for the camera Sam had left on the table next to the couch. He pulled it close to him and fired off the flash, straight in the eyes of his enemy.

Whoever was attacking dropped back, a gloved hand clawing at their eyes as the sudden, all encompassing light momentarily blinded them.

Mac heard another noise as he dropped the camera down, and realized Sam had finally been roused. Within seconds, the light came on, filling the room with a welcome magnolia glow.

“Hey!” Sam spotted the blacked-out intruder and moved to give chase, but his foe ducked out of the door so fast they could have been on the Olympic team.

MacGyver took a cue from his son and raced after them anyway, only to see the person stumble into a blue ’87 Camero and speed away, straight through a red light.

“Did you get the license plate?” Sam asked as he breathlessly joined his father.

Mac shook his head. The plate had been covered in mud – probably on purpose, but given the lighting under Sam’s apartment, there was a good chance he wouldn’t have been able to make it out anyway.

“Nope,” he admitted dolefully. “But at least we know for sure now there is something to this legend. Why else would someone be willing to kill over it?”

“I guess I opened up a can of worms with this one, huh?” Sam rubbed at his hair, and then looked down, realizing with a start that he was standing on a street corner in just his boxers.

“I think,” MacGyver answered with a cheeky grin, “that you better get back inside before you get arrested for streaking…”

Sam winced.

* * * *

Santa Luisa Mission
The Next Day…

MacGyver yawned as he tucked the Jeep neatly in front of the mission. What with fixing the locks on Sam’s apartment and giving yet another statement to the local police, he hadn’t really gotten much sleep. That, and the fact that Sam’s couch was the most uncomfortable thing he’d ever used as a bed – and he really had tried out a lot of impromptu cots in his time.

“So how was the couch?” Sam questioned with terrible timing.

“Oh, about as good as sleeping vertical on a rock face in howling minus forty winds,” MacGyver teased.

Sam nodded knowingly. “That good, huh?”

Mac popped the 4x4 in neutral and pulled on the parking brake. “Oh and then some. If we ever catch the bad guy on this one, I think we should make him sleep on it as a form of torture.”

The pair climbed out, and MacGyver slid on his sunglasses. It was going to be another good day, and he hoped their luck was going to be as positive as the weather.

“So you think Rob might have confided in this guy, Doc because he used to be a street person too?” Sam asked as they jogged up the steps to the mission entrance.

“That’s kinda what I’m hoping. Otherwise we’ve just hit a very big brick wall.” MacGyver pushed on the mission door and noted it was open. It wasn’t unusual for Doc to leave it that way sometimes as it was more welcoming to the homeless, but today, it instantly prickled at Mac’s senses.

Sam appeared to notice the change in his dad’s demeanor and his voice dropped an octave. “Something wrong?” He whispered as Mac cautiously moved inside.

Mac cocked his head, he was listening, eventually, he answered. “I don’t know…something just feels off.” He moved further inside, finally coming to the office where he expected to find Doc. Sam followed in silence.

MacGyver pushed gently on the open door to find a room that looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Paperwork was strewn all over the floor, and the desktop lamp had been smashed as it had been tossed aside. Even the desk was upturned as if the Incredible Hulk had done a number on it. It wasn’t a pretty scene.

“Doc?”

Mac’s query was rewarded by a groan from behind the inverted desk and he quickly pushed into the room to find Doc lying on the floor. It was a carbon copy of the scene with Old Rob – except this time it was inside.

“Sam! Ambulance. Now!”

Sam scooted past his father and began rummaging in the mess on the floor until he came to the phone cable. He followed it to finally find the actual handset under a pile of messed up manila folders. It was still working, and he quickly dialed 911.

MacGyver kneeled by Doc. The older man had been stabbed in the stomach and was clutching at the wound while trying to wheeze out a few words. “Tried to fight him off…but my asthma…”

Doc pointed under the desk leg, and Mac quickly realized that this time the bad guy had dropped his knife. It was an ornate looking blade, with initials carved into the ivory handle. Fresh blood covered the steel, making it look what it was – a thing of evil.

Mac didn’t focus on it. For now, Doc was more important.

Sam dropped to his side with a towel and offered it up. “Police and ambulance are on their way. Is he..?”

“He’s gonna be fine,” Mac snapped, and then looked up apologetically at his son. When Sam nodded he understood, Mac got to work with the towel, using it to try and staunch the flow of blood until the paramedics arrived.

Doc gritted his teeth as MacGyver pressed down. “They know about…Denizen,” he coughed out. “I didn’t want to tell but…”

“It’s okay,” MacGyver soothed. “We can worry about later.” He looked down as blood seeped through the towel and onto his fingers. Not again…not Doc.

Doc shook his head. “Denizen knows.”

MacGyver wanted to ask questions, to know exactly what information Denizen had, but Doc was too weak, and from outside there was a squeal of tires. He hoped it was the ambulance, rather than a police cruiser, and was thankful when two paramedics rushed into the office.

Mac stepped back out of their way, his own face paling as he looked down at the red sticky stains on his fingers.

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“He’s gonna make it, you know,” Sam said, his tone suggesting he had real conviction in what he was saying, even if his dad didn’t.

“Why Sam? Why all this killing over some stupid legend?” MacGyver leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes for a second. When he reopened them he’d regained some of his composure. “Doc said something about Denizen knowing, and that he’s told the killer.”

Sam shrugged. “Denizen?”

“I’ve seen the name before,” Mac explained. “Back at the library there was a photo of Albini and some of his friends. Denizen was on it.”

“Then I guess once the cops are done with us, it’s back to the library?” Sam glanced across the room at the knife still lying innocently under the table. “You know, I can’t help but think I’ve seen a knife like that somewhere before. Maybe we can find something on that there too?”

MacGyver’s eyes locked on the blade, scrutinizing it. Then his attention was taken again as two uniformed officer’s rushed into the office, followed by a suited man he assumed was a detective.

It was going to be another long day, not counting any library trip.

* * * *

Abbot Kinney Memorial Library
502 S. Venice Blvd.

MacGyver let Sam do the driving for the rest of the day. He didn’t feel much like having to deal with L.A. traffic after washing off Doc’s blood and explaining himself for two hours to the local police department’s finest. Add to that the lack of sleep lately and he was feeling pretty beat, and pretty fed up.

This whole thing was spiraling out of control. What had been a simple mugging had quickly degenerated into one murder, two attempted murders, and all for a necklace that probably didn’t even exist.

At least the medics had said Doc had a fighting chance, and that was better than the fate Old Rob had succumbed to.

“Dad?” Sam’s voice broke him from anymore sobering thoughts, and the pair hastily exited the Jeep and entered the library before it had chance to close.

This time, Mac knew exactly what he was looking for and steered Sam back to the book with the photo of Denizen in. The problem was, there was no more information about the man in the whole section.

“Maybe we could find out more back at my place by doing a search on my computer?” Sam offered helpfully. “Or Pete might have something in Foundation records?”

Mac shook his head. He wasn’t about to wait that long. Rearranging the section behind them was a haughty looking woman with a blonde bun. “Excuse me, ma’am, but could you point us in the right direction?”

The librarian turned and smiled, and any preconceptions MacGyver might have had about her melted. She was much prettier from this angle, with baby blue eyes and a complexion of silk. “How can I help?”

Mac showed her the book. “We’re looking for more information on this guy?”

“Ah, that’s Art Denizen the movie mogul.” She nodded knowingly. “Anyone who knows about Hollywood “back in the day” knows Art!” You need the next section to the right. Third shelf down.”

MacGyver smiled at her and then headed to the section she’d indicated. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Sam grinned and fell into step at the side of his dad. “She was kinda pretty for a librarian, huh?”

Mac couldn’t argue. Instead he took the next right and almost walked straight into Andy carrying an armful of books.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon,” Andy giggled. “Are you stalking me, or just trying to steal my project?” She teased.

Mac reddened a little and then gestured to Sam. “This is my son, Sam. We’re here to do a little more research, but it looks like you beat us to it.”

Andy shrugged and perched herself on a nearby table, setting her books down. “Not really. I haven’t found anything new.” She looked at Sam. “Except for your son here…”

Sam grinned, and Mac sensed he had taken an instant shine to Andy.

While Sam began to chat to his newfound friend, Mac put his attention back on the book shelves. Someone had to find Art Denizen, and flirting wasn’t going to get them anywhere.

Doc shouldn’t be having to go through all this. Not after what he’s already been through with Father Jim’s murder…

In his mind, MacGyver could still see Doc on the office floor. The whole thing was just snowballing, and instead of helping, Mac felt like he was just being sucked into one big avalanche.

He ran a finger along the shelf in front of him until he finally found a section with a few books that referenced Denizen. Plucking them out, Mac put them on a free table and sat down to read.

According to the first article, Denizen was an entrepreneur who briefly set up his own production company way out in the hills away from the regular Hollywood studios. He was rich, and had an abundance of land to play with.

MacGyver moved on to a second book. This one focused more on the man than his movie making. It suggested that Denizen was a playboy who mingled with Hollywood’s finest, as well as the not so finest mafia mobsters. In short, Denizen was a buddy of Bobbi Albini.

According to the book’s print date, the first edition had only gone out two years previously, and at that time, Art Denizen was still alive and living in the hills near Malibu.

Mac glanced up to see Sam grinning at Andy as they chatted. He closed the book a little too loudly and then coughed. Finally, Sam seemed to get the message and tore himself away to join his dad.

“I’m guessing you found something?” He asked, his eyes straying back to the girl at the other table every few seconds.

Mac tapped the top book. “Art Denizen is still alive and living near Malibu. If anyone has answers…”

“It will be him,” Sam agreed. “I guess we’re off to Malibu then, huh?”

“Can you tear yourself away?” MacGyver teased.

Sam thought about it. “Sure, after I do this.” He wandered back to Andy who was now engrossed in a book of her own. Borrowing a pen from the next table, he scribbled down what Mac assumed was a phone number and offered it to the girl.

Aww c’mon…they’ve only just met! The idea hit Mac that this was definitely “like father like son,” and he cringed inside. Kate had said she wouldn’t introduce them until they’d both grown up, but would they ever?

He picked up the books and replaced them on the shelves. By the time he’d finished, Sam was at his side, and he was smiling mischievously. “She’s kinda fun.”

“Ya think?” MacGyver rolled his eyes. “We did come here to work ya know?”

Sam nodded. “And I did. While I was talking to Andy I spotted a picture in her research. It looked just like the knife the guy stabbed Doc with.”

“And?” Mac probed as they made their way back to the Jeep.

“It was thought to be the weapon Ricky Furfaro used on his hits, although he was never caught to prove it.”

“But how does that link back to Bobbi Albini?” MacGyver raised a brow as he climbed inside the 4x4.

This was a multi-layered puzzle, and he didn’t know how to put all the pieces together. At least, not yet, but hopefully Denizen would be able to help in that department.

* * * *

Art Denizen’s Mansion
Somewhere near Malibu…

Finding and getting access to Art Denizen had been much easier than MacGyver had expected. After a few words with Denizen’s very stuffy, stereotypical butler, Mac and Sam had been allowed into a very small study where Art sat in a huge leather chair.

Denizen wasn’t at all what MacGyver had pictured in his mind – even though he’d seen a photo of the man in his youth.

Now, Art was a small, grey-haired man with a bony frame and a short beard. His hands were clasped in front of him, and they appeared gnarled and ravaged by the passage of time.

“Thank you for seeing us,” Mac said gratefully as he and Sam entered the wood paneled room. “Name’s MacGyver and this is my son, Sam.”

Denizen nodded affably and steepled his arthritic fingers in front of him. “Stuart tells me you’re here about Bobbi Albini?” He gestured with his left hand that they should take seats.

“Yes sir.” Mac nodded and pulled out a chair he was sure belonged in a museum. It was definitely antique and probably worth a fortune, just like its owner. Sam did much the same.

“We think we found Mr. Albini,” Sam explained. “He was living as a street person.”

Denizen nodded sadly as if he’d known all along. “I’d heard that, but then, it was just a story. I was never sure. Given how smitten he was with Angelina, though, and the breakdown after her death…”

“The thing is,” Mac pushed. “We think Bobbi, or Rob as he was known these days, was murdered. A good friend of ours was attacked too, and we think both incidents are connected.”

Denizen shrugged and poured himself a tea from a silver pot sitting on his desk. He gestured, offering his guests one, but both Mac and Sam declined.

“Bobbi was mafia. I suppose there are still people out there who might hold a grudge about some of the things he got up to.”

“We think this is more about the legend,” MacGyver admitted. “Story has it that Bobbi left a house behind he’d bought for Angelina, and it was full of valuables. Maybe someone intends on finding it the hard way. That is, if it ever really existed?”

Art laughed sardonically, as if he knew something ironic he wasn’t telling. “Yes, Bobbi really did have a house for Angelina, and it was definitely…different.”

“You mean a mansion full of antiques and jewelry?” Sam seemed to be getting excited about the prospect now that they finally had someone with answers. He sat forward on his chair, eyes twinkling.

Denizen paused, sipped his tea and then momentarily closed his eyes. When he finally opened them again, he answered. “Yes, that house exists.”

MacGyver noted the old man’s tone, and the way he’d worded his response. That house exists, instead of the house exists. Just what exactly did that infer? He was about to ask, but Sam was on a roll.

“Where is it, do you know?” Sam pushed, excitedly.

Art set down his china cup looked intently at the people in front of him, as if he were deciding their worth. Eventually he nodded. “The house is on some property out here I still own. I secretly let Bobbi build there away from the madness of the city. I suppose that’s why it’s never been found by so-called treasure hunters. When Bobbi vanished, I left it as a memorial for both Bobbi and Angelina, untouched by time.”

“I hate to ask, but given that two people have been attacked, and one killed over this,” MacGyver apologized. “Would it be possible for me and Sam to visit the mansion?”

Denizen plucked a gold pen from his pocket and began scribbling on a note pad in front of him. His hands worked slowly, making spider-scrawl, but eventually he passed Mac a set of directions and a fob with keys.

“There are those who say the mansion is booby trapped,” Art warned with a down- turned brow. “It may just be part of the myth, but…”

MacGyver nodded as he rose from his chair. “We’ll be careful, don’t worry. And thanks for everything.”

As they reached the door, Mac turned back as one last question hit him. “Mr. Denizen, is Ricky Furfaro still alive?”

Art’s head dropped low, as if he were remembering something from long ago, something bad. When he looked up, his eyes had lost the spark they’d had when Mac and Sam entered. “No, Ricky has been dead some twenty years. He was stabbed in the back with his own knife, or so they say. The weapon and killer were never found.”

Mac nodded his thanks again, and he jogged back out to the Jeep with Sam in tow, hoping that the Albini mansion would have the answers they sought.

* * * *

Albini Mansion
The Denizen Estate
Malibu

The driveway down to the mansion was overgrown and rocky, glimpses of the concrete below only visible in short patches where weeds had not taken hold.

Sam pulled the Jeep up on the rut-filled road just short of the main house, and just stared.

MacGyver climbed out, took off his sunglasses and did much the same.

The place was huge, and in its heyday it would have had ivy and vines growing all over the façade making it look imposing. Now, the same greenery had engulfed the house, making it appear dead and lost in time.

The windows on the lower floors were boarded over, making the portent of doom in the air seem even more present. It was like walking straight onto the set of Psycho – except this was no movie studio, this was the real deal.

After scrutinizing the main house a little longer, Mac moved to the rear of the Jeep and retrieved a flashlight. He tossed a second to Sam.

“I thought the electric and water hadn’t been cut off,” Sam asked, testing the batteries in his light by flicking it on and off a few times.

Mac peered at the main door to the mansion. “Do you want to risk going in there without one of these things?”

“Err, nope,” Sam acquiesced. “Better take my camera too.” He leaned into the Jeep’s foot well, grabbed the camera Mac had gotten him for Christmas and slung the strap over his shoulder.

MacGyver pulled the key fob from his pocket and walked to the huge oak entrance. He licked his lips, then slid in the key and turned. As expected, the door groaned as it swung open, making the thirties Universal horror movies proud.

Mac ignored the sensation that was flooding over him and slowly moved inside. Sam followed with a weak whistle of amazement.

Cobwebs hung from every corner and orifice, and the cold and smell of must were overwhelming.

A huge central staircase of wood dominated the center of the entrance, complete with dangling chandeliers covered in dust and grime.

MacGyver shivered.

Somewhere behind him, Sam chuckled. “Man, this is straight outta Scooby Doo!”

Mac looked over his shoulder and scowled. “Ya think?”

Before Sam could answer, the massive oak door creaked, moaned, and then slammed closed behind them, sending spirals of dust everywhere.

“Oh yeah…” Sam mouthed as he walked up to the entrance and put a hand on the door. He turned and pushed at the handle, but there was no movement. Hunkering over, he examined the lock. Something clear had been forced inside.

Something like glue – and very fast setting.

“It’s jammed solid with something,” Sam admitted with a frown. “No way even you could pick that lock.”

MacGyver sauntered over and took a peak, shining the beam from his flashlight into the opening. There might be options if he thought about it long enough, and could find the right materials.

But, right now there might be other exits they could use.

He spun around, letting the light in his hand cut through the gloom the boarded up windows created.

Under the massive staircase was a door that probably led to a cellar or basement – which in turn might have doors to the garden.

Mac walked over and pushed on the door. It opened with ease, not even a sound. That in itself made the hairs on the back of his neck tingle. This place was full of surprises.

Swallowing hard, MacGyver dipped his flashlight at an angle to illuminate the concrete stairs into the depths below.

And formed in the dust and grunge on each and every step were footprints – recent ones.

Mac turned and looked at Sam, who was staring at the prints with a look of concern. “Guess we’re not the first here.” His face twisted in worry.

Sam agreed. “Yeah, but are we locked in this place with the killer?”

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