| After
the Wall
By
Rocket
Episode
9.6
Part Four
The
assassin drew a knife from his pocket and advanced. MacGyver’s
eyes widened behind his glasses and he looked around as
he backed away, reaching down to lift a dustbin lid off
its bin.
“I’m sure this isn’t necessary!”
MacGyver dodged as the man stabbed at him with the knife.
“Whatever your problem with Gunther was –“
another stab made him dance sideways, “- it has
nothing to do with me!” He held up the bin lid as
an improvised shield and the knife screeched across it.
The assassin swore in German and spat at him over the
bin lid.
MacGyver pushed the bin lid with all his strength, hoping
to rush the man backwards as he had before, but the assassin
slipped past his guard and kicked him behind the knee.
MacGyver fell to his knees with a yell, and rolled just
in time to catch the knife on the bin lid as the man slashed
at his neck. MacGyver kicked out, knocking the assassin
over backwards, but the man sprang straight up and leapt
onto him. His knife caught in the folds of MacGyver’s
overcoat and the assassin tugged at it, breathing hard.
MacGyver
twisted his hips to dislodge him and smacked the man’s
head with the bin lid, but the assassin just shook his
head and lunged for MacGvyer again with blood running
down his face. MacGyver lost his grip on the bin lid and
it rolled away, landing beside some sacks of coal propped
against the wall.
The
assassin grabbed him by the hair and poked his thumb at
MacGyver’s eye, only to come up against the lens
of his glasses. The edge of the frames cut into MacGyver’s
nose but the assassin lost concentration for a moment
and MacGyver rolled them over, kneeling on the assassin’s
chest. He looked around for a weapon but saw nothing he
could use.
The assassin slashed at his face and MacGyver grabbed
the hand holding the knife, banging it against the edge
of a hatch in the street. One door of the hatch had been
left open and the knife flew out of the assassin’s
hand and bounced off the open door, clattering down into
the darkness of the coal chute below.
The assassin bucked underneath MacGyver’s weight,
driving a knee into his ribs. MacGyver coughed, winded,
and grabbed the assassin by the back of his collar, dragging
him to the hatch and stuffing him in head first. For a
moment he braced his arms and legs inside the chute, but
MacGyver upended a bag of coal over him and then slammed
the hatch shut, dragging another sack on top to hold it
shut.
MacGyver stood up, looking down at the coal chute and
breathing hard. Furious German echoed up out of the chute
and MacGyver shook his head, glad for once that he didn’t
understand. Turning up his collar, he hurried away.
* * * *
He caught the bus and the train without incident, and
ignored the stares of his fellow passengers until he caught
sight of his reflection in the train window. He hurriedly
combed his hair with his fingers and scrubbed at the blood
on his neck with spit and a handkerchief he found in the
pocket of the overcoat. As he pulled the handkerchief
out, a hard-edged object came out too, falling to the
floor of the train. MacGyver reached down, picking up
a mobile phone. He pressed a button and the screen lit
up. The call history showed the assassin had made a call
shortly before Gunther had been shot. MacGyver stowed
the phone in his jacket, and zipped the pocket shut. Willis
could take a look at it when he got back.
* * * *
Sitting back in the aeroplane seat, MacGyver breathed
a sigh of relief and allowed himself to relax. The scrape
on his neck stung, his ribs ached and his hand was sore
where he’d picked out the splinters of broken glass.
He took off his glasses to wipe a smudge off one lens,
but then frowned, holding the glasses up to the overhead
light. What had looked like a smudge up close was actually
the assassin’s thumbprint. MacGyver folded the glasses
and stowed them in an airsickness bag, placing the bag
in the inside pocket of his jacket. He pulled the band
from his hair, stuffed the overcoat under the seat and,
without meaning to, drifted off to sleep.
* * * *
The following day, MacGyver typed the last of his report
and sent it to Pete. He leaned back in his chair, stretching
his back and rubbing the bruises on his ribs. He’d
given the glasses and phone to Willis, who’d been
amused at MacGyver’s unorthodox fingerprint collection
method, and promised to find out all he could. He was
considering going out for a sandwich when Seeley came
into his office.
“Hey Mac, welcome home!” Seeley took a good
look at MacGyver, at the cut on his nose and the knife-mark
on his neck.
“Don’t say anything!” MacGyver frowned
as Seeley grinned and shook his head in mock sorrow.
“Get some training in, man – that’s
embarrassing!” Seeley chuckled.
“Eh, I’ve had worse playing hockey.”
MacGyver shrugged.
“Your Vietnam guy, Hawkins –“ Seeley
sat down and handed MacGyver a file. “He turned
up dead this morning. Official story is a disagreement
between prisoners that got out of hand, but…”
Seeley tailed off, shaking his head. “I dunno. The
way the report reads, I don’t like it.”
“Damn,” MacGyver picked up the file, flipping
to the warden’s report. “Hawkins is –
was – a nasty piece of work, but even so…
Oh. Yuck.” He read the rest of the report. “No,
even he didn’t deserve that.” He closed the
file and put it back on the desk. “You’re
right, there’s no way that was just a fight.”
He shook his head.
“No way.” Seeley drummed his fingers on the
file. “Talking of dead guys, any idea who did Gunther?”
“Not so far, but Willis is on it.” MacGyver
leaned forwards, tapping at his keyboard. “Although…”
The computer whirred and clicked. “He was telling
me about something called ‘Project Atlas’
when it happened. Maybe the sniper heard or saw what he
was saying and shot him because of it. I dunno.”
“Maybe.” Seeley moved his chair to MacGyver’s
side of the desk and waited for the computer to finish
searching for the information. Or maybe they just shoot
returning traitors on general principles. OK, here we
go:” They leaned forwards, reading the information
on the screen.
Project Atlas had investigated the possibility of spreading
chemical weapons and airborne diseases onto target populations
by air, using small planes to deliver the payload in spray
form. At the time, materials limitations had made delivery
of chemicals too difficult, and biological weapons too
hard to contain, and the idea had been shelved.
“Gunther reckoned someone here was picking up where
Atlas left off.” MacGyver shrugged. “He pretty
much told me he still had a network of friends in low
places, so I guess he could have been right.”
“Maybe.” Seeley looked doubtful. “Mac,
this is a nasty idea and all, but it’s not exactly
breaking news. In the 1940s, bio-weapons were pure science
fiction, but now? Every tinpot government on the planet’s
got a stash of them in the basement.”
“True.” MacGyver sat back. “Terrible,
but true. Gunther was sure enough to go back to Germany
intending to kill the original project leader over it
though, and now Hawkins - who got caught stealing weapons
delivery components – gets killed. Maybe there’s
something in it after all.”
“Got’em!” Willis stuck his head round
the door and waved a sheet of paper. “The last call
he made was to the sniper, and the one before that was
to someone we can’t trace. His boss, most likely.
Your sniper is Olga Schneider – an ex-Stasi agent
now working as a gun for hire – and your knife-man
is Klaus Muller. He’s ex-Stasi too, but he hasn’t
hit the headlines recently.”
“I wonder who hired the guns this time?” Seeley
frowned.
“No way to tell.” Willis shrugged. “Note
on Olga’s file says she’s only for hire if
she agrees with you that the target deserves killing,
so I guess Gunther was into something she hates.”
“Or knew about something she’d been told must
stay hidden.” MacGyver tapped his pen on the table,
thinking. He looked from Seeley to Willis and back again.
“I don’t like this.”
“What’s to like?” Seeley folded his
arms. “Is Muller dead now?” He caught MacGyver’s
indignant look and nodded. “Of course he’s
not dead. What was I thinking…” He studied
the computer screen. “Let’s hope they don’t
come after you again. After all, they know you know about
Project Atlas now.”
“That sounds bad.” Willis looked over his
shoulder as though he expected to see an assassin creeping
up the corridor towards him.
“Yeah…” MacGyver frowned, looking at
Olga Schneider’s grainy image and then at the Project
Atlas information on the screen. “Yeah, it does…”
THIS
STORY WILL CONTINUE IN ‘MEAN STREETS’, AIRING
IN APRIL 2018
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