Author's notes: This story combines the universes of my TS/MacGyver series with the TS/Mag7:ATF story, Refuge. It takes place about a year after Refuge and Charming the Hawk (March 2001)
For the Mag 7 fans unfamiliar with my TS/MacGyver series, I suggest two options: 1) Read the first five stories in the series (The Maze, Control, Coatlicue, Ares Bugle, and Heirs to a Nightmare) first. They are on Wolfpup's site at:http://wolfpupsden.skeeter63.org/cindycombs.shtml. These stories develop the relationship between Blair, MacGyver and Sam, and events from several of these stories will be mentioned. Or, 2) read my little spoiler blurb at the end of this story. While I would recommend option #1, I realize that some of you may not be interested in the other series. However, if you select option 2 and decide to read the stories listed above later, be aware that some of the events within the five stories will be spoiled.
In addition, a few events from episodes in Black Panther Production's Cascade Virtual Tales are mentioned. Evermore's In Absentia from season six is the stepping stone for this story, but also included are Shallan's It's Not Just Academic, Emerald's NOW He's a Cop (both season 5), and my Brother Born for Adversity (season 6). CVT can be found at:http://www.blackpantherproductions.org/
Also, Jack O'Neill and Daniel Jackson of Stargate SG-1 will put in an appearance. They were 'introduced' to the TS/MacGyver characters in my story Weardians and Witans, and some references to will be made to the story. It can also be found at Wolfpup's page.
I would also like to thank several people. Sealie, for all her patience and beta'ing; Rona, for helping me bounce around ideas; Toni Rae, for our talks about switching stations and the country's power grid; Zadra, for keeping my characters in character; Malu and Kerensa, for all their support and encouragement; Wolfpup for her beta'ing, and Elizabeth and Lady Angel for posting it.
Please send any comments to spacecloud@juno.com
Enjoy the ride.
Disclaimer: Most of characters are not mine. I'm borrowing them out of deep reverence, affection and respect. I will accept only personal fulfillment, and no monetary gain. If you do sue, you will not get much and I will send over my Black Lab mix, who will stare at you pathetically for hours and probably con you out of all your food.
Please do not reproduce, copy, or otherwise use any part of this story without permission from the author.
Rated PG-13, mostly for language. Trust me, these guys aren't saints.
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// "I'm sorry, Sam. I'd really planned to be there by now."//
Sean A. Malloy, otherwise known as Sam, could hear his brother's regret over the phone line. "But you and Jim are flying in this afternoon, right?"
//"Yeah, now that Kincaid has been put away forever."// The exhaustion in Blair Sandburg's voice spoke volumes as to just how rough the federal court case had been on him. Of course, having to stop the following terrorist attempt to free the newly convicted felon hadn't been easy, either. //"Just that by the time everything was wrapped up, I missed the early flight. You going on ahead?"//
"Yeah, I need some time to unload. Just as long as you make it later, Indy."
//"Trust me, I am not missing Mac's birthday this year, especially after missing his 50th last year. All the lawyers and D.A.s can go to hell."//
Sam laughed out loud, picturing his peace-loving brother putting his words into action. "Okay, I'll have a fire going in Harry's cabin by the time you get there."
A low mumble was barely audible over the connection. //"Jim asked how are the roads?"//
"The rental rep I just talked to said they're fine. It's been a couple of days since the last storm. Just remember to take the back way to avoid avalanches."
//"Will do. So there wasn't any trouble with you getting the Jeep?"//
"Nope. Though it's still on your credit card. I'll have to pay you back."
//"Don't worry about it. Jim's got a rental reserved for us when we get there. We should be to the cabin by dark, which gives us lots of time to catch up. Mac's not due in until tomorrow, right?"//
"He better show up tomorrow. Sounds like he's still working that bombing case in Denver."
A snicker sneaked across the lines. //"He'll make it. He wants to hear about India and your latest go round with your editor."//
"Not to mention your latest adventure with Kincaid."
//"Oh yeah. I'm sure Mac would've loved to have punched him in the nose again, or at least his lawyer. Anyway, I'll tell you all about it when I see you. And if there is any sign of Murdoc —"//
Sam barely prevented a shudder. "I'll make a mad dash towards civilization."
//"You better. See you later, Olsen."//
"Bye, Indy." Smiling, Sam hung up the phone and walked out of the terminal. It was going to be a great weekend.
"STRATTON!"
A trim figure with chestnut hair and dressed in winter fatigues barely kept from flinching. Drawing on every layer of façade he had, the man currently known as Eric Stratton turned. "Sir, yes, sir!" He gave the large militiaman a sharp salute.
"Where have you been, Stratton?"
Knowing the real answer could get him killed, Stratton faked surprise at the question. "I was hooking up that radio like you asked, sir." His soft southern accent put special emphasis on the 'sir'. He knew the so-called Colonel Kelly liked the respect.
"Was that all you were doing?"
"Yes, sir." The man managed to look both puzzled and concerned at the same time. "Was there something else I should have been doing?"
"Well, Stratton, that's all we asked of you."
Then another voice growled, "But you're not really working for us, are you Stratton?"
'Stratton' spotted another man step up behind the first. He had wondered if the newcomer would be trouble. Staying in character, he replied, "I'm sorry, sir. Who else would I be working for?"
"How about the ATF, Stratton? Or should I say, Agent Standish?"
Shit. "A. T. what, sir?" he asked, trying to look dumber than the rest of the mentally challenged crew. Behind his back, he pushed the button on the remote he held.
Then all hell broke loose. The communications building — or 'ramshackle shed' in the agent's mind — blew up. As fire and debris engulfed the clearing, ATF agent Ezra Standish ran for his life.
"... By vacuuming the powder off the tray, it can't set off the main explosive when you break into the case." MacGyver demonstrated using the suction tool he had carefully inserted into the caulking around the glass.
ATF agent Nathan Jackson nodded as his sharp brown eyes followed every move. Usually, it was his partner, Buck Wilmington, who handled the bombs. However, Buck was needed on their western slope case, so the task had fallen to him. It wasn't something Nathan liked to do. He hadn't had to defuse bombs since the army. Learning new tricks from someone who was obviously a master made him feel better, though. "Then you have to cut the wire leading to the screw attached to the trigger?"
"Right," Mac nodded as he demonstrated. He looked up at his pupil. "Think you want to give it a shot?"
Nathan sighed then nodded. "I want to make sure I can do this in case we come across any more of this maniac's handiwork. People's lives could be at stake."
MacGyver gave him a warm, understanding smile. "Then let's give it a go."
Agent Josiah Sanchez watched from the doorway. A life-long student of human nature, he noted the natural teaching style of the Phoenix expert. MacGyver led Nathan at just the right pace for his friend's comfort. The lanky man's intent, yet relaxed, pose indicated that he had extensive skill in the deadly field. Intelligence shone from the light brown eyes while the gray in his blond hair testified to his years of experience. Josiah was looking forward to sitting down with the man and swapping a few stories. It would be nice to talk with someone of his own vintage for a change.
A light tap on his shoulder brought his attention back to the hall. Their boss, Chris Larabee, stood behind him with a grim expression. "How's Nathan doing?"
"Appears to be doing pretty well." Josiah knew instinctively that Chris wasn't worried about Nathan. "What's wrong?"
If possible, the blond man dressed in black looked even grimmer. "The guys have lost contact with Standish."
Josiah pursed his lips, blue eyes growing concerned. "Do you think he's in trouble?"
"It's Ezra. Either he's wrapped all of Kelly's men in a big red bow for us, or he's neck deep in shit."
Josiah nodded, agreeing with the assessment. While all of their team had an affinity for trouble, Ezra did tend to go to extremes. "What do you plan to do?"
"I'm heading over. By the time I get there, Vin should have his initial recon done or JD may have found Ez's emergency tracker. Meanwhile, I want you and Nathan to keep working this bombing case. You're close, and I'd like to nail the bastard before he does any more damage."
Shifting on his feet, Josiah reluctantly agreed. "I'd rather be up there with the rest of you."
Chris nodded in understanding. "I'll keep you posted."
Sam quietly cursed to himself as he pulled into the tiny mountain town. "Candles. How in the heck did I forget candles?" With a sigh, he parked the navy blue Jeep Cherokee in front of a small general store. His brown eyes automatically scanned the quiet street as he slammed the door. The town was barely more than a handful of buildings. Apparently, Pine Tree wasn't included in the prosperity of 'white gold' that the ski resorts further south enjoyed.
Upon entering the store, Sam began searching for the candles. The walls and three small aisles were stuffed full of everything from milk to fishing gear. Making the task more difficult was the suspicious stare from the large man behind the counter. Sam's skin was crawling by the time he spotted a small packet of thin blue candles.
As he approached the counter, the man stated, "You're not from around here."
Sam forced himself to remain calm. "No, but my grandpa's cabin's near Ouray. I'm heading there." The glare didn't ease much. The young man was beginning to wish he had Blair's partner, Jim Ellison, with him. The former covert ops captain could have given the jerk a run for his money in a stare down competition.
Finally, the man rang up his purchase. "Dollar, fifty."
Sam counted out the change, deciding not to mention that the price on the packet was 99 cents. He only wanted to return to the jeep as fast as he could.
As the man slid his money off the counter, he leaned into Sam's personal space. "And a piece of advice: Stay down around Ouray." Sam stared into the man's eyes evenly for a moment before turning to the door.
Once outside, Sam's uneasiness grew as he noted the street was no longer quiet. Several men in white and gray fatigues now roamed the wooden sidewalk. They appeared to be searching for something. Deciding he really didn't want to know what was going on, Sam walked to the jeep. He ignored the hostile stares while noting he should call Sheriff Connor when he got to the next town. Opening the passenger's side door to the back seat, Sam came face-to-face with a man in similar fatigues who was scrunched down on the floorboard.
The man stared up at him calmly, though his face was white with tension. "I hate to impose," he whispered softly in a deep southern accent. "But I am an undercover federal agent for Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, and I require discreet transportation. My life is in your hands."
Fighting back any reaction, Sam tucked the candles into his pack on the seat. He casually closed the door and walked back to the driver's side. He turned the engine and put the jeep into gear, totally ignoring the stranger hiding behind him as he drove. Once the town disappeared behind a curve in the rearview mirror, Sam softly called out, "We're clear."
Releasing a long-held breath, the other man pushed the pack out of the way and pulled himself into the front passenger's seat. "I am forever in your debt, Mr....?"
"Sam Malloy."
"Mr. Malloy, I am Agent Ezra Standish. I would most appreciate it if you could drop me off at the nearest sheriff's office."
Sam chuckled. "No problem. I was just thinking I should tell Sheriff Connor there was something strange going on in that town."
Ezra studied his traveling companion intently. "You are acquainted with the county sheriff?"
"Friend of my Dad's. My great-grandpa's cabin's between here and Ouray, and my dad often goes fishing with Connor." Sam gave the agent a sideways look. "You really an agent?"
"Yes, but I fear I have no identification. A drawback to undercover work."
Sam sighed. He was going to have to go with his gut instincts, which told him the man was an agent in deep trouble. Besides, the name Standish sounded vaguely familiar. Sam couldn't place it, but he didn't think it was bad.
"So, are you a former resident of this locale?" Ezra pried.
"No. I grew up here and there, and my job keeps me moving. Right now, Dad lets me leave my stuff in his apartment in L.A."
Ezra nodded, absorbing the information the lanky young man had provided. "And what exactly is your employment, Mr. Malloy?"
"It's just Sam, and I'm a photojournalist."
Ezra closed his eyes a moment. "So the price of my liberation is a front page account of my bungled assignment?"
Sam flashed him a reassuring smile. "No. I do mostly international humanitarian stories." Noticing his new traveling companion did not look convinced, he added, "Besides, I couldn't be objective on a U.S. law enforcement story. My brother's a police detective, so I know how hard that line of work can be."
A small smile finally slipped across the agent's face. "So you would side with the enforcers?"
Sam's deep chuckle finished breaking the tension. "Much to the dismay of my editor." He covertly glanced at the agent, noting the tears in his white jacket. "Are you hurt?"
"Only my pride." Ezra sighed and shook his head. "I thought I had successfully infiltrated the suspect group until my identity was unexpectedly revealed this morning."
Sam frowned as he put the pieces together. "Militia?"
Ezra slowly nodded. "Are you familiar with militias?"
"Mostly stories from my brother. One abducted him a few years ago and conveniently cracked a couple of his ribs while he was sick with the flu." Sam's face darkened with memories. "It took Blair several months to get back up to speed after that."
"The reason for the abduction?" Ezra inquired softly.
"They were using Blair to get at his partner. Plus Blair had outwitted the leader a few times, so he wasn't exactly their favorite person."
"Ah," Ezra nodded. "Such a dastardly technique has been used against my teammates. Cowardly, but unfortunately effective."
"Yeah, that certainly describes the jerk. Still glad Dad broke that damn leader's nose when they captured him."
Ezra smiled as he checked the road behind them. "I suspect I would enjoy your father's company."
Sam chuckled. "Yeah, Dad most certainly has his moments." Then his eyes widened. "Oh, oh."
Ezra turned around to spot the two large trucks blocking the road well ahead of them. Men with shotguns stood in front of the vehicles. "It would appear our subterfuge has been exposed."
"That's one way of putting it." Sam searched their surroundings as he slowed the Jeep, praying they hadn't been spotted yet. Noting a snow and dirt covered track, he pulled a sharp right.
"Any idea as to where this road leads?" Ezra asked as he grabbed the seatbelt.
"Nope. But there's a topo map in the back seat."
Ezra leaned back to snatch the item as the Jeep rocked on the rugged trail. "I see you come prepared."
"Something I've learned the hard way."
Captain Simon Banks watched as Jim Ellison approached, carrying his boarding pass and carry-on. His best detective team had had a difficult couple of weeks. There was a weariness in Jim's eyes, which was only a fraction of the exhaustion Simon had noticed in Blair Sandburg's. The attempts to discredit Blair's integrity by the defense had been hard on both men. Thus, the trip to Colorado to spend time with Blair's family was a perfect way for the partners to unwind. "Where's Sandburg?"
Jim glanced over his shoulder. "Still at the counter."
"Trouble?"
"Brunette."
"Should have known." Simon glanced around, spotting Sandburg still chatting. "Well, I probably should head back."
"Thanks for giving us a lift." Jim patted his friend on the shoulder.
"Well, there is one thing I wanted to mention."
Jim lifted an eyebrow. "We're on vacation, Simon."
"I know," the captain growled. "Unfortunately, the militias are not."
It was easy to follow Simon's train of thought. Jim could feel his stomach clench. "Has there been threats?"
"No. But you and Sandburg, especially Sandburg, were key witnesses in Kincaid's trial. It's a good bet that the Sunrise Patriots and a few of their friends may hold a grudge." Simon then gave Jim a smirk. "Besides, you're going to have three MacGyvers under the same roof. You keep telling me how Malloy and Mac are just as good at attracting trouble as Sandburg."
"Like nails to a magnet," Jim admitted.
"Well, keep an eye out. I don't want to have to fly in and rescue you."
Jim smiled. "Sure? Would give you an excuse to see Colorado again."
"I prefer seeing it when the water's running and the fish are biting."
"What fish?" Blair piped up as he joined them.
"Just explaining why I'm staying here, Sandburg."
Blair gave him a wide smile. It was the first true, full-wattage Sandburg smile Simon had seen since Kincaid's pre-trial. "I thought that's because you're the captain."
Simon gave the younger man a growl. "Just wait until you get back, Sandburg. I'll save all the hard cases for you."
"Don't you do that anyway?" Blair ducked laughingly as Simon gave him a play swipe.
"On that note, I'm heading back to headquarters." As Simon turned, he caught Jim's eye. Jim gave his captain a reassuring nod before the tall, dark man headed for short-term parking.
Glancing around the dirt track and identifying the jagged peak behind them, Sam nodded to himself. "We should be close to 550 now."
Raising his eyes from the map he was studying, Ezra lifted an eyebrow at his traveling companion. "You are familiar with the locale?"
"A little." Sam turned the Jeep onto another snow-packed road. "Plus I studied the map on the plane out here."
"Really? Do you always prepare so meticulously?"
"No, but I thought Blair would be with me."
"And your brother's presence would require memorizing the map?"
Sam couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, yeah. Blair's very good at many things, but map reading is not one of them. I've found that if I study the map first, I can let Blair think he's navigating and I can still get us there."
Ezra smirked. "Your family appears to be comprised of very unique and fascinating individuals."
"In more ways than one." Sam glanced over at the agent. "What about your family?"
"My only living familial relation is my mother." Ezra couldn't hold back a sigh. "A highly remarkable woman who never fails to make an impression. However, our paths rarely cross." The phrase 'Thank God' flashed across the agent's mind. Maude tended to leave his life in tatters after her whirlwind visits. "Often support is provided by my teammates."
Sam nodded. "Sounds like Blair and his partner. For that matter, Jim's like family to me, too." Pausing a moment, the photographer commented, "If Blair ran into trouble on an assignment, nothing would stop Jim from searching for him."
Ezra quickly caught on to Sam's train of thought. "My teammates would react in a similar fashion. They are most certainly searching for me now, since I have missed my check-in by hours."
"Any way we can contact them?"
"Unfortunately, no." Ezra absently rubbed his forehead. "I misplaced my cell phone during my impromptu flight from the militia encampment."
"I have mine," Sam offered. "It's in my pack."
Ezra swiftly picked up the pack and searched it. Withdrawing the phone, he flipped it open. "No signal."
"Figures. Any other ideas?"
"I have an emergency tracking signal, but I fear it is no longer in working condition."
"What's the prob..." At that moment, the back window shattered. As Sam ducked and hit the gas, he realized he had heard a sharp report from behind them.
Ezra ducked, too. Glancing over his shoulder, he commented lightly, "My pursuers have apparently found us."
"Noticed." Sam could see a huge Dodge truck in the side mirror, men with high power rifles standing in the bed aiming for the Jeep. Hastily cranking the steering wheel, Sam managed to weave, causing the next hail of bullets to miss their mark. He pushed harder on the gas pedal. Snow and dirt flew into the air behind them.
Ezra had yanked out his gun from under his jacket and turned to aim over the seat, only to realize his side arm didn't have the range. He watched in dread as the men in the truck lined up another shot. "GO!" he shouted to Sam.
However, Sam had just discovered he had more important problems. "HANG ON!" he shouted, working the wheel.
As Ezra spun around in his seat, his first impression was of pine tree tops. He instantly snapped his seatbelt into place as the Jeep whipped around the sharp turn. The agent's stomach found its way to his throat. Sam struggled to keep the vehicle upright and on the road, but couldn't prevent two 360 degree spins along the steep mountain road. The Jeep slid into the snow and dirt embankment of the downhill curve.
However, they were luckier than the truck behind them. Unable to stop, the truck sailed over the tree tops and down the mountain side. A soft 'boom' could be heard in the stillness of the forest.
A few moments later, Ezra still hadn't loosened his death grip on the dashboard. It wasn't until Sam moaned that Ezra's head finally moved from its fearful view of the steep drop-off. He realized it had been Sam's side of the vehicle which had hit the embankment. "Are you all right?"
Gingerly rubbing the spot where his head had hit the driver's side window, Sam replied, "Yeah, though I think I'm going to have a knot."
"At least you drive better than some of my colleagues. Otherwise, we most certainly would have joined our pursuers." His mind finally kicking into gear, Ezra glanced around. "Can you drive?"
Sam blinked at him a moment, then suddenly understood. "Do you think they radioed someone?"
"I'm sure they at least made an attempt. So the most prudent move on our parts would be to disappear before the rest of the pack arrives."
"Yeah." Sam rubbed his eyes a moment more, then gripped the steering wheel again. Pressing the gas, the tires only spun in place. Shifting into reverse, Sam tried again. The Jeep still didn't move.
Getting out, Ezra shook his head and yelled back, "You're in a deep ditch filled with snow. I fear it will go no further without assistance."
Sam closed his eyes a moment before shutting off the engine. He extracted himself from the driver's seat, climbing over the passenger's to exit from Ezra's opened door. He, too, looked over the Jeep. "Man, I am SO glad I took the insurance." He then turned to the agent. "We hike?"
"Yes." Ezra had walked over to the other side. The trees were so thick he couldn't see where the truck had landed. "While I doubt there were any survivors, we should still make a hasty retreat."
Sam sighed as he reached back into the Jeep to grab his backpack and camera case. "Then we'd better get started." He paused to latch onto the map, too. "Man, why does something always happen when I try to go to Harry's cabin?"
As Chris walked from the helicopter pad to the small inn, he hoped to find his trip over the mountains had been unnecessary. He held onto the thought as he jogged up to the room his agents had rented. However, the slim hope died when his youngest agent opened the door. If there had been any word from Ezra at all, JD Dunne's natural optimism would have bubbled to the surface. Instead, the grim expression spoke louder than words that their undercover agent was still missing.
"Hi, Chris," Buck Wilmington called softly, a touch of relief in his voice. The heavy weight of responsibility on his old partner's features lifted slightly with Chris' arrival. Buck had been in charge of the militia's illegal explosives operation on the western slope while Chris dealt with the higher profile bombing case back in Denver. Now Chris' long-time friend would be beating himself up, reviewing every decision he had made, searching for the one which put their teammate in danger. As he walked to the table, Chris squeezed Buck's shoulder reassuringly.
Vin Tanner was busily making pencil marks on the topo map covering most of the wooden table's surface. Noting that the lean agent was still wearing his heavy jacket, Chris surmised that Vin had just arrived from his recon of the militia camp. Chris' green eyes captured the blue ones as they rose from the map. Chris instantly knew that Vin had information, but that it wasn't good. The blond man sat in the chair next to Buck and softly ordered, "Update me."
With a sigh, Buck quietly reported, "Still no word from Ezra, either by phone or his emergency signal. Hell, at this point I'd be happy for word by carrier pigeon."
"Are we sure he's in trouble?" Chris asked.
"Oh yeah." Vin had just pulled off his coat and tossed it onto the bed behind him. "That camp is more stirred up than a fallen wasp nest. The communication shed Ez was going to blow during our raid tomorrow is gone — I'm guessing he had to blow it early to cover his escape."
"Any sign of Ezra?"
Vin shook his head. "That's the bad news. Though the good news is that the militiamen apparently don't know where he is, either. They're searching the entire forest all around here." Vin carefully penciled in a circle around the camp, making Xs where he had seen search parties.
Chris frowned. "Any suggestions as to where Ezra disappeared to?"
"Hard to say. Ez won't leave any clues as to where he ran, cuz he'd know the militia would spot 'em first. I'm guessing he'd try for the Million Dollar Highway." Vin traced the red line that represented highway 550, the main road through the area. "But considering how inexperienced Ez is out in the mountains, I'm not sure he'd know which direction to go." Guilty eyes rose to meet Chris' again. "I knew I should have gone under instead of him."
"No." Buck shook his head emphatically. "The same reasons we didn't send you still apply, Junior. There's a good chance you would have been recognized from your time in the Army or as a bounty hunter."
"Agreed." Chris sent a stern, yet reassuring, glare at his friend. "Ezra had a better chance to pull this off. In fact, does anyone know what happened?"
Three heads shook in unison. "He did say a new player arrived yesterday," JD reported. "He wasn't sure who it was, but Ezra kinda indicated he had a bad vibe from the guy. Maybe he blew Ezra's cover?"
Chris sighed. "Guess we're going to have to retrieve him to know for certain. Any ideas?"
"Ezra was suppose to contact us for a pickup if something went wrong," Buck pointed out. "But that area is so rugged, I've been worried that he'd have trouble with his cell phone. That's why JD rigged the satellite signal for him."
"Only he hasn't triggered that, either," JD added.
"How come?" Chris asked, puzzled.
"Maybe he lost it?" Vin suggested.
"Or it might have broke."
Buck turned his head to stare at his roommate, since it was new information.
JD shrugged in return. "It's delicate equipment. If he landed hard on it, who knows?"
Buck rubbed his eyes. He had tried so hard to give Ezra the best backup he could. Apparently, Murphy was not on their side.
JD glanced back and forth between the two older agents. "So what do we do now?"
Chris stared at the map a moment, running his finger along the Million Dollar Highway. It was so named because old tailings from the surrounding gold mines had been used for fill. Surely such a road had to be lucky for their Jag-driving, Armani-wearing partner. "Vin, did you leave any gas in my truck?" Chris had insisted Vin take his Dodge Ram for the assignment. Vin's battered Jeep had picked up an annoying stutter lately, and Chris didn't trust it to cross the snowy passes.
Vin tilted his head. "Yeah."
"Okay, this is what we'll do. Team Four should be arriving within a few hours as backup. In the meantime, Vin and I are going to drive along 550, keeping our eyes peeled for Ezra, while you two wait for them. Once they arrive, I want JD to show them how to monitor the equipment for Ezra's signal, just in case he manages to trigger it. Then I want you to also drive along here. We'll keep this up in shifts with Team Four until we get some indication where Ezra's gone. Because without word from Ez, it's our best shot."
A full ton Ford truck pulled up next to the stuck rental Jeep. Several men poured out, three to look over the edge and swear at the sight of smoke from their friend's truck at the bottom, two others to check the jeep.
"Well, well, well," one man whispered, reading the rental agreement he'd pulled out of the glove compartment. He was the man back at the camps that Ezra had not known.
"What is it, Decker?" his partner asked.
"Says here the Jeep was paid for by a Blair Sandburg."
The other man puzzled for a moment. "Wait a minute. Wasn't that the guy who's testimony put your cousin in a federal prison?"
"It certainly was." Decker Kincaid slapped the papers against the palm of his hand. "Looks like I'm going to have a chance to settle some old scores."
Nathan pushed his lunch around on his plate. The food at the popular Denver bar and grill was delicious, but Nate simply couldn't eat. While he should be concentrating on the bombing case, his mind kept wandering towards the western slope and his teammates. A sideways glance proved Josiah wasn't faring much better.
A fact that was not lost on MacGyver. Finally, he asked, "Can you tell me the problem?"
Nathan and Josiah exchanged glances. "One of our teammates is undercover and missed his check-in," Josiah softly explained.
Mac nodded in understanding. "I take it you're close?"
Nathan snorted. "He's a pain in the butt." Pausing a moment, he was forced to admit, "But he's our pain in the butt."
Josiah cracked a smile. "Our team is made up of highly eccentric and headstrong individuals. Yet since most of us are alone, we've become family."
"Which is good, since nobody else would put up with us," Nathan added.
"So all Nate and I can do is worry until Larabee lets us know the situation." Josiah put his fork down, his normally calm face showing his concern.
"Guess we'd better concentrate on the case to get your mind off it," Mac suggested.
Josiah leaned back in his chair. "Or you can tell us why you're in such a hurry to finish up by this weekend."
A soft smile teased the corner of MacGyver's mouth. "I'm meeting my sons and a friend up at my grandpa's cabin this weekend."
Nathan looked up from his plate. "Yeah? Sounds like you're really looking forward to that."
"I am. I don't get to see them much, so any time when all of us can be together is precious."
"Do they live in L.A.?" Josiah asked.
Mac leaned back in his chair. "My older son is a police detective up in Washington State. My younger son's stuff is at my place, but he's usually overseas on assignment. He's a photojournalist."
Josiah's ears perked up. "Europe? Asia?"
"Wherever the action is, which has given me a few gray hairs." Mac shook his head. "Just got back from India, as a matter of fact."
"Kashmir?" Josiah guessed, picking the disputed territory between India and Pakistan.
"No, he was on the earthquake. Sounds like it was rough."
Before Josiah could ask any more questions, a voice broke in, "Hey Gus!"
Mac didn't need to look. Only one person had the nerve to call him by any form of his given first name. He turned towards the voice anyway. "Hi, Jack." Nathan and Josiah gaped as a man identical to their bomb expert, except for the crew cut and the cast on his arm, walked up to their table.
"What are you doing in my part of the States?" Colonel Jack O'Neill asked, offering his good hand.
"Working a bombing case with ATF," Mac replied, shaking the hand warmly.
"Then I don't even have to ask which one." The bombings had been in all the local papers.
"I tried calling when I got into town, but couldn't reach you." Mac waved at the cast. "That part of the reason?"
"Bad assignment." Jack shrugged, indicating he considered it part of the job. "On medical leave right now."
Knowing the highly classified nature of his friend's work, Mac knew better than to inquire further. Instead, he asked, "You free this weekend?"
Jack nodded. "More or less. Daniel needs a break, so we were going up to my fishing cabin tonight."
"Well, Sam's bound and determined to give me a birthday party this year, so we're all meeting at my grandpa's cabin near Ouray. Like to come?"
Jack chuckled. "Getting old, eh? Sure, I've been wanting to meet Sam. Blair coming?"
"Yeah, both he and Jim need the break. They just got done testifying in a federal case and Jim said the defense was rough on Blair."
Jack's eyes darkened a moment. He rather liked the scrappy scientist turned detective and didn't like anyone giving him a hard time. "Then we'll have to make sure he has fun."
"Bring Daniel, too. Blair would love hearing about the unclassified parts of his research."
"Daniel will love it. Doesn't get to talk anthropology too much with just us military types." Jack glanced at his watch. "Damn, I need to get going. Call me with the directions?"
"Will do."
"Twin brother?" Nathan ventured as Mac waved good-bye.
"Oops, sorry. No, that was Colonel Jack O'Neill. As far as we can tell, Jack and I have a distant relative in common, but that's it. We met only a couple of years ago."
"Air Force?" Josiah guessed.
"Yep. He's based down at Cheyenne Mountain right now."
The sound of a beeper dropped Nathan's gaze to the small device. Slipping it off his belt, he swiftly read the message. "The lab's got some info for us."
"Then let's go." Josiah picked up the bill and led the other men through the restaurant.
Ezra was growing rather fond of his new traveling companion. Most people dragged into a chase would have been hysterical or constantly complaining. However, Ezra had been doing most of the grumbling so far. Malloy had simply joined in with the laid-back ease the agent would expect from teammate Vin Tanner or perhaps Josiah Sanchez. Not bad for a civilian, especially one between his youngest teammates, Tanner and Dunne, in age. Malloy was also very useful, navigating the mountain terrain much better than Ezra could ever hope to do by himself. If the southerner had to be stuck out in the middle of a frozen mountain trying to find a way to a phone, he couldn't have chosen a better person to be stuck with.
However, like anything too lucky, the coincidence of finding such a skilled young man just when he needed him made Ezra slightly suspicious. Malloy hadn't done anything to indicate he was something other than what he had said he was. But Ezra really didn't know much about him, either.
Pausing a moment as he studied the ravine beside them, Sam softly asked, "You hungry? I've got granola and snickers bars."
"Granola?" Ezra asked as he quickly flipped open Sam's cell phone to check the display. He kept hoping they'd walk out of the dead zone, but still no luck.
Sam chuckled. "Blair gives me grief about junk food. He's almost as bad as Dad."
Ezra watched as the young man unzipped his backpack. "Is that a space blanket?"
"Yep." Sam caught something as it fell out and slid it into his pocket.
Ezra identified it. "Lighter? Do you indulge in the vice of smoking?"
"No. But cigarette lighters are more reliable than matches in bad weather."
Ezra lifted an eyebrow. "You seem overly prepared for a person visiting his grandfather's cabin."
Sam sighed as he offered Ezra his choice of bars, hearing the hint of suspicion. After Ezra picked a granola, Sam explained, "About three years ago, Blair and I were heading for Harry's cabin and were intercepted by a hit man with a long-time grudge against our Dad." Serious brown eyes met the agent's. "We basically found ourselves being chased on foot, in the dead of winter, more-or-less lost, no phone or radio, with only what we had in our backpacks and my camera case. Blair was also pretty sick at the time and I ended up breaking my arm in one of the hit man's traps. If Jim hadn't found us when he did, I don't know how much longer either of us could have held out, especially Blair." Sam bowed his head back over his pack, zipping it up. "I swore never to get caught out like that again. So I prepare."
Ezra nodded thoughtfully, absorbing the story. "Why was the hit man after your father?"
Sam smirked as he stood up. "Dad's former DXS. He's the only one to ever stop one of Murdoc's assassination attempts, so Murdoc holds Dad responsible for ruining his reputation."
"Then I stand by my previous observation. You are from a family of unique and fascinating individuals."
Sam chuckled. Before he could comment, a shot rang out as the snow by their feet spurted into the air. "Run!" Sam and Ezra yelled together as they swiftly clambered down the path.
After Chris parked his Dodge Ram in front of the store, he turned to his partner. Vin was studying the area, a slight frown on his face. "Vin?"
The younger man continued his search. "Something don't feel right."
Chris glanced around. There did seem to be a strange tension hanging over the area. He pointed his chin at two men standing by a run-down garage. "Aren't those the same fatigues Ezra had?"
"Yep. Snow's been churned up too, like there's been a lot of foot traffic recently. Strange for a place this small."
Blue eyes met green. Both were thinking that if Ezra had made it this far, he wouldn't have found any help in this town. Chris raised an eyebrow in question. "You still want that junk food?"
"Yeah, I'm starving." Chris' eyes transmitted the need to stay alert, which Vin silently agreed to with a nod. As one, they popped open the doors and walked into the store.
Chris' nerves grew tighter once inside. While nothing was suspicious, the air seemed to crackle with unease. Increasing the feeling was the man at the counter, who was glaring at Vin's long hair and leather jacket as the lean man sorted through the chips. It was probably a good thing Buck had rejected Vin's request to join the militia — Vin was protective of his hair.
After grabbing two Cokes from the small refrigerated selection in the rear, Chris met Vin at the counter. The man studied them hard. "Where are you boys going?" he asked Chris suspiciously, ignoring Vin.
While his first thought was to ignore the question, Vin's glance reminded him that perhaps they could get some information. "We're heading towards Ouray," Chris replied, picking the next good-sized town on the other side of Ridgway. He pushed the Cokes and Vin's Fritos closer to the cash register in a silent signal to ring them up.
The owner ignored it. "You going to your grandpa's cabin like that other boy who was in here?" he questioned snidely.
Vin felt a tingle on the back of his neck. Somehow, he knew this was important. "Could be one of my cousins. What did he look like?"
Still directing his answers to Chris, the man shrugged. "Short brown hair, brown eyes, leather jacket like his, almost six foot."
Nodding, Vin tried not to become angry at getting ignored. "Sounds like one of them."
"You ain't driving a rental like him," the man drawled, sparing a glare at Vin's hair again.
"We're from the Front Range," Chris replied, backing Vin's play, "while our cousin's coming in from out-of-state."
"What he rent?" Vin asked casually. "Cuz isn't real smart sometimes."
"Did pretty good," the man grudgingly admitted as he finally began to ring them up. "Blue Cherokee."
"At least it wasn't like last time," Vin chuckled dryly, meeting Chris' eyes.
"Well, I hope you aren't all having a big party and traipsing through my store." He glanced at Vin again, then back to Chris. Vin had a feeling that if Chris had not been there, with his clean-cut looks and bad-ass attitude, the man would have given him a harder time.
Chris held the man's glare for a moment, silently letting him know that he would do what he damn well pleased. Then he paid for the items and followed Vin out of the store.
Once they were in the truck, Chris glanced at Vin. Seeing the thoughtful look on his friend's face as he tore open the bag of Fritos, he asked, "What?"
Vin paused a moment as he looked around. "This burg isn't all that far from the militia camp."
Chris nodded. "Hell, the guy in there's probably a member."
"What if Ezra got this far and saw a rental jeep sitting in front of the store?"
Chris thought a moment. "You don't think he'd..."
Vin shrugged. "Ez's a gambler. Considering the locals, he may have felt it worth the risk."
"In any case, the driver may have seen something." Chris put the truck in gear. "Get a hold of Buck. Maybe JD can track him down."
MacGyver took a deep breath as he sat in the van. The paper trail on one of the chemicals had led him and the ATF agents to a small town on the plains east of Denver. The rundown house didn't appear to be livable and certainly not occupied. However, appearances could be deceiving. Experience had taught him that.
The consultant from Phoenix felt his muscles tighten as the agents around him checked their weapons and Kevlar vests. He hated guns, but could understand their necessity given the situation. The sound of a jet engine reminded Mac just how close they were to the Denver International Airport and what could possibly be at stake.
Nathan also had heard the plane. "Man, talk about an ideal location for a terrorist wannabe. I pray to God we don't have to search DIA for one of this maniac's bombs."
"Amen, Brother." Josiah turned to Mac. "You'll be able to hear everything on the headphones. If we find another bomb, we'll call you."
Mac nodded. "Just be careful."
Josiah moved two fingers near his forehead at Mac before following his partner out the door. Mac reflected that the gesture looked like Josiah had been tipping an imaginary hat.
Holding his breath, Mac listened as Jackson and Sanchez coordinated with Teams 3 and 5. When there was no answer to Nathan's knock, the sound of the door breaking signaled the start of the raid. Calm, intense voices crackled through the radio. Soon, it became apparent their suspect was not home. Sounds of opening drawers and moving furniture intermixed with the agents' chatter.
Then Nathan's voice came across loud and strong. "MacGyver, you better get in here and see this."
"Bomb?" MacGyver asked more calmly than he felt.
"No, but you won't believe this workshop..."
"Buck, what was the description of that rental Jeep Vin mentioned?" JD was listening intently, pressing the earpiece of his headset closer to his ear.
Buck looked up from the map. "Blue Cherokee."
"Bingo!" As Buck stood up and walked over, JD listened a few moments more. Thus the older man easily noticed when the worried look crossed his friend's face. "Damn!"
"What?" Buck asked.
"The Sheriff's department has found a Jeep matching that description with the back window shot out."
"Damn," Buck echoed JD's swearing.
"Also asking for a coroner." Buck's face turned white before JD continued, "But that sounds like it's for another wreck in the same area."
"Guess that's something." Worry still lined the older agent's face. "Where's it at?" JD scribbled down the information as he continued to listen. Buck read it over his shoulder and nodded. "Okay, that's east, northeast of us."
JD turned worried eyes to his friend. "What do you think happened?"
"Militia must have found Ezra and his friend with the Jeep. Hopefully, they managed to escape." Buck slapped JD on the shoulder. "I'll get the news to Chris and Junior, then we'll go check it out."
"Sandburg, you are shameless." Jim shook his head as he lifted his suitcase off the belt.
Blair was grinning as he smoothed the large sticker on the side of his luggage. "Hey, I'll have you know that's an Aztec symbol for..."
"I know what it's a symbol for — that's obvious."
"JIM!"
The two partners continued to tease each other as they walked towards the car rental desk. Then Jim blinked. "Isn't that Sheriff Connor?"
"Yeah, it is." Blair walked over, greeting, "Hi, Sheriff."
Connor's eyes bugged out. "Blair? Where'd you come from?"
"Cascade," Blair chuckled.
"Our plane just landed," Jim explained, following his partner.
The sheriff glanced between the two men. "Then how come there's a Jeep Cherokee rented out to Blair this morning?"
Blair felt his good mood drain to his feet. "I missed my flight this morning, so Sam picked it up." Swallowing, he asked, "What's wrong?"
"We're not quite sure..." Connor hedged.
"Not sure about what?" Jim asked quietly. He did not like the implications.
"Well, one of my officers found the Jeep in a snow embankment with the back window shot out."
"What!" Blair exclaimed, his eyes wide.
Jim's face grew grim. "Any sign of Sam?"
"No. There was also a truck over the side. Four dead."
"Damn," Blair whispered, mind racing.
The Sheriff again glanced between the two men. "Any ideas who might be after Sam?"
Both shook their heads. "Sam just got back from India, and Dad hasn't warned us about anybody recently," Blair explained. He looked up into the Sheriff's face. "Can you take us there?"
"Well..."
"Sheriff," Jim softly growled. If Sam was in trouble, the sentinel wanted to start tracking him as soon as possible. Memories of Murdoc terrorizing Sam and Blair in the area were still fresh after three years.
"I'll get Deputy Kelsey to lead you to the spot. If you think of anything..."
"We'll let you know," Jim assured him. He gently nudged his stunned partner towards the counter, wanting to get the rental and on the road as soon as possible.
Sam barely stopped before sliding over a rock and into the ravine below. As Ezra managed to avoid running into him, Sam glanced down and shook his head. "Too steep."
Ezra shuddered at the drop, all too easily imagining their bodies broken on the rocks below. There was no way they could navigate the ice coated rock. Breathing hard, the agent asked, "Any way around it?"
Sam swiftly surveyed the area. "Maybe on the other side of those rocks?" He pointed at a ridge of reddish brown rocks jutting out of the snow.
"In addition, it would provide us with higher ground." Ezra checked the clip in his gun, fearing they may end up trapped in a shootout.
Before Ezra could take a step towards the ridge, Sam's arm stopped him. "Just a minute." With a couple of well-placed kicks, Sam sent a stone on the edge crashing into the ravine. Noticing Ezra's lifted eyebrow, he explained, "Decoy."
Nodding in understanding, Ezra, too, kicked another large rock to follow the first. "Excellent idea, Mr. Malloy."
"Sam," his companion absently corrected, studying the terrain to their goal.
"Sam." Ezra leaned down to yank his back-up piece from his ankle holster. "Do you know how to shoot?"
Nodding seriously, Sam took the offered weapon. "Took a course, and Jim's helped me some. Just don't tell my Dad if you ever meet him." Before Ezra could ask why, they could hear noises in the trees. "Follow me."
Ezra carefully picked his way after Sam, stepping on stone wherever possible. They scrambled up the rocky mound until they could see over it. After a few more yards, Sam pointed ahead. "There's a foot bridge. We must be close to a trail."
"Then let us traverse this ravine and increase our distance from our pursuers."
Sam held back a chuckle as he led the way. If he could write the way the agent talked, perhaps his editor wouldn't be so upset with him. However, he suspected the southern accent added to the flow. The photojournalist was just stepping onto the bridge when a shot hit the rock next to him.
"Go!" Ezra shouted. He turned and shot towards the three men above them, forcing them to find cover in the rocks. Then Ezra, too, crossed the swaying construction of rope and wood as fast as he dared. Shots from his backup piece rang in his ears as Sam covered him. Once across, Ezra turned and fired three well-placed shots, severing the main connecting ropes. The bridge fell, effectively cutting them off from the other side and their pursuers.
As Ezra and Sam scrambled to get out of bullet range, a voice shouted, "Blair Sandburg!" Shocked at the familiar name, Sam turned to the voice. "Yeah, you! We know how you and Ellison participated in that injustice against one of our brothers! How Dexter Fillmore rejected our cause! Revenge for Garrett Kincaid will be ours!"
Ezra grabbed Sam's arm and yanked him down into a gully of brush. The agent forced the civilian ahead of him until they were at least half a mile from the ravine. After pulling him to the side, Ezra turned Sam's still stunned face to his while the agent struggled to control his breathing. "Your brother Blair... Detective Blair Sandburg... partner James Ellison... from Cascade, Washington?"
Eyes widening, Sam nodded. "Yeah. How do you..." Then a light turned on in Sam's mind. "Wait a minute! About a year ago, Blair emailed me that they helped an old army buddy of Jim's who's an ATF agent."
"Vin Tanner, one of my partners. Your brother helped me put the pieces of the case together. Who's Fillmore?"
"Haven't a clue," Sam replied with a shake of his head. "Maybe one of Jim's informants?"
"Who's Garrett Kincaid?"
Sam's face turned grim. "Remember I mentioned the guy who hurt Blair and Dad busted his nose?" At Ezra's nod, Sam continued, "That's Kincaid. Blair and Jim testified against him in a federal case this week."
"So his comrades would hold a grudge?"
"Oh yeah. In fact, they tried to kill Blair after the trial while attempting to break Kincaid out. And Blair and Jim's plane should have landed in Montrose..." Sam glanced at his watch. "An hour ago."
Ezra was now frowning, too. He had enjoyed working with the brilliant Sandburg and what he suspected about the young detective's press conference made him an admirer. The fact the handy young man beside him was Sandburg's brother only increased his protective feeling towards Malloy. "Then there is even more incentive to communicate with the outside world." Ezra again flipped open Sam's cell phone to read, 'No signal'.
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