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“Do we have eyes on Mac?”
Matty’s voice was brisk. To the untrained observer, she appeared to be unconcerned about the fate of her missing agent. Jack was not an untrained observer. He could read tension in the set of her jaw, the way she clipped her words, the stillness in her as she met the eyes of every person in the room, ending with Riley.
Riley shook her head, defeated. “Comms are down, his button cam went offline, no ping from his cell phone, security cams in the neighborhood are nothing but static. He’s off the grid.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have let him go in alone,” Jack growled.
“And if you had followed him, you would have been disobeying a direct order—my direct order.” Matty brushed Jack’s mea culpa aside. It served no practical purpose and would get them no closer to finding MacGyver.
Jack clenched and unclenched his fists. He knew Matty was right, but he didn’t have to like it.
There was a ping from Riley’s laptop. She looked up in surprise. “We’ve got an incoming video feed, unknown source.”
“Put it up,” Matty directed.
Riley hit a button, and the screens on the wall instantly transformed into an image of the inside of a warehouse. It was mostly empty, save for some crates in the background, a horse trough off to one side, three men with guns standing around a captive in a chair, and a fifth man staring straight into the camera. The occupant of the chair sagged against bonds that held him fast, his chin pressed against his chest. His blond hair covered his face, but no one watching the screen needed to see it to know who he was.
“Trace it.” The firm command was so quiet, Riley did a double-take to make sure it had been spoken before furiously working to track the signal.
Matty faced the screens and the camera. “Who is this? What do you want?”
The man at the front laughed hoarsely. “You know who we are. As to what we want, well….let’s talk about what you want first.” He motioned to one of the guards by the chair.
The giant of a man reached over and grabbed a handful of their captive’s hair, yanking his head back to show his face to the camera. Mac’s lip was split, and he had the beginnings of a black eye. Blood threaded its way from a cut above his eyebrow down his face and dripped off his chin. From the way his chest heaved, he was having trouble breathing. The team couldn’t even be certain he was fully conscious. Jack swore.
“This, I believe, belongs to you.” Another hoarse laugh. “And if you want it back, you’re going to listen very carefully to every word I say.”
Matty’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Then say it,” she snapped.
“Oh, I will. But first, you need to know how serious I am about this.” He again beckoned.
This time, the guard released Mac’s hair, letting him fall forward with a grunt. The ropes around his chest caught him, but those were quickly released by a second guard. A gun was pressed to his neck, and Mac was hauled to his feet.
“Jack, go.” Again, the words were spoken so softly that they were barely audible. Nor did Matty’s lips move. But the command was unmistakable. Jack started to protest, then caught Riley’s eye. She nodded. He slipped out of the room silently, Bozer on his heels. Riley pulled out her cell phone for a moment, entering a series of numbers before putting it back.
The men on the other side of the camera were so distracted with their preparations, they didn’t notice the quiet flurry of activity. They dragged Mac over to the horse trough as their leader adjusted the camera so it was in full view. Now Matty and Riley could see that it was filled to the brim with water and ice. The first guard shoved Mac to his knees in front of it.
“Do it,” the leader ordered.
Mac tried to struggle, but, with his hands still bound behind him, he was helpless. The guard planted a hand on the back of his head and pushed Mac’s face underwater. He kept it there for a long moment, then yanked Mac up. Water splashed out of the trough, soaking the front of Mac’s shirt. His hair was plastered to his forehead. He coughed up water and gasped for air.
The leader asked, “Do we understand each other now?”
“What do you want?” Anger made Matty’s voice brittle.
“We want the location of the next-gen missile launcher prototype. The Navy is being very hush-hush about it.”
“Even if I knew, you know that I couldn’t tell you,” Matty said through clenched teeth.
The leader snapped his fingers. The guard gathered another handful of Mac’s hair and forced his head back into the icy water. He thrashed against his captor, to no avail. Long seconds dragged by as Mac was held beneath the surface. When he was pulled back, he collapsed to the floor in a heap, coughing hoarsely.
“We’ll try again. The location of the missile launcher. Project 3XC59. Code name Black Viper.”
“You seem to know more about it than I do. Why don’t you tell me where it is?”
“You’re very funny, Ms. Webber. I wonder if your agent appreciates your humor as much as I do.”
The guards didn’t hesitate. This time, though, two of them grabbed Mac at his shoulders and feet. They hoisted him over the edge and dropped him, water and ice splashing all around the floor. One of them reached over and pushed his head down every time he tried to come up for air.
Riley could see Matty’s jaw clench, though no other visible signs of distress showed. For her part, Riley was having difficulty keeping the tears at bay. She stared intently at her computer, watching a blue dot converge on a red one.
Finally, Mac was allowed to break free of the surface and breathe, though they did not pull him from the water. His teeth chattered ferociously, and his body was wracked with shivers. Matty lifted an eyebrow at Riley, who nodded. She had already dispatched EMS services as well.
“I do not think you are taking me seriously, Ms. Webber. That is unfortunate.” The leader turned from the camera and approached the trough. He angled himself so that the Phoenix team could still see him and Mac, then grabbed Mac’s shirt front in his right hand and hauled him close. With his left, he pulled out a knife.
“It seems you need more proof of my resolve. Every minute that passes without the location of Black Viper will be marked on your man. Shall we start now?” He drew the tip of the blade along Mac’s jaw, and red blood mixed with the cold water.
“South Africa,” Matty said abruptly, catching the leader’s attention. He froze, holding the knife to Mac’s throat.
“What did you say?”
“Black Viper is aboard a frigate off the coast of South Africa.” Matty’s voice was steady, and her gaze never wavered.
“Tsk tsk, Ms. Webber. I should have explained all the rules. Every minute without the location is a mark, but every false location is worse.”
The knife shifted and stabbed deep into the thick muscle of Mac’s right shoulder. A scream ripped from his throat as the blade pulled free. The leader shoved Mac back under the water, pressing hard on his chest to keep him there.
Then, three things happened in quick succession. Matty’s fist clenched. Riley, still looking at her laptop, whispered, “Go.” And gunfire erupted in the background.
The leader dropped first, two bullets in his chest and another in his throat before he could even react. One of the guards hit the ground seconds later. The remaining two men brought their weapons to bear on the intruders, even managing to squeeze off a few answering rounds before they fell back, dead before they hit the ground.
Jack and Bozer, guns in hand, appeared on the screen, flashing an “all clear” thumbs up to the camera. Jack immediately holstered his weapon and raced for the trough. Mac was sitting up, spewing water from his lungs. Jack reached in and hauled him out, laying him out on the ground. He rolled his friend onto his belly, pounding his back with one hand and reaching for his knife with the other. He cut through the cables that bound Mac’s hands together. They had cut into the skin at his wrists, leaving behind angry red lines.
Jack grabbed Mac’s arms and pulled him upright. Mac was dripping wet, bleeding from the stab wound, still coughing, and shivering uncontrollably. Matty and Riley watched as Jack ran his hands over Mac, quickly assessing his injuries. His face was grim by the end of it, and Riley was relieved to hear sirens in the distance.
The EMS team swarmed onto the scene, firing questions at Jack, cutting open Mac’s shirt, and applying pressure to his shoulder wound. Matty watched the scene with no more expression than she had shown for the entire ordeal. Riley, however, did not miss the quiet, relieved sigh that slipped between her lips. Mac was safe.