Ares Bugle

by Cindy Combs

  Before Blair could respond, Jim's head popped up. Mac and Blair traded puzzled looks, then turned as the door was unlocked. Two guards, with two more behind them with guns, carried in a tray of food and a pile of clothes. Blair immediately recognized his boots on top. Leaving the items on the desk between the door and bunks, one straightened up and glared at the three men. "Kincaid has set our departure time at sixteen hundred hours. You will be ready at that time." They turned and departed, locking the door behind them.

  "That leaves us just under an hour," Mac commented.

  Jim stood up and carefully poured soup from a thermos into a mug. "Doesn't leave us much time," he commented, walking back to hand the mug to Blair. He hated the idea of forcing Blair to travel in this cold with a fever and that cough.

  "Vegetable soup," Blair muttered, then coughed. "Don't those guys know that ~cough~ chicken soup has natural..."

  "Probably," Jim cut in. You'd think the kid would learn that talking brought on more coughing. "They might not care if you get better or not."

  "Great," Blair mummered glumly. He took a drink of soup.

  Jim turned to Mac. "Any ideas?"

  MacGyver didn't have to ask about what. "I'm hoping the calvary appears soon. Barring that, I do have a few ideas for when we get to the facility. "

  While Blair's eyes turned puzzled over the mug, Jim simply nodded his head. "Okay, fill me in."

  Monday, 4:03 p.m., Two miles from Sun Rise Patriot's Base

  "That's got to be it, Simon," Taggart stated quietly, his binoculars trained at the other side of the steep valley. "I can just barely make it out, and it looks like there is activity."

  Simon also trained his binoculars on the site. He just wished Jim was on this side of the rescue. His special skills helped a lot in these situations.

  "That is where the signal is coming from," Jack added, studying the equipment in his hands. Suddenly, he lifted his head. "Oh, oh."

  "Oh, oh what?" Simon asked, not sure if he really wanted to know. Anything that gave Dalton concern usually scared the hell out of him. What could go wrong with them so close?

  "I hear a couple copters. We'd better make sure the vehicles are under cover."

  As Jack and Joel turned, Simon continued to focus his binoculars on the compound. The large transport helicopters landed in the small clearing. Equipment was loaded, then Simon spotted three people escorted from the building and forced to climb in. Damn, the tall one looked like Ellison. The other man was blond, probably MacGyver. The shortest, middle figure was wrapped in a blanket. Probably Blair, who by this point must be deep into his bout of flu. Helplessly, Simon watched as the helicopters lifted off, carrying his friends.

  Monday, 4:30 p.m., Sun Rise Patriot helicopter

  ~cough, cough~

  Blair shifted slightly against Jim, then sank deeper into sleep. Jim adjusted the blanket again, hoping to keep out most of the chill. He had given his sick friend his sweatshirt, while Mac had let him keep the heavy nylon coat. To add more warmth, Blair was nestled between Jim and Mac as they sat in the cold helicopter going to who knows where. Well, maybe Mac did. He, too, had drifted off to sleep.

  Jim wanted to stay alert. He scanned the pilot and the five guards around them. Even if he could find a way to overpower Kincaid's men, there was no one to fly the copter. Mac's plan still seemed the best. He just didn't know if Mac's plan would work. What worried him was that it required Jim getting them all past the security system. Blair had made a valid point earlier. Jim feared he would zone if he had to concentrate too hard to get through, yet his guide was in no shape to help him navigate it. What he needed was a healthy guide. On that thought, his gaze landed on Mac. Jim was sure the older man was a latent guide. Could Mac figure it out quick enough to help Jim through? Did Jim trust Mac enough? Trust was a hard thing for Jim to give, yet Blair had it in full. Jim suspected it was why their sentinel/guide relationship worked. Before the question of Blair's paternity, Ellison's trust for Mac had been growing. Was it still there? Would any of this work with a guide who was not HIS guide?

  Quietly staring out the window, Jim continued the internal debate.

  Monday, 5 p.m., Cascade Police Headquarters

  Steven had been waiting so long for Simon's phone to ring, he nearly jumped out of the chair when it did. He glanced at Brown, starting to stir on the couch. No, he'd answer it. On the second ring he picked it up, "Captain Simon Banks' office."

  "Who is this?" Steven immediately recognized Simon's rather pissed off sounding voice. He straightened in the chair and replied firmly, "Steven Ellison."

  "Steven? What are you doing there?"

  "My brother and Sandburg are in trouble. Where do you expect me to be?"

  Simon sighed audibly as Henri picked up the connecting line. "Captain? How's it going?"

  "Not well." Steven steeled himself for bad news as Simon paused. "Kincaid and his people have left their base with Ellison, Sandburg and MacGyver. We suspect they have been taken to the installation Jim is suppose to break into, but we are not sure which one. The good news is that they took some of the equipment the DXS planted a satellite tracking signal in. They've been tracked to somewhere in the Bitterroot National Forest, but that is a rather large, remote place to search for a top secret base. We are about to fly into the area, but we're unsure what course of action to take once we are there."

  While Brown laid his head on the table in defeat, Steven perked up. "Did you say the Bitterroots? As in Idaho?"

  "Unless they have moved them recently, yes." Simon's patience was at an all time low.

  "Where are you landing? Missoula?"

  "No, Grangeville," Simon replied, puzzled. Steven Ellison sounded rather upbeat for someone who's brother was being held against his will.

  For the first time that day, Steven smiled. "Even better. When you get there, go to a bar called Longbeard's and say you are looking for someone who knows Doc Ben."

  "Doc Ben? Longbeard's Bar?" Simon's voice increased in puzzled volume, "Have I suddenly been dropped into a Bonanza episode?"

  "Trust me, Simon. There should be a guide waiting for you there. If you have trouble, just say you know me."

  Simon nearly jumped at the guide reference. Tightening his hold on his emotions, he griped, "You have been spending too much time with Sandburg. You are beginning to sound like him."

  "Trust me, Simon. And if you don't trust me, just do it for Jim and Blair."

  "Okay, okay, but this better work."

  Steven quietly hung up the phone, wishing he could be there to help Jim.

  Monday, 6:35 p.m., Entrance of Ares Bugle Facility

  Jim walked protectively next to his guide along the rugged mountain trail, scanning the gunmen around them and listening to Blair's deepening cough. The half mile hike in the cold air only seemed to worsen it. Jim winced as one racking cough stopped Blair in his tracks, holding his bruised ribs. The kid couldn't take much more of this.

  MacGyver, walking on the other side, lightly laid a hand on Blair's shoulder. He gave it a reassuring squeeze when the cough finally eased. "We're almost there, Blair. Just hang on," he whispered.

  Blue eyes, filled with misery, looked up into brown ones. Shivering, Blair nodded. Mac gave the thin shoulder another squeeze through the coat, wishing with all his heart that he could trade places.

  "Get moving!"

  Jim froze the man with an icy glare, then gently laid an arm across Blair's shoulders, guiding him forward and offering support. Again, Jim scanned the snow-covered mountainside for a means of escape, but came up empty.

  A few feet later, Kincaid brought the group to a halt in front of a snow-covered slope. He pulled out a funny-looking key and slipped it into a door hidden behind shrubs in the hillside. With a loud screech, it swung inward. "Inside!" Kincaid barked.

  The dark room revealed a reception desk, several dusty upholstered lounge chairs, and a huge iron gate. Jim and Mac led Blair to one of the blue padded chairs, easing the sick man to a h
alf-reclining, half-sitting position. Mac shook out the blanket he had been carrying and tucked it around the shivering form.

  Jim glanced at his watch, then pulled a bottle of cough medicine from his pocket. Unscrewing the top, he handed it to his guide. "Take a swig."

  Blair was about to protest until another coughing fit shook him, sending waves of pain through his abused ribs. Suddenly, Blair no longer cared about unnatural chemicals. He only wanted the pain and coughing to stop. Taking a small swallow from the bottle, he then returned it to his friend. He closed his eyes and leaned back, feeling the liquid warmingly soothe his throat.

  Jim laid a comforting hand on his guide's shoulder as he studied the room. His ears could detect a faint electronic buzz, probably belonging to the cameras he could pinpoint around the ceiling. In front of them was the gate, which blocked the trap-filled way in. Kincaid and his men were attempting to open the lock. Slightly tightening his hold on his guide, Jim focused his sight down the dusty hall beyond. It was cut out of the rock, forming a square opening. The light dimmed, then was blocked when the tunnel bent away. Another cough shook the slim frame under his hand, bringing Jim back into the room.

  Jim glanced back down at Blair. It was just about time for Jim's part of this outrageous scheme. Only, could Jim do it alone? Blair was in no shape to even get back on his feet, but if Jim took Mac with him, it would leave Blair defenseless. Neither option was very good, yet Jim didn't know which was better.

  MacGyver was studying the two younger men and guessed what Jim was thinking. Blair could not go, yet judging from Blair's earlier reactions, it was very dangerous for Jim to go it alone. Could he help Jim? Would Jim let him? And how could they protect Blair while they were gone?

  A loud snap alerted them to the gate. As it swung free, Kincaid turned to his prisoners. "All right, it is time for Ellison and Sandburg to take care of the security."

  Jim's hand continued to stay on his partner's shoulder. "Sandburg is too sick to go anywhere, Kincaid."

  Kincaid pulled out his gun. "That wasn't an option."

  Mac stepped between Kincaid and Ellison. "I'll go with him. Sandburg can be your insurance that we will let you in once we get there."

  Both men stared at him. "I will not lose my hacker before we even get to the command center!" Kincaid forcefully stated.

  "I won't do you much good if Ellison doesn't make it." Mac coolly pointed out. "In addition, I remember some of the system and can help him."

  After a few minutes, Kincaid sharply nodded his agreement. Ellison turned back to him. "You and your men better not touch Sandburg while we are gone, Kincaid."

  As Kincaid glared at him, Mac added, "We will be able to tell how he's doing when we get through," pointing to the cameras.

  Kincaid slowly replied, "He will be left alone, as long as he doesn't pull any more tricks."

  Jim glanced at the miserable blue eyes staring up at him. Did Kincaid honestly think Blair was in any condition to do anything? Jim again stared at Kincaid. "Agreed."

  As Kincaid turned back to his men, Mac gently laid his hand on Blair's forehead. Noting the increasing heat, Mac softly ordered, "Stay put, Blair."

  Blair forced his eyes open, smiling faintly. "They took my knife, man. I'm not going anywhere." After another cough, his face turned serious. "Just keep an eye on Jim."

  "I will," Mac promised as he again tucked the blanket around him.

  Jim gave his shoulder a final squeeze. "I'll be back for you, Chief."

  Blair switched his eyes to his sentinel. "I know," he stated in complete confidence. He quietly watched as his two friends walked past Kincaid and his men, then through the gate. It wasn't until Blair lost sight of their flashlights that he allowed his eyes to drift shut again.

  Monday, 6:47 p.m., Longbeard's Bar, Grangeville, ID

  Simon paused a moment while his eyes adjusted to the dim light. Loud country music wailed from the jukebox, while a gathering of rough-looking customers enjoyed the drinks and food. Steven Ellison, the well-groomed Vice President of a major corporation, sent him here? Simon could no more picture the younger Ellison in this establishment than he could the elder one attending an elegant ball, unless they were under duress. Glancing around, Simon vowed to check into Steven's activities during the 15 years he and his brother had been estranged.

  He walked through the dirt and sawdust to the bar, a wide-eyed Rafe behind him. Sitting on a stool, Simon waited until the huge man with a long, red beard finished drawing a couple beers for a waitress in tight jeans and a revealing top. The man, presumably Longbeard, turned to him. "What can I get you?"

  Simon answered, trying to talk over the music, "I am looking for someone who knows a 'Doc Ben'."

  Red beard laughed, "That covers at least half the people in this room. Doc Ben is well known and well liked." The man studied them as he drew another beer. "Is Ben in trouble?"

  "No," Simon replied, realizing the man must have him and Rafe pegged as policemen. Sandburg always did say they stuck out. "A friend of ours, Steven Ellison, told us to come here."

  "Stevie? How's the kid doing?"

  "Stevie?" Simon repeated silently to himself. He couldn't picture anyone besides maybe Jim calling Steven that, and even then it seemed like a long shot.

  Before Simon could answer the man, a native American stepped beside him. "It's okay, Jerry. Sky eyes called my nephew and said these city men would be coming."

  "Okay, Ernie. Just let me know if you or Ben need help."

  Ernie turned to them, "I have a booth in the corner. It is a little more quiet."

  Simon and Rafe followed the man across room. Ernie was about 5'10, lean and fit, with his straight brown hair tied back in a ponytail. Simon estimated his age to be about Mac's and Dalton's.

  As they slid into the booth, Ernie inquired, "From Steve's description, you must be Captain Banks. I am Deputy Ernie Horse. I lead the Sheriff Department's Search and Rescue."

  Shaking hands over the table, Simon quickly introduced Rafe, then continued, "Did Steven say why we were coming?"

  "Yes," Ernie replied. "Steve has been good friends with Ben since they roomed together at the University. We were happy to hear that he and his brother were finally together again." Ernie sighed softly. "Sky eyes has always been willing to help our tribe. Now, I am very willing to help you find his brother and his friends."

  "Steven said you could guide us in the Bitterroots?" Simon asked.

  Ernie smiled. "I may be able to do even more. I aided in the development of a few installations in my day. I may know which one they have been taken to, if you can give me the general area."

  Wide smiles stretched across Simon's and Rafe's faces.

  Monday, 6:55 p.m., Ares Bugle Facility

  Jim listened as Blair drifted into sleep. There was nothing so far to indicate that Kincaid and his men were giving him trouble. The steady heartbeat and deepening rhythm of his guide's breathing relaxed the tired sentinel's mind, lulling his senses. Suddenly, someone shook him.

  "Jim!" Mac hissed. He hadn't realized Ellison was entering a zone out until he had suddenly stopped walking. Damn, he should have been paying more attention. When Jim didn't respond to his voice, Mac grabbed both shoulders and shook. Gasping, Jim blinked several times before focusing on MacGyver's face. As Mac watched awareness enter the eyes, a sudden thought struck him with dread. "Is Blair all right?" he asked urgently.

  Jim nodded and rubbed his forehead. "Blair's sleeping." And nearly took the exhausted sentinel with him. "Guess I'm more tired than I thought."

  "We are both tired," Mac quietly stated. "But if we don't get our minds on what is ahead of us, we won't survive the next couple hours. If we don't make it, Blair won't either. Which is just not acceptable."

  Blue eyes studied brown ones. "It isn't to me either, I need Blair. I care about him. Do you really care?"

  Mac sighed. He really didn't want to get into this now, but he also had to have Jim's full cooperation if any of this was going to wo
rk. Returning Jim's gaze, Mac replied. "Yes, I do. That is part of the reason I haven't pursued the paternity thing." As Jim's eyebrows lifted in disbelief, Mac continued. "For the past five years, I have been worried that someone from my past will target Sam to get back at me. Just last July, Sam was showing me pictures he had taken in Brussels. I spotted Murdoc in several of the shots. I don't want to put Blair in the same danger."

  Jim quietly remembered Mac telling him about Murdoc last fall. No wonder Mac had been so tense when Sam had nearly been abducted. Having Blair be Sam's rescuer probably hadn't helped matters any.

  "Besides, Blair is doing all right. Sam was still a teenager when I found him, a loner with no family. Blair has his mother, his career, friends, and a protective sentinel to look out for him. He doesn't need a father to barge in and disrupt things."

  "That is still up for debate," Jim sighed, "but for another time. Did you mean it about knowing this system?"

  Taking the change in topic as a sign that the truce was back in place, Mac replied, "I saw the plans, but that was over ten years ago. I've been trying to remember it since Kincaid told me his objective."

  Jim glanced ahead, studying the dark and rocky hall. "Do you remember the first obstacle?"

  "Some very sharp blades that drop from the ceiling or swing from the wall if you set off a trigger."

  "Sounds rather medieval. What kind of trigger?"

  "Some infrared lasers; some just a trip wire."

  "Great. With luck, I should be able to see the trip wires. However, my sight doesn't go into the infrared."

  MacGyver smiled as he pulled out a stick from his pack. "That is why I have these."

  Jim's eyebrows raised. "You always plan on needing a smoke screen?"

  Monday, 7:00 p.m., airfield, Grangeville, ID

  Inside a cold hanger, Dalton unrolled a map of the area on a dusty table. "The signal is coming from about there."