![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
This is longer; 2,500 and if you look closely, you can see a hint at the Goa'uld... or their interior decorators, at least...
Previous parts are here.
Buried Dreams
Part Four
It turned out to be a tunnel, lit by guttering torches at intervals, and with air that smelled fresh enough to get MacGyver thinking. He snapped his knife closed and inspected a broken fingernail before chewing it level. By the time it was, he'd come to a decision.
"You need to go back and wake up --"
"No."
"I hadn't finished." Daniel tried to push past, and MacGyver grabbed his arm, concern and determination wiping out the low burn of need he'd been feeling off and on since he'd first seen Daniel, bent over the Jeep and cursing up a storm. "You wake up the professor --"
"The one who said this was a storeroom? The one who's been blocking every suggestion I made to open the door, and then did it while I was out getting supplies we didn't need, in a Jeep he had to know wasn't roadworthy? That professor?" Daniel shook off Mac's arm. "The one you're really friendly with?"
"I know him. It's not the same thing." Mac reconsidered. "But someone I know really well, and trust 100%, likes him, so I guess he gets to be on the good guy list for now."
"A man?"
"What?"
"The person you trust; a man?"
"Pete, yeah. He's my --"
"It doesn't matter." Daniel's lips folded in a straight line, his face a shade paler in the light of MacGyver's torch.
"No, it doesn't," MacGyver agreed, a little baffled but game. "What matters is finding the people who hurt you, who are most likely the people behind the thefts, which I'm not going to insult you by asking if you know about, because a bright guy like you knows everything that's going on, right?"
"Some of it." Daniel sounded unsure. "The workers like me, but they don't know who's doing it, or why. It's nothing valuable you see; well, some of it is, but a lot was really odd stuff that didn't seem to fit with what we expected to find. There was this decorative glove…" He shook his head and then winced, putting a cautious hand to the bump he'd been given. "Anyway, whether your… friend likes him or not, I don't trust Professor Blake, I'm having second thoughts about you, and I'm not going anywhere but down that tunnel."
MacGyver looked at him, wondering if he'd been this stubborn at Daniel's age. He had a feeling that the answer was 'hell, yes!' so he didn't say more than a weak, "I have rope in my pack, you know. I could tie you up."
Daniel didn't smile. "Maybe. But there's nothing to tie me to. I'd just come after you."
"Wrists and ankles."
"I'd crawl."
"Wrists to ankles."
"I'd roll."
"You are one annoying guy, you know that?" MacGyver blew out a gusty sigh. "Fine. But you stay behind me."
Daniel smiled. It was that secretive, knowing smile again. "If that's where you want me."
"Knock it off," MacGyver told him wearily.
"You don't want to play any more?" Daniel looked… MacGyver didn't know. Bruised a little, maybe. As if he'd had some suspicion confirmed.
"No. I don't want to play." MacGyver reached out, took a handful of Daniel's shirt and pulled him in for a kiss that he broke as soon as Daniel began to respond.
Which meant, as kisses go, it was on the short side.
"Pete's my boss. Twenty years older, and put a beard on him and he'd do a good Santa Claus impression. So whatever you were thinking, you can stop."
Daniel was licking his lip, curiously, thoughtfully, a faint flush rising in his thin cheeks. "I wasn't expecting you to do that."
"I wasn't planning on doing that," Mac told him. "Now, can we explore?" He waved at the tunnel. "Hello? Secret passage!"
"More fun than kissing me?"
"Well…" MacGyver grimaced apologetically. "Sorta."
Daniel grinned. "I think so, too."
"I guessed that about you so my feelings aren't hurt."
He got a sidelong look. "I don't think you guess; you work things out."
"Sometimes. And sometimes I just hope and get lucky. Like tonight." He took a chance and patted Daniel's face gently. "Real lucky."
When Daniel smiled and poured the sugar on, it took your breath away. Mac started down the tunnel and didn't look back. He knew Daniel would be close behind, and he was beginning to reconsider the relative fun factor of a dusty tunnel leading, probably, to nothing more exciting than a distant patch of desert and a truck to spirit away stolen goods.
Or a giant underground cavern, dimly lit by phosphorescence on walls and distant ceiling, so deep the light of his flashlight was lost in the gloom, so wide he couldn't see the other side.
Or maybe that was because he'd turned dizzy just looking at the narrow stone bridge crossing the fathomless gulf.
"I'll be honest with you, Daniel," he managed to say. "Not so good with heights."
Daniel peered at the drop. "I'll be just as honest back. They terrify me."
"All that space--"
"Empty space."
"Yeah. And the hard stuff at the bottom."
"That would be the ground."
"That we'll hit when we fall off."
"And plummet to our certain death, yes." Daniel grimaced. "We're in trouble, aren't we?"
"Oh, yeah."
MacGyver wasn't looking at the drop anymore. He was looking at the second man today to point a gun at him. Who was flanked by two other men with guns.
Putting his flashlight down, and raising his hands slowly, he cleared his throat. "Daniel? Are these your friends from earlier?"
"What?" Daniel whirled around and froze. "Uh. Yes. Where did they come from?"
The man in the middle smiled. "We've been standing here waiting for you, Mr. Jackson. You and your companion make a remarkable amount of noise, you know."
"They were lurking behind the rock, Daniel," MacGyver said pleasantly, spotting the outcrop to their left. "Like …oh, what lurks?"
"Rats?"
"I think they scurry. And possibly nibble."
"Cockroaches?"
MacGyver waggled his finger. "You know, you might be onto something there! We'll go with roaches."
"Insulting me is neither wise nor productive," the man said evenly.
"But it's so much fun. Don't deny us the chance to die smiling." MacGyver lifted his eyebrows. "I assume you are planning on killing us?"
"Not immediately, no, but I'm afraid that will be your ultimate fate. Tidier, don't you think?"
MacGyver opened his mouth, intending to keep the conversation going -- it beat moving on to whatever the guy had in mind for them --when Daniel spoke up, his gaze fixed on the man dressed in loose robes, his dark face troubled, although the hand holding the gun was steady enough. "You; you're Ali's grandfather, aren't you? He pointed you out to me when we were working on the west side; he was so pleased you were there on a day when he'd made a discovery." Daniel turned his head and addressed MacGyver, ignoring the two men MacGyver had labeled 'The Suit' and 'The Thug' for want of an introduction. "Ali was responsible for us finding the rubbish dump; we'd been searching for it for days. So much information in there; so much to learn about their diet, their everyday life--"
"Fascinating, Mr. Jackson," the man interrupted. "But I hardly think Ali here is all that entertained by the notion of his namesake grubbing about in the dirt for pennies. Not when he's about to become a very rich man by helping me."
"I know this man, Mr. Cartwright," Ali said slowly. "He was kind to my grandson. I will not see harm come to him."
"If harm is needed, I'm sure Simon will oblige, won't you, Simon? And you can look away and thus feel no guilt whatsoever."
The thug didn't look like a Simon to MacGyver. More like a … no, 'Thug' suited him best. Tall, broad-shouldered, a faint scar running down his cheek, disappearing into thick, close-cropped black hair… ten a penny at first glance, but his gray eyes weren't entirely sane. Mr. Cartwright, on the other hand, looked like a businessman; late fifties, trim and neat. An accountant, a banker, a lawyer, maybe; not the sort you'd expect to find in a mysterious Egyptian cavern holding a gun.
"I will not. Killing? You said nothing of this." Ali shook his head, his gun now pointing, not at Daniel and MacGyver, but at his companions, although Mac didn't think it was deliberate. Ali looked distressed, which made MacGyver wonder just what cover story he'd been fed. "The treasure, yes; that belongs to my people, and your help to keep it here is appreciated, but --"
Simon laughed, a short bark of amusement that completed Ali's disillusionment more effectively than any amount of words. Ali's mouth hardened and he aimed the gun at Cartwright. "You will let them go! And then you will leave this place. Despoilers! Thieves!"
Simon moved, a smooth series of movements, too fast for MacGyver to intercept, stepping back, across, and then lashing out with his foot in a brutal kick. Ali cried out, his finger tightening on the trigger of his gun, a bullet firing, the flat crack lost in his scream as he toppled backwards.
MacGyver and Daniel surged forward as one, ignoring Cartwright's rapped out order for them to stay where they were. Mac felt his fingers brush Ali's sleeve and then the man was falling, his anguished scream heartbreaking to hear, but still easier to listen to than the silence that ended it.
"You murdering bastards!" MacGyver yelled, rounding on Cartwright and Simon, his arm going out to prevent Daniel getting any closer to the edge. "There was no need for that. He wasn't any danger to you."
"Now, he isn't," Cartwright agreed. "And please don't raise your voice to me. Mr. Jackson, I need; your services can, I think, be dispensed with."
"No, they can't," Daniel said flatly. "If you need me, it's for what I know." He nodded at MacGyver. "MacGyver's the expert consultant Professor Blake brought in; he's too valuable to kill."
Cartwright hesitated, his gaze traveling between them, seeing more than MacGyver was comfortable with. "You two know each other well?"
MacGyver took a look at his watch. "Met him less than six hours ago. Total strangers."
"Hmm."
"It's true," Daniel said wearily. "And if you need me for something, why did you just try and bash my head in?"
"An oversight." Cartwright gave Simon a reproving look. "Simon was supposed to discourage you for long enough to let us complete a little piece of business. I was also curious as to your abilities to deduce the method of opening up the passageway. A little test, shall we say."
"Piece of cake," MacGyver said, trying to distract Cartwright's attention from Daniel before Daniel said something they'd both end up regretting. "Your footsteps ended at a section of the wall --"
"I realised that the seemingly meaningless symbols on the wall were, if pressed in the correct order, a pictorial representation of the life of an ibis --" Daniel continued.
"And I found out that the lock hidden behind the dying ibis was just the right shape to be picked by the reamer on my pocket knife."
Cartwright smiled, and MacGyver winced. Okay, telling the bad guy you had a weapon wasn't clever. Wasn't clever at all.
"How enterprising of you both. Very well, for now you both live." He held out his hand. "Your knife, MacGyver? And your pack, too, I think."
MacGyver slipped his knife out of his pocket, weighing it in his hand regretfully before adding it to the contents of his pack. He let the pack hang from his hand, half-contemplating sending it swinging into Simon's stomach and letting him join Ali. Cartwright smiled thinly and trained his gun on Daniel. "I don't think so. Drop it and step away."
Simon scooped the pack up and slung it over his shoulder, leaving MacGyver feeling on the dismal side of depressed. Not because of the loss of his gear, exactly. No; it was because as far as he could see, there was only one direction they were likely to be going in.
"Off you go. Jackson first, then you, MacGyver."
"Now, I would, but --"
"Neither of you likes heights. I know." Cartwright gestured with his gun. "Look at without fear clouding your vision and tell me what you see."
Daniel obeyed him, and after a moment, Mac did, too, staring at the stone pathway, the top of a solid wall of stone, a few yards wide.
"This was once a floor," Cartwright said softly.
"Yes…" Daniel said, his voice sharpening with interest. "It's not a bridge; it's what's left of the floor." His hand touched Mac's arm fleetingly. "Look; it's not straight; it runs in an irregular line. And it's not the same width."
MacGyver frowned at what he'd only glanced at, letting the picture reassemble itself for his wondering eyes. Daniel was right. But if that was so…
"Where did it all go? Thousands of tons of rock; if the floor had subsided, it would still need somewhere to go."
"It was mined," Cartwright told him, his eyes gleaming. "By the gods. Look at what is left; the wall of stone. See how it shines… gold. This was all gold. And I have found where it was stored after it was processed. Untold ingots, waiting throughout the centuries for a man of vision to discover what the gods left behind."
"Uh, right…" MacGyver had heard this before. "Gods. Gold. Dreams of avarice when you're tucked up at night, crazy flakes for breakfast in the morning. Got it."
Simon's fist hurt when it connected with his jaw, but it was worth it to have shattered Cartwright's calm, if only briefly, and for the flash of concern and anger in Daniel's eyes.
MacGyver spat out a mouthful of blood from a cut lip and smiled sourly at Simon. "Gee, I had no idea you liked me that much."
"How did you know?" Daniel asked suddenly. "This -- I should have known about this place. It's incredible. There would have been records, references…"
"Your parents knew," Cartwright said casually. "I'm sure they would have mentioned it to you in all good time. If they hadn't died, that is. Unfortunate accident; it set my plans back by years, you know."
Daniel closed his eyes, the grief he felt evident. MacGyver bit down savagely on his cut lip, needing the pain to keep his head clear in case he had to intervene and hold Daniel back. He'd read Daniel's file; he knew what had happened to his parents. But when Daniel's eyes opened, they were empty of emotion. Without a word, he turned and began to walk across the narrow causeway, leaving MacGyver no choice but to follow him.
"You can't outrun a bullet," Cartwright called, his voice amused. "So don't get too far ahead, will you?"
That really wasn't going to be a problem. Taking small, shuffling steps, sweat breaking out on him, even in the cool, dry air, MacGyver walked forward, his eyes fixed on Daniel's back.
It was turning out to be one hell of a day.
Part Five
Previous parts are here.
Buried Dreams
Part Four
It turned out to be a tunnel, lit by guttering torches at intervals, and with air that smelled fresh enough to get MacGyver thinking. He snapped his knife closed and inspected a broken fingernail before chewing it level. By the time it was, he'd come to a decision.
"You need to go back and wake up --"
"No."
"I hadn't finished." Daniel tried to push past, and MacGyver grabbed his arm, concern and determination wiping out the low burn of need he'd been feeling off and on since he'd first seen Daniel, bent over the Jeep and cursing up a storm. "You wake up the professor --"
"The one who said this was a storeroom? The one who's been blocking every suggestion I made to open the door, and then did it while I was out getting supplies we didn't need, in a Jeep he had to know wasn't roadworthy? That professor?" Daniel shook off Mac's arm. "The one you're really friendly with?"
"I know him. It's not the same thing." Mac reconsidered. "But someone I know really well, and trust 100%, likes him, so I guess he gets to be on the good guy list for now."
"A man?"
"What?"
"The person you trust; a man?"
"Pete, yeah. He's my --"
"It doesn't matter." Daniel's lips folded in a straight line, his face a shade paler in the light of MacGyver's torch.
"No, it doesn't," MacGyver agreed, a little baffled but game. "What matters is finding the people who hurt you, who are most likely the people behind the thefts, which I'm not going to insult you by asking if you know about, because a bright guy like you knows everything that's going on, right?"
"Some of it." Daniel sounded unsure. "The workers like me, but they don't know who's doing it, or why. It's nothing valuable you see; well, some of it is, but a lot was really odd stuff that didn't seem to fit with what we expected to find. There was this decorative glove…" He shook his head and then winced, putting a cautious hand to the bump he'd been given. "Anyway, whether your… friend likes him or not, I don't trust Professor Blake, I'm having second thoughts about you, and I'm not going anywhere but down that tunnel."
MacGyver looked at him, wondering if he'd been this stubborn at Daniel's age. He had a feeling that the answer was 'hell, yes!' so he didn't say more than a weak, "I have rope in my pack, you know. I could tie you up."
Daniel didn't smile. "Maybe. But there's nothing to tie me to. I'd just come after you."
"Wrists and ankles."
"I'd crawl."
"Wrists to ankles."
"I'd roll."
"You are one annoying guy, you know that?" MacGyver blew out a gusty sigh. "Fine. But you stay behind me."
Daniel smiled. It was that secretive, knowing smile again. "If that's where you want me."
"Knock it off," MacGyver told him wearily.
"You don't want to play any more?" Daniel looked… MacGyver didn't know. Bruised a little, maybe. As if he'd had some suspicion confirmed.
"No. I don't want to play." MacGyver reached out, took a handful of Daniel's shirt and pulled him in for a kiss that he broke as soon as Daniel began to respond.
Which meant, as kisses go, it was on the short side.
"Pete's my boss. Twenty years older, and put a beard on him and he'd do a good Santa Claus impression. So whatever you were thinking, you can stop."
Daniel was licking his lip, curiously, thoughtfully, a faint flush rising in his thin cheeks. "I wasn't expecting you to do that."
"I wasn't planning on doing that," Mac told him. "Now, can we explore?" He waved at the tunnel. "Hello? Secret passage!"
"More fun than kissing me?"
"Well…" MacGyver grimaced apologetically. "Sorta."
Daniel grinned. "I think so, too."
"I guessed that about you so my feelings aren't hurt."
He got a sidelong look. "I don't think you guess; you work things out."
"Sometimes. And sometimes I just hope and get lucky. Like tonight." He took a chance and patted Daniel's face gently. "Real lucky."
When Daniel smiled and poured the sugar on, it took your breath away. Mac started down the tunnel and didn't look back. He knew Daniel would be close behind, and he was beginning to reconsider the relative fun factor of a dusty tunnel leading, probably, to nothing more exciting than a distant patch of desert and a truck to spirit away stolen goods.
Or a giant underground cavern, dimly lit by phosphorescence on walls and distant ceiling, so deep the light of his flashlight was lost in the gloom, so wide he couldn't see the other side.
Or maybe that was because he'd turned dizzy just looking at the narrow stone bridge crossing the fathomless gulf.
"I'll be honest with you, Daniel," he managed to say. "Not so good with heights."
Daniel peered at the drop. "I'll be just as honest back. They terrify me."
"All that space--"
"Empty space."
"Yeah. And the hard stuff at the bottom."
"That would be the ground."
"That we'll hit when we fall off."
"And plummet to our certain death, yes." Daniel grimaced. "We're in trouble, aren't we?"
"Oh, yeah."
MacGyver wasn't looking at the drop anymore. He was looking at the second man today to point a gun at him. Who was flanked by two other men with guns.
Putting his flashlight down, and raising his hands slowly, he cleared his throat. "Daniel? Are these your friends from earlier?"
"What?" Daniel whirled around and froze. "Uh. Yes. Where did they come from?"
The man in the middle smiled. "We've been standing here waiting for you, Mr. Jackson. You and your companion make a remarkable amount of noise, you know."
"They were lurking behind the rock, Daniel," MacGyver said pleasantly, spotting the outcrop to their left. "Like …oh, what lurks?"
"Rats?"
"I think they scurry. And possibly nibble."
"Cockroaches?"
MacGyver waggled his finger. "You know, you might be onto something there! We'll go with roaches."
"Insulting me is neither wise nor productive," the man said evenly.
"But it's so much fun. Don't deny us the chance to die smiling." MacGyver lifted his eyebrows. "I assume you are planning on killing us?"
"Not immediately, no, but I'm afraid that will be your ultimate fate. Tidier, don't you think?"
MacGyver opened his mouth, intending to keep the conversation going -- it beat moving on to whatever the guy had in mind for them --when Daniel spoke up, his gaze fixed on the man dressed in loose robes, his dark face troubled, although the hand holding the gun was steady enough. "You; you're Ali's grandfather, aren't you? He pointed you out to me when we were working on the west side; he was so pleased you were there on a day when he'd made a discovery." Daniel turned his head and addressed MacGyver, ignoring the two men MacGyver had labeled 'The Suit' and 'The Thug' for want of an introduction. "Ali was responsible for us finding the rubbish dump; we'd been searching for it for days. So much information in there; so much to learn about their diet, their everyday life--"
"Fascinating, Mr. Jackson," the man interrupted. "But I hardly think Ali here is all that entertained by the notion of his namesake grubbing about in the dirt for pennies. Not when he's about to become a very rich man by helping me."
"I know this man, Mr. Cartwright," Ali said slowly. "He was kind to my grandson. I will not see harm come to him."
"If harm is needed, I'm sure Simon will oblige, won't you, Simon? And you can look away and thus feel no guilt whatsoever."
The thug didn't look like a Simon to MacGyver. More like a … no, 'Thug' suited him best. Tall, broad-shouldered, a faint scar running down his cheek, disappearing into thick, close-cropped black hair… ten a penny at first glance, but his gray eyes weren't entirely sane. Mr. Cartwright, on the other hand, looked like a businessman; late fifties, trim and neat. An accountant, a banker, a lawyer, maybe; not the sort you'd expect to find in a mysterious Egyptian cavern holding a gun.
"I will not. Killing? You said nothing of this." Ali shook his head, his gun now pointing, not at Daniel and MacGyver, but at his companions, although Mac didn't think it was deliberate. Ali looked distressed, which made MacGyver wonder just what cover story he'd been fed. "The treasure, yes; that belongs to my people, and your help to keep it here is appreciated, but --"
Simon laughed, a short bark of amusement that completed Ali's disillusionment more effectively than any amount of words. Ali's mouth hardened and he aimed the gun at Cartwright. "You will let them go! And then you will leave this place. Despoilers! Thieves!"
Simon moved, a smooth series of movements, too fast for MacGyver to intercept, stepping back, across, and then lashing out with his foot in a brutal kick. Ali cried out, his finger tightening on the trigger of his gun, a bullet firing, the flat crack lost in his scream as he toppled backwards.
MacGyver and Daniel surged forward as one, ignoring Cartwright's rapped out order for them to stay where they were. Mac felt his fingers brush Ali's sleeve and then the man was falling, his anguished scream heartbreaking to hear, but still easier to listen to than the silence that ended it.
"You murdering bastards!" MacGyver yelled, rounding on Cartwright and Simon, his arm going out to prevent Daniel getting any closer to the edge. "There was no need for that. He wasn't any danger to you."
"Now, he isn't," Cartwright agreed. "And please don't raise your voice to me. Mr. Jackson, I need; your services can, I think, be dispensed with."
"No, they can't," Daniel said flatly. "If you need me, it's for what I know." He nodded at MacGyver. "MacGyver's the expert consultant Professor Blake brought in; he's too valuable to kill."
Cartwright hesitated, his gaze traveling between them, seeing more than MacGyver was comfortable with. "You two know each other well?"
MacGyver took a look at his watch. "Met him less than six hours ago. Total strangers."
"Hmm."
"It's true," Daniel said wearily. "And if you need me for something, why did you just try and bash my head in?"
"An oversight." Cartwright gave Simon a reproving look. "Simon was supposed to discourage you for long enough to let us complete a little piece of business. I was also curious as to your abilities to deduce the method of opening up the passageway. A little test, shall we say."
"Piece of cake," MacGyver said, trying to distract Cartwright's attention from Daniel before Daniel said something they'd both end up regretting. "Your footsteps ended at a section of the wall --"
"I realised that the seemingly meaningless symbols on the wall were, if pressed in the correct order, a pictorial representation of the life of an ibis --" Daniel continued.
"And I found out that the lock hidden behind the dying ibis was just the right shape to be picked by the reamer on my pocket knife."
Cartwright smiled, and MacGyver winced. Okay, telling the bad guy you had a weapon wasn't clever. Wasn't clever at all.
"How enterprising of you both. Very well, for now you both live." He held out his hand. "Your knife, MacGyver? And your pack, too, I think."
MacGyver slipped his knife out of his pocket, weighing it in his hand regretfully before adding it to the contents of his pack. He let the pack hang from his hand, half-contemplating sending it swinging into Simon's stomach and letting him join Ali. Cartwright smiled thinly and trained his gun on Daniel. "I don't think so. Drop it and step away."
Simon scooped the pack up and slung it over his shoulder, leaving MacGyver feeling on the dismal side of depressed. Not because of the loss of his gear, exactly. No; it was because as far as he could see, there was only one direction they were likely to be going in.
"Off you go. Jackson first, then you, MacGyver."
"Now, I would, but --"
"Neither of you likes heights. I know." Cartwright gestured with his gun. "Look at without fear clouding your vision and tell me what you see."
Daniel obeyed him, and after a moment, Mac did, too, staring at the stone pathway, the top of a solid wall of stone, a few yards wide.
"This was once a floor," Cartwright said softly.
"Yes…" Daniel said, his voice sharpening with interest. "It's not a bridge; it's what's left of the floor." His hand touched Mac's arm fleetingly. "Look; it's not straight; it runs in an irregular line. And it's not the same width."
MacGyver frowned at what he'd only glanced at, letting the picture reassemble itself for his wondering eyes. Daniel was right. But if that was so…
"Where did it all go? Thousands of tons of rock; if the floor had subsided, it would still need somewhere to go."
"It was mined," Cartwright told him, his eyes gleaming. "By the gods. Look at what is left; the wall of stone. See how it shines… gold. This was all gold. And I have found where it was stored after it was processed. Untold ingots, waiting throughout the centuries for a man of vision to discover what the gods left behind."
"Uh, right…" MacGyver had heard this before. "Gods. Gold. Dreams of avarice when you're tucked up at night, crazy flakes for breakfast in the morning. Got it."
Simon's fist hurt when it connected with his jaw, but it was worth it to have shattered Cartwright's calm, if only briefly, and for the flash of concern and anger in Daniel's eyes.
MacGyver spat out a mouthful of blood from a cut lip and smiled sourly at Simon. "Gee, I had no idea you liked me that much."
"How did you know?" Daniel asked suddenly. "This -- I should have known about this place. It's incredible. There would have been records, references…"
"Your parents knew," Cartwright said casually. "I'm sure they would have mentioned it to you in all good time. If they hadn't died, that is. Unfortunate accident; it set my plans back by years, you know."
Daniel closed his eyes, the grief he felt evident. MacGyver bit down savagely on his cut lip, needing the pain to keep his head clear in case he had to intervene and hold Daniel back. He'd read Daniel's file; he knew what had happened to his parents. But when Daniel's eyes opened, they were empty of emotion. Without a word, he turned and began to walk across the narrow causeway, leaving MacGyver no choice but to follow him.
"You can't outrun a bullet," Cartwright called, his voice amused. "So don't get too far ahead, will you?"
That really wasn't going to be a problem. Taking small, shuffling steps, sweat breaking out on him, even in the cool, dry air, MacGyver walked forward, his eyes fixed on Daniel's back.
It was turning out to be one hell of a day.
Part Five