Outside Interference
Teaser
"She was designed to be the perfect soldier…"
"Oh, Christ. Not that damned opening again." I rolled my eyes as I walked upstairs to my room. I hated the way Cameron and that other guy – the unimportant one, that nobody remembered; uh…Eglee! – insisted on showing it to us for every episode. It was too cheesy, and it tried to make the series seem more epic than it really was. I was glad they finally cut that crap out by the end of the first season.
I mean, I liked the show and all, but come on. They didn't need
two openings for one show. Either they make Logan's voiceover at the beginning of each episode the opening, or they make the title sequence the opening. One or the other. Not both."Together…who knows?" came the haunting question of Logan Cale.
It was a dark night when the shadowy man pulled up to the steel gate in front of his house. He reached out and paged a guard, who recognized him immediately. He pushed a button, causing the large gates, with his address of 439 Littleton Ave in gold-plated letters across the front, to slide open. The man drove his car up the long, winding driveway, passing by the security cameras. He could dimly make out some of the guards off in the distance, protecting him from intruders.
He drove up to his 3-car garage and parked. He pushed 0 – 3 – 2 – 8 on the keypad to unlock the front door of his enormous house, and stepped into the dark room, putting his suitcase down next to him. Groping for the light, he felt a moment of relief as the blackness sprung into dark, natural colors. He wasn't into all the sterile, black-and-whites of postmodern furnishings, and his wooden furniture gave his house a relaxed atmosphere that contrasted starkly with the kind of business he performed within its walls.
But right now his mind wasn't on the décor. He crossed to the back wall and opened up the hidden compartment behind the large painting over his couch. He typed in his password (0328 again), and watched as one of the bare walls slide out, revealing a small room.
Inside the room, computer screen stared back at him, while four telephones (each a different line) left a clutter of cords along the floor. There was also a faxing machine, a printer, and a copying machine.
Suddenly one of the telephones began ringing. He jumped at the piercing sound, and immediately sweat formed on his brow. It was the red phone; the one he least wanted to hear from right now. Taking a breath to calm himself, he picked up the receiver. "Yes?"
"Good evening, Walter," came a sinister voice.
Walter squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of the voice. "Mr. Forbes. Is there anything I can do for you?"
"I'm actually calling to remind you about the shipment tonight. You do remember, don't you?"
"Yeah," Walter answered. "42,000 condensed bricks. I know."
"Well, perhaps you'd better get over there, Walter. I'm trusting this entire operation to you. It's the largest we've ever performed, and if anything should happen…well, you'll be a very unfortunate man."
"I understand, sir, and I'm on my way."
"I'm glad to hear it," the voice said.
Click.
Walter waited a moment to steady himself, then left the room.
~~~~~
It was raining as the headlights of Walter's car pierced the darkness of the harbor. Silhouetted against the lights of the boat floating silently in the distance were armed men, walking along the docks and among the crates that lay stacked on the ground. Walter stepped out of his car and waved the nearest guard off, who had drawn his gun when the car pulled up.
He made his way up the gangplank to the boat, where he was startled by a voice behind him.
"Mr. Johnson?"
Walter turned around. "That's right. Aaron Johnson. And you are…?"
"I'm Dwayne Allbright, the captain."
"Where are the immigrants?" demanded Walter.
"They're being guarded in that building, sir, until you tell us to bring them on board. I know this is your operation and all that, but I don't really think the immigrants need an armed escort back to Mexico."
Walter nodded. "All right. Tell me something, Mr. Allbright. Do you know what the conditions are in Mexico right now?"
When he saw Dwayne's blank, he continued. "Well, suffice it to say that, despite the Pulse, things in the U.S. are still better off than they are down there. These immigrants have gone to great lengths to get here and remain anonymous, so they aren't too thrilled about being shipped back down there. Many of them came here to escape prosecution for crimes they've committed."
Dwayne's eyes were widened in fright. "So perhaps now you understand why my men and I are coming along, hmm?" Walter asked.
He left the captain standing there speechless. As he walked down the hall of the ship, he thought he saw a shadow move out of the corner of his eyes. When he looked it was gone, so he shrugged it off and entered the cabin.
His eyes narrowed when he saw what was lying on his desk. It was a small laptop computer. Beside it, standing on a tripod, was a small digital camcorder.
Cautiously Walter approached the screen. As he did, the screen flickered to life, displaying two intense eyes between the words EYES ONLY, scrolling at the top and bottom of the screen.
"Mr. Erhardt, I would presume?" came a voice.
Walter scowled. "You must have me mistaken for someone else," he said.
The eyes blinked. "Enough with the cover-up, Walter. I know who you are, and you know who I am."
Walter nodded. "I heard of you. Eyes Only. 'The last free voice in the world,' or something like that."
"Something like that."
Walter chuckled. "You know, you really crack me up. Hiding under your little rock crying out to the world to put an end to evil and corruption, but taking no real action. If you had any balls, you'd be here talking face to face with me." His voice took on a hard tone. "You're a coward trying to act all patriotic and honorable, but by doing what? Your little video hacks never stop the real corruption. You take them out, and another fill their place."
"Let's dispense with the pleasantries," the disembodies voice continued. "I'm a busy a man, here in my 'little rock,' and I want to make this brief. I know about the cocaine shipment your boss is exporting along with the immigrants. But maybe what your boss doesn't know is that only about half of the immigrants are being exported. And what space they don't occupy you plan to fill with your own little shipment of his cocaine. And I'm sure he'd be interested when he finds out that you don't intend on giving him the profits from any extra purchases. Here's the deal: you go back and tell your boss that the city will no longer fund your little drug trafficking scheme, and I won't tell them about you. I'm giving you a chance to quietly step out before I alert the city about your business. Consider this a warning."
"And if I don't?" countered Mr. Erhardt.
"Then you'll go down with them," came the simple reply.
Walter walked right up to the camcorder. "You don't seem to understand. My boss pays much of the police's payroll. He'll convince 'em to look the other way."
Walter detected a bit of amusement along the creases of the eyes on the screen. "Not if the evidence is too strong."
Suddenly there was shouting from the harbor. Walter rushed to the window. Gunfire erupted from the land, and he saw a distinct figure running across the driveway into the bushes. He had never seen anyone run so fast. He turned back to the screen, and saw that it had been disconnected.
Then he felt the first explosion. The ship rocked beneath him, and he lurched onto the desk, knocking the laptop and camcorder to the floor. He swore aloud, and staggered over to the window as another explosion, closer this time, tipped the floor up at a sharp angle. The window was designed to be an emergency exit, he saw, and he pulled open the handle on the glass as fast as he could. He knocked out the final pane and jumped from the boat just as the room behind him exploded. He landed in the dark waters as he saw the ship burst into flame and roll away from him. He surfaced from its depths, and saw as his ship, and all the money that would have come from it, sink into the swirling depths.
"All right, we're off to a good start," I said to no one as I took a drink from my soda. We've already had an explosion in the first three minutes of the episode. Everyone likes explosions."
It had been sprinkling outside for awhile now, but suddenly there was a loud clap of thunder. I saw the world light up for a few instances outside my window. Looked like a real storm was coming.
Nevertheless, I suffered through the opening sequence, waited for the spinning-baby-becomes-a-closeup-of-Max's-eye bit, and settled in for a nice, quality tampon commercial. Five more – an SUV, toothpaste, Internet company, AT&T, and wireless phone commercial, in that order – later, and the show began proper.
Chapter 1
Logan Cale sat surveying the destruction. Some of the wood scattered across the docks had caught fire from the explosion last night, and the armed guards had scattered before the police would show up. As fire officials took the statements of the few remaining onlookers, he shook his head. "You weren't supposed to do anything until I got a reply from him, Max."
Beside him, a young woman shrugged. "We both knew what the answer was going to be. I figured, why waste all of our time?"
"Yeah, but a bomb?" he demanded, exasperated. "You couldn't think of anything more…subtle?"
"It got the point across, didn't it?" she asked, dismissing it. "Besides, I gave him plenty of time to escape. If he couldn't make it out in time, then it would be his own sorry fault."
Logan motioned with his head across the parking lot. "There he is."
Walter Erhardt was showing a police officer his drivers license. "My name is Aaron Johnson, officer."
"And what were you doing out here at such a late hour, sir?" asked the policeman.
"I was coming home from a late night when I saw an explosion in the distance. I came by to see what happened. I'm not in any trouble, am I?"
"No, no," the officer said, shaking his head. "That'll be enough. Thank you for your cooperation."
As Walter eyed the crowds resentfully, he paused at the young brunette next to the man in a wheelchair. She was quite a sight.
Logan saw him leave. "You left the message in his car, right?" he asked Max.
She snorted. "Logan. Look who you're talking to."
He grinned. "All right, all right."
~~~~~
At 7:00 PM Walter Erhardt pulled up to a pay phone in the parking lot of a convenience store. He needed only to wait a few moments before the phone rang. He picked it up. "Yeah," he said.
"You got my message," came the voice.
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't," snapped Walter.
"Go behind the store. You'll see a computer and camcorder. I like to be able to see who I'm talking about," the voice said, then hung up.
Furious, but figuring he had little choice, Walter checked his surroundings before sneaking to the back. Sure enough, there was the same setup he'd found last night. He flipped open the laptop and switched on the camcorder. "You must have some money to able to waste equipment like this," he said when the eyes appeared.
"I may not make the kind of money you do, Mr. Erhardt, but it serves my purposes."
"Yeah, whatever. You got something to tell me?"
"You know about last night, so you know what I'm capable of. That was warning, and this is your last chance. You come clean on this, and I promise you'll be safe. I won't let the police do anything to you."
Another clap of thunder and the flickering of lights caught my attention. "Oh, great," I said. "If the power goes out now, I'm going to be really pissed."
"That's what you'll say now," Walter said, "but when it comes time to point fingers, your will be squarely aimed at me."
"I'm a man of my word, Mr. Erhardt," Logan said from his penthouse. "If nothing else, believe me about that."
Another flash of lightning, and the power went out. I was in total darkness, my only source of light coming from the TV screen.
The TV screen…
"What the hell?" I asked. If we lost power, how could the TV still be on. I walked over to the TV, which showed Logan in his penthouse talking to his computer screen. I reached out to touch the screen, almost as if to make sure it really was there, when there was a brilliant flash of lightning, very close, followed by a clap of thunder that seemed to be all around me. I stumbled, blinded and deaf, and caught my leg on the corner of the couch, which sent me sprawling.
I fell across what felt like a table, knocking something sitting on top to the floor. Then I stumbled and rolled over the edge of the table and found myself sprawled on the floor.
~~~~~
For a brief moment, as Walter watched the screen from the back of the store, he saw it tip sideways from some unseen commotion, revealing the entire face of the man. Then the screen went dark. He thought about the face, and how familiar it seemed.
~~~~~
Meanwhile, I stood up, blinking my eyes a few times. "Dude, that was not cool." My eyes focused on the desk in front of me, and the man sitting in the wheelchair with a look of shock and fear in his eyes.
"AAAAAAAAH!" I cried, jumping the back. "Who the hell are you!? And what the hell do you want!? And how the hell did you get inside my…" my voice trailed off. I took a better look around. I wasn't at home anymore. In fact, it almost, almost looked like…
"I should be asking you those questions," the man said, interrupting my thoughts. "Who are you, what do you want, and just how the hell did you get inside my house?"
My head was spinning. "I don't know," I said. I shook my head (I had a pounding headache) and squeezed my eyes shut in concentration. "But I was…uh, I was watching TV just now…and, uh, damn, this looks just like his apartment…" I looked at the man in the wheelchair. "Man, he looks just like Logan Cale from the show too, but how, um, how – first, how did I get here? Where am I?" I was talking more to myself, but the guy wheeled right up to me and looked me straight in the face.
"How do you know who I am?" he asked. "You don't strike me as much of a thief."
I stared blankly at him. Suddenly recognition dawned, and I put a hand to my mouth. "Ho…ly…crap! I can't believe this! This can't be happening. I feel like that one kid from Last Action Hero."
"Who are you?" Logan asked. "How did you get here?"
"My name's Stephen Hentchel," I answered. "And I got here from…ha ha, this is awesome!" I walked around, leaving Logan frowning with confusion. "I can't believe this!"
"You said that already," Logan said, wheeling over to where I was standing in awe. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm in the show," I answered.
"What show?"
"What do you mean, 'what show?'" I asked. "This show. Dark Angel." I laughed. "This is the kind of thing that only happens in a fanfic."
"Are you all right?" he asked. "You sure you didn't injure yourself when you fell?"
"That could be it," I said, snapping my fingers. "I hit my head and I'm unconscious. And since I was watching Dark Angel when I fell, that was the last thing that was going through my mind. So I'm just dreaming now."
"You not dreaming," Logan said calmly. "You're really here. What I want to know is, how did you get here, and what do you want?"
"Are you sure I'm not dreaming?" I asked him. Then I shook my head. "What am I doing? Asking a character in my dream if I'm dreaming. That's hilarious." I started pacing again. "It must have been luck, really." I turned to Logan. "You were doing that interview with Walter Erhardt when-"
"How do you know about that?" Logan asked suddenly. "How long have you been in here?"
Immediately I stopped talking, and looked around. I was suddenly feeling very self-conscious. If I really was in this episode, did that mean people were watching me at home on their TVs? And how would my being here screw up the plot? More importantly, did it even matter?
"I asked you a question," Logan stated firmly. "You have no idea how dangerous that person is."
"Well," I said slowly, "I was watching you talk to him the whole time" – which I was, I thought, so it's technically not lying – "and I recognize the guy. The camera kept shifting from your apartment to the backside of the store, so when I was pulled into the TV, it was during the scene here. If the camera was on that guy, I'd be there right now. So I guess I was lucky."
Logan stared at me, then shrugged it off. "How do you know that man?"
"I've seen him around," I replied. Then I had an idea. "In fact…I could probably help you find him."
Logan leaned back in his wheelchair, and regarded me with a new interest.
~~~~~
Max headed to her locker to grab her helmet. It was a few minutes early, she knew, but Normal wasn't anywhere around, and she figured if she could just sneak out early…
"You know, whatever you and your friends do in your spare time is none of my business." She jumped and whirled around. There he was standing in front of her, his jaw set in an expression of mockery. "However, it becomes my business before 8:00, which if you'll remember is when you're still supposed to be here."
"Hey," Max said defensively, "I have other things to do."
"Really," said Normal. "And may I inquire as to what you had to do that was more important than coming to the only place in town where ungrateful, irresponsible individuals such as yourself can earn a living?"
"Well," Max answered, "let's see. First I have to bake cookies for the homeless man down the street, then I have to help a little old lady cross the street…"
"Forget it," Normal said, rolling his eyes. "Just go."
"…then I have to rescue children from a flaming building," Max called back to him as she watched him walk away, "then I have to destroy the corruptness plaguing this fair city…" She trailed off when she knew he was out of hearing range.
"It never ceases to amaze me the level of respect and kindness evident in the employee-employer relationship of this wonderful establishment," Sketchy droned when he saw Max approach. His eyes were droopy and he tried to prop his head up on his hand.
"Anybody up for a quick drink to tap off the night?" Original Cindy asked, glancing at her friend.
"Count me out." Sketchy yawned. "I'm staggering home and going to bed."
"Sorry, but I have a dinner date with Logan," Max said apologetically.
"Oh, don't apologize," Original Cindy said, raising an eyebrow. "Original Cindy understands."
"Then what's that expression mean?" Max asked.
Original Cindy shook her head. "Boo, you may be my girl, aiight, but you need some serious work on that whole Miss Innocent thing you got going on."
"How else can a girl get a home cooked meal?" Max said defensively. "We're just friends, all right."
"See?" said Original Cindy. "Original Cindy says one simple thing, and you jump down her throat."
Herbal and Sketchy chuckled, and Max found her ears burning. "Well, anyway, I gotta go. See you guys bright and early tomorrow."
As she left, Sketchy muttered, "Not if I had anything to do with it."
She went and unfastened her bike. As she hooked the strap to her helmet, a black car pulled up the street behind her and slowed. Inside, Walter peered at the young girl and nodded to the driver. "That's her all right." He chuckled. "And she works at Jam Pony too. This was too easy. Let's see where she takes us. If we can stop Eyes Only, that'll be one less needle in our ass."
Max drove off, and the car pulled out into the lane and sped after her.
Tired and looking forward to a hot meal, Max remained completely unaware the entire trip. She pulled up to the high-rise and walked indoors, oblivious. The two men jumped out of their vehicle and followed her inside. While Walter stayed on ground level, the driver, the only one Max wouldn't recognize, walked after her. She was standing in front of the elevator nodding her head to song she was humming, and offered him a brief smile when he came to stand beside her. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside.
"What floor?" Max asked.
The driver scanned the numbers. There were twenty-four floors, and above the column of lights were also the letters "PH." "Uh, twenty-four," he said. This way, he could make a note of her floor without looking suspicious.
Suspicious, however, was exactly what Max's genetically engineered mind was thinking. It was a classic move, although she'd always been taught to take the floor beneath the upper-most; that way it wouldn't look as unusual as choosing the top floor. Also, if the person she was stalking didn't stop at any of the lower floors or the one she had chosen, then the upper floor was the only other option.
She pressed the button for the twenty-fourth, then selected the twentieth for herself. At her floor she left, and took the stairs up to Logan's apartment.
She walked into her apartment as she always did, as if she owned the place, and rounded the corner to see Logan talking with the new guest.
"Hey," she said, smiling. "Who's your little friend?"
"'Little friend,'" I repeated. "I appreciate that. It makes me feel honored."
"This," Logan said, motioning in my direction, "is Stephen Hentchel. Stephen, this is Max."
I stood up and shook her hand. "Wow, you're even hotter in person."
Max paused, and gave Logan an icy look. Logan shook his head and put a hand over his face. "You'll have to forgive him. He seemed a little disoriented when I caught him."
"Caught him?" Max asked.
"Yeah, I caught him after he'd broken into the place." Logan wheeled around and grinned at Max. "Sound familiar?" he asked warmly.
Max smiled back at him. I rolled my eyes.
"Speaking of which," Max added, "a little heads-up. Had a man in the elevator with me, and he chose the top floor. Figured he might be interested in knowing what floor I was going to, so I got him off track."
"A soldier to the end," Logan said.
"It's saved my ass more than once," Max answered. "Yours too. And you always told me to stay on guard when I dropped by."
"Fair enough." Logan was silent for a moment. "And it might be wise for awhile."
Max frowned. "What's up?"
"When I found Steve-" Logan paused and regarded me. "May I call you Steve?"
"No."
"Fair enough," Logan said. He turned to Max and took a breath. "When I found Steve, I surprised him and he knocked the camera down. I think Walter Erhardt might have caught a glimpse of my face."
Max looked worried. "Do you think he's seen you before?"
Logan sighed. "I don't know. Something like this has never happened before, and while it's not necessarily something to be alarmed about, I just wanted to let you know."
Max nodded. "You got it. So, what's for dinner?"
"Well," Logan said, "I had planned on something a little more down-to-earth tonight. Sirloin steak wrapped in seasoned bacon. I tastes better than it sounds," he added quickly. "I know it's not up to my usual culinary standards."
"What about me?" I asked.
"Uh…" Logan said, "Oh, yeah. Hmm. I might have some canned soup in the cupboard up there. Just heat it up. Check the expiration date, though. I'm not quite sure how old it is."
I waited to see if he was joking, then nodded. "All right." I went into the kitchen. "I'll just have some soup," I called back to them. "In fact, I love soup! Let's see what we have here. Ooh, 'chunky!' Oh no, wait. Heh. It expired back in the early 90s. But what's this? 'Cream of broccoli!' I'll eat like a king! All right! You guys just enjoy your steak!"
Back in the other room, Logan looked down and chuckled. "Don't let first impressions fool you. Once you get to know him, he's really quite annoying."
"I'll bet," Max answered.
Dinner conversation was mostly light, probably because I was there. Hoping to break the silence, Max asked, "So, Stephen. Have you seen me around before?"
"A few times," I answered. "Why?"
"That little comment you made," she answered. "How much" – she cleared her throat – "hotter I am in person."
Logan looked up, but didn't say anything.
"Sorry about that," I offered. "Just still a little shocked by what happened to me." If only you knew. "But yeah, I've seen you around. A few times. We're in sweeps right now, see, so it's nothing but repeats. The season finale aired a few weeks ago. I've seen this episode before, and it's not one of their better ones."
Max and Logan were silent for a moment. "Uh huh," Logan said. "Tell her what you were telling me earlier." He glanced at Max. "You should find this interesting."
I put my spoon down. "I know about that barcode thingie on the back of your neck. And I know about the Manticore thing."
Max looked at me in silent amazement. "How do you know about that?" she finally asked.
I shrugged. "They keep showing it in black-and-white flashbacks during the episodes. Usually to accentuate that something profound is happening to you. It really pisses me off."
Max leaned forward. "Okay. Anything else?"
"Well, that phase you go through every once in a while, when you go into heat? I don't mean to talk about something that's obviously embarrassing and uncomfortable, but the only reason you have it because it appeals to the young males of the viewing audience. I mean, come on. A girl who gets so horny she has to have a man or else she'll die??? Hell, I remember the preview for one episode," I added. "The second episode that had you going into heat, I think it was. It showed you on top of a soldier who was attacking the building, and you said something like, 'you better be as good as you look, solider, because I'm not one to take disappointment lying down.' Once I saw the episode, it turned out to be a dream sequence, and added nothing to the plot. But that was what they showed as part of the spoiler for next week." I took a deep breath. "Doesn't make sense, does it?"
Max nodded and tilted back. She didn't say anything, however, but rather gazed at me with a combination of confusion and genuine fear. In the silence, the only thing heard was me gagging on my Cream of Broccoli.
~~~~~
After dinner, they had to decide what to do with me.
"He should hold up here," Max suggested. "'Cause I sure don't want him at my crib."
"Thank you," I muttered.
"I think that's probably best all around," Logan said. "Your little nest isn't exactly the safest place in Seattle."
"I get by," Max answered.
"Maybe tomorrow I can convince Bling to take you around Seattle," Logan said to me. "I've got some work I need to do. Afterwards, you can tell me more about Walter Erhardt."
"Thanks," I said. "I've had a hard day, and if you don't mind I'll turn in early."
"Sure," Max and Logan said together.
I eyed them suspiciously. "Right…"
Logan and Max watched me leave, and smiled at each other.
"You know," Max said after a moment, "I've seen you offer all sorts of people safe haven around the city, but I think this is the first time you've let someone stay at your place."
Logan chuckled. "He's technically an informant, and I pride myself on keeping informants safe from harm. I get a better shelf life out of them that way."
"Still, it's sweet," Max said, trying not to let too much affection enter her voice. "And I'm wondering if I should stay too. Just to keep you safe from harm," she added.
He smiled. "I appreciate it, Max. But I think I'll be okay." He leaned back and gave her an ironic look. "It's a lonely job, being the sole voice of justice. I've had plenty of close calls before you came along. Not as many close calls, mind you, but…" his face softened and his voice became tender, "I wouldn't change a thing for the world."
For an instant their eyes locked, but it was interrupted by a scoff from Logan's bedroom.
"Would you two mind? I can't sleep with all this corny, pseudo-passionate dialogue. Logan, either kiss her, or make her go home!"
Logan and Max paused for a moment, listening to the muffled rant coming from the other room: "Jesus, it's only the first season and they're already panting for each other. Cameron and what's-his-name have no patience. They should take some advice from Chris Carter. The X Files is in its seventh season and Mulder and Scully have never been this bad…"