Disclaimer: No ownership implied, no profits realized…the e-mail format is attributed to D.A. Stern.

Clean Slate

Chapter 4

Lying Eyes

"He called me on his way over here to warn me and keep me from walking into a bad situation," Bling interjected as Logan was finishing his story. "Then he walked to the safe house, and he's been here working ever since."

"So whose body did they end up finding?" Max wondered.

"My best guess," Logan ventured, "our friend the car bomber wasn't very good at his job and triggered an explosion. I figure that if a bystander got hit by the blast, we would have heard about it by now. Someone would have been reported as missing." He reflected sadly, "A lot of people could have gotten hurt today."

"You could have gotten hurt today!" she reemphasized. She had never totally shared Logan's altruistic love of the masses; she was much more concerned with Logan's longevity than that of a dead hit man.

"But I wasn't. The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated." He smiled softly at her, still touched and amazed at her obvious concern for him. For so long his insecurities had never allowed him to believe that Max could feel anything more than detached friendship towards him. Her mere presence calmed him, and he was just so glad that she was here with him today, if only for a short time.

Logan's phone rang, and he briefly glanced at the display to see who was calling, but he didn't answer. He had been doing that a lot over the last hour. Since the news began reporting his secret identity and subsequent death, his phone had been ringing nonstop. People wanting to know what was going on, find out if he was OK, see if it was really true. He ignored them all. He had already called the people he needed to speak with and sent the appropriate codes out on the informant net. As far as everyone else was concerned, it was better if they thought him dead.

This last call gave him pause, though. It was his cousin Bennett. Logan was genuinely fond of Bennett, more than anyone else in his father's family perhaps, and he would have liked to have reassured him, but he decided against it. While Logan had paid good money to make sure his phone was secure and untraceable, he doubted that his cousin had taken the same precautions. It was entirely possible the police were sitting in Bennett's living room waiting to hear the other end of the conversation, or that the bad guys that had tracked him down also had a phone tap on every member of his family. He couldn't risk answering.

What must his family be thinking of him now? Little Logan Junior is really Eyes Only. Did they still think he was a disappointment, or did they now think he was a traitor? Logan wondered how many of them had made the connection between his broadcast and the downfall of the family business. There were probably a couple of newly impoverished relatives who hoped he really was dead. He hoped his cousin wasn't one of them.

The thought made his stomach hurt. He would think about it later, when everything calmed down some. Instead, he turned his attention back to Max.

I've got something for you," he said as he sat down next to her on the bed and handed her the small black bag.

He couldn't help but smile at her predictable feline curiosity as she showed an immediate interest in the bag and its contents. He watched her as she nodded appreciatively at the false IDs, raised her eyebrows at the large bundle of cash, smiled tenderly at the tryptophan, and looked at the disc with curious distrust. "What is all this?"

"It's just some stuff I started putting together for you awhile back. Some things you'll need if you ever need to get out of town in a hurry." He added quietly, "Like last time…" He looked at her for a moment as he remembered the 'last time' and how painful it was to part from her, knowing it was for the best but breaking his heart just the same. It seemed like it was about to happen all over again. "The disc is all the intel I've found on Manticore and the other eleven escapees, along with some notes and contact information so you can keep going without me."

She gave him a hard stare. Somehow the words "without me" were the only ones she was able to concentrate on, and she dismissed the rest of his statement as unimportant by comparison. He was leaving? Of course he was leaving! People were trying to kill him, what choice did he have? She knew it was the only option and she just had to accept it. After all, it was more important to keep him secure than to keep him close. The world needed men like Logan Cale.

But the little voice in her head persisted. Logic and practicality be damned, she didn't want to lose Logan! She had already lost him and got him back once that morning, only to find she was just going to lose him all over again. That horrible feeling of loneliness began to creep back upon her. It felt just like before, when Lydecker had closed in on her. She had found a way back to him then and pushed back the inevitable separation, but it seemed this might really be the end.

"I always figured that Manticore would find me and everyone would be after me and I would have to run. I just never thought about you being the one who would have to disappear in the dead of night." She gave him a feeble smile and stared at him with sad eyes as he gently brushed the top of her hand with his fingertips.

"I know," he whispered back, his own eyes filled with apology and regret. He continued to gently stroke the top of her hand while he desperately tried to think of something to say. It was hard to find the words that would convey the sorrow he felt at the thought of leaving her and the regret that he would carry because there would always be so much left unsaid between them. But the words seemed so inadequate and there was still so much left to do and he was uncomfortably aware of the fact that they weren't alone, so he forced himself to be content just to be able to sit near her and look at her and touch her hand for a moment.

He desperately wished there was more he could do for her; more he could give her. Max did so much for him. She saved him, from danger and from despair. Not only did she jump off of buildings to rescue him and give up her own life-blood to heal him, her mere presence gave him a good reason to get out of bed in the mornings, which hadn't been an easy thing since the shooting. She watched over him, fought for his causes, as if she were his own personal guardian angel who had come to Earth just to look over him. And what did he ever give her in return? Some incomplete information about her siblings, some medication, a few small favors here and there. Occasionally he boiled pasta for her. He reflected bitterly that there was very little he could give Max, and that was another regret he would take away with him.

Everyone in the room immediately stilled as they heard a sudden tapping noise. Max's body tensed as she got up from the bed and carefully approached the door. She could hear one body breathing outside, and she verified that by peering through the peephole in the door before she unchained and unbolted the locks, then stepped back to allow Detective Sung to enter the room.

"Hey, Matt. Thanks for coming," Logan greeted the detective.

"Hello, Logan. Are you alright?" Both Max and Logan noticed how Matt Sung was looking in the corner of the room and the spot just behind Logan's shoulder, but not actually at Logan himself. He seemed distant and spoke with quiet, polite formality.

"I'm fine. What's the situation out there?"

"It's pretty chaotic. There's a squad of police at your apartment, you won't be going back there for awhile. They still haven't been able to ID the body. I didn't see it, but I heard it was pretty messy down there. The station managers at the local news stations all said that the tip on your identity and location was phoned in anonymously, the same way it was sent to the police chief. My guess is that somebody pretty high up in the department knew about the search for you since an entire unit was mobilized as soon as the tip came in. We usually don't respond to anonymous tips like that without some sort of proof."

"So whoever found me has someone high up in the department. That might help narrow it down. What about charges against me?"

"Right now the D.A. officially wants you for questioning in regard to several unsolved murders. Criminals who wound up dead after Eyes Only exposed them. There was some smuggler about 9 months back…" Matt trailed off quietly after that, as though lost in thought. "That night, in the hanger with Bronk…you were telling the truth that night."

"I wasn't sure how much you would remember about that night." He sighed. Now Logan understood why Matt wasn't looking at him, why he seemed so ill at ease. How many other people felt betrayed by his lies? Again the thoughts of family and friends hearing the reports of his alter ego surfaced in his mind, making him feel ill when he imagined their potential reactions. "Matt, I never wanted to lie to you. It was for your own protection as much as anything else."

The detective merely nodded, still unwilling to look his friend in the eye. He did understand the need for secrets, but still couldn't help but feel betrayed at the deception from the man he trusted and considered his friend. If he had been honest with himself, he would have realized that he also felt embarrassed and foolish for not figuring it out sooner. Yet he did understand.

"The D.A. thinks he can pin you with the murder of Joel Solinski. After Eyes Only talked about Solinski's death in one of his –I mean your- hacks, a couple of prosecutors got suspicious and started piecing together a case."

"He didn't kill Solinski," Max piped in. I did, she thought to herself. Well, not technically. I just put him in a position where he could get very dead in a hurry. But he was a murderer and deserved it and Logan didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with what I did…Doesn't matter now.

"Either way," Matt shrugged and slowly shook his head at the hopelessness of the situation. "If the D.A. gets hold of you, there's a good chance that you'll get life in prison or the death sentence. And for every one cop out there who'll bring you in, there will be another one looking to do you harm. But the biggest problem is that your name and face are all over the television. Every enemy Eyes Only ever made knows what you look like now, and you stepped on a lot of toes over the years. If you have an escape plan, now is the time to use it."

Logan was quiet for a moment while he reevaluated his plans. "You said that body was pretty bad?"

"From what I was told, yeah. Like I said, I didn't see it myself."

"I think it would probably be a pretty good idea for Logan Cale to stay dead for awhile longer. I have a contact in the coroner's office that can probably make that happen. It might buy me some time."

The exoskeleton whirred as Logan walked across the room towards his laptop to send off a new e-mail. At first he only thought to send word to Beverly Shankar as soon as possible so she could interfere with the identification of the dead man, but after four steps across the room he slowed his pace at the incredulous look on Detective Sung's face. Logan realized a moment too late that Matt would be shocked to see him walking.

"It's called an exoskeleton," Logan explained sheepishly as he pulled the cuff of his pant leg slightly higher to show part of the device to Matt. "Made by the Department of Defense. A friend sent it to me a little while ago to help me get around."

Matt sung merely nodded and Logan continued to sit at the table and type out an e-mail. He briefly wondered why he felt so guilty, as though he was just caught in another dirty lie. He supposed in a small way it was: a paralyzed man who could walk around town could be interpreted as somewhat dishonest. He felt as if all of the deception was catching up to him. Eyes Only had always been about honesty, about finding and exposing the truth. In order to do that he had to stay anonymous, and at the time it seemed like the safe, correct, and necessary thing to do. Why, suddenly, did it feel like his usually high morals were crumbling down around him?

As he typed out an e-mail, he wondered if Beverly was feeling the same betrayal that Matt was so clearly experiencing. How many of his informants would feel deceived, knowing that all the times he had been delivering messages from Eyes Only had been a lie. Did they still trust him? Would they still help him?

He tried to control the feeling of dread as he sent off his message.

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To: raven

FROM: iionly

DATE: 6/4/20

RE: Dead Man Walking

Raven,

The informant net is still secure. Tuxedos and single gun shot wounds.

By now your office has probably taken in the body found near an exploded car in the parking garage of an apartment building. Police and news reports are assuming that the body belongs to Logan Cale. It would be very helpful if they could continue to assume that for as long as possible.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Max was uncharacteristically quiet during this exchange. Again, her mind was operating on two levels. She was forcing herself to come to terms with the fact that Logan would never again serve her dinner by candlelight or fight to stay awake all night just to keep talking to her because he knew she didn't sleep. She had always felt some guilt at the one-sidedness of their relationship. Logan had always given her so much. He helped her track down her family, he was always getting her out of trouble, and he listened to her and gave her a safe place to be herself and made her feel human. What did she do for him in return? Some B&E? Big deal. She was made to do stuff like that. Protecting him was the least she could do, and today was proving that she wasn't that good at it. The last time she failed to protect him he landed in a wheelchair.

She forced herself to ignore the scared little voice that had been plaguing her all morning and focus on protecting Logan. If he stayed in Seattle he faced prison or worse. He had made a lot of enemies over the years, and now they all had his photo and home address. If there was ever a time to get the hell out of Dodge, this was it.

"Logan, do you have a plan to get out of the city?"

"I have a little place on the California coast, about halfway between LA and San Francisco. It's pretty isolated, self-sufficient. I bought it a few years ago through a proxy in South America. I own it, but it can't be traced back to me. The plan is to get down there and lay low until things are quiet again. The hard part seems to be getting there. Bling, any luck finding me a car?"

"Nope. I've called everyone I know, and the soonest that I'll be able to get a hold of a new car with hand controls for you will be in three weeks."

"I would estimate you have closer to three hours, Logan." Matt explained, "The longer you wait, the better organized the search becomes. Can't you drive in that skeleton thing?"

"Unfortunately, no. I can't actually feel the brake or accelerator…"

"We can't risk planes or trains," Bling interjected. "Your face is all over the television. It only takes one person with a cell phone to bring you down."

"That's true," Matt confirmed, "You can't risk being recognized. And they're going to be searching cars and busses at every sector checkpoint, city limit and state border. Honestly, I'm not sure how you'll be able to get out of here."

"I am," Max said. "He's getting out on the back of a motorcycle."

The author gratefully acknowledges Shywr1ter for lending her advice and encouragement…

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