Chapter 10

"This is getting us nowhere," Max growled, pacing back and forth. Bling watched her uneasily. She reminded him of a panther pacing in its cage at the zoo.

"You're right," Matt said suddenly. "We're taking the wrong tack. Tallant's been hiding for decades, since the late 90s at least. He's an expert at it."

"Logan couldn't find him," Bling agreed dispiritedly. "I'll sure never be able to."

"So what should we be doing?" Max demanded. Given her fierce expression, Bling sure hoped Matt had an idea.

"Looking for his buyer," Matt said, and Max's eyes widened. "Or at least the place for the exchange."

"That makes sense," Bling said.

"That will have to be on neutral territory, I would think," Matt added. "Tallant has a vested interest in keeping his buyers happy, but with his rep, I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him."

"How do we find that?" Max asked.

"There are limited options. I can put some feelers out, and –"

"And I'll check out the word on the street," Max interjected. Bling could see that she was already happier with the prospect of something to do.

"It's a plan," Bling said. "Call me if you find anything, or need me to get you information." Max nodded and started out of the room. "Max!" he called.

She'd gone past the door frame, but she backed up. "What?" she asked impatiently.

"Take Logan's phone." He held it out to her and her eyes rested on it briefly, their expression unreadable, before she took it and was gone.

"Does Logan know how she feels about him?" Matt asked.

Bling snorted. "I don't think she knows how she feels about him," he replied. "Now get to work, or it won't matter."

Max hung upside down outside the window of Earnest Randall's office, waiting. Earnest Randall was the man who decided who was allowed to leave Seattle on any given day. Of course, he delegated some of the work to his flunkies, but the big decisions landed on him. It was just past six, but Randall rarely went home until seven. Some decisions were made outside of listed office hours. Fortunately, the man who made the decisions had a passion for fresh air. In all but the worst storms, his office window was open. This might have been seen as a security breach in some circles, but the window was on the fourth floor of a six-story building.

She'd listened to a lot of irrelevancies over the past forty minutes, but she'd given some thought to Sung's stipulation of neutral territory. Given the state of things in the city of Seattle, the most neutral territory to be found was outside, which would require permits.

For the last ten minutes, the office had been quiet. The door did not open or close quietly, and she'd heard Randall's voice since the last time it had closed, so she knew he was still in there. Abruptly, she heard footsteps crossing the room, and the door opened. "Lambrusco, get in here!" Randall's voice was slightly muffled, and Max leaned closer.

Footsteps entered the room and she heard the door close again. "Okay, I've got to be out of here . . . like five minutes ago," Randall said, and Max could imagine him looking at his watch. "If you have anything you need me to look at, you're going to have to tell me now."

"I haven't . . . I've only got one today, and I haven't finished the paperwork yet," Lambrusco said, sounding slightly harried.

"Damn it, does it have to be done today?"

"The flight is tomorrow night, sir, and he planned to pick it up tomorrow morning at ten."

"Who?"

"Morgan Lang, sir."

Max grit her teeth and started to shift, preparatory to going back up the wall to the roof. That wasn't a name they had on their lists, so it probably wasn't connected, and if Randall was going home, she wasn't going to learn anything more here tonight.

"Approve it," Randall said. "Here's the stamp."

"But sir," Lambrusco said in a low voice, "did you realize that they've got Logan Cale?"

"What?" Randall sounded startled, and Max froze, listening with all her attention.

"I saw the video before it was wiped," Lambrusco said. "They're the ones who took him from that apartment on 14th. Sir, it's one thing to let him get away with smuggling and money laundering, but kidnapping?" Max added murder to that list mentally, but she doubted either man considered the deaths of two minor criminals to be of much note, especially when compared to the clout people like Tallant and the Cales possessed.

"Do you have any reason to believe that Cale will be traveling with him?" Randall asked.

"Just the timing and the fact that he always requests permits for four people plus cargo, and this one is for five."

There was a brief silence, then Randall spoke. "Has the commissioner heard from Jonas Cale today?"

"Not that I know of," Lambrusco replied.

"If Cale was raising a stink, everyone in the building would know about it," Randall said, answering his own question. "You said a flight? Where?"

"To Calgary, sir, on his private plane."

"Approve it. I've got to go. My daughter's recital starts in five minutes." Rapid footsteps followed this statement, and she heard the door open and close.

Max heard Lambrusco moving around, then the door opened and closed again.

A flight to Canada tomorrow night. A change from four passes to five. No mention of Tallant's name, but clear indication that Logan was connected to this Morgan Lang somehow. Max climbed back up the building and moved away from the police department before calling Bling.

"Yeah?" Bling said.

"Look up someone named Morgan Lang. See if you can find a picture. I'll be there in ten." She hung up and dropped down to the street.

Logan grimaced at the TV. It was very weird to be bored and terrified at the same time. Morgan had come back after Tallant had gone to give Logan the opportunity to use the toilet and lie down if he wanted to. He'd accepted the first and declined the latter, so Morgan had returned him to the den where Tallant had apologetically told him he had work to do that couldn't wait, but that Jacob would be available if Logan had any needs.

Jacob, who turned out to be the cook, had come in once since then to see if Logan needed anything. That was nearly forty minutes ago, and he hadn't heard a peep since. Logan peered around the chair to the hallway. No one there. He took a deep breath and nodded. It was his best chance so far of making a break for it. He pushed himself gently out of the chair, catching most of his weight on his bent arms.

Dragging himself out of the room proved to be more work than he'd expected. There were little tables and other impedimenta in the way, but he made it to the hallway without getting caught. Now he just had to keep up the lucky streak.

All the doors he could see were closed. He dragged himself past them, ignoring the way his shoulders were beginning to burn. As he approached the kitchen, he could smell what had distracted Jacob. Timpano took a lot of prep time, and it wasn't something that could be left on its own to simmer for any length of time. While some parts simmered, other prep was called for. Logan peered around, saw the backs of Jacob's shoes, and, taking a deep breath and holding it, he dragged himself past the doorway as fast as he could, his heart racing, waiting for a yell of dismay and anger.

Nothing happened, and his heart rate slowed again to the elevated level demanded by the exercise he was undertaking. He finally reached the front room, and to his relief, his chair was still there. He'd had images of it having been moved to another room for safekeeping, but it was still within reach, if barely.

The brakes weren't set, so when he reached for it the first time, it started to roll away. Logan barely stopped it before it bonked against the wall. He was trying to control his breathing, which was getting a little labored. Dragging his whole weight against the friction of the carpet was considerably harder than it sounded.

Setting the brakes, he pulled himself into his chair, moving as quickly but as quietly as possible. When, at long last, he was sitting in the chair, he felt like he'd run a marathon. Now he just had to get out of here before Tallant got back. It would be just his luck to turn the chair to find Tallant staring at him, looking impressed. It was the last thing he wanted.

He wheeled himself to the front doors. All this time he'd been gambling on one thing. Tallant didn't usually bring prisoners here, so maybe, just maybe, the doors only locked from the outside. He turned the knob and the doors swung slowly open, silent on their heavy hinges. Logan realized he'd been holding his breath and forced himself to take in a gulp of air. He went through the doors and carefully closed them behind him. Now he'd gone too far to go back. The doors had to lock automatically.

Next was another possible check. He remembered a keypad at the elevator on the second floor. Unlike Max, he couldn't memorize a passcode from the sounds of the blips. Again, though, this wasn't a place for holding prisoners, and there was no keypad at the top of the elevator. Logan pushed the button and prayed that he wouldn't find Tallant and Morgan standing on the other side of the doors.

It opened immediately, and Logan realized that it must be programmed to rest at the top so that no one could use it as a way to deliver unwanted goods, like a bomb. He rolled forward, his heart in his mouth. If he could just get to a phone, he would be home free. The floor one button was completely gone, so he hit level two and listened to the noise of the cable above him, more than a little alarmed by how loud it was. His heart sped up as the light above the door flicked from three to two, anticipating the possibility that Tallant would be outside, but the coast was clear. Now he just had to figure out how to get off the floor.

There was a door to the right of the elevator that no doubt led to a flight of stairs. In theory, he could send his chair down one flight at a time, then crawl down after. He opened the door and found that the stairs had been blocked with great chunks of concrete. The ramp it was.

All his activity thus far had worked up a sweat, and the cool air coming from outside was chilling him faster than he'd expected. Shivering, he wheeled himself towards the empty parking space, looking for a one person door. There had to be a way out of this building that didn't require a vehicle. He didn't locate that, instead he found a switch that opened the whole door.

For a split second, he stared at the opening, then he ventured forward cautiously. There was no light on the ramp at all, and it was steeper than he'd realized. His palms had grown sweaty from anxiety, so he wiped them on his pants so they wouldn't slip on the rims. He'd have to go slowly or risk losing control of the chair. He swallowed convulsively. This was taking too long. The crawl from the den to the front room had taken forever, and Jacob was sure to notice sooner or later that he wasn't where he was supposed to be.

The curve of the ramp further diminished the light, and this wasn't a neighborhood where streetlights were reliable. His eyes gradually adjusted to the dimness, but it was still too dark to see much. He could hear cars moving on the street outside from time to time, so initially the sound of an engine didn't alarm him. Then it abruptly grew louder and a bright light blinded him. Starting backwards, he overbalanced the chair and landed on his back, the chair falling out from under him.

The car kept coming, and Logan knew he was going to be crushed.