Thanks, thanks, thanks again for all the reviews - still no Christmas
shopping done, but what the heck!!!
Chapter 12
Logan perused the number in the notebook, two fingers on his left hand tapping nervously on the desk in front of him.
He appeared to be waiting for something.
He cast a surreptitious look in Max's direction to see what she was up to, noting that she showed no sign of removing herself from his immediate vicinity.
He scratched his head for a minute, squinted in her direction, and then eventually said in the tone of one under considerable duress, "I'm gonna call him."
"You said that all ready."
Max watched him press his lips together, which she knew from experience meant he was suppressing some deep-seated emotional conflict, that was buried deep in his self-consciousness. So naturally, she acted dumb.
Logan looked at Max. "You intending to listen in on 'every' conversation I have today?"
She looked at him innocently. "Only the ones that are interesting, you know, old girlfriends, school buddies, that sort of thing. "
"Grace was 'not' an old girlfriend," he interrupted her.
"Whatever."
"You're very 'perky' all of a sudden."
"It suits me better to be the hunter, not the hunted."
"Yeah?"
"And," she said, leaning down till her face was close to his, "If you wanna make your call in private, all you hafta do is ask - nicely."
********************************************
"So, how'd it go?" Max asked him a short while later. "You look less tense."
"I wasn't tense."
"Okay."
"It's just that we hadn't spoken for a long time," he explained.
"You don't have to explain to me Logan."
"He's kinda hard to talk to on the phone," he enlarged.
"Logan, I get your message. And?"
"We didn't discuss much." Logan looked uncomfortable. "I arranged to meet him at his place."
"You what?"
"He wouldn't come here."
Max just looked at him.
"I know you'd prefer it if we didn't have to go out, but you also said you preferred to be the hunter, not the hunted.
She couldn't deny it, and for the first time in days she felt like they were finally getting somewhere close to clearing this up.
"Okay, "she finally acquiesced, but you do things 'my way' – got that straight?"
She thought she heard him grunt, which she took to be a 'yes.'
************************************************************************
"So, you've known this guy long?"
"We went through school together."
"Wow, old school friends! I didn't know you had it in you!"
Logan gave her a sideways glance, as he slowed the car down for the intersection they were heading into.
"I thought you were too busy saving the world to have boyhood friends," she continued irrepressibly.
"Well, I wouldn't exactly call us friends."
"Do I smell a mystery? A Cale family secret perhaps?"
"Nothing as romantic as that I'm afraid. We just never got on. You know how kids can be."
"No. Tell me."
Logan sighed. She was in one of her 'difficult' moods. He decided it was preferable to her yelling at him.
Logan thought back to his school days, and how he could best describe Kyle Davidson. Turning the car smoothly around the next corner he said, "He was kinda the competitive type."
"And he chose you to compete against?" asked Max with insight.
Logan looked across at her, smiling a little. "I guess you could say that," he admitted.
"Well, you gotta admit he had good taste." Logan looked at her suspiciously to see if she was being sarcastic.
"Why the title?"
"What?"
"Fear is the Key!" She stressed the first and final words.
"It seemed fitting at the time. That's how the syndicate operated; it was all bullying, stand over tactics. You know - 'Do it our way or we rip your fingernails off ' type stuff."
"Ugh."
"Subtlety wasn't high on their list of 'things to do'."
Max was thoughtful. "What I don't understand is why they didn't kill you as well?"
Logan thought back. "Yeah, I know. They could have gone the 'kill the messenger' route – but they didn't."
"We're nearly there," he digressed, looking out the window for street signs.
"Were you afraid?" Max asked, suddenly serious.
She watched his eyes.
After a pause he said, "It wasn't what you'd call 'pleasant'." Then in a flash of honesty he unexpectedly turned to her and said, "Yeah. I was afraid. None of us had ever come up against something like that before."
"Is that why you weren't afraid to go up against Sonrisa?"
She thought she'd pushed too far for the moment. She saw the hard, closed look come over his face, then as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. "Who said I wasn't afraid to go up against Sonrisa?" he asked her softly.
************************************************************************
"This is where he lives?" Max wrinkled her nose in distaste. "You sure this is right?"
Pulling the torn out notebook page from his jacket, and quickly reading it, he said, "This is the address he gave me."
He passed the page on to Max, who read it in turn.
"It's not what you'd call up market." She got out of the car, removing Logan's wheelchair from the back. "I thought you said he went to Yale with you."
"Well, that doesn't mean the guys a millionaire." Thinking back he said, "I've got an idea Kyle was there under a scholarship scheme."
"Don't you know?"
"We never talked about it."
"Only people with more money than they need don't talk to other people about the money they don't have," she murmured cryptically as she waited for him.
Logan noticed the way her attitude changed slightly now they were out of the car, her eyes constantly searching; her manner relaxed, but prepared.
Kyle Davidson lived in a run down apartment block of sorts. It was in that state of decay where it was hard to decide if it was falling down, or being taken down. It stood 5 stories high, but it looked unlikely it would stand for much longer. Most of the windows were broken, and it was hard going for Logan to even wheel up the front path to the foyer doors because of the amount of rubble on the ground.
Max looked down at him. "You did check for..."
"Yes, there 'is' a working elevator among this pile of ... " Logan looked at it, not quite sure what to call it, "something," he finished vaguely, looking around him.
Max held open the door for him while he wheeled through.
The foyer area was dark and dirty – a fairly good indication Logan thought, of what the entire building was like.
"How depressing," Max complained. "C'mon," she added, moving over to the elevator doors. She pressed the button. It had better work, she thought.
She was surprised to hear the hum of well- oiled machinery, and the doors 'pinged' open.
"Well, at least this is cared for," murmured Logan as they got in.
"Yeah, 'cause nothing else is," added Max.
It was a world away from Logan's lifestyle.
Max punched the button for the fifth floor.
They both looked at each other while the elevator ascended, then, as you do in elevators, quickly looked away again.
As the doors opened, Logan cleared his throat, "Here we go."
Max wondered if some of Logan's unease had rubbed off on her. Looking at his profile, the thought came to her that if she thought he'd been tense on the phone talking to Grace, in retrospect it was nothing to what he was now.
He took a deep breath of the fetid air, then instantly regretted it, and rang the doorbell of 506. Not surprised when there was no response, he knocked, and waited.
Watching Logan, Max suspected he hadn't put Davidson in the loop about the shooting.
Unexpectedly, the door swung open, and she looked at Kyle Davidson.
She didn't like what she saw.
The first thing she looked at was the colour of his eyes. They were blue, but somehow she wasn't really surprised. .
He was probably the same age as Logan, but his hair was already quite grey, and he had an emaciated look about him. 'Drugs?' she wondered. His skin was white and pasty, as if he hadn't seen the sun in a long time.
Logan was shaking hands with him. She could see the other man's surprise at seeing Logan in his wheelchair, quickly to be replaced fleetingly by one of ... satisfaction?
She quickly looked down at Logan to see if he had noticed it to, but his emotions were masked behind his polite introduction of her.
"This is my friend, Max," he was saying.
Kyle Davidson turned to her and held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you."
Seeing the small ironical smile cross his lips as he looked from her to Logan, she could understand why Logan did not call him a friend.
As they were being ushered into his apartment, she heard him saying to Logan, "So, is this permanent or temporary?"
She cringed for Logan's sake at his tone of voice.
With a slight edge to his voice, Logan replied, "Let's say I won't be dancing at your wedding."
Kyle Davidson made no other comment.
"Anyway, what about you Kyle. What have you been up to?" Logan asked, wheeling further into the room and expertly spinning around.
"Oh, just the usual – failing at life." He made no attempt to hide the bitterness in his voice.
"It wasn't the usual when I knew you," Logan said quietly.
"Oh, I doubt you ever really 'knew' me Logan."
'Great, this is going well!' Max said silently.
"Well, apart from 'that'," and he gestured towards Logan's chair, "you seem to be the same as ever. Still got that successful 'rich boy' look about you."
Max caught Logan's eye. 'Let me whack him for you!' her own eyes pleaded.
Ignoring both her look and Kyle's comment, Logan said, "Have you heard from any of the others lately? Burton, Melville, Kransky?"
Davidson looked at him incredulously. "You really have been out of it, haven't you."
Logan raised his eyebrows at him.
"All dead," he said abruptly.
Max saw the look of shock on Logan's face, and felt a now familiar tightening in her own stomach.
Logan, his mind reeling, said tersely, "What happened?"
Obviously pleased with the result of his revelation, Davidson continued with morbid pleasure, "Murdered of course."
Losing patience, Logan said, "Kyle, will you tell me what you're talking about!"
"Well why do you think I'm holed up in this hovel? You think I like to live like this?"
Logan's look said, 'That's exactly what I thought.'
Seeing Logan's expression, a look of fury crossed the other man's face as he stepped abruptly up to the wheelchair. "You always did think you were better than everyone else, didn't you."
Max instinctively took a step closer to Logan, but the other man stopped, standing in front of Logan, clenching and unclenching his fists.
She suspected if Logan had been standing he would have swung at him. 'You sure know how to push people's buttons Logan,' was her quiet thought.
As if suddenly realizing what he was doing, Davidson took a step back, and turned away. "We all received death threats," he said with a quiet intensity in his voice.
"March 13th?" asked Logan softly.
Davidson turned abruptly. "You too?"
Logan didn't answer but asked instead, "What happened to the others?"
"Knifed, Shot, drowned – does it matter! The results were the same."
Logan bit his lip and looked at Max. "This isn't good."
Max had had enough. Stepping up to Davidson she demanded, "Stop talking in riddles and tell us what the hell you know!"
Taken aback by the stark intensity of her anger, he said quickly, "I don't know a whole lot. About six weeks ago we all got these 'letters'." He seemed to have difficulty in saying the word, and for the first time Max could see the fear lurking in his eyes. He walked over to the bureau, opened a drawer, and pulled out a familiar looking envelope. He handed it to Logan.
"I think I'm familiar with this," he acknowledged dryly.
"Then you know what's going down here Cale."
"Not really," refuted Logan.
"Well, March 13th – we all figured it had to be about Bobby's death."
"Why didn't you try to reach me?"
"You're a hard person to track down. We thought you'd dropped off the planet. Then again, when we couldn't contact you, we didn't know what to think, who to trust ... and," his voice dropped a little, "then they started dying."
Max could see the perspiration on his face.
"Kransky first, shot down outside his apartment, Melville drowned when he 'drove' his car off a pier, and Melville was stabbed to death one night when he got out of his car."
Davidson walked to the window, looking through the once white, now grey, lace curtains.
"I didn't know what to think when you called Logan. Were you here to kill me or did you have a 'letter' too? Either way, I'd had enough of this hiding out, jumping at shadows, reaching out for my gun every time I hear a noise." His lips curled sardonically. "I've had enough of myself."
Max looked at Logan. Davidson's words echoed in her own mind – "All dead." She wondered what Logan was thinking.
No one saw the tiny red dot slowly travel up Davidson's leg, and pause tantalizingly over his heart.
Max moved as soon as she heard the sound, and in a reflex action hurled herself at Logan, bringing them both to the ground, and covering his body protectively with her own.
Her mind racing, she cautiously put her head up, eyes professionally combing the room. The only thing she saw out of place was Kyle Davidson's eyes staring sightlessly at her, a small round stain targeting the area where only a few short seconds ago, a heart had been beating.
Her eyes traveled to the window, where she saw a bullet-sized hole.
The green eyes were out there - somewhere.
Max jumped up in a fluid movement.
"You okay?" she spoke quickly.
Logan nodded. Max was already half way out the door.
She tore down the hallway, straight to the stairwell they'd passed on their way to the -now dead - Kyle Davidson's room.
She was the hunter now, determined to find this man who had a bounty on Logan's life.
She hit the foyer on the run, racing around to the side of the building where the marksman must have taken his shot. The apartment block next to the one they were in was almost identical; a testimony to the imagination of the individual who'd built them.
Her eyes dark and intense, she scanned the neighbouring building. This twin block seemed to be in even worse condition than the one Davidson lived in. (Had lived in, she mentally corrected herself.)
Doing a quick calculation, she reasoned the marksman had to be still in the vicinity, and hopefully still in the building.
Cautiously, she stole into the foyer.
She noted they employed the same cleaners here too.
Davidson had been a tall man. Guessing at the angle of trajectory she was reasonably sure the bullet must have been fired from the room directly opposite the one they were in. Checking the elevator, she saw it was still at the top floor. Max headed for the stairwell. On entering the stairwell she stood still, craning her neck upwards she looked for signs of life. The building seemed unnaturally quiet. She had no idea where the tenants were.
Slowly she made her way up the darkened stairwell, her footsteps muffled by the worn carpet beneath her.
She was perfectly calm now, composed - a trained killing machine.
Almost disappointed she reached the 5th floor without encountering anyone. It seemed unlikely, but she walked along the corridor that was a replica of the one next door, to the corresponding room 506.
The door was slightly ajar, and through the aperture she could see the open window with the same dirty curtains, blowing gently in the breeze.
Mentally bracing herself, she then kicked the door the remaining distance till it swung upon, then ducking her head down, in a replica action of the day before, rolled through the door, landing with the grace of a gymnast, arms ready for action.
"Great!"
With disgust she saw the room was empty.
Suddenly, her ears picked up the hum of the elevator.
Hopefully, she raced down the stairwell again, stopping at each level to ascertain if the elevator had stopped on that floor.
Fourth. Third. Second. First. The device continued down to the ground floor.
Max reached the foyer before the elevator itself. Scanning quickly, she saw the area was still deserted.
The elevator stopped.
The doors opened.
Max stood to the side, and as soon as the occupant stepped forward, she darted forward, hooking her arm around the man's neck.
She breathed hotly in his ear. "What colour are your eyes?"
It was difficult for the man to speak, but he managed to gasp, "Brown."
"Damn!"
She let him go with another oath.
"What were you doing in there?"
The poor man looked frankly terrified. "I didn't do anything wrong!"
Max suddenly went cold.
"What are you talking about?"
The man looked at her again, quite convinced she was going to kill him - such was the look on her face.
"He gave me fifty dollars to ride to the ground floor. That's all, really! I didn't ..."
"Is there a back stair? IS THERE?" she screamed at him when he didn't answer.
"Yeah, at the end of the passage."
She was out the door and back the way she'd come almost before the terrified man had finished his sentence.
Her mouth set in a hard line, without hesitating this time she took the steps three and four at a time.
Fifth floor. Room 506.
The door was open.
She knew she'd left it closed.
Desperately wanting to simply charge in there, she forced herself to cautiously look around the corner.
The first thing she saw was Logan, face to the floor, crumpled on the ground next to Davidson.
They were the only occupants of the room.
Numbly she ran forward and put her hand to Logan's neck..
Thanking a God who she wasn't sure even existed, she noted his pulse was slow, but strong, her quick eyes noting the nasty lump forming on the back of his head.
Checking the rest of the room thoroughly, and the corridor outside, she closed the door and locked it.
For a moment she leaned against the door, catching her breath.
Looking at Logan's still form, she was surprised to find she was trembling – there had been too many 'what ifs' and the thought shook her to the core.
TBC
Chapter 12
Logan perused the number in the notebook, two fingers on his left hand tapping nervously on the desk in front of him.
He appeared to be waiting for something.
He cast a surreptitious look in Max's direction to see what she was up to, noting that she showed no sign of removing herself from his immediate vicinity.
He scratched his head for a minute, squinted in her direction, and then eventually said in the tone of one under considerable duress, "I'm gonna call him."
"You said that all ready."
Max watched him press his lips together, which she knew from experience meant he was suppressing some deep-seated emotional conflict, that was buried deep in his self-consciousness. So naturally, she acted dumb.
Logan looked at Max. "You intending to listen in on 'every' conversation I have today?"
She looked at him innocently. "Only the ones that are interesting, you know, old girlfriends, school buddies, that sort of thing. "
"Grace was 'not' an old girlfriend," he interrupted her.
"Whatever."
"You're very 'perky' all of a sudden."
"It suits me better to be the hunter, not the hunted."
"Yeah?"
"And," she said, leaning down till her face was close to his, "If you wanna make your call in private, all you hafta do is ask - nicely."
********************************************
"So, how'd it go?" Max asked him a short while later. "You look less tense."
"I wasn't tense."
"Okay."
"It's just that we hadn't spoken for a long time," he explained.
"You don't have to explain to me Logan."
"He's kinda hard to talk to on the phone," he enlarged.
"Logan, I get your message. And?"
"We didn't discuss much." Logan looked uncomfortable. "I arranged to meet him at his place."
"You what?"
"He wouldn't come here."
Max just looked at him.
"I know you'd prefer it if we didn't have to go out, but you also said you preferred to be the hunter, not the hunted.
She couldn't deny it, and for the first time in days she felt like they were finally getting somewhere close to clearing this up.
"Okay, "she finally acquiesced, but you do things 'my way' – got that straight?"
She thought she heard him grunt, which she took to be a 'yes.'
************************************************************************
"So, you've known this guy long?"
"We went through school together."
"Wow, old school friends! I didn't know you had it in you!"
Logan gave her a sideways glance, as he slowed the car down for the intersection they were heading into.
"I thought you were too busy saving the world to have boyhood friends," she continued irrepressibly.
"Well, I wouldn't exactly call us friends."
"Do I smell a mystery? A Cale family secret perhaps?"
"Nothing as romantic as that I'm afraid. We just never got on. You know how kids can be."
"No. Tell me."
Logan sighed. She was in one of her 'difficult' moods. He decided it was preferable to her yelling at him.
Logan thought back to his school days, and how he could best describe Kyle Davidson. Turning the car smoothly around the next corner he said, "He was kinda the competitive type."
"And he chose you to compete against?" asked Max with insight.
Logan looked across at her, smiling a little. "I guess you could say that," he admitted.
"Well, you gotta admit he had good taste." Logan looked at her suspiciously to see if she was being sarcastic.
"Why the title?"
"What?"
"Fear is the Key!" She stressed the first and final words.
"It seemed fitting at the time. That's how the syndicate operated; it was all bullying, stand over tactics. You know - 'Do it our way or we rip your fingernails off ' type stuff."
"Ugh."
"Subtlety wasn't high on their list of 'things to do'."
Max was thoughtful. "What I don't understand is why they didn't kill you as well?"
Logan thought back. "Yeah, I know. They could have gone the 'kill the messenger' route – but they didn't."
"We're nearly there," he digressed, looking out the window for street signs.
"Were you afraid?" Max asked, suddenly serious.
She watched his eyes.
After a pause he said, "It wasn't what you'd call 'pleasant'." Then in a flash of honesty he unexpectedly turned to her and said, "Yeah. I was afraid. None of us had ever come up against something like that before."
"Is that why you weren't afraid to go up against Sonrisa?"
She thought she'd pushed too far for the moment. She saw the hard, closed look come over his face, then as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. "Who said I wasn't afraid to go up against Sonrisa?" he asked her softly.
************************************************************************
"This is where he lives?" Max wrinkled her nose in distaste. "You sure this is right?"
Pulling the torn out notebook page from his jacket, and quickly reading it, he said, "This is the address he gave me."
He passed the page on to Max, who read it in turn.
"It's not what you'd call up market." She got out of the car, removing Logan's wheelchair from the back. "I thought you said he went to Yale with you."
"Well, that doesn't mean the guys a millionaire." Thinking back he said, "I've got an idea Kyle was there under a scholarship scheme."
"Don't you know?"
"We never talked about it."
"Only people with more money than they need don't talk to other people about the money they don't have," she murmured cryptically as she waited for him.
Logan noticed the way her attitude changed slightly now they were out of the car, her eyes constantly searching; her manner relaxed, but prepared.
Kyle Davidson lived in a run down apartment block of sorts. It was in that state of decay where it was hard to decide if it was falling down, or being taken down. It stood 5 stories high, but it looked unlikely it would stand for much longer. Most of the windows were broken, and it was hard going for Logan to even wheel up the front path to the foyer doors because of the amount of rubble on the ground.
Max looked down at him. "You did check for..."
"Yes, there 'is' a working elevator among this pile of ... " Logan looked at it, not quite sure what to call it, "something," he finished vaguely, looking around him.
Max held open the door for him while he wheeled through.
The foyer area was dark and dirty – a fairly good indication Logan thought, of what the entire building was like.
"How depressing," Max complained. "C'mon," she added, moving over to the elevator doors. She pressed the button. It had better work, she thought.
She was surprised to hear the hum of well- oiled machinery, and the doors 'pinged' open.
"Well, at least this is cared for," murmured Logan as they got in.
"Yeah, 'cause nothing else is," added Max.
It was a world away from Logan's lifestyle.
Max punched the button for the fifth floor.
They both looked at each other while the elevator ascended, then, as you do in elevators, quickly looked away again.
As the doors opened, Logan cleared his throat, "Here we go."
Max wondered if some of Logan's unease had rubbed off on her. Looking at his profile, the thought came to her that if she thought he'd been tense on the phone talking to Grace, in retrospect it was nothing to what he was now.
He took a deep breath of the fetid air, then instantly regretted it, and rang the doorbell of 506. Not surprised when there was no response, he knocked, and waited.
Watching Logan, Max suspected he hadn't put Davidson in the loop about the shooting.
Unexpectedly, the door swung open, and she looked at Kyle Davidson.
She didn't like what she saw.
The first thing she looked at was the colour of his eyes. They were blue, but somehow she wasn't really surprised. .
He was probably the same age as Logan, but his hair was already quite grey, and he had an emaciated look about him. 'Drugs?' she wondered. His skin was white and pasty, as if he hadn't seen the sun in a long time.
Logan was shaking hands with him. She could see the other man's surprise at seeing Logan in his wheelchair, quickly to be replaced fleetingly by one of ... satisfaction?
She quickly looked down at Logan to see if he had noticed it to, but his emotions were masked behind his polite introduction of her.
"This is my friend, Max," he was saying.
Kyle Davidson turned to her and held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you."
Seeing the small ironical smile cross his lips as he looked from her to Logan, she could understand why Logan did not call him a friend.
As they were being ushered into his apartment, she heard him saying to Logan, "So, is this permanent or temporary?"
She cringed for Logan's sake at his tone of voice.
With a slight edge to his voice, Logan replied, "Let's say I won't be dancing at your wedding."
Kyle Davidson made no other comment.
"Anyway, what about you Kyle. What have you been up to?" Logan asked, wheeling further into the room and expertly spinning around.
"Oh, just the usual – failing at life." He made no attempt to hide the bitterness in his voice.
"It wasn't the usual when I knew you," Logan said quietly.
"Oh, I doubt you ever really 'knew' me Logan."
'Great, this is going well!' Max said silently.
"Well, apart from 'that'," and he gestured towards Logan's chair, "you seem to be the same as ever. Still got that successful 'rich boy' look about you."
Max caught Logan's eye. 'Let me whack him for you!' her own eyes pleaded.
Ignoring both her look and Kyle's comment, Logan said, "Have you heard from any of the others lately? Burton, Melville, Kransky?"
Davidson looked at him incredulously. "You really have been out of it, haven't you."
Logan raised his eyebrows at him.
"All dead," he said abruptly.
Max saw the look of shock on Logan's face, and felt a now familiar tightening in her own stomach.
Logan, his mind reeling, said tersely, "What happened?"
Obviously pleased with the result of his revelation, Davidson continued with morbid pleasure, "Murdered of course."
Losing patience, Logan said, "Kyle, will you tell me what you're talking about!"
"Well why do you think I'm holed up in this hovel? You think I like to live like this?"
Logan's look said, 'That's exactly what I thought.'
Seeing Logan's expression, a look of fury crossed the other man's face as he stepped abruptly up to the wheelchair. "You always did think you were better than everyone else, didn't you."
Max instinctively took a step closer to Logan, but the other man stopped, standing in front of Logan, clenching and unclenching his fists.
She suspected if Logan had been standing he would have swung at him. 'You sure know how to push people's buttons Logan,' was her quiet thought.
As if suddenly realizing what he was doing, Davidson took a step back, and turned away. "We all received death threats," he said with a quiet intensity in his voice.
"March 13th?" asked Logan softly.
Davidson turned abruptly. "You too?"
Logan didn't answer but asked instead, "What happened to the others?"
"Knifed, Shot, drowned – does it matter! The results were the same."
Logan bit his lip and looked at Max. "This isn't good."
Max had had enough. Stepping up to Davidson she demanded, "Stop talking in riddles and tell us what the hell you know!"
Taken aback by the stark intensity of her anger, he said quickly, "I don't know a whole lot. About six weeks ago we all got these 'letters'." He seemed to have difficulty in saying the word, and for the first time Max could see the fear lurking in his eyes. He walked over to the bureau, opened a drawer, and pulled out a familiar looking envelope. He handed it to Logan.
"I think I'm familiar with this," he acknowledged dryly.
"Then you know what's going down here Cale."
"Not really," refuted Logan.
"Well, March 13th – we all figured it had to be about Bobby's death."
"Why didn't you try to reach me?"
"You're a hard person to track down. We thought you'd dropped off the planet. Then again, when we couldn't contact you, we didn't know what to think, who to trust ... and," his voice dropped a little, "then they started dying."
Max could see the perspiration on his face.
"Kransky first, shot down outside his apartment, Melville drowned when he 'drove' his car off a pier, and Melville was stabbed to death one night when he got out of his car."
Davidson walked to the window, looking through the once white, now grey, lace curtains.
"I didn't know what to think when you called Logan. Were you here to kill me or did you have a 'letter' too? Either way, I'd had enough of this hiding out, jumping at shadows, reaching out for my gun every time I hear a noise." His lips curled sardonically. "I've had enough of myself."
Max looked at Logan. Davidson's words echoed in her own mind – "All dead." She wondered what Logan was thinking.
No one saw the tiny red dot slowly travel up Davidson's leg, and pause tantalizingly over his heart.
Max moved as soon as she heard the sound, and in a reflex action hurled herself at Logan, bringing them both to the ground, and covering his body protectively with her own.
Her mind racing, she cautiously put her head up, eyes professionally combing the room. The only thing she saw out of place was Kyle Davidson's eyes staring sightlessly at her, a small round stain targeting the area where only a few short seconds ago, a heart had been beating.
Her eyes traveled to the window, where she saw a bullet-sized hole.
The green eyes were out there - somewhere.
Max jumped up in a fluid movement.
"You okay?" she spoke quickly.
Logan nodded. Max was already half way out the door.
She tore down the hallway, straight to the stairwell they'd passed on their way to the -now dead - Kyle Davidson's room.
She was the hunter now, determined to find this man who had a bounty on Logan's life.
She hit the foyer on the run, racing around to the side of the building where the marksman must have taken his shot. The apartment block next to the one they were in was almost identical; a testimony to the imagination of the individual who'd built them.
Her eyes dark and intense, she scanned the neighbouring building. This twin block seemed to be in even worse condition than the one Davidson lived in. (Had lived in, she mentally corrected herself.)
Doing a quick calculation, she reasoned the marksman had to be still in the vicinity, and hopefully still in the building.
Cautiously, she stole into the foyer.
She noted they employed the same cleaners here too.
Davidson had been a tall man. Guessing at the angle of trajectory she was reasonably sure the bullet must have been fired from the room directly opposite the one they were in. Checking the elevator, she saw it was still at the top floor. Max headed for the stairwell. On entering the stairwell she stood still, craning her neck upwards she looked for signs of life. The building seemed unnaturally quiet. She had no idea where the tenants were.
Slowly she made her way up the darkened stairwell, her footsteps muffled by the worn carpet beneath her.
She was perfectly calm now, composed - a trained killing machine.
Almost disappointed she reached the 5th floor without encountering anyone. It seemed unlikely, but she walked along the corridor that was a replica of the one next door, to the corresponding room 506.
The door was slightly ajar, and through the aperture she could see the open window with the same dirty curtains, blowing gently in the breeze.
Mentally bracing herself, she then kicked the door the remaining distance till it swung upon, then ducking her head down, in a replica action of the day before, rolled through the door, landing with the grace of a gymnast, arms ready for action.
"Great!"
With disgust she saw the room was empty.
Suddenly, her ears picked up the hum of the elevator.
Hopefully, she raced down the stairwell again, stopping at each level to ascertain if the elevator had stopped on that floor.
Fourth. Third. Second. First. The device continued down to the ground floor.
Max reached the foyer before the elevator itself. Scanning quickly, she saw the area was still deserted.
The elevator stopped.
The doors opened.
Max stood to the side, and as soon as the occupant stepped forward, she darted forward, hooking her arm around the man's neck.
She breathed hotly in his ear. "What colour are your eyes?"
It was difficult for the man to speak, but he managed to gasp, "Brown."
"Damn!"
She let him go with another oath.
"What were you doing in there?"
The poor man looked frankly terrified. "I didn't do anything wrong!"
Max suddenly went cold.
"What are you talking about?"
The man looked at her again, quite convinced she was going to kill him - such was the look on her face.
"He gave me fifty dollars to ride to the ground floor. That's all, really! I didn't ..."
"Is there a back stair? IS THERE?" she screamed at him when he didn't answer.
"Yeah, at the end of the passage."
She was out the door and back the way she'd come almost before the terrified man had finished his sentence.
Her mouth set in a hard line, without hesitating this time she took the steps three and four at a time.
Fifth floor. Room 506.
The door was open.
She knew she'd left it closed.
Desperately wanting to simply charge in there, she forced herself to cautiously look around the corner.
The first thing she saw was Logan, face to the floor, crumpled on the ground next to Davidson.
They were the only occupants of the room.
Numbly she ran forward and put her hand to Logan's neck..
Thanking a God who she wasn't sure even existed, she noted his pulse was slow, but strong, her quick eyes noting the nasty lump forming on the back of his head.
Checking the rest of the room thoroughly, and the corridor outside, she closed the door and locked it.
For a moment she leaned against the door, catching her breath.
Looking at Logan's still form, she was surprised to find she was trembling – there had been too many 'what ifs' and the thought shook her to the core.
TBC