Once again, thank you so much for all the reviews – it's great to get your
feedback!
Chapter 14
"Max!"
"What is it?" Max's head shot up, eyes alert
Logan spoke with extreme patience, his eyes on the screen, "I 'm findin' it real hard here to concentrate with you 'pacing' all the time."
"Oh. Sorry."
She looked around for a minute, and then resumed her restless walk in front of the windows of Logan's apartment.
The darkness of the Seattle night had been hidden behind the curtains she'd pulled across earlier, and now, instead of making her feel safer, she felt like a lion she'd once seen at a zoo, pacing back and forth in it's small cage.
Was Logan safe? The thought echoed in her mind for the hundredth time.
Logan stopped tapping, considered the screen for a moment, then unlocking his brakes turned around to regard her, arms folded.
"Why don't you just 'open' them?"
Max stopped pacing and looked at him.
"Open what?"
"The curtains," he stated in a 'you know what I'm talking about' voice. "Ever since you've closed them you've been wearing holes in my floor."
"I'm just restless, that's all," she returned with a touch of defensiveness.
"You hungry? I could make us something to eat?" he suggested.
"Not really."
Logan nodded. He wasn't feeling hungry himself. He sat watching her as she resumed her pacing, the lovely dark eyes distant and troubled.
Her pacing didn't make him feel any better. If she who was supremely confident of her ability to face most things was worried, then things must be serious.
What he didn't know was that the one thing she was not prepared to face fearlessly was the thought of something happening to him. The dread she'd felt when she realized she'd been tricked at the apartment that afternoon had been almost overwhelming
She looked over at him suddenly. Her eyes met his fleetingly, and she could see the concerned look in his. She felt suddenly guilty.
Determined to throw off the negative thoughts, she smiled at him.
It was a dangerous smile thought Logan watching her - he suddenly felt very vulnerable.
Max was approaching him now.
He placed his hands on the metal rims of his chair, ready for flight.
She came and stood in front of him, very close, so that he was forced to look up at her.
"I know what we gotta do."
"Yeah? His voice uncertain.
She bent down closer to him, her voice husky.
*********************************************************
He had protested, he had argued, he had flatly denied her, but, as in chess, her skills of strategy proved to be superior.
He sat at the table, one arm out of its sleeve, while she unwound the bandage.
Logan was not happy.
It was bad enough that she had to act as bodyguard for him, let alone nurse as well.
"Were you like this for your mommy too?" asked Max innocently, looking at his face. "I'm sorry, you didn't glare loud enough. What did you say?"
"I think I said I'm an ungrateful wretch," he finally replied wryly.
"No argument here."
Suddenly she felt very self-conscious about their closeness. Not trusting herself, she quickly put her head down and finished removing the bandage.
She missed the small smile that played on his lips as he watched her.
***********************************************************
Logan insisted on cooking them some dinner, which, once served, Max managed to eat her own, plus half of Logan's.
Max's earlier pacing had made him feel definitely uneasy, as much as he tried to rationalize the fact that the penthouse was one of the safest places for him to be. It reminded him of the night Max had broken in - when they'd all been so tense about the Sonrisa situation. He had the same queasy feeling in his stomach, his nerve endings tingling. He could understand Max and her earlier pacing – if he'd been able to pace, he reflected, he would have done it too. Instead he did the only thing he knew would help relieve the pressure he felt - he wheeled to his computer, determined to find all he could about Vincent Carlisle. With a small frown, and only vaguely aware of the clink of crockery as Max did the dishes, he concentrated on hacking into the computers of Taylor Industries.
***********************************************************
"Anything?" asked Max, some hours later.
Logan leaned back wearily in his chair.
"I wish," he said morosely.
"Why don't you take a break?"
"No," he snapped, leaning forward again.
Max made a face. "Just an idea."
Frowning again elbow resting on the desk, and his chin resting on his hand, he shook his head. "There's something strange goin' on here. Something's not right."
"What d'you mean?" asked Max, munching on an apple, and pulling up the computer chair to sit on.
Logan simply shook his head again, fingers racing over the keyboard.
Watching his face, she thought he wouldn't notice a bomb going off in the next room. The next instant, a look of satisfaction crossed his face. "That's it," he said tensely.
Max looked back to the screen. "What is 'it'?" asked Max warily.
Logan turned to her. "Taylor Industries. It's a syndicate front."
"What?"
Logan was looking thoughtful again, his mind racing. "He never told me."
Max waited for him to go on.
Unlocking his brakes, he spun around to face her. "Bobby never told me where he got the evidence about the syndicate infiltration."
"Vincent?"
"Maybe." Logan still looked thoughtful.
"Does Vincent still work for Taylor Industries?" Max took another bite.
Logan turned his hands up and shrugged. "I can't find any data on him anywhere! It's as if he doesn't exist."
"Or he's dead," tossed in Max, taking a final bite.
"It's worth a try," muttered Logan
Not sure of what he was up to, Max watched for a few moments, then walked into the kitchen to toss her apple core.
"Hey."
She hurried back in, noting the tone of his voice.
With a satisfied smirk he looked up at her. "Always knew you were more than just a pretty face."
Wondering what he was on about, she looked at the screen. "He's dead?" she asked in genuine surprise.
"Well, he wants the world to think he is."
"Logan, how does this help us?" Max was frankly puzzled.
Logan scratched the back of his head, then thought better of it, remembering too late that he had a lump on it that was still quite large, and definitely still tender.
"I'm not sure it does."
Now Max looked frustrated. "Logan, you don't seem to be getting anywhere with this!"
"Tell me about it!" he bit back, trying to stretch his back out at the same time.
"You should probably get some rest," suggested Max in a milder tone.
"Yeah, well, it's not the eternal variety I'm after, and if I don't crack this tonight, that may well be what I end up with!"
"That's not very funny," said Max seriously.
"I meet with Matt at four," then looking at his watch added, "this afternoon."
"After what went down today, you're still goin' through with the meet?"
In a low voice and with surprising vehemence he stated "I'm not gonna be a prisoner in my own apartment."
"Get real to it, Logan!" she snapped back at him. "You just don't like the idea of someone beating you! This is all about your bad ass pride."
"No. This is about not being willing to let six weeks of hard work go down the drain!"
"Okay. If that's how you feel, why should I bother trying to save your ass!" And at that she strode over to the windows, and with a savage flourish threw open the curtains.
Angrily wheeling after her, heedless of his arm, he retorted, "Fine – 'cause I never asked you to save my ass in the first place!"
Max stood very still for a moment, then turned around and walked up to him, standing very close to his wheelchair. "You just don't get it, do you?" she asked him, in a voice full of meaning. "If you want me, I'll be in the guest room watching T.V." At that she turned on her heels and left the room.
Logan sat looking after her for a moment, his own conscience more than pricking him, and wondering considerably as to the meaning of her words.
Quite some time later, he was still staring bleary-eyed at the screen, having turned up nothing more on the elusive Vincent Carlisle. All his employment records had been withdrawn from Taylor Industries; it was as if he'd never worked there.
Logan sighed. The ache in his head had turned into a full-blown pounding, but more annoying than that was the continual stab of guilt he felt every time he thought of Max.
Catching sight of the bottle of painkillers Max had left on his desk, he put them on his lap and wheeled into the kitchen to get a drink of water.
Just at that moment, Max came out, her quick eyes noting the bottle on the counter and the water in his hand.
"Logan, look at this." She swept past him, turning on the television monitor in his study.
Coming round the corner, he could hear the reporter saying: "... ... not known who is responsible. Vernon Taylor had built the company from its beginnings as a small savings and loan company, into one of the biggest corporations in the country." The reporter then continued onto the next item.
"It's a little suspicious, wouldn't you say?"
His mind was only working at half pace. "We're talking Vernon Taylor, head of Taylor Industries, right?"
"Damn straight."
"How did he die?" asked Logan, trying to get his head around this new development.
"Kaboom!" said Max demonstratively.
"What's the tie-in to our guy?" he wondered out loud.
"You haven't heard the punch line," added Max quietly.
Logan leaned back, looking up at her.
"It happened here in Seattle."
Logan sat very still. The queasy feeling in his stomach had returned.
***********************************************************
Logan eventually went to bed, leaving Max sitting by the huge picture windows, deep in thought. She used her solitude wisely, and by the time Bling came by at daybreak, she had come to several decisions.
"Morning Max," greeted the trainer.
"Bling."
"Logan not up?" Bling looked around.
"His head's only been down a few hours."
"I'd better be real quiet then!" he whispered with a smile.
"I'm gonna stay on duty with 'his grumpiness.' He's insisting on the meet with Matt Sung." Even to Bling the concern was evident in her eyes. "I'm not real happy with it."
"Work?"
"I'll ring in. First, I got a few things to do. Will you hold the fort for me?"
"Fine by me."
She grabbed a small bag she had on the kitchen bench, and headed out the door.
***********************************************************
"Bling, you there?"
Max looked at the trainer with a grin. "His master calls."
Bling went in to find Logan sitting up in bed.
"Can you check this to see if I can get it wet now?" he asked, lifting his right arm in query.
"Good morning to you too," replied Bling with a touch of irony.
"Yeah."
"We're in fine form this morning."
Logan threw him a look.
"You look like hell," added Bling amiably, as he checked the knife wound.
"Whatever ... ow!" he added a second later, giving Bling the full benefit of one of his glares.
"Oops."
"Well, how is it?" asked Logan impatiently.
"I don't know why you're askin. You told me the doc said to keep it dry till you got the stitches out."
"I'm asking because I hate showering with a plastic bag over my arm!"
Knowing this was but the tip of the iceberg, Bling waited for more, but wasn't surprised when Logan abruptly stopped – getting Logan to open up was like getting the proverbial water from a stone.
Understanding something of the pressure he was under, he simply replied, "Sorry. You're stuck with it for a few days yet."
Without a word, Logan threw back his blankets, and still favouring his right arm, lifted his legs till they were over the side, transferred to his wheelchair, and headed for the bathroom.
'It's gonna be a happy day," mused Bling.
****************************************************
Sometime in the afternoon, Matt Sung rang to confirm the meet with the informant.
"That's fine Matt. I'll see you there." Ending his call, Logan put the phone on his lap and headed for the window. He hadn't seen the sun he recalled, since the day of their 'picnic.'
Even though the tension was still there, he could feel a dragging heaviness behind his eyes. He wished this whole mess was behind him, and that he could get into bed at night without wondering if he was still going to be alive the next day. He realized with surprise he'd been unconsciously gripping the wheels of his chair. He took them off, lifting his right hand to rub the back of his head, only to stop irritably when he realized his battered head wouldn't take too kindly to the action. Clenching his jaw, he watched the rain beginning to fall.
Max studied the figure by the window.
"Hey," she called to him gently.
As Logan turned his head, she could see the weariness in his eyes.
Max walked around the couch, and leaned on the back of it, her own eyes focusing on the drizzling rain.
"I know this meet is important to you," she began. "I think I've got a few ideas on how to make this work."
Logan nodded silently, his eyes still intent on the window.
"We need to do this my way," she went on, a little more forcefully.
"You're the boss," he agreed, with a tinge of sarcasm.
"Logan, this guy may be whacked, but he operates like a professional. I don't mean to take any chances. Are you sure you're cool with it?"
"Whatever you say."
Rather abruptly, he wheeled back to his computer.
***************************************************
Max stood next to Logan's Aztek, her enhanced eyesight doing a thorough check of their surroundings, which was an almost full garbage dump.
"Is this where your peeps hangout?" she'd sniffed when they reached the rendezvous.
"Only the more discerning ones," Logan had smiled, then looking out the car window said, "and there they are."
Matt Sung had driven up in his rather battered car, which looked like it would be right at home with some of the more fortunate car shells.
Mountains of garbage loomed on either side of them, a huge pile of car bodies immediately in front of them. There was only one entrance, through a rickety gate.
Max had insisted that Logan stay in the car at all times.
When Logan had started to protest, she reminded him that he'd promised to do it her way.
"I'm the boss, remember?" she said with one of her provocative smiles.
With a look of resignation, he'd simply folded his arms, and waited.
Matt got out of his car, with a careful look around, and headed over to the Aztek.
"Everything okay with you?" he queried, a little surprised at Max's presence.
"Just takin a few precautions," Logan said a little uneasily.
Matt had a battered brief case in his hand. "This is it," he said meaningfully, handing it over to Logan.
"The contact?"
Matt motioned to his car. "He's a bit paranoid. Thinks there are men with guns everywhere."
"If this information is as good as he says, there probably are." Logan scanned the garbage dump as he spoke.
"He wants to speak to you, but he's too scared to get out of the car."
Max gave Logan a look that said, "Don't even think about it!"
Aloud she said to Matt, "No way. He wants to talk, he comes here."
"We've had a spot of trouble lately," said Logan, by way of explanation.
The detective was immediately concerned. "You been compromised Logan?"
"No, nothing like that, but, you know, we're just taking - precautions." Logan tried to sound matter-of –fact.
The cars were about 40 yards apart from each other. Logan could make out the man in the back of Matt's car looking at them. He was about to wave a greeting, thinking this might put the man at ease, when unbelievably, the car before him burst into flames.
************************************************************
Both Matt Sung and Max saw the fire at the same time. It appeared as if the engine had ignited, and already they could feel the heat from the flames now beginning to tower above the car. To their horror, they could hear the man in the backseat screaming wildly, crying for help.
With a quick look back to Logan first, Max then raced to the car. The man in the backseat had completely panicked and sat frozen by fear, his mouth now contorted as he soundlessly screamed.
The door handles were already impossible to touch. The intensity of the heat at this proximity was incredible. Slipping off her jacket, she placed it over the doorknob and yanked with all her might. The door had obviously buckled with the intensity of the heat. She could see the man beginning to sag and the thought crossed her mind that there were better things in life than being blown into hundreds of pieces. Trying again desperately, she thankfully felt the door giving, and in the next instant it was open.
As soon as she had it open, Matt Sung dived forward, grabbed the man by the arm, and pulled him out, dragging him away from the car, and dumping him on the ground where he lay a quivering mess in the dirt.
In that instant Max turned round to check on Logan.
The Aztek was gone.
Frantically she looked towards the exit, in time to see the blue car roaring out the gate.
Indelibly printed on her mind was the image of a man seated next to Logan, in his hand a gun, pointing directly at Logan's head.
TBC
Chapter 14
"Max!"
"What is it?" Max's head shot up, eyes alert
Logan spoke with extreme patience, his eyes on the screen, "I 'm findin' it real hard here to concentrate with you 'pacing' all the time."
"Oh. Sorry."
She looked around for a minute, and then resumed her restless walk in front of the windows of Logan's apartment.
The darkness of the Seattle night had been hidden behind the curtains she'd pulled across earlier, and now, instead of making her feel safer, she felt like a lion she'd once seen at a zoo, pacing back and forth in it's small cage.
Was Logan safe? The thought echoed in her mind for the hundredth time.
Logan stopped tapping, considered the screen for a moment, then unlocking his brakes turned around to regard her, arms folded.
"Why don't you just 'open' them?"
Max stopped pacing and looked at him.
"Open what?"
"The curtains," he stated in a 'you know what I'm talking about' voice. "Ever since you've closed them you've been wearing holes in my floor."
"I'm just restless, that's all," she returned with a touch of defensiveness.
"You hungry? I could make us something to eat?" he suggested.
"Not really."
Logan nodded. He wasn't feeling hungry himself. He sat watching her as she resumed her pacing, the lovely dark eyes distant and troubled.
Her pacing didn't make him feel any better. If she who was supremely confident of her ability to face most things was worried, then things must be serious.
What he didn't know was that the one thing she was not prepared to face fearlessly was the thought of something happening to him. The dread she'd felt when she realized she'd been tricked at the apartment that afternoon had been almost overwhelming
She looked over at him suddenly. Her eyes met his fleetingly, and she could see the concerned look in his. She felt suddenly guilty.
Determined to throw off the negative thoughts, she smiled at him.
It was a dangerous smile thought Logan watching her - he suddenly felt very vulnerable.
Max was approaching him now.
He placed his hands on the metal rims of his chair, ready for flight.
She came and stood in front of him, very close, so that he was forced to look up at her.
"I know what we gotta do."
"Yeah? His voice uncertain.
She bent down closer to him, her voice husky.
*********************************************************
He had protested, he had argued, he had flatly denied her, but, as in chess, her skills of strategy proved to be superior.
He sat at the table, one arm out of its sleeve, while she unwound the bandage.
Logan was not happy.
It was bad enough that she had to act as bodyguard for him, let alone nurse as well.
"Were you like this for your mommy too?" asked Max innocently, looking at his face. "I'm sorry, you didn't glare loud enough. What did you say?"
"I think I said I'm an ungrateful wretch," he finally replied wryly.
"No argument here."
Suddenly she felt very self-conscious about their closeness. Not trusting herself, she quickly put her head down and finished removing the bandage.
She missed the small smile that played on his lips as he watched her.
***********************************************************
Logan insisted on cooking them some dinner, which, once served, Max managed to eat her own, plus half of Logan's.
Max's earlier pacing had made him feel definitely uneasy, as much as he tried to rationalize the fact that the penthouse was one of the safest places for him to be. It reminded him of the night Max had broken in - when they'd all been so tense about the Sonrisa situation. He had the same queasy feeling in his stomach, his nerve endings tingling. He could understand Max and her earlier pacing – if he'd been able to pace, he reflected, he would have done it too. Instead he did the only thing he knew would help relieve the pressure he felt - he wheeled to his computer, determined to find all he could about Vincent Carlisle. With a small frown, and only vaguely aware of the clink of crockery as Max did the dishes, he concentrated on hacking into the computers of Taylor Industries.
***********************************************************
"Anything?" asked Max, some hours later.
Logan leaned back wearily in his chair.
"I wish," he said morosely.
"Why don't you take a break?"
"No," he snapped, leaning forward again.
Max made a face. "Just an idea."
Frowning again elbow resting on the desk, and his chin resting on his hand, he shook his head. "There's something strange goin' on here. Something's not right."
"What d'you mean?" asked Max, munching on an apple, and pulling up the computer chair to sit on.
Logan simply shook his head again, fingers racing over the keyboard.
Watching his face, she thought he wouldn't notice a bomb going off in the next room. The next instant, a look of satisfaction crossed his face. "That's it," he said tensely.
Max looked back to the screen. "What is 'it'?" asked Max warily.
Logan turned to her. "Taylor Industries. It's a syndicate front."
"What?"
Logan was looking thoughtful again, his mind racing. "He never told me."
Max waited for him to go on.
Unlocking his brakes, he spun around to face her. "Bobby never told me where he got the evidence about the syndicate infiltration."
"Vincent?"
"Maybe." Logan still looked thoughtful.
"Does Vincent still work for Taylor Industries?" Max took another bite.
Logan turned his hands up and shrugged. "I can't find any data on him anywhere! It's as if he doesn't exist."
"Or he's dead," tossed in Max, taking a final bite.
"It's worth a try," muttered Logan
Not sure of what he was up to, Max watched for a few moments, then walked into the kitchen to toss her apple core.
"Hey."
She hurried back in, noting the tone of his voice.
With a satisfied smirk he looked up at her. "Always knew you were more than just a pretty face."
Wondering what he was on about, she looked at the screen. "He's dead?" she asked in genuine surprise.
"Well, he wants the world to think he is."
"Logan, how does this help us?" Max was frankly puzzled.
Logan scratched the back of his head, then thought better of it, remembering too late that he had a lump on it that was still quite large, and definitely still tender.
"I'm not sure it does."
Now Max looked frustrated. "Logan, you don't seem to be getting anywhere with this!"
"Tell me about it!" he bit back, trying to stretch his back out at the same time.
"You should probably get some rest," suggested Max in a milder tone.
"Yeah, well, it's not the eternal variety I'm after, and if I don't crack this tonight, that may well be what I end up with!"
"That's not very funny," said Max seriously.
"I meet with Matt at four," then looking at his watch added, "this afternoon."
"After what went down today, you're still goin' through with the meet?"
In a low voice and with surprising vehemence he stated "I'm not gonna be a prisoner in my own apartment."
"Get real to it, Logan!" she snapped back at him. "You just don't like the idea of someone beating you! This is all about your bad ass pride."
"No. This is about not being willing to let six weeks of hard work go down the drain!"
"Okay. If that's how you feel, why should I bother trying to save your ass!" And at that she strode over to the windows, and with a savage flourish threw open the curtains.
Angrily wheeling after her, heedless of his arm, he retorted, "Fine – 'cause I never asked you to save my ass in the first place!"
Max stood very still for a moment, then turned around and walked up to him, standing very close to his wheelchair. "You just don't get it, do you?" she asked him, in a voice full of meaning. "If you want me, I'll be in the guest room watching T.V." At that she turned on her heels and left the room.
Logan sat looking after her for a moment, his own conscience more than pricking him, and wondering considerably as to the meaning of her words.
Quite some time later, he was still staring bleary-eyed at the screen, having turned up nothing more on the elusive Vincent Carlisle. All his employment records had been withdrawn from Taylor Industries; it was as if he'd never worked there.
Logan sighed. The ache in his head had turned into a full-blown pounding, but more annoying than that was the continual stab of guilt he felt every time he thought of Max.
Catching sight of the bottle of painkillers Max had left on his desk, he put them on his lap and wheeled into the kitchen to get a drink of water.
Just at that moment, Max came out, her quick eyes noting the bottle on the counter and the water in his hand.
"Logan, look at this." She swept past him, turning on the television monitor in his study.
Coming round the corner, he could hear the reporter saying: "... ... not known who is responsible. Vernon Taylor had built the company from its beginnings as a small savings and loan company, into one of the biggest corporations in the country." The reporter then continued onto the next item.
"It's a little suspicious, wouldn't you say?"
His mind was only working at half pace. "We're talking Vernon Taylor, head of Taylor Industries, right?"
"Damn straight."
"How did he die?" asked Logan, trying to get his head around this new development.
"Kaboom!" said Max demonstratively.
"What's the tie-in to our guy?" he wondered out loud.
"You haven't heard the punch line," added Max quietly.
Logan leaned back, looking up at her.
"It happened here in Seattle."
Logan sat very still. The queasy feeling in his stomach had returned.
***********************************************************
Logan eventually went to bed, leaving Max sitting by the huge picture windows, deep in thought. She used her solitude wisely, and by the time Bling came by at daybreak, she had come to several decisions.
"Morning Max," greeted the trainer.
"Bling."
"Logan not up?" Bling looked around.
"His head's only been down a few hours."
"I'd better be real quiet then!" he whispered with a smile.
"I'm gonna stay on duty with 'his grumpiness.' He's insisting on the meet with Matt Sung." Even to Bling the concern was evident in her eyes. "I'm not real happy with it."
"Work?"
"I'll ring in. First, I got a few things to do. Will you hold the fort for me?"
"Fine by me."
She grabbed a small bag she had on the kitchen bench, and headed out the door.
***********************************************************
"Bling, you there?"
Max looked at the trainer with a grin. "His master calls."
Bling went in to find Logan sitting up in bed.
"Can you check this to see if I can get it wet now?" he asked, lifting his right arm in query.
"Good morning to you too," replied Bling with a touch of irony.
"Yeah."
"We're in fine form this morning."
Logan threw him a look.
"You look like hell," added Bling amiably, as he checked the knife wound.
"Whatever ... ow!" he added a second later, giving Bling the full benefit of one of his glares.
"Oops."
"Well, how is it?" asked Logan impatiently.
"I don't know why you're askin. You told me the doc said to keep it dry till you got the stitches out."
"I'm asking because I hate showering with a plastic bag over my arm!"
Knowing this was but the tip of the iceberg, Bling waited for more, but wasn't surprised when Logan abruptly stopped – getting Logan to open up was like getting the proverbial water from a stone.
Understanding something of the pressure he was under, he simply replied, "Sorry. You're stuck with it for a few days yet."
Without a word, Logan threw back his blankets, and still favouring his right arm, lifted his legs till they were over the side, transferred to his wheelchair, and headed for the bathroom.
'It's gonna be a happy day," mused Bling.
****************************************************
Sometime in the afternoon, Matt Sung rang to confirm the meet with the informant.
"That's fine Matt. I'll see you there." Ending his call, Logan put the phone on his lap and headed for the window. He hadn't seen the sun he recalled, since the day of their 'picnic.'
Even though the tension was still there, he could feel a dragging heaviness behind his eyes. He wished this whole mess was behind him, and that he could get into bed at night without wondering if he was still going to be alive the next day. He realized with surprise he'd been unconsciously gripping the wheels of his chair. He took them off, lifting his right hand to rub the back of his head, only to stop irritably when he realized his battered head wouldn't take too kindly to the action. Clenching his jaw, he watched the rain beginning to fall.
Max studied the figure by the window.
"Hey," she called to him gently.
As Logan turned his head, she could see the weariness in his eyes.
Max walked around the couch, and leaned on the back of it, her own eyes focusing on the drizzling rain.
"I know this meet is important to you," she began. "I think I've got a few ideas on how to make this work."
Logan nodded silently, his eyes still intent on the window.
"We need to do this my way," she went on, a little more forcefully.
"You're the boss," he agreed, with a tinge of sarcasm.
"Logan, this guy may be whacked, but he operates like a professional. I don't mean to take any chances. Are you sure you're cool with it?"
"Whatever you say."
Rather abruptly, he wheeled back to his computer.
***************************************************
Max stood next to Logan's Aztek, her enhanced eyesight doing a thorough check of their surroundings, which was an almost full garbage dump.
"Is this where your peeps hangout?" she'd sniffed when they reached the rendezvous.
"Only the more discerning ones," Logan had smiled, then looking out the car window said, "and there they are."
Matt Sung had driven up in his rather battered car, which looked like it would be right at home with some of the more fortunate car shells.
Mountains of garbage loomed on either side of them, a huge pile of car bodies immediately in front of them. There was only one entrance, through a rickety gate.
Max had insisted that Logan stay in the car at all times.
When Logan had started to protest, she reminded him that he'd promised to do it her way.
"I'm the boss, remember?" she said with one of her provocative smiles.
With a look of resignation, he'd simply folded his arms, and waited.
Matt got out of his car, with a careful look around, and headed over to the Aztek.
"Everything okay with you?" he queried, a little surprised at Max's presence.
"Just takin a few precautions," Logan said a little uneasily.
Matt had a battered brief case in his hand. "This is it," he said meaningfully, handing it over to Logan.
"The contact?"
Matt motioned to his car. "He's a bit paranoid. Thinks there are men with guns everywhere."
"If this information is as good as he says, there probably are." Logan scanned the garbage dump as he spoke.
"He wants to speak to you, but he's too scared to get out of the car."
Max gave Logan a look that said, "Don't even think about it!"
Aloud she said to Matt, "No way. He wants to talk, he comes here."
"We've had a spot of trouble lately," said Logan, by way of explanation.
The detective was immediately concerned. "You been compromised Logan?"
"No, nothing like that, but, you know, we're just taking - precautions." Logan tried to sound matter-of –fact.
The cars were about 40 yards apart from each other. Logan could make out the man in the back of Matt's car looking at them. He was about to wave a greeting, thinking this might put the man at ease, when unbelievably, the car before him burst into flames.
************************************************************
Both Matt Sung and Max saw the fire at the same time. It appeared as if the engine had ignited, and already they could feel the heat from the flames now beginning to tower above the car. To their horror, they could hear the man in the backseat screaming wildly, crying for help.
With a quick look back to Logan first, Max then raced to the car. The man in the backseat had completely panicked and sat frozen by fear, his mouth now contorted as he soundlessly screamed.
The door handles were already impossible to touch. The intensity of the heat at this proximity was incredible. Slipping off her jacket, she placed it over the doorknob and yanked with all her might. The door had obviously buckled with the intensity of the heat. She could see the man beginning to sag and the thought crossed her mind that there were better things in life than being blown into hundreds of pieces. Trying again desperately, she thankfully felt the door giving, and in the next instant it was open.
As soon as she had it open, Matt Sung dived forward, grabbed the man by the arm, and pulled him out, dragging him away from the car, and dumping him on the ground where he lay a quivering mess in the dirt.
In that instant Max turned round to check on Logan.
The Aztek was gone.
Frantically she looked towards the exit, in time to see the blue car roaring out the gate.
Indelibly printed on her mind was the image of a man seated next to Logan, in his hand a gun, pointing directly at Logan's head.
TBC