Thanks for all your positive reviews, and hope you all had a great
Christmas. I'm able to concentrate on my story again now!!! Sorry to keep
you in suspense for a few days!!!
Chapter 15
Logan had been so engrossed in the drama unfolding before him, that he hadn't noticed the figure running up to the passenger door of the Aztek.
He had been in the grip of indecision, not knowing whether he should get out of the car or stay - and even if he did get out, what could he do to help - when totally unexpectedly, the decision was taken out of his hands.
The first hint of danger had been the slight movement as the door opened, but by then it was already too late – he was literally staring down the barrel of a gun, a Baretta with a silencer attached.
Considering all the thoughts that could have passed through his mind at that point, the first one that rushed in was: 'I hate it when Max is right.'
He had no time for anything else. Only one word was spoken by his uninvited passenger, and with a gun being waved in his face, Logan would have understood that word even if it had been spoken in Swahili – "Drive."
Without hesitation, Logan started the car, and at first began to drive slowly, but a quick jab to his ribs with the nozzle of the gun encouraged him to fairly roar along the dirt track, and out the solitary gate.
His one consolation was that he thought for a moment he saw Max staring after him, but he was out on the road in the next instant, and the glimpse lost to sight.
For a moment he felt terribly alone.
Letting nothing of his thoughts show on his face, he continued to drive. The road was straight, so he decided to risk a look at his passenger.
With a sharp intake of breath, the most powerful thing he noticed was a pair of eyes in a pale face; green eyes, intensely green. To Logan they were the eyes of a killer.
"Well, this is a surprise," said Logan with a touch of sarcasm, his eyes on the road, ."though I must admit not an all together 'pleasant' one."
He raised his eyebrows as he heard the satirical laugh of the man beside him.
"I guess this is where I say - Vincent Carlisle I presume?" continued Logan.
"Correct." His passenger then added in the tone of a snake addressing it's next meal, "Logan Cale."
Logan shuddered mentally, thinking vaguely of ghosts walking on graves.
They were nearly out on the main road now - if they turned left they'd be heading back into Seattle itself.
Right on cue, Vincent said, "Turn right "
"D'you mind telling me where we're headed?" asked Logan conversationally.
"You're a clever man. I thought you would have worked that out by now."
Not wanting to give too much away, if indeed he knew anything at all to the point, he simply replied, "Not really."
"How did you like the gift I sent you?" asked Carlisle suddenly. He had an intense, almost unpredictable manner.
"And that would be?" Logan queried, continuing to play his own game.
At that, Carlisle showed impatience. "My brother told me you were intuitively clever. Don't waste my time." There was a slight edge to the last few words.
"Ahh. Then in that case I assume you mean the eight legged arthropod."
"Beautiful, wasn't it. I bought it from a black market dealer, an Australian variety. A 'Huntsman' they call it. An appropriate name, don't you think?"
Logan could hear his admiration for the species in his voice.
"They're quite harmless you know, but very large, some of them the size of a woman's hand."
Logan shuddered at the thought, mentally making a note to have Australia way down on his list of holiday destinations
"Why the spider?" Logan asked.
"Raindrops on roses," replied Carlisle cryptically.
"Whiskers on kittens," answered Logan dryly, the line springing from some far-flung memory of his childhood.
He sensed Carlisle grinning at him now. He couldn't resist a quick look at the man. Yep, he'd been right – he'd never seen a more unpleasant smile.
"Needles, spiders and ..." Carlisle left the last word hanging mockingly.
Logan swallowed hard. "Heights." He tried to sound cool about it. He wasn't quite sure he'd succeeded.
"Your 'Favourite Things.'"
Logan stole a look at him. "Aren't you goin' to an awful lot of trouble on all this."
"I've had ten years to think about it. Ten years to plan."
"Ten years to self-destruct." added Logan quietly.
"No. That happened when Bobby died." The man spoke with a stark, emotional coldness to his voice, as one already dead.
As he listened to Vincent Carlisle, Logan was aware of something deliberately inching it's way up his spine–the first inklings of real fear.
****************************************************** .
They drove on for some time. Carlisle had him do a series of turns, eventually doubling back till they were on another road, heading back into Seattle itself.
They were coming into the city precinct now. Logan wondered wildly if this could be a chance - they'd have to stop at traffic lights.
Unerringly, Carlisle seemed to read his thoughts again. "If you try anything, I will shoot you, dead if need be." Motioning to Logan's legs he added, "And I doubt you'd be able to move quickly enough, even it you were stupid enough to consider throwing yourself out of the car door."
Logan said nothing - He 'had' been silly enough to consider throwing himself out of the car door.
Suddenly Carlisle ground the gun hard into Logan's side. "Can you feel that?" he hissed, close enough for Logan to feel his breath. Getting no response he tried again, higher. This time Logan winced, arching his body towards the driver's door. The movement brought a smile of satisfaction to Carlisle's face. 'Oh, I want you dead all right, but," and he said the last words with grim satisfaction, "Fear is the Key, right?"
************************************************************************
Max had always felt bad about this meet.
She watched the Aztek disappear with a horrible twist to her gut, and the thought, 'I 'so' hate being right about this.'
It was with a certain amount of grim satisfaction that she felt thankful she'd acted on her instincts. Max had done three things -firstly, she'd put a tracking device on the Aztec, secondly she'd borrowed Bling's cell phone, and thirdly, she had insisted on riding her Ninja to the meet.
As she turned round to run back to where her motorbike was, she whipped the phone out of her jacket, quickly pressing the number for Logan's apartment.
With no time for pleasantries, she spoke abruptly into the phone. "Bling. It's Max. Carlisle has Logan. Where are they?"
Bling sat at Logan's computer, looking at a blank screen. His voice came back to her concerned. "I don't know Max. The tracker's been blocked."
"Damn!"
Without another word to either Bling, or Matt Sung who was running towards her, she revved the Ninja hard and followed Logan's car, only to find when she got out to the main road, that there was no sign of it. Cursing the failure of the tracking device, she momentarily paused, then with determination turned left.
***********************************************
"It's kinda hard to drive with your gun stickin' into my side." Logan grunted.
Looking at him intently for a moment, Carlisle removed the gun.
"Bobby got the information from you, didn't he?" said Logan mildly.
Carlisle made a sudden movement towards him, and Logan tensed instinctively, thinking for a moment he'd pushed too far, but the older man seemed to control himself.
"My brother said you were smart. He admired you, you know that?"
Logan was surprised. He'd always thought Bobby was the clever one – the 'Man who would be King' so to speak.
Carlisle was still talking. "I saw Bobby the morning after one of your parties. He told me you were all drunk, playing some sort of 'truth or dare' game. He asked you what you were most afraid of - pity you're so 'honourable' and told him the truth."
Carlisle gave a mirthless laugh. "Bobby was real surprised. He had you figured as some sort of superman – thought you wouldn't be afraid of anything."
"Well, I'm sorry I 'disappointed' him." Logan was careful to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, while at the same time trying to remember a moment of indiscretion from his college days that, unbeknown to him at the time, would have a momentous influence on his present predicament
"Oh, he wasn't disappointed. He told me you were 'complex' – whatever that means."
Logan wondering where all this was going, couldn't stop a small gasp of pain as the gun was rammed in his side again.
"You filled his head with thoughts of changing the world!" Carlisle accused him venomously.
"You've got it wrong," corrected Logan, doing his best to keep his voice smooth. "I was just a journalism major. Bobby wanted me to 'write' the article, but it was his fire, his enthusiasm that lit it."
Logan looked at Carlisle. "Either you never really knew your brother, or you're just lookin' for a scapegoat." The tension in the car was beginning to build.
"Maybe," Logan continued softly, "You're just tryin' to appease your own conscience. Bobby stumbled on to the information for the article through you, didn't he? 'You' were the one working for Vernon Taylor, a syndicate boss. He had an unfortunate accident I hear."
"He put the 'hit' out on Bobby." Carlisle voice shook with emotion. "You don't know what type of man he was."
Carlisle suddenly moved the gun from Logan's side to jab it into his thigh. Logan didn't even flinch. "I could put a bullet through you leg right here and you wouldn't feel a thing, would you?" Logan's eyes narrowed for a moment. "That's what Vernon Taylor's heart was like. You couldn't 'make' the man feel pain. He got what was coming to him," he finished grimly.
"You killed four innocent men. Davidson, Kransky, the others; they weren't responsible for Bobby's death. The March rally was always your brother's idea, He was the driving force." Logan's voice was cold now, speaking with an underlying outrage that an injustice had been committed. Max would have recognized the tone.
"Shut up. Shut Up," screamed Carlisle, spitting obscenities at him. Logan braced himself thinking for a moment he 'was' going to get a bullet in the leg, not particularly partial to the idea, whether he could feel it or not!
"Turn right here." ground out Carlisle, seemingly only just holding on to his self-control.
They were back in the high-rise district now, ironically not far from Fogle Towers.
With a sinking feeling, Logan knew what building they were headed for.
Behind them, unobserved, a black car followed their every move.
**********************************************************
Max road her bike into the gathering gloom, her face set, her mind focused, her attitude determined – she was going to get Logan back.
Where would Carlisle have taken Logan? The man was a whacko, but he was one with a mission. Carlisle would have had a plan. She thought back to everything she knew about him, her mind going back to the things Logan had told her: "It's personal, it's about me." he'd said. Fear is the Key. What key! Riding her bike purely by reflex, Max held rein on her thoughts with a ruthless pull, and concentrated on the matter at hand. What would Carlisle do? She knew it had to do with Logan's fears: spiders, needles, and ... heights? Damn!! Instantly her thoughts rushed to the Space Needle. As if on autopilot, her bike turned in that direction.
It was dark by the time she reached there, but that didn't bother her at all. Desperately she scanned the building and parking lot. Surely they would have been there before her!! With sickening disappointment, through the rain that was beginning to fall, she saw the parking lot was completely deserted. There was no sign of the Aztec anywhere. "Logan," she whispered painfully into the night.
**********************************************
Logan parked the car with a considerable amount of reluctance. At least while they were driving, he'd felt reasonably assured of his own safety, but getting out of the car was a different matter.
The building was deserted this time of night, the workers all safely in their own homes, cooking dinner, watching T.V, putting children to bed – it was a normalcy he could have done with right now.
Slowly he set up his wheelchair – no sense in rushing the inevitable.
"Max." His mind said the word unbidden. Where was she? What was she doing? He had to admit to himself that a part of him hoped she was worried about him.
Once Logan had set up his wheelchair, Carlisle checked it out thoroughly. "We don't want to find another tracking device, do we?"
Logan shrugged as if he knew, but in reality his brain was seething. Max hadn't told him about a tracking device.
"I'll have your cell phone too, and your gun of course." He took it from the compartment on the driver's door where Logan kept it within easy reach. Logan was becoming more and more annoyed – was there anything about him this man didn't know?
Something of his annoyance must have shown on his face, because Carlisle said with a certain amount of pride, "I 'am' a 'professional.'"
Logan quickly looked away, and stared through the windscreen again. 'A professional' –the word hung on the air - that's what Max had said too.
"Come on." Carlisle was rattling his wheelchair impatiently. Making a face, Logan transferred into it, with a look up at the building they were about to enter.
"Too bad. There are steps," said Logan, 'disappointed'. "Guess we'll just hafta turn round and go home."
"Take the ramp to the right." Carlisle spoke without hesitation.
Logan nodded with a wry smile. "Yeah. Right."
He cast a quick look around, hoping against hope for a sign of Max, but if she 'was' there, she certainly wasn't showing herself.
Carlisle watched him as he pushed himself up the ramp. "I'll say this for you Cale – you're a cool customer."
"Isn't that a bit of a retro remark?" Logan was hardly interested in a compliment from a man who meant to kill him.
"Must have been hard for you ending up in that." He motioned to the wheelchair as he spoke.
Logan stopped for a moment and looked up at Carlisle, surprised at the others words, and in spite of himself, all the resentment for his situation mirrored in his face. "I hardly think our current relationship invites me to share with you on a personal level," he said, with undisguised loathing.
"Touche." Carlisle appeared unoffended as Logan pushed himself through the self-opening doors. The gun was still in his hand, pointing at Logan's back, but he'd hidden it with his jacket thrown over his arm.
There was one security guard on duty, staring at a bank of monitors. "Can I help you? The building is closing in 5 minutes." They were destined to be his last words.
Logan felt a wave of revulsion and anger flood through him. "Was that really necessary?"
"Without a doubt" Carlisle replied mercilessly.
Logan looked up at him with complete distaste.
Carlisle was at the bank of monitors now. "Excellent. We've timed it well." He didn't bother to hide the gun now, so Logan could only assume this meant the building was deserted. "Into the elevator."
The doors of the elevator closed with ominous finality. If he'd felt alone before, the sensation was even more over-powering now
************************************************************************
The man surveyed the dead security guard with contempt, and then with a small noise of satisfaction, he watched the two figures emerging from the elevator on one of the monitors.
**********************************************
Max pulled out Bling's cell phone, feeling the first small ripples of despair.
"Bling. It's me."
"What's happening Max?"
She didn't waste time on explanations. "Bling, give me a read out on the tallest building in Seattle." She was playing a hunch.
Bling's voice came back on the line within less than a minute. "The Jupiter Building. Completed December 2008. Owned by Taylor Industries. One hundred and fifteen floors. Max cut him off. "Got it."
This time Max was certain she had the right destination. She bit back the second question – was she going to be there in time?
************************************************************************
It was with considerable dismay that Logan saw him punch the button for the observation deck, feeling himself beginning to sweat just thinking about looking down from the top floor. 'I've done the 'thrown off a building' thing – surely that couldn't happen twice in one person's life' he mused without humour.
He thought of the letter: 'This Time the Bullet will Kill.' Going by Carlisle's previous MO, it would appear this was yet another of his 'fear' plays. He couldn't help but reflect that having experienced both being shot and plunging of a building, in all honesty he couldn't find anything particularly pleasant about either option.
Carlisle appeared to hold a set of skeleton keys for the building, and in seconds he had the key to the observation deck open.
Instantly Logan shivered, telling himself it was just the icy wind that blew through him. The observation deck was an open affair, running the circumference of the building, visitors being protected by a wire mesh that fully enclosed the floor.
The views were captivating, but Logan spent a good deal of his time up there studiously ignoring their magnificence. "Okay. You got me here – now what?"
"I do hope you're enjoying the view. Even in these times, the vista of sparkling lights is really quite breathtaking." In the manner of one out for a country walk, Carlisle breathed in appreciatively. "Come over here, where you can admire it.
"Oh, I can see it all right,' responded Logan quickly, giving an ironic smile, "it certainly takes my breath away" – and any serious thought I might have had for the next few hours he added to himself.
He looked up to see Carlisle regarding him intently.
*******************************************************
The roads were becoming slick and dangerous with the rain, but Max drove with the precision and speed of a professional racer. Fortunately for her, it appeared as if the rain had dampened the enthusiasm of the sector police – not one challenged her or attempted to cite her for speeding, which was probably fortunate for the policeman himself.
In record time she drew up outside the Jupiter building. Her eyes hungrily searching for one thing only, failed to notice the opulence and grandeur of the building in these post pulse times. With a flooding relief she found what she'd been so desperately hoping for – in full view was Logan's Aztec.
TBC
Don't yell at me - I didn't mean to do another cliffhanger. I just didn't want to rush the denouement!!! Next chapter will be up soon, I promise!!
Chapter 15
Logan had been so engrossed in the drama unfolding before him, that he hadn't noticed the figure running up to the passenger door of the Aztek.
He had been in the grip of indecision, not knowing whether he should get out of the car or stay - and even if he did get out, what could he do to help - when totally unexpectedly, the decision was taken out of his hands.
The first hint of danger had been the slight movement as the door opened, but by then it was already too late – he was literally staring down the barrel of a gun, a Baretta with a silencer attached.
Considering all the thoughts that could have passed through his mind at that point, the first one that rushed in was: 'I hate it when Max is right.'
He had no time for anything else. Only one word was spoken by his uninvited passenger, and with a gun being waved in his face, Logan would have understood that word even if it had been spoken in Swahili – "Drive."
Without hesitation, Logan started the car, and at first began to drive slowly, but a quick jab to his ribs with the nozzle of the gun encouraged him to fairly roar along the dirt track, and out the solitary gate.
His one consolation was that he thought for a moment he saw Max staring after him, but he was out on the road in the next instant, and the glimpse lost to sight.
For a moment he felt terribly alone.
Letting nothing of his thoughts show on his face, he continued to drive. The road was straight, so he decided to risk a look at his passenger.
With a sharp intake of breath, the most powerful thing he noticed was a pair of eyes in a pale face; green eyes, intensely green. To Logan they were the eyes of a killer.
"Well, this is a surprise," said Logan with a touch of sarcasm, his eyes on the road, ."though I must admit not an all together 'pleasant' one."
He raised his eyebrows as he heard the satirical laugh of the man beside him.
"I guess this is where I say - Vincent Carlisle I presume?" continued Logan.
"Correct." His passenger then added in the tone of a snake addressing it's next meal, "Logan Cale."
Logan shuddered mentally, thinking vaguely of ghosts walking on graves.
They were nearly out on the main road now - if they turned left they'd be heading back into Seattle itself.
Right on cue, Vincent said, "Turn right "
"D'you mind telling me where we're headed?" asked Logan conversationally.
"You're a clever man. I thought you would have worked that out by now."
Not wanting to give too much away, if indeed he knew anything at all to the point, he simply replied, "Not really."
"How did you like the gift I sent you?" asked Carlisle suddenly. He had an intense, almost unpredictable manner.
"And that would be?" Logan queried, continuing to play his own game.
At that, Carlisle showed impatience. "My brother told me you were intuitively clever. Don't waste my time." There was a slight edge to the last few words.
"Ahh. Then in that case I assume you mean the eight legged arthropod."
"Beautiful, wasn't it. I bought it from a black market dealer, an Australian variety. A 'Huntsman' they call it. An appropriate name, don't you think?"
Logan could hear his admiration for the species in his voice.
"They're quite harmless you know, but very large, some of them the size of a woman's hand."
Logan shuddered at the thought, mentally making a note to have Australia way down on his list of holiday destinations
"Why the spider?" Logan asked.
"Raindrops on roses," replied Carlisle cryptically.
"Whiskers on kittens," answered Logan dryly, the line springing from some far-flung memory of his childhood.
He sensed Carlisle grinning at him now. He couldn't resist a quick look at the man. Yep, he'd been right – he'd never seen a more unpleasant smile.
"Needles, spiders and ..." Carlisle left the last word hanging mockingly.
Logan swallowed hard. "Heights." He tried to sound cool about it. He wasn't quite sure he'd succeeded.
"Your 'Favourite Things.'"
Logan stole a look at him. "Aren't you goin' to an awful lot of trouble on all this."
"I've had ten years to think about it. Ten years to plan."
"Ten years to self-destruct." added Logan quietly.
"No. That happened when Bobby died." The man spoke with a stark, emotional coldness to his voice, as one already dead.
As he listened to Vincent Carlisle, Logan was aware of something deliberately inching it's way up his spine–the first inklings of real fear.
****************************************************** .
They drove on for some time. Carlisle had him do a series of turns, eventually doubling back till they were on another road, heading back into Seattle itself.
They were coming into the city precinct now. Logan wondered wildly if this could be a chance - they'd have to stop at traffic lights.
Unerringly, Carlisle seemed to read his thoughts again. "If you try anything, I will shoot you, dead if need be." Motioning to Logan's legs he added, "And I doubt you'd be able to move quickly enough, even it you were stupid enough to consider throwing yourself out of the car door."
Logan said nothing - He 'had' been silly enough to consider throwing himself out of the car door.
Suddenly Carlisle ground the gun hard into Logan's side. "Can you feel that?" he hissed, close enough for Logan to feel his breath. Getting no response he tried again, higher. This time Logan winced, arching his body towards the driver's door. The movement brought a smile of satisfaction to Carlisle's face. 'Oh, I want you dead all right, but," and he said the last words with grim satisfaction, "Fear is the Key, right?"
************************************************************************
Max had always felt bad about this meet.
She watched the Aztek disappear with a horrible twist to her gut, and the thought, 'I 'so' hate being right about this.'
It was with a certain amount of grim satisfaction that she felt thankful she'd acted on her instincts. Max had done three things -firstly, she'd put a tracking device on the Aztec, secondly she'd borrowed Bling's cell phone, and thirdly, she had insisted on riding her Ninja to the meet.
As she turned round to run back to where her motorbike was, she whipped the phone out of her jacket, quickly pressing the number for Logan's apartment.
With no time for pleasantries, she spoke abruptly into the phone. "Bling. It's Max. Carlisle has Logan. Where are they?"
Bling sat at Logan's computer, looking at a blank screen. His voice came back to her concerned. "I don't know Max. The tracker's been blocked."
"Damn!"
Without another word to either Bling, or Matt Sung who was running towards her, she revved the Ninja hard and followed Logan's car, only to find when she got out to the main road, that there was no sign of it. Cursing the failure of the tracking device, she momentarily paused, then with determination turned left.
***********************************************
"It's kinda hard to drive with your gun stickin' into my side." Logan grunted.
Looking at him intently for a moment, Carlisle removed the gun.
"Bobby got the information from you, didn't he?" said Logan mildly.
Carlisle made a sudden movement towards him, and Logan tensed instinctively, thinking for a moment he'd pushed too far, but the older man seemed to control himself.
"My brother said you were smart. He admired you, you know that?"
Logan was surprised. He'd always thought Bobby was the clever one – the 'Man who would be King' so to speak.
Carlisle was still talking. "I saw Bobby the morning after one of your parties. He told me you were all drunk, playing some sort of 'truth or dare' game. He asked you what you were most afraid of - pity you're so 'honourable' and told him the truth."
Carlisle gave a mirthless laugh. "Bobby was real surprised. He had you figured as some sort of superman – thought you wouldn't be afraid of anything."
"Well, I'm sorry I 'disappointed' him." Logan was careful to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, while at the same time trying to remember a moment of indiscretion from his college days that, unbeknown to him at the time, would have a momentous influence on his present predicament
"Oh, he wasn't disappointed. He told me you were 'complex' – whatever that means."
Logan wondering where all this was going, couldn't stop a small gasp of pain as the gun was rammed in his side again.
"You filled his head with thoughts of changing the world!" Carlisle accused him venomously.
"You've got it wrong," corrected Logan, doing his best to keep his voice smooth. "I was just a journalism major. Bobby wanted me to 'write' the article, but it was his fire, his enthusiasm that lit it."
Logan looked at Carlisle. "Either you never really knew your brother, or you're just lookin' for a scapegoat." The tension in the car was beginning to build.
"Maybe," Logan continued softly, "You're just tryin' to appease your own conscience. Bobby stumbled on to the information for the article through you, didn't he? 'You' were the one working for Vernon Taylor, a syndicate boss. He had an unfortunate accident I hear."
"He put the 'hit' out on Bobby." Carlisle voice shook with emotion. "You don't know what type of man he was."
Carlisle suddenly moved the gun from Logan's side to jab it into his thigh. Logan didn't even flinch. "I could put a bullet through you leg right here and you wouldn't feel a thing, would you?" Logan's eyes narrowed for a moment. "That's what Vernon Taylor's heart was like. You couldn't 'make' the man feel pain. He got what was coming to him," he finished grimly.
"You killed four innocent men. Davidson, Kransky, the others; they weren't responsible for Bobby's death. The March rally was always your brother's idea, He was the driving force." Logan's voice was cold now, speaking with an underlying outrage that an injustice had been committed. Max would have recognized the tone.
"Shut up. Shut Up," screamed Carlisle, spitting obscenities at him. Logan braced himself thinking for a moment he 'was' going to get a bullet in the leg, not particularly partial to the idea, whether he could feel it or not!
"Turn right here." ground out Carlisle, seemingly only just holding on to his self-control.
They were back in the high-rise district now, ironically not far from Fogle Towers.
With a sinking feeling, Logan knew what building they were headed for.
Behind them, unobserved, a black car followed their every move.
**********************************************************
Max road her bike into the gathering gloom, her face set, her mind focused, her attitude determined – she was going to get Logan back.
Where would Carlisle have taken Logan? The man was a whacko, but he was one with a mission. Carlisle would have had a plan. She thought back to everything she knew about him, her mind going back to the things Logan had told her: "It's personal, it's about me." he'd said. Fear is the Key. What key! Riding her bike purely by reflex, Max held rein on her thoughts with a ruthless pull, and concentrated on the matter at hand. What would Carlisle do? She knew it had to do with Logan's fears: spiders, needles, and ... heights? Damn!! Instantly her thoughts rushed to the Space Needle. As if on autopilot, her bike turned in that direction.
It was dark by the time she reached there, but that didn't bother her at all. Desperately she scanned the building and parking lot. Surely they would have been there before her!! With sickening disappointment, through the rain that was beginning to fall, she saw the parking lot was completely deserted. There was no sign of the Aztec anywhere. "Logan," she whispered painfully into the night.
**********************************************
Logan parked the car with a considerable amount of reluctance. At least while they were driving, he'd felt reasonably assured of his own safety, but getting out of the car was a different matter.
The building was deserted this time of night, the workers all safely in their own homes, cooking dinner, watching T.V, putting children to bed – it was a normalcy he could have done with right now.
Slowly he set up his wheelchair – no sense in rushing the inevitable.
"Max." His mind said the word unbidden. Where was she? What was she doing? He had to admit to himself that a part of him hoped she was worried about him.
Once Logan had set up his wheelchair, Carlisle checked it out thoroughly. "We don't want to find another tracking device, do we?"
Logan shrugged as if he knew, but in reality his brain was seething. Max hadn't told him about a tracking device.
"I'll have your cell phone too, and your gun of course." He took it from the compartment on the driver's door where Logan kept it within easy reach. Logan was becoming more and more annoyed – was there anything about him this man didn't know?
Something of his annoyance must have shown on his face, because Carlisle said with a certain amount of pride, "I 'am' a 'professional.'"
Logan quickly looked away, and stared through the windscreen again. 'A professional' –the word hung on the air - that's what Max had said too.
"Come on." Carlisle was rattling his wheelchair impatiently. Making a face, Logan transferred into it, with a look up at the building they were about to enter.
"Too bad. There are steps," said Logan, 'disappointed'. "Guess we'll just hafta turn round and go home."
"Take the ramp to the right." Carlisle spoke without hesitation.
Logan nodded with a wry smile. "Yeah. Right."
He cast a quick look around, hoping against hope for a sign of Max, but if she 'was' there, she certainly wasn't showing herself.
Carlisle watched him as he pushed himself up the ramp. "I'll say this for you Cale – you're a cool customer."
"Isn't that a bit of a retro remark?" Logan was hardly interested in a compliment from a man who meant to kill him.
"Must have been hard for you ending up in that." He motioned to the wheelchair as he spoke.
Logan stopped for a moment and looked up at Carlisle, surprised at the others words, and in spite of himself, all the resentment for his situation mirrored in his face. "I hardly think our current relationship invites me to share with you on a personal level," he said, with undisguised loathing.
"Touche." Carlisle appeared unoffended as Logan pushed himself through the self-opening doors. The gun was still in his hand, pointing at Logan's back, but he'd hidden it with his jacket thrown over his arm.
There was one security guard on duty, staring at a bank of monitors. "Can I help you? The building is closing in 5 minutes." They were destined to be his last words.
Logan felt a wave of revulsion and anger flood through him. "Was that really necessary?"
"Without a doubt" Carlisle replied mercilessly.
Logan looked up at him with complete distaste.
Carlisle was at the bank of monitors now. "Excellent. We've timed it well." He didn't bother to hide the gun now, so Logan could only assume this meant the building was deserted. "Into the elevator."
The doors of the elevator closed with ominous finality. If he'd felt alone before, the sensation was even more over-powering now
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The man surveyed the dead security guard with contempt, and then with a small noise of satisfaction, he watched the two figures emerging from the elevator on one of the monitors.
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Max pulled out Bling's cell phone, feeling the first small ripples of despair.
"Bling. It's me."
"What's happening Max?"
She didn't waste time on explanations. "Bling, give me a read out on the tallest building in Seattle." She was playing a hunch.
Bling's voice came back on the line within less than a minute. "The Jupiter Building. Completed December 2008. Owned by Taylor Industries. One hundred and fifteen floors. Max cut him off. "Got it."
This time Max was certain she had the right destination. She bit back the second question – was she going to be there in time?
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It was with considerable dismay that Logan saw him punch the button for the observation deck, feeling himself beginning to sweat just thinking about looking down from the top floor. 'I've done the 'thrown off a building' thing – surely that couldn't happen twice in one person's life' he mused without humour.
He thought of the letter: 'This Time the Bullet will Kill.' Going by Carlisle's previous MO, it would appear this was yet another of his 'fear' plays. He couldn't help but reflect that having experienced both being shot and plunging of a building, in all honesty he couldn't find anything particularly pleasant about either option.
Carlisle appeared to hold a set of skeleton keys for the building, and in seconds he had the key to the observation deck open.
Instantly Logan shivered, telling himself it was just the icy wind that blew through him. The observation deck was an open affair, running the circumference of the building, visitors being protected by a wire mesh that fully enclosed the floor.
The views were captivating, but Logan spent a good deal of his time up there studiously ignoring their magnificence. "Okay. You got me here – now what?"
"I do hope you're enjoying the view. Even in these times, the vista of sparkling lights is really quite breathtaking." In the manner of one out for a country walk, Carlisle breathed in appreciatively. "Come over here, where you can admire it.
"Oh, I can see it all right,' responded Logan quickly, giving an ironic smile, "it certainly takes my breath away" – and any serious thought I might have had for the next few hours he added to himself.
He looked up to see Carlisle regarding him intently.
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The roads were becoming slick and dangerous with the rain, but Max drove with the precision and speed of a professional racer. Fortunately for her, it appeared as if the rain had dampened the enthusiasm of the sector police – not one challenged her or attempted to cite her for speeding, which was probably fortunate for the policeman himself.
In record time she drew up outside the Jupiter building. Her eyes hungrily searching for one thing only, failed to notice the opulence and grandeur of the building in these post pulse times. With a flooding relief she found what she'd been so desperately hoping for – in full view was Logan's Aztec.
TBC
Don't yell at me - I didn't mean to do another cliffhanger. I just didn't want to rush the denouement!!! Next chapter will be up soon, I promise!!