The Story of Max Cale
by pari106
pari106@hotmail.com
http://www.geocities.com/pari106/damain.html
Code: M/Z; (rating and disclaimer in first chapter).
part 6
by pari106
To Logan, the entire set up was like something out of an old movie. Go
to the park, sit on a bench, look for the guy reading yesterday's paper.
Find moose and squirrel.
If this was how Manticore handled all its operations, then Logan's
family had worried for nothing. Max couldn't possibly been in much
danger from an organization that foolish.
And if this was just some old movie, then it was a long one. Because
Logan sat there a full hour and saw nothing. Then he sat there a little
longer.
Nothing.
He sat there till the goddamned sun began to set. Then he left for his
car, irritated, cold and hungry.
But as soon as he slid in behind the wheel, someone else slid into the
seat beside him.
"Excuse me, can I…" Logan's words died on his lips.
Because the someone else was holding a gun in his lap, and it was
pointed straight at Logan.
The man was older than him, with graying blonde hair and a hard face.
He was wearing a long, black trench coat. He didn't even look at
Logan, he just closed his door, and settled comfortably in his seat.
Handgun unmoving.
"Drive," he said simply.
Logan couldn't very well argue with that. So he closed his door and
drove.
**** ****
"It would help if I knew where I was going," he said, finally, sometime
later. He didn't sound like a man who was being held hostage,
essentially, at gunpoint. He sounded calm.
Actually, no, he wasn't calm. He was annoyed.
Deck made a quick assessment of the young man sitting beside him.
Tall, blonde, unshaven. Rich, obviously, if his casual yet expensive
clothing were any indication. Good-looking kid, Deck concluded. The
most dangerous kind of all.
And smart, Deck would wager. Despite the fact that he'd just spent all
day sitting in a park, staring at other people's newspapers. What? Did
he really think former colonel Donald Lydecker, one time war hero,
was just going to announce his whereabouts to some unknown hotshot,
then sit there like an open target? But at least the guy had had enough
brains to find him. That said something. Deck had been hiding out in
Wyoming for about ten years, and even his own people hadn't found
him. He'd been living practically right under their noses, and they
hadn't found him. But this kid had.
And he was cool, Deck could give him that, too. The hands gripping
the steering wheel were steady. The blue eyes watching the road in
front of them revealed nothing.
And he sounded annoyed.
A man once trained as an army sharpshooter was sitting in his car with
a gun pointed at his chest, and he was annoyed.
Deck liked the guy already.
"Stop," he suddenly ordered.
"Excuse me?"
"Stop the car," Deck clarified, slowly.
Logan just looked at him. Then he kind of shook his head…and pulled
the car to the side of the road.
"Of course," he mumbled, "drive…stop…you army types are real
talkative, aren't you."
Deck took a look around them. Logan had pulled the car into a
conveniently located rest area, and had stopped behind a cluster of
trees. Perfect.
Deck put the gun away, noticing that Logan was watching his every
move, though he was trying to be inconspicuous.
Deck kept his expression carefully neutral.
"You know who I am, son?" he asked.
Logan raised an eyebrow. Deck was still measuring him. 'Cocky,
huh?' he thought. Good-looking and cocky. It was worse than he'd
thought.
Logan answered his question with one of his own.
"Let me guess…that 'wait in the park and look for the newspaper' bit
was some sort of military humor?'
Deck couldn't help but smile.
"I could have been just some mugger off of the street," he reasoned.
Logan shrugged. "I suppose. But not with that issue," he said, meeting
Deck's cool, assessing gaze with his own, referring to the older man's
gun.
Deck's estimation of the younger man rose once again. So the kid had
noticed? Good. He'd purposefully chosen the piece because he knew
it was the new government standard.
The two men just stared at one another for a moment.
And all this time that Lydecker had been assessing him, Logan had
been making some assessments of his own. He knew Donald
Lydecker's type. And he knew the man's reputation. He knew he did
nothing and said nothing without a reason. He was cunning. And
dangerous when he wanted to be. Logan couldn't afford to make a
single slip with this man.
But Lydecker was also the man who'd helped Max escape Manticore.
If she truly was from Manticore. He had to be. It just all fit together
too well: Lydecker's going AWOL, the disappearance of a Manticore
doctor, the appearance of the caseworker who'd found Max. Logan
had developed a theory about what had happened ten years ago. He
thought the Manticore doctor *was* the caseworker. She'd stolen Max
and she'd run away. And Lydecker had helped her. Logan only had to
prove his theory.
And he wanted to prove it fast. He hated leaving Max at home right
now. And, as much as he wanted to make the right impression with
this tough, old colonel, he also didn't want to waste any time in
Wyoming, when that would-be-cat-burglar of his was still back in
Washington. With Max.
So Logan was the first one to break the silence between the two men.
"Colonel Lydecker?" he finally asked.
The man just continued to look at him, then he opened his door.
"Let's go for a walk, son," he told him.
So Logan followed him out of the car.
by pari106
pari106@hotmail.com
http://www.geocities.com/pari106/damain.html
Code: M/Z; (rating and disclaimer in first chapter).
part 6
by pari106
To Logan, the entire set up was like something out of an old movie. Go
to the park, sit on a bench, look for the guy reading yesterday's paper.
Find moose and squirrel.
If this was how Manticore handled all its operations, then Logan's
family had worried for nothing. Max couldn't possibly been in much
danger from an organization that foolish.
And if this was just some old movie, then it was a long one. Because
Logan sat there a full hour and saw nothing. Then he sat there a little
longer.
Nothing.
He sat there till the goddamned sun began to set. Then he left for his
car, irritated, cold and hungry.
But as soon as he slid in behind the wheel, someone else slid into the
seat beside him.
"Excuse me, can I…" Logan's words died on his lips.
Because the someone else was holding a gun in his lap, and it was
pointed straight at Logan.
The man was older than him, with graying blonde hair and a hard face.
He was wearing a long, black trench coat. He didn't even look at
Logan, he just closed his door, and settled comfortably in his seat.
Handgun unmoving.
"Drive," he said simply.
Logan couldn't very well argue with that. So he closed his door and
drove.
**** ****
"It would help if I knew where I was going," he said, finally, sometime
later. He didn't sound like a man who was being held hostage,
essentially, at gunpoint. He sounded calm.
Actually, no, he wasn't calm. He was annoyed.
Deck made a quick assessment of the young man sitting beside him.
Tall, blonde, unshaven. Rich, obviously, if his casual yet expensive
clothing were any indication. Good-looking kid, Deck concluded. The
most dangerous kind of all.
And smart, Deck would wager. Despite the fact that he'd just spent all
day sitting in a park, staring at other people's newspapers. What? Did
he really think former colonel Donald Lydecker, one time war hero,
was just going to announce his whereabouts to some unknown hotshot,
then sit there like an open target? But at least the guy had had enough
brains to find him. That said something. Deck had been hiding out in
Wyoming for about ten years, and even his own people hadn't found
him. He'd been living practically right under their noses, and they
hadn't found him. But this kid had.
And he was cool, Deck could give him that, too. The hands gripping
the steering wheel were steady. The blue eyes watching the road in
front of them revealed nothing.
And he sounded annoyed.
A man once trained as an army sharpshooter was sitting in his car with
a gun pointed at his chest, and he was annoyed.
Deck liked the guy already.
"Stop," he suddenly ordered.
"Excuse me?"
"Stop the car," Deck clarified, slowly.
Logan just looked at him. Then he kind of shook his head…and pulled
the car to the side of the road.
"Of course," he mumbled, "drive…stop…you army types are real
talkative, aren't you."
Deck took a look around them. Logan had pulled the car into a
conveniently located rest area, and had stopped behind a cluster of
trees. Perfect.
Deck put the gun away, noticing that Logan was watching his every
move, though he was trying to be inconspicuous.
Deck kept his expression carefully neutral.
"You know who I am, son?" he asked.
Logan raised an eyebrow. Deck was still measuring him. 'Cocky,
huh?' he thought. Good-looking and cocky. It was worse than he'd
thought.
Logan answered his question with one of his own.
"Let me guess…that 'wait in the park and look for the newspaper' bit
was some sort of military humor?'
Deck couldn't help but smile.
"I could have been just some mugger off of the street," he reasoned.
Logan shrugged. "I suppose. But not with that issue," he said, meeting
Deck's cool, assessing gaze with his own, referring to the older man's
gun.
Deck's estimation of the younger man rose once again. So the kid had
noticed? Good. He'd purposefully chosen the piece because he knew
it was the new government standard.
The two men just stared at one another for a moment.
And all this time that Lydecker had been assessing him, Logan had
been making some assessments of his own. He knew Donald
Lydecker's type. And he knew the man's reputation. He knew he did
nothing and said nothing without a reason. He was cunning. And
dangerous when he wanted to be. Logan couldn't afford to make a
single slip with this man.
But Lydecker was also the man who'd helped Max escape Manticore.
If she truly was from Manticore. He had to be. It just all fit together
too well: Lydecker's going AWOL, the disappearance of a Manticore
doctor, the appearance of the caseworker who'd found Max. Logan
had developed a theory about what had happened ten years ago. He
thought the Manticore doctor *was* the caseworker. She'd stolen Max
and she'd run away. And Lydecker had helped her. Logan only had to
prove his theory.
And he wanted to prove it fast. He hated leaving Max at home right
now. And, as much as he wanted to make the right impression with
this tough, old colonel, he also didn't want to waste any time in
Wyoming, when that would-be-cat-burglar of his was still back in
Washington. With Max.
So Logan was the first one to break the silence between the two men.
"Colonel Lydecker?" he finally asked.
The man just continued to look at him, then he opened his door.
"Let's go for a walk, son," he told him.
So Logan followed him out of the car.