Thanks once more for all your reviews, they are very, very much appreciated
as always.
My thanks as usual to my very patient Beta, Alaidh!!
A/N: Neither the author or her beta know a great deal about logging camps, so please take note that this is all a product of the author's imagination!! Other than that, please read and enjoy!!!
Chapter 8.
Left to himself, Logan moodily tossed another log on the fire, watching the flames sizzle slightly as the moisture in the log was evaporated.
He didn't know how long he sat mesmerized by the flames, but eventually he looked around, and seeing the remains of their S'mores, gathered them up and took them out to the kitchen, with the intention of making himself a hot drink.
Away from the fire, it was noticeable how cold the rest of the house was. "Next time I come up here in summer," he muttered, as he lit the gas to boil the elderly kettle they were supplied with.
Looking in the fridge, he found Max's prized chicken. Half-smiling he realized she must have killed one of the chickens from Charlie's place, and wondered how he'd feel about cooking and eating stolen goods. Something of his mind's earlier confusion came back to him, but he couldn't remember why it was important to him that Max had snapped the chicken's neck.
He had just put the milk down on the table when he thought he heard a sound outside. The worst of the storm seemed to have passed, and the wild gale had been subdued to fresh winds.
He paused, listening, but the sound wasn't repeated.
Having made his coffee, he pulled off the blanket that was still wrapped around his legs, and carefully wedging the hot drink between them, knowing Bling would have a fit if he saw him, he wheeled back to the fire, quickly putting the hot drink down on a small table nearby.
He wondered how Max and Zack were doing, thinking to himself with a wry smile that Zack would be a lot more relaxed being alone with Max. Unexpectedly, he heard the sound again.
Startled, this time sure he heard a noise from behind the kitchen door, he tensed, not quite sure what to do. He carried his gun with him, but that was in his bag in the bedroom.
With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he couldn't help thinking he didn't want to go through the evening's events at Cape Haven again. He was still coming to terms with the images of the four men he had killed.
The shattering of glass in the backdoor resolved the issue.
It was too late to do anything.
**********************************
Max and Zack turned into the road where the cabin was.
"We'll park the car away from the house, just in case," Zack said, quickly glancing at Max's profile.
Her face was expressionless. Her eyes intent on the road as she skidded to a quick halt, far enough away from the cabin where their lights wouldn't be seen.
"We're probably just jumping to conclusions," Zack added.
"Yeah, right," was Max's grim reply, the gnawing in her stomach not relieved.
They both opened their doors, and as they did so, the big black dog in the back that had sat quietly throughout the short trip back, saw a chance for freedom and scrambled over the back seat to jump out Zack's door.
"Don't make a sound!" Max growled at it, the dog becoming more subdued immediately.
Without a noise, their black clothing swallowed up in the moonless night, they made their way to the cabin.
All looked as they had left it, there was no sign of another car, just the same few lights burning in the windows.
Zack signaled to Max, and they split up, Zack to the back door, Max to the front door, which opened onto the living room.
Holding her breath, she slowly opened the door, willing it not to creak.
The words she heard made her eyes narrow, her mouth in a straight line.
"My Mamma always told me I shouldn't hit a man with glasses, but she didn't say anything about wheelchairs."
The sound of flesh hitting flesh followed his words.
"It looks like I'm just gonna have to fill in the gaps of your education for you," a voice said from the doorway.
He should have been afraid, but all he saw was a young woman, a very beautiful young woman.
In that instant, Zack exploded from the kitchen, which was Max's signal.
Logan, still in his wheelchair, his hands tied behind his back, and a trickle of blood at the side of his mouth, watched as Max and Zack flew into action.
The whole affair was a bit blurred as the man who had hit him, true to his upbringing, had very thoughtfully put Logan's glasses down on a small lamp table.
With consternation, Logan could just make out his glasses being knocked to the floor, as the man Zack fought fell against the table. The next instant they were kicked by the second man who came at Zack, to land under Max's feet.
Logan hadn't brought a spare pair with him, and he grimaced in readiness, expecting her foot to crunch down on them any minute. Breathing a sigh of relief, squinting slightly he saw them knocked by Max's foot tantalizingly close to his own feet. 'If only I had my hands free,' he thought, as Zack threw another figure into his range of vision.
With a sinking feeling, Logan saw the big man stepping backwards, one large foot poised inches from his glasses, one large foot about to relentlessly smash them into pieces.
Hardly able to take in what happened next, a black shape came bounding over, and stopped immediately behind the man. The assailant, his legs now caught on the shape behind him, felt himself toppling backwards towards Logan, who with his hands behind his back, could do nothing to save himself.
Seeing Logan's predicament at the same moment, Zack and Max, with their incredible reflexes, both reached forward to grab the man by an arm on either side, and by throwing their own weight slightly forward were able to steady him and prevent him from crashing into Logan.
Breathing out and letting his tensed muscles relax, Logan was amazed to have his glasses deposited in his lap by Charlie's very happy, tail- wagging, big, black dog.
Of the three intruders, two lay unconscious on the ground, and the man who had hit Logan now stared into the startled faces of the two X5's.
"You!" both Max and Zack said at the same moment, then looked at each other in surprise.
The man they held was Brandon.
Logan cringed. This was gonna take some explaining.
In unison, Zack and Max looked at Logan, their faces bright with suspicion.
"Can someone undo my hands?" seemed to be the safest thing for him to say.
******************************
"Okay, start talking," Max spat out at Brandon. "What were you doing here?"
Looking from Max to Zack, and seeing their grim faces, something of the bravado inside the lumberjack was significantly quenched.
His fellow protagonists lay still in a heap on the floor, now conscious, but looking seedy to say the least.
Logan had been untied and after wiping his glasses on his sweatshirt, was glad to have them safely back on.
As Brandon hesitated to reply, Max considered him carefully. "I still haven't decided if you've had enough 'educating'."
Logan, the dog now sitting quietly next to his chair, could see that Max's idea of education had no appeal for the man.
"After those two left the bar," and he nodded towards Zack and Logan, which made Max look in Logan's direction, "these other two guys in the bar came up to us and asked us if we wanted to make an extra bit'a money. Well, it's hard times, a man's gotta make a livin'," he excused himself pathetically.
"Go on," grated Zack.
"He gave us five hundred dollars a piece to get you to leave Morristown and stop bothering about ol' Charlie."
"Why did you leave it so late to show up here?" put in Logan.
"We had some stuff to do first," Brandon muttered.
"That 'stuff' wouldn't have included burning down Charlie's place, would it?" asked Max, her voice dangerously soft.
Brandon looked at her, surprised. His guilt was written on his face for the world to see.
"You're just a real hero, aren't you?" she added with contempt.
Brandon said nothing.
"Give us a name," menaced Zack.
The big man shrugged. "I can't. He gave us the cash and left."
"You've never seen these men before?" asked Logan.
"I've seen 'em around, here and there."
"This is a small town. I find it hard to believe you don't know who they were, or what they were doing in town," replied Logan sceptically.
"Maybe I'd better 'teach' you a bit more," suggested Max, twisting the man's arm behind his back in a sudden move, with enough force to make him cry out in pain.
"Okay, okay, I'll tell ya what I know," yelped Brandon quickly.
"And," prompted Max, easing the pressure, but not letting go.
"I think they were workin' for one of the logging companies, don't know which one. There are a lot a' small outfits up here; they come an' go, you know."
Max looked at Logan. It wasn't much to go on.
Logan shrugged. It didn't appear as if they were going to get any more information from them.
"Let' em go," he stated.
"Just make sure there's no 'next time,'" grated Max, "'cause I might not be feelin' so forgiving."
At her words, the other two men scrambled to their feet, keen to get out of there as quickly as possible. Without a backward glance, all three skulked to the door, and out to wherever they'd hidden their car.
With a look towards Logan, Max got up and left the room, returning a few minutes later with a wet facecloth.
"You okay?" Max asked Logan, taking his chin in one hand and gently dabbing at the cut at the side of his mouth.
"My smile might be a bit crooked for a few days," he said lightly, once she'd finished.
"Here, hold this to it for a few minutes, should help," she said, giving him the cold cloth.
Looking from Max to Logan, Zack said gruffly, "I'll go make sure they've gone."
As Zack went out the front door, Max went over to the fire and stoked it up, putting on some more wood. She stared into the flames thoughtfully.
Logan watched her for a moment, then tossing the cloth onto the lamp table, pushed himself over to the fire.
"Funny how Zack knew Brandon," she suddenly said in a conversational tone.
Logan swallowed. 'Where was she going with this?' he wondered.
"Did he meet Brandon in the bar too?" she pressed.
"He kinda 'ran into Zack' you might say," said Logan evasively.
"When you two were 'keepin' a low profile'?" she finished sweetly.
"Exactly. You know, I've been thinking," said Logan quickly, desperate to change the topic, "Brandon said these logging operations come and go. What better cover for a training camp up here?"
Max looked at him, her eyes saying, "I know exactly what you're up to Logan Cale."
"So," he pressed on, rubbing the back of his head, "I think we should look into that aspect tomorrow."
"You do, do you?" she asked in a voice that, while it sounded innocent enough, told Logan she hadn't been fooled for a minute.
"They've gone," said Zack, coming back in and sitting in one of the armchairs by the fire.
For once, Logan was glad to have him interrupt a conversation he was having with Max.
With a small smile at Logan, Max said to Zack, "Logan thinks they've used a logging camp as a cover for the training camp."
"Makes sense," acknowledged Zack.
"What do we do about it? We can hardly search the area and check out every logging operation. Who knows how many there are?"
"We'd only be interested in the ones that are relatively recent," put in Zack.
Logan sat quietly for a moment, thinking, then looked up, his eyes searching.
"You want this?" asked Max, taking his laptop from behind her.
"There must be a central body in the area. This is the main area for logging in these parts. The way I understand it, companies come in and lease the land from the government," said Logan, booting up his computer as he spoke. "I'll look into it, see what I can find."
*************************************
Nearly two hours later, Logan closed his laptop saying, "That's it," stretching his back muscles out after having been in the same position for so long.
Max sat curled in one of the armchairs, her feet tucked under her, wrapped in a blanket.
Hearing Logan's words, Zack came in from the kitchen where he'd been making coffee, and sat down in the other armchair, interested to hear what Logan had to say. He didn't like to admit it, but the man was a genius when it came to gleaning information.
"There's a Forestry Commissioner here in town, who's responsible for all the logging that goes on in the area. He's been contacted by his Executive Officer that a journalist from Seattle is doing an article on re- forestation, and is to give said journalist all assistance in touring logging sites in the area."
"I take it 'said journalist' is Logan Cale?" asked Max.
"With entourage," added Logan.
"So we check out the most recent ones, and look for evidence of a cover- up," said Zack, apparently not displeased by the idea.
"Well, someone's pretty keen to cover up something: Charlie's death, our friends tonight," Logan leaned forward, rubbing his hands together, "it all seems to point that we're onto something."
Seeing Logan stifle a yawn, Max said to him, "You really should get some sleep."
Logan couldn't help notice that, as yet, Zack showed no inclination to go to bed, but he knew his own body was protesting with the treatment it had received and was probably calling out for a good night's sleep. Well, he couldn't give it that, but a few hours would be better than nothing.
"You got enough blankets in there?" Max called to him as he headed for the bedroom.
"Yep," he called back.
Sometime later, having got himself comfortable in bed, Logan heard a knock on his door.
A little surprised he called out, "Yeah."
"You decent?" came Max's voice.
"I'm in bed. You can come in." Wondering what she wanted, he raised himself on his elbows as she came in with a blanket in her hand.
Almost shyly she said, "You left this blanket out in the kitchen. I was worried you might need it. You want me to put it on?"
Logan shrugged, "After tonight, the more the merrier."
"I must admit to an ulterior motive," Max confessed, as she shook the blanket out and threw it on the bed.
Logan raised his brows questioningly.
"I don't think I could survive another of Zack's meals," she confessed. "So I intend to keep you in one piece so that you can cook that chicken."
"That would be the one you 'stole' from Charlie's," said Logan, a hint of disapproval in his voice.
"Well, it was orphaned. I thought it should go to a good home," was Max's ingenious reply. "Night."
Lying back on his pillows, Logan smiled into the darkness.
.
**************************************
"John Burton?" said Logan, stretching out his hand, "I'm Logan Cale. You should have been advised of my coming."
"Yes, Mr. Cale, I received notification this morning," replied the other man, shaking hands with Logan, and covering his surprise that the journalist was in a wheelchair. "It's always the same, we're always the last to know out here. All the bigwigs in their fancy offices make the decisions, and they've never even been to a logging operation."
John Burton was a disgruntled man, thought Logan, but probably an honest one.
"It's like that with everything nowadays," agreed Logan sympathetically.
"So, you're interested in re-forestation?"
"Well, that and the industry generally. I was hoping to visit a few operations, get a feel for what's involved."
"Between you and me, Mr. Cale, the industry is nothing like it used to be. It's been swamped by 'fly-by-nighters' who are just in it to cut the trees, make their dough, and then they're off before they've done any re- forestation."
"Doesn't the government try to do something about it?" asked Logan, appalled.
"Huh," snorted Burton with disgust. "They just want the cold cash. Half the time someone's paid to look the other way. The forests are being ruined."
Logan listened with interest, thinking this might be something for Eyes Only to look into at a later date. Perhaps John Burton could be recruited to the informant net.
"Aren't there any legitimate operations up here?" asked Logan.
"There are some, the ones that have been in the industry for a long time, and know the importance of re-forestation if they want to have a business in twenty years."
Logan nodded. "Would I be able to look at a list of all logging operations in the area?"
"Sure. It's all here in my records. You'll also see listed, their length of tenure and the acreage of land being logged."
As he spoke, John Burton went to his records. Logan smiled to himself, no wonder he couldn't access any of this information last night - John Burton kept them all on paper, in a filing cabinet. Seeing his look and guessing something of his surprise, Burton explained, "It's hopeless up here, too many brownouts. In the end I reverted back to our old filing system because I kept losing stored information. The computers we had were from the 90's. Hardly up to date," he snorted.
"I have two associates with me," said Logan. "Do you mind if I call them in and we assess which ones would be most suitable for us to visit."
"No problem. You can use the office down the hall there."
**********************************
"What exactly are we lookin' for here?" asked Max, as the three of them perused the records.
"If we assume the camp was just a short term training camp, I'd say we'd be looking for something established within the last three or four months," Logan replied, head down in one of the files.
"I've got one here established eight weeks ago," said Zack immediately.
"And I've got one that's about fourteen weeks old," added Max.
Flipping through his own pile of files, Logan shook his head. "Well, these all seem to be established companies. Been in the area for years."
"Okay, if my theory's correct, that leaves us with these two to look at. I'll call John in."
John Burton was very helpful, but he was quite insistent that they see one of the older established operations to get a good feel for the area.
"One of the best," he enthused, "is Carmichael Logging. Well organized, been in the business for years. I should take you there first so that you can see a genuine operation."
"Sounds like a good idea," agreed Logan easily, for the sake of his cover.
********************************
Charlie's dog had insisted on going with them, looking so doleful when they had tried to leave the cabin earlier without him, that Max insisted Logan stop and let him in.
"You want a smelly dog to travel in the car with us?" asked Logan doubtfully, "and what are we meant to do with it when we finish here?"
"We'll work out somethin', won't we fella," she turned to the dog who was now happily ensconced in the back, next to Logan's chair.
"Bye the way, you can turn the heater on," she added.
Logan turned to her in surprise.
"Zack fixed it while you were still asleep," she explained.
"Thank you, Zack." Logan tried to sound thankful, and to resist the resentment he could feel that Zack, who didn't need heaters, had fixed Logan's because he did need one.
Carmichael's operation was quite a long way out of town, and Logan was a bit annoyed they had to travel so far just to look plausible.
Burton had arranged for the manager to meet them, who would take them on a tour of the site.
Because it was a long way out of town, the workers lived on the main site, traveling to the actual tree felling areas. "The whole site is fully portable," the manager told them. "We re-locate when necessary."
The three of them listened politely as the tour of the base camp was conducted. They were shown surprisingly up to date equipment that wasn't currently being used, workers quarters, one trailer devoted to their environmental studies, office buildings etc, finishing in the dining trailer where they were each given a folder of brochures which explained in detail their re-forestation programme, and a souvenir pen with the company's name printed in gold lettering, 'Carmichael, McFarland and Davis'.
"It's all very impressive," acknowledged Logan, taking a sip of coffee.
Charlie's dog had accompanied them on their tour, and had followed them quietly around the site. Max noticed however, when they walked into the mess trailer, he seemed to become a little agitated. She didn't think much of it at the time, just assumed the dog preferred to be outside.
At that moment, the door to the kitchen opened, the cook coming out with a plate of sandwiches.
In a flash the black dog had darted through the doorway.
Max jumped up to follow it, when to her surprise, it came out again, and walking straight up to Logan, deposited a pair of steel-framed glasses in his lap.
Logan looked at Max for a second, then quickly took the glasses and put them in his pocket before the manager, who was temporarily talking to another man, turned around.
Finishing their coffee and sandwiches, they thanked the manager for their tour, and headed for the car. The dog followed close behind.
Logan directed a look at Max.
Casually she came behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders as if to help him over the rough ground. Putting her face close to his she made a comment about the size of the logging trucks.
Under his breath he said to her, "I predict you're gonna sprain your ankle."
Letting go of his chair, she turned around to see where the dog was. He turned out to be immediately behind her. Quite suddenly, she did a spectacular flip over the dog, landing heavily on her ankle, and crying out in pain.
Logan spun around in time to see Zack and John Burton rush to her aid.
"Are you okay?" asked the latter with concern when he saw Max's beautiful face twisted in pain.
"Let me look at it Max," said Zack, kneeling down beside her, and gently twisting her foot.
"Ow," she cried out in pain. "Do you think it's broken?" she asked pathetically, which made Logan duck his head to hide the smile on his lips.
"Is there a doctor in town?" asked Zack.
John Burton looked at Logan. "There is a doctor in Morristown. You'd best take her in there to see him."
"I'm sorry about this, John, it looks like we won't be able to get out to those other two sites today, and I'm not sure how long I can stay in the area. I'll have to be in touch with you."
Burton nodded understandingly. To Zack he said, "Would you like me to help you get her to the car?"
"No, it's fine thank you," answered Zack, lifting Max in his arms effortlessly, who whimpered beautifully for the effect.
Not sure he was entirely happy about this development, Logan pushed on to the car, while Zack waited, with Max still in his arms, for him to unlock the door. "You can put her down now Zack, nobody's watching," he suggested purposefully.
"Can't be too careful when you're on an undercover op like this," replied Zack, sensing Logan's discomfort and not quite willing to relinquish her yet.
In a show of X5 strength, he slipped one hand out from under her legs, taking her entire weight on one arm, opened the door, then slid her in to her seat.
Max gave him a look that looked remarkably like 'smart ass', and put her seat belt on, leaving Zack to stow the wheelchair and make sure the dog was in.
"Do I get my 'Oscar' now?" she smiled at Logan.
"I think Zack was goin' for an award too," muttered Logan, turning the key.
Max looked at him, considering his profile with her sassy smile, but was unable to say more as Zack got in.
Changing the subject (with some reluctance), Max said, "Well I guess you're glad we brought Charlie's dog along after all."
"Yep," agreed Logan, pulling out. "Looks like we found where Charlie worked, now to find some evidence of his 'vigilante training camp'."
TBC
My thanks as usual to my very patient Beta, Alaidh!!
A/N: Neither the author or her beta know a great deal about logging camps, so please take note that this is all a product of the author's imagination!! Other than that, please read and enjoy!!!
Chapter 8.
Left to himself, Logan moodily tossed another log on the fire, watching the flames sizzle slightly as the moisture in the log was evaporated.
He didn't know how long he sat mesmerized by the flames, but eventually he looked around, and seeing the remains of their S'mores, gathered them up and took them out to the kitchen, with the intention of making himself a hot drink.
Away from the fire, it was noticeable how cold the rest of the house was. "Next time I come up here in summer," he muttered, as he lit the gas to boil the elderly kettle they were supplied with.
Looking in the fridge, he found Max's prized chicken. Half-smiling he realized she must have killed one of the chickens from Charlie's place, and wondered how he'd feel about cooking and eating stolen goods. Something of his mind's earlier confusion came back to him, but he couldn't remember why it was important to him that Max had snapped the chicken's neck.
He had just put the milk down on the table when he thought he heard a sound outside. The worst of the storm seemed to have passed, and the wild gale had been subdued to fresh winds.
He paused, listening, but the sound wasn't repeated.
Having made his coffee, he pulled off the blanket that was still wrapped around his legs, and carefully wedging the hot drink between them, knowing Bling would have a fit if he saw him, he wheeled back to the fire, quickly putting the hot drink down on a small table nearby.
He wondered how Max and Zack were doing, thinking to himself with a wry smile that Zack would be a lot more relaxed being alone with Max. Unexpectedly, he heard the sound again.
Startled, this time sure he heard a noise from behind the kitchen door, he tensed, not quite sure what to do. He carried his gun with him, but that was in his bag in the bedroom.
With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he couldn't help thinking he didn't want to go through the evening's events at Cape Haven again. He was still coming to terms with the images of the four men he had killed.
The shattering of glass in the backdoor resolved the issue.
It was too late to do anything.
**********************************
Max and Zack turned into the road where the cabin was.
"We'll park the car away from the house, just in case," Zack said, quickly glancing at Max's profile.
Her face was expressionless. Her eyes intent on the road as she skidded to a quick halt, far enough away from the cabin where their lights wouldn't be seen.
"We're probably just jumping to conclusions," Zack added.
"Yeah, right," was Max's grim reply, the gnawing in her stomach not relieved.
They both opened their doors, and as they did so, the big black dog in the back that had sat quietly throughout the short trip back, saw a chance for freedom and scrambled over the back seat to jump out Zack's door.
"Don't make a sound!" Max growled at it, the dog becoming more subdued immediately.
Without a noise, their black clothing swallowed up in the moonless night, they made their way to the cabin.
All looked as they had left it, there was no sign of another car, just the same few lights burning in the windows.
Zack signaled to Max, and they split up, Zack to the back door, Max to the front door, which opened onto the living room.
Holding her breath, she slowly opened the door, willing it not to creak.
The words she heard made her eyes narrow, her mouth in a straight line.
"My Mamma always told me I shouldn't hit a man with glasses, but she didn't say anything about wheelchairs."
The sound of flesh hitting flesh followed his words.
"It looks like I'm just gonna have to fill in the gaps of your education for you," a voice said from the doorway.
He should have been afraid, but all he saw was a young woman, a very beautiful young woman.
In that instant, Zack exploded from the kitchen, which was Max's signal.
Logan, still in his wheelchair, his hands tied behind his back, and a trickle of blood at the side of his mouth, watched as Max and Zack flew into action.
The whole affair was a bit blurred as the man who had hit him, true to his upbringing, had very thoughtfully put Logan's glasses down on a small lamp table.
With consternation, Logan could just make out his glasses being knocked to the floor, as the man Zack fought fell against the table. The next instant they were kicked by the second man who came at Zack, to land under Max's feet.
Logan hadn't brought a spare pair with him, and he grimaced in readiness, expecting her foot to crunch down on them any minute. Breathing a sigh of relief, squinting slightly he saw them knocked by Max's foot tantalizingly close to his own feet. 'If only I had my hands free,' he thought, as Zack threw another figure into his range of vision.
With a sinking feeling, Logan saw the big man stepping backwards, one large foot poised inches from his glasses, one large foot about to relentlessly smash them into pieces.
Hardly able to take in what happened next, a black shape came bounding over, and stopped immediately behind the man. The assailant, his legs now caught on the shape behind him, felt himself toppling backwards towards Logan, who with his hands behind his back, could do nothing to save himself.
Seeing Logan's predicament at the same moment, Zack and Max, with their incredible reflexes, both reached forward to grab the man by an arm on either side, and by throwing their own weight slightly forward were able to steady him and prevent him from crashing into Logan.
Breathing out and letting his tensed muscles relax, Logan was amazed to have his glasses deposited in his lap by Charlie's very happy, tail- wagging, big, black dog.
Of the three intruders, two lay unconscious on the ground, and the man who had hit Logan now stared into the startled faces of the two X5's.
"You!" both Max and Zack said at the same moment, then looked at each other in surprise.
The man they held was Brandon.
Logan cringed. This was gonna take some explaining.
In unison, Zack and Max looked at Logan, their faces bright with suspicion.
"Can someone undo my hands?" seemed to be the safest thing for him to say.
******************************
"Okay, start talking," Max spat out at Brandon. "What were you doing here?"
Looking from Max to Zack, and seeing their grim faces, something of the bravado inside the lumberjack was significantly quenched.
His fellow protagonists lay still in a heap on the floor, now conscious, but looking seedy to say the least.
Logan had been untied and after wiping his glasses on his sweatshirt, was glad to have them safely back on.
As Brandon hesitated to reply, Max considered him carefully. "I still haven't decided if you've had enough 'educating'."
Logan, the dog now sitting quietly next to his chair, could see that Max's idea of education had no appeal for the man.
"After those two left the bar," and he nodded towards Zack and Logan, which made Max look in Logan's direction, "these other two guys in the bar came up to us and asked us if we wanted to make an extra bit'a money. Well, it's hard times, a man's gotta make a livin'," he excused himself pathetically.
"Go on," grated Zack.
"He gave us five hundred dollars a piece to get you to leave Morristown and stop bothering about ol' Charlie."
"Why did you leave it so late to show up here?" put in Logan.
"We had some stuff to do first," Brandon muttered.
"That 'stuff' wouldn't have included burning down Charlie's place, would it?" asked Max, her voice dangerously soft.
Brandon looked at her, surprised. His guilt was written on his face for the world to see.
"You're just a real hero, aren't you?" she added with contempt.
Brandon said nothing.
"Give us a name," menaced Zack.
The big man shrugged. "I can't. He gave us the cash and left."
"You've never seen these men before?" asked Logan.
"I've seen 'em around, here and there."
"This is a small town. I find it hard to believe you don't know who they were, or what they were doing in town," replied Logan sceptically.
"Maybe I'd better 'teach' you a bit more," suggested Max, twisting the man's arm behind his back in a sudden move, with enough force to make him cry out in pain.
"Okay, okay, I'll tell ya what I know," yelped Brandon quickly.
"And," prompted Max, easing the pressure, but not letting go.
"I think they were workin' for one of the logging companies, don't know which one. There are a lot a' small outfits up here; they come an' go, you know."
Max looked at Logan. It wasn't much to go on.
Logan shrugged. It didn't appear as if they were going to get any more information from them.
"Let' em go," he stated.
"Just make sure there's no 'next time,'" grated Max, "'cause I might not be feelin' so forgiving."
At her words, the other two men scrambled to their feet, keen to get out of there as quickly as possible. Without a backward glance, all three skulked to the door, and out to wherever they'd hidden their car.
With a look towards Logan, Max got up and left the room, returning a few minutes later with a wet facecloth.
"You okay?" Max asked Logan, taking his chin in one hand and gently dabbing at the cut at the side of his mouth.
"My smile might be a bit crooked for a few days," he said lightly, once she'd finished.
"Here, hold this to it for a few minutes, should help," she said, giving him the cold cloth.
Looking from Max to Logan, Zack said gruffly, "I'll go make sure they've gone."
As Zack went out the front door, Max went over to the fire and stoked it up, putting on some more wood. She stared into the flames thoughtfully.
Logan watched her for a moment, then tossing the cloth onto the lamp table, pushed himself over to the fire.
"Funny how Zack knew Brandon," she suddenly said in a conversational tone.
Logan swallowed. 'Where was she going with this?' he wondered.
"Did he meet Brandon in the bar too?" she pressed.
"He kinda 'ran into Zack' you might say," said Logan evasively.
"When you two were 'keepin' a low profile'?" she finished sweetly.
"Exactly. You know, I've been thinking," said Logan quickly, desperate to change the topic, "Brandon said these logging operations come and go. What better cover for a training camp up here?"
Max looked at him, her eyes saying, "I know exactly what you're up to Logan Cale."
"So," he pressed on, rubbing the back of his head, "I think we should look into that aspect tomorrow."
"You do, do you?" she asked in a voice that, while it sounded innocent enough, told Logan she hadn't been fooled for a minute.
"They've gone," said Zack, coming back in and sitting in one of the armchairs by the fire.
For once, Logan was glad to have him interrupt a conversation he was having with Max.
With a small smile at Logan, Max said to Zack, "Logan thinks they've used a logging camp as a cover for the training camp."
"Makes sense," acknowledged Zack.
"What do we do about it? We can hardly search the area and check out every logging operation. Who knows how many there are?"
"We'd only be interested in the ones that are relatively recent," put in Zack.
Logan sat quietly for a moment, thinking, then looked up, his eyes searching.
"You want this?" asked Max, taking his laptop from behind her.
"There must be a central body in the area. This is the main area for logging in these parts. The way I understand it, companies come in and lease the land from the government," said Logan, booting up his computer as he spoke. "I'll look into it, see what I can find."
*************************************
Nearly two hours later, Logan closed his laptop saying, "That's it," stretching his back muscles out after having been in the same position for so long.
Max sat curled in one of the armchairs, her feet tucked under her, wrapped in a blanket.
Hearing Logan's words, Zack came in from the kitchen where he'd been making coffee, and sat down in the other armchair, interested to hear what Logan had to say. He didn't like to admit it, but the man was a genius when it came to gleaning information.
"There's a Forestry Commissioner here in town, who's responsible for all the logging that goes on in the area. He's been contacted by his Executive Officer that a journalist from Seattle is doing an article on re- forestation, and is to give said journalist all assistance in touring logging sites in the area."
"I take it 'said journalist' is Logan Cale?" asked Max.
"With entourage," added Logan.
"So we check out the most recent ones, and look for evidence of a cover- up," said Zack, apparently not displeased by the idea.
"Well, someone's pretty keen to cover up something: Charlie's death, our friends tonight," Logan leaned forward, rubbing his hands together, "it all seems to point that we're onto something."
Seeing Logan stifle a yawn, Max said to him, "You really should get some sleep."
Logan couldn't help notice that, as yet, Zack showed no inclination to go to bed, but he knew his own body was protesting with the treatment it had received and was probably calling out for a good night's sleep. Well, he couldn't give it that, but a few hours would be better than nothing.
"You got enough blankets in there?" Max called to him as he headed for the bedroom.
"Yep," he called back.
Sometime later, having got himself comfortable in bed, Logan heard a knock on his door.
A little surprised he called out, "Yeah."
"You decent?" came Max's voice.
"I'm in bed. You can come in." Wondering what she wanted, he raised himself on his elbows as she came in with a blanket in her hand.
Almost shyly she said, "You left this blanket out in the kitchen. I was worried you might need it. You want me to put it on?"
Logan shrugged, "After tonight, the more the merrier."
"I must admit to an ulterior motive," Max confessed, as she shook the blanket out and threw it on the bed.
Logan raised his brows questioningly.
"I don't think I could survive another of Zack's meals," she confessed. "So I intend to keep you in one piece so that you can cook that chicken."
"That would be the one you 'stole' from Charlie's," said Logan, a hint of disapproval in his voice.
"Well, it was orphaned. I thought it should go to a good home," was Max's ingenious reply. "Night."
Lying back on his pillows, Logan smiled into the darkness.
.
**************************************
"John Burton?" said Logan, stretching out his hand, "I'm Logan Cale. You should have been advised of my coming."
"Yes, Mr. Cale, I received notification this morning," replied the other man, shaking hands with Logan, and covering his surprise that the journalist was in a wheelchair. "It's always the same, we're always the last to know out here. All the bigwigs in their fancy offices make the decisions, and they've never even been to a logging operation."
John Burton was a disgruntled man, thought Logan, but probably an honest one.
"It's like that with everything nowadays," agreed Logan sympathetically.
"So, you're interested in re-forestation?"
"Well, that and the industry generally. I was hoping to visit a few operations, get a feel for what's involved."
"Between you and me, Mr. Cale, the industry is nothing like it used to be. It's been swamped by 'fly-by-nighters' who are just in it to cut the trees, make their dough, and then they're off before they've done any re- forestation."
"Doesn't the government try to do something about it?" asked Logan, appalled.
"Huh," snorted Burton with disgust. "They just want the cold cash. Half the time someone's paid to look the other way. The forests are being ruined."
Logan listened with interest, thinking this might be something for Eyes Only to look into at a later date. Perhaps John Burton could be recruited to the informant net.
"Aren't there any legitimate operations up here?" asked Logan.
"There are some, the ones that have been in the industry for a long time, and know the importance of re-forestation if they want to have a business in twenty years."
Logan nodded. "Would I be able to look at a list of all logging operations in the area?"
"Sure. It's all here in my records. You'll also see listed, their length of tenure and the acreage of land being logged."
As he spoke, John Burton went to his records. Logan smiled to himself, no wonder he couldn't access any of this information last night - John Burton kept them all on paper, in a filing cabinet. Seeing his look and guessing something of his surprise, Burton explained, "It's hopeless up here, too many brownouts. In the end I reverted back to our old filing system because I kept losing stored information. The computers we had were from the 90's. Hardly up to date," he snorted.
"I have two associates with me," said Logan. "Do you mind if I call them in and we assess which ones would be most suitable for us to visit."
"No problem. You can use the office down the hall there."
**********************************
"What exactly are we lookin' for here?" asked Max, as the three of them perused the records.
"If we assume the camp was just a short term training camp, I'd say we'd be looking for something established within the last three or four months," Logan replied, head down in one of the files.
"I've got one here established eight weeks ago," said Zack immediately.
"And I've got one that's about fourteen weeks old," added Max.
Flipping through his own pile of files, Logan shook his head. "Well, these all seem to be established companies. Been in the area for years."
"Okay, if my theory's correct, that leaves us with these two to look at. I'll call John in."
John Burton was very helpful, but he was quite insistent that they see one of the older established operations to get a good feel for the area.
"One of the best," he enthused, "is Carmichael Logging. Well organized, been in the business for years. I should take you there first so that you can see a genuine operation."
"Sounds like a good idea," agreed Logan easily, for the sake of his cover.
********************************
Charlie's dog had insisted on going with them, looking so doleful when they had tried to leave the cabin earlier without him, that Max insisted Logan stop and let him in.
"You want a smelly dog to travel in the car with us?" asked Logan doubtfully, "and what are we meant to do with it when we finish here?"
"We'll work out somethin', won't we fella," she turned to the dog who was now happily ensconced in the back, next to Logan's chair.
"Bye the way, you can turn the heater on," she added.
Logan turned to her in surprise.
"Zack fixed it while you were still asleep," she explained.
"Thank you, Zack." Logan tried to sound thankful, and to resist the resentment he could feel that Zack, who didn't need heaters, had fixed Logan's because he did need one.
Carmichael's operation was quite a long way out of town, and Logan was a bit annoyed they had to travel so far just to look plausible.
Burton had arranged for the manager to meet them, who would take them on a tour of the site.
Because it was a long way out of town, the workers lived on the main site, traveling to the actual tree felling areas. "The whole site is fully portable," the manager told them. "We re-locate when necessary."
The three of them listened politely as the tour of the base camp was conducted. They were shown surprisingly up to date equipment that wasn't currently being used, workers quarters, one trailer devoted to their environmental studies, office buildings etc, finishing in the dining trailer where they were each given a folder of brochures which explained in detail their re-forestation programme, and a souvenir pen with the company's name printed in gold lettering, 'Carmichael, McFarland and Davis'.
"It's all very impressive," acknowledged Logan, taking a sip of coffee.
Charlie's dog had accompanied them on their tour, and had followed them quietly around the site. Max noticed however, when they walked into the mess trailer, he seemed to become a little agitated. She didn't think much of it at the time, just assumed the dog preferred to be outside.
At that moment, the door to the kitchen opened, the cook coming out with a plate of sandwiches.
In a flash the black dog had darted through the doorway.
Max jumped up to follow it, when to her surprise, it came out again, and walking straight up to Logan, deposited a pair of steel-framed glasses in his lap.
Logan looked at Max for a second, then quickly took the glasses and put them in his pocket before the manager, who was temporarily talking to another man, turned around.
Finishing their coffee and sandwiches, they thanked the manager for their tour, and headed for the car. The dog followed close behind.
Logan directed a look at Max.
Casually she came behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders as if to help him over the rough ground. Putting her face close to his she made a comment about the size of the logging trucks.
Under his breath he said to her, "I predict you're gonna sprain your ankle."
Letting go of his chair, she turned around to see where the dog was. He turned out to be immediately behind her. Quite suddenly, she did a spectacular flip over the dog, landing heavily on her ankle, and crying out in pain.
Logan spun around in time to see Zack and John Burton rush to her aid.
"Are you okay?" asked the latter with concern when he saw Max's beautiful face twisted in pain.
"Let me look at it Max," said Zack, kneeling down beside her, and gently twisting her foot.
"Ow," she cried out in pain. "Do you think it's broken?" she asked pathetically, which made Logan duck his head to hide the smile on his lips.
"Is there a doctor in town?" asked Zack.
John Burton looked at Logan. "There is a doctor in Morristown. You'd best take her in there to see him."
"I'm sorry about this, John, it looks like we won't be able to get out to those other two sites today, and I'm not sure how long I can stay in the area. I'll have to be in touch with you."
Burton nodded understandingly. To Zack he said, "Would you like me to help you get her to the car?"
"No, it's fine thank you," answered Zack, lifting Max in his arms effortlessly, who whimpered beautifully for the effect.
Not sure he was entirely happy about this development, Logan pushed on to the car, while Zack waited, with Max still in his arms, for him to unlock the door. "You can put her down now Zack, nobody's watching," he suggested purposefully.
"Can't be too careful when you're on an undercover op like this," replied Zack, sensing Logan's discomfort and not quite willing to relinquish her yet.
In a show of X5 strength, he slipped one hand out from under her legs, taking her entire weight on one arm, opened the door, then slid her in to her seat.
Max gave him a look that looked remarkably like 'smart ass', and put her seat belt on, leaving Zack to stow the wheelchair and make sure the dog was in.
"Do I get my 'Oscar' now?" she smiled at Logan.
"I think Zack was goin' for an award too," muttered Logan, turning the key.
Max looked at him, considering his profile with her sassy smile, but was unable to say more as Zack got in.
Changing the subject (with some reluctance), Max said, "Well I guess you're glad we brought Charlie's dog along after all."
"Yep," agreed Logan, pulling out. "Looks like we found where Charlie worked, now to find some evidence of his 'vigilante training camp'."
TBC