Thanks again to all the reviewers!!! Very much appreciated as always!!!
Special thanks to Alaidh!!
Chapter 15
"You're right. Things just got worse," Logan agreed matter-of -factly.
"I can't be entirely sure, but the old lady out in front of Melody's building thought I was the same person who'd visited Melody earlier," Max said.
She added dully, "A girl wearing a black catsuit visits Melody, I find Melody with her neck snapped and someone's tryin' very hard to make life difficult for Eyes Only. It all adds up, Logan, and I don't like the numbers."
Logan thoughtfully bit his bottom lip. He had to admit, it all added up, and he didn't like the numbers, either.
Speaking carefully, he said, "What are the chances of Melody talking before she died?"
Max spoke quickly. "I can't be sure," she admitted, "but the usual procedure would be to get in and out as quickly as possible, with a minimum amount of personal contact."
"But you can't be sure," reiterated Logan, a touch dryly.
"No," she admitted, then added, "I knew there'd be trouble when you did that Eyes Only broadcast for us after I helped Zack get away from Manticore. I shouldn't have let you." Max's brown eyes were swimming with worry. It was bad enough that Manticore was after her, but she would have done anything to keep him out of their clutches.
Logan's mind was processing the facts quickly.
Thinking out loud, he said, "If Manticore killed Melody, it points to them being the ones behind the Eyes Only dirt. The question is, did they manufacture the situation, or are they taking advantage of the situation to discredit Eyes Only?"
"We have no way of knowing that," put in Max, in the same worried tone.
"Well, it makes sense. Eyes Only pissed them off by doing the cable hack; this is their way of getting back at him. What better way than to discredit the Informant Net, effectively putting Eyes Only out of business because nobody believes a word he says?"
He smiled cynically for a moment. "It's clever. I'm surprised no one thought of it sooner."
"Well, before you start giving out prizes, what are we gonna do about this?"
Logan thought for a minute, the whining of the wipers sounding unnaturally loud.
Finally he said, "If the Manticore angle was purely about throwing mud, then they probably figured they'd done their damage, and it was time to cover up the loose ends."
"Namely, Melody," put in Max.
"Yeah, Melody," echoed Logan softly.
Max looked at him quickly. She thought she'd detected a note of pain in his voice.
"Back at the apartment, you heard?" was all she could bring herself to ask him.
"She was under a lot of pressure," Logan said, his eyes staring out the front windshield, for the moment unseeingly. "I can't all together blame her."
Max turned away. Blaming Melody was exactly what she wanted to do. She wondered how Logan could be so forgiving.
Perhaps sensing her thoughts, Logan said, "I think she always felt kinda second best ... probably saw this as her big opportunity."
"And sell out a friend?" Max flew back at him.
Logan didn't have an answer to that one.
All Logan could think of were Melody's words to him at the safe house. "She told me not to judge her by my standards," he told Max quietly.
Max gave him a small smile. "I just want you to be able to sleep without worrying about someone breaking down your door in the middle of the night."
"I'll be able to sleep when I've found who's planting these bombs and executing any resident bad guys," Logan replied seriously.
************************************************
"Did Melody talk?"
It was the question burning in Max's mind as she numbly helped Logan put the groceries away that they'd left on his counter in their rush to get out.
Common sense told her you don't pass the time of day with your 'hit'. You get in and get out.
Both for Melody's sake and Logan's continued safety, she hoped that Melody barely knew what was happening.
In her mind she could imagine Melody opening the door, never suspecting the attractive girl in black, who was probably waiting for her to show up at her apartment.
The deed was most likely performed as soon as they were in the door.
It's hard to talk when someone's snapping your neck, thought Max dryly.
Her eyes went to Logan, putting away the last of the groceries.
If only she could be sure.
"You want some dinner?" he asked, breaking into her thoughts.
"I'm not that hungry," she admitted.
"Know the feeling," he agreed, unlocking his brakes and heading through to his computer.
"Watcha gonna do?" asked Max, following him.
"Firstly, I'd better call Matt, fill him in on what happened in Morristown. If I arrange a meet with him, will you go and drop him the gun we took off that heavy? I still want it checked for prints."
He saw her momentary hesitation, and swung back around to his screen, snapping on the brakes of his chair, his hands going to the keys.
"I need to get the lowdown on MacFarland and look into the 'Seattle Businessmen's' League'."
Without taking his eyes from the screen, he said, "Max. There's nothing to point to Melody exposing me before she died."
"We can't be sure," she said quietly, watching him as she leant against the paneling that divided the area.
"I got too much to do to think about that," he stated tersely. "Will you do it for me, or not?"
He made it sound more like an ultimatum.
"Arrange the meet. I'll do it." Max snapped, not sounding happy.
"Good, then I can concentrate on this stuff," answered Logan, reaching forward for his phone.
Wondering sometimes how she let him talk her into things she didn't want to do, Max headed into the kitchen to make a hot drink while Logan was on the phone with Matt.
Logan was just finishing off his conversation with Matt when Max returned with two mugs of coffee.
"How'd it go?" she asked Logan, setting his drink down for him.
"I told him about Charlie, and our theory on the logging camp. He'll meet with you in twenty minutes at the corner of South 15th and Pacific Avenue."
"Did you tell him about Melody?"
He sighed at that. "I had to tell him. I figured it would be safer if he were heading up that investigation. Naturally, I couldn't tell him about Manticore or that Melody had guessed Eyes Only's identity."
"Hope we did the right thing by leaving that album behind," said Max, sitting in his computer chair, the mug of coffee in her hand.
"Assassins aren't in the habit of stealing family snapshots. It would have posed too many questions if it disappeared and one of her close friends wondered where it had gone. I told Matt I knew her. It seemed the safest route."
Pulling out the drawer to his desk, he took out the gun, now wrapped in an old shirt, that Max was to take to Matt Sung.
"Here you go."
Max looked at it for a moment.
"I promise you I wont let anyone snap my neck ... at least 'til you get back," he added considerately.
"Very funny," she retorted.
************************************************
"Logan," called Max, striding into his apartment, some time later.
"Here," he called from the kitchen.
She looked at him in surprise. "Thought you weren't hungry."
"Well, I have a friend who's a transgenic killing machine, and she's been known to get real cranky if she's not fed."
"I need to keep up my strength to save your ass," Max replied glibly, taking the plate of food Logan handed her and heading through to the dining table that he'd already set.
"You seem a bit happier," she commented, as he brought his own plate to the table.
"I've found out a few interesting facts about Uncle Jonas's good friend."
Max raised her eyebrows.
"Turns out he's quite the businessman, with fingers in everything from logging to pharmaceuticals. He was halfway through a medical degree when he changed streams and became an industrial chemist, building up a small, but highly profitable business under the name of Byron/ Phillip chemicals, which happens to be the name of his two sons."
"Sounds like your regular, devoted family man," commented Max.
"Looks like he used the money he made off that as a springboard for a whole lot of other investments that were even more profitable. To put it bluntly, the man's worth a mint."
"Sounds right down Jonas's alley."
"Mmm," agreed Logan, pouring them each some wine, before continuing. "Here's the interesting part - his wife was killed two years ago. It looks like she got caught in the crossfire of some gang war. They were really bad a few years back."
"Enough to send MacFarland into some sorta tailspin?"
"It's possible."
"What about this 'Businessmen's League' thingy?"
"Ah, the 'Seattle Businessmen's League'. Another interesting story."
"No wonder you're in such a good mood," remarked Max.
He gave her one of his quick grins. "Guess I got lucky while you were gone."
"We certainly needed some of that," Max said, "The sooner this is cleared up, the better."
"The League was formed eighteen months ago, headed by MacFarland himself, and included a number of influential 'businessmen', needless to say."
Max waited for the punch line, knowing it was coming by the look in his eye.
"I did a bit of 'research' into their files, and I found a very interesting name tucked away on their books: Theodore Durant, alias Buddy Franklin, a particularly extreme right-wing idealist, suspected, but never proven, to be involved in some high profile, highly suspect, activities."
"You 'have' been doing your homework," admired Max.
"The next thing I have to do is find a list of possible places where they've got their trained vigilantes holed up."
"How does Manticore fit into all this?"
"I can't be sure of that," Logan admitted.
"Still, it's a start," she couldn't help smiling at him.
"Yeah."
**********************************************
Logan spent the rest of the evening, and well into the morning, continuing his research into MacFarland, and "The Seattle Businessmen's League,' but without the success of his initial research, and eventually, with considerable frustration, he gave up.
The next morning, he was woken by a phone call from Bennett, very upset with the news of Melody's death.
Marianne had been crying all morning since she'd heard. To think they'd all only seen her the night before. Some woman in black was a suspect. Poor Melody, all she wanted to do was find the right man and have kids.
Logan, of course, had to act shocked and surprised and saddened, and by the time he got off the phone he'd had more than enough.
He hadn't considered yesterday what he would say to Bennett and Marianne, and suddenly faced with it, all he felt was guilt.
He didn't know if he felt bad about lying to Bennett or if he felt bad about having to lie about Melody, and the person she had become.
"Well, no one came to strangle you in your bed while you were asleep," said Max brightly to him as he came into the kitchen, genuinely very glad about the fact, and feeling more and more sure that Melody had died with her secret untold. Well, that was one thing she'd be thankful to the reporter for.
"Great," was the surly reply.
"Did you get out of bed on the wrong side or something?" she asked him.
"Had a call from Bennett," was all he would answer, in a tone that said he didn't want to talk about it, as he made coffee.
"Oh," commented Max, thinking it would be wiser to say nothing.
At that moment, Bling came in. "Morning people," he greeted them both in a slightly subdued manner.
Turning to Logan, he said quietly, "I suppose you know ..."
"Yep, I know about Melody," Logan interrupted him shortly.
"I'm sorry," said Bling, his eyes going to Max.
"I don't wanna talk about it," Logan stated with finality, as a general comment to both of them, pushing himself into his study.
Max followed a few minutes later to find him staring at his computer screen.
"You forgot to turn it on again," she murmured, putting his coffee on the desk for him. "You forgot your coffee, too."
"Thought you'd be on your way to work by now," he remarked, ignoring both of her comments.
"I figure they can survive without me for another day."
"Whatever," he commented, in a tone that said he didn't care if she was there or not
Regarding his computer as if it were personally responsible for every wrong in his life, he didn't boot it up, but wheeled out to find Bling instead.
"We'll do my reps now, if you're ready," he told his trainer.
"Sure," replied Bling, recognizing the 'I'm pissed off with the world,' tone. Despite knowing what he was in for, he added calmly, "I'll go and set up."
Working through the reps, Logan tried to concentrate, but the truth was, all he could see was that day they'd been sailing on his Uncle's yacht.
The memories, long repressed by unhappy ones, came flooding back. He'd only known Val a short while that day, and already he'd been totally captivated by her. It was the day they'd first kissed, tentatively at first, then long and passionately, only to break apart, slightly embarrassed, when Melody unexpectedly came up on deck. They'd all laughed about it later as the yacht returned to shore, the glowing sun by then, a burnt, orange smudge on the horizon.
Logan looked at the weights with dislike as Bling got them out and put them on the exercise table.
Bling, interpreting his expression correctly, was considering whether to let it pass or not, when Max came in, the phone in her hand.
"Stuart MacFarland," she mouthed at him.
Using one hand to steady himself on the table, he took the phone, shooting a look at Max as he said, "Hello."
Stuart MacFarland, at the other end, spoke with easy familiarity, "Logan, we spoke the other night at the housewarming."
"That's right," replied Logan reservedly.
"Your name has come across my desk. I hear you're doing an article on re- forestation."
"It's an area I'm researching," agreed Logan.
"Excellent. Our timber industry always needs some unbiased reporting and I hear that you have a very good reputation for upholding those ideals."
"I try," responded Logan coolly, wondering where he was going with this.
"Wonderful, wonderful. As one of the owners of Carmichael Logging, I'm holding an informal, well let's call it an 'information evening', about the timber industry. We've been getting quite a bit of bad publicity, largely due to all the 'fly-by-nighters', and we're doing our best to educate the community on the best way of preserving our forests."
"Sounds interesting," said Logan briefly.
"I'd be pleased if you could attend. I think you'd find it beneficial to your story," urged MacFarland.
"Where are you holding this event?" asked Logan of MacFarland, then mouthing the word, 'pen', to Max.
"It will be at my estate, 402 Oceanview Terrace."
Logan repeated the address so that Max could write it down.
"Excellent," said the older man, and for the moment, Logan could imagine him rubbing his hands with glee, "I'll be expecting you then. Anytime after eight."
Logan looked at Max as MacFarland hung up, putting the phone down next to him on the table.
"What was that all about?" asked Max.
"I've been invited to an 'Information night' about the forestry industry."
She made a face. "I take it we're going?"
"Well, 'I'm' going."
"You wouldn't leave your 'research assistant' behind?"
"No, I've got some 'researching' in mind for you."
***************************************************
The phone call seemed to put Logan in a slightly better mood, and he managed to get through the rest of his reps without incurring a disapproving look from Bling.
After a shower, he was back at his computer, once more hacking into Carmichael Logging and Byron/Phillip Pharmaceuticals, trying to find possible sites where the vigilante team may be holed up while in Seattle.
All day the news reported the 'tragic death' of reporter, Melody Banks, announcing that a young woman in a black catsuit was required for questioning in regard to the incident.
Max was ready to throw the TV through the window when she heard the news presenter announce the possible theory that Eyes Only had killed Melody in order to silence her.
"I'm gonna do some frickin' 'silencing'," she fumed, turning it off with a very deliberate push on the remote button. Where was this going to end?
Logan made no comment when the report was run, other than, "It figures."
Max thought that was a bad sign.
She watched him throughout the afternoon as he chased the information he was after, intently studying the screen hour after hour, his fingers flying over the keys, a frown rarely absent from his face.
Bling had left long ago, and now Max sat by the large windows as the evening crept in, steadily darkening the apartment.
She had just heated up some left over dinner for them from the night before, when Logan came out, a sheet of paper on his knee.
"This is all I can find," he announced to her.
"You found some sites?"
"Well, possible sites," he replied. "I was hoping you'd be able to check 'em out after the meeting at MacFarland's.
"Sounds good. I 'made' us dinner."
"Impressive. It's amazing what you can do with a microwave."
Max smiled as she carried their dinner through to the table. His black mood seemed to have lifted.
"You got any scheme for tonight at MacFarland's?" she asked him a short time later, between mouthfuls of dinner.
"I think I'm goin' for the 'approach the lion in his den scheme'," he replied.
"In other words, you don't have a scheme," she stated flatly.
"I wouldn't quite say that. I'm hoping you'll get a chance to do some snooping."
"What will you be doing?"
"I'll be learning everything I can about re-forestation, of course."
**************************************************
Stuart MacFarland's house was nothing short of magnificent, from the white Corinthian columns, to the black and white marble tiled entrance, complete with an enormous chandelier that faced the curved divided staircase.
With a sideways glance at Logan, Max murmured, "This might even be out of your league."
At the door, they were met by MacFarland himself, who appeared to be a most attentive, urbane host. He was a handsome man, with hazel eyes, and a very distinguished head of silvery hair.
"Logan, I'm so glad you could make it. I'm sure you'll find this a most informative evening."
"I'm sure I will," replied Logan easily. "Have you met my ... assistant," he said after a slight pause.
Max held out her hand, introducing herself simply as "Max."
"I'm charmed, my dear, charmed. If I had an assistant like you, I don't think I'd get 'any' work done."
"How sweet of you," smiled Max, playing her part.
"Come now, you must meet my sons," continued MacFarland, as if nothing could possibly give him greater pleasure, leading them through to another of the sumptuous rooms on the ground floor.
There were a lot of people at the event, but because the rooms were so large, it was anything but congested.
Logan let Max and MacFarland go before him, then followed them into the other room where he found a comprehensive rundown of the logging industry mounted on boards around the room.
"Byron, Phillip," he suddenly called to two young men who had been speaking to two attractive girls at the other end of the room. By the look of them, Logan couldn't imagine they were there to learn about re-forestation.
"My sons," said MacFarland proudly, indicating Byron on the left, Phillip on the right.
Both looked to be somewhere in their mid twenties, but what was so striking about them both was their perfect features. Neither had a hair out of place, their teeth when they smiled were incredibly white and even, noses straight, jaws firm. Logan thought there was something almost uncanny about them
"How do you do," each brother said to him. Reaching out, he shook their hands.
He saw their first flicker of emotion when they turned to greet Max, but then, Logan would have been surprised it he 'didn't' see a flicker of emotion on meeting her.
Stuart MacFarland was obviously a very proud father, and on appearance, he certainly had every right to be.
At that point, MacFarland called him over to show him some of the details on the board, explaining the company's policy towards re-forestation.
"I hear there're a lot of problems in the industry, with unscrupulous players," remarked Logan.
He saw a dark look cross the handsome face.
"There are a lot of problems everywhere," Logan added, hoping to press his advantage.
MacFarland unfortunately seemed to have himself well in hand. "Yes. I was just commenting on that very point to your Uncle."
"It's so hard for the ordinary person to do something," continued Logan, leaning back to look up into MacFarland's face. It was at times like this the disadvantage of sitting, when others were standing, particularly irked him.
Sensing that MacFarland wasn't going to take the bait, he tried a different tack. "You have a very beautiful home here, two handsome sons. Some would almost say perfect."
The older man suddenly beamed at him. "You're an astute man, Logan. You're quite right. I admire perfection. I crave perfect symmetry in my life."
"That's kind of a tall order, isn't it?' queried Logan, carefully.
"You only achieve in life what you strive for," he replied quickly, as if it were a well-used proverb to live by.
Logan nodded, wheeling back a little to improve his angle. "Well, I think it's good to have an ideal, it just depends on what you have to do to achieve it."
Max walked up to Logan at that point, timing it to hear MacFarland say, "Oh I'll do 'anything' to achieve my ideals," as he looked at Logan very seriously. "Make no mistake on 'that'. You see, the world doesn't believe that perfection is possible. I believe we at least have to strive for it."
"Whatever the cost?" questioned Logan.
MacFarland laughed suddenly, as if aware of the trap that was being sprung.
"I think Jonas mentioned something about your bulldog qualities to me."
Logan smiled politely, as MacFarland walked away saying, "Of course, if there's anything else you need to know, by all means, just ask me."
Max turned around to one of the boards, and looked to be reading avidly. As soon as MacFarland was out of earshot, she said to Logan quietly, "We just hit paydirt."
"What?"
"I saw Byron MacFarland at the market, seconds before the bomb warning," said Max tersely, at the same time pointing out to Logan something on one of the boards.
"You're sure?" asked Logan, thinking quickly.
"You think I'd forget a face like that?"
"We gotta talk to him," said Logan, ignoring her comment. "D'you think he remembers you?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe he does, but he can't remember from where," answered Max, musingly.
"We need to get him alone, preferably away from the house. We can't be sure it's not bugged," said Logan quietly, moving on to the next board explaining the wonders of Carmichael Logging's plans for the future of the timber industry.
Max looked around. The ground floor rooms were crowded with people, and upstairs was out of the question for Logan. It was almost insufferably warm in the house, and someone had opened a couple of the French doors that led out on to a wide stone-flagged terrace, overlooking the exquisitely laid out, floodlit gardens.
"Wait for me out there," she motioned to Logan.
"You sure you can get him to come?""
"Do pigs fly?" she asked, throwing him a sexy smile over her shoulder.
Byron MacFarland would probably follow her into hell itself when she smiled like that, Logan thought, as he made his way out to the terrace.
He hadn't been there long when Max came out, true to her word, followed by Byron MacFarland.
He seemed surprised to see Logan, which made Logan wonder, with an inward smile, what tale Max had spun to get him out there.
Without preamble, Max said quietly, "I saw you at the market. You dropped the warning about the bomb."
Byron looked from one to the other, a trace of fear in his unbelievably blue eyes.
He still held himself together, but they could both see he was very scared.
"Why did you do it?" asked Logan.
Byron looked around, as if he were expecting someone to jump out from behind the bushes.
"We need your help," pressed Logan. "Innocent people, families with children, could have been killed yesterday if it weren't for your action."
"I can't help you," said the young man, almost pleadingly. "I've got to go. I can't be seen here talking to you."
As he went to step away, Max blocked his path.
"Byron, you've proven that you don't buy into this vigilante scheme of your father's," Logan told him, throwing caution to the wind and speaking out his suspicions. "With your help, we could make sure that no one else gets killed."
"You just don't get it, do you? The only way to stop my father would be to kill him. He's obsessed with all this. He's been planning it ever since my mother died. He told Phillip and me that it was the only way to preserve her memory." He stopped for a moment, his voice low, speaking like someone who'd been under a great strain for a long time. "He said it would ensure that she didn't die in vain."
Wheeling closer, Logan said to him urgently, "She will have died in vain if you don't stop your father."
"I can't believe your mother raised you to be a homicidal maniac," said Max bluntly.
At the mention of his mother's name, she could see his eyes fill with unshed tears.
Max's words seemed to break him completely. He looked like a man who had been existing under incredible stress.
"Byron, will you help us?" asked Max.
He looked up as if he hadn't heard her. "My mother was ..." Struggling to find the right words, he finished simply with, "She would have been ashamed."
"Can you meet with us later tonight?" asked Logan, keen to get a commitment from him in case he changed his mind.
"No, no way, not tonight. They knew you were coming. They were waiting."
Max looked quickly at Logan, who didn't seem to be particularly shaken by the news.
"What did they have planned?" Max almost snapped at him.
Byron turned to Logan. "Nothing, I think. They just wanted to check you out. Find out if you were genuinely interested in logging."
"Well, they only had to ask," answered Logan flippantly.
"I'll meet you tomorrow," Byron said, very much in the manner of one who has just made an enormous decision that may well affect him for the rest of his life - which was exactly what he did just do. "9am. Danny's Diner."
Logan and Max nodded. It was a well-known diner down by the wharf.
While he would have preferred something a bit sooner, Logan mused he'd have to be content with that. "You go back in with Max," he told Byron, "I'll follow in a minute."
With a smile, Logan could hear Max saying, "I think trees are fascinating."
****************************************************
It's likely Max would have been more fascinated by a conversation that was currently drawing to a close in Stuart MacFarland's security room on the second floor.
Banks of monitors, reflecting the pictures from the many surveillance cameras around the house and grounds, surrounded the people in the room. They, however, were not looking at the monitors, instead they were intent on listening to a conversation that had just concluded on the terrace.
"Well gentlemen, this forces our hand, unfortunately," remarked Stuart MacFarland, apparently not particularly surprised by his son's words.
It's likely Byron MacFarland would have been more discreet if he'd known the tie pin his father had thoughtfully given him, was in fact, a miniature bugging device.
The only people in the room were Stuart MacFarland, Theodore Durant, and MacFarland's head of security, known only as Fleischer.
Theodore Durant, a thin sheen of sweat coating his face, looked at MacFarland. "This is bad, Mac. How did this Cale link any of this to you?"
MacFarland looked thoughtful. "The man's a journalist, beyond that, I don't have a clue."
"He has to be stopped. We've planned too long for this!" spoke Durant determinedly. "And what are you going to do about Byron?"
"I can handle Byron. He's not a problem," replied MacFarland, supremely confident, but sounding disappointed with his son's defection, nonetheless.
Turning to Fleischer, his decision having been made, he said, "Quick, follow me. We'll have to do this now."
*********************************************
Logan waited a few minutes before he followed Max back into the room, joining her as she stood in front of an enormous screen, which was showing a documentary on the logging industry.
"If I hafta look at another tree tonight, I just might chop it down myself," she grumbled to Logan.
"Well, I'd say we're just about done here," Logan replied, looking around the room for their host. "Can you see MacFarland anywhere?"
Max shook her head. "I was thinkin' while I'm here I should visit the little girl's room."
Logan looked at her, a hesitant look on his face. "I think we should get outta here. We've done what we wanted to, and they've got security cameras comin' outta the woodwork."
"Seems a pity not to check out what's on the second floor," insisted Max.
"Okay, but don't take any chances. We can't afford to slip up now."
Logan watched her as she went upstairs, already regretting his decision. He had a sudden sense of urgency that they should get out of there.
Refusing several offers of drinks or food, he made his way to the grand entrance to wait for Max there, as he'd have a clear sight of her as she came down the stairs.
Yet another waiter approached him with an offer of a drink, which Logan, once again, politely refused.
Logan, looking at the staircase, had just caught a glimpse of Max coming back down, when he became aware of the waiter apologizing profusely, having managed to somehow spill the contents of one of the glasses of wine onto his knee and the lower half of his leg.
"It's fine," said Logan, putting out a hand to tell the waiter not to bother.
"I'm terribly sorry, sir. Let me just wipe some of it from you," said the waiter at once, head down, apparently very embarrassed by the event, and quickly removing the damask napkin that had been folded over his arm, he began to wipe at Logan's pant leg to remove as much of the wine as possible.
At that moment, MacFarland himself called over to Logan, expressing his own apologies. Logan, who was becoming more and more annoyed by having so much attention drawn to him, immediately said, "Please, there's no harm done. We were just leaving anyway."
Max, coming down the stairs, had by this time caught a little of the action around Logan, and being quite sure he would like to be rescued, called to him as she came across the marble tiles.
"I'm ready to go now, Logan."
Breathing a sigh of relief, Logan said a quick goodbye to MacFarland, thankful the waiter had gone to attack some other unwitting guest, and left with Max.
**********************************************
Fleischer, still in his waiter's uniform, watched with MacFarland from the study window, as the Aztek drove down the driveway.
"What about the girl?" he asked his boss.
MacFarland sighed. "She's very beautiful, almost exquisite. We can always deal with her later if we have to."
TBC
Special thanks to Alaidh!!
Chapter 15
"You're right. Things just got worse," Logan agreed matter-of -factly.
"I can't be entirely sure, but the old lady out in front of Melody's building thought I was the same person who'd visited Melody earlier," Max said.
She added dully, "A girl wearing a black catsuit visits Melody, I find Melody with her neck snapped and someone's tryin' very hard to make life difficult for Eyes Only. It all adds up, Logan, and I don't like the numbers."
Logan thoughtfully bit his bottom lip. He had to admit, it all added up, and he didn't like the numbers, either.
Speaking carefully, he said, "What are the chances of Melody talking before she died?"
Max spoke quickly. "I can't be sure," she admitted, "but the usual procedure would be to get in and out as quickly as possible, with a minimum amount of personal contact."
"But you can't be sure," reiterated Logan, a touch dryly.
"No," she admitted, then added, "I knew there'd be trouble when you did that Eyes Only broadcast for us after I helped Zack get away from Manticore. I shouldn't have let you." Max's brown eyes were swimming with worry. It was bad enough that Manticore was after her, but she would have done anything to keep him out of their clutches.
Logan's mind was processing the facts quickly.
Thinking out loud, he said, "If Manticore killed Melody, it points to them being the ones behind the Eyes Only dirt. The question is, did they manufacture the situation, or are they taking advantage of the situation to discredit Eyes Only?"
"We have no way of knowing that," put in Max, in the same worried tone.
"Well, it makes sense. Eyes Only pissed them off by doing the cable hack; this is their way of getting back at him. What better way than to discredit the Informant Net, effectively putting Eyes Only out of business because nobody believes a word he says?"
He smiled cynically for a moment. "It's clever. I'm surprised no one thought of it sooner."
"Well, before you start giving out prizes, what are we gonna do about this?"
Logan thought for a minute, the whining of the wipers sounding unnaturally loud.
Finally he said, "If the Manticore angle was purely about throwing mud, then they probably figured they'd done their damage, and it was time to cover up the loose ends."
"Namely, Melody," put in Max.
"Yeah, Melody," echoed Logan softly.
Max looked at him quickly. She thought she'd detected a note of pain in his voice.
"Back at the apartment, you heard?" was all she could bring herself to ask him.
"She was under a lot of pressure," Logan said, his eyes staring out the front windshield, for the moment unseeingly. "I can't all together blame her."
Max turned away. Blaming Melody was exactly what she wanted to do. She wondered how Logan could be so forgiving.
Perhaps sensing her thoughts, Logan said, "I think she always felt kinda second best ... probably saw this as her big opportunity."
"And sell out a friend?" Max flew back at him.
Logan didn't have an answer to that one.
All Logan could think of were Melody's words to him at the safe house. "She told me not to judge her by my standards," he told Max quietly.
Max gave him a small smile. "I just want you to be able to sleep without worrying about someone breaking down your door in the middle of the night."
"I'll be able to sleep when I've found who's planting these bombs and executing any resident bad guys," Logan replied seriously.
************************************************
"Did Melody talk?"
It was the question burning in Max's mind as she numbly helped Logan put the groceries away that they'd left on his counter in their rush to get out.
Common sense told her you don't pass the time of day with your 'hit'. You get in and get out.
Both for Melody's sake and Logan's continued safety, she hoped that Melody barely knew what was happening.
In her mind she could imagine Melody opening the door, never suspecting the attractive girl in black, who was probably waiting for her to show up at her apartment.
The deed was most likely performed as soon as they were in the door.
It's hard to talk when someone's snapping your neck, thought Max dryly.
Her eyes went to Logan, putting away the last of the groceries.
If only she could be sure.
"You want some dinner?" he asked, breaking into her thoughts.
"I'm not that hungry," she admitted.
"Know the feeling," he agreed, unlocking his brakes and heading through to his computer.
"Watcha gonna do?" asked Max, following him.
"Firstly, I'd better call Matt, fill him in on what happened in Morristown. If I arrange a meet with him, will you go and drop him the gun we took off that heavy? I still want it checked for prints."
He saw her momentary hesitation, and swung back around to his screen, snapping on the brakes of his chair, his hands going to the keys.
"I need to get the lowdown on MacFarland and look into the 'Seattle Businessmen's' League'."
Without taking his eyes from the screen, he said, "Max. There's nothing to point to Melody exposing me before she died."
"We can't be sure," she said quietly, watching him as she leant against the paneling that divided the area.
"I got too much to do to think about that," he stated tersely. "Will you do it for me, or not?"
He made it sound more like an ultimatum.
"Arrange the meet. I'll do it." Max snapped, not sounding happy.
"Good, then I can concentrate on this stuff," answered Logan, reaching forward for his phone.
Wondering sometimes how she let him talk her into things she didn't want to do, Max headed into the kitchen to make a hot drink while Logan was on the phone with Matt.
Logan was just finishing off his conversation with Matt when Max returned with two mugs of coffee.
"How'd it go?" she asked Logan, setting his drink down for him.
"I told him about Charlie, and our theory on the logging camp. He'll meet with you in twenty minutes at the corner of South 15th and Pacific Avenue."
"Did you tell him about Melody?"
He sighed at that. "I had to tell him. I figured it would be safer if he were heading up that investigation. Naturally, I couldn't tell him about Manticore or that Melody had guessed Eyes Only's identity."
"Hope we did the right thing by leaving that album behind," said Max, sitting in his computer chair, the mug of coffee in her hand.
"Assassins aren't in the habit of stealing family snapshots. It would have posed too many questions if it disappeared and one of her close friends wondered where it had gone. I told Matt I knew her. It seemed the safest route."
Pulling out the drawer to his desk, he took out the gun, now wrapped in an old shirt, that Max was to take to Matt Sung.
"Here you go."
Max looked at it for a moment.
"I promise you I wont let anyone snap my neck ... at least 'til you get back," he added considerately.
"Very funny," she retorted.
************************************************
"Logan," called Max, striding into his apartment, some time later.
"Here," he called from the kitchen.
She looked at him in surprise. "Thought you weren't hungry."
"Well, I have a friend who's a transgenic killing machine, and she's been known to get real cranky if she's not fed."
"I need to keep up my strength to save your ass," Max replied glibly, taking the plate of food Logan handed her and heading through to the dining table that he'd already set.
"You seem a bit happier," she commented, as he brought his own plate to the table.
"I've found out a few interesting facts about Uncle Jonas's good friend."
Max raised her eyebrows.
"Turns out he's quite the businessman, with fingers in everything from logging to pharmaceuticals. He was halfway through a medical degree when he changed streams and became an industrial chemist, building up a small, but highly profitable business under the name of Byron/ Phillip chemicals, which happens to be the name of his two sons."
"Sounds like your regular, devoted family man," commented Max.
"Looks like he used the money he made off that as a springboard for a whole lot of other investments that were even more profitable. To put it bluntly, the man's worth a mint."
"Sounds right down Jonas's alley."
"Mmm," agreed Logan, pouring them each some wine, before continuing. "Here's the interesting part - his wife was killed two years ago. It looks like she got caught in the crossfire of some gang war. They were really bad a few years back."
"Enough to send MacFarland into some sorta tailspin?"
"It's possible."
"What about this 'Businessmen's League' thingy?"
"Ah, the 'Seattle Businessmen's League'. Another interesting story."
"No wonder you're in such a good mood," remarked Max.
He gave her one of his quick grins. "Guess I got lucky while you were gone."
"We certainly needed some of that," Max said, "The sooner this is cleared up, the better."
"The League was formed eighteen months ago, headed by MacFarland himself, and included a number of influential 'businessmen', needless to say."
Max waited for the punch line, knowing it was coming by the look in his eye.
"I did a bit of 'research' into their files, and I found a very interesting name tucked away on their books: Theodore Durant, alias Buddy Franklin, a particularly extreme right-wing idealist, suspected, but never proven, to be involved in some high profile, highly suspect, activities."
"You 'have' been doing your homework," admired Max.
"The next thing I have to do is find a list of possible places where they've got their trained vigilantes holed up."
"How does Manticore fit into all this?"
"I can't be sure of that," Logan admitted.
"Still, it's a start," she couldn't help smiling at him.
"Yeah."
**********************************************
Logan spent the rest of the evening, and well into the morning, continuing his research into MacFarland, and "The Seattle Businessmen's League,' but without the success of his initial research, and eventually, with considerable frustration, he gave up.
The next morning, he was woken by a phone call from Bennett, very upset with the news of Melody's death.
Marianne had been crying all morning since she'd heard. To think they'd all only seen her the night before. Some woman in black was a suspect. Poor Melody, all she wanted to do was find the right man and have kids.
Logan, of course, had to act shocked and surprised and saddened, and by the time he got off the phone he'd had more than enough.
He hadn't considered yesterday what he would say to Bennett and Marianne, and suddenly faced with it, all he felt was guilt.
He didn't know if he felt bad about lying to Bennett or if he felt bad about having to lie about Melody, and the person she had become.
"Well, no one came to strangle you in your bed while you were asleep," said Max brightly to him as he came into the kitchen, genuinely very glad about the fact, and feeling more and more sure that Melody had died with her secret untold. Well, that was one thing she'd be thankful to the reporter for.
"Great," was the surly reply.
"Did you get out of bed on the wrong side or something?" she asked him.
"Had a call from Bennett," was all he would answer, in a tone that said he didn't want to talk about it, as he made coffee.
"Oh," commented Max, thinking it would be wiser to say nothing.
At that moment, Bling came in. "Morning people," he greeted them both in a slightly subdued manner.
Turning to Logan, he said quietly, "I suppose you know ..."
"Yep, I know about Melody," Logan interrupted him shortly.
"I'm sorry," said Bling, his eyes going to Max.
"I don't wanna talk about it," Logan stated with finality, as a general comment to both of them, pushing himself into his study.
Max followed a few minutes later to find him staring at his computer screen.
"You forgot to turn it on again," she murmured, putting his coffee on the desk for him. "You forgot your coffee, too."
"Thought you'd be on your way to work by now," he remarked, ignoring both of her comments.
"I figure they can survive without me for another day."
"Whatever," he commented, in a tone that said he didn't care if she was there or not
Regarding his computer as if it were personally responsible for every wrong in his life, he didn't boot it up, but wheeled out to find Bling instead.
"We'll do my reps now, if you're ready," he told his trainer.
"Sure," replied Bling, recognizing the 'I'm pissed off with the world,' tone. Despite knowing what he was in for, he added calmly, "I'll go and set up."
Working through the reps, Logan tried to concentrate, but the truth was, all he could see was that day they'd been sailing on his Uncle's yacht.
The memories, long repressed by unhappy ones, came flooding back. He'd only known Val a short while that day, and already he'd been totally captivated by her. It was the day they'd first kissed, tentatively at first, then long and passionately, only to break apart, slightly embarrassed, when Melody unexpectedly came up on deck. They'd all laughed about it later as the yacht returned to shore, the glowing sun by then, a burnt, orange smudge on the horizon.
Logan looked at the weights with dislike as Bling got them out and put them on the exercise table.
Bling, interpreting his expression correctly, was considering whether to let it pass or not, when Max came in, the phone in her hand.
"Stuart MacFarland," she mouthed at him.
Using one hand to steady himself on the table, he took the phone, shooting a look at Max as he said, "Hello."
Stuart MacFarland, at the other end, spoke with easy familiarity, "Logan, we spoke the other night at the housewarming."
"That's right," replied Logan reservedly.
"Your name has come across my desk. I hear you're doing an article on re- forestation."
"It's an area I'm researching," agreed Logan.
"Excellent. Our timber industry always needs some unbiased reporting and I hear that you have a very good reputation for upholding those ideals."
"I try," responded Logan coolly, wondering where he was going with this.
"Wonderful, wonderful. As one of the owners of Carmichael Logging, I'm holding an informal, well let's call it an 'information evening', about the timber industry. We've been getting quite a bit of bad publicity, largely due to all the 'fly-by-nighters', and we're doing our best to educate the community on the best way of preserving our forests."
"Sounds interesting," said Logan briefly.
"I'd be pleased if you could attend. I think you'd find it beneficial to your story," urged MacFarland.
"Where are you holding this event?" asked Logan of MacFarland, then mouthing the word, 'pen', to Max.
"It will be at my estate, 402 Oceanview Terrace."
Logan repeated the address so that Max could write it down.
"Excellent," said the older man, and for the moment, Logan could imagine him rubbing his hands with glee, "I'll be expecting you then. Anytime after eight."
Logan looked at Max as MacFarland hung up, putting the phone down next to him on the table.
"What was that all about?" asked Max.
"I've been invited to an 'Information night' about the forestry industry."
She made a face. "I take it we're going?"
"Well, 'I'm' going."
"You wouldn't leave your 'research assistant' behind?"
"No, I've got some 'researching' in mind for you."
***************************************************
The phone call seemed to put Logan in a slightly better mood, and he managed to get through the rest of his reps without incurring a disapproving look from Bling.
After a shower, he was back at his computer, once more hacking into Carmichael Logging and Byron/Phillip Pharmaceuticals, trying to find possible sites where the vigilante team may be holed up while in Seattle.
All day the news reported the 'tragic death' of reporter, Melody Banks, announcing that a young woman in a black catsuit was required for questioning in regard to the incident.
Max was ready to throw the TV through the window when she heard the news presenter announce the possible theory that Eyes Only had killed Melody in order to silence her.
"I'm gonna do some frickin' 'silencing'," she fumed, turning it off with a very deliberate push on the remote button. Where was this going to end?
Logan made no comment when the report was run, other than, "It figures."
Max thought that was a bad sign.
She watched him throughout the afternoon as he chased the information he was after, intently studying the screen hour after hour, his fingers flying over the keys, a frown rarely absent from his face.
Bling had left long ago, and now Max sat by the large windows as the evening crept in, steadily darkening the apartment.
She had just heated up some left over dinner for them from the night before, when Logan came out, a sheet of paper on his knee.
"This is all I can find," he announced to her.
"You found some sites?"
"Well, possible sites," he replied. "I was hoping you'd be able to check 'em out after the meeting at MacFarland's.
"Sounds good. I 'made' us dinner."
"Impressive. It's amazing what you can do with a microwave."
Max smiled as she carried their dinner through to the table. His black mood seemed to have lifted.
"You got any scheme for tonight at MacFarland's?" she asked him a short time later, between mouthfuls of dinner.
"I think I'm goin' for the 'approach the lion in his den scheme'," he replied.
"In other words, you don't have a scheme," she stated flatly.
"I wouldn't quite say that. I'm hoping you'll get a chance to do some snooping."
"What will you be doing?"
"I'll be learning everything I can about re-forestation, of course."
**************************************************
Stuart MacFarland's house was nothing short of magnificent, from the white Corinthian columns, to the black and white marble tiled entrance, complete with an enormous chandelier that faced the curved divided staircase.
With a sideways glance at Logan, Max murmured, "This might even be out of your league."
At the door, they were met by MacFarland himself, who appeared to be a most attentive, urbane host. He was a handsome man, with hazel eyes, and a very distinguished head of silvery hair.
"Logan, I'm so glad you could make it. I'm sure you'll find this a most informative evening."
"I'm sure I will," replied Logan easily. "Have you met my ... assistant," he said after a slight pause.
Max held out her hand, introducing herself simply as "Max."
"I'm charmed, my dear, charmed. If I had an assistant like you, I don't think I'd get 'any' work done."
"How sweet of you," smiled Max, playing her part.
"Come now, you must meet my sons," continued MacFarland, as if nothing could possibly give him greater pleasure, leading them through to another of the sumptuous rooms on the ground floor.
There were a lot of people at the event, but because the rooms were so large, it was anything but congested.
Logan let Max and MacFarland go before him, then followed them into the other room where he found a comprehensive rundown of the logging industry mounted on boards around the room.
"Byron, Phillip," he suddenly called to two young men who had been speaking to two attractive girls at the other end of the room. By the look of them, Logan couldn't imagine they were there to learn about re-forestation.
"My sons," said MacFarland proudly, indicating Byron on the left, Phillip on the right.
Both looked to be somewhere in their mid twenties, but what was so striking about them both was their perfect features. Neither had a hair out of place, their teeth when they smiled were incredibly white and even, noses straight, jaws firm. Logan thought there was something almost uncanny about them
"How do you do," each brother said to him. Reaching out, he shook their hands.
He saw their first flicker of emotion when they turned to greet Max, but then, Logan would have been surprised it he 'didn't' see a flicker of emotion on meeting her.
Stuart MacFarland was obviously a very proud father, and on appearance, he certainly had every right to be.
At that point, MacFarland called him over to show him some of the details on the board, explaining the company's policy towards re-forestation.
"I hear there're a lot of problems in the industry, with unscrupulous players," remarked Logan.
He saw a dark look cross the handsome face.
"There are a lot of problems everywhere," Logan added, hoping to press his advantage.
MacFarland unfortunately seemed to have himself well in hand. "Yes. I was just commenting on that very point to your Uncle."
"It's so hard for the ordinary person to do something," continued Logan, leaning back to look up into MacFarland's face. It was at times like this the disadvantage of sitting, when others were standing, particularly irked him.
Sensing that MacFarland wasn't going to take the bait, he tried a different tack. "You have a very beautiful home here, two handsome sons. Some would almost say perfect."
The older man suddenly beamed at him. "You're an astute man, Logan. You're quite right. I admire perfection. I crave perfect symmetry in my life."
"That's kind of a tall order, isn't it?' queried Logan, carefully.
"You only achieve in life what you strive for," he replied quickly, as if it were a well-used proverb to live by.
Logan nodded, wheeling back a little to improve his angle. "Well, I think it's good to have an ideal, it just depends on what you have to do to achieve it."
Max walked up to Logan at that point, timing it to hear MacFarland say, "Oh I'll do 'anything' to achieve my ideals," as he looked at Logan very seriously. "Make no mistake on 'that'. You see, the world doesn't believe that perfection is possible. I believe we at least have to strive for it."
"Whatever the cost?" questioned Logan.
MacFarland laughed suddenly, as if aware of the trap that was being sprung.
"I think Jonas mentioned something about your bulldog qualities to me."
Logan smiled politely, as MacFarland walked away saying, "Of course, if there's anything else you need to know, by all means, just ask me."
Max turned around to one of the boards, and looked to be reading avidly. As soon as MacFarland was out of earshot, she said to Logan quietly, "We just hit paydirt."
"What?"
"I saw Byron MacFarland at the market, seconds before the bomb warning," said Max tersely, at the same time pointing out to Logan something on one of the boards.
"You're sure?" asked Logan, thinking quickly.
"You think I'd forget a face like that?"
"We gotta talk to him," said Logan, ignoring her comment. "D'you think he remembers you?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe he does, but he can't remember from where," answered Max, musingly.
"We need to get him alone, preferably away from the house. We can't be sure it's not bugged," said Logan quietly, moving on to the next board explaining the wonders of Carmichael Logging's plans for the future of the timber industry.
Max looked around. The ground floor rooms were crowded with people, and upstairs was out of the question for Logan. It was almost insufferably warm in the house, and someone had opened a couple of the French doors that led out on to a wide stone-flagged terrace, overlooking the exquisitely laid out, floodlit gardens.
"Wait for me out there," she motioned to Logan.
"You sure you can get him to come?""
"Do pigs fly?" she asked, throwing him a sexy smile over her shoulder.
Byron MacFarland would probably follow her into hell itself when she smiled like that, Logan thought, as he made his way out to the terrace.
He hadn't been there long when Max came out, true to her word, followed by Byron MacFarland.
He seemed surprised to see Logan, which made Logan wonder, with an inward smile, what tale Max had spun to get him out there.
Without preamble, Max said quietly, "I saw you at the market. You dropped the warning about the bomb."
Byron looked from one to the other, a trace of fear in his unbelievably blue eyes.
He still held himself together, but they could both see he was very scared.
"Why did you do it?" asked Logan.
Byron looked around, as if he were expecting someone to jump out from behind the bushes.
"We need your help," pressed Logan. "Innocent people, families with children, could have been killed yesterday if it weren't for your action."
"I can't help you," said the young man, almost pleadingly. "I've got to go. I can't be seen here talking to you."
As he went to step away, Max blocked his path.
"Byron, you've proven that you don't buy into this vigilante scheme of your father's," Logan told him, throwing caution to the wind and speaking out his suspicions. "With your help, we could make sure that no one else gets killed."
"You just don't get it, do you? The only way to stop my father would be to kill him. He's obsessed with all this. He's been planning it ever since my mother died. He told Phillip and me that it was the only way to preserve her memory." He stopped for a moment, his voice low, speaking like someone who'd been under a great strain for a long time. "He said it would ensure that she didn't die in vain."
Wheeling closer, Logan said to him urgently, "She will have died in vain if you don't stop your father."
"I can't believe your mother raised you to be a homicidal maniac," said Max bluntly.
At the mention of his mother's name, she could see his eyes fill with unshed tears.
Max's words seemed to break him completely. He looked like a man who had been existing under incredible stress.
"Byron, will you help us?" asked Max.
He looked up as if he hadn't heard her. "My mother was ..." Struggling to find the right words, he finished simply with, "She would have been ashamed."
"Can you meet with us later tonight?" asked Logan, keen to get a commitment from him in case he changed his mind.
"No, no way, not tonight. They knew you were coming. They were waiting."
Max looked quickly at Logan, who didn't seem to be particularly shaken by the news.
"What did they have planned?" Max almost snapped at him.
Byron turned to Logan. "Nothing, I think. They just wanted to check you out. Find out if you were genuinely interested in logging."
"Well, they only had to ask," answered Logan flippantly.
"I'll meet you tomorrow," Byron said, very much in the manner of one who has just made an enormous decision that may well affect him for the rest of his life - which was exactly what he did just do. "9am. Danny's Diner."
Logan and Max nodded. It was a well-known diner down by the wharf.
While he would have preferred something a bit sooner, Logan mused he'd have to be content with that. "You go back in with Max," he told Byron, "I'll follow in a minute."
With a smile, Logan could hear Max saying, "I think trees are fascinating."
****************************************************
It's likely Max would have been more fascinated by a conversation that was currently drawing to a close in Stuart MacFarland's security room on the second floor.
Banks of monitors, reflecting the pictures from the many surveillance cameras around the house and grounds, surrounded the people in the room. They, however, were not looking at the monitors, instead they were intent on listening to a conversation that had just concluded on the terrace.
"Well gentlemen, this forces our hand, unfortunately," remarked Stuart MacFarland, apparently not particularly surprised by his son's words.
It's likely Byron MacFarland would have been more discreet if he'd known the tie pin his father had thoughtfully given him, was in fact, a miniature bugging device.
The only people in the room were Stuart MacFarland, Theodore Durant, and MacFarland's head of security, known only as Fleischer.
Theodore Durant, a thin sheen of sweat coating his face, looked at MacFarland. "This is bad, Mac. How did this Cale link any of this to you?"
MacFarland looked thoughtful. "The man's a journalist, beyond that, I don't have a clue."
"He has to be stopped. We've planned too long for this!" spoke Durant determinedly. "And what are you going to do about Byron?"
"I can handle Byron. He's not a problem," replied MacFarland, supremely confident, but sounding disappointed with his son's defection, nonetheless.
Turning to Fleischer, his decision having been made, he said, "Quick, follow me. We'll have to do this now."
*********************************************
Logan waited a few minutes before he followed Max back into the room, joining her as she stood in front of an enormous screen, which was showing a documentary on the logging industry.
"If I hafta look at another tree tonight, I just might chop it down myself," she grumbled to Logan.
"Well, I'd say we're just about done here," Logan replied, looking around the room for their host. "Can you see MacFarland anywhere?"
Max shook her head. "I was thinkin' while I'm here I should visit the little girl's room."
Logan looked at her, a hesitant look on his face. "I think we should get outta here. We've done what we wanted to, and they've got security cameras comin' outta the woodwork."
"Seems a pity not to check out what's on the second floor," insisted Max.
"Okay, but don't take any chances. We can't afford to slip up now."
Logan watched her as she went upstairs, already regretting his decision. He had a sudden sense of urgency that they should get out of there.
Refusing several offers of drinks or food, he made his way to the grand entrance to wait for Max there, as he'd have a clear sight of her as she came down the stairs.
Yet another waiter approached him with an offer of a drink, which Logan, once again, politely refused.
Logan, looking at the staircase, had just caught a glimpse of Max coming back down, when he became aware of the waiter apologizing profusely, having managed to somehow spill the contents of one of the glasses of wine onto his knee and the lower half of his leg.
"It's fine," said Logan, putting out a hand to tell the waiter not to bother.
"I'm terribly sorry, sir. Let me just wipe some of it from you," said the waiter at once, head down, apparently very embarrassed by the event, and quickly removing the damask napkin that had been folded over his arm, he began to wipe at Logan's pant leg to remove as much of the wine as possible.
At that moment, MacFarland himself called over to Logan, expressing his own apologies. Logan, who was becoming more and more annoyed by having so much attention drawn to him, immediately said, "Please, there's no harm done. We were just leaving anyway."
Max, coming down the stairs, had by this time caught a little of the action around Logan, and being quite sure he would like to be rescued, called to him as she came across the marble tiles.
"I'm ready to go now, Logan."
Breathing a sigh of relief, Logan said a quick goodbye to MacFarland, thankful the waiter had gone to attack some other unwitting guest, and left with Max.
**********************************************
Fleischer, still in his waiter's uniform, watched with MacFarland from the study window, as the Aztek drove down the driveway.
"What about the girl?" he asked his boss.
MacFarland sighed. "She's very beautiful, almost exquisite. We can always deal with her later if we have to."
TBC