Firstly my apologies for taking so long in getting this to you, but my beta
has been very busy and then had some technical problems. The final chapter
is written and hopefully I'll have it to you soon.
Thanks once more for all those kind enough to review - you have made me very happy!!
And my thanks to Alaidh for the beta particularly when I know she's so busy!!!
Chapter 21
"Sorry. No one's allowed in ma'am."
Max stared up at the policeman with impatience.
"It's important we see Detective Matt Sung. We have an urgent message for him," she argued.
The burly policeman looked unmoved. "I have my orders."
Max turned to Zack with a look of frustration. Matt Sung was in there somewhere, and they couldn't get to him to warn him of the potential threat.
The security was tight at the Convention Center. Police covered all entrances, and passes had to be shown to gain access.
Zack looked at his watch, feeling the same pressure Max felt. "We've only got five minutes to go."
"There's gotta be a way in here somewhere," she responded, eyes scanning the building desperately. It was a four storey, modern edifice, opened some ten years earlier, just before the pulse hit. As such, it was designed for controlled conditions, not the vagaries of Seattle weather through open windows. The only way in would be to use one of the doors, or enter from the rooftop, and with the current level of security, that would be almost impossible.
They hadn't been permitted any closer than the entrance to the parking lot, where they still sat on Max's bike as they examined their options.
The parking lot was filled with official and expensive looking cars. Immediately in front of the Center itself was a television news van, the TV reporter apparently getting ready to do his broadcast.
The ringing of Zack's phone made Max turn and look at him as he took it out and answered. "Logan," he mouthed at her.
Max held her hand out imperatively for the device, which Zack gave to her after a moment's hesitation.
"Whatcha got?" she asked tersely.
"Governor's arriving by car at 8. I've checked the security feeds - nothing happening inside."
"That's it?"
"Best I can do," she heard him admit. "Security for this place is tighter than a drum."
"Tell me about it."
Without another word, she passed the phone back to Zack.
"We need some sort of diversion to get in there," she suggested, horribly aware of the time flying by.
More police had come out in preparation for the Governor's arrival, and the news team now had their cameraman out, the reporter furiously puffing on a cigarette, as if to finish it before the official car arrived.
"Let's park," said Zack. "If we're gonna try to get inside, we'll have to do it now."
Max nodded, driving back out to park on the side of the road. It was the closest they could get.
"We could try around the back while everyone's concentrating on the arrival out front," Max suggested.
Zack agreed with a nod. They had just gotten off the bike and were walking past the front of the building along the pavement in order to find a way around the side when the Governor and his entourage of two other cars arrived.
They stood barely fifty yards from the impressive entrance where the cars had stopped, when a black van came screeching into the driveway of the Convention Center, knocking down the security barricade and stopping suddenly by the governor's car, who had yet to get out.
Max watched the proceedings with a bad feeling, morbidly fascinated by the inevitability of the scene before her.
She now knew with certainty they had been too late.
The back doors of the van burst open as it stopped at the three official cars, revealing a dozen men who jumped out, flak jackets on, machine guns at the ready.
Their targets had no chance at all as the machine guns raked the vehicle relentlessly.
The news reporter, even though he had puffed so furiously earlier, had no opportunity to finish his cigarette. It fell from his bloody hand, hitting the ground mere fractions of a second before his lifeless body did.
Max saw the cameraman turn around, a look of terror on his face, but it was the only reaction he had time for.
The sound technician attempted to run to the news van for cover, but Max could see the bullet holes that formed a neat line the length of his back against his white shirt.
It was all ever in less than a minute.
She looked at Zack, trying to make sense of what she'd seen, but he grabbed her by the arm and stared with an intensity that frightened her.
Following his intent stare, she felt her own breath catch in her throat.
It was Donald Lydecker.
Instinctively they both shrank further into the shadow of the bush they were standing near, and watched as he deployed his soldiers.
One of them opened the door of the bullet-riddled TV van, and cautiously looked inside before entering.
Another man checked the bodies of the fallen reporter and cameraman. Max doubted very much they would ever pose a threat again.
The ringing of Zack's phone cut the now eerily quiet scene outside the Convention Center.
"Yeah," he spoke into it curtly.
"What's happening?" It was Logan.
"Just Lydecker up to his old tricks again," said Zack coldly, before handing it over to Max.
"Logan,"
"Max, you're okay?" She could hear the relief in his voice.
"I'm fine, but it turns out MacFarland has been sleeping with the enemy."
Max turned suddenly, surprised to see Zack slump to the ground. Within seconds, she had joined him.
A tall, silver haired man took the cell phone from her grasp, and held it up to his own ear, listening intently. When he heard no noise, he murmured into the device, "Logan Cale I presume?"
***************************************************************
Logan had furiously worked on hacking into the security for the Convention Center as soon as Max and Zack had left, checking Matt Sung's phone at regular intervals, but it continued to ring unanswered.
Eventually, he'd been able to access the security, but had found nothing suspicious or untoward, which he reflected, was exactly as he would have expected it – professionals don't leave glaringly obvious signs announcing their intentions.
He called Zack's number to pass on the only information he could find: the Governor's car would be arriving at 8pm.
Flicking through the security camera feeds, Logan missed the entrance of the black van as it swung into the driveway, but caught it as the men poured out of the back.
He watched with the same morbid fascination that Max and Zack had as he saw them open fire on the TV news van, reporter, cameraman and sound technician.
This was definitely not what he had expected.
Grabbing his cell, he quickly pressed re-dial, eyes glued to the screen as he waited the few seconds for Zack to pick up.
"What's happening?"
At the mention of Lydecker's name, Logan felt his mind reeling, then Max was on and all he could think of to say for the second was, "Max, you're okay." The thought of Lydecker's presence in the very area where he had sent her had filled him with a sense of dread.
Max's reply about MacFarland sleeping with the enemy came back clearly to him, and he was trying to ascertain in his mind the truth of the statement when another voice came on the line.
"Logan Cale I presume?"
Logan's gaze flew from the screen, wholly absorbed now in the voice that came over the phone. It was Stuart MacFarland.
Without hesitation he asked the question that concerned him most. "Where's Max?"
"Tell me where my sons are," the other man snapped back.
Logan's eyes focused on some point above his computer, but his mind was intent on processing the ramifications of MacFarland's words.
"I won't tell you anything until I know they're okay," Logan replied with a calmness he was far from feeling.
"For the moment they're fine, but their continued good health depends on you," the voice responded.
MacFarland spoke quickly now, with a deadly urgency. "I want my sons. Tell me where they are, and I'll meet you there."
"What's to stop you from killing my friends as soon as I give you the address," Logan spat back at him, one hand checking the security feeds in a desperate attempt to locate MacFarland, but the older man's next words brought his attention fully back to the phone.
"We have a gun aimed at the girls thigh. If you don't give me the address immediately, we will shoot her – left leg first, then right."
"No!" The single word sprang from his lips almost involuntarily.
"I'm counting to three," said MacFarland.
Logan gave him the address before he got to 'two'.
"You're a wise man. Meet us there if you want your friends back. Come alone and unarmed," MacFarland finished peremptorily, then hung up.
Logan took the phone from his ear and stared at it intently, as if somehow he would find inspiration there.
For a second his fear for Max's safety held him immobile, and a sickening feeling of guilt washed over him because her predicament was his fault.
His eyes went to the drawer where he kept his gun, and for a moment he hesitated, then making up his mind decisively, he picked up not the gun, but his cell phone, and pushed away from his computer, grabbing his car keys from the hall table as he headed for the door.
**************************************************************
With dismay, Logan saw a line of cars before him as he drove up to the sector checkpoint.
Looking at the clock on the dashboard, he estimated he still had another forty minutes to travel after this point to get to the motel that was located on the opposite side of town to where he lived. MacFarland, coming from the Convention Center, would be able to cover the distance in half that time. Logan could only hope that MacFarland faced a long line at the checkpoint he would have to pass through.
His eyes went to the cell phone that he'd tossed on the passenger seat when he'd got in the car.
He knew there was no excuse – he had more than ample time to call the MacFarland brothers while waiting at the checkpoint; he could give them the chance to get away, but where would that leave Max and Zack?
What would MacFarland do if his sons weren't at the motel when he arrived?
'I don't even know MacFarland's intentions,' he worried, knuckles white on the steering wheel as he watched the line of cars ahead of him refuse to move no matter how much he willed it. 'Maybe he intends to kill his sons as well?' his mind raced on with increasing pessimism.
The one thing he 'was' sure of was that Byron and Phillip had put their trust in him in exchange for the truth. No matter how difficult it was, he felt he simply couldn't let their father turn up on them unannounced.
He looked at the phone again, but it wasn't the face of the MacFarland brothers he saw in his mind.
Another car moved through the checkpoint. That left three in front of him.
Logan stared through the front windshield for several minutes, but his conscience was working overtime.
He picked up his cell.
**********************************************************
It was a good forty-five minutes later before Logan at last pulled up outside the motel.
The wait at the sector point had seemed interminable and it was only with a huge effort that he had managed to hang on to his quickly disappearing patience, which Bling could testify was never his strong point at the best of times, in order to not aggravate the sector police further.
Possibly because of the incident at the Convention Center, they were checking all vehicles with a fine-tooth comb. "Just as well I didn't bring the gun," he murmured under his breath as they did a disturbingly thorough check of the Aztek.
The only concession granted to Logan was, after some initial debate, he was allowed to remain in his car while it was being checked, unlike the other unfortunate people who had to stand about in the drizzling rain. He breathed a sigh of relief for the unexpected thoughtfulness of the sector cop on duty when time was so precious.
"Move on please, sir," said the sector cop, waving him through.
Barely noticing the unusually polite tone, Logan kept his thoughts well and truly focused on getting to the motel as he muttered a silent prayer that Stuart MacFarland had been delayed as well.
****************************************************
Finally the dismal lights of the motel appeared ahead, and he turned into the driveway, mentally promising that if they got out of this mess, he'd never subject Max to such a depressing fleapit again.
As soon as he stopped the car at the motel, a crack of light appeared in the doorway of the room where the two brothers were holed up, and a man came out and headed straight towards him. Logan, observing the gun the man held in his right hand, figured this wasn't a social visit.
"Is this how you greet all your guests?" Logan asked him as he opened his door.
"Just get outta the car," the man replied calmly. Logan had a feeling he'd heard that voice before, but it was too dark to see his face.
The man stayed at his back so Logan had to reach forward and open the door to the motel room, instinctively bracing himself for a blow to the head as he wheeled in. 'Happens that way in the movies,' he mused darkly.
Thankfully his skull remained intact, and the first person he saw was Stuart MacFarland standing in front of him, the gun in his hand pointed directly at Logan.
Max and Zack both lay in an unconscious heap on the double bed while Phillip and Byron stood to the right of their father.
Logan ignored the three MacFarlands and headed straight for Max, taking her wrist and quickly checking her pulse. With relief, he found it felt strong and steady, as was Zack's.
Logan then spun slowly back to MacFarland. "I kept my end of the bargain," he commented with a slight edge to his voice.
"I never thought you wouldn't," acknowledged the father.
"Looks like things didn't quite go to plan tonight at the Convention Center," Logan remarked disparagingly.
"How much of that was your doing?" MacFarland asked silkily.
Logan shook his head, asserting honestly, "I was as surprised as you when that went down ... if you were surprised," he added thoughtfully.
He could see MacFarland staring at him closely, as if to ascertain whether he were telling the truth or not.
"It did seem like an extreme way to prove your dissatisfaction with the media," Logan continued, as his mind pleaded insistently for Max to wake up.
"You're a real barrel of laughs," the man who had followed Logan in from the car, said derisively.
"And 'you' are clumsy serving wine," returned Logan evenly, remembering where he'd seen the man and wondering at the same time just how long he could keep the two of them talking.
"What do you intend to do with them, Father?" asked Phillip, stepping forward a little.
Logan leaned back in his chair, almost nonchalantly, as he waited for the reply.
MacFarland Senior regarded Logan carefully. Eventually he said, "It's a pity you know so much."
"Yeah?" questioned Logan sarcastically. "Like how you trained your little force at Morristown, and how Buddy Franklin, alias Theodore Durant arranged for the murder of the camp cook by Walter Zarb, who, by the way, is presently in police custody to face a murder charge."
Logan paused momentarily to check the effect of his words on MacFarland. The man looked suitably chastened.
"Then there was your rather glaringly bad judgement in allowing a government agency to bribe you into accepting their 'super soldiers' in return for agreeing to keep your mouth shut and letting Eyes Only take the rap for whatever particular 'sanitize the world' plan you had in mind. You really thought you could keep your attack on the Governor a secret?" he asked with something like scorn.
MacFarland considered Logan overall with dislike but coupled it with a hint of admiration. "It would appear your Uncle severely underestimated your capabilities," he remarked thoughtfully, "but then Jonas was always a fool in such matters."
"You will have observed by the timing of the attack that we did 'almost' achieve our objective in taking out the Governor," MacFarland added with almost a touch of pride.
"Well, I can see you're quite traumatized by the deaths of your comrades," added Logan with quick sarcasm, desperate to keep the older man's attention on him and not on the bed.
Apparently Logan's comment touched a raw spot, because MacFarland suddenly sprang forward at Logan, his hand raised to strike, when both sons reached forward and grabbed him.
Logan wheeled back instinctively, only to be brought up short by MacFarland's security chief, who savagely dug his gun hard into Logan's back between his shoulder blades with enough force to make him wince.
"You've got a real smart mouth, don't you?" growled Fleischer menacingly, making Logan think of Bob with more warmth than he had before. Being rescued by a dog suddenly seemed like a great idea.
"Put the gun down, Fleischer," said Byron, in the tone of one used to giving orders.
Fleischer looked across at his boss, waiting for his lead.
Logan felt the gun removed, and sat back, relaxing his shoulders, wondering why Phillip MacFarland kept surreptitiously looking at his watch.
"You haven't said what you intend to do with Logan and the others," Phillip said to his father.
"You don't need to bother yourself with that," the older man said dismissively.
"Yes – we do," countered Byron seriously.
"Do you want to see your father finish the rest of his days in jail? I'm sorry boys, I'm not happy about this situation either, but I'll do what has to be done," he finished grimly.
*******************************************************
Max had woken from the effects of the dart that had been fired into her by Fleischer in time to hear Logan give his condensed account of MacFarland's wrongdoings.
Her head hurt a little, and she had a strange taste in her mouth, but other than that, she felt okay.
The difficult thing was to open her eyes and assess the situation without being seen by Stuart MacFarland or the other man.
Thankfully, neither she nor Zack had been tied or handcuffed. It was now a case of waiting for the perfect opportunity.
She could sense Logan's intention of keeping the other man talking but she very nearly jumped up when she took a quick peek and saw MacFarland lunging at Logan, only to be held back by his sons.
Thankful for the attention Logan was purposefully keeping on himself, she waited and listened, aware that Zack's breathing had subtly changed in the last few minutes.
One of her hands lay on his knee, and she was able to very gently give him a warning pinch. She felt his knee move slightly in answer. Now, all they had to do was wait for the right time.
***********************************************************
"You intend to kill them?" asked Byron with horror. "What's happened to you?"
Apparently MacFarland found the look of disgust on his son's face disturbing, as he quickly looked away and shifted his attention back to Logan.
Logan stared up at him warily.
"You've turned both my sons against me?" MacFarland asked him in a tone Logan didn't like.
"At least I didn't sign their death warrants."
MacFarland looked at him with suspicion. "What are you talking about?"
"Do you think a government agency is gonna let you walk free with the knowledge that they came in on your deal in order to discredit Eyes Only?"
Logan saw the man's eyes widen slightly.
"No, they're gonna want you and your sons dead so that they can continue to perpetrate their lie."
The inevitability of his situation was not lost on Stuart MacFarland. He looked quickly across at his two sons, and to both of them it appeared as though their father had aged ten years in as many seconds.
Once more, Phillip consulted his watch, then quickly looked across at Logan, his eyes briefly meeting Logan's with an unspoken meaning.
Logan, sitting with both hands on the wheels of his chair, was aware of Fleischer still standing closely behind him.
"Father, there's something we need to tell you," said Phillip in an uneasy voice.
Logan didn't wait. It seemed the best opportunity he had.
As Stuart MacFarland turned his attention to his son, Logan quickly grabbed his wheels and propelled himself backwards as quickly and as hard as he could in the direction of Fleischer.
The security man was caught by surprise, but managed to save himself from falling backwards with a quick movement to the side that had him facing away from the bed
Max and Zack were up in a flash.
It only took Zack two blows to disarm MacFarland, while Max came up behind Fleischer and grabbed him around the neck with a hold that threatened to cut off his airway.
"Put the gun down or I snap your neck," she snapped through clenched teeth, focusing on applying the pressure.
Fleischer hesitated for a mere second, but on feeling the pain in his neck increase, he quickly dropped the gun at Logan's feet.
As Logan bent to pick it up, Max whispered in the ear of Fleischer, "By the way, you're a lousy waiter." To emphasize her point, she let loose of his throat, and delivered a vindictive karate chop to the back of his neck
As Logan sat up, he was mildly surprised to see Fleischer drop and hit the ground with a force that said it was going to be a while before he served wine again.
"Games up, MacFarland," said Max with relish, turning to the stunned man.
Unexpectedly, Byron rushed forward and turned on the TV.
One of Seattle's most well-known and respected journalists, Graham Macy, appeared on the screen.
Without preamble he said in his grave 'news reader' voice, "You are about to hear a phone interview I did a short while ago with Phillip and Byron MacFarland."
Stuart MacFarland swung to look at his sons, then as if he was under some sort of hypnotic trance, he turned slowly back to the screen in time to hear Macy say, "...called me to give their report on the events that have been happening the last week and to respond to the rumours that Eyes Only had gone on a vigilante-like crusade to eradicate corruption from our city."
Logan found himself staring very intently at the screen.
"This interview is unedited and will be heard in its entirety."
The voice of Phillip MacFarland could now be heard clearly on the line. "Graham, my brother and I have irrefutable evidence that Eyes Only has not been behind any vigilante movement. It has, in fact, been carried out by my father, Stuart MacFarland, who has misguidedly held the belief that he could diminish the pain of my mother's death by eradicating those who, in some way, contributed to it."
The silence in the motel room was almost tangible as they all watched enthralled, save Zack who continued to watch MacFarland, prepared for any contingency.
Byron looked at his father, saw the sunken look to his features and could bear it no longer. He reached forward and turned the TV off.
"Suffice it to say we told the whole story," he said quietly, "except the part about the super soldiers and the government involvement. We had no way of substantiating that," he said almost apologetically to Logan.
"You did this after I called you?" asked Logan with some amazement.
The brothers nodded, almost as one, as their father sank into one of the lumpy armchairs that were a far cry from the luxury leather ones of his mansion.
"It was the only way we could think of putting an end to all this," said Phillip bitterly, with a look towards his father. "We both realized we'd lost him."
Max stood beside Logan, trying to comprehend the selflessness of their action.
"We called a friend of ours who's a policeman. He'll be here in fifteen minutes," added Byron.
Logan looked at the both of them, not knowing for the moment what to say.
It was Zack who broke the silence. To Logan he said, "You know they'll come after them," nodding towards the brothers, "and they won't stop till they're dead."
Logan nodded grimly. "He's right unfortunately. Even though you haven't mentioned their involvement, the government agency your father was dealing with is absolutely ruthless in terms of protecting its secrecy."
Max urgently whispered in Logan's ear. "You could get them away, out of the country."
Logan studied their father. The man seemed to have completely collapsed with the revelation of the defection of his sons, and even worse, their denouncing of his plans. He was a dead man anyway, Logan reflected, either by Lydecker or by the slower death of a tormented conscience. Neither option appeared to be a pleasant one.
Surely his sons deserved better.
He knew Zack was right; they would never be safe in their own country, not for a long time at least.
"How much time do we have?" Max asked them.
"About ten minutes, I'd say," replied Phillip.
"I have contacts who can arrange to get you and Byron out of the country," said Logan.
He saw the other man's hesitation.
"I know neither one of you is entirely innocent, but I do know that you won't be allowed to live long enough to even make your trial."
At that, Phillip and Byron exchanged glances, and Phillip turned to Logan, nodding his agreement.
Both brothers studiously avoided looking at their father – it was as if he no longer existed.
"We'd better tie them up before we go," suggested Max.
Zack looked around and grabbed the cord from the faded and stained curtains, tossing one to Max and using the other to tie up MacFarland senior as Max did Fleischer.
Logan headed for the door and looked out. The parking lot was still deserted – it appeared as though sanity had prevailed and no one had checked in for the night.
Phillip and Byron stood near him, waiting for the signal to leave.
Logan felt he couldn't leave things unsaid. He knew he'd given both brothers the opportunity to escape, and instead they'd both chosen to put their lives at risk, and for what?
"Why didn't you leave?" he asked them mystified, turning his wheelchair to face them. "You didn't need to put your necks in a noose."
"We couldn't leave Max and Zack at the mercy of my father," said Byron in a surprised voice, "not after all you'd done for us."
"But why the interview?"
Phillip looked directly at Logan and said with great purpose, "We didn't want to see Eyes Only discredited - not when there's so much corruption out there still to expose."
"I guess you could call us 'fans'," put in Byron with a smile.
Logan looked up at them.
He opened his mouth about to make a flippant comment, then abruptly closed it as the enormity of what they left 'unsaid' slowly sank in.
For the moment, he was genuinely startled, eventually getting out, "Right," as a vague reply, and hoping it sounded like an appropriate remark, while his mind grappled with what he 'thought' they had meant.
Sensing Max behind him, he said quickly, glad to end the discussion, "We'd better go."
****************************************************
As the five of them waited at one of the sector checkpoints, a dry unemotional voice announced over the radio that Stuart MacFarland had been found in a motel on the outskirts of Seattle, and taken into custody.
TBC
Thanks once more for all those kind enough to review - you have made me very happy!!
And my thanks to Alaidh for the beta particularly when I know she's so busy!!!
Chapter 21
"Sorry. No one's allowed in ma'am."
Max stared up at the policeman with impatience.
"It's important we see Detective Matt Sung. We have an urgent message for him," she argued.
The burly policeman looked unmoved. "I have my orders."
Max turned to Zack with a look of frustration. Matt Sung was in there somewhere, and they couldn't get to him to warn him of the potential threat.
The security was tight at the Convention Center. Police covered all entrances, and passes had to be shown to gain access.
Zack looked at his watch, feeling the same pressure Max felt. "We've only got five minutes to go."
"There's gotta be a way in here somewhere," she responded, eyes scanning the building desperately. It was a four storey, modern edifice, opened some ten years earlier, just before the pulse hit. As such, it was designed for controlled conditions, not the vagaries of Seattle weather through open windows. The only way in would be to use one of the doors, or enter from the rooftop, and with the current level of security, that would be almost impossible.
They hadn't been permitted any closer than the entrance to the parking lot, where they still sat on Max's bike as they examined their options.
The parking lot was filled with official and expensive looking cars. Immediately in front of the Center itself was a television news van, the TV reporter apparently getting ready to do his broadcast.
The ringing of Zack's phone made Max turn and look at him as he took it out and answered. "Logan," he mouthed at her.
Max held her hand out imperatively for the device, which Zack gave to her after a moment's hesitation.
"Whatcha got?" she asked tersely.
"Governor's arriving by car at 8. I've checked the security feeds - nothing happening inside."
"That's it?"
"Best I can do," she heard him admit. "Security for this place is tighter than a drum."
"Tell me about it."
Without another word, she passed the phone back to Zack.
"We need some sort of diversion to get in there," she suggested, horribly aware of the time flying by.
More police had come out in preparation for the Governor's arrival, and the news team now had their cameraman out, the reporter furiously puffing on a cigarette, as if to finish it before the official car arrived.
"Let's park," said Zack. "If we're gonna try to get inside, we'll have to do it now."
Max nodded, driving back out to park on the side of the road. It was the closest they could get.
"We could try around the back while everyone's concentrating on the arrival out front," Max suggested.
Zack agreed with a nod. They had just gotten off the bike and were walking past the front of the building along the pavement in order to find a way around the side when the Governor and his entourage of two other cars arrived.
They stood barely fifty yards from the impressive entrance where the cars had stopped, when a black van came screeching into the driveway of the Convention Center, knocking down the security barricade and stopping suddenly by the governor's car, who had yet to get out.
Max watched the proceedings with a bad feeling, morbidly fascinated by the inevitability of the scene before her.
She now knew with certainty they had been too late.
The back doors of the van burst open as it stopped at the three official cars, revealing a dozen men who jumped out, flak jackets on, machine guns at the ready.
Their targets had no chance at all as the machine guns raked the vehicle relentlessly.
The news reporter, even though he had puffed so furiously earlier, had no opportunity to finish his cigarette. It fell from his bloody hand, hitting the ground mere fractions of a second before his lifeless body did.
Max saw the cameraman turn around, a look of terror on his face, but it was the only reaction he had time for.
The sound technician attempted to run to the news van for cover, but Max could see the bullet holes that formed a neat line the length of his back against his white shirt.
It was all ever in less than a minute.
She looked at Zack, trying to make sense of what she'd seen, but he grabbed her by the arm and stared with an intensity that frightened her.
Following his intent stare, she felt her own breath catch in her throat.
It was Donald Lydecker.
Instinctively they both shrank further into the shadow of the bush they were standing near, and watched as he deployed his soldiers.
One of them opened the door of the bullet-riddled TV van, and cautiously looked inside before entering.
Another man checked the bodies of the fallen reporter and cameraman. Max doubted very much they would ever pose a threat again.
The ringing of Zack's phone cut the now eerily quiet scene outside the Convention Center.
"Yeah," he spoke into it curtly.
"What's happening?" It was Logan.
"Just Lydecker up to his old tricks again," said Zack coldly, before handing it over to Max.
"Logan,"
"Max, you're okay?" She could hear the relief in his voice.
"I'm fine, but it turns out MacFarland has been sleeping with the enemy."
Max turned suddenly, surprised to see Zack slump to the ground. Within seconds, she had joined him.
A tall, silver haired man took the cell phone from her grasp, and held it up to his own ear, listening intently. When he heard no noise, he murmured into the device, "Logan Cale I presume?"
***************************************************************
Logan had furiously worked on hacking into the security for the Convention Center as soon as Max and Zack had left, checking Matt Sung's phone at regular intervals, but it continued to ring unanswered.
Eventually, he'd been able to access the security, but had found nothing suspicious or untoward, which he reflected, was exactly as he would have expected it – professionals don't leave glaringly obvious signs announcing their intentions.
He called Zack's number to pass on the only information he could find: the Governor's car would be arriving at 8pm.
Flicking through the security camera feeds, Logan missed the entrance of the black van as it swung into the driveway, but caught it as the men poured out of the back.
He watched with the same morbid fascination that Max and Zack had as he saw them open fire on the TV news van, reporter, cameraman and sound technician.
This was definitely not what he had expected.
Grabbing his cell, he quickly pressed re-dial, eyes glued to the screen as he waited the few seconds for Zack to pick up.
"What's happening?"
At the mention of Lydecker's name, Logan felt his mind reeling, then Max was on and all he could think of to say for the second was, "Max, you're okay." The thought of Lydecker's presence in the very area where he had sent her had filled him with a sense of dread.
Max's reply about MacFarland sleeping with the enemy came back clearly to him, and he was trying to ascertain in his mind the truth of the statement when another voice came on the line.
"Logan Cale I presume?"
Logan's gaze flew from the screen, wholly absorbed now in the voice that came over the phone. It was Stuart MacFarland.
Without hesitation he asked the question that concerned him most. "Where's Max?"
"Tell me where my sons are," the other man snapped back.
Logan's eyes focused on some point above his computer, but his mind was intent on processing the ramifications of MacFarland's words.
"I won't tell you anything until I know they're okay," Logan replied with a calmness he was far from feeling.
"For the moment they're fine, but their continued good health depends on you," the voice responded.
MacFarland spoke quickly now, with a deadly urgency. "I want my sons. Tell me where they are, and I'll meet you there."
"What's to stop you from killing my friends as soon as I give you the address," Logan spat back at him, one hand checking the security feeds in a desperate attempt to locate MacFarland, but the older man's next words brought his attention fully back to the phone.
"We have a gun aimed at the girls thigh. If you don't give me the address immediately, we will shoot her – left leg first, then right."
"No!" The single word sprang from his lips almost involuntarily.
"I'm counting to three," said MacFarland.
Logan gave him the address before he got to 'two'.
"You're a wise man. Meet us there if you want your friends back. Come alone and unarmed," MacFarland finished peremptorily, then hung up.
Logan took the phone from his ear and stared at it intently, as if somehow he would find inspiration there.
For a second his fear for Max's safety held him immobile, and a sickening feeling of guilt washed over him because her predicament was his fault.
His eyes went to the drawer where he kept his gun, and for a moment he hesitated, then making up his mind decisively, he picked up not the gun, but his cell phone, and pushed away from his computer, grabbing his car keys from the hall table as he headed for the door.
**************************************************************
With dismay, Logan saw a line of cars before him as he drove up to the sector checkpoint.
Looking at the clock on the dashboard, he estimated he still had another forty minutes to travel after this point to get to the motel that was located on the opposite side of town to where he lived. MacFarland, coming from the Convention Center, would be able to cover the distance in half that time. Logan could only hope that MacFarland faced a long line at the checkpoint he would have to pass through.
His eyes went to the cell phone that he'd tossed on the passenger seat when he'd got in the car.
He knew there was no excuse – he had more than ample time to call the MacFarland brothers while waiting at the checkpoint; he could give them the chance to get away, but where would that leave Max and Zack?
What would MacFarland do if his sons weren't at the motel when he arrived?
'I don't even know MacFarland's intentions,' he worried, knuckles white on the steering wheel as he watched the line of cars ahead of him refuse to move no matter how much he willed it. 'Maybe he intends to kill his sons as well?' his mind raced on with increasing pessimism.
The one thing he 'was' sure of was that Byron and Phillip had put their trust in him in exchange for the truth. No matter how difficult it was, he felt he simply couldn't let their father turn up on them unannounced.
He looked at the phone again, but it wasn't the face of the MacFarland brothers he saw in his mind.
Another car moved through the checkpoint. That left three in front of him.
Logan stared through the front windshield for several minutes, but his conscience was working overtime.
He picked up his cell.
**********************************************************
It was a good forty-five minutes later before Logan at last pulled up outside the motel.
The wait at the sector point had seemed interminable and it was only with a huge effort that he had managed to hang on to his quickly disappearing patience, which Bling could testify was never his strong point at the best of times, in order to not aggravate the sector police further.
Possibly because of the incident at the Convention Center, they were checking all vehicles with a fine-tooth comb. "Just as well I didn't bring the gun," he murmured under his breath as they did a disturbingly thorough check of the Aztek.
The only concession granted to Logan was, after some initial debate, he was allowed to remain in his car while it was being checked, unlike the other unfortunate people who had to stand about in the drizzling rain. He breathed a sigh of relief for the unexpected thoughtfulness of the sector cop on duty when time was so precious.
"Move on please, sir," said the sector cop, waving him through.
Barely noticing the unusually polite tone, Logan kept his thoughts well and truly focused on getting to the motel as he muttered a silent prayer that Stuart MacFarland had been delayed as well.
****************************************************
Finally the dismal lights of the motel appeared ahead, and he turned into the driveway, mentally promising that if they got out of this mess, he'd never subject Max to such a depressing fleapit again.
As soon as he stopped the car at the motel, a crack of light appeared in the doorway of the room where the two brothers were holed up, and a man came out and headed straight towards him. Logan, observing the gun the man held in his right hand, figured this wasn't a social visit.
"Is this how you greet all your guests?" Logan asked him as he opened his door.
"Just get outta the car," the man replied calmly. Logan had a feeling he'd heard that voice before, but it was too dark to see his face.
The man stayed at his back so Logan had to reach forward and open the door to the motel room, instinctively bracing himself for a blow to the head as he wheeled in. 'Happens that way in the movies,' he mused darkly.
Thankfully his skull remained intact, and the first person he saw was Stuart MacFarland standing in front of him, the gun in his hand pointed directly at Logan.
Max and Zack both lay in an unconscious heap on the double bed while Phillip and Byron stood to the right of their father.
Logan ignored the three MacFarlands and headed straight for Max, taking her wrist and quickly checking her pulse. With relief, he found it felt strong and steady, as was Zack's.
Logan then spun slowly back to MacFarland. "I kept my end of the bargain," he commented with a slight edge to his voice.
"I never thought you wouldn't," acknowledged the father.
"Looks like things didn't quite go to plan tonight at the Convention Center," Logan remarked disparagingly.
"How much of that was your doing?" MacFarland asked silkily.
Logan shook his head, asserting honestly, "I was as surprised as you when that went down ... if you were surprised," he added thoughtfully.
He could see MacFarland staring at him closely, as if to ascertain whether he were telling the truth or not.
"It did seem like an extreme way to prove your dissatisfaction with the media," Logan continued, as his mind pleaded insistently for Max to wake up.
"You're a real barrel of laughs," the man who had followed Logan in from the car, said derisively.
"And 'you' are clumsy serving wine," returned Logan evenly, remembering where he'd seen the man and wondering at the same time just how long he could keep the two of them talking.
"What do you intend to do with them, Father?" asked Phillip, stepping forward a little.
Logan leaned back in his chair, almost nonchalantly, as he waited for the reply.
MacFarland Senior regarded Logan carefully. Eventually he said, "It's a pity you know so much."
"Yeah?" questioned Logan sarcastically. "Like how you trained your little force at Morristown, and how Buddy Franklin, alias Theodore Durant arranged for the murder of the camp cook by Walter Zarb, who, by the way, is presently in police custody to face a murder charge."
Logan paused momentarily to check the effect of his words on MacFarland. The man looked suitably chastened.
"Then there was your rather glaringly bad judgement in allowing a government agency to bribe you into accepting their 'super soldiers' in return for agreeing to keep your mouth shut and letting Eyes Only take the rap for whatever particular 'sanitize the world' plan you had in mind. You really thought you could keep your attack on the Governor a secret?" he asked with something like scorn.
MacFarland considered Logan overall with dislike but coupled it with a hint of admiration. "It would appear your Uncle severely underestimated your capabilities," he remarked thoughtfully, "but then Jonas was always a fool in such matters."
"You will have observed by the timing of the attack that we did 'almost' achieve our objective in taking out the Governor," MacFarland added with almost a touch of pride.
"Well, I can see you're quite traumatized by the deaths of your comrades," added Logan with quick sarcasm, desperate to keep the older man's attention on him and not on the bed.
Apparently Logan's comment touched a raw spot, because MacFarland suddenly sprang forward at Logan, his hand raised to strike, when both sons reached forward and grabbed him.
Logan wheeled back instinctively, only to be brought up short by MacFarland's security chief, who savagely dug his gun hard into Logan's back between his shoulder blades with enough force to make him wince.
"You've got a real smart mouth, don't you?" growled Fleischer menacingly, making Logan think of Bob with more warmth than he had before. Being rescued by a dog suddenly seemed like a great idea.
"Put the gun down, Fleischer," said Byron, in the tone of one used to giving orders.
Fleischer looked across at his boss, waiting for his lead.
Logan felt the gun removed, and sat back, relaxing his shoulders, wondering why Phillip MacFarland kept surreptitiously looking at his watch.
"You haven't said what you intend to do with Logan and the others," Phillip said to his father.
"You don't need to bother yourself with that," the older man said dismissively.
"Yes – we do," countered Byron seriously.
"Do you want to see your father finish the rest of his days in jail? I'm sorry boys, I'm not happy about this situation either, but I'll do what has to be done," he finished grimly.
*******************************************************
Max had woken from the effects of the dart that had been fired into her by Fleischer in time to hear Logan give his condensed account of MacFarland's wrongdoings.
Her head hurt a little, and she had a strange taste in her mouth, but other than that, she felt okay.
The difficult thing was to open her eyes and assess the situation without being seen by Stuart MacFarland or the other man.
Thankfully, neither she nor Zack had been tied or handcuffed. It was now a case of waiting for the perfect opportunity.
She could sense Logan's intention of keeping the other man talking but she very nearly jumped up when she took a quick peek and saw MacFarland lunging at Logan, only to be held back by his sons.
Thankful for the attention Logan was purposefully keeping on himself, she waited and listened, aware that Zack's breathing had subtly changed in the last few minutes.
One of her hands lay on his knee, and she was able to very gently give him a warning pinch. She felt his knee move slightly in answer. Now, all they had to do was wait for the right time.
***********************************************************
"You intend to kill them?" asked Byron with horror. "What's happened to you?"
Apparently MacFarland found the look of disgust on his son's face disturbing, as he quickly looked away and shifted his attention back to Logan.
Logan stared up at him warily.
"You've turned both my sons against me?" MacFarland asked him in a tone Logan didn't like.
"At least I didn't sign their death warrants."
MacFarland looked at him with suspicion. "What are you talking about?"
"Do you think a government agency is gonna let you walk free with the knowledge that they came in on your deal in order to discredit Eyes Only?"
Logan saw the man's eyes widen slightly.
"No, they're gonna want you and your sons dead so that they can continue to perpetrate their lie."
The inevitability of his situation was not lost on Stuart MacFarland. He looked quickly across at his two sons, and to both of them it appeared as though their father had aged ten years in as many seconds.
Once more, Phillip consulted his watch, then quickly looked across at Logan, his eyes briefly meeting Logan's with an unspoken meaning.
Logan, sitting with both hands on the wheels of his chair, was aware of Fleischer still standing closely behind him.
"Father, there's something we need to tell you," said Phillip in an uneasy voice.
Logan didn't wait. It seemed the best opportunity he had.
As Stuart MacFarland turned his attention to his son, Logan quickly grabbed his wheels and propelled himself backwards as quickly and as hard as he could in the direction of Fleischer.
The security man was caught by surprise, but managed to save himself from falling backwards with a quick movement to the side that had him facing away from the bed
Max and Zack were up in a flash.
It only took Zack two blows to disarm MacFarland, while Max came up behind Fleischer and grabbed him around the neck with a hold that threatened to cut off his airway.
"Put the gun down or I snap your neck," she snapped through clenched teeth, focusing on applying the pressure.
Fleischer hesitated for a mere second, but on feeling the pain in his neck increase, he quickly dropped the gun at Logan's feet.
As Logan bent to pick it up, Max whispered in the ear of Fleischer, "By the way, you're a lousy waiter." To emphasize her point, she let loose of his throat, and delivered a vindictive karate chop to the back of his neck
As Logan sat up, he was mildly surprised to see Fleischer drop and hit the ground with a force that said it was going to be a while before he served wine again.
"Games up, MacFarland," said Max with relish, turning to the stunned man.
Unexpectedly, Byron rushed forward and turned on the TV.
One of Seattle's most well-known and respected journalists, Graham Macy, appeared on the screen.
Without preamble he said in his grave 'news reader' voice, "You are about to hear a phone interview I did a short while ago with Phillip and Byron MacFarland."
Stuart MacFarland swung to look at his sons, then as if he was under some sort of hypnotic trance, he turned slowly back to the screen in time to hear Macy say, "...called me to give their report on the events that have been happening the last week and to respond to the rumours that Eyes Only had gone on a vigilante-like crusade to eradicate corruption from our city."
Logan found himself staring very intently at the screen.
"This interview is unedited and will be heard in its entirety."
The voice of Phillip MacFarland could now be heard clearly on the line. "Graham, my brother and I have irrefutable evidence that Eyes Only has not been behind any vigilante movement. It has, in fact, been carried out by my father, Stuart MacFarland, who has misguidedly held the belief that he could diminish the pain of my mother's death by eradicating those who, in some way, contributed to it."
The silence in the motel room was almost tangible as they all watched enthralled, save Zack who continued to watch MacFarland, prepared for any contingency.
Byron looked at his father, saw the sunken look to his features and could bear it no longer. He reached forward and turned the TV off.
"Suffice it to say we told the whole story," he said quietly, "except the part about the super soldiers and the government involvement. We had no way of substantiating that," he said almost apologetically to Logan.
"You did this after I called you?" asked Logan with some amazement.
The brothers nodded, almost as one, as their father sank into one of the lumpy armchairs that were a far cry from the luxury leather ones of his mansion.
"It was the only way we could think of putting an end to all this," said Phillip bitterly, with a look towards his father. "We both realized we'd lost him."
Max stood beside Logan, trying to comprehend the selflessness of their action.
"We called a friend of ours who's a policeman. He'll be here in fifteen minutes," added Byron.
Logan looked at the both of them, not knowing for the moment what to say.
It was Zack who broke the silence. To Logan he said, "You know they'll come after them," nodding towards the brothers, "and they won't stop till they're dead."
Logan nodded grimly. "He's right unfortunately. Even though you haven't mentioned their involvement, the government agency your father was dealing with is absolutely ruthless in terms of protecting its secrecy."
Max urgently whispered in Logan's ear. "You could get them away, out of the country."
Logan studied their father. The man seemed to have completely collapsed with the revelation of the defection of his sons, and even worse, their denouncing of his plans. He was a dead man anyway, Logan reflected, either by Lydecker or by the slower death of a tormented conscience. Neither option appeared to be a pleasant one.
Surely his sons deserved better.
He knew Zack was right; they would never be safe in their own country, not for a long time at least.
"How much time do we have?" Max asked them.
"About ten minutes, I'd say," replied Phillip.
"I have contacts who can arrange to get you and Byron out of the country," said Logan.
He saw the other man's hesitation.
"I know neither one of you is entirely innocent, but I do know that you won't be allowed to live long enough to even make your trial."
At that, Phillip and Byron exchanged glances, and Phillip turned to Logan, nodding his agreement.
Both brothers studiously avoided looking at their father – it was as if he no longer existed.
"We'd better tie them up before we go," suggested Max.
Zack looked around and grabbed the cord from the faded and stained curtains, tossing one to Max and using the other to tie up MacFarland senior as Max did Fleischer.
Logan headed for the door and looked out. The parking lot was still deserted – it appeared as though sanity had prevailed and no one had checked in for the night.
Phillip and Byron stood near him, waiting for the signal to leave.
Logan felt he couldn't leave things unsaid. He knew he'd given both brothers the opportunity to escape, and instead they'd both chosen to put their lives at risk, and for what?
"Why didn't you leave?" he asked them mystified, turning his wheelchair to face them. "You didn't need to put your necks in a noose."
"We couldn't leave Max and Zack at the mercy of my father," said Byron in a surprised voice, "not after all you'd done for us."
"But why the interview?"
Phillip looked directly at Logan and said with great purpose, "We didn't want to see Eyes Only discredited - not when there's so much corruption out there still to expose."
"I guess you could call us 'fans'," put in Byron with a smile.
Logan looked up at them.
He opened his mouth about to make a flippant comment, then abruptly closed it as the enormity of what they left 'unsaid' slowly sank in.
For the moment, he was genuinely startled, eventually getting out, "Right," as a vague reply, and hoping it sounded like an appropriate remark, while his mind grappled with what he 'thought' they had meant.
Sensing Max behind him, he said quickly, glad to end the discussion, "We'd better go."
****************************************************
As the five of them waited at one of the sector checkpoints, a dry unemotional voice announced over the radio that Stuart MacFarland had been found in a motel on the outskirts of Seattle, and taken into custody.
TBC