Title:  THE STEEL TRAP

Disclaimer: Dark Angel is owned by Charles Eglee, James Cameron, and Fox. I claim no rights to these characters, alas, although I like to play with them.

Episode Reference:  Takes place immediately after Some Assembly Required

Rating: PG

Summary:  A Logan Cale, Man of Action fic, complete with Steelheads and major bad guys

A/N: This is for Alaidh, who requested another LCMOA fic from me. Thanks to my betas, Alaidh and Kasman, for their insight.

I live for reviews. You know what to do.

Chapter Four

As planned, Alec knocked on Logan's door at 6 a.m. the next morning. He wore a dark, hooded sweatshirt, black pants, and heavy boots, and had a small pack strapped to his belt. Logan opened the door and invited him in.

"Coffee?" he asked, wheeling into the kitchen and pouring a thermos bottle full. He too was clad in dark clothing.

"No thanks, not while I'm on a job," Alec said. He watched as Logan filled a backpack with his laptop, the digital camera, a pair of binoculars, and the thermos. Then Logan opened the desk drawer and pulled out his gun and a box of shells. He loaded the clip, made sure the safety was on, and pocketed the weapon, then put away the rest of the shells.

"Ready to go?" he said, rolling toward the front door.

"Uh, yeah," Alec said, following him. "You always carry a gun?"

"No, just when I'm going to do something dangerous. Don't you?"

"Sometimes. Didn't bring one this morning. Figured I'd rely on stealth and superior reflexes. I'll let you handle the heavy action." Alec laughed.

"Fine."

They rode the elevator down to the garage and got into the Aztek. Logan turned on the radio and tuned to a classic rock station. Once on the road, Alec dozed.

The sky was just beginning to lighten when Logan pulled up on the hill overlooking the warehouse where he thought the bus was stored. Alec was still asleep, so Logan leaned over and shook him awake.

"Alec," he whispered. "Alec, wake up."

"What?" Alec sat up so abruptly that he almost caused Logan to lose his balance. "Oh, OK."

"We're here. You ready?"

"Yep." Alec stretched and yawned.

"The bus is supposed to be stored here. The license number is STA-9823. The seat numbers are L 3 and 4. The bag I'm looking for is supposed to be in the overhead compartment."

"OK."

"There is one heavily armed guard that I was able to spot. He patrols hourly. I don't know about any other security – I didn't detect any."

"No problem. I've been trained to bypass any security," Alec bragged.

"Yeah, right. You and Zack. GI Joe, both of you," Logan commented. "Get going."

Alec took that as a command. He got out of the car and headed down the hill. In a minute, he had vanished from sight. Logan took out his binoculars and watched the building. He saw Alec reappear, tiptoeing toward a small, high window on the side of the warehouse. Alec crouched down and leapt right up to the window, grabbing the sill with both hands. He pulled himself up and stood on the ledge, then carefully raised the window and disappeared inside.

There was nothing to do now but wait. Logan poured himself a cup of coffee from the thermos and settled in. The guard passed by the warehouse door, stopped, and looked around. Logan held his breath. Then the guard resumed his rounds. Logan exhaled.

******

Inside the warehouse, Alec had managed to get down to the main floor. He crept through the rows of old Seattle Transit Authority buses, studying the serial numbers until he found the one he was looking for. He checked the folding doors of the bus and discovered that they were locked. "Rats!" he said in a whisper as he unzipped the pouch on his belt and selected a lock-picking tool.

"Is there a problem, Alec?" Logan asked into his earpiece.

"No," Alec replied in the same whisper. "The door's locked. No problem."

Within 30 seconds, he had picked the lock and had the door open. Silently, he made his way down the aisle, reading the seat numbers in the dim light. When he reached seats L 3 and 4, he stopped. Looking around surreptitiously, he determined that no one was in the warehouse to see his next actions. Alec stood up and opened the overhead compartment. Inside, as Logan had said, was a black ripstop nylon bag.

"I've found the bag," he said.

"Great. Now get out of there."

He pulled it out of the compartment and slung the strap over his shoulder. Then he crouched down again and crept out of the bus, closing the door after him.

Ten minutes later, he was on his way up the hill when the comm unit crackled in his ear. "The guard's coming around the corner. Get down!" Alec immediately sprawled on the damp grass, making himself as flat as possible. There he lay, barely breathing, for what seemed an eternity.

At last, Logan gave him the all-clear. Alec quickly scrambled up the hill and climbed into the Aztek. He shed the pack, shrugging out of it, and handed it to Logan. "Now I'll take some of that coffee," he said.

Logan poured a mugful from the thermos and handed it to him. "Here."

As Alec sipped the coffee gratefully, Logan unzipped the pack. Triumphantly, he pulled out a handful of computer disks. "Yes!"

"That's what you were looking for?" Alec queried.

"Oh, yeah. Hopefully, this will nail Pierpont Lempkin to the wall." Logan continued to rat around in the pack and extracted several wads of 100 dollar bills.

"Wow! How much money is that, anyway?" Alec asked, eyes wide at the size of the rolls of bills.

"I have no idea," Logan said. "But now it's a contribution to the Eyes Only Foundation."

Eagerly, Logan popped a disk into his laptop. He typed in the encryption codes and pressed ENTER. After a beep, the program began to run. As both men watched, rows upon rows of financial records scrolled across the screen.

"Oh, my God," Logan exclaimed.

"What?" Alec said, not knowing what he was watching.

"Pierpont Lempkin's financial records – of his not-so-legitimate businesses. My informant had told me that the data on these disks was important, but I didn't realize how important. Thanks, Alec. You've helped me take out a major bad guy." He shut down the program and popped the disk out. Carefully, he put it back in the pack and zipped it up. Then, with a smile on his face, Logan put the Aztek in gear and drove away from the warehouse. When he reached the garage of the apartment building, Alec hopped out.

"Gotta get to work," he said nonchalantly. "It's been fun. Call again when you have some more breaking and entering to do."

"Thanks again, Alec," Logan replied. He pulled the wheelchair from the back seat, popped on the wheels, and transferred into it. With the precious bag in his lap, he took the elevator back to his penthouse.

Half an hour later, armed with more hot coffee and a sandwich, Logan was back at the computer, examining the data on the disks. He was amazed at what he found, both in raw data and in the fact that Pierpont Lempkin actually kept it on disks in a safe. The encryption codes were all good, exactly as the informant had said.

The third disk had what he was looking for. There were extensive records, going back at least five years, of prices for smuggled organs. They were sold to various clients in China. There were even invoices for the organs. Logan traced the payments to middlemen, British Eddie included. It seemed that he and his buddies were making a tidy living as go-betweens and shippers.

Logan leaned back in satisfaction. He had the connection between the organ sellers and Pierpont Lempkin – Lux. Now he needed positive proof that the Steelheads were selling organs abroad as agents for Lempkin, and he needed to find the connection between Eddie and his crew and the people who actually extracted the organs, just to tighten the noose. Finally, he had to convince the media and the Seattle Police Department that a fine, upstanding citizen like Lempkin was actually making his money in such a nefarious way.

Logan spent the rest of the day at the computer, crunching data. It was outdated, about nine months old, but with the codes, and other information on the disks, he could hack directly into Lempkin's bank accounts. He was so excited by the prospect of finally taking Lempkin down that he completely forgot about eating until late that evening, when his stomach started to growl. Reluctantly, he shut down the program and took a break. He was stiff and he still ached from his bruised hip.

He wheeled into the kitchen and fixed himself a simple meal. Carefully placing a tray with his dinner and a bottle of beer on his lap, he went into the living room. He put the tray on the coffee table and stretched himself out on the couch in a sitting position. Unfolding the daily newspaper, he absently drank the beer.

Logan glanced through the paper, skimming articles to see if there was anything of interest to Eyes Only. He ate a few forkfuls of pasta. He was about to turn the society page over when a small article caught his eye. The headline read: Pierpont Lempkin to Host Charity Event. It seemed that said Mr. Lempkin was hosting a party and charity auction at his estate over the weekend. All the movers and shakers of Seattle society, as well as the rich and famous from elsewhere were slated to attend. Logan wondered what he would have to do to wrangle an invitation.

*****

He didn't realize how tired he had been until he awoke the next morning still stretched out on the couch. Groggily, he shook his head to clear it, stiffly transferred to the chair, and headed for a hot shower.

When he had changed clothes and had breakfast, Logan headed back to the computer. This time, he wanted to see if the guest list for Lempkin's party was online. After a frustrating hour and a half search, he finally found the list and scrolled through it. Several familiar names popped up, including his cousin Bennett's. That was a start. He picked up the phone and dialed Bennett's number.

The phone rang and rang, then finally clicked over to voice mail. Logan heard Bennett's voice telling him to leave a message.

"Hey, Bennett, it's Logan. I understand you got an invitation to Pierpont Lempkin's big do this weekend. Can you get me an invite? I've got some business with him. Call me back as soon as you can." He hung up the phone.

It immediately rang. Thinking it was Bennett returning his call, Logan picked up and said, "Hey, Bennett."

"Logan?" the voice wasn't Bennett's, but Matt Sung's.

"Oh, sorry, Matt. I was expecting a call from my cousin," Logan explained.

"I see. Look, Logan, I just called you to let you know that some of my guys jumped the gun and busted that Steelhead you gave me for selling steroids."

"Great," Logan said with more than a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. "I was hoping to nail him for something a lot more serious."

"It's okay. He made bail, so he's back out on the street. No harm done, I hope," Matt said, apologetically.

"Yeah, I hope. Thanks for the heads-up, Matt." Logan ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Um, just curious, Matt – who paid his bail?"

Logan could hear Matt shuffle papers. In a minute the reply came. "A Lucy Lempkin. Wonder if she's related to Pierpont Lempkin?"

"She's his kid sister. A Steelhead too, with an interesting police record here and in London. I think she's the mastermind of the gang."

"Hmm. I see. Well, it looks like Eyes Only is going to have fun with this one. Like I said before, Logan, be careful."

"I will."

"Good. Gotta go." Matt Sung hung up.

Logan hoped that British Eddie wouldn't connect him with the bust, but he had to take that chance and return to the market where the gang hung out. He needed to ingratiate himself enough to Eddie and the rest so the Steelheads would allow him access to their headquarters. Maybe he could find records there that would complete the connection he sought. He needed to know exactly where they hung out; entrances and exits; accessibility; communications setup; when they came and went, and if there was a pattern. Back in the day, he would have done the reconnaissance himself, but other than the fact that Eddie and his crew knew him, he wouldn't exactly be inconspicuous now. He would have to find an anonymous-looking accomplice to case the hangout. And he knew just the person.

It required another trip to Jam Pony, but it was a fine day and Logan needed the exercise. He grabbed his leather jacket and headed off.

*****

It was just before lunchtime and the messengers had begun to drift back to the office. Logan rolled down the ramp; greeted Normal, who gruffly acknowledged his presence; and headed for the lockers. Sketchy had his head stuck inside his locker, looking for something. He shut the metal door just as Logan approached.

"Hey, Logan, I still ain't seen Max," Sketchy said apologetically.

"I know, Sketchy. She's still out of town. I was looking for you. You got a minute?"

"Always. What's up?" Sketchy's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Um, is there somewhere private where we can talk?" Logan spoke softly.

"Yeah, I guess so." Sketchy looked around and realized that anywhere private in the warehouse involved stairs. "Maybe outside?"

Logan nodded and headed back the way he had come. They went outside and, side by side, crossed the street to a small park. When they were sufficiently clear of Jam Pony, Sketchy turned to Logan and, in a conspiratorial tone of voice, asked, "So, what's up, dude?"

"I've seen you handle a camera. You like to take pictures, right?" Logan asked.

"Yeah, trying to hone my skills so I can be a reporter for the New World Weekly."

"Ah, right, New World Weekly." Logan frowned. "You're a fan of Eyes Only, right?"

"Yeah, I dig the man. He is righteous," Sketchy declared.

"Well, how would you like to help him out on a little mission?"

"Wow! Me work for Eyes Only! Who do I have to kill?" Sketchy accurately lobbed a wad of old newspaper into a trashcan.

Logan laughed. "You don't have to kill anybody. As you may or may not know, I'm one of Eyes Only's informants…" he began.

"I thought so! Wow! That is so cool!" Sketchy was beside himself.

"… and I need someone to do a little reconnaissance…."

"I'm your man. Absolutely. What do I have to do?"

"I need you to follow the Steelheads to their headquarters and take pictures – I'll lend you the camera – and report back to me about the place. I want to know everything about it, as well as who goes in and out. It may take a couple of days hiding out and snapping photos."

"Okay! Can I wear a disguise? They beat me pretty good. Wouldn't want them to do it again."

"I understand. Yeah, a disguise would be good. Now, I don't want you to take any chances. If you got caught, I wouldn't be able to come after you…." Logan warned, turning the chair to face Sketchy.

"Not to worry, dude. I'll be careful. Nobody will see the Sketchmeister," Sketchy swore. "Wow, an Eyes Only mission! I don't suppose you can tell me what this is all about, can you? I'd like to be able to write up a sample article for the paper – 'I Was an Undercover Agent' or something like that."

"I can't tell you about it right now. When it's over, though, I promise I will," Logan said.

"Cool. This is gonna be great! When do we start?"

"You can start as soon as you clear it with Normal. I don't want you to lose your job over this."

"Eh, being a bike messenger is so lame. I don't care. I'll be ready first thing tomorrow. I am so excited!"

Logan had to laugh at Sketchy's enthusiasm. "OK. I'll meet you here tomorrow morning at nine."

Sketchy mock-saluted Logan. "Great, boss."

His errand done, Logan turned around to leave the park. As he wheeled away, Sketchy trotted over to catch up with him.

"I gotta ask you one question...."

Logan stopped, his hands on the rims of his wheels. "Yeah?"

"Um, I saw the hoverdrone film of you being ambushed a couple of years ago. Did you get hurt on an Eyes Only mission?"

"Yeah, Sketchy, I did." Logan looked down and rubbed his thighs.

"Wow, that is so cool!" Sketchy blurted out, then realized what he had said, and tried to recover. "I mean, it's not cool that you got hurt...just that you...went back to working for Eyes Only after all that..." he stumbled.

"It's okay, Sketchy," Logan said, a tight smile on his face. "I understand what you're saying."

"Anyway, I'll catch ya at nine tomorrow, Logan. And thanks."

They parted, and Logan went back to his apartment, wondering if he had done the right thing in asking Sketchy to help. Well, he decided, he'd find out the next day.

End of Chapter 4