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. AND special thanks to Wyldegod for his invaluable help with the fight scene.
I live for reviews. You know what to do.
Steel Trap
Chapter Seven
Thanking the fates that he had decided to use the highly maneuverable sports chair, Logan spun around and headed back into the office. Just as the back door opened, he closed the office door behind him and clicked off the flashlight. He dared not even lock his brakes, lest the sound alert the Steelhead. Sitting against the door in the dark, Logan could hear voices on the other side.
"Oy! Do you know where you put it?" yelled an accented voice in the distance. British Eddie.
"Yeah," another voice, this time from inside the building, answered. It sounded like Tuck, the big, black Steelhead. "I'll find it."
Logan heard Tuck move some furniture, probably chairs, around on the other side of the door. There was a loud scraping squeal as he pushed a table aside.
"Got it!" Tuck shouted triumphantly, pushing the furniture back into place. A few minutes later, the door opened again, then shut with a slam.
Logan squeezed his eyes tightly shut and let out a breath. He unchambered the round and slipped the safety back on, before putting the gun back in his pocket. After transferring the files from inside his jacket to the backpack on his chair, he waited another five minutes, then cautiously opened the office door.
The mortuary was dark and silent once more. Logan again left the office and made his way through the building, the Maglight in his lap. He listened at the back door before opening it, but heard nothing. He opened the door and silently slipped through to the outside.
The night had turned colder and wetter, making the ramp a bit slippery. Logan skidded down it and landed on the street with a small thump. He turned to head back to the car when a voice stopped him cold.
"Oy! What the 'ell are you doing?" British Eddie emerged from the shadows of a dumpster, cigarette in one hand. His eyes glowed like a feral animal in the dim light of a street lamp as he walked toward Logan.
"I, uh, was looking for you. A - friend of mine wanted some 'andy.' I was in the neighborhood, so." Logan grinned sheepishly.
"Yeah, right," Eddie said skeptically. "Sorry, mate, but nobody's just 'in the neighborhood' around here after dark. Ain't safe, you know." He eyed Logan up and down, a suspicious expression on his face. "Now, why are you *really* here?"
"Ah, ya got me," Logan admitted, taking his hands off the wheel rims and turning them palms up. "I was just casing the place so I could rob it later on."
"I wouldn't be surprised. You strike me as a crazy bugger. Besides, if you just arrived a few minutes ago, you'd have met up with me mate, Tuck. And he didn't mention seeing you." Eddie tossed the cigarette away, and put one hand in his jacket pocket.
Logan shrugged his shoulders. "What can I say?"
"Now, I admit, Tuck's a bit dim, but he ain't *that* dim. He'd notice a bloke in a wheelchair waiting on 'is doorstep. So, why don't you try again?" Eddie was nearly on top of Logan, leaning over him menacingly. He took his hand out of his pocket and held up a switchblade. With a flick, the blade was exposed, glinting briefly beneath the street lamp.
"Ah, hate to tell you this, but the last guy who pulled a knife on me died with it in his gut," Logan commented, as calmly as he could, looking up at Eddie.
"Yeah? Izzat so? What you gonna do? Run over me toes with that thing?" Eddie leaned down farther, the blade of his shiv at Logan's throat. Logan knew that Eddie was too close for him to use his gun; by the time he got it out of his pocket, Eddie could slit his throat. He also figured that he would have to kneecap Eddie somehow to bring him down to his own level. As long as Eddie was standing, *he* would have the advantage.
Drawing in a breath, Logan quickly pulled backward on his left wheel, which drew his neck away from Eddie's blade. He - narrowly missed Eddie's slash at his throat. The Steelhead was quick, and came directly at Logan, swinging back along his arc with the blade. Logan ducked forward, locking his brakes in the movement, avoiding British Eddie's second attempt to slash him.
"Cheeky bastard!" Eddie growled. Logan sat up again, narrowly escaping a downward slash from Eddie, but sustaining a nick to his neck. The Steelhead pitched forward just enough for Logan to deliver a powerful uppercut square into Eddie's chin. The punch sent Eddie reeling backward three or four steps, and this time, Logan unlocked his brakes and followed Eddie across the street toward the dumpster.
Logan rolled right into Eddie's legs, using his knees as a battering ram. Eddie howled and began to crumple as Logan's unfeeling knees smashed into his, but he swung the blade back toward Logan. Leaning forward to maintain balance, Logan reached up with both hands to catch the arm with the blade. Eddie didn't waste the opportunity, punching Logan hard in the face several times as he wrestled with the weapon. The force of the blows would have sent Logan tumbling out of his chair, but his grip on Eddie's wrist kept him in the fight.
Logan held Eddie's blade hand in the iron grip of his own strong left hand. Eddie pulled back for another blow, and Logan seized the moment, delivering a very hard shot into Eddie's solar plexus. The Brit immediately began to gasp, and Logan barely felt the shot to his head. Using his right hand to block another punch, Logan's defensive push sent Eddie's arm outward. He then had the extension he needed to fire his own volley of quick, sharp punches into the Steelhead's face.
Eddie, stunned from the blows to his left cheek, tried to stand up and reorganize his attack, but Logan still held his wrist with blade in hand. Logan reached to the opposite brake with his right hand and locked the wheel, quickly pulling on the right wheel to spin out and away from Eddie. Using the leverage from the maneuver, Logan pulled downward, yanking the switchblade from Eddie's hand, and sinking it deep into the Brit's leg, just above his thigh. He used his right arm again, this time pulling Eddie forward and pitching him head over ass onto the street. Eddie crashed hard onto the small of his back, winded.
The Steelhead had underestimated Logan's upper body strength, seeing the chair as a weakness. Eddie's body sprawled on the wet, dirty street. He was gasping for breath and clutching at his leg where the blade had sunk deep.
Logan leaned forward in his chair and looked down on the winded Steelhead. "You know, I warned you," he said. "Consider yourself lucky." He used his forward momentum to punch downward, squarely into the middle of Eddie's face. The punch sent Eddie's head hard into the pavement, and the dual blow knocked him unconscious. Once Eddie was incapacitated, Logan hauled out of there as fast as he could, once again thankful for the speed and maneuverability of the sports chair. He didn't even look around to see if Eddie's henchmen were anywhere to be found. He got to the car, transferred into it quickly, disassembled the chair, stuffed it behind the seat, and took off.
*****
Back at his apartment, Logan finally felt able to breathe. He got out of his damp burglar's clothes, showered off the blood and grime from his altercation with Eddie, and checked the nick on his neck to see how bad it was. It only required some antibiotic cream and a band-aid. Then he changed into sweatpants and a sweater. He couldn't decide whether he wanted coffee or a drink, so he compromised by making himself a strong cup of coffee, into which he poured a jigger of whiskey. Hunger finally got the better of him, so he heated up some leftovers and settled down at his desk to go over the files he had retrieved.
He had just begun to peruse the first one when the phone rang. The caller ID indicated an unknown number. He let it ring. When the caller began to leave a message, he recognized Max's voice, so he turned off the answering machine and picked up the phone.
"Hey," he said in greeting.
"Hey yourself," Max replied. "Thought for a minute you weren't there."
"Sorry. Didn't recognize the number, so I thought I'd let the machine pick up the message. I was working on something."
"You're *always* working on something, aren't you?" Max's tone of voice indicated to Logan the eye roll that she was doing.
"Yeah, well, you know.. So, how's Zack?"
"He's doing okay. Seems to be fitting in. Buddy's been so kind to him. I think Zack's actually enjoying farm life."
"I'm glad to hear that." Logan's voice was sincere. He might have considered Zack a rival at one time, but he knew that Max had made her choice.
"Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I'll be home Sunday."
"Great. I'll have dinner ready. Gotta feed a hungry female, right?" Logan joked, thankful that she hadn't called an hour ago.
"So, whatcha been up to?" Max asked.
"Not much. Just working on a case with Matt." *Well, that much was true,* Logan thought.
"Okay. Just keep out of trouble," Max admonished, as if she knew what he'd been up to.
"Yes, Mom."
"Well, gotta go. Some one's waiting to use the pay phone. I'll see ya Sunday."
"Yeah, see ya Sunday," Logan said.
Max hung up, leaving Logan to his project once again.
Once again, he opened the first folder, labeled "Transactions, 2019" and perused it. His eyes grew wide as he realized the scope of the operation. The Steelheads in Seattle were just a small part of the organ smuggling business; apparently there were similar operations up and down the West Coast. All of them reported to Lux.
The "Transactions 2020" and "Transactions 2021" folders revealed similar information. The going rate for a healthy heart was half a million dollars, cash. Kidneys and lungs went for a quarter of a million each. Other organs brought lesser amounts. When Logan added up the amounts of the individual transactions, the totals were in the twenty to twenty-five million dollars per year range. *No wonder Lempkin can afford to be so generous with his charitable contributions,* Logan thought grimly.
The Steelheads had steady partners too, it seemed. The list of regular customers comprised dozens of hospitals and clinics in the Orient. Logan suspected that most of them would be appalled if they knew how the organs had been obtained. The whole thing was beginning to resemble an old Boris Karloff horror movie Logan had seen when he was a kid, one based on true events in 19th century Edinburgh, **The Body Snatchers.** He shivered at the memory of a small child hiding under the covers, peeking out every now and then to watch the black and white film with morbid curiosity.
Looking at his watch and realizing how late it was, Logan decided to save the folder labeled "Far East Trading Company" until the next morning. Somehow, he felt that folder was the key that would tie the whole operation to Lempkin and give him enough information for his next Eyes Only hack. He locked the folders in one of his file drawers and closed down the computers.
Back in his bedroom, Logan shed his clothes, and stiff and sore from his adventures in burglary and dirty street fighting, he transferred into bed. He took off his glasses, turned out the light, and was asleep about the time his head hit the pillow.
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. AND special thanks to Wyldegod for his invaluable help with the fight scene.
I live for reviews. You know what to do.
Steel Trap
Chapter Seven
Thanking the fates that he had decided to use the highly maneuverable sports chair, Logan spun around and headed back into the office. Just as the back door opened, he closed the office door behind him and clicked off the flashlight. He dared not even lock his brakes, lest the sound alert the Steelhead. Sitting against the door in the dark, Logan could hear voices on the other side.
"Oy! Do you know where you put it?" yelled an accented voice in the distance. British Eddie.
"Yeah," another voice, this time from inside the building, answered. It sounded like Tuck, the big, black Steelhead. "I'll find it."
Logan heard Tuck move some furniture, probably chairs, around on the other side of the door. There was a loud scraping squeal as he pushed a table aside.
"Got it!" Tuck shouted triumphantly, pushing the furniture back into place. A few minutes later, the door opened again, then shut with a slam.
Logan squeezed his eyes tightly shut and let out a breath. He unchambered the round and slipped the safety back on, before putting the gun back in his pocket. After transferring the files from inside his jacket to the backpack on his chair, he waited another five minutes, then cautiously opened the office door.
The mortuary was dark and silent once more. Logan again left the office and made his way through the building, the Maglight in his lap. He listened at the back door before opening it, but heard nothing. He opened the door and silently slipped through to the outside.
The night had turned colder and wetter, making the ramp a bit slippery. Logan skidded down it and landed on the street with a small thump. He turned to head back to the car when a voice stopped him cold.
"Oy! What the 'ell are you doing?" British Eddie emerged from the shadows of a dumpster, cigarette in one hand. His eyes glowed like a feral animal in the dim light of a street lamp as he walked toward Logan.
"I, uh, was looking for you. A - friend of mine wanted some 'andy.' I was in the neighborhood, so." Logan grinned sheepishly.
"Yeah, right," Eddie said skeptically. "Sorry, mate, but nobody's just 'in the neighborhood' around here after dark. Ain't safe, you know." He eyed Logan up and down, a suspicious expression on his face. "Now, why are you *really* here?"
"Ah, ya got me," Logan admitted, taking his hands off the wheel rims and turning them palms up. "I was just casing the place so I could rob it later on."
"I wouldn't be surprised. You strike me as a crazy bugger. Besides, if you just arrived a few minutes ago, you'd have met up with me mate, Tuck. And he didn't mention seeing you." Eddie tossed the cigarette away, and put one hand in his jacket pocket.
Logan shrugged his shoulders. "What can I say?"
"Now, I admit, Tuck's a bit dim, but he ain't *that* dim. He'd notice a bloke in a wheelchair waiting on 'is doorstep. So, why don't you try again?" Eddie was nearly on top of Logan, leaning over him menacingly. He took his hand out of his pocket and held up a switchblade. With a flick, the blade was exposed, glinting briefly beneath the street lamp.
"Ah, hate to tell you this, but the last guy who pulled a knife on me died with it in his gut," Logan commented, as calmly as he could, looking up at Eddie.
"Yeah? Izzat so? What you gonna do? Run over me toes with that thing?" Eddie leaned down farther, the blade of his shiv at Logan's throat. Logan knew that Eddie was too close for him to use his gun; by the time he got it out of his pocket, Eddie could slit his throat. He also figured that he would have to kneecap Eddie somehow to bring him down to his own level. As long as Eddie was standing, *he* would have the advantage.
Drawing in a breath, Logan quickly pulled backward on his left wheel, which drew his neck away from Eddie's blade. He - narrowly missed Eddie's slash at his throat. The Steelhead was quick, and came directly at Logan, swinging back along his arc with the blade. Logan ducked forward, locking his brakes in the movement, avoiding British Eddie's second attempt to slash him.
"Cheeky bastard!" Eddie growled. Logan sat up again, narrowly escaping a downward slash from Eddie, but sustaining a nick to his neck. The Steelhead pitched forward just enough for Logan to deliver a powerful uppercut square into Eddie's chin. The punch sent Eddie reeling backward three or four steps, and this time, Logan unlocked his brakes and followed Eddie across the street toward the dumpster.
Logan rolled right into Eddie's legs, using his knees as a battering ram. Eddie howled and began to crumple as Logan's unfeeling knees smashed into his, but he swung the blade back toward Logan. Leaning forward to maintain balance, Logan reached up with both hands to catch the arm with the blade. Eddie didn't waste the opportunity, punching Logan hard in the face several times as he wrestled with the weapon. The force of the blows would have sent Logan tumbling out of his chair, but his grip on Eddie's wrist kept him in the fight.
Logan held Eddie's blade hand in the iron grip of his own strong left hand. Eddie pulled back for another blow, and Logan seized the moment, delivering a very hard shot into Eddie's solar plexus. The Brit immediately began to gasp, and Logan barely felt the shot to his head. Using his right hand to block another punch, Logan's defensive push sent Eddie's arm outward. He then had the extension he needed to fire his own volley of quick, sharp punches into the Steelhead's face.
Eddie, stunned from the blows to his left cheek, tried to stand up and reorganize his attack, but Logan still held his wrist with blade in hand. Logan reached to the opposite brake with his right hand and locked the wheel, quickly pulling on the right wheel to spin out and away from Eddie. Using the leverage from the maneuver, Logan pulled downward, yanking the switchblade from Eddie's hand, and sinking it deep into the Brit's leg, just above his thigh. He used his right arm again, this time pulling Eddie forward and pitching him head over ass onto the street. Eddie crashed hard onto the small of his back, winded.
The Steelhead had underestimated Logan's upper body strength, seeing the chair as a weakness. Eddie's body sprawled on the wet, dirty street. He was gasping for breath and clutching at his leg where the blade had sunk deep.
Logan leaned forward in his chair and looked down on the winded Steelhead. "You know, I warned you," he said. "Consider yourself lucky." He used his forward momentum to punch downward, squarely into the middle of Eddie's face. The punch sent Eddie's head hard into the pavement, and the dual blow knocked him unconscious. Once Eddie was incapacitated, Logan hauled out of there as fast as he could, once again thankful for the speed and maneuverability of the sports chair. He didn't even look around to see if Eddie's henchmen were anywhere to be found. He got to the car, transferred into it quickly, disassembled the chair, stuffed it behind the seat, and took off.
*****
Back at his apartment, Logan finally felt able to breathe. He got out of his damp burglar's clothes, showered off the blood and grime from his altercation with Eddie, and checked the nick on his neck to see how bad it was. It only required some antibiotic cream and a band-aid. Then he changed into sweatpants and a sweater. He couldn't decide whether he wanted coffee or a drink, so he compromised by making himself a strong cup of coffee, into which he poured a jigger of whiskey. Hunger finally got the better of him, so he heated up some leftovers and settled down at his desk to go over the files he had retrieved.
He had just begun to peruse the first one when the phone rang. The caller ID indicated an unknown number. He let it ring. When the caller began to leave a message, he recognized Max's voice, so he turned off the answering machine and picked up the phone.
"Hey," he said in greeting.
"Hey yourself," Max replied. "Thought for a minute you weren't there."
"Sorry. Didn't recognize the number, so I thought I'd let the machine pick up the message. I was working on something."
"You're *always* working on something, aren't you?" Max's tone of voice indicated to Logan the eye roll that she was doing.
"Yeah, well, you know.. So, how's Zack?"
"He's doing okay. Seems to be fitting in. Buddy's been so kind to him. I think Zack's actually enjoying farm life."
"I'm glad to hear that." Logan's voice was sincere. He might have considered Zack a rival at one time, but he knew that Max had made her choice.
"Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I'll be home Sunday."
"Great. I'll have dinner ready. Gotta feed a hungry female, right?" Logan joked, thankful that she hadn't called an hour ago.
"So, whatcha been up to?" Max asked.
"Not much. Just working on a case with Matt." *Well, that much was true,* Logan thought.
"Okay. Just keep out of trouble," Max admonished, as if she knew what he'd been up to.
"Yes, Mom."
"Well, gotta go. Some one's waiting to use the pay phone. I'll see ya Sunday."
"Yeah, see ya Sunday," Logan said.
Max hung up, leaving Logan to his project once again.
Once again, he opened the first folder, labeled "Transactions, 2019" and perused it. His eyes grew wide as he realized the scope of the operation. The Steelheads in Seattle were just a small part of the organ smuggling business; apparently there were similar operations up and down the West Coast. All of them reported to Lux.
The "Transactions 2020" and "Transactions 2021" folders revealed similar information. The going rate for a healthy heart was half a million dollars, cash. Kidneys and lungs went for a quarter of a million each. Other organs brought lesser amounts. When Logan added up the amounts of the individual transactions, the totals were in the twenty to twenty-five million dollars per year range. *No wonder Lempkin can afford to be so generous with his charitable contributions,* Logan thought grimly.
The Steelheads had steady partners too, it seemed. The list of regular customers comprised dozens of hospitals and clinics in the Orient. Logan suspected that most of them would be appalled if they knew how the organs had been obtained. The whole thing was beginning to resemble an old Boris Karloff horror movie Logan had seen when he was a kid, one based on true events in 19th century Edinburgh, **The Body Snatchers.** He shivered at the memory of a small child hiding under the covers, peeking out every now and then to watch the black and white film with morbid curiosity.
Looking at his watch and realizing how late it was, Logan decided to save the folder labeled "Far East Trading Company" until the next morning. Somehow, he felt that folder was the key that would tie the whole operation to Lempkin and give him enough information for his next Eyes Only hack. He locked the folders in one of his file drawers and closed down the computers.
Back in his bedroom, Logan shed his clothes, and stiff and sore from his adventures in burglary and dirty street fighting, he transferred into bed. He took off his glasses, turned out the light, and was asleep about the time his head hit the pillow.