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

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.

Steel Trap

Chapter 8

Logan awoke the next morning energized over the prospects of completing his Eyes Only mission. However, when he attempted to get out of bed and transfer into the chair, he still felt stiff and sore. He decided that some warm-up exercises and a hot shower were in order to loosen up his muscles; he didn't want to go to Pierpont Lempkin's party later feeling less than his best.

While he did modified sit-ups and crunches, he mentally composed his next cable hack, which he anticipated airing that afternoon – just in time to ruin Lempkin's evening.  He smiled to himself as he visualized the expression on Lempkin's face, first, when he heard the hack, and second, when his friends and business acquaintances mentioned it at the party.

Sets of curls seemed to ease the ache in his arms; lateral raises loosened his shoulder muscles; and dumbbell flies seemed to do wonders for his triceps. After about an hour of exercise, he headed into the bathroom for a shower

As he passed the sink on his way to the shower, he made the mistake of glancing in the mirror, and was horrified at what he saw. Eddie had certainly gotten his shots in, and Logan's face showed several purple bruises on his cheek, as well as a slightly swollen lip, where the Steelhead had connected. Damn! Logan thought, how am I going to explain these to Bennett? And Max.

*****

After a quick breakfast, Logan got back to the task at hand. He settled in front of the computer and unlocked the file drawer where he had stashed the files he had stolen from the mortuary. He opened the one he had saved from the previous evening – the one labeled "Far East Trading Company." As he perused it, he was glad that he had saved it, rather than poring through it the night before, because it appeared to contain just the information he was looking for. He retrieved one of the "Transactions" folders and opened it to a random date, then compared the transaction on that date, a payment for a kidney, to one in the new folder. In the "Far East Trading Company" file, there was a similar entry -- a payment to the company less 10 percent, of an identical amount. The notation next to it was KY.

Logan continued to compare files and found similar entries for every transaction. It looked like Eddie and Lux were acting as middlemen for Pierpont Lempkin and taking a cut of the profits. It was right there, in black and white. 

"Bingo!" he crowed to himself. "Gotcha!"

Logan couldn't believe that he'd hit the jackpot. How could they be stupid enough to keep hard copies of everything? On the other hand, he figured the system was clever enough because there were no computer files of transactions that he could find, and few people would have had the patience to ransack the mortuary's files for the information. It was sort of a "Purloined Letter" strategy – hide in plain sight.

He decided to make a copy of everything, then turn all the files over to Matt Sung. That way, even if the Seattle PD did nothing, he still had the goods on Lempkin, and Eyes Only would take him down. It would be a personal pleasure to do the job: Lempkin had eluded him – and justice – for too long.

*****

After Logan had made all the copies, he set up his equipment for the Eyes Only hack.  When he looked into the monitor, the face that looked back at him looked bruised. As far as he was concerned, that would be a dead giveaway – Eyes Only appearing onscreen bruised, and then him showing up later at Lempkin's with a swollen and discolored cheek. Damn Eddie! he said to himself.

He found the streaming video file that he used when he didn't want to do a live hack and copied it to another file. The broadcast began with the familiar invocation, "This is a Streaming Freedom Video Bulletin. The cable hack will last exactly sixty seconds. It cannot be traced, it cannot be stopped, and it is the only free voice left in this city.  As it rolled, Logan inserted the photos of Pierpont Lempkin under the Eyes Only banner. Once again, he turned on the mic. He settled himself, cleared his throat, and began the hack.  This is Pierpont Lempkin," he said as a photo of Lempkin streamed across the screen. "Successful businessman, entrepreneur, philanthropist— Pierpont Lempkin is socially prominent, hosting several charity events a year, including one tonight."

More photos streamed by, Lempkin at one of his factories, at his home in formal clothing, presenting a check to the head of a local charity. "But not all of his ventures are so high-minded. Eyes Only has traced an organ-smuggling operation, based here in Seattle, to Pierpont Lempkin. Organs that should be used for transplants here in the United States are being sold to the highest bidder, usually a clinic in China that has ties to Lempkin. The organs are brought here to Seattle, and middlemen complete the transactions. These middlemen turn the money over to Lempkin, after taking a percentage.

"Eyes Only has proof of these transactions. Pierpont Lempkin, for all his wealth and power, is a common thief and murderer, robbing the citizenry of much needed organs for transplants and causing many needless deaths.  He will pay for his crimes like the base criminal he is. This has been a Streaming Freedom Video Bulletin via the Eyes Only informant net. Peace. Out."

Logan leaned back in the chair and smiled. As soon as the satellite was in the proper position, he would send the hack. He checked the satellite feed times and found that the best time to uplink was shortly after 4 PM. Good, he thought. That gives me plenty of time to run my errands and still spoil Lempkin's day.

His work done for the time being, Logan grabbed his jacket and keys, and headed out the door to pick up his tux from the cleaners, and shop for some food for dinner the next day. He knew Max would be hungry. They had hit upon a solution of sorts to the virus problem, at least as far as meals were concerned. Logan kept an old set of plates, glasses, and silverware, left over from his marriage to Valerie, in a separate cabinet for Max to use. She placed all the used dishes in the dishwasher after a meal, and washed them separately at the highest temperature the washer could achieve.  Then, wearing gloves, she put them away after washing. It was a pain in the ass, but it worked, so Max was back, sharing dinner with him. It was like old times. Almost.

*****

It was just after 3 PM when Logan returned from his errands. He put away a couple of bags of groceries, thankful that he had hit the market at a good time, when there were plentiful supplies of vegetables and fresh meat. He went back down to the car, got the dry cleaning, and carefully hung up the tux in the closet. Then he impatiently waited for 4 PM.

He got the equipment all set up, turned on the small television that sat on top of the wine rack, and went over the hack once more to make sure he had said everything he wanted to say. Then he checked his watch again. It was time. Logan hacked into the satellite feed just after 4 PM. He uplinked the Eyes Only bulletin and hit ENTER.  After a momentary hesitation, a message flashed, indicating that the uplink had succeeded.  "Yes!" Logan hissed triumphantly.

He quickly wheeled into the dining room to see the bulletin. There was a college football game on the channel on which he had the television set. The halftime show was about to begin when the picture dissolved into the familiar red, white, and blue Eyes Only logo, and a disembodied, electronically distorted voice said, "This is a Steaming Freedom Video Bulletin…"

Logan watched with a smile as his latest handiwork flashed across the screen. When the hack was over, he phoned Matt Sung. When the detective answered, Logan could hear a television set in the background, indicating that Matt must have seen the hack.

"Hey, Matt. It's Logan."

"Yeah, Logan. Did you just see the latest Eyes Only bulletin?" Matt asked.

"Yes, that's why I'm calling you. I have the files on Pierpont Lempkin. Do you want to meet somewhere?"

"Sure. When and where?"

"Can you get away for a few minutes now? I'd like to get these to the Seattle PD as soon as possible."

"I've got a dinner break in 30 minutes. How about then? I can meet you at the park in Sector 4."

"Sounds good, Matt. I'll see you in 30." Logan hung up. He gathered the files, made sure he had copies of everything, and put them into a zippered portfolio, which he slipped into the backpack on the wheelchair. Then he grabbed his jacket, which he had flung over one of the dining room chairs, pocketed his keys, and left the penthouse.

*****

Matt Sung paced restlessly in front of the grandstand in the park. Behind him, a few teenagers listlessly threw a battered football back and forth. Matt rubbed his ungloved hands together for warmth, for there was a damp chill in the air. His expression changed from one of impatience to one of elation when he spotted Logan wheeling toward him.

"Hey, Logan, I was about to give up on you."

Logan looked at his watch. "Sorry, Matt. Overzealous sector cop. Decided that I was smuggling wheelchairs or something and went over the car with a magnifying glass."

"Yeah, well, sector police aren't picked for their smarts, just their enthusiasm for the job." Matt took in Logan's bruised face with a glance, and his eyes widened. "What happened to your face, Logan? You look like someone worked you over."

Logan thought quickly. "Took a fall the other day. Introduced my face to the coffee table."

"Haven't seen you sitting down for a while, either." He indicated the wheelchair with a hand gesture.

"The exoskeleton's in the shop for repairs," Logan replied. "It shorted out the other day – when I was wearing it. That's when I took the fall. Good thing I've got back-up." He touched the wheel rims for emphasis.

"So, what have you got for me?"

"Documentation on the local Steelhead organ smuggling ring that ties it directly to Pierpont Lempkin."

Logan reached into the pocket of the backpack and pulled out the portfolio and handed it to the detective. Matt unzipped the portfolio, pulled out the folders, and thumbed through one. He whistled. "Wow! How'd you get this?" he asked.

Logan laughed. "Believe me, Matt, you don't want to know. But it's all there in black and white. Files detailing the transactions; files showing payments to one of Lempkin's companies each time there was a transaction; dates, details. The police could have a field day with this."

"Well, let's hope they want to break up the ring and take out the top guy," Matt said. "We've been trying to stop the organ smuggling for years, but I'm not sure how this is gonna play at the top when I show the chief that one of Seattle's most prominent citizens is behind it all."

"If Seattle's finest don't want to take out the top guy, I'm sure that Eyes Only will be happy to oblige..." Logan looked up at Matt Sung.

Matt glanced knowingly at Logan. "I'm sure he would. But it would be a feather in the chief's cap if the PD actually got a major bad guy. I'll see what I can do. Now that Eyes Only's busted Lempkin publicly, it would sure be embarrassing if the police didn't follow up." Matt put the folders back in the portfolio and zipped it.

"Yeah, it would be. So, you don't think the chief is in Lempkin's pocket?"

"No, I don't, but we'll soon find out, won't we?" Matt checked his watch. "Gotta go. Thanks, Logan – and tell Eyes Only thanks for the information. I'll do my best to see it doesn't go to waste."

"I know you will, Matt. I'll catch ya later." Logan turned the chair around and headed back the way he had come. Matt Sung walked in the opposite direction toward his car. The kids on the field continued to throw passes.

*****

When Logan got back to the penthouse, he had barely an hour before Bennett arrived. He quickly stripped off his clothes and rolled into the shower. More of his muscle aches dissolved under the beating of the hot water. He towel-dried his hair, brushed his teeth, and headed for the bedroom to get dressed. 

He was wrestling with his bow tie when the bell rang. Glad for the distraction, Logan wheeled to the door and opened it. Bennett stood in the doorway, a big grin on his face. Then the grin slipped off and a horrified look replaced it.

"My God, Logan, what happened to you?" Bennett said with concern in his voice, looking down at Logan.

Logan had momentarily forgotten about the cuts and bruises he had incurred the previous night. Now he had to come up with a story – fast. Bennett didn't know about the exoskeleton, so the one he had told Matt Sung wouldn't work.

"Ah, basketball game got a little rough yesterday. I got dumped on my face," he lied, backing up to let Bennett enter.

"Geez, Logan. You guys play hard."

"Yeah, wheelchair basketball is not for pansies," Logan replied, laughing. "Come on in. I'm almost ready. Just trying to get this damn tie straight." He wheeled ahead of Bennett. "Make yourself comfortable.

"Knowing you, I thought maybe some jealous husband or boyfriend beat you up for poaching on his territory," Bennett said. Haven't had that problem lately," Logan replied with a wry laugh.

"Why, your poaching days are over because of your accident, or you've found yourself a girl?"

"The latter, sort of."

"Anyone I know?" Bennett raised an eyebrow.

"Um, Max, the girl I brought to your wedding. We're still…together."

"Logan, you dog. Ready to go?"

"Let me get my topcoat, then we can be off." Logan went back into his bedroom briefly, then returned with the topcoat across his knees. "All set."

They took the elevator down to the garage, where the Aztek was parked. Bennett took one look at it – the bullet holes across the side, the shot-out back window – and freaked.

"Logan, do I want to know what happened to your car?"

"Probably not.  Um, somebody shot it up last week as I was driving home...a random shooting."

"Well, we can't take that to Lempkin's party," Bennett declared.

"Why not?"

"Coz it looks like hell and every fancy society type will be there."

"As if I care about fancy society types," Logan said, wheeling toward the Aztek. He clicked the button on his keychain and unlocked the doors.

"You'll have to explain all night what happened. That'll be a pain in the ass. And people will be suspicious."

"Yeah, ya got a point there," Logan admitted.

"Let's take my car."

"I can't drive your car," Logan said. "It doesn't have hand controls."

"Why would you need to drive my car?" Bennett asked.

"Well, somebody's got to drive you home when you get sloshed..."

"Logan, I don't get sloshed."

"Every time I've been out with you, you've gotten sloshed..."

"Right. And the last time was my bachelor party, when everybody, including you, got sloshed," Bennett said. "I don't drink like my dad did. Nobody will have to drive me home." Bennett headed back toward the elevator. Logan locked the car doors again and followed him.

"Okay. We'll take your car – as long as it's not a sports car," Logan conceded.

"It's a respectable sedan. You shouldn't have any trouble getting in and out of it."

"Oh, God, respectable!" Logan sighed heavily so Bennett could hear him. "How low have I fallen?"

Bennett playfully swatted Logan on the back of the head. "Shut up. Let's go get my car.

They took the elevator back to the lobby, then went out the front door. Bennett had parked the Mercedes sedan in front of the building. He unlocked all the doors and opened the back door. Logan transferred into the passenger seat and took the wheels off the wheelchair. Bennett carefully stowed it in the back behind Logan. The he got into the car and they took off.

While Bennett chattered away, Logan sat in near silence. He was thinking about the confrontation with Pierpont Lempkin. He was looking forward to it.