DISCLAIMER: Still not mine, darn it.

THANKS TO everyone for keeping me at this–I was the one on the playground who'd do or try anything, once goaded. My honest appreciation to those of you out there who keep egging me on. I couldn't wait to keep it going...

FOGLE TOWERS, 9:25 PM

Logan switched the oven to "off" from the "warm" setting he'd had on since 8:00. The knot in his stomach was in full twist mode now, and he rolled forward to blow out candles that threatened to spill wax over the table. Knowing it was pointless, he nonetheless lifted the phone to punch in Max's number and page her one more time...

What possible reason had he had for letting Max walk out of here this morning? How the hell didn't he see this? No; how the hell did he not act on what he'd seen from the start? He'd known, deep down, that she wouldn't wait to set off to find Jondy, and wondered if he possibly could have thought that it was more important to track the clerk at the commission or try to throw together some lame hack about elected officials draining off government funds. It wasn't as if everyone didn't already know it was happening...

And it didn't work to tell himself that Max could take care of herself and had been in worse scrapes than this. She wasn't herself, so thrown by recent days with Zack. And if he were right and the only ones who could have known about her were Manticore-related, then she'd be facing those who knew exactly what she could do...and exactly what methods might overcome her obvious advantages. They certainly knew precisely which buttons to press to get her there...

And to make matters worse–he wasn't sure of the address. He agonized over his colossal stupidity in not paying better attention, or writing it down, or committing it to memory before she'd grabbed it back. After all, that was by far his biggest "clue"–it would have told him straight out where to find her. He remembered the street name, but it was a long one with several large, abandoned buildings, any number of which had rabbit-warrens of room and cubbies where one could hide--and he was pretty sure not all would have shiny, working elevators.

He knew he had to find her but was at a loss to know how. He wasn't getting anything done here, so grabbed a jacket–and his gun and some ammunition–and stuck his keys in his pocket. He thought about going to Crash to see if she were there –then admitted to himself that he knew she wasn't, but that he'd be going to see if Original Cindy was there and could tell him anything. Any qualms he'd felt in the past about braving the noisy, lively bar were forgotten, as it was the most likely place he could find those who'd last seen her...

He closed his eyes involuntarily at the turns of phrase so often used in his profession... "last seen by......last seen wearing cropped black pants and dark red jacket..."

He had to stop this. He wasn't going to get anywhere, especially when he had so little to go on, by panicking, and he didn't know for certain if she'd gone, or if it were a trap...

The snort of derision he aimed at himself couldn't drown out the loud crack of the metallic brakes he released angrily. Oh, he knew...he'd never thought otherwise...

CRASH

It was harder to negotiate the crowded bar once inside than it had been to get there. The back, street level entrance that allowed his chair access emptied right up near the pool tables and make-shift dance floor, so the throngs around him on their feet made it impossible to see anyone past the bodies bumping up close to him...he fought through the crowd slowly, wondering if there was any point or if he were just wasting time better used to find Max...

Until he spotted Original Cindy, his sense of irony noting she was up on a floor a half-level above where he sat, unassailable to anyone on wheels. He waited, watching closely to catch her eye. It wasn't too long– one of the good points of sticking out like a sore thumb, he supposed–and waved her over.

"Hey, what's up, sugah?" Original Cindy seemed to have no sense that there was a problem. "What are you doin' here?"

"I'm looking for Max–or to see if you know where I can find her..."

Cindy frowned, "Well, yeah, she said she got an invitation to a cousin's wedding–she said you knew all about it" Cindy frowned.

"...oh-- I did-- but I thought she was planning to wait 'til tomorrow." He temporized.

"Well, you know Max–she probably would prefer to ride at night. A little dark wouldn't stop her."

He did know her–and he was sick with worry and guilt that he'd let her go, that he didn't go with her. Of course she wouldn't wait even another minute to look for her sister...he should have dropped everything to go with her, and now he was wasting time with little clue how to find her...

"Hey, boo" Original Cindy frowned at the pale features on the handsome face. "You don't look too hot–it's not Max's taking off, is it? What's going on that neither of you have said?" She rocked back on a heel. "She said she might be gone overnight, but I can't imagine that's enough to make you look that worried."

Logan shook himself to look up at her determined expression, but was too wrapped up in his concern to come up with much. While Max trusted Original Cindy as much as she did him, she hadn't told Cindy anything to let her think that Max was anything but a "regular girl." He couldn't violate Max's trust, but Cindy would press... "No, I just...uh..." Think, Logan, he breathed to himself. "I'd just heard that the sector police were clamping down tonight and tomorrow, and wanted to be sure she knew..."

Cindy looked relieved. "Come on, sugah, Max has the po-po wrapped so tight around her pretty little finger that they'd give her an escort." Original Cindy could completely believe that a rich boy like Logan didn't know the ins and outs of hassling with the cops and, if he did, he could fix it with money– or even that friend of his, the detective she'd met when they had his help to get Max out of jail. "Oh, but look–"Cindy remembered, "she did leave a note with me with me this morning on her way out, for you. I guess she thought you might be lookin' for her." At that, Cindy suddenly wondered why that sounded suspicious. But seeing the hope leap in Logan's eyes, she couldn't say anything...she just put a hand on his and leaned in to say, "'S in my purse–be right back."

A note? So Max had even seen this coming, that he'd be looking for her. Maybe she'd offer something more to go on...

"Here, boo." Cindy wavered, and felt suddenly like she was eavesdropping, backing up just a little so she wouldn't be able to see the note, once opened. He sensed it and took advantage of it, maybe a way to help keep Max's secrets safe.

"Thanks, Cindy." He stuffed the note in his jacket and turned to go. "Sorry to be a pest."

"I understand–the two of you, you know..."

He blinked up at her in momentary confusion, and began, "We're not...." He stopped...hesitated... and, with a small swallow and nod, turned to head out the way he came...

OUTSIDE CRASH

In the alley where he'd left the Aztek, Logan stopped under the entryway light, ripping open the letter Cindy had given him. In an angular, strong hand was written:

Logan:

I know you wanted me to wait and I'm sorry, but I couldn't. Besides, if you're right, we don't both need to be walking into whatever is planned. But don't worry, even if it is a trap I've been in tough spots before–you ought to know.

If this get to you, it probably means I've been delayed, 'cos I'm leaving this with Cindy and am on my way now. Don't do anything stupid, Logan, like come looking. Just hang tight and I'll be back. The widows and small children need you to get their back more than I do. But thanks--for everything.

M.

...to be continued...