DISCLAIMERS: Yeah, yeah, see the old ones.
THANKS TO ALL who have stopped by to write–it's fascinating to see what some readers like & some don't, what parts are mentioned and which ignored, what parts I may have enjoyed but get no comment, to see some people come & go while others stick around for the long haul. Nice to have such a wide range of folks out there!
A TOO-LONG A/N: In response to questions raised a few times recently: first, for those speculating where this is headed & what each character will do next: my goal all along has been, since announcing that it takes place between 411 and Prodigy, to take them on a ride, maybe throw them together pretty intensely, but then to get them BACK to where they were, therefore fitting into but not really changing their TV universe. I'm still hoping that's where we all come out. Once the dust clears, I'll be curious to see if you think I charged through this china shop without breaking too much.
AND SPECIFICALLY, about the issue of getting Max & Logan into the car in Chapter 8–I sure did get my sequence out of whack! My thoughts were to allow enough time for Bling to stash Briley in Matt's car as well as to hold Max as Logan transferred, and tuck Max into Logan's lap. I see that I wrote Bling coming back from dealing with Briley without changing the language that made clear he did both (in whatever order) –good point! At the time I didn't want to draw it all out painstakingly, but the events should have been made clear. This, and those pesky spelling problems, come from ongoing sleep deprivation and doing these chapters in the wee, wee hours. Thanks for the observation.
ALL IN ALL, my great thanks for every one of your comments, questions, assistance, and support. It's been a powerful boost for this newbie! I promise you I wouldn't have posted nearly as much or as quickly without all the input I've gotten from everyone (uh-oh–now you know how to slow me down...)
CHAPTER 11:
SEATTLE POLICE–CENTRAL DIVISION
Matt had called Logan to tell him that Briley Morrison was scheduled for video arraignment at 1:30 that afternoon–following that, he was likely to be transported out of central to county, and he'd probably have a lawyer standing by to start telling him not to talk to anyone about anything. So despite the aches Logan felt with every push of his chair, the bit of difficulty he was having, still, transferring ...and the lovely, recovering woman who was being tended in his home where he should be, he was here, across the street from central lock-up, waiting for Matt to have Morrison brought up to a holding cell so they could "chat."
Sitting by Matt's desk back in the detective's squad room, his press credentials out on his lap as an explanation for anyone too curious, Logan was forced to think again about the events of the previous night, remembering what this man had put Max through. His jaw worked in anger, dwelling on what he'd just learned from Matt: apparently the man had added the metal gate Logan had seen, so she couldn't escape, had manufactured drugs and set up shop, draining blood from Max and transfusing his mother, letting mom rest in between and packing up extra pints from Max in the fridge...he'd set up one room, spartan and clinical, in which Max would be captive, and another for his mother, a picture of comfort and charm. Hell, he'd even prepared a room to watch Max come in, waiting until just the right moment to shoot her with tranquilizers, distant and safe from her. ' Coward,' Logan thought. Even when in Logan's grip, in pain, caught, the freak didn't seem to think anything was wrong with the vampire act. ' Ghoul,' Logan burned...
At least Max was coming back, and, as promised, seemed none the worse for wear. Beverly had called and spoken with Bling as Logan had slept, and said that other than plenty of liquids and nourishment, that she had no other suggestions for handling the overload of sedatives Max had received. The compounds were variants of some old, government-developed knock-out agents, and she believed that if Max showed no signs of respiratory problems or visual disturbances by now there would be no residual effects. Bling thought to ask her if there could be any concern for a patient who had a neurological serotonin- production deficiency, and she was confident that there would be no implications. With that news greeting him when he first emerged from the guest room after leaving Max to sleep, Logan's mood had been considerably lightened...
...to be darkened once again with his jail visit. 'At least here, the monster was contained' he'd mused...
...and at the choice of terms, Logan wondered of he'd meant the pharmacist...or himself.
"Okay–he's here." Matt came up from the back, to look at the waiting man. "Apparently no lawyer has shown up yet, but he's made a call." He looked at the man's face, and was reminded of what he'd seen hours before, as Logan held the fragile woman in his arms. Sung thought he understood it all now, why this was so important to Logan, why he wanted this handled quietly, why he wanted to talk with Morrison. He added, "It shouldn't get up on anyone's radar, even with the weird twist with the transfusions. Not too many involved, no big connections to anyone major...it can be all very low key, Logan."
Logan nodded. "Right." His voice lowered, and he added, evenly, "I owe you lifetimes for this one, Matt. Thank you–for both of us."
"I'm glad it worked out" the detective agreed. "I've been assigned, formally. Any further investigation or file prep, I do myself." It was about time the man had a break, Matt was thinking. All the work he did for Eyes Only, and all he'd gotten for his efforts was a bullet through the spine. He'd make sure this one was handled cleanly...for Logan.
SEATTLE CENTRAL BOOKING, DEPARTMENT OF DETENTION
It wasn't Logan's first time to Central Booking, but it was the first where the circumstances were so personal. Matt had walked Logan out but had not gone across the street with him; the officer at the desk had been expecting him and he was allowed back to the waiting area, where normally only lawyers, cops, and an occasional journalist like Logan might be allowed an audience. In another few minutes he was invited down a hall, a door opened for him. In the room, not a large one, was a bare conference table, two chairs...and Briley Morrison.
The men sized up each other as Logan came into the room, the door closed behind him by a guard, who did not move from the glass paneled door. Morrison was in jail overalls, bright orange, uncuffed –apparently the guards didn't think he was much of a threat. On his left arm was a thick, purple-wrapped cast with brilliantly white plaster edging his fingers and forearm, at either end...the image threw Logan off his focused, planned outline for the meeting, and without lifting his eyes from the sight, he said, tensely, "I'm...sorry...about your wrist...that's..." He swallowed, came back a little, "That's not me. It was more than was called for."
The man sat for a moment, then offered. "I called a lawyer."
"Yes, I know. But it's irrelevant, here. I'm not with the police; I'm not working on their behalf nor am I here in any capacity for them. Besides, this isn't an interrogation of any sort, so..." He considered the little man, who at the moment looked as harmless and normal as anyone. Logan felt an anger stirring at his benign appearance, but breathed it back in. "I'm just here to make you an offer."
"What's that?" The man looked skeptical.
"No matter what statement you give, or what you have to say about any of this, you make no mention of Manticore–especially, nothing about Max's connection with them, where you found her, what connection she has, anything at all about either her or them."
The man snorted a little, sensing his superior position in this. "And? What's in it for me?"
"Money, if that's important to you. But more valuable: papers, and a new identity and location, for when you get out, for both you and your mother, if that's what you want." Logan was the one who became stronger with this. "If you know anything about Manticore, you know that over the years, those who have any information about them and who are no longer working for them tend to disappear– either they get smart and find a way to lay low–or they are found and laid down, more... forcefully." Logan's eyes bored into those of the mousy pharmacist across from him. "It's in your own best interests–and your mother's, as well as Max's, if you say nothing about Manticore. My offer is just to sweeten the deal a little." He saw the man considering it, and added, "And I suspect if you want to make your time in here shorter, a plea bargain will keep you safe in here for a time, and out to take me up on my offer in not too many years."
"What about my mother in the mean time?"
Logan saw an opening, so dared, "If she's locked up too, she'll keep, while waiting for you..."
The man's eyes gave away his weakness. "I thought they let her go..."
"No, they let her out. On bond–but there are still charges pending that they plan to file."
"No, please, you can't..."
Logan sat back and cocked his head to the side. "I'm not the DA, either–I don't decide what cases to file and what not to file..."
Morrison met his eyes to say, low, intently, "It's just a fluke, you know, that I'm the one here, and you're the hero." His eyes narrowed. "No matter what you said about this not being you--" he lifted his cast-encased arm, "we each did what we had to do for someone we love." He wavered, sat back. "Okay. Deal–if you can find a way to keep them from charging her..."
"I can't promise that..."
"But I have a strong suspicion that you'll manage it."
Logan's eyes never wavered, but he relented only enough to nod, slightly. He saw the effect on the other as he did so; the pharmacist relaxed slightly, certain of Logan's ability to manage things. Drawing a breath, Logan asked, "You were there, weren't you? On their grounds, while all of it was going on?"
Morrison hesitated, guarded at first, but seemed to decide that he owed the man something. He nodded. "My mother was a geneticist, one of the team in to try and fine-tune the design, eradicate the flaws." He looked back to Logan. "You know that your friend had one of the faulty genes, that she has seizures?" At Cale's nod, he shrugged, looking away again, vaguely. "The medical team reported that all the flaws had been eradicated."
Logan's blood chilled; he didn't want to ask but the words came, anyway, "Eradicated–the faulty gene, or the person with it?"
The eyes swung back to focus on Logan, and considered. "It was all the same thing," he summed.
Logan's mouth was dry, but still, he asked. "How many?"
Briley's eyes narrowed, as he pulled back, suddenly calculating. "I'd have to check mother's notes."
Logan watched the man for a moment, then drew a breath to ask, "You've mentioned the term 'X5' several times" He watched the man, closely. "What do you mean?"
The man's eyebrows lifted, the superiority back. "I thought you were investigating Manticore" he smirked. "Seems if you have to ask that, you haven't gotten very far."
Logan would not let his frustration show, but forced himself to respond in kind, snorting, "Oh, but you know all about it, I suppose..." He wondered if he could slick the creep into giving up something...
Briley nodded "The medical teams were given apartments on grounds–I lived there, with mother, for over six years. And the last couple years, I assisted in the labs after school, sometimes." There was a glint of self-importance in his eyes, an awareness of the power he held in that moment. "Mr. Cale, if you want me to tell you what I know, I think we could arrange something–say, their dropping these charges."
Logan did all he could to meet the man's eyes, as he repeated, "I have no say in what cases the DA chooses to prosecute."
"Oh, c'mon, Mr. Cale" the man sat forward a bit. "They're overworked. And they would listen to you" his smile was oily now. "You were involved, you come from an influential, wealthy family, you're a known journalist..." He paused and added, "and even if they won't, 452–Max–will. If she wants them dropped..."
Logan could feel his jaw clench. "I believe we're done here." He backed up.
"Wait–you promised..."
"And I will honor that promise–as long as you do." He knew what Max would have him say, that any chance to get more information from an inside source was worth anything, even letting this bastard go free...but he couldn't, not after what he'd done to Max, Morrison wasn't getting off. Logan could only hope that after a few weeks in the state pen, he'd reconsider... "Not a word to anyone about Manticore or Max...and when your time's up, we'll get you and your mother relocated."
Morrison blinked, still unsure how his winning hand had lost. "How will I find you?"
Logan shifted to pull out a card, on which a post office box and a telephone number, without more, was printed. "Contact me through either if these, a week or so before you're out." He pivoted, without more.
"Mr. Cale--" Briley wavered, one last try. "If you don't know what X5 is...there are probably a lot of things about your girlfriend you'd be safer in knowing..."
"I know everything I need to know." Logan breathed, intense, not turning back. "And I know you belong in jail, no matter what else you might be able to say." With that, he rapped at the door–and left Morrison blinking and uncertain, alone in the secured conference room...
FOGLE TOWERS
Despite his yearning to get back immediately to Max, the anger and ambivalence and impotence tugging at Logan led him to drive around a while, working through his frustrations, before heading home, a last minute detour to the market giving him additional brooding time. He couldn't tell Max what he'd given up in his desire for retribution, and knew this would continue to gnaw at him a while. Still, he might see what a couple weeks in confinement would do to the man's self-confidence, and whether he might succumb to a less disturbing bribe. 'Patience in all things' a wise man had tried to tell him once...
Back in his garage, Logan wearily pulled his chair out to reassemble it, his move from the driver's seat more of a controlled fall than a transfer. Coming around to the back, he lifted the bags from the back, at least gratified that he could feed Max and help her rally. She'd be back on her feet in no time, he knew...
And, he thought darkly, if only he could say the same thing, he might have a fighting chance...
To be continued...