My apologies for taking so long on this chapter, but I've been away, and I wrote the Cape Haven Challenge story in between.
My most sincere thanks to all those who reviewed the last chapter and 'Aliens Among Us' – I always get a big kick out of them!
To Alaidh for her insightful betaing – thank you!
Chapter 14
"Green. I don't know why I didn't think of it before," Logan muttered half to himself and half to Max as he headed back out to his computer.
"Think of what before?" Max queried as she followed him, feeling like his mind had leapt about five jumps ahead of hers and marvelling at his ability to focus so thoroughly on another matter when she knew he had been obsessing over a very different one only moments before.
Heading past the kitchen and into his study he said, "It's just a guess, but if you were gonna change your name, maybe several times, and you wanted it to be one that kids would remember..." he trailed off, leaving her to fill in the dots as he booted up his computer.
Max's own agile brain had no problem now with grasping the significance. "You'd want it to be something simple a young child could remember – like a colour. Then if they made a mistake and forgot, and said their name was Black, rather than Green ..."
"People would put it down to a childish mistake," Logan finished for her, jabbing at the keys as he logged on.
"So how ya gonna deal with this?" Max asked him as she pulled up the computer chair to sit a little closer.
Logan saw the movement out of the corner of his eye, immediately aware of the subtle scent of cherry and leather that was unmistakably her. This time her closeness didn't bother him, but rather, he welcomed it, recognizing it as a warm gesture of her friendship, wryly aware that a computer screen could be very poor company in the early hours of the morning.
"There are a few things I could do. I could hack into witness protection records themselves, see if I can come up with something on the kids that way. Then there's the name Matt gave me - Juan Fernandez - supposedly the name behind the leak. Word is he sold out to the Russians."
"He still around?" asked Max in surprise.
Logan shook his head. "Gone to ground. Surprise, surprise."
"I hear the weather's fine in Jamaica this time of year," smiled Max cynically. "You hungry?"
"Coffee'd be good," he hinted as he concentrated on the screen.
"Sure," Max answered, studying his profile a moment before she got up. He didn't appear anywhere near as tense as he had earlier, for which she was grateful, both for his sake and for hers, but the earlier events of the evening made her wonder just how close his hurts were to the surface, and what it cost him to keep them so rigorously hidden – and how many of them were her fault
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"How long you gonna keep this up?" Max asked him some time later as she brought his third cup of coffee in to where he sat at the dining table, his laptop and an array of papers before him.
The computer in his study was working its way through complex programs that would hopefully cut through firewalls and passwords and eventually let him peruse the closely guarded secrets of the government's witness protection program.
Logan shrugged, leaning back and stretching his shoulders a little as she put the coffee in front of him. "Could take days," he admitted, "if I can get in at all."
"Do we have that long?" asked Max quietly as she looked down at him.
With a grimace of discontent, Logan picked up his drink. "Guess we just have to."
"You cool with it if I head out and pick up my bike? I left it padlocked in the street."
Looking concerned, Logan said, "I hope it's still there."
"Has been every other time," she told him. "I won't be long."
Logan looked at her seriously. "You wanna be careful out there. After this afternoon..."
"I'm a big girl," she called over her shoulder as she headed for the door, careful to lock it on her way out after grabbing his car keys from the hall table.
Rather than exiting by the front door of his building, Max headed down to the underground parking area where she let herself out by one of the security doors.
The air was decidedly chilly, but she found its coldness refreshing as she breathed in deeply.
Carefully, she peered around the garage doorway. There'd be no slip-ups this time. Her thoughts were firmly focused on only one thing.
He was easy to spot.
Must be getting soft if he's sitting in his car, thought Max. Question is, are you FBI or are you one of George's friends? she mused. Hardly looks like he's in mourning. FBI, definitely.
Slipping back the way she had come, Max headed to the back of the underground parking area where 6 steps led to a single door which she opened and found herself in the street behind his building.
Mindful of her mistake that morning, she checked carefully once more for any sign of surveillance. The street appeared to be totally deserted save for the large rat that ran across her path. Thankful that there were no large rats of the human variety, she set off up the street, following it until she had reached the area where she'd left her bike on the road running parallel to her.
"Be there," she whispered silently, now not nearly as confident as she had appeared to Logan.
Heading up a narrow road that led back out to Mayfield Avenue, she carefully looked around the corner once more, smiling with relief when she saw her bike in one piece. It was hard to make a living as a bike messenger without one.
Once she'd unlocked the bike, it took her only a few minutes to retrace her route, equally as cautious as she had been on her way out, her eyes continually probing the darkness of the poorly lit Seattle streets with calculating thoroughness.
Using the security device on Logan's key ring, she unlocked the door and entered the underground parking area. Once she had padlocked her bike to a wall pipe, she took the elevator back to the penthouse.
Momentarily less vigilant, she leant against the wall of the elevator, arms stretched out either side of the handrail. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes for a moment, letting her body relax.
He pressed the button, then looked down at her, one hand holding the walking stick, his face betraying nothing of what he felt. It didn't have to – everything was expressed in those green eyes – encouragement, compassion, optimism. "You'll get there in time."
"We don't have sufficient data to make that call," Zack countered almost belligerently.
The green eyes flickered to the X5, meeting the other's gaze in an almost cool, contemplative manner, but there'd been a hint of annoyance in the voice. "There's a 50/50 chance I'm right. Is it against Manticore training to look on the bright side?"
Max's eyes sprung open.
Where did that memory come from?
The elevator door slid open and her heart promptly stopped.
The door to Logan's apartment was wide open.
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In a weary gesture, Logan placed his glasses on the table in front of him. Leaning his elbows on the table, he drew both hands across his face, for a moment leaving his eyes to rest in the darkness of the hands that Charlie had been so keen to sketch.
It was hard to resist the feeling of being overwhelmed by all that had happened in the last few days, and all that had yet to be accomplished if they were ever going to discover Emma Belding's fate and reunite the children with their parents.
Logan removed his hands from his eyes, resting his chin on them instead. The apartment was quiet other than the noise of the computer fans quietly humming and the occasional beep as the program proceeded through each stage.
At least Max wouldn't be getting wet, he thought as his less than alert gaze wandered to the windows in front of him.
For a moment he let his eyes close once more, his head almost immediately resting heavier on his hands as a myriad of thoughts careened through his mind, rushing to have their say before sleep overpowered him, as it inevitably would.
Hillsgate Road.
There's a leak in witness protection.
...nothing to do with what happened to Sophy.
...sold out to the Russians.
Black, green, white.
Because I couldn't feel it ...I couldn't feel it...I couldn't ...
Logan's head snapped up.
He sat perfectly still, frowning into the distance, suddenly very awake and uncomfortably aware of his heart thumping wildly in his chest.
Logan listened intently, but the only thing he heard was the persistent hum from his study.
He let go his breath slowly, almost feeling dizzy from the sensation of the blood rushing in his ears.
"I gotta go to bed," he muttered to himself, a little unnerved to find his mind playing tricks and realizing that he'd be of no use to anyone if he didn't get some sleep.
Logan released his brakes, then swung around intending to head to bed. Realizing at the last minute he didn't have his glasses, he awkwardly reached back to get them, managing at the same time to knock Bryan Burke's file to the ground.
He grunted with annoyance, frowning at the mess he'd made. The loose papers had managed to spread themselves around the floor and under the table.
"Great," he congratulated himself sarcastically. "Just great."
The thought crossed his mind that if he left them, Max would pick them up for him, but he dismissed it as too much like admitting a weakness. A bit of tiredness won't kill me, he reasoned bracingly to himself as he held on to the table and reached down to grab the closest one that had fluttered next to the wheel of his chair.
His eyes fell on the words as he went to put it on the table, and in that instant he had a flash of something that was tantalizingly on the very edge of his thought process.
Hillsgate Road.
Suddenly Logan's head shot up again.
This time he knew it wasn't the result of a tired mind - there was definitely someone at his front door and, with a chilling certainty, he knew it wasn't Max.
Logan dug deep and made it to his study in record time, immediately sliding open the lid to reveal his gun.
It wasn't there.
He grimaced with frustration as he realized Bling would have placed it somewhere out of the girls' reach. In all likelihood out of his own reach as well.
Logan's head jerked up again in the direction of the door as he heard another unrecognizable sound, but this time he forced himself to analyse it, rather than jumping to wild conclusions of several 'George' clones, clad in suits and carrying guns, at his door.
He had to admit it was hard to imagine who would be calling on him at ten past four in the morning.
Slowly Logan wheeled over to the door.
The sudden cry for help startled him, but almost immediately he began to relax.
Even still, he hesitated an instant before putting his hand on the doorknob. He suspected that Max would disapprove - tell him he should have waited for her return.
The door swung open suddenly with the force of someone leaning against it as Logan a little warily unlocked it.
Wheeling back quickly, he found himself looking up into the slightly battered face of his formerly impeccable cousin, Martin.
"You alone?" Logan asked him quickly with a searching glance towards the open door as his cousin staggered into the room.
Martin looked about vaguely, finally letting his gaze move downward to focus on Logan before he nodded mutely.
"You'd better come and sit down," Logan urged him, taking in the bruised and bloodied face.
Martin took four steps down the hallway leading to the living area before he turned to Logan with a dazed look, then sank to the floor in a dead faint.
Logan instinctively put out a hand to catch Martin, only to pull it back immediately as he realized the futility of his action.
He couldn't help but wince as Martin's head struck the ground with a solid thump.
"Damn," Logan muttered as he looked down at his cousin's inert body, annoyed by his own inability to help him, and by his cousin's apparent inability to look after himself.
"Logan!"
He looked up to see Max staring at him, then her eyes darted to Martin.
"What happened?" she asked sharply.
Logan indicated his cousin, shrugging a little. "He turned up here and fainted."
Max looked relieved, only to look at Martin with something like distaste. "I don't know who's more trouble – George's people, our FBI friends, or him."
"Can you just get him to the couch for me?" Logan asked her with a flash of weary annoyance.
It was late, he was tired, and he didn't want to have to deal with Max's antagonism towards Martin. Not that it probably wasn't warranted, he mused as he watched Max lift the still unconscious Martin into a fireman's hold and walk through to the living room to deposit him none too gently on the couch where she proceeded to check his vitals.
"He'll live," she told Logan, who'd followed her into the room, almost sounding disappointed. "Looks like he's managed to make a few new friends, or piss off the ones he's already got. Ya think he's got any friends?" she added, as an afterthought.
Logan merely squinted at her and shook his head. "I'll get a washcloth."
"No, I'll get it," Max said jumping up, not giving him a chance to reply.
Logan followed her movements with his eyes, then wheeled closer to the couch to survey his cousin. It was hard to believe it was the same person who'd turned up several nights ago, immaculately groomed, looking very much the up and coming young executive. Well, he was neither 'up' nor 'coming' now, thought Logan wryly, taking in the tattered overalls that were stained with a mixture of Seattle mud and presumably Martin's own blood from a badly split lip. The baseball cap had gone missing, but to Logan's surprise, going by the bulge in Martin's pocket, it appeared as though his wallet was still intact. The fact made him study his cousin thoughtfully. How many thieves rob you then return your wallet?
He wondered cynically what tale Martin would spin this time.
"So, what story d'ya think he's gonna try and blow you off with this time?" Max asked as she returned with the wet cloth, unwittingly echoing his own thoughts as she tossed it over to him.
"Maybe he'll tell the truth," Logan replied a little contrarily, not entirely happy that Max read his cousin as he had himself. Somewhere he still had a memory of backyard basketball games, his youngest cousin pleading to join in. Maybe we should have let him join in more often, he mused a little guiltily.
"He wasn't a bad kid," Logan told her, perhaps to remind himself of the fact as he reached over to put the cloth on Martin's forehead in an attempt to revive him.
"Yeah, yeah – just misunderstood," Max said sarcastically as she walked across to the windows, her gaze restlessly sweeping the skyline. Martin's presence made her feel uneasy.
"Well, he has got Jonas for a father."
"You have him for an uncle, and look how you turned out," Max retorted, unimpressed.
"I guess to some people it can be as difficult growing up with too much money as not enough," Logan said, glancing up at her and wondering, half to himself, why he was trying to make excuses for Martin's behaviour.
"My heart bleeds for him."
A groan from the couch made them both look in that direction.
"Logan?"
"Nice of you to drop in," Logan told him with dry humour. "Next time I'd better put padding on the floor for you."
"Yeah," Martin attempted a grin, but it died on his lips when he saw Max as she walked across to his line of vision.
"You're just full of surprises, aren't you," Max told him, coming around to stand at the base of the couch.
"Max," Logan cautioned her quietly. "Maybe we'd better hear Martin's story."
"I did miss my bedtime one tonight," Max agreed compliantly, noting the flush of colour that now crept up the younger man's face.
"Logan too busy with the kids? You feeling left out?" Martin bit back with relish.
Max hid her look of surprise. What did he know about Genevieve and Monique?
"Martin," Logan interjected quickly, not happy with how this was going, "just tell us what happened to you."
Martin took the cloth from his face and sat up, with a somewhat defiant look in Max's direction.
Logan sat back with his arms crossed, awaiting his explanation, eyebrows raised expectantly.
"Well?" he finally prompted. The night was swiftly winging its way towards dawn.
"I stopped by Emma's apartment building."
Getting no response to this admission, he looked up at Logan with an expression Logan couldn't quite place. Was it guilt? Embarrassment?
"I just felt like I needed to do something - try to help in some way. You seemed kind of preoccupied when I was here this afternoon."
Logan caught Max flashing a look in his direction. He still hadn't had a chance to tell her about Martin's previous visit.
Martin seemed to find their silence uncomfortable.
"I just thought I should check through her things myself - see if I could come up with something that maybe you'd missed," Martin finished, trying to not sound too defensive.
"Don't tell me, Emma's roommate Charlie did this to you?" Max queried enjoyably, taking in his beaten appearance.
For once Martin ignored her, directing his words towards Logan.
"It was that big guy who hangs around. Seth."
"Seth?" Logan repeated with surprise.
With the satisfaction of having finally elicited a response from Logan, Martin continued with more assurance, "I was just walking up the hallway when he spotted me. He went crazy, grabbing me and punching me, yelling that I'd hurt Emma."
"So how'd you get away?" Max asked, her voice not quite free from suspicion.
"He made so much noise that a few guys came out to see what it was all about. I think it scared him when he saw them and he suddenly dropped the whole thing and ran off."
"And you thoughtfully staggered here?" Max finished for him.
Martin stole a look at Logan. "I didn't know where else to go. I wasn't feeling that good."
"You weren't looking that good either," Logan agreed with him, trying to make up a little for Max's coldness. "Ever seen Seth violent before?" he asked thoughtfully.
"I've hardly seen the guy," Martin protested. "Emma told me he was a bit slow. There was nothing slow about his fists," he said ruefully, putting a hand to his sore jaw.
Logan could see that he was a good deal shaken by the experience - understandable he supposed.
"You'd better bunk down here the rest of the night – or what's left of it," he told him, purposefully ignoring Max's eye. "It'll hafta be the couch, though."
"Thanks, Logan." After a pause he added, a little hesitantly, his blue eyes darting to Logan's green ones, "I could do with the company."
Max raised her dark, perfectly shaped eyebrows. "Logan, we gotta talk." She didn't care too much if she offended Martin. With any luck ...she thought hopefully.
Logan glanced up at her once, then back to Martin. "Can I get you some coffee?"
Martin looked grateful for the offer, but then hesitated. "I can get it," he offered. "It's getting awful late."
"Well, I wouldn't want you to report back to Jonas that my Bohemian lifestyle is all a myth," Logan returned easily as he released his brakes and swung around.
Max followed Logan without so much as a backward glance at Martin, but on reaching the kitchen, she strode ahead of him and silently grabbed the kettle from the stove, before heading to the sink and turning the faucet on at almost full force.
Logan halted mid-way between the sink and the stove. He thought he knew what was coming.
Max let the water run, but showed no intention of putting the kettle beneath the flow to fill it up.
"This is not a good idea," she told Logan succinctly, using the sound of the water to cover a little of what she said. "You already have an FBI agent camped at your front door. Who knows what vermin Martin's got following him around?"
"See anything out there when you came up?"
"Nope," Max had to admit.
"Max, I can't just turn him out in the cold," Logan protested, adding mildly, "You're wasting water," with a nod towards the gushing faucet.
"What about the girls?" she tried swiftly. "Martin may be compromising their safety."
"Max, he'll be gone first thing in the morning," he promised her, wheeling over and turning off the faucet himself.
"It's already first thing in the morning," she reminded him, recognizing when his mind was made up. "You said you'd make him coffee," she added pointedly.
"Oh," Logan responded, fighting the fog that was addling his brain.
"You go to bed. I'll do it," Max offered.
"I think Martin needs a little first-aid work," Logan hinted instead.
Max rolled her eyes for a moment, then in the voice of one who had nearly used up their vast reserves of patience she sighed, "Tell me where Bling put your meds."
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Max had finished her doctoring by the time Logan had made his second trip to Martin.
The first time he had a pillow and a blanket on his lap. The second time he had a mug of coffee carefully balanced on a tray that sat across his legs.
"I'll put this stuff away and check on the girls," Max muttered as he stopped at the couch.
Well, at least she'd managed to remain reasonably civil as she'd ministered to him, Logan mused thankfully.
"You're looking more human," Logan commented as he handed him the mug of coffee, barely stifling a yawn as he did so.
"So, the two kids are staying here?" Martin asked as he popped a pill into his mouth that Max had given him and took a sip of his hot drink.
"For the time being," Logan replied vaguely, not sure how much he wanted to tell Martin and thinking if he didn't get his body in a horizontal position soon he'd more than likely fall asleep in the chair.
Martin looked at him apologetically. "You and Max had better go to bed."
Logan felt his body temperature go up several notches as he realized what Martin was implying.
"You've got it wrong. Max isn't my girlfriend."
"So where's she gonna sleep?" Martin asked, with casual indifference.
"She doesn't ...not much anyway," he amended quickly. "Max is one of those people who get by with very little sleep. She grabbed a few hours earlier on in the night," he elaborated in a disinterested way, as if Max's sleeping habits were of absolutely no interest to him whatsoever.
"So why isn't she?"
"What?" asked Logan, finding it more and more difficult to keep up with the conversation.
"Your girlfriend."
Martin was beginning to feel very relaxed and peaceful about everything, not realizing that Max had actually given him a mild sedative. His older cousin didn't appear nearly as unapproachable as he normally did.
"Brunettes aren't your type? You've tried a red-head," he laughed.
"Martin."
"I gotta say she terrifies me, though. The most beautiful girl I've ever seen. You know I thought that when I saw her at Bennett's wedding, but this other stuff has me kind of worried."
"Martin," Logan tried again to stop the flow.
"I mean, would you want a relationship with a GI Jane? How comfortable would you feel knowing she could whip your ass anytime she chose, and then there's the way she ..."
"Martin, it's not about Max!" he finally snapped, goaded into his admission by Martin's relentless, and what he considered, totally unfair, denigrations.
Martin looked at him with sudden discernment.
"I'm sorry, Logan," he said quietly.
Logan froze for a moment.
"I'm goin' to bed," he finally muttered, releasing his brakes and swinging around. It seemed to take a lot more effort than usual.
"Night, Logan," Martin called in a subdued manner to him before settling back with a thoughtful expression on the pillow Logan had given him.
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Logan struggled reluctantly back to consciousness.
He didn't want to. He felt like he could sleep an entire week without any effort at all, but now that he was even half awake, he could feel an intensely annoying nagging something that told him he had to get up.
His first instinct was to block out the streaks of daylight that were intrusively penetrating his bedroom between the cracks of the curtains, with a pillow placed over his head. This worked reasonably successfully for a while, but it didn't stop the prompting that told him there was way too much for him to do to spend time indulging himself.
Eventually he threw the pillow off and looked bleary-eyed at the clock. It was just after 10am.
He wondered if Bling would be there – he couldn't remember what time his therapist had said he'd be coming.
Then there was Martin.
For a moment he was tempted to put the pillow back over his head.
Stupid, he berated himself.
With a dark expression, he could well imagine the topic of conversation at the next Cale family gathering – well, at least he'd long ago made it a policy to rarely attend them. For Max' s sake he wished ...Linking his hands behind his head, he purposefully steered his thoughts to other channels.
Max hadn't called him so he supposed his computer was still working through the various passwords and firewalls of the witness protection program.
He suddenly realized that he'd left Burke's file scattered on the ground after all, thanks to Martin's arrival.
"Hillsgate Road," he muttered to himself. Last night, just before Martin had turned up, he'd felt as though somewhere at the back of his mind, the road was familiar to him.
The thought was enough to spur him into action.
With the familiarity of a long established pattern, he put a hand out for his glasses without needing to look, then pulled himself up into a sitting position and looked around his darkened bedroom.
There was just one small detail he had to attend to first.
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Max sat at the dining table, Burke's notes spread out before her, with Logan's laptop displaying a detailed map of Seattle.
With painstaking thoroughness, she had been checking every abbreviation the detective had written against the alphabetically listed streets and places of interest shown on the map. She'd been at it for some hours, in between giving the girls their breakfast and entertaining them, trying to keep them a little quiet for Logan's sake as he caught up on some sleep.
Martin still snored on the couch. Whatever it was she had given him had turned out to be quite potent, for which she was thankful.
Neither of the girls had been impressed to see him stretched out in the living room.
Monique had taken one look at his recumbent form, pointed an accusing finger and pronounced with an air of finality, "He's a bad man!" She was inclined to hide behind Max's legs until Max had assured her that he was asleep and wasn't going to wake up for some time.
Max was a little puzzled at their response, then reflected dryly that it was hard to hide things from children.
"He's Logan's cousin," Max had finally explained to Monique.
"We know. He told us," Genevieve told her, "but we don't like him. He was mean to Logan," she added with a sullen look in Martin's direction.
Max suppressed a grin as their dislike became a little easier to understand.
"Well, you don't need to worry about him," she promised them. "He won't be here long."
They looked satisfied at that, quite happy to return to the kitchen and help Max with their breakfast, which had gone quite smoothly until Monique had a small crisis when she couldn't eat out of exactly the same blue bowl she'd used the day before."
"She always does this," Genevieve explained with a ten-year-old's grievance. "Mommy doesn't usually give in to her, but my dad always lets her have her own way. I wouldn't be allowed to do that!"
"The advantage of being three!" Max had smiled as she thankfully located the missing blue bowl in the refrigerator with some leftovers in it, fully sympathizing with Genevieve's father's point of view. It was amazing how quickly very small children worked out the effectiveness of a continual high-pitched cry.
"Men always do that," Genevieve had shrugged in a knowing way as she buttered her toast.
Intrigued with the 'voice of experience' Max asked in an off-hand manner, "So...what did Logan do when she cried like that?"
"He mostly let her have what she wanted, 'cept when she wanted one of his big sharp knives to cut her pancakes, and he wouldn't let her play with the DVDs," she admitted in a fair tone, her head a little to one side as she considered the point, "but he didn't like her crying either."
"Well, I just gave her the bowl because I didn't want her to wake Logan," Max told her, trying not to make it sound like an excuse. "Or Martin," she added as an afterthought, finding it difficult to keep the note of dislike out of her voice.
"Hey! You don't like him either!" Genevieve had crowed with delight from her high stool at the kitchen counter as she ate her cereal. "I knew you wouldn't!" she positively beamed.
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After breakfast the girls had played with their dolls, then Genevieve had found some children's programs on TV.
Max turned around to check on them every so often, but both girls appeared to be absorbed in whatever it was they were watching so she had been able to focus on the task before her. She was hoping to have something concrete to present to Logan when he woke up.
Max scanned the map in front of her carefully, looking for any streets that began with 'b' that would fit her theory. She had just enlarged an area near South Market, when her acute hearing picked up the muffled call of, "Max!" from Logan's bedroom.
A little startled by his tone of voice, she stood up quickly and hurried to his bedroom door, feeling a bit uneasy as she wondered why he would have called her.
"Logan?" she called to him, pausing at his doorway, a little surprised to see that it stood slightly ajar.
What was it with the doors around here lately? she wondered. He'd always slept with it closed the times she'd stayed in his apartment overnight.
"Hey," he called to her, by which she assumed she was to go in. "I got a problem."
Max pushed the door open its full extent.
He seemed to be okay, she thought as she looked into his still darkened room. He was sitting up, lying against his pillows, glasses on, hair every which way.
"I can't get up," he told her dryly.
For a fraction of a second she looked at him uncomprehendingly, thinking that perhaps his shoulder was bothering him or something, when his meaning suddenly became clear and she nodded her head.
"I think I know the culprit," was all she said as she disappeared down the hallway to the guestroom, only to return a few minutes later with his wheelchair.
"You been giving her lessons?" Logan asked her suspiciously as she placed it by his bed and set the brakes.
"Nope, full points to Monique for this one – she thought it up all by herself. Besides, you've got to be at least four years old for cat burglar training," Max explained as she pulled open the curtains and let the morning light flood the room, finding Monique's ingenuity humorous but a little unsure of Logan's reaction. "Apparently she thought it would make the perfect stroller for her doll."
"Should I have bought her a stroller for her doll?" he asked, suddenly struck by this omission on his part as he slid across to the chair.
"Logan, you bought her plenty. She was just being ... creative."
Logan suddenly looked up at her, the suspicion evident in his eyes once more. "How come she didn't scream when you took it off her?"
Max gave him a confident smile. "I simply said you'd give her a ride on your knee later."
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Max looked up from a sink full of dishes to see Logan come in, obviously fresh from his shower. His hair was still slightly damp, but it didn't appear to be a vast improvement on its previous state when he'd just woken up, but she did raise her eyebrows the tiniest amount at his smooth, clean- shaven face. It always made him look that little bit younger, she mused, or perhaps less intense was closer to the mark, not so ...
Her thoughts were interrupted by Martin, calling across to Logan from where he sat at the kitchen counter drinking a mug of coffee.
"How ya doin', Martin?" Logan asked his cousin, a trifle coolly, thought Max.
"I don't know what was in that pill Max gave me, but it sure knocked me out," Martin returned enthusiastically, missing the mildly annoyed look that Logan shot at Max. He'd never intended that Max drug Martin with any of his meds.
"You use those much? I had the best sleep," Martin enthused, only to be a little dampened by Logan's own less than enthusiastic, "No," as he poured himself a cup of coffee.
"I've been working on Burke's notes," Max told Logan as she let the sink water drain out and dried her hands.
"You find anything?" Logan asked intently.
"See for yourself," she replied, taking a few steps and holding out a hand for his hot cup so that he had both hands free. She looked across suddenly to catch Martin's interested expression before following Logan to the dining table where she set his cup down.
He'd given the computer in his study a cursory glance, but as he'd already expected, the program was still running.
Logan looked at Burke's file, now neatly set out on the table in its correct order.
"Thanks for picking this mess up," he thanked her ruefully.
Max shrugged. She didn't want his thanks for something so trivial.
"Logan!"
He turned to see both girls coming towards him, the smile on their faces for him all the more noticeable as they both seemed to take a wide berth around Martin and throw him a less than friendly frown as they went by.
"Hey, girls," Logan smiled back, a little surprised by their warm reception and wondering if there were any other rash promises Max had made on his behalf.
"Oh. You shaved," were Genevieve's first words to him, sounding a little disappointed.
Monique immediately climbed up on the dining chair next to him.
"You stole my wheelchair," he told her sternly, hoping she'd respond to a mild growl and he wouldn't have to send Max or Bling searching for it again.
"Sorry, Logan," she said quickly, her blue eyes sweetly penitent as she knelt up on her chair. Her new discovery brought a smile to her face. "Smooth," she pronounced in a pleased manner as she put a small hand up to his cheek. "Like my Daddy."
A little bemused by their interest in his appearance, particularly as he took little interest in it himself, he warned the three year old mildly, "Don't try to change the subject."
"She won't do it again, will you Monique," Max promised him as she adroitly removed the mug of coffee out of the child's reach, saving Burke's files from certain disaster.
Genevieve, seeing the papers laid out in front of them, said to Monique, "Come on. Let's go back and play. You need to feed your baby," earning her a look of gratitude from Max.
Logan already had his head in the file, crosschecking Burke's notes with anything Max may have come up with.
"Did you find Hillsgate?" he asked her, staring intently at her notes.
"Hillsgate Avenue? How did you know about that? I thought you hadn't had a chance to work on any of this stuff."
"Martin clued me into it," he told her a little distantly as his gaze darted from her notes, to the map on the screen, and finally back to Burke's notes again.
Things were beginning to add up and he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.
"Here," said Max, leaning forward and pointing with one slender finger to an entry in Burke's account as she stood next to Logan. "It says HG, then R, a little further on. Hillsgate Road looked like the best possibility."
Logan peered at the information silently for a moment.
"What d'ya think?" Max finally queried.
Logan nodded his agreement.
"Hillsgate sounds right to me, doesn't it Martin?" he added on a louder note for his cousin's benefit, not bothering to turn around.
Martin came across. "I did suggest that to you," he reminded Logan, but he looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"Yeah, and I really can't think why," Logan said wonderingly as he looked up at him.
"I told you why," Martin snapped back, running a hand through his hair as he stared out the window.
Logan turned to Max. "The 'Hillsgate' part is right ...only 'R' doesn't stand for 'road' – it stands for 'Russian,' doesn't it Martin?"
Max was now looking at Martin, her face a mixture of disbelief and disgust. "You knew all along what these letters stood for?"
"Only some of them," he told her quickly.
Max looked down at Logan. "So what's the dealio with the Russians?"
"They have an illegal casino in Hillsgate Road. Putting two and two together, I suspect that's where all Martin's money has mysteriously disappeared to."
"Why so high and mighty, Logan?" Martin shot at him like a cornered wildcat. "I don't remember you and Bennet being so 'holier than thou' in the past. Maybe it comes with the chair," he added cuttingly.
"Martin, I have a contact at that casino who ID'd you from a photo."
Catching Max's covert look of surprise, he pressed on regardless. He figured his one white lie paled into insignificance against the mountain Martin had invented these last few days.
"He told me you'd been hanging out there for the last five months – only the cards haven't been kind to you, have they? You're a loser. Big time."
"So what if I have?" he bristled.
"Then you had the bright idea to dip into Cale funds," Logan continued smoothly, unperturbed by his cousin's manner, "but I'd hazard a guess Jonas found out and put an end to it."
"Yeah - so what if any of this is true," Martin muttered belligerently.
Logan leaned back and looked up at him.
"You wanna tell me the real reason you got me looking for Emma Belding?"
TBC