The Insurance Policy
Disclaimers: Wolverine/Logan , Jubilee and Nick Fury all belong to Marvel. I am not making any money from their use. Tessa and Senator Westerleigh belong to me.
A/N: This story takes place between Jubilee #5 and Jubilee #6.
The man was shorter than average; not much over five feet. His build, however, made people look twice. He appeared to be somewhere between thirty-five and forty-five but the observer knew him to be much older. He was broad shouldered and powerfully built, with the muscles of a dedicated bodybuilder. People felt the power coming from the man almost as a wave or a scent. Men tended to back away, not wanting to have that power focused at them. Women tended to draw nearer, wondering if the power was sexual. He was a man of mystery. Men hated the puzzle, women wanted to solve it.
The observer watched the man's progress through the restaurant with a smirk. The reactions of his fellow diners were fascinating and he wished that he had the time to explore the phenomenon. It couldn't be his looks. He wasn't handsome. His face was craggy with lines of way too much pain over the years, shaggy sideburns flared out from his jaws. His black hair was windblown, coming to swept back peaks over each temple. He did have the most remarkable, piercing blue eyes that missed little in the room. The eyes were old and dead. The eyes revealed the danger in him. The observer knew him to be the most lethal man on the planet.
Although the observer knew he had been spotted by the man, he rose and waved him over. The little man sat down in a chair with his nose twitching.
"Oysters are bad," he said with a sniff.
"I didn't order any," the observer said. The other man grunted.
"Whataya want Fury?" the little man demanded with a low growl.
"Lunch first, Logan," Fury said as he opened his menu. A tall, gray haired man stopped at the table, gasping for breath.
"Sorry I'm late Nicolas," he wheezed.
"We haven't ordered yet Senator," Fury said as he stood and shook the Senators hand. Logan remained seated. "This is Logan. Logan, this is Senator Westerleigh."
"Logan," Westerleigh acknowledged as he stuck out his hand. Logan ignored the hand with a grunt and returned to his menu. Westerleigh drew back his hand and sat down scowling.
"Have you asked him?" Westerleigh directed the question to Fury while staring at Logan, dislike in his eyes.
"He just got here," Fury told him. "Let's eat first." The waiter came over to the table at Fury's gesture. Placing a beer in front of Logan, he got out a pad to take their orders. Logan nodded his thanks and swallowed half the beer in one gulp.
By the time they had gotten their food, the Senator was almost writhing in his seat. Logan could smell his anxiety. "Sit still," he growled. "Yer attracting too much attention."
Westerleigh straightened in anger. "Don't tell me what to do, young man," his voice low with hostility. Logan smirked. "Fury, there has to be someone else that can find her." Logan's brow climbed in amusement.
"Logan's the best," Fury said smiling. "He can find her and get her out. And he can do it alone."
"Oh please," Westerleigh sneered. "No one is that good."
"Logan is," Fury assured him.
"Quit talkin 'bout me like I ain't here," Logan interrupted. "What's the job?"
"The Senator's daughter, Tessa, and a friend went to Nuevo Laredo four days ago for some shopping. We traced her from the border check point to her hotel. She checked in okay but two nights ago, they disappeared. Her friend was found this morning with her throat slit," Fury told him.
"You want me to find her and bring her home." It was not a question.
"That's the plan," Fury said.
"There been any ransom demands?" Logan asked Westerleigh.
"Not yet," he admitted. "I don't think they know who she is. She goes by her mother's maiden name of Madison for safety reasons. There have been a number of kidnapping of American nationals in the Mexican border cities. The state department has just issued a travel advisory for Nuevo Laredo. I told Tessa before she left that this wasn't a good idea but she's as headstrong as her mother was."
"Any slavers or drug lords active in the area?" he asked Fury.
"Plenty," Fury snorted. "Ya can't walk down a street in Nuevo Laredo without bumping into a 'recruiter'."
"I need access to her apartment."
"What the hell for?" Westerleigh hissed.
"Best place to start," Logan said as he leaned back in his chair. "Need to get 'er scent."
"Huh?" Westerleigh asked surprised.
"Logan tracks by scent," Fury explained.
"Uh…."
"Trust me Senator," Fury said. "I wouldn't recommend him if I wasn't sure he could do the job."
Westerleigh pulled a key and a photograph from his wallet and dropped them on the table. "This was taken last year."
Logan drew them toward him. He slipped the key into a pocket. The picture was of a pretty brunette in her mid to late twenties. The resemblance to her father was remarkable. She had the same chocolate brown eyes and arched brows. He handed the photo back. "I won't need this."
"Here's her address," Westerleigh said as he wrote on a pad he took from his pocket. "Find her, before she does something stupid."
"Spitfire?" Logan asked with a cocked eyebrow.
"She was trouble from the day she learned to walk. Look for the nearest dust-up and she'll be in the middle," he said as he handed the paper to Logan.
He drained the last of his beer and stood. Shoving the paper into his pocket, he nodded to the men and left the restaurant.
"You better be right about him Fury," Westerleigh threatened.
"I am," Fury said as he drained his own drink. "If any one can find her, he can."
The apartment was on the top floor of the complex. It was a large, two bedroom with two baths. She was a neat housekeeper. Everything was in it's place, no dust bunnies running around. It may have been professionally decorated but she had placed her stamp on the rooms. Family photographs graced the walls. He noted several paintings in the living room of local sights that were signed with a flourish. Leaning closer, he noted that the scrawled signature was Tessa's. The paintings were beautifully done. She had loads of talent.
Taking a deep sniff, he began to separate the scents in the room. Dinner from the night before she left, oil from the paintings, faint cigarette smoke, furniture polish and the scent of four people filled his sinuses. He began to separate the human odors. One was a man, the smoker. The other three were women. One was faint, as if it had been weeks since she had visited. The other two were stronger. Tessa and her friend. Moving into the first bedroom he found her studio. The scent of oil paint was overpowering, masking every other scent in the room. An unfinished canvas sat on the easel. The beginnings of a landscape flowed across it. He could already see the mood she was in as she applied the paint; dark and angry. Interesting.
Closing the door, he went down the hall to the second bedroom. It was bright and cheerful with late day sunlight streaming in from the windows. An abstract print duvet covered the neatly made bed. The scent of oil paint was strong here as well. Pushing the distracting odor aside, he searched for the scent of the girl. Opening the closet door, he found what he was looking for; the laundry basket. Lifting a silk blouse from the basket, he brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply. There it was. The scent was light and pleasant. She didn't use perfume, only soap. That would make it much easier to find her. He hated trying to find a woman by her perfume. You had to sniff a lot of necks to find your prey. He tended to get a lot of action that way but it was distracting.
He returned the blouse to the basket and closed the closet door. Searching the room, he found a pad of paper and a pencil by the phone. He could just see the faint imprint of writing on the paper. Taking the pencil, he scraped it lightly across the pad. The writing became clearer. 'La Hacienda Hotel, five nights, $57.50 per night'. No phone number. Hotels in Nuevo Laredo tended to be cheap. This one was one of the best in the city.
He placed the pad and pencil back on the table. Lifting the phone, he placed a call to Fury.
"I have her hotel and her scent," he told him. "I don't want to rouse suspicions by crossing the border at night so I'll leave in the morning."
"Sounds like a plan," Fury agreed. "I don't have to tell you that this can't be public."
"They won't know I'm there until it's too late."
"Keep the body count low."
"No guarantees, Nick," Logan growled. "If slavers have her, they all die." He hated the white slavers that ruled the border towns of Mexico almost as much as he loathed the drug lords that ran the rest of the country. The new President was doing his best but the corruption ran very deep.
"Officially, I have to say that if there is any government connection, an attack by a Canadian operative is an act of war. Unofficially, I hope you don't kill them too quickly. They need to die as painfully as possible."
"I ain't a Canadian operative," Logan protested. "I left Alpha Flight a long time ago."
"They still have you on the roll as active," Fury told him. "They refuse to accept that you prefer to be an X-Man."
Logan uttered a few colorful curses. Fury just laughed.
"Be that as it may, Logan, you need to stay far under the radar with this. Her father will be running for President next year. His pro mutant policies make him important to you. Do this bloodlessly and I can say that you and yours may benefit."
Logan hung up after questioning Fury's parentage. Dealing with Fury always put him on guard. The head of S.H.I.E.L.D. always had a hidden agenda. All Logan had to do was figure it out before Fury got him killed.