A/N: I'm afraid I must beg of you all your humble pardons. I meant to have this done so very long ago. I must confess that I was unprepared for the workload that my return to school would entail. Nevertheless, it is the weekend, and so I will be finished by Sunday midnight, if I can. Here we go...
Chapter Eighteen: Two People Are Shot
When the shot rang out in the deathly silent hall, Logan could have sworn he felt it in his bones. A searing pain bloomed in the small of his back – not real pain, but a memory as fresh as the blood that spattered against the wall beside him. It was over in an instant, but that instant was all it took to completely rob him of breath. In the next moment, when his senses returned, he saw Scarface lying in an undignified heap on the marble floor, dark blood quickly pooling around him, and Alec and Max already poised for action. Then his eyes traveled down the length of the cold hallway, finally resting on the man who had a handgun pointed right at Max's heart.
He was one of those men who only grow handsome with age and an increase in profits. He was perfectly groomed – his silvery hair and beard perfectly clipped and trimmed – and his suit looked to be of the finest quality. Nevertheless, the scowl on his face lent him a decidedly sinister appearance, as did the gun in his hand. His eyes frozen to that dangerous piece of metal, Logan forgot about his own experiences, and concentrated on fighting down the nausea that resulted from seeing a weapon aimed at Max, and at such a distance that it would be impossible for her assailant to miss.
"Well, you know what they say about good help," the man shrugged, but his aim never wavered.
"That it's illegal to kill them?" Max snapped.
"Or maybe you don't. Mr. Cale could probably tell you. He is from a good family after all."
"I don't recall my father ever shooting the maid," Logan replied dryly, doing his best not to react to the instinctive feeling of panic produced by the man's obvious knowledge of Logan's own background. He remembered his own gun, and slowly raised it. Now it was two guns against one – Alec and Logan versus Patterson, with Max in the middle, unarmed and desperate for answers.
"What do you want, Patterson?" Max asked, slowly crossing her arms in front of her in that scornful way that was so decidedly her own. She and Patterson stared each other down. Alec, Logan, and Will were ignored. This was a battle between the two of them.
"Oh, it's simple, really," Patterson sighed dramatically. "I want my money back."
"Yeah, that makes sense," Alec mumbled under his breath. Logan glanced over in time to catch the X5's raised eyebrows, but Patterson ignored the sarcasm just as easily as he seemed to disregard Alec's very existence. His aim on Max never faltered. His hand didn't even tremble as he kept it trained on her heart. From what Patterson learned on the surveillance tapes, he probably knew that neither Logan nor Alec would make a move that would endanger Max, and, so long as he was aiming at her, he was guaranteed their good behavior.
The staring contest between Max and Patterson continued. The smirk on the man's face was goading, as if he was daring her to figure out for herself what his motives were. However, Max did not seem to be in any hurry to oblige him. She never said a word, just stood defiantly in front of him, and it seemed to Logan that she was taunting Patterson with her silence, her contempt, and her strength. The length of the wordless confrontation was no more than five minutes, but it seemed to crawl by so slowly that, when Patterson finally spoke again, Logan felt he'd already aged at least five years.
"Twenty years ago, I invested twelve million dollars into Manticore," Patterson finally spat, though he had by no means lost his cool.
Well, that made a little more sense. Patterson was in bed with Manticore. It didn't explain why they were standing in the hallway of his mansion, with guns pointed at each other, while he and Max stared each other down like two cowboys in one of the pre-Pulse Westerns, but it did fit another piece into the giant jigsaw puzzle that was this situation. At least they had the man's motives narrowed down to money and Manticore. That didn't explain the voyeurism, but maybe that was just the sicko's thing. As Logan's thoughts raced through the consequences of what they were learning, Patterson continued to speak. As he listened closer, however, all thoughts of diagnosing Patterson's probable psychological deviance left Logan's mind, and the chill realization of what was going on slowly crawled up Logan's spine, leaving a feeling of icy emptiness in its wake.
"I never saw a dime of it returned. Not a single cent. They took my money and ran with it." He chuckled, a low, dangerous, unnerving sound, "Well, actually, Manticore took the money, and you – you, 452, and your little friends – ran with the technology."
Technology. Patterson Electronics. Of course, it all made perfect sense. Patterson was a businessman. He didn't care who he crushed, and he certainly didn't care to whom he sold his technology. As long as he received the price he wanted, he would sell anything to anyone. He was going to sell Max and Alec to the highest bidder. He probably already had a buyer lined up.
Max shrugged nonchalantly, "So?"
Did she know what Patterson had in mind? She had to. Logan watched her carefully. Her stance hadn't changed, not really... Yet… was there a slight hesitancy in her stance, was she tenser than she had been a moment before? Logan couldn't tell if she'd figured it out, or if he was merely praying she had. No, she'd probably solved it long before him, right? Hell, she'd been in a similar situation before. Logan chanced another glance in Alec's direction and was rewarded by a slight nod. Alec knew, and Max must know as well.
"So?" Patterson laughed. "So your ride will be here any minute now. I hope you and your 'cousin' enjoy your new home. I've heard South Africa is lovely this time of year."
There it was. Patterson openly acknowledged that he was planning to sell Manticore technology, in the form of the two X5s, to the South Africans, to the Reds, most likely. How had the Reds become a problem again, and without Logan even realizing it? He felt a familiar twinge of guilt. He should have kept closer tabs on the situation. If he'd known the Reds had regrouped, he might have known the direction this was heading in before they were forced to crash into it.
Suddenly, and without warning, in the instant Logan was mentally kicking himself, Patterson was no longer pointing his gun at Max. He was pointing it at Logan, who could only acknowledge that it was certainly an interesting turn of events. He froze as his eyes again locked on the gun. It wasn't pointed at his heart, but at his head. Patterson didn't mean for Logan to be a negotiation tool. He was just… unnecessary. Patterson had what he wanted, and Logan wasn't needed.
Once again the memories of the bullets ripping through his back, the muscles, the nerves, the instant of pain followed by nauseating numbness, and then blackness, all flooded through Logan's memory. He remembered gasping desperately for breath, a flash of holding Max in his arms as she died, hospital rooms... Well, at least being shot in the head was bound to hurt less, he figured. Tearing his eyes from the gun, Logan forced himself to stay focused on his surroundings. Alec still had his gun trained on Patterson. For that matter, so did Logan himself. Max, had turned slightly, so she could see both Patterson and Logan. That was when it occurred to Logan that he wasn't going to die just then.
"If you don't go," Patterson said slowly, and once more Logan realized that only seconds had passed, "I'll shoot him in the head. If you resist, I'll shoot him in the gut," at which point he lowered his gun to aim at Logan's waist and added, "which, as you must know, is a long, drawn out, and very painful way to die."
Well, so much for not being a negotiation tool. He met Max's eyes from what seemed like a great distance, though he was only a few feet away, and realized that he was being ridiculous. It was three against one. With a short sigh of impatience, and in a move that surprised even himself, though he only realized it later, Logan lowered his gun, and shot Patterson in the leg.
Alec reacted as only a highly trained, battle-hardened thinker can react. He knew what needed to be done, and he didn't wait for instructions. In an instant, he was pushing the staggering Patterson to the floor. He wrenched the gun out of the injured man's grip in what looked like a painful move, and kicked it down the hall, far from Patterson's reach. He did a quick search for further weapons, and, finding none, proceeded to place a heavy foot on Patterson's chest to keep him on the ground. Then, he looked to Max. It was, after all, her show.
"Remind me not to tag along the next time you two decide to get a home movie back," he quipped, though his voice was far from amused, and, despite the situation, Logan almost laughed. Maybe it was rubbing off, the way in which the X5s relieved tension by making jokes. Max grimaced as she turned her attention to her former-future-almost-maybe-father-in-law, who was gripping his leg, an anguished look on his face, his body curled halfway into the fetal position.
"Time to answer some questions," Max said calmly as she looked down into the injured man's face. Patterson ignored her, though only because his attention was somewhat occupied by the pain in his leg.
A/N: I decided to bring the Reds back because for Patterson to sell Max and Alec to terrorists, I would have to name a country, religion, or organization for said terrorists to belong to, and I refuse to do so. I'm going to stick with what I was given in the show. TBC... and with all haste, I assure you.