DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel and NCIS are not mine, the characters borrowed; only "profits" are the occasional review...

THANKS to those returning and tolerating my updating delays. Real Life has been calling. Trouble is, Logan & Tony have been, too...

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 7, 2020 10:43 A.M.
Old Downtown, area of 8th & Pike

The ebullience Logan had demonstrated as he pulled back into traffic had faded quickly, and he was now muttering under his breath in frustration at the slow progress they made. Cutting into alleys and side streets to move through the downtown streets, finally managing a ramp and check- point to the interstate, at last they moved without interference toward Sector 9. Thumbing a button on the hand control at his right, Logan released his hold and grabbed at his phone to hit the speed dial button for last call. Now urging Sketchy to answer, he tucked the phone under his ear to free his hand for the accelerator/brake control, should it be needed. Tony gave him a sidelong glance but decided not to comment...

"Sketchy," Logan's voice sounded his relief. "What's going on?"

"She found him, Logan–Max is there, talking with your guy now..."

"What? Where?" Logan unconsciously eased his speed upward a little. "You see them?"

"Yeah, they're in your garage...eh, wait a minute..." Sketchy's delay chafed. "Some woman is getting out of the car...and..." There was a shift. "Yeah...she saw me, Max just saw me, but I don't think he has; he never turned..."

Logan shot a look at his cousin and grabbed at the phone to hold it as he popped on the cruise control again. "Tony, call my cell, the one Max has..." He turned back to listen for Sketchy as Tony complied. "Sketchy, what are they doing?"

"I can hear it ring, and...hey, are you sure you called Max? 'Cos it's your friend's phone that's ringing..."

Logan grimaced, understanding. "Or he has hers, too..."

"Logan, he just walked over and laid it...shit!" There was a clank, and a scramble...and shortly, a voice. "He almost saw me," Sketchy came back to breathe into the phone–apparently he'd caught onto the idea that they didn't want Bling to know he was being watched. "Look, he took the phone and left it on the retaining wall in the garage and...and both he and Max are getting into his car."

"Damn it" Logan breathed. "Sketchy, as far as possible...I need you to follow them, see where they go. You should be okay as long as they don't get up on the highway, right?"

"Yeah, they can't go that fast around here..."

"And if at all possible...don't let Bling see you. He'll shake you as soon as he does."

"No problem. I beat the sector cops all the time..." Sketchy assured him, his voice cocky.

"He's a lot better at this than the sector cops..." Logan muttered, then relented. "Look, as much as you can do...we're pretty close and maybe can take over in a couple minutes. Can you give us a street by street?"

"I'm on it. They're pulling out..."

Sketchy's enthusiasm in being swept up in sudden cloak and dagger caused a flash of frustrated anger in Logan. Keenly aware that this was not a game, and these two people so important to him were making ready to go face down a serial killer, he tried to remember that the messenger's exuberance just might allow him to catch up with Max and Bling. He swallowed his irritation to say honestly, "I owe you, Sketchy–hang on a sec..." Again balancing the phone between shoulder and ear, Logan slowed to pull off toward an exit ramp, driving with the phone making his movements awkward. "Tony?"

With a quick nod, Tony grabbed the phone and said, "Hey, Sketchy–this is Tony, Logan's cousin, I..." He paused abruptly; his face shifted wryly to say briefly, "Yeah, ya think? No, you're not the first..." He rolled his eyes toward Logan, confirming that the old comment had again arisen and refusing to be suckered into the irony. "Look–Logan needs both hands for driving; if you can tell me where they are, I can tell him..."

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 7, 2020 10:49A.M.
Sector 9; Vicinity, Fogle Towers

Max let Bling pull out into traffic before speaking. She'd seen Sketchy as he popped in and out of view, cell phone at his ear and talking animatedly, even waving at her. She had hoped it was Logan he had on the line, and when she managed to look a bit more carefully as he spoke, and trained her attention on him, straining to hear even across the street, she'd been rewarded: Sketchy said his name, at least once. He must have been alerted; it had to be Logan calling his cell moments later, as it rang in Bling's hand...

She had to hope Logan would take care of himself, because she sensed that whatever time they had left to themselves, it was not long–and it needed to be used wisely. "What are you planning?" she asked Bling.

"The amphitheater at the Quay...do you know it?"

Max looked at him sharply, eyes narrowing. "You're thinking to box him in?" At Bling's nod, she narrated, "You're going in the back way, assuming he'll set up looking outward, from the stage..." At a second nod, she sat back "I don't like it. Too many variables, too heavily dependent on his doing what you hope he'll do..."

"Max, it's all we have. There's no time for anything more. He's killed two of my team mates already and he's not likely to stop with me. He's a sniper who has killed at a distance without the authorities catching on how or from where. He can't have been in Seattle long enough to have checked out the place or to know that the blind entry is there–he'll assume I chose it to watch him approach." As always, Bling's words were reasoned, calm...only this time he spun a plot that was as thin as the time afforded him to plan it, on his feet with the kid on the line. "This way, I'll be able to get close enough to assess the situation before he knows I'm there, and with luck–take him from behind." Bling stared ahead at the road, working to convince himself as he did Max. "Besides, " he finally glanced to his passenger, noting her reaction and not surprised at her troubled look. "He said he has questions for me. He's not intending to take me out right away."

"Why? He didn't have questions for the others."

"He knew I was the one to find his father, the last to see him alive–and the one who first called it as a suicide. I suspect he has his doubts about my reports–or wants to–and wants to be convinced that his father didn't kill himself." Bling paused, and admitted, "It's all about his father, Max. He thinks Denny abandoned him."

"Then why kill the others?"

Bling shrugged. "He blames each of us for not stopping his father's death. He can hold on to that, even if he has to concede the suicide, that we didn't see it and stop it–that I didn't." At her look, questioning, he explained, "it was my job, as medic, to be sure each team member was fit and battle ready– both physically and mentally." He looked back to the streets as he pulled up onto the ramp toward the interstate, slowing for the access checkpoint. "And if not suicide...we should have prevented his death..."

"Well, if it wasn't suicide–how does he think he was killed?"

Bling shrugged. "Don't know. He might not know–just that he can't accept the idea that his father would leave him, take the cowardly way out..."

Her eyebrows flickered at that. "Cowardly..." she repeated, softly.

"Isn't that what Manticore would call it? It sure as hell was the service's reaction...and whatever Gregory might have thought, growing up, I suspect those thoughts were solidified at the Academy." Bling drew a deep breath and signed, "He's doing all he can to clear his father's name and memory, in his eyes." He was quiet for a moment, and spoke, softly. "He wants me to be his father's murderer–and is willing to murder anyone who doesn't go along with his program."

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 7, 2020 10:49A.M.
Sector 9; Vicinity, Interstate access

"Sketchy...we're paralleling you, a block over and in the alley..." Tony elaborated Logan's brief words as his cousin maneuvered down back alleys and passageways made narrow with trucks unloading, crates piling behind the handful of remaining swank stores and restaurants in the monied sector. "As soon as he makes you, if he does, let us know & we'll come over to follow...'til then, and until the alleys run out, we're staying out of sight."

It made so much sense that even a space cadet like this "Sketchy" guy could give such precise directions, Tony conceded. A bike messenger–what a stroke of genius, to have a network of those who could blend in, who knew the city like the backs of their hands and who could move quickly and efficiently without dependence on often-scarce gasoline or frequently-clogged streets. They had said Max worked there too–must be some sort of cover, Tony reflected, she wasn't the type to be just a bike messenger. No, it was convenient, for far too many reasons...and far too many motives...

"I know where he's going..." Logan said suddenly, grim. "We'll be on the interstate in about three blocks, then on northeast." Logan turned toward the ramp now from the alley, seeing Bling's car start up its path.

Watching Logan put the pieces of Bling's plan together, Tony turned back to speak into the phone. His eyes never left his cousin 's face. "Sketchy–you're a lifesaver, man. We've got it from here–thanks."

"Glad to help–you guys be careful, whatever you're up to."

"Got it." Tony flipped the phone shut and sat back, not speaking, still watching Logan, waiting for the explanation his silence demanded. After a moment, it came...

"Bling's thinking this is the one place he can corner the guy...the problem is, if this kid figures it out–Bling will be the one trapped, no where to go. It's remote...and it's the only place he vetted himself, in depth." He wavered, then admitted, "we thought I couldn't get to it in the chair."

Notwithstanding the trace of self-directed bitterness, Tony heard what was behind the word choice and was curious. "...but you did..." Tony prodded, carefully.

"Yeah, later. Max and I...managed." Logan said shortly, clearly not ready to explain. He dropped back, following at a distance so he'd not be seen, confident now in their destination. After a moment, he began again. "Before the Pulse, this place was a resort, with condos and deep harbor slips, all the amenities. After the Pulse the owners haven't had the money to maintain it, few clients had the money to take pricey vacations. Half the structures have been condemned, what's left of them after vandals and squatters took their share. It's nearly always empty now; too far from the city center to be handy for squatters to stay, with all the nearby supply sources used up." Logan drove smoothly in the center lane, and every so often Tony could see Bling's car as it curved eastward along the highway. "On the grounds there's an outdoor amphitheater that appears for all the world to be the perfect place for a last stand: from the stage, it seems as if you can see all comers, with the area out across the audience and way beyond that open, no cover or places to hide. The stage and its structures allow for a perfect view outward with lots of cover. And from all outward appearances, it backs up against the bluff overlooking the water, without any way to get inside from the rear." Logan slowed as Bling's car took a ramp off the highway and, dropping back further, Logan did, too. "But it was designed to have a hidden access, both in the approach to the theater complex and onto the stage area itself, a way to sneak acts in and out without being seen by anyone who doesn't know where to look. I'd put money on this, that Bling gave him the location and a time to meet, knowing that this guy would go early and take position. Bling's going to go just a few minutes early to make the guy start to think he's coming at the arranged time–but he'll be invisible, coming in through the blindspot."

Tony shook his head, admiring the concept if not Bling's chances. "Makes sense, doesn't it? A sniper who hasn't been tracked yet–what better than to try to force him into some position, so at least you have some idea where he'll be?"

But there was more bothering his cousin; Tony could see it, clearly. And after another moment, Logan added, "Bling's going to try to take him alive and, if it doesn't work...he'd have tried where no one else would be around, to be hurt." Logan smacked the wheel in frustration, feeling powerless. "Damn it–this Parks kid knows Bling was a SEAL–he's got to realize that Bling wouldn't set up a sniper in such a perfect location..."

Tony shrugged, "at least if he gets suspicious, it doesn't sound like there's much opportunity for Parks to switch gears and ambush them from a different spot." As he thought about it, he had to concede that Bling's choice would get the job done, one way or the other. A SEAL, alright...

They rode in silence for several moments, Bling's car still in view much of the time, heading out toward the water. Letting his thoughts play over everything that had happened thus far, Tony found another question arising...

"But what's he got in mind for Max?" Tony asked, glancing to his cousin, wondering what part she might have had in things. Would her part in this have been planned?

He saw Logan's eyebrows lift in consideration. "Good question–he knows she won't just wait in the car, and now he has to decide what help she can be."

"Any chance she was in on it, with Bling?"

"Max? No...if he'd approached her, she'd have let me know..." Logan said firmly.

"Well, she's there now and didn't call you," Tony was just as stubborn.

"Bling had her phone–he must have gotten it somehow..." Logan frowned, knowing that Tony could believe that Bling could have gotten it against Max's will...but now wondering himself why she handed it over. A deal of some sort, then...so she'd be there to get Bling's back.

And that, Logan realized, both comforted and chilled him...

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 7, 2020 10:55A.M.
Sector 11; Vicinity, the Quay

"You'd let him kill you before you'd take him out, wouldn't you, Bling?"

They had ridden in silence, Max assessing the plan with what little they knew about the circumstances, and she didn't like the set up. She considered asking Bling to let her handle it, alone, and suspected he wouldn't agree. She also wondered about incapacitating Bling, stuffing him in the trunk so she could work alone...

Unnecessary, she conceded. Bling's training was nearly as thorough as hers; he wouldn't be as likely to get in the way as a civilian might. She sighed, though, realizing where he might be a liability–and decided to face it. He would do all he could, including increase the risk to himself, to avoid harm to this disturbed kid, the son of his teammate, his friend. "Your training with the monks was more recent than with the Navy..." She murmured, and considered the man she knew to take his faith that seriously, and sighed. "Did you even bring a weapon?"

Bling shrugged, and, not proud of the answer, nodded. "Gregory has already killed two, and I'm not sure that he'd stop without trying for you and Logan and Tony...I can't let that happen" Bling glanced her way, explaining "he mentioned you three, so had been doing some recent recon, at least since Tony's been here. He might not want to leave anyone behind who might ID him as the killer. And there are two more guys from the team still living..." Bling's voice remained steady, but with some effort, Max could hear. "So, no matter how, it has to end here."

"Then we have to be sure that we can take him down before he has time to do more than say 'thanks for coming out...'" Max stared ahead as they curved off the highway, slowly and subtly shifting so that, with a bare flick of her eyes, she would be able to look into the rear view mirror at her side, maybe without his noticing her...it wouldn't matter, would it, in these circumstances? But if she were right...

She did not hurry; she'd been well trained to bide her time. And after several minutes, on her third glance, she knew she'd been right when she saw a dirty, familiar Aztek trailing them by several car lengths... she looked back to the road. Bling was right; under the circumstances, forcing Gregory onto the stage was probably the best option they had. She sighed, looking back to him. "You've been up through the tunnels to the stage?"

He nodded. "Have you?" At her own nod, he pointed out, "once inside, any sound will carry–so no talking. We need to decide as much as we can here."

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON: February 7, 2020 11:06A.M.
Sector 11; The Quay

Logan had driven the Aztek along a far drive in painful slowness, having watched Bling's car turn onto the narrow trails toward the theater complex and the shallow tunnels that would take them the several hundred yards around to the back entrance of the theater. Once on the grounds, Logan didn't want to be seen by anyone as he approached, Bling or Gregory Parks. He pulled into a copse of birch trees and brush, to park out of sight.

"Once in–sound carries like it's amplified." Logan warned. "If he has a clue, and is listening– well, sitting ducks come to mind. And even if not...the sound can travel up on to the stage. It's so quiet out here that without other sound to mask it..." He unhooked his seatbelt and half turned to the back, where his chair waited. "The tunnels go down to a 'T' and then branch, both going straight up ladder-steps into a stage entry, just inside of the proscenium arch on either side. Both should be open; both have trap doors that slide back along the underside of the stage..."

Tony mused at that. " Trap doors in the floor, eh?" He was quiet for a moment, then suddenly reached to the visor in front of him. Flipping it down, he grinned widely and pulled at the vanity mirror, which slipped out of the framed holder. "Mind if I borrow this–just in case?" Logan shrugged, not getting it, but shaking it off as he opened his door. Eyes narrowing, Tony knew the inevitable was coming and wondered if he'd be able to get away without a fight. He opened his own door and turned to say, "Okay, well, look–maybe you should call your buddy Matt or something; I'll go on in and see..." Maybe if he just believed it would be that easy, it would be, he hoped, doggedly.

But no, Logan was hauling pieces of his chair out to assemble at the open door, not reacting to his cousin's words. There's a surprise... the agent's cynicism prodded.

Tony sighed, watching him work, building a chair at his feet while refusing to acknowledge Tony's scrutiny. Weighing how to do this, DiNozzo finally came around to Logan's door, speaking low in case someone was out even this far from the building. "Don't do this, Logan. Let me go."

"You can go." Logan wouldn't meet his eyes as he finished the chair and moved into it, quickly. "But I'm coming, too."

"Why? You said you couldn't get in, and that the tunnels end in a ladder–"

"I can show you where..."

"It doesn't sound that complicated." Tony interrupted. "Don't be so stubborn, Logan. It might be better, anyway, if you had you car running, ready to move..." Tony knew it sounded lame as he said it. "Look, this is a Federal investigation, and I've let you in on it so far, but I can put you under arrest for interfering with an investigation and just...handcuff you to the car..." It took all his skill not to grimace at his feeble threat.

"'Let me in?'" Logan gaped at his words. "Seems to me we local 'amateurs' have been doing all the work, cuz..." His anger flared, stoked by his fear for Bling and Max. "I don't give a rat's ass what you do to me afterward, but I am damn well not going to sit on my ass with my best friends, my cousin and a serial killer three hundred yards away and me twiddling my thumbs!"

Tony stood silent, staring at the man his cousin had become. He wondered, at that moment, if he had ever admired anyone more... He finally nodded, not proud of his earlier attempts. "You're right. This has been your ball game, all around." He paused again, to ask, sensibly, "Once you get to the 'T'–where will you go?"

Logan's eyes flickered, not altogether happy with the taste of his success, but shoving it aside for the moment. "The tunnels continue on around a bit...I might be able to get another vantage point..."

"Without being seen?"

"I think so." At Tony's look of consternation, he amended. "We played around with this, Tony; I'm sure of the sight lines, just...not so sure how far I can go. But it's worth a try."

Tony wavered, considering Logan, remembering the same green eyes, all of four adoring years old, full of joy and pride at the cheers of his older cousin when he finally mastered a real, head-first dive off the pier...the same Logan who wanted to try now, wanted to dive, for his friends... "Well, then, let's go." Tony agreed, grimly. "Or they might start the party without us..."

...to be continued...