DISCLAIMER: Insert previous ones here.
A/N: A special thanks goes out to three of you who in the past weeks have offered factual input, laughs and serious impingement on my day job...but for your appearances in my mailbox, these stories wouldn't be moving forward. These are my virtual thank you gifts, a special one for each you: a full WEEK at the spa; independent wealth for unlimited coffee, DVDs, and time on the ground; and a Bourbon Street shopping trip for two...
FOGLE TOWERS, 10:15 A.M.Garage
Bling got out of his car and frowned to see that the Aztek was still not in its stall. This was day three that Logan had gone without his workout, and there was no telling when he would settle down and let Bling do the needed ROM exercises...
He didn't like it. Of course he worried about what he could only imagine was happening to Logan's immobile, and now unworked joints, let alone what other medical matters he might be ignoring, but it was more than that. Something was going on and Logan was shutting him out. He still took his role as trainer and protector very seriously, but with Logan, you had to have a little help from him to keep up with his schedule and projects. Now, he was running the other way. The company thing, the 'drones... his family and all their skeletons, all had been working on the normally driven man to lead him away from his usual schedule...and his usual connections. Bling hated to think about how the personal aspects of this one tugged at his charge. Slamming his car door shut, Bling turned to go toward the elevator. Enough was enough. He'd wait until the man appeared, and would not let him off the hook...
He'd nearly reached the elevator when he heard the soft, distinctive purr in the distance, and slowed. His suspicions proved right. The purr rose to a mechanical roar as Max drove in on her Ninja, pulling up alongside Bling.
"He's not here?" Max was worried too, clearly–no greeting, no wasted words–she was moving into her own, protector mode, and it told Bling that Logan must be avoiding her, too. This wasn't good...
"Just going up, but no, there's no reason I know that he'd be here if the car's not." Bling watched her closely as Max nodded, seeing her thoughts racing ahead. "When was the last time you talked to him?"
"Yesterday–and even then I was 'interrupting'..." Bling's expression began to sink in to her thoughts, and she knew her concern was legitimate. "What about you?"
"Wednesday."
Wednesday? Bling, his exercises..."
"Yeah, I know. He does too, but..." The man shrugged, his consternation not as clear on his face as was his concern. "I've got some time today. I'll just stay 'til he gets back."
"You don't know where he is, or how long he'll be, do you?"
Bling shook his head. "No, but that's okay. I have some work up there that I can do..." He paused before admitting the rest to Max, knowing she'd understand the significance–and knew she ought to hear it as well. "Someone needs to get his messages and e-mail...the drop box was full and I think the other things haven't been checked for a while..."
Her eyes darted to his with a level of worry he'd rarely seen in Max–he imagined she saw it in his as well. "Bling, that's not like him..."
He nodded. "I know. And for all his griping, neither is letting more than a day go by without his ROM –the stiffness and spasms creep up on him fast enough that he usually gives in without too much delay."
"What is all this?" Her tone carried her frustration with being helpless to 'fix' things. "Is this just the damn Cale Industries thing? It's gotta be more than that..."
"I don't know if it is..." Bling's voice was low, as they spoke in the deserted garage. No telling who or what, in addition to Fogle Towers' own security system, might be listening. "There's enough there to hold him. He's bound and determined to get behind the murders–and the 'drones. He's acting as if he's responsible, since he's learned family's involved..."
Max understood immediately, flashing back to her own need to– 'address' –Ben's killing spree. She shivered, knowing she understood more than Bling could how obsessive such a crusade could be–especially in Logan...
"...and, he seems to feel responsible for the company, for the loss of jobs and stock value and reputation...I don't really know Bennett, but I think he was going to agree to the place being sold before Logan swooped in..."
Max nodded in understanding, agreeing immediately with the therapist's assessment. "Give all that to Logan, and I guess this isn't surprising–look how wrapped up he gets with other people's problems..."
Bling's chuckle was soft–ironic, without humor. He paused a moment, then offered, "Look–do you want to come up?"
She shook her head. "I can't just sit around...I may get out there & see what I can find."
His eyebrows went up. "Where?"
She shrugged, frustrated. "I don't know–but somewhere. Maybe the Company..."
Bling looked skeptical. "Have you been out there? Not the easiest place to sneak in, sight unseen."
Finally, with his words, Max grinned a very Max grin. "True–but then, you haven't really seen me sneak in places, sight unseen, have you?" With a flash of her milky white teeth, Max started up her bike and her eyes carried the hope that Bling could once again force some sense into Logan. "I'll swing by there once it gets dark. And see what I can find, before then." She pulled on her glasses, and added, "Good luck. Tell him..." She paused. "Tell him I'm around."
Bling nodded his understanding, stepping back as she revved the engine. "I will." He watched the black form ride off and away before finally moving toward the waiting elevator...
FOGLE TOWERS, 2:53 P.M.Garage
It was nearly 3:00 when Logan pulled back into his garage. He felt a little more settled than when he'd left, knowing that he had Jake lined up at CI to give him an inside look at things, but still fought what this might mean to the engineer, this "informant" engendering more protective concern from him than his usual EO contacts. With rare exceptions, those working for EO in any position that could threaten them knew exactly what they were doing, and accepted the risks. With Jake–clearly, his suspicions made him nervous, yet he'd wholeheartedly agreed to help out the boss. But Logan wasn't convinced that, if his own suspicions were correct, Jake could really understand just how deadly these "buyers" could be...
He'd fought ripples of guilt as he drove home after several hours at CI, the 40 minutes of bottled traffic and slow check points not only making him irritated with the loss of time he didn't have to give today, but giving him more time alone with his thoughts. Had he signed Jake up only to be disappeared, just like his friends? He reflected how easily the kid had spoken with him, told him things that he certainly knew could get him into trouble. Maybe if he had a talk with him, reminded him to be careful...
His thoughts were split into a dozen different threads, some more insistent than others: The satisfaction of lining up a new source was strained by his concern for Jake and the guilt he felt for having to put the engineer in the position of agreeing to help him... The ever-present nagging to figure out the who and what of the unidentified trio wasn't appreciably lessened by having Jake on board; the new information that they might also have biochemical aspirations, whether from Cale Industries or elsewhere, made his concern about them even greater... His evening plans, although irritatingly banal in light of the other issues pressing on him, were not only a vital link to this world he needed to re-enter, but the most immediate. Even more threads intertwined there: several tasks to complete before the evening, at least made easier by Daphne having agreed, thoughtfully, to come to his place, as he was nearer the Pier than she–a call to the tailor, if his trousers hadn't been delivered yet...a shower and shave...some homework to update information on some shareholders he anticipated seeing at the event...and several dark battles he had to overcome, as he wrestled with having to face the same vicious crowd who had taken such delight in watching his discomfort, the distaste of moving back into this life sharp...
And...over all, as much as it pained him...Max...
She never completely left his thoughts, but he was more immediately reminded of her as he heard his belly growl yet again, demanding more than coffee. He'd grab something to take the edge off, as he waited for dinner...thoughts of Max washed over him as he sat at the unmoving checkpoint mere blocks from his home, allowing the other concerns to dim a wee bit...
...EO's stomach hadn't growled so much in the past weeks and months as it did, back a year or so ago; Max's frequent stops for dinner and an occasional lunch made him more likely to have good, nourishing meals at regular intervals, even if she often did end up eating more than he did. Hell, he mused, even an empty stomach can make me think of Max. But every reason he thought of her, every reason he longed for her to be there with him, was yet another reason why he needed to keep her at arm's length on this one. He needed to be as dark as Jonas, for which he was ashamed; he needed to circulate pleasantly amid the crowd who would mock him, which would shame him, and who would skewer her, which would enrage him. He needed to investigate those who might well be Manticore... which could destroy her...
And if that happened, he knew that this time there would be no reason not to pull the trigger...
He shook off the morose thoughts as he started to move again, even allowing a wry, private thought to himself: if she could read his mind at this moment, Max would at first be concerned and upset with his brooding fatalism...and then just mad enough to make good on previous threats to kick his ass. Mental images of just how she would do so filled his thoughts the last block or two...
Damn...
As he turned into the garage, Logan saw that Bling's car was parked at the curb in front of his building, and gave very brief thought to leaving again. No way, not nearly enough time to do what I have to do, let alone time to run from him...or to do my reps... Logan pulled in, turned off the car's motor and sat still for a moment, considering. Short of phoning in some false emergency at the hospital, asking Bling to come in and help–
...hmmm...not bad, he gave himself. Maybe...
He shook it off, a bit ashamed at entertaining the thought but filing it away for future pinches. He opened the door to get out, knowing there was nothing to be done except face the music, maybe promise a raincheck for tomorrow, if Bling was available. As if in self-rebuke, a spasm rattled the leg he was moving out of the footwell toward the pavement. The consequences immediately struck him: not tonight, he grimaced...not with a crowd he needed to impress with his ability to steer CI, his strength despite the chair...not with a crowd looking for weakness in one of Seattle's Cales, they who all were tumbling from grace...not tonight, when he couldn't afford to take his meds to control them, not when he needed to be sharp and when he needed to be able to drink with them, assure everyone he was still one of them...Not when he was moments away from a lecture from Bling that exactly this sort of thing would happen...
The tremors did not stop but were quieter as he continued to move out of the car. He could no longer deny that his joints were a bit stiffer, three days without a workout; his transfer wasn't as fluid. He told you so, his conscience mocked...
FOGLE TOWERS, 3:06 P.M.Penthouse
Bling heard the door and sat back from the computer, glancing at his watch. Drawing a deep breath, he willed himself to remain centered, unruffled. He expected that Logan would be intractable, but beyond that he wasn't sure how to read him these days, only that he wasn't himself, with the events at CI. His own worry and irritation with the stubborn man would not gain his acquiescence, Bling reminded himself...
He remained seated, waiting to see if Logan came this way immediately or not. His wait was brief. Logan appeared in the doorway, apparently not surprised to see him. "Hey" he began, tentatively.
"Hey" Bling immediately heard his voice sound more accusative than he wanted. He drew a steadying breath and tried again. "You've been busy."
Logan nodded. "Yeah."
"Yeah." Bling echoed. "So, I had some time today and thought I'd just wait, til you were back."
Logan's expression involuntarily shifted into his awkwardly-pained one. "Look, I'm sorry you stayed, but I have to..."
"No, you don't..." Bling interrupted, the steadying breath obviously insufficient this time. "Three days, Logan...and try to tell me you haven't felt it. If you won't..." He tipped his chin at Logan's form. "Look at your right knee."
Logan involuntarily glanced down to see his leg twitching, the knee pulling slightly at an odd angle, the spasm even more insistent than in the car. He searched for words in response but had little; he looked back up to his therapist to finally shrug, "I have to be ready to leave at 7:30."
"Forty five minutes."
"Thirty..."
"Forty five at least." Bling was firm, "unless it's a dance contest and you're planning for that to pass as your entry. By the time 7:30 rolls around you'll have them both banging away at the footrest, maybe even tapping on the floor." The words were sharp, the sarcasm uncharacteristically exaggerated for Bling. "Was that what you're going for?"
Logan looked up at Bling, hearing the anger in the man's words, wanting to be angry back–hell, he was exhausted, he was fighting to salvage a company his uncle had destroyed, to discover who murdered the parolees...he was fighting the reality of what he'd started putting together. All that, all he gave of himself, and now Bling was on his back, too?
...but he couldn't feel anger...not when he knew why Bling was angry...not when he appreciated more than he could express not only what this man had done for him, but the fierce loyalty and care he showed him, no matter his moods or complaining... Not anger, then...the only thing he could offer was concession...
"...okay..." he sighed... "I'll go change.."
Bling frowned at the disappearing back. Something was going on and Logan was shutting him out...
Silently, he stood to go get the training table ready...
CALE INDUSTRIES, 7:11 P.M.Back gates
Max sat on a small rise overlooking Cale Industries, a final consideration of the property as a whole, letting her thoughts open to process any small clues or chinks that might be handy down the line...for what, Max wasn't sure. But it was a part of her training and she would file away anything she could, in case it was useful later.
She had circled the property, not leaving her bike or the road surrounding it until she saw a what she hoped was a blind spot in the security system, allowing an off-road ride closer to the perimeter...she didn't stop moving but just puttered along, assessing for future use, trying to find some inspiration as to what she could do. No great ideas...no real need to break in...
Logan, what the hell can we do to help you with this? 'Cos, sure as anything, you're not giving up this fight, not at least until you have some of your answers...
Nothing else to be done here...and maybe, finally, he was back home...glancing at her watch, she saw it was after 7:00. Maybe one last try...and she turned her bike to urge it on back toward town and Logan...
FOGLE TOWERS, 7:57 P.M.Garage
Max pulled in, steered her bike back behind a support beam, and switched off the engine. In the immediate quiet she heard voices, muffled, within the mechanical hum of the elevator. It was coming down, the conversation inside carried to her sensitive ears. And what she heard first was Logan's voice...
"...sorry I was running late." Logan's voice was light, carrying the charm he used to get his way or wheedle forgiveness, becoming clearer in the garage's soft echo as the elevator doors opened. "It was a pretty full day..."
"That's okay...even if it was another hour, we wouldn't be the last. You know they battle to see who can be the most fashionably late." The feminine voice in response was cultured, amused...familiar. Max pressed back into the shadows to watch, breath caught...and saw the forms emerging from the elevator...
"Right, I'd forgotten." Max felt a lump thicken in her throat as she saw Logan move past her, unaware of her presence, in expensive sport coat and open collar, again shaven and elegant, as he was meant to be... At his side, yet again, was the woman Max met at Bennett's reception, when Logan could barely tear his eyes from her... He was laughing. "Tell me again why we're going to a party with these people?"
Daphne was smiling, at ease in a softly flowing, short designer dress, long legs in feminine heels, expensive jewelry glittering at her ears, her graceful form moving with Logan as if the chair didn't faze her, either...Max squeezed her eyes shut, fighting to breathe normally, fighting the desire to attack her and claim Logan for herself, fighting the unfamiliar emotions of jealousy and desire and heartbreak...
It was becoming harder and harder to hold on to the idea that this was a mission for him...
She waited long minutes, until the aristocratic couple had gotten into the Aztek and driven off into the night, before she could move. Heartsick, she climbed back onto the Ninja to head out into the darkness, at a loss to know where to go but knowing she couldn't go home, not with the emotions tearing at her, unresolved.
If this is what it feels like to be a 'real girl,' she ached, maybe I am meant more for the likes of Manticore...
To be continued...