My aim was to post everything on my website but I've had a complaint or two of readers who can't get it or download it. So, here it is and I'll post both sites from here on.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Goddamn!"
Stuck in a snowdrift, I grind the clutch and gears rocking my truck back and forth. The radio drones: Hazardous weather warning. Heavy snow, high winds, sub-zero temperatures; blizzard warning.
Ya think?
Three hundred and fifty horses under the hood buck and rumble. The cab reeks of overheated transmission. Progress measures in inches until tires find traction propelling three and a half tons of metal in a yawing forward motion.
Lucky me, I repeat the same drill twice more plus chisel ice off windshield wipers before plowing my way, wet and shivering, into the half circle drive in front of Charlie's mansion. Vic and I are in for a helluva plowing job once the storm blows over.
The place is lit more than usual for this late. Bets I got a welcome committee.
Uh huh.
Matt leads the pack, "How's mom?"
Wendy, bolstered by Marie, Jubilee and Kitty, chorus, "How's Doctor Sue?"
"Everybody's okay." Singularly focused, I don't break stride and I don't heed Charles' telepathic meddling making for the nearest elevator. The pack hangs right along. Too rough I growl, "Stay here."
The kids with their hangdog faces and the scent of worry smooth out my jagged attitude. Braced against the doors, I give Matt a reassuring shoulder squeeze, "Hang tight a few minutes and we'll talk." Glaring at the rest of 'em, I emphasize, "In private."
Anxiety gives way to frustration and the pack retreats, except Wendy. Wide-eyed, arms locked across her mid-section, she's shaking. Reeking of fear bordering panic, she's sensing my intentions toward the shape shifter.
"Don't," I warn the kid to stay outta my head and keep her shit together.
I don't wait for a reply or a reaction.
xXx
Rolling her eyes, Jubilation Lee huffs, "Oh, here she goes again."
The three of them, Kitty, Jubilee and Marie back away from Wendy like something's about to happen.
"Dude," it's Jubilee again, "better give the chica some space or she'll zap ya."
She does look really weird and she's kinda digging her arms with her fingernails.
"No," Wendy takes a deep breath and drops her arms to her side. "I'm okay. Really. The professor's been helping me. Sorry guys."
Hands on her hips, bitchy expression on her face, Marie reams, "Gawd, you are such a freakin' drama queen, Wendy. It's Matt here who's got every right to freak out."
"Yeah," Jubilee chimes in. "What's your problem?"
"What's your problem?" Wendy snipes back.
All right! Catfight.
Kitty's not saying anything but it's easy to tell which side she's on.
"You are," Jubilee declares. "Cuz of you we can't go anyplace, no shopping, no movies. We can't do shit."
"Well, sooorrreee. You think I like it like this? You haven't got a clue."
Moving away from the pack, Kitty defends, "That's not totally fair, Jubes. We're not on lockdown all because of her."
"B S! That dumb old weapon whatever it is ain't after you or me."
"Um, yeah they might be," Marie adds then says to Wendy, "Okay fine, you say you can feel everybody's emotions or whatever. So, you get ever'body's stressing to the max. Thing is, Logan's always in one snark or another and with what happened to Doctor Sue, he's going through a lot right now. But, it's not like it has anything to do with you so get over it."
"Whoa! Hey you guys, give her a break." And it's got lots to do with her.
All three tease, "Oooohhh, Matthew likes Wendy."
"Well, yeah."
I sigh, "Sheesh," as Jubilee makes kissy lips.
"Not like that. She's my sister. Well, step-sister."
Wow! That shut 'em up. Even Jubilee, who always has something to say about everything. Close your mouth, Marie. You're liable to inhale a fly.
Flashing my best shit-eating grin at them, I wrap my arm around Wendy's shoulder, "C'mon, let's hang out in the kitchen 'til Logan comes back."
xXx
"Ah!" Hank looks up from his computer screen. "How is Susan? The children?"
"Okay," I answer intent to get past Hank and into the isolation cell behind him.
Quick on his feet, he stands foursquare blocking my way, "Logan," he lays a heavy hand on my shoulder.
"Hackles raised, I snarl, "Git yer hands off, bub."
He doesn't retreat, "Telepathic I am not but something tells me you're not on a social call."
What was your first clue? "Get the fuck outta my way."
"I can't do that, my friend."
Sure ya can, friend and I'll show ya how. Palms flat, I shove against his chest, "Last chance, Hank. Move."
"I think not." He sounds civil but lip curled, muscles tense and straining under his starched dress shirt says different.
I rear back, fist balled to deliver a lighting upper cut. A hair faster, Hank blocks and seizes my hand as another furry mitt clamps down at the juncture between my neck and shoulder, "Interrogation will do you no good."
Says who? Ol' Blue ain't backing down. Neither am I and emphasize it with a thunderous I'm gonna chop ya up into chum growl.
Hank ups the pressure, "Will you kindly listen to reason."
Sonuvabitch! Carotid artery crimped, specks of light float across my eyes. My heartbeat booms like a kettle drum inside my skull.
Survival instinct seizing control; I become a high voltage adrenalin conduit. Hank's about to get his hairy blue ass fried. Fisting in his face, claws primed, my knuckles turn metal blue, "Last chance, McCoy."
He doesn't bat an eye, "You're better than this."
Fuck! No I ain't but what the hell am I doing? Last time I checked Hank McCoy ranked as a friend.
I stand down and huff, "This better be good."
Releasing, he raises both hands in a gesture of neutrality. "It's not good but it's the truth."
"Spit it out."
"The shape shifter suffers amnesia."
My laugh is saturated with irony. "Well fuck that, Blue." This time I do pop the claws, "I guaran-damn-tee ya, he'll remember real fast." Underscoring the point, I thrust 'em toward his cell.
Hanks eyes blaze briefly, "You're letting emotion obscure judgment. Do you not think Charles has thoroughly examined the man? For the love of all that is reasonable, Mister Jones' activities have jeopardized the entire school. Charles, all of us are as motivated as you in eliminating any threat."
Goddamn! He's right.
"Graagghh!" Frustration boils over. I drive my fist into his desk, retracting the claws at the last possible moment.
Flopping into a chair, I wince as its sharp edges poke into my shoulder blades. Cold and wet, I can't stifle a shiver. I need to think, regroup. I need rest. My head is pounding, my damaged eye burns and waters, side effect of the explosion.
Fragged beyond good sense, I mutter a string of curses then stare into space. There's a lump in my throat as I say, "Ya know what nine week premature babies look like?"
Hank settles into a chair beside me, "Not since medical school but yes, I recall it is a sobering vision."
Clamming up, he fidgets, reaches to grab my shoulder then backs off, "Logan, I won't insult you with empty platitudes. I do understand the complicated reality of your and Sue's situation."
My voice cracks, "Yeah? Well, what the fuck do I do?"
"Are you asking for my professional opinion?"
"Go t'hell." Embarrassed by my vulnerability, I can't look him in the eye.
He clears his throat, "As I thought my predictable associate. Get a good night's rest. Meet with Charles and me tomorrow and go forward from there."
xXx
"Wendy! Wendy, honey." I dash to her bedside for the third time tonight. "Mommy's here," I soothe and pull her into a hug. In the throes of a nightmare, she fights me, mumbling mostly gibberish. The few words I do understand are all about him.
Damn him. Damn what he's infected her mind with.
"No, mom." Wendy is suddenly lucid, "He didn't do anything. He tried to stop me."
Nevertheless, he didn't and now you've formed a psi-link to him that's growing stronger by the day.
She shakes her head so hard, I'm afraid she'll hurt herself, "You're jealous!"
"Stop that."
"I'm sorry. You're so close. Is that why you hate him? Because you're afraid he'll mess things up between us?"
Sometimes I wonder where my little daughter gets her wisdom. "No…. Oh, I suppose so. But, I don't hate him."
"Yes you do. I can feel it."
"Aarrgghh! Wendy, please, there are long over and done with things between Logan and I that are no one's business but ours. I ask you to respect that."
She nods and I feel the tickle in my head recede.
"Mom?" She wraps her arms around my waist and snuggles. "I love you."
My eyes fill, spilling onto her hair, "Oh, my little dear, your mommy loves you so much." For the first time since this whole mess began, I feel like it just might turn out okay. "Wendy, someday when you're older I'll tell you more about. . ." I trip on the words, ". . . your father and me. Now, shall we try to get some sleep?"
She nestles down and pulls the covers to her chin, "Uh huh."
Almost to the door and about to switch off the light, I hear, "You know, it used to be I had to be close, like in the same room, now it's like if were in the same building. How strong you think it'll get, mom?"
I go to her and smooth down her tousled hair, "You mean Logan?"
She bobs her head.
"I don't know. I just don't know."
Xavier's going to get a piece of my mind. He's supposed to be teaching her to control this thing.
Swirling the covers and pillows into a nest, I join her in the bed, "What is it this time?" I mean her nightmare.
"I'm not sure. It fades so fast. Doctor Sue's car wreck, I think. The hospital, maybe. But then it gets all mixed up. Sometimes he's in the hospital. Sometimes it feels like me. And I don't know what's happening but it hurts him…..just like I saw the other night… you know…."
"Shush! Try not to think about it."
She nods and stares into space.
The wind sounds like a distant train whistle. Tree branches scrape against the eaves. Fffwooosshh. Wind-driven, crystalline snowflakes pelt the window making me shiver and I cinch my robe more snugly around myself.
Wendy breaks the quiet, "Do you mind if I watch TV?"
"If you think it'll help." Glancing at the clock, I yawn and stretch. Not long 'til morning. "What shall we watch? Something goofy, maybe?"
She bounds off the bed for the armoire beside the empty fireplace. Rummaging through a drawer of DVD's she holds up a pair. Ugh! Blazing Saddles and Dumb and Dumber.
"No?" The smirk on her face says she's trying to get my goat.
"Oh wow! How 'bout this?" She offers Dirty Dancing.
"Nice." A little mother-daughter bonding over Patrick Swayze. "Shall I slip down to the kitchen and bring back some ice-cream?"
"With chocolate sauce?"
"Always."
Five minutes later, carrying a pint of ice cream and a pair of spoons, I'm faced with another crisis. Wendy nearly knocks me off my feet bolting out of the bedroom.
"Wendy! What's wrong?" Spoons clatter to the floor as I drop it all trying to snag her arm.
Successful, I spin her around to face me. Tears are streaming down her face.
"He's so sad," she whimpers repeatedly.
"What? Who?"
"My…..d. . . Logan."
She didn't almost say dad! "No, sweetie. You probably just fell asleep and had another nightmare."
"You don't understand. He's, he's crying. Right now. He's so sad and scared over Doctor Sue and the babies, and, and . . me.
Oh my lord! This link she has with him is going to drive us all crazy.
"Wendy, come back inside. It's not your problem."
She jerks herself from my grasp, "No. It is. I caused it all."
"That's nonsense. Where did you get such an idea?"
"If I hadn't run away those creeps wouldn't have found me…" Spouting skewed logic, she doesn't resist me steering her back to our room, ". . . and then Doctor Sue wouldn't have had to leave through the tunnels and wrecked." Out of steam, she weeps into my bosom while my heart aches over the misplaced guilt gnawing at her spirit.
"Sshh. You're wrong." I cup her chin, forcing her to look at me, "Listen to me and," I tap softly on the bridge of her nose, "feel it in here. I think I understand how you believe it is your fault but it isn't. In a strange way, perhaps your running away and being brought here saved you."
Brow furrowed, there is no denying her resemblance to Logan. "How?"
"If they'd been successful, we'd never have found out your father was still alive. I would have had no idea where or who to turn to."
She shudders and pales, responding to my unspoken they would have you and they probably would have killed me.
"The blame is not yours to bear and you must believe that."
"Why?"
Locked onto a thought I can't quite suppress, I know she's asking why the blame is mine. I'm ashamed I don't have the guts to admit my stupid, selfish mistakes even to myself.
Desperate to avoid facing it, I redirect the focus explaining to my daughter, "Wendy, I understand how powerful your connection to Logan is becoming and I know you mean well but you are a child, not his wife or mate or friend. Harsh and unkind as it seems, any interference from you is inappropriate. It wouldn't help or be welcome. Trust me."
xXx
Good nights' rest?
Sure thing.
So, why I am I standing under a scalding shower shivering, sick to my stomach and fighting dual urges to rip everything to shreds or to curl up bawling like a baby?
Nightmares, that's why.
Susie wrecking the car loops again and again. Her blood. Her pain and fear. The impotence, the guilt I feel 'cuz I couldn't protect her is eatin' me up. If that ain't enough, it's the agony, the horror of that fuckin' tank. But, it ain't me in it this time.
The twins are where they need to be. I know this but…..the nursery, nik-u, whatever it's called, haunts me.
Frail, tiny bodies violated with tubes and needles and….
Seeing them like that drives the feral beast inside to the point of fury. It makes me wanna scream, to tear the place apart. I wanna sink my claws, knuckle deep, into the bellies of the bastards responsible for making me into a paranoid, psychotic killing-machine and rip 'em inside out.
Gotta push the demons back where they came from……lock down the animal… get control…….before I do something stupid.
"Grrraaaagghh!" Jagged cracks form in the marble wall around the dent left by my fist but the vivid, sickening images still won't quit. I feel so goddamn useless. Leaning my head against the wall, I give in and go with the flow, my tears swirling with soap and water down the drain.
I yelp as the water turns cold and my emotions flip a one-eighty. Fuck it. Ain't helpless and ain't waiting for any meeting with Charles 'r anybody.
It takes me all of five minutes to dry off, dress and make my way to the underground communications center. Early hour that it is, the system's on auto and I'm alone.
Job one is get a lock on Ruchinsky. Everybody thinks I'm computer illiterate. Think again, kiddies. Takes me a couple minutes to locate and bring up data on Kitty's cell phone trace. Our set up's as good as the FBI though not quite as good as SHEILD's. Guess I'll hafta settle for bulls eyeing Ruchinsky from three meters instead of the wart on his nose.
The New York City grid overlay shows he's holed up at Trump Tower. Tightening parameters shows me approximately what floor and room. Even better is a detailed floor plan of individual rooms on the hotel's website. This is almost too easy.
Comings and goings in corridors are prob'ly monitored but I will bet somebody 'round here knows how to hack those videos. Forget it, takes too long. Maybe I'll just pay me a visit. Sniff the bastard out myself – if he's still there.
Who'm I kidding? Ruchinsky's just a cog on the wheel. Well trained, even my special brand of torture won't open his yap to rat on the real prize. No sir. Gotta think outside the box on this one.
The seed of a plan forms but I gotta do the groundwork. Can I….? It's early but too bad. I buzz the phone in Kitty's room.
Takes four rings before I hear her yawn and mumble, "Mmm. What?"
"Kid, can we keep a lock on Ruchinsky's cell phone?"
"What? Who is this?" I hear rustling, "For crap sake, Logan. It's the middle of the night."
"Nope, it's officially mornin'. C'mon kid, I need t'know."
I hear more rustling and groaning, "Where are you?"
"The comm."
"Fine. Hold onto your britches. I'll be down in five."
"Make it two."
"Five, Logan. I gotta pee." She bangs the phone down loud in my ear.
It takes her more than ten minutes but the mug of steaming coffee she offers puts me in a forgiving mood. That 'n how can anybody stay ticked off at a five foot nothing imp in rumpled pink and green sweats, fuzzy slippers and tangled bed hair?
I let her elbow me out of the way, "Now, what is it you're asking?"
"Can I track Ruchinsky's movements in real-time?"
"When he uses his cell phone? Yeah….we're doing it but there are limits."
"Limits?"
"Like if he goes out of the area, it's going to be harder. And of course, if he doesn't make any calls."
"Has he made any since last night?"
I watch her like a hawk, memorizing what she does to pull up the data: Two calls; one brief, the other clocked in at fifteen minutes.
"They're still coming from the same place?"
She yawns, "Uh huh."
"How do we find out who he called?"
"We can't."
"Shit. Why not?"
"Because all we can do is track when he's using the phone. With the technology we have, there no telling whether it's an outbound or inbound call."
Figures. "Ok kiddo. Thanks. Hey, umm, can ya send the data from here to my cell phone?"
"Maybe. Let me see what you got."
I don't get it half way out of my pocket before she says, "What did you do? Dig that thing out of the junk box?"
"Yeah, well, sorta. My good one's busted."
"Then, the best I can do I call you if something changes."
Like she's gonna monitor twenty-four seven. Guess I'll add buy a new phone to my list of stuff today. I exhale, frustrated remembering the snowstorm. Weather's cleared but the roads are drifted over. Doubtful the place'll be open.
Plan B, then, "Send it to my com unit." This time, I appreciate Summers' anal retentiveness insisting the Team have the latest and greatest in gizmos. "Can I get auto-updates?"
"For sure. Message me when you activate it and I'll set it up like a text message."
Squeezing her shoulder, I say, "You're the best. And keep this between us, eh?"
Grin turns to soft scowl as she nods once.
"Hey, I'm putting ya on the spot, ain't I?"
"No. No, it's okay." Her voice and scent betray the truth.
"Tell ya what. Just show me how to do it."
xXx
"Whoa! Shit." It's a nice save, my coffee from trashing the com console hearing, 'Logan, forgive the intrusion. Please come to my quarters,' inside my head.
"Christ, Chuck. Warn a guy next time."
Kitty glares at me like I'm a retard 'r something.
"Boss man wants me," I explain rubbing the back of my neck. Damn psi stuff gives me a headache.
Kinda busy here, Charles, I think in return.
Understood, however, this is urgent.
On my way. "We done here kid?"
"Sure Logan. I'll test the link. Be ready when you're done with the Professor."
Charles' quarters, eh? Strange. Been here two years and don't think I've set foot in the place twice. Even then, it's been only as far as his lounge.
The doors of his private elevator swish open and I'm definitely surprised to see Scott. Slumped into an over-stuffed couch, sucking coffee, he looks like he either just woke up or pulled an all-nighter. Same with Charles, though even wearing a - what is he wearing? A sweat suit made out of silk? Whatever it is, his posture and scent, propped sideways in his hover chair says rough night. Sleepless nights seem to be a trend around here lately.
"Good morning," his voice matches the fatigue on his face. He points toward a table near the window, "Help yourself."
"What's up?" I ask, shoving a croissant in my mouth and tapping the samovar for a second cup o'joe.
"I'm sure you'll agree yesterday's events marked a serious escalation in the situation with Wendy. As such, I deemed it necessary to question the girls' mother in greater detail."
'Bout time. "And," I slide into a seat next to the buffet and stuff a strip of bacon in my face.
"Doctor Jennings permitted me to probe her mind for anything that might be of value locating Ruchinsky or anyone else involved."
"Thought she could block ya."
"Very few can completely block me, Logan."
"Right," I don't conceal a smirk. "Go on."
I am thoroughly satisfied that she was unaware of Ruchinsky's and Diebel's affiliation with Genesys. When presented with the evidence, she was visibly distressed."
"I thought she was going to faint," Scott adds.
Charles nods, "Our mind-link revealed very little of value though she did confirm and update other key information pertaining to Scott's discovery. Through process of elimination, she has pointed us toward a few possible leads to Ruchinsky and perhaps Diebel."
"Sure and we're just gonna go talk real nice to 'em and bingo, they'll tell us everything we wanna know."
"Not exactly." It's Scott again, "Marla took me on an after-hours tour of Genesys' local offices."
"No shit!"
"Uh huh." He pauses, refilling his coffee cup. Charles declines a gesture for a refill. "I loaded undetectable spyware into their main server, tapped the phone system and linked us to their surveillance and security network."
Good place to start but no guarantees the big fish swim by that particular puddle.
"Agreed," Charles answers my unspoken criticism. "Which leads me to our next possible lead. Of course, you're aware of Mister Jones' condition."
"Yeah." Still think my special brand of persuasion might jog his memory.
"Henry and I spent several hours with him last night. We believe he will recover. However, the timetable and extent of his recovery is uncertain.
"Get to the point."
"In good time, Logan. Considering what we do know, I feel it is prudent losing no time formulating a viable plan."
"Hold up a minute. I seem to remember you saying you didn't want the Team getting down and dirty."
I said I would not condone or personally facilitate needless violence or lethal force. Let's not waste time splitting hairs over semantics."
I ain't the one trying to jaw the bad guys to death.
Guess he hears me. Clearing his throat, Charles beams a sour look my way, "My sources at the FBI and Homeland Security have very little on Jones. Mutant Affairs . . ."
It's a toss-up whether Scott or I snort the loudest over his mentioning Mutant Affairs.
Charles' expression says he concurs, ". . . begrudgingly confirm he is a freelancer with no official ties to any organization. He has not been linked to mercenary activity, nothing violent, surprisingly. He is simply an informant whose primary motivation seems to be financial."
Reading between the lines, the shape shifter's spooked for Mutant Affairs. Probably won't work for the FBI or Homeland Security 'cuz they don't have deep pockets. "Where's this going?"
"To a suggestion that was made and rejected the other day."
"Dammit Charles, get to the fucking point."
"The point is, after the FBI, Homeland Security and Mutant Affairs declined my request for assistance," and to support whatever it is you're covertly planning, he beams into my mind, "I contacted Colonel Fury. He will be joining us in a teleconference shortly."
Don't you mean control? "You're serious?"
"Quite serious." Controlling you is akin to influencing the tide.
You're learning, ol' man.
xXx
Nick Fury's an imposing figure and no less so on Charles' sixty- something inch flat-screen monitor. He greets, "How do, gents," and the smoke ring he blows from his cigar gives me a craving.
Don't even consider it, Charles beams into my mind as I pat my pockets in search.
"Logan, old man, all things considered, you're looking fit. He winks with his uncovered eye, "Nice touch with the eye patch."
"Kiss my ass."
"Ahem! Shall we begin?" Charles prods over Fury's mirth.
Flicking ashes into a heaped ashtray, grin turns to straight faced, "Fire away, Xavier."
Thirty minutes later, we get about as far with Fury and SHIELD as I figured on. Yes, he spills everything he knows about Jones, including confirmation he'd done a few jobs for SHIELD. No, he won't take the piss-ant off our hands. Yes, he's got intel on Weapons Plus but he won't go into it via teleconference. SHIELD won't get directly involved – not right now but, they will provide technical assistance tracking down Diebel and whoever else might be hooked up with a revived Weapons Plus.
SHEILD's price for these morsels? If ya gotta ask ya can't afford it.
We're arranging the set up for SHIELD's courier drop when there's a knock on the door. "Excuse me," it's Kitty. "Is Logan still there?"
I poke my head out, "What's up?"
What's with the cloud of raging hormones and shit-eating grin plastered on her face?
Gushing, "It's Doctor Sue's son, Travis," she shoves my phone at me.
Aw fuck! Now? What's he want? Update on his mom, of course. I glance back at Charles mouthing, 'Gotta take this,' and slip into the hallway.
I say, "Thanks, kid," to Kitty but she doesn't quite get that I mean for her to scram. It takes a thumb over my shoulder and a soundless, 'bye,' to drive the point into her boy-crazed brain. And they say men think with their lower brain?
"Hey, Travis. It's kinda early. Nothing new to report since last night."
"No sir. I didn't think so but . . ."
Sir? Big step up from evil, mutant step-dad.
"I've been granted a four hour emergency leave. The trick is I gotta take it now and I need a ride."
Really? Right now? With the roads snowed over, it'll take a fuckin' four hours just get to him. And then there's SHIELD's courier. I'm supposed to retrieve the drop. Fuck! I bang my fist into the wall.
Scott pokes his head out, "Do you mind?"
My fist turns into a bird.
Logan, tell the boy to be prepared within the hour, buzzes in my head.
I poke my head into Charles' suite, "Say what?"
"Just tell him."
"Logan, you still there?" It's Travis.
"Yeah. Listen, don't worry," and I repeat Charles' telepathic instructions, "The Professor is sending his helicopter. He'll arrange everything."
Land a helicopter at the United States Military Academy? Sure ya are, bub.
"He says be ready in an hour."
Travis', "Okay," oozes with the same skepticism I feel. "Thanks, Logan."
"Yeah." Don't thank me yet, kid. "Later, okay?"
I stalk back into Charles' room loaded for bear, "What the fuck? How the hell am I supposed to pick up Fury's shit and Travis?"
"Unless you suddenly develop the same mutation as Multiple Man, you're not. I'm certain Vic can be persuaded to fetch your son."
Two-faced little turd ain't my son but that's nobody's business. "You'd do that?"
"I am doing it."
And he does. Dunno what strings he pulled, but two hours later both Sue's boys and me are setting down on the hospital's rooftop helipad. SHIELD's courier delivered the tracking gizmos and the only thing on hold is the one-on-one briefing with Fury. That's happening tonight.
xXx