Episode 3.14 - Hugger Mugger 5 страница

"Just thought I'd come back and check on my kid. Heard all the transgenics got out of Terminal City."

 

Alec couldn't hide his shocked look. "You were Gem's breeding partner at Manticore?"

 

"Yeah, that's me, the one and only. And I want to see my kid. Can you tell me where she is?"

 

"Sorry, pal," Alec told him. "Can't do that. I don't want Gem kicking my ass for tellin' you. You didn't see her in labor...she's got a mean right hook."

 

"Fine," Cody said, clearly frustrated. "I'll keep tracking her down. I got this far, didn't I?" Cody turned and stomped out, slamming the door behind him. The force rattled the walls of the small office, sending the dartboard crashing to the floor.

 

"Dammit," Alec said to the empty room. "So much for 60 percent fun."

 

He turned and saw Gem coming back into the office from the outer room.

 

"What was all that noise?" she asked.

 

Alec paused, unsure whether to tell her about Cody. "Ah," he said, "Teeny just stormed out when I refused her offer of sex."

 

Gem's eyes widened, and she started laughing. "On that note, I'm taking Elfie home so Joshua can look after her. I'll be back in half an hour."

 

Alec grinned. "Catch ya later."

 

Gem strapped Elfie into her stroller and headed out the back door. Reaching the threshold, she turned back to Alec.

 

"Sublime P.I.," she said.

 

Alec cocked his head. "You know, that could work."

 

Fogle Towers

 

Max, wearing her Jam Pony work clothes and backpack, let herself in and wove around the translucent walls of the penthouse. She came to a dead stop when she entered the computer room and saw Logan sitting at the computer in his desk chair. He had obviously just come from the shower. His hair was wet, and the excess water dripped onto his glasses while he cleaned them; his T-shirt was a little damp as well. Max was entranced by the sight.

 

Feeling her stare, Logan smiled and greeted her without looking up. "Hey. Glad you could stop by."

 

"Yeah. Me too," she murmured as one side of her mouth curved into a smile. "Lookin' good."

 

He raised his head at that. Blinking, he put on his glasses and looked at her a second time. "You got your hair cut."

 

"Yeah, well..." she responded jauntily, seeming to wake from her daze, "I figured it wouldn't hurt to lose a few inches and get Original Cindy off my back. She said now that I'm a free woman, I should be doing somethin' with it besides lettin' it just hang there." She rolled her eyes. "Her words."

 

"Well, it looks good," Logan said softly, reaching up to play with the ends of Max's hair where it grazed her shoulders. His fingers lightly traced the gentle, soft waves.

 

Max smiled, enjoying his touch. She rested her own hand on top of his. "I came straight from Terminal City. Not too many people stuck around."

 

"Everybody's ready for their own lives," Logan commented, turning to his computer and pulling up some files.

 

"Apparently not everybody. Would you believe Mole and the gang were doing maneuvers on the basketball court?"

 

"Didn't know Mole played basketball," Logan said, distracted. He began to focus on the task in front of him.

 

"This wasn't dribblin' and passin'. These were military maneuvers," Max snorted. She stuck her hands in her back pockets and leaned against the desk with one hip. "Heard him talkin' about hooking up with Lydecker and going to work for him. Can you believe it? He and the others don't even realize they got a chance to live their own lives. It's like we spent seven months fighting for nothing."

 

She paused to ponder for a moment. "One of these days I'm going to—"

 

"Look at this," Logan said at the same time, having taken her pause to mean she was done.

 

Startled, they looked at each other for a minute and smiled.

 

Logan decided to speak first, nodding his head at the computer screen. "List of charities in the area that're supposed to be receiving food shipments. Most of them haven't been getting much of anything for months now." He sighed. "Trucks are being diverted at sector checkpoints. Somebody's sending the cargo to the black market instead, and the sector police have been looking the other way."

 

"Bastards as usual," Max tossed off flippantly.

 

"I've tracked most of the divergent activity to a few main checkpoints. I'm checking on some leads, and then I'll need to get proof."

 

"I take it that's where me and my skills come in?" Max said, leaning down to peer more closely at the map on Logan's computer screen. Her hands were still in her back pockets, and the way she leaned over gave Logan a clear view of her rear end when he turned his head.

 

"Nobody else compares," he confirmed appreciatively. Max smiled, standing up. Then she noticed where his eyes had been and grinned even more widely.

 

"Thanks for the affirmation," she said with a twinkle in her eye. She wandered out to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. "Feel like making breakfast? This female is starving."

 

"Uh...I can't. I'm pretty involved in this investigation and I want to keep my momentum going," Logan covered, discreetly rubbing a hand on his knee while Max was out of viewing range. Unable to think of a decent excuse to wear the exoskeleton in her presence, he'd been forced to leave it off.

 

"Your loss. I was going to entertain you with the uncut version of Original Cindy's standup routine," Max said, reaching to the back of a lower shelf.

 

"You can come over tonight for dinner, if you want." Logan pushed on the desk to swivel the chair so that he faced the kitchen. Max pulled out a can of soda and headed back to the computer room. "We need to talk then, anyway."

 

"Tonight's no good," she said, shaking her head good-naturedly and slurping on the can. "How ‘bout now? I got a few minutes before I need to be at work."

 

"What's wrong with tonight?" he asked, ignoring her suggestion.

 

"I'm workin' late. What's wrong with now?"

 

"I'm waiting for a phone call. As soon as I hear from this source, I can get moving on this Eyes Only thing."

 

"Fine," Max said, frustrated. "I'll just leave and get out of your way, then."

 

Logan sighed. "You're not in the way. I just can't have a long discussion now."

 

"So bring your cell and walk me down to my bike. Won't take long."

 

"Can't do that either, Max."

 

"You can't even come downstairs with me for two seconds? Why the hell not?"

 

"I can't walk you downstairs because I can't walk!" Logan burst out, slamming a hand down on the edge of the desk in frustration. "That a good enough reason?"

 

He ran a hand through his hair. For her part, Max stood silently, surprised that he'd finally said it and not quite sure how to respond. She softly set the can down on the desk.

 

Logan sighed and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. He spoke more quietly. "Damn it, that's not how I wanted to tell you."

 

"But you were gonna tell me, right?" Max asked gently, walking over to him and sitting on top of the desk. She reached for his hand and squeezed it.

 

"Yeah. Tonight."

 

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Logan, elbows on spread knees, stroked Max's fingers with his thumb. Max crossed her ankles and swung her feet back and forth.

 

"How long's this been goin' on?" she finally asked, curious.

 

He raised his eyebrows briefly and tipped his head to the side. "Found out a couple months ago. Kept tripping over my own feet."

 

"And you're just now deciding I had a right to know."

 

Max's comment made Logan look up into her eyes. He saw some of the anger he was expecting, but he also saw hurt. "I'm sorry, Max," he said. "You didn't need this on your plate during the siege."

 

"So you thought it was better to lie to me than to let me decide," she said, her eyes narrowing. "The man who says he loves me wouldn't tell me what he was going through. Says a lot about his trust in me, doesn't it?"

 

"It's not a question of trust, Max."

 

"Yeah? I think it is. Last time, you blew me off to sneak out to see Vertes, and for all I know, you never would have told me at all if I hadn't caught you. Seems to me like nothing's changed."

 

"A lot's changed since then." Logan was now growing indignant as well. "And you know it."

 

"Yeah, well, I'm not so sure," Max retorted. "I'm not even sure you have any kind of faith in me at all. Do you even realize how much this hurts?"

 

Logan was silenced by the uncharacteristic admission. Tears brimmed in Max's eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

 

Her grip on his hand suddenly tightened. Taking that as a sign of anger, Logan grew more resolute. "I was making my own decision, too, you know. I had a chance to avoid this. But it would have meant leaving you in Terminal City, for God knows how long, and I wasn't about to – Max, I know you're upset, but is crushing my hand really necessary?" Her grip had been increasing the whole time he was talking.

 

Letting go of his hand, Max slid off the desk, wavering a little as she stood up. "I gotta blaze." Her voice was as unsteady as her balance. She started to raise a hand to her stomach, but she caught herself and lowered it.

 

"Max? What's wrong?" Logan's brow furrowed as he noticed her turning pale.

 

She turned away from him and swallowed hard. It was a few seconds before she could respond. "What you don't get is that you did leave me, by lying and pulling away. All this time I thought the problem was me, but it turns out you didn't trust me enough to tell me what was going on. That's what's wrong. Give me a call when you can show me some respect."

 

Then Max walked out of the apartment, leaving Logan to stare after her.

 

When the elevator arrived, she got in and frantically punched the buttons. She waited until she arrived in the lobby, then grabbed a nearby wastebasket and started throwing up.

 

Detective Agency

 

Gem called out as she entered the office. "Alec, I brought the other supplies that you left—" She broke off in surprise when she saw a young man standing at the desk next to Alec. Her smile faded, and her face lost all sign of emotion.

 

"He came here looking for you," Alec explained. "I kicked him out, but—"

 

"I knew you'd eventually return here," Cody interrupted him, looking at Gem.

 

"What do you want?" Gem asked coolly, setting the bag of supplies on her desk.

 

Cody ignored her question. "How've you been doing, 238?" He followed her to the desk, looking around at the walls of the agency.

 

Gem glanced up at him briefly, as if making a decision. "Name's Gem now. Use it." Then she dropped her head again, shuffling some papers and stapling a few.

 

"Gem, huh? What's the baby's name, Pearl?"

 

She looked up suddenly to give him a withering look.

 

"Bad joke," he admitted. "Sorry."

 

"You came here for something?" she asked briskly. "Other than insulting me and my daughter?"

 

His brow knitted in confusion. "Insulting? Who's insulting? What'd I say?"

 

"Try reading a book sometime," she answered without looking at him. "Friend of mine has quite a library. I'm sure he wouldn't mind lending out his Hawthorne."

 

Cody stood there for a moment, trying to decide what to say. The reference was clearly lost on him. Gem said nothing as she moved about the room. Alec, who had been watching this exchange in silence, broke in. "Look, Gem, I don't know what that was all about, but—"

 

"Don't worry about it. It just reminded me of something," Gem told him. Then she turned back to Cody briefly. "Just don't call her Pearl."

 

"I won't," he promised. "Look, I came here to see you. I've been wondering how you've been."

 

"It took you a year and a half to care?" she said. "You couldn't have been too curious. Not like there was any reason for you to remember it anyway."

 

"That's not true," he said. "We had a daughter. I want to see her."

 

"We had a daughter?" Gem's tone became incredulous as she turned to face him."That's a load of bull. You had a Manticore-endorsed lay. I had a daughter. There's a distinct difference."

 

"Look, I didn't know." He raised his hands in defense. "Manticore burned down right afterwards and I spent the next year and a half undercover. How was I supposed to know you gave birth?"

 

Gem stood there for a minute, considering. Then she seemed to relent.

 

"Her name's Elefteria. You really came to see her?" He nodded. "Fine. I'll take you by the house tomorrow. But don't plan on staying there. Can't say I like being reminded of that week at Manticore."

 

"Don't worry, I won't be staying long anyway. I'm hooking up with Lydecker."

 

"You're kidding, right?" Alec asked. "You want to work for him? I mean, I never spent a lot of time with the guy, but I've heard horror stories that'll curl your hair."

 

"You still want to be a soldier?" Gem asked after a moment. "After everything they made us do?"

 

Cody shrugged. "It's a living."

 

A Street in Sector 2 – late that afternoon

 

Logan walked with a folded newspaper under his arm through an especially run-down part of town. Litter lined the streets. Stray newspapers rustled in the wind; now and then a homeless person would grab one and add it to the barrel fire he was using to keep warm. A woman caught Logan's eye and smiled as he passed by. He nodded and smiled back.

 

He entered a cafe with a sign in the window that announced "WE HAVE SUGAR" and purchased a cup of coffee. The voices of the patrons on the first floor echoed in the narrow stairway as Logan ascended to the upstairs seating area. He shivered briefly, realizing the second-floor radiator must be broken, and glanced around.

 

At a table in the rear corner sat a man with a dark goatee. He looked to be in his forties, and he was obviously very nervous. Logan ambled over to the table and sat down, placing his coffee and newspaper on it.

 

"Logan Cale," he said, offering his hand. "Eyes Only sent me," he added in a quieter voice.

 

As soon as Logan mentioned Eyes Only, the man's eyes widened and he looked around in fear. "Shhh! Do you have to say..." He trailed off, seeing that none of the other patrons had heard Logan's words. Finally the man calmed down, though still nervous, and shook Logan's hand. "Just call me Bob."

 

"You said you had some information?" Logan inquired, flapping a tiny packet back and forth in his right hand to settle the sugar inside. He opened the packet and poured the sugar into his coffee.

 

"Yeah. Listen, you can not tell anybody you saw me—"

 

"It's okay. I've done this hundreds of times. Once I pass it on to Eyes Only, my lips are sealed."

 

"All right." Bob nervously sipped his own coffee, holding the mug in both hands. He set it down on the table and leaned over it to talk to Logan, as if shielding his words from the ears of the other patrons. "I know who's running the operation to send charity food to the black market."

 

Logan listened patiently, leaning forward as well to indicate his concern. He wrapped his hands around his own mug, gleaning warmth from it.

 

"The sector cops are acting on orders from John Milham. He's a sector-police captain, in charge of the west end of the city."

 

"I've heard of him," Logan said, nodding. "How do you know this?"

 

The other man seemed surprised. "I'm a sector cop myself, mostly based in sector 8. Didn't Eyes Only tell you?"

 

"Boss keeps information to a minimum. It keeps the informant net safe."

 

"Yeah, well, good. 'Cause I shouldn't even be talking about this. If they found out, I'd lose my job, and maybe my head. But I couldn't let this keep going on. People are starving."

 

Logan nodded again. "I appreciate your coming forward."

 

"Milham's reinforcing the orders with cash," Bob continued. "The sector cops don't mind going along with the plan 'cause it lines their pockets."

 

"Same old story," Logan commented. "Money talks, so people don't."

 

"He offered me a cut, too. I took it," Bob said, dropping his head guiltily. "But I had to. He would've been onto me otherwise." He raised his head, looking determined. "I gave it to one of the charities that got stiffed. Anonymously."

 

"They'd thank you if they knew."

 

Bob fell silent, swirling his coffee to distribute the grounds. He finished it off with one swig.

 

"Listen," Logan said, putting his elbows on the table and leaning farther forward. "Do you know where he's sending the food?"

 

"To a warehouse outside of town. After that, I don't know where it goes or who gets it there."

 

"Can you tell me where the warehouse is?"

 

"Yeah, it's—" Bob stopped in mid-sentence, hearing voices from downstairs. His eyes widened in panic.

 

Logan heard a man and a woman loudly joking to each other, apparently while they waited in line. The woman suggested to the man that they sit upstairs when they got their coffee. The voices seemed innocuous enough to Logan. He turned to his informant with questioning eyes, as if to ask what the problem was.

 

"I work with them," Bob whispered, the color draining from his face. "I told them and my sergeant that I was going out of town this week. They can't see me here!"

 

"Okay. Calm down. We'll figure something out."

 

Logan looked around for a means of escape. His eyes landed on the exit door.

 

"There's a patio out back. Follow me," Logan said quietly, standing up. "Quickly."

 

He and Bob slipped out a door and stepped onto the patio. Built to accommodate private parties, it held a long table and several chairs. The space between the cafe and the building behind it narrowed to about five feet at that point. Logan looked down and saw a narrow alleyway below; it appeared to be deserted.

 

"Okay, we need to get you across," he told the other man.

 

"I can't jump that far!" Bob exclaimed, panic in his eyes.

 

"You won't have to. Let's get this table turned over."

 

As quickly and as quietly as they could, they moved the chairs away from the table and flipped it over. Logan and Bob set the flat edge on the low wall edging the roof and pushed the table across the space between the buildings. They kept the far end of the heavy table from dropping below roof level by holding onto the table legs at the near end. Soon the table rested on the other roof's low wall, forming a footbridge across the alley.

 

"Go," Logan whispered urgently. "Now."

 

The other man stepped onto the table and hurried across. As soon as Bob stepped off the table, Logan yanked on the table legs at his end and pulled the table back onto the roof of the cafe.

 

"Use the fire escape to get down," he instructed his informant, while righting the table and replacing the chairs.

 

Bob paused, relieved. "Thanks."

 

"Thank you. Eyes Only and the people who need that food will be grateful for your help. Now go."

 

Moments later, the informant's fellow sector cops climbed the stairs and reached the second story. They sat down at a table, chatting over their coffee. Neither one gave so much as a glance to the man with glasses reading a newspaper in the corner.

 

ACT II

 

Lydecker's HQ – Tuesday, December 7, 2021, early morning

 

About an hour before sunrise, Colonel Lydecker emerged from the Command Post tent. He stood under the awning, next to a heavy table. The early morning air was clean and crisp; Lydecker could see his breath. He blew on his hands to warm them, and zipped up his M-65 field jacket. He pressed a button on the side of his chronograph wristwatch, tilting the dial up to his face. "Don't do that," said a voice, and Zack emerged from the shadows. "You'll illuminate your face."

 

Zack was dressed in woodland camouflage, trousers and a T-shirt. He'd left his parka back in his tent. Despite the cold, he didn't need it, and he wasn't trying to pass for human. In camp, in the wilderness, there was no one to impress.

 

When Zack didn't continue, Lydecker asked, "Is there something I should know?"

 

"Who knows what you should or shouldn't know?" Zack shot back.

 

Lydecker squinted in the darkness. While the X5's military bearing was ingrained, his attitude – although not hostile enough to be a direct challenge to the colonel's authority – was something short of respectful. "What happened to our agreement?" he asked Zack.

 

"What agreement?" said Zack, glancing over his shoulder. He was scanning the tree line with his enhanced night vision. He turned his attention back to Lydecker. "The one where you say ‘Jump,' and I say, ‘How High?'"

 

"Yes," said Lydecker, with a precise nod. "That agreement."

 

"I'm doing exactly what I said I would. I'm drilling your commandos."

 

"You're being insubordinate," Lydecker said.

 

"Court-martial me," said Zack. "Or maybe you could poke me with a cattle prod."

 

Lydecker sighed, and rubbed the rough stubble on his chin. "I'm putting together a battalion," he began.

 

"You're putting together your own private army," Zack corrected.

 

"I'm offering structure to soldiers who desperately need it," said Lydecker. "The others...they look at you—"

 

"What do you want from me?" Zack snapped.

 

"Son," Lydecker said, sighing, "For a long time, you were a thorn in my side—"

 

"Don't call me 'son,'" Zack interrupted, sounding dangerous.

 

Lydecker blew out a vaporous breath. "That wasn't what I meant to say," he said carefully. "I wanted to tell you that you were always one of the best. While you were unquestionably one of Manticore's biggest failures, you were also one of its greatest successes."

 

Zack crossed his arms over his chest, looking bored. "I'm not here for a pep talk," he said. "Or to reminisce about old times. In fact, your personal safety is less at risk if you don't bring up old times at all."

 

"Duly noted," Lydecker said. "Let's talk about new times. Let's talk about what's going on right now in this country, and what's coming."

 

"I'm listening," Zack said.

 

Outside Jam Pony

 

Locking up her bike, Max became aware of the woman before she actually approached. Her scent wafted Max's way on a light current of air. Max tilted back her head, her nostrils flaring. She smelled perfume – very expensive perfume. A moment later, a timid but cultured voice said, "Excuse me?"

 

"Yeah?" Max looked up and saw a trim, elegant woman. She had reddish-blonde hair pulled back into a sleek chignon. She was wearing a long camel coat, over a green silk dress. The woman opened and closed her mouth. Max raised an eyebrow. "What can I do for you?"

 

Still, the woman hesitated. She pulled her coat closed, gripping the collar with a manicured hand. When she finally spoke, the words came out in a rush. "Is this Jam Pony X-press?"

 

"That's what the sign says," Max replied. She picked her backpack up off the ground, and held it by the strap. "You got a package?" When the woman didn't respond, Max tried again. "You picking up a package?"

 

"Is this where all the transgenics are?" The woman seemed nervous.

 

Max was immediately suspicious. "Nope," she said, slinging the backpack over her shoulder. "No transgenics here. Not a one."

 

The woman bit her lip, peering at Max's face. "I know you." Her voice was breathy. "You're one of them!"

 

"What do you want, lady?" Max said impatiently. "I gotta get to work."

 

"I'm looking for some of your brethren," the woman said stiffly.

 

"Some of my brethren?" Max said, uneasily shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

 

"Yes," said the woman. "Some of your – you know – male brethren."

 

"My male brethren," Max repeated, her forehead wrinkling. "What for?"

 

"That would be between me and them." The woman flushed. "Or me and him...when I find him."

 

"Him, who?" said Max.

 

"Whichever one I find," the woman said vaguely. "Whoever is the most likely candidate."

 

"Candidate for what?" Max asked.

 

"Oh," said the woman, sounding embarrassed. "Nothing. So, are there any male transgenics working here?"

 

"I already told you, no," Max said. "What do you want?"

 

"It's complicated," said the woman.

 

"All right," Max said, rolling her eyes. "Nice talking to you." She went inside the building.

 

Jam Pony

 

Jam Pony was loud and busy. The television was blaring, as were two radios tuned to different stations. Normal was in the cage, sorting parcels and answering the phone. Messengers picked up and dropped off packages. Max met Original Cindy by the counter. Original Cindy made a gesture, and Max turned in a circle so her friend could see her new 'do. "Much better," Original Cindy said approvingly.