... only the guy heard or sensed her now, and his flat-featured face lifted to scowl at her.
He grunted, and it might have turned into a word, but that was all the sound he got out before Max took two swift steps and leapt as he brought up the gun, way too late. Her foot connected with his throat and he toppled over, crashing to the floor, the Uzi bouncing away — fortunately not firing, though making enough of a clatter to attract Logan’s other “guests”...
Furies appeared from everywhere — they’d spread out through the apartment — and she took a tally, even as she started dispatching the gang members.
Soon she realized that two full packs filled Logan’s digs! Twenty-to-one odds were a hell of a handful for even someone as skilled as Max...
She was a dervish, though, kicking this one, sweeping the feet out from that one, punching a third to the floor. The odds didn’t matter — fighting through these invaders and locating Logan were her only goals now. It didn’t matter that he’d lied about Seth, or that they’d had a spat, nothing mattered but getting to him... and his being alive.
She kicked one Fury in the groin, and he went down howling as two more converged on her, from behind; she leaned back, grabbed each of them by the back of the skull and slammed them together face first. They dropped in a bloody, silent heap, their faces smears of red that seemed if anything an improvement.
That was when she saw Logan, five Furies on him like army ants, dragging him from the bedroom toward the front door.
What the hell?
What did a street gang have to gain by kidnapping Logan?
She jumped, kicking to either side, each foot connecting with the head of a Fury, sending both bangers to a dark place. As they fell, she landed nimbly, then turned toward the five Furies who had hauled the struggling Logan to the door.
Logan spotted her and yelled her name — and in the sound of his voice there were myriad emotions, from fear to regret, and love was in there, too.
But she could do nothing — there were too many of the bastards — and that she was still kicking ass when the five dragged Logan out into the bright sunshine of the frigid morning provided no damn solace at all.
Time was key — seconds could mean life or death. She punched the nearest one and wrenched the weapon from his hands, a small submachine gun. She hated guns and had vowed years ago that she would never use one, but she needed to save Logan and — filled with revulsion as she was — this seemed the only way to even the odds.
She jerked back the bolt on the weapon, but before she could fire, a Buddha bunch of arms closed over and around her and she found herself wrestling with half a dozen Furies for control of the weapon. They weren’t stronger than her, not hardly; but there were just so goddamn many of them!
Finally, she released the Uzi and returned to the hand-to-hand combat at which she excelled. Besides, the Furies were loyal, a family however dysfunctional, and if she stayed in close, they wouldn’t dare fire automatic weapons into a crowd of their cronies.
She hadn’t, however, seen the Tazer.
The two prongs dug into her back, and she knew instantly what had happened, even before the violent shaking started and the thought of reaching Logan was driven from her mind by the searing pain that consumed every cell of her being as she did a macabre marionette’s dance at the end of the two wires feeding voltage into her back.
She tried to fall but couldn’t, the electricity holding her up until all the Furies had exited the building, the one controlling the Tazer leaving last. She vibrated for a second more, then dropped over, unconscious.
Max awoke with a violent start, the smell of ammonia filling her nostrils. “Wha... what... Logan! They got Logan!”
A hand rested on her shoulder, and she turned, drawing reflexively back to punch, pulling it as she looked up into the reptilian face of Mole.
“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s me.”
“They got him! They got Logan!”
“Easy — settle,” Mole said.
She looked around now to see that Alec, Joshua, and a couple of X3s she didn’t recognize were combing the apartment. The Furies had cleaned up their wounded and taken them along, too. She took some small satisfaction knowing that she had inflicted a good deal of damage on them; grabbing Logan hadn’t come free for the sons of bitches.
Mole helped her into a kitchen chair. “How’d you know to come?” she asked, her body a mass of pains, her head pounding to an unseen but insistent drumbeat.
“Luke,” he said, referring to Dix’s lightbulb-headed best buddy. “He was going out for supplies when he saw a bunch of bangers pilin’ into a truck and taking off. He figured that couldn’t be good, called us.”
“The Furies,” she said. “They took Logan.”
Alec walked in holding a piece of black T-shirt. “Looks like their ‘uniform.’ What the hell would those idiots want with Logan?”
They all took turns looking at each other and shrugging.
“Logan’s rich, isn’t he?” Mole asked. “Maybe it’s a snatch job. Anybody see a ransom note?”
No one had.
“They’re organized,” Alec said, sitting on the table near Max, “but I didn’t think they were organized enough to manage something like this.”
“Where’s their HQ, anyway?” Mole asked. “Let’s just go snatch him back.”
Max shook her head. “I doubt that even the Furies are stupid enough to keep him at their crib. If they saw us coming, they might just kill him and run.”
Mole frowned. “Well, what the hell do you suggest, then?”
“Don’t know yet,” Max said, still groggy.
Alec said, “Well, I do.”
Max looked up at him.
“Leave it to me,” he said.
Any idea was better than what she had — nothing — but the typical smugness in Alec’s tone made Max think “leaving it to him” wasn’t a wise strategy.
During the siege, trying to help, Alec and Joshua had nearly gotten themselves killed, been captured by Ames White, and almost singlehandedly destroyed any opportunity the transgenics had for a negotiated peace with the ordinaries. That was the most recent example of “leaving it to Alec”...
On the other hand, Alec seemed to have changed in recent months, and for the better. The new Alec had actually become a valuable member of the community, even of her inner council. He was considered by many the likeliest choice to run for the city council seat that would become Terminal City’s official voice in Seattle politics.
That was the “new” Alec. But the gleam in Alec’s eye suggested the old Alec was back in town, and that was almost as troubling as anything the Furies might manage.
“We won’t be leaving this to you, Alec,” she said.
“No?”
“No, but I’m ready to hear you out.”
“You won’t regret it,” Alec said, flashing that smile, and he hopped off the table and pulled up the chair next to her, and she heard what he had in mind and, hardly believing it herself, found herself going along with him.
Chapter five
Smart Alec
Alec’s plan had merit.
Just the same, Max — finally shaking off the shock of Logan’s abduction, not to mention the aftereffects of the Tazer — had a plan of her own in mind.