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Part 15
Sitting around and waiting for Logan to come home got boring after about three seconds, and so I started leafing through the stuff spread out on his desk. Well, spread out is the wrong expression of course. Meticulously ordered is more like it.
Anyway, I look through the maps and notes and other junk and almost fall asleep, it’s all so boring. You would think that there’d be some interesting stuff on the desk of a cyber journalist/underground freedom fighter.
But no. There’s nothing. Until I discover two passports under a stack of paper, that is.
I’m in the middle of studying them when I suddenly hear the apartment door being opened. Footsteps are coming down the hall, but I don’t bother to look up, not even when they suddenly halt at the entrance of the room.
“You know, one would think that Eyes Only can afford better fake passports than this. They suck. Even I can see that, and I know shit about this kind of thing.”
When Logan doesn’t say anything, I finally look up. He’s staring at me, or rather gaping, his expression somewhere between surprise, shock and suspicion. I just stare right back.
“You…why would you think that Eyes Only has anything to do with those passports?” Logan asks, trying his best to sound casual.
I just give him a look. Don’t waste your breath buddy, you ain’t foolin’ me. “I know you’re Eyes Only, so don’t even try,” I tell him.
Now he laughs, but there’s a nervous tingle in it, and it sounds more forced than amused. “Well, whatever it was that made you think that, I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. I’d love to take the credit, but I’m not Eyes Only.”
Now I roll my eyes, getting annoyed. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, Logan. Look, I’m not here to blackmail you, I’m here to ask you for a favor. I could use your help.”
Apparently I just spoke the magic words. Logan really is a do-gooder, right down to the bone. “What do you want?” he asks. His look is still guarded, but I’m glad that he’s at least willing to hear me out.
I stand up, deciding that it’s too impolite to remain seated, especially since I’m sitting in his chair, especially since I’m asking him for a favor. “I need help finding someone.” For a moment a queer look passes over Logan’s face, and I’m not sure if he even heard me.
He seems pretty far gone, but then all of a sudden he comes back from wherever he was and asks me, “Well, who are you looking for?”
“A friend of mine. I think she’s still in Seattle, but I don’t know for sure. I don’t really know anything, actually, which is why I could use some help.”
I hate asking Logan for this favor, but – in case I haven’t mentioned it before – I’m getting really desperate here. So far every clue I stumbled over that could have lead me to Ava turned out to be a dead end. I’m exactly where I started when I came here, and that was weeks ago. I need help, so I have no other choice than to swallow my pride and ask for it.
He sits down on the now empty chair and starts up the computer. “What’s her name?”
“Ava.”
“Last name?”
“Um, I don’t know. I’m not sure she even has one.”
Now he gives me a queer look. “She doesn’t have a last name?”
“Don’t ask, okay? I don’t know her very well. Maybe she uses one after all. I don’t know.”
“If you don’t know her very well, why are you looking for her?”
I pause a second, contemplating how to answer that. Then I simply say, “I have my reasons.”
He looks at me for a moment, then turns back to the computer.
“Birthday?” he asks, and I’m grateful that he’s not pushing.
“Um, I don’t know. But she should be about 18. Although, chances are high that she has a fake ID that makes her at least 21.”
“Okay, is there anything else you can tell me? Anything solid?”
I think about it. “She’s short, about 5’1’’, slim, blue eyes, blond hair, probably with colorful streaks, a few piercings and tattoos. She’s from New York, so she has a New Yorker accent. She used to work at a tattoo parlor called ‘Sculled’ and she used to frequent a bar called ‘Crash’. Wait, I have a picture.”
I cram around in my bag, then hand it to him. “You have to imagine the piercings and colorful streaks in her hair.”
“This could be of some help,” he mutters while studying the picture. Then he spins around in his chair and puts it face down on what must be a scanner. A few seconds later, the picture appears on the screen.
“I’ll run a scan of the picture through some nationwide newspaper archives and a few other data banks,” Logan explains to me. “If her picture is stored somewhere, the computer should be able to match it with this one. But it will take some time.”
I nod. “Thanks.” Realizing how inadequate that is, I pick up the passports. “Um, I might be able to do something to these. Give me a few hours.”
He seems surprised, but doesn’t say anything except “Sure.” I leave his apartment, not knowing that I would soon regret ever having given Logan that photo of Ava, or rather Tess.
-------
I go straight home from Logan’s apartment since it looks like it might rain. Big surprise, huh?
Joshua is in the kitchen with Annie, they’re talking and laughing and so I head straight to my room, not wanting to disturb them.
They have a very strange relationship. Basically, they’re friends, but I know that Joshua has a crush on her, and I know that she likes him a lot too.
Their relationship is of course strictly platonic though. At least that’s what I tell myself. No, seriously, it’s platonic. It is. It has go be.
Anyway, once in my room I lock the door, not wanting someone to burst in on me and witness an extraterrestrial lightshow. I get straight to work, trying to fix all the sloppy mistakes and make the passports look real. Seriously, it is beyond me why Eyes Only uses such an amateur for faking documents.
I’m still not anywhere close to actually mastering my powers, but as long as I’m not in a state of emotional havoc (not that that ever happens) I at least have enough control over them so that they won’t backfire and blow something up.
As a rule, I still need a few tries – sometimes a dozen or more – till they actually work the way I want them to, or at all, but as long as I don’t accidentally burn down the house, I’m a happy camper.
After about an hour I’m done. They look pretty damn good if I may say so myself. Almost perfect.
And so I get up, grab my bag and go straight back to Logan’s. I don’t bother getting an umbrella, I’ve taken a liking to walking in the rain, especially since I discovered that now matter how wet and cold I get, I never end up having a cold. I swear I haven’t sneezed once since I left Roswell.
Guess that’s another part of the wonderful legacy Max left me with. And am I trying to hide the scorn in my voice? Nope, not a chance.
The only reason why I’m in such a hurry to get to Logan’s again is of course that I want to know if he’s found anything yet. I know it’s stupid to get my hopes up, it’s only been a few hours after all, but I can’t help it. For the first time I actually have the feeling that I’m on the right track, that this might actually lead to something.
When I reach his apartment I don’t bother with the doorbell, I just walk right in. These powers do come in handy every once in a while, and in case you haven’t noticed, I sort of threw polite out the window when I came to Seattle.
I’m surprised, and not exactly pleased, to find that he isn’t alone. Alec and M are there too, and let me tell you, you could cut the tension in this room with a knife.
Despite looking surprised, Alec smirks at me, M scowls, and I simply ignore them both.
“Here,” I say handing Logan the passports.
He thumbs through them, and I can tell that he’s seriously impressed. “Wow, these are amazing. How’d you do that?”
I shrug, having absolutely no intention of answering that question. Then I hesitate, my eyes darting towards Alec and M. I don’t want to ask him if he’s come up with anything yet in front of them, but I really want to know. Not being able to keep my curiosity at bay, I give in and ask after all, trying to sound as casual as possible. “So, did you find anything yet?”
“Find what?” M asks, but I ignore her.
Logan hesitates for a split second. Then he shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. Not yet.”
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