Supercop: 8/9(?)
by Nan Smith
Previously:
"Hmm." Henderson was silent, assimilating this information. "How long will mine last? Do you have any idea?"
"I don't know. I suppose we could ask Bernard Klein. He's the definitive expert on Kryptonian super powers, at least so far. He might be able to tell you." Superman shrugged. "For all I know, they could be permanent. Lois mentioned that she could feel the effects of the sunlight energizing her again after we finished in Kyoto, so you've apparently been given the ability to absorb solar energy the way I do. Whether it will last is another question."
Henderson absorbed that in silence for several minutes. "In that case, there's a lot I'm going to need to learn," he said finally.
"Not as much as you might think," Superman said. "The control becomes ingrained in a very short time. You won't hurt your wife, if that's what you're afraid of."
"I was."
"It won't happen," Superman said, confidently. "Most of what I can teach you is some of the finer points of how to deal with being invulnerable." He came to a halt in mid air. The blue swells of the Atlantic Ocean rolled gently a hundred feet beneath them, and far away on the horizon, Henderson could see the outline of a passenger liner.
Superman followed his gaze. "That would be the 'Incan Princess' headed for Miami and points south," he said. "Ready for your first lesson?"
Henderson peeled off the ski mask and tucked it into his belt. "More than ready."
"It's easier than you might think," Superman informed him. "You're going to bounce your heat vision off the mirror and vaporize your beard. You want to be careful not to burn yourself ..."
**********
And now, Part 8:
Flying toward home, William Henderson found himself grinning under his black mask.
The training session had been instructive in more ways than one. In two hours, he had come to know Superman better than he had in the entire previous five years and he had discovered that the super-hero was a good deal different than the stiff, formal face he presented to the public. In fact, he was indeed Clark Kent: very intelligent, friendly, frequently humorous, and in general an extremely pleasant person with which to interact. In spite of the semi-adversarial relationship that existed between the members of the police and the press, Henderson was aware that like his wife, Lois, Clark Kent was one of the best friends a good cop could have on his side, and wished now that he had gotten to know the man better, sooner. He made a promise to himself that he would remedy that in the near future, whether or not he kept his super-powers.
And, as a result of his help, Henderson now felt considerably more sure of his new abilities. The Man of Steel had run him through the entire repertoire, including some of which he had been unaware, and made certain he could control each one. When they had finished, Superman had given him a small salute of respect. "You know; if someone had to get my powers, I'm glad it was you, Bill. I didn't really have that much to teach you. You figured out most of the important stuff on your own. Don't tell her I told you, but Lois meant what she said. You did a good job while we were gone, and she doesn't give anyone undeserved pats on the back."
That made him feel surprisingly good. Mad Dog Lane didn't hand out respect lightly. He'd have to return the compliment -- indirectly, of course.
He landed quietly in the back yard of their little house and entered via the kitchen door. Sue was seated on the couch when he walked into the living room, watching the news report of the three super-heroes helping at the accident. She started to get to her feet, but he crossed the room to her and sank down beside her on the couch. "Hi honey; how was your day?"
"Pretty good." She ran a finger over his chin. "I see you had a chance to talk to Superman."
"Yep." He kissed her. "See, no stubble."
"I noticed. So, what's the secret? Super-strong razor blades?"
"Nope. Heat vision."
Sue raised her eyebrows. "That must be something to see. You're going to have to show me how it's done, tomorrow morning. So, did Superman tell you how it happened?"
"Not exactly," Henderson said. "I get the feeling that he doesn't want anyone to know."
"I guess I can understand that," Sue remarked. "Okay; I won't ask what 'not exactly' means. If it got out that Superman's powers could be transferred to ordinary people, everybody would think they deserved super powers, too. He'd probably never have a moment's peace. Did he say how long he thought they would last?"
Henderson shook his head. "For all he knows, they could be permanent."
"Permanent?" Sue's eyes widened. "You mean like for the rest of your life?"
"Maybe. He knows a scientist that he's going to talk to about it. He said he'll let me know."
"Are you going to have to sleep on the couch again?" she asked, a little plaintively.
"No." Henderson rested a hand on her rounded tummy and then put his arm around her. He intended to go back to sleeping in his bed again, but he would probably sleep lightly for some time until he was sure. No point in upsetting Sue with that, though.
"Good." She leaned against him. "I've been watching you in action," she said.
"I noticed. What do you think?"
"You look wonderful," she said. "Very heroic. But I've always known you were a hero, anyway." She sat up suddenly. "I was thinking, though; if you're going to be doing this for very long, you might need something more super-heroish than black jeans and a black shirt."
"I am *not* wearing spandex," he informed her, firmly. "A cape is out, too."
Sue giggled. "I agree. It wouldn't suit you. A jumpsuit, maybe. I'm thinking of something in black, close fitting, but not skin-tight. It should cut down on wind resistance when you fly, too. What do you think?"
"I take it," he said, "that you have a substitute for a ski mask to go with this hypothetical costume?"
"A silk hood that comes down over your eyes," she said. "It will look a lot more suave, and leave your mouth and nose free. I was thinking of a name, too. How about the 'Black Knight'?"
He snorted. "No cornier than anything I've come up with. But wasn't the Black Knight a bad guy?"
"You shouldn't be bound by tradition," she informed him. "From now on, the Black Knight will be a good guy. I bought a pattern at the Sewing Mart today and I think that -- with a few alterations -- it should be exactly what you need." She picked up a paper bag sitting by her feet and withdrew a packet with a picture on the front. "Visualize yourself in this, in black, of course, with a black hood, and no pockets ... what do you think?"
Henderson studied the picture critically. She had a point.
"Not bad," he said, finally. "But right now, I feel like relaxing and watching TV with my beautiful wife. The costume can wait."
**********
"So," Clark said, "he's all set. I ran him through everything and I'm sure he can handle it all." He signaled the elevator to take them to the newsroom.
"I always figured he could," Lois said. "Don't ever tell him I said so, but Henderson's as smart as they come. I had no idea he was married, though. I guess it shows you can know somebody for years and still not know them very well."
"Her name's Sue," Clark said. "She's a physical therapist at Metro General. He didn't say much else about her, but I get the feeling he thinks the world of her."
"Any woman Henderson would marry has to be kind of unusual, anyway," Lois said. "I always kind of thought of him as married to his job. I'm going to have to meet this one. So, did he have anything to say about the Quigley thing?"
"A little. He's been wondering if there's something else behind it besides just money. There were those two anonymous cash contributions that no one ever came forward to acknowledge, remember. And Jimmy found out that the car, yesterday, belongs to the daughter of one of Quigley's private backers: Charles Jackson. He and his wife are out of town, too. I suppose," he added, "it could simply be an incredible coincidence."
"Uh huh," Lois said. "And I'm the Mayor of Metropolis. I don't think the guy is likely to want to incriminate his daughter, but there's some sort of connection; you can bet on it."
There was a soft "ding" and the elevator doors opened.
"I suppose," Clark said, as they entered, "that whoever's behind it could have used Jackson's daughter to divert attention from himself."
"I was thinking the same thing," Lois said. "It would have to be somebody who has access to the donor list, since it wasn't in the papers."
"Well, that would include everybody who has any kind of connection to the prosecution or the defense," Clark said. "Not to mention the cops originally involved in the case."
"Somehow, I can't see any cop having that kind of money," Lois said. "How about Quigley's defense team? That's an awfully high-priced lawyer he's got defending him. Did anybody ever say how he's being paid?"
"I think he took the case gratis," Clark said. "Everybody assumed that it was for the publicity."
"Well," Lois pointed out, "that's possible. It's a high-profile case, after all -- but that doesn't rule out another reason."
The elevator doors opened on the newsroom floor and they stepped out. The office was considerably less crowded than during the day shift, but Jimmy Olsen was still at his desk, working at his computer. Clark led the way across the Pit. "Jimmy!"
"Huh? Oh, hi, CK."
"How's the hunt going on the email?"
Jimmy sighed. "Not very good."
"Well, maybe we can go at it from another angle, then."
"Why not? I'm not getting anywhere this way," Jimmy said. "What's your idea?"
"Lois and I think that whoever stole the car from Jackson's daughter may have had access to Quigley's donor list," Clark said. "We need to know which of those people might have the resources to make donations the size of the anonymous ones."
"I get it," Jimmy said. "That's pretty smart."
"Let's wait and see if it pans out," Lois said, with uncharacteristic caution.
"I'm getting ready to leave," Jimmy said. "I just emailed everything to myself so I could work on it when I get home. I'll start the research as soon as I get there."
"No date tonight?" Lois asked.
Jimmy shook his head. "Penny's working late."
"Perry still here?" Clark asked.
"He left a little while ago," Jimmy said. "He had a date with Alice."
"That's good to see," Clark said. "I guess we can talk to him tomorrow. Okay, Jim, we'll let you go. See you in the morning."
Jimmy nodded. "You're all right after yesterday, aren't you?" he asked. "I heard you'd been shot in the arm."
"Nothing but a scratch," Lois said. "It bled a bit, but it wasn't serious."
"That's good," Jimmy said. He saved his information and told his computer to shut down. "Be careful, okay?"
"We will," Lois said. "Don't worry about us; we can take care of ourselves. Just concentrate on your part."
When Jimmy had gone, they walked slowly toward the stairs. Clark opened the door for her and a moment later, Ultra Woman and Superman were launching from the roof of the Daily Planet. Below them, Jimmy, on his motorcycle, pulled away from the curb and into the early evening traffic.
Why he picked the sound out of all the other sounds audible to his enhanced hearing, Clark never knew, but the click of the mechanism as someone began to pull the trigger of a rifle was loud in his ears and he knew at once who the target was. He dived toward Jimmy at super speed and snatched him up, motorcycle and all, as the shot echoed through the noisy evening air of Metropolis.
Jimmy yelled in alarm as he became airborne but instinct made him clutch the motorcycle's handlebars more tightly than ever. Lois shot past them in a pink and powder-blue blur and a moment later, she was clutching the man with the rifle in an unbreakable grip.
"Who sent you?" she practically snarled into his face.
The gunman's expression went swiftly from shock to complete blankness. The sight of the infuriated superwoman didn't seem to intimidate him at all.
"I wouldn't hold my arm too tightly if I were you, Ultra Woman," he said, calmly. "I might have to sue you for assault."
"Not in this lifetime," Clark said. "I'm making a citizen's arrest. There's a cop down there," he added, nodding at the blue-clad figure of one of Metropolis's finest. "I think Inspector Henderson might want to interview this ... person." He glanced at Jimmy, who was clutching the handlebars of his motorbike in a death grip. "Hang on, Jimmy. I'll set you down in a minute, but I think maybe you shouldn't spend the night at your apartment, tonight."
Jimmy gulped and nodded.
Half an hour later, he was looking around the small guestroom at the Kent townhouse. "Are you sure you don't mind, CK?"
"Of course not, Jimmy. Superman's right; you shouldn't be where anyone knows where you are tonight. It looks to me like the person who ordered this knows you're on his trail." Clark gestured at the phone jack in the wall beside the small writing desk. "You can hook your computer modem up there."
Jimmy glanced around. "This is nice. I'll get to work right away."
"I'm cooking," Clark informed him. "I'll let you know when dinner's ready."
**********
"He's not talking," Henderson said.
"Why am I not surprised?" Lois Lane's voice said, from the other end of the phone. "Do you know he threatened to sue Ultra Woman for assault when she grabbed him?"
"I heard. The doc was here when Superman brought him in, so I had him check the guy over, just on principle. If he tries to claim that Ultra Woman injured him, he'll have a hard time proving it. How's Olsen?"
"He's working in our spare bedroom. Don't mention that to anyone, would you not? Whoever is trying to get rid of me has evidently decided he needs to dispose of Jimmy, too."
"That's interesting," Henderson said, thoughtfully. "Only a few people are supposed to know that Olsen was trying to trace that email. The investigators that worked on the case, a couple of the DA's people and the defense team know, but no one else."
"Kind of narrows the field," Lois said. "Jimmy's doing a little research into that right now. We'll let you know if he finds anything interesting."
"You do that." Henderson grinned to himself. Mad Dog Lane was in hot pursuit of their would-be killer. He wouldn't give the guy a snowball's chance in Hades of hiding his identity. Not that he would admit that to her. He'd been a little irritated when they'd called him in from home to talk to the suspect but he'd flown over and found that the case had advanced another notch with the capture of a shooter. Ballistics was going over the rifle now to try to determine if it was the same one that had been used to shoot at Lane the day before. If it turned out to be the same weapon, they would be well on their way to a solution.
He tucked the cell phone into his back pocket and concentrated on making a super speed approach to the back window of his home. Judging by the smells issuing from the kitchen, Sue was just about to serve dinner. Maybe, he thought, it was a good thing that he'd acquired Superman's powers. The way his wife cooked, he'd had to devote more time than ever to working out, just to maintain his normal weight over the last year and a half. If he kept the powers, maybe he wouldn't have to worry about that anymore.
**********
(tbc)
Hopefully, I'll be able to finish this in one more part, and before Sunday, because my hubby and I are leaving for Hawaii on Sunday morning to visit our daughter and son in law, and meet our new grandson. If not, I'll do my best to finish on the plane and post from Hawaii. We'll be there for 6 days, because this is my first (and probably only) trip to Hawaii.
Nan
