Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, storylines etc. are property of DC Comics, Warner Bros and December 3rd Productions.
Author's note: Set just after Fly Hard, this story effectively replaces Barbarians at The Planet and House of Luthor. Huge thanks go to KenJ and Trina for beta-reading, and to my niece for the title.
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Two days after being taken hostage at the Daily Planet, Lex Luthor arose early. He was troubled, and Lex Luthor was not often troubled. When you'd risen to the position of being the third richest person on the planet, able to indulge whatever whim you might experience, trouble was something that bothered other people.
He dressed awkwardly, careful of the healing bullet wound high on his shoulder, and scowled. From all accounts, he owed his life to Clark Kent, a giblet of no account who was, Lex considered, unreasonably hostile towards him. The thought was irksome; he didn't like to be beholden to anyone for anything, and on top of that, it gave Lois Lane reason to be grateful to Kent. Feelings like that would make it harder to wean Lois away from her ties at the newspaper.
That matter, however, was not his primary concern for the day.
Entering his office, he picked up the phone and summoned Nigel St John before pouring himself a cup of coffee. He sipped at it while studying the front page of the morning edition of the Daily Planet, looking up at Nigel's entrance.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Morning, Nigel. I think we may have a problem.”
“Your wound, sir?” Nigel queried.
Lex moved his shoulder gingerly, annoyed at being wounded in the first place.
“A small matter. There's been an... interesting development at the Daily Planet.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Our young friend- the one who brought us the globe- has been employed there in some menial capacity. I found him on good terms with Mr Kent. It seems an unlikely friendship.” He sat down behind his desk, leaning back in his chair meditatively. “Our young friend claimed to have found the globe in a Dumpster. Now, you and I both know that that was... unlikely at best. But we never discovered where he did acquire it.”
“It seems more likely that he stole it, sir.”
“Exactly. But from where?” He lit a cigar and puffed at it until it was drawing properly. “I wonder...”
“Sir?”
“Nigel, get me a list of all burglaries in Metropolis for say... the last 3 months.”
“Certainly sir.”
Discreetly the manservant exited the room, leaving Lex alone with his thoughts.
…
Nigel retreated to his own, much smaller office down the hall from Luthor's. Generally speaking, details such as names and exact addresses of victims of crime weren't given out to the public, but a call to the right person fixed that.
Within an hour, he had the information that Mr Luthor had requested. While he approved of the idea of 'know thine enemy' in theory, as a practical matter he wasn't sure what insights Mr Luthor hoped to gain from this list. While crime had dropped since Superman's arrival some ten months before, a city as large as Metropolis still experienced a lot of burglaries in the course of three months.
He took the printout back to his employer's office, leaving it on the desk before exiting, still wondering what Mr Luthor hoped to gain.
…
Lex leafed through the printout Nigel had left behind. It seemed suspicious to him that a young petty criminal like Jack had managed to get a job at a large concern like the Daily Planet, let alone strike up an apparent friendship with one of its top reporters. There had to be an explanation. He picked up the desk phone and pushed the speed dial for Nigel's office.
“Get me any information you can on our young friend. I want to know how he ended up working at the Daily Planet.”
He hung up without waiting for a response and continued leafing through the list. Finding a name he recognised, he laid the printout down.
…
Later that evening, he had the information he wanted.
“So, since we last encountered our young friend, he's found a room in a halfway house and a job, both vouched for by Clark Kent,” he mused out loud. “Clark Kent's apartment was also robbed a few days before young Jack brought us the globe.”
“A tenuous connection, sir.” Nigel pointed out.
“Yes, but a connection nonetheless. Mr Kent seems like the sort of person that would befriend a young thief out of sympathy.” Luthor's voice showed his disdain for such an altruistic notion. “Mr Kent is also a known associate of Superman. Perhaps the globe was stolen from Mr Kent's apartment.”
“A reasonable assumption.”
“Yes.” Luthor settled into his high backed armchair. “What do we know about Mr Kent?”
“I don't believe we've ever done a thorough check into his background, sir.”
“An oversight. Correct it.”
…
The following day, Nigel was able to present Lex with the background he'd requested.
He picked the file folder up off his desk and began to read.
“Clark Jerome Kent. Born February 28, 1966 in Smallville, Kansas. Only child of Jonathan and Martha Kent. Grew up in Smallville, attended Kansas State University on an academic scholarship where he majored in journalism. After college, travelled around the world as a freelance reporter before settling in Metropolis earlier this year.” Lex snapped the folder shut. “Mr Kent has apparently led a blameless existence.”
“So it would seem, sir.”
“Yes. And yet I wonder...”
“Sir?”
“The first known report of Kryptonite came from a town in Kansas. Smallville, Kansas, to be exact. What are the odds that a reporter known to be friends with Superman, who arrives in Metropolis at approximately the same time as the overgrown Boy Scout, also just happens to be from the same small town where Kryptonite is later discovered?”
“I'd say the odds are... astronomical.”
“Exactly. Find out everywhere that Kent filed stories from during his travels, and cross reference the locations with any... unusual happenings. Miraculous tales of survival, disasters that were averted-”
“Possible activities of Superman.”
“Exactly.”
“Very good, sir.”
Lex puffed on his cigar. “To think that all of Metropolis could be fooled by a pair of glasses...”
…
Lex surveyed the map in front of him with a mixture of pleasure and triumph.
Every location that Clark Kent had filed a story from was marked. So, too, were supposed ‘miracles’, most of which were possibly attributable to Superman.
They overlapped.
Almost every known location of Clark Kent was surrounded by a collection of dots, marking suspected ‘super’ activity.
“This, Nigel, this is a thing of beauty,” he commented.
“It would seem that your theory was correct, sir.”
Lex was noncommittal. “Hmm. It could, however, be a coincidence. Perhaps Mr Kent was merely travelling in the company of the alien. Either way, it seems that he knows more than he’s telling.” He leant over the map to take a closer look at a cluster of dots over the Midwestern United States and then looked up at Nigel.
“We need proof.”
“Sir?”
“I want surveillance in place… but discreetly. Tap his phones, monitor his computer. If he makes a call or sends an email, I want to know about it. But don’t follow him-yet.”
Nigel nodded. “Very good, sir.”
Once Nigel had withdrawn, Lex bent back over the map and smiled evilly.
“I will find out what you’re hiding, Mr Kent.”
