Finally:
------------------------------------------------------------
"A penny for your thoughts," Alexa offered. Lane had been very quiet on leaving the Staffords.
"I thought we might be superspeeding through all the cautious Friendship Stages here. Carol's really nice... funny, down to Earth… Bob's a bit of a workaholic, but we both know that type," Lane said, pouring glasses of wine for the two of them.
"But?"
"But, Carol seems to want to impress us with how much like us she is, without really knowing us at all, and Bob tried to open the back of my phone while he was in the kitchen with it," Lane said. "Plus, I'm really sure their house phone was working just fine. If I was a suspicious person, I'd suspect they were more interested in Grant Gendell than us."
"I don't remember their names on the list of people who've publically said they want Gendell dead," Alexa said. "But, considering how many people are on that list, the list of the one's who never said it aloud must be huge."
"You know, I hate this," Lane stated. "I don't want to be suspicious of them, but…"
"It's hard not to be when they act so suspiciously," Alexa completed for him.
-o-o-o-
Alexa and Jimmy stared at the list of names.
"A doctor, a contractor, a retired cop who became a bodyguard. Now a dentist. What do they all have in common... why would Deathstroke want them dead?" she asked aloud. She knew there was a link there and it was annoying not to see it.
"Okay. I used to watch Lois and Clark when there did this; let's step back and look at the pattern. They're all men. Over thirty-five. Lived in Metropolis..." Jimmy stared at the list. Finally: "And I really suck at this."
"We need deep background on these guys, see where their paths cross," Alexa commented. "Your Dad's still NIA?" At Jimmy's nod, Alexa handed him her notes. "See what he can tell us about Deathstroke."
"Hunting Deathstroke," Jimmy said with a grin. "Now you're talking."
Lane's phone rang and he grabbed it. He listened, replying in monosyllables. Then: "I'll be there."
Alexa gave him a curious look as he hung up. "In a limo, downstairs, now."
"Now?"
Lane shrugged. "These guys bring new meaning to the word 'paranoid.' Wish me luck."
-o-o-o-
A limousine pulled to a stop in front of the Daily Planet. Lane quickly scanned the vehicle before opening the door – there was only the driver. In the passenger section, below the glass privacy partition, there was a video screen. Lane climbed into the passenger section and the car pulled around the corner and stopped.
"Why're we stopping?" Lane asked. "And where's Mister Denzler?"
"I'm Denzler, Mister Alexander," the chauffeur stated using a small communications link.
"I'd have thought Grant Gendell could hire a driver for you."
"Can't trust drivers," Denzler said. "Do you know that they let almost anyone have a driver's license? Without asking anything about their personal relationships?"
Lane wondered exactly how stable Denzler was – Lane knew that all the drivers for the O'Brien Agency had passed rigorous background checks before being allowed anywhere near clients. Metropolis even had a vetting process for cab drivers.
The video screen flickered on to show a shadowy silhouette.
"I'm sorry about this, Mister Alexander," Grant Gendell's voice said over a small speaker by the video screen. "But Denzler is paid to be paranoid. It's a trait I admire."
"I... understand," Lane said, even though he really didn't.
"I'm one of the few people who have actually met Mister Gendell," Denzler stated testily. "And if it were up to me, it would stay that way."
"Forgive me, Mister Alexander, but we have a few routine security questions for you..." Gendell said, interrupting Denzler. "Have you visited a foreign country in the last seven months?"
"I'm sure you know my wife and I went to Europe on our honeymoon," Lane said. "That was several foreign countries." Lane frowned as super hearing picked up two echoes of his response. Maybe Denzler and Gendell were right in being extraordinarily cautious. Unfortunately, he couldn't tell Denzler that his precautions weren't good enough to keep them from being overheard.
"Is anyone in your life familiar with the use of Plastique, AK-47s, strychnine, or similar explosives, weapons or poisons?" Denzler asked.
"Does the MPD bomb squad count?"
A chuckle sounded from the tiny speaker.
"Are you now or have you ever been employed by Gendell Technologies or any of its subsidiaries?" Denzler went on.
"No…"
"… or acquainted with any present or former employees?" Gendell asked.
"Not until today," Lane answered.
Denzler crowed in triumph.
"He means you, you idiot," Gendell barked, taking the wind out of Denzler's sails.
A few more questions then finally: "I know we've never met and I'm supposed to be a half-insane potentially dangerous hermit. So coming here took guts, a trait I also admire, so I guess what I'm trying to say is... I like you, Mister Alexander."
"Thanks, I think," Lane said. The double echo was still there but it seemed that someone was listening to what was being said in the limousine and someone else was listening to the listeners.
-o-o-o-
"Anything?" Jimmy asked. Alexa was staring at her computer screen.
"Waiting on a search. You?"
"This Deathstroke's a ghost," Jimmy said. "Nobody's seen him, talked to him, at least no one alive... The list of people they think he killed is pretty amazing. Check it out." He handed Alexa a long list of names. Alexa whistled as she skimmed over a few of the more prominent names - politicians, business people, even a few entertainers. Everyone listed had officially died of 'cardiovascular events'.
"My Dad says nailing him's been a top priority for the NIA but they can never agree: is he in London, L.A., Hong Kong, here in Metropolis? And with the budget cuts..."
"I know, I heard," Alexa told him.
Her computer beeped, marking the completion of its task. "Okay, here we go... accessing all data banks, where do these guys cross?"
"Three of them have the same hat size," Jimmy observed.
Alexa ignored the comment. "All four have been paid by a company called Denzler Limited. Denzler, that sounds so…" Then it clicked: "Gendell's lawyer. All four of these men worked for Gendell's lawyer..." Alexa got up. "When did Lane say he was coming back?"
"He didn't."
Alexa took off at a near run.
"Alexa, where you goin'?" Jimmy called after her.
-o-o-o-
Supergirl spotted Lane getting out of the limousine and landed a short distance away.
Lane grinned at her. "Hey. Guess who nabbed the interview of the century?"
Supergirl didn't return the grin.
"What's wrong?"
"Those deaths Alexa's been looking into... You know, the red marks on the chest...?
Lane nodded, frowning.
"Well, his four most recent victims all worked for Denzler…"
"Denzler, Limited?"
Supergirl nodded.
"It's a shell company. Gendell uses it when he doesn't want records that could indicate anyone ever worked for him directly," Lane said. "He only uses it for people he's made direct contact with …bodyguards…"
"…doctors, contractors," Supergirl finished. "And that's exactly who Deathstroke's been killing."
Lane looked around the area to see if he could spot the listeners. Supergirl gave him a curious look and he told her about the 'echo'. But there were too many cars on the street, too much movement. And although the voices he'd heard commenting on one set of the 'echoes' were familiar, Lane couldn't quite place them.
Then they both heard the scream from down the street.
Supergirl rounded the corner to the alley behind the Wolcott building to find a man in a gray metallic body suit standing over Agent Rawlins, one hand on Rawlins' chest.
"Deathstroke." Supergirl identified him. The man straightened up and Rawlins slumped to the ground next the open door of his car.
"Supergirl. You know me?" Deathstroke asked.
"Agent Rawlins is a friend of mine. He'd better be alive," she warned.
"Or what?" Deathstroke challenged with a smirk as he grabbed her arm.
She grabbed his shoulders, trying to get a wrestling hold on him and was suddenly seared by pain as he grabbed her shoulders. Her heartbeat sounded loud in her ears. Deathstroke was strong, far stronger than any normal human. She could feel her strength waning. But Deathstroke's strength seemed to be ebbing as well.
"I'm not… letting go…" Supergirl managed to say through the pain.
"…Neither am I."
Lane moved to help, but the combatants were surrounded by a shimmer of … something. Something that wouldn't let him get close. But he could see through it even though there were subtle distortions. Lane shot a narrow beam of heat at Deathstroke's back, distracting him enough for Supergirl to break way. She sagged against the building. Lane was torn – go after Deathstroke, who was dragging himself to the mouth of the alley, or stay to help Alexa?
He opted to stay with Alexa but he also took note of a car that slowed to pick up Deathstroke then sped away.
"What'd he do to you? Are you all right?" Lane asked.
"I.... will be," Supergirl said after a moment. She looked over to where Rawlins was sprawled. Lane checked his pulse then shook his head.
"Lane, I never felt anything like it… my chest tightened up… my head was spinning… must be what a heart attack feels like…"
"We need to see Dr. Klein."
-o-o-o-
"When I tried to get close it was like when you try and press two magnets together and they repel...?" Lane explained while Klein peered through a microscope at a blood sample from Rawlins.
"Magnetism...?" Klein muttered to himself. He headed over to a different microscope and placed a sample from Rawlins and one from Supergirl under the lenses. It wasn't easy getting a blood sample from a super-powered being, but a brief exposure to a nearly microscopic particle of Kryptonite had done the trick.
Klein put the images side by side on a computer monitor. "The composition of Kryptonian blood is obviously different from that of a human - but in both these samples, the erythrocytes are either clinging together, or repelling each other…"
"As if the bloodstream itself was magnetized?" Supergirl asked.
"He's affecting the iron in the bloodstream, cutting off the flow of blood to the heart," Lane reasoned aloud.
"But since there's a different amount of iron in your bloodstream, he couldn't kill you as easily as the others," Klein added. "But given time, he could well finish the job. As it is, he's dangerously altered your blood chemistry."
"Meaning?" Lane asked.
"Meaning, until Supergirl's blood's had a chance to repair itself, I can't promise that another bout with Deathstroke wouldn't kill her," Klein said. "It's a certainty that no non-super-powered person could stand against him."
"In that case, I guess we've got to find a way to stop Deathstroke before he figures out where Gendell is hiding," Supergirl stated. "Dr. Klein, where would we find information on magnetic research? Older research?"
"Star Labs maintains a fairly complete archive, plus I know people at Met U who keep track of things like that."
"Could you check for anyone who may have been doing that kind of research for Gendell Technologies?" Supergirl asked. "Agent Rawlins said there might be some revenge motive involved; maybe it's some kind of grudge against Gendell."
-o-o-o-
"Maybe we should've canceled tonight," Alexa said as they walked up to the Stafford's house. "Maybe we should be looking for Deathstroke..."
"Except that we have no idea where he might be hiding," Lane reminded her. "Our best bet is for Klein to come up with the name of somebody who fits the bill. Barring that bit of luck, hopefully we can catch him before he gets to Gendell." He sighed. "I just wish we knew who Rawlins was tailing. And I wish I could place those voices. I know I've heard them before." He knocked on the front door and then glanced over to the bay window. The drapes were open and Lane could see Carol rushing to tidy things up while Bob… it looked like Bob was closing the door on a secret compartment behind the large bookcase.
"Now that is very odd," he muttered.
Carol opened the door before Alexa could respond.
Lane forced a cheerful smile onto his face as Carol invited them in. Lane handed over the wine he and Alexa had brought while Bob set cheese and crackers out on the coffee table.
The conversation over the wine and cheese was innocuous but Lane found himself drawn to the bookcase and the hidden closet behind it. The closet was lead-lined, which was more than a little suspicious.
"I love the wood you used for those bookshelves. What is it, cherry?" he asked.
"It came with the house," Carol stated.
"You know, a lot of houses built around this time had secret closets and store rooms," Lane said, trying to sound nonchalant. He glanced at Alexa. "Honey, remind me to ask Joel about that sometime."
Carol sniffed the air. "Bob, do you smell that?"
Bob looked confused. "Oh, hope it's not the cacciatore," he said after a moment. He hurried off to the kitchen, Carol at his heels.
Alexa frowned. "What's going on?"
[There's a lead-lined closet behind the bookcase,] Lane said mentally.
[Like you said, a lot of houses this age have secret closets.]
[Lead-lined?]
[We have a lead-lined secret room,] Alexa reminded him.
[Why're they always so eager to see us again? Nobody's that eager to see us again,] Lane said. [If we were Lois and Clark, I could see that we could have things in common…]
[That's why you're suspicious? 'Cause someone likes us?]
[And when did they start liking us?! When I started talking to Grant Gendell! And what do all the murder victims have in common? A link to Grant Gendell! That's assuming they're not just trying to butter us up to get to Luthor's money… Plus they fit the profile Rawlins gave you on Deathstroke.]
[A lot of people fit the profile, including us, before…]
[You did admit they were acting suspiciously the last time we were here,] Lane reminded her.
[Well, yes…]
"Hors d' oeuvres?" Carol said brightly, startling them. Lane and Alexa had been so involved in their mental conversation they had missed Carol coming in with the tray of hors d' oeuvres.
"So, any news on the interview with Grant Gendell?" Carol asked, a little too cheerfully.
"Just waiting to hear back from his security people," Lane said. "Of course, it could still fall apart. Word on the street is that Deathstroke may be after him."
"Deathstroke?" Bob asked. There was an odd catch in his voice.
"A very mysterious, very highly paid, very successful, assassin," Alexa said. "He faced off against Supergirl today after he murdered an NIA agent. I'm guessing the agent was on to him."
"Is she okay?" Carol asked. "I mean, I'm guessing this Deathstroke person got away…"
"Why shouldn't she be okay?" Lane asked. "She's Supergirl."
-o-o-o-
"Okay, they do fit the profile, they do seem way more interested in being friends with us than seems logical considering the supposed age difference, and Bob did try to do things to your phone and possibly lied about his own phone being dead," Alexa conceded the next day at work. "But there might be a logical explanation for a secret lead-lined closet."
"Name two that don't involve hiding things from Superman," Lane ordered. He checked his watch. "Any minute," he muttered. "He's calling any minute."
Jimmy was speaking earnestly into the phone at his desk. "I don't know, honey, tunnels and sewers are cool, but I'm not too crazy about railroad tracks. Well, there's the trains for one thing... Hold on." He put her on hold while he answered a different line. "City room … Lane, Dr. Klein on line three."
"Now?" Lane asked.
Alexa shrugged and picked up the phone. "I'll take it…"
"I may have turned up something," Klein started. "About six years ago, a man named Earl Gregg was performing experiments in magnetics for one of Grant Gendell's companies. The experiment went awry, and Gregg's body was flooded with microscopic magnetized particles... I'm faxing you the background..."
Lane's cell phone range as Alexa stepped over to the fax machine.
"I've got to go…" Lane told her as he headed for the elevator.
"Lane, hang on.... There's a fax coming in that..." Lane was gone.
Alexa turned back to the phone and Klein. "How did this Mr. Gregg survive?"
"He very nearly didn't. The accident unleashed tremendous forces in his body, causing him great pain. A fellow researcher created a suit that brought his condition under control, so long as the suit remains intact. Anyway, he sought damages from Gendell Technologies, but the company fought it and cut him off without a cent."
The fax machine was agonizingly slow as it printed out the cover sheet and then what looked to be a newspaper article.
"So, what'd the guy do?" Alexa asked.
"Well, he married the woman who made the suit, for one thing," Klein said. "And the two of them exhibited classic signs of Disgruntled Postal Worker Syndrome. In short, they flipped out, and declared undying revenge against Grant Gendell, even though all the evidence seems to point to the accident being due to Gregg's negligence."
Finally the fax machine printed the last page, a photo that had accompanied the article showing Mister and Missus Gregg. The photo was six years old, but the man and woman were clearly Bob and Carol.
Lane had been right. The 'Staffords' had been too good to be true.
[Lane,] Alexa called mentally. [Deathstroke's real name is Earl Gregg, also known as Bob Stafford. I'm on my way.]
-o-o-o-
Lane acknowledged the message as the limousine pulled to a stop in a littered alley in Suicide Slum. He stared out the car window and then tapped the privacy screen. It lowered and Denzler looked back impassively at him.
"Excuse me, where are we?" Lane asked. It was mostly for show; Lane knew where the alley was – just off Michelberg Avenue which was one of the most disreputable areas in Metropolis. The building to the right was on Lane and Alexa's short list of currently untenanted buildings. The one on the left had several less than reputable tenants, at least one of which was suspected of being a gang hideout.
"Precisely where we should be," Denzler said, getting out of the car and opening the door for Lane.
"Grant Gendell lives here?" Lane asked. He couldn't keep the disbelief out of his voice as he looked around. "Oh, I get it. Those street people aren't really street people. They're probably ex-Navy SEALS working as undercover bodyguards."
"No, they're street people."
"So where is your security?"
"Our security is in only hiring people we can trust."
"But you don't trust anybody."
"Exactly."
Denzler made a show of opening a rusty door to revealed a heavy steel door with reinforced hinges. He keyed in a code that opened the inner door.
The windowless room beyond was glisteningly bright. A circular staircase lead to a loft. One wall of the room was covered with electronic equipment - computers and television monitors. The screens showed the area around the building and several blocks beyond.
Standing in the middle of the room was a harmless looking, elderly man who grinned at Lane.
"Where's the last place you'd look for the richest man in Metropolis?" the man asked.
"The worst street in town," Lane answered.
The man chuckled. "The only thing the army ever taught me that was worth a damn, Mister Alexander. The best camouflage is plain sight."
"Mr. Gendell…" Lane began.
Gendell interrupted him. "Course now things are different. I'm a different man, Mister Alexander, I want the world to know…"
"That's fine and we'll get to that but…"
"No, I'm gonna say my piece. I want to live out there again. I want to make up for all the bad things I've done. I'm donating my entire fortune to charity."
"That's very…
"My money's made me a prisoner. I'm locked in here twenty four hours a day, paranoid, afraid, Denzier driving me nuts. And then, while I was watching 'Ice Station Zebra' again, I realized… what have I got to be afraid of?"
"Well, a lot…" Lane tried, wondering where Alexa was. She should have been there by now.
"Exactly. Nothing. So…"
"Mr. Gendell, I don't want to alarm you but do you have any bodyguards?" Lane was finally able to say.
"Had a platoon of 'em once. Worthless every one. Fired the last one two years ago. My security, Lane, is all up here," Gendell said, tapping his temple. "I can call you Lane, can't I?"
"Mister Gendell, there's an assassin named Deathstroke. He's been killing anyone who knows you by sight. And we're pretty sure he's after…"
Lane heard Alexa arrive outside and opened the door for her.
"Who is that?" Gendell demanded.
"Supergirl."
Gendell looked mystified. "What's going on here?"
Supergirl pulled the fax out from behind her back and showed the photo to Gendell. "Do you recognize these people, sir?"
Gendell shook his head.
"Earl Gregg and his wife were employed by your firm six years ago," Supergirl went on. "He suffered a terrible accident and got no compensation from…"
"…the mighty and powerful Gendell Industries," they heard Deathstroke say.
Deathstroke and Carol were in open doorway. Deathstroke had Denzler by the neck.
"Deathstroke," Supergirl said with a grimace.
"Carol and Bob," Lane said.
Bob looked mystified. "He recognizes me?"
Carol shrugged. "I always said the glasses weren't enough of a disguise."
"Your plan's blown, Bob, Carol; it's over," Supergirl stated.
Carol snorted "You have no idea what the plan is."
Lane stared at her. "Everyone who recognizes Grant Gendell is dead, and you what? Replaced his medical records with yours…?
"… then you take over his life. Who'd know? Siphon off his fortune, and disappear in style. Something like that?" Supergirl completed the idea.
"They do know what the plan is," Bob said.
"That's, it? You want to be me?" Gendell asked in astonishment "What are you, brain dead? Look around, kids, I live in a cube."
"Mr. Gendell, I don't think this is the time…" Denzler managed to choke out.
"Believe me, Mr. Gendell, how you've lived and how we'll live are two very different things," Carol said.
The hand Deathstroke had on Denzler began to pulse. Denzler started to convulse.
"Don't do this," Supergirl pleaded.
"It doesn't have to end like this," Lane added.
"You have no idea what he did to us, Lane," Carol said. "He took everything we had, made us criminals… But then I guess you'd never really understand, being Luthor's kid, having everything handed to you."
Deathstroke lunged for Gendell while keeping hold of Denzler, but Supergirl blew super-breath at them, knocking Deathstroke Deathstroke and Denzler back. Unfortunately, Deathstroke managed to get grab Gendell. She dove at them to break Deathstroke's grip, but he grabbed her instead.
Again, the shimmering magnetic field. Lane could feel Alexa's pain, hear her slowing, distorted heartbeat.
"I've…been reading up… I know about your suit," Supergirl managed to say as she began to focus her heat vision on Deathstroke's suit. It began to burn away
"You're weak…" Deathstroke taunted. "You won't be able to destroy my suit before…"
Lane focused his own heat vision on the suit. More and more of the suit was disappearing under the onslaught.
Supergirl and Deathstroke had collapsed to their knees again.
"Give up," Deathstroke ordered.
"I don't... think so... Bob."
Finally the magnetic field started to lose its strength and Supergirl's heartbeat sounded stronger.
Suddenly, Deathstroke wrenched back from her. Energy seemed to be arcing across the gaps in his suit.
"No! The suit is all that contains his power!" Carol screamed as the energy played across Deathstroke, making him twitch and lurch. Metal components from Grant Gendell's electronics array flew through the air and stuck to him. Then he flew back against a steel girder that had pulled out of the wall.
-o-o-o-
It was almost anti-climactic. The police arrested Bob and Carol – Carol was cuffed while Bob was pulled off the girder by S.T.A.R Labs techs supervised by Doctor Klein.
"Do you know what it's like, seeing your husband go through a thing like that?" Carol asked.
"Believe it or not, I do have a pretty good idea," Lane said. Supergirl had left but Alexa hadn't arrived yet. Finally she walked in. She looked tired, more tired than Lane remembered ever seeing her.
"How are you?" Lane asked.
"Let's just say I've had better days," Alexa said.
"Haven't we all," Carol said. She went on. "I just want to say I wish ... well, I wish a lot of things but..."
"I think what Carol's trying to say is, we're sorry about the way it turned out," Bob said.
"You mean, sorry you got caught?" Lane asked.
"No." Carol said.
"Well, yes," Bob admitted.
Carol shrugged. "Okay, yes… but… also sorry we had to fake being your friends. You seem like good kids..." Her voice trailed off as an officer led her away.
-o-o-o-
Both of their stories ended up on page one: "RECLUSE GENDELL TARGETED BY ASSASSIN - Exclusive Interview With Billionaire" by Lane Alexander. ASSASSIN APPREHENDED - Supergirl On Scene" by Alexa Parker Alexander. The photo was of Bob and Carol in custody.
"Well, you were right about Bob and Carol," Alexa said.
"Sometimes is sucks to be right," Lane said. "But at least you're okay."
"Klein wants me to take it easy for a few days. At least until my blood chemistry gets back to normal."
"Well, I'm sure there are things we can do that won’t be too taxing," Lane said as he leaned in to kiss her.
"Love," Perry said from behind them. He sounded disgusted.
"What a waste," Jimmy added.
"Tell me about it."
Alexa stared at them. "You guys okay?"
"Candy dumped me like yesterday's rice," Perry told them.
"Aurora's moving to Beirut," Jimmy said.
"I guess we won't be double datin' anytime soon," Perry said.
"Well, I think maybe our double dating days are…" Alexa began.
"Lane!" a familiar voice called out. Grant Gendell was coming toward them, dressed in a new suit and splashy tie. An attractive young woman was hanging onto his arm. "I just came by to say thank you for re-introducing me to the world. Wondered if maybe you'd like to join my new friend Connie and me for dinner?"
"No, I don't, uhhh..." Alexa started
"We'd love to," Lane stated.
"We would?"
"'Course you would," Gendell announced. "Take it from me: get out, take a few risks, live!"
"Exactly," Lane agreed cheerfully.
"Hey, have you heard this song about a fly in some girl's chardonnay?" Gendell asked as he ushered them toward the elevators "Unless they rewrote the dictionary, there is nothing ironic about that... Now, a recluse who finally decides to stop hidin' on the day he's almost killed...?"
"That's ironic," Lane and Alexa agreed.
"Bob and Carol and Lois and Clark" was written by Brian Nelson
Last edited by Dandello; 03/13/17 03:41 PM.
