Chapter 12
Jonathon Kent snapped the television set off with a heavy heart and turned to his wife where she sat, white-faced, on the end of their hotel bed. They’d sat for hours, watching as the Children’s Wing of the Metropolis Hospital burned, hoping against hope that their son would swoop in to save the day.
But he hadn’t.
The wing had been reduced to a pile of smouldering rubble, and he still hadn’t come.
It was the third disaster in two weeks to hit Metropolis, and Superman had been conspicuously absent from all of them.
Martha got jerkily to her feet and yanked one of their duffel bags out from underneath their dingy bed. She moved to the tiny closet and started pulling out armloads of clothes, stuffing them into the bag.
“Martha, what are you doing?” Jonathon asked.
“Going to Metropolis,” Martha replied, still stuffing items into the duffel.
“Metropolis? Martha, we can’t.”
“Our boy is missing, Jonathon. I’m going.” She moved past him into the bathroom, grabbing the few toiletries off the sink.
“Martha. Martha, stop!” He reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders. “We can’t go to Metropolis.”
“And I can’t stay here and not know what’s going on!” she yelled at him. “Something is wrong, can’t you see that?!”
“Of course I can! But you heard Clark’s warning. Someone knows. How can he deal with whatever’s happening if he’s trying to protect us too?” He held her at arm’s length, watching her face. “We have to stay here, in hiding. Until he gives us the all clear. That’s the best thing we can do for him now.”
She stared at him, wide-eyed. Then her face crumpled, and she moved forward into his embrace. “They’ve got Kryptonite,” she sobbed against his chest.
“I know,” he replied, raising one hand to stroke her hair. “I know.”
***
Clark snapped off the television set, unable to watch any longer as the children's wing of MetroGen hospital disintegrated into a smoking heap of twisted debris. He’d barely gotten his leg immobilised in its improvised splint when he’d heard the sirens racing across town to the fire. Then he’d had no choice but to sit in impotent fury and try to glean as much information as he could get from the news coverage that dominated every single television station in Metropolis.
Two days. He just had to wait two days, and then his leg would heal and he could come out of his self-imposed hiding.
***
It took three.
Three days where all he could do was sit at home and brood over the footage of the MetroGen fire.
And watch the death toll rise.
Three days where he was prevented from digging into what he knew to be true. That somehow, this was a targeted attack on him. It had to be Luthor behind this, but how? And why? What was his end game?
Waking up on the third day without the constant throbbing ache in his leg was a weight off his shoulders. Willing himself upwards, he levitated a few inches off his bed before letting himself sink again. Superman was back, but for how long? How long until Luthor appeared out of the shadows with his agony-dealing lump of rock?
He had to act fast.
He had to figure out what was going on. To do that he needed information; and he knew the best source.
***
Even with Clark’s almost encyclopaedic knowledge of Metropolis’s alleyways, it took him quite some time to find the one Bobby had designated as the meeting point. He touched down a block or so away, mindful of the fact that this was a seedy and dangerous part of town, and walked the rest of the way.
Bobby was already waiting, looking anxious and unsmiling.
“Bobby,” Clark greeted the other man.
For once the professional snitch didn’t immediately reach for the food. In place of the normal teasing banter that Clark had come to expect from Bobby, he received a curt, almost cold, nod.
“Kent. Better make this quick.” The smaller man avoided making eye contact, instead looking around nervously.
Clark’s brow furrowed in concern.
“Bobby, what is it?”
“If I get caught talkin’ to you, I’m gonna be in trouble.”
“I need information, Bobby. The disasters- the ones where Superman doesn’t show-“
Bobby snorted, cutting him off. “Diversions, more like.”
“Diversions?”
“Sure.” The snitch reached for the paper sack of deli sandwiches Clark held. “Every time one of those disasters happens, a ship belonging to a certain company docks in the harbour.” For a moment the older man sounded like his usual self, then the cloud descended again. “I gotta go.”
“Wait- what company?”
Bobby shook his head. “Something you did really kicked over an anthill. The Boss has watchers everywhere.”
With that, the wiry snitch turned and disappeared back into the gloom of the alley. Clark remained rooted to the spot, feeling fury rise up inside him.
Diversions.
All those disasters- all of those people killed, all of that property lost - had all been diversions. It hadn’t been aimed at him- or hadn’t just been aimed at him.
He knew with sick certainty who had arranged them and whose ships it was that were docking at the same time.
Unconsciously he clenched his fists. With Superman conveniently out of the way and the authorities overloaded dealing with the disasters, the ships’ cargos wouldn’t be undergoing normal inspections. Just about anything could be smuggled in.
Clark had to get word to Henderson, somehow. He was the only cop that Clark trusted to be free of Luthor’s corrupting influence. But first, he had to try and verify what Bobby had told him.
Moving deeper into the shadows of the alley, he checked for Luthor’s ubiquitous watchers. Seeing none, he launched himself into the air. The Planet should have the information he needed.
***
Lois drew idly on her yellow legal pad as Perry went over the day’s assignments. She already knew full well what she’d be working on. The MetroGen fire. She’d done her spirited best yesterday to convince Perry to continue to hold off on printing any of the veritable flood of letters they’d been getting denouncing Superman, but she wasn’t certain she’d been successful. Ultimately, it wasn’t her decision.
“Lois.” Her head snapped up at the sound of her name. “The MetroGen fire. I need updates on the victims and any information the fire department can give us. Any sign of Kent?”
“Still out sick, Chief,” Jimmy answered.
“Hell of a way to run a railroad,” Perry commented. “Okay. Cat. Get me reactions from the public on Superman’s latest no-show.”
“Chief!” Lois protested.
Perry affected not to hear her and continued around the room.
“Okay, folks. Let’s get out there.” He signalled for Lois to remain in her seat. Under the cover of the general din of the staff leaving the conference room, he commented. “Look. I know he’s your friend. He’s my friend too. But Superman failing to show up for three of the worst disasters to happen in this city in the last twenty-five years is news, and the Planet is obligated to report it. Do I make myself clear?”
“But-“
“Is that clear?”
“Yes,” she muttered.
***
Lois stalked out of the conference room, furious with Perry- and with Superman. Why hadn’t he done what she recommended? Why hadn’t he had the wit to head this off before it snowballed into what she knew, with every ounce of journalistic instinct she possessed, would be a very damaging story?
The sight of Clark disappearing through the arch to the research department only added fuel to her already foul mood. For someone that was supposed to be Superman’s friend, he sure wasn’t doing much to help the beleaguered superhero. Besides, hadn’t Jimmy said he was out sick? Dismissing Clark Kent from her mind with a ferocious scowl, she grabbed her satchel and left for the scene of the MetroGen fire. Lex was picking her up for an early dinner.
***
Once at the Planet, Clark buried himself in the archives, correlating the disasters and the shipping records. As Bobby had said, it all matched. The hospital fire, the crane collapse, the subway crash; within ten minutes of it beginning, a ship had docked in the harbour. It had taken some digging, but every ship could be traced back to LexMarine.
But was it enough?
He had no proof that those ships were carrying anything illegal. Not even enough for probable cause. The metallic construction of a ship meant he couldn’t get a clear look with his x-ray vision without getting close enough to be seen, and Superman paying close attention to a ship would surely tip off the captain- and Lex Luthor.
He couldn’t stand idly by and let more people die in one of Luthor’s little diversions.
Picking up the nearest phone, he checked it quickly for bugs- it was getting harder and harder to find a phone at the Planet that wasn’t tapped- and dialled Henderson’s direct number from memory.
***
Officer Brett Lovell watched furtively as the reporter left Detective Inspector Henderson’s office. They’d been closeted for over an hour; far more time than the Inspector usually chose to spend with a member of the Fourth Estate. Lovell had seen the broad-shouldered man enter the precinct, but hadn’t been able to get enough of a look to confirm that he was, in fact, the man he’d been paid to keep watch for.
This time, however, he was more successful. The dark haired man he suspected to be Kent turned at exactly the right moment for Lovell to identify him. He quickly ducked his head, careful to try and avoid marking himself for suspicion. He’d wait until he was sure Kent had cleared the building before he called the number he’d been given.
***
“Sir?”
Inside the plush confines of the private jet winging its way across the Atlantic towards Metropolis, Lex Luthor looked up at his underling with irritation.
“A phone call from Mr St John, sir.”
“Excuse me, my dear.” He got up from the leather seat he’d been occupying opposite Lois Lane and approached the phone fixed to the rear bulkhead. If Nigel had seen fit to interrupt this particular occasion, something momentous had occurred.
“Yes?”
“We’ve received word that Kent has been in contact with Inspector Henderson of the Metropolis Police Department,” Nigel stated without preamble.
“And the content?” Lex spoke guardedly, aware of Lois Lane and her much-vaunted reporter’s instinct just a few feet behind him.
“Unconfirmed. However, Henderson did make contact with an agent from the Customs Bureau a few minutes after Kent left.”
“I see.” Lex paused for a moment, assessing the ramifications of Kent’s actions. He had to assume that the next incoming cargo had been compromised; the latest one to be received was already in the process of being distributed, and there was no way to get it back without attracting unwanted attention. He had no choice but to cut his losses; in the scheme of things, one cargo was unimportant. Besides, the loss had a silver lining; Kent would need to be taught a salutary lesson. No one- *no one*- crossed Lex Luthor.
“Deal with it.”
“Yes, sir. And the shipment?”
“Dispose of it.”
He hung up the phone; pasting a smile back onto his face, he slid into his previously vacated seat.
“My apologies, my dear. A small item of business that couldn’t be delayed.” He reached over and took Lois’s hand. “Now, where were we?”
Lois took a sip of champagne before answering.
“When you said Italian, I didn’t think we were actually going.”
“My favourite restaurant in Milano. Magnifico.”
“What am I going to do with you?” she responded, a note of fond amusement in her voice.
It was the perfect opening.
“Spend the rest of your life with me.” He slid the velvet box out of his pocket and dropped to his knee on the floor in front of her.
“Lois Lane, will you marry me?”
