Supercop II: The Black Knight 3/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
Norma put the binoculars on the passenger seat, still gazing thoughtfully upward in the direction that the black-clad superhero had vanished. After a moment, she shook her head. The sense of familiarity was deceptive, she thought, but for a very brief second, watching the man in action, the impression had flitted through her mind that she knew him.
"Nah," she said after a moment. "You're sleep-deprived, Randall. It's just one of those things."
The van in front of her was beginning to inch forward, and she eased up on the clutch, allowing her car to creep after it. It seemed as if the Black Knight's intervention had speeded things up considerably. Maybe she'd get home in time to get a decent day's sleep after all. She would be awfully happy, she reflected, not for the first time, to be off the night shift. The lack of sleep was making her imagine things.
And now, Part 3:
**********
Henderson arrived at the auditorium in time to catch a hurried Principal Crandon opening the door to the side entrance, and jogged forward to catch the door before it swung shut. The man glanced over his shoulder and heaved a sigh of relief. "Good; it's you," he said. "I was afraid you were going to be late."
Henderson shook his head. "Traffic jam," he said, truthfully if rather misleadingly.
"We're running a little behind schedule," Crandon explained, ushering him up the rear stairs into the back stage area. "The man that usually handles the audio equipment called in sick this morning. Said he'd had an accident at home and was in the emergency room -- which left us short handed. Fortunately, one of our students that deals with the sound during musical performances was able to substitute, so we'll only be delayed about ten minutes or so. I hope Superman gets here soon. He's late. The Black Knight is scheduled to be here, too, but he's the second to last speaker, so he said not to expect him until the last minute."
He nodded, acknowledging the information, all the while glancing around at the students that were running back and forth, carting around equipment and generally creating an air of complete chaos. Since he had played the trumpet in his school band many years ago, he recalled a good deal of the preparations for various presentations, and wasn't fooled. Still, he reflected, surely, he had never been as young as the kids he was watching now, had he?
Several of the other speakers were already waiting and he took a seat beside them. One or two of them were studying their presentations and Henderson took a moment to glance down at his own notes, reading them at super speed to refresh his memory. It was too bad, he reflected, that Kent's photographic memory had not been transferred with the other super powers, but he figured that was something he'd probably had from birth, and not a power conferred on him by Earth's yellow sun. He wondered for a second if all Kryptonians had that kind of memory, or if Kent had just been lucky. In any case, it didn't really matter. His own memory had always been excellent, and the ability to read and reread the speech a dozen times at super speed made memorizing it simple.
Speaking of Superman, here he came now, striding across the backstage area, his cape waving gently in the draft from one of the fans. He nodded politely to the other guest speakers and took a seat next to Henderson. "Hi, Bill. I was wondering if you were going to get here on time. Weren't you in that traffic jam on the expressway?"
"Almost," Henderson said, deadpan. "I took a detour. Fortunately the Knight showed up and helped clear the lanes."
"Yeah, I heard. I'd have gone to help, but I had to stop to break up a mugging. Besides, it sounded like he had it pretty well in hand. Got your speech memorized?"
Henderson nodded. "Looks like they're about ready to start. By the way, I'd like to speak to you privately after the assembly, if you can spare a minute." He'd pass along Brighton's request then, he thought. Then they could decide how to deal with that particular problem and get it out of their hair.
The chaos around them was subsiding, and Principal Crandon wiped his heated brow. "Five minutes," he said to the lined up speakers, and stepped through the curtains. Henderson followed his progress with his x-ray vision. The seats were full of whispering, squirming teenagers who, Henderson was well aware, were completely uninterested in the subject matter about to be presented, and who undoubtedly looked on this whole affair as a welcome relief from classes. Oh well, maybe the information he was about to give them would make a few of them stop and think before accepting that first offer of a recreational drug. It had been a cop, many years ago, that had impressed a very much younger Bill Henderson to stay away from such substances, and inspired him to want to follow in his footsteps. Maybe he and Clark could do the same for a kid or two in this audience.
**********
"Any luck yet?" Lois asked.
Jimmy Olsen paused, his arms full of folders. "I just put some preliminary stuff on your desk," he informed her. "Serial rapists are pretty common, but the ones with this guy's pattern are a bit rarer. I've been looking for news reports on the same kind of crime spree in other cities, going back two years, for starters, and ending no later than three months ago, when it started up in Metropolis. It was the best I could do until you can get me the other information."
"Henderson told Ultra Woman that he'd probably have it over here by this afternoon," Lois said. "If it doesn't show up I'll call him and bug him about it."
"I'd call him, but he's got a new cell phone number," Jimmy said. "I tried to get him but they said the number was no longer in service."
"Yeah, I know," Lois said, wryly. "He gave me his new one. Next time I see him I'll ask if I can give it to you. I doubt he'll mind, since you had his number before."
"Okay," Jim said. "I guess that was 'cause of the cell phone scam you and Clark busted up last month, huh?"
Lois nodded. "Yeah. I had to replace my phone, and get a new number, too, for the same reason Henderson did. The Planet got a fifteen thousand dollar cell phone bill because they'd captured my phone's code and cloned it. There were calls to Patagonia, for pete's sake. And to Rwanda and Fiji."
"Wow," Jimmy said.
"Yeah. Perry nearly had a heart attack."
"Speakin' of heart attacks," Perry's voice said behind her, "I nearly had another one when I found out their boss had his boys stuff you in a 50-gallon drum and sink you in Hobs Bay."
Lois turned to face her boss. "Ultra Woman rescued me," she pointed out, "and since I'd seen Templeton's face and picked up a lot of details while I was his prisoner, I was able to tell Henderson's people exactly where to look for the evidence. It worked out fine."
"Yeah," Perry said, "but if it hadn't been for Ultra Woman, I'd be short one o' my best investigative reporters. I know I've always backed anything you have to do to get a story, and I always will, but I wish you'd be a little more careful. I'm gettin' too old for that kind of scare."
"I'm always careful," Lois said, ignoring the incredulous expression on the faces of both her listeners. "That was just a piece of bad luck."
"Uh huh," Perry said, unimpressed. "Well, try to remember what I said. It won't do you any good to get a story if you wind up dead. Speaking of which, how's the story on the Midtown Rapist comin' along? Do they have any new leads?"
"A couple," Lois said. "I promised Wolfe I'd hold off publishing them for now, though. He said he'll give me the exclusive if they pan out."
Perry nodded. "Sounds fair to me. In the meantime, what have you and Clark got goin' for now?"
"Well," Lois said, taking a seat at her desk, "I have to write up an Ultra Woman saves the day story. I happened to be passing by when she broke up a grocery store heist this morning. Clark's attending that anti-drug assembly over at Metro High where Superman and the Black Knight are both speakers. He should be back pretty soon. We're going to be doing a follow up on the phone scam last month. Possible ties to Intergang."
"All right," Perry said, "get writing. We've got some space to fill up for the afternoon edition and the deadline isn't getting any farther away."
"Right," Jimmy said. "I have to get this stuff to Eduardo. 'Scuse me."
Lois turned back to her computer, beginning to type up the standard Ultra-Woman saves the day story, while Perry moved happily on to harass Ralph. It was funny, she reflected, how things had changed in the last three months since she and Henderson had unexpectedly received a dose of Clark's powers. In the early days of their relationship, Clark's luck at coming up with such stories had annoyed her. It had seemed to the younger, very driven Lois Lane that it was completely unfair that the superhero always seemed to appear to save the day when Clark was somewhere nearby. Later, when she had figured out his secret, she and Clark had shared such stories, but now she was in the same position as Clark at the beginning of his career as Superman. Well, not exactly, since Clark knew who Ultra Woman really was, but it was pretty close. She and Clark shared the superhero stories and sometimes went out of their way, in their other identities, to give the story to a colleague in order to keep themselves from appearing too cozy with the Dynamic Trio as the Star had not-so-cleverly labeled them.
"Wow," Jimmy remarked, as he passed her desk on the way back to his own. "You're getting to be a really fast typist."
She casually slowed her typing speed but didn't comment. She hadn't actually been typing at super speed, but her fingers were flying over the keys at a rate that she had never been capable of before. It was easy to do if she was in a hurry and wasn't thinking about it. The outer world tended to slow down and she could type accurately without consciously rushing. She'd thought that she had learned a lot about her husband's problems two years before when she had been Ultra Woman for two days. That had been deceptive, she knew now. In the three months since the lightning bolt had struck Clark, she had learned a great deal more about the way Superman handled the ordinary things in his life than she'd had the opportunity to discover back then. It had only increased her respect for him. All his adult life, Clark had been doing the things that she had been learning to cope with in the last three months, and he accepted them as normal. She still had a tendency to let her powers get away from her unless she paid close attention to what she was doing.
As the story took form on the monitor screen before her, she found herself wondering again how long these abilities were going to last. Henderson had caved in after about a month and gone to Bernard Klein as well, to the scientist's great delight. Dr. Klein had done repeated tests on both of them, spaced out every two weeks, and so far was unable to detect any difference in the molecular density of their hair. Jesse Stipanovic had received an attenuated dose of the powers through the metal of the plane in which he had been riding, and, even so, his had lasted for a full year. Dr. Klein theorized that what had been mostly impaired had been his ability to adequately absorb sunlight to replenish the energy that he burned up while using his super powers, and so they had gradually faded away. So far, neither Lois nor Henderson had shown any lack in that department at all.
Some distance away, she heard a sonic boom and wondered briefly if it was Clark or Henderson that had produced it but an instant later the door to the stairs opened and Clark stepped out. He trotted down the ramp to the newsroom floor and crossed to her desk. "How's it going? I hear Ultra Woman stopped a robbery a while ago."
"Yeah," Lois said. She put the final touches on her article and LANned it to Perry. "I happened to be passing by, so I stopped and got a statement from her about it. The robbers were a couple of guys driving through town on their way to New York. Apparently they ran short of beer and decided to replenish their supply. You'd think thugs like that would figure out that Metropolis isn't a good place to try that sort of stuff."
"You'd think," Clark agreed. "I guess they somehow figure they're going to be lucky and not get caught."
"Hope springeth eternal," Lois said dryly. "Better get that Metro High article typed up."
"Right away." Clark dropped a kiss on the top of her head and moved over to his desk. "I talked to Joey Templeton's lawyer, by the way. He's pleading innocent in the phone scam case."
"Big surprise there," Lois said. "At least I don't have to show up in court as a witness this time. I already gave them my written testimony."
"Yeah. I need to talk to Bobby. I seem to recall hearing somewhere that Templeton was once associated loosely with Cost Mart. Maybe he can confirm it -- or point me to someone who can tell us more."
"I'll try to get hold of him and arrange a meeting," Lois said. "He mentioned last time we talked that he's interested in the new Thai restaurant that opened up in Old Town."
"Hmm. Maybe we should buy him dinner there and find out what he thinks about the food," Clark said. "If he likes it, we should probably try it. By the way, Henderson passed along something to me after his speech. I need to talk to you about it after I'm done with this piece."
**********
Norma Randall pulled her car into the carport of her two-bedroom house and got out, locking the driver's door. Across the street, Mr. Jenkins was, as usual, working in his garden and, halfway down the block, she could see Mrs. Hanson already on her way to the post office with Tiger, the old lady's elderly Yorkie, trotting sedately beside her, the red leash looped negligently around her owner's hand. A dark blue sedan was parked near the corner, and it looked as if the driver was perusing the morning copy of the Daily Planet. She could see the signature globe at the top of the page facing her. Of the driver, she could see nothing.
She had put the two bags of groceries in the back seat. They weren't heavy, and Norma was able to pick them both up, lock the rear door with her elbow and unlock the front door of her house a moment later with a minimum of juggling her burdens. She turned the knob with her marginally free hand, pushed the door open with her hip, maneuvered her way inside and shut it with her heel.
Neil was already gone, of course. He worked in the morning, and she worked at night, which wasn't too bad a schedule, considering. It left them with the afternoon together, and they made the most of it.
His suitcase stood in the hall and she grimaced involuntarily. He was headed for a business meeting in Los Angeles this evening, and would be gone for two days. She would be dropping him off at the airport on her way to work. She never liked it when he traveled. They had been married for only two years and were still newlyweds. Well, in another few days she would be off the night shift and their schedules would coincide. They were both looking forward to it.
Norma set the bags down on the hall bench and locked the door behind her, then took the bags into the kitchen. There were only three items that needed to be refrigerated. She put them away quickly and left the remaining groceries on the kitchen table as she headed for the bedroom. She was ready for a good day's sleep.
It was as she was unbuttoning her uniform that she noticed the light smear of red on her right palm.
She paused, lifting her hand into the light of the bedroom lamp to examine it. She could swear that it hadn't been there a while ago, and when she ran the forefinger of her other hand across it, it smeared slightly. Cautiously, she lifted it to her nose, sniffing. Was it her imagination, or could she smell the faint odor of blood? She wasn't sure.
But she hadn't cut herself, as far as she could tell. If she had picked up a fairly fresh bloodstain on her hand, where had it come from?
She checked her clothing, finding nothing, and, after a moment, returned to the kitchen to look around.
There was a tiny smear of rusty brown on her grocery bag where she had touched it.
Frowning, Norma retraced her steps to the hallway. Nothing. After a moment, she opened the front door and examined the outer doorknob.
On the underside of the knob was another light brownish smear, now almost dry.
She stared at it a moment. This was distinctly odd.
She examined the substance, but it was now impossible to tell what it had been without the help of a laboratory. Again, she looked at her palm. Well, it could be blood, or it could be a number of other things. Perhaps some child had come along, trying doorknobs, maybe with a little raspberry chocolate from a morning doughnut on his hands?
Looking around, she could see no one within her range of vision. Mr. Jenkins had vanished. He'd probably gone inside for his morning coffee, she thought, and Mrs. Hanson had also disappeared. Even the blue car was gone.
Well, she seemed to have found the source of the stain, but it didn't, after all, seem that important. After a moment, she went back inside, closed and locked the door, and then stood indecisively for a second, looking around.
Nothing had been disturbed that she could see but, just to be sure, she conducted a search of the house, the .38 Special that all officers of the MPD carried while on duty in her hand.
Nothing had been disturbed. All the windows were locked, and both doors as well. There was no one hiding in the other bedroom, or in any of the closets. She even checked under the beds.
Feeling a little silly, Norma went back to her bedroom to prepare for bed. It had been nothing but a false alarm after all. The Midtown Rapist and his escapades must be getting to her more than she realized.
But just to be certain, she locked her bedroom door before climbing into bed.
**********
tbc
