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From Part 13:Well, it was up to her. And anyway, she didn’t have to make any immediate decision about how long she stayed, did she?
Lois got up and walked across to him, looking up at the gallery area as she did so. Then she turned to him, and for an instant he thought she was going to hug him. And in that instant he recognised just how much he wanted her to do that, regardless of how risky it was. She’d be safe enough just for one brief hug, wouldn’t she? he asked himself.
But she didn’t hug him. Instead, she laid her hand against his upper arm. “Thank you, Clark. I’d like that very much.”
Like what? She hadn’t said whether she was responding in terms of the couple of days or a week which was probably all she would need to find somewhere else - or in terms of longer. But still... they could talk about that later. For now, it looked as if he had a housemate. And he liked that idea.
*********
Now read on...It was incredibly sweet of him. And, she had to admit, it was a weight off her mind. Oh, she’d been pretty sure that Clark intended to offer to let her stay again tonight, and she’d been prepared to accept - after all, she didn’t have a lot of choice. But she’d known that she couldn’t sleep on his couch - she’d had no intention of putting him out of his bed again - indefinitely. This, though, was a much better solution, and he actually seemed to like the idea himself.
Lois could have hugged Clark. Actually, she’d wanted to when she’d come to join him, but something about him, about his stance, his expression, had told him that he wouldn’t welcome it. Clark just wasn’t a very touchy-feely person. Oh, sure, he touched her occasionally - light, casual gestures; affectionate, but nothing which suggested that he was comfortable with having his personal space invaded. Even when he’d put his arm around her, when they’d been in San Francisco, the gesture had been fleeting - and he hadn’t made a move to hug her today, although he knew she was upset.
So. Okay. It was no big deal. Some people just liked having their own personal space and weren’t the ‘touchy’ type. She knew that Clark cared about her - he was entitled not to want to show his affection for her in physical ways.
Sure, he’d hugged her once, last week, when he’d rescued her from the bank vault - but that was different. Her life had been in danger once more; if he hadn’t come bursting in as Superman, she could have died of suffocation. He’d known that as well as she had. She’d been incredibly lucky to be alive. In the circumstances, it was hardly surprising that he’d put aside whatever hesitation he had about physical contact. And, of course, he’d hugged her again, just briefly, when she’d told him about her parents - but he’d moved away pretty quickly after that. It clearly wasn’t something he was comfortable with.
Anyway, now her accommodation problem was resolved. Certainly temporarily - and, if Clark had been serious, possibly permanently too. Had he really suggested that she could consider this a permanent move? Living with him for as long as she - or both of them - wanted?
She wasn’t really sure how she felt about that. Staying with him for a few days, or maybe a couple of weeks, seemed fine. In fact, it sounded terrific. Clark was a great host: thoughtful, considerate, a wonderful cook and great company. But... permanently? Sharing the apartment with him?
In one sense, it sounded perfect. Living with her best friend, having Clark’s company whenever she wanted - well, whenever he wasn’t out on rescues. But, on the other hand, she was used to having her own space. Apart from when Lucy had been staying with her for a few weeks a while back, she’d lived on her own for several years. Sharing - and sharing with a man, too - could be awkward. But not insuperable, surely?
Well, she didn’t have to decide yet. They could just see how things went over the next week or so, couldn’t they?
And in the meantime, she told herself, they needed to get back to more important matters - such as why Lex Luthor wanted to spy on her. Well, that was easily answered. Somehow, Luthor had figured out that she was a potential threat to him, and he’d intended to neutralise her. She supposed that she should consider herself lucky that he’d only tried to install her in an apartment where he could have her every move watched, her every conversation monitored.
After all, he could have decided to have her killed...
Lois shuddered slightly. She’d had death threats before, of course, but familiarity didn’t make them any more pleasant or welcoming. At the same time, though, if Luthor was going to all this much trouble over her, didn’t it suggest that she and Clark were right about him? That they really were onto something big? He clearly saw her as a risk, and there could only be one explanation for that one.
Yes, Lex Luthor was nervous - and Lois could smell that Pulitzer now.
“He would choose the very day I had my desk stolen out from under me as well as having my apartment burned down,” she muttered, scowling.
“Huh?” Clark, clearly confused by her change of subject, gave her a questioning look.
“Oh, I was just -” She began to explain, but then halted abruptly as another thought occurred to her. Eyes widening, she stared at Clark. “Just how did Luthor know about the hot-desking?”
He frowned. “He knew?”
“Yes! He said...” She concentrated, trying to remember the exact words. “Got it! It was something like... ‘so much more space than working in that cramped newsroom, where you don’t even have a desk right now’. So just how did he know about that, Clark?”
“Good question,” Clark said slowly. “And it makes his offer even more timely, wouldn’t you say?”
Suddenly, it felt as if the whole world was tilting on its axis. The thought which occurred to her was ludicrous, and yet at the same time shocking in its cold audacity. “You don’t think... that maybe Luthor planned all this? The hot-desking - though I don’t know how he could have managed it - and burning down my apartment?”
Clark’s sober expression told her that she wasn’t the only one to have considered that option. “I thought about it,” he said. “Not the Planet - like you, I have no idea how he could have been involved in that. But - yeah, sabotaging your apartment, so that he could get you moved into his.”
“It seems... well, kind of using a sledgehammer to crack a nut,” Lois said, unsure what she thought about the possibility.
“Maybe. But what I thought was that it was sort of crude for someone like Luthor. Though I don’t know - maybe it’s not. But still...”
“It’s not exactly subtle,” Lois agreed. “So maybe it’s all a horrible coincidence?”
“I sure hope so,” Clark said, moving back towards the stove. “More coffee?” At her nod, he began to prepare more drinks. “Because if it’s not a coincidence,” he continued, “then Luthor’s responsible for you losing everything you own - and for you and your neighbours being made homeless. Which is a pretty rotten thing to do.”
“Sick, more like,” Lois said, and shivered. Could Luthor possibly be so twisted that he would think it acceptable to burn down her building, making a dozen or more people homeless in the process, just to get her where he wanted her?
But then, if their guess was right, he had callously arranged for the deaths of people whose only ‘crime’ had been getting in the way of his planned Space Station Luthor. What was arson next to murder?
Though Clark was probably right. It did seem too clumsy for Luthor. Maybe.
The phone rang. Clark passed her the coffee he’d made before reaching across to answer it. “Clark Kent.” There was a pause. “Inspector! Yes, Lois is here - hold on.” Covering the mouthpiece with his hand, he said, “It’s Henderson.”
Henderson? Now, what did her favourite homicide cop want? And how had he known she was at Clark’s?
“Yeah, Henderson, this is Lane. Now, what’s the MPD doing calling me of all people - and going to the trouble of tracking me down to do it?”
“Grateful as ever for the help of the police, I see, Lane,” the dry voice of Inspector William Henderson retorted.
“Well, when the police manage to do something to make me feel grateful, you’ll be the first to know.” Lois rolled her eyes. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“Get ready to offer some of that gratitude,” Henderson drawled. “I’ve just seen a report on a stiff that should interest you.”
“You’re giving me a tip-off on a murder case?” Amazed, Lois shot Clark a glance, raising her eyebrows as she did so. Normally, Henderson was the one doing his best to keep her curious gaze away from his homicide cases.
“Not exactly. In fact, this just looks like accidental death from the report. Guy got run down by a car. The most we have evidence of is probably hit-and-run, but there aren’t any witnesses so the chances of getting the driver are round about zero. Anyway, the guy was wearing overalls with Norton Construction on them, and the police report said there was paraffin spilt on his clothing. Am I making any sense yet?”
It couldn’t be that simple, could it? And yet what possible motive would a construction worker have? “My apartment building?”
“So it would appear. The arson attack on your place is being handled by another precinct, but for once the MPD communication systems worked the way they should, and the connection was made. From what I see here, this guy had a grudge against Norton Construction - he was fired yesterday and he was working out his notice. Some of the other workers reported hearing him make threats about doing them damage. Making sure they’d lose a couple of contracts. Costing them some money - you get the idea.”
“And so setting fire to my apartment was getting back at his employer?” Lois said incredulously. “If I could get my hands...”
“He’s dead, Lane,” Henderson reminded her dryly.
“So he set fire to my place, then died a few hours later as a hit-and-run victim? That’s what you expect me to believe?”
“You find something hard to believe about that?”
“You bet I do!”
“Such as?”
“Try it’s far too damn convenient for a start!” Lois exclaimed. “He sets fire to the place, and is then found conveniently dead a few hours later with paraffin all over his clothes? And even more conveniently, his co-workers remember him making threats? Oh, sure, an open and shut case there, all right, Henderson - for a set-up!”
“Maybe. And maybe it’s just possible that the convenient answer is actually the truth this time?” the detective suggested.
“And maybe I can walk on water! Come on, Henderson, you don’t really believe that, do you? You wouldn’t even have this report if you did, would you?”
His response ignored the question. “I just thought you’d want to know, since he’s linked to your current... involuntary homelessness.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Going to give me a name, Henderson?”
She thought he would refuse, but after a moment he spoke again. “Craig Allen. And the department is still trying to trace next-of-kin, so that’s classified information.”
Lois gestured to Clark for pen and paper; he brought her what she needed and she hurriedly scribbled the name down. “Sure. Thanks. And, Henderson?”
“Yeah, Lane?”
“If you need any more convincing that this isn’t the neat and tidy solution you’re snowing me with, think about this: what caused the explosion at Carter Avenue yesterday? The one that got Norton Construction on the job in the first place? Because, according to Superman, that was no accident either.”
A dry chuckle met her ears. “Oh, you’re good, Lane. But if you quote me, I’ll deny I ever said it.”
“You think I need a testimonial from the MPD?” Lois quipped.
“Just one more thing. This is my case now, so don’t get in my way. Okay?”
“The day I take orders from you, Henderson, is the day I turn in my Press badge!” Lois retorted. She heard another laugh before the click of the line disconnecting told her that he’d hung up.
Interesting. He’d told her, without saying so directly, that he thought the Allen case could be murder. It could only be his case if it was a suspected homicide, after all. And it was her guess that he’d suspected foul play all along - and he’d been playing her along to see what she knew.
“So someone’s going to a lot of trouble to cover up their role in burning down your apartment,” Clark said thoughtfully as she turned back to him. She’d been all set to repeat Henderson’s side of the conversation to him, but at his words she realised that there was no need. He’d heard it all... she really had to get used to everything he could do!
“Yeah. And I want to get Jimmy to run that name through his databases... see what he can find out. Allen’s the stooge, definitely, but there might be something to give us a clue as to who put him up to it.”
“Like Lex Luthor,” Clark said grimly. “Forget what I said about it being too clumsy for him. The whole thing just stinks of a set-up - apart from anything else, how could he have had all those bugs and cameras set up so quickly if he only found out about the fire today?”
“Yeah.” Lois shuddered. “You know, I feel dirty just having been inside the place.”
“Well, you’re not going to be living there. He’ll just have to think again if he wants to find out what you’re up to - and he’ll have a pretty hard time of it around me, Lois.”
“Yeah.” She smiled at Clark. “I’m really glad I have you around.”
He smiled back, and for a moment it almost looked as if he was about to take a step closer to her. But then his expression changed and he looked away. “So, how about you call Jimmy?” he suggested. “And while you do that, I’ll go to Smallville - I need to talk to my parents and start getting the bedroom furniture back here.”
“But you’ll need to wait until it’s dark for that, won’t you?”
Clark shrugged. “It’ll be dark here pretty soon, and my folks’ farm is remote enough that no-one’s going to see me flying stuff out of there. And once I’m airborne I can fly above cloud cover. It's not a problem.”
“Okay.” Actually, having Clark gone for an hour or so was probably a good thing, Lois thought. She needed to regain her equilibrium - she was still feeling shaken up from the combined shock of the fire and Luthor’s spy equipment, and being around Clark at the moment felt just a little bit dangerous - as if at any moment she might embarrass herself totally by throwing herself into his arms and pleading with him to hold her. Or, even worse, to kiss her.
And, since he clearly had no wish to do either, that would be simply humiliating.
*********
Finally out of sight of his domestic and security staff, Lex Luthor marched into his study, lips thin and eyes narrow. He grabbed at the title deeds to the Mercer Avenue apartment complex, crumpling the newly-acquired papers in his hands before letting the ruined documents fall to the floor.
A complete waste of time.
That, and the hours he’d wasted cultivating the idiot from the board of the Daily Planet. Some use that hot-desking policy was now!
She’d suckered him into believing that she was going to accept his offer. That she would willingly crawl into his web, right where he wanted her. And all along she’d planned to reject him. That excuse of hers wasn’t something she’d just remembered on the spur of the moment. It had sounded too well-thought-out for that. She’d obviously known all along that she would refuse. She’d been playing with him - for some reason of her own which he had yet to divine.
But he would. Nobody got one over on Lex Luthor, and least of all one very irritating, thorn-in-the-side reporter.
He’d exerted all his charm on her. He’d smiled, flattered, shown concern, allowed her to see some of the advantages of his wealth, been protective - had even almost acted lover-like in his treatment of her. Just about every other woman he knew would have been putty in his hands after five minutes of that treatment. But not Lois Lane.
Oh, it wasn’t that he actually
wanted her. Though he wouldn’t have been averse to taking what was on offer if she’d fallen into his hands like the ripe plum he’d expected. And, too, he had to admit that the sight of her cuddling up to that insignificant country hick Kent, rather than responding to his own charming courtesy, hadn’t been at all flattering to his ego. To think that any woman with a brain could prefer a low-paid hack reporter with a Kansas accent to the third-richest man in the world, someone with culture, good looks, charm - someone who knew how to behave and who had access to all the best places in society, politics and business - was quite simply astounding. Unbelievable.
But then, this was Lois Lane he was talking about. And he’d known that she was trouble from the day she’d accosted him at his White Orchid Ball.
The question which remained now was: how was he going to deal with her?
She was moving in with Kent. One solution, therefore, was to install the necessary equipment in Kent’s apartment instead. But then, there was no guarantee that she would actually work there - he had no idea what Kent’s apartment was like but, on the sort of salary a man like him would be making, he couldn’t possibly afford anything remotely adequate. The place would no doubt be extremely cramped with Lois living there too. They would probably just try to work at the Planet.
And anyway, Lois had made it very clear that she and Kent were a couple. He had no wish to be assailed by their asinine love-talk - or, even worse, their intimate congress.
He grimaced at the thought.
No, perhaps it would be better to see what could be done at the Planet itself. It wouldn’t be difficult to have the appropriate surveillance equipment set up there - Nigel could have it done without breaking a sweat. Perhaps, also, it was time to examine the contents of Lois’s network drive. He’d have to have Nigel see to that, too. And get some computer security expert on the job in case she’d inconveniently encrypted any of the files.
At least there was one consolation to be drawn from the experience. The very tiresome Ms Lane had been well and truly distracted over the last couple of days, and that distraction would continue. She would have had little time to spend poking her nose into his business, what with spending several hours at her apartment building, at least an hour with him that afternoon, and now all of the dealings she would need to have with her insurance company. And, of course, she still had no permanent desk to work at, which would continue to slow her down. So, he supposed, the hot-desking policy wasn’t a complete waste of time.
Lex marched across his office to the large window overlooking the city. A flick of a switch, and the glass door swung open; one second later, he stood on the balcony gazing across at the panorama in front of him.
Everyone in the city had to look up if they wanted to see him. That fact never failed to please him.
Well, everyone except Superman, of course - as that irritating scarlet monstrosity had pointed out on one unforgettable occasion. Superman - someone else with whom he would have to deal at some point. For now, there was no immediate hurry; despite the man’s - the
alien’s - threats, he hadn’t actually dared make any open attempt to challenge the supremacy of Lex Luthor.
Unlike Lois Lane, the more pressing problem.
Of course, perhaps he was being unduly precipitate. There might well be no cause for concern at all. The Lane woman had been asking questions, true; but questions for which she had not received any helpful answers. There was no evidence to tie him in any way to the robotic boxers. He’d been very careful about that: all leads pointed to Max Mencken. And Mencken would keep his mouth shut; he was only too aware of what would happen to him if he didn’t.
What else could Lane possibly know about?
Nothing, so far as he knew. But that didn’t necessarily mean that she wasn’t... curious. He’d observed her from a distance for the past couple of years, after all: it didn’t do for a man in his position to ignore the journalist who, three years running, had walked off with the Kerth Award for Best Investigative Journalism. For investigative read nosy, naturally.
He would just have to take precautions.
And as for Kent... Lex scowled as he remembered the way the younger man had spoken to him. Kent had all but accused him of publicity-seeking in offering Allan Morris a new job. That kind of disrespect couldn’t go ignored. Perhaps... well, some sort of accident should do nicely. A couple of broken bones would suffice as punishment.
Nigel would see to it.
Smiling again, Lex Luthor turned away from the window and stabbed the bell to summon his assistant.
**********
...tbc
