Table of Contents
From Part 20:Lois shrugged. "We might as well. I'm not getting anywhere here anyway. We can start again in the morning."
But Clark gave her a grin. "Actually, we are getting somewhere. I have something to show you - back at my place."
She looked at him expectantly, but he shook his head, his eyes alight with enjoyment. So she stood and raised her eyebrows at him. "Then what are we waiting for?"
"Let's go, partner. The Jeep downstairs?"
"Yup."
He offered her his arm. "Then lead on."
************
Now read on...He'd been so relieved to find her, and so torn apart to see her upset, that he'd actually dared to squeeze her shoulder. And either he hadn't hurt her, or she'd been so upset that she hadn't said anything.
Maybe he wasn't as dangerous to humans as he feared - on the other hand, it wasn't safe to take too many risks. He really should find out what his limits were. Not that Clark could think of any safe way of doing that. Of course, he should probably talk to his parents - they rarely failed to come up with good ideas. But what could they suggest this time? He really didn't like the idea of using his dad as a guinea-pig to see how good his control was.
"You want to drive, or will I?" They were in the parking garage, and Lois's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Your choice," he told her, then grinned as she went to the driver's side herself.
"So what do you have?" Lois asked as they drove out of the building.
"I'll show you when we get back." Clark smiled again at his partner's impatience, but he was savouring his triumph. He wanted her full attention when he told her about it. "What about Luthor? Did he blow your cover?"
"No, and that's definitely weird," she said. "He even talked to me. He found me poking around near the back offices - he acted as if he was in charge, Clark! He asked what I was doing and made me sit with him in the bar area." She related the conversation, and Clark felt his blood beginning to boil at Luthor's behaviour. And at the same time he felt chilled at the realisation of how much danger Lois could have been in.
"Good question - what he was doing there, I mean," was all he would allow himself to say.
"Yes; well, I probably shouldn't have said it to him," Lois said, to Clark's amazement. "It was more of a risk than I needed to take."
"Am I hearing this right? Is Lois Lane actually admitting that she took too much of a risk?"
"Yeah, well, mark it in your calendar, Farmboy. Cause you won't hear me say anything like it again for a long time."
Clark's mouth twitched. "If you say so, partner."
Moments later, she parked the Jeep outside his apartment -
their apartment, he told himself, feeling a considerable amount of pleasure at the thought. They went inside, and he headed straight for the kitchen. "Coffee? Or hot chocolate?"
"Clark!" she exclaimed, frustration in her tone and body language.
Pretending innocence, he raised an eyebrow enquiringly at her. "Lois?"
"Clark. Sit. Now!" she ordered, pointing to the kitchen table. He grinned and did as she asked; she sat opposite him. "Now, what did you find out?"
"Well, you saw Luthor talking to Toni Taylor?"
"Yes?"
"I managed to get close enough to overhear some of the conversation."
"I thought as much!" Now she looked really excited. "What were they talking about?"
"It was more of an argument than a conversation. They're not exactly the best of friends - and they've each got a hold over the other that neither likes," Clark began, then continued to relate what he'd heard.
When he'd finished his recital, Lois gave him an approving nod. "Great work, partner! Okay, I admit it, I'm glad you were there tonight."
"I'm glad to hear it!"
"Okay, so what are we waiting for?" She jumped to her feet and looked expectantly at him.
"Huh?"
"We have to get back there and find whatever it is that's in Taylor's safe, of course!"
"No need." Now really enjoying himself, Clark reached inside his jacket for the contract. "I already found it."
"Let me see that!" Lois grabbed it from him. "Did you put it in this plastic?"
He nodded.
"Oh, nice work!" She fell silent then, reading, only to look up again less than a minute later. "This is dynamite, Clark! If we can be sure that it's really Luthor's signature and not a forgery..."
"That's why I was careful not to handle the paper myself. Henderson can have it tested for fingerprints, and he can have handwriting analysis done on that signature. And, yes, if it's genuine - and I think it is - we've got Luthor, Lois! It may only be for the fires in West River, but it's a start!"
Lois spun around, looking for the phone. "We have to call him. Do you have that number he gave you? Oh, and by the way, did you check this place for bugs?"
Clark nodded. He'd done it earlier, when they'd got back from the Planet. And just now, in the few seconds it had taken him to walk from the door to the kitchen, he'd done another scan. There was nothing - for whatever reason, Luthor had decided not to spy on them in the apartment. "It’s all clear," he told her.
"Good." She was already dialling. "Henderson? It's Lane. We need to meet right away."
Listening in, Clark heard the detective say, "Gee, Lois, it can't wait until morning?"
"This can't. At least, not if you were serious earlier," Lois replied scathingly.
"Just tell me where." Henderson was matter-of-fact.
"We're at 344 Clinton. But we could get to - "
"Kent's place? I'll be there in ten." And the connection was cut abruptly.
"I'll make coffee now," Clark said mildly.
**********
Lois was pacing long before the ten minutes were up. Now that they finally had proof - solid, undeniable evidence - that Luthor was a criminal, even if it was only a drop in the ocean compared to everything she knew he was guilty of, she wanted him nailed. She wanted him arrested and locked away before he could harm anyone else.
For her, that was a new reaction, and part of her was surprised by it; normally, she would want to get the story first and call in the cops afterwards. Now, she just wanted Luthor behind bars and facing as many charges as possible. Sure, she'd get the story anyway, but the story wasn't her principal motive.
Revenge on Lex Luthor was.
He'd made her homeless. Destroyed her apartment, and the homes of all her neighbours - just so that he could spy on her. She'd lost almost everything she owned, as had her neighbours. He'd also tried to kill Clark, of that she was very sure.
And those were only the things which affected her personally. Add to that everything else Luthor was responsible for, and Lois wanted to see the man punished as severely as the law would allow. Although, on second thoughts, perhaps not; while New Troy had the death penalty, it seemed to her as if that would be letting Luthor escape easily. He needed to rot in jail for as many years as possible.
Just sitting there in his lonely cell, remembering everything he'd once had and lost. Reading newspapers and letters about how much he was hated. How evil he was. What a waste of good human DNA he was.
When the knock sounded at last, she beat Clark to it, yanking the door open. "Where have you - " She broke off, staring at their visitor. It was Henderson, but his appearance was completely unlike any way she'd seen him look before. Instead of the shiny and slightly ill-fitting business suits, he wore shabby, ripped jeans, a hooded sweatshirt and a baseball cap pulled low over his face.
Henderson glanced at his watch. "It's exactly nine and a half minutes since I hung up the phone with you, Lane. So don't start."
She ignored his comment. "What's with the grunge?"
"It's called being undercover, Lane. You might have heard of it." Stepping inside, he pushed the door closed.
"Coffee, Inspector?" Clark offered.
"Great. Black and as strong as you can make it."
"Coming right up."
"So, what's so urgent that you got me over here at after midnight?"
Lois led the way back to the kitchen table. "You wanted hard evidence; we've got it."
"Oh yeah? And should I anticipate breaking and entering charges?"
"I doubt it," Clark said with a grin. "We went undercover at the Metro Club. So we were there legitimately enough - as paid employees."
Henderson shook his head, groaning fatalistically. " I guess you gave fake names?"
"No, we told them we're Lois Lane and Clark Kent," Lois drawled. "What do you think?"
"I'm thinking obtaining employment under false pretences, using fraudulent insurance numbers - or else failing to declare income for tax purposes... need I go on?"
"Only if you don't want to know what we found out," Lois countered.
Clark brought coffee-mugs to the table. "I would guess that Charlie King's already been fired, and I didn't get paid, so if you want to arrest me, Inspector, I'm not sure what you could charge me with." He grinned, taking a seat.
"I'm off-duty anyway," Henderson commented, reaching for his coffee. "This isn't bad, Kent! I've been up since five this morning, so I need it."
"This is worth it," Clark said, then began to explain what had happened, glossing over how it was that he'd been able to hear conversations and gain access to Toni Taylor's office. Henderson listened intently, but didn't comment.
And then Lois pushed the contract across the table. The cop took it and read it quickly; then read it again slowly, and again a third time, even more slowly.
"Did either of you touch this, Clark?" he asked urgently.
Clark shook his head. "I used my bartender apron like a glove to pick it up, and once I realised what it was I got that wallet to put it in."
"Good. I'll have it tested for prints as soon as I leave here. The lawyers will try to argue that the signature's forged, so I'll have handwriting analysis done too. This is a damn good start."
"We want a copy, Henderson," Lois warned. There was no way that she was agreeing to let their principal evidence out of their sight without guarantees.
"And you're telling me that you haven't already taken photocopies?" Henderson demanded, amazed.
Clark gave a faint shrug. "The Planet could well be compromised. We already found spy software on the computer Lois was using earlier and a bug in her phone. And it's my guess that every workstation in the bullpen is bugged."
Henderson emitted a low whistle. "Did you disable them?"
"No - I thought it was best not to tip Luthor off that we know what he's up to."
"Good. What about this place? Did you check it out like I told you?"
"Superman took a look about half an hour ago. It's clean."
Henderson raised an eyebrow to his hairline. "You got Superman to sweep your apartment for bugs?"
"Why not?" Lois said. "He's a friend of ours. And he wants Luthor put away as badly as we do. Like Clark said earlier, he'd be willing to sign an affidavit saying what he told us Luthor said to him."
"Yeah, so if you need that, just let me know and I'll ask him to contact you," Clark added.
Henderson rolled up the contract and stuffed it inside his sweatshirt. "I'll get a copy of this to you by morning."
"Thanks," Clark said. "Oh, and one other thing - I just remembered. I overheard Luthor and Toni Taylor talking about an old jeans factory on March and Fremont - I think that's another target for the Toasters. I got the impression they were talking about arranging a fire there for tomorrow."
Henderson rolled his eyes, his expression long-suffering. "You’d think having half of the West River area already fire-damaged or blighted would be enough for the guy, wouldn't you? Okay, I'll make sure that the appropriate people are tipped off. That's one we should be able to prevent." He took another long gulp of coffee. "Don't call me at the precinct about any of this - as you might have guessed, I think we have a leak there."
"Hence the disguise," Clark commented.
"Exactly." Henderson pushed back his chair and stood. "I'd dearly love to get Luthor for major fraud or even murder, but having hard evidence that he's paying gangsters to burn down parts of the city is a pretty good second-best. Thanks."
"Not to mention reckless disregard for the lives of people who live in the parts of the city he's having burned down," Clark added dryly. "Superman told us that one man almost died in the latest fire."
"I heard about that. And arresting these so-called Toasters is also pretty near the top of my priority list." Henderson headed towards the door. "There goes another night's sleep," he commented sardonically.
"Sleep's over-rated anyway," Lois told him.
**********
For once, the view of the city at night afforded him no pleasure at all, Lex Luthor noted with irritated detachment. He stubbed out his half-finished cigar in a Wedgwood trinket-bowl and strode impatiently to his desk. Jabbing at the intercom, he rapped out an order.
Mere seconds later, Nigel St John entered the room. "Good evening, sir."
"Is it?"
"Something amiss, sir?" Nigel's tone was annoyingly soothing. Lex suppressed a further rush of irritation. Nigel had failed miserably so far - the man should be grovelling abjectly. His henchman-in-chief would have one more chance - tomorrow, when he was supposed to deal with Kent. If he failed again, he would have to be dealt with. Lex Luthor did not employ passengers.
"The Lane woman is even more of a nuisance than I believed, Nigel."
"Yes?"
"She was there tonight. In the club. Apparently masquerading as a dancer," Lex said with a contemptuous curl of his lip.
"Moonlighting, sir?"
"You know better than that, Nigel."
"How much do you think she knows?" his assistant asked, sounding as unperturbed as usual.
"I'm not sure, and that is what is most frustrating. She was suspicious of my presence; while I gave her a plausible explanation, I'm not convinced that she believed it. She is certainly aware of the club's connection with the criminal element - that appears to be why she was there."
"What do you wish done about the situation?" Judging by his tone, Nigel could have been discussing the presence of an annoying bug in the room.
"I'm not sure yet."
And Lex wasn't happy about that. He was rarely uncertain about anything, and that was what made the Lane woman's interference so infuriating. It would, of course, be simple to have her removed entirely from the situation. All he needed to do was give a simple instruction to Nigel and it would be taken care of. At least, that was what should happen; of course, Nigel had failed spectacularly with Kent earlier that day, and so far there had been no report of any success with the attempts to find out just what Lane was up to.
Removing her from the situation would solve one problem, but it could lead to additional problems. And that was why he was hesitating. What if she had told others about what she was working on and what her suspicions were? He already knew that she and that tiresome partner of hers had been to see Inspector William Henderson of the MPD; his source at the precinct had informed him of that within minutes of Lane's arrival. But his source had been unable to offer any report of what had been discussed - useless fool.
Lex strode to the window again, gazing out without seeing anything while he considered his options. Then he swung back to Nigel.
"Nothing, for now. I want to know how much she knows first, and who she might have talked to. And then... then I may well wish her to be disposed of."
"As you wish, sir." And Nigel left the room as silently as he'd entered it.
**********
"Filthy, stinking alien!"
He flinched again, even though the blows which landed on his body didn't hurt. The words caused agonising pain.
"How dare you masquerade as a human being? What arrogance, to pretend that you're a normal man! What gave you the right to mutate yourself into a man's body? What do you really look like, alien?"
Helpless, silenced by the viciousness of the words, the hatred in the tone, Clark could only shake his head.
"And how many humans have you brainwashed? Subverted to your will? Like these two here!" Trask pointed to his parents. "Unless, of course, they're not brainwashed at all. Maybe they're aliens like you. Maybe they've mutated too."
"No!" Clark yelled. "They're nothing like me. They're the kindest, most loving human beings I have ever met. They don't deserve to be here. Let them go!"
"Protecting them, alien? Why would you protect an alien species? Members of the species you came to destroy? Maybe they are alien too. Cut him, Harris!"
And he watched helplessly as one of Trask's minions sliced a cut in his father's arm. Blood flowed freely, dripping onto the floor, as Jonathan Kent kept his head held high and showed no reaction. But the set of his jaw showed Clark how much that stoic response was costing his father.
If he could only move... if he could only get to them... But Trask's minions had a gun to his mom's head. He was fast, but at that distance a bullet was faster. His mom, the woman he loved more than his own life, would be dead before he was even halfway across the room.
"Alien!" The word resounded again. He didn’t know whether Trask said it or if it was just in his head.
"So they are human. You took over their minds, then. You sucked away their human spirit and independence and made them subject to you. They are obviously your creatures - why else would they shelter you? They're no better than zombies." Trask turned to his parents. " When you're no longer necessary to control him, I will kill you. I'll be doing you a favour, setting you free from the alien's control."
"He isn't controlling us!" His mother's angry shout tore through him. It was all his fault that his parents were here, were enduring this torture...
"No? Then why else would you shelter him? Why take an alien into your own home? Why did you ever lay a finger on the filthy alien? I saw you hug him. Don't you know that he could snap you in two between his little fingers?"
"He'd never hurt us!" Martha Kent retorted.
"Just because he hasn't doesn't mean he wouldn't. You've seen what he can do. Superman!" The word was uttered with utmost disgust. "He can lift a space shuttle with his bare hands. He can twist steel. There's no object in existence that he can't break into any number of tiny pieces. You think a human body is any exception? If I wasn't having you held at gunpoint, he'd have torn me into shreds long ago."
"No!" Clark yelled his revulsion. "No matter how much I hate what you're doing to my parents, that's not how I work! I would never use my strength to hurt someone!"
"No? You couldn’t help yourself, alien," Trask taunted. "I bet you don’t even know your own strength. You could break this table you're lying on with your little finger. How do you know you've never hurt anyone? You shake hands with someone one day in your masquerade as a human - how do you know you don't leave them with bruises? You dare to coil your arms around these people you call your parents - how do you know you've never injured them?"
"Don’t listen to him, Clark!" his father yelled. "You know it's not true."
"Silence, alien-lover!" There was a thump. His father had been pistol-whipped again. His mother cried.
Clark flinched and cringed back on the gurney. He couldn't move. They'd hurt his parents again. Guilt was coursing through him. If it wasn't for him, his parents wouldn't even be there. If they hadn't taken him in as a baby, this would never have happened to them. Inside, he felt sick and dizzy, sensations he'd never experienced before. They were hurting his parents, all because of him. Because he wasn't human, and people like Jason Trask didn't like that.
Somehow, he had to stop it. But he couldn't seem to figure out how.
"No, don't hurt them!" Clark whimpered. "Please, don't hurt them!"
"Then tell me what I need to know!"
"What can I tell you?"
"Where are you from? Where's the rest of your kind? Where will the invasion take place? What's the primary target? How can you be stopped?"
"You're wrong!" Clark protested.
"Liar!" His father was hit again at Trask's response. The resulting grunt of pain reverberated inside Clark's head.
Clark shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "There is... no invasion," he said wearily. "I'm the only one. And I can't tell you where I'm from, because I
don't know!"
"Liar!" Trask repeated. This time his mother was slapped across the face.
"Don't hurt her!" Clark almost reared up off the table, but Trask's upraised hand, prepared to give the signal to shoot, stopped him. "Please, don’t hurt her..."
"Clark? Clark!"
"Please stop. Please don't hurt her!"
Hands gripped him, shaking him.
"Please! Yes, I'm an alien! But I'm not a threat!"
"Clark!" The hands shook him some more. "Clark!"
He seized his captor, gripping the man's upper arms and pushing back. "Leave me alone!"
"You’re having a bad dream, Clark." Suddenly, the voice was soothing, and he recognised it as female. "It's okay. No-one's trying to hurt you. Come on, wake up."
He was dreaming. Again. But it was only a dream. Trask was dead, and his parents were safe.
Sobbing with relief, he collapsed into the waiting, welcoming arms.
**********
...tbc
