Table of Contents
From Part 14:“We’ve been assuming that Griffin means Kyle Griffin,” Clark said, leaning against the desk. His hand reached for hers, and she folded her fingers around it. He hadn’t even looked at her. Had he even been aware that he’d done it?
“Yeah?” An arrested look came over Henderson’s face. “Someone else?”
“Maybe. After all, you said it couldn’t be Kyle. But what if it was - ”
And, in that precise moment, she saw the answer too. “His father!”
“The toy guy?” Henderson looked faintly sceptical, but then he nodded. “I’ll check him out. See if it fits.”
“Kyle’s father.” The words came out softly. “For revenge?”
Clark shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t even know the guy, remember. But it’s worth checking.”
It was. It was as least as good as any other idea they’d had that day.
**********
Now read on...How long was Henderson going to be? Hell, he should have offered to check the guy out himself. They’d spent far too much time today simply waiting...
And waiting gave them far too much time to think.
About what might be. And what might never be. And all the things left unsaid.
Dammit, Lois had even started writing some idiotic will-type document!
She was right, though.
With his free hand, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. She was right. There was every chance that she wouldn’t survive. And she had to plan for that.
They had to plan for that. Prepare for what was going to happen. He had to try to come to terms, somehow, with the fact that he was going to lose her.
How did anyone come to terms with something like that? How did people whose loved ones were terminally ill resign themselves to the knowledge that they would
die? That one day, soon, they would no longer be there? Gone, just... absent, not there any more, as if they’d never existed?
How long would it take for him to forget what her voice sounded like? Or how it had felt to hold her in his arms? The way her hair swished around her when she turned her head?
Oh god...Planning. Coming to terms with losing her. He had to...
If he was going to tell her everything that he wanted to tell her, before... then he needed to do it pretty damned soon.
Maybe, in fact, during one of these waiting times...
His hand tightened around hers, and she looked at him questioningly.
“Lois?”
The door opened abruptly. “I think you’re right, Clark.”
Henderson. And just when he actually
wanted the waiting time. “It’s him?”
“It’s a distinct possibility. He doesn’t have a record or anything. But the guy I had checking him out found that for a few months earlier this year he shared his business premises with a chemistry researcher. Who was doing a thesis on the effect of drugs on the nervous system. And his warehouse is less than half a mile from that mall Lois got the phone call from earlier.” He indicated a sheet of computer printout in his hand.
“Bingo,” Clark said softly. He felt Lois’s fingers tighten around his, and heard her sharp intake of breath.
“That was quick - your guy must be even better than Jimmy,” she said, a touch of admiration in her voice.
Henderson grinned. “I told you we have sources you can’t access.” Indicating a sheet of computer printout in his hand, he added, “Okay, so I’m going to get a search warrant and then I’ll get a team together to get over there - ”
That would take far too long. “We don’t need a team. Or a search warrant.” Clark stood, releasing Lois’s hand. “Come on.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Come,” he repeated, more urgently this time. Then he hesitated. “I imagine it’s pointless asking you to wait here, Lois?”
“You bet anything you like it is!” she exclaimed. “I don’t care if all I can do is lean against a wall - I’m not missing this!”
“Look, I don’t know - ” Henderson began, but Clark caught hold of his arm.
“Don’t argue. Just come with me.”
Pausing only to catch Lois by the hand, he hurried the two of them out of the conference room and over to the stairwell. Once inside, he scooped Lois into his arms and dashed up the stairs, hearing Henderson running up behind them. On the roof, he lowered Lois to the ground and set himself in motion. When he stopped again, he noticed Henderson’s expression. It was the first time he’d ever seen that man look stupefied.
Good. At least it meant there’d be no more arguments. He caught Lois up in his arms again, holding her against him with one arm, and then, with his free hand, caught Bill Henderson around the waist. They were airborne before the detective could protest.
***********
It was dark when Clark set them down in an alley behind a small warehouse building. In the light shed by a nearby street-lamp, Bill Henderson was looking slightly green. Lois stifled a giggle.
“What?” Clark looked at her, frowning.
“I guess Henderson’s never been flying with you before.”
“Shut up, Lane,” the inspector muttered, turning away.
“Sorry, Bill.” Clark gripped the other man by his arm. “We really did need to get here quickly.”
“Well, now that we’re here, what do you propose?” The sardonic drawl was back. Obviously Super-flight-sickness didn’t last very long.
“We get inside. See what we can find.” Clark got in before she could, and even sounded impatient. The answer was obvious.
Henderson rolled his eyes. “Do you two know the first thing about the law? Or proper police procedure? I can’t go in there without a search warrant.”
“Fine. We’ll just go in on our own.” Why had Clark bothered to bring him, anyway?
“And what good will that do?” Henderson seemed angry. Not that it mattered. This was a pointless argument. Why were they even wasting time on it?
She took a step towards the warehouse, Clark behind her.
“You’re wasting your time,” Henderson said. “Anything you find won’t be admissible in court because you haven’t got a
warrant.”
Clark whirled, his cape swinging behind him. “You think I care about a trial right now? You think that’s why I brought you? Lois has
six hours, Inspector. We’re here because it’s the only real lead we’ve had all day and there’s just a chance we might be able to find out what he poisoned her with. Now, you can stay out here and worry about warrants all you like - but I’m going inside.”
“Me too.” Tossing her head, she took another step... and the dizziness was back. There was buzzing in her head. Everything was blurry... she was hot, so hot...
“Easy, Lois.” Hands were on her shoulders, steadying her. “Take it easy. Deep breaths.” The voice wasn’t Clark’s. The hands weren’t, either.
And then Clark was in front of her, one arm around her waist, holding her to him, his other hand cupping her face. The pain in his voice cut through her. “Lois? I shouldn’t have brought you... I’ll find somewhere for you to sit down...”
She blinked, and her head cleared. The deep breaths she’d taken helped the dizziness. “I’m fine now.”
The hands on her shoulders lifted. It had been Henderson who’d caught her. She turned to look at him. “Thanks, Bill.” She wasn’t able to keep the surprise out of her voice.
“Couldn’t have you falling at my feet - it wouldn’t do either of our reputations any good.” He spoke in the sardonic drawl which was so familiar to her, but the concern in his eyes took her aback.
“Lois.” It was Clark, his voice tender but with an edge of frantic worry that almost made her want to weep. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. These spells come and go.” More frequently now, of course, but she wasn’t telling him that. He was anxious enough as it was. Though he’d probably already noticed it for himself. “At least the drugs are helping.”
“If we’re breaking in, then, let’s get on with it,” Henderson said, striding ahead and towards the warehouse entrance. She shook her head; he was one man she’d probably never completely figure out. And yet unpredictable seemed to work for him.
The warehouse was locked. And yet the door opened easily under Clark’s hand. Clark’s
Super hand, of course. He hadn’t changed from the Suit. That was a bit strange - Superman breaking and entering? Maybe he’d forgotten. Should she remind him?
But then they were inside and, once Clark had snapped on the lights, looking around. It seemed to be a toymaker’s factory, all right, with unfinished games, models and figurines lying around, and tools and parts everywhere, some stacked neatly on shelves and benches, and others scattered on tables. There were filing cabinets. Good. That was always her first choice for snooping.
Only right now she wasn’t so sure she could make it over there.
“Bingo!”
Clark, who’d moved quickly around the interior, searching for things only he could see, had stopped and was staring at something. She began to move, to go to him, but her first step was wobbly.
A hand gripped her arm. “Lean on me.”
“You’re getting soft in your old age, Bill.” She did need his support, though. Feeling this weak all the time was soul-destroying. Why had Clark even brought her? She was useless.
Henderson ignored her comment. “What’ve you got, Superman?”
Superman. Okay. Yes. Clark had to be called Superman when he was in the Suit, didn’t he? Even if there was no-one else around.
SuperClark. Clarkman. She giggled.
“Lois, are you sure you’re okay?”
No, he was definitely Clark. Even in that red and blue thing he was wearing. Only Clark looked at her with that half-worried, half-impatient expression.
“’m fine. What’ve -ou found?” Oh, great. Now she was slurring her words on top of everything else.
He looked at her again, apparently torn. She made an impatient gesture with her free hand.
“Photos.” He indicated with his hand. “See what you think.”
She and Henderson came close, and miraculously the haze in her brain cleared again. There were lots of photographs - five by sevens, and all of scenes she recognised.
Outside her apartment. The ER - outside and in. The Daily Planet. Even Suicide Slum.
And she was in every one of them.
On a gurney, being wheeled down the steps of her apartment building. Being put into the ambulance, Clark standing to the side, looking frantic. Clark sitting in the ER, head in his hands, his hair standing on end. Dr Sutton talking to Clark. The two of them getting out of a taxi outside her apartment. And many more.
She shivered. “I feel dirty.”
Clark’s gaze rested on her. “Yeah. Me too.” He looked away then, but not before she caught sight of something in his eyes. There was obviously something he wasn’t saying.
“What is it, Clark?”
His fists clenched. She reached out and touched his arm. The Spandex under her fingers felt so different from the fabric of his work suit.
“I should have seen him.” Raw anger in his voice, and all directed at himself. “This bastard’s been following us around *all day*. I should have seen him!”
“Telephoto lens.” Henderson was bending over the photos. “He could have been hidden a couple of hundred feet away.”
“I still should have seen him! Heard the shutter closing... something!”
“You were focused on me.” It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t do everything, and he’d had to give so much concentration to looking after her. “Anyway, what matters is that we’ve found him.”
“Yeah.” Henderson already had his cellphone out. “I’ll get some backup over here, and see what the boys in the precinct can do about getting a warrant. Better at least try to get the paperwork straight.”
They’d found him.
She leaned back against the table, seeking support from its solidity.
Edwin Griffin. Kyle Griffin’s father. Indulging in revenge for what she’d done to his son? It had to be that; she’d never had any dealings with Griffin Senior. Strange that he’d waited so long to come after her, but after her five years in the news reporting business she’d learned not to question the vagaries of human nature. People were just strange. It was that simple.
“We just need to find some clue as to what he used on you,” Clark was saying. “There has to be
something...”
“Well, well. If it isn’t Ms Lane and friends.”
She hadn’t heard the door opening. Whirling around, she saw a man standing there, illuminated by the street light behind. A man of at least sixty, with a shock of white hair, receding at the front, and a bushy white moustache, and wearing wire-rimmed glasses and an old cardigan. He looked like somebody’s grandfather.
This was the cunning, diabolical fiend who had plotted the most macabre attempt on her life ever? This old man?
“Edwin Griffin, I presume.” Clark’s voice was cold, harsher than she’d ever heard him speak before, as Clark or as Superman.
Not that she could blame him. If she were capable of speech right now, instead of near-silenced by shock and beginning to shake again...
But this was good. Not only did she know for a fact
who had done this to her - and been able to look him in the eye - but now they’d finally find out what he’d given her.
As long as it wasn’t too late for the effects to be reversed... as long as it was still soon enough to save her life...
“You’re an even better investigator than I thought, Ms Lane.” Griffin strolled into the warehouse. “How did you figure it out? I didn’t think I’d left any clues. Though I suppose it was Superman, not you.”
“Teamwork, Mr Griffin.” Suddenly, Clark was standing behind the toymaker, holding his arms securely.
Henderson walked over, holding out his badge. “You’re under arrest. For attempted murder, to start with. You’ll have your rights read as soon as my other officers get here. For now, just start talking and
maybe the charge won’t be first-degree murder.”
Griffin laughed aloud. “You think it’s going to be that easy? That I’ll just tell you what she’s got inside her?”
“You’d better, if you know what’s good for you.” By the way Griffin’s body jerked, it was obvious that Clark had tightened his grip on the man as he spoke.
“Like I said,” Henderson drawled, “if you tell us and Ms Lane lives, the charge is just attempted murder, you get to plead good behaviour in court and you get a few years. If you don’t co-operate and Ms Lane dies, it’s a murder rap and you’re facing the electric chair.”
“At my age?” Griffin seemed only amused. “What’s a few years either way? Nah. I’d rather die knowing that reporter-bitch is safely six feet under.”
Chill was seeping through Lois. She felt herself trembling and had to grip the work-bench behind her for support.
Griffin wasn’t going to tell them.
All day, she’d been pinning her hopes on being able to find out who her attacker was, so they could make him tell them what the poison was. They’d found the attacker... and he was refusing to talk.
Clark was holding him suspended off the floor now, arms pinned behind his back. Henderson was reminding him again of the difference in penalties between murder and attempted murder. It didn’t seem to be making any difference.
They’d found the man who wanted her dead... and she was still going to die.
It was just not fair. It was
so unfair!
“What was it?” she shouted. “You bastard, what did you give me?”
Anger wouldn’t work. Even as she said it, she was kicking herself for giving away how she was feeling. And the self-satisfied grin on Griffin’s face showed her, as if she needed to have it rubbed in, just how stupid yelling at him had been.
But there might be another way...
She gripped the bench more tightly. The last thing right now she wanted was to crumple in an undignified heap to the floor.
“You’ve had your fun. You’ve baffled doctors and scientists across Metropolis. You’ve won. I’m dying.” Maybe, if she bluffed a little, it might work... though, god knew, it wasn’t really a bluff. “It’s already too late. You should know that. There’s less than six hours left. You have to know that it’s already irreversible. Even if we know what it is, it’s too late for an antidote to do its job. You’ve won. So why not show us how clever you are?”
Griffin laughed again. And then a gunshot rang out.
*********
...tbc
