Degrees of Separation: 8/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
"The forecasters are always wrong," Lois said, dismissing the weather report.
"Even a stopped clock is right twice a day," Clark reminded her.
"Clocks don't predict the weather," Lois said. "Come on. It's been at least two weeks since we had our teeth into a really juicy investigation. I want to get started. It's interesting that Jersey didn't have an address for Morris Myers in those notes of his. I wonder why."
"Good question," Clark said. "But he's most likely in Metropolis, somewhere, so we've got a good shot at finding him. I don't want to get Tanya's hopes up prematurely, though."
**********
And now, Part 8:
Lois was writing up the latest article in her series about the inner workings of the Metropolis School District. It concerned corruption, as usual, and highlighted how the money raised through a taxpayer initiative had somehow gone to decorating the office of a school district official, one Allan Packard, instead of to the classrooms of one of the inner city schools. She finished the final sentence, recommending a full investigation and internal audit of the finances of the official in question, when the phone rang.
"Hi, Lois!" the familiar voice of Bobby Bigmouth said. The words were accompanied by the indefinable sound of Bobby chewing something, which was reasonable. It seemed to Lois that Bobby's appetite, far from decreasing when he had entered his fifties, had grown. And he still didn't gain an ounce, no matter how much food he managed to put away. In spite of this, however, he remained Lois's most reliable snitch -- in a general sense, of course.
"Hi, Bobby," Lois responded. "What have you got?"
"I'm still in the process of gathering information," her snitch informed her primly. "And I need a little down payment. I got a tidbit here that might help, but a guy's gotta eat."
"I'll tell you what," Lois responded. "I'll trade you a burger and a coke for what you have, and depending on what else you bring me, we'll talk about Slippery Shrimp and Egg Foo Yung from the Sze Chuan Express -- after you deliver."
A deep sigh. "You drive a hard bargain, Lois. All right; meet me behind the Twenty-Four Hour Diner on Winslow Boulevard in forty minutes, and bring the chow. Something from that gourmet burger place you brought stuff from last week."
"Forty minutes," Lois said. "I'll be there."
Bobby hung up. Lois sent her article to Perry and got to her feet, glancing at Clark's desk. Her husband had vanished half an hour ago and shortly the report had come in of Superman breaking up a hostage situation at the Merchants Bank of Metropolis. Clark should be back soon, she thought, but she couldn't wait for him.
Unlike the Lois Lane of thirteen years ago, who wouldn't have thought to let her husband know where she was going, or why, she took fifteen seconds to leave him a note, grabbed her bag and hurried out of the newsroom to buy Bobby Bigmouth some food.
**********
Clark stepped out of the stairwell of the Daily Planet Building, into the newsroom. Lois wasn't in sight, and he couldn't detect her heartbeat anywhere in the area, so she must be out on a task of some sort. Jim Olsen, however, hailed him and Clark lengthened his stride to hurry to his colleague's desk.
Jimmy -- he still frequently thought of his coworker as Jimmy, even though Jimmy had graduated to Jim years ago -- was a successful, Kerth-winning investigative reporter and photojournalist these days, but when Lois or Clark needed something important found via computer research, they still went to Jim Olsen. Now he raised a respectful eyebrow at Clark.
"Trust you and Lois to dig up the stuff that nobody else can," he said in a low voice. "Intergang! I thought Metropolis had seen the last of them!"
"So did I," Clark said with a wry grimace. "They're like LexCorp -- more arms than an octopus. What have you got?"
"This Jersey character was a PI in Cleveland up until about three years ago," Jimmy said. "Used to do your standard stuff -- snooping on possible cheating spouses, mostly. Now and then doing an occasional missing person, kidnapping victim, et cetera. Just after the thing with Cash and Bureau 39, he moved to Metropolis."
"Interesting timing," Clark said.
"Yeah; that's what I thought. He set up shop in that office over on Knight Street -- and seemed to do pretty well for himself, even though he didn't get much business for the first few months. Actually, he still hasn't got that many clients, but he lives pretty large, from what I've managed to find out. Apparently he's fairly well known in some of the more -- shall we say -- 'borderline' businesses in town. He apparently runs up quite a tab at the -- uh -- 'massage parlors' and more exclusive 'clubs,' but pays them off in full at the end of the month."
"I gather that by 'exclusive' you don't mean the regular night clubs."
"No. Only the ones that are rumored to offer things like games of chance and 'exotic' entertainment not available in the others. As you pointed out, his investigations have led him pretty close to the legal line at times, and at least once he's dipped his toe in the water on the other side, but he always skated. I hunted up the records of his brushes with the law -- they're sealed, by the by -- and discovered that each time, his lawyer has been from the firm of Bancroft, Watts, Hilder and Lee. Sound familiar?"
"Bancroft?" Clark said slowly. "Not John Bancroft, by any chance."
"Yep."
"The John Bancroft that used to work for Intergang?" Clark said.
"Yeah, that John Bancroft," Jimmy said. "Not that we could ever prove it."
"Now that," Clark said, "is what I call verrry interesting, to quote Maxwell Smart."
"Who?"
"Never mind. Go on."
"Okay," Jim said. "Anyway, after he arrived, he started checking out Metropolis birth records -- with a particular interest in the summer of 1997 -- and a short time later was hired by Tanya Myers to find her ex-husband, Morris Myers. You need to find out how that happened, by the way. He's also apparently been tracking three women who had children within the particular time window we're talking about, and who have since moved away. I'm doing some checking into them, myself."
"What have you found?"
"Nothing much. All three of them left Metropolis within the last two or three years. One moved to the Midwest, remarried, and now works for the Indianapolis Observer. Her husband is apparently a doctor at Nowack Memorial Hospital in Indianapolis. One is an executive at an advertising firm in Milwaukee, and her son lives with her ex in Milpedas, and the third is in California, apparently working in law enforcement. I've found more information on them, if you want to look at it. Maybe Superman could fly someone out there to check on the kids and see if there's anything to worry about."
That, of course, was probably a very good idea, Clark thought, and about as direct as Jim would ever come to discussing the subject of the half-Kryptonian children in the newsroom. Give Linda Lennox a couple of minutes in the vicinity of the children in question and they would know at once whether they were part-Kryptonian or not. "I'll relay that to Superman," he said. "He'll probably take care of it right away."
Jim nodded. "As for the rest, it's pretty much what you found. He's taken a number of trips to different states -- The trips match up with the stuff in the files you gave me. Then, about six months ago, all the trips stopped, and he's stuck strictly to Metropolis. Either he knows where Myers and Benjamin are, or he knows they're in Metropolis, but it isn't in the files, and I can't find any other place to look. If you don't mind, though, I'm going to start working on the Cost Mart angle. If Intergang is trying to move back into its old territory, we need to get a jump start on the problem."
"Yeah," Clark said. "Go to it, but don't let them catch you."
"You can count on that. Here. This is everything I've found on Graham Jersey and his investigation. I hope it helps."
"Thanks," Clark said, taking the large manila envelope that Jim extended. "It certainly gives us a lot to chew on, anyway."
Jimmy snorted. "Good luck, and if you need any more help, just ask. I'll do my best."
"Yeah," Clark said. He turned his head. What was that? It was almost as if a voice had called his name, but his super hearing hadn't kicked in, and he was sure none of the kids had called him.
He wasn't usually given to imagining things, but he must have imagined this, he thought.
"Something wrong?" Jim asked.
"No, I don't --" He broke off. It was like a tickle in the back of his mind, a tickle that was almost a sound. For an instant, he thought of Lois, but a quick scan with his super-hearing told him that she wasn't in the vicinity.
Suddenly, he was aware that his heart was beginning to pound and he lifted his head, straining to hear something, though what it might be, he didn't know.
'Clark.'
He *wasn't* imagining it. But that wasn't one of the children; of that he was sure. Even Wyatt Dillon's mental voice was louder than this.
Wyatt Dillon!
The first time Wyatt had spoken to him mentally, it had been hardly louder than this faint, barely-heard call. The boy's "voice" had grown louder and stronger since, with time and practice, but this was almost like the call of a telepathic beginner.
'Clark! Help!'
"CK, what's wrong?" Jim was looking really worried.
"Did Lois say where she was going?" he asked suddenly.
"No, but I think she may have left you a note," Jim said.
Clark hurried over to his desk, barely restraining the urge to move at more than human speed and found the hastily scribbled note.
"Gone to meet Bobby. 24-Hour diner Winslow Blvd. Back soon.
Lois."
He dropped the envelope on his desk, half-ran up the steps to the elevator and yanked open the door to the stairway.
**********
Lois wrenched futilely at the cord that bound her wrists. Shoved into the trunk of a car wasn't the way she would have chosen to spend her afternoon, she thought, scraping her face along the littered surface of the trunk's floor. The gag was tight, but she succeeded in moving it a fraction of an inch. The blindfold was also slowly being dislodged as well.
The car swerved sharply around a corner and she fought to keep from being thrown heavily against one side of the cavity. A sharp object dug into her cheek.
Grimly, she again scraped her face against the floor, struggling to loosen the gag.
Bobby had slipped her a folded note, which she had shoved into her bra, which was just as well, for the first thing the hoods that accosted her on the way back to the Jeep did was to go through her purse. They hadn't found the note, but they had informed her that someone wanted to talk to her, and that was how she had wound up here.
If only she and Clark had practiced the telepathic contact this morning instead of putting it off for this afternoon, she would have been able to call her husband for help, she thought. As it was, she was going to have to at least get the gag off before she could scream for help, and then it was an open question if he would hear her. For all she knew, some emergency in Timbuktu might have drawn his notice, and he could be halfway around the world. But maybe CJ or one of the other kids would hear her.
Again, she rubbed her face against the floor of the trunk. Whatever the sharp object that had scratched her face before was, it did so again, and managed to catch on the gag. She pulled, trying to drag the gag down.
'Lois!'
For a moment, she thought she had heard Clark's voice, but how could that be? There was no one in the trunk but her -- there was no *room* for anyone but her.
'Lois!'
It *was* Clark's voice! But where *was* he?
"Ghgargh?" she mumbled, around the gag.
'Lois, *think* at me!'
How could this be happening? She had never had telepathic contact with Clark before, had she? Well, actually, there had been a few incidents that she had wondered about. Could that have been the "life bond" that the Kryptonians had spoken of in action? -- the same bond that Marta shared with little Wyatt Dillon, and that CJ had with Linda. Why had they never thought to actually try it before? Well, she knew the answer to that. Clark had learned a long time ago not to pressure her. 'Clark?'
'Keep thinking!' Clark's voice was louder, now that she was paying attention. 'Do you know where you are?'
'I'm in the trunk of a car,' Lois replied, trying to visualize his face in her mind. 'It's a black and green Chevy Malibu, maybe about seven years old. I'm being taken to see somebody that wants to talk to me.'
'Keep talking,' his voice in her head told her. 'I'm getting direction from your mind. Did Bobby have anything to do with this?'
'I don't think so. I think they just seized the opportunity.'
'I see you,' Clark said. 'I'm following you. Don't do anything to upset those thugs, honey. Let's see where they take you.'
Lois relaxed as well as she could in the cramped space. It was amazing how quickly her fright had receded as soon as she knew that Clark was on the job. Whoever Mr. X was, he didn't know what he was getting himself into.
'You're headed into a warehouse,' Clark's voice told her.
'A warehouse?' Lois sounded resigned, even to herself. 'What is it with me and warehouses?'
Through the sense of concern that she could feel in his mind, there was the impression of a grin. 'Brace yourself. They're slowing down.'
'I can tell that,' she responded. 'What time is it?'
'*Time?*' Clark's mental voice sounded startled. 'It's about three. Why?'
'School will be out at three,' Lois responded. 'I hope the kids don't have any trouble with Susie and her buddies on the way home.'
'If they do, they'll handle it,' Clark responded. 'Okay; you're inside.'
The car was pulling to a stop. Lois lay still, waiting.
**********
Clark hovered overhead, watching the scene with his X-ray vision and listening in with his enhanced hearing. The two thugs got out of the car and went around to the trunk to open it.
'They're coming to get you out,' he said. 'Don't give them any trouble. There's someone coming in the back door of the place right now.'
'Who is it?" his wife's mental voice asked. It amazed him somewhere under the surface of his attention to what was happening in the warehouse beneath him, that Lois was taking this whole mental communication thing so calmly. Maybe it was because she had seen it in CJ and Marta, and knew, on some level, that her link with him could allow her to do the same thing, once she overcame her nervousness about it. It was as if some barrier had been surmounted this morning when she had made up her mind to try to make their link function as it should.
'I'm looking,' he said. 'There are two men with him...well, well, well. One of the gentlemen with this person that I assume to be Mr. Big is Allan Packard, himself.'
'Who -- *Allan Packard?* That guy I just wrote the article on?"
"None other. I've seen Mr. Big before, too, somewhere." Clark narrowed his eyes, studying the face of the man who apparently had orchestrated this abduction of his wife. 'Ah, I have it. Henry Carruthers, no less.'
'*Henry Carruthers?*'
'In the flesh.'
'Oh, this is just too good,' Lois's mental voice said. 'Another Intergang connection.'
'Maybe,' Clark said. 'It's an interesting coincidence, anyway. Is it just me, or does it seem that Intergang is getting awfully active, suddenly?'
Eight years ago, when their investigation had brought down Intergang, Henry Carruthers had been closely linked with Mindy Church, although he had denied any knowledge of her criminal activities and no proof to the contrary had ever emerged. He'd become a City Councilman over the next few years, and run for Mayor against William Henderson in the last election. He'd been soundly trounced, although the man had employed every dirty political trick in the book. Henderson, and they, had suspected for years that Carruthers was more than he let on, and now it looked as if their suspicions might be one step closer to being confirmed.
The two goons were hauling Lois out of the trunk now. Lois cooperated just enough that they didn't need to get rough. Meekness was not in character for her, Clark knew, and silently applauded his wife for her acting skills.
Carruthers and his two sidekicks had arrived by this time and were standing quietly, watching the proceedings.
"Tighten the blindfold," Carruthers directed tersely. "It's loose."
One of the pieces of muscle obeyed. Lois stood still, allowing the man to tighten the cloth. When the deed had been accomplished, he nodded. "Now you may remove the gag."
The other thug removed the gag. Lois spit out the wad of cloth that had been in her mouth.
"Well, Ms. Lane," Carruthers said, "I was hoping not to have to get involved, but your usual predilection for sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong is becoming very annoying."
"What do you want?" Lois interrupted. "I don't do kidnapping very well."
"I imagine not," Carruthers said. "But you've become extremely inconvenient for me a number of times, and I've decided that a lesson is in order. Perhaps after you enjoy the hospitality of my bunker for a few days -- without the benefit of food or water -- I can persuade you to change your mind. I truly hope that it doesn't go beyond that, but you must bear in mind that no one knows where this place is, and it can be locked from the outside -- forever, if necessary. I have far too much invested to allow a nosy reporter to interfere any longer."
"Superman knew where I was going," Lois said.
"When you left the Daily Planet, Superman was occupied at the Twelfth Precinct, giving a statement about the bank robbery," the man said with a faint smugness to his voice. "Don't lie to me, Ms. Lane. You'll find that I plan things well ahead, and I know when someone is lying." He nodded to the hired muscle. "Take her to the bunker."
Clark watched as Lois was led toward the center of the huge structure. One man pulled up a trapdoor, and the other shoved Lois toward it.
Now, Clark decided, was the time to intervene. He dived downward.
Two seconds later, all five men were tied hand and foot with various pieces of packing material and Lois was free. Clark glanced coolly at the infuriated City Councilman. "Are you all right, Lois?"
"Yes, thank you, Superman. Do you see my purse anywhere?"
"It's in the car," he said, nodding to the vehicle that had brought her to this location. "You probably shouldn't touch it until all the formalities are dealt with. If you'll stand guard here for a few minutes, I'll bring a police officer to take care of the situation."
Lois's lips twitched. "I'm not going anywhere," she said. 'Don't take too long,' she added silently. 'I want to get home and work on this with you and the kids. This is great!'
**********
tbc
