Twins: 17/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
"Superman said that he thinks he knows where it's kept," Clark told his partner some half an hour later. He was standing by Lois's desk in the Daily Planet newsroom, speaking to his partner in a low tone of voice so as not to be overheard. "There's a small vault in the room where Brian has been sleeping, that's been rigged for sub-zero refrigeration. It's lead-lined, too, so it looks like he wanted to be sure Superman wasn't going to get a look at its contents."
"And, of course, he knows Superman isn't going to break and enter," Lois said. "Only this time, I think he will."
"Well, maybe not break, but certainly enter," Clark said. "That lock of hair has to be destroyed, so it looks like Superman has no alternative this time."
"Besides," Lois said, as if it clinched the matter, "the hair isn't his, either. He stole it."
"Good point. Did you look at my Luthor collection?"
Lois nodded. "Yes. Besides Leek's tapes, the rest of it is about the same as mine. Lots of circumstantial evidence, but nothing that ties him directly to anything criminal. I wonder if Superman's testimony about the time Luthor threatened him would hold up in court?"
"Superman says not. He never actually came right out and said he was responsible. He just inferred it."
"Naturally," Lois said. "Besides, it would just be a case of he said -- he said."
"Exactly. He's not going to commit himself in front of witnesses."
"I guess Leek is our only hope," Lois said. "I hope he has the good sense to stay in Lex's good graces until we can tie everything together."
"Yeah," Clark said. "So do I."
And now, Part 17:
Jimmy was sitting at his desk studying his computer screen. Every now and then he shifted uncomfortably and rubbed some part or other of his anatomy. Judging from his cautious movements, Clark thought, he had acquired some bruises and sore muscles from the accident. As he watched, Jimmy straightened up in his chair with a slight wince. Ralph gave him a sour look.
"Sore, Olsen?" he asked.
"Yeah." Jimmy didn't look at his co-worker.
"Next time don't stop your car so suddenly," Ralph said with a trace of sarcasm.
"I didn't!" Jimmy said. "You slammed into me! If you hadn't been driving like a maniac you wouldn't have hit me!"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ralph asked, bristling slightly.
Jimmy got painfully to his feet and faced his co-worker. "It means exactly what it sounds like. You hit *me* Ralph. If you hadn't been going so fast you'd have had time to stop."
"All right, break it up." Perry White was standing a few feet away, although Clark hadn't seen him approach, as his attention had been focused on the combatants. "Ralph, where's that piece you promised me on last night's city council meeting?"
"Uhh ... I haven't had time today, Chief, what with the accident."
"Then why in Elvis's name are you over here pickin' fights with Olsen? I want that article on my desk in half an hour!"
Ralph turned without a word and headed for his desk. Perry turned to Jimmy. "You okay, son?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Jimmy said. "Sorry, Chief."
Perry didn't answer. "Better get back on that research for Lois that you said you had to do. Remember what I told you. No dashing around today. Stick to your computer."
"Yes sir," Jimmy said.
Perry nodded. He glanced around. "We've got a deadline, people! Get a move on! I have to have time to edit these things before they go to press. Eduardo! Where's that piece on the Cost Mart protest?"
Clark glanced at Lois with raised eyebrows.
"Tell you later," she said softly. "Jimmy! How's that research going?"
Jimmy had taken his seat again. Now he swiveled the chair around so he could look at her without turning his head. "I'm working on it," he reported. "I've found the names of the different companies' advertising heads. It's taking some time, but I can give you the financial info on the first couple of names. Their companies were the first to drop us. Look." He swiveled back and pointed to his monitor.
Lois bent over his shoulder. "That's interesting."
"Isn't it?" Jimmy said. "Both of them with a sudden influx of cash in their checking accounts, starting two months ago. Nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars for the month, and the same amount last month and this one. Just under the amount the bank has to report to the Feds. Also, both of them bought insurance for a brand new Porsche last month. Coincidence?"
"I doubt it," Lois said. "Keep plugging, Jimmy. I think we're onto something here."
"Yeah, I think I'm seeing the pattern," Jimmy said, with unusual cynicism. "Maybe this will make the Chief feel better. I'm really worried about him."
"Why?" Clark asked.
"Haven't you seen the way he's been acting the last few days, CK? Something's wrong. I just know it."
"Well, we'll let him in on what you've found. Maybe that will help," Clark said. "Keep at it."
Jimmy nodded. "The Chief told me I could stay as long as I don't do any running around," he admitted. "I'm sort of grounded, but I can't afford to miss work, so I guess I've got the time. By the way," he added, "thanks for standing up for me this morning, Lois."
"I just told the police what I saw," Lois said.
"Yeah, but my insurance company would probably have cancelled my insurance if they'd believed Ralph," Jimmy said. "I owe you one."
**********
"Lois, my dear, you look lovely as always." Lex Luthor was, of course, waiting for her as she stepped off the elevator that had brought her to his penthouse. Nigel St. John let her disembark first and then made his way down the thickly carpeted hallway to disappear through a door near the end. Lex, meanwhile, stepped forward and lifted her hand to his lips. Ever since the pheromone episode several months ago, he had conducted himself with a rather possessive air whenever she was in his presence. The attitude, however, gave her an entirely different sensation than when Clark had done it the night before. The feeling of being a highly desired object wasn't in the least flattering or even pleasant. She had a part to play, however, and she smiled warmly at him, reminding herself that the key to a convincing performance was to put oneself into the part wholeheartedly.
So she allowed him to draw her hand into the crook of his arm and lead her into his study where dinner would be served this evening.
Soft music was playing in the background, and a table sat there, covered in white linen and set with china and crystal that probably cost a small fortune.
She accepted the martini presented to her on a tray by the turbaned Hindu servant whose name, she had learned, was Asabi and walked to the French doors to look out at the lights of the city. It was something of a ritual that she had established over the past months of dating Lex. He, of course, accompanied her.
"Would you like to step out on the balcony, my dear?" he asked.
She nodded. "The sky is so clear tonight, I'd like to enjoy the view for a few minutes," she said.
Smiling at the implied compliment to his home, Lex opened the French windows and let her precede him out onto the balcony.
The sky tonight was still and very clear, and there was a distinct chill to the air. Lois had not removed her coat, and she leaned on the stone wall of the balcony in silence, sipping the martini and trying not to swallow the wad of gum that she concealed in one cheek. Lex also leaned on the wall at her side, smiling down at her indulgently.
At last, Lois glanced at him with a little smile. "It's so beautiful from up here," she said. "It's nice to take a little time to unwind from work, I suppose."
"I imagine that the life of an investigative reporter must be stressful," Lex said.
"I suppose it is," she said. "Still, it's the work that I love. I've wanted to be a reporter since I was in third grade. My father, of course, always wanted me to follow in his footsteps."
"He wanted you to be a doctor?" Lex said.
She nodded, turning to look out over the city again. "He told me he wouldn't pay for college unless I studied to be a doctor."
"I suppose he wanted the best for you," Lex said. "You can't blame a father for that."
"I suppose not," Lois said, "but what he didn't realize was that my idea of what was best didn't coincide with his. Instead, I applied for scholarships and worked odd jobs to finance my way through. Finally, I guess Daddy realized that I wasn't going to be a doctor no matter how hard he pushed, and he helped me through the last two years."
"I can see that not much stops you," Lex said. "But you wouldn't be the Lois Lane that I know if you weren't so independent." He glanced back at the study. "Asabi has brought the wine and the first course. Shall we go in?"
Lois smiled and turned toward the French windows that he had opened for her. This was it. She had to play this just right.
She re-entered the study ahead of him. He had just turned to close the doors when she gave an exclamation of annoyance. He glanced at her in surprise.
"Is anything wrong?"
"Oh, my antique bracelet! I think there must be something wrong with the catch. It must have fallen off on the balcony. Just a minute." She started to turn, but, as expected, he stopped her.
"Allow me," he said. He went quickly out onto the balcony and glanced around. "Ah! There it is." He bent to pick up the gold bracelet, and in the moment that he turned his back, Lois took the gum from her mouth and crammed it into the lock.
He picked up the bracelet and stepped through the doors once more. "Here you are, my dear."
"Thank you, Lex." She took the piece of jewelry and dropped it into her handbag. "I think it will be safer there for now."
"I suppose it sounds trite," Lex said, "but someone like you doesn't need jewelry to set off her beauty. And now, before I say anything more to embarrass both of us, shall we eat?"
**********
Floating directly over LexTower, and out of sight of any possible observers, Clark watched with admiration as Lois neatly sabotaged the lock to the French windows. Keeping his super hearing trained on the conversation, he knew at once when they had finally finished the meal and Luthor pushed back his chair.
"We have just enough time to make the first act," he said. "Shall we go, my dear?"
He waited while Luthor helped Lois with her coat, and followed their progress to the elevator. The Hindu servant was moving about in the room, clearing up the dishes. Clark waited impatiently. The last thing he needed was for that butler of Luthor's, Nigel St. John, to check the windows and find Lois's sabotage. At last the sounds disappeared, and Clark approached the balcony.
No matter that Luthor saw nothing wrong with spying on others, Clark had found no evidence of spy cameras in the penthouse itself. He didn't need to worry about being observed while on his mission. The French windows opened easily, and he stepped into the darkened study. Meticulously, he removed the gum so as to leave no trace of it and threw it out into the sky toward the ocean. He had no intention of leaving any evidence of Lois's sabotage to be found by Luthor's zealous servants. Then, he glanced carefully around, x-raying the immediate area beyond the study.
The place was quiet. Wherever the butler had gone, he wasn't in evidence here. Quietly and quickly, Clark opened the study doors and made his way to the room where his brother had slept every night so far of his short life.
The room was, in many ways, like an ordinary bedroom, although the place where Brian had apparently slept was a big, glass tank, somewhat like the one in Leek's laboratory. There was an armchair positioned beside it. Clark could almost visualize Luthor sitting there, reading bedtime stories to his "son". He made a face and crossed the room toward the small closet that concealed the lead-lined vault.
Footsteps coming toward him. A glance through the door showed him Nigel St. John headed directly for Brian's "nursery". Short of hiding in the closet, which probably wasn't a good idea, since he would be trapping himself, the only other way out of the room was the window. If he left, and St. John locked the window again, it would be more difficult to get back in undetected. Then the answer hit him. He unlocked the "nursery" window, assumed a mocking expression and took his position facing the door, sitting cross-legged in the air.
The door opened. Nigel St. John stepped through. He saw Clark and stopped in his tracks.
"Master Superman," he said. "You're back early. Have you completed your task?"
Clark thrust out his lower lip. "No," he said petulantly. "I haven't even seen him today, and I got bored. I want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some milk for dinner. Then, maybe I'll go back out and hunt some more -- if I feel like it."
"Your father expects you to obey him," Nigel said, a faintly menacing tone underlying the words. "He will certainly be angry if you fail."
Clark stuck out his lip farther. "I want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich first," he repeated. "And some chocolate milk. Then I'll go out again."
"And where, Master Superman, did you hear of peanut butter and jelly, not to mention chocolate milk?" Nigel asked.
"I saw children eating them at the playground," he said, a little sulkily. "It looked good."
Nigel's expression didn't change. "Very well, Master Superman. I will fetch you chocolate milk and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich," he said, in his expressionless voice. "Be so good as to wait here."
Clark turned several aerial somersaults and stopped, head down in the air. He folded his arms and tapped his foot impatiently against the ceiling. Nigel glanced at him with a trace of annoyance before he turned and went out.
Clark waited until the butler had entered the elevator on his mission to procure peanut butter and jelly, then turned back toward his goal.
The lead inner lining of the safe kept him from seeing the contents, but the alarm embedded in the casing was clear to his x-ray vision. Efficiently, Clark cut the wire with his heat vision and then placed his ear to the safe's door as he twirled the dial.
It took only seconds. The door came open, and he looked within.
A plastic display box held a lock of hair. He seized it at once, removed the hair and substituted the dark curls that Lois had cut from a cheap wig that she had once used for a disguise. A small burst of heat vision, and the hair that had been the source of so much trouble turned to ash. Before he closed the safe door, he checked the inside of the safe one last time. At the back of the cavity was an innocuous metal box that a quick examination with x-ray vision showed to be lead. His suspicions instantly aroused, he appropriated it.
His super-hearing detected the arrival of the elevator, and an instant later the footsteps of Nigel St. John, returning with his requested food. Quickly, he closed the safe, spun the dial, left the closet and returned to the outer room. Hastily, he concealed the lead box down under the cushions of the room's single armchair, and when St. John opened the door, the butler-Jack-of-all-trades found him lying on his side in mid-air, his head braced on one hand.
"Your peanut butter and jelly sandwich, sir," Nigel said, expressionlessly. "Also one glass of chocolate milk."
He levitated through the air, swooped low enough to take the plate and glass, levitated ceilingward and proceeded to munch on the sandwich with gusto, all the while sitting cross-legged on nothing. He drained the glass in four swallows, polished off the remainder of the sandwich and floated downward to return the glass to the stone-faced butler.
"Thank you very much," he said politely. "That was very good. I'll be going now."
"Be sure you do as your father told you, Master Superman," Nigel said, coldly. "And don't forget your curfew."
Clark thrust his lower lip out at the butler. "Not until you leave. I don't want you to watch me."
Nigel St. John opened his mouth as if to refuse, then his jaw snapped shut. He turned smartly and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Instantly, Clark retrieved the lead box from the chair, and zipped to the window. As he was pushing the pane upward, he heard the door open slightly and knew that the butler was checking on him. He levitated casually from the floor, and floated out the window. Slowly and lazily, he turned to his stomach, gradually assumed classic flying position, waved jauntily at the man and began to gather speed. He heard the butler's muttered, "Arrogant twit," and the decisive slam as St. John shut the "nursery" window.
**********
tbc
