So it *was* about Lois Lane. No surprises there. Tony would fire her immediately. But that wouldn't necessarily silence the young vigilante whose resolute manner belied his youthfulness. "Only a few weeks," Tony said. "I'm Mr Green - the owner and manager of this hotel. I am sure we can come to a mutually satisfactory agreement regarding this unfortunate situation."

"Last night, I -"

"Let's start at the beginning, shall we?" Tony said. "How do you know Ms Lane?"

"We go to college together."

"Studying what?"

"Journalism."

Journalism. Comprehension infused panic through Tony's agitated mind. The young pup was chasing a story - a story that would expose Lois Lane for the slut that she was ... but would inevitably smear disgrace on the North-Western. "I knew nothing about this objectionable situation until earlier this morning," he said, quickly constructing his defence in his mind.

"You're aware of the problem?" Russo said, looking surprised.

Tony could already imagine the headline: North-Western Brothel. His business would be ruined unless he could convince Barry Russo that Lane had acted alone. Tony took a deep breath. He had to think quickly and speak compellingly if he were to save his hotel. "You need to understand the pressures of running a successful business," he said. "There is so much that requires your attention. No one man could be expected to be able to supervise every aspect of ..."


Part 12

Lois ran her eyes over the room, checking that everything was exactly as Tony demanded in readiness for the next guests. She picked up the bucket of cleaning products and cloths and headed down the stairs. She still had four rooms to prepare, but she knew better than to make Tony Green wait.

To her surprise, when she reached his office, the door was shut. She tentatively placed her ear against it and heard Tony's voice. She caught a few words - something about how he couldn't be held responsible for the actions of his employees.

With a slight shrug, Lois figured she should take advantage of the few moments of unexpected respite.

Tony's manner had led her to suspect the worst. He was always sneaking around the hotel like a restless ghost. It was possible he had caught her coming down from the fifth floor. And if he knew she had been wandering around the hotel when she should have been cleaning, he would almost certainly fire her.

She would get another job, Lois told herself. Unemployment rates were supposed to be coming down. Being a hotel maid had never been her ambition. She was going to be a reporter. She was a reporter already. She was working on a story. Suddenly fired with purpose, she stowed the cleaning basket in the closet and went to the lobby. Carol looked up.

"I need to use the phone," Lois said firmly.

"More personal business?" Carol asked with just a hint of resentment to flavour her tone. "It's becoming a habit with you."

Lois passed the receptionist and picked up the handset. She dialled the number for the Scotsburn Convention Center.

She was a reporter. Paul was her editor. Reporters stayed in contact with their editors. She certainly wasn't calling because she doubted him. Not for one moment.

Robert James had lied before. He'd admitted he'd lied. His thinly veiled accusations were more lies.

The line connected, and a female voice said, "Scotsburn Convention Center. How may I help you?"

"Hello," Lois said. "Would it be possible to speak with Paul Bender, please?"

"The delegates have just finished the 'Writing Effective Editorials' seminar. I'll check if he's available."

"Thank you," Lois said, mildly surprised at the ease with which Paul could be summoned to the phone.

"Who should I say is calling?"

"Lois Lane. Mr Bender is my editor."

"Lois Lane?"

"Yes. That's right," Lois said, wondering at the significance the woman seemed to attach to her name.

"If Mr Bender is unavailable, should I inquire as to Linda King's availability?"

The conference must be a lot smaller than Lois had imagined if the receptionist knew the attendants by name. "No. Thank you. I need to speak with Paul." She waited as the line went quiet, sneaking a look behind her, half expecting Tony Green to come through the door like an angry bear and snatch the phone from her hand.

"Paul, here. What's up, Lois?"

The abruptness of his voice made her jump. "It ..." How much should she tell Paul? In her head, Robert James' quiet voice rose from the shadows: Are you sure about Paul Bender? Are you sure you can trust him?

Was she?

Of course, she was sure about him. She loved him.

"It's about my story, Paul," Lois said. "I think there's a lot more to it than I first realised."

"Really?" Paul said with gratifying enthusiasm. "I guess things can turn around pretty quickly, huh? Listen, Lois, I don't have long. Could you give me a brief rundown now, and I'll meet you tomorrow evening when I get back to Metropolis?"

Where should she start? Should she mention that Robert James had wanted to meet with Paul? From somewhere within came the unexpected and unfamiliar steadying hand of caution. "There's a man," she said. "I think he is hiding something."

"Why do you think that?"

It was a perfectly reasonable question, asked in a perfectly reasonable tone, but suddenly, Lois wished she were anywhere but talking to Paul. "He said he'd driven here, but he doesn't have a car," she blurted. "When I questioned him, he changed his story."

"About having driven?" Paul asked. "Or about having a car?"

"He's being very evasive. I don't know much because he refuses to give me a straight answer." There was a long silence. Much longer than Paul would usually need to process the meagre details she'd given him. Had the line died? "Paul?"

"I have to go, Lois," Paul said. He sounded distracted. As if Linda had walked into the room. "I'll call you when I get back to Metropolis. We'll get together, OK? And you can tell me everything you've got."

The sound of his voice was replaced by the beeping of a disconnected line. Lois slowly replaced the phone.

"Is everything OK?" Carol asked.

Lois nodded.

"You should get back to cleaning the rooms," Carol advised. "If Tony finds you here ..."

Lois left the lobby, her conversation with Paul whirling around her mind. She had worried that his weekend with Linda might affect his attitude to her, Lois, but he'd seemed just as encouraging and interested as usual.

Until she'd alluded to Robert James.

Of course, there were probably multiple reasons for Paul's brusqueness.

There was every chance she had misinterpreted his mood.

But Lois couldn't shake the feeling that she'd displeased Paul.

Not by her call, but by her information.

Did Paul know Robert James? Did Paul suspect Robert James was looking for him? And what was it about the mysterious woman who seemed so central to everything?

Lois's mouth dried, and her heart clanged against her ribs.

If Paul and Robert James were involved in something ... something with the woman ... potentially on different sides ... with different stories, whom could she trust?

Paul. Obviously.

Paul was a reporter. The most likely scenario was that Paul was investigating Robert James, and Robert James had come to Metropolis to silence him.

Of course, she trusted Paul. Implicitly.

He was her editor. He was the man who had captured her heart.

Robert James ... he was nothing. Less than nothing. A man who locked a woman away and used lies and salmon sandwiches to try to deflect questions about his behaviour.

Lois stopped at Tony's office, stifling the row of disturbing thoughts that wanted to take root in her mind.

She loved Paul.

Nothing - and no one - was going to cause her to doubt him.

Suddenly, Tony's voice erupted from the other side of the door, loud and angry.

Lois didn't wait. Perhaps this was her chance to keep her job. If all the rooms were clean by the time Tony had finished berating whoever happened to be unlucky enough to be in his office, maybe there was a chance she could keep her job.

Because she needed this job.

Not just for the money.

She needed to continue investigating Robert James. When Paul arrived home tomorrow, she would have information.

Information that would help them nail Robert James.

And write the story.

Together.

Lois could imagine the headline - Freedom For Hotel Captive, by Paul Bender and Lois Lane.

She was smiling as she sprinted up the stairs with the cleaning bucket.

+-+-+-+

"What?" Tony screamed. "Are you insane?"

"No, I'm concerned about the environment, and I read an article in the EPA Journal about the history of lead poisoning ..."

Tony tuned out. It had taken some time, but it had finally dawned on him that the young lout wasn't here because of Lane's consorting. However, any comfort gained from that knowledge had quickly dissolved when Tony had realised that Russo's allegations were even more farfetched.

And, in many ways, more damaging. He had a chance of evading responsibility for an out-of-control employee.

The condition of the building, though ...

Lead poisoning? It wasn't possible. It just wasn't.

But even if there was not one trace of lead in the entire North-Western Hotel, his occupancy numbers were going to be affected if this became public knowledge.

They already barely reached the level he needed to pay his staff. The bank had sent him several threatening letters.

This would be the final blow.

"This is ridiculous," Tony said, cutting across whatever point Barry Russo was trying to make. "I haven't done any renovations. Do you really think I can afford to fritter away money when I have so many other expenses? Do you know anything about running a successful business?"

"No," Russo said. "But I know about dangers in the environment. And the presence of lead -"

"Don't be stupid," Tony said. "There are no dangers in this environment. If you hadn't been filling your head with that hippy nonsense, you would be able to see that."

"You're absolutely certain no one has begun preparing walls?"

"Yes! I already told you that."

Russo shut his stupid mouth, and Tony allowed himself to hope that the young fool would apologise and fade away. At this point, he would be glad to get rid of him without the apology.

Except he was a journalist, sniffing around for a scandal he could make into a story. Proof wasn't important to his type.

"The lead must be in the water pipes," Russo said.

Tony felt the tension inside him squeeze dangerously close to breaking point. "Of course it's not the pipes," he said.

Russo leant forward across Tony's desk. "I've been watching Ms Lane," he said. "She exhibits the symptoms of lead poisoning - symptoms that have become more pronounced recently."

"This is not the only building in Metropolis that has water," Tony said sarcastically.

"A simple test will prove if Ms Lane has elevated levels of lead in her blood," Russo said with maddening calmness. "I've already tested the paint from the front of your building and proved it contains lead. The EPA will test the water. If it is shown that this building is the cause of Ms Lane's condition, you will be closed down until you have replaced the pipes and all the paintwork has been checked."

Tony had rarely felt as much like punching the dim-witted look from someone's face as he did now. But that wouldn't help. He was cornered. He needed to think clearly. He needed to decide the best way to counter this attack on the good name of his hotel. Did Lane have any idea of this? Had she alerted Russo?

"I'll call Ms Lane to my office," Tony said. "You can explain your assumption to her, and I'll decide if there is a threat to the health of my employees."

Russo's mouth opened as if he were going to continue with his preposterous argument, but it closed when Tony picked up his phone. "Carol?" he said. "Tell Lois to come to my office."

"She's cleaning the rooms on the second floor."

"I want to see her immediately."

"Yes, Mr Green."

As he hung up the phone, Tony looked at Russo and managed something that he hoped looked more like a smile than a snarl. "Don't worry," he said. "We'll have this sorted out as soon as Ms Lane gets here."

The young man subsided into his seat. "Hazardous levels of lead are very common in older buildings," he said. "I'm helping with the renovation of a community house three blocks from here. We had to take precautions."

Tony didn't care about a community house. Or the precautions. It had become obvious that mere words were not going to satisfy this intense young agitator with the scent of a story in his nostrils.

And that could only mean trouble for the North-Western.

There was no way Tony was paying for expensive new pipes. No way he was closing down his hotel - not even for one night. No way he was kowtowing to people from some flaky environmental organisation who thought they could come onto his property and make sweeping demands about what needed to be done.

He hadn't used every cent of his life-savings so someone else could tell him what to do.

Tony was the boss.

He didn't succumb to a scruffy college boy with a puffed-up view of his own importance.

Perhaps it would be possible to bribe Russo and Lane. Lane would be easy - given what he knew about her illegal activities. But Russo, that would be harder.

He glanced surreptitiously into the younger man's face. It was set with determination. He had spoken as one who was knowledgeable. And passionate. Tony had heard of young troublemakers who had no experience of the real world and nothing better to do than ferret out trouble where there was none.

The world would be a better place without them.

The thought came suddenly, illuminating a way out of this mess.

The only way out. Russo had gone too far. He knew too much. He needed to be silenced. Permanently.

Suicide Slum was just a couple of miles away. A dumped body was almost a daily occurrence there. No one would even notice.

Tony would ensure there was no way to tie it back to the North-Western.

Which left him with only one question.

What should he do with Lois Lane?

+-+-+-+

"Lois?"

At the sound of Carol's voice, Lois moved out from the bathroom she'd been cleaning. "Yes?"

"Tony wants to see you in his office."

Lois felt her stomach cave in. This was it. A solitary half-cleaned bathroom wasn't going to save her. She hadn't liked working here, and she hated all the stairs and constantly having to guard against igniting Tony's temper, but she needed this job.

"I went to his office," Lois said. "But he was busy with someone."

"He called me to say he wants you there now."

"OK." Lois picked up the cleaning basket and began the trek down the flight of stairs, feeling a strong sense of foreboding. Could this be the last time she went down these stairs? Was this the end of this part of her life?

The door to Tony's office was still closed. She dragged in a deep breath and knocked quietly.

"Come in."

Lois opened the door and gasped. "Barry," she said with a little squeak. "What are you doing here?"

"Mr Russo has alerted me to some interesting speculation," Tony cut in.

"It's more than speculation," Barry said grimly.

Lois switched her gaze from the determined face of the younger man to the reddened face of the older one. What was going on here? Had Paul extrapolated her few halting sentences to conclude she'd been talking about Robert James and had then called Barry, asking him to protect the story and keep her away from it? What 'interesting speculation' had Barry shared with Tony? And would either of them be willing to share it with her?

"Mr Russo claims you haven't been feeling well recently," Tony said in an oily voice that snaked a cold path up Lois's spine.

"I've been feeling all right," she said defensively. They weren't going to use her health to squeeze her out of whatever was happening here.

Barry jumped up from his seat and took a couple of steps in her direction. "You are always tired," he said. "You haven't been eating. You needed to buy pain pills. You said the sandwich tasted wrong. Did it taste sort of metallic?"

Lois eyed him for a long moment, trying to establish a connection between Robert James and the sandwich in Paul's office. "Yeah," she said slowly. "That's exactly how it tasted."

"Has other food tasted wrong, as well?"

The smoked salmon sandwich she'd eaten in Robert James' room had tasted more normal than anything she'd eaten in days. What was going on - Then comprehension hit her like a truck hurtling down a hill with burned-out brakes. Robert James had tried to poison her. "What's going on here?" she asked, hating that a little trickle of fear sounded in her voice.

Barry stepped closer to her, brushing a fleeting touch to her shoulder. "You're going to be all right," he said. "You haven't been here very long. We'll have you feeling better in no time."

'Feeling better' sounded great, but Lois wasn't sure she wanted either Barry or Tony involved. "Tell me what you think is wrong," she said.

"You're suffering from lead poisoning," Barry stated. "The paint here is old - it contains lead. Possibly, it's starting to break down. The pipes are probably made of lead, so it would be in the water. You would have imbibed it when you drank the water or ate the food prepared here. It's also probable you absorbed some through your skin when you cleaned."

Lead? Inside her? Poisoning her? Was it fatal? Lois's stomach heaved. Were the effects long-lasting? Was she going to feel lethargic and nauseous for weeks until the lead left her system? Would it *ever* leave her system? Was she going to require hospital treatment? "Why is it only me?" she asked, pushing away the spikes of fear that were pressing against her heart. "What about the maids who are here during the week?"

"Are they older than you?" Barry asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Then the effect on them might take longer to show up. Children are the most vulnerable."

But she wasn't a child. "Some of them have been here for months," Lois said.

"We'll get them tested, too," Barry said with a smile. "A simple blood test will tell us the level in your blood."

"What happens then?"

"We keep you away from the source." Barry looked around the once-white walls of the tiny office. "The EPA and the Health Department will test everything. Then a team of experts will come. The pipes will probably need replacing. The paint will have to be stripped away or sealed. It's possible that all the walls and ceilings will have to be safely disposed of and new ones installed."

Tony Green stood from his seat. His strangely deadpan expression drizzled apprehension down Lois's spine. "Come with me," he said. "I think you'll both be very interested in what I have to show you."

Barry smiled at her again, a little cautiously, but full of encouragement. "It's going to be all right, Lois," he said. "You'll be feeling a lot better soon. Knowing the cause of the problem is always the first step in fixing it."

Lois nodded, but his assurance didn't stop her stomach from feeling as if its contents had curdled.

Tony led the way out of his office. "How did you realise what was wrong with me?" Lois asked Barry.

"I told you about the community house for disadvantaged kids? We've been repainting. Before we started, they did tests, and as expected, the paint contained lead. An EPA officer came and talked to us about the dangers of lead poisoning."

"How does that involve me?" Lois said. "I've never been to the community house."

"I knew the symptoms to look for. You have them."

That sounded almost reasonable, although it was a greater leap of intuition than she would have expected from Barry. "How did you know I worked here?"

"I followed you after you left the drugstore last night," he said, a slightly anxious expression clouding his features. "I followed you here. Then, I waited outside and followed you home."

"That was *you*?"

"Yeah," he said with an apologetic shrug. "I was worried about you being out late by yourself. And you were walking so slowly, I was concerned you might faint or something. Once you were home safely, I came back to the hotel. I was hoping to speak to someone and ask if you'd been sick. I noticed the paint was flaking, so I took some with me. I had it tested this morning."

They had entered the stairs and were heading down to the basement. "Because you thought I had been poisoned?" Lois asked.

"Not at first," Barry admitted. "When I got home, I read the EPA Journal. There's a story in the May edition about the history of lead poisoning. I'd already read it - being interested because of the community house renovation - but I flicked over it again last night. Then, later, after I'd gone to bed, everything fell into place."

"You really think I've been feeling so bad because of lead poisoning?" Lois asked.

"I'm sure of it," Barry said. "It all fits. The lack of appetite, the nausea, the lethargy, the aches."

"But that could be something as simple as a cold," Lois said.

"A cold doesn't make food taste like metal," Barry noted.

Tony was holding open the door to the basement. He switched on a dull light, and the area filled with shadows. Barry and Lois walked in. Tony shut the door.

And locked it.

He slowly walked away from the door, each step weighed with suspense. When he turned, icy evil had disfigured his face, making him seem a stranger.

From his pocket, he took out a small revolver. "If you think I'm going to allow a pair of young meddlers to destroy everything I've worked for, you are very much mistaken," he said.

Barry slid across in front of Lois. "Don't be silly," he said. "No business is worth murder."

"She's a slut," Tony said with dripping disgust. "The autopsy will prove that. Perhaps, with their new-fangled tests, they might be able to trace back to the man in room 518 - or who knows how many other men - so there won't be any shortage of suspects."

Lois opened her mouth, but her protest rammed into the parched constriction in her throat.

Barry lifted his hand and took a step towards Tony. "Whatever she's done, you can't kill -"

"You'll tell them about the lead, won't you?" Tony said. "Which is why you have to die, too."

"This is ridiculous," Barry said. "Many old buildings have dangerously high levels of lead. You can get it fixed, and then it would be a selling point to potential guests. As the public becomes more aware of this issue, they are going to be looking for places they know are safe -"

"You think I have the money for extensive rebuilding?" Tony sneered. "You think I can afford to close down the hotel for months?"

"I don't think you have any choice," Barry said quietly.

A slow smile whittled through Tony's sour expression. "That's where you're wrong," he said. "I do have a choice. And I'm choosing to do what I need to do to protect my hotel."

"But if you kill us, it will only put off the inevitable. All your staff will start getting sick."

"Not if I fire them after a few months."

"Someone will hear the gunshot," Barry said, alarm pulsing through his tone.

"We're only a few blocks from Suicide Slum," Tony said nonchalantly. "I doubt anyone will notice."

Barry's hand dropped to his side. "You won't get away with this," he said. "Mr friend's uncle is a detec-"

"Yes, I will," Tony said. "She's a whore. You have probably made dubious connections through that community house you keep blabbing on about. You're nothing more than two misguided college students who were lured into the wrong neighbourhood. It was inevitable, really." He raised the revolver. "Now, get out of the way. My mother raised me to believe that ladies should go first."