From Part 8:
“Mrs. Platt wants us to prove that her husband didn’t commit suicide.” Lois summed their conversation up and poured a cup of coffee that she handed Clark. Then she went on to prepare some for herself.
“Yeah, I know…” Clark sighed absent-mindedly and added sugar and cream.
“You know?” Lois looked up, surprised.
Noticing his mistake, Clark hurried to add. “I mean I thought that might be the reason for her visit.”
Lois nodded slowly, obviously accepting his explanation. “I just hope Star Labs will come up with some results. So far, we have no more than a supposed accident and a scientist who seems to have committed suicide. That’s not exactly great story material.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Jimmy just went to fetch the report. What are we going to do until he’s back?”
Clark shrugged his shoulders. Apart from a fierce determination to do something, he had not much to go on. But he could not just sit in the newsroom and wait for a miracle. He had done far too much sitting around lately. Thoughtfully, he raised his own cup of coffee to his lips.
“It’s almost noon, perhaps we could go for an early lunch,” Lois suggested.
Hurt Before
Part 9:
Bursting with nervous energy, Clark had not been hungry at all. Yet, inexplicably, he had trotted along and had ended up chewing on a stale sandwich. He would rather have done almost anything other than sit around and listen to Lois rant about all the things they did not know. Though, honestly, Clark did not have the faintest idea how he was supposed to handle things. Breaking into Lex Tower was not going to accomplish anything. Telling Lois about his suspicions … well, he was just not sure he was that desperate, yet.
Clark tried to rationalize his reluctance, telling himself that he did not know Lois well enough to be sure he could trust her not to alert Luthor to his investigation. But a nagging voice in the back of his mind kept insisting that this was not the reason at all – he did trust Lois. He did not want to have her laugh at him and it bothered him deeply that he even cared.
“You know, what I really don’t get?” Lois asked as they were on their way back to the Planet. “Why would anyone want to sabotage the Space Program?”
“If you are looking for a motive, follow the money,” Clark spoke for what seemed like the first time since they had gone for lunch.
The somewhat unexpected answer made Lois stop dead in her tracks. She turned around, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you just quoting the manual for investigative journalism or do you know something I don’t?” She folded her arms in front of her chest.
Clark felt her intense gaze as she studied him thoughtfully. “Well, whoever did this wants the Congress of Nations to cancel the program. It either is for ideological or financial reasons. If it was some terrorist group, why would they try to cover their tracks? So I say – follow the money.”
“The Space program is founded by the government. The colonists are going to do basic research. It’s not even sure that anyone is going to make money from what they’ll find.” Lois reasoned.
“Lex Luthor plans to send up his own Space Station, should the current program be cancelled. He obviously thinks it’s worth the financial risk,” Clark pointed out.
Lois wiggled her eyebrows. “You’re not suggesting that Luthor’s behind all this, are you?” she asked. “That’s insane, Clark. Why would he use such an elaborate scheme just to get his own station into space? It’s going to be a losing deal for years to come until it might eventually pay off.”
“Do you honestly think that Luthor has his own Space Station planned just because he’s such a nice guy?” Clark said grimly, suddenly seething with anger. “Then I guess the Kerth Awards are not all they’re cracked up to be.”
He did not even know who he was angry with. Lois – because she failed to see the truth, or himself, for not making a difference in spite of all those amazing powers he had. Clark wanted to scream, to lash out, to do anything to alleviate all this pent up frustration. He balled his hands into tight fists and stuck them deeply into his pockets. The fabric was awfully thin to restrain them. He knew he should be anywhere but in Lois’ presence - or anyone else’s for that matter – so he stormed off.
“Clark!” he heard Lois yell, but did not stop. “Clark!”
Try as he might not to, his ears tuned in on the quick staccato of her heels on the concrete as she followed him. He heard the hitch of her breathing quicken, interrupted by murmured complaints about men in general and imposed partners in particular. She did not sound serious though, not like she had when they first met.
As Clark rounded the corner of the street, the metal globe of the Daily Planet came into view. The symbol of all his hopes had him mesmerized. Just as suddenly as the rush of anger had come on, it faded. He stood there, frozen to the spot, staring like on his very first visit to Metropolis. The justice that he dreamed of seemed possible again. He would get Lois to believe him, he would finally gather that last bit of evidence he needed.
Someone bumped into him, catching Clark off guard and causing him to stagger slightly. “Clark,” that someone said. As Clark turned around, he looked at Lois, who was rubbing a spot on her arm. “I thought I had lost you in the crowd,” she offered, as if it was actually her who owed him an explanation.
For a moment they just stared into each other’s eyes, trying to gauge what kind of reaction to expect. Seconds ticked by that seemed to stretch into hours of uncomfortable silence. Around them, the world kept turning. The subway station spit out groups of people in regular intervals while it swallowed others. Yellow cabs pressed their horns in a non-distinguishable pattern, seemingly missing the crossing pedestrians only by coincidence. The hum of hundreds of conversations filled the street. None of this was audible to Clark. All he registered was the faint whiff of Lois’s breathing and the steady, although somewhat quicker-than-usual beat of her heart.
It was Lois who finally broke the silence. “Are you ever going to tell me what it is between you and Luthor?” she asked.
“I’m sorry for what I said about your awards. Actually, I think you’re a pretty great reporter,” Clark replied, choosing to ignore her question.
“Thanks, I guess,” Lois said, eying him wearily.
“So, how about we go and see what Jimmy found out?” Clark suggested.
* * *
“This was a nice idea,” Lana said, raising her glass of wine to a toast. “But…” she leaned forward, lowering her voice as she continued. “…isn’t this place awfully expensive? I know the paper isn’t paying you that much, Clark.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Clark dismissed her objection with a wave of his hand and reached for his own glass.
He tipped it to hers and took a sip of the full-bodied red wine. For a moment he just savored the taste, the hint of cassis and the earthy note that he could not quite put a name to. Nearly five weeks in New York had given him only a glimpse of the big city, its pace and vigor and restlessness. Clark enjoyed the anonymity of the crowd. Hardly anyone ever gave him a second glance; no one seemed to care where he was going. The many dark and deserted alleys were the perfect place to take off and spend the nights among the clouds. Clark felt that the time would come when he was going to miss Smallville and the people there, but for now this was just one big adventure.
“I still can’t believe we’re actually in New York,” Lana said enthusiastically and a broad smile spread across her lips. “This is such a great opportunity, me working for Luthor Corp and you writing for the New York Times.”
Clark raised his brows. “It’s only an internship, Lana. Next term, we’ll be back in Kansas at Mid U.”
Lana suddenly looked a lot like the cat that ate the canary. “Well, you don’t know the good news, yet,” she beamed. “My supervisor said that he really liked my work and that he’d make sure Luthor Corp had a job for me as soon as I graduate.“
“Congratulations,” Clark said proudly. “You deserve it.”
He felt that the last bit had sounded lame and he hurried to take another sip of his wine. A sense of uneasiness tainted its taste. Would his reply have sounded more heart-felt if his own editor-in-chief had not made a very similar offer, Clark wondered. He decided not to voice his thoughts.
“Lex was in the office today. He invited us for dinner at the end of next week,” Lana said.
“That’s nice,” Clark replied, still clinging to his wine glass. This evening did not exactly go as planned. He had imagined to share a nice meal and to take Lana somewhere private. Somewhere along the way, Lex had slipped into their conversation. How was he ever going to change the topic to what he really wanted to tell Lana tonight? His nervousness spiked up once more, making him want to back out.
Clark had the whole evening carefully arranged, trying to close every loop hole that could possibly arise. The expensive restaurant had been chosen, because the reservation alone had cost him a small fortune, since he had needed to bribe one of the waiters. It was situated so far from their respective boarding houses that not sharing a cab would ultimately result in a cross-examination. Moreover, he had found a secluded spot in Central Park where a bottle of champagne was waiting for them, well hidden under some bushes. Long story short, it would be an absolute shame and a completely useless dent in his pocket if he was not going to go through with this. Steeling himself for what was to come, Clark took another sip of wine.
* * *
“They re-created the launch in a hologram, it was really smooth...” Jimmy said all misty-eyed, and grinning like a kid in a candy store. Then he paused, obviously enjoying his moment in the limelight to the fullest. Only as Lois was about to voice her impatience, he hastily added, “Anyway, they concluded that Platt's theory was right on. There was deliberate sabotage. The transport explosion was no accident.” Jimmy’s grin even broadened, tinted with a hint of awe as he watched Lois and Clark. “Congrats!”
His announcement had the desired effect. A winner’s smile spread across Lois’ lips. “He was right! Platt was right!” she exclaimed enthusiastically. “Now we can write the story. And, if we can convince people there was sabotage and who was behind it we can stop them.”
“Only, we lack proof,” Clark said soberly.
“Didn’t you just listen? STAR Labs c-o-n-f-i-r-m-e-d Platt’s theory!” Lois said, deliberately slow, rolling her eyes as if Clark was a particularly dense child.
From the corner of his eyes, Clark saw that Jimmy chose that exact moment to sneak out of the room.
“And we have what to base our story on?” Clark asked, taking a deep breath to keep his cool. Before Lois could reply he went on. “A virtual model of the launch. Oh, and of course the word of a scientist, who was banned from the scientific community, spent time in a psych ward and supposedly committed suicide.” He snorted derisively. “Yeah, that’s a solid case indeed.”
“Okay, then we’ll still have to do a little legwork,” Lois conceded, unfazed. “If we had snuck into that EPRAD facility like I suggested…”
“And I suppose if we had done that, we would have found a paper trail that would have led us right to Luthor,” Clark retorted, feeling his anger rise once again. Knowing he was walking down a dangerous path, Clark clenched his hands into tight fists and turned on his heels. He needed to get out of the conference room and blow off some steam, before he did something he was going to regret.
Lois stepped in his way, her arms folded in front of her chest. Somehow she managed to stare Clark down, even though she was several inches smaller than him. With her intense gaze she was daring him to take another step. Involuntarily, Clark averted his eyes, desperately trying to think of a way to escape the impending argument. His gesture only served to direct his attention to the fragile-looking door knob. Knowing that he probably would not be able to open the door without unhinging it, Clark felt awfully trapped.
“Why do you keep insisting that Luthor was the one who set this whole thing up?” Lois asked, her outwardly calm demeanor betrayed by her flaring nostrils. “You come here and keep dropping those hints. You always stay late in the evening, working on something that cannot possibly be related to any story Perry assigned to you,” she specified, glaring at Clark. “Don’t even try to claim otherwise.”
Clark opened his mouth, but soon closed it again, at a loss for words. Trying to give an answer was a futile exercise, anyway, as Lois was not yet done with him.
“You seem to have been friends at one point in your life, so what happened?” Her whole stance left little doubt that this time she was not going to accept an evasive reply.
“You’re right.” Clark let out a breath he had not realized he had been holding. “I have been investigating Lex Luthor for years now,” he admitted softly. “I really can’t tell you what triggered my initial suspicion. After college I started travelling the world and worked for newspapers in at least half a dozen countries. Luthor Corp and its affiliated companies had branch offices in most of them.”
Clark turned on his heels, no longer able to stand the tension of resting in one spot. He started to pace, raking his hand through his hair. It took him a moment to compose himself enough to continue.
“In the beginning I did research for other writers, much like Jimmy does now,” he said eventually. “Whenever I helped investigate some story remotely related to sinister business dealings, one of Luthor’s companies was involved.”
Lois shrugged that off. “He has his fingers in almost every pie,” she quoted what Jimmy had said at the ball. “Like you said, he owns companies all over the world. It is only natural that you would come across one or another during your research. Look, Clark, I’m sure that’s all very fascinating. But don’t you think you’re a little obsessive, when it comes to Luthor?”
“I’m not obsessive,” Clark replied tersely.
The small mocking voice in the back of his mind kept asking him if he was actually sure about that. Lois just raised her brows, which was really all that needed to be said. Clark hung his head and sighed. His shoulders sagged in defeat. Things had not really played out the way he had thought they would. But truth be told, the idea to come to Metropolis had been born out of desperation rather than a well laid plan. “Come to my hotel room tonight and I show you what I’ve got. If you still think I’ve lost my mind, then I won’t ever mention this again,” Clark said quietly. All the anger that had been keeping him on edge was suddenly gone, evaporated. He just felt empty.
“I’m going to interview Luthor tonight,” Lois replied, businesslike, nothing in her tone of voice indicating that she had even acknowledged Clark’s offer. “And concerning the Messenger story, I suggest we pay EPRAD a visit, tomorrow.”
With that she turned on her heels and a moment later, she had left the conference room. The bang of the door seemed to be the only real proof that she had ever been there. Clark stared after her, his eyes fixed on the slight sway of her hips. His gut was suddenly tied in a knot. After their argument, their working relationship seemed to be pretty much back to the way it had been in the beginning. Lois probably thought he was a moron on a wild goose chase and he had done little to refute that impression.
It was better this way, Clark tried to convince himself. They had grown much too close for his liking, anyway. Something in his heart tightened painfully as he watched her walking up towards the elevators. If only their argument had done anything to quench his feelings for her, Clark thought miserably.
to be continued...
