Part Eight
It was Sunday afternoon in the Lane’s contemporary style kitchen. Lois was helping her mother prepare dinner, chopping the potatoes as if she was attempting to destroy them rather than make a side dish.
“What’s got you so upset?” Ellen asked.
“I can’t believe that guy, we put all this effort and research into a story and with a phone call, he up and disappears! Mother, that’s been his MO since he arrived at the Planet. I ask you, what mature adult male behaves like that? I wonder what his story is!”
Ellen studied her daughter carefully and said “I don’t know about the young man, but what’s
your story?”
“Huh? What are you talking about” Lois said with a puzzled expression.
“Mr. Kent’s name has been on your lips whenever we get together. No man has held your attention this way since … Claude.”
After a brief silence, Lois responded in icy tones. “Mother, it’s not the same thing.”
Refusing to concede an inch of ground, Ellen responded, “Oh yes, it is.”
Her daughter stopped chopping potatoes and folded her arms in a defensive stance. She refused to look at her Mother, but instead studied the wooden floor. Ellen took the hint and changed the subject.
“Sam and your sister should be home any minute. Why don’t you put the potatoes in boiling garlic water and mash them? They are too small to be anything else.”
She looked at the uneven blocks of potatoes and said wistfully, “Aunt Rita could make something out of these…”
“
Neither of us is in Rita’s class when it comes to cooking!” Ellen responded good-naturedly.
Lois sighed and began speaking again. “Mom, the man irks me. I can’t figure him out! One minute he’s a professional investigative reporter, the next he’s a puppy dog, hanging on every word that comes out of his obnoxious girlfriend’s mouth.”
Now it was Ellen’s turn to be silent for a beat and then spoke. “He has a
girlfriend?”
“Yeah,” Lois said with a pout. She had poured water into a sauce pan and was now mincing three large cloves of garlic.
“Since when does
my daughter poach another woman’s fella?”
“Poaching? Mother, I’m not interested in this guy! Besides he’s one of those friendly types that everyone likes.” Lois said with a chuckle.
“Oh no? How can you say that? Every
man whoever caught your eye - and I can count them on one hand - always
irked and challenged you. That weasel Claude never did. This man Kent is not from Claude’s mold. He’s caught your eye, even if it’s in a small way.”
“What about the guys from High School?” Her daughter countered quickly, trying to change the subject.
“Didn’t I say
men? Besides, back than you were much too young for a serious relationship.” Ellen’s voice softened and she said,
“Paul in college was another story. He had potential until Linda King turned his head.” Unspoken between them were Ellen’s words that she never trusted the traitorous redhead.
Lois groaned as she added minced garlic to the boiling water. “Molly warned me she was up to no good. I was too stubborn and should have listened.”
“A few years have gone by; consider that water under the bridge dear heart. Listen, if this Kent fellow is involved with someone, steer clear of him. No one deserves to be hurt the way Linda’s betrayal with Paul hurt you.” Ellen’s face, which Lois could not see, was pinched with annoyance the annoyance of a mother whose child has been grievously wronged.
Lois sat down at the kitchen table and spoke more to herself than her Mother, her voice rising with every word. “Why would a man as intelligent as him want to waste time with a woman who clearly doesn’t esteem him? Lana Lang … if she was right for him I would step back and respect his choice. Mother, he’s too good for her!”
Ellen put on heavy red oven mitts and opened the oven. When she did the piney scent of rosemary filled the air. She carefully pulled out the lamb roast, basted it and said, “Newsflash: It’s not your choice. It’s Mr. Kent’s.”
Her daughter shook her head, refusing to listen, babbled on. “Here’s a perfect example: The White Orchid Ball. Lana was not happy to be left at home, she wanted to come along. Since they are not married, she was not invited! Those tickets were very expensive, five hundred dollars apiece. Imagine me insisting on taking you and Daddy!”
“Don’t I remember something about taking Mitchell with you?”
“Yeah, but that’s different! Besides, I’m not seeing him anymore. Every time we had a date arranged he suddenly got ‘ill’ and broke it.”
Her mother smiled softly, remembering the wiry young man with a shock of brown hair. Mitchell was a confirmed hypochondriac; neither he nor Lois would have been happy together. As a matter of fact, Ellen had seen him around the hospital. He was now dating a nurse. But she decided that was information her daughter did not need to hear right now. “There seems to be a lot of differences between what you do … er did with Mitchell and what Clark and Lana do.”
Lois shut her mouth tightly, started chopping the flathead Italian parsley and refused to talk any further. Why did her mother always have to be … so close to the target? It was infuriating!
Silence reigned in the kitchen while Ellen removed the lamb from the oven and wrapped it in foil allowing it and the subject of her daughter’s love life – or lack thereof – to rest. Lois, deciding she was not going to be outmaneuvered by Ellen’s respectful silence, got up and started pulling out plates and silverware to set the table.
After completing that task she sat down again and said with a heavy sigh. “Lady Plushbottom likes him.”
Both of Ellen's eyebrows raised in surprise. “
That spiky little furball? She doesn’t like anyone but you and then only just before dinner!”
“Yeah,” Lois muttered quietly, “tell me about it. Clark was over for one of my tuna sandwiches and we worked on the Arianna Carlin-Luthor interview. Most of the time, Lady P sat near him, purring for all she was worth. What a furry little traitor,” she mumbled.
“Well, if I remember correctly, Lady Plushbottom bit Claude…”
“Yeah, I know. I should have followed her lead and kicked his cologne drenched butt out of my apartment and life then and there.”
Silence stretched out in the kitchen as the women went about their tasks, until with a gentle sigh, Ellen finally spoke, “Sweetheart, its plain to see there’s more to your feelings for Clark Kent than meets the eye. Unfortunately, he is involved in what sounds like a committed relationship. What if he gets engaged and marries this woman? Can you work with him day after day knowing how you feel about him?”
Defeated, knowing it was impossible to hide anything from Ellen Lane. She said, “Mother, of course I’ll continue to work at the Daily Planet! It’s my career! I’m not going to give it up on the off chance that a guy with corn still sprouting out of his ears might marry some social climbing blonde! After all, I was in the bullpen first!”
“Fine, you’ve drawn the proverbial line in the sand. Now comes the hard part, sticking with it.”
“Yeah well, I doubt if either of us will have to worry about any sand getting on his side.” At that point, they heard the front door open; Sam and Lucy came in laden with groceries. The conversation ended, but Lois was sure she would discuss the matter again with either her Mother or Aunt Rita. She loved her younger sister dearly, but Lucy was at an age where boyfriends were changed as frequently as socks. Besides, in this situation, the counsel of older, wiser minds was required to help maintain her resolve to respect Clark’s relationship with Lana.
***
After enjoying a pleasant dinner and evening with her family. Lois returned home and rather than go crazy thinking about the revealing conversation with her mother, wrote out an e-mail to Eduardo asking the following questions:
Eduardo:
Why is the Media Mogul spending so much time in Metropolis? It’s no secret ours is not his favorite city. It can’t be because of the Age of Napoleon exhibit which will be opening in a few months? If so, is his interest in Napoleon Bonaparte a hobby or obsession?
Just curious, what is he loaning to the exhibit?
Why weren’t there any discussions, rumored or otherwise, about the limited partnership between DMG and LNN?
Please get back to me ASAP!
Thanks for the help!
LL***
On Monday morning, Lois awoke determined to put as much personal distance between herself and Clark … Kansas as possible. Her mother, as much as she hated to admit it, was correct; no one should have to endure the pain she went through when Linda stole Paul from her. Not that she had any plans of stealing him from Lana. After all, she had principles, even if Linda with her fake red hair did not. Still, she mused, Kent was looking
awfully good these days. The man had obviously spent more than a little money on new clothes and had started sporting a decent haircut.
Such were the thoughts that continued to parade through her mind, like the circus entering town, as she sat down at her desk and quietly sipped her low-fat mocha latte.
“Good Morning Lois.” Clark went over to his desk and took off his jacket, he looked absolutely stunning in a new charcoal suit with a burgundy paisley tie and a shirt so clean and white it hurt her eyes.
“How was your weekend?”
Determined to put her new policy into effect she muttered, “Fine, spent time with my family.” She said, trying to sound non-committal and turned back to the monitor, pretending to read something of importance.
Clark sat down at his desk and looked over at Lois, his voice colored with concern “Hey, it doesn’t
sound like it was a great weekend. Anything wrong?”
She looked up and responded, “Wrong? Why would you think anything was wrong?” Trying to change tact, she asked, “What did you and Lana do this weekend?” She avoided her usual custom of sneeringly emphasizing Lana’s name.
Surprised by her interest, Clark said, “Oh, I had dinner with her and her folks, than she came with me to the baseball game. That pitcher, Roy ‘The Shuttle’ Burns knows how to throw a ball! He almost had a perfect game…”
Lois jumped in and finished his sentence, “Can you imagine that Umpire Russo called an obvious out
safe? He ruined that kid’s chances of getting into the Baseball Hall of Fame!”
“Don’t consider the baseball committee members as being narrow-minded. I imagine an asterisk will be put next to his name.”
“Glad you made good use of those tickets Clark.” Steve grumbled as he passed by Clark’s desk. As the senior sportswriter for the Daily Planet, he was clearly disappointed by not taking the tickets himself so that he could watch the history making game play out.
After acknowledging Steve’s comment, Clark turned his attention back to Lois. “I didn’t know you liked baseball.” Clark said.
“Are you kidding?!” Lois practically squeaked, “I
love the game! One of my all time favorite baseball players from the early twentieth century was the pitcher, Christy Mathewson!” Lois’ brown eyes sparkled as she launched into a brief lecture about the legendary sports hero of a bygone era. “He was so well loved and respected that when the other players took to the field, Christy or ‘Big Six’ as he was called always came out last because the fans would cheer him so loudly. It didn’t take too long for Mathewson to become the unspoken captain of the Giants. He was even respected by crusty old John McGraw, the Giants renowned coach.”
“But one of the
main reasons why I respect him is this: one of the journalists to unmask the infamous Black Sox scandal, Hugh Fullerton, consulted Mathewson for information regarding baseball gambling. Fullerton trusted Mathewson for his writing talent and on-the-field knowledge of the game. Representing the only former ballplayer among the group of investigating journalists, Mathewson played a small role in Fullerton's exposure of the scandal. Imagine; Christy Mathewson was an investigative reporter! What a great combination of brain and brawn! Anyhow, my father and I watched the Metros most Saturday afternoons until I went to college.” Lois toned down her hero worship and said in a calmer tone. “I would have thought Lana’s Dad would be more interested in the game rather than Lana.”
“No, he had a meeting at the museum. Besides, Lana wanted to come with me.”
“Oh, does she like baseball?” Lois asked raising a skeptical eyebrow.
“Uh no, but since I was able to get the tickets, she wanted to come along so we could spend some time together.”
“She had a chance to sit in on what could have been a
perfect game and she didn’t enjoy it? The Metros are in the pennant race!”
Her partner shrugged his shoulders and said, “She’s more into the city’s ballet and classical music. We wanted to spend some time together because she’s going to Europe for a couple of weeks. Apparently she’s got to convince some collectors to let the Metropolis museum borrow a few artifacts for the Napoleon exhibit.”
The thought flashed in her mind. <Lana is going to Europe? What a relief! The newsroom will be spared her intrusive presence for awhile.> With a supreme effort, Lois fought to control her tongue; the last thing she needed was to bad mouth Kansas’ girlfriend.
Remembering her decision from the previous evening, she wanted this conversation to come to an end. <Please phone, ring!> she begged.
Miraculously, the phone
did rang.
“Uh, sorry Clark gotta take this!” Her partner nodded and went to his desk. She picked up the phone, grateful to whoever was calling her for the timely interruption. “Lois Lane, Daily Planet’s city desk.” She could hear a slightly distorted voice, talking as if from great distance.
“Well hello Lois, glad I caught you, despite the five hour time difference!”
A flush of happiness danced through her, “Eduardo? This is a surprise! How are you?”
“Never better! Listen, I read your e-mail and those are very good questions. I’m sending out a package tonight, you should receive it in a couple of days.”
“That’s great! Anything I should know about before hand?” Lois asked. Her curiosity was definitely piqued.
“Oh I’ll let you take a look for yourself.” Swiftly changing the subject Eduardo said, “I’ve been reading the stories you and this new guy Kent have been writing. I’m impressed. So much so, that there will be no lingering qualms about him
permanently taking over my spot at the city desk.”
Lois, not sure she was hearing this correctly asked, “Excuse me? What are you talking about? Why would you want to do that?”
“Because … I’m in love and I’m getting married.” Eduardo said with a jubilant smile in his voice.
“Married?” Lois squeaked.
A happy chuckle came over the three thousand miles of ocean and tickled her ear, “Don’t sound so shocked Lois; people do it all the time. Her name is Samantha Pritchards; we met when I first arrived here. She’s an American journalist as well. We love London and have decided to remain in England. I’m giving up reporting to teach American Literature at one of the private schools here.”
“So this is it? You’re not coming back?” There was a distinct squeak in Lois’ voice when she spoke; with a turbulent mixture of disbelief and shock.
“Nope, sorry those days of being a wandering reporter investigating ‘hotspots’ are over. That’s the reason why this packet I’m sending over is so important, it will probably be the last.”
She looked around, lowered her voice and said, “You are not going to help me with the Daae expose?”
“Lois, I’m fifty-one, my left eye is gone and arthritis is making its presence known more and more each year. It’s high time for me to settle down and have a real home and family life. I’m going to leave this story to you and Kent. I’m handing in the traditional resignation time - two weeks – still if you really need my help in the future. The Managing Editor, Labbie Rathbone, will be able to forward any inquiries to me.”
“But …but we’re a team!” She hated how peevish her voice sounded.
The laughter she heard on the other end came through loud and clear.
“Not anymore we aren’t! I have a new partner! Listen, with Kent you should be able to wrap up the Daae case and bag a Pulitzer nomination, if not the prize itself. Remember
you started this investigation without my help. Considering the articles I’ve read from ‘Lane and Kent’ his writing style is a better compliment to yours.”
“Me and Kansas … get a Pulitzer, that’s unlikely! It’s still hard to believe you are giving up journalism to teach
American Literature? You’ll be bored silly within a week!”
“Not from where I’m sitting! I have to go; can you forward this call to Perry? I need to have what will probably amount to a painful conversation … with him. Take care of yourself! Don’t frighten Kent off and stop calling him Kansas! Cheerio, mate!” Reluctantly Lois transferred the call to Perry’s office and then slowly, sadly put down the receiver. At that moment, Catherine came over and said, “Did I hear you mention Eduardo? Was that him on the phone?”
“Uh huh,” Lois mumbled, shaking her head still numb with shock. “He … he quit!”
Catherine eyebrows nearly shot into her hairline from disbelief.
“Wait a sec. My favorite entrenched correspondent doesn’t quit, he has newspaper ink flowing through his veins!”
“Not anymore, apparently the prospect of wedded bliss has flushed all things newspaper out of his system. He’s getting married and will be teaching American Literature in some snotty private school.”
“Well blow me down,” Catherine whispered, as she sank into Lois’ visitor chair, “Eduardo, the last of the single globetrotting reporters, a married man.”
“Careful, if his fiancé hears that she’ll be libel to get jealous and we already have one guy with a resentful girlfriend around here.” Lois said with a wistful tone.
Catherine did not miss the hint of sadness in Lois voice, but decided to ignore it for the time being.
Suddenly they heard a loud, “Great Shades of Elvis!” exploding from the chief’s office. They watched as Perry jumped out of his chair and quickly closed the door. The two friends looked at each other and decided to get busy immediately. There was no doubt in their minds he was going to be on the warpath when he emerged from his lair.
***
Later that day across town, Clark was meeting in the shabby ‘chic’ office of Mr. Nicholas Wrenn, landlord of the building on Clinton Street. The rotund, middle-aged balding man sat behind the desk like an overstuffed turkey. He wheezed loudly when he rose to shake Clark’s hand in greeting.
“Kent, your references are first rate. It looks really good for you to move in as soon as the current renters vacant the premises. But I need to ask a few questions.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“OK. Are you going to be a quiet tenant? Kevin and his roommate were real quiet. Heck, if it weren’t for the rent check, I wouldn’t know they were breathing. Guess that comes with the territory of being a Doctor. What do you do for a living Kent? Plan on giving wild parties? Got a regular girlfriend?” His double chin shook as he pointedly asked each question.
This was an invasion of his privacy, all Wrenn needed to know was if Clark could pay the rent. Not his personal life. The apartment had many attributes, but not if he had to suffer with a nosy Landlord. He was extremely nervous, but if he wanted to set a precedent, now was the time. Choosing his words carefully he said, “I work at the Daily Planet as a reporter sir. That doesn’t leave a lot of time for a raucous social life now, about the rent?”
Rubbing his chin, the rotund man said, “OK, they’re paying $850.00, so with the one hundred dollar increase, the new rent will be $950.00 which includes heat and water. You understand after all, there are several renovations being made to the building. Clinton Street is the hub of a neighborhood revival, living in such an up and coming area ain’t cheap.”
The younger man nodded his head in agreement but said, “That’s funny, Skip told me the rent was
$750.00. From where I sit, that’s a
two hundred dollar increase.”
Wrenn was surprised that this mild mannered young man had been so direct; he looked like someone he could easily convince to pay the planned increase. “Well, like I said, huh, renovations have to be paid for…”
“…which should not come
exclusively* out of my pocket. Look, Mr. Wrenn, the Clinton neighborhood is improving, but improvements only go as far as the people who live here. It’s in your best interests to attract responsible tenants who can pay reasonable rents. I am not going to haggle about the cost. I’ll pay $850.00 for a two year lease. Take it or leave it.”
“What! Two years? Ok, $900.00.”
Clark hated the idea of giving up such a perfect place, but Wrenn needed to know he was not going to be taken advantage of. Reluctantly he got up from his chair and purposefully walked towards the door, he began counting mentally; One … Two … Three.
Clark could almost hear Wrenn’s jowls shake as he barked, “Ok, ok’! It’ll be $850.00 for one year!”
Without turning around and with his hand on the doorknob, Clark spoke firmly, “Two.”
Wrenn studied the young man carefully, he considered himself a good judge of character, but in this instance he was all wrong. Kent wanted the apartment, but only at the cost he could afford and was willing to walk away if he couldn’t. He was also right about wanting to attract the attention of upscale professionals to the building. He had a long-term strategy for the building in particular and the neighborhood in general. The bedrock of those plans was having stable tenants.
It might take weeks to find another clean-cut professional like Kent; meanwhile the apartment would sit empty. Realizing his new tenant had won, with a deep sigh he said, “Fine, two years. Come by this afternoon with a Bank check and the lease will be all ready for you to sign.”
Clark walked back over to Mr. Wrenn’s desk and shook the landlord’s outstretched clammy hand, “Thank you.”
Mopping his brow, Clark’s new landlord said, “Mr. Kent, that was some sweet bargaining, where did you learn to do that?”
“My father was a farmer; he used to haggle with merchants at the Smallville Farmer’s market every weekend.”
The rusty bark that escaped his new Landlord’s throat Clark decided to take as laughter. The heavy man grunted, “Farmer, huh?” “Ok, that makes sense. Most young city fellas don’t know how to negotiate …. no patience. See you this afternoon around 5:30.”
With no new investigations to run and Lana out of town, Clark figured this evening would be relatively free. “I’ll be there.” He said.
***
Across town, Jasper Templar had just exited Daae’s office after another update meeting and walked to his own. He had taken to heart the rebuke Daae had laid upon him and never entered the office again without his permission. In that particular instance, he had definitely overstepped the bounds of office etiquette. He appreciated his employer’s razor sharp mind and the nefarious scheme to take over LNN and ultimately LexCorp, but he had an agenda of his own.
Those plans were to be the owner and CEO of
both companies.
Clark Kent was not truly Superman in this universe; it allowed Jasper to operate freely to create the havoc and discord he always wanted in his own universe. Still he had to be cautious; working ‘under the radar’ he would not attract unnecessary attention. In this universe, he didn’t have to worry about Lois Lane convincing him to be Superman. Lana Lang made sure he was too preoccupied paying attention to her rather than his partner. She held control over Kent, just as he wanted to hold control over this planet.
One of the best ways to control a planet’s history, to reshape it into whatever he desired was to have power over its media.
He smiled to himself, what a lucky chance to stumble upon the angry and bitter Arianna Carlin-Luthor when he did. Manipulating her had been child’s play, despite her being a knowledgeable psychiatrist. She would do anything to get back at her errant husband.
He used Daae’s company DMG, resources to accomplish his own purposes. DMG’s long and complicated history of manipulating the news could be used to his advantage if he was careful. He had made himself indispensable to Daae’s takeover bid; buying up blocks of LNN stock. Previously he had concentrated on purchasing minute blocks of stocks from small-time investors. In this last meeting he provided a list of investors possessing huge chunks of LexCorp stocks. Some of whom would be only too happy to sell their stock in order to keep their name out of a scandal; a scandal that would be created and served up by the Daae Media Group.
He merely had to be patient and make sure no one outside of his assistant Bonesteel knew what was going on. If word got out that LexCorp was in play, fiscal sharks would smell blood in the water and all his plans would be derailed. Even if a newspaper like The Metropolis Star put a hint in their shameful excuse of a financial page, problems could arise. No, he had to work carefully, given time he would be the majority stockholder for both companies. The beauty of it was Daae had unknowingly provided the tools for him to do so. God, he loved irony! With a nasty chuckle he entered his office.
“Bonesteel? Bonesteel! Where are you?!”
“Here, sir.” A gangly middle-aged man with large ears that stuck out on either side of his skull and the thick glasses of an accountant stood up from his cubicle. With fluid, almost catlike steps he walked slowly over to Templar and said in a California dialect overlaid with a slight British accent that suggested time in Oxford. “Yes sir?”
“Here, catch!” Bonesteel, barely missing a beat, caught the diskette containing the list of investors Daae had provided, Templar said, “Get on the phone and start working on these investors and make bloody sure to be discreet.”
“Yes, Mr. Templar.” He said nodding, “Shall I send the report of my conversations with the investors to you in the morning?”
“Of course, imbecile,” he snarled, “no one else should be reading those reports.”
Bonesteel’s facial expression was as blank as a sheet of white paper. He nodded again, took the diskette and walked with utmost dignity back to his desk.
Templar looked after him. Bonesteel was his secret weapon,
he was the one putting in long hours of work and Jasper took all the credit. Nonetheless, he was paying the obsequious man a handsome sum for his talents so he had no reason to complain. It was in his best interests to be silent; one phone call to the Securities Trade Commission and Bonesteel would be in jail for several counts of fraud and stock manipulation.
Sadly for Bonesteel, the hapless MBA had attempted to secretly misappropriate funds from his former company’s pension fund and Templar, who was also working at the company, purely by accident discovered the embezzlement. When confronted with his ‘extracurricular’ activities, the accountant reluctantly agreed to do
Templar’s bidding in exchange for his silence.
Using the money Bonesteel had stolen; they had purchased a fledging cable company and had built it into the Tempting Food Network or TFN. Templar wanted to expand the cable company’s offerings into a channel that catered to the lifestyles of the rich and fabulous. It was a happy circumstance that he met Arianna Luthor in Chicago at a cable networking conference. Lex Luthor’s wife had apparently taken a liking to him. She was intrigued and curious about his desires to branch his small company into new territories. They had kept in touch and eventually she introduced him to Gregory Daae. The media mogul surreptitiously provided him with funds to both expand ZeroM Communications and just as secretly purchase LNN stock. While he – or rather – while Bonesteel toiled to do the same with DMG. Given time and the right amount of stocks he would soon be in possession of both.
Jasper whistled happily as he pushed open the door to his sumptuously decorated office, life was moving along beautifully, exactly the way it should be. Considering he was permanently stuck here because his time machine was damaged, the least he could do was make this world his own.
***
Lana climbed the narrow stairway up to the sleek silver aircraft; it’s very design spoke unapologetically of wealth, opulence with careful restraint.
<Of course it did.> She thought.
A rather impressive steward, dressed in a starched white jacket, dotted with golden buttons and black pants with pleats so crisp they could slice bread, took her bags. Lana worked especially hard to remain calm and relaxed once she boarded Daae’s private jet. She tried unsuccessfully not to be awed by the gentle luxury assailing her senses with layers of sumptuous fabrics, colors and aromas of rich leathers and French cuisine. A quick search of her memory failed to yield any experience close to the one she was having now.
In lightly accented English the steward spoke, “Please Mademoiselle Lang, come this way to the dining area.”
Step by excited step she moved down the central aisle through a portal that opened into another world.
The interior was silky affluence itself; four passenger seats of buttery soft cream colored leather surrounded a walnut conference table. Already seated there were two men, Lord Julian Delgrave and Nigel Ashley-Pitt, Metropolis Museum board members. A uniformed waiter was quietly laying out menu sheets for Daae’s guests to complete. She chose a light shrimp and avocado salad accompanied by French onion soup for her meal. She sat in one of the chairs and almost gasped in admiration, feeling its plush contours engulf her body. The gently muted tones, gleaming wood and comfortable seating was soothing, she had quite forgotten this was an airplane, until the steward spoke again.
“Monsieur Daae will join you shortly; he is in the cockpit going over the preflight check.”
“
He’s going to fly the plane?” She asked in surprise.
“No, not this time, Monsieur Daae is a licensed pilot, board certified to fly here and in Switzerland. Sometimes he does fly this craft for business trips, but with guests onboard, the Captain will have the honors today. Please Mademoiselle Lang; if you wish to freshen up, your private berth is located past the gallery.”
She nodded and tried to behave as if it was perfectly normal to have a bedroom thousands of feet in the air.
Once the landing gear was locked into position and their meals were served, Lana joined in a lively discussion with Lord Delgrave and Ashley-Pitt both of whom spoke excellent French. After a time, Daae joined them and they delved into an intense conversation revolving around logistics of acquisitions for exhibits covering the next five years. Lana, determined to take advantage of this foreknowledge, took extensive notes which could prove useful at a later date.
Daae observed her carefully. She could have easily departed to one of the sleeping berths and read. Still she had made the most of her situation and charmed both men, in the meantime she discerned the inner workings of the board better than perhaps even her father, Professor Lang. Mlle. Lang was witty, intelligent, and more than willing to change a situation to her favor.
Again, this young woman had proven her quality. She would bear watching and careful consideration over the next few days.
***
A bright, star filled night had fallen over the bustling city of Metropolis. Within its most imposing skyscraper was a dark figure sitting at a large antique desk, Lex Luthor, broodingly smoking a finely turned Cuban cigar, a thick cloud of smoke swirling menacingly around him. He had ensconced himself in the office, retreating from all within the Luthor household to meditate on current events.
He had recently completed studying the reports of Space Station Archimedes and the descriptions were glowing. Everything was proceeding according to schedule. The latest module carrying the hydroponics laboratory would be launched in a few hours. The standard press releases were prepared and ready to be sent to LNN and DMG. His dream of having an orbital station high above humanity was bit by tantalizing bit becoming a reality. He should have been happy, ecstatic but a raw ache was gnawing at his mind like a tiny, incessant rodent.
The luxuriant, well-orchestrated White Orchid Ball had been a rousing social success; unfortunately, Mr. Daae had taken over the announcement about their joint venture. As the senior and wealthier partner in their business relationship, he should have been the one to take the delectable Miss Lane down a peg or two. Not this relative newcomer to Metropolis society. He had read the accounts in several newspapers, both here and abroad, in all of them, Daae was recognized as the superior presence. If this was Europe or Asia, he would not care so much; after all, that was Daae’s ‘theatre of operations’. But Metropolis and the United States was his ‘combat zone’.
Napoleon was Gregory’s acknowledged hero as Alexander the Great was Lex’s. Could this be a war being played out between the ideological
and intellectual descendents of these brilliant tacticians? Rather than sword and cannon, their weapons of choice in this conflict were economics and communications.
It was an intriguing thought, one he needed to meditate upon.
Arianna, who he usually kept out of his more ‘intricate’ business dealings, seemed very keen on encouraging their partnership in this particular venture. She appeared happy - almost radiant at the idea of having the Swiss businessman around. She told him they had met in Zurich years before, but did not elaborate of what kind of association they had.
If there was more to the relationship than she was telling, it did not concern him. For quite some time now he accepted that their marriage was now nothing more than a social alliance. As long as Arianna did nothing to embarrass him publicly, what she and Daae did behind closed doors was none of his concern.
He reflected on his own illicit relationship with Mindy Church, it had been more for amusement than pleasure. She was captivating in a cheap way, but her plans for taking over Metropolis did not meet with his approval. News of Intergang supplying low-priced weapons to small-time gangs had reached him. Some had gone on a crime spree. She had unwittingly caused almost irreparable harm to some of his operations. He determined there could only be one Boss of Metropolis.
Mindy’s inconsistent vacillations between ‘dumb blonde’ and criminal mastermind had became ... disturbing. That dangerously irresponsible behavior could not be allowed to continue. Plans were in motion to end her involvement with his life and the underworld activities of their ‘fair’ city.
So he was surprised and even pleased that a very jealous Arianna had skillfully eradicated the venomous creature from Metropolis. He never inquired through his criminal world connections or upper crust liaisons exactly what Arianna had done to ruin her rival’s reputation with Metropolis’ more unsavory elements. But his dear wife’s actions saved him time, money and a considerable amount of nuisance. The right information in the proper ears of the police department put an end to the gangs and their guns. He and Nigel with his minions moved in and like a fast acting cancer, effectively dismantled Intergang’s global operations.
It had been an exhilarating time, definitely the kind of epoch in a man’s life that keeps
ennui at bay.
As the deconstruction of Intergang waned, the opportunity for LNN to be one of the two news organizations to cover the creation of the international space station presented itself. The space agency felt due to security concerns that having only the two premier news organizations – their combined viewership was over forty-five percent of the planet – was more than enough. They left it to Luthor and Daae’s staff to hammer out the myriad details of the business contract. Several months of tense negotiations, meetings and phone conversations had preceded his decision to allow this partnership between himself and the European media agency to go forward. He had felt the other man’s subtle, yet forceful personality shape the meetings. It was paramount that he regained and maintained the upper hand between them and to the world at large. .
The first step in recovering lost ground was granting an interview; one that was up close and personal - the kind which his lovely wife had participated in the week before. Since he was Metropolis key resident the most popular news outlet would have to be the Daily Planet. With its international reputation for truth and fairness it was the only logical choice. What better reporter to ask than Lois Lane? He had noted Daae had taken considerable delight in needling her. After reading the news of her belittlement the next day in the Metropolis Star, he was certain her professional pride and private ego had taken a thrashing.
Miss Lane would be the
perfect choice. He had no doubt she would supply all the necessary accolades to him and LNN in her article. All this, while downplaying the achievements of a certain Swiss media mogul.
He relaxed and no longer brooded, now that a fresh aspect of the game between himself and Gregory Daae had been formed. Ennui was again kept at bay. Nonetheless he needed to keep a vigilant eye on his dubious business partner. With that thought in mind he went to tend to his bonsai tree.
