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Part Eleven

Café Americana was in the midst of a hectic mid-morning, the sounds of dishes clattering and voices of hungry patrons freely mingled together. Busboys cleaned and reset tables with practiced ease. But in a small booth to the rear of the restaurant, two women sat quietly. When Lois’s aunt finally spoke; it was with a sad, almost haunted tone Lois had never heard before.

Lois studied carefully the expression on Rita’s face; her green eyes had a faraway look in them. “Wh …where did your former partner Eduardo get this information from?”

Without answering her query, Lois said, remembering a conversation from years before, “You once said and I quote, ‘One of these days you and I are going to have a long talk about all manner of investigations; both domestic and foreign.’ Has that day come?”

Rita continued looking at the names on the paper and said softly,
“Yes. Yes, it has. Apparently your associate has unearthed a few events from my past. Events I might add that should have been taken care of long ago.”

“What has that got to do with Daae?” Lois asked as she leaned closer, anxious to hear every word.

“These initials, UBS stands for the United Bank of Switzerland. About twenty years ago the former head of this bank had financial dealings with some vicious characters - certain American mobsters were money laundering their illegal funds through UBS. We – that is the CIA - were sent to investigate.”

Her head bent listening carefully to every word her aunt spoke, Lois asked, “What tipped you guys off?”

“A well-respected journalist named Armin Rissler ran a financial newspaper in Zurich; he was the one who gave us the first clues. He had an uncanny ability to ferret out fiscal misdeeds in Zurich. The stench coming from that particular banking institution must have been very enticing. The Swiss are very proud of their banking industry and believe it should be protected. Honorable men like Rissler get seriously annoyed when anybody - even one of their own - messes with that institution. He had written several articles about the bank’s less than savory covert activities, articles which did not cast UBS in the best of lights.”

Rita stopped and looked around the busy restaurant; as if to remind herself she was in Metropolis and not Zurich. Once mentally reassured of that fact, she continued.

“Those unflattering articles raised a lot of flags. The Swiss police and Interpol sent in the blood hounds. After no small amount of backroom ‘diplomacy’, we sent in ours. When it comes to the Swiss, we like to keep things above board. Never know when they might need something from us – Quid pro quo and all that other good stuff.”

“Unfortunately, by the time our investigative and financial team was in place, only forty-eight hours after the last article had been printed, Rissler was dead - killed in an automobile ‘accident’. Not surprisingly, the driver of the other vehicle was never found.”

“Didn’t he have a partner or assistant, someone who could provide us with files?” Lois asked sensing her aunt's frustration.

Rita shook her head, “From everything I read in his case files he was a real maverick. Apparently on this particular investigation, Rissler did not believe in trusting anyone with his sources and materials. All the evidence he had gathered against the bank had vanished as if it had never existed. Since there wasn’t a paper trail pointing a finger at the UBS, the investigation itself collapsed. Not long after that, his newspaper was purchased by a cartel that had no interest in launching an investigation against such a powerful financial institution without evidence.”

Shaking her head, the long dark hair brushing against her face Lois said, “That doesn’t sound right.”

“No, it doesn’t. Our initial investigation only yielded the special numbered accounts owned by the American mobsters, unfortunately they were closed; all records of them were swept under the rug so completely the paper trail Armin mentioned in his final article never materialized. That in itself was maddening, but since this was not an American company we had to pack up our tent and go home. Of course, not only was the head of the bank ‘retired’, but so were the entire board of directors. The Swiss authorities were satisfied and very politely told us our presence was no longer required or tolerated. It was a very humiliating experience for the CIA in general and my team in particular. We failed to get a handle on that case.”

Lois nodded her head and said thoughtfully, “I can just imagine. But why do you say ‘the chickens have come home to roost?”

“That was my last case for the agency. Mike – rightfully so – wanted me to spend more time with him and our children not chasing bad guys all over the globe.” She sighed, “Still, it might have been awfully satisfying to finish my career with a win. Yet, besides that, there was something about the case that never set right with me or the rest of the team. We felt as if everything that happened had been manipulated. Like someone wanted us to make noise and not find anything. Almost like a distraction tactic.” Rita frowned and her face darkened with concentration. “Now my question is; what has this got to do with your investigation, twenty some odd years later?”

Lois looked into her aunt’s eyes and said, “Do you know who was behind the purchase of the newspaper? I mean, who was really behind it?”

“No. Our Section Chief, Willis Figg, debriefed us and redacted any communications that might go public.”

“I’d like to talk with this Chief Figg. Is he still around”

“Figg?” She shook her head. “No, died five years ago, of lung cancer, guy smoked like a chimney. What are you getting at Lois?”

Lois’s face appeared thoughtful, “Eduardo must have seen a connection between what happened to Armin Rissler, UBS and my investigation. The media and the Swiss financial world were maneuvered to further someone else’s ends. Plus, this looks a lot like another story…” Lois’s voice trailed off.

Rita interrupted her train of thought and said, “Right, like your fisheries case! Do you think Daae did all of this to make that story Armin wrote go away? Eduardo must have serious connections to be able to find my name linked to UBS after all these years. He probably thinks my tenuous connections to Langley can help.”
Her niece looked at her, a hopeful expression on her face. “Can you? Talk to your friends at Langley?”

Shrugging her shoulders she responded, “Maybe … my old team is scattered, most of whom I haven’t heard from in years, but there still might be a few people around.”

Lois looked about carefully and whispered, “I can’t believe you were a spy. I understand Uncle Mike’s concerns, but this was important work. Why leave?”

Rita cocked her head and said, “In that business, agents either move to a desk job, train new operatives or retire. No one stays in the field forever.” She paused for a moment, then covered both hands over Lois’s and gave them a firm squeeze. “Honey, watch your back. These people, whoever they are, play for keeps. Mike and I don’t want to lose you.”

Lois could not help but notice her aunt’s hands were ice cold with fear and apprehension. The tone in her voice also brooked no argument and suddenly Lois felt a tiny band of dread run through her heart and into her shoes. Were these shadowy people from Rita’s past the ones trying to kill her?

***

Lana awoke lying between cool midnight blue satin sheets. She stretched her arms languidly and yawned, completely satisfied and content after last night’s excitement and amorous labors. Finally after denying him for weeks, she shared the bed of Gregory Daae.

His surprisingly tender, lovemaking pleased her far more than her earlier lovers. He, no doubt exhausted from the previous night’s labors, lay sleeping contentedly by her side. She marveled at the hard chiseled form which lay softly outlined beneath the dark perfume scented sheets.

It was a bright clear Wednesday morning and she was here in a fantastic chalet in Gstaad with her husband of little more than two days. Settling back into the deep fluffy goose down pillows and luxuriating in their softness, she looked at the rings on the third finger of her left hand and smiled. The engagement ring was a masterpiece of delicate hand engraving; the natural pink diamond accents surrounded a square cut diamond center. The slender yellow gold diamond wedding band created a perfect union between the two rings.

The rings meant something, more than just the fact that she was his wife; to her they symbolized determination to maintain control. Despite the kisses they had exchanged since their first official date at the Versace Fashion show she steadfastly refused to sleep with him until there was a wedding band on her finger… not an engagement ring. Lana was fairly certain Gregory would have more respect for her character by waiting until they married before making love. Even Clark had the old-fashioned notion that a couple should wait until they were married to consummate their relationship. That attitude had annoyed her, but she had been willing to be patient. That learned patience had served her well with Gregory. Now, here they were together.

On the other hand, after the proposal, he had overcome her every objection to waiting until they returned to Metropolis and ask her parents’ permission for her hand. The laws in Switzerland demanded at least ten days for the Bans to be read. But a man with his power and influence had that particular practice waived. They were both adults; there was no need to stand on outdated customs. A mere four days after making his proposal they were married in the Registrar’s Office on Molkenstrasse.

He promised her when they returned to the states she would have a wedding and reception in Metropolis where her father could walk her down the aisle.

She very much wanted a large wedding and reception to take place at the Luxor Hotel. What better way to announce to her friends and co-workers that she had aligned herself with one of the richest men in the world? Finally all the luxuries and financial security she could hope for were hers.

Her father would be thrilled that she had married so well. Now the worry of her marrying a poor newspaper man could finally be put to rest. Her mother might be a little disappointed, she really did like Clark, but in the end she would prefer Gregory’s old world charm and affluence. After all, the next time they came to Europe there would be no need for them to stay in an impersonal hotel. They could relax and reside in any one of her husband’s apartments or homes.
Now her plans for an expedition to Burgundy could proceed as planned.

This was a marriage of convenience, the very best kind.

Lana ran her left hand through his thick white hair, inspecting how the early morning light sparkled on the delicate gems. The pre-nuptial agreement she had signed prior to the civil ceremony offered a total package of financial security for her comforts. If she did not produce a child for him within the first five years of their marriage they would divorce with a sizable settlement for her. If she did and the child was a boy, no matter what the nature of their relationship, a larger amount in her name would be deposited in a Swiss bank. In the meantime he would fund her Roman colony archeological dig in Burgundy.

Not a bad outcome for two month’s worth of work.

Still, she did have a single regret; Clark would be terribly hurt when he discovered she had flown off to Europe on a job assignment and returned married to another man. How she was going to explain the situation would be a challenge.

But for now, it was time to rest; Lana lay down next to her new husband and drifted into a light sleep.

Unbeknownst to her, Gregory was awake but merely pretended to be asleep. He was an early riser and someday soon she would learn that about him –and other supplementary information only his wife should be aware of. His mind went back to what led them to this quiet, superbly appointed bedchamber…

On a beautiful Wednesday evening they were enjoying the boat tour on Lake Zurich. Gregory had been especially attentive all day, he wanted to ask her an important question but not on the boat. Would she join him for a champagne supper at Restaurant Kronenhalle, famous for its original paintings by Chagall, Picasso and Mirò? She agreed and soon found herself seated at a white linen covered table surrounded by fantastic artwork and the most elite members of Zurich’s society.

Gregory ordered shredded calves' liver with rösti, while Lana requested filet of sole baked with olives and tomatoes. He scrutinized the petite blonde while sipping an excellent aperitif. In his mind weighing the question he was about to pose. Many hours of carefully laid plans were coming to a climax this evening. Memories of when he first saw her darting through the back corridors of the museum came to mind. She moved like some elusive woodland creature, disappearing around a corner whenever he was near. Intrigued, he made discreet inquiries and discovered Lana was intelligent, ambitious and determined to lead her own archaeological dig someday. The reports also revealed she was trying to learn as much about him as possible. Amused, even refreshed by her coquettishness, Daae decided to make the game easier, however on his own ground. It was he who convinced the original owner of the Napoleon camp chair to renege on his agreement with the museum, which forced Prof. Lang to send his daughter on a search for another chair. How ‘fortunate’ that Garen Aymond was willing to assist Lana.

He originally thought they would enjoy a brief, pleasurable liaison, but the young woman was captivating in her own way.

Now they sat across a table at one of the most romantic restaurants in the city.

He was not nervous, but concerned as to how he might react if the answer was a firm negative. Lana had mentioned that Clark Kent - partner to the obnoxious Lois Lane - was her ‘boyfriend’, but since they had started spending time together in Metropolis the young man’s name had never once crossed her lips.

Apparently the relationship was neither serious nor committed; otherwise his attentions would have been refused. He knew enough about the young woman to know she was not inhibited. If she truly loved this Kent person, she would have said as much.

After a time, the dinner dishes were cleared and they sat, quietly drinking Italian roasted coffee and sharing a slice of warm strawberry and apple strudel, drizzled with a rich, creamy vanilla sauce, laced with brandy. They held hands and gazed at one another as classical music played softly in the background. The air swirling around them was perfumed with the scent of flirtation, ambition and a dangerous hint of seduction.

Gregory broke the spell of the moment and said quietly, “I have something for you.” From nowhere he produced a small dove gray box and opened it. To Lana’s astonishment a new star had joined the night, it lay on a pillow of sapphire velvet, a perfect yellow diamond ring of such clarity and brightness, it nearly blinded her.

“A token of my admiration and pleasure sweet Lana. These past few weeks since your arrival in Zurich have been a curing balm to my soul.
I think continuing our involvement on a permanent basis … marriage will provide benefits to us both. Of course, if this ring is not to your liking it can be changed immediately.”

She considered the sparkling contents nestled within the well-designed box and a smile stretched across her perfectly lacquered red lips ... one of triumph, with perhaps a touch of uncertainty.

“Marriage? But Gregory, we have known each other a little over two months. How can you… how can we know this is right.”

“Forgive me, Cheri, but I am a pragmatic man, no one lives forever, I do not have the time for tedious dating rituals … as if I were only ten years your senior. Let us marry. Provide me with an heir and I promise - in writing – to insure a lifetime of comfort. If you wish me to pay for an archeological dig in Burgundy or anywhere in the world, so be it.”

Lana said nothing, merely squeezed his hand, and then kissed it.

They were married by special license at the registrar’s office in Zurich. The ten minute ceremony was attended by only five people; Gregory and herself, the registrar and two DMG staff members. Not the most romantic way to begin, but he knew his new wife had plans forming for a lavish vow renewal ceremony and reception in Metropolis, one which her parents would approve of.

Suddenly he felt a warm body snuggle up next to him and whisper his name. Turning over, Gregory opened his blue eyes and they were ignited with passion and much more, perhaps even deep affection.

“Good morning …Mrs. Daae,” he murmured huskily and drew her to him.
Lana thought as their lips touched and the kiss deepened that soon, she had to call her parents to give them the news, before it was leaked to the media.

***

Lois mused as she sat at her desk that it had only taken a few days, but Aunt Rita had managed to locate the son of one of her former team members and promised to pass over any information she could glean from him. If Lois could get the name of someone who would be willing to talk on-the-record, the Daae investigation could begin in earnest. Speaking of talking, she needed to get Clark onboard, with the information Rita might provide it was time to get him involved in this investigation. Actually what was needed was a task force, between Jack, Stacy and her elusive partner she might be able to pull this into a series of articles worthy of a Kerth … if not a Pulitzer.

Briefly, her mind drifted to the early 20th century, female journalist Ida Minerva Tarbell, her groundbreaking series of articles in the now defunct magazine, McClure’s on Standard Oil shook the company to its knees. Eventually leading to the trust’s break-up into many companies. She contemplated whether this series of articles might have the same long range impact. It was one thing to do the research and quietly buttonhole confidential sources, but it was quite another to print the article and thereby kick over an international hornet’s nest.

Regardless of any misgivings, she was in a very real sense stepping into Miss Tarbell’s shoes and taking on a media company that sometimes operated very much like the old trusts of the past.
The clatter of typing and the drone of fax machines interrupted her thoughts. She could daydream about the Pulitzer, Kerths and old stories later, now she needed to find Kansas.

Now there was a surprise, she was willing to share to job of writing this series of articles not just with Clark, but with an intern research assistant and a budding photojournalist. Somewhere along the line Lois had changed, no longer content to work alone. She could definitely trace this change back to when she and Clark had started cooking for each other and Lana had left town.

Unfortunately since that last phone call to Lana he seemed, for lack of a better word - distracted. Regrettably, the Daily Planet did not pay him to be heartsick; she needed him focused and ready to work. Otherwise he was not the newspaperman she thought he was. As she stood up to begin searching for Clark, she noticed James Olsen exiting Perry’s office. <Oh good grief,> she thought <What does he want?>

***

Across town in the Luthor penthouse, the phone rang in Arianna’s elegantly appointed gray room, she picked up the receiver and upon hearing the voice on the other end her voice rang out happily,

“Alexandria! It’s been ages! How are you?”

Over kilometers of water and land, Arianna hear the clear cut French tones of her old school friend. Alexandria was one of the few people who knew she was still in love with Gregory Daae. “All is well here mon ami. Sadly, this is not a social call. There is news to be imparted and it shall not be pleasant to hear. It is about Gregory….”

Five minutes later Arianna thanked her friend for the information and bid her good-bye. Her ears burned with angry and shame, months ago she had thrown herself at Daae only to be humiliated by his refusal to take her into his arms. She was willing to accept seeing him on rare occasions for their very specific business, but he never encouraged her to think they could begin again once Lex was out of the picture. Now he had wounded her as deeply and as painfully as she had years previously …

She turned and seeing a beautiful crystal vase filled a bouquet of lovely roses, daisy poms, alstroemeria and Monte casino in shades of pink and purple on the sofa table. The flowers reminded her of their walks in Paris during the spring. A fresh stab of pain entered her heart. With almost maniacal strength she picked up the delicate vessel and hurled it against the wall. Water and delicate petals splattered everywhere and the sound of crystal shattering was heard throughout the penthouse. Seconds later, a frightened maid entered the room, with Nigel not far behind.

“Mrs. Luthor! Is everything all right?” The portly woman asked.
Arianna’s dark eyes laced with fury, stared at the woman, she said in icy British tones. “Clean up this mess.” Turning to Nigel she snapped, “What are you standing about for?”

Nigel, unperturbed by her behavior, said, “Merely looking after your well being, Mrs. Luthor.”

She glared at him for a moment; he bowed slightly at the waist and with characteristic silence, stepped out of the room and walked down the hallway.

“My …. well-being?” she whispered in a sad voice. “That state of mind is sadly out of reach when the man I love has married someone else.”

***

Templar was whistling happily in his office when Bonesteel entered, a thick file under his arm.

“Ah, good you’re here. Our employer will be returning in a few days. Is everything ready? Has Carpenter provided us with what we need?

“Yes sir. Mr. Carpenter had funds in the sum total of fifteen million dollars transferred to RoyalPoint accounts. We can begin purchasing the remaining stocks of LexCorp and DMG.”

“Excellent work Bonesteel. But don’t ever forget, there is no ‘we’ in this arrangement, only ‘me’. I doubt if Daae could trust a man with such a shady background handling his household accounts here in Metropolis, much less his media empire. Leave the report and go.”

Bonesteel very carefully placed the file on the right hand corner of the desk. His face was as calm and placid as a glass of ice water. He nodded and with dignified grace departed the office. Only seconds after the door closed did the phone ring. Templar snatched it off the cradle and barked into the receiver. “Yes!” Two minutes later he replaced the phone, a bewildered look scrawled across his face. “Mr. Daae takes a bride. Well, well, well this bit of news might have considerable impact on my plans.” he muttered. “Perhaps I should cultivate someone at the Metropolis Museum in case Mrs. Daae can be used in the future.”

***

James Olsen sat at his desk on the fifteenth floor of the Daily Planet building. The phone conversation he had just concluded was a happy one for the paper, now he had to deliver the news to Perry White. The young man looked around his office and thought of inviting Perry upstairs. He shook his head, dismissing that particular thought.

Since he had purchased the paper, he had had a number of changes made to the décor of the executive offices. Instead of the stiff, formal feeling that previously permeated the place, his designers had instilled a decidedly different, ‘downtown vibe’. As a result most of the ‘old guard’ made it a point to avoid the executive suite in general and his office particular.

No, he would go down there and meet with the editor on his own ground. Truth be told, James liked visiting the bullpen, it was the heart and soul of the paper. Still, he was not exactly crazy about delivering news like this to Perry, the editor was sure to balk, but that couldn’t be helped. So, decision made, James exited the office and made his way down the corridor to the elevator.

With a purposeful stride, James stepped off the elevator and into the dull roar of the newsroom; keyboards being banged on, news monitors droning in the background and the steady rattle of voices. A vibrant, colorful newspaper doing what it does best – report the news. The atmosphere shifted ever so slightly when everyone noticed that he had entered – no invaded – their hallowed space. One could feel the mental message jumping from one person to another. The ‘head suit’ had arrived. They were probably all wondering what he was doing down here.

James sighed internally, he was about to have a conversation with Perry White regarding two of his top reporters. One of them he knew was going to be extremely disappointed by the news he carried.
Perry came out of his office and greeted the younger man, “Mornin’ James, anything I can do for you?”

James smiled to himself; there was a hint of concern in Perry’s tone, with a slender shade of challenge. Trust this bear of a man to protect his beloved newsroom and its staff, even if it is from the owner coming down for a visit. “Let’s talk in your office; this should only take a few minutes.”

Once the two men had settled in their chairs, Perry got right to it. “So, what brings you down here?”

James held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, “I’m not trying to write questions for an interview, but my visit does have to do with Lex Luthor. About ten minutes ago the short list of reporters who will be allowed access to space station Archimedes was released.”

“I see.” Perry looked crestfallen, “The people at DMG/LNN did not think our newspaper was important enough to have one of our own on that list? Well, Elvis turned to producing when his voice failed. I guess we can accept this.”

“Oh no! We do have a reporter on that list! It’s just not the person everyone expected to go, but she is the best choice. It’s Science Editor Janet Owens, not Lois Lane. It was not a question of talent, but a question of expertise. Janet is a respected science journalist who is well known by many of EPRAD’s officials and scientists. Lois is an investigative reporter who works the city desk and has no background whatsoever in space exploration. We need someone who understands technical jargon and can clearly explain what’s going on up there without an interpreter.”

The expression on Perry’s face covered a range of emotions; from happiness to disappointment and everything in between. He thought, <Both women were excellent reporters, each adept in her chosen field of expertise. But James was right; Lois might have the savvy to get the job done, but not the knowledge. The poor kid was going to be crushed.>

As if he sensed the myriad of emotions that churned beneath the surface, James said, “Let me tell her Perry, no reason for you to be the bad guy.”

“No. This is the newsroom … my newsroom. I’ll tell them both at the same time.” He hesitated and then said, “Real decent offer to smooth things over with Lois. I appreciate it.”

James nodded, “Let me know how everything turns out.” With that, the publisher of the Daily Planet, opened the door and exited. He thought how fortunate he was not to be giving ‘Mad Dog’ Lane the bad news.

***

Catherine had just completed her story and sent it over to the group printer. She pulled the papers out of the bin and began looking it over. Suddenly she realized the material was not hers, but Peggy Becker’s latest column and quietly seethed. Once again her replacement had written up a full column and had not done any proper research on her subject. It was nearly 1:00pm and today’s evening edition deadline was looming. Constance Hunter would have to work overtime to double check her facts. This behavior had to stop. Also, one of the Daily Planet’s staff reporters was mentioned in the story. Nothing bad in itself, but it might put Carl Fiske in a tenuous position.

She walked over to Peggy’s desk and said, “Have you checked over the information in this article?”

Peggy, a bleached blonde with a high-pitched nasal voice snapped, “No time to chat! The ambassador to Amir is in town and I understand he’s dating the tennis star, Korrine Vanger. I gotta get down to the Lexor before they leave for dinner. You seen Jack around here? I need pix to go with the story.”

The one person in the bullpen Jack despised more than Ralph Lombard – if that was possible - was Peggy. Catherine suspected she would want him to work for her on an assignment but the young man had skipped out of the office to do an errand for Steve in sports.

“Jack! Where are you?” Peggy shouted again as she snaked around Catherine and headed for the ramp.

But Catherine, determined not to be ignored followed her, “Hey! I’m serious! Did Fiske actually say this? I happen to know
Councilman Deatz and running off to a downtown hotel with his secretary in the middle of the afternoon for a tryst is pretty strong stuff! We could get into a lot of trouble.”

Peggy called over her shoulder, “That’s your problem Grant, always worrying about everybody else’s work, what, are you bucking for, Perry’s job? I’ve already got his quote, why talk to Fiske again?”

“Who wants to talk to me?” A middle-aged man wearing an ill fitting dark gray suit asked as he walked down the ramp. He was holding a white Styrofoam cup of coffee and was lazily stirring it with his index finger.

“I don’t, but Miss High-and-Mighty Grant wants to talk to you about Councilman Deatz and his secretary. You know, how they spent some ‘quality time’ together at a hotel downtown?” Peggy said, her voice dripping with double meaning.

Fiske stopped stirring the coffee and said with panic rising in his voice, “Wait a second, Councilman Deatz and his wife were at that hotel raising money for autistic kids. Afterwards they spent some quality time together. You mistook what I said! Please tell me that story didn’t get filed?”

“Oh no, I…I didn’t.” Peggy said, suddenly the high winds of arrogance were completely blown out of her sails.

The relief on Carl’s face was evident for all to see. “Thank goodness! She was ‘acting’ as his secretary, since his real secretary had to leave work due to a family emergency. Mrs. Deatz has lost fifty pounds, lightened her hair and updated her wardrobe. She looks twenty years younger! Listen Becker; don’t ever ask me for a quote again if you can’t get the facts straight!” He turned to Catherine, “Thanks for stepping in. She would have gotten me into a lotta hot water!” With those words, Carl ambled over to his desk, loudly slurping his coffee.

Peggy snarled and went back to her desk, muttering darkly.
From behind Catherine she heard a familiar voice say, “Peggy missed another opportunity for throwing the Daily Planet into a lawsuit?”

“Yes, but I wonder how much longer before she does something that embroils this entire newspaper into a very ugly legal case.”

Catherine sighed, shaking her head. Something caught her eye and she said, “Lois, Perry’s waving for you to come into the office, apparently Janet’s already in there.”

“Hmm, I wonder what’s up? James Olsen was in there awhile ago.” She looked at her friend and said, “The space station! I’ll bet those guys over at DMG/LNN finally made a decision about which reporters will be doing the initial coverage.” Lois fairly ran into Perry’s office, her face shining with excitement.

***

Ten minutes later a crestfallen Lois emerged from Perry’s office with Janet Owens, the two women stepped just outside of the office and gave each other a hug. Perry watched on, his face displaying a mixture of paternal pride and sadness.

“Lois, I wish we could both go.” Janet said sincerely.

The younger woman sighed deeply and said, “Perry’s right, the assignment should be given to the journalist with the best expertise. Besides, the officials at EPRAD know Janet Owens, not Lois Lane. Get home and tell the whole family. Hug Mike, my love to the girls and pet Shadow for me.”

Janet nodded, “Will do on all counts. Thanks again Perry.” With that she bounded up the stairs and headed for the elevator. She had a lot to do before leaving for EPRAD and astronaut training, the launch was set for six months from now.

It was a very different Lois who walked over to her desk and sat down, she was deeply disappointed, but knew in her heart the best qualified reporter got the assignment. A quick glance at Clark’s desk revealed that not surprisingly, it was empty. “Rats! Doesn’t that guy ever stick around? Well, if I can’t go into space covering the construction of space station Archimedes, then I better get to work on more ‘earthbound’ stories.”

Just then she looked up and saw her partner walking down the ramp and straightening one of his crazy colored ties, “Hey Clark! Where have you been?”

Not missing a beat he replied, “Checking out a story not too far from my own neighborhood. Apparently one of the local pawn shops was running a fencing operation for high-end jewelry. Inspector Henderson was happy to get the tip and the bust. I just came back from the precinct. This story has to be typed up before Perry comes out of his office.”

“Great! When you get finished we need to meet in the conference room. I …I need your help.” Even though he was her friend and occasional partner, it was still hard to use the word, ‘help’ around him or anyone.

Suddenly worried, he approached her and said with a touch of unease.

“Is everything all right Lois? What can I do? Do you need a loan until payday?”

She couldn’t help but laugh gently at the sincere concern on his face,

“Oh no, not that kind of help! I’m working on an important….” She stopped, looked around and said. “Let’s not discuss it here. Look, get that story written up, than we can talk.”

Less than thirty minutes later Clark joined Lois in the conference room.

“So what’s this mystery all about?” He asked in conspiratorial tones.

She studied him carefully and wondered for the hundredth time if he was the supportive work partner Bobby Bigmouth had suggested she needed. With a mental shrug she began, “Clark, I have been working on an in-depth investigative story that if it is published will be a series of articles. This piece has been a work in progress almost as long as I have been at the Daily Planet. Eduardo helped me for awhile and even after he went to work for our London office he was still able to provide material that has shaped the European background of the account. Unfortunately, whenever I get close to someone who can corroborate the story, something happens. But it’s possible a new source has surfaced and I might finally be able to have the thin edge of the wedge to crack this story open. So do you want to help?”

He worked hard not to laugh; his lovely partner was in full babble mode. His voice was devoid of humor when he said, “Of course Lois, whatever you need. Who or what is this story about?” Clark said as he sipped his coffee.

“You might be familiar with him; the European media mogul and Lex Luthor’s new business partner, Mr. Gregory Daae.”

He almost coughed up the warm liquid “Whoa! That had better be some serious information! Daae is not exactly a light weight in the media world!”

“It is! I was going to write a story about him nearly three years ago, but it was bumped when my sources dried up. We can discuss that later on. Hey how about coming over to my apartment and you can go over the material I have. Than we can put together a game plan on how to tackle this story. What do you say?”

He rubbed his chin and thought warily about spending another evening alone with his beautiful colleague and said somewhat half heartedly,

“Uh …not this evening, I have a lot of irons in the fire right now.”

“Oh come on Clark, how long can this research take? Besides, if my new source pans out this story could not only net us a Kerth, it can also put us in the running for a Pulitzer. Just think of if, Lane and Kent, nominated for a Pulitzer!”

Her enthusiasm was contagious; he smiled and said, “Uh huh, Lois Lane would never be satisfied with the nomination, only winning the prize would ever do.”

Her eyes lit up, “So you’ll do it?”

Gazing into those beautiful brown eyes sparkling with excitement that he could never resist he thought to himself, <I shouldn’t be doing this. But she’s my partner, who might need protection if Mr. Daae gets wind of what we are doing.>

“Ok Lois. We can pick up a pizza on the way.”

Lois pumped her fist in the air and said, “Yes!”

***

By the time they arrived at her door, the long shadows of early evening stretched throughout the apartment. Lois entered first, after nosily opening the myriad of locks on her door. She held her ubiquitous briefcase under her arm and in her left hand was a paper bag holding cold bottles of soda - diet root beer for her and a coke for him. Right behind was Clark, carrying a hot sausage, cheese and pepperoni pizza and a crisp white dessert bag from her favorite neighborhood Italian restaurant, Lubrano’s. The fragrant, spicy aroma of basil, garlic and oregano filled the air.

Lady Plushbottom came bounding out of the bedroom, anxious to greet her owner and ready for her portion of pizza. She danced around Clark’s legs as he placed the white cardboard box on the kitchen table. Quick as a wink, Lady P pounced on the table with an audible thud and laid a heavy paw on the box. She meowed loudly claiming ownership to the contents within.

“Shoo kitty! This is our supper! Beat it!” Lois said in an attempt to get the cubby kitty away from the box.

“That’ll never work! She knows a good thing when she smells it!” Clark said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, well I’m hungry too! She’ll just have to wait her turn!” With that Lois swept the loudly protesting furball off the table and deposited her on the couch.

Properly chastised, Lady Plushbottom meowed again, flicked her fluffy grey and white tail in annoyance and then tucked herself on the edge of the couch. Intense, blue eyes watched and waited for a chance to strike. Meanwhile Lois excused herself and went into her bedroom to change into clothing suitable for working and comfort.

“Do you want ice in your glass for the soda?” Clark called out as he rummaged around her kitchen. At this point in their friendship he was quite familiar with its layout and the cupboards contents.

“Yes, please!” She responded from the bedroom.

Grabbing plates and silverware he quickly set the table. Lois came out wearing black jeans and a gray MetroU t-shirt, tight enough to show she was a woman, but loose enough for her to be a lady. For all that, Clark couldn’t help sneaking a few close looks at her. He quietly sighed, remembering she was still his friend and partner. Besides, wasn’t he planning on asking Lana to marry him? He had already purchased the modest diamond ring and was only waiting for her to return home so he could ask her. He firmly put all sensual thoughts about his companion aside while placing the bakery bag with their dessert in the fridge.

Forcing his voice to be cheerful, he called out, “Last one in gets a cold slice!” Quickly, he zapped the pie to give it a little warmth.
Coming up behind him, Lois giggled, sat down and took a hearty slice.

“Oh, this is perfect!” She exclaimed between bites. “Lubrano’s makes the best pizza and Pumpkin cheesecake!”

For a good fifteen minutes they chatted and ate, and then Lois started pulling files from the depths of her briefcase and several more from a locked file drawer in her desk. Clark looked on in astonishment as she carefully arranged the larger accordion files on the coffee table which were broken down by year and months. Some of the files were marked by separate dates. When she was finished, fifteen large files and their contents covered the coffee table, the other couch and finally spilled onto the floor.

Looking at the display of papers he remarked, “Lois! There’s enough material here to write a novel, forget about three columns of type on the front page!”

Her small, delicate fingers tapped the manila folders impatiently,

“Yeah, well, I’ve been working on this story for a few years now, its required hours of meticulous research and interviewing people who are too scared to go on public record against this guy. The subject is not very happy being under media scrutiny he doesn’t control. In fact, I’ll bet he gets a real kick out of controlling and even altering the course of a person’s life just because he has the power to do so!”

Clark nodded thoughtfully, usually Lois only babbled when either frightened, angry or confused. This was something different, almost like pain. He gestured to the piles before them and softly asked,

“What’s driving you to bring this man down Lois?”

Lois’s face stilled, taking on a contemplative expression, she was about to reveal something of a deeply, personal nature.

“During my second year at Metro U the school was honored to have for one semester as a guest instructor, Luka Brunner.”

Clark ears perked up instantly upon recognizing the name. “He was a force in German newspaper publishing. He was a very young reporter, one of a few that stood up to Hitler before the war and somehow, by a miracle, managed to escape out of the country with his family.”

Her head nodded, the waves of long dark hair falling gently around her face. “Exactly. After the war he returned from Switzerland and helped rebuild their newspaper industry. He was a fantastic reporter, editor and publisher, a man who believed in telling the truth. I read everything I could about him. He was one of my heroes!”

“Oh? You mean there’s someone besides baseball player and sometime writer, Christy Matthewson you idolize?” He gently teased.

She blushed prettily and Clark felt his heart leap, never in all their time together had he been on such intimate terms with her.

“Well, you got me there; it’s painfully obvious I had a genuine crush on Mr. Matthewson!”

He looked into those perfectly shaped eyes, sparkling with the memory of her infatuation with the baseball legend. A terrible thought invaded his mind, how he wished she would look at him like that! Shaking himself mentally he decided to get her back on safer ground and asked, “How were his lectures and classes?”

“Oh! You should have heard them! Wickedly funny, but very insightful, he told us about writing articles before computers! Boy, we should be grateful we don’t have to use messy carbon paper! I especially remember his definition of journalism which is considered by many to be the standard. ‘Journalism is a process of inquiry and literary method used in social and cultural design. It serves the purpose of playing the role of a public service – by distributing news and information to inform and educate.’”

“I remember reading that in my textbooks. He was quite an icon.” Clark said thoughtfully.

“Yes, he was. Many days after the lectures he invited some of us to his home and we enjoyed hours of discussions and some pretty lively debates. I remember during one of those visits Linda King asked him how he was able to stand up to people like Hitler and overcome other adversities during his long career.”

Clark sat very quietly, he knew enough about the infamous rivalry to know Linda King’s name never crossed her lips unless it was absolutely necessary.

“He said people like Hitler were a bunch of eidechse or lizards, who would swallow everything whole if we did not stand up to them. Clark, I like to think with my stories and investigations I help take down such people. Luka had great wisdom and insight, in many ways; he helped to shape me into the writer I am today.”
Nodding sagely, Clark added respectfully, “He helped shape a lot of us.”

“When the semester ended he and his wife returned to Munich, where he ran one of the most influential weekly newspapers in Berlin. This was a newspaper Daae wanted, but Luka refused to sell. That didn’t sit well with Daae. He did some pretty underhanded tricks to undermine Luka’s reputation. Many people were loyal to him, but the rumors and lies spread about Luka’s ability to run a newspaper due to his age were beginning to have a nasty backlash. Try as he might, the new media company, DMG was too powerful for him. Eventually, he sold his beloved newspaper for pennies on the dollar and then watched as Daae dismantled it. He fired everyone over the age of forty, sent the reminder to his different magazines; and then sold the printeries, equipment and the building that housed it.”

Shocked by the media mogul’s callous behavior Clark said, “How did you find out about it?”

“One of my business acquaintances in Europe phoned me to say Luka Brunner had died. The doctors all said it was from overwork and exhaustion. Those of us who were aware of the struggle that Luka put up against DMG always attributed it to a broken heart. It was one of the saddest days in my life. He was a strong person and yet he was destroyed simply because he didn’t want Daae to take over his first love … the newspaper.”

The only sound heard was Lady Plushbottom’s loud and persistent purring. During Lois’s narrative the chubby feline had jumped into Clark’s lap and gave no indication of moving.

Finally Clark said, “I respect your determination to track down all the evidence and bring Daae to justice. Whatever assistance I can render as your partner … and friend, I’m willing to do, you can’t fight this man alone, especially not with all his resources.”
“He’s a dragon.” Lois said tightly.

Perplexed by the word, Clark said, “Uh, I beg your pardon? What about eidechse?”

“Gregory Daae, Lex Luthor and yes, even Arianna are all like dragons, much more deadly than a lizard. Luka was right, it’s up to everyone to fight against such persons, and otherwise all our freedoms are lost.” Her voice at once strong and defiant suddenly became very uncertain. “Sometimes … sometimes I look at the folders, notes and files and wonder if Gregory Daae can be taken down. I mean, Luka Brunner was smart, experienced and tough, yet he failed. I’ve worked on this story for years and just when I get a break something goes wrong. If we go forward this time we can’t fail. Luka Brunner and all the people Daae has hurt over the years deserve much better.”

She heard his words as if from far away tickle around her ears, “Never doubt yourself Miss Lane, I don’t.” Clark said in a husky whisper.

“I … we are going up against an extremely powerful dragon. This is going to test, not only our journalistic abilities, but unless my evidence is bulletproof, the Daily Planet could suffer one helluva lawsuit. One we might not be able to come back from.” Lois said

“True, Daae is not a crooked art dealer or car thief, but we are all behind you. Perry, Jack, and the whole newsroom staff, we all think you are the best.”

She looked at him with a lopsided grin, “Yeah, I must be good and getting really close to the truth, otherwise, why would someone try to kill me?”

A shocked expression ran across Clark’s face, “Hey, don’t say that! Not even kidding around. You mean a great deal to me … er us. I’m not going to let anything or anyone hurt my partner and friend.”

Partner.

That word again. Yes, she had thought they could make a go of it, but maybe there was more to his words than their work relationship. She gazed, strong and proud, into Clark’s deep, brown eyes, she thought <God, he’s so handsome and attractive. Why am I resisting him? Besides, Lana doesn’t care about him. We would be so good, so right together.>

As if by unspoken agreement they moved towards each other. Clark completely forgot about the large furry mass currently sleeping on his lap. Lady P gave out an involuntary cry, a cross between a meow and a squawk. The humans ignored her hisses and meows. Annoyed, she wiggled out of his lap, tumbled to the floor and waddled as fast as her short legs could take her to the kitchen and her water dish. Clark moved closer, his strong large fingers curled around her smaller ones. “We are just the team to do it. We are stronger together than apart. Lois ...?”

“Yes … Clark …?” she responded with an equally husky whisper.

The atmosphere within the apartment seemed to crackle with tension like a thing alive. The environment, the very air of the room seemed to compress down to the two of them sitting intimately on Lois’s couch, so dangerously close to each other. Awkwardly at first, like nervous teen-agers, their lips touched and the delicateness of the union was oh so sweet. Clark’s relationship with Lana, Lois’s bitter memories of betrayal by Claude melted into nothingness as they gave into the heady maelstrom of heat and passionate emotions. Their discussion to bring down Gregory Daae utterly forgotten.

The emotions that flowed through Clark were overwhelming as their lips and bodies clung together, touching, exploring and wanting. Their desire drawing them closer to a line that when crossed could not be denied. His thoughts fell like shattered pottery into disarray, even the serenity of flight was pitiful besides the strength of the attraction he had for the beautiful woman with doe-like brown eyes by his side. Lana’s blue eyes were often cold and distant, they did not appeal to him as Lois’s did.

Lana’s blue eyes…

<Oh no! What am I doing?> he thought, <Lana! I’m going to ask her to marry me!>

He broke the kiss and stammered out. “Maybe … I’d better go.” He stood up like a scorched cat and began gathering his things.

“What? Why?” Lois surprised, gasped out.

The words tumbled over his lips in a torrent, “Why? You deserve my respect and professionalism. Please accept my apology Lois; this … this entire situation is my fault. I should never have disrespected my relationship with Lana. You're my friend and I ignored that for a while and let things go farther than they should. I've enjoyed our nights of cooking and working together but we cannot meet at our apartments to work ever again."

“Oh,” Lois said, her voice sounded distant and a little hollow. “Well … thanks for helping with my research. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Only five minutes ago these two people were on the verge of something deeply intimate and special. Now they were farther apart than ever before. The air, only moments ago was tinged with sensual excitement, now felt tainted with confusion and sadness.

“Lois, are we OK? I … I really have appreciated dinner tonight. It’s just … just.” He ran his hands through his hair feeling shameful and at a loss for words. “What I did was wrong. I’m in a committed relationship with someone I’ve known all my life. I shouldn’t have acted like this tonight … or any night.”

“Oh, no problem,” Lois said, working hard to keep her voice calm and even. “Call Lana tonight, she’ll probably be waiting by the phone, eager to hear your voice.” Lois’s back was ramrod straight as she walked over to the door and unlocked it, clearly indicating their personal time together was at an end. “Thanks again for everything Kansas, let’s pick up on the Daae research tomorrow … at the Planet.”

His heart sank, she was angry and much worse embarrassed, by what might have happened between them. Humiliated, he walked past her, feeling the heat of furious eyes boring into his back. The door closed firmly behind him. Alone, he ran down the stairs and outside faster than the human eye could follow.

“Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” Lois muttered darkly under her breath. She gathered up the dinner plates, glasses and pizza box and then carried them into the kitchen. It took only minutes to clean the debris of the evening. <That’s exactly what it is … debris. He … he must really love her.> Teardrops slid like velvet down her cheeks. <What do I do tomorrow? Ignore him?>

Deeply disappointed by her callow behavior and saddened by the evening’s end, she took a hot shower, changed into her favorite pajamas, turned off the lights and crawled into bed. The quiet of the night and the coolness of her sheets soothed her a little. Her mind took a strange path; there was nothing quieter or cooler than an old maid’s bedroom. Was that where her future lay? To be alone for the rest of her life?

She couldn’t worry about that now. No matter what had happened between them tonight she was going to behave like an adult and deal with Clark Kent as she should have done from the beginning … at a distance. Still for another hour she tossed and turned, thoughts accelerating back and forth in her mind like a dirty, badly abused tennis ball. Finally the battle lost, she fumbled in the darkness for the phone and punched in the numbers long etched in her memory.

“Hello,” a woman’s voice, thick with sleep, came over the phone.
Slowly, the tight lump in her throat loosened enough for her to speak through her tears, “Mommy … you were right.”

***

Two weeks had passed and Lois and Clark had managed somehow to push their personal feelings aside. The evening at her apartment was never mentioned and slowly but surely they worked toward rebuilding and maintaining their professional relationship. But gone was the easy camaraderie, in its place was a formal, sometimes stiff behavior between them. Lois resumed dressing in her ‘power’ suits again; they acted like armor against her innermost feelings. Besides, like the rest of the bullpen staff, she was no longer chasing after ‘The Haze’ but was concentrating her efforts on other stories, but still working on exposing Daae.

Clark went back to wearing some of his older, more casual business clothes, including some of his most outrageous ties. They worked quietly together in the conference room, slowly piecing together the information Eduardo had provided, but still they needed someone to hand them a smoking gun.

Several of their co-workers recognized the change; Catherine had asked her friend twice to talk about what had happened, but Lois steadfastly refused to discuss it.

It was late afternoon and more than a few of the newsroom staff were winding down for the day. Clark hung up the phone; he had attempted numerous times in the past two weeks to reach Lana. She had moved out of her hotel, but continued to call him; apparently the hunt for the last item on the museum’s list was still on. He wanted to find out exactly when she was coming home. He had purchased a simple one carat, pear shaped diamond ring in a gold setting and was ready to propose.

In the background one of the national entertainment magazines was playing on the monitor. Glenda Rojas was reading news about the latest Hollywood scandal. Like the rest of the bullpen he had long since tuned out that kind of soft reporting and only listened when real news was on. The news cycle was changing to a different story, the scene showed an overview of an oddly familiar corridor in Larkin Airport.

“Hello everyone, this is Shana McDaniels reporting from International arrivals wing at Larkin Airport. Lex Luthor has returned from his latest business trip in Europe visiting with DMG and continuing to work on creating the news channel which will report on progress of Space Station Archimedes. He is accompanied by his business partner Gregory Daae and his elegant new bride, Lana Lang-Daae.”

One by one all normal sounds ceased, conversations were either halted or shushed into stunned silence. Clark’s face grew flush with shock as he felt half the eyes of the newsroom on the monitors and the other half staring pointedly at him.

Ms. McDaniels, eager to get the first interview with the new couple approached, and pushed a microphone in their faces. Daae gave a glacial stare at the device, stoically tolerated the interruption of their progress. Lana, thoroughly excited by the attention, smiled prettily for the camera. Her dress was the color of autumn, which worked perfectly to show off a tanned complexion and slightly curvy petite figure.

The reporter gushed, “Mrs. Lang-Daae you certainly are radiant! Matrimony suits you. Please, tell the audience how you were able to snag one of the most eligible bachelors in Europe?”

Lana took the microphone in her left hand, so that everyone could see the glittering engagement ring and wedding band on the all important digit. Gazing at her new husband and trying to suppress a wide grin of pride she responded, “Love comes when we least expect it. Gregory and I started spending time together and the rest is as they say history!” She said triumphantly.

Clark’s special hearing picked up Catherine’s comment, mumbled darkly under her breath, “Oh spare me!”

Ms. McDaniels smiled at the insipid remark and added one of her own,
“All of Europe is buzzing about the ‘Daae Look’, designers as different as Versace and Chanel are lining up to do your bidding!”

“I can’t speak about what the fashion world is saying! But we are planning on renewing our wedding vows here in Metropolis. As you know, we were married in Zurich last month but my father deserves to walk his daughter down the aisle. I’ve already chosen my gown – the designer’s name is a secret! The invitations will be mailed out shortly. Perhaps we will see you there!” Handing the microphone back to the reporter, Lana took her husband’s hand and quickly walked away.

Lex stood in the background trying unsuccessfully to mask his annoyance at the reporter’s dual blunders; her intrusion to their progress through the corridor and ignoring him. Once again, Daae had managed to steal the spotlight from him. No one wanted to hear about the progress on their space news channel now that Mrs. Daae had taken center stage. She would be the ‘Belle of Metropolis’ until the wedding, effectively eclipsing Arianna’s social position.

Someone groaned, “It must be a slow news day! I cannot believe that little wench!”

“Which one?” Diane said caustically. “The airhead reporter or her thoughtless subject?”

“Both.” Jack responded.

“Ha!” Ralph crowed with malicious glee. “Even guys like Kent can’t pick em!” Any further comment was abruptly halted when Stacy accidently, dropped her water bottle on his foot. It was the only sound heard in the newsroom.

Peggy Becker broke the silence by sitting down and pounding on her keyboard. Catherine looked up when she heard the noise and went over to her desk.

“What are you writing? It’s awfully early to get a jump on tomorrow’s column?” Catherine asked innocently.

She practically laughed while typing, “It may be tomorrow’s column, but I’ve definitely got the inside scoop today! Imagine Mrs. Daae throwing over her boyfriend, a journalist for the Daily Planet, in favor of a billionaire! Perry – and Metropolis will be happy to read about it!”

Catherine bent down and in a low, angry voice whispered, “If there is even a hint about Clark Kent in that column or anyplace else, I will make it my personal business to see you are bounced from this newsroom so hard you’ll wish you had never heard of the Daily Planet. That young man’s private life is not fodder for the citizens of Metropolis.”

“It’s news! I’ve got a job to do!” she said, the volume of her nasal voice rising.

“Helping to break an innocent man’s heart is not part of this job!” Catherine hissed, her green eyes flashing severely.

Something about Catherine’s body language convinced the gossip columnist it would be in her best interest to stop typing.

Lois caught her breath in shock; the paper she had held in her hand was crumpled. Clark was loyal to Lana, despite what had happened on the couch at her place. She respected his determination to step back on and stay on the straight and narrow path … notwithstanding her own desires to the contrary. How could anyone be so insensitive? She heard a loud thunk and tearing her eyes away from the monitor and looking over at Clark’s desk she noticed, not surprisingly, that Lana’s picture was in the garbage can, the glass within the frame shattered, and his chair was spinning, he had disappeared from the newsroom.