Part Thirteen
Bile rose in Clark’s throat, but with an effort he held it down. Lana never did anything without a reason. From what he knew of Daae, she shouldn’t cross him by visiting her ‘ex-boyfriend’. With an effort he composed himself and said, “How did you know I was coming home? Also, how did you locate and enter my apartment? After all, you did get married before I could show you the place.”
A glimmer of genuine concern appeared momentarily in Lana’s eyes; unfortunately as quickly as it appeared, it vanished. He got the impression that for all her self-confidence; she was uncomfortable being alone with him.
Preparing to do battle, she straightened her back and said brusquely, “My call to Pete didn’t go very well, he told me you were in Smallville, but not where. He did mention that you had a place and even gave me the address. It’s unlikely Joe would have room for a houseguest, so Irig’s was the best choice. I called there from my car; as soon as Mary Irig knew who I was she couldn’t hang up fast enough. So, I drove over here and decided to wait.” She held up a lone silver key, tossed it to him, which Clark easily caught and placed it on the bookshelf. “Really Clark, hiding a key in the planter out front is the first place a decent thief would look. You don’t live in Kansas anymore.”
Determined not to be rattled by her reproof, Clark folded his arms defensively and said, “What will your husband think if he discovers you were here?”
Her chin jutted upwards, a gesture of defiance. “Nothing at all, especially since Gregory is aware I’m visiting you. He … we feel it is important to ‘clear the air’.”
“Really? I think that was accomplished already in Zurich and then at the airport when you announced your marriage. You cleared me completely out of your life! When we were on the phone all the time you were in Europe, why did you lie to me?”
Lana’s pretty face twisted and she spoke sharply, “I never lied. There were a number of business contacts that had to be made in order to acquire the pieces necessary for the exhibit. Gregory helped me accomplish that task. Without his connections, locating those pieces and the Napoleon camp chair would have been close to impossible.”
“So, let me get this straight, over the course of a few weeks while ‘pursuing’ these pieces for the Napoleon exhibit the two of you ‘fell in love’?”
“Yes,” she responded flatly.
Clark studied his former girlfriend carefully; he knew her body language well enough to be aware when she was lying. But this time all the obvious physical cues - such as an erratic heartbeat - were missing. Could it be possible she was telling the truth? He sighed, shook his head and sat down on the couch, gesturing for her to join him. Lana did so; the gentle swish of her silk skirt was a soothing sound in an otherwise tense atmosphere. Clark noted she was careful to seat herself as far away from him as possible. Then she carefully placed her left hand on top of the right so he could clearly see the large diamond engagement ring and wedding band. He thought of the simple, dazzling diamond in the gold setting he purchased a week ago, realized it was meager in comparison and mentally sighed. Uncle Wayne was right; she was more interested in material things than sharing a life with him.
His previous trepidation that she might be afraid of his super strength came to mind. Despite all she had done to him, she had to understand he would never harm her or anyone. Then he comprehended, Lana wasn’t afraid of him. She was a newly married woman alone with a man and was keenly aware of that fact; perhaps she did have deep feelings for Daae.
“Look, whatever games that are going on between you and your husband, keep them to yourselves. Lana, what happened in Zurich cannot be undone.” He ran his long fingers through jet black hair, weighing carefully his next words. “But please understand … Gregory Daae is a dangerous, ruthless man. He uses his media empire to bring about whatever he wishes … and he’s destroyed people’s lives. I’m not saying this to get back at you. I have proof…”
“What proof?” She snapped, “My husband is a businessman! In business, people – incompetent people – get hurt. Gregory is not incompetent.”
“Come on Lana! Don’t tell me that! Not everyone is incompetent! What about the innocent bystanders?” His voice went soft and then he said, “What about people like … me?”
She bolted upright, her conscience for the first time had been pricked, “Are you inferring my marriage is a cheap business arrangement? That you are collateral damage from that arrangement?”
This conversation was quickly getting out of hand, he needed to regain control. “You have to admit it looks strange. Nearly two months ago Lana Lang - my girlfriend - went to Switzerland for work and returned married to one of the wealthiest men in Europe. All the plans and dreams we had were swept out of existence.”
She folded her arms and sat back down on the couch’s arm and in a tightly controlled voice spoke again. It seemed to Clark she was talking more to herself than him. “Those … dreams are gone. Like I told you the night I found out about the trip. You, Pete and I have come a long way from Smallville and there’s no turning back to that existence. No matter what feelings I might have had for you in the past, now my life is with Gregory.”
Dumbfounded, Clark could not believe she was beyond all reason; surely Daae wasn’t that good an actor, hiding his true self. He needed to understand her purpose for being here, “Lana, why did you really come to my apartment tonight?”
Her blue eyes, always so intense, studied him and when she answered; her voice was now as brittle as freshly formed lake ice. “Two reasons actually; first I want closure. Our relationship – on every possible level - is over. Even though you and I were never …lovers, I don’t want Gregory to have any reason for concern; after all … he is my husband.”
Lana was excluding him from her life, and there would be no way to protect her from the fallout, should he and Lois manage to get the proof they needed to print their series of articles. Despite all she had done, they had once been friends, very good friends actually. Could he really just allow her to remain in a lion’s den of trouble and heartbreak? Sadly, if she refused to listen was there any other choice?
Clark nodded stiffly, “What’s the second reason?”
She studied her exquisitely lacquered pink fingernails; the expensive manicure probably cost more than what most museum assistants made in a day. He recognized the sign; she was feeling more at ease, more in control of the situation. “Even before returning from Europe, I’ve been hearing about a series of ‘incidents’ around the city. The accounts vary, but they all agree on one thing: a ‘haze’ of motion and sound. Nothing will stop you from being a do-gooder, so I also need to distance myself from Clark Kent ... would-be superhero.”
His self-control slipped and angry words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, “I can no more stop helping people, than you could stay out of that man’s bed!”
As if he had stuck her, she flinched, stood up and prepared to leave. “That remark was uncalled for! We were married before I let him touch me!”
Suddenly his face burned with shame, it wasn’t like him to lash out as if he were a pimply-faced adolescent breaking up with his first crush. Yet, Lana displayed not the slightest regret about hurting him. Shouldn’t he strike back and let her know just how badly her actions had pained him? Out of the blue, something his parents had told him long ago, something about meekness did not necessarily mean he was weak. That under the right circumstances, kindness, compassion and courage could sometimes break a bone.
He needed to be the better man, but he wanted to ask an important question and then this fierce, perfectly attired stranger needed to depart forever from his life. Lana picked up her purse, hand-crafted of the finest Italian leather, it was so new and he could still smell the vegetable-tanning oils. She turned and walked up the stairs to his door, out of his apartment and his life.
“Good night Clark.” The words came out of her mouth more like an edict than a final farewell between former sweethearts.
He looked up at the ceiling took a deep breath and closed his eyes, “Wait, before you go, there’s only one final question for me to ask.”
By the way she held her shoulders, a hint of the old Lana surfaced, and she did not turn but said, “Yes?”
“Were you ever in love with me? Was I just an extra ticket to get you out of Smallville in case no college answered your resume?”
She bowed her head, the voice soft as a feather blowing in the breeze, “Isn’t the question rather moot now?”
He spoke to her back, “No, it’s important for me to know.”
“Yes.”
Clark felt his knees weakened. He no longer had any claim to her, but perhaps she might accept his help. Before he could say another word, she continued.
“But you were never strong enough Clark, never willing to take risks. The kind of strength I wanted from you - for us - was to be a force to be reckoned with … without using your powers. I wanted a husband who could provide more than just a ‘good life’ for our family. We should have been one of the fabulous young professional couples in Metropolis. You’re a good reporter Clark, someday you are going to be one of the best, but print journalism won’t get us where we should have been. Don’t worry about your secret, it’s safe with me. I will never betray you in that regard. That much I can promise you. Good-bye, Clark.”
She said all that without turning to face him. In anguished silence, he watched as she walked to the door, opened it and stepped into the night.
***
The following day Clark returned to the newsroom. His conversation with Lana the previous evening had put aside any hope of their maintaining even as polite acquaintances. She was Mrs. Daae now.
He moved down the ramp and walked over to his desk, it was good to be back. Quickly he booted his computer into life, took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and got into the rhythm of working on a story idea.
One by one, his co-workers came over and welcomed him back to the bullpen; Steve patted him on the back, trying to say with the physical gesture what his words could never express. Catherine greeted him with a smile, squeezed his forearm and went back to her desk. Elsie from the Re-write Department, a grandmotherly woman who looked after many of the young reporters as if they were her own children, brought over a steaming mug of coffee and a fresh vanilla cream donut from Lucille’s bakery downstairs. Without a word she placed the offerings in front of him and went back to her office.
Clark was deeply touched by the genuine concern and little gestures of comfort his friends and co-workers bestowed upon him. Everyone that mattered came over, everyone that is except the lovely woman who was his work partner.
Lois held back and watched from her desk, she was proud of the newsroom staffers; everyone was trying to show they sympathized and would be there for him. She worked for the best newspaper and with the best people in the world. When the time was right, they would talk, for now he had to regain his footing.
***
Across town, at the office of DMG, US Division, Stephanie Aronnax entered her office suite; she was carrying a white, wax bakery bag. The sweet buttery aroma of freshly baked croissant floated out of the bag and filled the office. She was surprised to see Jasper Templar’s associate in the suite, using her personal copier. “Good morning Mr. Bonesteel, is there anything I can do to help you?”
The man, who was normally so proper, fairly jumped out of his skin when he heard Mrs. Aronnax approach.
“No ma’am, not at all.” His large ears were bright red as he smoothed down his perfectly straight tie in an attempt to calm himself.
“Very well, but I was wondering why you are using my personal copy machine, after all this is Mr. Daae’s executive suite. Do you need something from him?”
“Ah yes, I do. Mr. Templar gave me this file with his weekly updates for Mr. Daae. Please, could you give them to him? I am already late for an appointment.” He handed the familiar green folder to her, while another file, marked with the initial ‘R’ remained firmly in his possession, he nodded his head slightly and walked away.
“Intriguing.” She looked at the copier and checked the settings, then smiled to herself. She went back to her desk and turned on her computer which was linked to the copier. A new innovation this particular machine had that only she knew about. The menu came up and she scrolled through until the words: Document Retrieval appeared on the screen. All the copied documents from yesterday and today came into view, “Ah, that’s the one Mr. Bonesteel was copying. It looks like an expenditure spreadsheet for a company called RoyalPoint Financials.”
She was so intent on studying the document that she failed to hear Daae enter his office suite. “Good morning Mrs. Aronnax, from the scent of butter you have just returned from my favorite bakery. I trust all went smoothly in my absence?”
Without giving away her own surprise, his administrative assistant looked up from her computer monitor, “For the most part sir, the company has been running quite smoothly. Daily correspondence is on the desk arranged by date; weekly updates on your various interests with Mr. Templar are there as well. This is the latest update; Mr. Bonesteel brought it up only five minutes ago.” She smiled brightly and continued, “Oh yes, I suppose congratulations on your marriage are in order?”
Daae’s face lit up, he quite enjoyed playing the role of bridegroom and sometimes it did not seem like play. Only twenty minutes before he had dropped his lovely wife off at Darcy’s for the final fitting of her wedding gown. The invitations had been mailed off to the guests and all the other preparations were coming to a conclusion. He admitted to himself that now that Clark Kent was firmly out of the picture he was starting to enjoy the excitement of planning their reaffirmation ceremony.
Lana’s father was more than a little shocked when his daughter called him from their home in Zurich and told him the news. Bertram was not a bad fellow, just a little full of himself. Her mother had been very understanding and welcomed him to their family by extending an invitation to their modest townhouse for dinner. He was pleasantly surprised by the delightful meal Mrs. Lang prepared. He would never allow Lana in a kitchen by herself. Her idea of petit déjeuner was burnt toast and black coffee.
Since their return to Metropolis they had eaten with her parents several times. It gave him a sense of family that he appreciated for Lana’s sake. Unfortunately; these family gatherings would end after the Age of Napoleon exhibit’s opening night and his own business projects in Metropolis concluded and they would return – and remain - in Europe.
But the tone of Mrs. Aronnax’s voice and manner suggested more than the usual doings of DMG was on her mind this fine morning. His cool blue eyes affixed her with a stare, “Did something occur in my absence that concerns you?”
The older woman contemplated whether or not she should inform her employer about Jasper Templar’s unprofessional behavior. After all, Daae had given him the run of the place while he was in Switzerland, an action which still mystified her. She wondered why Bonesteel was making a copy of the document here rather than at his own office. There was also the fascinating material she had read in the green files, there was a corporate takeover being planned and she was certain her boss did not want her meddling in this affair.
“No sir, nothing at all. I will bring in your coffee and croissant in a few minutes.”
He cocked his head and said, “Good, then we can get to work.”
That was fine; it would provide her with more time to find out exactly what Templar was planning. She needed to contact her backchannels in order to learn more about the company known as RoyalPoint Financials.
***
The newsroom was in full swing, humming with activity. Clark had just finished sending his latest story over to Perry. It had been a good day; after everyone had quietly welcomed him back he realized that the very best tonic for sadness was hard work. The TresAx article was shaping up nicely, so far his sources had provided excellent Intel and the additional research he had done was bearing that out. He had no doubt in his mind that when the time came it would cause more than a minor ripple in the business world.
He’d noticed Lois sneaking glances over to him all morning, he wanted to talk to her, unfortunately; their personal relationship was still fragile and he didn’t want her sympathy, he wanted to work with his partner. He stood up and decided to get the ball rolling, he was about to move his feet towards her when Ralph came up.
“Hey! How ya doing Clarkie boy? Now that the ball and chain has gone off to richer pastures, you and I can do a little clubbing together. Oh yeah, if you need anyone to help you get back into the swing of things I have my little black book!” He took out a small, tattered black notebook that had seen better years and waved it under his nose. Clark looked down at the man and walked away, without offering any answer.
“Figures,” Ralph muttered darkly under his breath, “him and Lane are cut from the same cloth, too stuck up for their own good.” Disgusted, he strode up the ramp and headed for the elevator.
Clark continued walking over to a certain desk and said softly, “Lois, can we talk in the conference room?”
She looked up at him, her brown eyes questioning, “Uh, sure. It ought to be empty.”
Several sets of eyes watched the duo surreptiously as they walked over to the conference room. As soon as the door was closed behind him Clark said, “I need to get to work on the Daae story.”
She was more than a little surprised at this and replied, “Oh! Don’t worry about helping me, I can continue on my own. Since Lana’s…”
His voice, gentle but firm, cut her words off. “No, let’s take Lana out of the equation. I’m a reporter and this media manipulation story demands to be told, regardless of my feelings. Especially if he is the kind of man you say he is people need to be warned and protected.”
Lois was well aware of the emotional upheaval he had endured over the past few days. Lana and Daae’s faces were plastered all over the local gossip columns and several tabloids were trumpeting their upcoming wedding ceremony. It was hinted by many Metropolis socialites to be the wedding of the year, no expense had been spared.
Catherine had confided in her that it was she who stopped Peggy from putting Clark’s name in her column. The last thing this mild-mannered, private man needed was for a dozen paparazzi to be camped out on his front door demanding to know how it felt to be jilted. So with a voice laced with concern, she queried, “Are … are you sure?”
“Positive. This is the newspaper business and my personal feelings can’t get in the way of an important story.” He did not think telling her about what happened last night between himself and Lana would do any good. He didn’t want to hurt Lana, but since she chose to be with Daae there was nothing he could do to protect her from the fallout when the story was published. Weeks ago the only thing he knew about Gregory Daae was his partnership with Lex Luthor. That alone was enough to make him wary of the man.
Lois looked at him and when the full weight of his words settled into her mind, a pixyish light of amusement and surprise fairly danced in her eyes, “Oddly enough before the … uh broadcast the other day I wanted to tell you that of all people, my Aunt Rita might have more information for us about Daae.” She glanced at her watch, “As a matter of fact; I’m supposed to meet her in about thirty minutes or so. Do you want to come along?”
“Would you like me to accompany you? After all, this is your Aunt, not No-Knees Nolan or Bobby Bigmouth and she didn’t invite me.” Clark said softly.
She nodded in agreement; Rita was doing this as a favor to her niece. She might not like the idea of having a third party with them at the park. “Yeah, you’re probably right; let me call her to confirm if it’s OK. If not I’ll go alone and we can study the materials here.”
“Great, I better get back to work.” Clark said with a whisper of a smile playing across his lips. With that, he exited the conference room.
Lois remained in the room for a few moments, <Who is this man? Clark Kent, the former boyfriend of Lana Lang-Daae or the hayseed reporter I called Kansas? No this is a combination of both. In the few days since Lana’s betrayal he’s changed, developed into the kind of partner I always needed – and wanted. Now he seems to have crystallized into something, someone better.> He was not a man to date for a series of long luscious nights and then to end the affair as if it were of little consequence. No, this was a man to hold onto with her mind and heart, a man to spend a lifetime living and working with. But to intrude on his sadness now while his soul had been tattered and discarded was wrong.
Clark Kent needed a friend. Lois Lane needed a partner. Presently that’s what she intended to be and trust that when the time was right, when he was thirsting for something deeper, like an abandoned man in a desert, he would be ready for not just a cup of clear cold water, but a refreshing oasis.
A slow smile spread over her face as she exited the conference room, watch out Mr. and Mrs. Daae, Lane and Kent, The Hottest Team in Town are on your trail!
***
Ralph munched viciously on an apple as he walked rapidly down the preserved old cobblestones to the East entrance of Centennial Park, not too far from the large fountain. It was a brilliantly crisp day and droves of Metropolis’ residents were taking in the sunshine. He wanted to meet with his contact as soon as possible and get back to work. Lately Perry had been making snide remarks about ‘story productivity’ and if his didn’t improve he would be returning to the morgue and this time, the move would be permanent.
Discarding the apple to the ground, he approached a hotdog vendor and asked for a dog ‘with the works’. He paid the vendor and stood in front of one of the cream-colored concrete pillars that framed the entrance. He studied the faces in the crowd while wolfing down the overcooked ‘tubesteak’ liberally covered in relish, catsup and raw onions.
Not too long afterwards, he spotted the angular figure of Bonesteel walking over the cobblestones looking neat and tidy in a crisp suit.
“It’s about time you showed up Boney!” Ralph hissed. “Perry White is going to want to know why I’ve been disappearing and not pulling my weight in the bullpen. Templar had better fork over some swinging fringe benefits - especially since I’ve been doing a lot of extra work for him and DMG.”
Bonesteel sat down next to Ralph Lombard on a pitted wooden bench in Centennial Park that had seen better years. He was careful that his perfectly tailored, navy pinstriped River Brothers suit did not suffer any indignities due to this meeting. “Considering the fact that those ‘extracurricular activities’ are helping to pay off your gambling debts among other things, deem yourself fortunate that Mr. Templar still has need of your ‘assistance’.”
Ralph snapped back, “Don’t get high and mighty with me! Jasper Templar may be our boss, but we all work for Gregory Daae! Guys like Daae don’t have anything to do with people like us. We’re the ones who get our hands dirty while he stays out of the picture.”
Bonesteel said nothing.
Seeing his remark had struck home, Ralph smiled and pressed on, “So, what does Jasper want? I told him messing with Lane’s car wouldn’t work.”
Bonesteel felt the tips of his ears turn red, which was the second time this morning, he sighed and mentally agreed. Not that he would publicly acknowledge anything this flea with bad breathe had to contribute. He reasoned it was in his best interest to get to the heart of the matter and depart.
“Mr. Templar still holds you responsible for Miss Lane’s survival. The plan to sabotage her vehicle was supposed to be fool proof. Apparently the ‘fool’ brought in to adjust her brakes was not as proficient as you purported.”
“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that, where is Fisher? None of his buddies have seen him since he did the Lane job for you.”
The right side of Bonesteel’s mouth twitched voluntarily, he said, “I … I have no idea. As was once mentioned, ‘am I my brother’s keeper’?”
An edgy silence passed between the two men and with a cold which speared into his bones, Ralph grasped the other man’s round about meaning. He would never see Fisher again.
“So, what … what does Mr. Templar want me to do now?” he asked warily.
“For the moment, removing Miss Lane is not important, but he is interested in knowing what new stories she and Mr. Kent are currently working on - especially those concerning Mr. Daae.”
“Kent? Nyahh, he just came back from licking his wounds. Apparently his former girlfriend is now Mrs. Daae! Ain’t that a laugh? The poor sap is getting over a broken heart. I spoke with him this morning, believe me, he’ll be less than useful for awhile.”
Bonesteel studied him carefully. “Is this certain?”
“Yeah! You should have seen how everyone treated him … like he just came back from a funeral. If you ask me, he’s better off without her. Who needs a dame like that?”
Bonesteel cocked an eyebrow in his direction and said, “Mr. Kent’s love life is not our concern. We need to control him and his partner. From all reports, Ms. Lane is not one to be trifled with. Mr. Templar would like you to access both their computers and discover what stories they are concentrating on, specifically if there is anything with the name TresAx. Remember, time is of the essence.”
Ralph whined, “Hey! I’m no computer expert! Besides, since that stupid virus outbreak the new systems administrator has put all kinds of safeguards up. Don’t ask me to break into their hard copy file, that’s protected too!”
Bonesteel brought a pair of thin fingers to his nose and pinched it as if he was in pain. <Why did Templar hire this man? Not only is he not up to the challenge, he is unaware of the stakes involved! It’s time he got an education.> “Mr. Lombard, a great deal of money was placed in a special off shore account for your use. I strongly suggest you begin earning those funds, otherwise, Mr. Templar will close that fat account and just how long to do suppose you would survive once those casino pit bulls who want their money discover there is none to be had?”
An ugly, guttural noise escaped Ralph’s throat, unfortunately he was perfectly aware of what those ‘pit bulls’ were capable of and decided not to push Bonesteel any further. “I’ll try. What does Templar want information from those two for?”
“That’s not a matter for your consideration. Accomplish the task, as soon as possible.” The accountant stood, checked to see if his suit was in perfect order and then said. “Send that information to me through the usual channels much depends on it.”
“Oh yeah,” Ralph whined and in a weak attempt to be a reporter asked, “What could be so important … Templar’s business?”
Bonesteel looked at him, a sad expression cast over his long face. “No Mr. Lombard, your life.”
