Part Twenty-Two
The impeccably decorated executive offices of DMG, USA were quiet and deserted except for Gregory Daae’s conference room. Two persons sat in black leather swivel chairs at the traditional wood conference table gleaming with beautiful hardwood inlays carefully discussing their future. One member of the duo sat down uneasily in her chair, looking around rather nervously.
“After all the things you’ve told me about my boss, I should think the last place we should meet is in this room. Who knows how many listening devices and cameras are in here.”
“Right now this is the safest room in the executive suite, besides your own office. Daae has a special team of technicians sweep this office day and night for surveillance devices. They report their findings to me.”
This bit of information calmed Stephanie’s nerves, however the hour was late and she wanted to get out of the conference room as quickly as possible. Bugs notwithstanding, she imagined seeing Daae stride into the room at any time. “We have to give Lois Lane the material you complied against Templar and Daae. It’s the only way out of this mess.”
“How can you be certain that their crimes will ever come to light?” Bonesteel asked.
“Tristan, there are prisons crammed with white collar criminals who thought they were ‘too smart’ to be apprehended. I’ve been an administrative assistant in this city a long time and rest assured only a small handful get away with these kinds of offenses. Invariably it is some blameless middle-level manager or loyal assistant that ends up taking the fall.” She said rather pointedly.
He sighed, “You’re right. Nevertheless, you haven’t done anything wrong. Whereas myself…”
Stephanie shook her head. “True, but being interrogated by the SEC and having my life splashed on the front of every newspaper in the country is not appealing. Tomorrow morning I am handing over my retirement papers to HR. Soon afterwards Miss Lane will be in possession of these papers. Part of the deal is that you turn over any additional evidence and then disappear into the Witness Protection Program.”
“Does Miss Lane have that kind of authority?”
“No. But I’m fairly certain James Olsen does.” She laid her hands on the table as if to draw strength from the hardwood. “Now, Daae didn’t get that information from out of the blue, who is his mole on the Daily Planet?”
“It is one of their low-end reporters; Ralph Lombard.” Bonesteel said with an audible sigh.
Her brow furrowed in concentration, “He’s Templar’s man? Why is he doing this to the newspaper?”
Bonesteel shrugged, “Mr. Lombardi is the type of person who would sell out anyone for a few dollars, but in this particular case he owes a substantial amount in gambling debts to persons who are even lower than he is. Templar pays very well for his information. He had promised if Ralph got into either Lane’s or Kent’s computer and found anything useful, Templar would provide enough funds to clear his debts once and for all.”
The administrative assistant gave an uncharacteristic snort. “Take it from me Tristan. Gamblers seldom quit. They simply move onto another table. Nonetheless, what would have happened to Lombard if he failed?”
“Mr. Lombard’s life would be at stake if he failed.” Bonesteel said softly.
She suppressed a shiver than said, “Enough! Too many lives are being torn apart by this deal our respective employers have put together. We must stop this great madness before someone is hurt or … killed. I’m handing everything over to Lois Lane at the end of this week.”
***
Ralph Lombard rode downstairs on the elevator; the car rattled and shook as it rolled past each floor. The diskette with all the down loads from Lois’s computer was tucked safely in his battered and scuffed briefcase. With a nervous giggle he thought about Perry’s reaction when his favorite reporter was also suspended. It didn’t matter. Because with this diskette Ralph was sure that freedom from Templar, Daae and the whole corporate jungle was coming down the pike.
The elevator lurched to a halt and the doors slid open, he fairly bounced from the car and ran over to the pay phone by the newsstand. He stuffed himself inside, closed the doors and proceeded to dump change down the coin slot. Twice he dialed the wrong number and had to start from the beginning. Finally the phone rang and he waited for Templar’s toady, Bonesteel to pick up.
“Come on! Come on! Where is that jerk?”
The call moved over to voice mail, Ralph thought his heart would explode it was beating so loudly. Slowly, he calmed down and spoke. “Listen Boney! It’s me, Ralph Lombard. I got more stuff about this crazy TresAx investigation, sounds like Lane is trying to find proof that pretty boy is innocent. If ya play your cards right, she’ll get suspended as well. Call me at home.” Angrily he slammed down the phone and pushed out of the booth.
“He’d better call,” Ralph mumbled.
***
Clark and Todd sat at a small table in a neat kitchen, one which should have been occupied by a happy family having dinner rather than two men somberly drinking coffee that was rapidly going cold. “So let me get this straight; one of your former co-workers broke into your computer, downloaded all the notes and article materials and gave them to someone at The Star and this fancy lawyer?”
“Exactly! I never told
anyone who my sources were.”
Todd took some time to weigh Clark’s words then said, “OK, Kent, so what happens now?”
“Describe your last day at TresAx and don’t leave out anything, the tiniest detail could make a tremendous difference.”
The other man gave Clark an odd look. Despite the fact that he had settled down, he was still wary of trusting the journalist. He shot back, “Is this going to help me return to my job or at least get another one?”
“That’s a promise no one should give. Nonetheless, I still have a few friends in Metropolis.” He left the rest unspoken.
“Right. Okay. At this point what do either of us have to lose?” He took a contemplative sip of coffee, rubbed long fingertips over his bald head and began his story. “The day started just like any other; parked my car in the underground garage and rode up to the eighteenth floor. Went into my office, sat down and got right to work. TresAx knows how to treat its executive staff. Man, I loved my office! It was on the corner, with a magnificent view of the harbor.”
Clark said, “I heard that the harbor was not a good place. But that was before I came to Metropolis.”
Todd snorted, “That’s putting it mildly! Lex Luthor’s company did a bang up job cleaning and restoring the ecology of the area. Five years ago, Hobb’s Bay was nothing but a series of junkyards and garbage sprawled was along the river’s edge, now there’s a fabulous park with greenways and bike paths. Tara and I used to take the kids there all the time. Hell, even the river is better, according to The Daily Planet’s weekend section the fish are starting to return.”
His listener nodded slowly; there was no reason to rush Todd.
“Anyhow, I was looking out the window, thinking how far I had come since I first started in the company as a mailroom clerk, when door was abruptly opened and the head of security walked in and grabbed my monitor. Behind him was the company’s head of finance, Adam Guerin and another guy I didn’t know. He demanded my immediate removal from the premises. One of HR’s ‘legal eagles’ insisted all personal items had to go with me, but anything that the company owned had to remain there.”
“That must have been incredibly painful and difficult.” Clark said, remembering his own humiliation at having a security guard follow him while he packed up his belonging and leaving the Daily Planet carrying a cardboard box.
“Yeah, well you know the rest, since we have that in common at least,” Todd grumbled.
“No, we have a lot more in common than that. There is something we both cherish and that’s our reputations. Somehow, this co-worker of mine passed on your name, Sylvia Nygaard and Dennis Shaw’s, we have to set the record straight and regain our careers. Unfortunately; none of that is going to come about unless we work together.”
Todd stood up and paced across the kitchen, this was a man who had carved out a life for himself from humble beginnings. He had the good life in his grasp, now he couldn’t fathom what the next step would be. Bitterly he said, “Sylvia Nygaard is not part of this discussion. Those charges the DA’s office is leveling at her? Unfortunately, they are real. She joined us ‘cause she figured by turnin’ state’s evidence the law would go easy on her.”
Startled by this new information Clark said, “What? She told you this?”
“Yeah, Sylvia’s been walking down a dark road for a long time. When she first started with the company she had more energy than experience, more raw talent than book smarts. But there was also a hunger, a determination to be the best.” He sighed, walked back over to the table and sat down heavily. “Unfortunately, that quality, on top of hanging around with the wrong associates both inside and outside of the company, led to a lot of stupid decisions.”
Todd was mourning the loss of many things and if he did not find something positive to fuel his energies soon he could be on the same dark road. Clark cleared his throat, as much as it pained him; he needed to get past the other man’s brooding and the current unfortunate situation. Before he could say anything Todd began to speak again.
“It’s funny, that dude with Guerin said my name was worthless in the financial world. Effective immediately I was ‘untouchable’. That my ‘friend’ on the Daily Planet was in just as much, if not more trouble than I was. He even mentioned your partner, Lois Lane.”
Clark said, “Why would he mention Lois? I was the only one working on that article. Lois didn’t know about it until later. Who said that? Gregory Daae?”
“Why would Daae be at TresAx? Nope, this was someone called Temp something - real arrogant pig.”
Immediately Clark felt a thousand tiny pinpricks of icy fear tighten his belly. He took a moment to compose his emotions so as not to alarm Todd he asked, “Templar? Jasper Templar?”
“Yes. He was a tall blond man with a goatee. Now that I think of it, Guerin seemed almost afraid of him. You know this guy? Who is he?”
Standing up from the table, Clark came over and shook Todd’s hand.
“He might be the missing piece to the puzzle. Listen, I know losing your position at TresAx was painful, but we will find a solution.” Todd walked Clark to the front door. After the rather bombastic way he had initially greeted him, now he was uncharacteristically silent.
“Look Kent, there is very little actual help I can give, but if you need me to testify in a court of law … well call me. The thought of those jerks getting rid of me like I was nothing … frankly, hurts my pride.”
“Thanks. Right now, just worry about your family. As a matter of fact it might be best if you and Tara join your kids for a few days.” Clark pulled a notepad from his pocket and wrote his phone number and address. “Call me when you get settled.”
Todd slowly took the paper and said in an angry voice, “Is there a possibly of a threat to my family?”
“No, this is just a … precaution. Listen, I’ll be in touch. Please call me and let me know where you are, it’s important.” With that Clark exited out the front door.
***
It was early in the morning; Gregory Daae was sitting behind his desk when Stephanie appeared, carrying a tray which held his usual morning repast; fresh hot croissant, a bowl of fruit salad and a coffee. It was always pleasant to begin the day’s routine with his assistant; who brought a sense of calm organization to the DMG executive suite.
Today Stephanie wore a silvery gray pinstripe jacket paired with a pencil skirt which displayed a mature figure that had never slipped into being matronly. She sat down in the visitor’s chair opened her notepad and while he ate, they went over the day’s activities. Fifteen minutes later when his schedule had been planned and set she cleared her throat and spoke.
“Mr. Daae, I need to take a few minutes to discuss a personal matter?”
He looked up genuine concern on his face, “Are your children having some difficulty? Are you well?”
“No … er yes. There is no easy way to begin this conversation. Uh, that is to say, I wanted to inform you I am taking an early retirement and will be leaving DMG in two weeks.”
Gregory Daae sat in his deliciously comfortable leather chair, with an unaccustomed expression of surprise on his face.
“Impossible n'est pas français! Retirement? Mrs. Aronnax, why would you leave DMG? There is so much more for you to accomplish here.”
Stephanie’s facial expression was a combination of happiness at his reaction to her decision and sadness as to the real reason for her eminent departure. “All the more reason for me to retire now Gregory, there are places I have wanted to visit. Dear old friends to see and college courses to be studied. If not now, then when shall I?”
Slightly taken aback by her use of his first name, he knew she was serious. “Is there
anything I can do to change your mind?”
Stephanie said nothing, allowing the silence in his office to grow until it was uncomfortable. Then she spoke with admiration, “Your confidence in my abilities and allowing me to grow in my position gives me much satisfaction, but now it’s time to do something else with my life.”
“Does this have anything to do with my determination to remain in Europe with Lana?”
Carefully she weighed her response and said, “That is a personal decision Gregory. But anyone can see you cherish Lana deeply and want to spend time with her.”
“Perhaps this decision has to do with Monsieur Templar? Many have expressed concern about his … manners.”
That sentence caught Stephanie completely off guard, but she should have known Daae would not be ignorant of that odious man’s behavior towards his staff. Looking at the earnest expression on his face, her resolve almost broke and she wanted to tell him everything. But after her discussions with Bonesteel, fear and a new found understanding of what he was capable of stopped her. Again she tiptoed into the verbal minefield with utmost caution.
“Mr. Templar is …an adroit businessman. But after years of working with a person who treats others with graciousness, I find his style of management … irksome.”
Her employer gazed off into the distance, a finger gently rubbing his bottom lip. Then he sighed heavily and said, “Stephanie, it shall be impossible à faire to replace you, but your reasoning makes perfectly good sense. Allow me to contact HR today and have them draw up the paperwork. Your separation package shall be that of an executive; a year’s salary, bonus, complete healthcare coverage for six months and shares in DMG stock over and above your pension.”
Shocked by his generosity Stephanie blinked uncontrollably then managed to say not without emotion, “Th … thank you, Gregory.”
“Not at all, but I must ask a request, S'ilte plait.”
She looked at him, S'ilte plait was the informal way of saying please in French, as if she were his friend.
“Yes?”
“Rather than the customary two weeks, please stay for three? It will allow both of us time to locate and interview your … replacement; although, it will be difficult for anyone to fill the position without your signature flare.” He said this with a disappointed sigh.
There was a sense of sadness in the room, an end of something, but Stephanie was determined to conclude their association before everything Templar had planned blew up in her face. “Very well.”
Gregory stood up, came around the desk, extended his hands and grasped one of hers holding it like it was china. He released her hand and went back to his chair. Stephanie turned walked towards the door and had her hand on the doorknob and was about to open it when his richly accented words filled her ears, there was a hint of darkness in his tone. “Oh, Mrs. Aronnax there is one more thing which I shall do for you.”
They had smoothly slipped back into their respective roles of employer and employee.
“Yes Mr. Daae?”
“Soon, Mr. Jasper Templar shall not pose a problem for you or anyone on my staff.”
In all the years they had worked together she had never heard him speak with such finality. A cold lump of fear twisted in her stomach. Her tongue, sudden dry, had stuck to the roof of her mouth and rendered her speechless; she nodded, and departed the office, her hands quivering with fear.
***
Lois emerged from the Metro entrance into a noisy, congested neighborhood; children ran through the street firing water pistols while their parents watched from the windows of their apartments, yelling corrections at their offspring. Cars inched slowly along, trying to avoid hitting each other and the pedestrians who zigzagged in and out of traffic as if they were made of steel.
She was grateful she had decided to take the Metro rather than her car. It would have been near impossible to find a parking space. Her eyes scanned the numbers of the buildings and discovered the one she wanted; 955 Greensboro Road. With sure steps she navigated past a knot of children and mounted the steps. The name of the intercom said,
Nygaard, Apt. 3J, Lois buzzed and a gravelly voice snarled, “What!”
Slightly taken aback Lois responded, “Miss Nygaard, my name is Lois Lane and I work for the Daily Planet.”
“Go away! I’m sick of reporters!” The connection was abruptly broken.
Lois glared at the intercom, as if her angry stare would cause the door to open. She was about to dig into her bag for a lockpick when a young voice was heard behind her. Turning she looked down to see a boy about Denny’s age he said, “Hey lady, you wanna go inside?”
“Uh yeah. What’s your name?”
“Miguel, we live on the same floor as Nygaard. She ain’t a happy person, even before the cops showed up.” With that, the boy used his key to open the door and Lois followed him inside, not without looking around first to see if this was an ambush. Miguel ran up the stairs and was in his apartment before Lois could catch up with him. <Ah youth,> she thought wistfully, <once upon a time I
walked that fast.>
Pushing the past aside, upon reaching Apt. 3J, she knocked on the door. Within she heard a muttered curse and locks being turned. The door swung open and a grayish fog of cigarette smoke rolled out in front of her. A hard-edged woman in her late thirties stood before her wearing black sweats, grubby blond hair that looked like it hadn’t been combed in a week and a mangled cigarette hanging out of her mouth. The creature took out the foul smelling cancer stick and bellowed. “Get away from me! Ever since that fool Todd shot his mouth off to Kent,
my life has been in the toilet!”
Undaunted, Lois snapped back, “Miss Nygaard, it wasn’t my partner’s fault that your identity was discovered. Right now we are trying to find out who alerted your former employer’s…”
The other woman hissed something low and nasty at Lois and barked, “I don’t have anything to say to anybody. Right now, I’m facing a federal rap. Look lady, if Todd hadn’t said anything, I would be in the clear – with plenty of money to spare! On a tropical island sucking up drinks with tiny umbrellas in ‘em! Now beat it, before I call the cops and we can
both be in front of the Grand Jury!” With that she slammed the door with all her strength; the loud sound reverberated throughout the building.
“Whew,” Lois whispered to herself as she walked downstairs. “Ms. Nygaard was not only unkempt, but drunk on top of everything else. Imagine telling me she really
is guilty of illegal trading. Since that’s the case, she would be a lousy person to use in building our story.”
A half hour later, Lois was behind her desk working on another story. So far her efforts to locate Dennis Shaw had been futile. He had not answered his phone nor was he at home. So for the time being that part of her hunt had to be put on hold. It was important for her to continue working otherwise she would go out of her mind with worry. Where was Clark? She hadn’t heard from him since the suspension. Maybe Pete Ross knew what happened to him. As she reached over to dial, her phone rang.
Rats! Now she gets a phone call? Picking up the receiver she said, “City Desk, Lois Lane speaking.”
A familiar rumbling voice came over the line, {Well Hello, Miss Lane. Are you holding down the fort?}
Happiness sprinted through her heart and she wanted to cheer, but instead kept her voice down and whispered. “Where have you been Kansas? I tried to call you a couple of days ago when Superman was over! He’s going to help us. By the way, why didn’t you tell me you knew him? I found out some things! We have to get together …”
On the other end of the line, Clark could not keep from smiling, how he missed her take no prisoners attitude!
{That’s great Lois! Let’s meet at Café Americana tonight after you get off work. We can compare notes.}
“Perfect.” She said, trying hard to convey a professional attitude while talking to her former partner, whom she was fonder of than she was willing to admit.
{Hey, Lois?}
“Yes?”
At that moment Stacy ran over and said. “Get off the phone! This is important! We gotta talk in the conference room!”
Lois looked up and stared at the young woman. She was fairly jumping up and down with excitement. “Can’t this wait?”
“No!”
“Fine! I’ll meet you in the conference room.” Returning to her phone conversation she said hurriedly, “Sorry about that, we can talk later, Uncle Mike and especially Aunt Rita, would like to see you again.”
{Okay. See you soon.}
They ended the conversation and Lois got up and headed for the conference room. “This had better be good,” she mumbled.
Unbeknowst to her, Peggy Becker had been standing not too far away, listening in on the conversation. She reached over and picked up her phone.
