Part Twenty-Five
Linda’s heart was pounding as she ran towards her building, in the reflection of the glass and chrome doors the red brake lights of Templar’s limousine was still visible. The sight made her throat dry and in a near panic hurried past the doorman to the elevators.
Minutes later with the door to her apartment firmly locked and the state-of-the-art alarm system set, Linda felt only a tiny bit secure.
In a vain attempt to soothe jagged nerves, her eyes looked around the tastefully decorated condo. A metallic floral-patterned wallpaper provided a luxe backdrop to the cozy living room, which featured a silvery linen sectional couch and a classic writer's desk. Soft, gauzy sheers trimmed in gold satin separated the living and dining rooms, as well as diffuse natural light from the large windows at the end of the rooms.
Still this oasis of serenity did little to make her feel better, striding over to the desk she picked up the phone and dialed Preston’s number.
The phone rang for several times, finally Preston picked up, in the background she heard the piano music of Keith Jarret’s The Köln Concert, recorded in Europe during the mid-seventies, a tour de force in live improvisation, playing softly. No matter what anyone else might say about Preston, his taste in music was impeccable. A man’s voice, obviously unhappy about being disturbed growled, “Hello?”
“Pres, thank God you’re home! We have to talk. Can you meet me at my place in a few minutes?”
There was no mistaking the note of tired irritation in his voice, “Linda, it’s been a long, rotten day. Can’t whatever this is wait?”
After what had just happened she had no intention of waiting until tomorrow. They were in this disastrous situation together. “No it can’t wait!” She shot back. “This has to be resolved, tonight!
Thirty minutes later Preston Carpenter paced angrily back and forth, wearing a deep tread into her thick, golden hued oriental area rug. He was gesticulating wildly with an unlit cigar. Linda gritted her teeth with relief that he had not pulled out a match and lit the foul smelling thing. The last time he had spent the night, the ashes flickered off a cigar which they both thought had been extinguished, and nearly started a fire.
Once she finished relating her story he asked, “Are you insane? Why check into the man’s background for pity’s sake? Templar is trying to help free us from Daae’s control. The Metropolis Star – no I - pay a good salary for investigations the public wants to read about! Once Daae’s gone, we’re in the clear.”
Linda, refusing to be taken lightly, answered back, “Did your IQ take a sudden nosedive in the past couple of weeks? Templar threatened to kill an innocent child if I didn’t get into the limousine with him! A child whose only crime was walking down the street with her mother.”
His blue eyes narrowed in quiet anger, he pulled out a match and lit the cigar, much to Linda’s extreme annoyance. “Look Linda sweetheart, this can’t be right …”
“It most certainly is! Jasper Templar’s eyes were on that sweet little girl, his finger was on the trigger and the most sickening thing … he was enjoying watching me squirm, knowing if I didn’t do what he wanted he’d kill her.”
Preston looked around for an ashtray, not founding one; he put the used match onto a thick unlit candle. “So what do you want to do? Leave? Go back to that measly newspaper, The Miami something or other, writing obituaries?”
“At least it won’t be my obit or some innocent bystander’s!” She stopped, took a breath, stood up and walked over to Carpenter and stood before him, arms stiffly at her side, hands clenched and nails biting haplessly into her flesh. In a calmer voice she said, “Daae has not threatened to kill us Pres, at least with him we have a chance. Templar is the insane one … not me. I wish we had never agreed to put those phony stories that Daae wanted in the paper.”
He shook his head, the thought popped into her mind that the cigar, stuck firmly between paper thin lips made him seem like a terrier shaking a bone.“Don’t complain; it netted a few prestigious award nominations for the paper and for you.”
Hearing those words, like a dull razorblade scraping over her eardrums, Linda knew she had lost him, if indeed she had ever had him. Pres’ voice glided into her thoughts, “Linda, you’re an intelligent woman. Working with Templar is the right thing to do. Look, sleep on it, everything will look better in the morning.” Taking a glance at the outrageously overpriced Swiss creation on his wrist he sighed, than smirked. “How about I stay the night? We can make each other feel better?”
Suddenly repulsed at the thought of his touch, Linda responded, “No. No, I’m tired and want to be alone. Good-night Preston.”
He shrugged, dismissing her concerns and refusal as unimportant.
“Okay, see you tomorrow.” With those words he departed, leaving behind an irritated woman who was no longer his lover or ally. Linda stood at the window and watched him get into his sleek silver Cadillac and drive away. Abruptly she realized that every muscle and bone were weary to the point of fainting. The polished façade of an accomplished journalist had been torn away and all that remained was a lady out of options and scared witless of Templar’s next move.
***
It had been a week since her dinner with Clark and the suspension continued to drag on. Ralph had either handed over the phony disk to his contact within DMG or was holding onto it. Whichever way, until they caught him with proof that Clark had been set-up, her partner was persona non grata in the bullpen. The thought made her angry and all the more so when Ralph exited the elevator - whistling of all things!
“Look at him,’ she mumbled darkly. “Not a care in the world and my partner is reduced to writing for small magazines as a free-lancer!” She turned back to her monitor, trying to appear busy.
Ralph called out, “Hey Lane! It must be hard covering the City Desk all alone! A new partner, ready to go to work is just what you need!”
It was a good thing for Lombard that he was so far away; otherwise she would have backhanded him. Instead she felt her hand inching towards the pretty African violet plant perched on the edge of her desk. It would make an excellent missile. She thought better of it and shifted her mind back to the monitor. At that moment Lois’s phone rang shrilly, she looked at the noisy piece of machinery and sighed, how was she to get any work done with all these interruptions? She reached over and practically tore the receiver from its cradle and said, “City Desk, Lois Lane speaking.”
A cultured, gentle voice of a middle-aged woman came over the line.
“Hello Miss Lane. We are not acquainted, but information of a sensitive nature has recently come into my possession and I want to share it with you.”
Lois’s ears perked up and she quickly pulled out a sharp No.2 pencil and sheet of paper to take notes. “Yes, go ahead, Ms …”
“Please, call me Clarice. May I come by the Daily Planet’s office and meet with you?”
“Ah, sure, what do you want to discuss?” Lois asked, her journalist’s curiosity spiked. This woman, whoever she was sounded like the genuine article.
Clarice’s voice trembled ever so slightly, “I’d rather not say anything over the phone. Shall we meet at 2:00?”
“Certainly.”
The voice on the other end took a shallow breath and said, “I assure you Miss Lane, this will be worth your time. Good-bye.”
Putting down the phone, Lois replayed the conversation in her mind. The caller seemed extremely intelligent and despite trying to hide it, more than a little frightened.
Instinctively she looked around to her former partner’s desk and was about to ask his opinion, when for the hundredth time she remembered he was gone. She growled under her breath, “Kansas, I’ve got to get you back here! This ‘Clarice’ person better not be a waste of time.”
This time a welcome familiar voice reached her ears, “Lois, it’s been ages since we’ve had lunch outside of this place! Come join me?” Catherine asked as she walked towards Lois. She was wearing a very stylish green designer suit, which gave a hint of the fabulous figure underneath. The former bookish, gossip columnist had come a long way since the days when most of her clothes were more schoolmarm than fashionable.
“Yeah, I could use a break, Ralph almost got slapped. His constant needling about Clark’s suspension is beginning to get under my skin.”
Catherine’s face creased into a frown, “Odd, he’s been doing that a lot lately. So has Peggy.”
“Peggy? She barely spoke to Clark. By the way, where is she?”
“Who knows, as long as she brings back a decent, well-researched story for her column.”
It was common knowledge Peggy was terrible at her job and was hanging onto the post by a gossamer thread. Catherine, although no longer writing the column, was miffed at the slipshod way Peggy handled it. Lois could tell by the exasperated edge to the older woman’s voice, Peggy had once again done something that was out of bounds.
Throwing her purse strap over one shoulder and taking her friend by the arm, Lois said, “Come on, I hear Java Perk has a spinach salad to die for.” They walked up the ramp and towards the elevator. It was only when the door snapped shut and began its creaky descent did the remark about Clark come up again. “Why does Peggy care about Clark?”
Catherine smoothed back her newly coiffed auburn hair, the short cut was very becoming to her facial lines. She said, “Apparently given that Clark no longer works here …” She forestalled Lois’s retort by hold up her hand. “Technically, he’s fair game. The only reason Clark’s name hasn’t appeared in her column is because Perry refuses to print it.”
Journalistic instincts came to the forefront and swiftly jagged pieces of a small, but decidedly ugly puzzle snapped into place. “She wants to write about his previous relationship with Lana? That she was actively dating him while running around with Daae?”
The other woman nodded sagely, “Yes, quite the little red feather in her cap. Breaking a gossip exclusive no one in Metropolis was aware of. At the time, Clark was too hurt to fight back.”
Lois added, “He’s also too much of a gentleman. But Daae on the other hand …”
“Would have no problem turning his attention on The Daily Planet as a whole and, not simply concentrate on poor Clark. You, better than anyone, know his methods too well to deny I’m right. Once again, Peggy nearly dropped us into an untenable position.”
Lois groaned, “Great! How could we fight off Sebastian Kell, TresAx and two weasels in the newsroom! If Perry finds out, his blood pressure is going to go ballistic.”
“That’s not all, since Clark is no longer in the building, Peggy has been keeping an eye and ear on what he’s been doing, such as having dinner with you. Not a wise move Lois. As we both know, the lawyers would consider that collusion.”
Doe shaped brown eyes grew large with disbelief, “Why didn’t you tell me that sooner? Speaking of telling; where did all this hot information come from?”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, a glint of amusement flashed in Catherine’s eyes, “Miss Lane you are not the only one with highly reliable sources. That’s also why we are having lunch offsite. My source at Metro Post-Times ...” At that moment the elevator doors slid open and the two women stepped into the hubbub that was the Daily Planet’s lobby; full of staffers heading outside for lunch.
Talking further on the subject was out of the question. So the conversation shifted to different topics as they navigated through crowded streets until they reached the Java Perk. Jason, the owner, showed his two favorite female reporters to their seats, they gave their orders for the house special, Spinach salad. When he departed Catherine picked up where she left off in the elevator.
“Right now this TresAx story is huge and lots of reporters – including several notorious bottom feeders are looking for more dirt to throw on Clark and the other two. Sylvia Nygaard is no longer a part of the story since she’s facing separate charges of embezzlement from TresAx. Whoever made a significant break in the story would get a big step in their career.”
Lois mused that Clark had thought exposing TresAx tax dodges would be a huge step in his career. Now he and the two whistleblowers had become the story. She said to Catherine, “What has that got to do with Peggy?”
Catherine’s hands made slashing motions as she spoke, “It’s common knowledge her work and productivity has failed to impress Perry. By feeding information about what the Planet is doing to protect itself from legal action on the TresAx story and what Clark’s next move is to the Metro Post-Times, it might pave the way for another job. Protecting my source at that paper is important. So until either solid proof appears or Peggy does something really stupid, don’t talk to Clark on the phone with her around. Be discreet.”
Rolling her eyes in annoyance, Lois shot back, “I’m always careful when I’m on the phone.”
Her friend was about to answer when the waiter came and placed two large, colorful bowls of spinach salad which included tomatoes, eggs, cheese, red onions, artichoke hearts, slivered almonds and fresh cranberries in front of them. The wicked glint of amusement that Lois had caught in the elevator had returned to Catherine’s eyes and her voice.
“Oh come on!” Catherine said as she picked up a freshly cut lemon and squeezed it over the brightly colored vegetables. “Everyone in the bullpen knows when you’re on the phone with Clark! You two bicker like an old married couple! Plus your voice changes … sometimes you sound like a teen-ager on her first date.”
What could she say to such a remark? Clark Jefferson Kent was attractive, kind, friendly and willing to put his needs on hold for others. Like when he pulled away from her like a frightened deer after that sinfully sweet kiss -- thinking he was being unfaithful to Lana. However while their working relationship had steadied after a few months, their personal relationship had certainly not been the same afterwards. She became aware of Catherine’s voice. “Earth to Lois, come in Lois!”
“Oh yes, Clark! What were you saying?”
Catherine snorted in a very unladylike fashion and then gave her a speculative look and pointedly said. “Why are you mentioning Clark when you’re talking to me?”
Lois’ face flushed and in an attempt to hide her embarrassment she speared an asparagus tip and said, “What are you talking about?”
Emerald eyes studied her carefully and she said slowly, “Lois Lane, are you falling for …?” She left the question unfinished.
“What? No! Who has time to fall in love with Clark Kent or Superman for that matter? Come on, tell me more about Peggy.”
It was easy to see her friend was trying to squirm her way out of the conversation, but Catherine was not having it. “That’s not important right now. Besides, Peggy’s days are numbered. We’ll put Clark on the backburner as well. Let’s get back to … Superman. Did something ‘important’ happened to you that I – one of your closest buddies - should know about?”
In a very small voice Lois answered, “No … not really.”
Catherine leaned back, folded her arms, studied her friend and with a serious tone said, “Impressive, Congressman Ian Harrington thinks he’s a real ladies man, maybe he should take an arrow from Superman’s quiver. Does Big Blue fly damsels in distress around by appointment? What happened next?”
Tense moments went by as Lois fumbled with her napkin wondering how much to tell, than she blurted out, “He … he took me flying over Hobbs Harbor at night! Catherine, it was the single most magnificent thing I’ve ever experienced!”
The green eyes flashed with genuine surprise and spiked with just the tiniest hint of envy. “My! That’s a new twist to being swept off your feet! Lois, that man is a god in a cape! But … but what about Clark?”
Again trying to deflect her friend from the truth, Lois said in what she hoped was a determined voice; sadly it came out as more like a squeak, “What about him? He’s one of my closet ….male friends.”
Silence surrounded the duo; one woman was very sure the other was trying to avoid the subject of her absent partner being more than just a workmate, while the other was desperately trying to hide the truth from her friend … and herself. The question on Catherine Grant’s mind was ... why? “Hey isn’t that rather callous to poor Clark?
Especially after all he’s been through? From what I’ve observed of the two of you, it’s possible he might have feelings for you which are stronger than simple friendship.”
“Feelings?” Lois felt self-conscious that anyone might the suspect the mélange of emotions that she felt for her former work partner. Catherine was not stupid, but she wanted to get off the subject as quickly as they had gotten on it. “He’s a great partner and a good friend, unfortunately it is too soon since Lana’s deception for him to even consider getting involved with anyone else. Especially someone he works with.” This was shorthand for Catherine to remember the last time Lois had been involved in a relationship with someone at work.
Ms. Grant speared at an artichoke heart, bought it to her lips, dropped the vegetable into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. The piercing green eyes were scrutinizing Lois’s expression. She finally spoke just as Lois was about to shout from the anxiety of taut nerves.
“OK. No more discussion about the man in blue spandex or your former partner.”
Lois could feel the pent-up stress leave her back and shoulders.
“… For now.” Catherine stated.
She saw the stricken appearance on Lois’ face and decided to go easy on her. “Oh, lighten up! I was just kidding!”
Visibly relieved Lois went back to eating her salad than said, “Fine! Now what about Peggy?”
“I’m going to approach her soon … give her a chance to admit everything and then hand in her resignation so Perry doesn’t have to fire her. Thereby cutting their pipeline to you and uh … Clark.”
“Will you go back to writing the gossip column until Perry can find somebody else?”
“No! It’s taken me too long to build my reputation as a Financial/Political Journalist not a blasted Gossip Monger! Besides, Arthur thinks I do a much better job in that arena, rather than sifting through other people’s dirty linens.”
Hearing the financier’s name, Lois thought about asking her friend what direction their relationship was headed in. But she knew pursuing that line of conversation was hazardous. After all, she had assisted Catherine in making an exit from a position she loathed and Arthur’s interview was what cemented her new position.
Rather than asking about Arthur she concentrated on the food which was delicious and so the chatter drifted into other areas and soon the two friends were enjoying each other’s company and the calming atmosphere of the restaurant. So much so they lost track of time.
***
Wearing a dark wig, sunglasses and a plain brown pantsuit Clarice walked down the crowded street, passers-by ignoring her as they went about the business of their own lives. Personally, she thought that wearing a disguise was a little ridiculous but Tina had insisted. Her words came back to her, “The Daily Planet has lots of people in there who might know Daae. You don’t want there to be a reason for word to get back to him that a former employee was there and then a few days later damaging articles about DMG come out.”
It didn’t help that these words lay in the back of her mind as she picked up her pace; suddenly she turned a corner and was greeted by one of the most familiar buildings in Metropolis, its front dominated by a giant globe. Somewhere she had read that during Prohibition when Pino ‘Pretty Boy Dragonetti’ and his gang had ruled the city’s underworld, The Daily Planet had been called a ‘shining beacon of truth’. She hoped that held true for this time of coffee bars and feminism. The leather bag felt even heavier with all files and diskettes within. Soon very soon the burden would be taken from her and into the capable hands of people who were trained to handle this sort of thing.
When Gregory Daae had said his final good-byes to her on Friday he had no thought that his former assistant was going to bring about a nasty disruption to his life.
For a moment she felt nauseous and wanted to turn around, hop on a plane and begin a different lifestyle in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Her new house, purchased with part of the money received from sold off DMG stock, boasted a fabulous view of the Sandia Mountains. It was here that she planned to go back to school and learn how to be a potter.
Before doing that she had other business to attend to. With a deep breath she placed a cold hand pulling on the door handle to the great metropolitan newspaper’s lobby.
She intended to use the name Clarice, tell Lois the barest bones of a story, hand over Bonesteel's files and get out of the building as soon as possible.
