Summary: After establishing himself as Superman, Clark Kent continues his mission to help people. But he isn’t prepared for what it might cost him.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I make nothing. All Superman characters, plot points, and recognizable dialogue belong to DC Comics, Warner Bros., December 3rd Productions and anyone else with a stake in the Superman franchise. All Batman characters, plot points, and otherwise belong to DC Comics, Warner Bros., and anyone else with a stake in the Batman franchise. I'm just borrowing their toys for a little while.
Author's Note: Special thanks go out to Val, my super beta. And to both Val and Feli, for letting me bounce ideas off of them as needed.
This is a direct sequel to “Stepping Into The Light,” which is a direct sequel to “Embracing The Darkness.” Please read those two stories first, if you haven’t already. Thanks! And enjoy!
****
Clark took a deep breath as he drank in the sights and smells of the bullpen. It felt so good to be back, even if the entire place had been redesigned after the bombing, roughly six months before. But the redesign had bettered the place more than Clark could have ever dreamed. The equipment was the top of the line and had vastly improved their effectiveness in reporting the news. Clark mentally grinned to himself. The Gotham Gazette had never had such impressive equipment, or such a comfortable, inviting environment. Of course, the newsroom had only just reopened three months before, so it still had that “shiny and new” quality to it, as Jimmy had so aptly put it.
They could have been working in a mud pit for all Clark cared. It was still nice to be back to his normal routine of going in to the office, rather than writing their stories in the cramped living room in either his or Lois’ apartment, shuffling their piles of research between armchairs, couches, coffee tables, or the floor – or, on occasion, kitchen tables and counters – then emailing their copies to Perry and waiting by the phone to hear if he approved of them or not. Clark felt more useful, somehow, by having an office to report to. Of course, working from home had had some benefits. Namely, he could usually duck out to respond to a crisis as Superman without needing to make excuses.
No matter. He was still infinitely glad to see the Daily Planet survive and thrive in the wake of the bombing.
If nothing else, being in the office guaranteed that he got to spend all day almost every day with Lois. He sighed happily at that thought. All his life he’d wondered what love was like. Now, being in love with Lois, it exceeded even his wildest dreams. He’d even begun to think ahead to the future – something he hadn’t really done since the day he’d become a thirteen-year-old orphan. Back then, his world had stopped. The future had only stretched so far as who would take in him, now that he had no family. When he’d been shipped off to live in Grandma Tildy’s halfway house, the future had been limited to whether or not he’d ever be adopted, or if he’d eventually age out of the home and be forced to make his own way, alone. As a homeless, drifting teen, the future had meant only what the next hour or day would bring – another night camped out in the rain or snow, another day with a gnawing, growling feeling in his stomach, another series of nightmares that would rob him of sleep. After meeting Bruce and going to live in Wayne Manor, his future had broadened once more, and had even become a little brighter. He could afford to think in terms of the next semester at school, the next year working as in intern for the Gotham Gazette, five years down the line and whether or not he’d still be able to perform his duties as Nightwing once he entered the workforce. But even then, the future had never once meant his entire future, only a relatively short road ahead of him.
But not things were different. For the first time in his life, the future didn’t seem so abstract and lonely. After living as a recluse for long, wrapping himself in the shadows as Nightwing, and wandering the Earth as an aimless, overseas reporter, Clark finally felt something about his future that he’d never felt before. Hope. Hope for permeance and stability. Hope for love and a family. Hope for a life with Lois. Hope for a family of his own, in time. He wanted to share everything with Lois – waking up with her next to him in bed, making love to her, having children with her, raising their family together, planning vacations, celebrating milestone birthdays and anniversaries together. He could picture himself growing old with her, and, eventually, dying in contentment over a life spent with the woman he loved.
He felt a flutter in his chest as he thought of Lois. A grin spread over his face. Ten months. For ten months he’d been graced with the opportunity to love Lois and be loved by her in return. Working side by side with her every day, they had both learned almost everything there was to know about each other. Clark knew that sometimes, couples that worked together could grow to resent one another. But not Lois and himself. The hours they’d spent together both inside of work and outside of it had only served to strengthen their relationship, like steel forged in fire. Nothing could break them. Their future was solid. Again, Clark sighed to himself. The future. Every thought, every musing, every dream came with Lois. In every scenario he could concoct, Lois was there with him as his wife.
But before that could happen, he knew he had to divulge his biggest secret to her.
The secret.
The secret that would end the lies and deceptions.
The secret that would explain everything to her - once she knew it.
The secret that would, more than likely, destroy everything Clark had worked so hard to create.
The secret that would make him more vulnerable than he’d ever been in his entire life.
Soon, he vowed to himself, trying to ward off the guilt that ate away at him every moment he went without telling Lois about his double life. He knew he had to tell her. He’d already made up his mind to sit down with her and tell her the whole truth about himself, as soon as possible.
But not now. Now he had other important things to discuss with her. He left the break area and made his way to her desk.
“Morning, Lois,” Clark said cheerfully as he placed an expertly made cup of coffee on her desk.
“Morning to you too,” she replied, stretching her neck up toward him as he bent to place a quick, light kiss on her lips. “You’re in a good mood today. And thanks for the coffee. I was just about to get up and get one for myself.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied. “And yes, I am happy. I just heard from the DA’s office.”
“The DA? What about?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with interest over the rim of her mug as she took a sip of coffee.
Clark couldn’t help but to crack a tiny grin. Coffee mug or not, Lois couldn’t hide her curiosity or her impatience. She was nearly bursting with the need to know, he could see.
“Oh, nothing much,” he teased, unable to resist the opportunity to toy with her a little. “Just the Planet bombing.”
“Really?” she said, asked incredulously.
She set her mug down and seemed to immediately forget about the coffee. She swiveled her chair to track him as he moved to sit on the edge of her desk. She reached out and blindly grabbed a pen and a pad of paper, looking ready to jot down whatever information Clark had to share. Her bright eyes looked up at him, waiting, but Clark could already see the wheels in her mind whirring rapidly as she tried to guess as to what he might tell her.
“They arrested the bomber months ago,” she said thoughtfully. “Did they find a second culprit? Is the bomber pleading guilty? Is he finally going to talk and say why he did it? God, I hope they nail his hide to the wall and leave him to rot.”
Clark raised his eyebrow at her in amusement. That caught her attention and she cleared her throat.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “I got a little ahead of myself. But thinking about what he did just boils my blood.”
“I know,” Clark said gently. “I love that about you.”
“Really?” she asked, tucking a strand of wayward hair behind her right ear. “It’s not annoying?”
“Never,” Clark swore. “I love your dedication to the case. Besides, I feel the same way about what happened to the Planet.”
Lois nodded solemnly. “Anyway, you were saying?”
Clark nodded in turn. “The bomber? Joey Bermuda? He’s willing to talk.”
Lois’ eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”
Clark nodded again. “The DA’s working out a deal for a lighter sentence in exchange for Joey’s employers – not only for the Planet bombing, but on a whole slew of other cases. Remember, he’s been linked to at least twenty other bombings in the tristate area in the last two years alone, that we know of. And that’s only because you and I found the evidence for them when we discovered Joey’s lair.”
Lois grinned for just a moment. “That felt good,” she beamed. “Pinning all those unsolved terror attacks on him. It was about time he got caught for everything he’s done.”
“It sure did,” Clark agreed with a smile and a feeling of pride swelling his heart.
“You really think he’ll give up his employers?” Lois asked hopefully as Clark took her hand in his and brushed his thumb over her knuckles soothingly.
He shrugged slightly. “He’s apparently already alluded to the fact that there’s a big name involved, at least in the Planet’s case.”
“Big?” Lois repeated. Then, scrunching her brow, “How big are we talking?”
“Not sure,” Clark shrugged helplessly. “All I know is that Joey made it seem like whoever it is, his employer is extremely dangerous and very powerful.”
Lois tapped the capped end of her pen on the pad of paper impatiently. “How long before he talks?”
“The DA’s office didn’t say. They’re still working out the details of the deal. It could be as early as this afternoon, but, to be honest, I’m not holding my breath on it. The DA’s swamped right now with a lot of high profile cases.”
“Well, whenever we find out, you and I will be there getting the front page exclusive,” Lois swore. She looked around the bullpen for a long moment. “It’s hard to believe the bombing happened six months ago,” she said in a quiet, almost contemplative tone.
“I know,” Clark said soothingly, reaching out and touching her shoulder. “But, honestly, I’m surprised the DA’s office was able to build their case against Joey as quickly as they did.”
“Well, they did have a little help in that department,” Lois teased him proudly.
Clark nodded ruefully. “I wish we’d gotten that lucky break sooner than we did. Two months of valuable time…” His voice trailed off, then he sighed. “Not that it was our fault. The guy was practically a ghost until we stumbled upon that ATM photo of him when we were working on the Call Girl Slasher case.”
“Yeah, I know,” Lois conceded, dropping her head a little. “It’s just…so frustrating, that’s all. I mean, it took three months just to get the Planet back. Now we’re this close,” Lois said, holding her thumb and index fingers a hairs-breath apart, “to finding out who wanted to take us down.”
“Don’t worry, Lois. The DA is putting a lot of pressure on Joey. One way or another, that name will come out. And when it does, you and I will be right there, making sure whoever it is goes to jail for the rest of his or her life.”
Lois grinned. “I can smell the awards for our coverage already,” she joked.
“Absolutely!” Clark agreed with a chuckle. “When we take down Joey’s employer…whoemever he or she might be…I think we’re going to find that they were behind a lot more than just trying to destroy a newspaper.” He reached over and cupped her cheek in his hand. Gazing into her worry-filled eyes, he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “It’ll happen, Lois. I promise.”
“I know,” she admitted, covering his hand with her own and appearing to bask in the warmth of his palm. “And I think you’re right, about the potential to find more skeletons in the closet when we nail whoever ordered the hit on the Planet. I mean, we know Joey has ties to Intergang. And we’re reasonably sure the Churches run Intergang.”
“Right,” Clark said, sipping his own coffee. “But we already know Intergang wasn’t behind the bombing. The lie detector tests proved it.”
“Right,” Lois echoed. “We also know Joey has worked as a free agent in the past. He’s admitted to it.”
“Only after you and I found that bizarre collection of his,” Clark pointed out.
That had been truly disturbing – Joey’s trophies from the jobs he’d done. Just the thought of it still sent a chill down Clark’s spine. He could still picture every last gruesome detail. The way everything had been labeled – pieces of debris from each and every successful bombing he’d committed, all of them paired with newspaper clippings chronicling the disaster. Clark had immediately felt a cold sweat run down his back as he’d realized that Joey truly loved what he did. It was, in that moment, when he’d come to fully understand the darkness within the man. This wasn’t someone who did a job simply because his palms had been greased with enough cash. This was Joey Bermuda’s passion. Every malicious, evil act had been a source of pride for Joey – another notch in his belt that he could brag about. And he had bragged about them when the police had questioned him. The lives lost didn’t matter to him. In fact, it had seemed like the more lives that were lost in each bombing, the more Joey had beamed in pride.
Clark had started to get a sense of the depth of Joey’s evilness before they’d ever found his lair. The more he and Lois had dug into Joey’s past, the more they’d discovered how sick and twisted he truly was. In fact, the only thing that hadn’t been depraved about the man was his devotion to his young daughter, who – and Clark was thankful for this – lived across the country with her mother, Joey’s ex-wife, Joanne. But finding Joey’s lair had hammered home just how demonic the man was inside.
“Don’t remind me,” Lois said with a shudder. “It was bad enough finding it the first time, let alone going back with the police.”
“No argument there,” Clark replied with a deep frown. “I still don’t understand it though. How someone could take such obvious pride in such gruesome memorabilia. Sure, it’s not like his trophies were covered in gore or anything, and it wasn’t like he’d acquired a collection of human skulls, but…” His shoulders slumped as if under a great weight. “Some of those bombings killed hundreds of people.”
Lois shook her head sadly. “I don’t get it either. Not to mention the fact that they were a dead giveaway that he was responsible for all of those incidents.”
“It takes a truly sick mind,” Clark said, the words tainting his mouth with a bad taste. He took a sip of coffee to wash it away. “In any case, someone from either the DA’s office or the police department is supposed to call me when they get that information.”
And that’s all the information they gave you?” Lois pried hopefully, though Clark knew it was more out of a force of habit than any real expectation that he was hiding any information.
Clark shook his head resignedly. “Sorry.”
“Perfect,” Lois said, sarcasm dripping heavily from the word. But Clark knew she wasn’t exasperated with him. It was just the overall situation.
“Still,” Clark said, looking around the office, “you have to admit. After the forced renovation to deal with the damage caused by the bombs, the Planet has never looked better.”
“Yeah,” Lois said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “Thank God for the silver lining.”
“Oh, come on, Lois. The entire place is more modern, more updated, and much better equipped to handle our needs now,” Clark said, defending his choice to see the good in the tragedy. “The new computers alone have been a huge help. They’re faster and a lot more reliable than the ones we had before.”
“Sure,” she admitted. “As soon as Joey names his employer, I’ll be sure to have Perry send a thank you card to them.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Clark playfully pressed. “Just…pointing out how generous Mr. Stern was when it came time to rebuild.”
“We’re lucky to have him for an owner,” Lois agreed. “A lot of other places might not have been so fortunate.”
Clark nodded silently, drinking his coffee. Then, “So, partner, what’s on the agenda for the day?”
“Aside from the break in the Planet bombing…well, potential break…not much.”
“Okay,” Clark said with a sip of his coffee. “I guess we’ll have to find something.”
Lois nodded. “Any ideas?” she asked over the rim of her coffee cup.
“Nothing yet. I filed the murder-suicide last night after you left. And I still haven’t heard back from the City Council on that new town hall proposal.”
“You want to head over there?” Lois chewed her lower lip, looking less than enthused about what she clearly viewed as a puff-piece, but ready to propel herself into action to get the story out of the way.
Clark shook his head. “My contact isn’t there until tomorrow. I’ll try back then. No one else will talk to me. Besides, the vote on it isn’t for months, so it’s not like we need to rush it.”
“Wait,” Lois said, circling back. “You said you filed the murder-suicide? When?”
“I came back in last night, I guess around eleven. I don’t know why. Being home was driving me stir-crazy. I had to get out and do something. It was bothering me that we didn’t get a chance to finish it.”
“Well, thanks,” Lois said. “Did it help?”
“Help?”
“The feeling of being stir-crazy,” she clarified.
“Oh…yeah,” Clark said.
The truth of the matter was, he’d heard the cry for help. But Superman had been occupied with a bus crash at the time. Too many people had had injuries that required him to shuttle them to the hospital. By the time he’d gotten a moment to check out the cry for help, it had been too late. The teenaged killer had already shot and killed his girlfriend, and had turned the gun on himself. It had shattered his heart, knowing he’d needed to ignore the call for help. It hadn’t been any easier returning later as a reporter. He’d felt responsible for their deaths, even though he knew, logically, that there was no way he could have saved them. The bus accident had been the priority. He’d saved a lot of lives by staying on the scene.
But logic only got so far with his heart.
So he’d spent the night second guessing his every decision at the rescue, even though he knew there hadn’t been any other course of action. It had driven him completely stir-crazy, and the only thing that had helped was telling the victim’s story.
At least, he mused darkly, he was getting better about brooding over lives he couldn’t save. In the beginning, even though he’d had years of Nightwing experience under his belt, he’d had much more trouble forgiving himself over lives lost. But now, almost a year later, he was finally starting to let such unfortunate circumstances go. He was only one man, and despite his incredible powers, he couldn’t be everywhere at once.
Oh, he’d known going into the whole Superman thing that this would happen. Bruce had warned him moments like this would arrive, when he’d have to pick and choose who to save. But knowing it didn’t make experiencing it any less difficult. It still hurt, every time he was too late to save someone. It still tore him to shreds, to have to make split-second judgment calls out there, knowing whoever he chose to leave behind might die before he could return.
Still, he had to admit, saving even one life made what he did worthwhile. He could still be proud of himself each and every time he got someone out of a life or death situation. It didn’t alleviate his grief over the times when people died, but the successful rescues did help him to maintain a positive attitude toward his decision to keep up his mission as Superman. But there were still times when he couldn’t help the nightmares that followed a rescue gone wrong.
“That didn’t sound too convincing,” Lois said with a frown. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing,” Clark brushed it off. “Just tired. After I went back home, I still had a rough time falling asleep.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, Clark,” Lois said sympathetically. She rose from her seat and gently massaged his shoulders. “You could have called me.”
“Thanks,” he said gratefully. “But there was no sense in having both of us awake in the middle of the night.”
“Well…I guess that’s true,” Lois conceded, giving him a quick, feather-light kiss on his lips.
He kissed her back a little harder, groaning in bliss. “Maybe I should have visited you after all,” he smiled through their kiss. “Just a few of your kisses would have calmed my mind instantly.”
Lois smiled as she pulled away. “I said called, not visited,” she gently teased.
“Semantics,” he lightly tossed back with a tiny grin.
She laughed in response. It appeared she was about to respond with a retort of her own when Clark’s phone began to ring. He gave her an apologetic look, then he moved to his desk to answer the call.
“Clark Kent,” he answered on the third ring.
“Kent, hey. It’s Henderson,” came the reply.
“Hey, Bill,” Clark greeted the policeman.
“You have a few minutes?”
“Absolutely,” Clark said with a shallow nod, though the man couldn’t see it. “What do you need?”
“It’s more like I have something for you,” Henderson corrected him. “Specifically, Joey Bermuda,” he said, as if that explained everything.
“He talked?” Clark asked, surprised. He hadn’t expected to hear anything so early, if at all that day.
“Yeah, he talked,” Henderson confirmed. There was a pause. “He, uh…you might want to be sitting down for this,” he warned.
“What? Did he name the President or something?” Clark joked.
“He might as well have,” Henderson deadpanned.
That got Clark’s attention. He sat down, his body stiff, every muscle coiled as if ready for a fight.
“Who?” was all Clark could ask.
“A friend of yours,” Henderson replied sarcastically. “Believe it or not, he named Lex Luthor as one who hired him to carry out the bombing.”
At least it was sarcasm in Henderson’s voice, rather than an actual accusation of friendship with Luthor. While, it was well known that Clark and Luthor were personally acquainted, it was also no secret that Clark was not a fan of the multi-billionaire.
Clark froze in shock, blinking rapidly as his vocal chords ceased to function. His eyes darted about the bullpen. It seemed surreal that his coworkers all continued to move about in their normal routines, as if a bombshell hadn’t just gone off in Clark’s ear. For one stomach-churning moment, he wondered if he’d heard right, or if Henderson was making a joke at Clark’s expense. But no, Henderson was a good man. He’d never make light of something so important or of such a sensitive topic.
“Kent? You still there?” Henderson worriedly prompted after half a minute.
“Uh…yeah. But…are…are you sure?” Clark asked in halting tones as his voice finally crept out of hiding.
“Positive. I’m the one he told.”
Clark let out a low whistle as he processed the information. “Did he say why?”
“Said he had no idea why. That Luthor’s manservant, Nigel, contacted him about the job, offering an amount he said he would have been insane to refuse.”
“I buy the ‘insane’ description,” Clark quipped, squeezing a stress relief ball that was sitting on his desk. It was blue with the Superman S on it. Jimmy had given Lois and Clark each one after snagging a few goody bags at the rally when Superman had been presented with the key to the city for his good works.
“About the money or Joey Bermuda?” Henderson asked, sounding amused.
“Both,” Clark automatically replied.
Henderson snorted a chuckle. “Anyway,” he said, deftly returning to back to the business at hand, “he said he never spoke directly with Luthor. But it was obvious that Nigel was approaching on his boss’ behalf. He said he never asks why someone wants a job done, just the when, where, and how much money.”
“Safer for him,” Clark said absently.
“I think so, yeah. Too many questions can get a man like Joey a one-way ticket to the bottom of Hobb’s Bay.”
“Right,” Clark responded with a nod of his head, though of course Henderson couldn’t see it. “Okay, I guess the next thing is…do we have proof of any of this?”
“We’re working on it. It’s our top priority right now,” Henderson assured him. “I’ll let you know if we find anything. And if you and Lois do…” he said, letting his voice trail off in an unfinished question.
“We’ll share whatever we find, if anything,” Clark promised.
“Thanks, Kent.” Clark could almost hear the Inspector shaking his head. “I don’t know how you two find half the leads you do but…well, I’m grateful that you do. And for your cooperation.”
“We’re always happy to help,” Clark said, squeezing the stress ball, forgetting, for the moment, that he was doing so. “Thanks, Bill. We’ll be in touch the moment we know anything.”
“Thanks. And the same with me. I’ll call you once I know anything more. But for now, I have to ask you keep this information between the three of us.”
“Not a problem, Bill.”
There was a faint click!/i] as the phone connection was severed. Clark listened to the dial tone for a moment, lost in his own thoughts.
Luthor! What could that spineless, gutless, downright evil demon in a tailor-fit business suit have hoped to gain with having the Planet blown up? After all, it wasn’t like he was in the paper’s crosshairs as the subject of an investigation. If anything, the Planet had been more than kind to the man. After Luthor had agreed to break his media silence and given Lois the exclusive interview with him – the one and [i]only interview he’d given to any reporter of any news source – the Planet had painted him in quite the positive light.
Of course, Clark knew better than to be blinded by the sickeningly sweet public veneer that Luthor put on to fool the public. Though he still had no proof – only his gut instinct – he didn’t trust Luthor one bit. He had never trusted the billionaire. Not the first time he’d been introduced to Luthor and certainly not now. Every time he was in the man’s presence, Clark’s hackles rose and he got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was worse now than ever before, now that he’d had a few encounters with Luthor while in the disguise of Superman. For whatever reason, Luthor was less skilled at hiding his true, insidious nature before the superhero’s steely gaze. Perhaps, Clark thought, Luthor knew that Superman wasn’t buying his innocent, philanthropist act, whereas the rest of society usually bought right into it, without thinking.
One of these days, I’ll find the proof I need, Clark vowed to himself once again. Maybe the Planet bombing – if this is true – will give me the opportunity to finally get him behind bars. As it is, I’m fairly sure he’s behind most of the crime in Metropolis. More so than even Intergang.
Clark hung up the phone as he pulled himself from his thoughts. Lois looked over as he placed the headset back in its cradle. Then she stood and crossed the aisle that separated their desks.
“Wrong number?” she joked.
Clark shook his head, still somewhat dazed. “Funny. That was Henderson.”
Lois’ interest rose. Clark could tell by the way her eyes widened and her eyebrows lifted. “Really? What’d he have to say?”
“Joey Bermuda talked,” Clark replied, lowering his voice so their coworkers wouldn’t be able to hear. “Apparently Lex Luthor is the one who ordered the hit on the Planet.”
The word shock was too mild to describe the look on Lois’ face. Her mouth dropped open and her jaw worked for a moment without any sound issuing forth. Her eyes went wide and she blinked rapidly. She shook her head in obvious disbelief. “You’re kidding!” she finally managed.
“Shh!” Clark warned, with a furtive glance around. “I swore we’d keep this information just to ourselves. If word got out, it could throw a wrench into investigating how true that claim is.”
Lois nodded. “You’re right.” Then, softer, “But…why?”
“That’s part of what Bill’s team is working on. And what I think you and I should look into…provided it’s true.”
“Where do you want to start?” Lois asked.
“Luthor’s always about the money,” Clark said as his mind raced. “Maybe we should start there.”
“Where though? It’s not like Lex has a financial interest in the Planet.” Lois argued.
“Maybe not. But what if he was trying to?” The thought struck Clark’s brain out of nowhere. “Let’s try talking to Mr. Stern. Maybe he has an idea.”
“I thought we weren’t supposed to be letting on that we have suspicions,” Lois countered.
Clark shrugged. “So, we keep it vague. Come on, Lois, it’s worth a shot.”
“I agree,” she said. “But you’re right. We have to be careful to keep it vague.”
“I’ll call Mr. Stern’s office,” Clark said decisively. “And see if we can schedule a meeting.”
***
Two days later, their patience was rewarded with a meeting in Mr. Stern’s office. Clark discreetly looked around the spacious room, impressed by the tasteful, though obviously rich décor. It spoke of a man who’d done quite well for himself, and who enjoyed life’s luxuries, but who didn’t try to flaunt his wealth. Still, Clark knew the paintings on the walls were each worth tens of thousands of dollars, if he wasn’t mistaken. Clark had never met the artist in person, but he’d helped Bruce procure several of the artist’s paintings as gifts for a few of Bruce’s friends, back when Clark had still been living in Wayne Manor.
“Thanks for meeting with us, Mr. Stern,” Lois said as he welcomed them into his office.
“My pleasure,” the older man said in a deep, rumbling voice. He smiled at them both as he shook first Lois’ hand, then Clark’s. “Granted, I was surprised to hear that you both wanted a meeting with me. But for the two best reporters at my newspaper? I’ll always happily make time for that.”
“We really appreciate that, sir,” Clark said humbly.
“Please, take a seat. Can I get you a drink perhaps? A cold soda? Ice water? Lemonade?” Mr. Stern offered.
“Oh, uh, sure. A lemonade sounds great,” Clark said, mostly because it seemed like Mr. Stern really hoped they’d take him up on his offer.
Lois seemed to take the hint as Clark nudged her subtly. “Same for me, if it’s not too much trouble,” she said.
“No trouble at all.” Mr. Stern grinned and went to the wall.
There, perfectly camouflaged against the mahogany wood of the office, was a hidden refrigerator. Mr. Stern pulled out two glass bottles of pink lemonade, and a bottle of Coke for himself. He popped off the bottle caps and brought the drinks over to where Lois and Clark had taken seats on the tan leather couch. Then he sat in a matching armchair. In silence, they drank.
“Wow,” Lois complimented after swallowing down the first sip. “That’s delicious!”
“I’m glad you like it,” Mr. Stern said with approval. “I recently took over a bottling company. I insist on glass bottles only. It may be a little more expensive, but in the long run, it’s worth it. There’s something fresher about the taste of a drink in a glass bottle, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Actually, yes,” Clark immediately answered. “I’ve always thought the same thing. Where I grew up in Kansas, at the local grocery store, we always had Coke in glass bottles. When I had my first one out of a plastic bottle, it didn’t quite taste the same.”
Mr. Stern roared a laugh. “Good man!” He slapped his knee in amusement as his laughter continued to rock his body. When he was finally done, he coughed, cleared his throat, and wiped at his eyes. “So…let’s get down to business, shall we? What is it that brings you to my office today?”
“The Planet’s bombing,” Clark said, sitting forward a little and steepling his fingers.
“What about it?” Mr. Stern asked. “Is there some new information?”
“Nothing concrete,” Lois hastily replied. “Just some a new angle we’re pursuing.”
“I see. Well, I’m happy to provide whatever information I can. But…I thought the bomber was caught?”
“He was,” Clark confirmed. “But knowing what we know about him…he’s not the type to take down a building just for the sake of blowing things up.”
“Someone would have paid him to do it,” Mr. Stern said, nodding to himself.
“Exactly,” Clark said, nodding as well.
Mr. Stern hummed to himself thoughtfully. “So…what is it, exactly, that you need from me? If I knew who ordered the bombing, I would have told the police.”
“Oh, we know,” Lois said with a chuckle when Mr. Stern cracked a small smile.
“We were wondering if…if anything…out of the ordinary happened before the bombing. Anything at all, at any time,” Clark said.
“Let me think,” Mr. Stern said, looking up at the ceiling while he thought. “I’m not sure if this helps at all, but, about a month…maybe a month and a half…before the bombing, I was thinking about selling the paper.”
“What!?” Lois gasped in shock.
Mr. Stern nodded. “It’s true. I was thinking about selling quite a few of my businesses…kick back a little, enjoy myself, maybe retire to my place in the mountains, fishing my days away in utter relaxation.”
“Sounds like Perry’s dream too,” Clark commented, the corners of his mouth turning upwards in the slightest smile.
The older man laughed again, hard. “Bah, that old newshound will never retire!”
Lois and Clark laughed along with him.
“I’d have to agree with that,” Lois replied. “I swear, he probably has it in his will to have his ashes left in the newsroom, so he can spend eternity haunting this place and making sure we reporters turn in only the most excellent work possible.”
That made the paper’s owner laugh all the more deeply. So deeply, in fact, that he started to sputter and cough for several long minutes until he was left nearly breathless.
“You know what? I like the two of you,” Mr. Stern said with a bright grin and approval in his voice. “Anyway, like I was saying. I toyed around with the idea of selling, but I kept the information fairly secretive. I didn’t want to cause a panic, you understand. There was no sense in making Perry…and, by extension, you and your fellow reporters, worried for no reason, when I wasn’t a hundred percent sure I really was going to go through with it.”
“Makes sense,” Clark said. “People tend to act unpredictably. Maybe even quit, if they feel like their job is in danger.”
“Right. So, I only mentioned it to a few people. People who had expressed interest in possibly getting into the news business, or who I thought might be up to the task of running a paper. But then the Planet was attacked and, well, it put a new fire in me. I dropped any notion I had of selling. I was determined to not only rebuild the Planet but to make it better than ever.”
“Mr. Stern? Who did you tell? Who knew that you were thinking of selling the paper?” Clark asked. He shot a look at Lois, and it was clear she’d been about to ask the same question.
“Not many,” Mr. Stern said. Again, he looked to the ceiling as he thought. “There was your friend, Bruce Wayne.”
“Bruce? Really?” Clark knew his jaw was slack in surprise. “He never said a word to me.”
The older man nodded. “I’m not surprised to hear it. He wasn’t comfortable with the idea of owning the paper you work for.”
“I believe that,” Clark said with a nod. “Besides, he told me years ago that he could have bought the Gotham Gazette at one point. He turned down the offer because he said he felt ill equipped to run a paper.”
“That’s what he told me too.”
“Who else knew?” Lois asked, putting the conversation back on track.
“Arthur Chow. Lena Janek. Allison Macking,” Mr. Stern said, ticking off the names on his fingers as he continued on. Clark recognized all of the names. The were all extremely wealthy individuals, and several of them owned other news sources. After nine or ten names, Mr. Stern shrugged. “And, Lex Luthor.”
It was like a bolt of lightning shot through Clark at the mention of Luthor’s name.
“Luthor?” he asked, needing the clarification and shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
“Yes,” Mr. Stern said, looking confused. “He seemed pretty interested, until I decided not to sell.”
“When did you decide to keep the paper?” Lois asked.
“And did Luthor know?” added Clark.
“Oh…I guess it was maybe three weeks before the attack,” Mr. Stern said, rubbing his chin. “My wife and I were talking over dinner one night and she convinced me to keep the paper. Lex and I happened to run into each other a few days later. He made an offer, but I turned him down and said I’d changed my mind.”
“What’d he say to that?” Lois asked, jotting down notes.
“Not much. Uh…he said he was sorry he wouldn’t get the chance to take the helm. And then he congratulated me on my decision. I guess…he alluded to the idea that, if I changed my mind again, his offer would stand. But then the bombing happened and I never heard about it again. Although, I have to say, the attack? It strengthened my resolve more than ever. That’s why I put so much money into the remodel, to ensure that everything was top of the line. I figured someone had a good reason for targeting us and I was determined to throw it in their face that we will not be intimidated. That we’d come back stronger than ever.” Mr. Stern smiled grimly. “Where I once wondered if I should move on from the news business, now I will own this paper until I die and they the Daily Planet from my cold, dead hands.”
“I think we can all appreciate that,” Clark said sincerely. “There’s no denying that you’ve been a great boss to all of us.”
“Well, thank you for saying that,” the owner said with a pleased grin.
“Clark’s right. Everyone at the Planet seems so much happier since you took things over a few years ago. Clark wasn’t here while Mr. Harold owned the paper. But I was. And, well, there’s no yearning for the olden days,” Lois added.
“So I’ve heard,” Mr. Stern said with an almost absent-minded nod. “The management has told me, in detail, of how things used to be run.”
“Mr. Stern? Was that anything else out of the ordinary that happened before the attack?” Clark prompted, although he felt like they might have the connection to Luthor that they needed.
The man thought for a moment, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair as he did so. “No,” he finally said, “I don’t think so. Not even my lawyers knew I was thinking of selling. And, as I told the police, I didn’t receive any threats or anything. The bombing happened out of the blue, with no warning.”
“Did you tell the police about any of this? That you’d toyed with the idea of selling?” Lois asked, taking the question right out of Clark’s mouth.
“I mentioned it, but they didn’t seem terribly interested. It’s not like anyone was trying to force me to sell.”
Forced to sell! That’s it! Clark’s mind screamed.
“Thank you, Mr. Stern, for your time and information,” Clark said suddenly.
“Any time. I hope I was able to help you in some way.”
“I think you may have given us the angle we need,” Clark replied with a grim smile.
***
I should have known, Clark mentally admonished himself ten minutes later from the passenger seat of Lois’ Jeep. It has to be Luthor. I’ve always known he’s not the great philanthropist he makes himself out to be. He’s evil to the core, even if no one else can see it. I need to prove it though. The question is…how?
“So, what do you think?” Lois asked later, as they drove through the streets of Metropolis, heading for the Jade Tiger – Lois’ favorite Chinese Restaurant in the city.
“Huh? What?” Clark sputtered, blinking, as he tore himself out of his thoughts.
“You haven’t said two words since we left Mr. Stern’s office,” Lois clarified. “You looked like you held the secret to the universe while we were there, but now…? You look…troubled.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what Mr. Stern told us,” Clark replied. “And it all points to Luthor.”
“I think so too,” Lois confided.
“I think he ordered the hit on the Planet in order to try to scare Mr. Stern back away from his decision not to sell. Maybe he thought that something that disturbing would make Mr. Stern hesitant to keep the paper. After all, who wants to own something that’s been a target of a terrorist attack, because who knows if it will be hit again?”
“Okay. So, let’s say it had worked and Mr. Stern turned tail and sold the paper. Lex would have swooped in and bought the business,” Lois continued, following his train of thought.
“Putting him in charge of one of the most important news sources in the world,” Clark added. “And giving him the potential ability to control what information gets out to the public or not.”
“But if the building had come down…that’s not exactly a cheap rebuild. Mr. Stern spent millions on the renovation, and the damage was minimal. I can’t imagine what it would have cost if the entire building needed to be built from the ground up.”
Clark shrugged. “Pocket change for Luthor.”
“Even so,” Lois said, conceding the point, “Lex seems more…I don’t know. Practical about his money. Why would he risk needlessly spending that kind of money?”
“His image,” Clark said with another, less exaggerated shrug. “Can you imagine what the public would have said about the ‘good guy billionaire’ who saved The Daily Planet?”
“You really believe he would have spent so much just to look good?” Lois asked incredulously.
“There’s not a doubt in my mind,” Clark instantly and calmly replied.
“I don’t know, Clark…”
“Lois, I’ve known the man for years,” Clark interrupted gently. “He would starve a puppy just to make a grand show of giving it a feast later on, for the sole purpose of making himself look like the puppy’s benevolent savior. He ordered the hit on the Planet. I know it. We just have to prove it.”
Lois glanced over at him as they stopped at a red light. She looked uncertain, but determined to get to the bottom of things.
“So let’s prove it, partner.”
To Be Continued…
