Supercop II: The Black Knight -- 2/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
"What did Wolfe say?"
"Not much. I tried to hint her in the direction of staying with her fiance until the police find the perp, but she's not sure it would look right."
"He was sleeping in her bed," Clark pointed out. "What's the difference?"
"I didn't say it was logical," Lois said, shortly. "Maybe she's afraid her mother will find out or something."
"I guess it's possible. On the other hand, her mother probably wouldn't want her to be hurt by this guy, either, would she?"
Lois shrugged. "I just hope she's careful."
**********
And now, Part 2:
William Henderson looked up from his desk at the sound of a hesitant knock on his door. John Braxton, known to everyone at the 12th Precinct as Johnny, stood diffidently in the opening and as he raised his hand to knock on the frame a second time, Henderson waved him inside. "What's up?"
"Um -- Ultra Woman is at the desk, sir. She wants to talk to you, and she says she won't leave until she does. Should I let her in?"
Henderson rigorously repressed the urge to grin. Apparently his reputation with the new graduates of the Academy was such as to inspire respect bordering on awe. Enough, at least, that they were willing to withstand even the demand of a superhero to speak to him. That was something, considering the civilian persona of the superhero in question. He'd be willing to bet a month's salary that Lois had not couched the request so politely. Or even that she had phrased it as a request. He wondered how long the attitude would last. "Sure. Send her in."
As he spoke, the pink-clad form of Ultra Woman appeared in the doorway behind Johnny. "Nice of you to see me, Henderson."
Johnny fled. Lois entered the room and shut the door with a firm click.
"Really, Lois," Henderson said mildly, "you don't need to scare the kids to death. A phone call would be sufficient."
"I called four times. Your secretary -- or whoever she was -- kept telling me you were busy," Lois said, darkly. "I needed to ask you for a favor, so I decided to come in person."
"And that would be?"
"I need a copy of that print that Wolfe lifted from the Midtown Rapist's knife. Jimmy's going to do a search for me -- see if there's any record of this guy being arrested in any other state. If we can identify him --"
"And how would Olsen find out about that?" Henderson asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
"Never mind that. Can you get me a copy?"
Henderson snorted. "I'll see what I can do. She's not a secretary, though," he added. "I'll tell you what -- I'll give you my new cell phone number so you don't have to go through the switchboard. But be damn sure what you're calling about is important. Deal?"
"I guess so. It would sure improve things," Lois said. "This guy has to be stopped. If we can figure out who to watch, we might catch him in the act -- so to speak."
Henderson nodded. "If you do find out anything, don't give his prospective lawyer any grounds for false arrest or anything."
"Not a chance," Lois said.
"All right. I'll try to have it for you by this afternoon."
"Thanks," Lois said.
Henderson produced a business card and scrawled a number on the back. "Here. I didn't think I was going to have a use for these things."
"Business cards?" Lois asked. "Why would a cop need business cards?"
"Don't ask me. They handed them out four months ago. I think our computer guy was testing out some new software. So far, counting this one, I've used three of them."
"Oh." Lois took the card. "Well, thanks. We'll let you know what we find."
"You do that," Henderson said. "If we could convince the powers that be to upgrade the computer system around here -- and maybe tie it in to some kind of nationwide database -- we might have a better chance of tracking these characters, but it all comes down to the bottom line."
"Money," Lois said.
"You got it." Henderson got to his feet. "Now, I have a meeting to attend. I'll send that stuff over as soon as I can get hold of it."
**********
The Police Commissioner's meeting was just as exhilarating as Henderson had expected. He didn't go to sleep, but it was a near thing until the man brought up the tribute to Superman, two weeks ago. The official pat on the back was nice, of course, but it wasn't exactly high priority. Then had come the discussion of the recent appearance of the Black Knight and the reappearance of Ultra Woman. Apparently, the city had received a request to transfer one of them to New York City, and the representative that had contacted him seemed to be unable to comprehend that the Metropolis authorities had no say whatsoever in the matter. Police Commissioner Brighton was at his wit's end, trying to get across to the woman the fact that the superheroes were independent of the Metropolis police force, and that, if they chose not to change locations, there was nothing that Brighton could do about it. He asked all those in attendance to keep the information in mind and to pass it, and a request to contact Brighton, along to Ultra Woman, Superman and the Black Knight, should one of them have the good fortune to encounter one of them in the near future. Henderson made a mental note to drop by to see the man this afternoon when he had the time -- after he had spoken to his super-powered colleagues. He had no wish to switch his base of operations, especially considering his position in the Metropolis Police Department, and he was equally certain that Lois didn't, but it would be just as well to be able to say that he had already spoken to them on the subject.
Shortly afterwards the meeting broke up. Henderson left the conference room more convinced than ever that such meetings were a waste of time, and only conducted by the people in charge so that they could justify the department's budget at the end of the quarter. Halfway down the hall, headed toward his office, he nearly ran into Detective Wolfe as the man exited the restroom. Now would be a good time to make his request, he decided. "Jim, could I have a minute of your time?"
"Huh? Sure." The detective fell in beside him. "What's up?"
"I had a visit from Ultra Woman a little while ago. She'd like a copy of the print your guys got from the Midtown Rapist crime scene this morning. Would you mind if I give it to her?"
"Huh?" Wolfe looked surprised. "I guess not. If she thinks it'll help nab this guy, I'm all for any help we can give her. He's a pain in the --" He broke off as one of their female colleagues passed by. "Did she say how she plans to use 'em?"
"Not exactly," Henderson said, resisting the urge to cross his fingers. Kent's bad habits were rubbing off on him more than he'd realized. "I got the impression she's trying to connect him to crimes outside the state."
"Hmm. Well, I wish her luck." Wolfe scowled. "To tell you the truth, the guy makes my skin crawl every time I investigate one of his visits. At least this time we got a bit lucky. Forensics was able to pick the print of his left thumb and pinky finger from the inside of the glove, along with the print on the knife blade. I'll send everything over to you as soon as I get the rest of the lab results. Tell Ultra Woman I said we can use the help, will you?"
"I'll do that," Henderson said. "Thanks." He glanced at his watch. "I have to go. I'm speaking at a Metropolis High assembly."
"Recruiting for law enforcement?" Wolfe asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Not exactly," Henderson said. "They're doing an anti-drug campaign. I guess they figured I had two things going for me. Cop and alumnus. Maybe it'll discourage one or two of the kids from doing something stupid."
"Oh. Well, good luck. Watch out for the groupies."
"Yeah, right," Henderson said. "Wrong age bracket."
Wolfe snorted. "They don't seem to think so about the Knight. He must be about your age."
"Yeah, but I don't fly," Henderson said. "Big handicap; besides, can you see me running around in that getup?"
The idea seemed to cause Wolfe a minor convulsion. Henderson grinned and headed for the parking lot.
**********
Of course, it was as he pulled out of his parking space that the first call of the day for the Black Knight came. He continued to drive until he had put several streets between himself and the station and then pulled into a public parking lot. An alley opened up between the nearby dry-cleaning establishment and a car wash, and Henderson ducked quickly into it, glancing at his watch. A tractor-trailer had jackknifed on the Seaside Expressway. Its gas tank was leaking and traffic was already backing up. Hopefully, he could clean it up quickly and still make it to the school on time. If it looked as if he was going to be late, he would have to call and give them time to rearrange the order of the speakers.
Several police were already on the scene when he arrived and were directing traffic away from the accident. Two men were trying to extricate the driver from the cab, heedless of the gasoline that ran past their feet. Henderson landed beside them. "Need some help?"
"Yeah," one of the men said. "The door's jammed."
"Right. You two move back from the gas," Henderson said. "If something throws a spark I don't want you caught in the fire."
The two men moved back and Henderson forced his fingers into the gap between the crumpled door and frame. Careful not to scrape metal against metal and inadvertently strike a deadly spark, he gripped firmly and inexorably forced the door free. The driver was semiconscious and Henderson x-rayed his neck and spine quickly to determine if there were any injuries that he needed to worry about. Finding none, he lifted the man quickly and carried him to a safe distance from the gasoline.
While Henderson was working, the paramedic van had arrived and he was able to hand his burden over to them. Quickly, he moved to locate the leak and squeeze the edges together, stopping the flow of gas. Other emergency services were arriving. He watched them move competently in to cover the spilled gas with fire-retardant foam, and after a moment's consideration, approached the team leader. "Give me a little room and I'll move that thing out of the way for you," he said.
The man nodded and lifted the bullhorn to his lips.
Henderson waited while people moved back, taking advantage of the time to decide how best to lift the thing. When the area had been cleared, the team leader turned back to him. "If you can lift it over to the shoulder it will give us more room to move traffic around it," he said. "We'll be better able to work with all these cars out of here."
"All right." Henderson had decided by now what the best technique would be and moved in to lift the enormous device cautiously a few feet off the ground. Carefully, he floated it to the designated location and lowered it to the ground again. He again approached the man in charge. "Do you need me for anything else?" he inquired.
The man shook his head. "Nope; that'll do it. Thanks for your help, sir. This makes things a lot easier."
"You're welcome," he said automatically, and lifted into the air. If he hurried, he would be able to clean off the gas fumes and still make it to the assembly with a few minutes to spare. He'd have to pick up his car from the lot, later.
**********
Sue was sitting in front of the television with her feet up when he walked in through the back door. He whisked into the bathroom for a quick shower and walked out seconds later, dressed in another set of clothes. Sue waved at the television. "They were just showing the accident."
"Yeah. Couldn't have hit at a worse time," he said. "Sorry to rush right off, but I have to be at Metro High's assembly in five minutes for that anti-drug campaign of theirs. How are you feeling?"
"The same," Sue said. She made a face. "I'm getting tired of running to the bathroom every two minutes, though. If something starts to happen, you'll be the first to know."
He dropped a kiss on her lips. "Call me if you need me. I have my cell phone with me. And wish me luck." In the blink of an eye, he was on his way toward the high school, moving fast enough that no one would be able to spot Inspector Henderson flying. Two minutes later, he dropped to a soft landing between a storage shed and one of the temporary buildings in the rear of the high school's main office, straightened his glasses, adjusted his tie and made sure that everything was in place. Casually, he strolled out into the sunlight, headed for the high school's auditorium to let them know that he was here. He had just under three minutes to spare.
**********
Norma Randall yawned widely as she sat near the front of the traffic jam. She had completed her grocery shopping and was now headed home for a solid eight hours of sleep, and of course had managed to get caught behind the jackknifed tractor-trailer. She had resigned herself to hours of waiting and creeping through masses of traffic, moving with the speed of a snail, when she saw the black-clad figure of Metropolis's newest superhero touch down to a landing beside the disabled vehicle. She had never seen the Knight in person before, although she had, of course, seen him on television a number of times. He was taller than she had realized -- probably about six feet, she estimated automatically, with a lean, sinewy build. His shoulders were broad, as might be expected, and he moved with a businesslike air that she found vaguely familiar. Of course, she'd seen the man on television enough that it wasn't really surprising. Still, how often did you get to see one of the superheroes in person? With one hand, she fished the binoculars from under the driver's seat and trained them on the Knight, watching him as he pried the door of the tractor-trailer open with one hand and, after a pause, lifted the driver gently from the cab of the wrecked vehicle. She followed him with the binoculars as he deposited the rescued man onto the paramedic's stretcher and then returned to speak to the individual who was apparently directing clean-up operations. People moved back, and she watched with admiration as the relatively tiny human being -- or Kryptonian, probably, she reflected with a faint grin -- moved the enormous machine carefully to the side of the expressway. A moment later, he lifted off and vanished in a streak of black.
Norma put the binoculars on the passenger seat, still gazing thoughtfully upward in the direction that the black-clad superhero had vanished. After a moment, she shook her head. The sense of familiarity was deceptive, she thought, but for a very brief second, watching the man in action, the impression had flitted through her mind that she knew him.
"Nah," she said after a moment. "You're sleep-deprived, Randall. It's just one of those things."
The van in front of her was beginning to inch forward, and she eased up on the clutch, allowing her car to creep after it. It seemed as if the Black Knight's intervention had speeded things up considerably. Maybe she'd get home in time to get a decent day's sleep after all. She would be awfully happy, she reflected, not for the first time, to be off the night shift. The lack of sleep was making her imagine things.
**********
tbc
