Continued from:
CHAPTER 6a/? - New Routine [CHAPTER 6b: Suspicions]
Lois sipped at her coffee, absorbed in the thirty fourth police report she had opened so far. Normally they were dull, but she had already discovered something rather ominous and she had a feeling she had just grazed the edge of it.
She froze, her eyes zeroing in on a name. She put the page down and quickly leafed through a document on a pile beside her.
“This is insane,” she whispered, swiping a highlighter and circling a name among the Board of Zoning Appeals before jotting down a note on a list she was compiling.
It was the ninth thus far. She went back to the top of the list, shaking her head.
“Mr. Yomi Talicur,” she muttered, stating the ninth name that had sent up a red flag.
At first she wasn’t sure if it would be a waste of time, but as the hours wore on, she was grateful she had just asked Henderson for ALL of the police reports involving incidents -- accidents and crimes -- dated that day.
The car accident Superman had arrived at right before the first bomb went off had of course been one of several dozen accidents that occurred that day, but Lois quickly realized--as the police report indicated--it was not an accident.
It was also not the first orchestrated ‘car accident’ that day--at least that was her theory.
There were four other car accidents within a two mile radius of one another before the bombings, and all of them contained individuals with direct and indirect connections to various city boards, commissions, and banking firms. What sent up red flags was not only the individuals in the cars but the timing. These accidents each occurred within 70 to 85 minutes apart, one after another. That was not normal for that area of town, and there was nothing going on in that area that would explain a surplus of accidents -- especially as the next accident in that area after the bombings, a simple fender bender, was five hours later with seemingly no links to the previous ones.
Which led her to making a leap in logic that provided the only sensible conclusion she could see.
They had baited Superman. But it didn't end there.
The bombing locations were conveniently placed near individuals and businesses financially linked to a number of boards and firms. And a frightening percentage of victims listed from the bomb sites could also not be considered coincidental if one identified their circles of influence.
Lois shook her head, doubting anyone was digging into this like she was because who would consider it worth looking into when the motive appeared to be clear? To test Superman.
But what she was uncovering . . . it was as if someone was trying to get certain people out of the way or threaten them. It was ten times worse than a demonstration of power from the mafia decades before.
She glanced at the second list she was making. She would be sure to deliver it to Henderson in person as soon as she had finished going through the rest of the reports. It included all of the ‘car accidents’ she felt should be reviewed--specifically the cars involved. She would be astonished if those cars did not have a similar device Superman had found on the initial car. A device that disrupted the vehicle’s controls and thus caused it to suddenly crash.
She rubbed her eyes before looking back at the main list she was working on.
“What do you all have in common besides being important and powerful people?” she asked aloud. “Whoever you ticked off is extremely powerful and no doubt corrupt.” She frowned, a chilling revelation piercing her core. “If I’m right, this could get me killed . . . or a Pulitzer,” she breathed. “But it makes so much sense . . . it’s the Boss.”
She tapped her lips with a tight white fist, unsure if she should be extremely pleased with herself or horrified.
She needed to speak with Henderson.
O o O o O
Henderson put down the test results that had finally completed and leaned back in his desk chair, both excited and worried, for whoever was responsible for it all was far more powerful than he had initially feared.
The bombs used in the 'testing’ of Superman were remarkably similar to the bomb used in the attempted sabotage of the Messenger, in that the components came from the same source and were very likely assembled by the same party, due to the similar composition and design. He knew Kent would find this information very interesting and likely as alarming as he found it, especially after learning what they had from Wójcik.
His desk phone suddenly rang.
“Henderson,” he stated.
“Lois Lane is here to see you, she says it’s urgent,” Marge, the woman at the front desk, stated, her voice bored.
“Very well, send her back,” he said, wondering if he should be suspicious of her timing.
Occasionally, he wondered if she had an inside contact at the precinct. Her ability to just show up when something was going on or about to happen was uncanny. Granted, there was that janitor he had seen her talking to one time. . . .
A moment later, Lois knocked on his open door.
“Come in, Ms. Lane,” he said, waving her in.
She stepped in without a word before closing the door surely behind her. He raised an eyebrow.
“We secure here?” she asked, her tone unusually serious.
He frowned. “Yes, why?” he asked.
“If you have any doubt, we should go elsewhere. This information cannot be overheard,” she said.
He stared at her, noting how firmly she was gripping her camel-colored briefcase in her arms.
“I take it this involves all of the police and accident reports you requested.”
She didn’t answer.
“Where would you like to go?” he asked. One could never be too careful, especially in technically public buildings. As much as he didn't want to admit it, not even his office was completely secure.
“Come with me,” she said.
He followed her out, but decided to grab the bomb evidence report. Might as well share his disturbing news after she shared whatever had spooked her.
They took his car, since she had taken a cab, and only after he started the car and began pulling out did she direct him to go to her apartment. He glanced at her as he drove, noting her grim expression and the flat line of her lips. She was rarely this quiet.
They entered her apartment complex and went down a hallway.
“Good evening, Lois,” her neighbor greeted.
“Good evening, Mrs. Lonham. Do you need any help with anything?” Lois asked.
“Oh, no, dear, not tonight. Thanks for asking though,” she assured with a tender smile.
Lois smiled back as Lonham went about her business, her portable oxygen tank on wheels beside her.
She liked Mrs. Lonham. She was a sweet elderly woman who Lois helped with groceries and the like occasionally. She was getting up in years and now required near full time oxygen. Though she refused to confirm, Lois believed the kind woman was unfortunately in the severe stage of COPD, with 30 to 50 percent lung function.
Mentally shaking her head at the injustice of such a gentle soul suffering such a fate, she continued to her door. Henderson remained silent.
“Thanks for humoring me,” she said quietly as she began the ritual of unlocking her seven locks.
“No problem, Ms. Lane,” he said, following her in before closing the door.
She relocked everything before going to the side bookshelf and turning on her radio, putting the volume just above the level of normal conversation. She motioned to the couch.
“I hope you’re just being overly cautious,” he stated.
“I think when you learn what I have discovered you’ll agree I can’t be too cautious with this,” she said, sitting down next to him and handing him her folder.
He took it and began scanning it. His eyes widened as he got a bitter taste in his mouth.
“Oh my Lord,” he whispered.
“Yeah,” she agreed.
“No, it’s worse. Look at this,” he said, handing her the evidence report.
She muttered a curse. “This is huge. Huge! This is. . . .” She looked up from the papers, instantly connecting even more dots. “Oh, gawd. LexCorp!”
He nodded, grave.
“Lex Luthor?” she asked in a horrified whisper.
“I don’t know. It could be, or it could be someone on his board or someone else high up,” he admitted.
“I don’t see how all of this could be happening and him not know,” she stated.
“I agree, but whoever is responsible is ingenious and has stayed hidden for a very long time. Maybe he has Luthor fooled too.”
“Or maybe he’s working with him, assuming he’s not Luthor himself,” Lois muttered darkly.
Henderson nodded, agreeing with her but not wanting them to make any assumptions.
“We should bring Kent in on this. He’s been looking into The Boss as well and seems to be making some progress. Maybe together we can find some hard evidence because, as frightening as this is, it can all be excused as circumstantial. Nothing is clearly identifying the Boss, only that he has a very likely connection to LexCorp,” he said, motioning to their folders.
“Kent? The PI?” she asked.
“I see you’ve heard of him,” he said, unsurprised. “Yes, Clark Kent. He’s been helping us out on a few cases and has solved a number of cold ones for us the last few months.”
“And he can be trusted?” she asked. Of course her research indicated he was legit and a good detective, but this was not just any case. It didn’t involve two or three families, it involved the whole city--and possibly a lot further considering how far reaching LexCorp was.
“Yes. He’s one of the few people I would trust with my family’s lives,” he said unwaveringly.
Lois blinked. She wasn’t even sure if Henderson trusted her that much.
“All right. Just let me know when and where,” she said.
He nodded. “Have you made copies of all this?”
“Yeah. Ran to the copy shop not long after I figured it out early this morning. I have the originals in a lockbox at the bank.”
“And I'm sure you already attached a condition clause to it if anything were to happen to you,” he said, not sure if he should be worried about how far ahead she planned.
“Darn right I did. Here, you can have this copy,” she said, stacking the papers up for him.
“Thank you, Lois. We'll get to the bottom of this. Let me know if you suspect if anyone is on to you though. I have a few uniforms I know are safe. I can have them check up on you occasionally if you wish.”
“Nah, I don't want to tip anyone off. I feel I'm still under the radar, but if that changes, I'll let you know,” she assured.
“I'll go ahead and head out and contact you about Kent, probably tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” she said, feeling much lighter than she did an hour ago, though a heavy sense of foreboding draped over both of them.
Things were going to get harder before they got easier.
O o O o O
"Well, someone's happy," Mayson said, taking note of Clark's cheerful grin as he entered the research room.
"I got some good news," he explained, keeping his smile as he perused the files of missing persons, skimming for anything that might catch his attention while memorizing the faces within.
It was something he sometimes did between professional cases. Thanks to his memory and his travels, he could sometimes solve a missing persons case simply by recognizing someone was in fact a missing person. More than once, he had come across a runaway or spotted a kidnap victim, just by going about his business while paying minimal attention to those around him.
"Can you tell me the good news?" she asked curiously.
"An acquaintance who had been in a bad accident is going to make it," he said honestly.
He would never tell anyone the exact circumstances but there was no harm in letting people know he was happy because someone he knew, however distantly, hadn't died.
Of course, the person he was referring to was Luke, trombone player from Metropolis Middle School.
The surgeons got to work as soon as Luke was given over to them, taking his cooled body and lowering its temperature a little further to the tried and true 64.4°F that would allow them to essentially suspend his life long enough for them to go in and repair the internal damage from the accident. Admittedly, it had been touch and go for a while, and the doctors expect a long road of recovery for the young man, but Luke and his family could not be happier. He was alive and would heal.
The paramedics and doctors made it very clear that the only reason he had lived was because of Superman’s unconventional intervention.
“That’s certainly good news. I'm glad they're doing better,” Mayson said, happy to see her friend was pleased by the news while sensing he was not going to reveal anything else. She suspected it was an individual involved in one of his cases. “Well, did you hear what happened earlier this week, with Superman?"
Clark blinked. "Uh, maybe? There's news about him all the time."
"He froze a kid so he'd make it to the hospital! It's absolutely astonishing," Mayson said, waving her right hand about.
"Oh. Yeah, I did hear something about that," Clark admitted.
Mayson shook her head, still trying to wrap her mind around the news story. Freezing a boy to save him from death! Was there anything Superman couldn’t do?
"Are you warming up to the idea that Superman might be as good as the world hopes?" Clark asked cautiously.
"I am still a little, well, nervous, but . . . maybe. What I saw in the photos of him helping with the accident is pretty hard to ignore."
Clark startled in surprise, and for two different reasons.
"Photos? And what is hard to ignore?" Clark asked, privately concerned.
"Someone had a camera at the accident," Mayson said with a shrug. "The pictures they took were on the news. As for what I’m talking about, when I saw Superman, I saw --" She frowned, not sure how to describe it. "I saw, well, a first responder. He had professional concern plastered on his face, but there was this one shot of him, when they loaded that poor kid into the ambulance, where that professional mask dropped."
Clark stilled, not sure what to say.
"I don't know. I guess it just struck me. Since actually meeting him the other day, I guess I'm beginning to look at him differently."
"Oh?" Clark asked, intrigued on more than one level.
"I'm still hesitant to jump on the bandwagon of adoring the . . . man, but I'll admit that I'm cautiously optimistic. I’m not as worried as I was before about how much trust we’re giving him," she said, breaking eye contact as she subtly admitted her first assumption might have been wrong.
Clark slowly nodded. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I have it on good authority that he really does just want to help the best he can.”
Mayson laughed softly. “You know, it does make me feel a little better,” she said, amused as much as serious. “Thanks, Clark.”
“You’re welcome, Mayson.”
Mayson sighed and smiled up at him. “Have you eaten lunch?” she asked.
“No, not yet.”
“Care to join me?”
“Sure,” Clark said, returning her smile as she retrieved her purse.
O o O o O
Nigel St. John, Lex Luthor’s personal assistant, was a former espionage agent of Her Majesty's Secret Service.
It had taken some time, but Clark had been able to reach some of his more obscure and secretive contacts. After days of digging in old documents, he had determined Nigel St. John was not his real name and that he had served in the British military before moving to America and changing his name--after his supposed death as Thomas Rebin.
Clark held out an image of Thomas Rebin taken from a distance. The image of Rebin showed him to be armed and in the process of covertly moving around a building.
“I took that photo. It was what proved he had no business being in the service of Her Majesty,” his contact, Agent Tig, said, frowning as he recalled that night.
“What happened?” Clark asked, unconsciously scanning the parking garage to ensure they remained alone. He had already taken care of the cameras before Tig arrived.
“Thomas set fire to some munitions. The photo proved he was there when he had stated he had been elsewhere during questioning. Unfortunately, before his trial, the transport he had been on to take him to another holding facility crashed. Several burned bodies were recovered, including one believed to be his,” Tig explained.
“So all this time even MI6 thought he was dead?” Clark asked. Before he hadn’t been sure if the secret service had orchestrated his supposed death or not, but from this it was clear Luthor’s assistant was a bit more slippery than he had previously thought.
“Correct. It was before DNA testing could be done, so we only had dental and the standard physical remains comparison to verify identity. You've done a great service in coming to me with this and I will be going to my superiors as soon as I leave here. They will need to act. Which reminds me, how did you know to reach out to me?”
“I was doing a blind search, to try to find out his past. I examined a lot of old photos, guessing he could have been prior military due to how he carried himself, and from his accent I figured Britain would be a good place to start. I found a photo of him with his division in the Royal Navy, and from there it eventually led to you. I’m just glad my gamble bore some fruit,” he said with a shrug.
“I would hate to play any game of luck against you,” Tig said with a bewildered but pleased look.
Clark smiled before growing serious once more. “Sir, the reason I started looking into Rebin wasn’t to investigate him specifically, but his employer: Lex Luthor. I have reason to believe he has been organizing a great deal of questionable things in Metropolis as well as the States and possibly beyond, so I would appreciate. . . .” Clark trailed off, trusting the old agent would understand.
“I will be careful with this information. Because Thomas has chosen to work with Lex Luthor, I expect certain channels will need to be handled delicately. Not to mention other channels, as staging his death would have required the assistance of some well-placed insiders. . . . That man was very elusive twenty years ago, I can only assume he has improved since. Hmm, yes. We will be extremely selective in who we report this to and how we move forward,” he promised.
“Thank you.”
Tig gave him a parting nod before turning and leaving without another word.
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