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LAST TIME ON EMII:

"And what did Mr Wells say?"

"Not a lot, really. Only that I was to save your life, marry you, and found Utopia."

"Oh, is that all!"

"Would you... I mean... Do you mind knowing that?"

"Not as much as I thought I would. The more time I spend with you, the less I care about why."

"Me, too," whispered CJ huskily. Then he was adjusting his hold on Lois so that his arms were wrapped around her waist. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, and they floated together, their bodies touching torso to torso, their lips touching, their tongues exploring...

Lois knew that soon they would have to recommence their campaign against Luthor and the machinery of his evil. But that was for tomorrow. Tonight was theirs.

NOW READ ON...


CHAPTER THIRTEEN


*****************
Sunday 4 May, 1997
*****************

"Do you do this often?" asked CJ. They were standing on the corner of Lincoln and Fifth, next to the entrance to a subway station. There were few other people around, which made sense as the area was dominated by offices. On a weekday the area would have been heaving with suited insurance brokers, bankers and accountants, and the coffee stand, news stand and florist's stall would all have been open for business. On a Sunday, however, the area was almost deserted and the booths were closed up and silent.

There was a scruffy man, a backpack at his feet, leaning nonchalantly against a lamp post on the other side of the street, a homeless man asleep in a doorway three buildings down, and a couple, arms wrapped around each other's waists, was strolling away from them. Beyond that, the only other living things were a couple of pigeons intent on soiling the window ledges of the building behind them.

"Do what often?" asked Lois.

"Hang around on street corners, waiting for interviewees to show up."

"Well, yeah," answered Lois. "Usually they're anonymous sources, though. You know, snitches. Why? Does it bother you?"

"Bother me?" CJ frowned slightly. "I guess not. But I do feel as though I've fallen into a really bad spy novel. I mean, next you'll be telling me that you've got a pink carnation to put in your button hole so that he can recognise you."

"Well, actually..."

"You haven't?!"

"No. I haven't, b—"

"Thank goodness for that!"

"But I do have a copy of 'Silent Spring'." Lois rummaged around inside the satchel she wore slung over her right shoulder and retrieved a battered paperback from within. "And I'm wearing the scarf for him, too." She plucked lightly at the long, thin strip of green chiffon that she had wrapped loosely around her neck.

"You're kidding me. Please tell me that you're kidding me."

Lois shook her head, grinning all the while. She was enjoying his discomfort, he could tell. "Nope."

CJ glanced up and down the street, not quite sure how to react to this unexpected insight into Lois's professional activities. "How will you recognise him?" he asked.

"Maybe I won't," Lois replied. "The only picture I've got of him – or rather of his counterpart – is that old one from Lois and Clark's file, but that assumes it's accurate. He wouldn't give me a way to recognise him; he said that he'd know me and that was enough."

CJ's eyebrows crawled up his forehead. "Sounds a bit paranoid, if you ask me."

Lois shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe. Maybe not. But if we want to talk to him, we have to play by his rules. And his rules are—" She broke off abruptly and nudged CJ in the ribs with her elbow as the man who'd been watching them from across the street stopped leaning against the lamp post, picked up his bag, checked that the cross walk was clear, and strode towards them. "Heads up, CJ. I think we're on. But he looks nothing like..."

This man was dressed faded jeans, plaid shirt and stout boots. A baseball hat – Toronto Blue Jays, CJ noted remotely – was pulled low over his forehead, casting his eyes in shadow. The hat, in concert with long grey hair and a tangled beard, hide his features as effectively as any mask.

The man drew to a halt next them and said, "Ms Lane?"

"Dr Saxon?" she asked.

He inclined his head. It was an understated gesture, but it nonetheless conveyed an affirmative. CJ couldn't see through the shadow, but he imagined that Saxon's eyes would be narrowing as he said, "I thought you'd be coming alone."

"This is Mr Kent. CJ Kent. He's my... partner," explained Lois, improvising rapidly.

It was odd, CJ thought. He and Lois had had plenty of time to discuss how they should explain away his presence, but they hadn't done so. He hadn't even thought about giving himself the title of "partner", or, rather, if he had thought about it, it would have only been in the vague, dreamy way of new love. Work certainly wouldn't have entered into the equation. Had it done so, he certainly would have rejected the idea out of hand. He knew that Lois worked alone. Now though, he realised that the term seemed right on all sorts of levels.

"Partner, huh?" Saxon sounded doubtful. For a moment, CJ wondered whether his presence was going to be enough to scare the other man off. Certainly, there was something nervous and slightly furtive about Saxon's manner.

Either that, or CJ had read too many bad spy novels.

"Yes," said CJ, taking the initiative and stepping forward. He held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you."

After a pause, Saxon slowly took CJ's hand and pumped it once up and down. CJ noticed that Saxon's grip was dry and strong. Callused skin on Saxon's palm and finger tips hinted at hard labour. Whatever Saxon was, he was no desk bound scientist, thought CJ to himself.

"Perhaps we could take this conversation somewhere more comfortable," said Lois. "It's just about lunch time, so..." She let the invitation hang incomplete in the air.

Long seconds passed before Saxon nodded, finally committing himself to a course of action. "I know a place," he said. Then, without waiting to check that they were following him, he turned on his heel and began to walk up the road.

CJ exchanged a glance with Lois, then in mutual accord they took off after him.

*****

"M-m-mmm," whispered Lois into CJ’s ear from her position behind him in the line waiting at Veggie Heaven’s counter. "Buckwheat and bean sprouts, served with a side dish of self-righteous sanctimony. My favourite."

"Lois!" exclaimed CJ. He tried, not quite successfully, to stifle his laugh. Lois realised that he wasn’t quite sure whether he should be amused or appalled by her comment, but amusement was definitely in the ascendance.

Her first impressions of the restaurant had not been positive. It was located in a rundown side street on the edge of the main office district. Unlike some of the neighbouring blocks, the process of gentrification had passed this one by and the exterior of the restaurant was marred by peeling paint, rotten windows and cracked masonry.

Lois had wondered what the interior would be like, and her stomach had clenched with trepidation. She wasn’t in the mood for a tasty lettuce and salmonella sandwich. It had therefore been with no small amount of reluctance that Lois had followed CJ over the threshold.

While the inside was still unprepossessing, she’d had to admit it was better than the outside. True, the plaster on the walls was cracked, the décor dingy, and the wooden tables rickety and dented, but at least everything was spotlessly clean. Lois had looked around, reading the notices on the walls and the menu board, and had quickly realised that, for the regular clientele, vegetarianism wasn’t just a food preference. It was part of a wider life-style choice, and one that was to be pursued with an almost missionary zeal.

It was that realisation that had prompted her sardonic comment.

Still, as uncomfortable as she found the atmosphere, it did have the advantage of putting their somewhat skittish interviewee at his ease, or as close to ease as he seemed capable of getting. Veggie Heaven had been his choice, and he treated both the restaurant and its staff with a telling familiarity. He wasn’t here just for the food; he was here because he was one of them.

It took another twenty minutes of being served, eating and making stilted small talk, before Saxon finally got down to business.

He leaned down and retrieved a stack of paper from his backpack. "Take a look at these," he said, "then tell me what you think."

"These", Lois realised, as she took the proffered pile, were a selection of ten by eight colour photographs. She quickly sifted through them, then wordlessly passed them on to CJ, who did something similar, although, Lois couldn't help noticing that he spend more time on each one than she had done.

"You have a thing for dead fish?" suggested Lois.

Saxon almost smiled at Lois's almost joke. "Not quite," he answered.

CJ glanced up. "They don't look very healthy," he said. "I mean, besides being dead. So what did they die of?"

Saxon's almost smile widened, although there was no humour in the expression. "Being caught by fisherman, mostly," he said. "But they were all suffering from poisoning of one sort or another when they were caught."

"Poisoning?" asked Lois. "What sort of poisoning?"

"I'm getting to that, Ms Lane," said Saxon. "Now take a look at this." He retrieved a second, thinner, stack of paper from the bag, and held it out to her.

Lois did as she was asked, and found herself looking at some type-written sheets, with information laid out as a mixture of text and tables. She frowned slightly as she tried to make sense of what Saxon had given her.

Beneath the heading "State of New Troy: Fish Advisory" was a short introductory paragraph. Quickly, she read: "Given the way in which chemical pollutants (including heavy metals, PCBs, Dioxin and Chlordane) may accumulate in the fatty tissues of a variety of native fish species, the New Troy Department of the Environment and the Department of Health have found it necessary to publish the following advisories.

"Nutritionists agree that fish are a good source of protein, and its inclusion in the human diet is believed to offer a range of cardiovascular benefits. However, these advantages may be offset by the excessive consumption of contaminated supplies..."

Lois glanced at Saxon, who was watching her expectantly. She turned her attention back to the document. Below the text was a table with the title: "1997 New Troy Fish Consumption Advisories for the Hobbs River Catchment and Hobbs Bay". Then there was the table itself, split into four columns of data. The first gave more precise geographical information, dividing the river catchment into smaller geographical units. The second listed specific fish species, or groupings of species. The third gave details of contaminants of concern, and the fourth, and final, column gave details about how regularly it was safe to eat the fish species in question. Lois read along a few lines at random.

"GREEN LION CREEK TRIBUTARY - Channel Catfish - PCBs, Dioxin, Mercury - No more than one 8oz meal per year."

"HOBBS RIVER, FROM GREEN LION CREEK TO CAXTON CANAL - Striped Bass, White Catfish, American Eel - PCBs, Dioxin - No consumption."

"HOBBS RIVER AND ESTUARY - All Finfish - PCBs, Arsenic, Dioxin, Mercury, Chlorinated Pesticides - No consumption."

Lois handed the first page across to CJ. She didn't want to read any more – she'd seen enough to make her feel vaguely nauseous – so she simply flicked through the remaining sheets, paying just enough attention to realise that the advisories ran over several more pages. When she glanced across at CJ, she could see from the expression on his face that his reaction was a fair reflection of her own.

She took a deep breath, then looked across at Saxon, and said, "All right. I admit that you've managed to gross us out, but I'm not sure what we're doing here. I mean, this information is all in the public domain. Sickening though it all is, I don't see what you think we can do for you."

Again, Saxon smiled his humourless smile. "Ever heard of LexChem?" he asked.

"Of course," said Lois and CJ in unison.

"What about their Downriver and Green Lion Creek plants, more specifically?"

This time Lois shook her head, while CJ frowned and, to her surprise, said, "I've heard of Green Lion. It's a plastics factory, isn't it? I don't know any specifics, though."

"Plastics, yes. And, to be frank, I would have been surprised if you had known any more than that, Mr Kent. Employees are sworn to secrecy, and no-one else seems to take much interest in what goes on there, besides me, of course. But the fact remains that those two plants are major polluters. LexChem is dumping PCBs and dioxin into the Hobbs River catchment. It's common knowledge that the chemicals are there – hence the advisories – but nothing is being done about it. In any other state, the EPA would have shut those plants down years ago. Here, nothing."

"So you've come to the Daily Planet," said Lois. "You want us to launch some kind of environmental campaign, is that it? See if we can get something done?"

Saxon nodded.

"Wouldn't you have done better going to one of the environmental agencies?" asked CJ.

"And why did you choose the Daily Planet?" chimed in Lois. "Why not one of the TV companies, or, for that matter, some other newspaper?"

"You think I didn't try?" Saxon snorted derisively. "Of course I did! First I went to the New Troy Pollution Control Board, where I filed an informal complaint. The person I spoke to there said that the information would be passed over to the NTEPA – that's the EPA's New Troy regional office – who would review it and investigate, then get back to me to tell me what they were going to do." He leaned back in his chair, pulled off his cap, which he'd insisted on keeping on throughout lunch, and raked a claw-like hand backwards over his forehead and through his hair.

"And...?" prompted Lois.

Saxon put the baseball cap back on and leaned in again. "And I didn't hear from the NTEPA, so I contacted them directly. I was told..." The anger in his voice was rising. Lois watched as Saxon deliberately stilled himself, closed his eyes for a few seconds and took a deep breath, dampening the excessive emotion into more reasonable levels. Only then did he continue. "The person I spoke to at the agency said that there was no record of the complaint having ever reached them."

"I see. So, do you think it was a genuine oversight, or had someone buried it?" asked Lois.

Saxon shook his head. "I honestly don't know. At the time..." He shrugged. "Now, though, I suspect it was buried. But, as I said, I don't actually know one way or the other."

She nodded. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw CJ do the same.

"Anyway... So I filed another informal complaint. And some time later I did hear back from the NTEPA." There was something almost calculated in the way Saxon paused then, and Lois wondered whether it was to calm himself once again or whether it was for dramatic purposes. Maybe Saxon was just a naturally gifted raconteur. However, it proved to be neither because Saxon used the silence to lean down and root around in his bag again. After a few seconds of ferreting about, he pulled out a letter. He passed it over to Lois, who took it and began to read.

"What does it say?" asked CJ curiously.

"Basically," said Saxon, "it says that the pollution problem wasn't solved, but the NTEPA was unlikely to be able to bring any kind of enforcement action before the New Troy Pollution Control Board within the foreseeable future. In other words, yes, LexChem had undoubtedly been polluting the river and contaminating the groundwater, but they weren't going to do anything about it."

"What?" asked Lois in consternation. CJ glanced up from his reading in time to see her frown and say, "Can they do that? Do nothing, I mean?"

"Apparently, yes," said Saxon.

"It says here," Lois observed, "that if you weren't satisfied with the NTEPA's decision, you could lodge a formal complaint...?"

"Oh, yeah." Saxon sounded bitter. "But you know what that means?" He didn't wait for an answer before he continued. "In an informal complaint, the EPA does all the investigating and brings charges. In a formal complaint, the complainant – that would be me – assumes responsibility for proceeding with the case. In other words, I wouldn't get any help from either the New Troy Pollution Control Board or the NTEPA. I'd have to do all my own investigating – well I've been doing some of that, anyway. But I'd have to do all my own paper work... make a formal presentation at the hearing... What kind of chance would I have against the might of LexCorp? Against Luthor, himself?"

"There are lawyers who specialise in this kind of thing," suggested CJ tentatively.

"Yeah. Lawyers." Saxon sniffed dismissively. "What good do you think they are, really? I couldn't afford to pay, and all the pro bono attorneys I approached said they wouldn't touch the case. In fact, only one – a Constance Hunter – was polite enough to even give me the time of day.

"I was beginning to get desperate by then. I thought, okay, so if I couldn't do anything through official channels, at least I could make people *listen* to what I had to say. I went to LNN first. I mean, they're supposed to have independent control over programme content, right?"

"That's the official line, yes," said Lois placing careful weight on the "official". "Luthor's on record as saying that much."

"Well, it's not true. LNN weren't interested. The Star's not interested, but I hadn't realised when I approached that paper that it was owned by LexCorp."

"Yeah," said Lois. "Preston Carpenter sold it about eighteen months ago."

"So, then I came to you. And, if I might say so, you've been pretty slow in getting back to me, too."

"Yeah, well..." Lois ducked her head, feeling uncomfortable. "I'm afraid that's mostly my fault. I'm sorry, Dr Saxon, but when Perry – that's my editor – suggested that I might like to write an article about fish... Well, it just didn't... grab me. I took the other option and covered the Allen trial."

Saxon scowled at her, probably, Lois thought, condemning her for her prejudices. She was grateful when, with a remarkable degree of tact, CJ smoothed over the uncomfortable moment by saying, "But we're here now. That's the main thing. So tell us what you want us to do."

"I did that already," answered Saxon. "I want to you to take this stuff and write about it. Create as much of a stink as you can. I want Luthor punished for what he's doing. I want him to pay. Can you understand that?"

Lois and CJ both nodded. Oh, yes. They understood perfectly.

"Write the story," repeated Saxon. "Like I said. Write about LexCorp's culture of disregard for the environment."

CJ interjected a cautionary note into the conversation, "Isn't that a bit strong? Two plants is hardly a culture."

"Oh, there's more," said Saxon. "Lots more. For example, I could tell you how LexConstruction recently got permission to build a subdivision on top of one of LexChem's old dump sites. And then there's LexPower..."

"More?" whispered Lois, feeling a little overwhelmed. "LexPower? Dump site?"

When Perry had first suggested the story to her, she'd dismissed it, assuming that Saxon would be a crank. Now, though, she was beginning to see just how wrong she'd been. She was beginning to suspect that this story might turn out to be even bigger than Love Canal. Her stomach twisted at the thought, an odd mixture of repugnance and morbid excitement.

"But," said Saxon, "all that'll have to wait. I want to see what you do with this lot first. If I'm happy you're playing straight with me, I'll think about giving you the rest. It's up to you. Deal?"

Lois's eyes narrowed. Saxon, Lois was beginning to realise, was a shrewd operator. He had hooked her, good and proper, and now he was reeling her in. While she would have preferred to be in control of the situation, in this instance, she was prepared to allow herself to be reeled. It was worth the loss of a little control, she decided, because she could see her one-off expose turning into a series, and that series turning into a Kerth or a Merriweather... or maybe even into a Pulitzer.

She wanted his information. She wanted it all now. But she was realistic enough to know that the world didn't always work the way she wanted it to, and if she played her hand right the payoff would be worth it in the end.

She nodded, held out her hand towards him, and said, "Deal."

*****

"This is great, CJ!" Lois crowed triumphantly. They were back at Lincoln and Fifth, and had just watched Saxon disappear down into the bowels of the subway station. "I know I didn't want to do it, but it's a great story. It's got it all: political intrigue, corruption, some juicy photos of dying wildlife... Pity it's just fish though. Something cute and furry would have been even better, but I guess we can't have everything. And best of all, we must be able to get Luthor on just about every environmental law going."

"Yeah, great," muttered CJ sounding remarkably unenthusiastic. His tone diffused Lois's exciting babbling, calming her down as quickly as it raised her curiosity and concern.

"You don't sound as though it's great," she said. "Why not? I thought this was all good stuff."

"Yeah, it is. It's just not enough!"

"Not enough? Why not?"

"Because environmental law is civil law, not criminal. All the courts can do is get Luthor – or more likely LexCorp – to pay compensation for all his breaches. But Luthor is the third richest—"

"Second, these days," interjected Lois.

"Second richest man on the planet. What are a few million dollar fines – or even multimillion dollar fines – going to mean to a man who's worth billions? It's like pocket money to him. Like I say, it's not enough. I want to see him pay for his crimes. I want to see him in jail, and so far we simply don't have anything that's going to make that happen."

"CJ..." She reached and took his hand in both of hers. She gently stroked his skin, desperately wanting to make him feel better. "I know you want more, and so do I, but we need to be patient and persevere. Isn’t that what you keep telling me? And at least we've now made a start. Let that be enough, just for today."

He smiled, but it was a feeble effort and it didn't reach his eyes. Lois could tell that he was having to force it. "You're absolutely right, of course," he said. "After all, Rome wasn't built in a day."

"No," answered Lois, tightening her grip on his hands and smiling impishly at him. "As I understand it, Rome's still a work in progress. So far it's only taken a few of millennia."

Just as she'd hoped, he laughed abruptly. This time his smile was genuine, and it outshone the it's fake predecessor as the sun outshines the moon. "So long as it doesn't take quite that long to bring Luthor down," he said.

TBC

Author's note:

Sometime around last December I inflicted an earlier version of this section on some folcs on IRC; it got substantially reworked in light of their comments. (For those who were there and who remember it from the first time around, I've split the Saxon stuff into two parts and tried to make the whole thing less textbook like.) If this section works, it is in no small way a tribute to those kind folcs who told me extremely tactfully that aspects of this bit of A-plot wasn't really doing anything for them. Thanks, guys!