Injustice
Folc4evernaday
Chapter 19: I See It Now
Present Day…
Lois turned the corner with Clark a few steps behind her as they reached the end of the hallway where they had been using the larger boardroom for Agent Dan Scardino and occasionally the FBI agents he was working with Ingrid. It had been nearly three weeks since she had entered the Daily Planet newsroom with the promise to help find Esma. Almost a week since the hearing with Judge Harper and going toe-to-toe with Jeremy Novak to protect Jon.
The sudden wave of planted stories that kept appearing in the tabloids had come to a halt – almost overnight. They still had a hearing scheduled to present their case for the defamation suit but the painful fatigue that had weighing on both her and Clark over the stories that plagued the publications that covered newsstands and supermarket check-out lines had all but disappeared. In their place were the usual celebrity sightings and obviously edited photos made to be a grab for attention.
“Where’s Ingrid?” Lois asked, setting her things down as she looked across the table that was scattered with several file boxes from the case they were currently building. Behind Dan Scardino was a rolling bulletin board with black and white images of children that had been reported missing over the course of the last seven years with a thumbtack, signifying the year they were reported missing and the location.
“She went to get some air,” Dan Scardino said, looking up from the open file in front of him. “Jack went with her down to the deli to pick up some lunch.”
Lois let out an uneasy breath, taking her seat across from Agent Scardino, “How’s she doing?”
“As well as can be expected,” Scardino shook his head. “Unfortunately, it’s not as easy as her being able to just answer questions. She was drugged a lot of the time and helping her connect the dots to what happened and also getting her to trust us…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “They really did a number on her.”
“It can’t be easy for her,” Clark commented, pulling the thin manilla file out and handing it to Scardino.
“What’s this?” Scardino asked, reaching over to take a sip from his coffee mug.
“Remember that guy we mentioned that was hanging around the hearing last week?” Lois prompted. She reached over to jab her finger on the grainy photo that was printed out on the 8x10 photo in front of Agent Scardino. “It took Jimmy some time to clean up the image, but this is what we have.”
“You still thinking this guy has something to do with Esma’s kidnapping?” Scardino asked, chewing on his lower lip.
“The way he was talking with Jeremy Novak,” Clark shook his head. “This guy’s involved in this up to his neck. We know the planted stories are the work of the guys behind Esma’s kidnapping. This guy showing up to the court hearing only proves that.”
“Or maybe he’s just another of Novak’s ponzies?” Scardino suggested with a raised brow. “Look, it’s suspicious, I’ll admit that.”
“But?” Lois pressed, crossing her arms over her chest.
“But we’ve got leads all over the place. What makes you think this guy is worth the already thin resources we have on this case?” Dan Scardino pushed a thick file toward Lois.
“What’s this?” Lois asked, flipping the file folder open.
“Surveillance on the Fifth Mission. Not a peep since we’ve put a detail on the place. We’ve either been made or there’s nothing to tell.” Scardino answered with a shrug.
“Well, we still don’t even know how these kids are being kidnapped without alerting Superman,” Clark added with a shrug. “What makes you think putting an undercover patrol unit is going to do any better?”
“Look, we’ve got a whole lot of theories but not a lot of direction.” Scardino pointed to the man’s photo again. “I don’t even have a name to enter into the database.”
“You were the one that didn’t want to bring the sisters in for questioning,” Lois pointed out, tapping her hand against the tabletop. She let out a heavy sigh, “You may not be willing to look into this guy, but we are.”
“Suit yourself,” Scardino shrugged his shoulders. “But you’re not going to get very far without a name.”
Lois rolled her eyes, waving him off. “Well, if I backed down every time someone told me not to I’d still be handing out mail downstairs.” She pointed to the file folder in front of her. “Has anyone even tried to talk to the people running this place?”
“With what?” Scardino asked, folding his arms across his chest. “Taking in runaways? Feeding the homeless?”
“If what Ingrid said is true then …”
“Then, if we don’t want to scare these people off, we wait for something more than a scared kid’s word to question them with,” Scardino argued. “I want to get these guys as much as you do, but right now, we don’t have enough to go storming in there and accusing the Fifth Street Mission of anything.”
“So you don’t have anything on the mission. We have no name to go along with this face. What do we have, Agent Scardino?” Clark interrupted with growing aggravation in his tone.
“I’m hoping we can draw out more information from Ingrid,” Scardino responded. “She might be able to point us to the safehouses Omer used.”
“Esma is still out there,” Lois reminded him.
“And we’ll find her.”
“Will you?” Lois pressed, standing to her feet. She shook her head, “I’m going to go get some air.”
“Right behind you,” Clark called after her, shaking his head.
“You show up over at Fifth Street Mission, they’ll panic, and we’ll never get them,” Scardino warned.
Clark shrugged his shoulders, “Maybe or maybe we get some direction from talking with them.” He let out a long breath. “I know these people.”
“No, you don’t,” Scardino warned. “No one does.”
________________________________________
Leo Nunk glanced across the desk he was seated at to the dark blonde haired man staring at him. He swallowed hard, looking around the glass walls around them and back at the man who kept a steady gaze on him.
“So, you’re Jack Davenport, eh? Heard a lot about you.”
“I doubt it,” Davenport retorted with a scowl. “Mr. Nunk I despise everything you stand for and everything you do. Because of your actions, innocent people have been subjected to unnecessary inquiries, and this very department was wasting time and resources that could have been better used to help real victims.”
“I’m sensing a but there…” Nunk said nervously.
“But for whatever reason, my director is convinced you’re valuable to us.” Davenport leaned back in his chair. “This better be good.”
________________________________________
Dan Scardino rolled his eyes as he watched the door close behind the two reporters that he was convinced were about to completely blow his investigation. He let out an aggravated sigh, raking a hand through his hair and reaching for his mug of coffee.
He was just as frustrated as they were. Ingrid was able to reveal some insights into how these guys operated but right now, she didn’t trust them enough to open up completely. After so many years of her holding everything in and going into survival mode, it was like clawing at cement block with a spoon to get her to open up. He could tell she wanted to. It was in her eyes—the pain of what she so desperately wanted to share. She wanted to help them find Esma.
He knew if he pushed her, she’d only close back up. He turned his attention to the transcript of the latest interview with Ingrid. Hopefully, he could find something to help given him some direction.
________________________________________
Clark looked around the open space at the Fifth Street Mission, following Sister Tracy as she showed them around. It was everything he had seen before, but Tracy insisted on showing them around. Something felt different about this visit, though. The normal crowds that were at the mission were non-existent.
His super-hearing picked up on hushed whispers coming from down the corridor where a woman’s voice could be heard in sharp whispers, “Yes, they’re still here…”
Tracy pointed down the corridor for them where a sign read ‘Girls Only’ and explained, “I try to keep the boys and girls separate.”
“Have you had trouble with them staying separate in the past?” Lois asked, following the direction Tracy was pointing with her eyes.
“Well, you know what they say. Boys will be boys. No sense in tempting them, hmm?” Tracy offered a slow smile, but there was something off-putting about the way she looked back at Lois that made Clark wonder if there was something more to the story.
Clark pulled out the photo Jimmy had cleaned up for them from his jacket pocket, “Tracy, have you seen this man here before?”
He watched her eyes slightly widen with recognition and heard her heart rate pick up, then just as quickly, she pasted on a smile and shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”
“Well, that’s too bad.” Clark pasted his own smile on his face and slipped his hand in Lois’ as they neared the kitchen area, careful to look for anything that stood out as they approached the exit to the building.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help to you,” Tracy explained, looking back at them with an apologetic expression. Her eyes shifted to Lois’ midsection and her face tensed as she asked. “How far along?”
Lois patted her abdomen, “Three months.”
Clark watched with apprehension as Tracy’s tone changed to almost a sales pitch, “Well, you know we do a lot more than bring in homeless and runaways. We work with the community to offer free prenatal courses and childbirth classes.”
“Thank you, but we have that covered,” Clark interjected, feeling more and more uncomfortable with the way Tracy kept staring at his wife’s midsection. “We should get going.”
“Of course,” Tracy beamed back at him and gestured to the door. “Do stop by again. I enjoy our visits.”
Lois turned her head suspiciously at him but didn’t say anything as he quickly ushered her out the door. She waited till the doors were closed behind them and asked him, “What was that about?”
“Other than the fact that she’s clearly lying through her teeth or the fact that she was practically salivating over your very noticeable pregnancy?” He asked, placing a protective hand over the bump on her abdomen. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
________________________________________
Dan Scardino’s jaw tightened as his teeth glided against one another with enough pressure to crack the Colosseum. He propped the phone between his ear and shoulder, feeling the heat rush across the back of his neck, spreading into his face as he responded to Bill Henderson with a sharp, “Well, I’ll be sure to pass along the message.”
With that, he slammed the phone down back on the receiver and let out a muttered curse, folding his arms across his chest in aggravation. A raised brow and subtle cough escaped his fellow co-habitants of the room, earing him a questioning gaze from Jack and an equally confused expression from Ingrid.
“You just can’t tell them anything,” Scardino grumbled, shaking his head. “Two minutes after Lane and Kent hightail it out of Fifth Street Mission, and they got a tow truck showing up to help move them along.”
“I’m sure Lois and Clark didn’t tell them about the patrol car,” Jack insisted, shaking his head.
“No, they just aggravated the people running the place to the point that they felt the need to send a message that they know we’re onto them.” Scardino shook his head. “I guess I’ll have to get more creative with the stakeout location.”
“They’re sending you a message,” Ingrid spoke up. “They can spot a police car a mile away. They want you to know they only allow you to see what they want you to.”
Scardino shrugged his shoulders, “Then what do I do? What’s the point of any of this?” He gestured to the room around them.
“It’s about control,” Ingrid responded. “These men. They don’t give it up easily. They control the girls, the children, the drugs…the crime. All of it.”
“Like Intergang,” Jack commented with a scowl.
“What’s Intergang?” Ingrid asked.
“It was a global criminal enterprise that tried to take over Metropolis sometime back,” Dan Scardino explained. “They were shut down by Superman and the feds.”
“Unfortunately, all that did is open the market for these guys,” Jack pointed to the board behind Scardino. He pulled out another photo and handed it to Scardino with a tag. “This one goes back to six years ago.”
Dan stopped feeling his breath catch in his throat when he saw the photo in front of him. “Yvonne?”
“Familiar face?” Jack asked, arching an eyebrow at him.
“Informant when I was investigating a lead out in Qatar,” Scardino shook his head, waving his hand to the photo in front of him. “She escaped the hands of this Omer and some guy named Elias only to end up in another pimp’s grasp.”
He frowned, recalling the painful memories of waking up in Dubai with what felt like a hangover that had lasted a little over a week. He had been scarred from top to bottom with injuries that left him in physical therapy for the better part of a year— fractured bones, and muscle tears and burns that made him scream in agony.
It had been by pure luck that he had found his way to the care of a doctor who had later taken him to the better facilities in Dubai. He spent weeks trying to reach out to Yvonne and then he found it. The footage that was leaked to the U.S. Embassy of a woman beheaded. His captain never could confirm the identity beyond a shadow of a doubt but the tattoo on her left shoulder and confirmed it for him. It was her.
“Anwir?” the name escaped Ingrid’s lips and they both looked over at her in surprise.
“Where did you hear that name?” Scardino asked, narrowing his gaze at her.
“His head was used as a warning,” Ingrid shuddered, shaking her head and cradling her face in her hand. “He used to work with Elias and then left with a few of the girls.”
Scardino nodded in recognition, “Yvonne was one of them. The other girl, Anna, was killed in a shootout with some guy…Temple? No, that’s not right…” He held up his hand, “Just give me a sec, and I’ll remember it.”
Jack frowned, leaning back in his chair. “Church?” he asked.
“Maybe,” Scardino shrugged. “I’d have to see the guy’s face to tell you for sure. There was a photo I had…” He walked over to one of the boxes and began sifting through the paperwork, searching for the black and white still he was searching for.
Jack flipped through a few keys on his laptop and turned the screen around, revealing the very familiar man’s face. “Bill Church Jr. disappeared from sight for three months after an impromptu visit to Qatar nearly three years ago. Just before he took over his father’s criminal enterprise, Intergang.”
Scardino pulled out the photo still from the file in his hand to reveal a matching image, “Looks like we’ve got a match.”
________________________________________
Lois looked around the corner bus stop, standing next to the crosswalk sign and pointing to the street across from her. “Okay, so we’re what? Two blocks away from the Fifth Street Mission? Esma was last seen here.” She stomped her foot on the pavement for emphasis.
She pointed to the lack of cameras around. “Broken.” She pointed to the camera above them next to the streetlight. “Stolen.” She pointed to the open cords where a convenience store’s camera had once been. “Out of order.” She pointed to the ATM machine on the other side of the corner.
“For six months,” Clark reminded her, walking up behind her with a scowl on his face. “How many crimes are committed here without anyone seeing a thing?”
“Bus makes its rounds every thirty minutes,” Lois recalled aloud. “Esma gets off the bus.” She pointed to the crosswalk sign where the button to change the signal was.
“And then disappears,” Clark pointed to the three directions she could have gone. “But where?”
“It was the middle of the day,” Lois murmured, looking around the busy street. “It was the middle of the day, where busy streets would have gotten someone’s attention.” She frowned, looking behind her to where an alleyway was then turned to her left where a drive-thru leading to a laundromat was and over to her right where the storefront behind her continued. “There’s nowhere to go. There’s nowhere to hide.”
“Someone around here had to have seen something,” Clark said, looking around.
“Clark, we’re dealing with people that have Bobby Bigmouth running scared and Henderson closing ranks on us.” Lois reminded him, feeling disheartened as she looked around. “They wouldn’t have left witnesses.”
“Well, let’s just start this over again.” Clark pointed to the alleyway behind them. “We have that photo. Let’s see if anyone recognizes him and go from there.”
“So they can lie to us like Tracy did?” Lois argued with a defeated sigh. “She’s in this up to her neck. I can feel it.”
“Maybe, but she’s not talking, and right now we need a name,” Clark said, placing an arm across her shoulders.
“He doesn’t have a name. He’s a ghost, according to Jimmy.” Lois reminded him.
“Everyone has a name,” Clark whispered, leaning over to place a kiss on her cheek.
________________________________________
Jack Davenport pushed a paper in front of Leo Nunk, pointing to the pad in front of him. “You want to help stop these guys? You do the right thing first.”
“I need guarantees…” Nunk tried to argue.
“I need a massage and a half million a year, but this is not a Christmas special, Charlie Brown.” Davenport leaned back in his chair, staring Nunk down with a scowl. “You will print a retraction on every story you planted at these people’s request.”
“You don’t understand…I can’t do that,” Nunk argued, pushing the pad away from him.
“What don’t I understand?” Davenport asked with a growl. “You want my help getting out from under these guys; you do the right thing.”
“It’s not just the Senators!” Nunk fumed, pointing to the office around him. “These guys are everywhere. They have people on the take everywhere. I do this, and I might as well sign my family’s death warrant.”
“We can stop these guys,” Davenport pointed to the pad in front of him.
“This isn’t a single criminal mastermind running the show.” Nunk pointed to the line of cubicles behind the glass-paned office they were in. “They’re everywhere. You want names. You want dates. You want a retraction. You want a lot of things, Agent Davenport, but I need guarantees before I put my neck on the line.”
Davenport pointed to Nunk’s injured foot. “Seems to me, your bargaining chip is long gone, Mr. Nunk.”
“Aren’t you the least bit curious to find out who is double-dipping on the FBI’s dime?” Nunk asked with a raised eyebrow.
________________________________________
“Excuse me?” Clark waved his hand at a man dressed shabbily standing near the dumpster outside the laundromat. The man squinted back at him with a gruff moan, and Clark took that as a sign he had the man’s attention. “You hang around here a lot?”
“Sometimes,” the man admitted, scrounging up his face suspiciously. “Who wants to know?”
“We’re looking into a kidnapping. A young girl disappeared from this corner six months ago.” Lois explained calmly, looking at him expectantly. “She’s just a kid.”
“What’s it got to do with you?” the man asked suspiciously.
“I’m Clark Kent. This is Lois Lane with the Daily Planet.” Clark explained, introducing them to the stranger. “We work for the Daily Planet, and we just want to help find her and bring her home.”
Lois pulled out a twenty and handed it to him. “You ever see this girl before?” she held out the photo of Esma for him.
He shook his head, “No.”
“What about her?” Lois pulled out another photo, revealing the image of Ingrid.
“Yeah,” he nodded in an almost trance-like smile. “I know her. Real well.”
“How well?” Clark pressed, watching the man’s face relax as he chuckled in response.
“How is Ingrid? I haven’t seen her around much.”
“She’s safe,” Lois answered then pulled out one last photo. “What about this, man?”
The man’s brow furrowed, and Clark pressed, “You know him, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I seen him around.”
“What’s his name?” Lois asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
Clark pointed to the photo, “This man is dangerous, isn’t he?”
“Have you asked Ingrid?” the man asked.
“Not yet,” Lois answered suspiciously.
Clark met Lois’ gaze and they turned to leave. The man seemed to have second thoughts and then called out to them. “Wait! You take me to Ingrid and I’ll tell you everything I know about him.”
Clark shook his head, “We can’t do that.”
The man nodded, backing away with a smile, holding up the twenty they gave him. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
Lois watched the man disappear further into the alleyway and turned to Clark, “I’ll take creepy things I wish I never knew for five hundred.”
Clark scowled, watching the man disappear. “I’ll call Henderson and see if he can have someone come down here and talk to that guy.”
“On what?” Lois asked with a scowl. “A leering gesture. He isn’t going to talk to Henderson, and you know it.” She looked toward the bus stop sadly, shaking her head. “He’s probably one of many that have assaulted her, Clark.” She tapped the photo in his hand. “And I have a feeling this is the man responsible.”
Clark let out a heavy sigh, wrapping his arm around Lois as they walked toward the meter where they had parked the Jeep. “Funny, I thought I’d feel better about getting closer on this investigation.”
“Me too,” Lois frowned, shaking her head. She pointed to the man who was peaking around the fence. “Let’s be sure that guy doesn’t try to follow us out of here. It’s bad enough he knows Ingrid is out of his clutches.”
“Yeah,” Clark nodded in agreement, opening the door to the Jeep for her.
________________________________________
Dan Scardino wore a smug grin as he watched Bill Church Jr. from across the table. He glanced over at the jumpsuit Church had been fitted in and let out a long whistle. “I guess they just don’t make those in Armani, huh, Billy?”
“What do you want?” Church asked, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest in defiance. “I’m here out of curiosity, not your amusement, Agent Scardino.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Dan Scardino leaned across the table and placed a single black and white photo in front of him. “I’m here about her.” He pointed to the woman with the long scar across her face on Bill Church Jr’s arm.
Church chuckled, “This is about a few prostitutes?”
“This one. Right here.” Scardino tapped the photo again, pointing at Yvonne’s face in the photo. He bit down on his lower-lip, feeling the edge of the uncomfortable metal chair digging into his backside as he stared at Church. “You know her, don’t you?”
“I met her once,” Church admitted with a shrug. “What does that have to do with me?”
“And this man?” Scardino tapped at the face of the man standing next to Church. “How do you know him?”
Church’s face fell, and a panic began to set in across his features. His eyes strayed away toward the door, and Scardino knew he had him. Church cleared his throat, pushing himself away from the table, “I can’t help you.”
“How does it feel to help a pedophile get away with murder?” Scardino asked, moving in for the kill.
“What the hell are you blabbering about?” Church barked at him, standing up from his chair.
“I mean, I just assumed you must like little girls what with the company you keep. You get a friends and benefits discount?” Scardino tapped at the photo in front of him and smirked as he announced. “Fourteen. Fifteen.”
“No way,” Church shook his head adamantly. “That’s sick.”
“You’re the one rocking the cradle in the photo, my friend.” Scardino shrugged his shoulders, propping his hands in the air. “Not sure how your cellblock is going to feel knowing they’ve got a pedophile in their ranks.”
“You’re out of your damn mind!” Church snarled back at him.
“Right,” Scardino leaned back in his chair. “I’m sure they’ll be really understanding. I mean prison is full of guys that get their rocks off with little kids, right? What’s the worst that can happen?”
“It wasn’t like that!” Church growled. “I never even touched them!”
“That’s not what this photo looks like,” Scardino tapped on the black and white photo. “You look pretty chummy there.”
“You’re out of your mind, you perv!”
“Maybe but I’m not the one that’s gonna have to sleep with one eye open,” Scardino responded smugly.
Church looked between him and the door and then seemed to debate internally before finally asking, “What do you want to know?”
“Where did you meet Elias?”
________________________________________
Lois leaned over to tuck Jon into bed, pressing her lips to his cheek and giving him a hug a little longer than necessary before pulling away. She flashed him a quick smile and whispered, “Goodnight,” one last time and then turned to close the door behind her.
She made her way to the living room where she found the file boxes she and Clark had brought home earlier. She ran a hand through her still damp hair feeling a chill run down her spine as she recalled the creepy way the homeless man – if he really was homeless – had practically salivated over the photo of Ingrid. She let out a heavy sigh, placing a protective hand across her abdomen.
“We’re going to stop these guys,” she promised softly.
The phone on the side table rang, and she jumped, slightly startled. She reached over to place a hand on her chest, trying to calm her already heightened nerves and then picked up the phone to answer it, “Hello?”
A heavy breathing came on the other end of the line, and she heard a voice crackle through the phone line. “I hear you’ve been looking for me, Ms. Lane.”
“Who is this?” Lois felt her heart pang in her chest as she heard the man chuckle.
“Now, why would I give that away and spoil our fun? You have something that belongs to me.” He hissed at her through the phone line. “I want it back.”
“You’re not coming anywhere near her again, you sick bastard,” Lois growled out.
“Really? Have you learned nothing from your recent court battle, Ms. Lane?”
“Go to hell!”
“Return Ingrid to me, and all of this goes away.” The man chuckled over the phone line. “A woman in your condition can’t exactly fight back if she were to walk down a dark alley…or step off a bus stop in the wrong part of town.”
“Is that a threat?” Lois asked, feeling her breathing grow faster with each second she had this monster on the line.
“Produce what is mine or face the consequences.” The man warned. “Superman has yet to stop me yet…Think about that.”
With a click, he hung up, and Lois slammed the phone down, feeling her heart hammering in her chest. She looked around the room as panic began to overtake her. She looked toward the window, bolting up the stairs to reassure herself that Jon was indeed safe and sound in his bed.
She reached the top of the stairs and raced toward the blue and white trimmed bedroom door. With her heart hammering in her chest and her knuckles white with the tension of clenching her fists as she stormed up the stairs, she let out a labored breath, trying to calm the panic rising inside her. She released the fist in her palm and reached out to open Jon’s bedroom door.
A wave of relief washed over her when she saw Jon’s sleepy face pressed against his pillow. Her lips quivered and she felt a hard lump in her throat tense as she choked back a sob, leaning her head against the frame of Jon’s door. He was safe. He was okay.
Why didn’t that make her feel any better?
Her hands slid up and down her arms, and she took a step back into the hallway, trying to remain as quiet as she could so as not to wake Jon. She reached her hand out to close the door behind her. A labored sigh escaped her throat, and she sank down to the floor, allowing a choked sob to escape past her lips.
“Lois?”
She looked up, squinting back the tears that trickled down her cheeks. Standing over her, still in his cape and spandex from his recent patrol, was Clark just before he sunk down on the floor next to her, reaching his hand out to cup her cheek.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
“A, uh, call came in…they want Ingrid back.” Lois bit her lower lip, shaking her head.
“Who wants Ingrid back?” Clark tried to clarify.
“Whoever kidnapped her in the first place,” Lois whimpered, raising her fist in the air. “He practically admitted to orchestrating everything that happened with CPS. That monster is never going to stop…”
“He’s not going to get away with this,” Clark promised, wrapping a protective arm around her, cradling her against his chest.
“You don’t know that,” Lois whimpered, feeling the despair and fear that had been pushed to the back of her mind overtake her. “We’ve been looking for Esma for months. Look what happened with CPS, the tabloids…Almost getting Lex Luthor released. They’re too powerful.”
“Lois,” Clark whispered, placing his hand against her cheek, resting his forehead against hers. “We will stop them.”
“How?” Lois challenged, resting her hand against his shoulder, pulling away. “We have no name. We have no face. Just a mysterious kidnapper that seems to be ten steps ahead of us and has his sights set on a very scared little girl.” She let out a soft whimper, “What’s to stop them from coming after Jon?”
“I won’t let that happen,” Clark whispered, running his hand down her face, brushing his thumb against her jawline.
“You can’t be everywhere at once,” Lois raised a brow at him.
“Lois, there is not a force on this Earth that would stop me from protecting you and our children.” He placed a hand across her growing abdomen for emphasis. “We will stop them.” He leaned forward, brushing his lips to hers, cradling her in his arms as she relaxed against him.
A slow smile crossed her face as his featherlight kisses grew more intense. A short gasp escaped her throat as they sank onto the carpet and she wrapped her arms around him, moaning her approval as she felt his solid frame press into hers. His hands explored the back of his suit, feeling their way up his shoulder blades until she found the zipper holding the blue spandex in place.
A low moan escaped his lips as he hovered over her, smoothing his lips against hers. A muffled sigh escaped the back of her throat as he inched down her body, murmuring reassurances as his hands ran up and down the curve of her chest, outlining the sensitive flesh with his palms.
She let out a muffled sigh as the unbearable distance between them closed and his body sunk down, pressing her. She slinked her arms across his back, feeling her way over the heavy fabric of his cape as she helped peel the rest of his costume off of him.
His hands moved through her hair, framing the sides of her face as his body pressed into her. “Lois.”
“Clar…” she let out a muffled sigh as he drew her closer, tracing the frame of her face with a single hand as he pulled her closer, deepening their embrace with each caress. “Make love to me.”
________________________________________
Attorney General Vincent Blake bit down on his lower-lip, skimming through the information his FBI director had just brought to him. The evidence before him was damning and circumstantial, but if it was true, then the foundation the country’s freedom was at risk.
He reached up to remove his reading glasses, folding them carefully and placing them on the table next to him. “Director Talley, you do understand what it is you’re saying here, correct? Accusations against the Senate Judiciary Committee are serious and saying that even one member is not only compromised, but a co-conspirator in something as heinous as human-trafficking…This isn’t something to tread into lightly.”
“We have a witness willing to testify to at least two congressmen’s involvement,” Director Talley responded.
“A known convicted felon,” Blake responded with a cocked eyebrow. “You can’t base your entire case against this committee based on the word of a convicted felon.”
“Then assign a task force,” Director Talley pleaded with him. “I know we don’t have a lot right now, but I’m confident we can build the case and prove their involvement.”
“You need to convince me and the Vice President,” Blake instructed with a solemn expression. “Regardless, I’ll authorize the investigation, but don’t let this be a repeat of what happened with Danny Malone.”
“I won’t,” Director Talley promised.
________________________________________
Dan Scardino glared at the Congressman in front of him, feeling his anger simmering beneath the surface. He glanced next to him, where the Deputy Chief was seated with the Attorney General Vincent Blake. The brass in this room alone should have been enough to make him second guess himself, but his heart refused to let him sit idly by while the Congressman tried to weasel his way out of the charges before him.
“You’ve been a naughty boy, Donald,” Blake commented, clucking his tongue against his mouth. “How many trips to the Middle East does a congressman need to make in a year?”
“Those were press tours,” Schumer tried to shrug off the photos pushed in his direction.
“Let me guess, you didn’t inhale,” Scardino asked, pushing a photo of Schumer packing a suitcase of drugs with Omer Demir behind him. The photo was dated nearly five years back.
“I did nothing wrong,” Schumer argued.
“And what about him?” Scardino jabbed his finger on the face of Omer Demir. “Socializing with known human traffickers and drug smugglers? Tell me something, is that supposed to increase your chances of re-election or hurt them?”
“You think you’re so smug,” Schumer chuckled, looking around the room. “Every one of you are living a fantasy. You have no idea how little power you have.”
“Why don’t you educate us then, Donald,” Blake growled back. “I mean, we’re just a bunch of dumb government officials. Please teach us what we don’t know.”
“In your dreams,” Schumer shot back with a cocky laugh. He tilted his head in Scardino’s direction and added, “You’ll never stop them. They were right under your nose, and you still couldn’t find them.”
“I’m really going to enjoy watching them rake you over the coals over this one,” Scardino chuckled. “How many decades does one spend behind bars for treason?”
“Now, you know that’s a stretch, Agent Scardino.” Schumer glared back at him. “You have nothing.”
“We have a cooperating witness and video footage of your illegal practices of influencing your fellow committee members to vote a certain way by blackmail and physical bodily harm.” Attorney General Vincent Blake spoke up, clearing his throat. “What exactly are we missing here?”
“I have information,” Schumer stammered, looking with a pleading expression at the Deputy Chief for help. “Agent Blake’s murder.”
“What about it?” Scardino growled out, slamming his fist on the table.
“No deal. No information,” Schumer argued.
“You cocky piece of crap, I swear to God I’ll rip you limb from limb if you don’t start talking!” Scardino flew across the table only for his Deputy Chief and the Attorney General to both pull him back.
“How long has it been, Agent Scardino? Five? Six years? Still unable to find anyone willing to talk.” Schumer chuckled, leaning back in his chair.
“What do you want?” the Deputy Chief asked.
“Don’t you dare!” Scardino fumed, glaring at Schumer, “We don’t make deals with terrorists.”
“Terrorists?” Schumer chuckled.
Vincent Blake stood up from his chair, reaching across the table and jerking Schumer to him as he hissed out in a slow threatening tone, “You sat on information about a known open case and did nothing. You took money from human traffickers to help make it easier for them to smuggle children, women, and babies in and out of this country. You became a terrorist the moment you turned your back on the thousands of American citizens out there that desperately deserve our protection but can’t get it because of a very illegal law you and your cohorts made sure was put in place so that sweaty degenerates like yourself can get away with raping and murdering children. I can’t wait to hear the sentence come down on you for that.”
“You have nothing on me,” Schumer shot back cockily.
“We’ll be picking up the others shortly.” The Deputy Chief advised, standing up from his chair. “Any information you have regarding the Jenna Blake murder should be handed over to the DEA by the end of business today. Failure to do so will result in charges of obstruction.”
Schumer’s face fell in dismay, “Not without a deal.”
“You’re not getting a deal, Donald. You’ll be lucky if you don’t get a needle in your arm for what you’ve done.” Vincent Blake added with a snort.
“But my wife…” Schumer stammered.
“Oh, he has a wife.” Blake chuckled. “Wouldn’t know it to see the way he and his secretary keep sneaking off…” He tapped his hand on the table. “I wonder if she might know where you keep all your classified documents. Maybe we can have a nice long chat with Mrs. Schumer with lots and lots of video footage and surveillance photos … Cancer patient that survived death only to have her philandering husband betray her. That’s got to motivate someone, right?”
________________________________________
The sun peaked across the pier, and the faint honking from pelicans flying above could be heard. Lois bit her lower lip, glancing across the walkway leading to the small corner of markets in what was referred to as Fish Town by many patrons. The stench alone could drive anyone away. The rough demeanors of many passersby left her feeling more than a little uneasy about the latest location of their investigation.
It had been three days since the phone call from Ingrid’s former captor. Three days of wallowing in fear and self-pity, keeping Jon at home and trying to navigate through everything while clinging onto the pretense that the world around her wasn’t crumbling in. For the most part, she had been able to keep the pretense going. Then each time she had another lead to follow, she froze.
It wasn’t the first time she’d had her life threatened.
It was the first time she’d been threatened since finding out she was pregnant.
After everything she’d been through – struggling to conceive and surviving the court battle with CPS – the thread of losing her family to this invisible perpetrator shook her hard.
But that was what he wanted. He wanted her to trip up. He wanted her to look over her shoulder and question her surroundings – her instincts. She refused to give him that power over her.
“Hey,” Lois bumped his hip, looking toward the pier, Clark was staring off into the distance at. “We gonna stand here all day, sulking or what?” She inquired, taking his hand in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze.
He offered her a half-smile, wrapping his hand around hers and running his thumb over her wrist as he tugged her closer, “You sure this is a good idea?”
“Louie said this guy knows the locals pretty well,” Lois shrugged her shoulders, glancing over at the cardboard sign that was on display in the window that read ‘Help Wanted.’ Just above the sign was a wheel barrel of what looked to be some kind of liquor with a sign that read ‘Hell’s Kitchen.’ She leaned her head on his shoulder, “Come on, maybe we can finally get a lead on this guy.”
“The police are looking into this guy,” Clark reminded her. “Is it really the best idea to try and flush this guy out on his own turf?”
“The police have been looking into Esma’s kidnapping for how long?” Lois asked, placing a hand on his chest. “If we back off, then this guy wins. He wants us to just hand Ingrid over like she’s some plaything someone borrowed.”
“Look around,” Clark pointed to the rough crowd going into the bar. “This isn’t Louie’s.” He pointed to a crowd standing by the door with worn-down clothing and jeans that were coming apart at the seams. “This is like one of those places you go in, and you have to protect your kidneys.”
“And just the kind of place that the creeps that are kidnapping these girls would hang out in,” Lois frowned, hanging her head.
“I don’t like this place,” Clark shook his head, placing a hand on her growing abdomen. “You were inconsolable three nights ago, and now we’re storming into the heart of Hell’s Kitchen?”
“I also hated chicken two days ago and now have a craving for chicken wings,” Lois flashed him a half-smile. “Pregnancy is weird.”
“So I’ve been told,” he flashed her an uneasy smile, looping his arm around her, tugging her toward him. “So, what’s the plan?”
She toyed with the knot on his tie with a grin, “Well, I was hoping you could do that hover over the building while you fly over and see if you can spot any…hidden traps, doors, places where they might try to hide something or someone they don’t want found?” She trailed off, leaning in to kiss him.
He let out a heavy breath, glancing toward the fishermen standing outside the door then back at Lois, “And what exactly will you be doing?”
“Talking to Bibbo,” Lois pointed to the man with a balding hairline and beer belly that was leaned over, trying to clean his boat.
“What makes you think that’s Bibbo?” Clark asked.
“Look at the name on the boat,” Lois whispered, pointing to the red etching on the side that spelled out ‘Bibbo’s Place.’
________________________________________
Jack Davenport placed a thick file on the table, careful that each corner aligned perfectly with the one above it, and then claimed the seat at the end of the conference room table. He watched with interest as the room filled with the agents Director Talley had called a meeting with. He did his best to remain eye-level with each one as they walked into the room. Thanks to the information they had secured and verified with Leo Nunk and a few of the informants they had placed in the capitol confirming the identities of the planted agents had been a breeze.
A smile crossed his face as he watched Elena Johnson close the door behind her. Victor Talley sat across from him, nodding to him as he pointed to the basket in the middle of the table. “I’ll need all phones, watches, and any communication devices that require any type of GPS place in the basket.”
There were a few murmurs and grumblings from the seated agents, but they complied, one by one, placing their phones and watches in the center basket. Davenport placed the basket in a small enclosed drawer and pressed a red button on it to kill all radio frequencies that might be emitting from the devices. He then turned to the agents in the room with a smile, “Congratulations. You are the grand prize winners.”
“Winners?” Agent Johnson echoed, looking at him with a bewildered expression.
“An all-expenses-paid trip to federal prison for at least a decade or two.” His eyes narrowed as he looked around the room. “You all disgust me.”
________________________________________
Clark felt his heart falter and his gut churn as he took in the images of the beaten and bruised children hiding in underground floorboards, cramped into hidden wings of the club. He wanted desperately to storm inside and help free every last individual, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Without going through the proper channels, it would only exacerbate the situation. The person responsible for this had to pay.
After a quick change of wardrobe and a moment to collect the range of emotions that were swimming through his mind, he walked down the dock to where Lois was interviewing the contact they’d been sent here to find. It had taken some finagling and a few rounds of pool to get the information out of one of Louie’s regular, but Lois had found a way to get her appeal to his common decency heard.
Though the characters at Louie’s were rough around the edges, none of them were anything like what you saw over here in Hell’s Kitchen. A quick look at the missing girl’s face and a heartfelt plea later, they were given a name.
Bibbo Bibowski.
“I’m not sure how much I can help you, Miss…”
“Look, I’m not trying to jam anyone up. I just want to help find this little girl. I think this man might know something.” Lois pulled out a black and white photo to show him. “Do you know him?” Lois asked the fisherman as Clark approached.
Clark looked around the dock and noting the trio of what could only be described as thugs on the pier, looking in her and Bibbo’s direction. He met the steely gaze of one of the thugs with his own threatening glare, jutting his chin out for emphasis, sending a silent message to the thug. A moment later, the trio moved off, turning away, and he let out a sigh of relief, turning back to the conversation with Bibbo.
Bibbo scratched the top of his head, seeming to think long and hard. “I could be wrong, but that looks a lot like that Tobias character. He comes around every Thursday.”
Lois bit her lower lip, glancing in Clark’s direction for a brief second and then turning back to Bibbo, who was ringing out the rag in his hand. There was a pause as Bibbo nodded in his direction to acknowledge his presence before Lois dove back into the questioning of Bibbo regarding the man named Tobias.
“Do you know his last name?” Lois asked with an uneven tone. Clark placed an arm around her, quietly taking in the hesitancy on the man’s worn features as he finally responded.
“Berg.” Bibbo nodded with a tap on his chin. “Tobias Berg.” He waved his hand in Lois’ direction. “You don’t be messing with that guy, Miss. He’s trouble.”
Lois pulled out her card and handed it to him, “Thanks for your time Bibbo. If you think of anything else, just give me a call.”
He nodded, tucking the card in his overcoat pocket and then turning back to his boat to finish wiping it down. They waved a quick thanks in his direction and then walked back down the docks to the gravel lot they had parked at. Lois winced, waving her hand in front of her as they approached the fish market a few feet away from the lot.
“We need to call the police,” Clark finally said, unsure how else to express the urgency that was weighing on him.
“How bad?” Lois asked, fishing the keys out of her coat pocket.
“Bad,” Clark frowned, shaking his head.
________________________________________
Jack Davenport looked across the front office of Senator Michael Harris, leaning his head back against the leather of the desk chair behind the senator’s desk. A plump woman in her mid-thirties stood over him, scolding him with her hands on her hips as he propped his feet up on the desk and continued flipping through the latest People magazine he’d picked up on his way in.
“Mr. Davenport, Congressman Harris is a very busy man and this…you cannot put your feet on there.”
“Well, have him come in here and tell me that to my face, and maybe I’ll listen, but until then, I’m going to sit there and wait dirtying up the senator’s desk until he shows his face.” He raised his eyebrow at the woman and added. “Like I’ve been doing for the last two hours.”
“He had lunch with his sister. It takes him a while to get back in the city,” Harris’ secretary stammered.
“Or make pitstops to shoot people, right?” Davenport grinned, flipping through the magazine in front of him.. “Oh, no, Brad Pitt and Gwyneth are calling it quits. Mmm, mmm, mmm, that’s a shame. Ever notice how the relationships of the stars never last?”
Harris’ secretary looked as if she was ready to blow a gasket. If this were in one of those Saturday morning cartoons, she’d probably have steam blowing out her ears, and her head would probably explode from the anger boiling inside her.
“You can’t just…”
“Oh, look!” He flipped the magazine over. “A quiz. People’s Sexiest Movie for 1996.” He smiled as he pulled out a pen to begin filling in the missing words of the movie title.
“Congressman Harris isn’t here.”
“But you can get him here, can’t you, Stacy?” Davenport smirked, looking up at her with a Cheshire grin.
________________________________________
Lois set her tape recorder in the middle of the table, looking over at Ingrid, who was nervously fidgeting in her chair. She offered her a weak smile, placing both hands on the table in front of her as she thought through how to approach the subject of Tobias with Ingrid. She and Agent Scardino had argued back and forth over how hard to push Ingrid for information. Even Clark had his doubts, but in the end, they all agreed Ingrid was holding information back. While understandable that she might not be able to trust them, it was imperative they knew everything so they could help her and the other girls that were currently under this Tobias character’s thumb.
Trying to get Ingrid’s trust wouldn’t be easy, but she had to try. The threats she’d received from a few nights ago and the information she received from Bibbo would hopefully help draw out what they needed from Ingrid. Gaining Ingrid’s trust would require her to revisit a time in her life she’d much rather forget, but if it helped them stop Tobias and whoever he might be working with then it would be worth it.
Lois met Ingrid’s gaze and swallowed the hard lump in her throat, trying to formulate her words, “I can’t imagine what this is like for you. Having all these people you don’t know prying into one of the most painful and traumatizing moments of your life can’t be easy.”
“I’m used to it,” Ingrid shrugged her shoulders, looking away.
“Still, it doesn’t make it any easier,” Lois added calmly. Her voice cracked as she squeaked out. “It’s hard for anyone to really understand what you’ve gone through unless they’ve experienced that kind of fear…trauma.”
Ingrid’s eyebrows arched, and one of them rose into a peak as she stared back at Lois with a curious expression. “I was raped and assaulted for four years. I was tortured and made to do things that would leave you screaming at night.” Ingrid shook her head, “Don’t try to compare battle stories. You have no idea what I’ve been through.”
“You say that so calmly, like you’ve been practicing it,” Lois observed, tapping her fingers nervously against the table. “Detached, so you don’t have to associate what happened to you with the horrible acts and just bold enough to scare off anyone that dares to ask questions.”
Ingrid leaned forward with a dismissive bite in her tone as she responded. “You don’t know me.”
“Yet you think you know me,” Lois commented coolly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Tell me something, Ingrid, how exactly does it help us find Esma if you refuse to tell us the names of the men responsible – beyond what we already know?”
“You don’t understand,” Ingrid’s voice trembled as she blinked back tears. “This man … he is dangerous.”
“So are all the criminals Clark, and I have helped put away.” Lois narrowed her gaze at her. “You want to hold onto what happened to you and use it as a shield to keep everyone as far away from you as you can go ahead. But don’t try and diminish what others that have experienced. Assault, attempted murder, attempted rape, and living on the run under an alias for months while trying to tear down the person responsible…” Her eyebrows arched into a point, and she looked at Ingrid expectantly. “Ring any bells?”
“I say his name, and it makes it more real,” Ingrid whispered softly.
Lois pulled out a black and white photo still from her purse and placed it on the table, watching as Ingrid flinched. “This man was in the courthouse waiting for Clark’s and my hearing. A fisherman in Hell’s Kitchen identified him as Tobias Berg.” She folded her hands in front of her. “I have a feeling this is also the man that is responsible for the brutality you were subjected to.” She reached her hand over to cover Ingrid’s. “Am I wrong?”
“No,” Ingrid shook her head, allowing tears to fall down her cheeks. She bit her lower lip, looking back at Lois. “You were on the run…from who?”
Lois sighed, running a hand across her face as she summed up the strength to revisit the second to worst moment of her life. “A very dangerous and manipulative man. He used to practically employ this entire city, but he was also a dangerous criminal. I was too blind to see what he really was until it was too late.”
She felt her voice box echo in her throat with a hard swallow before continuing. “I broke off the relationship and the next thing I knew he had a knife to my throat and was threatening to rape me while he continued to attack me both verbally and physically. I was left to bleed out on my apartment floor and was luckily found later but then was forced to go on the run and completely forget who I was.”
“Did they catch him?” Ingrid asked curiously.
“Yes,” Lois frowned, glancing down at her hands. “He’s still in prison where he’ll be for the rest of his life.”
Ingrid was quiet, glancing over at her with tears in her eyes, “I don’t remember much. I was standing outside at the Fifth Street Mission, where I’d been staying. Another foster home where the dad was a little too handsy or the mom was too drunk… Little did I know I would have been better off there.”
She closed her eyes, clamping them tight as she uttered a name. “His name was Yusif. The man that kidnapped me. I remember taking a cigarette and taking a puff from it and the next thing I know I’m waking up tied to a chair with him standing over me, beating me. It was like that for months. I became numb to it. Then it got worse. The physical assault turned into rape. I was chained to anything and everything and left to survive …They never tried to slit my throat or stab me, but they killed me in other ways.”
________________________________________
Shouts could be heard down the hall as Michael Harris approached his office. He turned the corner and found three security guards standing outside the double doors with his secretary. He let out a frustrated huff as he walked up to them, “Is there a problem here?”
“Oh, well, look who decided to show up,” A man sitting comfortably behind his desk grinned back at him. “The man of the hour.”
Harris stormed toward the unknown man with a fury running through his veins. He slammed his fists on his desk and roared, “I don’t know who you think you are, but you better…”
“Ah, ah, ah, now Michael, is that any way to talk to someone who’s looking to do you a favor?” the man asked, reading from the People magazine in front of him. “Oh, look! A new John Travolta flick.” He smiled back at Harris, shaking his head. “I really enjoy those. What about you?”
“Who the hell are you?” Harris looked at the security team behind him. “Don’t just stand there. Do something!”
“We can’t, Mr. Congressman.” One of the guards explained sheepishly. “He’s cleared by the Attorney General to be here.”
“Vincent Blake is such a champ, isn’t he? Not afraid to pick up the phone and clear the way for a fellow agent.” The man grinned happily from his seat.
“Who are you?” Harris glared at the man feeling a sense of dread wash over him as he pulled out his badge and tossed it on the desk.
“Take a seat, Mr. Harris, we have a lot to talk about,” The man gestured to the security team behind Harris. “Hey guys, why don’t you take five? I’ve got it from here.”
“Of course, Agent Davenport,” the security guard that had responded earlier said to the agent that was currently occupying his desk.
Harris looked at the badge and identification that had been tossed on his desk, reading the name off of the FBI badge, “FBI?”
“Well, federal crimes require a federal agency to investigate, right, Congressman?” Jack Davenport’s steely gaze met his, and Harris swallowed the hard lump that had formed in his throat.
Harris tightened his lips into a thin line as he straightened his tie, squaring his shoulders with a shrug. “Well, what does that have to do with me?”
“Surprisingly, Congressman, it has everything to do with you,” Davenport responded, setting a blue envelope on the desk in front of him.
“What’s this?” Harris asked, reaching for it.
“It’s a warrant to search you, your office, your home, your vehicle, and anything you own for a Colt 45.” Davenport tapped his hands on the desk in front of him. “I’m going to need your keys, Congressman.”
“I, uh, lost them,” Harris lied, biting his lower-lip.
“Then I suppose we’ll have to do this the hard way,” Davenport said, pulling a swiss army knife out of his coat pocket. “Never leave home without it.” He commented, pulling out the switchblade and proceeding to pop it into the lock of his desk drawer. In a matter of seconds, the drawer popped open, and the agent pulled it open to reveal the Colt 45. He used a black pen to lift it up out of the drawer and then looked back at Harris. “Let me guess, you’ve never seen it before, right?”
“What’s this about?” Harris asked, narrowing his gaze.
“Oh, the usual,” Davenport opened a plastic evidence bag and slid the Colt inside with a shake of his head. “Felony Assault with a deadly weapon, conspiracy to commit fraud, blackmail, Treason, and my all-time favorite is of course, the Felony and Breach of Peace.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harris stammered, looking around uncertainly. “Well, thankfully for you, we live in a country that guarantees you innocence until proven guilty, but until then, Mr. Congressman, you’ll be coming with me.” He winked at him and added, “Don’t worry. You won’t be going alone.”
________________________________________
Bill Henderson glanced around the room to where Detective Betty Reed was seated across from him, and DEA Agent Dan Scardino was propped up on the edge of the table. Next to Detective Reed was Lois Lane with her husband and partner, Clark Kent, next to her. All eyes were on him as he stared at the names covering the board behind Lois Lane. The sticky notes were desperately clinging to the surface of the bulletin board.
Child trafficking.
Forced prostitution.
Sex trafficking.
Metropolis was a lot of things. It brought some notorious criminals to the heart of it and had seen some of the darkest parts of humanity. But nothing could have prepared him for what he’d found beneath the floorboards of Hell’s Kitchen. The haunted faces of the children that were dressed with barely anything covering them and the chains that had been wrapped around many of them had been hard to stomach. Drugs and prostitution were a part of everyday life in the depths of Southside, but child trafficking was a new one for him.
Three boats filled with underaged sex-slaves that all had markings burned into their skin. Another twenty to thirty were found in the underground lair of Hell’s Kitchen, where children were forced into unspeakable acts. It seemed like a bad made for TV movie rather than a collar he wished he could forget.
He bit his lower-lip, flashing back to the faces he wanted desperately to forget. A weary hand covered his face, and he looked to Dan Scardino for guidance, “Obviously, we’ve stumbled into something much bigger than the Metropolis P.D. can handle here.”
“It’s not completely DEA jurisdiction either,” Scardino admitted shaking his head. He pointed to the board of names and photos. “Whoever we can match up here, we will, but the FBI needs to take the lead on this one.”
“Who would do something like this?” Henderson fumed, slamming his fist on the table.
“In the arrests you guys made, did anyone by the name of Tobias show up?” Lois asked, tapping her fingertips on the photo in front of her.
“No, your kidnapper is still out there,” Henderson grumbled, shaking his head.
“Many of the guys we picked up seem to have just been there to sample the merchandise unfortunately,” Detective Reed interjected, looking to Dan Scardino with a frown. “I never thought I’d be wishing I was talking about drugs in something like this.”
“You and me both,” Scardino grumbled. He let out a heavy sigh, “Well, we have a name and a face to try and track this guy down. The DEA is interested in him and trying to track down the guy supplying all the drugs to this human trafficking ring he’s involved in.” Scardino pushed a notepad toward Henderson.
“What’s this?” Henderson’s brow furrowed.
“Someone willing to play ball,” Scardino announced proudly.
________________________________________
Lois glanced toward the television set, watching as the twenty-four-hour news circuit continued to play the coverage on the human trafficking ring that had been uncovered in Hell’s Kitchen. She wanted so desperately for that to be the final chapter to this ugly story. To listen to the news anchor, you would think that there were loving homes of families waiting with open arms for these kids to go home too, but the truth of the matter was it wasn’t a made for TV movie special where everyone got a happy ending.
It was a dark and twisted world where these kids were forced to endure the unspeakable evilness that humankind could subject them to and somehow survive. Surviving changed a person. She knew that better than anyone. Though the physical scars had been wiped away and the years had caused the mental and emotional scars to fade, she still carried the weight of what was done to her.
Losing herself – her life – in the blink of an eye and enduring the mental scars she’d been left with had changed her outlook on everything. The normal risks she wouldn’t think twice about taking before made her second guess herself when pursuing a subject on an investigation. She had come close to death. Each time she found herself plummeted into life with a rush of adrenaline, seeking that closeness and affirmation from those she loved.
She so desperately wanted to take out her own revenge and see Lex pay for the torture he’d put her through. It was a petty and fruitless desire but it fueled her pursuit for justice, and it wasn’t until the end when she’d found herself face to face with Lex Luthor, knowing he was finally going to be held responsible for his actions that she realized how little her revenge plot did to make any of it right.
She had Clark. Though they had gone through their ups and downs and nearly torn one another apart when each other’s revelations had come to light they had found one another through everything and come out stronger for it. Each obstacle put in their way had been defeated with the strength they both drew from one another.
Tackling life after something like this …she couldn’t imagine the pain these kids were going through. She so desperately wanted to help them but found herself unable to even begin to know how. Each child had come through their experience with this human trafficking ring and would have to walk the path themselves. How many of them had someone to turn to? How many of them would be forced back into the same place that had abandoned them?
Two familiar arms wrapped around her from behind, and she smiled, turning her head to see her husband leaned over, holding her to him. “Hey,” he whispered in her ear. “You okay?”
“He’s still out there, Clark,” Lois whispered tearfully, placing a protective hand over her growing abdomen.
“I know,” Clark sighed, leaning in to kiss her, “but not for long.”
Lois flashed him a weak smile, “Who would have ever thought to look on a stinky run-down boat for fishing to find over a thousand missing kids?”
“Those are just the ones we know about,” Clark reminded her, leaning over to cup her cheek. “Agent Scardino’s scheduled a meeting with Jack and Victor to go through the case in the morning, and police are still pulling kids out of the hidden compartments in that club…”
“You thinking Superman might need to help make sure they find them all?” Lois guessed, reaching over to cup his cheek.
“It’s already after five,” Clark reasoned. “Why don’t you take Jon home and I’ll meet you there.” He was paused, lowering his gaze, then drawing it back up to meet her eyes. “I can’t let them get away with this. Especially with that Tobias character still out there.”
Lois nodded, stretching her arms over her head. “Okay,” she leaned over to whisper a kiss across his cheek. “I think Jon and I will pick up a movie and some Chinese.”
“Save me some Szechuan Chicken?” He grinned back at her.
“Always.”
________________________________________
TBC....
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