Lois waited until Henderson was gone and Perry was back at his desk before going to Clark’s desk and taking the note pad he’d used the day before to take down the address where he was to meet his contact.
She grabbed a pencil and rubbed the graphite over the indentations on the paper. Luckily, Clark had a firm, clear hand. The time and address came though clearly. She checked her watch. She had half-an-hour to make it to the corner of Martin and Westover to meet Clark’s contact.
She opened the door to Perry’s office and stuck her head in. “Perry, I’m heading out to check on a source.”
“Lois, you be careful now,” Perry yelled. “You know Clark is still missing.”
“I’ll be careful, Perry, I promise.”
* * *
Lois waited on the corner and finally, Joe Petrosian, AKA Joe the Nose, showed up. He was a tall, gawky man with a liking for baggy, mismatched clothes. “Where’s Kent? I was supposed to be meeting Kent.”
“Well, he’s not here, Joe,” Lois pointed out. “And I am, so give. What were you going to tell him?”
Joe licked his lips in nervousness, eyes darting about. “Um, I had word that somebody from that Bureau 39 wanted to have a talk with Clarkie boy about Superman.”
“We were told that bunch was disbanded,” Lois told the snitch. “Were we told wrong?”
Joe shrugged. “I was supposed to set up a meeting. I’m supposed to tell Clarkie boy to meet my contact here, this time tomorrow. He needs to be alone, and no funny stuff. These guys are a little squirrelly. Now, make sure you tell him. I promised them he’d be here.”
“I’ll let him know as soon as I see him,” Lois promised. But if he doesn’t show up, I can’t tell him.
* * *
“Come in,” Henderson responded to the knock on his office door. He looked up as the door opened and two smartly dressed older men walked in, closing the door behind them.
“Inspector Henderson?” the man with white hair asked. “You made a call to my office concerning Superman.” He was average height with finely chiseled features and bright blue eyes.
“I made a call to someone,” Henderson said. “And you are?”
The man smiled and shrugged. “I’m General Straker and this is Colonel Freeman. We’re part of a group whose mission it is to keep track of, how should I put it, non-terrestrials on Earth.” The white haired man pulled out his identification and showed it to the police officer: General Edward Straker, USAF. The second man proffered his identification as well: Colonel Alec Freeman.
“Non-terrestrials as in Superman?” Henderson asked.
“Superman is one we try to keep a ‘fatherly’ eye on,” Straker admitted. Freeman chuckled.
“Like Bureau 39 was doing?”
Straker sighed. “What do you know about them?”
“They’re alleged to have been collecting evidence of non-humans on Earth. Their methods were questionable at best,” Henderson said. “Their leader was shot and killed by a local sheriff when he took hostages and tried to kill a Daily Planet reporter.”
Straker gave Henderson a grim smile. “For a covert operation, an awful lot of people know about them.” He paused a moment, considering his next statement. “Bureau 39 was an offshoot of Project Blue Book. Their mandate was to identify and collect evidence concerning possible extra-terrestrial threats against the planet.”
“I thought Blue Book proved there were no threats,” Henderson said.
“The Blue Book conclusion was that the U.F.O.s being studied presented no danger to the U.S.,” Straker said. “That wasn’t strictly true and a task force was put together to deal with the problem. Trask’s group had a specific function and they overstepped their bounds. When attempts were made to rein them in, they went rogue.”
“And your people are better?” Henderson wondered aloud.
“I like to think so, yes,” Straker admitted. “Our organization was the key agency in trying to disband Trask’s group. They were never authorized to take action against alleged threats, only collect evidence, which, as it turns out, they failed to turn over to the proper authorities.”
“And your interest in Superman?” Henderson asked. As interesting as the history of Trask and Bureau 39 was, he had a more immediate concern about one particular alien.
“His birth name is Kal-El,” Freeman said. He had a touch of an Australian accent. “If he’s fallen into the hands of Russell Myerson, Trask’s second in command, he could very well be dead already.”
“I thought he was invulnerable to anything on Earth,” Henderson commented.
“Anything native to Earth, yes,” Straker nodded. “But certain individuals have discovered a specific vulnerability and have attempted to use it against him. We have reason to believe Myerson is among them.”
“So, what do you want of me?” Henderson asked. “I’m just a cop.”
“You misunderstand, Inspector,” Straker said. “We’re offering our assistance in finding and freeing him, if necessary. As an officer of the law, there are certain things you cannot do. We, on the other hand . . .” Straker let his voice fade meaningfully. “Besides, he’s a good kid, even if he doesn’t always act as bright as his IQ would indicate. I would hate for anything to happen to him. And I definitely don’t want to have to explain it to his parents.”
