Day 3
Lois tossed and turned all night. When she finally climbed out of bed, she felt like she hadn’t slept a wink. Her eyes were puffy, her face splotchy, and makeup wasn’t doing anything to cover it up.
She grabbed a quick cup of coffee at the kiosk outside the entrance to the Planet. Joe the coffee guy looked at her quizzically.
“Haven’t seen Clark for a couple days, is he all right?”
“Oh, he’s fine,” she told him cheerily. “Working on a story. Should be back in a day or so.” I hope.
“Glad to hear it,” Joe told her as he turned to tend another caffeine deprived customer.
Arriving on the newsroom floor, Lois noticed the worried expressions on the faces of her co-workers.
“What’s happened?” Lois asked Jimmy Olsen as he hurried towards Perry’s office.
Jimmy paused. “The FBI’s made it official. Superman is missing and presumed kidnapped. Some kids found his cape and boots in a dumpster by Hobs Bay. The two officers they were looking for, the ones the ATM camera caught putting him in the squad car? They were found dead, not too far from the where the boots were found. Single shots to the back of the head, execution style.”
“Oh dear God,” Lois murmured. “What about Clark? Have they said anything about Clark?”
Jimmy shook his head and sighed. “Henderson told Perry they’re pretty sure whoever grabbed Superman grabbed Clark too, so they’d have some leverage over him. I also overheard him tell Perry that chances are, Superman’s already dead and time’s running out for Clark. The lab reported there was blood on the cape and they’re pretty sure it’s Superman’s blood, as impossible as that sounds.”
Jimmy nodded to the closed office door. “Henderson’s in there with Perry and a couple of government intelligence types. I guess they’re trying to figure out what the Planet can do. Perry’s already authorized a reward for any information leading to Clark’s recovery. So far, no joy.”
“Jimmy, we can’t lose hope,” Lois told him, even though she couldn’t keep the tremor out of her voice. She headed for Perry’s office and walked in without knocking. Henderson and two older men were standing
“Lois, darlin’, don’t you know how to knock?” Perry complained. “I’ve got company here.”
“Perry, I’m meeting one of Clark’s sources in half an hour. The one Joe the Nose was setting up for him.”
“And who is this source?” Perry asked.
“I don’t have a name,” Lois admitted. “I don’t think Clark did either. But, according to Joe, the source had information on Bureau 39.” She didn’t tell him that Joe was scared half to death.
“Lois, this is General Straker and Colonel Freeman,” Perry introduced the older two men. “They’re here helping the MPD to find Clark, and Superman.”
“Jimmy said the FBI was involved.”
“They are, Miss Lane,” Freeman said. “But this situation needs a ‘special’ touch. One that we are uniquely suited to give.”
General Straker nodded. “Miss Lane. Can I assume since you came in here to tell Mister White about your meeting, you’re willing to help us?”
“Why is the military interested in Clark Kent?” she asked.
“Because Jason Trask and his hoodlums were interested in him, Miss Lane,” Straker replied. “And even dead, Trask is a bad enemy to have.”
0 0 0
Between the beatings, the weakness and the pain, Clark had lost all sense of time. He thought they might have resorted to drugs again, but he couldn’t be sure. The heparin-lock sutured into his arm kept intravenous injections from leaving marks.
He knew he was running a fever from the kryptonite exposure, and was now alternating between chills and sweats. The cold dampness of the cell wasn’t helping any.
He heard a key turn in the lock. No, no more, please God, no more.
0 0 0
Despite the warning to come alone, Lois agreed to have Straker’s people put a microphone on her and to follow her at a discrete distance. Under normal circumstances, Lois wouldn’t have even told Perry who she was meeting with, much less where. But these were not normal circumstances. Clark, I’m not stealing your story. I just need to find out what you’ve gotten yourself into.
She parked her jeep in the parking garage adjacent to Dacy’s department store. She was still a few minutes early, so spent a few minutes looking at the summer displays in the large windows. Finally it was time and she crossed the street to the north-east corner of Martin and Westover.
A tall man in dark glasses, a dark suit, and unfashionably narrow black tie was standing beside the newspaper vending machines, reading the Inquisitor. He folded over his paper as Lois approached.
“Were you waiting for Mister Kent?” Lois asked quietly.
The man turned his head to look at her. The glasses made it difficult to read his expression. “And if I was?”
“Mister Kent is home with the flu. I’m his partner, Lois Lane. He sent me in his place.” She held out her hand to be shaken. The man ignored the gesture.
“I have nothing for you, Miss Lane,” the man said, beginning to turn away from her.
“Not even Bureau 39? Wasn’t that what you were meeting Clark about?”
The man stopped and turned back to her. As he turned, she saw the wire and ear-piece to a miniature headset. A muscle in his cheek twitched as he seemed to listen to instructions.
“And what do you know about Bureau 39?” he said after a moment.
“I was there when Trask was shot while trying to kill my partner. I know as much as Clark does about those people.”
Another moment while he listened to distant voices. She wished she could see through the glasses, see his eyes, his expression. Somehow, she knew she wouldn’t like what she’d see.
“Come with me,” he ordered, taking her arm.
“And go where?”
“No questions,” he ordered, pulling her along with him.
0 0 0
“They’re moving,” S’vram announced from his post in the back of the white floral delivery van. He watched a small dot that was superimposed over a map of Metropolis on the monitor screen. Another screen showed an outside view of the street.
“Got an ID on the man?” Paul Foster asked a second technician.
“Tentative,” James Ford answered. “Looks like Lyndon Smith, one of Trask’s personal recruits. Nickname: the Enforcer. If I’m right, she may be in trouble already. He’s a cold-blooded killer. I don’t know how he could have even passed the background check.”
“Trask was doing his own,” Foster told him grimly. “We weren’t involved. And we’re paying the price now for not taking care of him sooner. Our negligence may cost Superman his life.”
0 0 0
The black-suited man pulled her into a nearby coffee shop. He looked around and proceeded past the serving counter, into the back area.
“Hey, you can’t come go back there!” the casher protested.
The man pulled out a badge, showing it momentarily before putting it back in his pocket. The cashier stepped aside and let them through to the kitchen and the backdoor to the alley.
A dark sedan was parked in the alley. The man forced her into the back seat. “Down on the floor,” he ordered.
She opened her mouth to protest. Then she realized that there were two men already seated in the front of the car and one of them held a gun. She went down on the floor and the man who’d brought her here covered her with a blanket.
The car started and she felt the roughness of the pavement as they drove away.
