Table of contents is
here .
WARNING: There is some PG-13ish type groping in this chapter. If you are not minded to read this stuff then feel free to scroll between:
and
LAST TIME ON EMII:
They remained frozen in that tableau for several minutes before CJ ventured to speak again. "Tessa... Just one more thing before I go. You said that some of Toni's people went to work for Luthor after she died. Can you tell me their names?"
"Oh," said Tessa. "Jules Johnson and Monica Carnes. Last I heard, though, was that Jules had had enough of Luthor and ran out on him. Took a whole load of his money with him. The rumour was that he went to Bolivia, I think it was, and that there's a contract out on him, so he can't come back. Monica, though... The street says she's still working for him. I think she's some kind of enforcer, or something." CHAPTER NINETEEN
"... so the reason we couldn't find anything about Monique Kahn is because that's not her name in this world. She's actually Monica Carnes, born in New Jersey. Moved to New Troy when she was seventeen. College educated – that's probably where she met Toni Taylor. The dates match, anyway. Currently living in a penthouse apartment in LexHarbour."
It was eight thirty in the morning, and Lois and CJ were back at the Planet, sitting around the table in the borrowed conference room, sipping coffee.
Lois listened to the end of CJ's briefing and grinned. "Not bad, CJ. If you ever fancy a change of career, you might just cut it as a journalist. That's pretty good investigating."
"Thanks. I'm still working on trying to find Johnson. I spent ages on the Internet last night. Do you have any idea how many Jules Johnsons there are out there? I couldn't find any in Bolivia, though, and none of the others seem to match the profile."
Lois shrugged. "Well, these things sometimes take time. I'll put Jack on it, when he finally turns up." She thought back over everything he'd just told her, which was everything Tessa Michigan had told him. "So, we've got a witness to a murder, which we know Luthor committed. Where does that take us, CJ?"
"I'm not sure. It'd be a heck of a lot more convincing if we'd got the murder weapon and if Tessa had come forward at the time. And, even though she's told me what happened, I doubt she'll ever be willing to stand up in a court of law and tell anyone else."
"So, what you're saying is that we know he's capable of murder, but we've still got nothing we can use."
CJ nodded. "'Fraid so." He stood up and began to pace. "It makes me so mad," he said. "I was up most of last night, just thinking about all the lives he's ruined. It's not just all the people he's killed or deliberately set out to ruin. It's also all those people whose lives get touched by his evil. People like Tessa. She's never done anything to him. He probably doesn't even know that she exists, but look at what he's done to her!
"And then there are all the Judith Myersons of this world. And people like Elyse and you and me. Even Tierney..."
"CJ..." said Lois uselessly. "Is there a point to all this, or are you just venting?"
"Yeah, there's a point. He's evil, Lois. And we've got to stop him, and if that means that I have to help you with a spot of breaking and entering, then so be it."
*****
It was a little before half past five when CJ, dressed in one of his business suits, entered the tower block where, on the twentieth floor, the law firm Benton, Miller, Nowak and Associates had its offices. He walked over to the elevator as confidently as he could, given that his heart was beating at over a hundred beats per minute and he was about to commit a crime. He entered, pressed the button for the twenty-second floor and chewed on his lip as he felt the car zoom up the elevator shaft.
Despite the fact that he had prosecuted any number of burglars over the years, CJ had never fully appreciated the amount of planning that went into the act of breaking and entering. A few hours with Lois and a lunch with Rosemary Tierney to make arrangements for this evening's clandestine operation had gone a long way to put CJ right on that score, however.
For one thing, despite his familiarity with the criminal fraternity, CJ had never given much thought to the clothes burglars wore. His mental image didn't stretch much beyond the black band across the eyes, the black and white striped shirt and the swag bag of cartoons. If he had ever thought beyond the stereotype, it was to dress the criminals in jeans and sneakers.
He'd never imagined that burglars might practice their art dressed in Armani.
Then again, maybe burglars didn't. He reminded himself that, as he wasn't planning on stealing anything, raping anyone, causing grievous bodily harm or damage, technically speaking he wasn't about to commit the offence of burglary, "merely" one of trespass. Maybe that made a difference to the dress code.
And maybe he was going insane. That would not only explain the way his thoughts were rambling, but also the fact that he was actually going to go through with this act of madness.
The elevator drew to a halt and made a pinging sound as the doors slid open onto an empty corridor. Although Tierney had told them earlier that the offices on the twenty-second floor were currently vacant, and so the chances of running into anyone up there was minimal, CJ was nonetheless relieved that there was nobody around to witness his arrival.
He stepped out into the corridor and wandered over to a window. The view from so high was fairly spectacular, and he amused himself for a few minutes by watching the workers flood out through the front doors of the building far below.
The plan, which Lois had come up with, was that she and CJ would enter the building early enough not to draw attention to their arrival and wait. Tierney, on the pretext of working late, would stay in the office until the last of her colleagues had gone home for the night, and then give them the all clear. She could, and had agreed to, get them into the offices, but it would be up to them to do the actual snooping around.
CJ still wasn't sure how they were going to do that; Lois hadn't gone into details.
The elevator pinged behind him, making him jump. He spun around, then held his hand to his heart with relief when he realised that the newcomer was only Lois.
She looked the part of an anonymous office drone, he thought, albeit a very pretty one. She was dressed in a sombre grey suit with a white blouse and flat pumps, and she carried a briefcase in her right hand. He knew, however, that the briefcase didn't carry files or paperwork, but latex surgical gloves so they wouldn't leave any fingerprints, a miniature camera and film, and what Lois had unhelpfully described as a few tricks of the trade.
Lois walked over to him, showing none of the signs of nervousness he was feeling, stood on tiptoe and made to kiss his cheek in greeting. He leaned down to allow her better access, then caught her shoulders in his hands and quickly kissed her on her lips.
"All set?" she asked.
"As I'll ever be," he replied. "I suppose."
Something in his voice gave him away. "You nervous?" she asked, clearly expecting the answer to be yes.
He nodded. "Aren't you?"
"Yes. A little, I guess. Actually, it helps to be a little nervous. Makes you careful."
"That sounds like the voice of experience," CJ observed. "You make it sound like you do this a lot."
"And you make it sound like you don't approve."
"I'm not sure that I do."
She patted him on his arm and said, "Don't worry. You'll get over that. I did, after about the tenth or eleventh time."
CJ stared at her then asked, "Um, Lois... Just how many times have you done this sort of thing?"
"I don't know. I've never kept count. But, working on the basis of once every couple of months, which seems like a fair estimate, and that I've been in the business for ten odd years, that would make it about—" She shrugged. "You do the math."
"I'm not sure that I want to," he answered frankly. "You know, in some ways, you're rather frightening."
She smiled. "Why, thank you, CJ!"
"That wasn't a compliment!"
For some reason he didn't understand, his protest just made her smile even more widely.
*****
They were sitting down on the floor in the corner of the corridor, using the walls as backrests as they sat at right angles to one another, when, fifteen minutes later, Lois's cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket, and answered with a laconic, "Lane." Then she listened for a few moments, said, "Okay, talk to you later," then cancelled the call.
Lois turned to CJ and said, "That was Tierney. She says that Benton is working late tonight, and probably won't be leaving for another hour or two."
"So what do we do now?" asked CJ. "Call the whole thing off?"
Lois shook her head. "We've invested too much effort in this operation to give up that easily. No. We wait."
"But she's going to be ages! You said so, yourself. And it's not like there's much to do up here, is there? And the longer we hang around, the more likely we are to get caught, and—"
Lois shifted her weight forward so that she was kneeling. Then she leaned in towards CJ and halted his words with her lips. She didn't succeed in silencing him entirely, though, because she heard a distinct "Mmmmpfff" of almost surprise, followed by a more contented moan.
CJ, it appeared, liked her method of getting him to shut up. That was good, thought Lois, because, not only did it mean that she'd managed to curtail his whinging, but that she was getting to do something she enjoyed, too.
It also answered the question of what they could do for the next few hours, until Tierney called again.
CJ moved, lowering his knees to the floor and splaying his legs so that Lois could shuffle into the space between them. For once, because of their relative positions, she appeared taller than him, almost looming over him.
Almost as if she were the aggressor in the encounter.
CJ didn't seem to mind that, at all. In fact, she found that he was responding more boldly than he ever had before. There was no timidity in his actions, no gentle build up before he gave in to his passion-fuelled enthusiasm. His mouth sucked hungrily at hers, opening immediately, and his tongue flicked out, brushing against her lips, begging for access to the warm depths beyond.
Lois's mouth opened, welcoming him in, and their tongues jousted together playfully, hungrily.
His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to him, moulding her body against his. Then she could feel his fingers snaking underneath her jacket, pulling her blouse out of her skirt... brushing, stroking caressing the bare skin beneath.
She moaned as he began to move his hands upwards, toying with, then passing over, the catch on her bra.
His mouth disengaged from hers and she moaned again, this time at the resultant sense of loss. But that lasted only for a moment, because his lips were tracing a path southwards, fluttering over her chin, around her neck, pausing at the sensitive skin beneath her jaw-bone, near her ear. Then he moved on again, butterfly-kissing her collar bones and then the soft foothills of her breasts.
She gasped as his tongue lapped at her skin, and she lowered her head so that she could kiss the hair on his crown.
Her hands were exploring underneath his jacket, too, apparently having moved there of their own volition. She could feel the hard planes of his muscles rippling beneath her fingertips, his skin hot against hers. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest, and knew that his breathing was growing ragged, but she couldn't hear it over the sound of her own.
Then he shifted beneath her again, and he moved one of his hands. It dragged across her skin, leaving burning trails of sensation behind, making her feel as though she was one raw nerve ending, exploding with the agony of pleasure.
There was a whisper of cold air against her body as he pulled the hand out from beneath her blouse. Then she felt his fingers tangle in her hair. He raised his head just as she lowered hers so that their lips met again.
And then—
Someone behind them cleared his throat, and they both froze.
Laughter, then the gruff voice of a security guard said, "Knew it was only a matter of time before someone came up to this floor for some privacy. All I ask is that you remember to turn off the lights when you're done. Have fun, you guys!" And then he was gone.
Lois slumped against CJ. "Do you think he saw us?"
CJ laughed. "Oh, I think he most
definitely saw us!"
"I meant..."
"No. He won't be able to identify us. All he could have witnessed was a lot of heavy breathing. And all he would have seen is your back, two lots of dark hair, and some tangled limbs."
They sat there for a few minutes, in silence. Then Lois said, "He was very considerate, wasn't he?"
"Broad-minded, too," agreed CJ.
"And... seeing that he told us to have fun—"
"And we were having fun!"
"And we've got some more time to kill—"
"You think we should have some more fun?"
"Uh huh."
CJ said, "You know, I like the way you think, Lois Lane."
They didn't say anything else for a long time, although they weren't entirely silent, either.
*****
Lois's cell-phone rang some time after seven. She answered, listened, then nodded to CJ and said, "We're on."
They stood and spent a few moments tucking various bits of clothing into appropriate places. Then Lois reached out to straighten CJ's tie and to wipe some lipstick off his cheek. CJ, in turn, tried to straighten out some of the tangles in Lois's hair.
Then they took the elevator down to the twentieth floor.
If Rosemary Tierney noticed that their suits were looking a little crumpled and their hair looked as though they'd been out in a strong wind, she was tactful enough not to mention it. All she did was greet them laconically, hustle them as quickly as she could into the offices of Benton, Miller, Nowak and Associates.
Nice, thought CJ, as he glanced around. The deep carpet, leather-topped desks, and oak-panelled walls were a far cry from the chipboard and plastic world of the DA's office. The evening sunlight was shining through the west-facing windows, lending the comfortable decor an ambience that would send any interior decorator into fits of ecstasy.
Tierney gave them a quick guided tour: reception desk; waiting area (complete with coffee machine and water cooler); secretaries' offices; conference room; photocopier room; associates' offices; library; partners' offices and, finally, the senior partners' offices.
CJ shook his head in disbelief. He'd known that there was money in private practice, but this was ridiculous. He turned to Tierney and wryly asked, "Do a lot of pro bono work, do you?"
The irony in the question sailed over her head. "No. Not if we can help it. It's against company policy." She drew to a halt in front of a door, pulled out a master key, slipped it in the lock and turned it. "This is Barbara Benton's office," she said, pushing the door open to allow them to pass. "And if you get caught in here, I don't know you. Okay?"
CJ nodded, glanced across at Lois, and saw that she was doing the same thing.
"Let me know when you're done, and I'll lock up again."
"Thanks," they chorused.
Tierney closed the door behind her, shutting them in.
CJ was tempted to gape. The rest of the practice's premises had been luxurious, but Benton's room was frankly decadent. For one thing, the office was enormous.
Lois whistled. "You could get the whole of my apartment in here," she whispered. Then, almost intimidated, Lois took a few tentative steps towards an elegant bronze sculpture of a cherub holding a bunch of grapes. She reached out, but didn't quite touch. "Do you think that's an original? And the paintings on the walls?"
CJ crouched down to inspect the sculpture carefully. "I'm not art expert," he said, "but, yeah, I think that's the real thing. And that Degas? That looks pretty genuine to me, too."
"I chose the wrong profession," said Lois. "I never knew there was this much money in law."
"There isn't," said CJ grimly. "And, no, you didn't. You're too good at what you do to be in the wrong job."
Lois flashed him a smile. "Thanks," she murmured, accepting the compliment with bashful grace. Then she straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath, and said, "Well, enough of admiring the exhibits, already. Let's get down to work."
She knelt down, opened her brief case, and took out two pairs of latex gloves. She held out one pair to CJ and said, "Here. Put these on."
It took him a couple of minutes to get the gloves on, finding it hard to get his fingers to slip into the requisite holes, and he wondered how surgeons managed to do it so adeptly. Practice, he supposed. Lots of practice. And talcum powder.
He noticed that Lois wasn't having the same problems he had had. She'd presumably had plenty of practice, too, he thought wryly. How many times was it again? Every two months for ten years, wasn't it?
His mind was wondering again.
"Where do we start?" he asked.
Lois swept the room with a glance. "Filing cabinets," she decided firmly.
CJ walked over, pulled one of the handles, and said, "Locked."
"No problem," answered Lois. She reached into her briefcase again, and pulled out a bunch of lock-picks, which she waved in front of his now slack-jawed face.
*****
Lois could feel CJ's disbelieving eyes burning into her back as she tried to jimmy the lock on the filing cabinet. "You know how to pick locks?" he asked.
"You don't?" Lois spoke absently, her words distorted because she was biting on her tongue as an aid to concentration.
"It's not something they teach in Law School," said CJ, "although, if you wanted, I could tell you precisely which laws we're breaking right now. They did teach us
that."
"That's okay, CJ. I don't want to know."
"Then I guess that makes us quits, because
I don't want to know how to pick locks!"
"You say that now, but—" She felt the pins align and her makeshift key twisted. The lock clicked open. "Ah, hah! And we're in!"
"Okay, consider me officially impressed," said CJ. "Appalled, but impressed. Now, let's get this over with as quickly as possible."
Lois pulled out the top drawer, extracted a wodge of folders, and said, "Here, you can make a start on these. I'm going to have a look at her desk."
CJ nodded, took the paperwork from her, and then crouched down on the floor, spreading his loot methodically out in front of him.
"Tell me if you find anything," she said.
"Yes, ma'am," but there was a smile behind his answer that robbed it of all asperity.
Although CJ had the advantage of superspeed to assist him in his research, the power wasn't actually as helpful as he'd thought it would be. For one thing, there were too many loose and oddly-shaped pieces of paper in the files to allow him to flick easily through them. For another, he simply wasn't that adept at using it. Clark had taught him how to use his vision powers, how to control his hearing, how to fly and how to control his superstrength, but somehow they'd managed to overlook the more useful skill of speed reading.
CJ was regretting that now.
Still, he was managing to make rapid progress, at least by human standards. He supposed he had to be grateful for that, at least.
Although most of his attention was focused on his files, he couldn't help but be aware of Lois's movements across the room, where she was rifling purposefully through the drawers of Benton's desk. Eventually, unable to contain his curiosity any longer, he asked, "What are you looking for?"
"Diary," said Lois. "I want to know who she's meeting, when and how often." Then, triumphantly, she exclaimed, "Ah, hah! Found it. And... Oh! This is good!"
"What?" he asked eagerly.
"She hasn't just got her current diary here," Lois crowed. "She also got ones for the last three years, and they've all got a list of telephone numbers and contact names in them. Could be useful..."
CJ had barely turned his attention back to his next folder when Lois said, "Oh, now this is interesting. Benton met with Monica Carnes on the twenty-fifth of April, right around the time that the jurors were being threatened, and then again on the evening before the Allen trial started, on the thirtieth."
"Could be coincidence," said CJ doubtfully.
"But you don't think so."
"No. And neither do you. Hold on a minute." CJ pulled his own slimline diary out of the breast pocket of his jacket, flicked through the pages, then said, "Who was Benton meeting with around January twenty-second and February seventeenth?"
Lois worked her way backwards through Benton's desk diary, then said, "Nothing obvious on the seventeenth, but... lunch on February thirteenth at Giorgio's with – well, well – Monica Carnes and... meeting at four thirty on January twentieth – with Monica Carnes!"
Lois turned the diary over so that it lay face down on the desk, bookmarking her page. Then she went to her briefcase – CJ had now ceased to be amazed at the marvels Lois carried there – and extracted her miniature camera. She pulled it open with her teeth as she returned to the desk, turned the diary over again, and squinted through the view finder. Before she pressed the shutter, however, she asked, "What's so special about those dates?"
"One of the trials Tierney told us had been rigged was about then. People versus Finnigan. January twenty-second was the arraignment. We, the prosecution, objected to bail, but it was set anyway. Tierney said that the judge had been bribed to allow it. Then the trial was due to start on February seventeenth. However, our key witness vanished over the previous weekend. Her body turned up a few days later, washed up on a beach a few miles north of the city."
"And I thought being a lawyer was all about living the life of the urban underbelly one step removed. I never realised that you got to experience it all first hand."
"Now you're teasing me."
"Just a bit," admitted Lois. "But now that we have a possible connection between this law firm and a murder victim..."
"Can you made a note of any other meetings between Benton and Carnes? Then I'll check them against the court diary when we get back to the Planet."
"Will do," said Lois, who began taking pictures.
Five minutes later, CJ looked up from yet another file as she spoke again. "CJ. Benton and Carnes have got a meeting scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. If we can be there... This could be exactly what we need."
TBC
