The electronic headline scrolled past: 'MOB IMPOSTORS MOVE IN ON METROPOLIS.'
The reporters on the floor ignored the scrolling headline, just as they were studiously ignoring the caterer and his assistants as they worked to transform the newsroom into a ballroom.
“Mr. White, I know you have a paper to run, but I have a reputation to uphold,” Jacques was saying, trailing Perry around the room. “Now I just need a decision!”
Perry turned on the little man in exasperation. “Look, Jacques. I don't really care what kind of napkins you put out. So long as the guests aren't wipin' their mouths on their sleeves!”
Clark watched the byplay between Perry and the caterer, smiling a little to himself as he retrieved his bag of chips from the vending machine. He spotted Lois entering the bullpen from research.
“Morning,” she said, beckoning him to follow her over to their desks. “I got some information on Hamilton. He's a real science nerd, spends twenty-four hours a day working in his lab. No family, no friends. Used to work for LexLabs, before they were acquired by Wayne Technologies. Every penny he has goes to fund his experiments.”
“I'm not surprised. DNA modification is very expensive,” Clark told her. She gave him a puzzled look. “I found an article in the library. Hamilton believed he could restructure DNA and short circuit aggressive behavior. He hoped to eliminate all anti-social impulses in man.”
“Did he ever talk about actually bringing criminals back to life?”
“Not directly,” Clark admitted. “But he did say he thought they'd be the best people to experiment on. He even claimed he'd found a way to accelerate the maturation process of the embryos. The sidebar said his theories outraged the scientific community. That's probably why he dropped out of sight. If he is involved with these ‘mobsters,’ I wonder where his funding is coming from. I also wonder if he was involved in the Superman clone thing last year.”
Jimmy ran over to them, waving a sheaf of papers in the air.
“Get a load of this,” he announced. “It just came over on the fax.” He handed the sheets to Lois.
“The cops got a good make on the bank robbers,” Jimmy told them, translating the report. “The fingerprints aren’t good matches with the real John Dillinger, Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow. More like what you get with identical twins. But get this, the other biometrics – skull, ears, palms – all match exactly. They can’t explain it, but it’s their opinion if these three aren’t the real thing, then they’re as close as anybody’s gonna get.”
“What are we dealing with here?” Lois asked. “Some kind of Jurassic Park for humans?”
Clark shrugged. “Let's see if we can get hold of Bobby Bigmouth. If Hamilton has created these –
whatever they are – he's the person who'd know about it.”
“Make sure you tell Perry about the fax,” Lois ordered, leading Clark to the elevators.
0 0 0
Lois parked her jeep in the alley Bobby had designated for their meeting. The alley was in midtown, not all that far from her uncle’s restaurant. She and Clark had stopped at Leonardo’s for Bobby’s payment.
“Mmmm. That ravioli smells great,” Lois commented. They’d skipped lunch again and her stomach was starting to grumble at her. She started to reach for the take out bags Clark was holding on his lap. Clark pulled them out of her reach.
“Lois, it's for Bobby,” he warned.
“He won't know.”
“Oh yeah? Remember what happened that time you picked some of the cheese off his pizza?” he asked. “He got all pouty and wouldn't tell us anything.”
“I still don't know how he knew that cheese was missing. I was very careful not to disturb the pepperoni,” Lois said.
“Maybe he has his own superpowers,” Clark suggested as his beeper went off. He checked the number. “It’s the office. I better call in.”
He got out of the jeep, putting the take out bags on his seat. Lois watched him head to the drugstore on the corner to place his call. Then, she reached out and began to open one of the bags.
“Hey, hey, hey!” a familiar, nasal voice warned. Startled, Lois looked over her shoulder to see Bobby Bigmouth in the backseat of her car. He looked as he always did, rail thin, wearing a safari jacket with multiple pockets.
“Bobby?” Lois asked, trying to regain her composure. “How did you get back there?”
“Trade secret,” he told her with a grin.
“And how dare you eavesdrop on my conversation.”
He kept grinning at her. “I can't help it. I'm a professional snitch.” He reached over and grabbed the bags off the front passenger seat. He sat back and peered inside. “What'd you bring me?”
“A wide variety of culinary delights,” Lois said flatly. “As always.”
Bobby chuckled. “Hey, do I detect an attitude? You know, I don't have to snitch for you. There's a reporter at The Star who'd give me my own chef if I started working for them.”
The passenger door opened and Clark slid in, nodding to Bobby, who had just started chewing on a breadstick.
“That was Jimmy,” Clark told them. “You're not going to believe this. Al Capone paid Perry a visit.”
“What? How many more of these characters are out there?” Lois asked.
“I don't know,” Clark said. “But Capone tried to bribe him. Apparently, the Mayor got the same offer.” He turned to look back at Bobby “Bobby, what do you know about all this? Who are these people?”
“From what I hear, they're an experiment gone bad,” Bobby told them.
“Hamilton really did it,” Clark murmured in awe disbelief.
“Oh, and this regenerated Capone character? Not a big fan of the no smoking laws.”
“What else?” Lois demanded.
“For this food?” Bobby told her. “That's all you get. You didn't even bring me dessert.”
“Lois...” Clark said, shaking his head. He wasn’t altogether fond of the games Lois played with Bobby.
She sighed, then pulled one more takeout bag from beneath her seat, She handed it to Bobby. He opened it and gave her a big grin.
“Tortes!” he said happily, taking a bite of the pastry. He ignored the crumbs that were getting all over the jeep’s backseat.
Lois watched him for a moment. “So talk.”
Bobby wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Okay. There's this guy, runs an illegal gaming club down on Hobs Street – Georgie Hairdo. Capone's thugs have been leaning on him pretty hard.”
“What's Capone's interest in the club?” Clark asked.
“He wants a piece of the action. Like the old days,” Bobby explained. He held up a wilted looking pickle. “Anybody want the pickle?”
Lois took his offer, snatching the pickle out of his hand and taking a bite out of it.
“Look, there's something goin' down tonight at the club. That's all I know,” Bobby told them as he opened the back door. “Except for one more thing. Word is on the street that whoever’s put up the money for Capone’s resurrection, well, he wants Superman out of the way and he’s not real fond of you two. So, let the big guy know, okay. And watch yourselves.”
Bobby closed the back door behind him and disappeared down the alley.
“So what do you think?” Clark asked after a moment.
“I think this pickle's awful,” Lois told him, making a face. “I think we should visit that club, and finding out who’s been financing Hamilton should be pretty high on our list as well.”
“Not to mention warning Superman?” Clark suggested.
“Of course.”
0 0 0
“Jimmy,” Clark called as he and Lois came out of the elevator on to the newsroom floor. Clark noted the changes Jacque the caterer had already accomplished in the newsroom. With the plants and bunting, it looked like the caterer might actually have a chance at pulling it all together in time for Friday’s party.
Jimmy looked up at the sound of his name. “Yeah, CK?”
“See what you can dig up on Professor Hamilton’s finances,” Clark ordered. “Especially large sums.”
Jimmy handed him a file. “Already done. Chief ordered it after that bribe attempt. Basically, after Hamilton left LexLabs, someone started picking up the tab for his research. And get this, the reason he left LexLabs was a difference in opinion on the ethical use of human cloning. He didn’t like where LexLabs was going with their research.”
“But he’s the one cloning mobsters,” Lois pointed out. “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”
Jimmy shrugged. “That’s what I found out.”
“Anything on who’s doing the financing?” Clark asked.
Jimmy shook his head. “Numbered Swiss accounts, Germany, Argentina, you name it. That money’s been washed so much it’s a wonder you can read the numbers.”
“So, we know the money’s coming from someone with international resources,” Lois observed. “Someone who doesn’t want to be associated with Hamilton’s research. Someone who wants Superman out of the way.”
“Superman?” Jimmy asked.
Clark nodded. “That’s what Bobby told us. Somebody who’s also not too fond of a certain pair of Daily Planet reporters.”
“Uh, CK, the list of people who aren’t fond of you and Lois is almost as long at the list of people who aren’t fond of Superman,” Jimmy pointed out. “In fact, it’s pretty much the same list.”
“But how many of them have the resources to fund Hamilton?” Lois asked.
“Not many,” Jimmy admitted. “If it wasn’t that Lex Luthor’s dead, I’d say it smelled of something he’d be behind.”
“But a lot of his top level people haven’t been picked up,” Lois reminded him. “Nigel St. John, for one.”
“You don’t think he’s still in Metropolis, do you?” Jimmy asked.
“I don’t know if he is or not, but we all know a lot of people still don’t believe how evil Luthor was and blame Superman for not saving him when he jumped,” Lois reminded him. “I know St. John can’t have been real happy when Luthor took his dive.” She looked over at Clark. “We’d better get ready if we’re going to check out that club tonight.”
“Club?” Jimmy asked, his curiosity piqued.
“Georgie Hairdo’s club over on Hobs Street,” Clark explained. “Seems Capone is interested in getting a piece of that action.”
“Hey guys, be careful,” Jimmy warned. “Capone and his gang used to play for keeps.”
“Aren’t we always careful?” Lois asked. Jimmy and Clark just stared at her. “Well, Clark’s careful enough for both of us,” she amended. “We’ll be fine. A quick look around, ask Georgie a few questions, leave. No brainer.”
“In the meantime, Jimmy,” Clark said, watching Lois head for the elevator. “See if there’s anything out there explaining how Hamilton’s clones can have the memories and personalities of the originals? Is it some sort of programming, or is there something else going on?”
“I’ll see what I can find,” Jimmy promised with a shrug. “I wasn’t planning on going home tonight anyway.”
Clark grinned at him. “Thanks, Jimmy,” he said, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. Lois was standing at the elevators, tapping her foot as she waited for him. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”
0 0 0
Georgie Hairdo’s place was in a non-descript building on Hobs Street. The windows were barred and painted over. The neighboring buildings also sported barred windows and signs indicated their use – warehousing mostly. There was a plumbing supply, a couple of import-export businesses, a seafood distributor.
Lois had checked out one of the Daily Planet sedans and now she and Clark sat in the front seat watching as limousines stopped in front of the unmarked building. Couples in expensive clothes got out and went to the door. After a moment, they were allowed in.
“Pretty classy crowd for an illegal gaming club,” Lois commented. Another limousine, another couple dropped off at Georgie Hairdo’s.
“Wasn't that Congressman Haines and his wife?” Clark observed.
“Nice to know how our taxes are being spent.” Lois sounded disgusted.
Clark watched as Haines approached the unmarked door. The old-fashioned spy hole opened and Clark listened in on the exchange.
“The fat lady sings,” he heard Haines say. The door opened and Haines and his wife walked into the club.
“Show time,” Lois murmured, opening the passenger side door. She climbed out of the car and waited for Clark to join her.
“Did I remember to tell you how hot you look tonight?” Clark asked. He grinned at her. The red dress she had chosen accentuated her figure and contrasted nicely with her dark hair. The skirt was short enough to show off a lot of leg.
She grinned back at him. “You clean up pretty good yourself, farmboy,” she told him. “I like the tie.” He was wearing the simplest, most conservative tie he owned along with a new tailored jacket.
They crossed the street.
“You think they'll let us just walk in?” Clark asked.
Lois snorted. “Give me some credit, Clark. I'm smart enough to get around some stupid bouncer.”
She knocked on the metal clad door. The little spy hole door slid open and a pair of disinterested eyes peered out at them.
“Yeah?”
“Hi. Um,” Lois began. “We have a reservation.”
“We don't take reservations,” a disinterested voice said. “What's the password?”
“Joe sent me?”
The man on the other side of the door shook his head.
“The eagle has landed?” Lois tried again.
The man just shook his head again.
“Swordfish?” There was a touch of desperation in her voice.
“Swordfish?” Clark repeated in disbelief.
The man on the other side of the door chuckled. “I saw that Marx Brother's movie too, lady,” he said. “Nice try.” He started to close the little door.
“She was just kidding,” Clark announced. “The fat lady sings.”
The door opened for them. Lois stared at Clark in amazement before she stepped inside the club. Clark shrugged as he followed her through.
“I saw it in an old Untouchables episode,” Clark explained softly. Lois just shook her head. Clark was just so weird sometimes.
