Table of contents is here .

LAST TIME ON EMII:

"Luthor told me to get rid of the gun. Only I didn't. I took it and hid it. That was my insurance against Luthor coming after me. And then I went straight to Peter. I didn't tell him why I'd left Luthor in a hurry, just that I couldn't stand to stay there any longer."

"We moved out here," Saxon finished. "And the rest, as they say, is history."

"And this gun?" asked CJ. Lois could hear the carefully reined in hope in the question. She felt it, too.

Lois glanced back in the rear view mirror and saw Katherine nodding. "I told you it would be worth your while," she said. "Ballistics can match the gun to the bullet that killed Taylor, and Luthor's fingerprints are all over it."

NOW READ ON...


CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX


*****************
Saturday 10 May, 1997
*****************

At Katherine and Saxon's insistence, Lois dropped them off outside Henderson's precinct. Lois would have liked to deliver them in person, but they insisted that they could track the detective down on their own. They agreed, however, to mention that Lois had pointed them in his direction. She supposed that she could live with that, just so long as Henderson realised that he was in her and CJ's debt.

She and CJ then went back to her place, where she proceeded to work late into the night, putting together two stories based on the material Saxon had furnished them with. CJ stayed with her throughout, providing her upon demand with coffee, research assistance and advice. To begin with, he offered the latter only hesitantly, pointing out that journalism was her area of expertise, not his. However, as the night wore on, they both realised something: Lois understood what readers wanted, content-wise, but CJ manipulated words with an elegance that she sometimes lacked. She supposed it had something to do with all the opening and closing speeches he had to make in court that were designed to beguile jurors into seeing his point of view.

Whatever the reason, one thing was clear. His skills complemented hers and, around midnight, for the first time in her career, she seriously considered what it would be like to have a writing partner. She quickly dismissed the thought as unproductive, however, because the only professional partner she would have wanted was CJ, and he wasn't available, at least not on a full-time basis. It was enough, she decided, that they were becoming partners in all other senses of the word. If she could borrow his expertise from time to time... Well, that was just an added bonus.

They went to bed around two, making love tenderly and joyfully before falling asleep in each other's arms. They were still cuddling together when the alarm woke them at seven, evidently having found as much pleasure in being together in their sleep as they did when they were awake.

*****

CJ could hear the muffled sounds of Perry's anger as soon as he and Lois stepped off the elevator. The rumble of noise sorted itself out into words when Lois pushed the door to his office open. CJ noticed that, today, she didn't even bother going through the motions of knocking, preferring instead to walk in on the editor. CJ thought this was somewhat ironic given her habit of chastising her more junior colleagues when they did the same thing to her.

"... If you don't get your butt in here pronto, it'll be your job!" Perry White slammed down the telephone and growled to himself, "I swear that man'll be the death of me!"

"Who, Perry?" asked Lois.

Perry turned to look balefully at the couple. "Rodriguez. He's called in sick. Again. I swear, I've had enough of it. He's had enough warnings. Either he gets in here and pulls his weight or..." He made a slicing motion across his throat with his right hand.

"Uh, Perry?"

"Yeah?"

"Rodriguez lives out in Arcadia, doesn't he?"

"Uh, huh."

"Then... You might want to read this before you fire him." She held out a printed version of one of her two articles. "I know we've all been ragging him, thinking that he's been shirking, but..."

"But?"

"CJ and I want to see Dr Saxon again yesterday, and from what he was telling us, Love Canal had nothing on Arcadia."

Perry's face creased into a frown. "Let me see that."

He took the paper out of Lois's hand and began to read. "Toxic dumping... Acreage contaminated... Symptoms: headache, migraines, vomiting, rashes... No official medical diagnosis... Seepage of contaminant..."

At the end of the article, he looked up and said, "This is terrific, Lois."

"Yeah," muttered CJ, for her ears alone. "Gross, but terrific."

"And that's not all," said Lois smugly. "Wait'll you see what LexPower's plant is doing to the bay!" She held out the other story.

"In a minute, honey. First I gotta call Rodriguez back. See if I can't persuade him to move his family into a motel downtown."

Lois and CJ sat down on the small plaid sofa Perry kept in his office and waited patiently while Perry made his call. It was incredible, CJ thought, how the editor could shift from irascible boss to fatherly concern in the space of a minute. If he hadn't heard it himself, CJ would have found it impossible to believe that Perry had been threatening to fire Rodriguez just minutes earlier.

When Perry had finished the call, he turned his full attention in their direction. "Well, kids," he said. "You just made my day. This is dynamite."

Lois grinned at the praise and CJ realised something for the first time. Although she was a star reporter and although she wore an aura of extreme confidence, she needed reassurance – validation, even. It made him wonder what other insecurities she had beneath her brash exterior. It also helped to explain to him why she, along with her other worldly counterpart, put so much store in the winning of awards.

"Now," Perry continued, "let me make yours. Jack left this for you last night." He rummaged around on his desk, finally coming up with a sheaf of papers. To CJ's surprise, and Lois's obvious disapproval, Perry gave them to him, along with an explanation for his choice. "Jack said it was your idea, Kent, so I think you deserve to see the evidence first."

Feeling bemused, CJ flicked through the pile. His eyes widened and his grin broadened to match the one that Lois had worn moments before.

"What is it?" she demanded.

"'Lucky' Luciano had nothing on Lex Luthor. I think we've got him."

*****

After they'd finished up at the Planet, CJ insisted on going back to his place, saying that he needed a shower and a change of clothes.

For the first time since they'd got together, they didn't rely on take-out or restaurants. Instead, CJ cooked lunch for them both, demonstrating, if not flair, precisely, then at least a general level of kitchen competence. To Lois, who had been known to have difficulties boiling water, he looked like an expert and she said as much. CJ found himself blushing at the unwarranted compliment.

They were in the process of washing up and discussing the merits of spending the afternoon dozing on the couch when a knock on the door put paid to that idea.

Without his supersenses, CJ had to wait until he saw who his guest was before he could identify him or her. Nonetheless, he ran through a remarkably short list of possibilities as he went over to open the door. Lois: no, she was already there. Perry: unlikely. Jack: ditto. Jimmy: even more so. Mayson: a possibility... Did he really have such a small social circle? he asked himself as he reached up to release the lock.

However, his visitor was no-one that CJ could have predicted.

"Inspector Henderson!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Actually, I was looking for Lane, as well as you. The people at the Planet seemed to think she might be with you."

"Yeah, I'm here," Lois called out from the living area. "Come on in, Henderson."

CJ saw Henderson's eyebrows climb; he could feel his own doing something similar. It wasn't that he minded Lois inviting people into his home, exactly. In fact, he liked the idea that she felt comfortable enough to do so. It was just that it felt... odd.

Henderson looked to CJ for confirmation. In reply, CJ stepped back, pulling the door open wide, to let him pass.

CJ followed Henderson down the stops and gestured for him to take a seat. CJ then offered Henderson some tea, an offer that the policeman politely declined. CJ sat down next to Lois. "So, what can we do for you today, Inspector?" he asked.

"Ask rather what I can do for you." Henderson's eyes flicked towards Lois, and CJ got the idea that, whatever it was that Henderson was here for was more likely to appeal to her than to him. "First of all, I want to thank you both for that Cox woman. I really owe you for that."

"Ah," said Lois, waving his gratitude away with an insincere, "it was nothing."

Henderson snorted quietly with disbelief, and CJ could see the precise moment when he decided to call her bluff. "Well," the inspector said, "if you feel that way about it, I guess I don't need to tell you anything about Pagliano after all, which was the second reason I came here." He moved to get up.

"No!" exclaimed Lois. "Okay, so maybe it was something. Maybe it was a really big something. So give, Henderson."

CJ saw Henderson's lips twitch with amusement as he settled back into his seat. "We're going after Luthor tomorrow."

Lois's eyes lit up and she leaned forward. "Tell us more."

"Pagliano is a miserable—" Henderson called him something rude. "However," he continued, "he's so full of righteous indignation that he's being extremely co-operative. He almost begged us to use him as bait. He didn't need any persuading at all."

"So what's the plan?" asked Lois.

"The team has already gone out to his place, and we've supplemented his own security system with some of our own cameras and microphones. We're going out there again early in the morning; it'll give us plenty of time to square away our vehicles and get in position before Luthor shows up."

"I want in," said Lois.

"I rather thought that you would," answered Henderson. "And seeing as how I owe you, I'll let you, on one condition."

"Yes?"

"You do exactly what I say. You keep out of the way. That goes for you, too, Kent, if you want to tag along. You can watch from our operations room, but that's it. This is police work. I don't want anyone taking unnecessary risks." CJ couldn't help noticing the way that Henderson was glaring pointedly at Lois while he said that. "No heroics, got it?"

Lois pouted. "You make it sound like I go out looking for trouble."

"Don't you?" asked Henderson sceptically.

"Of course I don't. Do I look stupid? It's just that trouble has a way of finding me."

"Uh, huh. And does trouble have a similar way of finding you, Kent?"

Up until a few of weeks ago, CJ would probably have said no. However, recent events had done much to disrupt his orderly view of the world. He hedged his bets by saying, "I guess that would all depend on what you mean by trouble."

Henderson harrumphed and said, "Here's the address. I expect to see you there by nine at the latest."


*****************
Sunday 11 May, 1997
*****************

It was eight thirty in the morning when Lois pulled up next to an imposing gate located some fifty miles north of the city limits. She looked through the iron railings at the woods beyond and frowned. "You reckon this is the right place?"

CJ, sitting beside her, said, "I guess it must be. It's not as though we've seen any other signs of civilisation out here, is it?"

"Guess not." Lois nudged the Jeep closer to an intercom, which was set into one of the brick gateposts, wound down the window, and leaned out. She pressed a button and waited until a voice erupted out of the speaker. "Yes? What do you want?" Above them, a CCTV camera moved to point at the car.

"Lois Lane and CJ Kent. Inspector Henderson is expecting us."

There was a pause, which was filled with indecipherable muttering in the background, and then the voice was back. "Very well. Drive on up to the house. Someone will give you directions from there."

The gate, presumably under the control of the man Lois had just spoken to, clanked open. She shifted the gears and eased her way through. Looking back in the rear-view mirror, Lois saw it slide shut behind them, trapping them in.

Lois felt as though they were making no headway through the trees and she couldn't help but wonder how much land Pagliano owned. Finally, after at least five minutes, the Jeep followed a bend in the drive and emerged into sunlight, and Lois and CJ got their first glimpse of Pagliano's house.

Lois's jaw dropped. "I didn't expect anything quite like as this!"

"Me neither," said CJ. "I mean, there's rich, and then there's really rich!" He gestured helplessly at the opulence in front of them.

The last time Lois had seen anything quite as grand as Pagliano's house, she had been flicking through one of those beautiful living magazines that were supposed to be inspirational but which only served to promote a feeling of inadequacy in their readers. Lois had long since come to the conclusion that regular subscribers must derive some kind of masochistic pleasure from looking at pictures of properties they could never afford, decorated with a stylishness they could never hope to emulate, and presented with a level of cleanliness that could never be maintained.

The house – it was more of a mansion, really – topped a hillock of immaculately manicured lawns and commanded a view over an artificial lake. Its white walls gleamed in the sun.

Lois set aside her awe and, remembering why they were there, said sombrely, "And then there is Luthor rich. How many of these do you suppose he has?"

Henderson waved them down on the wide expanse of gravel that served as a parking area for visitors. "We've set up the observation room in the old stable block half a mile down there." He pointed towards a narrow service road that disappeared around the corner of the house. "You can watch from there." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And don't even think about trying to sneak back up here! The whole area is riddled with surveillance cameras; I'll know if you set one foot outside the stables. You do that, and I'll make sure I share your exclusive with every other paper in town."

Given what Lois now knew about the other papers, she thought it was a pretty empty threat, but it niggled nonetheless. Didn't Henderson trust her? "The thought hadn't even crossed my mind," she grumbled.

"Good," said Henderson, taking Lois's words at face value even though Lois was sure that he recognised them for the lie that they were. "Plotnek'll look after you."

"Plotnek?" asked Lois, before managing to place the name. "Oh, yeah. I met him the other day. The camera man."

"That's him. Now, you'd better be on your way. We've still got lots to do up here, and I don't need you two getting in the way. And keep that Jeep out of sight! I don't want anyone recognising your vanity plates either!"

Lois grunted an vague agreement, then said, "Good luck, Henderson. See you later."

As she pulled away, she heard him say, "If I'm lucky." She wondered whether he was being sarcastic or whether his words reflected a genuine concern for what they were about to do.

*****

Once upon a time, juding from the size of the stable block, the owners of the estate must have kept a lot of horses, but those days were gone. The stalls had been removed and the building was now used as a garage. Lois parked the Jeep next to an anonymous Chevy. CJ decided that the latter – along with another half dozen vehicles, all of which looked as though they could do with a trip through a car wash – probably belonged to one or other of the visiting police officers.

As they climbed out of the car, stiff from the ride, someone called out a greeting. "Hey, Lane! Up here when you're ready!"

CJ turned his head, following the sound of the voice. He saw a dark-haired man leaning over the banister of a staircase that led to an upper storey.

"That's Plotnek," said Lois, and she trotted off. CJ followed close on her heels.

Like the stables, the hayloft had also been converted. Despite Henderson's briefing, it took CJ a moment to work out what he was seeing. An array of television screens covered one wall: Pagliano's in-house security system. As if to confirm that hypothesis, he spotted two men dressed in pale grey uniforms. At first glance, they could have passed for police officers, but CJ knew better. No police force in New Troy had uniforms that colour: these men were in Pagliano's employ. For the moment, though, they seemed content to lounge around and let someone else take the strain.

Pagliano's equipment had been augmented by that of Henderson's team. Loose cables and extension leads snaked across the floor, potential hazards for the unwary. "Come in and make yourselves comfortable," said Plotnek. "Here, I'll show you around."

Plotnek quickly introduced them to everyone, including Pagliano's two guards, who regarded them with apathetic disinterest. He then sat them down, and gave them a virtual tour through the parts of the house and grounds that were under surveillance. "Hall," he said, pointing towards a screen showing a marble-tiled area that could have passed for the foyer of a mall opera house. A sweeping staircase curved upwards, and Plotnek pointed to the next screen. "Landing." Then he moved onwards. "Study, library, living room, games room, gym."

From time to time, CJ caught glimpses of people – servants apparently – going about their business. Of Pagliano's wife there was no sign, and CJ wondered whether she had not got up yet, or whether she'd been tactfully sent out of town for the weekend.

Plotnek's tour had now reached the kitchen, and CJ caught sight of a soberly suited man putting together a breakfast tray. There was a cafetiere, a rack of dry toast, fresh fruit salad and a glass of juice.

"He has a butler?" exclaimed Lois. Then more to herself than to anyone else, she added, "What am I saying? Of course he has a butler!"

"Yeah, he does," agreed Plotnek. "He also has several gardeners, a housekeeper, two maids and a chauffeur. Not to imagine his own personal security service." He tilted his head in the general direction of the two guards before turning his full attention back towards the screen. "However, that guy is actually one of our people. So's the maid." He pointed towards another monitor, which was displaying an image of a cavernous dining room. In the middle of it, a woman, dressed in a skimpy uniform that looked as though it had been ordered from one of the less respectable "lingerie" companies, was going through the motions of dusting a sideboard.

"He doesn't make his employees wear stuff like that, does he?" demanded Lois.

"Only the female ones," answered Plotnek dryly.

CJ's eyes lingered on the screen. He couldn't help wondering what Lois would look like dressed in something like that. He imagined her long, shapely legs clad in black fish-net stockings, a half-inch worth of suspenders visible below the hem of a short skirt, a plunging neckline offering a tantalising view of cleavage... He was certain that Lois would look far better than the police woman. However, from her reaction to the costume, CJ guessed that it wouldn't be a good idea to try to find out.

He took a deep and steadying breath and tried to banish his mental images. He could have done with a cold shower, he thought.

"Where's Pagliano?" asked Lois.

Plotnek pointed towards another monitor. The picture showed the millionaire clambering out of a kidney-shaped swimming pool. He was an ugly man, short with a spherical body balanced on a pair of spindly legs, and CJ discovered that looking at him worked just as well as a shower would have done to bring his libido under control. Pagliano had no neck to speak of and the skin was pulled taut across his paunchy belly. He looked like a human lollipop.

Looking at the sinewy muscles on his arms and legs, CJ decided that Pagliano's misshapen body was the result of a quirk of genetics rather than a failure on his part to look after it. It was ironic that he looked far less human than CJ did, himself.

As Pagliano wrapped a towel around where his waist should have been, CJ got a glimpse of his face: a fat-lipped mouth, a crooked nose that looked as though it had been broken several times in the past, beady, resolute eyes, and a gleaming, bald pate.

*****

The novelty of the first half hour of the stakeout quickly wore off and, once CJ had familiarised himself with the layout of the monitors, there was little to do but wait. The day crawled.

As far as CJ could tell, Pagliano, having disappeared to dress and, presumably, to eat his breakfast, was carrying out his normal routine. This seemed to consist of making a few phone calls, and consequently ruining the Sunday morning peace of several business associates, doing some paperwork and haranguing the servants. Yet, CJ could not believe that Pagliano was as sanguine about his situation as he made out; either he was a consummate actor or he was a fool.

CJ turned his attention to the monitors showing the grounds. These displayed images of the drive, the lawns and the trees. Once CJ caught sight of a couple of squirrels cavorting across the grass. Another time he thought he saw a blue jay pass in front of one of the cameras before disappearing into the depths of the wood. Otherwise, the only movement was that of the shortening shadows as the sun climbed towards its southernmost point.

CJ had never realised that stakeouts could be so dull. The only reliefs to the tedium were occasional comments from Plotnek, bathroom breaks and deliveries of coffee and doughnuts, which arrived midmorning, and a platter of sandwiches, which served as lunch.

It was close to two thirty when the sound of a rasping buzzer shattered the observation room's expectant peace. Everyone's attention jolted automatically towards the screen that showed a view of the front gate. Unnecessarily, Plotnek announced, "They're here."

TBC