Part 4
Feb 3, 1996
Lois's POV
I came into work the next morning without any better idea of what to do about Mindy. I didn't have enough evidence to really go after her, I didn't have any solid leads to follow, and a direct confrontation didn't seem wise. The thing to do, then, would be to investigate the other loose ends and see if one of them would lead me in the right direction. If Intergang was still active, then there was a chance they might have something to do with Clark's disappearance.
There was Lex's death to consider. Henderson hadn't had too much information to give me, though he had promised to call me with the autopsy results. Still, it seemed like Intergang might have had something to do with that. He hadn't been nearly as powerful at the time of his death as he had been even a year or two prior, but he could well have been a perceived threat.
Then there was the gang situation. Something was happening there, and that might be linked to Intergang, too. They could well be the source of the guns, and I was wondering about drugs. The ones on the "Cost Cutter" had been prescription, but it seemed that there was something else going on. Officer Sawyer had said she suspected some kind of new drug in the gangs, and Flannegan had been acting strangely. Maybe there was something going around. It was something to consider, anyway.
So, I had a busy day ahead of me, which was just how I liked it. Before I got to work on any of those things, though, I called Jimmy over. I'd had a thought the night before, while I'd been lying awake in bed. If Intergang was active and if they were responsible for Clark's disappearance and if they didn't think anyone knew that they were around and active, then there was a chance that Clark was being held on Intergang-owned property. When Jimmy rushed over to my desk, I explained that to him.
"Makes sense," he said.
"Good. So, if you could take that list you found last night of all the lead-lined rooms in and around town and cross-index it with a list of properties owned by CostMart, then that might narrow things down enough that we could start checking places out."
"I'll see what I can do. CostMart has a lot of subsidiaries, and I might not be able to trace all of them. I'll get what I can, but there's always a chance I'll miss something."
"Well, do your best, Jimmy."
"You got it, Lois."
Since I couldn't do much about Lex's death until Henderson called back, I decided to get started on the gang problem. I called up a contact I'd made during a previous investigation, hoping he might know something that Bobby didn't. "Vinny? Hey, it's Les," I said in as deep a voice as I could manage. I'd met Vinny while I'd been working undercover as Lester Lewis, and he still didn't know that I wasn't "one of the guys."
"Hey. Been a bit. How ya doin'?"
"You know me. Les is more."
"Heh heh, yeah."
"So how're you doin', Vin?"
"I'm good. I'm good."
"That's good. So, look, Vinny, can I ask you a question?"
"Whatcha need?"
"Well, gangs around my place have been heatin' up, ya know? Fights all the time. Gettin' so I can't hardly sleep. They're not just usin' pop guns no more, either. Some of 'em been acting kinda funny, too. Know what I mean? It hasn't made things real comfortable around home. Can't entertain a lady all proper when somethin' like that's goin' on outside the window."
"Yeah. It's a problem."
"Exactly. So, I was wonderin'... You maybe know what's goin' on? Any idea if it'll blow over or what? Or maybe where they're gettin' their stuff?"
"What? You wanna piece of the action?"
"Me? Nah. You know that's not my thing. I just wanna know what's goin' on in my neighborhood, ya know? Be nice if I had someun I could maybe talk to, too. At the least, I'd feel better if I knew what was goin' on."
"Well, I'll tell ya, Les. I dunno if I can really help you here. These gangs, they're not really our thing, ya know? We don't bother with them, they know better than to mess with us."
"Yeah. I get that."
"I heard some things, though..."
"Oh?"
"Not really what you're lookin' for. Actually, maybe I shouldn't tell you..."
"What is it?"
"Well, it won't exactly make you feel better, know what I mean?"
"Hey, I'd rather know than not, Vin."
"Okay, then. The thing I heard is that some of the gang members, they were goin' missin'."
"Missin'?"
"Yeah. Just kinda not showin' up no more. People who'd been hurt, but, ya know, not so bad as you wouldn't expect to see 'em again."
"Well, they don't have the fine medical care that you do, Vin."
"I know, but still... And, ya know, some of 'em do show up again. Not many, but a few. When they come back, though... they start actin' all funny, like they don't think no one can hurt them no more."
"That's weird. You'd think they'd be more scared, after bein' hurt an' all."
"Exactly. But no. They start runnin' around, doin' things they oughtn'ta be able to do... Jumpin' around and whatnot. Real fast. Real agressive, too."
"You think they're juiced up?"
"I dunno, Les. Could be, but I dunno with what."
"Hmm. Got anythin' else?"
"Naw. That's alls I know."
"Well, thanks, Vin."
"Don't think nothin' of it, Les."
"Thanks. So, you hear about Luthor?" I asked, pretending to be casual.
"The boss man bitin' it? Yeah, everyone's talkin' 'bout that. Nobody seems to know nothin', though."
"Guy just escapes from prison, then turns up dead. It's weird."
"Hey, it happens. Not like he had so many friends after he got busted an' all, know what I mean?"
"Suppose not."
"Yeah. Bin nice talkin' to you, Les."
"You too, Vin."
"Hasta la vista, baby."
"Pasta la pizza to you, too."
"Heh. Later, Les."
"Later, Vin."
Well, that had been an interesting call. So, injured gang members were disappearing off the streets, and the ones who turned up again were the ones who'd been acting differently. Not much to go on, but it was definitely a start. Maybe Bobby would know something more.
First, though, I needed something for my throat; that voice wasn't easy to keep up. I reached for my cup, unconsciously expecting it to be full of hot coffee, made just the way I liked it. It felt oddly light, though, which was, of course, because it was empty. Clark hadn't filled it for me, like he always did, because Clark hadn't been there to do it.
I stared at the cup, as if it had somehow betrayed me by not filling itself. Then a new thought occurred, and I looked at it with sympathy instead. It wasn't its fault. It was just that, without Clark, it was empty.
After a moment, I shook myself. It was just a stupid coffee cup. Staring at it wasn't going to help Clark. Staring at it wasn't going to make it magically produce coffee, either. I got up, took it to the coffee machine, and filled it from the relatively fresh pot. There. Just because Clark wasn't around to take care of it didn't mean it had to sit around empty. I'd managed to fill it just fine without Clark, and I could do it again for a while. Just until I found Clark. Maybe, when I found him, I'd even start bringing *him* a full mug of coffee. We could fill each other's cups. It would be... pretty silly, actually. Oh well.
I stirred in a packet of sweetener, carefully not thinking about the fact that it was artificial, then returned to my desk. I was still sipping at it, my throat almost back to normal, when the phone rang. "Hello?"
"Lois? It's Tom Black." Ah. My contact at the Coast Guard. "Those pictures and files you sent were enough to get us a warrant last night. We searched the ship. Just like you said. They were smuggling prescription drugs. The ship and the drugs have been seized. We've confirmed that the ship is owned by CostMart, so the FDA will be knocking on their doors soon. They'll probably deny any knowledge of the smuggling operation, maybe blame some low-level types, but we might be able to get them anyway. Worth a try. Meantime, we'll be keeping a close eye on all their ships."
"Great. So how much of this can I publish?"
"Everything I just told you. Except, of course, the bit about where the information came from. Officially, that's 'an anonymous source.'"
"Right. Thanks, Tom."
"Thank you, Lois. We'd never have found these guys without you."
"Hey," I said casually, ignoring the fact that I still didn't know who'd sent me the tip in the first place, "it's what I do."
He chuckled. "Well, thanks for doing it. I'll be in touch."
After I hung up, I got straight to work on the story. I'd been writing it in my head during the odd moments when I hadn't been working on something else, so it went pretty quickly. When I was done, I turned to call Clark to come read it over, then caught myself. Instead, I sent it to Perry.
That done, I decided it was time to call Bobby. "Do you know anything about what happens to injured gang members?" I asked, once we'd gotten past the pleasantries.
"They go to a doctor. Someone who will patch them up without asking too many questions. Why?"
"I heard that some of them have been going missing, and the ones that turn up act like they're on drugs or something. Stronger, more agressive, that sort of thing."
"Hmm. I'd heard a rumor or two like that, but nothing I could be sure about. It's hard to keep track of all of the members, especially now that there are so many people being injured in the fights."
"Any idea what could be happening to them?"
"Nothing you obviously haven't thought of yourself. I'll look into it, see if I can find where they're getting treated."
"Thanks. By the way, do you know anything about Lex?"
"Just what's on the news. Escaped from prison, found dead at that airport just out of town, the one they use for small private planes. Maybe he was trying to get out of the country before the cops caught up with him. Although I did hear they found him closer to the hangars the crop dusters use than he was to the jet hangars. Maybe he was just taking the back way, to be more careful. I don't know."
"Hmmm. You find anything new about Flannegan?"
"Nah. No one seems to know anything about him, and believe me, there have been people looking. Not quite as much now that Superman's missing, but there are still plenty of people who want to know what happened to that piece of Kryptonite. Come to think, there's something strange there..."
"What?"
"You know how I said people aren't as interested now that Superman's missing? Well, some of them have been even less interested than the others. I hadn't really thought about it until just now, but they have definitely been asking fewer questions lately."
"Oh? Who?"
"They're not saying who they're working for, but I'll give you good odds it's Intergang."
"So they probably have Superman. Probably killed Flannegan, too."
"I don't know about that. They might well have Superman, but I don't think they're responsible for Flannegan. They were asking just as many questions as everyone else for the first few days there."
"That could have just been a cover."
"I guess. Doesn't feel like it, though. They seemed pretty sincere in the beginning."
"Hmm. I'll have to think about that. Thanks, Bobby."
"Sure thing, Lois."
After I hung up with Bobby, I called the 68th precinct and asked for Officer Sawyer.
"Sawyer here." She sounded just as tired as last time. I didn't know how she was managing.
"This is Lois Lane."
"Hi. Got anything new?"
"I was calling to see if you did."
"Oh. No, not really. Nothing on Flannegan. We're looking into it, but the trail's cold. I called the ME to ask about that green crystal, but it had already been thrown out. They only have so much room there, and with the case as it was -- no leads in days, bad part of town, no family to even notify -- there didn't seem to be much reason to keep things around. So, no way we can be sure, but I think it's clear enough that it wasn't a piece of a beer bottle. Especially since there wasn't even a trace of beer in his system."
"Right."
"Was that it?"
"Well, actually... Do you know anything about where injured gang members would go to get patched up?"
"The ER, probably. They won't refuse anyone, and they're not allowed to ask too many questions."
"Anyplace else?"
"Well, there are always a few people who will do that sort of work. Doctors in the area who won't ask questions because they care more about treating the patients or because they don't want to get involved in anything illegal. Others who aren't really doctors, or aren't able to practice legally anymore. Why do you ask?"
"I heard that some of the injured gang members have been disappearing. The few that come back are the ones you told me about, the ones who were stronger and more agressive."
There was a pause while she digested that. "I see," she said, after a moment. "That puts a new face on things. I'll mention it to some of the guys on the beat, let them know to keep an eye out. I'll call you if anything turns up."
"Thanks. Take care. Try to get some rest."
"I'll try. Bye."
"Bye."
When I put the phone down, Jimmy came over, looking a little stressed. He had a sheet of paper in his hand.
"I finished this a minute ago. It's the list you asked me for. I checked the ownership of all the buildings on the old list. Crossed off all the ones I couldn't trace back to CostMart. That wasn't as much as you might think. A couple years ago, Intergang bought up most of the buildings owned by Lexcorp. That's a lot of real estate that we know they own. There were some other properties I couldn't be sure of, so I left them in, just to be on the safe side. Left the abandoned ones, too, like that old air base outside of town. Anyone could be using that."
I blinked. He was right on that score. Jimmy didn't know it, but Jason Mazik had used that base as a hideout for exactly that reason.
"I crossed some places off because the lead-lined rooms are too publically accessible," Jimmy continued, "but that still leaves all of these. I can't be sure the list is complete, either. They could have lined a room without notifying the city. They had that whole complex under CostMart, right? The one Bill Church was using as his headquarters? The police have been keeping an eye on that, but there's no way to tell if Intergang built anything like that anywhere else."
"Thanks anyway, Jimmy. It was worth a look -- at this point, any possible lead is worth a look -- but I can't even be sure he is being kept in a lead-lined room. They might not feel the need, if they have Kryptonite. Lead only blocks that vision gizmo of his, and he won't be using that if he doesn't have his powers." Of course, it blocked sunlight, too, but the fewer people who knew that was important, the better. Besides, there were plenty of other things that blocked sunlight just as effectively. "Come to that, lead blocks Kryptonite. They might not want to take the chance that he could use it to shield himself."
"Yeah, I guess not."
"Sorry, Jimmy."
"Don't worry about it, Lois. It felt good to be able to do something to try to help. I'm just sorry it didn't work out."
Jimmy wandered off, and I turned back to my desk. Not seeing anything better to do, I picked up the puff piece I hadn't managed to finish the day before. I was just putting the finishing touches on it (and wishing Clark was there to help me do it) when Henderson called.
"I got the autopsy report," he told me.
"What did it show?"
"He was shot in the chest at point-blank range. Three bullets. Spaced fairly widely apart, given the circumstances. From markings on the skin, it looks like he'd been tied down for a while. Given that and the trajectory of the bullets, it looks like the gunman's hand was probably moving around. Shaking, maybe. Now, no one at the airport heard gunshots, and someone tied up would be fairly obvious. So, clearly the body was moved after death. No idea why anyone would want to dump a body there. Maybe it was an accident, or intended to send a message to someone. Who knows?"
I didn't know what I'd expected, but that wasn't it. Who would have done all that? Lex had undoubtedly made more than his share of enemies, but why tie him up, shoot him, and then leave his body at an airport? If it was supposed to send a message, what was the message and whom was it for? Was the message for me? It was, after all, the airport where --
"Lois? You there?"
"What? Oh, yeah. Sorry, Bill. I was just thinking..."
"Oh. Well, I'll let you do that, then."
"Thanks," I said, still distracted.
"Bye, Lois."
"Bye, Bill." I hung up the phone, absent-mindedly. It still didn't make sense. Sure, it was the same airport where we'd landed after Lex had proposed to me, but who would know about that? It was also the airport where Miranda had hijacked a plane, intending to spray the city with her pheromone. So many other things had happened there, too, over the years. Maybe one of Lex's business dealings? Or maybe the killer had simply been an amateur who'd decided to make it look like Lex was trying to flee the country, without really thinking things through. There were so many possibilities, and none of them seemed quite right. What was I missing?
******
Clark's POV
When I woke up the next time, I was alone. I couldn't tell how long I'd been asleep, but it seemed like it had been a while. Listening to the TV, I realized it had been about ten hours. So, I was being given a chance to recover a bit from that last dose of Kryptonite. I certainly wasn't about to object. I stayed slumped, trying to look as sickly possible, just in case I was being watched. It wasn't hard. I was still pretty weak, and my muscles were feeling stiff from having been held in pretty much the same position for so long. Still, I was feeling better than I had since I'd been captured. If I could keep it up, there was a chance that I could escape, or at least find out a little more about where I was. I tried listening, but all I could hear was the TV, which was still tuned to LNN. There were more stories about people I hadn't been around to save.
I think my captor meant to torture me with those, but they only served to make me angry. Hearing those stories reminded me that I wasn't the only one my captor was hurting by keeping me here. Quietly, I strengthened my resolve to escape.
I stretched my aching muscles as best I could. I needed to be ready for any opportunity. I tried my best to make it look like I was weak and confused, shifting around to try to get loose, but unable to do so effectively. I did take the opportunity to test my bonds, but they were still too tight to break.
When I'd done the best I could with that, I slumped again. I listened for a while to the news. There was a follow-up story on Luthor, but I could tell that they were only trying to hide the fact that they had no actual new information. They moved on, and I listened to see if there was anything else of interest. Sometime during the weather report, I fell back asleep.
******
Lois's POV
I didn't really manage to get much done that afternoon. I worked as best I could, but my heart just wasn't in it. My thoughts kept wandering. I was trying to think of anything else I could do to find Clark. Towards the end of the workday, Bobby called me back. He gave me an address on the outskirts of the Slum. He said that a lot of the gangs had been taking their injured members there. Most of them were treated and then sent back home to recover, but some of them had been kept longer. Those wasn't always the most seriously injured, though. There wasn't really a clear pattern that Bobby had been able to find. Some of them were low-ranking members, others were leaders. Most of them were known as fighters, but then, that was the reason they'd been injured in the first place.
I wondered how to investigate that further. Go undercover, probably, but in what guise? Or was there another way?
While I was thinking it through, I took the time to check email. There was a new message from my admirer.
TO: LLane@dailyplanet.com
FROM: SecretSanta@goal.com
DATE: 02/03/96 05:32:47 PM
RE: Congratulations!
My dear Lois,
I just saw this evening's paper. I knew you wouldn't let me down. Congratulations on getting the story, and so quickly, too!
Wise of you to keep yourself as an anonymous source. I do believe the investigation has made some people rather upset. Be careful. They may decide to wonder why you got the scoop.
If you're up for it, I have another tip for you. Take a look into the medical treatment in Suicide Slum, particularly the gangs'. I'm sorry I can't be more specific yet, but I have confidence in your capabilities.
Best of luck. Take care.
Love,
Your Secret Admirer
No new information this time, but my admirer probably didn't know that. Still, it seemed like all the more reason I should check out that address Bobby had found. Looking at it, though, something bugged me. I had a feeling I'd seen it before, but I wasn't sure where. After a moment, I had a thought. I grabbed the paper Jimmy had left on my desk. There it was, towards the bottom of the list of lead-lined buildings owned by subsidiaries of CostMart.
Intergang was running a mysterious illegal hospital with disappearing patients, and they'd lined it with lead. How very interesting.
