Table of Contents
From Part 18:"I want him
hurt! Luthor raged, for once losing his cool entirely. "I want him to suffer for attempting to make a fool of me. And Lois Lane... if she cares about Kent as much as she appears, I want her thoroughly distracted worrying about him. Now, do I have to do this myself?"
"No, sir," Nigel replied, sounding unusually chastened. "I will take care of - and this time I'll do the job myself. But the timing will be crucial if it is to look like an accident. Two apparent accidents in one day could be suspicious. So tomorrow...?"
Luthor grunted, clearly not completely satisfied. "If it has to be tomorrow, then so be it. Those two have become far too much of a thorn in the side. I want Kent in the hospital for at least a week. If his injuries are life-threatening, that will feel even sweeter," he added, a smile at last curving over the stern features.
"Nothing could be easier," Nigel commented; the expression on his face told his employer that the Briton was already planning and that this was the kind of activity he loved most.
"Let me know when it's done." Luthor turned away and marched out of the room.
**********
Now read on...There was one downside to sharing his apartment, Clark thought, glancing at his watch for what seemed like the fiftieth time. Sharing the bathroom. He was beginning to regret his gentlemanly gesture in letting her go first: Lois had been in there almost half an hour now. Of course, she didn't have the ability to work at super-speed, but even when he did everything at human speed he never took more than about fifteen minutes. Just what did women do when they got in the bathroom?
And, of course, his bathroom was inconveniently placed off his bedroom, with no door from the main living area. So Lois had to go through his bedroom each time. Out of courtesy, he was waiting in the living-room, not his bedroom, but if he'd known she was going to be this long he could have spent the time getting his disguise ready for tonight.
He pushed his irritation aside and focused on their plans. He'd managed to get himself hired at the club as a bar-tender, having made a trip over there while Lois was sorting out her insurance that afternoon. The insurance company had kept her on the phone for almost an hour before informing her that the relevant manager hadn't yet made a decision on whether the company would be willing to pay out. By the time Clark had got back, she'd been fuming.
But she'd been pleased that he'd got himself an undercover role; her annoyance earlier that day about what she saw as his over-protectiveness seemed to have vanished. Or else she'd accepted that he really wasn't trying to edge her out of the story - or any stories.
So he'd be behind the bar, while she would be up on stage - in full view of everyone, a fact which didn't please him. All the same, her costume should be a reasonably effective disguise. She'd shown it - reluctantly - to him: a chicken outfit.
"You dare laugh, Kent, and the next time I write about Superman I'll make some comment about your
tight tights, you hear?" she'd threatened. He'd grinned, even though he'd been inwardly blushing at her comment. She'd
noticed the tights? But of course she had, he'd acknowledged immediately. Hadn't he known himself that they were... well, eye-catching? And hadn't his mom made that comment that nobody would be looking at his face? But the thought of Lois... well, ogling his body in that way made him uncomfortable.
You look at her! he told himself now.
But not when she was as good as naked, he objected.
Really? You've never just happened to notice how good her legs look when she's wearing a short skirt?Yes, he admitted. He had looked at Lois admiringly. He'd looked at other women in the same way, too. And now he understood exactly what women meant when they said a man looked at them as if they were a piece of meat. That was exactly how he felt when, as Superman, he - his body, not his face - was the subject of appraising stares.
"Bathroom's free!" Lois yelled. And a streak of pale robe-clad woman hurried past him as he swung around.
"Thanks," he called, and strode into the bathroom. And stopped dead.
What was
that?
Dangly things were hanging over the shower-rail. He got closer and inspected them.
Panty-hose. He rolled his eyes.
That wasn't fair, he told himself. She had to wash them, especially considering she probably only had a couple of pairs now, since the fire. She had to hang them somewhere. But not on the shower-rail when he needed to take a shower!
Gingerly, he took the two pairs down, trying not to let himself dwell on the fact that, routinely, these covered Lois's legs. Clung to them. Caressed them.
Stop it! he told himself.
The nylon was wet. He took a deep breath, then focused on them, allowing a warm stream of heat-vision to flow over the panty-hose. Within seconds, they were dry, and he went back out to the kitchen and left them on the table for her.
Okay. Time for his shower. Clark wondered ruefully if he now needed to make it a cold one.
**********
Lois high-kicked in time with the other dancers, straining to keep her movements synchronised with them while she also focused on the people in the bar and the comings and goings. She couldn't hear anything, of course, from her position on stage; apart from the very loud music, she was too far from anyone to hear any conversation. Clark, naturally, wouldn't have any such problems, she reflected ruefully. In fact, this was the kind of undercover investigation where he really didn't need her at all. If there was anything to see, or to overhear, he would find it. He'd probably come back to the apartment later having found out everything the Metros were up to.
Did Clark Superman Kent really need a reporting partner? she asked herself again. He'd said that he did. He'd assured her that he needed her; that he respected her talents as an investigator and her quick mind, as well as her abilities as a writer.
She sneaked a glance towards where he was working at the bar. He was busy serving a customer, his movements graceful and quick as he set drinks on the bar counter. Unless anyone looked closely, he would be impossible to recognise as Clark Kent, she reflected again; he'd styled his hair differently, worn a pair of glasses she hadn't seen on him before and which were a completely different shape to his usual ones, and he'd applied a neatly-trimmed fake goatee and moustache.
His disguise was a lot more palatable than hers. Lois grimaced inwardly as she caught a glimpse of her tail-feathers. To give Clark his due, he hadn't so much as let his mouth twitch when she'd emerged from her new upstairs bedroom in the costume. He'd just held her coat for her and wished her luck before she left.
She directed her gaze slowly around the bar again. Nothing suspicious, just customers getting drunk and ogling the dancers. Oh, she really needed to get off this stage and start snooping around in the back! Toni Taylor was around, and earlier she'd caught a glimpse of her brother Johnny, but she hadn't had a opportunity to overhear any conversations. She needed a shift waiting tables for that.
Following the movements of the dance, Lois turned her back to the audience and shook her butt for several seconds before turning around again. And in the interval, someone new had come into the bar and was now sitting at a table near the stage with Toni Taylor.
It was Lex Luthor.
So her source was right: Luthor did frequent the place. Now the question was: why?
She already knew that it couldn't possibly be for any innocent, above-board reason. There were dozens of clubs, wine-bars and bars in the upscale area where Luthor's offices and penthouse were located. If all he wanted was a drink and some entertainment, he could find it in far more salubrious surroundings. Not to mention an establishment where he could be certain that the glassware was clean. And it wasn't as if the Metro Club had an outstanding reputation for its food, or the quality of the entertainment, or anything like that.
No; if Lex Luthor was here, and socialising with Toni Taylor, something was going on.
Clark had to be right. It must be connected to Luthor's proposed development and the fires in the West River area. And if he was talking to one of the Taylor family, it had to involve the Metro Gang. So were the Metros behind the fires? And was Luthor funding and orchestrating it all?
She just wished that she could get close enough to overhear what they were talking about. Maybe Clark could, though; Lois glanced quickly over at her partner again, hoping that he'd noticed the new arrival. Clark was again serving a customer and seemed focused on his task - but then she noticed the flick of his eyes towards the table where Luthor was sitting. Good. He'd noticed and was monitoring the situation.
Lois returned her attention to the bar area in front of her - and realised that Lex Luthor was looking straight at her.
*********
Clark was aware of the very instant Luthor recognised his partner. A casual observer would never have noticed; the well-dressed, looking-slightly-out-of-place man in the dark business suit seemed perfectly relaxed as he sipped his drink and chatted to his companion.
But Clark noticed the infinitesimal stilling, the moment when Luthor paused and did a very minute double-take. The billionaire's heart-rate speeded up briefly and his grip on his drink tightened; for a fraction of a second, a look of pure fury crossed his face. But just as quickly the urbane expression was back.
He'd recognised Lois. But there was nothing that Clark could do about that right now. He would, though, make very sure that Lois got away safely - and yet again he felt very relieved that she was staying with him. It made it much more difficult for Luthor to get to her or harm her in any way.
For now, all he could do was try to overhear as much as possible of Luthor's conversation with his female companion. Toni Taylor - it was she who had given Clark - or Charlie King - the bar-tending job earlier that day. The bar supervisor had insisted that they weren't hiring, but just as he'd been about to leave an attractive blonde woman had emerged from a back room. She'd asked what was going on and had then given Clark a very deliberate once-over. Observing that it was about time that female customers and staff had some eye-candy around the place, she'd immediately hired him.
Toni Taylor. Part of the Taylor family, owners of the club and, as he and Lois suspected, controllers of the Metro Gang. Sharing drinks with Lex Luthor, billionaire and would-be property developer in the West River area... oh yes, he could certainly guess at what they might be discussing. He tried to zero in on their conversation, doing his best to shut out the variety of noise from elsewhere in the bar.
Apart from anything else, he was anxious to know whether Luthor intended blowing Lois's cover. If the other man were to tell Toni Taylor who Lois was, then not only would Lois be out of the club - and perhaps in big trouble - but also any chance of finding out anything about the Metros and the arson attacks would be lost. They'd already lost any chance they might have had of getting anything on Luthor, Clark was sure; the older man was far too clever to discuss anything incriminating with a reporter in the vicinity.
"... the old jeans factory... corner of March and Fremont... out of the picture," Luthor was saying. Clark concentrated, trying to catch Toni Taylor's response. This sounded promising, but he had to be sure that Luthor meant what he thought he meant...
"I said, can I get a whisky sour, please?"
Clark blinked, readjusting his hearing as the customer at the bar almost deafened him. "Sorry, sir," he said immediately, hoping that his inattention hadn't caught the attention of anyone who might wonder at it.
Having served the customer, Clark glanced over at Luthor and his companion again. He really needed to get closer... Clearing the tables was supposed to be the job of the table servers, but since the bar was quiet and the servers were busy at the other end of the room, Clark decided that he could get away with it.
He moved smoothly out from behind the bar and began to collect used glasses, moving ever closer to Luthor's table but ensuring that Luthor never got a direct look at his face. And then the conversation became clearer. Carefully, Clark slid a hand into his pocket and squeezed the record button on the miniature tape recorder Lois had 'borrowed' from the newsroom.
"...should be able to arrange that for tomorrow," Toni Taylor was saying.
"The earlier the better," Luthor said, pausing to take a sip of his drink. "Once that’s up in flames I'll be able to persuade the idiots in the next few buildings that they'll be far better off accepting my company's offer than taking the risk that they'll be next."
Bingo! He had the proof he and Lois needed. Okay, covertly-recorded material wasn't admissible in court, but it was a start.
He turned away and began to clear another table, still listening.
"I need to contact the Toasters - and they don’t make it easy," Taylor replied. "Usually, the deal is they come to me. So I can't guarantee it'll be early."
Luthor's voice held a note of warning. "Make it early. Don't you have another big meeting with Johnny tomorrow? You need my money if you're going to keep control of the Metros, Toni."
"Don't threaten me, Lex." Toni was clearly angry. "I said I'd try. And you should remember what I have locked away in my safe, if we're talking threats. You wouldn't want that getting out."
Clark risked a glance at Luthor; the billionaire looked furiously angry. "You were supposed to destroy that!" he snapped.
"Did you really think I'd be that stupid? That document's my insurance policy!"
"Your best insurance policy is to do what I told you," Luthor said coldly. "If you're stupid enough to do anything else, you know I'll make sure you get taken down too. And you can't exactly afford the best attorneys without my help, can you?"
"Lex..." Toni began. Then her tone changed. "Charlie! What are you doing away from the bar? Leave the girls to clean tables!"
"Sorry, Toni," Clark apologised, doing his best to disguise his voice; hurrying back to the bar, he again kept his profile averted from Luthor's view.
He needed to see what was in that safe. Ten minutes, fifteen tops, he could take a bathroom break, and then he'd take a look. Clark smiled inwardly as it occurred to him that Lois was usually the half of the partnership who indulged in breaking and entering and acquiring documents illicitly; she'd be very surprised when he told her what he'd done. Impressed, he hoped. Though that was probably somewhat optimistic; she'd be put out that he'd done it without her.
Oh well. He'd explain it to her somehow. After all, they were a team. And sometimes one team member just had to drop back and let the other one take the lead. Right now, he was in the best position to get the touchdown, and if Lois had to wait by the sidelines... well, that was too bad.
On second thoughts, perhaps he'd better not put it quite like that.
He served a few more customers and prepared orders for a couple of the waiting staff, and almost jumped when one of the women, who had come behind the bar to get some change from the till, patted his butt. "Hey, cutie!" she trilled. "What you doing after closing?"
Wincing - was this was women had to put up with? - Clark gave her what he hoped was a regretful smile. "Sorry - my girlfriend's expecting me home."
"Shame." The waitress pulled a face. "Any time you get tired of her, I'm available!"
"I'll remember that," Clark promised insincerely before finding something to do to make himself look busy.
Luthor and Taylor were still talking, though he had no idea what about; he didn't want to risk being caught watching them. After a few minutes, the bar grew quieter and Clark called across to the other tender, "Okay if I take a bathroom break?"
The guy shrugged. "Sure."
The staff restrooms were through a door marked 'Employees Only'. The corridor through the door led to the dancers' dressing-room, the restrooms and then on down to the management offices. Just in case anyone might have been watching, Clark went into the men's restroom; having checked that it was empty, he darted back out at super-speed and shot down the corridor, X-raying walls as he went.
Only one of the management offices had a safe. It was well-hidden, behind a bar-fridge well-stocked with a local brand of beer. The coast was clear; Clark, using his bar-apron to avoid leaving fingerprints, carefully opened the door. He didn't need to put on the light.
Moving the fridge to get at the safe was a simple task for someone with his skills, and opening the safe took under a second - it had a simple combination lock and it was extremely easy to hear the cylinders slotting into place. Clark scanned the contents without touching them; there were a couple of stacks of cash, used bills in mixed denominations, and several documents. The first few related to the ownership of the premises, insurance papers, fire-inspection certificates and so on; nothing at all interesting. But then Clark noticed something odd about the interior dimensions of the safe, and he realised that it had a false bottom.
A quick X-ray showed him the release mechanism for the hidden compartment - and he hit pay-dirt.
Luthor had been incredibly careless - or incredibly trusting. He had actually put in writing his arrangement with Toni Taylor to have parts of West River burned down. The amounts to be paid for each fire were detailed, with distribution of the cash as between Taylor and the arsonists, referred to as the Toasters, to be determined by Taylor. There was a final amount which would be payable on completion of the contract. And the document even specified what would happen if the Toasters were busted and their financing traced back to the Metro Club: Taylor would take the fall without incriminating Luthor, but Luthor would take care of her legal fees and provide a lump sum which she would claim once she had served her prison sentence.
No wonder Luthor had wanted this document destroyed. Clark could only marvel that the billionaire had ever allowed it to exist in the first place.
Presumably it had been Toni Taylor who had drawn it up. Just how she'd got Luthor to sign it was beyond Clark. However, that simple piece of paper was dynamite. An insurance policy, indeed.
Very carefully, again using his apron so as not to leave fingerprints on the paper, he pulled it out of the compartment. A quick scan of another cupboard revealed a stack of stationery, and he was pleased to see that there were some clear plastic folders; it was the task of less than a second to slide the contract into one and hide it in his pocket. Moments later, the safe was locked again, its secret compartment again hidden, and Clark had pushed the bar-fridge back in front of it.
A quick scan of the hallway told him that it was safe to leave, and he zipped faster than the human eye could see back to the men's room. Emerging at normal speed a few seconds later, he made his way back to the bar. "Thanks, Carl," he called to his colleague.
Lois was still dancing on stage, along with the rest of the farmyard animals; Clark could imagine how much she was hating that part of her undercover role. He was longing to tell her what he'd discovered, but it was just too risky to try to talk to her at the club - especially with Lex Luthor still hanging around. He sat alone now, just sipping another drink and watching the dancers. Was he waiting for Lois to finish her routine so that he could talk to her? Well, he wouldn't get the chance; Clark was determined on that.
...we need more engines as fast as you can get them here! This fire is burning out of control!Clark stilled. Another fire? He could hear the sirens now, and they weren't coming from far away. The Toasters striking again. Did he need to go? But he couldn't - there was no way he could risk leaving Lois on her own with Luthor hanging around. It was too dangerous.
...someone trapped on the top floor - can't reach...With a sick feeling in his stomach, Clark realised that he had no choice. If a life was at stake, he had to leave. Superman was needed.
But what about Lois? he asked himself even as he was working out the easiest escape-route from the club.
Lois would tell him that she didn't need his protection. Only that morning, she'd complained again that he was too over-protective - and if she found out that Superman had been needed and he hadn't gone because of her, she'd be furious. He needed to show her that he did trust her to look after himself, he acknowledged. Superman would go to the fire. And Lois would be fine. Wouldn't she?
Casting his Charlie King undercover role to oblivion - he'd be fired for this, of a certainty - Clark ducked under the hatch and marched swiftly to the employee exit. Within seconds, he was airborne.
*********
...tbc
