Pirelli, they later learned, had been taken into police custody. Also, the police had found the art inventories at his office and had already begun to send investigators to the various warehouses listed, including the one at Barton. Clark got twitchy at that point, and Lois couldn’t figure out why, until she suddenly remembered the boxes of red and green kryptonite.
<<Do you want to tell them to search for the kryptonite?>> she asked him quickly.
<<The fewer people know that stuff is around, the better.>> he’d answered. <But I guess I’d rather the police got hold of it than anyone else.>>
So he proceeded to inform the detective-in-charge that he had strong reason to suspect there were kryptonite stashes at the Barton warehouse, and got an undertaking that the police would keep a look-out and place it under lock and key if they found any.
The detective admitted, when Lois asked him, that this had all the hallmarks of becoming a major investigation. Clark, in return, showed his mettle by dangling information about Lois’s forgery discoveries in front of the detective as a bargaining chip to secure first call for the Planet on any new case developments.
But really, they already had plenty of material to write the first set of stories. As a courtesy to her temporary boss, Lois showed some of their work to the Arts editor, but he immediately told her that this was front page stuff and instructed them to submit everything directly to Clark’s boss, the Editor-in-Chief. In the meantime, the Arts editor told his staff to put together background material on the story for the arts pages.
Some time later they were both summoned into the Editor-in-Chief’s office. He waved them to sit while he finished reading his computer screen.
After making them wait longer than Lois thought was necessary, he swivelled around. “Nice work,” he commented evenly.
“Thank you,” replied Clark.
He nodded. “I take it we’re first with this?”
“Yes, Clark and I broke the story together,” said Lois. “Using some good old-fashioned investigative skills,” she drawled. “It’s how we used to do things around here.”
The editor raised one eyebrow. “I see.” He looked at Clark. “I also take it that we’ll be first in line if and when the police have any hot information?”
“Of course,” said Clark.
“When we do a job, we do it properly,” added Lois.
“Really?” He leant back in his chair. “Well, other than the fact that you didn’t bother to inform me that you were both working on this, I guess it’s a job well done,” he said.
Lois’s hackles rose. “Is that all you can say – a job well done?” she exclaimed heatedly. “Have you any idea what’s involved in getting an exclusive like this? Do you have even the slightest clue what it cost Clark to get this story for you? Don’t you realise we’ve just delivered one of the biggest stories of the year right into your lap, and you didn’t even have to raise your little finger?”
It was only when she ran out of steam that she discovered she’d risen out of her chair and was leaning angrily over the editor’s desk with her face mere inches from his.
He pushed his chair backwards and stood up. “Thank you, Lois. I am aware of all that. I know you’re used to a more demonstrative approach from the likes of Perry White, but I’m afraid that’s not my style. Clark, I notice your ex is involved with this. Any problem with that?”
Lois subsided back down into her chair and glanced at Clark. She was pretty certain he’d resent his editor bringing up the subject of Lana, and she was right – he pursed his lips and uttered a curt, “No.”
The editor nodded curtly. “Good man. So keep me posted, okay, when you’re doing the follow-ups. I’d rather not be the last one to know what my paper’s getting involved in.”
“Sure,” replied Clark. “Was there anything else?”
He appeared to consider for a few moments. “Is there a Superman angle here?”
Clark’s hands tightened on his chair arms with an audible creak. “Not really.”
“Come on, Clark, I’m sure you must have used some of your unique abilities to break the story,” he said, switching on a coaxing tone. “The readers love reading about that sort of stuff.”
“So does the criminal world,” retorted Lois, barely managing to contain her anger. “Do you really think it’s a good idea for Superman to reveal how he catches the bad guys?”
“True.” The editor shrugged. “Pity, though. That stuff really makes the copies fly off the newsstands...no pun intended,” he added with a smirk in Clark’s direction.
Clark stood, his movements tense and stiff. “If there’s nothing else, we’ll be leaving,” he said. “It’s been a long day.”
“Fine.” The editor waved them away, but as Clark opened the door to leave, he added, “Oh, and Clark?”
“Yes?”
“This is a great start, and I’m genuinely pleased that you’ve bagged us this scoop, but it is only a start. You’ve still got a way to go before I’m ready to believe you’re able to pull your full weight on this team. Okay?”
That was enough! Lois made to storm back into the room and give the editor another piece of her mind, but Clark placed a hand on her arm to hold her back. “Actually,” he replied, his voice suddenly much harder, “it’s not okay.”
Lois closed her mouth and stared with surprise at a grim-faced Clark. The suppressed anger came off him in waves as he stood eying his editor.
“I’m sorry?” responded the editor, clearly surprised by the lack of subservient acquiescence from his reporter.
“I don’t mind you criticising me for not bringing in enough hard news stories,” Clark said, “although I think you’ll find I actually produce just as much as any other reporter on the staff. I don’t mind when you barely acknowledge the work I do – I know when I’ve written a good piece of journalism, even if you don’t. I don’t even mind you criticising the amount of time I take off work, although, again, I think you’ll find that’s less to do with sick leave and more to do with my Superman duties.”
He planted his feet firmly apart, crossed his arms over his chest, and used all of his height to stare forebodingly down at his editor. “Which brings me to what I do object to,” he said. “Superman is not here so that you can sell more newspapers. He is not some marketing gimmick. He is not a brand name. He has a serious job to do, and believe me, if it ever comes to a choice between chasing down a story for this newspaper and saving lives, he will always choose the latter. If you can’t accept that, then you’ll have my resignation first thing tomorrow morning. Okay?”
The editor walked slowly around his desk and came to stand right in front of Clark. “There’s no need to challenge my moral standards, Clark,” he murmured, his face mere inches from Clark’s. “Frankly, I’d sack you on the spot if I ever thought you’d compromised lives to get a story – just as I would any other reporter who did a similar thing.
“Now,” he continued, moving back to perch on the edge of his desk, “somewhere in that somewhat hysterical outburst, I guess you were trying to make a point.” He shrugged. “Yes, I concede that I use Superman to sell newspapers - I’d be a fool not to. You’d like me to stop – no, I’m afraid I won’t. Keeping you on the staff makes sound business sense, and actually, contrary to what you might think, I believe you’re a good reporter. You’re not a great reporter, but one of these days, you might very well become one if you can ever find the right balance between your rescue work and the Planet.”
“And what if he doesn’t?” demanded Lois. “Balancing two full-time jobs like his is almost impossible. Will you continue to belittle his work and make snide comments about his absences?”
The editor turned long-suffering eyes on Lois. “If you’d been here when he consistently rolled in after eleven, still drugged up to the eyeballs and barely able to string two sentences together, you’d understand why my patience with him isn’t what it used to be.”
“And when did he last do anything like that?” she demanded. “When are you going to stop making him pay for past mistakes?”
He shrugged. “When I have evidence that he’ll never do it again.”
“Don’t you realise that your negative attitude towards him is making that less likely?” she seethed. “If you treated him like a success rather than a failure, you might just get that great reporter you think he has the potential to become.”
She was just winding up for another salvo, when she sensed movement behind her. “She has a point, son,” interjected a familiar, Southern-sounding voice. “I’d listen if I were you.”
Lois whirled around to find Perry standing in the doorway. “What...?”
“Am I doing here?” he finished for her with a grin. “Well, you are now looking...” He held out his arms as if to exhibit himself to the small group in the editor’s office. “At the ex-mayor of Metropolis,” he finished proudly.
“What?” exclaimed Clark, beating Lois to the same response by a whisker. “What happened?”
Perry grinned broadly. “I resigned.”
“Why?” This time, the word was a chorus from all three of them.
“Because I was no good at it,” he said. “Heck, I never really wanted to stand for mayor in the first place. If Mr Olsen hadn’t talked me into it, I never would have run.” He chuckled. “It’s taken me too long to realise it, but this is where I really belong. Always have, always will.”
Lois stared along with Clark at their ex-editor, while a small voice from behind them said, “Huh?”
Perry moved past Lois and Clark into the centre of the room. Glanced around with interest at his old stomping ground. “Sorry to do this to you, son,” he told the editor, “but the suits upstairs have decided you’re not shaping up the way they’d hoped.” He shrugged. “The official letter and everything will along soon, I’m sure, but in the meantime, I couldn’t resist a quick visit to check things out.”
He took another lingering glance around the room, then turned back to address Clark. “Now, I may be an old sentimental softie, but I won’t tolerate any monkey business around here,” he said sternly. “I expect you to be here on time, sober, and ready for work whenever your Superman duties permit, you hear?”
Clark blinked like a startled rabbit. “Uh, yes. Sure.”
Lois got a puzzled look from Clark, and in turn, she eyed Perry warily. “Does this mean...” she began tentatively.
“...what I think it means?” finished Clark.
Perry grinned. “Just call me Chief.”
****************
Later that day they were sitting on high stools at Lois’s favourite sandwich bar eating a late lunch. The entire newsroom had been on a high ever since Perry’s announcement, and Lois thought she’d never seen Clark look so happy at work. Now he was biting enthusiastically into a huge hamburger and relating an old story involving Perry and some hapless advertising executive.
“So the guy scuttled away and was never seen of again,” he finished. “That’s how Perry deals with the pencil-pushers, as he calls them. What’s-his-name would never have had the guts to do anything like that.”
Lois rolled her eyes. “Clark, you don’t need to tell me how wonderful Perry is as an editor,” she reminded him. “I knew him as editor-in-chief long before you did.”
He grinned. “Sorry, I keep forgetting. I’m just so happy that he’s back.”
“I noticed. And so am I.” She took a nibble from her tuna salad roll and regarded him thoughtfully. “That was quite a show you put on earlier, when you stood up to old what’s-his-name.”
“Yeah, well,” he said with a shrug, “I’d had enough of being pushed around. I don’t know why I didn’t do it sooner, actually.”
“You had a lot on your mind, I guess,” she said.
“Maybe.” He drank some Pepsi and took another huge bite out of his hamburger. “Actually, I know why I didn’t do it sooner.”
“Oh?”
He put down his food and turned to her. “You weren’t there.”
“Huh?”
He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t know...I just seem able to do better when you’re around. I mean, look at what happened at the warehouse. I was beginning to get high on the red k until you came along and told me to fight it.” He smiled. “Then today, you started defending my corner in the editor’s office, so I did, too. You’re my one-woman coach.”
She laughed. “Well, it works both ways, you know.”
”It does?”
”At the warehouse...” She remembered the menacing guard’s threats and what had nearly happened to her that night and wasn’t able to smile any longer. “You prevented me from beating that guy almost to death,” she murmured. “And I’m not sure I would have gotten past that point if you hadn’t been there. I needed your strength to pull me through.”
“But I wasn’t much use, surely?” he protested. “I wasn’t able to do a thing.”
“You were there, and that was enough,” she said. “And you told me to fight his taunts, so I did.” She took another bite from her roll. “I guess we helped each other.”
“Yes, we did.”
Their eyes met, and, just for a moment, the sounds of the bustling café faded away and there was complete stillness between them. Holding his gaze steadfastly, she didn’t feel awkward, just...connected. As if they shared an understanding that ran far deeper than mere words.
“So,” he said, breaking the stillness with a jerky smile, “I was thinking I should phone the police and ask whether they found the kryptonite in Barton.”
“Yeah.” And yes, they couldn’t sit staring into each other’s eyes all afternoon! There was work to do.
And, when they did return to the Planet and Clark made his call, there was more good news awaiting them. The police had indeed found the boxes of kryptonite and had removed them to a secure lock-up.
“Clark, that’s wonderful!” Lois exclaimed. Not that she trusted the Metropolis Police Department to hold the stuff safe forever: she had little doubt that, if it was ever deemed necessary to control Superman, they wouldn’t hesitate to deploy it or hand it over to another government agency. Still, better the MPD had it than a bunch of criminals. For now.
He beamed up at her from his desk. “Yes. No more worries about being caught unawares by the red stuff.”
Impetuously, she leaned over his desk, planted her hands on his shoulders and kissed him. “I’m so pleased for you,” she declared.
He looked a little shell-shocked when she eased back a couple of inches. “So am I,” he replied, a slow, but very broad grin, spreading over his face.
***************
