This section, I actually skipped for awhile a few months back, when it was really going slowly. I wrote around it, knowing I'd have to go back and resolve it but not sure how that would work. I actually got quite far past it before I came back and finally wrote it.
From part 5:
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, and moved toward the elevator. Glancing back at him, she saw he was watching her. She stepped into the elevator and saw him turn away. At top speed, she pressed the ‘close door’ button, waited for the door to close at least halfway, then zipped out of the elevator. Moving too fast to be seen, she sped into the stairwell, opening the stairway door just far enough to slip through and immediately pushing it closed again.
Scanning through the door, she watched him glance around, then boldly open her desk drawer and remove the folder.
“Gotcha, you creep,” she whispered, and sped up the stairwell to the roof.
---
The Girl Next Door, part 6:
Lois arrived at the Planet just before the morning staff meeting. She dumped her bag in the bottom drawer of her desk, and then made a quick scan of the newsroom. Claude was nowhere in sight. She pulled the top drawer of her desk open, confirming what she already knew - her story was missing.
The meeting started slightly later than usual – Mr. White had been upstairs with the ‘suits’ - but otherwise proceeded as normal. Claude still hadn’t arrived. Mr. White said nothing about Lois’s story, although she assumed Claude had turned it in already – he would have wanted to do so before she had a chance to discover it was gone.
Of course, if Claude had turned it in this morning, after fleshing it out to look like his own story, Mr. White might not have read it yet. In the normal course of things, the morning meeting addressed ongoing and follow-up stories, and Mr. White spoke individually to reporters after editing any stories they submitted during the day.
“That’s it, people!” the editor’s voice ending the meeting brought Lois out of her reverie. “Get out there and get me some news!” he continued in his usual motivate-the-writers bellow.
There was the customary general rush of pushed-back chairs, a gathering of papers and coffee cups and half-finished donuts, and a semi-orderly mass exodus from the conference room, while one or two Planet employees approached Mr. White for ‘a quick word’ or a question. The room cleared rapidly as each employee hurried back to his or her desk to start the day’s assignments.
Lois exited with the others and returned to her desk, sat down, and booted up her computer. She’d jotted notes in the margins of the morning assignment handout during the meeting; now would be a good time to look those over again. But it was hard to concentrate on anything other than her story.
Now what? Did she go to Mr. White? Wait for him to call her into his office?
And where was Claude? Had he given Mr. White her story? Lois didn’t like feeling directionless, and she was bursting with the need to *act*, to wrap up this particular situation. Where *was* Claude? Out on a story, perhaps?
Was she… had she misjudged him? But no – she’d *seen* him take her story. She’d *heard* his comments to Ralph.
She sighed, and tried again to concentrate on the information listed on her handout. Mr. White’s voice, booming across the newsroom at his usual volume, actually managed to startle her. “Lois!” he called. “My office, please!”
Her heart started to pound. Was this it? There was no way of knowing from the tone of his voice. Everyone in the newsroom was used to his bellow, to his method of managing his reporters from the doorway of his office, and to his usual manner of addressing whatever reporter he needed to speak to. There was nothing unusual about his summons whatsoever.
She rose and headed for his office.
---
Mr. White was seated at his desk when she stepped through the doorway. She’d already scanned quickly through the office walls, even though she knew Claude wasn’t there.
“Yes, Mr. White?” she asked, stopping near the chairs in front of his desk. He had papers spread out over almost the entire surface, and even had a stack of papers balanced on the top of his computer monitor. There was a Daily Planet coffee cup filled with blue pencils positioned within easy reach of his right hand.
“Sit down, please,” he said gruffly. As she sank into the chair closest to her, he rose to his feet, crossed to the office door and closed it, and returned to his own chair. “And you know you can call me Chief, don’t you?” he continued. “Or Perry. ’Mr. White’ makes me feel like I ought to be looking over my shoulder for my father.” He smiled at her and leaned back in the chair, giving the impression of laid-back ease.
But she knew he was anything but lazy. Mr. White – Perry – was a sharp old news-hound who missed very little that went on around him. The slow drawl and easy manner had probably netted him more information from interviewees – both willing and unwilling - over the years than anyone imagined.
Sobering, he looked at her for a moment, then said, “I read your emails last night. I’m not sure if I should start by explaining – *again* – that you are an *intern*. We don’t send interns on stakeouts.” He straightened up and fixed her with a stern eye. “Not to mention the potential liability involved in something that could potentially be dangerous, there’s the whole issue of the fact that interns are *students*, not seasoned reporters.”
He ran his hand through his hair, dislodging the pencil he’d tucked behind his ear, and smiled at her again. “Aw, hell, never mind. You’re like I was at your age – you’ve got a rare talent and you’re *not* just another intern. We both know you’re gonna do things your way. Just – try to be careful, Lois. And I want to know what you’re planning if – when - you sniff out another story that involves extra-office activity, you hear?” he told her sternly. He didn’t give her time to respond, but continued in a more serious tone of voice.
“I also read your rough draft story.” He looked at her sharply, but she said nothing, waiting instead to see what else he had to say. “While I was somewhat surprised to see a rough draft appear in my correspondence in the middle of the night, I had a few… suspicions as to why you would suddenly submit an unfinished story to me.” At her start of surprise, he smiled again, but this time it was more of a grimace than a true smile. “Yes, Lois, I think you know what I’m about to say,” he said. “But you know, I didn’t become editor of the world’s best newspaper because I can yodel.”
Picking up a sheet of paper in front of him, he looked at her for a moment, then said, “You know that Claude Rochert presented me with an extremely well-written story first thing this morning?”
“Mr. White – Chief,” she started, but Perry continued before she could say anything more.
“It was a story I recognized, Lois,” he said. “Written in a style I recognized. Not only because it said – almost word for word – what the story by Lois Lane I found in my submissions drop box this morning said, but because Claude doesn’t… shall we say, *usually*? – write in quite that style.” Holding up his hand to forestall her as she opened her mouth, he continued, “I commented on the different style. Thought I’d give the man a fair chance to let me know all about how you’d partnered up with him for this story that I’d assigned to *you*.”
“Perry,” she began, totally forgetting to call him either Mr. White or Chief.
“Now, darlin’, I *know* that was your story. *Yours*. I know you didn’t team up with Claude, Lois. That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it?” Perry asked her gruffly.
“Yes,” she said simply.
Perry leaned back in his chair. “You know, I’ve had my suspicions over the past year or two,” he mused, swiveling his chair slightly back and forth as he gazed at her. “But I could never pin anything on the man. I think he did this to another intern, you know – although I don’t have any proof. His story – pretty believable - was that she’d developed a crush on him, and that *she* tried to steal *his* story. And she wouldn’t talk. She left the Planet in the middle of her internship, though. Ended up at the Metropolis Star after she graduated.”
He leveled his gaze on her. “Claude Rochert presented your information, your story, as his own work, Lois. When I confronted him, he had a lot of unpleasant things to say. Suffice to say I don’t believe any of it, and because you managed to prove beyond any doubt that you have a prior claim to the work in question, he has been suspended without pay. However, you will probably have to face him at an inquiry meeting, which I’m afraid is necessary in a situation like this. Can you do that?”
She looked him straight in the eye. “Yes, I can,” she stated, and relaxed at his smile.
“Good girl,” he said softly, clearly not expecting her to hear him. Strangely, that comment and his earlier use of ‘darlin’ didn’t upset her. It was simply Perry’s southern upbringing, and she knew it was unintentional and not intended as any sort of condescension or harassment. Her mind flashed briefly back to her childhood years, contrasting Sam’s reserved manner with this man’s natural, if blustery, warmth.
---
After a few comments related specifically to her story, Perry told her he had sent it on to layout. It hadn’t made the front page of the paper, but he was placing it on the front page of the city section.
“Good work, Lois,” he’d told her, and after a reminder that he would keep her updated on the progress of the upper management’s inquiry, he dismissed her back to her desk. An independent team would now go back through Claude’s entire submission file, looking carefully at writing styles and matching handwriting samples to any handwritten notes or rough drafts. Anything questionable would be set aside for further study. Perry had also mentioned that in accordance with ASNE policy, the situation would be reported to the Kerth Award committee. The committee would conduct its own inquiry; if Claude’s winning story turned out to be someone else’s work, his Kerth would be revoked.
For her part, Lois intended to try to track down any former partners Claude had worked with, as well as the intern Perry had mentioned. If Claude had done this before, his victim – or victims - deserved a chance for justice.
First stop, then - the personnel department, for the name of last year’s intern. And any partners Claude may have had – although, on reflection, perhaps the best source for names would be Perry.
Then she’d take a quick look through some of Claude’s work. The Daily Planet’s morgue – its reference library – wouldn’t help her there, but the stacks - located one floor above the newsroom – should have every article he’d ever written for the Planet. A little judicious use of her enhanced speed would allow her to get an overall picture of his writing style – and any discrepancies – in a very short period of time.
---
The morgue had outgrown its original space in the Daily Planet building’s basement and had been relocated to the same floor as the stacks a few years ago. It had been laid out like a small but conventional library, down a short hallway from the elevators.
The stacks themselves, directly across from the elevators, were more crowded, although the entire area had been modernized somewhat. Like the newsroom, there was a second level – a loft - along one wall. Shelves of bound issues – the more current ones - were arranged in rows on both levels, with a few desks and tables, bearing computer terminals, interspersed throughout. There were also two microfiche machines for viewing the older issues, and a cabinet containing decades of microfiche archives.
There was an ongoing project to computerize the entire archive, but with a newspaper of the Daily Planet’s caliber, the project would take several years. The Planet’s computer system made it easy to find articles in past issues, allowing searching by author, subject, title, and date of publication, which eliminated the need for attendants in the stacks or the morgue. Once all of the issues were computerized, there would be little need for the actual paper issues. Many newspapers around the country were getting away from the physical storage of old issues.
Lois had climbed the stairs to the loft and was sitting at one of the desks toward the back, looking through some bound copies of the paper from the previous April, when she heard the elevator doors open. She listened for a moment – it wouldn’t do for someone to see her doing her version of speed-reading. Whoever it was headed toward the morgue, so she went back to the article in front of her.
Several other people came and went as she worked her way backward through increasingly older issues. The stacks were rarely used, so she wasn’t too concerned that anyone would see her decidedly unusual abilities. The morgue was a more common destination, especially for the researchers and students.
By the time she’d moved to the microfiche files, traffic to and from the morgue had slowed down considerably.
Since it was lunchtime, she probably had the floor to herself. As she finished re-filing an envelope of microfiche film, having already selected a new one, she heard someone climbing the stairs to the loft. Probably someone with a message that Perry wanted her. He’d agreed to gather a list of names of reporters he’d partnered Claude with over the years, and he’d given her the green light to look through the stacks. But he had warned her that he’d probably have another story assignment for her in the afternoon. She hadn’t heard the elevator – it was probably one of the young men from research or one of the younger reporters whose world outside of the Planet revolved around physical fitness, sports, or bodybuilding. Several of them ran stairs during their lunch breaks.
Funny that whoever it was hadn’t called her name in order to locate her more quickly, though.
She sat down and gathered up the new set of microfiche films from the table. Time to put them away, too. She’d managed to go through quite a few of Claude’s articles already, anyway – enough to note his general style of writing, and to note that sometimes it seemed to… change. Once she got her afternoon assignment, she’d ask Perry for his list of names.
As the man – the tread was too heavy to be a woman – rounded the corner of the shelves to where she was sitting, she finished tucking the films into their envelope and looked up with a smile.
It was Claude.
And it was obvious that he was extremely angry.
Beyond angry.
She stood and moved back from the table, keeping it between them. Without really thinking about it, she dropped her hand to her pocket and hit the switch on the little recorder.
As he advanced on her, he hissed, “You set me up, you little bi-.” He abruptly switched to French, apparently finding it easier to curse at her in his native language.
“You’d better watch what you say, Claude,” she said, hiding her nervousness behind a belligerent tone of voice. “You’re already on some pretty shaky ground, you know.”
She’d been expecting something – some reaction from him after her meeting with Perry – but this was still completely unexpected. She’d thought she might get an angry phone call from him, or that she might encounter him outside the Planet. That he might somehow show up at her apartment or something.
After Perry’s announcement of Claude’s suspension, she hadn’t expected to see him inside the Planet at all. And she hadn’t even considered that he might try anything in the middle of the day. But he certainly didn’t look like he wanted to have a cozy chat.
He came around the end of the table, and she had to decide quickly – stand her ground? *She* was in the right, after all. Or back up? Her feet took her backwards even as the thought flashed through her mind.
Lois wasn’t afraid of Claude – she knew he couldn’t hurt her physically. But she’d never been in a close and heated confrontation with another person. Never had anyone hissing invective – a continuous stream of vile French hate words - at her with such venom.
She wasn’t afraid of him, but she wasn’t feeling very calm. For the first time in her life, she understood exactly why that surge of adrenaline was called a ‘fight or flight’ reaction.
The Lanes had handled almost everything – even most of their fights – with reserve. Freezing politeness, icy distain, and cold silences – those she knew. As she’d grown older, there’d been more raised voices and insults, but even those had usually been conducted at a level no more intense than a heated political debate. This – she suspected it could get pretty ugly.
He’d stopped at the chair she’d been sitting in, and was gripping its back so tightly his knuckles were white. She wasn’t completely sure he wouldn’t pick it up and throw it at her.
“You took my story.” She decided direct confrontation was her best option. “You’re getting what you deserve. You *stole* it from me, Claude. If anyone, *I* should be the angry one.”
He laughed nastily. “I don’t know how you found out about it ahead of time, but you did, and you set me up.” He broke off to curse at her again, stepping forward around the chair, and she decided she’d had enough.
Moving around the end of the table with the idea of putting it between them again, she was unprepared for his lunge. He grabbed her arms just above her elbows, his momentum knocking her backward against the nearest shelves.
Reflexively she yanked away from him, smacking her head against the edge of a shelf. If she hadn’t been invulnerable, she’d have been seeing stars and the battle would have been over. As it was, she yanked again and twisted sideways, breaking his hold. She ran for the stairs, only her lifelong habit of hiding her unique abilities keeping her at a human pace.
And this was something she hadn’t considered at all – how could she fight him off without giving her secret away?
Claude caught her again at the stairs, slamming her into the railing with the full force of his weight behind him. As she twisted again, trying to break his grip, he grabbed a handful of her hair at the base of her neck. Yanking her head back viciously, he pulled back from the railing and shook her violently, his other hand wrapped around her upper arm.
“I got suspended because of you, you little –“ he snarled, dropping back into French.
“Claude –“ she began, grasping his wrists, but he cut her off.
“I may even lose my job! You are worth nothing, do you hear?” he raged. “You should be grateful for my help, p****n! And always you ignore me, put me off!”
How hard to pull? How much force to break his grip, without giving anything away? The brief pause as she tried to temper her strength was enough for him to undercut her, sweeping her legs from under her and following her down.
“Now I will take what you have – “ he grunted, beginning to paw at her skirt, which had become twisted around her thighs. “I’m going to take what I want, and we’ll see how I break your icy cold attitude – when I’m done with you your reputation will be nothing, c******!” Lois had no idea what the French word he spit at her meant, but his tone was filled with hate.
Regardless of her invulnerability, and of her strength and speed, Lois was beginning to realize that she was quite possibly in real danger. She had no idea how to defend herself from this madman without exposing her secret, but she might not have a choice.
She twisted and almost managed to dislodge him without any use of her abilities, but he flung himself further across her, then grabbed her breast with his other hand as he pushed her skirt to her hips. The shock of his hand on her breast, where no one’s hand had ever been, shocked her motionless for a fraction of a second, and he tightened his grip there, twisting viciously. Simultaneously, she felt his other hand on her upper thigh, pushing her legs apart enough to settle between them, then fumbling at his own clothing.
Truly frightened, Lois flexed her arms, about to throw him off her without any further thought to protecting her secret. But even as she straightened her arms, his weight was suddenly gone from her.
Bewildered, she looked up to see Perry, looking ready to kill, and Eduardo, one of the sports reporters. He had plucked Claude off of her by the back of his shirt, and as Claude rounded on him, Eduardo – one of the lunchtime stair runners and a body builder – drew his fist back and slugged Claude squarely in the jaw.
As Claude slumped in Eduardo’s grip, Lois finished tugging her skirt down over her thighs and scrambled to her feet, assisted by Perry.
“Are you all right?” he asked her. “What did he… Did he hurt you, Lois?”
“No, Perry,” she assured him, “but I’m awfully glad you’re here.” She *was* glad to see him – them – but neither man needed to know that it was mostly because her secret was still, in fact, a secret.
How ironic that with all her fantastic abilities, it was Perry – and Eduardo – who ended up saving her.
“Eduardo, here, was just leaving the stairwell after his lunch break,” Perry continued. “You know he runs stairs?” And at her nod, “He saw Claude coming up the stairs, looking like thunder. Thanks to one of the receptionists, word of Claude’s suspension – and why - has already spread through the newsroom. So Eduardo asked me where you were, and we hightailed it up here just in case you needed us.”
Perry paused, an arrested look on his face. “Come to think of it, exactly *how* did Claude know you’d be in the stacks, Lois?” He scowled. “I think I’m gonna have to have a talk with Ralph –“
At Lois’s start of surprise, he nodded and continued, “I’ve had my eye on him for awhile now. There’ve been some complaints from a few women about inappropriate comments, and I’ve noticed him and Claude havin’ some cozy chats lately… I wouldn’t be too surprised if Ralph told him where you were.”
Lois turned to Eduardo, who had allowed Claude to slump to the floor. “Thank you, Eduardo,” she told him sincerely. “The words seem inadequate –“
“It’s okay, Lois,” Eduardo responded with a smile. “And you’re welcome. I have very little tolerance for men who don’t respect women. Not many people see it, but Claude – obviously – has a temper. I wasn’t expecting him to attack you, but I did suspect he might get a bit too confrontational for comfort. I’m just glad I could help.”
He looked at Perry. “What do we do with him, Chief? I know you asked Glenda to call Bill Henderson as we passed her desk; do we wait for the police or take him downstairs with us?”
“You called the police?” Lois asked, surprised.
“We’ll wait here,” Perry replied. Turning to Lois, he continued, “Bill Henderson’s a captain with the MPD, Lois, and a good man. He’s a friend of mine – our sons were in school together. I’ve known him a long time and he knows how to be discreet.”
He looked down at Claude with disgust. “When Eduardo told me he’d seen Claude headin’ upstairs, I had a little hunch we might need some official help,” he continued. “I told her to send Bill up here when he arrives. He oughta be here soon.”
Perry’s ‘little hunches’ were legend in the newsroom; more often than not, they’d turned out to be true. If he sent a reporter out to investigate something because he ‘had a hunch’ about it, the Planet usually ended up with good story.
Turning to Lois, he asked, “You will press charges, honey, won’t you?”
“Yes, Perry,” she told him soberly. “I have to. Otherwise –“
“He might do it again,” Perry finished as Eduardo nodded in agreement. He turned as a male voice called his name. “Up here, Bill,” he called. “Straight ahead from the elevator, through the shelves. We’re at the top of the stairs.
Captain Bill Henderson, an attractive man in his mid-forties, was accompanied by a young plainclothes officer. Between them, they removed a still-groggy Claude from the scene after taking brief statements from Perry, Lois, and Eduardo. Captain Henderson warned Perry and Lois that he’d probably need a more thorough statement from her, and that he would be in touch.
“C’mon, Lois, Eduardo,” Perry said as the policemen shepherded their stumbling charge into the elevator, “We’ll take the stairs.”
As they reached the landing outside the newsroom, Eduardo stopped and turned to Perry and Lois. “You don’t have to worry about my saying anything out of turn,” he assured them.
“I know that, son,” Perry replied, as Lois nodded her agreement. “But I appreciate your saying it. This doesn’t need to turn into a circus. As it is, the gossips’ll have a field day.”
“Thanks again, Eduardo,” Lois said. “I –“ she stopped. “Thanks to you and Perry –“
“You’re welcome, Lois,” Eduardo told her seriously. “Claude tried to hit on my wife about a year ago – she’s an interior designer and her firm did the business offices upstairs when they were remodeled – and he was hard to discourage despite her telling him she was married. He eventually got the message, but I’ve always wondered if he’d try something with someone else. I’m glad you’re okay.”
He pulled the stairway door open and the three of them entered the newsroom. Eduardo headed toward his desk while Perry directed Lois to his office.
He gestured toward one of the chairs in front of his desk as he rounded the edge of it and dropped into his own chair with a sigh.
As she sat down, he ran his hand through his hair and repeated, “I’m glad you’re okay, Lois.”
With another sigh, he continued, “You know, any complaint is one complaint too many. I told you earlier about a young intern – a bit like you, smart, a lot of promise – a few years ago. Linda King. There was an issue with a story and it involved Claude. It was kinda messy – they had a short relationship, apparently, and Claude’s take on it was that she’d developed a crush on him and carried it too far. Her story was different. But I was never able to get any solid proof of what had happened, and before I could follow up with a formal investigation of her complaint, she recanted her story. Quit the Planet in the middle of her internship.”
He shook his head ruefully. “I hear she’s working for the Star now – it’s a respectable newspaper but not on a par with the Daily Planet. I’ve always wondered what really happened there, but she wouldn’t talk. So the most Claude got was a warning be more careful to avoid any misunderstandings in the future.”
He leveled his gaze on her. “I would never say I’m glad this happened, but I *will* say I’m glad you will pursue legal punishment for him. This whole thing might be somewhat messy, Lois. We’ll try to keep it low-key here, but it may be kinda tough for a while. I know you’d rather report the news than *be* the news, and you’ve got my support a hundred percent. If anyone hassles you over this, you let me know, you hear?”
At her nod, he said, “And Ralph… that boy’s gonna be taking a Planet-sponsored intensive course in sensitivity training, and I’m gonna be keeping a sharp eye on him. Fortunately, he’s not another Claude, just stupid. We can fix that. I hope. If not, his future with the Planet is likely to be quite short.”
“I’ll be fine, Perry,” she assured him with a smile. “It’s like fighting dragons, you know – not real pleasant but it has to be done. This is no different than exposing any other wrongdoing – just, it’s my story, okay?” she asked him with a cheeky grin.
He laughed. “Atta girl, Lois – but you come to me if anybody gives you trouble, young lady.” And with a cheeky grin of his own, he continued, “Now… seems to me you never got that afternoon assignment I had for you…”
---
To be continued
