Things are coming along again, I think. Hopefully. As long as my muse doesn't get distracted again.
From part 25:
“True.” He laughed, tucking her hand into his arm. “Anyway, enough about the guy in the cape. C’mon… How about some pizza and a video?” He leaned over and whispered, “I’ll buy. I know this great place in Seattle…”
She bumped him with her hip. “Sounds good. Now all we have to decide is, your place, or mine?”
“Don’t forget about the video,” he reminded her. “We still have to decide about that, too…” <Are we flying, or driving?>
<I’d rather fly, but I drove in this morning.> “Ah, yes… now, what sounds good tonight? A musical? A romantic comedy? An action flick? Or how about…”
Still discussing the merits of various movies, they headed for the elevators.-----
The Girl Next Door, part 26:
Once again, Clark was missing when she arrived in the morning. Hopefully, he’d be back in time for the morning meeting, though. This time, it was she who would be saving a seat for him.
She chose a donut for him, too, and after some hesitation, got his coffee mug from his desk. He was always bringing her coffee; now she could do the same for him. She was pretty sure she remembered how he took it…
But what if she messed it up? Knowing Clark, he’d drink it and tell her it was fine, no matter what she did to it.
She looked over the offerings. There was sugar, artificial creamer in packets, sugar substitute, and some of the little containers of real cream. She did know that Clark didn’t use the artificial stuff. She just didn’t know how much of each he used.
As she hesitated at the coffee machine, one of the staff columnists stopped to pour himself a cup. As he did so, the columnist who sat at the desk next to him called out, “Hey, Mark – can you get me a cup, too?”
“Yeah. Whatta ya want in it?” Mark called back.
“Two artificial creamers,” the man replied.
Mark poured coffee into two disposable styrofoam cups and grabbed a couple of the creamer packets. He didn’t add them to the coffee, though. He grabbed a stir stick and headed for the conference room, stopping at the other man’s desk on the way and handing him one of the cups, the stick, and the packets.
Relieved, Lois realized she could do the same thing. She could bring Clark some of each, sugar and cream, and he could add as much as he wanted. Carefully, she poured a cup full of coffee for him and one for herself. She added her usual extras to her cup, then grabbed a couple of containers of cream, a few packets of sugar, and a stir stick, and juggling everything, headed for the conference room.
A few minutes before Perry entered the room, Clark slipped in and dropped into the chair next to her. He leaned toward her, and for a startled moment she thought he was going to greet her with a kiss. He seemed to check himself, though – or maybe the whole thing was just her imagination.
They still hadn’t discussed that… whether their relationship outside of work was to remain a secret or not. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it, anyway. She already knew how it felt to be the subject of gossip, and she didn’t like it; besides, part of her wanted to just… hug their relationship to herself for a while. To keep the rest of the world out.
Well, she didn’t have time to deal with that right now.
“Hi, Clark,” she whispered as Perry entered, already talking as he moved to the end of the room and the chair left vacant for him. “I got you some coffee, but I wasn’t sure how much of the cream and sugar… Well, so I brought some of those, too. I thought you could add your own…”
He was smiling that sweet smile at her again, and she surreptitiously wrapped one ankle around her chair leg. No floating allowed.
“Thank you, honey,” he whispered into her ear, giving her shivers. “And this is perfect. Sometimes I add more, sometimes less, depending on how big the cup is – and how strong the coffee is,” he added with a chuckle. She shivered again, barely registering his words.
“Lois! Clark! What have you got for me?” Perry demanded, and she dragged her attention back to the meeting.
As Clark doctored his coffee, she briefly sketched the incident at the airport, pitching it as a possible maintenance problem for now. It would save questions from curious coworkers, and she preferred to keep their – hers and Clark’s –suspicions under wraps, anyway.
Clark chimed in with an equally brief outline of the accident with the window washers, again making it sound like they were simply going to investigate possible safety violations in the company that held the contract for washing windows for the city’s tall buildings. The story of the accident itself, of course, belonged to Jenner and Peters, two of the City Desk reporters. But as investigative reporters, Lois and Clark often started with news reported by other Daily Planet staff, delving past the factual account of what had happened, into the why or how – or both – that it had happened.
Once the meeting was over, Lois and Clark headed back to their desks to go through the preliminary information Jimmy had found them on the commuter plane passenger list.
And when he stopped at their desks with information on the plane’s flight crew, Lois was ready for him with another list.
“Jimmy!” she started briskly, “I’ve got some more information we need, okay? Whatever you can find – although right now, you only need to look in the legal places for information, okay?’
“Lois! Shhh!” Jimmy hissed, glancing around anxiously. “Don’t *say* things like that! What if someone hears you?”
She could feel Clark’s laughter, although he was sitting across from her with a perfectly straight face.
<Lois, you brat. You’re gonna give Jimmy an ulcer.> He rose and came around to her desk, perching on the edge and facing her and Jimmy.
She choked on the coffee she’d just sipped, trying not to laugh. Clark leaned down slightly and thumped her gently on the back until she stopped coughing. <Are you okay? Although it serves you right for teasing the poor kid.>
She looked back at Jimmy with as innocent a look as she could manage. He was fidgeting nervously, still glancing around anxiously as if he expected to be put into handcuffs and led off to who-knew-where immediately.
<Sorry. I couldn’t resist.> She grinned unrepentantly at Clark, then turned back to Jimmy. “Don’t worry, Jimmy. You’re a protected source, remember?”
“Oh. Okay…” He hesitated, not completely convinced. “But what if…”
She kept going. However nervous he might be about anyone finding out how he got some of his information, he was an investigator to the core. As soon as she gave him all of her lists, she knew he’d forget all about being anxious, as he succumbed to the lure of hunting information.
“Here’s what we need, okay? Whenever you can manage it, as long as it’s today…”
<Lois! Ulcer, remember?>
“…Or tomorrow’s okay, I guess,” she continued without further pause. <Hush, Clark.>
She handed Jimmy one of her lists, then stuck her tongue out at Clark when Jimmy, distracted, looked it over. Clark crossed his arms and grinned at her, then settled back further onto her desk, crossing his legs at the ankles, and regarded her with an amused, one-eyebrow-up look. He wore the air of someone getting ready to watch a show.
“We need to know about those two guys, the window washers, from yesterday’s accident. Who are they, where do they live, what’s their company name, how long have they worked there, and do they have any criminal records? Do they have families? Hobbies? We also need to know about the company they work for. How long has it been in business? Who owns it? Who’s on the board of directors – if there is one? Who are the stockholders? How’s the company doing? Is it failing or doing well? How many clients does it have, and who are they?”
She handed him another list. “I also want to know what tenants are in the Baxter Building – that’s where the accident happened. Who works there, and for whom? Who’s responsible for building maintenance, and does it include the thingy on the roof where they attach the window-washing platform?”
At this point, Jimmy was beginning to look both excited by the idea of such an involved hunt and boggled by the sheer amount of information she was asking for. She didn’t know why he’d be boggled; for goodness sake, she gave him lists like this all the time.
<Give him another list, honey. Hair of the dog, you know.>
<Yeah, yeah. Cute, Kent. Hair of the Mad Dog Lane, are you trying to say?>
She handed the third list to Jimmy.
A wave of amusement, affection, warmth, and love rolled over her like a tidal wave, knocking her back slightly in her chair, and completely obliterating what she’d been planning to say. <I want to kiss you.> The thought was hushed and intense, exactly as if he’d whispered it aloud. <So, so badly.>
She stared at him, unable to speak. <Clark…> It was a plea. And it was filled to overflowing with love and longing, a plea echoing his. <*Yes*> She doubted she could stand up at the moment, and she’d lost every coherent train of thought - and so the plea was also seasoned with the jumble her thoughts had become.
“Uh…” she managed to begin. “And…” She closed her eyes, struggling to get a grip on her thoughts.
Jimmy, oblivious, read on.
<Clark.> She kept her eyes closed. <I can’t…>
He leaned forward slightly and took her hand. Her eyes shot open at his touch, and he smiled gently at her. <I’m sorry, Lois. That wasn’t very fair of me. But you are just so appealing.> He squeezed her hand gently, then let go and turned to Jimmy.
“We’ll need more information on that airplane’s passengers, too, Jim. Can you find out if any of them are on more than one board of directors, or holds stock in any of the other companies represented by the people on that plane? Anybody holding any grudges against someone on that plane, or against some business represented by someone on that plane? And does anyone on the plane’s passenger list have any ties to the Baxter building, any of its employees, or the window washing company?”
Jimmy glanced up, even more intrigued. “You guys think the two things are related?” he asked in surprise. “Why?”
“No… No, nothing concrete,” Clark told him. “We’re just being thorough, Jim.”
She found her voice – and her thoughts – again. “Yeah. We need criminal background checks on everyone on that plane, and on anybody who is connected to any of those passengers through business. And we need to know exactly what the official job description is, if you find that someone from the plane has any kind of close tie – business partners, whatever – to anyone connected to the Baxter Building or that window washing company. And –“
Abruptly, the sound of sirens – more than one – caught her attention. She knew Clark was listening, too. She glanced at him; he might be hearing more than she was…
<<Bomb situation>> she heard a male voice say before it faded out again.
She rose to her feet an instant before Clark was on his.
“Oh! C’mon, Clark.” She spoke briskly. “Later, Jimmy.” She strode toward the ramp without bothering to say anything else. She knew Clark was right behind her.
“Where’re you going?’ Jimmy called.
“I’ve got a hunch,” she tossed over her shoulder without stopping. “Get us that stuff, okay?” She reached the ramp and charged up it.
People left her alone when she was in Mad Dog mode. There would be no obstacles to hinder her leaving the newsroom. No comments, no questions. Most of the Daily Planet staff knew to stay out of her way when she was like this, and the few who didn’t would get a hurried explanation once she was safely out of the way.
She stepped through the stairwell door, moving forward on the landing to accommodate Clark, and then together, they headed for the roof.
As they stepped through the door, he smiled admiringly at her. “Nice.” He spun quickly into the suit before continuing. “Very smooth. It makes a nice change from ‘meeting a source’.”
She shrugged, grinning. “Hey, ya gotta vary it sometimes. But anyway, go. I’ll follow. I’ll get the story while you fix whatever it is. Maybe it’s another false alarm.”
He leaned forward and snatched a quick kiss, then sprang into the air and was gone.
---
Lois was one of the first reporters at the site. Greatly daring, she had chosen to fly again, flashing up into the patchy cloud layer as fast as she could, then traveling toward the sound of the sirens before dropping just as quickly onto the deserted and shady colonnaded balcony of the old City Building, just across the street from whatever was going on. Stepping quietly out from behind one of the columns, she calmly made her way to street level.
Seeing Bill Henderson, she ducked under the yellow police tape, ignoring the indignant “Hey, lady!” of a young policeman who had obviously been assigned to guard the line against all comers.
“Press!” she snapped at him, not pausing to see how he received the information, and made a beeline for the detective.
“Hi, Bill. What’s up?”
The detective glanced at her. “Lane. Who let you through?”
“Somebody’s little brother,” she said cheekily. “C’mon, Bill, I know you’re happy to see me, really.”
He gave her a sardonic look, the closest he usually ever came to a smile. If she hadn’t seen evidence to the contrary personally, during the Lex Luthor investigation, she’d have been convinced the man was genetically unable to smile.
“Yeah? Well, I’m particularly glad to see our caped friend,” Bill said, nodding toward the building in front of them.
Just as he finished speaking, there was a swell of noise from what she realized, upon glancing around, was a growing crowd of onlookers. She looked back at the building to see Superman exiting through the front doors, holding something in his hands.
As the city’s bomb squad moved forward toward him, he held up one hand, shaking his head.
She heard him easily from where she stood, as he spoke to the leader of the bomb squad.
“It’s on a timer and has less than five minutes left – I need to get it away from all these people. The building looks clear from what I can tell, although I was mostly focused on this. If you want to wait until I return…”
When the bomb squad leader looked at Bill Henderson, standing beside her, Lois glanced at him, too, and saw him nod. The bomb squad leader gave his men orders to stand back.
Without further comment, Superman shot into the air, almost too fast to be seen. Lois, of course, could see him easily, and she watched as he shot straight up, moving fast, apparently aiming for the earth’s upper atmosphere. Or more likely, come to think of it, *past* the earth’s atmosphere and into space beyond it.
She took a couple of steps forward, toward the building, curious. Clark had obviously not had time to poke around for clues; now might be a good time to –
“Lane!” Bill Henderson growled as he clamped a hand on her arm. “Even the press isn’t allowed to go into an unsecured bomb scene, even if the bomb has apparently been removed.”
Oops. She’d forgotten. She’d have to look from here.
“I wasn’t going to go inside, Bill,” she soothed him. “I just want to poke around outside a little…”
He looked unconvinced. “I let you past the line –“ He scowled at her when she raised an eyebrow at that. “Okay, I didn’t *object* when you *brazenly* disregarded the police line.” He raised his own eyebrow back at her. “How’s that, Lane? More accurate?”
She laughed.
“So stay right where you are,” he continued. “Remember, a good reporter is a live reporter.”
She laughed again. “I don’t think that’s really how that goes, Bill.”
“Stay put, Lane,” he growled again. “Where’s that partner of yours, anyway? I need somebody to keep an eye on you while I do official police stuff.”
She glanced around casually, adding a lightning-fast upward glance to check on Clark’s progress. “Oh, he’s on his way,” she said airily, barely suppressing a grin. He *was* on his way – as Superman. He wasn’t visible to the naked eye yet, but she could see he was headed back… He passed through the cloud cover.
Within seconds, Superman was landing lightly on the sidewalk near where Henderson and the bomb squad waited. She stayed where she was, at Henderson’s side, as the men spoke. Then Superman, accompanied by the bomb squad, reentered the building.
She watched with interest through the walls – and listened - as they systematically worked their way through the lobby. The squad leader gave orders for his men to branch out, although he asked Superman to give the areas a preliminary look before his men got close. That made sense. Might as well use the talent you had, and if that talent included a bomb-proof man, might as well make him the point man.
Henderson was listening, too – although he was limited by the abilities of the radios that he and the bomb squad were using.
In addition to watching the squad work, Lois was conducting her own investigation. It was harder to do it this way; she preferred the hands-on method. But she looked around, zeroing in on floors and corners and surfaces, scanning walls and through walls. She saw nothing obvious, but she felt compelled to look. The idea of *not* looking, when she could look so easily, was like… leaving the box with the last chocolate donut in it on the edge of her desk, and expecting her not to touch it, or… or leaving incriminating evidence in a folder marked TOP SECRET in plain sight on a file cabinet, and expecting her not to read it while she was casing an office.
Finally, the members of the bomb squad began exiting the building, followed by Superman. As they began packing up their containment equipment, Superman approached Bill Henderson.
The two men conferred for a few minutes, then shook hands. Superman stepped back, ready to leave, and she spoke up quickly.
“May I ask a few questions, Superman?’
He inclined his head slightly, answering her gravely. “Certainly, Ms. Lane.”
They moved slightly away from Henderson, who had turned to speak to the bomb squad leader.
“Did you find anything that might shed light on this?” she asked.
He hesitated.
“Is there something, Superman?” she asked.
“The building has a rather odd security setup. It might bear investigating.”
She glanced at the various police officers moving around. It was probably time to have Clark show up; she’d have a lot more freedom in discussing things with him than she would with Superman. She didn’t want anyone to see Lois Lane bouncing ideas off Superman the way she did off Clark.
“Thank you, Superman.” She spoke formally.
“You’re welcome, Ms. Lane.” He spoke equally formally but she was close enough to see the faint gleam of amusement in his eyes.
Then he was rising into the air. Several policemen paused in what they were doing to watch Superman rise and fly swiftly away.
Lois immediately began looking around, trying to project a ‘waiting for my partner’ sort of attitude. And as if on cue, here he came, jogging around the corner of the building with a grin on his face.
“Hi, Lois. I’ve been talking to witnesses. What’ve you got?” he asked cheerfully.
“Hi, Clark,” she said with an answering smile. “I was just talking to Superman.” She hooked her arm through his. “C’mon, partner. Let’s go compare notes.”
“Hold on there, Lane.” Bill Henderson approached them. “Kent. Where’ve you been?”
“Hi, Bill. Around the other side, poking around. Why?”
Bill snorted. “Because someone needs to keep Lane here in line. But now I hear you’re just as bad. You’d better not have been inside that building, buddy.”
“Bill, Clark wasn’t inside the building,” Lois said reassuringly. It was true. *Clark* hadn’t been in the building at all. *Superman* had. A fine distinction, but nobody else needed to know that.
Henderson regarded them both skeptically. “I believe you. But only because it makes my life easier. And I know neither of you would consider holding out on me if you find out anything that could help, here. Right?”
“We only have suppositions, Bill,” Clark said. “The same as you – disgruntled employee, some kind of scam… we’ll look into it, see what we can find out.”
“You’ll investigate, we’ll investigate,” Lois chimed in. “We don’t print speculation, but if we find anything concrete, you’ll be the first to know, Bill.” She glanced at Clark, grinning, before she turned back to Henderson and continued with a smile, “…Right after Clark and me. And Perry, of course.”
Henderson snorted. “Nice to know my ranking, Lane.” With that same I’m-not-really-smiling-at-you look, he turned back to his men, shaking his head.
“Bye, Bill,” she said irrepressibly, and he flapped a hand back at her in a gesture that could have been either a wave or a go-away-kid-you’re-bugging-me sort of thing.
She laughed, turning back to Clark. He was smiling, too.
“You, Ms. Lane, turn prevarication into an art form,” he said softly. “Telling him I wasn’t in the building...”
She grinned at him. “*You* weren’t, Clark.” She assumed an air of innocence. “I was telling the truth.”
He laughed softly. “Just not all of it, you minx. Have I told you recently how much I love you?”
She tucked her arm in his. “I don’t mind hearing it again.”
As they moved away from the men still working around the building, she said, “Now… You said something about the building’s security setup?”
He nodded, serious again. “Yes. It was… odd, Lois.”
“Odd? In what way?”
He lowered his voice. “Way more cameras that you’d think they’d need, for one thing. I don’t know why, unless that building houses something way more important than professional and medical offices.”
“Do you think it’s some sort of scam? Insurance?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” He hesitated again. “I can’t see how… but we should talk to the building’s owner, I guess. Find out who the security company is. If there is one. Have ‘em explain the setup…”
“Do you think there’s something going on here?” she asked. “Something someone wants to keep hidden?” She frowned. “The thing is, Clark… I didn’t see anything. Did you?”
He shook his head. “No. That’s just it. I looked pretty thoroughly –“ He adjusted his glasses very slightly. “…And I didn’t see anything suspicious. It looks just like any other building.”
She nodded. “That’s what I saw.” She paused, thinking that over for a moment. “Um, didn’t see.” She swatted at him when he started to chuckle. “You know what I mean, Clark!”
He laughed. “C’mon, Lois. Let’s go write this up. We can –“ He stopped abruptly as they both heard a distant cry.
“Help, Superman!”
He shook his head wryly. “It’s going to be one of those days, I guess.” He listened for a moment. “Can you hear it?”
She nodded. “Sounds like a mugging.” She steered him in close to the building they were currently walking past even as he said, “There. That alley –“ As one, they ducked into the narrow space just past the end of the building.
They both scanned around them, making sure there were no observers. She continued scanning as Clark spun into the suit, and as he came out of the spin they both heard the cries escalate.
“I’ll meet you at the Planet,” she said hurriedly, and he nodded and was gone.
After another thorough look around, she, too, took to the air, moving upward fast and not stopping until she was above the cloud layer. The sky had been only sparsely populated with clouds earlier in the morning, making it harder to find cover. She preferred this more evenly clouded sky, as often happened in the later morning and early afternoon this close to the coast at this time of year.
Clark had assured her that she didn’t have to use the clouds for cover; if she stayed at a high enough altitude, he’s said, no one would be able to see her. She knew that, but… Still, it felt safer with a layer of clouds between her and the earth below. After all, what if some birdwatcher with a really good set of binoculars happened to be looking up as she flew by? Or what if some amateur astronomer with a telescope had it aimed wrong and saw her? Didn’t Clark worry about that kind of stuff?
Without really thinking about it, she found she had moved in the direction from which they’d heard the cries of the mugging victim. Looking down, she began to scan, looking for -
Yes, there he was. Clark had apprehended the mugger – none of that politically correct stuff for her; there was no sense saying the ‘alleged mugger’ if you caught the guy in the act – and was even now delivering him into the hands of two policemen who were also on the scene. They had probably been dispatched to the scene in response to the emergency call from one of the bystanders. She couldn’t tell which one of the people watching was the victim, though. Of course, he or she might have been transported to a hospital… Maybe.
She saw Clark’s sudden move as he reacted to something that she didn’t hear. He thrust the mugger into the policemen’s hands and in the next instant had disappeared. He’d moved too fast for her to follow, which was pretty impressive.
She strained her ears, but heard nothing.
How frustrating. The speed with which he’d left implied something important, unless he’d somehow heard or sensed her up here watching and was replaying the scene at the airport… She whirled around.
Nothing.
Okay, so there had been an emergency of some sort. She had no idea where he was; she’d have to go back to the Planet and discreetly listen for any news of an emergency of some sort, or any Superman sightings.
Turning, she headed back toward the Planet. Might as well go work on the bomb story. And maybe set Jimmy to finding out what he could about the security for the building with the bomb.
---
To be continued
