Home: Vendetta -- 5/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
"Well --" Brent produced a pin drive for a computer. "How about a complete list of their membership -- one that's not available to the public?"
Velma almost snatched it out of his hand. "Why didn't you say so? I've been trying to get hold of this for hours!"
"I've had it for about twenty minutes," Brent said. "It took a while to get it and it came from a very enterprising young woman who doesn't want her name, or the name of the person that helped her, to get out. She apparently had access to Lori's laptop and thought to look for Lori's files on the 'Mayflower' investigation." He shook his head. "Lori set up a method of getting into their records two years ago. I wish it had occurred to me to ask her about it, but I didn't know as much about her then as I do now. Besides the two who found it, no one knows about it but us." He lowered his voice. "I'd like to keep it that way. Gaia may have informants in the police department as well, since they've apparently been planning this for some time."
"I'm surprised you trusted me, then," Velma said dryly.
"Clark trusts you," Brent said. "That's all I need to know. You do realize, don't you, that you're part of a very select group."
"Oh?"
"Someone not in the family who knows the family secret. I believe that makes you one of four."
Velma wondered absently who the other three were but her attention was focused on the screen of her computer as the list of Gaia's Children's membership appeared.
**********
And now, Part 5:
Fred Harkin was bored. The vidscreen reports were full of the bombing of the Daily Planet and, now, the kidnapping of Lori Lyons. Pictures of her were flashed on the screen, along with the breathless commentary of the talking heads. The media were making a lot of Lyons's kidnapping, which was natural, he supposed, since she was one of their own. The thought made him a little uneasy and he pushed away that tiny prod of doubt. The backlash over the whole thing was already considerably more vociferous than he had anticipated, but no one was likely to connect it to him. He'd done what his brothers had asked him to do this morning, in the name of the Cause, and, in all truth, it had been satisfying. For two years he had wanted to get even with Lori Lyons.
At the time that she had come to work at the Daily Planet, he had been working there for three years and had received three pay raises, but he hadn't advanced beyond copy boy. His editor, John Olsen, hadn't been particularly impressed with his submissions and had told him that, if he wanted to actually write for the news service, he needed to take a few courses in the subject and learn to spell. Creative spelling simply wasn't the norm at a news service, and spelling and grammar checkers weren't perfect. He had better things to do with his time, in his position as managing editor, than correct ordinary spelling that should have been learned in grammar school. Besides, didn't Fred have a dictionary program available?
That had struck Fred as unfair. He'd passed his basic English course during his year at Metropolis City College, and managed to get onto the staff at the Daily Planet as a general gofer and copy boy. Sure, his dad had been a golfing buddy of Olsen's, until the unfortunate sleep walking incident where he had stepped off the ledge of a thirty-story building, and Olsen had been willing to give Fred a job on that basis, since his means of support was now gone. He'd expected to advance quickly but Olsen wouldn't give him a promotion to a reporter's status. He'd once assigned Fred an obituary column to write, but Fred had objected. Writing obituaries was demeaning, he'd complained, but Olsen didn't think so. He'd said that if Fred wanted to advance, he'd start at the bottom like everybody else. Evidently, his friendship with Fred's father hadn't been as deep as Fred had believed.
But then that Lyons woman had come to work at the Planet!
She'd begun as the office intern, and it was obvious from the first that Olsen liked her. It was the only reason that Fred could think of that she hadn't started out as a gofer, instead, and taken his place on the bottom rung. It had seemed only reasonable. All right; she had a four-year degree, but she had no more actual experience than Fred had had in the beginning. And then, before he knew it, she was working with Kent and riding his coattails to glory. In the interval of a few weeks from the time of her employment, she'd advanced to the status of Clark Kent's assistant and then, suddenly, she was off probation and had her name on a front page, headline story. Not only that, but it had been the story about his own organization, Gaia's Children, and their attempt to sabotage the "Mayflower".
He hadn't known why the leaders of his organization wanted him to watch her, but he'd done it anyway. Not only was it his duty, as a loyal citizen of Earth, but he just plain didn't like her. When she'd arrived in the office after having been attacked on the slidewalk, he'd been secretly pleased. But she and Kent had broken the story of the attempted sabotage, as well as the unauthorized possession by the leaders of Gaia's Children of top-secret government technology and all at once she was the Planet's new rising star. Other stories had followed it, and then she'd shown up married to Kent, which only confirmed his suspicions that Lyons wasn't above using personal favors as a means to ascend the ladder to success.
He hadn't been able to resist trying to give her a little of her own back, that day when she'd gone home, sick, by erasing the information that she'd told her computer to locate online, but she recreated her research when she'd come back to the office. She was evidently involved in some kind of investigation for a story, and so he'd gone back to erase her work again, and it turned out the little sneak had programmed her computer to trap him. It resulted in the termination of his job at the Daily Planet, and he'd been simmering with justified resentment and the desire to pay her back ever since. Grabbing her so that his organization could try her for her part in the exposure of Gaia's plans had seemed just and fair, but he hadn't been allowed to visit his personal justice on her. Still, maybe after they were finished with her he would be allowed to do so, before she was executed. That last part left him a little squeamish, and he hoped that he wouldn't be chosen for the task. It wasn't that the thought of her death bothered him. It was the fact that if the law found out that he'd had anything to do with it, the best he could hope for would be a life sentence to the lunar mines. Such a fate was worse than a death sentence. He didn't want anything to do with executing her. Maybe when the time came he could be conveniently absent.
"Fred," the Section Leader said from the doorway. "Ms. Lyons has requested something to eat. I'd like you to take the tray down to her."
"Why bother?" Fred asked. "Let her starve."
"We don't have time for your personal vendetta with Ms. Lyons," his superior said, reprovingly. "We don't mistreat prisoners. Ms. Lyons will be treated in a humane fashion until her trial and execution, and you would do well to remember that, Fred. We mustn't give the media or the justice system any legitimate reason to condemn our treatment of her. Take the tray down to her, but keep your hands off her. If there's a mark on her, the consequences won't be pretty; is that clear?"
"Yeah," Fred replied, a little sullenly, but he came to take the tray and followed his boss into the kitchen where he waited while the other man opened the sliding doors to the wooden stairs that descended into the bomb shelter. As he went carefully down the steps, balancing the tray, the doors closed behind him.
Lori Lyons was sitting forlornly on the cot, her hands resting on her rounded middle. She glanced at him as he set the tray on the floor, jostling the contents and nearly spilling the glass of water. "Here," he said. He laughed shortly. "Eat it. I guess everyone is entitled to a last meal."
"Then you better get yours," she said, not moving from her spot on the cot. "You're finished, Fred."
"I suppose that wimp you're married to is going to make me pay?" Fred taunted. "He couldn't fight his way out of a cream puff. Besides, we're going to get him next."
"You don't have any idea who you're talking about," she said, "But that wasn't what I meant. The police are looking for you, Fred. Somebody saw you kidnap me. They gave the police the license number of the car."
He turned to give her a hard stare. "You're lying, Lyons. I don't believe a word you say."
"It's the truth. Ask your friends upstairs," she said, disdainfully. "Or maybe you'd better not. It might keep you from getting away if they realize you know."
"What are you talking about?" Fred asked.
"Your 'friend' -- the guy that drove the car -- and another guy came down here a little while ago," Lori said. "They said the police were asking about you. They know you're the only person that can tie them to my kidnapping. The other guy -- not the guy that drove, but the other one -- said that would make damage control easy."
"Huh?" Fred felt the faintest stirring of uneasiness. Then he shook it off. Lyons was lying, of course. She'd say anything that would help her to escape.
Lori shrugged. "Not that I care, particularly, but I'd hate to see you get out of what Clark is going to do to you when he gets his hands on you," she said. "The guy said that you were going to have to be eliminated because he didn't trust you to keep your mouth shut if someone put enough pressure on you. You know; Gaia's Children isn't above murder. They were going to kill my brother, Brad, and they did kill the woman who tried to warn him about what they were going to do to the 'Mayflower'. Not to mention what they intended for the thousands of people aboard the ship, itself. And they're going to kill me. Think about it."
"You're lying," he said.
She shrugged. "You think so? Just hang around up there a little longer and you'll find out the hard way. But you always were an idiot, letting them use you the way you have."
He had taken three steps toward her, one hand lifted to strike her when he recalled the warning of his superior and stopped. Lori looked contemptuously at him. "Go ahead," she invited. "Hit me. You can add batterer to kidnapper and all the other stupid things you've done since we met."
Fred gritted his teeth. "Bitch," he said.
"A bitch, maybe," Lori said, "but not a fool, like you. You'll find out. Your so-called friends don't have any loyalty to you. You're nothing but a tool for them to use for their convenience and there are plenty of others where you came from. I'm betting you don't live out the day."
Fred turned his back and started to climb the stairs. "I'm not listening to anything you say."
"Fine with me," Lori said, indifferently. "Be a sucker to the end. At least you're staying in character."
Fred didn't dignify her parting shot with an answer, but ascended the stairs once more and knocked on the door. After a time it slid open and Fred exited into the kitchen. The doors closed behind him, sealing Lyons in once more.
His boss had turned away. "I trust you didn't lay hands on her, Fred," he said, mildly.
"No," Fred answered.
"Good." The man had turned back to his computer, which sat on the kitchen table. "In a little while I have another job for you and Vic."
"What?"
"I'll tell you when I send you to do it. Until then it needn't concern you."
Fred nodded. What Lyons had said to him downstairs popped into his mind. "Mr. Fitzgerald --"
"Yes, Fred?"
"Uh --" Fred closed his mouth. Lyons had to have been lying. His companions would never do something like that to him. It was an insult to even think such a thing. Wasn't it? "Nothing."
He turned to leave the kitchen and returned to the sitting room. The newscasters were still speculating about the abduction of Lori Lyons and wondering aloud if the bombing of the Daily Planet was connected to it in any way. Fred turned it off and then drifted aimlessly about the room for several minutes, trying not to think of what Lyons had told him downstairs. It had to be nonsense, of course. After a time, he went quietly up the stairs to the room that he currently shared with Victor Obey, his companion in the morning's activities. He was forbidden to go back to his apartment until this whole thing was over. His bosses weren't risking even the possibility that someone would think to question him about Ms. Lyons's kidnapping.
And what would he do if they came around afterwards? The thought reared its head, not for the first time. Mr. Fitzgerald had simply told him to deny any such accusation. Except for the fact that he and she had been acquainted a couple of years ago, they had nothing to tie her disappearance to him. The chances were that no one would ask.
But what if they already knew? What if someone had noticed the license plate, or worse, him? He'd stunned Olsen before his former boss could catch a glimpse of him, he was sure. But suppose someone else, who had worked with him during his time at the Planet, had recognized him? Did they have any way of proving what he had done? And if the cops were looking for him, like Lyons had said, would his bosses come to his defense?
But Lyons had to have been lying, he told himself again. She was an unprincipled little tart, who had slept her way to the position of top investigative reporter at the Planet; hadn't she? Sure she had. It wouldn't bother her to lie to him.
Still, it wouldn't hurt to have a little insurance.
Quietly, he hunted around in Vic's suitcase. Vic's stunner wasn't there. Of course he still might have it on his person, but their boss didn't like them carrying the weapons in his house. Fred had put his own in the top of the closet, but he knew for sure that Vic's stunner wasn't up there with it. After a moment's thought, he checked under the other man's pillow and congratulated himself as he discovered the cold, metal shape of the stunner. Quietly, he opened the chamber, removed the power cell, and closed it again. Carefully and neatly, he replaced the weapon under its owner's pillow and smoothed the coverlet. Very casually, he left the room and descended the stairs to the sitting room once more, the power cell to Vic's stunner tucked safely in his pocket.
**********
Velma Chow looked up from her study of the list that Inspector Brent had brought her. The list had been an eye-opener, all right. There were several fairly high-ranking officials of Gaia's Children right here in Metropolis, and a lot of lesser members. Oliver Brent was reading over her shoulder: an activity that normally irritated her considerably, but for some reason it didn't bother her the way it usually did. Maybe, she reasoned, it was because she was focusing so intently on her work.
She leaned back and massaged her throbbing temples. "What I wouldn't give for a painkiller," she muttered.
"Headache?" Brent asked. "If you like, I can ask around for some aspirin."
"Aspirin doesn't touch 'em," Velma said, grimly. "One of the hazards of the job, I guess. I'll worry about it when this is over. I need to give Kent a call."
"I'll do it," Brent said. "Let's not take the chance that some enterprising reporter will pick up the call. They're already speculating about the Gaia's Children connection. We don't need to confirm it."
"What can you do that I --" Velma broke off. "Oh. I forgot. I guess a talent like that would be a real advantage. I'd like to be able to talk to anybody I wanted without a wrist talker."
"Not all the members of the Kent clan are telepaths," Brent corrected her. "The talent skipped some of us, the same way the powers did. And we can't talk to just anyone. It has to be another telepath." His face took on a distant expression. "Clark will be here in a moment."
"Good." Velma rubbed the back of her neck absently. "It's too bad he can't just communicate with Lori. If she could even give us a name, it would help a lot."
"True, but they may not have told her who they are or where she is." Brent stood up, stretching. Velma glanced up at him. He was taller than John Olsen, and probably a little older than he looked, she thought, but like the editor of the Planet, his appearance was that of a man in his mid-forties and remarkably attractive, at that. But, also like John, he was undoubtedly already taken. Still, the scenery wasn't bad.
"Anyway," she said, "we've got to work with what we've got. I'm going to --"
"You wanted to see me, Lieutenant?" Clark was suddenly standing in the room, clad in the bright primary colors of the Suit.
Velma blinked. "How do you do that?" she asked. "I didn't even feel a breeze. No, never mind. I need you to do something for me."
"Okay," Clark said. "What?"
"I need you to dress up in your best work civvies, get your little recorder, and wander around in unlikely places, getting reaction from people about today's bombing, or whatever other subject strikes your fancy, that will get you out and about in improbable and sometimes open, semi-deserted places, and give our kidnappers the opportunity to grab you, too. Got it?"
For the first time since she had seen him today, Clark smiled. "Got it, Lieutenant," he said.
**********
tbc
