Home: Vendetta -- 7/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
"They're to be held separately until their trial. Apparently the people here don't even know where Lori is being held. If one of them is rescued, they don't want the police to be able to find the other."
Velma also swore under her breath. "Ask him what he wants to do next."
"He says to stay away. The last thing he wants to do is endanger Lori. At the very least, they'll be brought together at the so-called trial."
"But if she goes into labor first --"
"I know. *Now* what do we do?"
**********
And now, Part 7:
The lights blazed on in her prison. Lori shaded her eyes with one hand until they adjusted and squinted at the two men who came down the stairs. Why did they always come in pairs, she wondered. Fred had come alone, but the blond guy always had the fellow that had driven the kidnap car with him. Was he that nervous of being in the same room with her? What did he expect -- that she was going to take him out with martial arts and escape? Just before she and Clark had discovered her pregnancy, she had received her brown belt in Tai Kwon Do but she hardly thought that in her current condition she was much danger to anyone.
Her first impression seemed to be correct -- that the blond man was the one in charge. At least he seemed to do most of the talking. "Our other unit just picked up Clark Kent, Ms. Lyons," he informed her, a faint note of smugness in his voice. "Everything is now in place for your trial, which will begin tomorrow morning. Everything will be filmed, including the penalty phase and executions. Of course, the world won't see it until everything is finished.
"And I imagine all the members of your prosecution team will be masked, too," Lori said. "You know what would happen to you if the law discovered who you are."
"Sometimes justice must be meted out in spite of the law," the leader said. "Some day the world will understand why this was done. Humanity is blind in its eagerness to colonize other planets. Man was born on Earth and without Earth Humanity will die."
Lori rolled her eyes but said nothing. "When can I see my husband?" she asked.
"Tomorrow, when the trial begins," the leader told her. "You won't be allowed to speak, however. Each of you will be allowed to see the other's image on a vid screen. Nothing more."
Lori turned her back. "Go away," she said. "There isn’t anything you can say that I’m interested in."
After the sounds of their footsteps ascending the stairs had died away, Lori moved to the wall nearest the steps. As she touched it, the lights went out. Well, that was all right. She already had what she needed. During the period of time when she was supposed to be eating, she had used the luxury of the lights being on to supply herself with two elementary tools. It would probably be at least a little while before they came back, and that gave her time. With luck, they would leave her alone until morning. If they did, maybe she would be long gone.
The lock on the bomb shelter’s door was an electronic one, and necessarily had to be made in such a way that the people inside could open it without help from the outside. Lori didn’t have the key, but she had learned how to short out electronic locks, given the time, a minimum of equipment, and an indifference to how much damage she caused. Silently, she thanked Motormouth Marvin for having taken the time to teach her how to accomplish the feat. It was obvious that Clark had tried to reach her by letting himself be captured, but it was equally obvious that Gaia's Children had no intention of letting them meet again. These people weren't only insane; they were completely, inhumanly cruel.
Silently, clutching the sharp little piece of metal attached to a chunk of broken wood by which to grasp it, which she had removed from the frame of the cot, and a long thin wire that she had extracted from the mattress, she felt her way up the steps. Closing her eyes, and using touch alone, she explored the covering of the lock. There was a fastener. Slowly and cautiously, she began to work.
**********
Fred shut off the small vidscreen and looked around at Fitzgerald as he and Vic came out of the bomb shelter. His apprehension of this morning had dulled considerably. No one had made any attempts to injure him, and he'd just about convinced himself that Lyons's warnings of dire consequences were only a fabrication of her imagination to make him nervous or turn him against his companions.
"Fred," Fitzgerald's voice broke into his thoughts. "I need you and Vic to take care of that other chore, now."
"Sure, Mr. Fitzgerald." Fred turned expectantly. "What do you want us to do?"
"Vic will explain it," his boss told him. "Our other unit just brought the truck back. Get your stunner and I want the two of you to take off, now. This needs to be finished by sundown."
Vic had already headed for the stairs. Fred trailed him. "What's up now?"
"We've got another pickup to make," Vic told him. "He wants the editor of the Daily Planet."
"Mr. Olsen? I'm not so sure that's a good idea. Look at the fuss they're making over Lyons. The media'll have a two-headed cow if we go after him, too. Besides, if I'd known, we could have grabbed him this morning. That was him I had to stun to get her."
"Yeah, well they didn't tell us that this morning," Vic said, sounding, Fred thought, a little surly. "Don't start trying to think, Harkin. That's not our job. We just do what the bosses tell us."
Fred fell silent, and went to the closet to retrieve his stunner. He glanced apprehensively at Vic, hoping that the man wouldn't check the clip of his weapon and discover the missing power cell, but Vic simply shoved it into his waistband and waited with every sign of impatience as Fred slipped a light jacket on to cover the presence of his own stunner. Together, they went down the steps and made their way to the garage.
They'd sure waited long enough, if they wanted to pick up Olsen, Fred thought disgustedly as the two of them got into the van. Fortunately, in the summer the sun set late, but it was almost past six now and Olsen could very well be heading home for dinner -- especially since the Planet building was in the shape it was. The last thing Fred wanted to do was commit a home invasion or something. A place like this probably had alarms and security fields and what-not all over the place. Besides, he didn't want there to be the slightest chance of his having to face down Mr. Olsen on any kind of equal footing. He would never admit it aloud, but his former editor intimidated him somewhat. Olsen wasn't a small man and he had a build that gave Fred the impression that he worked out at least on a semi-regular basis. He was probably pushing fifty, but he didn't look it and if Olsen managed to get his hands on Fred it might not all go Fred's way.
Fred glanced down at his middle with a slight grimace. He knew very well that he'd let himself get out of shape and that he needed to lose at least ten pounds, but it hadn't seemed important. Well, he decided, he just wasn't going to let Mr. Olsen get close enough to put up any resistance. He'd stun the guy from the car, like he had before. Then he wouldn't have a problem. By the time the editor woke up, he'd be tied and unable to resist.
He still didn't like the idea of grabbing Olsen. The police were already on the alert because of Lyons's kidnapping. They'd really turn the heat up if they discovered that Kent and now Olsen had vanished, too. How long would it be before they connected the whole thing to him? Lyons had said they already had, but she was probably blowing smoke. How could she possibly know something like that, anyway?
"How do we find Olsen, anyway?" he asked.
"One of our observers is watching him," Vic told him. "He's headed home. Drive over there and park in the easement."
Olsen lived in a nice section of town, Fred thought a short time later as the van approached the Olsen home. It was even better here than over where Mr. Fitzgerald lived, barely a mile away. He drove along the well-maintained street, looking enviously at the large, quietly elegant homes surrounded by beautiful landscaping and wide, spreading lawns. It made his own cramped, one-room apartment seem that much less bearable. His former editor didn't need to have fired him, after all. He could have given him another warning. Lyons would have re-created her research again with only minor inconvenience but, as was typical of persons like Olsen, he couldn't give an ordinary working stiff a break. It wasn't as if he'd caused any lasting harm, after all. The Daily Planet was one of the most prestigious news services on the face of the Earth. When he'd had to leave, the job he'd gotten at the International Dirt Digger afterwards hadn't carried nearly the prestige as it had when he told people he worked at the Daily Planet. If he looked at it that way, Lyons and Olsen were responsible for wrecking his life. Olsen probably deserved whatever the leadership of Gaia's Children had in mind for him.
"There it is," Vic said. "Pull around to the rear. There's an easement there for people to get to the beach. We can park there, and go around to the front on foot. We won't take the car out of the back this time. We don't want to give him any warning."
Great, Fred thought as he pulled the truck onto the side of the easement. He was supposed to hold up Mr. Olsen in his driveway? This was stupid! People were bound to see and then his hide would be on the line!
On both sides the pines towered over the truck, blocking off the light of the sinking sun. Somewhere ahead of them the pines ended where the road gave onto the white sands of the beach. He opened the door and got out. Vic got out as well, drawing his stunner.
"Put that thing away," Fred told him irritably. "If somebody comes along, the last thing we need is for them to see you waving a stunner. Come on."
Vic raised the stunner, aiming at him. He pulled the trigger.
There was a futile click as he did so. Fred stared unbelieving at him as Vic pulled the trigger again.
Another click.
It hit him like an electric shock. Lyons had been right all along. He grabbed for his stunner and brought it up to level on Vic. Vic ignored him, pulling the trigger a third time.
Another click. Fred aimed his stunner at Vic and fired.
His stunner didn't respond with the reassuring hum that he expected. It clicked.
Vic -- or someone -- had taken the power cell out of his stunner, he realized belatedly. The only reason that he wasn't lying unconscious on the ground was the fact that Vic's stunner was also empty. He turned and ran unsteadily down the gravel road, back toward the street, fumbling clumsily in his pocket for the power cell that he had taken from Vic's weapon as he did so. There were still cars passing as the local residents returned home from work. Vic wouldn't dare try to stun him in public. Or he hoped not.
From behind him he heard the pound of feet and knew that Vic was chasing him. He hadn't thought he could run any faster, but all of a sudden his legs seemed to have wings. Gravel slipped and slid under his feet but it didn't seem to matter as he fled toward the open area and relative safety.
**********
Quietly, Lori eased the basement door open a crack. From somewhere she could hear the muted murmur of voices, but nothing close by. The kitchen was dim and the heating unit was bare of any signs of food preparation. As quickly and quietly as she could, she slipped out the door and shut it behind her.
The kitchen was fairly large. There was a door to her left, leading into a mud room, with a door opening from it opposite from the place she stood, she recalled, that led into the big garage. A wooden door at right angles to the garage entrance apparently opened onto the outside: probably a back door, she thought. There was an exit on the opposite side of the kitchen with a pair of swinging doors and it was from that direction that the voices were coming. They were drawing slowly closer and Lori retreated to the mud room.
There was a fourth door that had been invisible from her vantage point in the kitchen, opening from the fourth side. Lori flattened herself against it and listened.
There was no movement beyond the door that she could hear, and the voices were distant murmurs from this position. The outer door, she saw at once, was dead bolted. Trying to escape that way would be a study in futility, but she might be able to get away somehow from another point in the house, assuming that she could avoid the inhabitants.
Cautiously, moving by the fractions of an inch, Lori eased the door open.
The voices became louder with the door open, but not much louder. Evidently, they were coming from another room. Lori slipped through the doorway and closed it behind her. She moved forward by inches, her back pressed her to the wall and straining her ears, but the voices were retreating as she listened. At a guess, they were headed for the kitchen through the door opposite to the one by which she had just exited. There appeared to be two voices, one male and the other, either a child's or a woman's. Lori slipped sideways along the wall, easing her way forward, careful where she put her feet.
A short hallway stretched ahead of her, opening, she realized onto another room on her left: possibly the living room or a dining room, which meant that it might give way into the kitchen. But on the right, opposite the entrance into the larger room, was a flight of carpeted stairs with a mahogany banister curving gracefully upward.
Hanging around here was bound to get her caught fairly soon, she knew. Without further hesitation, Lori made for the stairs and hurried up them on tiptoe as quickly as she could move.
Silence met her on the upper floor. Judging by appearances, the occupants of this house were all downstairs. She paused in the upper hallway for just a moment and then peeked into one of the rooms.
It was a fairly good-sized bedroom. Two single beds occupied most of the space, and a pair of men's shoes lying on their sides by one of the beds seemed to indicate that the room had tenants, although they weren't present at the moment.
Lori listened a moment and then exited the bedroom. There as another door a little farther down the hallway and a quick check told her it was a large, luxurious bathroom with a big linen closet opening on one wall. She opened it up and saw shelves with stacks of folded towels, hand towels, washcloths and bed linens.
No place to hide here. Lori listened again before peeking her head out of the bathroom.
The lower floor wasn't visible from here, but she couldn't hear the voices at all. She edged out of the bathroom and continued her exploration. The hallway split a little farther on, one branch ending at a door that proved to be another bedroom, this one apparently the domain of a teenage girl. At least, Lori couldn't think of any grown woman who would be likely to have posters of Grant Wyoming, the newest teen heartthrob, plastered all over the walls of her boudoir.
She retreated to the split in the hallway again and took the other branch.
This one led to what must be the master bedroom. A king-sized bed dominated the room, and two large, cherry wood dressers stood against the walls. A dressing table with a ruffled skirt and a large, lighted mirror took up one corner, with a frivolous little chair sitting askew in front of it. The carpet beneath her feet was soft and thick and of a rich red color that made Lori blink in surprise. A bathroom opened off one side, and a pair of windows opened in the opposite wall with thick curtains drawn part way across them.
She crossed instantly to the windows and peered out.
The neighborhood was quite obviously well-to-do, and Lori recognized the style of houses at once. She had to be somewhere in the Hobs Ocean View Estates. Probably she wasn't that far from John Olsen's home, if she could just figure out some way to get out of this place before they caught her.
Back at the bedroom door, she listened again. From downstairs, she could barely hear the murmur of voices. She still had a little time, she thought, but not much. Sooner or later, someone was going to come up the steps and find her here.
At the other end of the hall, a window opened, and Lori went to peer out. Her heart leaped. Beyond the window, the tiled roof of part of the lower level met in a V, and at the edge of the roof a brick chimney rose skyward.
Quickly, she glanced back at the stairs. No one was coming, yet. Maybe here was her way out.
With fingers that trembled in their eagerness, Lori unlatched the window and slid it upward. It moved without a sound, and she was able to reach the fine mesh screen that swung outward on invisible hinges. Cautiously, she turned sideways to make room for her rounded belly, and scooted through, managing to catch her weight on her hands as she cleared the window. Meticulously, she reached back, slid the window closed and swung the screen back into place.
The sun was almost setting amid a blaze of red and pink. Lori moved away from the window and backed against a spot where two outer walls met. From this place, it would be difficult for anyone to see her, either from the ground or from a window as long as she didn't draw any attention to herself. Carefully, she hunched down into the corner, making herself as small as she possibly could. Now it was up to luck. She couldn't climb down from where she was, certainly not by daylight. After dark, she might be able to manage it, but it would be chancy. But maybe -- just maybe -- one of the city's supermen would spot her before the residents of the house did.
She sank back against the painted surface and rested her head on her knees after her recent activities. And it was then that she became aware of the pressure that grew to an ache, low in her back, as if something there was purposefully clamping down. Pain radiated around her sides from the back to the front.
No, she told herself. Not now. It had to be false labor again; it just had to. The last thing she dared to do right now was to scream for help. One of the supermen might hear her, but the residents of the house might hear her just as easily.
Desperately she scanned the sky, looking for a flash of telltale color. "Clark," she whispered softly. "I need you!"
**********
Carla Rhoads glanced around with appreciation as Meriel guided her little car through the streets of the Hobs Ocean View Estates. Large homes with manicured lawns and tastefully landscaped grounds bordered the wide street. It was the kind of place that she hoped that she and Connor could afford, someday, after she became the well-paid professional journalist that she planned to become, and Connor’s business was a little more firmly established. The gym was already doing much better than it had been a few months ago, due largely to Connor’s good management as well as the publicity that had resulted from the capture of Marcella Evans and the series that Lori had written concerning the fitness issues of expectant couples. Connor had told her that his ambition was to expand into a chain of health clubs, first in the state of New Troy and then perhaps to other states. Carla heartily endorsed the program and had been researching the issues involved in such a plan. Maybe, she had told him, once she was off probation as the office intern, she would be able to do more to help him. In any case, she and Connor had taken out a six-month contract only a week before, to see if they were as compatible as a married couple as they seemed to be.
"Your dad’s house is on the beach?" she asked Meriel.
"No, we’re actually about a mile from the beach," Meriel said. "Dad owns the land that borders the beach, and there’s an easement that cuts through the property so people can get down to it. It was great for my brothers and me when we were younger. We had our own little private forest to play in, and we could go down to the beach for summer picnics whenever we wanted. We were going to have a barbecue there tomorrow, but with Lori being kidnapped like this, I think it’s been put on hold until they find her."
"Yeah," Carla said.
"We’ll be going right past it in a few minutes," Meriel said. "The address we’re headed to is just a few blocks away. I’ll point it out to you."
They turned onto White Sands Boulevard barely a moment later. The Olsen home was on the right side of the street, and Carla admired the landscaping as well as the graceful lines of the building. Behind it she could see the spires of respectably tall pines waving in the brisk breeze that was blowing in from the ocean. To the left of the house, the easement of which Meriel had spoken cut into the stand of trees, leading toward the beach a mile away.
"Nice," she said. "It’s hard to believe that these kidnappers could live in a place like this."
"Yeah," Meriel agreed. "I guess you can’t judge by appearance --" She broke off, stamping on the brake and jerking the wheel sideways as a man emerged at a run from the easement and charged into the street almost directly ahead of them. They skidded sideways and came to a rest against the curb, both considerably shaken by the event.
"Move over!"
Carla twisted around at the male voice and stared in shock at the stunner the newcomer on the scene thrust into her face.
"Move over!" the man ordered again, and then, apparently realizing the impossibility of his demand, considering the size of Meriel's car, he waved the stunner. "Get in the back! Now!"
Carla scrambled to obey and the carjacker jumped into the place that she had vacated. "Go!"
Meriel stepped on the accelerator as he slammed the door shut. Carla glanced back as they pulled away, in time to see a second man emerge from the easement. It was difficult to be sure, but it looked very much to her as if he were also clutching a stunner.
"What do you want?" Meriel demanded. Her voice was higher than normal, which didn’t surprise Carla in the slightest. She was certain that if she tried to speak she wouldn’t be able to produce a sound.
"Just go!" the man told her. Carla saw her glance sideways at him and then back at the street ahead of them.
Meriel obeyed. "Make sure your webbing is fastened," she said, and it seemed to Carla that her voice had lost its frightened edge. Carla pulled the safety webbing over her lap and torso.
The carjacker didn’t deign to obey. "Get us out of here," he told Meriel. "Fast."
"Okay. Don’t get careless with that thing," Meriel said. "If you stun me we’ll crash."
And all at once, there was a man in the street ahead of them. Carla bit back a scream as Meriel aimed directly for him. Carla gasped and then realized all at once what she was seeing.
The man was tall, with very dark brown skin, and he wore a body suit of pure white, with a long, white cape that waved from his shoulders. It had to be one of the superheroes, she thought in the split instant before impact. Carla and Meriel were protected from the jolt that shook the car as it ploughed into the white clad man, but the carjacker was thrown forward and his forehead struck the dashboard with a dull thud. The stunner cracked against the windshield, leaving a dent in the duraglass surface, and then they were coming to a halt. The super hero walked around to the driver’s side of the car and leaned in.
"Are you ladies all right?" he inquired.
"We’re fine," Meriel said. She undid her safety webbing and pushed the driver’s door open.
The superhero stepped back to allow her to do so, and gave her a hand from the car. "What happened?" he inquired. Belatedly, Carla recognized him as Titan, the superhero that made Tanzanika his home base. What on Earth was he doing in Metropolis?
"This man carjacked us," she began. "Over by Mr. Olsen’s house. There was another man that looked like he was chasing this one. I think he had a stunner, too."
Titan looked sharply at her. "I’ll send someone to check the vicinity," he said.
"Thanks," Meriel said. "I think the police are looking for this guy. His name is Fred Harkin."
"I believe you’re right." The dark-skinned hero grinned suddenly, and Carla thought the smile was almost predatory as he looked at the semiconscious man in the passenger seat. The fellow was beginning to groan and stir, and Titan reached through the door to appropriate the stunner. He examined it briefly, narrowing his eyes. "This stunner is empty. Interesting. Why don’t you get back into your car and I’ll give you a lift to the police station. There are going to be a lot of people very happy to see this gentleman."
"What’s he talking about?" Carla whispered as the car was lifted suddenly into the air. She grasped the handhold beside her as the ground fell away beneath them.
"Fred Harkin was the copyboy and general gofer at the Daily Planet, two years ago," Meriel said. "I saw him a few times and recognized him right away. The cops think he’s the one that kidnapped Lori. They’ve been looking for him."
"You must have some memory for faces," Carla said.
"Well -- yeah," Meriel said, looking almost embarrassed. "I have a photographic memory. Don’t tell anyone, okay? I don’t want them to think I’m weird or anything."
"Sure," Carla said, enviously. "I wish mine was that good, though."
They were dropping toward the ground again. Fred Harkin groaned once more and pushed himself painfully up from his crumpled position in the passenger seat. "What the --"
Titan set the car down on the street and pulled open the passenger door. "Come along, Mr. Harkin. There’s somebody that wants to talk to you."
**********
tbc
