TOC Part 8 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JOURNAL ENTRY #9
EARLY NOVEMBER, 1994
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I guess the next thing worth mentioning would be the pheromones... No, wait. That was after. The gangsters were first. This guy, Emil Hamilton, came up with a cloning technology which allowed him to bring gangsters back from the dead. He wanted to use them for some kind of experiments. Thought he could tinker with their genes and surgically remove the evil in them. Something like that. Anyway, we originally thought that it wouldn't have much to do with us, since Lois and Clark were clearly on the case. But then they ran into a dead end and decided to call on Bobby. Luckily, we'd at least kept an eye on the situation.
It was standard procedure for us to monitor Bobby's conversations with Lois and Clark. He'd have reported it to us anyway, but sometimes he needed a little extra info. So, we listened in and relayed whatever he needed through the comlink. Bobby's earpiece was specially designed to take Clark's abilities into account. Not only was it invisible, but it projected the sound in focused waves aimed directly at his ear drum. If Clark could even hear it, it would seem far away to him, and would hopefully be drowned out by the innumerable other conversations taking place within his considerable earshot.
Even so, we'd had some close calls. Times when he'd seemed to catch something, or when he stared directly at one of our cameras. We held our breath whenever something like that happened, but nothing ever really happened. He would shake his head or shrug or blink or something, clearly dismissing whatever he'd vaguely sensed. Gradually, he did it less and less often, the little noises and tells of the equipment surrounding him slowly being accepted as background noise.
This time, the meeting was in an ally. We were supposed to have a camera in position, but it wasn't functioning right. Luckily, we were prepared. Some time back, while Lois's Jeep had been in the shop, we'd taken advantage of the opportunity to do a little "custom work." Breaking in to the garage had been easy enough. Once there, we'd installed a well-hidden access panel in one of the back doors. We'd also planted a few bugs inside.
I should mention that we'd done the same in their apartments, for emergency use only. When we'd broken into Lois's place, we accidentally knocked the numbers off her front door. We made a mistake replacing them (in our rush, we put them on backwards), but somehow, she never noticed. It was amazing, really. Lois and Clark, two of the best reporters in the world, were surrounded by cameras (and little tell-tale mistakes) but they never seemed to notice or realize that they had an audience beyond the people who were visibly in the room with them. Odd folks.
We turned the Jeep cameras on shortly before Bobby was due to arrive on the scene. We normally kept the bugs offline, to give them privacy. We were there to help them and to protect them, not to spy on their every move. Once Eugene was on board, though, we did have him develop a program to quietly monitor the input for indications of an emergency.
When the view came up on the monitors, we saw that Lois and Clark were sitting in the front of the Jeep, keeping an eye out for their informant. There was a large bag of take-out in Clark's lap. "Mmm. That ravioli smells great," Lois said.
"Lois, it's for Bobby," Clark reminded her.
"Yeah, that's right, you sneak!" Karen said, shaking her finger accusingly at the monitor. Lois and Clark, of course, couldn't hear her, but it amused the kids to comment on the meetings.
"He won't know," Lois assured her partner.
"You wanna bet?" Dudley asked, smirking.
Clark gave Lois a look. "Oh yeah? Remember what happened that time you picked some of the cheese off his pizza? He got all pouty and wouldn't tell us anything..."
"Not that we knew much anyway, that time," Aymee put in defensively.
Lois shook her head. "I still don't know how he knew that cheese was missing. I was very careful not to disturb the pepperoni."
Karen stuck her tongue out. "Because Bobby has people looking out for him! That's how!"
Just then, Clark's beeper went off. "That's the office. I better call in," he said. He got out of the car, paused to wave an admonishing finger when he noticed Lois eyeing the bag he'd left on the seat, and went off to find a phone.
Lois watched him go, then made a grab for the ravioli.
"Bobby," Phillip called into the comlink, "I'm not sure if you're in position yet, but Lois is going for your food again."
Immediately, Bobby sat up. "Hey!" He called out, indignant.
Lois gasped and nearly jumped out of her seat. "Bobby, how did you get back there?"
"Trade secret," he replied.
"Oh, and she's hiding dessert," Phillip added.
"Trade secret, my butt!" Dudley said. "He used our secret door! He's not supposed to do that! What if they saw him? Or what if Clark decided to take a closer look?"
"We'll talk to him about it when he gets back," Aymee assured him.
"We talked to him about it last time," Karen complained. "He likes surprising them too much."
"What else can we do?" Aymee asked.
"Guys, quiet!" Phillip cut in. "I can't hear what's going on."
"... bring me?" Bobby was asking.
"A wide variety of culinary delights," Lois said almost resentfully. "As usual."
Bobby shot her a look. "Do I detect an attitude here? Uh-huh. Well, look. You know, I don't have to snitch for you anymore. There's a reporter at the Star who is going to give me my own chef if I start working for them."
"Yeah, right," Dudley remarked as Bobby started to chew a handful of breadsticks. "In your dreams."
Luckily, Clark returned before Lois could respond. "That was Jimmy," he told Lois. "You're not going to believe this. Al Capone just paid Perry a visit."
"How many of these characters are out there?"
"I don't know, but Capone tried to bribe him. Apparently, the mayor got the same offer." Clark turned to Bobby, who, predictably, had his mouth full. "Bobby, what do you know about all this? Who are these people?"
Bobby swallowed hastily. "Look," he said, licking his fingers clean, "all I know is it's an experiment gone bad."
Clark turned back to Lois. "Hamilton really did it."
"And this regenerated Capone character?" Bobby continued. "Not a real big fan of the no smoking laws."
"What else?" Lois asked expectantly.
"What else?" Bobby echoed, looking up from the sub he'd just taken out. "What? For
this? You didn't even bring me dessert. Come on!" It wasn't just that we'd told him Lois was holding back. It was a code phrase, telling us that he needed some help.
Phillip had the file ready. He filled Bobby in while Clark persuaded a reluctant Lois to retrieve the last bag.
"What is with him and food?" I asked. "I mean, I know Wells set it up as a front, but how can he eat like that? Especially a skinny guy like him?" I'd been wondering about it for some time.
"Oh, you didn't know? Wells gave him some special pills from the future," Aymee answered. "
Doctor Sam Lane's Abs In A Bottle," she intoned. "It speeds up his metabolism, I think. He can eat as much as he wants and never gain an ounce. He takes them before he goes to see Lois and Clark. Makes him really hungry, but keeps up the illusion."
"Whoa!
Tortes," Bobby said when he got the information from Phillip and the bag of dessert from Lois. "Way to go, girl. You redeemed yourself."
"Now talk," Lois demanded.
"Look," Bobby said around a mouthful of pastry, "there's this guy. He's got this illegal gaming club. Downtown, on Hobb Street. His name is Georgie Hairdo. Capone's thugs have been leaning on him pretty hard."
"What's Capone's interest in the club?" Clark asked.
"Aw, come on," Bobby responded as if it was perfectly obvious (and as if he hadn't just been filled in on that very thing by Phillip). "He wants a piece of the action, just like the old days." Then he looked down, as if he'd forgotten something. "Oh, anybody want this pickle?"
Lois grabbed it, obviously thrilled to get some food back from the monster eating his way through the bag in the back seat.
Phillip, responding to the signal, confirmed that there was only one piece of information left to give.
"Look," Bobby told them, "something's going down at the club tonight. That's all I know. I gotta run." He started to leave, but then turned back. "Oh, and by the way, next time bring me something to drink, huh? And I don't mean none of that imported water. Something American." Then, he let himself out (using the correct door), and rushed away.
We closed down the cameras when Lois and Clark drove off a short while later, trusting that they'd manage, as they always had.
The next day, we were shocked to hear that Clark had supposedly been shot and killed. Still, we knew it wasn't our job to interfere. Sure, things could have gone differently, in any number of ways, but who knows what effect that would have had on their future? Our job was to make sure history unfolded the way it was supposed to — especially when it came to Lois and Clark — not to stick our noses into their lives every time we thought something was wrong.
We did, however, quietly help to cover up any questions people may have had about Clark's supposed return from the dead. In part, that meant talking to Hamilton and convincing him to go along with the story. We ended up recruiting him as an associate. Bobby helped set him up with a new lab in exchange for his help with scientific problems when we needed it.
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