A/N: The extent of my knowledge on the subject of Nuclear power is limited to a physics course i took in collge. So be kind.
Disclaimer: Still don't own Remington Steele, or LnC, i do however take full credit for all the orginal charachters in my story and the situations that accure within. Jason in particular is a favorite of mine, he's the product of too many collin farrel movies and alot of late night documentaries on the history channel about the IRA. without further ado...
Lex Luthour’s penthouse
This wasn’t a good sign.
With an audible sigh of disgust Lex Luthour poured his third glass of brandy of the day.
Nigel, his number one man, his confidant, a man who was second to none in dealing with ‘problems’ had failed; Clark Kent was still very much alive. And to his annoyance, Lois Lane had ended up in the hospital. And guess who came charging to her aid, none other then Clark Kent. Some Podunk from nowhere was worming his way into Lois’s heart.
He could deal with Lois being enamored of Superman, at least Superman was almost his equal, but Kent…a more contemptible substitute he could scarcely imagine—except perhaps that squeaky voiced moron who ran errands for the reporters at the planet—Timmy, or Tommy something common like that.
Not to mention some moronic street gang had put Steele in the hospital. At this rate he’d never find that blasted rock. He toyed idly with the thought eliminating his minions and getting newer ones—better ones. But then thought better of it, Mrs. Cox was doing her job most admirably, and Steele would be back on his feet soon enough. Trevainian—well he was a fat sloppy moron, but he had connections. Nigel was an irreplaceable compatriot; they’d been together from the start. Of course he would have to be punished severely for his short comings, but in the long run keeping him around was far more beneficial then having him destroyed.
A swoosh of the elevator door announced Nigel’s return, his footsteps barley registered on the carpeted floors, partially because of the quality of the flooring, and partially because Nigel—the ex-spy—was quite adept at moving through rooms in complete silence.
“Kent is alive” Luthour stated, swirling his drink in the dark.
“A slight error in calculation Sir” Nigel bowed in subservience.
“I don’t pay you to ‘miscalculate’. I pay you solve problems, don’t I?”
“Sir…” Nigel was cut off by the loud crash of a crystal tumbler against the stone fire place. The flames licked happily at the amber liquor dripping into their eager mouths.
“The last time I looked Clark Kent was a problem, a problem I asked you to deal with. Do you realize the mess you’ve made you ham fisted walrus. Lois could have been killed.”
“I assure you Mr. Luthour, Miss Lane is fine. A slight concussion is all—“
“Regardless, I would never have expected such a abysmal job from a man with you background and reputation.”
“I promise you, this…this blunder shall be rectified.”
“I know it will Nigel, do you want to know how I know?”
Nigel tensed keeping silent at Luthour’s rhetorical inquiry.
“I know because there are a hundred men and women who are ‘younger’ and more eager to please then you, who would line the block to work for me.” Lex grinned impishly at his normally taciturn companion’s shocked expression “Why just the other day I was commenting to Mrs. Cox that if something should ever happen to you, she would be the ideal candidate for your replacement.”
Nigel blanched, and attempted regain his outward appearance of control. This was just one of Luthour’s mind games he would be a fool to eliminate him. Wouldn’t he…?
As if reading his thoughts Lex continued “Don’t fool yourself ‘old man’ you’re just as disposable as everyone else who works beneath me.” Swiftly he extracted a cigar from his front pocket and brought it to his nose smelling the quality of the tobacco within. “Besides, there are far more benefits to working with Mrs. Cox then you. She can do ‘things’ for me that you certainly cannot.”
“So, the question you have to ask yourself my friend is ‘how am I going to set this right?’ Well I can certainly give you a few suggestions…but you have to ask me first.” Smugly he snipped the end off the cigar and lit it.
His contempt for Luthour grew exponentially at his last comment. To think that arrogant brat was asking him to beg for forgiveness. This was reprehensible, but he had no alternative at the moment, because just as sure as Luthour was a coward, he would kill him without a second thought for failure to bow to his whims.
“Please…tell me how to make this better Mr. Luthour.” The words nearly chocked him. But his discomfort only added to Lex’s amusement.
“Of course…all you had to do was ask”
*******
Daily Planet newsroom 8:44 a.m.
“Zilch—that’s exactly what I found out about Felix Burmeister, everyone I ask tells me the same story: Born in east Germany blah, blah, immigrated to Austria when he was five, met Albert Haas when they were in college. Burmeister started a rare jewelry store, but business was slow. He in listed Albert Haas in his little venture, and suddenly business boomed. Then suddenly they up and moved to Metropolis. He has no criminal history, no outstanding warrants, no wife no kids, no family of any kind living in the United States.”
“Well I found out that our friend Albert Haas was once linked to the KGB, and the reason he left Austria
was because they had a contract out on his head. His passage to the US was paid by LexLabs; his expertise was specifically requested by the department head Gene Newtrich to conduct research on various radioactive elements. Some of which were alien in nature…”
“Meteor rocks?”
“Bingo, my source was pretty much tapped out after that, but he did speculate that Albert Haas was more then your average Jeweler. He was willing to lay pretty good odds that Haas was an international terrorist, he told me about this group called ‘The Hammer of Thor” Their leader is—“
“Dimitri Nowitski, I did a story on international terrorism my first year at the planet. He was one of the more interesting terrorist leaders I highlighted. From what I remember his group was very keen on nuclear weapons, A-bombs, dirty bombs etc”
Clark flipped absently through the files on his desk “did they ever do anything substantial?”
“Well, Perry’s white house contact couldn’t’ tell us much but some uranium went missing from the Los Santos Nuclear facility a few years ago. According to him that same uranium was later sold to a Turkish militant group, but those Hammer of Thor guy’s were only out bid by a few million.”
“You guys are gonna freak when I tell you what I found out.” Jimmy practically skipped to Lois and Clark’s conjoined desks.
“What’s up?”
“This stuff is gonna sound like it came from a James Bond movie, but bear with me.”
“Believe me Jimmy at this point nothing you could tell us would be all that shocking” Lois grinned at Clark who mirrored her expression.
“Brace yourselves, I just got off the phone with Perry’s old buddy ‘Stormin Norman’—“
“Schwarzkopf??” they both asked in unison twin looks of disbelief etched on their faces
“No…” Jimmy grinned sheepishly “Haberstetzer. He’s a retired Admiral…anyway he left the armed forces a few months back, but before he did he was working on this project with a General Alan Brody involving some kind of meteorite. According to him there was also a civilian on the payroll a Mr. Albert Haas. The three of them were doing some sort of experimentation on a rock they dug up in Smallville, Kansas—“
“Smallville!”
“Wow you guys are like twins sometimes” Jimmy laughed and then straightened at their identical looks of annoyance.
“Well I figured it had something to do with that story you guys covered about Trask, and Norman confirmed it. The rock they were working on had the destructive power of a three hundred megaton bomb. Considering one megaton of nuclear power is equivalent to one million tons of TNT, think of the possibilities that little rock could posses.”
“If you were to drop a bomb of that magnitude in this country the devastation would be incalculable, we’re talking tens of millions dead instantly.”
“and that’s from only one sixteen ounce fragment. The whole rock would take out the entire planet.”
All three of them sucked in an audible breath of fear.
Clark broke the pregnant silence “I though Trask was under the delusion that his miracle rock would kill Superman…”
“That’s what lead him to Smallville in the first place. The rock we’re talking about and Kryptonite are two totally different things according to Norman. Kryptonite is a radioactive substance that, in theory, is harmful only to Superman. The specific level of radiation of the meteorite Haas was working on is a million times that of uranium or plutonium. If you’re even in a five mile radius of it then you’ll suffer the effects of nuclear fallout. The only way the scientists could work on it was super concentrated lead suits.”
“Alright so we know Haas knew about the rocks, what else Jimmy?”
“Well here’s when things start to get interesting, Haas, international man of mystery that he was, planned to sell what he knew to the highest bidder. He took all his research and secretly made copies of it; then went into hiding; no one heard word one from him until he was shot point blank in his jewelry store last week.”
“What about his connection to LexLabs and Gene Newtrich?”
“Apparently Newtrich sold the rock to the government for twenty-five million dollars, then he got the hell out of dodge. Since Haas was the expert, the government naturally selected him to continue their research.”
“Any idea what Haas wrote down in those papers Jimmy?”
“Well, Haas wrote in his diary compulsively--detailed notes equations, favorite movies stuff like that. The day K-9, that’s the rocks’ code name, went missing one of his lab techs supposedly saw him drawing a detailed map.”
“So Haas double crossed the Russians and came to Metropolis—“
“Then Newtritch double crossed Lex and fled the country,”
“Haas then double crosses the government and goes into hiding”
“Burmeister double crosses Haas, and gets him blown away. Then he triple crosses Lex, unwittingly, and runs off with the only way to find these stones—“
“and gets an innocent man stabbed in the process.”
“I wouldn’t break out the violins for Steele just yet. Someone left you a message this morning CK. I taped it so you could listen when you got in.”
Clark arched a curious eyebrow at the younger man, who could only shrug in apology “I was worried about Lois I thought it might have been her calling from the hospital.”
“How’d you know I was in the hospital?” Lois asked her own delicate brow arching.
“Police scanner…I had a misspent youth.”
Clark chuckled as Jimmy hit the play button on the recorder:
“Mr. Kent, I’m sure by now you’ve found the present I left for you—the wallet. If you check the identification numbers on the license you’ll find that there’s no match in the California DPS records, you’ll also find that the name Remington Steele, aside from being synonymous with criminal investigation, is nothing more then a pseudonym.
“An alias used by a former Jewel thief named Michael O’Leary, an art thief named David Blain, and a safe cracker named Paulo Fabrini. Who are these Men you ask? Why there all the same person the man you know as Remington Steele. What I’m offering you Mr. Kent is the true and unaltered story of one of Europe’s most notorious con men. I prose a meeting between you and I, your lovely partner is welcome of course, but only the two of you. No recording devices or surveillance equipment is allowed, just bring you listening ears, and I promise you won’t be disappointed. Tonight—the parking lot beneath the Lexor, ten o’clock sharp, if you’re even one minute late I won’t be there. Ciao.”
****************
