Part 13
“The police still aren’t saying anything and Moskal won’t even admit he was out there last night,” Perry groused to Lois and Clark the next morning. “Has STAR Labs come back with an analysis of what ever it was they sprayed on Clark?”
“No,” Lois told him.
“They ran all sorts of tests but wouldn’t tell either of us the results,” Clark added. “All we know is whatever it was, it affected my breathing and my attacker thought I was more suggestible than I was. But that still doesn’t get us any closer to knowing who the kidnapper is or what they’re really after.”
Jimmy grimaced. “Great. Maybe we can just get a signed confession from them and hand it over to the police chief.” As he said it, his eyes widened and Lois knew Jimmy realized what he had just said.
Perry answered right on cue, patting Jimmy on the back. “That's brilliant, Jimmy.”
“This is really starting to bug me,” Jimmy whispered to Lois as soon as Perry had shut the door on his office.
“Maybe you should have thought of that before you did it,” Clark suggested.
Lois's phone rang and she answered it, missing the rest of the conversation between Clark and Jimmy. “…Great, we'll be right there.” She turned to Clark. “That was Constance. She wants to talk to us about the Magnificent Romick. Come on, let's go.”
Clark looked worried. “You go ahead. I've got someone else I want to talk to,” he said.
-o-o-o-
“You can understand, can't you? He can be very... difficult sometimes,” Constance was saying. The woman seemed nervous, twisting the rings on her fingers as she spoke to Lois in one of the side rooms in the Magic Club.
“Completely off the record,” Lois assured her. “You're an anonymous source.” Lois didn’t really want to do it. Making Constance an anonymous source would make her job a little more difficult. It wasn’t easy to write a credible story when your sources refused to be accountable for their statements. But Constance seemed sincere in both her wish to help and her fear of what was happening around her.
“Darren went through a real bad period about a year ago,” Constance said. “He had run up a lot of debt and at the same time he lost his big contract in Vegas.”
“Gambling problem?”
Constance nodded. “Big one. The casino owner found out Darren disguised himself and used his skills to cheat at the tables for years. Anyway, after that Darren was wiped out financially and no one would hire him. At least he didn't go to jail.”
“But he's back on top now,” Lois pointed out.
“About three months ago things started to change,” Constance said. “He was rich again. I thought he might be back to gambling but he told me it was all from an anonymous benefactor.”
“Or a series of kidnappings,” Lois murmured mostly to herself.
Constance seemed horrified. “You don't think Darren...?”
“That's exactly what I think,” Lois said. “What about hypnosis? Does Darren know how to do it?”
“Yes, we've used it in our act. Look, you don't know anything for sure. I mean, you have no proof, do you?” Constance said. She seemed more worried than ever.
“Not yet,” Lois admitted. “But if it's him, I'll find some sooner or later.”
-o-o-o-
A quick check of Romick’s history in the Daily Planet archives confirmed much of Constance’s story about Romick. He had been a top headliner in Vegas for years until he was caught cheating at cards, forced to make restitution, and black-listed from gambling in Nevada. With that background, he had found it difficult, if not impossible, to find work until he moved back to his hometown of Metropolis and to the Magic Club.
One interesting point caught Lois’s attention – Romick hadn’t been caught cheating by the casinos’ security although Constance had implied that had been the case. He had been betrayed by someone whose name wasn’t mentioned in any of the documentation Lois could find. Another point – Constance Blackthorn had been his assistant when Romick was arrested. She had tried to go it alone while he was under investigation then black-listed, but the reviews on her version of Romick’s illusion act were mixed at best. She was technically competent but she had no flare. She was an assistant, not a headliner. Even having a good-looking hunk for an assistant hadn't helped.
Romick’s current financial status also confirmed Constance’s story. The entertainer had been doing merely okay until three months before when he started having large influxes of cash. The dates of the deposits followed each ransom payment by about three days. Each deposit had been made through an off-shore bank making it difficult, if not impossible to trace its source. But it was an interesting ‘coincidence’. Lois didn’t believe in coincidences – at least not when they were so obvious.
Lois left a note for Clark to meet her at the Magic Club for the six P.M. show. Constance had given her two tickets and had promised to look around the club for anything that might show Romick’s involvement with the kidnappings. Lois had a feeling they were getting close to a resolution.
-o-o-o-
Romick was performing on stage, Constance in attendance. The woman looked nervous, although Romick showed no signs of concern as he continued his cheerful patter for the audience.
Lois looked up as someone joined her at her stage-side table. “Did your source come through?” she asked as Clark sat down.
Clark nodded. “Klein called me with the preliminary results on the drug analysis.”
“And?”
“It was a strong hypnotic, kind of like a date rape drug. Makes the victim extremely suggestible, and most victims have no recollection of what happened while they were under the influence,” Clark told her keeping his voice low. “It was also laced with kryptonite.”
“But Superman’s been dead for more than a month,” Lois reminded him. Five weeks, two days, ten hours…
Clark shrugged. “They think the drug was made up before the first kidnapping and whoever it was wanted a weapon against Superman as well,” he told her.
“Or maybe whoever it is doesn’t believe Superman’s not around any more,” Lois suggested.
“Maybe,” Clark conceded. “In any case, Klein thinks I had an allergic reaction to the drug and so my attacker wasn’t able to hypnotize me. I couldn’t get hold of Jackson, so I asked Doctor Novak to talk to Brittany Sparrows, the first victim. He confirmed she’d been hypnotized, probably while under drugs, but the suggestions were so deeply rooted in her subconscious he couldn’t access them without using more drugs.”
“Constance told me that Romick's had a heavy infusion of cash in the last three months,” Lois told her partner. “He's also well-versed in hypnosis.”
“What about Dr. Novak? Or any other hypnotist, for that matter?” Clark asked. “The drug used isn’t exactly common but a smart person could certainly get hold of some.”
“And kryptonite? That’s not exactly common, is it?” Lois asked.
“Not really,” Clark admitted. “But it wouldn’t have taken much.”
“I know it's Romick,” Lois stated. “I just have to prove it.” She stood. “I'm going backstage to see what I can find. He'll be out here for at least another twenty minutes.”
“Lois, wait…” Clark began, but she was already heading away from the stage.
“For my next amazement, I'm going to need an assistant from our audience,” Romick announced. “You! The pretty lady on her way out.”
Lois turned around to see Romick beckoning to her as the stagehand on the spotlight swung the light around to shine on her.
“Ladies and gentlemen please welcome on stage Lois Lane from the Daily Planet,” Romick announced. “Now, don't be shy, Miss Lane. I believe we can put all your doubts about illusion to rest this evening.”
Constance was wheeling out a tall box with small slits on all sides. Romick opened the box to reveal a satin lined interior. “All you have to do is step inside,” Romick instructed.
“Lois, I don't think you...” Clark whispered loudly. Privately, she agreed with him. She paused, mentally weighing her options.
“Come now, Miss Lane. You're not afraid, are you?” Romick challenged.
Lois whispered back to Clark, “What can he do to me in front of all these people?”
“It's only a trick. After all, isn't that what you said before?” Romick continued. Lois had little choice but to climb onto the stage. She wasn’t about to be made a laughing stock in front of the elite of Metropolis. She climbed into the open box as the crowd applauded. Romick closed the lid and latched it, trapping her inside the box with only her head sticking out. The bright stage lights kept her from seeing Clark and for some reason that worried her.
“This is one of the most dangerous illusions in all of magic,” Romick was saying. As he spoke, Constance wheeled out a rack covered with black fabric. Romick theatrically pulled the cover off to reveal a stand filled with glittering double-edged swords. Lois tried not to show her nervousness. With the latches thrown she was trapped.
Constance handed Romick a sword. He tapped it on the ground to prove it was real.
“I hope you have faith in me, my dear,” Romick said just before he thrust the sword through the box. No pain, no feeling of pressure – she was okay.
“Feeling lucky?” Romick said with a grin as Constance handed him another sword. Again he thrust the sword through the box and again there was no pain.
“Now, I know what you're thinking,” Romick told the audience. “Any amateur could do this trick as long as he lined the holes up right. So, if I were to, say, blindfold myself...” As he spoke, he pulled a black satin blindfold from his pocket and tied it over his eyes. “...then I couldn't see where I was placing the sword. Especially if I were going after a moving target.”
Constance began to spin the box around and Lois tried to keep her growing fear under control. Constance handed another sword to Romick who began to wave it around as though dueling an imaginary opponent. Constance led him to the box and Romick tapped the sword on the ground, just as he had the previous swords. It sounded different this time, more metallic.
“Three's a charm,” Romick said, raising the sword high, preparing to plunge it into the box.
“No!” Clark’s voice rang out. He was on the stage, his hand on the blade. “It’s not one of your trick swords,” he hissed at Romick. Romick pulled the blindfold off and glared at Clark, then his eyes widened. Lois followed his gaze to see a sheen of blood on the sword blade. Romick stepped back and put the sword back in the rack. Clark put his hand in his pocket.
“Well, I guess I’m more convincing that I thought,” Romick told the audience, hurriedly pulling the other swords out of the box. “How about a hand for the lovely Miss Lane and her gallant rescuer, Mister Kent?”
Lois smiled nervously as the audience applauded. She waited for Romick to undo the latches to release her. Instead, he threw the black sheet of fabric that had covered the swords over her head. There was a bang and she felt herself falling.
She landed on an air mattress in a small dingy room. She scrambled to her feet and ran to the door only to find it locked. Lois raised her hand to pound on the door then decided against it for the moment. She could hear applause somewhere above her. Chances were every one was still occupied with Romick’s stage performance. Lois hoped Clark had enough sense to realize her disappearance wasn’t her idea and he would come looking for her soon.
She took a moment to look around the room. It was nearly cubical and without furnishings except for the air mattress. A television was set into the wall and a program was running on it. Lois looked more closely – it wasn’t a regular television program. The screen was showing a kaleidoscope and there was something hypnotically soothing about it. She sat down on the mattress and started watching, unable to pull her eyes away.
She wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting staring at the screen, when the door opened. Clark walked in, worry written across his face but she couldn’t bring herself to care. He stepped in front of the screen, facing her and she tried to move around him. Something was telling her to keep watching the screen.
“Have you been drugged?” Clark asked. He sounded worried but the screen wouldn’t let her go. She tried to answer his questions but they just didn’t seem very important. He kept moving into her field of view and she kept trying to get around him. Finally Clark turned to look at the screen. A frisson of fear ran down her spine. She didn’t dare let Clark watch the screen otherwise he’d be sucked in just as she had been. But she just didn’t have the energy to stop him.
He seemed to read her mind, turning away from the screen. He grabbed her shoulders and forced her out of the room. Her head began to clear. She tried to move away from him but he hugged her close. It was warm and comforting to be in his arms.
“Lois, what happened?”
“I... I don't remember. There’s something about the TV. I couldn’t stop watching…”
“I think the TV is sending out subliminal messages,” he said, looking at someone or something behind her. “I see a little faster than most people and I think I caught it when I looked at the screen.”
“Mind control?” Henderson’s voice asked. Henderson was here? Lois managed to turn to see Henderson standing there with several uniformed officers. One was taking pictures of something inside of a large shiny blue box with a moon and stars painted on it.
“That looks like the box Chris told us about,” Lois said. She stepped closer and saw that the box wasn’t empty – Doctor Novak was curled up inside, his eyes staring at nothing.
“He must have figured out who it was and confronted them,” Henderson said. “We’re taking Romick and his assistant downtown for questioning.” Lois caught the speculative look Henderson gave her partner. “Good thing Kent interrupted Romick’s performance or we’d have two murders on our hands.”
Lois looked Clark over. His right hand was bandaged. “You grabbed the sword,” she said remembering the sheen of blood on the blade. Clark’s blood. He’d gotten himself hurt again because of her.
“When I came into the building, I noticed the ceremonial sword was missing from the display case,” Clark explained. “Then I saw it in with the trick swords he used for his act.”
Lois turned back to Henderson. "Now what?"
"You know the drill, Lois," Henderson said. "Give Officer Masters your statement and then you can go home."
-o-o-o-
"Clark, you… You could have just yelled for Constance to stop him," Lois told Clark as he accompanied her home.
Clark shook his head as he waited for her to undo the locks on her door. "I don't think Romick recognized that he had the wrong sword, at least not until he saw the blood on my hand. And Constance was the one who handed him the sword, remember? You didn’t see the look on her face when I ran on the stage. She was… I don’t know… It wasn't surprise."
"You think Constance was in on Romick's plot?"
"I'm wondering if Romick was involved in Romick's plot."
"You don't think this is over, do you," Lois stated. She knew Clark well enough to recognize he was worried.
"I read your notes, and did some digging on my own," Clark told her. "Constance Blackthorn is at least as accomplished an illusionist as Romick and is at least as knowledgeable about hypnosis as he is. They used it in their act in Vegas. The real question is what does either of them have to do with the kidnappings?"
"And does it relate to Thompkins' death and if so, how?"
"And does it relate to the Azure Brotherhood?"
"Or are there other players?"
Lois sighed in frustration. Her instincts were normally pretty good, but nothing about this case was making much sense. She turned on her television to catch the night's news. LNN was still running clips of the Pope attending a Madonna concert in Rome. They were speculating that this was just one more sign that the pontiff's mental health was failing.
"Which one do you think killed Novak?" she asked Clark. The antics of the powerful elderly of Europe were hardly as important as a murder in Metropolis, at least in her opinion.
"Which one did the deed or which one is responsible?" Clark asked in response. "I asked Novak a lot of questions about hypnotism, what it can and can't do. In fact, there are some experts who claim there's no such thing as 'hypnotism', that it's a self-induced state of consciousness. The Amazing Kreskin has even offered a reward for anyone who can scientifically prove it exists. No one's collected."
"So, hypnotism doesn't really work?"
"That's the funny thing," Clark said. "It does work, but not like they show in the old movies. A person can't be forced to do anything against their basic beliefs or morals except, and here's the catch, a really good hypnotist or hypnotherapist, given enough time, can warp those beliefs, making wrong seem right."
"Wrong will seem right to you. And you will not remember," Lois quoted.
"Exactly," Clark agreed. "And with drugs, all bets are off. The drugs over-ride all the normal mental safeguards. Under a hypnotic drug, you could easily convince somebody they can fly like Superman could and they'll go right out the window."
"And except for the drug in their system, it would look like suicide."
"Right… Or they could be programmed to commit murder," Clark suggested.
"Or attend a Madonna concert?"
"Or dance in a fountain with a Beefeater?"
"Or launch missiles… Oh my God, Clark. We're talking about a major international conspiracy," Lois realized. Clark nodded solemnly.
"But… how are they, whoever they are, getting to the pope and the queen and whoever else?" Lois asked.
"I have an idea," Clark said.
"Okay, spill it," Lois ordered. She ignored the wary expression on his face.
He took a deep breath. "Okay, but you have to promise not to kill me if I'm right."
"Clark!"
"The moon and the stars command you to… kiss me and remember."
It was as if someone, or something, else had command of her body. She moved closer to Clark and kissed him hard. He backed away and she moved forward, entwining her hands in his hair. It felt so right and she didn’t want to stop. He slipped off the sofa, away from her. She pouted and reached for him again. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to do more than just kiss him.
“Lois…”
As before when Clark had pulled her away from the kaleidoscope, Lois felt a veil of fog fall away from her mind. “Oh my God…” Lois breathed. “I’m under some sort of… spell!”
“I told you and Henderson I suspected there was subliminal programming in that video you were watching,” Clark said. “There may even have been drugs in the air of that room you were in.”
“So now anytime someone uses that phrase, I’ll do whatever I’m told?” She was shrieking but she didn’t care that Clark was wincing in pain.
"The moon and the stars command you to stop shrieking,” Clark said half-heartedly.
Lois didn’t care. “How dare you!” she continued screaming at him. “You… you…!” Then she realized his second order had no effect on her. Her mouth snapped shut and she flopped onto the sofa beside him. “It didn’t work.”
“Once you know what’s going on, it stops being as effective,” Clark explained. “And I’m pretty sure no one had a chance to do any real programming on you. Neither Romick nor Constance were out of my sight between the time you disappeared and the time Henderson showed up with his people.”
“You’re ‘pretty sure’ nobody had a chance?” she spat out, running her hand through her hair.
“Lo-is.”
“Okay, okay,” she conceded. "So, someone sends these powerful or famous people a videotape with these subliminal messages…"
"The tape or the package could be contaminated with a drug to make them susceptible," Clark suggested.
"They play the tape, get programmed…"
"But the actual orders come later, by phone or maybe a co-conspirator."
"Who in their right mind would order a base commander to launch missiles at an innocent city?" Lois asked.
"To prove they could," Clark answered.
"So the world will be getting a ransom demand any day now," Lois reasoned. It was logical. Show the world you can control generals, celebrities, world leaders and make them do anything you wish. Then demand a payoff to not do it.
"Well, they could be more subtle than that," Clark said. "Instead of demanding a ransom, they could simply order government and corporate leaders to give orders in their favor. Hand over bonds, reveal corporate and government secrets, overturn laws."
"And the rest of us wouldn't even know until it was too late." At some point in their conversation they had returned to the sofa. She turned to look him in the eyes. “Why did you order me to kiss you?”
His expression became more solemn. “You told Deter we were engaged.”
It was an odd deflection but Lois let it ride. “That was so he’d agree to let me stay,” Lois explained. “You know that.”
He nodded and Lois could almost see him come to a decision. “When Romick threw that cloth over you and you disappeared…" he began, "… it was like… I was afraid I’d never see you alive again. I’ve lost Superman, if that makes any sense, and I was afraid I'd lost you too… I just…”
“Clark, you’re my best friend,” Lois said. “And you know that somewhere deep inside me there was something that made me attracted to you while I was under that pheromone poison, although I still haven't figured out why you weren't effected."
"I don't know," Clark told her. "Maybe some people were simply immune. It's not like it went through FDA testing. We don't know the long term effects or side effects of being exposed to Miranda’s poison."
She still wasn't sure she believed his explanations but chose to shelve it for the moment. She sighed again. "Clark, I admit I'm attracted to you. But you're also my partner and my friend. I’m just worried that if we start something, if we go to the next level, we may not be able to go back if it doesn’t work out. I’ve watched the mess my parents made and Lucy, all her boy friends… I’m afraid we won’t be friends any more.”
“Lois, I can’t imagine not being your friend.”
“You say that now,” Lois said. “But afterwards…? You know what sort of federal disasters I've had. And I'm no good for you. This is the second time in six weeks you've gotten hurt because of me. Because someone was out to get me. If anything happened to you because of me, I couldn't live with myself."
"Lois, I'll be more careful," Clark promised.
"Clark, bullets bounced off Superman and he's dead," Lois said.
"I understand what you're saying," Clark said. "And I know you've been hurt in the past. But hear me out, okay?"
She nodded. His expression, his entire posture, was so earnest. "I'm sorry I did that to you, to test if you'd been programmed. But at the same time… was it so bad?"
She had to admit, it hadn't been bad at all. His kiss had been as electric as the one she remembered at the honeymoon suite of the Lexor. A soul searing, toe curling kiss that she wished could last forever. But forever wasn't going to last very long if he ended up doing something stupidly macho and wound up dead.
"It wasn't bad at all," Lois admitted aloud. "But I'm not sure I'm good for you. I know I occasionally run into situations before looking…"
This brought a smile to Clark's face. "Occasionally?"
"Okay, more than just occasionally. But so do you," Lois said in her own defense. "Clark, Superman isn't swooping down to the rescue any more. We both need to be more careful. Now, I do know how to defend myself. I have a first gup red belt in taekwondo and I really am working on my first dan black belt."
"A black belt won't stop a bullet," Clark reminded her.
"And you stepping in front of one and ending up dead won't help either."
"So, what do we do?"
"I don’t know," Lois admitted. "Try to be more careful?”
Clark snorted. “Like that’s going to happen…”
“And maybe you should take a self-defense course. I could take you to my dojang. Have you meet master Hong."
“Actually, I have a friend over in Chinatown whose grandfather runs a dojang. Chen and his sister’s been trying to talk me into taking lessons. Maybe I should take them up on their offer.” He was watching her but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
Her phone rang and Clark almost looked relieved by the interruption. Lois grabbed the phone. “Hello?”
“Lois?” Bill Henderson asked over the phone. “Is Clark with you?”
“Yes… Why?”
She heard a sigh.
“Nick and Rose Collins have gone missing.”
“What? When?”
“About the time we were picking up Romick and Blackthorn.”
“Oh my God,” she murmured. She looked over at Clark.
He was watching her, worry creasing his forehead. “I was right… This isn’t over.”
