I know, I still need to finish my ficathon story, but I'm already a week overdue with this update and didn't want to get any further behind. I really am terrible at regular posts.
Thanks to all of you that commented on the first two parts. I hope you continue to enjoy it.
TOC is
here . FDK is appreciated.
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From part 2:
“I don’t think I can protect you, sweetheart. Anyone finds out I’m goin’ against the Boss, it won’t be just my business in danger. No one escapes his wrath.”
My heart races with hope and trepidation in equal amounts. I know he will help me, but if someone of Louie’s stature is afraid of Lex, then I’ll have to be extra cautious from now on. I nod. “Don’t worry, Louie. I can take care of myself.” I hand him a list of supplies, a request for fake IDs and a stack of money. At his look, I reassure him. “Don’t worry, they’re clean. I’ve been all over town trading in the bills I filched from Lex’s safe.”
He takes a quick look at my list. “Consider it done.”
“Thanks, Louie. You get me these things and I can handle the rest myself. Can Maurice do the IDs by tomorrow night?”
Louie nods and smiles, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “Ladies and gentlemen, Lois Lane is back.” He tips his head toward the ceiling and whispers dramatically, “God help us all.”
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Master of Disguise - part 3
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I take a steadying breath and push open the bedroom door, sweeping out onto the terrace to nonchalantly join my husband for breakfast. The tension in my body leaches out at the sight of his empty chair and it makes me realize how tightly I’m wound. Even though I’m anxious to step up the next phase of my investigation, I sigh with relief at his absence. I don’t know how long I can keep up the pretense, playing the loving wife now that I know what kind of man my husband really is.
I note in passing that the table is set for two, which means he’ll be here any minute. Good. I’m not a patient woman and now that I have a plan, I want to move on it today. I sink down onto my chair and enjoy my usual meal of dry toast, fruit and coffee while I mull over the plan again in my mind. Just as I begin to review the LNN daily production schedule, Lex strolls in through the door from his office, Nigel trailing dutifully after.
“Good morning, Darling.” Lex leans down to kiss my cheek, which I offer up submissively. I force a pleasant smile to my lips and mask the revulsion I feel at his proximity. His habitual smile of self-satisfaction informs me that I’m successful. I take a deep breath - Showtime!
As Lex seats himself, I sigh in discomfort. He pauses in his descent and looks at me with concern. “Are you feeling alright this morning, my dear?”
I fix my expression to show a pathetic stoicism so unfamiliar to my usual demeanor. I feel transparent, but I get such a concerned response from Lex, that I must have been successful. Smiling inwardly at his reaction, I thank the heavens again for Mitchell. If it’s one thing I learned in my time dating a hypochondriac, it was how to look ill without actually suffering from a single ailment.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him. “It’s just a little headache.”
It’s a small deception that is critical to my sanity. The thought of being intimate with Lex now makes my skin crawl and any hint of illness tends to keep him at a distance.
His brows knit together in concern as he takes my hand in his, stroking it sympathetically. “That’s the third one this week. Perhaps you should see a physician. I’ll have you see Gretchen.” He pats my hand before releasing it and turns to receive his stack of morning newspapers from Nigel.
My pitiful sigh holds just a touch of exasperation. “Oh, no thank you, Lex. I don’t understand why, but I always end up feeling worse when she treats me. I’m sure I’ll be fine with some aspirin and a little extra rest.”
I stifle a laugh at the doubt that flashes across his face. I suspect that Gretchen is a past, if not current lover, and planting a seed of suspicion is a last-minute stroke of genius if I do say so myself. I enjoy the feeling of petty glee for a moment before chastising myself to concentrate on my next move. It won’t help me if he catches on to my game now.
Come on, Lane. Focus!
If I’ve learned anything about human nature from Lex, it’s that that once you really know a person, it’s easy to manipulate them. However, maneuvering someone as skilled as Lex is dangerous business. I know I have to threaten him, but not so much that he feels the need to get rid of me permanently.
I take a steadying breath and then curse softly under my breath to catch his attention.
“Lois?”
“Sorry, Lex. It’s just that … oh, I don’t want to bother you with my work troubles.”
“Darling, your problems are my problems. It’s my network, after all.”
“You’re right, I suppose. Well, I received a tip about a shadowy crime figure called ‘the Boss’. My source claimed that the Boss runs just about all of the criminal activity in Metropolis, but none of my reporters have been able to corroborate. They're either incompetent or it was a bum tip.”
A slight eye twitch is the only indication that I hit my mark. I press on before he can redirect me, giving him an out. “Most likely, my source was wrong and there is no crime lord. I mean, someone like that would need corrupt politicians and dirty cops on his payroll and I haven’t heard anything like that. I should probably face the fact that the lead was a bust. What do you think, Lex?”
“It sounds improbable to me, Darling. How reliable was the tip? Was it one of your regular sources?”
His smile is sympathetic, but my heart chills as he attempts to get me to name my source. No wonder Bobby and Louie are so tight-lipped about ‘the Boss’s’ criminal activities. God, if I hadn’t known what he was doing, I could have sent any one of my sources to their deaths. I grimace and shake my head.
“No, it was anonymous. That should have clued me into to its invalidity.”
At my look of disappointment, he pats my hand again. “Come, Lois, you can’t expect every conspiracy theory or rumor of corruption to be true?”
I grit my teeth at his condescending tone and nod. I want to knock his complacent visage off, but have to settle for giving him a mental kick to the solar plexus.
I turn back to my reports and continue to peruse them. ‘Let him chew on that for a while,’ I think. Moments later, I notice Lex’s agitated motions to Nigel. I strain to hear his urgent whispers while pretending deep concentration in my own papers.
“What is this,” Lex hisses.
I risk a sideways glance to see Lex pointing at his newspaper. I don’t know what’s in the paper, but I already know Lex doesn’t like to be blindsided by public information. Nigel skims the article, but his only response is to blink.
“It would appear that he’s being held without bail, sir.”
“I know that *now.* Why wasn’t I notified?”
“I didn’t know, sir. No one reported the bust.”
“Kent again,” came Lex’s furious whisper. He broods a moment before dismissing Nigel brusquely. “We have a leak, Nigel. Find it and plug it.”
“Yes, sir.”
I wait for Nigel’s quick departure before folding my paper and setting it aside. Seeing Lex’s furrowed brow, I place my hand over his and pose my concerned, yet innocent question. “Is something wrong, Lex?”
“No problem, Darling, just something I remembered for the board meeting this afternoon.”
I cock my head to see if I can decipher anything else from the newspaper. The San Francisco Chronicle’s headline ‘Domo linked to Prostitution Ring,’ makes Lex’s agitation clear. I suppress a smile – Kent has apparently disrupted another operation and Lex is scrambling to do damage control.
From the eavesdropping Jimmy and I had done so far, we’d already discovered that a rookie reporter named Clark Kent had been causing Lex considerable problems with his West Coast operations. Kent started working in San Francisco about six months ago, about the same time I’d married Lex. As just another cub reporter working the city beat at a newspaper across the country, he wasn’t anyone to notice. Unremarkable, that is, until I’d overheard Lex cursing his name. Anyone who can cause Lex trouble is worth noticing, so I did my homework.
The only son of Jonathan and Martha Kent, – wheat farmers from a middle-of-nowhere town called Smallville, Kansas – Clark Kent had graduated with a Journalism degree from Midwest while attaining both athletic and academic honors. For the past five years, he had worked as a freelance reporter, publishing articles in papers around the world, from the Borneo Gazette to the London Times.
Until he took the job at the Chronicle, he never seemed to stay anyplace longer than a month, except for a period just after the Nightfall incident. I couldn’t find any articles by him for a while after the close call with the asteroid, but he finally reappeared as the assistant editor for the Smallville Post. I suppose it made sense. With the end of the world looming, he’d gone home to be with his family – the perfect son.
I shake my head slightly at the thought. There had to be more to him. No one was as squeaky-clean, all-American, boy-next-door-ish as he sounded.
At work I had used the LNN library to peruse his past articles. His writing skills weren’t bad, although he didn’t have my hard-hitting edge. I started by reading his innocuous puff-pieces and I had to admit that Kent was very good at them, if you like that sort of touchy-feely thing. I smile wistfully as I remember Perry’s gruff voice chastising me about my attitude. ‘They’re human interest stories, Lois, and they help sell newspapers. Now git, and bring me back that mood piece for the afternoon edition.’
Recently, however, Kent had blossomed. Within the past month, he’d broken stories exposing Lex’s prostitution ring and one of his drug smuggling operations. If he can discover and expose criminal activities like that, then he is the one who can help me.
I grimace at that thought. It galls me to admit that I need more help than Jimmy can provide. I’d never needed a partner before, actually went out of my way to bury any partners Perry dared put me with, but things are different now. Given the deadly nature of this investigation, I need someone of Kent’s caliber to help me gather the evidence and put the pieces together, someone that isn’t in such a vulnerable position.
I had wished there was a way to observe Kent first hand, to find out if he’s trustworthy enough to bring him in on our investigation of Lex. I needed time and freedom for that, so I kept my eye open for a reason that would allow me to get away from Lex’s watchful eye without arousing his suspicions.
It was yesterday’s Sunday edition that solved my dilemma in the form of a spandex-clad, super-powered being.
Kent had bagged an exclusive interview with the unbelievable new hero just a few days after his amazing debut landing a crippled Boeing 747. I would have scoffed at the story had the entire rescue not been captured on camera. This man, or whatever he was, had actually flown up into the air, grabbed the plane with his bare hands, leveled it out and then descended with it softly and safely onto the tarmac. Before anyone could ask him any questions, he’d floated twenty feet up and hovered over the plane, gazed intently for a minute and then after nodding, disappeared. Tape replays had shown that he’d simply flown away very quickly, heading northwest until he escaped the camera’s view. He’d saved over three hundred people that day and simply flown away without a word. The next morning, LNN had dubbed the new hero ‘Superman’ and the name had stuck.
To put it mildly, I had been at once astounded and skeptical. However, as more and more reports came in about miraculous rescues from across the country and around the world, the reality of a super strong, super fast, flying man became incontrovertible. I had to admit, he looked very impressive on film and I itched to get out there to get the story myself.
While the world adored its new protector, Lex’s fascination with Superman was almost freaky in its intensity. For the first time since I’d known him, he had canceled business meetings and charity events to focus his inner circle on finding out everything they could about him. Enthralled, I had listened as Lex orchestrated test after test to gauge Superman’s strength, speed and morals – frustrated when he wasn’t always able to get Superman to respond.
It was Kent’s interview with Superman that gave me the final key to unlocking my investigation of Lex. I’m still unsure about Kent, though. If I hadn’t already known what a good investigative reporter he was, his interview of Superman would have given me serious concerns about his abilities. Frankly, if the subject hadn’t been so amazing, I would have labeled his front-page interview a PR piece.
Kent hadn’t asked the super-powered rescuer any tough questions, had simply called him ‘a friend’ that was ‘here to help.’ What had happened to the intelligent and insightful reporter? I could only assume that Kent had been completely overwhelmed by meeting the superhero in person. That, or Superman hadn’t stayed long enough to answer the tougher questions.
Lex tosses his paper aside with a grunt of disgust, startling me out of my ruminations. I reach over and pick it up, glancing at the front-page articles – the one about General Domo and another about Superman foiling an abduction attempt.
Lex is furious about Domo’s capture; I know it cost him millions of dollars when Kent broke the stories. Yes, with the unbelievable appearance of a comic book-type superhero and the rise of the Chronicle’s star investigative reporter, Lex has many reasons to be annoyed. Of course, Lex has no inkling that I know the true reason for his displeasure. Instead, I take advantage of the other article. It’s the opportunity I’ve been waiting for; I start to rant.
“Can you believe this rag?” I ask incredulously. “A super-powered being magically appears and no one thinks to ask him where he came from, how long he’s been here or even questions his motives. Where does he live? Is he alone? Is he an alien, a genetic experiment or a man enhanced with robotics – you know, like the boxers my father worked on…?”
Lex looks up at me, taken aback by my non sequitur. His eyes flick down to the newspaper in my hand and darken in barely controlled anger, the cold empty hatred broadcasting his true nature. My God, how could I have missed all of the clues before? I hide a shudder by tossing the paper to the table and then wave my hands dramatically to bring his gaze back to me. Now that I have Lex’s attention, I mimic some of his own suppositions back at him.
“Fighting for truth and justice? What kind of weak response is that? Why hasn’t anyone discovered his true agenda? Someone needs to get to the truth behind the cape and find out why he’s really here. If he decides to turn against us, we don’t know if he even has any weaknesses.”
I continue to fume about poor quality journalism that Perry would never have accepted at the Daily Planet and begin planning my attack to expose Superman when Lex clears his throat. I stop talking immediately, remembering to look appropriately chagrined.
“Sorry,” I apologize meekly. “I guess I got carried away. It’s just that, if I were still on the beat, I *know* I could find out the truth.”
“I’m sure you could, my dear. You were the best.”
I smile at the compliment and his indulgent grin before glancing down at my watch. It’s getting late and I’ve planted the seed. It’s up to Lex now whether my boast will grow into anything. I lift my notes from the table as I stand.
“Oh, well, who has time to chase Superman across the country when there’s important work to be done right here in Metropolis?”
I give Lex a cheerful peck on the lips and walk away. ‘Please, please, please,’ I chant inwardly. ‘Take the bait.’ I pause at the doorway to the bedroom and glance back, but Lex is still as a statue, a gargoyle staring down from his castle heights. I grab my bag and coat, trying not to be disappointed before heading toward the private elevator.
I jab my finger into the button and wait impatiently, my mind alternately trying to concoct another plan whilst the mantra continues to roll through my mind. ‘Take the bait, Lex. Come on, take the bait you son of a b…’ Lex calls my name. My heart flutters and I smother a triumphant grin before turning to face him.
“Lois? One thing I forgot to mention. I received a call from Jim Bradley yesterday about his ratings.”
“Jim Bradley,” I murmur, trying to place name, “The LNN news director in San Francisco?”
“Yes. It seems he’s having quality issues with his team. I can’t fit a trip into my schedule so I’m hoping you can help me. You’re the real expert on reporting the news anyway. I realize it’s an inconvenience, but may I have Mrs. Cox schedule a trip for you this afternoon?”
“Of course, Lex.” I nod, beaming in honest pleasure at his request before I step into the lift. He places his hand along the frame to keep the door open.
“And if you *do* happen to get that Superman exposé while you’re there, I won’t complain.”
He leans in and gives me another kiss – the last if I can help it. Everything has come together. Now I just need the evidence to put him away forever. I hope Clark Kent is the one to help me do it. I wave as the doors close between us.
“Goodbye, Lex.”
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tbc...
