Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic All the Daytime and the Nighttime, 2/?

Chapter 2

Quickly Clark brushed the shards of glass off his hands into the large bar trash bucket. He ignored the crunching sounds from the shards that had fallen to the floor as he moved around behind the bar, simultaneously filling orders and trying to figure out why he was so flustered. His hearing was still tuned to Toni and he heard her say, “Lex Luthor, may I present Miss Lola Dane, our new Metro Club songstress. Lola, this is…”

Lola cut in, “Lex Luthor. Of course, who doesn’t know the famous Lex Luthor.” Why did the sultry purr in her voice cut icicles into Clark’s spine? With that, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Luthor’s table. Toni rose smoothly, gesturing elegantly to her chair. “Here, Lola. Join Mr. Luthor.” She turned to Luthor and apologized, “I must excuse myself. Work never stops.” Was that a wink she just gave Luthor?

*+*+*+*+*+*+
There was dead silence in the police situation room as Henderson and Gomez avidly watched the monitors.

“Oh, I wish we had a bug at that table,” Henderson finally muttered.

“Maybe Kent does?” Gomez asked hopefully.
*+*+*+*+*+*+

Clark Kent didn’t have a bug, but he did have his hearing. Unfortunately, none of that was admissible in court because it was just his word. There had been a bug on the underside of Toni’s drink glass, but the ever efficient Syble, hoping for a big Luthor-size tip, had cleared it early and Toni hadn’t wanted another drink. So there was something there, but he wouldn’t know what it was until he got it to MPD and they read and logged it. The band was still playing and Lola’s back was to him, so he really couldn’t hear what was happening with the band and surrounding noise. Luthor look pleased, whatever it was. That made Clark unpleased for some reason.

Clark decided it was time to leave his post at the bar and get new supplies of the popular labels. His path around the room allowed him to look at the front of Lola and Luthor. She was talking and daringly patting his hand. He looked quite entranced. Clark gathered the needed bottles and returned to the bar on the reverse path. Suddenly, the band, which had been playing soft jazz, struck up the fanfare again and the announcer said, “And here she is again, the beautiful, the popular, Miss Lola Dane!” With a final pat of Luthor’s hand, Lola walked back to the microphone. Clark stored his bottles and began filling orders again at the bar. He turned sideways to look at Lola full on as she snapped her fingers in rhythm and began:
What? Was she channeling Ella Fitzgerald tonight?

Oh god, she was smiling at Luthor!

She cast a gesture and a wink at Luthor. Could she be more obvious about…something? Clark hoped steam wasn’t coming out of his ears.

The band built the tempo, Lola leaned close to the mic until she was almost touching it and finished in a sultry purr:

Clark reached up to his forehead, then looked in puzzlement at his fingers. Was he sweating? The waitresses were lined up at the bar staring in amazement at Lola.
With a graceful bow and a blown kiss, Lola walked regally offstage.
The rest of the evening was a blur for Clark. He did notice Toni and Johnny in a tux going into the office. Several other very large and well-dressed gentlemen followed them in at discrete intervals. He needed to get a bug into that office. Even with his hearing, he couldn’t hear anything over the noise of the room.

*+*+*+*+*+*+
“Kent’s got to be dead on his feet. My butt’s dead just sitting here,” Gomez muttered to himself, still staring at the monitors. Henderson had left when Luthor left the club around 11 p.m. The kitchen had closed at midnight and the bar was closing now at 2 a.m.
Kent was cleaning up, washing and polishing the glasses, setting the liquor bottles back in their places and getting ready to lower the gate over the back of the bar. The band was packing up its instruments.

Toni had disappeared into the office after Luthor left. And there was no sign of Lois Lane. What was she up to? A story on Luthor, obviously. But why and what about?

Gomez sighed in relief as Kent walked to the back with the cash box from the bar, turning off the lights as he went. No lights, no need for him to watch monitors.
*+*+*+*+*+*+

It was nearly 3 a.m. as Clark walked back to his flop at the Apollo. All in all, he was relatively pleased with his day’s work. After Toni had reimbursed him for his damaged clothes, he had bought a new dinner jacket. He now kept it at the Metro Club, since walking the streets of Metropolis at 3 a.m. in a fancy jacket was not the wisest thing to do, no matter who you were and what you could do. In the process of storing and changing clothes to jeans and a sweater, he had managed to drill a hole in the wall between the kitchen and the Metro Club office with his laser vision. He could see it was a spacious office, equipped for large conferences. He planted his bug on the office side of the hole. Hopefully tomorrow he would have more information on their plans for the Riverfront area. The world saw Lex Luthor as a great philanthropist, but Clark’s superiors had intelligence from overseas that indicated a large part of his fortune was from illegal activities. His job was to collect the evidence that would stand up in court.
With backup from the Metropolitan Police Department, he remembered.

Clark was passing an alleyway one block from the Apollo, when he felt a sharp object in his ribs and a low voice say “Your wallet. Now!” He must have been daydreaming, or night dreaming considering the time, to not hear them before they actually attacked him.

Clark sighed and moved to face what turned out to be three guys, one with a gun. He slowly lifted his hands.

“O.K. It’s in my back pocket.” Slowly he reached down to pull out his wallet with his fake I.D. and credit card and real money. Oh, he hoped they used the fake credit card. They’d be in jail so fast their heads would spin. Carefully removing the wallet with his index and middle fingers, he held it up for them to see. The guys were as scruffy looking as expected in this neighborhood. Second Guy, who reached for the wallet and evidently had more curiosity, said, “So what’yer doin’ out so late at night?”

Shrugging eloquently, Clark replied. “I’m a bartender at the Metro Club. Just got off work.”

Clark was astonished to see that at the words “Metro Club”, all three guys turned white as sheets and Second Guy threw the wallet down on the ground and pleaded “Forget it. We weren’t here. We’re ghosts.” With that, the trio turned and fled deeper into the alley.

Clark shook his head in surprise, picked up his wallet and without further incident, reached his room. Even he was tired after such a long day. But he had important things to do. At the small table in his room he set out a pad of drawing paper and grabbed a soft pencil. Super quickly he sketched Lola’s face. Then he got up and reached for the battered suitcase under his bed and removed the small computer and hooked it directly to the payphone in his room and dialed his office in Quantico. He fed the sketch into the scanner and sent the image to his office computer. Face recognition software didn’t normally work with sketches; it was photograph to photograph. But he had modified the software to work from his sketches. He waited impatiently while the computer searched. Finally, four names popped up on his small screen, but only one lived in Metropolis. That person was Lois Lane, a reporter for the Daily Planet. Why hadn’t he recognized such a prominent person? Then he remembered that the Daily Planet didn’t print pictures or sketches of its reporters to preserve their anonymity for undercover work.

Wow. Clark was close to flummoxed. He had expected an entertainer of some note, not a reporter. An undercover reporter looking into doings at the Metro Club and most likely targeting Lex Luthor. Did he have an ally or an enemy? What was his plan now? Tomorrow he would try to find out what Toni knew about “Lola.” But first he had to get the bug from under Toni’s glass to MPD.

*+*+*+*+*+*+

Clark was at the Metro Club at 10 a.m. sharp, before the 11 a.m. opening, and, more significantly, before the morning trash pick-up. He walked to the storage room and found a Glenlivit tin, removed the bottle and put his envelope containing the small bug inside, then walked out to the trash area. He lifted his glasses and examined the trash in each of two bins, then threw the Glenlivit tin box into the vegetable bin, where it would stand out. Satisfied, he brushed his hands together and smiled. He was walking back in, when he noticed someone, clearly a woman, moving the plates from in front of the hole he had drilled last night. She had turned to head to listen to the conversation on the other side and was looking away from him. He levitated so he wouldn’t make noise, passed her and went back to the locker area, pretending to be getting ready for work. As if he had just arrived at his locker he stood with arms crossed, ready for her to turn around and see him. At the same time he was listening to the argument in the room beyond.

Johnny said, “Rocko, you tell the Robertson boys they got one week to pay up, then you take care of it. Next, Lou, numbers, what's the take this week?”

Lou replied, “The numbers are down this week, Johnny. There’s less street traffic because of the fires. We still have our high payers, but that’s not enough. We need to talk about the fires.”

Johnny shot back, “So, you want to run the meeting now, Lou?”

Clark could see through the wall that Lou shook his head and fell silent.

Johnny continued with finality, “Then shut up and worry about your own problems, like getting revenue up before I give Briggs your territory.”

Silence fell, and then Toni, dressed in a very sharp business suit, spoke up. “Johnny, Lou’s right, I think we should discuss these fires.”

Heads nodded in agreement around the table, but nobody spoke up.

Johnny turned abruptly to his sister and spit out, “You got something to say, save it
for later!”

“If I've got something to say, why shouldn't I say it now?”

”Because you don't talk at meetings, that's why.”

“Maybe I should start.”

Johnny said to the group “You hear that?” He turned back to Toni with anger in his voice “Let me tell you something, Miz M.B.A. All that piece of paper means around here is -- do the books and stay out of business.”

Toni retorted equally vehemently, “Stay out and watch it go down the drain you mean.”

Clark noticed that the six men were looking anywhere but at Toni and Johnny. Slowly
Toni rose to her feet and leaned in to the table, tapping the table for emphasis.

”Ever since Papa died I've sat back and watched my brothers run this organization. First Tommy, who didn't stay alive long enough to do much damage, then Gus, who we won't see for another two hundred and forty years, even with good behavior. And now you, Johnny.”

Toni looked at each of the men at the table in turn. “We're inefficient, we're misdirected, we're a fraction of what we could be if only we concentrated on real business instead of this nickel and dime gangster stuff. Look at us. We're more interested in the new lounge act than in preserving the family legacy. What would Papa say?”


“Papa would tell you to find a good husband, start havin' some babies and leave the real work to the men.”


“That's what he did tell me, Johnny. Only he didn't realize that you would all destroy it.”

With that, Johnny pulled out his gun. “I'm still the head of this organization, and don't you forget it!”

He fired multiple shots into the wall above Toni’s head but she didn’t flinch. The woman at the peep hole dove for cover. Clark just stood and continued watching. He heard Toni have the last word. “Just what we need. A cool head in charge.”

The mysterious woman came up from her crouch, uncovered her ears and stood there staring wide-eyed at Clark.

Clark wasn’t surprised to find he was looking at Lola.

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tbc