From Part 6 ...
Lois walked past the still-buzzing circus. A quick glance to the notice board told her the opening performance was scheduled for two o’clock tomorrow afternoon.
Lois continued walking, her attention carefully diverted from the circus.
Should she come back tomorrow?
Would she just be walking into an elaborate trap? She realised she didn’t care. If this was the only way to get to Clark – so be it. It would be worth it to know he was safe. And together, they could deal with anything.
But what if she led someone to their meeting and blew Hodge’s cover?
Lois walked back to the Planet, her mind afire with a hundred ideas and two hundred counter ideas.
But this was better … this was infinitely more bearable than knowing nothing.
She had a lead … and it would lead her to Clark. She had to believe that.
She would find him …. if she had to scour every inch of this city … this nation …. this entire planet, she *would* find him.
Part 7
By the time Lois exited the elevator at the Planet, she had decided she would be at the circus tomorrow at two o’clock. And she had already pieced together most of how she was going to achieve it.
Without being tracked.
She had one more piece of information from Hodge. Lois picked up her pencil and notepad and tape recorder and went to the storeroom.
In the storeroom, she unlocked her drawer in the filing cabinets and sorted through her disks and tapes. She found the tape of the Hodge interview and put it in her recorder. She plugged in the earphones and pressed play.
She listened to the tape, searching for anomalies – quickly realising the entire interview was one big anomaly.
But there was nothing specific ... nothing she could link to her current situation.
Could the verse in the card be a pointer? Just like the picture of the lake pointed to the fishing notices?
Lois rewound the tape and listened again, writing the first letter of the first word of each of Hodge’s answers to her questions.
USELLCKGETSM
U sell, CK gets M
Could ‘M’ mean murdered?
Sell what?
U sell CK, get SM?
If she was to ‘sell’ ... betray? ... give up? ... Clark, she would get Superman back?
If she didn’t pursue Clark’s disappearance, Superman would come back?
Lois took the tape from the recorder, replaced it in her drawer and carefully locked it. She ripped the top page and the next five pages from her notepad and left the storeroom. At the paper shredder, she pushed all six pages through it.
Back at her computer, she opened her email account. For the next hour, Lois re-read every email that had passed between her and Clark, looking for any slip, anything either of them had said that could threaten Clark’s secret.
Her tears rose more than once, as she read his emails to her. Even when they were about a story, he’d managed to slip in a line that told her how much he treasured her. She could almost hear his quiet, loving voice as she read his words. Anyone reading them would have no doubt about their relationship.
His last email to her, sent Friday afternoon before their date, broke the dam, and her tears gushed.
She read it again. ‘Whenever we’re apart, your farmboy misses his honey.’
It was a reference to her bracelet and the farmboy charm. The first time she'd read it, she hadn't known the significance, but now, she could imagine Clark’s smile as he wrote it.
And she had no doubt he *was* missing her. Desperately.
Lois dried her tears, drawing comfort from the fact there was nothing in any of the emails that would indicate either of them had more than the public knowledge of Superman. Nothing ... not even an oblique reference to super-activities such as chasing multiple sunrises or whizzing to a foreign country for breakfast.
When the Man of Steel was mentioned, it was purely in passing, in the context of a story they were writing. There was nothing to suggest Lois was in love with Superman. Nothing to suggest Superman returned her love.
Lois sighed and threw her damp tissue into the trash.
She needed these touches from Clark – his journal, his emails – but ultimately all they did was remind her of what was missing from her life.
Something else occurred to her. If they had access to her emails, they would know she loved Clark. If she was being watched, they would expect her to react to his disappearance.
What would be a normal reaction?
Would not going to the police seem suspicious?
She shrank away from that. Could she trust the police? She could trust Inspector Henderson, she was almost sure. Although Clark had hinted that he thought Henderson was more than just a city cop ... that maybe Henderson worked covertly in areas similar to Hodge.
So if Henderson wasn’t what she’d always assumed ... she certainly wasn’t going to trust someone she barely knew.
And anyway, what could she say? ‘Clark Kent is missing.’ That would lead to her being asked other questions ... questions she couldn’t answer with any real honesty. And if she highlighted the fact that Clark was missing, how long before someone realised Superman hadn't been seen either?
No ... she couldn’t go to the police.
So she needed an explanation. And if they had her bugged, it wasn’t going to be difficult to feed them information. She just needed to decide what information.
“Lois!” Perry’s voice scythed across the newsroom.
With a sinking heart, Lois went to his office.
“Where’s Clark?” Perry growled.
Lois took an elongated breath. “Chasing a story.”
Perry glared at her. “And whatever I ask, you’re sticking to that?” he barked.
She stared at him, head still, and said nothing.
His exasperation receded. “Lois, if you or Clark are in any sort of trouble ...”
Illogically, his concern was harder to take than his animosity. Lois swallowed. “We’re fine,” she uttered throatily.
Perry accepted her answer grimly. “I have a *real* story and you *are* going to write it.”
Lois nodded.
“There’s been something of a mini crime wave in Metropolis the past two days – unprecedented numbers of burglaries, break-ins, nothing too big, but in huge numbers. And mostly by amateurs with very little idea – like the attempt on the Met Bank yesterday.”
“I’ll talk to Henderson,” Lois suggested.
Perry contemplated her for a long, very uncomfortable moment. “Where’s your ring?” he said wearily.
“At home.”
Perry took a deep, frustrated breath. “Get the story, get it written and get it to me,” he ordered.
+-+-+-+
Between Perry’s office and her desk, Lois had formulated a plan, including deciding she would call Henderson instead of visiting the police station.
If they wanted to bug her, she could play the game too.
She dialled and asked to speak with Inspector Henderson. She asked all the right questions about the increased number of burglaries and scribbled the details on her pad. With the interview done – without even an allusion to Superman - Lois said, “Just letting you know, Bill, I’m not working with Clark Kent anymore, so I’d appreciate it if you worked directly with me on this one.”
“You’re not working with Clark anymore?” Henderson sounded surprised.
“No,” she said curtly.
“I ... I thought things were good with you two ... professionally ... and personally.”
“You thought wrong.” Henderson probably wasn’t the nosy type, unless it involved a case, so Lois hurried on. “He’s left. I haven’t heard from him. I don’t expect to either.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“The question is not ‘where he is?’, but with ‘who is he with?’”
“Who is he with?” Henderson parroted.
“Clark Kent ...” Lois scoffed. “Clark Kent, is with little Sally Smallville – his High School squeeze.”
She heard Henderson’s quick intake of breath. “*Who*?” he gasped.
“Some small-town bimbo wiggled her tush in Kent’s direction and he’s ... gone.”
“Gone?”
“Oh, it’s nothing terribly original,” Lois said cuttingly. “He realised, like a million men before him, that his needs are greater below the belt than above the neck.”
“How did you find out?”
“I have more contacts and sources than you’ve had hot dinners, Henderson,” she bragged. “How do you *think* I found out?”
“Have you spoken with him?” he asked. Henderson sounded as if this news had genuinely shocked him.
“He isn’t man enough to actually tell me himself of course,” Lois said with a level of venom she privately thought was quite impressive.
“Where is he?”
“Dunno,” she said dismissively. “Not in Metropolis, that’s for sure. Not in Smallville, he’s too spineless to face his parents, I would imagine.”
“So you don’t actually know where he is?”
“No. And I’m certainly not going to waste a second of my time looking for him. Let him serve a life sentence with Sally Smallville.”
“I didn’t expect Clark ... would do that.”
“He’s male, isn’t he?” Lois said with dripping scorn. “Keep in touch, Henderson. With me.”
They hung up and Lois replaced her phone. Outside, she wore a fragile veil of composure. Inside she was shaking violently.
Her story about Clark wouldn’t stand up to much investigation, but she wasn’t sure it needed to. All she needed was a reason why she wasn’t informing everyone – Perry, friends, his parents and the police - that Clark Kent was missing.
And, she realised with real regret, she’d done nothing for Clark’s reputation.
But once he was back in her arms, that wouldn’t matter at all.
+-+-+-+
Lois wrote up the crime-wave story and emailed it to Perry. She slipped from her desk and to the elevator, hoping to avoid further attention. She did - other than a disdainful stare from Cat which Lois was sure had everything to do with her choice of clothes.
Half an hour later, Lois entered the hospital café. The diners were split – very obviously. There were the visitors and there were the hospital employees. While waiting to place her order, Lois noticed a nurse sitting by herself. Once Lois had her coffee, she sidled into the chair across from the solitary nurse. She glanced up, then immediately returned to reading her magazine.
“Hi,” Lois said.
“Hi,” she replied, her voice and her body language unmistakably communicating her desire to be left alone.
“Uhmmm ... could I ask you something?” Lois said, in a whiny drawl.
The nurse’s sigh was poorly concealed, but she did look up.
“This is kinda embarrassing,” Lois said. ”But I need a nurse’s uniform.”
The nurse’s eyebrows lifted slowly.
Lois hurried on. “I’m going to a fancy dress party ... and there’s this guy ... and he’s *very* hot ... but, like, he hasn’t noticed me at all ... and my friend told me he’s going as a surgeon ... so I’m thinking it would be cool to go as a nurse ...”
Understanding crept into the nurse’s expression.
“So I thought if you, like, brought a spare blouse to work ... could I buy it?”
“They cost thirty-five dollars new.”
Lois took her purse from her bag. “I can pay for it.”
The nurse shrugged. “OK, come with me.”
Ten minutes later, Lois walked out of the hospital with a nurse’s blouse folded in her bag.
+-+-+-+
From the hospital, Lois went to her apartment and called Perry.
“Where are you?” he said, his annoyance sizzling down the line. “And why haven’t you been answering your cell?”
“Perry,” Lois said complaisantly. “I’m sorry about everything ... but there’s something I need to tell you.”
There was a pause. Lois could picture Perry, his irritation tempered by concern. “What is it, Lois?” he asked, more gently.
“I’ve just been to the hospital and it seems I need a ... a procedure done urgently. Tomorrow.”
“A procedure?” he said, all traces of irritation gone now. “You’re OK, aren’t you, darlin’?”
Lois hated lying to him. “I’ll be fine, Perry,” she said brightly. “It’s just a little thing I need to have done.”
The silence buzzed through the phone. She heard Perry clear his throat. “Lois?” he said, with more uncertainty than she had ever heard from her editor.
“Yes.”
“You’re not ... I mean ... Henderson called ... and I spoke to him because you weren’t here ... and Kent’s name came up ... and ...” There was a long silence. “You’re not pregnant, are you? With Clark’s child? And you’re not going to ...”
“No!” A wave of dismay washed over Lois. It hadn’t occurred to her that what she had told Henderson would reach Perry. “No,” she said, more calmly.
“You’d tell me if it was serious?” Perry said quietly.
“It’s not serious,” she insisted. “And it’s not what you’re thinking. It’s just a little thing I need fixed. I need tomorrow off.”
“Of course, darlin’,” Perry said gently. “Take a few days. Whatever you need.”
“I’m trying to keep it quiet, Perry,” Lois said. “It’s personal. I don’t want any visitors. I’ve even booked in under another name.” She forced a humourless laugh. “I wouldn’t want the National Inquisitor getting hold of it.”
Perry didn’t respond to her attempted joke. Lois knew him well enough to know he was either worried about her or he wondered if she was being completely truthful.
Neither sat well with her.
For the first time, she realised the full implications of Clark’s secret. It did force you to lie, to cover, to tell half-truths. If Clark was a normal man, this would have been a simple disappearance – distressing, but without the overwhelming complications.
For starters, she wouldn’t have to work alone.
This had been the Kents’ life for so many years.
She should call them.
She couldn’t.
Not if there was the slightest chance her phone was bugged. She realised Perry was speaking.
“ ... care of yourself, Lois.”
“Thanks, Chief.”
Lois hung up, made herself a cup of coffee and took it into her bedroom. She really couldn’t face eating.
She wrote down the letters from Hodge’s interview again.
U sell CK get SM.
USELLCKGETSM.
She doodled with her pencil across the letters.
Use LL CK get SM.
They were going to use *both* her and Clark to get Superman?
Which meant they *didn’t* know Clark was Superman.
But how exactly did they intend to use her?
Take Clark, track her to see if she had contact with Superman?
Were they waiting for Superman to rescue Clark?
Did they plan to jeopardise her safety to lure Superman?
Then what? Capture him?
Just like that?
Would Superman come? He hadn’t responded to the plethora of petty crimes, but if he knew she was in danger, she could not imagine him staying away.
Unless the threat of harm to her was what was keeping him imprisoned.
Lois tossed away her pen in frustration and succumbed to her pent-up anxiety. While she was chasing leads, it had been possible to push her creeping dread to the far corners of her mind, to immerse herself in the case.
But the reality was that Clark, her Clark, her partner, her friend, her fiancé, her strength, her comfort, her ballast ... had gone ... and she had no idea where.
She missed him so much, she ached.
Tired and drained, Lois dragged herself to her kitchen and forced herself to microwave a frozen dinner.
Then, infinitely more difficult, she forced herself to eat it. Most of it.
Whatever tomorrow brought, she would be better able to help Clark if she wasn’t hungry.
Her phone rang as Lois cleaned up after her meal. She stared at it for a long moment before picking it up. “Lois Lane.”
“Lois, it’s Sarah,” came the buoyant greeting. “How are you, Ms Engaged?”
“I’m great.”
“You don’t sound great.”
Lois seized the first explanation that entered her head. “I have to go to the hospital for a procedure tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Now Sarah was concerned about her as well. “Nothing serious, I hope.”
“No, nothing serious.” Lying to friends was becoming a habit. “I’ll be fine.”
“Is Clark going with you?”
“No, he’s ... away.”
“What time will you be finished?”
That she didn’t know. It depended on what happened during the meeting. Assuming there *was* a meeting. “Five o’clock?” Lois estimated.
“I’ll send my driver to pick you up and take you home.”
“Really, there’s no –.”
“It’s no trouble,” Sarah assured her. “His name is Hank. He’s completely trustworthy and the epitome of discretion. Sees everything, says nothing. He’s an old Dutchman, has worked for the -”
“What if I’m not finished by five?”
“Have you got a pen? I’ll give you his number.”
Lois wrote down the number. She needed to get Sarah off the phone. The more they said, the more likely something would be said that could be used by whoever may be listening. “I need to go.”
“OK. We’ll catch up soon. Good luck tomorrow.”
“Thanks.”
Twenty minutes later, Lois, exhausted from her sleepless night, crawled into bed and opened Clark’s journal.
August 30, 9am
I kissed Lois.
August 30, 10pm
The afternoon papers trumpeted the fall of Luthor, but only the Daily Planet had the story this morning.
Our story ... Lois’s and mine. Our first big story together.
Very early this morning, Superman rescued Lois from Luthor’s tunnel. Luthor had told Lois I’d been shot. Her relief ... joy ... at discovering I am alive is something I will never forget.
Maybe ...
Could it be possible ...
She asked me to kiss her. On her mouth.
I have replayed it a million times in my mind and it still leaves me breathless.
I took her home. She accessed my computer by deducing my password.
I should change it.
But I won’t.
September 15
Tomorrow I’m taking Lois on a date.
A date.
A man-and-woman, this-could-be-serious date.
It’s serious, all right.
It has been since the moment I met her.
But does she feel the same?
September 20
The funeral is tomorrow.
I wish I knew how to help Lois through this.
She is hurting so much. I can see her pain in the confusion in her eyes and the hopelessness in her body language and the isolation in her face.
And there is nothing I can do to make this easier for her. Not one thing.
I want to hold her and not let go until all of my strength has poured into her and made this bearable for her.
September 29
I miss you.
My heart misses you so much, it has to be reminded to beat.
My arms ache to hold you.
You felt so good, your small body pressed against mine, your arms wrapped around my neck, your sweet breath on my cheek. And kissing you was like tasting heaven. I would give up everything to hold you one more time. To be whole again ... even for a second.
I dream about you. Every night. And every morning I wake up and grieve that I lost you.
I miss you.
I miss you.
I wonder ... if I write it enough times, will the hurting stop?
The world would run out of ink first.
October 4
I want to go to her.
I fight it every second of every day.
I can’t go to her.
I know what will happen if I do – she will repeat what she’s already told me – that we have no future together. And that would be like a machete to my heart.
But that’s not the reason I can’t go.
I can’t go because seeing me will re-open her wounds – wounds that I hope have begun to heal.
I have to leave her alone – and hope she can find a way through her grief ... and the pain I caused her.
October 14
Yesterday, the door opened and there she was. Lois.
At first, I was sure my tortured mind had conjured her from the depths of my loneliness. Then her eyes met mine and the jolt of our connection was so powerful, it had to be real.
Lois loves me!
She still loves me!
I have kissed her again and held her again and told her I love her again and looked into her gorgeous brown eyes and been totally captivated again.
She asked me to marry her.
SHE asked ME!
From the moment I met her, I’ve known. I still know.
Without Lois, my life is nothing.“Without you, Clark,” Lois whispered. “My life is nothing either.”
+-+-+-+
Early the next afternoon, Lois walked into the hospital and took the elevator to the day patients’ floor. Once there, she went into the female bathrooms and changed into the nurse’s blouse, a pair of navy blue pants and flat shoes.
She fixed her hair into a tight roll at the back of her head and slipped on a pair of sunglasses.
Lois went to the nearest elevator and entered the first one that arrived. For five minutes, she rode up and down, getting out at random floors, changing elevators. Only someone with x-ray vision could have tracked her movements.
A few minutes after two o’clock, she crossed the ground floor of the hospital and walked casually into the weak sunshine. She turned left and headed to the field where the circus had set up.
The last of the spectators were trickling into the big top. Clowns congregated near the entrance making balloon figures for the children. Excited laughter and the aroma of hot buttered popcorn hung in the air.
Lois circled the huge tent and saw the group of caravans dotted throughout various animal enclosures. As the music began inside the tent, signalling the start of the show, Lois noticed a temporary corral with a saddle resting on the top rail. Before she could decide what to do next, she felt a hand on her shoulder and someone turned her into his body.
A mouth came down on hers, a mouth surrounded by a bushy beard.
She struggled to pull away.
His mouth left hers and his strong arms clamped her against him. “Stop fighting and be glad to see me,” he hissed against her ear.
His lips came back on hers, unmoving and aloof, and Lois subdued the impulse to squirm. She’d managed only the briefest glimpse of him – enough to see a large hat, a lot of facial hair and an eye-patch over his right eye.
After a few seconds, he backed away, grabbed her hand and pulled her to the nearest caravan. He opened the door, stepped back and pushed her into the dimness.
He followed her and shut the door. Lois removed her sunglasses and when he turned, she saw his face for the first time. Even with the wild beard, she recognised him immediately.
“Fr –.”
Hodge’s hand shot to her mouth. His forefinger rose against his lips to caution her to be quiet. She tried to nod her understanding. His hand fell away from her face.
He reached into the interior pocket of his shabby vest and took out a small black box with a series of LEDs along the top. He floated the device the length of her body and around her bag.
There was no response, either audibly or visually.
Hodge turned off the device, removed his hat and pushed the eye patch back from his face. “I’m sorry about ...” He gestured out the door, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “No one is listening, not electronically, so you can sp -”
“Where’s Clark? Is he all right?”
“He’s alive.”
Something in Hodge’s tone twisted Lois’s heart. “*Alive*?” she breathed. “Is he hurt?”
Hodge wouldn’t meet her eyes.
So Clark *had* found a way to feign vulnerability.
“Do you remember the third person in our interview?” Hodge said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Lois nodded.
“His name is Jason Trask. He’s in the business I used to be in. We never worked the same assignments; I avoided him – he’s always been volatile and unpredictable.”
“Does he have Clark?”
“Trask believes Superman is part of an alien invasion and -”
“That’s not true! He’s –.”
“Sshh!”
“Sorry.”
Hodge pulled his hand through his unkempt hair. “Trask believes there were many babies sent here, to different parts of the world; that they have secret ways to communicate and their purpose is to conquer our planet and massacre the entire human race.”
Lois scowled at Hodge. “That’s ridiculous,” she said scathingly.
“Actually, it’s not,” Hodge countered. “The premise is sound.” He saw her glare and hurried on. “If they had the capability to send one baby, why send only one knowing that would guarantee their eventual extinction? Why not send more, both males and females?”
“Do *you* believe there are others?”
“I don’t know,” Hodge admitted. “But Trask believes they’ve spent the past twenty-five years maturing to full strength, covertly gathering information and planning their attack. He thinks the appearance of Superman is a strategy to lull us into overlooking how easily their powers could be used against us.”
“Superman’s heart is justice and peace, not destruction and domination,” Lois declared.
“Which is beyond Trask’s comprehension.”
Lois sucked in a shuddery breath. “What’s he planning to do?” she asked.
“Trask is convinced the only way to protect our planet is to murder Superman. To demonstrate to the others that we are not defenceless and vulnerable.”
“Murder Superman?” Lois was suspended between fear and scepticism. “That’s not possible.”
“Anything’s possible, Lois,” Hodge said with weary conviction. “When an evil man is driven by mindless fear and rampant paranoia.”
Lois felt an icy chill slither down her spine. “How do you know about this?” she asked suspiciously.
“Trask has three men who work closely with him. One of them is feeding out information to me. If Trask gets even the slightest hint of a leak, or that I’m still involved, he’ll kill them.”
“So Trask wants Superman,” Lois concluded, careful to keep her tone even. “But I don’t understand what this has to do with Clark. Why take *him*?”
Hodge’s blue eyes probed hers. “Because Trask doesn’t believe for one moment that Clark Kent is just a city reporter.”
+-+-+-+
The bug detector ...
http://www.spyassociates.com/spy-hawk-pro-rf-phone-tap-detector-p-1962.html
