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Chapter 12: Determination
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Time was running out. Perry could feel it slipping through his fingers like water, impossible to grab hold of or take back. While his boys had been children, he had acted like he had all the time in the world, but he was older and wiser now and he knew there might not be another chance. If he didn't find Lois and Clark--and soon--it would be too late. Too late to say all the things he should have said before. Too late to make them take time out from work to enjoy life.
Too late to ask them for forgiveness of his complicity in their pain.
"Okay, look." Jimmy recaptured Perry's wandering attention by pointing to the computer screen in front of him. Except for a janitor in the background, the newsroom was totally empty, Jimmy's computer the only one casting light across the abandoned desks. "Here's the address where the sham sales company is supposedly based. It's one of the very few that doesn't have even a single rumor connecting it to Intergang, so--"
"So you figure if they needed a safe place to pay Vale his money, they'd use it." Perry nodded and skimmed the information listed on the screen.
"Exactly. See, ever since Clark's article connecting Costmart to Intergang, they haven't been able to use their usual front companies, and the police haven't been able to find their new base of operations." Jimmy hesitated, then reluctantly added, "This is the only lead I've got. So if it's not here, I don't even know where to start."
"Wait a minute." Perry frowned. "Is that the listed phone number of the place?"
"Uh, yeah. Why?" Jimmy looked up at him curiously.
"Huh." Suddenly more focused as he shook off remnants of debilitating fear, Perry turned and strode the few steps to Clark's desk. "Clark mentioned that he was looking through his phone records recently; he thought something might be connected to Intergang. He said there were several numbers repeated that he was going to check out."
Clark's desk was meticulously neat, each item carefully placed. It was almost harder to find anything amongst the perfect order than it would have been to find in the rushed clutter of Lois's things. Fighting back a pang of terror for his star reporters, Perry eventually found the papers he was looking for--filed in a drawer--and quickly handed them to Jimmy.
"There, see, those three numbers repeat." He and Jimmy set out the records for each separate phone, lining them up next to each other. Clark had highlighted the repeating numbers, finding at least five different occurrences on each phone line.
"Hey!" Jimmy exclaimed. "This is the listed number of the warehouse. And I'm sure I've seen this second number before."
Impatiently, Perry watched as the kid swiveled back to his computer and began typing furiously. Finally, almost bursting with the need to do something, he exclaimed, "Stop bein' so shy and tell me what you've got!"
"Look, this second number matches that of another small sales rep company. I'll bet the third's also connected in some way. I could start cross-referencing--"
"How long would that take?" he demanded.
Jimmy shrugged. "It depends."
"Well, we don't have a lot of time. Come on. Let's go check that warehouse out."
Though obviously surprised, Jimmy stood and shrugged on the coat hanging over the back of his chair. "You think that's where Lois and Clark are?"
"Who knows? But the last time I followed one of your hunches, we ended up finding proof that Superman had made it back to Earth after that nasty Nightfall business. Besides, it can't hurt to check it out."
"Should we call the police?"
"With what?" Perry retorted, pushing the down button on the elevator repeatedly, for the first time impatient with its slow response. "We don't have any evidence, and we can't even be positive Lois and Clark are really missing. I've got a cell-phone; if we find anything, we'll call the police. Until then, let's not bother them."
"Wow, Chief." Jimmy grinned as he stepped into the elevator after Perry. "I guess you weren't kidding when you said Lois learned a lot from you, huh?"
Surprised into a smile, Perry knocked a fist into Jimmy's arm. "You'd better believe it, son."
Perry let Jimmy drive to the warehouse for two reasons. The first was that it was Jimmy's car; ever since the divorce, Perry had made do with a cab. The second was because he was afraid that his stress over Lois and Clark's predicament--heightened due to his own guilt in the matter--would have an adverse effect on his driving. What he should have been worried about was what *Jimmy's* driving would do to his nerves. By the time the kid had skidded to a halt a block down from the dark warehouse, Perry was seriously considering doing an article on the mysterious powers of indestructibility Jimmy's car seemed to possess. Maybe a whole series of articles.
"Don't you know how to *ease* into a stop?" Perry demanded. He made sure to lock his knees as he stepped out of the car; no need to let Jimmy know just how shaken up that last swerve had left him. "I thought you were the one always complaining about Lois's driving! Let me tell you, at least that gal knows to stop *before* she gets to the curb!"
"All right, already! Shh." Jimmy waved a quieting hand and grimaced at Perry, who was pretty convinced that no matter how loud he spoke, his heart would still be rattling along louder. It'd be a miracle worthy of Elvis's return if he ever got his blood pressure back down after that little escapade. Great shades of Elvis, he'd have to eat a *boxful* of those sickening Paava leaves before he'd be able to see his doctor without giving *him* a heart attack!
Fortunately, he was able to regain his equilibrium by the time Jimmy made it around the car and reached his editor's side. "Come on," Perry directed, infinitely satisfied when his voice emerged sounding normal enough. "We'll sneak around to the back. Do you suppose any flashlight you might have stashed in your car survived the trip?"
"Way ahead of you--got one in my pocket."
"Yeah, well, that *would* be about the only way one could survive," Perry muttered.
The rain masked the sound of their steps as they slipped around the soggy ruins of cardboard boxes and half-empty trash-bags escaping nearby dumpsters. The street was empty, the warehouses around them run-down and ill-used. Jimmy's flashlight stabbed a faint beam through the murkiness ahead, a weak defense against the unknown they were walking straight into. Perry could see no sign of anyone near, but he knew that if this really was where Lois and Clark had been taken, there would surely be at least one look-out.
"All right, Jimmy," Perry started to say but was interrupted by gunfire. Acting more quickly than thought, he dove forward and pushed Jimmy back behind the corner of the warehouse. Leaning there, trying to still the shaking of his legs even as he peered around the side in search of the sniper, he found himself amazed at how quickly one could move when death threatened.
"Oh, man!" Jimmy exclaimed shortly, his eyes wide and full of shock. "Someone's shooting at us! Who's shooting at us?"
"I don't know." Perry grinned at him, blinking away raindrops. "But I'd say we're probably on the right track."
Jimmy gaped at him. "Can we call the police now?"
"And tell them what? That we're trespassing?" Perry chanced another look around the corner and saw a man nearing them, a small firearm held ready in his right hand. "Anyway, after your driving, I can't believe you're afraid of a few measly bullets."
"Measly?" Jimmy repeated incredulously. "I'd like to live to see my next birthday, thank you."
"Fine." Perry grabbed the kid's shoulder and shoved him toward a row of crates stacked parallel to the wall. "Hide behind those crates. If you see an opportunity, take it."
"What?" Jimmy had no time for anything more because the editor gave him a push that sent him into a shambling run and saw him safely behind the crates. Perry would have liked to have given him a bit more direction, but he could hear the man nearing, his steps sloshing through rain puddles.
"You!"
Raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, Perry turned to face the shooter. His bravado before Jimmy had been just that--a show--but now, he felt it become more real, forced by the depths of his fear to become more concrete. He didn't like seeing the end of his life pointed at him in a cold barrel, but then, you didn't always get what you wanted. And it was far better to face this sort of danger than have to sit in his office and ponder more shame-drenched decisions as he looked at an article explaining the deaths of his two star reporters.
"Is there a problem here, mister?" he asked casually, careful to keep his hands where the man could see them. No sense in getting shot just because he got careless.
"What are you doing here?" the man demanded. As he grew nearer, the rains parting before him like a curtain, his features grew more familiar. Perry had never met him personally, but he had seen enough pictures of the street toughs Lois and Clark suspected were involved with Intergang.
Terrible fear and dread mixed together in the pit of Perry's stomach with sickening results. Forcibly reminding himself that Clark was Superman and therefore invulnerable, he tried to convince himself that there was still hope. How many times, after all, had Lois and Clark showed up safe and sound after all hope had seemingly been obliterated? He couldn't give up on them now.
"What am *I* doing here?" Perry repeated. "What are *you* doing here?"
The man drew down his heavy brows, his hand tightening over the gun, and took another step nearer, forcing Perry to back up against the cold wall behind him. "I know you--you're Perry White."
"Oh, you read the Planet?" he asked.
With a terrible crash, Jimmy slammed into the man. The gun went skidding across the ground to land next to a muddy puddle. Perry dived forward and delivered a well-executed punch that surprised even himself. It had, after all, been a while since Beirut, though apparently old habits died hard.
"Grab some of that rope from those crates!" Perry snapped as he held the shooter down against the pavement. But when Jimmy took his weight off him, the man bucked upward and twisted to his feet. Praying he didn't slip in the rain, Perry shoved the man back to the ground and delivered another punch, one that left him gasping in pain and afraid he had broken his knuckles. The shooter, however, fell limp.
"You all right, Chief?" Jimmy asked, hurrying over with some rope he'd cut from the crates.
"Yeah, but I remember now why I became an editor." He and Jimmy bound the man's hands and feet securely, then set him up against the wall out of sight.
"Let's hope he's the only lookout," Jimmy muttered as they once more started toward the door.
"Well, this might help things a bit." Perry scooped up the gun.
Jimmy frowned at him. "Do you know how to use that?"
Despite the situation, a guffaw escaped Perry. "Son, it's pretty easy--point and shoot. But I don't intend to use it except by way of intimidation. Now, do you want to stand out here talkin' or find Lois and Clark?"
Shrugging, Jimmy pulled out his ineffectual flashlight and shoved open the door.
The confines of the warehouse were vast, open, echoing, and cluttered with the detritus of leftovers the previous owners hadn't seen fit to take with them. It clearly wasn't being used by any sales company that was well enough off to be making substantial payments to Dorian's bank account. Perry found a light-switch, but the dim illumination didn't do much to clear anything up. The most he could say was that no one else seemed to be home.
"Where do we start?" Jimmy wondered in a hushed tone.
"We're here! Over here!"
"Lois?" Perry shouted, his heart jumping to his throat. Somewhere deep inside him, he'd known they'd be here--or stashed somewhere else equally depressing--but he had hoped nonetheless. Hoped that they were fine, taking a moonlight flight that had lasted longer than they'd anticipated. Hoped that Clark wasn't facing another situation with Kryptonite or Lois's safety held over his head. "Lois! Where are you?"
"Perry?" Lois's voice reverberated, but Perry and Jimmy were able to follow it forward to the cleared center of the warehouse's interior. "Perry, we're in a cubby-hole under a trapdoor."
"I found it!" Jimmy exclaimed. He half-fell, half-knelt on the floor and dropped the flashlight aside, then placed his hands on the indented handle.
"We're getting you out of there, Lois," Perry called, kneeling at Jimmy's side, prepared to help him lift the trapdoor.
"Don't open the door!" Lois shouted, and both Perry and Jimmy fell motionless at the panic eating away her voice. "Superman's in here with me, and there's red Kryptonite infusing the walls. If you open the door or try to break in, a green Kryptonite gas will fill the cubby-hole."
Sickened, Perry examined the door beneath him in a new light, almost imagining he could see red spilling from the edges of the cubby-hole. "Are you all right in there with Superman?"
"Of course I'm all right," she said over Clark's "We're fine, sir, but I'd appreciate it if you could get us out soon."
A tiny smile tugged at the corners of Perry's mouth, but he hid it by creasing his brow in thought. "I think I see a small panel here that might be where these gizmos are plugged in. If I open it, will I trigger the gas?"
There was a slight pause, and then Superman's strong, steady voice, marred only by the smallest sign of strain, emerged into the cavernous interior. "It doesn't appear so. The lines run, unbroken, around this small space, but I don't see any indication that they include a panel."
"All right. Here goes nothin'." Exchanging a quick glance with Jimmy, Perry pried open the tiny panel and was rewarded with the sight of a red stone, gleaming malevolently, attached to some wires running behind the paneling of the cubby-hole.
"We've found the red Kryptonite," Jimmy exclaimed, pitching his voice loud enough to be heard through the walls. "But I don't see anything that looks green."
"Please," Lois begged. "Please, try to find it!"
"Are you sure it isn't running through the lines--rigged to spray outward?" questioned Perry.
"It might be," Superman confirmed slowly.
"I'm going to unplug this rock," the editor informed them; then, holding his breath, he pulled the Kryptonite free of the wires. "Are you all right?" he called hastily.
"Fine," Superman replied shortly, but there was a thread of tension in his voice that hadn't been there before. It would, Perry knew, be a while before the effects of the red Kryptonite wore off.
Making a sudden decision, Perry handed Jimmy his cell-phone. "Son, call the police. Let them know where we are and that there's been an attack on Superman and a kidnapping."
"It's Rollie Vale," Lois added, the words muffled by the floor between them. "He's selling to Intergang."
Perry nodded to Jimmy but didn't watch the kid step away to obey him. Instead, he turned to the study of the cubby-hole beneath him and the problem it posed. For whatever reason, he abruptly felt as if this was his one chance for atonement--he had played a part in Jerry's attack on the superhero, but this moment was an opportunity to prove that he was more than his son, that he could surpass the mistakes of old, that he could make up for what he had allowed to happen.
And he did not intend to let the opportunity slip away.
With renewed determination, Perry bent to examining the sides of the cubby-hole, running his hands inside the panel to see if he could feel what he couldn't see in the intermittent lighting. Shockingly, his hands came across an oddity buried behind the wires that had led from the red Kryptonite to the paneling. It didn't feel like an alien stone...but it did feel like a tiny canister.
"I think I've found it," he yelled excitedly.
"Please," Superman begged desperately. "Hurry! The air--it's running out. Lois!" He said more, the rest fading inaudibly, spoken to the woman beside him and not to the men above. Perry felt an additional thrill of desperate terror; he had thought his main concern was Superman and the Kryptonite, not the vibrant, dedicated reporter who had strode into his office so young and full of bravado to demand a job at the Daily Planet and an uncontested place in his heart.
His hands shook as he maneuvered them by feel in the darkened, tiny panel. He dared not crack the canister open, and yet haste made him clumsy. "Please," he found himself whispering. "Come on!"
With a slight hiss and snick, the canister came free, tiny and almost weightless in Perry trembling hold. For a breathless moment, he could do no more than sit and stare at the tiny bulb-shaped container. Then, recalling the peril of Lois's situation, he exclaimed, "I've got it! It's off!"
"Move back, sir," Superman commanded impatiently. And as soon as Perry had struggled to his feet and backed up several paces, looking behind him to make certain Jimmy was still a safe distance away, the trapdoor flew upward and landed with a clang in a shadowed corner of the warehouse's interior. An instant later, a mass of red and blue and a trace of yellow floated upward from a tiny cubby-hole, the limp, fragile form of a woman cradled in his careful hold.
"Lois!" Perry was there as soon as Superman landed. Only it wasn't Superman who supported Lois as she wavered on her feet; it was Clark, made so by the sheer terror on his face as he examined her body from head to toe with narrowed eyes that saw so much more than Perry could.
"She has a concussion," Clark explained. As soon as Perry's arms moved to surround Lois's shoulders, Clark stepped away, his hands falling to his sides and beginning to clench into tight fists before he consciously relaxed them.
"Lois, darlin', are you all right?"
Perry almost sagged in relief when Lois blinked dazedly and met his gaze. "Perry?" she uttered tremulously. "Where's Clark?"
The editor hastily looked over his shoulder, but Jimmy was still on the phone, gesturing expansively as he explained something to the person on the other end. "Uh, I'm sure he'll turn up." Perry cast a sharp look to Clark, and the younger man stepped forward.
"Lois." The word was spoken quietly, simply, naturally, yet it might as well have been a hundred declarations of undying love for all that was evident in it.
No matter her apparent lightheadedness, Lois's eyes unerringly found Clark's. "Superman," she said, a tiny smile curving her lips in satisfaction at remembering the correct name. "I told you we'd find another way out."
Tenderness obliterated every other emotion in Clark's eyes. His hand rose toward her cheek before he remembered what Suit he wore and that Perry was standing there, supporting Lois as she half-leaned against him. "You did. You're always right."
"About you, anyway," Lois replied quietly.
Not wanting to intrude, Perry shifted his weight and cleared his throat. "Uh, and where *is* Clark? Jimmy and I were looking for him and Lois, and I'm sure the police now know that."
"Oh, well." Amusement suffused Perry as he watched Lois and Clark exchange another conversation-filled glance. Clark straightened and looked at Perry briefly before his eyes fell away to a point in the distance. "I think Clark was knocked out by the men who kidnapped Lois. She was being held as insurance to make him write an article retracting the Costmart/Intergang connection."
"Knocked out." Perry nodded sagely. "That'd be why he didn't answer the door when Jimmy and I knocked."
"Yes," Lois affirmed quickly. "That's why. Superman made sure he was all right, though, before coming after me. Right, Superman?"
"Right." Again, Clark made a tiny movement with his hand before recalling himself. "But I should go. Rollie Vale is still free, and if I'm not mistaken, he's currently meeting with the head of Intergang. If I can find him, I might be able to catch them both."
"Are you well enough?" Perry asked, narrowing his eyes as he examined the superhero. Clark was looking a bit unsteady on his own feet, and though he held himself with rigid restraint, the signs of fear lingered in the tight corners around his mouth and eyes.
"The red Kryptonite doesn't wear off that fast," Lois added softly.
"I can do this." For all the tight, controlled quality of his voice, Clark's eyes were filled with a mute plea as he looked at his wife. It was a plea Perry recognized, having seen it in his son's eyes just hours earlier. A plea for trust. A plea for faith. A plea for confidence, given and thus instilled.
A plea Lois answered without hesitation. "Then go," she told Superman. "Catch the bad guys so we can write the story--a Daily Planet exclusive."
"How will you find Vale?" asked Perry as Jimmy rejoined their group.
"I left m--Clark's beeper in the back of his van. If you wouldn't mind paging me, Mr. White, I'll zoom in on the sound and trace it to Vale's location."
Ignoring his amusement at Clark's use of the name "Mr. White" and amazed once again at how differently Clark held himself as Superman, Perry nodded. "Jimmy, give me the cell-phone. Why don't you go bring the car around so Lois doesn't have to walk so far--and try not to hit the warehouse, would you?"
"Sure thing, Chief." Jimmy sprinted toward the door, eager to please, as Perry flipped open the cell-phone and punched in Clark's number.
Superman turned to follow the sound only he could hear, but then hesitated to look back at his wife. "Lois, you will let a doctor check that lump on the back of your head, won't you?"
"If you promise to be careful," she returned gently.
"*I'm* always careful," he replied wryly. "Lois..." With only a brief glance to Perry to acknowledge that he and Lois were not alone, Clark allowed one finger to brush the curve of Lois's cheek. "I wanted to tell you...Metropolis asked me to stay."
Joy awoke twin suns in Lois's eyes, and as if they were suns that provided him solar energy, Superman straightened with infused confidence and strength and blurred away. Despite the red Kryptonite, the door--and the walls--of the warehouse were undamaged by the speed of his exit.
Lois turned to Perry, one hand fisting in his shirt. "Did you hear that, Perry?"
"I did," he returned past the lump in his throat. "I'd say you did some pretty fine work there, darlin'."
"Not me," she murmured as her head wobbled and then leaned on Perry's shoulder as sirens neared the warehouse. "He did it all himself."
Perry chuckled, remembering the moment he had introduced Lois and Clark, the astonished gleam in Clark's eyes, the concealed surprise in Lois's when she found herself working so well with her new partner. Then, knowing she wouldn't hear him, he whispered, "Teamwork's a beautiful thing."
