“Yes, of course,” a honeyed voice purred. “We can go another time. The job comes first. Bye now, George.”
The phone was slammed angrily into its cradle. “Men!”
Jimmy Olsen looked over to Cat Grant’s desk, watching the auburn-haired temptress body strike a pose like, well… a cat.
“Penny for your thoughts?” the junior reporter queried.
“You couldn’t handle them, Olsen.” The Gossip Columnist shot back.
“Too true, Jimmy, Cat’s thoughts aren’t worth a plugged nickel.” Lois snickered while she walked down the ramp into the bullpen.
Clark, following behind Lois, balancing two steaming lattes and fresh chocolate donuts astride each cup, winced at the remark. “Oh Lois, don’t start, it’s not even 8:30. Especially, after last night.”
Her previous irritation forgotten, Cat Grant’s face lit up with mischievous delight. Easing over to Clark, the gossip columnist rubbed a perfectly manicured and bejeweled hand on his arm.
“Did anything happen last night between you two?”
She turned, looking Lois up and down; shaking her head in sheer dismissal of the other woman’s sensible charcoal suit and burgundy blouse. “Oh no, what could I be thinking,” she pouted. “You were with Lois, ‘Madam Iceberg’. How could *anything* happen?”
Fighting a sneeze, Lois was ready to hurl a proper comeback when Perry White emerged from his office.
“Great shades of Elvis! Is this a newspaper or a gossip rag? Olsen, where are those contact sheets from the Duncan Street fire? Cat, Senator Kline daughter’s wedding? The article rewrite is due for *tonight’s* evening edition. Focus, people focus!”
He turned his steely gaze to Lois and Clark and boomed out, “Anything turn up from last night’s stakeout?”
Once Lois grabbed a tissue from her desk, the sneeze escaped. Clark’s lower lip turned downward he spoke while letting out a heavy sigh of disappointment. “*Nothing* turned up Chief. We watched the ship for two hours; drove around the harbor and spoke with a few “locals” in the Harbor Master’s office. No story.”
“Ha! A first! The hottest team in town failed!” Ralph shouted gleefully.
Perry turned around and noticing, Ralph barked, “Hey; isn’t your city hall piece overdue?”
His face beet red, Ralph muttered “Uh, right Chief” and quickly scurried away.
“What’s everybody standing around for?” The Daily Planet’s senior editor bellowed, “Get back to work!”
A chorus of “Yes, Chief!” was heard throughout the bullpen.
Everyone raced back to their respective desks attempting to put together the tasks Perry requested. Diane Pallister, a shy, statuesque blonde reporter specializing in articles for the ‘City Life’ and Weekend sections of the paper, was walking towards her desk when Lois called her over.
“So, what is up with Cat?” Lois said. “She looked miffed a few moments ago.”
Leaning down, Diane spoke softly. “She’s upset about George; he called to break off tonight’s dinner date.”
“George?” Lois said, her surprise lifting her tone. “Isn’t he that slightly nerdy, ‘wild man’ scientist from LexSolar? She’s *still* dating him after eight months? That’s some kind of a record!”
The blonde-haired woman shrugged. “I have no idea about Cat’s dating records, but apparently, the relationship is consistent *and* exclusive, especially where George Amundsen is concerned. They met a few weeks after the whole Nightfall Asteroid experience at some science/celebrity charity event. Apparently, he’s a scientist specializing in the new field of solar harmonics."
Glancing carefully over at the Gossip Columnist’s desk, Diane continued. “George works for LexSolar and lately they have been putting in overtime on some new project. He keeps canceling their dates and she just gets more anxious.” She warily glanced over at the gossip columnist than leaned closer “Lois, please don’t let her know I told you this.”
“No way! Still, very impressive bit of information gathering!”
“I learned from the best!” Smiling, Diane continued walking to her desk. Leaning back in her chair and slowly sipping the mocha latte, Lois thought to herself, “Mantrap Cat Grant in a serious, monogamous relationship? What next, Ralph joins a monastery?”
***
Cat noticed the conversation between Lois and Diane and easily imagined the subject of their speculation: George Amundsen. A subject which was strictly off limits to everyone; *especially* Perry’s little pet; investigative reporter Lois Lane. After all, didn’t she keep Daily Planet employees names out of “Cat’s Corner”? Why couldn’t they respect her privacy?
George - so strange to think of him as “off limits” to anyone ever since meeting him he was anything but that to her.
Their sexual attraction was immediate, passionate and wholly reckless. A *wild man*, she remembered saying to anyone who would listen. His appearance was very different from the usual model-perfect men she went out with. But, underneath the ordinary guy exterior beat a passionate heart. For the first time in years, Catherine Grant did not just ‘go through the motions,’ but enjoyed genuine lovemaking.
Somewhere in the past eight months, the temptress gave way to a mature woman, happy to explore the joys of a fulfilling relationship without games or artifice. On his part, George made consistent efforts to know Cat as a person.
Her high-profile occupation as a gossip ‘columnist’ constantly exposed her to several heavy-hitters in the worlds of politics, sports and entertainment. A man whose only claim to fame was working to create a better solar battery might easily be intimidated by such company. Yet he never appeared anxious and was always willing to be her ‘plus one’ at events she knew bored him silly.
The past eight months they shared other passions; good books, favorite local places in the city of Metropolis, cooking and hiking. She smiled inwardly, “Me a nature girl, who would have thought it?” George taught her the bare rudiments of physics and she shared her love of fine Italian sculpture, especially the Renaissance period.
In the early winter on a whim, Cat dropped a few of her social engagements to take a clay sculpture class at Metropolis Community College and really enjoyed it.
It fired her creative energies in other directions besides writing a simple gossip column. There were other things, places and subjects she thought of now, subjects very different from merely working for the Daily Planet.
She had all this to thank the Nightfall asteroid and one frightened priest. Such a harrowing experience had forced Cat to deeply examine her life thinking. <There was no longer fulfillment in a series of meaningless relationships, where the heck was the meaning in that? All those *perfect* guys she called already had a friend, family, someone to spend Earth’s last moments with, she had no one.>
A thrice-removed distant cousinship shared with Jimmy Olsen most definitely did not count.
She was getting comfortable, content with the tall, slightly balding scientist with the hawk nose and faintly reedy voice. But certain nasty thoughts came to the surface. <Now, all of a sudden he had to work late? Shouldn’t that be her avoidance line? Hmm… maybe he wasn’t lying? Wasn’t there some kind of rumor about heightened security at LexSolar? He had mentioned a co-worker of his, Dr. Frederick Scott making his work difficult. But that shouldn’t affect them. Should it?>
“I need to get to the bottom of this!” she muttered out loud.
“Need to get to the bottom of what?” Jimmy asked innocently.
Looking up, her green eyes narrowed. Maybe she couldn’t find out about George, but a genuine computer hacker could weasel the information out of LexCorp. “Cousin” Jimmy might come in handy after all.
***
“Achoo!”
“That cold is getting worst. You need some chai green tea,” Clark said, concern etched in his deep brown eyes.
“What I need is to find Bobby and get my Uncle Mike’s cinnamon rolls back!” Lois grumbled. “We have nothing to show for our stakeout *but* my cold.”
Clark agreed with her. He had missed a great basketball game; the Metros had won their match after going into overtime twice. His guests had departed before he’d arrived, leaving the living room clean with only a few beer bottles and empty potato chip bags in the garbage.
Unexpectedly, Clark’s sensitive hearing picked up the words ‘Metropolis Harbor’. He turned from his partner and said “Perhaps not. Look at the monitor.”
The image of Gloria Campos, LNN’s top reporter, filled the screen. “This just in from Metropolis police, the super freighter; Shackleton was robbed last night around 1:30 a.m."
“The authorities are not stating how several crates of cutting-edge Barontech microprocessors bound for LexSolar were removed from the vessel. A press conference held early this morning at LexCorp HQ by Aykira Hallick, Executive Administrative Assistant to Mr. Luthor and media liaison regarding this particular robbery. A statement as well as a brief press release, was issued to the five main TV outlets.
The camera cut away to the lobby of LexCorp, a stunning black woman very chicly dressed spoke to a number of TV reporters.
"The microprocessor were properly insured, this robbery will only somewhat affect the work timetable at LexCorp. Our computer customers’ government, commercial, and private orders should experience only a minimal delay."
The scene shifted back to Ms. Campos, “The Metropolis police are examining every lead and LexCorp is hopeful to have the parties responsible brought to justice summarily.” She than closed out the story, stating more details of the robbery would be discussed during the evening news.
“Smooth. She’s much better looking than Nigel St. John,” Jimmy piped up.
“Yes. She’s Lex Luthor’s personal executive assistant and from my source at LexCorp runs a highly organized office.” Cat interjected thoughtfully toward the cub reporter.
Clark looked over at his colleague, noting the tone of admiration in her voice. “This woman must be good if she’s earned your respect.”
Cat turned to face him, jerking her thumb toward the monitor, “Let’s face it; working for Luthor is not for the faint of heart or the disorganized. Say whatever else you want about the man, he only has the best of the *best* working for his inner circle.”
“Who cares about Luthor’s inner circle?” A miffed Lois joined the conversation and turned to Clark. “The Planet was scooped! Only *TV crews* were invited to the conference. If we hadn’t quit our stakeout around midnight, the microprocessors would still be onboard the Shackleton and we…er the Planet would have had an exclusive!”
Clark held up his hands, deflecting his partner’s onslaught. “Microprocessors are not what we went looking for. Ms. Hallick said LexCorp won’t miss them. No Kerth awards here, Lois.”
Lois spoke a little softer so only her partner could hear. “*Something* is not right. Bobby’s information has never failed. Possibly microprocessors crates were not the only ones stolen.
“Maybe we should speak with Bill Henderson and find out more about those missing crates?”
“Jimmy!” all three reporters shouted.
“No fair. You two always get the geek first; I need him!” Cat snapped
“Finding dirt on some celebrity-of-the-week is not worth pulling Jimmy.” Lois remarked acidly. ”We are tracking down *serious* news,”
Lois remarked.
Cat’s green eyes flashed with menace; “She was about to lay into Lois when Clark stepped in as referee. “Ladies, we both need Jimmy’s exceptional abilities, but only one at a time. Cat, what are you researching?”
Mollified, the gossip columnist muttered. “It’s a private business matter.”
Clark shifted his gaze from Cat to Lois arching an eyebrow, which halted her from making a “Mad Dog” Lane comment. Jimmy walked over, sensing the tension within the group; he slowed down, rubbed his hands together, bounced on his toes and spoke diplomatically. “CK, Ladies, your wishes are my commands.”
Cat blurted out, “Work schedules for the LexSolar physics department.”
Ignoring her comment, but filing it in the back of her mind for later reference, Lois spoke quickly while rummaging through her briefcase. “Track down how many crates of Microprocessors were ordered for LexSolar from Barontech and how many were actually stolen. Here use this shipping manifest from the Shackleton as a baseline.” Turning to Clark, she continued, whispering.
“Maybe General Zeitlin can provide Superman with the number of Harmonic crystals crates were shipped. After all advertising the theft of a unique new technology like the harmonic crystals with military and extraterrestrial applications is not in EPRAD’s best interests. If the shipping manifest we bagged last night says 12 microprocessor crates but say 14 crates are missing then we’ll know the microprocessors were stolen as a smoke screen. Then somebody, perhaps Ms. Hallick is lying.”
“Amazing how that little ‘pitstop’ for the bathroom at the Harbor Master’s office yielded Shackleton’s complete shipping manifest.” Clark grumbled unhappily, “You took quite a risk.” Changing tact he asked, “What about Lex himself?”
“Clark, what is this obsession with Lex Luthor? Besides, if Ms. Hallick is such a good administrator it will be very easy for her to locate all the information we need.”
“Wait a second Lois. The existence of these harmonic crystals is not exactly public knowledge. Superman cannot ask General Zeitlin for that kind of information.”
Suddenly Clark’s phone rang, cutting through the newsroom din. Seeing they were deep in discussion, Jimmy rushed over to answer it.
Cat sighed, walked away from the duo, and around to her desk. Much as she loathed admitting it, Lois was right. Using Planet resources to snoop on George was crossing the line...even for her. She was going to have to resort to something daring and different – trust George.
“Hey CK, General Zeitlin’s assistant wants to know if you can contact Superman, it’s a matter of National Security.” Taking the phone, Clark quickly found himself deeply engrossed in conversation.
***
Lois contacted the 12th Precinct and asked to be put through to Henderson. Sounding more irritable than usual, the laconic inspector growled, <<The boys bet me $20.00 either you or Kent would call before ten o’clock. Bad news travels fast, especially when you two don’t get to report it.>>
“Spare me, Henderson. Let’s cut to the chase. How many of the microprocessors crates were stolen? Achoo!”
<<Honey and lemon, plus a little rest should handle what ails you Lois. Afraid your partner will handle this story better than you will. A little healthy competition can be a good thing.>>
Rolling her eyes in annoyance, she took a deep breath and said, “Gee thanks Dad. Just give me the number of crates actually missing!”
Ignoring Lois’ retort as per usual, the police officer responded. <<There were twenty crates in all, but only five were stolen.>>
“Five?”
<<Yeah, and they were considerably smaller than the other fifteen.>>
Her pen made a steady tap-tap-tap sound on the wooden desk’s surface as she mentally rolled facts around. Furiously writing a quick reminder to check back with Jimmy on Shackleton’s manifest, she ‘acquired’ last night. Lois continued her conversation, “How much was the total street value of those crates?
<<Oh, about two point five million... give or take.>>
“Impressive, yet mere pocket change for Luthor. Still, nice round numbers like that are always exciting to the readership. Hey, why the easy give, Henderson?”
<<Because the government, Air Force and EPRAD are all over this one, so help getting these ‘microprocessors’ back is accepted from anywhere.>> Henderson sighed. <<Even from you two! Oh, yeah, tell Kent if he hears from Superman we could sure use the big guy’s help.>>
"But according to the LexCorp spokeswoman the theft of these microprocessors won’t hurt business. Why all the heavy suit reaction?”
<<Since when is *anything* involving LexCorp and really Luthor himself simple?>>
“Hmm. Point taken. Thanks, Henderson. Achoo!”
***
Once the phone was back in its cradle, Lois looked up for Clark, but her partner was missing and Ralph was standing in front of her desk.
“Sorry Lois. Clark’s gone, but he did leave this note for you.” Ralph held a sheet of paper between thumb and forefinger.
Lois’s eyes narrowed; he obliviously stole the sheet from Clark’s desk. “Give it here, Ralph.”
“Nope. Not until you tell me where that intel about the Shackleton shipment came from.”
“Sources are confidential Ralph, even you know that. Now hand over Clark’s note or prepare to be very sorry.”
He continued to dangle the note just out of her reach. “No way, Lane! I…Steve gimme!”
Steve Landers, the Planet’s head sportswriter, easily snatched the paper from Ralph’s fingers and handed it to Lois. “The newsroom is not a place for games. Crawl back into your hole and let the real reporters work,” he growled.
Frightened, Ralph fairly scampered up the ramp towards the coffee machine.
It was easy to understand why Ralph was scared. Steve was a former football player for the Dallas Cowboys; after an injury sidelined him from the game he turned to his second love, writing. Despite being in his mid-fifties, he kept himself in excellent shape. His powerful frame belied a gentle heart, but he was a man who did not take kindly to fools in general and
Ralph in particular.
Steve looked askance at Ralph’s retreating figure and shaking his head the older man said gently, “Why Perry keeps that guy on salary is beyond me. Know what I mean?”
“Absolutely. Thanks for the assist.”
“No problem.” He smiled warmly and moved off.
Lois opened the note; it read:
*Lois, General Zeitlin needs a meeting with Superman, I’m going to try and contact him. Should be back in a few hours. Clark.*
Sighing, she decided her partner could tackle that part of the story. Jimmy was working on the Shackleton’s manifest. She needed to focus on Lex’s assistant, Ms. Hallick. Perhaps she could clarify why the billionaire’s LexSolar division might not require the microprocessors.
Hmm… Cat needed information on LexSolar’s work schedule. Perhaps the loss of the microprocessors would force workers to be laid off? Why is a gossip columnist interested? Could it have to do with George?
Walking over to Jimmy’s cramped desk, Lois spoke loud enough for him to hear her, but soft enough to avoid anyone else listening in. “Hey, look up Cat’s request as well as ours. Who knows, it might be related to our story.”
She watched a bewildered expression cross the cub reporter’s face. Wisely, he thought better of asking questions; with a nod, he stood up and headed towards the research department.
Lois watched him go than decided it was time to get moving, herself. <If Ms. Aykira Hallick is the new public face of LexCorp, it’s time for her to get a crash course in media attention!>
The mocha latte was now cold and uninviting; frowning at its loss, she poured the remains into her plant pot. Shouldering the ever-present camel-colored briefcase, Lois started up the ramp ready to do battle. But, before doing that, she needed to buy some Echinacea; no way was a simple cold going to slow “Mad Dog” Lane down.
