Part Three
***
After completing the phone conversation and dashing off a note to his partner, Clark immediately raced up ten flights of stairs to the roof. Standing on the top step, he listened for any heartbeats before spinning into the suit. Once, in the early days of Superman, he had made the error of bursting the through roof’s access door and startling a maintenance crew. Painfully embarrassed, Clark had sheepishly made an excuse about needing some fresh air and run back downstairs. He found another escape route, from the building, but lost precious time helping a car hijack victim.
Fortunately, this time the coast was clear. Soaring upward into the damp morning air the superhero sped towards EPRAD facility and his meeting with the military head of the space agency General Virgil Zeitlin.
Flying towards the southern tip of the eastern seaboard always amazed Clark. Each state had a vastly different landscape, which guided him to the Florida space center. The industrial and urban residential megalopolis of BosWash lay spread out beneath him, which eventually gave way to long stretches of Virginia and North Carolina’s lush green woodlands preserves.
***
As a teen-ager, when he begun exploring his puzzling new abilities flying from one place to another always presented special challenges. Such as, avoid being picked up by radar and not get lost. Two special people, besides Jonathan and Martha Kent helped reduce those challenges and grant easy access to any point on the planet; Ida Schultz and Hutch Parlow.
All through the summer of his fifteenth year, he and Jonathan had spent many a happy evening poring over the few detailed aerial maps available to the general public. Hearing about the younger Kent’s interest in navigation from Jonathan, Hutch Parlow, the introverted WWII Air Force veteran, spent time with the equally shy teen-ager. Despite a forty-year age difference, a close friendship developed based on their love of cartography and navigation.
Clark fondly remembered sitting with the aviator over tea and his mother’s warm oatmeal raisin and chocolate chip cookies listening to thrilling accounts of aerial strategy during the war in Europe. The older man’s eyes would sometimes drift far into the past, reliving a particular battle. He mentioned quietly the greatest plane he had ever seen was the English Electric Lighting. It was special to him because the plane’s navigator had saved his life. Clark had often asked to hear the story, but the older man always shook his gray head, smiled sadly and said, “That’s a tale for another evening.”
In time Hutch began to train him on the finer points of aerial navigation and as a ‘final exam’ had Clark ride co-pilot in his plane to Kansas City. For a young man whose special abilities easily allowed him to fly to the city and back in mere minutes it was surprisingly one of the highlights of that particular summer.
Ida Schultz, Smallville’s head librarian, also contributed to Clark’s store of navigation edification. Many were the times when he could be seen leaving the small library carrying railroad, highway and city maps, first of Kansas, then the United States and finally the planet. After so many trips to the library, the older woman questioned Martha about it one day at Smallville’s General Store.
“That boy has taken out every atlas in the library and put in library transfer requests from as far away as Kansas City! It’s not right for a youngster to be spending time with so many books during the summer. Jonathan needs him around the farm to lend a hand with chores and such.”
“Heavens, no! Martha said, smiling innocently, “Clark gets his chores done in plenty of time to read. He likes maps; someday my boy will travel the world.”
Her comment had satisfied the older woman, so much so she eagerly began ordering different atlases through Smallville’s library on loan system for Clark to study, blissfully unaware of his true purpose.
One night during dinner Jonathan had commented. ”If you weren’t so determined to be a journalist, son, cartography might make a fine career.”
***
Superman smiled gently to himself, cherishing the happy memories. Even today, nearly fifteen years later the now retired Mrs. Schultz would occasionally send an e-mail to Martha with computer enhanced satellite updates of a new atlas for her now world-famous journalist son.
Sadly, Mr. Parlow had died a few years after that wonderful summer, but the young man within still harkened back to every piece of advice bestowed upon him. The Man of Steel had thoroughly familiarized himself with Earth’s landmarks.
Clark slowed down as he approached EPRAD’s huge facility. Flying overhead, he viewed the huge space complex. New outer buildings radiate outwards from the smaller, older buildings; when EPRAD was an undersized agency, its budget allowed for lesser buildings only. Fortunately, the last two administrations realized the need for the space program’s expansion and increased its overall budget handsomely.
Touching down near the main administrative building, General Zeitlin’s adjutant, Captain Maynard greeted him. “Good to see you again, Superman.” The Air Force Officer, a short, well-built man with brown hair and gentle blue eyes, framed with horn-rim glasses, smiled warmly as he shook the superhero’s hand. “General Zeitlin is waiting in conference room ten. Follow me, please.” Clark followed him into the spacious main lobby; its walls displayed pictures of various spacecraft launched from EPRAD. An impressive array of commemorative photos of shuttle crews from previous years also adorned the walls.
Uniformed and civilian personnel alike walked about, but stopped and stared upon seeing the familiar blue, red and yellow suited figure. They approached the waiting elevator, stepped inside, and Captain Maynard pressed the button for the tenth floor.
Following a quiet ascent, the elevator doors opened and the pair headed down a worn beige carpeted corridor totally devoid of pictures or decorations. On the right side was a set of double doors, stenciled on one was the name Video Conference room 10A.
Captain Maynard opened the door and ushered the superhero inside. General Zeitlin stood at the far end of a long oak conference table, going over several papers and one computer disk. Closer to the entrance, a red-haired technician stood over a computer, preparing a Power Point slide presentation. The technician, a seasoned veteran who routinely set-up Video conferences between the Prometheus colonists and the President, looked up saw the superhero and gasped. “Wow! Superman, it is an honor to meet you!” He quickly regained his composure and muttered, “uh sir.”
Embarrassed for the soldier’s mistake and obvious discomfort; the captain spoke before the General could reprimand him. “Thank you, Kowalski. That will be all.”
Painfully aware of his blunder, Kowalski nodded, packed up and departed as quickly as possible.
Virgil Zeitlin, a middle-aged African American, strode towards the Man of Steel extending his hand in welcome. Over the past few years, the General became the *unofficial* liaison between the US military and Superman. Brusque and commanding in manner and speech, the soldier in him had never completely warmed to the concept of dealing with an alien possessed of vast, unknown powers. The military as a community publicly respected the Man of Steel, but in certain branches of government, xenophobic concerns were clandestinely whispered.
“You wished to see me, General Zeitlin?” Clark spoke in his best civil-but-distant authoritative voice.
“Thank you for responding so quickly Superman. Before starting, let me offer assurances this situation is not as dangerous as the Nightfall Asteroid, but it is serious. Please sit down.” Turning to Captain Maynard he said, “That will be all.” Nodding briskly to his superior and Superman the aide departed.
The superhero sat across the table from the General while he started the slide presentation. “Today’s news report of the microprocessor theft aboard the Shackleton was misleading, for reasons of national security. LexCorp did have some microprocessors stolen, but not as many as the reports stated. It’s a cover up, the items stolen were the main supply of harmonic crystals.”
Playing innocent Superman looked puzzled. “Harmonic crystals?”
General Zeitlin began the presentation. “Yes. These pictures were taken at the test facility in Leeds, England where they were created by a joint effort between the US and Great Britain. The crystals potential as a power source are myriad, but medical applications, especially in regards to the brain, are now being explored; currently the top research hospitals in the world are clamoring for them.”
“Our military forces have tested them to power submarines, airplanes and all-terrain vehicles. EPRAD’s original plan: use the crystals to replace the nuclear power plant onboard Prometheus Station 2 with solar panels powered by the crystals. Such an engineering feat is still in the experimental stages, that’s they were brought here.”
"Imagine how those plans have been crippled with this theft? Delay of power source transfer will dramatically affect the expansion of Prometheus Space Station 1 and push back P2 by as much as five years.
General Zeitlin opened a lead-lined box revealing a fist sized lavender and white hued crystal. Handing it to Superman he continued, “This is one of the three remaining prototypes; another is under lockdown at a military base in Britain and the last one Dr. Bernard Klein is conducting tests on for medical purposes at Star Labs.”
“The potential to help solve the current energy crisis is fascinating, however the medical properties is even more interesting.” Superman said.
“One of the technicians in the Leeds facility had a benign brain tumor for several years. Such medical conditions are always closely monitored. ‘Benign’ tumor can be misleading; although they may not be cancerous, surrounding tissue can be affected. In any case, shortly after he started working on the project the cells began to shrink then disappear. After a number of exhaustive tests it was determined for some strange reason the crystals had completely cured his condition.”
The General continued the slide presentation by showing ‘before and after’ pictures of a number of people. “Naturally additional tests were conducted with other patients, some of them facing death. The crystals cured all patients, except for the most advanced cases; simply by exposure to the crystals for a week or more.”
“It seems the crystals are highly prized for a myriad of reasons.” The superhero responded.
“We need your assistance to track down whoever stole these crystals Superman. They can be a source of tremendous good for humanity….or evil.”
***
Lois quickly dialed the main number to LexCorp on her cell while buying cough drops and Echinacea at Myers drugstore. Within moments of being transferred, she heard the cheerful voice of Ms. Hallick’s assistant, informing the reporter that although the media liaison’s schedule was booked, a few minutes could be spared for questions. Lois was mildly taken aback at the swiftness with which an interview with Aykira Hallick had been granted.
She wondered with a mental snort if it had to do with Lex Luthor’s slight flirtation during their interview ‘dinner’ months ago. She had put a firm stop to his attentions by pushing for his real family background. But Luthor, as maddeningly elusive as ever, skillfully avoided all questions he didn’t want to answer. A couple of dates followed, one to the opera and another one was at a charity wine tasting. Neither occasion yielded anything but rudimentary previously unknown information on the billionaire.
The article was slated for the Daily Planet’s Weekend Section. Hence, with a deadline looming, Lois wrote up a story and Perry printed it, but they both knew it was not up to her usual standards. Shortly thereafter Lex stopped calling and Lois had to admit a rare defeat. Perhaps this was his way of saying ‘sorry’ by allowing her easy access to his assistant?
Grabbing a Metrocab outside the pharmacy, Lois sat back, reached into her briefcase and pulled out her notebook, concentrating on tightening certain questions to ask Ms. Hallick. Lois was so engrossed in her interview preparation time spiraled away while the cab wove through Metropolis’ crowded sodden streets. The city’s atmosphere fairly teemed with the constant motion. Its inhabitants, as cyclists, in trucks, and in cars rode by bumping into potholes and blowing horns to avoid other vehicles. Sidewalks held couples walking hand in hand, people chattering on large cell phones and street vendors hawking their wares.
All this frenzied activity rolled by largely ignored by the reporter; having long since lost interest in the passing cityscape, she was always intent upon reaching a destination and its story.
Looking up from her notebook, she was pleasantly surprised to realize they had arrived at the massive, tall glass headquarters of LexCorp. Alighting from the cab, she breathed in the mid-morning air still lightly humid from the previous night’s rainfall.
Walking into the ultramodern lobby, and after receiving a temporary security tag, Lois approached the main bank of elevators and took the special express elevator to the 110th floor. Bobby had mentioned it was better known sarcastically among the employees of LexCorp as “Luthor’s lair.” The doors opened into a reception area tastefully decorated in twenties-style art deco. Lois walked over to a young Asian woman behind the desk who directed her towards Aykira’s office suite.
Upon opening the door marked Special Assistant to the President, Lois entered the office suite and noticed a tall middle-aged woman with soft auburn hair framing her face and with laughing deep green eyes. “Hello!” she said brightly, “You must be Lois Lane of the Daily Planet.” The tall woman came around her desk and shook the reporter’s outstretched hand. Her voice thick with a down-home North Carolina accent, she continued happily, “We spoke on the phone earlier, my name is Jane Connelly, Ms. Hallick’s assistant. She’s in a meeting; as can be imagined; today has been a busy one. I understand you are probably on a deadline. But please wait in her office; it’ll only take a few more minutes. How about something to drink?”
“A cup of tea, with a teaspoon of sweetener, if it’s not too much trouble, please. Maybe this cold will go away.” Smiling, Lois said wryly, “The assistant has an assistant, LexCorp, must be humming these days. When was it announced Ms. Hallick was the media liaison for this situation? Shouldn’t someone from public relations speak to the media?”
Smiling ruefully, Jane deflected the inquiry. “I’m sure Ms. Hallick can provide such details a lot better than me. This way, please.” Jane walked over to the other side of her office and opened the door, ushering Lois inside.
Neither ‘office’ nor ‘workplace’ was the proper words to begin describing such a sumptuous ‘space’. During previous visits to Lex’s office and home, the museum décor always gave Lois a strong sense of guarded apprehension, its sole occupant determined to impress guests and clients with shouts of impressive wealth. This space however, was different.
The Media liaison’s office suite was designed to set visitors at their ease with gentle comforts, a sign of true graciousness, not artifice. The room was painted in calming colors of creams and blues, with the large area rug underneath the desk repeating the color palette in a bold grid pattern. Behind the desk, exquisitely designed Brazilian hardwood built-ins maximized wall space in grand library style. As Lois’ eyes scanned the shelves of each built-in, she saw well-thumbed books covering a wide range of subjects, from physics, finance, and European history.
Perfectly framed pictures of the Swiss Alps mountain range, Big Ben at night, the Tuscany countryside and a picture of Brasilia, Brazil taken by Ms. Hallick on her numerous travels were displayed in matching brown picture frames in various sizes. Books, photos, hand woven baskets and several personal items stated the occupant of this space loved her work, yet possessed a world traveler’s eye.
A touch of envy ran through Lois as she sank luxuriously into the chairs upholstered in deep, lush, heavy cream fabric. For the hundredth time she wished the furniture, salesperson hadn’t coaxed her into buying stylish but totally uncomfortable couches in her own apartment.
The desk, a reproduction of a 19th century French writing table, was supported on slender curved legs, grounded the room in the understated elegance of a bygone era.
Jane came in with a steaming cup of tea placed it on the table beside the chair than departed without a word. Lois wasn’t happy about waiting for Ms. Hallick but nothing was to be done…yet. She sat back, sipped her beverage and continued enjoying the delicious décor until her interviewee arrived.
***
Upstairs in Lex Luthor’s office suite, an intense conversation between the billionaire and his assistant was taking place.
“Mr. Luthor, a working relationship already exists between you and this reporter. Ever since your early call this morning, I wondered, ‘Why, must I take the interview?’”
“Ah, Miss Lane is not just *any* reporter; she and her partner are the *best* in their field of newspaper investigative journalism. Handling her properly is good training for a media liaison.”
Unconvinced, his assistant pushed her point. “Much as your trust in my abilities is appreciated, sir, it is *still* not clear why I should handle the follow-up on the Shackleton situation with her, or any reporter for that matter? Isn’t the press release enough?”
“Creditability, my dear Ms. Hallick.” Lex countered petulantly. “An open dialogue with a media liaison instead of me riding into the fray provides assurance that although this theft will have an adverse effect on LexCorp, the subsequent investigation is routine. Lane and Kent’s story in the Daily Planet will calm the public’s concerns. Employment, especially among the scientists, at LexSolar continues without interruption. Now, I’m sure Lois is already in your office; please do not keep her waiting. She comes by her reputation for impatience honestly.”
Turning aside from his assistant, he strode over to the balcony doors and was about to step into the spring morning air, washed clean and sweet after last night’s rain. Not hearing the office door close, he looked back at the dark woman and saw the hard glint of resentment at his casual dismissal mirrored in her cool hazel eyes. Luthor walked over, laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, and said encouragingly, “No one on my staff can handle Lois Lane with aplomb quite like you, Aykira. All the important facts that we and the police have deducted are in your report. This is not a major media/business disaster for LexCorp. Simply respond directly
and honestly to all her questions.”
***
Suddenly a thousand heartbeats began to race inside and a lump formed in her throat, feeling the heat of his touch through her clothes. Aykira’s mind overflowing with sensual thoughts she had no earthly business entertaining. It was as if the original purpose for her present in this office was thrust violently aside. She wanted to feel so much more than one touch. Abruptly reminding herself where she was and realizing Lex just bestowed a generous compliment she replied softly, “I shall do my best, Mr. Luthor.” Then she quietly exited his office.
***
Lex walked out to the large balcony past the beautifully designed Smith and Hawkins black wrought iron table and lavishly upholstered chairs and stood looking over the great city in deep contemplation for several minutes. All thoughts of his complex business empire and the harmonic crystals were temporarily moved aside. For now he was simply a man, wrestling with an age old dilemma.
Touching her was another mistake… an overt act of tenderness. First, a veiled, but serious offer to share the comforts of his apartment… if not his bed for what he hoped would be a sensuous night. Now his senses were overwhelmed with a simmering desire for greater intimacy beyond bodily contact. He was being drawn in - not by her beauty - but her strength and integrity. Physical and emotional control was an ability he prided himself on, but now its steady erosion was getting out of control. His head began to ache painfully and his hands trembled ever so slightly. No woman, not even Ariana, had ever affected him like this. God help him, he wanted her. When the time was ripe, Aykira would no longer be his assistant, not a mere lover, but his wife.
If that were to be the case, modifications were needed to his plans.
His musings were interrupted by the sound of silken cloth and gentle footsteps; his other ‘assistant’ Asabi walked onto the immense balcony towards him. Asabi’s ‘serene’ appearance was ever so misleading to the casual observer. Since his replacement of the retired Nigel St. John, he had dispatched all tasks with an accuracy that exceeded even Luthor’s expectations. Still, he missed the former MI6 operative, his sense of humor and dry wit matched that of his employer’s.
No matter how hard Lex tried to lure the older man back in his employ, it was met with a polite refusal. Should he surface again by Luthor’s side MI6 would take a rather dim view of such an arrangement. Hence he remained safely (and anonymously) in Zurich.
“Dr. Scott’s plan to rob the Shackleton was carried out to perfection. All the harmonic crystals are accounted for Mr. Luthor. Experimentation and construction of the solar panels and the main power generator will begin immediately.”
“Thank you Asabi.” The billionaire bowed his head in thought than spoke softly. “I have another task for you. The evidence we planted against Ms. Hallick must be removed immediately.”
If Asabi was surprised it was not revealed on his face. “Sir, is that prudent? Should the need arise, the plan was for any blame regarding the crystal’s theft must be laid at her doorstep.”
“True. The other man replied. “I have other aspirations for Ms. Hallick and they do not include her spending time in a jail cell. Make whatever changes are necessary; perhaps one of the lead scientists working on the project? Dr. Amundsen or even Dr. Scott either is a logical choice. Dr. Amundsen made it clear he wants to return to Seattle. That would make an excellent excuse for laying the groundwork to point the blame in his direction. Dr. Scott might be a worthy choice if he should prove difficult. The man has a reputation for being rather obnoxious and ambitious. Of course, all of this is only necessary if our little *enterprise* is exposed.” This last was said without Lex’s usual suave ease.
“It will be done sir.” Bowing Asabi departed from his employer with the same stealth as his entrance.
Lex went back to contemplating the city below and the sky above. His headache… and other things, momentarily forgotten.
***
Returning from Lex’s office Aykira felt torn; pleased that he had so much confidence in her talents, yet wary to being drawn ever closer to the man. She was also deeply concerned about the forthcoming face off with Lois...her ‘friend’. Fully aware of the other woman’s investigative skills Aykira knew, doing an interview with her, no matter how short, was a mistake. Thinking back to her past; there were no less than three occasions Lois had dismantled confident interviewees starting with a simple disarming question and kept hammering with more questions until she cornered the person into telling the truth.
Innocent questions were the opening salvo to her interviews, but no matter what kind of interview she did, they were always backed up with rock solid research material.
Watching Lois and her erstwhile partner, Clark Kent, in action was fascinating, even pleasurable to observe, but now *she* was the subject. Mentally shaking herself, she thought, <As long as I stick to the facts and not allow myself to be intimidated, Lois cannot possibly lead me into saying the wrong thing. There is nothing *wrong* to say, LexCorp’s workings are second nature to me; she is the outsider looking for a story.>
Feeling confident, the media liaison smiled upon entering her office suite and seeing Jane sitting quietly at her desk carefully going over a Power Point presentation Aykira spoke, “My meeting with Mr. Luthor ran longer than expected. Has Miss Lane arrived?”
Looking up from her monitor, the assistant smiled back. “Yeah, she’s inside, waiting. Aykira, her reputation as a sharp investigative reporter is well earned, she’s already asked about your involvement as media liaison for the robbery.”
“No need to be concerned. Miss Lane is probably looking for follow-up material to this early morning robbery onboard the Shackleton. Not inviting the newspapers, especially The Daily Planet was a foolish mistake; they do not like to be scooped. Please provide my press release when she departs. Also, what time is Dr. George Amundsen arriving?”
Jane consulted her calendar. “Around 10:00 a.m.”
“Good. It is 9:30 now; give me fifteen minutes with her. Then interrupt us, say my next appointment is on the way up.”
Jane nodded agreement and continued working on the presentation.
Aykira crossed the outer office, placed a hand on the doorknob, inhaled deeply and entered her office suite.
***
Hearing the door open, Lois twisted in the chair and stood up, facing an attractive, athletic medium-built African American woman in her early thirties. Her hair and makeup was stylish and well applied. Ms. Hallick was clad in a chic aqua blue dress with blue heeled shoes. Her jewelry was not the latest fad, but pleasing-to-the-eye silver pieces Lois suspected had been collected during world travels. There was one eye catching piece in particular; thick, square silver ring with intricate symbols carved on the sides and worn on her right index finger. The woman’s manner was businesslike, but not aloof; she smiled warmly at Lois and extended her hand in greeting.
“Sorry to keep you waiting Ms. Lane. These meetings regards the theft have been non-stop."
Lois couldn’t help but feel as if she had met Aykira Hallick before. Something about her warm, gentle manner reminded the reporter of someone, but she could not quite put her finger on it. Her upper lip quirked, if she were not the subject of this interview, the two might even be on friendly terms. Lois surprised herself by saying, “Please don’t concern yourself," she said. "My time was well spent admiring your furnishings and the photographs - your office decor is quite unique. Did all of this come with the job?”
The administrative assistant smiled knowingly, “Mr. Luthor appreciates his senior executive staff and their assistants’ hard work and long hours. We have an extensive decorating budget; although, the photographs, artwork and books are from my own collection. Traveling is a passion of mine, but since becoming Mr. Luthor’s assistant I only travel for business. Please,” She said extending her hand towards the chair just vacated, “make yourself comfortable.” The reporter happily settled again into the warm comfortable fabric.
“Now, I understand you have some follow-up questions?”
“Yes.” Lois reached into her briefcase, pulled out her reporter’s notebook and opened to the marked page. "But before we begin, I mentioned to your assistant Jane, it’s strange for the executive administrative assistant to Lex Luthor to be handling such a high profile situation as this. Shouldn’t someone from Public Relations be the media liaison?”
“This is a valid question. Usually Mr. Luthor does handle matters such as these, but has decided to expand my responsibilities and allow me to work with the media on this occasion.”
<Cat was right,> Lois thought to herself. <Someone so unknown outside of LexCorp must be extremely competent to work for Lex on this level.>
“Several months before the Shackleton robbery, LexCorp ordered a rather substantial shipment of microprocessors from Barontech, in Leeds, England. Doesn’t the company have a standing contract with Comptronics in Silicon Valley?”
Nodding in agreement, Aykira responded, “Absolutely. LexCorp does business with both companies. Our international customers request Barontech products, while the domestic customers require Comptronics. It is simply a matter of domestic and international configurations being quite different. Since Barontech services the European market and Comptronics domestic, it saves LexCorp millions in conversion fees. All computers to be fabricated from those microprocessors were eventually slated for the European market. If you wish, I can contact legal and have them messenger over a copy of our agreement with both companies.”
Lois, impressed with Aykira’s candor responded. “That would be very helpful. Thanks.
Waving her pen hand, Lois continued. “You know, I’ve been covering news about LexCorp for years; it seems the company as a whole and Mr. Luthor in particular is taking a relaxed stance regarding the theft of microprocessors whose street value is well over 5.2 million dollars. He usually keeps such a close eye on his companies’ activities as well as maintains a strong relationship with the public. A theft of this magnitude, even if it is only five crates out of twenty, should be a personal affront to his professional pride. Having anyone else publicly handling the matter might be perceived by his enemies as a sign of... weakness?”
The atmosphere between the two women in the room had gone from friendly accommodation to wary defensiveness. Lois leaned forward, watched the other woman very carefully gauging her reaction. But again, the answers were direct and honest, although this time quite pointed.
“Right. First. The microprocessors are well insured, as was mentioned this morning at the press conference. Second. Our technicians at LexCorp won’t be affected by loss of employment between shipments. Third. There will be a ‘slight’ down tick on our production of computers, but another microprocessor shipment is departing from Leeds early next week. As for that other point, Mr. Luthor has a myriad of business interests. He cannot be expected to personally oversee all of them. He requested me to interface with the media and the authorities because of my knowledge of our micro processing business both from a manufacturer’s standpoint as well as the impact on LexCorp.”
“Hmm, fast turnaround on Barontech’s side.” Lois jotted into her notebook. Looking up she said, “I appreciate the information. LexCorp technicians won’t be affected what about the scientists at LexSolar? Rumor has it the ones specializing in solar energy have been putting in a great deal of overtime. Working on a new project... to build and design solar panels… to power Space Station Lex.”
“Solar panels?” The other woman’s face displayed confusion. “Excuse me, there is nothing in our reports about solar panels, only computers for private industry.”
Taking a chance, the reporter pressed her advantage, “According to my source, the microprocessors were not stolen at all, but a new technology for powering those solar panels... harmonic crystals.”
This time a myriad of emotions from surprise and happiness moved across the media liaison’s face, but finally settled on resentment. Swiftly the features schooled themselves to a calmness her body language did not agree with. “What did you say? Harmonic Crystals?”
Lois got the distinct impression the rug had been ‘pulled from under Aykira Hallick’. “I was hoping you could tell me.” Lois replied candidly.
Before the other woman could speak, a gentle knocking on the door was heard, and then Jane entered the room. “Excuse me, Ms. Hallick, but your 10:00 appointment is on the way up from the lobby.”
The resentment departed from Aykira’s face to be replaced with a look of profound relief, the competent business woman returned. Rising from her chair and coming around the writing table. She extended a hand of farewell to Lois. “I am sorry we cannot finish this interview. My regular appointments are backed up.”
“Could we make an appointment to finish this?”
Glancing at her watch, Aykira shook her head in dismay. “That won’t be possible for the time being. I understand you have a deadline. Please ask Jane to consult my calendar for a phone interview and provide you with the press release. It has been... interesting meeting you Miss Lane.”
***
Lois spoke briefly with Jane Connolly regarding where to send copies of the contracts from Barontech and Comptronics. Despite the reporter’s best efforts to push for a follow-up phone interview later in time for the evening edition deadline, Aykira’s assistant refused to be bullied. The business of running LexCorp came first. The best she could do was a twenty-minute slot in the morning. Mollified, Lois departed the office suite.
Standing in front of the express elevator, she mused on Aykira’s 10:00 appointment, wondering if it was real or phony. <No, this woman was a professional; if she wanted to end the interview, she would have told me honestly, but graciously.>
The sound of the elevator doors snapping open brought her mind back to her surroundings. A tall, well-built man with slightly balding, sandy colored hair and a hawk like nose emerged from inside. He touched his glasses with a nervous gesture that reminded Lois of her partner. The man’s mind was several million miles away; he nearly collided with her.
“Um…pardon me…Oh! Miss Lane!”
“George Amundsen… isn’t it? You are Cat Grant’s friend. We meet some months ago at the Daily Planet.”
“Um…Yes, that’s me” He smiled a lopsided, nervous grin and touched his glasses. “Uh, I hate to rush off, but I’m going to be late for my appointment. He jerked his thumb towards the receptionist. “You understand?” So saying, the scientist bowed his head, muttered a quick farewell, and briskly walked to the reception desk.
Shaking her head in a bemused manner, Lois entered the elevator and snickered. “That is the *wild* man? He seems more like a nervous rabbit!” A thought struck her. <George must be Aykira’s appointment. According to Diane, he’s one of the lead physicists for LexSolar. But why would he need to see her? Scientists even the best ones, are not high on the food chain in any company. On the other hand, Aykira is Lex’s ‘eyes and ears’ maybe he has something to discuss? Perhaps the heavy schedule over at LexSolar, a biggest server to handle the computers workloads, budgets? Who knows? Ridiculous! A man like him involved with international intrigue. What a stretch!> Groaning aloud in frustration, Lois slapped the ‘down’ button for the main lobby.
During the descent, her mind went over the brief interview. <Aykira Hallick was, despite her efforts to hide it deeply affected when I mentioned ‘Harmonic crystals’, like it was good news, but still bad news. Also, she could not shake the feeling they had met previously.
Time to get back to the Daily Planet and have Jimmy dig up whatever he can on both Ms. Hallick and Dr. Amundsen, there might be a connection.>
The elevator jogged to a stop; its wide doors opened and a determined reporter-on-the-prowl of a hot story emerged from its confines. Handing over her ID badge to the security desk, she headed outside once again onto the damp, noisy streets of Metropolis and hailed a cab. <This feels like a great story in the making.> She thought as the car entered traffic. <This cabbie had better get a move on; I have to get back to my computer. Achoo! And some more oolong tea> she thought, sighing internally.
***
Across town and fifty floors above, Clark landed on the Planet’s rooftop, spun into street clothes, opened the door and sped downstairs. His meeting with General Zeitlin took longer than expected; Perry would probably demand an explanation for his long absence. Clark thought, <Telling him I spoke with a source regarding last night’s theft might appease him. Meanwhile I still need to get my other story written up in time for the next weekend edition.> Mentally putting aside his meeting at EPRAD as Superman, Clark started thinking about his duties at the Daily Planet as a reporter.
Because of their ‘best news in town’ slogan, Perry expected his team of top reporters to occasionally produce ‘soft news’ or human interest stories for the Planet’s Weekend Section. Currently Clark was working on a story involving a favorite local yarn shop called Rhapsody Knits; its owner Grace Chu, sold high quality knitting yarns from all over the world. For the past five years of the store’s fifteen-year existence, she and many of her friends knitted exquisite hats, fingerless gloves, and shawls for cancer victims.
Herself a breast cancer survivor, Ms. Chu knew the importance of compassionate care. Chemotherapy often leaves the patient with loss of hair and sensitivity to the cold. While undergoing therapy, she taught knitting and crocheting; the soothing activities gave herself and her students a focus, taking back their lives from the disease.
When her oncologist told Grace the cancer had gone into remission, it was a momentous victory. Still, she did not stop teaching cancer patients, but went one-step further. She held a meeting with a number of artisans throughout the city, asking them to donate leftover yarn, needles, and mostly their time once a month. In the large back room of her store, men and women would sit down and create the items for donation to cancer victims in hospitals in and around Metropolis. Several of her student/patients, also in remission, made scarves, gloves, and hats - paying forward, as it were, the favor.
Clark had learned about Ms. Chu from Lois’ Uncle Mike, who donated refreshments to the group. Rhapsody Knits was only two doors down from his restaurant. Thinking such community-minded activity could use media exposure, Mike asked if an article could be written in the Planet’s weekend section. Lois always shied away from such stories; her writing style was too blunt a force. So Clark’s writing abilities were volunteered.
After several meetings with Ms. Chu and her artisan friends, Clark wrote up the story, pulling from his rough notes and recordings made during his visit on one of the ‘work’ days. Jimmy had taken several photos of the quaint shop with neatly arranged yarns in every type and color. One photo in the store’s large rear workroom showed a beaming Grace with her five staff members, six contributing artisans and two recipients of donated sweaters crowded around a large rectangle wooden crafts table. The table was covered with several colorful hats, scarves, sweaters and other hand-woven garments ready to be packed up and distributed to hospitals and homebound patients.
Clark felt immensely proud of this particular piece; it showed people at their best, helping others. Superman accomplished magnificent rescues on the world’s stage, whereas people like Grace, her staff and Uncle Mike really made a difference in small, gentle neighborly ways. Their story, although not hard-hitting like the theft of harmonic crystals, deserved telling.
Stepping into the newsroom, Clark reached his desk, booted up the idle computer and began writing the story’s final draft. If he worked without interruption, it ought to be complete before the Weekend edition deadline. After a few minutes deeply engrossed in his task, Clark sensed the absence of his lovely partner. Pausing for a minute, as if to consider a line of text on the monitor screen; he listened intently throughout the building for her delicate heartbeat.
Nothing.
Where *was* she? Checking on a lead to another story, he hoped. Now was not the time to attack one of Lex’s minions…especially not his executive assistant/media liaison without a fistful of evidence and research. Lois was working with her intuition, wafer thin assumptions and one snitch’s word.
Looking around, he did not see Jimmy, Cat or Perry. They *might* have an idea where she went. He quietly prayed she was at the Java Perk Coffee Shoppe getting another low-fat mocha latte.
Looking up the ramp, he saw Steve leaving the coffee machine and headed his way. “Hey Steve, have you seen Lois?”
“Hmm, not since this morning when I snapped up your note from that weasel Ralph and gave it to her.”
Annoyed, Clark responded, “What was Ralph doing with my note?”
“Far as I could see, using it as bait. He wanted to know which of her sources sent you two out to Metropolis Harbor last night.”
At that moment, the elevator doors opened to release Lois. She strode assertively down the ramp towards Clark and the sportswriter. Upon reaching them, the excited brunette launched into giving marching orders, at full babble mode no less.
“Great Clark, you’re back. We need to get a conference room and pull together our notes from your interview with General Zeitlin and mine with Aykira Hallick. Oh, what did Superman say about his conversation with the General? I need Jimmy to run a full background check on Aykira Hallick. That woman is hiding something.” She began digging into her briefcase, searching for her notepad.
Steve smiled, laid a reassuring hand on Clark’s shoulder, shook his head and moved off, leaving the younger man to handle his keyed up partner.
“Whoa, Lois. *I* did not interview General Zeitlin. He asked to speak with Superman and I merely passed on the message.”
”Yeah, like he didn’t at least tell you something! Come on!” Grabbing him by the tie, she dragged him into the nearby conference room. She turned, stuck her head outside the door, lovely chestnut colored hair swaying. “Jimmy, get in here!” She yelled before shutting the door.
“Okay Clark; don’t hold out on me…spill!” Again, Lois sneezed with all her might.
“The last time we heard *that* word, this whole paper chase started!” Clark’s additional comments were interrupted by gentle knocking on the door.
Without turning away from Clark, Lois shouted, “Come in Jimmy!” Instead of the cub reporter’s handsome young face, Perry walked through the door. Gazing at both of them, he spoke in a surprising soft tone. “Lois. Huh, mind telling me where you’ve been most of this morning? You and Clark have spent enough time on this rather thin story without solid facts, not half-baked assumptions. There are other assignments on your inbox. Like the Stone and Mercantile Bank story, an announcement went out an hour ago their CEO might step down. So, the piece needs a new ending for this evening’s edition. I want the Shackleton case dropped for now.”
“Can’t Elsie in re-write handle that? There’s a story here, it hasn’t dried up! If Clark and I can spend just a few hours combining our notes...”
Perry held up a finger to forestall Lois’ barrage. “Hold on now, I have to get off this train you’re driving. Finish the re-write first, than if there’s time in the afternoon, you two can work on the Shackleton piece, but if I don’t see any tangible results I pull the plug. Deal?”
Looking like a child denied its sweet, Lois mumbled, “Deal Perry.”
“Good. Now make like Elvis listening to the Colonel in the recording studio and get back to work. A newspaper runs on paper, ink and hard facts!”
Lois finished her Stone and Mercantile re-write in record time. Unfortunately, as she was submitting it to Perry a phone call from one of her sources told her the CEO was not going to step down after all. Rolling her eyes in frustration, she made deft changes to the last two paragraphs and again sent the story to Perry.
With the article written and all other tasks accomplished, Lois began a rough article outline from her interview notes with Aykira. Another phone call announcing a last minute news conference by the mayor required her and Clark’s immediate attention for the remainder of the day.
