Part Eight
Directly across the wide central concourse of the LIP from LexSolar complex, stood the renowned Conquistador Hotel. It was a popular destination; designed for the busy multi-tasking business traveler. It featured a select range of services aimed at providing casual hospitality in a well-designed, high-tech and contemporary environment. Lois remembered reporting on several diplomatic functions for the Planet at the high-end establishment. However, what she needed from the place tonight was its back parking lot. It should be dark enough and far enough away from prying eyes and surveillance cameras so she could move about freely.
Lois parked the Jeep in the dark back lot, grabbed her bag and avoiding any pools of light from the parking lights, walked stealthy back toward her objective. Intermittent drops of rain trickled down. The pavement grew sleek with moisture while the grounds began to smelly damp and earthly. <Great,> she thought. <My cold finally goes away, now it’ll probably come back with a vengeance. Still, this rain is a blessing in disguise it will cover my movements. The dreary weather reminds me of the night this entire investigation started, a night of hard, consistent rain.> The intrepid reporter walked quickly out of the parking lot, staying in the shadows. She gingerly avoided walking on the lawn … mud left tracks.
Still clinging to deep shadows, by avoiding street lights, Lois ran up the sidewalk away from the hotel for about two minutes; then when the Conquistador was no longer visible, she crossed the concourse that separated the hotel from LexSolar. Now swiftly running down the street, she stopped at the bottom of a long curvy Elm tree-lined driveway leading up to the East wing of the building, near one of the smaller entrances. Warily she ran from tree to tree until she arrived at the wide east parking lot. <No trees here, just a long retaining wall leading to the small alcove entrance Louie had marked previously on the blueprint.>
She reached the alcove entrance, and then still hugging the dark red brick of the wall; Lois ducked down to avoid detection from the overhead surveillance camera. Once under the device, Lois stretched and stood on tippety toes to place a night-time Polaroid snapshot of the entrance over its lense. She counted off 60 seconds to make sure security had not noticed the tampering.
<Oldest trick in the book.> she thought. <Good thing Louie has a ‘connection’ in this place. He was able to take this photo.>
Once that was done, she pulled a tool from the depths of her bag and attached the leads to the swipe lock. It took all of ten seconds for the lock to disengage, open the heavy glass door and grant access to the quiet, dark building.
After switching on her penlight and checking for interior cameras along the staircase, Lois ran up the dark three flights to the offices of Drs. Amundsen and Scott.
Her mind went back two days and her conversation with Jack, making ‘requests’.
***
“Get me the current blueprints of LexSolar and the office location of those two scientists.”
“Anything else?” Jack responded, rising to the challenge.
“Yeah, I need it last week.” She snapped.
Lois was surprised to find both requests answered before the day shift ended. All the materials she wanted were placed neatly inside two separate red folders Jack had set on her chair. When she asked how he procured the information, his mysterious reply was, “You have your resources, I have mine.” So saying, he saluted the reporter than walked back to his tiny cubicle near the research department. <Well I’ll be.> She thought. <Jimmy’s young protégé might just have the chops for this job after all.>
Of course, it would have been much easier to simply ask Cat where her fiancé’s office was located; but somehow Lois did not think the gossip columnist would appreciate George being one of the objectives of her break-in operation.
Later that night at her apartment, wearing comfortable sweats and picking over the remains of Chinese takeout, she had studied the blueprints extensively, familiarizing herself with the building’s layout for quick access and egress.
***
Now here in the building itself, moving through the somberly quiet and dark corridor, she remembered the scientist’s offices were numbered E-259 and E-258 in the ‘E’ wing. By running up the central staircase and making a sharp left and walking a mere twenty feet to her right was E-259, Dr. George Amundsen’s office.
She knelt down to pick the lock only to discover that the door was open. <Oh boy, this is way too easy.> She thought. Before entering the room, she held back for a moment, just in case George was in there taking a nap. Cat had told her once that occasionally he worked late and took brief naps. Several anxious seconds passed; there was no reaction to Lois opening the door, moving stealthily she entered the room.
The office itself was furnished in boring standard tan workplace furniture. The only way to distinguish George’s office from any other she had encountered were the numerous ‘encouragement’ pictures framed and hanging on the scientist’s walls. < So strange,> Lois thought. <Especially since Cat mentioned he has a wide range of interests.>
On his desk was a picture taken last autumn of himself and Cat bundled in comfortable wool sweaters, walking through a pile of colorful leaves in Centennial Park. It was a lovely shot of a couple very content together. Lois once again felt happiness for the other woman - perhaps even a pang of jealousy. But quickly put her mind back onto the task at hand.
After an extensive twenty-minute search through all of Amundsen’s files, desk and credenza not a single item of interest came to the reporter’s attention. She turned on his computer and once the monitor flared to life, she took a chance and typed in CAT for the password. With a gentle *beep* the main menu appeared.
Lois snorted derisively. George completely ignored basic computer security protocol. She wondered if LexCorp Security knew would the scientist be fired for such an offense? After all, didn’t he want to protect his files from industrial spies like her? She ran a master search program to bring up any file with crystal or harmonic in the title or contents. Another ten minutes went by, again nothing.
“OK Cat, the ‘Wild man’ is clear… so far.”
Quickly she returned all the papers and books to their proper location. Looking at her chronometer, the time read 2:15 a.m. “I’ve been at this for thirty minutes, pretty soon the guards are going to make their rounds. Hopefully something will turn up in Dr. Scott’s office,” she mumbled to herself.
Kneeling down, Lois peeked outside the office, counted off thirty seconds then walked across the hallway her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. Dr. Scott’s office door was an entirely different matter; the lock was not standard office issue, but of a style, she had never tackled before. It took the reporter three nerve-racking minutes to understand and defeat the lock. Finally, her hands damp from sweat within her special black leather gloves, she slowly opened the door and eased into Dr. Scott’s office.
Once within the gloomy room, she locked the door behind her. When the guards made rounds, they would probably not expect this door to be open. Cautiously using her penlight, she swept the room and noted it was completely different from George’s. Upon the wall were several pictures of Dr. Scott with noted local politicians and scientists. One EPRAD group picture was taken with Lex Luthor, his hand placed judicially on Dr. Antoinette Baines’ shoulder. Dr. Scott, although Dr. Baines assistant at the time; stood far in the background; the only person in the group not smiling. The desk’s surface was adorned with a very expensive red leather desk set. <This guy really wants visitors to think he’s important.>
Lois turned away from the pictures and attempted to open the desk drawers, but they were tightly locked. <Hmm somebody this security-minded won’t leave incriminating evidence in hard copy.> She went to the computer turned it on and rather than take a crack at typing passwords she pulled out the most important device of her ‘equipment’…a bypass ‘slave’ mechanism.
She remembered Louie’s booming voice rang out clear and loud while showing her how to operate it. {Just hook this little beauty into one of the tower ports and Whammo! The computer will act like it’s yours.} True to his word, as soon as the mechanism finished its take-over routine the computer’s main menu sprang up. Nervous with excitement, she typed in a search program and waited.
For all of three minutes, Lois waited anxiously for the master file search to locate and reveal *anything * related to harmonic crystals. She was about despair the entire break-in was a complete failure when files started coming up, some with names like Crystal ‘Harvest’, Crystal ‘Instal’ and several others. “Jackpot!” Lois squeaked, careful to remember where she was. She opened Crystal ‘Harvest’ and started reading all the particulars of the Shackleton freighter hijacking.
Smiling with triumph, Lois zipped open her bag and fished out a diskette. <This is perfect! I’ll download the entire sub folder! After the story is sent to Perry’s inbox, we can contact General Zeitlin and tell him who took his crystals! Pulitzer, here I come!> All these thoughts frantically raced through her mind as her fingers nimbly tried to put the diskette in the slot. The diskette bent slightly, refusing to slide in. “What…?” She flashed her light over the computer tower. The slot was sealed off. <Why would Scott do that? Doesn’t he occasionally download information from his computer?> She sat thinking for a few minutes, then realized Dr. Scott used the new portable, but bulky, diskettes drives. <The only way to download materials from this computer is with that drive. The one thing that is *not* in my burglar bag! Rats! Where’s Jimmy when I need him?>
Much as she loathed doing it, Lois started printing out the information. It took two minutes for ‘Harvest’ to print; she was getting concerned about the noise. Once the file ceased printing, Lois thought she had pushed her luck and decided this was enough material for Inspector Henderson and a grand jury investigation. While her heart pounded out a wild tattoo; she gathered up the printout, shut down the computer, put everything back in its place, and switched off the desk lamp.
Standing by the door she was about to zip up her bag and exit the office when the sounds of heavy footsteps, keys rattling and deep male voices reached her perked-up ears.
“I’m telling you Cliff, the printing noise came from this side. Check the odd number offices; I’ll check the even ones.”
Cliff grunted in agreement and Lois bit her lower lip trying not to cry out. Moving quickly, she dived into the tight knee space under the desk. Holding her breath, she listened as the insistent clatter of multiple keys drew closer and stopped just outside the office door. After much fumbling with the lock, the guard warily opened the door and instead of turning on the light, swept his flashlight haphazardly over the room.
Lois listened as heavy feet entered the office and slowly walked around the still gloomy room. From the sound of wheezing, labored breathing and the faintest whiff of alcohol told Lois this particular rent-a-cop’s greatest exercise was watching the camera monitors accompanied by ‘liquid’ entertainment. Long tense moments later, the guard departed to check other offices further down the wide corridor. Lois waited a good ten minutes before crawling out from under the desk, her muscles relieved after their long confinement. She crossed the room, unlocked the door and peeked out again, checking either end of the dim hallway. Once again the corridor was quiet and deserted; it was 3:25 am. Her hard won information safely tucked in the burglar bag, she slung it over a slim shoulder... time to go.
With hasty steps, she ran down the inky dark corridor to the central staircase, nervously pulled the wool knit cap tightly over the blonde wig, then ran lightly down the stairs. Upon reaching the second floor landing; she suddenly heard familiar keys rattling and beams of light flashing on the other side of the door when two men burst out from the 2nd floor entrance.
“Stop! Put your hands up!”
Icy panic shot through her body, but Lois had no intention of stopping for him or anyone. She continued running down the stairs, the guards in eager pursuit. She reached the bottom of the stairwell and moved toward the exit and pulled on the door…it refused to budge. Shocked, shaken and adrenal glands desperately activated, the reporter’s body twisted to face down her pursuers. The bigger one, probably the ‘wheezer’, could not halt his lumbering movements to stop in time. Lois turned her body and kicked him hard in the solar plexus. The man went down like a pole-axed steer, dark curses spewing from his mouth.
“Turn around I have a gun!” The remaining guard shouted.
Not allowing the other guard a chance to react, Lois struck him with another well-placed kick. He also went down, holding his side and coughing. Searching his pockets, she located the swipe cardkey ran it through the security box and pushed open the door with all she was worth.
Just as she stepped over the threshold the sharp sound of a cough reached her ears. All of a sudden hot searing pain passed through her left arm; a dry strangled cry escaped her throat. But through it all, her wobbly legs kept moving.
Outside the rain now cascaded heavily down with a murky, wet intensity. Instantly Lois’ clothes were saturated and now clung to her skin uncomfortably. Her shoes were totally wet and squishy; making her steps painfully awkward and sluggish. Pushing the feeling aside, the reporter ran along the dark red brick walls trying to avoid detection and capture. The burglar bag, containing its hard won cargo, banged reassuredly against her hip. <Despite the danger of running in the dark, the rainfall’s noise should cover my footsteps and the blasted rain ought to slow down the rent-a-cops! I should be back at the Jeep in no time!>
Lois had barely finished her thought when suddenly the entire area burst into fierce, bright illumination and three shots rang out. First over soggy earthen terrain, that sucked and pulled her struggling feet, than easy-to-move-over hard concrete. Heartbeats pounding in her ears, she was grateful to arrive at the jeep in the Conquistador’s back parking lot.
The insistent rain had made progress difficult, especially while she kept wiping water from her face. Fighting down her trembling, Lois struggled to get the keys out of her pocket and into the Jeep’s lock. Once inside the dry warmth and safety of the vehicle, she gave into violent shaking, wishing she was anywhere but there. Strangely, at that moment her mind traveled to the soothing visage of her partner. <Oh how she wished Clark were by her side!>
For an agonizing few moments, she clumsily worked to remove the heavy black leather jacket, the dampness and pain made any movement almost impossible. Finally, the jacket was off and she dumped it into the back of the jeep. Next she pulled off the damp hat, wig and finally, the blue contacts. Hopefully, the guards would remember a tall blonde assailant, not an average-built brunette.
The old black sweater was ruined, the left sleeve ripped and covered in blood, carefully, painfully; she rolled it up to reveal a deep graze slash. Leaning back in her seat and trying to catch her breath, she thought <Thank heavens! Not a gunshot wound, unfortunately, the bullet had dug a deep ugly gash in her arm.> For all intents and purposes the arm was almost useless; she would have to drive one handed.
In the distance, police car sirens blared shrilly; somehow, she had to get out of there, but how? Surely the place would be crawling with police in only a few moments. After all, this was the LIP, Luthor territory. The fierce burning pain was making her dizzy, but losing consciousness now was totally out of the question.
She leaned back and permitted one minute to gather her thoughts and make an exit strategy. But the insistent throb of her arm and the feeling of hot salty tears running down her cheeks made planning almost unfeasible.
All she could think of was the look of disappointment on Perry’s face. How could she expect the Daily Planet’s legal team to defend her when she so blatantly flaunted the law? However, no one’s displeasure could she bear more than Clark’s. Yet somehow, the thought of Clark gave her strength. Suddenly a crazy line of attack came to sharp focus and ‘Mad Dog’ Lane forced the pain to the back of her mind.
Rummaging in the trunk of the Jeep, she found a large, old red shawl, wrapped it around her shoulders, straightened her wet and matted hair as best as possible, applied a little lipstick and mascara to make a proper appearance then drove out of the Conquistador’s parking lot straight toward two police cruisers.
“Hey officer! I’m Lois Lane of the Daily Planet. What’s going on?”
The policeman, a long-time veteran, groaned inwardly when he saw Lois, thinking she probably heard about the break-in over a police scanner and wanted an exclusive. He lied, “Sorry Miss Lane, it’s all a mistake… false alarm.”
“Thanks officer, give my best to Bill Henderson.” So saying, Lois backed up her jeep and drove off, while a police investigative team entered the Conquistador.
Still shaking, Lois fought to control her speed until she was out of sight, then drove as quickly as her arm, pulsating with pain would tolerate.
It was nearly 4:30am by the time Lois approached 344 Clinton Street, driving any further was out of the question. The adrenaline rush from her escape in the downpour had long faded. She was beginning to sweat and feel the mounting pain roiling over her body in acute waves. The struggle to keep awake and park the jeep; drained the last of her strength. On sheer willpower alone, she managed to drag her body out of the car and walk toward his building.
<Clark; got to get to Clark.> With halting steps she approached his front door and as the grey fringes of unconsciousness over took her mind, began to knock.
