PREVIOUSLY...
“Okay, then. But if you get yourself into too much trouble, I’ll be working at the soup kitchen at the corner of Fifth and Saxton today. You just get yourself there and I’ll smuggle you back to Lois. Just... walk downwind of me, okay?”
Clark chuckled, but gave the promise.
“Oh, and I thought you might find this gives you an advantage.”
He thrust a bottle into Clark’s hand.
“It’s about a half a pint of whisky. It’ll help you make friends.”* * * * * * * * *
AND NOW...
Partially protected from the elements by the cardboard box and the old blanket Bobby had given him at the last minute, Clark tried to get comfortable on the hard ground of his new abode. He was glad he wasn’t affected by the cold and wondered how people stood it who were. Shadow whimpered slightly as he curled up tighter against Clark’s side.
As Clark pulled the corner of his blanket up over Shadow and listened to the wind howling around outside in ‘Cardboard City’ - as it had been dubbed by the local residents - his mind went to the big comfortable bed back at the apartment. Maybe he should have waited until morning. Still, according to Bobby, in this section of Cardboard City, people were more transient and no one would wonder too much if a new resident simply appeared in the middle of the night.
“Come on, old man. You got to have something.” The voice close outside his box attracted Clark’s attention. The words were accompanied by some scuffling.
“You already took everything. There ain’t no more,” someone responded.
The comment must have been judged as insolent because there was the distinctive sound of flesh hitting flesh.
Clark was out of his cardboard box even before he’d had a chance to consider his actions. His cane in hand, he tapped his way quickly in the direction of the voices.
“Hey, leave him alone!” he demanded when a second hit sounded through the air.
The sounds of a scuffle stopped and Clark was pretty sure it was because attention had shifted to him.
“Hey, look at this, Mikey. The blind man wants us to quit picking on gramps.” The voice was young, mocking.
Clark’s hearing told him that two men were coming closer.
“What are you going to do if we don’t?” Mikey asked in his ear.
“Just leave him alone,” Clark repeated.
He felt someone poke him with something. Maybe a two by four.
“And if we don’t?”
“Don’t go there,” Clark said.
“Come on, Robby,” ‘Gramps’ said. “He don’t mean no harm. He’s just don’t know no better. He’s new here.”
“Yeah, well, he will know better after tonight,” Robby said.
Fortunately, the sound of the two by four slicing through the air reached Clark before the first hit landed - giving him time to react, to let the blow throw him to the ground. Then, knowing it was the only thing he could do, Clark curled up in a ball as blow after blow descended, being sure to protect his face since that was the one place where a lack of bruising would be noticeable.
Grrrrrr. Ruff. Grrrr.
The blows stopped.
“Where’d the mutt come from?” Mikey asked.
“Must be his.”
Clark tensed. If they went after Shadow, he wouldn’t just lie here and play possum. Still, Shadow continued to growl and snap in a way that Clark had to admit sounded terrifying.
“He’s not moving anyway,” Robby said after one more kick. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
He waited as the sound of feet began fading off into the distance before moving. Almost instantly, Shadow was there, as was the old man. Arms reached around him, helping him into a seated position. He tried to move carefully, as if protecting his ribs.
“Hey, you okay?” the man asked.
“I think so,” Clark said, wrapping an arm around himself.
He heard the man sit down on the ground next to him. “You sure?”
Clark nodded.
“I’m Marcus.”
“Clark.”
“Hey thanks for the help, Clark. But you really shouldn’t have gotten involved. Mikey and Robby come down here from time to time, but other than shakin’ us down a bit, they’re basically harmless.”
Clark’s eyebrows rose.
“Yeah, well,” Marcus continued. “Unless you cross them. Good thing your dog here showed up when he did.”
Clark reached out and Shadow instantly scooted under his arm and began to lick his face. When Lois had told Jimmy that he’d be okay because he had Shadow, he’d been skeptical. But no more.
“What’s his name?” Marcus asked.
“Shadow,” Clark responded.
“Well, since you’re new here and I sort of owe you for comin’ to help me, what do you say that you sort of stick by me until you find your feet around here?” Marcus said.
“I’d appreciate that,” Clark responded. Clark felt in his wrist, relieved to discover that Ata had survived the beating. So had the whisky. He removed the flask from his pocket. Figuring if he’d really been beaten, whisky was just what the doctor would order, he took a swig before passing the bottle over to Marcus who accepted the drink immediately. “I heard something about a friend of mine being around here,” Clark said, trying to keep the statement casual. “His name is Steve Baker.”
“We don’t got no last names around here. You must really be new to the streets.”
Clark nodded, but didn’t elaborate.
“Uhh, well, you don’t have to tell me. Most people here don’t have pasts either. But as to your friend, I don’t think I know a Steve down here. But I don’t know everybody.”
‘Damn,’ Clark thought. For a moment, he’d thought he might be out of here with the information he wanted before morning. But he didn’t dare follow up his question about Steven with one about homeless men going missing. Right now, he had an in and he wasn’t about to blow that by making Marcus suspicious of him.
“But a lot of guys sort of keep to themselves,” Marcus continued. “So who knows. You might find him yet.”
* * * * * * * * *
“Where’s Clark?” Perry asked.
Lois looked up from the notes she was making to see Perry standing over her. “He’s gone undercover, Perry.”
Perry’s eyebrows rose. “Do you think he’s ready for that?”
“I think it’s a perfect fit.”
Perry took a seat in the chair next to Lois’ desk.
“I think you better explain that.”
“The guys in Suicide Slum wouldn’t talk to us - we think because we’re outsiders...”
“You better not be saying what I think you’re going to say.”
“Come on, Chief. Clark can take care of himself. And a homeless blind man seemed the perfect way to get our questions answered. Besides, he has Bobby Bigmouth looking out for him and I’m going down there later today to find out how he’s doing. Oh, and Shadow’s with him.”
“Shadow?”
“His seeing-eye dog. I think that will keep people from giving him too much trouble.”
Perry looked at her steadily for a long moment and she fought the urge to squirm. If Clark didn’t have certain talents, what he was doing would be very dangerous. Perry should be tearing her apart right about now. So she was surprised when he finally nodded, giving his tacit consent.
As he rose from her desk, he spoke again. “Just keep me informed,” he said as he turned around and walked back to his office.
What? Lois stared silently at her boss’ retreating back. She’d half expected to be ordered to go and drag Clark back and then have to spend the next few days working around the Chief to get Clark back onto the streets. So why had he given in so easily?
And come to think of it, why had he accepted Clark’s non-explanation of why he’d left the Planet? Was it possible that Perry knew... Nah. That was crazy. Why wouldn’t he have said something if he knew?
On the other hand, one thing Lois had learned over the years was that Perry often knew... unofficially... a lot more than he knew officially. As he liked to say, he wasn’t editor in chief of the Daily Planet because he could yodel. It would certainly explain...
“Hey, Lois,” Jimmy said, pulling Lois out of her thoughts. “I got some information for you.”
“Information?” she asked.
“Yeah. About where Martin Snell’s files went following his death. Apparently, legal files can’t be destroyed for years after they’ve been closed. The files that were current at the time of Snell’s death have been passed on to another lawyer in his firm - Snell and Associates. Guess they’ll have to come up with a new name, huh?
“Anyway, his old files are all at this storage facility.” He handed Lois a piece of paper with an address and storage number on it. “I’ll get the name of the new lawyer for you if you want. But if you’re planning a little snooping... I thought it might be easier breaking into a storage facility than a lawyer’s office.”
Lois smiled. He was learning.
“Anyway, I’ll keep working on this.”
“Thanks, Jimmy,” Lois said as Jimmy began walking away.
She looked at the paper for a moment before making a decision. While Clark was in Suicide Slum doing his thing, maybe she’d just see what she could do with this information.
* * * * * * * * *
Lois drove slowly past the address Jimmy had given her. Her eyebrows rose when she caught sight of the name on the sign out front. ‘Storage, Storage and More Storage.’ Well, it appeared to be a storage facility, all right. Underneath the name in smaller letters was written: ‘Security Is Our Middle Name.’
“I thought ‘Storage’ was your middle name,” Lois muttered.
She pulled the jeep off to the side of the road to better scope out the property. Large crate-like containers were situated on a plot of land around a small central building. Even from the road, the crate numbers were clearly visible. Large padlocks seemed to be the only locking device on the crates - at least from what she could see. That made things easier.
On the negative side, a high wire fence encircled the facility, topped with barbed wire. It only allowed access to the central building. A large German Shepherd lay sleeping beyond the fence. Those did not bode well for her chances of sneaking onto the property. And if they had taken those security measures, what other surprises might be waiting for her?
She didn’t see any cameras - but that didn’t exactly mean anything. Still... maybe there was another way to get a look at those files.
Putting the jeep in drive, she pulled back out onto the road. Just one stop should do it.
* * * * * * * * *
The monster of a man didn’t even look up from the porn magazine he was drooling over when Lois entered the office of Storage, Storage and More Storage some time later. Lois walked over to the counter and glanced at the bell sitting on it before looking back at the man. Surely he must know she was there. Still, he just continued turning pages on the magazine.
Ding!
“What’d you want.”
Einstein still hadn’t looked up.
“I’m a lawyer with Snell and Associates,” Lois said, pulling out one of the business cards she’d had made up less than ten minutes before. “I need to get into storage crate forty-three.”
“I thought you people were coming tomorrow.” He still hadn’t bothered looking up.
“Excuse me?” Lois asked.
“You know. To take the files for destruction. But I guess today works. You still pay to the end of the month, though.”
“Uhh... yeah,” Lois said slowly. “Well, we’ll still be coming tomorrow. I just need to get something out of there before then.”
He gestured towards the back door. She glanced at it before looking back at monster man, not entirely certain what he was telling her.
Finally, he looked up at her. “What? You need an engraved invitation?”
“No! No, of course not,” she said before heading through the door, and into the yard filled with crates. She froze when she saw the German Shepherd, but when, like the man inside, the dog didn’t even look up, she carefully walked past him. Only once she was well by did she begin looking for crate forty-three.
Well, it was a good thing that security was their middle name - because otherwise they wouldn’t have any security at all. Of course, Einstein hadn’t given her a key, but that was hardly a problem.
Still, his comment about someone from the firm coming by to destroy the files was interesting. Jimmy had said that files had to be kept for years. And yet, it was less than six months since Snell’s death. Unless... maybe the files kept here were really old. In which case, they may not be what she needed at all. Still, she was here now so...
Spotting crate forty-three, she walked over and began work on the lock.
* * * * * * * * *
“Ready for some lunch?” Marcus asked approaching the corner Bobby had suggested Clark use to beg. “Hey, how you makin’ out?”
“I’m not sure,” Clark said, picking up the tin can sitting next to him and shaking it slightly. “Sounds like I’m doing okay.”
Marcus took the can from him. He picked out a number of items and tossed them away. “Stones,” he explained. “Still... looks like ya got about eight-five cents.”
Clark sighed, wondering which of his ‘donors’ he had thanked for the stones. He’d have to listen more closely to the sound made when things were dropped into his can. Still, at least it solved the moral dilemma he’d been struggling with all morning about what to do with the money. He’d decided to donate it to the soup kitchen where Bobby was working. Not that they’d be too impressed with eighty-five cents.
“Guess I’m not too good at this,” Clark said.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s still early. Anyway, if ya got time for a break, I thought I’d take you to the Saxton Street Kitchen to get a hot bowl of soup - introduce you to some of the guys.”
“Great,” Clark said. He’d be glad for the introductions. And it sure beat sitting out here in the cold, collecting rocks.
* * * * * * * * *
He might not be overly affected by the cold. Still, Clark had to admit, it felt wonderful stepping into the warm building. He could only imagine the reprieve such places were for the regular inhabitants of the streets.
“No dogs allowed,” a woman yelled from across the room. “Can’t you read the sign?”
Clark hesitated. Damn. That was a problem he hadn’t considered. If he hadn’t wanted to blend in, he’d have informed the woman that state law required all establishments open to the public to admit seeing-eye dogs. As it was... maybe coming here wasn’t such a good idea. He might be wise to beg off and wait for another chance to meet some of the men and ask some questions so as not to give away his cover.
“Hey, Marg, relax.”
Bobby. Clark breathed a sigh of relief.
“Can’t you see he’s blind?” Bobby continued. “And that’s a seeing-eye dog - so they have to be admitted.”
Thank God for Bobby.
He heard the woman make a disgruntled noise but she didn’t follow up on her complaint. In fact, Clark heard her walking away.
A slight tug on his arm told him that Marcus wanted him to walk so he did, following the older man towards the smell of food.
“So who’s your friend, Marcus?” Bobby asked while spooning some liquid into a bowl.
“This is Clark,” Marcus said.
Clark could hear Marcus accept the soup and put it on his tray before accepting one for Clark as well.
“Ya want a bun?” Marcus asked. When Clark nodded, Marcus added a bun to each of their trays.
“I knew a Clark once,” Bobby said casually. “He was in love with this Lois chick. If he were here now, he’d probably want me to take him back to her.”
Clark understood the message immediately. “Too bad I don’t know anyone named Lois,” he said.
Bobby’s soft chuckle followed him all the way to his seat.
* * * * * * * * *
Lois pushed down her excitement as she left Storage, Storage and More Storage, not wanting Einstein to get suspicious. She still wasn’t sure there was anything in what she had discovered, but it certainly was possible. After all, the files hadn’t been old. So why would not-old files be slated for destruction? The only answer she could come up with was that they were being destroyed, not because they were old, but because they were sensitive.
Knowing she didn’t have a lot of time, she regretfully restricted her search to finding client lists and accounts. Fortunately, in true legal fashion, the files had been meticulously organized. She’d managed to scan a client list, together with a list of files and the types of services rendered with her hand-held scanner. The lists were long. If she found anything particularly interesting when she went through it this afternoon, she might try a little mission back here after the place closed tonight.
She had briefly considered taking a bunch of files now, but quickly rejected the idea. Better to do it when she had gone through the list and knew what might be best to take. And although Einstein hadn’t shown any signs of intelligent life so far, she might be best not to underestimate him. Better to do this under the cover of darkness when she had a little superstrength at her disposal.
Unfortunately, there were no accounting files in the storage room. Perhaps who had paid for various tasks was in the individual files, but she didn’t dare take the time to go through all of those. Surely even Einstein would get suspicious if she stayed too long.
Einstein didn’t look up as she walked past him and out to her jeep. She breathed a sigh of relief when, after starting the vehicle, she pulled it out onto the street to return to the Daily Planet.
* * * * * * * * *
Marcus had been as good as his word, introducing Clark to a number of men at the shelter. Even Clark’s soup seemed to hit the spot, given the cold of the day. And Bobby had seen fit to bring some scraps over for Shadow - saying something about the pooch needing some lunch, too. Shadow immediately began chowing down.
Still, since everyone seemed to be eating their lunch in silence, Clark was left with the dilemma of how to begin his enquiries. If they’d been chatting, he might be able to inject his questions in as part of casual conversation, but with no ‘casual conversation’ taking place, the task became much harder.
Marcus solved the problem for him. “Clark here is looking for a friend of his. Anyone know a Steve?”
There was a grumble of denials and Clark felt his heart sink.
“Hey, wasn’t there a Steve who used to bed down at St. Andrews when it got too cold on the street?” the man who had been introduced to him as Eric asked after a moment.
Clark instantly perked up.
“I think I remember him,” the man known as Sarge responded. “Big guy. Older. A vet if I remember correctly.”
“That sounds like him,” Clark said.
“Ain’t he one of the guys that went missin’?” a third guy who had been introduced as Buddy
asked.
“Missing?” Clark asked.
“About a month ago, a bunch of the guys just disappeared. No one knows what happened to them.”
“I know,” Eric said.
“Oh, not that crazy theory of yours again,” Sarge said.
“It’s not a crazy theory,” Eric said, sounding annoyed.
The slight murmur Clark heard from the men told him that they’d been subjected to this theory a number of times - and didn’t believe it now any more than they had the first time Eric had mentioned it.
“What’s your theory?” Clark asked. He was just trying to make conversation, after all.
“All the missing men went to the free clinic.”
Clark’s eyebrows rose. “What free clinic?”
“About six weeks ago,” Marcus began, “two guys showed up - doctors. They said that the city was openin’ a free clinic for the guys down here. Set up shop in the old Sears building on Fraser Avenue.”
“I wasn’t going to no free clinic put on by the government,” Eric said. “You can never trust those government doctors. Probably going to infect you with VD or somethin’ just to find out how it affects people. Besides, those doctors looked shifty.”
“So what happened?” Clark asked, trying to get them back on track.
“The guys down here rushed to take advantage of it. The doctors did examinations, took blood, patched up some wounds and stuff. And then they just vanished. Lock stock and barrel. One day the clinic was open, the next it was as if it had never been there.”
“And a week or so later, a bunch of the men who’d gone to the clinic disappeared,” Eric said.
“One has nothing to do with the other,” Sarge said. “You know how those government programs are. The second they find something that’s successful, the funding disappears.”
“I tell you... they’re connected,” Eric insisted. “Buddy of mine went there. He had his eyes tested. Guess they gave everyone an eye exam whether they wanted them or not. Said it was part of the general check up that they were required to do. Anyway, they promised to get my buddy some glasses ‘cause his eyes ain’t that good. When he went back to get them, everyone had packed up and left.”
Something twigged in the back of Clark’s mind, but he wasn’t entirely certain what it was.
“What were the doctors’ names?”
“I think one of their names might have been Lunch - or at least something to do with eating,” Sarge said. “But I could be wrong.”
“What did they look like?” he asked, knowing as he did that he was coming dangerously close to giving himself away - after all, why would a blind man care how they looked?
* * * * * * * * *
Lois sat down at her desk and looked at the newly-printed client list. She skipped through it quickly, looking for one name in particular. Yes, Bill Church was definitely there. Still, that was not definitive proof that Church was the head of Intergang.
Once she’d established that Church was one of Snell’s clients, she returned to the top of the list and began going through it slowly, putting each name together with the brief description of the types of issues Snell had handled for them. After all, she didn’t want to get so fixated on Church that she missed something else. Still, it was interesting to note that the vast amount of work Snell had done was for Church - even if most of it looked to be in connection with establishing a CostMart presence in Metropolis.
Taking out a pad of paper, she made notes of names to follow up on when suddenly she stopped, staring in disbelief at the next name on the list. For a moment, she sat frozen by her discovery and then she was moving, plowing through the second list to see what work Snell had done for the individual in question.
Finding what she was looking for, she leaned back in her chair, considering the implications of her discovery.
She was so lost in thought that she didn’t hear the ding of the elevator so the sight of the dirty man standing next to her desk caused her to jump. She opened her mouth to ask what he wanted when her eyes finally alighted on his face.
“Clark?” she asked.
“I found out something, Lois,” he said. “We need to talk. Conference room?”
Lois nodded, not adding that she’d found something, too - something very, very interesting.
* * * * * * * * *
TO BE CONTINUED...
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