Link was scared, really scared. Not in a million years would he have thought that Tyler – or whoever he really was – would pull a gun on Mr. St. John. It couldn’t be a kidnapping, because Tyler had left Link as a witness. No kidnapper would have left him alive to talk to the cops or anyone else. Same thing for a robbery or a carjacking. It just didn’t make sense.
Link knew what he was supposed to do if anything out of the ordinary took place. He was supposed to call the head of security and tell him what had just happened. But if he did that, people would find out that Link hadn’t done anything to stop whatever had just happened, and they’d all be mad at him. Like he could have stopped it. It had all happened too fast for him to stop it. And Link never carried a gun. But if he didn’t tell them, Mr. St. John would tell them, and then they’d be even madder.
He couldn’t win. All his life he couldn’t win. He thought he’d found a cushy job for the rest of his life thanks to Nadine, and all of a sudden he was looking at jail or getting shot or running. He might as well die of a heart attack right now.
He dithered for several minutes, pacing back and forth in front of his desk and trying to decide. He knew he looked as scared as he was but he didn’t know what to do. He had no instructions for something like this. Even though he hadn’t hired Tyler, those people would make out like it was his fault no matter what he did. He couldn’t run – he was too old and he wasn’t ready for something like this. If he got fired he’d never get another job. And he wouldn’t last a week in jail.
He was still trying to make up his mind when the door to the tunnel from LexCorp’s main office opened. He spun around and saw Mrs. Cox stride into the garage and smile at him. It was their secret routine on the days she went out for lunch. She’d smile real nice, he’d smile back, she’d call him Mr. Link, he’d call her Mrs. Cox like he hadn’t known her since she was Nadine Hanover the five-dollar hooker and pool hustler down on Forty-Ninth and Vine, and he’d bring her car around himself and close the door for her like a gentleman treats a real lady.
Not today.
The closer she got, the more her smile dimmed. “Mr. Link, what’s the matter? What happened?”
Her soft voice pried open his mouth and it all poured out. “Oh, Nadine, we got trouble! That young man Tyler they sent me yesterday done stole Mr. St. John’s car with him in it! Boy had a gun pointed at Mr. St. John’s head and they drove away!”
Mrs. Cox’ lips parted slightly and she stopped in mid-step. “What?”
One of the conditions of his job was that he never – not ever! – refer to her as Nadine. They had both left the old grifter life behind when she’d become respectable. “Oh, I’m sorry! Mrs. Cox! That boy done took Mr. St. John away in the car and I don’t know where they is now and I so scared I cain’t think!”
She took a deep breath and put her hand on his arm. “Take it easy, Artie. Just relax. Okay? Now tell me, how long ago did this happen?”
He wiped the sweat from his face and glanced at his watch. “Maybe ten minutes past. No more. Nadine – Mrs. Cox, what we gonna do?”
She smiled slightly and shook her head. “Nothing out of the ordinary. You’re going to bring me my car – no. Which car did Nigel take?”
“The – the Lincoln. Light blue Town Car.”
She nodded. “That’s what I thought he’d do. Artie, I want you to bring me the silver and black Crown Victoria with the Landau roof. And then I’m going to take you to lunch.”
Lunch? That should have been the last thing on her mind! “What? You can’t – I mean I can’t – lunch?”
Her smile grew. “Bad things are about to happen to Mr. Luthor, Artie, and we don’t want to be here when the crap hits the fan. We’ve had a good run here, you and I, but it’s time to go.”
“But – “
“The silver and black Crown Vic, Artie. Please don’t keep me waiting.”
He shuffled to the key safe and opened it, then turned to face her. None of this made sense to him and he had a million questions, but all he could think of to ask was, “Lunch?”
Her head tilted to one side and her smile widened even further. “You ever been to Toronto, Artie?”
His eyes widened and his jaw fell, then the penny dropped. He nodded with comprehension. They were both running. Together again. They’d find a way to get back what they were losing here, everything except the trouble that would follow them unless they left the state. “You think you’ll like Canadian food, Mrs. Cox?”
“I think I’ll like it better than prison food. And from now on, just call me Nadine, okay?”
He grinned and started for the car. “Okay. Okay!”
He didn’t bother to close the key safe. As far as he cared, anybody wanted a car now, they could take it.
Even Mr. Luthor’s brand-new red Maserati.
*****
Lex’ intercom buzzed and he pressed a key to respond. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” his secretary said, “but Mrs. Cox does not answer either her desk phone or her cell phone.”
He paused for a moment and frowned, then pressed the key again. “Thank you, Jennifer. Please try again in ten minutes.”
“Yes, sir. I’m still unable to locate Mr. St. John, sir.”
“Keep trying to call him, too. Same interval. And keep me apprised of the results.”
“Yes, sir.”
He waited for her to tell him something else he didn’t want to hear, but nothing else came over the evil talking box. Lex almost grinned as he considered his mental description of the intercom as an ‘evil talking box.’ All it did was send or receive electronic impulses and translate them into speech. The box had no more hand in stirring up his troubles than the Dalai Lama did.
And then he did smile as he imagined the intercom with hands. Would those hands have five fingers like a human, or would they have only four or fewer, as in many older cartoons? Would the box be right-handed or left-handed? Would it walk on those hands or would it also have feet? Or would it extrude wheels and roll across his desk? Would it have eyes, and what color might they be?
He shook himself out of his escapist fantasy and pulled a fresh cigar out of the humidor at the bottom of the desk drawer. As he lit it, he considered the possible ramifications of both Nigel and Mrs. Cox being absent at the same time.
Those ramifications were dangerous, even deadly. He knew them both well enough that he was confident that whatever they were doing, it had nothing to do with some cheap assignation in a tawdry hotel and a bed that would be used but not slept in. That eventuality was so improbable that he discounted it immediately.
A second scenario was that Mrs. Cox had found Lois and had asked Nigel to help her bring Lois in. That was more plausible than the first scenario, but still highly unlikely. The day Nadine Cox admitted that she needed help doing anything would be the day Superman did a public striptease in Centennial Park. And Mrs. Cox wouldn’t need Nigel’s help with Lois.
Perhaps they were working together on some private project, either to promote their own interests in the company or to somehow upset or even displace Lex himself. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d planned something like that, either individually or collectively, but it might be the first time they had actually put such a plan in motion. It was certainly the first time Lex had been this vulnerable since both of them had joined his organization.
But it didn’t feel right.
Lex hated for anyone reporting to him to say that some possibility ‘felt’ a certain way. His professional practice was to look at the facts and only the facts in determining a course of action, and if the facts didn’t lead him in one direction or the other, he’d gather more facts until he saw the correct path clearly. Even so, there had been times when he’d been forced to take action without all the facts and without a clear direction. Sometimes things had worked out.
At other times – like this time – things had not gone so smoothly.
If Nigel and Mrs. Cox were both missing, it didn’t necessarily follow that they were together. But it might mean that both of them had examined the current business situation and come to the same conclusion.
At the risk of mixing his metaphors, it was probable that both of them, either independently or in consultation with each other, had decided that it was time to get out of Dodge before the roof fell in on them.
If two of his top lieutenants had come to the same conclusion at the same time, then perhaps it was time for Lex himself to make a discreet exit from the stage. He had enough cash on hand to set himself up anywhere he chose, and there were enough unattached mercenaries in the country at any given time and in most cities that he could easily rebuild his shattered criminal empire elsewhere. It would take time, and it would destroy his influence in the legitimate world, but that was preferable to rotting in prison.
He’d read Milton’s “Paradise Lost” as a youth and had always identified with Lucifer’s assertion that it was better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heaven. He’d reigned for years in this city, in this state, and he could go somewhere else and rule again. Perhaps he’d never reach these exalted heights a second time, but wherever he went, he’d end up on top.
Having come to this conclusion, he began to implement a plan of action immediately. He accepted the state of reduced personal security that would ensue as an acceptable risk. After all, it would only last a day at most, probably much less.
*****
Jennifer Marlowe was no dummy. She’d grown up listening to her grandfather Philip’s tales of being a licensed private investigator on the West Coast during and after World War Two, and she’d watched her father retire just three years before as one of Metropolis’ most decorated police officers in the city’s history. He’d done more to clean up the department than any other high-ranking officer before him, and if a citizen called for help today, that citizen could be confident that the responding officer or officers would be honest and law-abiding.
If not for a knee injury she’d suffered in high school track, she might have followed in the family tradition. But even though she wasn’t a cop, she had ingrained cop instincts and a nose for trouble.
That nose was twitching harder on this day than it had at any time since she’d become Lex Luthor’s personal secretary six years earlier.
She’d seen Nigel St. John leave earlier. The timing of his departure wasn’t suspicious, since the man seemed to run on his own schedule, but there was something about the way he walked and the weight of the briefcase by his side that set off alarm bells in Jennifer’s mind. Mr. Luthor’s tight voice as he repeatedly asked her to contact both Nigel and Mrs. Cox was another factor tickling her nose. And the way a select few of Mr. Luthor’s regular visitors and callers had behaved in the past few weeks had made even the newest staff intern nervous.
She recalled a conversation she’d had with her father years before, just before starting her job at LexCorp.
~~~~~
“Congratulations, sweetheart,” he said. “Lex Luthor doesn’t hire anyone but the best. And you’re the best.”
She smiled and tapped her Coke bottle to his. “Thanks, Pop. That means a lot to me.”
He took a swig and sighed with just a suggestion of regret in his face. “Not as good as a fine Guinness ale, but not too bad either.”
“You know what your doctor said, Pop. No alcohol. None whatsoever. Your liver and pancreas can’t take the stress.”
“I know, I know! You sound like your mother.”
“I’m flattered, as always, to be compared to her.”
“You should be. You two are the tops.” He leaned back and lifted the bottle to his lips again, then set it down and glanced around. “You know who you’re working for, don’t you?”
She sent him a hard look. “Don’t start that again, Pop. This is the best job I’ve ever had. Not only is the money great, the benefits are out of this world, and the potential for growth is almost unlimited. My new boss is the eleventh richest man in the world and he’s not satisfied with that ranking. With the stock options I’ll get, when he makes money I’ll make money. Tons of it.”
“He’s not satisfied with a lot of things, honey.”
“Dad, please – “
He lifted his hand and forced a smile. “Easy, Jen. I’m not trying to change your mind. I just want you to think about something.”
She leaned back and crossed her arms. “I’m willing to think. Go ahead.”
“I know that nothing can be proven about Lex Luthor’s alleged illegal activities, not by the DA or by me or by anyone else in the department. And I’m not asking you to investigate him. That’s not your job and I don’t want you to make it your job. If you’re right, there’s nothing to find and you’d just make him mad and interfere with your career. But if I’m right, someone would figure out what you were doing and your life would be in danger.”
She nodded. “This is old ground so far.”
He reached out and waited until she put her hand in his. “I know. But if I’m right, you’ll figure it out without having to dig for it. If that happens – and I repeat, I don’t want you to do anything that would put you in any kind of danger – I want you to tell me about it.”
She squeezed his hand and smiled. “You know I would, Pop. You taught me well.”
He relaxed and pulled his hand back. “There’s one other thing I haven’t mentioned before, something I don’t think you’ve considered.”
“What’s that?”
“If Luthor really is who I think he is, then what better way would he have to disguise his real self than to hire the police commissioner’s daughter as his personal and private secretary? It’s as if he’s flipping on a neon sign that says ‘Look at me! I’m either completely honest or I’m really stupid!’ It’s just about the perfect cover.”
Jennifer’s eyes popped open at that thought. If Luthor were indeed a criminal mastermind, she’d be the perfect camouflage for him. A politically-minded DA would take one look at her situation and think exactly what her father had just said.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before saying, “I hear you, Pop. I’ll watch my step.”
He smiled and patted her hand. “That’s my girl. I’m sorry, but I have to get back to the office. No rest for the good guys.”
She crossed her arms in mock sternness. “When are you going to retire, Pop?”
He smiled again, softer this time. “When my doctor tells me I can’t handle it.” Then his face lit up with an impish grin. “Or when your mother tells me it’s time, whichever comes first.”
“I bet she wins that contest.”
“She probably will, Jen.” They hugged before parting. “Work hard and make good use of that excellent mind you have.”
“I’ll do my best, Pop. See you for dinner next Friday night?”
He laughed and pointed his index finger at her. “If you don’t show up I’ll arrest you myself.”
~~~~~
Over the years since then, she’d occasionally reported little things to her father that proved nothing but made her furrow her brow in thought. And she’d noticed a correlation between spectacular successes or failures in law enforcement and Mr. Luthor’s mood on the following days. Cops make a big bust? Luthor frowns and chews harder on his cigars and his staff stays away from him. Cops miss something big? Luthor smiles more and smokes less and his staff people don’t get their heads handed to them for saying ‘Good morning’ in the hallway.
She’d learned that she could practically set her day’s agenda by the morning crime news.
And the situation with Lois Lane had created more tense undercurrents than any other she’d ever been associated with in her time here. In the past three weeks, more people had come in or left her boss’ inner office with sweaty faces or nervous tics or clenched fists than ever before. She’d read the papers and heard the news and she knew that the Lane woman was acting like a vigilante instead of a reporter, but she didn’t know why. And she was sure that Lois Lane was the reason for all the tension she was sensing.
She’d been putting off this decision for too long. It was time to either fish or cut bait, and Jennifer didn’t like to postpone the inevitable.
She picked up the phone and dialed a number she knew well. “Matt Schwartz’ office, please. Good. Yes, I’ll wait.”
After a long moment, her stockbroker picked up. “Conner and Conner Investing, Matthew Schwartz speaking. How may I make you so much richer today?”
“Hi, Matt. This is Jennifer Marlowe.”
“Ah, yes, Ms. Marlowe, of the California Marlowes! What can I do for you today?”
“I want you to convert all my LexCorp stock and options into cash as fast as you possibly can. Speed is more important than maximizing profit.”
Matt hesitated, then said, “Are you sure about this? If you sell over the next few days – “
“No. Now. All of it. Don’t dump it, but get it done by close of business today.”
He sighed into the phone. “Okay, if that’s what you want. Mind if I ask why?”
“I’ve been presented with an impressive opportunity and I don’t want to miss it.”
He waited a moment, then asked, “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”
“That’s it. Can you do it?”
“Well, yeah, but you’ll lose some profit if you sell it all today.”
“Just do it, Matt. I have some places I’d like to put that money in a few days. I don’t want to get taxed to death on those meager profits you’re going to earn for me.”
The broker hesitated another moment, then asked, “You don’t have any information the Securities and Exchange Commission would frown on you having, do you?”
“Matt, I am not trading on insider information. This I promise you as a cop’s daughter.”
Matt sighed into the phone. “I will do it, Ms. Marlowe, beginning as soon as we hang up.”
“In that case, we’ll chat later. Bye.”
She disconnected the phone line to call Mrs. Cox once again and her eyes flickered up at the movement near the stairway door. A young man with a thin mustache and wearing a LexCorp parking attendant’s uniform with its short-billed flat cap was exiting the stairs and heading her way.
Jennifer’s first thought on seeing him was that he looked like a scruffy nerfherder, thin and fair of face with hard eyes focused on her boss’ office door. He walked oddly, almost as if he were more female than –
In her mind, she superimposed a woman’s features on his face. It was a skill her father had taught her when she was in grade school, one that had come in handy several times. She waited for the mental ‘click’ that told her that she’d found a match.
She almost laughed aloud when the image ‘clicked’ in her mind. The young intruder wasn’t a man. It was a woman.
A woman named Lois Lane.
Jennifer would have bet every naturally blonde strand of hair on her head that Lois was not here for a social visit. And the way her denim uniform jacket bounced hard against her right hip told the cop’s daughter that the visitor was carrying a weapon in her pocket.
Standard procedure dictated that if anyone ever got this far with any kind of weapon, the staff was to press the emergency button under any desk and sprint for the safe room in the far corner of the office. That room would withstand anything short of repeated rocket impacts, and triggering that alarm would also alert LexCorp security of an armed intruder. The entire floor could be flooded with any number of debilitating gasses in seconds, and because the alarm would also activate a hermetic seal on Mr. Luthor’s door, no one could get in without the aforementioned rockets.
Jennifer’s hand crept under her desk.
She made eye contact with Lois.
Lois slowed down and stared directly into Jennifer’s soul.
Jennifer tried to read Lois’ mind and failed.
She thought about how much money she’d made working here and how little real evidence she had of any wrongdoing on Luthor’s part.
She thought about what she knew, what little she could prove, what she suspected, and what her father had told her over the years.
She thought about having to start over at another company, maybe even another line of business altogether, and how difficult that would be.
Then she pressed the button to unlock her boss’ office door.
“Have a nice day, sir,” she called.
Lois nodded at her once and pushed into the office.
Jennifer picked up the phone and called her father at home. When he answered, she spoke the code phrase they’d developed for just such a final occasion.
“Dad? This is Jennifer. The Hindenburg is about to go down in flames. Yes. I’ll be there as soon as possible. Bye.”
She hung up the phone, then pushed her chair back and picked up her purse. “Bailey?”
The serious brunette at the next desk gave her a quizzical look. “Yeah, Jen?”
“Let’s go get some lunch. My treat.”
“Where?”
“You like Mexican?”
“If there’s a side order of antacids, sure. What’s the place called?”
“Café Policia, One Police Plaza.”
Bailey hesitated a moment, then smiled and picked up her clutch. “Sounds like a plan to me. You’re on.”
*****
Clark was beyond frustrated. There was no trace of Lois to be found anywhere. None of his snitches had any current gossip on her, and the few of Lois’ snitches who would talk to him had nothing. Even Bobby Bigmouth came up dry, despite Clark’s warning that he would force-feed Bobby a Happy Meal the next time they met.
Bobby’s face had fallen so far at the threat that Clark had taken pity on him and bought the perpetually ravenous man a Chinese feast.
As he walked back to the Planet to check in with Perry, a police car swished past him with lights flashing but no siren. More importantly, Clark heard through the open window the radio dispatcher say the words “Gunshot victim outside LexCorp headquarters.”
Those words galvanized him to action.
He thought about slipping into an alley to change into Superman, but instead he kept his civvies on and began running at top human speed toward the convergence of lights eleven blocks away. Now he could hear sirens in the distance, and he followed them as they gathered around the gunshot victim like white-tipped sharks assessing a shipwreck survivor.
He whipped off his glasses and stared through the intervening buildings to see what was going on. When he saw Nigel St. John being loaded into an ambulance, he picked up his speed even more and risked hurdling the hood of a parked car to shorten his trip.
If this wasn’t Lois’ handiwork he’d eat his word processor.
He slipped his glasses back on and slowed to a fast jog as he entered the alley where Nigel’s car was parked. The paramedics were still securing Nigel’s gurney into the ambulance, so he started breathing heavily and pulled out his press pass.
Two burly uniformed officers held out their hands to stop him. “Hey, buddy, you got no business in there. Back off, okay?”
He lifted his ID and panted, “Daily Planet! Need to see – gasp – Bill Henderson!”
One cop shook his head, but the other frowned and said, “What’s your name?”
“Clark Kent.”
“And you’re with what paper?”
“The – pant – the Daily Planet!”
The second cop turned to the first one and said, “This is the guy Henderson told us to look out for. Wants to see him if he shows up.”
The first cop shrugged. “So take him to Henderson. He can yell at both of you.”
The second cop looked at Clark. “Come on, Kent, let’s go find us a detective.”
They hadn’t taken three steps when Bill Henderson broke away from the group around the car’s open driver’s door and waved for Clark to come closer. “About time you got here, Kent. Stan, you go back over with Mitchell and don’t let anyone else in the alley.”
The cop with Clark nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Bill took Clark’s arm and dragged him to the open ambulance doors. “You can have two minutes with Mr. British Super Secret Agent here. They’ve already hit him up with some painkillers and he’s a little loopy. See what you can get from him.”
“For publication?”
“I don’t care if you put it on a billboard outside the mayor’s office! Just find out where Lois is.”
Clark hopped up into the ambulance and leaned over Nigel’s prone form. “Hi, Nigel. I guess you won’t be throwing punches at me any time soon.”
The female paramedic glanced at Clark with wide eyes, then went back to work security the plasma IV attached to Nigel’s arm. Nigel rolled his head toward Clark and opened one eye, then the other. “Oh! Hello, Mr. Kent. Fancy meeting you here.”
“I don’t fancy it at all. I just want to know if Lois was the one who shot you.”
Nigel grinned almost sideways. “Miss Lane? No, it was a young man named Tyler something, or perhaps something Tyler, I do not know which. Last name, first name, don’t know. He shot me.”
“Why?”
Nigel frowned as if studying Clark’s glasses. “Why what? Oh, you mean why did Tyler shoot me? Perhaps he was angry about something, but I really cannot say because I don’t know. Don’t know, don’t know, don’t know – “
Clark reached down and thumped him between the eyes with one finger. “Stay with us, Nigel.”
The woman paramedic turned to Clark and hissed, “You can’t do that, sir! This man’s been shot!”
“He wasn’t shot in the forehead and I won’t touch his shoulder.” Clark looked back at Nigel, who now appeared much more lucid. “Answer my question.”
“I can’t. I’m drugged.”
“You’re not as think as you drugged I am.”
The nonsense seemed to baffle Nigel for a moment and Clark took advantage. “Why did Lois shoot you, Nigel?”
“She wanted information.”
“Oh? What kind of information?”
“She wanted to know about – “ Nigel abruptly clamped his mouth shut as if abruptly realizing that he’d said the wrong thing.
“Come on, Nigel, spill it. Or do you want another thump?”
Nigel’s eyes almost crossed as he stared at Clark’s hand approaching his face. “No! I mean, no, don’t thump me. I could get a concussion.”
The paramedic frowned. “That’s very unlikely, sir.”
Nigel blinked. “I don’t think as strong as he knows he is.”
Clark and the paramedic both paused at that piece of gibberish. The paramedic shook her head at Clark and said, “I don’t think you’ll get anything more lucid from him than that, sir.”
Clark sighed deeply. “Okay. If Lois shoots Luthor, we’ll have a charge of obstructing justice to add to his crimes.”
Nigel’s eyes opened wide. “What? Wait! I have never obstructed justice! Not today, I mean.”
Clark smiled. “Look, Nigel, I’m all for you getting well so we can go a couple more rounds together, but it won’t happen unless you tell us where Lois went. Okay?”
Nigel held Clark’s gaze for a moment, then exhaled sharply. “Very well. The last time I saw her she was entering the LexCorp parking garage via the side entrance. From there she has access to almost every floor of the main office.”
“You think she’s going after your boss?”
“Probably.” Nigel’s mouth grew into a lopsided smile. “Perhaps we will all be quite fortunate and they will shoot each other. Would that not be a fitting end for such a bothersome woman?”
Clark licked his lips. “I don’t think it would be.” He reached out and patted Nigel on the leg. “You get well, okay? You need to be healthy so you can serve all those long sentences the judge is going to give you.” He turned to the paramedic. “What’s his prognosis?”
She shrugged. “Assuming the surgeons don’t find more damage than I think he has, and assuming that he doesn’t pop an artery on the way to the ER, he’ll live. He might not have full use of his arm without some extensive physical therapy.”
Clark smiled. “Hear that, Nigel? You’re probably going to live. Maybe I can come and cheer you on while you do your therapy.”
Ignoring Nigel’s drugged glare of death, Clark turned and hopped to the street. “Bill, I’m going after Lois. Nigel says she’s going to Luthor’s office to shoot him.”
Henderson frowned. “She’s already in the building or we’d have found her by now. And we can’t get in there without a warrant or a reported criminal act.”
Clark lifted one eyebrow. “I can get in. And I’ll call you on Perry’s cell phone when I find her. Wish me luck.”
Henderson shook his head. “Can’t let you do that, Clark. In fact, I can’t let you go in there by yourself at all.”
“How are you going to stop me?”
“Like this.” Henderson turned and took three slow, meandering steps away from Clark and put his hand on another uniformed officer’s shoulder. “Patrolman, I want you to stay with this man.”
“Which man, sir?”
Henderson turned and pointed at Clark, who by this time was nearly at the door at the end of the alley. “Oh, rats. It was that guy right down there. He’s pretty fast, isn’t he? Look, if you see him again, make sure you stay with him.”
The patrolman frowned and nodded. “Sure. Uh, how long do I stay with him?”
Henderson shrugged. “I’d say fifteen seconds should do it.”
Clark smiled to himself as he the door closed and cut off the rest of the conversation. Bill was a better friend to Lois than she knew. Maybe Clark could get them both to admit it to each other once all this was over.
First, though, he had to make sure this thing was actually over.
