He knew it was Bruno Mannheim. Maggie Sawyer knew it was Bruno Mannheim. Even Inspector Henderson was convinced it was Bruno Mannheim.
Wasn't like they could do anything about it.
As frustrating as it was to be Clark Kent, unable to print any of the things Superman knew. It was even worse to have all this power as Superman and do nothing with it.
"The bank was robbed at the same time he had me distracted," Clark... or Superman had insisted in the small room he was spending his lunch hour in as Henderson shook his head and Sawyer chainsmoked furiously in the corner.
"And it doesn't prove anything."
"He said 'the boys are all done.' What else could that mean after the bank..."
"Listen, Superman..." Henderson rubbed his eyes. "I am as frustrated as you are. We all want Mannheim, but we can't touch him."
"What about for the bomb prank?" Sawyer let out a stream of smoke. "Can we at least give him a week in the communal showers over that?"
"Can't prove it was Mannheim," Henderson choked out, waving at the smoke.
"But the guy called him Bruno and Boss," Clark said tiredly. "I heard it. I..."
"Yes. You heard it. But, as much as we trust you, we... It's just your word. Even if you had a recording of the whole thing, one of his slimy lawyers would come up with a list of every Bruno in the tri-state area and a million reasons someone might call them Boss."
Sawyer cursed fluently and lit another cigarette of the end of her spent one.
"I'm not telling you anything you don't know, Sawyer." He waved his hand again. "And I thought you quit smoking already. Shit'll kill you."
"Either that or this job," she muttered. She stubbed out the old cigarette and pulled on the new.
He rolled his eyes and turned to Clark. "Listen, I appreciate what you're trying to do. All of us down here have had it easier since you flew in, but there isn't anything you can do right now. Right now, getting Mannheim is down to plain, old investigation." He leaned forward. "Now, I know you're nearly everywhere in this town. Do you have any kind of tip? Anything that can tell us where to start digging? Like... I don't know. What Lionel Luthor had that was such a hot commodity?"
Clark sighed and leaned against the door. He didn't want to lie. And he wasn't going to. "I have no way of knowing what they wanted," he said. "Lionel Luthor died long before I appeared on the scene." And it was true. Superman landed in Metropolis mere months ago, really. "Have you questioned his son?"
"Batshit," Sawyer grunted. "Guy wouldn't even let us in the gates. From what I hear, he's a step away from Belle Reve, anyway."
He felt strangely sad. Now that Lois had agreed to leave Lex alone, he didn't see him as a threat, but more of a... lost friend. Someone he'd never get back, might not want back, really, the way he had to tiptoe around him. But he didn't wish him ill. Just away. "I'll see what I can find out, if anything." He nodded to the both of them and moved to the door.
Sawyer followed him out, on his heels as he rushed to the elevator. "Why the exit?"
"There's nothing else I can do here." He pressed the down button. "I gave my statement and none of it even..."
"Yeah. That." She nodded towards Henderson's office. "But the elevator?" She shrugged. "Perfectly good window in there. No bars or anything."
Like he needed to be reminded he couldn't fly. It wasn't exactly something he wanted spread around. "If you're looking for a show," he said tightly, "I'm not up to performing right now, so..."
"Oh, calm down." She moved through the doors as they opened. "It was just my lame attempt at a joke. Henderson keeps telling me I'm not funny." She shrugged. "Maybe he's right." She nodded to him and he followed her in. "A bit ago, I did you a favor," she whispered as the doors slid closed. "I got you those phone records you wanted and I told you I might call in a favor of my own down the line." She took a deep breath. "This is that favor. Okay? This is what I want. I want to bring down Intergang and I don't care how long it takes. This is something I have to do."
He nodded. "It's your job. Your department. I get it."
"This is more than my job. This is..." She suddenly turned, pressing the Lobby button, but she didn't turn back. "This isn't what my life was supposed to be. I wasn't supposed to be a cop. I was supposed to be a... a person. Just someone who went to work and came home. Someone who left my job at where it belonged and then..." She turned from the panel. "You ever hear of Clarissa Lynch?"
"No. I..."
"Well, you should've. She was a coworker of mine at Harrigan's." She shook her head. "Just some Irish pub with good potato skins. But we used to hang out together. I was working my way through a communications degree, but she was an artist. The girl could take wet napkins and sculpt them into something beautiful. She was special. I don't think I ever told her that." She stared at the floor. "I never told her a lot of things. Like she was the first girl that I... I felt I might..." She squeezed her eyes shut. "Anyway, she died. Got shot when we were closing. She was cooperating with the robbers and everything, but they shot her anyway. They said it was a message. Some loan-shark deal with the owner. But Clarissa... But a human life was taken and it just... It was nothing. It was a message. I couldn't stand it. Killing a girl with her whole life before her as some kind of power play. There were whispers of Intergang at the time, the name Morgan Edge floating around and I couldn't believe it. Just killing someone like it was nothing just to leave a message. Like they didn't have a post-it handy and 'Oh, here. Let's just kill this girl.' It was just... Anyway, the point is that I can have some sympathy for the odd petty criminal with a bad childhood. I can feel for a junkie or a hooker, but these crime bosses are scum, through and through. I feel nothing but revulsion and I..." She pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from her jacket.
Clark cleared his throat.
She looked up. "What?"
"I know you're feeling bad, but..." He nodded his head to a no smoking sign above their heads.
She rolled her eyes and put the pack back. "Guess I can wait till I get outside." She stared closely at him as the doors opened. "You really are a good guy, aren't you?" She gave a harsh bark of a laugh and moved into the lobby. "You hear about the other hero types in other cities and the vigilante methods, roughing up the nastier types, but you... You gently subdue the criminals and call the authorities and, usually, they don't have a scratch on them. You play by the rules."
"I try to."
She whirled on him. "Well, stop. You can't get a guy like Mannheim by quoting bible verses at him until he betters himself. You need to play it as dirty as he does." She moved outside and he followed, trying to ignore the stares. He was kind of getting used to it.
"I don't know what you want. I can't just find the guy and take him out. I wasn't rai..." He stopped himself. "It's just not who I am," he amended.
"Fine, then. Just let him get away." She stopped at the steps and lit up. "Oh, don't mind me. I'm just a girl who got so close to everything she ever wanted only to have it blocked by the precious rules. Fuck the rules," she grunted. She took a deep drag. "I know you're doing all you can, but... I feel like you're holding something back. I don't know. I... I want to trust you. Obviously, I kind of do or I wouldn't have told you my life story back there." She glanced sideways at him. "That one of your little things? Your powers? Getting people to spill? Because it could really come in handy if..."
"No." He shook his head. "I wish. At best, I can tell if someone's lying."
"Yeah?"
"Accelerated heartrate, perspiration, things like that."
"Well, I can't do all that. But I've learned to read body language. Shifting eyes and fidgeting and you... You were giving off a mess when Henderson asked about Lionel Luthor."
Clark tried to stay completely still. "Like I said, I came to town long after..."
"Listen, if you're holding something back, I'm sure you have a damned good reason. Like I said, I trust you. But I also trust that you know you owe me and that you'll get me what I need. I don't care how you get it. You can see through walls and hear whispers. That's gotta tell you what might be in a locked box, at the very least. Because, if Mannheim wants it, it's most likely bad news for all of us."
And especially for me, he thought, but couldn't say. He nearly wanted to warn her. But he couldn't. He couldn't tell her that the contents of that box may have everything to do with him, considering Lionel spent time as Jor-El's messenger. The things revealed in the interview with Lois were about all the public, including the police, needed to know about him. He couldn't tie himself to Lionel. Being tied to Lionel meant being tied to Smallville and he needed to create distance from that town and the meteor showers, the meteor rocks... if someone found out...
He was afraid this was exactly what they'd find out, at the very least.
On a more selfish level, there was also the possibility of being linked back to Clark Kent, who some seemed to remember as a sometime friend of the Luthors. There went his entire life if that happened. There were so many reasons Superman couldn't...
"I can't," he found himself saying. "I wouldn't know where to start with that box."
Sawyer sighed. "Fine. Maybe you've done enough. I understand that there are other catastrophes all over town and..."
"But I might know someone who might." It was strange, he often felt sort of useless, just being Clark, compared to what Superman could do. But this was one time when being Clark was the easier road. Clark Kent, sometime friend of the Luthors, had every reason to find all the things Superman couldn't. And to possibly get them to Sawyer. "I need to think this over." Figure out what exactly a lowly investigative reporter could reasonably do without letting things get too close to home. "Someone will be in touch."
Sawyer stared at him. "I'll say it again. I trust you. Hope I'm not wrong." She pitched her cigarette towards the steps and he rushed forward.
He caught it, crushing the lit end between his fingers. "Didn't want to force you to give yourself a littering citation."
"As I definitely would," she said with a slight smile. "Thanks for that."
He tossed it into a stone trashcan with some distaste. "Henderson's right. These things will kill you."
"As I seem to like repeating myself today," she muttered, taking her pack out again. "It's either that or this job." She held up a new one with a wry smile. "Personally, I want a say in which."
He sped off. He understood the feeling. He wanted a say as well. He wanted more control of his life. Both of them. If Mannheim had something on Superman, then Clark Kent needed to protect him. It still seemed schizo and crazy, but he did have two identities and he was not about to let either go.
The problem was separating the two. What could Clark reasonably find out? If Intergang wanted something of Lionel's, it could have been found out through his earlier connection to Morgan Edge, who headed up Intergang during that summer when... No. He was Kal then. A little too close to Kal-El, which was a little too close to Superman and...
"You're giving off smoke."
"Huh?" Clark looked up, surprised to see Jimmy, surprised to see he was back at The Planet, as if on autopilot. He immediately looked down, checking that he was buttoned up.
"I said you were giving off smoke."
"I am?" He rubbed his eyes under his glasses, hoping he hadn't somehow...
"It's just an expression," Jimmy said, perching on the edge of his desk. "My mom used to say it. It means you're thinking too hard."
Clark sighed and leaned on his desk. "I have a lot to think about right now."
"Chief putting the pressure on you?"
"Only daily." He'd actually been on the recieving end of an hour long diatribe just this morning, about how he shouldn't be depending on the police for info and how the best reporters point the police in the right direction.
"You should take a cue from Lois."
"That's what I keep hearing," Clark muttered to himself. He'd heard about Lane's greatest hits amid questions on where she was, to which he gave his standard answer of "Haven't heard from her." He was constantly afraid Perry would ask him if he saw her and he'd be startled into telling the truth.
"Yeah. Go on vacation," Jimmy was saying. "You look like you need it."
"I don't think I can." Not as Clark or Superman. Both had a tough time ahead.
"Not now. Maybe when Lois gets back. The Chief has her back on Monday, probably timed to the minute. You think she'll be here for the Christmas party Sunday?”
"Christmas?" He'd nearly forgot. It was exactly one week to Christmas.
"Best party of the year. And I'm not just saying that because I'm in charge. But I'll give you a teaser... Mexican." Jimmy preened slightly. "Yeah. It was kind of a no-brainer, with the sauces being red and green. I think it's festive. Rachel doesn't like my Christmas in Cabo theme, but that's just because she can't eat spicy food, not that she'd ever admit to anything as human as heartburn. She's nuts. You know, she actually wouldn't talk to me all day, just because she farted in front of me last night. I tried to tell her it was natural, but she gets all flustered whenever I bring it up." Jimmy grinned. "So I've brought it up all day, of course. Just can't help it." Jimmy peered at Clark. "You okay, CK? You really do look tired. It's six-thirty. You should..."
"Six-thirty?" Clark suddenly stood. "How long have I been sitting here?"
"Five hours." Jimmy shrugged. "I thought you were writing till I swung by and saw your monitor wasn't on."
He gathered his briefcase. "What the hell is wrong with me?" He was supposed to be at the farm by six. Then he'd have time to prepare her. Now...
"I'm telling you. Vacay. You've been here long enough for two weeks with pay. Just talk to the Chief and..."
"I'll think about it," Clark lied, forcing a smile. He wouldn't, not really. The last thing he wanted to bring up to Perry was vacation time.
He moved into the alleyway, not taking time to change, just rushing through bike lanes until he hit the freeway, clutching his briefcase close as he sped along the shoulder, then through fields until...
He stopped, nearly drooping with relief as he saw only his mother's truck in the yard. He still had some time. He moved toward the house, practicing his speech.
Lois, it's time you knew everything. There are things I've held back because I wasn't sure you were ready, but now is the time to... "What the..."
The barn was lit. It made no sense, considering there were no animals and, therefore, no work. He moved toward it, wondering what his mother was...
"Oh, my God." He heard a giggle. "That's not me."
He peered up the stairs. "Lois?"
"I'm a little busy, Cla... Clark!" She appeared at the railing, then bounded down the steps. "You have to see this." She grasped his hand and tugged. "You really have to see this."
He let her pull him up to the loft.
"I found the ugliest, most embarrassing picture of me. Look." She held up an album with a 5X7 smack in the middle. Her hair was blonde and in messy, lopsided pigtails. She was in front of one of those generic sky backgrounds used in school pictures. He could see braces, but she wasn't smiling, sort of grimacing. And one eye was closed. "Isn't it terrible?"
"Kind of. Maybe you just weren't ready for the flash."
"Or maybe I just wasn't ready to be seen in public." She shook her head, chuckling again. "Is this when I moved here?"
"You didn't have braces then. You can't be older than ten here."
"Must be after my mother left," she said softly. "Only a man would let a girl go for picture day looking like that." She shook herself, then smiled. "And only a parent would proudly display something that hideous."
"It's not that bad."
"Yes it is. This should have been burned on sight."
He shook his head, smiling slightly. "Then why aren't you burning it now?"
She stroked the plastic covering. "I don't know. It's kind of... normal, having an embarrassing picture. Just like anyone else." She closed the album and hugged it to her chest. "It's nice having a past you can actually see." She glanced around.
He did, too, finally noticing that the barn was cluttered with boxes and knickknacks and books and videos. "What is all this?"
"Memory lane. Your mom had Bart set it up."
"But in the barn? Lois, it's freezing."
"It's fine. I have a space heater and a warm sweater."
He glanced down. "Which you aren't wearing."
"Hmmm?" She dropped the album. "Oh, I must have taken it off. I hardly noticed. I had to see if I still fit this thing."
She was wearing a sleeveless, faded, red shirt, sort of low-cut. He knew it well. She'd worn that shirt almost weekly sophomore year. "It fits fine." Except for how she wasn't wearing a bra and it was cold out and he didn't need x-ray vision to see... He cleared his throat and looked away. "You should put something on."
"I was just going to."
He glanced back at her as she pulled on her sweater. "That's probably not warm enough. You'll catch a cold."
She rolled her eyes. "Were you always this much of a worry wart over me?"
"No," he said sadly. He wasn't. He’d often let her put herself in the way of things more dangerous than a cold. "But I'd like to make up for lost time."
"Well, I'm packing it in." She moved past him to a table littered with books. "But not because you say so. But because we have to talk." She put several in her arms and turned to him. "And we aren't talking because you booked time, but because I want to. Got it?"
"I..."
"I get it, Clark." She turned back and piled on more books. "I get that we have a history that's... I don't know what it is. I've hardly begun to untangle that mess. But I accept that there's a reason you're so... involved." She whirled on him, nearly dropping her books before he took them from her. "But that gives you no right to... Thank you... no right to dictate my actions or choose where I stay." She lifted her chin. "But just so you know, I'm staying here for now. But only because I want to." She turned back to the table and piled on more books. "But I want my car. I need to go to Metropolis."
"Do you really think you're ready to just go back to work and..."
"This isn't about work. It's... personal."
"Personal how?"
"Personal meaning it's my business."
"No one's keeping you prisoner," he said carefully. "But you fainted and that's why I thought..."
"Like that's new." She piled one last book on top. "I've been fainting for months now."
"Would you be serious?"
She started towards the steps with her pile. "I am. Things suck right now and I'm the first to admit it, but I am a grown woman and I won't be treated like a helpless child."
"I never..."
"You can put on all the sexy he-man acts you want, but I am a free agent."
He stopped on the landing. "Sexy?"
She stopped at the bottom. "What?"
"You said..."
"No, I didn't. You're hearing things. Anyway..." She turned. "I'm fine. I know I fainted. I was probably not eating right or something. I get it now. Balanced diet, proper sleep. I'm working on it. But I don't need constant supervision like I'm an invalid or a crazy... p-person..." She stopped in the wide doorway, suddenly lit. The books dropped from her hands. "Clark?"
Clark rushed down the rest of the stairs, dropping his own load. "Lois? What's wrong?"
She stared ahead of her, frozen. "It's here. We have to hide." She pulled on his arm, but he looked ahead at the car pulling in, then at her, wondering what had gotten into her.
"Lois, it's just a car.” Of course, it wasn’t just any car. “Okay. I wanted to prepare you more, but..."
"It's been following me all week. Everywhere I go, tan sedan. From here to Metropolis. I don't know how they found me here." Her eyes were wide and frantic.
The lights cut and he looked out the doorway. Her grip on his arm tightened as the driver's side door opened. "Lois, calm down. It's only..."
Lana stepped out and Lois slumped forward.
He caught her as she became dead weight in his arms.
Again.
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Chapter Twelve
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