Chapter 33
Lex stared at the dim ceiling of his hospital room, hissing at the pain of even the smallest movements. Even if he clenched his fist, it shot up his chest in rivulets of fiery agony. He'd regained consciousness, on and off as he was stitched up. And why? Because no anesthetic could calm the horror of it, the near humiliation of it, used as some cultish psycho's canvas. He'd rather have taken a few more stabs. They might have hurt less.
The bastard had carved him up, just took a knife and etched into him as if he couldn't find a notepad. Gone to the store for milk. Back to finish killing you later. Kisses, Hulking Psychopath. He grunted as he tried to lift his head, wanted to see what was so important it had to be forever scarred on his chest.
"Sir, don't try to get up."
Of course. Fucking Regan would come in just as he could nearly see it. He laid his head back again, spent.
"I got everything taken care of."
"Clearly that wasn't the case earlier this evening, was it?" God, he missed Gina. Hardly anyone had tried to kill him in his own home for six blissful months. "Police," he said rather weakly, the languor of whatever they'd given him stole over him again. "What do they know?"
"Nothing. I knew you wouldn't want us to cooperate. I have a private team tracking your assailant, but we don't have many leads."
"It was the manager," Lex gasped, trying to keep his eyes open, "from the bank in Zurich. He must have been stationed at the bank, waiting for someone to open the deposit box. Apparently I'm not the only one interested in its contents." He grunted as even the slight movement of his head shot across his torso. But he wasn't about to sit here and let Regan take over, ruin how far he'd come. He sat up, using everything in him not to swoon from the drugs... or the pain.
"Sir..."
"He was trying to kill me," Lex went on. He needed to keep talking, even if it was to Fucking Regan. He hissed as he took a step. But it was fine the pain was good. It meant he was alive. That the Hulk's blonde cousin hadn't succeeded.
"He was trying to do more than that." Regan nodded to Lex's chest.
Lex stared at him, weak and in agony and just plain fucking irritated that Regan never got to the point. He looked around for a mirror, then finally grappled to his side, grabbing at a reflective tray. The angry red welts and black stitches formed what looked like a cross and a diamond and, as it made no sense, it had to be related to the Traveler. "Symbols," Lex breathed. "He knows. He's after the cryptograph."
That much was obvious, what with how he'd brained Lex in Zurich for getting the box. But did he know where it was now?
"Get the jet ready just in case. And get me some damned clothes. I'm going to Milash."
"Sir, you're seriously wounded. And he is under guard."
"Well, so was I," he snapped. "So I don't think I'll be leaving much up to staff anymore."
**********************
Chloe laid in the dark, a forgotten book on her chest, waiting for Jimmy as she'd done all day, thinking of what Megan had said earlier, about him constantly going off on assignment for Lex. And she knew when it started, that phone call in this very apartment, when they were on this very bed that night the DDS hag had let loose on her. That night she'd been determined to make it work with him. She had to be honest, though, she'd been relieved when he'd gone away, rather relieved all this week with his late nights and early mornings. She had too damned much else to do herself.
But not tonight. Tonight, she was even more determined. Because now she saw it clearly. Every time the two of them seemed to get anywhere, it was blocked by something relating to Lex. First by Lex showing up his damned self just when she'd decided to be... mostly honest with Jimmy, and now by Jimmy having to rush off on some assignment every damned spare second... for Lex. It was almost like Lex had something against... Well, he would, wouldn't he?
It didn't matter. This stopped tonight. Tonight, there would be sex, sex, and then more sex. Because Lex can't win! She stopped that line of thinking. That wasn't why. It couldn't, shouldn't, and wouldn't be why. Anyway, she wasn't succeeding even tonight as Jimmy had promised first dinner, then dessert and coffee, then... no show. So she'd changed into pajamas, and not even sexy ones, and waited, thinking if he didn't show, she'd at least fall asleep comfortably.
She braced herself as she heard the slight snick of the door unlocking. It was Jimmy. This was happening tonight. That would show Lex... No. This was happening because she wanted to be with him. She'd made a conscious choice to be with Jimmy. And she was sticking to it and she wasn't going let Lex take that choice away from her anymore.
She shook off Lex because that wasn't, absolutely wasn't, why. She tried to make her voice sultry. "I'm not gonna ask you where you've been or why you stood me up..." Not since she already knew. She turned on the bedside lamp as Jimmy turned to her. "...as long as you picked up cheesecake to say you're sorry."
"Oh, yeah." He gave her a rather nervous smile. "Well, the hospital cafeteria isn't known for its dessert list."
"Hospital?" She sat up, putting her book aside. "Are you all right?"
"Me? Yeah, I'm -- I'm great." Jimmy moved to her quickly, sounded keyed up. "I'm making page two. Lex is the one who's not doing so hot." He jumped on the bed. With his shoes on. But she decided not to point that out as Lex...
"What? Was there an accident?" She tried, determined to keep her voice light.
"Well, not unless tripping can cause multiple stab wounds."
Jimmy sounded awfully perky about it, so Lex... he must be okay. Not that she cared anymore. She didn't.
"Look, I know it sounds sleazy, but it turns out that ambulance-chasing pays off. I got a candid shot of Lex being admitted to the hospital."
So Lex was in the hospital. Not like that didn't happen every week or two. She shrugged it off. It wouldn't stop her. Because if he was okay, then he still couldn't win. "I think I'll pass on an early peep show. But, um, you know, Jimmy, there are ways other than cheesecake that you can make up for being late." She moved in to nuzzle his cheek, kiss his neck... Nothing. He just kept talking.
"As far as I could tell, Lex's security is not exactly cooperating with the police in the 'let's find out what happened' department."
No surprise, there. She wished he'd stop talking about Lex. She was trying to keep him as firmly out of her mind as possible. This usually worked just fine with Lex. She only had to touch his neck for him to... No. This was Jimmy. This had nothing to with Lex. She moved over him, thinking she should maybe take a stab at figuring out what Jimmy liked. Most of their sex had just... happened. No real nuance or craft. Of course, she knew better now what sex could really...
"Don't you find this a little suspicious?" Jimmy asked, not even acknowledging that she was trying to have some stupid sex with him.
And yes. She did find it suspicious that her boyfriend was being kept very conveniently away from her by Lex of all people. What a year to suddenly take an interest in Jimmy. If he was hurt, it was his damned doing. It didn't mean he got a pass. She wouldn't let his tactics work.
But, obviously, this wasn't happening tonight.
She chuckled and sat up. "Well, given the large number of dead bodies rolling around lately, I, uh, thought that Lex had eliminated all of his enemies. Why would someone attack him?" she asked, trying for mild curiosity. Why wouldn't they from what she knew? But Jimmy didn't know that. She held out a hand for his phone. She'd worked damned hard to get in the damned mood in the first place. Getting there again was kind of beyond her, so she might as well ruin it all the way and get a look at Lex's latest wound.
"Well, the why... isn't as interesting as the how." Her smile fell away as she stared at the paramedics sponging at the blood on Lex's chest. "Along with the stab wounds, the attacker chiseled a calling card into Lex's chest."
"You mean like a name?" she asked, keeping her tone light even as her stomach dropped.
"No, it's like some... freaky symbols."
She scrolled to the next picture, sickened. It wasn't just the symbols and what they might mean, but to see Lex mutilated... She swallowed convulsively, feeling nauseated. "Gross," she said, trying for a laugh. She moved off the bed. "Good thing you didn't bring me that cheesecake," she said, surreptitiously emailing herself the pic. "I'd have lost my appetite for sure after that."
"Chloe, I'm really sorry. I should have at least called or..."
"No. It's alright." She pasted on a smile and moved back to him, lightly tossing him the phone as it had sent. "I mean, Lex has been tossing all this work your way. You probably need to get back to The Planet." And she needed better resolution and a printout and Clark on the line. "I really do understand."
Jimmy shrugged and moved off the bed. "Hey, it's after midnight. Working hours are over. And you said you wanted me to make it up to you," he said with a slight laugh as he came closer.
Oh, Boy. If Lex's bloody, carved up chest wasn't a mood killer, Jimmy's tendency to laugh when he tried to be sexy was. Maybe she could find some nice way to point that out to him now that they were giving it a real try... and maybe not on a night when psychos were slashing kryptonian doodles on Lex's chest.
"I'm just really beat, Jimmy."
"Okay. We can just sleep. I am kind of..."
"But you! You're on the tail of a real story, here," she said, trying to sound impressed, while knowing Jimmy would end up with as many dead ends as she would further trails. But she had to get him out of here. How else could she leave? "You don't want to let the trail get cold."
"You're right." He smiled. "I mean, this is pretty exciting."
She pushed back a slight flair of annoyance that he was still so perky about this as he grabbed his bag and rushed out. A man had been stabbed and horribly mutilated.
Not that she cared. It wasn't her place to care. She kept telling herself that as she drove to Smallville's Med Center to meet Clark, who was as irritated as Jimmy was perky about Lex's wound.
"You dragged me out of bed because someone hurt Lex," he said in an annoyed drawl.
"They did more than just hurt, Clark. Jimmy snapped a photo." She handed it to him. "That was carved onto Lex's chest," she said in a low voice, wondering if someone, anyone, might have some reaction to the fact that someone had craved something on Lex's... on anyone's skin. Fine. She cared. As she would for anyone. "What does it say?" she asked, pushing her thoughts away.
"They're symbols," Clark said dully. "One for traveler and the other for savior."
Chloe squinted at him. "There's only one group that appointed themselves the savior of the Traveler." But she'd thought they were the only ones fighting against Lex.
"Veritas," Clark said in a hushed voice.
"But Queen, Teague, Swann, Lionel -- all the members of Veritas are dead."
"So, who else could know about the Traveler?"
"Or, more importantly, how to control him? I mean, Lionel said whoever had the two keys would find the device to control you. Now, what if Lex was attacked because he has both keys and he used them?" she said in a rush, then decided to come clean about her earlier findings as there was reason to panic now. "While you were away, I tracked Lex and the keys to a safety-deposit box in Zurich."
"Then we're too late?"
"Well, as far as I can tell, you're still steering your own ship, which means that whatever was in that box hasn't taken the wheel...yet." Why did she add that? Now he'd start moping about how hopeless it was and...
"Well, that's comforting," he said in a rather defeated tone.
"But maybe it's because Lex doesn't know who you are," she tried. They had a chance. He had to see that, keep fighting. She did not want a repeat of yesterday.
"There's only one way to find out." Clark's voice was grim as he moved down the hall.
"You're not serious." She'd been resisting seeking out Lex's room herself, but for a different reason. Because Lex did this to his damned self. He could walk around with that scar. She wasn't going to take it or his pain away. Not again.
She moved after Clark, thinking she should be glad he was doing something after yesterday. But not this. How many times had Clark had these tete-a-tetes with Lex. They never ended well and this could be even worse if Lex knew. She rushed to catch up, feeling panic creep in as Clark threw open the door.
But there was nothing. "Looks like your Q&A will have to wait." Good. It was good that he wasn't here. For the both of them.
*********************
Lex stumbled from his car in the rain, ignoring the pain in his chest and clutching his gun as he moved to Milash's workshop. He heard shots. Two loud reports and that muffled zip of a silencer. Three times for that. As he didn't equip his guards with silencers, he knew who it must be. The hulking man. He moved faster, but tried to stay quiet, as much as the burning in his chest made him want to howl.
He moved softly into the doorway as the man advanced on Milash, cowering on the floor, holding out the cryptograph. "No. Don't. Here, take it. Take it, please!" The idiot.
Lex doubted a guy that used human skin for his scribbles would spare either of them, cryptograph or no. He didn't hesitate. He took the shot, rather glad he'd sent Regan to ready the jet instead of bringing his incompetent ass here. Lex had wanted to take care of this sadistic fuck himself.
He fell hard, revealing Milash still cowering, now staring at Lex as he moved closer, flinching away as he bent to pick up the fallen cryptograph.
"Just get up," Lex groaned, annoyed at a fresh rush of pain through his chest, as if it was catching up to all the movement.
He glanced at his guards. He couldn't remember the man's name, but he was lying on his stomach, unmoving, a puddle of blood spreading around him. He knew the woman --Cheryl. She'd been young, blonde, pretty, smiled a little easily for a guard, but he'd hired her anyway, trying to tell himself it wasn't because of Chloe. He pushed both women out of his mind. With any luck, he'd never see Chloe again. As for Cheryl, she was dead-eyed, rivulets of blood running into her blonde hair from her open mouth. There was nothing but death here now.
"We need to leave," he said, shoving the cryptograph at a shaking Milash. "Whoever he works for, we don't want them catching up."
******************
"Savior. Traveler," Clark muttered, pacing Isis' control room. He'd been doing nothing but pacing and muttering while she was trying to figure out if the symbols for savior and traveler had any sort of special meaning when carved in skin. What little she knew of Kryptonian culture, they weren't into human sacrifice.
"I guess skywriting is passé," Chloe said as lightly as she could, trying to keep her eyes on the digital symbols on her screens and not the bloody pictures of Lex splashed on the larger monitors that circled the room.
"Chloe, the person who did this may have kidnapped Lex."
She highly doubted it. If anyone was likely to traipse out of a hospital with stabs and fresh scars, it was Lex. "If they did, they only did it to save you," she pointed out. Not that it was a good thing, but it did mean there wasn't a second person grabbing for the Traveler's puppet strings, which de-complicated some of this.
"That's the last thing I need -- someone going around killing people in my name."
"That's probably how God felt about the crusades," Chloe said, lifting an eyebrow. Not expecting Clark to laugh, but maybe tamp down the obvious Messiah complex he was developing. Prophecies and secret societies might give a guy ideas.
Clark rolled his eyes. "Why carve Kryptonian symbols into Lex's chest?"
"Lex got himself into this," she told him. That's what she'd been telling herself and it would work. One of these times.
"But I let him."
Chloe ignored his not-quite productive brooding and focused on the larger screens, grimacing as she did so. She's seen enough of Lex's blood tonight and the idea of a him being carved into like initials on an oak tree still disturbed her to no end. But she had to look again. Maybe they missed something in the actual carving. Something that explained why the hell a person would do this, even if it never touched on how the hell a person could be so sick.
"Wait. Go back. Right there, where the symbols overlap." Clark pointed at the screen.
Chloe zoomed in, pursing her lips.
"Chloe, it creates a third symbol -- sanctuary."
She glanced at her own screens, then highlighted the top left on the photo. "Like this?" It looked like a lowercase L and an uppercase A crossing each other. But she had seen it in her database at some point while cataloging symbols.
"Yeah. There's no Kryptonian word that translates directly to church. Sanctuary would be the closest match. And if you look at it that way, then savior could be..."
"Angel or saint," Chloe finished. It was worth a shot. It was the only break they'd had in hours. Saint, Traveler, Sanctuary... "The patron saint of travelers is... St. Christopher. Hand me your phone," she said absently as she tried to narrow down the possible churches or... "Perfect." No narrowing. She entered the address into his phone. "Everything you need at your fingertips. That'll take you where you need to go. Okay, there's only one St. Christopher's cathedral on this continent, and it's in Montréal."
*****************************
"That man was going to kill me," Milash said for the seemingly thousandth time. You'd think he'd never been assaulted before. Of course, maybe he hadn't. It was easy to forget, with his life, that most people didn't get nearly killed on a weekly basis. He wondered again, as he often had this year, what it must be like to have such a simple life. "He was after the cryptograph," Milash went on.
"Well, I guess I underestimated its value," Lex said, freshly annoyed. Every damned time he got close to anything, someone tried to kill him. Well, he wasn't going to rest this time. No staring morosely into his scotch with a crackling fire. He would keep going until he really was dead.
"I am not surprised, considering what I found."
Lex turned to him sharply. "Go on."
"Every artist leaves his mark," Milash wheezed, pulling out a small piece of the cryptograph, handing it to Lex with a magnifying glass, "his individual signature, if you like. This piece was designed by a renowned German watchmaker named Dietrich Brauer."
Lex stared at the tiny mark, like a flower with four diamond-like petals. "A watchmaker?"
"Brauer catered to European noble families, making hundreds of timepieces. And then, one day, he just went into seclusion. Rumors swirled that an unknown patron had commissioned him to make not -- not a watch but a magnificent clock. Brauer's standard -- his masterpiece."
"So, what does this masterpiece have to do with the cryptograph?"
"Only one sketch existed of the clock after it disappeared during the second world war. The gears on that sketch match this exactly."
"So nobody knows where the clock is now?"
"It was lost for decades. But recently, it resurfaced as a donation from a wealthy philanthropist."
"What was the philanthropist's name?"
"I believe the donor's name was Dr. Swann."
"Virgil Swann." Another deceased member of Veritas, haunting him with these scavenger hunts from beyond the grave.
"Swann posthumously donated this standard to a church -- St. Christopher's cathedral in Montréal, Quebec."
Quebec now. Lex supposed he should be glad to have another lead, but he'd gone to Zurich and all he got for it was hit on the head, then carved up. But hell... What the hell else did he have to do? He had no family. He had no friends. He didn't even have his debatable good looks, with this ugly, mottled scar forever etched on his chest. He had nothing in his life, nothing but this search.
By the time they were in the air, he felt marginally better. Maybe it was the painkiller he downed with his scotch. He'd told himself not to drink so much, but just one... and maybe one more pill. He shook it into his hand and downed it with a long gulp, wondering if this was what it would take to make his chest stop burning, his side stop sending fresh stab sounds through his body. He'd taken the pills with him, but left the antibiotics. He'd have to remember to take them when he got home, if he lived and everything.
Fucking Regan should have made sure he brought them. Gina would have made sure of that. He decided not to light into him as Regan seemed slightly upset they lost Cheryl and... what's-his-face today. He'd just have to accept that Regan was no Gina. Maybe Mercer, maybe when she arrived, somebody, anybody would take care of him... if he lived.
Lex wondered, again this week, if he was becoming too damned soft.
He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, willing the scotch and the pills to work quickly. He moved toward Milash, working away with tiny magnified glasses perched on his nose. "We land in three hours," he grunted as he sat opposite him. "I hope that gives you enough time."
Milash took off the silly looking glasses. "Those guards are dead, I was almost killed, and I have told you everything that I know. And still you have practically abducted me. What have you got me into?"
"It's better you don't concern yourself with it," Lex said dully, his head lolling against the back of his seat. Of course, he was used to losing employees. With injuries, quitting, and even death, he went through them like tissue paper. If Milash was this upset at the guards, he'd have a damned heart attack at the rest of the story.
"You have put my life in danger," Milash was saying, "and now you refuse to let me go, I have a right to know what is the truth, considering there's a decent chance that you are going to kill me before I even get off of this plane. So... Why should I help you?"
"If you remember right, I saved your life back there." Lex lifted his head, though even that hurt. He was in pain, he was sweating through his favorite damned suit, and he was getting damned sick of everyone assuming he just went around killing every third person he saw.
"That was because you still needed me. And I -- and I think you are still needing me now."
Lex leaned back, annoyed that he did still need the whining old man. Not that he wanted to kill him, but he wanted to be be done with him.
"Mr. Luthor, in antiquities, providence is everything. The history of an object, the reason why it was made -- that is its true value," Milas said intensely. "There was a rumor that Brauer was commissioned to make the clock by a secret society of wealthy patrons. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
He did. And he suspected Milash knew he did. And the man went into seclusion, Milash said. He supposed that made sense. Most people with simple lives, people like Milash, would, finding out about secret societies and otherwordly prophecies. Maybe he'd tell Milash a piece of that truth he thought he wanted, but no more. "My father was one of them. My father was... was fixated." He picked up a piece of the cryptogram, held it up. These pieces of metal, he'd killed for them, he'd roughed up his wife for getting close to them, he'd neglected or abused his family by degrees for these bits of tin. Lex had to know what was worth it. "Everything he did, every act he made, was all aimed at one goal," Lex went on, leaning forward, "finding the truth, no matter what the cost. My father's obsession... made me an orphan long before he died. I've always wondered why." Lex sat back, in less pain now, the alcohol and vicodin finally taking effect. "That cryptograph..." He leaned forward again with the pain under control. Because Milash had to get it. "That cryptograph is gonna give me the answer," he hissed.
Milash stared at him, rather sadly, for a long time before he put on his glasses, began tinkering with the tiny pieces and gears again.
Lex leaned back, closed his eyes, wondered if he'd sleep. "I must warn you, Mister Luthor. My father, he was... an absent man as well. When he died, I looked through his... perepisyvat'sya... uh... correspondence, letters he never sent, writings, though he was not a man of many words. I kept thinking there... there I find it. There I find why. This... key, I suppose, to why he never seemed to... love enough. But there was nothing. In the end, I accept it. Sometimes, a father, he is not a good one. Do you see? And nothing... no truth, no knowledge will change that."
Lex opened his eyes, but didn't sit up again. He was finished moving for the next three hours. "Believe me, nothing will make up for my father. This is bigger than that." Besides, it was all he had now. He'd come too far. He had this horrible feeling that this was the last thing he had to look forward to.
****************************
Chloe dialed nervously, wondering why Clark hadn't called yet. He'd usually check in when he sped off somewhere this far away. And he'd been there a half-hour at the least.
"Hey, Clark, it's me. So, the LuthorCorp jet just left Smallville for Montréal, so what ever you can find up there, I suggest you find it fast." She didn't want to leave the rest in a voicemail, that her monitoring the PD had uncovered more of a blood trail. A man and a woman, employed by Luthorcorp had been found dead in the downtown office of an antiques expert, along with a large unidentified man, shot in the back. She didn't know what it added up to and just couldn't clear her mind enough to put it together. Lex gets stabbed, his cronies get shot, and he's jetting off to, she was positive, Montreal while seriously injured. Was that of his own volition or was he being coerced? If not, then she had half a mind to carve a message on him herself. Likestop this. Hadn't there been enough blood, even his own?
"You are not gonna believe what I found."
She started, but it was just Jimmy. She slapped her laptop closed quickly. It was early in the morning by now, so she supposed she didn't have to be nervous about being found at Isis rather than home. But why was he here. "Uh, I take it you're over the whole sleep thing," she said, surmising he hadn't been there either.
"The symbols like the one hacked into Lex have been appearing around Smallville for years," he went on, a coffee-induced high obvious in his eyes. "On cave walls, burned into barn doors, even drawn in the fields like crop circles. It's incredible."
Chloe tried to look as dismissive as possible. "No, Jimmy, it's a hoax." She moved away, wondering how she could get him to drop this. "Just like those crop circles in England."
"Well, hey, the jury's still out. Those crop circles could have been made by aliens."
Chloe defnitely wanted him off that subject. "People have been playing with the Kawatche cave paintings for years," she said, injecting a laugh into her voice, "just trying to get on the 6:00 news."
"Wow. Get a little competition in the story department..." She stiffened at his words. He knew she'd been fired, right? He knew that was her dream and it was shattered to pieces, didn't he? "And suddenly you go all Scully on me," he finished.
Chloe calmed down, realized he didn't know everything. He never would, really. So maybe he believed her when she said she was happy to be out of there, anyway. Besides, getting angry was no way to get him to drop this. She forced a smile. "It's not that." She moved to him, going for cheerful disbelief. "It's just I don't think Smallville is destined to be the next Stonehenge."
"Even if it turns out it's a site of ritualistic killings?" He pulled out a stack of photos. "I pulled this from some research on the cave. It's an exact match to the carving on Lex's chest. And it's above a drawing." He held it out to her.
"Yeah, I've seen this before. It just looks like a guy in a doorway to me."
"Well, sure, it looks that way. But according to the number-one website on primitive pictography, it's actually a human sacrifice."
Chloe stared at it again. As much as she still wanted to throw Jimmy off, she had to pay attention to this. Human sacrifice. Under the sanctuary of the saint of travelers, she put together. Human could mean Lex. But that S-shaped symbol on that drawing's chest looked similar to Clark's family's crest. It could mean Clark. Clark wasn't exactly human, but he hadn't called her. He would have called her by now.
"Oh, my god," she whispered.
"So you believe me now," Jimmy said, pulling back the picture. "Look, this could be a huge break for me. Did you want to dust off your researcher's hat for just one..."
"Jimmy, I can't," she said quickly, shoving the picture in his bag, trying to stuff the rest of the stuff. "You know, I have a... meeting..." She grabbed her bag and coat... and her cell. She'd need that. "It's with a... very rich donor who could really help the cause."
"At six in the morning?"
"Well, he's very eccentric," she said, forcing another smile as she shooed him out in front of her. "Plus, it's a bit of a drive. I might be gone all day."
"Well, alright," he said as they moved down the hall to the stairwell. "You'll miss all the fun. But I guess it's not much fun for you, now that you have zero interesting in reporting."
She forced a wider smile as he opened the door for her. "Yup. Zip. Zilch."
She wondered how he couldn't know somehow, if he truly knew her, that that wasn't true. She could tell herself it was just all these secrets she had to keep from him. If he knew them, he'd get it. But how could she lie to him all the time? Why was it so easy for him to swallow it? Because he doesn't know you, she heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like Lex say in her head. She really couldn't wait till this was over. Maybe she could finally keep Lex out of her head for good.
Anyway, her problems with Jimmy didn't matter right now. And there were no problems. None at all. But she turned when they reached the street to catch his kiss on her cheek rather than her lips. "It's just I'm in a hurry." That was all. There were no problems. "See you tonight, huh?"
She hurried down the street, pulling out her cell. Because some of what she told Jimmy was true. She actually did have a really rich, eccentric donor to speak to. It rang and rang, then went to voicemail, and she realized it was four AM in Star City. She shook her head and dialed again. "Come on, pick up..."
Lex or Clark was heading for trouble, and she wasn't okay with either of them being strapped to a table. So that was worth either waking Oliver... or disrupting a still-going party, knowing him.
"Chloe Sullivan!" He sounded awfully chipper... maybe a little drunk. Party it was.
"Hi, Oliver. Listen..."
"You know, I was just wishing a beautiful woman would call me. All I got here is Bart. And he ain't too pretty, even after a few..."
"Hey!" she heard Bart's yell in the background. "I'm plenty pretty. Is that my lady love? Put her on speaker!"
"No, don't," Chloe said quickly. She did not have time for friendly banter with to boys at the moment. "Oliver, this is important. So..."
"So's this. Me and Bart just broke up a human trafficking ring, you know. And you, Miss I gotta concentrate on Clark right now, could be doing shots with us right now. But noooo."
"Totally missing out, my Scrumptious Scribe!" Bart slurred.
"I'm sure I am. But this is serious. I need to know if this job comes with perks, like maybe frequent flyer miles."
"Tell you what, have Bart run you out here, and we can draw up a contract over tequila. It'll be fun."
"I give the bessst piggyback rides," Bart added.
"Clark's in trouble," she said loudly.
"Oh, shit." Oliver cleared his throat. "Hold on. I'll get my gear and..."
"Not tonight, Queen. But I know you keep a jet at the Queen Industries airstrip in midtown. I need you to call them and get me access and a pilot." She took a deep breath, knowing he'd had a few. "Did you get all that?"
"Airstrip. Midtown," he said, sounding a bit clearer. "Pilot for you. I'm all over it."
Twenty minutes to the air-strip. That should be enough time for him to scare up a fly-boy. She let out a long breath as she got into her car. "Good."
"Where you going, anyway?"
"Montreal."
Clark was there. Lex was on his way there. Either one of them could be in danger there. She needed to be there.
PREVIOUS CHAPTER
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
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