Ok, this one took me longer than expected.
Eleven: In which Chloe investigates and Lex fights the futureThursday morning, 9 A.M.. Chloe sat perched on the edge of Clark's desk, developing a crick in her neck while she stared at Clark's computer. She ought to be working out her notes about the conference, but Lois had called her up and here she was, watching Clark sort through the files he'd stolen from Jones' computer.
At least they were sure it was Jones', not Tippitt's—although Jones was a wild guess, too, as Clark was just demonstrating.
"I couldn't open or copy any files," he said, fingers typing busily, sometimes so fast Chloe discreetly nudged his shoulder to make him slow down. "They were all password protected and I hadn't brought anything that could crack them. I did get this, though. His email. He had it open on his computer; it's a yahoo account."
Chloe whistled. If Jones had his online email provider open on screen…it meant that he'd been in the house when Clark had breezed in and copied his files. Good grief, Kent, how did you do that? Was he in the bathroom or something? Or are you so fast these days that he didn't even see you while he went to pour himself a drink?
Clark and Lois, oblivious, stared at the screen, and Clark clicked through a list of email messages. "This is everything I could find, inbox, outbox, saved, sent and deleted messages, sub-folders and everything; he either doesn't use this address very often or he cleans it up every few days." He opened a sub-folder named Forwarded. "Buuuuut…apparently, he forwards things. To himself. Look at this: he has over 20 email addresses. I think this is his memo address, or something; where he sends all his email conversations before saving them to disk so he won't forget about them when he's deleted them from the other mail servers."
"That's pretty smart, Smallville," Lois praised. "I think you might be right about that."
"Gee, thanks, Lois," Clark said sarcastically. He was, however, too excited about his findings to take serious offence. "Now, look here," He opened one of the messages, gave the girls some time to read it, closed it and opened another, and another.
"He signs with a different name each time," Chloe said. Her stomach was doing flips, making her feel queasy. "Can you give us an overview? Wait, let me." She pushed Clark away from the computer, took his place and worked her digital magic. Within a minute a list of items appeared on screen. Jones, or whatever his real name was, had been a busy man; there were sixteen emails, all generated in the past four days. All signed with different names: Jones, Smith, White, Black, Doe, Johnson, etc, etc.
Lois pointed to one of them. "That's my address. He sent this one to me as Jones. Remember Clark, it's the one telling us that Tippitt was moving."
Chloe nodded. "And that one is to me," she said, opening the message. "I got it two days ago. Your contact and mine are the same."
"I didn't know someone was feeding you info about something," Lois said with a funny twitch of her nose. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Chloe avoided looking at her. "I didn't think it was important. It turned out to be false information anyway."
The attachment had been removed when Clark copied the list, but it was still referred to as attachments: Svplantlvl3.pdf, Ozoncorplvl3.pdf, TSClvl3.pdf . She browsed through the other emails. Most receivers were unknown to her, but sometimes she'd recognize a journalist's name, and once a lawyer's name. "What about his Sent items?"
"He only has two," Clark said, pointing as she clicked and opened the folder. "And these are older. He must have forgotten to throw them away. Huh, I hadn't noticed, but these seem to be to the same person, and he's sent them from this address."
Chloe opened the mail. Lois, reading over her shoulder, gah-ed. "Well, that isn't at all revealing." Chloe sighed, agreeing. The first mail was a reply to a previous mail; unfortunately, Smith/Jones had deleted the text of that mail, or had disabled the Show previous message contents option. It provided the following exciting information:
B,
It's case number 11.201. Room 1B. The hearing was moved to Wednesday, 11.30 am. Pres. Judge Harrisson. Didn't they notify you? Can you still make it?
M.
"Who knows," Chloe said optimistically, "Maybe he gives all his personal details in the next one. If B decided to book a holiday to the Bahamas for the both of them, he or she'd need at least a name and a personal number, right?"
Wrong. The second mail was even more cryptic:
B,
That makes 18. Damn him.
M.
"What is this guy, a lawyer?" Lois wondered. "Wednesday, Wednesday…There must be a way we can check which case they were doing on Wednesday…What's the date of that mail?"
"The fourteenth. September."
"On a Wednesday late September, under Presiding Judge Harrisson."
"I'll bet you one thing," Chloe said. She was skimming the emails, skimming the names of the attachments.
"What?"
"It'll be a case against LuthorCorp or any of their sister organizations." She tapped on the computer screen. "This mail? It's to Billy Denver. I know him, he's a lawyer. I used to have lunch with him when he was still in college. Smith—who calls himself Black, here, by the way, sent him a whole bunch of files that all start with LC- and then some number. In his mail he's talking about some illegal practice LuthorCorp's involved with. I can't see what's in the attachments anymore, but it's probably files from some project they're working on. And this person…I don't know her, but he's asking her whether she'd testify in a hearing. I wouldn't be surprised if it was in another State vs. Luthor case."
"Against LuthorCorp, huh?" Lois smiled. "I suddenly like him much better. Look at the number of people he's been mailing! If he's sending classified LuthorCorp information to every one of them…well, he might very well be my hero!"
Chloe said nothing, frowning. If someone's breaking the law, doing something criminal, yeah, then it's good if someone does something about it. But this looks more like an obsession. Who on earth is this 'M', and why's he doing this? And where does he get all that information?
Lois had stolen her mouse and was randomly clicking on emails. "Hey Chlo? If this really is some sort of memo folder for him, he must have added BCCs to himself to his emails. I have to see if there's a BCC somewhere in this list. Do you know how to detect that?"
"No, I'm not that digi-savvy. You'll have to ask Chris from the basement. He's good with email things. Although when it comes to BCCs…Well, he might be able to get something out of it."
"I'll go and extort," Lois said happily. She left with a sashaying gait. Clark followed her with his eyes, one of his eyebrows rising.
"Well, it certainly improves her mood."
Chloe smiled. Lois and Clark's relationship, or rather partnership, amused her to no end. They bickered constantly, either walking off in a huff every other moment. But sometimes Lois would be surprised by something Clark said or did in typical Clark-fashion: come to some incredibly smart conclusion, or say something unexpectedly sharp and funny. It would startle her into laughter and grin at him with camaraderie and affection. Her friendliness, in turn, brutally smashed all Clark's reservations towards Lois and made him behave like he did towards all people who treated him like what he really was, which was a charming goofball with far above average intelligence, whose attraction was much more than just a gorgeous face and a body to die for: sincere sweetness. Clark was such a nice boy, really.
Or Lois would suddenly drop her cynical mask and display her not inconsiderable capacity for compassion when it came to some of the subjects of her articles. She hardly ever cried, but when she had, once, over an eight year old girl who'd just died while she miscarried, both her tears and later her steely determination to see the offender behind bars had given Clark a glimpse of a truly remarkable Lois, and he'd been awestruck by what he'd seen for three days.
Of course, Lois only had to call him Smallville once and he'd lapse back into being exasperated with her, while any random remark of Clark's could make Lois sigh, pat his shoulder in a condescending manner and declare him a lesser life form again.
It was interesting, really, in an incomprehensible way. A bit like a battle between exotic fish. Chloe wondered if they even had a clue that they actually liked one another.
She turned to Clark. "How on earth did you manage to copy all this? He was there when you did, wasn't he?"
He grinned. "In the kitchen. I slipped in while he was on the toilet, sneaked into the kitchen, hid his beer opener and put the stick in his computer. I was afraid I wouldn't get it for a little while, because it took his computer aaages to copy everything to my stick."
Clark unchangingly typed his articles in eight minutes. He needed five minutes to organize his thoughts and structure his sentences, then ten seconds to actually type his stories, and two minutes and fifty seconds until the computer had caught up with his keystrokes and processed his texts. It had never occurred to Chloe that the slow processing rate of computers, compared to Clark's super speed, might also prove a hindrance when it came to copying private information.
"But you managed. Well done!"
"Yeah. I had to blow over some of his books in another room, but then I got it out again. He never noticed a thing." Proud and happy Clark was infinitely huggable.
"And did you see him? I mean, close up?"
Clark nodded.
"What'd he look like? Was he blond? With blue eyes and very light eyelashes?"
"Yes!" Clark exclaimed, surprised. "How did you know?"
"Because I saw Smith face to face. He gave me those files about…he gave me some files in person." She hesitated. "I'm seeing him again on Saturday."
Instantly, Clark's cheerful face turned serious. "Are you sure? It might be dangerous. I mean, meeting a contact is one thing, but this…I haven't ever seen anything like this. It's like a…a crusade." He paused, studied her.
His eyes were on her so long she began to feel itchy. "Do I have a brain tumor, Clark?"
He flushed. "No, sorry. I was just thinking. Those files Smith, or Jones, or M gave you. They were about LuthorCorp as well, weren't they?"
She nodded. "Yes. And they were false. Well, not false exactly, but they didn't prove what he claimed, either."
"And what was that?"
"That Lex was experimenting on those Cancer kids."
Clark looked shocked. "Of course not."
"Wow. That's a very welcome yet uncommonly positive reaction to something Lex-related."
He snorted. "Trust me, I wouldn't put anything past Lex, but experimenting on children? With cancer? I think the cancer fight's holy to him, and he's always kind of careful around children. He wouldn't do anything to hurt them. Now if he somehow hurt Jones—I mean M…that would be a completely different thing. I could believe Lex personally overseeing the total destruction of M's health, family, resources and land, but he'd be a fool to do anything with Cradle Cancer kids, and Lex may be a manipulative asshole but he's no fool."
Chloe smirked. "If I didn't know better I'd say you were in love."
"Oh, please!"
"Is there really not even a single tiny little piece of Clark Kent that is clamoring for one last chance to redeem the evil tyrant?" she asked, half teasingly, half hopefully. "You know, save the puppy even though it's stuck in a box in the middle of a lake of acid?"
Clark sighed. "Chloe…Lex is no puppy. He bites. You know what he's done! Hell, you were there when he set up that little plan of his to determine whether I was really indestructible!" He hushed his voice, frowning, and stared at his hand where they lay curled up on his knees. "I've given him chance after chance, but he's…I don't know. Morally impaired, or something. When he gets obsessed with something, everything else just has to go, nothing matters but him finding out how it works, no matter how. It isn't even that he doesn't know that what he's doing is wrong, it's that he can somehow just switch off his conscience and…He doesn't care!" He shook his head. "Even if I wanted to give it another try, which I don't, I don't think I could save him if I tried. I mean, he's brilliant, right? Then why can't he see that threatening people, and blackmailing them, and experimenting on them is bad, and that if he wants to be my friend, he should stop behaving like a Luthor?"
Chloe sighed. Well, she'd tried. And she got her answer. Clark was just as stuck in his Righteousness as Lex was in his level 3-creating Luthorness. She could kiss that Christmas dinner amongst all her friends goodbye. Then remains the second option: dine with Clark, Lana and Lois, then move to the penthouse and have sex against the window. If expertly organized, that should still be possible.
"Chloe?"
"Yah!"
"Are you really sure about meeting Smith again? Do you want me to tag along?"
She considered. "Nah, I don't think it's necessary. I mean, what could he do to me? We'll be sitting in a restaurant—although they do have VERY deep booths…But no, thanks, Clark. I'll be fine. And maybe it'll give me the chance to find out a little bit more about him. Find out who he is. What drives him. You know."
"Find out what Lex did to him—Lex or Lionel."
"No, it's Lex," Chloe said, remembering Smith's earlier words. "He definitely has it in for Lex." She checked her watch. "Where the hell is Lois? I really have to get back to my report!"
"And I have to get back to my football matches," Clark sighed. "Who could've thought I'd ever not enjoy going to a match?"
"You can always sabotage the ball," Chloe grinned, pointing at her eyes, "if it becomes boring."
"Chloe!" He laughed, but he was scandalized, she could tell. Tamper with the divine game! "I'd never do that!"
"I know." She rose from her seat, squeezed his shoulder. "I know." And that was what it came down to, basically. The big difference between Clark and Lex. Clark'd rather be bored to death than puncture the ball. And Lex totally would. And that made him less than ethical, yes, but it also made for a heck of a lot more fun during the game. "Tell me when you find out anything, will you? Although I guess I should ask Lois when it concerns M or Tippitt."
He nodded sadly. "It's football and openings all the way to Sunday, I'm afraid. I'll probably only come in to hand in my texts. I've been cutting it a little too tight, with appearing here only minutes after my match has ended. I guess I really should start using my car."
"The life of a hero…"
"The life of a reporter," Clark retorted. "Nothing heroic about football matches. Anyway, see you around, Chloe. And be careful."
"Sure!" she said brightly. Clark left. Chloe checked her watch. She really had to get back to her story, or Perry was going to skin her alive and hang his new prime Sullivan pelt in the lobby as an example of what happened to indolent Daily Planet reporters. Lois could take care of the rest of her email. Chloe could always ask her the details later. Decision made, she wrote a short note: Had to go back to work, and walked back down to her own floor.
That morning, Lex did the unimaginable: he slept in. Apparently his body was grateful for the respite, for when he woke up at ten he was again sticky with sweat, but he felt a hell of a lot better. All those annoying little aches and twinges were gone, his head didn't hurt at all anymore, and while he still felt a little weak, the stairs posed no problems, and breakfast actually looked appetizing again, instead of like another mountain to climb.
He fished the thermometer out of a now cold mug of tea, smiling because he knew that someone of the staff must have made a conscious decision to let it stand there. Unfortunately, the wretched thing had survived its hot bath. He shrugged and put it into his mouth while he started up his laptop, humming. When he read his temperature, a few emails later, he was happy to see that the fever was gone—although he was not at all surprised. He still didn't get the use of the thing. If you had a fever, you felt it, you didn't need any measuring device to tell you so. He gave the thermometer another lick. It tasted quite pleasantly of tea.
Feeling lazy, he let his duties lie for a moment, instead indulging in a bit of Jazz at the grand piano. He messed up with the really quick part, but only once, and he convinced himself that it was out of lack of practice, and not because his hands had become clumsier. Mozart went just fine. He couldn't remember the end of the Sonata, but thankfully his improvisation skills were also undamaged, and he flawlessly ended the piece with the final notes of John Lennon's Imagine.
When his mobile went off, he looked at the caller on the display and frowned when it read Decan. What could she be calling for? One of the children? Emmy? He hastily answered it.
"Lex?" A child's voice, not Valerie's.
What the hell? "Who is this?"
"It's…it's Jessica."
"Jessica?" He couldn't quite keep the surprise out of his voice. "How did you get…?"
"I just wanted to know if you were ok," she said quickly. Her usually loud, confident voice now sounded tremulous and uncertain. "I didn't know how to reach you otherwise. But it's ok, I'll hang up…"
"No, wait. Wait, Jessica." He sat down on the loveseat in front of the hearth. "Why did you call me? It's ok, you can talk to me. How did you get Valerie's phone?"
"I kind of…took it…" Jessica murmured. "She left it on her desk when she was called away. She wouldn't call you again, yesterday, saying that you were ill and…I was so scared! I had to call you, I had to know you were ok. Not like…" She trailed off. "But you're ok."
"Yes, I'm fine. I just had the flu. Why were you scared?"
"Because…" she made a small whiny noise. "I can't tell you over the phone. It's that premonition thing—what makes me predict what card you're holding? It's changing. It's in my dreams! I'm getting these…flashes…and sometimes they really scare me!"
Flashes. He really didn't like the sound of this. "Have you spoken about this with Valerie?"
"No." She sniffled.
"Why not? Maybe she can help you."
"She couldn't explain my ability to read cards, why should she be able to explain this?" the girl said with typical child's logic.
"Then why do you want to see me?"
"Because you were in one!" she cried. "Just like Amy! And I didn't know, I didn't realize that it was a flash, I didn't even remember until I had that flash about you!" She took a deep breath. "I just wanted to make sure you were fine, and you are. You're coming to see us on Saturday, right? You'll come, right?"
The kid was almost hysterical. "Yes, I'll be there."
"Ok." Another breath. "Ok."
For some time, she just seemed to be holding the phone, breathing into it. Lex breathed back for a moment. Finally he asked, "Jessica? Are you alright over there?"
And quite unexpectedly, she began to cry.
"Jessica?"
"Michael's gonna die," she sobbed. "I saw him. Just a flash, but…He's gonna die. Today. With the sun on his face. They've moved him, you know, and they won't let me see him…"
The short hairs in Lex's neck all stood to attention; he felt goose bumps rise all over his body. Another Cassandra. One without touch. Jesus Christ, she was another Cassandra!
"Jessica, listen to me. Listen to me, ok. How do you know he'll die today? What if it's…"
"Because it always happens within a few hours," she cried. "It's getting longer; first it was just a few seconds, like with the cards, but these flashes…they're from hours, sometimes a whole day from the moment I get them…And Michael…I had that flash about him…just a few minutes ago."
Lex bit his lip when she started to cry harder, with harsh sobs that crackled in the connection. Unable to reach out and pull her into his arms, Lex wrapped both hands around his cell. Christ, this was awful! Wasn't there anything he could do for that poor girl? Maybe go to her, show himself from behind the glass? But it wasn't about him, he was safe. What she needed was her mother, or her father, or at least someone to hold her and comfort her…
"Jessica. Jessica. It'll be alright."
Abruptly, the sound of her crying grew softer, and Valerie spoke into the telephone, "Who is this?"
"It's me," Lex said. "Lex."
"Lex? Why's Jessica…What's wrong, sweetie?" He assumed that last bit was directed at Jessica, "Why are you crying?"
"She called me," he said. "with your mobile. And she needs help. I think you need to call her parents."
"Right…Can I call you back later? I need to look after her now."
"Yes, by all means. Call me when she's calmed down."
Valerie disconnected, leaving Lex feeling very uneasy. He drew up his legs, rested his mouth against wrists crossed over one knee. Why is it that people with the sight never see me skiing in the Swiss Alps? Why do they only see horrors? Unless, of course, Cassandra did see me skiing and I was so bad at it seeing it fried her brain. The thought was not as comforting as he'd have liked. He hadn't cared much about the old woman in the old people home. He did care about the extraordinary girl in his care. We'll have to change her treatment, this has to be stopped. I won't be responsible for turning her into another Sybil.
It took about half an hour before Valerie called back; he answered her at the first ring.
"Is she alright?"
"She's…better," Valerie allowed. "I've given her a sedative, and her mother's here. She'll be ok now." She sighed. "I didn't have a clue. So much has happened since Amy was taken…I've been so busy with Michael and Tina and Emmy that…But why didn't she talk to me?!"
"What, exactly," Lex said, "is wrong with her? She was talking about having flashes. Prophesizing flashes, like the ones she had when foretelling cards, but farther in the future."
"Yes."
"And?"
"Today's the first time I heard about it."
"And what about Lisa? The girl whose eyesight improved so drastically? Has her ability changed as well? Can she see through walls now, or is she still normal?"
"I…"
"And what about the other children? The treatment seems to mainly bring out special abilities in girls, but what about the boys?"
"I don't know! I…"
"Damn it, Valerie! If you don't know, who does? How is it possible that that girl had to steal your bloody phone to call me because she was scared of something you should have noticed in the first place?! What the hell are you doing there if she's calling me for reassurance?" He was so angry he could hardly keep his voice down.
"I'm sorry! It's just that…"
"I don't care if you're sorry, I want you to do something about it! Talk to them! They trust you. And have them tested. Test Jessica's eyes. I'll come over…" He coughed. "I'll come over on Saturday and talk to…" He had to stop and cough, or he'd choke. So he coughed until he could breathe and speak normally again. "I'll talk to Jessica. But I need to know if there are other side effects to this treatment. And I need you to find out for me. Do you understand?"
"Y-yes." Oh great, now he'd made her cry. "I'm sorry. I really am sorry to let you down. But…"
"It's ok." It wasn't. It wasn't by a long shot, but it wasn't her fault either. "I'm sorry for shouting at you. But I used to know someone in Smallville whose name very aptly was Cassandra, and she got the sight from the meteors too. It gave her the gift of divination but it also made her blind, and in the end, her visions killed her." My vision killed her. "I don't want Jessica to end up like that because we've been neglectful."
"It…the visions killed her?"
"Yes. She was old, by that time, but still. Jessica should not be put through that. Consult the doctors—I believe you'll need to speak to James Marshall. See if she can be switched to the treatment that's based on my blood alone, not on the meteorites. I'm not sure if it's recommendable, looking at the children Amy's blocked, but we may have to take the chance."
"I will."
"And tell me how Michael's doing."
"Michael? Which one?"
"I don't know. Both. The one Amy touched."
"Michael Bouer. He's…not doing so well."
"Jessica told me she had a flash of him dying." Shocked silence. With the sun on his face… Lex had his own flash of inspiration. "Valerie, to which room did you move Michael? Which side of the building?"
"The west side," she said immediately. "Room 23-21b."
Lex checked his watch. It was a far shot, but it was worth trying. "Move him to another room. A room without windows. If that's impossible, find a room with blinds that shut out all natural light."
"Ok. Can…can I ask why?"
"Because Jessica said he'd die with the sun on his face. Now, I don't know if this will work, but if there's no sun, he can't die with the sun on his face, can he now?"
"Right. Hang on, I'll arrange it straight away."
He listened while she spoke to various people, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. His brain, no longer overheated, whirred like the wings of a humming bird. It was a wonderful feeling after two days with the mental capacity of a sea cucumber. If this worked, if a prophesy could be beaten…If Jessica's vision do not necessarily mean to come true if measures can be taken against the possible outcome…His mind reeled. Then I could really change the future.
No. No. He should not think this way. He should focus on curing the poor girl of her terrible affliction. Her gift. Her curse. But we should take her blood and save it for later study…
"Ok, it's done. They'll move him in the next couple of minutes."
"Great." He paused. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." Again he heard the rustling sound of her hair as it brushed against her cell. He wondered what she looked like with her hair down. "And…I'm sorry. You're right, I should have noticed something was wrong with Jess. I want you to know that I am aware of that. It's just…they're all so afraid, you know? I'm not making excuses, but there are over two dozen children and only one me, with all the others still sick."
"I know," Lex said, keeping his voice soft. "I'm sure you're doing the best you can. Listen, Valerie, I have to go now. I'll talk to you on Saturday. No, call me. About Michael. When the sun is down."
"I will. Goodbye, Lex."
"Goodbye."
Michael Bouer did not die that Thursday. Valerie called Lex back at nine, saying that although he was very frail, the boy was still holding on. Lex, reclined on the couch with the thermometer in his mouth, willing his rekindled fever to go down, said a little prayer of thanks to the vague godhood he occasionally believed in, told Valerie she was a fantastic woman, and celebrated his theory proven right with two glasses of brandy.
He typed up business proposals for another two hours and then went to bed. If he were a bit woozy, he was happy to blame it on the brandy.
Friday slid by in a haze of after-flu languidness. Now his mind worked fine again, he got all his work done in the morning, and gave himself the afternoon off to get some exercise. Despite the lingering weakness in his arms and legs, his body was thrumming with the need to work out, as it was used to on Fridays. Unfortunately, running was out of the question, since the wood chip paths around the Castle had been transformed into sludgy, half rotten wood pulp. It was raining, too, and while that would not have stopped him in the past, his current delicate condition (as he called it with a curled lip) made him decide to stay inside and box instead.
That is to say, he went to the basement and slammed his fists against the punching bag for a while, but after ten minutes he was so totally exhausted that he had to cling to the bag to keep upright.
Then he tried doing push-ups, and discovered that he couldn't even do five before his arms just gave out.
Sit-ups then. Nope. He reached thirty through pure power of will, followed by an embarrassingly long period in which he was unable to get up because both his arm and his belly muscles were behaving like chipolata pudding in an earth quake.
Disturbing. Lex Luthor did not enjoy feeling like an overturned turtle.
After two more tries (swimming: he almost drowned after three lengths; practicing katas: he really lacked the patience for katas) he gave up and staggered off to the shower. Flus sucked. There was no other word for it. Despondently, he curled up on the couch with a glass of whiskey, and spent half an hour sulking until Mister Wong called to discuss further negotiations.
Around five, Valerie called for his update (he still got it from Reese by mail, too, but liked Valerie's better.) Michael was still alive, Lisa saw like a hawk but appeared to have no negative side abilities, and Jessica had calmed down significantly now it turned out that her premonition hadn't come true.
At least, she was calm until she had another one, stole Valerie's phone again and called him just as he was observing, with clinical detachment, his fork quiver in fingers that used to be rock steady. The chicken on the other end of the fork was doing a queer little dance in the air, and jumped back to his plate when the phone's ring made him jump.
"Valerie? Is something wro—"
"Are you in a forest?" Jessica shrieked. "If you are, get out of it! Now! Your blood'll be on the trees! Your blood will be on the trees!"
The blood that was not on any trees, inside Lex's body, seemed to curdle in his veins. Then he grasped his wits together. "Would you stop doing that!" Lex snapped. "No, I'm not in a forest, and I have no plans to go into one. However, if you keep doing this, I might die of a heart attack. Good grief, Jessica, control yourself, will you?"
Instinctively, he had used the right tone to snap her out of her hysterics. She panted for a few seconds, then, apparently seeing the humor in the situation, started chuckling.
"Sorry. I thought…I…Heh. Sorry."
Lex sighed, laughed as well. "Jessica…I'll bring you a phone tomorrow, ok? If you promise me not to call me again today, at least not like this. Why on earth would I go trudging through any forest in this weather? Have you looked outside yet? It's horrible."
"I know. I…I just…I was worried."
"And I appreciate that. But think logically here, will you? Until I leave for Metropolis tomorrow morning, I won't take a single step outside, let alone into the woods. And there are no forests in Metropolis, unless you count Central Park, and I wasn't planning to go there either. So you can rest assured that this was just a nightmare. I'll be fine, ok?"
"Yeah," she said. "Ok."
"So do you think you can go back to bed, or to whatever it was you're doing and leave me to my poor, cold chicken?"
"Um…Yeah, sure. Sorry. I didn't meant to, uh, let your chicken get cold."
"I'm sure the chicken will forgive you," Lex said sincerely, making her giggle again. He was glad she hadn't started crying. Nevertheless, before he hung up, he asked, "Jessica? Are you alright? Everything's fine, so are you alright too?"
She hesitated, then made a short, positive noise. "Mm! Uh-oh, I think Valerie's coming back. I have to put her phone back. Till tomorrow, Lex!"
The little thief. Smiling, Lex speared another piece of chicken. But his smile faltered when he noticed that this time, his fingers were shaking so badly he was spraying gravy all around.
Why don't they ever see me skiing!?"Well, Mister Smith. Here we are again."
"Yes." Smith wrapped his hands around his coffee cup. "Here we are."
They were back at the seedy café where they'd met the first time, though were now sitting in another booth. There was a strange bump in the seat of the bench Chloe was sitting on. She wondered what it was. A severed hand, perhaps? Stalled here because what on earth did you do with severed hands when ransom demands had been met? Have them stuffed and placed on the mantle piece?
She wriggled her bottom, but the bump wouldn't go away. It couldn't be a rat, then. Or at least it wasn't a live rat. Ugh. She could move to either side of it, but then she'd force Smith to move as well, and she didn't want to do that. He was watching her with slightly raised eyebrows—probably wonders if I have piles, or something. With an inner sigh, she accepted the bump and began to stir her coffee.
"I had a look at your floor plans. They appeared to be genuine." Unlike your name.
"They are genuine." The blue eyes stared unblinking into her own. "I have brought the originals with me for you to see. These are the first originals, mind you. The ones they used when they were building those places, not the ones that you can look up at any building institution." He unfolded a bunch of large, thin, light blue papers. "Here. This is the original plan of the Science Center. Note the presence of the third level. And here, this is a copy of the published version. See? Level 3 is not there."
"Where did you get those plans?" Chloe asked. Smith only smiled, pretending he'd understood her question as being rhetorical. It hadn't been. "Mister Smith? Where did you get those plans?"
"Does it matter?"
"It does, if I'm to consider them as evidence."
"Miss Sullivan, before revealing the names of my contacts and the origin of my sources, I'd like to be sure that there actually is a case to be made. After all, I was wrong about the LuthorCare case too, wasn't I?"
Eeep…Smith didn't think he'd been wrong. Smith was entirely sure that something was rotten in the state of Luthor, and he was not at all satisfied with her for believing otherwise, evidence be damned. A cold fury directed at her, at anything Luthor, even at his poor coffee chilled the very air in the man's vicinity, Chloe could feel it shivering up her skin like a draft. She repressed a shudder. The man was seriously scary.
"Yes…" she said vaguely. "Yes, I'll investigate. I know about the level 3 in the Smallville plant—Lex Luthor himself owned up to its existence. Apparently he wasn't aware of it; his father had—"
"Lex Luthor is a notorious liar," Smith interrupted her. "Don't you agree, Miss Sullivan?" There was something threatening about the way he said it.
"Mister Smith, I'd appreciate it if you'd stop putting words in my mouth," Chloe snapped back. "Yes, I agree that there are quite a lot of things about the Luthors that don't look at all pretty when exposed to daylight. But I also know that without hard evidence, all your accusations are nothing but gossip. If you want to print empty allegations, I suggest you go and make an appointment with the Inquisitor. Whether Lex Luthor lies or whether he doesn't is of no consequence whatsoever until we can catch him doing it, and prove that what he's saying is a lie." There, the heat of her argument had melted some of his icy façade. Something that was almost approval crinkled the corners of his eyes. He wasn't all that old, she realized. Only about thirty. The hate edged into every feature made him look older than he was.
Smith inclined his head. "Very well. I will await your findings, then. When were you planning to start your investigation?"
When? Good god, she hadn't even thought about that yet. "Well," she said, "Next week it's Christmas, so I doubt the Center will be open. If it is, I might go and have a look on Thursday, but…"
"Miss Sullivan!" Smith all but cried. "Don't you see how important this is? Do you have any idea of the horrors conducted at those hidden levels? The experiments, the tests…"
"If you're so sure about these things," Chloe said, resolved not to be cowed by his fanaticism, "what do you need me for?"
Smith fell silent, bitterness twisting his thin lips. Chloe remembered all those emails he'd sent in the past four days, and thought about the number of mails it had to be in total. If all those mails had been attempts to somehow incriminate LuthorCorp, or Lex personally…and if all those mails had been for nothing since LuthorCorp and Lex both were still very much going strong…She could imagine he'd be angry.
"Mister Smith? Have you ever been in any of the level 3 facilities?"
"No," he said tonelessly.
"Then why are you so certain—"
"I know-I knew someone who's been there. The side effects killed him."
Ouch. Yes, that tended to make people vengeful. "Do you know how I can get into the Science Center level 3?"
He shook his head. "I only have the plans. My guess is that there's some sort of hidden passage, somewhere."
"Why haven't you investigated it yourself?"
"They know my face," he said with a snarl of rage. "I can't get in, anymore. Nor can any of my contacts. It has to be you, Miss Sullivan. And soon, before he gets wind of it and closes it down."
She felt the accusation—like when I gave you the LuthorCare evidence and he somehow found out because you were not fast enough—and bit her teeth together. Smith was getting on her nerves. But she invoked her poise, and her voice was as cool as his when she replied.
"Very well. I will go to the Science Center and hunt for the hidden level. I will however," and now she looked up and fixed him with her own freezing stare, "do it in my own bloody time, and as I see fit. Is that clear, Mister Smith? The existence of Level 3, or level 33.1, or whatever it is or may not be, is something I've been researching for years, and you may believe me if I tell you I am most interested in pursuing your subject. But I will not be badgered into it. Nor will I draw any overhasty conclusions. I'll need proof. Condemning proof. If I find that there is a level three but they can provide evidence that they've been using it to grow dahlias, they officially aren't breaking any laws and I can do nothing. I want you to understand that, because you don't seem to, and I've seen too many world-changing stories flushed down the toilet because I didn't have enough evidence to back it up. I can't promise you anything. I will do my best, though."
"What more could I ask for?" Smith said sourly. A more cheerful disposition? Chloe thought, and hid a smile.
"Nothing, I guess. Tell me, Mister Smith," she asked innocently. "Apart from collecting rare floor plans, what more have you been up to these past days?"
The LuthorCare building was still half-deserted. Either Lex really had been lucky to recover this quickly from his illness, or most other people distanced themselves from their duties with more ease than he ever could.
Of course, their work doesn't make them billionaires, Lex thought with a touch of complacency. Or maybe they simply aren't as driven as I am.
He sighed, and put his hands in his pockets. The elevator took him higher and higher. The last time he'd been in here he'd been facing missing children, outraged parents and police inquiries. Now he was facing the future. Literally. Your blood will be on the trees…what a lovely prospect.
18, 19th floor. He studied himself in the gleaming elevator wall and decided that wearing black had been a mistake. He was too pale; it made him look skinny. He wrapped his coat closer around his body, then let it fall and sneered at himself. Apart from making me vulnerable, sick, giving me shocking red hair and weird dreams, it seems that Amy has turned me into a narcissist as well. He resolutely turned away from his sallow reflection.
Ping. 23rd floor. He got out of the elevator and found Valerie Decan waiting for him in the hallway.
"Lex…!" she said, and then halted, staring at him with her mouth open.
Ah, yes, she hadn't seen him with hair yet. He patiently underwent her studious observation, even turning a little pirouette so she could see it from all sides. "There," he said, when he'd had enough of her gawking. "Satisfied?"
To his surprise she flushed, and her wide mouth curled into the broad smile he'd thought so attractive before she got her cold—as attractive as he thought it was now. "Very satisfied. It looks very good on you." The smile changed into a grin. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone with hair this red before."
"I don't think I ever have," Lex said somberly.
She laughed, touched his arm, leading him toward Jessica and the others. "Don't tell me you don't like it! It's lovely! Very exotic." She sighed dramatically. "Why is it that the people who are born with red hair never want it, and everyone else has to get it from a bottle?"
Lex felt uncharacteristically shy under her praise. "So you like it?" he said incredulously. Mary had said she liked it as well, but…well, she was his employee. And Chloe said she'd liked it as well, but…Chloe was Chloe. Now Valerie as well. Or was she just teasing him? No, he didn't think so.
Huh. Nobody's screaming 'fire truck'. Apparently, when you're an adult, red hair is 'lovely', or' exotic'. Damn. I should have known that when I was six.
"Lex?" He sucked the pleased grin that threatened back inside. "Do you want to see them all together first, or do you want to see Jessica alone? You can talk to her in my office, if you want."
"I'll say hello first, then talk to Jessica." He said. "Your office sounds good, though. I'll take her with me after greeting the kids."
And so he did. After his last visit, he was slightly surprised to find the children playing as happily as they had the first time he'd come to see them; even if they hadn't forgotten about Amy or those few of them that were now in critical condition in separate rooms, their absence enabled them to ignore the bad things and concentrate on their every-day business.
Ronny was as volubly happy to see Lex as usual, and proudly showed him yet another addition to his train set. Now his passengers could not only die in horrible train accidents, but also commit suicide by jumping off a bridge. Lex wondered if the boy's father had any idea how morbid his little son was.
Jack also greeted him with obvious joy—"Wow, Lex, you look just like Gaaraa!"—at least Lex thought so. He had no idea who Gaaraa was.
He chatted for a while with the other children as well, but he couldn't really concentrate; all he could think of were the clear gray eyes of the girl sitting quietly on her bed at the other end of the room. When he got to her, she got up, and said, "Can I talk to you in private, somewhere? I don't want the others to hear. They might get scared, and...I just don't want them to hear."
Lex nodded. After promising he'd come back again, for a longer period of time the next time, he took his leave of the other children and led Jessica to Valerie's office.
"Take a seat."
She immediately climbed on top of the desk, let her legs dangle. She was wearing slippers with eyes on them. Lex thought they might have looked like bunnies, once. He himself turned around Valerie's chair so he could lean his chest against the back and his chin on his arms.
"So, tell me," he began, when Jessica kept swinging her legs, apparently waiting for him to start questioning her, "what precisely are you seeing?"
"Flashes," she said. "Just…flashes. Of all kinds of things. I mean, I didn't even notice at the beginning. It's mainly when I'm sleeping, like a dream, but sometimes it's when I'm awake. But it's always just a snapshot, a flash." She looked up from the eyes on her feet, and suddenly, like a dam breaking, began to gush forth words, so fast Lex could hardly follow her at times.
"Most of the time it's something very normal, you know, like, like Valerie looking into a book. Or David walking by the window. But then I look up, and he isn't there, but ten minutes later he does come by and waves exactly like I knew he would. In the beginning I thought it was just déjà vu or something; my mom thought that it was, but it isn't, really, it's more. Although it isn't anything like you see in the movies, either. It isn't as if I'm seeing people being beheaded or anything, or murders. And I don't ever see things that happen to people I don't know. Everything I see concerns the people I see here, like the doctors, or Valerie, or my friends and my Mom and Dad…Yesterday, I saw my mom opening the fridge and taking out the meatloaf—they had meatloaf the day before, so it wasn't anything strange. And I saw Tina change her doll's clothes. Little things. Like the cards. Just things the people I know do."
One of her legs gave such a hard kick she almost hit Lex in the chin. He caught her foot, and eased it down, patting it reassuringly. She smoothed her pajama bottoms over her knees, fingers picking at the fabric. "Apart from Michael, and you, and Amy…" her face twisted, "they were just very ordinary, insignificant things."
"What did you see about me, then?"
"You were standing. In a forest. A real forest, not a park. And something…hit you, I think." She swallowed. "You fell, and the bark of the tree behind you was covered in blood. That was all."
That's all, really. Just you being killed in a forest. No big deal. Lex made sure his face was totally devoid of emotion. It really wouldn't do to show the girl how spooked he was. "And before that?" he asked gently. "The first time you called me you also saw something."
There was something helpless in the way she looked at him. Her legs began to kick again. "I don't know. It was just a flash. But you looked…really sick. Your head was on a woman's lap—I couldn't see her expression, but she was stroking your face and I think she might've been crying…"
Lex smiled. Ordinary things, not murders. Again he caught her swinging foot and squeezed it. The eyes on her toes were cool against his palm. "She wasn't," he said. "That woman…she's a very good friend of mine. She wasn't crying, she'd just come over to visit. And no, I wasn't feeling very well at the moment, but I definitely wasn't dying. Now, tell me about Amy. What did you see about her?"
Her foot jerked in his hand. He held it fast. "Relax, Jessie. There really is no need to get upset. Besides, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't kick my teeth out. Just relax. Tell me what you saw."
"It's…Gaaah! I thought it was a dream. It made me wake up. It was…I saw her get into the bathroom stall…no, it was later, she was flushing the toilet. And then there was this…hand—but it was terrible, as if it was…disintegrating. It was only partly visible, only you could see it very well…kind of dripping, but not really. And this hand grabbed her. And then I woke up, but I didn't realize that was what made me wake up, you know? It was like a dream, and I hardly ever remember my dreams. But I remember it now, and I know that was what make me wake up. And then I saw Amy get out of bed and go to the bathroom. That was why I asked if she wanted me to go with her. Why else would I ask that? She's eight, she can go to the toilet by herself." She sneered at herself. "If only I had gone with her. I should have gone with her, maybe then she wouldn't have been taken and maybe then Emmy and Michael and the others wouldn't be so sick right now."
"But Michael didn't die. And I'm fine too. And who knows, now that you've told me about Amy, we can find her back." A hand. A disintegrating hand. If that really was a flash, and not a nightmare, what could that have been? A meteor freak after all? Or something else?
She ummed doubtfully, but, like all children, was happy to be relieved of her self-incriminations. Her legs stilled, her fingers stopped picking at her clothes. Lex, no longer afraid she'd kick him, released her foot.
"Do you feel better now? Not scared anymore?"
"No. I mean yes, I'm ok now."
"That's good." He reached into his pocket and brought out a small cell phone. "Now, if you get scared again, you can call me with this. I've programmed my number into it under L."
Her eyes widened, and her mouth formed the hugest grin he'd ever seen on a child's face. "You really did bring me a phone!"
"Well, yes, I promised you I would, didn't I? Here's the adapter." He held it out to her, then pulled it back before she could grab it out of his hand. "This is only for emergencies, though. Like when you get flashes of people…flashes like Michael. I don't want you to call me when you've seen your mom cooking meatloaf."
"Of course not." She stared at the phone with such greed he wondered if it was possible that she never had one. Impossible. Everyone had a phone, surely? When he held it out again she snatched it and cuddled it to her chest like a pet. "Thank you! Thanks a lot! Can I call my mum with this as well?"
Lex shrugged. "You'll have to discuss that with Valerie. Just don't steal her phone anymore when you want to call me. And for heaven's sake don't start screaming about my blood on trees. It's quite unsettling."
She grinned. "I hope your chicken hadn't grown too cold, yesterday."
"Actually, I prefer my chicken to be cold." Actually, he'd left the chicken to be fed to the dumpster; he'd been that upset. Jessica didn't need to know that. She laughed.
"You're so funny." Her eyes got a naughty twinkle. "You're going to have lunch with Valerie, right? I think she really likes you."
Lex felt slightly taken aback. "Exactly what do you see in those flashes?"
"Wellll," she said, stroking her new phone with an unconscious sexual gesture that was wholly obvious to Lex, "They're not always R-rated…"
TBC