Chapter 11
The ride to Gotham City took longer than Clark Kent, Chloe Sullivan and Lana Lang had hoped it would, and they did not arrive until the next night when the sun had just gone down and the dark shadows of night descended on the grim city. They were also dealing with the one-hour time changed that was throwing their perception off. They were tired and wanted to rest, but they knew that they could not waist any more time, so they made their way to where directions said the Wayne manor would be located.
Clark eyed the deserted road suspiciously as they drove down the country lane to the large mansion on the hill. Darkness deeper than the night seemed to cover the ominous structure as they approached. Adding to the impending doom ahead, a storm seemed to sweep in from nowhere, and by the time they reached the giant iron rod gate, a downpour began to drench the area.
Lana Lang lowered her window and pushed the intercom button on the short podium near the entrance.
"This place would give the Luthors the creeps," Chloe commented peering through the windshield at the shadowy building on the horizon. "Lex's mansion looks like Cinderella's castle compared to this haunted house."
"I usually don't agree with your exaggerations, Chloe," Clark said struggling to see the house. "But I would have to say you are right on the mark with this call."
"I don't think anyone is home guys," Lana turned to them. "I rang the buzzer three times and still no answer."
Clark eyed the contraption for a moment.
"Don't these places have a ton of servants?" Chloe remarked.
"Maybe the buzzer is faulty or something," Lana added.
"No it's fine," Clark spoke with squinted brows still focus on the box.
"And you know because you can see the inner workings of the buzzer?" Chloe asked with heavy sarcasm.
Her words got his attention and he jolted his stare away from his use of his x-ray vision. "No, of course not," his voice broke for a second. "I saw the little red light flash under Lana's hand when she pressed the button."
Lana pulled her hand away from her fifth try with a sigh. "Looks like there is no one home, guys. We came this whole way tonight for nothing."
"Well what do we do?" Chloe questioned. "We spent a large portion of Perry mad money on gas and food on the way here. I don't know if we have enough for rooms at a hotel."
"You didn't tell us that," Lana shot her a disgusted look. "Where were you planning on us spending the night? We can't use our parent's plastic or have someone wire us more money."
"I was hoping to pull a Blanche Dubois and depend on the kindest of strangers," Chloe told her.
"In that place?" Lana pointed at the mansion.
"I need to get up to the house," Clark told them.
"How?" Chloe asked looking back at him.
A grin came across Clark's face. "Like I always did at Lex's place. I'll squeeze through the gate."
"That's illegal, Clark," Chloe sighed.
"We have to get in there tonight," Clark reminded her. "We don't have a choice."
"But Clark," she started.
"Let is go, Chloe," Lana said in a harsh tone. "We have no food, money or place to stay, and I have not showered in about thirty six hours. Let the man squeeze though the gate."
"Wow," Chloe stared at her for a moment. "Cheerleader burn out, it's not a pretty sight."
Clark slid across the seat and turned up the collar on his lightweight summer coat. "I'll be right back."
Clark stepped out into the hot summer air. He had hoped the rain would have cooled the night off, but instead, it had only acted in creating a sauna like effect with the rain radiating the heat off the scorched pavement. He walked a few feet away from the car into the darkness of the night out of sight from Lana and Chloe's view. He had been able to slide his slim form through the bars of the Luthor mansion, but he could tell these iron rods were less spaced and would provide a slightly bigger challenge. He found a few bars that he thought would be harder to notice from the road behind a large bush. Clark grabbed a strong hold on each side and pulled the two steel objects in opposite directions until he made an opening that he was sure would accommodate his figure.
Sliding onto the Wayne Manor property, it struck Clark strange that there would not be better security on these stately grounds. Would not a man who witnesses the deaths of his own parents be more inclined to higher precautionary measures? He shrugged off the notion and made a slinking type run across the lawn to a large water fountain in the center of the field. His purpose was not to break in enter, but he felt he needed to keep his presence unknown until he could get a better idea of what he was in for.
Easing his way around the fountain, Clark thought he saw the slight glow moving across the large bay window inside the building. The structure was three stories high with several annex-attaching additions that could have been built at different times. It was partly mortar and partly bricks with two or three small balconies outside of some double doors on the upper floors. The house was well over a hundred years old and reeked of old English money. It seemed that gargoyles and art-sculptured statues were all over the manor as well as the grounds. The topper was a large tower like round structure at the left corner of the building with an extremely high point. Clark remembered watching a show on the discovery channel that had explained that in the early days of nautical history in this country, homes were often built with the tall watch towers for people to watch over the waters in the horizon for love ones returning from sea or for river merchants. This house seemed to be miles from any waterways with the exception of a small stream that ran behind the manor that he noticed from the road when they were up the hill. So he determined that this tower was built for its second desired purpose of architectural enhancements.
Clark had made his way to the far corner of the fountain where he had decided to make is run for a closer view of the moving light. When he went to stand up, suddenly with out warning, he felt as if something had clipped his left leg and Clark fell backwards onto the wet grass with a soggy thud.
The fall momentarily knocked the wind from his lungs, but Clark quickly gathered his senses and determined that he was no longer alone, but he could not see his assailant. He braced himself on the edge of the fountain and pulled himself up to his feet.
"My name is Clark Kent from Smallville Kansas," he spoke with a groan as he stood. "I didn't mean any harm by coming here, I'm looking for Bruce Wayne."
Clark was leaning on the stone edge when he felt another jolt hit him on the back, and he decided to go with the blow instead of tensing up and possibly hurting his assailant with his strong form. He fell forward into the water and hit his shoulder against the centerpiece of a slightly dressed woman pouring a constant flow of liquid from the jug in her arms. His blow managed to shift the stone carving a few inches.
With great humility, Clark pulled himself up and turned to face the night's blackness. Between the dark and the heavy rain, it was nearly impossible to get a proper view of his surroundings, much less of his combatant.
"Look, I don't want to fight," Clark shook his head splashing water. "I just need to see Mr. Wayne, it's important."
From the corner of his eye, Clark got the slight glint of a boot heal in the darkness aimed at his face. He tried to go limp, but naturally tensed up slightly when the boot impacted his cheekbone. He threw himself in the direction of the blow and rolled with the great force that knocked him off the fountain and back onto the wet grass. This time Clark could swear he heard the distinct sound of a person in pain just as the blow hit.
Deciding to keep the passive stance, Clark lay motionless on the lawn and waited to see if there was going to be another attack. He briefly attempted an x-ray scan hoping to see his unwanted opponent inner structure if not his actual form, but the assailant seemed to have left the area.
Still Clark remained dormant knowing that a blow such as he was given would have knocked out a normal man. It was ten seconds before he noticed the approaching light to the spot where he laid.
Clark looked up into the face of a middle-aged man holding a battery operated camp lantern over him. The man peered through the cover of a lightweight raincoat down at him. He took one glanced and announced in a very British gentlemen's tone. "Oh dear, what have we here?"
Clark had been gone for several minutes when Lana and Chloe who remained in the car began to worry and speak among themselves.
"Did you see where he went?' Lana asked Chloe squinting her eyes in an attempt to see into the darken field before them.
"No," Chloe responded trying the same maneuver. "I didn't even see him slip through the bars. He walked behind the bushes and disappeared."
Lana turned to her with a worried brow. "It's been a long time, do you think we should get out and look for him?"
Chloe did a full circle to see out of all sides vehicle. "I don't know. Between the rain and the dark, we could walk right pass him and not know it."
Lana took a deep breath. "Well," she exhaled. "It's been a long time and we should do something."
The faint squeaking sound of metal being moved across cement was then heard. They jumped and stared at each other for a moment.
"What, what was that?" Chloe asked in a stammering voice.
"I don't know," Lana replied in kind.
Chloe leaned forward slightly and peaked out the windshield. "The gate," she announced. "It's being opened automatically. Someone is letting us in."
"Or coming out to get us," Lana added with stammering lips.
They stared at each other for a moment and waited for the other to say what the next move should be. After a short wait, Chloe nodded her head, and Lana took that as an indication and the car moved forward.
The ride to the front door was about a third of a mile away from where they started. Chloe followed the path carefully until the front stoop light could be seen clearly. They both admired the lavish luxury of the gigantic building.
Stopping at the front door, they noticed as a shadowy figure opened it and revealed the lit foyer beyond.
Each taking a deep breath and a gulp of air opened their doors in turn and made a mad dash towards the open door. Slipping into the hall, they uncovered their heads and began to take in the view of the grand foyer.
"Good evening miss Sullivan and Lang," the slim gentleman with the black suit and vest with polished shoes and a thin mustache under his slightly balding head of hair. "Do come in and make yourself at home," he spoke with a British accent.
"Thank you," Chloe eyed him with a suspicious look. "Do we know you?"
"No, of course not," he laughed. "I am Mr. Wayne's man servant, Alfred Pennyworth."
"Yes, of course," Lana smiled holding out her hand. "I'm Lana, Lana Lang."
Alfred shook her hand and slightly bowed. "So very nice to meet your acquaintance Miss Lang."
"Lana," she suggested.
"Miss Lana," he returned.
"No, just Lana," she blushed.
"Miss Lana should do nicely." He interjected.
Lana shrugged her shoulder.
"Since you know our names," Chloe concluded. "Does that mean you have met Clark?"
"Yes," Alfred said closing the door behind them. "Young mister Kent is in the lavatory changing into some dryer cloths. I am afraid his previous attire was quite soaked in the rain fall."
Alfred began to walk down the hall. "If you will fallow me to the sitting room, mister Kent and master Wayne should be with you shortly."
The girls shrugged and fallowed their host down the long corridor.
Chloe stopped at the bottom of the large staircase in the grand hall to admire a huge grandfather clock against the far wall. She hesitated only a moment, and then returned to her walk.
The sitting room reminded them allot of Lex's study with it's large fireplace which was brightly lit ablaze that night, and it's large expensively attired sofas seats and furnishings. Everything there seemed to be soft or shinny. The room was awash with various tones of gray and gold, and what little light there was, even from the fire, seemed dimmed.
"I shall retrieve some refreshment," Alfred said as he exited the room through a smaller door than the French ones they had entered, off to the left side of the room.
Lana took a moment to admire the room. "This place is so big and beautiful," she said running her hand across the stone mantle.
"I don't know," Chloe replied with a tilted head taking a look. "This place is just a little too gothic for me. I mean it makes the gloom and doom of Lex's place look like Chunky Cheese."
"If you haven't noticed while we were driving through," Lana turned to her. "The whole town is a little gothic, hence the Gotham."
"Did you see some of those buildings down town," Chloe chuckled. "I swear the architects must have been high when they designed this town."
"Nell and I drove through Gotham once before on our way to a horse show," Lana told her. "And I swear it was raining then too."
Their conversation was interrupted when the side door where Alfred had exited was opened and Clark entered. He was wearing a slate gray silk button down shirt he kept un-tucked from his black wool blend knitted slacks. The cut was very flattering and made for a loose relaxing fit. He blushed when he saw the girls and looked down at his milk white gym socks.
"Well this is a new look," Chloe commented as she approached.
"I kinda like it," Lana joined in. "Brings out the real…" she peaked at how the material rested on his chest, "man in you."
"Okay girls," Clark blushed again. "I know it's a little GQ," he pulled at the top with his hand. "But it's what Alfred gave me to wear. My own cloths were soaked through. The only thing he didn't have were shoes in my size."
"We heard about your cloths," Chloe smiled. "How does it feel to look rich and famous?"
"I don't know," he shook his pants at the hems. "Lex could always pull off wearing these fancy designers, but I feel more at home in blue jeans and a tee shirt."
"Apparently our host would like us to be comfortable," Lana said walking over to where Chloe and Clark stood by the lit fireplace. "It's not everyone who would give a change of cloths to an uninvited guest."
"Have you met him, Clark?" Chloe asked.
"No, but I had a run in with the security guard, I think," Clark replied with a questionable look on his face. "I never actually saw his face, but someone dropped kicked me in the yard and then disappeared. That's how my cloths got soaked."
"I haven't seen any security around here," Chloe said eying the pictures on the mantle. "You would think a place like this would have an army to protect it being so close to Gotham."
"What's wrong with Gotham?" Lana asked her.
Chloe turned her attention to her friends again. "Gotham has the highest crime rate per capita than any other US city. Apparently our host was only one of its victims when his parents were slain. Gotham also has a high unemployment rate and a gaggle of wasted resources. It use to be one of the countries highest industrial towns, and then the early effects of NAFTA began to effect it and everything nearly shut down during the Clinton years. The city's location, near all of the major transportation lines and its need for jobs, has made it a haven for drug importers and other illegal cargo along the docking lines. Gotham has been dubbed the 'American Beltway To Crime'."
"Why would anyone want to live in such a sad place?" Lana questioned.
"When you don't have the resources to leave," Clark put in. "You learn to make do with what you have."
"I guess that means even turning to a life of crime," Chloe said bending before the roaring fire and warmed her hands.
The conversation was again interrupted by the open of the two double doors to the right of where they had come in. The three of them turned and Chloe stood up to see a young man with black hair and blue eyes enter the room from his private study, which he kept dimly lit. He was a strikingly handsome man in his very early twenties He stood nearly the same height as Clark, and had a similar body build that was muscular and well toned. To those who would not take notice of the very different facial features, the two men could pass off as brothers but he had a fuller adult look. The new man appeared healthy but pail. A trait that Chloe determined must run in the wealthy set since Lex was pail also, but this man did have a little more color.
He nodded at them and gave a half smile. "Hello, I'm Bruce Wayne."
A glint came to Chloe's eye. 'Yes you are,' she thought smugly.
"Mr. Wayne," Clark held out his hand. "My name is Clark Kent and these are my friends Chloe Sullivan and Lana Lang," he pointed to each respectively.
"Welcome to my home," he shook each of their hands.
Clark could not help but notice that Bruce was walking with a slight limp as if he had recently hurt his leg. He wondered if his encounter with the man in the front yard had actually been a tussle with the lord of the manor himself.
"Alfred informs me that you came here looking for me," Bruce sat on the first sofa and gestured for them to be seated on the opposite one. "What could I possibly do for you?"
Clark sat between the two girls who let him do the talking. "We are actually following a hunch that may lead to solving a murder."
"Murder?" Bruce repeated. "Is that a new high school pass time to solve murders?"
"The victim was a very close friend," Clark explained. "Perhaps you have heard of Lex Luthor from Luthor Corps?"
Bruce nodded his head. "Lex and I have crossed social paths in the pass. I read that he was in a serious car accident in the news paper a while back, but the article gave no indication that it was murder."
"That's because we believe it is being covered up," Clark said with a frustrated sigh.
Bruce gave no indication of his emotions and gave another slight nod as his only indication of receiving the message.
"There seems to be this whole cover story about his being drunk when he left my house a few minutes before the crash, and I know for a fact that he did not have anything to drink. We also found out a few days ago that his car had been tampered with."
"How so?" Bruce's monotone voice asked.
Clark turned to each of the girls first wondering how much of his own hand he should show this early in the game. He took a deep breath and then answered. "Perhaps, much in the way that your car was tampered with, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce cocked and eyebrow. It was his first indication of any real interest. "I have never reported any accidents."
"Not with the police," Chloe jumped in pulling a sheet of paper from her bag. "But you did file a report with your insurance company and then covered the damage out of your own pocket."
"Yes I did," Bruce took the page with the insurance report from her. "I am a firm believer that a automobile should come with a complete history of any accidents should I decide to ever sell the car. So I filed the report to allow it to be recorded into the database."
"Do you mind if we ask you what happen with your car?" Lana asked with a polite smile. "Was the accident suspicious in any way?"
Bruce gave her his first real smile of the night. He could not help be infatuated by her beauty; but then the serious look returned. "I must say that three teenagers from Kansas showing up in the middle of the night with questions of my driving records is very suspicious to me, Miss Lang."
"This is not some type of scam, if that's what you are thinking, Mr. Wayne," Clark assured him. "My best friend was murdered by having his break lines cut, and his own father may be covering it up. We are just trying to make a connection here in hopes of solving this case."
Alfred walked back into the room holding a tray of refreshments he placed on the coffee table between the two couches. He pulled another piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Bruce.
Chloe spoke as he read the form. "Mr. Wayne, have you ever heard of the 'Liberation Organization Of Third Third_World Religions'? We believe that they may be responsible for Lex's accident and perhaps your own."
Bruce gave her a suspicious look.
"Did these people approach you for a donation shortly before your wreck?" She continued to pursue the issue.
"Where have you heard of these people, Miss Sullivan?" Bruce asked.
"I recalled a few years back when they promised to terrorize American interest if we did not leave some of the more militant Muslim countries to their own devices, and they claimed they would use money from our most wealthy citizens to finance these attacks. Then when I heard about one of the fathers of a dead teenager who died in a suspicious accident himself a while back say that he was approached by a militant group fitting this description for money shortly before the crash, well I put two and two together and came up with blackmail."
Bruce cocked his eyebrow again. "You seem very confident in your research miss Sullivan. Do you have anything to back up your theory?"
"No," she lowered her head. "Right now we are just following a hunch, but I think you may hold a prime key to this puzzle, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce took his coffee cup stood up and slowly walked over to the fireplace. He seemed to be deep in thought as they watched him glance at the sheet of paper Alfred had given him moments earlier.
Alfred busied himself preparing each of them a beverage of choice. Only Clark declined. He too rose to his feet and walked over towards Bruce.
"Please Mr. Wayne," he pleaded with large eyes. "You may be our only hope of ever finding out what truly happen to Lex."
Bruce took a sip and looked at Clark. "Tell me, Mr. Kent, how do you intend to protect these two young ladies if you do discover a murderer as you claim."
A puzzled look came to Clark's face. "I haven't really thought that far ahead. But I assure you that no harm will come to any of my friends."
"I would say that harm has already come to your friends and family as well," Bruce said with a stern scowl. He held up the page in his hand and continued. "It seems your parents have been arrested for the wrongful death of Alexander Luthor and you three are wanted for questioning by the Smallville and Metropolis police departments."
"You researched us?" Clark took the page.
"I am a very wealthy man, Mr. Kent. And as you pointed out, I may have enemies I am not aware of," He told him. "So when I invite someone into my home, I make it a point to know as much as humanly possible about them."
Clark hung his head again. "So you don't believe our murder theory?"
"I did not say that," Bruce returned sipping his coffee. "I do however have a few questions."
"Like what?" Chloe asked from the sofa.
Bruce turned his attention towards her. "I would like to know why you think Lionel Luthor would be covering the murder of his son? The Luthors have never struck me as the type of men who would back down from threats."
"Maybe he's hiding it for the same reason you hid your accident," Chloe stood up. "I would assume that being a victim to these types of terrorist would be as bad, if not worst, than backing down."
Bruce remained silent and seemed to be studying her for a few minutes. He sipped on his mug and his brow became creased in thought.
"Please, Mr. Wayne," Clark finally broke the silence. "All we want is to solve a murder and bring the culprits to justice. I'm sure you want the same thing for the people who may have attacked you."
Bruce placed his empty cup on the mantel of the fireplace and turned to Clark. "You must be completely honest with me and share all your information."
"Of course," Clark had to control a smile of relief. "But all we have is speculation right now."
"And pictures," Chloe added in. "We can't prove that it's Lex's car, but we have pictures of the cut brake lines." She pulled out the camera from her shoulder bag and brought up the pictures on the view screen.
Bruce took the camera from her and looked at the snap shots.
"These people, who ever they are, were very brazing and made no efforts to hide their crime," Clark said from over his shoulder.
"Why would they," Bruce sighed. "They knew that Lionel would hide it for them. You were right about the wealthy not wanting to appear as victims. The only question is why would Lionel deliberately interfere in a federal matter?"
"I don't follow," Chloe spoke up.
Bruce handed her back the camera. "The FBI also got wind of my accident and were able to piece a crime together, only they have no real leads to finding the culprits. It seems they are very clear on the group behind it, but have yet been able to uncover the people who control the group. If they approached me, then I am sure that they approached Lionel as well."
"Then are you admitting you were attacked?" Clark reasoned.
Bruce seemed to stop before he was about to say anymore. He walked between the two sofas back towards the doors to his private study. "It's late Mr. Kent," he spoke as he walked. "There is much I much review about what you have told me. I first need to decide if you are indeed telling me the truth."
"We are," Clark insisted as Bruce got to the doors.
Bruce Wayne turned to them. "Since you are on the run from the law, I will assume that you would like to lay low. You are all welcome to spend the night in my guest rooms. Alfred will show you the way, and you can leave in the morning."
Chloe and Lana gave Clark a hopeless look as Bruce disappeared into his room. "What just happened?" Chloe asked. "I thought we were getting through to him."
"You must forgive the young master," Alfred said from the corner he had stationed himself during the conversation. "Master Bruce does not trust easily, and perhaps all the talk of murder only brought up hurtful memories."
"We're sorry," Clark said. "We didn't mean any harm."
"Of course not," Alfred smiled slightly. "Now allow me to show you to your quarters for the night, and perhaps the master shall be more talkative in the morning."
The dark room was as black at night as it had been in the afternoon before. The shadow moved across the room and injected the needle into the small tube as it had done three times a day for the last several weeks. This time the occupants made no sound or gave any indication of consciousness.
After the task was finished, the shadow moved back towards the door and exited as every other time before. The darkness engulfed the room again, but the faint rustling of cloth against cloth could be heard. Then a soft grunt as one swift motion was made and the hint of tape being removed from flesh was heard.
The sound of a limb slumping back onto the bed was heard with a heavy sigh. The frail voice mumbled. "Where are you, Clark?"
More rustling was heard and then complete silence over the slight breathing of a sleeping soul.
TO BE CONTINUED
***NOTES***
Okay, thanks again for all the kind words. I am so happy that you all seem to be in this for the long haul. It helps to keep me motivated. I only hope the outcome is worthy of all your support and kind words.
To Suz: Welcome aboard. Half the fun of writing a mystery is to know when to leave them hanging, so please stay with this story, and the answers and more clues as well as a few twist and turns are on the way.
To MitchPell: Thanks for still reading. I want so much to answer your questions, but we all know that the answers would only spoil the fun, so please keep reading. This might also be a slow chapter as I am trying to set up the new players, so please bear with me.
To Merrie: Thanks again. If it helps, I try to post every Monday morning. I'm actually a few chapters ahead, but I need to let poor Christin have a life in between her bata reading for me, but once I have my final chapters done and she has finished proofing, I'll try getting them posted closer together.
To Teri: Thanks. I have a hard time seeing Lex as a bad guy sometimes, because as I was going over the facts for the last chapter and reviewing past episodes, he is really allot nicer at times than some of the other people are to Clark. Even his so called closes friends.
To Jellybeany: Welcome aboard and I hope you are enjoying the story so far.
ToTimberLover360: How could I not be touched by a plea like that. I plan on seeing this story to the end. So please stay with it.
Thanks to all who have been reading, and please continue with the reviews. Mondays are not so bad when you have a good review. =)
Phaze