Clark paused before the glassed-in entryway of the Summerholt
Institute and took a deep breath. Unpleasant memories of the last time
he'd been here flooded his mind, and he quickly pushed them aside.
The Institute occupied a contemporary glass and steel building not far from the heart of downtown Metropolis. Lex had told him once that rent on buildings in this part of town was easily in the millions of dollars per month: as he stepped into the tastefully decorated lobby Clark wondered again where Garner was getting all of his money. How much money could there be in esoteric brain research, anyway? The Institute didn't produce or patent anything, and it didn't treat patients.
Except for Ryan.
Clark took a deep breath and approached the reception desk. Fortunately the woman on duty was a different one that he'd confronted months before, or he probably would have been thrown out on his ear. Even so she eyed his plaid shirt and blue jeans with scarcely disguised contempt.
"May I help you?"
"Uh, yes. I'd like to speak to Dr. Garner, please."
The receptionists eyed him as if he was a slightly lower form of life. Clark figured it was a good thing he's parked his truck on the next block: at least she wouldn't see the dented Ford.
"Do you have an appointment?"
"No, but I'm sure he'll want to see me when he knows I'm here," Clark lied. "Please tell him Clark Kent is here."
"Young man, Dr. Garner is very busy. I'm sure if you call and schedule an appointment."
"No, I need to see him today," Clark interrupted. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude but please let him know I'm here. It's very important. Please."
Clark did his best to look unthreatening and hopeful, and after a moment the receptionist shrugged and picked up the phone.
He breathed a sigh of relief as she dialed. The building looked like any other modern office building, but he knew from personal experience it was built like a fortress. He didn't know if he'd be able to break in again without getting caught.
The receptionist exchanged a few terse words with whoever was one the other end, and then gestured for the security guard.
Clark steeled himself for another argument, but to his surprise the woman pressed a button concealed under her desk and the double doors behind her swung open.
"Dr. Garner says he can spare you a few minutes, Mr. Kent. Joel will take you back."
Clark nodded. "Thank you."
He followed the security guard through the doors and into a wide hallway: there were no windows back here, just a series of closed doors. A few people dressed in lab coats passed them, but otherwise the interior was cool and quiet and still, with the antiseptic smell of a hospital.
Clark tried hard to get his nerves under control. He tried not to think about Ryan, and he tried not to think about what his parents would do to him if they knew he was in Metropolis and not in the Torch offices helping put the next issue to bed.
The security guard paused before a door and knocked.
"Come in," Garner's voice said.
As he stepped into the room Clark was surprised to see that the austerity of the rest of the Institute didn't reach into Garner's office. There was a plush red carpet on the floor and heavy red drapes outlining the large windows. A heavy walnut desk and matching chairs occupied the center of the room while bookcases lined the other walls. To Clark it looked more like the office of a banker than that of a scientist.
"Mr. Kent, how extraordinary you should come to see me again." Garner stood, but didn't offer to shake hands with Clark. "You can go now, Joel- I'll buzz if I need you." He waved away the security guard.
When the two men were alone in the room Garner's eyes narrowed.
"This makes twice in two weeks we've met, Clark. Is there something I can do for you?"
"So you did see me at the lecture. I wasn't sure, since you didn't respond to my question," Clark said sharply.
Garner laughed. "I never respond when people make scenes, Clark, it only encourages them. And I hope you haven't come all this way just to make more wild accusations, because I am a very busy man."
"No, actually I came because I wanted to ask if Ryan James had any family that you knew about other than his aunt."
Garner said back down behind his desk. "No, not that I'm aware of. Do you have some personal effects of his you want to dispose of?"
Clark tried not to let on that his skin was crawling at the doctor's nonchalant attitude towards Ryan.
"No, but I saw you arguing with a woman at the FutureTech lecture and thought she might be a relative."
Garner raised his eyebrows, but unlike Lex, the man was a lousy liar.
"What woman?"
It was Clark's turn to smile.
"I believe her name in Jenna Iverson. She looked really upset."
Garner folded his hands under his chin.
"Oh, of course, Ms. Iverson. The poor young woman was quite angry: accused me of treating some friend of hers who I gather has been institutionalized. Absurd, of course."
"So that was the first time you'd ever met her?"
The doctor looked hesitant for a moment. "Yes."
"That's strange, doctor, because according to the Metropolis Police you've had a restraining order against her for the last month."
Garner's eyes were mere slits now. "That was the first time we'd met in person. Ms. Iverson has been harassing my staff, making scenes in the lobby. I felt a restraining order was in the Institute' best interests. Are you accusing me of something?"
Clark leaned forward a bit.
"The friend she spoke of, it wasn't Ryan James?"
"No. Now, Clark, I think I've said all I care to. I've tried to be accommodating but if you have anything else to say to me I think you should talk to my lawyers."
Garner must have had a concealed button on his desk as well, because the door opened and the security guard reappeared.
"Sure, I'll leave. But I just want you to know that if you've hurt anyone else the way you hurt Ryan I'll find out about it, and I'll make sure you don't get away with it."
Garner smiled his cold smile.
"Threatening me, Mr. Kent?" He eyed the security guard. "You heard that, didn't you, Joel?"
"I did, Dr. Garner."
Garner stood. "Please escort Mr. Kent off the property and make sure that he doesn't return." He eyed Clark again. "And that includes any midnight visits. If you come here again I'll have you in jail so fast it will make your head spin."
Clark tried to look disingenuous. "I don't know what you mean. But you haven't seen the last of me, Dr. Garner."
Clark allowed himself to be hustled out of the room by the security guard. Back on the sidewalk outside he sighed.
Garner had unwittingly told him a few things he'd wanted to know. For one thing, whatever grudge Jenna Iverson held against Garner really did have to do with his work. The doctor had let it slip that Iverson had accused him of mistreating another patient. Where was that patient now? Why hadn't Iverson gone to the police?
Clark glanced at his watch. It was only 4:30; he figured he could spend a few more hours in Metropolis before he'd have to leave for home. He just hoped than in the meantime his parents' didn't decide to call Chloe and check up on him. Chloe would cover for him, of course, but she'd be furious that he'd gone to Metropolis without her. And Clark would almost rather face two angry parents than another fight with Chloe.
Almost. *****************************************
Darkness had fallen over the city by the time Clark reached his next objective. After leaving the Summerholt Institute he'd gone over the Metropolis University in search of Jenna Iverson. The registrar had refused to give him any information, and the secretary at the Philosophy Department had been just as reticent, although nicer about it.
"I'm sorry, but we don't give out any information about our students without their permission," the plump woman had told him. "If it's about a class I suggest you talk to the undergraduate advisor."
Under other circumstances Clark would have been pleased to be mistaken for a college student, but it didn't seem to be getting him the information he needed. He wished he thought faster on his feet: Chloe or Pete could have made up an effective lie in a few seconds, while all he could do was stand there like an idiot.
"Uh, it is about a class, well, kind of. I did need to talk to her about it, though, not the, uh, advisor."
The department secretary must have been used to having babbling kids in her office, because she had smiled.
"Well, I think the graduate council meeting should be letting out just about now-if you hurry you might be able to catch her there. Otherwise you can leave a message for her and I'll see she gets it."
"No, I'll hurry."
"The council meets in the Luthor Business Building, second floor lounge."
Clark had smiled. "Thanks."
He had waited patiently outside the business building-as ugly and intimidating as Lex had promised-and watched until a group of people left. In their midst was a tall, auburn-haired woman in jeans and a black sweater.
Jenna Iverson.
Unsure what he wanted to say, Clark had trailed the group through the main quadrangle and across the street to a coffee shop just of campus.
Now, standing outside, Clark tried to rehearse what he wanted to say to Iverson, but the questions kept getting all tangled up in his mind. He watched through the window as the group drank coffee and talked: glancing at his watch he could see there was no way he'd make it home in time for dinner.
Finally the other people started to leave, but Iverson pulled out a book and propped it up against the napkin holder to read.
Clark seized his opportunity. He went into the coffee shop, which in spite of the university clientele was anything but young and hip. Scuffed linoleum floors ran up to a long counter with old-fashioned swiveling stools, and half a dozen red vinyl booths lined the side by the windows. He approached the last booth and, when Iverson didn't look up, cleared his throat.
"Hi. Can I sit here?"
She looked at him with a stern expression in her dark brown eyes.
"There are plenty of other booths."
"I know, but I kinda wanted to talk to you."
The woman shrugged.
"Suit yourself." As Clark sat down opposite her she studied him for a moment. "You're not one of my students, are you?"
"Uh, no, I'm still in high school."
"Ok. Want some coffee?" Iverson waved at the waitress, and the sturdily built woman in a faded pink uniform unceremoniously thunked down a mug of black brew in front of Clark. He eyes it suspiciously, but didn't think this was the kind of place where he could order a cappuccino.
Iverson watched until the waitresses had retreated back behind the counter, and then turned her attention back to Clark.
"I suppose you think you're very clever, following me across campus like that. What do you want?"
Clark took a sip of the coffee and almost choked. It was dreadful stuff.
"I didn't think you saw me."
"Of course I saw you, skulking around-you're lucky no one called the campus police."
"I wasn't skulking." Clark dumped several spoonfuls of powdered creamer into his cup, hoping it would make the coffee more drinkable. It didn't. "I was just waiting for a good opportunity to speak to you. About Dr. Garner."
She closed her copy of John Stuart Mill and shoved it aside.
"What about him?"
"I saw you arguing with him at the Future Tech lecture. You said to him that he wouldn't get away with something."
Iverson's eyes widened. "How do you know what I said to him?"
Clark blushed and stirred his coffee again. "It doesn't matter. You were there, right?"
He could tell she was trying hard to look nonchalant.
"If you saw me I must have been there," she shrugged.
"Look, there's no need to cop an attitude. Garner had a good friend of mine as a patient, a friend who died recently. I have reason to believe Garner was mistreating him at the Institute."
Iverson took a sip of her own drink. "From what I hear Summerholt isn't supposed to have patients," she said mildly.
"No, but they had this one. Maybe others, as well. Maybe someone you knew?"
"Why do you want to know?"
Clark took a deep breath.
"Because if he harmed one person there's a good chance he's harmed others. The police wouldn't do anything about what happened to my friend, but if there are others who come forward, maybe the Institute will be shut down."
"There aren't any others. At least not that will come forward."
Clark tried to keep his temper in check.
"But there are others?"
Iverson smiled at him, but there was no friendliness in it.
"I don't know. What I do know is that I went to the Institute once-once- to speak to Garner and got slapped with a restraining order. My record was clean before that. He's got a lot of pull in this town and I wouldn't try to confront him if I were you."
She reached into her pocket and threw a couple of dollar bills on the table. "I think that's about all I'm willing to say."
"Wait," Clark said, holding up a hand. "Why won't you help me?"
"Because there's nothing we can do. Nice meeting you, kid, but don't bother me again."
As she headed for the exit Clark stood and nearly collided with their surly waitress. After apologizing profusely Clark rushed to the door. Metropolis U wasn't in the nicest part of town, and the dark streets were already deserted. A few cars passed but he didn't see a sign of Iverson anywhere.
It had only been a few minutes since she'd gotten up from the table: where had she gone?
Clark was puzzling over this, furious at himself for blowing his best lead, when he caught sight of something across the street to his left. A dark figure was disappearing over the top of the old brick apartment building. It moved so quickly that probably anyone other than himself wouldn't have seen it at all, and even he didn't have a chance to get a good look at who or what it was.
He rounded the corner of the coffee shop and saw a narrow alley, with a series of fire escapes leading up to the roof of the building next door. Before he let himself think about it he hurriedly climbed up the rickety metal ladders. The building was only four stories high, but he still felt a little queasy when he reached the roof.
He hated heights.
But on the other side of the uneven tar roof he saw the figure disappearing over the edge, moving with a cat-like leap on to the roof of the next building. With the sliver of moonlight visible through the cloud he could tell from the color of the hair that it was Jenna Iverson.
She seemed to pause slightly, as if to see if he was following, and then disappeared again. Clark rushed to the edge, finding another narrow alley separating him from his quarry.
He didn't know how Iverson could move so lightly and so quickly from building to building, but he was determined to follow. The problem was, the only way he knew to do so was to jump.
Well, at least this time it wasn't a leap off the Daily Planet building. It was only a few stories to the ground: he could probably survive that fall, although he really didn't want to find out firsthand.
He backed up as far as he could and took a running start. For a moment he was soaring.
And then he landed with a resounding crash on the roof of the next building. He lost his balance and skidded a few feet, his back slamming into an air conditioning unit, knocking it loose from its bolts. Rolling to his feet he brushed himself off and continued the chase.
She was several buildings ahead of him, just barely visible through the gloom. She seemed to be going just slowly enough so he wouldn't loose sight of her.
Clark quickly realized that leaping-at least the way he did it--was not a very effective way to travel. Having to back up each time for the next jump wasted time, and his landings were absolutely pathetic. No mater how hard he tried he inevitably landed on his knees or on his belly, leaving a path of dented air conditioners, satellite dishes, and antenna wires in his wake.
By the time he'd leapt onto the sixth building, this one a little taller than the others, Clark was wondering if the pursuit was truly worth it. At this rate he's never be able to catch up to Iverson.
He picked himself up again, but this time something fast moving and solid slammed into his solar plexus, knocking him back onto the tarpaper surface.
It didn't hurt, but it did knock the wind out of him. The elbow jammed into his neck didn't help either.
"You're fast, kid, I'll give you that. But you're too loud and you're too clumsy," Jenna Iverson said, looking down into his face.
She was kneeling on his upper arms, keeping him from moving, and to his surprise he wasn't able to just brush her off of him. He could feel a tremendous amount of strength, more strength than a normal person would have, in her body, pushing him down. He wondered idly if this was what his own strength felt like to other people.
Clark had never been physically restrained before, and he found he didn't like the sensation one bit. But he decided not to see how much force it would take to counter his opponent, and lay still instead.
"How did you follow me?
Clark wheezed slightly in response, and Jenna loosened the pressure against his neck so he could respond.
"I ran."
"Why? What do you want?"
"I told you, I just want to stop Dr. Garner."
In the moonlight Jenna's expression looked almost sympathetic. "And I told you, you can't. Stay out of Metropolis. It isn't safe for people like us anymore."
She released her hold on him, and backed away.
"What do you mean, 'people like us'? What are you?"
But Jenna had already stepped to the edge.
"Don't come near me again, kid," she warned. With another quick movement she disappeared over the edge.
Clark watched her as she landed in the alley below: she seemed to have no problem doing so without destroying everything around her. She glanced back at him over her shoulder, and then vanished around the corner.
Clark sat back down on the roof, feeling a little unsteady.
People like us.
What did that mean?
****************************************
"Wait. Start over," Jonathan Kent said to his son as he poured himself another cup of coffee. "You did what?"
Clark sighed. "I just followed her, only I didn't know it was her at the time. I wanted to see what it was."
Across the kitchen table his mother and Pete were looking at him, wide- eyed, as he related his tale. On the drive back from Metropolis Clark had stopped to call Pete, asking him to meet him at Clark's house and to stall Clark's parents until he got there.
Clark figured they were all going to demand an explanation about where he'd been, and it seemed easier to tell everyone at once.
"You got pinned by a girl?" Pete asked again.
"I told you, she's really strong. Besides, she caught me off guard," Clark said testily. "Otherwise I'm sure I could take her."
Martha shook her head. "So she's as fast as you, and as strong."
"Almost as strong," he corrected.
"What does this mean?" Martha looked at the other people in the room wonderingly.
"I don't know," Clark said truthfully.
"Maybe she's from the same place you are," Pete offered.
"I don't think so, Pete. For one thing, she moves differently. She's a lot more.agile than I am."
"So maybe where you come from females are different from males. You don't know." Pete seemed so fascinated with the idea that Clark felt a little sorry to spoil it for him.
"Dr. Swann was pretty sure I'm the only one here."
Jonathan sighed. "And you don't think she's come into contact with the meteor rocks?"
"No, Dad. As far as I know she's never been to Smallville, and I was right across the table from her and I didn't feel sick." Clark could understand why his father might be inclined to write Jenna Iverson off as another meteor mutation. It was certainly the simplest explanation. But the pieces just didn't fit.
"Besides, she wasn't aggressive at all. I was the one following her," Clark admitted. "If anything she just wanted me to stay away from her."
"Did she seem frightened of Garner, the way Ryan was?" Martha asked.
"No, not frightened of him. Angry, maybe, and a little.sad. Resigned, almost."
"If she's been through what we went through with Ryan that might explain her attitude," Clark's father frowned. "If she tried to get some straight answers and got a restraining order instead I'd say she has good reason to say Garner is dangerous."
"But she didn't say he's dangerous to me; she said dangerous to 'people like us.' She must have assumed I'm the same thing she is. That means there are more of them." Clark was thoughtful for a moment. "And we know from Ryan that Garner's interested in people with unusual abilities."
"Which means Ryan probably wasn't the first or the last person he tried to study," Martha supplied. "How could anyone be so cruel?"
"But that's what you and Dad have been afraid of all these years, right? That someone would take me away and study me," Clark reminded.
"It's different, Clark-we know you have a pretty good shot at defending yourself against just about anything or anyone," his father reminded him. "Ryan may have had special abilities, but he was just as vulnerable to being exploited as a regular child."
"You didn't notice anything strange about her?" Pete asked.
"She didn't have three eyes and eight arms if that's what you mean, Pete. She just looked like a normal woman. As far as I could tell that's what she is."
"You took a big chance today, son." Jonathan sat down at the table with a sigh. "Confronting Garner, and then this person, whoever she is." He shook his head.
"I told you, I'm sure she doesn't want to hurt me." Clark left aside the issue of Garner for the moment. "Somehow I need to make it clear to her that I won't hurt her, either." He straightened his back at his parents' disapproving expressions. "And you're not going to change my mind about this, so don't even bother. This isn't just about Ryan anymore-it's about me, too."
His mother laid a hand on his arm. "Clark, put yourself in you father's and my shoes. We've never had to worry about your physical safety before. But if this Jenna person has the potential to harm you." She trailed off.
"She won't harm me, I'm sure of it. She the only chance I have to get to the bottom of this. I'd like to have your and Dad's approval, but either way I'm going back to Metropolis."
Pete looked expectantly from Jonathan to Clark and back again, waiting for the explosion, but Jonathan only sighed again.
"You know we can't stop you, Clark. Just please be as careful as you can be. Maybe she can give you some answers, maybe she can't. Lord knows I can't give them to you anymore." He fixed his stern gaze on his son.
"But that doesn't mean you can trust her. Remember that."
**********************************
In his office, Dr. Henry Garner carefully unlocked the filing cabinet built into his desk. All the rest of the Institute files were kept in the main laboratory, but those dealing with sensitive information he kept under lock and key here.
Not that the rest of the staff weren't sympathetic about what he was trying to achieve. He wouldn't have hired them if they weren't. But it made no sense to take chances, either.
He carefully removed the newest file, one that had arrived by messenger only the day before. It was thin compared to his others, but he planned to soon have it full of all sorts of useful and interesting information. If everything went as planned he would be able to start work before the end of the week.
Garner picked up his Mont Blanc pen and carefully wrote on the folder's tab, in his precise handwriting, the name of the Summerhill Institute's newest patient.
Kent, Clark.
The Institute occupied a contemporary glass and steel building not far from the heart of downtown Metropolis. Lex had told him once that rent on buildings in this part of town was easily in the millions of dollars per month: as he stepped into the tastefully decorated lobby Clark wondered again where Garner was getting all of his money. How much money could there be in esoteric brain research, anyway? The Institute didn't produce or patent anything, and it didn't treat patients.
Except for Ryan.
Clark took a deep breath and approached the reception desk. Fortunately the woman on duty was a different one that he'd confronted months before, or he probably would have been thrown out on his ear. Even so she eyed his plaid shirt and blue jeans with scarcely disguised contempt.
"May I help you?"
"Uh, yes. I'd like to speak to Dr. Garner, please."
The receptionists eyed him as if he was a slightly lower form of life. Clark figured it was a good thing he's parked his truck on the next block: at least she wouldn't see the dented Ford.
"Do you have an appointment?"
"No, but I'm sure he'll want to see me when he knows I'm here," Clark lied. "Please tell him Clark Kent is here."
"Young man, Dr. Garner is very busy. I'm sure if you call and schedule an appointment."
"No, I need to see him today," Clark interrupted. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude but please let him know I'm here. It's very important. Please."
Clark did his best to look unthreatening and hopeful, and after a moment the receptionist shrugged and picked up the phone.
He breathed a sigh of relief as she dialed. The building looked like any other modern office building, but he knew from personal experience it was built like a fortress. He didn't know if he'd be able to break in again without getting caught.
The receptionist exchanged a few terse words with whoever was one the other end, and then gestured for the security guard.
Clark steeled himself for another argument, but to his surprise the woman pressed a button concealed under her desk and the double doors behind her swung open.
"Dr. Garner says he can spare you a few minutes, Mr. Kent. Joel will take you back."
Clark nodded. "Thank you."
He followed the security guard through the doors and into a wide hallway: there were no windows back here, just a series of closed doors. A few people dressed in lab coats passed them, but otherwise the interior was cool and quiet and still, with the antiseptic smell of a hospital.
Clark tried hard to get his nerves under control. He tried not to think about Ryan, and he tried not to think about what his parents would do to him if they knew he was in Metropolis and not in the Torch offices helping put the next issue to bed.
The security guard paused before a door and knocked.
"Come in," Garner's voice said.
As he stepped into the room Clark was surprised to see that the austerity of the rest of the Institute didn't reach into Garner's office. There was a plush red carpet on the floor and heavy red drapes outlining the large windows. A heavy walnut desk and matching chairs occupied the center of the room while bookcases lined the other walls. To Clark it looked more like the office of a banker than that of a scientist.
"Mr. Kent, how extraordinary you should come to see me again." Garner stood, but didn't offer to shake hands with Clark. "You can go now, Joel- I'll buzz if I need you." He waved away the security guard.
When the two men were alone in the room Garner's eyes narrowed.
"This makes twice in two weeks we've met, Clark. Is there something I can do for you?"
"So you did see me at the lecture. I wasn't sure, since you didn't respond to my question," Clark said sharply.
Garner laughed. "I never respond when people make scenes, Clark, it only encourages them. And I hope you haven't come all this way just to make more wild accusations, because I am a very busy man."
"No, actually I came because I wanted to ask if Ryan James had any family that you knew about other than his aunt."
Garner said back down behind his desk. "No, not that I'm aware of. Do you have some personal effects of his you want to dispose of?"
Clark tried not to let on that his skin was crawling at the doctor's nonchalant attitude towards Ryan.
"No, but I saw you arguing with a woman at the FutureTech lecture and thought she might be a relative."
Garner raised his eyebrows, but unlike Lex, the man was a lousy liar.
"What woman?"
It was Clark's turn to smile.
"I believe her name in Jenna Iverson. She looked really upset."
Garner folded his hands under his chin.
"Oh, of course, Ms. Iverson. The poor young woman was quite angry: accused me of treating some friend of hers who I gather has been institutionalized. Absurd, of course."
"So that was the first time you'd ever met her?"
The doctor looked hesitant for a moment. "Yes."
"That's strange, doctor, because according to the Metropolis Police you've had a restraining order against her for the last month."
Garner's eyes were mere slits now. "That was the first time we'd met in person. Ms. Iverson has been harassing my staff, making scenes in the lobby. I felt a restraining order was in the Institute' best interests. Are you accusing me of something?"
Clark leaned forward a bit.
"The friend she spoke of, it wasn't Ryan James?"
"No. Now, Clark, I think I've said all I care to. I've tried to be accommodating but if you have anything else to say to me I think you should talk to my lawyers."
Garner must have had a concealed button on his desk as well, because the door opened and the security guard reappeared.
"Sure, I'll leave. But I just want you to know that if you've hurt anyone else the way you hurt Ryan I'll find out about it, and I'll make sure you don't get away with it."
Garner smiled his cold smile.
"Threatening me, Mr. Kent?" He eyed the security guard. "You heard that, didn't you, Joel?"
"I did, Dr. Garner."
Garner stood. "Please escort Mr. Kent off the property and make sure that he doesn't return." He eyed Clark again. "And that includes any midnight visits. If you come here again I'll have you in jail so fast it will make your head spin."
Clark tried to look disingenuous. "I don't know what you mean. But you haven't seen the last of me, Dr. Garner."
Clark allowed himself to be hustled out of the room by the security guard. Back on the sidewalk outside he sighed.
Garner had unwittingly told him a few things he'd wanted to know. For one thing, whatever grudge Jenna Iverson held against Garner really did have to do with his work. The doctor had let it slip that Iverson had accused him of mistreating another patient. Where was that patient now? Why hadn't Iverson gone to the police?
Clark glanced at his watch. It was only 4:30; he figured he could spend a few more hours in Metropolis before he'd have to leave for home. He just hoped than in the meantime his parents' didn't decide to call Chloe and check up on him. Chloe would cover for him, of course, but she'd be furious that he'd gone to Metropolis without her. And Clark would almost rather face two angry parents than another fight with Chloe.
Almost. *****************************************
Darkness had fallen over the city by the time Clark reached his next objective. After leaving the Summerholt Institute he'd gone over the Metropolis University in search of Jenna Iverson. The registrar had refused to give him any information, and the secretary at the Philosophy Department had been just as reticent, although nicer about it.
"I'm sorry, but we don't give out any information about our students without their permission," the plump woman had told him. "If it's about a class I suggest you talk to the undergraduate advisor."
Under other circumstances Clark would have been pleased to be mistaken for a college student, but it didn't seem to be getting him the information he needed. He wished he thought faster on his feet: Chloe or Pete could have made up an effective lie in a few seconds, while all he could do was stand there like an idiot.
"Uh, it is about a class, well, kind of. I did need to talk to her about it, though, not the, uh, advisor."
The department secretary must have been used to having babbling kids in her office, because she had smiled.
"Well, I think the graduate council meeting should be letting out just about now-if you hurry you might be able to catch her there. Otherwise you can leave a message for her and I'll see she gets it."
"No, I'll hurry."
"The council meets in the Luthor Business Building, second floor lounge."
Clark had smiled. "Thanks."
He had waited patiently outside the business building-as ugly and intimidating as Lex had promised-and watched until a group of people left. In their midst was a tall, auburn-haired woman in jeans and a black sweater.
Jenna Iverson.
Unsure what he wanted to say, Clark had trailed the group through the main quadrangle and across the street to a coffee shop just of campus.
Now, standing outside, Clark tried to rehearse what he wanted to say to Iverson, but the questions kept getting all tangled up in his mind. He watched through the window as the group drank coffee and talked: glancing at his watch he could see there was no way he'd make it home in time for dinner.
Finally the other people started to leave, but Iverson pulled out a book and propped it up against the napkin holder to read.
Clark seized his opportunity. He went into the coffee shop, which in spite of the university clientele was anything but young and hip. Scuffed linoleum floors ran up to a long counter with old-fashioned swiveling stools, and half a dozen red vinyl booths lined the side by the windows. He approached the last booth and, when Iverson didn't look up, cleared his throat.
"Hi. Can I sit here?"
She looked at him with a stern expression in her dark brown eyes.
"There are plenty of other booths."
"I know, but I kinda wanted to talk to you."
The woman shrugged.
"Suit yourself." As Clark sat down opposite her she studied him for a moment. "You're not one of my students, are you?"
"Uh, no, I'm still in high school."
"Ok. Want some coffee?" Iverson waved at the waitress, and the sturdily built woman in a faded pink uniform unceremoniously thunked down a mug of black brew in front of Clark. He eyes it suspiciously, but didn't think this was the kind of place where he could order a cappuccino.
Iverson watched until the waitresses had retreated back behind the counter, and then turned her attention back to Clark.
"I suppose you think you're very clever, following me across campus like that. What do you want?"
Clark took a sip of the coffee and almost choked. It was dreadful stuff.
"I didn't think you saw me."
"Of course I saw you, skulking around-you're lucky no one called the campus police."
"I wasn't skulking." Clark dumped several spoonfuls of powdered creamer into his cup, hoping it would make the coffee more drinkable. It didn't. "I was just waiting for a good opportunity to speak to you. About Dr. Garner."
She closed her copy of John Stuart Mill and shoved it aside.
"What about him?"
"I saw you arguing with him at the Future Tech lecture. You said to him that he wouldn't get away with something."
Iverson's eyes widened. "How do you know what I said to him?"
Clark blushed and stirred his coffee again. "It doesn't matter. You were there, right?"
He could tell she was trying hard to look nonchalant.
"If you saw me I must have been there," she shrugged.
"Look, there's no need to cop an attitude. Garner had a good friend of mine as a patient, a friend who died recently. I have reason to believe Garner was mistreating him at the Institute."
Iverson took a sip of her own drink. "From what I hear Summerholt isn't supposed to have patients," she said mildly.
"No, but they had this one. Maybe others, as well. Maybe someone you knew?"
"Why do you want to know?"
Clark took a deep breath.
"Because if he harmed one person there's a good chance he's harmed others. The police wouldn't do anything about what happened to my friend, but if there are others who come forward, maybe the Institute will be shut down."
"There aren't any others. At least not that will come forward."
Clark tried to keep his temper in check.
"But there are others?"
Iverson smiled at him, but there was no friendliness in it.
"I don't know. What I do know is that I went to the Institute once-once- to speak to Garner and got slapped with a restraining order. My record was clean before that. He's got a lot of pull in this town and I wouldn't try to confront him if I were you."
She reached into her pocket and threw a couple of dollar bills on the table. "I think that's about all I'm willing to say."
"Wait," Clark said, holding up a hand. "Why won't you help me?"
"Because there's nothing we can do. Nice meeting you, kid, but don't bother me again."
As she headed for the exit Clark stood and nearly collided with their surly waitress. After apologizing profusely Clark rushed to the door. Metropolis U wasn't in the nicest part of town, and the dark streets were already deserted. A few cars passed but he didn't see a sign of Iverson anywhere.
It had only been a few minutes since she'd gotten up from the table: where had she gone?
Clark was puzzling over this, furious at himself for blowing his best lead, when he caught sight of something across the street to his left. A dark figure was disappearing over the top of the old brick apartment building. It moved so quickly that probably anyone other than himself wouldn't have seen it at all, and even he didn't have a chance to get a good look at who or what it was.
He rounded the corner of the coffee shop and saw a narrow alley, with a series of fire escapes leading up to the roof of the building next door. Before he let himself think about it he hurriedly climbed up the rickety metal ladders. The building was only four stories high, but he still felt a little queasy when he reached the roof.
He hated heights.
But on the other side of the uneven tar roof he saw the figure disappearing over the edge, moving with a cat-like leap on to the roof of the next building. With the sliver of moonlight visible through the cloud he could tell from the color of the hair that it was Jenna Iverson.
She seemed to pause slightly, as if to see if he was following, and then disappeared again. Clark rushed to the edge, finding another narrow alley separating him from his quarry.
He didn't know how Iverson could move so lightly and so quickly from building to building, but he was determined to follow. The problem was, the only way he knew to do so was to jump.
Well, at least this time it wasn't a leap off the Daily Planet building. It was only a few stories to the ground: he could probably survive that fall, although he really didn't want to find out firsthand.
He backed up as far as he could and took a running start. For a moment he was soaring.
And then he landed with a resounding crash on the roof of the next building. He lost his balance and skidded a few feet, his back slamming into an air conditioning unit, knocking it loose from its bolts. Rolling to his feet he brushed himself off and continued the chase.
She was several buildings ahead of him, just barely visible through the gloom. She seemed to be going just slowly enough so he wouldn't loose sight of her.
Clark quickly realized that leaping-at least the way he did it--was not a very effective way to travel. Having to back up each time for the next jump wasted time, and his landings were absolutely pathetic. No mater how hard he tried he inevitably landed on his knees or on his belly, leaving a path of dented air conditioners, satellite dishes, and antenna wires in his wake.
By the time he'd leapt onto the sixth building, this one a little taller than the others, Clark was wondering if the pursuit was truly worth it. At this rate he's never be able to catch up to Iverson.
He picked himself up again, but this time something fast moving and solid slammed into his solar plexus, knocking him back onto the tarpaper surface.
It didn't hurt, but it did knock the wind out of him. The elbow jammed into his neck didn't help either.
"You're fast, kid, I'll give you that. But you're too loud and you're too clumsy," Jenna Iverson said, looking down into his face.
She was kneeling on his upper arms, keeping him from moving, and to his surprise he wasn't able to just brush her off of him. He could feel a tremendous amount of strength, more strength than a normal person would have, in her body, pushing him down. He wondered idly if this was what his own strength felt like to other people.
Clark had never been physically restrained before, and he found he didn't like the sensation one bit. But he decided not to see how much force it would take to counter his opponent, and lay still instead.
"How did you follow me?
Clark wheezed slightly in response, and Jenna loosened the pressure against his neck so he could respond.
"I ran."
"Why? What do you want?"
"I told you, I just want to stop Dr. Garner."
In the moonlight Jenna's expression looked almost sympathetic. "And I told you, you can't. Stay out of Metropolis. It isn't safe for people like us anymore."
She released her hold on him, and backed away.
"What do you mean, 'people like us'? What are you?"
But Jenna had already stepped to the edge.
"Don't come near me again, kid," she warned. With another quick movement she disappeared over the edge.
Clark watched her as she landed in the alley below: she seemed to have no problem doing so without destroying everything around her. She glanced back at him over her shoulder, and then vanished around the corner.
Clark sat back down on the roof, feeling a little unsteady.
People like us.
What did that mean?
****************************************
"Wait. Start over," Jonathan Kent said to his son as he poured himself another cup of coffee. "You did what?"
Clark sighed. "I just followed her, only I didn't know it was her at the time. I wanted to see what it was."
Across the kitchen table his mother and Pete were looking at him, wide- eyed, as he related his tale. On the drive back from Metropolis Clark had stopped to call Pete, asking him to meet him at Clark's house and to stall Clark's parents until he got there.
Clark figured they were all going to demand an explanation about where he'd been, and it seemed easier to tell everyone at once.
"You got pinned by a girl?" Pete asked again.
"I told you, she's really strong. Besides, she caught me off guard," Clark said testily. "Otherwise I'm sure I could take her."
Martha shook her head. "So she's as fast as you, and as strong."
"Almost as strong," he corrected.
"What does this mean?" Martha looked at the other people in the room wonderingly.
"I don't know," Clark said truthfully.
"Maybe she's from the same place you are," Pete offered.
"I don't think so, Pete. For one thing, she moves differently. She's a lot more.agile than I am."
"So maybe where you come from females are different from males. You don't know." Pete seemed so fascinated with the idea that Clark felt a little sorry to spoil it for him.
"Dr. Swann was pretty sure I'm the only one here."
Jonathan sighed. "And you don't think she's come into contact with the meteor rocks?"
"No, Dad. As far as I know she's never been to Smallville, and I was right across the table from her and I didn't feel sick." Clark could understand why his father might be inclined to write Jenna Iverson off as another meteor mutation. It was certainly the simplest explanation. But the pieces just didn't fit.
"Besides, she wasn't aggressive at all. I was the one following her," Clark admitted. "If anything she just wanted me to stay away from her."
"Did she seem frightened of Garner, the way Ryan was?" Martha asked.
"No, not frightened of him. Angry, maybe, and a little.sad. Resigned, almost."
"If she's been through what we went through with Ryan that might explain her attitude," Clark's father frowned. "If she tried to get some straight answers and got a restraining order instead I'd say she has good reason to say Garner is dangerous."
"But she didn't say he's dangerous to me; she said dangerous to 'people like us.' She must have assumed I'm the same thing she is. That means there are more of them." Clark was thoughtful for a moment. "And we know from Ryan that Garner's interested in people with unusual abilities."
"Which means Ryan probably wasn't the first or the last person he tried to study," Martha supplied. "How could anyone be so cruel?"
"But that's what you and Dad have been afraid of all these years, right? That someone would take me away and study me," Clark reminded.
"It's different, Clark-we know you have a pretty good shot at defending yourself against just about anything or anyone," his father reminded him. "Ryan may have had special abilities, but he was just as vulnerable to being exploited as a regular child."
"You didn't notice anything strange about her?" Pete asked.
"She didn't have three eyes and eight arms if that's what you mean, Pete. She just looked like a normal woman. As far as I could tell that's what she is."
"You took a big chance today, son." Jonathan sat down at the table with a sigh. "Confronting Garner, and then this person, whoever she is." He shook his head.
"I told you, I'm sure she doesn't want to hurt me." Clark left aside the issue of Garner for the moment. "Somehow I need to make it clear to her that I won't hurt her, either." He straightened his back at his parents' disapproving expressions. "And you're not going to change my mind about this, so don't even bother. This isn't just about Ryan anymore-it's about me, too."
His mother laid a hand on his arm. "Clark, put yourself in you father's and my shoes. We've never had to worry about your physical safety before. But if this Jenna person has the potential to harm you." She trailed off.
"She won't harm me, I'm sure of it. She the only chance I have to get to the bottom of this. I'd like to have your and Dad's approval, but either way I'm going back to Metropolis."
Pete looked expectantly from Jonathan to Clark and back again, waiting for the explosion, but Jonathan only sighed again.
"You know we can't stop you, Clark. Just please be as careful as you can be. Maybe she can give you some answers, maybe she can't. Lord knows I can't give them to you anymore." He fixed his stern gaze on his son.
"But that doesn't mean you can trust her. Remember that."
**********************************
In his office, Dr. Henry Garner carefully unlocked the filing cabinet built into his desk. All the rest of the Institute files were kept in the main laboratory, but those dealing with sensitive information he kept under lock and key here.
Not that the rest of the staff weren't sympathetic about what he was trying to achieve. He wouldn't have hired them if they weren't. But it made no sense to take chances, either.
He carefully removed the newest file, one that had arrived by messenger only the day before. It was thin compared to his others, but he planned to soon have it full of all sorts of useful and interesting information. If everything went as planned he would be able to start work before the end of the week.
Garner picked up his Mont Blanc pen and carefully wrote on the folder's tab, in his precise handwriting, the name of the Summerhill Institute's newest patient.
Kent, Clark.