(Lowell County School Board, Committee Room 100-A, Smallville)
Clark glanced warily to his left. His father and Gabe Sullivan (the co-sponsor of the petition) sat at the first table, in front of the board of trustees. The rest of the parents jammed every row of seats behind them. Clark had dinner with his father an hour ago, but no one said a word at the kitchen table. They were entrenched in their positions. Jonathan Kent and the other parents wanted Miss Bertinelli out; Clark wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt.
After the Talon incident, Clark was not as certain about the student teacher from Gotham City. The seats behind him were almost empty, except for a few parents and townspeople. Clearly, most of the town agreed with his father and Mr. Sullivan. In a few moments, Lana and Chloe arrived. Chloe sat beside her father, who planted a kiss on her forehead. Lana sat near the aisle and looked towards Clark, but he kept his gaze focused on the committee ahead of him. Their truce at the Torch was over.
There were chants in the hallway outside. When the doors opened, a long file of students in the crimson-and-gold colours of the Smallville Crows cheered. Clark beamed in surprise. The girls' volleyball team came to support their coach. They all wore black armbands and unfurled a homemade banner, which read: WE SUPPORT MISS BERTINELLI! DON'T JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS COVER! Mindy, the player with a crush on Clark, waved at him. "Go Crows, GO CROWS!" the team cheered enthusiastically.
"There will be no more outbursts allowed once the proceedings begin," the superintendent – a regal-looking, middle-aged woman with silver-streaked hair – instructed. "Clark Kent, I was told Miss Bertinelli and her union rep were attending?"
Clark stood up. "Yes – I mean, they were supposed to be here by now …" The rear door opened and a young man in his late twenties rushed to the seat beside Clark. He plopped his briefcase clumsily on the table.
"You're the union rep?" Clark wondered. "I was told the rep was … umm … more experienced at this sort of thing."
"I got the call from the union an hour ago," the union rep replied. "I'm the best that you've got on short notice." He looked around in awe at the size of the boisterous crowd. "There's a first time for everything, I suppose."
"You mean … you've 'never' been to a board hearing before?" Clark gasped. The union rep shrugged. "I've been with the union six months. Anyhow, there's not much for me to do, experienced or not. I'll inform the board that I'm filing a grievance with the union, they'll send it to arbitration and –"
"Arbitration?" Clark blurted. "But that'll take months! The school year will be over by then, and so will the volleyball season!"
"I'm sorry, Clark," the union rep offered. "The ball is in the board's court now. And they know it."
A loud cheer erupted from the parents' side of the room. Lex Luthor had entered. He shook the hands of several parents, while others patted his shoulders in gratitude.
"With all the glad-handling, some might get the impression that you're running for public office," Chloe quipped as Lex passed her. Lex remained tight-lipped, but she could tell that he enjoyed the public adulation. Most of the parents chose to blame Zucco and Bertinelli for the Talon shootings. A Smallville girl died, and they wanted justice.
Lex made his way to the front and sat behind Jonathan and Gabe.
"I'm glad you could come, Mr. Luthor," Gabe shook his hand firmly. "I thought it would be important for the entire community to stand united on this."
"It's no trouble at all," Lex answered, "though I had the impression that my help could be problematic." He looked squarely at Jonathan.
"Gabe suggested that inviting you here was the right thing to do," Jonathan admitted. "This isn't Gotham City, and we don't want our town to become just another crime-ridden statistic."
"On that, we're in agreement," Lex accepted Jonathan's change of attitude and shook his hand. He was impressed with the number of parents and townspeople who had rallied to their cause. "If we're to build a community for tomorrow, then it's appropriate that we resolve its problems today … with one, united voice."
Lex, amused at the sight of the youthful union rep, caught Clark's attention. "It's not too late, Clark," he suggested. "Miss Bertinelli chose her own fate when she adopted her family's legacy as her own. This war between her and Zucco isn't your fight."
"You've already taken Zucco's side," Clark snapped, "so I don't expect you to understand. Can't you see – she's being blamed for everything her father did! Franco Bertinelli was a gangster … Miss Bertinelli isn't!"
"I believe she's spoken for herself already, Clark," Lex observed. "Otherwise, she'd have made the effort to come here to defend her own name." The seat reserved for Miss Bertinelli remained vacant.
When the rest of the board trustees arrived, the superintendent rang a bell. "This meeting will come to order. If Helena Bertinelli isn't here, we shall proceed without her."
The young union rep stood up. "I – I'll speak on her behalf. The teachers' union objects to this process, and we will file a grievance with the union." Some of the parents protested loudly. "Get her out!" one of the fathers belted out. "Get the mob out!" Emotions ran high, and Jonathan quickly turned around to maintain order among the parents.
The superintendent leaned towards her microphone. "The board so notes the union grievance."
"Point of order," Jonathan declared. "The parents of Smallville High have a petition …" he stood and unfolded a long list of names, "… requesting that Helena Bertinelli be removed from the classroom for the rest of this school year. We're concerned for the safety of our sons and daughters at school, and that of the town. We move that the school board accepts our request to suspend Ms. Bertinelli's teaching license in this county indefinitely." Gabe put a protective arm around Chloe, who was a victim of the Zucco mob. Most of the parents applauded, and raised their hands in solidarity when the board asked for someone to second the motion.
The superintendent studied the petition. "Do we have any objections?" The volleyball team shrieked in protest, while Clark, the union rep and their few supporters raised their hands to oppose the motion. "I'm terribly sorry, Clark," the union rep lamented. "The motion carries," the superintendent stated. She tapped her gavel, and Clark hung his head in defeat.
"Hold your horses, little lady," a loud voice boomed from the rear of the room. "This fight's just getting started …" The entire room turned around to see who dared to challenge them.
A tall, dark-haired and broad-shouldered man in a light-grey pinstriped suit marched boldly to the front of the room. "Clark Kent?"
"And you are --?" Clark inquired. Who the hell is this guy?
"Harvey Dent, defense attorney, Dent Barristers-at-Law, Gotham City," the lawyer grinned. He winked at the volleyball team and gave them high-fives. "I mentored Bruce back in business school. I take it the board just canned your pal, Helena, and the union copped out with some arbitration 'get-out-of-responsibility' pass?"
"In a nutshell," Clark replied, still uncertain about what had happened.
"Who 'is' he?" Lana whispered to Lex.
Lex clenched his teeth. "Harvey Dent, Attorney to the Stars. Whenever some Hollywood celeb or big-name sports star steps out of line with Gotham P.D., Harvey swaggers to their rescue. He's as arrogant and sleazy as they come, and the only reason he's held in high regard is his association with the Wayne Foundation!"
"Sleazy?" Dent objected. "Now, it seems to me, Mr. Luthor, that your fishy arrangement with Zucco led to this whole Talon incident."
"That's slander!" Lex barked. "Park your photo-op driven legal hysterics elsewhere!"
"Another fight for another time," Dent brushed off Lex's protests. He whipped out a blue sheet and planted it before the trustees. "Motion to suppress, Madam Superintendent. All the quote-unquote 'evidence' these irate parents have presented is gobbledygoop, tabloid flim-flam. Hearsay with no basis in fact. What my client's family has done in the past has no bearing on her abilities as a teacher, or as a volleyball coach for that matter!"
"This isn't a court of law, Mr. Dent," the superintendent insisted. "Spare us the celebrity court theatrics."
"I apologize," Dent grinned as he bowed his head in deference. "I mistook this witch trial as a fair hearing. If the board plunges ahead with this ludicrous scheme and destroys an innocent woman's teaching career, I promise you that I'll turn what just transpired here into juicy headline material. I'll be yapping my big mouth on every talk show from here to Star City. In a week, America will know this town for something other than a meteor shower! Meteor freaks will be the least of Smallville's problems!" The crowd degenerated into a shouting match between the parents, the volleyball team and Helena's few supporters.
"I regret that I couldn't meet Miss Bertinelli in person," Dent continued. "But don't you worry, Clark. I've got her back. It seems you did, too. Alfred figured that you might need someone to pinch-hit." Whether Alfred acted alone or with Bruce's blessing, Clark was relieved that they put a stop to the proceedings, for now.
"Mr. Dent, we only want what's best for our town," Jonathan explained. "Flashy media trials might work well in Gotham City, but we know we're doing the right thing."
"So you'd sell out Ms. Bertinelli to keep this pipe dream of small-town bliss afloat?" Dent argued. "Wake up, folks! You're not going to fight the mob with petitions alone! It's gone way beyond that, and if you can't realize it, Mr. Kent, then I am truly sorry for your naivety, and that of your town. In my experience, corruption breeds corruption. If this petition goes through, I'll bring a civil lawsuit into county court tomorrow morning. Every name on your petition, every person on your board will be named as defendants. I've never lost a case in four years. You take Helena Bertinelli down today, and we take this game to the post-season."
"But Mr. Dent," Gabe Sullivan protested, "Those mobsters almost killed my daughter! We're only protecting our families here!"
"The people are on our side, Mr. Dent," Lex added. "Look, I only know you by your reputation -- such as it is. If you're here by proxy as Wayne Manor's representative, I'll have no choice but to view this as a personal affront. In this county, home field advantage is mine. Tread carefully, counsellor."
"That's what you'd call a classic, Luthor threat," Dent scoffed. "And I'm the one with 'hysterics'? You can't have it both ways, Lex. Blaming the same mob you're between the sheets with on that corporate plaza? Come on! I've got Gotham University, the Wayne Foundation and a sympathetic East Coast media on my side. I know your family by reputation too, and now that I've met you I suspect that we won't be sharing beer and nachos at a Sharks game anytime soon."
He strolled confidently, oblivious to the shouts of the angry parents. "It's already become personal: the moment you declared war on this poor girl's reputation. Tell me, how much did it cost for Tony Zucco to buy your soul?" Lex avoided Dent's allegations. "If her reputation was so valuable to her," he challenged, "then why isn't she here to defend it herself?" Dent didn't have an answer to that, but he continued to berate Lex, Jonathan and Gabe at the same time.
The board completely lost control of the meeting, as the gravity of Dent's pending lawsuit loomed over them. The superintendent frantically tried to restore order and hammered away with her gavel. "We shall adjourn this meeting tonight," she announced, "and resume only if parties are willing to present their interests fairly, without the grandstanding." But that only encouraged the bickering to continue.
In the commotion, Clark wasn't sure if Miss Bertinelli's career was saved or ruined. He toyed with something in his jacket pocket, and pulled it out. It was Miss Bertinelli's rosary. She wanted him to keep it safe, since it was a gift from her mother.
"Blessed in Rome," Clark wondered aloud. He stepped into the hallway to clear his head, still confused about why she gave it to him.
"Clark! Where are you going!" Lex demanded, pursuing him. "Bruce and his smug, high-priced lawyer are about to steamroll over the wishes and interests of this community –" He spotted the rosary in Clark's hands before he could pocket it. "A rosary? I didn't realize you were Catholic."
"It's not mine," Clark said. "Miss Bertinelli gave it to me for safe-keeping. I don't know why. She said it was blessed in Rome."
"A rosary blessed by the Pope," Lex said, "would be tantamount to a holy relic for a Catholic, even one as lapsed as Helena Bertinelli. Why would she part with something so valuable –" Lex paused. Tony Zucco! She parted with her family heirloom because she was going to do something shameful. Something sinful. That had to be the reason!
"Clark, I'm afraid I'm about to be proven right," Lex grumbled. "Helena gave that heirloom to you because she knew she was about to do something wrong in the eyes of the Church. Where is she? She's got to be up to something against Tony Zucco!"
"She wouldn't do that!" Clark blurted. "I tried to contact her this afternoon, but she'd already cleared her things from her classroom." When she said she was planning to do something about it, he believed that she was going to defend herself at the board and speak out against the mob. He stared at the ceiling in disbelief. "I thought she was coming here to fight the petition. Now, I don't know where she could have gone!"
"She must be headed for the A-Train Jazz Club in Metropolis, Zucco's local hideaway," Lex concluded. "Whatever she has planned, it can't bode well: for us or her." Clark thought about super-speeding his way there, but Lex held his arm in a firm grip. "Clark, even if you drove there, you'd have to fight rush-hour traffic! You won't get there in time. I'll have the LuthorCorp. helicopter airborne in five minutes." Before Clark could object, Lex called his cellphone.
Later, Clark and Lex crossed the school board parking lot and climbed into the copter. As they soared towards the endless Kansas sky, Clark hoped that murder was not on Miss Bertinelli's homework "to-do" list.
(Luthor Commerce Square development, Metropolis financial district)
Louie brushed his long, unkempt hair away from his face. The boss wanted him to keep an eye on the construction site entrance. Most people would expect Tony Zucco to meet his Metropolis lieutenants at the A-Train Jazz Club, but that would be too conspicuous. This meeting had nothing to do with the construction of the corporate plaza, and everything to do with The Jazzman's next move. Zucco had taken down the Syndicate's number-one bagman in Gotham, and everybody knew that The Jazzman would respond in kind. The question was: would The Jazzman strike in Gotham City, or in Metropolis?
I'm just a small fish, Louie concluded. Not my concern. He chomped into his Big Size chocolate peanut butter cup, carefully savouring the filling. For a moment, he thought he heard something at the metal fence. It was nothing. Louie became a full associate of the Zucco mob family only six months ago. Zucco's uncle was his godfather: Zucco trusted family above all. Louie always admired the loyalty in the mob because it seemed unbreakable.
On the south end of the construction site, Helena cut the last barbed-wire ring, and carefully scaled the fence. Slowly, she descended the other side and crouched behind a pile of metal tubing. Around the perimeter, she spotted a dozen Zucco associates armed with shotguns or semi-automatic weapons. An "anonymous" payphone call to the jazz club had confirmed that he left there for the night. Zucco had to be here, she snarled. She stalked in the shadows, minding the amber flood lighting around the perimeter fences.
But where could Zucco be? There had to be a site office somewhere, but she could be spotted if she searched the entire site. A large sentry stood near the gates of the construction site. The north end of the site was also heavily guarded. The shortest route would be across the gravel road near the main gates. If she were spotted, the sentry would raise the alarm and she would be trapped.
Helena threw a rock against a wheelbarrow. This time, Louie decided to check where the sound was coming from. He hastily stuffed his bag of potato chips into his pocket and drew his gun. He had never shot a person before, but he knew his time would come one day.
As he turned to look behind a stack of crates, Helena kicked the gun from his grasp and swiftly kicked him in the groin. Louie bowled over, which gave Helena the opening she needed. She wrapped his neck in a suffocating arm lock.
"Cry out, and I snap your neck!" Helena seethed. "Where is Tony Zucco?"
Louie could barely breathe, and he felt like he was going to pass out. His eyes seemed to tilt towards a darkened area of the site. It had to be the site office trailers!
"Who … are … you?" Louie gasped faintly, and then he collapsed. His gun dropped from his limp fingers.
Helena stared at the cold, bleak gunmetal. She could still turn back, and she could leave her past behind for good. But Zucco would still maim and kill people in Gotham, in Metropolis … and anywhere else the mob wanted him to desecrate with their prostitution, extortion and drugs. The police couldn't touch him, many politicians owed him favours and the law was only a tool he exploited for his purposes.
It must end tonight, Helena swore. The blood-splattered image of her murdered family was burned in her memory. A bullet would be too swift, too merciful for Gotham's top mafia boss. He deserved to suffer before he died, but she might not have another opportunity to get this close to him. She cautiously approached the eerie shadows where the site office had to be.
The next few minutes unfolded like a dream to her. A flurry of fists, kicks, and defensive blocks … and one more Zucco associate fell. Adrenaline pulsed through her muscles, driving her forward. A dim light revealed a doorway, labelled 'Site Office'. A few shadows mingled inside. One of the associates outside spotted her and drew his pistol. Helena cursed. One accurate shot and her mission would end, her vow unfulfilled. She stabbed her heel into his gut, while thrusting her arm upward to knock the pistol out of his hand. A chop to the back of his neck silenced his cry. Keep going, Helena, she told herself. There was some movement inside the trailer office. Using her shoulder to ram the door, she forced her way inside. Keep moving, she ordered herself. There were two men in the office. One baby-faced associate in a cream-coloured suit pulled out a switchblade, lunged forward and slashed at her face. She yelped – he had drawn blood. He tried to stab her again, but she blocked it and grabbed his forearm. She twisted it with all her strength and let out a guttural scream. Breaking his arm, she shoved him into a file cabinet and scooped up the blade.
Only Tony Zucco remained.
He reached for his breast pocket. Helena stormed atop the desk and flung herself upon Zucco. She impaled the blade into Zucco's hand, which began to spurt blood. Zucco roared in anguish and collapsed on the floor.
"Franco and Maria Bertinelli send their regards," Helena growled.
"You!" Zucco shrieked. "Franco's daughter. A traitor's daughter! You just made a grave mistake. You should have stayed in the shadows, little girl!"
He could be right, she feared. A police siren awoke the night, as gunshots rang out in the distance. Did someone raise the alarm? Or have Zucco's dons arrived? She had run out of time.
"Take your last breath," Helena commanded. The bright-red gash on her face began to seep. "It all ends this night!" Helena drew her gun, and aimed the nozzle at the temple of Zucco's head. Death could still claim her tonight; it no longer mattered. She would take the Gotham kingpin with her to Hell, if necessary.
It was now Tony Zucco's turn to plead for God's mercy.