Part 9
Trigger
He was staring at the desk without blinking for over twenty minutes now. A knock on the door distracted him. His secretary – a new one since his last one had quit after dealing directly with his rage – peaked inside and said on a low tone as if something was preventing her from speaking out loud:
"Mr. Luthor, he's here."
"Show him in," he said after a moment of hesitation. He was still unsure that the decision he had taken had been the right one, but he was sure nothing good would come of that whole situation. Isobel had gone to great lengths to set everything into motion and it was obvious Lana's sudden resurfacing was part of it. He wasn't exactly sure why she needed her, but if she had allowed Lana's reappearance, she probably intended to repress her again once whatever she had planned for her was over. And that he could not allow.
The nervous little man that entered his office sat down in the chair opposite him and shifted uncomfortably in it. His name was professor Gerard Bouvier and he was an expert on the history of French witchcraft and coincidently, of Isobel Theroux.
"Mr. Bouvier," he greeted him putting his troubled thoughts aside.
"Mr. Luthor," he replied with a short nod.
"You probably suspect why I've asked you to come here," he said observing the man before him. He looked like someone who had a lot of secrets, like the shadow expert that had been finally brought into the light. "I'm not going to go into too many details. First, I want to know if what she's planned is possible."
"Very much so," he hesitated for a moment then added stuttering: "M-mister Luthor."
"Did you help her with…the preparations?" he asked wondering what he should do with the good professor. Kill him? Obviously, he knew too much and once he would know what he knew, it would become dangerous for him to be free. So the question was: what to do with him? Death or incarceration. Or better, a mental institution where what he said would never be taken into consideration.
"No!" he hurried to answer. "Absolutely not. I was just a…" he bit his tongue the moment he had continued the phrase. The smart thing would have been denying ever having anything to do with Mrs. Luthor, but now it was too late. He had signed his own death sentence.
"A…," Lex started for him again.
"A counselor of sorts," he said hesitantly. "But you have to understand…I thought your wife was just passionate about witchcraft history and meeting those sort of people is such a rarity that…"
"And the funding for your research must be quite a rarity as well," he interrupted him. Bouvier was ready to deny ever accepting money from his wife, but he stopped him by saying: "If it hadn't been for the money trail you so clumsily omitted to hide, I would've never found you."
"Well, yes, but it was all spent in your wife's interest, I assure you...I didn't have the money to buy some of the manuscripts she wanted to see so she gave me the money to buy them for her…others she negotiated for herself," he explained.
"What did Sergio Precarrio have that my wife wanted?" he asked leaning back in his chair.
"Nothing that I'm aware of," he said frowning. "Sergio Precarrio wasn't a fan of history. In fact he was a collector of modern…oddities if you want."
"What sort of oddities?" he asked a spark of interest evident in his eyes.
"Well…you must've seen his observatory in Nice…," he started saying.
"Yes, I did," it suddenly dawned on him that he had. It was one of the many things Sergio had showed him and Lana in Italy, but the observatory hadn't represented a big enough interest at that time – they had been married only for a few months then. He had still been floating at that time and had been brought back down to earth only when word of Lana's affair with Sergio had gotten out.
"He was one of those UFO freaks. Collecting all sorts of strange abduction memorabilia…," he went on.
"Did he ever happen to visit Smallville? After the last meteor shower?" Lex asked.
"I don't know," he shrugged.
A few blocks away, in the downtown administrative offices of Lang Pharmaceuticals, Lana was lead inside the chief lawyer's office and after a few insistences on her side, Chloe had been allowed to join her as well. She had expected to meet Michael Jeffries, the lawyer representing Lang Pharmaceuticals in the upcoming trial, but instead found a woman sitting behind the desk. Later, Chloe would explain: those lawyers handled the company's paper work and occasional off-court settlings.
"Mrs. Luthor, it's so nice to see you again," the woman greeted her with a wide smile that was as fake as her perfect teeth.
"Nice to see you too, uhm…," she thought back to the name written in big letter on the door and recalled: "Matilda," she sat down in a chair opposite the lawyer's and gestured for Chloe to sit down next to her.
"Miss Sullivan," she greeted Chloe with the same smile, not daring to ask what she was doing there or why Mrs. Luthor that brought the little snoopy bitch with her.
"Mati," Chloe greeted her with an ostentatiously mocking smile.
"What can I help you with today, Mrs. Luthor?" the lawyer turned toward Lana, continuing to smile.
"I'm here to start the termination procedures for Lang Pharmaceuticals," Lana said taking a deep breath. Her words finally managed to wipe the smile off Matilda's face. Chloe was relieved. She had started to believe her face had gotten stuck on that grimace. Soon enough though the smile – now smaller, more normal looking – reappeared on her lips as she opened a drawer and pulled out a stack of papers.
"All right," she said and Lana thought she was going to pull out a few pages of tricky questions, but Matilda slid the entire stack over the table to her. Lana blinked and stared at them unbelievingly. "Oh, almost forgot," Matilda put a hand over the papers so Lana couldn't see their contents. "I'm going to need the password that allows you to begin the procedures."
"That's preposterous! She's the one that made up this entire stupid system to begin with!" Chloe pointed out. She had been outraged when Lana had told her what Isobel had done and everything Lex had confessed to her concerning Lang Pharmaceuticals.
"Mrs. Luthor, are you sure you want to do this in the presence of a member of the press?" Matilda asked Lana on a confidential tone, ignoring Chloe.
"Yes," Lana simply told her. She was Lana Luthor after all and no one asked her for any explanations, she found herself thinking.
"Very well. Password please," Matilda said pulling the papers back toward her.
"Look, Matilda, Chloe's right. It's kind of silly to go through this whole thing I made up myself, don't you think?" she tried to convince her to let the procedures slide.
"I wish I could spare you the trouble, I really do, but I'm afraid it's no longer in my hands. Everything's been legalized. You can't terminate Lang Pharmaceuticals legally without going through the procedures anymore," she explained and then added: "You specifically asked that it all be registered that way. Don't you remember?"
"Of course," Lana forced herself to smile. "So the password…the password is…uhm…," then suddenly, like a little voice whispered it in her ear – a voice that wasn't hers – she said: "Animum remitto."
"And what does it mean?" the lawyer asked.
"I send back the spirit," Lana answered and Chloe looked at her curiously.
"There you go," Matilda smiled again and pushed the papers back toward her. "You're free to take them home. Although you probably know the answers by heart it's going to take you a while to complete all the forms and I don't want to keep you here all day. And…I suggest you complete them in private. Some of the questions are…quite delicate," she added giving Chloe a short suspicious glance.
"Thank you for your concern," Lana simply told her and stood up. Chloe did the same and they headed out of the office.
"I wonder if she's had surgery to get her face constantly on smiley-mode," Chloe said once they were down in the building's lobby.
"She did seem to be pushing it a bit," Lana noted.
"A bit?" Chloe chuckled. "The woman is a big league shark, Lana, you don't have to be nice about her."
"Can you believe all this?" Lana asked turning her attention toward the papers in her hands. "There's probably a question on every minute of her life in my body."
"Well, you did manage to guess the password. Maybe you'll get lucky with the questions too," she said optimistically.
"I hope so," Lana said sighing. "At least now I have an occupation."
"Takes the mind off the home arrest situation, huh?" Chloe noticed the bodyguards Lex had appointed to watch over Lana standing outside.
"It's not home arrest…technically," she followed her gaze.
"What I'd like to know is why he's keeping you locked up," Chloe said.
"Maybe he just doesn't want me running any further away. I mean with the papers and the trial…he can't really afford to risk losing track of me," she found herself making excuses for him. Why?
"And I'm the next Miss America," she scoffed. "There's gotta be a reason. There's always a reason," she thought back to the scrambled message she had heard at LWM. It had sounded like Isobel had left Lana in charge willingly and it wasn't all just some sort of cosmic coincidence. And if she had realized that, so had Lex. And he had, after all, heard the entire message and was more aware of certain elements than she could ever be as an outsider to their private endeavors.
"He's been nice. Less disturbing," she confessed.
"Well, he did realize it's you. Can you imagine how freaked out he is about it?" she chuckled.
"He's probably doing his best to act like he hasn't touched you at all in two years…" she noticed she was uncomfortable with the subject so she changed it: "I passed by the LWM labs. They managed to recover part of the message, but most of it doesn't make sense," she lied. Lana had enough to worry about. That was going to be her problem.
"That's too bad," Lana said and after a moment of silence added: "It's strange…on one side, I don't really seem to register that it's been two years since the meteor shower and I can't see anything or anyone – you, Lex – anyhow else as I knew you then. And on the other side, there are all these habits and feelings I picked up somewhere and I know it must've happened when I wasn't here. Like the fact I can walk on stilettos and drive that sports car or the fact I speak fluent French…"
"What about the feelings?" she asked carefully. Lana Luthor had hated her very much after all and she didn't want to think her friend had been affected by those feelings.
"I don't know," she shrugged. "Like the fact…despite everything you've told me about Lex, what he's done, what we've done, I can't bring myself to hate him. It's like something inside me is saying I should know better than to be angry at him."
"Careful, Lana, you might be slipping down the Isobel slope a little too much," Chloe pointed out.
"Believe me, I'd give anything to feel like I was in charge of my own emotions again," she said sighing.
That night, Lex returned home, tired after a day of chasing confirmations right and left and trying to find solutions to the predicaments he had previously been unaware of being in. He loosened his tie as soon as he entered the apartment and headed straight for the bar to pour himself a glass of scotch. It was one of the first things he did when he got home because it relaxed him. He made a mental note to be more careful with the drinking because soon enough the press – so avid for speculations – would turn him into a notorious alcoholic.
At first, he didn't even register the fact Lana was there. He had gotten too used to coming home to an empty apartment. The rare times his wife decided to surprise him never meant anything good. She either wanted to talk business somewhere where she could persuade him into accepting something through more unorthodox ways or she was having one of her famous jealousy or anger fits.
The first hint that someone was there was the lights being on in his bedroom. Then the faint smell of a feminine presence. The jacket left awkwardly over the back of a chair… He had had a moment of slight confusion. Who could it be? Then instantly: Lana.
He made his way to the bedroom where the door had been left cracked open. He gently pushed it wide open. When he came across the picture in front of him, he smiled. Lana was lying on the bed, fast asleep with a mountain of papers scattered around her and at the foot of the bed. He noticed she was still clutching a pen in one of her hands. He walked over to the bed as silently as possible and bent down to see what the papers were. Hundreds and hundreds of questions filled the white pages, some answered, others left with a question mark written with a pencil in the answer box. He scanned the questions quickly. Part of them were about the 17th century and witchcraft. Others were personal. Lana shifted in the bed and half opened her eyes.
"The termination procedures for Lang Pharmaceuticals," she explained sleepily, then turned her head to the other side, closing her eyes. "Have to…there's this part…I have to go to the factory tomorrow…somehow…I know I'll find the answers there," she muttered and he wasn't sure she was awake. He looked back down at the papers in his hands and put them on the nightstand, then carefully started gathering the ones spread on the bed, trying his best not to wake her. When he was picking up the papers scattered next to her head, one of her hands reached out to his arm, moved under the unbuttoned cufflinks of his shirt and she whispered: "Aren't you coming to bed?"
He froze. She was asleep. This wasn't her talking. A little voice inside his head wondered why he couldn't just take advantage of the situation, he couldn't be later blamed for anything given she was the one asking…Shutting that voice away, he gently removed her hand and put it back down across her stomach. After pulling the hair away from her face, he resumed gathering the papers. He leaned over her to reach some of the papers and felt her body stirring beneath him. A million flashbacks hit him at once and he tried as hard as possible to shake them off and concentrate on what he was doing. One of her hands pulled the shirt out of his pants and moved up to caress his stomach.
"Come on, Lex, it's been over a month," she muttered under her breath and her hand moved lower and lower until it lost itself beyond his belt and beneath the fine Italian fabric of his pants.
"Lana," he said on a warning tone. And as if that had been enough to wake her up, her eyes fluttered open and she stared up at him confused. Then realization suddenly dawning on her…her hand was wrapped around…
"Oh god," she let out horrified and embarrassed and quickly pulled her hand away. "I'm sorry. I…I…" she had no idea what had happened.
"It's all right. You were just having a dream," he said trying to appear unphased by her actions. Clearing his throat, he pulled away from the bed, still holding the papers in his hands. "I…uhm, I saw you managed to answer some of the questions."
"Yeah," she nodded chasing away the last specters of her dreams. "I guess she never counted on 17th century witchcraft being internet searchable."
"And the rest?" he asked as he arranged the papers in his hands over the ones he had left on the nightstand.
"I remember things. Here and there. It's weird. It's like she knew the exact question that would make me remember a certain thing," she said sighing. "Although some of the questions were confusing and didn't make much sense. Like: what's the meaning of the color green? When and where was there an S? Can you believe it?"
"That is strange," he smiled weakly. "And you were saying something about having to go to the Lang Pharmaceuticals factory tomorrow…"
"Oh, yeah…to the one in the industrial area. For some reason, while I was reading all those weird questions, I suddenly got the urge to go there. Like something there could make me understand what they were all about," she shrugged. "Maybe it will or maybe I'm just mistaking every thought I have with some sort of repressed memory coming back. But…better safe than sorry."
"Absolutely," he nodded.
"This is your bedroom isn't it?" she realized. "And here I am stealing your bed. With all the other empty rooms there are."
"It's no problem, really. If you feel more comfortable, stay here. I have no problem sleeping in a guestroom," he assured her.
"Thanks," she smiled. "It's just… this room feels less cold and more lived in than the others."
"I'll let you rest now," he excused himself and headed for the door. "Good night."
"Good night," he heard her whisper as he closed the door shut behind him.
Once he was back in the living room, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Bringing her there had been a terrible idea. Now he was going to spend the night twisting and turning in his bed, wondering what she was doing, what she was dreaming, who she was dreaming about. He rubbed his face tiredly. And here he had been thinking he was finally going to get a good night's rest. Sighing again, he pulled out his cellphone and taking his drink with him made his way to the guestroom located furthest away from his bedroom. He dialed a number and when the person on the other end of the line picked up, he said:
"I want you to bomb Lang Pharmaceuticals' factory from the industrial area. Tonight. I want it to be ashes by morning."
End Part 9
