CHAPTER V

A Plan Takes Shape

Metropolis

November 1938

When Margo finished, Lois took a deep breath. "Well," she said, "that's some story! I can certainly see why you might not want to go to the police. And you think Karl Dietrich is behind it all, eh? The plot thickens."

"I'm almost sure of it, but I can't prove it. That's why I need your help, Lois."

"Me? What can I do to help?"

"I came to you because you're a reporter, Lois. You . . . know people. Who . . . know things," Margo said. "I thought if anyone could help me find Lamont, it would be you."

"Yes, you're right, I do know some people," Lois said thoughtfully, "and I think one person who can help us is right next door. Come on, Margo."

Lois led Margo back out into the hustle and bustle of the Daily Planet city room and up to the door of the office next to hers. The name on the frosted glass panel read "Clark Kent." Lois rapped on the door, and a tall, broad-shouldered man answered. He would have been extremely handsome, Margo thought, except that his eyes were obscured behind overlarge glasses, and his suit seemed somehow too big, as if there was something hidden beneath it. His fedora, with a press pass in the hat band, was casually shoved to the back of his head, as if he had come in too distracted to remove it, instead diving straight into writing his story. He seemed pleasantly surprised to see them.

"Miss Lane!" he said eagerly to Lois, "Won't you come in?"

"You'd better be clear which Miss Lane you're talking about, Mr. Kent," Lois said dryly. "This is my sister Margo, and we need your help." She swept past him and into the office which was just a little smaller than her own.

"How do you do, Miss Lane?" Clark said formally to Margo. He quickly removed the fedora and offered her his own chair. All his bumbling gallantry was charming, Margo thought, but he was no fool. Was the bumbling an act? If so, what was he hiding? There was more to him than met the eye, she decided.

"Please, call me Margo," Margo said, offering her hand and a smile. "After all, Lois is right, there are two Miss Lanes here."

"And I suppose that means you can call me Lois," her sister said dryly. "Only don't get any ideas--Mr. Kent."

"Please. Call me Clark. What can I do for you ladies?" Kent asked affably.

"Tell him, Margo," Lois said simply.

Margo related the story of Lamont's secret and the meeting with Dietrich several days before at the Cobalt Club. She noticed that all the bumbling disappeared from Kent's manner after she told her story. He was all business now.

"I see," Kent said thoughtfully, "And do you believe Dietrich was involved in Cranston's disappearance?"

"He said he wasn't, but I don't believe him. I spoke to Karl right after Lamont disappeared. He was very sympathetic, of course, but he insisted I stay out of it and let the police handle it--almost as if he didn't want me nosing around. I know he and Lamont didn't like each other at all. Lamont suspected Karl was up to something almost immediately and said he might investigate him--as The Shadow," Margo said.

"And as The Shadow, he might have discovered something dangerous. Dietrich must be pretty well connected if he can get into the Cobalt Club. That's one of the most exclusive organizations in the country," Kent mused.

"My father, my uncle, and my . . . friend, Mr. Cranston are all members," Margo said.

"Your father, your uncle . . ." Kent repeated. "Excuse me, Miss Lane--both Miss Lanes--but are you any relation to Matthias Lane of Lane Industries?"

"He's our father," Margo said simply.

Kent shot quick glances at Lois and Margo and gave a low awe-struck whistle. "Miss Lane--Lois--you never told me!"

"And you're never telling anyone else either," Lois answered, fixing him with a withering glare. "Can you imagine how everybody around here would treat me if they knew?"

"Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me," Kent said. And I know a thing or two about keeping secrets, he added to himself. Next, he said, "The people at the Cobalt Club are a very powerful group. I'm just a mild-mannered reporter. What can I do?

"Well," Lois said carefully, "in view of Lamont's . . . special abilities . . . I thought someone else with special abilities might be able to help find him--namely Superman. So I came to you to help me find him."

"Me? But Miss Lane, you've written as much about Superman as I have. You even gave him his nickname, for heaven's sake."

"Don't be coy, Mr. Kent. Everybody knows you seem to have some kind of inside information on Superman. You always seem to know what he's thinking, or what he'll do next. Though it is strange that you're never around when he is."

Kent flinched inwardly and recovered. Did she suspect something?

"All right, Miss Lane. I can go to New York, look around, and ask a few questions, but I can't guarantee that Superman will show up. Besides, I'd have to ask for a few days off from Mr. White to do it, and with the elections coming up, we both know how likely that is. Don't get your hopes up."

Kent opened the door and the group stepped out into the city room. Just at that moment, a door at the opposite end of the room, marked, "Perry White, Managing Editor," opened and a large, red-faced, white haired man emerged carrying a telegram. "Great Caesar's ghost!" he bellowed, "What a way to run a railroad!"

Clark, Lois, and Margo hurried over to Perry White. "What's wrong, Chief?" Kent asked.

"Just got a wire from our New York bureau. In three days President Roosevelt's giving a big speech to a roomful of hotshot bankers up there, but now I don't have anybody to cover it because our man Carstairs, the poor devil, fell and broke his leg! Can you believe it?"

"Gee, that is tough," Kent mused. "Say, Chief, I could go to New York and cover the speech for you. I've already filed all my big stories on the election."

"Really? Kent, you're a lifesaver. Now get back to work," White said gruffly.

"And I could go with him, Chief," Lois piped up quickly, "I'll have my story finished in, oh . . . half an hour, tops. It'll give me a chance to visit my sister Margo." Lois threw her arms around Margo in a show of sisterly affection. "She's visiting from New York, and I can return the favor! We haven't seen each other in years," she gushed. Margo shot Perry White a dazzling smile.

"Well, I . . ." White began.

"Thanks, Chief. You're a doll!" Lois blurted before White could answer. She rushed forward and gave him a peck on the cheek. Perry White turned brick red. Margo stepped forward.

"Mr. White, I really appreciate your letting Lois come to New York like this. It means more to me than you know." She too gave him a peck on the cheek.

Perry White turned an even deeper shade of red. Clark, Lois, and Margo withdrew to Kent's office for one last conference. Nearby a tall gangly copyboy watched the whole scene with a huge lopsided grin on his face. Perry White whirled and glared at him.

"Olson, what are you gawking at? Get back to work!" he snapped. "Great Caesar's ghost! Everybody get back to work! And don't call me Chief!" Perry White retreated to his office and slammed the door.

Before meeting Margo and Lois at Metropolis Station as he had agreed, Clark Kent stopped by police headquarters to see his friend, Inspector Bill Henderson.

"Say, Bill," Kent asked casually, "Do you know anybody on the force in New York that I could get in touch with if I needed to?"

"Well, I met Commissioner Weston at a policeman's ball a few years back," Henderson replied. "Struck me as a bit of a stuffed shirt to be perfectly honest. If you really want to know the score, I'd suggest Inspector Joe Cardona. One of the best cops I ever saw. Why do you want to know?"

"Mr. White asked me to go up there to cover a story, and while I was there, I thought I'd look into something . . . for a friend," Kent finished a trifle evasively.

Henderson's eyes narrowed. "You moonlighting as a private detective now?"

"Nothing like that," Kent said, "It's just--"

"Never mind, I don't want to know," Henderson interrupted. "Just remember, interfering in police business is against the law in New York just like it is here." He scribbled Cardona's name and precinct number on a scrap of paper and handed it to Kent. "And promise me you'll call Joe if you run into anything you can't handle, all right?"

"I promise, I'll call your friend Cardona the minute there's anything that even looks like trouble," Kent said with what he hoped sounded like a casual laugh.

Henderson's eyes narrowed again. "See that you do," he said. He wasn't laughing.

End of Chapter V