Chapter Ten
20:45 PM – 19 Hours and 45 minutes to Phase 3
Lois put a tray, carrying a large carafe of hot coffee, sweetened to her taste, and her "Superman" mug, to one side before sliding her messenger bag off her shoulder and emptying the contents onto her desk.
She hunted through the mess of her spilled bag for a couple of USB flash drives, which she knew she'd put in there at some point over the last few weeks. Retrieving the slim data files, she cleared the rest of her workspace of any unwanted papers and clutter, before activating a set of deep file draws that rose up from the floor, at the foot of her desk.
Lois grinned wickedly each time she activated the filing cabinet—admiring her husband's versatility with a set of power-tools.
When it came to secret compartments, Clark could out-do Ollie every time. Bruce still trumped them both, of course, but Bruce's paranoia was on a level even her cynicism found hard to stomach.
Leafing through the file headers Lois reached in and found the ones she'd been looking for: Tess Carmichael, Lex Luthor.
Lois always kept her research notes. Even if a story didn't pan out at the time, she'd continue to add whatever new information she came across to the existing files. This method had proven to be invaluable over the years, providing her with key information that had helped her to break stories and inspire fresh angles on old subjects to investigate.
Lois hoped for some of that inspiration now as she pored over her old files and notes.
Perhaps her current investigation was irrational, after all she'd never found anything she could prove about Lex, minus a few misdemeanours his lawyers had always managed to smooth over, and she'd yet to find anything shoddy about Tess Carmichael.
But last night … that looked she'd given them; it had sent icy tendrils of fear down Lois' spine and she couldn't shake the feeling that her instincts were warning her about the woman.
While Lois didn't really subscribe to the touch-feely, six-sense brigade, she did trust her gut, and it was executing quadruple summersaults, badly, every time she recalled Tess' grim expression.
And if Tess were up to something, Lex would have to be too, simple fact as far as she was concerned. She just had to find the connection.
Lois poured herself hot coffee from the carafe and took a sip of the heavenly liquid. The coffee would keep her mind alert while she worked into the night, and the work would keep her mind off of Clark and his nightly patrol. He'd be home in a few hours, she confidently reminded herself, and he'd be fine. He always was.
Pushing the mug across the desk she noticed a Manila, A-4 sized envelope. It had fallen out of her bag earlier, when she's tossed the contents looking for her USB's. She couldn't remember picking it up from the Planet, when she'd left work, but it wouldn't be the first time she'd grabbed work papers in haste.
Picking the envelope up she turned it over and instantly recognised Jimmy Olsen's neat script. She opened the package to find a grainy, vaguely familiar picture, not even half the size of the packet and a note from Jimmy, which read:
"I'm on assignment with Ron, covering Senator Reeve's visit to Brussels. We fly out first thing tomorrow, and I didn't want to forget to pass this on before I left.
My friend, Jamahl, in the World Image Archives, has confirmed that you are now looking at the only known image of Satirev Tenralk. It's not the greatest candid, but I thought you'd appreciate it.
See you soon,
Jimmy."
Lois shook her head and smiled. Jimmy, he never let her down. She made a mental note to thank him for the picture when he got back in a day or two. She recognised the picture now, it was the one Jimmy had been trying to get her attention with while she'd been finishing up the Queensland Park Strangler story with Clark.
Jimmy hadn't been kidding, the picture wasn't great at all; in fact it was damn pitiable. Grainy quality with a dark background, outlining the shape of a Caucasian, non-descript male of average build who appeared to be entering a limo during a rain shower.
Considering the quality of the photo, Lois wasn't sure how it could have been verified. She checked her watch, it was too early to be calling Paris, but Lois scribbled a note onto the envelope reminding her to contact Jamahl about the photo. She then texted Jimmy, thanking him for photo and requesting his friend's contact details.
Retrieving the Tenralk file from her cabinet she used a paper clip to pin the picture to the front of the elusive billionaire's file.
Elusive billionaires, she mused, gazing between Tenralk's file and Lex Luthor's.
Ollie and Lex. Ollie and Bruce. Bruce and Lex.
Wouldn't it stand to reason that…?
Why had she never thought to check this simple and obvious fact before?
"Dumb ass!" she berated herself.
-8-
02:10 AM – 14 Hours and 20 minutes to Phase 3
It would be easy for the average person to believe that with Superman watching over the city, crime in Metropolis would be at an all time low. And while there was no doubting that a significant number of would-be offenders had gone straight or more likely, bee-lined it for a neighbouring city or State--one without a seemingly, indestructible super hero--Clark Kent knew better.
For whatever the number of those that were deterred by Superman's presence, more always popped-up to replace them--like weeds on high-strength fertilizer.
They came from all over, like big-game hunters on the trail of a rare or mythical beast; all looking for the ultimate challenge.
Whether they were meteor powered or Meta-human, criminally insane, supernaturally powered, or just good old-fashioned deviants, they all came looking to enhance and embolden their reputations.
All of them vying with and fighting against each other for one indisputable privilege: to be the first to take down Superman.
Clark could almost equate the cyclical pattern, of the upturn in criminal crazies, with the planting season he was used to on the farm. Not that the winter months weren't busy enough for Superman, but it was as if crime seemed to get a second wind during the Spring and Summer, as if the warmer temperatures and sunnier skies would somehow give evil machinations an edge.
Clark often grinned at the irony.
At least tonight hadn't been so bad, he mused; he'd certainly had much worse evenings.
He'd put out the fire of a burning cargo vessel anchored off Hobb's Bay; saved a middle-aged couple, on their way home after a night out at the theatre, from a mugging by a gang of thugs; scared two youths out of burgling a home in Bakerline with the use of his super-breath and some severe words of warning if they didn't change their ways. After that he'd quickly flown to the aid of two State troopers, who were trapped in their police cruiser, after crashing while in pursuit of a stolen car. And that had just been the last two hours.
A few people may have been bruised and a little banged up tonight, but at least there had been no fatalities, and as far as Clark was concerned that was always a win-win situation.
Deciding Superman had done enough for the night, Clark headed home. The weekend was fast approaching and an early night (for him), would speed up its arrival as he looked forward to a quiet getaway with Lois up north--way north he grinned to himself.
With the anticipation of the weekend and practically a full night of uninterrupted sleep before him, Clark dispensed with his nightly ritual, of flying above the Earth's upper atmosphere to re-charge his solar battery-like-body, before heading for home.
-8-
He'd expected to find their apartment in darkness, with Lois tucked up in bed and sleeping. Instead he'd found his wife slumped over her cluttered desk, surrounded by what appeared to be her latest research notes. He quickly scanned them, intrigued and yet not really surprised to find that Lois was still looking into Lex and his business dealings, and the Russian billionaire, Satirev Tenralk.
Prizing her gently apart from her papers, Clark couldn't help smirking indulgently at his wife's unwavering commitment to a story.
Her tenacity and determination had always been a part of his attraction to Lois, it had just taken him years to realise it and even longer to admit it to himself.
It was through her that he'd begun to realise that one person could make a positive difference to the world and to the community they lived in. No super-powers required.
Through her he'd seen the meaning of true courage, how she'd stood up to threats, intimidation and physical violence in order to bring to the city, and as a consequence, to the world at large, justice where there was bias and discrimination.
Everyday she fought to bring some measure of truth to the world, and to rectify the lies and abuses of those in power, wherever she could find them.
All of these attributes contributed to the award winning journalist that she was, but more than anything, it was her unwavering loyalty, passion and commitment to her family and friends, regardless of how they'd ever treated her; it was her faith in tomorrow and the way that she refused to let disappointments and failures blight her incredible spirit or the huge generosity of her heart.
All of this and more was why he loved her, all of this and more was why he never wanted to be parted from her and had said, "Yes," nanoseconds after she'd jokingly asked him to marry her.
A few minutes later Clark eased himself into bed behind the still sleeping and now naked Lois, hugging her close and placing sweet, soft kisses against the inviting skin of her neck. He drew in a breath through his nose, inhaling her scent and relishing the silky feel of her hair against his chin and cheeks. Instinctively he rubbed his bourgeoning erection against Lois' backside. She mewled quietly in her sleep gently moving her ass back up and onto her husband's attentive cock.
Clark sighed, loving the feel of her silky, soft, skin against the length of his own.
Lois moaned, still out of it, sounding like she was enjoying a particularly languid dream, and in doing so, her thighs opened willingly and wide when Clark nudged at them with his own, allowing him to slip a thigh between her legs and slide into her easily.
Lois couldn't help but wake at the feel of her mate. "Ugh … Smallville," Lois breathed out, her voice sleep roughened, yet heavy with desire.
"This okay?" Clark whispered the question thickly against her neck, his body stilling.
"Umm… oh, yeah," she murmured on a delicious sigh. "Missed you."
He'd missed her too. "God, I've missed being inside you," he hissed.
They were supposed to be saving themselves for this weekend, Clark thought fuzzily as they began to make love.
With their chaotic schedules and his never-ending commitments as Superman finding the time to make love fully had been at a premium and they'd been forced into teenage-style groping sessions with the occasional round of oral sex (time permitting) at home or in storage closets at work--when they could stand the enforced lack of intimacies no longer.
Well, he was sick of waiting.
Lois turned her head towards him and they kissed hungrily, lips and teeth clashing. "Don't ever stop," she urged, a hand high up over her shoulder and fixed securely around his neck.
Clearly Lois was sick of waiting too.
"I love you so much."
It had literally been weeks since he'd been inside of her.
He brought her to peak three times before he joined her in bliss, and it was long minutes before their laboured breaths and exhausted, open mouthed, wet, kisses settled into sleepy sighs before they drifted off into a satiated and contented slumber, their limbs still intimately entangled.
-8-
09:48 AM – 6 Hours and 42 minutes to Phase 3
Lois Lane didn't do "patience" well.
By the time 09:35 AM, CST had rolled around she'd left three voice mail messages and several texts for Jimmy's friend to contact her on her cell phone or at her desk at the Daily Planet, but as yet, she'd heard nothing from him, and clearly the guy wasn't answering his phone or checking his messages.
Lois checked her watch and quickly calculated the time difference. "C'mon, buddy," she mentally urged. "It's after four in the afternoon there, already. Pick up your damn phone and call me!"
Damn it, if she couldn't pester Jimmy's friend about what he knew, who else could she interrogate that might have some useful information?
Lois cast her gaze around the busy office space. Clark, seated across from her, was sipping at a cup of coffee, while he had his phone pressed to his ear, no doubt on hold, she concluded.
Swivelling her chair in slow arc to look further afield, across the bullpen, she spotted the perfect substitute in place of Jimmy's former roommate.
-8-
Kim Okuda was the Daily Planet's industrial editor and most senior business journalist. If anyone could give Lois added insight into the comings and goings of LexCorp and Tenralk Oil's dealings, it was the chubby, balding, softly spoken forty year-old.
"What's this about, Lane?" he'd asked in a friendly, but suspicious baritone, when Lois had sidled up to his desk.
Okuda was no fool.
No matter how many beers she and Clark had shared with him and other work colleagues at Oscar's Bar and Grill, they both knew the only reason she was perched on the corner of his desk now, was because she wanted something. Something that maybe Okuda, with his knowledge, would be best placed to follow up.
But Lois had no intention of letting any potential story be wrangled away from her, regardless of how much she respected and liked the man.
She'd have to choose her words and actions carefully.
"You know I've been working background material for Tenralk Oil for a while now, right?"
"Yeah--the whole bullpen heard about that, Lois. What ever happened to that famous exclusive you were going to brings us about him, hmm?" he asked in a challenging tone.
"Thanks for clueing me into what a social animal he is, by the way" she sarcastically deflected. "Besides, you're the business guru, Kim, shouldn't you have had some type of interview with him from way back or … I don't know … an exclusive of your own?" she returned, mockingly.
"Hey, now children, no fighting," Clark's deep voice chuckled, as he approached the other side of Okoda's desk to interrupt their quarrel.
"We weren't fighting," Lois denied, demurely.
Clark arched his eyebrows at her and pursed his lips.
"Well, not much," she continued, slightly chastened.
"Okay, Lane. Lets not break rocks over this," Okuda sighed in resignation. "What do you want?"
"Has LexCorp purchased any Tenralk holdings in the last few years, or vice-versa?" Clark asked casually, forcing Okuda to swivel his chair back towards him.
"According to our research, they must have traded together," Lois quickly continued, regaining Okuda's attention. "But we're having trouble finding the details any sales."
Okuda shrugged his shoulders. "Business transactions are pretty much matters of public record," he said. "They shouldn't be too hard to find."
"Then why are we having trouble uncovering these 'matters of public record'?" Lois questioned.
"What's your angle here, Lane?" Okuda asked, crossing his arms over his barrel chest, the fabric of his shirt sleeves, seeming to strain against the man's flabby bulk.
"There's no angle," Clark stated with a shrug. "We're just padding up on the business profiles we're working on. And given the depth of your business knowledge, I'm pretty sure you can tell us what we've been missing here."
Kim Okuda nodded his head slightly and smiled, acknowledging the compliment. Slowly he uncrossed his arms and swivelled his chair around to face the monitor on his desk. "It's all about knowing where to look," he said smugly, before taking a couple of minutes to access some files on his computer.
"Somebody man that printer," Kim said, pointing to its location a few feet away.
Lois quickly made her way from Kim's desk to the machine, the familiar whir and stuttering that the printer made, just before spilling out its secrets, hurrying her footsteps all the more.
She returned to Okuda's desk in twice the time it took her to leave it, her eyes focusing on the printouts of the scanned business documents she was holding. She stopped next to Clark, handing over the first page to him, while she continued to scrutinise the rest of the material.
"Meehan Labs?" she asked eventually, her head coming up and tilting towards Okuda in inquiry.
"It's a small, experimental technologies, company," Kim answered. "Purchased by Tenralk Oil about three years ago," he concluded, as if that was all he needed to say.
Lois shook her head in confusion, snatching back the page from Clark before re-reading the entire document.
"Wait a minute," she said, her head eventually snapping up to spear Okuda with a blazing glare. "Tess Carmichael authorised and signed off on this sale?"
"That's what it says," Okuda confirmed.
"So, Meehan Labs was her property?" Lois asked, tentatively.
Okuda smiled ruefully at the pair before him. "I thought you guys wrote the book on the Luthor's," he said through a smug grin.
"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Clark said, as a dawning kind of knowledge began to creep into his voice, raising it slightly. "Meehan Labs. Meehan. I know that name….
Lois watched her husband with interest, watching him focusing inward in an attempt to dredge up whatever it was he thought he knew. Her own mind was racing around the facts of the documents; trying to see the bigger picture; trying to breakdown the document into blocks of relevance.
Meehan Labs was a small, insignificant company, making losses for years before being sold to Tenralk Oil, three years ago.
Tess Carmichael had authorised the sale, but she didn't own the company.
Lois looked through the document again, what was she missing? There!
The second signature authorising the sale of Meehan Labs was of a Fred Bentley.
She smiled inwardly. Fred Bentley—
"Got it!" Clark burst out excitedly, interrupting Lois' train of thought. "Meehan was the last name of Lionel Luthor's mother," he said triumphantly.
"And Fred Bentley," Lois said, pointing to the bottom of one of the pages she held, her tone echoing Clark's excitement, "is a LexCorp board member!"
"Don't get too excited," Okuda warned in a cynical, but patient tone; as if he were trying to temper the excitement of over-eager school kids who'd thought they'd discovered a dinosaur fossil--only to reveal it was a discarded chicken bone.
"Meehan Labs was just an obscure arm of a Luthor subsidiary," he explained.
"Tenralk Oil were looking for U.S. refining facilities at the time, and a loss maker like Meehan Labs fit the bill for one purpose only: it had the square footage Tenralk needed for its processing plant.
"Don't forget that Tenralk made the purchase during a financial credit-crunch," Kim continued. "So their priorities were on developing premises that already met HAZMAT codes and didn't need any significant re-modelling or refurbishment.
"Tenralk's offer for Meehan Labs didn't exactly make a fortune for LexCorp, but with the losses they were making on it, they both got they wanted: a cheap purchase for Tenralk, and a loss making product off of LexCorp's books, the entire deal was no brainer," Kim concluded with a shrug.
Lois and Clark exchanged satisfied smiles and nodded in agreement at Okuda's explanation.
"Thanks, Kim," Clark said, giving the man's shoulder a friendly pat.
"Yeah, first round's on me at Oscar's tonight, okay?" Lois offered, grabbing Clark by the arm and pulling him with her as she walked backwards towards her own desk.
"Sure thing, Lois. I'll come find you guys when I'm ready to leave," Kim promised, waving them off with a smile and a shake of his head.
"Nice save," Lois whispered, so that only Clark could here, as they made their way across the busy newsroom to their desks. "The impromptu double team really worked," she grinned. "Kim normally clams right up when I try to get something out of him on my own. How come you can people to open up so easily?" she asked in genuine admiration.
"It's simple really, Lois. People actually like me," he said with a wink.
"Ha, ha, Smallville," she deadpanned and punched his bicep before returning to a more serious, whispered tone. "How did you know I was looking at a link between Luthor and Tenralk?"
"You had your research notes practically spread out all over the apartment when I got home last night. It was hard to miss," Clark answered, bumping her shoulder lightly as they walked. "Besides," he went on with a grin. "I like saving you."
Lois rolled her eyes at his response, but couldn't help the smile that had her lips twisting into a crooked smirk. "Good thing, too, but it's not as if I don't save your butt often enough," she pretended to grouse.
Clark turned his head to look at her and licked his lips. "You can save me anytime."
Lois gaped at him, before recovering to hit his bicep again. It never failed to shock, amuse and arouse her when Clark slipped a double entendre into a conversation between them. She shook her head in amusement; clearly she was a bad influence on him.
"Did you buy that story?" she whispered, once she'd regained her composure fully. "About Tenralk needing a refinery?"
"It tracks with what we know about the company, but …" Clark trailed off.
"What?"
"Well, the Luthor's aren't exactly known for their familial bonds," he said thoughtfully. "But selling off a company, however poorly it was doing, that was named for his grandmother … I don't know," Clark shrugged, still in thought.
"You think maybe Tess sold it, and Lex doesn't even know?" Lois speculated.
"Maybe. Worth checking out?"
Lois nodded vigorously. "Oh, yeah!"
-8-
She pulled their car up to the security gates of the former Meehan Labs, now, apparently, just another of Tenralk Oil's U.S. based refinery's.
"Lois," Clark hissed in a warning tone, as he watched her wind down her window, on the driver's side, to speak to one of the two security guards eyeing them suspiciously.
"Don't sweat it, Smallville, just follow my lead," she returned confidently.
"That's what I'm afraid of," Clark mumbled, releasing his seat belt to lean further forward.
The drive up through the city to its northern, leafier, outskirts had only taken them a little under an hour against the early lunchtime traffic. That and Lois drove like a maniac sometimes. The refinery was located off the old Metropolis North Road highway among a swathe of industrial estates that had seen varying degrees of success over the last few years, since the on-set of the last credit crunch.
"Lois Lane and Clark Kent, Daily Planet," Lois said, holding up her press pass badge for the security officer and indicating Clark with a jerk of her thumb. "We're here to talk to the plant manager," she demanded nonchalantly.
Clark watched as the two armed guards, dressed in dark uniforms, manning the gate exchanged a dubious look before one of them turned away and entered the small booth they obviously shared, set-up as a checkpoint for the facility's main gate. He picked up a clipboard and began to scan it before removing a hand-held receiver from the belt at his hip.
Lois smiled inanely at the guard who continued to keep watch over them. His stare wore the look of man interested in nothing more than hearing that his shift had finally ended.
The sounds of a muted rock chorus coming out of nowhere interrupted the silence. Lois quickly dug around in her purse as the strains of Whitesnake's "Here I go again," increased in volume. She finally pulled her cell phone free and answered the call.
"Yes. This is Lois Lane. Jamahl! Great, just gimme a sec ..." she said, getting out of the car.
"Hold it, lady," the guard watching over them intoned, holding up a stalling hand.
"Bite me, buster, I'm on a call, and I need better reception." Lois didn't give the guard a second look as she wondered around the industrial site's bleak, cracked concrete grounds, attempting to clean up the line for the incoming call.
Clark slowly exited the passenger side of the car. "I need to stretch my legs."
He walked back and forth along the perimeter of the fence line, appearing to stretch his back and legs as he walked. He briefly removed his glasses and ran a hand through his tousled hair. "It sure is getting hotter, huh?" he sighed, loosening his tie and adjusting his shirt collar.
"You guys don't have an appointment," the first guard spoke up, coming out of the checkpoint booth.
Clark checked Lois' position. She had wondered off back towards the highway and appeared to be deep in conversation.
"We didn't know we needed one," Clark responded, pulling a brochure out of his suit jacket. "It says here that tours of the plant are available to the public Monday through Friday." He adjusted his glasses and handed the brochure over to the guard standing closest to him.
The guard at the booth came over to scrutinise the glossy handout. "That thing's out of date."
"The press have a right know if your plant's meeting national and international safety standards, sir. We have a right to be here."
"And in the words of your lady friend over there, four eyes, 'bite me'," the irate guard replied.
Lois meanwhile was deep in discussion with Jimmy's contact in Paris, Jamahl Christie. He'd supplied a source for the Tenralk picture but her follow up questions had only succeeded in deepening the mystery surrounding the man.
According to Jamahl, a Russian business periodical had printed a two-part article on Tenralk Oil, some months after a fatal car crash in 2008 that had resulted in the death of the oil billionaire's partner, Oleg Kishinevsky, and that had left Tenralk himself with, what had been reported at the time as, "horrific injuries".
This much Lois was already aware of from her own research, what she hadn't come across before though was what had turned up as part of the second instalment of the article: a short interview with Tenralk's twin brother, Andriy.
Lois wasn't even aware that Tenralk had a twin.
The periodical's short Q and A with Andriy Tenralk had obviously been in place of an interview from the man himself, who'd now gone into a self imposed exile, as he continued to "recover from his injuries."
In the interview Andriy had admitted to a sense of frustration, complaining bitterly of being kept away from his brother and not being allowed to see or speak to him in the months following the fatal accident. He'd gone on to claim that on the one occasion that he had been allowed to visit, his brother had been uncommunicative, was physically un-recognisable and acting strangely.
"Is there any way for Andriy to be contacted? I'd really like to talk to him, if I could," Lois had questioned down the phone.
"I thought you might ask that," Jamahl supplied, sagely.
"So, what have you got?"
"Andriy Tenralk was killed in a hunting accident, four weeks after that interview was published."
Lois' shoulders had slumped. "You're kidding me, right?"
"Nope. Sorry, Miss Lane."
"Unbelievable," she'd breathed. "Look, can you send me what you've got? I'll send you my email address."
"Sure, no problem."
"Thanks for calling."
"Any friend of Jimmy's …" Jamahl responded amiably down the crackling line. "I only wish I'd had better news for you, Miss Lane. Bye."
"Yeah," Lois said in farewell.
This whole Tenralk debacle was getting beyond ridiculous. How many brick walls and dead-ends could one man put up, she wondered in frustration, and why?
"Crap!" she gritted out moments later, slamming her phone shut and stomping back to the gate, cursing all the way.
Three heads turned her way as she noisily approached.
"What?" she challenged petulantly. "Open the gate already, time's a wasting."
"They're saying they have a policy change, Lois. We can't get in without an appointment," Clark supplied helpfully.
Lois cast her indignant ire towards the two guards. She shook her head brazenly. "Yeah, right," she drawled out sarcastically.
The two guards reached up as one, swinging pump-action shotguns from out harnesses attached to their backs, taking aim at the journalistic duo.
"Good point, well made, gentlemen," Clark squeaked, sounding suitably impressed. "Come on, Lois. Lets go," he said, climbing back into their car.
"You guys don't scare me," Lois sniffed, flexing her arm and neck muscles.
"Lois," Clark called darkly.
"Fine," she huffed, opening the car door and sliding in. She started the engine, clicked her seat belt into place and put the car in reverse. "Consider yourselves lucky," she spat at the guards, before sliding her window back up. Speeding the vehicle up and executing a perfect doughnut over the tarmac, Lois and Clark raced off the plant's grounds.
"Not a great afternoon," Lois muttered from the wheel of their SUV, as she began to fill Clark in on her conversation with Jimmy's friend in Paris. "This day's been a total bust," she concluded.
"Not entirely," Clark said, looking over at her from the passenger side.
"Oh?"
"I scanned the area around the fence line, leading up to the south side of the plant," he explained.
"Okay. And?" Lois prompted impatiently.
"For an oil refinery, they sure stock a lot of green compounds."
Lois slammed the brakes down on the car. "Green … meteor rocks?" she asked incredulously.
Clark met her wide-eyed stare with a gentle nod. "I think so."
"Clark, this is serious. What do you mean; you think so? Is it Kryptonite or not?" she pleaded.
He nodded slowly. "I couldn't see what they were doing exactly, but they're definitely refining Kryptonite in there, Lois."
She gripped the steering wheel tightly and fought to control her rising anger.
Clark reached over and gently placed his left hand over her right. He soothingly rubbed his thumb against her white-knuckled grip. "It's okay," he soothed. "Tenralk wouldn't be the first company to use Kryptonite in a consumer product. Most of them harmless to the general population," he reasoned.
He could feel Lois' disapproving stare boring right into his skull.
"We'll be okay, Lois," he tried to assure her again, not sounding nearly confident enough to his own ears. "We'll be okay."
-8-
Lois remained in a bad mood for the rest of the day, following the phone call from Paris and their not so successful visit to the former site of Meehan Labs.
Clark had tried his best to distract her from her dark mood, while not sneaking away from the office to answer calls for help.
"I need a drink," Lois groused from behind her monitor. She sat back in her chair to peering at her husband typing away on the other side of their adjoining desks. "It's been a really long, horrible day, Clark," she complained.
He certainly couldn't disagree with that assessment. He nodded. "Yeah. Want to get dinner at Oscar's?" Clark asked, beginning the log out procedure on his computer.
"Definitely," Lois sighed. She'd already shut off her own PC and reached into a desk drawer to retrieve her purse and messenger bag. "I just want to down a couple of brews and put this day to bed."
Lois grabbed her jacket from behind her chair and shrugged into it. She spotted Kim Okuda talking to Bob Fisk from sports on the other side of the bullpen, looking like they were getting ready to leave, but something on the overhead monitors had attracted their attention.
"Hey, Kim," she called out. "We're heading to Oscar's; you guys coming?"
Kim nodded enthusiastically back at her. "We'll see you guys there in a minute," he said, turning back to the monitor. "I just want to see this breaking story," he called.
"Breaking story--Clark, can you turn that up?" Lois asked, tilting her head towards the bank of overhead monitors closest to their desks.
Clark did as he was asked then stepped back to view the LNN breaking story.
"… And just to go back to the news that's still coming in; we're receiving reports tonight, that there has been a series of gas pipeline ruptures in a remote part of Siberia, Russia. We don't know if there are any casualties as of yet, but if the reports are true, then we could be looking at an ecological disaster for the Russian Federation, with longer term effects felt here, in the West.
"It is also being reported that because of the terrain and the pipelines remote location, it could take specialist emergency crews hours to arrive at the scene of the suspected ruptures."
Clark locked eyes with Lois. Their communion silent, but heartfelt; he had to go.
She approached him in three quick strides, pressing her left hand against his chest, stroking over his heart gently, before withdrawing it. Clark caught her hand as she began pulling it back from him. He gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze before letting them go.
"Be careful," Lois mouthed to him silently.
He gave her a determined nod before backing away from her, moving towards the exit.
Clark was already gone when pandemonium erupted across the bullpen moments later.
"Who have we got in Europe?" Perry White bellowed from his opened office door. "We need someone on this Russian pipeline story, pronto!"
"Ron and Jimmy are in Brussels, Chief," Lois supplied.
"Walter Logon's in our St Petersburg bureau," replied another reporter.
"Fine. Knox," Perry called out to his assistant come-gopher. "Get Ron and Walter on the line, I need them in that hot zone like it was yesterday, understand?"
"Got it, Mr. White."
"And make sure Ron takes Jimmy. I need pictures!"
"Yes, Chief."
"I need projections on what these exploding pipes mean for the Russian economy. What are the rest of Europe gonna use for fuel? How much gas does Russia have, and when is it due to run out? How much is this mess gonna cost, and whose going to clean it up?"
"I'm on it, Chief," called Okuda, stripping off his jacket and taking a seat at his desk.
"Let's hustle people--move!"
"Umm, Mr. White?" Sandy Knox asked, while scribbling furiously onto a note pad. "What about transport? For Ron and Jimmy, I mean? Commercial transportation won't get them anywhere near the danger zone, sir."
"Hmm." Perry paused to think.
"Leave it to me, Chief," Lois called out as she picked up the nearest phone and began to dial. "The General's in D.C. but I know a couple of officers in Germany who can help our guys re transport."
"Hold your horses there, Lane. You're not the only one with contacts you, know," Perry harrumphed. "I'll call my old friend, Catfish, in the Air force, he owes me a few favours."
"If you're sure?" Lois asked, waving the receiver in her hand.
"Yeah, I've got this one. Hey, where's Kent?" he asked suddenly. "I want him to give me something from the human angle; communities affected and what not."
"He had to fly, Chief. He had a meeting with a source," Lois explained.
Well, it wasn't a complete lie.
Perry White shook his head in dismay, calling another reporter to his side, before returning to his office.
"Lois," Kim Okuda called out to her. "You're up to speed on some of this, and I could really use your help on some background for the pipeline owners."
"We sharing the by-line?" she asked automatically.
"You bet."
"Then lets see what you got," she said, removing her jacket and purse from her shoulders.
The beer with her name on it, waiting patiently for her at Oscar's was going to have to wait a while. Getting something out for the early editions of tomorrow's paper took precedence right now, and as usual, she needed to be in the thick of it.
Lois looked up and checked the time; the numerous clocks on the wall of the bullpen were set to each time zone around the world.
In Metropolis the time was now 19:41 PM. In the disaster zone, where Clark was headed, the time was approximately thirteen hours ahead--already tomorrow.
She voiced a silent prayer for her husband's safe homecoming before returning her attention to the hive of activity quickly spreading throughout the newsroom.
What Lois Lane, the reporter didn't know; what Lois Lane-Kent, wife of Clark Kent aka Superman couldn't know, was that the operation known as Phase 3 was already well under way.
-8-
… To be continued …
To all of you who have been waiting patiently for an update, please accept my deepest apologise, for the delay in getting this chapter out to you. Real life has once again been kicking my butt, but I've managed to claw my way through it, and hope that you all enjoy the latest instalment.
I will do my best not to take so long in posting the next chapter.
It really does me good to hear from you, so please don't forget to leave feedback if you're enjoying the story, or have a constructive criticism. I welcome your views, and let's face it; it's the only way I'll know if my efforts have been worthwhile.