Chapter 12
Chloe and Clark made the drive to Metropolis in near silence. Chloe was already nervous about the impending super-bomb she was going to drop on Clark sometime soon. Add to it the pressure of her impromptu grant candidacy meeting and the tenterhooks she was hanging by with some of the Leaguers in Russia, she was rendered nearly incapable of speech. Scenery flashed by as Chloe fidgeted with the thick booklet containing the company's by-laws, along with the two page mission statement she was asked to bring. Sighing for about the sixth time, Chloe relaxed her eyes and just let the fields outside of the window become one long, passing golden river.
Clark sat next her, the wheel gripped loosely between his fingers. She'd insisted they drive, giving her ample time to rehearse any speech she may be called upon to give. He glanced over at her. The weight was back. Whatever Clark thought Chloe had shed last night was back and sitting on her shoulders again. Was it as simple as Lex Luthor was again a free but wanted man? Was it the face to face meeting she'd had with Mickler? Or was it something more? Clark hoped she would talk to him today. It was the biggest reason he'd agreed to this snail travel instead of flying them both to Metropolis in three minutes or less. But all she did was stare out the window. And Clark refused to push her. She would come to him in her own time.
It was obvious now that 'Chlollie', as the gossip pages had christened the Metropolis' very own 'Brangelina', had run aground. The question was, what was he going to do with it? He had two options. He could tell her where he stood. Clark knew Chloe was the end for him. There would never be anyone else but her. Or he could just walk away. It would depend on what she wanted. He would love Connor and Kaid like his own, too, in case that was a concern for her. Clark would do anything, whatever she wanted, just to be with her. The fact was, though, that she still jumped Oliver's bones two seconds after the door shut behind him. And as many times as he said it hardly bothered him anymore, it did. He still wanted answers, but today was not the day for questions.
Minutes ticked by until finally the Metropolis skyline began to appear in front of them. Clark drove Chloe's SUV right into the heart of downtown, taking a left onto Metropolis Avenue and circling the block to pull into the Daily Planet parking garage.
"Crap," Clark muttered.
"What?" Chloe asked.
"I don't have a parking pass. I don't normally drive to work."
"Oh, that," Chloe replied, waving her hand. She opened her glove box and pulled out a Daily Planet placard that she hung from the rear-view mirror. The security guard manning the booth waved them through. "One of the perks of knowing the owner."
Clark couldn't help the small grin that formed when Chloe said 'knowing' instead of 'dating'. If we can just get through these next couple of days, Clark thought as he pulled into a parking space on the third level. He stepped out of the vehicle, reaching back in to take Chloe's things from her as she got out, too. Clark walked around the end of the car, meeting Chloe on her side. "So, where to?"
"You," Chloe began, taking her things from Clark before he could protest. "Are going in to work on whatever you have to do while I go to meet Mr. Parker and I'll meet you back here when I'm done."
"Chloe, I'm walking over there with you. I'm going to sit with you until you go into that meeting and then I'll come here. You'll call me when your done and I will come and get you."
"Clark, it's November the 1st. All Saints Day on a Sunday. If there was one day where no one had anything heinous planned, it would be today. I'll be fine."
"Chloe-"
"Please, Clark," Chloe stopped him. "Don't make me feel helpless. I already cut myself out of the Russia trip, letting Victor play Watchtower. If something seems weird, I'll call."
"On the phone?"
"No, I'll call you. I know you'll keep an ear out for me. You always do." And with a smile, Chloe pranced away from him, leaving him standing and staring after her.
The doors to the American Title & Shares building on Buchanan, where Collin Parker's office was located, were locked. Chloe pulled and rattled until an elderly maintenence man waddled over.
"Sorry, miss, but building's closed today," the bulldog face told her.
"That can't be right. I have a meeting with Mr. Collin Parker," Chloe replied.
"No ma'am, 'fraid you're mistaken. Just me and a couple of other janitors. None of the business folk is here."
"Could you check, please? I had a call from his secretary this morning requesting a meeting. It's very important," Chloe pleaded.
With a huff and then a kind smile, the man pulled a walkie-talkie from his tool belt and radioed someone named Stevens. Chloe waited five minutes for Stevens to go check the floor Collin Parker's office was on.
"No one here, Doyle. Shut down and locked up," the voice crackled over the line.
Chloe's face fell. The man named Davis looked at her with a sad expression. "Sorry, miss."
"Thank you for your help. Maybe I have the date wrong or something. I'm sorry to have bothered you," Chloe replied.
"No problem, young lady. You have a nice day." Bulldog Doyle allowed the glass door to shut, locking it tight with his ring of keys.
Chloe walked along the nearly deserted sidewalk. Janice Boroughs had said this afternoon, at three o'clock. Chloe realized the woman had never said where, though. Maybe she was at the wrong place. If Chloe remembered correctly, sometimes Collin Parker hosted meetings in his loft in the art district. It would make sense for him to hold his meetings there, especially on a Sunday. She quickened her steps toward Isis. She'd been hoping to avoid a visit to her office today, but she was sure she had Janice's number in her rolodex on her desk, so to her office she would go. She would simply call her and find out.
Rounding the corner, Chloe made the eight block distance between Buchanan and Lady Scots, the street where Isis resided, in less than ten minutes, thanks to the light walking and car traffic on Sunday. The double doors to Isis were unlocked due to the emergency counseling services it provided on the weekends. Isis' doors only closed at ten o'clock, or when the last counselor went home. Chloe waved to the one security guard they scheduled on the weekends. His name was Doug Weimar, a man of medium height and build,who usually worked nights.
"Hi, Doug. How are you today?" Chloe asked as she stopped for a second.
"Good, Ms. Sullivan. What are you doing in today?" Doug asked. He was middle aged, with sandy brown hair and had once asked Chloe out when she'd been leaving late one night a few months before she began dating Oliver. Chloe had declined and Doug had accepted graciously, but Chloe always had a strange feeling he still held it against her.
"Just needed to get something from my office. Who's all here?" Chloe began to walk, as Doug stood to accompany her over to the elevator.
"The normal weekend crowd. We were all sorry to hear about Jillian," Doug said, pressing the up button for her.
"Thanks, Doug. It was horrible. She was such a sweet girl," Chloe replied quietly.
"Do the police have any leads on who did it?"
"Not that I know of." The elevator door opened and Chloe stepped in. "See ya, Doug."
Doug lifted a hand and smiled as the doors closed. Chloe shivered once out of sight. Sometimes he gave her the chills.
"Have you been here all night, Lois?" Clark asked, spying the tall woman, still dressed in her Red Riding Hood costume, minus the red riding hood, hunkered over her desk, typing feverishly. Her desk was littered with candy bar wrappers and Red Bull cans. Clark listened to her heart pumping along at an elevated rate, probably due to the number of energy drinks she'd consumed since last night.
"As a matter of fact, I was, Smallville," Lois sneered, sitting up straight and blinking at him rapidly. "While you were off saving the world, I was doing my part, too. Only I was writing the story of a lifetime that will never be published!"
"Come on, Lois," Clark said, sitting in his chair right across from her. "Oliver will lift the gag-order as soon as the team is back from Russia."
"Oh, so it's 'the team' is it?" Lois snarled as she popped the top on another Red Bull can.
"Please tell you are not still sore about last night," Clark replied, opening his email.
"No," Lois muttered, telling Clark she actually still was. "But Oliver could have used my help, too. I'm probably more useful than you are, which brings me to my next point of what do you do that got you inducted into the Justice League? The only super thing I've ever seen you do is lift a heavy hay bale and I don't think Oliver sees much hay in his line of work."
"If Oliver wanted you to know, he would have told you," Clark snapped, closing the subject, hoping that the other two people in the room had not overheard Lois' tirade.
Lois looked at him for a few seconds, her face hard. Then she shook it off. "Fine, but I know you're hiding something, Clark. And I don't like it, but I'll let you and Ollie have your little secret. As long as it doesn't put my baby cousin on the line I'm fine with it."
Clark squirmed slightly. The Blue Kryptonite bracelet was his. Why Chloe had been wearing it out in public he didn't know. It wasn't directly his fault, but Clark had a over-active guilt mechanism. Shaking his head, he returned to his work.
"Don't you want to know?"
Clark leaned to the side and looked at Lois. Her annoyance with him was gone, replaced by a shining excitement in her eyes. She was bursting at the seams to tell him something. She switched so often from barely standing him to being one of his best friends, it was hard to keep track of Lois' roller-coaster personality. "Do I want to know what, Lois?"
"How he did it," she said vaguely.
"How who did what?"
"How Lex broke out of prison."
Clark narrowed his eyes. "You know how Lex did it?"
Lois sat back in her chair with a satisfied smile. "I do."
"Lois," Clark growled. "I'm not in the mood to play twenty questions with you."
"He walked out."
"He just. . . walked out?"
"Yep," Lois replied, crossing her legs. "Oliver asked me to drum up everything and anything I could find on our resident phoney Psychiatrist, Dr. Mickler. Seems Dr. Mickler has been playing doctor with none other than Lex Luthor for the past four and half years he's been incarcerated."
Clark already knew this, but he didn't want to distract Lois into another foray as to why he was a part of Oliver's League, so he just nodded.
"Two or three days ago, Mickler diagnosed Lex with Hypomania Bipolar Disorder and deemed him mentally incompetent to remain in prison. Mickler went before the medical board of the Kansas State Penitentiary and asked for Lex to be transfered to Belle Reve so he could be institutionalized and serve his prison sentence there, under Dr. Mickler's care."
"But Mickler is not a real psychiatrist and he doesn't work at Belle Reve. How was even able to get a meeting with the Penitentiary Medical Board?" Clark asked.
"False documents, Clark!" Lois exclaimed.
"The state checks, Lois. They call and follow up before looking into any request a doctor hands in for a patient. They also have their own physician at the prison examine the inmate," Clark told her.
"And how do you know all this?"
"A story I did when Chloe and I were in high school," Clark explained. For two or three months after Lionel went to prison, Clark had an irrational fear Lionel would break out or somehow get his sentence overturned on a mental illness rap and come after Chloe again. Clark did hours on top hours of research until Chloe finally laid a hand on top of his head after he'd fallen asleep in front of his computer in the Torch, waking him up.
"Let's go home, Clark," Chloe said softly and then she saw the computer screen. Clark blushed a pale pink as he explained and received a tender smile from his best friend. "I have it on good authority my friend Clark Kent, won't let him get a second chance. Now, either take me home or get me a recharge of caffeine because my battery is fixing to die!"
"Well, anyway," Lois started again. "It doesn't matter how it was done, Clark, the point it it was done. Lex got put in for a transfer to Belle Reve and it was granted."
"So how did he miss the off ramp to Belle Reve from the prison?" Clark asked, leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands in his lap.
"I have a source in Belle Reve. He owes me a couple of favors for hushing up some extra-marital activities he participated in. It seems that the van sent to retrieve Lex arrived at the Kansas State Penitentiary as scheduled and dropped the patient off as scheduled at Belle Reve. Lex was admitted and then deposited in his cell-"
"Wait, how did Mickler even get Lex a place at Belle Reve? He doesn't work there!" Clark pointed out.
"Back in the late 80's, Luthorcorp and Belle Reve partnered on this experimental drug. Mickler was the head scientist working on the project. The drug was discontinued a few years later, citing unmanageable tremors and organ infection but in his time there, Mickler made a few friends. My source doesn't know for sure, but he thinks one of the head doctors forged Mickler's documents for him."
"OK, so Lex made it into a cell and then what? Tunneled his way out in a straight jacket?"
"If you'll let me finish," Lois snapped. "The orderly who admitted Lex and placed him in his cell was also the driver of the van. He said on their way, Lex became quite violent and somehow took a chunk out of his partner's hand. With his teeth. So they had to go all Silence of the Lambs on him. He had a muzzle on, Clark."
"It wasn't Lex," Clark said, Lois' meaning dawning on him.
Lois smiled, almost looking like a proud teacher. "After they sedated him and took the leather muzzle off, it turned out to be one of the security guards they sent with the orderlies to pick Lex up. By that time, the van was gone with no trace of Lex."
"What did the security guard say? What happened?"
"He says he was overpowered. The orderly knocked him out and when he woke up next he was muzzled and Lex was sitting in the driver seat wearing his uniform. And the same thought crossed my mind that I'm sure is running through yours right now. How did they mistake a sandy haired man for the shiny cue ball of Lex Luthor? He had on a hooded jacket, a caution against paparazzi who got wind of the transfer and wanted to make a couple of bucks."
"We need to talk to this guy, Lois. See if he knows anything," Clark told her as he stood. "What's his name and address? He may have heard something."
"Hold up there, Sherlock. I've already checked him out. It seems the name and information he gave to the police were fake. When I called the security firm that Belle Reve contracts with, they told me Belle Reve hadn't called for any additional security to be sent over yesterday," Lois responded with disappointment.
"This guy was in on it. Do you have anything? A real name? A birthdate?"
"No, but I do have a picture of him my source sent over from Belle Reve," Lois answered as she jumped up and grabbed a sheet of paper from the corner of her desk.
Lois met him at the end of their pushed together desks. "This is the guy," she sighed, handing the photo over to Clark.
Clark knew from Chloe's frightening stint in the mental hospital that Belle Reve monitored all their high risk patients through an unobtrusive camera in the corner. Clark focused on the guy's face. It was a grainy screen shot but it was pretty clear.
"You know, if this guy did work at Reynold's Security, we could fax over the photo and maybe they could. . ." Lois' voice faded from Clark's consciousness as a memory came over him.
He was hurrying to Isis after Chloe called. The door had been thrown open by an middle aged man with sandy hair and somewhat shorter than Clark, dressed in a security guard uniform.
"Good afternoon, sir," the man said. Clark looked over and nodded, not paying him any attention as he caught sight of all the other expensively clothed men in black suits strategically placed around the lobby. His name tag read. . .
The name was right there. "We don't have to check with the security firm, Lois."
"Why not? Clark, if he's a fake then-"
"He's not," Clark said, tossing the picture back to her and going to his computer, quickly bringing up Reynold's Security Web Page.
"What are you doing?" Lois asked as she leaned over his shoulder, craning her neck to see around him.
"If you use your Web Page to garner new business, you're always going list the biggest names you've done business with, right?"
"Sounds like a good plan. Where is this going?"
"Right there," Clark crowed, pointing to two words in the middle of an alphabetical list of all the companies Reynold's serviced.
"Isis Foundation," Lois whispered. She swallowed as she looked over at Clark.
"I've seen this guy before," Clark told her, grabbing the picture out of Lois' limp hands. "He was at Isis the day Chloe received the flowers with Jillian's murder weapon inside. His name is Doug."
"Thank you, Mrs. Boroughs. I'm truly sorry to have bothered you at home," Chloe apologized.
"Well," the woman sniffed. "I am, too. But when my answering service told me who it was, I had no other choice but to speak with you. Mr. Collins will not be making any decision until after the New Year. I don't know who called you this morning, Ms. Sullivan, but it certainly wasn't me."
"Again, I am sorry."
"Don't worry," the woman relented nicely. "I do know how important this grant is to you. I'm sorry you had to come in on a Sunday because of someone's ill mannered prank. Have a good day."
"You, too."
Chloe hung up the phone. Her brows met in confusion. Picking up the phone again, she dialed the farm. It rang and rang until kicking over to the answering machine. Trying to mentally slow her pulse, Chloe dialed Martha's cell phone. She breathed a sigh of relief when the woman answered.
"Hey, are you at the house?" Chloe asked.
"No. AC and I took the boys for some ice cream. Do we need to head home?"
"No!" Chloe exclaimed.
"Chloe, is everything all right?"
"I don't know. My meeting seems to have been a hoax. I'm heading back over to Clark now. Could you do me a favor and stay put until Clark and I get there? I am now officially unnerved."
"Sure. Will you be traveling by air or ground?" Martha asked coyly.
"Whichever Clark sees fit. Be there in a couple of minutes." Chloe hung up the phone again only to pick it up once more.
There was no dial tone. Chloe hit the lever a couple of times. Nothing happened. Cradling the phone, Chloe reached inside her purse and pulled out her cell phone. She hit one of her speed dial buttons but the screen blinked at her, reading 'No Service'. Chloe frowned again. She always had reception in her office. Tossing the phone back in her purse, Chloe stood and slung the bag over her shoulder. She started to get the feeling this was all an elaborate ruse to get her out of the house. But what about Martha and AC and the boys? Were they supposed to leave the house, too, or had that just been a happy coincidence?
Chloe locked her office doors and went to wait for the elevator. There was only one elevator that led to her office and she tapped her foot impatiently as it groaned it's way up to her. The doors finally opened and Chloe stepped inside. She pressed the L button and the dug out her cell again. Still no service.
"Damn it," Chloe muttered, throwing it back into her bag. She lifted her head and looked at her reflection in the mirror-like doors. That's when she saw it. Chloe's fists tightened as she stepped over and yanked off a large, folded over piece of paper taped to one of the doors. She opened it, fighting the bile rising in her throat. In neat, purple script, she read her death sentence.
You were warned.
Chloe looked up and around, finally seeing a small, blinking light in the upper corner where the camera should be. She knew she'd never be able to reach it. She didn't even know if she wanted to. The last time she was in an elevator with a bomb, it had been a brightly wrapped package of pliable C4. This looked to be a series of charges set around the top perimeter of the elevator. Chloe swallowed.
"You really want me dead, don't you, Lex?" Chloe bit out. "Why?!" She screamed. All of a sudden, the elevator screeched to a stop and the lights flickered out. Would she have enough time to call for Clark before she got blown to bits? Would he even hear her? In the dark, a stop-watch blinked on, illuminating along the bottom of the trigger point in red.
2:17 blinked at her, counting down by the second. Even in a minute and some seconds, Clark would never reach her. It was up to Chloe to save herself. And if not, she'd go down with a fight. Chloe looked up. She had just enough light to make out the emergency trapdoor in top of the car. Positioning herself under it, she stood up on her tiptoes. Even in her normal three inch heels, she was still missing crucial inches.
2:09. Chloe jumped, her fingers barely brushing the hatch.
2:05. Chloe felt around for the hand rail, which stuck out about half a foot from the wall. Bringing up one leg, she balanced a toe on the rail before bracing her hands on the smooth walls, praying this would work. Chloe pushed upward with a grimace. Somehow, she wedged her foot between the wall and the rail. She brought the other one up, balancing precariously as she tried again to reach her escape route.
0:58. With pounding fists, Chloe beat the hatch upward until with a screech it finally gave way. Balancing again on her toes, Chloe grabbed hold of the rim and pulled herself over. With a yelp, she pulled herself upward, gritting her teeth until she was sure she tasted blood. Finally, Chloe hooked a leg up and pulled herself the rest of the way. She looked around as she stood, seeing the elevator was still stationary in the shaft.
"What are you going to do now?" Chloe asked herself. There was a beep. And then another beep. Chloe grasped the thick steel cable as a final beep sounded. Gripping the cable and ignoring the way it bit into her soft hands, Chloe wrapped her legs around and began to pull herself away as fast a she could. Chloe could feel the cable begin to vibrate as the charges went off, powerful enough to ring in her ears and chatter her teeth. She thought of Connor and Kaid as the cable shook with the explosions she felt beneath her, their little faces causing her to pull harder, push harder. Looking down, she saw she was at least a good foot away. There was a bright flash and Chloe buried her face against her arm, sobbing.
Suddenly, there was silence. Chloe peeked over. And just as suddenly, there was a great twisting sound and Chloe watched in horror as the car separated away from the roof and fell with ever-gaining speed to the depths below, sparks bouncing around the walls as it went. She heard it hit the ground with a resounding crash.
"Oh, God. . ." Chloe cried as she swung dangerously on the cable. She clung the thick robe of steel between her thighs, locking her ankles together for more support, finally thankful for all the survival training she'd gone through with Oliver. Her hands were becoming slippery with sweat and blood and she knew it was only a matter of time before she would slide down to the roof of the elevator that was still attached, but barely. Even with her small weight it might be enough to upset the balance and she would plummet behind the elevator car to ground.
So Chloe did the only other thing she knew to do. She screamed.