Chapter 8
2016 – St. Louis
Lois Lane was suffering from a deflated ego. For the first time since she became employed, she felt like a failure. It was the same feeling she had when her father would scowl at her attempts to manage the household at 14-years-old or criticize her effort making dinner. She was angry at her boss but also angry with herself for losing control and going against the grain when told not to. She had been dwelling on it for the last four days.
Your quack sociology professor at MCCKC would say that you lost your job because you lacked enough idiosyncratic credits to allow your insubordination to be handled less severely, she thought but then quickly changed her mind. Bullshit! You were fired because you were going to expose some industrial strength corruption in this city and the friggin' Monopoly Man knew you weren't playing around. She thought about that angle and nodded. Yep, that's the real reason, she told herself.
She wondered how Billingsley found out that she was still on the case, and her first thought was that she had been followed. She imagined that Busby had dutifully informed Walter Billingsley about the story and that contrary to his directions, she was still looking into it, and Billingsley told Busby to fire her. Then Billingsley had put a tail on her that reported back to him about her visit and the amount of time she had spent with Tim Nelson. She suspected that the tail might have even had a directional microphone to monitor their conversation and knew that she planned to take it to the feds. You need to watch your six, Lois. If they were listening to your conversation with Tim, then they would know about the laptop, thumb drive, and the SD card.
She still had the evidence that Tim had given her but no more screen prints. They had been confiscated from her desk once she went to Busby's office, but the card and thumb drive were locked in her glove compartment inside of her locked car. The laptop would not fit in the glove compartment so she placed it flat on the floorboard behind the passenger seat and covered it with a floor mat. Not taking those pieces of evidence into the building was a savvy move, Lane, she reminded herself. In the process of being fired in Busby's office, her desk was no doubt being searched and if she had brought those two big pieces of evidence into the office, they would be gone now too. Which means they know you still have them.
On that note, Lois went to her window on the 6th floor of the building and looked out. Her window faced the main street that ran in front of the apartments and outside she saw buildings, people, cars. Nothing out of the ordinary. Parking was not allowed on the opposite side of the street so no one could sit and peer into her window from their car and see her unless she was standing up against it. In the summer, the trees planted along the street concealed the view from the opposite side of the street. On the apartment side of the main street, there were streetside parking spaces lined diagonally for ease of pulling in and backing out onto the road. Those parking spaces were for guests, deliveries, or prospective tenants.
Anyone watching me would be bored out of their gourd, she thought. But that did not mean she would dismiss the possibility. Stakeouts were not for enjoyment, she reminded herself, although she had never been on one. And if Billingsley knew for certain that she had more evidence, then she and her apartment were in danger of being mugged and forcibly searched, or worse. This had become way more than a kid encrypting a college database and holding it for money. This is about a level of city-wide corruption extending to the courts, the cops, and the press, and she had the evidence and expert witness to prove it, Lois thought.
Being within the city limits, the complex had a heavy 7-foot metal fence with a decorative 3-point spear tip finial topping each metal bar. There were two electronic pedestrian access points, one in the front and one on the side of the building erected in sally port fashion requiring pedestrians to close one door before the next could be opened. This double door arrangement was created as a marketing trick rather than necessitated by crime or the threat of it. But getting into the building was a challenge for non-residents, and tenants liked it that way. But like every physical security measure, it was only a deterrent, not a solution. Lois knew that these type of physical security measures could always be breached and the point of it, besides the marketing value, was to make the criminal look for an easier target. But Billingsley had the bucks to hire good thieves and they could easily overcome the security systems at this complex and get in to her apartment quickly and with hardly anyone noticing. They would be able to turn this place upside down to find…
Don't be stupid, Lois, her mind told her. Take a look around! How could you even tell if your place was ransacked? A smile came to her face. You may be a Bronze Quill award winning journalist, but girl, you're no Martha Stewart in the housekeeping department. Just keep your head on a swivel when you go out on the street and watch your six, Lois.
With the rent coming due in a little over two weeks and Lois no longer drawing a paycheck, she had to find a new job. She opened her copy of the St. Louis Daily News, disgusted having to even hold it, and turned to the classified ads. She had the money she had saved while working in Olathe, but her car was eleven years old now and she knew that she would have to replace it sooner rather than later. Having it break down on the way to her next interview or next job could be disastrous, particularly if someone was still following her.
Thankfully, there were many restaurants advertising for waitresses. She thought about the Masons and friends she had made with a lot of the clientele there. She hoped to find a job like that again. St. Louis was considerably larger than Olathe, however, and did have higher end restaurants like Kansas City had. Even in the suburbs here she could make far better money than she did in Olathe which could hold her over until she found more permanent employment.
After an hour of phone calls, she had three interviews with restaurants on the outskirts of the city and one in the downtown area that was a very high-end establishment. Lois wondered if she might bump into Billingsley there and what she might do if that happened. Maybe working there might not be a very good idea, she thought. I've already been fired once in this town; I don't need to be fired here a second time. She called the manager back and canceled her interview.
The following day, Lois headed out for her first round of interviews at restaurants. She looked around at the people and vehicles parked in front of the apartment building and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But she would try to remember the faces, just in case she saw them too often. She pulled out her phone, set it on video, and sneakily taped the cars parked in front of her apartment complex as she walked around to the side entrance to building. Lois knew there was no way to remember license plates but recording the cars that parked along the perimeter of her complex would substitute for plates. Her countersurveillance was bound to reveal anyone dumb enough to think that Lois Lane would be too oblivious of her surroundings to notice.
Between the interviews and just enjoying the weather, she had passed the better part of an entire day. The suburbs were nice and there were some areas that had really upscale restaurants that she was eyeing. A family steakhouse was at the top of her list and she had been offered the position but Lois had one more interview to attend before she felt she should give an answer accepting the position.
There was a dryness to the light breeze as the first hint of Fall came to Missouri. Still warm though, she bought an ice cream cone from a Baskin-Robbins and walked to a nearby park to eat it. She watched a group of boys playing sand lot football and some parents with preschoolers, talking while watching their children play on the jungle gyms and swings. There were a few people jogging the circumference of the park. It was nice, calming, and Lois thought that someday, if she ever met the right guy, maybe she would like to settle down and see what she had missed all those years being shipped all over the world. She was not sure she wanted children in the future but there was plenty of time for that. Maybe wait to see if you have a man in your life that you'd want to raise a kid with, she thought. Maybe a rich guy, so you don't have to be concerned with pissing off other creeps with big bucks.
She returned to her apartment complex around 6:45 PM. The sun was low on the horizon and casting long shadows. Lois made a loop around the block to see if there were any vehicles with occupants sitting in them, before pulling into the side entrance of the apartment parking. She saw a few vehicles like that, but their occupants appeared to pay no attention to her.
Like every other resident, Lois had a magnetic key card that activated a metal gate that was retracted for her to pull forward before it pulled back across the drive. Once beyond the gate, a mechanical arm rose to allow vehicles to proceed once the gate had closed behind them. With parking at a premium in the downtown city limits, the second step was not a security measure but installed after residents complained of city visitors tailgating behind them and taking up available parking spaces.
As the gate began to close behind her, she distinctly heard a car door slam from what seemed to be from some direction across the side street from which she entered the complex. She looked into her rear-view mirror and saw a glimpse of what seemed to be a male figure trying to cross the street, but the sun glared through her rear-view mirrors, and she could not see who had gotten out of the car and if he or she was coming in Lois's direction. Her blood froze.
Before the vehicle occupant could cross the street and reach the gate, it closed, and the mechanical arm lifted. Lois accelerated quickly to the opposite side of the parking lot and pulled behind the apartment building, parking in a space facing the direction from which she came. Concealed behind the building, she got out and carefully moved behind the row of cars until she could see the entrance that she had driven through. At that point, all she could see was the tail end of a dark colored Volvo accelerating from the street side parking opposite the apartment building.
I am being followed, she realized. She also realized that she had no one she could call for help. Her sources at the St. Louis PD and the Sheriff's Office would not be working at this hour of the day and now that she was no longer with the Daily News, she wondered if they would even care? The one person that could offer her advice and make calls on her behalf is the last person she wanted to talk to.
Still shaken by the potential encounter, Lois headed quickly to the elevator bank and took a car to the 6th floor. She got out and hurried to her front door, opened it, and quickly scanned the small space. It was as unkempt and disorganized as she had left it, but there was no evidence that someone had gained entry. She flipped on the light and went to the kitchen. Hot tea was what she needed to calm her nerves, but she brewed some coffee instead. She opened a package of toaster pastries and sat at the small café table where she dined and dialed the number for Sam Lane in Washington, DC.
"Lane," the gravelly voice answered.
"Hi Dad," Lois replied.
"Pumpkin," Sam's voice changed. "This is an unexpected and pleasant surprise. How are you doing?"
"Not too well, I'm afraid," she replied, wincing as she did. "I've made some enemies and lost my job in the process."
"Do you need some money?" her father asked.
"No, Dad. I need some help."
"Go on," he said.
"I'm pretty sure I'm being followed because I have some pretty significant…"
"Wait!" Sam barked, stopping her in mid-sentence. "Don't say another word. Call this number," her dad gave her a different number than what she had dialed. "When you hear the tone, dial 775349#. Write that down, Lo, 775349#. It will encrypt the call. Call me right back, okay?"
Lois did as he instructed and heard the phone dial and a ringtone. The call connected but it seemed dead at first, then a beep and her father began. "Lois, can you hear me?"
She could, but his voice sounded odd, like he was talking to her from inside a culvert. "Yes, Dad, I hear you."
"Okay, Sweetheart, tell me what's going on."
She recounted the entire story of how she pursued a story after being told to drop it, how it got her fired but not before she had collected very damaging evidence against an influential man St. Louis. She told her about her desk at work being searched, the fact that she was pretty sure she was being followed, and as corrupted as the police and courts were by this guy, she wanted his advice on how to protect herself.
They talked for nearly 15 minutes, which was about ten minutes longer than Lois could ever remember speaking to a parent after her mother died. "I know a young officer who is an Army Reserve WO2 in CID. He owes me a favor and his unit is just outside of St. Louis in Granite City, Illinois. I'll get a hold of his Commander and request a personal security detail for you until the situation is resolved."
"Really? A babysitter? C'mon, Dad."
"A babysitter with a 9mm Glock, Lois. Look, I'm in a strategic position in the Pentagon and a member of my family being threatened could compromise me in that position." She thought about it, and he was right. "What is the name of the man you have evidence on?"
"Walter Billingsley," she replied. "He apparently owns the St. Louis Daily News and other things."
"Shit," Sam hissed. "A helluva lot of other things, Pumpkin. The guy is connected and can pull strings from all directions." He paused. "You need to be certain, and you need to be careful if you plan on going after him. I sense he could bring a lot of heat down on you."
"Yeah, maybe," she replied, "but I bet he can't deploy an airborne brigade in under 12 hours from first call to boots on the ground."
"Well, you're right. That he cannot do," Sam said proudly. "And my guys can shoot a whole lot better than his." He liked the tone his daughter took. "The warrant officer's name is Adam Carr. He's a good man, Lo. He'll watch your back until the coast is clear. Before he posts, I'll have him call and meet you somewhere so you don't think he's the bad guy following you."
They spoke for another five minutes but Sam could not say much about the job he was doing, and Lois understood that. She never asked and he never offered any news about Lucy. "Bye, Dad," she said, "and thank you."
"Anything for you, Pumpkin," he said, and it even sounded sincere. What he said next stunned her. "I'm proud of you, Lois. Be careful."
"Proud of you, too, Dad. I love you," she said and hung up. I love you. Did I really say that? she thought. "Damn!" she exclaimed.
She took a hot bubble bath and had just slipped into her pajamas and had stepped into her bunny slippers when her cell phone rang. She looked at the clock and it was after 8 PM. She answered.
"Good evening, Miss Lane. My name is Adam Carr; I'm the acquaintance of your father and he suggested we meet as soon as possible." She could tell Adam was being purposely vague in case the phone was tapped.
"Hello, Mr. Carr. I was not expecting your call until tomorrow. Thank you for being so diligent," she began. "I'd love to meet you and I think I know just the place." She described a stone bench near some circular sculptures in Citygarden Sculpture Park. "Are you familiar with the park?"
Adam replied that he was, and they set the meeting time to 10 AM, knowing he would be there thirty to sixty minutes early to recon the park. "I'll see you then, Miss Lane."
The next day, Lois arrived about 9:45 AM. She was certain that her father had sent a photo of her to the CID agent's commander so that he knew what Lois looked like. She bet that she could spot him first.
The park was not very crowded. It was Friday and school was in session so kids were not everywhere. The few that were there had a parent or nanny with them. She had seen a few single men walking around and a few single women as well. Some were speed walking, others looked like they were just getting some fresh air and enjoying the last days of fair weather.
"Miss Lane?" a voice asked from behind her back. She spun around and almost lost balance. "Hi," the man said, extending his hand. "I'm Adam Carr."
She shook it. Damn it, she thought. "Hi Mr. Carr," she said. "Please, just call me Lois."
"And call me Adam," the warrant officer replied. He was not exceptionally tall nor extremely well-built like those celebrity bodyguards appear to be. But she knew he was well-trained in close combat and personal security, with lightning-fast reflexes, and deadly accurate with a pistol if it came to that. He was wearing faded jeans, Skechers, a MLB Cardinals cap, and a Doobie Brothers concert T-shirt beneath a lightweight black windbreaker. "Let's take a walk," he suggested.
Adam explained that he had been in the park for nearly an hour but had detected no one suspicious. Lois replied that she had seen him earlier and suspected it might be him but did not want to approach him and burn his cover if there were others watching. The comment amused him.
She was prettier in person than in her picture, he thought. Correction. She was friggin' gorgeous. Her chestnut brown hair, piercing gray eyes, and full lips would draw any man in. Her features were stunning, like a statuesque model. She was a natural beauty, like Jacklyn Smith had been in her days as one of the original Charlie's Angels and, in fact, still was.
But that was only part of the package. She looked fit, trim, muscular, and capable instead of scrawny, wasted, and in dire need of a sandwich like models often appeared. She did not have huge breasts but what she had looked full, natural, and fit her frame perfectly. Her waist was thin, and her hips were narrow, like an athlete's. Lois was the complete package, he thought, and rather than writing articles, she should be in front of movie cameras.
She explained the situation and said that she suspected he would be able to spot whoever was following her pretty quickly since he or she broke their cover late yesterday afternoon and almost reached her as she was entering the parking lot of her apartment building.
Adam agreed, suppressing a smile. "So, what I'm going to do is follow you back to your apartment. I'd like you to text me no less than five minutes before you plan on leaving. I'll do quick sweep and text you back when I'm done and then you'll be clear to go."
"Are you going to be parked in a car the whole time?" Lois asked.
"I'll be in a car most of the time, but it won't be parked. You won't likely see me very often and when you do, it won't be for long. I'll come and I'll go. I'll be here sometimes, and other times I might be a block or two away. I might be having a lunch or dinner break," he paused, "you'll know when I'm taking those breaks."
"You don't sit out all night, do you?"
"No, Lois. I will do about 12-hours a day and I have some contacts on the St. Louis PD who will do frequent "roll-bys" when I'm home."
That made Lois feel better about the security detail. She did not want to think about the poor guy trapped in a car all day and all night, non-stop. But she told Adam that she was a bit concerned at the mention of St. Louis PD.
"Don't be," he replied. "The guys I know there are in my unit and they are disgusted with the politics and the way that guy, Billingsley, has the brass under his thumb. In fact, one of the guys knows you and thinks you're a stand-up reporter." Adam paused. "We respect that, Lois, and no one's going to let anything happen to you."
"Other than getting fired, you mean?" she joked.
Adam smiled. "Right…other than that!"
"Seriously," Lois began, "I can't begin to thank you. You know," she added, "I can take care of myself face-to-face, but someone comes out from behind something and sucker punches me or tazes me, I'm easy prey at that point." She let her guard down a little. "Even though I'm a general's daughter and I've had lots of training from some real bad dudes, there are still situations that even I can't handle." She softened her voice. "To be completely honest, I've been freaking out a little since that person came running in my direction yesterday."
"No doubt, Lois," Adam answered. "I don't know anyone who wouldn't be on edge after that. But you can stop worrying now, you're covered."
So, a personal security detail for Lois was set and that Friday, there were no detectable tails or anyone Adam could identify surveilling her apartment. At 9 PM, he texted Lois. "Heading home for the night, be back by 9 AM. All quiet and PD will be driving by about every half hour or so."
She acknowledged the text and he concluded with, "Sleep tight."
The next day, Saturday, had been uneventful as well. Adam had texted her that he had not seen anyone acting suspicious in the vicinity of the apartment complex. Lois texted him that if there was no indication of a tail or someone watching her, would it be okay to buy him dinner for spending his weekend guarding her. He consented to having dinner with her. He figured that he would never have the chance again to be seen sharing a meal with a woman as striking as Lois. "Would you mind if I invited others?" he texted. Lois told him to invite whoever he wants, and Adam indicated it would be the couple guys on the St. Louis PD who were also reserve CID agents from his unit. He thought she might like to know them.
He met her at the front of the apartment complex and drove her to the restaurant. The two others joined shortly thereafter and the four of them rallied at the small Italian restaurant that Lois had often patronized. It was a family-owned place with great food and really nice proprietors. She had established a pretty close relationship with Sophie Signorelli, the wife of the owner, who offered some very detailed cooking tips. Frozen pizza rolls were at the pinnacle of Lois's Italian cuisine cooking pantheon, but she dutifully recorded and saved the recipes anyway. She enjoyed talking to them when nights were slow and loved to listen to the story of their American journey.
Adam and his two fellow reserve CID agents escorted Lois out of the restaurant at 10:15 PM, even though the restaurant had closed earlier. She gave them all hugs as she left, and Adam returned her to the pedestrian access at the front of her apartment complex. "I won't be up and even thinking about leaving the house until after 12 noon, so there's no need for you to come any earlier than that."
"Sounds good," he replied. "I'll see you tomorrow, Lois." He bid her a good night and waited to make sure she safely got inside, secretly wishing he was going in with her.
It had been eight days since she was fired from her job at the Daily News, and this was the first day Lois had felt relaxed and did not need to be on high alert. Knowing Adam Carr and some trusted cops were protecting her allowed her to finally get some unburdened sleep. She had one more interview the next afternoon and she wanted to look well-rested for it.
Her appointment was scheduled for 3:30 in the afternoon and the restaurant was located just under a fifteen-minute drive from her apartment. Lois dressed nicely for the interview, probably nicer than most people would have for a wait staff position. She texted Adam at 3:00 and let him know that she would be down in about 10 minutes. He texted back that he would be ready.
Adam followed Lois to her appointment and parked across the street from the stylish upscale barbecue restaurant where she was to meet her prospective employer. Lois did not tell Adam that she was applying for a hostess position at the restaurant but instead, simply said she was supposed to meet the man who would be interviewing her at the restaurant. He deduced that she was taking a job at the restaurant just to keep money coming in until she could get hired on to another newspaper or TV station somewhere. He sensed that her pride had prevented her from telling him that she was looking for entry-level work, and it kind of endeared her to him.
Lois left her interview at 4:11 PM and headed back to her apartment. She made eye contact with Adam who nodded and pulled out from his streetside parking space and followed at distance behind her. Her dad was right about him, he was a good man, she thought. She glanced in her rear view mirror and caught sight of him about a block and a half and two cars behind her.
She was turning right onto the side street that contained the entrance to the complex. She was about halfway down to the entry gate when she spotted a dark blue car parked adjacent to the gate. The door opened and a man wearing a ball cap, sunglasses, and a dark windbreaker emerged from the car. Lois glanced in her rear-view mirror but saw nothing. "Oh shit," she muttered. She was less than 200 feet from the man. He was looking straight at her and then stepped into her line of travel. He was holding his hands up as if surrendering.
Mow him down, was her first thought but knew she could not bring herself to do that yet. She slowed to nearly a stop. If the man produced a weapon or anything, she would have no choice but to run him over. Almost at a standstill, he lowered his hands and began to walk toward her car. Wait, she thought. Is that…
Before she could finish her thought, Adam Carr flew past her, and his car fishtailed to a stop between Lois's car and the man who was approaching her. The instant the car came to a halt, the driver door flew open.
The man that had been approaching Lois had retreated back to his car. Adam launched himself toward the man and forcibly drove him back against the dark blue Volvo XC60. He spun the man around, and in an instant had him splayed across the hood and was pulling his arms back one at a time to apply handcuffs.
It happened so quickly that Lois had hardly had time to put her car in park and get out before the man was in handcuffs. She warily approached him, Adam holding him down against the hood with his hands cuffed behind his back. She could not hear what he was saying to the man or what the man was saying to him. But her bodyguard reached up and pulled the man's hat off and tossed it onto the hood. He stood him up and turned him around.
"Holy shit," Lois muttered.
"He says you know him. Is that right?" Adam asked.
"I do know him," she replied. "It's my former boss." She looked confused and now approached both of them. "What the hell are you doing, Mr. Busby?"
"Lois," he said, "I'm just here to try to help you." He was shaken and his words were choppy as he spoke. "What the hell is all this?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Oh, like you helped me when you fired me?"
"I had no choice," he pleaded. "I have a family and if I didn't do what Billingsley ordered me to do, I would have been without work. I still have kids living at home." He was regaining his composure. "Can we go somewhere and talk…please?"
She looked at Adam. "He's clean," he said. "Let me get my car out of the road and then we'll proceed," he added. He led Busby to the sidewalk but left him handcuffed. Busby protested but Carr ignored him. Lois returned to her car and moved to the vehicle gate, while Adam parked his car further down the side street and returned to where Busby was standing. By the time Lois came out of the side pedestrian gate after parking, Adam had returned to take the handcuffs off of Busby.
"I want to try to help you, Lois," Busby stated again. "But we need to talk."
"This is Mr. Carr. He's part of my personal security team. He goes with us and stays with us," Lois demanded.
"I don't think I like that arrangement. I've done nothing wrong and you…"
"Excuse me," Adam began, "but stalking is a crime in Missouri. Two colleagues of mine and friends of Miss Lane who are on the St. Louis PD who would be happy to come get you and explain it to you down at the station if you prefer."
"Stalking? I was just waiting for her to return so that I could talk to her."
"And you were here the other day, correct? You missed her because she pulled into the gate before you could get to her. Am I right?"
"Yes, but…"
"But nothing. You've stalked Miss Lane and whatever it is you have to say to her, you'll say it with me there or my two colleagues will…"
"Okay, fine," Busby conceded. "Where are we going, Lois?"
She thought for a moment. Not in that place that looks like a rummage sale on the 6th floor. "There is a tenant's lounge on the third floor. We can go there."
Adam uncuffed Busby who rubbed his wrists as the three of them silently walked to the pedestrian gate. They went through the two doors and Lois led them to the rear entrance from the parking lot. Her key card opened the door, and they took the elevator to the third floor.
The tenant's lounge was empty on the late Sunday afternoon. She opened the door and turned on the lights. Busby and Adam followed. A seating area with two overstuffed chairs, a loveseat, and a coffee table was their landing spot. Lois and Adam took the chairs, Busby sat on the loveseat.
"So, let's hear it," Lois said smugly.
Busby began. "First of all, I have been trying to reach you. I don't have your personal phone number and I didn't want to ask human resources for it. You, obviously, don't have our work phone anymore so getting in touch with you has not been easy." He looked at Adam. "I haven't been stalking you in the penal sense of the word." He looked back at Lois. "I've been trying to catch you."
Lois was getting impatient and interrupted her former boss. "For what? What kind of help can you possibly give me at this point, Mr. Busby?"
"I have a couple of things for you, Lois. But first, this conversation is off the record. You got that?" He looked at Adam. "Off the record. This conversation never took place," he looked back at Lois, "and it's a conversation you're going to want to hear. Agreed?" He looked at both of them who agreed to his terms. "You know that Billingsley owns the paper, right?" She nodded. "He owns a lot of things in this town and beyond. I suspect you know that as well, right?"
"Yes, and nothing you're telling me is helping anything," Lois clapped back.
"He's a very wealthy man but there is an even wealthier man who controls Mr. Billingsley."
Lois was exasperated and exhaled loudly to underscore her exasperation. "Everyone has a boss, Mr. Busby. Except me, of course."
"You need to listen and pay close attention, Lois," Busby clapped back. "As long as you're in St. Louis, you're easily within Billingsley's reach. Messing with him or his family is a mistake you can't recover from as long as you're here or nearby." He paused. "I know you're looking for more evidence but you'll get nowhere with it around here."
Still annoyed but sensing Busby's sincerity, Lois held her tongue. She was not looking for more evidence at this point, she was looking for a forum to present it and a law enforcement agency to pursue it.
Busby continued. "Your only advantage, Lois, is that Billingsley believes he was squashed you by ordering me to fire you. He assumes that will be the end of it, but I know you, and I know that's not true." He paused for affirmation. Lois said nothing and he added, "Am I right?"
"I'm not sure if it's the end of it or not, Mr. Busby," Lois said. "But it's kind of a moot point if there is no law enforcement interested in gathering the evidence of corruption in this city and no DA willing to prosecute him and others for it, is there?"
"As I said, not in this city. You know as well as I that when corruption is on the scale that it is here, you have to go to outside of the whole area." He looked at Adam. "I doubt even going into Illinois is going far enough because Walter Billingsley has a long reach." He looked back at Lois. "That's what I came to tell you, first of all."
"Why did you even bother?" Lois frowned and asked. "I knew all that already. The only thing you've told me that I didn't know is that Billingsley thinks it's over and done with." She did not inform Busby of the evidence she had or that she had no intention of looking for more. "I know you have gone to great lengths to bring me this information, but do you think this is in any way helpful, Mr. Busby?"
"Well, I thought it might ease your mind if you were concerned that Mr. Billingsley may be targeting you or after you somehow," he looked back at Adam again, "and it seems that you were. You don't need to be."
"How can you be so sure?"
"I've known Walter Billingsley for nine years. I know when he's sure he's won and when he's not. In this case, he's sure that he's won. From his perspective, nothing is happening to him, his family or his interests. The college got an 'anonymous'," using air quotes on the term, "message on their internal messaging system that the ransomware had been unlocked and full control had been returned to the system's administrator. So other than some tense moments, they haven't been harmed and all it cost Billingsley is one reporter on a newspaper that he owns."
"So let's recap," Lois said sarcastically, "this guy's kid gets away with an assault on a police officer, an attempted extortion, and a computer crime; his wife gets away with an aggravated assault on a law enforcement officer, Lois Lane gets shown the door with no chance of continuing her career, and Andrew Busby continues to gaslight the public with happy stories that enable this scumbag to keep corrupting public institutions because he as a family." She cocked her head and pasted on a fake smile. "Yep, sounds like the definition of winning as long as you're on the Billingsley side of the ledger."
Busby looked down and then back to Lois. "You're right on all counts," he admitted. "But don't forget his leverage in Jefferson City either. He bankrolls most of the politicians up there no matter what side of the aisle they sit on." He shook his head slowly. "This has gone on so long that nothing and no one in St. Louis is going to change the situation here."
Adam chimed in. "So why again are you here and bothering Miss Lane? It seems to me that she has already, more or less, ferreted out everything you've told her."
He exchanged glances between the both of them. "Have you ever heard the name, Lex Luthor?" Lois shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. "He controls Billingsley."
"And?" Lois prompted.
"Lex Luthor won't lose either. If he believes his empire in in jeopardy, then he'll cut Billingsley off at the knees and Billingsley will be walking the tightwire without a net." He paused. "If you can find a source willing to expose the extent of Billingsley's corruption, then you'll have him by the balls because Lex Luthor wants no part of negative press."
"Excuse me but what's in it for Luthor?" Adam asked.
"Do you know what Missouri's leading industry is?"
"Soybean, corn, and probably hog futures," Lois quipped.
"National defense and aerospace," Busby replied. "Missouri is a huge player in that arena and Lex Luthor is fabulously wealthy because of it. Billingsley has been Luthor's proxy for years and has become a very high-earning multi-millionaire because of that. Luthor had the inside track on most of the contracts to develop the defense and aerospace manufacturing before they were announced and he used Billingsley to grease Missouri state politicians' palms, cutting through lots of red tape and regulations for permitting and environment to make it cheaper for Luthor to build and undercut competitors. Billingsley has even twisted arms in Jefferson City to use state funds to build roads and railroad spurs to support Luthor's manufacturing plants."
Adam leaned forward. "So, Luthor is a sharp businessman like every other sharp businessman. What's the point?"
"For a man who has amassed a vast fortune that exceeds most publicly known billionaires, he has an unnatural aversion to personal attacks in the media. Link anything that may be unsavory to him, and he cuts ties immediately and has even been rumored to purposely sabotage that person, place or thing that would dirty his reputation." He looked at Lois. "That's why Billingsley owns the St. Louis Daily News. Do you think it makes a lot of money for him?" He made a face, implying it was a ridiculous thought, shook his head and said, "It keeps LexCorp's manufacturing plants out of the news for any negative reason. And being Lex's proxy, Billingsley needs to be squeaky clean too. Links to Lex Luthor could be traced back from Billingsley if someone took the time and effort to do it. So, Billingsley appears to be the big wheel in Missouri and with that comes the corruption through money and intimidation; courts, media, police, politicians. But it's really Lex Luthor in a Walter Billingsley suit."
"So, I'm still missing out on what the important information is for me to know. It's a great story. Change the names and write a book," she replied dismissively. "I have to make a living and the career I wanted has been snatched away from me."
Busby looked genuinely sorry. "I hated doing that to you, Lois. I had such great hopes for you and that we could find a way to slowly expose some of this corruption to get the ball rolling. That's part of the reason I'm here. I couldn't count on anyone else in the newsroom to even consider it, your partner included."
"Tony Arreto?" Lois asked. "What's he got to do with this?"
"Who do you think tipped Billingsley off that you weren't dropping the story?" Lois shook her head in disgust. She should have known. "Billingsley has reach, Lois. He can't control everything without his sources keeping him informed. He's got them everywhere. Just like he has judges, DAs, police officials, politicians…"
"Don't forget newspaper editors," Lois interjected.
"And television station news editors as well," Andrew replied. "All he needs are some well-placed people at the top to do his bidding and well-placed people at the bottom to keep him informed of what's happening. Everyone else just cruises along oblivious to it all because it's mostly transparent to the vast majority of people." He looked at Lois. "Those who are aware and could do something to bring it to light get crushed."
Tony Arreto. What a scumbag! Why didn't I think of that, she asked herself. 'Good luck, Mary Sue,' he said to her as she was being escorted out. Maybe I'm not a Mary Sue, but I'm not done yet. I'll find a way to bring it all down and you'll be part of it, you shit heel, she thought.
It all made much more sense now and she sensed that her former editor-in-chief was drawing a parallel between her and himself. She was still angry with him but began to understand his dilemma a little better. It was 'play ball or be cut from the team' with no prospects.
"Was I followed?" she asked.
"What do you mean," Busby replied.
"When I left the Daily News after you told me to can the story; was I followed? Would you know if I was?"
"You weren't followed as far as I know. I know that security collected everything that computer guy printed out and brought it to me. I immediately sent it over to Billingsley by courier as I was instructed to do. I think if he had you followed, he would have told me when he ordered me to fire you and have all the screen shots sent to him. Tony may have said something about where you were going."
"I didn't tell Tony," she interrupted.
"Then I doubt Billingsley would have had enough time to put a tail you before you were gone."
Adam looked at his watch. "So, getting back to the part about how this all helps Miss Lane?" he prompted.
Andrew nodded. "Yes, of course." He focused on Lois. "If you want to do something about all this, I will help you as much as I can but I have to be an anonymous source. If I'm found out, I'll be on the outside and you won't have any more help." Lois nodded that she understood. "I'll need your phone number, Lois." She gave him the number and Andrew stood and reached into the inside jacket pocket and pulled out a small note card envelope and handed it to Lois. "Open it," he said.
It was a card with Andrew J. Busby engraved on the outside. She opened it and there was a phone number written on the inside. "Whose number is this?"
"A friend of mine. Remember that number because you'll want to answer that call." He looked at Adam and then back to Lois. "This is all I can do to help," he said. He waited a beat and then announced, "I'll let myself out."
Adam stood and Andrew moved around the coffee table, heading for the door. Before he left, he turned and said, "I really am sorry about the way things happened, Lois. Good luck to you." With that, Busby left.
Adam turned to Lois. "Do you believe him?"
"I do," she replied. "I'm still chapped at being fired but I know I had a role in making him do that." She looked at the card and turned it over in her hand to see if there was anything on it that might indicate who would be calling. She slipped it back into the small envelope and shoved it in her suit pocket. "I guess I won't be needing your protection any longer."
"Are you certain? This is counted as Reserve hours for me so it's not a problem."
Lois rose and walked to Adam. She pulled him into a hug and said, "I'm certain. Thank you, Adam…for everything." She gave him a peck on the cheek and stepped away.
He said goodbye and told her she had his number if anything changed. He reminded her that there were two cops in the St. Louis PD who she could trust in a pinch, but that he would always be available. He turned and left. Dad was right about him.
She gave him time to get on the elevator to avoid the awkward silence in front of an elevator bank awaiting a car. She went upstairs to her apartment, stripped out of her suit and into a pair of sweatpants and a Kansas City Chiefs jersey. She grabbed a pint of Rocky Road ice cream with a sense of melancholy for a lost job, a nice guy leaving her orbit, a downtrodden boss, and a huge story with no place to file it. She got up and grabbed a spiral ring steno pad and began making notes about the connection between Billingsley and Lex Luthor.
Lex Luthor. Lois retrieved her laptop to find out more about him. Before she could get much information about him, her cell phone rang, and she immediately noticed the number was the one belonging to Andrew Busby's friend.
"Hello," she answered.
"Well good evening," the man on the line said. "Is this the number for Lois Lane?" he asked.
"Speaking," she replied warily.
"Miss Lane, Andrew Busby gave me your name and has strongly recommended you to me. My name is Perry White and I'm the Editor-in-Chief at the Daily Planet. I'd like to know if you might be interested in moving to Metropolis and coming to work for me?"