The destruction of the lab caused there to be less security personnel that guarded the island. This made it very easy for the two to pull their small vessel ashore and make their way to find Dr. Slate. They soon discovered him walking in the parking lot, and he was talking with three other people.
The two ran and crouched behind a few rocks to go unnoticed. Clark peeked out and saw four men. He then whispered, “Lois, which one is Slate?”
Lois slowly stuck her head out as well. “He’s the one with the rug.” She noticed that Clark looked oddly at her. “The wig, Smallville. He’s the one with the bad hair.”
Clark then realized what she meant. “So, how you want to do this?”434Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhewTb2FpRj
“Just follow my lead.” Lois reached in her suit coat pocket and turned on her tape recorder. She left it in her pocket and went in her bag to take out a pen and a pad of paper. She stood up and with Clark beside her, they headed over towards Slate and his guests. “Excuse me, Mr. Slate. Lois Lane, Daily Planet. I was wondering if you can describe the damage done to your building. Was anyone hurt?”
Garrison stopped walking and turned around. He saw both Lois and Clark and looked around. Stunned he asked, “How on earth did you two get over here?”
“Mr. Slate, was anyone hurt?” Lois persisted.
“Look, Miss Lane was it? I’m not ready to make a public statement at this time. I am still making notes myself.”
“Yes, but…”
Garrison cut Lois off, “Pardon me Miss Lane, but you look a bit young to be working for…I’m sorry, who were you with again?”
“The Daily Planet. And yes I’m young and new to the Planet, but regardless, I’m still a journalist.”
“Well, Miss Lane, let me give you and your friend here a little tip. You need to get use to hearing the phrase ‘no comment.’
Garrison excused himself and went to join his guests again. Clark then spoke up to get his attention one more time. “One last question Mr. Slate. Was Professor Hamilton still at work the night of the storm?”
“Like I told the girl, no comment!” said Garrison.
“The professor was a friend of mine, Mr. Slate,” said Clark.
Garrison walked back over to Lois and Clark. “Is this question off the record?”
Clark looked straight in his eyes and said, “Yes, sir. I’m just concerned about him.”
“I’m sorry to inform you, but the professor was injured. He was transported to the hospital earlier this morning. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
Clark permitted Garrison to leave without having said another word. He looked over at Lois and said, “Looks like we came out here for no reason.”
“Smallville, we just found out someone was injured here. We got a story after all.”
“Lois, I just promised him that this news was off the record.”
“Yes, but we can go to the hospital and find your friend and get the story straight from the source. That way, you keep your word and we get our byline.”
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I knew it was an inside job when I noticed what was taken. No other room was touched and there were no signs of a break in. The only thing that was taken was my collection of meteorites. I have had enough. If people thought I was cruel before, they haven’t seen anything yet. I’ll treat LuthorCorp like a prison if I have to. I made arrangements to meet with a designer for a new layout to prevent this from happening again.
At the crack of dawn I organized a special board meeting. I made sure that everyone was accounted for. I had informed them all of the second burglary and revealed my thoughts of this being an inside job. I told them that I was left with no other choice but to terminate anyone who was associated with Project Element. By the end of the meeting, I had discharged five members who worked directly for LuthorCorp including Fu and Molina. And just in case they had any thoughts to retaliate with their fists, I had Mercy and other security personnel standing guard. I also had Camille draft up a hundred and fifty pink slips along with two weeks’ severance. I canceled my contract with the overnight security company that I originally had on payroll and switched to another company. I was left to trust no one but myself and view everyone else as my foe.
Early after lunch, I met with a designer that had come highly recommended. I had done some digging and found out that he had helped with the blue prints for Wayne Enterprises. I was warned that he could be a bit odd, but that he was also a genius when it came to building complicated structures. We began to discuss different ways I could make my building more secure. Some of his ideas were absurd and others were just not cost effective, for LuthorCorp would have to be shut down for too long of a time period. After staring at the plans of the current design, he said he just might have a solution. He took a few moments to draw on a blank sheet of paper. When he was done he showed me something that I had never seen before. It appeared that he sketched a hidden level right between two floors.
I looked at him intently and said, “Can this be done?”
He laughed. “It already is!”
I thought his green tie was crazy, but I now suspected he was as well. “Excuse me, Edward, but you’re going to have to explain yourself.”
“Mr. Luthor, there would be very little construction needed to be done on the outer face of LuthorCorp. All we have to do is a bit of tweaking.”
I was most interested. “Go on.”
Edward continued, “First, we have to pull down the numbers in the stairwells. Then we readjust the numbers in all the elevators and program them to skip this hidden floor. When all is done, you can construct this hidden floor to be your very own private vault.”
I loved the idea, but I then had a thought. “Edward, I was going to give you a bonus, but I just uncovered one problem.”
His smile went away. Confused and a bit insulted he asked, “What’s that?”
“This would cause all the floors to be one level higher than they actually are. In retrospect, floor 2 will actually be floor 3.” I stopped and paused for a second because he didn’t seem to know what I was getting at. I yelled, “So, that means the employees on the top floor will be working on the roof!”
His demeanor quickly changed from serious to comical. With a big smile on his face he reached down and picked up his cane. He then covered his red hair with an old fashioned bowler hat that coordinated with his tie. He sunk in the chair and began to slowly spin the cane between his legs. What little propriety this man had was now gone. “Well, riddle me this Mr. Luthor, how many sides does a circle have?”
He slowly asked the question as if he was very serious, yet the expression on his face said otherwise. The stories I had heard about him were correct. He was indeed a crack pot genius. But I gave him the queerest look. “None you idiot! It’s a circle.”
He waved his index finger and shook his head. “Uh uh uh. A circle has two sides. It has an inside and an outside.”
I didn’t see where he was going with this. I wanted someone with answers. Not someone with…riddles. “What’s your point, Edward?” I asked very tiredly.
Laughing he said, “If a circle can have two sides then why can’t one of your floors? Just divide it in half.”
He continued to watch me with his grin as I contemplated what he was saying, and I couldn’t get over the simplicity of it all. I could just reassign everyone on the top floor and mix them up between the two lower floors. After all, it’s just the accounting department. “Edward, we have to start planning this now. I want to give the supervisors time to inform their subordinates about the drastic seating changes that will take place. This and at least partial construction would need to be done over the weekend.” I couldn’t have people thinking that it took an entire three days to play some musical chairs.
Edward was now even more enthused. “We could start planning this now, Mr. Luthor.”
Before I agreed, we were interrupted by a knock on the door. “Come in,” I yelled.
It was Camille. “I’m sorry Mr. Luthor, but your 3 o’clock appointment is here. They’re waiting in your office.”
Mad as hell, I yelled, “Damn. I must have lost track of the time. Edward, I’ll be in touch with you shortly. In the mean time, come up with the calculations for the elevators. I assume the task won’t be too puzzling for you?”
Still smiling he said, “No problem, Mr. Luthor. I love puzzles. Um, by the way what about that little bonus?”
I actually thought the man deserved it. If he didn’t follow through, I still had ways to make him pay it back. “Very well,” I told him. “Camille, write up a check for twenty thousand for Edward here.” I thought that should be enough to get him started. I excused myself and left the two in the board room. I didn’t want to keep my urgent appointment waiting.
Camille felt a great discomfort being alone with him. She could feel his improper thoughts all over her body. And it gave her the chills. “Ok, I’m going to need a bit more information.” She just watched him make an eerie smile as she talked. “What is the check for, so I can put it in the memo? And I’m going to need your full name.”
Edward looked her up and down. He almost couldn’t handle the sight of her long legs. “Oh yes.” He said as he snapped back from undressing her. “You can put in the memo that this is a bonus for some reconstruction.”
Camille continued as she wrote, “And your name, sir.”
Edward stood up and leaned forward on his cane. The cane was like no other, for it had an odd bent shape, almost like a question mark. “The name’s Edward. Edward Nigma. N-I-G-M-A. And sometimes Y.” He always joked about the spelling of his last name because some people have spelt it N-Y instead of N-I.
She didn’t understand or care for his joke. Camille quickly wrote his name down on a note that looked like a prescription pad and signed it. “Go to the top floor and give this to the lady at the desk.” She then hurried and left the room. She couldn’t wait to get away from his peculiar presence.
_____________________________________________________________________
A portion of Miles street was roped off by yellow police tape. High above was the Metropolis Police Chopper searching the surrounding area for the two gunmen at large. The silent blue and red lights brushed along the nearby houses from the police cruisers that rushed to a ‘shots fired’ call. Uniformed officers kept the crime scene secure and wrote down the names of all the witness for the homicide detectives to interview. An EMT helped the coroner lift the stretcher into his transport vehicle that carried a black cadaver pouch.
This wasn’t a surprise visit to Miles street from the city police. They came out in droves to this part of town especially at night. A majority of the low class crime was well operated in Southside. Downtown Metropolis was full of car accidents, muggings, bank robberies and extortion. Sure it had its fill of murders and car theft and other types of crime. But it compared nothing to the on goings of Southside. This part of Metropolis was full of gambling, rapes, drug dealings, home invasions and arsons. This particular night it had one of its many drive by shootings. People knew that the only way out of this slum was by winning the state lottery or by suicide. So, the unfortunate residents of Southside had their very own name for their projects and dilapidated duplexes. These people were stuck in ‘Suicide Slum.’
A balding man had on a dark suit. His tie was loose around his neck and his top button undone. He jotted down what the other man was saying on a small note pad. His police badge could be seen attached to his belt. His Irish accent diminished from his many years in the US. “So, tell me again how it was you and your wife came to be over here.”
Frustrated and covered in dried blood the man could barely stand. “Look, I already told you twice and an hour ago I told the other officer what happened. My wife has been killed, and you want to spend your time asking me the same questions over and over again.”
The detective knew that this man was getting upset, yet his years of training showed him that his eyes were hiding something. He also knew that his story didn’t add up. “I just can’t see how two decent people are out driving around and wind up in Suicide, I mean Southside.”
“For the last time, my wife and I were headed home from dining out and ran into heavy traffic. I took a detour to avoid sitting all night in the jam. We wound up in this part of town and our tire blew. I got out to change it and that is when these thugs took me by surprise.”
The detective still watched his eyes intensively. “You said there were two thugs, right?”
He knew full well that the detective was trying to catch him in a lie. But he carefully planned this night all too well. He practiced these words for a full month. Giving just enough time for their new life insurance policy to kick in. “No, there were four of them. They managed to get me in the middle of them, and then they started taunting me. I went to give them my wallet, and out of nowhere we all heard the screeching of car tires. Someone in this car stuck a gun out the window and just started firing at us.”
The detective interrupted. He was also tired of listening to this whopper. “This is where you lose me, sir. You said you got out to change your tire which puts you over here.” The detective moved alongside the shot up car and used his fingers to act out the events of what this man was saying. “Then the two thugs…”
Annoyed, the man said, “Four, damn it! There were four of them.”
Apologetic, the detective continued. “Right, sorry. The four thugs came up on you and cornered you against this store front window over here.” He again moved and pointed to the window that was protected by the metal gate that shielded it during the night. His car was parked directly in front of the store. “You then say you heard a car, and witnessed someone drawing a gun. And for no apparent reason, he started shooting at you?”
He couldn’t understand why this detective didn’t believe him. People just don’t need reasons anymore to shoot at someone. “Maybe, they were rival gangs. Maybe they thought they could take them out. How the hell should I know why monsters do what they do?”
The detective’s demeanor remained the same. He was still calm and collective. “That’s actually what I originally thought when I came on the scene. That you and your wife just got caught up in a cross fire. However, if what you’re saying happened the way it did, then there would be bullets on the sidewalk where you say you and these other men were, bullets in the wall of the store, or bullets in you or one of these thugs. Had one of these men gotten shot, then I’m sure there would be a trail of blood from when they ran away. But, my officers couldn’t find any signs of shots being fired in your direction. All the evidence collected from this shooting are in your car or are still inside your wife.”
This took months of planning. Months of hiring the right people for the job. Months of timing every detail perfectly. And here stood this dick that saw right through it all. Out of all the dicks on the force that were only in it for the money, Morgan Edge had to find the one who actually liked his job. He remembered all the victims he encountered and talked with during his nights he spent at abuse recovery groups. He remembered their emotions and facial expressions when they talked about their problems. Edge tried to harness those feelings that he carefully observed while they were being displayed in front of all the anonymous people. Mustering up a few tears Edge played the victim. “I’ve got nothing left to say to you, you heartless bastard. My wife died in my arms and you dare insinuate that this is all some kind of cover up. If you’re not arresting me for anything, then I’ll be on my way.”
The detective realized that he couldn’t hold Edge on pure speculation. He also realized that the next time they would talk, Edge would more than likely be accompanied by an attorney. He tried to smooth things over so that Edge might not lawyer-up. He stopped him from walking away. “Mr. Edge, would you like one of the officers to give you a lift home?”
Edge turned around to face the detective. He raised his hand and gave him the finger. He proceeded to walk away. He lifted the yellow police tape and walked under it. Edge continued to walk down Miles Street just as he did when he was a teenager. Being a former native of Suicide Slum, one gets to know all the wrong kinds of people that will do just about anything if the price is right. Edge didn’t win the lottery, and of course didn’t commit suicide. He found another way out of the slum. He wasn’t much of a patriot, but to get out he’d do just about anything. So, at the age of seventeen, high school dropout Morgan Edge enlisted into the military.
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