by Gwenda Bond
James caught up. “Wait. Dad’s here? Already?”
“Seemed wisest,” Perry said. And when Ms. Harris slowed for one brief moment, he added, “In Angela’s opinion. And I agreed.”
I had my doubts. “What if there’s a rat in the home incarceration monitoring office?”
Ms. Harris looked at me with pleased surprise. “You’re just as sharp as Devin says. We got a quiet—very quiet—judge’s order to remove the monitor and leave it at the Worthington residence. No one will notice anything unusual.”
Perry opened his mouth, but I anticipated his question. “Yes, Principal Butler is heading there shortly and should deliver the summons to Moxie and Ellis and the, er, twin right on schedule.”
Ms. Harris paused in front of a door with a frosted glass window. “In here. This isn’t my office, but it’s one we’re able to use. One of my most trusted staffers is keeping an eye on him. Getting Mayor Worthington in was difficult enough.” I must have raised my eyebrows in question, because she said, “It’s quieter to stay here than try to leave. And we need to keep this quiet.”
Oh, did we. If Moxie or Ellis got wind of this before they were nabbed, chances were they’d flee the city—and probably the country. Our chance to nail them would be lost.
Ms. Harris whisked us into the office. James’s dad was sitting in a chair at a small table positioned opposite a desk. A middle-aged man with a slight frame and his sleeves rolled up stood beside a corner chair. He nodded to Ms. Harris and sat back down.
Mayor Worthington rose to his feet and before he could say a word, James launched himself at his dad and they hugged each other.
Ms. Harris snapped her fingers and pointed to the table. Perry obeyed without question, depositing the box there. “Sorry to interrupt, Mayor Worthington,” she said, “but the clock’s ticking.”
“Heartwarmingness aside, I couldn’t have said it better myself,” I said.
Mayor Worthington extracted himself from James’s embrace, and I was happy that James didn’t bother to be embarrassed at the display of affection. It was also nice to see his dad looking hopeful. His head was up, eyes clear (if a touch shiny from unshed tears), and he was dressed in an extremely mayoral navy suit. “Your mom’s on her way,” he told James.
I’d almost forgotten how blindingly white James’s teeth could be until he smiled.
“The property documents and threat tape will do for the arrest warrants,” Ms. Harris said.
“Of course.” James’s dad crossed to the box and removed the top of it, then began sorting through the files as Ms. Harris observed. After a moment, he passed one her way, and she flipped it open to read. She held out her hand and he passed her another one, and she repeated the process.
The atmosphere was as thick with tension as if the box contained a bomb while we awaited her verdict.
Finally, she looked up and half-smiled, probably at our laser focus on her. “You can all relax. It’s good. I’ll call the judge. Perry, you’re going to take care of the presser invites in a bit?”
I cleared my throat. “Shouldn’t Perry go write the story?”
Perry gave me a disappointed head shake. “What are you talking about? This is your story, Lois Lane. Never step aside and let someone have something you worked for. You earned this. So you’d better get back to the office and write it. The copy desk is on alert to get it prepped and ready to post when the press conference starts.”
I was going to write the story?
I’d just assumed it would be Perry. “I… I don’t know what to say.”
“That’s a first,” Perry said, but I could tell he was suppressing some emotion. I thought it might be pride. “No stopping to take a shower and change clothes, either. You’ll just have to live with your finest journalistic hour coming while you’re in your Oliver Twist get-up.”
Definitely pride. Despite the insult.
“Hey,” I protested. Besides, he was right: my boots and jeans and top were still smudged with dirt, and my face likely was too.
Perry was not in the mood for niceties. “Go, little orphan reporter girl.”
There was one thing I needed to do first. I grabbed a post-it from the desk and scrawled the address of Ismenios Labs on it.
Ms. Harris was on hold with the judge, so I gave her the note. “Unrelated, but something we found as part of our reporting—there’s an illegal lab, no permits, shady business, the works, at this address. Can you have someone go check it out? Stat? We think they might try to move it.”
She accepted the post-it. “Why not? I’ll pass the tip to a cop I know.” Then, a beat later, clearly not to me but to the person on the phone, “Oh, hello, Judge Watkins, it’s Angela again. I’m about to make your day. Or vice versa.” She laughed at the response, post-it still in her fingers, and I took that as my cue to leave.
“Lane,” Perry said, “don’t screw this up.”
James was already waiting by the door.
“Likewise,” I said.
*
There was a giddiness to our mad dash from City Hall to the Daily Planet Building. James and I bolted across streets and the concrete front plaza and through the revolving doors into the lobby without stopping for so much as a breather. Inside, we waved at the fresh-faced security guy, who knew us and laughed as we darted over to the grim gray elevator. For once, it came right away, the door sliding open to admit us. We were sweating and winded, but we were also still flying high, and so when the elevator stopped on our floor, we ran again, at top speed up the dim hall and into the Morgue.
Maddy and Devin were at their desks. Both jumped up, alarmed at our speedy entrance. “What’s wrong?” Maddy demanded.
James bent, hands on knees, recovering. I slipped into my chair and moused my computer to life, breathing hard too. “Just a sec.”
“No, you write,” James said. “I’ll fill them in.”
“My mom already texted me that the warrants came through,” Devin said. “She added that the press conference is at 2:45, don’t be late.”
I opened a new document on my computer before I looked over. James was gazing at Maddy in a way I couldn’t interpret. He’d promised me he’d think about what I said. Maddy might not even be glad about my meddling.
I’d done all I could there. I was doing my best to be a good friend—and to be true to myself. The rest was up to them.
“Why is Lois covered in dirt?” Maddy asked.
I laughed. “I like to think of it not as dirt but as the layer of truly gross grime that accumulates in a ceiling no one has been in for years. James, come up with a headline while I do the honors.”
“Got it,” he said, pausing his Maddy-staring to go to his own desk. Maddy walked over and sat on the edge of it, and Devin joined them.
They murmured together for a few seconds. I heard James say, “Perry told Lois to write the story.” That got a shocked coo in response, and he told them about our adventures in ceiling spelunking at City Hall. They kept their voices down so I could work, though. Which I appreciated.
I longed to check in with SmallvilleGuy, see if TheInventor was going to come through for us after all. But it would have to wait until I’d finished the story.
HEADLINE TK (Or… to come? Why is it TK? Am I spelling that wrong? Probably. Add the headline here.)
With unprecedented swiftness, the Metropolis Public Defender’s Office moved today to expunge any and all corruption and embezzlement charges against former Mayor James Worthington, Jr., after providing evidence to the Central District Court of Metropolis of an elaborate plot to frame the former mayor uncovered by reporters at the Daily Planet. Arrest warrants were being issued Thursday afternoon for the architects of the plot, Mayor Steve Ellis and the well-known local crime family patriarch Moxie “Boss” Mannheim, who has evaded authorities for years.
The story unfolded quickly as
I typed, in a way I was becoming familiar with. There was something about putting the truth on paper, bringing facts into the light of day where everyone could look at them, that made my fingers move faster—it was becoming one of my favorite sensations on earth.
“And… done.” I had no idea how long it had taken to compose the story, but no one had nagged me, so we must have been all right on time. “Saved in the edits folder. Add the headline and send it up to copy.”
Devin was back at his desk. “On it.”
“What headline did you choose?” I asked.
James stood. “Cleared Former Mayor Helps Send Crooks Who Framed Him to Jail, with the subhead: Mayor and Mobster Arrested.”
“Nice. Factual, not emotional. I would have been tempted to go with ‘See you later, suckers!’” I checked the clock on the wall. It was already nearing two thirty. I might still make it home for Dad’s looming deadline. But, first, I wanted to watch evil go down. “We don’t want to miss the press conference.”
“Which is why we all have our things ready to go,” Maddy said.
“Cheeky,” I said, gathering mine. “I need a minute.”
She opened her mouth to protest, then saw me lift my phone. She said, “All right, but make it quick.”
When Devin and James chimed in with variations on “What? No, come on,” she shushed them.
Of course, she couldn’t know it was the thought of my dad’s deadline that was prompting me to contact SmallvilleGuy. The next sighting was tonight. Had TheInventor gotten the info we needed to scare off the snoops? Had he figured out my dad was one of them? Even if he hopefully had no way of knowing General Lane was my dad.
And I wanted to share the victory high I felt from writing the big story.
SkepticGirl1: You there?
He responded immediately.
SmallvilleGuy: I didn’t want to bother you. But big news. He traced back Insider01’s account to an NSA-issued computer, and the person trying to hack the servers is from the CIA.
SkepticGirl1: So no Army?
SmallvilleGuy: Nope, and this is enough. He’s sending the IP addresses along with the message. In fact, he just sent it.
SkepticGirl1: Now we wait.
SmallvilleGuy: Now we wait. All good with you?
SkepticGirl1: The best—keep your eye on the home page. The press conf will be streaming.
“Ah, Lois, we need to go?” Maddy said gently.
Devin said, “We needed to go five minutes ago!”
James said nothing, though he had the most invested in not being late.
SkepticGirl1: Be in touch ASAP.
SmallvilleGuy: Proud to know you.
It was unfair I couldn’t take a moment to enjoy those words as thoroughly as I wanted to, but I put my phone away and hurried toward the others. Maddy thrust my bag at me.
“Is Dante coming?” I asked her.
“Not to this,” she said, and we walked as we talked. “He’s finishing the mural tonight and tomorrow. He wants us to come see it after school. All of us.”
I couldn’t help watching James for his reaction. “Sounds fun,” he said. “That’s probably why Lois hasn’t filed her story on it yet.”
“I’ve been a little busy,” I admitted. “But I should have been more interested in it, in what happens in every part of our city. We all should.”
And not only the stories that would hit page one—though I was some kind of proud to picture the story I’d just written there. Proud for all of us.
We headed back to City Hall. Not running, but not slacking off either, which left little room for conversation. Had the plan worked? It must be driving everyone in the press corps crazy, inviting them to a “major press conference” without saying what the event was about.
But there was always a chance someone would have managed to penetrate the secrecy and tipped off Moxie and Ellis so they could get out of Dodge before the cops could snag them. If my plans had gone right, a few minutes ago Principal Butler should have given them the vaguely sinister note to travel to City Hall, where Mayor Worthington would be waiting for their meeting.
I prayed the clone would be with them, and that he’d take me up on my offer for us to try to help him. Donovan’s proclamation wasn’t the only echo bothering me from that morning. There was also the clone’s insistence that he was nobody.
City Hall came into view, the street in front partially blocked by a few police cars. There was a podium backed by flags at the top of the steps in front of the doors, the press gathered below it. I spotted Devin’s mom nearby, Perry chatting in the crowd of press.
James’s dad was nowhere to be seen.
The others started across the street and I made to follow them, when a voice at my ear stopped me. “You don’t know me beyond my looking like him,” said the double.
I whirled to face him. “What?”
“I am free of him, but I find I prefer the idea of a leash,” he said. “Jail sounds nice.”
He lifted his arm so I could see he wore the tracker no longer.
“You positive about that?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I was about to question where Donovan was, but he spoke again.
“Oh, and they’re about to get away.” He extended a finger behind him, pointing off to the left.
A fancy sedan was stopped in the middle of the street on the other side of the cop cars. The driver threw it in reverse and began backing up, clearly intending to turn around and take off.
Oh no, no no no. Not so fast.
My friends had finally noticed I wasn’t with them, and they came back to me. “Lois?” Maddy asked. She and Devin and James were frowning in confusion at the clone.
“One sec.” I ran to the nearest police car and knocked on the window. The cop inside opened the door. “What’s the problem?”
I pointed at the car. “Boss Moxie and Mayor Ellis are right over there, and they’re leaving. I believe you have arrest warrants for them.”
“So we do,” he said, seeming unconcerned as he reached in for the radio.
“What are you doing?” I said.
“Northwest,” he said into the radio.
Two more police cars screeched from an alley into the street, blocking any possible escape. The cops jumped out of them and ran over to the sedan. They had the doors open in seconds and were pulling two men from the back seat: the beefy, square-faced Boss Moxie and the tan, balding, soon-to-be-former Mayor Ellis. The driver got out with his hands up.
I couldn’t help it—I grinned at them and waved. “Got you!” I called.
They may not have noticed, but it was still worth it. The click-click of camera shutters flashed as the reporters on the steps noticed the arrest, and then Devin’s mom took the podium, tapping on the mic for attention. She nodded back toward where the arrests were happening. “I see it’s time to get started. Stay where you are, and the reason for those arrests will be explained.”
There was a pause, and she lifted her hand to shade her eyes and see better. I saw why.
The clone was leaving our clump, heading to the arresting officers. He held out his hands to indicate he’d accept the cuffs.
It was bittersweet, but I couldn’t stop him. In a few seconds, the cuffs were around his wrists. He wanted them there.
Past the cop cars, a shiny shark-like gray Mercedes finished parking beside the curb. Who should climb out of it like a sleepwalker, but a stunned Principal Butler. He gaped over at the arrests happening and the press conference, wandering toward it.
“Good job, Principal,” I said as he neared us.
When he saw me, he blinked and then exploded. “You! You sent me to talk to mobsters. And the mayor!”
“I did you a favor,” I said. “Just listen to the press conference.”
James was beside me and he chi
med in. “Thank you. Dad won’t forget this.”
Principal Butler, his tie crooked, his shirt sweaty, swallowed whatever else he might have said to me.
“Lois is right. Go listen,” James said, and he waved for him to go on past us. With one final shake of his head at me, Butler went to join the chattering crowd gathered for the event. We crossed and stopped on the sidewalk at the bottom of the steps.
Ms. Harris continued, and the conversation in the crowd died back down as she spoke. “That man being arrested is not who he appears to be. I think you’ll do better to hear about all this from the person who brought forth the evidence, evidence that clears his name: Mayor James Worthington.”
Once you were an elected official, you got to keep the title forever as a courtesy. But James’s dad hadn’t been called that in non-accusatory tones in far too long.
He strode out from the building’s grand entrance, where he must have been semi-hiding. The collective gasp was audible. “I am honored to be able to step in front of you today with evidence of my innocence. My only betrayal of our great city of tomorrow is that I was cowed into not bringing forth that evidence earlier. I hope the people of Metropolis can forgive me. I believed I was protecting my family, but I see now that the truth is better. It was a lie that allowed Moxie Mannheim and Steve Ellis to frame me. They found a brother I and my family never discussed…”
Okay, so he still had to conceal the truth about the clone. But that was a white lie, one that both protected Melody’s involvement from coming out and allowed the public to know a more important truth. That he was innocent. And by the time he was done talking, I had no doubt he’d be mayor again as soon as there was another election. I also bet he’d be an even better one this time around.
The press corps started shouting their questions: “How long had Moxie been blackmailing you?” “What was your experience in prison?” “Will you run for office again?”
