A/N: Hereīs the promised update a few hours before the 6th. Enjoy it and make it last till August 16th when the following chapterīll arrive.
CHAPTER 2: The Past Knocks at the Door
STAR CITY- THE FAIRCHILDSī LIVING ROOM
Two hours had gone by since the shooting and the detective in charge of the investigation was sitting in the cosy living-room of the Fairchilds trying to get a statement from the young widow. Half an hour ago the paramedics had given her a sedative to help her with the shock and now that it had started to kick in, the police officer wanted to get some answers that might shed some light on the fatal incident.
It was evident that both men had struggled for possession of the gun- a fight which ended with two bullets in the older manīs abdomen and a fatal wound accidentally inflicted on the young manīs body when he tripped and hit his head against a work bench. However, the detective was more interested in the why than in the how, and the fact that a prominent but infamous Metropolis name was involved in the crime didnīt bode well.
“Mrs Fairchild, I know how difficult this must be for you, but I need to ask you a few questions,” the detective told Chloe after she downed a glass of icy-cold water with shaky fingers.
“There isnīt much to say, detective,” she choked as tears welled up in her eyes. “What did that man want with my husband?” she asked, wiping the tears away with the heel of her hands.
“Have you ever heard of... “ the policemen started to ask when a cultured, well-modulated voice was heard in the background.
“ Whoīs the officer in charge?” Lex asked a rookie, who was standing at the front door.
“Would you excuse me for a just a minute, madam?” the detective told Chloe as he got up from the armchair and crossed the living-room towards the entrance.
“Iīm sorry, sir. Youīll have to wait outside,” the rookie tried to stall Lionel Luthorīs first born.
“Itīs all right, agent,” interrupted the detective, recognising the tall patrician man as LuthorCorpīs CEO.”Iīll deal with him. Mr Luthor, Iīm Detective Straub- the officer in charge of the murder investigation. Iīm sorry for your loss,” the veteran law enforcer said, stepping out onto the veranda and shaking hands with the billionaire.
Lex clasped the older manīs hand in his and took a mental note to request an in-depth profile of the officer to make sure he wasnīt on Lionelīs payroll.
The twenty-six-year-old wanted to discover not just what his father had been doing in Star City, but also what had finally got him killed. Lex had toyed with the idea of hiring a hit man after the safe house explosion in which both Gabe and Chloe had lost their lives; but murder would have been too humane an ending for Lionel Luthor. No, the young CEO had had plans to make Lionel suffer for putting an end to the lives of a man Lex had grown to look up to as a father figure and a young woman who had made him want to be a better man. During the last three years he had had his father followed and investigated in an attempt to build up a new case that could secure his life-imprisonment. Now it seemed all his efforts had been in vain for Dr Fairchild had robbed Lex of the pleasure of putting his dad behind bars and throwing the key. And the young billionaire had to know why.
“Thank you, Detective Straub. Although itīs common knowledge my father and I havenīt been on speaking terms for years.”
“How did you find out about the crime so soon? Weīve barely identified one of the victims as your father,” asked the detective with a puzzled look.
“The fact that we were estranged doesnīt mean we didnīt keep tabs on each other, Detective. When you run a multimillion dollar corporation such as mine you always have to be one step ahead of those that might pose a threat to your empire and your own security. You donīt need me to explain to you the circumstances under which I gained control of LuthorCorp; it was pasted on the front page of every major newspaper around the country,” responded Lionelīs heir, boring his intense blue-grey eyes into the policeman.
“Right,” assented the older man with a tight smile. “Tell me, do you happen to know what your father was doing in Star City and why he called upon Dr Fairchild?” he added as Lexīs eyes strayed to an exquisite portrait which was hanging on the wall immediately behind the officer. “Mrs Fairchild is a beautiful woman, isnīt she? Itīs a tragedy for someone so young to be left a widow and a single mum in the bargain,” said the policeman, turning around to observe what had called the billionaireīs attention.
Lex felt a sudden pressure in his chest and a bout of breathlessness he hadnīt experienced since the days of his asthma attacks. Although the professional photograph didnīt show the Chloe he had known- there was something different about her- she had her bone structure and those unforgettable hazel green eyes heīd have recognised anywhere. On seeing the portrait Lexīs first thought was he must be dreaming- maybe projecting on the picture the hurt he had endured when he had failed to protect her and Gabe and started on a dark path which heīd sworn heīd never take. However, his eyes werenīt playing tricks on him- it had to be her; she was even wearing the St Christopherīs medal he had a Florentine artisan make especially for her.
It took every ounce of his Luthor-ingrained self-control and impassiveness to pretend in front of the detective that he hadnīt recognised the young woman who meant more than a mere acquaintance to him.
“Sheīs a charming young lady indeed,” responded a poker-faced billionaire. “Were there any witnesses?” he asked, looking back at the detective.
“Thatīs what weīre trying to assess. I understand your need for answers, but I donīt think your presence here would help matters considering... “
“Youīre right. Iīll meet you at the station. In any case, Iīll stay in town until my fatherīs body is released,” complied Lex, handing him his business card and curving his urge to barge into the house and see with his own eyes heīd been lied to three years ago.
“If youīll excuse me now, Iīve got to finish taking a statement. Youīll get news from me as soon as my reportīs ready,” the officer told him, shaking hands at the door. “Donīt let anyone in, Shaeffer,” he told the rookie once Lex was out of earshot. “No one, you hear me?” he said gravely, thinking his first hunch hadnīt been wrong; there was something big behind these two deaths.
“Harris, I want a security detail on Mrs Fairchild 24-7,” Lex snapped on his mobile. ”Be discreet,” he added, remembering how difficult it used to be to have Chloe under protective surveillance with her knack for detecting his security like a bloodhound. “I want a report on her moves twice a day,” he finished, getting into his rented BMW convertible.
What was it that you wanted with her after so many years, dad? What could have driven a well-respected citizen and prominent member of the medical community to murder you and run the risk of losing his young family by going to prison?
Lex fastened his seatbelt and, leaning back against the headrest to relieve the tension in his neck, closed his eyes. Heīd have to plan something to keep Lana away for a few days- maybe a trip to Amsterdam to see that Vermeer exhibition heīd read about. He needed time to process that Chloe wasnīt dead and to prepare himself for their first tęte-ā-tęte now that the reason for her staying in the witness protection programme was gone. If need be, his impending nuptials would be put off... indefinitely.
Lex knew heīd never loved the brunette the way he did Chloe, but the former cheerleader was someone he could mould at will, and that fact had provided him with the illusion he was the one in control, when the truth was his world had begun to spiral down the day the safe house was blown up and he lost the two people who had become his compass.
“Jennifer, I need you to pull up a file,” he ordered his assistant on the hands-free while he put the key in the ignition of his sports car. “173. Phone me when youīve found it and give me the address. And, Jennifer... get Miss Lang a suite at the Hilton in Amsterdam and make all the arrangements to guarantee her VIP treatment at the Vermeer exhibition. Tell McCormack I wonīt be needing him and that I want him to fly Miss Lang to The Netherlands. Yes, thatīll be all for now. No, that wonīt be necessary, Iīll phone her myself,” he concluded, taking off the earpiece and stopping at a red light on his way to the LuthorCorpīs condo.
METROPOLIS OUTSKIRTS- LATER THAT DAY
Lex pulled up his rented car opposite the old warehouse-turned-tenement and took the key off the ignition. The drive from Star City to his hometown had taken him just a couple of hours on the motorway and had helped him ease part of the tension that had gathered during his interview with the police and later on with the coroner.
There were still the CSI ballistic reports to complete and the evidence from the crime scene was being currently processed at the Star City Police Department Labs. However, the fact that there werenīt any eyewitnesses or that whoever might have happened to see or hear anything wasnīt willing to talk- no surprise at all, taking into account the identity of one of the victims- convinced Lex he himself would have to conduct a parallel investigation to discover what had happened in that garage and, more importantly, what Lionel had threatened Fairchild with.
Looking out of the passengerīs window the young CEO fastened his eyes on the second floor, where the lights were on. Jennifer had phoned him over two hours ago to give him the address he had requested, the address of a man he hadnīt set eyes on since the morning Lionel was acquitted when Chloe failed to appear in court.
Even though Lex knew what he had seen in that portrait, his inquisitive mind gave him no rest. He needed to talk to her, see her in the flesh to convince himself it wasnīt just a dream, but he couldnīt rush things and spoil it all. He had to plan their first meeting carefully. Meanwhile, heīd gather information on the late doctor and his young widow.
Security in the tenement wasnīt particularly strong- a weakness which allowed the billionaire to slip in through the front door without alerting the unsuspecting tenant of his visit. Although he kept fit with an hourīs training in the gym every morning and had fencing and boxing practice three times a week, Lex didnīt feel like chasing an uncooperative contact down those rusty fire escape ladders. `Strike when the victim least expects it.ī That was his motto.
Climbing up two narrow staircases he arrived on the floor where he was sure heīd get some of the answers he was looking for. Walking along the poorly-lit corridor he arrived at apartment #23 and rang the bell, making sure to step aside so that he couldnīt be seen clearly through the peephole. The noise of a dead bolt and then a chain was heard before the door opened just a crack. Seeing the window of opportunity the billionaire put one of his feet in the gap to prevent the man from slamming the door on his face and, leaning his body heavily against it, he pushed with all his might barging into the apartment and grabbing the former FBI agent by the shirt.
“Weīve got to talk,” gritted Lex, kicking the door shut and slamming Loder against the wall.
“Iīm done with you Luthors. You cost me my job. What else do you want from me?” spat the forty-something resisting Lexīs tight grip.
“Your incompetence cost you your job. I just signed your sentence and Iīll do a lot more if you donīt answer my questions to my satisfaction,” he responded, dragging him to a chair. “Chloe Sullivan”
“Iīll tell you what I told you three years ago. Both Miss Sullivan and her father died in the explosion. You saw the dental records yourself.”
“We both know they were fake. What did he have on you?” asked Lex through clenched teeth.
“I donīt know what youīre talking about, Luthor. Youīll just have to accept...” he began replying only to be cut off by Lionelīs first born.
“Donīt try my patience, Loder. My fatherīs dead now. Whatever hold he had on you is gone. Now tell me... did he come to see you before he died?” said Lex tensely.
The former agent seemed to relax a little as the news of Lionel Luthorīs demise sunk in and he eyed the intimidating heir at close range.
“He paid me a visit six months ago,” confessed the man.
“What did he want?”
“He was also interested in Miss Sullivan. I told him what I told you... but he was adamant. He forced me to... reveal the new identity the FBI had provided her with.”
“And you gave it to him?” exploded Lex. “I was right to have you fired. And Iīm starting to think I should have done a lot more.”
“I did nothing wrong. After all she was dead. She was no longer part of the programme. What use was there in my keeping that information to myself?” shrugged the man.
“You have the blood of another innocent man in your hands. You drove my father to her again. You left her a widow and a small child fatherless. If only you hadnīt been so sloppy when you were supposed to be protecting Miss Sullivan and her dad.”
“Sheīs... sheīs... alive?” mumbled the man with an appalled look on his face.
“I commend you for your intuition, Loder. Not that my father would have told you anything but... do you happen to have any idea why he was suddenly interested in locating Miss Sullivan?” he asked ironically.
“She must have had something he wanted,” replied the former agent, getting up from the chair and rubbing his neck.
“I surmised that much,” he glared.
“I swear I donīt know what it was,” responded the retired agent tightly.
“We both know the body thatīs lying in Smallvilleīs cemetery isnīt Miss Sullivanīs. Youīll tell me now who took her away from the safe house after the explosion and kept her buried for three years.”
He had had a suspicion of who the person behind the cover-up might be and Loder just confirmed it. He felt an inordinate rage at finding out heīd been kept in the dark for so long. Lex had never been one to put up well with betrayal; however, this one time he was willing to rein in his fury and wait for the man to explain his decision. Lex wanted to hate the traitor for having robbed him of happiness or, at least, of the relief of knowing Chloe was alive; and still... deep in his heart he knew he might have made a similar choice in his shoes.
Lex unlocked the car with his remote and, as he got in, dialled his office number on his mobile.
“Jennifer? I need you to compile a dossier on Mr and Mrs Philip Fairchild. I want to know everything thereīs to know about them, starting with how they met, how long they went out before they got married, where they work, who their friends are and their... enemies. Leave no stone unturned. Iīm particularly interested in knowing if the late doctor had any connections with LuthorCorp, any of my fatherīs ghost companies or old associates. Send the information to my laptop. Iīll be staying in Star City until the day after tomorrow. No, Iīll have him cremated. My motherīs memorial is not to be disturbed,” he finished gravely, snapping the phone shut and screeching away into the night.
TBC
ETA: By the way, thanks to those of you who voted my story and helped me win last monthīs challenge- The Safe House. If you havenīt read it yet, youīll find the link in my signature.
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Re: Back from the Dead (PG-13/R) 08/05/09
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Originally Posted by Booksketeer
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