Superman: Dawnbreaker (DC Icons #4)(68)

The Mankins representative straightened his tie and stepped to the microphone to resume his speech. “We’re okay, folks! Someone, bring those two some food! Seriously! We love everyone who’s come out to celebrate with us today….”

As the man went on, Clark pulled out his phone and tried reaching Lana yet again. This time his call went straight to her voice mail.

He could feel it in his gut: something was seriously wrong.

Clark put away his phone and hurried through the crowd. He cut across the wide lawn in front of city hall and the courthouse, which were separated by a narrow alley. City hall was loud and crowded with marching protesters. And police. The courthouse looked relatively quiet. There were several families on the lawn outside, but the building seemed empty.

Clark entered through the open front door and went from room to room, looking for Lana and Corey, but he found no one. A security guard approached him. “May I help you, young man?”

“I’m looking for a girl named Lana. She was coming here to interview Corey Mankins.”

“An interview?” The guard shook her head. “I wasn’t told anything about any interviews. You must be mistaken.”

“Corey Mankins set it up. Montgomery’s son.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “There’s nothing on the books. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Clark was stunned. Had Corey lied to Lana? And if he’d lied to her about the interview location…Fear rose in Clark’s throat as he turned to leave the small courthouse. On his way out, he peeked into all five rooms. None were occupied. No sign of Lana anywhere.

Outside the courthouse, he stood watching the crowd and thought, If Lana isn’t here, then where can she be?

He peered across the square, toward the stage area, trying to figure out what to do next. He scanned the entire area, then checked his phone again.

Nothing.

As Clark was putting away his phone, though, he spotted a small black duffel bag lying on top of an industrial trash bin. His entire body went cold.

Clark hurried over and unzipped the bag. Sure enough, the digital camera and the tripod were inside. Lana had been here—and someone had trashed her equipment. His heart pounded within his chest. He turned away from the bag and looked toward the alley. About halfway along the passageway, on the city hall side, a small staircase led down into the bowels of the building. He made a beeline for it and saw a door held open by a wooden block.

Had someone taken Lana in there?

Clark bounded down the stairs, quietly pulled open the door, and entered a long, dark corridor. He passed a large boiler room, then several empty concrete rooms. He heard the faint sound of water dripping and light footfalls in the distance. But no voices.

A few seconds later, a door creaked on its hinges in the distance. Clark moved at super-speed through the dark hall, catching the door just before it clicked closed. He held it there for several seconds, until the sound of the footsteps ahead of him had faded. Then he went through the doorway and down a short hall, where he encountered a closed red door. This was the end of the line. There were no other doors or hallways.

Clark hesitated. If he barged in and Lana got hurt, he’d never forgive himself.

But if he didn’t barge in and Lana got hurt, it’d be just as bad.

He slid a hand under his shirt to feel the slick blue material beneath. For whatever reason, it gave him strength. And confidence.

He had to go in and save Lana.

But he also had to be smart about it.

Clark turned to the solid concrete wall beside the door. He focused all his energy on his eyes until his vision pierced through and he could see inside. Two male figures were hovering over an object strapped to some pipework near the floor. They were moving nervously, with a kind of frenetic energy.

The object they were tinkering with beeped.

Clark’s heart sped up as he considered what the sound might mean.

It beeped again.

He strained to get a better look. Three long metal cylinders were strapped together with a small electrical device and a digital clock affixed to the front.

A bomb!

Clark’s mind went white with panic. His X-ray vision began cutting in and out, but he was able to determine two final details. Flashing red numbers were steadily ticking down.

9:39

9:38





9:37


And a small figure was tied to the pipework with a thick chain.

Lana!

She’d be the first to die.

Clark charged forward, blasting the red door so forcefully that it split into two twisted shards of metal as it exploded away from its hinges.

The men spun around in a panic.

One of them was Corey Mankins, whose face twisted in shock.

The other was a big, muscular man with a shaved head. He was dressed in black military fatigues.

Corey quickly regained his composure. He pulled a gun from his waistband and pointed it at the back of Lana’s head. “Stay where you are,” he demanded, “or your little girlfriend’s a goner.”

Lana was slumped forward, the chain tying her to the bomb the only thing keeping her upright. Blood trickled onto the floor from a bad gash near the top of her forehead.

Corey had hit her.

He’d actually hit her.

Clark saw red. He wanted to kill Corey. Wanted to bash his face in and rip his limbs off his body. Clark took a steadying breath, noticing Lana’s interview pad on the floor beside her. No, Lana wouldn’t want him to destroy Corey. She’d want him to get the truth.