Clark's body reacted faster than his reason. He stepped forward, scooped up Farnsworth's corpse, flew straight to the second-floor atrium, and rushed into the nearest room.
Clark was not stupid. He knew he had walked into a trap. Farnsworth had died right before his eyes, with no witnesses around. There was absolutely no way it was a coincidence. This would not be the end of one conspiracy, but the beginning of a whole chain of them.
Do not ask him how he knew. The Pharaoh's curse was acting up.
By his usual way of doing things, he should have believed that if he had not done it, then he had not done it. The Truth would come out, and his name would be cleared. So he should have stayed where he was.
But Clark was no longer the naïve man he had once been. He knew perfectly well that the military and politicians who had always been eyeing him like prey were the sort to stir up trouble even when they had no grounds to stand on. Lex Luthor, who was always targeting him, was no saint either. Every person attending today's banquet possessed the admirable ability to tell colossal lies without changing expression. They were best at sucking up to the powerful and turning respectful only after acting arrogant.
These people had painstakingly set this trap. Whether he could uncover the truth or not, he was doomed to be caught in it. He had no choice.
Even if he found evidence, even if the matter was eventually cleared up, their goal might not have been to send him to prison at all. They might simply have wanted to hold him here while they went off to do something else. Or perhaps the very process of searching for evidence would