Disclaimer -- All DC Comics Heroes are the property of DC Comics. Characters referred to in other media properties are theirs as well...I only own some the ideas here.
A/N -- when real world news hits close to my story, I attempt to incorperate it. But you guys already know that and expect nothing less from me, right?
Clark cleared customs at Tel Aviv International Airport without incident. Almost. The customs agents had searched his valise and found the compartment where he had thought about stowing his extra uniform. He felt relieved that he had decided to go with just the one he was wearing under his coat and tie. Of course now, he'd have to wash it and that presented problems all its own.
Rolling his valise along behind him, Clark shifted his laptop case around to the small of his back carrying it like a satchel. This would further wrinkle his blazer, but it was just too awkward to have the computer slung under his shoulder like a giant purse. He noticed how some of the seasoned professionals carried their computer bags supported by the extended handles of their wheeled-valises. Concluding that this was indeed the way best way to do it, he rearranged his bags once again and managed to bump into only two fellow travelers. The reporter offered apologies in three languages, but the others just scoffed at the rookie traveler and each went his own way.
The Daily Planet's travel agent had an efficiency room with a kitchenette reserved for Clark at a Marriot business travelers' hotel. He would have preferred to check in there later. Local time was early Sunday morning and the hotel would hold his room until evening. But he knew it would be unprofessional to bring his suitcase with all his clothes into the HQ of Mossad. This would actually be just the sort of thing he would have done as awkward, clumsy Clark before his alleged trip around the world. It occurred to him, that if he had really made that trip, he would have gained much more travel savvy than he had displayed a few moments ago. The reporter decided to check in first and moved off to hail a cab.
Seeing the security-screening his blackberrys, notepad and blazer were subjected to at Mossad HQ, Clark felt relieved that he had decided check-in, shower, change and most of all -- drop off his baggage. The agent examining the blackberrys remarked on the encryption used in his Other blackberry, the one not provided by the Daily Planet. He made an excuse about a journalist having to protect his sources, especially when they were high ranking officials like Deputy Director David. Of course the real reason was that all his Superman info was in there: private numbers for NASA, Batman, and the Black Canary, the secrets of Faster Than Light space-travel, stuff that couldn't be compromised. He put the PDAs back in his coat pocket and wished for the old days of paper note pad and pen.
Clark showed his press credentials and passport to yet another agent and finally made it in past the entryway into the lobby of the Mossad HQ in Tel Aviv. A seasoned-looking agent stood on the mezzanine deck a few feet away from the stairs, casually tapping the screen of his PDA. Agents in blazers and military personnel in desert camouflage rushed about carrying double locked briefcases handcuffed to their wrists. Granting that Sunday was the first day of the Israeli workweek, this place still seemed busier than he'd expected.
The grizzled agent from the mezzanine deck casually glanced up from his PDA and slowly made his way down the stairs and over to the Daily Planet reporter who was displaying both a Mossad HQ Visitors' badge and his Press Pass on his blazer lapel. Clark rolled back on his heels and almost started to whistle while waiting on the casual agent. "If that lapel gets any heavier, it'll pull you over. You must be Mr. Kent."
"Yup. That's me." Clark said in his aw-shucks Midwestern way; then mentally kicked himself: He really needed to rethink this awkward, geeky persona. Five years as a world traveler would have worn the edges off of most of that. The reporter extended a hand to shake with the agent. The Israeli clasped both of his behind his back and came to a stop just outside the American's arm's reach.
"Shall we?" he gestured toward an express elevator. "General David asked me to see that you got to him directly after entryway screening. His schedule has filled up dramatically in the last twenty-odd hours you spent traveling, but he did still want to squeeze in a quarter-hour or so with you."
"After you, then." Clark spoke crisply.
As many floors as the elevator went down, Clark half-expected to be blindfolded before he stepped out the front of the elevator. But the back of the elevator, which had appeared to be a wall moments ago, was what actually opened. Clark began to turn, but the agent shouldered him.
"Oooof! You're far denser than you look, Mr. Kent. What do you benchpress? About 160?"
"Kilos? Yes, about that." To warm up with, Clark thought but did not add.
"Just step backwards out of the elevator and keep your eyes front," the agent spoke in cautionary and official tone. "Once you clear the elevator, if you look to either side, your retinas will be lasered and the Israeli government will not pay to fix your eyes. Do you understand?"
"I was expecting to meet the General upstairs on the second deck in his public office. Not down here in spookland. What's going on?" Clark backed out of the elevator.
"I can't say." The agent stayed in the elevator and the wall closed back up and became a wall again.
The reported continued backing up and decided to close his eyes. He concentrated on his superhearing though and detected about three dozen white noise generators up and down the corridor. He continued backing up and heard the air pressure change around him and felt another wall whoosh up in front of him.
Then General David spoke. "You may turn around now and open your eyes, Mr Kent. You may have heard the term 'cone of silence'? Well, we're standing inside of one. Don't step too close to walls. The energy fields may singe your coat buttons off. Our scientists are still working on that."
"Thank you for your time, General. I'd like to start with- -"
"Yes, about that, I shall have to cut this meeting short." Despite his curtness, the General seemed almost apologetic. "We will shortly perform a High Definition Video Teleconference with the British Ministry of Defense. The SAS have asked us for an intelligence work up on Iran."
"Special Air Service? A rescue mission?" Clark asked incredulously? Had he and Rayner left someone behind in Iran?
"Sky News Channel reported that Iranian Seagoing Militias seized over a dozen British Royal Marines and Sailors on erev Shabbat, that's Friday night for westerners. Publicly, British Prime Minister Blair is negotiating." Clark whipped out his Daily Planet PDA and prepared to take notes with his stylus and touch screen. The General waved him off. "No notes, Mr. Kent. And do you remember that cup of water you drank while waiting in the vestibule?" The Mossad Leader paused for effect while Clark nodded, "It was laced with dozens of nanites which will all spontaneously combust if the ones in your head sense that you are in any way attempting to communicate anything about what you hear today that is not already in the press. They will pass harmlessly out of your system in no more than three days."
"Mossad has microscopic robots that can read my mind?" Kent was truly dumbfounded.
"Maybe we don't," General David smiled, "but are you prepared to take that chance, Mr. Kent?"
Clark took a breath and changed the subject, "Okay, that briefing with the British that I don't know about, will it be transmitted through the internet or by satellite?"
"You know I can't answer that," the Israeli answered.
"Okay." Clark thought for another moment and then tried another tack, "One of the stories I was working when I was yanked to cover the nuclear meltdown in Iran was about a computer virus detected in the main servers of the Very Large Array, a group of radio telescopes in the western deserts of the United States."
"I know what the VLA is, Mr. Kent; what's your point?" General David attempted to cut to the chase.
"The Astronomers at VLA said the virus escaped outside of their firewall. It appears to be infecting military and space agency related computers. I believe it may have been responsible for the error in the explosives calculations which led to your agents causing the meltdown at the Iranian nuclear weapons lab."
"Yes, about that meltdown," the General pulled a manila folder out of an inner pocket of his uniform jacket. He smoothed his tie and passed the folder to the reporter, "Here is an unclassified summary of what we can say about that melt down."
Kent, flipped through the pages dropping one. He stooped to pick it up, but a stray air current blew it close to the wall. The sheet of paper flared up into a flame and then vanished in a wisp of smoke and a dusting of ash. "General most of this blacked out. Fortunately that was one of the pages with only one legible line."
"I said it was declassified." the Mossad leader stated flatly. "I meant that. What else do you know about the VLA virus?"
Clark replied openly, "Only that Wayne Industries, which owns the Daily Planet, has brought in some serious hacker talent take on the virus in case it moves to commercial and private computer systems." He did not say out loud that he also believed the virus to be the work of the Brain InterActive Construct.
"That would explain why Thomas Andersson and Smith flew into Metropolis on Friday afternoon." The General remarked off the cuff.
"Do you people here watch everything in the world?" Clark asked once more aghast.
"The State of Israel does not have the luxury of Ostrich-itis that you have in the States. Our enemies are separated from us by chain-link fences, if we're lucky. Not by oceans."
"About this thing happening soon, that I don't know about. Would you like me to try to get in touch with Superman?" Clark asked. "I'm sure he would--"
General David cut him off, "Mr. Kent, given what is currently going on in Upstate New York with the American 10th Infantry Division and what just took place in Metropolis with several police officers burned severely with optical heat blasts, we have put the word out through the Amazons and the Atlanteans that the Kryptonian's assistance is not wanted. Prime Minister Blair of England put in a call to the Batcave to enlist the aid of the Bat in keeping him at bay, but apparently your American President was already on the line. Our Commander of Air Forces is trying to reach the rookie hero Green Lamp in place of the Bat--"
"You mean the one first sited at Edwards Air Force Base, General?" Clark asked.
"Nu, of course." The General answered.
"He's calling himself Green Lantern."
"Whatever, we believe he may be able to keep Supe—the Krptonian away using his power ring."
Clark's attention was no longer focused on the meeting. He wondered what could be going on again while he was out of the country. Kent was not surprised moments later to find himself back in the lobby not completely sure how he got there.
Back in his hotel room, Clark closed all the window shades. Then he changed out of his coat and tie. He used his heat vision to char the top layer of his crimson boots. He walked into the bathroom and used his shaving mirror, the regular mirror and his heat vision to give himself a quick hair cut. He took off more than he had in years. It was now very short all over. He used some gel on the top and left the sides and back looking neat and trim. He pulled on some plain black trousers and a black turtleneck over his crimson, yellow and blue uniform. As an after thought he added a pair of black Oakley sunglasses and a black trench coat. He pocketed his keys and his cell phones.
Outside his hotel in an alley way, Clark checked his sunglasses. He kenlt briefly on one knee, then touched the ground with a fist and leapt into the sky. He flew northwest across the Mediterranean Sea and over the Alps. He was headed for upstate New York to face off with the Bizarre imposter with his powers.