There were plenty of police reports of missing or dead children between the ages of infancy and sixth grade in Smallville. But none of them were of a white male child with dark hair and gray-green eyes, let alone a child with a name beginning "Cl." Clarence? Clifford? Clem? Clint? Clayton? Clearance? Cleaver? Klepto? Or maybe he was Lana's friend Chloe's evil twin with the same name? Lex decided that perhaps he'd had enough coffee, especially since he was expecting Lana in an hour.

He'd brought Maynard food earlier that afternoon and answered more questions about words and references. He'd only answered questions, not asking them, hoping to regain that moment of connection between them. Judging from the questions, Maynard was not stupid--he understood and applied new terms and concepts almost immediately--but was profoundly ignorant. Particularly, so it seemed, of politics and business. When he'd left again, Maynard had seemed subdued, almost despondent.

Lana came in, her dark hair swinging behind her like a shadow that was a fraction out of sync with the rest of her. He was able to respond much more enthusiastically to her greeting kiss than he had in her last one. She smelled of coffee and cream, as well as the almond soap she used, a combination that was both tempting and wholesome.

She perched on the edge of his desk and flashed a smile. "How's Maynard?"

"I thought I was on the track of something, but it fizzled out completely. He's some kind of professional assassin and saboteur, but seems genuinely convinced that he's acting for the greater good. I'm even inclined to believe he thinks it."

"So who's controlling him? And who sent him to get you? I don't think the Beanery is quite that sophisticated."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Bigger business. Starbucks. They know that I'm backing an ambitious coffee entrepreneur...No, I'd have found a carafe lid in my bed if it was Starbucks..." Even while she was laughing, he was becoming more sober. "God knows there are people who would break out the Veuve Cliquot if they saw my obituary, plenty more who would see it as giving my father a taste of his own medicine, but I've not been able to narrow it down. I had one lead, but it fizzled out."

"What was that?"

"I thought he had to be from Smallville and he inadvertantly gave me part of his name, but there weren't any missing people matching that description, let along the right start of the name. Assuming that his handlers didn't change his name."

"Inadvertantly?"

"Something like that." Another slight lift of the corner of his mouth.

"So what's the part he gave you?"

"Begins with 'Cl. But no record of any missing person with that name."

Lana thought for a moment. "Doesn't ring any bells. I'll ask Nell, though. Casually." After another moment's thought, she added, "Cl'Maynard. Sounds kind of space alien to me."

The house phone rang with two short buzzes.

"Mr. Luthor? Roberts here. We found an intruder. An armed intruder."

Lex was now convinced that he had seen everything. His own security staff, rather than a random staff member, Lana, or passer-by, had actually detected and blocked a threat to him. He was about to share this thought when he decided to wait until the intruder was identified and behind bars several zip codes away. His security could yet mess things up.

***

He'd put up a token argument about Lana coming with him to the security staff room, but knew the Jamaican bobsled's odds of winning were far better than his. But, like their efforts, his had to be made as well.

If Cl'Maynard, as Lex now found himself thinking of the young man, was a poster boy for All-American Assassin, this one looked like as though a model for Accountant's Weekly had been outfitted by Soldier of Fortune. His weedy frame might have been unprepossessing, but the arsenal on the table was an impressive array. Lex caught the alert intelligence in the man's eye and decided underestimating him would be a grave mistake, perhaps literally.

"Looking for someone?" Even in Smallville, home of mind-boggling coincidences, he couldn't believe that this new visitor wasn't connected to Cl'Maynard.

"This is a dangerous situation you've gotten yourself into, Mr. Luthor."

"Strange, I'm not the one in handcuffs here. You were trespassing and your little collection here suggests that it wasn't to leave a mint on everybody's pillow. Now what was it that you want?"

The man remained silent. Lana said, quietly, "He could be a decoy. There might be others behind him, or maybe he's hiding something else."

Lex leaned forward, his eyes only a few inches from the new stranger's. "Are you?" The man held his stony silence.

Lex straightened up. "Roberts, you heard what Miss Lang said. Secure the grounds, add extra patrols. I'll pay triple overtime. Search this one again. Then I'll take care of him." A fierce elbow prompted him to rephrase, even though Luthors were not supposed to correct themselves in public. "We'll take care of him." Lana had already picked up the man's automatic and was looking at it with mingled alarm and bravado.