A.J. would never have considered accepting Lex's invitation to
Smallville if Lionel was there. But now, as he looked out the window as
acres after acre of cornfields zipped by, he had to admit he was looking
forward to it. Over the phone Lex had assured him Lionel had left for
Metropolis that morning, and from there was heading to London to meet with
doctors.
He hadn't been in a limousine in years, and he'd forgotten how nice they were. Especially on a long trip. He leaned back on the plush seat and took a swig of the soda he'd found in the mini-fridge. Obviously the Luthors had had a little bit of customizing done, because there was also a television and a phone built into the console.
Well, when his brother did things, they were never halfway-he'd been learning that. The handful of times they'd gone to lunch, Lex had always arrived in one or another of his expensive cars and they'd always gotten the best table. It made A.J. wonder if maybe he wasn't wasting his money, letting it sit in a trust fund until he was twenty-one. But then, that had been his parents decision, not his own.
His parents. A.J. sighed. He still hadn't worked up enough courage to ask Lex for more details on his birth mother, and his mom hadn't had much more to tell him than Catherine had. Over a crackly long-distance phone line she'd only insisted she'd had no idea who either of them were, and expressed incredulity that he was related to the Luthors. He got the feeling Amber didn't have a very high opinion of Lionel Luthor, and wasn't too pleased with the results of her son's DNA test. She'd offered to come home, and it had taken the combined assurances of A.J. and Catherine to convince her that wasn't necessary.
Then there was the problem with the Luthors themselves. Lex had explained that finding his brother had been his own idea, not his father's. In fact, Lex had seemed to take a peculiar sort of pride that he hadn't yet shared the news with Lionel.
A.J. wondered what would happen when Lex's father did find out what his son had been up to, but truth be told he didn't really care. The more he thought about Lionel, the more determined he was not to have anything to do with him. It wasn't just because A.J. had been close to Henry Carter. It was also because he didn't think much of a man who'd pass off his illegitimate child for his friend to raise, and then lie to his son about where that child was. He was a little ashamed to admit it, but he couldn't even muster any sympathy for Lionel for going blind.
Of course Lionel probably wishes I was dead, he thought grimly to himself, so maybe what he told Lex wasn't entirely a lie.
The limo turned off the road and paused before a high gate. A security guard waved them through and they drove up a shady, tree-lined avenue. As they slowed to turn in to a circular drive, A.J. peered up at his brother's home. It made the huge house he'd grown up in look like a studio apartment. It also looked cold and gloomy, even against the blue Kansas sky.
Fortunately Lex was waiting for him in the stone entryway, and smiled as the car stopped and the driver opened A.J.s door.
"Glad you could make it." He glanced at his watch. "Two hours, forty minutes-record time from Metropolis. For the limo, anyway."
"But you've done it faster, right?" A.J. grinned.
"Maybe. Where are your bags?"
The younger man pointed at the overstuffed backpack slung on his shoulder. "This is it. I only have a week's break from school," he offered at Lex's skeptical look. "How many times will I need to change clothes? You didn't say you dress for dinner or anything."
"I don't," his brother laughed. "But if worse to comes to worse I can loan you a tux."
"There's nothing I love more than wearing a tux," A.J. retorted. "Hey, nice house, by the way."
He followed Lex through the heavy oak doors and into a cavernous hallway. He'd been right-it was cold. Oil portraits of depressing looking people starred down from the walls, and a suit of armor stood guard at the bottom of a massive staircase.
"So where's Quasimoto?"
"He's in the dungeon with Frankenstein's monster," Lex grinned. "C'mon, I'll show you upstairs. And stick close so you don't get lost."
"Don't worry," he assured his brother. "I've got a great sense of direction. And I really hope you were kidding about the dungeon."
Lex only smiled.
"I told the housekeeper to put you in the east wing; that's pretty much the only part of the upstairs I use. Of course, my father keeps a suite of rooms in the north wing."
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder, huh?"
"Not in our case, I'm afraid." Lex paused in front of a paneled door and opened it, stepping into a spacious room decorated in red. "How's this?"
A.J. gingerly set his backpack down on the oriental carpet. "Fine, I guess. Uh, where are you?"
Lex laughed. "Fourth door down, on the left. Why don't you leave your things here; the servants will unpack for you. We'll go down to the library and shot some pool."
"You don't have to work?" A.J. knew Lex was trying to establish his own business. His brother talked about LexCorp the way other people might talk about a new baby, even though so far it only consisted of one fertilizer factory. Lex hadn't admitted it, but A.J. had a feeling this, too, was tied up in his relationship with Lionel.
"No, I'm taking some time off," Lex assured him.
"Look, don't let me disrupt your routine or anything," A.J. said as he followed Lex back down the stairs. "Catherine's only condition for this visit is that I don't make a nuisance of myself."
"Don't worry about it. I promised her I'd take good care of you."
"'Take care of me'? That makes it sound like I'm six years old."
The library turned out to be a large space, open to a second floor gallery and dominated by stained glass windows. In the center of one window, he couldn't help but notice, someone had embedded the letter "L."
"Nice touch. Very.medieval." A.J. offered.
"This is the oldest part of the house--seventeenth century, supposedly. Of course Lionel had a lot of it modified when he moved it here," Lex explained when he noticed A.J.'s frown. "If you believe him, this is my- our-ancestral home."
His brother sighed. "Lex, I won't lie to you, I'm still a little weirded out by this whole thing. And being here."
"Doesn't help. I know." Lex took two pool cues down from the custom- made wall rack. "Just think of it as staying in an expensive, drafty hotel. That's what I do."
He held out a cue to his younger brother with a smile. "Now, do you want stripes or solids?" ****************************************
"We need to come up with something sharp for next week's headline, guys," Chloe said as she leaned back in her chair. "'Lunch menu follows new nutritional guidelines'" just isn't going to cut it."
Clark rolled his eyes and took a sip of his latte. Chloe had decided to hold their twice-weekly staff meeting in the Talon so they could all refuel on caffeine before heading back to the office. But the news was the same.
"Nothing's shaking in town, Chloe," Pete answered. "For once we get five minutes of peace and quiet around here and you're complaining?"
"I'm only thinking of the good of the paper," Chloe retorted. "We have a reputation to uphold."
Clark didn't bother adding that the reputation was based largely around Chloe's meteor theories and the strange things that happened in town. It wasn't exactly Daily Planet material, although Chloe always had lots of facts to back up her stories. Stories that, unfortunately, sometimes got a little too close for comfort, like her digging into his adoption. He'd forgiven her for that, knowing she'd only wanted to help. But it still served as a useful reminder about being careful.
"Maybe Principal Reynolds is right and we should tone things down a little," Clark offered. "Most other high school papers don't feature investigative journalism as part of the regular routine."
"Clark, just because Reynolds has been on your case doesn't mean I'm going to turn the Torch into one of those bland teen rags that only report on the new cheerleaders' uniforms. The Torch is the one source of honest news in this burg, and it's our duty as the fourth estate to keep providing it."
"We could maybe do a follow-up," Pete suggested. "Revisit one of our past stories as a sort of 'where-are-they-now.'"
"I wouldn't want to be redundant." Chloe chewed on the tip of her pencil. "But that might work." She tried to flag down Lana, who was serving customers behind the bar.
"How about covering the tornado? You know, what's been rebuilt, what hasn't?" Clark offered.
"Snooze fest, man," Pete shook his head. "We need something flashier than that."
"Hey, I'm open to suggestions," Cark shrugged.
Chloe made another attempt to attract Lana's attention, and finally gave up and stood. "I'm in serious need of a refill. You guys want anything?"
When they shook their heads she grabbed her mug and whirled around to head for the counter. As usual, however, she wasn't paying attention to where she was going and promptly collided with another patron. A tidal wave of coffee sloshed out of his cup and over his hand.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" Chloe grabbed some napkins from their table and frantically dabbed at the young man's hand. "Did you get burned?"
The boy smiled. Clark hadn't seen him around before, but something about that smile seemed vaguely familiar.
"No. Fortunately for you it was iced coffee. Or else I'd have to sue," he laughed.
Chloe turned a becoming shade of pink. "I really am sorry. Let me buy you another one." She waved at Lana again, and this time the other girl saw her and hurried over.
"Is something wrong?"
"No." the boy started, but Chloe quickly interrupted him.
"Lana, would you get him another iced coffee? I just spilled it all over him."
Lana eyed the black liquid splashed on the table and floor. "Sure. I'll get some more napkins, too. That was black with sugar, right?"
"Yeah, but you don't have to."
But Lana had already left.
"You've got to be quicker than that around here," Pete counseled. "Or these women will run right over you."
Chloe smiled at the newcomer. "Don't listen to him; Pete's always joking. I'm Chloe, and that's Clark over there."
"I'm A.J."
Clark instantly recognized the name, but fortunately Chloe knew nothing about the story. She only made a face.
"A.J. like the Backstreet Boy?"
"No, A.J. like my grandfather. Andrew, actually, but nobody calls me that."
"Hey, why don't you sit down?" Clark pulled out the chair next to him. "Unless you need to be somewhere."
"No, just killing some time 'til my ride shows up." A.J. accepted the chair, and Clark took a moment to examine him surreptitiously. He didn't look much like Lex, except around the eyes, but his smile had did remind Clark of his friend. As Lex had said, the boy did look like Lionel Luthor. Enough so that seeing them side-by-side would probably be enough for anyone to figure out their connection.
Clark hastily cleared his throat as Lana reappeared with fresh coffee. "Hey, Lana, how are things?"
She gave him that radiant smile that always turned his stomach upside down. "Good, Clark. Business is up again, as you can see."
"Don't let them run you off your feet, Lana," Pete counseled. "Happiness before profit, right?"
"Tell that to Lex," Lana laughed. "I'd better get back to the counter; I'll talk to you guys later."
"Keeping the Talon going means a lot to Lana," Chloe explained for A.J.'s benefit. "It was kind of her idea and she's worked really hard to keep it going."
"But Lex Luthor put up the money." Pete got the same expression he always had when speaking of the Luthors-as if he smelled something unpleasant. "You know who he is, right?"
Clark looked fearfully at the newcomer, but A.J. only smiled and sipped his drink.
"I do, actually. That's who I'm staying with here."
Chloe looked at him curiously. "Yeah? How do you know each other?"
Clark seriously considered speeding across the room and pulling the fire alarm to put an end to Chloe's line of questioning, but A.J. answered calmly.
"Our fathers know each other."
"Oh." Chloe smiled. Pete looked like he wished he could slide his chair further away from A.J. out of sheer principle.
"So you're from Metropolis, then?" Chloe took a sip of her drink. "I'm from there, too."
"Yes and no. I've only lived in Metropolis a few months; I grew up in Central City."
"Ah, the Great White North," she joked.
A.J. grinned at her.
"It isn't really that cold. At least, most of the time it isn't. Being on the lake can make it seem colder than it is."
"Where do you go to school?"
"Are we playing twenty questions?"
"I'm a journalist. I like to know things."
"Yeah? Where do you work?"
"The Smallville Torch, best high school paper in town."
"Only one, too," Pete interjected. He was still radiating hostility, and the longer A.J. talked to Chloe the more irritated he seemed to get.
"I go to a place called the Dallek School," the other boy offered. "Ever heard of it?"
Chloe whistled. "Sure. One of the kids on my old block used to go there. But you have to be, like, a genius to get in. Did you have to take an IQ test?"
A.J. ducked his head a little, clearly embarrassed by the line of questioning.
"Of course not. Those are totally unreliable. But I had to go through a couple of rounds of interviews, and even then I only got in this year."
"But you got in," Clark said. "That's pretty cool. So, um, where is Lex?" Clark knew so far the two had limited their contact to phone calls and a few lunches. He was more than a little surprised that Lex had taken the risk of bringing A.J. to Smallville. But then his mom always said Lex had the soul of a gambler.
"At the plant," the boy explained. "He lasted about a day and a half without checking in, so I told him to just drop me downtown and come and get me later. I didn't expect to find such a nice way to kill time, though."
He smiled, and Chloe blushed again.
Pete stood abruptly and grabbed his jacket. "I forgot-I promised my mom I'd swing by the courthouse and help her out for awhile."
"Now? Pete, you haven't even finished your coffee," Clark frowned.
"Suddenly I'm not very thirsty anymore. I'll catch up with you guys later at the Torch." Pete grabbed his backpack and turned on his heel, leaving Chloe gapping after him.
"Wow, wonder what got into him all of a sudden?" She quickly turned her attention back to A.J. "So tell me more about your school. It must be awesome."
As the other two talked about school and about Metropolis, Clark finished his own drink gloomily. He had a pretty good feeling what had made Pete so angry. Pete had grown up hating the Luthors, and by proxy people who associated with them. And to see Chloe hanging on A.J.s every word the way she was must have been more than he could take. The Ross family had good reason for feeling the way they did, but Clark still hated to see his oldest friend get so upset.
He was just glad Pete didn't know who A.J. really was. Then things might have really gotten ugly.
**********************************************
In the reflection of the aquarium Catherine Carter smoothed her lapel. The invitation had been unexpected, to see the least, but at least she'd had a proper suit jacket in her locker to throw on.
The LuthorCorp offices were about what she would have expected: all polished granite and glass, just like the tower that housed them. The aquarium she couldn't quite account for, unless the decorator had thought it would make people more relaxed as they waited to be summoned into the inner sanctum. She couldn't really say it was working for her. And, surely, sharks would have been more appropriate than the multi-colored tropical fish now swimming mindlessly in their floor-to-ceiling enclosure.
"Dr. Carter? Mr. Luthor will see you now."
A thin man in an expensive looking suit stood holding the door open for her, and she reluctantly followed his summons.
The spacious office was done in tasteful shades of blue and gray, with a breathtaking vista of downtown Metropolis outside the glass windows. A desk sat on one side, with chairs in front of it, but the room also boasted an expensive antique settee and two matching chairs, carefully coordinated into the room's color scheme.
Lionel Luthor sat in one of the two chairs, and she was shown to the other one.
Luthor himself rose, leaning only slightly on his cane.
"Dr. Carter, so glad you could come on such short notice." He held out a hand, and Catherine shook it politely. She took a moment to study him. He didn't look very different from what she remembered, although there was now gray in his beard and in his long hair. Dark glasses covered his wounded eyes. She knew the lack of eye movement that could follow total or partial blindness often distracted and upset sighted people; this was probably why Lionel had opted for the glasses. To at once cover his injury and enhance his competitive edge.
"Please, sit down. Charles, would you bring in the tea, please?"
"Yes, Mr. Luthor." The cadaverous looking servant hurried away.
"I hope Darjeeling will be all right," Luthor said with a smile as he resumed his seat. But he didn't give her a chance to answer. "It's been a very long time, hasn't it? The last time we met must have been at your stepfather's funeral."
Catherine sat down as well. "That's right."
"I'm told you look a great deal like your mother. She was a very beautiful woman."
"She still is," Cate corrected.
The servant reappeared with a bone china tea set on a tray. He laid out the teapot and all the accoutrements on a spindly-legged Louis XIV table next to the settee.
"And do you ever hear from your father?" Her host asked as he was given a cup of steaming brew.
"Milk or lemon, miss?" The cadaver asked.
"Neither, thank you." She reluctantly accepted a dainty cup. "And, no, I don't." She knew Luthor was needling her on purpose, but to what end she wasn't quite sure.
But, as they said, the best defense was a good offense.
"Since you don't seem to have any qualms about asking me very personal questions, Mr. Luthor, let me ask you one. Did Henry know A.J. was your son?"
Luthor only smiled, and waved away the servant with his free hand. The other man promptly disappeared through a door at the far end of the room.
"You're direct, aren't you? Something else you got from your mother. I must confess I always found Amber rather lacking in tact."
Catherine sipped her tea. "You didn't answer my question." She'd known men like Lionel Luthor her whole life, and she wasn't about to be intimidated by him.
Lionel smiled again.
"What do you think?"
She was thoughtful for a long moment.
"I don't think he did. He might have suspected it, but if he'd known for sure he would have told Amber. And sooner or later Amber would have told me."
Luthor drank his tea in enigmatic silence.
"I suppose you asked me here to discuss the situation with A.J."
"In a manner of speaking." Lionel set his cup down on the side table, carefully feeling for the edge so the cup wouldn't fall on the Aubusson carpet. "I understand you've been permitting your brother to spend time with my son."
Cate leaned back in the uncomfortable chair as best she could. "I have. They want to get to know each other. I don't see any harm in it."
"Ah, but there may be a great deal of harm in it, Dr. Carter. I'm afraid Alexander is, well, shall we say, unlikely to be a good influence on him." He rose and moved with confidence across what must be, to him, a familiar room, and stood facing the warm sun from the windows.
Catherine shook her head. "Mr. Luthor, I had to leave work to be here. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't be so cryptic."
Lionel folded his hands behind his back. "You may not believe this, but I considered your stepfather my friend. I know he thought very highly of you, and I'm sure you and your mother have done your best to raise Andrew as Henry would have wanted. I would hate to see Lex's irresponsible behavior undermine that." He moved back across the room to where she sat.
"Dr. Carter, my son has spent most of his life getting into trouble. Only my considerable influence has kept him from the consequences of his actions."
Cate set down her cup and took a deep breath.
"What kind of trouble?"
Smiling, Luthor gestured to the teapot.
"Pour us both another cup, my dear, and I'll tell you." **************************************************
Gabe Sullivan tucked his clipboard under his arm and stepped out into the gloomy sunshine. Around him, Lex Corp Plant No. 3, housed in its complex of buildings, hummed. He hadn't quite gotten used to the new name and logo, but he reckoned it would grow on him. The important thing was, he still had a job. And so did the several hundred other people who either worked in the plant or were directly dependant on it.
He checked to make sure the latest shipment of nitrates was on the loading dock. A dozen or so men were transferring the bags onto wooden pallets. It would take a small army of forklifts to move the bags down to the manufacturing part of the complex.
Gabe grinned. Most people thought fertilizer was just glorified animal offal. Maybe thirty years ago it had been, but now it was more high-tech chemicals than organic material. After all, that was why Lionel Luthor, the so-called "Pesticide King," had gotten into the business in the first place-it had been a convenient and profitable outlet for chemicals his other subsidiaries already produced. But handling those chemicals took a skilled and aware workforce, if accidents were to be avoided.
"Take it easy there," he advised one man as he heaved a bag onto the pallet. "Watch your back-we don't need any workman's comp claims around here."
"Ain't that the truth," another worker, Casey, smiled.
Gabe glanced around him and frowned.
"Where's Jim Winters? He's transportation foreman; he should be supervising the move."
"Jim's in the bathroom, boss. Thinks it was something he ate," one of the other employees said with a grin.
A moment later, however, Winters himself appeared, looking pale and a little shaky.
"Jim, how are you feeling? I gotta say, you don't look too good."
"I'm fine, Gabe. Just a touch of something. It'll pass in a minute. Probably overdoing it on the new house, is all."
His supervisor frowned. "Well, if you get to feeling worse, go to the dispensary. Moving these bags isn't as important as your health." He thumbed through the papers on the clipboard. "I'd better get these rec forms up to Mr. Luthor."
"Is he here? Thought the dude was finally taking some time off," Casey complained.
"He's only in for an hour or two, just to check on things," Gabe explained cheerfully. Any other man would probably resent a boss who was around so much, but it wasn't in Gabe's nature to complain. And Lex Luthor actually listened to his suggestions, which was more than Lionel Luthor had ever done.
Gabe headed back to the main building that housed the offices, as far away from the chemical storage as was possible. The loading crew went back to work, but in minutes it became clear Jim wasn't fit to work. He leaned against the edge of the loading dock, breathing hard.
One of his men reached out to touch his clammy hand.
"Jim, you're ice cold. Man, we'd better get you inside."
The other man shook his head, as if to clear it.
"No, I was fine this morning," he gasped. "I.I."
While the other men looked on in horror, he slumped to the ground.
Casey rushed to his side, waving frantically at the others.
"Someone call 911-it must be a heart attack."
Casey rolled his friend onto his back, and recoiled in horror. Jim's face had turned a pale white, but the skin around his lips was blue. His eyes were open, and he looked up at him with stark terror written across his face.
"Hang on, buddy," one of the other men counseled as he kneeled next to his prone friend. "Eddie's calling the ambulance."
It seemed an eternity before the emergency crew arrived. Casey briefed the paramedics and helped load his friend into the back. They had to push through a crowd of curious LexCorp employees that had gathered around them.
"Call.Molly." Jim whispered to his friend.
"I'll have her meet you at the hospital," Casey promised. He stood back as the ambulance doors were slammed shut.
Gabe Sullivan, who had hurried out from his office at the sound of the sirens, clapped him on the back. "I'm sure he'll be fine."
Casey shook his head. He wasn't usually a fanciful kind of person, but something about the metallic clang of those doors closing had seemed horribly final.
It was a weekday, and with lights flashing and siren blaring they were able to make it to Smallville General in record time. Jim was rushed into the small emergency room.
"Male.forty-six years old.collapsed at work.possible heart attack." the paramedic reported as the attending physician and the nurses quickly went to work, attaching monitors and checking his responses.
A doctor leaned over him to try and attach an IV, and Jim's hand twisted in the fabric of her white coat.
"Help.me.can't.breathe."
Jim's eyes moved to from her face to the ceiling and back again frantically.
Suddenly his back arched as his body went rigid, and then he was still.
"He's stopped breathing," someone said.
As the monitors shrieked, the doctor felt for a pulse, but found nothing. She laid a hand on the man's jaw to open his mouth, and as she did so greenish black fluid poured out. What seemed to be gallons of the foul-smelling stuff ran out of Jim's mouth to pool on around his body and onto the floor as she instinctively stepped away.
"What in the.?" She looked helplessly at the other hospital staff.
One of the nurses shook his head.
"I've never seen anything like that, man."
"What if it's contagious?" someone else whispered.
"We have to keep working on him."
The doctor shouted out orders, but her staff was too afraid to move. Finally someone grabbed the paddles and they attempted to shock his heart back into motion. The effort proved futile; none of their attempts budged the flat green line on the monitor.
The doctor stepped back with a sigh, thankful her latex gloves had been between her and the viscous black fluid.
"Whatever it was, it sure wasn't a heart attack," she announced to no one in particular.
The staff looked silently at each other.
"Where did you bring him in from?" One of the nurses asked the paramedic.
The young man tore his eyes away from the body.
"The LuthorCorp plant. Or whatever it's called now."
The attending physician nodded grimly. "All right, let's get Dr. Evans down here ASAP. Tell him we've got a situation on our hands."
He hadn't been in a limousine in years, and he'd forgotten how nice they were. Especially on a long trip. He leaned back on the plush seat and took a swig of the soda he'd found in the mini-fridge. Obviously the Luthors had had a little bit of customizing done, because there was also a television and a phone built into the console.
Well, when his brother did things, they were never halfway-he'd been learning that. The handful of times they'd gone to lunch, Lex had always arrived in one or another of his expensive cars and they'd always gotten the best table. It made A.J. wonder if maybe he wasn't wasting his money, letting it sit in a trust fund until he was twenty-one. But then, that had been his parents decision, not his own.
His parents. A.J. sighed. He still hadn't worked up enough courage to ask Lex for more details on his birth mother, and his mom hadn't had much more to tell him than Catherine had. Over a crackly long-distance phone line she'd only insisted she'd had no idea who either of them were, and expressed incredulity that he was related to the Luthors. He got the feeling Amber didn't have a very high opinion of Lionel Luthor, and wasn't too pleased with the results of her son's DNA test. She'd offered to come home, and it had taken the combined assurances of A.J. and Catherine to convince her that wasn't necessary.
Then there was the problem with the Luthors themselves. Lex had explained that finding his brother had been his own idea, not his father's. In fact, Lex had seemed to take a peculiar sort of pride that he hadn't yet shared the news with Lionel.
A.J. wondered what would happen when Lex's father did find out what his son had been up to, but truth be told he didn't really care. The more he thought about Lionel, the more determined he was not to have anything to do with him. It wasn't just because A.J. had been close to Henry Carter. It was also because he didn't think much of a man who'd pass off his illegitimate child for his friend to raise, and then lie to his son about where that child was. He was a little ashamed to admit it, but he couldn't even muster any sympathy for Lionel for going blind.
Of course Lionel probably wishes I was dead, he thought grimly to himself, so maybe what he told Lex wasn't entirely a lie.
The limo turned off the road and paused before a high gate. A security guard waved them through and they drove up a shady, tree-lined avenue. As they slowed to turn in to a circular drive, A.J. peered up at his brother's home. It made the huge house he'd grown up in look like a studio apartment. It also looked cold and gloomy, even against the blue Kansas sky.
Fortunately Lex was waiting for him in the stone entryway, and smiled as the car stopped and the driver opened A.J.s door.
"Glad you could make it." He glanced at his watch. "Two hours, forty minutes-record time from Metropolis. For the limo, anyway."
"But you've done it faster, right?" A.J. grinned.
"Maybe. Where are your bags?"
The younger man pointed at the overstuffed backpack slung on his shoulder. "This is it. I only have a week's break from school," he offered at Lex's skeptical look. "How many times will I need to change clothes? You didn't say you dress for dinner or anything."
"I don't," his brother laughed. "But if worse to comes to worse I can loan you a tux."
"There's nothing I love more than wearing a tux," A.J. retorted. "Hey, nice house, by the way."
He followed Lex through the heavy oak doors and into a cavernous hallway. He'd been right-it was cold. Oil portraits of depressing looking people starred down from the walls, and a suit of armor stood guard at the bottom of a massive staircase.
"So where's Quasimoto?"
"He's in the dungeon with Frankenstein's monster," Lex grinned. "C'mon, I'll show you upstairs. And stick close so you don't get lost."
"Don't worry," he assured his brother. "I've got a great sense of direction. And I really hope you were kidding about the dungeon."
Lex only smiled.
"I told the housekeeper to put you in the east wing; that's pretty much the only part of the upstairs I use. Of course, my father keeps a suite of rooms in the north wing."
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder, huh?"
"Not in our case, I'm afraid." Lex paused in front of a paneled door and opened it, stepping into a spacious room decorated in red. "How's this?"
A.J. gingerly set his backpack down on the oriental carpet. "Fine, I guess. Uh, where are you?"
Lex laughed. "Fourth door down, on the left. Why don't you leave your things here; the servants will unpack for you. We'll go down to the library and shot some pool."
"You don't have to work?" A.J. knew Lex was trying to establish his own business. His brother talked about LexCorp the way other people might talk about a new baby, even though so far it only consisted of one fertilizer factory. Lex hadn't admitted it, but A.J. had a feeling this, too, was tied up in his relationship with Lionel.
"No, I'm taking some time off," Lex assured him.
"Look, don't let me disrupt your routine or anything," A.J. said as he followed Lex back down the stairs. "Catherine's only condition for this visit is that I don't make a nuisance of myself."
"Don't worry about it. I promised her I'd take good care of you."
"'Take care of me'? That makes it sound like I'm six years old."
The library turned out to be a large space, open to a second floor gallery and dominated by stained glass windows. In the center of one window, he couldn't help but notice, someone had embedded the letter "L."
"Nice touch. Very.medieval." A.J. offered.
"This is the oldest part of the house--seventeenth century, supposedly. Of course Lionel had a lot of it modified when he moved it here," Lex explained when he noticed A.J.'s frown. "If you believe him, this is my- our-ancestral home."
His brother sighed. "Lex, I won't lie to you, I'm still a little weirded out by this whole thing. And being here."
"Doesn't help. I know." Lex took two pool cues down from the custom- made wall rack. "Just think of it as staying in an expensive, drafty hotel. That's what I do."
He held out a cue to his younger brother with a smile. "Now, do you want stripes or solids?" ****************************************
"We need to come up with something sharp for next week's headline, guys," Chloe said as she leaned back in her chair. "'Lunch menu follows new nutritional guidelines'" just isn't going to cut it."
Clark rolled his eyes and took a sip of his latte. Chloe had decided to hold their twice-weekly staff meeting in the Talon so they could all refuel on caffeine before heading back to the office. But the news was the same.
"Nothing's shaking in town, Chloe," Pete answered. "For once we get five minutes of peace and quiet around here and you're complaining?"
"I'm only thinking of the good of the paper," Chloe retorted. "We have a reputation to uphold."
Clark didn't bother adding that the reputation was based largely around Chloe's meteor theories and the strange things that happened in town. It wasn't exactly Daily Planet material, although Chloe always had lots of facts to back up her stories. Stories that, unfortunately, sometimes got a little too close for comfort, like her digging into his adoption. He'd forgiven her for that, knowing she'd only wanted to help. But it still served as a useful reminder about being careful.
"Maybe Principal Reynolds is right and we should tone things down a little," Clark offered. "Most other high school papers don't feature investigative journalism as part of the regular routine."
"Clark, just because Reynolds has been on your case doesn't mean I'm going to turn the Torch into one of those bland teen rags that only report on the new cheerleaders' uniforms. The Torch is the one source of honest news in this burg, and it's our duty as the fourth estate to keep providing it."
"We could maybe do a follow-up," Pete suggested. "Revisit one of our past stories as a sort of 'where-are-they-now.'"
"I wouldn't want to be redundant." Chloe chewed on the tip of her pencil. "But that might work." She tried to flag down Lana, who was serving customers behind the bar.
"How about covering the tornado? You know, what's been rebuilt, what hasn't?" Clark offered.
"Snooze fest, man," Pete shook his head. "We need something flashier than that."
"Hey, I'm open to suggestions," Cark shrugged.
Chloe made another attempt to attract Lana's attention, and finally gave up and stood. "I'm in serious need of a refill. You guys want anything?"
When they shook their heads she grabbed her mug and whirled around to head for the counter. As usual, however, she wasn't paying attention to where she was going and promptly collided with another patron. A tidal wave of coffee sloshed out of his cup and over his hand.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" Chloe grabbed some napkins from their table and frantically dabbed at the young man's hand. "Did you get burned?"
The boy smiled. Clark hadn't seen him around before, but something about that smile seemed vaguely familiar.
"No. Fortunately for you it was iced coffee. Or else I'd have to sue," he laughed.
Chloe turned a becoming shade of pink. "I really am sorry. Let me buy you another one." She waved at Lana again, and this time the other girl saw her and hurried over.
"Is something wrong?"
"No." the boy started, but Chloe quickly interrupted him.
"Lana, would you get him another iced coffee? I just spilled it all over him."
Lana eyed the black liquid splashed on the table and floor. "Sure. I'll get some more napkins, too. That was black with sugar, right?"
"Yeah, but you don't have to."
But Lana had already left.
"You've got to be quicker than that around here," Pete counseled. "Or these women will run right over you."
Chloe smiled at the newcomer. "Don't listen to him; Pete's always joking. I'm Chloe, and that's Clark over there."
"I'm A.J."
Clark instantly recognized the name, but fortunately Chloe knew nothing about the story. She only made a face.
"A.J. like the Backstreet Boy?"
"No, A.J. like my grandfather. Andrew, actually, but nobody calls me that."
"Hey, why don't you sit down?" Clark pulled out the chair next to him. "Unless you need to be somewhere."
"No, just killing some time 'til my ride shows up." A.J. accepted the chair, and Clark took a moment to examine him surreptitiously. He didn't look much like Lex, except around the eyes, but his smile had did remind Clark of his friend. As Lex had said, the boy did look like Lionel Luthor. Enough so that seeing them side-by-side would probably be enough for anyone to figure out their connection.
Clark hastily cleared his throat as Lana reappeared with fresh coffee. "Hey, Lana, how are things?"
She gave him that radiant smile that always turned his stomach upside down. "Good, Clark. Business is up again, as you can see."
"Don't let them run you off your feet, Lana," Pete counseled. "Happiness before profit, right?"
"Tell that to Lex," Lana laughed. "I'd better get back to the counter; I'll talk to you guys later."
"Keeping the Talon going means a lot to Lana," Chloe explained for A.J.'s benefit. "It was kind of her idea and she's worked really hard to keep it going."
"But Lex Luthor put up the money." Pete got the same expression he always had when speaking of the Luthors-as if he smelled something unpleasant. "You know who he is, right?"
Clark looked fearfully at the newcomer, but A.J. only smiled and sipped his drink.
"I do, actually. That's who I'm staying with here."
Chloe looked at him curiously. "Yeah? How do you know each other?"
Clark seriously considered speeding across the room and pulling the fire alarm to put an end to Chloe's line of questioning, but A.J. answered calmly.
"Our fathers know each other."
"Oh." Chloe smiled. Pete looked like he wished he could slide his chair further away from A.J. out of sheer principle.
"So you're from Metropolis, then?" Chloe took a sip of her drink. "I'm from there, too."
"Yes and no. I've only lived in Metropolis a few months; I grew up in Central City."
"Ah, the Great White North," she joked.
A.J. grinned at her.
"It isn't really that cold. At least, most of the time it isn't. Being on the lake can make it seem colder than it is."
"Where do you go to school?"
"Are we playing twenty questions?"
"I'm a journalist. I like to know things."
"Yeah? Where do you work?"
"The Smallville Torch, best high school paper in town."
"Only one, too," Pete interjected. He was still radiating hostility, and the longer A.J. talked to Chloe the more irritated he seemed to get.
"I go to a place called the Dallek School," the other boy offered. "Ever heard of it?"
Chloe whistled. "Sure. One of the kids on my old block used to go there. But you have to be, like, a genius to get in. Did you have to take an IQ test?"
A.J. ducked his head a little, clearly embarrassed by the line of questioning.
"Of course not. Those are totally unreliable. But I had to go through a couple of rounds of interviews, and even then I only got in this year."
"But you got in," Clark said. "That's pretty cool. So, um, where is Lex?" Clark knew so far the two had limited their contact to phone calls and a few lunches. He was more than a little surprised that Lex had taken the risk of bringing A.J. to Smallville. But then his mom always said Lex had the soul of a gambler.
"At the plant," the boy explained. "He lasted about a day and a half without checking in, so I told him to just drop me downtown and come and get me later. I didn't expect to find such a nice way to kill time, though."
He smiled, and Chloe blushed again.
Pete stood abruptly and grabbed his jacket. "I forgot-I promised my mom I'd swing by the courthouse and help her out for awhile."
"Now? Pete, you haven't even finished your coffee," Clark frowned.
"Suddenly I'm not very thirsty anymore. I'll catch up with you guys later at the Torch." Pete grabbed his backpack and turned on his heel, leaving Chloe gapping after him.
"Wow, wonder what got into him all of a sudden?" She quickly turned her attention back to A.J. "So tell me more about your school. It must be awesome."
As the other two talked about school and about Metropolis, Clark finished his own drink gloomily. He had a pretty good feeling what had made Pete so angry. Pete had grown up hating the Luthors, and by proxy people who associated with them. And to see Chloe hanging on A.J.s every word the way she was must have been more than he could take. The Ross family had good reason for feeling the way they did, but Clark still hated to see his oldest friend get so upset.
He was just glad Pete didn't know who A.J. really was. Then things might have really gotten ugly.
**********************************************
In the reflection of the aquarium Catherine Carter smoothed her lapel. The invitation had been unexpected, to see the least, but at least she'd had a proper suit jacket in her locker to throw on.
The LuthorCorp offices were about what she would have expected: all polished granite and glass, just like the tower that housed them. The aquarium she couldn't quite account for, unless the decorator had thought it would make people more relaxed as they waited to be summoned into the inner sanctum. She couldn't really say it was working for her. And, surely, sharks would have been more appropriate than the multi-colored tropical fish now swimming mindlessly in their floor-to-ceiling enclosure.
"Dr. Carter? Mr. Luthor will see you now."
A thin man in an expensive looking suit stood holding the door open for her, and she reluctantly followed his summons.
The spacious office was done in tasteful shades of blue and gray, with a breathtaking vista of downtown Metropolis outside the glass windows. A desk sat on one side, with chairs in front of it, but the room also boasted an expensive antique settee and two matching chairs, carefully coordinated into the room's color scheme.
Lionel Luthor sat in one of the two chairs, and she was shown to the other one.
Luthor himself rose, leaning only slightly on his cane.
"Dr. Carter, so glad you could come on such short notice." He held out a hand, and Catherine shook it politely. She took a moment to study him. He didn't look very different from what she remembered, although there was now gray in his beard and in his long hair. Dark glasses covered his wounded eyes. She knew the lack of eye movement that could follow total or partial blindness often distracted and upset sighted people; this was probably why Lionel had opted for the glasses. To at once cover his injury and enhance his competitive edge.
"Please, sit down. Charles, would you bring in the tea, please?"
"Yes, Mr. Luthor." The cadaverous looking servant hurried away.
"I hope Darjeeling will be all right," Luthor said with a smile as he resumed his seat. But he didn't give her a chance to answer. "It's been a very long time, hasn't it? The last time we met must have been at your stepfather's funeral."
Catherine sat down as well. "That's right."
"I'm told you look a great deal like your mother. She was a very beautiful woman."
"She still is," Cate corrected.
The servant reappeared with a bone china tea set on a tray. He laid out the teapot and all the accoutrements on a spindly-legged Louis XIV table next to the settee.
"And do you ever hear from your father?" Her host asked as he was given a cup of steaming brew.
"Milk or lemon, miss?" The cadaver asked.
"Neither, thank you." She reluctantly accepted a dainty cup. "And, no, I don't." She knew Luthor was needling her on purpose, but to what end she wasn't quite sure.
But, as they said, the best defense was a good offense.
"Since you don't seem to have any qualms about asking me very personal questions, Mr. Luthor, let me ask you one. Did Henry know A.J. was your son?"
Luthor only smiled, and waved away the servant with his free hand. The other man promptly disappeared through a door at the far end of the room.
"You're direct, aren't you? Something else you got from your mother. I must confess I always found Amber rather lacking in tact."
Catherine sipped her tea. "You didn't answer my question." She'd known men like Lionel Luthor her whole life, and she wasn't about to be intimidated by him.
Lionel smiled again.
"What do you think?"
She was thoughtful for a long moment.
"I don't think he did. He might have suspected it, but if he'd known for sure he would have told Amber. And sooner or later Amber would have told me."
Luthor drank his tea in enigmatic silence.
"I suppose you asked me here to discuss the situation with A.J."
"In a manner of speaking." Lionel set his cup down on the side table, carefully feeling for the edge so the cup wouldn't fall on the Aubusson carpet. "I understand you've been permitting your brother to spend time with my son."
Cate leaned back in the uncomfortable chair as best she could. "I have. They want to get to know each other. I don't see any harm in it."
"Ah, but there may be a great deal of harm in it, Dr. Carter. I'm afraid Alexander is, well, shall we say, unlikely to be a good influence on him." He rose and moved with confidence across what must be, to him, a familiar room, and stood facing the warm sun from the windows.
Catherine shook her head. "Mr. Luthor, I had to leave work to be here. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't be so cryptic."
Lionel folded his hands behind his back. "You may not believe this, but I considered your stepfather my friend. I know he thought very highly of you, and I'm sure you and your mother have done your best to raise Andrew as Henry would have wanted. I would hate to see Lex's irresponsible behavior undermine that." He moved back across the room to where she sat.
"Dr. Carter, my son has spent most of his life getting into trouble. Only my considerable influence has kept him from the consequences of his actions."
Cate set down her cup and took a deep breath.
"What kind of trouble?"
Smiling, Luthor gestured to the teapot.
"Pour us both another cup, my dear, and I'll tell you." **************************************************
Gabe Sullivan tucked his clipboard under his arm and stepped out into the gloomy sunshine. Around him, Lex Corp Plant No. 3, housed in its complex of buildings, hummed. He hadn't quite gotten used to the new name and logo, but he reckoned it would grow on him. The important thing was, he still had a job. And so did the several hundred other people who either worked in the plant or were directly dependant on it.
He checked to make sure the latest shipment of nitrates was on the loading dock. A dozen or so men were transferring the bags onto wooden pallets. It would take a small army of forklifts to move the bags down to the manufacturing part of the complex.
Gabe grinned. Most people thought fertilizer was just glorified animal offal. Maybe thirty years ago it had been, but now it was more high-tech chemicals than organic material. After all, that was why Lionel Luthor, the so-called "Pesticide King," had gotten into the business in the first place-it had been a convenient and profitable outlet for chemicals his other subsidiaries already produced. But handling those chemicals took a skilled and aware workforce, if accidents were to be avoided.
"Take it easy there," he advised one man as he heaved a bag onto the pallet. "Watch your back-we don't need any workman's comp claims around here."
"Ain't that the truth," another worker, Casey, smiled.
Gabe glanced around him and frowned.
"Where's Jim Winters? He's transportation foreman; he should be supervising the move."
"Jim's in the bathroom, boss. Thinks it was something he ate," one of the other employees said with a grin.
A moment later, however, Winters himself appeared, looking pale and a little shaky.
"Jim, how are you feeling? I gotta say, you don't look too good."
"I'm fine, Gabe. Just a touch of something. It'll pass in a minute. Probably overdoing it on the new house, is all."
His supervisor frowned. "Well, if you get to feeling worse, go to the dispensary. Moving these bags isn't as important as your health." He thumbed through the papers on the clipboard. "I'd better get these rec forms up to Mr. Luthor."
"Is he here? Thought the dude was finally taking some time off," Casey complained.
"He's only in for an hour or two, just to check on things," Gabe explained cheerfully. Any other man would probably resent a boss who was around so much, but it wasn't in Gabe's nature to complain. And Lex Luthor actually listened to his suggestions, which was more than Lionel Luthor had ever done.
Gabe headed back to the main building that housed the offices, as far away from the chemical storage as was possible. The loading crew went back to work, but in minutes it became clear Jim wasn't fit to work. He leaned against the edge of the loading dock, breathing hard.
One of his men reached out to touch his clammy hand.
"Jim, you're ice cold. Man, we'd better get you inside."
The other man shook his head, as if to clear it.
"No, I was fine this morning," he gasped. "I.I."
While the other men looked on in horror, he slumped to the ground.
Casey rushed to his side, waving frantically at the others.
"Someone call 911-it must be a heart attack."
Casey rolled his friend onto his back, and recoiled in horror. Jim's face had turned a pale white, but the skin around his lips was blue. His eyes were open, and he looked up at him with stark terror written across his face.
"Hang on, buddy," one of the other men counseled as he kneeled next to his prone friend. "Eddie's calling the ambulance."
It seemed an eternity before the emergency crew arrived. Casey briefed the paramedics and helped load his friend into the back. They had to push through a crowd of curious LexCorp employees that had gathered around them.
"Call.Molly." Jim whispered to his friend.
"I'll have her meet you at the hospital," Casey promised. He stood back as the ambulance doors were slammed shut.
Gabe Sullivan, who had hurried out from his office at the sound of the sirens, clapped him on the back. "I'm sure he'll be fine."
Casey shook his head. He wasn't usually a fanciful kind of person, but something about the metallic clang of those doors closing had seemed horribly final.
It was a weekday, and with lights flashing and siren blaring they were able to make it to Smallville General in record time. Jim was rushed into the small emergency room.
"Male.forty-six years old.collapsed at work.possible heart attack." the paramedic reported as the attending physician and the nurses quickly went to work, attaching monitors and checking his responses.
A doctor leaned over him to try and attach an IV, and Jim's hand twisted in the fabric of her white coat.
"Help.me.can't.breathe."
Jim's eyes moved to from her face to the ceiling and back again frantically.
Suddenly his back arched as his body went rigid, and then he was still.
"He's stopped breathing," someone said.
As the monitors shrieked, the doctor felt for a pulse, but found nothing. She laid a hand on the man's jaw to open his mouth, and as she did so greenish black fluid poured out. What seemed to be gallons of the foul-smelling stuff ran out of Jim's mouth to pool on around his body and onto the floor as she instinctively stepped away.
"What in the.?" She looked helplessly at the other hospital staff.
One of the nurses shook his head.
"I've never seen anything like that, man."
"What if it's contagious?" someone else whispered.
"We have to keep working on him."
The doctor shouted out orders, but her staff was too afraid to move. Finally someone grabbed the paddles and they attempted to shock his heart back into motion. The effort proved futile; none of their attempts budged the flat green line on the monitor.
The doctor stepped back with a sigh, thankful her latex gloves had been between her and the viscous black fluid.
"Whatever it was, it sure wasn't a heart attack," she announced to no one in particular.
The staff looked silently at each other.
"Where did you bring him in from?" One of the nurses asked the paramedic.
The young man tore his eyes away from the body.
"The LuthorCorp plant. Or whatever it's called now."
The attending physician nodded grimly. "All right, let's get Dr. Evans down here ASAP. Tell him we've got a situation on our hands."