The Hottest Team in Town

by Nan Smith

Fourth in the series started by Four Days to Nightfall, and the sequel to Buried Secrets. All of Metropolis is curious about the new superhero, and Lois and Clark are hot on the trail of Metropolis's biggest crime boss.

2. The Hottest Team in Town 2

When Lois opened the door of her apartment some minutes past midnight, there was an immediate rustling sound, and a glance into her darkened living room showed her the silhouettes of Lucy and Brian scrambling hastily upright.

She walked in, snapping on the light and turned to Clark. "Thanks for seeing me home safe, Clark. I'll pick you up on the way to work tomorrow."

"Thanks, Lois, I appreciate it," Clark said, his voice sounding completely bland. If she hadn't noticed the corners of his mouth twitch, she would have thought he hadn't seen a thing. "Good night."

"Good night," she said, and watched as he walked back down the hall. As he disappeared through the door to the stairs, there was a sound like rushing wind, and then silence. She turned back to the living room, to see Brian and Lucy standing by the sofa, looking innocent. Brian turned to Lucy.

"Well, I'll see myself out," he said. "I'll be by at seven to pick you up." He started toward the door, and Lucy accompanied him.

"Hello, Brian," Lois said. "Did you and Lucy enjoy the movie?"

"It was pretty good," Brian said.

Lucy nodded vigorously, following him out the door. Lois wasn't surprised when she pulled it closed behind her.

She walked slowly toward her bedroom, unfastening her jacket as she did so. It was at least five minutes before Lucy re-entered the apartment.

"Have a nice evening?" Lois asked, casually.

"Yeah," Lucy said, "but it started out weird. Martinique's got held up! Can you believe it?"

"Quite a coincidence," Lois said. "I knew about it, by the way. Superman told me what happened."

"You know this Superman?" Lucy asked.

"Yes. I met him when he first appeared a few days ago."

Lucy shook her head, and after a moment she sank down on the couch. "They acted crazy, Lois. It was almost as if they weren't really there to rob anybody."

"What do you think they were there for?" Lois asked. She sat down on the sofa beside her sister.

"I don't know. It was like they were looking for something, or somebody."

"Did they find him -- or her?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. One of them nearly hit Brian, but your friend Superman showed up and stopped them. How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Deal with people like that and not have nightmares. I didn't want Brian to know how scared I was, but it did scare me."

"It scares me, too," Lois said. "I try not to think about it, that's all."

"I don't know if I can," Lucy said. "You have to promise not to tell Brian, though. I really like him."

"You just met him this morning, Lucy."

"I know. But he's really cool, and he's not the usual kind of guy I attract."

"You mean he doesn't have a pink Mohawk and a ring in his nose?" Lois said. "Maybe your taste is improving."

"I always had that kind of taste," Lucy said. "At least, I thought I did. I like the clean-cut image; they just didn't seem to like me. I don't want to disappoint Brian and maybe make him decide to leave."

Lois regarded her sister. Maybe there was hope for her, after all. "I don't think admitting that you're scared by what happened will make him want to leave. If it does, he's not worth it."

"Maybe," Lucy said, but Lois could tell she didn't believe it. "Just don't say anything in front of him, okay? Something like this will probably never happen again, anyway."

"Okay, I promise," Lois said. "I doubt admitting that you were scared would make a difference, though."

"Well, I don't want to find out," Lucy said. "Maybe after we get to know each other better I won't want to see him anymore, or he won't want to see me -- but in the meantime --"

"I get the picture," Lois said. "My lips are sealed." She glanced at her watch. "It's nearly half past twelve. I'm going to bed. Did you lock the door?"

"What?" Her sister turned to look at the door. "No, but I will."

"Never mind," Lois said. "I'll do it." She proceeded to do so. "Remember, this is Metropolis, not the wilds of Northern California. I'd think that what happened this evening would make that obvious."

"Northern California's not wild," Lucy said. "Its just not heavily urbanized like the southern part. There are plenty of little towns there."

"Where was your commune?" Lois asked. "In one of the towns?"

"Well, no, not exactly. We were a few miles east of Crescent City, not far from the Oregon border. It was kind of a semi-permanent camp, in the woods. I just got out of the habit of locking anything."

"Well, you need to get back into the habit," Lois said. "Even if those holdup guys are in jail, there are still burglars around, you know, and I don't want to make it easy for them."

"I'll try to remember," Lucy promised. She turned toward the kitchen. "I think I'll get some hot milk before I go to bed. Maybe it'll help me sleep."

##########

##########

Morning dawned cold and clear in Metropolis, with a good eight inches of snow coating the ground.

As he had done the morning and night before, Superman took time to check on the two boys in the abandoned building a few blocks from his apartment. Both Jack and Denny seemed to be all right; they were dressed in heavy garments and covered with a mountain of blankets, and monitoring their vital signs, he could tell that they were apparently warm enough in their ramshackle shelter. Crumpled fast food wrappers stuffed in a paper sack residing in one corner told him that they had at least been eating regularly, if perhaps not as nutritiously as one might wish.

He still hadn't decided what to do about them. If he reported them to CPS, they would undoubtedly be taken back to whatever situation they had tried so determinedly to escape, and would probably escape again as soon as circumstances permitted. In that case, they might be worse off, because he wouldn't know, and wouldn't be able to keep an eye on them. Still, the situation could not be allowed to remain as it was. Maybe Lois would have some ideas, or maybe his mom and dad could come up with something. He'd have to think about it. At least there didn't appear to be a tremendous amount of urgency as long as they seemed to be relatively safe.

He shook his head in exasperation as he made a quick return to his apartment to get ready for work. If he knew more about the boys' situation, he might be able to be of more help. But how was he going to get them to talk to him? Jack had made it clear that he didn't trust Clark Kent -- or anybody else. If he even let on that he knew where they were living -- in either of his guises -- they would undoubtedly change their location, and the next one might not be either as comfortable or as relatively safe as this one seemed to be.

Back in his apartment, he readied himself for work, downed a cup of coffee and a fried egg, and quickly cleaned up the minimal debris of his breakfast, still mulling over the problem. He was no closer to a solution when Lois knocked on the door.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi." He resisted the temptation to give her a kiss on the cheek, reminding himself sternly that they were supposed to be no more than partners, at least in public. "You're here early."

"I wanted to get started," Lois said. "We need to check out Joey McPherson's apartment house for future reference. I also have Jimmy trying to find us a good picture of him."

"Do you have the address of this place?" Clark asked, accompanying her back to the little rental car.

She nodded. "Got it from Henderson. The picture of him in the police files is at least two years old, and he was wearing a beard, so I want a more recent one of him." She fished in her purse and handed him a typical shot of a man in a police lineup.

He looked it over. "All I can see is hair."

"My feeling exactly. If he's shaved since, you could walk past him on the street and never know it."

"Don't they have some pictures from jail?"

"He never went to jail, except for a few days in the local lockup about two years ago. A lawyer showed up and got him out."

"Any information on who hired the lawyer?"

"An anonymous benefactor," Lois said. "Henderson says there are a lot of those around when it comes to any hint of connection to the local rackets."

"I'll bet," Clark said. He pushed his glasses down his nose and scanned the little car for listening devices, as he had been doing to both it and her apartment since the one had turned up in her living room. Satisfied that it was clean, he opened the driver's door for her and she got in. By the time he climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door, she had the engine running. "Does Bobby Bigmouth have any information on who runs these rackets? Somebody must know something about it."

Lois checked over her shoulder and pulled out onto the street. "As a matter of fact, he does," she said. "A little, anyway. It's more than a rumor, but nobody says it out loud. Bobby called me this morning and made me promise not to tell anybody I didn't completely trust, or it could get both him and me killed. I owe him a meal at the Peking Palace in the near future -- and you need to bring him another one of those deli things you gave him yesterday. I had to really pull out all the stops to get him to talk. He was pretty scared, but he trusts me."

"Okay," Clark said. "What was this high-priced information?"

Lois turned onto the street that led to their place of work. "Just about every criminal element in Metropolis pays protection money to a shadowy figure they call 'The Boss'. Most of them don't know who he is, and the ones who do are too afraid to talk. Bobby didn't exactly say who he thinks it is, but I don't think he'd have given me the information if he didn't think there was a connection to the diary. With that, and what we've figured out since the Barbara Trevino thing, I'm thinking that there's a good chance this 'Boss' is Lex Luthor."

Clark whistled softly. "I'd say you're probably right. So, the 'brag book' that Bobby talked about could be even hotter than we thought."

Lois nodded. "If he is the Boss, it might have information about more than just his corporate crimes," she said. "If we can get hold of it, it might send him up for a very long time."

"The trick is to find out who has it," Clark said. "If Moran really gave it to Joey, and it was stolen along with the protection money the other night, he might be the only one who can give us a real description of the person who took it. And my bet is that he's not going to want to talk to us."

"Of course, he's hunting for the thief, too," Lois pointed out. "Maybe we should watch him for awhile. He might have some ideas where to look. Luthor evidently thinks he might have the contacts to track this guy down. Bobby's right, though. I'd say his life expectancy isn't promising."

"He knows that, if he isn't completely stupid. Maybe if we promised to get him out of town safely and not leave a trail, we could coax some information out of him," Clark mused.

"How are you going to do that?" Lois asked.

"Superman doesn't leave a trail," Clark pointed out. "McPherson's a petty criminal, sure, but he's practically harmless compared to the person we're after."

"That goes without saying." Lois pulled into the entrance to the Planet's basement parking lot. "Anyhow, let's see what Jimmy has for us, and then we can decide what to do next."

##########

##########

"I had to do some digging," Jimmy said. "The photo on the guy's driver's license had a beard the size of Texas, and so did the one from the line-up he was in a couple of years ago."

"I know about that one," Lois said. "The guy looks like the Abominable Snowman."

"Except the beard is brown," Jimmy said. "Anyway, I dug up a passport photo he had taken a year ago, last August. He went to Brazil for about a month in November of last year."

"Brazil?" Lois said. "Why would a guy like him be doing any international travel?"

Jimmy shrugged. "I have no idea. Anyway, he shaved for the picture. You can tell by looking at it. The upper part of his face is tanned, and the lower half is pale. So, anyway, this is it." He handed Lois the printout of a balding man who smiled at the camera in a way that looked to Clark as if he wasn't used to the expression.

"Is that a smile, or is he grimacing in pain?" Cat had come up behind them while Jimmy was exhibiting the picture.

"Maybe both." Lois glanced at her. "Need something?"

"No. You've got a message on your desk. Lex Luthor called just before you got here, wanting to talk to you." The gossip columnist raised a plucked and penciled eyebrow. "And I used to think he had good taste. Oh well, live and learn." She sashayed away, leaving Lois to glare after her.

The message was a simple one. It was a number to call him back, and a request that she do so.

"Do you think I should?" she asked.

Clark gave a reluctant nod. "I hate to say it, but yes, I do."

She shrugged. "So do I," she said, with a small grin. "Okay, here goes."

Clark picked up the picture of Joey McPherson, memorizing the features. He wanted to be certain that he would recognize the man when he saw him. In the background, Lois was speaking, and he couldn't help deliberately listening. His hackles rose at the sound of the billionaire's voice on the phone. He had instinctively disliked the man at first sight; now the mere sound of Lex Luthor's voice, knowing at least some of what he was capable, made Clark's skin crawl.

"Why, I don't know what to say," Lois said. "The opera?"

Clark deliberately turned his attention elsewhere.

Ralph was watching him and the man shook his head knowingly. "Too bad, Kent. I'll bet she'd be real hot in bed, too -- if you could ever crack the ice maiden image. Too bad you'll never --"

Clark raised an eyebrow at his co-worker. "Y'know, Ralph, you shouldn't confuse that stuff you write with your coworkers' lives."

"Huh?" Ralph said.

"You know, there are relationships between men and women that don't involve casual sex, as unlikely as that might seem," Cat said acidly, brushing past the man. She paused. "Oh, wait. I forgot who I'm talking to. Mr. 'Safe-Sex-means-a-padded-headboard'." She continued on her way and disappeared into the storeroom. Ralph stared after her as if he couldn't believe his ears. In the background, Eduardo snickered.

Lois put down the phone, picked up a pencil and jotted down a note on her desk calendar.

Perry opened his door and stepped out into the newsroom. "Okay, staff meeting in the conference room in five minutes."

"Chief, Clark and I have to meet a source," Lois said. "Can we talk to you about our progress later?"

Perry threw up his hands. "Why not? It's not as if we've got anything new on Superman, anyway. And why haven't you managed to get me a more in-depth interview, Lois? I thought you had an inside track with him."

"Not an inside track, Chief," Lois said. "He just thought I was the best person to introduce him. I'll see what I can do as soon as I get the chance, but ..."

Clark had been aware of the sounds of sirens growing nearer for some seconds. Somewhere below an emergency vehicle tore past the Daily Planet, its warning siren blasting loud enough to make him wince. Perry dodged back through the door of his office like a Jack-in-the-box in reverse. Everyone else rushed toward the windows to look out, except Clark and Lois. They had started toward the exit door when Perry re-emerged. "There's a bomb in the lobby of the Carlin Building at Third and Ordway."

"I'm on it, Chief," Lois said, instantly. "Clark, you meet the source. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Take a photographer with you," Perry said, as Clark headed for the stairs with Lois on his heels.

Lois didn't hesitate. "Come on, Jimmy, let's move."

The last thing Clark thought before he ducked through the door into the stairwell and changed into Superman, was that this masquerade would be much harder without Lois to back him up. Then he was on the roof of the Daily Planet and headed toward the scene of the crisis.

##########

##########

Fortunately for Lois and Jimmy, the Carlin building was only a few blocks from the Daily Planet. They had taken a taxi in the interests of not having to find a place to park, and as the cab pulled to a stop, Lois flung the fare and the tip at the driver. "Keep the change. Come on, Jimmy!"

A line of uniformed police held off the crowd of spectators who were gawking at the scene, pressing recklessly close to the building. Members of the Metropolis Bomb Squad stood in a group to one side, obviously waiting for something.

William Henderson was standing not far from the entrance, and as Lois hurried toward him, she caught the words of Linda Montoya, the television announcer who was standing as close to the scene as the line of police would allow and speaking excitedly into the microphones and cameras in the hands of her news crew.

"... Report of a bomb planted in the lobby of the Carlin Building has now been confirmed. Currently the Bomb Squad is awaiting the arrival of what they term a 'containment blister' as well as a team of deactivation specialists ..."

A sudden roar of excitement from the spectators made her look around to see Superman coming in for a landing. He strode toward Bill Henderson, hesitating when the newswoman intercepted him. With a shake of his head, he continued on in the direction of the Police Inspector.

"Jimmy, get some shots of this," Lois commanded. "Don't get too close," she added, starting to run toward the place where the two were now speaking. As she did so, Superman nodded briefly, turned away from the officer and headed purposefully into the Carlin Building.

Lois sprinted toward Henderson, who was watching the Man of Steel as he disappeared through the main doors.

"Henderson!" she called. "What's going on? What's happened?"

A tremendous explosion drowned out the last word. The front of the Carlin Building burst violently outward and Lois found herself pushed to the sidewalk by a pair of male arms. A muscular body pinned her painfully to the ground. Henderson's voice said in her ear, "Get down!" Bits of debris rained on her back.

The reverberations of the explosion hadn't died away when he let her go. "Are you all right?" he demanded. "Dammit, Lois! That was a stupid stunt! You could have been hurt!"

"Aw, Bill, I didn't know you cared," she said, trying to brush off the sudden knot of shock in her gut. "What's going on? What happened?"

"That's what we're trying to find out." He grasped her wrist and pulled her unceremoniously to her feet. "Let's hope your friend Superman is as invulnerable as you said he was in your article."

At that moment, Charlie stepped from the shattered building, brushing soot from his face. The cape of his uniform was slightly tattered, but other than that, he was unhurt.

##########

##########

"The explosion was radio-controlled," Henderson was saying some time later, "activated from an unknown point of origin within a two-mile radius of this site. Also, there were videocameras installed in the lobby that were not part of the building's security system, or any other system that the management company knew about. We think the two are connected."

Lois stared at him, appalled. "You're saying that someone waited for Superman to appear, watched him enter the building, and then detonated the explosives?"

The Inspector nodded. "That's our theory."

"So, somebody tried to kill Superman," Lois said. "Who would do a thing like that?"

Henderson raised an eyebrow as if the answer to that was obvious. She frowned suddenly as the memory of certain events the day before came into her mind. "I wonder ..." She broke off quickly. "Thanks for the quote. If we have any more questions, I'll call your office."

"You do that, Lane." He turned as an officer trotted up. "Yes?"

Lois walked away from the site of the explosion, frowning at the notebook in her hands. First those strange suicide attempts, yesterday, and now this situation today. What was going on? Outside of the obvious, that somebody wanted Superman dead, it seemed as if that somebody wanted to see for himself exactly what the hero was capable of. Was it possible that that somebody could be Lex Luthor? He would certainly have the incentive.

Jimmy came trotting up, waving his camera. "I've got plenty of shots, Lois. Some of them ought to turn out pretty good."

"Good," she said, absently. Something was tugging persistently at her mind but she couldn't quite put a finger on it. "Jimmy, you know the investigation Clark and I are doing. I wonder if you could do a little research for me."

"Is that really a question?" Jimmy asked.

"No, not really. Henderson said the bomb was radio-controlled, and the transmitter was somewhere within two miles. How close is LexTower to the Carlin Building?"

"That's easy. It's about a mile and a half. Do you think ..."

Suddenly it clicked. "Carlin!"

"What?"

"Josef Carlin! Find out about the ownership of the Carlin Building for me, Jimmy. Josef Carlin owns 51 percent of the shares to Carlin Investments. You-know-who owns the other 49. There may be a connection."

"You don't think he tried to ..."

"Maybe. Or maybe there was another motive behind it." She put two fingers in her mouth and produced a shrill whistle. A taxi made a U-turn in the middle of the street and screeched to a stop beside them. They climbed in. Lois leaned forward. "Daily Planet. And step on it."

##########

##########

Clark was waiting when they climbed out of the taxi in front of the Planet.

"How did it go?" he asked. "I heard the news report about the explosion."

"We think somebody deliberately set Superman up," Jimmy said.

"Oh?" Clark said. He glanced at Lois.

"Yeah," she said. "The police found videocameras in the lobby of the Carlin Building, and Henderson says the explosion was triggered by a radio signal. Clark, somebody deliberately waited until Superman went into the building after the bomb and then blew it up." She grabbed his elbow and steered him toward the Planet's front doors. "Come on, I don't want to talk about this in public."

Clark didn't say anything, but he was frowning. Once they were in the elevator, he said, "So, somebody tried to kill Superman? I guess whoever it was didn't believe the stuff in your article."

"Or, maybe --" She glanced at Jimmy. "Jimmy," she added, "this is part of our investigation into 'You-know-who', okay? No talking about it."

"Not a word," Jimmy said. "I like living too much to say anything about him."

"Remember that," Lois said. "Clark, I'm wondering about those two so-called 'suicide attempts', yesterday."

"What about them?"

"Well, this is just speculation, but what if somebody is trying to find out for himself exactly what Superman is capable of? You know, sort of setting up tests, or something?"

"So, today's bomb might have been a test?"

"It's a possibility," she said. "Hopefully, they'll get back to us today with the information about the jumpers. That might tell us more."

"In the meantime, I'd like to know who the two of them work for," Clark said.

Jimmy sighed. "Say no more. I'll find out for you right after I track down who owns the Carlin Building."

Clark laughed. "Sorry, Jim," he said. "I know it's a lot to ask, but we really need the information. By the way, how are you doing with that other stuff?"

"The acquisitions? Let's say some of it is making pretty interesting reading. I've never seen such a string of bad luck result in so much good luck for one company."

"That kind of 'interesting', huh," Lois said. "I wish I could say I'm surprised, but at this point all I am is frustrated. How anybody can pull the number of dirty tricks this guy has and not leave any traces ..."

"There are traces," Clark said. "We've found some of them; we just haven't got enough for proof -- yet. But we will. Even that much money won't protect him forever."

"Well, I'm going to the opera with him Wednesday night, since he has some big business meeting in Paris on Thursday, and a something else in Japan on Friday," Lois said. "Maybe I can come up with some way to find out his cellular phone number -- or at the very least keep my ears open," she added. "If he's interested in me, it's a potential weak spot in his armor. I plan to exploit it."

"Just be careful," Clark said. "If he has even the faintest suspicion that you aren't completely taken in by his act, he'll have his hired guns after you again in no time."

She patted his arm. "Don't worry, Clark. I'm not a newbie at this. I've dealt with killers before."

"I know," Clark said, quietly. "While I was traveling around the world, I used to read your articles and dream of being half the journalist that you were someday. But I think Lex Luthor is in a class by himself."

"So am I," Lois said.

"No argument there," Clark agreed. "But be careful anyway, all right?"

"If he thinks you might be onto him -- or did," Jimmy amended, "why does he want to take you to the opera?"

"It's possible that he's trying to do the same thing that I am," Lois speculated. "There's an old saying: 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer'. He may be trying to decide if he really has me fooled."

"That could be a real cat and mouse game," Jimmy said.

"You let me handle that," Lois said. "I've played plenty of cat and mouse with the bad guys before. I'll be the perfect date, and if I can manage to get a look at his cellular phone number, we'll be able to either rule it in or out as the number Baines and Trevino called. Trust me."

She saw Jimmy and Clark exchange a look and laughed. "You two have exactly the same expression that Perry gets every time I come up with a really good idea. Relax. I'll be fine."

The elevator came to a stop and the doors slid sluggishly open. The first thing that became evident to all of them was that Perry was in full rant mode, and the target of his commentary was Ralph.

"Evidence!" he roared. "This is a newspaper, not a gossip rag! That kind of reporting may make it in the 'Whisper', but not here! This paper has standards to uphold! Bring me evidence; you got it, Finkelstein?"

Clark winced. "Glad that's not me he's mad at," he murmured.

Lois grinned. "His bark is worse than his bite."

"For you, maybe," Jimmy said. "I better get these pictures developed before he gets on my case."

Lois waited until he was out of earshot before she spoke. "So, did you get a chance to check out Joey's place?"

"Yeah." Clark cast a wary eye at their editor as he descended on his next victim. "I x-rayed his apartment house while you were talking to Henderson. No sign of Joey; he's probably out on 'business' for his boss."

"Probably," Lois agreed. "We have to figure out some way to find him and get him to talk to us."

"I'm going to stake out his apartment tonight and follow him when he goes out," Clark said. "Maybe I can figure out something while I'm watching him. He must be starting to get a little scared by now. It's been two days, and at least so far, he hasn't found either the diary or the guy who stole it."

"If I were him, I'd be scared whether I found it or not," Lois said. "Maybe more scared when I found it. It would mean his usefulness to his boss is over, and the possible liability he represents is still there. I get the feeling that more people than Trevino and Baines may have taken the fall for our friend at one time or another."

"Probably." Clark bit his lip. "Remember though, where Joey's concerned, we may be able to exploit that. It's sure worth a try."

She nodded. "We'll just have to figure out the right time to spring it on him."

Clark's desk phone rang at that moment. He hurried down the steps to the Pit and picked it up on the third ring. "Kent." A pause. "Dr. Newman? Thanks for returning my call." He started to write as Lois arrived beside his desk. "Yes ... uh huh ... really? That's unusual, isn't it? I see. Okay, thanks very much; you've been a big help. No, that won't be necessary." He hung up, frowning.

"That was the guy who did the psychiatric evaluations on the jumpers?" Lois asked, unable to contain her impatience.

Clark nodded, still frowning.

"So?" she prompted him. "What have we got?"

"They've both been released," Clark said. "Jules Johnson was released immediately. They don't think he ever meant to jump. Monique Kahn, on the other hand, was hysterical. Turns out she's afraid of heights."

"She's afraid of heights, and she jumps off a thirty-story building?" Lois said.

"Yeah." He looked up at her. "Doesn't sound right, does it?"

"Not if she really meant to jump. Anything else?"

"No. Maybe she didn't really intend to jump, though," Clark said. "I'm beginning to think you may be right."

"Well," Lois said, "if you were in his position and somebody like Superman showed up ..."

"Yeah," Clark said. "It makes sense all right. Superman is an unknown quantity. He wants to know what he's dealing with."

"I'd say so," Lois said.

"Lois!" Perry demanded. "Where's the stuff on that bomb in the Carlin building? We've got a deadline in half an hour!"

"I'll have it for you in a few minutes," Lois said. She sat down at her desk and fished the notebook out of her jacket pocket. "Let me take care of this, and then we can talk about that stakeout tonight, okay?"

"Sure ..." Clark raised his head in what was becoming a very familiar gesture. Lois didn't even pause.

"Clark, you'd better go meet that guy while I'm doing this. Take good notes."

"I will." Clark was already on his way toward the exit.

##########

##########

As Clark shot through the chilly air toward the call for help that he had heard, he pushed himself to the limit. The scream had again been that of Lucy Lane.

The snowy expanse of Centennial Park was the scene of a mugging, he saw as he approached. One bearded figure held Lucy with an arm crooked around her neck and a knife to her throat. Another had backed Brian against one of the big evergreen trees with which the park was so generously supplied and was waving another knife inches from his eyes. As Clark spotted the scenario, Brian lunged for his attacker, grasping the wrist of the man's knife hand, and the two of them staggered sideways into a clump of thorny, leafless shrubbery. Lucy screamed again, as her captor released her to lunge at the two struggling figures. She jumped after him and landed squarely on his back, so unexpectedly that her assailant lost his balance and fell face-first onto the graveled path with a grunt of pain.

As brave as Brian and Lucy were, the two muggers were armed. Clark plunged into the fray and instants later both men were disarmed and tied with their own belts.

Brian got to his feet and gave Lucy a hand up. He turned to Clark.

"Thank you, Superman," he said. He took a deep breath, trying visibly to regain his composure. "This makes three times in two days that you've rescued us, and I don't think I've thanked you, before."

"It's not necessary," Clark said. "If you have a cellular phone, you might want to call the police."

Brian nodded and produced a phone from his coat pocket. Clark turned to Lucy. "Are you all right, Ms. Lane?"

Her eyes widened. "You know my name?"

He nodded. "I heard you identify yourself to one of the officers at the restaurant, last night. Is there any reason that you can think of for someone to be targeting you? Three incidents of random violence in two days is kind of straining the laws of probability."

Lucy shook her head. "No, unless they might be trying to scare my sister. My sister is Lois Lane. You probably know her."

He nodded. "Yes, I met Ms. Lane several days ago."

"But she said the guy who was trying to kill her is in jail, so I don't think it could be --"

"And no one has tried to threaten either of you since you've been in Metropolis?"

Lucy shook her head. "No. I really think it must just be coincidence. They do happen, you know."

Clark wasn't convinced, but it seemed unlikely that she would be able to give him any further information. A moment later, a police car drew up to the side of the street some distance away, and two police officers emerged. While they waited for the officers to arrive, Clark looked the two muggers over. Could it really be merely a coincidence? All his instincts said it wasn't. He and Lois were going to have to take a closer look at the seemingly random attacks on Lucy Lane.

##########

##########

"Their names are Rufus Newman and Aloysius Dane, no kidding," Clark said, resting his hip on the corner of Lois's desk. "Both unemployed, address of record is one of the condemned buildings in Suicide Slum."

"Basically, they're homeless," Lois said. "Very convenient."

"I thought so," Clark said. "I made some inquiries over at the precinct before I came back. According to Henderson, the men who held up the bistro yesterday have a history of petty crime and the occasional mugging. The guy who took the Administration building at New Troy State hostage is a perennial student. He doesn't have a job, and has been taking undergrad courses for seven years with a student loan and still hasn't quite finished his GE requirements. Not to mention, he's been arrested twice in a couple of Metropolis's illegal gambling parlors."

"Another loser," Lois said, unfeelingly.

"He's also had a high-priced lawyer show up today, to take his case pro bono," Clark added.

"Since when do lawyers offer their services for free?" Lois asked.

"Well, it's happened occasionally," Clark said. "Usually those are fairly high-profile cases, though, where the lawyer is looking for publicity."

"Which isn't this case," Lois said. "He isn't famous, and a guy whining about his grades isn't going to capture the public's interest for very long."

Clark shook his head. "Not exactly."

"Why is this pattern sounding familiar?" Lois said.

"It does have a familiar feel," Clark said. "I take it we're agreed that there might be more to this than we thought at first."

"I think we should at least check it out," Lois said. "I can't quite see anyone going after Lucy for any reason, to tell you the truth. She just doesn't get involved in criminal stuff. She never even served a detention in high school."

"So, if she hasn't got any idea what might be behind it, where do we go from here?"

"We'll just have to go at it from another direction," Lois said. "Who is this lawyer, anyway?"

"A guy named Gerald Wilson," Clark said. "He's an Associate with the Law Offices of Sheldon Bender. I looked him up."

Lois turned her head. "Jimmy!"

"Just a minute," Jimmy said. He did something to his computer keyboard and the printer started to hum. "There."

A sheet of paper began to emerge from the printer and a moment later, a second. He picked them up and crossed to her desk. "Here's your stuff on the two jumpers." He lowered his voice. "Also, the Carlin Building is owned by LexCorp. At this point, I can't say I'm surprised."

Lois accepted the papers. "Jimmy, find out as much as you can for us on the Law Offices of Sheldon Bender. See if you can find out who some of their clients are."

Jimmy looked surprised. "It's interesting that you should mention them," he said, keeping his voice down. "Bender's law firm works for LexCorp. Their name is all over the stuff I'm researching."

"What are you three whispering about?" Ralph inquired. He craned his neck, trying to look over Clark's shoulder at the papers in Lois's hand.

She folded them over. "Background on the Superman story," she said. "None of your business, Ralph. There's no sex scandals involved."

Clark raised an eyebrow at her, but she didn't react. Ralph looked curiously at the now-folded papers. Lois glared at him. "You're lucky I don't hit you with a harassment suit, Ralph. I heard what you said about me. And my relationship with Lex Luthor is none of your business, either."

Ralph seemed taken aback. "Aw, Lane ... I didn't mean ..."

"I don't care what you meant," Lois said. "If I hear you make another remark like that about me, expect Perry to hear about it, too. And I'm still not going to show you my information about Superman. Go away."

Ralph stared at her, open-mouthed and then moved reluctantly toward his desk with a last, curious glance at the now-folded papers.

"'Superman'?" Clark asked, after Ralph was out of earshot.

"Well, I sure wasn't going to tell him what it really was," she said, keeping her voice as low as Jimmy had. "It just occurred to me, Clark, maybe somebody doesn't have a spy on us, per se, but might be talking to some of our more loose-lipped colleagues."

"Like Ralph," Clark agreed. "Jim, if I were you, I'd transfer any information you have on this subject to a floppy and get it off your computer. Immediately. And hide the floppy."

Jimmy nodded. "Actually, that's what I've been doing," he said. "If somebody hacks into my files, I want to be alive afterwards."

"Smart boy," Lois said. "I know the security measures seem a bit extreme, but with this guy, I don't think any security can be too much."

"Neither do I," Jimmy said. "I've been sleeping with a bunch of pots and pans rigged over my apartment door ever since you started the investigation -- just in case." He carefully didn't look at Ralph, who was still casting curious glances at them. "Anyway, was there anything else that you wanted me for?"

"No, I think that's ..." Lois began, when Clark interrupted.

"Maybe," he said. "Jimmy, Lois and I have kind of a puzzle we're trying to solve. Maybe you can give us a different perspective on it."

Jimmy shrugged. "Shoot."

"As you may know, Lois's sister, Lucy, is in town and yesterday morning ..."

##########

##########

"So," Jimmy said, "she and this Brian guy met at the hostage thing, and then there was a hold-up at the restaurant where they went on their date, and then a little while ago they got mugged in the park?"

"That's about it," Lois said. "It just seems a little too coincidental, that's all."

"Yeah, it kind of does," Jimmy agreed, scratching his head. "You got any identification on the guys who held them up? Maybe I could do some research online and see if there's anything on them."

"A little," Clark said. "Names and kind-of addresses. There's more on the hostage-taker."

Jimmy snorted. "I saw a blurb on him last night on the news. I used to know a guy like him."

"Oh?" Clark asked.

"Yeah. We had a neighbor whose kid was going to college when I was about eight or nine. The last time I went home to visit my mom, his sister told me he's still there, full-time -- still working on his bachelor's degree, she says."

"You're nineteen, aren't you?" Lois asked.

Jimmy nodded. "I guess it's easier for some people to stay in school forever, than to get a real job. I'm not talking about the ones who get two or three degrees or anything," he added hastily. "That's different. It just seems that there are some guys who want to mess around in school taking stuff like Advanced Basket Weaving, and be big man on campus 'cause they're too scared they can't hack it in the real world. Anyway, if you'll give me the names, I'll see what I can dig up for you and if I think of anything in the meantime, I'll let you know."

Clark scribbled the names onto the back of an envelope. "Just to save you time," he said, "our student friend is the one with the free lawyer from Bender's law firm, so there's at least some kind of connection to the other subject. I suppose it could be a coincidence." Lois raised an eyebrow at him and he couldn't restrain a slight grin. "Okay, I realize that coincidences involving You-know-who seem a little unlikely."

"That's putting it mildly," Lois said. "If there's a connection between this and my sister, I want to know what it is."

"Don't blame you a bit," Clark said. "If he's after your sister, it could mean he still suspects you and is looking for leverage. At least nobody's been hurt, so far."

##########

##########

"I'll be glad to get my Jeep back," Lois said, as they left the Daily Planet an hour later. It was just past noon, and the lunch hour crush was thinning out. Lois had chosen to take a late lunch break so that she could use part of the time to pick up her car and turn in the tiny subcompact that had been her main form of transportation for over a week, not counting that provided by her private pilot.

"So will I," Clark agreed. "No offense, but the rental makes me nervous. It's so ... crowded."

"I think you're claustrophobic," Lois said. "A little, anyway. It would make sense, you know. If you came all the way from your planet in that tiny little space ship, I can see how it might have happened."

"I suppose," Clark said. "I don't think it's very serious, but if I can avoid closed-in spaces from now on, I won't mind."

"Doesn't the elevator at the Planet bother you?" she asked, as they got into the subcompact.

He shook his head. "No. I guess it's not small enough -- or I'm not in it long enough, or something."

"Probably," Lois agreed. "It doesn't scrunch you up like the car does."

The trip to the repair shop took only a few minutes in the thinning traffic, and she didn't fail to notice the sigh of relief from Clark as he stepped from the little vehicle for the last time. Yes, her almost-fiance was definitely uncomfortable in tight spaces, she thought. Not that she thought any less of him because of it. In an odd way, it was just another of the qualities that made him human, in spite of his extra-terrestrial origins and amazing abilities. Charlie might be an alien, but he was more human than a lot of the ordinary men that she knew.

"You're looking at me that way again," he remarked, as they strolled across the parking lot toward the office.

"What way?"

"Like I've grown another head."

"Oh. I was just thinking how incredibly lucky I was to meet you -- and not because of what you can do," she said. "Are you sure you're really for real?"

He looked down at his shoes, and for an instant she wondered if he was actually blushing. "I'm nothing special, Lois. Not really."

"No? You mean, outside of being smart and sweet and understanding, not to mention charming and fun to be with --" Now he really was blushing, she saw, with an inward grin. "And," she added, bravely, "mine. Nope, nothing special at all."

His eyes flicked toward her and he grinned, still looking a little pink-cheeked, but he said nothing. A moment later, he pushed open the door to the repair shop for her, and they joined the line of four other patrons in front of the cashier's counter.

Lois tapped her fingers on her arm, waiting while the customers ahead of her argued interminably with the cashier over insignificant issues. What could possibly be so important to take up so much time? She glanced at her watch and tapped her foot on the thin carpet. At this rate, she and Charlie weren't going to have any time to grab lunch before they had to be back in the newsroom.

Clark glanced down at her tapping toe and back at her, but said nothing. She could have sworn he was trying not to smile.

At long last, the woman in front of her wrote out a check and slapped the pen down on the counter. The clerk took his time with the paperwork, and eventually handed her the receipt. "I'll have the car brought around to the front for you, Mrs. Johnson." He turned to Lois. "May I help you?"

"I'm Lois Lane. My car was the one with the damaged windshield."

"Oh yes." The man looked at her closely. "The Jeep with the bullet holes." He reached into a drawer. "We'll need the fifty-dollar deductible. Other than that, everything's taken care of."

Lois grunted and took out her checkbook. At this point, she would have paid a good deal more, but she wasn't about to say that. "Your rental is right outside," she informed him.

The clerk accepted the check and the subcompact's car key. "Thank you, Ms. Lane. It's been a pleasure doing business with you. I'll have your car brought around." He typed something into the computer and turned to the man standing behind Clark. "May I help you?"

"I guess we'd better wait out front," Clark said.

Lois wouldn't have believed a week ago that she could have an emotional reaction after not seeing the Cherokee for more than a week, but she almost ran toward it as it came into view around the corner of the building. She heard Clark laugh and glanced back at him. "It's not funny! I love my Jeep!"

"I love it too, after eight days of the loaner," he said, "but I don't think you should run out in front of it like that."

He had a point. She waited impatiently while the shop employee brought it to a stop and hopped out, leaving the engine running. Lois started around the Jeep when her partner's hand closed on her wrist. She glanced at him, slightly annoyed. "What?"

He tapped the frame of his glasses with his free hand and drew her back a few feet. Lois glanced at the Jeep and then back at him. Something was definitely up. "What?" she asked again, more softly.

"I just checked to be safe; I figured that if your car was in the shop for repairs, it would be a perfect opportunity to plant a listening device. There's a bug in it, all right. It's been installed just under your dashboard."

"What?!" she whispered, keeping her voice down with an effort.

"Shh! You heard me. I'd say it's been installed professionally and recently. It sounds like someone here may have done a small job for our ... friend."

Lois gaped at him for a long second, taking in what he'd said, and beginning to do a slow boil. Her Jeep had been bugged, probably on the orders of Lex Luthor. She'd almost let herself believe that he had been completely convinced that she had no suspicions about him. Obviously, she had been wrong, and if it hadn't been for her partner's extraordinary abilities, she might have given herself away. Well, two could play at the innocence game.

"Come on," she said, softly, underlining her annoyance with a toothy grin. "If we wait too long, someone might get suspicious. We're going to have a conversation in there that's bland enough to make vanilla pudding interesting!"

He cocked an eyebrow at her, but obediently climbed into the passenger seat.

Lois scrambled into the driver's seat and revved the engine. "What a relief to get out of that breadbox they called a loaner. I've missed my car!"

"Don't blame you," Clark agreed, blandly. He glanced at his watch. "We've got the Mayor's press conference in forty minutes. Do you want to catch a quick lunch at the Burger Hutch, or would you prefer to eat in the car?"

"Nobody's eating anything in my car, Kent! I just got it back!"

"Okay, okay! Sheesh! Don't make a Federal case out of it!"

Lois cast him a sideways look with one eyebrow raised. He was grinning, too. She told herself sternly that this was serious. "On another, more job-oriented subject, did you manage to get a quote from Superman for your article?"

He raised both eyebrows, this time. "Yeah; about four words. He was in a hurry to go stop a mugging or something."

"Well, did you pass along my message? I still need to get a more in-depth interview for the Planet's Sunday feature. Perry was all over me about it this morning."

"I told him. He said he'd try to fit it into his schedule."

"Great," Lois said. "Perry isn't going to like it."

"Well, it's not like I could follow him," Clark grumbled. "The guy is fast. Not to mention, airborne. What was I supposed to do; borrow a nearby helicopter?"

"In this business, you're only as good as your next story, Kent. We're going to have to get more about him, before the Star or the Herald beats us to it."

"The National Whisper already has," Clark said. "Didn't you see the headlines last week? 'I'm Having the Alien's Baby'? 'Superman Roosts On My Skylight'? 'I Visited Superman's Spaceship'? Not to mention the alien colony he hopes to establish in the Gobi Desert."

"You missed the part where the babe that supposedly gave Leo Nunk the spaceship interview met Superman's parents, stayed for dinner and was subjected to bizarre sexual rituals involving hypnotic chants and intelligent alien lobsters, before they implanted the mind control device in her brain."

"I didn't miss it," Clark said. "The artist's depiction of the lobsters as Superman's relatives reminded me of something out of a Disney movie, though. Only, they were waiters in the movie, I guess."

"It sounds to me as if she might need a mind control device," Lois said, dryly, "assuming, of course, that she has one to control. The attendants at the rest home are probably hunting all over Metropolis for her." She broke off. "You mean actually saw that movie?"

"I took my cousins to see it when they visited, once," Clark explained. "Besides, the alien lobsters in the spaceship were a kind of fluorescent pink. With glowing red eyes."

"At least we're pretty sure Superman's not living in an electric blender with Ben Franklin," Lois said. "Did you know Leo Nunk once actually interviewed at the Planet? I'm not sure 'interviewed' is the word, though. He waltzed in without an appointment, walked into Perry's office and four minutes later Security arrived to throw him out. End of story." She pulled the Jeep to the side of the street, a short distance from Jeanie's Snack Shop. "This looks like a good place to grab some sandwiches. We'll just have time to eat and make it back to the office."

Neither said anything else until they were several yards from the Jeep. Then, Lois said in a low voice, "If that conversation doesn't convince him I've gone around the bend, nothing will. Now what do we do? Do I have to wreck my Jeep to find an excuse to get the bug out of it?"

"Leave it for a while," Clark advised. "We can take cabs most places, or fly. Sooner or later, we'll find a good excuse to get rid of it, but if we do it too soon, he'll smell a rat. Maybe we should come up with some subjects to bore his people with for a few days. This investigation won't last forever. I just don't want him to have any suspicions about you. Not after what happened when Winninger died."

"Yeah." She heaved a disgusted sigh. "Well, while we know we're not being listened to, I have an idea about that cell phone number. You know, the one where Jimmy is having trouble finding the person it belongs to," she clarified, when he looked blank.

"Oh, that," he said. "This doesn't involve anything too risky, does it?"

"No risk at all," she said. "You know whose phone we suspect has the number. Well, this might rule it in, anyway. While I'm at dinner with him tomorrow night, you're going to call the number. If he's carrying the phone and it rings, that will tell us it's his. You can pretend it's a wrong number, or something. If he's not carrying it, but it's in his penthouse, you can listen and see if it rings, or if a servant answers it. You can hear it, if it's in the building, can't you? That will at least give us some idea if it's associated with him."

Clark blinked, listening to her involved explanation, and she watched his face as he threaded tortuously through her logic. He nodded, slowly. "Not a bad idea. At the very least it's a shot. If it vibrates, of course, you won't know it, but I will. Of course, in that case, it won't prove anything, but I can call several times and see if his phone vibrates each time I call." He pushed open the door to Jeanie's and held it for her. "We should probably pick up that lunch you promised Bobby while we're here, along with our lunches. We can leave the Jeep at the Planet and take him the food, then drop by Joey's apartment again. We still have a stakeout tonight to talk about."

"Good idea." She walked up to the counter, beginning to read the list of the items available. "How about a Pastrami Special with coleslaw instead of chips, and a hot coffee, for me, and a Deli Club Special to go. What do you want, Ch ... Clark?"

##########

##########

Denny waited while the scrawny kid with the zits behind the counter prepared the burgers and fries, added two capped containers of chocolate milkshakes and shoved the food into bags. He thrust a handful of ones at the cashier and waited for his change, shifting restlessly from one foot to the other and trying not to look at the thin, creepy guy standing beside the soda machine.

The same guy had been here the last two times that Denny had come in for food, and the way he watched while Denny was buying the burgers made the boy nervous. He reminded Denny of the pervert at the last place that CPS had placed him. The guy had constantly looked him over whenever he saw him and Denny had been afraid of him. It had been a creepy feeling to know that the guy was watching him like that, and he'd never been so glad in his life to see anybody as he had been when Jack had come to get him out. Whoever this weird guy was, he was much too interested in Denny for his liking. For all he knew, the guy could be some kind of informant for the CPS that he and Jack were trying to avoid. Or, he could be part of the reason Jack had been hiding out since Sunday night.

Neither possibility was exactly calming. The next time he went out for food, he was going to go to that sandwich place three streets south. He was getting tired of burgers and fries, anyway.

The cashier handed him several coins. "Enjoy your meal, sir," she said. Denny smiled mechanically and started for the door.

Tall, skinny guy moved quickly, obviously intending to intercept him this time. Denny scrambled through the lunchtime crowd, pushing past a mob of giggling teenage girls. He threw a quick glance at the skinny guy and the grim expression on his face. The man was going to get to the door first. Denny wiggled his way through the high school kids, muttering apologies when he accidentally trod on toes or bumped too heavily against bodies in the crowd. The man trying to beat Denny to the door was not so courteous, shoving his way rudely through the closely packed people, and in the end, it was the standard behavior of the lunchtime crowd of high school seniors that saved him.

Two muscular boys, both of whom looked to Denny like members of the football team, were horsing around, jostling other students, playfully throwing punches at each other, weaving and dodging, to the imminent peril of their fellows as they awaited their turn to order food. A punch went wide as the intended recipient ducked, causing the boy behind him to jerk sideways. His abrupt move brought him directly into the spot where the tall, skinny guy had just set his foot and the two bodies collided forcibly. Tall, skinny guy lost his footing and went down on the floor, amid a puddle of spilled ice and soda. Denny didn't wait to see any more. He ducked out the door and ran.

With a caution that living on the streets had drilled into him, Denny did not head directly back to his hideout. He dodged down the nearest alley, emerged onto a narrow back street and ran a second time. A short distance away, he ducked down a second alley. Protected from the direct sunlight by the tall buildings on both sides, the trickle of water that habitually ran the center of its cracked, concrete surface was still crusty from the below-freezing temperatures of the night before. Denny avoided the slippery patches and emerged onto another, slightly wider street, slowed to a casual walk and made his way to a narrow cross street. Halfway down it, he saw the ramshackle fence that enclosed the tiny area of a tenement's back yard and noted the fact that there seemed to be no observers. He squeezed through a space barely larger than himself, provided by the circumstance of a loose board, and pushed the splintery, wooden panel back into place. Concealed behind the row of battered and dented garbage cans provided for the convenience of the tenants, he waited, counting slowly to five thousand. After he was sure that no one had been able to track him, he would re-emerge from his hiding place and make his way via a circuitous path back to the abandoned building where his brother awaited him.

Things were getting too dangerous to stay where they were. They were going to have to change locations, and soon.

##########

##########

"That had to be the most uninformative press conference I've ever heard," Lois said crossly as they climbed back into the Jeep. "Not to mention boring, and that's saying something. I can just see the headline in the morning edition. 'Mayor Announces Dramatic Initiative for Repair of Aging Sewer System'. As if they haven't been promising the same thing every year since I joined the Planet -- and probably before that, if I cared enough to look."

"They had to say something after that sewer blow-up in front of the courthouse," Clark said.

"Yeah. They'll fix the break and then conveniently forget about the rest -- especially when some politician needs money to buy votes with."

"That's awfully cynical, Lois," Clark said.

"Just realistic, Clark. They've been starving city infrastructure for years in order to keep politicians in office. Something happens and they put another Band-Aid on it, but the fundamental problem never really gets fixed."

"Maybe after we've nailed down the Superman story we should do an expose on the subject," Clark said. "If we could bring it to the public's attention, it might actually do some good."

"Corruption in City Hall," Lois said, thoughtfully. "Not exactly in the same category as busting drug syndicates ..."

"But almost as important," Clark said. "One of these days the breakdown will be a lot worse than a sewer explosion. What if they let the maintenance on the Hobs Bay Bridge slide and something collapses during rush hour? That could be bad. Besides, political corruption is always fun to expose, especially with an election year coming up."

"That's true. Perry always likes to make the stuffed shirts in City Hall squirm," she admitted. "He says you can't ever let the guys in charge get to feeling too secure. They get arrogant and start playing games with the public's money. Personally, I don't think they ever stop playing games with it. They're just more careful not to get caught when the press starts watching them too closely."

"You mean you don't think any of the politicians in office are honest?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Have you ever heard the definition of an honest politician, Clark?"

"Maybe not the one you're thinking of," he said. "What's your definition?"

"Well, it's not mine," she said, "but it fits. An honest politician is one who stays bought. I don't know where that particular saying came from, but it's probably pretty accurate. After all, don't most politicians start out as lawyers? That's two strikes against them right there!"

Clark shook his head, but he grinned. Right or wrong, Lois certainly made no effort to hide where she stood on an issue. It was one of the things he loved about her.

It was nearly four when they walked back into the newsroom, and Jimmy Olsen passed them, bearing a stack of printouts in his arms. "I found some of the stuff you wanted," he said. "I'll tell you about it as soon as I take care of this stuff. In the conference room. Ralph has been bugging me all afternoon about your 'Superman story'. Doesn't he have anything else to do?"

"I guess writing about sex scandals probably gets boring after a while," Lois said. "I'd think it would get pretty monotonous. Maybe he's trying to turn into a real reporter."

"In that case, let him get his own story," Jimmy said. "Be right back."

Lois glanced after him and then back at Clark. "It sounds like Ralph has been bugging more than just me," she remarked.

"I think Finkelstein bugs quite a few people," Clark said, his voice unusually expressionless.

Lois cast him a curious glance. "What aren't you telling me, Kent?"

"Believe me, Lois, you don't want to know. There's a lot of gossip about both of us floating around this office, most of which originated with him."

"Really." Lois carefully did not look at their colleague. "In other words, Ralph's imagination really works overtime."

"That's one way of putting it."

"Which means that if by some chance someone is getting information from him, they must be hearing some pretty strange stuff. Maybe we should take care of that the next time we're in the Jeep."

"Not a bad idea," Clark said, thoughtfully. "And, in case he managed to get something right, we can cast doubt on anything he said."

"I think I may enjoy that," Lois said, forcibly subduing a highly uncivilized impulse. "It's about time we gave Ralph a little of his own back. Come on, let's reserve the Conference Room before somebody else gets it."

##########

##########

Barely a minute after the door of the Conference Room closed behind them, it opened again and Jimmy entered, a folder clutched in one hand. He closed it once more and ostentatiously turned the lock.

"Ralph," he said, at Lois's questioning look. "Somehow, he's got a real bee in his bonnet about your Superman story. I think he's upset about the raking down that Perry gave him right after you left."

"What was it about?" Lois asked, curiously.

"I'm not exactly sure. I only caught a few words, but Perry was really yelling. Something about being sure of his sources. I think the guy that Ralph was quoting might have got himself arrested this afternoon for planting evidence or something. Perry deep-sixed the whole article."

"Ouch," Clark said. "That has to hurt."

"Ralph should work for the 'Whisper'," Jimmy said. "Then he wouldn't have to check his sources. Once in a while they actually even print something true, like the invisible guy you helped catch back in October."

"I'm inclined to think that was a mistake by their editorial staff," Lois said. "What have you got for us?"

He laid the folder on the conference room table and opened it, removing the top sheet of paper inside. "Here's the stuff on Pete Monroe, our college student friend," he said. "I thought I'd better check up on his gambling arrests, first. He was up to his ears in debt to a group called the Fanfare Loan Corporation."

"Never heard of them," Lois said.

"They're one of those companies that specialize in high-interest loans to people who can't qualify for one with any other company," Jimmy said, removing the second sheet from his folder. "The interest rates give 'extortion' a whole new meaning. Anyway, I did a little background on them. Their corporate headquarters is in Colombia."

"Why am I not surprised," Lois said. "I take it this is leading somewhere?"

Jimmy nodded. "It's a subsidiary of a second company called Typhoon Investments, based in Brazil."

"I'm starting to have déjà vu here," Clark said.

"Me too," Lois said. "Go on."

Jimmy handed her the paper. "Curiously enough, Typhoon Investments is a subsidiary of Care International, which supposedly helps to distribute aid to third-world countries. It's not a non-profit organization, in spite of its name. It, in turn, is a subsidiary of LexCorp."

"Really," Lois said. "What a coincidence."

Jimmy nodded. "And, in another interesting coincidence, Pete Monroe's debt to Fanfare was paid in full yesterday by a gentleman named Gerald Wilson, representing him during his ... incarceration."

"Bender's firm again," Clark said.

"And through them, Lex Luthor," Lois said, glancing quickly through the windows at the newsroom. Ralph was still watching them, looking resentful and sulky. Eduardo brushed past him and Ralph said something to him. Eduardo glanced casually in the direction of the conference room, raised his eyebrows in the effect of a shrug and went on his way.

Clark was frowning when she turned back.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

Clark glanced at Jimmy. "Finkelstein seems to think we're wasting our work time."

"How do you know that?" Jimmy asked.

"Clark reads lips." Lois glanced back at Ralph again, and blinked when her partner stepped past her to pull the blinds deliberately closed. "I wonder ..."

"What?" Jimmy asked.

"I just wonder if part of Ralph's problem is that he's jealous."

"Oh, sure," Jimmy said. "He's always complaining that Perry gives you and CK all the headlines, and never gives him a chance. I tried to explain that murders and super-powered aliens usually beat out City Council sex scandals as front page news, but he just kept muttering about you two being teacher's pets."

"No wonder he keeps coming up with all those neat little insinuations," Lois said. "Well, at least now we know why he's obsessed with me and everything in pants that comes along." With a shrug, she dismissed her loose-lipped colleague. "Anyhow, what do you think our next step should be?"

Clark pushed his glasses into place with one finger. "Did you get anything on the other people on that list, Jim?" he asked.

"Petty muggers and homeless," Jimmy said. "The judge released both sets of guys on bail this afternoon."

"Naturally," Lois said. "Who supplied the bail?"

"An anonymous donor," Jimmy said.

"There seem to be a lot of those," Clark said. "Lois, if this was just a plot to intimidate you, I can't see anyone going to all this trouble, or this much expense. Besides, planting a bug in your Jeep seems to me to be an attempt to find out where you stand without arousing your suspicions. Something doesn't connect here."

Lois nodded, biting her lip. "You've got a point," she admitted, "but then why are all these things happening to Lucy?"

"What if it has nothing to do with Lucy?" Clark said. "What if there's a completely different reason?"

"And that is?" she challenged.

"Well, it suddenly occurred to me that Lucy wasn't the only common factor in all of the incidents. Brian was there, too."

"You mean, Luthor is after Brian for some reason? But he hasn't been hurt. If he had any idea that someone would be trying to hurt him, don't you think he'd be more careful?"

"Superman arrived before something happened," Clark said. "Besides, Brian might not have any idea of what's going on, any more than we really do. Jimmy ..."

"Say no more," Jimmy said. He slid behind the Conference Room computer and began to type. "Let's see what we can find out from the Data Net, for starters ..."

##########

##########

When Denny finished speaking, Jack remained silent for long enough that the younger boy began to grow more nervous than he had been at the beginning of the story.

"Look," he began, "I'm sorry if I blew it ..."

Jack gave a quick shake of his head. "No, you did great, but they're getting close. Describe this guy again. Everything you can remember."

Denny thought back, trying to picture in his mind the man who had been watching him. "He was kind of tall, and sorta skinny," he told his brother. "Had his hair -- what there was of it -- cut short. I think his eyes mighta been blue, and he had a big, black mole next to his nose. Ugly sucker."

"Sounds like Joey," Jack said. "Luthor said he was supposed to use his contacts to find his diary and the money. Looks like he's smarter, or luckier, than I thought."

"Who's Luthor?" Denny wanted to know.

"Never mind." Jack looked a little cross, but Denny suspected that it was because he'd let slip something he hadn't intended to. "Don't even say that name out loud if you want to stay alive. You're right, we gotta get outta here."

"Where are we going?" Denny wanted to know.

"I'm not sure, yet." Jack paced, striding back and forth across the littered floor. "I'll think of something. Anyway, we can't go anywhere until after dark. We'd better get our stuff together so we can carry it, because once we leave we can't come back. It won't take them much longer to find this place."

"Who are 'they'?" Denny wanted to know. "CPS?"

Jack shook his head. "I don't think so. I think this is the guy I ripped off on Sunday night. The one who collects protection money for the rackets. CPS is nothin' in comparison."

"You mean for the Boss?" Denny asked. "The Boss?"

"Where did you hear about him?" Jack asked.

Denny didn't answer. Everybody who lived on the streets knew that you didn't mess around with the Boss's business if you wanted to live. "You took his money?"

"I figured I'd be out of there before he came back," Jack said. "Anyway, there's nothing we can do about that now. We gotta find some other place to hide out. In a few more days, we're gonna get us a bus out of town. I've been checking the bus schedules you got me. We're gonna take the subway to the 45th Street station. There's a bus station there, we can catch the local westbound bus to Monte Vista, on the west side of the city, and from there we'll get another one to Pierson's Junction. After that, we'll have to see."

Denny found himself nodding. "Okay, but where are we gonna hide out in the meantime?" he asked.

"I'm thinking," Jack said. "If we go down into the subway tunnels, we'll be out of the worst of the cold weather. It's kind of drafty, but we can wear two sets of clothes, and there's plenty of places where nobody'll be able to find us. We just gotta stay away from the subway cops. In another week, the crowds are gonna be real heavy with the last minute Christmas shoppers. It'll be harder for anyone to spot us."

"Okay." Denny gulped nervously. "What should we take with us?"

"Mostly our clothes, and the money. And the book. That's our insurance policy."

"What's in the book?" Denny asked. It had to be pretty important for Jack to want to take along somebody's diary.

"Nothin' you need to know about," Jack said. "It's safer for you not to know, believe me. But if something happens to me, remember, I told you to call that Kent guy. He's a reporter. Give him the book. He'll know what to do with it. Got it?"

Denny nodded, a cold knot beginning to form in his stomach. Jack wouldn't be talking like this if he weren't pretty scared, he knew. He was trying to get the two of them out of danger, but he wasn't sure he could do it.

"Maybe we oughta call Kent anyway," he suggested. "Maybe he could help us."

"No!" Jack said. "He'll report us to CPS. He pretty much has to. If I thought we'd be safe, I might even go for it, but we won't be. The Boss can get us whether we're in the system or not."

"Maybe if we give back the money, and the diary, they'll leave us alone," Denny said, hopefully. "I mean, if they have it back, they won't have any reason to hurt us, will they?"

Jack shook his head. "Doesn't work that way," he said, curtly. "For one thing, they'll want to teach anybody else that's thinking about stealing from them a lesson. Second, they ain't gonna take a chance that one of us hasn't read the diary."

Denny stared at him. It was that important? A terrifying thought occurred to him, and suddenly he was sure that he knew why Jack was so scared. "It's his diary, isn't it? The Boss," he said.

Jack didn't answer.

"It's his, isn't it?" Denny insisted. "And you know who he really is, don't you? Jack, you gotta tell me. Is it this 'Luthor' guy?"

His brother shrugged. "Yeah," he said. "That's why we can't let 'em catch us. He won't care if we're kids."

That was for sure, Denny knew. He'd heard stories about The Boss, and they were enough to give him nightmares. "Maybe we should get rid of it," he suggested.

Jack shook his head vigorously. "If he gets his hands on one of us, that might be the only thing that keeps us alive," he said. "You understand me, Denny?"

Denny nodded, reluctantly. Carefully, he checked his pocket. The card that Jack had given him was still there. What was the guy's name? Kent?

Carefully, he shoved the card more deeply into his pocket. It was beginning to seem a lot more likely that he was going to need it.

##########

##########

"There are fourteen Brian Chows listed," Jimmy said. "I limited my search parameters to men under twenty-five, with at least one older male sibling. Do any of these pictures look familiar?"

Lois waited as he flipped through the photographs produced by the search engine. None of the photos were of the man she had met.

"That's only thirteen," Clark said.

"Yeah. The last one --" Jimmy produced the profile lacking a picture. "-- Is Brian W. Chow, the only brother of Albert Arthur Chow of Hong Kong. There wasn't any picture available."

"The second richest man in the world?" Lois said.

"Technically, the richest. The only person richer is Elena Pappas of Greece, and she's a woman."

Lois brushed aside the technicality. "Can you find a picture of Albert Chow?" she asked.

"Yeah, I think so." Jimmy worked for a minute and swiveled the monitor screen toward them. "Here you are."

Lois and Clark found themselves looking at a slightly older version of Brian Chow.

"Bingo," Clark said, softly. "Brian is Albert Chow's brother. That might explain a lot of things."

"I get it," Jimmy said, putting the information together at once. "Josef Carlin is the majority shareholder in Carlin Investments and according to all that research I did about it, Luthor has been trying to acquire a controlling interest in the company."

"Exactly," Clark said. "And, as all the information we've found so far has more or less shown, he isn't above some pretty dirty tricks when he can't acquire a company the legal way. He was probably behind the near crash of that 797 last week when Superman made his first appearance. Carlin was on that flight, and Luthor had legal papers drawn up to challenge Carlin's heirs and their inherited shares of the company."

"How do you know that?" Jimmy asked.

"I did some snooping the night of the Charity Ball, while Lois kept Luthor busy," Clark said. "Unfortunately, I couldn't get hold of the papers, but I saw them."

"And Carlin is in negotiations with Chow to sell him his shares of Carlin Investments," Jimmy said. "I sure as heck would in his place. If he doesn't get rid of his company shares, he'll probably end up dead."

"That's what we figured," Lois said. "It's possible that Luthor has hit on this way to put pressure on Albert Chow, instead. If he can keep Carlin from selling to anyone else, Luthor might be able to pressure Carlin into selling to him, cheap. By hook or by crook, he gets the company. He doesn't give up easily."

"No," Jimmy agreed. "That's pretty obvious."

"Jimmy," Clark said, "See if you can find out the current whereabouts of Carlin, and if possible, Chow. We need to warn him about the threat to his brother. And we need to find out where Lucy and Brian are right now."

"You got it, CK," Jimmy said.

"I'll try calling my apartment," Lois said. "She's probably not there, but it's a place to start." She snatched up the nearest phone and dialed for an outside line.

As she did so, she saw Clark lift his head. He gave her a quick glance, clearly torn between his wish to help find Lucy and the emergency that he was undoubtedly hearing.

"Clark," she said, instantly, "you head out and check over at the university. They may still be there." In the abstraction of the moment, she couldn't think of a better excuse, but it seemed to suffice. Clark nodded and left the office with barely restrained haste.

##########

##########

The sight of a collapsed overpass, precariously held up by the slowly crumpling roof of a school bus, was a horrifying sight. The nose of the bus was completely buried; it was a miracle that the driver hadn't been killed, but the man lay on the floor, one of his legs trapped by a huge piece of broken concrete that had smashed its way through the windshield. The man was bleeding heavily. If he were not rescued soon, he certainly would not survive. Emergency vehicles jammed the scene around the collapsed structure, where the rear of the bus protruded a few scant inches from the debris. Men milled around, trying desperately to wrench open the tightly jammed escape door in time to evacuate the terrified passengers. He could see clearly that their attempts were hampered by the fact that every time the bus shifted slightly with their efforts, the roof creaked and gave a little more.

Speeding toward the scene, Superman took in the sight with his telescopic and x-ray vision as he scanned the situation, looking for the best way to handle it with the least danger to the trapped children. It became evident that there was only one way that had a chance of working. Burrowing into the concrete would trigger the very collapse that the rescuers sought to avoid.

He came to a tight, fast landing behind the emergency workers.

"Everyone back away!" he ordered, in a voice calculated to inspire instant obedience. "Quick!"

Even the man in charge of the emergency team obeyed, although he would later wonder why on Earth he had done so. That commanding voice had seemed to override all possible protests. Superman moved so quickly that to outside observers he seemed no more than a blue and red blur, wrenching the door out of its frame with irresistible strength. The roof quivered and started to fold inward as the slight amount of support offered by the door was removed, but the Man of Steel was faster. In the blink of an eye, he was inside the bus, both of his hands supporting the crumpling metal, holding up the mountain of concrete and steel that was trying to flatten the school bus and its passengers.

"Everyone file out, now," he ordered the stunned children. "Hurry. One at a time."

The evacuation was more orderly than might have been expected. Two of the older boys moved into action, seizing the smaller children and forcibly swinging them down to the waiting hands of the emergency workers. Clark spoke to one of the rescue workers who was in the process of passing a small boy back to the paramedic behind him. "The driver's alive, but he's trapped and bleeding. I can't let go here, or the whole thing will collapse. Get a couple of men up there, and hurry."

The next few minutes were controlled confusion, but he had the satisfaction of seeing the driver pulled to safety, and assured himself that other than a slashed leg and a fractured tibia, the man was not seriously hurt. As the last of the rescuers left the bus, he released the roof, stepped quickly out, and watched as the solid metal of the school bus crumpled and folded under the weight of the overpass.

"Good work, Superman." The familiar voice made him turn his head. Inspector Henderson had arrived some time during the drama, and was now watching clinically as the bus was systematically turned into a fair approximation of a metal pancake. "I guess the citizens of Metropolis have one more thing to thank you for."

Superman scanned the tons of broken concrete and metal one last time and then spoke to the officer.

"Could I have a moment with you in private, Inspector?"

Henderson looked curiously at him, and then nodded. "Certainly, Superman."

He placed an arm around Henderson's waist and floated straight up until they hung a hundred feet in the air above the scene of the near disaster. Most men would have been startled. Henderson's expression seemed to tighten for an instant, but his voice, when he spoke, was characteristically deadpan. "When you say private, I guess you mean private."

"Sorry for the dramatics, sir," Superman said. "I wanted to be certain that no one could overhear."

One eyebrow crawled up. "And what would be so important that you need to be that careful, Superman?"

"When your investigators clear that mess away, they're going to find that the cause of that collapse was sabotage. There were videocameras installed down there, as well. Inside the overpass. In fact, there were several installed inside the bus, before it was crushed. The ones inside the overpass were installed in such a way that at least two of them were still functioning after the collapse. Someone was watching to see what happened, the same as at the bombing of the Carlin building this morning."

Henderson's face remained deadpan. "That so?"

"Inspector," Clark said, "Lane and Kent trust you, and that's good enough for me. I know that you have a good hunch about who would do something this callous -- risk all those children's lives -- simply to see what I would do. We're on the same side, here."

Henderson didn't reply at once. "How did you know?" he asked, finally.

"Let's just say, I have some abilities that aren't obvious. I've been watching the gentleman in question for some time and I wanted you to know what I'd seen here. Is there some way that I can get in contact with you in a hurry -- just in case?"

Henderson's mouth twitched and he reached into his breast pocket, to produce a card. "Take this, Superman. The number is my personal cell phone number. If you need to call me, use it -- but make damned sure it is an emergency."

"I will," Superman said. "Thank you." He began to descend. "And now, if you'll excuse me," he added, "I have a short confrontation to attend. It's high time for me to get personally acquainted with a certain multibillionaire. I want him to know that I know what he's up to."

Henderson frowned. "I don't want to tell you your business, Superman, but watch your step. This guy is dangerous."

"Thank you, Inspector," Clark said, seriously. "I know ... and I will."

##########

##########

Lex Luthor was seated at the wide, mahogany desk in his office, the one that Clark had X-rayed on the night of the Christmas Charity Ball. Clark scanned the area quickly but thoroughly, once more verifying to his own satisfaction, that there were no monitoring devices to record what was about to happen. He wanted no outside observers to this meeting; just him and Lex Luthor. He drifted undramatically down to land on the balcony outside the French windows, his shadow, cast by the westering sun, falling across the billionaire and his desk.

The only sign that Luthor had noticed his presence was the sudden cessation of movement. His hand stopped moving across the paper in front of him, and he slowly lifted his head. After a moment, he swiveled his chair around and the two men looked directly into each other's eyes.

Silently, and with the grace of the predator that he was, he rose from his chair. "Superman, I presume. Come in. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Clark opened the doors and stepped through, his gaze never leaving Luthor's. He crossed the room to remove an antique broadsword from its display case on the opposite wall.

"Alexander the Great," he said. "It was with this sword that he defeated Darius the Third and was proclaimed King of Asia."

Luthor's eyebrows rose. "You surprise me, Superman. I wouldn't have expected an alien to know Earth's history."

"You'd be surprised what I know about your planet," Clark said, still never removing his gaze from Luthor's. "I've also recently become aware of your interest in me."

"My interest ... ?"

"You want to know how strong I am, Luthor?" Clark said. He gripped the sword blade with his bare hands, twisted it into the shape of a pretzel, and tossed it aside. "Do you want to know how fast?"

He reached into another wall case and withdrew an antique six-shooter. "How convenient. It's loaded." He leveled it at Luthor's chest, watching the other man's eyes widen, and pulled the trigger.

Before the echoes of the shot had faded, he had intercepted the bullet an inch from the billionaire's nose with his bare palm. "I don't think I need to further demonstrate my indestructibility." He thrust the still smoking bullet into Luthor's hand and watched with an impassive face as the other man flinched back and dropped it to the floor.

For long second, Luthor stared first at him and then at the twisted sword. With a deliberation that Clark could see was largely forced, he removed the handkerchief from his jacket pocket and carefully wiped at the smudged spot on his offended palm. "Does that conclude your demonstration?"

Clark raised an eyebrow. "If that's what you want to call it. The tests stop now."

"Really. But what if they don't?"

Clark looked him over. "Make it happen."

"But what if they don't, Superman?" Luthor smiled suavely. Clark heard the rapid beat of his heart, betraying anger, fear, or both, but he covered it well. "You can't be everywhere at once. As long as you stay in Metropolis, innocent people will die. Are you willing to accept that responsibility?"

Clark was silent for what was, to him, time enough to think through the entire argument, but was in actuality less than a second. "If I hadn't been here, innocent people aboard that jet would have died last week. Because of you." He stared straight at the other man. "I know you, Luthor -- far better than you know me, it seems. I know who you are and what you are. Whether I'm here or not, you will kill the people whom it benefits you to kill and commit the crimes that it benefits you to commit, so I choose to stay. Be careful, Luthor. Be very careful, because I'll be watching you. You know from personal experience what a difference may exist between a public image and the truth. If you push me too far, you have no idea exactly what I am capable of or what I may do." He tossed the six-shooter carelessly to the mahogany desk, indifferent to the scratches that it left on the varnished surface, and departed in a gust of air, making no attempt whatsoever to prevent the small hurricane that he left behind from scattering the papers on the desk widely about the room.

Moments later, Clark Kent walked briskly back into the newsroom of the Daily Planet. Let Lex Luthor chew on that for a while, he thought. He, after all, had no way of knowing how much of what Superman had said was a bluff, or what his real intentions were. Jason Trask had ascribed his own morals to Superman, as it was natural for most persons to do. It was certainly possible that Lex Luthor would do the same and it might stop the tests long enough to give Lane and Kent the breathing space that they needed. At the very least, it might make him nervous, and if he became nervous, maybe -- just maybe -- he would make mistakes.

There was another possibility, however, he reflected. Luthor was arrogant. The gauntlet thrown down by Superman might prove too much for him to resist. He almost certainly wouldn't suspect what Lane and Kent had figured out, and the temptation to prove Superman powerless to stop him might drive him to be just a little careless. Either way, they had to be ready to take advantage of any opening he gave them. Lois and he had been on the defensive with Lex Luthor for too long. It was time they took the initiative.

Lois was sitting at her desk and as he came down the steps she set the phone's receiver down in its cradle with a force just short of a slam. "I can't get hold of her, Clark. I hope she's all right!"

He came to a stop beside her desk. "I've been listening for her," he said, keeping his voice down. "And for Brian, as well. So far, nothing."

She looked slightly reassured. "I guess he isn't going to have muggers jumping out of every doorway at them, is he?"

"I doubt it. There's been a new development, though. I'll tell you about it as soon as I write up the story."

"I saw the thing with the school bus," Lois said. "It was on LNN."

He nodded. "A school bus coming back from a field trip. Another test; but there's more. Let me get this to Perry and we can take off. It's past quitting time, anyhow. Then we'll see what we can do about hunting Brian and Lucy down. Did Jimmy manage to come up with a location for --" He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Ralph at his desk, "-- Brian's brother?"

"We're not getting any answers," Lois said. "Just the runaround."

Clark nodded. "Let me get this done. Maybe we can try a slightly different approach ..."

##########

##########

The breeze was chilly with the damp bite of a coming storm when Jack and Denny moved silently out the rear door of the abandoned building that they had called home for nearly three weeks.

The sun had set behind the tallest of Metropolis's skyscrapers and a deep dusk had descended upon the city. Unless the man searching for them looked very closely, it would be difficult for him to spot, or recognize, either Jack or Denny, bundled up as they were.

Both boys carried backpacks and wore two sets of clothing, and Jack had made Denny wear the leather jacket that Kent had given him.

Jack glanced carefully around and beckoned to his brother, and the two boys slipped down the alley nearest to the ancient building. The closest subway entrance was six blocks away. Denny regarded the trip as probably the most dangerous that they had ever made, except for the one through Suicide Slum three weeks back to make their way to the hideout that they had just left. Even that hadn't really been as bad, he amended. That time there hadn't been anyone looking for them but the cops. At least they wouldn't have hurt either him or Jack the way the guys looking for them now might.

Each boy carried part of the proceeds from Jack's burglary of Joey's safe on Sunday night, and Denny carried the diary tucked down inside his shirt. If something happened to the backpack, Jack had wanted to be certain that their insurance did not go with it.

Maybe, Denny was hoping, as they made their way through the dingy back streets, Jack was just being too careful. Maybe they could just get on the subway and head over to the 45th Street station, and take the bus out of town. Then they'd be away from the city and all the different people looking for them. Denny fervently hoped that things would work out that way. He was tired of living in crumbling buildings with no heat and no running water, of running and hiding, of being afraid every minute that someone was going to recognize them and take them into the custody of the System again, or worse. He just wanted to crawl into a hole someplace and not come out again until everyone had forgotten about him.

The alley through which they were currently making their way opened on one of the more brightly-lighted streets of the city, and Jack paused at the exit, looking around with great care before he beckoned Denny after him.

The multicolored strings of lights that celebrated the Christmas season looped from pole to pole above their heads, glowing softly through the light dusting of tiny snowflakes that were just beginning to filter down. The sidewalks were crowded, although the damp, chilly air had discouraged many Christmas shoppers. Jack and Denny hurried along with the mobs of pedestrians and commuters, trying not to draw attention to themselves. It wasn't likely that anyone would try to do anything to them right out in the open, Denny thought hopefully, but being this exposed made chills that had nothing to do with the December air crawl down his spine. He was relieved when they reached the crosswalk and were able to follow a crowd of men and women in heavy coats, carrying briefcases, across the street.

They reached the opposite side of the street and Jack led the way straight down the sidewalk away from the busier section, headed for an alley that opened up not far from a bakery. The smells emerging from the store made Denny's mouth water, but Jack went right on by and ducked down the dark, narrow passageway beside it. The two boys paused in the shadow and Jack wiped his forehead.

"How much farther?" Denny asked.

"We're about halfway," Jack said. They stood close to the brick wall of the old building to avoid the sharp, damp breeze that gusted down the street. A cat yowled in the big metal dumpster a short distance down the alley and an instant later another cat answered the first. The pair commenced a duet of feline challenges. Jack ignored it and wiped again at the dampness on his face. "Looks like it's starting to snow."

Denny could have told him that. The little flakes were coming down more thickly now, tiny specks of cold brushing against his face as they floated lazily downward in an unending descent. He started to reply when Jack clapped a hand over his mouth and pulled him back to crouch in the deeper shadow of the dumpster. "Shh!"

Two men passed the entrance to the alley, and the street light illuminated them clearly for the fraction of a second. Denny froze in place as he caught the distinct profile of the man who had nearly caught him earlier in the day.

"They're around here somewhere," the man said. "I saw them come this way. Check the alley."

Denny felt Jack tense beside him. A flashlight beam illuminated the cracked pavement and flashed over the walls and then the dumpster. The margin of shadow where they hid grew smaller and smaller; in another few seconds, he would see them ...

With a howl that should have raised the hair on his head -- if he hadn't already reached the limits of frozen panic -- something small and black shot out of the dumpster and dashed between the legs of the approaching man. Denny heard a spate of cuss words.

"What was that?"

"Cat." The word was short and to the point. "They're not here. Check the next alley, down that way. I'm gonna phone Vic, tell him to have his people hang out around the subway. Looks like they're heading that way. Pete's guys are already covering the bus stops."

Denny held his breath as the footsteps retreated. At last, he stirred. "Did you hear what he said? They're watching the subway! What are we going to do now?"

"Shh, I'm thinking." Jack was silent for several minutes. Finally, he said, "There's just one place I can think of. Come on, and for Pete's sake, don't make any noise! If they see us, we're dead!"

Denny obeyed. He wanted to ask where Jack was going, but knew better than to speak. They reached the end of the alley where a rickety wooden fence crossed it and spent several minutes getting over the barrier without undue noise.

Denny sucked on a splinter in the heel of his hand but said nothing as Jack dropped beside him. They stood in the shadow of the old apartment building for long minutes, avoiding the yellow puddle of light cast by a street lamp while Jack looked slowly back and forth, then scurried forth and crossed another narrow street.

"Where are we going?" Denny asked, at last.

Jack didn't answer. A moment later they stood beside another apartment building, looking up at a flight of unlighted steps. From somewhere not far away, a flashing sign partially illuminated a window that was too high for either boy to see in, but judging from the darkness behind the glass, no one was home.

"Stay here." Jack scuttled up the steps and Denny could hear a faint scratching noise, a soft exclamation of pain from Jack, and then his brother called down to him. "Come on. Quick!"

Denny obeyed, and the two boys slipped through the opening into a darkened room. Jack closed the door softly behind them, then, for several minutes they simply stood still, soaking in the unaccustomed warmth. "I think we're safe for now," Jack said, finally. "They won't think to look for us here."

"Where are we?" Denny asked.

"Kent's apartment," Jack said. "He said he wanted to help us; looks like he's gonna get the chance to put his money where his mouth is."

##########

##########

"Well," Lois said, "I guess it's just as well. At least he isn't in any doubt about where Superman stands, now."

"Lois, those tests are endangering innocent people! There were over thirty kids on that school bus!"

"I know." Lois rested a hand on his arm. Tiny snowflakes drifted thickly past them on the late evening air. It was dark, and the Christmas lights strung from the buildings made her companion's face a patchwork of red, orange and green. "It was the right thing to do, Clark. Confronting him was necessary. Now he knows that Superman's onto him, and from what you say, I think it scared him. Besides, you're absolutely right. Trask assumed that Superman would do what he would have done in the same position. Luthor probably will, too. That's an advantage for our side."

"But he's on guard, now," Clark said. "I guess I probably shouldn't have warned him, but the way things were going, sooner or later somebody was going to get killed. When I realized that the school bus accident was just another test, I wanted to wring Luthor's neck!"

Lois shrugged. "You don't get where he is without being on guard all the time, anyway. At least he doesn't know you and I are involved, and it probably really shocked him to realize that Superman had figured out who was behind the tests -- or even that they were tests. He has no way of knowing how Superman knew or what his resources are. We've made it pretty clear that our only contact with Superman has been in the course of our job."

Clark nodded. "After all, why should someone like him tell what he suspects about Metropolis's leading citizen to a couple of reporters, especially without any solid proof?"

"Exactly." Lois extracted the car key from her purse and inserted it into the passenger door of the Cherokee. "Okay, we're on."

Clark opened the door and climbed in. "One of these days," he said, mindful of the bug, "Finkelstein is going to get a punch in the mouth when he comes up with one of his insinuations."

"Clark, the man's mind has been in the gutter from the day he was hired," Lois said, as she got into the driver's seat. "I mostly ignore him."

"Yeah, well I don't like it," Clark said. "The guy's a gossip. First it's you and me, then it's you and Lex Luthor, just because you had dinner with him, and now it's you and Superman, of all people. Doesn't the man think about anything but sex?"

"Conspiracy theories," Lois said. "He's got a million of them. He even thinks Superman is a robot, which I'm sure he isn't, because I saw him breathing. I wish I knew as much about him as Ralph seems to think I do, though."

"Keep thinking 'exclusive'," Clark said. "Sooner or later, one of us will get a chance at an interview with him. We need to come up with a few questions to ask, though, instead of getting caught flat-footed."

"Something that he can answer in the few seconds before he leaves," Lois said, trying to sound frustrated. "Doesn't he ever stop moving?"

"If he does, it's not where anyone can see him," Clark said. "I haven't been able to get more than one question in edgewise before he's off to another rescue or something."

"Outside of that first interview, neither have I," Lois said. "It seems to me that Superman doesn't want us to know a lot about him."

"Yeah, I get that feeling," Clark agreed. "Oh well, the only thing to do is to keep plugging."

"Yeah." She concentrated on negotiating the rush hour traffic for some minutes.

"Do you mind walking the rest of the way home from my place?" she asked, after a time. "I'll get you those notes, and then I have some things I need to get done."

"Not a problem," Clark assured her. "It's only a few blocks."

"Thanks," she said. "I haven't had a chance to finish a bunch of stuff, considering how busy we've been."

"I know exactly what you mean," he agreed. "I'm still finishing moving in, myself, and I still have to make some repairs."

Lois pulled the Cherokee up to the curb by her apartment building. A few moments later she was unlocking her door, and Clark lowered his glasses to scan the rooms beyond.

Inside, she closed the door and looked questioningly at him.

"It's clean," he informed her.

"Whew!" She let out her breath. "I guess he decided the Jeep was a better place to overhear us."

"Probably," Clark said. "And after all, we already found one bug in your place. It's more likely that we'd look around in here." He glanced around. "Your answering machine has a message."

"Maybe it's from Lucy," Lois said, hopefully.

"With luck."

It was from Lucy. Her sister's cheerful voice emerged from the machine accompanied by the sounds of rock music, the clink of glassware and the gabble of conversation in the background.

"Hey, sis, I just wanted to let you know that Brian and I are at a big Christmas party with a bunch of his friends. I'm probably going to stay here tonight, 'cause we'll most likely all be too drunk to drive by the time it's over, so don't worry when I don't come home. You should see this house! It's a huge place out in the country. It's gorgeous! It's even got an indoor swimming pool and we're all going skinny-dipping after dinner! Well, see you tomorrow, sometime!" A squeal and a giggle punctuated the final word, and then there was nothing but a dial tone.

Lois stared at her partner. "A party! I don't believe it. Now, of all times!"

"Well," Clark said, philosophically, "at least we know she and Brian are okay for the present."

"But they don't know that Brian's been targeted by you-know-who. How are we going to warn them?"

"I guess," Clark said, "that we're going to have to wait until tomorrow -- assuming that they're not too hung over, then. How many big houses out in the country are there around Metropolis?"

"Enough," Lois said, pessimistically. "Do you suppose they're at Albert Chow's, or one of their friends' places?"

Clark shrugged. "Does Chow have a house around Metropolis?"

"Maybe." Lois frowned, trying to recall if the information had ever come up. "He supposedly lives in Metropolis for part of the year, so maybe he does. He doesn't seem to me to be the type who would rent. Maybe Jimmy can find it for us."

"I'll call him while you get ready," Clark reached into a pocket and removed a cellular phone. "I figured that since the Planet won't supply cell phones to the employees, that I'd better get one for occasions like this. If we can find out where Chow's house is, I can fly over after dark and have a look. Of course, if the party is at somebody else's place, it won't help a lot."

"I guess it's worth a shot," Lois said. "In the meantime, what should I wear?"

"Something warm," Clark specified. "There's an apartment building across the alley from Joey's, but they don't heat the units that aren't occupied."

"Yeah." Lois looked thoughtful. "We should probably take some hot coffee, too -- and maybe a blanket. You're not going in that suit, are you?"

"No. I thought I'd fly home for a change of clothes. I don't really need to worry about the cold."

"You left the sweats from the other night here -- and a jacket. Those should do. I'll get them out for you as soon as I change."

"Good idea," Clark said. "Go on. After I talk to Jimmy, I'll call D'Angelo's for some take out, and we can eat after we get there. Don't forget your binoculars."

"I won't."

##########

##########

The inside of the little apartment was almost as cold as the outside, Lois thought as she and Clark entered via the window.

They closed the glass behind them. Lois brushed the light coating of snowflakes from her hair and shoulders and trained her flashlight around the small, chilly room.

It was a furnished apartment, she saw, with what appeared to be two armchairs and a sofa, shrouded in dust covers. A somewhat battered coffee table sat, slightly askew, in front of the couch, coated with a layer of dust.

Her partner looked around, obviously unaffected by the low lighting and, with the casualness that always astonished her when he performed one of his super-human feats, inhaled sharply. The dust simply disappeared.

Clark turned to the window behind them, opened it a crack and exhaled, and Lois gaped at the long plume of dust and water vapor that condensed in the icy air without.

He closed the window, walked forward to set the bags containing their takeout meal on the coffee table, and vanished for a moment through a door that probably led to the kitchen. For an instant she heard water running and then it shut off. Clark reappeared beside her. The trace of dust on his lips had vanished.

Slowly, Lois pulled the dust covers from the furniture and dropped them behind the couch. She set her own bag on the floor. "Well," she said, "I'm guessing your mom made you do the dusting."

He grinned. "After I was a teenager, yes. It was a big timesaver."

"I can see," she said, "that you're going to be a big help around the house." Quickly, she put a hand over her mouth. "I mean, if ..."

"You should see me take out the garbage," he said, apparently unaware of her slip. "I figure I can do a lot to make myself indispensable."

As if he hadn't done that, already. She looked up from the coffee table to meet his gaze, her cheeks burning. "I don't mean to assume --"

Clark crossed the space between them in two steps. "You can assume anything you want, Lois. You know how I feel."

They were standing practically touching one another. "You're sure, Charlie -- really sure?" She studied the front of his sweatshirt. "Really, really sure?"

"I'm so sure that I'd marry you today, if you'd go for it," he said. "Lois, I've never felt this way about anybody before. With you I feel ... as if I belong. I've never felt that way before. I've always been an outsider, even when other people didn't know it."

"That's funny you know," she said, trying hard to swallow the sudden lump in her throat. "I've always been an outsider, too; even in the newsroom, I was always on the outside. But when I'm with you it's different. I don't feel that way. Do you suppose that means something?"

"I don't really care," he said. "Maybe we can be outsiders together. I could live with that."

"So could I," she said. Somehow his arms had snaked around her and she hadn't noticed. He leaned down, giving her plenty of opportunity to protest, but she didn't.

After several uncounted minutes while her brain seemed to have completely stopped working, he lifted his head and looked down at her. "Will you marry me, Lois Lane?"

She gulped. "Charlie, are you sure you're sure?"

"Absolutely, unquestionably sure. Will you?"

"What about the six months?"

"That was an arbitrary figure," he said. "Besides, we can be engaged for six months if you like. Will you?"

He really meant it, she thought. She knew he'd said that he was serious over and over, but almost subconsciously she'd kept expecting him to change his mind. Well, she'd given him enough chances. "Yes," she said.

It was the last thing she had a chance to say for some time. When he finally let her go, they were seated on the apartment's slightly battered sofa and he reluctantly released her long enough to reach for the blanket she had had the forethought to bring.

"It's freezing in here," he said. "Put this around you. I don't want you to catch pneumonia."

She let him tuck it around her. "You're very persistent, Mr. Kent," she said.

He grinned. "My dad always told me that if I wanted something badly enough, I should go after it single-mindedly. My dad is a smart guy."

"He must be," Lois said, sincerely. "He married your mother. Really though, Charlie, are you absolutely sure that --"

"Hey," he said, "you've agreed. I'm not letting you wiggle out of it, now."

"I just wanted to be sure that you're sure ..."

"I'm sure," he said.

Silence for a time. She snuggled into the curve of his arm, and decided that being in a cold apartment with Charlie definitely had its positive side.

Finally, he stirred. "I think I'm going to have to heat up the soup and the coffee before we eat," he said. "Are you ready for dinner?"

Surprisingly, she was hungry. She nodded, and waited while he laid out the meal on the coffee table. "Hot coffee sounds good," she remarked, as he handed her the styrofoam cup. "What's going on over in Joey's place?"

Clark lowered his glasses and glanced in the direction of the other apartment building. "Nothing, so far. He's not home yet."

"I'd like a chance to look around in the place," she said. "Maybe when we're sure he isn't coming back for a while ..."

"Maybe, but let's wait for now. We don't want to be there when he walks in."

"I said, 'when we're sure he isn't coming back for a while'," Lois said. "I'd sure like to know where he kept the money that got stolen."

"There's a wall safe opposite the window behind that picture," Clark said. "Ten to one he stashed it there."

"Is there anything else in it?"

Again, he lowered his glasses. "Looks like a bag of money."

"Protection money," Lois said.

"Probably. I wouldn't keep fifteen thousand-odd dollars in a paper sack."

"Neither would I," Lois agreed. "So, now I guess we eat our dinner and wait."

They were just finishing their meal when Clark's cellular phone produced a rendition of the first notes of "Fly Me to the Moon". Lois raised an eyebrow at him but didn't comment. Clark flipped it open. "Kent ... oh, hi, Jimmy. You did? Hmm. That figures. Well, if you come up with anything, let me know, would you? Okay, thanks."

"I take it he couldn't find the address," Lois said.

"Not yet. He's going to try a couple more things and call us back if he gets any results," Clark said. He lowered his glasses and glanced at the apartment. "It would be just our luck if Joey decides not to come home tonight."

"Yeah," Lois said. She held out her coffee. "Could you heat this up again?"

Clark obliged. "Maybe I should have brought some games for us to play."

"I don't know. Board games by flashlight might be a little difficult," Lois said. "Is anybody likely to check on this place at this hour?"

"I doubt it, but if they do I'll have enough warning for us to hide," he said.

"I guess we'd better get rid of the debris," Lois said.

"No sooner said than done." Clark scooped the wrappers and cups into the large bag. "I'll just stick this in the kitchen for the time being. Let's hope Joey doesn't take too long."

It was nearly midnight when the chimes of Clark's phone jolted Lois out of a light doze. She stirred as he unwrapped an arm from her shoulders to flip open the little device. "Kent." He listened for a moment. "Good work, Jimmy. Thanks."

"I guess he got the address?" Lois asked.

"He did. I think Superman needs to fly over and see if he can get in touch with Brian and Lucy. Can you hold down the fort here while I take a look?"

Lois straightened up, shaking herself a little. "Sure, no problem."

Clark stood up and became a miniature tornado, to emerge in his blue suit. "Back in a few minutes." With a gust of air, he was gone.

Lois stood up, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and reached for the binoculars.

The other apartment was still dark; Joey hadn't returned, of course. She sat back on the couch, rubbing her arms. Without Clark beside her the room seemed considerably colder than it had a few moments before. After several minutes, she had to shake herself awake.

This would never do, she thought. She was going to fall asleep or freeze to death if she didn't do something.

She glanced again at the dark apartment across the alley. Surely if the guy hadn't come home yet it wasn't likely that he was going to show up in the next few minutes. Moving quietly, she got to her feet and tiptoed across the rug and cautiously put her ear against the door to the hall, listening.

Silence. With even more caution, she eased the door open. The hinges squeaked in protest, but the hallway beyond was empty. Moving quickly and silently, Lois slipped out into the hall. Closing the door, but leaving it unlocked, she headed toward the stairs. This should only take a few minutes, she thought. Better than wasting the whole night in a freezing apartment. Sometimes, Charlie was much too cautious. This was just what she needed to wake up, and who knew what kind of evidence or information she might find in Joey's place?

##########

##########

The Chow mansion was lit up like a Christmas tree, Clark thought as he approached from above. If the party that Lucy had spoken of wasn't being held here, a bunch of housebreakers had certainly gotten much too carried away. He'd seen plenty of Christmas decorations on a lot of homes during the holiday season, but this one had gone all out. He could hear splashing and shouts coming from one of the wings of the building, but he refrained from using his x-ray vision on what was almost certainly the indoor pool. Lucy's description of the entire group going skinny-dipping after dinner made him cautious. A swimming pool full of drunken skinny-dippers had the potential to present all kinds of embarrassing situations for a well-intentioned super hero. He just hoped that somebody sober was acting as a lifeguard.

Still, he had to talk to someone about this situation. A moment's consideration made him reject the option of presenting himself at the door in his civilian guise. People like Albert Chow had servants that were well-trained in dealing with the media in all its guises. The only way he was going to get in would be as Superman, and even that wasn't assured.

After due consideration, he circled back the way he had come and approached a second time at supersonic speed, producing in the process a satisfying sonic boom. Landing on the front doorstep of the mansion, he avoided a pair of German shepherds by the simple expedient of floating horizontally a few feet in the air and reached down to ring the doorbell.

From inside the house, he heard a musical chime that played out the first two lines of "Silent Night". While he was waiting, an individual dressed in the uniform of a security guard approached: to all appearances the dog handler. The man gaped at him for a long five seconds and then called off the barking, jumping canines. Clark dropped to the ground with a word of thanks.

The doors swung slowly open, and a man clad in the formal garb of a butler stood in the opening. He raised his eyebrows infinitesimally at the sight of Clark, in all his colorful glory.

"May I help you, sir?" he inquired, in a voice devoid of all human passion.

"I hope so," Clark said. "I'm looking for Mr. Albert Chow, or, failing that, his brother, Brian."

"And who may I say is calling?" the butler asked.

"Superman," Clark said, keeping his face straight with an effort.

"Your business, sir?" the butler continued.

"That's confidential," Clark said. "It's very important that I speak with one of them."

The butler regarded him for several seconds. "Very well, sir. If you will follow me ..." The man stood back to allow him entry and closed the doors behind him. He escorted Clark down a hallway large enough for a small parade to pass, decorated with Christmas garlands and a thirty-foot Christmas tree that glittered against one wall. Clark was aware that a number of persons, mostly in the uniforms of the serving staff, were peering at him from various vantage points, but he gave no sign that he had noticed. At last, the butler stopped and opened a door. "Be kind enough to wait in the Library while I inform Mr. Chow of your arrival," the man said, still without the slightest sign of interest in his voice.

The Chow library, Clark thought, rivaled the public library a few blocks from the Daily Planet, at least in size. He stood silently with his arms folded across his chest, presenting the picture of the staunch, emotionless superhero for the benefit of any observers, but with his super vision and hearing, he followed the progress of the butler to an office some distance across the big house. He knocked, and a moment later, entered.

A man was sitting at a desk, working at a computer and, from his picture, Clark recognized him immediately. He looked up as the butler entered. "What is it, Jacob?"

"Sir, Superman is here and wishes to speak with you."

Albert Chow's eyebrows climbed perceptibly. "Superman?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did he say why?"

"He said it was a private matter, sir."

"Hmmm." Chow frowned briefly. "All right, Jacob, since he wants to speak with me privately, bring him here."

"Immediately, sir."

Clark waited, monitoring the butler's progress back to the library. The man opened the door. "Mr. Chow will see you in his office, sir."

"Thank you," Clark said, and followed him out.

##########

##########

Lois moved quietly through the darkness. Tiny flakes sifted down, lightly coating her hair and shoulders. The moon had not yet set, but its radiance made only a slightly brighter spot in the clouds that covered the sky. The decrepit apartment house was mostly dark. One window on the second floor glowed with a dim light, but otherwise the darkness was complete.

She glanced at her watch. The palely glowing numbers told her that it was quarter after twelve. Clark would probably be back before long. She had to make this fast.

Slowly, she circled the building, looking for a less obvious method of entrance than the front door and halfway around her diligence was rewarded by the sight of a rusty fire escape dangling a couple of feet beyond her reach. A wooden crate some feet farther down the way caught her attention, and she appropriated it without further internal debate.

Standing the box on end for the greatest lift, she stepped carefully onto it, grimacing at the unsteadiness of her footstool but, standing on tiptoe, her fingertips now just brushed the lowest rung. There was no help for it; she was going to have to jump.

Carefully, she bent her knees, trying not to unbalance her rickety support. One of the slats under her foot cracked ominously. This was likely to be her only chance; if she didn't break the box when she jumped it would be a miracle. For several seconds she looked upward, trying to gauge her actions as closely as possible, and had to brace one hand against the rough wall of the building as the box wobbled precariously. If she hesitated much longer, she was either going to fall or break the box. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her knees in as powerful a leap as she could manage.

The box tipped as she jumped, and she heard the splintering of the wood, but one of her hands caught the rusty, metal rung, and she swung for a second before managing to grasp it with her other hand.

With a screech that lifted the hair on her head, the ancient metal ladder descended. Lois helped it along, grasping successively higher rungs until she could get a foot onto the lowest, and began to climb.

The metal rungs were slippery, and she had to make her way carefully up the side of the building, but the fire escape passed a window on the second floor as it continued on to the building's roof. Lois stopped and examined the window carefully.

There was darkness beyond the uncurtained glass. Two pale night-lights glowing ineffectually in wall plugs did little to dispel the gloom but from what she could see there appeared to be a hallway on the other side. This would be a perfect way in, if she could get the window open, she thought, but it would probably be too much to hope that the pane would be unlocked.

There was no window lock. For a moment she didn't realize what she was seeing. The lever that was supposed to slide into place to secure the window was completely missing. Lois fished in the pocket of her jeans for the lock pick that she always brought on surveillance jobs and began to pry at the wooden pane. She would most likely have to replace the instrument later, but if it got her in, she could stand the minor expense.

It took several minutes, but finally, at the cost of several deep gouges in the wood, the pane moved upward half an inch. She got splinters in her fingers, and tore a nail, but the window slid slowly open with a minimum of noise. The ancient wood crumbled somewhat under her efforts, and she suspected that termites might have been busy, but at last she was able to squeeze through the gap on her stomach.

She caught herself on her hands, slithered to the floor and scrambled to her feet. Quickly, she slid the window shut and hurried to put distance between herself and the fire escape. If anyone came out to investigate the noise, she didn't want him to find her there.

Judging by the window count, Joey's room should be the fifth door down the hallway, on her left. Lois hurried down the dark, narrow passage, her footsteps muffled on the threadbare carpet. The fifth door was closed and anonymous, just like all the others. She pressed her ear against it, listening.

Silence. Joey still wasn't home. Lois glanced up and down the darkened hallway. No one was in sight, although a dim light could be seen beneath another door farther along the passageway. Quickly, she extracted her lock pick again. Hopefully, prying open the window hadn't done too much damage to it. Holding her breath, she inserted the pick and the little piece of flat metal and felt around, jiggling the inner mechanism and aligning the shear points.

The lock certainly wasn't a fancy one, she was thinking a moment later. If she had lived in a place like this she would have replaced it with one of her own on the day she moved in. As cautiously as she could, she turned the knob and eased the door open, wincing at the squeak of hinges that sounded like an emergency siren to her ears.

Darkness met her gaze. She slipped through the door, closed and locked it behind her, and leaned against the wooden panel for a moment. At least this way she would have some sort of warning if Joey should inopportunely return home.

The window had no curtain; she dug in the pocket of her jacket for her penlight. Conducting a search by its narrow beam wasn't exactly ideal, but she had done more difficult things. Her first target was the bedroom. The room was small enough to give her claustrophobia, but it had no windows to the outside, and she was able to turn on a single table lamp, battered and minus its shade, to assist in her search.

The single dresser held underwear, four T-shirts, several pairs of socks, a bow tie, and nothing else. The doorless closet revealed several shirts, slacks and one sports coat hanging from the rack. A single valise sat alone on the shelf above it, and it was quite empty. Methodically, Lois searched every possible storage place, making certain that when she finished everything was as she had found it.

The drawer to the scratched and peeling bedside table yielded a pack of cigarettes, a book of matches and a handgun that she carefully didn't touch. Frustrated, she turned back toward the living room, switching out the lamp before she opened the door. Shielding the beam of her penlight with one hand, she looked around the living space. The big picture on the wall concealed a wall safe, she knew, but Clark had already said there was nothing but a paper sack of money inside. The coffee table had no drawers, and neither did the end table, but the kitchen alcove had drawers aplenty.

Carefully cupping her free hand over the beam of the penlight, she examined the contents of the kitchen cabinet. Silverware, of course, and cooking implements. An oven mitt with a dark, charred spot on the end. Two kitchen towels that were, surprisingly enough, clean and neatly folded. Lois paused, looking around. This place was turning out to be a major disappointment.

There was a small, narrow drawer beside the stove that she hadn't checked. Considering how barren the rest of the place was her expectations weren't exactly high at this point, but she opened it on principle.

The drawer seemed to be living up to her non-expectations she thought a moment later. It appeared to be half-filled with odds and ends of junk. Without much hope, Lois flashed her light over the contents. The only thing that might be of interest was an unsealed envelope that had been shoved into the back, on top of the rest of the junk. She extracted it and opened the flap.

There were photographs inside, and fairly recent, she thought. She took them out, and examined them with a growing sense of discovery.

They appeared to be a series of grainy photos taken by a security camera, if she was any judge. It showed an indistinct image of what was probably a teenage boy, his face down, and obviously running, clutching a large sack in one hand. The image resolution was definitely not of the best, but in one photo the camera had caught the fugitive's profile. The surroundings behind the indistinct figure could have been any small entranceway to a building but she strongly suspected by its appearance that it belonged to this building. Now what on Earth ...

Lois stared at the prints, her mind racing. Why would the man have a set of pictures like this, unless ...

... Unless this was the thief who had robbed Joey's apartment and taken his protection money ... and possibly the diary.

The longer she looked at them, the more certain she became that that was exactly what she was looking at. The fugitive's features were somewhat blurry, but she thought that if she met the person in question, she might very well recognize him. Quickly, she stuffed the photos back into their envelope and shoved it into the pocket of her jacket. Clark had to see these. With his enhanced eyesight, he might be able to tell more about the thief than she could. In any case, she had pushed her luck far enough this evening. It was time to leave.

It was then that she heard the rattle of a door key in the lock.

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