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.

3. The Hottest Team in Town 3

"What can I do for you, Superman? May I offer you some coffee or tea?" Albert Chow rose to his feet as the butler exited, closing the door of the office behind him. The man's faint accent told Clark that English was not his native language, but he doubted that anyone else would have noticed. Chow was a slender, good-looking man of about average height, who appeared to have a combination of Asian and Caucasian in his ancestry, and possibly some Pacific Islander as well, but his air of assurance made him seem taller and more imposing than his physical appearance. Clark took the hand he extended, and found himself responding to the other man's smile.

"Actually, it's something that I can do for you," he said.

"Oh?" Chow waved to an armchair on one side of his office. "Would you like to sit down?"

Clark smiled. "Thank you." He swept his cape backwards and sank into the chair. "Mr. Chow, I'll get right to the point. I've had to rescue your brother and his friend, Ms. Lane, from several acts of apparently random violence in the last couple of days, and I have some reason to think that the incidents aren't as random as they might seem."

Chow regarded him thoughtfully. "He told me. You say that you think the attacks weren't random? I have to admit, I wondered. When you're in my position, seemingly random happenings often aren't."

Clark nodded. "I suspect that someone may intend to use your brother as a lever in an attempt to put pressure on you. If there's any way you can take steps to protect him ..."

The billionaire didn't speak for a moment. "I see. I can't say I'm particularly surprised. If you suspect something of the sort, can you tell me who you believe to be behind it?"

Clark restrained a shrug. "I have some strong suspicions, Mr. Chow, but no proof. Not yet, anyway."

Chow looked at him without expression long enough to make him want to squirm. He controlled the impulse with difficulty, and nearly jumped when Albert Chow spoke suddenly. "Superman, let's be honest. You're talking about Lex Luthor, aren't you?"

He should have been surprised, Clark thought, but somehow he wasn't. Albert Chow was one of Lex Luthor's business competitors, after all, and in spite of Luthor's ruthless style, still managed to maintain his position as the wealthier and more successful of the two. He had probably had occasion to watch Luthor in action, at least in a business setting. "Yes."

The businessman smiled dryly. "I appreciate your caution, but you don't get into a position like mine without learning a few things about your business rivals. Mr. Luthor and I have locked horns a few times in the past. This revolves around Carlin Investments. Am I right?"

Clark nodded.

"Yes, Josef Carlin was quite frank with me on the subject." Chow smiled again. "I hadn't, however, considered that Luthor might attempt to use Brian as a lever, and I should have, being familiar with some of Mr. Luthor's other -- shall I say, somewhat original -- methods of persuasion. Like you, I know certain things, but have no proof. However, forewarned is forearmed. You can safely leave the rest of the matter in my hands. I appreciate the warning, and thank you."

Clark stood up. "In that case ..."

Chow also rose. "I'll have Jacob show you out. I find it encouraging that someone else seems to understand Mr. Luthor like I do. It's quite frustrating to be aware of certain facts and to be able to prove none of them. You give me reason to hope." He smiled at Clark, an expression of genuine friendliness. "I hope to see you again, Superman. If I can ever be of help to you, don't hesitate to ask."

##########

##########

Lois crossed the floor of the tiny apartment with a speed that would have done credit to her partner and dived into the pocket-sized bathroom. She had barely ducked out of sight when she heard the squeal of hinges as the door to the hall opened. The living room light came on.

"Really, Joey, I don't understand how you can live in such squalid quarters," a man's voice said.

"Never mind the criticism of my interior decorator," a voice that must belong to Joey said. "You can tell your boss that I've got a lead on his money."

"And the diary?" The cultured, British voice was soft, but the words were underlined with menace.

"Maybe. There's rumors about it," Joey's voice replied, uneasily. "As soon as we get our hands on the guy, we'll get it out of him."

"And who is this person?" the British voice inquired.

"A kid," Joey's voice said. "A petty thief."

"And how would a petty thief acquire the diary?" The other man's voice dripped frost.

"I meant the money," Joey said. "There's a rumor about the diary, but it's more whispers. They say somebody's got it for protection."

"Possession of that diary is more of a death warrant than protection," the cold, British voice said. "I hope, for your sake, that you can acquire it very soon. The Boss --" The voice paused for emphasis. " ... Has sent me with a message. His patience is running out. Don't waste time. You have very little of it at your disposal."

"I told you, I'm working on it," Joey said, his voice perilously close to a whine.

"Very well, we'll say no more about it for now. Where are the pictures of which you spoke?"

"In here." The voice had changed its location, Lois thought. Joey seemed to have moved toward the kitchen alcove. "I had to pull some strings, but I got the film from the camera in the lobby. I've seen this kid around for three or four weeks. Homeless, got a brother that lives with him. Nobody'll notice if they disappear."

"That, of course, is always a benefit," the other voice said. It sounded faintly familiar, Lois thought, as if she had heard it somewhere before, but she couldn't identify it. She heard a soft, scraping sound, and a sudden exclamation. Something rustled.

"What is it?" the British voice asked.

"They're gone!"

"The photos?"

"Yeah! They were right here! Somebody's taken them!"

"Really, Joey ... another robbery? This is becoming rather farcical, don't you think?"

"I'm not kidding! Somebody's taken the envelope! I put it right here, just this morning!"

"I grow tired of your mistakes." The voice had become colder and more menacing than ever. "I suspect my employer will say the same."

"It wasn't a mistake! I've been robbed!"

"Your security measures leave a good deal to be desired as well," the British voice said. There was an extended silence, and Lois could feel the danger hanging in the air. At last, the voice spoke again. "To use a hackneyed metaphor, this is your second strike. Another mistake will be your last. Is that clearly understood?" More silence, then there was the sound of muffled footsteps. A door opened and closed. In the other room, Lois heard a string of swear words and then silence.

##########

##########

Lois flattened herself back against the wall of the bathroom, hoping against hope that Joey, now that he was alone, would decide to go to bed or something. What was it with these bad guys, anyway? Didn't they ever sleep? Of course, after that conversation, she acknowledged, he might be too scared to sleep. It seemed that for Joey, things were rapidly becoming more than a little pressing.

If the guy came in here, he was going to find her for certain, and he wasn't likely to be very understanding about her presence, since the fatal missing photographs were in her pocket. A half-hearted glance at the shower told her that it offered no concealment worth the name.

Footsteps crossed the floor and she heard the refrigerator open and close. More footsteps, and springs creaked. She heard Joey muttering under his breath, and the pop of a can opening. She sneaked an eye past the doorframe. Joey was sprawled backward on the couch, a beer can in one hand and a second can sitting on the table. He hadn't even bothered to remove his jacket, and as she watched, he downed the contents of the can in five swallows.

He pitched the can at a trash receptacle across the room. The object bounced off the rim, but he was already opening the second one. Lois lifted a brow. That certainly wasn't going to improve his ability to think.

He took slightly longer to finish the second, threw the can at the trash with even less accuracy and hoisted himself from the sofa with a grunt. Lois pulled quickly back behind the doorframe, her heart pounding.

Footsteps crossed the rug and again the refrigerator door opened. Something clinked, and then there was the sound of breaking glass. Joey cursed.

More clinking, and the rattle of something metallic. She peeked again, but could see nothing but the top of his head above the sofa back. He must, she thought, be sweeping up whatever had broken.

He hoisted himself clumsily to his feet, his back toward her, and she heard him dump something into the kitchen trashcan. A moment later, the refrigerator door opened again.

What was she going to do? The faint hope that he would decide to retire to bed was growing fainter by the moment. Sooner or later, those beers were going to catch up to him and her presence would be discovered.

Joey emerged from the refrigerator with another beer. Without leaving the kitchen, he popped the top and took a long drink. Setting the can on the drain board he turned back to the refrigerator.

The loud shrilling of a bell almost made Lois jump out of her skin. Joey jerked upright, seemingly befuddled for a moment, then rushed into the living area. Without pausing, he shoved aside the picture that hung on the wall.

He was opening the safe, Lois thought in surprise. Then the significance of the bell penetrated to the thinking portion of her brain. It was the fire alarm.

The safe door swung open. Joey grabbed for the contents and dashed for the door.

The hall was full of smoke. Lois saw him hesitate in the opening and then exit into the greyish haze that was now pouring into the apartment. The fire must be down below, she thought, and decided that now wasn't the time for caution. The fire department might be on its way, or it might not, but there was one emergency service that she knew could get there more quickly than any other.

"Help!" she screamed. "Help! Superman!"

##########

##########

Clark was already on his way back when he heard Lois's scream.

He had heard the clanging of the fire alarm, and was homing in on it, but he could have picked the voice of his partner out of a million louder sounds and distinguished it from those of uncounted other similar voices. He put on a burst of speed toward the apartment where he had left her.

He was there in less than five seconds, leaving a sonic boom that far dwarfed the one he had made on his way to the Chow mansion echoing in the air behind him.

A hasty peek showed him that Lois was no longer in the apartment where he had left her, but her voice had come from somewhere close by, and smoke was pouring from the lower windows of the apartment building that housed Joey McPherson. Knowing his partner, she was probably in the middle of it.

A quick scan with his x-ray vision showed the rug in the downstairs hallway to be ablaze, and flames were licking hungrily at the floor and walls. The building's sprinkler system was leaking thin streams of water from the sprinkler heads, but it was obvious that they were completely inadequate to fight the fire.

There were flames on the second floor as well. At one end of the hall -- the one that opened on the fire escape -- the rug was also blazing. There was fire in the inner stairwell and if there were sprinklers anywhere, they certainly weren't working. He could hear the panicked screams from the residents of the upper floor as they realized that they were trapped.

Something was wrong with the scenario, he thought. The distribution of the burning areas seemed odd, to say the least, but he didn't have time to follow up on the thought. He yanked open the window that gave onto the fire escape, took a deep breath and blew. Icy cold air extinguished the flame almost instantaneously. He flew through the opening over the heads of frightened people crowding toward the window, aware of the distant sound of sirens growing rapidly closer, and yanked open the door to the stairs.

The stairwell was an inferno, but it had caused surprisingly little damage for a fire that had managed to get this far. Another blast of freezing breath put out the flames, and as he did so he smelled it. Gasoline. The fire had been set.

Outside, the sirens had swelled to a deafening crescendo, and began to cut off as emergency vehicles pulled up outside. The rug in the lower hall was also blazing, he saw as he stepped out of the stairwell on the first floor, and flames were licking at the walls and ceiling. The odor of gasoline was almost overpowering. Expeditiously, he put out the fire here, as well, then looked around, scanning the building with his x-ray vision. Lois had to be somewhere around here, he thought. He could hear her heartbeat.

A firefighter was standing in the doorway when he turned, fanning at the smoke. He eyed Clark with an awed expression on his face. "What happened?" he demanded.

"The fire was set," Clark said. "I put it out."

The man sniffed. "Yeah. I can smell the gasoline. Is anyone hurt?"

"I haven't had a chance to check," Clark said. "It seemed like a good idea to put out the fire before it got any farther."

"Yeah." The man turned and gave a whistle that made him wince. "Hey, Chief! Superman's put out the fire! Let's get some help in here!"

Lois was above him, Clark thought, and if he were a betting man, he'd be willing to wager a considerable sum on exactly where she was. His x-ray vision confirmed his guess a second later. His partner was crossing the living area of Joey's tiny apartment, toward the window. Clark lifted over the heads of the firefighters and the half-hysterical residents of the building, flew up the stairs and whisked into the room.

Lois turned at the sound of his feet hitting the carpet, an expression of alarm on her features that quickly turned into one of relief. "Superman!"

He looked around. "I suppose," he said, "that it would be silly of me to ask what you're doing here."

"Of course it would," Lois said. "Get me out of here, would you?"

##########

##########

"Joey's vanished," Clark said.

Lois jammed her hands into the pockets of her jacket. Snow fell, the tiny, glittering flakes sifting down endlessly, clinging to her eyelashes and coating the shoulders of her coat with a layer of white that didn't melt. "Why am I not surprised? I take it you're sure he isn't dead or something."

"I scanned the whole building," Clark said. "No bodies. I'd say that he took the opportunity to vanish, along with his protection money. We know he was scared of what they were going to do to him. All that confusion would be a perfect opportunity to get away without being seen by whoever was watching him."

"Yeah. That character that was talking to him in his apartment could even have started the fire, for all I know. If it hadn't been for Superman, the place would probably have burned to the ground."

"It might have, even with the fire station as close as it is," Clark said. "If Superman hadn't shown up when he did, most of the people on the upper floor wouldn't have made it. Whoever poured the gas out made sure that the escape routes were blocked, and the building's sprinkler system isn't worth the name."

Lois shook her head. "That's pretty much the norm with most of the buildings around Suicide Slum. I wrote an article about it last year, but nothing much got done. The guy who was talking to Joey probably knew it. The slumlords who own these places never seem to get prosecuted. I suspect the Boss has his finger in the rental industry, too."

"Probably," Clark said. "This guy that was talking to Joey -- you say he threatened him?"

Lois nodded. The two of them were standing on the sidewalk across from the apartment house a short distance from a crowd of spectators, watching the proceedings. "He said it was Joey's second strike. Do you suppose he lied?"

"Could be. Just to keep Joey from running prematurely." Clark dusted the snow from her shoulders. "Let's go. You got the story for the Planet, and you're cold. I'm sure we can talk this over just as well in your apartment as out on the sidewalk in the snow."

The flight to Lois's apartment was accomplished in a bare five minutes after they had stepped into an alley a block farther down the street. Clark set her down on the rug of her living room and scanned the apartment, as he now did routinely, for spying devices. There were none.

Lois was removing her coat. "Brr! I don't think I'm ever going to be warm again!"

"I have to admit, I've been on some stakeouts under worse conditions," Clark said, "but not many. Hold still."

She obeyed and he carefully swept her with his heat vision from head to toe, dispelling the chill.

"Thanks." She rubbed her arms.

"Don't mention it. Want to fill me in on exactly what happened in that apartment?"

Lois shrugged. "Well, I was falling asleep just sitting there waiting for you," she said, a little defensively, "so I decided to look things over a little more closely."

Clark shook his head, trying not to smile. "I guess I'm not really surprised."

"Clark, I didn't get where I am by being too careful! I told you before that I tend to jump in without checking the water level -- but it's the only way I know how to do it -- to get the job done. To get the respect I want -- that I deserve. I --"

"Lois." He closed the distance between them in a single step and put his arms around her. "I didn't say anything."

She shook her head. "No, but I knew you wanted me to wait for you. I probably should have, but ..."

"Honey, have I ever asked you to change the way you do your job?"

Again she shook her head. "No, but -- you know other reporters won't work with me because of the risks I take."

"And the point of this is what?" He kissed the tip of her nose. "I'm not other reporters, you know. If I'm going to spend the rest of my life with you, then I have to accept you the way you are. I don't want you to try to be somebody else. But let me tell you something." He tightened his arms around her. "What you said about respect? I hear a lot of things that people don't expect me to hear, and in spite of the fact that they won't work with you, everybody at the Planet -- everyone, even Ralph -- thinks you're just about the best reporter they've ever known." He met her eyes squarely, trying as hard as he could to convey his sincerity. "The reason they won't work with you is that they know they can't keep up. As a matter of fact, I've acquired a totally undeserved reputation because I can, and because you've made it clear that you want to work with me." He held her back a few inches so he could see her expression. "Lois, you don't have to prove anything to anyone. You already have, time and again. You earned their respect a long time ago, honey. You were right about Ralph, you know. He's so jealous of you that he can't see straight."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Really. And, in case I haven't made it clear, I think you're pretty terrific, too."

She swallowed. "I didn't realize ..." Her expression changed suddenly. "What did you call me?"

The abrupt change of subject surprised him. "What?"

"You called me honey." A slow smile began to form on her lips. "You know, I never thought of myself as anyone's honey. I kind of like it."

"So do I."

She slid her arms around his neck. "Do you have any other names for me?"

He caressed her cheek with one hand, leaving streaks in the light coating of soot that they had both acquired at the scene of the fire. "Sweetheart? Darling? My little ... tornado?"

Lois giggled. "Oh, this is disgusting."

"Not a bit," Clark said, with a smile. "I can't wait until I can call you all those things in public. The sooner we get this investigation finished and put you know who behind bars, the sooner I can start." He pulled her toward the highly uncomfortable sofa that graced her living room and sat down, one arm firmly around her shoulders. "Now, do you suppose you could give me a slightly clearer idea of what went on in that apartment this evening?"

"Sure." Lois reached into the pocket of her jeans. "Here."

He took the envelope. "What's this?"

"These are pictures from the surveillance camera in the entrance of Joey's apartment house. I think this may be the person who committed the robbery where he lost the protection money -- and maybe the diary."

"What?" Clark opened the flap and shook the contents into his hand.

The pictures were grainy and indistinct, but not so indistinct that he couldn't identify the boy in the photograph. One of them gave a fairly clear profile view, and to his enhanced vision, there was no doubt of the thief's identity.

"Oh man," he said.

"What?"

"I caught this kid breaking into my apartment the other day," he said. "His name is Jack. I've been keeping an eye on him ever since."

"Why didn't you just turn him over to the cops?" Lois asked.

"I had my reasons." He stood up. "I'll tell you about it when I get back."

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To find Jack. If these people know who he is, he's in danger -- and if he actually has the diary, this could be our big break."

##########

##########

The abandoned building that this morning had housed Jack and Denny was empty. Clark landed in the alley behind the place and a moment later was walking into the ancient building.

The blanket that the two boys had used to block the freezing wind was gone, and all their possessions had disappeared as well. The mattress that had served them for a bed was still there, as were several paper bags that had contained fast food, but blankets and backpacks had vanished. It looked as if the boys had packed up and left in a hurry.

Well, he supposed, if they had realized that there was a hunt for them and that they were in danger it made sense for them to leave, but if they had the diary then it was a loss for his and Lois's investigation.

He looked around the dingy little room. A hole in the disintegrating wall caught his attention. If the boys had wanted to hide anything -- like the stolen money -- a hole in the wall would be a likely place. He flashed his x-ray vision over the wall.

Something had indeed been hidden in the wall. Lying at the very bottom, he could see a crumpled fifty-dollar bill, a grimy piece of paper and three items that looked like some sort of brochures. Quickly, he crossed the room and retrieved them.

The torn and dirty piece of paper was a local bus schedule. One of the brochures was for the local subway, and two were for the two different cross-country bus lines that served Metropolis. It looked to him as if the boys had decided that safety for them lay away from the city, and he had to admit that they were probably right. Quickly, he scanned the rest of the room, then whisked out of the rickety shelter and took to the air.

Snow was still falling steadily but it might as well not exist from his standpoint. The nearest bus station was only a few blocks away and he made a beeline for it. He was probably too late, he thought, but it seemed unlikely that the boys would have departed for the bus station in broad daylight -- especially if they were at all worried about being spotted, either by CPS or worse, by the minions of The Boss, so maybe they were still around somewhere. If not, he wasn't certain what the next move would be, but maybe Lois would have some ideas.

There was no one waiting at any of the bus stops that he checked that in any way resembled Jack or Denny, although at each one he noted the presence of one or two figures that stood in nearby doorways, apparently for no other purpose than to watch the empty street. He might have thought them to be the homeless of Metropolis, except for the fact that their clothing was in far too good condition. Filing the fact away, he proceeded on to the local subway stations.

At two o'clock in the morning, the only persons present were a few individuals waiting for the night trains, a number of genuine homeless, sleeping in remote corners, and several persons of the same type as he had noted at the bus stops, who didn't appear to be actually waiting for trains, but did seem to be keeping a close eye on the entrances. A quick check of the nearest cross-country bus terminal produced the same results.

So, the public transportation in the vicinity of the boys' shelter was all being carefully watched. He added that to the empty hideout. Jack and Denny, he thought, must have realized their imminent danger and left their temporary home, probably just ahead of the hounds. It was quite possible that they were still somewhere around the area, hiding, afraid to approach their escape routes.

Which meant that he needed to find them, and quickly, but that was much easier said than done. At least, he could be fairly sure that they hadn't been picked up yet, but for how long that would continue was open to question. It looked as if Superman was in for a long night.

##########

##########

Lois had changed into her pajamas and a thick robe, and was sitting on the sofa watching the news when the phone rang. She pressed the "mute" button on the remote and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Lois," Clark's voice said, "you may as well go to bed. It looks like I'm going to be a while."

"What's going on?" she asked.

"It's too complicated to go into right now," he said. "I'll explain in the morning."

"Do you need any help?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, sounding rueful, "but I don't think anyone can give it to me. Jack and his brother are gone, and it looks like the Boss's people are hunting for them. I have to find them first."

"You're going to tell me about this Jack kid tomorrow, right?"

"That's a promise. Good night, honey."

"Good night." Lois took a deep breath. He might be Clark Kent to everyone else, but he would always be Charlie to her. "I love you, Charlie."

"I love you, too," he said. "I'll see you in the morning."

Lois hung up, wondering a little at herself. She had said those words to Claude and he'd taken advantage of her and then hurt and humiliated her beyond words. Superstitiously, she'd almost been afraid to say them to Clark for fear that it would jinx things, but once said, it was as if a burden had been lifted off of her shoulders. She didn't have to fear what would happen with him; her Charlie was the man who, after Claude, she had thought she would never meet, and yet he had come to her in the strangest of ways. The man of her dreams had literally dropped out of the sky. It figured, she thought, as she made her way into the bedroom. Her mother might irritate the heck out of her, but every now and then she was right. She'd always said that Lois had to do things the hard way; she couldn't follow the crowd.

Well, why should she follow the crowd, Lois asked herself with a touch of defiance. Such a thing was highly overrated, especially when the results turned out like this. As of tonight, their engagement was official, and as soon as they finished their investigation, she and Clark could announce it to the world. Oddly, now that it was done, she was almost as eager for it to be announced as he was. At the very least, it would stop Cat in her tracks. Or maybe not; but at least it would give Clark a solid basis for turning her down, and just thinking about the look on Ralph's face made her smile.

She went to the window of her bedroom and parted the curtains a little, looking out at the darkness where the snow was still falling gently and steadily. Her Charlie was out there somewhere, searching the city and watching over it and her. It gave her an amazing feeling of security.

"Be careful out there, Charlie," she whispered. She closed the curtains and dropped her robe across the foot of her bed. Her little battery-powered alarm clock said it was after two. She'd bought it deliberately after her experiences during the Nightfall crisis to be sure that she had an alarm that didn't depend on the building's power. With a jaw-cracking yawn, she crawled into bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin. Morning was going to come all too soon, she thought as she reached over to switch off the lamp. With any luck, Clark would find Jack and his brother. She hadn't been able to tell much from the photo but the boy didn't look very old. The thought of two kids out there in the open, hunted by the minions of the Boss, sent a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature outside the apartment. If the boy had stolen the diary, she could only hope that he was smart enough or lucky enough to escape the people hunting him until Clark could track him down. The boy's youth was unlikely to matter to someone who ran most of the crime in Metropolis. The Boss hadn't risen to the top of the criminal world by being soft.

If she started thinking too much about this, she wasn't going to get any sleep at all, she told herself, and she was exhausted. She had a date with Luthor tonight and would need to be at the top of her game. She closed her eyes and tried to relax. Fatigue pulled at her, and at last, she fell into an uneasy sleep, but her dreams were restless ones where she ran and hid from faceless hunters that seemed to know where she had gone no matter how cleverly she concealed herself. She was sweating and shaking when her alarm went off at six and she opened her eyes.

She glared at the clock, but its hands indeed pointed to 6:00. Grumbling and cross, she crawled out of bed. The bedroom was chilly. She pulled on her bathrobe and made her way to the window. A peek through the curtains told her that it was still snowing lightly. Well, today was already starting out on the wrong foot. She stumbled toward the shower, but when she snapped the wall switch, no light responded.

She flipped it several more times. Nothing.

Maybe, she thought hopefully, it was just the bulb. She went back into the bedroom and tried the switch.

Nothing. The power was out.

Wonderful. That meant that the water was going to be cold, too, and she was in no mood for a freezing shower. She'd put off a shower last night because she was tired, but there was no way she was going to go in to work this morning without showering!

Well, if the power had gone out recently, the water might still be warm. If it was, she could take a quick shower before the hot water ran out. Crossing her fingers, she went into the bathroom and turned on the water at the sink.

The water was still freezing two minutes later. She turned it off in disgust. Great; just great.

Well, it was possible that the outage was just a local one. Maybe the power was on at Clark's. He wouldn't mind if she went over there; she was sure of that.

She made her way to the phone and paused. If he had found the boys he'd probably be home, but maybe not. She picked up her purse and rummaged for the slip of paper where she had recorded his cellular phone number the night before.

The phone rang twice, and then Clark's voice answered. "Kent."

"Clark?" Lois said, "It's Lois. Any luck?"

"No." His voice sounded discouraged. "No sign of them."

"Terrific," Lois said. "Do you think they've been caught?

"I doubt it. The shifts at the bus stops changed an hour ago. They're still looking."

"Well, that's better than nothing," Lois said. "They must have found someplace to hide out. You'll find them eventually if you keep looking. I think we should let Henderson know as soon as possible."

"I'm going to, as soon as the morning shift comes on."

"Good idea. Um ..." Lois hesitated. "Can I ask a favor?"

"Sure."

"I was wondering if I could ... go over to your place for a shower."

A silence at the other end of the phone. "Sure," Clark said, sounding slightly surprised. "Um ... could I ask why?"

"The power is out here and the water's cold."

"Oh." A soft laugh. "I imagine a cold shower isn't exactly how you wanted to start your day. Go right ahead. I have to get ready for work, anyway. I'll meet you there."

##########

##########

Jack Brown stirred sleepily on the softest bed that he had slept on in weeks. The sofa was old but very comfortable and the heater that he could hear chugging away had kept Clark Kent's apartment warm and comfortable all night long. Jack had almost forgotten what it was like to be warm all over. Even the tip of his nose was warm.

Behind the partition, he could hear Denny snoring slightly. His brother had had a slight cold for the last couple of days, and the temperature in their old home had been barely above freezing, but he sounded less stuffy this morning, so maybe the warm apartment was helping. Denny had taken the bed last night but Jack had insisted on sleeping in the living room so he would know when Kent came home.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. Six-fifteen, and Kent wasn't here yet. He must have been working last night, Jack thought. It figured. When he didn't want the guy around, he was Johnny-on-the-spot, but when he and Denny wanted to see him, he was nowhere to be found.

Well, he thought, this wasn't a bad place to hang out. At least it was warm and there was stuff to eat, although he had been kind of surprised at a guy as old as Kent having that much junk food in his kitchen.

His stomach grumbled on cue. Jack sat up, pushing back the blanket that he had pulled out of the closet and surveyed himself. He didn't look too bad and he sure smelled a whole lot better than before. Last night, he and Denny had taken turns standing guard while the other showered. He'd even washed his hair, and insisted that Denny wash his. Neither of them had had a bath in a week, except for a couple of times when they had visited a gas station and washed off the worst of the dirt with paper towels in the restroom, which was pretty unsatisfactory, to say the least.

He crawled out from under the covers and headed for the bathroom. The clothing he had hung over Kent's shower stall last night was just about dry. He pulled it on, sniffing it experimentally. It smelled a lot better, too.

It had been long enough that he actually enjoyed brushing his teeth. Kent had a spare toothbrush that was still in its package, and Jack had no hesitation in borrowing it for his own use. Kent obviously had plenty of money and could certainly afford to buy a new toothbrush if he wanted one.

In the kitchenette a few minutes later, he rummaged through the cupboard, looking for something suitable for breakfast. He didn't really want Twinkies or Ho-Hos, and potato chips didn't quite seem like something he'd like the first thing in the morning. He'd had enough junk food over the past few weeks to last him a while.

There was, however, a homemade apple pie in the refrigerator, and some eggs and bread. A short time later, he was having apple pie and eggs on buttered toast -- real butter, if he was any judge -- and chocolate milk. He hadn't had food like this since before his mother had disappeared. Mom had done a lot of drinking, but she'd been a pretty decent cook.

With a jerk, he shook off the unaccustomed mood. The last thing he needed now was to start getting sentimental about the past. Mom had cared more about her crummy boyfriend than she had about her own kids. Well, he and Denny didn't need her. They weren't doing too bad by themselves, if they could just stay ahead of the CPS and the Boss. Where the devil was Kent, anyway?

And at that moment, he heard the apartment door open.

##########

##########

Lois pulled the Jeep up in front of Clark's apartment, turned off the engine and set the parking brake. Snow was still falling, a little more heavily than it had been when she had left her own place. The tiny, glittering flakes sifted down without fuss, collecting in little ripples on the sidewalk, covering the muddy, trampled mess that countless pedestrians had made in the previous layer of older snow.

It was still early. She glanced at her watch, noting that it was just after six-thirty. The sun was up but just barely and the sky to the east was a mass of snow clouds colored with an oddly ruddy glow of the rising sun behind them. She picked up the bag containing her office wear and pushed open the door of the Jeep. There was no sign of Clark, and she was going to be late if she didn't hurry.

A man's voice spoke suddenly behind her. "That was fast."

She jumped. "Clark, don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry." He didn't sound sorry. "Come on inside. I'm pretty sure this section of town still has power. A truck skidded out of control a few hours ago and hit a power pole a couple of blocks from your place. That's why the power was out."

"Well, if it is, you can just heat up the water for me," she said, shutting the door of the Jeep and handing him the bag. "And, do you have any food? I'm starving. I forgot to go shopping yesterday."

"No prob ..." He broke off and she glanced back at him to see him lifting his glasses to stare in the direction of his apartment.

"What?" she asked.

"I seem to have a couple of visitors," he said, softly. "Denny is sleeping in my bed and Jack is having breakfast in the kitchen."

"Who?"

"Jack. The boy in the picture. Denny is his younger brother."

"They were here all along?"

"Looks like it," he said. "I gave Jack my card and told him to call if he needed help. I guess he decided to take me up on it." He pushed his glasses into place. "Come on."

Lois caught his elbow. "Wait a minute. You said you caught him breaking into your apartment a few days ago. What happened?"

"Oh, that." Clark looked uncomfortable. "I came home a couple of days ago and surprised Jack ransacking my apartment."

"I guess he ran and you caught him ... and decided to let him go instead of turning him in?"

"Yeah." Clark lowered his glasses and glanced back in the direction of his apartment. "Jack and Denny are on their own. They were living in an old abandoned building a few blocks from here. Jack was basically using petty theft to support the pair of them."

She chuckled. "You're a major softie, you know that?"

He shrugged, and she thought his cheeks were a little pinker than usual. "Yeah, I know. But Lois, if I were to turn them in to Child Protective Services, and they actually have that diary, do you think they'd be safe from Luthor? I think that, for their own safety, we should probably get them out of Metropolis at least for a while. Do you think I'm wrong?"

"No; I agree," Lois said. "But you didn't know about any of this at the time."

"I didn't want to split them up," he said, a little defensively. "According to Jack, their parents abandoned them. I didn't want to make it worse. And now, with everything that's happened since ..."

Lois shook her head, but decided not to pursue the subject. "Come on. If they're in your place, they must be waiting for you."

##########

##########

The door of the apartment opened and Jack waited out of sight in the kitchen. He was trapped, he knew, and even if he was able to get away he couldn't leave Denny. Besides, it was probably just Kent coming home. The guy had said he wanted to help them; Jack hoped that he had really meant it.

The door closed and he heard the lock turn, then footsteps across the room. His heart sank. There was someone else besides Kent; he hadn't counted on that. If it really was Kent out there, who else would be with him? A girlfriend, or maybe a cop?

One set of footsteps crossed the rug toward the kitchenette. Jack tensed.

The footsteps stopped and the voice Jack remembered spoke suddenly. "I know you're there, Jack. Why don't you come out?"

It was Kent, all right. Faced with no other choice, Jack stepped into the doorway. Kent was standing a few feet away, and a woman was sitting in one of the armchairs. Neither of them looked surprised and Jack wondered if he had somehow left signs of his and Denny's entry.

Kent smiled. "I guess you've been here for a while, huh?"

"What makes you think I have?"

"If that's your brother sleeping in my bed, I figure you got here sometime last night. What happened?"

"You said you'd help us if we needed it."

"And I meant it," Kent said. "I've heard some stuff on the street. Some pretty dangerous people are looking for you."

Kent was smarter than he'd thought. "Yeah."

"Okay," Kent said. "Why don't you bring your food in here and sit down. We'll talk and see what I can do." He gestured to the woman. "This is my work partner, Ms. Lane."

##########

##########

When Jack had finished speaking, Clark Kent regarded him silently long enough for Jack to begin to squirm uneasily. He told himself that Kent couldn't possibly know the real story. The guy obviously felt sorry for Denny and him, so maybe they could convince him to help the two of them get out of town.

Kent smiled suddenly. "That's a pretty good story as far as it goes, but it isn't the whole one, is it?"

"I ... "

"Jack," Ms. Lane said, "you'd be a lot better off if you'd tell us everything -- not just the part that's supposed to make us feel sorry for you." She regarded him steadily and he shifted uneasily in his seat. "You two are in a lot of danger from some pretty nasty people. We know that you were the one who robbed Joey McPherson's safe of his protection receipts; that's why the Boss's goons are after you. Personally, I don't care about the money and I doubt the Boss really does. Somebody in his position regards the amount you stole from Joey as chump change."

Jack had to work hard to control his expression. Lane was looking at him in a way that told him that he'd badly underestimated her. He hadn't fooled her for an instant.

Her gaze flicked to Kent, and then back to Jack. "However," she continued, evenly, "being the kind of person he is, he isn't going to just forgive and forget. That's not the way he does business. Besides, when you robbed Joey's safe, something else went with the money; something much more important than a few thousand dollars. There was a diary that could put the Boss in prison for several lifetimes if it gets into the right hands. He obviously thinks you have it ... and you know what? So do I. I'll offer you a deal right now. If you give us that diary, Clark and I will see to it that you get out of Metropolis safely -- to a place that the Boss will have a lot of trouble finding you."

Kent nodded. "I realize that under the law, Lois and I should report you to CPS, but we're not going to. The Boss has a long reach. Even if they believed us, you wouldn't be safe in the foster care system and you know it as well as I do. Until we can straighten this whole thing out, you'll be a lot safer completely out of the state of New Troy."

Jack was silent for some time, but his brain was working hard. This was exactly what he and Denny wanted, but he wasn't anxious to admit anything about the diary. Finally, he said, "What if I said I don't know what you're talking about?"

"Then the Boss will stay free to continue hunting you," Clark said. "We all know that he'll never give up. Eventually he'll track you down no matter how well you hide, and he'll have you killed. Both of you. He can't do anything else even if he wanted to -- which I doubt -- and still keep his authority over his followers. The only real hold people like him have over anyone is fear; he can't afford to let them think he might be going soft, and his tentacles reach a long way out of Metropolis. On the other hand, you could give us the diary. I have a friend who can get you out of the city and leave no traces at all of where you went. Then Lois and I can see to it that the diary gets to someone who can use it to bring him down ... permanently. What do you think?"

Jack scowled. Letting go of his insurance went against the grain, but that diary was a hotter potato than he had ever handled. It could get him killed as easily as it could save his neck - and Denny, as well. Much as he hated to admit it, Kent was right. "Who is this friend?" he asked, "and how do I know I can trust him?"

Kent smiled slightly. "Let's say that he can fly you out without leaving a trace. I also think I know a place where you can stay, at least for a while -- as long as you don't do anything to draw attention to yourselves. Do you think you can do that -- lay low and stay out of trouble?"

Jack regarded the two reporters for nearly a minute without saying anything. The deal was tempting, but he'd learned the hard way not to trust easily. "I'll tell you what," he said, finally. "You get your pilot friend to take us somewhere safe and I'll tell you where it is."

Lane and Kent looked at each other. He saw Lane give a tiny nod. Kent turned back to him. "It's a deal. Now, I need to go out for a while to make some arrangements. Lois can stay here with you while I'm gone."

Jack regarded him suspiciously. "Why can't you just phone?"

Kent shook his head. "I want to do this in person. We can't afford to get careless. Phones can be tapped and I don't want anyone who shouldn't to overhear anything I say. I won't be gone long."

He had a point. Jack nodded grudgingly. "Okay. I guess you're right."

##########

##########

It was a little more than half an hour later. Denny had awakened and was eating scrambled eggs and toast at Kent's coffee table when Jack heard the sound of the bedroom window opening and started up from the couch in alarm. Lane turned without the slightest sign of surprise. "Don't worry. It's just your ride."

Jack was about to ask what she was talking about when Superman stepped into the living room. Jack stared. He had heard about this guy; even he and Denny hadn't been able to completely miss the stir he had made when he appeared a few days ago. He gaped at the colorful figure, not quite able to believe his eyes. The red, yellow and blue of the costume seemed to glow in the apartment's lighting, and Jack could see the man's muscle ripple under the skin-tight outfit as he strode casually forward.

Superman turned to Lane. "Clark says your friends need a lift," he said, mildly.

The reporter nodded. "They need to get out of town without anyone knowing about them," she said.

"I know. Clark told me." He turned to meet Jack's eyes. "Jack, isn't it? And your brother, Denny. Clark has arranged for you to stay with his parents on their farm in Kansas. That should be just about as safe as you can get -- as long as you don't draw attention to yourselves. Why don't you get your things and we'll go."

Jack nodded, unable, for once, to think of anything to say. Without a word, he went to retrieve his backpack from the corner of the bedroom, where he had left it. A quick glance over his shoulder told him that no one had followed him, and he was unobserved. Smoothly and quickly, he opened Denny's pack, found the diary where he had put it for safekeeping while his clothes were drying, and transferred it to his own. He wasn't about to leave this thing out of his control until Lane and Kent had completed the deal.

"Are we going to fly?" his brother asked Superman, as Jack returned to the living room.

"That's right." Superman glanced at Denny. "I'll take Jack first and come back for you, so why don't you finish your breakfast while you're waiting. This won't take long." He turned to Jack. "Are you afraid of heights?"

Jack shook his head.

"Good. We're going to take off from the bedroom window. I'm going to take you up fast so nobody will have a chance to see us. We'll be flying just below the cloud level; no one will be able to see you from the ground. I doubt that the Boss's goons are going to be looking up, anyway."

That made sense. Jack gulped, trying not to let the strange, super-powered man see that he was nervous. Superman reached out to pick up his ragged jacket from a chair back. "Better put this on. It's going to be a bit chilly. As a matter of fact, I'm sure Clark won't mind if I borrow one of his blankets for the trip."

"I'll get it," Lane said. She stepped around the wall into the bedroom and returned an instant later with the quilt that had been on the bed. She presented it to Jack. "Will this do?"

"It'll be fine," Superman said. "Wrap yourself up in it. I'll be back here in ten minutes for Denny."

Jack wrapped the quilt tightly around his body and consciously didn't swallow nervously as Superman swept him up. He felt a rush of cold wind on his face and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and when he opened them, he was looking down at the city of Metropolis spread out below him. The cars looked like toys and the people ants. He did gulp then and turned his gaze up to look at the layer of snow clouds, close overhead. Tiny spots of cold brushed his face and he realized that flakes were still falling. The breeze was icy on his skin, telling him that the idea of taking the quilt had been a very good one. Gathering his courage, he looked down again, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the city so far below him. He had been in a plane once, some six years ago, but it hadn't been anything like this. Then, he had been enclosed on all sides by the plane; here there was nothing around him but air.

The city was moving swiftly to the rear and they approached the low range of mountains to the west of Metropolis proper. He could see roads twisting through the hills and valleys like narrow ribbons, and the various smaller rivers that fed into the Hobs River were visible, tracing their way down from the higher land toward the sea. As he watched, Superman's speed increased until the scenery was passing in a near blur. Within minutes, they were over featureless, snow-covered expanses, gleaming palely in the light of pre-dawn, and they were slowing down. To his left he could see the lights of a town in the distance; they were dropping swiftly toward a farmhouse, standing alone among snowy fields and then they were down and Superman was lowering him to a walk lightly dusted with snow, in front of an old-fashioned, covered porch. Jack became quickly aware of the difference in the temperature as his companion removed the quilt, and he shivered. Here, the air had a dry quality, and there was a distinct bite to the icy atmosphere.

Jack found himself unexpectedly nervous. Superman glanced down at him. "They're expecting us. Don't worry."

"I'm not!" he asserted.

Superman didn't answer. Instead, he strode up the walk and stepped onto the porch. Briefly, he knocked on the doorframe.

The door opened and a woman old enough to be Jack's grandmother looked out. "Hello, Superman. Clark said you'd be coming. Is this Jack?"

"Yes, it is," Superman said. "Jack, this is Mrs. Kent, Clark's mother. She's agreed to let you and Denny stay here for a while, until the danger is over. I'll be back with Denny in a few minutes." The hero took off in a rush of cold air and Mrs. Kent smiled at Jack.

"Why don't you come in, Jack?" she said. "I'm getting breakfast right now. I imagine you wouldn't turn down a cup of hot chocolate?"

"Um ... yeah. That'd be good." Jack climbed the steps to the porch and stepped inside.

He had never been in a place like this, he thought, sitting at the kitchen table and looking around at the room a few minutes later. His mother had been a pretty decent cook, but her kitchen had been a haphazard affair. This place was homey but organized, neat as a pin but obviously no showplace. A kettle was steaming gently on the stove, a coffeepot perked in the background, and the room smelled of bacon and eggs. The warm scent of waffles filled the air, and there were three kinds of syrup sitting in the table next to a big dish of butter and a jar of strawberry jam. Martha Kent set a large mug of cocoa into her microwave and turned it on at half power.

"It will be ready in a minute," she said. "Have you eaten this morning?"

"Yeah. I had some toast and eggs, and apple pie in Mr. Kent's apartment."

"Well ..." Mrs. Kent looked dubious. "I guess that's not too bad. When Clark called he told us that your parents had abandoned you and you were hiding from a gang lord in Metropolis?"

"Uh huh." Jack fought the urge to squirm. "Denny and me, our mom and her boyfriend ran out on us. CPS kept separating us, so we were trying to make it on our own."

"You're a little young to be dealing with big time crime," Martha Kent said. "What happened?"

Oddly enough, Jack found himself wanting to explain the circumstances. It didn't really matter, he told himself. Why should it make a difference what a stranger thought of him? Besides, Kent and Lane had figured out most of it, and he was going to give them the diary anyway as soon as Denny got here. He'd promised and a deal was a deal. "Um ..." He shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. "I was tryin' to get enough money together so me and Denny could get out of Metropolis." Once the floodgates were open, the whole story came tumbling out. When he finished he found that he was staring at the checked tablecloth in front of him, waiting for the verdict.

"That's quite a story," a male voice said. He looked up in surprise to see an older man standing in the doorway, regarding him with a half-smile. "Clark told us you'd had a kind of tough time of it, but I think it was a bit harder than even my son realized. I'm Jonathan Kent, Clark's father. Pleased to meet you."

Mrs. Kent set the mug of cocoa on the table in front of him. "Here you go," she said. She turned her head. "I think I just heard Superman land. Your brother will be here in a minute. We've decided that you and he are Clark's younger cousins, here for a long visit while your parents are touring Europe."

Jack nodded. In the other room, he heard the door open and a moment later Superman walked into the kitchen, trailed by Denny. His brother hesitated in the doorway while Superman performed introductions, and then the superhero turned to him.

"Well," he said, "I've fulfilled my part of the deal. I believe you have something for Clark?"

"Yeah." Jack slid out of the chair and knelt by his backpack. He rummaged for a moment and his hand encountered the small book that might bring down the most powerful crime lord in Metropolis. He wiggled it free of the other contents of the pack and handed it to Superman with an odd feeling of relief. "Here. I hope I never see it again."

Superman didn't seem at all surprised, and Jack had the odd impression that he had known where the diary was all the time. He examined it intently, opened it and flipped swiftly through the pages. His eyebrows rose almost as high as they could go. He closed the book with a snap. "Thank you, Jack," he said quietly. "Remember what Clark and Lois told you. Don't draw attention to yourself and you'll be all right." He turned to look at the Kents. "We'll let you know what happens," he said. "It was nice to see you again."

"It was nice to see you too, Superman," Jonathan Kent said. "Say hello to Clark and Lois for us."

"I'll do that. Goodbye." Superman retrieved the quilt in which Denny had been wrapped and strode out of the room. Jack heard the whoosh as he took off.

Martha Kent was seating Denny at the table. "I'll get you some hot cocoa in a minute. Now, as your aunt and uncle, at least for the time being," she continued, "we need to get the two of you settled. We'll put you in Clark's room and you can put your things away. There isn't much farm work to do around here in the winter, but we do need to take care of the animals. The first thing, though, is to get the pair of you some clothes that will keep you from standing out ..."

##########

##########

"So, I left them eating breakfast with Mom and Dad," Clark said. He poured coffee for Lois and another for himself.

"I hope they don't cause too much trouble for your parents," Lois said.

"I got the feeling that Dad sized Jack up pretty quick," Clark said, with a slight grin. "Mom, too. They'll keep those kids so busy they won't have time to get into mischief. Besides, I think Jack is too relieved that he and Denny are safe for the moment to make trouble." He transferred bacon and eggs to Lois's plate and his own and followed it with a bowl of chopped fruit. "Here you go. While you were showering, I took the diary to the Planet and scanned the whole thing. Then, Superman called Henderson."

"What did he say when he saw what Superman had for him?" Lois asked.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone literally speechless before," Clark said. He smiled reminiscently. "I told him that Lane and Kent had found the thief and that the deal was to get him out of town in exchange for the diary. He seemed to think it was a good trade. I guess now we're going to have to be sure not to alert you-know-who until Henderson's been able to verify some of the stuff in that diary."

"I guess," Lois said, "that means I have to keep my dinner-and-opera date tonight. And we can try our plan with the phones to see if we can verify that number."

Clark took a sip of coffee and nodded. "We just need to keep on being careful for a little while longer," he said. "If Henderson's half the cop I think he is, the Boss will soon be spending his days behind bars on Stryker's Island."

##########

##########

"Nice of you two to show up today," Perry said as they walked into the Planet newsroom. The hands on the wall clock pointed accusingly to eleven twenty-five.

Lois shrugged. "We were on a late night stakeout," she said, unapologetically. "There's been a bunch of developments on that corporate corruption story we're working on. And no, nothing can be printed yet. We did send in a piece for you last night that will probably do as filler. There was an arson in Suicide Slum around midnight."

"Anything on Superman?" Perry asked, sounding hopeful.

"Not since he saved that busload of kids, yesterday," Lois said. She lowered her voice. "That's tied in with this too, Perry. This thing's explosive, but we can't talk about it, at least for a while longer."

"Just make sure nobody else gets the jump on us until you can talk about it," Perry said.

"Not if we can help it," Lois said. "I also have a dinner date with Lex Luthor tonight, so I can't stay late. He's taking me to the opera."

"Oh," Perry said, without a trace of reaction. "Well, be sure you get an in-depth interview."

"I'll do my best," Lois said. "He isn't the most forthcoming, even when he's agreed to an interview." She glanced over her shoulder at Ralph, who was making his way across the newsroom toward them.

The man smirked at her. "Back to Luthor again, eh Lane? You sure get around."

Perhaps it was the short night, but something snapped. "What the devil is that supposed to mean, Finkelstein?"

"Oh ... nothing." Ralph smirked again and elbowed Clark. "This girl flies high. I guess you were never in the running."

"Ralph." Perry's voice stopped him in his tracks. "That's enough. You've been warned before about inappropriate remarks. One more and I'm going to have to bring disciplinary action. This is your last warning."

"Sorry." Ralph seemed to shrink. "I didn't mean anything."

"I'll see you in my office in five minutes." Perry looked up at the ceiling as if searching for Divine inspiration, or maybe just looking for help, Lois thought. "You and I need to have a serious discussion about several issues." He turned back to Lois and Clark. "Now, since you can't give me any more on that other thing yet, there's a press conference over at Monumental Studios in about thirty minutes."

"What kind of press conference?" Lois asked, suspiciously.

"Geraldine Garcia and her costar Robert Vincent are announcing some big joint production venture. Every paper in town will be there and since Cat's out with the flu today, I need someone to cover it. You two drew the short straw. Get goin'."

##########

##########

"Give me a break," Lois was muttering some ten minutes later as she started up the Jeep. "This pair stars in masterpieces like 'My Brother, the Alien Clone'. We're supposed to take them seriously?"

"Lois, every actor starts small," Clark said.

"That isn't small, it's microscopic," Lois said. "Besides, they're always in the tabloids. Gerry has a drinking problem; Gerry is on a new miracle diet and has lost forty pounds in two months -- not that she could afford to since she's skinny as a rail now; Gerry is having a baby -- she'd have to have a dozen kids by this time if all the rumors were right, I'd think -- or she's seeing another man ... or her husband is seeing one; or maybe Robert's fiancee has jilted him for someone else, or is having drug problems ... you name it, it's happened to them -- at least in the National Whisper."

Clark laughed. "I wonder if the lives of celebrities are really all that wild," he said, "or if most of this weird stuff is actually made up to make it look like they're living this fantastic lifestyle, just so they'll sound interesting? If we knew what they really did with their free time, we'd probably find out they're just as uninteresting as the ordinary man on the street."

Lois didn't answer for several minutes as she maneuvered her way through the lunch hour traffic toward the Bayshore Parkway. After they were moving along with the flow of traffic, she resumed the conversation as if it had never been interrupted.

"I don't know about uninteresting. If you had thirty million dollars to play with, wouldn't you do some of the things that most of us only dream about?"

"I think," Clark said, "that it might get to be boring after a little while. On the other hand, I like living an ordinary life. Being in the public eye all the time would get old pretty fast."

Lois considered that. It was probably the most accurate statement of his view on living life that she had ever heard. "You probably have a point," she conceded. "Just think what it would be like if every time you set foot out in public there was a crowd of media waiting for you."

"Stalkers, fans, curiosity seekers," Clark added. "People interested in every part of your life, even the most private aspects. I couldn't handle it."

"Reporters for the tabloids sifting through your garbage," Lois added. "Not to mention the people trying to rip off your clothes for souvenirs. You're absolutely right. Some people might live for that, but I couldn't. I'll stick to being a journalist."

"Amen," Clark agreed. "Fame just for the sake of fame isn't worth the hassle." Lois saw that he was smiling a little and laughed to herself. Anyone listening in on them via the bug planted in the Jeep ought to be convinced by now that they had no clue about Lex Luthor's real nature. She hoped they could think of a good way to get rid of it soon. Having to watch everything she said while she was driving was definitely annoying. They let the silence lengthen as she negotiated the parkway traffic. The Cinema Boulevard exit was coming up and she cut in front of a teenage driver who speeded up at the last minute when he apparently saw her signal to change lanes.

"Moron," she commented. "I guess he loses points if anyone manages to get in ahead of him."

"People with Type A personalities are that way," Clark said. "They're just naturally competitive."

"Yeah, well, that one was stupid. I'm bigger than he is."

Clark smiled without saying anything. She took the exit to Cinema Boulevard and turned right toward the Monumental Studios lot.

"So," Clark said, "Lex Luthor is taking you to the opera tonight?"

"That's right," she said. "I'm looking forward to it. He's a very charming man."

"Just don't get too stuck on Lifestyles of the Incredibly Rich and Powerful," Clark said.

"Don't be silly," she said. "Why would he be interested in me? I'm just a journalist."

"Albeit one of the best in the business," Clark said. "Besides, he wouldn't have asked you out if he didn't like what he saw."

"To him I'm simply one more reasonably pretty face in the crowd," Lois said. "A man like him has his pick of hundreds of beautiful women any time he wants. I'm just going to enjoy the evening and the company. Are you jealous?"

"Just envious," Clark said, "but then, so are most of the men in the newsroom -- especially Ralph."

"Ralph's an idiot," Lois said unequivocally. "If that brain cell of his ever wakes up, it's going to die of loneliness in there all by itself. You shouldn't listen to the rumors he starts. I don't think even he does."

"I doubt he remembers half of what he says," Clark said, "but he's going to get himself fired if he doesn't watch out. He was hitting on Patty over in the secretarial pool this morning, and I don't think she appreciated it."

"Small loss," Lois said. "His writing belongs more in the Whisper than in the Planet anyway."

"I think he's trying to branch out," Clark said. "He's been trying to snoop on your Superman information."

"Well, he won't find much even if he does," she said. "I still have to nail down that interview that Superman promised me."

"I hope he hasn't forgotten," Clark said.

"I don't intend to let him forget," Lois said. "The next time I see him, I'm going to remind him." She braked and blew her horn at a delivery truck that turned left in front of her. "Idiot! He just turned left against a red light!"

"The guy must have driven a cab in a previous life," Clark said.

"A cab in Metropolis!" Lois clarified. "Well, at least we're nearly there."

"I can hardly wait."

Lois didn't answer immediately as she pulled up to the guard's shack and displayed her press credentials. The studio guard checked them and then waved them through. She followed the signs toward the lot designated for visitors.

They were silent while she found a parking space on the second tier and cut the engine. When they had locked the doors behind them and were walking toward the security checkpoint, Lois breathed a sigh of relief. "How much longer do we have to put up with that bug, anyway?"

"I think it's served its purpose," Clark said. "It's time to get rid of it. I have an idea ..."

"It doesn't involve wrecking my Jeep, does it?" she asked a little suspiciously, considering the smug expression on his face.

"Lois! Would I do that? Besides, if you did, we might wind up with another subcompact," Clark said. "Now, here's what I think we should do ..."

##########

##########

"I can't believe it," Lois was saying as they got back into the Jeep. "All that hoopla for another grade Z horror flick? 'My Cousin, the Zombie Hunter'? Oh, please!"

"Publicity, Lois," Clark said. "If you're in show business you live and die by publicity."

"I think this one is going to die before it's lived," Lois said. "Give me a break! Perry is wasting our time with this drivel? That fire last night was more exciting and I can't believe we spent two hours out there in the snow reporting on a dinky little fire in Suicide Slum. Ralph could have done it with his eyes closed."

"Well, the fire chief said it was arson. Superman put it out before it spread, but it could have been pretty bad."

"Believe me, most of the stuff in Suicide Slum could burn down and nobody would miss it," Lois said. "I suppose we'd better call and see if there's any more information on it, just as a follow-up. Ten to one, some drug dealer was trying to get rid of one of his rivals or something."

"Could be. It could have killed a lot of people, though. I'll call while you're writing up your notes, and see if they have any suspects," Clark said. "Want to get some lunch before we go back?"

"Sounds good," Lois said. "How about the Fudge Castle?"

"I said lunch, not dessert," Clark said.

"They have salad and sandwiches," Lois said. "And soup."

"And every kind of chocolate known to man," Clark added.

"So? I love chocolate. You're buying," she added.

"Okay, okay. Just have some mercy on my wallet," he said.

They exited the lot and Lois joined the line of cars leaving the studio grounds.

As they pulled into the lot beside the Fudge Castle twenty minutes later, Clark nodded to her.

"Clark," Lois said immediately, "look at the dashboard."

"What?" he said.

"The indicator lights are all blinking. What do you suppose is going on?"

"That's weird," Clark said, looking at the perfectly normal readouts of the Jeep's instruments. "Maybe you've got a short or something."

"If they've screwed up my electrical system, I'm going to kill my mechanic," Lois said. "I just got this thing back!"

"I just hope something doesn't catch fire," Clark said. "That happened to my dad's car once. You'd better have it checked out as soon as you can."

"Yeah. I'll call the garage while we're waiting for our lunch," Lois said. "Don't forget to lock your door." As she spoke, she cut the engine and pulled the lever that released the hood.

Clark was out of the Jeep instantly and opening the hood. He had already located the spot where the wire from the little microphone connected to the electrical system, and with a needle-thin burst of heat vision, he severed it. "Done."

"Let's hope that was convincing," Lois said, stepping out of the Jeep. She shut the door decisively and locked it.

"I'll take the whole thing out later," he said, "as soon as I can do it without an audience." He slammed the hood. "Let's go get some lunch. How do you feel about a hot fudge sundae? Like you said, I'm buying."

"Charlie, I just said that for effect."

He put an arm around her waist and hugged her briefly. "I know. But I want to buy the woman I love her favorite dessert to celebrate my engagement to her. Come on."

Unable to find a flaw with this impeccable reasoning, Lois allowed him to escort her into the Fudge Castle.

##########

##########

Lois was writing up her notes some two hours later, when her phone rang. She answered it automatically, shoving the receiver into the space between her shoulder and her ear. "Lois Lane."

"Hello, Lois." Lex Luthor's voice was warm and velvety, even over the phone. "I wanted to call to confirm our plans for this evening."

Caught by surprise, Lois stuttered, trying to regain her poise. "Lex ... Mr. Luthor ... I didn't expect ...".

"Lex," Luthor's voice said. "Naturally I wouldn't leave something so personal to someone else." There was a smile in his voice. "I'll have a car at your door at six. I've arranged for a private dinner in the penthouse, followed by the performance of Siegfried at the Metropolitan Opera House. I trust that will be acceptable?"

Lois breathed deeply. The billionaire probably thought her confusion stemmed from his celebrity status and personal charm. The actual reasons were somewhat different, but if it catered to his vanity, it was just as well. "That would be wonderful!"

"Very good. Until this evening, then."

After he had hung up, Lois put the receiver down slowly. If she hadn't known the kind of man Lex Luthor actually was, she might actually be looking forward to this evening. After all, it would be a feather in any woman's cap that such a handsome, brilliant and successful man obviously found her to his taste. Probably part of the attraction was the challenge, she thought. She was an independent career woman with a pretty formidable resume attached to her name. Someone like Lex Luthor would probably find it an amusing contest to try to win the affection of the self-reliant Ms. Lane. She'd known manipulative and controlling men before, and in her estimation he was both. Fencing with him was going to be her own personal challenge for as long as it took to put him behind bars where he belonged.

Clark wasn't in the newsroom at the moment. He had given her a flying signal with one hand and departed hastily some twenty minutes before. She wondered what he was doing, but was confident that he would have a story to write about when he got back. Superman was undoubtedly in action somewhere in the city.

The phone on her desk rang again and she picked up the receiver. At this rate, she wasn't going to get much work done. "Lois Lane."

"Hi, sis, it's me," Lucy's voice said, brightly. "You'll never guess where I am!"

"At my apartment?" Lois guessed. From the tone of her voice, it seemed that her sister wasn't suffering any ill effects from the party the night before, anyhow.

Lucy giggled. "Nope! Brian and I are on his brother's jet, headed for Italy! His brother is Albert Chow; no kidding! They've invited me to spend Christmas with them in Venice before we start at New Troy State in January! This is so cool! I didn't even realize who he was until last night, would you believe it?"

"Neither did I," Lois said, before she thought. "What about your passport, though?"

"I don't know, but I think Mr. Chow pulled some strings, and they rushed it through, because I've got one here. I guess I'll see you in a couple of weeks, okay?"

"All right," Lois said. "Have a good time."

"I will. Brian says he's going to show me every night spot in the city!"

Lois could believe it. "Take a lot of pictures for me, all right?"

"I will. 'Bye!" The phone went dead and Lois slowly hung it up. Venice? Clark's warning to Albert Chow had apparently produced fast results. Well, at least Lex Luthor would have difficulty getting at Brian and Lucy if they were with the Chow entourage in Italy. She suspected that her sister and Chow's brother would be under constant surveillance for their entire Christmas holiday -- which was probably not a bad thing. Maybe it would keep them out of trouble.

And, it left her free to concentrate on the Luthor situation without worrying about her sister and whatever difficulties she could be getting into.

"Turn on the monitors!" Perry's bellow startled her out of her abstraction.

Jimmy rushed to obey and the monitors came on with a burst of sound. An announcer was speaking, and Lois stared at the picture on the screens, only half-hearing the man's excited monologue.

"... Explosion which triggered the subway tunnel's collapse. Superman has burrowed through the debris to reach the trapped passengers ..."

"Somebody get down there!" Perry roared. "Lois! Where's Kent?"

"He's meeting a source!" Lois replied automatically. Explosion? she repeated to herself as she grabbed up her purse and headed for the elevator. Could it be another test of Superman, after Clark had told Luthor that he knew? It was possible, she reminded herself. Lex Luthor hadn't gotten where he was by timidity. If it was, then their opponent wasn't giving up. She and Clark were going to have to do something about this, if Henderson didn't come up with some results pretty quickly. Well, tonight they would have a chance to verify the phone number that both Antoinette Baines and Barbara Trevino had called, and maybe she and Clark could do a little more snooping into some of the references in that diary. One way or another, they were going to have to make sure that someone stopped Lex Luthor for good.

##########

##########

"There wasn't any sign of videocameras this time," Clark said. "I think it was a genuine accident, but that doesn't mean he won't try again."

"Or he could have already learned what he thinks he needs to know," Lois said. She glanced at the elevator's level indicator. This thing was moving with its usual speed, or lack thereof. The Planet really needed to upgrade its elevators, she reflected with a touch of impatience. "Let's hope he thinks he knows a lot more about you than he really does," she continued. "So, do I get another exclusive Superman interview anytime soon?"

Clark grinned. "We've been promising Perry something for a while. Give him the quotes I gave you on the subway thing and tomorrow we can do another one -- not that we have a lot more information to put in the interview."

"We'll wing it," Lois said. "Just the name of your home planet will pack a wallop -- Superman tells the public he isn't from here, you know."

Clark grimaced at the thought. "Admitting Superman's a little green man? After Bureau 39? It will probably bring out every UFO nut and conspiracy theorist in the city ... or the country."

"Well," Lois pointed out, "Trask is locked up in a mental ward. There are probably other nuts out there, but not too many with his level of firepower. We'll just re-emphasize the fact that you're here to help. Besides, you're neither little nor green."

"Luthor assumed Superman was an alien," Clark said. "I guess most people probably do. Still, it's another thing to confirm it." He shrugged. "Oh well, as long as no one finds out all the things about him ..."

"They won't," Lois said. She squeezed his arm lightly. "There's no way I want the media interfering with our lives that way. There are limits."

He gave her a crooked smile. "You're not going to get any argument from me." She felt his hand slip around hers for an instant. "I've waited my whole life for you. I want our life together to be private."

The expression in his eyes made her cheeks burn. It was an incredible thing to mean so much to a man, especially this man. She started to speak but the elevator groaned to a stop and he released her hand as the doors slid open.

A glance at the clock told her that she had less than fifteen minutes before deadline. She headed for her desk at a half-trot and dropped into her chair, kicking her bag under the desk with a careless foot. "I have to hurry. I need to be ready by six. Luthor is sending a car for me."

Clark nodded. "Be careful," he said, softly. "I still don't trust him."

She patted his hand. "Neither do I."

She finished the short article just under the deadline and LANned it to Perry. Ralph was watching them and as she shut down her computer he strolled with elaborate casualness up to her desk. "Um ... Lane."

She glanced up. "Yes, Ralph?"

"Just wanted to apologize if I've said anything to offend you," he said, almost offhandedly. "I didn't mean anything by it. I was just joking."

She glanced sharply at him. "Apology accepted," she said. "Just don't let it happen again."

"It won't," Ralph assured her. "Uh ... how's the Superman story coming? Did you get a chance to interview him?" He glanced at the folder in her hand labeled "Superman" and then back at her face.

Over Ralph's shoulder, she saw Clark's eyebrows fly up. "As a matter of fact, I did," she said.

"Oh." Ralph nodded. "Good work. I guess I'll uh ... see you tomorrow."

"I guess so," Lois said. She watched him curiously as he walked away.

Clark was also looking after him. "What do you suppose that was all about?"

"Well ... he apologized, I think."

"Maybe Perry finally managed to get through to him," Clark said.

"Maybe." Lois frowned after her coworker. "Jimmy!"

Their junior colleague appeared by her desk in less than a minute. "You bellowed?"

"What's with Ralph?"

Jimmy snorted. "Perry reamed him up one side and down the other. I ... uh ... sort of happened to be in the conference room next to his office when the Chief let him have it."

"Maybe that will end the whole thing," Clark said, hopefully.

Jimmy gave a short laugh. "Don't count on it. He was grousing to me right afterwards about how you seem to think Superman's your personal property." He hesitated. "You didn't leave anything important on your desk a while ago, did you?"

Lois shook her head. "No, I don't think so. Why?"

"Well, I was eating lunch at my desk and Ralph sort of strolled up to your cubicle and I saw him kind of leafing through the notepad you had lying there."

"He what?" Lois consciously kept her voice low, but she saw Jimmy wince. "Sorry. You think he was snooping in my notes?"

"He might have been. He saw me looking at him and put it down."

"Why that ..." She broke off. "There wasn't anything important there, actually, but ..."

"Maybe it wasn't what it looked like," Clark suggested. "It's hard to believe that he'd try to steal your notes. It isn't exactly ethical."

"It's happened before," Lois said.

"Yeah." Clark bit his lip. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Lois said. "Maybe it was innocent, but if he's snooping in my stuff ..."

"I have an idea," Jimmy said. "If he isn't trying anything shady it won't do him any harm, but if he is ..."

Lois raised her eyebrows. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well ..." Jimmy leaned toward her and lowered his voice. "I think we can set up a sting, since he's so interested in your Superman stuff. See what you think of this ..."

##########

##########

Lois dabbed Chanel No.5 behind her ear and drew a deep breath, glancing at her watch. A second deep breath failed to calm her jittering nerves. It was two minutes to six. Time to meet the car that Luthor was supposed to be sending for her down at the entrance of the apartment house. She slipped into her coat -- too light, actually for the temperature outside, but the only one appropriate for the opera -- picked up her elegant little bag and left the apartment, locking it behind her. After all, she reasoned, she wasn't likely to be in the open long enough for the cold to become a significant factor.

Her timing was almost perfect. As she stepped into the lobby, she saw Luthor's long, black limousine pull up in front. Trying to appear casual and unhurried, she opened the door and descended to the street, but her heart was thumping harder than usual. She was literally walking into the lion's den. Clark had stated that he was going to keep an eye on her and she'd told him, with a good deal of, she now admitted privately, false bravado that she was a big girl now and could take care of herself. She had finally compromised in view of his obvious concern for her safety, and agreed that he should check on her every thirty minutes. Now she secretly wished that she had gone along with his wish to watch the entire date from a distance, but it wasn't something that she would ever admit to anyone else.

An older man dressed in a neat dark suit stepped onto the sidewalk. His hair and beard were silver, his expression that of the perfect servant but his dark eyes seemed to regard her closely. As skilled as she was at reading expressions, Lois could decipher nothing of the thoughts behind that bland mask, but his scrutiny gave her the impulse, rigorously suppressed, to squirm uneasily. She smiled brightly at him, but didn't speak. Without changing expression, he silently opened the rear door for her. She thanked him politely and stepped into the car. He closed the door gently behind her, still without a word, and a moment later she saw him get into the driver's seat. The vehicle pulled away from the curb with the silent, ponderous grace that somehow only seems to apply to the most luxurious of vehicles. Lois sat back in the seat, looking around at the elegant interior with a touch of envy. It seemed terribly unfair that someone like Lex Luthor got to enjoy all this stuff, while a (more or less) law-abiding citizen like herself had to exist on a far more modest income. Still, there was nothing to say that she couldn't enjoy it temporarily, even while she planned to bring the owner of all this luxury to face the justice that he so richly deserved.

"Are you comfortable, Ms. Lane?" The courteous voice of the driver startled her out of her thoughts. The cultured, British voice tugged at her memory, although she couldn't quite place it, and its clipped accent was as elegant as her surroundings.

"Yes, thank you," she answered.

"Very good. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask," the expressionless voice said. "I am at your service. My name is Nigel St. John, and I am Mr. Luthor's butler."

"Thank you," Lois said. The voice was maddeningly familiar. She had heard it before, and recently, but the occasion eluded her. Where had she been in a position to hear a British accent? She hadn't been to any upscale social functions in the last ... With a jolt, the memory came back with chilling clarity. In Joey McPherson's apartment, the Boss's representative had spoken with just such an accent. Now she was alert. This might easily be the same voice. He worked for Lex Luthor, after all. Was it possible that Luthor would enlist his butler to do his dirty work?

Well, why not? It would certainly be an asset for someone in Lex Luthor's business to have a trusted servant as ruthless as he was himself. What had he said his name was? Nigel St. John, that was it. She'd give it to Jimmy when she got back and see if he could dig up anything on the man ...

Through the glass that separated the rear of the car from the driver's seat she could see only the back of his head, but in the mirror she saw him glance at her and she thought again that he was looking at her as she might measure someone of whom she was not quite sure. Sizing her up, she thought. This man was no mere butler. The cold, clinical examination was that of an opponent, not a servant. She smiled at his image in the mirror, a bright, innocent smile that she had carefully cultivated, designed to keep the persons she interviewed off their guard and more likely to say things that they might not if they thought she was at all dangerous.

The butler's expression didn't change, but she saw him return his attention to the street ahead. A slight mist had begun to collect on the windshield; the natural result of the icy, winter air outside as it contacted the warmer windshield. She turned to look out the tinted side windows, noting that the streetlights were coming on. The sun had almost set and it was growing more difficult to make out details through the darkened glass. There was nothing really to see anyhow, but if Nigel St. John was watching her she didn't want to seem at all on her guard. She continued to look out the window, trying to seem relaxed. A little nervousness was probably appropriate, she thought. She'd had dinner with Luthor only once and the fact that he had asked her to the opera might indicate to an outside observer that he was showing an interest in her. It was natural that she would be on her best behavior in such a circumstance.

The ride to LexTower seemed to her to take longer than usual, and she was conscious, although she took care not to look again, that the butler was still glancing occasionally at her reflection in the rearview mirror. Was he suspicious of her, she wondered, or was he simply comparing the woman sitting here with her journalistic reputation and wondering if there was any reason to worry? She didn't see how he could have any concrete suspicions of her but it would be natural for someone who served the Boss to be suspicious of an investigative journalist who had become even loosely acquainted with the kingpin of such a huge criminal organization.

Well, tonight she would attempt again to interview Luthor and would accompany him to the opera and be her most charming self. He would expect her to try for that exclusive interview, she thought. She was known to be tenacious, so not to do so would be out of character.

After what seemed to her to be an inordinate amount of time, the limousine pulled up to LexTower's main entrance. A doorman stepped forward to open her door and give her a hand to help her from the depths of the limousine. Nigel St. John turned the vehicle over to a uniformed man who was evidently a valet or chauffeur or something, and led her into the lobby, past the elevators intended for the public and to Luthor's private elevator. She had come up this elevator for the first interview with the billionaire, but her escort then had been the slender, dark man with the turban, who always seemed to her to hover unobtrusively in the background. Lois glanced at the impassive butler standing beside her in the elevator. "I'm hoping that Mr. Luthor will give me a more complete interview this time," she said. "Did he say anything about it to you, Mr. St. John?"

The man's face didn't change. "No, madam."

"I thought maybe he would have told you," Lois pressed.

Still the man's expression didn't change. "What Mr. Luthor does or does not do is no business of the help, madam."

"Oh," Lois said. She fell silent.

The swiftly moving elevator deposited them on the top floor of the penthouse this time, and St. John stood back to let Lois exit first. Lex Luthor was awaiting her as she stepped into the thickly carpeted hallway and held out both hands to her. "Lois, my dear, you look lovely." He took her hand and raised it to his lips. "I trust Nigel was a satisfactory escort from your apartment this evening." He seemed to take her smile for assent, for he turned, tugging her hand into the crook of his arm. "I'm having dinner served on the upper terrace this evening. Now that the storm is over, it will give us a marvelous view."

Recalling the heat lamps when they had danced during her previous visit, Lois had no doubt that she would not need to fear being cold, and her guess proved to be correct. Luthor escorted her past the doorway to his luxurious study, through an elegant sitting room and opened the French doors that gave onto a wide, tiled terrace.

Where the heat source was she had no idea, but the temperature was pleasantly warm when they stepped into the open, and she had no hesitation in removing her coat when a liveried individual appeared to take it. Lex Luthor held her chair while she took her seat and a moment later Nigel St. John appeared in a black coat with tails to serve cocktails.

As Lois had expected, Luthor expertly dodged her questions while appearing to answer them willingly. She elicited very little information that she didn't already know, and nothing of use. As an interview, this dinner was a miserable failure, but as a meal it was better than the dishes served at some of the best restaurants in the world. A dinner such as this would have taken a large chunk out of her paycheck, she thought, savoring every bite. She wasn't likely to eat food like this very often, unless Clark was a gourmet cook. Of course, he might be for all she knew. That dinner he'd cooked the other night had been pretty good; not in this category, of course, but still a lot better than anything she could make. Besides, there was plenty about him that she still didn't know. If he learned at super speed, maybe one of the things he had learned was how to cook.

"Have I lost your attention?" Luthor asked.

"No, of course not," Lois said. "I was just savoring the food. You have a wonderful cook, Lex."

He smiled. "Andre is worth every penny of his salary. I wouldn't want to do without him. So, the last time we had dinner together, you said you wanted another, more in-depth interview with Superman. Did you ever manage it?"

"Not yet," Lois said. "I talked to him today, though, and he's promised to try to make time for me in the next couple of days."

"I hope he keeps his promise," Luthor said. "I want to know more about someone as powerful as he seems to be. I've noticed that his appearance seems slightly exotic. I can't identify any specific ethnic background. Is he human, do you know?"

Lois shrugged. "He looks human, but those powers of his sure aren't. That's one of the things I intend to try to find out when I talk to him again."

"I'm sure that if anyone can, you will," Luthor said, smiling. "I've seen a small sample of your determination already."

"Oh, I'm not done with you yet, Lex," Lois said. "I'm going to get a decent interview from you before I'm through. That's a promise."

He smiled. "I suppose the easiest way would be for me to capitulate and give you your answers. I'll think about it ... if you'll have dinner with me again."

"That's an easy condition to meet," Lois said. "Dinner with you isn't exactly torture."

He chuckled. "I'm happy to hear that. How about next Friday night? The Metropolitan Ballet is giving a Christmas Eve performance of the Nutcracker."

"I'd love to," she said, "but I won't be in town. I'm flying out that evening for a family Christmas get-together."

Luthor smiled. "One has those obligations," he agreed. "The New Year's Eve Ball at the Lexor will be the following Friday. Perhaps I could prevail upon you to allow me to be your escort?"

She hesitated. "It would be wonderful, but I would think you'd want to take someone more socially important than a mere reporter."

He smiled slightly. "The conventions of society don't trouble me greatly. I shall certainly enjoy the evening considerably more if you are my companion rather than some feather-headed female without a thought in her head beyond her latest hairstyle. I prefer a woman with both independence and intelligence, such as you."

It was hard not to feel flattered at his practiced compliments. In person, the charm and mystique of Lex Luthor had its effect, but knowing the kind of person with which she was dealing, Lois was in no danger of losing her head. Still, there was the old saying: "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer". For a moment, she wondered if that was what he was doing as well. "In that case, how can I refuse?"

"Excellent. Then it's a date." He raised his wineglass to her in a half-toast.

Nigel St. John had appeared beside the table while they talked. Luthor glanced casually at him. "Yes, Nigel?"

"You have a phone call, sir." The butler's face was as impassive as ever. "From France." He presented a cellular phone to Luthor.

"France?" The billionaire frowned slightly. "I don't recall ..." He shrugged and picked up the phone. "Luthor." He listened for several seconds, spoke several sentences in French and snapped the device closed.

Lois raised her eyebrows at his expression. "Is something the matter?"

He handed the phone back to his butler. "Apparently a wrong number. Someone wished to speak with a Yvette. He was under the impression that I was her father."

"You're joking," Lois said. "How did he get your number?"

He gave a small chuckle. "It doesn't happen often, but sometimes they filter through," he said. "No matter how many layers separate one from the ordinary, nothing protects one completely from Murphy's Law."

"That's for sure," Lois said. "Murphy's Law has interfered with plenty of my investigations. Sometimes I think the old guy has me on his list for special attention. For instance," she said daringly, "I'd barely got my car back from the repair shop and this afternoon the electrical system developed a short. Clark -- that's my reporting partner -- fixed it for me, but it just goes to show."

"What was the problem?" Luthor asked. In spite of its tone, the question was not an idle one. Lois sipped from her wineglass.

"Clark's had some experience fixing engines on the farm, I guess," she said. "He discovered somebody had planted a bug in my Jeep and the wire had come partly loose. It was shorting out other parts of the system. It wouldn't be the first time."

Luthor raised his eyebrows. "You've had spying devices placed in your Jeep before?"

"Oh, not in the Jeep," Lois said, off-handedly. "Once in my apartment, and a couple of times on my computer. Perry figures it's probably the Whisper or the Dirt Digger again."

"Does this kind of thing happen often?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Not too often, but sometimes. It's one of the hazards of journalism."

"You don't seem upset."

She smiled. "You didn't hear me earlier when Clark found it or you might have a different opinion. They were probably trying to dig up information about Superman. That's the only really big story I'm working on at the moment, but since I've already printed everything that I know, they can't have got much."

He smiled. "Well, it's just as well in that case. But don't tell me that a journalist like you is only working on one story."

"No, of course not, but none of the others is anywhere as big as the Superman story," she said. "Clark and I were thinking of doing an expose on the way the city has been scrimping on infrastructure maintenance, but we're only in the information gathering stage at the moment."

"I see." He glanced up as the dark, turbaned man appeared and silently removed their dinner plates. "I know you normally don't have dessert, but my spies tell me that you like chocolate. I'm sure you won't want to hurt Andre's feelings by turning down his Italian chocolate mousse?"

##########

##########

The chocolate mousse was delicious, as she had expected: a huge, fantasy chocolate creation, probably loaded with calories, but Lois enjoyed every bite. That phone call from France had been from Clark, calling literally from a phone in Paris, which meant that the phone number that they had wondered about indeed belonged to Lex Luthor. It was yet one more small but significant piece of evidence that linked the billionaire to an intricate web of crime, the strands of which apparently reached around the world.

When they had finished, Luthor glanced at his watch. "The first act opens in forty minutes. Are you ready?"

She nodded. "I haven't been to the opera in ages," she confided, "and the last time, I was stuck in the back row. The people on stage looked like ants."

He smiled. "You won't have that problem this time."

She smiled as well, but didn't answer.

Their arrival at the Metropolitan Opera House was a completely different experience than her previous visits to the opera, but then she had expected it to be. The limousine pulled to a stop in front of the main entrance and a man in a blue uniform loaded with gold braid stepped forward to open the door for them. Lex Luthor exited first and then turned to give her a hand. Lois slid from the vehicle with a smile of thanks and glanced around.

Many well-dressed persons were entering the opera house. Lois recognized one of the wealthiest developers in the city from an interview she had done with him the year before. A well-known socialite with a fortune in diamonds around her neck preceded them, with the newest in her string of escorts. Lois tried to keep her face straight as she glanced around at the cream of Metropolis's society, as well as the gathering of persons apparently present simply to catch a glimpse of fame.

And for a second, she caught sight of a face in the crowd that seemed briefly familiar. She couldn't quite place it, but she had seen it sometime not so long ago. The man was tall and spare, with pale blue eyes and thinning brown hair, a dark mole on one side of his narrow nose and a sour expression. She caught only the briefest of glimpses before the individual turned away and was lost in the mob of spectators. She opened her mouth to speak and then thought better of it. Lex Luthor guided her up the two broad steps and into the velvet-lined lobby. She was marginally aware of the flashes from several cameras and it dawned on her that she was probably going to be splashed across the society pages tomorrow morning, but there was nothing she could do about that. A short time later, she was looking around the Luthor private box.

The box was in the perfect location to view the stage and the singers; that, of course, wasn't a surprise. From what she had learned of Lex Luthor, he would definitely demand the best of everything, and the third-richest man in the world could certainly afford to get what he wanted. He remained silent, watching her with an indulgent air while she examined the comfortable seating area and settled at last in a spot from which she could not only see the stage but a large portion of the rest of the room. Luthor sat beside her and lifted a hand to an older woman who was waving from another box, a short distance away.

"Celestine Manholm," he identified her to Lois. "She's been a devotee of the opera for many years. For longer than I have been coming here," he added. "It's a rare Wednesday or Friday night that she isn't in attendance."

The orchestra had begun to tune up, and they were silent. Lois wouldn't have dared to raise her voice to be heard over the racket, anyhow. She leaned forward to watch the action in the orchestra pit. One of the violinists was arguing violently with the guy with the bass fiddle, and the man with the drums was lightly tapping his instruments with a kind of metal brush arrangement. The huge tuba in the back appeared to her at first to be without a player, but then she realized that the instrument was wound around a tiny, pencil-thin woman with pale blond hair. Lois stared openly. The woman looked as if she should be playing a flute or a harp or something, not the massive piece of metal that she was handling. It just showed, she thought, that one shouldn't form stereotypes.

The lights darkened suddenly, and Lois saw the silhouette of the conductor step up before his musicians. The music swelled and the curtains rolled smoothly open, and she was swept away into a world of gods, dragons, heroes and wonderful music.

Some time later, she was brought back to the present as the lights of Intermission came up and Luthor left the box with her in tow to speak with several acquaintances. Lois remained silent except to acknowledge introductions. She nodded and smiled a great deal and found herself feeling uncomfortably as though she were a trophy on display as her escort moved about among the upper crust of Metropolis, engaging in light conversation. Eventually, to Lois's relief, they returned to the box for the second half of the production.

When it finally ended and the lights came up, she sighed. "That was beautiful."

"Yes, it was." Luthor smiled at her. "Siegfried has always been one of my favorites." He got slowly to his feet. "I'm sorry the evening has to end. I've particularly enjoyed your company tonight."

Lois lowered her eyes. "I'm flattered."

"I never flatter," Luthor said. "To flatter you would be telling a lie. I'm speaking the truth, and I'm looking forward to New Year's Eve."

"So am I," Lois said, mendaciously. She got to her feet and let him help her with her coat. Together, they made their way toward the exit. Luthor stopped several times to greet people, but eventually they stood by the curb, waiting for their limousine.

There were two cars ahead of it. Lois was beginning to feel distinctly chilled when the long, black car finally pulled up by the curbside and a uniformed man, wearing a ridiculous amount of gold braid, Lois thought, opened the rear door for them. Lois climbed in and gave a sigh of relief at the warmth in the interior of the car. Lex Luthor got in beside her.

As the big, powerful car pulled away from the curb, Lois sat back in the seat, basking in the comfortable temperature. Luthor leaned forward and spoke to the driver through the privacy partition, giving him Lois's address. The chauffeur nodded without turning his head.

Luthor pressed a small button and a compartment beneath the front seat opened obediently. Lois saw, to her surprise, that he was lifting a bottle of champagne from an ice bucket that had been stored in a hidden, refrigerated compartment. He produced a pair of fluted glasses from another concealed panel and poured a frothing glass for her. "Champagne?"

She nodded, speechless, and accepted the goblet. He poured himself a glassful as well, set the bottle back in its bucket and lifted the glass. "To ... friendship," he said and sipped the amber liquid. Lois did the same. The sparkling beverage was very good, but then she had expected nothing less.

They drank their champagne in silence for several minutes. Lois was aware of a comfortable fatigue and was looking forward to reaching her apartment. Her heeled shoes might be stylish but her feet had begun to hurt some time ago and being able to take them off was becoming a major goal. Hopefully, Clark would either be there waiting or would come by soon and they could discuss their next move in the Luthor investigation. At least with Lucy in Europe with the brothers Chow she wouldn't have to worry about being interrupted at an inconvenient moment if she and Clark chose to engage in a little non-work-related activity as well.

But Lex, of course, didn't need to know that.

"You're very quiet," Luthor said, at last.

Lois smiled at him. "Just a little tired, I'm afraid. Clark and I wound up reporting on an arson in Suicide Slum last night -- as if an arson there is unusual -- and I didn't get to sleep until nearly three."

He shook his head. "The hours of a journalist must be very irregular."

"They are. We'd been on a stakeout nearby, involving a local politician and allegations of corruption, and sort of fell into the arson story."

Luthor frowned. "I must admit the thought of you taking risks of that sort disturbs me."

"I didn't win three Kerths by reporting on dog shows," Lois said.

"Quite true, and I shouldn't allow myself to fall into stereotyping again," he admitted. "Besides, you have a partner now. I admit, I wondered about this new partner of yours -- Kent?"

"That's right. Clark Kent," Lois said, sounding casual with great effort on her part.

"More champagne?" he asked, interrupting himself.

"No, thanks." Lois finished the champagne. "You've been reading my work?"

He smiled at her. "Is that so unlikely? Ever since I got to know the real Lois Lane, everything about you interests me. As far as I can tell, you've never worked with a partner before."

"Actually, I've worked with several partners; they just never last long," Lois said. "My editor has the same concerns about my safety as you do and keeps trying to saddle me with them. You'd think by now that he'd realize I can take care of myself. Still, Clark's not too bad as partners go. At least he's not afraid to take risks like some of the previous ones Perry's tried to saddle me with. He's actually been some help. He supplies the touchy-feely angle to articles that I'm not so much in tune with."

He raised his eyebrows at her tone. "Do I detect a certain pique at your editor's concern?"

Lois smiled, lowering her gaze. "Maybe a little."

"So, it's a strictly work-related partnership."

"That's about it," Lois said.

"Well, if he helps to keep you safe on these investigations of yours, I can hardly complain," Luthor said. "I hope to see much more of you in the future. Your company turned an ordinary evening into an extraordinary one. I've rarely enjoyed the opera more than I have tonight."

Lois smiled modestly and looked down, wondering somewhat nervously where this conversation was going. "Neither have I. It's been a lovely evening."

"Then I hope there will be many more." He glanced casually at the back of the chauffeur's head. "Peter, however seems to be taking an inordinate amount of time to reach your apartment. It's been nearly half an hour." He leaned forward to touch the intercom. "Peter, what is the delay?"

"Traffic, sir," the muffled voice of the chauffeur replied.

"At this hour?" Luthor murmured.

"There was a football game this evening," Lois said, "but I'd think it would have finished by now." The darkened glass made it almost impossible to see out and she turned back to Luthor. "I wonder if there's an accident ahead or something."

"If the Tigers won, the celebrations may be causing traffic problems." Lex shrugged it off. "No matter."

"So tell me, Lex," Lois began, "the legend is that you went from rags to riches in a matter of only a few short years. It's a little hard to believe that someone could do that, even with your magic touch. What's the real story behind it?"

He smiled in genuine amusement. "You never give up, do you?"

"I didn't get to be where I am by giving up," she said, smiling archly back. "You wouldn't have, either, I imagine."

"Very well," he conceded. "I won a small nest egg, gambling. Poker, actually. I bought shares in a small company that had excellent potential but poor management. I won't go into detail, but I managed to influence the board of directors to replace the management and brought the business out of near-bankruptcy. That was the start of LexCorp."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "That's quite a picturesque story. I might not believe it from another man, but with you ... I think I might."

"Thank you," he said.

The big car came to a slow, noiseless, majestic stop. Luthor glanced at the driver and then back to Lois. "Well, it appears that we have finally arrived."

The chauffeur turned off the engine, opened the driver's door, and stepped out. He closed the door with a sharp click. Lois reached for her small bag, preparatory to getting out. "It's been a wonderful evening," she said again.

"I hope it's only the first of many to come," Luthor said. He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it lightly. "You're a remarkable woman, Lois Lane."

"Thank you," she said.

Silence. The big car was virtually soundproof and Lois could hear none of the sounds of passing traffic. She waited with mild impatience for the chauffeur to open the door but seconds passed and became minutes, and the door did not open.

"What's keeping him?" she said at last.

"I can't imagine." Luthor peered through the tinted glass and Lois turned to look as well. It was pitch black outside; she couldn't even see the lights of passing cars, and for a second a small chill ran over her scalp.

Another minute passed and another. With a small sound of exasperation, Luthor reached for the door handle and pushed the door open.

Darkness met their startled gaze. Instead of a city sidewalk and the steps to her apartment building Lois found herself looking at a dirt road, muddy with snow and tire tracks, and beyond that, darkness and the jagged silhouettes of tall trees against a cloudy night sky.

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