Late that night, Chloe arrived at the Kent farm in her VW Beetle. Clark was still in the barn, hammering nails into beam supports.
"You could do that with your bare hands, Clark," Chloe said.
"This is how my dad fixed things," Clark replied. "That's how I'll do it." For several minutes, Clark quietly repaired the damage in the barn. He was at peace – using the tools of his father, wearing his father's watch. It seemed appropriate, even though he could have done the work in half the time if he used his own powers. "It just feels more human," he added.
"Wow, your visit to WayneTech must have made a bigger impact that I thought," Chloe said. "Jimmy tells me that Lex and Lana were having a late dinner at the Four Seasons. He was on "paparazzi" duty at the Luthor Commerce Square shindig."
"Good for him," Clark said in as neutral a tone as possible. Chloe resisted the urge to smirk at Clark's apparent discomfort at her rekindled relationship with an old flame.
"I feel bad for Lana," Chloe said, steering the conversation away from the topic. "Bruce hasn't returned any of her calls or email. It's really not fair to her – despite what Bruce thinks about her and Lex."
"I know," Clark sighed. He took off the tool belt and placed it carefully on a workbench. "Bruce said Lana seemed to understand what he's been going through. He hasn't stopped grieving for his parents since their deaths. Lana only wants to help him." He wiped the sawdust off his hands with a rag cloth. The barn would need at least a full week's work to repair all the damage. "I don't think she can help him now. He's cut himself off from everyone, maybe even Alfred …"
Chloe blinked in surprise. "Alfred? That can't be right. Alfred practically raised Bruce to become the Gotham tycoon that he is now." She recalled Alfred's stories about teaching the young Bruce how to behave like an 'honest gentleman' and how hard it had been to keep Bruce out of harm's way. "No one else has a stronger bond with Bruce."
"Bruce told me that he and Alfred had an argument – around the time Zod took over Lex's body," Clark revealed. "They've haven't really spoken since the summer."
Chloe pulled out her cell phone and retrieved an archived email from Alfred. She had become close friends with the former British Army officer and intelligence agent over the past few years, beginning with their encounter with a German anarchist in Toronto. "Since Alfred came in from the cold," she said, "he's done some freelance security consulting for about a dozen Western governments and corporations – including Wayne Enterprises and Queen Industries." She sat beside Clark, who had rested on a bale of hay. "I wouldn't worry," she continued. "Alfred can be overprotective about the 'First Son of Gotham'. I'm sure it's nothing more than a minor spat. Alfred is visiting friends and family in England. He'll be back in Gotham before you know it." She wasn't entirely convinced, since she hadn't heard from Alfred since he left for the UK.
There was a snapping sound outside, followed by a muffled curse – somewhere in the shadows of the barn door. Chloe immediately reached for the hammer that Clark had used moments before. Clark stood in front of her, protectively. "Who's there?" Clark snarled. "Show yourself."
A man in a dark trench coat and fedora appeared. "Mr. Clark Kent. Ms. Chloe Sullivan. We meet again." The shadows revealed a wiry, middle-aged man with grey-flecked hair and wide-rimmed glasses.
"Detective John Munch?" Chloe gasped. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Clark gulped. He remembered the time, not so long ago, when Det. Munch and his partner had escorted him home after he testified at Lex's murder trial in New York City. Lex was found not guilty of the murder of a LuthorCorp. employee, but the doubts about his innocence remained. While at a gas station near Smallville, Clark had fallen ill because of the green meteor rocks on the roadside … and Det. Munch had noticed. Clark had claimed then that it was bad airline food.
It now seemed that the detective didn't buy his alibi.
Chloe slowly reached for her cell phone on the workbench. Munch raised his hand. "Easy there, Miss Sullivan. Don't even try. And don't try to make a break for it. I've got a sharpshooter out there with night-vision goggles and he's a very good shot."
"You're lying!" Clark insisted. He could easily subdue the detective, but he still clung to the hope that Munch could prove nothing about his secret origins and abilities. Discretion seemed to be the best move now.
"Go ahead, Kal-El," Munch replied. He leaned casually against one of the barn's beam pillars. "Take your chance. Let's see if you really are faster than a speeding bullet."
Clark froze. How did Munch know his Kryptonian name? "I beg your pardon?"
"Look, Clark," Munch approached slowly, his hand resting on his gun holster. "We can play secrets-and-lies charades all night long, or you can admit your true identity as the last son of a dead alien race. But the Kryptonians aren't so dead – are they? We narrowly averted an alien coup d'etat of global proportions. It's my job to make sure humanity keeps the alien barbarians at bay."
"Maybe you should pay the NYPD psychologist a visit," Chloe snapped back. "I think your job is affecting your judgment!" Munch tossed Chloe a dog-eared manila folder, labelled 'Kent, Clark / Kal-El of Krypton'. Chloe read the pages … and her jaw dropped. Munch knew almost everything: the 1989 meteor shower and its effects on Smallville's residents, Jason Teague, Lana's possession by a medieval witch, Dr. Swann, the Kawatche Caves, Jor-El and a cryptic note about Clark's adoption with an arrow pointing towards 'see: Lionel Luthor file'.
"How do you know all this?" Chloe gawked. "When did you --?"
"You're not the only one in America with a Wall of Weird," Munch replied. "The master copy of that file is secure. If anything happens to me, your illegal alien buddy over here gets a Homeland Security wake-up call and becomes CNN's top story in twenty-four hours. Think twice before you choose to test my resolve in defending our planet."
"What do you want with me?" Clark demanded. "Are you going to turn me over to the feds?"
"I'm not here on official business," Munch replied. "Inquiring minds want to know why the Last Son of Krypton was sent to America. Are you here to make the world a better place, or subjugate mankind under the boot of alien dictatorship? Your selfless heroism suggests the former, but the recent Dark Thursday crisis and your inexplicable friendship with Lex Luthor is evidence of the latter."
"I don't stand with Zod," Clark declared, casting aside any illusions about his alien origins. "I defeated him. And, Lex and I aren't friends … not any more."
"For now, Clark," Munch frowned. "I doubt Zod will be gone for long. The FBI will be too busy chasing shampoo-bottle terrorists and shoe-bombers to notice when he returns. Even now, the government is chalking up Dark Thursday as junk mail meltdown – another bug in Microsoft Outlook. Blame everything on Bill Gates. We know better, don't we – Kal-El!"
Before Clark could react, Munch pulled a green meteor rock from his pocket and tossed it at Clark's feet. Clark swiftly collapsed as the sickening green rock bathed him in its poisonous glow.
Chloe flung the rock across the barn. "Are you crazy? It can hurt him!"
Clark stumbled and Munch helped him up. "Sorry about that," the detective said. "I had to confirm it with my own eyes. You truly are the last son of a lost planet." As Clark recovered, Chloe glared angrily at the New York detective.
"Now unless you're going to read Clark his Miranda rights -- you owe us an explanation!" Chloe exclaimed.
"Alfred Pennyworth is a friend of mine," Munch stated. "Don't worry. No one at Wayne Manor knows about Clark's Kryptonian adventures -- yet. Your secret is too dangerous to reveal at this point."
"You know Alfred?" Clark wondered. "And what does he have to do with your spy-versus-spy parlour tricks?"
Munch chuckled. "And I thought Chloe was the witty one here!" Clark crossed his arms defensively – he still didn't trust the detective.
"At ease, Mr. Kent," Munch assured him. "Alfred considers you as a friend." He held out his hand. "That makes you a friend of mine. An ally of circumstance, for the moment." Cautiously, Clark extended his hand and shook Munch's hand.
"Just to clear the air," Munch continued, "I knew Alfred when he did consulting for the British Embassy in Washington and I was on the homicide squad at Baltimore P.D. He helped us on an investigation into a murder linked to human trafficking. The Jazzman is one slippery scumbag."
"Why are you investigating me?" Clark asked. "If you're not here to expose me … why are you doing it?"
Munch took off his glasses and stared directly at Clark. "Your secret is so close, so close to being exposed. Lex has come pretty damn close to uncovering your whole Pandora's box. Your nick-of-time heroics have become the stuff of legends among the conspiracy community, but you're taking tremendous risks by using your abilities in the public arena. There are people out there … governments … who will seize any opportunity to use your knowledge and powers for nefarious purposes. I can't let that happen."
"Then it begs the question: now that you know Clark's secret, what are you going to do with it?" Chloe asked.
"Someone has to keep an objective account of human history," Munch said, "before the Zods and Milton Fines of the galaxy transform our planet into an alien 7-Eleven pit stop. I'm not putting my faith in Homeland Security to deal with future alien threats. But all this is a mere sidebar to the real reason for my visit. Alien invaders will have to wait. We have a more pressing, earthly issue upon us."
Munch retrieved his backpack and pulled out another file, labelled: 'Pennyworth, Alfred'. He took out a heavily censored US State Department memo and handed it to Chloe.
Chloe digested as much of the information as she could. "The Checkmate Protocols? This is all conspiracy-fuelled speculation … discredited by dozens of university researchers and think-tanks on both the left and the right!" She abruptly handed the file back to Munch.
"And who funds those eggheads, Miss Sullivan?" Munch countered. "Big business and the government! It's not voodoo. It's fact. If a cynic like myself can believe that your corn-fed buddy over here is the last son of a vanished alien race … then you can believe in the Checkmate Protocols."
"I'm lost," Clark confessed. "What are the Checkmate Protocols?"
"Assuming that Det. Munch hasn't completely lost his marbles," Chloe said, "it's a classified mandate for a rogue branch of the US Government. Supposedly, shadowy members of the federal government have given themselves a license to use unorthodox methods to achieve 'American interests': black-ops, sabotage, kidnapping, assassinations are allegedly among their less-savoury tricks. It's the Phoenix Program on Red Bull – at least, on paper. That's assuming this whole thing isn't a load of conspiracy bull--"
"Cow pies aside, Ms. Sullivan," Munch interjected, "let's get back to the present. Alfred's visiting his family in England, you say?"
"Yeah!" Chloe said. "He's been so busy with his security consulting that he felt the summer was the only time he had left to –"
"Security consulting?" Munch wondered. "So, that's what he's calling it now! I assume you've been led to believe that Alfred is no longer in the spying game? I'm going to suggest to you that Alfred Pennyworth has never really left the game. In fact, he's very much an active player these days. A friend of a friend of mine received an email from our scone-serving pal a few weeks ago."
Bruce's recent disagreement with Alfred seemed to make more sense to Clark. "So that's why he hasn't spoken to Bruce," Clark said. "Bruce was always worried that Alfred would take up his old trade, and Alfred didn't want Bruce to know what he's up to!"
Munch sighed, toying with a bolt from the workbench. "If that's the case, Clark – then we may have a bigger problem on our hands. My contacts at MI6 tell me that Alfred checked in at HQ about a week ago. My guess is he's stepped back into the cold." In an unexpected display of raw emotion, Munch flung the bolt across the barn in frustration.
"Det. Munch?" Chloe sensed that there was more to the story than Alfred merely looking up old friends at MI6. "You've got to fill in the blanks for us, or we won't be able to help you. We're as worried about Alfred as you are."
"The Checkmate Protocols are now active," Munch grumbled. "Their acolytes exist in every branch of government, answerable only to a clandestine security chief with unknown resources at his disposal. They'll wrap themselves in the flag and dishonour everything the Constitution stands for. They've had their eye on new recruits for sometime. These are dangerous times – fear is a powerful motivator. If you're not with the good guys, you're labelled as a traitor. In such an environment, Alfred is that rare breed of spy: he still has his humanity. A man like that could be a threat to them."
Clark settled onto a bale of hay. "You think Alfred's going on some sort of one-man mission to expose them?" Alfred's moral convictions rivalled that of his late father.
"That's the best case scenario – if a death wish can be considered good news."
"And the bad scenario?" Chloe asked the question no one wanted to hear.
"They may already know he's on to them," Munch stated coolly. "His life may be in danger. That is, if he's still alive."
Chloe paced nervously. Both she and Clark has long suspected that Alfred still kept in touch with his contacts in MI6 and their counterparts in the CIA and other Western intelligence agencies.
"Do you have any idea where he might have gone, Det. Munch?" Chloe asked.
"I was hoping you might know, Miss Sullivan," Munch said. "His trail's gone cold. I have a few questions I'd like him to answer." He passed Chloe his calling card. "I'll do what I can on my end. You know how to reach me." He put on his trench coat and walked into the night.
"You don't really have a sniper out there – do you?" Clark observed.
"I came here alone," Munch said. "The ruse was a necessity: I had to be sure that you're on our side. My pals in New York's Finest think I'm looking at antiques in Vermont. Goodbye, Kal-El. And, for your own good, stay the hell out of LuthorCorp's schemes." He motioned with his hands that he was going to keep a close eye on Clark.
When Munch left, Clark placed his tool belt in a storage trunk. The barn repairs would have to wait. The fallout of Dark Thursday was just another problem on a growing list of crises. Bruce and Lex's tattered friendship was about to snap (an event that would likely ripple far beyond Wayne Manor and Luthor Mansion), someone else had uncovered his secret and Alfred Pennyworth was missing.
Clark quickly put on his jacket. "Pack up your laptop, Chloe. We've got to find Alfred … before those Checkmate operatives do!" He didn't want to wait a moment longer.
"You may have great abilities," Chloe replied, "but walking on water all the way to England isn't one of them … right? Anyway, there's no way we'd be able to track Alfred. He's former British SAS. He'll be way ahead of us by the time we find his trail – if we even find it! I doubt he's even in the UK now." Chloe put on her jacket and sprinted towards her car.
"Wait! Where are you going?" Clark called out after her.
"I'm going back to the Daily Planet," Chloe said. "I've got to uncover as much about these Checkmate Protocols as possible. The archives should have every story about government-funded black-ops or counter-insurgency activities over the past decade. If I can find a pattern, we may be able to figure out what their M.O. is."
"I'll talk to Lionel," Clark concluded. "If anyone has an inside track on hidden government agendas, he's the guy." He was about to get into his truck when he paused. In all the confusion about covert agencies, revealed secrets and alien conspiracies, he had forgotten about one person who would be most affected by Alfred's absence: Bruce Wayne.
"About Wayne Manor …" Clark began, but Chloe quickly interrupted him.
"Clark," she began, "you're one of Bruce's closest friends – even more so now, because Lex has turned away from him. You need to tell Bruce. Alfred is his only family." Chloe's Beetle puttered into the darkness, towards Metropolis.
Clark climbed up to his loft and admired the tranquil Kansas sky. Nothing could disturb its rural peace. He wished that it would last forever, but the past half hour had changed everything. He hesitated, but he dialled the direct line to Wayne Manor and hoped that Gotham's most famous socialite had returned from Metropolis.
"Bruce?" Clark answered. "It's Clark. I have something to tell you …" For a moment, Clark considered telling him everything – including his secret. He wanted to trust Bruce, but the billionaire also kept secrets from him. Bruce never explained why he went on sabbaticals around the globe, some lasting two months or longer. He had become moodier and even more reclusive. Clark feared that they were also drifting apart because they couldn't truly confide in one another. "It's about Alfred," he continued.
"I'm listening," Bruce fell silent. He felt responsible for driving Alfred away. Alfred only wanted to help him overcome his demons and was concerned that Bruce was slowly giving in to them. You may be right, Alfred, Bruce shuddered. He was afraid that he lacked the will to complete what he had started so long ago, beneath the caverns of his father's estate.
"He's gone back to MI6," Clark explained. Alfred was a friendly and compassionate man, but the butler also concealed an unpredictable and lethal edge to his personality, forged in an unspoken past and steeped in the blood of the Cold War. His fiancee died during his last mission. Alfred was also the only Wayne employee permitted to own a gun. Had the ghosts of his murky past come to reclaim him?
Clark put on his jacket and checked his watch. It was almost 1 a.m. and he would shake Lionel Luthor awake if necessary, to find Alfred Pennyworth.
The calm he had recently felt in the barn faded; there would be no refuge now.
A storm was approaching …
To be continued in "Nightshade", the latest in a series of short stories: Alfred is missing – or dead. The search for the missing butler exposes truths in both the Luthor and Wayne camps, in Smallville and beyond. Will Bruce and Lex finally make amends … or cast aside their friendship forever?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The character of Det. John Munch, cynical cop and conspiracy theorist, has a history of appearing out of his own continuity (the TV crime dramas Law and Order: SVU and Homicide). The Munch character has also existed in the X-Files universe. Naturally, he's a fit for Smallville! The murder trial of Lex Luthor in New York refers to the events in my Smallville-Law and Order crossover, "Purchase of Power". There is a Checkmate organization in the DC Comics universe, but the similarity ends there. These stories have an internal continuity, which runs parallel to actual Smallville events but sometimes diverts from them. Again, dramatic license will prevail over loyalty to strict canon.