The noise cut through the whoosh of water falling in the sink. Oliver turned off the faucet. The electric accent of Jimmy Hendrix's guitar filled the foggy air again. He put his razor down and padded out of the bathroom to pick up the phone. He grinned at the name on the screen.

"Hey, Sidekick, miss me already?"

Chloe's answer rustled through, escorted by a giggle. Oliver stared at the phone in surprise. "Chlo?"

The next sounds were clipped and muffled. He wondered if she'd hit call by mistake when Tess' voice purred in.

"Come on… Nadia… Much nicer…"

Who the hell was Nadia? And since when Tess twaddled like a ninny? He frowned when a masculine voice answered the babble. "You know Nadia?"

Oliver put the phone on speaker, walking quickly to his closet for a shirt. What he heard next froze his blood. "Evgeni khochet uvidet' blondinku."

Oliver stood very still for a full minute, pacing his breathing. Nabokov had Chloe. And Tess. The only thing he could hear now was static. Jammers. He didn't dare touch the phone and loose communications altogether.

He pulled on his jeans and switched the microphone off, just in case. Then he stepped on the balcony and yelled at the top of his lungs.

He'd barely turned to pick up his only link to Chloe when a gust of wind sent the papers on the nightstand flying. Oliver didn't even turn. "Chloe's in trouble."

"Where is she?"

"The Russian mob has her."

"What!?"

Clark Kent clenched his fists. His eyes narrowed in concentration. Oliver guessed he was trying to pick up her voice or something alike. "Hold it, Boy Scout, you can't go in there guns blazing. They… They have a drug with something Chloe calls Kryptonite in it."

The dark-haired man looked stricken. Then he squared his jaw. "I don't care. I am stronger now. I—"

"I can get her out." I think/hope/pray. "But I need your help to get there. I can't lose an hour in traffic. Then I want her and Tess back here ASAP once it's done."

"Who's Tess? And what about you?"

Nice of you to ask.

"I am more valuable alive." Here was hoping, considering what happened at the manor.

Oliver selected a watch in his drawer and slipped it on. He closed the clasp with in a neat, precise gesture. Everything else would stay bottled inside. The only way to get his girl out was to keep on iron leash on his feelings. He grabbed his jacket.

"If we are still inside after fifteen minutes, I want you to call first Barbara Hall and Hal Jordan. Their numbers are preprogrammed. Call Hal first."

"The Green Lantern."

"Yes. Barbara works for me at Queen Industries. She'll take another, let's say a more… Let say public approach."

"Okay. But if anything—"

Oliver growled, his eyes almost black in fury. "I don't give a rat ass about what you or Lois or anyone else have to say. If she gets hurt, I'll kill them."

Clark took one step back. For a second, he seemed ready to refuse his help. A boy scout through and through, Oliver cursed in his head. He tossed the useless phone to Kent. "Let's move."

Oliver had to brass one hand against the wall to steady himself. His stomach reluctantly agreed to fall down into place when oxygen finally reentered his lungs.

"That was… unpleasant."

"Chloe and Lois never complained about it."

Yeah, I bet they didn't. Clark looked so serious Oliver kept his comment for himself. Clearly the man had no sense of humor. He breathed in deeply again and again, until he was sure his stomach would stay where it belonged when he'd straighten up. Clark was eyeing the building with a squint look on his face.

"There's no one in the close vicinity of that door, I could—"

How did he do that?

"NO, Clark. We don't know what sort of kryptonite they use. I'd rather not have you incapacitated or turned feral. Stick to the plan and wait by the front door. Or here. Whatever."

Oliver straightened up to his full height and marched toward the mastodont guarding the door without a look back. He recognized the Cerberus from his previous visit.

"I—"

He barely had opened his mouth before the man turned to open the door for him. Apparently, the man remembered him too.

Oliver strode forward. Let Clark use his supervision, or super hearing to follow what was happening inside. From the moment that door closed, he had only one goal. Find Chloe and Tess and get them out as fast as possible.

The absence of noises inside the club was eerie. He refused to let it frazzle his nerves. The line he'd set to walk was a fine trick between Chess play and Poker bluff. Think four moves in advance with your cards close to your chest. Oliver arrived at the end of the corridor. He couldn't afford to appear hesitant, or give Nabokov more of an upper hand than the man thought he already had.

He stopped at the entrance of the cavernous space of the main room. "Evgeni, you have something that belongs to me."

Oliver kept his voice even, his face neutral. The microphones and cameras would do the rest. Seconds ticked away while he kept his stance, taking in the empty room before him. At this hour, the employees had finished prepared the club for the night to come. Even the cage was spotless, ready for the next fight. The wait pulled at the anxious strings inside him. He tried to figure out how long it'd been since he called Clark to the rescue. Five, eight minutes? Surely not long enough for the Russian to…

"Join us, then, my friend."

The call came from his right. Oliver turned in the direction of the box he'd occupied a couple of weeks before. From this angle, he guessed more than saw three silhouettes inside, all seated: two women, one man. The height difference was enough to tell him who was Tess and who was Chloe.

Evgeni stood when he entered the box, extending his hand. Oliver took it because he had to stay in character. Staying in character also forbad him to crush the other man's bones into dust. "We have other obligations."

"Surely you can stay long enough to hear the delightful Miss Mercer through her audition."

Oliver tried not to betray his ignorance. Chloe kept her eyes on Tess, her cheeks paler by the minute. Without more clues about what lie they'd weaved to gain entrance, he didn't have a choice but to follow Evgeni's lead. He prayed that whatever Tess had in mind, she could deliver it as well as the simpering pinup she'd transformed herself into. She was a sight. Oliver shrugged and motioned to the redhead to go on.

Village au fond de la vallée

Comme égaré, presqu'ignoré

Voici qu'en la nuit étoilée

Un nouveau-né nous est donné

Jean-François Nicot, qu'il se nomme

Il est joufflu, tendre et rosé

À l'église, beau petit homme

Demain tu seras baptisé.

Une cloche sonne, sonne

Sa voix d'écho en écho

DÏtes au monde qui s'étonne

"C'est pour Jean-François Nicot"

C'est pour accueillir une âme

Une fleur qui s'ouvre au jour

À peine, à peine une flamme

Encore faible qui réclame

Protection, tendresse, amour

(Les Trois Cloches, Jean Villard)

The delicate note ebbed away in the silent box. Tess closed her mouth and curtsied. Oliver swallowed his surprise and took her hand to kiss her. "Darling, I told you I would get you an audition with a real manager…"

The gesture allowed him to convey a silent reassurance to Chloe without Evgeni noticing. The man seemed caught between a frown and a beam. He liked neither expression on his face.

Oliver stood to his full 6ft3, Tess's hand still in his. "We must be off."

"Miss Mercer is yours, I take it."

Crap. "Tess is my friend. And this blonde goddess," Oliver extended his free hand to Chloe "is my fiancée."

Her cold fingers stilled before they reached his. Damned it. Nabokov grinned from ear to ear. "Ah! She seems uncertain of that title, as I don't see a ring…"

Oliver stepped forward. The gesture was futile, he knew, since anyone could walk in behind him from that damned corridor. But this was a game of posturing, and he was very good at that. "There would be one, if you hadn't decided to give a lesson to the best jewelers in town."

Evgeni lost his smile. Oliver pressed on, his tone as pleasant as a Siberian winter. "I have tolerated your presence in Star City and your little businesses. I even accepted to be on the receiving end of your Patsans' training game." Oliver ignored the man's sudden frown. "All things considered, I have been quite amiable. But it seems you forgot who I am. Don't try my patience, Evgeni. Your associates in Moscow don't like losing money. I have billions at my disposal, and I know how to use them."

The look he got in return told him he had struck a nerve. "I am sorry to discover our friendship is so fragile, Oliver. Those beautiful ladies came to my club willingly, and they are going with you of course, since it seems their talents are wanted elsewhere."

Oliver tried not to react to the insult. He had made a new enemy, a dangerous one. But he'd expected that coming in. The lamp sent a green shadow on the wall as he turned. Surely not…

"Proshchaniye, Evgeni. And Merry Christmas."

"Good bye."

Oliver escorted the two women slowly out of the box and up the corridor, his steps measured so that Chloe didn't have to rush after him. Tess stayed in character, a pout on her beautiful face. He held the door long enough for everybody to get out, going last. Clark Kent was nowhere in sight. Oliver started down the street until he spotted the person he was hoping to see.

Hal leaned against the hood of a car, twirling his sunglasses between his thumb and index. Oliver didn't recognize the car. He didn't want to know and he didn't ask. They were out of the club. All he wanted was to get Chloe far away from it.

"Where's—"

Hal shook his head. Oliver stopped himself mid-sentence.

Hal whistled. "Nice outfit, Red. I like the look."

Tess bristled, but she climbed in the car without a word.

Chloe stared back and forth between him and Hal, until he pressed his hand gently in her back. "Let's go."