>>> from the journal of H. G. Wells
My situation has advanced beyond vexing and has become most disturbing.
I have finally determined precisely why my machine will not activate, and also why I am unable to utilize my communications device to contact my nominal superiors. It is not the fault of the machinery, nor have I forgotten how to utilize it properly. It is because the time stream itself has become muddled, almost certainly due to my eagerness to bring Clark Kent and Lois Lane together and my apparent interference with their destinies.
Had this Clark met this Lois some years ago when they were both younger, before Lois was taken from the Congo, I believe it is probable that they would have followed a path similar to that which their analogues on most other worlds have; namely, they would have fallen in love and married in due time. But they are both older, have had far different life experiences, and have grown – or, in Lois’ case, possibly been twisted – into someone quite different from the person either one was half a decade past. I truly hope that I have not damaged either one’s chances for happiness.
It is also possible that there are forces at work outside my ken which are attempting to prevent Lois and Clark from becoming who I believe they should be, both to each other and to the world. And if that is so, it is also possible that I have indeed frustrated those evil intentions.
Perhaps I have once again thwarted a plot engineered by my enemy Tempus, this time without his deliberately planning to do so. Forcing Lois Lane to become a criminal would certainly suit his convoluted sense of irony, and my foiling such a scheme would surely cause him much grief. Yet I cannot depend on such a set of circumstances unfolding in this manner.
More troubling, there are aspects to this version of Lois Lane which are hidden to me. I am still unable to trace her actions and her movements from the week she arrived in the Congo and disappeared until the day I deliberately provoked an encounter with her in Brussels. I have uncovered only vague rumors and unsettling references to her. And there are signs that her current method of supporting herself is not at all legal, although I believe she may be forgiven much for surviving on her own for so long in such hostile environments.
But I cannot be certain of any of this. I am merely speculating, and doing so without verifiable information. The outcome of whatever I have set in motion is still very much in doubt. I am unable to peer into the future of this timeline beyond an hour at most, though that maximum is not reachable often. Most of my scrutiny of what will come has been limited to mere minutes, although I have succeeded in avoiding being noticed by the police on two occasions by such narrow margins.
Still, I am somewhat alarmed. I can only hope my warning to Clark was clear enough without disclosing too much information. And since I am stuck here in Belgium, I cannot communicate with either Mr. Kent or Miss Lane at all, either to elicit information from either of them or add to their store of knowledge.
I desperately hope that I have not made a terrible error.
>>>
Detective Mayson Drake paid for her order at the counter, then slipped into the coffee shop’s common area and sat down at the table beside two young officers in civilian garb. One was a short, stocky young Latino man, and the other was a tall but rail-thin black woman. None of the three looked directly at Clark Kent’s apartment building across the street.
Mayson nodded to the two. “Dana, Miguel. How’s it going today?”
Miguel took a sip of his coffee. “I think I’ve gained a few pounds on this detail, Detective.”
She almost smiled. “I’m just Mayson. And you wouldn’t be the first to finish this assignment a little tighter in the waistband than when you started.”
Dana took a bite of her cinnamon roll and sighed. “Speak for yourself. I’ve never eaten better than I am right now.”
“No silver spoon in your mouth?”
Dana grimaced. “We each had our own knife and fork, had to wash it after every meal. Only Mama and Daddy had spoons.”
“I see. Then you are coming up in the world, aren’t you?”
“I don’t have to wash my silverware every time I’m done eating. And when I took my rookie physical, the department doctor told me I could afford to put on another fifteen pounds of muscle.” Dana licked her fingers and sighed. “Still working on it.”
Mayson looked up as the perky young barista placed her coffee and Danish in front of her. “Anything else, ma’am?”
Mayson shook her head. “Okay, then,” the young girl bubbled, “you folks just let me know if I can get you anything. Just ask for Greta.”
“We will, Greta. Thanks.”
Greta bounced away as Mayson turned to the other two. “How about a quick and informal report, guys?”
Dana looked at Miguel and nodded, so he spoke. “Everything seemed normal until five days ago. Big ‘S’ flew off while he still had dinner guests at his place. Two of the three, Pete and Lana Ross, left by the front door where the doorman called a cab. The third guest, Lucy Lane, escorted the Rosses to the front door and returned to the apartment just before Big ‘S’ flew back. After about twelve minutes, the two of them flew off. Ms. Lane has not returned the apartment via the front door since then, and if Big ‘S’ flew her in he did it on the sly.”
Mayson turned to Dana. “Anything to add?”
“Not to an informal report, no.”
“So let’s pretend it’s a little more formal.”
Dana nodded. “Okay. Big ‘S’ has seemed preoccupied since then. We caught a bad wreck two nights ago as we were going off-shift, seven or eight cars in a pileup on the Curt Swan. We assisted the officers who responded to the emergency call. Big ‘S’ got there in plenty of time, but he acted like his mind was somewhere else.”
Mayson frowned. The car wreck and Superman’s assistance at the scene were both common knowledge, printed in the daily papers and mentioned on the local newscasts, but the information about Clark’s attitude was news to her. “Just how distracted was he?”
“Not to the point where anyone was hurt or had medical care delayed, but when he was unpacking the cars, he lifted one and the bumper came off in his hand. It dropped and hit the ground pretty hard, too, although I think it would have been totaled anyway. But he just looked at that bumper for a few seconds like he was surprised. After that he seemed to focus in more and there were no other incidents.”
“Why didn’t I hear about it before now?”
“We didn’t put it in our daily log,” offered Miguel, “because we were just assisting. It wasn’t our precinct and wasn’t our beat. Besides, we were off duty.” He slurped some more coffee. “Ask the regulars who showed up right before we did how come they didn’t write it up.”
“Oh, I will.”
Mayson’s tone seemed to catch the attention of the younger officers. How long, she wondered, had it been since she looked and acted so young?
Miguel’s voice brought her back to the present. “Will there be anything else, Detective?”
Mayson noted that she’d been demoted to her title again. “No. And I didn’t come down here to bust you two for anything. I’m just getting a little nervous in my old age, I guess.”
Dana tilted her head and smiled. “Now, Mayson, you’re not that old. You don’t look a day over forty-two.”
The shot hit home and Mayson’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t know me well enough to kid with me like that, Officer Banquo. You two children just keep your eyes on Kent and keep your mouths shut.” She lurched to her feet, grabbed her coffee and Danish, then shoved the chair with her hip hard enough to rattle the salt-and-pepper shakers sitting against the wall. “And don’t fudge on your next report.”
With that bit of intimidation finished, Mayson turned and stalked out of the Starways shop. There was something going on with Clark Kent, something that she didn’t like, and it had something to do with H. G. Wells being here. The man was sure to cause trouble – she could almost taste it. Mayson didn’t know all the details, and she didn’t have any evidence to back up her feelings, but she could sense something in the air, something that did not bode well for Clark’s well-being. Whatever it was, she’d find it, thwart it, and protect the man who protected the city she loved.
And she’d protect him, too. After all, she loved him even more than she loved the Big Apricot, the City with the Long Reach.
Even if neither of them knew it.
*****
Lex put his office phone down and glanced up at the slight noise his visitor had made. He was mildly surprised to see his wife standing near the door, her body still with what he hoped was controlled tension.
He rose and came around the desk. “My dear, I didn’t know you were coming. I know it’s early in the day, but since you’re here, would you like to have lunch with me?”
She pulled off her sunglasses and lifted red eyes to him. “Lex – it’s Georges. He – he’s done something very bad.”
He stopped with his hands before him. “What has Georges done?”
She snatched his hands out of the air. “I think – I think he’s sent someone after you.”
“Wait – Arianna, I don’t understand what you mean. Who is after me? And what is that person to do to me?”
She squeezed his hands harder. “I don’t know who, darling, but I think I know what Georges intends.”
“And that would be – what?”
She closed her eyes for a moment and took a long breath. When she finished exhaling, she almost whispered, “I think Georges has sent someone to kill you.”
Lex’ mouth opened but nothing came out.
He forced himself to consider the situation objectively. Georges Daquin was his closest competitor in the international trade of cutting-edge technology, not a Mafia chief intent on eliminating a rival. Daquin Industries and LexLabs had simultaneously announced a newer, faster peripheral processor designed to make computer networks move data from one network node to another up to five times faster than units from Bob Fences’ hardware company could perform the same operations. Lex’ upcoming trip to Brussels was supposed to be the first step in creating a joint venture to produce the chips and the controllers they would power. Both companies would make massive amounts of money.
But if Arianna was right, and Georges had Lex killed, the LexLabs chip would not move to the market before Daquin Industries made their chip available. It would cost Lex’ company millions of dollars and do incalculable damage to their reputation. And Georges would surely poach away as many of LexLabs’ top researchers and technical people as he could afford. It would be a crippling economic blow, not just to Lex’ companies but to the entire Eastern seaboard.
By the time Georges became a suspect in Lex’ murder, it might be too late for Interpol or U.S. law enforcement to bring him to trial. Any evidence of such a deed would have been hidden or destroyed as soon as the deed was accomplished.
If Arianna was right—
He came out of calculation mode. “How and when did you learn of this?”
“This morning,” she answered. “Nigel St. John and Asabi both came in about two minutes after you left home. They explained everything to me and told me to tell you what they’d said. They’re going to try to trace the hired killer.”
“Do you know how they plan to trace him?”
She waved one hand aimlessly. “Not all of it. Nigel said something about a visa search for any names he might recognize. Asabi added something about a network of informants he runs. I’d never heard of it before, but he thought he could come up with something by this evening.”
Lex nodded. “Very well. If this is accurate – and neither Asabi nor Nigel frightens easily – then you must leave the city. I want you to—”
“No! I want to stay with you, Lex. I – I don’t think I could go on without you!”
He folded her into his embrace. “My dear Arianna, I love you. I don’t want to be separated from you either. But if you stay with me, you might very easily become an additional target for this killer. Or he might use you to get at me. You know I would never allow you to come to harm. And we cannot allow this person to use that against us.”
She lay her head on his shoulder and wept for a moment, then sniffed hard and straightened up. “You’re quite right, of course, Lex. Don’t worry about me. I’ll go to one of the safe houses out of state. I won’t even tell you which one so no one will be able to learn of it from you.”
He nodded and cupped her face with his hand. “That’s my brave and brilliant Arianna. Who will you take with you?”
“Can you spare Diana and Wendy? I’m comfortable with them, and I know you’ll need both Asabi and Nigel.”
“Of course. Excellent choices, both of them, my dear.”
She smiled through her tears. “You sound as if you’re recommending a fine wine at a restaurant.”
He chuckled. “Perhaps I am complimenting your tactical sense instead. At any rate, you should leave as soon as possible. Are you packed?”
“One suitcase and one overnight bag. Standard getaway protocol.”
“Very good. Did you bring a car or hail a cab?”
Arianna gave him a mock frown. “Please, Lex, I brought the armored Mercedes. Cabs are far too vulnerable.”
He smiled. “You have been listening to my safety lectures, haven’t you? Never mind. Have either Diana or Wendy bring another car to the downstairs garage exit. I’ll have one of my other people drive the Mercedes home. If anyone is watching you now, it might deflect their attention.”
“Of course, darling. And – Lex?”
“Yes, Ari?”
She put her hand on his chest. “I’m so very sorry for arguing with you the other night at the restaurant. Please forgive me – and please be careful.”
He moved closer and kissed her softly on the lips. “Of course I shall do both. Don’t give our disagreement a second thought. You were merely looking out for my interests. I have the best wife any man ever had to come home to.”
Her eyes glittered again. “Ungrammatical, darling, but so very true. And if I were to lose you, I would never marry again. I could not find a better man for me in all the world.”
He kissed her and sighed. “We will have to continue this conversation at a time when neither of us is in immediate danger.” He slipped away from her and pressed a button on his desk.
“Yes, sir?” came the response.
“Please have Diana Tyler and Wendy Montgomery report to my office immediately for a long-term protection assignment. Tell them that they’re taking Mrs. Luthor on an out-of-state trip and they should pack accordingly.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll send them right up.”
He looked up at his wife. “They’ll be here in minutes. I assume you’re armed?”
She patted her purse. “Nine millimeter Beretta and three spare twenty-round magazines. Eighty rounds total. If I need more ammunition than that, you’ll have to read the goodbye message in my last will and testament.”
He blinked. “Yes. Let us hope that neither of us will read the other’s will for many decades to come.”
*****
Lucy was still toweling her hair after her shower when the doorbell rang, so she stuck her head out of the bathroom and yelled at her sister. “Lois? Can you get the door? I’m not dressed yet.”
“Who are you expecting this early?” growled Lois.
“It’s probably my grocery delivery. I sent in the order last night.”
Instead of closing the bathroom door right away, Lucy watched and listened as her sister rose out of her chair and quickly stepped into the guest bedroom. When she finally made her way to the front door, there was something in her hand that Lucy couldn’t see clearly.
The doorbell rang again. Lois stood near the hinges of the door and called out, “Who is it?”
“Grocery delivery, ma’am,” came the masculine reply.
“How much is it?”
“Ms. Lane, you already paid online, just like you usually do. I just need you to sign that you got all the stuff you ordered.”
Lucy watched Lois hesitate, tense up, and yank the front door open with her left hand. Lois peered around the edge of the door, keeping her right hand hidden.
She knew what Lois would see. There was a young man, probably either Freddy or Conner, holding a clipboard and a pen. Beside him would be a rolling upright cart with several boxes stacked on it, each one holding parts of her order.
The young man spoke again. “Here you – oh. I’m sorry. I thought – well, this is the right apartment. Did Ms. Lane move or something?”
Lois seemed to relax a bit, and she put whatever she had in her hand in the waistband of her slacks at the small of her back. “This is Lucy Lane’s apartment. I’m her sister. I’ll sign for the delivery.”
“Uh – yes, ma’am. Here you go.”
Lucy watched Lois move silently away from the door with the clipboard in her left hand. “Do you usually put the stuff away or just leave the boxes?”
“I put the boxes on the counter in the kitchen. Ms. Lane likes to put her own stuff away.”
That was Conner, thought Lucy. He’s very polite and very thorough. Lucy suspected that he had a mild crush on her and was disappointed that Lois had answered the door.
Lois signed the document and handed the clipboard through the doorway again. “In that case, kiddo,” she grunted, “come on in here and do your job.”
Lois backed up as Conner wheeled his cart into the apartment. Lucy noticed that Lois made sure that she was facing the young man the whole time, and that she was at least two steps away from him. Lois also had backed up close enough to the bathroom door for Lucy to see what Lois had put in the waistband of her slacks.
It was a compact semiautomatic pistol.
Lucy felt her face go pale. Why would Lois have a pistol with her? How did she get it past Customs? Or had she bought it here, and if she’d done that, where had she gotten either the money or the identification? Was it an illegal weapon? Why did she look so comfortable holding it?
Lucy silently closed the bathroom door and quickly finished getting dressed. They were supposed to go to the Metropolis Museum of Natural History today, have lunch together, and in general try to get caught up with each other.
She had to know. She had to ask Lois why she was armed and why she was concerned about a grocery delivery.
And Lucy wasn’t sure she really wanted the answers to those questions.
*****
Lois watched the young man lift the boxes one at a time, place them on the kitchen counter, and open the tops. None of them seemed to contain anything but foodstuffs and cleaning products. And other than a couple of curious glances sent her way, the kid kept his eyes on the job he was doing.
Lois knew she was probably being overcautious. This kid almost surely had nothing on his mind except doing his job and getting a tip and a smile from an attractive woman. The tip she could handle, but the smile would have to come from Lucy. Lois didn’t have many smiles left.
He put the last box on the counter and turned to face Lois. “That’s the last one, ma’am. I’ll be on my way now.”
Lois reached into her pants pocket with her left hand and pulled out a small roll of bills. “What’s the usual tip, kid?”
The young man frowned at her, and Lois felt disconcerted. She didn’t know if he was bugged because she’d called him ‘kid’ or because she’d asked him about the tip.
He lifted his hand, palm toward her. “No tip required, ma’am. Just doing my job.”
“And a fine job it is that you’re doing, Conner.”
The bad Irish accent coming from Lucy’s mouth, combined with the fact that she hadn’t noticed Lucy was out of the bathroom, startled Lois. She took a quick step backward and started to reach for her pistol before she forced herself to relax.
This was a grocery delivery, not an ambush, she reminded herself.
Lucy smiled fetchingly and spoke again as if she hadn’t noticed Lois’ reaction. “You can’t get away without my tip, young man. I want to make sure my eggs are whole next time you come.”
Conner blushed as if Lucy had said something vaguely off-color. “Yes, ma’am.” He accepted the ten-dollar bill Lucy handed him and nodded his head awkwardly. “Thank you, Ms. Lane. I appreciate it.”
“Thank you for being so prompt and so conscientious. See you next time?”
He glowed at her like a puppy being petted. “I hope so.” He turned to Lois and his smile went from natural and free to forced and nervous. “Good to meet you, ma’am.”
Lois nodded sharply. “You too.”
Conner turned and walked out the door, pulling it shut behind him. Lucy sauntered over and threw the deadbolt as she asked, “How many times were you going to shoot him?”
Lois stiffened in surprise. “Who said anything about shooting him?”
“Nobody. But you have a gun in the waistband of your pants, and you were moving like you know how to handle it.”
“Owning a firearm is legal this this city and state. I’m not breaking any laws.”
“No, but things have calmed down quite a bit in the last few years. Back when Clark first showed up as Superman, there were people carrying AK-47s and military-grade M16s on the street. I saw vans with M60 machine guns mounted in turrets on the roof and pickup trucks with Gatling guns in the beds. I even saw a bus with a 40-millimeter Bofers anti-aircraft gun at each end. You don’t see that kind of thing very often any more, although lots of folks still carry pistols under their jackets or in their purses.”
“Really? What caliber weapon do you carry?”
“We’re not talking about me, Lois.”
“If you’re gonna bust me for having a gun handy, yes we are. Now what do you have?”
Lucy sighed and looked at the floor. “I have a .327 magnum revolver in my purse and a .223 Ruger Mini14 in the closet. I can’t handle the bigger calibers.”
Lois thought for a moment, then pulled her pistol from behind her. “That .327 isn’t a very big round. You might check into a .40 caliber semiauto with an extended magazine. Holds twelve rounds plus one in the chamber instead of just seven like your revolver and doesn’t kick much more.” She dropped the magazine out, worked the slide to eject the round in the chamber and lock the slide open, then offered it to Lucy. “Want to check mine out?”
Lucy pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I don’t walk around armed in my own home. It makes me wonder why you do.”
Lois thought for a long moment, then she reloaded her pistol while she considered her response. She couldn’t tell her sister that she was in town to kill someone. Nor could she tell her how many times she’d protected herself or her children with that same weapon.
So she make an excuse and hoped Lucy would buy it. “I’ve been gone for quite a while, Punky. I don’t know the city well any more. I had no idea if that delivery guy was really a delivery guy or a rapist looking for his next victim.” The pistol returned to its hiding place. “I want to make sure I live through the next few days and weeks, or at least until I know I won’t need to shoot anybody. If that means having a weapon in the shower with me, that’s what I’m going to do. And if you have a problem with that I need to go somewhere else to sleep.”
Lois tried to put a little bit of fear in the last sentence, as if she were afraid that Lucy might actually tell her to go. And it worked. Her sister’s face clouded up, and she lunged at, then embraced, Lois.
“You’re not going anywhere! You’re staying right here with me as long as you need to!” Lucy sniffed and hiccupped. “I just got you back, Sis, and I’m not letting you go for anything. I love you and I need you around, so you just get used to it! You’re here until you’re ready to move out, not before!”
Despite her training, despite her real employment history, despite the constant threat of betrayal – and sometimes the reality of it – over the past seven years, Lois’ eyes filled with unfamiliar fluid. She forced her eyelids shut and fiercely returned Lucy’s embrace. Being loved and accepted unconditionally was something she thought she’d never experience again, and here it was being handed to her on a silver serving dish.
Then the memory of Rodolfo’s grin as she left on each mission intruded on her mind. The image of him cocking a heavy-caliber revolver and pointing it at her daughter’s head flooded back to her. It was his parting gift to her every time she left Sicily on a mission, his promise to her that her children’s continued survival depended on her carrying out her assignment. He knew that she would challenge Hell itself to protect them.
It was a good thing Rodolfo didn’t know that she’d reconnected with Lucy. Lois didn’t know how to choose between her sister and her children. Usually there was no contest in her mind – her babies came first, above anyone else alive – but the vanishingly rare moments like this gave her cause to think long and hard about it. And thinking about such things could get her killed.
She hoped she’d never have to find out which choice she’d make.
