Clark walked beside Lois Lane with Mayson leading the way. On the other side of Lane was the Amerind woman Clark had called Klaatu, and her friends Nikto and Barada filled the hallway behind the group. The only one of them who wasn’t armed with at least one pistol was the witness they were protecting, and none of them besides Mayson knew that Clark could protect them all from anything short of a simultaneous attack from multiple directions with heavy artillery. Lois Luthor – no, she wanted to be called Ms. Galactically Stupid, a term which might have made Clark laugh in a different situation – was as safe as the group could make her.
Clark was determined that this witness arrive at her destination healthy and ready to talk her head off. He’d brushed up against Lex Luthor’s criminal organization a number of times for two years as a Metropolis beat cop, then for almost three years as a detective, along with his own behind-the-scenes extra-curricular activities, and he understood Mayson’s deep, intense desire to put the man in prison. He shared it. He’d seen too many people hurt or killed, too many families shattered, too many dreams crushed by Luthor’s machinations not to feel that way.
Each person in the group kept his or her head moving, checking out anyone and everyone who entered their fields of vision. If the escort had consisted only of Clark and Mayson, most people would still have moved away from Mayson’s laser focus and Clark’s imposing presence. As it was, even the highest-paid defense attorneys wearing their three-thousand-dollar designer suits and hand-made Italian leather shoes hugged the marble walls on either side of the passageway to avoid contact with this intimidating convoy. Nikto and Barada appeared capable of brushing aside a Bradley armored combat vehicle without drawing their weapons, and Klaatu walked with the deserved confidence of a lioness among a herd of antelope.
Under almost any other circumstances, watching the people’s reactions would have been funny.
Mayson turned and led the group down the stairs to the lobby, where she walked to the garage stairs and jerked her head toward the powerful woman behind her. Klaatu drew her weapon and slipped through the door, the pistol held against her trouser leg for concealment. Her two squad mates turned and faced outward, effectively blocking any clear view of the witness or her other escorts.
Lois Lane sighed audibly. “Is all this really necessary?”
Mayson, who was also scanning the hallway, said, “Well, if you prefer, we could just let some wannabe Jack Ruby gun you down before we get you in the vehicle. I’d just as soon that didn’t happen, though.”
“Huh. I didn’t know you cared that much.”
“I don’t.” Mayson turned her glare to the witness for a quick moment. “I just don’t want to have to fill out all those extra forms.”
Lane nodded. “Got it. I’m basically a walking deposition to you, nothing more.”
Mayson paused and glared some more, then resumed her scan of the hallway. “That’s right, a walking, talking deposition with tons of vital information on the most important case of my career. You really don’t matter to me, lady. You’re just a legal document I have to deliver.”
Even though Clark knew Mayson was technically correct, he felt compelled to say something. “Can’t we give Ms. Lane a break? She’s testifying in a trial to put her husband in prison for a long time. That’s got to count for something.”
“Don’t bother, Kent,” grumbled Lane. “She’s determined not to like me. As far as she’s concerned, I’m almost as guilty as Lex is.”
“I’ve had prosecutions like this fall apart before,” fumed Mayson, “because the spousal witness gets cold feet or decides that love is stronger than the law. Until you actually spill your guts on the witness stand, Lane, I won’t trust you as far as I can throw you.”
The stairway door opened before anyone could lower the temperature further. Klaatu leaned into the hallway and said, “Stairs are clear to the bottom, Ms. Drake, and there are no stairs going up from this level. There are two uniformed officers at each landing going down. Their names and shields all match the names and numbers we were told to expect.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
Mayson gestured for the bigger woman to lead the group down the stairs. Clark made sure the witness was between him and the outside wall, as far from the open area as possible. He didn’t think anyone would be foolish enough to shoot at them even in this enclosed space because of the firepower they could direct at any attacker, but that didn’t stop him from checking for bad guys with his vision powers. And ever since he’d switched from leaded glass to clear lenses, he could use all of his vision powers except the heat beams without pulling the frames down on his nose.
Klaatu was right, though. The way to the parking basement was clear.
The group halted just inside the metal doorway to the parking area. Two more uniformed officers holding assault rifles stood at either end of a dark blue late model full-sized Ford sedan. Mayson walked out from behind Klaatu and said, “The road trip is on. Daddy even gave us his credit card.”
The taller officer near the trunk replied, “Just don’t melt it down or Mommy will cry.”
Everyone relaxed just a notch. Lane looked up at Clark and shook her head. “That’s got to be the dumbest recognition sequence I’ve ever heard.”
He grinned back at her and was glad to see her glare soften ever so slightly. “Maybe, but it worked, didn’t it?”
The officer near the car’s hood put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a key ring. “Which of you is the lucky stiff?”
Mayson pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “Tall guy with glasses. Clark, you go get the seat and mirrors adjusted. I’m going to make sure the Princess knows the rules of the road.”
“I’ve ridden in the back seat before, Ms. Drake.”
Mayson’s voice seemed to compete with Lois’ for frigidity. “Not with us you haven’t. Buckle yourself into the middle belt and keep your eyes open, especially while we’re still in the city. Once we’re on the open road, you can ask for a bathroom break whenever you need one, subject to our security okay. That also means that if you visit the ladies’ room I go with you, and before you ask, yes, I’m packing heat too.”
Lois lowered her head slightly. “What about you?”
Mayson frowned. “What about me what?”
“Can you call for a potty break too or do you just reabsorb it?”
Clark looked across the top of the car and saw Mayson’s eyes tighten and her lips pull back in a leopard-like snarl. “Hey!” he called out. “You two need to call a truce right now or I’m going to make sure somebody rides in the trunk with the suitcases.”
Both women turned fiery scowls in his direction, but neither one said anything. Behind them, Clark saw Barada and Nikto exchange wide-eyed glances and with their lips pressed tightly together as if they were trying not to laugh. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the officer at the back of the car step away and fondle his rifle nervously.
At least Mayson and Lois weren’t snapping at each other now.
“Get in,” Clark ordered. “I’m going to West Virginia with or without either of you and at this point I don’t care who stays and who goes. You two want to have a stinky skunk contest, or even a knock-down drag-out fight, fine. I’ll drop you off at a health club with a boxing ring if that’s really what you want. This may not be a friendly trip, but it’s going to be peaceful or I’ll do something about it. Capice?”
No one moved for a long moment, then Lois almost smiled. “Ooh, Italian slang from the handsome boy detective. How about if I promise not to start anything with Ms. Drake?”
“Yeah, how about it, Mayson?” asked Clark. “You two going to play nice together from now on?”
Mayson pulled in a sharp breath through her nose and let it out slowly. “How about we just agree not to poke each other with sharp sticks?”
“Works for me,” he said. “How about you, Ms. Lane?”
Lois nodded slowly and opened the sedan’s back door. “Sounds just peachy to me. Why don’t we get this little road trip started?”
Something in Clark’s mind tickled his memory. Some association with the witness – a name, a place, her appearance, her attitude – tried to push itself forward into his conscious mind, but failed to migrate from his archive storage memory to his current awareness. He’d keep thinking about it, though – maybe if he left it alone it would suddenly appear in his brain like a neon sign at a bar.
He hoped it wasn’t something that might get someone hurt before he recalled it.
*****
Lois buckled herself in the back seat as Kent and Drake slid into opposite sides of the front bench seat. Drake turned her head toward Kent and started to open her mouth, then apparently changed her mind and yanked her shoulder harness across her body with great vigor. Kent sighed quietly and buckled his belt, made one final adjustment of the steering wheel, then gently started the car. Lois watched as neither of them spoke or even looked at each other.
There was trouble in their corner of paradise, that much was certain.
Kent pulled away from the curb with a smoothness Lois had seldom felt except with professional limo drivers. She wondered if the icy blonde beside him in the front seat understood how good her boyfriend was behind the wheel. Lois had to admit that they made a cute couple, or would if she weren’t with them as a third wheel antagonizing both of them.
Except that the relationship felt unbalanced to Lois. Drake’s harsh words and sharp actions had seemed directed at Kent as much as they had been aimed at Lois, and the only thing that would cause that was a significant degree of insecurity on Drake’s part concerning his steadfastness. She wondered if Kent made a habit of ogling women prisoners or just playing with Drake’s heart.
Only he didn’t come across to Lois as a guy who would do those kinds of things. His frustration with both women had felt sincere and even-handed, as if his goal really was to have a smooth and safe trip. Not once had he treated Drake with anything other than professional respect until Lois had provoked her in the parking garage. He hadn’t touched Lois inappropriately or stared at her like a piece of meat or undressed her with his eyes – at least, not that Lois had noticed – and he appeared to be focused on his job and not its perks. Maybe he really was the Boy Scout Drake obviously thought he was.
Mayson Drake, on the other hand, was transparent as glass. Lois knew, from her intelligence-gathering on Lex’ organization, that Drake’s father had been involved in a couple of shady deals where money had changed hands back during the underground war with Intergang. Lex had shown his true colors then, running the defense of his empire against the invaders as if it had been the Normandy invasion in World War II. She smiled to herself as she considered that if Lex had been in overall command of the German armed forces on that day, that war would probably have had a completely different outcome. Of course, she mused, that probably wouldn’t have been a good thing.
Drake’s father, an honest cop who couldn’t withstand Lex’ threats against his wife and daughter, had let Lex’ pet MI6 assassin skate on two different occasions by suppressing evidence which would have entangled him in the murders of five Intergang crime bosses. The daughter had never learned about it, of course, but the mother had, and the marriage hadn’t withstood the strain. Mayson had tried unsuccessfully to hold them together, and she naturally blamed herself for contributing to the breakup. Maybe Lois could use that against her if—
No. That was Lex-type planning and tactics. She’s never done it before and she refused to succumb to the temptation now. Lois didn’t like Mayson Drake, but she understood the other woman’s motivations and knew that she was less involved in the corruption swirling around and through the DA’s office than anyone else there. Drake would be terse and unfriendly, but she would play it straight with Lois and do her job. And while Lois’ last name might be Luthor for now, she deliberately refused to live down to her estranged husband’s reputation.
Drake was plain and clear to Lois. Kent, though, was something of a mystery. Lois couldn’t recall more than a couple of mentions of his name, and both times she thought she remembered notations that he wasn’t for sale at any price. Until he was promoted from detective, though, he wouldn’t be a target for a bribe or even a quid-pro-quo arrangement. So she thought she could trust him, but she couldn’t be sure. There was no history on him, no handle she could grip to manipulate him. He might die to keep her alive, he might hand her over to Nigel or Asabi, or he might put several bullets in her brain while she slept. Her gut said he was honest, but her gut had misled her before.
Of course, there was also no real option for Lois. She was stuck with these two sort-of almost-but-not-quite lovers for the duration of the trip. And Lois hated not being in control.
*****
Clark decided that enough silent time had passed. “Mayson, is there a specific route you want me to take or should I just get on I-78 as soon as possible?”
Without looking at him, she answered, “Neither. Make your way to the Downtown South Bank Plaza and drive into the garage. As soon as we’re stopped, pop the trunk and we all bail out.”
“What? Why?”
“We’re switching vehicles. There’s an outside chance that whoever might be hunting us has spotted this car, so we’re moving to a white Ford E150 van with red trim. It’s got dual fuel tanks, more range, and more room inside, so if we have to, either you or I can drive through the night while the other sleeps.”
From the back seat, Lois said, “That’s a lot of prep work for a one-day trip to West Virginia.”
“It would be if that’s where we were going.”
Mayson’s announcement silenced the other two occupants for a long moment, then Lois groaned. “I don’t suppose you can tell me where I’m really going, can you?”
“I can now. We’re heading west to Denver.”
Lois snorted. Clark stopped at a red light and said, “You mean Denver like in Colorado?”
Mayson finally made eye contact with him. “Yes. That’s why we’re taking so many changes of clothing, why I have a money belt under my blazer with four thousand dollars in fifties and twenties, and why we’re switching to the van and changing clothes when we get started again. Oh, Ms. Lane, we’re going to dye your hair dark as soon as we stop for the night.”
“Uh-huh. And where will that be?”
“Our itinerary is in one of the money belt pockets. Clark, I’ll give it to you when we get going again.”
“I assume you’re going to dye your lovely blonde locks also, Ms. Drake?”
Mayson glanced at Lois, then turned to face forward again. “Yes. It’ll be one big mixed-gender slumber party.”
Lois didn’t say anything else. Clark gritted his teeth for a moment, then growled, “Why did you keep me in the dark?”
Mayson didn’t look at him. “I’m sorry. My boss gave me strict orders not to tell you until we were under way. He wanted to make sure this wasn’t leaked.”
“What if there’s a leak in the DA’s office?”
“Jim Dixon is as honest as the day is long. If there was a leak in his office he’d plug it himself.”
Clark glanced into the rear-view mirror and turned on his blinker. “We’re coming up on the transfer point. I assume you want me to use the Powell street entrance.”
“That’s fine.”
“How many cops know about this change of plans?”
“None. There’s only one investigator from my office with the van, and he was told it was for a minimum security prisoner transport to the courthouse. He’s probably wondering why no one has shown up to take the van.”
“Won’t it look odd if this car drives in and doesn’t leave? Especially if someone really is watching for us?”
“There are three officers in plain clothes sitting in the van. They’ll take the car out before we leave the garage. And that’s all they know about this little escapade today.”
“Ahem.” Lois cleared her throat. “I know you people think this will throw off anyone following us, but this is starting to sound a little too complicated. You’ve got a whole bunch of moving parts here, and either Nigel St. John or Asabi could figure out what you’re trying to do with just one or two tidbits of information. There’s a whole lot that could go wrong with this plan.”
“You’re saying this won’t work?”
“No, Ms. Drake, I’m not saying that. I am saying that you shouldn’t break your arm patting yourself on the back until we get to the Federal courthouse in Denver. Lex is still in competition with Intergang, so they’re not likely to take a run at us, but there are others between here and Colorado who’d love to have Lex owe them a huge solid.”
Mayson looked back over the seat again. “You’d better hope we’re smarter than they are or you might end up dead.”
“It’s possible,” Lois agreed. “It’s also possible that these hopefully hypothetical button men will kill you and Mr. Handsome here and try to take me alive. I’m more valuable to Lex’ rivals if I’m breathing than if I’m not.”
“I’m sure Mayson has thought about that, Ms. Lane,” Clark said.
“Don’t listen to this back-seat Cassandra, Clark.” Mayson gently put her hand on his upper arm and softened her voice. “This will work. You’ll see.”
“Well, we’ll know in a few minutes. There’s the bank.”
*****
Lois didn’t like this plan one bit, partly because she hadn’t been consulted on it, but mostly because it sounded like the plot of a Keystone Kops silent short film. There was too little security and too few people in the command structure knew what was going on, not to mention the three cops in the van who probably had no idea why there were where they were or what they were about to do. But all it took was a word or two in the proper ear, and they’d be driving into a crapstorm of epic proportions.
The car slipped into the open garage door and glided to a stop behind the only van facing the same direction they were. At least it matched Drake’s description.
Kent hit the trunk release lever, then put the car in park without turning off the key and opened his door. Lois was already sliding toward his side of the car and didn’t stop as he opened the door and lifted her out.
She knew he was a big guy with a light touch at the wheel, but he also never stopped scanning the area for anyone or anything unexpected. And she was impressed with his controlled strength as he effortlessly pulled her to her feet.
As Drake stepped out of her side of the car, the rear door of the van swung open and three people jumped out. Two were women, one wearing a Lois-colored wig and the other a Mayson-colored wig, and a man sporting glasses that he obviously didn’t normally have on, all wearing civilian clothes, glanced at them. Then one woman and the man stepped toward the sedan as Clark looked toward the entrance they’d used. The blonde-wigged woman stopped behind them and reached toward her waist—
Lois knew what would happen before it happened.
And then, before she could take a breath or call a warning, it happened.
The woman wearing the blonde wig snatched her weapon from its holster and skipped one step to the passenger side of the vehicles. Drake was already moving toward the trunk and didn’t see the action, so she took the first bullet high in the back and fell face-down on the concrete.
The second woman spun and reached for her weapon but didn’t make it. She took the next bullet in the chest.
Lois didn’t see what happened next because Kent knocked her down and dragged her behind the car faster than most people could run. Two more shots rang out almost as one as Kent pulled his own weapon from under his jacket. He pushed Lois down flat on the ground, jerked his head from one side to the other, then leaped to his feet and ran to Drake’s side of the car.
By the time Lois got to him, he had already pulled off her blazer and was applying a pressure bandage to Drake’s wound. His weapon was back in his holster, but his hand shot to his armpit when a door behind him slapped open.
Kent spun to see another man in a suit who was pointing a weapon at him. “Put down the gun!” the man screamed. “Put it down and get away from her!”
“My name is Clark Kent,” he said clearly. “I’m a detective with MPD. You put your weapon down.”
Lois felt a fluttering grip on her wrist and looked down. Drake, lying on her stomach under Kent’s ministrations, was still conscious and trying to speak, so Lois leaned down to listen.
“Detective Kent! Drake says this guy is Dennis Franklin. He’s the investigator she told us about.”
The man seemed to relax slightly. “You know who I am?”
“She does. This is ADA Mayson Drake. This guy is a cop, like he says he is.”
Franklin hesitated, then holstered his weapon and raised his hands. “What happened? Can anyone tell me what’s going on here? This is like the freaking OK Corral!”
Kent released his grip on his weapon and pivoted on one heel, keeping his hand against Mayson’s wound. “Mayson and I were supposed to escort this woman to a safe house in that van. The woman in the blonde wig shot Mayson and the other woman from the van, then she and the man shot each other. I think the man might still be alive, but I know Mayson is. Either way, we need an ambulance here right now.”
Franklin nodded and pulled out a cell phone. As he called for emergency help, Drake grabbed Lois’ hand again and croaked, “Clark? Talk to – Clark.”
Lois slapped Kent on the leg. “Hey, she wants to tell you something.”
Kent knelt down beside her and grasped her hand. “It’s okay, Mayson, the ambulance will be here soon. You’re going to be fine.” He brushed her hair back from her face and took a shuddering breath. “You – you’ll be fine. I promise.”
Drake lifted her head closer to Kent and said, “Get her – to Denver. Got to. Get her there. Important.”
“I’m not leaving you, Mayson.”
The wounded woman’s eyes flashed. “Go! More – important than – just me. Take – the money – and luggage. Go.”
“I – I can’t leave you like this! Don’t ask me to go!”
Drake’s head fell forward into Kent’s cushioning hand and her eyes drifted shut. He looked at Lois with the most helpless expression she’d ever seen on a man.
Lois took a deep breath and made a decision. “Look, Kent, I know you care for her, but if I don’t get where I’m supposed to go, I might die. And if that happens, lots of other people will die, too, and Lex Luthor will walk on most of the things he’s guilty of. I know that sounds selfish and heartless but it’s the truth. I’m your best bet to put away the man who’s responsible for her getting shot.” She lifted her head as she heard a siren in the distance. “We need to go now.”
“No! I’m not leaving her!”
Before Lois could speak again, Drake growled, “Clark. Go. Keep her – safe. Do what – you do – best.” She paused and took two labored breaths. “It’s okay. I’ll – I’ll be fine. Go now – while you can.”
He looked at the woman bleeding on the ground and blinked. Lois was startled to see a tear in each eye. Maybe he cared for Drake more than Lois had thought.
He looked up at Lois and his face hardened. “Get all the luggage and put it in the back of the van. I’m keeping you safe.”
Lois let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. “Thanks. I know this is hard but it’s the right thing to do.”
He glared at her. “Don’t make me regret this decision.”
He turned and waved to Franklin to join him before she could answer, so she stepped to the trunk and gathered three suitcases. As she stepped past the body of the man who’d been shot, she saw that he was still breathing. The woman with the blonde wig wasn’t, not with that hole in her forehead and her brains blown out of the back of her head.
Lois also saw a semi-automatic pistol on the ground.
She glanced up to hear Kent lecturing Franklin about keeping pressure on the wound, so she tossed the luggage into the van, then stooped and scooped up the pistol and slid it under one of the suitcases. She threw the doors shut and walked to the passenger side of the van, past the second woman’s body.
The bullet had taken her in the middle of the chest. There was a puddle of blood spreading under the sedan’s front bumper and she wasn’t breathing.
The ambush had almost worked. Lois wondered who had set it up – Asabi or Nigel or some independent contractor – then decided it didn’t matter. They had to leave now.
Kent took a ring of keys from Franklin and turned back to Drake. He bent down and gently removed the money belt from Drake’s waist, then brushed her face with his fingers. She reached up and grasped his hand for a moment, then pushed his hand away and said something Lois didn’t catch.
Kent turned and stalked to the side door of the van and opened it. “Get in here,” he ordered.
They were leaving, so Lois didn’t argue. She climbed in and sat on the bench seat, but Kent followed her in and pointed at the floor. “Get down out of sight. It’s safer for both of us.”
She slid to the floor as he slammed the door shut. He stepped around the front of the van and slid into the driver’s seat, started the van and yanked it into gear.
As they exited the far side of the garage, Lois asked, “Hey, where was the other guy while all that shooting was happening?”
“You mean Dennis Franklin, the guy who walked in after the shooting stopped?”
“Yeah, him.”
Kent snorted. “He had to pee.”
It sounded so much like a joke that Lois almost laughed. “Wait – he what?”
“He said he just started taking antibiotics for a urinary tract infection and his bladder fills up about every forty minutes. He thought he had enough time to run to the men’s room and get back before we pulled in, but we were a couple of minutes early.”
“Huh. I guess his full bladder saved his life.”
“Yeah, that’s a first.”
Lois didn’t say anything else for a moment, then quietly said, “Thanks for saving me back there.”
“It’s my job.”
“I know. But – thanks anyway.”
She thought he wasn’t going to answer, but after a moment he surprised her. “You’re welcome. I just—”
When he didn’t finish the sentence, Lois gently asked, “You just what?”
“I – I just hope you can do what Mayson hopes you can do.”
That wasn’t what he’d almost said, but Lois let it go. “If you mean can I put Lex Luthor away for as many lives as he has left, the answer is yes, I can, assuming I get where I’m supposed to be.”
He made a turn and accelerated again, then said, “I promise that I’ll get you there. You – you’d better deliver on your promise.”
Lois didn’t say anything else. She hoped she’d live long enough to testify. After that, she had no plans, no dreams, no illusions about her future.
She didn’t think she had any future worth a single illusion.
