Clark had to force his hands to relax so he could drive without crushing the steering wheel. It was his fault Mayson had been shot. It was his fault that Lois Lane had almost died.
It was his fault the mission was coming apart before it got started.
He’d blithely accepted Mayson’s assertion that the three people in the van were all cops, and he’d allowed himself to relax. It had been a mistake. One of the three waiting for them hadn’t been a cop at all, or else she’d been compromised or coerced somehow. Or maybe she’d been a dirty cop all along. There were a lot fewer today than when Clark had first started with the department, but there were still enough to give the MPD a bad name among many of the honest citizens of the city. Internal Affairs hadn’t closed their doors, and, in fact, were still investigating only the worst offenders. There were still too many bad apples in the department.
He flicked on his turn signal and waited for oncoming traffic to clear so he could turn left and put more distance between himself and the memory of Mayson’s bleeding body. In a few minutes, once they’d gotten away from downtown, he’d have Lane find the itinerary in the money belt.
He also needed to get his emotions under control.
Lane probably thought he was weeping for Mayson primarily because he cared about her personally. While that was partly true, he was more upset that he’d allowed someone he cared for to be injured while he was right there.
Again.
It was something he’d had to deal with since he’d learned about his “special abilities,” as Mayson often put it.
Just before his junior year in high school, his father had been caught under his tractor when it had overturned in the field where Clark had been repairing the fence. He hadn’t been paying close attention and his father had paid the price for his inattention with damage to his heart that had killed him some sixteen months later, just after Clark’s last football game. His date to his senior prom, Rachel Harris, had been manhandled by two drunken basketball players when she’d asked him to bring her a soda. He’d come back in time to keep her from any real injury, but she’d been shaken up enough to ask him to take her home early, where her father insisted on blaming Clark for the trouble. The basketball players had been dumb enough to jump him next to his car before class the next Monday morning, and it had taken a superhuman effort for Clark not to do any permanent damage to either of them. The incident had damaged the budding relationship with Rachel beyond repair. By the time Rachel had convinced her father, the county sheriff, that Clark had actually kept her from being really hurt and that he hadn’t sought a confrontation with the guilty parties, it was too late for them as a couple.
His mother had known and understood. She’d tried to comfort him on all those occasions where he thought he’d failed, yet his insufficiency continued to eat at him. She assured him that he was expecting too much of himself, and he tried to believe her. It simply never penetrated his mind that he wasn’t perfect, could never be perfect.
And now, because he’d failed yet again, Mayson might die.
He wiped one hand over his face to clear his vision as he turned onto the access road for I-80. If they hadn’t been spotted yet, they probably had some time between now and the state boundary to make a plan.
He turned to say something to Lane and realized that she was holding a folded piece of paper out to him. “I think this is our itinerary,” she said.
He gestured with his head. “Come on up here and we’ll take a look.”
“Umm. Can I change first? This dress isn’t the most comfortable outfit for travel. And we were going to switch clothes anyway.”
He sighed. “Sure. Just stay out of sight as much as you can.”
He heard her drag a suitcase around the bench seat in the middle of the van and flip it open. There was a tiny moment when he was almost tempted to watch her change in the mirror, just to punish himself for being stupid, but he ruthlessly suppressed it. All he needed to do to put a perfect cap on this disastrous day would be to run into the back of another vehicle, get them stuck in traffic, and allow Lois to be killed, all because he couldn’t control his all-too-human lust.
So he was startled when he pulled up to a red light and felt a nudge on his elbow. “Hey, Kent, I can’t unbutton the top of this dress or start the zipper by myself. It’s in exactly the wrong place between my shoulders. Gimme a hand here, will you?”
As he complied with her request, he asked, “How did you put it on this morning?”
“Thanks. I had a maid until I got to City Hall with my lawyer this morning. By now she’s probably on an airliner heading back to Guatemala.” He heard rather than saw her shimmy out of the dress, but it was still oddly stimulating. “Lex loved to hire illegals. They were easier to get rid of in case of problems.”
“You mean, he’d put them on a plane and send them back to their country of origin?”
“Usually. Although I know of two who got buried in unmarked graves.”
He hesitated, then offered, “Your husband is a real prince among men.”
The sound of her jeans being zipped up sounded angrier than her voice. “That’s why I’m going to testify against him. I know where those two graves are and who’s in them, along with a few more. Machiavelli was an angel compared to Lex Luthor.”
“All political power flows from the barrel of a gun,” quoted Clark.
“That’s actually from Chairman Mao. Lex should have put it on a sampler and hung it on the wall of his study. Machiavelli said that a prince must rule by the consent of the governed.”
“Huh. Serves me right for not taking that philosophy class in high school.”
She rose to a kneeling position between the driver’s seat and front passenger’s seat. “Actually, Mao got the idea from Machiavelli, who did say that, generally speaking, the ends justify the means. Lex lived that credo to the hilt.”
“Interesting that you use the phrase ‘to the hilt.’ It refers to an assassin thrusting a dagger or a sword as deeply as possible into the target until the hilt hits the body of the victim. Sounds to me as if you’re going after your – after Luthor with the same degree of determination.”
Her sigh sounded more determined than resigned. “You’ve got it.” Then she chuckled slightly. “Sounds like we both learned something just now.”
“Yeah. Hey, are you cold?”
“Not really. Why do you ask?”
“You’re wearing a pullover sweater. The temperature is in the lower 80s already and it’s not noon yet.”
She met his gaze too directly, as if she were trying to convince him of her sincerity. “It’s a good disguise. I haven’t worn one of these for years. Any recent pictures of me will show me in something tastefully expensive, not a pullover and jeans from Cost Mart. Hey, can you turn the air conditioner fan up another notch? I don’t want to melt in this thing.”
“Sure. Will that do it?”
She nodded. “Perfect.”
He knew she was right, but there was more to it than that. For now, though, he focused on getting them out of the city. Whatever she wasn’t telling him couldn’t be that important.
*****
Lois watched the traffic and the pedestrians they passed, looking for anyone she might recognize or even suspect might wish her harm. Apprehension and shame fought for dominance in her gut as she automatically controlled her expression and the timbre of her voice. After her years with Lex, hiding her true feelings came easy.
Everything but the anger.
Another person who was trying to do right had been hurt, maybe killed. Lois hadn’t liked Mayson Drake, but she had respected the attorney. It took real courage to do the right thing when you knew that so many people were so very willing to kill you for trying to do the right thing.
Lois knew she didn’t have that kind of courage. She’d ignored the subtle signals Lex had sent out during their courtship that his focus was on himself, not on them as a couple, and certainly not on her as a person. She had known, deep down, that he’d wanted her more as arm candy and camouflage for his public image than for who she really was. How could he be a bad person, people would think, if he were dating the upright and fiercely honest investigator Lois Lane? He can’t be all that bad!
By the time they’d returned from their honeymoon in Europe, where Lex had closed several business deals Lois hadn’t known were being negotiated, she’d learned that there were questions she wasn’t supposed to ask, things she wasn’t supposed to know, and places she wasn’t supposed to visit. Of course, she asked questions and went places. Repercussions followed and innocent people got hurt.
The first time she’d tried to investigate him from the inside, he’d taken her aside and “explained” to her how vulnerable her parents and sister were. He’d shown her photos of each of them at work, commuting, shopping for groceries, eating meals – both outside their homes and inside them – and each photo had crosshairs superimposed over the main subject, as if they’d been taken through a rifle’s telescopic sight. There was even one picture of a private moment from their honeymoon where Lois was walking down a street beside Lex, holding his hand and smiling as if he’d just said something amusing.
The crosshairs were focused just above her left eyebrow.
The message was clear. Behave and enjoy the advantages Lex’ money and power gave her. Misbehave and someone she loved would die. Keep pushing and she would die.
Then he’d beaten her. Not out of anger or revenge, but clinically, as if he’d been teaching a remedial math lesson to a class of lazy high school juniors.
She shook the images from her mind. It didn’t matter now anyway, not since the funeral five months ago where she’d made the decision to take Lex down or die trying. She didn’t want her parents to die too, but it was past time to allow this evil man to push her around and continue his criminal reign. Lucy, with her unending questions and sincere but clumsy search for the details of Lex’ criminal empire, had started this ball rolling downhill. Now Lois was determined to remove any impediment to its inexorable path to crush Lex Luthor forever.
She sat back, thinking about her own mental state. If she was building metaphors that complex to keep her going, she was barely holding off panic. Even though she’d told the police and the FBI and everyone who would listen that Lex would stop at nothing to prevent her from testifying, she could tell that no one had realized just how far he cast his webs and how much power he controlled. Even if Lex was being held in solitary in Federal custody, neither Nigel St. John nor Asabi would rest until they found her and either took her back to Lex’ palatial penthouse or killed her, even at the cost of their own lives.
She would never be completely safe. She’d look over her shoulder for her killer for the rest of her life.
*****
Nigel picked up his cell phone during the second ring. “Yes?”
“The ambush at the car swap failed. Our agent shot ADA Drake and the other two cops but was killed before she could pick off Lane.”
Nigel gritted his teeth in frustration. “And what of the police detective with them?”
“Unhurt. They made the car switch and took off.”
“What vehicle are they operating?”
“I don’t know. My informant only knows that there are two dead cops, including our mole, one cop on the critical list in ICU, one seriously wounded assistant District Attorney, and one intact Ford sedan.”
Nigel made a fist with his free hand and almost slammed it down on the desk before he controlled himself. “Do we know where they are going?”
“The Federal courthouse in Wheeling, West Virginia. There’s a team of U.S. Marshals waiting for Mrs. Luthor there.”
“Do we have someone in or close to that team?”
“Negative. We know the team is in Wheeling but we don’t know where they’re holed up. And because that team has been together for several years, we can’t slip a mole in with them.”
After a pause, Nigel asked, “Do we have a location on the detective’s police-issued phone?”
“Not yet, but we know it’s one of the latest LexTel models. As soon as he makes or receives a call, we’ll know where he is within fifty yards.”
“His phone does not have the auto-on feature? Or the GPS tracker?”
“No. According to LexTel’s records, his phone is scheduled to be included in the next upgrade cycle.”
“Very well. Place a team at each of the two most likely approaches to the courthouse in Wheeling and a third overlooking the least likely route. Until we receive more definite information, that is all we can do.”
“Will do. Anything else?”
“Not at this time. Call me as soon as you learn anything which might be important.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nigel thumbed the phone off and leaned back to think.
Mr. Luthor would not look kindly on him if he failed to either capture or eliminate Lois Lane-Luthor. Nigel had never liked the woman, had in fact actively disliked her, and had hoped for orders to permanently remove her from his employer’s life for years. Now that very opportunity had come to him and he had not yet succeeded.
He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that if Mrs. Luthor were able to testify, it would be a close race between the authorities and his employer’s other operatives to locate and neutralize him. He could probably avoid the legal authorities, or he could endeavor to escape Mr. Luthor’s reach, but he was certain that he could not evade both sets of pursuers for long. One or both would find him. And should that eventuality come to pass, his only options would be to either go out in a blaze of glory and take as many of his opponents with him as he could – or he could try to make some kind of deal with the government.
Neither course would afford him the opportunity to live in the luxury to which he had become accustomed. Therefore, neither of those options appealed to him.
His only chance was to take personal charge of the woman’s end.
The thought galvanized him. First, he would send an operative to visit ADA Drake in the hospital and discover the detective’s route to West Virginia. Second, as soon as the pair were located, he would take one of the LuthorCorp private jets to intercept Mrs. Luthor. Third, he would eliminate her single remaining escort and then personally kill Lois Lane in as violent and painful a manner as he could imagine, and as slowly as he could afford.
But he had to act quickly. Wheeling but was one day’s drive from Metropolis, so he didn’t have a great deal of time. Step one had to happen now.
*****
Lois leaned back against the bench seat and exhaled. “We don’t happen to have anything to eat or drink in the van, do we?”
“Unless there’s a cooler in the back where you dropped the luggage, no. And we’re not out of the city yet, so I’m not stopping unless one of us starts floating our back teeth.”
A dry chuckle escaped her lips. “Good point. In that case, how long before we can grab some grub?”
“I’d guess about two hours, give or take fifteen minutes. Depends on the mid-day traffic around the I-80 exit.”
“Okay.” Lois waited for him to say something else, and when he didn’t, she said, “We could turn on the radio. Maybe we can find out how Drake is doing.”
Kent acted as if he hadn’t heard.
Lois walked on her knees to the floor beside the driver’s seat. “Please? I want to – I want to make sure she’s going to be okay.”
Clark glanced at her with a frown on his face, then turned on the van’s AM radio and turned the channel dial. A commercial for shampoo was playing, and when it finished a blurb for a new action movie came on.
“Just what we need,” Clark muttered. “The latest martial arts epic from Arnold Stallone. When will that guy quit making bad chop-sockey movies?”
“Shh! Local news is on.”
The serious music faded out as the news announcer began speaking. “This is Richard Coleman with WMET news. There was a shootout this morning at the South Metro Bank Complex between police and an unknown number of assailants. Two plainclothes police officers were shot to death, one was seriously wounded, and a member of the District Attorney’s staff was also wounded. No names of the victims have been released, and both the wounded officer and the DA staff member were taken to an undisclosed hospital with one or more gunshot wounds. That person’s condition is not known at this time. Metropolis PD Internal Affairs spokesperson Deborah Young said in a prepared statement, ‘The City of Metropolis and the Metropolis Police Department are stunned by this act of violence, but we are also determined to locate and apprehend the person or persons responsible for this outrage. The officers who were shot were all heroes, as is the DA staff member who was wounded. We vow to discover the cause of this shooting and bring the perpetrators to justice.’
“In other news, the trial of billionaire Lex Luthor is still on schedule. Mr. Luthor’s team of attorneys submitted a motion for a continuance in a hearing this morning. Judge Peter D. Wenzel denied the motion and ordered both the prosecution and the defense to be ready to begin the trial on May twelfth, just four weeks from now. Federal prosecutors present at the hearing submitted a motion to have Mr. Luthor transferred to their jurisdiction so Mr. Luthor could be tried first on a number of federal charges. Judge Wenzel took the motion under advisement and promised a ruling before the state trial would begin. He also agreed to review the brief submitted by Mr. Luthor’s attorneys objecting to the transfer of jurisdiction.
“Legal analyst Myra Stonebreaker, of the law firm of Pounder, Smith, Hart, and Stonebreaker, said that Mr. Luthor would not benefit from being tried first in federal court, due to the slightly more lax rules concerning evidence gathering, the presentation of forensic evidence, and harsher sentencing guidelines. If he were found guilty in New Troy state court, according to Ms. Stonebreaker, Mr. Luthor might face a sentence of anything upwards of twenty years imprisonment to life without parole.
“In NBA news, the Knicks worked out a trade with the Los Angeles—”
Clark clicked the radio off and sighed. “Well. Mayson is still alive.”
Lois nodded. “Yeah. That’s a really good thing. For her, I mean.”
“Who else?”
“Well – for you, actually.”
He tensed up again. “She’s a friend of mine. A good friend and a person on the side of the angels, but that’s it.”
“That’s not what she thinks.”
His head jerked around for a moment. “What does that mean?”
She shrugged. “It means that she really likes you. I mean, she really, really likes you. And not just as a friend.”
He flexed his fingers against the steering wheel and ground his teeth before responding. “I know that. We’ve had discussions on the subject.”
“And?”
“And we’ll probably continue to have discussions on the subject when she recovers.”
“And where are you going with her?”
He turned and glared for a moment. “You’re awfully inquisitive for someone in your precarious position.”
She shrugged again. “Hey, it’s not like I have anything better to focus on right now.”
“How about staying alive?”
“That’s your job, remember? Although I don’t know how you’re going to watch over me all the way to Denver all by yourself.”
“Don’t worry about it, Ms. Lane. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay, let’s be fine on I-80. The exit’s coming up fast and you’re in the wrong lane.”
It amused her to see him even slightly flustered, but he slid over to the exit lane with a minimum of fuss and no horns honking at them. She tapped him on the elbow. “Very adroitly done, Kent.”
He pulled the van to the left lane of the exit ramp and pointed them west. “Hey, about that. I really don’t like being addressed by my last name. Would you call me Clark?”
“Only if you call me Lois.”
He nodded. “Done.”
She smiled at him and got a genuine grin in return. Then she said, “Oh, hey, I just thought of something. How about we call each other by our last names if there’s a problem?”
“Hmm. So, if you spot a problem, like one of Luthor’s killers, you’ll yell for Kent?”
“Yes. And if you call me ‘Lane’ instead of ‘Lois’ I’ll know you’re warning me and not just making a suggestion.”
“Deal.”
She settled back on her heels and smiled to herself. Maybe – just maybe – her protector could also be her friend. She hadn’t made any new friends since she’d married Lex, and he’d cut her out of her former social circle. She rarely saw any of her old friends or her family.
Many men would have been angered at her for reminding them about a turn, but Clark hadn’t. He’d seemed chagrined at himself for losing track of his location, but he hadn’t been mad at her. It was a pleasant change.
They rode along for almost fifteen minutes when Clark reached inside his jacket and said, “I’d really like to find out how Mayson is. I think the traffic—”
“Kent!” she shouted.
He stopped moving immediately. “What is it?”
“Is that a LexTel phone?”
“Yes, it’s department-issue—”
“Is it turned on?”
“What? No. Mayson had me—”
“Give it to me now!”
Without hesitating, he handed it to her. She popped the back off and looked closely, then sighed. “Good. This doesn’t have the latest upgrade.”
“I’m supposed to get that upgrade next week, I think. Why, what’s wrong?”
She reassembled the case but didn’t give the phone back to him. “This is something I learned after I turned my research over to the DA’s office. Lex’ phone geeks have developed a drop-in replacement memory chip which expands the phone’s storage capabilities. The press release said that they’re planning to add a camera on the next model, and they wanted to field-test the chip before customers started using the camera and losing pictures.”
“But that’s not what it’s really for, is it?”
“Oh, it’ll perform as advertised, but it also allows the service provider – in this case, LexCom – to remotely turn the phone on and to use the civilian Global Positioning System to locate the phone.”
“Huh,” Clark grunted. “That’s news to me.”
“It’s news to everyone. But even with this model, they can track your incoming and outgoing calls as you’re making them. They’d know exactly where we are. So let’s not turn the phone on, okay?”
“Agreed.” Then a smile slowly spread across Clark’s face. “On second thought, maybe we can use that to our advantage.”
“How? You turn it on, someone calls you, bang, Nigel St. John knows where you are, what direction you going, how fast, and maybe what you had for lunch. How are we going to use that?”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “Just leave that to me, okay? I’ll tell you about it if I think I can pull it off.”
She frowned. “I’m not used to trusting other people. Hasn’t worked out so well for me the last few years.”
“I know. But if the right circumstances pop up, this is a good idea.”
She didn’t answer. No ideas on using the phone to their advantage came to her.
She hoped Clark was smarter than she was.
*****
They cruised down the interstate at the speed limit, piling up the miles as they passed from New Troy to Pennsylvania. Clark heard Lois’ stomach growl daintily, and he said, “We’re coming up on the intersection of I-80 and 81. You want to try to find a drive-through and get some lunch?”
“Why a drive-through?”
“Because you’re still wearing Lois Luthor’s hair color and style.”
“Nuts. I forgot about that.” He heard her rise to her knees again. “Anything is fine, as long as there’s a bathroom there.”
He nodded. “Done and done. What are you in the mood for?”
“I’m not picky, Clark, I just want to relieve the pressure in my lower belly and put some high-calorie nourishment in my mouth. I’m about done with filet mignon and fresh Maine lobster for a long while.”
“Got it. Sign up ahead, says there’s a McDonald’s, a Burger King, and an Arby’s in there somewhere. Anything tickle your fancy?”
“Arby’s, I think. Assuming they still have their Jamocha shakes.”
“They did the last time I was there.”
“Oh? When was that?”
“Just last week. Mayson and I had lunch—”
He went silent, remembering Mayson’s suggestion of another long weekend together and how he rebuffed her as gently as he could. He heard Lois shift beside him and he thought she was about to put her hand on his arm, but she didn’t. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t thinking.”
He shook his head and let out a deep breath. “Don’t worry about it. You had no way of knowing.”
“I’m still sorry.”
“Thank you. But there’s nothing I can do for her right now except finish the last job she gave me.”
Lois nodded. “To get me to Denver.”
“Alive and uninjured, if possible.”
“Oh, by all means, let’s make that possible.”
He pulled off the interstate and drove along the access road until he found a clean truck stop. “We’ll gas up there and you can use the ladies’ room. I’d rather not leave the van unattended, so I’m going to trust you not to do anything dumb, okay?”
She gave him a wide-eyed stare of utter innocence. “Who, me? When was the last time I did something really dumb?”
He returned a look of disdain. “Don’t make me point to your left hand.”
Her left eyebrow rose to Vulcan level. “Very good. Score is fifteen-love, Kent leading Lane and serving.”
“And I have a great backhand, too, so get going.”
She grinned and bounced out of the side door to the entrance. He reached down and opened one of the pockets in the money belt, took out a fifty-dollar bill, and stuffed the belt under the driver’s seat.
He pumped the gas, then walked in and paid the bill, then put the receipt and change in his shirt pocket. No one would even hint that he’d skimmed a dime from this trip.
When he got back to the van, Lois was already in her customary place on the floor. “I didn’t think you wanted anyone to see us together,” she explained.
“Good thinking,” he said. “Nigel’s out-of-state spies are almost certainly looking for a couple, not a pair of singles.”
“That was what I thought, too. So, Arby’s now? I’m almost ravenous.”
“They’d better have Jamocha shakes out here in the Pennsylvania wilderness or be prepared to face the wrath of Lois Lane.”
Her silver laughter touched a chord in his heart and he joined her. It felt good to share a laugh with a woman who didn’t have a personal agenda and wasn’t a part of his pain and loss. He could learn to like Lois Lane very easily.
He’d have to remind himself that liking her wasn’t his job. Keeping her alive to testify was his job.
But liking her might be a nice perk.
