Lois looked at the bottle of hair dye and grimaced. Clark didn’t know, of course, but the only reason her hair was ash-blonde was because Lex liked it that way. She’d acquiesced to the color change simply because it was easier than arguing about it with him.
Her hairdresser had finally allowed Lois to convince her that a surface touch-up dye was better than a deep dye because it wasn’t as damaging to Lois’ hair. At least, that was the reason Lois gave her. So it was as much a matter of scrubbing out the surface color and letting her natural brunette tones shine through than it was covering one dye with another. Mixing dyes probably wouldn’t have worked very well, and might have made her head shine with a day-glow orange hue or something even worse. Mayson Drake wouldn’t have liked sharing anything feminine with Lois, but she would have understood.
As she stepped out of the shower and began toweling her hair, she heard what sounded like Clark flipping channels on the TV in the main room. Probably looking for any morsel of news about the Drake woman, thought Lois. Too bad he was so hung up on her.
It would be nice to be with a man whose reason for being with her was something other than arm candy. Or being shown off as his latest and greatest conquest.
She flicked the thought aside. There was no way someone as upright and honest and righteous as Clark would even want to be anywhere near her if he didn’t have to be. He’d by far rather be sitting beside Drake’s bed right now, holding her hand and telling her how much he really cared for her and that she had to live for him.
No man had ever loved her like that.
She thrust that image aside also. No one would ever love her like that. She was damaged goods now – not because she’d been married, but because of the man she’d married. How many honest men would ever trust her now?
None. Zip. Zilch. Zero. Nada. No one, no way, not ever.
Her hand lifted the edge of the towel to dry her eyes. When she looked into the mirror, she was pleased to see her normal brunette locks framing her face. Her hair was a little long for her taste, down below her shoulders and wavy from the middle to the ends, but overall it was another small step down the path to reclaim her life. Throw it into a ponytail and she’d look years younger.
She wouldn’t be any younger, though.
Bitterness filled her mouth. She’d flushed half a decade of her life down the drain living with an amoral sociopath, allowing him to use her for his own ends. She’d already given up too much of herself to him over the years. She would surrender no more.
She would testify or die. Maybe both. But she would die content if Luthor were facing justice.
She picked up another towel and rubbed down her body, then wrapped her hair in a third towel. She’d picked the best ones she could find, but all of them had frayed edges and thin spots and two of them were already slightly damp. Boy, would she ever give this place a negative review at her next cocktail party.
Her lips refused to twitch. That didn’t sound at all funny, even to herself.
*****
From the end of the bed in front of the TV, Clark turned his head when Lois opened the bathroom door. She was barefoot and wearing what appeared to be the same jeans but a different shirt. Even with her hair done up in the towel and piled on the back of her head, she looked enticing.
He shook himself and forced his attention back to the TV. He’d never reacted to any woman like this before. It was as if he’d imprinted on her the moment he’d seen her through the interrogation room one-way mirror. But there was no way he could know her well enough to care for her that deeply.
Yet he did – at least, he felt something for her that was very strong. And unless he controlled himself, she’d betray him. Or he’d betray himself. Or, perhaps, he’d allow himself to be distracted at the wrong time and she’d die because of it.
Best for everyone involved that he keep an emotional distance from her. Which was going to be difficult. If Mayson had made the trip, she could have been a buffer between Clark and his independent, rebellious emotions.
As it was, though, she wouldn’t have to knock down his emotional barriers. He’d take care of that himself.
“How’s your hair look?” he asked without facing her.
“Good, I think. It’s close to its original color. Now it just looks like I’m a little prematurely gray up near the roots.”
“Even better. That darkish-blonde shade is too easy to spot from a distance.” He flipped the channel again and found a news report. “Got something.”
She slipped into a chair without speaking. It was one of Luthor News Network’s competitors. The title under the man’s upper body placed him in Metropolis.
“—assistant District Attorney Mayson Drake of Metropolis is still listed in critical condition. Doctor Joseph McConnell of Metro Emergency Surgery hospital said that the surgery to remove the bullet and repair the damage it caused went as well as could be expected, but that unspecified complications had quickly set in. Ms. Drake is one of two known survivors of the shooting this morning at the Metropolis South Bank Plaza. Police still have not released any information about the incident which left two plainclothes officers dead and one badly wounded. We still don’t know the identities of the officers, nor do we know why there were there at the plaza. Police spokesperson Marcia Jones has scheduled a press conference on Wednesday, two days from now, at ten-thirty in the morning, where we hope to learn more. Reporting live from Metropolis for LNN, this is Denny Lawson.”
Clark muted the TV before the network switched back to the attractive Oriental woman behind the desk. His hand fell to the floor and his eyes slammed shut. “I should have stayed with her,” he muttered.
“Then I’d probably be dead with a bullet or two in my skull, waiting for room inside a concrete piling in Hob’s Bay. And I wouldn’t be able to testify against Lex.”
“The bullets would take care of that,” he said.
“Yeah.” She pursed her lips together, then seemed to gather her strength. “But if Lex kills me but you have my body, you can still get the data files.”
“Why, do you have them tattooed on your stomach?”
“Close.”
Close? Close to what? What was ‘close’ supposed to mean?
He opened his eyes and turned to face her. “I don’t suppose you’d explain that remark to me? Just in the interest of passing the time, of course.”
She didn’t smile back. “I have a tattoo that gives the location of the data files I created. It’s on – on my right cheek.”
His gaze flicked to her face just below her right eye and he was almost sure she blushed a little. “Not that cheek.”
He tried not to laugh but couldn’t help it. “Lady, you are just full of surprises. When were you going to reveal that little tidbit to us?”
“I was going to – to tell ADA Drake. Tonight. After you went to sleep.”
“I see. But because she’s not here—”
“I’m telling you.”
He nodded. “I presume you’re not going to show it to me? Just so I’ll know where to look for the files should something untoward happens to you?”
Her face seemed to harden. “You wouldn’t understand it unless you had a Master’s degree in math. The IP address, directory structure, and password to the file folder are all hidden in the fractal pattern of the tattoo. You’d have to know how to decode the relationships among the angles to know what it really says. Even I don’t completely understand the mechanics of how it works. It took me about eight months of secret studying and trial and error to come up with that design, and then I had to convince Lex that it was the world’s most complex snowflake and that it represented his and my relationship.”
“I suppose he has a matching one on his left – cheek?”
“Similar but not matching. You could analyze that one from now till Doomsday and all you’d get would be a musical booby trap and the GPS coordinates of our honeymoon cottage.”
A snort of laughter burst out before he could stop it. “So when you told us this morning that Luthor letting you know about his criminal activities would come back and bite him in the butt, you were—”
“Yes, I was being literal.”
Despite his earlier decision not to let himself get close to her, he smiled and nodded in approval. “Sounds to me like you’re smarter than all of us put together.”
Her voice hardened to match her expression. “I’ve had to be. Dumb people don’t finish last around Lex Luthor. They finish early and then they get buried.”
That sounded almost personal to Clark. He started to ask her what she meant, but before he could say anything she was rooting around in her suitcase. “And if I was really smart,” she growled, “I wouldn’t be running for my life from the worst criminal since Al Capone.”
After a moment, she pulled out what looked like fuzzy pajamas and stalked back into the bathroom.
He told himself not to bring the subject up again. Best to keep his distance.
*****
“This is not acceptable, Ms. Ames. We require information from the patient and we must have it now.”
“And I’m telling you that I can’t get it! You don’t understand how tight the security is around that woman! They’ve got cops and armed private security poking around everywhere and extra cameras in the halls and maybe DNA scanners next! I don’t think I could even get back in the building now!”
Nigel frowned and sighed. “What of the woman for whom you substituted yourself?”
“If they haven’t found her already, she should be waking up about now, and then they’ll really lock down the place. The only thing I could have done that would have been dumber would have been to kill her. Maybe now I’ll just get lost in the wash of all that’s going on.”
“Did you attempt to speak with the other survivor?”
“You know, you got a stubborn streak a mile wide, mister. Don’t you ever change the subject?”
“Not unless there is an actual need to do so. Have you spoken with him?”
“No. He’s still in intensive care. I couldn’t even get close enough to check his chart.” Cathy paused, then continued. “I don’t know what anthill you kicked over, Mr. St. John, but it’s not worth it to me to poke my nose into it. Not at the hospital, anyway. I’m going to ground until the heat’s off.”
Nigel almost responded with a threat, but he knew that he couldn’t afford to push her away at such a crucial time. He needed every operative he could put in the field to track Mrs. Luthor, and there was no telling which one might give him the clue he needed.
“Very well. I ask only that you contact me should you learn anything you believe I would want to know.”
“Don’t worry, I will. Wups, here comes my ride. Later, gator.”
The connection clicked off at her end, leaving Nigel with a handful of unresponsive telephone and a budding ulcer that could dissolve the steel surrounding any bank vault in minutes. Every moment his employer’s wife remained out of his possession, the more dangerous she became.
Where was that blasted woman?
*****
Lois walked out of the bathroom wearing her cotton fleece pajamas and looked at Clark. He’d built himself a pallet on the floor at the foot of the bed and cleaned up the room so that it was nicer than when they’d first entered. He’d changed into loose exercise shorts and a T-shirt that didn’t hide his musculature at all.
She’d known he had a good build, but she hadn’t realized just how good it was until that moment. No wonder Drake was all breathless and starry-eyed over him.
Then it hit her. He’d cleaned the room, set up his sleeping area, changed clothes, and remade the bed for her while all she’d done was change into pajamas. The guy must have some kind of lightning reflexes to go along with a functional brain and a body by Hercules.
Just to keep from hyperventilating, she glanced out the window and remembered something she’d meant to ask earlier that evening. “Clark?”
“Yes?”
“Why are we on the first floor? Isn’t that more vulnerable than a room on a higher floor?”
He shrugged. “It’s a tradeoff. Higher floors are a bit safer from break-ins, but I wanted to be close to the van, and I didn’t think you’d want to jump three stories down if we did have to get out quick. Besides, this was the room the clerk gave us, and I didn’t want to make us any more memorable than we already are for paying cash. And it’ll be easier to get away in the morning.”
She nodded back. “Makes sense. Well, I guess it’s time to hit the hay, as they say in Kansas.”
He gave her a half-grin. “Good idea. We’ll be up with the chickens in the morning, so I will bid you good night.”
She reached over and turned off the overhead light, leaving just the bedside lamp on. He looked even better in partial shadow, with intimations of power and strength warring with a hint of danger resting on his cheekbones.
Whoa, girl, that was already too much of that.
Lois moved to the bed and slid under the covers, and she was startled for a moment that they weren’t ultra-high count Egyptian cotton. This felt more like Cost Mart Bargain Days quality, and it reminded her that she wasn’t in Metropolis anymore.
She reached out to the cheap alarm clock beside the bed, then paused. “Clark?”
“Yes, Lois?” came the muffled reply.
“What time do chickens get up?”
“Around four-thirty.”
Her eyes popped open. “In the morning?”
“That’s right. Early start, remember?”
“What I remember is that I’m not a chicken.”
His head rose above the foot of the bed. “No, you’re not. You’re a material witness in the biggest corruption and racketeering investigation Metropolis has ever seen and there are people out to kill you. The quicker we get you to Denver the safer you’ll be.”
She gave him a blank stare for a moment, then nodded. “Four-thirty it is.”
Her hand pressed the ‘set alarm time’ button just as Clark said, “Go ahead and make it five-thirty. Chickens got to sleep too, you know?”
A grin tried to bloom on her lips. “Five-thirty it is. Just make sure the maid has laid out my ensemble for tomorrow.”
She thought that he would have bowed had he been able to do so from that position. “As you wish, my lady.” He lay down again and sighed, then said, “Good night, Lois.”
“Good night, Clark.”
She finished setting the alarm, then turned off the table lamp beside the bed. If only Clark Kent had been around when Lex Luthor was pursuing her. Maybe she wouldn’t have made her life into a disaster.
And Lucy would still be alive.
Lois would have bet real money that she’d lie awake for hours with her mind running in place at top speed, but instead she slipped into a peaceful, dreamless slumber.
*****
Cathy Ames was scared. She knew, without knowing the whole story, that Nigel St. John was desperate to find Lois Luthor. Nothing flustered that unflappable killer Brit, whether he was pointing the weapon at his victim or having it held on him. Cathy had seen him one night after a meet where four gang punks had tried to take his wallet.
Two of them had survived to learn from their error. Nigel hadn’t mussed his hair.
Yet Lois Luthor was pushing him to the edge of his endurance without being anywhere in the city, at least as far as Cathy knew. She and that hunky detective had vanished after the shooting at the bank plaza, and none of Cathy’s informants could – or just refused to – tell her anything about the pair. They could be almost anywhere within a five-hundred mile radius by now. For all that anyone could or would tell her, they could have driven into Canada and were working their way west.
The only thing Cathy knew for sure was that the Luthors had gotten complementary tattoos on their rear ends about eight months earlier, just before that business with the sister-in-law had gone down. Once again she was glad to have had those lunch dates with Mrs. Luthor’s personal maid.
Funny, thought Cathy, Mrs. Luthor had never seemed to be the tattoo type. And Mr. Luthor definitely wasn’t.
So why did they get them?
The one piece of data Cathy had uncovered was the name of the artist who’d applied the ink to their rear ends. She’d tried to tell St. John when Mr. Luthor had been arrested, but he’d ignored her and told her to learn something important. And Cathy had agreed that it wasn’t all that important, at least to Nigel’s face.
Now, however, that name was the only thread left that she could pull. And she could do it without exposing herself to danger. All she had to do was put on her fat clothes over some body padding, grab her best wig, and go see Ben “The Inkster” Tremont. She even knew that Tremont was the name he’d adopted after a stretch in the Florida state pen for embezzlement, and if she had to she’d use that piece of leverage against him.
Tattoo shops usually opened late in the morning and stayed open until at least ten o’clock, sometimes past midnight, but Cathy didn’t want to brace him at the end of the day when Tremont was tired and not thinking clearly, or had customers in the store. Right before lunch was a better time, before the junkies and tweakers got up, and after the morning rush of power suits and bottled hair color finished pretending that they were tough enough to get a tat without any anesthesia. Cathy had seen such men and women cry at simple marks on their shoulders, while the hardcore body art aficionados, both male and female, would strip naked and let Tremont ink an intricate multi-hued dragon on their private parts without blinking.
It took all kinds, she told herself.
*****
Bzz-bzz-bzz-bzz-bzz—
Ugh, thought Lois, there’s a bee in the room. How could a bee get past Lex’s security?
Bzz-bzz-bzz-bzz-bzz—
It’s a pretty angry bee, too.
Bzz-bzz-bzz-bzz-bzz—
The tap on her shoulder yanked her out from under the pillow. “Where’s th’ bee?”
Bzz-bzz-bzz-bzz-bzz—
A man chuckled. “Not a bee, I’m afraid. Come on, it’s time to get going.”
She tried to open her eyes but that stupid bee kept buzzing beside her head. Bzz-bzz-bzz-bzz-bzz—
“Kill it!” she grunted. “Kill the bee! Lemme sleep!” She fell back onto the bed and pulled the covers up to her neck.
Bzz-bzz-bzz—
The click of a switch and the sudden silence got her attention. Then the man she’d heard before said, “Come on, up with the chickens, remember? We need to get on the road.”
She blinked a couple of times and tried to remember. Road? Chickens? What did—
She shot up to a sitting position and gasped. “Clark!” she barked. “What – what time izzit?”
“Five thirty-three.”
Her eyes found him, a tall and wide blur outlined by light spilling from around the bathroom door. “In the morning?”
Either he put his fists on his hips or suddenly sprouted extra arms. He chuckled again. “Yes, in the morning. We can grab some coffee and donuts from a convenience store down the street, or we can go to the takeout window at McDonald’s. Your choice.”
She ran a hand through the rat’s nest on her head. “My choice?” she mumbled.
“Yes.”
“I choose sleep.”
“Okay. We can just wait here for your husband’s goons to find us and shoot us full of holes, if that’s what you—”
She shot upright again. “Shoot us? No! Wait – I remember now. We – have to go to Denver.”
“Not bad for a second try. I’m guessing you’re not a morning person.”
She pulled her knees up close and rested her elbows on them. “Never had to be while I was married to – while I was married. He even arranged for me to have special work hours at LNN so I could come and go as I pleased.”
“What did you do there? I saw you on camera a few times, but I know you didn’t have your own time slot.”
“Producer, writer, researcher, talking head talent coach, you name it, I did it.” She looked up at him with almost-clear eyes. “I’d like to think that the people there came to respect me for what I did and for what I could do.”
His voice softened. “I’m sure they did.”
She shook her head, then let it hang down close to her chest to stretch out her neck. “Got to be the worst pillows in the state of Ohio. My neck is all twisted.”
“Want me to rub your shoulders? My mother used to make ’ooh’ and ‘ahh’ sounds when I gave her a neck massage.”
“I’ll keep it in mind. Right now, though, I need to pee.” She stopped and closed her eyes, then looked at him and shook her head. “And I can’t believe I just said that to you.”
He smiled. “Perils of close companionship. Hard to maintain a lot of privacy when you’re traveling with another person.”
Lois wanted to ask how much privacy he and Mayson Drake had given up in their travels together, but instead she threw back the covers and stood. “I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t listen too closely.”
He held up three fingers in a Scout vow. “I’m deaf until you come out. Just don’t fall in because I won’t hear you drowning.”
“Ha ha ha. Funny like a full-body cast.” She reached out and snatched her suitcase from the chair where it sat. “See you in a few minutes.”
****
He couldn’t help but hear sounds, of course, but he manfully resisted any mental speculation of what was happening behind the paper-thin bathroom door. He was glad she’d slept through his own morning toilet routine.
Then he realized that he’d shaved with his heat vision. The scent was probably still hanging in the air.
With any luck, she’d attribute it to the quality of the motel and not think anything about it. But he’d have to take special precautions from now on. Maybe if he picked up a scented candle and lit it after he shaved?
And he’d have to remember to buy a small box of matches, too. He didn’t think she’d believe that he could light a candle in a glass cylinder by rubbing two sticks together.
He picked up the map from the desk and sighed, then sat on the end of the bed with it. Traveling a straight route was the quickest way to complete their journey, but it held its own perils. If one of Luthor’s henchmen found where they had been, they could be tracked, especially if they kept on the same road.
He looked at the spot indicating Warren and thought. If they stayed on I-80, they’d be just south of Lake Erie when the interstate ended and they’d have to pick another road. By that time, they’d be around Akron, and if they went north to Cleveland – a place which many of the locals called ‘The Mistake by the Lake’ – they could pick up I-76 and keep west until they got to Toledo, where they’d have to choose another road. Not only that, I-80 was a toll road beginning just west of their location, and he didn’t want them to be photographed at a toll booth. He’d found out the year before how easy it was to hack their cameras when one of his co-workers had pulled pictures of a kidnapper from the I-950 bypass in Metropolis.
Clark didn’t like that route for other reasons, too. It went too close to Chicago and Lake Michigan, which would rob them of a northerly escape route if they needed to dodge in a hurry, and the toll road would have limited exits. No, he’d rather go back to I-80 and then on I-76 to Akron and head south on I-71 to Columbus, then take I-70 going west. That would point them to the middle of Indiana, and he was fairly sure that none of Luthor’s thugs would think of looking for them there. Terra Haute was about nine hours’ drive from their motel, and Clark wanted to give Luthor’s goons plenty of time to panic over not finding them.
As he firmed up the decision in his mind, the bathroom door opened and Lois walked out. Today she was wearing a dark red pullover golf shirt, loose knee-length Navy blue shorts, and low-heeled white tennis shoes. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and secured with a Navy blue band, and she topped the ensemble with a white tennis visor. Only a hint of makeup covered her face.
He stared, bludgeoned into silence by the vision before him.
He couldn’t help it. She was the most artlessly beautiful woman he’d ever seen in person, and there was no way his mouth would form words. A small part of his brain nudged the rest of his brain and insisted that it was time to go, but the larger part of his brain was drooling too hard to listen.
She stopped and frowned at him. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Is this okay?”
His lungs pulled in some air for him and broke the spell. “Oh – yeah, that’s okay. It’s more than okay. It’s great.”
She gave him a look like she wondered if he’d had a stroke, then said, “I thought if I changed my appearance and dressed like I wasn’t trying to hide, it would actually make me harder to see, especially with my new hair color. Do you like the effect?” She swished her head to either side and let the ponytail flip back and forth. “It’s a little longer than I prefer, but I think it works to my advantage now. Maybe we can get some scissors and cut it short later. You know, change my appearance again?”
He was glad she’d kept talking. It had given his brain time to reassert itself. “No, that’s a very good idea. If you look like you’re headed toward the links or the tennis court, people who don’t know you will be much less likely to recognize you.”
She flashed a quick grin as if she’d passed a test that had worried her. “Good. I mean, it’s good that people won’t notice me so easily. Do you want me to come to the front desk with you?”
The sudden change of subject threw him for a moment. “Huh? Front desk?”
“For the refund, remember? You paid cash for the room and the clerk promised you a deposit refund.”
“Oh. Oh! Right, right.” He stood abruptly. “Just forgot for a second. Let’s load up the luggage and I’ll go to the desk. I think maybe you should deal with the next desk clerk, though.”
She nodded. “No problem. I’ll wait for you in the van.”
He stopped before opening the door. “One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“I’m going to ditch the pieces of that pistol you brought. I don’t think it’s a good idea to have it with us.”
Her face lost some of its brightness. “Oh. Yeah, you’re right. And you’re the boss on this trip, so whatever you say goes.”
