The first mention of Platt’s death in the media was on the front page of the Planet’s morning edition, nestled in a highlight box below the fold with a file photo of Platt and a teaser saying “Former EPRAD Scientist Dies Under Suspicious Circumstances” and accompanied by a promise of details in the evening edition. By nine-fifteen, Catharine and Clark’s story was in the editor’s inbox. By ten o’clock, Perry had badgered Bill Henderson into letting some of the details of the case go to print. By ten-ten that morning, three other editors, two major news network anchors, and five local anchors had called Perry to pull the story away from the Planet.
It didn’t work. With no hemming or hawing, no conditional promises, and no leaks, the Planet’s general editor stood firm without a hint of wavering. Only one of the local anchors, a talented woman new at the job but obviously on her way up the ladder, seemed to be surprised when she got nothing for her efforts. Clark was both surprised and impressed at his new boss’ forcefulness. He considered that maybe he’d gotten a better job than he’d known existed. If not for the Planet’s coverage of the “suspicious circumstances,” the story probably would have died aborning.
Perry also called an emergency meeting at eleven o’clock to discuss the “Platt case,” as he now called it. Before everyone entered the conference room, Clark glanced at Lois and thought she looked a little more determined than usual about something, which, judging from what he’d already seen, might be her normal appearance. Still, it bothered him enough to eavesdrop on her. In the interest of her own protection, of course, since Lois was hanging back in the parade to the meeting and also blocking Catharine’s progress.
Just before the women entered the room, he heard Lois pull Cat aside and insist, “We don’t have time for meetings. We’ve got to get this story while the evidence is still available.”
“Where is this evidence?”
Lois’ shoe brushed a trash can. She seemed to be moving toward the newsroom door. “It’s in a hangar at the EPRAD base. I heard they’re working on it to figure out which busted part goes where so they can correct the problem.”
He heard Catharine huff back. “I’ll go you one better. I’ve heard from the coroner about Platt. His death is going to be treated as a homicide. She says that Clark and I missed him, her, or them by less than an hour, probably a lot less. This is really getting dangerous, and I for one don’t want my obituary out there just yet.”
“Come on, Cat! Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“I left it in Platt’s apartment with his body and I’m not going back for it any time soon.”
Clark suppressed a chuckle. The exchange between the two women told him a great deal about both of them. Catharine had learned discretion and self-deprecating humor over the past eight years, and Lois was as determined and single-minded as Catharine had told him she was. Working with them was going to be a challenge.
“Kent!”
His attention snapped back to the meeting. “Ah, yes, sir?”
“You want to participate in this meeting or just sit there with a goofy look on your face?”
“Oh. Sorry. I was waiting for my partners to join—”
He suddenly realized that he couldn’t hear either of them any longer. They were out of his hearing, something which took some effort and planning – or distance.
“Perry? Cat and Lois may be in trouble. I think I should go look for them.”
His boss stared at him for two long breaths, long enough for Clark to get even more antsy. Then Perry said, “Go. If they’re in trouble – and they probably are – you need to get them to safety.”
“Got it.”
“And then you stay with them! The three of you can watch over each other.”
He didn’t bother answering this time. He was on the ground floor in the stairwell by the time the conference room door glided shut.
*****
Lois seethed at Antoinette Baines for chaining them to the steel pipe. She seethed even more for letting Baines and her silent pet get the drop on them with her little Colt .25 caliber semi-auto and his – of all the modern weapons he could have used – German World War Two-era nine-millimeter MP-40 Machine Pistol, the one the GIs had inaccurately called a Schmeisser. Worst of all, the clown had dropped Cat to the concrete with a blow to the head with the butt of his deadly little machine pistol. If Cat had been mobile and alert, Lois would have tried for the MP-40, but the tall redhead was barely conscious. Baines had told Lois that she planned to take over the space program and “seize the high ground,” which was so obvious to an infantry soldier that it was all but a cliché. Still, the ugly-colored and foul-smelling chemicals Baines was dumping on the floor would kill both herself and Cat unless something close to miraculous happened, making clichés unimportant.
Baines and the blond gorilla hustled toward the far end of the building and out of the immediate area just before the miracle showed up.
Lois was tugging on her chair, trying for some kind of leverage, when a tall, bespectacled young man bent down over her. “Give me a few seconds and I’ll—”
“Kent!”
“Got it right in one try.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I was trying to follow you – but – that’s got it!”
He moved to Cat and started in on her chain with the crowbar in his hands, then dropped it and pulled on her bonds. The chain fell to the floor. “We have to go, Lois.”
“Where did you come from? How did you—”
He picked Cat up and tossed her over his shoulder. “Explanations later! Run now!”
“Where?”
“Unlocked door at ten o’clock!”
She grabbed their purses, then turned to her left and sprinted to the door. She held it open as Clark carried Cat out into the yard. They’d run about thirty feet when the building turned into a giant MythBusters exploding toaster oven and threw them into a mud puddle.
Lois checked Cat over for obvious injuries, then splashed water on all three of them to make sure none of them were on fire. Clark noticed her movements and asked, “Are you a competitive swimmer along with being a reporter who likes standing in the crosshairs?”
She sent him a scalding glare, one which he dodged without moving. “No,” she replied, “combat medic. Middle East.”
“Is she okay?”
Cat chose that moment to groan and try to sit up, but Lois held her down. “Possible concussion, maybe first-degree flash burns on her back and lower legs, no broken bones, abrasions and bruising all over her body.” She turned to Clark and snapped, “Your doing?”
Clark frowned and huffed at her. “Can we use complete sentences with all of our questions, please?”
She opened her mouth as if to snap at him again, then closed her eyes and nodded. “I’m sorry. Cat’s my best friend. I don’t want anything bad to happen to her.”
His response was interrupted by a small helicopter taking flight over the inferno. For a moment he looked like he was going to jump up and grab it before it got away. “We’ll call the FAA to watch for them as soon as we find a phone,” she said. She dug in her purse and found her WayneTech micro-recorder. “They won’t get away. Registration number November-Yankee-Tango—”
The next moment fit her prediction that “they” wouldn’t get away as the chopper vanished in a ball of flame. Clark interposed his body between pieces of the falling chopper and the two women, but none of the fiery fragments came anywhere near them.
Lois glanced at his face and was surprised to see regret and sorrow there. Her voice lowered a register as she said, “You couldn’t have saved them. They were both dead the instant the bomb in the chopper touched off.”
He looked stricken, as if he would have flown up to save them. The next sound she heard, though, was an alto groan.
“Hey,” Cat said. “Wanna give me a hand? Stuck in a mud puddle here.”
Lois glanced around. Most of the ground around them was either grass or bare dirt. Either they were the luckiest trio in history, or Clark had aimed them at the muddy water. But that was impossible. Had to be dumb luck.
Cat tried to stand, but Lois made her sit on the dry ground next to the puddle. “We need to get you checked out at a hospital, Red. Clark, how did you get here?”
Cat chuckled and moaned at the same time. “I must be hurt. You usually call me Red only when I’m bleeding.”
Clark pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. “I drove Cat’s Buick. And I don’t think we need transportation. We have sirens coming our way.”
Cat groaned again. “Ohh, my head. The entire city is spinning.”
“Told you she might have a concussion.”
Clark slipped in close behind her. “I’ve got you, Catharine. Lois and I will stay with you. The ambulance will be here soon.”
“Good. Hope at least one – uhh – one of the EMTs is single.”
Clark and Lois both laughed with her. His voice was light, but his body language said he was more than concerned with her condition. It almost looked as if he were holding someone special to his heart.
Lois was surprised at how much she disliked that thought.
*****
The ambulance attendants loaded Cat into the vehicle and transported her to Metro General Hospital. Clark and Lois spent the next few hours answering questions from Metro PD, from the FBI, from the FAA, from New Troy state troopers, from EPRAD security, and – she muttered under her breath – the local dogcatcher. A state trooper finally allowed Lois to phone in the story to rewrite, including the fake shuttle she and Cat had found and Baines’ part in trying to kill them. Perry promised to put a teaser story in the evening edition and a detailed account in the morning. First, though, they had to fight through the mass of media hounds trying to pry the story from them.
Clark hated being on the other side of the typewriter.
They finally made it to Cat’s Buick, which reluctantly agreed to start. As Clark guided them off the EPRAD grounds, he turned to Lois and asked, “Do you want me to take you home so you can clean up?”
“No. Head to the Planet. It’s closer.”
He frowned. “How are you going to clean up at the office?”
“I have spare clothes in my locker at work.”
“You really are prepared.”
She lifted both women’s purses and tilted her head to one side. “I figured you would be, too, seeing as how you’re a former Scout and all.”
“How did you know – never mind, it doesn’t matter. I’ll drop you off and go home, then. I probably should refill Cat’s gas tank, too, since I’ve been driving her car so much lately.”
“Good idea.”
“Hey, did I hear right? Cat’s staying in the hospital overnight?”
“Yes. Actually, that brings up a situation.”
“What’s that?”
“I know it’s late, but can you get a tuxedo by seven tonight? The White Orchid Ball is tonight, and since Cat’s out of commission for now, we have an extra ticket.”
“Huh. After this busy day, I’d planned to go home and rest.”
“Well, I know you don’t know this, Farm Boy, but this is the social event of the entire year. It’s hosted by Lex Luthor, and I’ve been angling for an interview with him for more than two months.”
Clark turned right toward the Planet and nodded. “Isn’t he famously interview-shy?”
“Yes, and that’s why I’m getting the exclusive.”
He glanced at her. “Catharine won’t mind if I use her ticket?”
“No. We’ve been friends for over five years, and I know her well. She’d rather you use it than let it go to waste.”
He glided to a stop near the paper’s front door. “So – this is like a date?”
Lois’ eyes lit up and she bounced in her seat. “A date?” She gave out a girlish squeal. “Like, when you pick me up at my place and my mom acts so glad to know that I’m actually seeing a man and Daddy is cleaning his shotgun when you come in and my little sister flirts with you to see if you really like me and to make sure you’re not gay? That kind of date?”
Clark tried to suppress a smile and almost succeeded. “Well, yes, except for the sister flirting and the shotgun and your dad glaring at me and your mom hanging on my arm because she has a slim hope her daughter won’t be an old maid and I come pick you up in a car that may or may not run and whose interior has seen better months? Sure, it’ll be that kind of date.”
Lois stared at him for a long moment, then fished in Cat’s purse for a moment. “Here’s your ticket,” she said flatly. As he reached for it, she flicked it back and said in a sing-song voice, “No necking behind the Tastee-Freeze, okay? Daddy will still have the shotgun when you take me home.”
“I assume he’s a good shot?”
Using her normal no-nonsense voice, she replied, “He calls his shots like a billiards champion. And so do I. You keep your lips and hands to yourself, Farm Boy.”
“As you wish.”
Her dry expression would have drained a small river. “And no movie quotes. Seven o’clock. Be there on time. I’m not going doe.”
“Not going doe? What does that – oh, wait, it’s the feminine version of a guy going stag, isn’t it?”
She fought to contain the smile but didn’t quite succeed. “You’re not as dumb as you look, Kent.” She opened the passenger door and slid out.
He watched her stalk toward the Planet’s main entrance. She was a challenge to work with, but it was even more of a challenge to try to hide from her. If anyone could score that interview with Lex Luthor, it was the team of Lois Lane and Cat Grant.
He hoped he remembered the shop that claimed it could clean a suit in six hours.
*****
Jimmy met Clark just inside the venue entrance. “Hey, CK! Glad you could make it after all.”
Clark shook his head in confusion. “After all what?”
“After the building exploded with Cat and Lois inside and you rescuing them and Baines’ helicopter blowing up and Cat going to the hospital – they’re probably going to release her tomorrow morning – and Lois chasing Lex Luthor for that interview, you made it.”
“I pretty much had to come. After all that, if I’d skipped this party, Lois probably would have emptied her weapon and one of her spare magazines at me.”
Jimmy’s laugh drew haughty looks from several of their fellow party-goers. “You’re probably right. Hey, have you met Luthor?”
Clark sipped his drink and looked away. “I don’t think we move in the same social circles.”
“Maybe not.” A flash of lightening threw jagged shadows onto the wall behind a man walking down the grand staircase. “That’s Lex Luthor right there.”
“Are you sure?”
“He’s glad-handing everyone he meets, most of the really rich dudes are smiling and bowing to him, he’s walking like he owns the place, he looks like the pictures in the Planet’s files on him, so yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s Lex Luthor.”
A woman’s voice rang out across the marble flooring. “Lex Luthor!”
Luthor stopped and searched for the voice’s source, then said, “I am he. Who are you?”
Ah, thought Clark, Lois has run her quarry to ground at last.
A thin, squeaky voice answered. “Oh, I’m real sorry, Mr. Luthor. I didn’t mean to yell like that.” She walked through the crowd to him, then threaded her arm through his and snugged up against him like a teenager asking her father to borrow the family car. “I’m Lois Lane with the Daily Planet, and I’d like to ask you some questions. Is that, like, okay?”
Clark nearly dropped his drink in surprise. Beside him, he could see Jimmy’s jaw fall open and his eyes bulge.
He half-turned to Jimmy and whispered, “That’s Lois Lane, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Thought so when I first saw her.”
“That’s who she looks like, anyway,” Jimmy said.
“She sounds like a Valley Girl on speed to me.”
“Me too. What’s she up to?”
Clark shrugged. “Dunno. She didn’t tell me her plans for the night.”
Jimmy nodded slowly. “Maybe if we ignore her she’ll go away and the real Lois will come in.”
“I don’t know. Whatever she’s doing, it seems to be working.”
“Whatever” seemed to include a slight bounce in her step and a vacuous grin on her face. It looked to everyone who knew her that Lois was suddenly channeling a less intelligent version of Paris Hilton.
Jimmy nudged Clark’s elbow. “You want to rescue her?”
Clark turned to face his new friend. “I don’t think this is the best time to tell her that I learned ballroom dancing from a Nigerian princess. If Luthor were still there, she might ask me if Nigeria was on the Canadian or American side of the falls.”
*****
“Well, that was less than satisfying,” Lois grumbled.
“Would you rather have found a Tastee-Freeze to park behind?”
She huffed at him. “I would rather have gotten something newsworthy from him.”
“You don’t think LexCorp supporting the space station initiative is newsworthy?”
“I do. But I’d rather have the exclusive.”
“Wouldn’t we all.”
She reached out and played with the heater controls for a moment, then gave up. “Nuts. This car is worse than my first VW.”
He chuckled. “This car is worse than a moped that was run over by a steamroller.”
She turned her head toward him and worked her mouth for an instant. He had the distinct impression that she’d nearly stuck her tongue out at him. It shot down a perfectly good comeback when she didn’t.
But it gave him an opening. “Hey, while we’re on the subject, how come you were acting like a total airhead when you first approached Luthor?”
She gave him a cutting frown. “How do the relative merits of various cars relate to my trying to score an exclusive interview with the third richest man in the U.S.?”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t, really, but I still want an answer to my question.”
She mirrored his shrug. “Simple. People see what they expect to see. Luthor sees a Betty Boop impersonator complete with squeaky voice and terrifyingly low brain volume, so that’s how he deals with her. That’s how I got the one valuable item from him.”
“Oh? I didn’t think you got anything from him.”
“I got dinner and an exclusive interview on Saturday evening four weeks from this weekend. I can get more with a Mae West routine than by being a wanna-be Mayson Drake, at least until I start asking questions.”
“Who’s Mayson Drake?”
She stared at him. “You really are new here, aren’t you?”
“Guilty as charged, ma’am. Can you please tell me who Mayson Drake is?”
“Don’t confess to being guilty of anything around her. She’s Metropolis’ District Attorney, and if she’s after you for any reason, I suggest you leave town – no, leave the state – while you still can.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Yes.”
He paused for a long moment as he glided to a stop at the next traffic light, then asked, “Do you have any apt comparisons of her? Just to give me a reference point, you understand.”
Lois’ voice lowered close to a growl. “You want a comparison?”
“Please.”
“General George Patton.”
Clark’s eyes widened and his head snapped around to face her. “Patton?”
“Yes, Patton. Without the famous compassion.”
He tried to imagine Patton’s identical twin sister as the city DA. It was a little bit scary.
As he stopped in front of Lois’ apartment building, a thought took root in his head. She’d said that “people see what they expect to see.” Catharine had told him much the same thing.
Maybe he could use that thought in his own life.
*****
The next morning, he stood on the back porch of his parents’ farmhouse with an idea that was either as brilliant as General Relativity or dumber than a box of rocks bouncing around in his mind. His father must have heard him scraping around, because the door opened before he knocked.
“Dad! Am I glad to see you. Is Mom up yet?”
His dad gave him an exasperated glare. “Do you know what time it is, son?”
Clark looked at his wrist watch. “Yes, it’s about six-thirty Central time.”
Jonathan opened the door and stepped aside. “Then yes, we’re up. In fact, we just finished breakfast. Why? What’s going on?”
“Thanks. How about I trade you a half-day’s chores in exchange for two pair of listening ears and a response to an idea?”
“Now that’s a deal I can shake hands on.”
*****
Martha was proud of her son. The best part was that he didn’t have to have it spelled out. He knew how his parents felt about him.
Clark had lifted the combine so his father could adjust the tines poking out from the bottom of the vehicle, replaced the fence line on the south border of the property where about thirty posts were either rotted out or the next thing to it, and repaired the barn roof where the previous week’s windstorm had blown half of it into the main yard before his mother called her two favorite men in for lunch.
Now she and Jonathan sat at the table contemplating their son’s idea for helping without revealing himself to the world.
As she expected, her husband was not in favor of Clark’s plan.
“Son, this is a bad idea. Someone’s going to take a picture, that picture will get printed, someone at the Daily Planet will look at it and say, ‘Look, it’s Clark Kent!’ You won’t have a secret for very long.”
“That’s why I need Mom’s help. I need her design skills to help me with an outfit that will draw attention away from my face until people get used to seeing me, and once they get used to seeing a flying man, people will see the details of what they want to see. Believe me, I don’t want to get stuck in a cage or dissected like a frog any more than you two want me to be.”
Martha expected her husband’s next objection and wasn’t disappointed. “But you’re willing to put me and your mother in danger? If this doesn’t work – if someone does put it together – what are we going to do? How will we live? I’m too old to start over again somewhere else, and unless we’re willing to abandon the farm completely, if anyone does recognize you and we sell out, someone could find us by following the money. No one’s going to believe that we didn’t know about your special abilities.”
“I know that, Dad, and that’s why I’m here now. If you two really don’t want me to do this, I won’t. All I know, though, is that my only alternative is to keep drifting through the world whenever someone notices that interesting things tend to happen around me. And I’m really tired of drifting.” He sat back and sighed deeply. “I really don’t want to leave Metropolis. I want to put down roots, to build something, some place I can call ‘home’ when I’m not here.”
Jonathan’s hesitation gave her the opportunity Martha was looking for. “I think we should go forward with this idea. I know I want to do it.” She turned and focused on her husband. “I know that we’d be rolling the dice on this along with Clark, but he’s going to keep helping people no matter where he lives or what we say about it. He can’t stop doing good deeds that no one else can do any more than you could stop being the good man that you are, the good man you taught our son to be. I’d rather support him in this and give him a place to retreat to than fight him on it.” She took both of his big hands in both of her small ones and gave him “those” eyes, the ones he’d so often told her melted his resolve. “What do you say, my husband?”
Jonathan hesitated a long time, then kissed her hands and looked at his son. “I hope you find a woman who loves you this much someday, son. She’s one to ride the range with.” He gave her one of “those” smiles, the ones she so often told him made her wriggle down low in her belly. They still did, too.
Still smiling, he said, “I have just one request for you, Martha. Please don’t make him look like a giant popsicle.”
Last edited by Terry Leatherwood; 09/29/20 01:32 PM.
