Reminder to Tank: Stay away if you value your health!
Nan
____________________
Mother's Day: 2/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
"Hi, Mom," CJ said. "Is Dad still at work?"
"Yes," his mother said. "Where else would he be? He'll be picking up Jonny from his after school class in half an hour."
"Okay. I wanted to ask him something about my science assignment." CJ turned to glance back out at the street, looking through both walls at the red sports car. The guy was fiddling with some kind of electronic gadget aimed at their house, but was apparently having trouble with it, judging from the scowl on his face and the fact that he was occasionally hitting it with his hand. CJ could make a guess at what it was. The creep was trying to eavesdrop on his family, probably with a directional microphone. He needed to get in touch with his dad pronto, before the guy got it working. CJ went up the steps to his parents' bedroom and picked up the phone.
There was a low buzzing on the line that probably wouldn't have been audible to anyone without enhanced hearing. CJ put down the phone. Not a good idea. He needed some way to talk to his dad without the possibility of bugged phone lines.
'Dad,' he thought, despairingly, 'come home! I need to talk to you! It's an emergency!'
No one could have been more surprised than CJ when his father's voice said in his mind, accompanied by a sensation of utter astonishment: 'CJ?!'
**********
And now, Part 2:
Clark was shutting down his computer in preparation for leaving when his son's voice said loudly and clearly in his mind: 'Dad, come home! I need to talk to you! It's an emergency!'
For an instant, he thought he was imagining things, and then the twelve-year-old memories of the New Kryptonian telepathic contacts flashed into his mind. CJ was communicating with him via telepathy!
'CJ?' he answered, astounded.
An instant's silence that in itself held a startled quality, and the CJ's mental voice said incredulously, 'Dad?'
'Yes,' Clark said. 'I'll explain later. What's the matter? Is it your mother?'
The sensation of astonishment had faded almost at once. Trust a modern kid, Clark thought briefly, to accept such things as telepathy so easily. 'Dad, there's a guy watching the house. Watching *me*. I think he's got a directional mike, and the phone sounds funny, like it might be bugged or something. I don't know what to do!'
With any other child, Clark might have been a little skeptical, but this was CJ. CJ was a calm, down-to-earth boy who rarely let his imagination run away with him. Plus, he had already had some experience with some of the not-so-nice members of society. 'What happened?'
CJ told him, starting with the substitute coach's interest in him at school, the gun in the gym bag and the fact that he was now sitting in his car across from the townhouse, fiddling with a piece of equipment that didn't seem to be working. Clark listened in silence until his son had finished.
'Okay,' he said, 'go downstairs and warn your grandmother -- via a note -- about what's happening. No one is to talk about anything involving super powers. Warn your sister and Linda and Wyatt, too. Your grandmother can warn your mother. I know you don't want to scare her, but she needs to know. Has Coach Pilson got his equipment working yet?'
Silence. 'I don't think so. He just hit it a couple more times.'
'Good. Hurry now.'
'Okay. Thanks, Dad.' CJ's mental voice 'felt' calmer now. Clark swept the contents of his desktop into a bottom drawer in a manner similar to Lois's favorite method of desktop cleaning and stood up. Jim Olsen saw him, and raised an eyebrow.
"In a hurry?"
"Yeah. There might be a problem at home."
"Lois?" Jim asked quickly.
"No. It seems that someone is watching the house and has a directional mike aimed at it. Phone might be bugged, too."
"Oh." Jim glanced at Perry White's office. "Better take off. I'll tell Perry." He paused. "I'm about to leave for the day, too. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Uh --" Clark was about to refuse and stopped. "Jonny needs to be picked up from his after-school class. I can do it if you can't, though."
"Say no more," Jim said. "I'll get him. It sounds like you might be busy for a while. Sandi's going to pick up the baby, so we won't have a conflict."
"Thanks." Clark headed for the elevator, grateful one more time that he no longer had set hours as long as he continued to bring in headlines, and that Jim Olsen had figured out the Kent family secret years ago. How would he have ever managed without the close circle of friends who knew his secret and rallied around to help him solve the problems that he had to deal with every day?
A short time later, Superman was floating above the townhouse, five hundred feet in the air, looking down at the man in the red sports car. He had a directional mike, all right, and apparently had it partially working, for he was wearing a pair of earphones and frowning at the sounds he was picking up from the townhouse. Clark listened for a minute and had to grin, even through his concern, at the information that was being transmitted to the listener.
Jimmy, in the playroom, was engaged in playing the newest in the family's acquisition of Playstation games, full of crashes, machine gun fire and explosions, with the sound turned up high. Wyatt and CJ had retreated to CJ's room and were doing their English homework while listening to the newest music group to hit the airwaves -- indistinguishable to Clark's ears from the last ten, at least -- in the last couple of months. Marta and Linda had apparently undertaken to make a cake under Martha Kent's tutelage, and were engaged in running the electric mixer, and Lois had evidently decided to engage in an Ivory Tower marathon, judging by the stack of tapes sitting on the coffee table. Hopefully their eavesdropper would get tired of the racket in a hurry, but Clark had little faith in that. Still, the family, with the exception of Jimmy, who had no way of knowing that anything was wrong, had apparently deliberately chosen activities designed to make the listener as bored and uncomfortable as possible.
Still, he needed to find out who was interested in his son, and by extension, his family. Too much interest in the Kent family was definitely something to be avoided.
He noted the license plate on the car, then pulled a U-turn in the air and made a beeline for the office of Deputy Mayor William Henderson.
**********
Bill Henderson was working on the rough draft of the speech that he was planning to make before the City Council and, of course, the press, at the next Council meeting that was scheduled in two days, when he heard the light tapping on the glass of his office window. Since the window was on the second floor of the building, and Lois Lane was pretty much grounded with her triplets, there was only one person it was likely to be, unless the media was starting to employ human flies as their correspondents.
Sure enough, floating beyond the window was the shape of a tall man in a skin-tight costume of electric blue and a flapping red cape. He grinned sardonically. "Come on in," he said. "It's unlocked."
The city's resident superhero opened the window and dropped to the rug. "Hi, Bill."
"And what can the Mayor's office do for you today?" Henderson asked. "I hope you're not using your celebrity status to get a sneak preview of the Deputy Mayor's blockbuster speech day after tomorrow."
Clark looked slightly shocked. "I'd never do a thing like that!"
Henderson shook his head. "Unfortunately, I know that all too well. I take it this isn't just a social call?"
"I'm sorry to say, not. I wanted to know if you've been keeping track of the situation regarding Bureau 39, and what their status is."
Henderson frowned. "The investigation is still going forward. Cash and his buddies are in prison, awaiting trial for kidnapping, murder, treason, and several other charges. Why?"
"My son's PE coach is apparently getting snoopy about him." Clark hesitated. "CJ overheard someone on the phone asking the coach if he was exhibiting any unusual abilities. CJ x-rayed the guy's gym bag and saw a gun in it, and as of five minutes ago, the coach's car is parked across the street from my house, with a directional microphone aimed at it. My house phone is probably also bugged. I want to know who he works for."
Henderson sat up straight. "So do I. What's his name?"
"Well," Clark said, "at the school, he's going under the name of Pilson."
"Got a description?"
Clark stepped forward and picked up a pencil and notepad. "I can sketch his face for you." The pencil was flying over the paper, and an instant later, he held out the pad with a very skillfully done line drawing. "I don't know about height or weight. He's fairly good-sized and muscular. I'd guess two hundred pounds, somewhere between five-ten and six feet. He was sitting down when I saw him. I've written his license plate number below the drawing."
Henderson took the paper. "If I were the curious sort, I'd wonder why your adopted son was developing your powers, but fortunately I'm not. Curious, that is. Let me make a few inquiries. In the meantime, you might want to go back and keep an eye on this fellow."
"Thanks," Clark said. "Call my cell phone if you find anything."
"I will." Henderson cocked an eyebrow at him. "How do you know when to answer 'Superman' and when to answer otherwise?"
"Caller ID," Clark said. "How else?"
"Of course," Henderson murmured. "All right, get going. I'll let you know what I find out."
**********
The red car was still sitting across the street from the townhouse when he pulled up in the Jeep. Jim's restored, classic Studebaker was parked by the curb, so he concluded that his co-worker hadn't left yet. He parked directly in front of the house and jogged up the steps, never glancing at the man who was apparently spying on his family. Maybe the guy was hoping for some kind of incriminating dialogue when he got there. If so, he was going to be disappointed.
He unlocked the door and went in, locking it behind him. He hadn't seen any sign of Kryptonite in the red sports car, but it was just as well not to take chances.
Jim Olsen was seated in the armchair next to the sofa where Lois reclined, and the two of them were looking at the screen of the computer that Lois kept within reach of her spot. "The Ivory Tower" was blasting away at a level that made him wince.
"Hi, CK!" Jim said, his cheerful voice at variance with the expression on his face as he beckoned Clark over to the sofa.
"Hey, Jim. Thanks for bringing Jonny home for me." Clark crossed the room and bent to see what they were doing.
"No sweat," Jim said. "I guess all this leave for Lois is giving her a chance to catch up on her soap opera. How'd the interview go?"
"Fine," Clark said. "I'll write it up in a bit and send it to the office. It should make the deadline."
On the screen of the computer, Jim had pulled up the DataNet and he and Lois were looking at a picture and profile of Boris Pilson, presumably a substitute coach currently at Metropolis Elementary.
The picture was of a much older man, in a state of considerable less physical fitness, than the man Clark had seen in the car across the street. It also gave an address. Clark nodded and jerked a thumb at the rear of the house. "I'm going to go change, honey. When I get back I'll see if Mom needs any help with dinner."
"Thanks, sweetheart," Lois said. She made a slight face and rubbed her back.
"Anything wrong?" Clark asked.
"No. Just more false labor. I've had so much of it ever since the premature labor scare."
"If it keeps up, let me know. It won't hurt to take you over to Women's Hospital to check it out."
"Clark, I'm *fine*. If anything seems even the slightest bit off, I'll tell you. I promise."
"I'll hold you to that."
"I'm going to take off," Jim said. "Sandi won't like it if I'm late for dinner. I'll see if I can dig up more background on that story for you, CK. If I find anything, I'll email it over, okay?"
"Okay. Thanks."
Jim headed for the front door. Lois pointed silently to the screen where a Word document was now displayed prominently. On it, Jimmy had typed: "Will contact my dad."
"I'll go change, now, honey," Clark said. "Back in a few minutes." He bent down to kiss his wife on the lips.
Lois nodded. "I think I can manage here for that long," she said, making a shooing motion with her hand.
Clark went up the stairs to the master bedroom. A glance upward at the attic playroom showed him that Jonny and Jimmy were now arguing vociferously over the possession of the game controller. He smiled grimly. He hoped that the watcher, whoever he really was, was getting an earful of a busy family with nothing unusual about them at all.
A look out the rear window of the house convinced him that there was no one paying undue attention to them from this side. Apparently the pseudo-coach was there to eavesdrop, but wasn't watching for any comings and goings by other members of the family. A minute later, Superman was on his way to the address of Boris Pilson.
**********
"I checked out Mr. Pilson," Clark told Deputy Mayor Henderson a short time later. "He's due to retire in a couple of years. All his information matches the stuff I found on him at the school except his age and picture."
"In other words, the guy at the school's an impostor," Henderson said. "Not that I'm surprised. From my end, I'm working on the assumption that if he isn't from Bureau 39, then he's got some kind of connection with it. Maybe a friend of Cash's in another government department. I doubt that all the nuts are in one basket. Security agencies are normally manned by dedicated men and women, but they do have the tendency to attract the occasional conspiracy freak. Trask and Cash were prime examples. I wonder if there's something about the idea of aliens that brings out the paranoid in some folks."
"Maybe," Clark said, somewhat dryly. "The trouble is, my presence, and Nor's invasion, make it kind of hard to laugh at the idea. I'm living proof of the existence of aliens. I guess the idea of our inclusion into the human race scares some people."
Henderson snorted. "Don't give me that. The very fact that human/Kryptonian hybrids exist proves that you *are* human -- even if you're a long-lost branch of the family. I'd like to hear Klein's theory on that some day -- if I thought I could understand it. Still, you have a point. Some people are still living in the Stone Age. You say Olsen is trying to get hold of his father?"
Clark nodded. "Jack Olsen might be the right guy to identify this character. In the meantime, though, I need to do something about my phone. There's definitely a bug on it. I can hear it."
"Hmm." Henderson rubbed his chin with his index finger. "Let's see ..."
**********
CJ and Wyatt had finished their English homework and graduated to Math while the adults of the family went about dealing with the problem of the snooper. English was CJ's subject of expertise, and he frequently had to help Wyatt with the mysteries of nouns, verbs, adjectives, and general spelling. On the other hand, Wyatt excelled in Math, and had a knack for explaining to CJ the finer points of the day's math lesson. The two boys were wrangling through the latest assignment, with CJ occasionally glancing through the wall at the man in the red car. Pilson looked bored, and was reading a magazine. CJ got a glimpse of the picture on the cover and made a face. The woman on the cover was so top-heavy as to seem in danger of falling over. He knew that someday Linda would have a figure like other adult women, and the prospect didn't disturb him at all, but the way the man was drooling over the pictures made his stomach turn. He decided that, even if Pilson hadn't been spying on him, he just didn't like the guy. His mother and father had taught him long ago that he should respect women. Even if he tended to think that most girls were a nuisance, he always treated them politely, and ever since he had gotten to know Linda, he'd felt somewhat differently toward them. Maybe he was growing up, he reflected. He'd always thought the way his mother and father smooched in front of their kids to be a little embarrassing, but the thought of kissing Linda someday didn't seem so bad. In fact, it might be something to look forward to. Maybe Dad was onto something after all.
Wyatt was watching him. CJ glanced back and made a face. Wyatt rolled his eyes.
They finished the math and stuffed their books into their backpacks. CJ stood up and stretched. "Want to play a computer game?" he asked.
"Sure," Wyatt said. "That's unless Jimmy and Jonny are on it."
CJ caught himself before he informed Wyatt that Jonny and Jimmy were on the Playstation, wiping out the Mindworm Invaders. "Let's go see," he said.
Linda and Marta entered the playroom seconds after CJ and Wyatt. Marta promptly sat down behind her younger brothers and started directing them in their play. CJ smiled at Linda, who looked questioningly at him. He jerked a thumb toward the front of the house. Linda's eyes took on a distant look, and then she made a face.
It was too bad, CJ thought, that they couldn't talk to each other without a pencil and paper. Then, the memory of what had happened earlier in the day crossed his mind. Would it work with Linda? Dad and he were full Kryptonians, but Linda was half. Would that make a difference?
Well, there was one way to find out, if he could figure out how he'd done it with Dad.
"Hey!" he said. "I've got an idea! Let's have a séance!"
Wyatt and Linda looked at him like they thought he'd gone crazy. He jerked a thumb toward the front of the house again and raised his eyebrows. Marta had turned from her job of annoying her younger brothers and CJ saw her look toward the red car. "Yeah, lets," she said. Wyatt and Linda looked at each other and then Linda spoke.
"Okay," she said slowly, "I guess we could. Do you have an Ouija board?"
"Sure," Marta said. "It's on the shelf with the other games. I'll get it."
"I'll go get Dad's paperweight," CJ said. "It's a piece of round glass. It'll do for a crystal ball."
"Don't we need some candles?" Wyatt asked.
"Mom wouldn't like us lighting candles," Marta said, "but you could get a couple of flashlights. CJ has a mini-mag in his room, and there's one on my dresser."
"It's in my top drawer," CJ said. "You get them while I get the paperweight."
"Okay," Wyatt said, game as always. With a clatter of shoes on the wooden steps, the two boys departed in search of the paperweight and flashlights.
A short time later, the four children gathered in one corner of the playroom. They had turned out the lights, although Jimmy and Jonny continued to play on the Playstation without pausing. CJ doubted that they even realized that the lights were out. Other than the television, the only light in the room was provided by the two mini-mags sitting on end, braced by several books, in the middle of the circle of four children. The light reflected off the glass of Clark's big, round, glass paperweight, and Linda had laid the Ouija board on the floor in front of her.
CJ had no idea how a séance was supposed to be conducted, but it didn't really matter. He'd only suggested it to give himself cover while he tried to figure out how he had communicated mentally with his father that afternoon. If he could make it work, he might be able to talk to Linda and Marta the same way. It was a shame he and Wyatt wouldn't be able to do the same thing, but Wyatt wasn't even part Kryptonian, so it seemed unlikely that it would work for him.
"Now what?" Marta asked.
"Now, we all join hands and close our eyes," CJ said.
"Aren't we supposed to chant or something?" Wyatt asked doubtfully. "You know, like those guys on 'Beyond This World', when they contacted the spirits?"
"What should we chant?" Linda asked.
"How about Ohmm, Ohmm," CJ suggested. "That sounds pretty much like what they did."
"Sounds like my mom's meditation class," Linda said. She shrugged. "Okay, let's. But who are we going to try to contact?"
"How about the spirit world," Marta said. "Maybe somebody there would like to give us a message."
"Fine," CJ said, trying not to sound impatient at all the irrelevant interruptions. A glance out the front of the house showed Coach Pilson yawning cavernously. Good. They were boring the guy out of his mind.
The children linked hands and Marta started, rather cautiously to chant. CJ closed his eyes and concentrated. 'Linda!'
Nothing. Maybe this wasn't going to work with a half-Kryptonian, he thought, but since she seemed to be getting all the super powers, at least so far, he wasn't ready to give up yet. Maybe he wasn't going at this right. What had he been doing when he had contacted his dad?
He'd been scared, he remembered, and desperate to get hold of Clark. Maybe he had to try harder. 'Linda!' he thought at her.
And suddenly he was feeling something different. Surprise, bordering on shock.
'Linda!' he thought again. 'It's CJ. Don't say anything, okay? I just found out my dad and I can do this.'
Slowly, the sensation of surprise faded. 'CJ?' her voice said. It was funny how the voice in his head sounded like her real voice.
'Yeah. I wanted to see if we could talk without that creep overhearing us. Let's see if I can talk to Marta.'
"If you're not going to chant," Marta said, "this isn't going to work."
"Sorry," CJ said. "I can't carry a tune very well."
"You don't have to," Wyatt said practically. "Just hum."
"Okay," CJ said. "Let's try again."
They began to hum with more conviction this time. With more confidence, CJ closed his eyes, thinking hard at his sister. 'Marta! Can you hear me?'
Marta gave a funny squawk. "CJ?"
'Shh! *Think* at me!'
The sense of shock from his sister faded even more quickly than it had with Linda. 'What are you doing?'
'We're talking with our minds. Telepathy. I think it's a Kryptonian power.'
'Oh wow!' Marta seemed to adjust to the idea with frightening speed. 'But does that mean Wyatt can't talk to us?'
'I don't think so. He's not a Kryptonian.'
'Why not try?' Linda's voice said, breaking in on the conversation with amazing ease. 'He's our friend. Maybe he can learn. Think at him, CJ.'
'Wyatt?' CJ tried.
Wyatt didn't respond. CJ tried again and then shrugged. 'No luck.'
Linda was also trying. CJ could hear her almost shouting at him with her new skill. Wyatt obviously heard nothing.
'Wyatt!' Marta's mental voice rode over both Linda's and CJ's. 'Can you hear me?'
Wyatt's head jerked up. "Why are you shouting at me?" he asked, giving Marta a somewhat irritated look. "I can hear you just fine."
**********
tbc
