As you have probably guessed, we're getting close to the end, and since I'm probably going to be baby-sitting, at least part of next week, I'm going to post this part now. I'm a little nervous about it, so please give me any suggestions you may think of to improve the reality of the situation.
Nan
Twins: 25/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
"You'll have to," Lois said. "Just remember, you're going to have to answer some questions when we get the time, pal."
"Sure," Clark said. "Let's just get this mess squared away, and when we can get a few minutes of peace and quiet, I'll answer any questions you want."
Lois nodded. "Don't think I'll let you forget, either." The doors slid open and they exited in the direction of the Cherokee. "So Mexican is okay?"
"It's fine. I'm thinking the Nachos Grande and guacamole dip with cheese smothered chips."
"I can foresee a two-hour workout at the gym this evening," Lois said, without rancor. "Oh well, life is more than dieting, anyway." She took out her key ring as they circled a nondescript station wagon and approached the Jeep.
A figure stepped from behind one of the big concrete sections that supported the building above them, and Lois stared unbelieving at Nigel St. John. The prim, white-haired man looked the perfect gentleman's gentleman. He was impeccably attired in a suit and tie, and his face was the perfectly expressionless mask that Lois had grown to know over the months that she had dated Lex Luthor. But the .38 in his hand was completely out of character for the image that he had always projected, and it was pointed directly at her.
"Miss Lane," he greeted them, "Mr. Kent. My master has directed me to bring you to him." He gestured toward the station wagon. "Get in, please."
**********
The station wagon pulled unobtrusively through a back entrance leading into the private parking area beneath LexTower that was reserved for Lex Luthor's fleet of limousines. The driver, the turbaned man that Lois knew as Asabi, never glanced at the two of them or at Nigel St. John, who sat in the passenger seat, his handgun aimed unwaveringly at Lois. Asabi pulled the car smoothly into a corner parking space and cut the engine.
St. John backed out of the car, keeping his weapon centered on Lois. "Get out, Miss Lane," he said, expressionlessly.
Lois did so, careful to make no sudden moves. When she was standing beside the car, St. John raised his voice slightly. "Now you, Mr. Kent."
Clark got out beside her. Lois glanced at her partner's tense face and set jaw. The only thing that was holding him back, she thought, was the certainty that St. John would pull the trigger if Clark attacked him and might seriously injure or kill her. For all his age, Nigel St. John gripped the .38 with casual and competent familiarity. The man knew how to handle a gun.
Lois bit her lip. The problem was, of course, that Clark didn't have his super powers, and might well take chances that he shouldn't out of sheer habit -- chances that could easily get him killed. She laid a hand lightly on his wrist and he glanced down at her.
"Don't do anything, Clark," she said quietly.
His eyes locked with hers for a second, and she felt some of the tension drain out of him. He nodded slightly.
"Very wise of you, Mr. Kent." St. John's icy voice broke into the moment. "I really have no wish to kill you. Mr. Luthor would be most annoyed if it became necessary. This way, please."
He beckoned with his free hand and they obeyed, walking slowly in the direction he indicated.
In the wall beside the spot where they had parked, Lois saw an unobtrusive door -- a private elevator, she realized, probably for the benefit of the chauffeur and other members of the staff. Behind them, Nigel spoke.
"Call the elevator, Mr. Kent."
Obediently, Clark rang for the car. While they waited, Lois glanced unobtrusively around, assessing the situation.
They might run, but with St. John so close, it was probable that one of them would be shot before they got very far. And the man had positioned himself directly behind them, but not quite close enough that either she or Clark would have any chance of catching him by surprise. No, her first thought had been the right one -- to cooperate, and stay alive, to fight only if it looked as if one of them was going to be killed. Clark had said that his super hearing was coming back. Perhaps his other super powers wouldn't be far behind. If the two of them could hold out until that happened, it would solve all their problems at once.
The elevator door slid open and St. John spoke again. "Go inside. Face the wall and lace your fingers behind your heads."
Meekly, Lois obeyed. Clark did also. She could almost feel the rebellion in every line of his body, but to her relief, he made no objection to the command. The elevator doors closed, and she felt the car begin to rise. It seemed slow, but that wasn't a problem. The longer things took, the better. It gave Clark's powers that much longer to return.
Still, slow as the elevator was, it was still too soon when they slid to a stop and the door popped open with a soft, pneumatic sigh.
There was movement behind them, and then St. John's voice said, "Turn around."
The elevator opened on the main hallway of the penthouse, and to the right was the door to Lex's study.
"This way, please. Into the study." The butler's relentless courtesy, even in the act of kidnapping them, made chills crawl across her scalp. No doubt he would be equally polite while committing murder. Lois obeyed the order, already expecting what met her eyes when she entered the familiar room. Lex was sitting at his desk, his back to the French windows, regarding her with a faint smile on his lips.
"My dear Lois," he said, rising to his feet, "do come in. Welcome, Mr. Kent. Nigel, see to our guests' refreshment, if you please."
"Immediately, sir," St. John replied in his most expressionless voice.
"Sit down, my dear." Lex gestured to the armchairs that faced his desk. "Be comfortable."
Lois slowly crossed the room and sank into one of the chairs. Lex remained standing until Clark had also taken a chair, then casually reseated himself.
It was difficult to read his expression, Lois thought. With his back to the bright sunlight streaming in the French windows, his face was shadowed, but she thought he was smiling.
Silently, Nigel St. John set a glass of wine on the table next to her, and then did the same for Clark. Neither of them showed the slightest interest in the refreshment. Lois remained silent, let the silence lengthen between them. Stall, she reminded herself.
"Are you comfortable?" Lex inquired politely.
She nodded.
"Very good. Don't you want to ask why you've been brought here?"
"I figured you were going to tell us," Lois said. "I thought the gun was a bit melodramatic, but when someone pulls one on me, I don't ask questions."
"As always, a woman of rare intelligence," Lex said. "My dear, I wish it hadn't been necessary, but once I realized that the Superman who scooped you up last night was the thing I created, I began to add a few things together."
Lois's heart leaped treacherously in her chest and began to pound more vigorously, but she gave no outward sign of her reaction to this most unwelcome news. "What the dickens are you talking about?" she said.
"The thing that scooped you up last night," Lex said, with false patience. "It was my creation. Don't pretend you don't know it, Lois. The differences become apparent fairly quickly."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said. "What do you mean, 'your creation'?"
Lex raised his brows. "My dear, you aren't stupid, so don't pretend you are. I repeat: the thing I created. My Superman. He's a child in all but body. The way he abducted you just as you were stepping into my limousine was not the behavior of Superman. Once I realized that, the rest was obvious."
She wished he would stop calling her his dear, but didn't comment. Instead, it might be time to admit a little knowledge. "The imposter? *You're* behind him?"
He frowned. "Of course I am. I realized, of course, that you knew when I discovered the theft."
"*What* theft? Lex, you're talking in riddles!"
"The theft of the lock of hair," he said, patiently. "And, of course, of the Kryptonite. There was only one way a thief could get in here without leaving a trace, open my vault and take those two items, and there was only one person who would want them: Superman. You paved the way for him very cleverly, didn't you -- with that little performance last night. What I would like to know is how long have the two of you been working with him against me -- and where is my clone?"
"'Clone'?" Lois said, incredulously. "What the *hell* are you talking about, Lex?"
"The Superman imposter, of course, as you know. I have to give you credit, my dear. No one but Lois Lane could have figured it out." He regarded her with what she could swear was open admiration. "A phone call to Mrs. Doyle Alexander confirmed it, of course -- that the Daily Planet had inquired about the theft of the lock of hair. That was when I *knew* that you had put the pieces together." He smiled at her. "What were you going to do with the information, Lois? How did you intend to prove such a wild story?"
At least, she thought, he apparently hadn't realized that she and Clark had figured out that Leek was his accomplice. She shut her mouth tightly. Lex watched her with an amused smile. "You see," he said, "I'm not quite so stupid as you thought. I suppose that with anyone else, I would simply have you killed. That is, no doubt, what I *should* do, but I don't really want to."
She felt her eyes widen. His smile broadened slightly. "Where is my clone, Lois?"
She shrugged. "I have no idea. I haven't seen either him or Superman since last night."
"Apparently, neither has anyone else," Lex said. "One of the things Superman stole was the Kryptonite. I imagine it was quite a surprise to him when he opened the box, so perhaps I don't need to worry about him anymore. And, of course, the clone hasn't long to live, so I may be unnecessarily concerned. In any case, you and your partner here are my one remaining problem, now." He studied her with that faint smile. "I have a bargain to offer you."
"A bargain! What are you talking about?"
He stood and moved out to stand beside his desk. "Come here."
Lois didn't budge. He smiled and extended a hand. "I'm not going to hurt you unless you force me to. Mr. Kent, however, is another matter. His continued health and safety depend on you. Come here."
She cast an uncertain look at Clark and got to her feet. Lex took her hand and led her to the French windows.
"I want you to take a final look at Metropolis, because this is the last time either of you will see it."
"What does that mean?" she demanded.
"I've been in love with you for months," he said simply. "The incident with Miranda's pheromone brought it to my attention, of course. I admired your intelligence and courage, and naturally your beauty, but it wasn't until then that I realized how unique you were, and knew that I wanted you for my wife."
Lois stared at him in shock. He didn't seem to notice. "I can't, however, allow you to remain free to work against me," he continued. "You're far too dangerous. I know that you don't love me. If anything, your preference is for Mr. Kent." He glanced at Clark, and to her astonishment, she saw sheer hatred cross his features for just an instant. "However, that doesn't have to be a barrier."
"What on Earth are you talking about?"
He ignored the interruption. "If I can't have your love," he continued, "I can at least have *you*, so I propose a bargain."
"*What* bargain?"
His smile had returned. "You will become my wife, Lois. Tonight we'll fly via my private jet, to my fortress in the Alps, and you will live out the rest of your life there -- as my wife."
"You're out of your mind!"
"And," he continued, as if she hadn't spoken, "if you do this, I will allow Mr. Kent to live. Not only live, but to live in luxury, and more importantly, to remain healthy."
"*What*?"
"Mr. Kent goes with us," he said, and the smile disappeared. "You'll be allowed to see him once a day to assure yourself of his continued good health. But if you defy me, or attempt to escape --" He paused for emphasis. "Killing him won't be necessary," he finished. "A great many things can be done to a human being without killing him. Do you understand me, Lois?" He looked into her eyes, and now all signs of amusement had vanished. "*That* is my bargain."
Lois stared back at him, appalled. Lex smiled again. "Why don't you and Mr. Kent step out on the balcony and discuss this," he said, pleasantly. "Enjoy the sunlight, because you'll never see it again, and bear in mind that if either of you raises your voice to call for Superman, Mr. Kent will be dead before he arrives."
**********
Clark listened in silence as Luthor laid out his plan. The man had to be insane, he thought as he made his way slowly to the French windows. Insane or obsessed. Lois followed him out and Luthor seated himself once more in the desk chair, and swiveled around so he could watch their every move without turning his head. Behind Luthor, Nigel St. John stood silent and expressionless, fingering the .38.
Neither tried to close the French windows. Lois threw an uncertain glance at Luthor, then leaned her forearms on the stone wall of the balcony.
"How are you feeling?" Her voice was pitched so low that it couldn't have been heard five feet away.
Clark leaned on the wall next to her. "Normal."
"I'm going to accept his bargain," she said. "Stall, until --"
It was the logical and reasonable thing to do, he realized. It would keep them both alive and healthy until his powers returned and he could turn the tables on Luthor, but the whole idea went against the grain. The streak of possessiveness that he had become aware of the night Brian had kissed Lois raised its hackles in helpless protest. "Lois --"
"Clark, it's the only way to get us out of this," she said.
He glanced over his shoulder. Luthor had risen to his feet and was strolling casually toward them. He stepped out on the balcony.
"Have you decided?" he asked politely.
Lois opened her mouth to reply when another element was added to the equation.
There was a scuffling of feet and the sound of raised voices in the hall beyond the study doors, and William Henderson, accompanied by four uniformed officers, stepped into the room, weapons drawn.
"Drop it, St. John!" Henderson barked.
Nigel's .38 fell to the carpet with a muffled thud.
Two officers moved forward to cuff the unresisting butler, but Henderson was striding past him toward the trio on the balcony, his own police special in his hand. "Lex Luthor, you're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney ..."
Luthor didn't pause. He must, Clark realized later, have known at that instant that the game was up, for he grabbed Lois by the waist and swung her in front of him. Clark saw his partner try to break free, but Luthor countered the martial arts move without effort. Somehow, he was holding a small pistol of his own, though in the confusion Clark hadn't seen him draw it, and he pressed it to Lois's temple. Henderson stopped in mid-step, and Clark froze in place.
"Keep back, Inspector." For all the drama of the situation, Luthor's voice was inhumanly calm.
"Let her go, Luthor," Henderson said. "You can't get away."
Luthor's lips stretched in a humorless smile. "On the contrary," he said, "There's still one way out." He swung one leg over the stone wall, still holding Lois tightly against him. She made a convulsive attempt to escape, but he clamped his arm around her. "Lex Luthor will not live in a cage," he said.
In an instant, he had swung his other leg over the wall. Lois cried out. Clark leaped forward, grasping for her, and Luthor pushed himself away from the wall, dragging Lois after him.
Clark was off-balance, all of his weight thrown into his desperate lunge for Lois, and he had barely grasped her arm when the sudden jerk yanked him forward. He somersaulted over the barrier; then he was falling, trying instinctively to fly, without results. He heard Lois scream, and insanely, Lex Luthor's triumphant laugh. The sounds were whipped away on the wind as they plunged helplessly toward the pavement two hundred stories below.
**********
tbc
