Hi,

Once again, I'm apologizing for being a little late, but I'm afraid it gets worse. I will not be able to post next Monday. My husband and I are going to visit my father-in-law, who needs a small operation to correct his sight. Nothing too serious, but we felt we should be there to support him as he's quite an old man now.

It's a long journey, and one which is difficult since my husband is disabled, so we felt we should take our time on traveling. We'll be away for a week.

I thought it best to let my readers know that this story is not about to disappear. Hopefully, you'll wait around for the next posting.

*****

Previously in My Wife The Boss ...

What was so difficult about opening a bank account? He only had to fill out a form ... but that meant details, and what if they asked him something he couldn't remember? They'd think he was some kind of con artist.

This was crazy! He remembered most things now. He was a grown man and he shouldn't be anxious, though, by rights, he and Lois were husband and wife and they should have a joint account. He was wrong to have kept putting off Lois' offer to go together, feeling as if she were treating him like a child. And who could blame her? He wasn't exactly acting like an adult here.

Yes, being here was wrong. It was very unlikely he'd know anyone who worked at this bank now, and if he had he'd known them as Superman not Clark Kent. He started to leave, promising himself he'd arrange a time with Lois to organize his finances. Yet as he did so, a soft sizzling sound penetrated his brain, while his nose twitched at a strange noxious smell. He swung back and in one fluid motion was moving as fast as he possibly could, shouting a warning, but his voice was strangled by an earsplitting boom.

*****

Continued ...

Lois pushed her way through the assembled press core and rubberneckers, cursing aloud at those who impeded her passage.

“Hey, Lois,” one of her rivals called. “Didn't know you were back on the streets ... and how about waiting your turn like the rest of us.”

She sent the guy a dagger-edged stare and yelled back as she continued to fight her way through. “You're right, Larry. I'm not back on the beat, but I still have no intention of waiting around like you other poor schmucks. Never did, never will.”

With some fast footwork, a little use of her elbows, and sheer determination Lois reached the police tape, only to find herself confronted by a fresh-faced cop, who looked as if he was more suited to a Boy Scout uniform than that of the MPD. Lois was ready and flashed her press pass.

“I'm sorry, ma'am, but I have instructions to keep everyone out, even the press. I'm sure the detective in charge might have a few words to say later, but until then, you're goin' to have to stay behind the barricade.”

Lois glanced at his badge, then started to speak, trying to stay calm and reasonable.“Officer Kaplinksy, I might be a member of the press, but I'm also Clark Kent's wife and I received a call about him.”

The policeman paled; he was obviously aware of the name. “Wait right here, please, and I'll get someone to talk to you.”

With that he strode off, clearly unaware of the reputation of the woman he left behind. Seconds later, Lois had ducked under the barrier and was hurrying toward the broken door of the bank, dodging the glass that scattered the pavement. If this was another bomb, it was certainly bigger than the preceding ones. And all she'd been told was her husband had been involved in an explosion. Just when she was getting a handle on her concerns for Clark, 'this' had to happen! She'd been certain of it all along.

Someone was out to get him.

She bypassed a couple of uniformed cops who were busily questioning the people she surmised were the uninjured staff and customers, and saw Chris talking with a uniformed security man. At least one of her reporters was on the spot ... and if Chris was working, instead of hovering over his injured partner, then it had to mean Clark was OK.

Didn't it?

When she reached the door, she opened it only a crack, in the hope that she'd remain unnoticed, and sneaked inside. Her jaw dropped as she took in the scene. The glass barrier behind which the tellers normally sat was shattered and, though the heavy oak counter was still in one piece, the office area was a jumbled mess of overturned desks and chairs.

She walked slowly, careful not to disturb the evidence, or to interfere with the investigative and forensic teams, who were dressed in white coveralls. Looking around, she spotted a paramedic hovering over someone sitting in a chair. Gingerly, she moved in their direction and her heart skipped a beat as she recognized her husband. He was safe. Unhurt.

No, strike that. He wasn't completely unscathed. So that answered the invulnerability question. She sped up and arrived at Clark's side, her heart skipping another beat as she took in the cuts and bruises on his face ... his torn clothes. The paramedic seemed intent on removing a piece of glass from one of the larger cuts which ran diagonally down Clark's cheek, just below his right eye. Lois couldn't restrain a groan as the sliver came free with a rush of blood which the medic quickly staunched. But her moan had attracted attention.

With a quick glance over his shoulder, the paramedic spoke up. “Miss, I'm sorry, but you shouldn't be in here. We're very busy and I've no idea how you got through the police cordon.”

Clark's eyes opened wide as he looked up at Lois and he tried to smile, though it looked more like a grimace beneath the blood and bandaging.

“I was sent for,” Lois said quickly. “My name is Lois Kent and you're treating my husband.”

The medic blushed. “Oh, sorry. I didn't realize. But I still think you shouldn't be in here. We'll have Mr. Kent ready for transporting to Metro General in a few minutes. Perhaps you could wait outside.”

“Hospital? How bad is he?” Lois demanded, her gaze scanning Clark, searching for hidden wounds.

“I'm fine,” Clark finally managed to speak up, addressing Lois and the medic. “And could you both stop discussing me like I'm not here, please. I don't think I need to go to the hospital.”

“I don't agree.” The man in the green uniform stood his ground. “I've just removed a piece of glass from one of your cuts, but there could be some smaller particles embedded in your skin. And I really think this cut needs stitches, not to mention you should be checked over for other injuries.”

Clark was silent for a second or two, seeming to check the rest of his body. “Honestly, I don't think there are any hidden injuries. Maybe I'm a bit bruised and sore, but other than that, I'm OK.”

“You could have a concussion, Mr. Kent, or cracked a rib or two ... could even be some internal injuries. I strongly advise you to get the once-over at the ER.”

Lois' stomach lurched at the thought of Clark being hurt and decided to side with the paramedic. “Clark, maybe a quick trip to the hospital wouldn't be so bad.” She looked pointedly at him, trying to convey the fact that she didn't believe a perfunctory examination would discover anything untoward about his origin. For example, he didn't look like he'd need a blood transfusion, though the pad the medic was pressing to his cut cheek was glistening bright red. She decided to check. “You're bleeding a lot, Clark. Will he need a transfusion?” she asked, turning large questioning eyes to the medic.

“I don't think so, Mrs. Kent,” the man answered, smiling encouragingly. “I've been a medic for a year or two and I'm amazed at how few obvious injuries your husband's suffered. Don't be frightened by the amount of blood here.” The medic quickly replaced the pad with another clean one. “Facial and head injuries bleed a lot. It's probably not as bad as you think.”

“See, honey. No need for a visit to the ER.”

“I wouldn't say that exactly, Mr. Kent.” The medic refused to budge on his initial diagnosis.

There was a shout from across the bank, from behind a tangled, shredded pile of wood.

“Karl, can you give us a hand here?”

The medic looked up and quickly sized up the situation. “Mrs. Kent, do you think you could keep applying pressure to the wound here? My colleagues need my help with the other injured people.”

“Right,” Lois said, nodding her head and placing her fingers in the exact spot Karl's had been. “Is this right?”

“Exactly. I'll be back soon.”

“Clark,” Lois hissed, as soon as the medic was out of earshot. “What were you thinking?”

“I'm not sure I had time to think ... just that I could help.” Clark's voice sounded somewhat flat, resigned to a dressing down from his worried wife.

“Oh yes. Did you think you were Superman?”

Clark looked away, anywhere but at his wife. He swallowed painfully, then said softly, “Lo-is ...”

There was the sound of someone clearing his throat from behind them and Sergeant Peterson came into view. “I don't know about Superman, Mrs. Kent, but I'd certainly say a hero. If it hadn't been for your husband here, there would have been more serious casualties. He shouted a warning and knocked a couple of the staff out of the way. As it was, just the head teller who opened the package was seriously injured.”

Shooting Clark a quick glance which was appreciation mixed with a small part of irritation, Lois resorted to being a reporter. “What happened here, Peterson?”

“I'm not sure I can divulge any details, Ms. Lane, what with you being from the press.”

“Come on, Sergeant,” she cajoled. “James Olsen tells me you're a friend of his. Didn't you promise to keep him in the loop? Clark's his partner on this serial bombing case, and since he seems to be one of the victims, I'd say he has more of a right to be kept informed.”

“Serial case?” Peterson's eyebrows raised. “We haven't found any evidence to link this bombing with any earlier cases ...”

“Not yet, Jed.” Clark was still looking a little pale underneath the coating of blood, though his voice sounded stronger. “But you can't persuade me you don't suspect this could be the same perpetrator.”

The Sergeant grinned and Lois found herself liking his smile. She'd met the younger man once before when he'd come to The Planet to speak with James and she'd been grateful for his co-operation with her top reporter, co-operation which had no doubt helped James break a few cases and scoop The Planet's rivals.

“I'll level with you, Kent. I'm not a believer in coincidences, and I'm sure forensics will find similarities to the other explosions.” The detective stared around the scarred interior of the bank, his open expression darkening with anger. “Though judging by the blast damage, I'd say our perp is definitely upping the ante.”

Clark nodded. “I'd agree.”

Lois had been distracted by the policeman, but Clark's head movement dislodged her hand on the dressing. “Clark, stay still.”

“Don't worry,” he quickly assured her, his brow creased in deep lines. “I won't try moving my head again.”

“Got a headache?” she asked, archly, even as her free hand gently stroked his hair, robbing the sting from her voice.

“You could say that.” Clark raised his hand to rub the bridge of his nose while letting his eyes close. The residue of explosive and smoke hanging in the air stung his eyes. Then he sat up quickly. “Honey, where are my glasses?”

Lois looked around, but the Sergeant was quicker. “Would this be them?” he asked, retrieving the mangled frame from a corner of the room. He returned, his gloved index finger poking through one missing lens. “Sorry, but I doubt these ones will be any good to you now.”

“The glass is probably what was embedded in your cheek,” Lois muttered, holding her hand out for the destroyed frames.

“Sorry, Mrs. Kent, but anything in this bank is evidence. These glasses need to be checked over by forensics.”

“Then you might want to get the glass from Clark's cheek from the paramedic.” she snapped back, anxiety sharpening her voice.

She hated the thought of anything belonging to Clark being in the hands of people she didn't know. Who knew what they could discover if they looked closely enough. Of course, they would have no reason to look too closely. They'd do regular DNA tests to exclude traces of the victims' from any that might belong to the criminal. Not that this criminal had ever been so sloppy to actually leave any traces of himself behind and she doubted that he'd suddenly gotten careless.

Lois couldn't help but announce her thoughts. “You've never found any forensic clues before ... unless you're keeping quiet about it.”

Peterson shrugged his shoulders. “Unfortunately, you're right.” He stayed silent for a second, studying Clark. “You know, the only common denominator in these three cases is you, Mr. Kent.”

Lois turned around so quickly, she almost lost her balance. Clark put a hand on her waist to steady her. “What are you saying?” she demanded.

“I'm saying that your husband was involved in each of the incidents. He was at the scene of the last one and this and, by his own admission, you and he were in the vicinity of the street where the truck blew up ... and he had another connection to the Metro Bus company.”

A loud snort escaped Lois. “A very tenuous one. He was writing a simple page-filler article about the bus rate hikes.” So intent was Lois on refuting Peterson's suggestion, she didn't notice Clark blanch. “And I assigned him that story before the truck exploded. He knew nothing about any bombs at that time. No one did.”

“Apart from the bomber, Mrs. Kent,” Peterson replied, his hackles obviously rising at Lois' ferocity.

Clark turned his attention to the sergeant, his brows raised incredulously. “Come on, Jed. You can't seriously believe I'm the culprit here.”

Another silence stretched out as Jed watched the medics working on the injured, of which there weren't many, thanks to the actions of the man sitting in front of him. A pale pink color tinted his cheeks.

“Actually, no. I can't see why you would bomb a target, then show up to try to save your victims and get yourself hurt in the process. It doesn't make sense. Whoever is doing this is keeping a very low profile, and giving us almost nothing to go on.”

“What about the voice recording?” Lois asked in a more friendly tone, hoping that cutting Peterson some slack would gain her some information.

“Our experts checked it over, but they got nothing definitive,” Jed replied, evasively.

“Jed, you did say you'd pass information to Jim, and I'm his partner here.” Clark decided to try where Lois had failed, but he attracted Lois' attention once more. In her eager pursuit of the story, she'd forgotten the compression pad, but now she was pressing on his cheek with renewed vengeance. “Lois, that hurts!”

“I'm sorry, but I'm only obeying instructions,” she explained loftily, as if he were ten years old. “You don't want to bleed all over the bank.”

“OK, honey, but I doubt I'm going to bleed to death.” He offered her a rueful smile, while his eyes relayed a silent message. He understood some of Lois' concerns but believed them to be groundless. The police already had the broken lens coated with his blood, and the DNA tests done for elimination purposes wouldn't highlight his strange origins, or so he'd once been told by Bernard Klein ... if his memory served him correctly, which wasn't a given. Only it was too late to worry about that. He turned back to Jed. “Can't you give us something?”

Again the detective seemed to think it over, then his stance relaxed. “I guess I owe you, but this isn't for publication. Not yet. We don't want to give this guy any clues about what we know ... or don't know, in this case. The Avenger disguised his voice the old-fashioned way with a muffler. Our guys managed to clean it up a bit, but all they could tell me was that the voice is definitely male, with no discernible accent, though he probably comes from New Troy and maybe even Metropolis.”

“That narrows it down somewhat,” Lois said derisively.

“What about background noise?” Clark's instincts were now on high alert.

“Nothing specific.” Jed sighed heavily. “They think it might have been recorded out of doors, or near an open door or window. Oh, and they heard a cat mewing somewhere close by.”

“Oh, so you're looking for a local male, fresh air, cat-loving freak!” Lois gave a tight grin and shifted her stance to lean against Clark's shoulder.

“One who has a grudge against bus travel, schools and banks,” Jed added.

“Or maybe the delivery services,” Clark offered thoughtfully. “I doubt the last two explosions were mistakes, so maybe the first one wasn't. The package was addressed to Metro Bus, but maybe it didn't go off early ... maybe it was meant for Speedy Deliveries.”

“You could have a point there, Clark,” Lois said, standing erect again. “Did you follow up on that Sergeant?”

“We're still checking up on every aspect of these incidents, Mrs. Kent,” Jed informed her quickly, but there was something rather sheepish about the way his eyes wouldn't meet her gaze.

“That's funny. Clark got the impression you weren't taking that first bombing too seriously.”

“LO-is!” Clark warned.

“OK. I admit that we didn't think too much about the truck. I mean the blast hardly created a dent.” The sergeant stood tall again, regaining his confidence. “But I can assure you that we're not about to make the same mistake again. This guy, whoever he is has bombed a school and a bank, indiscriminately, and I don't intend to let him get away with it. We'll catch him, Mrs. Kent, and make sure he's put away where he can't do more damage. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.”

“Jim and I would like to help you find him,” Clark said, stopping Peterson from marching off. “We won't print anything you don't want us to, but the more people you have on this investigation the better. And, if you gave us a copy of that recording, Lois and I could ask Jor-El to take a listen to it. That's if it doesn't break any of your rules. He might not find anything extra, but it's worth a try.”

It took only a second or two for Jed to answer. He'd had other cases where James Olsen had been an asset and Clark Kent had once had quite a reputation. “It's a deal. But we share information ... and nothing goes to print until I give the word.” He looked pointedly at Lois.

“Deal!” she answered, smiling sweetly now that The Planet had a way in. “Why does everyone think I'm not a team player?”

“Because you like to be on top,” Clark reminded her, grinning back a little crookedly. The muscles of his cut cheek refused to co-operate for now.

Peterson's gaze passed between the two Kents, reminded of the tales James Olsen had recounted about the legendary Lane and Kent. With an amused shrug he wandered off, but after a couple of paces he turned. His voice lowered. “Oh, and I'll get a copy of the tape sent over to The Planet. But that's just between us.” He made a small circle with his hands, then left them alone.

“Lois, do you think you could stop pressing that thing against my face so hard,” Clark said plaintively. “I'm sure it's stopped bleeding now.”

Bending down she whispered in his ear, though there was no one paying close enough attention to them to hear. “You have stopped bleeding. It's what I was trying to tell you earlier.”

“Oh, I thought you were worried about someone checking up on my blood.”

“No need to worry about that. Bernie says that the tests for elimination purposes wouldn't find any anomalies and they destroy the samples afterwards.”

“So, I didn't dream that conversation.” Clark sounded relieved. “Well, if I've stopped bleeding, maybe we should go find Karl and tell him we're leaving. I've already given my statement to one of the uniformed cops. They want me to go down to the station tomorrow to check it over and sign it.”

“Clark, we can't leave,” Lois placed her hand on his shoulder, stopping him from rising. “Maybe the very fact that you've stopped bleeding is ... unusual.”

“Then what do you suggest? Slashing my cheek again?”

“Don't be silly ... and it might have stopped bleeding, but the cut is still pretty deep. It might need stitches.”

“It will heal.”

“You don't know that. You're hardly invulnerable. And I hope you remember that the next time you try any heroics!” Lois might have been whispering but there was no doubting the force of her argument.

“Calm down, Lois. I just did what any ordinary man would have done.”

“Well, you're not an ordinary man. You're my man, and I don't want to lose you again.” Tears sparkled on her eyelashes and threatened to fall.

“I'm sorry, honey.” Clark stood up quickly and pulled Lois into his arms. “I didn't mean to make you worry. I just forget sometimes ...”

“Mr. Kent, I hope you're not leaving.” Karl the medic returned and blocked the couple's path to the door. “That cheek really needs medical attention, even if there are no other injuries.”

“Are you sure?” Clark asked. “Lois seems to have stopped the bleeding.”

Karl looked a little skeptical, but he reached over and eased the pad away from the wound. “Good, that's good. But if you don't plan on going to the ER, at least let me put some butterfly stitches over that cut.”

Lois nodded in firm agreement. “That's a good idea. Go ahead,” she said, while pushing Clark back down onto the chair. “And if it would make you feel better, Karl, Clark can go see his own doctor this evening.”

“I'd recommend that he does, Mrs. Kent. And if he feels dizzy or sick, you should get him to the emergency room immediately.”

“Oh, I'll make sure of it.” Lois set her mouth in a tight line and folded her arms as she watched her husband being taken care of. Clark was going to visit Bernie, even if she had to drive him there herself.

*****

TBC ...