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Reminder from Part 45

Clark absently logged onto his computer, his mind still pondering the meeting with Bobby Bigmouth.

The Boss - the truth is right in front of you.

What could *that* mean?

Last week, Mayson had reported on the death of an inmate in the Metropolis Prison. Security cameras had captured the incident, and the perpetrator - a fellow prisoner - had been charged. It had seemed straightforward - two angry men had become embroiled in a fight, and it had gotten fatally out of hand.

But - according to Bobby Bigmouth - the victim, on his deathbed, had mumbled, "The truth is right in front of you." When asked by a prison nurse to repeat it, he'd said, "The Boss - the truth is ..." and had then passed away.


From Part 57

Clark flew from light to darkness over the Pacific. It would be almost midnight when he arrived in Melbourne. He hoped Lois would still be awake. He was - as always - looking forward to being with her. Every moment away from her felt as if something vital was missing from his life.

But his heart went cold at the thought of telling her about Mayson.

He landed in her unit, and Lois looked up from the book she was reading. She sprang from the couch, her face alight with excitement. "Clark!" she said. She put her hands on his arms and grinned jubilantly. "Guess what? I've worked out who the Boss is."


Part 58

Clark stared at Lois, mesmerised. She grinned at him - her eyes shining with exhilaration and her mouth so totally kissable that it drove every other thought from his mind. "You've what?"

"Lex Luthor is the Boss."

The shockwaves from that bold statement were enough to wrench his attention from his wife's lips. "Luthor? Lois, that's ... that's ... he's a businessman and a very generous man. He contributes to many charities and -"

"So he takes the money illegally and gives some of it back publicly so everyone thinks he's a good guy?"

"Ahhh ..." Clark shook his head, trying to grasp this startling development. "Lois, I'm not sure about this."

"You said you didn't trust him."

"I don't," Clark admitted. "But that doesn't mean I think he's the Boss."

"Remember the prisoner who was killed in jail?" Lois said. "Remember what he said just before he died? 'The truth is right in front of you.'"

Clark nodded. "Yeah, I remember that. I've never been able to figure out what it means."

Lois put her hands on his shoulders. "Take me to Metropolis, and I'll show you."

"No," Clark said sharply, as the mudslide that was Mayson Drake tumbled into his mind. "You can't go to Metropolis."

The sharpness of his voice drove the triumph from Lois's face. "Why not?"

"Because Mayson knows you were in the library on Wednesday."

Her hand covered her mouth, and her eyes grew wide with alarm. "Mayson *saw* me?"

"You saw Mayson?" he fired back before he could stop himself.

Lois didn't flinch. She dropped her hand from her mouth but didn't return it to his shoulder. "Mayson was in the library. When I saw her, I hid between the shelves - that's how I heard the blokes talking about the Brownlow."

"You didn't tell me Mayson was there," Clark said quietly.

"As you've already said, there wasn't much time when we met at your apartment after I returned from the library."

"Is that the only reason you didn't tell me?"

"No," she said, and her eyes regarded him with an expression that bordered on playful. "I knew you'd worry."

"Lo-is," Clark said. She hadn't smiled exactly, but her manner had begun to loosen the cords that had been pulling tight across his chest since his confrontation with Mayson. "You should have told me."

"Sorry," she said, looking out from under the fall of her hair. "But I didn't think she'd seen me."

"It seems she did," Clark said, being very careful to match her tone.

Lois vehemently shook her head, and her hand landed on his chest. "No," she insisted. "If she'd seen me, I'm sure she wouldn't have slunk away without challenging me."

"It's not important how she knows," Clark said. "We have to deal with the fact that she does."

"You told me that Mayson gets good stories, right?" Lois asked.

"Yeah."

"So, she'd be skilled at drawing conclusions. She might not *know* for sure that I was in the library. She might think it's a possibility - for whatever reason - so she threw it at you just to see how you'd react."

"She knows you've been on leave. She rang the Herald Sun."

Lois grimaced suddenly. "Ugghhh," she groaned. "Mary Daniels."

"Who?"

"Someone calling herself Mary Daniels rang Browny and asked for me. He thought she was chasing info about the Brownlow result - but I bet it was Mayson Drake. The initials are the same."

"Does Browny have caller ID on his phone?"

"Not on his desk phone," Lois said. "But none of that matters - she *can't* prove I was in Metropolis. You just keep telling her that I'm in Melbourne, and we'll be OK." She smiled reassuringly. "We'll be OK."

Clark wasn't convinced, but they'd spent enough time discussing Mayson Drake. "What did you want to show me in Metropolis?"

Lois grinned. "Actually, I wanted to go to Mayson's apartment."

"Why?" Clark asked as his apprehension flooded back. "The opal?"

"No," Lois assured him. "Nothing to do with that. And I didn't want to go to her apartment per se, but to the top of her building ... where you left me when you went to throw the green rock into space."

"OK," Clark said slowly.

"From the top of that building, if you look across the city, there's something right in front of you."

"What?"

"Luthor's building. It's there ... in your face. I remember thinking it was like he was panicked that someone wouldn't notice his wealth."

"*That's* why you think Luthor is the Boss?"

She nodded. "Luthor's rich. The Boss has to be rich. Is there anyone else in Metropolis who flaunts his wealth like Luthor does?"

Clark thought for a moment. "No," he admitted.

"The proceeds of his crime are right in front of you," Lois said. "Just like the prisoner said."

"Lois," Clark said. "You do know we can't print this, don't you?"

She chuckled. "Of course I know we can't print this," she said. "But that doesn't mean we can't keep digging, keep asking questions, keep making connections. In fact, I think we should pay Mr Luthor a visit."

"We should?"

"Yes. As Superman and Ultra Woman. I think we should ask him some questions about the hidden cameras in the honeymoon suite of his big opulent hotel."

"He won't admit to knowing anything."

"No, but we might be able to see something, notice something while we are there." She smiled up at him, and her forefinger tapped on his chest. "How do you feel about a little *super*-surveillance?"

"Ahhh ..."

Lois grinned. "You've done it, haven't you?" she cried. "You've used your super-skills to help solve cases?"

"I have on occasion," he admitted.

"Brilliant," she said happily. "That's gonna make this so much easier."

"We can't go now. We can't risk Mayson -"

"*That's* about Clark and Lois. *This* is about Superman and Ultra Woman." Lois took him by the hand and led him to the couch. Once there, she pushed him to a sitting position. "Get comfortable," she said.

Clark did as he was told.

Lois knelt on his lap, one leg on the outside of each of his thighs. She smiled at him, and it felt as if one smile from her could chase away all the demons wrought by Mayson Drake.

"We'll be OK," she said softly.

"What if May -"

Lois slid his glasses from his face and placed them on the lamp stand. Then she put her arms around his neck and slumped onto his chest as her fingers dived through his hair.

In her embrace, the dread that had been threatening to erupt inside him slowly subsided. She said nothing - just held him and stroked his hair. He eased his hand under Lois's sweater and rubbed up and down the skin of her back.

From where her head lay on his shoulder, her mouth periodically kissed his neck. He felt her body relax against him.

"Are you going to sleep?" he said quietly. "It's nearly midnight for you."

"No," she said. "I'm just enjoying being with you. I'm letting our togetherness seep into both of us so we will be able to decide what to do next."

"Lois, I don't think I should stay here tonight."

He'd expected she would lurch from her position on his shoulder and insist it wasn't necessary that they change their routine. Instead, she calmly said, "Why not?"

"Because I think I should get back to Metropolis. If Mayson is airing her suspicions publicly, I want to be there to try to counteract them before they become a wildfire of rumour and gossip."

Lois's hand continued to massage tranquillity through his hair. "Even if she thinks she saw me in the library, she can't prove it," Lois said. "There are no official records saying I was in Metropolis."

"Once Mayson thinks she has a story, she doesn't let go easily."

"You once told me that she got up at a function and announced she was engaged to you."

"She did."

"So other people know about her obsession with you?"

"Yes."

"If she pushes this too much, she's going to look like a whack-job woman who can't accept that you've moved on to someone else. Anything she says is going to lack credibility."

Her hand, her touch, her presence was bringing perspective to Clark. "You think that if she claims something that is highly unlikely - such as you being in Metropolis - no one will believe her?"

"She thinks she saw me in the library on Wednesday afternoon Metropolis time," Lois said. "Just a few hours later, I was in Browny's office. Soon after that, I had coffee with Seb. Then, I had a meeting with a detective called Ben and two AFL officials. I have witnesses who will confirm that it isn't possible I was in Metropolis when Mayson thought she saw me."

"Without Superman, that is," Clark said.

"But no one knows there is a link between Lois Lane and Superman," Lois said. "Does Mayson have photographs?"

"She didn't say."

"I suspect she didn't see me, but that someone told her I was there or described me to her later."

"What do you think we should do?' Clark asked.

"I think you should stay here for a while. Just a couple of hours - try to get some sleep maybe. Then I think you should go back to the Planet and treat Mayson as if she's nothing more relevant than a woman who has made some bizarre claims."

"You think this could just pass over?"

"I hope so." Lois straightened off his shoulder and looked down at him with a smile. "It'll be OK, big guy," she said. "We're together - and together, we can deal with anything Mayson throws at us."

"I'm sorry I sounded angry that you didn't tell me Mayson was at the library."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"I guess we're both still getting used to this whole marriage thing."

"We are," Lois agreed. She smiled cheerfully. "But think about how good we'll be at it when Lois and Clark get married."

Clark smiled. "Can I take you to bed?"

Lois sighed happily. "Mr Kent - you can take me anywhere you want to."

||_||

Mayson arrived at the library at seven minutes to ten. There were librarians inside, but the doors weren't yet open to the public.

Five minutes later, Albert emerged from a cab and sauntered towards her.

"Hi, Albert," she called when he was still fifteen yards from her.

He said nothing until he was standing next to her. "Do you want the information I had for you on Wednesday?" he asked.

"No," she said. "That story is dead and buried." She took the printout from her bag, unfolded it, and held it towards Albert. "Is this the woman you saw in the library on Wednesday? The one using the microfiche scanner?"

Albert accepted the paper and stared at it for an agonisingly long time.

"Well?" Mayson said impatiently.

"It's not a good photo."

"Could it be her?"

"It *could* be," Albert said. "I would say it was more likely than not to be her, but I couldn't make an unequivocal identification."

"I pay you for precise and accurate information."

"And I give you information as accurate as I have," he said. "When I'm not sure, I say so."

"If you had to make a call one way or the other - is it her?"

"If I had to make a call, I would say that it is her, and the cap and casual clothes I saw were attempts at a disguise," Albert said. "Or it could be a close relative - such as a sister - or it could be a complete coincidence that two women look so much alike."

Mayson snatched back the paper. "Thanks, Albert," she muttered as she turned back to the road and hailed a cab.

||_||

Mayson should have gone back to the Planet, but instead she turned in the opposite direction. She had been so sure that pedantic and observant Albert would be able to give her a definite answer. *And* she had been sure that his answer would confirm that the woman in the library was Lois Lane.

Disappointed and discouraged, Mayson trudged into her apartment.

She had no proof.

And without proof, no one was going to believe anything she said about Kent or his floozy.

From her bag, her cell rang, and Mayson jumped. Perhaps it was Albert calling to say that, on further reflection, he could make a positive identification.

"Mayson Drake."

"Ah, Mayson," came an oily voice she immediately recognised as belonging to Lex Luthor. "How are you this beautiful morning?"

He sounded like he was high on something. Probably power, she thought bitterly. "I am well, Mr Luthor," she said crisply.

"Mayson," he said. "I was sure we had progressed beyond such formalities. Please, call me Lex."

"Mrs Cox called me earlier this morning with an offer of a date," Mayson said. "I made my answer perfectly clear."

"Is there a reason you are no longer open to my invitations?"

"I am a career woman. I don't have the time for frivolities."

"It isn't because of the unfortunate incident at the wedding, is it?"

"No," she said quickly. "Of course not."

"Please call me if you reconsider."

"Thank you, Mr Luthor." Mayson disconnected the call and turned on her computer. For all of Kent's insistence that he was going to Australia this weekend to see Lane, Mayson couldn't shake the belief that he was hiding something.

And she was not going to rest until she had uncovered his secret.

||_||

Clark kissed Lois before leaving.

She stirred and murmured, "Bye, big guy. See you tomorrow."

"I love you, Lois."

She smiled sleepily.

At the Planet, Clark exited the elevator and glanced across to Mayson's desk. To his relief, it was empty. He crossed the newsroom and went into Perry's office.

"Back so soon?" the editor commented. "Henderson is impressed with you. With the information you provided, they've got somewhere new to take the St John case."

"Has Mayson said anything to you?"

Perry stared astutely at him. "Why? Is she bothering you again?"

Clark made an indefinite gesture.

"She is," Perry guessed with a sigh. "I had hoped that was over. With you away in Australia and then being so obviously enamoured with Lois, I had hoped Mayson had moved on. She's been going out with Lex Luthor, you know."

"Yeah," Clark said. "I'm not sure about that match either."

"It's better than her pestering you," Perry said darkly. "When do you fly out?"

"Saturday morning."

"Tomorrow?"

"Ah ... yeah." Sometimes it was hard to remember which day it was.

"And you are going to return Wednesday?"

"Yup."

"Take a couple of extra days."

Clark didn't reply.

Perry grinned. "Take a couple of extra days," he repeated. "I can manage here - and hopefully you being out of the office for nearly a week will help Mayson realise how serious you are about Lois."

"I'm not sure, Perry."

"Why?" He chuckled. "Don't you think I can handle this ol' paper without your help anymore?"

Clark tried to smile. "It's not that - it's that if Mayson starts saying stuff - you know, like her announcement that we were engaged, I won't be here to defend myself."

Perry's eyes narrowed. "Do you really think anyone is going to believe one thing that woman says about you?"

"I ... "

Perry's grin exploded. "How about you take two weeks and come back married? That should send an appropriately definitive message to Mayson."

"Ah ... uhm ... ah ... I think Australian marriage rules have a waiting period."

"I was joking, Clark," Perry said.

"Oh. Sorry." Clark stepped towards the door. "I'll follow up the St John story and see if there is anything concrete from the drug link."

Clark left Perry's office. Mayson's desk was still unoccupied, and for the first time, he felt a wisp of optimism that her speculation would cause no further damage.

||_||

Mayson stared at the profile picture of Lois Lane, but there were still no answers to be found.

Her mind was numb from spinning in ever-decreasing circles. It was time to consider the absolutely ridiculous because trying to be logical had achieved nothing concrete.

What if ... what if Lois Lane was a career woman of the ilk of Mayson Drake? What if - despite being a football writer, which was a mammoth drawback to this scenario - she was a sophisticated woman who had laughed at Clark's clumsy attempts to seduce her?

Now *that* was amusing.

What if he'd picked the lock into her apartment and waited for her in her bed ... only to have to leave hours later because she had better things to do than be seduced by an American yokel?

It made for pleasant speculation, but it didn't help find the answer as to whether Lane had been in Metropolis.

Mayson copied the photo and enlarged it on her screen. That just made it grainier and more indistinct.

She reduced it again and used her mouse to draw wobbly glasses on the face. That didn’t have the absurd effect she had hoped for, so she clicked on 'undo', and the glasses disappeared.

What if ...

There had to be other - crazily irrational - theories.

What if Lois Lane had an evil twin sister who was in Metropolis to kill Kent for daring to chase after her sister?

What if Lois Lane had an even-more-evil twin sister who was in Metropolis to steal Kent for herself?

What if Kent ended up having to deal with *both* of them? That would be like a puppy being mauled by two hungry lionesses. Mayson would happily buy tickets to watch *that*.

What if there was only one Lois Lane ... And she flitted between Metropolis and Australia because she wasn't really a sports journalist - that was merely a cover, and a brilliantly effective one because who would ever think that a sports writer actually had a functioning brain? What if she was really a spy?

How could she get between Metropolis and Australia quickly? That wasn't hard - not now the world knew about Superman.

Perhaps ... Mayson giggled. What if ... what if Superman worked with this Australian spy and, as a favour for a friend, brought Lane to Metropolis so she could spy on Kent and make sure he wasn't cheating on her?

Or maybe Superman brought her for conjugal visits, perhaps?

Maybe *that* was why Clark had suddenly decided he wanted to work the late hours. He spent the mornings in bed with Lane during her hours of darkness.

Mayson grinned. Sometimes it was fun to imagine the impossible.

It gave her brain a pleasant change from always trying to find hard evidence that stupid people did stupid things.

Somewhat to her surprise, she felt no annoyance at the thought of Kent and Lane in bed together. He was passably good looking, but under his business suits probably lurked the body of an underdeveloped adolescent. She'd never really wanted Kent - she'd just wanted to prove that she could have him. She'd moved on to much greater prey.

Superman.

Her initial thoughts for use of the green rock had involved demanding he inform her about his activities so she could get exclusive stories. As time had passed, and she hadn't had the chance to talk with him, she had reviewed her ideas. It had been fun to flirt with him and watch Ultra Woman react like a jealous kitten.

Perhaps she could use the green rock to test Superman's commitment to his marriage.

Initially, his alienness had seemed creepy, but she had to admit that seeing him with Ultra Woman had shown him in a new light - which, Mayson realised, was probably exactly the effect they had hoped for.

Was the marriage even real?

What if Ultra Woman was little more than a prop? What if the wedding extravaganza had been only about showing how *human* the alien was?

Mayson had heard a rumour that the Star had been hoping for honeymoon pictures but there had been none.

If the marriage hadn't been consummated, it wasn't a marriage at all but merely a publicity stunt.

In the interview, they had been careful to avoid any background information about Ultra Woman. They'd said she was human, but that didn't narrow it down much.

She was obviously female - the suit had done little to conceal that.

And probably in her late twenties.

With an American accent.

Mayson wrinkled her nose as she tried to recall the exact intonation of Ultra Woman's voice. Her accent had been American - definitely not Southern, perhaps Midwest.

The large pink mask covered enough of her face to make identification an indefinite business.

But Mayson had seen her without the mask ... for the briefest second ... in the bathroom at the wedding. Mayson had come out of the stall and caught one glimpse of the bride in the mirror just prior to her replacing the mask.

Mayson closed her eyes and tried to recall that memory.

She gave up after a few seconds.

She had spent way too much time staring at the picture of Lois Lane - so much so that now Mayson couldn't visualise the image of Ultra Woman without it morphing into Lois Lane in a mask.

Mayson took the printout of the photo of Lane from her bag. With a red pen, she drew a mask on the face. She held up the now-crumpled piece of paper, and her breath erupted into shooting darts that careered through her lungs.

Ultra Woman stared back at her.