Growing Pains
by Ann McBride  <Aerm1@aol.com>
Rated PG-13
Submitted October 2000
_________________

Author's note:

I'd like to thank Nan and Adam for their invaluable assistance about 
certain medical procedures, and I'd like to thank Wendy Richards for 
her occasional comments on the story as it progressed.  There are no 
words to express my gratitude to LabRat, beta-reader extraordinaire, 
without whose advice and encouragement Growing Pains would have never 
seen the light of day.

All usual disclaimers apply.

************************************************************************

"Thanks, Bobby.  We'll see you then."  Lois Lane hung up the phone 
and turned to face her partner's desk.  The clear surface on it 
informed her that Clark had yet to come in to work.  "Where is he?" 
she wondered.  "Is he out doing Superman things?"

Ever since he had let her in on his secret, she had been able to not 
take it personally when he ran out on her.  But knowledge didn't 
always prevent frustration.  It seemed as if lately, every time she 
really needed to talk to him, he was nowhere to be found.  And right 
now, she had to let him know about the meeting she'd just set up with 
their favorite informant.  Sighing heavily, she turned her attention 
to the television monitors on the other side of the newsroom.  Maybe 
she'd catch a glimpse of him on a news channel.

LNN was showing a report of a horrific accident on the beltway.  A 
chain-reaction accident involving a dozen cars was, in fact, keeping 
Superman extremely busy.  There appeared to be a high number of 
serious injuries.  Lois gasped as she saw the grim expression on 
Superman's face.  He only ever got that detached, hard-jawed look 
when what he was dealing with was too horrible to contemplate. 
Later, he would obsess for hours about what he could have done 
differently to save more people.  At least, now that she knew that 
the Man of Steel was really Clark Kent, she could try to help him 
deal with the emotional aftermath of a less than perfect appearance 
as the Superhero.  Once again, Lois marveled at how Clark had been 
able to carry on as Superman before he had been able to vent his 
emotions with her.

A quick look at the clock showed Lois that the morning budget meeting 
was due to start in five minutes.  Somehow she didn't think Clark 
would make it on time.  From the looks of the accident, he was likely 
to be tied up for quite a while longer.  She wondered what excuse she 
should give this time when Perry noticed her partner's absence.  What 
had she said the last time?  Lois shrugged.  She didn't mind covering 
for Clark, but sometimes she understood why he had often resorted to 
incredibly ridiculous excuses for his absences in the past.  Neither 
one of them had much practice at not doing their homework.  "Hmm," 
she thought.  "Maybe I can say the dog ate his article, and he had to 
go get another one.  Nah, Perry would see right through that.  He 
knows Clark doesn't have a dog."  Coming up with plausible reasons 
for his non-appearance was often a challenge.  If she were lucky, 
Perry might not ask.  It did seem that their editor tended to 
question Clark's whereabouts less often if there were a publicized 
Superman feat on television.  Perhaps Perry had some suspicions about 
Clark's second job.  She turned her attention away from the 
television monitors and gathered her notes.

"Lois, where's Clark?"  Jimmy was at her elbow.

Lois jumped as the young photographer spoke.  "Jimmy, don't do that 
to me," she replied.  "It's too early in the morning to be startled 
like that."

Jimmy persisted.  "Where's Clark?  I need to talk to him."

"He's meeting a source.  He'll be in later."  That sounded plausible. 
Lois smiled to herself.  "Can *I* help you?"

"Ah, no, that's okay.  I just wanted to ask him something about 
women."  He paused for effect.  "I don't think you could help." 
Jimmy grinned, turned away, and headed for the conference room.

Lois glared at the researcher/photographer's retreating back, 
gathered her notes on their current investigation, and followed in 
his wake.

"Well, people, let's hear it.  What's the status on that 
investigation into Intergang, Lois?"  Perry White, editor-in-chief of 
the Daily Planet, opened the meeting.  He neglected to mention the 
empty seat beside her at the table.

"Chief, Clark and I have an appointment with a source in a couple of 
hours.  The source says he's got some information that could lead us 
to the top person in Intergang.  Other than that, though, we've been 
coming up with dead ends since that slimy lawyer was killed."

"You mean the one Clark thought was an attorney for Intergang?"

"Yes, Martin Snell."  Lois added under her breath, "The guy who 
worked for your friend, Bill Church."

"Well, keep on it."  Perry moved on to the next reporter.

Lois was left to listen with half an ear to the conversation flowing 
around her and wondered whether Clark would arrive at the Planet in 
time to go with her to see Bobby Bigmouth.  If he didn't show up, 
she'd have to go by herself.  Not that going alone was a problem, she 
thought; but especially since she and Clark had gotten closer, she 
much preferred to work with him.  Their styles were so complementary 
that together as a team they were infinitely better than either one 
of them solo.  Lois hoped that he would soon have the traffic 
accident under control.  Lois' heart skipped a beat as she felt an 
unobtrusive touch on her arm.  She looked up from her doodling on a 
note pad to see Clark sliding into the chair beside her.  The look in 
his eyes was bleak.

"Rough?" she whispered.

"Yeah.  I'll tell you about it later," he replied.

"Okay."

They turned their attention back to the announcements Perry was making.

"I mean it, people.  I want some results on this.  Lois, Clark, if 
you all don't get me something concrete soon, I'm gonna pull you off 
the Intergang story and put you on something else.  I can't afford to 
have you spending all your time on dead ends."

Lois sputtered.  "Perry, that's not fair.  You know we're working on 
other things as well.  I know we're going to crack this case 
eventually."

"See that you do.  That's all for today."  With a peremptory nod, 
Perry dismissed his staff.

  As the rest of the city room staff left the conference room, Clark 
put his hand on Lois' arm, holding her back.  "Don't go.  We need to 
talk in private."  His voice was so soft, she barely heard it.  Clark 
stepped over to the blinds and closed them.

"Okay."  Turning to face Clark, she gazed into his stricken eyes. 
"What is it, Clark?  What happened out there?"  Concern written on 
her face, she drew him into her arms.  "Tell me, sweetheart.  It 
can't be that bad."

"Oh yes, it can.  It's worse."  He leaned into her embrace, seeming 
to draw comfort from the haven of her arms.

"Oh, god, Lois, it was terrible."  His voice caught on a sob.  He 
rested his chin on top of her shining hair.  "One of the worst 
accidents I've ever seen."

"What happened out there?  I could tell from your face on TV that it 
was more than just a run-of-the-mill rush hour wreck."

"Where do you want me to start?  Shall I tell you how many people 
died immediately?  How many people I couldn't save because they were 
dead before I even heard the squealing tires and crunching steel?" 
Clark's tone was depressed.  "Seven people died in that accident, 
Lois.  Three of them were children."  His voice broke again.

"Oh, Clark.  How awful."  Lois hugged him more tightly.  "It wasn't 
your fault, you know.  You can't be everywhere.  You know that."

"I know.  But at times like this, what I know and what I feel are two 
very different things."  He took a deep breath before continuing. 
"Lois, someone started that chain reaction on purpose.  People died, 
all because someone had some hidden agenda."

She gasped.  "What?"

"Someone started it.  The driver of the first car said his tires blew 
out and he spun out of control.  The traffic was so congested that no 
one else could avoid slamming into the car in front of them."

"How do you know the guy just didn't run over a nail or something?"

"Because I checked.  There were bullet holes in his tires on the 
right side.  Somebody shot the tires of the first car that crashed. 
I wish to God I knew who did it."

"How on earth could someone do that without being caught?  Didn't 
anybody see them?"  Lois was incredulous.

"There's a stand of trees right beside that stretch of road. All it 
took was a rifle and a quick getaway.  What concerns me the most is, 
why did someone do it?"  Clark stepped away from Lois and ran his 
hand through his hair.  "It's senseless.  What would be the point? 
The worst thing is, I didn't get there fast enough to save everyone."

Clark reached for Lois again.  Pulling her into his arms, he took a 
deep, shuddering breath.

"Clark, you are not responsible for those deaths.  Whoever caused the 
accident is."  She squeezed him tightly.  "You've got to believe me. 
Either some deranged person, or some criminal, is responsible.  Not 
you."  She leaned back in his arms.  Lois peered worriedly at his 
face, noticing the glimmer of tears in his eyes.  "Focus on the 
people you saved, okay?"

Dropping a light kiss on the top of her head, he released her.  "I 
guess, Lois.  It's just so hard, you know?

"Yes, I do, Clark.  And it doesn't help that you are the kindest, 
most caring man in the universe."  Smiling gently at him, she glanced 
at the wall clock.  "Drat!  We've got to get going.  Are you better 
now?"

"Yes, thanks to you."  He really was feeling better, Clark reflected. 
It had been an enormous relief, Lois knowing his secret.  Being able 
to talk to her after difficult rescues made his life significantly 
easier.  Sometimes he wondered how he had managed to deal with all 
the chaos he had seen during the first year he had been Superman. 
Talking out his emotions with Lois had made a tremendous difference 
in his emotional well-being.  "Uh, Lois, where do we need to go?" he 
added as an afterthought.

"Bobby Bigmouth called.  He says he's got a *very* hot tip.  We have 
just enough time to pick up his payment and get to the park by the 
harbor."

"Did he say what it was about?"  Clark straightened his tie as Lois 
put her hand on the door knob.

"Nope, just that it was big enough to justify a five course meal." 
She laughed as she preceded him out of the conference room.

"Do I even want to know what that's gonna set us back?"  Clark 
grinned for the first time all morning.

"Probably not.  I ordered it from Ralph's Pagoda."

"Geez, Lois, I thought you were trying to pay the man, not murder him."

"He likes it.  What can I say?"  Her laughter trilled again.  "He 
obviously has a cast-iron stomach.  I think he even ate my cooking 
once."

Clark shook his head at that.  "I don't know, Lois.  Is there 
anything tougher than cast-iron?"  He ducked the playful swing she 
made at him and grabbed a notepad from his desk.  "Shall we?" 
Placing his free hand on the small of her back he propelled her 
towards the elevators.  "You driving?"

"You bet.  I parked out front today."

At that moment the elevator doors slid open.  The two reporters 
stepped inside and pushed the lobby button.

"Drat!"  Clark's sudden exclamation startled Lois.  "I forgot to talk 
to Jimmy before we left."

"What do you need to talk to him about?"

"I want him to find out if the police have come up with anything on 
the cause of that pile-up.  Or if they've found any spent rifle 
shells in those trees."

"Hmm.  You have a point."  She dug her cell phone out of her purse. 
"So, why don't you call him?"

He took the phone from her hand just as the elevator doors opened in 
the lobby.  He was dialing the newsroom's number before they reached 
the street.  "Hi, Jimmy?  Yeah, I need you to check on something for 
me."  Clark quickly filled Jimmy in and cut the connection.  "Okay, 
partner, let's get going."

****************

"Ah, slippery shrimp.  I love slippery shrimp." Bobby Bigmouth was 
stuffing the contents of several containers of take-out Chinese food 
into his mouth faster than Superman could have.  "So, Lois, did you 
bring me a drink this time?"

"Yes, Bobby," she answered acerbically.  "It's right here.  A jumbo size cola."

"Better be the real thing.  I don't want none of those off-brand 
colas.  They just don't taste the same, you know?"  Bobby grumbled.

"Yeah, I know.  Now could you please cut to the chase?"  Lois 
wondered idly why it always took Bobby longer to get to the point 
when he had a really *big* tip for them, than when it was just a 
small one.

"Sheesh, Clark.  Does she talk to you like this?"  Bobby shook his 
head in confusion.  "I gotta wonder why you put up with her 
sometimes, you know?"

Lois stiffened her posture.  "He puts up with me for any number of 
excellent reasons."

"Yeah, but I bet your cooking isn't one of them."  Bobby couldn't 
resist the dig.

"I thought you liked it."

"Compared to what?  Sawdust?"  Bobby caught the fulminating glance 
she sent his way and decided to talk business. "Okay, Lois.  Truce. 
Here's the news.  You guys know that new crime syndicate that's 
supposedly come into town recently?"

Clark interjected, "Intergang?"

"Yeah, that's the one."  The snitch wiped his mouth on his sleeve. 
Grabbing an egg roll, he continued, "Well, word is, they're smuggling 
something into Metropolis on a fairly regular basis."

"Smuggling?  What are they smuggling?"  Lois demanded.

"Don't know for sure.  Could be almost anything, but my guess is, 
either drugs or illegal aliens."

"Bobby, can't you narrow it down a little?  There's a pretty big 
difference between those two commodities."  Lois was getting 
impatient.

"Lois, I'd tell you if I knew.  All I know is, they're bringing 
something in through Metropolis harbor."

"Cargo ships or private boats?"  Clark interposed the question. 
"That might give us an idea about what's being brought in."

"Cargo ships, I think.  Anyway, there's some sort of meeting 
tonight."  Bobby paused in his munching to look through the carry-out 
bag.  "Did you bring me dessert?"

Clark rolled his eyes.  "Lo...is.  Give the man his dessert."

She shot a look of pure disgust at her partner, then reached under 
the seat, pulled out a bakery sack, and handed it to the informant.

The paper bag crackled as he pulled out its contents.  "Tortes!  You 
go, girl.  I love tortes."  Bobby shoved one in his mouth.  "Oh yeah, 
this meeting ... it's supposed to be at eight, at Pete's Crab Shack. 
Supposedly some local guy is gonna be meeting with an Intergang 
leader."

"And are you going to be there, to find out what the deal is ?"  Lois asked.

"Me?  Not on your life!  These Intergang guys are not to be messed 
with.  From what I hear, they'd as soon kill you as look at you. 
Nope, if you two want to know what's going down, I suggest you go 
there."

Usually the more rational of the two reporters, Clark again chimed 
in.  "And how are we supposed to know who to listen to or look at?"

Bobby was gathering the remains of his meal together.  "I don't know. 
All I know is, there's a meeting; and people who know about Intergang 
are supposed to be able to tell who the players are."  With that he 
disappeared into the woods ringing the park.

The wheels in Lois' brain were churning.  Secret meetings at seedy 
restaurants were her life's blood.  Few things got her more excited 
than the opportunity to go undercover chasing down a lead.  She 
turned an excited gaze on Clark.  "We need to be there, Clark."

He blinked his surprise.  "*We* need to be there?"

"That's what I said.  Is there an echo?  Don't answer that.  Yes, 
Clark, we need to be there and see what's going on.  It could be a 
great opportunity to finally break the Intergang story.  You heard 
Perry this morning."

"Don't you think that if these people see you and me sitting there, 
that they'll figure something is up and leave?"

"Of course, they will.  That's why we'll go undercover.  Then no one 
will know that it's us."  Lois was already putting together a plan in 
hermind.

"Undercover.  *We'll* go undercover."

"Yeah, I can wear a blond wig and some trashy clothes; and you can 
wear that awful beard  you wore to the Metro Club last year."  Lois 
continued planning aloud.  "Hmm.  I wonder if there's any chance I 
could get a waitressing job there for the night.  Then I could be in 
a position to hear a lot of the conversation."

At that, the tight rein Clark had tried to keep on his emotions all 
morning snapped.  "No!  I can't allow you to do that, Lois."

She snapped her head up to look at the taut lips and narrowed eyes of 
her boyfriend.  "Excuse me?  What did you just say?"

"I said I can't allow you to do that.  It's too dangerous."  Clark 
was surprised that she questioned him.

"Stop right there, buster.  What makes you think you have the right 
to tell me that I can't do my job?"

"Honey, I love you.  You know that."  He rubbed the back of his head 
wearily.  "I don't want you in danger."

Lois took a deep breath and counted to ten.  When that failed to calm 
her temper, she counted to twenty.  "The heck with it," she thought. 
"He needs to know I'm mad."  She turned to face him directly and 
poked him in the chest.  She ground out the words through clenched 
teeth.  "Clark, listen to me.  Just because you love me, that doesn't 
give you the right to tell me I can't do something.  You don't own 
me.  It isn't your place to tell me I can't do my job because you 
love me, any more than it's my place to tell you what to do because I 
love you."

Clark took her hands and laced his fingers with hers.  "Don't  you 
see a little difference here?  I mean, you are a lot more likely to 
get hurt, you know?"  He pulled her close to him.  "Lois, I love you 
so much.  If anything were to happen to you, I don't know if I could 
go on.  Can't you see that I just want to protect you?"

She looked up at him and shook her head.  "Clark, I do see that.  But 
it doesn't change anything.  I was going undercover on more dangerous 
assignments than this before I ever met you.  I somehow managed to 
survive, even without super help."  Lois paused to give him a 
squeeze.  "You can't wrap me up in cotton wool, anymore than I can do 
it to you."

Completely baffled, Clark responded, "Why would you want to?  It's 
not like I can get hurt.  You, on the other hand, can."

Lois sighed in exasperation.  "Honestly, Clark, sometimes you are so 
dumb.  Who had to dig a bullet out of whom a few months ago?"

"Lo...is," he groaned.  "That was a very unusual situation.  And you know it."

"Yeah, right.  Do I need to remind you about the crazy eye doctor who 
blinded you?  Or the engineering geeks who built a cyborg that could 
beat you up since it just happened to have a Kryptonite battery?  Or 
how about...."

He stopped her tirade with a kiss.  "Okay.  I guess you've made your 
point.  Will you at least promise me to *try* to be careful?  To look 
before you leap?"

She smiled up at him.  "Well, I can try.  But it works both ways, you know."

He looked hurt.  "All right.  So what's the plan?"

"I'll tell you on the way back to the Planet."  She began the walk 
across the parking lot to her Jeep, Clark striding beside her.  "It's 
really pretty simple.  If I can get a job there for the night, you 
can come in as a customer.  It'll be great.  You'll see."

"Famous last words," he muttered as he slid into the passenger seat 
and fastened his seat belt.

The ride back to the newsroom was passed in a discussion of Lois' 
plan for surveillance of the meeting that night.  As they pulled into 
a parking place in the garage, Lois finally remarked on Clark's 
silence for most of the trip.  "You okay?  Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, everything is fine."  His tone didn't sound convincing.

"Uh huh.  If everything is fine, then why do you have that hangdog 
look on your face?  And why did you let me make all the plans for 
tonight?" she prodded.

Clark shifted in his seat so that he could see her better.  "Do you 
really think I try to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Try to run your life.  Try to wrap you up in cotton wool."

She was silent as she turned off the ignition.  "Well," she 
temporized.  "Yes and no."  She swiveled to face him.  "I don't 
really think you try to run my life.  But, sometimes, you do try to 
keep me wrapped up in that stuff."

"Is it so wrong to want to protect the woman I love?  To want to keep 
her safe?"  he asked.

"No, I guess it's actually natural.  It's even kind of sweet.  But 
you have to remember that you can't always do it.  And you have to 
accept that fact.  Sometimes, I'm going to take risks to get a story. 
I hope my luck holds good, and nothing bad happens when I do take a 
chance.  Or at the very least, that if something bad happens, that 
you're able to rescue me."  She reached over and took his hand. 
"But, Clark, I'm not a child.  And I'm not a hothouse flower.  Most 
of the time I can take care of myself.  You have to believe that, or 
you'll drive yourself nuts.  You have to trust me."

"I do trust you, Lois.  I guess it's just that the longer we're 
together, the more I worry that something bad could happen; that 
someone could hurt you.  And I couldn't bear that."  He raised her 
hand and kissed her knuckles.  "Days like today, I need you so much 
it's almost a physical sensation.  Situations like that accident this 
morning leave me feeling like there's this big hole inside me.  And 
when I get back to you, your love fills the hole back in.  I just 
don't want anything to separate us."  His voice was thick with 
emotion.  "Lois, I love you.  I can't tell you that enough."

She reached across the car with her other hand and lovingly caressed 
his cheek.  "I know, sweetheart.  I love you too.  I love you so much 
that sometimes it scares me.  But I promise, *nothing* is going to 
change that.  You are definitely stuck with me."  Grinning, she 
changed the subject.  "Now, come on.  We need to get back upstairs 
and see what we can find out about the Crab Shack, and go over our 
notes on Intergang.  And if you've been living right, maybe nobody 
will be in the elevator."

Clark smiled at that sally and exited the Jeep.  As far as he knew, 
he *always* lived right.  It might be an interesting trip to the 
third floor.

***********************

  The Daily Planet's two top reporters stepped off the elevators, each 
wearing a very satisfied expression.  Another Planet employee, 
waiting to go down, was puzzled upon hearing Lois murmur to Clark, 
"Hmm.  You *are* living right."

Clark's smug, "Told you so," in reply was even more perplexing, given 
that Lois seemed to be finger-combing her hair; and Clark was 
straightening his tie.  As the down elevator pinged its arrival, the 
observer smiled to himself and got on.  Things had been pretty 
strange with those two lately.

"CK!"  Jimmy bounded across the newsroom as Lois and Clark made their 
way down the ramp.  "I've got that information from the police you 
wanted.  He handed a sheaf of papers to the reporter before looking 
at  Lois with a critical eye.  "The air-conditioning go out in the 
Jeep?  Your hair looks kind of mussed, Lois."  The young reporter 
took off for the darkroom before she could respond.

"Somebody needs to do something about that boy before he comes to a 
bad end," she muttered.  Upon getting no reaction from Clark, she 
turned in his direction.  He had the same look he'd had on his 
arrival at the budget meeting earlier that morning.  "Uh oh," she 
thought.  "Must be more bad news."

Taking him by the arm, she pulled Clark into the deserted conference 
room.  "Now what's made you look like that?" she asked, her voice 
tinged with concern.  "Bad news from the MPD?"

He swallowed hard.  "Yeah.  One of the people I rescued from the 
pile-up died after he got to the hospital.  God, sometimes I wonder 
...."  Clark blinked back tears.

Lois grimaced.  It was obvious to her that her partner was beginning 
to obsess again.  She had to stop him so they could get to work on 
the Intergang story.  "Clark, tell me something."

"What, Lois?"

"Just how many seat belts did you unfasten from dead people today? 
And how many of the children were in safety seats?"

"None, actually."  Clark shot her a quizzical look.  "What, exactly, 
are you trying to make me see?  I seem to be pretty dense today."

"That none of those deaths had anything at all to do with you or when 
you arrived on the scene.  On the other hand, they had everything to 
do with people making bad choices when they left their homes this 
morning.  If they had been properly restrained, they'd probably still 
be alive.  So quit obsessing right now!"  Lois lessened the sting of 
her words with a quick hug.  "Come on, partner.  We've got research 
to do."

"You, as always, are right."  He smiled at her.  "Can I at least 
obsess to the point of asking Perry if I can write either a side-bar 
or an editorial about the importance of wearing seat belts?"

"Sure, as long as we get our homework done before our visit to Pete's 
Crab Shack tonight."

*************

The rest of the day involved Clark's write-up of the freeway 
accident, including a pointed op-ed piece on the necessity of safety 
restraints in motor vehicles, and Lois' extensive research on the 
little that was known of Intergang.  Late in an afternoon which had 
been punctuated by several calls on Clark's alter-ego, the two 
reporters met again in the conference room to discuss their plan and 
their suspicions.

"So, what have you got, Lois?"

"Not as much as I wish.  You know, we really haven't made much 
headway on getting to the bottom of Intergang.  I've never seen 
anything with so many layers hiding the truth.  Even Luthor 
Enterprises was less convoluted than Intergang."

"I know.  Let's see -- Intergang shows up in towns about the same 
time Costmart does.  Small time criminals start leaving this plane of 
existence if they don't cooperate with some mysterious 'boss.' The 
systematic takeover of almost all crime: drugs, prostitution, 
numbers, robbery, takes place.  Political figures who call for steps 
to be taken against Intergang tend to get assassinated.  Nice people 
we're dealing with."

"And no one has ever identified anyone as the head of, or even in the 
upper echelon, of Intergang."

"Except you, tenacious Mad Dog that you are, think that the head of 
Intergang is Bill Church."

"It figures, doesn't it, Clark?  Or do you think I'm reaching?"  she 
questioned her partner.

"Well, I agree that there seems to be a very strong circumstantial 
link between Intergang and Costmart.  Hate to think that my Dad's 
favorite store is run by a crook, but hey."  He continued, "And there 
is no doubt that Martin Snell was a lawyer for Intergang; he told me 
so himself."

"He was an attorney for Costmart, too.  Mayson Drake knew him from 
there, remember?" Lois added.

"And just when he was about to tell the police who was in charge of 
Intergang, he was killed.  Funny coincidence, that."

"But Bill Church had an iron-clad alibi.  He was at that charity ball 
with half of Metropolis.  Even you and I were there, Clark."

"True, but who is to say that he actually committed that murder?  I 
have a feeling that Intergang probably employs more assassins than 
the KGB ever did."

Lois groaned.  "If only we could find out who any of them are.  I'm 
convinced that Bill Church is the head of Intergang; but without hard 
evidence, Perry isn't going to print anything.  Not even to smoke him 
out."

Clark was appalled at the suggestion.  "You can't be serious!  Tell 
me you really wouldn't try to put anything about these people in 
print unless we have enough evidence for the police to arrest them 
before the papers hit the streets. If Church had an inkling that you 
were going to print that allegation, you could be his next target."

"I know.  We're not dealing with people who play fair.  That much is 
obvious."  She looked at him inquiringly.  "So what now?"

"We go to Pete's Crab Shack and see what happens.  If we're lucky, 
Bill Church will come in, sit at the table next to ours and meet some 
known underworld figure.  They'll discuss in loud voices their plans 
to do whatever it is they're doing at the harbor.  And then they'll 
hand us a micro-cassette tape, along with signed affidavits admitting 
their guilt."

"There isn't that much luck in the world."  She laughed.  "So, you 
gonna answer my question or not?"

He turned hurt, brown, puppy dog eyes on her.  "Lo...is, I did."  He 
shook his head, bewildered.  Gazing up at the ceiling, he grumbled, 
"She asked a question; I answered it.  The woman is never satisfied."

Lois smacked his arm.  "That is *so* not true.  I was extremely 
satisfied in the elevator."

Clark smiled at her.  "Yeah, that was fun, wasn't it?"  He took a 
breath.  "All kidding aside, I guess we go to the restaurant, and see 
what happens.  I don't suppose you had any luck getting hired for the 
night?"

"No.  On the other hand, Jimmy did find me a micro-cassette recorder 
that can pick up from as far as thirty feet away at Spies R Us.  So 
we should be able to get close enough to record any conversation, 
*if* we can figure out whom to record."

"All right. I'll pick you up at seven.  And I better not be able to 
recognize you.  I don't want to be at that place and have Bill Church 
walk in and see Lois Lane and Clark Kent sitting there.  I have a 
feeling that Pete's Crab Shack isn't the kind of place any of us 
would normally frequent."

"Doesn't sound like it."  A thought struck her.  "You do still have 
that beard thingy, don't you?"

"Actually, I don't.  Don't worry, I'll look different."  He grinned 
at her.  "Besides, don't you want me to be able to kiss you?"

"Good grief, I've created a monster."  Lois rolled her eyes at him. 
"You know, for someone who claimed to be inexperienced in the 
relationship department, you sure don't act like it."

"What can I say?  I read a lot."  He ducked the notepad she threw at 
him.  "Come on, Lois.  Let's get going."

They strolled out of the conference room and went to their respective 
desks to clear them for the night.  As they were packing up, Perry 
called to them.  "Lois, Clark!  I want to see you all in here before 
you leave."

The pair exchanged a quick look  and headed for the editor's office. 
"D'you think we're in trouble?" Lois whispered.

"Nah, he probably wants to know what we found out from Bobby.  We 
never did fill him in on that."

"Oh, yeah.  I guess I forgot.  I was too busy convincing you I can 
cross the street by myself."

"Lo...is.  That's a low blow.  I thought we had that issue straightened out."

"Sure, until the next time.  Face it, Clark, you are extremely 
predictable.  We will have that conversation again and again."

"Wanna bet?"  He stuck out his hand.

"Bet.  It's like taking candy from a baby."  She shook his hand on 
it, and they made their way into Perry's office.

After motioning them to take a seat on the plaid sofa, Perry spoke to 
his star reporting team.  "First off, Clark, that was an excellent 
piece on the seat belt issue.  You really do a great job with human 
interest issues.  It'll make a nice companion to the news story on 
that pile up today.  Maybe people will learn if they get the message 
enough times.  Nice work on the story of the crash itself, too.  When 
did you have a chance to talk to Superman about it?  Those were some 
great quotes."

"We saw Superman on our way back from talking to Bobby Bigmouth. 
That's when we got the quotes."  Lois smiled to herself.  She was a 
lot better than Clark at coming up with glib Superman answers she 
decided.

"Which brings me to my question.  What did you all find out from your 
source?"  Perry looked at them pointedly.  "It better be good, and 
you better be able to prove it."

Clark spoke for the first time since entering the office.  "Bobby 
said that Intergang is involved in some sort of big smuggling 
operation.  Possibly drugs or illegal aliens.  He wasn't sure which." 
He went on, "There's supposed to be a meeting tonight of two people 
high up in Intergang at a seedy restaurant down by Hobb's Bay."

"So we're going to go undercover, and see what we can find out," Lois 
interjected.  "Jimmy got us this awesome micro-recorder.  We ought to 
be able to get the conversation on tape."  Her excitement was 
evident.  "And then we'll have them."

"Sounds like a decent plan.  Just be careful that you're well 
disguised.  You two are pretty well known.  I don't want to have to 
break in a new investigative team."  Perry's tone was gruff.

"Sure, Chief.  We're always careful."  Clark tried to look sincere.

"Uh huh.  And Elvis sang soprano.  Lois is never careful, and I think 
you're pickin' up her bad habits."  Perry paused a minute, then went 
on, "Good luck.  I hope you get the goods.  The sooner Intergang gets 
blown open, the sooner the police will be able to clean up some of 
the crime in this town.  And lots of other cities as well."

Lois spoke up.  "Is that all, Chief?"

"Yeah, get on out of here.  See you all tomorrow."

"Night, Chief."  Clark rose and held out a hand to Lois.

She took it and stood.  "Good night, Perry.  See you tomorrow."  Lois 
preceded Clark out the door.  Once they were in the bullpen, she 
tugged on his hand and pulled him closer.  Reaching up, she gave him 
a quick kiss.  "Let's get going.  We need to go transform ourselves 
by seven."

Returning her kiss, he squeezed her hand and released it.  "I'll see 
you then.  I'm going to go make a quick patrol of the city before I 
go home to change.  Who knows?  Maybe I'll see something important."

"All right.  Be careful, sweetheart.  I love you."

"I love you too.  And drive carefully on the way home."  He smiled, 
but there was an underlying note of seriousness in his voice.

She smiled at him and made her way towards the elevators.  Clark took 
the stairs to the roof, his favorite place for Superman take-offs. 
He wanted to scan the harbor for any suspicious looking cargoes. 
Perhaps he could get some useful information before their stake-out 
tonight.  Not for the first time, he wondered what was being brought 
into the country illegally.  He hadn't heard of any new influx of 
drugs, and he certainly hadn't seen anything to indicate that people 
were being brought into Metropolis.  He headed towards the 
waterfront.  It would be nice to have more information tonight.

**********

As Lois maneuvered her Jeep through the early evening rush hour 
traffic, she reflected on the events of the day.  Clark had certainly 
been upset by the morning's accident.  Although his capacity to care 
deeply about total strangers was one of the qualities that she loved 
the most about him, it also concerned her a great deal.  Lois often 
wondered how he managed to cope with all of the trauma and death that 
he saw without becoming jaded and cynical.

Maybe it was true, she thought, what he had said about how her love 
affected him.  It was definitely a fact that being in a relationship 
with Clark was nothing like what she had expected when she decided to 
forget Superman and choose her partner.  Lois had believed that 
loving Clark would be as straightforward and uncomplicated as Clark 
appeared to be.  In reality, though, loving Clark meant loving 
Superman.  And that meant helping him put himself back together 
emotionally when his second job was as rough as it had been that 
morning.

"But I wouldn't trade a minute of it," she thought.  Loving and being 
loved by Clark was unbelievable.  He might think that he needed her, 
but Lois needed him every bit as much.  "Together, we are definitely 
better than each of us alone."

She sighed happily.  Tonight could be fun.  Lois always enjoyed going 
undercover; it gave her the opportunity to be someone else, to be 
what she had wished as a child, "invisible."  And if luck was with 
them, tonight they would get the information they needed to bring 
Intergang to its knees.

**************

At precisely seven PM, a biker-looking type knocked on the door of 
Lois' apartment.  His heavily pomaded hair was swept up in a 
pompadour, dark glasses obscured his eyes, and a black leather jacket 
was opened to reveal a tight white tee-shirt covering a well-muscled 
torso.  Skin tight jeans completed his outfit.  Cracking the gum he 
was chomping, he rapped on the door frame a second time.

The blonde who opened the door took his breath away.  Long blond hair 
was teased high on top but hung halfway down her back.  A black 
leather mini-skirt and bustier barely covered her decently.  Her legs 
were encased in black fishnet stockings, and she teetered on 
impossible four inch heels.  The only color visible was the scarlet 
lipstick that emphasized her pout.  "So, what's up, Spike?"  she 
asked, her posture suggestive of delights to come later.

"Nice tattoo," her visitor mumbled using a fair imitation of a New 
Jersey accent.  "Can I come in?"

"Sure thing, love."  The blonde closed the door behind him.  In the 
privacy of her living room, Lois dissolved into giggles.  "Oh, 
Clark," she gasped, "I don't know which of us looks worse.  I don't 
think our own mothers could recognize us."  She twisted to check out 
the fake tattoo on her upper left arm.  "Do you really like it? 
Think I should get a real one?"

"Truthfully?  No.  I like your body just the way it is.  You can't 
improve on perfection."  Clark blushed as he heard himself speak.  "I 
can't believe I just said that.  Must be the outfit."

Lois responded happily.  "Thank you, Clark.  That was one of the 
nicest things you've ever said to me."  A thought occurred to her. 
"Uh, Clark?  Whose outfit, yours or mine?"

"Both, I guess."  He swallowed twice in an effort to tamp down the 
feelings her appearance was engendering in him.  If he couldn't 
control his wayward emotions, this evening might be more challenge 
than he was prepared to handle.  "Um, I guess we better go.  Do you 
have the recorder?"

"Yes."  She patted her purse.  She slanted him a sultry look.  "Are 
your ears in good working order tonight?"

"You bet.  I just hope Bobby is right, and we know the Intergang 
leader when we see him."

"Me too.  Wanna bet it's either Bill Church, Sr. or Bill Church, Jr.?"

"I'm not taking that bet.  Unless you and I have been wrong for 
months, it's almost gotta be one or the other."

"That's what I'm thinking.  Come on, then."  Lois took her keys out 
as they left her apartment.  Five locks later, she and Clark were 
riding down the elevator.  "I hope you aren't planning to walk, 
Spike."

He chuckled.  "Why not, Lola?  Shoes not comfortable?"

"You got it, Ace.  I'd never make it a block in these things."

"Well, maybe there'll be a cab."

The elevator doors slid open, and "Lola" and "Spike" stepped out into 
the lobby of the apartment building.  Miss Helen, an elderly neighbor 
of Lois,' was just coming in.  As she caught sight of the 
leather-clad duo, she clutched her purse like a weapon.

"Hiya.  We're friends of Lois Lane," Spike explained.  "Know if we 
can get a cab anywhere around here?"

Miss Helen's heart skipped a beat.  "Oh my," she murmured weakly. 
"There's a cab stand at the corner."  She turned and scurried into 
the waiting refuge of the elevator.  The faint sound of laughter 
followed her.  She shook her head.  That Lois Lane certainly knew 
some "unusual" people.

**************

Luckily for Lois' feet, there were several waiting taxis at the 
corner.  Spike and Lola gave the driver the address for Pete's Crab 
Shack and sat back on the naugahide-covered seat.

"So, Spike, how long do you thing it'll take to get there?" a pouting 
Lola asked.

"About fifteen or twenty minutes, I think."  Spike cocked his head to 
one side to look at her.  Giving her a considering glance, he 
continued, "Wanna neck?"

***********

A quarter hour and a pleasant interlude later, the cab pulled up in 
front of a seedy-looking restaurant on the quay at Hobb's Bay. 
Smeared paint on dingy windows advertised the special of the week, 
while the establishment's sign hung drunkenly from one end.  A neon 
light on the roof blinked its message:  "$1 Be rs on Tu sday Nite. 
Ladies Welcom."

The blonde with big hair who had just crawled from the back of the 
cab shuddered.  "Ugh.  Do you suppose it's safe to eat or drink 
anything in there?"

"Good point, Lola.  Looks like the kind of place where you should 
stick to bottled beer."  Clark grinned at her discomfort.  "Are you 
trying to tell me that you have never been to this type of place? 
Not even in college?"

"Of course I have, Spike," Lois said indignantly.  "But *only* for an 
assignment."

Clark gave a shout of laughter.  "You know, Lola, it's really all right.  I won't 
think less of you for slumming."  He hugged her shoulders.  "Come on. 
Let's see if we can get a good table."

"Like one with a view of the kitchen?  So we can count the roaches 
and the rats?" she muttered.

Clark grinned.  "Ah, I was thinking more of a nice, dark booth, that 
might be near where our quarry will be.  What do you think?"

"I guess."  She snaked an arm around his waist.  "I hope we recognize 
the guys we're looking for;  I'd hate to spend the evening trying to 
avoid food poisoning and taping two guys talking about their fishing 
trip."

"Have a little faith, Lola.  If we've been right all along, it's 
gonna be a piece of cake."  With that reassuring comment, he escorted 
his "woman" into the restaurant.

As their eyes adjusted to the dimly lit interior of the Crab Shack, 
Lois had to smile.  The clientele looked as if it had been chosen 
from Central Casting.  Trashy brunettes vied with blowzy blondes for 
the attention of a motley assortment of tattooed and unshaven 
sailors, dock workers, and the like.  Had Clark worn his "Charlie 
King" disguise, he'd have fit right in.  As it was, he was one of the 
better-dressed men in the place.

"Oh yeah, this is gonna be good," she murmured; her voice so low that 
Clark had to use his superhearing to understand her.

The hostess, an overdone redhead, greeted them with, "So what'll it 
be?  A table or a booth?"

"A booth, doncha think," Clark replied.

Lois nodded her assent.  "Yeah, hon.  A nice dark one, so's we can 
enjoy ourselves."  She winked  broadly at the hostess.

She showed them to a booth in a darkened corner and handed them 
several stained menus.  "Ernestine's your waitress.  She'll be with 
you in a sec."  She cracked her  gum as she moved off towards the 
entrance.

Clark scanned the dining room, looking for anyone that "people who 
know Intergang should know." There was a likely looking prospect at 
the next booth, a dark-haired man with graying temples.  The dark 
sport coat and open collared shirt he wore did little to make him 
resemble a regular patron of the seafood restaurant/bar.  Clark gave 
Lois a silent signal to be ready to start the recorder.

A brassy blonde in a skimpy uniform arrived shortly thereafter to 
take their order.  After the waitress left for the kitchen, Lois 
whispered, "Please tell me I don't have to actually eat anything in 
here.  I have a feeling that crabs aren't the only lower forms of 
life they serve."

"And what else do you imagine you could be eating here, 'Lola?'"

"All kinds of things: bacteria, microbes and worms come to mind.  You 
name it; I bet they've got it.  I think we need to call the Health 
Department next chance we get."  She sent a suspicious glance in the 
direction of the kitchen.

Lois and Clark were pushing some dubious looking salad around their 
plates when Clark's superhearing picked up a new voice at the door. 
Barely able to conceal his excitement, he inclined his head in that 
direction, indicating that Lois should take a look at the latest 
arrival.  Her heart rate quickened as she glimpsed Bill Church, Sr. 
beneath an old fishing hat which did little to conceal his identity. 
He was following the hostess to the booth behind theirs.  Lois 
unobtrusively reached into her purse to switch on the micro-recorder 
as he joined the man they had noticed earlier.

Lois strained her ears to hear what the two men were saying.  She 
glanced at her partner.  His face was a study in concentration as he 
listened to the low-voiced conversation behind him.

************

"Good evening, Mr. Darryl."  Church's voice was polite as he slid 
into the booth.  He felt a small amount of satisfaction that he had 
made his companion wait.  It never hurt to keep one's underlings on 
their toes.

"Hello, Mr. Church.  What's your poison?"  Mr. Darryl's tone 
indicated that he was a man who was accustomed to directing the 
conversation and was not entirely happy with the current situation.

"Beer will be fine.  I think I'll pass on the food."  The president 
of Costmart looked around the dining room and shuddered.  He wondered 
what had possessed Darryl to choose to meet here.

"Fine."  Darryl placed their order with the hovering waitress and 
turned his attention to this companion.  "All right, Mr. Church. 
What is so important that you wanted to meet face to face?"

"The new import operation, of course.  I want to know exactly how you 
think you are going to bring dozens of illegal immigrant workers into 
Metropolis without being stopped by either the police or Superman.  I 
need those workers for my clothing factories; you cannot afford a 
slip-up."

"*I* cannot afford a slip up?"  Darryl's tone was affronted.

"Exactly."  The head of Intergang directed a kindly smile towards his 
second-in-command.  "It's your head if the operation gets linked to 
Intergang or Costmart."  He paused.  "And don't forget, I mean what I 
say."

"Yes, sir."  Suddenly his open collar felt a bit tight.  Darryl 
remembered the fate of Martin Snell.  "You have nothing to worry 
about, I assure you."

"Good.  Now give me the details on how this is going to work."

Just then the waitress reappeared with their drinks.  As she bustled 
about the booth, placing napkins and opening beer bottles, they 
changed the subject of their conversation to the prospects for the 
upcoming Superbowl.

**************

Lois, on the other side of the booth, noticed that Clark had suddenly 
gotten the frozen expression that indicated he was hearing a cry for 
help.  "What is it?" she whispered.

"Sounds like someone jumping or falling off the top of the Trade 
Center."  He was getting out of the booth as he spoke.

"Go.  I'll wait here for a while.  If you're gone too long, I'll meet 
you at your apartment."

"Okay."  A quick kiss, and he disappeared through the crowd, out into 
the night.

Her partner gone, Lois turned back to listen to the quiet 
conversation behind her.

Bill Church was speaking again.  "As I said, just how are you 
planning to get dozens of people off a ship in the middle of 
Metropolis Harbor without legal difficulties?  My understanding is 
that Superman has taken to patrolling the harbor on a regular basis, 
ever since that idiot with Sun Industries tried bringing in illegals."

"Ah, but as you say, Harland went about it all wrong.  He tried to 
defeat Superman.  That always makes the 'Man of Steel' angry and more 
resolved than ever to win.  I am going to divert Superman.  A much 
easier solution."

Lois listened with growing horror as Darryl went on to describe how 
well a diversion had worked that morning.

"Mr. Church, we brought in a hundred workers this morning during rush hour."

"And Superman and the police didn't notice a thing?"  Church wanted to know.

"Not at all.  The harbor master was tied up with a fight that broke 
out among some dock workers, and Superman and the police were 
occupied with that chain-reaction crash on the beltway."

"That was your work?  Nice going."  Bill Church was obviously 
pleased.  "Superman was busy for several hours cleaning that mess up. 
How did you manage that?"

"It was simple.  A sniper in the woods at the side of the road, a 
couple of shot-out tires, and voila.  Instant accident.  I thought it 
worked pretty well.  Of course, we'll have to have a different 
diversion next time.  The unexpected is always more effective.  I'm 
thinking of  a fire in a high-rise."

"That should work quite well.  I'm pleased so far."  Bill Church took 
another swallow from his beer bottle and moved the conversation on to 
the next topic on his agenda.

Lois stared numbly at the table as the dialogue behind her continued. 
It was good that the recorder was picking up the details of 
Intergang's smuggling operations, for she had stopped paying 
attention to Church and Darryl.  Instead, her thoughts were focused 
on what they had said about the morning's pileup.  Eight people had 
died, just to keep Superman out of the way while Intergang committed 
a crime.  How could she tell Clark about this development?  He'd be 
devastated and take on the burden of guilt for the deaths.  But how 
could she not tell him?  He needed to know just what he was up 
against, as both the reporter and the superhero.  She was sickened by 
the two men's callous disregard for human life.  She swallowed the 
bile rising in her throat and closed her eyes briefly.

"Hi."  Lois opened her eyes to see Clark sitting back down in the booth.

"Everything O.K.?" she asked.

"Yeah, I guess.  I'll tell you about it later."  He nodded towards 
the two Intergang leaders.  "Learn anything more?" he mouthed at her.

She nodded, then whispered, "Tell you later."

A couple of purely conversational remarks later, Church and Darryl 
rose to leave.  They passed by Lois and Clark without even glancing 
at them.  As the two criminal masterminds left the restaurant, Lois 
slumped in relief and pushed the stop button on the recorder.

"Let's give them a few minutes to get out of the neighborhood, and 
then we can leave," she said.

"Fine.  I want to tell you what happened while I was gone, and I want 
to know what went on here, but not *here* if you know what I mean."

She smiled weakly at him.  "Yeah.  We need to go to your place and talk."

The two passed the next ten minutes in desultory conversation, each 
preoccupied with thoughts of what had happened while Clark was gone. 
When Clark finally indicated that it was safe to leave, Lois sighed 
with relief.  She accompanied him to the door, teetering on her 
impossible heels.  "I can't wait to get home," she told him.

"I thought you said you wanted to go to my place."  Clark was confused.

"I do."  She gave him a megawatt smile.  "Home is wherever you are. 
Didn't you know that?"

His heart turned over.  He still hadn't quite gotten used to the idea 
that the woman of his dreams shared his feelings.  It was a heady 
sensation.  Clark pulled her to him for a quick hug.  "Have I told 
you lately that I love you?"

"Yes, but you can tell me again."  She looked around.  "Come on. 
There's a cab over there."

Ten minutes later they were paying the cabby in front of Clark's 
apartment.  Clark took her hand in his and led her up the stairs.

"Want some coffee?" he asked as he opened the door.

"Coffee would be fine, but what I was really thinking about was some 
food.  I didn't eat, remember?"

"That's right.  You were worried about what the food would have for 
garnish."  He smiled at her.  "I think I can make some stir-fry. 
That okay?"

"That would be heavenly."  Lois took her shoes off before attempting 
to descend the steps into his living room.  "So what happened at the 
Trade Center?"  She pulled the wig from her head and ran her fingers 
through her hair.  "Ah, that's better."

They moved on to the kitchen, where Clark began pulling ingredients 
out of the refrigerator.  "Can you get the wok out?" he asked.

"The wok?"  Lois was perplexed.  "Uh, sure, if you tell me what to look for."

Clark laughed.  "It's the pan that looks like a frying pan with a 
rounded bottom."

"Oh, okay.  Here it is.  What else do you need?"

"That should do it."  He absently rubbed the side of his neck.

"So tell me.  What about your rescue?"  Lois wanted to deal with what 
would probably be the simpler issue first.

"It was weird.  I heard this scream for help and flew over there to 
find Diana Stride falling towards the ground."

"Diana Stride?  From 'Top Copy?'" Lois was incredulous.

"None other.  It was the strangest thing.  She said she needed to go 
back up to the top, because her cameraman was there.  They said they 
had gone up there to take panoramic shots for the show, when they 
were attacked from behind.  Rolf, the cameraman was hit over the 
head, and Diana was pushed off the roof."

"Well, I suppose it could be true."

"Yeah, but Rolf didn't seem to have any head injury at all, not even 
a lump.  And Diana didn't seem to be all that shaken up either." 
Clark went on, a puzzled frown wrinkling his brow.  "Plus, there was 
no sign of anyone else around that could have done it."  He rubbed 
his neck again.

"Clark, why do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?"  He was briskly chopping vegetables as they talked.

"Rubbing your neck.  I've noticed you doing it several times since 
you got back from that rescue."

"I don't know.  It feels kind of weird."

Lois peered intently at the spot he'd been rubbing.  "Clark, there's 
something on your neck.  It looks kind of sticky.  Did Diana Stride 
rub your neck while you were carrying her?

"Maybe.  I don't really remember.  I don't usually pay that much 
attention to other women, you know."

"Well, I think we should get whatever she put on you off.  It can 
*not* be for any good purpose."

"All right.  Just let me finish cooking."  He quickly stirred the 
food once more and turned off the gas flame.

Following her to the bathroom, he asked her what she thought Diana 
Stride was up to.

"I don't know.  It depends on whether we can tell exactly what it was 
she put on your neck.  Do you think you'll be able to tell if you use 
your vision gizmo?"

"Maybe.  Let me try."  He peered intently into the bathroom mirror. 
"Well, I'll be damned," he cursed under his breath.  "There's a 
microscopic chip stuck on my neck in some sort of glue."

"She must be trying to track Superman, somehow.  I wonder why?" Lois mused.

"I'm not sure I care why.  We've got to get rid of this thing, now." 
Clark had a hunted expression on his face.

"I don't suppose you have any nail polish remover, do you?"

"Lo...is.  What do you think?"

"Well, it's really good for removing glue, Clark.  Got any rubbing 
alcohol?  We can try that."

He pulled a bottle from the medicine chest and handed it to her 
wordlessly.  Several hard scrubs with some saturated cotton balls 
later, she looked at him.

"Is it still there?"

Clark stared intently at the cotton balls.  "You got it.  How do you 
want to dispose of those?"

"Hmm.  It depends.  Do you want her to find the tracer, just not on 
you, or do you want her to lose the signal completely?"

"Probably the latter.  Why?"

"Well, if you want her to find it, flush it down the drain.  She'll 
wind up at the Metropolis Sewage Treatment Facility, a favorite place 
of yours, if I recall correctly.  If you just want it gone, throw the 
cotton balls into space."

The "kindest, most caring" man in the world shot his girlfriend a 
wicked grin.  "Let's flush it then, by all means."  He followed 
through as she stared at him.

"I don't believe it.  I've completely corrupted you," she crowed.

"In your dreams, Lois, in your dreams."  Clark headed back to the 
kitchen.  "Let's eat."

As they ate, the two reporters continued to discuss the possible 
motives Diana Stride might have for putting a tracing device on 
Superman.  Neither one of them could come up with anything that 
sounded plausible, so they decided to table the issue for the time 
being.  The more pressing matter was what they had discovered about 
Bill Church and Intergang.


After dinner they took their coffee to the living room and sat on the 
couch.  Lois still wasn't sure how to bring up what she had heard 
about Intergang's plans to neutralize Superman.  No matter how she 
put it, Clark was bound to be distressed.  She wondered, not for the 
first time, why he insisted on shouldering the responsibility for 
preventing all the evil in Metropolis.  The fact remained, he was 
just one man.  A very special man, but a man, nonetheless.  A man who 
would start obsessing all over again about the morning's loss of life 
when she told him why the shots had been fired, causing the multi-car 
crash.  His soul would be torn by both grief and anger. She dreaded 
playing the tape even as she reached for the "play" button.

"So, what did I miss at Pete's?"

"Besides the ptomaine poisoning?"

"Yeah, as in, what did those two have to say while I was off catching 
Diana Stride?"

"Um, why don't we listen to the tape?  I sort of stopped listening 
after the first thing they discussed once you left."

"Wait a minute.  *You* quit listening to a conversation between what 
seems to be two of the top people in Intergang?  I don't believe you."

"Well, Clark, believe it."  She paused.  How could she tell him?  She 
hated having to be the one.  "They ... they, were talking about how 
to keep Superman and the police from catching them.  It's pretty bad. 
You're not going to like what you hear."

She started to play the cassette.  Lois snuggled up against Clark's 
side, hoping that her physical proximity might help once he heard 
about Intergang's plans.  Clark listened intently to the voices of 
Bill Church and the mysterious Mr. Darryl.  When they got to the 
discussion about the "diversion" created to keep Superman distracted 
while the illegal immigrant workers were taken from the ship in 
Metropolis Harbor, he froze.

"No!"  His anguished cry echoed in the room.  "Oh, god, Lois!  Tell 
me I didn't just hear that.  Please tell me that all those people 
didn't die because of me."

She touched his cheek in a gentle caress.  "Sweetheart, it's not your 
fault.  It's Intergang's responsibility."

Clark clutched her in his arms.  "On an intellectual level, I 
understand that.  But it doesn't help the way I feel, knowing that 
innocent people are dead, because of me."  His voice was anguished.

"Shh."  Lois tried to comfort him.  "It's not because of you.  It's 
because of Bill Church's greed.  It's nothing to do with you."  She 
squeezed him tightly.

"Lois, honey, how can you say that?"  He rewound the tape and pushed 
play.  "Eight people died, just to keep me out of the way."

The disembodied voice came over the air, "Superman and the police 
were occupied with that chain-reaction crash on the beltway.... I 
thought it worked pretty well.  Of course, we'll have to have a 
different diversion next time.  The unexpected is always more 
effective.  I'm thinking of  a fire in a high-rise."

"See?  God, Lois, I feel...I don't know.  Sick, I think."

"No, Clark, I don't see."  She turned in his arms to face him.  "This 
Darryl person said, 'Superman and the police.'  He'd have created the 
same diversion whether you existed or not.  It was directed at anyone 
who stood in his way."  She turned worried eyes on him.  "Clark, you 
have to believe me.  You ... are... not ... responsible for anything 
anyone else does."

His eyes glittered with unshed tears.  Burying his face in her hair, 
he swallowed the lump in his throat.  "All right, Lois.  It's not my 
fault.  Tell me often enough, and I may even start to believe you."

*******************

On top of the Metropolis Trade Center, Diana Stride purred with 
satisfaction as Superman flew away.  "I do so love success, don't 
you, Rolf?"

Her cameraman eyed her warily.  "But, of course, Diana.  I take eet 
zat you managed to plant zee tracer on Monsieur Steely Pants?"

The "Top Copy" anchorwoman sighed.  "Yes, Rolf.  Now turn on the 
tracking device and see if it picks him up."

Rolf obeyed her command, pushing several buttons on a hand-held 
device that resembled a small video game machine.  The pair watched 
in amazement as a small lighted blip streaked across the LCD screen 
and disappeared.  Despite his best efforts to adjust the settings on 
the device, Rolf was unable to pick up the signal again.

"Why did you lose him?" Diana snapped.

"He eez too fast.  And now he eez out of range."  Rolf looked at his 
superior with an expression that clearly indicated he expected some 
sort of reprisal for his failure.

His face fell when her sole response was a brusque, "Never mind. 
We'll get him in range again, and then we'll have him."  She found 
her purse and shot an impatient glare at him.  "Come along, Rolf.  We 
need to get going.  We have a superhero to track, or had you 
forgotten?"

As they returned to ground level in the Trade Center's elevator, 
Diana outlined her plan to Rolf.  "I intend to find out all there is 
to know about Superman: who his friends are, where he goes when he 
isn't saving the day, what his likes and dislikes are, who the women 
in his life are."

"I'd like to know heez women myself," Rolf interrupted.

"Control yourself, Rolf; if that's possible.

A knowing leer was his only reply.

Diana continued to explain her concept.  "This could be the story of 
the century!  Who knows?  Maybe we could win a Pulitzer Prize. 
Especially if we discover his secret identity."

"What makes you zeenk he has a secret identity?"

"Oh, he must.  No one ever sees him except on rescues or at official functions."

The cameraman continued to play devil's advocate.  "Maybe he has some 
sort of secret lair.  Maybe he eez a recluse, except when he eez 
needed."

She paused a brief moment to consider Rolf's suggestion, then 
rejected it .  "No, he doesn't seem like the reclusive type.  That 
man definitely would be one to seek out companionship.  He has 
another identity.  I'm sure of it."

Leaving the building, Rolf turned again to Diana.  "So, what eez zee plan?"

"We are going to comb Metropolis until we pick up the signal again. 
And then we're going to follow it.  With any luck, we'll catch him 
unawares and be able to film the expose tonight."  An unholy gleam 
lit up her eyes.  There was no way that Superman would be able to 
deny his identity when they caught up with him.

Several hours later, after the two had cruised the streets of 
Metropolis in increasingly larger circuits, the tracking device began 
to beep.

"Rolf, is it picking up the signal?"  Diana could scarcely contain 
her excitement.

"Mais, oui, Diana.  We need to follow zat road to zee left."  He 
pointed at a dark, deserted street that went through the more 
industrial section of the city.

The newswoman drove carefully, able to keep her impatience in check 
only because she feared losing the signal if she let her 
concentration slip.  The blip on the screen, however, and the beeping 
noise that the tracer made remained steady, always a mile or two in 
front of them.  Finally, the light appeared to come to a stop.

"Aha!  We've found heem!"  Rolf was beginning to share Diana's 
elation.  "He's about a mile farther down zees road."

Diana pressed down on the accelerator, her impatience almost palpable 
in the confines of the car.  With an exultant exclamation, she pulled 
to a stop --  in front of the gates to the Metropolis Sewage 
Reclamation Facility.  She stared incredulously at the sign for a 
minute before she cursed, "Damn him!"

"What eez eet, Diana?  Superman eez a garbage man?"

The fulminating glare she turned on him would have daunted a man less 
dense than Rolf.  "No, you dolt!  Superman isn't anywhere near here. 
The tracer is here.  He must have discovered it and washed it off 
somehow."  She pounded her fist on the steering wheel in frustration. 
"Damn, damn, damn."  Looking back up at her cameraman, she gave a 
feral smile.  "Well, that's that.  I'll have to think of some other 
way."  She restarted the engine.  "Time to go home and go to bed, 
Rolf."

His face lit up.  "Together?"

Rolf's enthusiasm subsided under the venomous look she gave him.

****************

Clark clamped down on the emotions which threatened to overwhelm him. 
Grief for the people who had died warred with anger at the men who 
had callously caused those deaths in order to distract him and the 
police.  There were times when he questioned his decision to create 
Superman.  If criminals were going to injure, and in this case even 
kill, innocent people to get to him, was it right to continue in that 
guise?  On days like this, those doubts would come rushing to the 
forefront of his consciousness.  If it weren't for Lois' steadfast 
belief in the importance of Superman, he knew he'd be strongly 
tempted to quit, to leave Metropolis, and to seek some out of the way 
spot where criminals would leave the innocent alone.  He placed a 
kiss on her forehead and gently pushed her far enough away to see her 
face.

Lois raised concerned eyes to his.  "You okay?"

"No, but I will be."  He kissed her again, this time on the lips, and 
released her from his clasp.  "Thank you."

"Anytime."  She smiled at her boyfriend, then reverted to the 
tenacious reporter.  "All right, Clark.  It's after ten.  Let's 
decide on our next step and then call it a night.  You look like you 
could use some sleep."

Clark removed his glasses and wearily rubbed the bridge of his nose. 
"It's been a long day."  He sighed, his exhaustion obvious to Lois. 
"So, what do you want to do first?"

"Well, I think the first step is to play this tape for Perry.  He 
isn't going to like it, but he needs to know."

"That his friend is the head of Intergang?  Yeah, I'd say he isn't 
gonna like it at all."

Lois suddenly went off on  a tangent.  "Clark, has it ever struck you 
as odd -- how Perry is normally extremely astute, almost omniscient 
at times; and yet he has managed to be completely fooled by at least 
two major league crooks?"

"Yeah, I see what you mean.  You'd think he'd suspect something was 
fishy with both Harland and Church.  Strange."  He continued, "And if 
you think about it, it's a little weird how he doesn't seem to 
suspect anything about me.  No one else disappears the way I do, but 
he's never said anything to me about not being in the newsroom when I 
should be."

Lois smiled at him.  "I'm not so sure he doesn't, Clark.  Since the 
night you told me, I've noticed that he does ask where you are, if 
there isn't any Superman news on TV.  If there is, like this morning, 
he acts oblivious to your existence.  If I had to bet, I'd say he 
suspects that you are Superman, but isn't saying anything to you."

Clark shrugged his shoulders.  "You really think so?  Maybe that's 
why he hasn't fired me.  Well, if he isn't going to say anything, I'm 
not either."  He continued, "Okay, back to our plans.  We talk to 
Perry and then what -- Henderson?"

"Clark, why should we talk to him yet? It's not like we've got any 
evidence that would be admissible in court."

"True, but the police may have resources that we don't; and if we 
give them this, then we can get Henderson to give us the exclusive." 
He took a deep breath, "And the police need to know what they're up 
against, the same as Superman.  I don't really care who nails 
Intergang, as long as somebody does."

"Okay, Perry, then Henderson."  A thought struck her.  "Or should we 
save time and talk to both of them together?"

"That'll work.  Then we need to see what we can dig up on this Mr. 
Darryl.  Suppose it's his real name?"

"I have no idea.  Maybe Jimmy can find out something about him." 
Lois looked intently into Clark's eyes.  "And we also need to check 
into Diana Stride."

Clark blinked in surprise.  "Diana Stride?  Why?"

Lois shook her head sadly.  "Clark, sometimes you can be so dumb. 
The woman jumped off a forty-story building just to get the 
opportunity to plant a tracking device on your body.  I think she's 
up to something."

"Lois, she planted the tracer on Superman."

"Uh, do I need to remind you?  *You* are Superman."

He grinned at her.  "Oh, yeah.  I forgot."

Her mouth twisted in a wry smile.  "I'll just bet you did.  At any 
rate, she has to have some motive."  Lois was pensive for a minute. 
"You think that she's picked up the signal yet?  I'd give my eyeteeth 
to know what her reaction was when she wound up at the sewage plant."

Her partner's laughter rang out.  "Do you think she actually got out 
of her car to go look?"

"Not funny, Kent.  You may think I have forgotten that, but I 
haven't.  I still itch just thinking about it."

"I'm sorry, Lois.  I really am.  I tried to warn you, but you 
wouldn't listen, remember?"  His twinkling eyes and twitching mouth 
belied his contrite words.

"Yeah.  Right.  Just don't let it happen again."  She playfully 
slapped his arm.  "And then you were so proud of yourself.  I could 
have killed you."

"No, you couldn't have.  You didn't have any Kryptonite."  Clark's 
tone was smug.

"Ooh, do you have any idea how aggravating it is when you get that 
tone in your voice?"

"Yep.  That's why I do it."  He grinned again.  The teasing banter 
was cheering him immensely.  He enveloped Lois in a warm embrace. 
"Honey, I love you.  I love you more than I can say."  He bent his 
head to kiss her.

"I love you, too."  She gave herself up to his kiss, reveling in the 
thought that this most wonderful of men loved her.  Life couldn't be 
much better than this.

Several long minutes later, she pulled back from his gentle lips. 
"Clark, I think it's time for me to go."

He placed his hand on her cheek, threading his fingers through her 
hair.  "In a minute.  I need a little more of this."  He slanted his 
lips across hers again and sighed.  "Lois, please don't ever leave 
me."

"I won't, Clark," she promised.

Disengaging himself from their embrace, he stood and pulled her to 
her feet.  "Want a lift?"

"Sure."

He spun into the Suit, and took her hand.  "Come on."  They moved to 
the patio.  Scooping her into his arms, he took off into the night 
sky.  In a matter of minutes, he was floating through her window.  He 
placed her gently on the floor and kissed her again.  "Goodnight, 
Lois."

"Goodnight, Clark.  You go home and get some sleep, do you hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am."  He smiled at her again and flew away.

***************

Diana Stride returned to her penthouse to find the signal light 
buzzing.  She activated the video conference apparatus to find Mr. 
Darryl on the other end.  "What do you want?" she demanded.

"Diana, I'd think you'd be a little more polite," he chided her.  "I 
have an assignment for you."

"Have you forgotten, I'm retired?" she replied.

"You're on hiatus.  No one retires from Intergang, Diana.  You know 
that."  He smiled at her.  "Besides, I think you'll like this 
assignment."

"Yes?"  Her tone was not encouraging.

"I want you to start a fire in a high-rise office building next 
Thursday at precisely nine-thirty in the morning.  You can choose 
which one."

"Whatever for?"

"Let's just say I want Superman to be busy at that time, and leave it at that."

Diana thought rapidly.  "I have a better idea.  Let me kill him."

Mr. Darryl was astounded.  "How do you propose to do that?  The man 
is invulnerable."

"Not completely.  There was a green mineral that Lex Luthor had. 
Supposedly the 'Man of Steel' is not immune to its radiation.  Can 
you get me some?"

"I can try.  Then what?"

She quickly filled him in on the details of her plan.  She smiled in 
satisfaction.  Superman would never know what had hit him until it 
was too late.

"All right, Diana.  I'll get the mineral and have it transformed into 
a paste.  What else do you need?"

"I need a tracking device that can pick up on the Kryptonite.  He 
won't be able to get rid of that."

"Diana, it will take a day or two.  I'll contact you when everything is ready."

"Thank you.  This will work.  And then no one will ever have to worry 
about Superman's interference again."

"Good night, Diana."  Darryl cut the connection.

Humming, "I'll get you under your skin," Diana went to prepare 
herself for sleep, a broad smile on her face.  No one, not even 
Superman, pulled a trick on her and survived her wrath.

******************

The next morning, Clark arrived at the newsroom to find Lois already 
hard at work, searching the Planet's database for information on 
Diana Stride.  Dropping a white bakery sack on her desk, he leaned 
over and placed a light kiss on her lips.

She leaned into the kiss, then looked at the bag.  "Umm.  Something 
smells good.  What's this?"

"Pain au chocolat.  I thought you might have skipped breakfast when 
you didn't answer the phone this morning."  He perched on the corner 
of her desk.

"I knew there was a reason I go out with you.  Let me guess, from a 
'little French bakery' you know?"

"But of course."  He smiled at her.

"Why did you call?  Has something come up?"

"I just wanted to let you know that I already talked to Henderson. 
He's coming over at nine to hear the tape along with Perry."

"Oh, good.  That'll work.  Anything else on the Diana front?"

"No.  What have you come up with?"

"Check this out.  She was in Army Intelligence, then suddenly 
appeared at a TV station in Omaha.  From there she began her rise to 
stardom as the anchor on "Top Copy."  She brought up a screen showing 
the pictures of six men.  "Clark, what do these men have in common?"

"They're all famous."

"Powerful."

He grimaced.  "Dead."

"And they were all interviewed by Diana Stride right before their 
deaths."  Lois looked at her partner in triumph.

Clark leaned across her desk, his right arm out-stretched, his 
fingers straining for something.  "Lois, what am I doing right now?"

"Grasping?"

He shook his head in denial.

"Stretching?"  A quick look at him indicated that this, too, was not 
what he had in mind.  "Reaching?"

Clark pulled his arm back as he replied, "Ah.  And I am not the only 
one."  His smile mitigated the sting of his words, but Lois was 
undeterred.

"I disagree.  Clark, do you really believe that there is nothing 
wrong with that woman?  Think about it.  Last night she  tried to tag 
Superman as if he were an animal she wanted to track.  *Why* do you 
suppose she'd do that?"

He shrugged his shoulders.  "I don't know.  Maybe she wants to track 
him down for an interview."

"Honestly, Clark.  Sometimes you can take optimism too far.  If all 
she wanted to do was interview Superman, why not just say so?  There 
was no need for that elaborate plan if that was all she wanted." 
Lois glanced up at the ceiling.  "No, it's got to be something more, 
something big."

Clark gave Lois a helpless look.  "I guess I'm not seeing it.  What 
else could she want?"

Lois gave an exasperated sigh.  "Think about it, Clark.  Either, her 
desire to get close to Superman is purely journalistic or it's 
something else.  If it's just for her TV show, it's still not good."

"Why?"

"Haven't you ever watched 'Top Copy?'"

"Uh, actually, no.  It's on at the same time as football."  Clark 
gave her a sheepish grin.

"It's a tabloid program.  Every week they expose the dirty little 
secrets of the rich and famous."  She paused.  "Usually without the 
cooperation or consent of the subjects.  I'd be willing to bet that 
if she really is doing a story, the headline will be, 'The Secret 
life of Superman.'"

Decidedly ill at ease, Clark asked, "And your second theory?"

"My second theory is that she's an assassin.  Probably for Intergang. 
Most of these men stepped on Intergang's toes in some way or another. 
They were promptly interviewed by Diana Stride, and met with untimely 
'accidental' deaths shortly thereafter.  I don't know about you, but 
I'd really rather that not happen to Superman."

He swallowed.  "Yeah, I'd have to go with you on that.  Although I 
think I'm more worried about the first scenario."

"What?!"  Lois hissed.  "Clark, are you crazy?"

"I don't think so.  If she is trying to find out about Superman's 
secret identity, then we have to prevent that."

"Well, that might be easier said than done.  Think about the stunt 
she pulled last night.  What do you suppose she'll come up with next 
time?  And what's to stop her from trying to accomplish both 
scenarios?"

"Lois, calm down."

In an undertone she complained, "He tells me to calm down.  How am I 
supposed to calm down when my whole life is about to fall apart?"

Putting a finger under her chin to lift it, he said gently, "Whose life?"

"Mine, Clark.  And yours.  Do you not see that whatever affects you 
affects me?"  She choked on her words.  "If anything were to happen 
to you, I don't think I could bear it."

"Lois, nothing is going to happen to me.  Don't worry about it."

"I wish I could be so sure.  I don't trust that woman, especially 
with what we learned about Intergang's plans last night."

Clark put a hand on Lois' shoulder.  "Will it help if I promise to be careful?"

"That depends."

"On?"

"On if your promise to be careful is the same as mine."  She smiled 
at him and patted his arm.  "If it is, then no, it won't help."

"And what exactly would make a promise like yours not help?  Am I 
hearing that you admit that you take unnecessary risks?  That you 
jump off the cliff without seeing how far down it is?  That you rush 
into things impulsively?  And that maybe, just maybe, someone who 
cares about you, who loves you, might worry?"

"Fine, Clark.  I'll admit that sometimes I'm a bit impulsive; and 
once in a while, I wind up in trouble because of it.  I'll even grant 
you the right to worry.  But then you have to agree that sometimes it 
works the other way."

"In what way?"

Lois rolled her eyes.  "Clark, I am not the only one here who 
sometimes doesn't consider all the possible consequences and winds up 
in trouble.  Need I remind you?"

He cut her off quickly.  "Uh, no, Lois.  I got your point.  All 
right.  I promise to try to be careful around Diana Stride.  For now, 
though, I think we should see what we can find out about Mr. Darryl. 
I wouldn't mind having a little more than a name when we talk to 
Perry and Bill Henderson."

"Okay.  I guess if we both look, we're more likely to come up with 
something in the next half hour."  She looked him warmly.  "Thanks 
again for my pastry."

"You're welcome."  He moved to his own desk and booted up his computer.

The pair of reporters spent the next half hour researching the 
background of the elusive Mr. Darryl.  They were interrupted by 
Inspector Henderson's arrival.  "Lois, Clark!"  They rose and went to 
meet him at the ramp.  "What's up?"

Lois spoke first.  "Come on over to Perry's office.  We'll fill both 
of you in at the same time."

Perry looked up at his star reporters when Clark knocked on the 
doorjamb.  "Chief, Inspector Henderson's here."

The Planet's editor rose to greet the detective.  "Good mornin', 
Bill.  Glad you could make it," he drawled.

The laconic policeman almost smiled.  "Clark here said he and Lois 
had something I might want to hear.  It better be good."

"Oh, it will be," Lois retorted.  She pulled the micro-recorder out 
of her pocket,  and after checking to see that both doors were 
closed, pushed the "play" button.

Silence reigned in the office as the conversation between Bill Church 
and the mysterious Mr. Darryl unspooled.  Lois slanted a look at 
Clark, noticing the muscle twitching in his jaw.  She reached out in 
silent comfort and squeezed his hand.  Perry and Henderson looked 
appalled.  When the tape ended, no one said a word for a moment.

Perry broke the silence.  "Well, I'll be damned."  He gave a low whistle.

"Very interesting conversation."  Henderson's dour countenance gave 
no hint of his emotions.  "Too bad that it's inadmissible in court."

Clark spoke up.  "We know that, Bill.  But we thought you might want 
to know what's going on; what the police are up against.  And it 
gives us all a place to start looking."

"Thanks.  So, what else have you and Lois got?"  Henderson inclined 
his head in her direction.

"Well, we've managed to find out a little about this Mr. Darryl.  His 
name is Jon Darryl.  He was an officer in Army Intelligence years 
ago.  He left the military on a general discharge about ten years 
ago."

Perry interjected, "Anything else?"

"He went to college with Martin Snell, so there is a possible link 
with Intergang," Clark replied.  He glanced at Lois, wondering if she 
was going to bring up Diana Stride.

She did.  "And, then there is his connection with Diana Stride." 
Lois smiled a little smugly.  That was something she hadn't had time 
to share with Clark.  "She was in Army Intelligence herself, until 
she left to pursue her career in journalism.  And her company 
commander was Jon Darryl."  If a look could have said, "I told you 
so," then the one she turned on Clark would have.  "Both of them were 
involved in covert operations.  She was an expert marksman."  Lois 
paused a minute to let that bit of information sink in.  She went on, 
"And then there is the extremely high number of mysterious deaths 
that follow her interviews."

Henderson and Perry gaped at her.  "You gonna explain that?"  her editor asked.

"Lois discovered that at least six world leaders have died in bizarre 
accidents shortly after being interviewed by Diana Stride.  All of 
them were men who had spoken out publicly against Intergang or were 
trying to combat it.  Lois thinks it's more than just coincidence," 
Clark explained.

"And don't forget what she did to Superman last night."  Lois avoided 
Clark's gaze.

"What was that?" the detective wanted to know.

"He told us that he rescued her from a fall from the top of the 
Metropolis Trade Center.  He later discovered that she had stuck some 
sort of tracer on his neck," Lois rushed to explain.  "It seems 
awfully fishy to me.  I think she's up to something."

Clark tried unsuccessfully to deflect attention away from the subject 
of Superman.  "I doubt that the two situations are related."

"Don't be so naive, Clark.  I think she's an assassin for Intergang, 
and Superman is her next intended victim."  She turned worried eyes 
towards him.  "Even if she can't kill him, maybe her role is to 
divert him.  Maybe she's the one who fired those shots yesterday. 
Maybe she's the one who'll be setting the fire next week."

He couldn't deny that possibility.  "All right, Lois.  You have a 
point.  What do you two think?"  He turned to the other two men.

"Well, son," Perry drawled, "I think that you all are on to 
something.  I also think that Bill Church has done one hell of a job 
coverin' his tracks for a long time.  I never suspected him of 
anything like this."  His shoulders slumped.

Henderson grimaced.  "Thanks, you two.  You've given me something we 
can work with at least.  I assume that you'll be pursuing this?"

"You better believe it,"  Lois replied.  "Here's the deal: you share 
what you get; we'll share what we discover."

"And we won't print anything until you say so,"  Clark hastened to add.

"All right.  Keep in touch, and be careful.  These people are 
extremely dangerous."  Henderson's tight smile reached his eyes. 
"See you later."  He moved towards the door.

Clark was right with him, reaching to open it for him.  "Thanks, 
Bill.  We appreciate your coming over.  Lois and I really didn't want 
to go through that conversation twice."  Clark continued on to his 
desk while the police inspector left the newsroom.

Lois glanced at Perry, concern evident in her face.  "Chief, are you okay?"

"Sure, honey.  Why wouldn't I be?"

"Uh, I just thought that finding out that your friend was the head of 
Intergang might have upset you."

"No, I'm all right.  I'm just wondering how I could have been so 
blind, that's all."

Lois chuckled.  "Well, at least you didn't say you'd marry him.  I 
think I've got you beat."

Perry looked at her in surprise.  It was the first time he had ever 
heard her even try to joke about Lex Luthor.  She must really have 
gotten over the trauma.  Chalk another point up for Clark Kent.  The 
editor felt a sense of satisfaction about having paired the two 
reporters.  It had turned out even better he had imagined it would. 
He smiled.  "Yes, I guess you do have me beat.  Now go on, get back 
to work.  We've got a newspaper to put out, and right now I don't see 
anything that I can print."

Lois walked slowly back to her desk.  She and Clark had a lot of work 
to do before they could prove any of their suspicions.  A quick look 
at his desk showed he was engrossed in a file.  She turned back to 
her computer monitor.  There had to be more than just a superficial 
link between Darryl and Intergang.  She dug back into her research.

Two hours later she looked over at her partner.  He had left briefly 
earlier, a house fire claiming the superhero's attention.  It must 
not have been too bad, though, because he had returned quickly, a 
smile on his face.  She loved that smile.  His whole face lit up with 
it.  Sometimes she thought fancifully that Clark's smile must be what 
an angel's looked like.  He positively glowed at times.  And he 
usually smiled that way when he was looking at her.  She hugged that 
thought to herself.  He really was amazing.

Lois stretched her arms and rubbed at her neck.  Her movement caught 
Clark's attention, and he rose and came over to her desk.  Placing 
his large hands on her shoulders, he gently massaged them.  "Hmm, 
that feels wonderful.  Don't ever stop."

He laughed.  "You don't really mean that, do you?"

"Sure I do.  Why not?"

"Because if I never stop this, we'll both get fired; and you won't be 
able to afford chocolate."

"Ooh, that is a tough decision."  She pondered the situation for a 
minute.  "Okay.  You can stop in a minute.  It feels great, though."

"Always happy to help."  He dropped a light kiss on the top of her 
head.  "So, what have you found out?"

"Not enough.  More circumstantial evidence linking Darryl to Church. 
He's a vice-president with Multiworld Communications."

"Now, *that* is very interesting.  But as you say, circumstantial." 
He furrowed his brow in thought.  Doesn't Multiworld Communications 
produce 'Top Copy?'"

"Yep.  It's their highest rated show.  And Multiworld owns the 
station in Omaha where Diana started."

"Which brings us to another link between Diana and Darryl."

"None of which implicates her in any crime whatsoever, Clark."  Lois 
was a bit frustrated.  Every instinct she had was shouting that Diana 
was in Intergang, was undoubtedly the secret assassin she'd been 
reading about.  But nothing she had found so far had turned up one 
shred of proof.

Clark froze suddenly, his expression that of a deer caught in the 
headlights of an oncoming vehicle.  He was apparently hearing 
something that only he could hear, and from his expression, it wasn't 
good.  As Lois opened her mouth to speak, he reached out a hand to 
forestall her.  "Shh.  Let me listen."

Lois subsided for the moment.  A minute later, Clark returned to 
normal.  "She's here -- in the building.  And as much as I hate to 
think you're going to say you told me so, you were right."

"I was?  About what?"

"About her being up to something.  I just heard her tell her 
cameraman that she's going to track down Superman and expose him. 
And that nothing is going to stand in her way."

"So how do you want to deal with her?" Lois asked.

"I don't know.  Got any ideas?"  He looked at her with hope in his eyes.

"For starters, she can't know anything.  I say, stay here as Clark. 
We may find out more that way."

"All right.  We better put any Intergang-related material away.  We 
don't want her to know what we suspect."  He moved off to his desk to 
close the file he'd been working on.

Lois did the same, completing her task just as the elevator pinged, 
signaling its arrival.  She raised her eyes and watched as Diana 
Stride and her cameraman swept into the newsroom.  Jimmy intercepted 
them at the foot of the ramp.

"May I help you?" he asked them.  "Uh, are you Diana Stride?"

"Yes, I am; and yes, you may.  We're looking for Perry White.  Is he 
in?"  She and Rolf started to breeze right past Jimmy, but he stepped 
up his pace in order to keep up with her.

"Uh, yeah.  Mr. White's in his office.  I'll show you there."  He 
walked with them in the direction of the editor's office.

She looked him over and smiled.

"You are just delicious, young man."

Jimmy was so astonished he almost ran into a pillar.  After 
recovering his equilibrium, he led the two television journalists to 
the editor's office.  Knocking on the door, he cleared his throat. 
"Uh, Chief?  Diana Stride is here to see you."

"Well, show her in, son."  Perry rose to greet the visitor.  "To what 
do we owe the honor, Ms. Stride?"

"Please, call me Diana," she purred.  "It's an honor for me to meet you."

The editor raised his brows at the blatant flattery, but said 
nothing.  "How can I help you?"  he asked.

Diana jumped into her cover story.  "Top Copy is doing a tribute to 
Superman.  We know he has lots of friends at the Daily Planet, so we 
thought we'd start here with some interviews.  If that's all right 
with you," she hastened to add.

"That'd be fine, as long as people aren't disturbed as they work." 
Perry smiled at her genially.  He was curious, himself, about her 
motives.  After what Lois and Clark had told him, he suspected that a 
"tribute to Superman" was the farthest thing from her mind.  "Come 
along then.  I'll introduce you to the people who probably know him 
the best."

He led her out of his office, Rolf following in their wake.  Clark 
and Lois were both at her desk, going over some copy on her monitor 
screen.  "Lois, Clark.  I want to introduce you to somebody."

They looked up at the sound of Perry's voice.  "Diana Stride, this is 
the fella I was telling you about.  Clark Kent is a pretty good 
friend of Superman's.  And Lois, here, knows him well, too."

"I wonder why I've never met you before," she purred as she extended 
her hand to Clark.  "But then, I've read everything you've ever 
written."

"Really?  Even the one about the mating habits of the knob-tailed 
gecko?"  Lois mumbled.  More loudly, she said, "I didn't think 
television people had time to read newspapers."

Clark choked back a laugh.

"And Lois Lane.  It is a pleasure."  Diana's tones left no doubt that 
she had little interest in Lois.

"How can we help you?"  Clark's voice was cool.  He had noticed the 
TV newswoman's interested stare at him and was ill at ease under her 
scrutiny.

"As I was telling Perry White, 'Top Copy' is going to do a tribute to 
Superman.  I need to find out more about him as a person.  Since you 
two are supposed to be his closest friends, I'd like to interview 
you."  She gave them what she hoped would be a sincere smile.

Lois jumped in quickly.  "Actually, Ms. Stride, I don't know that 
there is anything interesting we could tell you.  Superman is a 
pretty private person."

Diana purred again.  "Oh, I'm sure that if I ask you the right 
questions, you'll be able to think of something about the Man of 
Steel.  Don't you think so, Clark?"

Clark swallowed the butterflies that were crawling from his stomach 
up his throat.  "I doubt it, Ms. Stride.  He pretty much flies to a 
crime or accident, deals with it, and flies off.  If he has a 
personal life, I wouldn't know about it."  He shook his head sadly. 
"Sorry."

His partner looked at her watch.  "Oh, my!  Look at the time.  Clark, 
if we're going to meet that source, we need to get going."  She gave 
Diana Stride an apologetic smile.  "Sorry we couldn't be of more 
help, but I'm sure you understand."

"I can't say that I'm not disappointed, but I do understand.  I'll be 
in touch.  Good-bye, Clark, Lois."

Clark smiled tightly and followed his partner from the newsroom. 
"Thanks, Lois.  I owe you one."

She laughed gaily.  "Oh, at least one.  Maybe two.  Then again, I 
didn't like the way she kept looking at you."

"What way?"  Clark's confusion was obvious.

"Like she wanted you for lunch and dessert as well."  Lois grinned. 
"Nobody but me gets to do that."

"I see."  He paused, then asked, "Are we meeting a source?"

"No, but you looked like you wanted to get out of there.  So, wanna 
go get lunch?"

"Sure."  He took her hand, and they  headed down the street towards 
their favorite deli.

**********************

The Daily Planet's ace reporting team spent their lunch break 
discussing the best direction to take in their investigation of 
Intergang's smuggling operation.  Clark, as usual, wanted to use a 
methodical approach.  Lois, on the other hand, was trying to push her 
partner into breaking into Bill Church's office at Costmart, Inc. and 
rifling his desk and filing cabinets.  "And we need to be sure to 
take several diskettes, in case we find anything we want to copy from 
his hard-drive."

"Lo...is," Clark began to put on the brakes.  "I can't go along with 
that at all.  We'll be better off in the long run if we go about this 
legally."

"Cla...rk," she parroted.  "You get this tone sometimes when you 
don't agree with me.  You think I don't hear it, but I do."

He grinned ruefully.  "Sorry."

"Look, we both know that we'll probably wind up in Church's office, 
so why not go there first?"

"Because it's dangerous?  Because it's illegal?  Because I'd like to 
be able to have some evidence we can actually use before we do 
anything to tip off Intergang that we're on to them?"

Lois subsided into a pensive silence.  She had to hand it to Clark. 
He really knew how to clinch an argument at times.  The idea that a 
little breaking and entering might be dangerous or against the law 
didn't bother her at all.  That they might tip off Bill Church and 
ruin their chances to bring him down; now *that* was a point she 
could accept.  "All right, Clark.  We do it your way."

"Thank you, Lois."  Another of Clark's traits: he was always gracious 
in victory.  "I think we need to go down to the docks and see if we 
can find any witnesses to the removal of the illegal immigrants from 
the ship.  If we can find out what ship they were on, we can get a 
copy of the cargo manifest."

"And prove that it was falsified?"

"Exactly.  If nothing else, there would be evidence of violation of 
the immigration laws and / or some sort of fraud if the cargo 
manifest shows that something else was supposed to be on that ship."

"Okay.  And after that?" Lois asked. 

"After we check out the ship, then we need to see what we can find 
out about Church's clothing factories."

"Yeah, I didn't know that Costmart had its own factories, did you? 
No wonder their prices are so low, if they're producing their own 
merchandise in what I assume are sweatshops. "  She laughed.  "The 
things you learn when you go out to eat."

"So, you want to go back to Pete's Crab Shack sometime?"  Clark 
teased.  "I could tell how much you enjoyed your dinner last night."

"Oh yeah, right.  And for dessert we could go to Ptomaine Tom's, I 
suppose.  Never let it be said that Lois Lane is not a good sport."

Clark agreed, "Never.  You are definitely a great sport.  Why do you 
think I wanted to date you?"

"I always thought it was because I was so calm, and demure, and 
fawned over your every word.  Was I wrong?"

"Yep.  Completely out in left field."

She swatted his arm.  "Stop with the sports metaphors already, okay?" 
Lois checked her watch.  "I hate to cut short this incredibly 
romantic conversation, but I guess we ought to get moving."

Clark nodded his agreement.  "True.  We need to get down to the 
harbor."  He picked up the debris from their lunch to take to the 
trash can while Lois gathered the notes she had been making.  Those 
simple tasks finished, the pair headed for the parking lot and the 
Jeep.

Once they arrived at Metropolis Harbor, Lois and  Clark strolled 
around the docks, casually asking people if they had noticed anything 
unusual the morning before.  Most of the longshoremen they spoke to 
shrugged casually and said no, but one disreputable-looking man cast 
a wary glance over his shoulder and replied, "Mebbe I seen somethin'. 
What's it to ya?"

"We're reporters for the Daily Planet.  We heard some rumors, and 
we're checking them out."  Lois gave the man her most sincere smile.

"You ain't gonna tell nobody my name, are you?" he asked.

"Not if you don't want us to," Clark hastened to tell him.  "We're 
just trying to find out what happened here yesterday morning around 
eight o'clock."

"D'you mean the fight?"

"The fight?  There was a fight?"  Lois' interest picked up.  She 
wondered if this was the fight Darryl had been talking about in the 
restaurant last night.  "What happened?"

The grizzled denizen of the harbor area continued, "It was kinda 
strange.  Everything was pretty normal; cargoes bein' unloaded, 
trucks and forklifts and cranes all runnin', the usual confusion. 
All of a sudden, these guys over on the dock closest to the harbor 
master's office started yellin' and cussin'.  One of 'em takes a 
swing at another, and the next thing I know, there's mebbe fifty guys 
brawlin.'  Prettiest fight I seen in a coon's age.  It must of took 
the harbor master thirty minutes to get security guards in here to 
break it up."

"I take it that's unusual?" Clark pursued the issue.

"You betcha.  People don't fight much durin' work time.  Now, nights, 
after they've had a few beers, that's different."  He pulled out a 
pack of cigarettes and lit one.  Taking a long drag on it, he 
continued, "Me, I don't fight.  'Specially over nothin'.  So I just 
kinda sat back and took in the sights."  He sucked on the cigarette 
again.  "That's how I happened to notice that the ship over on pier 7 
was unloadin' a most unusual cargo."  He glanced around as if making 
sure that there was no one to overhear.  "I seen a whole boatload of 
people get off that there ship.  Mostly adults, but there was some 
kids, too."

Lois could barely contain her excitement.  "Was it a cruise ship?" she prodded.

"No, ma'am.  It weren't no liner.  It was the 'Lady Luck.'  A big 
freighter.  Sails under a Panamanian flag."

"Don't most freighters do that?" Clark wanted to know.

"Yeah, just like the cruise ships are usually Norwegian.  Anyhow, 
this ship ain't no ocean liner.  But there was a big bunch of people 
gettin' off her."  He paused and took another drag on his Marlboro. 
"They were Asians; I could tell that.  Don't know where from though."

Clark prodded, "Did you see what happened to them after they got off the ship?"

The dockworker went on, "Yeah, they got herded over to some buses 
that were waitin' at the end of the pier.  Dunno where they went."

"This is really interesting, Mr. Uh ... I don't think we got your 
name."  Lois looked at him hopefully.

"That's 'cause I didn't give it to ya," he replied.  "It's Perkins, 
Tom Perkins.  But I don't wancha usin' it."

"We won't, don't worry," Clark reassured him.  "Have you ever seen 
anything like that before?"

"Ya mean lots of people gettin' off a freighter?  Nah, never seen that before."

Lois had one more question.  "Is the 'Lady Luck' still in the harbor?"

"Yes ma'am.  That's her over there, pier 7.  It'll be a few days 
before she's loaded and goes back to sea.  If you want to talk to the 
captain, he's probably on her."

Clark put out his hand.  "We appreciate your time and information, 
Mr. Perkins."

"No problem, man."  Perkins shook his hand, and they parted company. 
He ambled off towards a forklift while they turned towards the 
harbormaster's building.

"So now what, Clark?"

"Now, we see if we can get the harbormaster's version of what 
happened yesterday, and try to get a copy of the 'Lady Luck's' cargo 
manifest from him while we're at it."  Placing his hand at the small 
of her back, Clark guided Lois in the right direction.  "I must 
admit, I like it when things start falling into place."

Lois turned a cynical eye on her Kansas farmboy.  "Yeah?  Well don't 
go counting your chickens or whatever it is you do out on those 
plains.  We still have a long way to go on this."

"I know.  But you have to admit, it's beginning to look like we might 
be able to nail Intergang this time."  Clark's enthusiasm was 
infectious.

She moved in closer to his body and wrapped an arm around his waist. 
"True, very true.  And nothing would give me greater pleasure --"

Clark cut her off abruptly.  "Nothing?  Lois, I'm crushed."  He 
turned big, puppy dog eyes on her and stuck out a quivering lower lip.

She gave his waist a squeeze and giggled.  "You know what I meant. 
I'm talking professionally.  *You* are definitely personal."

"All right.  I'll take your word for it."  His eyes twinkled, a sure 
sign that he was enjoying their banter.

***************

Forty-five minutes later, the reporters left the harbormaster's 
office with a sheaf of documents relating to the "Lady Luck's" cargo 
for its last three trips.  Lois was practically dancing with 
excitement.  "Clark, I think you're right.  We are definitely gonna 
get them."

"Assuming, of course, that we can trace the people who got off that 
ship and prove they are undocumented immigrants.  We need to get back 
to the Planet and see what we can find out about Costmart's 
manufacturing operations."

She nodded her agreement.  "Do you want to call Jimmy and see if 
Diana Stride is still there?  I don't know about you, but I have no 
desire to see that woman again today."

"Jealous?"

"Oh, yeah.  That'll be the day."  Lois took a breath.  "No, I just 
want to get some work done, and I don't want her around while I do 
it."

"I hear you.  It could be a little sticky, investigating her while 
she's investigating me," Clark replied.

Reaching the spot where Lois had parked the Jeep, the couple turned 
towards each other.  Clark pulled Lois close to him and kissed her 
briefly.  "Have I told you how much I enjoy working with you, 
partner?"

"Only about a million times.  It's a good thing I let Perry make you 
my partner, isn't it?"  She returned his kiss.

"Uh huh."  They entered the Jeep, and as Lois started the engine, 
Clark reached for his cellular phone.  He dialed the Planet's number, 
and when he was finally connected to Jimmy, he asked, "Diana Stride 
still there?"  There was a pause, then Lois heard him say, "Right, 
thanks.  No, we just wanted to avoid her.  We'll be back in about 
twenty minutes.  In the meantime, could you pull up whatever we've 
got on Costmart -- financial statements, members of the board of 
directors, subsidiaries, you know the kind of stuff."  A few more 
minutes of silence, then, "Yeah, we need to find out about 
manufacturing subsidiaries, especially.  Thanks, Jimmy."  He cut the 
connection and smiled triumphantly at his partner.  "See, I am good 
for something."

Lois rubbed her hand on his thigh suggestively.  "You're good for a 
number of things, Clark.  Some of which are even work-related."  The 
smoldering look she gave him sent his temperature soaring.  She 
laughed as he ran a finger around a collar that suddenly seemed much 
too tight.  "Like I said, Clark, you're way out of your league."

****************

A large stack of printed material was sitting on Clark's desk when he 
and Lois returned to the newsroom.  "Jimmy has outdone himself," Lois 
told her partner.  "Look at this stuff."  There certainly appeared to 
be a wealth of information:  financial statements, annual reports, 
newspaper clippings, printed copies of web pages -- all relating to 
Costmart and a number of manufacturing firms.

Clark quickly flipped through a folder containing web page downloads. 
He whistled softly.  "Well, I'll be.  Did you know that Sew-Rite 
Clothing is a wholly-owned subsidiary of Costmart, Lois?  As is 
Built-Rite Tools and Buy-Rite Paper Manufacturing?"

His partner gave him a considering look.  "No, I didn't.  But then, 
why should I?"

He chuckled.  "You mean you don't keep up with the business pages?"

"Not hardly."  She was thumbing through Costmart's latest annual 
report.  Buried near the back of the glossy pages was a small section 
devoted to the discount chain's subsidiaries.  "Well, those companies 
are listed here, although they are barely mentioned.  Church must not 
want people looking into them too closely."

"Probably not.  I mean, think about it.  If he's cutting corners to 
save money, it stands to reason that he wouldn't want to draw 
attention to them, doesn't it?"

"Yes."  She had a thought.  "Do you suppose he uses the legitimate 
businesses to launder money for Intergang, or Intergang to provide 
cheap labor for the legitimate companies?"

Clark pondered the question for a minute.  "I'd guess some of both. 
Bill Church has always struck me as a man who values efficiency," he 
commented wryly.

"True.  And it would make it even more difficult for anyone to track 
down the details for evidence of any criminal activity."

"Which could explain why no one has ever been able to prove anything 
against Intergang."  Clark rubbed the back of his neck.  "Is it just 
me, or has this been a long day?"

Lois looked up at him, concern in her gaze.  "It's only five, Clark. 
You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, just tired, I guess."

"Or maybe stressed?  This thing with Intergang really bothers you, 
doesn't it?  And I have a feeling that Diana Stride hasn't done much 
for your peace of mind."

Sometimes, Clark thought, Lois saw entirely too much.  He didn't want 
her to worry about him but felt powerless to stop her.  So 
occasionally he tried not to let her see how worried or tired he was. 
Apparently it hadn't worked this time.  "Not really.  As long as she 
doesn't catch me changing, what can she do?  She doesn't have any 
proof of anything.  Not even that Superman has another identity."

Lois sighed.  "I know.  But I still don't trust her.  I wish we had 
been able to get some concrete evidence against her."  She started to 
organize the papers they had been perusing.  "Why don't we get out of 
here, and finish this at home?  We can pick up some dinner or order 
something, and get this pretty much wrapped up tonight."

"Okay.  And tomorrow, we can take a quick trip to the Sew-Rite 
factory; and see if they have any new employees."

"Yep.  Sounds like we've got ourselves a plan.  Come on, partner." 
She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the elevator.

"Lois, were you planning on telling Perry we're leaving early?"

"Sure."  She called over her shoulder, "Perry!  Clark and I are 
leaving!  See you tomorrow."  She dragged him up the ramp.

Clark was forced to shake his head and follow her.  "Mad Dog" Lane 
had a new bone to chew on, and nobody was going to get in her way.

************

Several hours and four cartons of Chinese take-out later, Lois 
stretched her arms high above her head.  Smiling devilishly at Clark, 
she said, "I think that's it.  I'm no accountant, but it looks to me 
like the only way that Costmart can be making the profits that it is, 
is if there's a whole lot of cost-cutting going on."

"I agree completely.  I think we can start writing this up.  By the 
time we visit Sew-Rite, we should have everything we need to get 
Church on running a sweatshop and bringing in illegal aliens, if 
nothing else."  Clark grinned at his partner, his girlfriend.  "Come 
here," he growled.  "Enough work.  It's time for a little play."  He 
pulled her into his embrace, his lips raining gentle kisses on her 
forehead and cheeks.

Lois wrapped her arms around his waist and gave herself up to the 
sensations that were threatening to overwhelm her.  Returning his 
kisses, she moaned softly.  "God, Clark, to think that I made us wait 
a year for this.  Boy, what a dope I was."

"We both were, Lois.  And it doesn't matter anymore.  What's 
important is that we're together now."  He ran his fingers through 
her hair.  "What's the advertising department calling us?  The 
hottest team in town?"

She giggled.  "Yeah, if they only knew.  Think we should tell 'em?"

"Lo...is!"  Clark protested.  "No, I do not.  It's bad enough that 
Jimmy and Perry keep looking at us like they can't decide whether to 
chaperone us or leave us undisturbed in the supply closet."

"The supply closet?  You want to make-out in the supply closet?" she 
repeated. "You are a strange one, Clark Kent."

"Yes, and you love it."

****************

The next morning, Perry looked up from the layout he was checking on 
his desk to see Lois and Clark at his door.  "Gotta minute, Chief?" 
they asked in unison.

"Sure thing.  You all have anything more concrete on Intergang?"  He 
motioned to them to take a seat.

"Not sure about that, yet, Perry.  But we're close.  We do have a lot 
on Costmart, which should lead us to Intergang," Clark explained as 
they entered his office and handed him the story they had written up 
the night before.  "We wanted to run it by you before we take a 
little trip upstate."

"Upstate?" the editor queried.

"Yes, Chief.  We thought we'd take a little factory tour."  Lois was 
almost bouncing with excitement.  Her reporter's instincts were 
sizzling today.  The Sew-Rite factory would hold the key evidence, 
she was certain.  And then she and Clark would have all they needed 
to bring down Intergang, and win a Pulitzer as well.

Perry carefully scrutinized the pages they had handed him.  After 
asking a couple of questions for clarification and making a few notes 
in the margins, he returned the copy to Clark.  "All right, you two. 
Get the rest of the corroborating evidence at the factory about the 
workers, and I'll run this as soon as we get Henderson's okay."

"Thanks, Perry."  Lois started to stand, but a glare from the editor 
froze her in her seat.

"There is one other thing I need to mention to you two."  His 
expression was grim.  "I realize that you are extremely suspicious of 
Diana Stride and her so-called 'tribute to Superman.'  I also 
understand that the two of you are closer to Superman than anyone 
else in Metropolis, if not the world.  So I thought I'd let you know 
that your show of ignorance yesterday didn't sit too well with her. 
She's more suspicious than ever of Superman havin' some sort of 
secret life."  He paused for a long moment, allowing his words to 
sink in.  "Diana and that slimy cameraman of hers were here for hours 
yesterday, interviewin' anyone who would talk to them.  Judgin' from 
the questions she asked me, and the questions I heard her askin' 
other people, she's doin' a pretty fair job of narrowin' down her 
search."

The two reporters stared at their editor afraid to let their eyes 
meet and give something away.  They listened in a  silence which 
quickly turned to alarm as Perry continued.  "If I were a bettin' 
man, I'd bet that Diana Stride is about to try to prove that Superman 
is someone at the Daily Planet."

"Who, Perry?" Lois managed to gasp.

"I'm not sure who, honey.  But you and Clark might want to think about 
what you can tell her to keep her happy."  He gave the pair a stern 
look.  "Superman is your friend.  I'm sure you all want to do what 
you can to protect his privacy."  He smiled then.  "If I were you, 
I'd come up with somethin' that'll satisfy her."

They continued to gape at him.  "So what are you all waitin' for?  I 
thought you had a trip to make?"

The reporters rose and took their leave.  Neither one spoke a 
syllable as they gathered their coats, notepads, and Lois' purse. 
Lois was frantically thinking of ways to combat Diana's plan to 
expose Superman's private life to the world.

Clark, for his part, was feeling completely numb.  When he had donned 
the disguise the year before, the last thought on his mind had been 
that people would react in the varied ways that they had.  Clark had 
just wanted to use his gifts to help other people.  He hadn't wanted 
fame or publicity or power.  And he certainly didn't want to have his 
secret identity exposed to the world on network television.  But as 
much as he wanted Diana Stride to fail in her quest, he had no idea 
how to ensure that  she would.  Maybe Lois would come up with a plan. 
She was good at that.

As they reached the Jeep, Lois handed the keys to Clark.  "Want to drive?"

He stared at her in surprise.  "Are you feeling okay?"

"Of course.  Why?"

"Because it's your car.  You always drive."

"Well, I don't want to today.  I want you to drive, while I do some 
thinking," she explained patiently.

"Uh oh."

"What?"

"I know that look."

"What look?  I'm not giving you any look."

"Yes, you are.  It's your 'I'm cooking up a plan' look."  He grinned 
at her.  "The look that spells trouble for whomever is on the 
receiving end of your plan."

"Oh, that look."  She smiled back.  "Well, I guess I might be giving 
you *that* look.  Don't you want me to come up with a plan?"

"Lois, my love, if you can come up with a plan to derail Diana 
Stride, I'll do anything you want."

She swatted his arm.  "So, are you going to drive or not?"

He took the keys.  "Sure.  But let's go.  It's going to take at least 
an hour to get there.  I'd like to have plenty of time to look around 
and talk to people."

They rode in silence for half an hour, Clark intent on the road and 
the passing scenery, Lois pensive, planning and plotting the downfall 
of Intergang and especially that of Diana Stride.

Their route took them through rolling countryside, dotted with family 
farms, brown with the deadness of winter.  Clark noticed the 
occasional cow or horse nibbling at what little grass remained in the 
fields.  Except for the gentle hills, the bucolic landscape reminded 
him of home -- a peaceful, safe, and serene world.  Not for the first 
time he wondered what had caused his restlessness, his desire to 
leave the secure cocoon of Smallville and try to make his way in the 
madhouse that was Metropolis.  Casting a sideways glance at the 
brunette whirlwind in the seat beside him, he smiled.  Lois was the 
magnet that had unknowingly drawn him to the city and become the 
center of his universe.  The warmth that flooded his senses when he 
looked upon her face was a welcome reminder of how fortunate he was 
to have her love, and at the moment, her partnership.  If anyone 
could come up with a method to foil Diana Stride, it was Lois.

As if feeling his gaze upon her, Lois blinked her eyes to focus them 
on the darkly handsome man steering her Jeep.  She gave him a wide 
smile.  "I think I've got it," she told him.

"Got what?"  He had been so intent on marveling at her beauty that he 
had forgotten why he was driving.

At her scathing look, he caught himself.  "Oh, right.  You've got a 
plan."  It was more statement than question.  From the determination 
etched on her features, he could tell that she not only had a plan, 
but had all the details lined up and organized.  For a fleeting 
second, he almost felt sorry for Diana Stride.

"Yes.  Do you want to hear it?" she teased.

"Nah, I'll let you surprise me."  He laughed.

"Cute, Kent.  Real cute."  Her voice crept up a bit in her 
excitement.  "First of all, we say nothing yet.  If she doesn't push 
the issue, neither do we.  I'm positive that at this point she has 
nothing."

"But what about what Perry was saying this morning?  It sounded to me 
like a warning almost."  Clark's voice had a hint of tension in it. 
"And if what we suspect about what he suspects is true, then he was 
definitely trying to clue us in without letting us know exactly what 
it is that he knows."

"Don't ever say that *I* babble again," she muttered.

"Well, you do know what I meant, don't you?" he asked defensively.

She continued.  "Like I said, until Diana flat out asks us something, 
we don't tell her anything.  Perry may think she is beginning to try 
to link you and Superman, but so far she has no proof."

"And we can't ever prove that I'm not Superman."

"Sure we can.  I figured out how to prove that you and Superman are 
different people.  We just have to have both of you be in the same 
place at the same time."

"Uh, Lois, I'm Superman, not a magician."  He took a long breath. 
"And even if I were to try to move from one side of a room to 
another, I couldn't do it without people being able to tell.  So I 
don't see how that can work."  He turned a hopeful look on her face. 
"Do you know how to split me in two or clone me?"

"Clark Jerome Kent!  If you think for a minute, you should be able to 
figure out how to do it.  You're the one who told me."  She sat back 
in the bucket seat and folded her hands in her lap.  "If I have to 
tell you, you're going to feel really dumb."  She smiled triumphantly 
at him and subsided again.

"Hmm.  I told you?  Let me think."  Clark continued to tool the car 
along the winding highway as he wracked his brain for whatever it was 
she thought he knew.  Mirrors?  No, too low tech.  Mirrors would 
never work.  And then it hit him.  "The holograph!" he cried.  "You 
think my mom can use her laser stuff to make a life-size holograph of 
me?"

She slowly licked her index finger and made a mark in the air.  "One 
point for Clark.  Yes, that's exactly what I think.  She can create 
your image, or rather Superman's image, with the lasers, and you can 
make a tape for sound."

"And when are we going to do this?"

"Well, it's only if she actually goes on record and exposes you as 
Superman.  There's no sense telling people who don't think you are 
Superman that you aren't."

"Good point."  He wrinkled his forehead in thought.  So are you 
suggesting that we go ahead and get it ready?"

"Don't you think we should?  There's no telling when Diana is going 
to pounce on her prey, so it's best to be prepared."  She gave him a 
saucy look.  "You're such a boy scout, I'd think you'd remember your 
motto."

"Yeah."  He drove in silence for a few minutes, formulating his part 
of the plan.  "All right.  I'll go to see my folks tonight and we can 
get it ready.  What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Want to come?  Mom's a great cook."

Her tone was apologetic.  "Oh, Clark, I wish I could.  But tonight is 
my test for brown belt in Tae Kwon Do."

"It's okay.  I understand.  I'll miss you, but I understand.  Mom and 
I will probably get more accomplished anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked suspiciously.

"Well, if you aren't there, Mom won't want to spend hours regaling 
you with tales of my childhood."

"I *like* hearing about you when you were a kid.  You were so cute."

"I thought you thought I still was."

"A kid?  Sometimes."  The smirk she sent his way made him laugh. 
Lois looked at her watch.  "Are we almost there?"

"Now who sounds like a kid?"  His teasing smile sent a warm tingle 
all through her.  Being in love, and having acknowledged that love, 
with her partner had made life incredible.  Every little thing was 
more intense: every feeling, every joke, every look.  She hoped that 
it never changed.

"Fine.  But shouldn't we be almost to Coopersville?"

"Yes, about five more miles, I think."  He paused a second, then went 
on.  "Do you want to talk to management first, or try to look around 
and then talk to the powers that be?  We're early so we have time to 
go either way."

"Management, I think.  Let's give them the opportunity to be honest. 
I wouldn't want anyone to think we weren't objective and fair.  Plus, 
don't you have some tricks for telling when people are lying?"

"You remembered that?  I should have known."

"Known what?"

"That you have the most retentive mind of anyone  I know.  How did I 
manage to fool you for a year?"

"*You* didn't.  I managed to fool myself.  And yes, I do remember you 
saying that Miranda's pulse rate was 135.  You have to admit, that 
was a very weird thing to say."

"Not really.  It was the truth.  And if I said it now, you wouldn't 
think it was weird at all."

Lois rolled her eyes at him.  "All right.  I wouldn't, not knowing 
what I know.  But otherwise, it's weird."  Taking another look out 
the car window, she squealed.  "Clark, look at that!"

They had come to the crest of a hill and were looking down on what 
could have been a tranquil valley.  Instead of a pastoral scene, 
however, there was a bustling town, crammed with two large buildings 
emblazoned with the news that they were "Sew-Rite Clothing 
Manufacturing."  There was a large Costmart store on the edge of the 
town, a few shops lining the main thoroughfare, and street after 
street of concrete block apartment buildings.  Off to the east, 
nestled on a small hillside, were a few stately brick homes.  The 
scene looked like nothing so much as a movie set for a film on the 
old company mill towns.

Clark gave a low whistle.  "Where is Upton Sinclair when you need him?"

Lois punched his arm.  "That's us, silly."

"I know, Lois.  But still, have you ever seen anything like that 
outside of a movie?"

"No, not really.  I didn't think that there were company towns 
anymore.  Not on this scale."  She shuddered.  "I sure wouldn't want 
to live here."

"I know.  Everything has Costmart on it.  There don't seem to be any 
shops, other than that."  He pulled his glasses down and scanned the 
town.  "And, Lois, I don't see anything that could be a school.  So 
if there are children, they are either having to be bused to a 
different town ..."

"Or they aren't going to school at all."  She shook her head in 
disbelief.  "You know, Clark, this just keeps getting more and more 
convoluted."

"It's like you said the other day.  Intergang has more layers than an 
onion.  And every time you peel back another one, there are more." 
He released the brake and pressed on the accelerator.  "Let's get 
down there.  I think we're going to have some fascinating copy for 
Perry and the police."

"Yeah, but it looks like it'll have to be the state police as well. 
This town isn't in MPD's jurisdiction."  She was visibly disappointed 
that another police department would have to be involved.

"True, but we'll let Henderson deal with that.  We're just nice, 
friendly, investigative reporters who've stumbled onto what looks to 
be a fantastic exclusive."

As they descended into the town, Lois and Clark discussed the best 
approach to take at the clothing factory.

"What did you tell them when you called for the interview, Clark?

"Just that we were doing a feature story on Costmart and wanted some 
more detailed information on the manufacturing subsidiaries."

"So they may think we're doing a puff piece?"

"Yes.  It didn't seem like a good idea to say, 'Oh, by the way, we're 
trying to find out if you are a front for Intergang and are hiring 
undocumented workers on the side'."  Clark flashed a blinding grin at 
his partner.

"That's good.  One thing I know, we need to get a chance to talk to 
some of the workers," she informed him.  "I'm hoping that you'll know 
some of the workers' languages.  Then you can talk to them without 
the Sew-Rite people being able to understand what you're discussing."

"Maybe.  The foremen may be able to understand, though.  We'll have 
to play that by ear."

Lois sat forward in anticipation as the factory gates loomed in front 
of them.  She had the tingle she always got when they were about to 
nail a big story.  And after they got the proof they needed for the 
story, they could get back to Metropolis, write it, talk to 
Henderson, and solve Clark's  problem.  It was going to be a very 
productive day.

******************

"Well, that was certainly an eye-opening experience," Clark commented 
to Lois as they made their way to the visitors' parking lot having 
received a cordial good-bye from the Sew-Rite plant manager.

"What do you mean?  I didn't see anything out of the ordinary."  Her 
voice was thick with disappointment.

"That, my friend, is because *you* cannot see through walls or speak 
Malay or Vietnamese."  Clark kept his excitement in check.  "Things 
are definitely not what they seem here.  Let's see if we can find a 
restaurant."

"You're hungry?" she asked, a bit surprised.  "I thought you didn't 
need to eat."

"I don't.  But you must be hungry by now.  And I'd like the 
opportunity to talk to a nice, chatty waitress, wouldn't you?"

She nodded as she opened the car doors.  "Like Maisie?"

"Absolutely.  Think how much you learned from her."  He flashed his 
megawatt smile at her again.

"Uh huh.  As in 'With Clark here, what you see is what you get?' 
Yeah.  Okay."  She carefully backed out of the parking space.  "I 
think I noticed a sign for a diner about a block into the town as we 
drove down that hill."  Lois pulled back onto the main road and 
followed it into the center of the town.  "We're in luck.  It looks 
like the noon rush may be over."

Peering into the windows of the diner, Clark could see that it was 
nearly deserted.  A lone waitress was rolling paper napkins around 
silverware and chatting desultorily with the only customer in the 
place.  "Oh yeah, this could be very good."

"Hi there.  Let me show you to a table."  The waitress greeted them 
at the door with a friendly smile.  Showing them to a cozy booth, she 
handed them menus.  "Be back in a jif."  She leaned forward and said 
conspiratorially, "The hot roast beef sandwich is to die for."  With 
that, she disappeared into the kitchen.

"Oh, yeah.  Partner, I think we may have struck gold here."  Clark 
was jubilant.  "If she isn't Maisie's twin, she ought to be."

"I'll drink to that."  Lois looked around.  "Or I would if I had any liquid."

Just then Maisie's "sister" reappeared, water glasses in hand.  "Here 
you go.  Have you decided yet?"  She looked expectantly at Lois.

"I'll try the hot roast beef sandwich.  And a pickle, dill not sweet. 
And a glass of diet anything too, please."

"All righty.  And you, sir?"

"I'll have a burger and fries.  And a Coke, please."

"Great.  Let me go give your order to the cook."  She bustled back to 
the kitchen, only to return in a few brief minutes.  "Okay.  My name 
is Sue.  So, other than lunch, what can I help you with?"

"Excuse me?"  Lois was somewhat taken aback.  "I don't think I'm 
following  you."

"Well, I follow the two of you."  Sue's smile seemed genuine. 
"You're Lane and Kent from the Daily Planet."

"Why yes, we are.  But what does that have to do with anything?" 
Clark was perplexed.

Sue looked around the dining room.  The other customer had left; the 
place was empty except for the two reporters and her.  "If the two of 
you are up here in Coopersville, then it's got to be because you're 
working on a story.  People don't come here for a getaway, and we're 
not exactly on a main road.  So, you must be working."  She paused, 
took a deep breath, then continued, "And I'd be willing to bet it has 
something to do with those busloads of people that come up here every 
week and go to work in the factory."

"What do you know about those?" Lois asked her.

"I know that every so often, there are about two or three buses full 
of people that come into town.  The people get off at the factory 
apartment buildings, and it looks like they go through some sort of 
processing procedure.  There's always a line at a table right 
outside.  Looks like they have to fill out a bunch of forms, and then 
someone takes them into one of the buildings.  I guess that's to give 
them an apartment."

Clark encouraged her.  "That's really interesting.  Are all the people adults?"

"No, there are always some kids.  Poor little things."  Sue shook her 
head sadly.

"Why did you say that?"  Lois prodded.

"Because every morning, the people who live in the company apartments 
get lined up, get back on buses, and go to work twelve hour shifts in 
the factory.  Those children are with them."

"But what about school?"  Clark thought he knew the answer, but he 
wanted corroboration.

"They don't go.  They go to work.  There are so few children in this 
town that there is no school.  Our children go over to Danville."

"But that's, that's ... illegal!" Lois sputtered.

"So are those workers, honey."  Sue shook her head again.  "They 
don't have green cards.  That's how Sew-Rite keeps costs down.  They 
don't have to pay taxes, or Social Security, or workmen's comp, or 
anything.  As far as any government knows, those people don't exist."

Clark directed an appraising look at Sue, then made his decision. 
"Yes, we are on a story.  Would you be willing to be quoted?  And do 
you have any proof that those people are undocumented workers?"

"Sure, I'd do almost anything to help those children.  You can quote 
me.  I don't work for Costmart."  She smiled.  "Won't even shop there 
if I can avoid it."

"Okay.  Can you prove they are illegals?"  Lois pressed the issue.

"Of course.  Several of them have come in here to apply for a second 
job.  Only  I can't hire them, because they don't have green cards. 
And I have those applications on file.  Want to see a couple?"

"You bet!"  Lois was ecstatic.  This was the break in the case they'd 
been needing.

A bell dinged in the background.  "Your lunch is up.  Tell you what. 
I'll make copies of those applications while you eat."

"Thank you so much."  Clark smiled in gratitude.

As she went to get their plates, Sue thought, "That Lois Lane is one 
lucky young woman to have a guy like that."

*************

Having eaten their lunch and gotten the employment applications from 
their friendly waitress, Lois and Clark began their trip back to 
Metropolis.  Five seconds after sliding into the driver's seat, she 
turned her attention to her partner.  "Okay, Clark.  Spill it."

"What ?"  Clark had been flipping through the applications, checking 
to see that they were, in fact, proof of his suspicions.  "Spill 
what?"

"What you meant before lunch, when you said things aren't what they 
seem at Sew-Rite."

"Oh, *that*."  He grinned at her.  "Well, while you were busy gushing 
to our tour guide about the high quality clothing being produced, I 
was checking out what was happening in the rooms he didn't take us 
to."

"And?"

"And there were at least two other large rooms where they had 
children working, running sewing machines.  Some of the kids looked 
like they could be as young as six or seven."

Lois muttered a mild curse.  "Damn!  What else did you find out?"

"When I talked to some of the workers, they said that they are 
basically indentured servants.  They are mostly Vietnamese refugees, 
although there are some other nationalities as well.  There is a man, 
whose description doesn't match any suspected Intergang members,