Hearts and Diamonds by Shayne Terry Rated: PG-13 Submitted: December 2000 ____________________________ Author's Note: I'd like to thank a number of people. First, I'd like to thank some of the best beta readers in the business. Wendy Richards, Dr. Klein's Labrat, Ann McBride and Jo March gave their unflagging support, and they were quick to provide feedback, although it wasn't always convenient. I'd also like to thank Laurie for her work as an editor after the story was done. Besides her work as a beta reader, Jo March was there from the beginning, through the brainstorming sessions which eventually evolved into this story. I'd like to thank Sheila Harper for her help during a moment of bad writers block. Finally I'd like to thank the readers at Zoom's Message Boards. Their feedback influenced the stories in ways both subtle and obvious. Their support kept me motivated, and their comments were both eloquent and enthusiastic. No one could ask for a better group of beta readers. Rights to all recognizable characters in this story belong to DC Comics and Warner Brothers, and no infringement is intended by their use in this story. Other characters are mine. _____________________________ The men sitting around the table weren't the sort of people Calvin Kent would ever consider spending time with. Drug dealers and leaders of organized crime, they were wealthy and ruthless men. They had no concept of the value of human life, and if Calvin hadn't been what he was, he might have been afraid. It had taken him almost two weeks to create his current identity, one he was using specifically for this game. The stakes were high; the smallest chip on the table was worth ten thousand dollars American. The men sitting around the table were paranoid; they'd kill a man they even suspected of cheating. They'd all taken steps to guard against any tricks. They hadn't anticipated x-ray vision. It was almost absurdly easy to cheat, though Calvin was careful not to win too often. He'd seen meetings like these erupt into violence all too frequently, and he couldn't afford to be shot. Even in disguise, he had too strong a resemblance to his father, and it would be hard to fake an injury. The pile of chips in front of Calvin was slowly growing. He'd accumulated quite a sum already; he wondered if he should go ahead and quit while he was ahead. It wasn't as though he actually needed the money; he just enjoyed the thrill of the game. The risk of discovery brought with it a curious feeling of excitement, one that was hard to duplicate anywhere else. "It's your turn, Mr. Jones." Calvin looked up. Silently he threw five of the small ten thousand-dollar chips onto the pile in the middle of the table. The others followed suit. No one spoke, and that was fine with Calvin. He could hear some of the men's hearts racing. They were about to be disappointed. The fat man at the end of the table grinned. "I'll raise you." He slid five of the hundred thousand-dollar chips out into the center of the table. Luis Mendovar was a crime lord who wasn't used to losing. He seemed very confident considering his hand. Calvin checked again and froze. The man had two aces more than he should have had. No one else had any extra cards, and four aces would be hard to beat. His choices were simple. He could sit this one out, or he could meet the ante and try to cheat somehow. Three of the other five players chose not to continue. Calvin pushed most of his pile into the center of the table. It had taken much of the night to work his way up to a half million dollars without raising suspicions. He had started with a smaller stake than most of the others, and so it had taken longer to accumulate. He glanced up at the camera overhead, then down at his cards. He asked for two cards, and as the fat man handed them over, Calvin switched them with two others with a combination of sleight of hand and superhuman speed. He had made sure that the action was obscured from the camera above, and none of the players would have been quick enough to notice the exchange. As he took the cards, he glanced up at the cocktail waitress who was serving drinks to several of the men. She was staring at his hands with a startled expression. If he hadn't known better, he'd have thought she caught the switch, which was impossible. The human eye was incapable of seeing things that moved at that speed. The first player laid out his cards, then grimaced as the fat man came out with four aces. Calvin grinned. "It's been fun, boys." Slowly he laid out each card of the royal flush in his hand. The table erupted into pandemonium. The fat man's face had contorted with rage, and the others were shouting in various languages. It took several minutes for security to review the tapes and to conclude that no cheating had taken place. Calvin grinned and flipped a ten thousand dollar chip at the waitress. She caught it in mid-air and continued to stare at him when she thought he wasn't looking. While the casino staff gathered his chips, he took a closer look at the waitress. She was more attractive than he had thought at first glance. Though she was as tall and slender as most of the women he dated, her face lacked the surgical perfection to which he was accustomed. Her lips were just a little too large and lush, and her nose was a little too pert and elfin. In spite of that, she was an attractive woman, and if he'd had more time, he might have started up a conversation with her. As it was, he could hear the fat man speaking into his cell phone in rapid Portuguese. There would be people waiting for him outside the casino; it wasn't safe to be wandering the streets of Columbia with large sums of cash. The casino staff didn't even try to convince him to transfer the balance onto his cash card. Most of the people he was playing with were regulars, and they all insisted on working with cash. While electronic currency was growing more popular every day, it made it far too easy for government agencies to track the movements of individuals and groups. As always, criminals preferred cash. The casino was kind enough to give him a nice leather rucksack. Contrary to popular belief, almost three million dollars in cash would not fit into a briefcase. They filled the case in a back room and he watched carefully through the wall. They were scrupulous in counting out the money; their clientele was far too violent to cheat. He was taken to a side door was asked to sign a reciept. After this point, the money was no longer the casino's responsibility. Calvin checked the front and back doors and wasn't surprised to see a large group of armed men waiting by each. He stepped onto an elevator, which he rode to the top floor. He used an electronic passkey that he had stolen earlier to slip through the door to the roof. Surveillance cameras were sparser here, and he had been careful to make sure that there was a blind spot in the system. After checking to make sure they had not yet repaired the camera in question, he pulled a set of rappelling equipment from one of the large air vents. Checking the street below, he attached the gear quickly and rappelled down the side of the building. As he reached the bottom, he could hear the sound of the door opening above. He detached the hooks and began running down the street even as they began firing their weapons. Two bullets hit him, but he ignored them. At this distance, and in the dark of night, none of them would know whether they hit him or not, at least not without equipment they did not have. Calvin reached a side street and turned the corner quickly. He ran, conscious that he was on camera for anyone who wished to look. Finally, he turned a last corner that he had checked earlier, stumbling into an alleyway he knew wasn't under surveillance. He pulled a manhole lid open and wrinkled his nose at the stench coming from below. Just as the group of goons rounded the corner, he shot straight up into the air at superhuman speed. They'd have fits looking for him in the sewers, and they'd never look for another explanation. He grinned and turned to head for home, and almost ran into the figure behind him. "I hope you're proud of yourself." Superman was as imposing as always, and the expression on his face was stern. Calvin sighed. His father could be sanctimonious at the best of times; when he saw what he thought was a misuse of power, he was even worse. "This isn't really the place to discuss this." Calvin glanced down at the men below. None of them had looked up yet, but it was only a matter of time. He was careful to fly below the sound barrier; he didn't want any tell tale sonic boom to give him away. Superman trailed him. When they were at last over the open forest, Calvin finally stopped. "What do you want me to say?" He refused to look his father in the eyes. While he could argue with Clark Kent, it was harder to do when he was wearing the suit. "Your mother and I taught you better than this." Calvin's father's face was in shadows as he floated with his back to the moon. "How long can you keep this up before you get caught?" "You haven't been caught in almost thirty years. What makes you think I'll do any worse?" He stared at his father defiantly. "I'm not the one dodging street cameras every day in the middle of Metropolis. There's less surveillance out here; it's easier to be who I want to be." "You take a lot of risks." His father was silent for several moments. "If any of these people find out who you are...who I am...It's not either of us who will suffer. It's your mother. Not everyone is as hard to kill as we are." Calvin almost snarled. His father could be trusted to bring that up every single argument. The same old pain and guilt rose within him. He should have made peace with it a long time ago, but he hadn't. "I've kept innocents out of my business for years. I learned my lesson a long time ago; why do you and mother insist on bringing it up over and over again?" Calvin clenched a fist. "You never stop pushing me." "We were trying to teach you responsibility." Calvin's father shook his head. "We'd have pushed you whether you had the sort of powers I have or not. Everybody has something to contribute." "I won't deny that." Calvin bridled. "Several of my identities are considered great philanthropists. I donate great deals of money to worthy causes." "You've got more to contribute than a few dollars." "What do you want me to do? Slip into some blue spandex and play hero? That's not me; it never was. No matter how hard you try, you'll never fit me into that mold." "Cal-" "Call me Calvin!" Calvin scowled.. "My name is just another example of what you and mother had planned for me even before I was born. Not only do I share your initials...you even named me after yourself! Anyone who asked you or mother would think you were naming me after your good friend Superman." Calvin shook his head in disgust. "Kal...People have been naming their children that for the last ten years. It's been one of the top ten baby names for the last five." His father had the grace to look embarrassed. "I had no part in that. I've never been comfortable with the baggage that comes with what I do." "Neither have I! I've lived my whole life in the shadow of Superman. Why can't you and mother accept that I need to live on my own terms?" "The world needs you. I'm not going to be around forever." Calvin snickered. "Have you looked in the mirror lately? You don't look a day over forty. Why do you think mother was so anxious to be included in the new anti-aging drug study?" Calvin tried to ignore the flash of pain he saw in his father's eyes. Although an enemy had shortened Clark Kent's lifespan a quarter century earlier, it was becoming apparent that he would outlive Calvin's mother by decades. He didn't want to talk about it any more than Calvin did. Even with the best aging drugs available, it was likely that Clark Kent would outlive his wife. Calvin's situation was even worse; without the damage his father had suffered, Calvin could easily live into his third century. Calvin knew that he would never spend his lifetime with anyone. The best he'd manage would be to spend her lifetime together and then go on alone. It was easier just having casual relationships. Sometimes he thought the grief he saw hidden in his father's eyes was the most painful thing of all. "The issue isn't how long I'll live. I could be killed tomorrow by someone with an undiscovered piece of Kryptonite. The New Kryptonians could return. Nobody lives forever, and the world doesn't even promise us today." Calvin sighed and said, "We argue about this every time we meet. Let's agree to take it up again later. Was there something else you wanted?" His father relaxed, leaving the image of Superman behind for a moment to become a more human Clark Kent. "Your mother wanted me to invite you to Thanksgiving dinner. You haven't returned any of her net mails." Calvin said, "I come home every year. I've been busy, but I wouldn't miss that." He hesitated. "I don't think grandpa would have wanted me to miss it." Calvin had always loved Thanksgiving. It hadn't been the same since his grandparents had passed away, but he refused to let his parents be alone on that one day of the year. There were too many happy memories there. In any case, it would be good to see Aunt Lucy and his cousins again. It felt like everyone had drifted apart since... His father sighed. "I don't think he'd want you to either." "I'll bring some of those tropical fruits that Aunt Lucy likes. They've gotten harder to find in recent years, but I know a spot where they grow wild." His father chuckled. "At least they won't question your being able to afford it." Calvin grinned. "It's one of the perks of being a best selling writer." Writing was the one area in which Calvin had exceeded his father. Clark Kent had spent the last twenty-five years splitting his time between journalism, being Superman, and having a family. Even with the advantages of needing less sleep, and having superspeed, he'd never been able to complete his "Great American Novel." "I read your last book. It was great. If I didn't know better, I'd think you had spent time as a South American drug lord." The look on his father's face was ironic, but Calvin couldn't help but feel a rush of pleasure at his father's approval. "I'd take it off my taxes as a business expense, but I was someone else at the time." His father straightened up and became Superman. "We can discuss this later. Your mother and I will look forward to seeing you for Thanksgiving." Calvin nodded, and his father sped off. Careful to keep below the clouds so the spy satellites wouldn't spot him, Calvin headed home. It should have been easier. Anyone who knew them would have thought that Clark Kent and Lois Lane would be perfect parents. Clark's family life as a child had been idyllic. Lois hadn't come from a perfect household, but the years had polished away the rough edges she'd had when she was young. They should have been the perfect parents, and Calvin should have been a perfect child. His birth had been a difficult one; whatever differences existed between him and a human baby had been hard on his mother's body. Lois and Clark had decided against having another child, and so they had lavished all their love and affection on Calvin. It should have been a perfect childhood, but it hadn't been. Calvin had inherited his mother's rebellious streak, and his father's stubbornness. He'd refused to accept things on faith; he'd questioned everything and demanded to know more. It had only gotten worse when he'd become a teenager. When it became apparent that Calvin was going to inherit his father's abilities, his parents had begun to push him even harder. Calvin could understand their reasoning; someone with the power of Superman and the ethics of Lord Nor would be a real danger to the planet. He'd understood their reasoning even then, but something within him wouldn't allow him to go along. He'd acted out. He probably would have turned to alcohol and drugs just to spite them but his physiology wouldn't allow it. No matter how much he drank, he couldn't feel any effect. He'd turned to taking bigger and bigger risks; bungee jumping, risky driving, sneaking into adult gambling establishments with his friends. Discovering girls had been a pleasant revelation. He'd inherited his father's good looks, and he'd quickly learned to take advantage of them. He'd never felt desire with the intensity that his friends did, but he had been more than able to perform. It had been fun. Being caught by his mother with Mary Sue Patterson hadn't been fun; it still embarrassed him after ten years. He'd been more circumspect after that, and it had been a good thing. Still, his life had been good until he'd turned sixteen. He'd lived a life free of guilt and regret; he hadn't had to look himself in the mirror every morning and see something he didn't want to see. Life had been easier until the accident. Calvin silently landed in the forest behind his house. He sighed. His father insisted on bringing up the accident every time they got into an argument. It always left him in a grim and morose mood for hours afterward. He walked quietly towards his house. Like most new houses these days, it was built well out of sight of any prying eyes. Anyone who could telecommute to work did so; latest estimates were that almost forty percent of the workforce worked from their homes. People were growing dissatisfied with the cities; the ubiquitous street cameras made personal privacy something people were willing to pay for. Some people never left their homes at all. Calvin knew he was being scanned as he approached his back door. His security system was top of the line; he'd paid cash to have the system put into place. He kept large sums of money on the premises, and he wouldn't have any place to turn if it was stolen. Worse, there was information there on several of his identities that couldn't be discovered online. "Let me in." The door clicked and he opened it. The lights were already on in anticipation of his presence. He dropped the knapsack with a sigh. "Dim the windows." The windows turned opaque. He crouched and grabbed at a crack in the floor. He grunted slightly as he lifted the slab out of place and set it to the side; while it weighed over a ton, that wasn't a real consideration. It was bulky, and he had to be careful not to leave tell tale scratches on the floor as he set it to one side. It was low tech, but not something that thieves would think to look for. He kept a couple of safes for appearance's sake, but his real secrets were hidden. He dropped the bag into the hole he'd left, then quickly replaced the slab. There would be plenty of time to drop some of the money onto the doorsteps of several churches in Mexico; his father probably would have been happy to know that Calvin was taking a more personal approach to charity. He stepped inside. He knew without looking that the lights were fading in the room he had just left. "Give me the news" The eastern wall of his living room lit up into dozens of images; news stories from across the globe. The system knew what sort of stories he was looking for, and catered to his tastes. Financial information flashed by the screen, as did odd stories. Nothing all that new or interesting. They'd finally gotten the first pair of new mammoths to breed in the Chicago zoo. They'd managed to restore several extinct species already, but this was the first pair to breed. It seemed ironic; bringing a hairy species of elephant into a world that was growing hotter by the day. They'd brought the dodo back too, as well as other species that had been too stupid to live. People didn't show any sense sometimes. Simply because you had the ability to do something, didn't mean that you should. Calvin pulled his leather jacket off, scowling at the bullet holes. It had been one of his favorite jackets; he'd bought it in college and it was only now getting that lived in look. The weather was growing ever more violent. That hadn't been news for years. Even with hybrid cars and the newer fuel cell vehicles, the damage done during the twentieth century was still taking its toll. The world climate had grown several degrees hotter over Calvin's lifetime. There was always news of floods, hurricanes and other assorted disasters. The latest reports suggested that the climate would grow worse before it became better. He hesitated for a moment, then held the jacket out in front of him. A single blast of heat vision reduced it to ashes. He couldn't afford to leave any sign of what he was lying around, even if it WAS one of his favorite items of clothing. Calvin's head snapped up, and he scowled. They were doing another retrospective on the victims of the invasion by New Krypton. It had been 26 years since the occupation of Smallville, and they were still airing the story. The newscasters were always bringing back that sort of retrospective on a slow news day. The occupation of Smallville, and later Metropolis, had been harsher than anyone had been willing to admit in the beginning. Calvin wished they'd let the story die; no one had heard from the New Kryptonians in his lifetime. It always put Calvin's father in a terrible mood; being reminded of what his native people had done under Lord Nor always pained him greatly. Whatever damage had been done had healed as much as it was likely to by this point. There was no point in looking back on past failures other than to vow not to make the same mistakes again. Even the manned Mars mission wasn't making much news. The crew was halfway along on a mission that was going to take months. Most of the work on Mars had already been done by automated systems; the astronauts would arrive to find a base already set up for them. The media had quickly gotten tired of the mind numbing dullness of the trip. Calvin couldn't imagine how much worse it was for the pilots themselves. He found an entire planet confining enough; being trapped in a tiny capsule for months was incomprehensible. He gestured curtly and the screens went blank. "That's enough. Do I have any messages?" The computer ran through his messages so quickly that it would have sounded like a squeal to a normal human ear; it was one of the modifications he'd made on his systems to take advantage of his special abilities. It wasn't like he used them often. The flight and speed were nice, but Calvin rarely had a chance to use most of his other abilities. He grew impatient at times with the limitations of his systems; no matter how much money he spent, and no matter how much tweaking he did, the fact remained that the systems had been designed for human use. Of course, he was more successful with some systems than with others. He frowned. His agent was demanding that he make another personal appearance. He'd managed to keep his picture from being posted with every book he wrote, but his contract required that he meet with his publisher at least once a year. He could have published his books himself; over half his revenue was from e-books. His publishers had a battery of lawyers available to defend his copyrights, and they still published the occasional paperback. He sighed. "Go through my black book. Find out who's free tomorrow evening. Not all of them keep everything on a public day planner...I'll make the calls myself." It took three calls before he found a woman who was available. He'd neglected to keep in touch with many of them; it had been hard to maintain his interest in recent years. Superficial relationships were beginning to pale for him. It had been pleasant once to lose himself in an endless array of perfect bodies; with his father's looks and his own reputation, he never had to be alone. He'd never had to be physically alone, anyway. Emotionally, it was a different story. He'd spent his entire life as an outsider looking in. No matter how hard he'd tried,he'd known since he was a child that he was different. It had been easy to make friends, but he'd never felt free to be open with any of them. There was no one outside his family with whom he could share his secret; it wasn't entirely his secret to share. Calvin sighed as he allowed himself to float down onto his couch. It wasn't just relationships that were starting to pall for him; everything was. The world was getting smaller every day, and he was beginning to feel claustrophobic. He'd spent a lot of his time out of the country; it was taking third world countries longer to fill their streets with cameras. It was coming, though. It was already getting harder to maintain the computer documentation for his various identities; he'd had to insert a virus into the system to keep his fingerprints from flagging multiple identities. It wasn't as much of a problem in criminal havens like Columbia; they weren't linked into the world net as thoroughly. Calvin closed his eyes for a moment. For some reason his mind kept coming back to the waitress, the one he'd thought had seen him cheat. He'd reacted to her in a visceral way, one he wasn't used to. He wondered what it had been about her; she certainly wasn't the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Perhaps it was the flash of pain he'd seen in her eyes, a pain that was oddly familiar to him. He'd always had an affinity for damaged souls. He sighed. It wasn't worth worrying about. It would be months before that area would be safe for him to return. She probably would have left by that point. He wouldn't ever see her again, so there wasn't any point in thinking about her. He slipped quietly into a deep sleep, and his dreams were strangely erotic. Calvin loved cars. It wasn't a question of speed or power; Calvin was thousands of times stronger and faster than the best automobile on the road. It certainly wasn't the idea of the car as a status symbol, though Calvin occasionally used that as part of various disguises. Calvin simply loved the smooth lines of sleek sports cars. He enjoyed pushing the vehicles to their utmost limits and seeing what they could do. Playing with the artificial limits of the machine was more enjoyable than the realization that he couldn't really explore his own limitations. He couldn't ever move at full speed without fearing detection. The world was too full of cameras and satellites for him to ever feel free. It was also a form of catharsis. He'd made a mistake ten years before; one he'd pay for in regret for the rest of his life. Finding the limits of the machine was a way of ensuring that it never happened again. Of course, he was always cautious when he had passengers. There wasn't any reason to tempt destiny more than once. ****************** He pulled into the long circular driveway. His publisher was a wealthy man; he owned a mansion. Calvin was wealthy in his own right, but he preferred a smaller, cozier house. He lived alone and didn't really need very much room. Cars filled the driveway, and by this point, it would be a long walk to reach the entrance. The map being projected on the windshield blinked out. Calvin glanced over at his date. Jilly Winters wasn't his ideal woman by a long shot. Her face and body had the surgical perfection demanded by her social class, but she didn't have much to offer in the way of personality. She was already angry about being late, and Calvin was wearily certain that she'd keep complaining until they reached the safety of the crowd. "You could have driven a little faster! They don't keep roadside radar units around here! Now we're going to have to walk through the grass." "These roads curve a lot, and the trees and hills don't make for good visibility." Calvin spoke mildly. "Besides, it's better to be fashionably late than to be too early." If he'd had his choice, he wouldn't have come at all. These black tie affairs were an anachronism. The format probably hadn't changed much since Jonathan Kent had been Calvin's age. The same people spouted the same inanities at each other whiletrying to look as though they knew what they were talking about. Calvin would have enjoyed the event more had he been in one of his other identities. At least then there would be the excitement of possibly being found out as an impostor. As it was, the only thrill would be when they presented their invitations at the door. There was always the possibility that the virus he'd placed in the national identification system would fail. He couldn't change his fingerprints or retinal patterns. The virus was the only thing keeping his identities separate. He wasn't sure what he'd do if the system identified him as being the notorious gun runner Johnny Ramirez, or as the Las Vegas gambler Kent Sharp. His stomach clenched slightly as he placed his hand on the palm scanner along with the invitation. He was relieved when it cleared him and his date to enter. They were quickly led to the rear door of the house. Like any good Texan, Calvin's publisher preferred to have his parties out in the open. The autumn air was perfect this time of year by night, and there weren't any worries about being out in the sun. The oddity of having formal wear at an outside event was ignored; if one was wealthy enough, almost anything could be forgiven. The publisher's back yard was more than two acres in size. It was carefully landscaped to provide plentiful shade from the trees above. Colorful paper lanterns hung from the trees, and small waterfalls bubbled from stones, creating occasional small pools beside the blue veined marble paths. It was an ostentatious sign of wealth, of course. As the global climate grew hotter, it was becoming increasingly expensive to set up large-scale water works. All the fountains and pools were artificial; the oak trees and other water dependent species of plants were another sign of the man's wealth. Calvin's date pulled on his sleeve, and he allowed himself to follow. She knew as many of the people as he did; society parties in northern Texas tended to be somewhat incestuous. Everyone knew everyone else. "Can you believe that the New Yorkers are trying to get the publishing industry back? They still haven't done anything about the unions, and that was half their problem." Calvin's publisher was an old war horse. He liked to play up his image as an old fashioned Texan: large mustache, cowboy dress and all. However, at heart he was a shrewdly modern businessman, able to keep up with the rapid advances in technology and copyright law. He looked up and grinned. "Here's one of my best new authors now. Let me introduce you to Calvin Kent." He clapped Calvin on the shoulder. "Calvin, these men are from Hollywood. They may be interested in making your book into a movie." Calvin wasn't impressed. These days, anyone with a reasonably good computer could make low budget features, and virtual reality simulations were stealing the high budget market. The day of the big budget movie in Hollywood was over. "What about the actors' strike? It doesn't sound like anyone will be making any movies for a while." One of the men smiled unpleasantly. "The whole flap is over the use of virtual actors. We've been able to generate entire human performances for five years now. It's finally getting cheap enough that we may not need ANY actors at all." "Eventually you won't even need producers." Calvin frowned. "I thought the disagreement was over the unauthorized use of an actor's image in a movie. You've been filming movies using the images of dead actors without compensation. I'm sure they are wondering how long it'll be until you replace living actors altogether." "I, for one look forward to the day. Actors aren't exactly the most stable people, and the salaries they've been asking for have been out of sync with the industry. We don't need them like we once did." Calvin shook his head. "I don't know if you'll ever be able to eliminate the human portion of a performance entirely. It seems to me that all you've done is transfer the burden to the programmers. As an author, I'm particularly sensitive to copyright issues." He paused. "I'll look at your proposal, but I'm a bit skeptical." "We'll send it for you to look over." Calvin nodded. "I think my date is looking a little thirsty." He looked at the woman beside him. "Why don't you talk to these gentlemen while I get you a drink?" Jilly was easier to deal with drunk. He felt guilty at the thought, but there wasn't any question that it was true. He began to slowly weave his way among the people in the crowd as he headed for the bar. In his mind he was already calculating how quickly he could leave without offending his host. He'd managed to arrive almost an hour late, but he'd probably be required to stay at least two more. He sighed. He really hated these events. A bar had been set up in the middle of a stand of trees. It was a freestanding, permanent structure, one that obviously got a great deal of use in spite of the meticulous care that was taken to keep it looking new and unused. Calvin froze as the bartender turned to face him. She was impossibly familiar. "What'll you have?" Her voice was husky and deep, and he felt an unfamiliar tingling working its way up his spine. She looked up at him and paled. He hadn't realized that she had such beautiful blue eyes. He leaned forward and hissed, "Who sent you here?" It was unlikely that a cocktail waitress in Columbia would be working as a bartender in North Texas the next day. The most likely explanation was that she was following him. It was frightening. She could work for anyone - the CIA, Interpol, and even the criminals he'd cheated over the years. There wasn't any indication that they knew what he was, so the family secret might be safe. If he had to, he could always fake his own death. It would hurt to give up everything he had worked for all these years, but it would hurt less than having his actions harm others. He'd promised a long time ago that he wouldn't allow it to happen ever again. The sounds of the party were fading around them. At first, Calvin assumed that it was merely his own dismay, but he soon realized that it was something else. He could see flashes of light coming from the trees, and he grimaced, turning back to the girl. Before he could say anything, three men entered the clearing and the world lit up around them both. His unconsciousness lasted only a few seconds; there were advantages to having a Kryptonian physiology. The people around him would be frozen for minutes or even hours. It was illegal for anyone but the police to carry Gryph-guns, but there was a thriving black market for them. Kyle Griffin, the Prankster had been a fool. He'd developed a device that would freeze individuals in place, possibly even on a massive scale, and the only use he'd been able to see for it was petty extortion. The United States government had taken his plans. He'd never bothered to patent his work, so he received nothing when the government began mass producing the devices and sending them to every police force in the country. By the time he'd gotten out of prison the first time, he'd been a bitter man. His share of the profits could have easily been over ten billion dollars. It had been the perfect device for police forces. With the Gryph-gun, police didn't have to resort to brutality. They could simply freeze a suspect, restrain him, and take him to jail without his ever being aware of it. Large, unruly crowds could be silenced in an instant, the troublemakers pulled from the crowd before anyone could even react. The Los Angeles Food Riots of 2011 were stopped quickly and cleanly using larger devices. People called the Gryph-guns the first step towards Utopia. They ignored the way that the Chinese, the Libyans and the Iraqis used them. The technology made it harder to overthrow corrupt governments...and when the technology came onto the black market, it left ordinary citizens helpless. He could see party goers all around him frozen into place as the black clad men wove between them, removing necklaces and pieces of personal jewelry. They left men's wallets alone, of course. Electronic money was almost impossible to steal. Anyone skilled enough to break into the World Bank computer systems wouldn't need the actual cards. He could hear men inside the house removing valuable artwork. While he'd spent far too much of his time suppressing his sense of hearing to be sure, he thought that at least twenty men must be involved. It was possible that they'd have up to an hour before the people woke up; they'd want to be long gone by the time the guests awoke though. There weren't any cameras on the roads outside the estates; the wealthy paid highly for the privilege of privacy. However, the police would respond almost immediately to any calls for help. The automated security systems would have normally reported any intrusions, but they had been deactivated for the party. There wasn't anything he could do, at least not until the black clad men left. It was likely that they would have already deactivated the house cameras, but he wouldn't know how long he had to act before the partygoers reawakened. The woman would notice him missing even if no one else did, and he was afraid that she would start asking too many questions. The sort of glasses or contact lenses that blocked Gryph-gun emissions were illegal for anyone other than law enforcement officers and a few bodyguards with special dispensation. He looked at her for a long moment. She was prettier than he had remembered, even if she was an enemy. He hadn't paid much attention to her before; it had seemed pointless since he wouldn't be able to return to the area for quite some time. Her head turned slightly, and Calvin stiffened. She should have been both motionless and unconscious like everyone else. The fact that she wasn't suggested that she was either part of the plot along with the black clad men...or that she wore special contact lenses as part of her work in law enforcement. He remained motionless. It was worse than he would have expected. He was going to have to tell his parents and they wouldn't be pleased. His father had been claiming for years that Calvin was going to get caught; Calvin dreaded proving him right. On the other hand, if there was real danger for his mother, Calvin couldn't see not telling them. His life was going to have to change dramatically, and Calvin felt a moment of panic. He calmed himself. The woman was remaining almost as still as everyone else, though he could now see small signs of movement that weren't present in anyone else. Luckily, her head was slightly turned, or she'd have been looking at him. If she'd been part of the plot, she'd probably have started moving along with the criminals. The footsteps retreated, and Calvin could hear the sounds of vehicles moving away. He remained still for several moments, wondering if the woman would make the first move. If she had any suspicions about what he was, he was unwilling to confirm them. He cursed for a moment. If she hadn't been there, he'd have done something to set the alarm off early. He'd have found a way to make it look like an accident. As it was, the criminals were going to get away scot-free, unless they were caught fencing the goods. He could hear the sounds of people beginning to revive in the distance. The woman turned her head and looked directly at him. He gasped, and she took advantage of his moment of indecision to dash away from the bar. She moved quickly, and he began following her at a faster than human pace just as the people around them began to revive. It was instantly harder to follow. Calvin had to weave around dismayed partygoers who were only now realizing that they had been robbed, but she had the same problem. He managed to keep her in sight, but he had to struggle through small clumps of suddenly hysterical people. Finally he reached the edge of the clearing and plunged into the trees. As soon as he was out of sight of anyone, he felt free to speed up, though not outside the human range just in case the criminals hadn't gotten all the cameras. She dodged between large stretches of pine and sprinted away. Calvin knew she'd come up against the fence soon, and then he'd have her. The fence loomed up ahead and the girl was nowhere to be seen. He looked around quickly; she had to be around somewhere. His x-ray vision pierced the undergrowth., but no matter which way he looked, one thing was clear. The woman had vanished, which was impossible. She'd only been fifty yards ahead of him; it wasn't possible that she could have vanished. Yet, with all his abilities, he couldn't sense her anywhere. He could easily make out her footprints; they stopped near the fence and didn't reappear anywhere that he could see. He listened carefully for her heartbeat; perhaps she'd found a place to hide where he hadn't thought to look. He couldn't hear anything but the babble of confused voices back at the party and the sound of distant sirens. He made his way back to the party slowly, opening his senses as widely as he could. There wasn't any sign of the girl, and he couldn't understand it. Still, once he was back at the party, he'd find a way to discover her identity. He wouldn't be able to rest until he knew what her agenda was. The police were everywhere, having gathered the partygoers into small groups for questioning. An officer saw Calvin walking out of the woods, and he approached Calvin cautiously, his hand on his Gryph-gun. "May I see your identification please?" Calvin quietly pulled his smartcard. It served both as a unit of electronic currency, identification, and driver's registration. As always, his gut tightened slightly as the officer ran a small scanner over the card. He wasn't able to change his retinal patterns or fingerprints, and under normal circumstances, all of his personal information should appear, including his other identities. The program he had hacked into the system kept his identities from overlapping each other. Should it ever fail, he'd be in serious trouble. The officers wore sunglasses even at night, mirror lenses that kept suspects from seeing their eyes. The lenses served multiple purposes. They were protective against Gryph-gun emissions, and they were data readouts as well, allowing instant access to a suspect's entire past history in an instant. Net access was available to everyone through glasses as long as a larger unit was concealed within a mile. Most people had larger units in their homes and in their cars. It was considered rude to wear glasses while indoors; personal interactions were rare enough without someone being distracted by what they were seeing on the Internet or elsewhere. The glasses were ubiquitous during the daytime; no one went outside without UV protecting sunshades any more. But by night, or indoors, the mirrored lenses sported by the police were unnerving. Of course, only the glasses worn by the police and military protected against Gryph-gun emissions. The penalties for possession of contraband contact lenses or spectacles were very high. "You were seen fleeing the scene by a number of witnesses. What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Kent?" Thinking quickly, Calvin replied, "I thought I saw one of the thieves at the edge of the forest. I hoped I'd be able to catch up with her before she saw me." "None of the others seems to have a good description of the individuals involved." "I caught a glimpse of them before I was hit. I saw three men, all dressed in black jumpsuits, wearing ski masks. All of them were approximately six feet tall, and they carried large bags." "That's a better description than most of the others were able to provide." The policeman seemed skeptical. "I'm an author. I've trained myself to be observant." The officer asked several more questions, and Calvin answered them absently. The flashing lights of the police vehicles were disturbing him. They reminded him far too strongly of an evening he'd rather forget. There had been a policeman there also, the mirrored lenses of his spectacles making his eyes impossible to read. The flashing of ambulance lights and police lights had mixed into a blur. It was supposed to be harmless fun. Calvin had always loved cars; and while he hadn't bonded closely with anyone, he'd made many casual friends. Some of them shared his interests in living dangerously; they'd admired him for his willingness to defy authority and seemingly defy death. It hadn't really occurred to him how much more vulnerable they were. Calvin knew on an academic level that the people around him might get hurt, but he always assumed it was something that happened to someone else's friends. At the age of sixteen, death wasn't a concept he was well acquainted with; no one in his family had died, and neither had anyone he knew personally. Summer days seemed to last forever, and it seemed as though everyone would always be immortal and young. Calvin had done a number of risky things with his friends already. They'd bungee jumped and white-water river rafted. They'd skydived and parasailed. They'd traveled into dangerous parts of town, places where the ubiquitous monitors on every street corner were broken or poorly maintained. Calvin later realized that the others were running from voids in their lives. Their parents were too busy for them, substituting money for affection. They'd all been seeking thrill after thrill so that they could feel something amid the numbness in their lives. His situation had been a little different from the others. He'd never lacked for love from either his parents or from any of his grandparents. In spite of that, he too had a void waiting to be filled. He'd been a disappointment to his parents all his life. They'd struggled to teach him the values of altruism. The more projects and events they attempted to involve him in, the harder he'd rebelled. Something deep inside wouldn't allow him to follow others blindly. He'd always been questioning, trying to understand. His parents had been busy, but they'd always set time aside for him. If his father sometimes had to dash away from his little league games, at least he attended; more than half his friends' parents didn't attend at all. If his mother had been busy with her work, first as a reporter and later as an editor, she'd always found ways to spend special moments with him. He'd looked at the loving relationship his parents had, and he'd despaired. He'd enjoyed being with girls since he was fifteen, but none of them had ever had any real effect on him emotionally. He could feel loyalty and compassion. He could even enjoy spending time around other people. What he could not do was give free rein to his emotions. He'd known he was different from everyone else a long time before his parents had told him exactly why. It was as though someone had encased his heart in ice as hard as a diamond. He'd known even then that if he could not love, he was doomed to be unhappy for all the days of his life. It was the one thing he had in common with his friends. They all struggled with feelings of loneliness. It was only when they risked their lives that they felt truly alive, and even then it was only a temporary high. In the end, it was the death of them. It was supposed to be fun; Calvin and his best friend Skyler would race down the back roads of Delaware to see who had the better car and who was the better driver. Their friends would ride along. They'd raced down the back roads. Calvin had superhuman reflexes on his side, and his friend had raw driving talent. They'd taken dangerous curves and passed each other several times. The two girls and one boy in the car with Calvin had laughed and joked. Occasionally they would gesture at the four boys in the other car as they passed near each other. Calvin had seen it coming, and there hadn't been anything he could do. It had been hard to hear anything outside the car; with his friends' laughter and loud music playing, as well as the roar of the engine, the rest of the world had faded away. The only warning he'd had was a flash of reflected moonlight in the distance. It would have been invisible to the ordinary human eye. Calvin had quickly used his x-ray vision to look through the hill ahead of them. Slamming on the brakes at one hundred miles an hour should have flipped the car, but Calvin had the advantage of superhuman reflexes. Skyler hadn't stood a chance. The sound of impact would haunt Calvin's dreams for years to come. In a single moment, Calvin lost both his best friend and his innocence. The truck that came over the hill had been running without any lights; it had been fitted with a night sighting system, which projected images from a low light camera onto the windshield. It was also too wide for the narrow county roads. They later discovered that the trucker had been moving along the back roads to avoid the automated radar devices on the highway. He'd been speeding with his lights off to avoid alerting the residents of the houses nearby; they'd been known to call the police when they saw someone speeding down the roads near their houses. Calvin had burst out of his vehicle, but it was far too late. Not much had remained of Skyler, and the three other boys in the car hadn't been much better. One of the girls in the car behind them had called an ambulance. Calvin tore the door off the truck cab. He'd raised his fist to the ashen faced man inside, and in spite of everything his parents had raised him to believe, he'd nearly hit the man as hard as he could. In all his life he'd never been closer to murder. It was an ugly impulse, revealing a dark piece of his soul he'd never seen before. Luckily the neighbors had already called the police when they saw Calvin and Skyler's headlights. The sounds of sirens had brought him back to his senses, and he'd let the man go. What had followed had been a blur. He still had bits and pieces; the mirrored lenses of the officers, the flashing of lights, bodies being callously zipped into body bags. They'd been taken to the police station, where they'd been forced to give their statements repeatedly. Calvin had been numb until his father had arrived. Then he'd wanted to die. He'd never expected to see such anger and such disappointment on his father's face. The police had released him into his father's custody. Calvin had expected his father to begin lecturing him the moment they'd left the station, but he hadn't. He'd been completely silent as they drove to the hospital. He was silent, but his expression was more painful than anything Calvin could have ever imagined. It was even worse when they received the news that two of the others in Skyler's car had died. The last had lost his leg. His father hadn't said a word to him that night, and Calvin felt as if something in his soul had died. The lecture had come the next day, but by that point Calvin had already made his own decision. He'd never hurt another innocent. He hadn't been charged with anything worse than reckless driving, but he'd punished himself every day. Regret was a bitter emotion, as was rage and the knowledge of what he might have done to the truck driver. He'd hardened his heart even further. Over the following years he'd slowly withdrawn from his former friends and acquaintances. He'd graduated from Harvard in only three years, and he'd been careful to keep his relationships superficial. Calvin shook himself. He preferred to think about that time in his life as little as possible, but the sight of policemen always brought that out in him. "Excuse me, officer? What was the question?" "One of the bartenders is missing. A woman named Sarah Knight. You wouldn't happen to know anything about her disappearance, would you?" "I'm sure she just panicked and ran." The officer paused for several long moments, probably sifting through information on the inside of his glasses. "Our information says that she works for you, at least part time." Calvin's head snapped up. "What are you talking about?" "You provide the funding for the Jonathan Kent Memorial Center, don't you?" "Of course I do. Since the middle class has been fleeing the city, the poor need a little more..." "She's the executive director there. Are you telling me that you don't know this woman?" Calvin looked away. "I just write the checks. I don't get personally involved with any of the causes I invest in. I leave that to other people." It was clear that the officer didn't believe him, but the man let him go with a warning. "We're keeping an eye on you, Kent." Calvin nodded. He could see that his date was acting distraught; it was one of her less appealing characteristics. He quickly learned that she'd found a ride with one of the Hollywood men. Calvin was pleased because it meant that he could immediately begin to search for the woman who was following him. He had a name, and it wouldn't be long before he had it all. It was obvious that the party was over. Calvin made his excuses, and headed for his car as soon as he made sure his date was taken care of. She seemed infatuated with the Hollywood man, and Calvin suspected she'd always had dreams of being an actress. Hollywood was a fading dream as far as Calvin was concerned, but if she wanted to make a go at it, he couldn't see anything wrong with it. Her family might have different ideas, but Calvin fully believed that families didn't have any right to impose their dreams and desires on the young. It was up to each young person to seek out his own destiny, to find his own path. All a family could really do was to make the options clear, and help create a set of values that might serve as a road map for the future. The path his parents wanted him to take was one of great personal sacrifice. Although his father had discovered that most of his time as Superman was spent waiting around for the police, there were still times he'd had to sacrifice his family life in favor of public service. Even in these days of street cameras and police zeal, there were still times he had to leave Calvin's mother in favor of the greater good. It was a lifetime commitment. Clark Kent no longer had a choice; he'd be Superman until he either died or was too weak to continue. Calvin on the other hand had been careful to avoid the trap. His life was free as long as he could avoid becoming entangled. It wasn't that he didn't want to help; a lifetime with his father had shown what a burden it could be. In any case, he suspected he'd look horrible in spandex. The police were still questioning party goers, but Calvin had been temporarily released from questioning. The police were perfectly confident that they could find him if they needed to; it was one of the tenets of the electronic age. Calvin slipped into his car and left as quickly as he could. He drove carefully until he was several minutes away from his publisher's mansion. Carefully checking to see that no police drones were following him, he put on a burst of speed. It would have been suicidally foolish for anyone else to speed along these back roads; with trees on all sides and with the road being winding with hills and dips, most people would have been forced to use caution. Calvin drove as quickly as he was able. With his x-ray vision on full, he was able to see any obstructions on the road long before he would reach them. When he headed for a dip, he was able to lift his car slightly using his ability to fly so that it wouldn't wreck the suspension. Eventually he reached a point where he could pull over to the side of the road, which he did. He kept a set of datalink glasses in his car, as well as a set of special wristbands. They interfaced with a computer in his car, which was globally connected to the internet. He slipped them on, as well as a set of wristbands. The bands interpreted the movements of the muscles in his wrists and forearms, removing the need for keyboards or other forms of data entry devices. Most people used voice recognition devices, but voice recognition had never been designed for high rates of speed. Hardcore programmers wanted to be able to enter information faster than voice recognition would allow, yet they didn't want to be burdened with old fashioned keyboards. He gestured, and a ghostly image of a virtual keyboard appeared in the view of the glasses. Calvin began to type, slowlyat first and then with ever-increasing speed. He'd been more successful at modifying the wristbands for his own use than he had most other devices. His fingers became a blur in midair. Small screens seemed to appear, floating in midair. Calvin read and assimilated the information at superhuman speed. Finally, he leaned back with a sigh of satisfaction. He hadn't managed to discover her real identity; there wasn't any sign of the sort of program he had been using to separate his multiple identities, but that reinforced the idea that she worked for the government. The government could have easily erased her entire past and replaced it with something else. It had a strong advantage over his own method of creating identities in that there was nothing more to find online; investigators would have to search for physical records that contradicted the official online story, and that would take time. The cover story she had chosen was interesting. Sarah Knight, born September 1997 to James and Rebecca Knight in Dallas, Texas. Her mother apparently died in childbirth, and her father had died sometime before. James Knight's sister, Agnes, took custody and raised her in Dallas, Texas. By the age of thirteen Sarah Knight was a runaway; she was lost to the system until three years later when she was adopted by a social worker and his wife. Sarah managed to catch up on her schoolwork and graduated in the top ten percent of her high school class. She received an undergraduate degree in social work at Texas A&M by the age of 21. She returned to Dallas, where she had trouble finding work due to cuts in the government budget. When the state of Texas legalized gambling, she took work as a casino dealer. She spent her spare time working in a number of charities. She supposedly began working at the Jonathan Kent Memorial Center two years before. That was the easiest to check. Calvin restarted his car and raced through the back roads, carefully watching for anyone else coming along. He was home in under an hour. "Get me JKM," he said as he entered the house. The screen flickered for a moment, then a startled looking older man appeared, his image ten feet high. "Mr. Kent...what an honor!" The older man fumbled for words. "It's been a couple of years, hasn't it?" "We haven't spoken since I created the fund. You've received my donations on a regular basis, haven't you?" "They come in at the first of every month." The man smiled. "We've managed to do a lot of good work. We're even starting to get donations from people in the community. If you have the time, I'd like to show you-" "I'm a busy man," Calvin said curtly. "If you'd like, you can send me the information in a packet." He hesitated. "I understand you have a new executive director." The man nodded. "Sarah Knight. She's been working with us for the last couple of years. She's been one of our best volunteers, so when the position opened up, I gave it to her. She's more than qualified, and I've been happy with her work to date." Calvin frowned. If the woman had actually been in place for two years, it suggested that someone had been on his trail for at least that long. "Is there a problem with my having hired her?" Calvin shook his head. "Everything looks to be in order. I'll look forward to seeing your report." The man was almost pathetically grateful. Calvin gestured, and the screen went blank. Calvin gave a quick series of commands. He changed clothes quickly, then retrieved a color photograph as it emerged from his printer. He placed it in a pocket, then flew from the house at superhuman speeds. He rose over the forested areas of northern Texas and headed for Dallas. He landed in a poor section of town; the street cameras were in poor repair, and it was easy to find a place to land unseen. He emerged from an alley and stepped onto the street before heading towards one of the bus stops. Sarah Knight hadn't made many mistakes in creating her identity, but she had made a few. Most people weren't aware of the detail with which every single item they purchased using their Smartcard was electronically catalogued. The information was used by marketers and by the government in investigating cases. The knowledge that someone had purchased a copy of The Anarchist's cookbook in one state and household materials used for bomb making in another could be invaluable to investigators. The information was accessible to anyone with a little knowledge and determination. Calvin had accessed Sarah Knight's entire record. He knew every purchase she'd made since she'd turned twenty-one. He knew what feminine hygiene products she used. He knew what books and music she liked. He knew what she liked to eat and drink, and what movies she preferred to watch or rent. He knew who she contacted by telephone, and at what times. He had access to her public transportation records, making it easy to track her movements. If he wanted, he could pinpoint a single moment in time, and know exactly what she purchased and where. With a skilled eye it was possible to learn patterns of behavior; which stores and restaurants were patronized and when. Privacy was a long forgotten concept. These days, people chose to ignore the fact that their lives were open books. They tried not to think about who might be looking at their information, and to what uses it might be put. They remained mostly ignorant about the excruciating detail that could be learned about their lives. There was no right to privacy. It had been lost in increments, some for purposes of safety, others simply for convenience. The acceptance of one loss made the acceptance of the next even easier, until very few rights remained. Creating new identities was a challenge. The sheer volume of data involved was staggering. Calvin had become an expert at forging consumer purchasing histories; he even started work on a computer algorithm that would generate those histories for him based on various criteria. Because of Calvin's expertise, he could spot a fraud a mile away, and Sarah Knight had made a few errors. First, she had chosen to live well below her means. Casino workers were well paid in Dallas, yet Sarah Knight chose to live in a run down part of the city. Her food expenditures were frugal, and she chose not to own an automobile, using public transportation frequently. Her clothes were purchased at retail outlets, though she occasionally chose to splurge. Her utilities were normal, and her phone calls were limited to a small circle of people and businesses. She enjoyed the local theater, but always paid matinee prices. It all seemed to add up into a neat little package. Sarah Knight had made a few other mistakes though. She'd opted out of any life or health insurance plan, against the recommendations of her employer. These days it was both expected and almost mandatory; she must have gone to great lengths to avoid any examinations. There was no genetic data on her, so doctors would be unable to tailor drugs to her specific needs. She hadn't purchased any medicines or drugs within the last five years, not even a single aspirin. While it was possible that she was using cash to purchase medicines, as a way of concealing a serious illness, she wasn't withdrawing enough to cover any serious medication costs. She'd created a convincing history, with few errors to make anyone suspicious. Calvin hoped that by interviewing people he could discover a few more. A weather worn bus pulled to a stop in front of him. Calvin pulled one of his Smartcards out of a concealed pocket and slid it into a slot. The bus door opened. "Hello Mr. Thomas. Where can I take you?" Dallas was like most cities that still had living bus drivers. A few cities had managed to build automated monorail systems before they had lost their tax base to the wealthy and middle class fleeing to country homes, but Dallas wasn't one of them. It's fleet of buses was aging rapidly; there would be a crisis in only a few years if something wasn't done to upgrade the system, but the city didn't have the money. The bus driver was an older man, one of the few remaining in the city who had managed to retain his inner cheer. He wore a set of the data glasses; he could summon the police at a moments notice if he had to, and he had access to the records of every person who rode his bus. "I'd like to go downtown, to the Golden Lariat." "I don't have anyone else on my route at the moment. I guess the rain must be driving most of them away." "I'm a private detective." The older man nodded; it had been part of the information he had accessed. "Have you seen this woman?" Calvin held out the picture for the older man to look at. The driver glanced at it and grunted. "Who wants to know?" His formerly friendly manner changed in an instant. He closed the door and started the bus. "We believe that this girl was kidnapped by her father before the national identification system came online. Her mother hasn't ever stopped searching." "A custody case, eh?" The driver paused. "Why don't you just use the national registry? The prints will match up even if the name doesn't." Calvin shook his head. "They never printed her. I can't even be sure this is the right girl; her picture just matches an age-enhanced photo from the time she was a child." The bus driver nodded. "She's one of my regulars. I pick her up at the Kent building, and take her to work over at the Lariat. She's one of my last customers on the way home too. She's been riding my bus since I got the route four years ago, though she didn't start spending time at the Kent building till a couple of years ago." "What's she like?" "She's a nice girl. She keeps mostly to herself, but she always seems to have a nice word for people. I like her more than I like most people, and that's saying a great deal." Calvin soberly nodded, even as his mind raced. He'd been listening to the driver's heart rate, and it didn't sound as if he'd been lying. If she'd been in the area for at least four years, it conflicted with his timeline. He'd only been using multiple identities for the past five, and it seemed insane that anyone would have created a deep cover identity just for him, at least at that point. That didn't mean that she hadn't created the identity for some other purpose and was only now being turned onto his case. It made it all the more imperative that he find out what she was really up to. They arrived at the Golden Lariat, where business seemed to be booming. He managed to get in contact with the manager and discovered that Sarah Knight had been working as a dealer since the day the casino had opened. She was one of the most prized employees in the place, and she worked there five nights a week. She took Tuesdays and Wednesdays off; they were the slowest evenings and as she had seniority, she could set her own hours. Calvin flagged down a cab. He had no doubt that her college transcripts would seem genuine, and the employees of the local grocery stores would recognize her. His best bet was to confront her directly. It was late in the evening; it seemed likely that she would eventually return to her residence. He exited the cab quietly, having tapped out a generous tip on his Smartcard. On the outside, the building she lived in looked like nothing more than an abandoned warehouse. A quick scan of the upper floors revealed that the inside consisted of a couple of well-appointed loft apartments. None of the furnishings had been included on her Smartcard purchases. While it was possible that her foster parents had given her some of the furniture as gifts, Calvin doubted it. Much of the furniture was foreign made-Mexican, Chinese and Brazilian work, probably bought cheap. The interior of her loft was eclectically furnished, but somehow the different elements all seemed to work together to create an aesthetically pleasing whole. He dismissed the cab and approached the front door. He could hear the sounds of movement from the bottom floor. He looked through the wall and saw Sarah Knight sitting beside a small table, her face in her hands. He quit looking immediately and knocked on the door. His father had taught him that it was wrong to eavesdrop or spy on people. While he ignored that quite often (his mother had taken a more pragmatic approach to his abilities), he was still embarrassed whenever he caught someone in a compromising or personal situation. The door flew open before he could knock again. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Sarah Knight punched him in the stomach. He gasped as he went flying through the air to the other side of the street. That punch had hurt! It hadn't been enough to knock the wind out of him, but the surprise was almost as overwhelming. He hadn't felt pain since he was 12 years old. "Don't pretend that hurt!" Sarah was approaching him, and Calvin struggled to get to his feet. "I know who you are and what you are!" She hissed the words, her face red with anger. "You're a liar and a cheat!" She punched at him again, but this time Calvin was prepared. He grabbed her arms and was surprised at how strong she was. It was all he could do to hold her still. "Let's calm down and talk like decent human beings." She pulled away from him, rubbing her wrists. "Neither one of us is a human being, and you know it." Calvin stood, frozen, and it was a moment before he could speak. "I don't know what you are talking about." It was a lie, of course. No human could have punched Calvin hard enough to cause him pain; conversely, had Calvin been human, he'd be dead. Years of habit brought the lie to his lips, and Calvin regretted it the instant it came out. "I always wondered if there were any others." She stared at him contemptuously. "I expected better." Calvin glanced up and down the street. "Is this really the place to discuss this?" "I guess there isn't anything I can do to stop you. Come in." She waved him inside with ill humor. A table and chair sat near the door; behind it was a set of stairs leading up to the apartment above. The bottom level was cavernous and empty. "Go up the stairs; I have to lock up." "You aren't going to run again?" "Where could I run? We might as well have our conversation now, while we can." "Are you going anywhere?" "I'm sure the police will want to question me, since you forced me to leave the party early." Calvin made his way up the stairs into the loft above. It was an open-air design; the bedroom, the kitchen, the living room...everything was contained in one large space. The bathroom was separate, but the shower was visible from the rest of the area, concealed only by a piece of opaque glass. The décor was eclectic, but it all seemed to fit into one aesthetic whole. The furnishings weren't expensive, but they were well chosen, and they seemed to come from a number of different countries. The computer by the bed was ancient; it was at least ten years old. While that didn't mean as much as it might have in the heyday of computer design, when power doubled every eighteen months, it still put the system a full generation behind modern systems. It hadn't been top of the line when it was new either; it had a tiny twenty-seven inch flat screen, and an actual physical keyboard. She had a number of bookshelves. Calvin was surprised to see at least twenty books about the New Krypton invasion, including the two his mother had written. He was even more surprised to see all six of his novels in hardback. Otherwise, her reading tastes seemed to be as eclectic as her taste in furniture. Social psychology, philosophy, self help books...she had amassed an impressive reference library without leaving any trace in the official record. It was surprising that she could still find a bookstore that wasn't strictly online. Of course, she could probably travel as easily as he could to find the best deals. "Our parents probably knew each other." "What?" Calvin turned around, startled. "Your parents came from Smallville, right?" She hesitated. "I guess they could have come from Metropolis." "My father was from Smallville. My mother was from Metropolis." He nodded toward the bookshelf. "But I guess you'd know that." "Who are you?" she asked. "Why are you pretending to be Calvin Kent?" "I'm not pretending to be anybody...not right now." Calvin was surprised. He'd never had to prove that he was his father's son before. "My name really is Calvin Kent. My fingerprints and retinal scans are a matter of public record." "You could say the same about Mr. Jones and Mr. Thomas," Sarah said, obviously not impressed. Calvin hesitated for a moment. She obviously knew about his other identities; the bus driver had obviously called and warned her. She didn't seem to know that he was the son of Superman. For the moment, he'd keep it that way. "Mr. Jones and Mr. Thomas aren't real people. I've done my best to make them seem that way, but if you dig down far enough, you won't find what you are looking for. Calvin Kent was the name I was born with. If you'd like, I can call my mother; she'd vouch for me." For a moment, he thought she was going to accept his offer. Finally, she sighed. "I guess your mother wouldn't want anyone knowing what happened any more than mine did." Sarah walked to the bookshelf and pulled out one of the books written by Calvin's mother. "You'd think the New Kryptonians would have an enlightened society. They managed to create Superman...managed to bridge the gap between the stars. You'd think a race of telepaths would have learned a better way to live." "Lord Nor was an aberration." "He managed to convince half the New Kryptonians to follow him. You, more than anyone, should know what his men did to the people of Smallville." "Yes, I know." Calvin was silent for several moments. His father had lost friends to the New Kryptonians. There wasn't a day that passed when he didn't wonder if there wasn't something he could have done to save their lives. "You can't blame an entire race for the actions of a few renegades. Most of the people who supported Nor had no idea what he had become." "I live every day of my life with the consequences of what those people did." She paused. "So do you." Calvin felt awkward and off balance. He wasn't quite sure what she was getting at, but he had a gut feeling he wasn't going to like it. "My mother would be fifty years old today." Sarah clenched her fist. "My father would be fifty two. The New Kryptonians murdered them both." It suddenly occurred to Calvin where he'd seen the Knight name before. James Knight had been one of the casualties of the occupation of Smallville. "They couldn't have killed your mother. She died months after the invasion." Sarah walked to one of the picture windows and stared into the darkness outside. "My mother never gave up hope. Even after they killed her husband and...did what they did with her, she refused to lose faith in the idea that I was the natural child of her husband." Calvin grimaced. It would be hard to accept the idea that you had been conceived in ugliness. He had a brief flash of gratitude towards his parents; they'd loved each other and loved him. He might not have been so lucky. She glanced at him, then continued. "Even when things went wrong with the pregnancy, she refused to terminate." Sarah hesitated. "I was the only thing she was going to have left of her husband." "There were tests she could have run, even then." Calvin's voice was gentle. "She didn't want to know." Sarah scowled. "She had this...this alien thing growing inside her, and she didn't want to know about it. She died believing that she had her husband's child...and that was the only blessing." Calvin thought he could understand her pain. Calvin's mother had almost died bearing him. It had taken everything Dr. Klein had learned about Superman and his physiology to save her. Kryptonian and Human physiology were only barely compatible. He'd felt guilty when he'd learned about it as a teenager; he'd been sure his mother had wanted more children. He'd felt responsible. Calvin hesitated. "She would have loved you no matter what you became. Not knowing just made it a little easier for her." "I want to believe that. I always dreamed about what life would have been like if my mother hadn't died. I was sure she would have loved me with all my heart. I dreamed about having a mother...I knew a lot of kids didn't have fathers, but I dreamed of having a father as well." "It must have been hard growing up." Sarah nodded soberly, "My aunt didn't love me." "Is that why you ran away?" She didn't even question his knowledge. "I didn't run away. My aunt threw me out the moment she had proof that I wasn't the child of her brother." "You were just thirteen!" "I wasn't even human to her. She spent my entire childhood watching me...looking for any sign that I wasn't what I seemed to be. She never had the money to get the tests done...the money from the sale of my father's farm only went so far." "Children should be loved." She turned on him. "Don't pretend to be sympathetic and nice! I haven't forgotten that you are a liar and a cheat!" Calvin lifted his hands. "I lie to liars and cheat cheaters. Don't make me out to be something I'm not." He grimaced. "I may not be a Superman, but I'm no Lord Nor either!" "Power corrupts." Sarah scowled. "You take the easy way out...in small things at first. Maybe you use your special vision to cheat on a test...maybe it's something else. It gets easier; you start to lie in order to make easy money...you cheat at cards." She stepped towards him. "It gets easier and easier...and every time it seems just a little less wrong. You find yourself lying about more and more...it gets easier to make concessions." "Where do you think the money for things like the Jonathan Kent Foundation comes from?" Calvin's voice was defensive. What right did she have to criticize him? She didn't know him at all. "Do you give it all away to charity?" Calvin was silent. "I thought not. It's easier to cheat at cards than it is to make an honest living!" "So what am I supposed to do? Give it all up? Spend my whole life trapped in a small house out in the woods somewhere?" "You could help people." "What, by putting on blue spandex? I don't see you out there flying around, saving people." Calvin found himself raising his voice, although he hadn't intended to. He'd had this same argument too many times with his father. To have a total stranger repeating it was almost more than he could bear. "I never wanted any of this." Sarah looked away. "I know I'll never be good enough to even touch Superman's cape, but I do what I can." "People have an exaggerated opinion of Superman," Calvin's voice dropped to a normal level. He was sure by this point that she didn't know his father was Superman. She assumed he was like her, a child of the occupation. As yet, he had no real reason to trust her, so wouldn't correct her mistake. She hit him on the arm, hard enough to hurt. "Are you this physical with everyone, or is it just me?" Calvin rubbed his arm. "You don't have any right to talk that way about Superman! He's made his life stand for something; what have you done with your life?" Sarah's face was earnest. "He gives people something to look up to...not just ordinary people, but even someone like me!" Calvin sighed. He was tired of hearing people go on and on about Superman and all the good he had done. His parents' relationship was a matter of public record, and if she'd read his mother's books, she'd know about it. There wouldn't be any harm in telling her at least part of it. "I've known Superman for most of my life." Calvin hesitated. "You could say he's a friend of my parents. I guess I don't see him the same way everyone else does." "He knows what you are?" Sarah sounded surprised. Calvin nodded. "He thinks you should do more, and you don't want to listen." The certainty in her voice was irritating in the extreme. "The whole superhero thing just isn't me." "You sound awfully defensive for someone who knows he is right." Calvin shook his head. "There's nothing wrong with my life. I give to charities, I write books that entertain people...is it wrong for me to look for a little entertainment?" "It is if it leaves you feeling empty inside." The sound of distant sirens was audible to them both. "What about you? You spend your evenings dealing cards. You help a few people in your social work, but couldn't you do a lot more?" "I do what I can!" She tensed. "Card dealing may not exactly be what I want to do with my life, but at least it's honest work...when you don't cheat!" "You talk about me having an empty life, but what about you? You go from work to the center and back again. Who have you made friends with? Who have you loved?" Sarah was tense and angry, and Calvin immediately regretted his words. The sirens were even closer. "My life is none of your business! You don't know anything about me!" Calvin didn't have any real reason to trust this woman, but something about her called to him. It might have been the pain and loneliness he saw in her eyes. It might have been that he sensed within her a kindred soul. For whatever reason, he wasn't ready to allow her to run away again, at least not just yet. Calvin stepped closer to her, until he was well within her personal space. "I know how terrifying it can be to be twelve years old and start hearing voices in your head. You don't realize that it's people three houses down the block...not at first. Soon, you are hearing everything...thousands of voices...people laughing, screaming, crying. You hear people doing things no twelve year old should have to know about, and you think you are going mad." She stepped back from him, staring and seeming almost entranced. Calvin absently noted that the sirens seemed to be coming from nearby, but he couldn't force himself to look away from the woman in front of him. "Even once you know what it is, you still can't control it. It takes weeks to learn to filter things out...weeks where you can't eat and can't sleep because of all the noise." It had been easier for Calvin's father. He'd grown up amidst the silence of the Kent farm. His awakening had occurred one summer...it hadn't been nearly as difficult as Calvin's had been. They'd had to pull Calvin out of school, and he'd been forced to take his classes electronically. "Then, just as you think you've got it under control, your vision kicks in. That's not quite as bad; you can always close your eyes. It's bad enough though; you get a quick education, and at that age you can't force yourself to look away." Sarah stood, motionless. Calvin could see something in her eyes; she was responding to what she was saying. Encouraged, he pressed on. The sirens stopped, but Calvin could hear the sounds of several vehicles approaching from nearby. "We may be the only two of our kind in the entire universe." Calvin hesitated. "I know you better than anyone, Sarah. We may not agree on everything, but I think it would be a mistake to run away from each other." Calvin placed his hand on her arm, and she seemed to awaken from the trance. "You want to put me into your little black book?" Sarah shook her head. "I always knew good looking men were arrogant. I just never realized how arrogant they could be." Calvin gaped. Where had it all gone wrong? It was usually easier to get women to respond to him. "I'm not the criminal you seem to think I am. I'd like a chance to prove it. It would be nice if we could at least be friends." He sighed. "It's not as though we have that many people to confide in." She hesitated, then nodded her agreement. The vehicles were pulling to a halt outside the building. Calvin looked at Sarah quizzically. "Were you expecting company?" She shook her head and he turned his head to stare through the wall. He could see four SWAT teams deploying from vans. They were loaded with firearms as well as Gryph-guns. "Maybe we should continue our discussion elsewhere. You haven't left anything incriminating, have you?" She moved through the loft at superhuman speed, boxing up her computer, several of her books, and a large number of papers. She headed for a back window. Calvin checked quickly to ensure there weren't any observers or monitoring units. Then he followed her into the moonlit sky. Keeping up had never been a problem for Calvin; he'd spent his entire life holding back in order to match the pace of the rest of the world. It was disconcerting to be left behind, even for a moment. He put on a burst of speed and caught up with Sarah. "What was that all about?" "I should be asking you that question." She looked away. "We may have had a few experiences in common when we were younger, but that doesn't mean you know anything about me." Calvin flushed. The ground was passing by beneath them at a phenomenal rate. "I don't know what came over me. I felt a connection to you...one I've never felt before." She glanced at him, and said, "I'm sure you tell that to all the girls." Calvin began to protest, but let it die when he saw the look she was giving him. Maybe it had just been the shock of discovering that he wasn't alone in the world. That seemed as likely a scenario as any. It was a cloudy night, which allowed them to move without fear of detection from the satellites overhead. They flew below the scope of radar, and were careful to avoid the plane routes. "Those policemen seemed heavily armed to be questioning a simple thief." She stopped in midair. "Why would they think I'm a thief?" Her voice was dangerously low. "You were seen fleeing the scene at the party. As the only person missing, you are a natural suspect." She cursed under her breath. "You've caused me no end of trouble, do you know that?" "Why have you been following me, anyway?" "The meeting in Columbia was accidental. I took the job as a waitress hoping to meet Calvin Kent." She began flying again. "I tried to contact you through conventional channels, but you seem to have set up your systems to turn away all callers." "I get a lot of people asking for donations." "I didn't get any further by calling your publisher. I couldn't even get a decent picture; how you've been a public figure and managed to keep your picture off the web is a mystery to me." "I've been careful. Why have you been trying to get in touch with me?" They were over the mountains of Peru by this point, and Sarah began to descend. They dropped through a second layer of clouds and silently flew through the mountains. Sarah did not speak. They came to a mist-shrouded valley high in the mountains. Sarah led him to an ancient ruin situated on a cliff by a waterfall. It seemed like a good place to hide. Calvin could see that some long forgotten earthquake had blocked off the entrance to the valley. Furthermore, the elevation would make travel by helicopter difficult or impossible. Sarah led him past the ruin towards the cliff face beside the waterfall. He could see where she had dug out a tunnel behind the waterfall; she'd probably allowed the water to drag most of the leftover stone downstream. Even over the roar of the waterfall, he could hear the sound of machinery humming. "Hold this." Sarah shoved the box filled with papers and computer equipment into his hands, then flashed into the waterfall at superhuman speed. She returned with the hood of a car, which she held over her head in such a way as to temporarily block the stream of water from over her head. The water continued to beat down on either side of the car hood, but it made an admirable umbrella. "You aren't much for chivalry, are you?" Calvin muttered as he floated under the impromptu canopy she had provided. "I open my own doors and pay for my own meals too. Where have you been for the last fifty years?" "Some women like old fashioned good manners," Calvin said, stung. "Maybe the inbred debutantes you seem to spend time with do, but we're living in the era of the modern woman. I don't need any man to hold a door open for me; if I need to, I'll walk through the wall." "It's a matter of good manners and common courtesy," Calvin repeated stiffly. They were now inside the cavern, and Sarah leaned the hood against one wall. He noticed a large plastic bag on the floor beside the wall and he scowled. She hadn't needed a car hood at all; she'd done it just to needle him. "I don't need it." Calvin handed the box to her and gestured. "Ladies first," he said deliberately. Sarah had hollowed out a large area behind the waterfall, creating a cave the length and width of a football field. Even with her abilities, it must have taken time to hollow it out with her bare hands; she'd have had to give the river time to wash the rock she'd displaced downstream. The back of the cavern was filled with wooden boxes and crates. In one corner was a real antique; a silver bullet shaped travel trailer. Heavy electrical cords led from the trailer to a turbine spinning in the water. The satellite dish pointing through the wall of water behind them was early twenty first century. "What is all this?" "You'd be surprised at how cheaply you can get older things if you really try." "That has to be at least eighty years old!" "It was the top of the line in its time. The humidity in here isn't good for equipment, so I needed an area I could climate control." Calvin shrugged, and followed her into the trailer. The interior was dark, lit only by the lights of a dozen devices. Calvin's eyes adjusted almost immediately. He was surprised to see a more modern computer setup than the one that had been in her apartment. It wasn't a top of the line model, but it had been produced in the past five years. "You managed to buy all this with cash?" He asked. She nodded. "The gamblers sometimes like to leave big tips." "Why hide everything here?" "I don't actually spend much time at my loft. After the third time being burglarized, I decided to move most of my expensive computer equipment here." She pulled on a bulky pair of goggles and an outdated pair of cybernetic gloves. She began typing in midair. Calvin stood still for a moment, then asked, "Why have you been looking for me?" Sarah pulled the goggles off and handed them to him. "Take a look at this." He pulled the goggles on. It took him a moment to realize that he was looking at the records for the Jonathan Kent Center. "What am I looking for?" "The Center deals with the poorest of the poor, people who have slipped through the cracks. Many of them haven't even been entered into the system; they haven't been fingerprinted, had retinal scans taken, or had their genes mapped. " Sara hesitated. "The screen on the right is the official record of the people we've taken care of for the past five years. The screen on the left is my own copy." "You've got twenty people who aren't on the official record." "Their records have been erased." Sarah's voice was grim. Calvin frowned. "Those who are missing are all listed as having socialization problems." "They had no friends, no family. Indigents often have a nomadic lifestyle, so there wouldn't be anyone to question their disappearance." Calvin slipped the goggles off, and looked at Sarah for a moment. "You seem to have noticed." "One of the men on the list was my friend." She looked away. "When my aunt kicked me out of her house, I was left to wander the streets of Dallas alone. I was just thirteen years old and frightened out of my mind." She stepped back and sat on a small sofa. "It seemed like the whole world was rioting. They'd used the Gryph guns to shut down the Food Riots in Los Angeles before they even started, but there weren't enough to go around. Dallas especially hadn't received many of them. The National Guard came in using real guns...it was terrifying." Calvin nodded. As reporters his parents had been out in the middle of it. The whole country seemed to go insane for three days; he could remember watching everything happen on television. "Junior helped me to hide during that time. He showed me how to survive on the streets too." Sarah was silent for a moment. "I had it better than most; I didn't get hungry all that often, and I didn't get hot or cold either. I was a late bloomer, and it was easy to disguise myself as a boy." It was hard for Calvin to imagine Sarah disguised as a boy. Sarah spoke again, and her voice was dangerous. "I was strong even then...strong enough to hold off those who would take advantage of a child. Still...without Junior, I would have been an easy mark for the first person with an easy line. I owe him, and I'm not going to allow him to be erased." She sighed. "I came looking for you, hoping you'd have the resources to help me find him." Calvin nodded soberly. "So why were you in Columbia?" "The men you were playing cards with have numerous contacts with the underworld in Dallas. I'd hoped I could learn something of their plans. I found a job there pretty easily; they weren't checking the girls' identification." Calvin could imagine. "Did you learn anything? "I learned about twenty new ways to curse in Spanish after you left. It really wasn't very nice to make them think you'd headed into the sewer. I hear the son of the cartel leader slipped and fell in." Calvin grinned at her. "I didn't hear anything, and I don't have any idea where to go now." Calvin was silent for several moments. "The police were too heavily armed just to be dealing with a possible accomplice to a robbery." "They may have assumed that I had a black market set of contact lenses or glasses; the robbers had Gryph guns...presumably they had the glasses too." "Still...three swat teams would be overkill, unless they expected to meet the entire gang inside." "I haven't done anything else to warrant suspicion." Sarah frowned. "I've spent my whole life trying to avoid attention." Calvin could believe that. He had a feeling that Sarah was opening up for the first time to him and him alone. It was a heady feeling, one he'd have to be wary of. It would be all too easy to reciprocate, to reveal things he'd never revealed to anyone...and he didn't really have any reason to trust her. "I'm guessing that you started asking questions about your friend, and about the other people who have disappeared." When she nodded, he continued. "What if the two events are connected?" Sarah shook her head. "The drug cartels have power, but as far as I know, they don't have anyone high in the police rolls. It's getting harder and harder to bribe a police officer. The system raises a red flag if a cop starts receiving income from unknown sources. People start commenting if a cop starts spending cash too." "There's always blackmail," Calvin said mildly. He paused, then said, "Actually, I was wondering if your problem wasn't with someone other than the drug cartels. Those Swat teams arrived awfully fast; I'm wondering if they weren't taking their orders from someone higher up." "The government?" Sarah looked alarmed. "Do you think they know what I am?" Calvin shook his head. "They would have come better prepared. I think that maybe you tripped a red flag while you were looking into your friend's disappearance. These people were chosen for the fact that no one would ask any questions if they disappeared." "Why would the government want a group of homeless men and women?" Calvin stared at her bleakly. "There were a few things in common in their files. They were all under forty five years old. They were all in more or less perfect health, and they were all free of mental disease. None of them had children or spouses, and all were listed as being more or less alone." He sighed. "Why would anyone want them? They wouldn't make good soldiers; most of them don't have any marketable skills." She caught the look he was giving her and stiffened. "You think they're being used as test subjects? What makes you think the government would do that?" "In the name of the greater good?" Calvin snorted. "It's been done before. Remember the Gulf War? There were other incidents before that too. My parents believe that certain rogue elements in the government have been abducting people. They've been trying to gather evidence for years." "Yes, but they weren't actually kidnapping people. They were giving them treatments without their full knowledge, but they weren't taking them from their homes." "It's harder to hide tampering now than it was back then. Military personnel are less likely to simply volunteer for dangerous procedures anyway." "All this could apply just as easily to the drug cartels. Maybe they need subjects for some new kind of drug?" Calvin shook his head. "They have an unlimited supply of volunteers. Things may be getting better here, but abroad, a junkie is always getting ready for a better high." Sarah sighed. "I don't even know where to start looking." Calvin smiled, and pulled a card from his pocket. "I'd like to offer my services. " Calvin was rather proud of the cards; he'd spent a great deal of money on them. She took the card, and gasped as a holographic eye appeared in midair above the card, along with the logo. "Doubting Thomas Investigations?" "It's one of the advantages to being a liar and a cheat. I get to wear lots of different hats. I've got a little bit of experience in the investigation business; my parents are two of the best, and I guess you could say I have it in my blood." She didn't say anything for a long moment, and Calvin could see the conflict playing itself out in her face. Finally she nodded. "Junior was my friend. If you really think you can help...." Calvin leaned forward. Sarah sighed. "You're hired." "I'm joking of course," Calvin said.. "Under normal circumstances you probably couldn't afford to hire me. However, since you've caught my interest, I'll do this one pro bono." "How generous." Sarah's tone was acidic, but Calvin didn't let it bother him. "I actually own a private investigation firm." Calvin grinned. "The employees think I spend most of my time in semi-retirement on a yacht off Aruba." "And do you?" "Well, the yacht's real. I rent it for cash to a group of Senators who want to avoid any publicity on their days off." Sarah stared at him. "You make underhanded deals with Senators. Why am I not surprised?" "The company does a lot of work for Senators." Calvin grinned. "It maintains the illusion that Harold Thomas actually has a life, and it helps maintain good relations with clients." "Are you honest in any aspect of your life?" "Honesty is highly overrated." Calvin glanced down. "I'm sure you'd think so." Her voice was dry. "We aren't going to be able to do much more tonight." Calvin glanced at the glowing digital readout that was providing most of the light inside the small trailer. They wouldn't be able to do much at four in the morning. "We should get some sleep." She nodded. "I'll sleep in here." She patted the low couch she was sitting on. "What...I don't get at least a pillow, or a blanket or something?" "You afraid you'll get a crick in your neck?" Sarah laughed sarcastically. "That's not a problem for either of us." "I got a crick in my neck once!" Calvin shrugged. "I was seven years old, but still...." Sarah walked to the back of the trailer and pulled a light sheet and a tiny pillow out of an overhead bin. "This is the best I can do. Don't try to tell me you'll get cold...I've heard that line before." "You think I'd try a line on you?" "I think you've spent a little too much time with people who don't really care about anyone except themselves." "Hey, I try to limit my time in Washington to no more than one day a month." Sarah shoved the bedding into his arms and said, "No peeking either." "I could say the same about you." Sarah snickered. "Women don't look at men like that." "I've got super hearing...I know better." Calvin smirked as he noticed a small flush of embarrassment on her cheeks. They both knew that women were often much more graphic when they talked about sex than men were. Men tended to speak in generalities, women in specifics. "So you're an eavesdropper as well as a peeping Tom." "Not as a rule...but sometimes I can't help but hear things." It was strange how much more attractive Sarah was when she was blushing. "Go to bed." He shrugged, and headed out the door of the small trailer. It was darker outside now than it had been before. The moon must have set, leaving the light that spilled from the windows of the trailer as the only light source for the whole cavern. Even to his enhanced vision, it was dim. It was warm and humid too, though the heat didn't really affect him. Calvin found a flat spot, allowed himself to hover flat, and clutched the pillow and sheet around him. The sounds of the waterfall and the hum of the trailer soon lulled him to sleep. He dreamed. It was the same dream that had plagued him over and over for the past ten years. He was speeding down a back road, and Skyler was pulling up beside him. It was fun - the feeling of the open road beneath him, the laughter of his friends. Calvin looked over at the other car to give his friend a gesture of appreciation. He reeled in horror as he realized that only bare bloody bones filled the driver's seat of the other car. A skull turned and grinned at him, bloody tears streaming from its eye sockets. The others in the car were still alive, but were screaming in terror at the sight of their driver. They never even heard the crash. Calvin had heard it again and again, both in his dreams and sometimes while awake, over the past few years. It never failed to hurt him. Calvin found himself in the truck driver's cab, his fist raised to strike. This time there were no sirens to save him. Instead, in a moment of blind, unyielding rage, his fist rose and fell. There was a sound like that of a watermelon being crushed, and then there was blood everywhere. Calvin woke, his body drenched with sweat. He'd never told his father how close he had come to murder that night. It wasn't something he thought his father would understand. The world believed that Superman was perfect, and Calvin knew better than anyone that wasn't true. However, his father didn't seem to have the same sort of dark side that Calvin did. The anger that hovered at the base of Calvin's skull never seemed to touch his father, and it made Calvin afraid. The New Kryptonians had shown the world what harm supermen could do if they were unrestrained. One superman who lost control could cause incalculable damage. All it would take would be a single mistake, one instant where Calvin lost control, even a little. Human lives were fragile, and if Calvin chose to ignore some of his father's teachings, one remained with him. Killing was unacceptable, under any circumstances. The sort of anger Calvin knew himself capable of was incompatible with his father's ideals. It was incompatible with everything Calvin had been raised to believe, and it frightened him. A moment of anger, and a life could be lost. It was almost inconceivable. Calvin noted that the cavern was lighter; apparently the sun would soon rise. He could hear the sounds of Sarah moving around inside the trailer. He let his feet drop to the ground. She opened the door, looking at him speculatively. "You had a rough night." "I slept like a baby." She shook her head. "My hearing is at least as good as yours, maybe a little better. The sound of your heart beating woke me up; our heart rates are already faster than those of normal humans. Yours was beating like a jackhammer." "It wasn't anything." "Maybe it's a guilty conscience." "It's none of your business." Calvin refused to look at her. "I'm sure you have parts of your life that you aren't proud of either." She was silent for a moment. "What do we do now?" "We have a long day ahead of us. First, I'll need to know exactly what you've found out on your own. Then we'll see what we can find out about your friend, and about the people who set the police on you." She nodded quietly. Calvin handed the bedding back to Sarah. "There may be nothing there, but if your own investigation triggered some red flags, we may be able to trace the commands back to whoever is responsible. To do it, we'll need to return to my place. Your system here is fine...but mine is the best money can buy." She scowled. Calvin braced himself for another diatribe about ill-gotten gains, but Sarah changed her mind. She returned to the trailer, switched off a number of systems, and then closed the door behind her. "All right, let's go." They had to be even more careful about keeping under cloud cover during the day, but although it required that they detour and take the long way around, it was only a few minutes until they reached the back door to Calvin's home. Calvin froze as he reached for his doorknob. He could hear several human heartbeats towards the front of the house. Luckily, he usually entered from the back door. He turned slightly and gestured. Sarah nodded, and faded back into the trees. He entered the house silently, uttering a quiet command to keep all the lights dim. A flash of x-ray vision revealed several uniformed officers at the front of his house, with a squad car perched out front. They seemed to be waiting for something. Calvin spun out of his clothing and into his shower, being careful to remain long enough to wet his hair. He wrapped a towel around his waist and put another in his hand. After a glance around his home to make sure nothing incriminating was immediately obvious, he spoke. "Invisibility." he said quietly. He'd carefully programmed his computer to be able to conceal the existence of many of his sensitive files, making them seem to be part of large executable programs. Any attempt to access them without using the password would activate a virus that would quickly destroy the entire system. He heard the sound of his doorbell. A quick glance in the mirror reassured him that he looked as if he had stepped out of the shower. He opened the door. "Calvin Kent?" Two officers stood on the other side of the door, one male and one female. "Yes, officers? How can I help you?" Calvin ran his hand through his wet hair. Two sets of mirrored lenses stared impassively back at him. The female officer held out a small photograph of Sarah. "You were seen fleeing the scene of a crime last night in the same direction as this woman." "I explained all that to the officer last night. Didn't he fill out the report correctly?" Calvin was careful to project an aura of bored impatience. "The criminals didn't bother to take anything from me, so I don't see that I have anything to add." "This woman took part in a firefight last night and killed two police officers. We'd very much like to know where she is." Calvin froze. He knew very well that Sarah hadn't gotten into a firefight with the police, much less killed anyone. She wouldn't have had time. "I haven't seen her since last night." Calvin shook his head. "I didn't even know she worked for one of my charities until the officer informed me about it." Calvin gestured. "Come on in." The two officers entered his house. "I guess you never really know what anyone is going to be up to. After the officer told me about the woman's connection to one of my charities, I called my head man at the Jonathan Kent Center and he had nothing but praise for her." He paused for a moment. "I had no idea she even existed until last night." "We notice you don't keep any cameras on your property." "It's a status thing...none of my neighbors have them either. Of course after last night..." Calvin affected a shudder. "Well, I'm generally strong enough to handle myself in a fist fight, but what can anyone do against a pistol or a gryph-gun?" He could smell the pheromones coming from the female officer, and he could hear her heart beating a little faster as he toweled himself off. She was attracted to him; hopefully he'd be able to use it to his own advantage. "I can't believe I stood that close to such a dangerous criminal. Do the police have any idea what she wanted? There were many rich and famous people at that party last night." "That's a matter under investigation. We've had trouble accessing your computer files. Can you explain that?" "I'm a wealthy man. I invest in any number of private ventures that I don't care to have made public knowledge." "I'll have to request that you allow me access to your systems." Calvin had the right to refuse. Refusal, however, would place him under suspicion. "I'll agree to that, within limits. Assuming that you don't find anything useful to your investigation, I'll have to ask that you erase any other information you find. I'm sure there are plenty of people who'd like to get access to my new book before it's published." "We are the police; you can trust us." The man's voice was flat. "Nevertheless, that's what my lawyer has advised me to demand in these cases." "You expected to find yourself in this situation?" "Not really. But after the Los Angeles Police accidentally released Mercedes Rule's new novel, it became public domain; and she lost the copyright. If you'll check subsection 62,345 of the civic code, you'll find the exact procedure required." "You're very familiar with the rule of law." "My publisher was instrumental in getting it passed. He's very interested in making sure that Texas remains a publishing center. If we aren't careful, we could go the way of New York and Los Angeles." The male officer remained still for almost a minute. Calvin knew he was checking on the relevant regulations as they flashed by on the inside of his glasses. The female kept her eyes on him; even though he couldn't see her eyes, he knew she was looking. The officer nodded. "We'll take care of it, Mr. Kent." He turned and headed for the squad car to pick up some equipment. The female officer leaned toward him, and said, "I've read your last three books, Mr. Kent. We'll keep this as painless as possible." The woman hesitated. "I gather you aren't dating anyone steadily." Calvin smiled as broadly as he could and leaned forward a little. "I don't make any secret of the fact that I like spending time with women." He could see his own naked torso reflected in the lenses of her glasses. She was beginning to perspire, and her heart rate accelerated again. "Is this woman as dangerous as they say?" "She's a cop-killer. That's all we really need to know," The woman's voice tightened and she stiffened as her partner returned with a piece of equipment the size of an old-fashioned laptop computer." "Where do you keep your central unit?" "I keep it under the breakfast bar." Calvin gestured. His kitchen was separated from the living room only by a breakfast bar. The male officer squatted and inserted a probe from his device. "You don't mind me getting dressed, do you?" He smirked inwardly at the thought that the female officer wanted to protest. "Go right ahead. This may take me a while." The female officer followed him back into his bedroom, looking around carefully. "I'll change in the bathroom." Calvin walked into the bathroom, and changed clothes at superspeed. He switched on his hair dryer, even as he used heat vision to dry his hair. He slipped on his glasses and wristbands and activated them. His intrusion into the system almost set off the police officer's device. Calvin was forced to be careful, but he managed to access the information that had been previously downloaded into the device. He placed the information into one of his hidden files, then did his best to make sure the policeman wouldn't find anything of importance. He had finally satisfied himself when he heard a knock at the door. He slipped the glasses and goggles off and carefully hid them on the top shelf of his closet, under a set of towels. "Are you all right in there, Mr. Kent?" Calvin slapped on expensive French cologne, then opened the door. The female officer peered into the bathroom, as though she expected to see someone else inside. This brought her close to him in the doorway, and she froze. "I think we're done here. Thank you for your cooperation in this matter." Calvin leaned forward. "If I can be of any assistance...any assistance at all...please feel free to call me." She stared up at him, unmoving, then smiled. "I'll keep that in mind, Mr. Kent." Calvin followed the woman back into the living room. The male officer scowled. "You've been very helpful, Mr. Kent. We'll be in touch." The two officers left. Calvin smiled for a moment. They'd leave with the impression that he was a womanizer, but hopefully they'd think he was harmless. He turned to find Sarah waiting for him. "You don't have any shame, do you?" She'd been watching the entire thing from back in the woods, he realized. For a moment, he wondered if she'd liked what she'd seen. "We have more to worry about." He closed the door behind him. He raised his voice. "Release the files...password integrity." He waited several seconds for the computer to reorganize the information. "Give me the contents of file x-chiba-three." Information flashed across the screen for several seconds before Calvin said, "Stop!" The images ceased moving, leaving one set frozen on the wall. Sarah gasped as she looked at the pictures of two men projected onto his wall. "Those are the police officers I talked to about Jacob being missing." "According to the police records, they are also the men the police are claiming you shot and killed last night when they stormed your loft." She stared at him wordlessly. "Culverson and Gutierrez can't be dead." Sarah was almost at a loss for words. "I talked to them just the other day...they were going to look into the disappearances." "Someone didn't want either them or you looking around." Calvin's voice was grim. "Killing them and blaming you is the simplest solution." Sarah stared at the faces on the wall for several long moments. "They both had families." "At one time, so did every man who was missing." Calvin hesitated. "They've got every policeman in the state looking for you; you won't be able to use your Smartcard anywhere in the country without it raising a flag." "They weren't supposed to get hurt." "They risked their lives every day to prevent the sort of thing that's happening. They knew the risks." "It was just supposed to be a missing persons case." "Obviously it's more than that." She sighed. "They were good men, local cops that everybody liked. That's not so common anymore." Calvin hesitated, then said, "Bad things happen to good people sometimes. If we don't learn to accept it, we won't ever get anywhere." Sarah simply stood staring at the faces on the screen for several long moments. Calvin pulled a second set of wristbands from beside the couch. "Give me a few minutes and I'll create a false identity for you. It won't stand up to much scrutiny; the better ones can take even me up to a week to create. We'll have to do something about your appearance as well." She nodded soberly. "I suppose you have a great deal of experience avoiding the law." "If you want to live free these days, that sort of experience is invaluable." Calvin's hands flashed over the virtual keyboard; he had enough practice using the wristbands that he didn't actually need the glasses to see the key positions, and the information was appearing on his wall in letters six inches tall. The information flashed past on the screen, too fast for the human eye to see. Sarah, however, had no trouble keeping up. "You are making me a junkie? Addicted to Grab and to Rip...and a dealer too?" Sarah's voice rose with outrage. "We won't be dealing with angels," Calvin said dispassionately. "A criminal record is a key to acceptability to some people. I'll create another couple of identities as well. A teacher unemployed in the latest wave of layoffs and a wealthy Internet heiress." Sarah nodded, slightly mollified. "I suppose it could have been worse. Still, do I look like a Grab addict?" "Addicts haven't been using needles for the past five years; besides, you've supposedly been drug free for the past four months." "What if they call the rehab center?" Sarah asked, watching the information roll across the screen. "They won't. Most people have become utterly dependent on online sources of information." Calvin grinned. "Just in case though...I gave you the same name as one of the patients recently released from there. The staff will remember the name; the woman has a mild resemblance to you, and I've replaced the picture in their files." "Won't there be some danger if that woman comes back?" "She won't be coming back. She overdosed on Grab this morning. I've suppressed the records of her death." "You really are a cold and heartless bastard, aren't you?" Calvin let his hands drop and turned to her in surprise. "I'd have prevented her death if I could. Since she doesn't have any living relatives, her body has already been donated to a medical school. I'm simply taking advantage of what has happened to her to help prevent an injustice from happening to others." "So the end justifies the means." Sarah's voice was flat. Calvin nodded. "As long as the ends don't actually injure the innocent, yes, I think they do." Calvin gestured at the screen, and the images of the missing men appeared. "You don't think these are the only victims, do you? Most likely they are taking a few here and a few there from all across the country...if not the world. There's no way of telling how widespread this will end up being. "It seems wrong to do it like this." "You have to look to the greater good," Calvin sighed. "We don't always get to choose the path we'd like to travel in life; sometimes you have to travel the low road." Sarah was silent as Calvin began to type furiously in mid-air. The two other identities took only a few minutes to finish. Calvin stopped typing. "I've got a computer program that generates your consumer goods purchases over the past ten years or so. It'll take a few minutes to create a history for all three identities. Why don't we have a drink?" Sarah nodded. "Juice or soda?" "I'd have thought you'd offer alcohol to your female guests." Calvin shrugged. "It wouldn't really affect either of us. I don't need to get my dates intoxicated; and since I don't like the taste, there isn't much reason to keep it around. I drink at parties to maintain an image...but this is my home, the one place I can be myself." "You don't bring your dates here? "No. Other than my mother and that police officer earlier, you are the only female ever to enter my humble abode." Calvin looked around for a moment. "Not many males have been here either." "I'll take juice...whatever you have." Calvin poured two glasses of orange juice, emptying the carton. He flashed the carton's bar code by the scanner on the refrigerator, then tossed the carton into the garbage can. The system would inform his local grocer, who would ensure that his weekly deliveries replaced everything he had used up. Calvin handed her the glass of orange juice and sipped from his own. He turned back to the screen, which was finished. He quickly went over the lists, individualizing them. He increased the over-the-counter medication purchases by the teacher identity, especially during the winter and over the cold season. The drug dealer developed exotic tastes in music and the debutante a predilection for offbeat magazines and books. "You have to individualize the purchase patterns, give them a little life; if they are too perfect, people who are skilled at looking at this sort of information will notice. I've eavesdropped on NSA training courses a time or two, and I have a good idea of the sort of things they are looking for. I'm sure the underworld has people who are almost as skilled." Sarah nodded. "What if I'm asked about the music or the books?" "I'll give you the complete set; at full speed it shouldn't take ten minutes to assimilate everything." "Computer, voice mode. Accept input from the following voice." He turned to her again. "Try to pinpoint the time and place from which your friend was kidnapped." "He went missing 10 days ago...November 11th, 2024, between one o'clock A.M. and eight o'clock A.M." She turned to him. "I've questioned a lot of the people in the neighborhood, and that was as close as I could get it.' She turned back to the screen. "He was living in an abandoned apartment at 1300 Harry Hines Boulevard and was seen entering it before he disappeared." Calvin nodded. "That'll be enough." He lifted his arms and began to type quickly. Maps began to flash across the screen with superhuman quickness. A final street map appeared in extreme closeup, with blinking lights and black dots." "The cameras in the area are all non-functional." "The city hasn't cared much about the poor sections of the city for a long while." "I'm sure whoever took him was aware that the cameras weren't working." Calvin rapidly typed a series of commands into the computer. "However, every street that exits the area has a camera at some point. I'll simply have the computer look for vehicles that entered and exited the area during the time frame indicated." "That's a pretty sophisticated program. Do you use it often?" Calvin shook his head. "I'm using the Dallas Central Traffic Authority system. The police use it all the time when they are tracking suspects who may have entered an area not covered." "Won't the police notice that you are using their system?" "I'm logged in as a legitimate officer. The fact that the officer has no real existence doesn't matter to the system. If the men in black investigate too closely, they'll get a nasty surprise." "You like to live on the edge." Calvin glanced back at her. "Why not? Everybody has to have a hobby." A list of vehicle registration numbers appeared. Three hundred forty seven vehicles had both entered and left the area. "Let's eliminate all vehicles which have entered and left the area at least five times in the days following the kidnapping." The list shrank to twenty three vehicles. "Let's eliminate all vehicles not registered to Dallas residents." That eliminated all of the vehicles. "Let's go back a step. Let's see if any of the owners are listed as government employees." None were. "Did any head out of town that same night?" Sarah asked suddenly. Calvin typed, and then shook his head. "Did any spend much time in other blind spots in the system?" Three had. From that point it was easy to discover that a government owned van had left one of the blind areas twenty minutes after one of the three vehicles had spent a suspiciously long time in the area. The government van had headed straight for the airport. Cameras had been placed throughout the airport to prevent baggage handler theft. One set went blank ten minutes before a small plane left the airport, headed for Columbia. It's function was inexplicably restored an hour later. "We haven't proven anything," Calvin said, "But I'll bet that we have it right. The trail will be harder to pick up in Columbia; we'll have to go there in person. I have an identity that does some business down there from time to time." "Not as a gambler, I hope." "We'll be all the way on the other side of the country. It's just as well; I had an appointment to keep in the area tomorrow in any case." Calvin gestured, and the screen went blank. "Editor's office, Daily Planet, please." It was only a moment before the familiar logo of the Daily Planet was replaced by a view of the office. Lois Lane didn't look like she was fifty eight years old, in spite of the fact that she'd never bothered to have any cosmetic surgery. She looked like a woman in her mid-forties; her years with Clark Kent had been kind to her. The anti-aging drugs she'd been taking for the past five years helped, of course, but Lois had always had a timeless sort of beauty. She'd made peace with herself many years earlier, and that inner serenity had allowed her to become an emotional rock. His father said that Lois had once been a babbler. That wasn't the person Calvin had grown up knowing. His mother was a self-assured woman who was comfortable holding the reins of power. She could have telecommuted to work each day, never leaving her home like the majority of her peers. The Daily Planet was now entirely electronic; it would have been easy to work entirely as a virtual presence. Lois Lane had always preferred to be in the middle of the action. Furthermore, she'd always managed to keep her home life separate from her work life. The fact that her small office and a bullpen with four desks was all that was left of the physical presence of the Daily Planet did not phase her. Her influence was even broader than ever. "It's good of you to call. I'm glad your father was able to track you down." "I may have something on the Sanderson story, Mom. It's happened again, this time at the center I set up for Granpa." Lois nodded grimly. "We've been trying to get evidence for years without much success. Do you think you'll be able to find anything?" "I have a few leads...nothing I can prove, just yet, but hopefully I'll have more to offer in a day or two." "You ARE still going to Thanksgiving dinner this year, aren't you? Gramps and Aunt Lucy have really been looking forward to seeing you." Calvin nodded. "It's hard to believe Gramps is still working after all these years." At eighty years of age, Sam Lane was showing no signs of slowing down, and Calvin was glad of that. He'd lost his other grandparents over the years, and he needed that connection with the past. Luckily, Sam seemed to be in better health than ever; while his latest wife was half his age, she seemed to be good for him. "Who is the young lady standing beside you?" Calvin could see the curiosity in his mother's eyes, and mentally, he sighed. Once Lois decided to know something, she found out about it regardless of the cost. It would be easier in the long run to give her what she wanted, at least in part. "This is Sarah Knight. She brought what was happening to my attention; now she's on the run from the police for something I know she didn't do." Lois looked at Sarah appraisingly. "You are sure there isn't any truth to the charges?" Calvin flushed. She didn't need to be so blunt. "I had already left with Sarah when the crime was supposedly committed. They are trying to eliminate the evidence. I'll send you a packet of what we've got so far." "I wouldn't send anything online," his mother said. "I know you have the best encryption software around, or we wouldn't be talking like this, but still..." Calvin nodded. "I'll have a hard copy delivered air mail." Lois was silent for several moments. "You should really call more often." "I know. I just get so busy sometimes...and things get so tense with dad." "Try to make peace with him. You'd both be much happier." "I'll try." "If your friend has no place else to go, she'd be welcome to join us for Thanksgiving." For a moment Calvin couldn't speak. His mother rarely chose to even admit that his dates existed, much less invite them into her home. He was surprised to hear Sarah speak. "I'd be happy to accept, Mrs. Lane, assuming circumstances permit. I'm a big fan of your work, and I'd love to talk to you about it." Calvin turned to stare at Sarah. He hadn't told Sarah that his father was Superman because he still wasn't sure he could trust her. His father's secret wasn't his to reveal; he'd need to talk to him before they met. It would be all too easy for Sarah to notice things about his father that weren't exactly human. Lois was nodding. "We'll be expecting you then." Calvin grimaced. "I'll get the information to you as quickly as I can." There was time to worry about Thanksgiving later. He wasn't sure how it had happened so quickly. His mother had seen Sarah for less than a minute before asking her to dinner. She smiled at him, and he almost groaned at the twinkle in her eye. It meant trouble; it always had. The screen went blank. Calvin turned an