Without Checking The Water Level
By ML Thompson <thomplaw@tbaytel.net>
Rated: PG-13
Submitted: November 2002
* * * * * * * * *


CONTENT WARNING:
***This story is set in a setting of civil war. Readers 
should be aware that it contains scenes and depictions of 
struggle and some elements of violence which some may find 
disturbing.***


This is a fanfic based on the television show, Lois and 
Clark: The New Adventures of Superman. No copyright 
infringement is intended. I recognize that the characters 
are not mine. I am just borrowing them for a little fun and 
not for any profit. In this story, I use portions from the 
various episodes of Lois and Clark. Sometime I might use 
these portions in context and sometimes I might use them 
out of context. The portions taken from the series might 
include, but are not limited to, using actual words, 
phrases and/or sentences, paraphrasing, twisting sentences 
around to change the meaning, using larger segments and 
simply alluding to an idea. I sometimes have the same 
characters say or think a particular line, idea and/or 
segment and sometimes I give those lines, ideas and/or 
segments to someone else. 

Furthermore, I recognize that putting the above disclaimer 
on this story does not justify any breaches of copyright 
and/or breaches of trademark which might be contained 
herein. I rely on two things to keep from being sued. 
First, the mercy of WB and any and all other holders of 
rights to the series, the individual episodes and/or the 
characters. Second, I rely on the fact that I am not 
deriving any profit from either the writing or the posting 
of this story.

I would like to thank all those who answered my questions 
about pregnancy, Wonder Woman and wakes for the dead on 
Zoomway's message boards. Your answers were very helpful. 
And my continuous gratitude goes out to Gerry Anklewicz for 
her Beta reading skills. And to Carol Malo for, as usual, 
challenging me to do better, I'd like to express my 
appreciation. Also, I'd like to thank Wendy Richards for 
her contributions to this story.

"You've got that right.
You betcha.
Tell me about it.
Oh ya. Oh ya. Oh ya."
(This has been 'A Canadian Moment', brought to you by the 
Royal Canadian Air Farce.<g>.)

Two things you need to keep in mind while reading this 
story. First, this story takes place in the mid to late 
1980s. Second, Lois and Clark are a lot younger in this 
story than they were in the series.


* * * * * * * * *
WITHOUT CHECKING THE WATER LEVEL
By: ML Thompson
PG-13
November 2002
* * * * * * * * *

He laid his arm across the back of the couch while allowing 
his fingers to play gently with her hair. Knowing from 
years of experience that this was the moment to make his 
move, he leaned in, claiming her mouth. He was rewarded by 
her hand making its way to his face. His free hand wandered 
absently down her side, coming to rest against her chest.

When she began to pull away, he moved further down as if 
touching her there had been an accident. He also 
intensified his efforts on her mouth, promoting the 
impression that kissing her was his main goal. It wasn't. 
However, he'd been with enough women to know how to get a 
woman into bed - and that was his objective here. Tonight 
was the night. She had been acting coy long enough.

His hand continued its seemingly aimless wandering down her 
body. He moved it over to her stomach as he shifted 
positions. He let it sit there for a moment before slipping 
it under the bottom of her sweater.

Lois immediately pulled back.

"Cherie?" asked Claude as if completely confused by her 
sudden withdrawal - although in truth he'd expected it.

"I just think it's getting late. Maybe we should call it a 
night," Lois said.

Claude let out a breath. "How long are you planning to make 
me wait?" he asked.

"I'm just not ready," she informed him.

He got up off the couch, turning his back to her.

"Claude, please don't be mad," Lois begged. 

He turned towards her. "I'm not mad. I'm just starting to 
wonder what's going on here. I mean, we've been dating for 
almost two months. Are you just using me?"

"What?"

"What am I supposed to think, Lois?" Claude asked. "You 
came to work for the Planet almost six months ago. And you 
made sure everyone knew that they were looking at the soon 
to be greatest reporter who had ever walked the Earth. Even 
when we're on a date - you're working. Asking questions. 
Probing for trade secrets. It's almost as if you consider 
me your own private tutor.

"Now, I wouldn't mind that except it almost seems as if 
that's all I am. Every night it's the same thing. 'I'm just 
not ready, Claude.' Are you ever going to be ready? Or are 
you just an information junkie and I'm your dealer?"


Lois looked down.

"That's what I thought," Claude said sadly, heading for the 
door. "Maybe we should just forget the whole thing."

"No!" exclaimed Lois, jumping up. "That's not how I think 
of you. And..." Her voice trembled slightly. "...I don't 
want to lose you."

He turned back towards her and gently stroked her cheek. 
"You're just not ready for an adult relationship," he 
informed her. "And I'm not willing to wait 'til you are. So 
why don't we just recognize that this wasn't meant to be?"

Claude was rewarded by a look of near panic on Lois' face. 
This was his expertise. During the past couple of months, 
he'd listened carefully and asked the right questions, just 
to get to this moment. And all that asking and listening 
had paid off - he knew her weakness. Although she said very 
little about her family, he'd managed to discern that she 
was estranged from them and was starved for love and 
affection. So he had doted on her, letting her believe that 
not only did he love her, but that he was the only one who 
did - possibly the only one who ever would. And tonight, he 
was going to use that information to claim the prize. 

"Lois, I love you," Claude continued softly. "I don't know 
why you can't believe that? I've done everything I can to 
reassure you. I know you don't have a lot of experience 
being loved - even by your own family. But you are letting 
it push us apart. I need to know that you love me, too."

"I do love you, Claude," she said, stepping up closer in 
order to kiss him. 

He allowed the kiss before backing away. "Maybe we should 
start seeing other people," he suggested. Having made his 
pitch, he gave her a sad smile before heading for the door.

"Spend the night," Lois said as his hand landed on the 
doorknob.

With his back to her, Claude smiled. He turned slowly 
towards her, hiding his expression of triumph. All his 
careful planning was about to pay off. "Are you sure?" he 
asked softly, as if he really cared.

"I'm sure, Claude. Spend the night," Lois reiterated.

* * * * * * * * *
EIGHT WEEKS LATER
* * * * * * * * *

Clark pulled on his work gloves and headed over to the 
crates they were expected to load today. He had been living 
in Paramador for the past several months and had to admit 
it was beginning to feel like home. He liked living in 
these third world countries because there tended to be an 
easy acceptance of the supernatural. As a result, his 
inability to keep from intervening when human life was at 
stake was often attributed to the work of angels or other 
supernatural beings. That suited Clark just fine.

Paramador was a small country in South America. Although 
small, it was strategically placed. As a result, it had 
been alternately courted and bullied by the two greatest 
superpowers the world had ever seen - the United States and 
the Soviet Union. In recent years, internal problems had 
caused the breakdown of the Soviet Union, but the remnants 
of the cold war were still very evident in Paramador. 

Clark had to admit Paramador wasn't perfect. There was a 
lot of violence and corruption. The government kept its 
people in line by using secret police and death squads at 
the first sign of dissatisfaction. Still, none of that had 
managed to change Clark's view that people were basically 
good. Even if their government was corrupt, Clark found the 
people amazing. They were poor and often illiterate, but 
Clark found them witty and generous and, in many cases, 
having a wisdom that only comes from living a hard life.

"Where's Roberto?" asked Clark in Spanish as he moved a 
crate. He found that after the past few months of working 
at the docks, it was no longer difficult making lifting the 
crates seem like hard work.

"Haven't you heard?" asked Homberto.

"Heard what?" Clark asked, setting down the crate and 
looking at Homberto.

"Roberto was killed last night."

An expression of pain crossed Clark's face. "He had a wife 
and two kids," he said softly. "What are they going to do 
now?"

Homberto shrugged.

"How did he die?"

"A car accident. Apparently his brake line broke."

"But that doesn't make sense. That car was his baby. It may 
have been old, but he always kept it in perfect condition."

Homberto looked around, making sure they were alone before 
saying, "There is a rumor that it might not have been an 
accident."

"What do you mean?"

"Look, I have a wife and kids too. Besides, I don't know 
anything."

"I won't say anything," Clark assured him.

Homberto studied Clark for a moment before nodding. "Okay, 
but you didn't hear this from me."

"Understood."

Homberto let out a short breath and glanced nervously 
around again before speaking. "Roberto told me the other 
day that there was something suspicious happening here on 
the docks."

"Did he say what?"

Homberto shook his head. "No. He just said that he was 
planning to look into it."

"Is anyone following up on this?"

"I doubt it."

"Why not?"

"You really are new here, aren't you?"

"I guess I am," Clark chuckled.

"The docks are controlled by Emilio Chavez."

"The Minister of State?"

"The same. He's second only to the President. In fact, with 
his business interests, which he refused to give up when he 
took office, some people consider him the most powerful 
person in Paramador - more powerful than even the 
President."

Clark raised his eyebrows.

"What does this have to do with Roberto?" Clark asked.

"Like I said, Chavez is a powerful man," Homberto 
responded. "They say even the President is afraid of him. 
If there is something suspicious happening down here on the 
docks, he probably knows about it. And if Roberto stumbled 
across something..." He shrugged.

"What about the police? Aren't they looking into it?"

"The police are smart enough to know that you don't look 
for trouble with Chavez."

Clark thought about that for a moment. He was upset about 
Roberto's death. If he did die trying to uncover something, 
Clark was determined to find out what it was. "I think I'll 
look into it," Clark said.

"Stay away from this," Homberto warned. "Your American 
passport won't protect you from Chavez."

Clark smiled. "I'll be fine," he assured Homberto.

* * * * * * * * *

"Perry, I've got an idea for a story," said Lois, coming 
into Perry's office.

Perry looked up from the paper he was studying. He had to 
hand it to this young woman. She was in here about once a 
week with an idea for a story. He had never known an 
inexperienced reporter who was more determined to break 
into the big time. Even when he shot down most of her ideas 
or assigned them to people with more experience, she kept 
trying. He had to admit he admired this little spitfire for 
her drive. Even so, he frowned.

"I thought I assigned you a story," he growled.

"Looking into the city council's decision to install 
additional traffic lights? That isn't a story."

"I'm not sure those people who have been in accidents as a 
result of not having lights would agree."

"You know what I mean. Just hear me out, okay?"

Perry let out a short breath. He already knew he would 
listen to her proposal. He might knock down most of her 
ideas, but he didn't want her to stop coming up with them. 
He gestured her to a chair.

"Okay. I got a tip that arms are being sold by a company in 
Metropolis to Paramador. Anyway, I checked it out and it's 
true."

"That doesn't mean there's a story there. Lots of companies 
in Metropolis sell arms to other countries. As long as they 
have the appropriate approvals..."

"I know that. So I checked it out. They do have 
authorization to sell arms to Paramador..."

"Then there's no story."

"But they have the permission to sell the arms to the 
government, not private individuals or other groups."

"What? Are you saying that you have found out that they're 
selling them to someone other than the government?"

"Not exactly. But there is something fishy going on."

"How do you know that?"

"In the past, payment for arms sent to the Paramadorian 
government have been recorded in the public records of the 
company. And they still are. But the information I've 
received indicates that there are more than three times as 
many arms going to Paramador than the payments indicate."

"Couldn't they be accepting credit for the over shipments?" 
Perry asked.

Lois shook her head. "I checked out that possibility. The 
company doesn't normally sell arms on credit to unstable 
governments in third world countries like Paramador. 
There's too much danger of a coup - and if that happens, 
the new government always refuses to honor the debt. So 
it's just too big a risk. Besides, the government of 
Paramador doesn't seem to have financial problems. If they 
were purchasing the arms, they could afford to pay for 
them."

"The government is rich by keeping the people poor," Perry 
murmured in response. "Still, that doesn't prove..."

"So I snuck into the company's head office," Lois 
interrupted. "And I found this," she said, handing Perry a 
document. She gave him a moment to briefly peruse it before 
continuing. "Like I said, the company doesn't normally sell 
arms on credit. But this isn't a normal situation. In this 
case, the NIA is guaranteeing the remaining payments. 
And..." She leaned over and pointed to a spot on the 
documents. "If I'm reading that correctly, the additional 
arms are probably not going to the government. At least, 
why would the government be dealing through a private 
company? Even if it is owned by Emilio Chavez?"

Perry scratched his chin. She was right. The whole thing 
did seem awfully suspicious. Why were these arms being sent 
to Chavez's company instead of directly to the government? 
And why was the American government guaranteeing payment? 
"Did you look into government authorizations for this?" he 
asked. "After all, spending that much money would need 
congressional approval or an executive order from the 
office of the President. Now, grant it, guaranteeing the 
loan isn't exactly spending money, but... Is there anything 
in the public records?"

"There's nothing, Perry," Lois responded immediately. 
"Although it could be an issue of national security, I 
guess."  

"So what are you suggesting?" he asked.

"Okay," said Lois, her excitement increasing at the 
realization that Perry hadn't shot down her story. "I just 
received word from my source. He might have someone in 
Paramador willing to talk to me."

"So give him a call," suggested Perry.

Lois shook her head. "He told me this guy would only talk 
to me in person. He's afraid that the phones might be 
monitored."

"How reliable is your source?" Perry asked.

Lois opened her mouth to tell him that her source was rock 
solid - above reproach - but then stopped. Her source was 
Bud Collins - a clerk for the NIA. She'd met him at a party 
thrown by a mutual friend when she was studying journalism 
at collage.  He was definitely older than her, but they had 
hit it off - spending most of the party in casual 
conversation with each other. She hadn't seen him again 
until he'd contacted her a couple of weeks ago with this 
tip. The reason he'd given was that she was the only 
reporter he knew and that he felt that someone should be 
looking into this situation. But could she really trust 
that he wasn't working his own agenda and using her to do 
it? 

"Actually, this is the first time I've got information from 
this source," she admitted. "He seems 
solid, but..." She shrugged.

Perry smiled. He knew how tempting it must have been to 
deify her source. Yet, she had admitted she really couldn't 
vouch for him. It showed a real maturity. He once again 
congratulated himself for recognizing this young woman had 
real potential when she interviewed with him. Still, it 
would require a trip to Paramador to follow up on this. He 
couldn't justify sending a rookie reporter to Paramador.

"It sounds like you might be on to something," Perry said 
slowly.

"Great! Then when do I go to..."

"Hold your horses," Perry interrupted. "I said you might be 
on to something. But I can't justify sending you to 
Paramador."

"But, Perry..."

"Sorry, Lois, you just don't have the experience to follow 
up on this. I'm going to assign another reporter to look 
into it."

"But it's my story," Lois objected.

Perry studied her. He couldn't send her down to Paramador 
by herself. She just didn't have the experience, but he had 
to admit she had done some good work on this story. "I'll 
tell you what," conceded Perry. "I can't justify you taking 
this yourself. But what I will do is send you down with a 
partner."

"I don't need..."

"It's either that or I just send another reporter."

Lois let out a short breath. She really wanted to get the 
story herself, but at least Perry wasn't cutting her out. 
She nodded.

"Okay, then tell Claude to come in here. I want you to fill 
him in on this."

"I'm going with Claude?" asked Lois. Well, if she had to 
have a partner, she was glad to know it was someone she 
could trust.

Perry studied her for a moment. "May I give you a little 
bit of personal advice?" he asked. When she nodded, he 
continued, "Be careful with Claude. That boy's got a few 
skins under his belt. You could get yourself seriously 
hurt."

Lois smiled. "Don't worry, Perry," she assured him, not 
wanting to confirm his suspicions, but wanting to reassure 
him. "I know how to take care of myself." Perry obviously 
just didn't understand. Claude loved her. His past was 
irrelevant. He loved her and she had been waiting all her 
life to have someone really love her. Until Claude, she 
hadn't believed someone ever would.

* * * * * * * * *

It was dark when Clark looked carefully around to be sure 
no one would see him before floating over the fence into 
the police impound lot. Sticking to the shadows, he made 
his way amongst the various vehicles.

Clark drew in a sharp breath when he finally spotted 
Roberto's car. It was barely recognizable as a car. Making 
certain he was still alone and using a piece of scrap 
material to avoid leaving fingerprints, he reached under 
the car, turned it on its side and found the brake line. 
Running his eyes down the rubber hose, he looked for where 
the line had broken. It didn't take long. Studying the cut, 
he discovered that it was clean - not frayed as one would 
expect if this were an accident. This wasn't the case of a 
broken brake line. This was deliberate.

Suddenly, Clark set the car back down and crouched behind 
it. There was someone in the yard. He watched as the 
security guard did his rounds and left. Letting out a 
breath of relief, he tipped the car back up, pulled a 
polaroid camera out of his pocket and took a number of 
pictures. He considered taking the brake line, but decided 
against it. After all, if Homberto was wrong and the police 
were checking this out, they would need the brake line as 
evidence. 

Okay, so how was he to find out whether the police were 
investigating? Well, surely there had to be some records 
for this car. He used his x-ray vision to look into the 
adjoining building. It was filled with filing cabinets. 
Since everyone had left for the day, the building was 
devoid of people. Making his way over, he tried the door 
and was surprised when it opened.

The filing system appeared to be by date so it didn't take 
Clark long to find the documentation on Roberto's car. A 
quick glance at the documents revealed that the police were 
ruling this an accident. Clark quickly spotted a photocopy 
machine. When he turned it on, it sounded incredibly loud 
in the silent building. He nervously tapped his foot as the 
machine took its time warming up. When the sound changed, 
indicating that the machine was ready, Clark photocopied 
the report. He was just about to leave when he heard 
voices.

"I'm sure I heard something," said a big man in a security 
uniform.

The two men entered the room. They turned on the light and 
looked around. "I don't see anything, Joaquin," the second 
man said.

The first man took another look around before nodding. "I 
guess you're right," said Joaquin. "Come on. Let's get back 
to our card game." With that, he turned out the light and 
the two men left.

Clark floated back down to the floor. That had been close. 
He waited until he was sure it was safe before returning 
the original report to the file cabinet. Sticking his 
pictures of the car and the report in the inside pocket of 
his jacket, he quickly snuck out of the room. He wasn't 
sure what to do now. It was fairly obvious Roberto Perez 
was not the victim of a simple car accident. But it was 
equally obvious that the police were accomplices - at least 
after the fact. So who should he take this to?

* * * * * * * * *

"Are you sure no one else knows what he found out, Pablo?" 
asked Emilio Chavez of the bulky, dark man in front of him 
- the chief of his own personal secret police.

"If they do, they aren't following up. I think Roberto's 
'accident' reminded them who is in charge here."

"And are you sure that he didn't have anything that could 
incriminate us?" Chavez continued.

"The men searched his house when the police took his wife 
to the station to identify his body. He didn't have 
nothing."

"Very good. Keep an eye on the other dock workers though. I 
want to know of any suspicious behavior."

"Yes sir," replied the henchman before making his way to 
the door.

Chavez turned to his other guest - an attractive woman 
obviously of Asian heritage. "Well, Ms. Tart. I guess you 
can tell your boss that things are under control," said 
Chavez.

"I assume you won't mind if I hang around for a few more 
days," Sweet Tart responded coolly. 

"Of course not," replied Chavez, although her presence did 
bother him. After all, it meant she still wasn't satisfied 
the operation was again secure. He would have to keep a 
close eye on Ms. Tart. And the best way to do that was... 
"Do you need accommodations?" he asked. "Because I can 
certainly make those..."

"I can manage," said Tart, rising and heading for the door.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark made a quick flight to the west coast of the States 
in order to find an open bank before returning to Paramador 
to make the required visit to the Perez family. It was 
always hard to know what to say in this type of situation 
that might impart some comfort. Roberto Perez had been the 
sole support of a wife and two children - Dario, aged 
thirteen and Maria, aged seven. Clark knew the family. He 
had eaten supper with them on a few occasions. Although 
poor, they were always willing to share.

The death of Roberto would probably mean Dario would have 
to drop out of school to support the family. Roberto had 
insisted his son get an education - even though it was 
financially draining. Working at the docks brought in no 
more than fifty American dollars a month. Things were much 
cheaper in Paramador; still, it was not a lot of money upon 
which to live. Without that income, it was entirely 
conceivable that the family could starve. Clark was well 
aware of that simple, and horrible, fact. 

As well as making sure Roberto's death had meaning, Clark 
wasn't about to let his family starve or have his son quit 
school in order to support the family - not when Roberto 
had struggled so hard to give his son an education. Most 
children in Paramador quit going to school after six years. 
Roberto often told Clark how determined he was to have his 
son graduate from high school.

Clark knocked on the door of the very modest home. An older 
woman answered the door. "Is Lidia here?" asked Clark.

The obviously grief-stricken woman nodded and gestured 
Clark in. "Are you Roberto's mother?" Clark asked.

The woman nodded.

"I'm very sorry about your loss," Clark said softly, taking 
one of her hands in both of his.

"Thank you," said the woman. "How did you know Roberto?"

"We worked together," Clark informed her.

She nodded. "He was a good boy," his mother told Clark.

"Yes, he was," Clark confirmed.

She searched Clark's eyes before saying, "So are you. Come. 
Lidia is in here." With that she withdrew her hand from his 
and led the way to an adjoining room.

Lidia got up when Clark entered. He made his way over and 
kissed her on the cheek. "I'm so sorry, Lidia," Clark said.

Lidia gave him a sad smile, gesturing him to a seat before 
taking one herself. "It's so hard to believe he's gone. I 
keep expecting someone to wake me up and tell me I'm 
dreaming. But I guess that's not going to happen." She 
wiped away a tear that had slipped down her cheek. "Can I 
get you something?" she suddenly asked, rising as if she 
would serve him.

Clark rose. "No. I'm fine. Please, just sit. I just stopped 
by to give my condolences and..." Clark fished in his 
pocket before removing an envelope. "The men at the docks 
took up a collection," Clark fibbed. He knew the men at the 
docks barely had enough to support their own families. 
Instead, he had emptied his own savings account, but he 
didn't want her to feel indebted to him. "We want you to 
have this. We all agree that Dario should stay in school."

Lidia took a quick look in the envelope before bursting 
into tears. "Thank you," she said between sobs.

Clark smiled. Her reaction was certainly reward enough for 
him. Of course, she had to show Roberto's mother who also 
needed to thank him. This was followed by thank yous from 
the kids. By the time they were prepared to let it go, 
Clark was thoroughly embarrassed.

"I also wanted to ask you if the police have been here," 
said Clark, when they had finally finished expressing their 
gratitude.

"Of course. They were the ones who told me about the 
accident. Why?"

"Did they suggest that it might not have been an accident?"



"No. Why? Who would want to kill my Roberto?"

"I was hoping you might be able to tell me."

"Roberto didn't have any enemies," said Roberto's mother. 
She then looked at her daughter-in-law who was considering 
the question thoughtfully. "What is it, Lidia?" she finally 
asked.

"It's just... Well, Roberto brought some papers home the 
other day. He seemed nervous about something. And then this 
morning, when the police took us down to the station to..." 
She shook her head slightly.

"What happened?" Clark asked.

"When we got back, it was obvious that someone had searched 
the place."

"Did they get the papers?" asked Clark.

"I don't know," Lidia admitted before getting up, moving 
the rug on the floor and pulling up a floorboard. A moment 
later she was withdrawing a number of papers. "You think he 
might have been killed for these?" she asked, handing the 
papers to Clark.

"I really don't know. But I promise you, if he was I'll do 
everything I can to find out. Do you know where he got 
these?"

Lidia shook her head. "He probably didn't want me to know. 
You know Roberto. He was always trying to protect me."

Clark smiled. "He loved you, Lidia," he told her. Lidia's 
wobbly smile told him that she already knew that.

* * * * * * * * *

"I don't like this, Claude," said Lois. 

"What's not to like?" asked Claude. "Why shouldn't we share 
a room?"

"We agreed to keep our relationship out of the newsroom. If 
we only have one room on our expense account..."

Claude kissed her hand. "Don't you think people already 
have their suspicions?" he asked.

"There's a big difference between suspecting and knowing. 
And if our expense account only shows one room..."

"Okay, okay," interrupted Claude. "Why don't we get 
adjoining rooms?" suggested Claude.

"Thank you for understanding, Claude."

"Don't worry about it, cherie. The boys in accounting at 
the Daily Planet won't have a clue that we only slept in 
one of them," Claude assured her.

At the far end of the counter in the Grand Hotel, Sweet 
Tart perked up at the mention of the Daily Planet. What 
were they doing here?

Once they were gone, she pulled out a cell phone. She 
placed a long distance phone call. The phone only rang a 
couple of time before a man picked up.

"Trevanian?" asked Sweet Tart.

"So what have you found?" Trevanian demanded.

"I think we may have a problem. There are a couple of 
reporters down here from the Daily Planet."

"Do they know anything?"

"I don't know. But what else could be big enough to justify 
the Planet sending people to Paramador?"

"True. Find out if they know anything. If they do, you know 
what to do."

Sweet Tart smiled. "Why must violence always be the 
answer?" she asked in mock seriousness.

Trevanian chuckled in response. He knew that violence was 
her favorite way to deal with any problem. She seemed to 
enjoy the adrenaline rush.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark waited until he arrived back at his apartment before 
looking at the papers Lidia Perez had given him. As he 
sipped a cup of tea, he studied the documents with growing 
disbelief. He could hardly believe what Roberto had managed 
to dig up. It was no wonder Emilio Chavez had wanted him 
dead.

It seemed arms were being purchased, not by the government 
of Paramador, but by Chavez himself - although there was no 
indication in the documents as to why Chavez needed such 
heavy artillery. However, instead of paying for them with 
cash, he was sending heroin back for sale in America. From 
the documents, Clark was able to discern that the value of 
the drugs greatly exceeded the value of the guns - which 
indicated that someone in America was getting very rich off 
this particular transaction. 

Clark had no idea what to do now. He remembered Homberto's 
comments that even the police knew not to buy trouble with 
Chavez. If Chavez were really as powerful as Homberto 
claimed, there was probably no point in taking the 
information to the local authorities. He stuck all the 
papers, along with the proof regarding Roberto's car, back 
in the inside pocket of his jacket. Until he decided what 
to do with the information, it was probably best if he kept 
it on his person. After all, since no one could hurt him, 
it was safer with him than anywhere else. And Clark would 
find a way to bring this to light. Roberto had risked - and 
lost - his life because he felt this was simply too 
important to ignore. Clark was determined to ensure his 
death was not in vain.

* * * * * * * * *

"We shouldn't have made love last night, Claude," Lois said 
quietly to Claude as they sat in the back of the cab the 
next morning. Although they had already established that 
the cabby didn't speak English, she whispered out of habit.

"Relax, cherie," responded Claude. "Once without protection 
isn't going to make any difference. Neither of us are HIV 
positive. So there's no danger."

"What about pregnancy or other diseases?" Lois responded.

Claude laughed. "You worry too much. Besides, wasn't it so 
much better without a condom? I don't understand why you 
won't go on the pill. If you don't want to get pregnant 
then I think it's up to you to take precautions. I forgot 
to bring protection, but I don't know why it's my 
responsibility, anyway."

Lois let out a short breath. "Claude...

"We're here," Claude interrupted, digging into his wallet 
to find some money to pay the cabby.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark was still thinking about his dilemma while piling 
crates on the docks. He was brought back to his 
surroundings by the sound of a woman trying to talk to 
Homberto in broken Spanish. As the conversation progressed, 
both people raised their voices, as if by speaking louder, 
they could somehow make the other person understand. 

Clark glanced in the direction of the voices and saw a man 
and woman talking to Homberto. Figuring they could use some 
help, Clark made his way over to the group.

"Can I help?" Clark asked Homberto in Spanish.

"My friend," Homberto replied in relief. "I think they want 
to know about Roberto. I tried to tell them that he's dead, 
but they don't understand."

Clark was instantly suspicious. Why would Americans be here 
looking for Roberto? And from their accents, it was fairly 
obvious they were Americans. Clark could only think of one 
reason. He turned towards the Americans.

"I'm Clark Kent. Is there something I can do for you?" 
Clark asked in English, looking directly at the man and 
woman for the first time.

"Finally," breathed the woman in relief. "We are trying to 
find Roberto Perez. He's the relative of a friend of ours 
in Metropolis, and while we're in Paramador on our 
vacation, we promised to look him up. But neither of us 
speak Spanish very well and so..." The woman gestured 
helplessly.

Clark had only caught the first word. The rest of the words 
had no real meaning as he stared into the woman's eyes for 
the first time. Afterwards, he couldn't say exactly what it 
was about her eyes that captivated him. All he knew for 
sure was that she touched something in him.

"Are you all right?" the woman asked, looking at him oddly.

Her question finally managed to penetrate Clark's mind. He 
quickly diverted his eyes, realizing that he had been 
staring. "Umm... yeah," he said. "I guess... It's just been 
a long time since I've heard English. I guess... What did 
you want again?"

The woman let out a short breath. "I said, we're in 
Paramador on vacation and a friend from Metropolis told us 
to give Roberto Perez a call while we're here. We 
understood that he works at the docks."

"Umm... yeah, he did," Clark replied. He knew he wasn't 
being very helpful, but he still seemed to be having some 
problems making his brain work. Maybe it had just been a 
long time since he'd been in the presence of a woman who 
had the money to spend on perfumed shampoo and soap, but 
she smelled incredible. It was a little bit intoxicating - 
oh, heck, it was incredibly intoxicating. He reminded 
himself to be careful. After all, it was quite a 
coincidence she should be here from America asking about 
Roberto right now. Surely if she was working for Chavez, 
she would already know Roberto was dead. No. She probably 
was just in town on... They.... Clark looked at the man 
with her and felt his skin bristle. They were probably just 
in town on vacation as she had said.

"What do you mean, 'he did'? Doesn't he work here anymore?" 
the woman asked.

"I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this," said 
Clark. "But Roberto was killed a couple of nights ago in a 
car accident."

"What?" gasped the woman.

"There is a vigil for him tonight at the bar on the corner 
of Rio de la Loza and San Antonio if you're interested," 
Clark said softly.

"Actually, we'd like to pay a visit to his family," said 
the man.

Clark regarded the man for a moment, trying to get the 
woman out of his mind long enough to think about this 
objectively.

"I could give you their address," Clark finally said. After 
all, that was information Chavez would have anyway. No. The 
more he thought about their questions, the less likely it 
was that these people were working for Chavez. They 
probably were tourists, just as they had said. And he 
seemed to recall Roberto mentioning a cousin he had in 
America. What was his name? Bud... Bud something. He 
couldn't remember a last name.

"We'd appreciate that," said the man, moving towards the 
woman in what Clark immediately recognized as a possessive 
gesture. He was obviously notifying Clark that the woman 
belonged to him. Clark glanced at the woman. She seemed 
uncomfortable with the man's unspoken signal. No. The man 
might think she belonged to him, but Clark doubted this 
woman could belong to anyone. He took a quick look at her 
left hand and, for some reason, was relieved to see it bore 
no rings.

Clark forced his mind back to the current request. He gave 
the couple the address and watched as they left. As they 
disappeared from view, Clark was brought back to reality by 
Homberto's hand on his shoulder.

"She is a beautiful woman, isn't she?" asked Homberto.

"Who?" asked Clark.

Homberto roared with laughter before walking away.

"I wasn't that obvious," Clark muttered, looking back at 
the spot where he had last seen the woman. It suddenly 
occurred to him he didn't even know her name. And beyond 
that, he found himself wondering where his head was. He 
didn't think he'd told them anything of any significance. 
But... He shook his head. What had he been thinking? He 
snorted. He'd been thinking how amazing that woman was.

* * * * * * * * *

Claude and Lois grabbed a cab and made their way to the 
address Kent had given them. As they did, Lois made notes 
about what they had learned so far. Claude shook his head. 

"Kent didn't tell us anything that was important enough to 
write down," he scoffed.

"I like to write down everything," Lois said in her own 
defense.

"You liked him, didn't you?" Claude had definitely noticed 
the way Kent had reacted to Lois, but had been unable to 
read Lois' reaction to him.

"Who?" Lois asked innocently. 

"Clark Kent," Claude said.

"He seemed okay," Lois replied dismissively, obviously 
having no intention of discussing the man on the docks with 
Claude. "Anyway, what exactly do you make of Perez's 
death?"

Claude shrugged. "I would guess that someone realized that 
he knew what was going on and that he was about to expose 
it. On the other hand, it could have just been an 
accident."

Before Lois could respond, the cab pulled to a stop. Claude 
handed the cabby some money. They got out, making their way 
in silence to the front door. 

* * * * * * * * *

"Where did you take them?" Tart asked the cabby.

"Where someone goes is their business, senorita," responded 
the cabby.

Tart produced an American ten dollar bill. In a country 
where fifty American dollars was a monthly income for a 
dock worker, ten dollars was a lot of money. The cabby took 
the money and gave her the address.

* * * * * * * * *

As Lois noticed the relative poverty around her while 
stepping up to the front door of what purported to be the 
Perez home, she was struck with how fortunate she was to be 
an American. She wondered briefly what type of social 
security net was available in Paramador - probably there 
was none. That meant the death of the breadwinner would be 
a tremendous blow to this family - not only from an 
emotional standpoint, but for simple survival.

They knocked on the door and an older woman answered.

"Mrs. Perez?" Lois asked.

The woman simply continued to look at them. 

"Do you speak English?" Lois asked.

The woman shook her head and gestured them inside before 
calling for someone. When a boy showed up, she spoke 
briefly to him in Spanish before the boy turned to their 
visitors.

"My grandmother say you American?" the boy asked in 
English.

Lois breathed a sigh of relief. She was really going to 
have to work on her Spanish when she got back to 
Metropolis. Her reading was flawless; it was actually 
speaking and understanding that was causing her problems. 
If only people wouldn't talk so fast...

"Yes, we are," said Lois. "Are you Roberto's son?"

"Si."

"Is this your mother?"

"No, senorita. This my grandmother."

"We were hoping to talk to your mother."

The boy translated the request to the older woman, who 
studied the people at the door for a moment more. Lois 
watched her curiously while she seemed to try to decide 
whether their request was to be granted. Finally, she spoke 
to the boy, who immediately nodded and left. When he came 
back, there was a younger woman with him.

"This my mother," the boy informed them.

"Mrs. Perez," Claude said in his most charming voice, 
taking the woman's hand in his own and raising it to his 
lips. Lois recognized the voice. It was the one he used 
when he was trying to charm her into something. "I am very 
pleased to meet you."

To Lois' fascination, his comment and action provoked a 
stream of Spanish from the older woman followed by the 
younger woman's withdrawal of her hand. From what Lois 
could discern, the older woman was suspicious of Claude. 
Still, they were gestured inside. It wasn't until they were 
seated that they again spoke, the boy acting as an 
interpreter.

"We were sorry to hear about your husband," Lois said.

Lidia nodded in response to their condolences.

"I believe you have a relative in America," Lois said. "Her 
husband suggested that we look Roberto Perez up if we were 
in Paramador."

"Cousin married American. She dies couple years ago," Lidia 
informed them through Dario. "Her husband has important job 
in America."

Lois nodded although personally she didn't think working 
for the NIA was an extremely important job - especially 
given the fact that Bud was merely a clerk. However, she 
had no intention of disillusioning the woman before her. 
And Bud Collins was the one who had put her on to this 
story in the first place.

"Yes, he does. He seemed to think your husband might have 
some information for us."

The woman didn't respond immediately. Instead she studied 
Claude.

"Do you know what he might have wanted to talk to us 
about?" Lois finally asked.

As Lois' last question was interpreted, Lidia's attention 
returned to Lois. She seemed to consider the question for a 
moment more, as if trying to reach some sort of decision. 
Lois moved closer to the edge of her chair as she watched. 
The woman knew something. Lois was sure of that. The 
question was whether the woman would tell them.

"I does not know," Lidia finally responded.

"Mrs. Perez," Lois immediately responded, "please. Claude 
and I work for a newspaper called the Daily Planet. It's 
one of the most respected newspapers in the world. Bud 
contacted me because he believed that your husband had some 
important information for me. I think that information 
might have been the reason your husband was killed. I'd 
like to make sure that he didn't die in vain." When Lidia 
still didn't answer, Lois continued. "If your husband 
thought this information was important enough to contact 
Bud, don't you think he'd want you to tell us?"

Lidia glanced over at her mother-in-law. Lois followed her 
gaze. She tried unsuccessfully to read whatever unspoken 
communication that was taking place between the two women.

"My mother know nothing," Dario finally interpreted her 
mother's words.

Lois looked over at the older woman again. When she noticed 
the woman looking at Claude, she had a sudden idea. 

"Claude, would you mind waiting outside?" she asked. When 
Claude looked as if he was about to object, she gave him a 
look of warning. She was almost surprised when Claude 
nodded and rose to his feet. She waited until Claude was 
out of the house before turning back to Lidia.

"Please," she said. "This is really important. 

Lidia looked again at her mother-in-law. This time the 
older woman nodded. When she did, Lois redirected her 
attention to Lidia. Still, it was quite some time before 
Lidia continued. Dario translated when she had finished. 
"Mother really don't know. But you could try talking to 
Clark Kent. He here yesterday and took documents Father 
brought home."

"Do you know what was in the documents?" she asked.

Lidia shook her head before speaking. "You ask Clark," 
Dario translated. "He a good man. He do right thing. He 
give us fifteen hundred American dollars. He say it from 
men at docks. But no such collection. He gave it us from 
him. Now, me can to stay in school. He a good man."

Lois nodded. "Well, thank you for your time, Mrs. Perez," 
she said, rising.

Dario led Lois back to the door. As she was about to leave, 
the older woman took Lois' arm and led her a little ways 
away. She whispered intently to her in Spanish. Lois looked 
at Dario when the woman had finished.

Dario said, "She warning you to be careful of your young 
man. She says he has dark heart." When Lois just looked 
confused, Dario took the liberty to explain. "My 
grandmother has gift of looking into people's hearts. She 
say you can to talk my mother because she say you have good 
heart - you just little scared."

"Scared?"

"Of life," Dario explained. "But she say your young man has 
dark heart."

Lois smiled. "He's just a little hard to get to know," Lois 
said in defense of Claude.

The older woman responded immediately in Spanish without 
waiting for Dario to interpret the last statement. Dario 
smiled.

"What did she say?" asked Lois.

"She say that she knew you not willing to see. You want to 
believe he love you."

This conversation was suddenly hitting a little too close 
to home. There was something about the woman's last comment 
that completely unnerved Lois. She tried to slough it off 
and smile, but she knew her smile was somewhat wobbly. She 
said good-bye and quickly made her way to the door.

When she stepped outside, Lois withdrew her wallet, handing 
twenty dollars to Dario.

"What this?" asked Dario.

"You acted as our translator," said Lois. "This is your 
fee."

"This too much," said Dario, holding the bill up for Lois 
to take back.

Lois shook her head, refusing to take the money. "In 
America, that would be what I'd expect to pay for the job 
you did."

Dario looked at the money in contemplation before saying, 
"Gracias."

"Gracias," responded Lois.

"That was too much money to give the kid," Claude said when 
she finally reached him.

Lois didn't respond, but after the woman's comments about 
Claude, his remark bothered her - she couldn't exactly say 
why.

"So what did you find out?" Claude asked as they walked 
away.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois had managed to fill Claude in on the information she'd 
received from Lidia by the time they arrived back at the 
Grand Hotel. They returned to their room to discuss 
strategy.

"I've been thinking about this Clark Kent," said Claude 
once they were inside.

"You think we should talk to him?" Lois asked.

Claude was silent for a moment. "I'm not sure the direct 
approach is the best way."

"Why not?"

"Think about it, Lois. He shows up after Roberto's death 
and gets the documents that Roberto had gathered together. 
From talking to him, it seems that he's an American. How do 
we know he isn't involved?"

Lois thought about that. "Well, surely he wouldn't have 
given Lidia Perez money if he were involved in her 
husband's death."

"That's exactly what makes me the most suspicious of him."

"How's that?"

"Fifteen hundred dollars is a small fortune in Paramador. 
How would a man who probably makes forty dollars a month 
working on the docks come up with that kind of money? If he 
had that, why work?"

"Maybe he just likes working."

"And if he had fifteen hundred dollars to just give away, 
that must mean that he has a lot more money. No. If he has 
that much spare money, he must be in on this. The money was 
probably a payoff - something to divert attention away from 
his involvement."

Lois let out a breath before nodding. He was probably 
right. "So, what do you suggest?"

"Well, he seemed smitten with you," he said.

She looked at him in disbelief. "What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that we do whatever is necessary to get the 
story. From what we have learned so far, I'd say this could 
be a huge story. I'm suggesting that we use all our 
assets."

"Is that what I am to you? An asset?" Lois demanded, her 
anger rising in direct proportion to the pain his 
suggestion was causing.

"Of course not, cherie. All I'm saying is that given his 
obvious attraction to you, we may have a way to get 
whatever information he has."

"You're not suggesting that I sleep with this guy to find 
out what he knows?" The question was only asked in partial 
seriousness - taking his suggestion to the extreme in an 
effort to make a point.

"Not unless you have to."

"Unless I have to!" Lois gasped, unable to believe that not 
only hadn't he flinched at her bizarre suggestion, but 
actually regarded it as an option.  "Look, Claude, I will 
not sleep with some guy just to get a story."

"You have to give up this Victorian attitude of yours if 
you want to win the Pulitzer. Do you think I'd think twice 
about sleeping with a woman to get a story? Besides, you 
might not have to sleep with him. You may be able to get 
the information out of him just by flirting with him."

"I won't do it," objected Lois.

"Then you will never be a great reporter."

"I refuse to believe..."

"Grow up, Lois. You're an attractive woman. Learn to take 
advantage of that fact. Otherwise you will never be more 
than just another one of hundreds of mediocre reporters."

Lois just stared at him. She could hardly believe Claude 
would suggest this. He was supposed to love her. Surely if 
that were true, he would never suggest she sleep with some 
guy just to get a story. And what did he mean, he wouldn't 
think twice about sleeping with another woman to get a 
story? She involuntarily shivered. 

"I won't sleep with him," Lois reiterated. "But if you want 
me to flirt, I'll flirt," she said before turning and 
storming from the room, not wanting Claude to see the tears 
in her eyes.

* * * * * * * * *

Claude smiled when he heard the door to his room slam shut. 
He was confident he'd made his point. He wanted this story. 
His years of experience working as a reporter told him this 
was big. He was sure she'd be able to get whatever 
information Kent had. After all, Clark Kent had looked like 
a deer in the headlights the instant he'd looked at Lois. 
If anyone could get the information from him, she could. 
Besides, he didn't believe she'd go the distance and 
actually sleep with Kent - and putting her in a position 
where she was willing to sleep with someone else might make 
it easier if she learned that he was currently working on 
getting a new correspondent at LNN, Linda King, into bed - 
after all, he could always use the excuse that he wanted to 
know what stories LNN was pursuing.

Claude liked having Lois Lane as his girlfriend. She was 
ambitious and he hoped to be able to make mileage on her 
ambition without exerting the energy required to be a top 
reporter. It was certainly working in this case and he 
suspected it would in the future, too. However, Claude had 
a weakness for the chase. And now that he had Lois Lane, he 
had to see what other territory he could conquer.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois sat in the dark in the back of the cab as it made its 
way to the corner of Rio de la Loza and San Antonio where 
Kent had told them a vigil for Roberto was being held. 
Since she didn't know Kent's address, this was her best bet 
for finding him after hours. Even if he wasn't there, 
someone would probably know where he was.

Claude hadn't come with her. He had insisted that Kent was 
more likely to open up if he wasn't around. Personally, 
Lois was glad Claude wouldn't be there, critiquing her 
performance.

She had spent the past few hours thinking about her 
discussion with Claude. She knew there was no way she could 
sleep with a man just to get a story. That wasn't even a 
consideration. After all, the only man she'd ever been with 
was Claude. However, the very fact that Claude would 
suggest such a thing told her without a doubt that she had 
misjudged him. He didn't love her. He couldn't if he could 
even suggest something like that. It was amazing how once 
that realization finally sunk in so many of the things that 
had happened over the past few months suddenly looked so 
different.

She thought about the comments made by Perry. He was right. 
So was the woman who had warned her that Claude had a dark 
heart. Even the first time they'd made love looked 
different somehow - almost as if he had been pressuring her 
to sleep with him instead of a sincere need to know that 
she loved him. 

Lois felt like such a fool. She was so anxious to be loved 
she had refused to see what had been in front of her eyes 
all along. 

That didn't stop her from grieving for the death of a 
dream. There might not have been anything substantial 
behind the dream, but that didn't make the dream less real. 
She had finally felt as if she wasn't alone in the world. 
That made the feeling of isolation that much worse now. She 
didn't think she'd ever felt quite this lost before.

Clark Kent. She dragged her mind back to the subject at 
hand. What she needed to do was to find out where he had 
put the documents Lidia had given him. If they still 
existed, they were probably at his house or apartment. So 
once she knew where he lived, she could excuse herself and 
go to search his place. She could do that.

Her mind drifted back to her encounter with Kent on the 
docks this morning. Claude was right about one thing - Kent 
had seemed completely off balance the moment their eyes 
met. And although she would never admit this to Claude, 
especially now, she had felt something, too. His hair might 
have needed a trim and his clothing might have been sloppy, 
but there was something about his eyes... She quickly shook 
the thought off. After Claude's comments, she was not about 
to think about Kent that way.

* * * * * * * * *

Sweet Tart was pleased to see the reporter she had 
discovered was Lois Lane leave the Grand Hotel alone. It 
was obvious from their trip to Perez's residence this 
afternoon that the reporters were indeed here to look into 
the shipment of arms to Paramador. If not, it was certainly 
an amazing coincidence that they were down at the docks and 
talking to the family of the man who Chavez had had killed.

When Tart saw Lane leave the hotel alone, she realized that 
now was her chance to get rid of one of them. She was 
certainly willing to deal with both reporters together - 
they were only reporters after all. However, dealing with 
them separately was certainly going to be easier. She would 
make Ms. Lane's untimely death look like a mugging. As for 
the other one... Well, Paramador was a dangerous place. 
Maybe she'd make it look as if he'd run into some problems 
with Paramador's secret police. Tart climbed into her 
rental car and followed the cab.

When the cab arrived across the street from the bar, Tart 
quickly parked and got out of her car. There was only one 
place Lane could be going - the bar. She was pleased when 
Lois Lane delayed getting out of the cab. It allowed Tart 
to get into position, in the shadows of an alley near the 
bar. Lane would have to walk past it. As long as no one 
else decided to go into the bar at the same time, dragging 
her into the alley and killing her should not be difficult. 
She pulled a knife with a six inch blade from its sheath as 
she prepared for the encounter.

* * * * * * * * *

"Is this the place?" asked the cabby in English when Lois 
didn't get out.

"Is this the corner of Rio de la Loza and San Antonio?" 
Lois asked in response.

"Si."

"Then this is the place," said Lois.

There was a moment of silence. The cabby turned around and 
looked at Lois when she still didn't get out. "Are you sure 
this is where you want to go? Or maybe I could take you 
somewhere else?"

Lois looked at him before shaking her head. She was not 
looking forward to talking to Kent - not after Claude's 
suggestion. Had she been left to her own devices, she would 
probably have decided that flirting with Kent was the way 
to go. However, given Claude's comments, the whole thing 
had taken on a sleazier feeling. She took a deep breath 
before reaching into her purse and pulling out the money to 
pay the cabby.

She got out of the car and watched the cabby drive off 
before starting across the street to enter the bar.

Lois never saw who grabbed her from behind. She 
instinctively began to struggle, but the feel of cold steel 
at her neck ended all movement instantly. 

"Back up slowly," came a woman's voice.

Lois did as instructed and soon she was in the shadows of 
the alley.

"What do you want?" Lois asked. She had to get this person 
talking. From this position, there was no possibility of 
escape. She needed to stay alive long enough for the woman 
to relax her grip and then... she'd make a move.

"You really should learn not to stick your nose in where it 
doesn't belong," the woman responded.

"Look, I'm sure we can work something out here. I have 
money," said Lois, moving her hand down to her purse. As 
she did, the knife slipped off her neck. Lois reacted 
immediately, spinning around and out of the woman's grasp. 
However, the attacker's reactions were quicker than Lois 
had anticipated. The knife caught Lois  along her jaw line. 
The adrenalin was pumping through Lois' system to such an 
extent that Lois hardly noticed the pain. Her foot came up 
and landed hard into the attacker's stomach. When the 
attacker fell back, Lois turned to make a dash for the door 
of the bar.

Lois' move obviously caught the woman off guard, but it 
only took a moment for her attacker to regain her footing. 
Lois' hand had just landed on the door when she felt an arm 
wrapped around her neck from behind. Lois clawed at the arm 
as it cut off her oxygen. It was only a moment before the 
darkness descended on Lois' mind. 

* * * * * * * * *

Trevanian was pacing nervously as he waited to hear from 
Sweet Tart. He usually took these things in stride. After 
all he was the deputy director of the NIA - the National 
Intelligence Agency. So he had been through a lot of tense 
situations. However, this one was different - this time he 
was on the line personally.

He wondered exactly how he was going to cover his butt if 
the NIA's involvement in shipping arms to Chavez - 
especially when the arms were being paid for by drug 
shipments - ever came out. How was it that people could be 
so short sighted? The important thing here was to ensure 
the loyalty of the Paramador government - no matter who 
might be in charge of it. And this transaction ensured 
exactly that.

It had become obvious to Trevanian that Chavez was 
maneuvering himself into position to take over the 
government in some sort of coup. When Chavez had made 
overtures to the Russians for arms, Trevanian had stepped 
in. A communist take over in Paramador was unacceptable. 
When he'd approached his superiors to support Chavez, they 
had refused to see the big picture, too - talking about 
Russia now being America's friend and other such nonsense. 
So he'd come up with the plan of buying arms with drug 
money. And it had worked beautifully. His government would 
have a friend in the country of Paramador, no matter who 
won the power struggle. Officially, the U.S. was supporting 
the current government, and unofficially... Trevanian 
smiled. Besides, his enterprise was bringing a lot of extra 
money into the NIA coffers - money which could be used for 
other covert NIA operations, money that would be available 
to them without worrying about that pesky little detail 
known as congressional approval. 

His smile faded as he thought about his current concern. 
Two Daily Planet reporters were looking into the situation 
in Paramador. He wondered again if his butt was covered if 
it ever came out what he had been doing.

* * * * * * * * *

Tart pulled her unconscious victim back into the shadows 
before looking around for her knife. It only took her a 
moment to find it. Leaving Lane on the ground, she grabbed 
the knife and turned to finish the job. That was when she 
saw him. Like a phantom out of the night, he crossed the 
street faster than she would have believed possible.

She turned towards him immediately. It seemed she was going 
to have to kill more than one person here. If it hadn't 
been for Lane's almost successful effort to get away, this 
would not have been necessary. Not that Tart had any 
problem killing someone else. It was just frustrating to 
realize that she could already be on her way to take care 
of the other reporter. 

She dove at the man approaching, but somehow he sidestepped 
her. It only took her a moment to regain her footing. She 
spun around. The man was still standing there, facing her. 
He had adopted a somewhat defensive stance, although it was 
obvious he didn't have much combat training. She smiled 
slightly. She lunged forward again, but then pulled herself 
up short in order to direct a foot into the man's stomach. 
She gave a cry of pain and collapsed to the ground when her 
foot connected with its target.

* * * * * * * * *

Realizing that his attacker was no longer a threat, Clark 
quickly made his way over to the person who was lying on 
the ground. 

"Senorita?" Clark asked. When she didn't respond, he 
listened carefully and was relieved to hear a pulse. He 
felt movement behind him and turned, expecting to see the 
woman attacking again. When he saw her limping away, he 
briefly considered going after her. However, concern for 
the woman lying unconscious on the ground stopped him.

He quickly x-rayed the woman, looking for broken bones. 
When he found none, he slowly rolled her over. She groaned 
briefly before coughing herself to consciousness.

Clark pulled in a sharp breath when he recognized her. It 
was the woman who'd been on the docks this morning. He 
moved to support her as she attempted to sit up. When she 
tried to stand, he stopped her.

"Give yourself a moment," Clark said. "You've been out for 
a couple of minutes. And that cut on your face has bled 
quite a bit."

"Cut?" asked Lois, her hand instinctively going to her face 
and finding the exact spot of her injury. She pulled her 
hand away and looked at the blood on it. Clark pulled a 
handkerchief out of his pocket. Taking it, she placed it 
over the cut to stop the bleeding. She let out a short 
breath. "I've got to..." she said, struggling to rise. When 
she stumbled backwards, Clark reached out and steadied her. 
"I feel a little dizzy," she confessed.

"Do you want to..."

"Where's the woman?" Lois interrupted, remembering what had 
happened.

"She's gone. I'm sorry. I would have stopped her, but..." 
He shrugged.

* * * * * * * * *

It took Lois some time to get her bearings. She hadn't 
realized she was hurt until he'd mentioned her being cut. 
On the other hand, as soon as he had, her hand had gone to 
the exact spot.  Her injuries were suddenly forgotten when 
Lois realized who she was talking to. "You're Clark Kent," 
she said. "The man I met down on the docks."

"That's right. Do you want me to take you to a hospital?" 
When Lois shook her head, he continued, "Well, my place is 
only a couple of blocks away if you want me to see what I 
can do about that cut."

"Umm..." Lois was about to decline but then caught herself. 
Finding out where he lived was her main objective here, 
after all. For all she knew, he was in on it with the 
woman, but if they hadn't killed her yet, they probably 
didn't intend to for the time being. Maybe if she went 
along with his suggestion, she would find out more about 
this story. All they knew at the moment was that their 
source had died and Clark Kent had some documents from that 
source - documents that might help them get the story. 
"That would be great," she finally said.

"Can you walk or would you prefer I carry you?" he asked 
hesitantly.

"I'll walk," Lois responded immediately as the instructions 
Claude had given her came back. There was no way she 
intended to let Clark Kent carry her. Suddenly, she 
shivered. 

"Here," said Clark, immediately taking off his jacket and 
helping her slip it on before coming around to the front to 
help her do it up.

Lois watched him curiously. It was hard to believe Claude's 
theory about this man while watching the care with which he 
was attending her. Still, he must be involved. Why else 
would he have gotten the papers from the Perez family? 
Unless the papers he had received had nothing to do with 
the tip Lois had gotten from Bud. She supposed that was a 
possibility. 

She stuck her free hand in the pocket of the jacket. The 
action caused the jacket to move against her. It was then 
that she felt it. There were obviously papers in the inside 
pocket, but surely he wouldn't be so careless as to keep 
the papers on him? Would he? Wasn't that another sign that 
the papers were not connected to the story. For a reason 
she couldn't quite name, she almost hoped they were wrong 
about Clark Kent's involvement in this story. She staggered 
slightly - still reeling from the after effects of the 
attack.

"Can I help?" Clark asked, offering Lois his arm.

Lois forced her mind to concentrate on his question. Help. 
"Umm... Thanks," she said, slipping her arm around his. She 
really was feeling dizzy. The support of his arm would 
definitely help.

They slowly walked the short distance to his apartment. 
Once there, Clark helped her settle on the couch before 
informing her that he didn't have any first aid supplies. 
He made his way back to the door telling her to make 
herself comfortable - that he'd be back in a few minutes.


The second he was gone, she removed the handkerchief from 
her face to discover that the bleeding had stopped. She set 
the handkerchief on the coffee table before unzipping the 
jacket, reaching into the inside pocket and withdrawing the 
papers located there. As she studied them, she gasped. It 
was obvious they were exactly what they were looking for. 
More than that, they were a gold mine. Chavez wasn't only 
having weapons shipped to his personal company, but he was 
using drugs to purchase them. These documents proved that. 
And given the NIA's guarantee of payment, they must be 
involved in this up to their earlobes. This was the type of 
story that toppled governments and impeached presidents! 
This was Pulitzer prize winning material!

She also noticed a report about Roberto Perez's accident 
and a number of pictures of what appeared to be a mangled 
car. She wasn't entirely certain what the pictures proved, 
but she folded them in with the papers and stuck them in 
her purse as well. She'd figure it all out later.

Okay, so now all she had to do was get out of here and... 
Suddenly, she thought about the woman who'd attacked her. 
The woman knew what Lois was looking into - that was fairly 
obvious. What if they knew about Claude, too? And although 
after his comments today, she didn't like Claude much at 
the moment, she didn't want to see him dead - unless, of 
course, she had the privilege of doing it with her own two 
hands. She quickly got up, stumbling slightly from the 
sudden movement. When she had steadied herself, she made 
her way to the phone and dialed the Grand Hotel. She let 
out a relieved breath when Claude answered his phone.

"Claude," she said.

"Did you get the information?" Claude immediately asked.

She felt an immediate pain in her chest - that really was 
all he cared about. "Yes. I got the information. But I was 
attacked tonight. They seemed to know what we're 
investigating. You need to get out of the hotel now."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure," Lois responded impatiently.


"Okay, I'll go to the Regency and get us a room there."

"Two rooms," she corrected.

"Cherie, get serious. If there is someone after us, we 
should be together."

"I want my own room, Claude. And don't register in our 
names."

"Then how will you find yours? If you're coming right back, 
I'll wait for you in the lobby."

She paused. The last thing she wanted right now was to talk 
to Claude. Besides, there was no way they could get this 
into the morning paper anyway. "No. I don't know how long 
it will take me to get back. Besides, they might consider 
our going to another hotel and if you're sitting in the 
lobby..."

"Then how will you find your room?"

"Umm... Book me one under the name..." She hesitated. 
Suddenly, she couldn't think of a single name not 
associated with her family or the Daily Planet. "...Lois 
Kent."

"Lois Kent?" asked Claude and Lois could just imagine his 
eyebrows going up.

"It's just a name, Claude." Just then Lois heard someone at 
the door. "Gotta go," she said immediately hanging up the 
phone. She quickly made her way back to the couch and had 
just got seated when the door opened.

"Sorry that took so long," said Clark. "I had problems 
finding antiseptic."

"No problem," said Lois. "Besides, it didn't seem that 
long." She had hoped to be gone before he got back. Well, 
as long as he didn't realize what she'd done, she should be 
able to get out of here as soon as... What was the reason 
he'd invited her to his apartment? Right. Her face. She 
reached up again and flinched slightly as she touched her 
jaw line. Well, she'd let him help her with that and then 
she'd get out of here. Just a few more minutes and she'd be 
home free. She just had to keep her cool until then. After 
all, she could no longer deny that he must be involved in 
this conspiracy.

Clark set down the bag with his purchases and headed into 
the washroom. Lois glanced at the washroom door. When she 
heard the water beginning to run, she quickly reached over 
and grabbed the bag to look inside. There were first aid 
supplies and... She moaned. There were two Double Fudge 
Crunch Bars. Oh, yeah. She really could like this guy. She 
shook her head. What was she thinking? This guy was 
involved with smuggling drugs into the States.

"Are you okay?" asked Clark from the washroom.

"Umm..." said Lois, somewhat embarrassed. "I just saw the 
chocolate bars. I looked at the hotel this afternoon and 
they'd never heard of Double Fudge Crunch Bars. And this is 
interesting. The writing on the wrapper isn't even in 
Spanish. Strange."

* * * * * * * * *
 
In the washroom, Clark choked. He hadn't even considered 
that they might not have Double Fudge Crunch Bars in 
Paramador. When he hadn't been able to find antiseptic in 
Paramador, he'd taken a quick trip to a drug store in the 
States. While he'd been there, he'd spotted the chocolate 
bars and thought... He wasn't usually that careless. 
"Umm... I guess you just have to know where to shop," he 
said. "Help yourself. I thought the energy in the chocolate 
might be good for you."

"You know the way to a woman's heart, don't you?" she 
responded. He could hear her remove one of the bars from 
the bag and rip open the wrapper.

'I hope so,' thought Clark. He quickly rebuked himself. She 
needed his help. That was the only reason this woman was in 
his apartment. And after this morning, he was fairly 
certain she was involved with someone else. 

Still, he seemed completely incapable of stopping these 
unfamiliar feelings. All she had to do was look at him and 
his heart seemed to take flight. If he wasn't very careful 
here, he was going to wind up making a complete and utter 
fool of himself.

Taking a deep breath, he picked up the basin of water, 
grabbed a towel and wash cloth and headed back into the 
living room.

"Would you mind if I looked in a mirror?" she asked, when 
he'd set down the basin.

"I'll get you one, umm..." Suddenly, he stopped and turned 
towards her. "I don't even know your name."

"Lois Lane," she informed him.

"Lois Lane," he said slowly, as if trying on for size. 
"Yeah, that works," he finally said.

She gave an almost involuntary sounding chuckle. "I'm glad 
you approve."


"No. It's not that," Clark rushed to explain. "I had just 
wondered... I mean I've been thinking..." Suddenly he fell 
into an awkward silence before her amused expression. He 
had been thinking about her since their meeting - trying to 
figure out her name, among other things. "Umm... anyway..." 
said Clark. He offered her his hand. "It's nice to finally 
meet you, Ms. Lane," he said. 

She gave a surprised-sounding chuckle and reached out to 
take his hand. The moment her hand was wrapped in his, her 
laughter died. Lois pulled her hand back quickly. Clark bit 
his lip. She obviously realized just how attracted he was 
to her. And given the fact that she didn't know him and was 
alone with him in his apartment, he was going to have to be 
careful or he was going to spook her completely.

"The mirror?" she asked, refusing to make eye contact.

"Oh, right," said Clark, heading for the washroom. There 
was a mirror on the wall that she could use.

When he came back, Lois looked at what was obviously a wall 
mirror. She shook her head. "I could have come into the 
washroom," she informed him.

Clark shrugged, trying to slough off another obvious 
mistake. "It was no problem." He held the mirror so that 
she could look into it. She pulled in a sharp breath. There 
was a gash three inches long along her jaw line.

Clark immediately sat down beside her on the couch. "It's 
not that bad. It really isn't very deep. I'm sure we can 
fix it up so that you won't even have a scar," he said 
reassuringly.

She took a deep breath and nodded.

Knowing there was nothing else he could say that would help 
her feel better, he decided to take action. He took the 
wash cloth and gently began to clean out the dirt. As he 
did, he carefully used his heat vision to help with the 
healing. By the time he put the antiseptic on the cut, it 
had already healed enough to keep it from being too 
painful. He removed the butterfly bandages he had purchased 
and used them to close a small section that was a bit worse 
than the rest.

When he was finally finished, he took the wash cloth again 
and wiped away the dried blood on her face and neck, before 
handing her the mirror again. He wished he could have done 
more, but it was going to be difficult enough explaining 
what he'd already done.

* * * * * * * * * 

Lois wasn't entirely sure what to make of the situation. 
His old fashioned country charm when he'd called her 'Ms. 
Lane' was amusing. His awkwardness and confusion were 
enchanting. When he's stumbled all over himself regarding 
her name, she'd immediately picked up the implications. But 
it wasn't until he'd touched her hand that she felt it for 
the first time - and it was terrifying. The electricity 
that seemed to jump between them as if they had just closed 
the circuit on an electrical outlet was startling. It took 
every ounce of courage Lois possessed to keep from jumping 
up and bolting from Kent's apartment right then. How could 
she be having these feelings for a drug smuggler?

But that was nothing compared to what she'd felt when he'd 
begun to tend to her wound. She had felt every touch of 
this man's hands on her face and neck. There almost seemed 
to be a heat radiating from his hands. She concentrated on 
his apartment to distract her from how close he was and the 
unfamiliar sensations his closeness were causing in her. 
She kept telling herself she was just letting him do this 
because she didn't want to make him suspicious of her 
reasons for being here. However, none of these thoughts 
seemed to stop the way her body was reacting to his touch. 
She had to swallow hard several times to try to convince 
her mouth to produce moisture.

Lois didn't look at him as he handed her the mirror. She 
was afraid he would notice how affected she was by his 
touch. As she took the mirror, he got up.

"Would you like some coffee?" he asked.

She wasn't about to have coffee with him. He was obviously 
finished with his first aid work so she now had her excuse 
to go. She would thank him, but tell him that she really 
had to leave. 

"I'd love some coffee," she heard herself respond. She 
couldn't help but notice the way he suddenly lit up. Her 
heart involuntarily skipped a beat.

"Great. I'll be right back," he said, heading for the 
kitchen.

She watched him go, wondering exactly what she thought she 
was doing. He was obviously involved with this. Wasn't he? 
She glanced around his apartment. He didn't seem to have a 
lot of money. The place was clean, but not fancy. Claude 
may well have been right in his assessment. After all, if 
he had enough extra money to give Roberto's wife fifteen 
hundred dollars, surely he would be living in a nicer 
place. The money must have come from whomever he worked for 
- Chavez probably.

She gathered her courage before looking in the mirror. She 
let out an unexpected breath. The cut didn't look bad at 
all. She might still have a slight scar, but she was 
confident it wouldn't be all that noticeable. Even if he 
was a drug smuggler, he was great at first aid work. And as 
long as he didn't know what she'd discovered, she should be 
safe enough.

"What did you do?" she asked loudly so that he could hear 
her from the kitchen. "This cut doesn't look half bad."

"Well, most of what you saw before was from the blood," 
Clark responded from the kitchen. "By the way, do you know 
why someone would want to hurt you?"

Lois let out a breath. "I think it was just a mugging."

"I guess we should call the police."

"No! I mean, I don't want to make a big deal out of this. 
They won't likely find the woman anyway and I'll be going 
back to Metropolis soon. So even if they do find her, 
they'd probably have to let her go since I won't be here to 
testify. Besides, I don't want to have to spend hours in 
the police station right now."

"Well, I guess it's your call," came Clark's hesitant 
response from the kitchen.

Lois glanced in the mirror again. This time she noticed the 
amount of blood on her shirt. She let out a breath. It 
really could have been a lot worse if it hadn't been for 
Kent coming along when he had. Why would he save her life 
if he had been part of the attempt to kill her? She shook 
her head and got up. She wasn't going to figure it all out 
sitting here, so she decided to look around. Maybe 
something here would let her know who he really was. And 
suddenly, knowing who this man was was a matter of some 
concern.

There were a number of unusual artifacts around his 
apartment. There were also pictures on the wall, but Lois 
suspected the apartment was furnished when he'd rented it - 
including the pictures. They were mostly the type you might 
find in a cheap hotel room.

She spotted a picture that caught her attention. Unlike the 
other pictures, it was not cheap. It was a hand drawn 
picture in black and white. There was a farm house in the 
foreground and fields of wheat or corn or something. But 
what was so striking about it was the sunset. Although the 
picture was in black and white, there was something about 
the way the picture was drawn that told her how brilliant 
the sunset was - as if the artist saw the place in a 
spectacular light. She looked at the bottom corner of the 
drawing. It read, 'Clark Kent'.

When she heard Clark reenter the living room, she glanced 
over at him before looking back at the picture.

"You drew this?" she asked.

He nodded. "It's where I grew up," he informed her, handing 
her a cup of coffee. "If you want something in it, I've got 
an assortment on the coffee table."

She took the cup and turned back towards the picture. "It's 
striking, Clark," she said softly.

"Thank you. I guess it does capture the way I feel about 
the farm."

She glanced over at him, digesting that information. Then 
she made her way to the coffee table and fixed her coffee 
the way she liked it.

"So where is this farm of yours?"

"It's in a small town in Kansas that you've probably never 
heard of. It's called Smallville."

She paused - could someone who was from a small town in 
Kansas really be involved in a drug smuggling operation? 
Suddenly she had to know. Maybe the best way to do that was 
to get him talking about himself. "So tell me. What was it 
like growing up in a small farming town?"

Clark nodded and got a far off look, before giving her a 
glimpse into life as a child in Smallville, Kansas and the 
home of Martha and Jonathan Kent. There was a softness on 
his face and in his voice when he spoke about his home. She 
listened to the sound of his voice almost more than she 
took in the actual words. It was so hard while hearing this 
man talk about his home with such tenderness to believe 
that he could be mixed up in a plan to smuggle drugs into 
America. Still, there was no denying that he'd had the 
incriminating papers on him. If he were legitimate, why 
hadn't he taken the papers to the police or other 
authorities?

Still, as he continued to talk, Lois' questioning voice 
seemed to fall increasingly on deaf ears. There was 
something so wholesome, so whole about this man. In a way 
that she didn't understand, there was something about him 
that called to her.

When he finished, he glanced at her.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Did I upset you?"

It wasn't until then that Lois realized that there were 
tears slipping silently down her cheeks. She brushed them 
away embarrassedly. 

"No. Of course not. It's just..." She looked away from him. 
"I guess, I'm just a little bit jealous."

"Life in Metropolis not quite so simple?" he asked.

"Life in the Lane family was not quite so simple," she 
replied before she could stop herself. She gave a self-
depreciating smile. "It's no big deal."

Clark moved a little closer, picking up one of her hands in 
his. "I'm sorry, Lois," he said softly.

She pulled in an involuntarily jagged breath. With what had 
happened between her and Claude earlier today, the pain of 
her home situation had once again been brought to the 
forefront of her mind. The sincerity of his words pushed 
her over the edge. Soon more tears were slipping down her 
cheeks and then, without her remembering the moment or how 
it had happened, his arms were around her and her cheek was 
pressed against his chest. 

For a moment, she considered pulling away, but when he 
sighed as if he could actually feel her pain, she accepted 
the comfort of his embrace. Just for a minute. Just until 
she regained control. Still, the tears refused to stop. She 
balled her hands in the front of his shirt and continued to 
cry.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

She shook her head, trying to get herself under control. 
She had never allowed herself to break down in front of 
anyone. Yet here she was, crying in the arms of this 
stranger - this man who was likely a drug smuggler.

It was quite some time before the tears subsided. When they 
did, Lois couldn't quite pull away as the embarrassment 
over breaking down took the place of pain. They continued 
to sit there in silence for another minute before Clark 
pulled away. She quickly moved further away, keeping her 
head bent as she wiped the tears from her face. She stilled 
when his hand came up under her chin, forcing her to look 
at him. 

"Don't worry about it," he said softly, as if instinctively 
understanding her embarrassment. "You were nearly killed 
this evening. I suspect most of this," he continued, 
running a finger down the tear stain on her cheek to 
explain what he meant by 'this', "is the result of that. 
It's normal to break down once the adrenaline drains from 
your system."

"I suppose," she said, diverting her eyes.

"You know what we should do?" asked Clark.



She looked at him suspiciously as she waited for him to 
continue. Was he about to capitalize on what he must see as 
her vulnerability? She held her breath waiting to discover 
that he was just like every other man she had ever known. 
After all, she knew very well that Claude would find a way 
to get her into bed under the pretext of offering her 
comfort. So she waited for it. She waited to hear those 
words that she knew would break her heart.

"We should go out somewhere and have a little fun," said 
Clark.

"What do you mean by fun?" she asked.

"I don't know. Dancing maybe. I mean we've had a pretty 
heavy hour..."

She glanced at her watch as he continued. He was right. It 
had been nearly an hour since they had first entered his 
apartment.

"...so why don't we see what we can do to lighten the 
mood?"

She let out a breath. He wasn't trying to get her into bed 
- at least not at the moment. And he was right. Now that 
she'd had a good cry, she needed something light and fun. 
"Dancing sounds great," she said, forgetting entirely her 
reason for being here or this man's possible involvement in 
some criminal conspiracy. She smiled when he got that same 
child-on-Christmas-morning look she had seen when she'd 
first said she'd stay for coffee.

"Umm..." said Clark, suddenly thinking of something. "But 
what about your... umm... friend? Won't he be worried?" 

"Claude?" she asked. "I wouldn't worry about him. I told 
him I didn't know when I'd be back." It wasn't exactly 
true, but right now she didn't care whether he was worried 
or not. Besides, she doubted he would worry - except about 
whether she'd bring back the story.

"Are you sure you don't want to give him a call? Just in 
case?"

Lois shook her head. She didn't want to even think about 
Claude right now - let alone talk to him. Suddenly, she 
thought of a complication. "My shirt," she said, looking 
down at her blood-stained shirt.

"Umm... I could take you back to your hotel to get changed. 
Or you could raid my closet. See if there's something there 
that might be acceptable."

She smiled. She liked the idea of raiding his closet. He 
showed her to his room and then left her to explore. When 
he left, closing the door behind him, she suddenly realized 
he was certainly not acting as if he had anything to hide. 
He had given her free reign to search his room, should she 
so choose. Not exactly the type of behavior she would 
expect from a person involved in smuggling drugs into the 
States.

Still, if there was even a possibility... She really should 
just thank him for his assistance and be on her way. She 
started again towards the door to his room before again 
stopping.

Maybe that wasn't her best option. After all, she might be 
able to get even more information about this drug smuggling 
operation. Of course, if the bad guys knew what she and 
Claude were looking for and if he really was one of the bad 
guys, which she thought he probably was, it was entirely 
possible that he was working her. Well, if that was the 
game he was playing... It only took a moment before she was 
searching his room, looking for any more information. The 
room revealed nothing. 

When she'd finished her search, she paused. There was one 
thing that made absolutely no sense to her. If Clark Kent 
were involved in this whole drug smuggling operation, why 
would he have saved her from someone who was obviously 
trying to kill her to keep her from exposing the same 
operation? Unless... She shook her head slightly when she 
realized what must have happened. This was obviously a 
question of the right hand not knowing what the left hand 
was doing. Clark Kent was just a small cog in a big 
operation. He'd been sent to retrieve the documents from 
Roberto Perez. At the same time, they obviously hadn't seen 
fit to tell him that two reporters from the Daily Planet 
were looking into the situation. And he must never have 
encountered the woman who'd attacked her before. 

Okay, so he didn't know who she was or what she was looking 
for. That meant she should be safe enough. And maybe, even 
if he was only a small cog, he could give her more 
information for the story. After hesitating no more than a 
moment, she looked in his closet and found a white dress 
shirt. She refused to question her motivation when she put 
on the shirt and found a way to make it work. She was only 
trying to find more information for the story. It was only 
a moment later before she reemerged from the bedroom.

* * * * * * * * *

Sweet Tart hung up her cell phone as the nurses finished 
setting the cast. She took a steadying breath before using 
her phone to make another call.

"Trevanian here," said the voice on the other end of the 
line.

"Trevanian, it's Sweet Tart."

"Is it done? Are they dead?"

"No."

"What do you mean no?" Trevanian demanded.

"The woman got away. I sent someone to..." She glanced 
around, realizing that she wasn't alone. "...deal with the 
man. He had checked out of the hotel."

"What do you mean you sent someone? Why didn't you take 
care of it yourself?"

"I broke my foot," she said. "They are just finishing up 
with it now."

"So you aren't able to talk freely."

"No. I'm not," she confirmed. "But I'll find them and I 
know what to do."

"Then do it," said Trevanian slamming down the phone.

Tart flinched at the sound of the phone being slammed down. 
She looked down at the cast on her foot. She briefly 
wondered how she had managed to break it. The man who'd 
interfered with her assignment must have been wearing some 
sort of body armor.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois was laughing when she and Clark reentered Clark's 
apartment some time later. They had come back here after 
going dancing because the place didn't have a phone. Since 
phones were considered a luxury in Paramador, Lois had 
declined Clark's offer to see her back to the hotel and 
chose, instead, to use the phone at Clark's place to call a 
cab. Luckily, he saw phones as a necessity and so had one 
installed in his apartment.

Lois had been surprised when she entered the club. It was 
unlike any club she'd ever been to before. This place had 
no cover charge. There were wood planks making up the floor 
and a band that seemed to change over the course of the 
evening, new members being added as others left. In fact, 
it was more like a jam session with amateur neighborhood 
musicians than a band. 

However, once she got passed her initial surprise, she 
discovered that what they lacked in professionalism, they 
made up for in enthusiasm. The band was lively; the people 
were friendly and obviously enjoyed letting go of the 
anxieties of every day life to embrace its wonder. In such 
an atmosphere, it didn't take long for Lois' mood to 
lighten. In fact, she wasn't sure she could ever remember 
having so much good, clean fun.

Clark seemed to be well-known and well-liked among the 
patrons. Lois had received a number of jealous looks from 
the women and numerous requests to dance from the men - 
some of which she had even accepted. Clark, however, had 
danced only with her. On a couple of occasions, she had 
even managed to catch him watching her as if she was the 
only woman in the room. Unlike Claude, who ogled everything 
with breasts, she seemed to have Clark's undivided 
attention. She couldn't remember any man ever making her 
feel so special.

What had Lois laughing, however, was that near the end of 
the evening, the 'band' had enlisted Clark to sing. He 
couldn't carry a tune to save his life - the band seemed to 
know that when they asked him. It had been a lot of fun 
seeing how enthusiastically he embraced life. Everyone, 
including Clark, had dissolved into fits of laughter at his 
singing. It was some sort of Spanish love song, which he 
and the band sang to her. However, it had been more fun 
than romantic.

"Clark, have you ever considered singing professionally?" 
Lois asked with a laugh as they stepped inside the 
apartment.

"Maybe I should," Clark replied while seeming to consider 
the question.

Lois laughed. "Well, just don't quit your day job."

"Well, I guess I should call you a cab," said Clark. He 
looked at her, as if about to say something, before turning 
and heading towards the phone.

Lois watched as he picked up the phone. She had been having 
such a good time. The idea of going back to the hotel and 
facing Claude was not an appealing prospect. Besides, the 
noise at the club hadn't allowed for a lot of talking. She 
pushed aside the idea that getting information for the 
story might not be her primary motivation as she spoke.

"Clark, I'm not feeling very tired. I mean, if you are..."

"No. I'm not," Clark responded immediately, setting the 
receiver back down and turning to look at her. "Would you 
like to stay for a while? I mean, we could have some tea or 
something."

Lois smiled. "Tea sounds great." 

Lois was deep in thought when Clark left for the kitchen. 
She really had all the information she needed for the 
story. Maybe it would be best if she simply left now. But 
for a reason she couldn't quite identify, the idea of 
leaving here and never seeing this man again was almost 
more than she could bear. 

Lois knew she had an impulsive streak. She tended to jump 
into the pool without checking the water level first. 
Still, that reckless tendency had never extended into the 
realm of interpersonal relationships. She had no problems 
risking herself physically, but she shied away from risking 
herself emotionally. After all, it had taken Claude almost 
two months to get past her barriers. And if anything, that 
should have made her even more reluctant to get involved 
with someone else. 

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind. She wasn't 
doing anything, after all. They'd have a cup of tea and 
talk. Hopefully, that would allow her to ask some of the 
questions she'd been unable to ask at the club. Then, 
whether she'd obtained additional information or not, she'd 
leave - never to see Clark Kent again. She was just being a 
good reporter.

She couldn't help but smile when Clark re-entered the 
living room. She watched in silence as he set the tea on 
the coffee table. After looking at the couch beside her, 
Clark moved towards a chair.

"Clark," she said. When he stopped to look at her, she 
patted the couch. He smiled and came over to sit beside 
her.

She shook her head slightly. Now, why had she done that? 
She couldn't quite say. She was playing with fire and she 
was only too aware of that fact. However, in spite of 
everything, she felt a sudden and unexpected flutter of 
emotion when she felt the couch beside her depress. She 
shifted positions, sitting on one leg so that she could 
watch him as he fixed their tea.

"How's your cheek?" asked Clark.

Lois' hand immediately went to the cut. "I'd completely 
forgotten about it," she said. "Whatever you did to it 
seems to have worked. It doesn't even hurt." She ran her 
hand over it. "It itches a little, though."

"I'm glad it's better. Sorry about the itching, though," 
said Clark. Their eyes met and the current of electricity 
was back. He cleared his throat and broke eye contact 
before asking, "How long are you planning to stay in 
Paramador?"

She knew immediately what he was asking - was there any 
possibility of getting to know each other better. She 
looked down. Even if there wasn't enough information in the 
documents she had stolen from Clark to allow them to leave 
Paramador tomorrow, she couldn't see him again. It wasn't 
even an option. He stood for everything she was against. 
"We're going back tomorrow," she informed him. It was best 
if he believed that even if it turned out not to be true. 
When she left here tonight, it was best that both of them 
believe they would never see each other again.

Clark pulled in a sharp breath.

Lois glanced over at him. He was staring intently into his 
tea cup. Reaching over, she placed a hand on his leg. When 
he looked at her, she spoke. "We still have tonight," she 
said softly.

He met her eyes and she felt a blush rise in her cheeks. 
She hadn't meant that exactly the way it sounded, but at 
the look in his eyes she suddenly wanted it to mean the way 
it sounded. Her heart began to race at what she seemed to 
be doing. Her mind was yelling at her to get out now - 
before she did something she couldn't take back. But her 
heart... 

His eyes left hers, drifting to where her hand still lay 
resting on his leg. Using a single finger, he silently 
began tracing an obscure pattern on it.

Lois closed her eyes. She was a little overwhelmed by the 
direction this seemed to be going. Never before had she 
known heat as intense as that which she was experiencing 
now. It seemed that everywhere he touched her sparks 
traveled from his finger and spread under her skin. How 
could such a simple touch be so electrically charged?

Clark's hand slipped under hers. Lois felt a sudden fear 
that he was about to remove it, but that ended when he 
raised her hand to his lips and slowly kissed the soft skin 
between her thumb and index finger. Lois drew in a sharp 
breath.

"I'm sorry," he said, immediately releasing her hand. "I 
don't know what I was thinking. I just..." As he spoke, he 
began to get up.

"Clark!" Lois said, cutting him off. 

He stood where he had risen. In obvious turmoil, it took 
him a moment to meet her eyes.

Lois swallowed hard when their eyes met. He looked almost 
as if he couldn't believe what he'd just done, as if a 
force more powerful than he was at work, fueling embers 
slowly simmering just beneath the surface. He scuffed his 
feet nervously and it suddenly occurred to Lois that he 
really believed he'd done something wrong. That was hard 
information for Lois to process - especially given the fact 
that he was involved in smuggling drugs. She was so used to 
being the one to have to cool things off, putting out the 
building fire. But much to her own surprise, she didn't 
want things to cool off. In fact, she suddenly felt as if 
she was going to freeze if someone didn't turn up the 
temperature.

Taking a deep breath, she rose from the couch. He seemed 
unable to meet her eyes, staring somewhere over her 
shoulder as if waiting for her wrath. For a long moment, 
Lois just looked at him. And then, burying a hand in the 
hair on the back of his head, she pulled him to her, intent 
on finding out if his kiss was as charged as his touch.

Clark hesitated, staring into her eyes for a moment, 
searching them as if needing to be sure he understood. Then 
he let out a short breath as his hands came up to her 
cheeks. Holding her head between his hands, he leaned back 
in. The kiss wasn't much more than a soft brushing of their 
lips across each other. However, it was only a moment more 
before both moved to continue the kiss. Lois' arms found 
their way around his neck, even as his pulled her closer. 

The charged air created an instantaneous spark at the touch 
of their lips, igniting the dry tinder. The small spark 
soon caught and the fire came to life, moving as if it had 
a mind of his own. Each moment the kiss continued fed the 
fire. Her hands ran through his hair with increasing 
desperation, as if she was unable to get close enough, 
quick enough. Her body, almost as if it was no longer under 
her control, no longer cared about modesty or propriety as 
she began to grind against him, communicating all her 
longing and desire. She whimpered, not understanding this 
need, but completely consumed by it nonetheless. 

The way Clark's hands were running over her back told her 
that he was as caught up in this wild fire as she was. It 
was as if he were trying to touch every inch of her back at 
the same time. One of his hands slipped even lower, pulling 
her closer as if having even a millimeter separating body 
from body would be a sin.

At each step, Lois attempted to build a fire line - a line 
at which the blazing fire would be stopped. To start, she'd 
told herself not to let the fire burn beyond a kiss. When 
she felt his hands slip beneath the back of her shirt, the 
line was breached, pushing her to build a new line - this 
time to stop it at the removal of clothing. 

But then the need to feel skin beneath her fingers became 
all-consuming. Her hands were soon pulling at the back of 
his sweater in an attempt to find more skin. Breaking the 
kiss, she grabbed the back of his sweater, pulling it over 
his head before once again attacking his mouth as if the 
time apart had been like throwing gasoline on the already 
raging fire.

Reaching up, she removed his glasses, tossing them on the 
coffee table even as the fire increased in heat and 
intensity. A wild fire. Raging out of control. Burning as 
hot as a forest fire and moving with the speed of a grass 
fire. All they knew was each other. All that existed was 
this moment.

Somehow, although afterwards Lois wouldn't remember exactly 
how, except for a vague recollection of being carried, they 
found themselves on his bed, a mass of hands and legs, 
seeking out each other's bodies, desperate to know each 
other's secrets. Neither were thinking in terms of words, 
only feelings, desires and need. Clothing was increasingly 
tossed to the side as each attempted to find the meaning of 
life in the other.

Suddenly, Clark pulled back. Panting hard, he stared at the 
woman beneath him. It took her a moment to gather conscious 
thought enough to realize what was happening - and in 
particular, that Clark had stopped. 

"Lois, what are we doing?" he asked, almost as if 
desperately attempting to fight the all-consuming blaze.

"I think we're about to make love," breathed Lois before 
pulling his mouth back down to hers. It was not a request. 
It was not a conscious decision. It was simply a statement 
of fact, said while trying to figure out how to get his 
mouth back to hers.

"That's what I thought," groaned Clark, allowing her to 
draw him back into the fire. 

"No," Clark panted, breaking their kiss once again. 
"Wait... We..." Each word was interspersed with a pant - as 
if the fire was eating all the air around them. "I'm not 
sure I can do this."

"What?" asked Lois.

"I want you. Oh, god. You have no idea how badly I want 
you, but... "

"But?" asked Lois, not quite able to believe what seemed to 
be happening. Was he really trying to stop them? The idea 
that he could even think logically in the heat of this wild 
fire was mind-boggling. She was already having problems 
grasping any idea beyond the next kiss. In point of fact, 
she didn't want to think about anything beyond the next 
kiss.

"Are you sure you really want to do this?" he asked.

Lois blinked. For the first time in her life, Lois 
understood what it was to lose control. And it was 
incredible. Yet Clark... Although Claude was the only man 
Lois had ever been with, she'd certainly had enough men try 
to get her into bed. Never had one offered to stop before. 
In fact, usually, they pushed things as far as they could, 
barely caring whether she wanted to continue or not. His 
offer to stop only managed to feed the flame.

Without answering his question directly, she used the hand 
that was still buried in his hair to pull him back to her.

"Wait, wait, wait," breathed Clark again, before she could 
continue the kiss.

Lois released him, feeling somewhat frustrated, and watched 
as he moved back again. He was forcing her to think - and 
thinking was just about the last thing she wanted to do 
right now. Why couldn't he just kiss her and again silence 
the voices trying to convince her that she shouldn't do 
this? 

"I just..." He closed his eyes and Lois watched his entire 
body tremble as if he were single-handedly battling an 
inferno. "You're leaving tomorrow. I want so much more than 
just one night. I'm not sure I'll survive if we make love 
and then..." His voice trailed off.

Lois closed her eyes, as it sunk in what he was saying. No 
matter what rotten things he might be involved in, it was 
obvious that this man had a heart. Under any other 
circumstances, she would have been thanking the gods for 
sending her a guy that wasn't just interested in casual 
sex. However, these weren't normal circumstances. This 
wasn't the beginning of something. It couldn't be the 
beginning of something. Clark was part in the conspiracy to 
smuggle drugs into the States in exchange for arms. That 
meant...

That meant she really should stop this now. She closed her 
eyes even tighter as all the reasons she shouldn't be doing 
this flooded her mind. In fact, there was only one reason 
to continue with her current course of action. And that was 
quite simply that she wanted to be with Clark. She wanted 
it - desperately. Even if it killed her, which she 
suspected it would, she wanted to be with Clark. She wanted 
to be consumed by the flames only he had ever been able to 
generate.

Pushing all the reasons she shouldn't be doing this to the 
back of her mind, she opened her eyes. Clark was watching 
her. Sitting up, she ran her hand slowly down his chest - 
marveling in how perfect his body was - until her fingers 
were playing with his waistband.

"All we have is tonight, Clark.," she breathed, before 
leaning forward to kiss him. "Please," she said, when the 
kiss broke. "I want tonight." And she did. No matter what 
might happen tomorrow, she wanted tonight. Beyond all 
reason, and damning the consequences, she wanted this one 
moment with Clark - more than she would have believed 
possible.

Clark groaned, as if he too was no longer able to fight 
this irresistible fire. He buried his hand in the hair on 
the back of her head, and pulled her to him for a kiss that 
robbed them both of breath. His free hand ran down her body 
as he lay back on the bed, pulling her with him.

The short break had done nothing to turn down the 
temperature. In fact, if anything they had only managed to 
fan the flames. Clark groaned and she felt the tip of his 
tongue slip gently between her lips. His hands found their 
way into her hair as his tongue began pursuing hers around 
her mouth. It wasn't long before the kiss was out of 
control - hands roaming wildly, bodies seeking greater and 
greater contact.

"Yes," Lois whispered before abandoning all conscious 
thought in order to simply feel.

* * * * * * * * *


Tart cringed when the phone rang again. Trevanian was 
obviously worried. She made sure her voice sounded 
confident before answering the phone.

"Have you found them yet?" demanded Trevanian the instant 
she picked up.

"No, sir. But I'm sure it's just a matter of time."


"Well, just in case it's more than that, I'll be bringing 
some men out tomorrow morning. Meet me at the airport at 
seven."

"Yes, sir."

* * * * * * * * *

Clark collapsed onto the bed as he struggled to regain 
control of his breathing. He moved his hand to his forehead 
and was surprised to find beads of perspiration on it. He 
didn't sweat. But then, he'd never quite experienced 
anything like that before either. It had been incredible 
except... His mind flashed back to one moment. He didn't 
know exactly what he'd seen in her eyes, but the guilt 
there had informed him that, no matter the intensity of the 
passion that existed between them, she was holding 
something back - something that would ensure that there was 
no possibility of a future for them.


Suddenly, he felt the bed next to him shudder. He glanced 
over at Lois and saw a tear slipping down her cheek. He 
immediately reached for her. She seemed unable to meet his 
eyes, but still she scampered for his arms. Snuggling into 
them, she placed her head on his chest - her body trembling 
as she silently cried against him.

When Clark felt the wetness against his chest, he gently 
stroked her hair and whispered reassuring noises. No matter 
what she would do to him - and he had no doubt that she 
would hurt him terribly - he could hardly stand knowing she 
was in pain. 

"I'm sorry," Clark said. "I shouldn't have let us..."

Lois rose out of his arms and finally met his eyes. "Don't, 
Clark. Please." She lowered her eyes. "I wouldn't trade one 
moment of tonight for anything," she whispered.

Clark brushed the tears off her cheeks. "I don't believe 
you," he said softly.

Her eyes came up and met his again. "It's true, Clark. No 
matter what happens tomorrow..." Her voice trailed off. She 
gave him a teary smile before looking down again. 

"Can't you tell me what's wrong, Lois?" Clark asked.

She shook her head almost imperceptibly before saying, 
"Please, Clark, can't we just enjoy the time we have left?"

Clark closed his eyes briefly. He wished so badly that she 
would tell him what was bothering her, but he could hardly 
force her. He would forgive her anything - but maybe it 
wasn't even his forgiveness she wanted. It was entirely 
possible that the look he'd seen in her eyes had to do with 
her traveling companion.

Finally, he nodded, pulling her back to him. After drawing 
the blanket over them, he wrapped his arms around her 
protectively. He waited until they were settled before once 
again speaking. "I think I'm falling in love with you, Lois 
Lane," he whispered. He closed his eyes and held her closer 
when she trembled in response.

* * * * * * * * *

"Captain," said the first mate aboard the Alexandra.

"What is it?" growled the captain.

"I can't correct the problem with the radio. Should we 
continue on course?"

The captain thought about the question. "Yes. There's no 
reason to believe anyone knows about the cargo on this 
ship. Continue on course. We should be in Metropolis in 
just over twenty-four hours."

* * * * * * * * *

Lois lay in bed watching the soft beams of moonlight 
playing on Clark's face as he slept next to her. After he 
had drifted off, she lay for a long time against his chest. 
Finally, she moved to the other side of the bed in order to 
watch him. She studied his face - committing every detail 
to memory.

She wanted so badly to forget why she was here and just get 
lost in his arms for a few more hours. She had never felt 
such contentment and such agony at the same time. If only 
she'd have met him under other circumstances... If only he 
wasn't involved in smuggling drugs... 

She briefly considered just forgetting about the story - 
but the papers she'd read informed her that large qualities 
of drugs were being smuggled into America even as she lay 
here. She had to do what she could to stop it. And as much 
as she might not want to believe it, Clark was right in the 
middle of it. But what did that mean for her and Clark? She 
gave a small snort. It meant that there was no future for 
them. She closed her eyes tightly - once again fighting off 
threatening tears.

She had never before believed herself capable of a one 
night stand. And no matter how hard she tried to tell 
herself that wasn't what had happened here, she couldn't 
quite convince herself. Except that this was different. For 
the first time in her life, she had actually wanted to make 
love. There had been several times when he had tried to 
stop. She was the one who had pushed ahead. He'd seemed 
simply unable to resist her advances. But it was the 
knowledge that they didn't have a future that had kept her 
going - even when he informed her that he didn't have any 
protection.

She reached over to touch him, but then changed her mind, 
her hand stopping only inches from his face. She couldn't 
risk waking him. If he woke and begged her not to go, she 
wasn't entirely certain she'd have the strength to resist. 
And that was a recipe for disaster. She couldn't build a 
future with someone whose values and beliefs were so 
diametrically opposed to her own. A line from the Fiddler 
On The Roof flashed through her mind. A fish might love a 
bird, but where would they make a home?

She dried the tears on her cheeks before carefully climbing 
out of bed and looking for her clothes. She wanted to be 
gone before he woke up. She found everything except her 
black lace bra. Finally, she gave up. It was probably 
somewhere amongst the sheets. And she couldn't risk waking 
Clark. Besides, she had another one at the hotel. She'd 
just have to survive without this one.

She was slipping into her slacks when she saw the white 
shirt she had borrowed from Clark. She hesitated before 
picking it up and putting it back on. She couldn't quite 
say why, but she wanted something of his.

She stopped at the door to his room to look at him one 
final time. He was still sleeping. Maybe she was making a 
mistake. Maybe she could tell him who she was. Maybe she 
could convince him to find a different line of work. Yeah, 
right. She'd be putting her life in his hands. And although 
she couldn't believe he would ever hurt her, how could she 
really know? In fact, she really didn't know anything about 
the man in that bed. She smiled sadly before making her way 
quietly out of his room, closing the door behind her. There 
was no other choice.

Making her way to the phone, she quietly called a cab. As 
she waited, she thought about what had happened this 
evening. She hadn't considered her actions before sleeping 
with the man in the next room - that much was obvious. It 
was also evident that she wasn't meant to have casual sex. 
She couldn't separate the emotions from the physical act. 
That had to be the reason she was fancying herself in love 
with a man she didn't even know. She heard a car outside 
and quickly made her way out of Clark's apartment. 

* * * * * * * * *

Lois felt absolutely drained as she entered the lobby of 
the Regency Hotel. She didn't notice anyone or anything 
else as she made her way to her room. It took her a moment 
to get the door unlocked, her hands were trembling so 
badly. She took a deep breath before entering the darkened 
room. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it. 
When she had finally managed to calm down slightly, she 
turned on a light.

"Well, it took you long enough," Claude said.

Lois looked in the direction of the voice. Claude was 
sitting in one of the chairs - obviously waiting for her. 
She immediately looked away. The last thing she wanted 
right now was to talk to Claude.

"I thought I told you I wanted separate rooms," said Lois 
flatly.

"I've got my own room," said Claude. Rising, he made his 
way over to her. Once he was standing in front of her, he 
fingered the man's shirt she was wearing. As he did, Lois 
could almost feel the fury radiating off his body as it 
sunk in how she'd spent the last few hours.

"You did him, didn't you?" he hissed, confirming her 
analysis of his thought process. Without meeting his eyes, 
she instinctively began backing away until her back was 
against the wall. He followed, never allowing more than a 
foot between them.

"You did him!" he nearly yelled this time, his hand 
striking out to land hard on the wall beside her head.

Lois jumped, shivering as a result of his crude description 
of what had happened between her and Clark. Still, she 
forced herself to meet his eyes dead on and, in the most 
level voice she could muster, said, "You told me to."

He glared at her for a moment more before responding. "I 
hope you at least got the story."

She snorted - she should have known that would be his 
primary concern - before pushing at his chest to get him 
away from her. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out the 
documents she'd stolen from Clark.

"I got the damn story," she responded, pushing the papers 
at him. When he grabbed them, she darted under his arm and 
retreated to the other side of the room. She could still 
smell Clark on her. Claude's overpowering aftershave stunk 
in comparison. When she arrived at the other side of the 
room she turned towards him again. He was slowly examining 
the papers as he made his way to a chair. Although his 
knowledge of Spanish was worse than hers, it was obvious he 
was getting enough of the essence of the documents to 
understand the value of what she'd obtained.

His stormy expression lightened and then turned to 
excitement. He sunk into the chair as he continued to look 
through the documents.

"Oh, this is good," he said.

Lois looked at him with disdain. Watching his attitude 
change from jealousy when she entered the room in the 
middle of the night wearing another man's shirt to 
excitement when he saw what she had found, made her feel 
incredibly cheap.


"I think we need to celebrate," he finally said, rising 
from his chair. He came over to her and pulled her into his 
arms, kissing her roughly. 

Lois felt sick. The last thing she wanted was any physical 
contact with Claude - not when Clark's gentle touch was 
still burning on her skin. She pushed at him. He responded 
by tightening his arms around her and forcing his tongue 
into her mouth as if determined to prove to both of them 
that, no matter what had happened with Clark Kent, she 
belonged to him. 

Using all her strength, she shoved him again. Claude 
stumbled backwards into the room before recovering his 
balance. 

"What?" he asked. "You too good for me now?"

Lois glared at him. She had no intention of answering his 
question. In truth, she figured she was no better than 
Claude. That didn't stop her from being repulsed by his 
touch.

"Please, just leave, Claude," Lois said flatly, turning 
away from him, not having the heart for a good fight.

Claude approached her again as if unable to believe that 
she really wanted him to go.

He spun her towards him. "I don't understand you, woman! 
What are you thinking? Do you really think you have a 
future with this Mr. Kent?"

"I'm not a fool, Claude," Lois replied indignantly.

"Then why are you pushing me away? After what you did to 
get this story, you're the one who should be begging me."

Lois turned away.

"At least you got the story," he said, almost as if he was 
reminding himself instead of her. "And I've got to say that 
this is one hell of a story."

Lois flinched. She hadn't slept with Clark to get the 
story. She already had the story. She had given herself to 
him because she had wanted to - wanted to so much that she 
had abandoned every standard she'd ever had to be with him. 
Even now, she still couldn't bring herself to regret it. 
That didn't stop the dull ache in her heart - an ache she 
doubted she would ever really lose.

"Lois, without me, you'll be completely alone in the 
world," Claude reminded her.

She looked over at him, suddenly realizing Claude referred 
to her lack of connections in this world a lot. Maybe she 
would be alone - but for the first time in her life, Lois 
wondered if alone was preferable to settling for someone 
like Claude. She knew she would never deserve someone who 
treated her the way Clark Kent had. Still...

"Then I'll be alone," said Lois flatly. "Please, just 
leave, Claude. It's late. We'll discuss the story 
tomorrow."

Claude snorted before turning to leave the room. When he 
arrived at the door, he suddenly felt the papers being 
snatched from his hand. 

"What?" he demanded, turning around.

"What do you say I just hang onto these," Lois said.

Claude opened his mouth to object, but then closed it 
again. With a shrug of his shoulders, he spoke.

"Whatever," he said before turning and leaving the room.

Lois sank down onto the bed when he was gone. She felt 
absolutely wretched. More than that, she felt completely 
alone. Not for the first time, of course. Still, tonight, 
because of Clark, she realized what did exist out there. If 
only... She buried her head in her hands. What was the 
point in torturing herself like this? No matter how she 
looked at it, they had no future. She couldn't build a 
future with someone who would smuggle drugs. And when she 
thought about it now, it suddenly occurred to her that 
smuggling drugs might not be the only thing he was involved 
with. For all she knew, he'd been involved in Roberto's 
death. So why was it that she still desperately wanted to 
be back in his bed? It only took a moment for the tears to 
return. 

"I think I'm falling in love with you, too, Clark," she 
finally whispered to the empty room.

* * * * * * * * *

A few hours later, a small jet arrived at the Paramador 
airport. Sweet Tart hobbled out to meet it. She watched in 
silence as half a dozen men disembarked. However, Tart kept 
her eyes on the exit waiting for the final passenger. 
Trevanian stepped up to the exit and took a look around 
him, tapping his trademark cane against his hand, before 
making his way down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, 
Tart immediately approached.

"I haven't been able to locate them yet," she informed 
Trevanian.

"Well, with that foot, I can see why not," Trevanian 
replied. "That's why I brought the extra men. I won't be 
staying. I just wanted to make sure that you knew exactly 
how critical it was to plug these holes immediately."

"I know that," replied Tart.

Trevanian turned directly towards her. Looking unwaveringly 
into her eyes, he asked, "Do you?"

Tart pulled in a sharp breath. She understood the not so 
subtle warning. It was very important to her personally 
that she not fail a second time. She had no doubt that 
Trevanian would turn her into the scapegoat if she failed. 
Unlike a captain, he obviously had no intention of going 
down with the ship.

"Have I ever let you down before?" she asked. In spite of 
his warning, she was confident she could get this job done. 
That confidence was reflected in the tone of her question.

Trevanian smiled. "Name that tune, Ms. Tart," he said 
before turning back to the plane. "I'll be waiting for your 
call," he informed her. In truth, he would be waiting for 
her call and the call of one of the men he'd brought to 
assist her - David Montemuro.

Montemuro was a tall, scraggly man of Italian origin. He 
looked as little like a spy as it was possible to look and 
had none of the finesse usually associated with this 
profession. He had a shrill voice and glasses. Still, a 
careful look into his eyes revealed a total lack of 
emotion. In point of fact, the man fit perfectly the 
definition of a stone-cold killer.

Montemuro's assignment was to assist in locating and 
silencing two reporters from the Daily Planet before they 
got any incriminating information back for publication. And 
if that failed, he was to ensure that Ms. Tart was properly 
'rewarded'. Her death would allow Trevanian to construct a 
trail which, if any of it was traced to the NIA, he would 
claim was all the result of a rogue agent. Since she had 
been his point man... umm... woman on this project, he 
hoped to have everything blamed on her if there were an 
investigation.

* * * * * * * * *

"So, where should we go from here?" asked Lois as she and 
Claude reviewed the papers she had obtained last night.

"I think we pay another visit to the docks. After all, we 
now have the name of the ship that they are using for this 
operation. If we can find out when it's due to arrive in 
Metropolis..."

"We can have the police waiting for it."

"Right. And since the information will have come from us, 
we can negotiate being in on the bust too. That way, we can 
be sure that the legal department at the Daily Planet won't 
pull the plug on this story."

Lois nodded. "So then, what are we waiting for?" she asked. 
"Let's get the information and get back home."

* * * * * * * * *

Clark woke with a jerk - not quite able to believe that 
he'd allowed himself to fall asleep. Still, he was not 
surprised when he looked at the bed next to him to discover 
that Lois was gone. However, that didn't stop the pain - 
knowing that she wasn't there, never would be again. He 
snorted. Well, at least she hadn't lied to him. She had 
made it abundantly clear that last night was all they had. 
He shook his head ferociously. He would just have to put 
her, and last night, behind him. 

He crawled out of bed and was making his way to the shower 
when a thought struck him. Nah - it couldn't be. He tried 
to put the annoying idea out of his mind. She had left 
because she was involved with the man he'd seen her with at 
the docks. There was no big mystery here. Still, he 
couldn't seem to shake the idea so he made his way over to 
where his jacket was hanging. He reached into the inside 
jacket pocket. He let out a short breath, staggering 
slightly back into the room. Finding the nearest chair, he 
sunk into it.

How could he have been so stupid? He hit his hand against 
his forehead to emphasize the degree of his stupidity. She 
worked for them - for the people who were smuggling drugs 
into America. The attack must have been staged for his 
benefit. That would explain why she didn't want to call the 
police or go the hospital. She had come here to rid him of 
the only evidence he had of this operation.

And he had bought it - hook, line and sinker. The tears, 
the laughter, even the desire to make love to a virtual 
stranger. He had gone so far as to have even imagined 
himself in love with this woman and all the time she had 
been playing him. What a sucker!

* * * * * * * * *

The cab dropped Lois and Claude off a good distance from 
the docks so that their arrival would not stand out. 
Wearing overalls and caps and getting lost amidst the sea 
of workers heading for work, Lois and Claude made their way 
through the gates that allowed access to the docks.

The goal was to get in and out as quickly as possible - and 
then make their way immediately to the airport. After all, 
they could always get the rest of the story in Metropolis.

They kept their movements deliberate but casual - as if 
they had somewhere to go but were in no particular rush to 
get there. As a result, no one paid them any attention. A 
sign clearly marked the way to the harbor master's office, 
allowing them to find their way without assistance. They 
were surprised when they arrived to find it empty - but 
they weren't about to question a little good luck. Both 
quickly began looking through the papers, finding a number 
relating to the Alexandra. It didn't take long for them to 
discover that the Alexandra was scheduled to arrive in 
Metropolis that very night - actually, it would likely have 
been more accurate to say the Alexandra would arrive in the 
early hours of the next morning. 

"Let's get out of here," Lois said, sticking the 
appropriate document into her pocket.

Claude nodded his agreement. 

"I don't think so, Ms. Lane," said a woman's voice from the 
doorway.

Lois and Claude spun around to see a man and woman standing 
in the doorway - both had guns.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark was loading boxes when he first heard it. He shook 
his head slightly. Normally he had to be concentrating to 
hear a heart beat, but for some reason hers broke through. 
He closed his eyes briefly. His heart was telling him to 
follow the sound, but his mind objected. No matter the 
reaction his heart had to the sound, he wasn't about to 
make a fool of himself. She had slept with him to get that 
information back - nothing more. And there was no point in 
trying to get it back from her again - it was undoubtedly 
already ashes. He would just have to find another way to 
stop this operation.

His heart changed rhythm as it sought to match the one 
pounding in his ears. He growled in frustration as he 
picked up another box and moved it over to where the crane 
was loading boxes onto a truck. He told himself to ignore 
it. That really was the only choice. He couldn't be part of 
a drug smuggling operation.

Suddenly, something changed. It took Clark a moment to 
figure out what it was. The heart beat still pounding in 
his ears had speeded up. He tensed. She was scared. He set 
down the box and was about to head towards the sound. 
Suddenly, he stopped. She was a drug smuggler. Hopefully 
her fear indicated that she was about to be cau