A Kent Family Christmas Fairy Tale
By Jenni Debbage <jdse08662@blueyonder.co.uk>
Rated: PG-13
Submitted: May 2003

____________
 
This is a new project for me, writing a holiday story.  To 
tell the truth, I didn't intend to continue with my Kent 
Family series quite so soon... I had other things in mind.  
However, your assumption that there would be a sequel to 
Poisoned Legacy soon gave me this idea -- so you've only 
yourselves to blame if this goes a little off the rails.

I'm going to attempt to keep this story shorter and lighter 
than normal.  I know that most of you probably feel that my 
Kent family are always beset by crazy villains and 
disasters, so I'd like to give them some ordinary time 
together and maybe a chance to enjoy themselves.  At least, 
that's the intention, but whether the Kents will co-
operate, I have no idea.  I also couldn't write a story 
which didn't involve an A-plot, so there is one in there 
somewhere.  Oh, and my apologies to any supporters of a 
certain football team... these are Clark's opinions, not 
mine!

As always, these characters do not belong to me, except for 
those who are my own creations, and I intend only to have a 
little fun with them all.  Please let me know if you enjoy 
the story.  I love writing, but feedback is icing on the 
cake... and I have a very sweet tooth. <g>
  
A Kent Family Christmas Fairy Tale

Chapter One
Cinderella Kent

Clark Kent strode down the lightly snow-covered street, 
hardly noticing the chill in the air or the ice-laden fog 
which warred with the street lighting several feet high in 
the air.  A thick black overcoat wrapped his athletic form, 
but was purely for appearance's sake.  He reached his 
destination and bounded spritely up the stairs to his home, 
unlocked the outside door and breezed through the vestibule 
into his living room.  

If he'd given it much thought, he'd be extremely pleased 
with his burgeoning energy, as it hadn't been so very many 
weeks ago when he'd endured a bout of prolonged exhaustion 
and weakness.  Getting back to 'normal' for him had been a 
great relief.  There was something to be said for being 
invulnerable and immune to the various infections which 
plagued Earthling humans.  Now, having suffered something 
of their experience, he had a greater respect for how they 
managed to surmount these common ailments and carry on with 
their work and lives with such fortitude and verve.

Superman had returned to active duty in mid-November, after 
spending a quiet period with his wife and children.  To all 
the family's relief, apart from one more fire in the Hobbs 
Bay district, which had actually happened while Superman 
was still struggling to cope, fate had relented, and there 
had been no major emergencies during the hero's downtime.  
Perhaps the fickle lady had believed that the family had 
undergone enough trauma during the month of October.  And 
if the public had noticed at all that their resident 
'guardian angel' appeared to be cutting back on his more 
routine duties, they were happy to know that in a life-and-
death situation, Superman would always do his best to be 
there for them.  What he could do was more than enough.  
After all, he was neither a magician nor a god, and 
sometimes he couldn't be everywhere at once or work 
miracles.  But what amazed Clark the most was that he'd 
finally come to terms with this realisation, and the fact 
that Superman shouldn't feel guilty about putting his 
family and himself first now and then.

"Hi, kids... Lois, is anybody home?" he shouted to the 
empty downstair rooms of the brownstone.

There was a patter of tiny but determined feet from the 
stairwell above him and a pair of dancing eyes beneath a 
tousle of chestnut brown hair appeared round the corner of 
the landing.  "Hi, Daddy, we's here in the attics.  Paul's 
bringed Joel and Julian a new compooter game... it's 
fant... it's sooper!"  The small messenger giggled.  "You 
have to come see!"

Clark hung his coat on the stand by the door, and ran up 
the steps to his boys' bedrooms, scooping up his youngest 
son as he passed him by, and giving rise to a hilarious 
scream from Nathan.  "Look, Daddy, I's flying," the toddler 
shouted delightedly, sticking out one hand in a youthful 
imitation of the Man of Steel.

The two were soon entering the boys' room, where the rest 
of the children, plus Lois, were huddled round their 
visitor, who, in turn, was sitting in front of a large game 
console.  The one adult, however, seemed to be the only 
member of the group who'd detected the presence of a 
newcomer.

"Hallo, honey, would you come and have a look at this.  
Paul brought it over... seems it's the latest game to hit 
the stores for Christmas....  They think it's going to be 
number one.  Would you believe, it's called 'Superman meets 
Armageddon'."  Lois gave a somewhat sickly smile as she 
held up the glossy colourful packaging for Clark to see.

Clark walked closer.  Paul was clearly intent on the game 
he was playing, but there was no sense in giving him any 
extra clues as to the fact that he was actually in the 
presence of the real-life person whose animated figure he 
was deftly manoeuvring about the screen.  Taking the box in 
one hand, he peered down at the image of a stern-looking 
Superman hovering above the menacing red jaws of an 
erupting volcano.  Geesh, whoever had done the art work on 
this thing must have been hanging on his shoulder as he's 
stared into the maw of Solvan -- the artist had certainly 
captured the reality of the moment.  After a few seconds of 
deja-vu though, he dismissed the notion that the creators 
of this latest masterpiece of computer wizardry had any 
inside knowledge.

"Relax, sweetheart," he said quietly, yet confidently.  
"I'm sure it's just a coincidence."

Lois grimaced and displayed the brand name on the side of 
the slim cover.  "'Chen Software'," she whispered back.

"Roy Chen?!"  Clark blew a silent whistle.  "I didn't even 
know he did that sort of thing."

"He does, Dad," Julian confirmed, his voice also low as he 
stepped back from the cluster about the machine.  "He's one 
of the top players in the games market.  But he can't know 
anything!"  

Clark did a quick review of their time spent on the island, 
and decided Julian must be correct, because apart from that 
one appearance in the suit, when he'd been spotted by Mia 
Valliere, Superman hadn't shown up at the disaster on 
Papillon.  And, Clark would stake his life that the old 
lady knew how to keep a secret.  There was no way that 
anyone else who'd been involved with the eruption could 
have known that Superman had been there, if in his other 
persona.  Besides, Roy and Hazel had been witnesses to 
Clark's injuries -- they were hardly going to associate him 
with the Man of Steel.

"Lois, Julian's right."  Clark placed Nathan on the floor 
and the boy lost interest in the  adults' boring talk, 
squirming his way, instead, to the front of the little band 
to watch Paul deal with the fast-moving on-screen 
catastrophe.  With one eye glued to the evolving scene, 
Clark bent closer to his wife.  "This is just a 
coincidence.  Roy's used his own experience and turned it 
into a pretty realistic game... and Superman is the obvious 
hero to save the situation."

"And it gets more fantastic further on, Mom and Dad.  There 
are earthquakes, floods, tornadoes and just about every 
other natural disaster you can think of." Julian related 
what he'd managed to glean from Paul's quick run-through 
earlier.  "The idea of the game is that the world is out of 
control because of global warming and things and Superman 
is the only person who can save the world before it blows 
up."

"Armageddon!" Lois huffed.  "Does it remind you of 
anything, Clark?"

"Lois, keep your voice down!"  His eyes strayed pointedly 
to the teenager at the games machine as he took her arm and 
led her a couple of steps back from the group.  "It's only 
a game!  And, let's face it, Roy Chen can't know anything 
about Superman's origins... nobody outside the family 
does!"

"More than I'd like!"  Lois was still a bit upset that 
Bobby Bigmouth had worked out the dual identity.  Yet even 
she had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that Bobby could be 
very closemouthed when the occasion demanded, and she 
doubted that Clark had given Bobby the reader's digest 
version of his history.  "But I expect you're both right.  
Superman and world destruction sells games -- Roy Chen just 
jumped on the bandwagon."

"You gotta admit that the graphics are awesome!  Better 
than all the competition!"  That statement came from Joel, 
proving that while he'd seemed to be engrossed in the game, 
he'd been keeping one ear trained on his parents' and 
Julian's conversation.  He closed the gap to his mom and 
dad.  "I managed to speed through most of the game when 
Paul went to the bathroom and it's pure fantasy... nothing 
to tie Superman to anything that really happened.  Don't be 
worried, Mom."  

"If you'd like, Lois, I could ask Jimmy to sound out Roy.  
They still keep in touch with each other."

"Thanks, honey, but I don't think that's such a good idea; 
there's no point in alerting Roy if he doesn't already 
suspect anything.  I'm probably just being a bit paranoid!"  
Lois reached out to touch her husband and her sons.

Deciding that a little diversion was required here, Clark, 
raised his voice.  "Hey, guys, don't you say hi to your dad 
anymore when he comes home from a hard day at the office?"  
His tone was complaining but his eyes twinkled.  "I don't 
suppose that you boys would be interested in what I just 
managed to get my hands on today."  That piece of 
tantalizing information got everyone's attention and they 
swung away from the console.  Clark pulled an envelope from 
his inside pocket.  "Stu Steinbecker came through for me."  
The man in question was the new sports writer at the 
Planet.  "I'm glad you're here, Paul -- it saves me making 
a phone call."  The envelope was opened with teasing 
slowness and finally five pieces of treasured paper were 
waving in the air.  "Five tickets for Sunday's game -- The 
Metropolis Tigers versus the Dallas Cowboys!"

"Awesome!" repeated Joel, that being his 'phrase of the 
month'.

"You mean me too, Mr Kent?" enquired a fairly stunned 
teenager, gazing up at this man whom he'd come to rely on 
as a parental figure, his own father having been killed 
when he was very young.  His grandmother was a wonderful 
lady, but in this new environment Paul felt the need for a 
male mentor, and one who was nearer the age of what his 
father would have been.  Mr Kent seemed to fill the role 
admirably, and what was more, he seemed eager to take on 
the job.

"Of course, I meant for you to come, Paul.  And remember, I 
asked you to call me Clark.  If you're going to play school 
football then you should see it played properly, though I 
can hardly say that the Cowboys are good examples of the 
sport!" He snorted the last outrageously.

"Dad, you're prejudiced!"  Julian denounced laughingly.  
Having only been resident in the US for little more than a 
year, Julian still preferred the UK game of soccer, so he 
didn't have any strong allegiances to any particular team.  
"Actually he prefers the Kansas City Chiefs, but since 
they've been knocked out of playoff contention, he's 
supporting the Tigers."

A lighthearted discussion of the merits of the teams left 
in the contest ensued, until Clara interrupted with a 
petulant cry.  "What about me?  Is one of these tickets for 
me?"

Clark halted in mid-argument and turned to face his 
incensed Kitten.  "Oh, honey, I'm sorry.  I didn't think 
you'd be interested.  I just got tickets for Paul, Julian, 
Joel, Nathan and me."

"Nathan!" she complained. "He's just a baby.  What does he 
know about football?"

"Clara, don't be mean," warned her father.  "Nathan will 
enjoy the show, even if he doesn't understand the game."

"Yes, honey, and you've never shown any interest in 
football before today!" Lois was quick to remind her 
daughter, understanding only too well what the real 
attraction was to Clara attending Sunday's game.

"But I'll be left here on my own!"  Clara verbally stamped 
her foot.

Her father's eyebrows rose expressively.  "I doubt that, 
Clara; your mother is hardly nobody."  This last statement 
was uttered with a little more inflexibility than he 
usually employed on his daughter.He bridled when Lois was 
slighted by anyone, and he wasn't about to allow any one of 
his children to be disrespectful.  "And I'm sorry, but I 
thought this would be a boy's day out."  As he said the 
words, his eyes strayed to his wife, expecting to see a 
frown of disapproval... Lois didn't go for segregated 
outings.  Instead, he was surprised to see Lois trying to 
send him an unspoken message behind her daughter's head. 

"Maybe I could have a word with Stu and see if he can pick 
up another ticket,"  Clark suggested experimentally, 
shooting a glance at Lois to see if he'd picked up on her 
silent communique, but evidently his radar was off.  Lois' 
frown had deepened and her lips mouthed an adamant no, 
while her eyes passed back and forth eloquently between his 
daughter and Paul.  Oh boy, this was this 'crush' thing at 
work again -- Clark hadn't expected to deal with that until 
Clara hit her teenage years.  Maybe it would be best to 
backpedal here.  "But I'm pretty sure that would be a real 
long shot.  These tickets are like gold-dust." 

"I wouldn't bother, Clark," Lois cut in.  "The chances of 
you getting a ticket in the same place as you and the boys 
would be almost nil.  I'll tell you what, Clara, you and I 
will have a girl's outing.  It'll be fun!  We'll go 
shopping... or catch a movie.  The latest 'Star Legend' is 
supposed to be the best yet, and isn't the guy who plays 
the lead one of your favourites?"

This last offer surprised Clark tono end.  He knew just how 
much Lois despised these 'scifi-fantasy' movies, especially 
since this was around the eleventh in the series... they'd 
started to get pretty repetitive around episode nine.  
Usually, she allowed him to do kid-duty and take the family 
to see such blockbusters, so she was making quite a 
sacrifice for Clara.  Only Clara wasn't exactly seeing 
things that way.

"I suppose that would be okay," she sighed with a marked 
lack of enthusiasm.  "Though I still don't think you were 
very fair, Daddy, leaving me out like that."

"Sorry, Kitten, but you'll enjoy yourself much more with 
Mom!"

Clara's sorrowful face and dejected slump as she wandered 
out of the room informed her parents that this was 
certainly not the case... life just wasn't fair for young 
girls in love.  Her parents exchanged perplexed glances but 
were unsure how to deal with the dilemma, while the object 
of Clara's misery remained completely oblivious to the 
situation, as he and the boys returned to playing with 
their latest game.  This time Joel took over at the 
keyboard, and again one of the Kent siblings was causing 
his parents a little apprehension.  Lois and Clark could 
only hope that Joel wouldn't forget his control in the heat 
of the moment and use a little of the superspeed he was 
developing.

Yet one other pair of eyes followed Clara as she left.  
Julian always paid close heed of his sister's moods, and on 
this occasion a small smile turned up the corners of his 
mouth -- he had an idea! 

*****

Chapter Two
The Wicked Stepmother

The hospital was draped in its Christmas garlands in 
preparation for the coming holiday as the spinsterish, 
rather frumpy nurses' assistant stepped off the elevator 
and marched heavy-footed down the long corridor towards a 
particularly luxurious private suite.  How the hell did 
ordinary women manage with these clumsy, lace-up shoes, she 
mused frustratedly. 

This was the top floor of Metro General Hospital and here 
was housed the private suites that were available to the 
prominent and affluent citizens of this cosmopolitan city.  
The area was designed like a five-star hotel, to ensure 
that the guests were as comfortable and happy as could be 
expected while they suffered and, hopefully, recuperated 
from their illnesses, and paying, no doubt, exorbitant 
prices for the privilege.  Clearly, no expense had been 
spared, and the woman smirked as she continued her journey, 
appreciating the change in style from the floors below... 
even the decorations were up-market.

She halted by a room halfway down the passageway, checking 
the number on the door to make sure she'd reached the 
correct destination.  Yet before she entered, in a somewhat 
incongruous gesture, she smoothed her uniform over her 
lumpy girth and finished her primping with a pat to her 
mousy brown hair, making sure no strands had escaped the 
tight bun she'd adopted.  Satisfied that everything was in 
place, she knocked on the door and sidled inside.

The patient, an attractive man of middle-years wearing a 
cashmere robe, sat in a large chair by the wide window, a 
phone held to his ear as he chatted with one of his many 
society well-wishers.

"Thank you, Mrs Baker-Young.  I am feeling much better, and 
I got your pretty bouquet."  His eyes trawled round the 
room, trying to recall just which one she had sent.  
"Christmas roses?  Oh yes, the white ones in the cut-glass 
vase....  Oh, it's crystal!Of course, I knew that... 
lovely....And yes, I do believe that I shall be discharged 
this week... in plenty of time to attend your charity ball 
on Christmas Eve."  There was a pause while the man 
listened to his caller and pulled on the large cigar which 
was stuck between his lips.  "Mrs Baker-Young, I'm charmed 
to be considered your 'star guest', and I wouldn't dream of 
letting you down.  But I'm also surprised by your request; 
don't you usually ask Superman to fulfil that role?"  
Another few seconds passed.  "No kidding! Superman has made 
it known that he is declining to attend any social 
functions in the near future?  Though I don't know why I'm 
surprised -- he's hardly the affable type -- polite, but 
hardly the life and soul of the party... and he only stays 
for a short time.  You'll be much better off with me!"  
That was said with barely concealed pomposity.  

By the door, the woman couldn't hide a short snort of 
derision, and the man's attention was caught.  He gave the 
unprepossessing figure a long stare.  Scratch that last 
description, he decided -- the woman was downright dowdy 
with her ill-fitting uniform and untidy hair!Dismissing her 
from his thoughts as a complete nonentity, he turned back 
to the phone-caller.  
"Excuse me, Mrs Baker-Young... what?  Yes, of course... 
Eleanor!  Special guest and hostess should be on first name 
terms, and you must call be William.  But I really have to 
go.  One of the nursing staff is here to see to my medical 
needs....  Yes, it's very annoying, but I still have to 
take medication.  However, considering I'm lucky to be 
alive, I mustn't complain.  Goodbye for the present... 
Eleanor."  The man allowed his voice to linger over the 
name, employing the age-old ploy of seduction, when 
truthfully he felt like gagging.  Mrs Hyphenated-Hoity-
Toity was as dried up as an old prune.  His eyes strayed 
back to the nurse hovering inside the door and his mind 
rebelled.  Where were all the sexy young nurses?  Was he 
destined to be plagued by ugly, elderly crones?!

The ugly crone by the door had stood frozen to the spot at 
the patient's perfunctory scrutiny.  There was always the 
chance that he would recognise her, since they had been 
quite intimate a number of years ago, but thankfully only 
for a couple of days.  She doubted that her fortitude would 
have held up for much longer.  That had been a major 
triumph in her career, sending both male members of the 
Church family to prison in one fell swoop.  Pity her moment 
of glory hadn't lasted, and she promised herself that she 
would one day have her revenge on those who'd brought her 
down.

Meanwhile, she had another bone to pick... and this 
particular carcass was clearly wondering what she was doing 
in his room; yet, to her relief, he seemed to be 
experiencing only a mild curiosity.  Her disguise had 
proved effective, which wasn't surprising since she hardly 
knew herself in this unattractive, mousy-haired, plump 
woman.  It made even the sacrifice of dying her blonde 
tresses mud-brown worthwhile.

Reminding herself that she needed to concentrate on one job 
at a time, she fixed what she believed was a charming smile 
on her face and minced... as much as these 'flatties' would 
allow... further into the room.

"No medication this time, Mr Church.  I'm only a nurse's 
aide; I'm not qualified to dispense drugs, but I have 
brought your mail... and such a lot of it, " she grinned, 
even more cheesily, as if she was a little 'star-struck' by 
the suave gentleman.  "You have so many well-wishers and 
look at all these flowers."  Her hand gestured to the many 
bunches and baskets of flowers which adorned the room.  
Crossing to the bedside locker, she placed the bundle 
carefully on the top, letting her fingers caress the petals 
of some white roses.  "I love flowers," she sighed 
wistfully, adopting a subservient manner, and praying she 
wouldn't throw-up, "but unfortunately I can't afford to buy 
such lovely ones as these."

Bill Church instantly decided on an unlikely show of 
generosity for this little 'miss nobody' who would probably 
never be able to do him a favour.  Perhaps he'd caught the 
Christmas spirit... or more likely it was the fact that 
having a beholden contact inside a large hospital might 
just come in useful someday... you never really knew what 
the future held and it was best to cultivate these small 
insignificant contacts.  "Ms...?" he stared at her 
questioningly.

"Ms Kendall," she informed him in her prim gruff voice, so 
unlike her usual 'Lolita' tones.  She'd filched her new 
name from the hick town she'd ended up in, after her fourth 
change of routes on her precipitous flight from Metropolis.  
When she'd found herself so completely out of energy that 
she couldn't go on, she'd left the bus at the one-stop 
terminal and searched the town for somewhere to stay.  

Quickly discounting the only hotel which graced the main 
street, she'd eventually found her way to a tiny cottage 
where an ancient old biddy held life and home together by  
charging extortionate prices, whenever she could, for the 
let of a cubicle-like room out the back of her property.  
It had been private and off the beaten track, but the main 
attraction had been that the eccentric woman kept to 
herself and had an extraordinary aversion for any form of 
authority, including the local police.  It had been the 
perfect place for 'Ms Kendall' to lie low.

"Well, Ms Kendall, I'll be leaving here in a couple of days 
and I was going to donate these flowers to the rest of the 
hospital, as a show of appreciation for their saving my 
life.  I was critically ill, you know."  

Church was evidently dramatically proud of the fact that 
he'd faced and conquered death, yet his listener didn't 
rate his achievement.  She'd been ill too, and she'd 
survived by dosing herself up with aspirin and cough 
medicine, which she'd bribed her greedy landlady into 
buying for her.  It hadn't been a great time, but she'd 
come through it with even greater determination to bring 
her enemies down.  Nevertheless, as her charge continued 
with his confidences, she hid her peeved thoughts behind a 
carefully feigned concern.

"I'm sure the poorer patients will appreciate my generous 
gesture, don't you think?  But I doubt if they'll miss one 
bunch.  Why don't you take the roses?  Think of them as my 
early Christmas present to you for serving me so well.  And 
the vase is crystal, by the way."  

She would have loved to cram his pretentious words down his 
silken-cravat-clad throat and the crystal vase where the 
sun didn't shine, but instead she had to smile gratefully.  
"Thank you, Mr Church.  I and the rest of the ma... 
hospital staff and patients thank you for your gift."

The sardonic words 'downtrodden masses and secondhand 
presents' fought to escape her lips, yet she beat them back 
into submission.  There was no way she could afford to 
alert him to her true identity, and if her ideas came to 
fruition, he'd be laughing on the other side of his pompous 
face very soon now... or he wouldn't be doing anything at 
all.  But for her plan to work, he had to become used to 
her presence as a featureless but valuable attendant.  Only 
then could she have free range to his inner sanctum and 
thus find the proof she needed to send him back where he 
belonged.  While she, Mindy Church, the undisputed 
stepmother and head of Intergang, would retake her rightful 
place.

*****

Chapter Three
Cinderella, Mark Two

Lois Lane entered the newsroom of the Daily Planet alone, 
her purse swinging lazily from her hand, though she had 
left a couple of hours earlier with her partner to attend a 
boring press-conference given by the new mayor, Herbert 
Golding.  He wasn't a bad person, as far as politicians 
went, and his proposals for running the city seemed fair 
and honest, but he was so long-winded.  Lois had been glad 
when his speech had ended because she'd been very much in 
danger of falling asleep, and Perry would have loved that!

Thankfully, it had been a slow news week, which meant she'd 
been able to forge ahead with her preparations for 
Christmas.  Lois mused, as she strolled down the ramp, that 
it was very strange how people's perceptions changed.  
Years back, she would have been totally frustrated with 
such a long drought of good stories, and she certainly 
wouldn't have been looking forward to the Christmas 
festivities.

Of course, there was always the coverage of the messy pile-
up on the freeway leading north out of the city, which 
Clark had flown off to deal with.  He'd heard the emergency 
call as they'd been walking down the steps of City Hall, 
and he had shown some reluctance to go.  
The couple had made a pact some weeks previously, while two 
of their children had been critically ill, that Superman 
would restrict most of his attendances to life-and-death 
situations.  This multi-automobile accident, though fairly 
problematic for the rescue services, didn't appear to 
qualify, but for all that, Lois had sent him off without 
protest. Clark would be sure to finish his super duties in 
time to pick up his kids from school.

Since Joel and Clara had returned to Braeview School at the 
beginning of the month, either or both parents had met them 
at the end of their school-day, much to the children's 
irritation; they were far too grown-up to need baby-sitting 
on their way home.  However, the two kids had been 
persuaded by their Grandma Martha to indulge their mom and 
dad for a bit, as Lois and Clark were still feeling very 
raw from the trauma of almost losing them.  A compromise 
had been reached between parents and family and the status-
quo would be resumed after the Christmas break.

Lois just hoped that Clara would be polite to her father, 
at least.  The previous evening Clara had discovered she'd 
been left out of Clark's plans to take the boys to the big 
football game on Sunday, and, from that moment on, 
relations between Clara and her dad had been decidedly 
frosty.  Still, it was Christmas... what else could you 
expect from this season of the year?!

Down girl!  Lois firmly sent her 'Scrooge-like' attitude 
back into the depths of her closet where it definitely 
deserved to be -- Kent family Christmases had given her 
back her belief in magic, if you discounted last year, of 
course.  And that had been New Year which had brought the 
world crashing around their ears.  

Now, if she could be sure to make her Sunday out with Clara 
be the best ever, then Lois was pretty certain that her 
daughter would soon forget her bruised feelings  and 
forgive Clark his transgressions.  Daughter and father did 
argue occasionally; Clara was such a strong-minded little 
soul, but they were always quick to let bygones be bygones, 
and neither could resist the depth of love they felt for 
each other.  Quite simply, Clara was Clark's dearest kitten 
and Clark was Clara's own special hero.

And if only Clara would outgrow her crush on the teenage 
Paul Valliere....

The phone on Lois' desk started ringing, and she increased 
her pace to reach it before the caller gave up.  After all, 
this might be a hot tip -- she hadn't totally given up on 
her thirst for a juicy investigation.  Maybe a snitch had 
discovered some dirt on Metropolis' incorruptible Mr 
Golding.  Lois was pretty certain that someone in a senior 
position in city hall was definitely a spy for Intergang.  
Unfortunately though, she hadn't been able to find out who.

"Hi," she gasped, sliding into her seat and letting her 
purse drop into her bottom drawer.  "Lois Lane here."

"Hi, Lois!  Long time no hear," laughed the voice on the 
other end of the line.  "Can you guess who this is?"

A frown drew down Lois' brow for a few seconds -- the voice 
was familiar.  "Paula?!" Lois asked hesitantly.  "Paula 
Raine!"  The second statement was made with more certainty.  
She hadn't heard from the beautiful model-cum-spy since 
Paula had left town for NIA headquarters in Washington DC 
soon after Kiaya Olsen's funeral, and that was almost a 
year ago.  Why would the NIA agent be calling her now?  
Perhaps there was a story here; another terrorist attack -- 
Lois prayed not; a threat to national security.

"I should have known I couldn't fool Metropolis' sharpest 
investigative journalist."  The soft voice still held a 
smile, and Lois was beginning to think, with a tiny touch 
of disappointment, that this might just be a social call.  
"How are things with you and your gorgeous husband... and 
those great kids?"

"Fine, we're fine... at least, now we are.  But, unless you 
have a spare hour or two, I won't regale you with the 
happenings of the past year."

"Lois, you don't have to," Paula chuckled.  "I do read the 
newspapers.  Your family has had a really busy year.  
Imagine getting caught up in a volcanic eruption... scary 
stuff!"

"You could say that!  And that was only half of it; worse 
things can happen, believe me.  But enough about me -- what 
have you been up to?"  Lois really didn't want to get into 
a list of the various disasters that had beset the Kents 
during these last months, so she quickly changed the 
subject.  Besides, she'd developed quite an affinity with 
Paula when they'd worked together to bring down the 
terrorist gang who had blown up her children's school.  She 
was genuinely interested in catching up with Paula.

"Not a lot, compared to your adventures... and I'm the one 
who's supposed to be a government agent.  I went to work 
with Jack Olsen when he got back from Metropolis.  By the 
way, I was glad to know that Jimmy is back in Metropolis 
and that he's getting his life back on track.  That whole 
'Hand of Retribution' business hit him really hard.  Jack 
was truly worried about him for a time -- it was good to 
see my boss acting like a concerned father."

The elevator doors had opened with a ding while Paula was 
talking, and a large grin spread across Lois' face as she 
watched James Olsen kiss his girlfriend, Tula, goodbye.  
Evidently the pair had spent lunch together and, judging by 
the rapt attention they were paying each other, it had been 
a very pleasant lunch.  

"Yes, I think it's safe to say that Jimmy has got his life 
back together.  He definitely seems to be enjoying 
himself," Lois commented happily, swinging her chair around 
to give the couple some privacy, though kissing in the 
newsroom was hardly the place not to attract notice.  Mind 
you, Lois reminisced, it didn't really matter where you 
were when you were kissing the one you loved completely 
during that first bloom of new emotion.  Somehow the rest 
of the world just faded away.  She and Clark had been there 
a number of times themselves, and not just when they were 
youngsters.  They could still give their colleagues a show, 
on occasion!  "So, Paula, is this just a social call or do 
you have some information for me... anyone plotting world 
domination these days?"
  
"If there was, I wouldn't know.  I've been moved to a 
different department -- Jack got me a new assignment in the 
Protection Squad.  I didn't like sitting behind a computer 
in the research department.  I wanted something more pro-
active, and this latest posting suits me just fine -- I've 
been assigned to Ms Caroline Whitbread's entourage...."

"Wow!  The newly appointed US representative to the United 
Nations.  You're moving in important circles these days."

"Well, Lois, it is only in the protection detail... but, it 
so happens that she and I hit it off and she asked for me 
to be transferred to her staff for her term of office.  The 
NIA were pretty pleased to have an agent so close to the 
action, so they okayed the transfer.  I'm now her personal 
assistant and bodyguard -- which brings me to the reason 
for this call."

"You want me to print that you're working for her?" 

"No!  No way... and that wouldn't be much of a story.  I'm 
hardly newsworthy these days!"  

Lois could almost hear Paula giggle into the phone.  There 
was a time when this lady's photographs had fronted every 
glossy magazine there was, and her much publicised 
relationship with one of the world's richest and most 
eligible bachelors had been splashed over every society 
column.  Nevertheless, after the man had been arrested for 
terrorism and his subsequent suicide while in custody, 
Paula had somehow managed to fade into the background.  
Lois and Clark had assumed that the powerful 'behind the 
scene' hand of the NIA had orchestrated her retirement from 
the public eye.  It had appeared as if the super-model had  
dropped off the face of the planet, and the lovely -- they 
could never change that -- yet less stunning officer had 
returned to Washington DC to lose herself in the myriad 
paper pushers who worked for the agency.

"Do you miss the limelight, Paula?"  Lois asked 
diffidently, not wanting to open old wounds.  Lois herself 
didn't like to relive the experiences of the pervious 
Christmas period.

"What's to miss?!Wearing designer clothes and having to 
look immaculate all the time;  cameras flashing in my face, 
practically everywhere I went, and having most of the male 
population wonder if I was as good in bed as my appearance 
suggested.  Not to mention, making more money than I'd ever 
dreamed of doing.  I hated it!"  By now both women were 
laughing heartily and a few seconds went by before either 
was able to speak again.

"So, what is it you want to tell me?"  Lois was the first 
to return to business.

"Nothing Earth shattering I'm afraid," Paula informed her 
apologetically.  "However, I did remember our very first 
conversation where we discussed the fact that we were 
exasperated with the 'Man of the Year' award...."

"Are you telling me...."  Lois was quick to understand 
where this was going, and she pulled herself closer to her 
desk to search for a pencil and notepad.

"Lois, this is strictly off the record for now!" Paula 
warned.  "It's supposed to be a big, big secret, and I'd be 
out on my ear if it were discovered I'd leaked this 
information, but I thought it might give you a jump on your 
competitors if you had the story drafted beforehand."

"Paula, I promise... not a word will be printed until the 
announcement."  Actually, Lois could see the sense in that.  
The NIA wasn't the only one who'd be happy to have a 
contact in the UN, no matter how tentative it was.  Then 
she heaved a huge sigh of satisfaction.  "So the city 
fathers have decided to allow the female of the species a 
look in this year.  Maybe this administration isn't as much 
of a dinosaur as I'd thought!"

"I expect they thought that as Caroline Whitbread is a 
Metropolitan, and as she's been carving out quite a name 
for herself in the UN Security Council, she was worth the 
accolade."

"I'm not about to argue with that!  Thanks, Paula, for the 
heads up; Clark and I can get down to writing a profile 
right away, but I meant what I said.  We'll hold the story 
over till the Planet's morning edition after the ceremony.  
Even then we'll be the first with the news... most dailies 
go to print before the time of the announcement.  They 
might manage a segment, but the Planet will be the only one 
with the news in detail.  And don't worry about being our 
source, most of our rivals will just think Clark and I have 
done the research better than the rest... again!"

"So, can I expect to see you at the awards dinner?  I'll be 
there as a member of Ms Whitbread's staff."
  
"Not this year, Paula," Lois said with just a hint of a 
complaint.  To tell the truth, she hadn't been particularly 
bothered about missing this year's ceremony -- until the 
present moment that was.  Only, now that she knew who was 
to be the recipient of the award, she wouldn't have minded 
being present to watch the reaction.  She was sure that it 
would ruffle more than a few male plumages, and she would 
have enjoyed watching them hide their shock and 
disappointment, while trying to offer enthusiastic 
congratulations to the winner.

Then again, it would have been a bit of a blast to support 
the first woman to storm this previously male-dominated 
roll-of-honour.  Lois most certainly hadn't discarded her 
subscription to the feminist movement.

"That's a pity, Lois.  I thought the Planet always had a 
contingent present, and I was looking forward to catching 
up with you and Clark."

"They do, Paula, but it's mostly restricted to board 
members and senior staff.  We were invited last year to 
accept Perry's award for him.  But you will see Clark 
there; he'll be covering it for the Planet." 

"Isn't that a job for the society columnist?"

"Oh, she'll be there, but Perry always likes to send a 
'serious' reporter, in case of the unexpected... a bit like 
this year, in fact.  And Clark does human interest so well; 
he was the obvious choice."

"Couldn't Perry swing another ticket for you?" Paula 
quizzed, wondering if she could talk Caroline into 
procuring an additional invitation.

"Paula, do you know how much tickets to these celebrity 
bashes cost?  Even Perry isn't going this year, though that 
was his own choice.  Seems he has an anniversary party of 
the 'Elvis Impersonators Association' to go to, and that 
for Perry beats awards dinners every time!  Besides, it 
wouldn't matter even if he could have persuaded the board 
to come up with another entry fee.  I'm working!"

"Another big story?" Paula jumped to the wrong, though 
obvious conclusion, but why Lois should be working on her 
own without her husband, Paula couldn't quite imagine.

"No such luck!  Standing in for the Night Editor!"  Now 
that it was beginning to sink in that her husband was about 
to attend a glittering ball without her, while she presided 
over a dark and pretty lonely newsroom, Lois was becoming 
even more dejected.  "Our regular night editor had a 
coronary a few days ago, and, because it's so near 
Christmas, the board decided that it would be too much 
trouble to hire a temp at this time, which means the senior 
newsroom staff are all having to work double shifts.  I'm 
on duty the night of the ball, and as I've already asked 
for a swap to go to the kids' school Christmas show the 
night before, I can't impose again.  They're putting on 
their version of 'Grease', and Julian's gotten one of the 
main roles, so they'd be disappointed if their dad and I 
didn't turn up.  Besides, I'm just back from a leave of 
absence, so I doubt my credit rating is so high with the 
suits upstairs for me to go looking for favours again.  
Better to leave things as they stand."  As always, when 
Lois was upset, she tended to babble, but fortunately her 
listener followed her rushed conversation.

"Wouldn't Clark cover for you if you wanted to go?"

"Yes, he would.  But that wouldn't be fair."  Lois had 
quickly made up her mind that she couldn't ask Clark.  
They'd decided, after some deliberation, that he would 
accept the organisers' proposal for Superman to hand over 
the prestigious award, since he'd be present at the 
ceremony anyway.  Though Lois and Clark had wanted to 
distance the superhero from such social gatherings, they 
hadn't wanted to give the impression that he'd become 
totally standoffish.  Of course, Paula didn't know that.  
"The roster is up, and a lot of the staff around here 
already think that we get privileged treatment, so it would 
be better to leave things as they are."  

"So what will Prince Charming do at the ball while his 
Cinderella is working her butt off?"

"I don't know!  Mingle... meet up with some friends, and 
maybe pick up any interesting tidbits of news."  Lois could 
hardly expect Clark to lean up against a pillar all night 
looking miserable.  They might prefer to spend their 
leisure hours together, but they didn't live in each 
other's pocket, and Clark had long since given up on his 
lovelorn phase....  He was a very friendly guy!  "Dance 
with the 'ugly sisters'!" Lois muttered hopefully.

"I'll be sure to dance with him, Lois! And keep my eye on 
him." Paula quipped, not being able to stop herself from 
teasing a little.

Somehow, Paula Raine didn't quite meet Lois' criteria of an 
'ugly sister'.  "Thanks, Paula, I think.  But Clark is a 
big boy now, and he can look after himself, and we happen 
to trust each other completely."

A sultry giggle floated down the line to Lois.  "I know 
that, Lois.  I've never met a couple who seem so compatible 
as you and Clark.  Oh, and there was another reason I 
thought you might want to attend the party, Caroline has a 
relative, a second-cousin, twice removed or some such 
thing, who's an anchor on a New York TV news network."  Oh 
no!  Lois had a pretty good idea where this was going, but 
evidently Paula was completely in the dark.  "I think she 
used to be a college friend of yours... a Linda King.  
She's going to be there, covering the ceremony for her 
station, and I thought you would enjoy the chance to meet 
up again."  Another voice could be heard talking in the 
background to Paula, and she quickly came back to her 
friend with an apology.  "Lois, I'm sorry, I have to go.  
There's a big meeting at the UN this afternoon and I'm on 
duty.  We working girls never get a break!  I'll try to 
look you up when I'm in Metropolis, if I get a chance, but 
I have to say it's a quick stopover visit.  Bye for now, 
Lois, take care of yourself and the kids, and I'll be sure 
to chat to Clark at the ceremony. I might even be able to 
get him an interview with the 'Lady of the Year'!"

Then she was gone, and Lois was left holding the phone, 
giving a very good impression of the lovelorn!  At least, 
one of the ugly sisters was sure to be vying for Clark's 
attention.  

"Hey, Lois," Jimmy had finished his goodbyes to Tula and 
sauntered in Lois' direction when he realised she'd 
finished her call.  "You'll never guess who I bumped into 
at lunchtime."

"Don't tell me," Lois growled.  "One of the ugly sisters?!"

"Hey, Lois, don't shoot the messenger!"

"Sorry, Jimmy, I didn't mean to bark at you.  It's hardly 
your fault that Linda King is covering the 'Man of the 
Year' dinner."  Lois was very careful to give nothing of 
whom the winner might be away even to Jimmy.

"She is?!  Now there's a coincidence, because I just bumped 
into Cat Grant.  She's in town for the same thing.  Her 
celebrity TV show wants her to cover it.  I wonder what's 
got everybody so interested this year?"

The second ugly sister had just arrived!  Lois wasn't at 
first aware of the implications of Jimmy's question, as she 
was so engrossed in bemoaning the fact that both these 
predatory women would be homing in on Clark, and she 
wouldn't be there to protect him.  Logically, Lois had told 
Paula that Clark was perfectly capable of taking care of 
himself, but logic tended to fly straight out of Lois' 
window at the mere mention of the names Linda King and Cat 
Grant.

After all these years, the situation should have mellowed 
between these two women and Lois, but Lois only gave up her 
grudges with those she felt were deserving of forgiveness, 
and neither Linda nor Cat qualified.  

At one time, Ms King had entered into a much publicised 
'high society' marriage, which had, unsurprisingly in Lois' 
view, lasted only a meagre eighteen months.  Probably the 
poor man had become exasperated with his wife's calculating 
and manipulative ways.  The divorce had made as many 
headlines as the wedding, and it appeared that Linda King 
believed in the old adage 'once bitten, twice shy'.  
Besides, she'd done so very well for herself financially 
out of the whole process that she didn't need a husband 
now.

Cat had remained Cat!  She'd been a young, insatiable man-
hunter and now she was a middle-aged one.  She was 
certainly remarkably well preserved for her age, judging by 
her appearance on TV, and causing Lois to suggest that the 
woman must have an extremely competent plastic surgeon -- a 
remark which usually earned Lois a frown from Clark.  He 
still looked for the good in everybody, and Lois was 
prepared to admit, that of the two women, she preferred 
Cat.  At least with Cat what you saw was what you got, and 
she did have a heart somewhere under all her makeup and 
bizarre clothes. 

Jimmy had wandered off, but his words still lingered and it 
wasn't long before Lois' professionalism asserted itself.  
If both news programmes had sent their top anchor women to 
Metropolis, it must mean that word had spread that 
something unusual was going to happen this year.  Perhaps 
Paula wasn't the only 'leak' around.  Hopefully, the rest 
of the media didn't know exactly what that was, though 
there had to be a good chance that Caroline Whitbread had 
told her second cousin, twice removed, of her impending 
accolade.

But just why did that relative have to be Linda King?  Of 
course, there was always the possibility that Ms Whitbread 
didn't care much for her distant kin.  After all, Lois had 
always considered the UN Representative to be a fair, 
intelligent woman and one who wasn't easily fooled.  
Surely, she was  bound to have seen through Linda King's 
'charming' facade to the sneaky, conniving woman beneath.  

One thing was certain, both Linda and Cat, once they 
learned that Clark was on his own, would be bound to assume 
that he was their territory for the night, on the grounds 
of  their respective 'old' friendships.  Suddenly, 
Cinderella did want to go to the ball.  Only it was 
completely out of the question.

*****

Chapter Four
Letters For Santa-Superman

The afternoon had been as tedious as Lois had imagined it 
would be.  She'd churned out as interesting a report as 
could be expected on the press conference, but her heart 
hadn't really been in it.  Thankfully, Perry had accepted 
her copy with only a gruff comment that she hadn't had a 
lot to work with in the first place and that mediocre 
politicians didn't sell papers.  He'd marched back to his 
office grumbling that there was something wrong with the 
world when there were no tantalising scandals pending or 
big-time criminals planning to take over the city.  When it 
had eventually been time to go home, she'd quickly cleared 
her desk, switched off her computer and headed out before 
anything else could distract her.

A fairly demonic drive through the Christmas traffic did 
nothing to soothe her frustrations, and Lois entered her 
townhouse feeling tired, yet exceedingly grateful to be 
home.  She hung her coat on the rack and went to find her 
family, but came to an abrupt halt as she walked into the 
dining room.  Or perhaps that should have been, negotiated 
her way round the obstacle course which her living room had 
become.  

Stacks of mail bags littered the floor and made a haphazard 
trail -- like the breadcrumbs in 'Hanzel and Gretel', 
though these were considerably larger -- towards the dining 
room.  She watched the busy scene for a few moments as her 
husband and children sat around the table, each with a 
mound of letters in front of them, which they were opening, 
reading and placing in separate bundles in the centre of 
the table.  Nathan, of course, was simply going through the 
motions, copying his dad and his siblings, while Superman, 
surreptitiously, checked over everything he did.  

"Hi, honey!"  Clark smiled in her direction, his hands 
stilling on a large envelope which he quickly discarded 
after a cursory glance....  Even after all this time, he 
occasionally received a 'certain' type of mail from sad, 
lonely and pretty sick people.  Lois just hoped that Clark 
had super-scanned the mail before allowing his children to 
help.  Somehow the idea of her kids finding sexy underwear 
inside a letter sent to their father did not amuse her, 
though, when she thought about it, it would probably make 
her kids die laughing.  "Sorry about all the mess.  I got a 
frantic phone call from the Post Office asking if I could 
get in touch with Superman and get him to come pick up his 
mail.  They apologised for insisting, but the Christmas 
rush of letters and parcels has meant they're quickly 
running out of space.  With everything that's happened over 
the last few months, Superman kinda forgot to drop by, so 
there's a whole lot more than normal, and the kids offered 
to help."

"Don't we get any dinner?" Lois asked, her stomach starting 
to protest.  She'd only managed to pick up a sandwich on 
her way back to the office from city hall, and she'd eaten 
that at her desk.  A nice 'Clark-cooked' meal would have 
gone down very well.

"I ordered pizza, Lois, so I didn't have to cook.  I 
thought the sooner we got started with all this," he said, 
indicating the clutter of mail sacks, "the sooner it would 
be done and we could get our house back to normal, but an 
extra hand would be appreciated."  He added one of his 
irresistible smiles to his latter suggestion.

"Yeah, Mom, it's fun.  Pull up a chair and give us a hand," 
Joel recommended with a huge grin, while a letter shook, 
uncontrollably, in his hand.  Clearly the contents were a 
hoot.  "Dad, are you available for Christmas Eve?  This 
man's desperate.  His wife is threatening to throw him out 
if he can't get Superman for her stocking this Christmas!"

And just as Lois surmised, Joel burst into a fit of red-
faced childish giggles followed by his siblings, though 
Lois did notice that Clara was more subdued than usual.  Oh 
dear!  It seemed Clara hadn't given up on her huff 
completely.  Still, she was joining in with the family's 
activities and that was progress.

"Give me that!"  Lois snatched at the offending missive 
and, crumpling it up into a ball, threw it in the direction 
of a large cardboard box which was already filled with 
similar rubbish.  However, she did sit, while her eyes 
pierced Clark with an accusing stare.  "I thought you might 
have censored this lot first, before allowing the kids free 
reign with it."

"I did, Lois," Clark protested, "but it's hard to catch all 
the freaky mail.  I was really looking for... for 
particular items."

"What, par...tic... ooler 'tems?" Nathan asked, with all 
the curiosity of a bright three-year-old.  Santa presents?" 
he added with a touch of inspiration.

"No, baby!  Though I'm sure we'll find some of those in all 
this.  Why don't you come and sit with me, and we'll open 
some letters together."  Lois patted her lap as she spoke, 
and the toddler jumped down from his seat, causing his 
mother a moment's trepidation, and scampered round the 
table to end up sitting on her knee.  Lois settled him 
comfortably and turned back to Clark.  "Okay, give me a 
pile then."

Ever helpful, Clark hurried into the living room and, 
picking up a bulging sack, returned it to Lois' side.  
"There you go, honey!  We're opening the letters first and 
the parcels second. Superman should have plenty of time to 
distribute most of the presents to hospitals and orphanages 
before Christmas.  But I know what a fast worker you are, 
and I'm sure we'll get finished a lot more quickly now 
you're helping out!" 

His only reply was a derisive snort from Lois, though she 
did busily start checking mail, asking what the stacks in 
front of her signified before consigning letters to their 
correct bundle.  Nathan would occasionally halt her 
progress at the sight of any colourfully drawn messages, 
which mostly came from children.  On the whole, however, 
the family worked well together, chatting about the 
contents of the more interesting letters.  Thankfully, 
there seemed to be no more repeats of the 'Superman in a 
Christmas stocking' type of request.

Julian chose a padded packet and perused the envelope for a 
few minutes.  The 'sender's' address told him it was from 
Metropolis General Hospital and these items were getting 
preferential treatment.  He opened it quickly and drew out 
a small audio-tape, along with a single-page note.  
Scanning the written message, he quickly spoke up.

"Dad, you might want to take a look at this one.  It's from 
a nurse who works in the Burns Unit at Metrogen.  She's 
sent you a taped message from one of her patients."  He 
held up the micro-cassette.
 
Clark looked up from his own reading to see his son with a 
piece of white notepaper in one hand and a tiny plastic 
object in the other.  "Do we know when it was sent, 
Julian?"

Julian checked the letter again.  "The beginning of 
November, Dad!"

"That long ago!  I suppose the patient could be out of 
hospital by now," Clark surmised.

"Not necessarily, Clark!  Burn injuries usually take a long 
time to heal... especially if the patient needs skin-
grafts," Lois countered, deliberately not voicing her 
second thought in front of her children, which was that the 
patient might not have survived.

"I suppose there's one way to find out."  Clark held out 
his hand to receive the missive and tape and Julian passed 
them over then left the table to hurry into the living 
room.

"The letter's from Nurse Kominski and she says that this 
teenage boy was very anxious to pass this message onto 
Superman.  The boy's burns are critical and she hopes that 
Superman will get the tape soon and come to visit him in 
the hospital."

"We should listen to the tape!  Julian, I think the 
recorder's in the top drawer of the desk, could you bring 
it?" Lois called, but her request was preempted by Julian, 
who was already placing the desired object in front of his 
dad.  "Thanks, Julian," she said with a smile.

Meanwhile, Clark fitted the tiny tape into the machine, his 
untroubled actions making it fairly apparent to Lois that 
Clark hadn't shared her fear that the boy's story might not 
have a happy ending.  Her husband was always the optimist!  

"Clark!"  Her expressive glance at the children coupled 
with a distinct nod of her head towards the stairs, 
conveyed her worry that perhaps they ought not to be 
listening. 

"Lois?!"  

Clark didn't quite agree with what Lois was inferring.  It 
would do the children good to hear from a youngster who was 
ill and in hospital; make them realise that there were 
children in this world for whom Christmas wouldn't be the 
best of times.  Besides, Clark had already depressed the 
start key and within a second those around the table sat in 
silence while the disembodied voice of an adolescent boy 
drifted threadlike into the room.

'Superman, my name is Ben and first I'd like to say thank 
you for saving my life....'

There was a collective gasp at that statement and Clark was 
tempted, momentarily, to switch off the machine, but 
decided to let the message play itself out and ask the 
where and when questions later.  And he had saved Ben's 
life, so that was good.  Maybe he'd suggest that the kids 
pool their allowances to buy this boy a present and visit 
him... after Superman, that was.

'I was one of the kids you pulled out of the 'Gateway'.  
You know, the refuge for runaways.'

Here the tape fell silent for some seconds and the 
listeners feared that this was all there was, but evidently 
the boy, Ben, had just needed a few moments to gather his 
strength.  Nevertheless, his voice, when he started 
speaking again, seemed even more fragile than before.

'I'd hidden in a cupboard to escape the flames... but they 
told me you'd found me and carried me out....'

"I remember," Clark whispered, reliving the horrifying 
moment of seeing the blackened body, huddled into a ball.  
It was a miracle the kid had survived.  Clark was beginning 
to get the uncomfortable notion that perhaps Lois might 
have had a valid point about the children,  but the voice 
was continuing and Clark returned all his attention back to 
what was being said to the superhero.

'I'm alive, thanks to you... and I shouldn't be.'  There 
was a noise that sounded distinctly like a gulping sob, 
then another pause before Ben had the courage to go on.  
'Other kids died!  Because of me....'

"Poor boy, he's clearly delirious," Lois empathised, but 
she shushed when Clark put a finger to his lips.

'I did it!  I set the firebombs!'

"What?" Lois almost shouted, while she was joined in chorus 
by various comments of amazement from her kids.

"Quiet!"  That particular tone of voice came from Superman, 
and for long moments there was complete stillness as 
everyone sat frozen, waiting for more.

"Is that it?" Joel eventually ventured.

He was answered only by a sharp shake of his dad's head, 
and Clark's raised hand warned them all to remain silent.  
Tiny wrenching sobs echoed round the room, but whether they 
were caused by the boy's physical pain or his mental 
trauma, no one could quite know....  Perhaps it was a 
mixture of both.  Finally, the voice began again, so low 
that everyone leaned over the table top to hear it.

'It was me who started the fire.  I did it for money!  I 
was fed up being kicked around; being hungry and lonely.  I 
thought having money would make me someone!  It made me a 
murderer.  I didn't mean for those kids to die....'

"What did he think would happen in a broken-down rabbit 
warren like that centre?" Lois asked, her anger bubbling 
nearer to the surface.  Only she wasn't quite sure who she 
was mad at... the boy, or the system that had abandoned 
him.

Clark pressed the off button.  "Lois, I know this is hard 
to take, but could we listen to the whole tape before we go 
making judgments."

He glanced round at the blanched, wide-eyed faces of his 
children and wondered if he should send them upstairs 
before switching back on.  This was very upsetting stuff 
for young kids to hear.  Lois had been right, and if he'd 
thought that the taped message was anything other than a 
teenage boy thanking his superhero for giving him back his 
life, he would have sent them away earlier.  Now that 
they'd heard the first, shocking part, it seemed a 
pointless exercise, and, given what they'd been through in 
the past, his children were less shockable than most others 
of their age.  Nathan was his only real worry, yet he 
doubted that the toddler really understood much of what had 
been revealed.  Besides, Lois was cuddling him in close, 
and rocked in his mom's comfortable embrace, the little boy 
seemed to be drifting off to sleep.

"Come on, Dad, play the rest of the tape," Joel coaxed.  
"You can't expect us not to hear the rest of it!"  

Clark's lips curled up at the edges in a tiny smile; it 
seemed his children knew him only too well.  "Okay!" he 
conceded and started the recorder once more.

'Maybe I'll die too... the docs don't know....  They don't 
say nothin', but I can see it in their eyes.'  Ben's breath 
had become more laboured, but it was clear to his listeners 
that his determination to finish his message had grown  
stronger  'Nurse Kominski will be in here soon, taking this 
recorder away.  I have to tell you Superman, 'cause you 
tried to save me, I know who's behind this thing."

There was another sudden intake of breath from Lois.  Could 
this at last be the break in their stalled investigation 
into Intergang that they were needing?!

'The guy never told me his name, but I recognised him....  
I've been on these streets since I was twelve years 
old....'  Coughing sounds interrupted his confession.  

Ben was, obviously, very ill, and Lois wondered if the boy 
would have the stamina to continue.  She exchanged a 
distressed, questioning glance with her husband.  How could 
a kid so young slip so completely through the Child-
Services net this way?  Yet, Clark had mentioned that many 
homeless youngsters frequented that shelter.  Superman had 
even tried to help, but most of these kids, for one reason 
or an other, mistrusted authority... even superheros.

As Lois pondered why Ben and so many others had run away 
from their families to seek refuge on the lonely, tough 
streets of Metropolis, Clara too was thinking hard.  Her 
mom and dad might not always let her do what she wanted to, 
but she couldn't imagine living her life without them.  
They did what they did because they loved her and cared 
about what happened to her.  Clara couldn't imagine 
anything that would want to make her leave the safety of 
her home.  She was a whole lot luckier than this Ben, and 
she decided there and then to cut her dad some slack.  A 
silly football game wasn't worth fighting with Dad over.

But both Lois' and Clara's introspection was broken off 
when Ben's voice issued from the recorder again, and they 
put their own considerations behind them to hear what he 
had to say.

'I'd seen the guy around before he came to me about this 
job.  He works for 'the bishop'.  I know he does!'

Oh no, Clark groaned internally, were they about to come up 
against that brick wall again?

'He's an older guy...  an 'explosives man'; the best in 
Metropolis, I've heard them say.  I remember his name 
too....  Joe the Blow they call him.  His real name's Arlo, 
I think... came from Atlanta before working here....'  
There was another painful groan, then a small pause.  'You 
catch him, Superman....  You make sure he pays... for all 
these kids who died... and for me.'

The tiny hissing sound of the tape-recorder continued for a 
few more seconds until the machine clicked off.  Ben's 
message was complete, and he'd given them another link in 
the chain, and one that just might lead them to Bill 
Church.

Yet no one here felt like crowing.  There was just a 
feeling of overwhelming regret and hopelessness for the boy 
who had finally tried to right the wrongs he'd committed 
and, perhaps, at such cost to himself.

Minutes later, Clark shook himself out of his sorrowful 
trance.  "I think Superman needs to pay a visit to Ben.  
See if I can get him to talk to the police.  At least, he's 
given us Joseph Arlo."

The ringing of the doorbell cut off Lois' answer and she 
changed tack.  "Clark, that'll be the pizza delivery.  The 
kids and I can see to that.  You get out of here and go see 
Ben.  Be gentle, honey, I think that poor kid has paid a 
high price for his crimes."  She smiled gently at her last 
words, realising all too well that Clark or Superman would 
never be anything other than compassionate, especially with 
a child who was hurt and suffering.

"Okay!  Lois, kids, I'll be back as soon as I talk to Ben 
and straighten this out.  Be good for your mom!"  Their was 
a mini-hurricane as Superman appeared, then sped round the 
room giving each of his children and his wife a hug and 
kiss.  Somehow, he needed the physical contact with those 
he loved.

*****

Chapter Five
An Unexpected Good Fairy

On the way over to Metro General, Superman decided that, as 
he didn't know Ben's surname, his best course of action 
would be to enquire for Nurse Kominski in the burns unit.  
Even if she was no longer working in that department, 
surely the staff would be able to point him in the right 
direction.  She in turn, he hoped, would be able to take 
him to see the boy.

He alighted on the roof of the large high-rise, reflecting 
despondently that he'd become far too familiar with this 
area while Joel and Clara had been hospitalised.  Thank 
goodness they'd recovered, and he prayed that the same 
could be said of Ben.  It was true that the adolescent had 
been responsible for the fire, yet Superman contended that 
Ben's bitterness and despair at his miserable way of life 
had been exploited by the true criminals. Superman also 
strongly believed in second chances, and this youth already 
appeared contrite.Hopefully, Ben would get the chance to 
make amends for his crimes.

At least the youth had gained some protection from the 
flames by hiding in that dark cubby-hole, and Superman had 
reached him in time.  Yet, from what Clark had been able to 
determine at the scene of the fire, the state of the boy's 
injuries were such that his survival would have been a case 
of touch and go.

He was certainly about to find out the truth of his 
conjecture as a quick scan of the building told him that 
the 'Burns Unit' was on level two.  With a short burst of 
speed, he was soon hurrying through the stairwell door 
towards the reception area.  The two nurses behind the high 
desk looked up at his approach and a welcoming smile lit up 
the face of the older one.

"Superman, it's so good to see you," she announced, her 
voice matching the brightness of her smile.

Zooming in on her name-tag, Superman returned her smile, 
remembering to keep it pleasant but not over-friendly -- 
after all, he was here in the suit and he had a persona to 
maintain.  Yet for all that, he was extremely happy that 
his search had proved to be unnecessary.

"Nurse Kominski, this is a coincidence.  I was hoping to 
find you."

"And I'm so glad you did, if your visit is about Ben 
Kershaw.  I've been hoping you got my letter and Ben's 
tape."  Nurse Kominski had walked round the station counter 
and come to stand in front of the superhero.  The woman 
barely came up to the famous S-symbol on his chest and she 
tilted her head to look directly into his face.  "The poor 
boy's been asking almost daily if I've heard anything from 
you."

A wave of relief swept over Clark.  "Then he is still 
alive?"
 
 "Yes, he is!  We had our doubts at one point -- he has 
third-degree burns over more than 60% of his body and he 
was in our intensive care unit for quite sometime, but that 
young man is a fighter.  As soon as he was conscious and 
aware, he kept insisting that he had something to do, which 
is where you come in."  The nurse touched Superman's arm 
and indicated a pair of doors a little way down a corridor, 
which she started walking toward.  "I'm his 'assigned 
nurse' and he kept on and on at me to fetch him one of 
these tiny tape-recorders.  Ben got himself in such an 
agitated state about it that I borrowed my daughter's; she 
had one when she was a student, but now she's working she's 
updated to a new even tinier machine... I just can't keep 
up with all this new technology.  But back to Ben; he told 
me had something very important to tell Superman, but he 
was very mysterious, and, to this day, he hasn't told me 
what the message is about.  At first, I thought it was just 
a big thank you for getting him out of that building...."

"Only now you're not so sure?"

"Well, he does ask constantly if I've seen you, and since 
he's been getting stronger, he's even suggested that I go 
up to the roof and scream 'Help Superman'!"  Nurse 
Kominski's broad face, spread wider in an abashed grin.  
"And do you know, if you hadn't turned up, I was seriously 
considering it, Ben's been so persistent."

"You're right in thinking that Ben's message is more 
important, but I'd rather not say anymore about that until 
I've spoken to him.  I am sorry I've kept him and you 
waiting so long, though.  Your packet was held at the Post 
Office along with my other mail...."

"I can imagine you get quite a lot of that," she said with 
some amusement.

This lady seemed to be very nice -- perceptive too, and, 
from the way she was discussing Ben, a very kind-hearted 
soul, willing to go further than her duty demanded to see 
to a patient's welfare.  Superman thought that the boy had 
been very fortunate to end up under her care. 

"Yes, you could say that," Superman agreed with feeling.  
"And, regrettably, I get so caught up with my other duties 
and emergencies that I can't pick up my mail as regularly 
as I'd like.  I'm sorry, but I only read your message 
today, and I came immediately."  

Clark felt uncomfortable as he felt the woman's astute gaze 
on him.  Was she wondering which duties he was referring 
to?  Lately, Superman had actually cut back on many of his 
patrols and mundane tasks, and that must have been apparent 
from his less frequent appearances on the TV news reports.  
He just hoped that the public didn't start asking 
questions.  But it seemed that his suspicions about this 
particular member of the public were unfounded.

"Please, Superman, don't think that I'm complaining," she 
soothed, laying a friendly hand on his arm.  "You do a 
wonderful job, keeping us all safe from harm, and the world 
is such a big place.  I'm sure you have a life of your own, 
too.  We're just grateful for what you can do, and I'm very 
grateful that you made time to come and visit Ben.  He'll 
be thrilled."
 
Geesh, this lady thought that Superman was even entitled to 
a private life.  Maybe, he'd been overanxious about the 
community's view on this matter, but he put his own 
feelings behind him as the nurse punched out some numbers 
on a keypad and the double doors they'd been heading for 
slid open with just the smallest of sighs.  It was the same 
system that had been used on his children's isolation ward.

"We keep the doors locked because burn injuries are 
susceptible to infections and we don't like unauthorised 
personnel passing in and out all the time.  Happily, Ben is 
no longer in the intensive care unit, but he is in a ward 
where he's highly monitored.  He's improving, but he still 
has a long way to go.  He could need more skingrafts.  
Actually, the new grafting techniques are probably 
responsible for the survival of more badly burned patients 
like Ben.  Just a short time ago, someone with Ben's 
injuries would have stood very little chance of pulling 
through.  But patients still need a lot of care for a 
considerable time.  Our young friend isn't in the clear 
yet."

The mention of Ben needing a lot of care brought up another 
question is Superman's head.  "Nurse Koninski, can I ask 
who's paying for Ben's care?"

"Well, technically, Ben is only fifteen, which makes him a 
minor, so the 'Child Protection Services' are responsible 
for his welfare, but they would pay out only for the 
basics.  However, since it was reported in the media that a 
number of children were saved from that ramshackle home by 
Superman, we've been contacted by the Superman Foundation 
who've promised to provide a substantial contribution 
towards those children's medical expenses.  It's something 
they do for those who've been rescued by Superman, if no 
one else can provide the funds... but why I'm telling you 
that, I have no idea, because you must know that already."

A bemused Superman watched his escort turn down a short 
passageway and stop by another door.  To tell the truth, 
Superman was only generally aware that some sort of 
financial arrangement was in place, but he was extremely 
glad to hear it.  Such things came under the jurisdiction 
of the 'Superman Foundation' and he very rarely interfered 
in its running. 

That had been one of Superman's better ideas, many years 
ago, when he had hired Murray Brown as his representative 
and merchandiser, though it had felt like a pretty risky 
venture at the time, considering Murray's smarmy, money-
grabbing image.  Yet, the arrangement had proved to be a 
good one, after Superman had thrashed out a contract with 
the man and made it clear that all proceeds had to go to 
charity, excepting his agent's commission, of course.  
Underneath Murray's brash exterior had lurked a shrewd 
businessman, and one who was a lot less greedy and kinder 
than he appeared.

Over time, the small organisation had evolved into the 
'Superman Foundation' and new, younger and more 
academically qualified staff had been recruited, though 
Murray still liked to keep an eye on the proceedings, 
having learned through his long association with the 
superhero just which projects were acceptable and which 
should be discarded.  To everyone's surprise Murray had 
become the conservative chairman of a respected charitable 
organisation and even his loud sportscoats had disappeared, 
not to mention his gaudy ties which had rivalled Clark's 
own, though Clark liked to think that his were more 
tasteful.

"Superman?!"  Nurse Kominski had stopped by the door and 
was waiting patiently for her companion to catch up.  Clark 
pushed his thoughts aside and joined her.  "I expect you 
know that burn victims don't look so good.  In Ben's case 
most of his burns are to his back, legs and hands.  Which 
isn't unusual because most people instinctively try to 
protect their faces, if they can.  He's still housed in one 
of our specialised anti-bacterial units -- it's just a bed 
with a protective plastic curtain which allows us to 
control the air, humidity and temperature around the 
patient.  They look a bit frightening, but they're very 
beneficial for the patient."

"Thanks for the warning, Nurse Kominski, but do you think 
we can go in now?" Superman requested with another friendly 
grin.  This chatty woman could rival Lois' babble genes.

"Yes, of course.  Ben is so anxious to speak to you, and 
I'm sure you're a very busy man."

The door was opened and Superman ushered inside.  As he 
stepped very quietly into the room, barely touching the 
floor, he couldn't help but be reminded of the time when 
Joel and Clara had lain in a couple of these hospital beds, 
but there the similarity ended.  This room was larger and 
there were a few patients in this room, all within the 
protective shield of their plastic cocoons.  

He followed the nurse to the unit in the far corner by the 
window and at her beckoning came closer to the bed.  He 
heard her pull the screens around the area to give them 
some privacy, while his eyes swept over the boy behind the 
plastic.  Fair stumpy hair sparsely covered Ben's head; the 
last time Superman had seen it, it had been blackened and 
charred.Ben was sleeping and in repose his face was fresh-
complexioned with a fair sprinkling of freckles, yet 
Superman could discern the lines of pain which were etched 
unnaturally into his skin.  Pressure bandages covered a 
vast expanse of his body, and the hero's sensitive heart 
was touched.

"Nurse, he's sleeping!  Maybe we shouldn't wake him... I 
can come back later."

"And have Ben throw a fit when he finds out you were here 
and I didn't wake him.  He'll be much better if you talk to 
him, Superman," the kind woman sought to reassure the Man 
of Steel.  Clearly, that was a misnomer, Nurse Kominski 
thought, as she caught the stricken look on the hero's 
face.  "Believe me, Ben can sleep later."

Nodding his head, Superman waited while the nurse bent down 
to the curtain, slipping her hand through a plastic tube to 
touch a small patch of healthy skin on the boy's arm with 
infinite gentleness.  "Ben!  Ben, my dear."  Her voice rose 
a little higher.  "You have a visitor!"  The youngster 
stirred a little.  "It's who you've been badgering me about 
for ages.  Don't you want to say hallo?"

As her information penetrated Ben's sleep-fogged mind, his 
eyes opened wide, and Clark noticed they were a startling 
blue.  "Superman came?" he asked, his voice tense as he 
tried to raise his head from his pillows to look around 
him.
  
Clark stepped even nearer to the bed.  "I'm right here, 
Ben."  

The boy's head turned towards the blue-clad figure by his 
side, his intense gaze sweeping up the large frame until it 
reached Superman's face.  For a long drawn out moment the 
two held each other's stare.  "You must hate me," Ben 
whispered at last.

Clark's breath almost caught in his throat at the depth of 
self-loathing in the low voice, but he composed himself to 
reassure this tragic young man, and to discover if Ben 
would be willing to repeat his information to the police.  
"I don't hate anyone, Ben."  Actually, that wasn't strictly 
true; there had been a few evil adversaries in the past who 
had managed to incite that emotion in Clark, but Ben 
certainly wasn't one of them.  "Superman doesn't work that 
way.  Besides, from listening to the tape, I believe you're 
already sorry for what you did."

Nurse Kominski quietly watching the exchange between 
superhero and boy, realised that her hunch had been 
correct.  Whatever these two had to say to each other, it 
was more significant than a simple thank you.  "Would you 
like me to leave?" she interrupted.  "You both might want 
to talk privately."

"No!" Ben sounded quite distressed at her suggestion.  
Through all his pain and suffering, this kind nurse had 
been close by his side, comforting him and encouraging him 
to keep fighting when all he'd wanted to do was to give 
into the nothingness that was calling to him.  She reminded 
him of how it had been with his mother, once upon a time.  
It was strange that he'd finally found someone to care for 
him just when he'd done something that put him well beyond 
the boundaries of deserving her friendship and trust."I 
need you here.  You've been good to me, you have a right to 
know what I've done... who you've been helping...."

"I think what Ben is trying to say is that he needs a 
friend to help him through this," Superman added 
sympathetically with another smile... much warmer this 
time.

"Then I'm not going anywhere," she announced and pulling up 
a chair, she verified her words by sitting down 
determinedly on its hard surface.  "I'll stay as long as 
you want me, Ben."

"That's the problem," Ben tried to choke back a groan but 
with only partial success.  "You won't want to stay with me 
when you hear what I've done."

Ben's voice tailed away, and again Nurse Kominski 
instinctively touched his arm through the protective 
curtain to offer him her support.  "Ben, I've already told 
you that I'm your friend, and friends don't run at the 
first hint of trouble."  

This competent and compassionate nurse remembered the 
training and advice she'd been given when she'd started out 
on her long career, stating that medical staff should never 
become personally involved with their patients, but somehow 
she'd never quite managed to adhere to that unwritten rule.  
And especially not with this poor boy; she'd recognised 
that his was a troubled soul and her heart had been 
touched.  She'd do whatever she could to restore Ben's 
health and his belief in himself and the human race.  
Perhaps with the help of this man standing on the other 
side of the bed, who was so well known for his love of 
humanity, they just might pull it off.

Superman folded his arms across his chest but relaxed his 
stance.  "Ben, I haven't come here to judge you, but you 
have information that could put some very bad men in prison 
-- men who cruelly used you and then abandoned you.  Now 
you have a chance to set the record straight.  Will you do 
that?"

"But if I do, I'll be sent to prison too."  Now that the 
issue of his living wasn't quite so questionable, Ben's 
instinct for self-preservation was reasserting itself.  "I 
know I deserve it, but I'm not sure I'd be able to get 
through a jail stretch."

"Ben, you're a minor, and they don't send children to adult 
prisons," Superman countered steadily, his tone more 
reminiscent of Clark's when he was remonstrating with his 
own kids.  "And if you help the police catch these men, 
then I'm sure some arrangement can be made with the 
authorities.  I know that I intend to stand by you...."

"And me, Ben!"  Nurse Kominski said with feeling.

Ben's gaze strayed from one to the other and he was 
reassured by what he saw because slowly, yet determinedly, 
he began to repeat the message from the tape.  When he 
confessed to placing the firebombs, a startled 'oh' could 
be heard from Nurse Kominski, but she didn't flinch.  
Instead she increased her gentle pressure on Ben's arm, 
telling him that she was no 'fair weather friend'.  The 
youth smiled in gratitude and continued with his tale.

When Superman was sure that Ben was finished, he leaned 
closer to ask the very important question.  "And you're 
sure the man who gave you the instructions and the 
incendiary devices was Joseph Arlo?"

"Yes!" Ben nodded.  "But there's something else I know."

"Can you tell us, Ben?"

"The night after Arlo contacted me, I saw him meet up with 
another guy... don't know who, mind you.  I only caught a 
glimpse of him, but he was a well-dressed dude.  It was 
late and I'd gone uptown to see if I could beg some dough 
off the rich crowd; they're always more generous after a 
fancy meal and a few drinks.  Anyway, I saw Joe Arlo 
hanging about on this street corner and this big limo comes 
up and stops right in front of him.  The door opens... this 
guy leans out, they talk for a minute and then Joe slips 
into the motor and it drives off."

"Would you recognise this man again, Ben?"  Superman almost 
held his breath in anticipation of a further revelation.

"I think so!"

 "And if I brought a friend of mine here, who happens to be 
a policeman, you'd be willing to tell him all this too?"

There was a tiny pause.  "Yes!" again Ben stated 
emphatically.

"Good boy!"  Nurse Kominski was smiling, as proud of Ben as 
she was of her own children.  Though they'd both grown up 
now and had busy lives of their own -- they didn't need her 
they way Ben did.  "I knew you'd do the right thing."
 
Superman uncrossed his arms and stepped back.  Now that 
he'd heard the teenager's story he was beginning to be 
afraid for Ben's safety.  In fact, he was surprised that 
Church and Arlo hadn't tried to take out this material 
witness before now.  Of course, it would be difficult 
getting to Ben with all the specialised security in this 
department of the hospital, but not impossible for two 
ruthless killers.  

Could it have been an oversight?  Bill Church had certainly 
been otherwise engaged.  He'd been exposed to the virus at 
its most virulent stage, though no one had ever been able 
to find out how that had happened and Church himself had 
never been forthcoming.  However, he had been seriously ill 
for some period, so perhaps he'd forgotten the kid's 
existence, or, more likely, assumed that Ben had died.  

Still, that didn't account for Arlo's lack of action.  It 
could be that he was out there somewhere just waiting to 
see what happened to Ben.  And one thing was definite, both 
men would try to silence Ben the minute they realised he 
was a threat to their continuing freedom.

"Ben, I'm going to leave now, but I'll be back soon.  I'm 
going to bring Chief Inspector Henderson here to talk to 
you."  Superman hesitated momentarily.  He wished he didn't 
have to frighten Ben, but this kid was streetwise and he 
knew the score.  It was better to get this out in the open.  
"You do know that the minute it becomes known that you've 
spoken to the police that you're going to be a target, but 
both the police and I are going to make sure that no harm 
comes to you... and you have my word on that."

"I believe you, Superman!"  Ben smiled at the hero with 
something approaching trust, a sentiment which he thought 
he'd lost long ago.  Now he had two people, Nurse Kominski 
and Superman, who had his best interests at heart.  The 
knowledge was new and intoxicating.

Nurse Kominski stood up, drawing attention to herself.  
"Superman, I think you'd better go and do what you have to 
do.  I'll hold the fort here until you can get back with 
the cavalry.  I have a couple of friends in security here 
at the hospital and I'll get them to patrol the floor until 
the police take over.  Don't you worry, Mr Arlo isn't going 
to get past me!"

Clark was tempted to smile at the small bristling woman, 
but he didn't dare.  He believed her.  Nurse Kominski was 
just as formidable as Lois!

"Thanks, Nurse Komiski!  You two hold on.  This won't take 
long."

*****

On leaving the hospital, Superman had flown home to pick up 
the tape and to give Lois a hasty update on Ben's 
confession.  She was satisfied to hear that the boy was 
willing to testify against Arlo and positively ecstatic to 
learn about Arlo's meeting with the rich dude in the large 
limo, whom Ben could possibly identify.  Had it been Bill 
Church, and did that mean that they were closer to getting 
him than they had ever been?

Still, she did appreciate that the teenager's life was in 
extreme jeopardy now that he'd spoken to Superman.  Without 
delay, she sent Clark off to speak to Bill Henderson, who 
could be guaranteed to organise a reliable operation to 
protect the boy.  The Chief Inspector was one of the few 
policeman in the city in whom Lois had a lot of faith, 
though she wasn't about to tell him that.  And if things 
went well, then Lois was hoping for an extra, unexpected 
Christmas present:  William Church Jr finally being 
convicted of the crimes he'd committed.

Superman's first port of call was MPD headquarters, but 
when he found no sign of the Chief Inspector's presence, he 
headed off to the man's home.  Evidently Chief Inspectors 
worked more civilised hours than the lower ranks, and 
throughout his career Bill Henderson had devoted many long 
hours attempting to keep Metropolis safe for its ordinary 
citizens.  He was entitled to a more regular existence.

Setting down on a quiet suburban street outside a white-
painted wooden house, Superman knocked on his old 
acquaintance's door.  Within minutes the door swung open 
and a surprised policeman surveyed his visitor.

"Superman!  This is unusual, but please come in."  
Henderson stood aside to let the large form of the hero 
pass him by.  He couldn't recall the Man of Steel ever 
visiting him at home before now.  Whatever brought him here 
must be urgent.  Bill leaned into the family room to 
address his wife.  "I'm sorry, Ethel, I'm going to have to 
leave you for a couple of minutes.  I've got a bit of 
business to attend to.  I'm sure it won't take long."  

Superman was directed down a small hallway to the den and 
offered a seat.  "I'm sorry to intrude into your home life, 
Bill, but something important's come up... something I'm 
sure you'll be interested in."  He spoke gravely, hoping to 
convey a sense of urgency.  "And also, I needed someone 
with your authority to set up a protective screen as soon 
as possible."

"You're asking me to take someone into protective custody?"  
Bill sat down in his favourite comfy chair opposite his 
guest.  "Knowing you, I take it you have good reason.  So 
are you going to tell me who and why?"

"I'd like you to listen to something, Bill.  It came to me 
today with my regular mail."  Superman pulled the tape-
recorder from his hidden pocket and started the little 
machine once more, steadily watching the other man's face 
as Ben's admission unfolded.

Bill Henderson hunched forward in his seat, his eyes fixed 
to an old stain on his faded carpet as he assimilated just 
what he was hearing.  Ethel wanted to get rid of his old 
friend the chair and lay a new carpet, but he was content 
with things the way they were.  The tape was clicked off 
and he asked for it to be replayed.  As it ended, he lifted 
his head to meet the firm gaze of the superhero.  "You've 
talked to this boy?"

"Yes!"

"You believe him?  And he'd be willing to stand up in court 
and repeat his testimony?"

"Yes... and he would!"

Henderson stood up abruptly, his voice and demeanour filled 
with motivation, testament to the amount of trust he'd 
accrued over the years for this 'alien' who'd come to live 
amongst them.  "Then what are we waiting for?  Can you fly 
me to Metro-General, Superman?  I'd like to meet this kid, 
and I can arrange for a guard detail from the hospital."  
The policeman strode out into his hall and grabbed his 
heavy overcoat -- flying with Superman would be cold on a 
night like this.  Once again he opened the door to his 
living room.  "Ethel, I'm sorry, but this could take a 
little longer than I thought.  It's real important though.  
I'll be back as soon as I can."

As Superman scooped Henderson up into his arms and turned 
in the direction of the hospital, he grinned inwardly.  
Somehow that last statement sounded very familiar.  Beneath 
them, Ethel Henderson sighed resignedly and switched her 
attention back to the movie she was watching.  She'd always 
known that her husband couldn't stick to his nine-to-five 
job.  Bill just couldn't keep away from his work when he 
felt he was needed.

*****  

Chapter Six
One Dastardly Villain and A Santa Elf

Thursday morning had seen a sweeping change in Ben's 
position in both importance and locality -- he had lost his 
anonymous status as just another poor victim of the Gateway 
fire.

Henderson's first session with the boy might have been 
brought to a premature halt by Nurse Kominski's insistence 
that her patient needed to rest and that the interrogation 
should continue the next day, but the Inspector had heard 
enough to know that this youngster was a key witness.  With 
that in mind, Henderson had arranged for Ben to be moved to 
a room of his own and had placed him under a strong police 
guard.

Actually, the nurse's protective aggressiveness had amused 
Bill since the interview techniques he'd employed on Ben 
had been considerably mild.  He might be an old hard-bitten 
officer of the law, but, in view of the boy's injuries, he 
just hadn't been able to treat the juvenile as a hardened 
criminal.  

At an early hour next morning, Henderson returned to Metro-
General to check that the security screen was in place and 
that his men understood the gravity of the situation.  
Henderson's instincts told him that this witness could help 
bring down one of the biggest crime-syndicates ever to 
control the city... maybe even Intergang itself.  He didn't 
want any of his team getting careless.

There was also his examination of said witness to complete, 
but he soon discovered that this would have to take second 
place to the medical one which was being carried out when 
he arrived.  Then he was informed by yet another dedicated 
medical attendant, Nurse Kominski not yet having come on 
duty,  that Ben would need some time to recover from his 
treatment before he faced another ordeal.

So it was that Henderson was hanging around, cradling a cup 
of over-strong coffee, when Lane and Kent appeared on the 
floor.  Their arrival didn't in any way surprise the 
policeman.  To tell the truth, he would have been more 
amazed if they'd stayed away.  The view given to the public 
would be that the two reporters had been informed of the 
pending break in the arson investigations by their friend 
Superman, but Bill Henderson knew differently.  He'd 
realised a couple of years ago that the man walking down 
the corridor towards him hid quite a secret behind the 
conservative suit and glasses.  Not that Bill ever intended 
to tell anyone, or Lois and Clark either.  He'd decided 
they had enough to concern them without the additional 
worry about his letting the cat out of the bag at any time.
 
Nevertheless, Bill Henderson was willing to play their 
game, and he pushed himself out of his chair and went to 
meet the couple.  "Hi there!  I was wondering when you two 
would show.  The big guy let you in on this?"

Never one to pass up an opportunity for misdirection, Lois 
said airily, though in this case she wasn't totally sure it 
was necessary, "Yeah!  In fact, I'm surprised he's not 
here, keeping watch over the boy."

Personally, Bill thought that Clark did enough, what with 
his two jobs and his young family to look after, without 
having to spend the night on guard duty.  "Nah!  He and I 
talked about it last night, and I assured him that he could 
leave it to the professionals -- after all, that's what we 
get paid for!  Believe me, Lois, there's no way that Arlo 
is going to get through my men."

"I'm sure Superman has every faith in the MPD, Bill," Clark 
remarked, joining in with just the merest touch of irony.  
He too had a pretty good idea that Bill Henderson knew 
exactly who he was speaking to, and pretty soon he was 
going to have to sit down and have a little chat  with the 
Chief Inspector.  This had definitely been the 'Year of the 
Revelation'.  Only you couldn't really refer to most of 
them as revelations because it turned out that the majority 
of these people had known about his 'secret' for years.
  
"Hopefully we know how to do our jobs, Clark, and I have 
got my best men on the case."

"Then you've put out an APB on Joseph Arlo?" Clark asked, 
hoping that the bomber was now in police custody but 
knowing that realistically things didn't pan out quite so 
easily.  He'd considered spending last night searching the 
sleazier side of the city, but was aware from experience 
that without any clues to assist him such an action was 
futile... unless Superman got lucky, which was hardly ever 
the case.

"Right after I talked to the kid last night.  There's been 
no results so far though."  Henderson took another sip of 
his now cold coffee -- it tasted a whole lot worse than it 
did when it was hot.  Pity he couldn't ask Clark to heat it 
up for him!  The container and its dregs were tossed in a 
handy trash can.  "Come on, guys, I need a refill, and I 
need to talk to you about Arlo." 

The trio wandered in the direction of the drinks dispenser.  
"What can we do for you, Inspector?" Lois enquired pertly.  
Over the years of their association, she and Henderson had 
sparred with each other, though both had mellowed with 
time.

"You can let me buy you a coffee," Bill replied with just 
the same amount of sass which Lois had employed.

"Is it drinkable?"

"Just about, Lois, just about."  Henderson turned to feed 
the machine with coins and handed out the cups after they'd 
filled up with the steaming liquid to his companions.  "I 
could do with your help with Arlo."

Lois sent a covert look in the direction of her husband.  
Just what was Henderson asking?  If he did know Clark's 
secret, was he requesting Superman to join in the search?  
Clark's next tentative question told Lois that his thoughts 
matched her own.

"What sort of help?"

"Well, it occurred to me that the best way to protect Ben 
is to find 'Joe the Blow' just as fast as we can.  Now I 
have every available man in my force out looking for him, 
but so far we've had no luck.  We need the public in on 
this... make it that no matter where this man goes someone 
is going to recognise him, and hopefully contact the 
police.  And that's where you come in."

"You want us to print his picture and the story?"  Lois 
looked thoughtful.  "But won't that send him underground."

"There's always that chance.  But, first thing this 
morning, I got in touch with the insurance companies who've 
had to pay out on the fire damages and they're willing to 
put up a reward for anyone who can give us information that 
will lead to Arlo's capture... and you can print that too.  
Now, you and I know that there's little honour amongst the 
criminal fraternity.  I'm betting that someone will see the 
opportunity to earn a little extra Christmas bonus.  I want 
to tie this city down so tight that the guy can't move 
without someone spotting him."

"We couldn't get it out in print till the evening edition, 
though our online publication could be updated pretty 
speedily."  Lois stared into the dark mud that represented 
coffee in this place.  She bit at her lip, then lifted her 
eyes to the Inspector.  What she was about to suggest was 
tantamount to sacrilege, but a young boy's life was at 
stake here.  "Maybe you should contact LNN.  They could 
splash his picture all over the news bulletins almost 
immediately and they'd reach a wider audience than online."

Henderson regarded Lois with something akin to awe.  "I 
never expected the great Lois Lane to suggest that she 
should be scooped.  But thanks, Lois.  I've already got it 
covered, but it means something to know that you approve."

Lois shrugged and ground out with a faint touch of her old 
belligerence, "So I've turned an emotional corner through 
the years.  Even I'll admit that some things are more 
important than my career!"

A genuine smile crossed the Chief Inspector's face.  "I 
guess we've all changed some along the way.  And, if you 
don't mind my saying, Lois, with you it's definitely a 
change for the better.  You're a lucky man, Clark."  

The three grinned a little sheepishly at each other.  
Mutual admiration between Lois and Bill was not quite the 
normal state of affairs.  Everyone was relieved when the 
embarrassing moment was interrupted by Henderson's sergeant 
announcing that the doctor had given permission for them to 
visit Ben.

"Come on, let's go talk to the kid!  Find out if his story 
is still the same as last night.  If you're going to write 
this up then you'd better hear what the boy has to say... 
get your facts straight.  Though maybe Superman's filled 
you in already?" 

Clark straightened his tie nervously.  Was it just his 
imagination or was Bill making more than the usual pointed 
remarks?  "As a matter of fact, he played us the tape, but 
yes... we'd like to find out more.  See how Ben's doing."

"Good!  That's good," Henderson nodded, then said 
ambiguously, "The kid got to you too!"

*****

Joseph Arlo stared at his copy of the Daily Planet with 
eyes which threatened to consume the paper with fire.

*Have You Seen This Man?*

The banner headline screamed at him while the image of his 
face gazed enigmatically back at him.  They hadn't even 
used a good photo!  These police mugshots were horrendous, 
but it was a good enough likeness for any member of the 
public to recognise him.  And in this neck of the woods you 
couldn't trust any low-life not to cash in on the reward. 

The best thing he could do now was to get out of 
Metropolis, which was pretty funny because he'd just 
arrived back in the middle of the night.  He'd been glad to 
disembark from that rusty bucket of a boat, since he'd 
spent most of the horrific journey being seasick in his 
bunk and praying that the damned ship didn't sink.

Leaving the docks in darkness, Arlo had found his way to 
the nearest hotel whose tariff would be within range of his 
meagre funds and checked in for the night.  Tomorrow he 
would get back to his apartment on the more affluent west 
side of the city where he'd find some cash.  Yet for one 
night, thankful to be back on dry land, but with his 
stomach tossing around as if it were still out on the 
ocean, he'd flung himself into the lumpy bed and slept the 
sleep of the dead.

He'd wakened late in the afternoon feeling slightly better 
and, after a shower in lukewarm water which was the best 
the hotel had to offer, had decided that something to eat 
might do him some good before he made his way home.  
Relieved to be on the final leg of his journey, he'd left 
the dirty little room and found the nearest cafe, picking 
up the latest newspaper at the corner stand.  

Arlo had ordered himself a burger with fries and a large 
mug of black coffee, then sat back to read his paper and 
catch up on what had been happening in Metropolis since 
he'd been gone.  The last thing he'd expected was to find 
himself the focus of the lead story and that the police 
were looking for him in connection with the arson attacks 
in Hobbs Bay.  

How the hell had that happened?  The only person who could 
finger Joe the Blow was that damned boy, and his life had 
been hanging by a very thin thread.  When the urgent call 
had come for Arlo to get back to Atlanta, he'd checked 
things out at the hospital and with his contact in the 
police.  It had seemed a sure bet that Ben wasn't going to 
survive.  Yet, the only other person who could testify to 
his involvement in the crimes was Bill Church and he 
wouldn't point the finger -- not without incriminating 
himself anyway.  No!  It had to be the kid!

He prided himself that he was a professional and didn't 
leave loose ends lying about, but it seemed that this time 
he'd messed up, and now he was in as deep as he'd been in 
Atlanta.  The local cell of Intergang had needed him to 
take out some opposition but somehow there had been a few 
crossed wires concerning the location of the meeting place 
and an innocent bunch of college grads partying in the 
'wrong' bar had been killed instead.

The Atlanta gang boss had ordered him out of the city... in 
fact, out of the country, preferably to some place which 
didn't have an extradition treaty with the US.  He'd headed 
for Cuba, but Intergang had seen fit to with-hold his 
payment for the botched job and paid only his travel costs.  
Within a few weeks he'd run out of dough and not rating the 
life of a down-and-out in a country where he didn't even 
speak the language, he'd found his slow way back to 
Metropolis on that godforsaken tramp steamer.  Now he was 
beginning to wish he hadn't. 

Joe the Blow sank lower into his chair and pulled his coat 
collar up around his neck as a pimply waiter dumped his 
meal on the table.  He buried his head behind the newspaper 
and only grunted an acknowledgement to the guy.  When he 
was left alone he regarded the greasy food with a sense of 
dread.  Suddenly his nausea had returned and he wasn't 
hungry anymore.  But he couldn't draw undue attention to 
himself, so he began picking at his meal.

What was he to do?  One thing was definite, he couldn't 
risk returning to his apartment; the police would probably 
be staking it out.  So that meant he couldn't get access to 
the money he'd left there, which meant he was broke!  And 
that would make getting out of the country problematic.

He thought he'd give South America a try this time... 
Bolivia, or Columbia!  Yeah, Columbia sounded good.  Even 
with the new government clean-ups, the drug barons weren't 
giving in without a fight.  They always had a place for a 
good hit man, especially one with his expertise in 
explosives.  And if there was nothing doin' in Columbia, he 
could move on.  Yeah, there were a lot old mafia-type 
families down in South America, not to mention a few 
corrupt regimes who'd be only too happy to offer him a job.  
The trouble was, he couldn't get there without money -- 
money to buy him a forged identity and passport because he 
didn't plan on taking another ocean trip on another leaky 
bucket!

But there was someone who could help him... someone who had 
lots of money!  After all, he hadn't been paid for the last 
job he'd done for Church yet and it would be in Church's 
best interest to help get the one man who could snitch on 
him far away from Metropolis.

Of course, Bill could always resort to 'killing off' his 
former employee, but the crime boss was no 'hands on' 
murderer.  Unlike Bill Sr, the son was too squeamish to do 
his own dirty-work.  Junior was the product of an indulged 
childhood.  How he ever managed to run the Metropolis 
branch of Intergang was a mystery!  Still, it probably 
wouldn't be long before the 'chief of staffs' discovered 
just what kind of idiot they had in control of their branch 
here in the city... or what type of double-dealing cheat 
the younger Bill was.

Joe had no doubt that the fool was most likely skimming off 
more of the profits than a 'branch organiser' was entitled 
to and Joe would have no scruples in using that piece of 
information to persuade Church to help him.  But for his 
own safety, it would be best if he could meet up with 
Church Jr man to man, without any of his security guards in 
tow.  He just had to plan how to do that, and that nice 
little secretary out at Church's mansion, whom he'd been so 
careful to cultivate, would be the right person to arrange 
that for him.

Now that he had a plan, Arlo found that his appetite was 
returning and he quickly finished his food, picked up his 
bag, which now held his only wordly goods available to him, 
and went to find a pay phone... cell phones were much too 
easy to trace!

*****

Clark was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches to 
his icing on the rich-chocolate yule-log cake which he'd 
baked from a new recipe his mother had found in a UK 
cookbook.  His wife still hadn't lost her excessive love of 
chocolate, so he'd taken the chance of concocting this 
special surprise while Lois was working late interviewing 
Mayor Golding.  They'd both been extremely surprised and 
pleased that she'd secured the first interview with the 
politician since he'd taken office.  Mind you, she'd joked 
that she'd probably have difficulty staying awake during 
the interview, but Clark could tell she was over the moon, 
knowing that she still had the reputation to win out over 
the competition.

The kitchen door swung open and Julian wandered through.  
"Hi, Dad, what ya doin'?"

Julian had been in the US for almost eighteen months and in 
that time he'd picked up most of the Americanisms it was 
possible for a nine-year-old boy to.  It was kinda funny, 
though, to hear them repeated with the very upper-class 
English accent which still clung doggedly to Julian's 
speech, and Clark had to hide a smile as he listened to the 
boy's question.  He was aware that occasionally the other 
kids at school made fun of his adopted son because of his 
weird way of talking, a circumstance which would have 
worried Clark more, had he not known that Julian already 
had two unshakable champions in Joel and Clara -- and they 
were 'Johnny on the spot'.  Joel showed every sign of one 
day becoming a defender of the those in need... and heaven 
help any kid who riled his kitten!  She had claws as sharp 
as her mother's when it came to protecting her own.  But as 
he smiled thoughtfully at the small figure in the doorway, 
he realised the boy was awaiting his answer.

"I'm making a surprise for your mom.  So be careful and 
don't let the cat out of the bag!  I thought you were 
upstairs with the others playing with the 'Superman Saves 
the World' game."

"I was, but I gave my place up to Nathan... well, actually 
Clara's helping him.  I thought I'd come and hang out with 
the real thing!"

Clark's eyebrows rose wryly and his grin widened as Julian 
came closer and pulled himself up onto the high stool by 
the kitchen counter, studying Clark's creation.

"Chocolate, huh?  You spoil Mom, Dad!"

"Yup!  I do!" Clark replied with twinkling eyes.  "But you 
know, sometimes it's fun to spoil those we love."

"I think so," the boy agreed with a sage expression on his 
face that warred with his youthful age.  "I thought I'd 
like to spoil someone I... care about a lot!"

Julian was still at that age when the word 'love' was a 
little difficult to say, especially when applied to a 
girl... and with this particular girl, he wasn't quite sure 
of what feelings he was supposed to have.  He only knew 
that making her happy made him happy.

Sprinkling powdered icing carefully but liberally over the 
dark chocolate cake to represent a dusting of snow, Clark 
regarded his son closely from out the corner of his eye.  
He had a fair notion of who Julian was speaking about, but 
had no idea what the child was thinking of.

"What's on your mind, Julian?"

"Dad, I really think you're great, you know... and it was a 
terrific idea...."  Julian stared at his father as if 
trying to infer that he was the luckiest boy in the world 
to have a dad like Clark.

"But?"

"But..." Julian stalled for a moment and then rushed on.  
"I hope you won't mind an awful lot if I give up my ticket 
for this Sunday's game to Clara.  She really wants to go... 
and it's not as if I'm that keen on American football... 
though it is growing on me, Dad, a bit.  But Clara would 
enjoy it much more than me!"

"Julian, take a breath!" Clark instructed, as his son had 
given a very fair impression of his mother in full flight.  
"That's a very selfless idea, but you know, Clara isn't 
that much interested in football either," Clark finished up 
with a slightly puzzled look on his face, wondering how two 
of his kids could not actually be enthusiastic about the 
game -- though Clara was a girl and probably took after her 
mother in that department, and Julian hadn't been brought 
up on the sport like the other boys.

"I know that, Dad."  Julian's voice came back very low and 
Clark had to strain to listen.  "She just wants to go to be 
with Paul Valliere!"

Evidently, Julian was pretty clued in to his sister's crush 
on the teenager, which prompted Clark to pry a little 
further.  "How do you feel about that, Julian?"

Lois and Clark had talked of their shared suspicions about 
Julian's feelings for his adopted sister -- not that they 
had any worries for the moment, but these two wouldn't be 
kids forever and both feared that there might be some 
heartache waiting around the corner for Julian.  To tell 
the truth, neither were quite sure of the legalities 
regarding adopted siblings forming romantic relationships 
and, since the whole problem seemed a long way off in the 
future, they'd decided to shelve the problem.  But one 
thing they were certain of was that presently, Clara looked 
on Julian as just another one of her brothers... sometimes 
a best friend and partner-in-crime, but sometimes a very 
annoying pain in the butt!

"I feel sorry for Clara, Dad.  Paul doesn't see her as 
anything more than a kid!"

"Which is exactly what she is to Paul, Julian.  She's just 
another member of the family who happens to be the closest 
friends he has in this city."  Clark leaned his elbow on 
the counter to face his son.  "You can't blame Paul for 
that -- he's seven years older than Clara, which is a whole 
lot when you're a teenager.  And he's a good-looking guy... 
and I'd say that semi-French accent of his is very 
attractive to the opposite sex.  Paul probably has a lot of 
girls his own age who're vying for the chance to go out 
with him."

"Which leaves Clara way out in the cold!  So what should we 
do?"

"Just be there for her when she realises that her case is 
hopeless, and she will!  Clara is a bright girl, but she is 
only a child, and she'll probably have quite a few crushes 
-- just as you will -- before she grows up and finds the 
person she really wants to spend the rest of her life with.  
You never know, it might be someone she sees as a best 
friend -- your mom and I were best friends long before we 
got together."  Clark felt a little ambivalent at the hope 
that flared in Julian's eyes at his allusion.  Lois would 
probably consider that wasn't the wisest thing he could 
have told Julian.

"A crush!  Dad, I don't have a crush on any girl...."  
Julian sounded like the idea came straight out of 'looney 
tunes'!  "Apart from Clara, I can't even talk to them."

Well, that was a relief.  One lovelorn child was enough for 
Clark to handle.  "That's okay, Julian.  I think I felt 
pretty much the same way when I was your age, though I 
didn't like the other boys pulling Lana's pigtails... or 
making fun of Rachel's freckles."

"You were a hero even then, Dad," Julian chuckled, feeling 
much more comfortable now that the conversation had wavered 
from his own confused instincts.  "It's the same reason I 
want to give my ticket to Clara.  I don't like to see her 
miserable... especially at Christmas.  And you know, Dad, 
the more time she spends with Paul, the quicker she might 
realise that he sees her only as a little kid....  There's 
nothing makes Clara madder than being treated like a baby!"

"Julian, you're smarter than you look!"  Clark dusted off 
his hands and squeezed Julian's shoulder.  "But you don't 
have to make any sacrifices you're not comfortable with."

"To tell the truth, Dad, I'd really like to see the 'Star 
Legend' movie with Mom....  If you think she won't mind 
taking me instead."

"Okay, if you're sure, and, Julian, I think Mom would be 
delighted to be squired by a handsome young man like you!"  
Clark ruffled his son's fair hair.

This made Julian blush and burst out laughing in 
embarrassment.  "Dad, don't be stupid!  Now, is this thing 
finished?" he asked, gesturing at the delicious log-shaped 
cake before them, his mouth beginning to water at just the 
sight.  He might not have imbibed Dad's love of American 
football, but he had definitely acquired his mother's love 
of chocolate. 

"Just about!"  Clark deftly picked up a couple of sprigs of 
holly and red berries made from the most delicate sugary 
icing and placed them on the cake.  "There, how does that 
look?"

"Great!  Now where are you going to hide it until Monday?"

"Over at Grandma Martha's.  I'll sneak out the minute your 
mom gets home, if you'll cover for me."  Clark winked 
conspiratorially at the grinning boy.

"I'll say there was a call for Superman... which isn't a 
lie because you're probably thinking of travelling at 
superspeed.  But you'd better put that cake in a 
container... it would be a pity if it got vaporised after 
all your hard work!"

"Good idea, son!"  Clark went over to the cupboard to find 
one of those plastic storage boxes.  "You know, Julian, 
since you'll be missing out on Sunday's game, I could ask 
Stu Steinbaker to get me a couple of tickets for that 
soccer game in the New Year.  England and the USA are 
playing a friendly game here in Metropolis -- a return game 
for the one they played in the World Cup this year.  What 
would you say if we made it just for the two of us?"

"Awesome, Dad!"  Julian's smile brightened up his whole 
face.  One small boy had just learned the meaning of the 
saying that giving brought its own rewards!  

*****

Stepping away from the trashed public phone booth -- he'd 
had a hard time finding one in the area that actually 
worked -- Joe Arlo contemplated his options.  He'd hoped to 
steal a car and drive up to Church's property later this 
evening where that cute secretary would let him in by the 
back door and he could have a nice private little chat with 
his employer.  But he'd now discovered that that wasn't 
going to happen as Bill Jr was presently living elsewhere.

Whoever would have thought that the guy, not to mention his 
closest henchman, would have caught that mysterious bug 
which had hit Metropolis at the end of October, just before 
Arlo himself had left the city?  He'd never imagined the 
virus had been so contagious... or so dangerous, but it 
seemed Church had been seriously ill, and that must be true 
if he was still recovering in MetroGen.  At least, pretty 
little Pammy had given him her boss's floor and room 
number, so finding his way to Church wouldn't be a problem.  
It just irritated him that the meeting had to take place in 
such a public venue.

And thanks to that kid Ben blabbing his mouth off like 
that, the hospital was bound to be crawling with cops.  
Possibly that big flying 'bug' in tights might be hanging 
around too, as those reporters Lane and Kent had made it 
known that he was taking a personal interest in the case.

What he needed was a disguise, but he didn't have anything 
suitable with him... unless you counted a couple of loud 
Hawaiian shirts and baggy shorts he'd picked up in Cuba, 
and he hardly thought that those would enable him to blend 
in with the majority in this freezing snowy weather.  He 
required something that wouldn't look out of place in a 
hospital... something like a nurse's uniform, but he had no 
idea where he was going to get hold of that.  He certainly 
didn't want to take the chance of acquiring one at the 
hospital.  The way his luck was going he'd probably run 
into a policeman the minute he stepped through those big 
glass doors.

No, he needed something more inspirational.  Maybe he'd be 
able to steal something out of one of those charity 
stores....  Wait a minute, wasn't there a Salvation Army 
depot a couple of blocks from that hotel?  Now, they always 
had second hand clothes to give away to the down and outs 
of the streets, and he doubted if those chronic 'do-
gooders' had many alarms installed in the building since 
there wasn't much to steal and they most likely placed 
their trust in the hands of the Almighty!  Let's hope that 
this night the Almighty might just be on the side of the 
'fallen'.  And if his luck changed then maybe he could kill 
two birds with one stone.  Of course he had no intention of 
killing the bird that laid the golden egg... but the other 
'songbird' was a whole different story!

*****

Chapter Seven
No Honour Among Thieves and A Wicked Witch Takes Advantage

The next morning dawned clear and cold.  It was the day of 
the children's school play and Lois and Clark had a 
difficult time holding down the children's excitement and 
pre-show nerves.  Actually, both Lois and Clark remembered 
when the musical had reached almost cult status in the 
1970s, and they were very intrigued just to see what sort 
of US teenage gang- member their little English gentleman 
would make.  Though, from reports from the drama coach, it 
did appear that Julian had some acting and singing talents 
which had so far gone unnoticed in the family.  

Clara had been a little jealous of her brother stealing the 
limelight, but even she had to admit that Joel's and her 
own absence from school had made it impractical for them to 
be anything other than in the chorus-line.  And since 
Julian's offer last night for the Christmas Eve football 
game, Clara was only thinking good things of her brother.  
Now she could spend the whole afternoon with her hero -- 
she just had to figure out how to make sure she sat next to 
Paul.  For Clara, Christmas was coming early!

Finally, the three oldest kids had been deposited at school 
and Nathan with his grandparents, leaving Lois and Clark to 
drive over to police headquarters to check with Henderson 
on how the search for Joe Arlo was doing.  The Inspector 
had promised to keep them informed, but after a quick chat 
with Bill they had learned that there had been nothing to 
report so far.  The whole police force was on high alert 
but there hadn't been a single sighting of the wanted man.  
No one even knew if Arlo was still in the city.  

Disappointed at the lack of information, the couple split 
up for the morning.  Lois headed straight for the Planet to 
write up her interview with Mayor Golding for Sunday's 
edition of the paper.  Amazingly she found herself 
approving of the politician, at least for the present. 
Maybe this was a public servant who wouldn't be caught with 
his hand in the cookie-jar, or visiting a high-class 
hooker... or even being a puppet for Intergang.  There 
might be some dishonest politicians around, but Lois was 
willing to give Mayor Golding the benefit of the doubt and 
she'd certainly clear him of the last... 'indiscretion'.  
She'd suspected a leak in city-hall long before the present 
administration had taken over.

Clark had gone to pick up his tux for the Man of the Year 
ball the next evening, then he donned his other suit for an 
overhead scan of the city.  Who knew... there was just a 
chance he might have a little more success than the MPD in 
the manhunt!

Two hours later, Superman grudgingly gave up and turned 
towards his workplace.  He'd dropped by the hospital to 
remind the policemen guarding the boy that he was 'on the 
case'.  Not that he particularly relished 'supervising' 
them in this way... but he'd made a promise to Ben which he 
intended to keep.  While there, he'd been pleased to have a 
quick conversation with Nurse Kominski who was continuing 
to keep a close watch on Ben and had promised to scream for 
help if the need arose.

A second flyover of Hobbs Bay and the disused warehouses in 
the dock area had been his last port-of-call and, when that 
search had failed to turn up any clues, Clark had decided 
to call a halt and return to his paid job.  Lois was no 
doubt running out of excuses by now.  With the passage of 
time, his unexplained absences were considered common fare 
in the newsroom, hardly even causing remark, yet he didn't 
like to short-change his employers who, after all, paid his 
wages.

Clark entered the newsroom from the stairwell to find Lois 
waiting by the elevator.  "Hi there, honey," he bent close 
and whispered in her ear as he walked up behind her.

Accustomed to being surprised by her husband's quiet 
arrivals, Lois clasped the hand that slid round her waist.  
"There you are, and just in the nick of time!"

"What is it, Lois?"  Clark's voice rose anxiously at her 
words of welcome. 

"Calm down, Clark!  It's nothing life-threatening.  Just 
another silly break-in a few blocks from Clinton Avenue 
where you used to live.  Can you believe some thieves... 
they broke into a Salvation Army depot!  Perry's asked us 
to cover it, which just proves how sparse news is these 
days.  His top investigators on the theft of some 
secondhand clothes!  Stefan!"  Lois turned to catch the 
young copy-boy's attention as he headed towards Perry's 
office, his arms filled with a stack of paper-printouts -- 
the Chief still liked to edit copy the old-fashioned way.  
Stefan's progress halted and he glanced up at the sound of 
his name being called.  "Stefan, tell Perry that Clark got 
back and we're on our way out to cover the story.  Thank 
you," she added at the youngster's nod of his head.  "I 
doubt this will take long, so if he wants to hold a spot 
for this evening addition we'll have our copy back to him 
in plenty of time.  I mean, how much of a story is this 
going to be!"  That was said in an aside to Clark, as the 
elevator arrived and they stepped inside.

"I don't know, Lois, maybe there might have been some money 
being held overnight.  Their people are pretty active in 
collecting for charity at this time of year."

"Then that's sick!  That money is for helping them man 
soup-kitchens over the holidays.  What sort of mean burglar 
would do a thing like that?!"

"Burglars are usually pretty mean people, Lois.  It sort of 
goes with the territory."

"Yeah, well, someone should tell them that this is a time 
of  peace and goodwill!"  They rode the elevator to the 
parking level.  "I'm assuming that your search came up 
empty, since I haven't heard anything about Arlo being 
apprehended."

"You're right.  I also checked back at the hospital and the 
MPD isn't having much success either.  It's like the guy's 
become invisible."

"Hey, Clark," she said as she reached the Jeep and clicked 
off the central-locking system.  "You don't think Arlo's 
managed to get his hands on one of Alan Morris' 
invisibility suits?"

"Lois, Alan destroyed those suits years ago...."

"Yeah, but he did go to work with the government on their 
stealth-tactics project.  Maybe they're making these suits 
by the truckload.  We could have a whole army of invisible 
soldiers by now!"  Lois' hands gripped the steering wheel 
tensely at that scary thought, as she drove out of the 
parking-garage.

"Honey, I think Superman's answer to these suits pretty 
much made them redundant.  No, if Arlo is out there he's 
found another way to remain hidden.  Meanwhile, we have 
this 'big' robbery to cover," he teased.

Lois gave him a sideways warning glance.  "Don't knock it!  
Unless Alro gets himself arrested, it's the biggest story 
in town today."

*****

Joseph Arlo walked with forced confidence through the 
entrance to Metropolis General Hospital.  He'd spent the 
morning getting used to his new uniform, which actually fit 
him  well, and his guise had proved very effective.  He'd 
even managed to collect enough for charity to buy himself a 
pretty good lunch -- didn't they say that 'charity begins 
at home'?

It had been a little nerve-wracking walking into the fast-
food restaurant, but it seemed that the public expected 
Salvation Army personnel to eat.  Why he'd even picked up a 
few extra donations in his collection tin while he was 
eating!  It seemed the citizens of Metropolis liked to 
salve their consciences at this time of year.

Last night he'd got lucky!  He'd broken into their local 
'army' depot looking for some secondhand clothes with which 
to disguise himself -- a heavy overcoat, hopefully a hat 
and maybe a pair of old glasses.  There had been plenty of 
clothes to choose from, though he never did find 
spectacles.  Instead he'd come across a pile of dark-navy 
uniforms lying on a table with a little note attached, 
telling this guy Albert to take them to the dry-cleaners 
first thing in the morning, as all the band-members wanted 
to look smart for their street concert on Christmas Eve.  
The uniforms had to be at the cleaners early to get under 
the deadline for pickup.  That's when he'd remembered his 
training for the NIA that the best hiding place was in 
plain sight.  Everyone expected to see the Salvation Army 
out in force at Christmas time, and one of those 'sob 
soldiers' wouldn't look out of place visiting the hospital 
either! 

At least, that was the theory, but he couldn't stop his 
stomach from doing somersaults as he put it to the test in 
the busy foyer of the hospital.  Yet no one paid him much 
attention: even when he shook his collection can under 
their noses, they just stuck their hands in their pockets 
or purse and dropped some coins in the opening.  He even 
found the gumption to approach a fresh-faced rookie cop, 
but so far no one looked at his face and there were no 
shouts of recognition 

He'd hung around for some time to allow his nerves to 
settle and the medical staff to become used to his 
presence; then, strolling over to the stairwell, he'd 
slipped inside.  Deciding not to go straight to the top 
floor, he'd spent a few minutes wishing the staff and some 
patients season's greetings on the intervening floors.  
When he'd reached the Burns Unit, he'd stuck his nose 
around the door, but spotting the heavy police presence, 
he'd quickly let it swing shut.  That was it!  Gone was his 
idea of getting even with the kid.  He had to go see Church 
and get out of here as soon as possible, or else there was 
a very good chance of him spending New Year in a police 
cell, and every other year of his life for a very long 
time.

*****

Lois and Clark soon discovered that the 'big heist' was 
really no robbery at all.  When they interviewed the 
'commander' of the base, he explained that, though there 
had been a little money locked in a cash-box in his desk, 
it hadn't been touched.  In fact, nothing was missing, 
except for the uniforms, and Major Holby had already 
checked with his subordinate to find they'd been delivered 
to the cleaners as arranged.  Albert hadn't even realised 
the depot had been broken into, as he'd come and gone 
through the front door and the broken window had been round 
the back in a store room which held only boxes of sheet-
music and stacks of Bibles.

"Were any Bibles stolen?" Lois asked for want of a better 
question.

"To tell the truth, I wouldn't know," Major Holby admitted 
with a tiny grin.  "Only God knows how many are back there, 
but they definitely don't look disturbed.  Besides, I 
wouldn't be too upset if someone wanted to take one of the 
Lord's good books."

"So what have we got here... a holy thief?"  Lois gazed 
around her at the meeting-hall, noting that her husband had 
pulled his glasses a little way down his nose -- a sure 
sign that he was also checking things out in his own unique 
way.  The large room with its rows of benches looked plain 
but entirely clean and neat, with nothing out of place.  
Clark gave a negative shrug.  Lois sighed, returning her 
attention to the major.  "And nothing else has been damaged 
or anything?"

"Not that I can see.  Perhaps someone off the street just 
wanted to spend the night in a warm place," Major Holby 
offered.  "I feel a bit foolish for calling in the police 
and causing all this fuss."

"Don't worry about it, Major," Clark remarked with a 
friendly grin.  "You were broken into, after all, and we've 
covered quite a few false alarms in our time."

The Salvation Army officer laughed knowingly, hoping to 
prove that he was more worldly than his 'calling' would 
suggest.  "I must admit, I was pretty surprised to see Lane 
and Kent turn up here."

"Actually, I used to live just round the corner on Clinton, 
so I know the area pretty well!"

"You did?  I only moved here a couple of years ago, but 
there are a lot of good people in the neighbourhood, 
contrary to its reputation."  Major Holby leaned in closer 
to share a confidence.  "Actually, they tell me that 
Superman used to be seen around here a fair bit.  Thank 
goodness, I didn't call for Superman and waste his time 
also!"

Lois looked warningly at Clark as she watched his lips 
twitch and his shoulders give the barest of shakes.  "Well, 
Superman is a busy guy and he shows up in lots of places.  
But if there's nothing more you can tell us, we'll just 
have a few words with the local police and than we'll go."

"Thank you for your assistance, Major Holby.  You'll 
probably get a mention in this evening's Daily Planet."  
Clark offered his hand which the major shook willingly, 
looking quite pleased at Clark's comment.

 "Fame, at last!  I just wish I could be more help, but 
there really doesn't seem anything to he helpful about."

"Maybe Clark and I could put a little plug in our piece 
about all the good work the Salvation Army does, especially 
at this time of year."

"You would, Ms Lane?" God's soldier beamed even more.  Lots 
of people read and respected the Daily Planet and getting a 
mention in it should boost their charity work a whole lot.  
"That's very kind of you."

"It is Christmas, Major!"  L