Supercop II: The Black Knight
By Nan Smith <hachiban@earthlink.net>
Rated: PG13
Submitted: January 2007


Disclaimer: The recognizable characters and settings in this
story are the property of D.C. Comics, Warner Bros., December
3rd Productions, et cetera, and no copyright infringement is
intended. Any original characters, scenes, dialogue and the
story itself belong to me.


"Hey, Bill!"

Crossing the parking lot, William Henderson turned at the hail.
Norma Randall waved and increased her speed to a half-trot as
she hurried across the pavement toward him.

"Getting back a bit late, aren't you?" he asked, glancing at his
watch. It was five minutes before the start of the day shift.
Together they ascended the two steps to the Precinct and
Henderson pushed open the door for her.

"Yeah," Norma said. "The Midtown Rapist struck again. Or
nearly."

"What happened?"

"Apparently, he pried open a woman's bedroom window and tried to
assault her," Norma said. "Unfortunately for him, her boyfriend
was in the bed, too. Guy took the knife away from the assailant
and started pounding on him. The boyfriend's a weight lifter, it
turns out. The attacker managed to push him off and got out the
window again, but he left blood on the sill and drops all the
way down the sidewalk."

"Sounds like he left some evidence behind this time," Henderson
said.

"You could say that," Norma said. "Anyway, I took the report.
When I left, Forensics was going over the crime scene with a
fine-tooth comb, and Wolfe was there, talking to the near-victim
and her boyfriend." She yawned. "I'll be glad when I'm off the
night shift."

"Don't blame you," Henderson agreed. "Better file your report
and check out. The guys in charge are complaining about people
taking too much overtime again."

"Somebody should remind them that the bad guys don't have set
hours," Norma said through a wide yawn that she covered with one
hand. "I guess I'll see you later."

"Night," Henderson said. He headed down the hallway toward his
office. Without difficulty, his super-hearing picked up the
commotion of the day shift coming on and the night shift getting
ready to depart. Somewhere in the background, a police radio was
reporting a driver going east in the westbound lane of the
Seaside Parkway and he grimaced. It sounded to him as if some
citizen of Metropolis was getting an early start on the upcoming
holiday season. Halloween would be rolling around in a few days,
and right after that the Christmas shopping season would begin
in earnest.

Another radio report announced the arrival of Superman, and the
capture of the wrong-way motorist. It looked as if Kent was on
top of things this morning, he thought. In the three months
since his acquisition of Superman's powers, Henderson had gained
a deeper understanding of the way Clark Kent managed to juggle
the events of his life in order to maintain two identities, and
thereby, his privacy. As a matter of fact, his personal juggling
act was getting pretty decent. At least so far, no one appeared
to suspect that their own Inspector Henderson might have another
side to his personality...

Well, time to get on with the business of the day before someone
needed the Black Knight's services. He glanced again at his
watch and had to remind himself for the umpteenth time in the
last month that things would happen when they were ready to
happen. Sue's obstetrician had told her three days before that
she could go another week, at least. Still, as one of his
married acquaintances had mentioned before, the ninth month was
always the longest. Sue would let him know if anything started
to happen.

He hung his jacket on the hook behind his office door and ambled
down to listen to the morning briefing before the day shift
commenced. If he had to take off suddenly -- as always seemed to
happen recently -- it would be just as well to let people see
him first, and establish that he was here. That was just one of
those little hints that Kent had passed along to him.
"Perception is everything," he repeated to himself. If everyone
perceived that he was here when the Black Knight was handling an
emergency across town, people wouldn't connect the two. It was
something that he had learned to live by.

**********

Lois Lane glanced around the crime scene with apparently no more
than professional interest. The Midtown Rapist, as the Planet
had dubbed him, had run into trouble here -- a lot of trouble.
He hadn't expected the presence of the boyfriend, and left a
contact lens, a torn, bloody glove and a weapon with a
fingerprint on the blade at the scene. That was a lot of
evidence, but if the man had never had the misfortune to cross
the path of the Metropolis police force before, those things
might not matter. Cooperation between the police forces of
different states was sketchy, and even if the guy had been in
trouble elsewhere, New Troy might not necessarily know about it.
On the other hand, the Metropolis Police Department didn't have
Jimmy Olsen on its staff. Clark had always said that Jimmy
should be working for the FBI, and Lois was inclined to agree.
The first thing she was going to do when she got back to the
office was to set him to work on the problem.

Sharon Langford, who had been the rapist's target, was in her
kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee. She was still wearing pajamas
and a bathrobe since the police wouldn't let her back into her
bedroom to get anything else to wear until they were finished
with their work. Lois took one last look around the bedroom and
strolled casually into the kitchen. The woman turned as she
entered.

"Hi," Lois said.

"Hi." The intended victim was probably about Lois's age and
build. Her dark hair was mussed, and Lois could see the lines of
strain on her face. "Are you a cop?"

"No. I guess I should have introduced myself. I'm Lois Lane,
from the Daily Planet."

"Glad to meet you." The woman didn't sound all that glad, Lois
thought, but she could hardly blame her. "I guess you're going
to report on this, huh?"

"Well -- yes. Some of it, anyhow. Detective Wolfe asked me to
keep part of it under wraps. They don't want their suspect to
realize how much they know. And I won't give your name." Lois
looked at the woman with some sympathy. It had to be a
frightening thing to realize that the man who had broken into
her home must have been watching her for days, and that only the
unexpected early return of her boyfriend from his business trip
had saved her from the fate of several other women before her.
"How do you feel?"

"I guess it hasn't really hit home yet." The woman took a gulp
of coffee and winced at the heat. "If Vern hadn't been here--"

"Yeah," Lois said. "I hear you. It sounds like he gave the creep
what he deserved, though."

"Uh huh. But what about next time?"

Lois made a face. "I know. We've got a pretty good police force,
though, and he left behind a lot of evidence this time. And he
may go on to someone else -- not that that's any better."

For the first time, she saw some of the other woman's control
slip. Her eyes filled with tears. Lois stepped forward. "Why
don't you sit down? Do you need to call work or anything -- tell
them you aren't coming in today, or something?"

She shook her head. "I work the afternoon shift, but I have to
be there. I've used up all my sick time. I had the flu two weeks
ago."

"If it's any reassurance," Lois said, "judging by what Wolfe's
people found, he thinks that whoever this guy is, he's probably
going to be out of circulation for a little while. You shouldn't
have to worry about him for a few days, and maybe they'll get
him in the meantime." She looked around the tiny kitchen. "It's
too bad Mr. Carson couldn't stay. You'd probably feel better
with him here."

"Vern had to go to work. He didn't want to." Sharon sank into a
kitchen chair. "I hope Detective Wolfe is right."

"So do I," Lois said. "Tell me, have you noticed anyone hanging
around watching you the last few days? Or anything unusual at
all?"

The other woman shrugged. "The police already asked me that. I
don't know, really. I could say I had a creepy feeling when I
came home night before last. Vern usually walks me home because
I live in this section of town, but he'd left on that trip, so I
was a little nervous when I came in. I was nervous last night,
too -- only then Vern showed up. He'd caught an early flight and
got in at midnight. I guess whoever this guy is, he didn't know
that."

"I guess not," Lois said. "Maybe you should stay at his place
for a while until they catch the rapist. They will, eventually,
if he keeps this up."

"I might," Sharon said. "We're engaged. Vern's wanted me to move
in with him for months, but it just doesn't seem right until
we're actually married. I'm being silly, I know."

"Well, it wouldn't have to be forever," Lois said. "And if it
makes you feel safer--"

"Believe me, I'm thinking about it," Sharon said. "I'm going to
talk to him about it tonight."

"Is there anything you noticed about the guy in particular?"
Lois asked. "Did you see anything while he was fighting your
boyfriend?"

"Not a lot," Sharon said. "It was pretty dark. There was one
thing, though--"

"What was it?"

"Well, I don't know if it means anything," she said. "Vern
grabbed the hand holding the knife -- they fought over it. That
was how the glove got slashed like that -- and the guy's hand,
too. He was wearing a wedding ring. Just a plain, gold one."

"Did you tell the police?" Lois asked.

"I didn't think of it," Sharon admitted. "Do you think I
should?"

"Definitely," Lois said. "Any piece of information could help."

"Tell us what?" a voice behind her asked. Lois turned to see the
dark, narrow face of Detective Wolfe.

"Ms. Lane reminded me," Sharon said. "When Vern was fighting him
and the glove got torn off -- he was wearing a plain, gold
wedding ring. The other man, not Vern."

Wolfe removed a tattered notebook from his pocket and made a
notation. "Thanks," he said. "Anything else you think of, call
the number on my card."

"I'll do that," Sharon said. "If I remember anything at all,
you'll be hearing from me."

Lois removed the notebook from her pocket for the umpteenth time
since she had arrived at the scene. "Can you give me a quote I
can use, Detective Wolfe? It'll help fill out my article."

"Just a warning for people in Metropolis, in general," Wolfe
said. "Tell women who live alone -- or that have significant
others that travel -- to be sure their windows and doors are
secure. I realize we're having a heat wave right now, but being
a little hot is better than having someone like this character
getting inside their houses. They can always buy a fan."

"That's for sure," Lois said. "I'll be sure to include it in the
article."

A short time later, Lois pulled the Cherokee into her spot in
the Daily Planet's underground lot. She'd been covering the
exploits of the Midtown Rapist since his first appearance three
months ago, and the man was beginning to thoroughly irk her. If
Ultra Woman got hold of him, she hoped she would be able to
restrain herself, but it might be a close thing. It was becoming
obvious to her that the guy really hated women, and the thought
that he might be married bothered her more than she wanted to
admit. The thought of the kind of home life he and his wife must
have made her shudder.

>From somewhere, a whoosh of air blew her hair about and then
her husband's voice said from beside her, "You look like you're
thinking pretty hard about something."

"Yeah, sort of. The Midtown Rapist was busy last night."

Clark scowled. "Again? Was anybody badly hurt?"

"Actually, he might have been. We can always hope, anyway." She
went on to describe what had happened.

Clark listened in silence and then nodded. "With any luck, it'll
stop him long enough for Wolfe to track him down."

"Well, we might be able to help," Lois said. "Other than the
usual superhero stuff, I mean," she added. "I need to get in
touch with Henderson. Wolfe pulled a bloody fingerprint off the
knife -- and it wasn't the boyfriend's. He apparently had blood
on his palms and wrists, but not on his fingers. If Henderson
can get us a copy of the print, maybe Jimmy can do some of his
magic on it. If we can figure out who we ought to keep an eye
on, maybe we can stop him before he hits again."

"Can't hurt," Clark said. "I need to write up the wrong-way
motorist story, and then maybe Superman could drop by the
Precinct and have a talk with him."

"That sounds like a plan," Lois said. She rang for the elevator.
"What was with the wrong-way guy? Was he drunk?"

Clark shook his head. "Diabetic. He was driving back from a
business conference in Gotham. Apparently, he skipped his late
night snack and let his blood sugar get too low. I dropped him
and his car off at Metro General."

"At least that's one happy ending," Lois said. "I'm a little
worried about Sharon, though."

"Sharon? Oh, you mean the woman our boy went after."

"Yeah. What if he decides she's seen too much? Considering how
he apparently feels about women, I don't think it would bother
him to kill her in order to eliminate a witness."

"What did Wolfe say?"

"Not much. I tried to hint her in the direction of staying with
her fiance until the police find the perp, but she's not sure it
would look right."

"He was sleeping in her bed," Clark pointed out. "What's the
difference?"

"I didn't say it was logical," Lois said, shortly. "Maybe she's
afraid her mother will find out or something."
"I guess it's possible. On the other hand, her mother probably
wouldn't want her to be hurt by this guy, either, would she?"

Lois shrugged. "I just hope she's careful."

**********

William Henderson looked up from his desk at the sound of a
hesitant knock on his door. John Braxton, known to everyone at
the 12th Precinct as Johnny, stood diffidently in the opening,
and as he raised his hand to knock on the frame a second time,
Henderson waved him inside. "What's up?"

"Um -- Ultra Woman is at the desk, sir. She wants to talk to
you, and she says she won't leave until she does. Should I let
her inn?"

Henderson rigorously repressed the urge to grin. Apparently, his
reputation with the new graduates of the Academy was such as to
inspire respect bordering on awe. Enough, at least, that they
were willing to withstand even the demand of a superhero to
speak to him. That was something, considering the civilian
persona of the superhero in question. He'd be willing to bet a
month's salary that Lois had not couched the request so
politely. Or even that she had phrased it as a request. He
wondered how long the attitude would last. "Sure. Send her in."

As he spoke, the pink-clad form of Ultra Woman appeared in the
doorway behind Johnny. "Nice of you to see me, Henderson."

Johnny fled. Lois entered the room and shut the door with a firm
click.

"Really, Lois," Henderson said mildly, "you don't need to scare
the kids to death. A phone call would be sufficient."

"I called four times. Your secretary -- or whoever she was --
kept telling me you were busy," Lois said darkly. "I needed to
ask you for a favor, so I decided to come in person."

"And that would be?"

"I need a copy of that print that Wolfe lifted from the Midtown
Rapist's knife. Jimmy's going to do a search for me -- see if
there's any record of this guy being arrested in any other
state. If we can identify him--"

"And how would Olsen find out about that?" Henderson asked,
raising an eyebrow at her.

"Never mind that. Can you get me a copy?"

Henderson snorted. "I'll see what I can do. She's not a
secretary, though," he added. "I'll tell you what -- I'll give
you my new cell phone number so you don't have to go through the
switchboard. But be damn sure what you're calling about is
important. Deal?"

"I guess so. It would sure improve things," Lois said. "This guy
has to be stopped. If we can figure out who to watch, we might
catch him in the act -- so to speak."

Henderson nodded. "If you do find out anything, don't give his
prospective lawyer any grounds for false arrest or anything."

"Not a chance," Lois said.

"All right. I'll try to have it for you by this afternoon."

"Thanks," Lois said.

Henderson produced a business card and scrawled a number on the
back. "Here. I didn't think I was going to have a use for these
things."

"Business cards?" Lois asked. "Why would a cop need business
cards?"

"Don't ask me. They handed them out four months ago. I think our
computer guy was testing out some new software. So far, counting
this one, I've used three of them."

"Oh." Lois took the card. "Well, thanks. We'll let you know what
we find."

"You do that," Henderson said. "If we could convince the powers
that be to upgrade the computer system around here -- and maybe
tie it in to some kind of nationwide database -- we might have a
better chance of tracking these characters, but it all comes
down to the bottom line."

"Money," Lois said.

"You got it." Henderson got to his feet. "Now, I have a meeting
to attend. I'll send that stuff over as soon as I can get hold
of it."

**********

The Police Commissioner's meeting was just as exhilarating as
Henderson had expected. He didn't go to sleep, but it was a near
thing until the man brought up the tribute to Superman two weeks
ago. The official pat on the back was nice, of course, but it
wasn't exactly high priority. Then had come the discussion of
the recent appearance of the Black Knight and the reappearance
of Ultra Woman. Apparently, the city had received a request to
transfer one of them to New York City, and the representative
that had contacted him seemed to be unable to comprehend that
the Metropolis authorities had no say whatsoever in the matter.
Police Commissioner Brighton was at his wit's end, trying to get
across to the woman the fact that the superheroes were
independent of the Metropolis police force, and that, if they
chose not to change locations, there was nothing that Brighton
could do about it. He asked all those in attendance to keep the
information in mind and to pass it, and a request to contact
Brighton, along to Ultra Woman, Superman and the Black Knight,
should one of them have the good fortune to encounter one of
them in the near future. Henderson made a mental note to drop by
to see the man this afternoon when he had the time -- after he
had spoken to his super-powered colleagues. He had no wish to
switch his base of operations, especially considering his
position in the Metropolis Police Department, and he was equally
certain that Lois didn't, but it would be just as well to be
able to say that he had already spoken to them on the subject.

Shortly afterwards the meeting broke up. Henderson left the
conference room more convinced than ever that such meetings were
a waste of time, and only conducted by the people in charge so
that they could justify the department's budget at the end of
the quarter. Halfway down the hall, headed toward his office, he
nearly ran into Detective Wolfe as the man exited the restroom.
Now would be a good time to make his request, he decided. "Jim,
could I have a minute of your time?"

"Huh? Sure." The detective fell in beside him. "What's up?"

"I had a visit from Ultra Woman a little while ago. She'd like a
copy of the print your guys got from the Midtown Rapist crime
scene this morning. Would you mind if I give it to her?"

"Huh?" Wolfe looked surprised. "I guess not. If she thinks it'll
help nab this guy, I'm all for any help we can give her. He's a
pain in the--" He broke off as one of their female colleagues
passed by. "Did she say how she plans to use 'em?"

"Not exactly," Henderson said, resisting the urge to cross his
fingers. Kent's bad habits were rubbing off on him more than
he'd realized. "I got the impression she's trying to connect him
to crimes outside the state."

"Hmm. Well, I wish her luck." Wolfe scowled. "To tell you the
truth, the guy makes my skin crawl every time I investigate one
of his visits. At least this time we got a bit lucky. Forensics
was able to pick the print of his left thumb and pinky finger
from the inside of the glove, along with the print on the knife
blade. I'll send everything over to you as soon as I get the
rest of the lab results. Tell Ultra Woman I said we can use the
help, will you?"

"I'll do that," Henderson said. "Thanks." He glanced at his
watch. "I have to go. I'm speaking at a Metropolis High
assembly."

"Recruiting for law enforcement?" Wolfe asked, raising an
eyebrow.

"Not exactly," Henderson said. "They're doing an anti-drug
campaign. I guess they figured I had two things going for me.
Cop and alumnus. Maybe it'll discourage one or two of the kids
from doing something stupid."

"Oh. Well, good luck. Watch out for the groupies."

"Yeah, right," Henderson said. "Wrong age bracket."

Wolfe snorted. "They don't seem to think so about the Knight. He
must be about your age."

"Yeah, but I don't fly," Henderson said. "Big handicap; besides,
can you see me running around in that getup?"

The idea seemed to cause Wolfe a minor convulsion. Henderson
grinned and headed for the parking lot.

**********

Of course, it was as he pulled out of his parking space that the
first call of the day for the Black Knight came. He continued to
drive until he had put several streets between himself and the
station and then pulled into a public parking lot. An alley
opened up between the nearby dry-cleaning establishment and a
car wash, and Henderson ducked quickly into it, glancing at his
watch. A tractor-trailer had jackknifed on the Seaside
Expressway. Its gas tank was leaking and traffic was already
backing up. Hopefully, he could clean it up quickly and still
make it to the school on time. If it looked as if he was going
to be late, he would have to call and give them time to
rearrange the order of the speakers.

Several police were already on the scene when he arrived and
were directing traffic away from the accident. Two men were
trying to extricate the driver from the cab, heedless of the
gasoline that ran past their feet. Henderson landed beside them.
"Need some help?"

"Yeah," one of the men said. "The door's jammed."

"Right. You two move back from the gas," Henderson said. "If
something throws a spark I don't want you caught in the fire."

The two men moved back and Henderson forced his fingers into the
gap between the crumpled door and frame. Careful not to scrape
metal against metal and inadvertently strike a deadly spark, he
gripped firmly and inexorably forced the door free. The driver
was semiconscious and Henderson x-rayed his neck and spine
quickly to determine if there were any injuries that he needed
to worry about. Finding none, he lifted the man quickly and
carried him to a safe distance from the gasoline.

While Henderson was working, the paramedic van had arrived and
he was able to hand his burden over to them. Quickly, he moved
to locate the leak and squeeze the edges together, stopping the
flow of gas. Other emergency services were arriving. He watched
them move competently in to cover the spilled gas with
fire-retardant foam, and after a moment's consideration,
approached the team leader. "Give me a little room and I'll move
that thing out of the way for you," he said.

The man nodded and lifted the bullhorn to his lips.

Henderson waited while people moved back, and he took advantage
of the time to decide how best to lift the vehicle.

When the area had been cleared, the team leader turned back to
him. "If you can lift it over to the shoulder it will give us
more room to move traffic around it," he said. "We'll be better
able to work with all these cars out of here."

"All right." Henderson had decided by now what the best
technique would be and moved in to lift the enormous device
cautiously a few feet off the ground. Carefully, he floated it
to the designated location and lowered it to the ground again.
He again approached the man in charge. "Do you need me for
anything else?" he inquired.

The man shook his head. "Nope; that'll do it. Thanks for your
help, sir. This makes things a lot easier."

"You're welcome," he said automatically, and lifted into the
air. If he hurried, he would be able to clean off the gas fumes
and still make it to the assembly with a few minutes to spare.
He'd have to pick up his car from the lot later.

**********

Sue was sitting in front of the television with her feet up when
he walked in through the back door. He whisked into the bathroom
for a quick shower and walked out seconds later, dressed in
another set of clothes. Sue waved at the television. "They were
just showing the accident."

"Yeah. Couldn't have hit at a worse time," he said. "Sorry to
rush right off, but I have to be at Metro High's assembly in
five minutes for that anti-drug campaign of theirs. How are you
feeling?"

"The same," Sue said. She made a face. "I'm getting tired of
running to the bathroom every two minutes, though. If something
starts to happen, you'll be the first to know."

He dropped a kiss on her lips. "Call me if you need me. I have
my cell phone with me. And wish me luck." In the blink of an
eye, he was on his way toward the high school, moving fast
enough that no one would be able to spot Inspector Henderson
flying. Two minutes later, he dropped to a soft landing between
a storage shed and one of the temporary buildings in the rear of
the high school's main office, straightened his glasses,
adjusted his tie and made sure that everything was in place.
Casually, he strolled out into the sunlight and headed for the
high school's auditorium to let them know that he was here. He
had just under three minutes to spare.

**********

Norma Randall yawned widely as she sat near the front of the
traffic jam. She had completed her grocery shopping and was now
headed home for a solid eight hours of sleep, and, of course,
had managed to get caught behind the jackknifed tractor-trailer.
She had resigned herself to hours of waiting and creeping
through masses of traffic, moving with the speed of a snail,
when she saw the black-clad figure of Metropolis's newest
superhero touch down to a landing beside the disabled vehicle.
She had never seen the Knight in person before, although she
had, of course, seen him on television a number of times. He was
taller than she had realized -- probably about six feet, she
estimated automatically, with a lean, sinewy build. His
shoulders were broad, as might be expected, and he moved with a
businesslike air that she found vaguely familiar. Of course,
she'd seen the man on television enough that it wasn't really
surprising. Still, how often did you get to see one of the
superheroes in person? With one hand, she fished the binoculars
from under the driver's seat and trained them on the Knight,
watching him as he pried the door of the tractor-trailer open
with one hand and, after a pause, lifted the driver gently from
the cab of the wrecked vehicle. She followed him with the
binoculars as he deposited the rescued man onto the paramedic's
stretcher and then returned to speak to the individual who was
apparently directing clean-up operations. People moved back, and
she watched with admiration as the relatively tiny human being
-- or Kryptonian, probably, she reflected with a faint grin --
moved the enormous machine carefully to the side of the
expressway. A moment later, he lifted off and vanished in a
streak of black.

Norma put the binoculars on the passenger seat, still gazing
thoughtfully upward in the direction that the black-clad
superhero had vanished. After a moment, she shook her head. The
sense of familiarity was deceptive, she thought, but for a very
brief second, watching the man in action, the impression had
flitted through her mind that she knew him.

"Nah," she said after a moment. "You're sleep-deprived, Randall.
It's just one of those things."

The van in front of her was beginning to inch forward, and she
eased up on the clutch, allowing her car to creep after it. It
seemed as if the Black Knight's intervention had speeded things
up considerably. Maybe she'd get home in time to get a decent
day's sleep after all. She would be awfully happy, she
reflected, not for the first time, to be off the night shift.
The lack of sleep was making her imagine things.

**********

Henderson arrived at the auditorium in time to catch a hurried
Principal Crandon opening the door to the side entrance and
jogged forward to catch the door before it swung shut. The man
glanced over his shoulder and heaved a sigh of relief. "Good;
it's you," he said. "I was afraid you were going to be late."

Henderson shook his head. "Traffic jam," he said truthfully, if
rather misleadingly.

"We're running a little behind schedule," Crandon explained,
ushering him up the rear stairs into the back stage area. "The
man that usually handles the audio equipment called in sick this
morning. Said he'd had an accident at home and was in the
emergency room -- which left us short handed. Fortunately, one
of our students that deals with the sound during musical
performances was able to substitute, so we'll only be delayed
about ten minutes or so. I hope Superman gets here soon. He's
late. The Black Knight is scheduled to be here, too, but he's
the second to last speaker, so he said not to expect him until
the last minute."

He nodded, acknowledging the information, all the while glancing
around at the students that were running back and forth, carting
around equipment and generally creating an air of complete
chaos. Since he had played the trumpet in his school band many
years ago, he recalled a good deal of the preparations for
various presentations and wasn't fooled. Still, he reflected,
surely, he had never been as young as the kids he was watching
now, had he?

Several of the other speakers were already waiting and he took a
seat beside them. One or two of them were studying their
presentations and Henderson took a moment to glance down at his
own notes, reading them at super speed to refresh his memory. It
was too bad, he reflected, that Kent's photographic memory had
not been transferred with the other super powers, but he figured
that was something he'd probably had from birth, and not a power
conferred on him by Earth's yellow sun. He wondered for a second
if all Kryptonians had that kind of memory, or if Kent had just
been lucky. In any case, it didn't really matter. His own memory
had always been excellent, and the ability to read and reread
the speech a dozen times at super speed made memorizing it
simple.

Speaking of Superman, here he came now, striding across the
backstage area, his cape waving gently in the draft created by
one of the fans. He nodded politely to the other guest speakers
and took a seat next to Henderson. "Hi, Bill. I was wondering if
you were going to get here on time. Weren't you in that traffic
jam on the expressway?"

"Almost," Henderson said, deadpan. "I took a detour.
Fortunately, the Knight showed up and helped clear the lanes."

"Yeah, I heard. I'd have gone to help, but I had to stop to
break up a mugging. Besides, it sounded like he had it pretty
well in hand. Got your speech memorized?"

Henderson nodded. "Looks like they're about ready to start. By
the way, I'd like to speak to you privately after the assembly,
if you can spare a minute." He'd pass along Brighton's request
then, he thought. Then they could decide how to deal with that
particular problem and get it out of their hair.

The chaos around them was subsiding, and Principal Crandon wiped
his heated brow. "Five minutes," he said to the lined up
speakers, and stepped through the curtains. Henderson followed
his progress with his x-ray vision. The seats were full of
whispering, squirming teenagers who, Henderson was well aware,
were completely uninterested in the subject matter about to be
presented, and who undoubtedly looked on this whole affair as a
welcome relief from classes. Oh well, maybe the information he
was about to give them would make a few of them stop and think
before accepting that first offer of a recreational drug. It had
been a cop, many years ago, that had impressed a very much
younger Bill Henderson to stay away from such substances, and
inspired him to want to follow in his footsteps. Maybe he and
Clark could do the same for a kid or two in this audience.

**********

"Any luck yet?" Lois asked.

Jimmy Olsen paused, his arms full of folders. "I just put some
preliminary stuff on your desk," he informed her. "Serial
rapists are pretty common, but the ones with this guy's pattern
are a bit rarer. I've been looking for news reports on the same
kind of crime spree in other cities, going back two years, for
starters, and ending no later than three months ago, when it
started up in Metropolis. It was the best I could do until you
can get me the other information."

"Henderson told Ultra Woman that he'd probably have it over here
by this afternoon," Lois said. "If it doesn't show up I'll call
him and bug him about it."

"I'd call him, but he's got a new cell phone number," Jimmy
said. "I tried to get him but they said the number was no longer
in service."

"Yeah, I know," Lois said wryly. "He gave me his new one. Next
time I see him I'll ask if I can give it to you. I doubt he'll
mind, since you had his number before."

"Okay," Jim said. "I guess that was 'cause of the cell phone
scam you and Clark busted up last month, huh?"

Lois nodded. "Yeah. I had to replace my phone and get a new
number, too, for the same reason Henderson did. The Planet got a
fifteen thousand-dollar cell phone bill because they'd captured
my phone's code and cloned it. There were calls to Patagonia,
for Pete's sake. And to Rwanda and Fiji."

"Wow," Jimmy said.

"Yeah. Perry nearly had a heart attack."

"Speakin' of heart attacks," Perry's voice said behind her, "I
nearly had another one when I found out their boss had his boys
stuff you in a 50-gallon drum and sink you in Hobs Bay."

Lois turned to face her boss. "Ultra Woman rescued me," she
pointed out, "and since I'd seen Templeton's face and picked up
a lot of details while I was his prisoner, I was able to tell
Henderson's people exactly where to look for the evidence. It
worked out fine."

"Yeah," Perry said, "but if it hadn't been for Ultra Woman, I'd
be short one o' my best investigative reporters. I know I've
always backed anything you have to do to get a story, and I
always will, but I wish you'd be a little more careful. I'm
gettin' too old for that kind of scare."

"I'm always careful," Lois said, ignoring the incredulous
expression on the faces of both her listeners. "That was just a
piece of bad luck."

"Uh huh," Perry said, unimpressed. "Well, try to remember what I
said. It won't do you any good to get a story if you wind up
dead. Speaking of which, how's the story on the Midtown Rapist
comin' along? Do they have any new leads?"

"A couple," Lois said. "I promised Wolfe I'd hold off publishing
them for now, though. He said he'll give me the exclusive if
they pan out."

Perry nodded. "Sounds fair to me. In the meantime, what have you
and Clark got goin' for now?"

"Well," Lois said, taking a seat at her desk, "I have to write
up an Ultra Woman-saves-the-day story. I happened to be passing
by when she broke up a grocery store heist this morning. Clark's
attending that anti-drug assembly over at Metro High where
Superman and the Black Knight are both speakers. He should be
back pretty soon. We're going to be doing a follow up on the
phone scam last month. Possible ties to Intergang."

"All right," Perry said, "get writing. We've got some space to
fill up for the afternoon edition and the deadline isn't getting
any farther away."

"Right," Jimmy said. "I have to get this stuff to Eduardo.
'Scuse me."

Lois turned back to her computer, beginning to type up the
standard Ultra Woman-saves-the-day story, while Perry moved
happily on to harass Ralph. It was funny, she reflected, how
things had changed in the last three months since she and
Henderson had unexpectedly received a dose of Clark's powers. In
the early days of their relationship, Clark's luck at coming up
with such stories had annoyed her. It had seemed to the younger,
very driven Lois Lane that it was completely unfair that the
superhero always seemed to appear to save the day when Clark was
somewhere nearby. Later, when she had figured out his secret,
she and Clark had shared such stories, but now she was in the
same position as Clark at the beginning of his career as
Superman. Well, not exactly, since Clark knew who Ultra Woman
really was, but it was pretty close. She and Clark shared the
superhero stories and sometimes went out of their way, in their
other identities, to give the story to a colleague in order to
keep themselves from appearing too cozy with the Dynamic Trio,
as the Star had not-so-cleverly labeled them.

"Wow," Jimmy remarked as he passed her desk on the way back to
his own. "You're getting to be a really fast typist."

She casually slowed her typing speed but didn't comment. She
hadn't actually been typing at super speed, but her fingers were
flying over the keys at a rate that she had never been capable
of before. It was easy to do if she was in a hurry and wasn't
thinking about it. The outer world tended to slow down and she
could type accurately without consciously rushing. She'd thought
that she had learned a lot about her husband's problems two
years before when she had been Ultra Woman for two days. That
had been deceptive, she knew now. In the three months since the
lightning bolt had struck Clark, she had learned a great deal
more about the way Superman handled the ordinary things in his
life than she'd had the opportunity to discover back then. It
had only increased her respect for him. All his adult life,
Clark had been doing the things that she had been learning to
cope with in the last three months, and he accepted them as
normal. She still had a tendency to let her powers get away from
her unless she paid close attention to what she was doing.

As the story took form on the monitor screen before her, she
found herself wondering again how long these abilities were
going to last. Henderson had caved in after about a month and
gone to Bernard Klein as well, to the scientist's great delight.
Dr. Klein had done repeated tests on both of them, spaced out
every two weeks, and so far was unable to detect any difference
in the molecular density of their hair. Jesse Stipanovic had
received an attenuated dose of the powers through the metal of
the plane in which he had been riding, and, even so, his had
lasted for a full year. Dr. Klein theorized that what had been
mostly impaired had been his ability to adequately absorb
sunlight to replenish the energy that he burned up while using
his super powers, and so they had gradually faded away. So far,
neither Lois nor Henderson had shown any lack in that department
at all.

Some distance away, she heard a sonic boom and wondered briefly
if it was Clark or Henderson that had produced it but an instant
later the door to the stairs opened and Clark stepped out. He
trotted down the ramp to the newsroom floor and crossed to her
desk. "How's it going? I hear Ultra Woman stopped a robbery a
while ago."

"Yeah," Lois said. She put the final touches on her article and
LANned it to Perry. "I happened to be passing by, so I stopped
and got a statement from her about it. The robbers were a couple
of guys driving through town on their way to New York.
Apparently, they ran short of beer and decided to replenish
their supply. You'd think thugs like that would figure out that
Metropolis isn't a good place to try that sort of stuff."

"You'd think," Clark agreed. "I guess they somehow figure
they're going to be lucky and not get caught."

"Hope springeth eternal," Lois said dryly. "Better get that
Metro High article typed up."

"Right away." Clark dropped a kiss on the top of her head and
moved over to his desk. "I talked to Joey Templeton's lawyer, by
the way. He's pleading innocent in the phone scam case."

"Big surprise there," Lois said. "At least I don't have to show
up in court as a witness this time. I already gave them my
written testimony."

"Yeah," Clark agreed. "I need to talk to Bobby. I seem to recall
hearing somewhere that Templeton was once associated loosely
with Cost Mart. Maybe he can confirm it -- or point us to
someone who can tell us more."

"I'll try to get hold of him and arrange a meeting," Lois said.
"He mentioned last time we talked that he's interested in the
new Thai restaurant that opened up in Old Town."

"Hmm. Maybe we should buy him dinner there and find out what he
thinks about the food," Clark said. "If he likes it, we should
probably try it. By the way, Henderson passed along something to
me after his speech. I need to talk to you about it after I'm
done with this piece."

**********

Norma Randall pulled her car into the carport of her two-bedroom
house and got out, locking the driver's door. Across the street,
Mr. Jenkins was, as usual, working in his garden and, halfway
down the block, she could see Mrs. Hanson already on her way to
the post office with Tiger, the old lady's elderly Yorkie,
trotting sedately beside her, the red leash looped negligently
around her owner's hand. A dark blue sedan was parked near the
corner, and it looked as if the driver was perusing the morning
copy of the Daily Planet. She could see the signature globe at
the top of the page facing her. Of the driver, she could see
nothing.

She had put the two bags of groceries in the back seat. They
weren't heavy, and Norma was able to pick them both up, lock the
rear door with her elbow, and unlock the front door of her house
a moment later with a minimum of juggling her burdens. She
turned the knob with her marginally free hand, pushed the door
open with her hip, maneuvered her way inside and shut it with
her heel.

Neil was already gone, of course. He worked in the morning, and
she worked at night, which wasn't too bad a schedule,
considering. It left them with the afternoon together, and they
made the most of it.

His suitcase stood in the hall and she grimaced involuntarily.
He was headed for a business meeting in Los Angeles this
evening, and would be gone for two days. She would be dropping
him off at the airport on her way to work. She never liked it
when he traveled. They had been married for only two years and
were still newlyweds. Well, in another few days she would be off
the night shift and their schedules would coincide. They were
both looking forward to it.

Norma set the bags down on the hall bench and locked the door
behind her, then took the bags into the kitchen. There were only
three items that needed to be refrigerated. She put them away
quickly and left the remaining groceries on the kitchen table as
she headed for the bedroom. She was ready for a good day's
sleep.

It was as she was unbuttoning her uniform that she noticed the
light smear of red on her right palm.

She paused, lifting her hand into the light of the bedroom lamp
to examine it. She could swear that it hadn't been there a while
ago, and when she ran the forefinger of her other hand across
it, it smeared slightly. Cautiously, she lifted it to her nose,
sniffing. Was it her imagination, or could she smell the faint
odor of blood? She wasn't sure.

But she hadn't cut herself, as far as she could tell. If she had
picked up a fairly fresh bloodstain on her hand, where had it
come from?

She checked her clothing, finding nothing, and, after a moment,
returned to the kitchen to look around.

There was a tiny smear of rusty brown on her grocery bag where
she had touched it.

Frowning, Norma retraced her steps to the hallway. Nothing.
After a moment, she opened the front door and examined the outer
doorknob.

On the underside of the knob was another light brownish smear,
now almost dry.

She stared at it a moment. This was distinctly odd.

She examined the substance, but it was now impossible to tell
what it had been without the help of a laboratory. Again, Norma
looked at her palm. Well, it could be blood, or it could be a
number of other things. Perhaps some child had come along,
trying doorknobs, maybe with a little raspberry chocolate from a
morning doughnut on his hands?

Looking around, she could see no one within her range of vision.
Mr. Jenkins had vanished. He'd probably gone inside for his
morning coffee, she thought, and Mrs. Hanson had also
disappeared. Even the blue car was gone.

Well, she seemed to have found the source of the stain, but it
didn't, after all, seem that important. After a moment, she went
back inside, closed and locked the door, and then stood
indecisively for a second, looking around.

Nothing had been disturbed that she could see but, just to be
sure, Norma conducted a search of the house, the .38 Special
that all officers of the MPD carried while on duty in her hand.

All the windows were locked, she found, and both doors as well.
There was no one hiding in the other bedroom, or in any of the
closets. She even checked under the beds.

Feeling a little silly, Norma went back to her bedroom to
prepare for bed. It had been nothing but a false alarm after
all. The Midtown Rapist and his escapades must be getting to her
more than she realized.

But just to be certain, she locked her bedroom door before
climbing into bed.

**********

"Jimmy!" Lois waved several sheets of paper in the air.

Jimmy Olsen picked up the chocolate bar that he had just
purchased and turned at Lois's hail. Since it was Lois bringing
him the faxes that had just arrived, he assumed with some
justification that it was the information that they were
expecting from William Henderson.

His search of the morning had turned up seventy-two newspaper
articles published in the last two years across the country
about serial rapists whose patterns were similar to that of the
Midtown Rapist and who fit the other criteria that he was
looking for. Of those, quite a number of them were follow-ups on
earlier articles about the same man, and eleven of the criminals
in question had been captured. Still, some seven of the cases
remained unsolved. Assuming that this guy hadn't sprung out of
another dimension, or just recently started his criminal career
after having been a model citizen all his life, it was just
barely possible that three months ago he had been in one of
those seven other locations and found things getting a little
too hot for his continued residence there. Jimmy was well aware
that it was a long shot, but for the moment, it was all they had
to go on.

"Here they are," Lois said, presenting the papers to him with a
flourish as he arrived at his desk. "Do you think you can work a
little of your magic with them?"

"Maybe," Jimmy said cautiously. "I have some connections who can
do some checks for me. Fortunately, the fingerprint databases in
a lot of the big cities are computerized these days. Let me scan
these into my computer, and I'll see what I can do. It's too bad
there isn't a nationwide fingerprint database. It would sure
make it a lot easier for the cops to track down these
characters."

"That's what Henderson said," Lois said. "Maybe that's something
the Daily Planet should highlight. I think I'll talk to Perry
about it."

"That's a good idea," Jimmy said. "I'll get back to you as soon
as I can."

Lois nodded, starting to reach for her phone. Then he saw her
lift her head in the same way he had seen CK do countless times
since he had come to work at the Daily Planet. She glanced at
him, getting to her feet.

"If Perry asks, tell him I just remembered I have to meet Bobby
Bigmouth in a little while. I need to go get him his lunch," she
said.

Bobby Bigmouth was her most reliable, if somewhat exasperating,
snitch, Jimmy recalled. "Will do," he said to her retreating
back. Lois ran up the steps and disappeared into the stairwell.

Jimmy shook his head. He'd always heard that married couples
tended to pick up each other's mannerisms, but he'd never
believed it until now. He'd thought CK's habits were a little
odd, but now Lois was doing it! If the day came when Clark
started to babble like Lois, Jimmy promised himself he'd have a
man-to-man talk with him. This togetherness thing could
definitely have its drawbacks.

>From somewhere nearby, a sonic boom rattled the windows of the
Planet. Wow! One of the superheroes must have passed by a little
too close. Jimmy glanced at the monitors just as the picture
shifted to the scene of a local chemical plant that was blazing
merrily and pouring out a dense cloud of smoke. Several fire
trucks could be seen and men in protective gear were swarming
around the building like ants whose hill has been disturbed. As
he watched, Jimmy saw the black-clad figure of the Knight zip
across the screen and vanish into the smoke. An instant later, a
pink and blue streak approached from the left and followed him.
Ultra Woman was on the scene.

The cameras shifted. Superman could be seen hoisting a large
container of fire retardant, and, as Jimmy watched, he
disappeared after the other two superheroes into the smoke. It
must be fairly serious if all three of them were there, Jimmy
thought. They must be afraid of an explosion or something.

Perry stepped out of his office, glanced around and spotted him.
"Olsen! Grab your camera and get over there!" he commanded.

"Yes, sir!" Jimmy put the printouts Lois had given him down on
the surface of his desk, set his empty coffee mug on top of them
to hold them in place and snatched up his camera. A moment later
he was on his way down the stairs, disdaining to wait for the
elevator. Maybe CK had a point, he reflected as he thrust open
the door to the lobby and headed for the street where he had
parked his motorcycle. It was a lot faster than the elevator. No
wonder CK was such a good newsman -- and managed to stay in such
good shape, too. Jimmy roared away from the curb, barely missing
the front fender of a taxi. Maybe, he thought, his career as a
photojournalist was looking up. He'd actually been Perry's first
choice this time. He'd be extra-careful to get some good shots
for the paper. Maybe if he was very lucky, he'd even get one on
the front page.

**********

The flames were finally out, and the three smoke-stained
superheroes exited the chemical plant after checking to be
certain that there was no chance of the fire re-igniting.
Investigators wearing breathing gear and special suits to
prevent chemical contamination were already entering the
building to attempt to determine the cause of the blaze.

William Henderson and Ultra Woman followed Superman as he led
the way to the fire chief. Chief Walters was speaking to one of
his men as they approached. The other man nodded.

"Right away," he said and hurried after the group of men
preparing to stow their fire fighting tools back onto one of the
big hook-and-ladder trucks. Walters turned to them.

"Did you need anything?" he asked.

"No." Superman acted as their spokesman. "We just wanted to let
you know that we've checked to be sure there's no chance of
re-ignition. It's your baby, now."

Walters smiled a little. "Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome," Superman replied. The three of them lifted off
together. Once well out of hearing range, he turned to
Henderson. "Does the Black Knight want to talk to Commissioner
Brighton, or would you rather one of us did it? How well does he
know you -- Inspector Henderson, that is?"

Henderson snorted. "And I used to think it was strange hearing
you talk about yourself in the third person. Now I'm doing it."
He shook his head. "I'm going to have an identity crisis if I'm
not careful. I think we'd better do this together. That way
there'll be no room for misinterpretation. Brighton'll be able
to tell the representative from New York that all three of us
said 'no' in no uncertain terms."

"I agree," Lois said. "I know these bureaucrats. They want what
they want when they want it and think they can invoke a city
ordinance or something to make it happen, even when there's no
rule covering the situation. We're going to have to remind them
that, as private citizens, we have the right to live and work
where we choose and no state official can change it."

"I have to agree," Clark said. "I sympathize with New York --
but we live in Metropolis."

"Just because we live here, it doesn't mean we can't do them a
favor once in a while," Lois added, "but demanding that the
Metro Police Force transfer one of us to them is getting a
little presumptuous, don't you think?"

Neither Henderson nor Superman answered the obvious. Clark
glanced at his companions. "I take it we're all agreed?"

"I think so," Henderson said. "I think only one of us should do
the talking, though."

Lois nodded vigorously. "I agree. You still act too much like
Bill Henderson. You're getting better," she added as Henderson
cast a sideways glance at her, "but you and I are still new at
this, and you contact Brighton pretty often as yourself. You
don't need to take the chance."

"I'm not arguing," Henderson said. "That's why I think that
Clark should be the spokesman, and you and I should keep our
mouths shut."

"All right," Clark said. "When should we do this?"

"No time like the present," Henderson said. "Brighton said to
pass the message to one of the supermen if we could. If we all
show up at once, I can't see him refusing to see us."

Lois glanced down. "There's Jimmy," she said irrelevantly.
"Think we should talk to him? He's waving at us."

"Sure," Clark said. "Let's give him a quote and then we'll head
over to see Brighton."

The three of them swooped down to land on the sidewalk next to
the younger man.

"Hi, Jimmy," Clark said. "I'm sure you know my friend, Ultra
Woman, but I don't think you've met the Knight before. Jimmy
Olsen, Black Knight."

Henderson nodded briskly.

Jimmy's eyes were huge as he looked from one to the other of
them. "Gosh," he said. Then he appeared to recollect his
purpose. "What happened in there?" he asked.

"It looked like an accident," Clark said, "but of course we
won't know for sure until the investigators have finished their
work. The fire was fueled by a shipment of volatile chemicals
that apparently arrived this morning and hadn't been properly
stored yet."

"Do you think there'll be any environmental consequences?" Jimmy
asked dutifully.

"I'm not qualified to give an opinion on that," Superman said,
"but we got it under control pretty quickly."

"Okay," Jimmy said. "Do you mind if I take a picture of the
three of you together?"

"No problem," Clark said. The three of them assumed their usual
heroic poses and moved closer together. "How's this?"

"That's great!" Jimmy snapped two photos. "At least one of those
should turn out pretty good. It was a pleasure meeting you," he
said to Henderson.

"Likewise," Henderson said.

"Now, if you'll excuse us," Clark said, aware that several other
journalists had noticed their presence and were converging on
them, "we have an appointment with the Police Commissioner."

"Sure!" Jimmy stammered. "Thanks a lot!"

They lifted off, and Lois was aware that her youthful colleague
snapped several more pictures as they flew away.

"That's a good way to deal with people who know Inspector
Henderson," she remarked to the police inspector as they flew.
"Keep it short and sweet."

"Point taken," Henderson said. "No need to rub it in. Let's get
this thing over with."

**********

The three superheroes stepped through the doors of the Twelfth
Precinct. Commissioner Brighton was making the precinct his
headquarters today, since his office upstairs was being painted
and, as Henderson recalled him mentioning at the meeting this
morning, the paint fumes gave him a headache. Henderson remained
silent as Superman walked up to the desk and spoke to the
officer currently manning it. John Braxton, Henderson noted.

"Inspector Henderson tells me that Commissioner Brighton wants
to speak to the three of us. Could you let him know we're
here?"

The young officer regarded the superhero thoughtfully. "Do you
have an appointment, Superman?" he inquired.

"No. Henderson told us to drop by when we could."

"I believe the Commissioner is in a meeting," the young man
said. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait."

Meeting? Henderson didn't remember any meetings that Brighton
had scheduled today. A quick glance with his x-ray vision toward
the room that his boss had commandeered for the afternoon showed
him Brighton listening to the radio and frowning over what
Henderson could see were vacation schedules. Not exactly high
priority work when Superman wanted to speak to him. He glanced
at Johnny's face and could see the faintest of smirks twitching
the corners of his mouth. Johnny was apparently enjoying his
tiny position of power a little too much.

"Excuse me a moment," he told Lois. "I'll be right back."

He left the room at high speed, and re-entered a moment later
from the rear as himself. "Superman and Ultra Woman?" he said.
"I take it you're here to speak to Commissioner Brighton?"

"Yes," Lois said, a touch of acidity to her tone. "Officer
Braxton here seems to think we need an appointment."

Henderson turned to eye the young officer with a raised brow. "I
believe you were informed with the others that the Commissioner
wanted to speak to Superman, Ultra Woman or the Black Knight if
you were to see one of them, weren't you?"

Johnny squirmed slightly. "It slipped my mind," he said.

Henderson's eyebrow climbed a little higher. "I think you and I
need to have a little talk about certain unwritten rules around
here, Officer Braxton," he said. "See me in my office before you
go off shift."

Johnny nodded, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Yes, sir," he
said.

"And give the Commissioner a call to let him know Superman and
Ultra Woman are here to see him," he added. He glanced back at
his fellow superheroes. "Sorry for the misunderstanding," he
said.

"That's all right," Clark said, a little uncomfortably.

Henderson nodded politely to Lois and exited via the front
doors, to return seconds later as the Black Knight. "Sorry," he
said. "Kid's cat was stuck in a tree."

Johnny had been speaking into the phone, and now he turned to
them. "Sorry about the wait," he said. "Go right in. Conference
Room 3 on your left, halfway down the hall.

"Thanks," Clark told him. The three of them proceeded down the
hallway.

**********

Norma Randall awoke at the sound of rapping on the bedroom door,
and a glance at the alarm clock told her that it was nearly four
in the afternoon.

"Norma!" her husband's voice called from the other side of the
door. "Are you all right?"

"Just a minute," she called as she pushed back the sheet and
slid out of bed.

"What's going on?" Neil asked when she unlocked and opened the
door. "Why'd you lock the door?"

Looking back now, the whole incident seemed silly. She shrugged.
"It wasn't important. I was a little spooked when I got home.
The Midtown Rapist broke into someone's place last night. I took
the report."

"Oh," Neil said. "I guess I can't exactly blame you. Have I
mentioned that I'm going to be really glad when you're off the
night shift?"

"No gladder than I will be," Norma said. She lifted her face to
kiss her handsome husband. "I just wish you didn't have to
travel so much on business."

"So do I," he said. "At least this trip will be short." He set
his briefcase inside the bedroom door. "Let me get changed and
put my bags in the car, and then you and I can go get something
to eat."

"All right," she said. "What should I wear?"

"Something casual. I figured we could go over to Mi Casa and
have a nice dinner before I have to leave."

"That'll be nice," Norma said. "I *am* sort of in the mood for
Mexican food."

**********

Mi Casa was doing a reasonably good business for a Thursday
night, Norma thought as she and Neil walked into the place an
hour later. It was just past five, and the usual dinner crowd
hadn't really begun yet, which was fine with her. The slightly
creepy feeling of earlier in the day hadn't quite gone away. She
hoped she wasn't developing a case of nerves over the Midtown
Rapist. The man was just a sleazy coward who, for some reason,
needed to take out his anger toward women in a particularly vile
way. If he were to be so stupid as to come after her, she could
handle him. She'd certainly handled worse in the five years she
had been a cop.

There was a couple seated in the waiting area that drew her
attention. For a second, she couldn't think why the man looked
familiar and then with a jolt she recognized Bill Henderson.
Instead of the usual drab trousers and rumpled jacket that she
was used to seeing him wear, he was nicely dressed in a pair of
tan slacks and a contrasting sports coat, his black, lightly
greying hair was neatly combed and there was no sign of the dark
glasses that he habitually wore at the Precinct. Accompanying
him was a small, dark-haired, very pretty, and very pregnant
woman that must be his wife. Norma had heard from someone that
Bill Henderson's wife was due to have a baby any time, but the
thought of anyone of his age becoming a parent had been hard to
visualize. On the other hand, Bill would probably be a very good
father to his son or daughter. She had seen him deal with the
occasional child that somehow made his or her way into their
station. For all his cynicism with his colleagues, Bill
Henderson liked kids, and more tellingly, kids liked him.

She tugged on Neil's hand. "I see a friend of mine. Come over
and be introduced."

Obediently, Neil followed her as she led the way to a pair of
empty chairs next to Henderson and his wife. "Hi, Bill! Painting
the town red tonight?"

Henderson smiled dryly. "Absolutely," he deadpanned. "I plan on
dancing on the tables -- if I can find a lampshade."

The image almost made Norma choke. His wife gave a snort of
laughter.

"I hope you'll reconsider," Norma said, trying for an equally
deadpan expression. "Somebody might have to call a cop."

"True," Henderson said solemnly. "I guess I'll have to pass,
then. By the way, have you met my wife? Sue, this is Norma
Randall, one of our people at the Precinct. Norma, Sue."

"Pleased to meet you," Norma said. "This is my husband, Neil.
Neil, I've mentioned Inspector Henderson, haven't I?"

"Once or twice," Neil said, extending a hand. "Good to meet you,
Inspector." He paused. "Weren't you the officer that was nearly
hit by lightning a few months ago? I seem to recall something
about an assassination attempt, and then a near miss by a
lightning bolt."

"Yeah, that was me, all right," Henderson said. "During the
Quigley trial."

"Now I remember," Neil said. "You seem to lead exciting lives
down at the station."

"Only occasionally," Henderson said. "We prefer it dull."

"That's for sure," Norma said. She turned to Sue Henderson. "I
heard that you were supposed to be having a baby soon. Is this
your first?"

"Yes," Sue said. "We're kind of in a holding pattern right now.
The doctor told me that we could easily go another week,
though."

"Well, if your husband doesn't show up at work some day soon,
we'll know where to find him," Norma said. "Congratulations,
sir."

"Thank you," Henderson said.

"Henderson, party of two," the loudspeaker announced abruptly.

"That's us," Henderson said. "Enjoy your dinner. I'll see you in
the morning, Randall."

"Hopefully not," Norma said, and Sue laughed.

After the Hendersons had disappeared, Neil glanced around and
went to select one of the take-out menus from a rack on the
wall. "While we're waiting, I guess we can check over what's
available. Too bad you can't have a glass of wine, honey, but I
guess it wouldn't be a good idea."

"Not tonight," Norma agreed. "I'm on duty in a few hours." The
faint feeling of uneasiness that had led her to lock her door
this morning before going to sleep had returned. "I hope it's a
quiet night."

"So do I. Try to stay out of trouble until the end of the
month," Neil said. "Then you'll be on the day shift."

"Don't think I'm not looking forward to it," Norma said. She
reached out to take a second menu for herself. "Let's see; what
should I pick ...."

**********
	
The fingers of his left hand hurt where that woman's boyfriend
had cut him. He owed the guy something for that. The watcher
shifted his position slightly to ease the ache of muscles in his
right arm as he held the binoculars to his eyes. His mission
this morning had been a bust. The boyfriend shouldn't have been
there. He'd thought the guy was supposed to be out of town for
another day, but he'd come back early and interfered with the
plan.

He lowered the binoculars after another moment. It looked as if
Norma Randall was going to be a while. He could wait. Judging by
the bags that she and her husband had loaded into her car, he
was going on a trip of some kind. That was convenient. It would
help make up for last night.

He absently twisted the wedding ring that he still wore. If only
his hand didn't hurt so much. And the whole side of the first
finger had no feeling. The bandage that he had applied
one-handed was clumsy and bulky, covering the thumb and
forefinger of his hand, but the whole digit had a disturbingly
numb feel to it. The knife must have sliced the big nerve there,
but he didn't dare go to the hospital for treatment. The police
would be looking for someone seeking treatment for a cut hand.
He would just have to take care of it as well as he could. If
the woman had been alone like she was supposed to have been,
this wouldn't have happened. He could have completed his
business and gone on his way. Now he'd have to make Norma
Randall pay in the other woman's place.

He'd seen her enter the house a short time after he'd managed to
get away from the boyfriend, and had approached her car in the
faint hope of finding something to identify her. In common with
many cops, she had left her door unlocked and he'd taken
advantage of the error of omission to check the envelope lying
face down on the passenger seat, and from that he'd found her
name and address. That had been a stroke of luck that he hadn't
expected. He'd located her house, intending to scout out the
premises, but the door had been locked when he tried it and
before he could jimmy the lock, that guy across the street had
come out to work on his garden. He'd departed casually,
reasonably certain that he hadn't been noticed, but then he'd
sat in his car, pretending to read the paper, waiting for her to
come home so he could be certain that she was the one.

He'd been lucky, too. She'd shown up barely fifteen minutes
later. Stupid woman. A cop, no less, he thought derisively.
Women in positions of authority annoyed him. Women always tried
to tell a guy what to do. His mother had been a big, domineering
woman who had run his life until he'd left home. He'd been
determined that no woman was going to tell him how to live once
he was on his own, but, he reflected, just try to start up any
relationship with a woman and she always seemed to think she
could give the orders. He'd made up his mind that it wouldn't be
that way for him. He was going to give the orders. No woman was
going to push him around ever again. He'd be the boss in his own
home, and if his wife tried to take over, he'd know what to do
about it.

He'd finally found a quiet little woman who seemed to know her
place, but, as might have been expected, she'd gotten too sure
of herself and started to make demands. Take out the trash. Hang
up your coat. Put your glass in the sink. When he'd shown her
who was boss, the neighbors had called the cops! He'd spent the
night in jail and then gone home with a warning when Mary had
refused to press charges in spite of her two-day stay in the
hospital.

He thought that over for several moments, his gaze fixed on the
entrance to Mi Casa. Mary must have thought that he'd learned
his lesson, he thought grimly, but the next time had been
easier. He'd shown her. He'd put her in the hospital again, but
she'd still refused to press charges.

He still couldn't believe that the woman had had the stupidity
to defy him after that. And when the cops had let him go the
next time, he'd gone home to wait for his wife to return home,
determined to have it out -- but she didn't return. And when
he'd gone to work the fourth day after her release from the
hospital, he'd come home to find her things gone.

Women were worthless, he thought. They needed to be taught a
good lesson. Especially women in positions of authority, like
that woman last night. He'd first seen her in a local Cost Mart,
where it turned out that she was some kind of supervisor. He'd
seen her scolding one of the cashiers and that was when he'd
chosen her as his next target. He'd tracked her for days, mapped
out her schedule, and learned that her boyfriend was going to be
on a business trip for two nights. Only the guy had come back
too soon.

He'd come back to her later, though, once she thought she was
safe. The female cop was a better choice for now, anyway. A
female cop had been the one who had nearly caught him in Albany.
She'd actually pulled his mask off. He'd managed to get away,
but things had been getting too hot for some time, so he'd
decided to change locations to Metropolis. Mary was as likely to
be there as anywhere else. He seemed to recall her saying once
that she had a relative -- a cousin or something -- in
Metropolis, anyhow, so it was just possible that she was
someplace in the city. It was too bad he'd never listened much
to what Mary said, and he didn't remember what the name was. In
any case, however, Metropolis was a big city, even bigger than
Albany. It was easy to be anonymous here.

He raised the binoculars to his eyes again. No sign of the cop
yet. That was all right, though. He could be patient. Patience
was a virtue, he'd always been told. He hadn't made sure of his
last target. This time he would. He needed to be certain that
this time there would be no interruptions.

**********

By the time Bill and Sue Henderson left Mi Casa, a light rain
had begun to fall. Bill unfurled the umbrella he had brought
along just in case the weather forecasters were right for once.
"See, sometimes it's a good thing to be prepared," he remarked.

Sue conceded the point with a small grin. "Well, even a stopped
clock is right twice a day," she observed. "Since when have you
started listening to weather forecasters?"

"I haven't," Henderson said, glancing around as they approached
the crosswalk. "But I didn't want the evening ruined by coming
back soaking wet."

"Hmm."

The light in their direction turned green, and together they
stepped out into the street. Henderson glanced in the direction
of the stopped traffic once more, out of his usual distrust of
Metropolitan drivers on a wet night. People tended to
overestimate their visibility as well as their driving skill far
too frequently on a night like this. From the darkened interior
of a car half a block up the street, the glint of light
reflecting off glass caught his eye. Instinctively curious, he
trained his enhanced vision on the reflection, and saw that it
was coming from the lenses of a pair of binoculars. The man was
leaning forward in the driver's seat, resting his right elbow on
the steering wheel and holding the device one-handed, apparently
watching the entrance to Mi Casa.

"What is it?" Sue asked. She always seemed to know when he was
using his super powers, Henderson thought, wondering how she
accomplished the feat. Sue was one of the most observant people
he knew. She'd been a witness to a robbery the day they had met
and he recalled wishing that all witnesses had the keen ability
for observation and attention to detail that she did.

"There's some guy sitting in his car up the way, watching the
restaurant with a pair of binoculars," he said. Well, he
supposed there was nothing illegal about what the man was doing
but it was always possible that he was a lookout for a robbery
or something. Henderson took note of the man's face for possible
future identification and then the license. Then, if it turned
out there actually was a robbery at the place, he would at least
have some idea where to start looking.

"Write it down as soon as we get in the car," Sue advised, and
he almost laughed at the realization that his pretty wife knew
exactly what he was thinking. Sue was a smart lady, he thought
again, but then he'd known that for a long time. If he were the
sort to tolerate law breaking, he'd have been tempted to thank
the guys who had held up that jewelry store for doing him a
favor. If it hadn't been for that, he might never have met her.

Following her advice, as soon as they'd shut the doors he
located the notebook that always stayed in their car in order to
record gas mileage and scribbled down the license number and a
brief description of the car. The plate was from New York, he
noted. If the guy was here to rob a restaurant, it seemed like a
long way to go but, as he was well aware, accounting for the
things people did was a useless endeavor.

"What's he doing now?" Sue asked.

"Still watching the restaurant. You know, maybe the Black Knight
should have a word with this guy."

"Maybe," Sue agreed. "If he's not doing anything illegal, it
won't hurt, and if he's up to something, it might make him think
twice. That's better than having some employee of the restaurant
get hurt." She raised an eyebrow in an exact imitation of him.
"Well, go on. Let's see some black armor."

"It's not armor." Henderson felt it necessary to correct her.
"It's a jumpsuit."

"Maybe, but you're still a knight -- and you might as well be
wearing armor. Move it, Sir Bill."

Henderson grinned and stepped out of the car. Casually, he
sauntered toward the nearest alley, which his x-ray vision had
already told him was empty of human life. As he made his
lightning change to his other identity, he wondered peripherally
if his wife's choice of his name -- the Black Knight -- had
anything to do with the fact that cops were sometimes called
knights in blue. He was a cop, even though he no longer wore a
uniform, so maybe she had quietly slipped a double meaning into
his moniker.

Exiting the alley straight upward, he made his descent to the
street directly behind the car in question in time to see the
occupant lean forward suddenly, tension in every line of his
body. Listening closely, he could hear the man's heartbeat
accelerate and wondered for a second if the fellow had noticed
him. But no; his attention seemed to be on the couple exiting
the establishment, and Henderson took an instant to glance in
the direction that the binoculars were trained, noting that the
apparent objects of his interest were Neil and Norma Randall.
That was interesting, to say the least, he thought.

Instead of immediately making himself known to the observer, he
stood unobtrusively where he had landed, watching to see what
would happen. The man followed the couple's progress as they
headed for the lot where their car was parked, then laid down
the binoculars and reached for the ignition.

"Hey! It's the Knight!" someone's voice said loudly.

"Cool!" Several people in their late teens converged on the car,
and Henderson saw the car's occupant glance back with an
expression of complete shock on his face. He heard the man's
heart give a sharp jolt and begin to pound more loudly, and the
engine of the car started up with a roar. He couldn't peel away
from the curb, however, because of the teenagers that were now
rushing toward Henderson. Bill stepped forward, making his way
effortlessly through the gathering crowd, and leaned toward the
window. After a moment of hesitation, the driver seemed to make
up his mind and rolled it down.

"Can I help you?" he inquired. The voice was completely calm. If
not for his super hearing, which detected the racing pulse,
Henderson was quite sure he would have been fooled.

"Is there a particular reason you're sitting here with
binoculars, watching the entrance of that restaurant, sir?"
Henderson inquired mildly.

"Uh -- not exactly," the man said, but Henderson heard his heart
rate increase again. The guy's pulse must be nearly two hundred,
he thought. Something was definitely wrong here.

"I see. Well, I noticed you a while ago," he said, "and you've
been watching the doors for some time. I have no authority, of
course, but unless you have important business here, or are
waiting for someone, I'd suggest you go someplace else to
observe Metropolis's night life." He paused. "A word to the
wise, sir."

"Uh -- sure," the other man said. "Sorry."

"No problem," Henderson said. He turned to the crowd of teens.
"Please move away and let the car out," he requested calmly.

Obediently, the crowd parted. One of the girls in the group was
extending a small notebook and pen toward him. "Could I have
your autograph?" she inquired with the breathless eagerness that
Henderson was beginning to recognize. The young lady was one of
his groupies.

With a certain amount of resignation, Henderson took the
notebook and signed his alias with his left hand. Fortunately,
due to a particular incident several years ago that had left him
with several broken fingers and the necessity of wearing a cast
for several weeks, he was adept at writing left-handed. He
figured that, and the fact that he wore gloves, was a reasonably
sufficient disguise for his handwriting if anyone ever tried to
identify it. Besides, how likely was it that the Black Knight's
handwriting would be compared to that of a police inspector's,
anyway?

Several other of the teens were also thrusting forward scraps of
paper for him to sign. He did so, watching from the corner of
his eye as the driver of the blue sedan pulled away. As he
handed back the last autograph and lifted gracefully off into
the slowly increasing drizzle, he made a mental resolution to
run a check on that license plate. Something about the whole
situation gave him an uneasy feeling. It wouldn't hurt to find
out a little more about the car's owner.

A few seconds later, Inspector Henderson was getting back into
his own car. Behind him, the car belonging to Norma Randall and
her husband pulled out of the parking lot and turned left.
Within seconds, their taillights had also disappeared into the
traffic that filled the streets of Metropolis even on a night
such as this.

"What happened?" Sue asked.

He told her as he started the car, checked over his shoulder and
pulled carefully out into the slowly moving traffic. Sue
listened without comment until he had finished.

"That was weird," she said finally.

"Yeah," Henderson agreed. "Something wasn't right; that's for
sure. I'm going to run a check on the license in the morning."

She nodded. "I think that's a good idea. Why would a guy be
watching Norma?"

"I don't know, but I don't like it," he said.

"Maybe she gave him a ticket or something," Sue suggested.
"Could he be a stalker?"

"Anything's possible," Henderson said. "Cops have been stalked
before by people with a grudge."

"That's kind of scary." His wife's hand crept over his on the
gearshift. "It's too bad a bunch of your fans showed up just
then. Have I mentioned before how happy I am that you have
Superman's powers? At least I don't have to worry about some nut
trying to take revenge on you."

He smiled at her. "Even if I didn't have the powers, I have
every intention of seeing this baby grow up," he said. "I've got
too much to live for to let myself get killed. How are *you*
feeling, by the way?"

"Same as always," she said. "Let's get home as soon as possible,
though. I need to visit the restroom again."

"I guess that's another thing you won't miss once she's born,"
Henderson said.

"Don't tell me you peeked," Sue said. "You know what we agreed
on."

"Nope. Cross my heart," he said. "I just think it's going to be
a girl, that's all."

"Oh," she said, slightly mollified. "Don't you want a boy to
carry on the family name?"

"My brother's got four boys," he pointed out. "The family name
isn't in any danger of dying out. Anyway, I don't really care
which it is as long as it's healthy."

"I'm glad," Sue said. "My dad was always disappointed that he
had three girls. When my brother was born, he just about forgot
we existed."

Henderson snorted. "I don't want to say anything bad about your
dad," he remarked, "but that's a lousy attitude to have. The
human race would be in really bad shape if we stopped having
girls. Besides, I'm pretty glad you're here. I just somehow
wouldn't have the same attitude about you if you were a guy."

Sue giggled. "I'm happy about that!" she said.

**********

The watcher drove aimlessly around the city for nearly an hour,
following his unexpected encounter with the Black Knight. The
whole incident had thoroughly shaken him. It hadn't occurred to
him that anyone was likely to notice a guy just sitting in a car
in the dark, but obviously he had underestimated the vigilance
of the city's super heroes.

The presence of the three super-powered beings had never really
worried him before. Metropolis was a very large city and as long
as he made an effort to avoid being noticed, the chances of it
happening had seemed slight. During his little ventures as a
crusader for personal justice, he'd always made certain that the
women that he chose for his lessons were unable to make any
noise or in any way draw attention to the situation until it was
much too late. Until last night, when things had gone completely
wrong, it had worked perfectly. And then the Black Knight had
seen him tonight.

Why had the Knight noticed him? The man certainly didn't fly
around checking out all the parked cars on the streets every
night, he thought. It would be a ridiculous waste of time.
Somehow, something must have drawn his attention, but it was
very likely just bad luck. His dad had always told him that bad
luck ran in threes, so he would just have to be extremely
careful for a while, he decided. At least the Knight hadn't
connected his activity with the cop. It didn't really matter if
he followed her for the rest of the evening, anyway. She'd be at
the 12th Precinct tonight, and would return to her home in the
morning. He could wait.

For an uneasy moment, he wondered vaguely if the superhero was
tracking him, flying above him in the dark to see where he went,
but after a moment he discarded the notion. At the worst, the
guy had probably thought he was casing out the restaurant for a
robbery or something, and was undoubtedly congratulating himself
on stopping it before it went any farther. When nothing
happened, he'd probably forget entirely about the incident.
After all, the guy broke up crimes of one sort or another
practically every day. Why should he remember a robbery that
didn't happen?
,
Satisfied that he had found the perfect solution to his problem,
he turned toward downtown. Going to a movie theater was probably
a good idea, he decided, just in case the Knight did decide to
check on him. He'd been wanting to see "Return of The Texas
Chainsaw Massacre," showing at the Metro Gold Cinema, for a
while, anyhow. It would be just as well to take the night off.
He could go back to business tomorrow.

**********

"Any luck on those prints?" Lois asked. She had just stepped off
the elevator and was fortunate enough to snag Jimmy Olsen as he
contemplated the contents of the candy machine.

"Not yet." Jimmy said, studying the offerings on display.
"Friends of mine are checking the print databases in the seven
cities, but so far no one's gotten back to me. Whoever this guy
is, it's possible he's got some kind of record. You don't just
jump into being a serial rapist overnight. He's probably had
trouble with the law before, one way or another -- probably
fairly minor. But if it was something serious enough for him to
be arrested -- even if no action was ever taken --- they'll have
his fingerprints on file. If we can match them, we'll have an ID
on our rapist."

"Kind of a long shot," Lois said, glancing at her watch. She
needed to hurry. Bobby Bigmouth was expecting to meet Clark and
her in the park in twenty minutes. Hopefully, Superman wouldn't
delay him this morning.

"I know," Jimmy said in reply to her comment, "but it's about
the only angle we have right now. My guess is that he was doing
this where he was before, wherever that was. Maybe things were
getting too hot and he decided to change locations, but whatever
his reasons, I'm betting that he's had a run-in or two with the
law for other things."

"You're probably right," Lois said. "Maybe he'll have been
arrested for petty theft or something."

"You never know," Jimmy said. "I'll let you know if anyone gets
back to me." He scowled at the candy bars. "You'd think they'd
at least have Double-crunch Fudge Bars or something."

"Nope," Lois said. "I order them by the box. The guys upstairs
are too cheap to put any quality bars in this thing. They've
even discontinued Clark Bars."

"Yeah, I know," Jimmy said disgustedly. "Maybe I should just get
a sandwich."

"Not out of that machine," Lois advised. "The last time I got a
sandwich out of there, the bread was moldy. If I were you, I'd
go down to the lunchroom. It may not be gourmet, but at least
you know you're not going to get salmonella. Besides, didn't you
get breakfast?"

Jimmy shrugged, looking embarrassed. "I'm a little short this
month. They cut off my power yesterday and everything in the
refrigerator was -- well, you don't want to know, but I couldn't
eat it."

"Why don't you ask Perry for a raise?" Lois asked. "You're a
pretty good photojournalist. They can at least pay you a living
wage."

"Thanks," Jimmy said, obviously gratified.

"Only the truth." Lois patted him lightly on the head and made a
beeline for her desk.

The blinds to Perry's office were open, she noticed absently as
she rummaged in her desk drawer for a tape recorder and a
notepad and pen. Seated on the couch in his office, she could
see a young, blond woman who was surreptitiously shredding the
edge of the latest edition of the Planet that lay on the leather
cushion beside her. Little pieces of newspaper confetti lay on
the carpet all around her feet.

Clark wasn't around to chastise her for snooping. Lois trained
her super-hearing on the office.

"I don't want to take advantage of our relationship, Uncle
Perry," the blond was saying. "I'll get some kind of job. I've
hidden long enough. I don't think he's going to find me, at
least after all this time."

"Probably not," her boss's voice said kindly, "but you're
already behind on your rent and bills. You need a job now, not
later. This one will give you set hours so you'll be able to get
something part time if you need to supplement your income for a
while, just in order to catch up. Since you won't take a loan
from me, this is the next best choice. You won't be freeloading,
if that's what you're afraid of."

The blonde nodded. "I swore I wouldn't take advantage of
anyone," she said. "My dad was horrible that way, and I don't
want to be like him."

"Mary," Perry said, "your dad was a bully and a freeloader.
Nobody was happier than Alice and I were when your mom threw him
out, but you aren't your dad. No one in the family ever thought
you were. You're hard-working and honest."

"But my marriage came apart, just like Mom's," Mary said. "I
tried to hold it together -- I really did. But I couldn't stay
any longer."

"That's because Robert was a jerk," Perry said with unaccustomed
venom. "No woman deserves to be beaten, no matter how angry a
man is. You were smart to leave him. Now, are you going to take
the job or not?"

She hesitated. "I guess I don't have much choice," she said
finally. "I just wish I didn't feel like I was getting this job
under false pretenses."

"You aren't," Perry said. "This is a real job with real work to
do. If you do your best, no one will think for a minute that I
hired you just because you're Alice's niece. Now, I'll get Jimmy
to take you down to start the paperwork. He's the best person
you can ask about how to do the job, if you have any questions
about it. He was the office gofer up to a few months ago. Now
he's a junior photojournalist and the office computer guru."
Perry paused. "Don't tell him I said that, though. He won't mind
helping you get started."

"I hope not." The blond woman's voice sounded very uncertain.

"Take it from me: he won't. Jimmy's a nice kid. He'll be glad to
help you."

"You wouldn't be listening in again, would you?" Clark's low,
amused voice asked. Lois nearly dropped her tape recorder, but
caught it at the last second. She cast her husband an annoyed
look.

Clark raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't add to his comment.
Lois knew she shouldn't have been eavesdropping on the private
conversation but her insatiable curiosity was hard to resist.
She watched out of the corner of her eye as the door to Perry's
office opened.

"Jimmy!" Their boss's voice cut easily over the hubbub of the
newsroom getting into gear for the day. "C'mere!"

"New hire?" Clark asked.

"I thought you didn't want to know," Lois said. "That's Alice's
niece. Her name's Mary. She's left her husband, who abused her,
and needs a job but she doesn't want to sponge off her family.
Perry's practically pushing her into the job."

"Oh." Clark glanced quickly at the young woman and away.

Jimmy hurried across the room in response to Perry's call and
Lois turned back toward the steps that led to the elevator.
Clark followed her with that bouncy stride peculiar to him. They
had about ten minutes before they were due to meet Bobby
Bigmouth. Maybe the best snitch in the city could give them some
information.

**********

The day was bright and sunny as Bill Henderson climbed the steps
of the 12th Precinct. He glanced at his watch and scowled. True
to form, Sue was holding out to the bitter end. Her due date had
been yesterday, but her doctor had made no promises. Henderson
forbore to try to tell the man his job, but that line he'd
quoted to the pair of them at yesterday's appointment had been
annoying. "When the apple is ripe, it'll fall off the tree,"
he'd said, pompously, to Henderson's vast annoyance. Talk about
the obvious! And then, of course, after dinner at Mi Casa, Sue
had gone through four hours of false labor. Talk about a
letdown!

But, he reminded himself, it couldn't go on much longer. Sue had
been even more disappointed than he was, but she'd lifted her
chin and pointed out that one of these days the false labor
would turn into the real thing. It was just a matter of time.

He could hear the TV chattering away in the back office again,
and he made his way toward the room. Dan, the janitor, was just
hanging up his jacket on the coat rack behind the door as
Henderson entered.

"Oops, sorry." Henderson caught the door before it collided with
the man.

Dan grinned. "I've been telling the boss he should move this
thing before somebody gets a concussion, but nobody ever listens
to me."

"Me either," Henderson said. "Everything quiet?"

"Well, there was a fight between two drunks in the tank," Dan
said. "Had to stick one in a different cell. Other than that, I
guess it's been pretty quiet."

"Huh," Henderson said. "Sounds like the beginning of the kind of
day I like."

He went on into the room. Norma Randall was drinking a cup of
tea while seated in a folding chair in front of the small
television that occupied one corner of the room. Harriet, the
night dispatcher was gathering up her things preparatory to
leaving.

"Morning," she said as he passed her in the aisle.

"Good morning," Henderson said. "Quiet night?"

"Pretty much," Harriet said. "Two of the guys in the tank tried
to beat each other up."

"So I heard. What happened?"

"Beats me. They were yelling at each other and one of them took
a poke at the other one. The other guys in the place were
complaining they couldn't get any sleep with two drunk guys
crashing around all over the place, so Johnson took one and
stuck him in the cell next door. That pretty much broke up the
fight."

Johnson always took the direct approach, Henderson thought
approvingly. "I guess no sign of our Midtown Rapist?"

"Not a peep -- not that anyone's complaining."

"Let's hope the boyfriend put him out of commission for a
while," Henderson said.

"Amen to that," Harriet said. She picked up her purse. "Night
all."

"Night," Henderson said absently. He moved toward Norma, who had
finished her tea and was getting to her feet. "Can I speak to
you a minute, Randall?"

"Huh? Sure." Norma tossed the Styrofoam cup into the nearest
trashcan.

"In the hall," Henderson said.

"Huh?" Norma looked slightly surprised, but followed him
obediently into the hall. "What's going on?"

"I wanted to pass along a word of warning," Henderson said. "I
had a word with the Knight this morning. Last night, when you
left Mi Casa, there was a guy watching you from a car halfway
down the block. He got the license, and I'm going to run it for
him first chance I get, but I thought you should know about
it."

"Who was he?"

"The Knight didn't know. He chased the guy off, but wasn't able
to follow him. Whoever he was, he was real interested in you.
You done anything recently to tick someone off?"

"Only the usual," Norma said. She looked a little worried, but
shrugged. "It's probably nothing."

"Probably," Henderson said, "but watch your step anyway. Good
cops are hard to replace."

"Gee, Bill, you're all heart," Norma said.

Henderson grinned sardonically. "I've got an image to preserve.
Be careful, all right?"

"I will. Seriously, though, thanks," Norma said.

"You're welcome," Henderson said.

**********

Norma left the Precinct a few moments later, trying to dismiss
the slight feeling of something crawling on her neck. The
strange incident of the previous morning flashed briefly through
her mind and for a moment she wondered if there could possibly
be any connection. The merest instant of consideration, however,
told her how unlikely that was. After all, who on Earth could
possibly be watching her, and why?

And almost as interesting, how had the Knight spotted him - and
how likely was it that he would have been hanging around Mi Casa
last night just when she and Neil had been leaving the
restaurant? And if this person had been watching her from a car,
as Henderson had said, how had the superhero spotted him? Surely
he didn't go along checking out the occupants of every parked
car on the street.

Something didn't quite add up here. Of course, it was possible
that the Knight had spotted the guy completely by accident, but
it seemed awfully coincidental. On the other hand, coincidences
happened, didn't they? The Knight had made it clear that he was
on the side of law enforcement, but that still didn't really
explain it. He had contacted Henderson and warned him, though.
She figured she could be grateful that he had been around last
night.

Her binoculars were tucked into the side pocket of the car door,
she noticed when she got into her car. That brought to mind the
memory of the last time she had used them: yesterday morning
when she had trained them on the Black Knight while he was busy
clearing up the accident on the expressway. Again, the thought
crossed her mind that the man had seemed oddly familiar. Even in
the jumpsuit, his tall, lean figure had a way of standing and
moving that struck some chord of memory. The fact that he wore a
mask, too, had always impressed her as slightly odd. Why should
he wear that mask if he had nothing to hide?

Ultra Woman also wore a mask, and she had wondered about it the
first time the superwoman had appeared. Why would one of the
superheroes wear a mask unless he - or she - was afraid of being
recognized?

She locked the door of her car and started the engine. Well,
after all, why shouldn't the Knight have a right to a private
life? If she had possessed their incredible powers, would she
spend her entire life flying around looking for people to rescue
and disasters to fix? Of course not. The whole idea was
laughable. She would make darned sure that people didn't know
what she could do, and she would bet her last dollar that the
same was true of the superheroes. The Knight had to have a
civilian identity, and one that it was possible that she knew.
Ultra Woman probably did, too. So what *did* the superheroes do
when they weren't on duty?

The thought of the Black Knight or Ultra Woman living in a
little brick house with a white picket fence was slightly
mind-boggling, but the possibility was difficult to deny. Nobody
could be on duty twenty-four hours a day. And if the Knight and
Ultra Woman had civilian identities, Superman probably did, too,
mask or no mask. But that was a theory that she wasn't likely to
broadcast. The superheroes deserved some down time, and if
people were to find out who they were in civilian life, that
down time would disappear. People would never leave them alone.

Oh, she would certainly pay attention the next time she saw
them. If she knew the Knight in his civilian identity, she might
just figure out who he really was. But it was just as certain
that she wasn't going to tell anyone about it.

When she walked into her house forty minutes later, Norma was
still thinking about her new and fascinating theory - so much so
that she didn't notice the blue car that was pulled up against
the curb halfway down the block. But she did notice the small,
tasteful bouquet of flowers sitting mockingly in the middle of
her kitchen table - something that she was certain hadn't been
there last night when she and Neil had left.

She stared at it in shock for several minutes before she moved
forward to open the folded note that lay beside it.

"Surprise," she read.

There was no signature.

**********

Henderson had just closed his cell phone when it chimed again,
playing the incongruously cheerful music from the Chinese Dance
in the Nutcracker. Henderson didn't know the name of it, but
he'd always liked the music. He flipped it open with a sense of
resignation. He'd been using the instrument almost continuously
for the last forty minutes. "Henderson."

"Bill?" It was Norma Randall's voice. "Have you had time to run
that license yet?"

"I've got Cindy on it," Henderson said, frowning at the tremor
in Norma's usually calm voice. "What's wrong?"

"I just walked into my house," she said. "There's a bouquet of
flowers sitting in the middle of my kitchen table. And an
unsigned note."

"I take it your husband didn't leave them," Henderson said. He
got to his feet and headed out the door of his office. In his
experience, Norma wasn't easily frightened. Maybe it was time
the Black Knight took a hand - in his alter ego of Inspector
Henderson, of course.

"I dropped Neil off at the airport last night," Norma said. "No
one's supposed to have been here since yesterday."

"Give me your address," Henderson said.

Norma gave it. Henderson stepped out the rear exit of the
Precinct. "I'm only a few blocks away. I'll be right there." He
shut off his phone and, an instant later, the Black Knight was
in the air.

He took his time, relatively speaking, so that Inspector
Henderson could reasonably manage to make it to Norma's house
from several streets away. The Knight dropped into a space
between two houses where no windows provided anyone with a view
of something he shouldn't see, and a moment later, Inspector
Henderson was knocking on Norma Randall's door.

He heard her footsteps inside the house and then a long pause
while she checked through the peephole. The door opened.

"Bill -- I mean, Inspector! That was fast."

"I was only a few blocks away," he said. "You sounded a little
-- upset, so I thought I'd better hurry."

"I'm probably over-reacting," Norma said, sounding a little
ashamed of herself. "Cops aren't supposed to be rattled by stuff
like this."

"Why not?" Henderson said. "Cops are human, too. Let's see this
bouquet, and the note."

"They're in the kitchen," Norma said. "I'm afraid my
fingerprints are probably on the note. I picked it up by the
edges, though."

"Well, we'll see what we find," Henderson said. "Do you have a
plastic bag I can put it in? I'm going to have Forensics look at
it. What worries me, though, is the guy that was watching you
last night and now this. It's starting to look like it might not
have been just a random incident after all."

Norma swallowed. "You think it might not be a coincidence?"

"I don't believe in that kind of coincidence," Henderson said.
"Coincidences are usually harmless. This looks more like design.
Tell me, have there been any other 'odd' things that have
happened in the last few days?"

"Well--" Norma hesitated, and Henderson's instincts went on
alert.

"What?" he asked.

"Well, I doubt there's any connection, but--"

"Why don't you let me decide that?" Henderson said. "What
happened?"

She nodded. "All right. I guess you're the detective. Yesterday,
when I got home from work..."

Henderson was silent, frowning slightly as Norma related the
distinctly odd events of the previous morning. At the
conclusion, he asked, "Did you clean off the doorknob?"

Norma stopped, obviously trying to recall. "No, I don't think I
did. Neil and I have both touched it since, though."

"Yeah," Henderson said, "but there might still be some residue
left. If there is, Forensics will be able to tell us what it is.
If it's jelly or something, you can relax." He turned and bent,
examining the doorknob. There was something there: in three
places he could see a faint brownish crusting that would be
barely visible to the naked eye. Henderson trained his
microscopic vision on it and the picture expanded before his
eyes.

It was dried blood, all right -- at least, Henderson was 99%
certain that was what it was. He straightened up. "There's
something still there." He flipped open his cellular phone. "I'm
going to put in a call to the lab boys -- and you and I are
going to stand right here so no ghost can come along and make it
disappear before they get here."

Norma bit her lip. "I guess I should have told you about this
before."

Henderson shook his head. "You had no reason to think it was
important then. No one would have been likely to think anything
of it if this other stuff hadn't happened. It still may be
nothing. Let's just wait until we see what the lab boys have to
say. They can check out the note and vase at the same time,
although I doubt we'll find anything there. The guy would be a
fool not to wear gloves, dropping it off in your kitchen this
way." He hit the speed dial and waited for a moment. "Yes, this
is Henderson..."

**********

"That's pretty much it," Jimmy Olsen said. "Basically whenever
anybody wants something, you go get it. That's why you're called
a gofer. You gofer donuts, you gofer coffee, you gofer pencils
and paper--"

"I think I get it," Mary Owens said with a faint smile. "I guess
you did this for a while, huh?"

"Yeah." Mary was a pretty woman, just about his age, Jimmy
thought. She had a nice smile and the most beautiful eyes he had
ever seen. "I was on the bottom of the food chain while I went
to school part time. I finally got my AA in journalism in June.
Now I'm officially a photojournalist for the paper. That makes
it all worthwhile. Can you handle a computer?"

"Yes, I can. I was a computer science major at our local
community college."

"Well, that's good. Ms. Lane and Mr. Kent'll probably want you
to do some research for them sometimes. I still do it for them a
lot."

"You work with Lois Lane and Clark Kent?" Mary's eyes widened.

"Sure," Jimmy said. "They're pretty cool people."

Mary smiled hesitantly at him. "I guess you really love the
newspaper business, don't you?"

"Yeah," Jimmy said. "I've wanted to be a newspaperman since my
sixth grade class went on a field trip to the Daily Planet."

"It must be nice to be so certain of what you want," Mary said.

"I wasn't always. For a while I was sure I wasn't going to make
it," Jimmy said. "Didn't you ever want something so badly you
could almost taste it?"

"Once." Her expression changed and, for a moment, she looked
lost.

"I'm sorry," Jimmy said quickly.

"No, it's all right." She pasted a smile on her face. "I made a
mistake a while back and lived to regret it, but it's done with.
If I have any questions, do you mind if I ask you for help?"

"Not a bit," Jimmy said. "I'll be glad to help. Come on. I'll
show you where we keep all the supplies now, and Perry said to
give you my old desk. My old computer's got a lot of programs
you might want to keep -- or get rid of if you have something
better for the purpose. This way."

"All right." Mary followed him meekly toward the storeroom.
Jimmy opened the door.

"This is it. Nothing unusual. Just the standard supplies." He
pointed. "Pencils, pens, notepaper, printer paper -- all the
stuff that gets used in a newsroom. You'll probably get a lot of
acquaintance with this place."

"Probably," she said with another smile. "I guess I'm on the
bottom of the food chain now."

"Not for long if you can show Mr. White that you want to do
more," Jimmy said firmly. "Come on and I'll introduce you to
Lois Lane. Clark ran out of here a while ago -- he always seems
to know when there's a breaking story, but you can meet him when
he gets back."

Lois glanced up from her desk as they approached. "Hi, Jimmy.
What's up?"

"This is Mary Owens," Jimmy told her. "She's taking my old
job."

"I heard," Lois said. "The office grapevine is right on the ball
today." She stood up and extended a hand. "Glad to meet you,
Mary. I have to meet a source across town in half an hour, so
I'd better go. I'm waiting for a fax from Bolivia. If it comes
in while I'm out, put it on my desk, would you?" She picked up
her recorder. "See you later; and don't forget what I told you,
Jimmy."

"Huh?" Jimmy asked.

"About the raise," she said, and headed for the door with
restrained haste.

"Oh," Jimmy said as she vanished through the door to the
stairs.

"Raise?" Mary asked, timidly.

"Oh," Jimmy said. "My power got shut off because I wasn't able
to pay my bill on time. All the food in my fridge spoiled."

"That's terrible!" Mary said. "Well, if Ms. Lane thinks you
should ask for a raise, maybe you should."

"I'm thinking about it."

"Perry told me not to tell you, but he said you're the office
computer guru," Mary said in a lower voice. "I think he values
you more than you realize."

Jimmy looked thoughtfully at her. It sounded to him as if Mary
knew Perry White better than she was admitting. There was some
kind of mystery here. Maybe he could figure out what it was, but
in the meantime, for once, he was going to take somebody else's
advice and throw caution to the winds. "I'll be right back," he
said. "I'm going to go see him."

**********

As might have been expected, the place that Bobby Bigmouth had
specified for their second meeting of the day was next door to a
restaurant. The snitch was munching on an egg roll as Lois
turned the corner and stepped into the alley behind Ho Chang's
Mongolian Barbecue. Bobby waved a hand vaguely in her direction
and swallowed convulsively. "Hi again," he greeted her. "You got
my lunch?"

She held up the bag but didn't hand it over. "A deli sandwich,
macaroni salad, and raspberry torte for dessert. Have you got
*anything* substantial on this character?"

"Not much," Bobby said. "The word on the street is that he's new
in town, from somewhere in New York, maybe around Albany or
Auburn. Arrived about three months ago, or thereabouts.
Remember, these are just rumors."

"I guess it makes sense, though," Lois said. "The first assault
was about three months ago. Is that it?"

"Maybe not," Bobby said. "He might drive a blue car. A homeless
guy I know was sleeping in an alley on the street where the
victim last week lived. He said he saw a blue car parked on the
corner about the time it must have happened. He'd just finished
a bottle of somethin' a while before, though, so he couldn't
swear to anything for sure. He never talked to the cops, though.
Didn't even know about it 'til he read it in the Planet."

"Since when do the homeless read the Planet?" Lois asked.

"He'd fished it out of the trash to sleep on," Bobby explained.
"Joe used to be a cook at Le Petit Cafe 'til he got caught
drinking the cooking wine. He likes to read the news before
going to sleep."

That figured. "Anything else?"

Bobby shook his head. "Nope. That was the most I could find out.
He's not really likely to advertise himself, you know."

"Yeah," Lois said sourly. "Well, that's better than nothing, I
suppose." Reluctantly, she handed him the paper bag. "If you
find out anything more, call me right away."

"You got it," Bobby said. "Are you into really vague rumors?"

"That depends," Lois said. "Is it just speculation or is there
any truth in it?"

Bobby shrugged. "I dunno. The guy I was talkin' to said he'd
heard that maybe he might have worked in a night club or
something as a sound guy."

"You mean a musician?"

"No, the guy that handles the audio equipment. The mikes and
speakers and stuff."

"Oh, I see," Lois said. "Okay, thanks."

"Remember, that part's just a maybe," Bobby cautioned. "Not
really even a rumor. I'm just passing it along for what it's
worth."

"I know. I'll keep it in mind," Lois said. "If you hear anything
else, let me know right away. This rapist has to be stopped.
Henderson says he thinks it's only a matter of time before he
kills somebody."

"Yeah, I know," Bobby said. "I'll do my best."

"I don't suppose the person you talked to could give you a
name," Lois said.

"'Fraid not," Bobby said. "I'll see what else I can find out,
but don't bet the farm on it."

"Why do I bother to ask," Lois muttered to herself as she turned
down an intersecting alley. A few instants later, Ultra Woman
flashed upward and vanished in the direction of the Daily
Planet.

**********

"He actually gave me a raise!" Jimmy knew there was a slight
note of incredulity in his voice, but he couldn't help it. His
foray into Perry White's office had produced results far beyond
his expectations. Perry had listened to his speech, rubbed the
angle of his jaw while frowning deeply as he thought over the
request and then he'd grinned. "Jimmy, I think you're overdue
for a raise," he said. Jimmy had consciously kept his mouth
closed, even though the muscles of his jaw had wanted to
completely relax in shock.

"Congratulations," Mary said, smiling. "Unc -- Mr. White's bark
is a lot worse than his bite."

"Yeah, I've heard that, but I've never seen any evidence of it
before," Jimmy said. "Thanks for telling me what he said about
me. I wouldn't have had the nerve if you hadn't."

"You're welcome," Mary said a little shyly. "You didn't tell him
what I said, did you?"

"Of course not," Jimmy said. "You asked me not to." He grinned
sideways at her. "Want to go out for a hamburger after work,
just to celebrate?"

She hesitated and then shrugged. "Sure; why not?"

"Great! I know this little place over on 'K' Street that makes
the best chiliburgers you ever tasted. You know how to tell a
great chiliburger?"

She shook her head. "How?"

"By how many napkins you use up while you're eating it!" Jimmy
said triumphantly. "This place supplies 'em by the bushel."

"Sounds wonderful," Mary agreed. "I haven't had a good
chiliburger in years. All right."

"They also have chilidogs, chili fries and chili tamales," Jimmy
assured her. "If you like chili, it's your kind of place."

"Do you have a car?" she asked. "I came on the bus."

"My car's in the shop," Jimmy said. "I rode my motorbike this
morning. Even ridden one?"

Mary shook her head, looking doubtful. "No."

"That's okay. It's perfectly safe. I have an extra helmet in my
locker."

"We...ll ..." Mary hesitated and then nodded again. "All right.
I'll trust you just this once."

Jimmy grinned happily at her.

**********

The forensics team was quick and thorough, as always. Henderson
stood by, watching them, and looking over the house with his
enhanced vision. It was during this exercise that he spotted the
unlatched window.

"Norma," he said quietly to his subordinate, "when was the last
time you checked your doors and windows?"

"Last night, before Neil and I left," Norma said. "I always
do."

"Hmm. Then I guess they were all fastened?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't unlatch any of them this morning?"

Norma was looking alarmed. "No, of course not! I saw the bouquet
and called you!"

"Then I think we'd better double check them," Henderson said.
"Because it looks to me like the latch on your dining room
window is open."

"What?" Norma hurried to check the window.

"Don't touch it," Henderson said. "I want it dusted for prints
first. I doubt there are any, but you never know."

Norma gave a short nod and Henderson heard her heart speed up.
She was scared and trying not to show it.

He spoke to the leader of the forensics team and then
deliberately went from window to window, checking any and all
avenues of access into the house, and discovered that the
basement door was unlocked. In the interests of thoroughness, he
checked the basement and discovered that one of the basement
windows was also unlatched. A toolbox had been set in front of
the window, obscuring a view of the latch from the basement
stairs. He frowned thoughtfully and returned to the living room
with more instructions for the forensics team.

Norma was sitting on the couch, her pale face looking drawn and
tired. Henderson came to a decision.

"Look, Randall, you're not going to be any good on the job
tonight if you don't get some sleep. Go pack a bag and a spare
uniform. I'm going to call a friend of mine to take you
somewhere safe where you can get a good day's sleep."

"That's not necessary," Norma protested at once. "I can just
lock all the doors and windows."

"Yeah, and then spend hours staring at the ceiling," Henderson
said bluntly. "I like my people to be on their toes on the job.
Fatigue can make you less alert and then you wind up getting
shot because a robbery suspect got the jump on you. I prefer to
keep my people alive. This is an order."

Norma opened her mouth again and closed it. "You're right," she
said. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

He waited until she had vanished into her bedroom and then
stepped outside. Taking a quick look around to be certain that
no one was close enough to overhear, he produced his cell phone
and made a phone call.

When Norma Randall stepped out of her bedroom, a small overnight
bag in her hand, she found Henderson waiting patiently for her,
accompanied by a figure that every citizen of Metropolis would
have no difficulty at all in recognizing. He saw her eyes widen
as she took in the famous blue and red spandex suit and stepped
in before she could speak.

"Superman, this is Officer Randall. Norma, I'd like you to meet
Superman."

Kent extended a hand with a faint smile. "Pleased to meet you,
Officer. Inspector Henderson tells me you need a lift."

Norma attempted to speak and only a faint choking sound emerged.
Henderson didn't smile. "I want to make sure that no one can
possibly follow her. Thanks for agreeing to help, Superman."

"No problem," Kent said. "I'm always glad to assist the police
when I can." He turned back to Norma. "Are you ready, Officer?"

Henderson spoke. "I called my wife. She agreed with me that you
should borrow our spare bedroom for the day. With luck, we'll be
able to find out about that character last night and figure out
what's really going on here. Besides, I remember your husband
mentioning that he was going to be back tomorrow."

Norma was still too stunned to protest. Superman held out an arm
and, a moment later, Henderson watched them take off. He turned
to walk back into the living room where the forensics team was
finishing up its work. "Anything?" he asked.

Sam Williams, the head of the team, shook his head. "Just the
stuff on the doorknob. Like you said, it could be blood. We'll
see what a lab analysis shows. Outside of the obvious stuff
here, the guy was pretty careful. No traces of who he was; no
prints; nothing. I'm not a detective but, if you want my
opinion, I think this was intended to scare her."

"Yeah; so do I," Henderson said. "The pattern's been familiar
lately."

Williams' eyes widened slightly. "You think it could be the
Midtown Rapist?"

Henderson shrugged. "The thought had occurred to me. It's the
pattern he's followed so far with his other victims. Randall
took the report on his latest attack. If he saw her there--"

"Yeah." Williams took off his glasses and cleaned them on his
shirt. "I'll put a rush on the tests. If it *is* him, maybe this
time you guys can nail the sicko. Going after a cop probably
isn't the smartest move he could make."

"Yeah," Henderson said. Especially, he added to himself, if the
Black Knight just happened to be watching the cop in question.
If this *was* the Midtown Rapist, he'd just made a very critical
error.

**********

The watcher laid his binoculars down on the seat beside him and
scowled. He'd left the flowers and unfastened the window
deliberately as a scare tactic. With luck they would focus on
the upstairs window and the one in the basement, which he had
opened as a distraction, and not notice the fact that he'd
sabotaged the lock on the back door. He'd worked hard to leave
that one looking undisturbed unless it was very closely
examined. He'd wanted to shake the woman up, but maybe he'd gone
a little too far. She *was* a cop, after all. It stood to reason
that she would call in her friends to check out the break-in.
The guy who'd shown up hadn't been wearing a uniform but he was
obviously a cop, because the place was now swarming with men and
women wearing lab suits, with badges on their outfits, probably
dusting for prints and looking for evidence that he might have
left behind. And now Superman had arrived to give the woman a
lift to someplace else -- probably so he couldn't follow her, he
thought. Whoever the guy she'd called was, he must have a lot of
clout.

It didn't matter, though. He'd been very careful not to leave
any traces except the ones he wanted to leave. And Norma Randall
would be at the Twelfth Precinct tonight to report to work. He
would be very careful from now on not to give her any more hints
that she was being watched. Scaring her might be fun, but it
didn't matter so much as the actual score. Let her think that
he'd given up -- that it was nothing but a practical joke.
Tonight, or just possibly tomorrow night. Randall had a lot to
pay for -- the arrogance of her sex in general, for one, and the
way women had treated him all of his life. She wasn't any
different than any other woman, and she could repay what Mary
owed him, and his mother, as well. Not that Mother hadn't paid
before he'd left Albany, but it wasn't enough. It would never be
enough for the way women had ruined his life. Norma Randall was
going to have to pay, too. It was only justice.

In the meantime, though, it was time he got ready for work. He
worked the afternoon shift over at Metro High as the guy who did
the general maintenance on their electrical systems and sound
equipment. He'd better get back to the Apollo and get changed.

He glanced at his bandaged hand. The first finger was still
numb. It was probable that the nerve in there had been
completely severed. Going to the emergency room was still out of
the question, however. The police had undoubtedly spread the
word about the Midtown Rapist's injury by now, and someone would
be bound to report it. If he gave his real name, they would
track him back to Albany and discover the record of his arrests
for domestic violence and the police were bound to bring him in
for questioning. On the other hand, his new identity had no
insurance and, if the police did any real examination of his
identification, they were bound to realize that he wasn't who he
said he was. No, medical treatment was out, at least for now.

Still, his cover story should allay any possible suspicion at
work. His forged identification had withstood the school's
cursory background check, and Theodore Waxman had been a model
employee for the last two and a half months. His co-workers
liked him and he'd established a record for reliability that
should stand him in good stead if anyone asked about his hand.
He'd come back to the matter of Norma Randall tonight. That
detective, or whatever he was, couldn't follow her around every
minute. Sooner or later, the woman would let down her guard. His
revenge would be all the sweeter for having to wait.

**********

Rocketing through the air at just under the speed of sound, Bill
Henderson spotted the pink form of Ultra Woman approaching him
at an angle. Lois altered her direction slightly to intercept
him. "Hi, Bill. How's it going?"

He grinned. As Henderson and Lane, they continued their ongoing
verbal duel for form's sake but as fellow superheroes the
relationship had changed somewhat.

"Not too bad," he said. "I might have a lead on our Midtown
Rapist."

She changed her course to accompany him toward the Precinct.
"Anything I should know about?"

"Only if it stays off the record."

She made a rude sound at him. "This is superhero stuff. You know
me better than that. I've got a couple of tidbits to add to the
list, too. I'll trade you."

He pretended to consider her offer for a moment and then
grinned. "It's a deal. I'm afraid all I have are tidbits, too.
It might be a false alarm."

"It seems like tidbits are all we have on this character," Lois
said. "I talked to my snitch this morning, and he thinks the guy
may drive a blue car."

"Oh yeah? That's interesting," Henderson said. "Anything else?"

"He might have worked as a sound man in a nightclub. You know --
the guy that handles the sound equipment. Why is it
interesting?" she added.

"Because of something that happened last night. Sue and I were
leaving Mi Casa..." He went on to give the details of the
incident. "And then this morning, I got a call from Norma--"

When he had finished, Lois was silent for nearly a minute.
"That's downright creepy," she said finally. "But you say the
car was blue? Interesting coincidence. Of course, there are a
lot of blue cars in Metropolis -- and New York, for that matter.
Do you think you could pass the information on the license along
to Clark or me when you get it?"

"You'll be the first to get the call. And if Olsen manages to
identify those prints--"

"I'll have him call you. You don't mind if I give him your new
number, do you?"

Henderson shook his head. "Nope. That kid should be working for
the FBI. If we're lucky, he'll be our ace in the hole." They
were approaching the 12th Precinct as he spoke. "See you later.
Inspector Henderson has to be seen around the premises for a
while."

Lois snorted. "And I thought it was bad when Clark talked about
himself in the third person. I need to get back to the office.
I've got a deadline. Be sure to call me if anything happens with
Sue."

"I'll do that," Henderson said.

**********

Norma Randall felt her feet leave the ground and swallowed
convulsively. Somehow, the possibility of ever actually flying
with one of the superheroes had never occurred to her,
especially Superman himself. As the ground dropped away, she
looked down, fascinated as the scene expanded. Her house shrank
and the streets of the neighborhood surrounding it became
visible. The house halfway down the block had a swimming pool in
the back yard -- she had never known that, she thought. That
looked like Mrs. Hanson and her dog, already on their way back
from the post office. They were passing a dark blue sedan parked
halfway down the block from the house where she and Neil lived.

Superman glanced casually in the same direction. "Is there
something wrong, Officer?" he asked. "You're not afraid of
flying, are you?"

"Uh -- no," Norma said. "I'm just a little surprised. I didn't
realize Bill -- Inspector Henderson -- knew you well enough to
ask you to do him favors like this -- especially for someone you
don't know."

"Bill and I have been friends for a long time," Superman said,
flashing her the killer smile that never failed to make her
heart beat faster. She wasn't being disloyal to Neil, she
reminded herself firmly. A woman would have to be dead not to
react that way to Superman. "Besides, I'm always glad to help
the police department. Bill told me about the break-in. Do you
have any idea what might be behind it?"

"What do you mean?" Norma asked.

"I mean," Superman said, "do you think it was just random, or
was there some other reason? Not many breaking and entering
suspects leave their victims a bouquet of flowers."

"They don't, do they?" Norma said.

"In fact," Superman said, "I can think of it happening only once
before in recent history. Two months ago, one of the Midtown
Rapist's victims got a bouquet very much like that one, two days
before she was attacked. Unfortunately, no one connected it at
the time. I don't want to worry you, but--"

Norma swallowed. "No," she said. "I don't think you could worry
me any more than I already am."

"I suppose not," Superman said. "Officer, I don't mean to tell
you your business, but is there any reason you can think of that
someone might be targeting you? A copycat, maybe?"

She shook her head. "Not really. I responded to the call from
the guy's last attack, but I don't see how he could know it was
me."

"If he was still hanging around, he might have seen you,"
Superman said. "Is there any way he could have identified you?"

"I don't know," Norma said. "I guess it's possible."

"Yes," Superman agreed. "It's possible. Will you do me a
favor?"

She was aware of a sense of surprise. Superman was asking her
for a favor? "Sure."

"Until Henderson and Wolfe bring this character in, if you think
you might be in danger, would you do me the favor of yelling
'Help, Superman'? I can be there in seconds, and I'm as anxious
to get the Rapist behind bars as Henderson is. It's only a
matter of time before he kills someone."

Norma considered. It didn't seem quite right for a police
officer to be yelling to Superman for help. On the other hand,
the situation wasn't ordinary, and he had just *asked* her to do
so. You didn't generally turn down a request from Superman. "All
right," she said.

"Thanks," Superman said. "That makes me feel a little better.
There's Bill's house." He nodded at one of the little tract
homes beneath them and began a gentle descent. "Sue's waiting
for us at the door."

"You know Inspector Henderson's wife?"

He nodded, giving her a slight smile. "We've met. Here we are."
His feet touched the sidewalk and he set Norma gently down. The
return of the feeling of gravity was almost a surprise. "This
way."

A few minutes later, Sue Henderson had admitted her to the
small, neat house and Superman had flown away. Norma looked
after him for a moment.

"He's very nice, isn't he?" Sue said.

"Yeah." Norma brought her attention back to Henderson's wife. "I
never expected to fly with him. He's a lot different than he
seems on TV."

"I know." Sue reached for the overnight bag, but Norma
forestalled her. The last thing they needed was for Sue to go
into labor at this minute. "Come this way. We've turned our
smallest bedroom into a nursery, but we still have a spare room
for guests. Bill said somebody broke into your house?"

"Yeah." Norma said. "He left me a bouquet of flowers."

Sue made a face. "Creepy," was her diagnosis. "Well, whoever he
was, he couldn't have followed Superman, so you're safe here for
today."

"Yeah." Norma hesitated. "Thanks for letting me stay."

"Oh, that's not a problem," Sue assured her. "I think Bill's
glad to have someone here with me right now. We're in a holding
pattern, and he's more nervous than I am about it."

"Bill, nervous?" This didn't fit the pattern of the Bill
Henderson she knew.

Sue laughed. "I know. I hate to disillusion you, but Bill's the
traditional anxious father-to-be. I'm a little impatient,
myself, but don't tell him that."

Norma found herself grinning. "Your secret's safe with me," she
said.

Moments later, Norma was left alone in the small bedroom. As she
readied herself for bed, she thought back to the short flight
with Superman, and the subject of the superheroes that she had
been wondering about on her drive home came to mind. Superman
must have another life. That part she'd pretty much established
in her mind as fact. But how could he possibly walk among the
general population with that face and build and not be instantly
recognized? Superman was impressive -- even more impressive
close up than on television. He didn't wear a mask, but maybe in
his civilian identity he did something else to disguise himself.
Maybe he wore a wig, she speculated, yawning widely. Was it
possible that whoever he was in his everyday identity was a
blond or a redhead? The image made her snort softly. Not with
that complexion. Superman had an olive complexion that certainly
wouldn't go well with anything but black or dark-brown hair, so
that was out. His eyes were brown with gold flecks in their
depths, and had a faintly Asian shape to them, so he might do
something to disguise them. Maybe he wore glasses, she
speculated. Or maybe he worked in some field where he wore the
kind of clothing that concealed his impressive physique. Maybe
he was a lab technician or a doctor, or even some kind of
construction worker. He wouldn't stand out at all among all the
rest of the muscular guys that he would work with. Somehow the
image of Superman sitting at a construction site, eating his
lunch and whistling at attractive women who happened to pass by
just didn't compute. He certainly didn't seem to be that kind of
guy.

Oh well, the chances were that she had never met his civilian
identity, anyhow. She certainly didn't have that indefinable
sense of familiarity in his presence that she had with the
Knight. Besides, whoever he was in ordinary life wasn't any of
her business.

Norma lowered the blinds and pulled the heavy curtains, blocking
out the bright morning sunlight. The room was as dark as her
bedroom at home when she caught her morning's sleep, and the bed
looked very comfortable. Norma climbed under the covers and
turned over, and in spite of the disturbing things that had
happened this morning, she was tired enough that she was soon
sound asleep.

**********

Henderson was entering the side door or the Precinct when his
cell phone rang. He unhooked the little object from his belt and
flipped it open. "Henderson."

"It's Cindy," the familiar voice at the other end said. "You
said you wanted the information on that license as soon as we
had it."

"Right," Henderson