Lois couldn’t help but feel as though every person they passed was looking at her. Although Clark assured her that her appearance was in good order, she was convinced that her hair was disheveled and that her lips were obviously swollen from kissing.
It didn’t help that every time Clark looked at her she felt herself blushing.
Anyone observant about body language would know that they were now together, and Lois felt emotionally open and raw.
“I feel exposed,” she admitted to Clark, glancing at the windows across the dining room.
They’d been seated near the kitchen, normally one of the least desirable locations in the restaurant, but Clark was hoping he’d be able to help more quickly if he was there.
Lois’s gut, though told her that the fire wouldn’t start in the kitchen. Fires in kitchens were expected, and people prepared for them. With the number of people on staff in a kitchen, someone would notice a fire in plenty of time to take action.
Of course, what she knew about kitchens could be printed on the back of a matchbook.
Still, even away from the windows, the feeling that she was being watched was intense. Looking around the crowded dining area, Lois thought she could see people staring at her.
“No one is looking,” Clark said. “Except for that small boy.”
Arthur was peeking over the back of his chair at her. Apparently she’d made an impression on him the day before when she’d given him the ball.
His father wasn’t at the table, which was unusual in this time period. His mother seemed distracted as well, looking around for her husband.
“He’s the desk clerk’s son,” she said quietly. “We met yesterday.”
Clark frowned. “Most people don’t allow their children to behave that way.”
Lois winced as a sudden memory of the last time she’d been in a fast food restaurant flashed through her mind. Compared to those children, Arthur was an angel.
“Children in my time aren’t as…disciplined as they are now.”
Clark looked distracted. “From what I’ve seen of the desk clerk he seems like a stern taskmaster. He doesn’t seem like the sort to abandon his…”
Lois caught sight of the desk clerk, who was striding through the dining room with a bellhop trailing behind him. The man looked grim.
The sinking feeling in her stomach worsened. Was he going to throw them out of the hotel in front of all the other guests in the dining hall?
Reputation might mean more in this time than in her own, but that didn’t mean that Lois would stand for being shamed in public. She would be leaving this place soon, one way or the other, and she didn’t have to take any more abuse from the man.
“Mr. Kent,” the desk clerk said.
Clark looked up, outwardly calm and confident.
“May we speak outside? It is a matter of some….delicacy.”
Clark glanced at her. “If this is about my association with Ms. Lane…”
The desk clerk didn’t even look at Lois. Instead his hands tensed and he shifted uneasily from foot to foot.
He was anxious.
“Please…may we speak outside?”
Clark glanced at Lois, then nodded. If it was some ploy to humiliate them, it was better to do it outside, away from the crowd. If it wasn’t, then it was something that needed to be looked in to.
He rose to his feet and followed the two men.
Lois stared after him, hoping that they weren’t about to be evicted. They had to remain on the grounds for a little longer, at least until the fire started. If they didn’t, they’d miss their window.
She was beginning to wonder whether she’d changed too many things.
It was still unclear whether everything was set in stone, in which case no matter what she did time would remain the same, or whether time was mutable.
If time wasn’t changeable, what did that say about the nature of free will?
Every time she thought about the nature of time and time travel it made her head hurt.
“I thought he’d never leave.”
Lois looked up to see a man in a waiter’s outfit, a cloth thrown over his arm. From beneath the cloth she saw a glint of metal. She looked up to see the thug staring down at her.
“You wouldn’t kill me here,” she said. “In the middle of all these people.”
“What do you think happens in a train robbery? If I shoot you, most people will just see the waiter’s uniform.”
Lois frowned. One of the first rules of being kidnapped was to never let them get you alone. While most of her kidnappings had been professional affairs, this man had a personal grudge against her and had been ordered to kill her.
“If you want to get home you can’t kill me,” Lois pointed out. Although she was outwardly calm, her mind was racing.
If Clark returned and found him here, there was a good chance that he would be shot and killed.
If she went anywhere with him, it would soon become clear that she didn’t have a way to get them home, and she would be killed.
Lois wished she still had her purse. The pepper spray inside would have been a lifesaver.
“I can kill the little kid that’s watching you,” he said, glancing back at Arthur’s table. “And the kid’s mother. And I can keep killing people until I find somebody you care about.”
“What do you think would happen if one of these people is your great grandfather?” Lois asked, glancing back in the direction from which Clark had come.
“Way I figure it; I’ve got lots of other great grandparents. If I kill great granddad, great grandma will just marry someone else. I might even get a better head of hair out of it.”
Lois blinked.
“I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I’ve had a long time to think about all of this.”
“Fine,” Lois said. “I’ll go with you.”
She hadn’t gotten to eat more than a dinner roll, but she knew from experience that getting into a fight on a full stomach was a mistake.
Still, it might have been nice to have gotten a salad.
Lois carefully wiped her mouth with her napkin and slowly stood up. In contrast to her earlier paranoia, no one seemed to notice them at all, except Arthur, who was too young to be taken seriously.
Some of her best assets were not available to her. Most men underestimated her because of her size and her gender. They always assumed that her reputation was overblown. That made it easier to surprise them.
She’d hurt this man already, and despite the decades it had been, she could see a certain wariness in his eyes that showed that he remembered.
In her favor, he was older now and presumably slower and weaker. His eyesight might not be as keen and his aim might not be as good.
“Through the door to the kitchen,” he said.
She nodded. Hopefully the chaos and confusion of the kitchen would give her an opportunity to get away from him. In her experience a face full of boiling grease tended to make even the most experienced professionals drop their weapons.
Despite what he’d threatened, Lois suspected that he was a professional. He’d happily use anyone as a hostage, but if Lois wasn’t there to see it he wouldn’t bother. All she had to do was get away before he could grab anyone.
The kitchen was as busy as she’d expected, although it was darker and dingier than any modern kitchen. The stoves were of cast iron and probably dated from the last century.
Cooks and servers were moving around in frenzy, as were busboys. Everyone was so absorbed by their own tasks that they didn’t even notice Lois and the stranger behind her.
Prodded from behind with a piece of metal, Lois reluctantly moved forward. The man behind her was keeping a wary eye on everyone in the room, lest he be discovered. Lois risked grabbing a dish towel as she passed by a sink. Apparently mechanical dishwashers hadn’t been invented yet.
She slowly wrapped the towel around her hand as they walked, careful not to move so much that he’d realize what she was doing.
A chef in front of her turned from his task to grab spices from a cabinet.
Gambling that he wouldn’t shoot his only way home, Lois lunged forward and grabbed an iron frying pan with the hand she’d wrapped in the towel. Despite the towel the handle was hot, but Lois grabbed it anyway. She whirled, swinging the pan as hard as he could.
The hot grease hit him in the face first. He screamed and his hand went up. Lois heard the sound of a gunshot, followed by screams from around her.
A moment later her hand was jarred as she felt the heavy iron connect with the thug’s face with a crack. She dropped the pan and stepped back quickly.
Somehow, Clark was there. She hadn’t seen him arrive, although she’d been more than distracted.
A moment later the desk clerk was through the doors, staring down at the man lying on his back screaming.
Clark kicked the gun away from the man.
“Was this the man who threatened you with a gun?” he asked.
The desk clerk nodded.
Apparently the thug had threatened him with a gun; the man had given in but rushed to warn Clark as quickly as he could.
“Call for a doctor;” he said. “The police are on their way.”
He grabbed a towel and in a move so quick Lois almost didn’t see it grabbed the man’s hands and tied them together.
“You don’t want to touch that,” he said.
The man shuddered violently and a moment later he fell unconscious. Lois stared down at him suddenly anxious. Although he was a vicious killer, she didn’t want his death on her conscience. The rasping sound of his breathing relieved her.
“Are you all right?” Clark asked, looking up at Lois.
“I’m fine,” Lois said, massaging her hand. “I just hope the bullet didn’t hit anyone.”
Clark looked around, almost as though he expected to spot the bullet from where he was standing. He stood up and pointed.
Lois squinted.
With the help of another cook, Clark dragged the thug to his feet, “We’ll take him outside, behind the kitchen. That way he won’t disturb any of the other guests…that is, if you are sure you are all right.”
There was a look of such respect and admiration in his eyes that Lois couldn’t help but nod.
The cooks reluctantly returned to their routine.
Some of the meals were probably going to be overdone tonight, but Clark was doing what he could to make sure that no more people were inconvenienced than had to be.
Still…
Lois carefully threaded her way around cooks and busboys.
As she approached, she finally saw the hole in the door. How had he seen it from all the way across the room?
“Where does this lead to?” she asked, grabbing at a passing busboy with her uninjured hand. Her other hand wasn’t injured, just tender and a little overcooked.
“Just the water heater, miss. Cook keeps it locked; doesn’t want the likes of us to bother with it.”
Lois relaxed.
There was a chance that what she’d done had scarred the thug for life, possibly even blinded him. Despite the fact that he’d been willing to kill her, that was bad enough. She couldn’t bear the thought that someone innocent might have gotten shot and killed because she’d had an only half thought out plan.
In the back of her mind there was something she felt she wasn’t remembering. There was something about water heaters. It was there for a moment, and then it was gone. Lois couldn’t imagine what it could have been.
Whatever it was couldn’t have been that important.
She headed outside to wait for the police with Clark.
