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LAST TIME ON EMII:

Lois listened to Luthor's side of the conversation, her throat tightening, her palms sweating and her skin crawling with fear. From time to time she could hear the squawking sounds of CJ's shocked protests and aborted replies.

"Kent. I don't need to tell you who this is. I'm at Lois's. ... No. Don't say anything. Just listen. Don't even think of calling the police. I'll know if you do. If I hear one whisper that the police are coming, your girl will be carrion. ... What do I want? Why, Mr Kent, I thought you were smarter than this. Isn't it obvious? What I want is you. Here. Now." And with that he slammed the phone down.

Luthor was sporting that feral grin again, his eyes glinting maliciously as he looked at Lois.

Before she had thought him evil, but rational. Now, for the first time, she found herself questioning his sanity.

"Now," he said, "we wait."

NOW READ ON...


CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE


Just moments before the evening sun had felt warm on CJ's back, but now he felt chilled. He had been half a block away from Frank's stall when his mobile phone rang. He'd groped around in his jacket pocket, pulled it out, and said, "Kent," laconically into the microphone.

The following conversation was now little more than a blur in his mind. He barely remembered the precise words that Luthor had used, and, beyond the fact that they had been panicked and incoherent, he remembered nothing at all about his own. But he didn't need to remember the words to know the gist of what had been said.

Lois... In danger... Luthor... He'd sworn he'd have his revenge.

After Luthor had slammed the handset at the other end of the line down, CJ had stood numbly for a few seconds – or maybe it had been a few minutes. Time had been suspended, focus only returning gradually to his thoughts.

Without conscious thought, he switched his mobile phone off, fumbling because his fingers felt too fat and clumsy to press the small buttons. It was nerves, he thought, and nerves weren't going to help Lois.

CJ managed to tamp down the worst of his panic and he began to think in entire sentences rather than in disjointed phrases and random words. Isolated thoughts coalesced into something more coherent: if Luthor had Lois, then she was in danger. Luthor had vowed to have his revenge on the pair of them.

CJ realised that, although all his instincts were screaming for him to rush to Lois's side, to try to save her from whatever it was that Luthor had planned, that was precisely what Luthor wanted. Luthor had set a trap and he had baited it well.

It was hard, but CJ forced himself to concentrate. He had to think through the various possible scenarios carefully: Lois's life depended on what he did next.

Luthor had told him not to contact the police, CJ at least remembered that much about the conversation, and he saw little reason to doubt that Luthor would know if he did so. Although CJ knew that Luthor was by no means omniscient, he also knew that Luthor had always had spies everywhere and an ability to do the seemingly impossible.

CJ wasn't going to let Lois die that early on in the game. He mentally rephrased that: he wasn't going to let Lois die at all.

Luthor undoubtedly wanted Lois dead, but he wanted CJ, too, and the longer CJ could delay their showdown, the longer he could keep them both alive.

If he couldn't call the police, CJ thought, who could he call? Certainly, he wasn't fool enough to walk into Luthor's trap without some sort of back-up plan.

He wracked his brain, and he was shocked at how few people, even after so many had turned on Luthor, he felt he could rely upon. There were people at the Planet: Perry, Jack and, possibly, Jimmy, although CJ still didn't feel as though he knew Jimmy well enough to be entirely confident in his trustworthiness. With an inappropriate flash of wry humour, it occurred to him that Lois might be angry with him, he thought, if he dragged her colleagues into the matter before she could nail down the exclusive for herself. Nonetheless, they were the best bet, he thought. Over the last week or so, he'd learned that they frequently worked late, especially Perry. Moreover, they had connections all over the city and, dealing as they did every day with the dramatic, one or other of them would know what to do to help.

CJ pulled out his mobile phone and switched it on again. Then he juggled it in his hand, hesitating. Maybe he was being paranoid, but what if Luthor was monitoring his calls? He didn't know enough about the technology to know if that was possible, but it might be. He didn't want to take the risk, but what alternative was there?

He frowned, looked around, seeking inspiration. And then he saw a pay-phone on the opposite pavement.

He darted into the road, not looking out for cars. He didn't realise the danger he was in, until a squeal of brakes and a long honk on a horn made him aware that he'd almost been run over by an ancient Toyota. The driver leaned out of the window and yelled obscenities at him and, without turning around, CJ hastily apologised as he ran the rest of the way.

CJ made it to the phone, picked up the handset and held it to his chest while he tried to gain control over his ragged breathing and calm himself. It would do no good if he got himself killed before he got to Lois's apartment.

He rummaged around in his trouser pocket, hoping to find some loose change, and struck lucky. He rammed the quarter into the pay-phone's coin slot, and realised that the Planet's number had leached out of his head. He screwed up his eyes in near despair as he determinedly tried to remember.

The digits came to him, and with them, an intense sense of relief. He didn't have time to dwell on his triumph, though. He pressed in the number and cursed roundly and with despair when he got the busy signal.

Who knew how long it would be before the line was free again, and meanwhile the minutes were ticking past, putting Lois in greater danger!

There had to be someone else he could call! But who?

And then it hit him. He could call Mayson. Mayson knew how the system worked. She had contacts in the police, and even if he couldn't call them himself, she could, on his behalf. Luthor wasn't likely to be tracing her calls.

At least, CJ hoped not.

He stabbed the keypad and muttered, "Please be there. Please, please still be there." The phone rang. And rang. And CJ moaned in despair. "I know I've been telling you to leave the office before ten for a change, but please don't finally have decided to listen to me today! Please, Mayson, pick up the phone!"

He was about to give up when the ringing stopped and he heard her voice. "Mayson Drake."

"Mayson! Thank God!"

"CJ?" she asked. "What's the matter? You sound—"

"I'm in trouble, Mayson. You've got help me. It's Luthor. He's—"

"Luthor? What can he have done? He's in prison!"

"No! He's not! He's escaped—"

"Escaped?!"

"—and he's holding Lois hostage in her apartment. He's waiting for me there, and he told me that I mustn't call the police, but you could and—"

"Give me the address," she demanded.

Thank God for Mayson, he thought, impressed at how level-headed she was being. He wished he was able to think as clearly as she seemed to be doing. He rattled off the address and said, "Tell them to be careful. Real discreet. Luthor said he'd kill her if—"

"I'll tell them," she interrupted. "Where are you? What are you going to do?"

"I'm on Filmore Avenue," he said. "I was on my way over there when..." He suddenly noticed that he wasn't holding the flowers anymore. What had he done with them? Had he dropped them? He must have done. He shook his head to clear it; the loss of a few roses hardly mattered now.

"CJ?" asked Mayson, and he realised that he must have blanked out for a moment, because from the way she was saying his name it sounded as though it wasn't the first time she'd tried to get his attention.

"Yes. I'm still here."

"Stay where you are. I'll tell the police to come find you."

"No! I'm going—"

But it was too late. Mayson had put the phone down.

He hung up the handset and began to walk away from the phone. Within three steps, his walk had become a jog. Within six it had become a run. Within ten it was an all out sprint. All he could think was that he had to find out what was happening at Lois's. He had to get to her. He couldn't think beyond the imperative that he had to save her.

If only he could fly! he thought, remembering the ease with which he had been able to fling himself up into the air, the speed with which he could rush to disasters...

Then someone below him was screaming. "Look, Stu! It's that flying man! The one the paper's were on about last week!"

CJ looked towards the voice, wondering what they were talking about. He'd been that flying man, and his powers had failed days—

He nearly fell.

It wasn't possible, but CJ was a good thirty feet up in the air! He was flying!

Don't think about it! he told himself sternly. Don't think about it, and maybe you'll stay aloft!

It wasn't a logical thought, but it seemed to work, because he felt himself recover his equilibrium and he picked up speed again.

Then, before he knew it, he was hovering outside Lois's open living-room window.

*****

Lois hoped that CJ wouldn't do anything quite as stupid as she would undoubtedly be wont to do in his position. Then she wondered what he could do. It wasn't as if he would be able to pull her to safety this time.

For the second time in just a few weeks, she was at the wrong end of a gun barrel, and this time there was no promise of rescue. CJ's powers had failed; last time's rescue had been a one off.

Hadn't it?

Would Wells show up again, whisk CJ off to recharge his batteries or whatever it was that he did, then bring him back to pluck her from the jaws of death? It seemed too much to hope for, and yet...

If Wells had saved them once, surely he could do it again... and again. And again.

She wondered what the time was. How long had it been since Luthor had made that call? But she couldn't drag her eyes away from the gun barrel. It was as if it was the only thing in focus in the whole room. It was real and solid. Everything around it merged into a murky blur.

Then Luthor's voice crashed into her head, and she realised that he was real, too. "Where is he?! What's taking him so long!?"

"It takes time to get across town, and CJ doesn’t have a car." Her voice sounded too loud in her ears, but otherwise normal. A detached part of her brain marvelled at that, and wondered how come her fear wasn't showing, at least not outwardly. "What are you going to do when he gets here?"

"Do?" asked Luthor. "Isn't that obvious?"

She didn't think it would be a good idea to say no, so Lois didn't answer, preferring instead to wait for him to continue on his own.

There was a leaden silence, which Luthor finally broke, unable to keep his plans to himself. "I'm going to kill you both. I'll kill you first – let him see you die. Or maybe I'll do him first. It makes little difference, just so long as you see each other suffer. Then I'll shoot whoever is left. Make it look like suicide."

"It'll never work," said Lois. "Forensics'll never believe it."

"Of course it will work."

Lois shook, her eyes still not leaving the gun. She didn't know what she found hardest to credit, the fact that he clearly hadn't thought his plan through before coming here, or his absolute certainty that it would work. "There'll be no blow-back on our hands, and you won't get close enough to us for the bullet to leave any tattoo marks on our skin. They'd expect to find both on a suicide."

"You think I can't do this? I'm Lex Luthor! I can do anything!"

Lois snorted derisively. "You think I don't know what I'm talking about? Do you know how many murders I've covered for the Planet?"

"You're in no position to scoff, Ms Lane. Or have you forgotten that I'm the one with the gun here? Besides, given what I've been charged with, what's one murder more or less?"

She wouldn't have believed it possible, but the menace in his voice was even thicker than before. It had a sharp edge of madness to it, although what he was saying made a terrible kind of sense, and the gun, which he'd previously held steady, was now shaking in his grip. "Maybe..." Luthor said. "Maybe I've changed my mind. Maybe I'll kill you now. I mean, why wait? Why postpone my pleasure? And you're beginning to annoy me."

Lois tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry and her throat wasn't working.

"You don't like that, do you?" he asked with savage glee.

Lois said nothing.

"Answer me!"

Lois couldn’t speak. It was all she could do to jerk her head from side to side. No, she didn't like it. Not one little bit.

"Where is he?" Luthor demanded again.

Although she also wanted to know the answer to that question, Lois didn't attempt to respond. There was no point. Luthor, she was sure, had tipped over the edge into insanity. Or maybe he'd been insane all along; he'd just been better at hiding it in the past.

"He's not coming, is he?" Luthor spat. "He's abandoned you to save his own skin, hasn’t he?"

"No. He wouldn't do that." Lois's lips moved, forming the words, but no sound came out. She didn't believe Luthor for a minute. In fact, if she hadn't known better, she would have sworn that CJ was in that room with them. It was as if she could sense his presence, but that was wishful thinking, she thought, nothing more than that. In fact, she wasn't even sure it was that much. She didn't want CJ here. If CJ had decided not to come, then at least he would be safe... until Luthor chose to go after him, too. But Lois knew CJ. She knew him better than he knew himself. Hadn't he told her that? And she knew that he was coming for her.

"I'm going to do it," Luthor said, his voice now soft and velvety, an obscene caress of sound. His arm straightened as he took aim and Lois knew with certainty that this was it. She was going to die at the hands of a madman, here, in her living-room. She thought of Pagliano and wondered whether he'd felt anything as he died. She thought of CJ, of the future they were supposed to have together and, for the first time since they'd begun their joint quest, she wondered whether it had all been worth it.

Then she decided that, yes, it was. It wasn't because Luthor was finally being exposed for the evil monster he was, though that was worth a great deal, too. It was worth it because she'd lived more in the last three weeks than she'd done in the rest of her life combined.

She screwed her eyes closed and concentrated on her memories and on pictures of a future that wasn't going to be hers. If Luthor was going to kill her, then she refused to die in fear or with his face as the last thing she'd ever see. She remembered how CJ had looked on that first evening in her apartment and let her memories paint his face on the inside of her eyelids. She remembered their first kiss and their first night together. She remembered the feel of him, the smell of him... How it felt to love him. She thought of a wedding... a house... children. She thought about how it would have felt to have grown old with CJ, and she didn't know whether she should smile or cry at the fantasies she was painting.

I love you, CJ, she thought.

*****

CJ had thought Luthor would wait for him. It had never crossed his mind that Luthor would not. He saw Luthor straighten his arm and aim, but it was disorienting because he seemed to be seeing it from two angles, one looking through the window and the other looking straight into the barrel of the gun.

And then one of the images faded, as though he'd closed a second set of eyes.

Telepathy, he realised. It was her eyes that had closed, not his. He was inside Lois's head again. He could feel her fear, resignation, regrets and... love? Her love for him, he realised. She'd told him she loved him, but he hadn't understood how deep that love ran. He drew courage from the emotion, knowing that nothing would allow him to give up on something so good and pure. He couldn't – wouldn't – fail her.

He didn't wait to see Luthor press the trigger. Instead CJ threw himself through the open window and arrowed towards him, straight into the path of the speeding bullet.

*****

CJ screamed as metal tore through the flesh of his left shoulder. He was punched backwards by the force of the bullet, and, in agony, he somersaulted once in the air to recover his balance.

Luthor froze for a moment as his brain refused to process what he was seeing. It was a moment that CJ used to his advantage. Still in mid-air, he launched himself feet first at Luthor, aiming for Luthor's chest. The collision pushed Luthor backwards into a wall and made him drop the gun. It clattered to the floor and slid under a bookcase.

CJ landed half on and half off Luthor. The pain was blurring his vision, sending tendrils of fire along his nerve endings, down to his fingers and up to his brain. He was barely aware of Luthor struggling to free himself until he heard Lois's horrified cries. Her voice snapped him out of his stupor. "CJ!" she cried. "You're bleeding!"

"I know!" he ground out. Then, less peevishly, he cried, "Get the gun!"

She threw herself onto the floor, stretching her arm under the bookcase, frantically scrabbling to pick the gun up.

Luthor was almost free. With a last effort, he twisted beneath CJ, pushing CJ off him. The sudden movement jarred CJ's shoulder and made him scream again. He pressed his right hand against the entry wound and he could feel the sickening warmth of blood against his palm and fingers.

CJ struggled to his knees and forced himself to concentrate on what was going on around him.

Luthor was on his feet, staring down at him, his eyes glittering with hatred and something else. Calculation perhaps? CJ barely had time to register what Luthor had in mind before he felt the impact of a well-aimed kick that spoke of many hours spent in the dojo. The sharp outer edge of Luthor's shoe smashed into CJ's right hand, and the force of the blow vibrated through CJ's metacarpals and into the bullet wound below.

CJ reeled backwards. His head collided with the edge of a wood and glass cabinet, stunning him for a second. He forced himself to stay conscious, then, rallying reserves of strength he didn't know he had, he pulled himself up onto his feet. He swayed slightly as he squared off with Luthor.

It wasn't an even fight. Luthor was an experienced martial artist. CJ was not a fighter, at least not in the physical sense of the word; the best he could hope to do was dodge Luthor's blows. At least Lois's love seats offered some sort of cover and impeded Luthor's progress. CJ had never thought that he would find himself thankful for their presence. If he got out of this in one piece, he thought, he'd never say an unkind word about them again.

Had Lois got the gun? he wondered. He couldn't risk taking his eyes off Luthor, who was punching his arms like pistons and kicking with enough force to do serious damage if any of the blows contacted. All he knew for sure was that she wasn't on the floor anymore. At least, if the gun was still down there, Luthor wasn't going after it. In fact, he seemed to have forgotten about it entirely.

"CJ! Watch out!"

Lois's words registered too late. He'd been so busy avoiding Luthor's blows that he hadn't seen what Luthor was doing. He felt his back nudge something solid, and he realised that Luthor had pinned him against the wall, next to one of the tall windows.

As if in slow motion, he saw Luthor leap in the air, right leg outstretched as he jump kicked at CJ.

It was instinct, not rational thought, that made CJ move to the side and, momentarily forgetting his injury, reach out with both hands. He grasped Luthor's ankle and jerked, hoping to pull Luthor off balance.

It worked.

Too well.

As though Luthor was a hammer being tossed, he rotated through the air, smashing through glass and out into empty air beyond.

CJ couldn't let go in time and he was pulled over the sill behind him.

TBC