<<Back to Prologue<< Chapter 1
Metropolis 1989
Lex Luthor looked skeptically at the man seated languidly in front of him, “Pardon me, remind me again what you said you can get for me.”
The man rolled his eyes and quickly told Lex once again the list of items he had access to.
Lex stood and walked from his desk to a bookshelf, idly playing with some expensive trinket. “And why would I go through you on this? I can get those items elsewhere.”
“But not at prices like this. I know exactly where and when they will be moving. All you’ll be doing is liberating what someone else has already liberated.”
Lex turned back towards his guest, “And what do you get out of this?”
“If you keep to your part that I explained earlier, that is the only payment I want.”
Lex raised one eyebrow delicately, “I find that hard to believe.”
The man smirked, “I really don’t like the guy.”
“So kill him,” Lex said, trying to gage the man in front of him.
“No, no, no. That lacks…finesse. I’ll lead your people directly to the goods, you plant the misinformation and I’ll take care of the rest. And then you’ll never see me again.”
Lex sat back down in his chair and steepled his fingers, elbows on the desk. “I think we have a deal then.”
The man nodded perfunctorily and strolled out of the room, throwing back over his shoulder, “I’ll be back in two days.”Smallville 1994
“Clark! That was just cruel,” Martha exclaimed as she passed her son the potatoes.
Clark blushed, “Mom, it wasn’t supposed to be. I just needed to throw Jack a bone so that I could visit you guys without worrying. You know they always have a stake out around my birthday. I needed to make sure he had no reason to think I would be here. Three-quarters of his tips are duds so I had to do something to catch his attention.”
Jonathan chuckled, “Well, you certainly did that.”
Marth glanced sourly at her husband, “Just think about that poor man though! Having to chase down a lead like that, what if he had Valentine’s Day plans with his wife?”
Clark absently poured more gravy over his potatoes. He had picked up the newspaper and was looking at the weather report. “He and his wife divorced years ago. I get the impression that neither his wife nor his son know he is an NIA Special Agent.”
Martha and Jonathan both stared at him.
Clark glanced up, in response to the silence, “What?”
“Just how do you know that?”
He shrugged and ducked his head, “I, um, happened to be on the subway with his son a few months ago. We talked a bit.”
Martha gave her son an exasperated look and scolded him, “You know, Clark, sometimes I think you’ve become too accustomed to being a fugitive.”
“Hey," protested Clark, "I think I ended up doing some good. Soon after that, Jimmy contacted his dad, and then they spent Christmas together.”
“So,” Jonathan broke in, not wanting this debate to escalate further, “how’s the writing going.”
Clark relaxed a bit and folded the newspaper and set it on the table. The headline of the newspaper proclaimed the latest discovery by scientists on Space Station Luthor. A smaller sidebar was titled “Lex Luthor to Wed Daily Planet Reporter.”
“Well, I’ve submitted the manuscript for the next book. My publisher was really pleased with the sales figures from
American in Johannesburg. It’s still selling strong, even after two years.”
Jonathan nodded and tapped the newspaper currently under his son’s elbow, “I remember, the Daily Planet gave quite a good review of it. And then their international reporter did a series on South Africa.”
Clark smiled, “I’m glad. I still cannot believe I landed an interview with Mandela right after he was released. That’s really what kicked that book off. My agent says he expects more sales with Mandela’s candidacy for the election in two months. The dismantling of the apartheid regime was big news, I’m glad I was there.”
“So what is this next one going to be?” Martha asked as she started clearing the dinner table.
“
American in Beijing. I wasn’t in China during the protests five years ago.” Clark grimaced at the memory of what
had been going on five years ago, “but I have visited a number of times in the aftermath. With Hong Kong scheduled to be returned to Chinese control in three years, global attention will soon be focused in that direction.”
“Is your agent going to try to get you to do a tour again?” Martha asked.
“He’s been hinting. If I made public appearances though, it wouldn’t take long for people to realize that Charlie King is a pseudonym for Clark Kent. Although if I did a tour, it might give Jack something else to do.”
“Clark!” Martha said reproachfully.
“Sorry,” Clark chuckled.
“Are you going to stay the night?” Jonathan asked.
Clark sighed, “Probably not. You know what happened last time I tried to stay the night.”
It had been a close call. Rachel had happened to stop by to visit his parents and had almost seen Clark there. There wasn’t much of a chance of her catching him, but had she seen him she would have been obligated to arrest his parents for sheltering a fugitive.
Martha frowned, “But I hate the idea of you going back to that hole you call home. It must get so lonely.”
Clark smiled at his mother’s worry. “Mom, Havana isn’t that bad. There are a number of wonderful people there.”
“But you can’t freely associate,” Martha pointed out.
“I could,” Clark rebutted, “remember, Cuba doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the United States. Besides, my apartment isn’t that bad.”
“Still,” Martha protested, “let me pack you up some of these leftovers, so you can take them with you.”
Minutes later Clark was bidding his parents farewell on the porch.
“Fly safely, son,” Jonathan said, giving him a hug.
Martha gave him a peck on the cheek and handed him an armful of Tupperware, “Give us a call next week.”
Clark nodded and placed the containers of food in a rucksack, slung it over his shoulder and after looking around, shot into the growing darkness of night.
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