Halloween: 6/8
by Nan Smith
She might have expected it, she thought. None of her informants or contacts ever lived in upscale neighborhoods. Why couldn't a few of them live uptown, or at least in a classy apartment house? Mortie Engelman lived in a three-room apartment on the second floor of an ancient building only a few blocks from the northern border of Centennial Park. The area wasn't exactly a slum, but it was definitely what Lois would have termed "rundown." She found herself turning her head constantly, trying to look in all directions at once and breathed a faint sigh of relief when they stepped into the relatively well-lit lobby.
"The stairs are this way," Clark said.
Lois winced at the thought of climbing stairs. Her ankle was throbbing.
"The elevator takes forever," Clark elaborated. He pushed open the door to the stairs. "Want me to carry you?"
"I'll make it," Lois said grimly.
"Here," Clark said. "Put your arm over my shoulder. I don't bite, I promise."
She hesitated a second and obeyed, reminding herself that, other-world version or not, this was Clark, her best friend. He slipped an arm around her waist and together they started up the stairs.
Clark's assistance seemed to improve the situation considerably, she thought. Her ankle didn't even hurt as much as before. They reached the second floor with relative ease, and Clark knocked on the heavy door directly to the right of the stairs.
From inside, Mortie's familiar voice said, "Just a minute!" Lois could hear the footsteps as he crossed the carpet and then there was silence as Mortie probably checked through the peephole.
After several seconds, the door opened. "Hi, Clark," Mortie said. "I didn't expect to see...." His voice trailed off. "Lois?" he said. "Holy...." He stepped back, opening the door wider. "Come on in."
Clark let Lois precede him through the door and followed, pulling it to after him. "Better sit down and put that foot up," he said.
Mortie's gaze flicked downward, and his eyebrows flew up. He gestured at the nearest chair. "Sit down," he said. "What happened?"
"Two of Luthor's goons attacked me," Clark said. "Lois plunged in headfirst and took one of them out, but the guy nicked her with his knife."
Lois discovered that she was staring at Mortie. Of all the persons that she had seen in this world whose counterparts she had known in her own, Mortie was the most unlike his other self. A Vietnam veteran, Mortie was somewhere in his mid-forties, but the man in her world could have been a good ten years older. His hair had been heavily streaked with silver and his face deeply lined.
This Mortie looked his age. His hair was mostly dark, except for the streaks of silver over his ears, and the lines on his face were barely noticeable. He was wearing a white undershirt and the skull tattoo on his left biceps rippled as he reached past Clark to lock the door.
Clark led her to the nearest chair and pushed the ottoman forward to where she could rest her foot on it. Lois settled back in the seat with a sigh of relief.
"Can I get you anything to drink?" Mortie asked. "Coffee?"
Lois shook her head. Clark sank onto a straight-backed wooden chair. "Mortie, we need a little help."
"I figured that," Mortie said. "Especially after that call this morning. What's going on? Why all the drama?"
"Lex," Lois said. "He's a crime boss. He's after Clark because of the gunrunning story he wrote a few days ago."
One of Mortie's eyebrows crawled up. "I've suspected as much for a while," he said. "I take it he doesn't know you're here."
Lois shook her head. Mortie glanced at Clark. "What do you need?"
"Lois needs a place to stay temporarily," Clark said. "If you can find her a room --"
"Say no more." Mortie nodded. "Some place where Luthor won't think of looking, and without any connection to either of you. Do you," he added, turning back to Lois, "by any chance have any evidence we can use?"
"Not on me," Lois said. "I can tell you where to look, though."
"Better than nothing," Mortie said. "I take it you aren't ready to go to the cops with this."
"Not yet," Clark said. He added, "We're still looking for a specific witness. Besides, you know the situation with the cops in Metropolis -- better than most, I imagine."
What did he mean by that, Lois wondered. Then she saw the sharp look that Mortie shot at Clark.
"I knew you were good, Kent," Mortie remarked, "but you're more observant than I thought. Does anyone else know?"
"No," Clark said.
"Observant?" Lois asked.
Mortie shrugged. "Tell her."
"Mortie works for Henderson," Clark said. "He's part of a task force here in Metropolis, working to bring down the Boss."
"I'd like to know how you know that," Mortie said. "I was sure I hadn't slipped up anywhere."
"Let's say I have some resources most people don't have," Clark said. "Superman helped me out, for one. He and I want to see Luthor brought down as much as Henderson does."
"I imagine you do," Mortie said. He gave a one-sided grin. "Okay, I guess I didn't slip as bad as I thought."
"You're an undercover cop?" Lois asked.
"Not exactly," Mortie said. "I'm a newsman, but right now I'm also helping out Henderson. We know Luthor has it in for Kent. He's got a guy in the Star's newsroom keeping an eye on him -- so I'm there, too."
"That would be Kelley," Clark interjected.
Mortie shot Clark a respectful look. "Right. Anyway, Henderson has a hunch that it could lead to bigger and better things."
"Maybe," Clark said. "I think this might be more to your taste, though. If we move fast enough, Luthor may not realize what's happening until it's too late."
**********
"You're going to be all right?" Mortie asked.
Lois nodded. The motel room wasn't exactly the height of luxury, but it was clean, there were towels in the bathroom, and the bed looked comfortable. "It'll do for tonight. It's better than sharing a bed with Le -- Luthor."
"Yeah." Mortie shook his head. "You've got guts, Lois. I have to give you that."
Lois grimaced. "Guts doesn't come into it," she said. "It's something I have to do. I can't let him go on hurting innocent people. That's not why I became an investigative journalist."
Mortie didn't answer. He checked the room carefully. "It looks all right," he said. "You have my number. If anything happens that scares you, call me -- or Kent. That might be a better choice, actually. He has a line to Superman. I'll let Henderson know that you're wanting to talk to him."
Lois nodded. The fact that Superman had gotten involved in this situation was reassuring. She was sure that Clark had told him the story she'd given him, but she was just as sure that Superman would protect her, if he could. "Does he know where I am?"
"Not yet, but he will shortly." Mortie turned toward the door. "Kent told me to remind you that we'll let you know if anything important happens."
Lois nodded again. She was beginning to regret her insistence that she not stay with Mortie or Clark. By herself, this way, it was going to be easy to start imagining all kinds of horrors. What if one of Lex's people was on her trail right now? What if someone was just waiting out there for Mortie to leave?
Mortie seemed to read her mind -- not that the thoughts in her head were all that difficult to figure out. "No one followed us. I was watching, and Kent said he was going to alert Superman to keep an eye on you until you were safely tucked away."
Lois swallowed and managed to nod. "I'll be okay."
"Just keep the door and windows locked," Mortie said. "And if you get nervous, call." He nodded at the phone. "Besides, you can always yell 'Help, Superman!'"
"I know. It's just nerves."
"I'd say you're entitled to them," Mortie said. He opened the door. "We'll call you if Kent or Superman finds your witness. I hope she's as useful as you think she is."
"So do I," Lois said.
"As soon as I can contact Henderson without attracting attention, I'll let him know you'd like to see him."
"Yeah," Lois said. "Tell him I said to be careful. Chief Marks may be on Luthor's payroll."
Mortie's eyebrows flew up but he only said, "I'll pass that along." He stepped out of the room and closed the door.
Lois turned the lock with a decisive click. She might as well get ready for bed, she thought. She glanced at her wrist for the fourth time in ten minutes, remembering each time that she had deliberately left the gold watch sitting on the dresser in the penthouse suite. There was a wall-clock, though, and the hands pointed to nearly eleven. A little sleep might be just the thing for her. The world was bound to look better to her tomorrow morning.
Lois finished her bedtime routine quickly. Clark had bought her a toothbrush, toothpaste and hairbrush; she washed her face and gave her hair a perfunctory brushing instead of her usual thorough job. Her hair follicles were just going to have to lump it tonight. She crawled between the sheets and closed her eyes, certain that she was too keyed up to sleep, but after fifteen minutes or so of staring up into the dark of the bedroom, she found her thoughts becoming more and more incoherent. Her last clear thought before she slipped over the edge of sleep was to wonder if Superman had had any luck.
The phone ringing awakened her and she fumbled for the receiver before she remembered that she was hiding out in a Motel 5 next to the Bayside Parkway. She could hear the traffic over the ringing of the phone. Slowly, she picked up the receiver and held her nose with the fingers of her free hand as she answered. "Hello?"
"Lois?" Clark's voice said. "Are you all right? You sound like you have a stuffy nose."
Quickly she dropped her hand. "No, I just wasn't sure who it might be. Did...did Superman find...."
Clark's voice said, "We're not sure. There was a woman who's been staying at the Fourteenth Street shelter, but last night she left just before they closed for the night. She said she was afraid to stay in one place too long. I'd like you to come with me and see if the woman in charge recognizes you."
"Uh...okay." Lois looked at the wall clock, surprised to discover that it was seven-thirty in the morning. "What are we going to tell her?"
"You're the woman's twin sister," Clark said. "I'll pick you up in half an hour."
**********
Lois glanced nervously at her reflection in the motel room's mirror. She had pulled her hair back in a tight ponytail and wore only pale-colored lipstick and heavy mascara for makeup. She hoped fervently that if anyone was looking for Lois Luthor this morning -- and they had probably noticed her absence by now -- that they wouldn't look twice at her. A glance at the wall clock told her that Clark would be here any minute.
She checked out the window again. The November day was bright and sunny, which figured. Today she would have wished for fog, rain -- anything that would make covering her face a reasonable proposition. As it was, she was going to have to rely on her clothing and her hair and makeup to hide her identity.
As she watched, a yellow VW bug turned into the parking lot. It was one of the old classics that one still saw occasionally. The little car pulled into a parking spot directly in front of her room, and after a moment, a man climbed out. It took her a moment to recognize him until he stood up straight and turned to face her. It was Clark.
Clark certainly didn't look much like Clark right now; she had to admit that. As she watched, he pulled his glasses down slightly and turned his head, checking in all directions in the same way as she remembered the Clark of her universe doing when he wanted to look closely at something. Really, she thought, he should see an ophthalmologist about the problem, since his glasses didn't seem to be doing a good enough job. But maybe he had more difficulties with his vision than he'd told her about. He'd even missed Jason Trask in that picture, way back when they were investigating Bureau 39, she recalled. Clark didn't talk much about his own troubles. He was too busy helping everyone else. In fact, she probably needed to help him out once in a while, since he seemed to spend so much of his time bailing her out of jams. Like this one. Talk about the granddaddy of all possible jams!
His knock terminated the mental babble. Lois opened the door, raising an eyebrow at the ratty beard and mustache that he had worn during their investigation of the Metro Club. "Charlie King, I presume."
His teeth flashed in a wide grin. "Bartender extraordinaire," he elaborated. "May I come in?"
She stood back, opening the door wider. He entered and waited until she had closed the door to present her with the coat that hung over his arm. "Here. I borrowed this from a friend of mine. It doesn't look like anything Lois Luthor would wear."
"How would you know?" she inquired. "I thought you hadn't seen her since she...." She broke off at his expression. "I'm sorry, Clark. I guess it's pretty awful when someone you care about the way you care about her is married to somebody else."
He managed a careless shrug that somehow didn't look careless at all. "Yeah. I haven't seen her since she married Luthor, but I've seen pictures of her in the society pages and stuff. I've been worried about her. Superman tried to keep an eye on her, too, but...." He broke off. "It wouldn't be so bad if it had been somebody decent," he said after a pause. "It was pretty disappointing that she wouldn't trust me when I told her about him."
She thrust an arm into the sleeve of the coat that he held for her. "I know -- now. I wouldn't listen to my Clark, either, you know, and I should have known better. I knew, underneath, that Clark wouldn't make stuff like that up about anyone who didn't deserve it. I just -- I don't know, really, why I wouldn't listen. I think it was because it felt like he was challenging my taste in men, or my judgement, or something. I felt as if I was under attack, and so I fought back, accusing him of jealousy and all kinds of things that I knew really weren't true. Mad Dog Lane at her worst, hell-bent on doing things her own way." She looked up at his face and was surprised at the astonished expression that she surprised there. "I didn't care who got hurt or what happened as long as I proved to everyone, and myself," she added, "that *my* judgement wasn't at fault -- all the while knowing down deep that something wasn't right. If Superman, himself, had told me the truth about Lex, I might not have listened. I'll never know for sure."
"Is *that* how you saw it?" he asked. "You know, it never occurred to me that she might think a thing like that. I was scared to death for her -- and jealous, too," he confessed sheepishly. "She was right about the jealous part. But I wouldn't have tried to stop her after she said she didn't -- well, you know, feel that way about me -- if the man she wanted to marry had been a decent guy."
"I know. I'm not a very good friend, sometimes," Lois said, unhappily. "I'm too self-centered to be a good friend to anyone, I think. I get wound up in myself, and then it doesn't matter what anyone else says -- it's me, me, me. I'm sorry, Clark."
Clark shook his head. "That isn't true. When someone's in trouble, you'll do just about anything to help him. I know. Remember when I had amnesia? It was you that made me remember who I really was."
"You said you remembered Superman."
"Yes, but it was *you* who made him real. And then I remembered all the other stuff." He lowered his glasses slightly to look over them out the motel window, pushed them back into place and opened the outer door. "We need to go."
"Yeah." Lois took a deep breath and stepped out ahead of him into the morning sunlight. Clark followed, shutting the door behind them, and then gently pulled her back. "Walk a little behind me. I don't think anyone's around that shouldn't be, but it will be just as well if no one gets a good look at you."
She stopped in her tracks. Where had her caution gone? As soon as Clark had appeared on the scene it seemed as if she had stopped being afraid that Lex or some of his hirelings would see her. "Sorry. You're right."
"Let's just be careful," Clark said. They proceeded to the yellow VW and Clark opened the passenger door for her.
"Don't tell me you finally got a car," Lois said as she got carefully into the seat.
"Watch your head," Clark said. "No, Mortie got hold of it from somewhere." He closed her door and went around the rear of the car to open the driver's door. It wasn't until they had pulled out of the parking space and were waiting for a break in the traffic passing by on the access road, that he spoke again.
"You know, I did some research last night after I got home."
"Research?" she asked.
"Yeah. I looked up some stuff that science fiction authors had come up with about worlds of alternate reality -- where things are almost the same, except where different choices were made. It was interesting stuff, although I wouldn't want to be in some of the possible worlds I read about. There was one where the Nazis won World War Two, and a bunch of others. Scary. Anyhow, it made me think. I've made some choices that weren't too good, myself. Lois had a crush on Superman. I guess she probably still does."
"She might," Lois said, trying to keep her expression bland.
He glanced at her with a small smile. "I guess you still do, too, huh?"
She squirmed slightly. "A little. I think it's probably pretty stupid of me, though. I was dancing with Superman at the Metro Halloween Ball, before all this happened. I made some lame joke about him being the world's most eligible bachelor, and he said he couldn't marry because every bad guy in the world would try to control him by threatening his wife."
"That's what I've always thought," Clark said, surprising her. "If he married, it would have to be done secretly."
"At the very least," Lois said, repeating the words that Superman had spoken to her during that dance.
"Exactly," Clark said. "That's not to say that he *couldn't* marry, but it would have to be done very carefully. Anyhow, I've started to think that I was unfair to Lois by being jealous of her crush on Superman. It's pretty hard for an ordinary man to compete against the perfect hero, which is how she sees him."
"I know," Lois said. "The trouble with that is, of course, that no one is perfect -- not even Superman. He was rude to me the night he came to see me before I married Lex -- and knowing what I know now, I don't blame him a bit. I deserved it. But I had the feeling he was pretty offended about the whole thing, and he reacted by being rude. I was angry at him for that, as well as hurt, which was why I accepted Lex's proposal the next day. Up until then I'd been sort of hesitating. I guess it just proves that even Superman isn't perfect."
"He never claimed to be perfect, Lois."
"Oh, I know. But a lot of people see him that way. I did. It isn't very realistic, of course, but hero-worship often isn't."
"Yeah, I realize that now," he said. "Anyhow, the point of all this is that if I can get *my* Lois out of this mess, I'm going to make some changes. For one thing, I'm going to be more honest with her."
"Clark, you're the most honest guy I know!"
He pulled out into the heavy morning traffic. "In most ways," he said. "But there's one important thing I didn't tell her, and I should have. I didn't exactly lie, but I let her assume some things that weren't true. Lois wouldn't deliberately do something that would harm me, and she isn't shallow. Maybe it will make things better. They can hardly be worse, right now."
"Sure they could," Lois said. "Lex could get his hands on her. I don't know exactly what you're talking about, Clark. I can't think of anything that my Clark hasn't been honest about with me, so maybe that's one of the differences between our two worlds."
He glanced over his shoulder and changed lanes. "Maybe. The important thing now is to find her, and figure out a way to get you home."
"If it's possible," Lois said.
"It has to be," Clark said firmly. His mouth was set, and the expression on his face was one of sheer determination. She had seen her Clark look like that once in a while, and she found it oddly reassuring. Somehow, she couldn't doubt that if the thing could be done, that Clark Kent would somehow manage it.
**********
The Fourteenth Street Women's Shelter was a worn brick building set some distance back from the street. A parking lot next to it held a van that was several years old, but had been carefully washed and waxed. A neat lawn in front of the house was carefully trimmed, and although the grass was somewhat sparse, Lois could see that someone had weeded the flower beds and pruned back the bushes, thoroughly, if somewhat inexpertly.
She glanced nervously at Clark as they walked up the peeling steps. A large, covered front porch, with a swinging seat dangling on chains from above, extended the entire width of the house. From inside, Lois could hear voices speaking faintly, and from somewhere not far away, she could hear the excited shouts of several children apparently engaged in some kind of game.
"Okay," Clark said softly. "Here goes." He rapped on the door.
Silence for several moments, and then the door opened. A woman stood there. She was shorter than Lois, and about ten years older. She observed both of them for a full fifteen seconds before she spoke. "Yes?"
"Superman was here earlier," Clark said courteously. "Asking about a woman who was staying here until last night. He told you that I'd be here later, with someone you could talk to."
"I remember," the woman said. She looked at Lois, frowning slightly.
"Did she look anything like me?" Lois asked, quickly.
"I need to know why you're asking these things," the woman said flatly.
"She's my twin," Lois said. "She's trying to avoid her husband. We suspect that he's looking for her and we need to find her before he does."
The woman looked doubtful. "Well...it's against the rules to talk about anyone staying here."
"Then she *was* here?" Lois asked. "Please, we only want to help her!"
"Well...." The woman examined her face closely. "Yeah," she finally said grudgingly. "You look a lot like her, but I don't know where she is now. She was here until last evening, but she left last night. She said something about meeting someone who might be able to help her, and having to get him a sandwich and torte to pay him with. It didn't make much sense."
Lois looked quickly at Clark. "I think I know," she said. "Thank you," she added, to the still slightly suspicious woman in the doorway. "You've been very helpful."
**********
As they walked away from the Fourteenth Street shelter, Clark looked questioningly at Lois. "I guess you got something out of that," he said.
"Well, sure. Bobby Bigmouth."
Clark blinked at her. "Who or what is a Bobby Bigmouth?"
Lois turned to stare at him. "You know who...." she broke off. "No, I guess you don't. I didn't tell my Clark about Bobby until after we went back to work at the Daily Planet -- after Arianna Carlin tried to turn Metropolis against Superman. That never happened here."
"Okay," Clark said. "I'm lost. Why don't you just start at the beginning?"
"Sure," Lois said. "After Lex fell to his death, Franklin Stern bought the Planet and rebuilt it. With me so far?"
"Stern, huh," Clark said.
"Yeah," Lois said. "And you should tell your Lois after this is all over, that if a woman called Arianna Carlin comes along and tries to convince you and her that Lois is crazy, not to believe her. Arianna is Lex Luthor's ex-wife. Anyway, it was afterwards that I introduced my Clark to Bobby Bigmouth. He's the best snitch in the city, in my own, unbiased, opinion."
"Ah," Clark said. "Now I understand what the name means. But why do you think that my Lois is meeting this Bobby Bigmouth?"
"The sandwich and the torte told me that," Lois explained. "Bobby's payment for information is food. Lots of it. He eats constantly and he's skinny as a rail. He must have a metabolic problem or something, because he's always eating the most grossly fattening stuff I've ever seen and never gains a pound. We need to get hold of Bobby Bigmouth."
"How do we do that?" Clark asked.
"I have his phone number," Lois said. "Actually, it's an answering service."
"An *answering service?*"
Lois nodded. "Yep. Bobby is no ordinary snitch."
"I can see that," Clark said after a startled moment. "Okay, I guess the next move is to call Bobby Bigmouth."
"Well," Lois said, "we can call his number, or we can check out the Gallery Street Pool Hall."
"Oh?"
"Bobby hangs out there a lot of the time. The Imperial Panda House is right across the street."
Clark frowned at her for a moment and then enlightenment dawned. "Oh, the Chinese restaurant. I guess that makes sense."
"Bobby loves Peking duck," Lois said, "and he practically lives for slippery shrimp. And, in an emergency, when the Panda is closed, Al's Diner is right next door."
"Naturally," Clark said. "Okay, let's go."
**********
tbc
