"Ms Lane," Scardino said quickly. "No one is blaming you. I shouldn't have allowed you to take on another assignment so soon. This won't even appear on your record. We'll put it down to the unfortunate consequences of not having recovered from the trauma of your previous assignment."
"When you said it was my word against Moyne's, you didn't mention that you had already decided that his word was more reliable."
"Ms Lane," Scardino said. "I have been concerned that you are getting too personally involved with this assignment. I think that you have allowed your judgment to be impaired. It happens to all of us in this job."
Lois reached into her pocket for the keys.
She thrust one into the padlock on the closet door and opened it.
She sensed Scardino's surprised reaction to the set-up inside the closet.
"Watch this," Lois said. "I'm sure you'll find it very illuminating."
Part 2
Lois watched the counter whirl backwards as the tape rewound. A few seconds later, she pressed 'play' on the remote control and waited.
Slightly to the left of the picture, Mr Kent was lying on the ground, presumably asleep.
Lois contemplated voicing the snarky thought about how frightening he looked, but she controlled herself.
Scardino leaned forward to study the figure on the screen.
Lois paused the tape. "Why don't you look through the window?" she suggested. "You'll get a much better view of him."
Scardino gasped, swallowed, and then slowly turned towards the window. Mr Kent was on the ground, doing push-ups. Again, a caustic comment sprang all too easily to Lois's mind, and again she managed to restrain herself.
After a few seconds, Scardino's attention returned to the small screen. Lois began the tape again. They waited for a minute - watching the prisoner do nothing more menacing than breathe.
Then, suddenly he jolted to a sitting position, his eyes fixed in the direction of the door.
With an agile movement, he leapt to his feet. Lois looked to the right of the screen and could see nothing. Sudden apprehension flooded her.
What if it hadn't been within range of the camera?
She tried to recall how far they had ventured into the room. She wasn't sure. She hadn't exactly been taking note of their position when she had been embroiled in the battle with Moyne.
Then, a flicker of movement came into view - the jostling edge of two entwined bodies.
Her dismay deepened. So far, the tape didn't disprove Moyne's story. He *could* have been fighting to *stop* her from entering the cell.
What was comforting was that the picture clearly showed Mr Kent - standing a few feet from the fight, poised but passive.
Suddenly, Moyne twisted - revealing his face clearly to the camera. He pinned down her legs and yanked her gun from its holster.
He stood and aimed it at her.
There was a blur of movement - it looked as if the tape had jumped a dozen frames - and Mr Kent was standing over her, confronting Moyne and the gun.
Moyne ran at Mr Kent, ricocheted off him, and landed on the ground in a heap.
Mr Kent's right hand was clearly visible hanging at his side - it hadn't moved.
Scardino reached for the remote in Lois's hand and paused the picture. "Neither you nor Moyne mentioned the gun," he said grimly.
"You think Moyne was keen to admit that he pulled a gun on a superior?" Lois asked incredulously.
"Does he know about the camera? Does he know that everything that happens in the cell can be recorded?"
"I don't know," Lois said. "It was already set up when I arrived."
"Trask didn't say anything about it to me."
"Trask was paranoid."
Scardino gave back the remote control and looked intently at the floor for a long, silent moment. "If Trask had this camera here for a long time, there's a chance he had concrete evidence about what happened when Deller and Bortolotto were killed."
"Uh huh," Lois said, hoping Scardino would actually be able to draw a conclusion from what he'd said.
"If the alien did kill them, Trask could have proven it beyond doubt."
Lois stared at him, allowing time for his words to permeate deep into his mind. "I think they thought they *had* proven it beyond doubt," she said resentfully. "No one seemed to question their version of events."
"Are there any other tapes?"
"Not in this office. Did anyone check his home?"
"Yeah," Scardino said. "We went through it looking for anything that could possibly be sensitive."
"Nothing?"
"No. He kept his home and job separate."
"What happens now?" Lois asked.
"The tape doesn't disprove Moyne's contention that you went into the cell of your own volition and that he tried to stop you."
"He stole my weapon and threatened me with it."
"But he didn't shoot."
Didn't he? Lois had been sure she'd heard gunfire. But Moyne couldn't have missed - not from that range.
She could push this. She could demand that the tape be analysed. She could hand over her gun to forensics. She could insist that Moyne be tested for gunpowder residue.
If Moyne had fired, that was attempted murder. That was enough to put him in prison.
But if they proved that he *had* fired the gun, what conclusions would they reach concerning Mr Kent?
If they analysed the tape, they would have proof of the 'frightening powers'.
They could order that the 'discipline sessions' be resumed.
If Lois set the ball rolling, she would have no control over where it stopped.
Scardino let loose a breath that seemed to go on forever. "Ms Lane ... Moyne has an imposing record. He has done jobs that no one else wanted to do. If I pursue this, we might lose an operative who is greatly valued by the higher-ups."
Lois stared at him for a long moment. She understood what he was saying. It was in her hands. She could insist on an official inquiry - but there would be ramifications. The tape evidence probably favoured her story, but it wasn't definitive proof that Moyne had forced her into the cell.
He had aimed the gun at her - but he could say that his motivation was to get her *out* of the cell and protect them both from the alien.
If he had fired, that could be proved - but he could claim it was an instinctive reaction to the alien approaching Lois.
And Moyne had friends in high places.
If she pushed this, it was probably going to be her against them.
And while she was fighting that battle, who would be brought in to guard Mr Kent?
What she'd witnessed in this compound reinforced what she'd known since her earliest days as an agent. The end justified the means. In this job, the end always justified the means.
And if the end was the perceived deliverance of the human race, the means employed to achieve that were not going to trouble the consciences of too many people.
Her best option was to try to broker a deal. Clearly, Scardino wanted this entire episode to die a quiet and dignified death. That was understandable - if it came out that she'd asked him to remove Moyne, there might be questions asked about his handling of the operation.
If she agreed to let this slide, she wanted assurances in return.
"You do know that I could take this tape and go way above your head?" Lois said.
"I know you could," Scardino admitted. "But if there's an inquiry, there will be consequences. Is it still important that you remain in Metropolis?"
"It's imperative. I have to be in Metropolis at least until the end of the year."
Scardino said nothing. He didn't need to. She understood.
"I keep my assignment here - without interference," Lois said in a voice as cold and hard as steel. "Moyne is given an assignment that takes him a long way from Metropolis."
"And the events of this morning are forgotten?" Scardino looked pathetically hopeful that this could be brought to a speedy - and, for him, satisfactory - conclusion.
"Do I have your word that Moyne will never return to the compound?"
"Yes."
"How can you be sure?"
"I'll have him transferred from the hospital in Metropolis and to a government hospital. He'll stay there until he's ready to begin a new assignment."
"If he *leaves*, I want to know."
"OK." Scardino nodded towards the television. "What did the alien do next?"
Lois re-started the tape. They watched as Mr Kent walked over to Moyne and picked him up. He disappeared from view and then returned empty-handed. They watched from behind him as he stood next to Lois. She figured there was no need to inform Scardino that Mr Kent had given her the Neosporin. "He took Moyne to the door," she explained. "He realised that Moyne was too heavy for me to lift."
"And he didn't keep going *through* the door?" Scardino exclaimed in alarm.
"No."
"Was it open?"
"Wide open."
It took Scardino a moment to recover from the realisation of how close they had come to having a rampaging alien killer on the loose. "What is he doing now?" he asked.
"I think he is trying to make it clear that I have nothing to fear from him."
"Did he say anything?"
"Not a word. According to Shadbolt, he hasn't spoken since about a week into his imprisonment."
Scardino grimaced but quickly tried to hide his reaction. He was probably wondering what Trask had done. Shadbolt had said that Mr Kent's desire to speak had been beaten out of him ... but was there more to it?
*Could* he still speak?
On the screen, Mr Kent turned and walked away from Lois. He arrived at the back wall of the cell and lowered to a sitting position.
"There's the savage brute in action," Lois said, unable to keep silent any longer. She stopped the tape. "It may not prove conclusively *how* Moyne and I ended up in the cell, but it does prove that even if I *had* intended to go into the cell, I wasn't in any danger. Not from the prisoner." Lois ejected the tape from the VCR. "When you are considering Moyne's new assignment, you should make sure he has no contact with women."
"Why?"
"He threatened to lock me in the cell. He mentioned that the prisoner hadn't seen a woman in seven years. He gleefully anticipated what the prisoner would do to me. He said he would watch from up here, and after the prisoner had finished, he would come down and take his share."
Scardino swallowed roughly and held out his hand for the tape.
Lois paused.
"I give you my word that the tape won't get destroyed," Scardino said earnestly. "It won't get lost. It won't be used against you to support Moyne and his claims."
"Will it be used against the prisoner?"
"I don't see how that would be possible. He didn't do anything."
*That* was a victory - a minor one, but a victory nevertheless. Lois gave the tape to Scardino. "I want a copy," she said.
He took it with a nod.
"Shadbolt and Longford will be at Trask's funeral on Monday," Lois said.
"You'll be here by yourself?"
"Yes." She said it firmly, hoping he wouldn't lapse into his 'I want you to be safe' spiel.
"Will you be OK for the rest of today? You should go home."
"I will," Lois said. "Did you find out anything about Jonathan and Martha Kent?"
"No. Nothing yet."
"Keep asking. Someone has to know what happened to them."
"I'll do what I can."
"You'll excuse me if I don't see you outside."
Scardino walked to the door of her office. "If you need anything ..."
Lois nodded. After he'd gone, she shut the door, collapsed into her chair, and lifted her throbbing ankle onto the desk.
Mr Kent was running laps of the cell.
Not running, but sprinting. He had a long, smooth stride and moved with effortless grace. He reached the side wall, abruptly changed direction, and charged the length of the cell.
"I hope I've done the right thing," Lois muttered. "For both of us."
||_||
At two o'clock, Longford arrived at the compound. Lois - having sent Shadbolt out to buy lunch - had eaten hers while watching Mr Kent eat his. Now, she left her office and limped to the staffroom.
Shadbolt rose and pulled out a chair for her. She dropped into it with a nod of thanks and faced both men across the table. Longford looked uneasy. Shadbolt was doing a good job of looking unruffled.
"Do either of you have any questions about what happened this morning?" Lois asked.
Shadbolt shook his head.
"Longford?"
"Mr Scardino called me and asked a lot of questions about whether correct procedure has been followed when we have contact with the alien," he said. He fidgeted with the handle of his cup. "I told him there have been some changes."
"Moyne and I ended up in the cell together without the rods," Lois said. "Moyne is saying that I insisted on going into the cell and that he attempted to physically detain me. I am saying that Moyne forced me into the cell with the intention that I would come to the same ending as Deller and Bortolotto."
Longford's head shot up, his mouth dropped open, but he said nothing.
Lois shrugged. "There isn't going to be an inquiry, so I doubt either of you will be asked any further questions."
"No inquiry?" Shadbolt enquired sharply.
"No," Lois said. "It's my word against Moyne's. The only other person here was the prisoner, and I'm sure they would never even think to ask an alien, so no resolution is possible."
"Is Moyne coming back?" Longford asked.
Lois studied his face. He was trying to look deadpan, but anxiety draped his eyes.
Watching closely for his reaction, Lois said, "No, Moyne won't be coming back. He has been transferred to another assignment."
Longford almost smiled. He pulled his face into line quickly, but he'd revealed enough. "Will we be getting someone else?"
"No. Not in the short term."
Shadbolt was gently tapping on the table with his fingers. "We'll need a new roster," he said.
Lois nodded. "I'm thinking we could have eight hour shifts. I can't see the need for three hours a day when there are two of us here."
"Us?" Shadbolt asked.
"I'll be doing the third shift."
Shadbolt nodded as if that confirmed his assumption.
"We'll do eight hour shifts," Lois continued. "But if there is something that requires two people, someone will have to stay a few extra minutes."
"No problem," Shadbolt said gruffly. "But I can't change my hours."
"OK," Lois said. "You do the 6am to 2pm shift."
Shadbolt nodded.
Lois looked at Longford. "Do you want the eight hours overnight or the eight hours of the afternoon and evening?"
"I'd like the overnight hours," Longford said hesitantly.
"Done," Lois said. "You do from ten in the evening to six in the morning. I'll do from two until ten."
Both men nodded, although Longford looked as if he had more to say. "I have a commitment tonight," he said. "Can we start the new arrangement tomorrow?"
"Sure," Lois said. "I'll go home soon and be back at ten to take over."
"Thanks," Longford said.
Shadbolt shuffled in his seat. "Will you leave a rod with us when you're not here?"
Lois had known that this question had to be asked. She looked to Longford. "During your shift overnight, there shouldn't be a reason to go into the cell," she said. "The door will be locked. I will give you my home number. If you feel you need to enter the cell, I want you to call me first."
Longford nodded. Looked relieved even.
Lois figured he liked the idea of sleeping away the hours of his shift.
She looked to Shadbolt. "The prisoner needs breakfast early in your shift and possibly lunch late in your shift."
He nodded.
"I will give you a key and one rod. I don't want you to actually enter the cell - put everything just inside the door. Have it prepared beforehand and have the door open for the minimum amount of time possible."
"OK."
"I have a suggestion," Longford said.
Lois tried to stifle her surprise. "Go ahead."
"We could put breakfast in there before I leave. If Shadbolt steps into the doorway, I'll stand behind him with the rod. That will cut down the time he's in there; he will have both hands free because he won't have to hold the rod."
Lois's attention swung to Shadbolt. "Is that all right with you?"
He nodded. "And we could give him lunch the same way when you arrive at two."
This was working out better than she had dared hope. "I want to reiterate that no one is to enter the cell unless there are extraordinary circumstances," Lois said. "I can't think of any reason why you would need to open the door other than at the scheduled times, but if you do, I want to know about it beforehand."
They both nodded. She thought she detected relief - perhaps neither of them had liked going into the cell.
Or perhaps they really were worried about what the alien might do now that he wasn't being regularly *disciplined*.
"Do you want us to give him the bowl of washing water when we put breakfast in there?" Shadbolt asked.
"Would you be willing to do that?"
"Yes."
"OK," Lois said. "Good. I'll get the bowl out of the cell the night before and leave it on the drainer for you."
Shadbolt tapped the table again. "Are you going to wait until ten o'clock when Longford gets in to give the alien his evening meal?"
"No," Lois said.
"You're going to open the door even though you're here alone?"
"I will use the rod," Lois said. As she spoke the words, she didn't know whether they were the truth or not.
"Are you worried about being alone with him?" Longford asked. "I'm sure anything could wait until I get here at ten."
Lois felt genuine appreciation for the willingness of both men to cooperate. "Thanks," she said with a small smile at Longford. "If I have any doubts about safety, I'll wait for you to arrive."
Shadbolt looked up at her, his face tight.
"What are you thinking, Shadbolt?" Lois asked. She could guess, but she couldn't see any harm in encouraging him to be open.
"He hasn't had a discipline session for almost four days. He's barely had any exposure to the rod in that time."
"There hasn't been a change in his behaviour," Lois said evenly. "He hasn't become more aggressive. He can anticipate when someone is going to open the door, yet he's always on the other side of the cell."
"Perhaps he's trying to lure you into carelessness."
"What makes you say that?"
"Bortolotto decided that the rods weren't needed."
... And he's dead.
The completion of Shadbolt's sentence hung in the air more tellingly than if he'd spoken aloud.
"I haven't decided the rods aren't needed," Lois said.
"I've seen what he can do," Shadbolt stated.
"So have I," she replied.
His eyebrows shot up. "You've seen the photos of Deller and Bortolotto?"
"I've seen enough," she answered evasively.
"I don't want to have to do any more body recoveries," Shadbolt said darkly.
"I don't want that either," Lois said, trying to inject a little levity into the conversation. It fell flat. "I'm going home for a few hours to get some sleep," she said. "I'll be back before ten tonight."
"What happens with his meal this evening?" Longford asked.
Lois hesitated, thinking through the logistics. "We'll give it to him when I get here."
"OK."
"Trask's funeral is on Monday at two o'clock," Lois said. "I've told Scardino that you'll both be there."
Their nods of agreement held no trace of emotion.
"On Monday, I'll be here mid-morning so you have enough time to get ready," Lois told Shadbolt.
"Thanks."
"Anything else you wanted to ask? Discuss?"
"What happens to that tin box you gave him?" Shadbolt asked. "Do you want it taken from him?"
"No," Lois said. "It can stay in there permanently now. Any further questions?"
Both men shook their heads.
Lois returned to her office and looked through the window. Mr Kent was reading one of the copies of the Daily Planet. She wondered how many times he had read them. She wished there was a way to get a note to him telling him that his evening meal would be delayed ... telling him that things were going to be better from now on ... telling him that not everyone outside of the cell feared and hated him ... telling him that she was convinced he hadn't murdered Deller and Bortolotto.
But she shrunk from giving him a note now. If she did, Longford would know.
Never give anything away.
Her respect for the power of knowledge had been hard-won. And if Shadbolt knew that she was communicating with the prisoner, he would worry. It was possible he would be so worried that he would go to Scardino.
So there could be no note. Not now.
"Sorry, Mr Kent," she muttered as she picked up her bag. "Your meal will be a little delayed tonight."
She couldn't activate the camera because she had no tape.
At the bottom of the stairs, she called to Longford. "I'll be back before ten. Call me if there are any problems."
"OK."
Lois exited the compound and walked past her parked car, past the warehouse, and onto the sidewalk, where she hailed a cab.
She probably could have tolerated the pain of trying to drive her car, but she just wanted to get home and crash into bed.
In the cab, she called Uncle Mike.
She postponed tonight's delivery and asked for two meals at 9:30.
"Nine-thirty?" Uncle Mike said. "You won't be eating until then? Lois, are you looking after yourself properly?"
Lois clamped down on her grim chuckle. Would Uncle Mike deem that the events of this morning - tussling with a man she believed was a cold-hearted killer in the cell of a supposed alien with a rap sheet that included two murders - constituted 'looking after herself'?
"I'm fine, Uncle Mike," she said.
"Two meals?" he said. "Are you expecting to be hungry? Or do you have a friend?"
"I have a ... a friend," Lois said, hoping there would be no further questions about the *friend*.
"You haven't dropped into the cafe yet."
"I will," she promised, glad to move away from the topic of her request for the second meal. "I'll try to get there over the weekend." She hung up the call and sank back into the seat of the cab.
Her ankle hurt, her arm was still stiff, and her face had an uncomfortable tightness that made it feel like it was beginning to swell. But she was exhausted - exhausted enough that sleep should come painlessly.
And for that, Lois was grateful.
In her apartment, she slipped the holster from her ankle and took out her weapon.
She unloaded it and gasped.
It *had* been fired.
Moyne *had* fired it.
How could he have he missed from a few feet away?
The alien is bulletproof.
They'd said that the alien was bulletproof.
They'd said he'd been shot before ... and survived.
Was he impervious to bullets?
Had he taken the bullet that Moyne had meant for her?
Lois locked the weapon in her safe and slipped into bed.
Tiredness enveloped her body.
Questions stormed her mind.
||_||
It was after eight o'clock when Lois awoke that evening. She had slept dreamlessly, and when she tumbled from her bed, she felt more refreshed than she had for a long time.
After showering and adding more ointment to the graze on her face, she took out her rolled-up camp mattress, her sleeping bag, and a pillow. She put her toothbrush, toothpaste, moisturising cream, hairbrush, and a blank videotape into her bag.
It didn't feel completely different from the times she had packed for a Girl Scout camp.
The feeling was heightened when she put a Hershey's Snickers bar into her bag.
And then added another one.
Lois called the nursing home and asked the nurse to pass on a message to her father that she had been detained at work and would visit him the next morning. She hoped she would be able to walk without noticeably limping by then - and that makeup would be sufficient to reduce the abrasion to little more than a scratch.
She left her apartment, caught a cab, and as the brightly lit streets of Metropolis whizzed past, she couldn't totally dispel the slightly adventuresome feeling invoked by the presence of her sleeping bag.
Lois punched her pillow into the junction of the seat and the door and reclined into it.
She'd been working at her new assignment for five days.
She had been determined to remain aloof ... to avoid getting involved ... to do the duties assigned to her like a robot ...
On that front, she'd failed dismally.
She'd made an enemy.
An enemy who had tried to kill her.
She'd arrived at a working relationship with Longford and Shadbolt. Sometimes, she even found Shadbolt almost affable - in crusty and curmudgeonly sort of way.
And then there was Mr Kent.
When Moyne had pushed her into the cell, Mr Kent had chosen to help her.
He could have stayed in the far corner of the cell. He could have run through the open door. He could have attacked both her and Moyne. He could have assisted Moyne. He could have raped her.
But he'd instantly and unequivocally sided with her.
He'd stood over her ... not to threaten but to guard.
Was that because she was a woman, and he still maintained old-fashioned ideas of gallantry? Or was it because he knew about Moyne ... and knew about the killings that had been perpetrated in his cell?
Were his actions an expression of his hostility towards Moyne?
Or were they indicative of his attitude towards her?
Was it possible he had figured out that she was responsible for his improved conditions? He knew that someone lurked, unseen, behind the window. He seemed to realise that whoever was behind there controlled his life.
Had he connected the unknown figure behind the window with the person who had been pushed, rather ingloriously, into his cell?
Had he worked out that she was the one with total authority over his life?
And, therefore, that she was the one to work on to gain an advantage?
And if he *were* manoeuvring for an advantage, was it simply to try to keep the small improvements she had begun?
Or did he have a much bigger - and more sinister - agenda?
Why hadn't he escaped when the door was open?
The cab pulled up outside the warehouse, and Lois paid the driver and hauled her things to the compound. She unlocked the door, and Longford came from the staffroom.
"Is everything OK?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"His meal will arrive soon," Lois said as she began to climb the stairs. "We'll put it in the cell, and then you can go home."
Longford looked at the array of articles she carried. "It's difficult for me to climb stairs if I'm carrying something," he said. "But I can stand at the bottom and throw your things up to you."
"OK," Lois said. She dropped everything except her bag and slowly mounted the stairs.
At the top, she turned and caught the three individual bundles as Longford threw them up to her.
"Thanks," she said.
He nodded and returned to the staffroom.
Lois unlocked her office, entered, and went to the window. The alien was sitting against the wall. The newspapers were next to him, but he wasn't reading them; he was staring ahead with a blank look on his face.
Actually, it wasn't blank.
It was the same disheartened look that he'd had after Moyne had destroyed the toothbrush.
Like he'd lost something.
Lois groaned in self-recrimination.
Of course, he was going to wonder about the outcome of what he'd witnessed that morning.
Of course, he was going to fear how it would affect him.
Since then, two meals had been pushed into his cell - and a note of thanks - but now there had been nothing from the other side of the door for over seven hours.
A week ago, that was probably the normal - and most desirable - situation for him.
But things had changed.
Lois experienced a small trickle of satisfaction. Things *had* changed. She had changed them. And she intended to continue changing them.
But first, she had to reassure him that his life wasn't going to return to how it used to be.
Was he surreptitiously watching the door, wondering if someone armed with a rod was about to burst through it and start attacking him? Was he awaiting Moyne to come and take revenge?
Mr Kent's face - what she could see under the beard - seemed to indicate that he thought it was a possibility.
Within her rose a compulsion ... a strange compulsion considering she was just about convinced that he'd survived a bullet.
She had to protect him.
She had been assigned to ensure that he didn't escape.
That he didn't hurt the world.
But now ... now she was much more driven to ensure that the world didn't hurt him.
And to do that, she had to stay.
She had to stay long enough to safeguard his future.
And that meant she had to be careful. If it somehow got back to Scardino that she was forging any sort of association with the prisoner, the higher-ups would get antsy and rip her off the assignment.
Particularly Moyne's *friend* - whoever he was.
Despite all the advancements, the higher-ups were usually male. And they usually believed that a woman was more susceptible to a clever story than a man was.
If she protested Mr Kent's situation too loudly, it was more likely that she would lose respect than it was that he would gain it.
Lois groaned.
She had asked Scardino about Mr Kent's parents.
That was - potentially - a mistake.
In order to ensure that she remained on this assignment, she needed to break all communication with the prisoner. She had to be impersonal, remote, and unequivocally professional.
Scardino had already made a couple of comments about her becoming too involved.
She'd ignored him because she had known that - other than her curiosity regarding how Mr Kent had ended up as Trask's prisoner and showing some basic compassion for someone who'd been treated so appallingly - Scardino's concerns were unfounded.
But that was before this morning.
That was before he had stood over her to protect her from Moyne.
Before he had given her the Neosporin.
Before he had looked at her with his eloquent eyes that communicated on a level so much deeper than mere words could have done.
She could still see those dark brown eyes ... staring at her ... speaking to her ...
In the cell, the prisoner hadn't moved.
His shoulders were slumped. His hands were lying listlessly on his thighs.
Either the communication between them had to stop ...
... Or she had to ensure that Scardino believed it had stopped ... and keep Shadbolt and Longford from suspecting it had started.
Lois gave a small smile. Work in secret? Maintain a charade to cover what she was really doing? Lie when necessary? Appear detached? She could do that.
She walked out of her office and retrieved her bedding from the landing.
Then she went downstairs to await the arrival of their meals.
