A night of spring, 1946
Batman cursed his luck as he felt himself and the Batmobile soar through the air. Through the fogged window, he barely could see the dockside warehouses beneath his feet. He had one chance to open the door and jump. That damn Kryptonian flying woman couldn't drop the car on a warehouse filled with night shift workers. He was in time for a not too painful fall. If he was able to fire the grappling gun in time, he could hang unharmed from a roof. Now or never. He had no doubt that the damned Kryptonian would turn him in to the police. One, two, three... Batman opened the door and jumped. Rain whipped at his face as he tried to reach for the grapple, but a red blur enveloped him, and he felt an irresistible pull. Suddenly, he found himself back in the Batmobile, banging against the roof and hearing the door slam shut. The Batmobile rocked violently, then steadied itself. He heard a muffled but firm female voice below.
"Don't try anything stupid, Mr. Wayne, I'm taking you home. I'm being very generous. This is the end of the escape."
The Batmobile soared above the clouds carried by Superwoman, out of sight of the city. Bruce Wayne tried to calm down. The radio was not working; it was impossible to warn Alfred or Lucius Fox. They began to descend with speed. The Batmobile carried by the red caped lady broke through the clouds. The rain and darkness prevented Batman from seeing nearly anything, but he recognized the aspen path that surrounded Wayne Manor. The vehicle was deposited softly on the wet gravel. Batman readied the gun and two batarangs. He had always refused to use the gun. It was a last resort that he'd only used once…he wasn't sure he'd ever used it on a human. He wished that Robin and Catwoman were still by his side. He had been Batman for seven years; this couldn't be the end. The red-caped woman stood at the door. The rain distorted her image behind the window. It looked like she was opening the door of the Batmobile for him, but instead she was ripping it off. Through the rain and darkness, he could see a pair of deep blue eyes and the red cape glowing.
"Get out of this thing, please, Mr. Wayne, I beg you. You're home."
Batman quickly aimed the pistol at Superwoman's bent knee, but in a split second, Superwoman smashed the gun in front of him, turning it into a strange mess of metal.
"Stop making a clown of yourself."
The woman they had been calling Superwoman for a few months, now grabbed him violently by the armor, deforming it with her super-strength, and threw him out of the Batmobile into a puddle. The rain was now torrential. He turned and threw a batarang at the beautiful alien's face, but it bounced hard and missed. The caped woman did not change her gesture and continued to look at him severely.
"I guess you haven't figured out that bullets bounce off me yet," she said firmly.
Batman sat up. Seven years as Batman and he had never encountered such a creature. Through the poplars and cottonwoods, he saw a light go on in the mansion... Alfred!
Superwoman approached him. Her hair was soaked. Water dripped from her suit and cape, which seemed to be completely waterproof. Her blue eyes seemed to glow. Her appearance was soft and graceful, but her touch was brutal. She tore off his helmet with one hand, crushing it into a tangle of metal and plastic and stomping on it with her red boot. Then she gently removed the black velvet mask he wore under his helmet. Water began to trickle down Bruce Wayne's face.
"Mr. Wayne, your despotic rich boy adventures end here. I could turn you over to the police, but I understand the shades of gray in this city and the life you've led. Consider this my retirement gift for the Bat."
Bruce was furiously silent.
With grace, Superwoman lifted the Batmobile above her head and hurled it through the treetops. Leaves and branches rained down on them. The superheroine rose like a bolt of lightning and shot through her eyes a fiery beam at the flying Batmobile... It exploded, sending pieces of burning metal raining down on the grass. Superwoman shielded Batman with her long red cape. Bruce watched as one million dollars from 1940, and four years of engineering work, went up in flames.
Through the rain, he heard gunfire. It was Alfred.
"They're coming for you." The Woman of Steel said in an icy voice.
"Alfred! If you do something to him, I'll..."
"Who do you think I am? I'm nothing like you. I want to make one thing clear: the time for games has ended. This is a serious matter. As the raven once proclaimed, nevermore. From this moment forward, the police and I will assume responsibility for upholding law and order in Gotham. The era of vigilantes and torturers is over. My apologies, Mr. Wayne, but it might be time for you to seek out a new pastime."
The superheroine seemed to be getting ready to take off, Alfred was running closer and closer to them.
Bruce countered, "You're making a big mistake, Clara Josephine Kent."
Superwoman turned with a wild look of disbelief, anger and surprise.
"I said, Clara Kent, that you are making a very big mistake... You do not know who the League of Assassins really are, and you do not know what Thalia Al-Ghul is capable of. You are putting thousands of lives at risk. I have faced them before. I took out their former boss. You have no idea of their strength, their fanaticism, their resources..."
The superheroine continued to look at him with anger and doubt.
"Mr. Wayne! Bruce," Alfred called worriedly from nearby.
"I'm fine, Alfred," Bruce replied.
"How… How did you...?" Superwoman stammered.
"It was an unforgivable mistake to appear so aggressive in that interview, Miss Kent, and I've seen better disguises than a bun and eyeglasses."
A clap of thunder lit up the scene. Bruce could not watch as a tear ran down Superwoman's rain-slicked face. She had just been defeated.
"I don't care who you really are. But I can help you with the League of Assassins, Miss Kent. You would be making a terrible mistake if you turned down my help. I won't bill you for the car you just destroyed."
Gotham, 6 October 1948
Clara Kent and Jimmy Olsen paused for a moment and looked up. The massive Wayne Tower, the third tallest building in America after the Empire State Building and the Metropolis TELCORP Tower, loomed in front of them. Clara closed her eyes and with her super hearing she could make out thousands of voices, including the familiar voice of Bruce Wayne talking to his advisors.
"I don't like the fact that we're going back to the age of the tycoons," Jimmy sighed.
"I'm sorry?"
"I don't know, Clara. The war is over, and once again half the names in the papers are millionaires... Luthor, Strauss, Lord, Wayne, Rockefeller... Their voices carry weight in politics and diplomacy. I thought that world had died with the Crash of '29 and the New Deal. But here we are again, asking a millionaire playboy what he thinks about the state of the world."
"Aw, Jimmy, you know darn well what I think. Ain't no man sittin' on a million dollars still got room left for a heart!" Clara gave a sly smile at Jimmy.
Poor Jimmy. He obviously didn't know what Bruce was going through and the effort he was making. Bruce was stubbornly pretending to be a frivolous playboy with occasional moments of lucidity to distract everyone, while at night, and sometimes for long days, he was fighting evil as Batman. Nor did Jimmy know that under her pale blue shirt and beige plush jacket and skirt, she wore the blue tights and red cape of Superwoman.
Clara continued gracefully, "But Mr. Wayne is still an important person in the technological sector... He has Lucius Fox in his company, who is said to be the best mind in America after Lex Luthor."
"Luthor, if he didn't hate Superwoman so much and have such an ugly face, I'd like him better than Wayne. At least he's a great philanthropist and has a reputation as a liberal."
Oh Jimmy, if you only knew who Lex Luthor really is...
Jimmy scratched his head and photographed the skyscraper. "I think Mr. Wayne likes you."
"Don't be silly Jimmy, he likes anything with a skirt on," Clara lied.
"When we saw you with him in the bar at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, we couldn't believe it."
Clara blushed, "Jimmy, I just wanted to interview him and get some information about Luthor. Bruce knows I don't like him, and he's interested in having good relations with the press."
"Yes, that's right," Jimmy laughed, "I prefer him to Louis, to be honest. I think he's a better catch."
Clara got angry. "Honey, it's important to learn when to remain silent, at least occasionally."
"I'm sorry, I was just joking."
"It's not funny."
"Well Clara, you're not known for having much of a sense of humor."
They both entered the grand foyer of Wayne Tower.
"Did Louis say anything to you about the Metropolis mayoral election?" Jimmy asked.
"Mmm... No, now that you mention it. He's only talking about the senate and presidential elections."
"So, the rumours are true."
"Which rumours, Jimmy?"
"Mason Norris was always said to be Pat Lane's lover."
Clara was taken aback. She knew Pat Lane, Louis' wife, had been unfaithful to him more than once… Louis had hinted, in his own way, that they'd come to some sort of arrangement so Pat could live her own life. But what Clara didn't know was that Mason Norris, the charming, millionaire art patron and Republican candidate for mayor of Metropolis, was Pat Lane's lover. There was so much Louis kept from her...
"I thought Louis didn't like Norris because he was from the liberal wing of the Republican Party. Okie dokie, now Jimmy, please stop gossiping."
"You didn't know about this story?"
"No."
Jimmy shrugged.
"Jimmy, please don't talk to me about these things." She insisted.
"I'm sorry, Clara."
Clara didn't want to be angry with Jimmy. They never talked about Louis. He was her best friend, but she knew he disapproved that kind of relationship she had with Louis.
They went to one of the counters. "We're Clara Kent and Jimmy Olsen from the Daily Planet, we have an interview with Mr. Wayne and Mr. Fox at 10am."
The receptionist made several calls and three men in suits led them to a special lift. They travelled up more than sixty floors until they reached the executive floor. They were made to wait in a large lobby with a huge glass window overlooking all of Gotham.
"Wow, what a view," Jimmy went up and took several pictures.
A cheerful voice interrupted them. "Miss Kent... It's good to see you again."
Bruce Wayne appeared out of nowhere. Clara looked at him with amusement. There he was, tall, strong, elegant, wearing a tailored suit, with his farsighted glasses, always replaced by contact lenses when he fought crime as Batman. Many people said he was similar to Burt Lancaster. Now it was time for a pantomime, as if they barely knew each other. Clara shook his hand as Bruce held back a laugh. Jimmy looked at them a little strangely.
After Bruce Wayne came Lucius Fox, one of America's most admired scientists and inventors. He was also a symbol of the African American people. Lucius Fox was from Mississippi and had lived a hard life before becoming the Chief Technology Officer of Wayne Industries. His books on mechanics were read in every university and college. He was one of the few black men who had openly succeeded in America outside of film and show business, overcoming racism in all other fields. His popularity declined, however, because he had declared himself an enemy of the bomb.
Clara asked the usual questions about the atomic bomb, which the Russians now had, the Rand Corporation, developments in aeronautics, the possibility of researching alien technology, the future of aviation, the need for peace-oriented technology and mass consumption. Almost all the answers were given by Lucius Fox, while Bruce pretended to be frivolous and repeated advertising slogans, even daring to wink at Clara once, but Jimmy didn't notice, he was too busy photographing them.
When the interview was over, Lucius left, and Bruce invited Clara into his office for a brief off-the-record chat. Jimmy shot Clara a mischievous look and said he'd wait for her at reception. Clara followed Bruce into the millionaire's sunlit office, which overlooked the whole Gotham skyline. He welcomed her warmly and kissed her on the cheek.
"How are you, Clara?"
"Exhausted!"
"What was yesterday?"
"Terrible. I spent ten hours rescuing injured people after the earthquake in Turkmenistan. I'll go back and help again as soon as I'm free of Jimmy. Not to mention the usual everyday thefts and accidents"
"Have you thought about what we talked about last week?"
"Yes, I don't want you and Barry to do anything stupid. You won't try to raid a US base. You'd end up behind bars sooner or later."
"Aren't you worried of whatever the government and Luthor are planning?"
"Of course, I'm concerned, but we can't be labeled as public enemies."
"We already are to the government, even if they don't dare say it."
"They'll have to make the first move. Besides, Luthor will never submit to the government. He's a megalomaniac, and he's obsessed with me. Sooner or later, he'll make a move on his own. When he does, we'll bring him down and expose him. Luthor's downfall will also hit the Rand Corporation, and that will likely trigger a commission of inquiry."
"You're too optimistic, Clara."
"I don't want to violate the laws of my government."
"A government that's funding and working with the people who want to kill you."
"Maybe with the change of government..."
"I don't think so. MacArthur and Admiral Strauss, who are in line to be Secretary of Defense if Dewey wins, hate you even more than the present Secretary of Defense."
"When I'm attacked in public, the only defense I have is that I follow the law and that I'm in the business of saving lives, Bruce. That's all I have."
"Well, according to District Attorney Harvey Dent, I don't do the former. Batman has 27 counts against him in the Miskatonic District Attorney's office. I'm damn lucky the police are in the business of sabotaging Dent and his team of attorneys."
Clara sighed and looked through the large glass window of Bruce's office. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"
"I'm going to need the cavalry, either you or Barry. According to my research, a ship is coming in carrying smuggled weapons and possibly women trafficked from Europe for prostitution. It's being run by a second-rate mobster with some kind of weird FBI protection, but I think I can disrupt the landing and force the police to act."
"Of course, count me in. As soon as I'm done in Turkmenistan, I'll be with you, hand in hand. At what time?"
"Batman will be there at 1am, but he doesn't intend to act until 2am."
"BRUCE, PLEASE DON'T TALK ABOUT YOU IN THE THIRD PERSON", Clara started to laugh.
Bruce smiled and took her hand. "How's everything else going?"
"Well, work is good. My bosses seem to like my series of articles on the defense industry and the Rand Corporation... But yesterday's earthquake hit me hard."
"Clara, Superwoman can't be everywhere, and I don't think she can stop the tectonic plates from moving."
"If I have the ability to cause tsunamis to implode and halt their progress, or to dissolve hurricanes, perhaps someday I might also find a way to address earthquakes."
"Clara, you can't. I have a certain scientific background and..."
"I forgot who the Batman is…a scientist and a detective!"
"Indeed."
They smiled at each other. Bruce turned and began pacing the office.
"Things aren't easy out there. Still, there's always a bright spot or two."
Clara watched him with a touch of melancholy.
"There always is... Come on, out with it. Something's got you in good spirits, or you wouldn't have dropped it like that. I know you."
Bruce sank into an armchair, lost in thought.
"Selina's doing better. She recognized me this time… for the first time. It's an enormous step."
Clara regarded him with tender affection. He was still deeply, hopelessly in love with Selina Kyle, the former music-hall singer who, with her charm and feline grace, had made herself into a thief… and perhaps into something like a heroine: Catwoman. But after a terrible clash with the Joker and the Penguin, Selina had fallen into a deep depression, and she remained committed to a psychiatric hospital. Bruce spent a fortune on specialists and visited her every morning, though she scarcely seemed to know him. He had never told Clara the whole story. It had happened in 1943, before they met, before Superwoman had even appeared. Until recently, all Clara knew was what she'd pieced together from passing remarks and Alfred's discreet asides.
"I'm so glad to hear that, Bruce. Truly."
"Nothing's changed, mind you, the state of things is what it is. Business as usual. It's only a hope."
"That's plenty."
Bruce never asked about her private life. And this was only the second time, in more than two years of friendship and alliance, that he had mentioned Selina by name. She needed to talk, too.
"I trust you remember Mr. Lane."
"How could I forget."
"He's been swallowed up by the election, and by his daughter. But things seem to be going better for us, and there may be changes soon... Perhaps... Well, you know he's married. There's the girl, and on his side there's the religious question..."
"Clara, you ought to tell him the truth. I know it would be hard at first, but in the end he'd understand. Believe me when I tell you. Some lies only grow worse the longer you keep them."
"It's not that simple. When he's ready… and when I am. Telling him now would only drive him away and put him in danger."
Bruce allowed himself a small smile.
"Your disguise isn't that good, and he isn't that dumb."
Clara found herself wondering which disguise he meant, her office clothes or the Superwoman suit, and the question left her vaguely uneasy.
"You're not as clever as you all think. You only caught on because I bit too hard in that interview... Well, Bruce, I'd better be going, or Jimmy will start thinking something funny's going on here."
"One question. Is Mr. Lane still clinging to that pet theory of his, the one he's been peddling for years… that Batman isn't one man at all, but several, hired and trained by the police and the city's tycoons to keep order outside the law and serve as a piece of civic propaganda?"
"He believes it firmly. He's also convinced one of them broke his arm."
"1940 was a rough year, and Mr. Lane behaved more like a professional agitator than a newspaperman. I saved his life, he broke that arm all by himself."
"This kind of things were the reason because you and I did not get along well at first."
"I remember it very well. You smashed my Batmobile, you ripped off my helmet and mask, you wrote that I was a dangerous fascist vigilante..."
"Bruce! Your dear Harvey Dent convinced me that you were a dangerous torturer and protector of thugs. And I knew who you were the first time I saw you."
"Surprised?"
"I believed Louis' theory that there were many Batmen, and that they were all police and mob-trained thugs. Have you forgiven me yet for the Batmobile?"
"It's been almost three years, it's already covered by the book depreciation," Bruce joked.
"I was so wrong."
"I know," Bruce laughed sympathetically.
"Bruce!"
"You apologize to me almost every day! You're so annoying! Two days after you blew up my Batmobile, I thought you were the most amazing and decent woman in the world."
Clara blushed. "It's a good thing you figured out my secret identity, or I wouldn't have listened to you about Thalia Al-Ghul."
"It was worse in '42, believe me. Her father and a group of Nazi agents tried to detonate a chemical bomb in Gotham, would've killed at least a million people. But you've done greater things, Clara. You forget that every single soul on this planet owes you their life."
"I don't like to think about that," she said, her voice tense.
"As you wish." He sighed, rubbing his temple. "I've been at this for almost a decade now. I'm thirty-nine, Clara. I'm tired. There are things I've chosen to forget, automatically, even."
"I need you. Everyone needs you. You…more than you realize, you force Barry and me to think with our heads."
"That's the job, Clara. But let's be honest, it's Superwoman the world really needs. You show your face. You fly through bright skies. You give them hope."
"Stop, please."
He gave a quiet chuckle. "I knew the moment I met you. That first interview? Glasses and a fancy bun? Not exactly the best disguise."
"Bad enough that it works on everyone."
Bruce laughed, a rare sound, before glancing at her with something softer in his expression. "Thank God we got along in the end."
"It always starts like this for me. I get off on the wrong foot with the people who... well, who end up meaning the most to me."
"Because you're as stubborn as they come."
"Funny. Coming from a man as thick-skulled as you." Clara smirked.
Bruce leaned back slightly, his tone shifting. "By the way… Do you know who bankrolled more than half of Dent's campaign? And the judges backing him?"
"Luthor. I read it in the Gotham Tribune, Vicki Vale's report." Clara's expression darkened.
Bruce nodded. "What do you think?"
Clara exhaled, her jaw tightening. "That they're coming after you. And after me. I know, Bruce. I'm aware."
"It won't be long before they try the same thing against you in the Senate or in Metropolis. Dent and Attorney Edge are now close allies."
"That's why I won't budge an inch from the way I do things. If I want people to continue to trust Superwoman."
"I commissioned some polling… well, Lucius commissioned it. You still have 70 percent of the public on your side, 80 percent in Metropolis. But your unfavorable rating is already at 25 percent. That's high, Clara. Mine is 50, sure, but 25 can become 40 very quickly. Luthor will exploit that. And the Secretary of Defense, whether it ends up being Strauss or Forrestal…"
"I'm not a politician. I have my own principles, and my own way of doing things, one that has already been agreed with the President and the UN. I intend to keep doing my job exactly as I have been. And that includes you and Barry…"
Bruce smiled and put his hands lovingly on her shoulders. "Well Superwoman, I'll see you tonight. Thanks for your help."
Clara gave him a mocking military salute. "At your service, Colonel Bat!"
Clara met Jimmy downstairs and they took a bus to the hotel. Jimmy looked at her strangely.
"What did Mr. Wayne tell you?"
"He gave me names of people I'm interested in for my research."
"I see… And why is he helping you?"
"She found me sympathetic, and he doesn't like people associated with the Rand Corporation."
When they arrived at the hotel, Jimmy suggested they take a walk around the neighborhood to look for stories, or at least a few good photographs. Clara feigned tiredness and told him she wanted to stay in and rest. They stepped into the elevator together, and Jimmy got off on the third floor. Clara was left alone. Up, up, and away! In a split second, she pulled the pins from her hair and let it fall loose, slipped off her glasses, and shrugged out of her skirt, blouse, and jacket, revealing the blue suit beneath, with the red-and-gold crest of the House of El emblazoned across her chest. As her red cape unfurled behind her, she pushed open the elevator hatch overhead and shot into the sky, bound for Turkmenistan to help the victims of the earthquake. A moment later, the elevator doors opened on the fifth floor with nobody inside.
***
Superwoman returned to her hotel room after nearly eight hours spent rescuing the injured and aiding earthquake survivors in Turkmenistan, as well as making a few quick rescues and arrests of the handful of criminals still reckless enough to challenge the daily dominion of Batman, the Flash, and the Lady of Steel. She quickly changed into Clara Kent and had dinner with Jimmy in the hotel's restaurant. Jimmy kept glancing sideways at her.
"Who do you think will win, Clara?"
"I guess Dewey."
"Do you think he'll ask Congress to legislate about Superwoman? They're talking about special legislation."
"No, I don't think so."
"What do you think?"
"Well, I think as long as they let her keep saving lives, legislation to give people peace of mind wouldn't be a problem. I'm sure Superwoman will obey the law whether she likes it or not."
"Don't you think we're being a little ungrateful?"
"I don't think it's a question of gratitude. I don't think we need to be grateful to her. She's trying to do her duty like everybody else. I don't look at her any differently than I look at the police or how I look at doctors and nurses." Clara said gravely.
Jimmy smiled. "Clara, you seem to be the person in the paper who is the least excited and the least interested in Superwoman."
"I think we've seen so much in the last few years... Superwoman is just one thing more," Clara sighed, "Plus I think she's trying to be discreet and not get involved in public life. I think any politician or public figure gives us more headaches."
"You're the only one who thinks that way."
"In any case, I must admit that you take good pictures of her, very good pictures." Clara gave a questioning smile.
Jimmy moved a little closer to Clara, "Sometimes I get a little scared."
"Why?"
"She looks like she's posing for me."
Clara hid her embarrassment and adopted a joking tone. "Maybe she has you on file and likes the way you take pictures."
"Why do you think she let us interview her first? Louis Lane is a great interviewer and a good journalist, but he's relatively young and he'd just come back from the war. He'd been out of journalism for four years. There are a lot of bigger name journalists who would have done a great interview. Cat Grant or Mailer at our paper, without going any further, Paul Anderson, Edna Lee Booker, Liebling, Lipman, Tess Harding?"
"Jimmy, my darling, Chance, I'll spell it for you: c-h-a-n-c-e."
"I don't believe in those things, Clara, I think we've got her close."
"Oh, Jimmy, what nonsense... As long as Superwoman isn't Pat Lane…"
Clara's heart was pounding. Jimmy suspected something… She had believed she could trust him, believed she knew him well. But what if he discovered the truth before she could explain it? What if others did too, and her secret identity slipped beyond her control? She masked her anxiety with light jokes, and soon they were talking about inconsequential things. When dinner was over, Clara said she was terribly tired, withdrew to her room, changed in a flash, and as Superwoman streaked out through the window into the night.
Well, tonight should be easy, arrest a few mobsters, it's only bullets and machine guns. Nothing that will take me more than a few minutes.
After several rescues, she flew to the harbor around one in the morning, where she found Batman perched on the roof of a warehouse, watching something with binoculars.
Bruce stared fixedly at the faint lights of a freighter offshore. Even in the darkness, the night vision in his binoculars let him make out the name on its hull: KARAKORUM. K-A-R-A-K-O-R-U-M. No doubt about it, this was the rusting ship he had been waiting for.
A few days earlier, he and Alfred had intercepted a phone call between two mobsters, Dutch Galante and Jimmy Kaplan. Galante was a seasoned smuggler who had fallen from grace after 1942 for working too closely with the slick fixers tied to Gotham's Italian Fascist spies. But now he was back, shielded by some kind of unusual police protection. That protection came from Jimmy Kaplan, a Metropolis mobster who had settled in Gotham in 1940 to evade prosecution. Kaplan was elusive, politically well connected, and the owner of one of the most successful nightclubs in the city. He had taken over much of the old Intergang's business in Gotham from Carmine Polito and the others. But he stayed away from John Corben's former business
Alfred had a theory: Kaplan was simply holding together Polito's and the Penguin's operations while they sat in prison, relying on his connections and his endless gift for talk. For the first time, Batman thought he might finally have a chance to bring Kaplan down. The two mobsters had discussed the freighter, its arrival time, the lack of guards, and the cargo on board: "white veal", a grotesque code for women trafficked into prostitution, usually refugees fleeing Europe, and "marbles," meaning guns. If he could disrupt the landing and force the police to intervene, it would be a major blow. At the very least, they could arrest Galante.
A strong breeze blew behind him.
"Good night, Bruce."
"Don't call me Bruce when we're in the field. We are Batman and Superwoman."
"Mr. Bat, if you only knew how much I dislike the name Superwoman..."
Superwoman flirtatiously wiggled her red cape and kissed Batman on the cheek, who growled.
"This is very serious, Superwoman, we can expose the Harbor Patrol and take down two very important gangsters. I know everything but earthquakes and aliens is easy for you, but there are kidnapped women on that ship... And weapons that are likely to be used by the Mafia for more sinister purposes."
Superwoman sighed.
"Batman, I just enjoy doing operations together, and I don't think this one will be difficult."
Batman laid out the plan to Superwoman: the two of them would move in as soon as Galante's men arrived. Superwoman would cover Batman while he boarded the ship and freed the kidnapped women. Then they would hold the scene until the police arrived, hand over the women and the captured henchmen, and expose the shipment of weapons.
The freighter was still quietly docked and there was a little more movement. Three cars with their lights off pulled up next to the freighter and about ten-armed men got out. Clara and Bruce's hearts skipped a beat when they saw that there were three men in army uniforms among them.
"What the hell is going on?"
"I don't understand."
Superwoman sensed that something wasn't quite right. She sharpened her super-hearing.
"Lieutenant Bentham?"
"Are you Maldini?"
"Yes, I'm your contact."
"All right, we don't want to be here a second longer than we have to. There are five boxes of papers and two sealed crates. Get them out of here now. We're not getting dragged into anything else. The truck'll be here in ten minutes."
"The agreement was that you would hold off the port police for four hours so we could get our cargo down."
"It has been one hour. Give the order to unload our cargo immediately."
"Batman, these military men are here to pick up a shipment... I don't understand."
"I do understand. Smuggling. Or a certain general wants to hide something from the rest of the army."
"I'm going to zoom in quickly to see if there really are people being held hostage inside..." Superwoman said with determination.
"We're going to act anyway; the police must intervene."
Flying at superspeed, Clara made several passes with her x-ray vision, undetected by the freighter crew or the henchmen. The cargo included cotton, radios, scrap metal... But she also saw a group of fifteen women locked in a bunk room talking to each other in Polish. She detected the armed men inspecting five large crates of papers and two crates sealed with lead... Great Scott! Lead, lead again! Clara feared that the two sealed boxes were sealed with lead to prevent her from seeing what was inside. She hurried back to Batman.
"Bruce you were right, there are kidnapped women inside. I think they are Polish. I haven't seen any signs of weapons, but there are some sealed lead boxes that I find disturbing."
"Superwoman, we must go in."
"We'll wait for the ship's crane to remove the lead boxes first."
"Okay."
The wait took forever. Soon the crane lifted seven large crates, which Superwoman identified as the ones filled with papers and the two lead boxes.
"Well, here we go, Clara."
Superwoman smiled, "We agreed no names, right?"
Batman landed on the roof of a black Studebaker. Before the startled gunmen could bring their submachine guns to bear, he was already moving, driving punches and kicks into them and knocking them to the ground. He slipped past the three soldiers, but they opened fire anyway. Batman ducked as the bullets tore across the dock, only for them to ricochet harmlessly off Superwoman's chest. Moving at super-speed, she crossed the dock in an instant and tore the weapons from every man's hands.
"Damn it! Damn it! Let's get out of here! We need to call the General now!" A soldier howled.
The three military men ran into a car as Batman cut down the rest of the henchmen, but Superwoman lifted the car over her head and brought it back down while carefully ripping off the wheels.
"You shouldn't have come tonight; you'll stay here until you can explain to the police what you were doing in such bad company. Excuse me for making sure you stay with us."
Superwoman tore the car door off and, under the astonished gaze of the three soldiers, twisted it into three metal bars. Using her superhuman strength, she bent the bars around the men and bound them in place. Deep down, she was frightened and already dreading the consequences of what had just happened… officers working with mobsters!
Batman leapt onto the ship, moving swiftly through the chaos like a shadow as the crew opened fire with rifles and submachine guns. Bullets tore past him, but he stayed one step ahead, dodging with precise, fluid movements. Without hesitation, Superwoman swept her bright red cape around herself and stepped in to shield Bruce as the bullets ricocheted harmlessly off her body. Together, they made their way below deck to the hold where the kidnapped women were being kept. Inside, the women were crying in fear and confusion. Batman and Superwoman quickly forced the door open and stepped inside to reassure them. "You're safe now," Superwoman told them gently, while Batman ushered them out, keeping a close watch on their surroundings.
Meanwhile, the remaining crewmen and henchmen, those who were not injured or already tied up, either jumped into the water to escape or fled across the harbor and vanished into the night. Up on deck, the crane operator had disappeared, and the loading platform was swaying slightly. Two of the boxes of papers had fallen. One had crashed into the water, and its contents, now soaked and unreadable, floated in a spreading mess. Another had burst open on deck, scattering papers in every direction. Superwoman snatched several sheets out of the air. They were documents in German: calculations, blueprints of strange machines, copies of symbols and fragments of writing that Clara immediately recognized as Kryptonian. Her heart skipped a beat. There were also black-and-white photographs of strange stone blocks and archaeological excavations, rusted machinery, and two empty pods that were unmistakably Kryptonian. Every page was stamped with the Nazi emblem and dated 1942 or 1943. "Bruce, please pick up all the papers you can." What the hell is this!
Superwoman lifted off gently and drifted toward the remaining boxes. There they were: the lead-lined crates. Her heart was racing, but she also felt a strange headache coming on, along with a wave of dizziness. She knew that sensation all too well; the unbearable heat, the overwhelming nausea, the urge to vomit. It couldn't be. With mounting dread, she approached one of the lead crates and lowered it onto the deck. Her heart was pounding. Then she opened it.
At once, her hands and face felt as though they were burning, and she dropped to all fours, coughing violently. It was kryptonite: a hideous green metallic powder. At least a ton of it.
Bruce rushed over to her.
"Clara, what's wrong? What's wrong with you?"
"It's kryptonite", Superwoman said, coughing and convulsing.
Superwoman managed to pull herself upright, stagger over to the metal crate, and strike it with a punch. The box flew into the water, and a cloud of greenish dust scattered across the surface of the harbor. In the distance, police sirens began to wail as patrol cars rolled into the docks.
"Let's get out of here, Bruce. Please."
Superwoman forced herself back to her feet, flew to the crane, and seized the other lead-lined crate. She could barely hold it. With all the strength she had left, she hurled it far out to sea and saw it burst apart on impact, leaving a strange green trail across the water. Then the Maid of Might collapsed onto the deck and crashed through several levels of the ship, nearly unconscious, until she punched through the hull at the bottom. Water began pouring in as Superwoman drifted beneath the vessel, on the verge of blacking out.
Bruce shouted into the hole her fall had torn through the ship, but there was no time. The gangway was down, and the vessel was listing dangerously. He dragged the wounded and handcuffed crewmen and henchmen, along with the refugee women, onto the ship's bridge. The police had already arrived and were shouting from every direction as flashlights swept across the ship. The ship's tilt had sent the other boxes of papers crashing across the deck, into the water, and onto the dock. Loose pages were flying everywhere. Batman was sweating now, sick with fear for Clara. He might be arrested this time, it could be the end of Batman. But Clara? She was hurt, perhaps badly hurt. How was he supposed to save her?
Then, suddenly, the ship righted itself slightly, and some immense force shoved it back against the dock. A red-and-blue blur appeared and pulled the gangway back into place…
Bruce smiled; Superwoman was all right. The Dark Knight invited the women to follow him to the gangway, which was already occupied by the police. As the police silently pointed their guns at him, Bruce raised his arms and calmly walked toward a young officer he knew, John Blake.
"Officer Blake, these fifteen women were being held hostage on this boat. I believe it is in your best interest to speak with them."
The fifteen women shivered and looked around in confusion.
"Why are there three army officers tied up?" the policeman asked.
"I think you must talk to them; seems they were interested in the shipment. A lot of the people we captured will be of interest to you, and I'm sure they are in your files."
The cops looked around in confusion. Then, Superwoman landed gently. She was soaking wet, her face flushed and red, and she was carrying reams of papers.
"Good evening, gentlemen... I think you should take care of the welfare of these ladies and of these criminals we captured while we... uh... go."
Superwoman grabbed Batman by the waist and flew off into the night.
Officer Blake looked out at the half-submerged ship, the swirls of paper, the women wrapped in blankets and the handcuffed crewmen and henchmen. These nights are the worst.
Superwoman flew with difficulty; she couldn't fly very fast. She was coughing and kept feeling that dizziness and that burning sensation in her face and hands. In one arm she carried a pile of papers she'd picked up from the ship, though she didn't know if they made any sense, and in the other she held a silent Batman.
They landed at a waterfall and entered the Batcave. There, Superwoman fell to her knees and began coughing again.
"Clara…"
"It was Kryptonite, Bruce, at least two tons, how dreadful."
Bruce picked up the papers and started going through them.
"Please rest, sleep a few hours and we'll go over the papers in the morning."
"I must get back to my hotel, I have an 8 a.m. train to Metropolis."
"You need to rest, Clara."
Alfred appeared with a blanket and a box of medicine.
"Miss Kent, we've been through this before, please rest and take this."
"I was only exposed for a few seconds. I'll be fully recovered in a few hours. I need to go to my hotel and rest. Jimmy can be suspicious."
Before the Bat and Alfred could say anything, Superwoman disappeared.
***
Jimmy read the newspaper on the train while Clara leaned against the window and tried to doze off.
"You look very bad Clara, are you feeling well?"
"I had an allergy attack last night, I didn't sleep, and I coughed a lot."
Clara adjusted her glasses and sighed. She was still exhausted and a bit dizzy. Exposure to kryptonite for only a few seconds had done that to her. But where did the two tons of kryptonite powder come from? What did the Nazis have to do with it? Why was the military trying to smuggle it in on a Mafia freighter? Did it have anything to do with the Rand Corporation? She would arrive in Metropolis, deliver the article to Louis or Cat Grant, and go home to rest and sleep for a few hours. If only the world wasn't in danger during that time! Then she would meet with Bruce to try to understand what had happened the night before.
"Can I borrow the paper, Jimmy?"
"Sure."
Clara anxiously checked the Gotham Tribune for any reference to last night and soon found it.
LAST REPORT OF A MAJOR RAID AGAINST SMUGGLING: In the early hours of this morning, Gotham police arrested a total of twenty-five people in an anti-smuggling raid from Europe that began with a shooting in the harbor. Police freed fifteen Polish refugee women who were believed to have fallen into a trafficking ring. Half of those arrested were crew members of a Finnish-flagged freighter that sailed from Norway, and the other half are believed to be members of Gotham organized crime. No further information has been released at this time, but it is the largest bust in Gotham Harbor since Prohibition. The freighter was damaged by the crew itself and now lies half sunk in the southern docks.
Great Scott! No mention of Superwoman or Batman! And no mention of the presence of three military men. Clara worriedly wondered what was going on and if Luthor had anything to do with it.
Her memory flashed back to the first time she had confronted Luthor, shortly after defeating Zod, when he had used mercenaries and even murdered people to steal wreckage from Kryptonian ships. The Maid of Might burst into his office, threatening him. Luthor was genuinely frightened, but as usual, she had no evidence to bring him to justice. She could feel the fear and hatred in the billionaire, and how the latter overcame the former as Luthor regained his composure and sneered at her.
***
Lex Luthor was reviewing some test reports on some special metals for aerospace technology when his secretary, Mercy Graves, entered his office with a worried look on her face.
Mercy Graves had been his secretary, and Nikola Tesla's before that, since the founding of TELCORP. Tesla had ruined himself once again, but he was still ablaze with vast, visionary ideas, and Luthor found them irresistible. It was 1911. Newly married and still teaching at Arkham University, he nonetheless chose to follow his mentor. They began with scarcely a dozen employees, all of them engineers, physicists, and mathematicians Tesla had drawn from various universities, some of them barely known. Mercy was hired almost by accident. She was little more than a girl, the daughter of a butler: quiet, efficient, and deeply loyal. Luthor felt a genuine affection for her and trusted her absolutely. And yet, at times, her very presence troubled him, for she reminded him of Tesla's death, a death he himself had wrought.
"Mr. Luthor, you have a call on the secure line. It's General Hardy. He says it's urgent."
Luthor gave nothing away as he rose to his feet, though inwardly he was cursing Hardy, an extremist and a thoroughly incompetent soldier. What had gone wrong now?
He stepped into a soundproofed, padded room containing a private telephone line that operated outside the normal network. Beside the phone was a detector that indicated whether the caller's line was being tapped; when that happened, the light flashed red. Now it was blinking green. The line was secure.
Luthor sat down and picked up the receiver.
"Hardy? Luthor speaking."
"How are you, Luthor? I'm sorry to bother you, but we have a small problem that could seriously affect us."
"A small problem that could seriously affect us? What happened?"
"I hardly know where to begin."
"General, get to the point. Tell me what the problem is, and then explain how it happened, if you dare."
"We attempted to bring in two tons of refined kryptonite, along with documentation relating to German experiments and research on Kryptonians and antediluvian civilizations. We used Baroness von Gunther to put us in touch with former Abwehr, Ahnenerbe, and SS agents who had hidden both the files and the kryptonite in Denmark. From there, we moved it through Norway and brought it in illegally aboard a freighter. We wanted to avoid reporting it to the OSS or the Department of Defense, in case they interfered with the operation. The landing went badly. Superwoman and Batman struck during the unloading and destroyed the shipment."
Luthor did not move a muscle as he absorbed the information. The silence on the line began to unsettle General Hardy.
"Luthor?"
"I'm here. Are you going to tell me exactly what happened?"
"Luthor, the material mostly confirmed what we already knew about excavations of antediluvian ruins and alien remains in the Urals, Argentina, and Antarctica. Baroness von Gunther managed to locate a fugitive SS officer in Switzerland and recover both the kryptonite and the files. There were roughly a hundred thousand pages: excavation reports, experimental records, and what appears to be a highly effective method for extracting kryptonite from metals that contain trace amounts of it, far superior to our own. The scientists responsible are either dead or in Soviet hands."
"Why was I not informed?"
"It was a strictly military operation. We wanted to avoid leaks or complications until the shipment was safely in our possession. Only Mr. Lord knew."
Stupid, incompetent bastards. A bead of sweat slid down Luthor's forehead.
"Why did Mr. Lord know?"
"He was the one who pressured the Baroness. He's really the architect of the operation to recover both the files and the kryptonite… and he was also the one who secured the freighter through, uh… his contacts."
"What contacts?"
"Smugglers."
Luthor allowed himself the faintest nervous smile. He had not expected to get his hands on both the kryptonite and the Nazi files. He had known something was out there, but had assumed it was either in Soviet hands or locked away somewhere else within the government. Instead, General Hardy and Maxwell Lord had just placed themselves squarely in his hands.
"Did you really think a couple of smugglers was the proper solution to something this important?" Luthor said, enunciating every word.
"I don't believe there will be any negative consequences for us."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Three officers under my command were subdued by Superwoman and arrested by the police, but I managed to have them released."
"What a disaster, Hardy. What an absolute disaster. Everything we were doing was on the verge of being exposed. You have no idea what you've done. I'm resigning from the Rand Corporation and from our task force."
"Please, Luthor, we need to discuss this in person." Hardy sounded anguished.
"Yes, we do need to discuss this in person. But unless we adopt a far stricter line, act directly and swiftly against our dear caped friends, and put an end to these idiotic conspiracies with former Nazis, I will report the facts directly to the President, though not before setting off an earthquake among the scientific teams."
Hardy gasped on the other end of the line.
I've got them now, Luthor thought with a smile.
Metropolis, Planet Building
Superwoman zipped through the window into a deserted room in the Planet Building at breakneck speed, clutching a bag containing an evening gown she had just rented from Bellvue, her favorite store. As Clara Kent, she had been on her way back after picking up the dress when an urgent situation forced her to transform into Superwoman. Saving two children from being hit by a locomotive while trying to retrieve a ball from the subway tracks. Hearing their cries, she quickly ducked behind a car, stripping off her everyday clothes and glasses in an instant. A couple of seconds later, a stunning blue-eyed brunette, clad in blue tights and a red cape, swooped in to rescue the children. The kids stared in awe at their beloved hero, the Maid of Might, Superwoman.
"What do you think you were doing?"
"We... we're sorry... We dropped the ball."
"You could have been killed. I ought to take you home to your parents and have them ground you. You could have died for a ball."
The children trembled, but the woman in the red cape softened her expression and stroked their hair.
"I'm very angry, but I'm not going to tell on you. And don't ever step onto a subway track again... unless you have super-speed."
She winked and disappeared. As she flew over Metropolis, Clara sighed. "I'm feeling weaker, slower, and sleepier... Today I needed six hours of sleep, when I usually need only one or two... Just a few minutes of exposure to that kryptonite dust, and I've been dealing with a week's worth of aftereffects."
Now Superwoman pulled out the evening gown she had rented. She didn't have the money to buy it, but she could afford to rent it for one night. Clara would never let Louis or Bruce give her something like this as a gift. It was a very dark navy-blue satin dress, with a generous neckline and very short sleeves. It was a little daring for her taste, but she wanted to look pretty... and to show it off to Louis.
Now it was time to hide the Superwoman costume and cape under the dress. Even though the cape was long, and the tights and boots covered her entire body up to the chest, they were remarkably thin and easy to fold. Normally it was very easy to hide them under her stockings and ordinary office clothes, but with an evening gown it was more difficult, because her neckline would be exposed and her arms bare. She had to fold up the boots and hide them in her purse. The rest of the suit and cape had to be folded over and over and wrapped around her stomach. It barely showed. The dress was not too tight, and the folds of the satin concealed it well. It didn't even look as though she were wearing a girdle. Clara always preferred to wear the Superwoman costume under her clothes; she liked to have it ready at hand, and if she kept it in her purse, someone might discover it.
Clara took her time putting her hair up in an elaborate style, applying her makeup, and putting on her new glasses. She had decided to replace her old "schoolteacher" glasses with a more elegant and modern frame. The earrings Louis had given her were downstairs in the office they shared.
Louis was smoking as he finished an article about Morgan Edge's legal team and their curious political and business connections. He had decided to go after the Manhattan County District Attorney, even if, as far as Superwoman was concerned, they were on the same side. Louis smelled foul play all around Edge. He was engrossed in his work when he heard Clara's familiar voice clearing her throat.
Louis looked up, surprised, and couldn't help smiling in admiration as he saw Clara Kent, his fellow reporter, walk in wearing a very elegant and daring navy-blue evening gown. Clara looked radiant, with her new glasses... The dress accentuated every curve. Louis felt a little dizzy and embarrassed as a rush of desire went through him while he looked at her. She smiled at him with her deep blue eyes, and Louis fixed his attention on them so as not to look at her cleavage.
"Well, Louis... What do you think?"
"You look beautiful, Clara."
Clara turned around and lifted her skirt in a balletic gesture.
"Where did you get it?"
"From Bellvue. Rented."
"Had I known, it would have been my gift to you."
"Oh, don't be silly, Louis."
"It really suits you."
Clara sat down at her desk and put on the small pearl earrings Louis had given her.
"I'm going to wear the earrings you gave me."
"Clara, this is about interviewing Luthor, not winning him over."
Clara smiled coyly at him. "You know I strongly dislike Luthor, Louis."
"He's not exactly a close friend of mine. But Luthor strikes me as a dangerous man. We shouldn't get too close to him... Be pleasant and discreet, and if you can play dumb, so much the better."
I know exactly who Luthor is, my dear Louis.
"I don't have to play dumb to do my job."
"Sometimes, when you interview people, you interrogate them and bite harder than you should. Doing that with Luthor could be dangerous. Better not to end up in his crosshairs. Be very careful."
Oh, Louis, you're telling me to be careful, but I've had to save your life six times. Six.
"Well, Louis, don't worry. I'll try not to scare or upset Luthor."
Louis walked over to her. Clara gave him a flirtatious look and discreetly thrust out her chest. How I adore this fool.
"I'd love to come with you, but I want to get home in time to be with my daughter, and tomorrow I'm leaving with Dewey's campaign team."
"I'll miss you, but I can manage on my own, Whiskers."
Louis laughed. Whiskers had been Clara's first nickname for him.
Clara was happy to see him laugh, and to notice the desire and interest in his eyes. For a few seconds, she forgot the disturbing news Bruce had given her. The papers they had recovered from the freighter made little sense on their own; they were only disjointed fragments of larger works. But after studying them carefully with Lucius Fox, it had become clear that the Nazis had discovered ruins in Patagonia, the Urals, Lapland, and Antarctica, where they had found Kryptonian remains dating back to those prehistoric visits and that coexistence with humanity Kelex had told her about. They had also conducted experiments with kryptonite. It was clear that the Army was trying to recover the full results of those investigations and experiments... and that Luthor and the Rand Corporation were almost certainly involved.
Louis turned on the radio.
And now, dear listeners, that truly magnificent performance by the incomparable Vera Lynn will surely stir recent memories in many hearts… Memories of those long days of waiting, those endless moments of uncertainty endured by loved ones back home during the pivotal war we all knew had to be won. But beyond the heartache and the worry, this song brought hope, hope for those brave souls on the front lines, dreaming of the day when peace would be restored, and they could once again return to the arms of those they cherish. A dream that, for so many, kept them moving forward.
"I loved this song Clara, we heard it a lot in the front, and when we entered Paris. It brings back so many memories... Those were horrible moments but at the same time I have a certain nostalgia." Louis said tenderly.
And I will just say hello
To the folks that you know
Tell them you won't be long
They'll be happy to know
That as I saw you go
You were singing this song
Clara also remembered that hopeful and optimistic song, playing all the time on the beaches of Guadalcanal, in the Field Hospital, in New Guinea. How tears came to her eyes when she listened to it with her nurse's uniform stained with mud and blood under the rain.
"It's a wonderful song... Shall we dance?" Clara invited Louis with a questioning smile.
We'll meet again
Don't know where
Don't know when
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day
They danced together in each other's arms. Louis kept his head high and his face expressionless, as always when he wanted to repress his instincts. Clara squeezed him tightly… When all this will be over? When we will be together?
"Clara, as soon as the elections are over everything will be clear."
Keep smiling through
Just like you always do
'Til the blue skies chase those dark clouds far away
"Louis, my dear, sometimes there's no need to talk, shut up," They kept on dancing.
We'll meet again
Don't know where
Don't know when
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day
"I would have loved to meet you in the war Clara, I don't know if it sounds frivolous, I would have loved to."
"What a stereotypical movie Louis... The small town nurse and the wealthy young war hero," Clara replied provocatively.
"With you around, everything would have been more bearable."
"For me too..."
When the song ended Louis offered to call her a taxi and hurried away, telling himself for the umpteenth time that all would be clear soon.
On the way to the Ritz-Carlton, Clara found herself transported back to a pivotal moment early in her relationship with Louis, an argument that had made her realize the depth of her feelings for him, and hinted that he might feel the same. That moment had taken place during another event at the very same hotel: the Planet Gala. Clara had been seated at a different table, alongside the chief telephonist and her spouse, a few young sports and cinema reporters, Jimmy, and Lucy, who had eagerly left the presidential table to join them.
Throughout the evening, Clara's gaze had frequently wandered toward Louis and his wife. Pat Lane, dressed in a stunning white gown, looked every bit the picture of elegance and refinement. A sharp contrast to Clara's cheap pearl-gray dress, chosen specifically to conceal her muscular frame. To Clara, Pat was the epitome of grace and sophistication.
"Louis' wife is gorgeous, Lucy. She looks like a doll," Clara had whispered.
"A poisonous doll, Clara," Lucy had replied sharply. "Don't get between them. They may seem to hate each other, but their marriage is unbreakable. Besides, they're Catholics." Clara had been taken aback by Lucy's harsh words, stung and offended.
Later that evening, Louis had approached her and asked her to dance. As the orchestra played modern arrangements of tunes from the early '30s, Clara was flooded with memories of dancing in the kitchen with her father, especially to "My Silent Love." That familiar melody, paired with Louis' presence, stirred something deep within her, unearthing emotions she had long kept buried.
Despite her tumultuous feelings, Clara found herself dancing with Louis in full view of everyone. A storm of emotions swirled inside her: confusion over whether she felt jealousy, desire, or simply frustration, and whether Louis was being insincere. The question burned on her tongue before she could stop it. "Are you dancing with me just to make your wife jealous?" she asked sharply, her voice edged with accusation. Louis responded by seizing her wrists. She let him hold them, though his grip barely registered. He was no match for her. Leaning close to her ear, his voice low but cutting, he whispered, "You're a bitter little provincial. How could you think something so cruel?"
Without waiting for her reply, Louis left the ballroom abruptly, leaving Clara standing there with her heart pounding. Overwhelmed, she fled to the bathroom, her vision blurred with tears. Struggling to compose herself, she slipped out of her evening dress and into her Superwoman suit. Without a second thought, she flew through the window, disappearing into the night, far from everyone and everything. For the next week at the office, silence hung heavily between them. Louis would not even look in her direction, and the unspoken tension lingered like a shadow over every moment they spent in the same room.
Back in the present, the party at the Ritz-Carlton seemed rather dreadful and boring to Clara. She had been invited by the Tesla Foundation itself. She knew almost no one. She recognized a face here and there from the business world or politics, but that crowd had never much interested her, and the names escaped her. The room was thick with reporters, too. Clara found herself lamenting that, beyond the Daily Planet, she hardly knew a soul in her own trade. There was the mayor, Mason Norris; his opponent; the famous Admiral Strauss, who was openly hostile to Superwoman; people from both parties... and also Perry Weiss and Cat Grant, though they were far away, surrounded by important guests. Clara did not approach them, out of a mixture of shyness and laziness.
With her super-hearing, she noticed that her dress and figure were causing a sensation among the men, and a few of them had approached her to make conversation, but she had managed to scare them off by being dull or unfriendly. Finally, she spotted Luthor, deep in animated conversation with a group of ladies. Clara pricked up her ears and listened as he spoke to them about Native American myths and legends.
Clara approached discreetly. Now standing just behind Luthor, she took a deep breath. She had faced that short, bald, thin man with the icy stare many times before, but always as Superwoman, wearing her red cape, not simply as Clara Kent.
Luthor turned and looked at her with polite interest.
"Miss?"
"Mr. Luthor, I'm from the Daily Planet. Clara..."
Luthor cut her off, the look of sympathy turned to surprise and masked anger.
"Are you Miss Kent?"
"A pleasure, Mr. Luthor."
"I believe we've never met before."
"Not in person."
"Are you having a good time?"
"I'm not used to these kinds of parties."
"They're not my favorite, Miss Kent, but unfortunately, we must entertain certain people, so they'll give us some money for the people who really need our help."
"I have nothing against entertainment or philanthropy."
"But you do object to the defense industry."
"No, Mr. Luthor, I just think the public should be at least minimally informed about what the government is doing with big business and taxpayer money, and the governed should be able to demand that minimum standards be met."
"I deeply regret that war is not democratic, not even war in defense of democracy."
"I don't want to discuss politics; you wanted to be interviewed."
"And I am here to answer all your questions. I'm not even going to ask you who told you about our test site in Nevada."
"Do you have alien technology in Nevada?"
"Honestly, Miss Kent... Don't you want a friendly dialogue before we get into it? Anyone ever tell you look a little bit like Gene Tierney?"
The two ladies accompanying Luthor laughed. Clara felt she had burned through her cartridges too quickly. Luthor walked up to her and grabbed her arm with nice manners.
"Miss Kent let's take a step back and apologize for the manners. No offense. I'm not a big fan of journalists, that's my fault. I don't fully understand their methods and etiquette, but they do a great job. Every time the fourth power is more and more important. I'm glad it is that way."
Clara thought it was all a false and rehearsed speech.
"Mr. Luthor, I'd like to impress upon you..."
"Miss Kent, of course we're working with alien technology, but only with the few things Superwoman didn't destroy from her Kryptonian relatives in the '46 invasion, and we're authorized by Congress. The President himself has publicly criticized Superwoman for destroying all the technology the invaders left behind and throw it into space. But our core business is military aviation, as we stated in the press release. That's no secret. Tell me, are you afraid of the Kryptonians?"
"No, Mr. Luthor. What do you think about the accusations of witch-hunting within the Rand Corporation?"
"In none of the teams or companies where I have decision-making power is anyone bothered about their present or past political ideas. As long as they are not openly defending dictatorships and murderers. But in the military, they are very nervous about the communist threat. We scientists and businessmen do not understand the threats and security risks as well as they do. Let them work, everything is protected by laws and courts".
"What laws, Mr. Luthor?"
"I am not a lawyer, Miss Kent, but I believe that if someone were to be unlawfully persecuted for their ideas, no court in a free country would allow it."
Luthor's smile was almost mocking, he seemed to be saying all this with an ironic tone that made Clara uncomfortable.
"Mr. Luthor..."
"Were you in the war, Miss Kent, were you a war correspondent?"
"No, I was a nurse, in the Pacific."
"Well, you're able to understand what a horror it was. We are just working to have the technology to prevent that kind of war. Good deterrent and defense technology. The worst armed peace will be better than the most beneficial war. And then we have the planetary threat…We have already been visited by hostile aliens, and we have a super powerful host who has absolute power over our lives. Tell me, are you working with Louis Lane?"
Clara was startled by the question. Her heartbeat quickened considerably. She knew that Luthor knew about the connection between Superwoman and Louis Lane in the past... Luthor had even kidnapped him once to force Superwoman to fight Metallo. She decided to lie.
"I don't know him very well; he works in another department in the paper."
"Read again his articles. I don't know if you share the same political views, but Mr. Lane makes the best critique of the dangers of sacralizing Superwoman. Absolutely brilliant, and believe me I don't share his conservative political positions. If you talk to Mr. Lane, tell him that I am a reader of his and that I send him my best regards. He recently quoted Lord Acton: "Absolute power corrupts absolutely". Please mention my interest in that phrase. We at the Rand Corporation and TELCORP are working to develop technology that will prevent anyone, human or otherwise, from having absolute power."
"Do Nazi scientists work at the Rand Corporation?"
"The government has already acknowledged that de-Nazified scientists are working with the country's technological efforts. But I am not aware of this at the Rand Corporation."
"Do you know Baroness von Gunther and Bruno Mannheim?"
"Baroness von Gunther is not and has never been a Nazi, she is a conservative Catholic Austrian monarchist...very similar to Louis Lane, Miss Kent, she was a passive resister against the Nazis. We can't ask everybody to be a hero. The other one, I don't know who he is."
"My sources don't agree with you."
"Then I suggest you check those sources again. One shouldn't go casting doubt on a person's reputation over idle rumor. That isn't good journalism, Miss Kent. There's a great deal of personal resentment out there poisoning the honest work of honest people."
Clara had the distinct impression Luthor was mocking her. "Then tell me, Mr. Luthor. What precautions do you take when working with this alien technology? Aren't you afraid of causing some sort of disaster? And what say does the American public have in what goes on behind your doors?"
"Believe it or not, Miss Kent, our scientists are rather fond of staying alive. And there are committees on defense and on alien affairs in both the House and the Senate. They've paid us several visits."
"And where are the records and findings of those visits?"
"Would you have us mail the blueprints of our military secrets to Stalin? Or to the aliens, perhaps?"
Luthor's smile had grown weary; he looked almost ready to break a sweat. A palpable animosity seeped through the millionaire's cold gaze, which never quite managed to be jovial.
"Mr. Luthor... is your company building technology to use against Superwoman?"
"We build deterrents against any potential enemy, whoever they may be. I don't imagine anyone nowadays would care to lay a finger on the Lady in Red… but I'd ask you to remember the invasion of '46. We must be prepared. And now I'm afraid I must be going. It's been a pleasure, Miss Kent. You're a remarkably observant and level-headed woman. We need more newspaperwomen like you."
To Clara's astonishment, Luthor shook her hand and melted back into the crowd that filled the reception hall.
***
Mercy Graves probably knew and understood Lex Luthor better than anyone else, better even than his wife, whom Luthor adored and was fully loyal to. That's why she was unsettled when she saw Luthor come through the crowd and the party with a look that she knew meant rage and excitement close to madness.
Luthor brought his mouth close to her ear.
"Mercy, I need you to go immediately to the Secure Phone Line at my offices. Talk to Captain Hendricks or Melvin Faisst, try to reach them. Tell them we have a security problem, call it that, with a few reporters. Ask them to get the intelligence reports or military service record of Clara Kent and Louis Lane within 24 hours. And not to talk to General Hardy, which is a direct claim of mine and the President. Give them the password Ahssenbach."
Luthor withdrew as soon as he had given her the order and stepped into a congratulatory crowd.