The Death and Life of Superman (39 page)

“Valid objections to be sure.” Rodrigues stopped and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his long nose. “The odds against success would be monumental—but not necessarily insurmountable! A facsimile of Superman’s psyche could conceivably be simulated by recording the mental impressions that Dubbilex absorbed from him in previous encounters.”

Dubbilex stepped back, at first startled by the suggestion. He frowned and then began to look distant, as if searching through his mind for a misplaced memory. “He . . . he has a point, Jim. I’m a walking example of Project science gone awry, but I consider my life a most precious gift. I do carry certain psychic impressions in my subconscious. There
is
a possibility of success here, however slim.”

The Guardian threw up his hands. “All right. I still think you all ought to have your heads examined, but I guess maybe we do owe it to Superman—and to the world—to at least try.”

“You’ll see.” Westfield rubbed his neck as he attempted to regain his composure. “I have the greatest confidence that we’ll succeed—!”

“Not so fast, Westfield!” The Guardian glowered down at the administrator. “If there’s to be an ‘Operation Superman,’
you
are not going to be in charge of it! I want this run strictly by the book from here on—under the direct supervision of Drs. Tompkins, Johnson, and Rodrigues!” He nodded to the three men who, of the five department heads, were the most directly involved with research.

“Very well, if that’s the way it must be.” Westfield bristled at the thought of caving in under such humiliating circumstances, but at this point he was willing to make just about any compromises necessary to get the operation under way.
There’ll be plenty of time to regain control, once things are up and running.

Westfield turned to the man closest to the examination table. “Well, Dr. Packard, you heard the Guardian; it’s in their hands now!”

Carl Packard stepped away from the body, pulling down his surgical mask. “I wish you luck, gentlemen. You’ll need it, if you’re hoping to obtain significant tissue samples.”

“Oh?” Dr. Tompkins was already moving forward to inspect what had been done. “And why is that, Carl?”

“It appears that, even in death, Superman’s body is still quite thoroughly invulnerable!” Packard held up a scalpel for all to see. The instrument’s blade was bent nearly double.

Several hundred feet under Metropolis, Captain Sawyer and Inspector Turpin stuck close to Dr. Happersen and Lex Luthor as they all followed Supergirl down the unexplored branch of the cave system. The cavern was beginning to narrow when they came to an abrupt dead end.

“Are you sure this is the right way, love?”

“Well, it’s the only branch we haven’t explored, Lex.” Supergirl grasped a huge fallen stalactite and heaved it out of her way. “I have to admit, I didn’t expect this much rubble, but it all appears to be newly fallen!”

“I agree, Supergirl.” Happersen moved ahead to join her, pausing every few feet to wave a probe device through the musty air. “My equipment’s detecting minute airborne traces of explosive residue. Someone was trying to cover the trail, and they succeeded admirably, I’m afraid. We’re so far underground, I doubt that anyone would have heard the blasts from outside in the park.”

Supergirl sank her hands deep into the wall of rubble and yanked aside another huge section of rock. Happersen stopped in midcalculation, a horrified look on his face.

“Supergirl, stop! Just a moment, please!” The doctor punched up a series of numbers on his hand-held apparatus. “Yes—according to my readings, we’re actually below the northwest fork of the Hob’s River at this point. We must proceed with all due caution.”

“Oh, don’t be such a worrywart, Dr. Happersen! I’ll be careful!”

“Just the same, love, it wouldn’t hurt to exercise a bit of restraint.” Luthor stepped ahead of Supergirl to peer down the hole she had opened. The light of his flash caught the glimmer of a small metal disc with stenciled markings just a few yards away. “Happersen, what do you make of this?”

“Good Lord. That . . . that looks like some kind of unexploded charge!”

“What?!” Supergirl grabbed Luthor and Happersen by their coats and flung them backward, nearly bowling over Sawyer and Turpin in the process. The next moment, the chamber was rocked by a bone-rattling explosion. Massive sections of rock and showers of dirt poured down upon Supergirl, but almost magically, the debris traveled no further up the cave. After a few seconds, the Girl of Steel backed out of the rubble. There wasn’t so much as a speck of dust on her.

“Is everyone all right? I extended my energy shield as quickly as I could, but I’ve never tried to protect so many people before.”

Luthor took Supergirl by the arm. “You did just fine, love. Happersen—?”

“F-fine, sir. Just a little shaken.”

“Dangdest thing I ever saw.” Turpin tipped his hat back and scratched his head. “What’s wrong, Maggie? You’ve got that funny look on your kisser.”

“Wrong?” Sawyer frowned. “I don’t know, Dan. I just got this sudden feeling . . . does anyone else hear something?”

Everyone grew still. There it was—a faraway sound, but building. It was a rushing noise.

“Omigod,” gasped Happersen. “The river—!”

Somehow, Supergirl scooped up all four of them—grabbing Luthor and Happersen bodily and lifting the other two along with her psychokinesis. She rocketed them back up the branch of the cave as a wall of water came surging through the rubble. Rock and debris were washed aside as the torrent swept after them.

Not until they reached the shaft leading to the crypt did Supergirl pause or look back. “Go! Up—quickly! The flood seems to have slowed, but let’s not take any chances!”

Onward they ran, the sound of lapping water echoing after them. The flood crested a third of the way up the shaft, but they didn’t stop until they’d reached the crypt.

Officer Ramirez, still on guard, came instantly alert as the five explorers ran stumbling into the crypt. “What’s going on? Why the rush?”

“Just tryin’ to keep from gettin’ waterlogged, Rami.” Turpin leaned back against the wall, gasping for breath. Improbably, he’d managed to hang onto his hat, and now he tipped it to Supergirl. “You do good work, li’l lady. That’s a fact.”
An’ if I ever hear that this young pup Luthor ain’t treatin’ her right, I’ll personally kick his behind till his nose bleeds!

“Thanks, Inspector. I just wish things had turned out better.” Supergirl ran a hand, comblike, through her hair. “We’re back to square one now. It’s all so frustrating!”

“Buck up, love. We’ll untangle this mystery yet. Superman’s body will be recovered—I promise you that!”

“I wish I had your confidence, Lex. We still don’t know who robbed the tomb, and that flood probably washed away any clues we might have found.”

“I’m afraid Supergirl’s right, Luthor.” Sawyer jotted down notes in her report book. “I’m not looking forward to breaking this news to the public.”

“What?!” Luthor’s jaw dropped. “Captain, surely any disclosure must wait until we know more! Can you imagine the outcry if we revealed that Superman’s body had disappeared?”

Turpin wore an awful frown. “I gotta admit, Maggie, he’s got a point. If this got out, it could start a riot.”

“It could, indeed, Inspector.” Luthor clapped the old cop on the back and pressed on. “Superman’s death left so many people bereft. If word should leak that his crypt was empty . . . well, our more distraught citizens might jump to all manner of conclusions!”

Ramirez cocked his head toward Sawyer. “Some of them have already, Cap’n, if we can believe the reports I’ve gotten from the guys out by the grave site! You’d better take a look.”

Moments later, they were all back at the east wall grating. Spread out before them in the dawn’s light was a small sea of people milling about before the tomb. Over half of them were wearing royal blue robes that bore the red and yellow pentagonal S-shield of Superman.

Sawyer raised an eyebrow. “Early-rising bunch. Where’d they come from?”

“California,” reported one of the outer guards. “From what one of ’em told Rusty, that’s where their cult got started.”

“Cult?”

“That’s right, Inspector. Those people actually
worship
Superman—and I don’t mean hero worship!”

At the base of the tomb, one of the cultists was already preaching to his flock “. . . and I say to you, sisters and brothers, do not despair! Be not afraid! In our hour of greatest need, Superman shall return to us from beyond the grave! Yea, he will return and save us all! Say the name now. Say the name and be free!”

The plaza began to echo with their chant: “Superman! SUPERMAN!
SUPERMAN!”

“Oh, great! Of all the times for this to happen!” Sawyer smacked her hand against the grating in disgust. “It looks like we have no choice but to keep a lid on this for now. We’ll expect your full cooperation in our investigations, Luthor.”

“Of course, Captain. For now, though, I think it would be best if we sealed this access and slipped away as quietly as possible. Don’t you agree, Doctor?”

Happersen nodded, his head nervously bobbing as though it were mounted on a spring.

Minutes later, as a Special Crimes Unit van drove away from the park, Maggie Sawyer finally gave voice to her suspicions. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Luthor and the others, Dan, but I’d bet a year’s pay that Paul Westfield and the Cadmus Project are behind this!”

“Well, their last attempt at tryin’ to grab Superman sure makes ’em prime suspects, Maggie.” Turpin shook his head. “I hate to think of the Guardian bein’ mixed up with that bunch. He struck me as a straight-arrow kinda guy.”

“And maybe he is, Dan, but he doesn’t run the show. And from what I’ve seen, Cadmus has the kind of technology to carry off something like this.” Sawyer grew silent for a minute. “You know, I think I’ll call Ben Friendly at the FBI and see if he can add some federal muscle to our investigation.”

“We’ll need it if Westfield is involved.” Turpin sounded angry enough to bite nails. “That weasel wouldn’t come clean if you ran him through a car wash! Speakin’ of weasels, do you think we’ll get any real help from Luthor?”

Sawyer shook her head. “No, Dan, I don’t. Luthor didn’t rob Superman’s grave, but he does have some personal agenda in this mess. I can almost smell it!”

Several blocks away, Luthor’s limousine pulled away from the curb and turned back downtown. Supergirl flew high overhead, keeping a protective eye on the car.

Below, Luthor sealed off the back of the limousine and began to grill his science advisor. “How good a look did you get at that charge before it went off, Happersen?”

“Well, I noticed some markings, but I couldn’t see it clearly enough to make out any serial numbers.”

“What about those markings? Think, man, what did they look like to you?”

“It all happened so quickly.” Happersen closed his eyes and tried to recall. “There was a large design of some kind—some sort of crossed out X or something.”

“No, Happersen, not an X . . . more like a stylized DNA helix!”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“That was a Cadmus imprint on that charge, I’d swear it. The men that Westfield used in his stand at the morgue wore a similar insignia.”

“Sir, do you seriously think that Westfield would defy a direct presidential order?”

“Oh, don’t be an idiot, Sydney! Westfield would circumvent an order from God Almighty if it suited his purposes! So would I. I could almost admire the man’s tenacity. If only I knew what he was up to—!”

“It’s a pity you had to terminate Dr. Teng after he assisted Dabney Donovan in your—ah—‘resurrection,’ Mr. L. Teng did a masterful job of infiltrating Cadmus for us, and no one there was ever the wiser. He would be the perfect mole, if he were still alive.”

“No matter, Happersen. If we planted one mole in the Project, we can plant another! I want you to get on that immediately. I must know what Westfield is up to. I must!”

“Your attention, please! LexAir Flight 2710, nonstop service to Kansas City, is now ready for boarding at gate five.”

“Well, that’s us.” Jonathan Kent shifted slightly under the weight of his carry-on bag. “Good-bye, Lois. You take care of yourself now!”

“I will, Jonathan. You take good care, too.” Lois tried to hold back the tears as she hugged him and Martha and then Lana. “Safe traveling, all! I promise that I’ll keep in touch!”

As the hugs broke off, Lana gave a shy little wave and began shepherding the Kents down the jetway.

Lois waved back from just outside the gate. “Give my best to Peter, Lana. Let me know if you need any help with—with your wedding.”

Lana paused in the jetway and looked back. All those years with Clark—and then without him—came flooding back to her.
And I thought that
I’d
lost him, just because he didn’t love me the way I loved him. My loss can’t begin to compare to hers.

“Lois!” Lana ran back up the jetway and threw her arms around the reporter. “Oh, Lois, if it would bring him back, I’d gladly give up twenty years of my own life.”

“So would I, Lana. S-so would I. I—I know how much you loved him. Please, keep an eye on the Kents. They’re going to need you.”

“I will. And you take care of yourself. I know how hard it will be. If you ever need a shoulder—”

“Sure.”

Lana reached out and brushed a tear from Lois’s cheek. “I promise—whenever you need me, I’ll be there for you. Always.”

16