Enemies & Allies by Kevin J. Anderson

said he would provide the best possible medical treatment.” She set down her sandwich as if she’d lost her appetite. “They’re all dead now.”
    The cheery waitress came back to fill their coffee cups.
    “Apparently there was a radiation leak. All their hair fell out—I heard Luthor make jokes about them being bald.” She shook her head. “I haven’t shown any symptoms yet, but Luthor swept all of us under the rug.”
    The story made Lois’s blood boil. “Do you have any proof of this, Mrs. Rosen?”
    “They took everything from me. I have no records, no photos, nothing tangible. But you’ll find everything you need in the LuthorCorp munitions factory in the barrens outside of Metropolis.” Her eyes lit up. “And I can tell you how a smart, resourceful reporter might be able to slip inside and take a look around.”

WAYNE MANOR
     
    G OTHAM CITY’S MOST ILLUSTRIOUS CITIZENS ATTENDED Bruce Wayne’s famous parties, and ample front-page coverage in the Gotham Times society section went without saying. Sparing no expense, Bruce always centered these soirees around an important humanitarian cause; though most of the celebrities and important personages attended just to be seen, they also brought their checkbooks.
    “Wayne Manor is, after all, my father’s house,” Bruce had once told the lovely reporter Vicki Vale for a feature article. “Thomas Wayne devoted his life to helping people, and I intend to honor his memory.”
    “You can’t possibly remember him very clearly, Mr. Wayne. You were only six years old when—”
    He had been tempted to cut off the interview then and there, but instead he interrupted and said, “I remember him, Miss Vale. I remember him well.”
    The guests arrived in limousines that glided into the porte cochere. They displayed their most expensive formalwear, furs, and jewels. The glitterati included Gotham’s most prominent citizens, as well as celebrity guests: movie stars, singers, and sports personalities, including Rock Hudson, David Niven, Buddy Holly, Paul Anka, Sugar Ray Robinson. The quiet, revered star of the show was Eleanor Roosevelt, the former first lady, who had turned her considerable energies to supporting the cause of polio research.
    Though he’d changed promptly into his finest tuxedo, Bruce did not step through the entry doors until he considered himself fashionably late. His aloof nature was well known, and the guests had started without him.
    When he finally descended the grand staircase, moving with an air of casual mystery, all conversation stopped. A few—the first-timers or the nouveau riche—applauded politely until Bruce alighted in the main hall and held up one hand for silence, the other for a drink. Alfred appeared immediately with a tray bearing a martini glass and his specially mixed Vesper (in reality, a bit of lemon peel and chilled ice water).
    “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my humble home.” There was a quick titter at the old joke. “Tonight I offer you an opportunity to be generous—to raise funds for polio research. Countless poor children around the world are crippled by this awful disease. The medical research and new vaccine of Dr. Jonas Salk shows great promise, and we must not let him lack for resources.” He nodded toward Eleanor Roosevelt, who stood stoic and proud, like visiting royalty; she applauded loudly, though her gloved hands muffled the sound.
    The former first lady cleared her throat and spoke in a strong, confident voice that might have been used in a Shakespeare performance. “You all know my personal reasons for wanting to rid humanity of this terrible scourge. My wonderful husband would have congratulated Mr. Wayne for his efforts. And I congratulate you all for being here. Please help fight this disease with the weapons you all wield—your checkbooks.” The audience responded with a ripple of laughter.
    Bruce stepped forward to conclude his speech. “Let us show Mrs. Roosevelt the generosity and