Enemies & Allies by Kevin J. Anderson Page B

comment drew polite laughter from the nearby listeners. “Speaking of which…” He raised his now-empty “martini” glass. “Time to freshen my drink.”
    He melted away again, seeking Alfred. The butler was handing a leather jacket back to Rock Hudson, ushering him genteelly out the door. The heartthrob actor had to leave early due to his shooting schedule. As they watched Hudson’s sports car swirl away down the drive, Bruce asked quietly, “How much longer, Alfred?”
    “The evening has barely begun, Master Bruce. Chin up.”
    “All for the greater good, I suppose,” Bruce said, then lowered his voice again. “Are you marking the glasses carefully when you collect the empty drinks?”
    “Indeed, sir. You’ll have plenty of new specimens for your crime lab— tomorrow. ” He emphasized the word with a scolding tone. “Tonight, you must play your part and socialize with your adoring public, no matter how difficult it may be for you.”
    “Yes, Alfred.”
    With a wry expression and freshened faux-Vesper, Bruce returned to the social fray. The people were laughing and drinking and smoking in a background drone, a blur of sensation and sound and smell. He made them all feel welcome.
    Trays strategically placed about the halls and exit received checks and envelopes of cash donations. It was a bright and glittering party, one of his best, judging by the amount of money raised for charity. The members of Gotham’s high society would consider it a triumph. Even Eleanor Roosevelt seemed to be enjoying herself, and Bruce spent a generous amount of time talking with her. She sat alone at the side of the room, watching the people who seemed too intimidated to engage her in casual conversation.
    Bruce, though, was a gracious host. Mrs. Roosevelt sipped her soda water. “Thank you for this evening, Mr. Wayne, but you don’t need to bother with me. I know you have many social obligations. I’m doing just fine, thank you.”
    “Why, you’re no bother at all, ma’am. We wouldn’t be here if not for your work. I’m just helping to rid the world of an awful blight on humanity.” At least this was one blight he might be able to eradicate completely, forever.
    She shooed him away. “Now, you go on and talk to your other guests. You’re making me all teary eyed.”
    He bowed politely and went to attend his party. Through every excruciating moment, Bruce maintained his cordial smile. He had an innate aversion to being relaxed in public, but he had a flair for looking comfortable in almost any social setting, while his sharp eyes and ears picked up on every bit of knowledge that might prove useful. It definitely made his detective work easier.
    He didn’t view the event as a party so much as a chance to gather data on some of the wealthiest people in Gotham society so that he could analyze the information in his secret lab tomorrow. For tonight, he had his role to play.

THE DAILY PLANET
     
    T HE NEXT MORNING, LOIS LANE STRUTTED INTO THE DAILY Planet office as she always did, head held high, heels clicking a confident staccato. She flung open the glass doors into the bullpen with her typical saucy “What’s news, everybody?” (countered by the just-as-usual daily groaning at her corny joke).
    At his desk, Clark was buried in letters, still not sure which ones to answer or how. When she noticed him, she paused, her face showing a sudden and unexpected warmth. “Were you working all night on that, Clark?”
    “Oh, hi, Lois. I went home, but I didn’t stop thinking about it. I’m a fish out of water with this stuff.” He shrugged his big shoulders helplessly. “I sure could use your advice.”
    She hesitated, as if on the verge of turning away with a dismissive “Not my problem,” but then she stopped. “You’re a sweet aw-shucks kind of guy, Clark, but I wouldn’t call you an expert on women. I don’t know what the Chief was thinking giving you that assignment.”
    “He did suggest that we work