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base on an island in the Caribbean, for which he had used mostly expendable workers—much like the Soviet gulag slaves here—to do the hazardous parts of the job, particularly in constructing the small power reactor on the island. Many of the workers, especially the weak and less valuable females whom he had placed in the most hazardous activities, had succumbed to lethal radiation exposure…which had the added benefit, in Luthor’s view, of ensuring that they could not reveal the existence or location of the base. Yes, indeed, chess on a global scale.
    “Unfortunately, comrade Luthor, you Americans have tipped the balance of power by developing a super-weapon that we cannot match. I have read reports of your ‘Superman’ in Metropolis. They say he can leap tall buildings with a single bound, that he moves faster than a speeding bullet.”
    Luthor tried to cloak his annoyance with a mocking laugh. “You of all people should know not to believe propaganda! According to the newspapers, he also claims to be an alien. Personally, I’m not convinced.”
    “But I have seen the photographs and read the interview he gave to Miss Lois Lane. Who is this man? How does he get his powers?” Ceridov’s ice-blue eyes narrowed. “More important, how will you keep him under your control? He is a loose cannon, and a powerful one at that.”
    “Don’t worry about some costumed man showing off abilities that belong in a circus act. He’s a freak of nature.”
    The general brooded in silence for a long moment. “If I learn you are lying to me, that he is a product of your own secret eugenics program…”
    “Like the Soviet eugenics program?” Luthor smirked wryly. “I know you’ve been trying to breed your own superman for years.”
    Ceridov seemed embarrassed by this. “Your program appears to have been more successful than ours.” He poured himself a second glass, then offered the bottle to Luthor, who had taken only one sip. “More vodka? It will keep you warm.”
    Luthor rubbed his hands together briskly. Although Ceridov had offered him a fur parka as soon as his private jet had landed, Luthor still wore his business suit. “Why not just heat this cabin instead?” He knew that a modern scaled-down nuclear reactor provided ample power for the whole gulag and the industrial operations in the adjacent quarry. “We’re in the middle of one of the largest untouched primeval forests in the world—can’t you spare a few sticks of firewood?” He indicated the old-fashioned potbellied stove that sat in the corner.
    “It will do no good. The wood from these forests around the meteor crater is…tainted, somehow. The fire burns cold. ”
    Luthor scoffed. “Nonsense.”
    Ceridov opened the stove, and Luthor noted that while a fire was blazing inside, it generated no warmth. The general added a log from the firewood stack against the wall and shut the stove again. He didn’t even need gloves to touch the metal. “If only I had the manpower to investigate the mystery. Fortunately, our beloved premier is bound to arrest more Soviet scientists soon, charge them with crimes against the state, and sentence them here to my gulag. Then, perhaps, I will have the luxury of conducting research.”
    Luthor had noticed an odd smell in the headquarters cabin—wood smoke with a spoiled, vinegary undertone. “The wall paneling? And this table? Made from the same local trees?”
    The wood grain on the polished table, as well as the tongue-and-groove paneling that covered the wall, had strange, hypnotic swirls that drew Luthor’s attention. The patterns were quite unsettling. Though he was not a superstitious man, Luthor thought he saw hints of ghostly faces in the whorls, loops, and lines that stained the wood—screaming faces. He shook his head, sure it was some trick of Ceridov’s.
    “Our workers cut down the trees, chop the firewood, and use the lumber. Sometimes it is difficult. Saw blades shatter. Trees fall and crush