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woodcutters. Our teams have a very high fatality rate.” Ceridov drained his vodka and shrugged. “It is fortunate that we have an inexhaustible supply of workers.”
    “Let me see these workers and your quarry.” Impatient, Luthor looked at the rectangular face of his wristwatch, a white-gold Cartier Tank. “I’ve flown halfway around the world not to see you, General, but to observe the operations here. We’ve put a great deal of effort into this boondoggle, and I have yet to be convinced of its potential.”
    “Then come look at our excavations of the meteor impact site.” Ceridov pulled on his heavy jacket. He opened a desk drawer and withdrew a Russian ushanka, the familiar fur hat, which he proudly placed on Luthor’s bald head. “My gift to you. This will keep your brain warm.”
    “My thoughts keep my brain warm.”
    Ceridov opened the wooden door to the watery sunshine of a late Siberian spring. “The crater is very large. You will be impressed.”

THE DAILY PLANET
     
    W ITHOUT KNOCKING, LOIS MARCHED INTO PERRY WHITE’S office and dropped a newspaper on his desk, folded open to section 3 and Jimmy Olsen’s photo of Bruce Wayne. “This isn’t news, Chief. It’s entertainment. What’s so interesting about a playboy who flaunts his wealth and then tries to soothe his conscience by doing charity work? You shouldn’t have sent Clark to do a puff piece.”
    “Wasn’t meant to be a puff piece.” Chomping on his cigar, Perry picked up the newspaper and perused the article again.
    Lois pushed the paper back down so he had to give her his full attention. “I’ve got a better story to pitch. Forget Bruce Wayne— Lex Luthor is a different breed entirely. I want to do a profile on Metropolis’s own rich industrialist, and you can bet your ass my story won’t read like something written by the LuthorCorp public relations department.”
    Perry raised his bushy eyebrows. “Luthor doesn’t give feature interviews. He likes his privacy too much. We’ve tried dozens of times.”
    “ Superman doesn’t give interviews either, and I managed to pull that off.”
    “Good point.” Perry fiddled with his cigar, pondering. “You just have a bee in your bonnet because Luthor invited Steve Lombard to cover that flamethrower demonstration last month instead of you.” He actually chuckled, and a hot flush came to her cheeks.
    Lois had submitted requests to LuthorCorp to attend the big-ticket military demonstration, but Luthor had turned her down flat. “Lombard is a sports reporter. What credentials does he have to cover such an important story?”
    “Lombard is also a man, and you’re not.”
    Lois harrumphed, knowing that Perry had put his finger on the reason, though she hated to admit it. She knew full well the difficulties a female journalist faced every day. “Then he might as well have asked for Kent.” She tried to summon scorn into her voice, but Clark was a decent reporter and so endearing with his small-town innocence that she couldn’t think ill of him.
    Lois leaned over the desk. “I have it on good authority that there’s been a recent and very disturbing shakeup among the employees of LuthorCorp. Lex Luthor has been rapidly, but very quietly, getting rid of dozens of older men and all the women on his workforce, even though they’ve been a vital part of his military production lines for years. Tomorrow I’m meeting with a confidential source who’ll tell me what Luthor’s really doing in his weapons factories. My guess is he’s got a whole boneyard of skeletons in his closet.” She smiled at him. “By now you should know to let me follow my instincts, Chief. How many other reporters have gotten an interview with the Man of Steel?”
    Perry sighed and leaned back in his creaking desk chair. “Go ahead, Lois. See if you can dig up any dirt on Luthor. Once you make up your mind, no force in the world can stop you—not even Superman. But be careful!”
    She agreed quickly, but after