Enemies & Allies Read Online Free

you emulate any other fictional characters? Our readers want to know.”
    Bruce chuckled. “It’s difficult to keep secrets when people like you are watching my every move, Kent. Photographers everywhere, reporters, gossip columnists. I can’t go out to dinner without the whole world knowing what I order or how many crumbs I leave on the tablecloth.”
    Obviously, Wayne didn’t completely avoid media attention, though most of the articles about him were surprisingly shallow and devoid of facts. Clark wasn’t sure he liked this aloof and hedonistic man. Yes, he had a tragic past and an isolated upbringing, but he also bore the hallmarks of a spoiled rich kid with more money than he could spend. Clark supposed that Bruce Wayne had never really needed to work a day in his life. A week on the Kent farm in Kansas would certainly have taught Bruce Wayne a little humility and a solid work ethic.
    The butler stepped through the French doors and raised his eyebrows. “Mr. Wayne, the commissioner of police is ready for your luncheon. Shall I have the Bentley brought around?”
    Bruce glanced at the gold Rolex Oyster Perpetual on his wrist. “Sorry, Kent, but I do have another engagement. Alfred, please see these gentlemen out.”
    “Wait just a moment, please!” Jimmy, who had been listening with rapt attention, held up his camera. “I need some photos.”
    Striking a casual pose, Bruce stood by the club chair near the fireplace, accustomed to having his photo taken. Jimmy adjusted the focusing bed and pushed the button, and the flashbulb erupted. He quickly unscrewed the hot bulb with his fingertips, wincing, and replaced it with another. “I’d better get a few more shots.”
    When Jimmy was finished, but before he could pack his camera away, Bruce extended his arm in a magnanimous gesture. “Kent, come take a picture with me. One photo with the two of us. Clark Kent with Bruce Wayne. Mr. Olsen, if you please?”
    Clark raised his hands. “That’s not necessary, Mr. Wayne.”
    “I insist.” No argument.
    Embarrassed, Clark moved to stand beside him. The two men were almost equally large shoulder to shoulder. Bruce smiled and stood close. “Make sure you send me a copy of this one, please. I’d like to frame it for my office wall.”
    Jimmy took one last photo in a blinding flash.

METROPOLIS THE DAILY PLANET
     
    W ITH SOARING SKYSCRAPERS, BUSTLING PEOPLE, MUSIC, and the constant noise from traffic and pedestrians, Metropolis was an entirely different world from the American heartland where Clark Kent had grown up.
    Surrounded by tall buildings of concrete and glass, the Daily Planet offices were alive with energy, ringing telephones, chattering employees, and clacking typewriters. A harried switchboard operator made connections, plugging in wires as if she were performing emergency surgery on an octopus. On the streets below, cars honked their horns; a traffic cop blew his shrill whistle.
    Clark knew he wasn’t in Kansas anymore.
    Since his hearing was incredibly acute, he had trained himself to tune out distractions and focus on his manual typewriter and the sheet of bond rolled into the platen.
    On the trip back from Gotham, Clark had compiled his notes and impressions about Bruce Wayne, pulling together enough details to make an interesting story. Once the film was developed, Jimmy’s photos of the millionaire and his imposing manor had turned out well, including the embarrassing one of Wayne acting all chummy with Clark. (Jimmy had already sent a glossy print of that one to the Wayne Enterprises headquarters.) Even gruff Perry White had pronounced three of Jimmy’s shots “decent enough to use.”
    At his desk in the bullpen on the thirtieth floor, Clark hunched over the keys, hunting and pecking his way through the first draft of his profile article. He had learned to control his muscles and give the machine relatively delicate taps, careful never to let on how fast he could really type. His first