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March 23, 1940
Whitfield, Derbyshire, England

Civilian car production had shrunk dramatically in an England preparing for war, but there were plenty of used cars for sale and Wayne Colt had found them a 1933 Alvis Speed 20 to ride in cross-country. Wayne was an American, like Lois and Clark were, but drove on the opposite side of the car like he was born to it. Though Superman could have made the trip faster on foot, it was a pleasant experience seeing another country at a leisurely pace for once. So leisurely had their pace become that, today, instead of pressing on to Dover, the four traveling companions had stopped at a public house in the hamlet of Whitfield for something to eat. Wayne had excused himself to go phone ahead from a public telephone, leaving Clark and Lois to sit with Wayne’s Russian wife, Zora, inside the pub called the Archer.

“To intrigue!” Lois Lane proposed as she lifted her mug of ale for a toast.

“Please, Lois,” Zora said with just a hint of Russian accent, “I would feel more comfortable toasting your profession. To journalism?”

“I’m sorry,” Lois said coyly. “I thought I was only referring to our purpose in Dover. Since you and your husband will only drop cryptic clues as to what that purpose is…”

“Cryptic? Why, Lois, we simply did not want to bore you with details.”

“Oh, I love details, Zora. That’s why I got into journalism…”

Superman smiled. Lois was unlikely to drag anything new out of Zora, but he admired how Lois kept creatively pestering her for more information. Of course, Wayne and Zora Colt had thoroughly underestimated Lois if they thought they could keep something from her without her wanting to find out what.

Posing, of course, as Clark Kent, Superman winced as he drank his ale. He was using it to play up his image of being a milquetoast unable to handle alcohol. The wince was real, but for the opposite reason – in reality, to Superman’s constitution, this ale was as weak as a glass of water.

So Superman leaned back in his chair, enjoying a roast beef sandwich and the show of Lois and Zora’s verbal swordplay. It was handy that Lois was so distracted by the Colts now, as it kept her eyes off him. Several times on the ocean voyage, Lois had looked at Clark clearly, without her usual avoidance and scorn, and there was sometimes a suspicious look in her eyes and a mouth left hanging open, as if she wanted to ask about the resemblance to Superman, but did not dare say anything so seemingly absurd out loud.

It did not matter to him what the Colts wanted them for; he trusted the Colts from their adventure in Opar after their unfortunate Spanish Civil War experience* and Superman needed the Colts – or at least their promised aid – in securing safe passage to Occupied Poland for Lois and him. Then he and Lois would not only have scooped most every newspaper in the U.S., but they would be able to send home much-needed reports of how bad the situation in Europe was becoming.

*Yes, another untold tale of Superman! ~Scott

Superman heard Wayne come back into the pub, but did not react until everyone else did when Wayne came up to their table. He tossed two pound notes down on the table. “Come on, we need to go.”

Everyone noted the urgency in Wayne’s voice and made ready to leave. They filed out of the pub and climbed into the Alvis that was waiting out front with its engine running. They were barely moving, though, when a car that had been parked on the curb behind them started up and pulled out onto the road. It did not seem overly suspicious until the Colts’ car left town and the following car stayed right behind them.

“Is that car following us,” Lois asked.

“That car is definitely following us,” Nora said, glancing frequently at the rearview mirrors.

“Should we be concerned?” Superman asked, twisting around in is seat for a better look and acting concerned.

“Oh, stop squirming, Clark!” Lois complained with her usual contempt for Clark’s apparent spinelessness.

“I’d guess not,” Wayne said, still sounding nonchalant. “More likely they just want to see where we’re going. No, hold on…” he said more seriously. “Hang on.”

Their pursuers had just gunned the engine and swerved to try and pass the Colts’ Alvis or at least pull up alongside it. Wayne gunned his engine too and swerved to block them. The two cars danced like this for a third of a mile with their pursuers hitting the brakes each time instead of risking a collision, but after that their pursuers grew more reckless. The next time Wayne blocked them, they rammed the Alvis hard enough that it almost pushed them off the road.

Now even Superman was concerned, but there was little he could do now that would not give away his true identity. While he had considered telling Lois, he did not trust the Colts enough yet with his secret – and certainly not whoever was ramming them from behind.

“Hold tight!” Wayne said, as their car was jostled so hard by a second hit that Lois was thrown against Superman, who pretended to be thrown against the car door. The Alvis skid across the shoulder of the road before Wayne could right it again and the pursuing car was coming up alongside them now.

Superman had already counted four occupants in the other car and had even heard snatches of German spoken between them over the roar of the two car engines. He had definitely heard the word ‘gas’ – and knew they did not mean petrol, as that word in German was benzin – and when he saw a long grenade launcher aimed at his window through the opposite car’s open window he hoped they meant knockout gas and not something like mustard gas.

The launcher fired and the grenade crashed through the window next to Superman. He blocked shattered glass with one arm and snatched the grenade in mid-air with his free hand faster than anyone could see, but yelled “Ow!” and leaned forward as if the grenade had struck him and hurt him. Superman leaned low over the grenade and took a whiff of the escaping gas, relieved to smell chloroform-based gas and not something more deadly. He dropped the grenade, pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket, and pretended to cough into it while he waited for Lois and the Colts to be incapacitated.

As Wayne slumped forward against the steering wheel, the car careened into a ditch off the side of the road. Superman slumped back in his seat and pretended to be unconscious as well, while listening to the other car stop and three of the men emerge from it.

“Open the doors and let the gas out,” one of the men was saying in German. “Then pull them out and search them.”

Superman knew he was not carrying anything of value, so that left the other three. And while he had every confidence in Lois’ ability to come into possession of something dangerous, the Colts still seemed more likely to have whatever these men were looking for.

The doors of the Alvis were thrown open and the Germans began reaching in to pull people out. Superman’s turn came, but Superman was watching them through squinted eyes. Faster than anyone would see, Superman reached up and delivered a nerve pinch to the German leaning over him. Abruptly, the German tumbled out of the car, asleep.

“There must be too much gas still in the back seat and that fool Franz breathed in too deep,” one of the three remaining men said, this time in good English and only a trace of his German accent. “Take over for him, Heinrich.”

Heinrich, the man who had already pulled Zora out of the car, reached in for Superman and got the same nerve pinch, but instead of falling out this one fell inward on top of Superman.

“Was ist denn hier los?“ one of the two remaining Germans said, wondering what was going on. He came around the car and pulled Heinrich off of Superman with one hand, while holding a pistol out in his free hand. When Heinrich fell away, though, he could see that Superman was not only awake, but pointing a gun at him – the gun Superman had defly pulled out of Heinrich’s shoulder holster as Heinrich fell against him.

“Keep that gun up where I can see it,” Superman said, stepping out of the car. Keeping up the pretense that he was Clark Kent, Superman swiveled the gun around to cover both men still on their feet. Both men slowly raised their hands in surrender.

Looking around, Superman could see Dover Harbor still two miles away to the south, but around here there were just empty, wooded fields divvied up by low stone walls and a lone shack nearby.

“Head for that shack. Now,” Superman commanded in forceful tones. The two Germans complied at once and Superman followed along behind them, though he chucked the pistol quietly into a shrub he passed along the way. Once they reached the shack and went in, one of the men noticed that Superman was not holding his gun anymore. He turned and moved to draw his own gun from a hip holster, but Superman tapped a knuckle to the man’s chin and battered him unconscious with it. Still keeping up appearances, Superman made a big show of pretending to put a lot of follow-through into the punch.

The remaining German had time to pull his gun, but Superman swatted it out of his hand, grabbed the man by the shirt and pushed him up against the wall of the shack, being careful not to push him through it.

“You tell me exactly what you wanted from us,” Superman commanded.

Four minutes later, the last German was still conscious, but lying on the floor of the shack, in his underwear, his mouth gagged with his own socks and his arms and legs tied up with his shirt and pants respectively.

Superman jogged back to the car, pushing his glasses back up as he jogged. Everyone was still unconscious. Superman knelt down over Wayne and searched his pockets quickly. There was a small address book in Wayne’s inside jacket pocket and a slip of paper inside that with some random-seeming words written on it. This was what the German had been looking for. If it was code it was a good one and Superman needed a few minutes to crack it – minutes he did not have. Wayne and Zora, having been furthest in the car from the sleep gas grenade, were starting to come out of a deep sleep. Superman scooped up each of them, one at a time, placing Wayne in the front passenger seat, and then Zora and Lois in the back. Superman pushed the car back out of the ditch and up onto the road again. He was about to hop in and drive away when something startling happened.

Superman did a double take when he looked ahead down the road. The road no longer looked like gray asphalt; it looked shimmering white. He glanced back down the road in the opposite direction and it looked as black as night.

“My dream…” Superman said out loud, for it reminded him of the dream that was now a recurring dream about a bright road and a dark road, but never had he experienced a waking dream like this before. He squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head, and looked again. All was back as it was before.

As much as he wanted answers about what was happening to him, it seemed none were forthcoming and he still wanted to be away from here when the others woke up. Superman climbed into the driver’s seat and sped away just in time to hear Wayne moaning next to him.

“Huh…what happened?” Wayne managed to ask.

“I don’t know,” Superman lied, sounding like timid Clark Kent again. “I woke up and found those guys who had been trying to run us off the road were gone.”

“How did we…?” Wayne started to ask, curious about the revised seating arrangement, but he forgot all about that when he checked his pockets. “My address book!” he cried. “It’s gone!”

“They must have searched us while we were asleep,” Superman lied again. “What was in it?”

“A message…a message I was supposed to deliver…”

“Oh, Wayne,” Zora said, awake enough now to engage in the conversation. “Are you sure?”

“Look, maybe it’s time you two told us what’s going on…” Superman said.

Wayne hemmed and hawed.

“Just tell them,” Zora said. “They deserve to know.”

“All right,” Wayne said, sounding defeated. “There’s someone we needed to meet in Dover and give a message to. It’s important for the war effort. But Zora and I knew that enemy agents were onto us and looking for a couple traveling alone. That’s why we invited you two along – and it was working too! Threw them off our trail for most of the trip here…”

The road was heading into Dover proper now. Dover Castle could be seen towering over the streets of crowded, but short, tenements.

“I think you should still meet with …whoever this is,” Superman said. “Maybe it will still work out.”

“Clark,” Zora said, putting a hand up on his shoulder, “if you’d be so good as to find a hotel, I think it would be safer for you and Lois there.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Lois said, no longer pretending to be asleep. “I haven’t come this far just to be shoved aside and miss a story.”

Wayne was about to say something when Superman spoke over him. “It seems to me, if there are other agents in Dover, they will be watching hotels for a couple checking in. It would make more sense to keep us with you, so no one can learn your whereabouts from us.”

Wayne silently mulled it over this time before saying, “All right,” with a defeated air.

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If the Colts were upset to have company, it did not show as the four of them leisurely toured Dover together throughout the afternoon. After a long stop in the Dover Museum, they found an inn not far from Market Square where they could enjoy a dinner. Superman noticed how Zora was supposed to keep them distracted with chatter while Wayne sat with his back to the wall, watching the rest of the restaurant. Zora had them talking about politics back home until 8:30, when Wayne looked at his watch and said, “It’s time.”

After exiting the inn, the four of them piled back into their car and drove down to the port in the harbor. The harbor was full of ships, anchored in rows like barricades to protect the port, while the port itself was relatively empty and very quiet.

Wayne parked in front of a row of warehouses and turned off the car. He looked at Zora, who nodded back. Then Wayne turned around and took his time making eye contact with both Lois and Superman. “Stay in the car,” he told them. Wayne exited the car, looked around, and made a motion to Zora who exited the car and came after him as they strolled casually past the first warehouse. They disappeared down an alley behind the second warehouse.

Lois opened her car door.

“Where are you going?” Superman asked.

“I’m following them,” Lois said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And then she did.

Superman looked concerned, only until Lois was out of the car and walking away. Then he smiled and murmured, “It’s about time…” to himself as he pulled off his jacket and tie. Shortly, it was Superman who emerged from the car and every vestige of his Clark Kent disguise was neatly folded and tucked under the front seat. And it was Superman who ducked behind the car to remain unobserved when he heard two more cars approaching without headlights. Five men in dark suits emerged from the two vehicles, three of whom were toting short-muzzled sub-machine guns, probably British Stens. Superman followed them to see what they were up to. In fact, he was right behind them, still unobserved in the dark of the dimly lit street, when they cornered Lois in the alley, outside a side door to the second warehouse.

“Go ahead, see if the door is open,” one of the men told Lois. Superman detected a slight German accent, skillfully concealed under a fake English accent. That was all he was waiting for to decide whose side these five were on.

Lois, seeing a gun trained on her, made a point of being noisy with the door to alert the Colts inside. One of the men grabbed her forcefully by the arm and pushed her inside ahead of them as a living shield.

Superman wanted to belt that guy first, but settled for the two at the rear and knocked their heads together just hard enough to give them both concussions. Superman crouched low to catch their falling guns in his outstretched hands, while he allowed the unconscious men to drape across his arms before they hit the ground. No one noticed him until the second agent was going inside and happened to glance back and caught sight of the yellow on Superman’s chest by moonlight. That man spoke in German to his companion and Superman caught that it was instruction to stand to the side. The third agent understood and complied, leaving a clear line of sight between Superman and the barrel of the Sten in the second agent’s hands. Superman was faster, though, and whipped a handgun out of his right hand and into the second agent’s face hard enough to break the man’s nose. Then Superman backhanded the third agent with his left hand, still holding a captured Sten. The third agent hit the back of his head against the concrete wall of the warehouse and collapsed. The way was clear to the open door and Superman went in.

The lights were off in the warehouse and moonlight barely crept through high windows on the east and west sides of the building. The remaining agent was standing with his back to a stack of crates, with one hand holding Lois in front of him and the other hand clutching a gun.

“I know you’re in here!” the agent shouted. “I’ve got the girl! Give me the message and the girl lives.”

In the dark, the agent never saw Superman coming. The agent had no idea the barrel of his gun had been pinched shut. The agent never saw the punch coming that hit him in the side, cracked a rib, and left him gasping for breath on the floor just before losing consciousness.

“It’s okay, Lois. You’re safe now,” Superman said in his normal, non-Clark Kent-like voice.

“Oh! Superman!” Lois exclaimed in a mixture of shock and relief. “I didn’t think you’d ever manage to save me this time. Where are you?”

“Right over here. And I have something I think your friends want. Lights?” Superman asked loudly.

In answer, a switch was thrown and the overhead lights blinked on. Wayne Colt was clearly visible in the middle of the warehouse, standing next to a man in a trench coat, fedora and a monocle.

“Superman?” Wayne asked. “We didn’t think you were here. Have you been following Lois and Clark this whole time?”

“I have,” Superman said, stepping forward in front of Lois. “They have an important mission of their own to do in Poland and I’m here to make sure they get there safely.”

“Where is Clark?” Zora asked as she stepped into the middle of the room with them. “Those spies didn’t hurt him, did they?”

“I’m afraid I had to do something with that,” Superman said. “When he passed me, heading back into town to alert the authorities, I stopped him. But he’ll come around soon.”

“You were saying something about having what her friends want?” the man with the monocle suddenly prompted.

Superman produced Wayne’s address book, which he had tucked in to the back of his belt. “I intercepted this off those spies who gave you trouble just outside Dover today. I’d give it to you, if you can convince me that some good will come out of you having this.”

“Well, that could be difficult,” the man with the monocle said, stepping forward. There was no trace of German in his accent. Indeed, Superman placed him from southern New England, unless he was a true master at disguising his voice. “There would be a lot of sensitive, classified information I might have to tell you then. Perhaps it would suffice to say that we’re working for the United States, Espionage Division. I’m known by the code name Black X. We’re clandestinely working to aid England prepare its defenses. That address book should contain coded instructions for me. If you trust the Colts at all, I ask that you trust me as well and let me have it.”

Superman carefully read this Black X’s face. He looked sincere and Superman considered himself an excellent reader of sincerity. He took a long pause to see how Black X reacted, but Black X just stood there, watching him patiently. Then Superman held out the address book to him.

“Thank you,” Black X said as he took the book and hurriedly flipped through it to find the loose slip with the coded message on it. “I see…” he said as he read it. Then, looking up, Black X said, “You know, you would be a greater asset to your country as a spy than as a vigilante. Would you consider staying and helping us?”

Superman was a bit taken aback. After his battle with the National Guard last year*, he thought he had burned all his bridges to ever being accepted by the authorities. “That’s…an interesting offer. And I might consider that, after I get these reporters to Poland.”

*Action Comics #8, 1939

“I see. Then, godspeed to you, Superman,” Black X said as the two men shook hands.

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Next: In Golden Age Action Comics #8: Superman encounters Luthor for the first time in Action Comics #23, but Superman’s European adventures don’t end there. Be back next time for more on Superman’s mysterious visions and, oh, just a little effort to stop the Nazi invasion of Norway we like to call “Superman vs. the Nazis”!

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