The Day after the Gala

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*Jordan McIntyre doesn't use this penthouse often. Mostly, he lends it out to his associates, people he works with. Not at his oil company, mind, although they've been here frequently, too. No, this is one of dozens of centers all around the world where his people can work in private, free from interference.

The day before had been ... interesting. Sue Dibny and Ted Kord fascinated him, and as he told her repeatedly, he was a huge fan of her novels. And Kord knew all sorts of things worth knowing. No, they were going to be fine additions, and the consensus came rather rapidly.

Shame about Jefferson, though. Jordan visited him at the hospital, just this morning. A man in that kind of health -- nonsmoker, only drank lightly. Guess it shows it can happen to anyone. The thought doesn't sit well with him.

Danette Reilley had disappeared from her hospital room. That was concerning. He'd seen reports that certain government agencies were perfecting ways of mining memories from even inactive brains. He, personally, saw that as distasteful, but could se its potential use. Still, one more thing to worry about. And he'll probably end up in another row with Tanner Kae over it. "Spare me Southern Dixiecrats," he thinks, pouring himself another cup of coffee. No servants in this place -- too much trouble, too much of a security breach. And frankly, he was quite capable of pouring his own damn coffee, thank you very much. Too many people at his stature were complete invalids, or pretended to be.

It was interesting seeing Thomas Wayne's boy again. He's grown up fine, handsome, sharp. He's got the act down, but it's hard to mask how much is going on in the eyes. He's going to have to call that boy for lunch before he leaves town.

His guest will be arriving shortly.