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return, Mr. Wayne gave you to me."
"Gave me?" The fear was back in the other man's eyes.
"It was the least he could do. You see, I have a certain interest in your employer."
"M-Mr. Samson?" the burly man stuttered. "All I know is that he collects people---"
Batman slammed the flat of his hand against the dashboard. "I don't care about the
small fry like Samson. I want to know who both of you were working for."
The burly man leaned as far away as his bonds would let him. "But I can't tell you about
that! He'd kill me!"
Batman regarded his prisoner for a moment. "And I won't?"
"Oh, Jesus," the burly man whispered. He made small animal noises, like a squirrel with
his tail caught in a trap, as Batman reached for him. The noises increased as Batman
dragged the man toward him, becoming more shrill and hysterical. The man jerked back
and forth, but he really had no place to go in the confines of the car.
"You will tell me what I need to know, now," Batman said quietly, "or I will stop being
nice of you."
The burly man gave one final, guttural scream, and then was quiet. He had stopped
struggling, too. Batman realized that he had passed out.
Well, Batman thought, at least he hadn't done any permanent physical damage to him.
He pushed the limp body back into the passenger seat. He really was afraid, with the anger
he still held inside him; afraid that, for maybe the first time in his whole career, he might go
too far. It was better that he let Gordon and the department handle this one.
He got out of the Batmobile, then walked over to the other side of the car and removed
the unconscious felon, throwing the criminal over his shoulder like the sack of refuse that
he was.
No one spoke to him as he strode across the lobby and rode the elevator up to Gordon's
office. Ms. Davis raised her eyebrows appreciatively as Batman passed her desk. He
knocked on Gordon's door with his free hand.
"Come," Gordon's voice replied.
He opened the door and walked in with his burden.
"Batman?"
"I brought you a present." Batman set the limp form down in a nearby chair.
"I see." Gordon waved at the new but still unconscious addition. "I assume this has a
story to go along with the body?"
"This is one of the kidnappers. I caught him in the act." Batman briefly outlined how
he had set up his trap with the aid of Bruce Wayne.
Gordon shook his head. "I'm getting nothing but surprises." He held out a piece of
paper. "Look at this fax that was just delivered to me."
Batman took the paper and read the hastily typed paragraph on the page before him.
"Commissioner Gordn: We must speak. I have information about criminal acttivities
and people who are trying to discredit my chucrh. The fate of Gotham City is at stake!
But we must meet alone! I will be at my seventh street church at 4 p.m. today. Please. I
will only talk to you if you are alone. We cannot trust anybody. J. Droll"
"What do you make of it?" Gordon asked. "Besides the fact that the man can't type?"
Batman looked back at the fax in his hands. Actually, the typing errors gave the page a
certain authenticity.
"It could be genuine," he said at last.
"Is it a trap?" Gordon asked.
Batman considered the question. "Maybe. Or maybe he's trying to double-cross The
Joker."
"Exactly my thoughts on the matter," Gordon agreed. "And if that's the case, I have to
go."
Batman nodded at his old friend. He would do no differently in the same situation.
"You may go in there alone. But I won't be very far away."
The phone beeped at his as he reentered the Batmobile.
"Bruce?" Dick's voice said on the other end of the line.
"Finally up?" Batman replied.
"Yeah," Dick replied, and Batman thought he could still hear exhaustion in the other
man's voice. "I've got a lot to tell you about Droll's organization."
"Maybe I'll have something to tell you, too," Batman countered. "Gordon's on his way
to have a meeting with him."
"Meeting?" There was fear in Dick's voice now. "No, that's too dangerous." What,
Batman wondered, had happened to Dick inside that church?
"I'll be watching him," Batman said reassuringly. "Listen, you know that we've handled
much worse than renegade ministers in our day. Get Alfred to fix you something to eat.
I'll check in with you as soon as this is over."
He hung up the phone before Dick could object. The young man needed to rest. And
soon, Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne would talk.
Dick had left some clothes in his closet. His chest and arms had filled out some in the
years he'd been away from here, but he found what once had been a loose-fitting sweatshirt
and an old pair of jeans that didn't need a belt. He had to get out of here. Bruce and the
commissioner didn't realize what they were getting into.
"Master Grayson?" the butler called as Dick hurried down the stairs. "Would you care
for some dinner?"
"Sorry, Alfred," Dick called as he ran to one of the hidden panels that led to the Batcave.
"I have to go."
"But, Master Dick---" The butler's voice cut off as the panel closed between them.
Dick hurried into the garage. Thank goodness Bruce still kept a motorcycle down here.
Maybe, just maybe, Dick could be in time to keep anything serious from happening.
This was really interesting. After this, The Joker would never yell at him again. Hell,
after this, The Joker would give him a promotion!
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