#12: Hide & Seek (Burchette / Paugh / Villalobos)

Yes, Mr. Mayor, I’ll be right there,” James Gordon said as he placed the phone into its cradle and tried to quietly get out of bed. “Jim, you promised,” came the voice of his wife, from her side.

“I have to, Barb. That was the Mayor.”

“And Jimmy is your son! You promised me you’d spend the morning with him. He hasn’t seen you for more then twenty minutes at a time, for nearly a month now.”

Jim grabbed his glasses off the nightstand and started to get dressed, “I know that. Do you think it’s not bothering me? The Commissioner is missing and we have someone gunning for the Thorne Family. The entire department is falling apart right now.”

Barbara Gordon rolled away from him and drew the covers up around herself, “So is everything here, Jim.”

He stopped putting his tie on and stared at her back for a moment. Her words stung, and for a moment, he considered not going. Then he finished preparing himself and walked over to her side of the bed.

Kneeling in front of her he whispered, “I’ll do everything in my power to find the Commissioner as quick as I can. This isn’t making me happy either, you know.”

She rolled away from him again, choosing not to look at him, “Yes, it is. Going out there in the middle of all that chaos always makes you happy. You’re obviously the only one who doesn’t see it.”

James Gordon got up and left.

Carmine Falcone got into his limo with one of his chief lieutenants. He was running late for a dinner engagement, but what had happened to his men earlier that evening needed his full attention. Rupert Thorne had made a bad call, blaming him for his grandson’s death. A part of Carmine could not really blame him. If he were Thorne, he probably would have thought the same thing. However, he still had a job to do, and he still had to punish Thorne for the attack. The limo was heading east on Davis Avenue when it suddenly took a sharp turn to the right entering a desolate alley.
Falcone’s lieutenant brought out his gun and tapped on the glass that separated them from the driver. The partition did not come down and Falcone began to sweat as the limo suddenly stopped. They both waited, listening for any kind of sound, but there was nothing.

“You want me to go take a look, boss?”

Falcone sat there for a moment, his mind racing. Then he nodded slowly, pulling out his own gun.

The lieutenant flipped the switch and unlocked the door, opening it carefully and putting his head out enough to look down the alley. Falcone opened his mouth to ask him what he saw, when suddenly his lieutenant was yanked out by his neck. The door slammed shut and gunshots were fired… then silence.

The mob boss began to get restless. There wasn’t a sound, not even a sign of anyone outside anymore; yet, his gut was telling him that somebody was out there. He grabbed his cell phone and dialed a number. There were no sounds coming from the small device, either. He examined it and found it fully charged with a strong signal. Something was blocking it.

Just as he was about to reach for the phone in the car, the partition began to lower. Carmine reacted instinctively and began to fire into the front seat. When the glass was completely down he saw that no one was there. His eyes then went to the windshield and to the alley outside. That’s when he saw him. He was standing there in front of the car, his arms crossed and covering the bat symbol on his costume. They stared at each other for a moment. Batman then raised his hand and with one finger, motioned for Falcone to come to him.

Carmine Falcone opened his door and stepped out of the car. His nerves were shot, but anger replaced the terror he had just felt.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? I ain’t done nothin’, and you ain’t got a right to assault my employee.”

“Shut up,” Batman growled sharply. Falcone then sat silently as Batman went on. “I’m here to give you some advice, and you’d be wise to take it. I’m telling you not to retaliate against Thorne’s attack. You’re being set up, and who ever is doing it, wants you to attack. Stay out of this, keep to yourself until I bring in the real killer.”

“…And if I don’t?”

Batman took a step towards him and Falcone instinctively took a step back. “Don’t insult your own intelligence. You and I both know what would happen. You think I make your life miserable now, try disobeying me.”

Falcone’s face turned red, “Disobey? Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”

Something broke in front of Batman’s feet and he was surrounded by smoke. Falcone tried desperately to see where he had gone, but it was too thick. He heard a small popping noise. Then from somewhere in the middle of the smoke, came the capped crusaders harsh voice.

“I’m only telling you once, Falcone. This is my city, my rules. You better learn to follow them.”

There was another sound, a small whizzing noise, and from out of the top of the smoke, Batman flew upward and towards the rooftop above him.

“This is not your city, you freak! This is my city! Me! Carmine Falcone! You understand that?” But he knew that the bat was already gone.

From behind him, his lieutenant rose from the ground, rubbing his jaw. “What should we do, boss?”

Carmine chewed on his lower lip, his mind working quickly, looking at every angle. Finally, he replied. “Call off the hit on Thorne’s lieutenants. Let’s give that jerk what he wants… this time. Maybe for once this will work in our favor.”

The lieutenant nodded and turned to go back to the car when Carmine struck him from behind with the butt of his gun. The lieutenant fell to the ground, stunned. Carmine kicked him as he shouted at him.

“And this is for not checking the driver before we got in the car, you moron. Next time you fall down on the job like that, you ain’t getting back up! Get it? Now get off the ground and start driving.”

Gordon and Bullock walked hurriedly through the hallway of the G.C.P.D both of them with a mission. A young secretary waved Jim down to tell him he had a phone call from the field.

“Excuse me Harvey I’m gonna take that in my office.” Jim said walking away from his new partner without waiting for an answer. Bullock didn’t care or notice as his own cell phone was ringing.

“Gordon here, what have you got for me?” The police Lieutenant asked picking up the phone. His eyes squinted in concentration as the person on the other line gave him his answer.

“You don’t say…a pay phone at the Iceberg Lounge. Thank you, and…Sara if you could, keep this between us for now?” Gordon hung the phone up. He felt a draft coming from the window and he knew he was not alone. He looked out between the blinds at Harvey who was on his cell phone in the hallway and then made his way to the window.

“Cobblepot?” Batman asked as Jim leaned out of the window to look at him. Batman was perched on a fire escape.

“At least that’s where the call came from. A payphone, huh, didn’t think anyone used those anymore.” Jim said as he causally lit a cigarette. “We’ll head over there and check it out when it opens later.”

“We?” Batman inquired.

“Yeah, I got a partner on this case. Harvey Bullock.” Jim said the name with disgust.

Batman was silent for a moment, thinking about Bullock. “I’ll check it out before then. I’ll be in touch.” He finally said and leapt off onto the dark.

Gordon tossed his cigarette to the street below and blew out the last puff of smoked. “I knew you would.”

Batman stood on the roof, looking across at the top three floors of the Spaulding building. The top three floors of the building were home to the newest and fastest growing nightclub, The Iceberg Lounge. He examined the windows through his binoculars, looking for every conceivable way in. He had broken in once, but he knew that Copplepot was smart enough to figure out how he found his way the first time, and blocked that entrance. There was always another way, though…

The com-link in his cowl came on and the voice of his oldest friend came through the earpiece.

“Are you busy, Sir?”

“Yes,” Batman replied as he examined the dome shaped roof.

“Very good, Sir. Will you be returning at your usual time?”

“Uh huh,” he murmured as he caught site of the glass skylight that he had bypassed the first time.

“Then I shall prepare a suitable meal for your return.”

“Yes,” he replied absently as he put the binoculars away and readied his gun, preparing to shoot the line across to the Iceberg’s roof.

“Then I shall go into town and begin my day as a street mime,” came the now slightly irritated voice.

“Sounds good,” Batman mumbled as he fired the gun and proceeded to swing across the man made cavern that gaped between the two buildings.

He landed without a sound and retracted the line as Alfred spoke again, this time barley hiding the agitation. “Then I shall go to the bank and withdraw enough money to fund President Lord’s re-election campaign.”

Batman stopped as he was removing the security device of the skylight, “Alright, Alfred, you have my attention.”

“In that case Sir, I looked into the Spaulding Building like you asked, and it seems that it had been owned by The Spaulding Family since its construction fifty-two years ago that is, until last year. The last remaining member of the Spaulding family sold it to a private company by the name of Isis Moornam, Inc.”

“And what do we know about this company?”

“Not much now, I’m afraid. They are based in Zurich, and have holdings all over this country. They seem to be a very private corporation.”

“Keep digging, Alfred. I’m going to be maintaining radio silence for a while, Batman out.”

He finished unlocking the skylight and quietly lowered himself in. Perfect, he thought, right into Oswald’s office. He couldn’t have asked for better.

Pulling out a penlight he walked carefully around the room. It seemed clean, excessively clean, hardly anything on the desk, very few papers in the drawers. The books had to be somewhere in there.

He walked along the walls, tapping them quietly as he moved. On the south wall, he came to an extremely large portrait of Cobblepot. The man was grinning, wearing a top hat and monocle, an old-fashioned cigarette holder protruding from the corner of his mouth. Vanity, thy name is evil, the detective thought for a moment. Then he examined the picture again, and from under his cowl, an eyebrow arched. Was it that simple?

He took hold of the frame and pulled gently on it, until there was an audible click and the painting swung open. Leave it to Oswald Cobblepot to actually put a hidden safe behind a self-portrait. Well, old money, old ideas.

After taking a glance behind him, all senses straining for any noise at all, he pulled out a small listening device and placed it on the safe, bringing the other end onto his mask near his ear. It was the newest piece of equipment that Kord Industries had to offer, and Ted had personally delivered it to him right after they had met. He began to turn the knob, listening closely for the sounds of the tumblers as they fell into place. It took him less then two minutes to open it.

Looking through the safe, he found several bundles of American currency, all of one hundred dollars or higher. He also found two books, ledgers actually. Putting the pen light into his mouth, he began to skim over them. The first book was the numbers for the Iceberg. At a quick glance, it appeared that everything was in order. He set that book down and opened up the second ledger. This one, he was surprised to see. It was the numbers for an orphanage that Oswald had founded. It was obviously a small orphanage by the looks of things, but there were several entries of very large sums of cash that were into the account. No name, just the letters I.M.I.

He made a mental note to check on this orphanage and see just how this money was being used, if at all. He shut the book and placed it back in the safe, just as he heard the cocking of several weapons… automatics. He swore under his breath, he had been so involved in what he had been reading that he hadn’t noticed anyone entering, a rookie mistake.

“This is the second time I’ve caught you breaking and entering into my establishment,” the familiar voice said, followed by another one of those chortles that sounded disturbingly like a squawk.

Batman swung around to find he was facing down six men, all of them armed with Heckler & Koch XM8 machine guns, and all of them aimed right at him.

“I was able to forgive and forget the first time, Batman. Unfortunately, you have worn out my patience and good manners. Thank goodness, some of my bodyguards happened to be here when you broke in and tried to attack me. Goodbye, Batman, it is unfortunate that we weren’t able to get to know each other better. Gentlemen,” he said as he turned to his men, a cruel smile forming on his lips, “Kill him.”

The Penguin’s men took aim and fired…

To be continued!

“I’m sorry Dad! I’m sorry! I just wanted to do the right thing.”

“You have no idea what the right thing is, you little piece of…”

Whack!

“Not in the face! Please, not in his beautiful face,” his mother cried out while she cowered in the corner of the kitchen.

The man connected with another punch, this one in the stomach. The ten-year-old boy doubled over and immediately threw up. This caused another angry growl to come from his father and he grabbed the child by the back of the neck and forced him down onto the floor; his face smeared into the mess he had just made.

The boy couldn’t help but ask himself why. He had been at school. He had seen a smaller boy being harassed by much larger kids. He stepped in to stop them. He wanted to do the right thing. He didn’t mean to hit that bully so hard. In fact he really didn’t even remember doing it. All he wanted to do was the right thing.

Just take it. He’ll quit eventually and then everything will go back to normal for a while. It always does, doesn’t it? Just remember, someday it’ll be our turn.

The boy laid there and wondered who had said that. He could still hear his father yelling at him, his as his mother cried in the background. Though they both seemed to be far away now, but that other voice… it was very close. It drowned out everything else around him.

“Who are you?” he asked out loud.

His father swore, “Who the hell do you think I am, boy. I’m your goddamn father and one way or the other I’m going to show you what happens when you don’t listen to me. I’m tired of telling you not to fight at school.”

Real smart there, buddy. You don’t have to open your mouth to talk to me. I’m here… with you, always have been, always will be. In fact, close your eyes, and relax, let me do the driving for a while…

The young boy closed his eyes and the world drifted away, into peaceful darkness. Everything was happening outside of him now. He was watching it, but it really wasn’t him anymore, not in a way that really mattered. Even his father shouting his name as he shook him, was so far away, so remote, that he couldn’t help but smile, a smile that turned slightly into a sneer. This invoked his father’s wrath once again, and he was struck upside his head. He fell back onto the kitchen table, and then slumped to the ground. He was losing consciousness and was grateful for that.

“Harvey! Harvey!” came from his mother, and it was the last thing he heard.

“Hey, Harvey!” the young man shouted as he grabbed his fraternity brother by the shoulder and spun him around. “Is this one rockin’ party or what? The best we’ve had all year!”

A twenty one year old Harvey laughed and the beer in his hand sloshed over the side of his cup. “I’m telling you Chet, this is one hell of a way to go out… with a bang!”

A sly grin crossed the other man’s face. “You want to go out with a bang? Come with me my friend.”

Harvey allowed Chet to take him up the stairs of their fraternity house and into one of the back bedrooms. As the door opened he saw several of his brothers surrounding the bed of their Vice President. The sounds emanating from there were a mix of heavy breathing and soft whimpering; yet above those, were the sounds of laughter, and the voices of his fellow brothers, cheering on the Vice President.

His stomach tightened as he realized what he had just walked into. His fellow fraternity brothers gathered around the bed… line up… as it were. The inebriated young girl on the bed was no longer fighting, just lying there, crying softly. His eyes immediately went to the bruise on her face and her wrists.

Harvey Dent’s blood began to boil. He shoved his way through the group of young men and grabbed the leader, yanking him off the bed and onto the floor. The other guys stood shocked for a moment and then began to swear at him, offended that he had disrupted their fun.

They were drunk and angry, moving toward him and back him up against the wall. His anger had not ceased, even with the danger he was in, it just continued to grow.

“She was enjoying it, Dent!” One of them shouted.

“This is sick!” He shouted back. “Every one of you will be reported to the Dean and to the authorities.”

The largest guy in their fraternity took the lead, “I don’t think so. You’re going to keep your mouth shut, or else you’ll get worse then this.” He said as he swung his fist into Harvey’s face, knocking out his two front teeth and staggering him back into the wall.

“You hit me in the face, you son of a bitch!” Harvey bellowed as he took a swing back. Unfortunately he missed as the other guy ducked.

The guy came back with an upper cut and Harvey’s head snapped back and hit the wall hard. The room started to spin, and he began to feel nauseous. That was when his old friend spoke to him for the first time in five years.

You ain’t gettin out of this one on your own pretty boy. Time to relax and let me help.

“… But I don’t want you too,” he cried out with fear in his voice for the first time.

“Who the hell is he talking too?” Someone asked.

“Who cares, just make sure our brother gets the mess…”

That was all the young man said for four months. When the police finally were called, his jaw was broken and his mouth was wired shut. The others faired just as badly.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?”

“Yes, your Honor, we have.”

“Will the foreman please stand and read the verdict to this court.”

“We the people find all seven defendants, not guilty.”

There was uproar from the viewing box, and the judge began to pound on his gavel, bellowing an order for silence. The seven college seniors, who had already been standing, jumped up in the air and began to hug each other, slapping each other on the back. The crowd was already leaving, with the reporters in the lead. The judge finished his job and the men were allowed to leave.

Harvey Dent sat stunned at the outcome. He had been a material witness! He had seen the whole thing go down. He had the bruises and the cuts to prove it. As his old college friends began to filter out, Chet stopped and smirked at Harvey’s dropped jaw.

“I told you pal, my Daddy has enough connections to keep me and the boys out of prison for the rest of our lives. Too bad you don’t know what it’s like to have that kind of power, Dent. Maybe then you would have realized how futile this whole thing was and you would have dropped it. Oh, and don’t worry, we’ve all decided not to press assault charges. We know how bad it would hurt your career as an attorney.”

Harvey watched Chet walk out of the courtroom and the anger came flooding back into him.

Told you this was a waste of time. You’ve never really listened to me, though, have you?

“Please go away,” Harvey murmured under his breath.

Okay, but the times coming Harv, when you’re going to realize that the law just doesn’t work. Hell, you’d probably be better off working for the other side. It sure seems a lot more fun; and you win more.

“Please go away,” he practically begged.

Sure, buddy o’ pal. But don’t you worry. The time is going to come when you really need me. And have no fear, I’ll be there… waiting.