She looked at herself in the mirror.
The bikini was a little more revealing than what she normally wore.
Actually, it was a great deal more revealing; she was more far modest than that.
Still, it would have been out-of-place to be haunting the grounds of a beach hotel in the tropics wearing clothes that she would have felt comfortable with.
She smiled.
Although it was certainly not her desire to exploit the fact -- indeed, as modest as she was, it was difficult for her to even admit the fact -- she did have a nice figure. Her constant athletic activity honed and developed a gift of nature that was hers: she was beautiful.
Her ex-husband had commented on that many times. For all his faults -- and they had been many -- he was sweet at times, and there had also been a great deal to admire and appreciate about him.
She sighed.
Now she was here.
She looked around the hotel.
It was nice, but not the kind she was accustomed to when she was escorting him. People would have expected to have found him in a five-star hotel, renting the very best suite.
Instead, he and she had adjoining rooms on the top floor of what was advertised as a four-star hotel, although she wondered if it really was more than a three-star hotel.
He had not wanted adjoining rooms, as he was still trying to keep a certain professional distance from her, but she pointed out that adjoining rooms would permit one to help the other in the event of a problem.
She had to phrase it like that, because, although she was his bodyguard, he had a very powerful chivalrous streak in him, and it would rub him wrong if she said it was so she could protect him, so she had to make it sound like it was a mutual thing; besides which, since he had taken her into his confidence and invited her to assist him on his missions, there had definitely developed a reciprocity in their interactions which transcended the official description of her job on file in the personnel office of Wayne Enterprises.
She wrapped an article of clothing around her. She had no idea what it was called, it was like a dress -- half a dress, really, maybe only a third -- and it was mostly transparent, but it made her feel less immodest in her bikini. She then put on a wide hat to protect herself from the intense sun, which beat down from above and blasted in as reflected light off the sea and the surrounding white buildings, she put on her sunglasses, picked up a beach towel, and headed towards the door.
Maria, with whom she shared the room, smiled and held the door for her.
Maria was another employee of Wayne Enterprises, accompanying the team because, as a native speaker of Spanish, her skills were indispensable on this particular mission.
She looked at Maria and nodded. "Thanks," she said, the smile half disappearing as she studied Maria again momentarily. With a dark complexion, black hair and dark brown eyes, and a tremendous figure, Maria was stunningly beautiful.
Why, she wondered, were there so many beautiful women around him all the time? Did he plan it, or did it just happen that way? Or, maybe, somebody else planned it for him? Lucius? Surely not Alfred!
She shook her head and hurried through the door.
As she approached the elevator, one of the hotel employees smiled and greeted her.
"¡Buenos días! ¿Dónde está mi esposo?" she asked, haltingly, trying her Spanish.
"Señor Malone está por la piscina," came the smiling response.
"'In the office'?" She looked at him questioningly.
"The pool," he said in English.
She smiled, blushed, and hurried off.
Apparent confusion is the product of good order; apparent fear is the product of bravery; and apparent weakness is the product of strength.
He considered the words, deep in thought, gazing out at the sea from his chair under the big umbrella.
"Good morning, Señor Malone!", the waiter smiled at him, setting a glass of tangerine juice and a cup of coffee on the small table next to him.
The large figure glanced up from the tropical sea, surprised, and nodded at the waiter, then looked back down at his book.
So, those skilled at making an enemy move do so by causing a situation to which he must conform; they entice him with something he is certain to take, and, holding the promise of tremendous profit, they await their enemy in strength.
Lucius walked through the facility. It was Saturday morning, but in the high-security area of the Wayne Enterprises research facility, there was a full crew of personnel, and they were busy.
Before leaving on vacation -- with quite a contingent of Wayne Enterprises personnel, including security people -- Bruce had asked for some special new equipment. In an off-handed way, right as he was leaving, he mentioned that it would be nice to have a Batsuit that could keep him alive in a furnace, then, after the briefest of pauses, he laughed and said that was probably impossible.
Of course, the technicians took that as a challenge, and now, when Bruce got back from vacation, he would get his Christmas presents from the staff. They had set up a Christmas tree in the basement workshop of Wayne Enterprises, and, under it, there was a completely-redesigned Batmobile, a new Batbot, and not one but two new Batsuits, both of which had tested as impervious to multiple hits from grenade launchers and to extended attacks from flamethrowers.
It was late evening already, but the fortune-teller and the master were deep in a conversation.
For all his training, for all his knowledge and understanding, for all that he had and for all he had passed on to his disciple, his conversations with the fortune-teller filled a gap that needed to be filled
"It was written anciently, 'Therefore, one able to achieve victory by modifying his tactics in accordance with the enemy situation may be said to be divine.' Is this not among your teachings?"
He looked at the fortune-teller. "Yes, it is," he answered, serving her some more tea. "'Of the earth's elements,'" he continued where she had left off, "'none is always predominant; of the four seasons, none lasts forever; of the days, some are long and some are short, and the moon waxes and wanes.'"
These conversations with the fortune-teller reminded the master of who he had always been, and helped him to not worry -- because he knew something was up, and it was something worth worrying about.
She approached him, but he was so caught up reading his book, he didn't even notice her; although he was on a beautiful tropical beach (surrounded by beautiful women, she noted), his book took him somewhere else, and she wondered where that was and why anyone would be so driven to be there and not here.
"Good morning, Bruce!"
Hurriedly, he looked up. "Good morning, Sasha." He smiled warmly at her, but just as quickly disappeared off into his distant place inside his book.
She looked at it. She had heard of it before. It was a translation of a work by someone called Sun Tzu.
There was no fixed date for the return, but Lucius knew it couldn't be much longer. Still, it had already lasted longer than anyone had anticipated, and Lucius was pleased and hoping it would last until the New Year.
He looked around the facility where, in a scene reminiscent of Santa's workshop, Wayne Enterprises technicians, complete with red-and-white tassel hats, were busy fabricating and testing new "toys" for their employer and, looking around, he knew, sooner or later, it would end.
Sooner or later, Bruce Wayne's long-needed vacation would end, Bruce would come back to Gotham City, and when he did, Batman would be back with a vengeance.
And, Lucius thought, in his mind reviewing what he knew about the situation in Gotham City, when Batman came back, there would be hell to pay.
Showing posts with label Gotham City. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gotham City. Show all posts
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Remember, Part 2
"What else is interesting regarding the Gotham Trade Center attack is the immense number of trades that were run through the computers in the brokerages housed in the Gotham Towers during the attack." Nygma looked, as his partner pulled out more graphs and charts. "While everyone was trying to escape death in those towering infernos, while Gotham firefighters were running up dozens of flights of stairs to save the people in the upper floors, the computers were unattended, with no one monitoring the trading."
Gordon remembered that day. He had been on the scene, helping to establish a command post not far from the Gotham Trade Center.
"They were laundering money – by the billions," Nygma whispered. "Then, despite being over-engineered for just such a catastrophe, both the Gotham Towers collapsed, as did a third skyscraper in the Gotham Trade Center, later that day."
"As you can see from these photos, the buildings were imploded, Inspector," Callahan picked up. "This destroyed the evidence of the money laundering, burying the computers that the trades had been run through in mountains of debris. The third building housed regulatory and enforcement agencies; destroying their offices ensured there would be no real investigation of the evidence buried in the rubble."
With someone honest in the mayor's office, Bruce Wayne thought, Falcone would be brought down, Gotham City would be able to deal with Aladdin, and hundreds of thousands of people – perhaps millions – would live.
He thought back to the financial and economic crisis Gotham City was now facing, and how Edward Nygma and Linda Callahan had traced it back... just as the attack on the Gotham Towers had been used as a cover for money-laundering and financial empire-building, so was this happening now under the cover of a different kind of crisis. On the surface, it looked so very different, but underneath, it was the very same thing!
"Batman! Hell, he's becoming a folk hero in Gotham," Nygma commented, as Dawes and Gordon exchanged glances.
The remark caught Bruce Wayne's attention.
"I bet if his name were on the ballot, he'd win by a landslide," Callahan agreed.
Dawes and Gordon again exchanged glances. Bruce Wayne was not sure about Rachel, but he knew Jim Gordon agreed, deep inside. More than that....
But, somewhere in the back of Bruce Wayne's mind, something lurked just beyond his consciousness....
They looked glorious and majestic, light-colored towers against the deep blue sky.
Something was wrong.
There was a fire.
No, there were two fires, one in each tower, high up.
People were trapped above the fires.
"The fire department. Call the fire department," Wayne said urgently.
"The fire department is already responding," a voice came from behind him. The voice was soothing, familiar -- it was his mother. Martha Wayne's voice continued, "Several companies of firefighters are on the scene, and more are on the way."
Wayne felt a little reassured. There would be some deaths, but those buildings could withstand any fire, and the fire department would soon have the fires put out. Some people would die, but most would live and, in time, things would be okay again, and life in Gotham would go on.
"Pull it."
The cold, masculine voice came from behind him, and Wayne looked in horror as first one tower, then the other, collapsed. Hundreds of firefighters and emergency workers, plus thousands more innocent people, trapped....
The buildings fell... they fell forever....
The people fell... they fell forever....
Giant clouds of pulverized concrete enveloped Gotham City in a thick blanket of dust as the Gotham Towers came down.
"Pull the other one, too," the cold, masculine voice from behind him commanded, and another building, near the first two, but emptied of its people, collapsed as well.
Bruce looked around... those grand, indestructible structures, the pride of Gotham, were now so much dust and rubble....
The people that had been inside were dead, their fragile bodies broken, their blood running in the gutters of Gotham City.
Bruce wanted to cry, but was unable. "Mom?" he gasped.
"The danger is not past, Bruce," his mother's voice answered.
Bruce looked. Some men had an object, and they were moving it into place in Gotham City.
The object was a piece of equipment of some sort, some kind of container.
"Now it's Gotham's turn to touch the sun," the cold voice came again from behind him.
Bruce looked at the container... inside it was the power of the sun!
"Bruce... don't be afraid."
Bruce looked; it was his father, Dr. Thomas Wayne. "This disaster can still be prevented. Just don't be afraid."
"What must I do?"
"You can stay with me," came the answer from his left. Bruce looked. It was the Eurasian girl from the market they had passed through on their way to the train station. "I cannot ignore my earthly desires," she added, approaching him.
He looked again at Gotham City. Whatever the men were doing, it was about to happen. They were about to unleash the power of the sun to destroy Gotham City!
It was well after midnight, and Alfred had stopped in to the Batcave to see what could possibly be keeping Master Bruce.
He peered into the shadows.
Bruce Wayne was asleep in his chair in front of the Batcomputer.
He looked comfortable, it was warm near the Batcomputer, and Master Bruce didn't sleep enough, Alfred reasoned. Better to leave him where he was.
Bruce ran to stop them, but he couldn't possibly get there fast enough.
He had to fly!
He flew.... His robes became wings.
He looked at his wings -- they were black! His whole body was black and rubbery. Bruce Wayne was a bat!
He flew at the men.
Too late, the men noticed him. They looked up at him. They were terrified!
Some ran away, others drew weapons. They fired at him, but to no effect.
He swooped down on the men, again and again, and they panicked and ran. They turned upon each other, they killed each other, deliberately and accidentally; the survivors scattered, fleeing for their lives.
Their plan had come to nothing; the sun was safely inside the box, and Gotham City was safe from the men.
Bruce landed, satisfied.
The giant, glorious city in front of him became a light, and a figure walked towards him out of the light.
The figure was the Son of the Emperor of Heaven, and the light behind Him was His Father!
Bruce fell to his knees before the figure, as the figure said to him, "When the time comes, you will remember this vision, and the men who seek to do this thing will learn of My Father's indignation."
The figure stretched his hand forward towards Bruce. "You did not choose Me," the figure declared, "I chose you."
The noise woke him up. He looked around the Batcave. It had to be the raccoons, he thought, as he settled back into his chair.
Anyway, there was something there, in the back of his mind... just out of reach... what was it...? The Gotham Trade Center... a financial meltdown... Aladdin's ties to the mayor's office and to the city council... Falcone... heroin... Ra's al Ghul... forced prostitution... illegal arms sales....
He turned again toward the noise, and saw The Ancient standing behind him.
Standing up, he greeted The Ancient, but The Ancient just smiled.
Then, The Ancient stretched his arm out toward him.
Touching Bruce Wayne's forehead, he softly whispered, "Remember."
Gordon remembered that day. He had been on the scene, helping to establish a command post not far from the Gotham Trade Center.
"They were laundering money – by the billions," Nygma whispered. "Then, despite being over-engineered for just such a catastrophe, both the Gotham Towers collapsed, as did a third skyscraper in the Gotham Trade Center, later that day."
"As you can see from these photos, the buildings were imploded, Inspector," Callahan picked up. "This destroyed the evidence of the money laundering, burying the computers that the trades had been run through in mountains of debris. The third building housed regulatory and enforcement agencies; destroying their offices ensured there would be no real investigation of the evidence buried in the rubble."
With someone honest in the mayor's office, Bruce Wayne thought, Falcone would be brought down, Gotham City would be able to deal with Aladdin, and hundreds of thousands of people – perhaps millions – would live.
He thought back to the financial and economic crisis Gotham City was now facing, and how Edward Nygma and Linda Callahan had traced it back... just as the attack on the Gotham Towers had been used as a cover for money-laundering and financial empire-building, so was this happening now under the cover of a different kind of crisis. On the surface, it looked so very different, but underneath, it was the very same thing!
"Batman! Hell, he's becoming a folk hero in Gotham," Nygma commented, as Dawes and Gordon exchanged glances.
The remark caught Bruce Wayne's attention.
"I bet if his name were on the ballot, he'd win by a landslide," Callahan agreed.
Dawes and Gordon again exchanged glances. Bruce Wayne was not sure about Rachel, but he knew Jim Gordon agreed, deep inside. More than that....
But, somewhere in the back of Bruce Wayne's mind, something lurked just beyond his consciousness....
They looked glorious and majestic, light-colored towers against the deep blue sky.
Something was wrong.
There was a fire.
No, there were two fires, one in each tower, high up.
People were trapped above the fires.
"The fire department. Call the fire department," Wayne said urgently.
"The fire department is already responding," a voice came from behind him. The voice was soothing, familiar -- it was his mother. Martha Wayne's voice continued, "Several companies of firefighters are on the scene, and more are on the way."
Wayne felt a little reassured. There would be some deaths, but those buildings could withstand any fire, and the fire department would soon have the fires put out. Some people would die, but most would live and, in time, things would be okay again, and life in Gotham would go on.
"Pull it."
The cold, masculine voice came from behind him, and Wayne looked in horror as first one tower, then the other, collapsed. Hundreds of firefighters and emergency workers, plus thousands more innocent people, trapped....
The buildings fell... they fell forever....
The people fell... they fell forever....
Giant clouds of pulverized concrete enveloped Gotham City in a thick blanket of dust as the Gotham Towers came down.
"Pull the other one, too," the cold, masculine voice from behind him commanded, and another building, near the first two, but emptied of its people, collapsed as well.
Bruce looked around... those grand, indestructible structures, the pride of Gotham, were now so much dust and rubble....
The people that had been inside were dead, their fragile bodies broken, their blood running in the gutters of Gotham City.
Bruce wanted to cry, but was unable. "Mom?" he gasped.
"The danger is not past, Bruce," his mother's voice answered.
Bruce looked. Some men had an object, and they were moving it into place in Gotham City.
The object was a piece of equipment of some sort, some kind of container.
"Now it's Gotham's turn to touch the sun," the cold voice came again from behind him.
Bruce looked at the container... inside it was the power of the sun!
"Bruce... don't be afraid."
Bruce looked; it was his father, Dr. Thomas Wayne. "This disaster can still be prevented. Just don't be afraid."
"What must I do?"
"You can stay with me," came the answer from his left. Bruce looked. It was the Eurasian girl from the market they had passed through on their way to the train station. "I cannot ignore my earthly desires," she added, approaching him.
He looked again at Gotham City. Whatever the men were doing, it was about to happen. They were about to unleash the power of the sun to destroy Gotham City!
It was well after midnight, and Alfred had stopped in to the Batcave to see what could possibly be keeping Master Bruce.
He peered into the shadows.
Bruce Wayne was asleep in his chair in front of the Batcomputer.
He looked comfortable, it was warm near the Batcomputer, and Master Bruce didn't sleep enough, Alfred reasoned. Better to leave him where he was.
Bruce ran to stop them, but he couldn't possibly get there fast enough.
He had to fly!
He flew.... His robes became wings.
He looked at his wings -- they were black! His whole body was black and rubbery. Bruce Wayne was a bat!
He flew at the men.
Too late, the men noticed him. They looked up at him. They were terrified!
Some ran away, others drew weapons. They fired at him, but to no effect.
He swooped down on the men, again and again, and they panicked and ran. They turned upon each other, they killed each other, deliberately and accidentally; the survivors scattered, fleeing for their lives.
Their plan had come to nothing; the sun was safely inside the box, and Gotham City was safe from the men.
Bruce landed, satisfied.
The giant, glorious city in front of him became a light, and a figure walked towards him out of the light.
The figure was the Son of the Emperor of Heaven, and the light behind Him was His Father!
Bruce fell to his knees before the figure, as the figure said to him, "When the time comes, you will remember this vision, and the men who seek to do this thing will learn of My Father's indignation."
The figure stretched his hand forward towards Bruce. "You did not choose Me," the figure declared, "I chose you."
The noise woke him up. He looked around the Batcave. It had to be the raccoons, he thought, as he settled back into his chair.
Anyway, there was something there, in the back of his mind... just out of reach... what was it...? The Gotham Trade Center... a financial meltdown... Aladdin's ties to the mayor's office and to the city council... Falcone... heroin... Ra's al Ghul... forced prostitution... illegal arms sales....
He turned again toward the noise, and saw The Ancient standing behind him.
Standing up, he greeted The Ancient, but The Ancient just smiled.
Then, The Ancient stretched his arm out toward him.
Touching Bruce Wayne's forehead, he softly whispered, "Remember."
Friday, October 24, 2008
Remember, Part 1
The figure sat in the shadows, illuminated by the glow from the multifunction displays in front of him.
It was quiet, and behind him, the faintest of noises could just be discerned.
He turned and looked, catching a glimpse of a shadowy figure off behind some equipment.
He smiled. The raccoons could be quite... what was the word he was looking for?
It was now after midnight, and his thoughts drifted back to the events of what was now the previous day.
"Inspector Gordon, good to see you again!" Rachel Dawes greeted the head of Gotham City's interagency task force to bring in Batman.
"Hi, how you doing?" Gordon sounded somewhat tired.
Rachel glanced at her watch; it was almost noon. She knew that often his response could be misunderstood by people, who thought him detached and at times a little gruff. Of course, she knew him a little better than most people. Both Rachel Dawes and Jim Gordon had been friends of Bruce Wayne since Rachel and Bruce were kids, and since Jim Gordon was just a patrolman in the Gotham Police Department. Rachel spent some time with Bruce in the wake of the deaths of Bruce's parents, and Officer Gordon had taken a special interest in young Bruce Wayne; Gordon was the first officer on the scene of the murders, and checked in on young Bruce periodically, especially in the first months after the deaths.
"I'm not sure about the case against this Batman. Witnesses have him killing several people, but the witnesses are themselves thugs from Gotham's underworld. They have long police records, and the most interesting part is that they themselves admit that the people Batman killed were in the midst of committing multiple felonies when Batman killed them. Furthermore, for at least half the counts, the people Batman killed were trying to kill Batman...."
"Justifiable homicide," interrupted Gordon.
"We could get him on weapons charges...." Dawes said tentatively.
"We could get him for speeding, too," interrupted Gordon, "but somehow, considering everything that is going on in Gotham City, I think our attention should be focused elsewhere."
There was a pause, then the elevator door opened.
"Right this way, Jim," Rachel began to address him by his first name. "Bruce is expecting us in the room at the end of the hallway. It has such a wonderful view of Gotham City," she added cheerfully.
Gordon looked at her. Each of them had been there before, having lunch with Bruce Wayne; seldom, though, had they been there together.
"This 'Riddler'," Alfred began, "had to have known something about this impending economic crisis."
Bruce Wayne looked at Alfred.
"He wasn't just helping us understand what had already happened; he was alerting us to what would happen."
Alfred studied the look on Master Bruce's face. There were times when Bruce Wayne kept silent, and it was hard to tell if he heard and understood things, his mind racing ahead in leaps and bounds making connections that Alfred had not yet thought of, or if he was merely daydreaming.
It was late, Alfred thought – Master Bruce had had a long day today, including an important lunch with Inspector Gordon and several others. Perhaps he was just tired.
"Jim Gordon. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Nygma, Miss Callahan."
They shook hands and sat down.
Bruce Wayne looked casually around the table. Edward Nygma, who had been an investigative reporter and had done so much research into the events surrounding the attack on the Gotham Trade Center, together with Linda Callahan, an independent investigative reporter who had been researching corruption in Gotham City's law enforcement community, were sitting down at a table with Inspector Jim Gordon of the Gotham Police Department, and with Assistant Deputy District Attorney Rachel Dawes.
"If you remember your history," Nygma began, "something similar happened in 1873. There had been a boom in railroad construction, which turned out to be a bubble – too much investment in an industry yielding returns that were too long-term. A major Gotham financial institution had been a heavy investor in the Gotham Westward Railway, but when Gotham Westward's stock prices fell, its stock and corporate bonds were no longer worth as much. That financial institution was one of many that found itself in trouble. The stock market went down so far and so fast, that at the end of September and the beginning of October, the Gotham Stock Exchange actually closed for two weeks. Hundreds of businesses failed in Gotham, construction work lagged, there were layoffs, wages were cut...."
Gordon and Dawes were captivated as Nygma explained, tag-teaming with Callahan, the history of economic crises in Gotham City.
Wayne smiled. He knew that Special Agent Nicholas Kyle of the Gotham Bureau of Investigation, who was one of Falcone's key men inside Gotham's law enforcement community, was now an informant reporting to Inspector Gordon. He also knew that Detective Sergeant O'Hara, a very trusted member of Gordon's team, had been interviewing Vasilissa quite extensively – and Vasilissa had extensive knowledge about the inside workings of Gotham's underworld. The pieces of the puzzle were in place; the stage was set for Falcone's empire to come crashing down, and for Aladdin and his Mujahideen then to be dealt a terrible blow from which they would not soon recover.
"The Crisis of 1893 was similar, and in many ways grew out of the 1873 crisis," Linda Callahan picked up. "There had been a 'railroad bubble', similar to the 'tech bubble' that Gotham City experienced in the last decade. Railroads had overbuilt, and in an effort to take over their competitors, they placed themselves in dangerous financial positions. The crisis with the railroads impacted not just investors who held stock and corporate bonds from the railroads, but it also impacted the economy, which was heavily dependent upon rail transport. A credit crunch rippled through the Gotham economy, and there were runs on banks, much like we see today...."
True, Wayne thought – Ra's al Ghul would probably escape. But, based on Wayne's conversations with Talia, daughter of Ra's al Ghul, it seemed she now was leaning away from him. Ra's al Ghul had at first abandoned his other daughter, Nyssa Raatko, to her fate – abducted and raped, she was forced into prostitution in Gotham City, but now, as a high-class call-girl named "Vasilissa", she was giving valuable inside information that would disable the tentacles Ra's al Ghul was using to manipulate Gotham City and steer it on a course to its destruction. Moreover, Nyssa was winning over her half-sister, Talia, driving a wedge between Talia and their father. While he might escape, Ra's al Ghul would take a long time to rebuild his organization in Gotham City, and he would be doing so without some key players that would be hard to replace – including his very own daughter, Talia.
"These financial crises happen periodically. What is different in more modern crises," Nygma explained, as Callahan pulled out files with graphs, statistics and illustrations, "is that, for the past century, Gotham City had a regulatory commission, whose board of governors is supposed to monitor the credit situation in Gotham City's financial circles, identify potential problems, and take action to isolate such problems before they can have a wider effect in Gotham City. Despite this, we continue to have more crises – the financial world develops faster than regulators can keep up with it, and, in any case, there is always a way around regulation."
Linda Callahan nodded. "Legislation is reactive, not proactive," she added. "It will never keep up with new, inventive ways to game the system."
"Exactly," Edward Nygma agreed. "What is interesting, though, are the parallels between the financial activity surrounding the attack on the Gotham Trade Center seven years ago, and the financial activity in the midst of our crisis today."
Gordon and Dawes exchanged glances.
"Law enforcement, especially the Gotham Bureau of Investigation, had general information that an attack was coming, that it would be arson, and so on. Despite this, Gotham authorities issued no warnings about the attack. Later, the mayor said no one had predicted an attack that Tuesday morning, and that statement was accurate only because he qualified it." Linda had them captivated. "Similarly, although many economists commented on the impending crisis we now face, the regulatory commission's board of governors took no effective action to prevent it."
"The causes were different," Nygma picked up. "In one case, it was an arson attack; in the other, a banking bubble. But, the opportunity was the same: chaos in the financial sector, its impact on futures, options, short-selling – competition to be taken over or bankrupted, fortunes to be made. Now, in the case of the attack on the Gotham Trade Center, these graphs show stock trading that occurred before and after the attack. As you look long-term, spectacular profits were made by some who seemed to know, a year or more in advance, what sectors of Gotham's financial world would be impacted, and how – and this is happening again today."
Linda Callahan looked at Inspector Jim Gordon and Assistant Deputy District Attorney Rachel Dawes. They were paying close attention, and seemed very interested as Edward Nygma reviewed the current crisis, drawing parallels to financial moves made at the time of the arson attack on the Gotham Trade Center just seven short years ago. She glanced at Bruce Wayne – he seemed to be off in his own little world.
The only problem, Bruce Wayne thought, was the corruption in Gotham City's elected elite. The mayor and both of the men who wanted to replace him were deep in Falcone's pockets, whether they realized it or not. Gotham City needed an honest mayor. Aladdin wanted to destroy Gotham City, and had the means to do so, but Falcone's tentacles kept Gotham City from dealing with Aladdin. Ra's al Ghul was determined to manipulate Falcone, Aladdin and the mayor's office, so there would be no adequate response to the threat posed by Aladdin; Aladdin would devastate Gotham City with his nuclear weapons, and Ra's al Ghul would disappear back into the underworld, his mission accomplished.
It was quiet, and behind him, the faintest of noises could just be discerned.
He turned and looked, catching a glimpse of a shadowy figure off behind some equipment.
He smiled. The raccoons could be quite... what was the word he was looking for?
It was now after midnight, and his thoughts drifted back to the events of what was now the previous day.
"Inspector Gordon, good to see you again!" Rachel Dawes greeted the head of Gotham City's interagency task force to bring in Batman.
"Hi, how you doing?" Gordon sounded somewhat tired.
Rachel glanced at her watch; it was almost noon. She knew that often his response could be misunderstood by people, who thought him detached and at times a little gruff. Of course, she knew him a little better than most people. Both Rachel Dawes and Jim Gordon had been friends of Bruce Wayne since Rachel and Bruce were kids, and since Jim Gordon was just a patrolman in the Gotham Police Department. Rachel spent some time with Bruce in the wake of the deaths of Bruce's parents, and Officer Gordon had taken a special interest in young Bruce Wayne; Gordon was the first officer on the scene of the murders, and checked in on young Bruce periodically, especially in the first months after the deaths.
"I'm not sure about the case against this Batman. Witnesses have him killing several people, but the witnesses are themselves thugs from Gotham's underworld. They have long police records, and the most interesting part is that they themselves admit that the people Batman killed were in the midst of committing multiple felonies when Batman killed them. Furthermore, for at least half the counts, the people Batman killed were trying to kill Batman...."
"Justifiable homicide," interrupted Gordon.
"We could get him on weapons charges...." Dawes said tentatively.
"We could get him for speeding, too," interrupted Gordon, "but somehow, considering everything that is going on in Gotham City, I think our attention should be focused elsewhere."
There was a pause, then the elevator door opened.
"Right this way, Jim," Rachel began to address him by his first name. "Bruce is expecting us in the room at the end of the hallway. It has such a wonderful view of Gotham City," she added cheerfully.
Gordon looked at her. Each of them had been there before, having lunch with Bruce Wayne; seldom, though, had they been there together.
"This 'Riddler'," Alfred began, "had to have known something about this impending economic crisis."
Bruce Wayne looked at Alfred.
"He wasn't just helping us understand what had already happened; he was alerting us to what would happen."
Alfred studied the look on Master Bruce's face. There were times when Bruce Wayne kept silent, and it was hard to tell if he heard and understood things, his mind racing ahead in leaps and bounds making connections that Alfred had not yet thought of, or if he was merely daydreaming.
It was late, Alfred thought – Master Bruce had had a long day today, including an important lunch with Inspector Gordon and several others. Perhaps he was just tired.
"Jim Gordon. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Nygma, Miss Callahan."
They shook hands and sat down.
Bruce Wayne looked casually around the table. Edward Nygma, who had been an investigative reporter and had done so much research into the events surrounding the attack on the Gotham Trade Center, together with Linda Callahan, an independent investigative reporter who had been researching corruption in Gotham City's law enforcement community, were sitting down at a table with Inspector Jim Gordon of the Gotham Police Department, and with Assistant Deputy District Attorney Rachel Dawes.
"If you remember your history," Nygma began, "something similar happened in 1873. There had been a boom in railroad construction, which turned out to be a bubble – too much investment in an industry yielding returns that were too long-term. A major Gotham financial institution had been a heavy investor in the Gotham Westward Railway, but when Gotham Westward's stock prices fell, its stock and corporate bonds were no longer worth as much. That financial institution was one of many that found itself in trouble. The stock market went down so far and so fast, that at the end of September and the beginning of October, the Gotham Stock Exchange actually closed for two weeks. Hundreds of businesses failed in Gotham, construction work lagged, there were layoffs, wages were cut...."
Gordon and Dawes were captivated as Nygma explained, tag-teaming with Callahan, the history of economic crises in Gotham City.
Wayne smiled. He knew that Special Agent Nicholas Kyle of the Gotham Bureau of Investigation, who was one of Falcone's key men inside Gotham's law enforcement community, was now an informant reporting to Inspector Gordon. He also knew that Detective Sergeant O'Hara, a very trusted member of Gordon's team, had been interviewing Vasilissa quite extensively – and Vasilissa had extensive knowledge about the inside workings of Gotham's underworld. The pieces of the puzzle were in place; the stage was set for Falcone's empire to come crashing down, and for Aladdin and his Mujahideen then to be dealt a terrible blow from which they would not soon recover.
"The Crisis of 1893 was similar, and in many ways grew out of the 1873 crisis," Linda Callahan picked up. "There had been a 'railroad bubble', similar to the 'tech bubble' that Gotham City experienced in the last decade. Railroads had overbuilt, and in an effort to take over their competitors, they placed themselves in dangerous financial positions. The crisis with the railroads impacted not just investors who held stock and corporate bonds from the railroads, but it also impacted the economy, which was heavily dependent upon rail transport. A credit crunch rippled through the Gotham economy, and there were runs on banks, much like we see today...."
True, Wayne thought – Ra's al Ghul would probably escape. But, based on Wayne's conversations with Talia, daughter of Ra's al Ghul, it seemed she now was leaning away from him. Ra's al Ghul had at first abandoned his other daughter, Nyssa Raatko, to her fate – abducted and raped, she was forced into prostitution in Gotham City, but now, as a high-class call-girl named "Vasilissa", she was giving valuable inside information that would disable the tentacles Ra's al Ghul was using to manipulate Gotham City and steer it on a course to its destruction. Moreover, Nyssa was winning over her half-sister, Talia, driving a wedge between Talia and their father. While he might escape, Ra's al Ghul would take a long time to rebuild his organization in Gotham City, and he would be doing so without some key players that would be hard to replace – including his very own daughter, Talia.
"These financial crises happen periodically. What is different in more modern crises," Nygma explained, as Callahan pulled out files with graphs, statistics and illustrations, "is that, for the past century, Gotham City had a regulatory commission, whose board of governors is supposed to monitor the credit situation in Gotham City's financial circles, identify potential problems, and take action to isolate such problems before they can have a wider effect in Gotham City. Despite this, we continue to have more crises – the financial world develops faster than regulators can keep up with it, and, in any case, there is always a way around regulation."
Linda Callahan nodded. "Legislation is reactive, not proactive," she added. "It will never keep up with new, inventive ways to game the system."
"Exactly," Edward Nygma agreed. "What is interesting, though, are the parallels between the financial activity surrounding the attack on the Gotham Trade Center seven years ago, and the financial activity in the midst of our crisis today."
Gordon and Dawes exchanged glances.
"Law enforcement, especially the Gotham Bureau of Investigation, had general information that an attack was coming, that it would be arson, and so on. Despite this, Gotham authorities issued no warnings about the attack. Later, the mayor said no one had predicted an attack that Tuesday morning, and that statement was accurate only because he qualified it." Linda had them captivated. "Similarly, although many economists commented on the impending crisis we now face, the regulatory commission's board of governors took no effective action to prevent it."
"The causes were different," Nygma picked up. "In one case, it was an arson attack; in the other, a banking bubble. But, the opportunity was the same: chaos in the financial sector, its impact on futures, options, short-selling – competition to be taken over or bankrupted, fortunes to be made. Now, in the case of the attack on the Gotham Trade Center, these graphs show stock trading that occurred before and after the attack. As you look long-term, spectacular profits were made by some who seemed to know, a year or more in advance, what sectors of Gotham's financial world would be impacted, and how – and this is happening again today."
Linda Callahan looked at Inspector Jim Gordon and Assistant Deputy District Attorney Rachel Dawes. They were paying close attention, and seemed very interested as Edward Nygma reviewed the current crisis, drawing parallels to financial moves made at the time of the arson attack on the Gotham Trade Center just seven short years ago. She glanced at Bruce Wayne – he seemed to be off in his own little world.
The only problem, Bruce Wayne thought, was the corruption in Gotham City's elected elite. The mayor and both of the men who wanted to replace him were deep in Falcone's pockets, whether they realized it or not. Gotham City needed an honest mayor. Aladdin wanted to destroy Gotham City, and had the means to do so, but Falcone's tentacles kept Gotham City from dealing with Aladdin. Ra's al Ghul was determined to manipulate Falcone, Aladdin and the mayor's office, so there would be no adequate response to the threat posed by Aladdin; Aladdin would devastate Gotham City with his nuclear weapons, and Ra's al Ghul would disappear back into the underworld, his mission accomplished.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
The Counterconspiracy: Heavenly Fury
"So what's that?"
Inspector Gordon looked at the evidence bag being held up by the narcotics lieutenant.
"Cigarettes laced with heroin."
Gordon looked at the lieutenant, then back at the evidence bag, as the lieutenant continued.
"It's the latest rage on the recreational drug scene in Gotham City. Teenagers are using this stuff, have been for over a year now that we've noticed. Read the advertising on the back of the package. It tells people they don't have to shoot-up... no more of the stigma associated with needles. Now they can use heroin and be suave and debonair – it's just like smoking, the package says." The lieutenant studied Gordon. "This heroin is very pure. Even experienced junkies aren't ready for it. Deaths by overdose have risen considerably."
Gordon took the evidence bag and looked closely at it. It looked like an ordinary pack of cigarettes, except that there, on the package, it did indeed claim to have heroin inside it. And, it actually argued the "advantages" of smoking heroin instead of injecting it.
Gordon looked back at the narcotics lieutenant.
"What is this? Some kind of joke?"
Gently, the lieutenant took the evidence bag from Gordon's hand, turned it around, and gave it back to him so Gordon could see the other side of the package.
Gordon studied it for a moment, then looked again at the narcotics lieutenant.
"'Joker' brand?" Inspector Gordon asked incredulously.
The master was walking through the village. It was early evening, and, despite his many years of training, despite his years of experience, despite the years he had spent mentoring others – especially the time he had spent with his special student from Gotham City – the master felt on edge.
He smiled to himself. Others he could teach to have patience, to be tranquil, but himself? How ironic he thought.
Nearing the edge of the village, he thought about the fortune-teller's hut. He had been going there quite regularly lately, seeking updates on their friend in Gotham City. Ordinarily, he would not have needed to; he could, perhaps, have found what he needed to know by reading the news on-line, coupled with a few emails exchanged with friends around the world, capped off with his own modest ability to perceive...
But, he thought, it takes still water to mirror that which is around it, and his own mind was anything but still these days.
He knew Bruce Wayne was busy, to say the least.
Resigning himself to his own imperfections, he glanced in the direction of the fortune-teller's hut.
She was outside talking to someone.
Was it...?
Yes, it was!
The master hurried over toward the fortune-teller's to greet her... and to greet The Ancient!
The two men were in the main lobby. Around the large room were interactive displays showcasing the cutting edge of Wayne Enterprises' technology.
Here and there in the lobby people hurried to an elevator or to the revolving doors at the front of the building.
The receptionist watched the people walking by. Occasionally, the security officer at the front desk would look at someone with no ID badge, and send that person to the receptionist to sign in.
Both the receptionist and the security officer glanced at the men looking at the interactive displays.
Bruce Wayne, flanked by Lucius Fox and another man, came out of one of the elevators. A security officer quietly greeted him, and nodded toward the two men.
As they approached the two men, the men turned to face them, pulling out their identification.
"Mr. Wayne, Mr. Fox. I am Special Agent DiViglio of the Gotham Bureau of Investigation. This is my partner, Special Agent Kyle."
"How do you do?" Wayne smiled. "This is the head of my corporate legal department...."
Alfred gently pulled back a curtain and looked out the window at the unmarked police cruiser that was leaving Wayne Manor.
He recalled the time he had gone down in the Batcave – it had been over a year before, in the spring of the previous year.
He found Master Bruce deep in thought, studiously reviewing information about finances.
"I see you are burning the midnight oil again, sir."
"Just learning a little about money, Alfred."
"Not about yours, I presume."
"No, Alfred. About somebody else's."
The riddles that had been arriving spoke of money – money and a connection to the attack on the Gotham Trade Center.
Releasing the curtain, Alfred thought long and hard.
The author of those riddles – the Riddler, they had come to call him – made the connection to the money laundering that had happened under cover of the arson in the Gotham Trade Center. This had all long since been confirmed by Master Bruce's investigation.
But, there was something more.
Even early last year, the Riddler had to have known that Gotham City was rushing headlong into a financial meltdown – and now, here it was.
"Just learning a little about money, Alfred," he again recalled Master Bruce's answer.
It had been a very happy reunion, but, of course, The Ancient had had a reason to come to the village, and to talk with the fortune-teller who, like the master, was worried – though, unlike the master, was able to focus and perceive... her gift from the Emperor of Heaven, she would explain.
"But who are we, that the Emperor of Heaven should be mindful of us?" the master inquired of them both.
There was a knowing pause, then The Ancient responded.
"It is not because of who we are. The Emperor of Heaven is mindful of us because of Who He is."
"Well, that's very interesting, Agent DiViglio," Fox commented.
"Yes, indeed it is," Wayne agreed. "Wayne Enterprises holds the patents on all this equipment you see on display in our lobby, and on a great deal more that we don't display. If your investigation determines that this Batman, or anybody else, is using equipment similar to that produced by my company, I would be most appreciative if you would pass word of that to our corporate legal department," Wayne said, nodding in the direction of the man who accompanied him and Lucius Fox, "so we can file a lawsuit for patent infringement. Now, if you'll excuse us," Wayne continued, "we have an appointment for lunch."
"This is official business, Mr. Wayne. We are investigating this 'Batman'," DiViglio countered Wayne's attempt to dismiss him.
"I realize that, and I will be sure to bring your concerns up over lunch with my friend, Inspector Jim Gordon of the Gotham Police Department. If I understand correctly," Wayne smiled, "Inspector Gordon is in charge of the interagency task force investigating Batman." Wayne paused to let his words sink in. "Have a nice day, gentlemen, and thank you for stopping in," Wayne said, as he, Fox and their attorney turned and walked back toward the elevator.
"And how is our friend doing?" the fortune-teller asked.
Funny, thought the master – that was supposed to have been his question.
"He is doing well," The Ancient responded. "Though he does not know it, I visit him often." The Ancient smiled a gentle smile. "I visit him especially when he is in his secret place under his house, and when he is on the streets, performing his mission."
The master and the fortune-teller exchanged glances.
"The Emperor of Heaven is furious with the hypocrites who rape Gotham City, then blame their victims and seek to destroy them." The Ancient paused. "Our friend is but an instrument of that Heavenly fury."
Detective Sergeant O'Hara was driving away from Wayne Manor.
Vasilissa was staying there – safe, her location unknown – and she was a treasure house of information. Much of what she had said was now checking out from other sources.
She had identified two special agents of the GBI as being key players on Falcone's payroll – and the very next day, one of those agents walked in, and turned himself in to Inspector Gordon. Now, that agent was an informant.
Vasilissa had also identified a senior GPD officer as a key man in Falcone's organization, key because of recruiting others to work for Falcone. Inspector Gordon had arranged for that officer to be transferred to the interagency task force that Gordon was in charge of – the same task force O'Hara himself was on. "Let's keep him close, and keep an eye on him," Gordon had explained. "And, when the time comes, we can use him to feed false information to Falcone."
O'Hara smiled.
When the time came, they would have a case that would bring Falcone's empire crashing down.
The smile disappeared from O'Hara's face.
If the time came, he thought.
There needed to be the political willpower in Gotham City to prosecute the case, and that was not likely. Both the leading candidates had been compromised by Falcone, as had one of the candidates for vice mayor. The other candidate for vice mayor, a relatively unknown quantity in the citywide election, was a wild card, and may even be honest – but, the current mayor's people were already circling around her like a bunch of sharks. Assuming she was not corrupt, how long would she stay that way?
During the conversation, the master could not help but notice that the fortune-teller had a card in her hand, and seemed somewhat distracted considering it.
Finally, considering The Ancient's words, she placed the card down on the table, and the master caught a glimpse of it.
A court jester... the Fool.
Inspector Gordon looked at the evidence bag being held up by the narcotics lieutenant.
"Cigarettes laced with heroin."
Gordon looked at the lieutenant, then back at the evidence bag, as the lieutenant continued.
"It's the latest rage on the recreational drug scene in Gotham City. Teenagers are using this stuff, have been for over a year now that we've noticed. Read the advertising on the back of the package. It tells people they don't have to shoot-up... no more of the stigma associated with needles. Now they can use heroin and be suave and debonair – it's just like smoking, the package says." The lieutenant studied Gordon. "This heroin is very pure. Even experienced junkies aren't ready for it. Deaths by overdose have risen considerably."
Gordon took the evidence bag and looked closely at it. It looked like an ordinary pack of cigarettes, except that there, on the package, it did indeed claim to have heroin inside it. And, it actually argued the "advantages" of smoking heroin instead of injecting it.
Gordon looked back at the narcotics lieutenant.
"What is this? Some kind of joke?"
Gently, the lieutenant took the evidence bag from Gordon's hand, turned it around, and gave it back to him so Gordon could see the other side of the package.
Gordon studied it for a moment, then looked again at the narcotics lieutenant.
"'Joker' brand?" Inspector Gordon asked incredulously.
The master was walking through the village. It was early evening, and, despite his many years of training, despite his years of experience, despite the years he had spent mentoring others – especially the time he had spent with his special student from Gotham City – the master felt on edge.
He smiled to himself. Others he could teach to have patience, to be tranquil, but himself? How ironic he thought.
Nearing the edge of the village, he thought about the fortune-teller's hut. He had been going there quite regularly lately, seeking updates on their friend in Gotham City. Ordinarily, he would not have needed to; he could, perhaps, have found what he needed to know by reading the news on-line, coupled with a few emails exchanged with friends around the world, capped off with his own modest ability to perceive...
But, he thought, it takes still water to mirror that which is around it, and his own mind was anything but still these days.
He knew Bruce Wayne was busy, to say the least.
Resigning himself to his own imperfections, he glanced in the direction of the fortune-teller's hut.
She was outside talking to someone.
Was it...?
Yes, it was!
The master hurried over toward the fortune-teller's to greet her... and to greet The Ancient!
The two men were in the main lobby. Around the large room were interactive displays showcasing the cutting edge of Wayne Enterprises' technology.
Here and there in the lobby people hurried to an elevator or to the revolving doors at the front of the building.
The receptionist watched the people walking by. Occasionally, the security officer at the front desk would look at someone with no ID badge, and send that person to the receptionist to sign in.
Both the receptionist and the security officer glanced at the men looking at the interactive displays.
Bruce Wayne, flanked by Lucius Fox and another man, came out of one of the elevators. A security officer quietly greeted him, and nodded toward the two men.
As they approached the two men, the men turned to face them, pulling out their identification.
"Mr. Wayne, Mr. Fox. I am Special Agent DiViglio of the Gotham Bureau of Investigation. This is my partner, Special Agent Kyle."
"How do you do?" Wayne smiled. "This is the head of my corporate legal department...."
Alfred gently pulled back a curtain and looked out the window at the unmarked police cruiser that was leaving Wayne Manor.
He recalled the time he had gone down in the Batcave – it had been over a year before, in the spring of the previous year.
He found Master Bruce deep in thought, studiously reviewing information about finances.
"I see you are burning the midnight oil again, sir."
"Just learning a little about money, Alfred."
"Not about yours, I presume."
"No, Alfred. About somebody else's."
The riddles that had been arriving spoke of money – money and a connection to the attack on the Gotham Trade Center.
Releasing the curtain, Alfred thought long and hard.
The author of those riddles – the Riddler, they had come to call him – made the connection to the money laundering that had happened under cover of the arson in the Gotham Trade Center. This had all long since been confirmed by Master Bruce's investigation.
But, there was something more.
Even early last year, the Riddler had to have known that Gotham City was rushing headlong into a financial meltdown – and now, here it was.
"Just learning a little about money, Alfred," he again recalled Master Bruce's answer.
It had been a very happy reunion, but, of course, The Ancient had had a reason to come to the village, and to talk with the fortune-teller who, like the master, was worried – though, unlike the master, was able to focus and perceive... her gift from the Emperor of Heaven, she would explain.
"But who are we, that the Emperor of Heaven should be mindful of us?" the master inquired of them both.
There was a knowing pause, then The Ancient responded.
"It is not because of who we are. The Emperor of Heaven is mindful of us because of Who He is."
"Well, that's very interesting, Agent DiViglio," Fox commented.
"Yes, indeed it is," Wayne agreed. "Wayne Enterprises holds the patents on all this equipment you see on display in our lobby, and on a great deal more that we don't display. If your investigation determines that this Batman, or anybody else, is using equipment similar to that produced by my company, I would be most appreciative if you would pass word of that to our corporate legal department," Wayne said, nodding in the direction of the man who accompanied him and Lucius Fox, "so we can file a lawsuit for patent infringement. Now, if you'll excuse us," Wayne continued, "we have an appointment for lunch."
"This is official business, Mr. Wayne. We are investigating this 'Batman'," DiViglio countered Wayne's attempt to dismiss him.
"I realize that, and I will be sure to bring your concerns up over lunch with my friend, Inspector Jim Gordon of the Gotham Police Department. If I understand correctly," Wayne smiled, "Inspector Gordon is in charge of the interagency task force investigating Batman." Wayne paused to let his words sink in. "Have a nice day, gentlemen, and thank you for stopping in," Wayne said, as he, Fox and their attorney turned and walked back toward the elevator.
"And how is our friend doing?" the fortune-teller asked.
Funny, thought the master – that was supposed to have been his question.
"He is doing well," The Ancient responded. "Though he does not know it, I visit him often." The Ancient smiled a gentle smile. "I visit him especially when he is in his secret place under his house, and when he is on the streets, performing his mission."
The master and the fortune-teller exchanged glances.
"The Emperor of Heaven is furious with the hypocrites who rape Gotham City, then blame their victims and seek to destroy them." The Ancient paused. "Our friend is but an instrument of that Heavenly fury."
Detective Sergeant O'Hara was driving away from Wayne Manor.
Vasilissa was staying there – safe, her location unknown – and she was a treasure house of information. Much of what she had said was now checking out from other sources.
She had identified two special agents of the GBI as being key players on Falcone's payroll – and the very next day, one of those agents walked in, and turned himself in to Inspector Gordon. Now, that agent was an informant.
Vasilissa had also identified a senior GPD officer as a key man in Falcone's organization, key because of recruiting others to work for Falcone. Inspector Gordon had arranged for that officer to be transferred to the interagency task force that Gordon was in charge of – the same task force O'Hara himself was on. "Let's keep him close, and keep an eye on him," Gordon had explained. "And, when the time comes, we can use him to feed false information to Falcone."
O'Hara smiled.
When the time came, they would have a case that would bring Falcone's empire crashing down.
The smile disappeared from O'Hara's face.
If the time came, he thought.
There needed to be the political willpower in Gotham City to prosecute the case, and that was not likely. Both the leading candidates had been compromised by Falcone, as had one of the candidates for vice mayor. The other candidate for vice mayor, a relatively unknown quantity in the citywide election, was a wild card, and may even be honest – but, the current mayor's people were already circling around her like a bunch of sharks. Assuming she was not corrupt, how long would she stay that way?
During the conversation, the master could not help but notice that the fortune-teller had a card in her hand, and seemed somewhat distracted considering it.
Finally, considering The Ancient's words, she placed the card down on the table, and the master caught a glimpse of it.
A court jester... the Fool.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
The Counterconspiracy: Marked with Blood
"It's the same pattern we saw before!"
The man was quite excited, and perhaps even a bit agitated; his companion, a woman about his age, was obviously quite captivated by the discovery, but managed to control her reaction a little better.
His back to them, their listener considered the meaning of the information he had been given, as he stared off into the distance at the Gotham Trade Center. Reconstruction there had made tremendous progress, and only the tallest building – the building which would replace the twin Gotham Towers – remained unfinished.
Turning around, he walked back over near his guests, and sat down in an armchair.
He smiled.
"Ed, I'm not sure I'm following what you're saying. Could you and Linda please go over your findings again?"
Smiling, Ed nodded, and took a breath in preparation to begin speaking. Linda, too, mustered a smile, though inwardly she was rolling her eyes: What a shallow playboy! she thought.
"In the wake of the attack on the Gotham Towers, it became apparent that there had been some short-term fortunes made. People who obviously knew exactly which stocks would climb and which would fall made some uncannily precise trades, and made millions – though that was small potatoes compared to what was at stake that day. Aware of this discovery made right after the attack, Linda and I looked into it working here at Wayne Enterprises. We started looking longer- and longer-term, and finally found something else that was even more uncanny: in the long term, people associated with Carmine Falcone benefited from the turbulence in Gotham City's stock market that was associated with the attack on the Gotham Towers and the mayor's declaration of a War on Crime. It was as if this whole thing – the arson in the Gotham Trade Center, and the War on Crime itself – were being steered to make money for Falcone's friends."
Bruce Wayne looked at Edward, who paused to catch his breath.
With a glance at Edward, Linda picked up where her colleague had left off, attracting Wayne's gaze.
"In this latest crisis, we are seeing this pattern again. Granted, it won't be fully apparent until months, perhaps years after the crisis ends," Linda admitted, "but it is nonetheless very apparent, even now." She glanced at Edward, then looked back at Wayne. "You just have to know where to look."
Edward nodded his agreement.
"The other parallel we are noticing is the conduct of Gotham City's official watchdogs."
Wayne directed his look at Edward Nygma again, as Linda Callahan pulled out another stack of papers and started quietly shuffling through them.
"Prior to the attack on the Gotham Trade Center, the arson that resulted in the collapse of the skyscrapers, Gotham's law enforcement had information that something was up. Though it may have lacked some important specifics, they knew skyscrapers were going to be targeted with arson, and they knew it would happen late that summer or early that fall. Yet, they issued no public warnings, did nothing to augment security in Gotham's skyscrapers, they did not put Gotham's firefighters or police on alert – they only issued a few quiet warnings to certain select VIPs, vague yet effective. Later on, we found out that official investigations into peripheral activities had been ordered closed by high-ranking people in City Hall."
"And what are we seeing this time?" Wayne asked.
Wayne recalled an occasion with the master. Talia had been in the village, and had accompanied them for a while, but was just leaving. It was as if her departure triggered a thought in the master's mind, a thought the master considered important to share.
"Generally, in battle, the best outcome is to capture your opponent's force intact and in good condition; destroying him is inferior to this."
As usual, Wayne contemplated the meaning of the master's words, but, more importantly, he considered what might have prompted the master to begin this lesson just as Talia was taking leave of them.
"To win a thousand victories in a thousand battles is not the acme of skill; for the skilled warrior overcomes his opponent without fighting him. Therefore, what is most important is to attack your opponent's strategy, and disrupt his plans. Following that, what is important is to disrupt his alliances. Of far less utility is fighting him directly, especially in a battle of attrition. Therefore, the skilled warrior overcomes his opponent without prolonged operations; having mastered the art of offensive strategy, he takes all his objectives intact."
"The regulatory commission's job is to identify the risky lending practices that ultimately sparked this crisis, and sanction them, distancing the institutions involved from Gotham's financial circles, so a collapse due to their bad lending would not cause wider damage in Gotham's finances. Yet," Edward continued, as Linda produced several short biographies of Gotham officials, "the regulatory commission failed to do that, though this had been building for years now."
Linda jumped into the explanation. "All five of the current members of the regulatory commission were appointed by the current mayor. The last one began work on the commission this year, but the other four were all in place two years ago, about the time the first rumblings of the current crisis could be identified in Gotham's financial institutions."
"What do you make of the mayor's initiatives to deal with the crisis?" Wayne asked, looking at Linda, then at Edward.
"Ingenuous, to say the least," Linda commented with an air of disdain. "His people temporarily banned certain speculative financial dealings, going so far as to publish a list of which institutions could not be targeted by such dealings. Of course, the very day after their temporary ban ended, the institutions on that list were heavily targeted by the very speculative deals which had been prohibited. By the second day after the ban, the stock of those institutions had fallen by tens of percentage points, almost fifty in some cases."
Leaning forward toward Wayne, Nygma added, "In the pool full of sharks that is Gotham's financial world, the mayor's team marked their victims with blood."
"Therefore," the master continued, "the skilled warrior is a skilled leader as well, and his victories can be predicted. Knowing when he is able to fight, and when unable, he will be victorious. Knowing how to use his forces, both large and small, both regular and irregular, he will be victorious. Uniting his ranks in purpose, he will be victorious. Being prudent, and awaiting the opportunity presented by an enemy who is not, he will be victorious. Having able generals, and not interfering with them, he will be victorious."
Looking at Wayne, he concluded.
"Knowing his enemy as he knows himself, though he may face a thousand battles, the skilled warrior needs never face danger. But the unskilled warrior, ignorant of his enemy and ignorant of himself, is in continuous danger." His gaze drifting away from Wayne, he added. "Such people are called 'mad bandits' – what can they expect, if not defeat?"
For once, the master's words made perfect sense.
But, had there been something about Talia that had prompted him to express his thoughts?
"Then, in response to the crisis, the mayor proposed a very expensive bailout plan, funded by Gotham City's taxpayers. The residents of Gotham howled, and the first time around the measure failed, but then the mayor modified it a little, twisted some arms, pushed it through the city council and signed it." Linda Callahan looked at Bruce Wayne; he seemed to understand the money aspects of this very well, she thought.
Edward Nygma picked up where Linda had left off. "Now, the mayor's administration, armed with taxpayer money provided by Gotham municipal debt, is 'infusing liquidity' into Gotham's financial institutions – but, the mayor's administration is completely at its own discretion as to which institutions to help, and which to abandon, and how much to help institutions that they try to bail out. Any institution can be overlooked, either because it is deemed too sick to cure, or not sick enough to worry about. It is completely subjective, with no oversight at all."
"And all on the taxpayer's dime," Linda nodded in agreement.
"Through this administration, Falcone is either taking over or destroying Gotham's financial institutions, just as he sees fit," Edward summarized.
The man was quite excited, and perhaps even a bit agitated; his companion, a woman about his age, was obviously quite captivated by the discovery, but managed to control her reaction a little better.
His back to them, their listener considered the meaning of the information he had been given, as he stared off into the distance at the Gotham Trade Center. Reconstruction there had made tremendous progress, and only the tallest building – the building which would replace the twin Gotham Towers – remained unfinished.
Turning around, he walked back over near his guests, and sat down in an armchair.
He smiled.
"Ed, I'm not sure I'm following what you're saying. Could you and Linda please go over your findings again?"
Smiling, Ed nodded, and took a breath in preparation to begin speaking. Linda, too, mustered a smile, though inwardly she was rolling her eyes: What a shallow playboy! she thought.
"In the wake of the attack on the Gotham Towers, it became apparent that there had been some short-term fortunes made. People who obviously knew exactly which stocks would climb and which would fall made some uncannily precise trades, and made millions – though that was small potatoes compared to what was at stake that day. Aware of this discovery made right after the attack, Linda and I looked into it working here at Wayne Enterprises. We started looking longer- and longer-term, and finally found something else that was even more uncanny: in the long term, people associated with Carmine Falcone benefited from the turbulence in Gotham City's stock market that was associated with the attack on the Gotham Towers and the mayor's declaration of a War on Crime. It was as if this whole thing – the arson in the Gotham Trade Center, and the War on Crime itself – were being steered to make money for Falcone's friends."
Bruce Wayne looked at Edward, who paused to catch his breath.
With a glance at Edward, Linda picked up where her colleague had left off, attracting Wayne's gaze.
"In this latest crisis, we are seeing this pattern again. Granted, it won't be fully apparent until months, perhaps years after the crisis ends," Linda admitted, "but it is nonetheless very apparent, even now." She glanced at Edward, then looked back at Wayne. "You just have to know where to look."
Edward nodded his agreement.
"The other parallel we are noticing is the conduct of Gotham City's official watchdogs."
Wayne directed his look at Edward Nygma again, as Linda Callahan pulled out another stack of papers and started quietly shuffling through them.
"Prior to the attack on the Gotham Trade Center, the arson that resulted in the collapse of the skyscrapers, Gotham's law enforcement had information that something was up. Though it may have lacked some important specifics, they knew skyscrapers were going to be targeted with arson, and they knew it would happen late that summer or early that fall. Yet, they issued no public warnings, did nothing to augment security in Gotham's skyscrapers, they did not put Gotham's firefighters or police on alert – they only issued a few quiet warnings to certain select VIPs, vague yet effective. Later on, we found out that official investigations into peripheral activities had been ordered closed by high-ranking people in City Hall."
"And what are we seeing this time?" Wayne asked.
Wayne recalled an occasion with the master. Talia had been in the village, and had accompanied them for a while, but was just leaving. It was as if her departure triggered a thought in the master's mind, a thought the master considered important to share.
"Generally, in battle, the best outcome is to capture your opponent's force intact and in good condition; destroying him is inferior to this."
As usual, Wayne contemplated the meaning of the master's words, but, more importantly, he considered what might have prompted the master to begin this lesson just as Talia was taking leave of them.
"To win a thousand victories in a thousand battles is not the acme of skill; for the skilled warrior overcomes his opponent without fighting him. Therefore, what is most important is to attack your opponent's strategy, and disrupt his plans. Following that, what is important is to disrupt his alliances. Of far less utility is fighting him directly, especially in a battle of attrition. Therefore, the skilled warrior overcomes his opponent without prolonged operations; having mastered the art of offensive strategy, he takes all his objectives intact."
"The regulatory commission's job is to identify the risky lending practices that ultimately sparked this crisis, and sanction them, distancing the institutions involved from Gotham's financial circles, so a collapse due to their bad lending would not cause wider damage in Gotham's finances. Yet," Edward continued, as Linda produced several short biographies of Gotham officials, "the regulatory commission failed to do that, though this had been building for years now."
Linda jumped into the explanation. "All five of the current members of the regulatory commission were appointed by the current mayor. The last one began work on the commission this year, but the other four were all in place two years ago, about the time the first rumblings of the current crisis could be identified in Gotham's financial institutions."
"What do you make of the mayor's initiatives to deal with the crisis?" Wayne asked, looking at Linda, then at Edward.
"Ingenuous, to say the least," Linda commented with an air of disdain. "His people temporarily banned certain speculative financial dealings, going so far as to publish a list of which institutions could not be targeted by such dealings. Of course, the very day after their temporary ban ended, the institutions on that list were heavily targeted by the very speculative deals which had been prohibited. By the second day after the ban, the stock of those institutions had fallen by tens of percentage points, almost fifty in some cases."
Leaning forward toward Wayne, Nygma added, "In the pool full of sharks that is Gotham's financial world, the mayor's team marked their victims with blood."
"Therefore," the master continued, "the skilled warrior is a skilled leader as well, and his victories can be predicted. Knowing when he is able to fight, and when unable, he will be victorious. Knowing how to use his forces, both large and small, both regular and irregular, he will be victorious. Uniting his ranks in purpose, he will be victorious. Being prudent, and awaiting the opportunity presented by an enemy who is not, he will be victorious. Having able generals, and not interfering with them, he will be victorious."
Looking at Wayne, he concluded.
"Knowing his enemy as he knows himself, though he may face a thousand battles, the skilled warrior needs never face danger. But the unskilled warrior, ignorant of his enemy and ignorant of himself, is in continuous danger." His gaze drifting away from Wayne, he added. "Such people are called 'mad bandits' – what can they expect, if not defeat?"
For once, the master's words made perfect sense.
But, had there been something about Talia that had prompted him to express his thoughts?
"Then, in response to the crisis, the mayor proposed a very expensive bailout plan, funded by Gotham City's taxpayers. The residents of Gotham howled, and the first time around the measure failed, but then the mayor modified it a little, twisted some arms, pushed it through the city council and signed it." Linda Callahan looked at Bruce Wayne; he seemed to understand the money aspects of this very well, she thought.
Edward Nygma picked up where Linda had left off. "Now, the mayor's administration, armed with taxpayer money provided by Gotham municipal debt, is 'infusing liquidity' into Gotham's financial institutions – but, the mayor's administration is completely at its own discretion as to which institutions to help, and which to abandon, and how much to help institutions that they try to bail out. Any institution can be overlooked, either because it is deemed too sick to cure, or not sick enough to worry about. It is completely subjective, with no oversight at all."
"And all on the taxpayer's dime," Linda nodded in agreement.
"Through this administration, Falcone is either taking over or destroying Gotham's financial institutions, just as he sees fit," Edward summarized.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
The Counterconspiracy: Divine Skein
It was now after sunrise. The master was walking slowly around the village.
Although the fortune-teller had led him to understand that no gift was anticipated in return for having told him what was going on in Gotham City this morning, the master still had a very strong desire to express his gratitude.
He finally convinced the fortune-teller to accept an invitation to breakfast in the market. The master convinced her to bring her mother and her daughter along with. She agreed, but explained they would need some time to get ready. So much the better, as the market was only just opening, agreed the master. He would leave and then return to pick them up. He glanced at the sun – another fifteen or twenty minutes.
He thought back to one of the last lessons he had given to young Mr. Wayne before the latter left on his trip to Russia with Talia.
"The warrior who confronts his enemy for great periods of time, struggling amidst destruction to achieve victory, yet who makes no effort to learn of his enemy's situation, is not skilled. The skilled warrior will wage his campaign based on foreknowledge of the enemy situation."
Mr. Wayne had looked at the master, wondering where the master's words were leading.
Special Agent Nicholas Kyle of the Gotham Bureau of Investigation was home.
It was late at night, about midnight.
His wife, Selena, had gotten a new job with an important company in Gotham City – she was now a security officer with Wayne Enterprises Corporate Security, and had been assigned to the Executive Security detail. She was very happy, and enjoyed her work greatly, although it meant that she was now often away from home at odd hours, and tonight was one of those occasions; she was expecting to get off work some time after midnight, but had left a message on the answering machine a little earlier that she might be delayed tonight.
Nick Kyle poured himself a second glass of Scotch, and stepped outside onto his patio. It was chilly outside, but refreshing and, since he had only gotten home an hour ago himself, he still was not fully undressed. In fact, he had taken off his coat and his shoes, and loosened his tie, but was otherwise still fully clothed, right down to the holster under his left arm with his pistol in it.
Soon it would be Halloween. Selena enjoyed decorating the house for Halloween, and she enjoyed giving out candy to the neighborhood children.
Cleaning the house one weekend about a month ago, Nick had found a vinyl cat-costume and asked her about it. She looked a little upset, then finally explained that it was supposed to be a surprise for Halloween; she was looking forward to dressing up in it to hand out the candy this year, and she was hoping to surprise him when he came home from work that night.
Looking around his back yard, he smiled at the thought of his wife in skin-tight vinyl.
It was kind of chilly, he thought; he set his drink down on the table on the patio, and turned to go back inside. He would go get his coat and maybe slip on his shoes again, he thought.
Reaching for the door, he froze: in the reflection on the glass, he could see a large figure standing behind him.
"Foreknowledge," continued the master, "does not come from inquiring of spirits or from other occult practices, nor from analogy with past events; it is obtained from those who know the enemy intimately."
Wayne pondered the meaning of the master's words.
"There are different kinds of people who have such knowledge; they include doubled agents, inside agents, expendable agents, and living agents. When working together, this network of agents is the skilled warrior's 'Divine Skein', and is key to an overwhelming victory, and to the utter collapse of the enemy."
Slowly, he turned back around.
The giant figure, dressed in flowing black, towered several inches over him.
"I'm tired of this," he sighed to the figure. "I've already got my pistol, and haven't reached for it. Do you mind if I get my coat and shoes? It's kind of chilly out here."
"It was especially chilly for the girls down at the warehouse the other night, as they were waiting for the party to start."
Opening his door, he reached inside and grabbed his coat, which was on a chair near the patio door. He then reached down, and picked up a pair of shoes that he liked to wear outside when he was working in the backyard, and dropped them on the patio. He then slid the door closed again, as he slipped his feet into his shoes and put his coat on.
"I had nothing to do with that," Nick said to the tall figure.
"You help the cartel that traffics them – you had something to do with it," the figure answered.
"Yeah, I suppose you're right," Nick said, reaching down for his drink again.
He took a sip, then looked at the figure.
"Where did it go wrong?" he asked. "I always wanted to be a hero. Now you're the hero, and how many times have I tried to kill you?"
"You've made some mistakes, just like we all do," the figure answered. "As long as you're alive, it's never too late to change."
Nick finished his drink. "I don't suppose I could offer you a Scotch?"
The figure looked at him.
"I suppose that's probably part of what's going wrong in my life," he confessed, looking at his empty glass.
"Why did you join the GBI?"
Inspector Gordon hadn't had a great deal of time. He had promised Detective Sergeant O'Hara he would be at the crime scene shortly, but here he already had had to make a detour – all the way to Wayne Manor – with his passenger.
Now he was racing down the Gotham Expressway.
In the short time they had shared as they rode out to Wayne Manor, Vasilissa had already been a treasure of information. She confirmed much of what Batman had told him, and had insights into much of the documentation that Batman had provided him.
Vasilissa had given him names; it seemed Donovan was a key man in Falcone's organization, keeping tabs on the Gotham Police Department, and DiViglio was another key man, keeping tabs on the Gotham Bureau of Investigation. Each of them helped recruit new people to work for Falcone, and each of them helped shore up Falcone's men when they started getting cold feet about what was going on.
And, there was much, much more.
Gordon knew that Vasilissa would be safe at Wayne Manor. Gordon had known Bruce Wayne ever since the night young Bruce's parents had been killed; Patrolman Jim Gordon was the first on the scene, and they had been friends ever since.
Bruce Wayne had a reputation as a shallow playboy, and it was true that he could be distant at times, but there was much, much more to him than met the eye.
It was heartening to know that Vasilissa felt comfortable at Wayne Manor; it seems she and Wayne's security officer, a young lady named Sasha, had known each other previously, and liked each other. In the car on the way over to Wayne Manor, Vasilissa had offered Gordon the names of two people that she felt could be trusted: Rachel Dawes in the DA's office, and Dr. Sandra Villanova, a professor at Gotham University. Gordon appreciated that, because he was working with Dawes already – in fact, she was his contact on the case they were supposed to be putting together against Batman – and Gordon felt he could trust her boss, Harvey Dent, too. Dr. Villanova was a relatively new acquaintance of Inspector Gordon, but he knew she was close to Bruce Wayne, and she, too, was a treasure of information.
Gordon smiled. He now had evidence, he now had witnesses, he now had experts helping him analyze the case, and he now had honest prosecutors who would file charges and prosecute the case.
Falcone's Roman Empire was in his hands.
The smile disappeared as he thought of one major problem.
"Because I wanted to be a hero," came the answer. "Somehow, I found myself working for Falcone, when I always imagined myself working against the criminals."
"But what about the Nicholas Kyle that dreamed about joining the GBI to fight the bad guys? Is that Nicholas Kyle still around?"
Nick thought about that long and hard.
The figure watched him as he turned to the door, opened it and entered his house, leaving the door open, and walked over to his bar. He poured himself another Scotch, then came back outside, closing the door behind himself again.
"Falcone floods our streets with drugs and crime. He takes young women from their homes, and forces them into prostitution, getting them hooked on drugs and having them raped so they'll be compliant. It could just as easily have been your wife that he did that to. Even now, Falcone is manipulating Gotham City's finances, wiping out the retirement plans of tens of thousands of families, while he benefits from the tax dollars being pumped into Gotham's financial institutions to relieve the crisis. You have investments, you pay taxes; Falcone is stealing from you, stealing the future you plan to have with your wife."
There was a pause as Nick sipped his Scotch, considering the whispered words from the dark figure.
"Aladdin has nuclear weapons in place here in Gotham City; just as he destroyed the Gotham Towers, he plans to destroy all of Gotham City. Falcone has such a tight stranglehold on Gotham, the authorities are unable to deal with Aladdin and his Mujahideen."
There was another pause, as Nick turned and looked at the bushes he and Selena had planted in their backyard.
"We all make mistakes – all of us, even Special Agents with the Gotham Bureau of Investigation. But you can still be a hero – you can still make a difference. You can still redeem yourself from your mistake."
"How?"
"It is important to know who the enemy agents are that are among you. You must care for them. This is how they may be recruited and used by you. In turn, such doubled agents can help you recruit agents among the enemy; such are inside agents. Then there are those of your own agents who have been doubled; these are given false information, and take it back to mislead the enemy. This is how to use doubled agents who are in fact not doubled, or who may be tripled; such agents are expendable."
The master recalled the look Mr. Wayne had given him.
"Finally, there are those agents who are sent into the enemy camp to spy the enemy out, and who return with useful information. These are living agents."
"Why do I need to know about the use of spies and agents?"
To this question, the master had merely smiled.
"Tell what you know to the authorities, so they can bring Falcone down."
Nick laughed out loud. "Falcone would kill me – even assuming I could find an honest cop to talk to, Falcone would kill me – and Selena."
The figure stepped closer. "Falcone has already killed the two of you. Think about it. Is your life together the way you wanted it to be?" The figure paused, while Nick looked at him. "Only by turning on him can you live again – you and your wife, even if it is only for a short time. And, there are others ready to come forward. You can lead the way. You can be a hero. You can bring down the bad guys, and save Gotham City. The GBI can get its man once again, and Gotham City will have a chance."
Nick took another sip of his Scotch, thinking it over.
"I know that the Nick Kyle who joined the Gotham Police, then joined the Gotham Bureau of Investigation, graduating from both academies with honors – I know he is in there, ready to make up for his mistakes, ready to be a hero once again."
There was another pause, then the figure added, "Please, Nick – will you help save Gotham City?"
Nick gazed again at the bushes, then downed his whiskey quickly. Turning back to the dark figure, he whispered, "Okay, Mr. Batman, I'll help. What do I have to do? Who do I talk to?"
Inspector Gordon thought more about the situation.
There needed to be the political will in Gotham City for this to move forward, and he knew the mayor was deep in Falcone's pocket. So were the two teams of candidates running to replace the mayor. On one team, there were Salama and Lidden, who were ahead in the polls – Salama was implicated with one organized crime faction, and with a tycoon who wanted to legalize narcotics, while Lidden had for years been on the payroll of another organized crime faction tied in to the heroin trade. Then there was McMullen, whom the current mayor had endorsed; he was deep in the pockets of the same faction that Lidden was in.
Signaling for the off-ramp from the Gotham Expressway, Gordon sighed – they needed an honest mayor. With an honest mayor, Gordon could clean up Gotham, but an honest mayor seemed so far away.
And, Gordon was worried about the glance that he saw Vasilissa give to the other young lady on Bruce Wayne's security detail – what was her name? Selena Lyon. Why did that name ring a bell?
Although the fortune-teller had led him to understand that no gift was anticipated in return for having told him what was going on in Gotham City this morning, the master still had a very strong desire to express his gratitude.
He finally convinced the fortune-teller to accept an invitation to breakfast in the market. The master convinced her to bring her mother and her daughter along with. She agreed, but explained they would need some time to get ready. So much the better, as the market was only just opening, agreed the master. He would leave and then return to pick them up. He glanced at the sun – another fifteen or twenty minutes.
He thought back to one of the last lessons he had given to young Mr. Wayne before the latter left on his trip to Russia with Talia.
"The warrior who confronts his enemy for great periods of time, struggling amidst destruction to achieve victory, yet who makes no effort to learn of his enemy's situation, is not skilled. The skilled warrior will wage his campaign based on foreknowledge of the enemy situation."
Mr. Wayne had looked at the master, wondering where the master's words were leading.
Special Agent Nicholas Kyle of the Gotham Bureau of Investigation was home.
It was late at night, about midnight.
His wife, Selena, had gotten a new job with an important company in Gotham City – she was now a security officer with Wayne Enterprises Corporate Security, and had been assigned to the Executive Security detail. She was very happy, and enjoyed her work greatly, although it meant that she was now often away from home at odd hours, and tonight was one of those occasions; she was expecting to get off work some time after midnight, but had left a message on the answering machine a little earlier that she might be delayed tonight.
Nick Kyle poured himself a second glass of Scotch, and stepped outside onto his patio. It was chilly outside, but refreshing and, since he had only gotten home an hour ago himself, he still was not fully undressed. In fact, he had taken off his coat and his shoes, and loosened his tie, but was otherwise still fully clothed, right down to the holster under his left arm with his pistol in it.
Soon it would be Halloween. Selena enjoyed decorating the house for Halloween, and she enjoyed giving out candy to the neighborhood children.
Cleaning the house one weekend about a month ago, Nick had found a vinyl cat-costume and asked her about it. She looked a little upset, then finally explained that it was supposed to be a surprise for Halloween; she was looking forward to dressing up in it to hand out the candy this year, and she was hoping to surprise him when he came home from work that night.
Looking around his back yard, he smiled at the thought of his wife in skin-tight vinyl.
It was kind of chilly, he thought; he set his drink down on the table on the patio, and turned to go back inside. He would go get his coat and maybe slip on his shoes again, he thought.
Reaching for the door, he froze: in the reflection on the glass, he could see a large figure standing behind him.
"Foreknowledge," continued the master, "does not come from inquiring of spirits or from other occult practices, nor from analogy with past events; it is obtained from those who know the enemy intimately."
Wayne pondered the meaning of the master's words.
"There are different kinds of people who have such knowledge; they include doubled agents, inside agents, expendable agents, and living agents. When working together, this network of agents is the skilled warrior's 'Divine Skein', and is key to an overwhelming victory, and to the utter collapse of the enemy."
Slowly, he turned back around.
The giant figure, dressed in flowing black, towered several inches over him.
"I'm tired of this," he sighed to the figure. "I've already got my pistol, and haven't reached for it. Do you mind if I get my coat and shoes? It's kind of chilly out here."
"It was especially chilly for the girls down at the warehouse the other night, as they were waiting for the party to start."
Opening his door, he reached inside and grabbed his coat, which was on a chair near the patio door. He then reached down, and picked up a pair of shoes that he liked to wear outside when he was working in the backyard, and dropped them on the patio. He then slid the door closed again, as he slipped his feet into his shoes and put his coat on.
"I had nothing to do with that," Nick said to the tall figure.
"You help the cartel that traffics them – you had something to do with it," the figure answered.
"Yeah, I suppose you're right," Nick said, reaching down for his drink again.
He took a sip, then looked at the figure.
"Where did it go wrong?" he asked. "I always wanted to be a hero. Now you're the hero, and how many times have I tried to kill you?"
"You've made some mistakes, just like we all do," the figure answered. "As long as you're alive, it's never too late to change."
Nick finished his drink. "I don't suppose I could offer you a Scotch?"
The figure looked at him.
"I suppose that's probably part of what's going wrong in my life," he confessed, looking at his empty glass.
"Why did you join the GBI?"
Inspector Gordon hadn't had a great deal of time. He had promised Detective Sergeant O'Hara he would be at the crime scene shortly, but here he already had had to make a detour – all the way to Wayne Manor – with his passenger.
Now he was racing down the Gotham Expressway.
In the short time they had shared as they rode out to Wayne Manor, Vasilissa had already been a treasure of information. She confirmed much of what Batman had told him, and had insights into much of the documentation that Batman had provided him.
Vasilissa had given him names; it seemed Donovan was a key man in Falcone's organization, keeping tabs on the Gotham Police Department, and DiViglio was another key man, keeping tabs on the Gotham Bureau of Investigation. Each of them helped recruit new people to work for Falcone, and each of them helped shore up Falcone's men when they started getting cold feet about what was going on.
And, there was much, much more.
Gordon knew that Vasilissa would be safe at Wayne Manor. Gordon had known Bruce Wayne ever since the night young Bruce's parents had been killed; Patrolman Jim Gordon was the first on the scene, and they had been friends ever since.
Bruce Wayne had a reputation as a shallow playboy, and it was true that he could be distant at times, but there was much, much more to him than met the eye.
It was heartening to know that Vasilissa felt comfortable at Wayne Manor; it seems she and Wayne's security officer, a young lady named Sasha, had known each other previously, and liked each other. In the car on the way over to Wayne Manor, Vasilissa had offered Gordon the names of two people that she felt could be trusted: Rachel Dawes in the DA's office, and Dr. Sandra Villanova, a professor at Gotham University. Gordon appreciated that, because he was working with Dawes already – in fact, she was his contact on the case they were supposed to be putting together against Batman – and Gordon felt he could trust her boss, Harvey Dent, too. Dr. Villanova was a relatively new acquaintance of Inspector Gordon, but he knew she was close to Bruce Wayne, and she, too, was a treasure of information.
Gordon smiled. He now had evidence, he now had witnesses, he now had experts helping him analyze the case, and he now had honest prosecutors who would file charges and prosecute the case.
Falcone's Roman Empire was in his hands.
The smile disappeared as he thought of one major problem.
"Because I wanted to be a hero," came the answer. "Somehow, I found myself working for Falcone, when I always imagined myself working against the criminals."
"But what about the Nicholas Kyle that dreamed about joining the GBI to fight the bad guys? Is that Nicholas Kyle still around?"
Nick thought about that long and hard.
The figure watched him as he turned to the door, opened it and entered his house, leaving the door open, and walked over to his bar. He poured himself another Scotch, then came back outside, closing the door behind himself again.
"Falcone floods our streets with drugs and crime. He takes young women from their homes, and forces them into prostitution, getting them hooked on drugs and having them raped so they'll be compliant. It could just as easily have been your wife that he did that to. Even now, Falcone is manipulating Gotham City's finances, wiping out the retirement plans of tens of thousands of families, while he benefits from the tax dollars being pumped into Gotham's financial institutions to relieve the crisis. You have investments, you pay taxes; Falcone is stealing from you, stealing the future you plan to have with your wife."
There was a pause as Nick sipped his Scotch, considering the whispered words from the dark figure.
"Aladdin has nuclear weapons in place here in Gotham City; just as he destroyed the Gotham Towers, he plans to destroy all of Gotham City. Falcone has such a tight stranglehold on Gotham, the authorities are unable to deal with Aladdin and his Mujahideen."
There was another pause, as Nick turned and looked at the bushes he and Selena had planted in their backyard.
"We all make mistakes – all of us, even Special Agents with the Gotham Bureau of Investigation. But you can still be a hero – you can still make a difference. You can still redeem yourself from your mistake."
"How?"
"It is important to know who the enemy agents are that are among you. You must care for them. This is how they may be recruited and used by you. In turn, such doubled agents can help you recruit agents among the enemy; such are inside agents. Then there are those of your own agents who have been doubled; these are given false information, and take it back to mislead the enemy. This is how to use doubled agents who are in fact not doubled, or who may be tripled; such agents are expendable."
The master recalled the look Mr. Wayne had given him.
"Finally, there are those agents who are sent into the enemy camp to spy the enemy out, and who return with useful information. These are living agents."
"Why do I need to know about the use of spies and agents?"
To this question, the master had merely smiled.
"Tell what you know to the authorities, so they can bring Falcone down."
Nick laughed out loud. "Falcone would kill me – even assuming I could find an honest cop to talk to, Falcone would kill me – and Selena."
The figure stepped closer. "Falcone has already killed the two of you. Think about it. Is your life together the way you wanted it to be?" The figure paused, while Nick looked at him. "Only by turning on him can you live again – you and your wife, even if it is only for a short time. And, there are others ready to come forward. You can lead the way. You can be a hero. You can bring down the bad guys, and save Gotham City. The GBI can get its man once again, and Gotham City will have a chance."
Nick took another sip of his Scotch, thinking it over.
"I know that the Nick Kyle who joined the Gotham Police, then joined the Gotham Bureau of Investigation, graduating from both academies with honors – I know he is in there, ready to make up for his mistakes, ready to be a hero once again."
There was another pause, then the figure added, "Please, Nick – will you help save Gotham City?"
Nick gazed again at the bushes, then downed his whiskey quickly. Turning back to the dark figure, he whispered, "Okay, Mr. Batman, I'll help. What do I have to do? Who do I talk to?"
Inspector Gordon thought more about the situation.
There needed to be the political will in Gotham City for this to move forward, and he knew the mayor was deep in Falcone's pocket. So were the two teams of candidates running to replace the mayor. On one team, there were Salama and Lidden, who were ahead in the polls – Salama was implicated with one organized crime faction, and with a tycoon who wanted to legalize narcotics, while Lidden had for years been on the payroll of another organized crime faction tied in to the heroin trade. Then there was McMullen, whom the current mayor had endorsed; he was deep in the pockets of the same faction that Lidden was in.
Signaling for the off-ramp from the Gotham Expressway, Gordon sighed – they needed an honest mayor. With an honest mayor, Gordon could clean up Gotham, but an honest mayor seemed so far away.
And, Gordon was worried about the glance that he saw Vasilissa give to the other young lady on Bruce Wayne's security detail – what was her name? Selena Lyon. Why did that name ring a bell?
Saturday, October 11, 2008
The Counterconspiracy: Witness
Detective Sergeant O'Hara walked into the building and looked around.
O'Hara's eyes scanned the interior of the restaurant. There was a hole in the ceiling where the skylight had been; the place had obviously had a fire, but it looked as if the fire had been quickly extinguished. His eyes running farther back in the dining area, he noticed a big hole in the wall leading in from the kitchen and, stepping to one side and looking through the hole, he saw a similar hole in the outer wall leading into the kitchen from the alleyway out back. The equipment in the kitchen had been knocked out of the way, making a path from the alleyway out back all the way into the dining room.
"Looks like somebody wanted drive-through service," O'Hara commented. "So what happened?"
"Several armed, masked men entered via the back door," one officer answered, his notebook open, "and they told everyone to keep quiet and not to move. They then immobilized the people with heavy tape," the officer explained, pointing to tape on the arm of a chair. "Witnesses said that at first it looked like an armed robbery, but then the intruders placed several cans of gasoline around the dining room, and started spilling gas around the whole building."
O'Hara looked at the officer closely, who led O'Hara through the hole in the dining room wall and into the kitchen.
"It was at that point that a large, black vehicle crashed through the back wall from the alleyway into the kitchen, then drove through the kitchen, then crashed through this wall into the dining room and stopped."
Studying the gaping hole in the wall, O'Hara asked the officer, "What did this vehicle look like?"
"It was a large, black vehicle, a very unusual but sporty design, with appendages on the back."
"The Batmobile?" O'Hara looked up.
The officer nodded. "The assailants were apparently surprised by this, and a panic ensued. They started firing at the Batmobile, and their shots ignited the gasoline, and the fire began to spread rapidly." The officer looked at O'Hara. "The good news is that the perps hadn't yet had time to really douse the place down."
O'Hara looked at the fire damage, then his eyes wandered back to the broken skylight.
"What happened then?"
"At that point, a large figure dressed in flowing black crashed down through the skylight, landing behind the assailants," the officer explained, referring to his notes, and proceeding rather matter-of-factly.
"Batman," O'Hara said quietly.
The officer looked up from his notes. "He surprised them. The witnesses disagree on how many were right there when Batman hit the floor, but it was at least four, with another couple back in the kitchen area." Looking up, the officer became a little animated. "Batman cleaned their clocks, Detective; I mean, he really took these guys apart, and fast." Looking back down, he continued. "Meanwhile, a big fire extinguisher in the front of the Batmobile was putting out the fire...."
"If Batman was here fighting the assailants, who was driving the Batmobile?" O'Hara interrupted.
"It appeared to be empty. Witnesses later got a look inside it, and there appeared to have been nobody inside until Batman got in the vehicle with one of the victims."
O'Hara looked at the officer. "Please continue with your narrative," he said, shaking his head.
"Batman grabbed a butter knife off one of the tables, and cut the tape, releasing a couple of the victims. He told them to release the others, exit out front, and call 9-1-1. He pulled a canister out of his belt, and sprayed it on the assailants; it was some kind of foam of some sort, it hardened and dried fast, and left the men immobilized. Then he hurried in the backroom. By this time, it seems the remaining assailants were leaving the scene, as the witnesses recalled hearing several vehicles' wheels squealing in the alleyway."
As the narrative progressed, the officer led O'Hara toward the back of the restaurant.
"One witness said that Batman came out carrying a woman, another said she was walking on her own." Looking up, the officer added, "Both commented on how beautiful she was."
At this, O'Hara looked hard at the officer who was narrating this; the officer looked back and shrugged.
"The Batmobile's top opened, and Batman strapped the woman into the passenger's seat, then himself got into the driver's seat, and was strapping himself in as the top came back down; the vehicle then backed out into the alleyway."
With these words, the officer led O'Hara through the hole in the wall and out into the alleyway.
O'Hara looked around. Off to the right, about fifty feet away, a vehicle was completely destroyed, and about ten or twelve firefighters, ambulance workers and police officers were surrounding the vehicle. Back to the left, several officers were combing the alleyway looking for evidence.
Inspector Gordon stepped out of the elevator, and began to walk across the parking garage to his unmarked police cruiser.
It was late, after ten, and he had been hoping to be asleep already, but watching the coverage on Gotham's television of the financial meltdown in Gotham City had his interest – and, it had him thinking.
The phone rang – it was Detective O'Hara. He was on the scene of an incident at a restaurant, and he had asked Gordon to come down and look the scene over. No details had been discussed over the phone; in fact very little had been said, but Gordon knew: it was a fire, and Batman was involved.
"I'm on my way," he said, then hung up and began to change.
Now he was hurrying across the parking garage beneath the apartment building where he lived.
As he approached his car, his eyes caught something in the back corner of the garage. Gordon stopped, as the unusual-looking vehicle approached silently.
Its top opened, and a large figure dressed in flowing black climbed out, then helped a woman out of the vehicle. Despite himself, Gordon did a double-take – she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, and she looked a little familiar.
"Inspector Jim Gordon, this is Nyssa Raatko."
Gordon smiled a half-smile. "How do you do?"
"Nyssa has, until tonight, been in the employ of one Mr. Carmine Falcone," the figure explained.
"Vasilissa," Gordon interrupted. That's where he knew her from. He had seen pictures of her at Falcone's parties.
Nyssa nodded.
"Tonight, Falcone tried to kill her. His plan was to torch an entire restaurant full of innocent people in order to cover up his assassination of Vasilissa."
Gordon thought about that for a moment. That was undoubtedly the crime scene he was being called to. But, why was Vasilissa so important?
"She is ready to provide evidence to the prosecution that will break up Falcone's empire, and put a great many people behind bars. And, her testimony is just the tip of the iceberg. She will give you more names of people who will testify, and there are others I know of who are also willing to come forward."
"If I can keep her alive," Gordon commented.
"A recent client of mine, a man by the name of Malone, had a suggestion as to where I could stay," Vasilissa interjected.
Gordon nodded; Gordon had an idea, too.
The dark figure produced a small device, and handed it to Inspector Gordon.
"What's this?"
"It's called a 'Batsignal'," Vasilissa smiled. "Press the green button for a routine meeting; press the red button if you are in immediate, life-threatening danger. Once the button is pressed, Batman is summoned, and there is no way to cancel the meeting," she explained.
"Perhaps you need this more than I do," Gordon suggested, offering the Batsignal to Vasilissa.
"She already has one," the dark figure said, as Vasilissa held up a similar device.
"By the way, Batman," Gordon turned to the figure, "this financial crisis that has developed in Gotham City over the past few days...."
"It could have been prevented by the regulatory commission, all of whose members were appointed by the current mayor."
"So the mayor is pulling the strings on this?" Gordon asked.
"At one level, yes. But, the mayor is just a front man, and is being manipulated, as well."
Gordon thought about that comment, and remembered the figure's words from a previous meeting, where Batman had described the relationship among the mayor, Falcone, Aladdin, and an organization known as "The Demon".
"My father is Ra's al Ghul," Vasilissa added. "I don't know much about him, hardly anything at all, but I will tell you everything I know."
"And just who is Ra's al Ghul?" Inspector Gordon asked.
"'The Head of the Demon' – that's how his name translates," the dark figure answered.
Gordon looked at Vasilissa. Clicking the button on the keyless entry system to his unmarked police cruiser, he motioned to Vasilissa. "If you'll please get in my car, we need to get you to some place safe," he said, turning toward his car.
Stopping, he turned around. "One more thing, Batman," he began, but it was too late; the dark figure was inside the dark vehicle, and the top was already coming down.
"As these cars were attempting to make their escape, their occupants fired automatic weapons at the Batmobile. It seems the Batmobile fired a missile, and the missile destroyed that car there," the officer pointed to the right, "then the Batmobile somehow pivoted and faced in that direction," the officer pointed to the left, "and took off after one of the other cars, which Batman apparently caught on the Gotham Expressway about two miles from here. I heard they counted over one hundred bullet holes in that vehicle."
"'Pivoted?'" O'Hara repeated, looking at the alleyway; there was not enough room for a vehicle to turn around behind the restaurant.
"As in 'on a dime', Detective – those were the exact words of one witness."
O'Hara looked at the officer, as he finished his report. "At this point, we have four dead and seven hospitalized, three of them in intensive care – all perpetrators. None of the victims received significant injuries."
Sasha looked at Alfred, who was on the phone.
"Yes, sir. All is ready." Alfred paused. "I shall tell him, sir. Have a good evening, sir."
Alfred looked at Sasha. "My dear, would you be so kind as to go to the gatehouse? We have a guest who will be arriving. Please escort her to the main house. It is important that we take especially good care of her," Alfred explained.
Sasha nodded. "Bruce told me we might be expecting someone."
"And where is Master Bruce?" Alfred inquired.
"He said he had one more stop to make tonight."
O'Hara's eyes scanned the interior of the restaurant. There was a hole in the ceiling where the skylight had been; the place had obviously had a fire, but it looked as if the fire had been quickly extinguished. His eyes running farther back in the dining area, he noticed a big hole in the wall leading in from the kitchen and, stepping to one side and looking through the hole, he saw a similar hole in the outer wall leading into the kitchen from the alleyway out back. The equipment in the kitchen had been knocked out of the way, making a path from the alleyway out back all the way into the dining room.
"Looks like somebody wanted drive-through service," O'Hara commented. "So what happened?"
"Several armed, masked men entered via the back door," one officer answered, his notebook open, "and they told everyone to keep quiet and not to move. They then immobilized the people with heavy tape," the officer explained, pointing to tape on the arm of a chair. "Witnesses said that at first it looked like an armed robbery, but then the intruders placed several cans of gasoline around the dining room, and started spilling gas around the whole building."
O'Hara looked at the officer closely, who led O'Hara through the hole in the dining room wall and into the kitchen.
"It was at that point that a large, black vehicle crashed through the back wall from the alleyway into the kitchen, then drove through the kitchen, then crashed through this wall into the dining room and stopped."
Studying the gaping hole in the wall, O'Hara asked the officer, "What did this vehicle look like?"
"It was a large, black vehicle, a very unusual but sporty design, with appendages on the back."
"The Batmobile?" O'Hara looked up.
The officer nodded. "The assailants were apparently surprised by this, and a panic ensued. They started firing at the Batmobile, and their shots ignited the gasoline, and the fire began to spread rapidly." The officer looked at O'Hara. "The good news is that the perps hadn't yet had time to really douse the place down."
O'Hara looked at the fire damage, then his eyes wandered back to the broken skylight.
"What happened then?"
"At that point, a large figure dressed in flowing black crashed down through the skylight, landing behind the assailants," the officer explained, referring to his notes, and proceeding rather matter-of-factly.
"Batman," O'Hara said quietly.
The officer looked up from his notes. "He surprised them. The witnesses disagree on how many were right there when Batman hit the floor, but it was at least four, with another couple back in the kitchen area." Looking up, the officer became a little animated. "Batman cleaned their clocks, Detective; I mean, he really took these guys apart, and fast." Looking back down, he continued. "Meanwhile, a big fire extinguisher in the front of the Batmobile was putting out the fire...."
"If Batman was here fighting the assailants, who was driving the Batmobile?" O'Hara interrupted.
"It appeared to be empty. Witnesses later got a look inside it, and there appeared to have been nobody inside until Batman got in the vehicle with one of the victims."
O'Hara looked at the officer. "Please continue with your narrative," he said, shaking his head.
"Batman grabbed a butter knife off one of the tables, and cut the tape, releasing a couple of the victims. He told them to release the others, exit out front, and call 9-1-1. He pulled a canister out of his belt, and sprayed it on the assailants; it was some kind of foam of some sort, it hardened and dried fast, and left the men immobilized. Then he hurried in the backroom. By this time, it seems the remaining assailants were leaving the scene, as the witnesses recalled hearing several vehicles' wheels squealing in the alleyway."
As the narrative progressed, the officer led O'Hara toward the back of the restaurant.
"One witness said that Batman came out carrying a woman, another said she was walking on her own." Looking up, the officer added, "Both commented on how beautiful she was."
At this, O'Hara looked hard at the officer who was narrating this; the officer looked back and shrugged.
"The Batmobile's top opened, and Batman strapped the woman into the passenger's seat, then himself got into the driver's seat, and was strapping himself in as the top came back down; the vehicle then backed out into the alleyway."
With these words, the officer led O'Hara through the hole in the wall and out into the alleyway.
O'Hara looked around. Off to the right, about fifty feet away, a vehicle was completely destroyed, and about ten or twelve firefighters, ambulance workers and police officers were surrounding the vehicle. Back to the left, several officers were combing the alleyway looking for evidence.
Inspector Gordon stepped out of the elevator, and began to walk across the parking garage to his unmarked police cruiser.
It was late, after ten, and he had been hoping to be asleep already, but watching the coverage on Gotham's television of the financial meltdown in Gotham City had his interest – and, it had him thinking.
The phone rang – it was Detective O'Hara. He was on the scene of an incident at a restaurant, and he had asked Gordon to come down and look the scene over. No details had been discussed over the phone; in fact very little had been said, but Gordon knew: it was a fire, and Batman was involved.
"I'm on my way," he said, then hung up and began to change.
Now he was hurrying across the parking garage beneath the apartment building where he lived.
As he approached his car, his eyes caught something in the back corner of the garage. Gordon stopped, as the unusual-looking vehicle approached silently.
Its top opened, and a large figure dressed in flowing black climbed out, then helped a woman out of the vehicle. Despite himself, Gordon did a double-take – she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, and she looked a little familiar.
"Inspector Jim Gordon, this is Nyssa Raatko."
Gordon smiled a half-smile. "How do you do?"
"Nyssa has, until tonight, been in the employ of one Mr. Carmine Falcone," the figure explained.
"Vasilissa," Gordon interrupted. That's where he knew her from. He had seen pictures of her at Falcone's parties.
Nyssa nodded.
"Tonight, Falcone tried to kill her. His plan was to torch an entire restaurant full of innocent people in order to cover up his assassination of Vasilissa."
Gordon thought about that for a moment. That was undoubtedly the crime scene he was being called to. But, why was Vasilissa so important?
"She is ready to provide evidence to the prosecution that will break up Falcone's empire, and put a great many people behind bars. And, her testimony is just the tip of the iceberg. She will give you more names of people who will testify, and there are others I know of who are also willing to come forward."
"If I can keep her alive," Gordon commented.
"A recent client of mine, a man by the name of Malone, had a suggestion as to where I could stay," Vasilissa interjected.
Gordon nodded; Gordon had an idea, too.
The dark figure produced a small device, and handed it to Inspector Gordon.
"What's this?"
"It's called a 'Batsignal'," Vasilissa smiled. "Press the green button for a routine meeting; press the red button if you are in immediate, life-threatening danger. Once the button is pressed, Batman is summoned, and there is no way to cancel the meeting," she explained.
"Perhaps you need this more than I do," Gordon suggested, offering the Batsignal to Vasilissa.
"She already has one," the dark figure said, as Vasilissa held up a similar device.
"By the way, Batman," Gordon turned to the figure, "this financial crisis that has developed in Gotham City over the past few days...."
"It could have been prevented by the regulatory commission, all of whose members were appointed by the current mayor."
"So the mayor is pulling the strings on this?" Gordon asked.
"At one level, yes. But, the mayor is just a front man, and is being manipulated, as well."
Gordon thought about that comment, and remembered the figure's words from a previous meeting, where Batman had described the relationship among the mayor, Falcone, Aladdin, and an organization known as "The Demon".
"My father is Ra's al Ghul," Vasilissa added. "I don't know much about him, hardly anything at all, but I will tell you everything I know."
"And just who is Ra's al Ghul?" Inspector Gordon asked.
"'The Head of the Demon' – that's how his name translates," the dark figure answered.
Gordon looked at Vasilissa. Clicking the button on the keyless entry system to his unmarked police cruiser, he motioned to Vasilissa. "If you'll please get in my car, we need to get you to some place safe," he said, turning toward his car.
Stopping, he turned around. "One more thing, Batman," he began, but it was too late; the dark figure was inside the dark vehicle, and the top was already coming down.
"As these cars were attempting to make their escape, their occupants fired automatic weapons at the Batmobile. It seems the Batmobile fired a missile, and the missile destroyed that car there," the officer pointed to the right, "then the Batmobile somehow pivoted and faced in that direction," the officer pointed to the left, "and took off after one of the other cars, which Batman apparently caught on the Gotham Expressway about two miles from here. I heard they counted over one hundred bullet holes in that vehicle."
"'Pivoted?'" O'Hara repeated, looking at the alleyway; there was not enough room for a vehicle to turn around behind the restaurant.
"As in 'on a dime', Detective – those were the exact words of one witness."
O'Hara looked at the officer, as he finished his report. "At this point, we have four dead and seven hospitalized, three of them in intensive care – all perpetrators. None of the victims received significant injuries."
Sasha looked at Alfred, who was on the phone.
"Yes, sir. All is ready." Alfred paused. "I shall tell him, sir. Have a good evening, sir."
Alfred looked at Sasha. "My dear, would you be so kind as to go to the gatehouse? We have a guest who will be arriving. Please escort her to the main house. It is important that we take especially good care of her," Alfred explained.
Sasha nodded. "Bruce told me we might be expecting someone."
"And where is Master Bruce?" Alfred inquired.
"He said he had one more stop to make tonight."
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
The Counterconspiracy: Up in Flames
Vasilissa looked around, trying to maintain her composure.
Mr. Falcone had called asking for some time with her -- on short notice. Though apprehensive, she agreed to get ready, as Carmine explained his driver would pick her up.
After the phone call, in her room by the closet, she looked around, then pulled the device she had been given from her pocket. She looked at it. This was it, she thought. She had been around long enough to know. They were going to dinner at a nice, upscale restaurant; Falcone only took her to places he controlled, and she knew he didn't control this place. Very unusual... this was definitely it. He was on to her, and her time was up.
She firmly pressed the red button on the Batsignal, knowing that now, nothing would stop the meeting -- Batman would know she was in trouble, and would be on his way.
He casually looked at his watch -- a light lit up in one corner of it indicating the Batsignal. It was an emergency, and it had to be from Vasilissa.
Come on, Sasha, he thought.
Looking up at Sandra, he resumed the conversation.
"They deserved a trial."
"What about the families of the heroin addicts? What about the people who are victimized as the addicts commit robberies, muggings and carjackings to raise money to support their habits? What about the girls who get trafficked in, injected with drugs, beaten into submission, and raped, all as preparation to make them prostitutes? What about all these people, Bruce? Don't they deserve a trial?"
"Well, believe me, I see your point, Sandra," Bruce Wayne answered.
"I think of all people, Bruce sees your point," Rachel interjected with a smile, trying to soften the moment.
Just then, Lucius Fox took his cell phone out and looked at it. "Excuse me, please, I have to take this call," he explained, as he answered the phone.
An alarmed look came across his face.
"Yes, I understand. We're on our way. Thanks!"
The call ended, and he urgently looked across the table.
"Bruce, there has been an emergency at Wayne Enterprises. You are needed there immediately. May I suggest that your driver take our companions home when they are done with dinner, and I can drive you to the office?"
Perfect, thought Wayne. Way to go, Sasha! And, that will give Sandra and Rachel a chance to compare notes!
Standing up, he looked around the table. "Ladies, I hope you'll excuse us. If it looks like we'll be able to make it back, we'll call you. Meanwhile, please stay and enjoy your dinner – my treat." Pausing, he added with a smile, "We'll have to continue this conversation later."
Before the ladies could protest, Lucius Fox and Bruce Wayne were already walking toward the door. The woman who was Wayne's driver and bodyguard met them by the host's station near the door.
Silently, Rachel Dawes and Sandra Villanova watched as Bruce Wayne gave some quiet instructions to his driver, who returned to her station near the bar, and to the host and headwaiter, who nodded reassuringly, smiling in the direction of the table where the ladies were.
With that, both Fox and Wayne were out the door, walking quickly.
Turning to Sandra, Rachel wondered aloud, "What do you suppose that is all about?"
The fortune-teller looked at the crystals on the table.
"He is having some doubts about himself and his mission, but angels minister to him."
The fortune-teller looked a little more closely.
"He is surrounded by women," she explained, as the master, hearing this, rolled his eyes, wondering if things would ever change. "Some of the women are torn between him and his enemies, but there is one in his midst who will betray him."
Worried, the master asked, "And what will happen?"
Looking up, her eyes closed, the fortune-teller answered slowly.
"The outcome will be as it was decided anciently: in defense of justice, the warrior will work magic, and he will execute the punishments ordained by Heaven."
"Here it is, Bruce. Now, pay attention, because it has a few new upgrades."
The dark figure, dressed in flowing black, paid close attention to the man who had always been his friend, and much more.
"The laser rangefinder has been completely redesigned. It now duplicates much of the capability of the infrared search and track system. It is tied in to an experimental version of the WomBat, which has a laser beamrider guidance scheme -- just point and shoot."
"How does that work?" the figure asked.
"The laser beam rapidly sweeps out a grid, tracking the target and keeping the target inside the grid."
"Then the system has an autonomous target acquisition capability?"
"Yes. The WomBat has sensors in the back of the missile, detecting the energy from the laser. They will keep the missile in the middle of the grid; it is fire-and-forget, invulnerable to conventional countermeasures -- but watch out for excessive smoke or steam in the air!"
The figure nodded.
"There is now a 5.56mm Gatling gun with 1000 rounds of ammunition. Heads-up! It takes a moment after you depress the trigger to get up to full RPM, so there is a slight delay before it actually begins to fire; the same is true as you release the trigger, there will be a moment when it is still firing."
"So one long burst would be better than several short bursts?"
"Exactly. And, at full RPM, you have ten seconds of Gatling gun."
"Did you take out the fuel-air munition system, and the flamethrower?"
"That's the best part. It was difficult, and it isn't exactly like you wanted it, but here's how the replacement system works...."
Rick shook his head.
The boss had not been happy tonight, and he had looked like he wanted to kill someone.
Donovan was there at the meeting -- he had been especially requested, and Donovan looked a little scared.
The boss began to accuse Donovan of not doing his job.
"This is all leaking out in the alternative news media," the boss pounded his desk, looking at Donovan.
Of course, Falcone had strings he could pull with all of Gotham's mainstream media, so they wouldn't print anything too explosive. But, the alternative media was alive with stories about Batman's recent attacks on Falcone's "Roman Empire", with a great deal of analysis. Some of it was paranoid, but some of it was right on the money, and it was the analysis that was right on the money that was resounding the most in Gotham City's cybersphere.
"It's not coming from GPD, boss. I've got connections, a good network, thanks to you -- you give me plenty of favors to spread around. If it were coming from GPD, I'd know."
Truth was, if it was coming from GPD, the boss would know, too, thought Rick -- Donovan wasn't Falcone's only man at the Gotham Police Department, and Donovan never knew when he was dealing with somebody who also reported back to Mr. Falcone.
Frustrated, the boss asked where all the information about the crime scenes was coming from? Who was the leak passing this to the alternative media? And, there had to be more than one leak.
After a long, ominous silence, Rick -- who did not like speaking at these meetings -- asked the simple question.
"Boss, how many Gotham Firefighters are on your payroll?"
It got deadly silent in the room, as everyone realized -- that was why Batman had been torching Falcone's establishments! It meant firemen were on the scene of every attack, and obviously, nobody had thought to bribe firemen to keep them quiet about what they saw at the crime scene!
Inspector Gordon paced the balcony at his apartment.
The hurried phone call from Rachel Dawes, who was his contact at the DA's office to prosecute this Batman, had been very interesting.
Gordon knew that she was honest. She was perhaps a little naïve at times, but she was hard-working, reliable, and above all, honest.
Gordon had been wondering how, in the midst of a "War on Crime", with law enforcement watching everyone and everything -- especially with the new powers that the mayor had appropriated for law enforcement -- how could all the heroin be moving around Gotham City?
Rachel suddenly had an outrageous idea, but, of course, it was the only explanation that made sense.
The heroin was being transported to Gotham City in official law enforcement vehicles!
The more he thought about it, the more Gordon saw how it was the only explanation that made sense, and it had the advantage of explaining many other observations Gordon had made.
And, if that was true, then it made sense that it wasn't Batman who was the pyro, torching all of these establishments that connected Falcone to the Mujahideen!
The dark vehicle approached the restaurant, moving very slowly and silently down the alleyway behind it. The vehicle was still far enough away that people near the restaurant couldn't see it.
The vehicle's operator engaged the infrared search and track system, bringing its information up on a multifunction display, then correlated that with the location of the Batsignal. Vasilissa was in a room in the back of the building, and it looked like there was one other person in the room with her.
Inspector Gordon thought long and hard.
It wasn't Batman at all -- it was Falcone!
Falcone was trying to kill all the witnesses and destroy all the evidence connecting him to Aladdin. Not only that, but Gordon now knew -- thanks to Batman -- that Falcone had been in on the attack that destroyed the Gotham Towers. Falcone was connected to the heroin trafficking, the corruption in city hall, the mayor, the two candidates running to replace the mayor in the election that was four weeks away... Falcone was connected to all of it.
And now, Falcone was trying to erase it all, by burning down the buildings, killing the witnesses and destroying the evidence in the fires.
And, Batman kept showing up in the nick of time, saving the witnesses and keeping them alive, and saving the paperwork and computers that held the information tying Falcone in to everything, and keeping it all from going up in flames.
That was why the mayor was so adamant that Batman needed to be stopped. The mayor accused Batman of being a pyro, and wanted him locked up, but the truth is, Batman was saving the evidence that connected Falcone to Aladdin in one direction, and Falcone to the mayor and to a whole bunch of others in the other direction.
The dark figure looked at the multifunction displays.
"Bruce..." a feminine voice cut in.
"I see it. I'm getting good coverage from the Batbot."
In addition to Vasilissa, who Falcone now wanted dead, the restaurant was full of innocent people, and Falcone's men were outside it, locking the fire exits from the outside, while three men hurried inside, obviously to torch the place -- and obviously planning to blame it all on Batman!
Mr. Falcone had called asking for some time with her -- on short notice. Though apprehensive, she agreed to get ready, as Carmine explained his driver would pick her up.
After the phone call, in her room by the closet, she looked around, then pulled the device she had been given from her pocket. She looked at it. This was it, she thought. She had been around long enough to know. They were going to dinner at a nice, upscale restaurant; Falcone only took her to places he controlled, and she knew he didn't control this place. Very unusual... this was definitely it. He was on to her, and her time was up.
She firmly pressed the red button on the Batsignal, knowing that now, nothing would stop the meeting -- Batman would know she was in trouble, and would be on his way.
He casually looked at his watch -- a light lit up in one corner of it indicating the Batsignal. It was an emergency, and it had to be from Vasilissa.
Come on, Sasha, he thought.
Looking up at Sandra, he resumed the conversation.
"They deserved a trial."
"What about the families of the heroin addicts? What about the people who are victimized as the addicts commit robberies, muggings and carjackings to raise money to support their habits? What about the girls who get trafficked in, injected with drugs, beaten into submission, and raped, all as preparation to make them prostitutes? What about all these people, Bruce? Don't they deserve a trial?"
"Well, believe me, I see your point, Sandra," Bruce Wayne answered.
"I think of all people, Bruce sees your point," Rachel interjected with a smile, trying to soften the moment.
Just then, Lucius Fox took his cell phone out and looked at it. "Excuse me, please, I have to take this call," he explained, as he answered the phone.
An alarmed look came across his face.
"Yes, I understand. We're on our way. Thanks!"
The call ended, and he urgently looked across the table.
"Bruce, there has been an emergency at Wayne Enterprises. You are needed there immediately. May I suggest that your driver take our companions home when they are done with dinner, and I can drive you to the office?"
Perfect, thought Wayne. Way to go, Sasha! And, that will give Sandra and Rachel a chance to compare notes!
Standing up, he looked around the table. "Ladies, I hope you'll excuse us. If it looks like we'll be able to make it back, we'll call you. Meanwhile, please stay and enjoy your dinner – my treat." Pausing, he added with a smile, "We'll have to continue this conversation later."
Before the ladies could protest, Lucius Fox and Bruce Wayne were already walking toward the door. The woman who was Wayne's driver and bodyguard met them by the host's station near the door.
Silently, Rachel Dawes and Sandra Villanova watched as Bruce Wayne gave some quiet instructions to his driver, who returned to her station near the bar, and to the host and headwaiter, who nodded reassuringly, smiling in the direction of the table where the ladies were.
With that, both Fox and Wayne were out the door, walking quickly.
Turning to Sandra, Rachel wondered aloud, "What do you suppose that is all about?"
The fortune-teller looked at the crystals on the table.
"He is having some doubts about himself and his mission, but angels minister to him."
The fortune-teller looked a little more closely.
"He is surrounded by women," she explained, as the master, hearing this, rolled his eyes, wondering if things would ever change. "Some of the women are torn between him and his enemies, but there is one in his midst who will betray him."
Worried, the master asked, "And what will happen?"
Looking up, her eyes closed, the fortune-teller answered slowly.
"The outcome will be as it was decided anciently: in defense of justice, the warrior will work magic, and he will execute the punishments ordained by Heaven."
"Here it is, Bruce. Now, pay attention, because it has a few new upgrades."
The dark figure, dressed in flowing black, paid close attention to the man who had always been his friend, and much more.
"The laser rangefinder has been completely redesigned. It now duplicates much of the capability of the infrared search and track system. It is tied in to an experimental version of the WomBat, which has a laser beamrider guidance scheme -- just point and shoot."
"How does that work?" the figure asked.
"The laser beam rapidly sweeps out a grid, tracking the target and keeping the target inside the grid."
"Then the system has an autonomous target acquisition capability?"
"Yes. The WomBat has sensors in the back of the missile, detecting the energy from the laser. They will keep the missile in the middle of the grid; it is fire-and-forget, invulnerable to conventional countermeasures -- but watch out for excessive smoke or steam in the air!"
The figure nodded.
"There is now a 5.56mm Gatling gun with 1000 rounds of ammunition. Heads-up! It takes a moment after you depress the trigger to get up to full RPM, so there is a slight delay before it actually begins to fire; the same is true as you release the trigger, there will be a moment when it is still firing."
"So one long burst would be better than several short bursts?"
"Exactly. And, at full RPM, you have ten seconds of Gatling gun."
"Did you take out the fuel-air munition system, and the flamethrower?"
"That's the best part. It was difficult, and it isn't exactly like you wanted it, but here's how the replacement system works...."
Rick shook his head.
The boss had not been happy tonight, and he had looked like he wanted to kill someone.
Donovan was there at the meeting -- he had been especially requested, and Donovan looked a little scared.
The boss began to accuse Donovan of not doing his job.
"This is all leaking out in the alternative news media," the boss pounded his desk, looking at Donovan.
Of course, Falcone had strings he could pull with all of Gotham's mainstream media, so they wouldn't print anything too explosive. But, the alternative media was alive with stories about Batman's recent attacks on Falcone's "Roman Empire", with a great deal of analysis. Some of it was paranoid, but some of it was right on the money, and it was the analysis that was right on the money that was resounding the most in Gotham City's cybersphere.
"It's not coming from GPD, boss. I've got connections, a good network, thanks to you -- you give me plenty of favors to spread around. If it were coming from GPD, I'd know."
Truth was, if it was coming from GPD, the boss would know, too, thought Rick -- Donovan wasn't Falcone's only man at the Gotham Police Department, and Donovan never knew when he was dealing with somebody who also reported back to Mr. Falcone.
Frustrated, the boss asked where all the information about the crime scenes was coming from? Who was the leak passing this to the alternative media? And, there had to be more than one leak.
After a long, ominous silence, Rick -- who did not like speaking at these meetings -- asked the simple question.
"Boss, how many Gotham Firefighters are on your payroll?"
It got deadly silent in the room, as everyone realized -- that was why Batman had been torching Falcone's establishments! It meant firemen were on the scene of every attack, and obviously, nobody had thought to bribe firemen to keep them quiet about what they saw at the crime scene!
Inspector Gordon paced the balcony at his apartment.
The hurried phone call from Rachel Dawes, who was his contact at the DA's office to prosecute this Batman, had been very interesting.
Gordon knew that she was honest. She was perhaps a little naïve at times, but she was hard-working, reliable, and above all, honest.
Gordon had been wondering how, in the midst of a "War on Crime", with law enforcement watching everyone and everything -- especially with the new powers that the mayor had appropriated for law enforcement -- how could all the heroin be moving around Gotham City?
Rachel suddenly had an outrageous idea, but, of course, it was the only explanation that made sense.
The heroin was being transported to Gotham City in official law enforcement vehicles!
The more he thought about it, the more Gordon saw how it was the only explanation that made sense, and it had the advantage of explaining many other observations Gordon had made.
And, if that was true, then it made sense that it wasn't Batman who was the pyro, torching all of these establishments that connected Falcone to the Mujahideen!
The dark vehicle approached the restaurant, moving very slowly and silently down the alleyway behind it. The vehicle was still far enough away that people near the restaurant couldn't see it.
The vehicle's operator engaged the infrared search and track system, bringing its information up on a multifunction display, then correlated that with the location of the Batsignal. Vasilissa was in a room in the back of the building, and it looked like there was one other person in the room with her.
Inspector Gordon thought long and hard.
It wasn't Batman at all -- it was Falcone!
Falcone was trying to kill all the witnesses and destroy all the evidence connecting him to Aladdin. Not only that, but Gordon now knew -- thanks to Batman -- that Falcone had been in on the attack that destroyed the Gotham Towers. Falcone was connected to the heroin trafficking, the corruption in city hall, the mayor, the two candidates running to replace the mayor in the election that was four weeks away... Falcone was connected to all of it.
And now, Falcone was trying to erase it all, by burning down the buildings, killing the witnesses and destroying the evidence in the fires.
And, Batman kept showing up in the nick of time, saving the witnesses and keeping them alive, and saving the paperwork and computers that held the information tying Falcone in to everything, and keeping it all from going up in flames.
That was why the mayor was so adamant that Batman needed to be stopped. The mayor accused Batman of being a pyro, and wanted him locked up, but the truth is, Batman was saving the evidence that connected Falcone to Aladdin in one direction, and Falcone to the mayor and to a whole bunch of others in the other direction.
The dark figure looked at the multifunction displays.
"Bruce..." a feminine voice cut in.
"I see it. I'm getting good coverage from the Batbot."
In addition to Vasilissa, who Falcone now wanted dead, the restaurant was full of innocent people, and Falcone's men were outside it, locking the fire exits from the outside, while three men hurried inside, obviously to torch the place -- and obviously planning to blame it all on Batman!
Monday, October 6, 2008
The Counterconspiracy: "Vigilante" Part 2
"What about this 'Batman'?"
Dr. Sandra Villanova repeated Bruce Wayne's question, then looked around thoughtfully.
"I..." she began, then stopped.
"I was about to begin by saying that I don't condone vigilantism, but, damn it, I will not begin by apologizing for how I feel."
She smiled and looked at Rachel and Lucius, then continued.
"His most recent exploit disrupted a major operation. Gotham's elite was giving arms, cocaine and money to Aladdin's Mujahideen, and apparently receiving heroin and sex slaves for forced prostitution in return. Batman broke that up, destroying the drugs, money and guns, and releasing the women." She looked straight at Bruce Wayne. "I think it's great! If Gotham's authorities can't – or won't – stop this type of activity, then someone has to, and I think what Batman did is great!"
Rachel Dawes keyed in on Dr. Villanova's words, questioning whether Gotham's authorities might be able to do more than they are doing.
That was strange, she thought, shuddering as she recalled what had transpired that morning.
Dawes had been outside the mayor's office, talking to one of the mayor's staff. The staff member stepped away, as Inspector Gordon went in to speak to the mayor. It was quiet enough where she was sitting that she could just overhear most of the conversation.
"That's not the way I read it at all, Mr. Mayor."
Inspector Gordon looked at the mayor, then walked across the mayor's office to look out the window at Gotham City.
"How do you read it, then, Inspector?"
"He torches a warehouse full of heroin belonging to Aladdin. Then he torches a cathouse, releasing the hookers who, it turns out, were being held there against their will, many of them addicted to heroin – he even gives them the money from the place which, after all, they had been forced to earn. Next, he torches the cars of two underworld hitmen, then a few hours later, he broke into the backroom of a club frequented by the staffers of Gotham's politicians; by the time we got there, the shady types running the place had been roughed up, left in the alley with their drugs and guns, and the place was on fire. Finally he breaks up a drug deal, destroying another warehouse full of heroin, cocaine, synthetic drugs, arms and money."
Inspector Gordon paused, his back to the mayor.
"That's my point. This 'Batman' is a loose cannon, and now he's gone pyro. He's a menace to everyone, regardless of which side of the law they're on. And he needs to be stopped."
"Like I said, that's not the way I read it, Mr. Mayor." Gordon turned around. "He's not a loose cannon."
"Then what's the connection?" The mayor looked at Gordon.
"In each case, except for the hitmen, heroin was found on the scene, often times with other drugs – cocaine, designer drugs – but always hard narcotics, good-quality heroin – the kind Aladdin is known to supply to finance his operations." Gordon paused. "Those two hitmen, of course, didn't have any heroin on them, but they've been known to do work for narcotics-traffickers."
Gordon studied the ceiling thoughtfully. "In each case, the guys he was fighting were roughed up, then left there for the police, except for the last case, where many of them were killed or very seriously injured. In each case, police-grade weapons were found – weapons that had been illegally procured."
Gordon's gaze lowered from the ceiling to the wall above the mayor.
"In the first two cases, important papers were brought out of the buildings and left near the guys he had fought, in a place where the cops would find them. In the last case, instead of papers connecting different parts of Gotham's underworld, it was corpses – the dead men found at the scene came from two different organized crime factions, which, thanks to Batman, we now know are working together."
Gordon paused. "Whether papers or corpses, the ties they show are between these operations on the one hand, and, on the other, businesses that are somehow connected to Mr. Carmine Falcone."
Inspector Gordon enunciated Falcone's name slowly and carefully, and at mention of his name, the mayor froze – it was almost imperceptible, but Gordon caught it in his peripheral vision.
"In each case, more evidence was found connecting the operations to front organizations, including to political action committees – including political action committees that have donated money to Councilman McMullen, the man you have endorsed to replace you, and to the running mate of Councilman McMullen's opposite number."
"Lidden? As in 'Salama and Lidden'?" the mayor asked, attempting to feign disinterest.
"Yep," Gordon answered.
"I don't like Lidden's politics, or Salama's for that matter, but I have worked with Lidden for years now."
"Well, it appears that for years now, both Lidden and McMullen have been endorsed by the same organization – an organization that held its meetings in that nightclub that Batman torched. The organization is run by a former alderman, now a lobbyist." Gordon paused, then added, "And on the wall there were pictures of him with McMullen, of him with Lidden – and of him with you and your vice-mayor."
The mayor smiled. "Inspector Gordon, I don't know what your political agenda is this election cycle, but you have a job to do..." the mayor began.
"And I'm doing it," Gordon interrupted. "I was placed in charge of this interagency task force to bring in Batman, and I've been at the crime scenes, examining the evidence, trying to get inside him, trying to figure out where he's coming from, and where he's going."
"I'll tell you where he's coming from. He's a pyro." The mayor leaned forward and looked at Gordon. "And I want him behind bars."
"Not so much a pyro as a vigilante, Mr. Mayor." Gordon's eyes were still surveying the wall above the mayor's head. "Maybe even a detective," Gordon added thoughtfully. "I think Batman is painting a picture for us... I think he's showing us what this 'War on Crime' is really about. There's a trail that begins with Aladdin and the heroin he produces to fund his crime spree, and that trail leads through all the vices of Gotham City – guns, drugs, prostitutes – and it leads through Gotham's political and business elites, who themselves are dipped in smut and vice and the money that comes with it... it's a trail that leads from Aladdin on one end – " and here Inspector Gordon lowered his eyes, and looked right into the mayor's eyes " – and right through city hall to this office on the other end. It's a trail that leads to you and to the men running in this election cycle, one of whom hopes to take your place in January."
The silence was short, but deafening.
"You have quite an imagination, Jim," the mayor smiled.
"I hope I do, Mr. Mayor," Gordon answered, standing up. "But we'll see where the evidence leads," Gordon smiled. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a pyro to catch."
Rachel snapped back to the present, and looked at Bruce Wayne, sitting on her right.
Wayne took a sip of his wine, then looked at the wine bottle, staring at its label.
"Batman killed over two dozen people. Another dozen or so remain hospitalized. Some of them may still die. The remainder will be horribly scarred and disfigured for the rest of their lives," Bruce Wayne said quietly.
"I saw the video. I watched it several times. I read the reports. Those men were in the process of committing multiple felonies – arms-, narcotics- and human-trafficking. Batman interrupted them in the very act. They were about to commit more felonies, including rape and kidnapping. Those drugs would have hit Gotham's streets and destroyed the lives of countless addicts, fueling street crime as the addicts resorted to robberies and thefts to get money to buy their fixes. Many of the heroin addicts die from the unexpected high quality of Aladdin's heroin, heroin which Batman kept off the streets the other night," Sandra added. "And, who knows what Aladdin would have done with the weapons he had bought?"
Sandra paused, and looked at Bruce.
"And, the men that got killed were trying to kill Batman."
Dr. Sandra Villanova repeated Bruce Wayne's question, then looked around thoughtfully.
"I..." she began, then stopped.
"I was about to begin by saying that I don't condone vigilantism, but, damn it, I will not begin by apologizing for how I feel."
She smiled and looked at Rachel and Lucius, then continued.
"His most recent exploit disrupted a major operation. Gotham's elite was giving arms, cocaine and money to Aladdin's Mujahideen, and apparently receiving heroin and sex slaves for forced prostitution in return. Batman broke that up, destroying the drugs, money and guns, and releasing the women." She looked straight at Bruce Wayne. "I think it's great! If Gotham's authorities can't – or won't – stop this type of activity, then someone has to, and I think what Batman did is great!"
Rachel Dawes keyed in on Dr. Villanova's words, questioning whether Gotham's authorities might be able to do more than they are doing.
That was strange, she thought, shuddering as she recalled what had transpired that morning.
Dawes had been outside the mayor's office, talking to one of the mayor's staff. The staff member stepped away, as Inspector Gordon went in to speak to the mayor. It was quiet enough where she was sitting that she could just overhear most of the conversation.
"That's not the way I read it at all, Mr. Mayor."
Inspector Gordon looked at the mayor, then walked across the mayor's office to look out the window at Gotham City.
"How do you read it, then, Inspector?"
"He torches a warehouse full of heroin belonging to Aladdin. Then he torches a cathouse, releasing the hookers who, it turns out, were being held there against their will, many of them addicted to heroin – he even gives them the money from the place which, after all, they had been forced to earn. Next, he torches the cars of two underworld hitmen, then a few hours later, he broke into the backroom of a club frequented by the staffers of Gotham's politicians; by the time we got there, the shady types running the place had been roughed up, left in the alley with their drugs and guns, and the place was on fire. Finally he breaks up a drug deal, destroying another warehouse full of heroin, cocaine, synthetic drugs, arms and money."
Inspector Gordon paused, his back to the mayor.
"That's my point. This 'Batman' is a loose cannon, and now he's gone pyro. He's a menace to everyone, regardless of which side of the law they're on. And he needs to be stopped."
"Like I said, that's not the way I read it, Mr. Mayor." Gordon turned around. "He's not a loose cannon."
"Then what's the connection?" The mayor looked at Gordon.
"In each case, except for the hitmen, heroin was found on the scene, often times with other drugs – cocaine, designer drugs – but always hard narcotics, good-quality heroin – the kind Aladdin is known to supply to finance his operations." Gordon paused. "Those two hitmen, of course, didn't have any heroin on them, but they've been known to do work for narcotics-traffickers."
Gordon studied the ceiling thoughtfully. "In each case, the guys he was fighting were roughed up, then left there for the police, except for the last case, where many of them were killed or very seriously injured. In each case, police-grade weapons were found – weapons that had been illegally procured."
Gordon's gaze lowered from the ceiling to the wall above the mayor.
"In the first two cases, important papers were brought out of the buildings and left near the guys he had fought, in a place where the cops would find them. In the last case, instead of papers connecting different parts of Gotham's underworld, it was corpses – the dead men found at the scene came from two different organized crime factions, which, thanks to Batman, we now know are working together."
Gordon paused. "Whether papers or corpses, the ties they show are between these operations on the one hand, and, on the other, businesses that are somehow connected to Mr. Carmine Falcone."
Inspector Gordon enunciated Falcone's name slowly and carefully, and at mention of his name, the mayor froze – it was almost imperceptible, but Gordon caught it in his peripheral vision.
"In each case, more evidence was found connecting the operations to front organizations, including to political action committees – including political action committees that have donated money to Councilman McMullen, the man you have endorsed to replace you, and to the running mate of Councilman McMullen's opposite number."
"Lidden? As in 'Salama and Lidden'?" the mayor asked, attempting to feign disinterest.
"Yep," Gordon answered.
"I don't like Lidden's politics, or Salama's for that matter, but I have worked with Lidden for years now."
"Well, it appears that for years now, both Lidden and McMullen have been endorsed by the same organization – an organization that held its meetings in that nightclub that Batman torched. The organization is run by a former alderman, now a lobbyist." Gordon paused, then added, "And on the wall there were pictures of him with McMullen, of him with Lidden – and of him with you and your vice-mayor."
The mayor smiled. "Inspector Gordon, I don't know what your political agenda is this election cycle, but you have a job to do..." the mayor began.
"And I'm doing it," Gordon interrupted. "I was placed in charge of this interagency task force to bring in Batman, and I've been at the crime scenes, examining the evidence, trying to get inside him, trying to figure out where he's coming from, and where he's going."
"I'll tell you where he's coming from. He's a pyro." The mayor leaned forward and looked at Gordon. "And I want him behind bars."
"Not so much a pyro as a vigilante, Mr. Mayor." Gordon's eyes were still surveying the wall above the mayor's head. "Maybe even a detective," Gordon added thoughtfully. "I think Batman is painting a picture for us... I think he's showing us what this 'War on Crime' is really about. There's a trail that begins with Aladdin and the heroin he produces to fund his crime spree, and that trail leads through all the vices of Gotham City – guns, drugs, prostitutes – and it leads through Gotham's political and business elites, who themselves are dipped in smut and vice and the money that comes with it... it's a trail that leads from Aladdin on one end – " and here Inspector Gordon lowered his eyes, and looked right into the mayor's eyes " – and right through city hall to this office on the other end. It's a trail that leads to you and to the men running in this election cycle, one of whom hopes to take your place in January."
The silence was short, but deafening.
"You have quite an imagination, Jim," the mayor smiled.
"I hope I do, Mr. Mayor," Gordon answered, standing up. "But we'll see where the evidence leads," Gordon smiled. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a pyro to catch."
Rachel snapped back to the present, and looked at Bruce Wayne, sitting on her right.
Wayne took a sip of his wine, then looked at the wine bottle, staring at its label.
"Batman killed over two dozen people. Another dozen or so remain hospitalized. Some of them may still die. The remainder will be horribly scarred and disfigured for the rest of their lives," Bruce Wayne said quietly.
"I saw the video. I watched it several times. I read the reports. Those men were in the process of committing multiple felonies – arms-, narcotics- and human-trafficking. Batman interrupted them in the very act. They were about to commit more felonies, including rape and kidnapping. Those drugs would have hit Gotham's streets and destroyed the lives of countless addicts, fueling street crime as the addicts resorted to robberies and thefts to get money to buy their fixes. Many of the heroin addicts die from the unexpected high quality of Aladdin's heroin, heroin which Batman kept off the streets the other night," Sandra added. "And, who knows what Aladdin would have done with the weapons he had bought?"
Sandra paused, and looked at Bruce.
"And, the men that got killed were trying to kill Batman."
Saturday, October 4, 2008
The Counterconspiracy: "Vigilante" Part 1
Dr. Sandra Villanova hurried into the restaurant. It was less than five minutes after eight. For business appointments, Dr. Villanova was usually five to ten minutes early; however, for social gatherings, she liked to be just a few minutes after the appointed time, what was, to her way of thinking, "fashionably late".
She stood for a moment looking for Bruce Wayne's table. She knew what kind of places in a restaurant Bruce liked – semi-secluded places, not easily visible from the door, but with a good view of the door area. She also liked spotting Bruce's table before the host or hostess could come to help seat her. Tonight, though, it was tough – the restaurant was nearly full and very animated.
She frowned, and began looking for Sasha, who, Sandra knew, would be keeping an eye on Bruce from a discrete distance. No Sasha, either. Was she in the right place? There was a beautiful, athletic-looking woman sitting near the bar, alone, looking at her. The woman then glanced over toward a table in the corner. There, behind the plants! That was Bruce! So, Sandra thought as the host approached, Bruce had a new bodyguard – and a very attractive one!
She frowned a little more.
"Good evening. Dr. Sandra Villanova. Bruce Wayne is expecting me," she announced, looking again at the woman by the bar.
"Of course," the host answered, and, in that moment, Bruce Wayne stood up and waved at Sandra, who walked over and greeted him warmly. Images of Bruce Wayne hugging Dr. Sandra Villanova would be on Gotham's tabloid websites before midnight, she thought.
Sandra turned to the other guests at the table. "Lucius, good to see you again!"
"Hello, Sandra," Lucius Fox greeted her.
"And Sandra, this is Rachel – Rachel Dawes. She's the one I told you about, who works in the DA's office," Bruce explained, as Rachel held out her hand.
"How do you do," Sandra smiled.
"Hi! It's a pleasure to meet you," Rachel smiled back.
Once again, the master was walking by the fortune-teller's hut. It was very early in the morning, still quite dark. The only people out were the merchants at the market, getting ready for the day's business.
The master looked – incredibly, the fortune-teller, too, was up. A light was on inside her hut.
The master was very curious for more news from Gotham City – reliable news, the kind the fortune-teller provided, about their mutual friend.
But, he thought, there is no way he could bother her at this hour, even if she is up!
He had just decided to stroll through the market, when the fortune-teller's door opened, and she stepped outside.
She looked right at him. "Good morning," she smiled.
"Good morning," he answered. "You are up very early."
"Yes," she answered. "I have been expecting you."
"Even walking over to your table, I overheard the guests at one table near the door talking about this Batman," Sandra commented, as Lucius poured her a glass of wine.
"Yes, Batman and the election," Lucius added. "Right now, they seem to be running neck-and-neck."
"Who? McMullen and Salama?" asked Rachel.
"No," answered Lucius, "the election and Batman."
Everyone except Bruce smiled.
The fortune-teller usually set her table outside somewhere between eight and ten in the morning, then went about her daily routine, which included sewing clothes and making tiny objects of art. She often sold these to supplement her income, but also often gave them as gifts to her clients. She felt as if her talent was a gift from Heaven, so she would not want to charge for "counseling" people, as she described it, though, since it took much of her time, and she had to support not just herself, but her mother and daughter as well, she accepted the gifts that people offered her. Often it was money, but often a farmer would offer her a bag of his produce, or a villager would offer her an article of clothing or something else.
Though she usually received them outside, it would occasionally happen that she would receive guests who needed counseling in her house, and, rarely, this would happen at an odd hour. This morning was such an occasion.
The master sat down quietly, aware that in the next room, behind a curtain, the woman's mother and daughter were sleeping.
"You are concerned about our friend," the fortune-teller said. "So am I. Please, do not stand on formalities," she added – her way of getting down to business, and of letting him know that no gift was anticipated for her services this morning.
"That was terrible, what Councilman McMullen did to his running mate," Rachel opined.
"Wasn't it, though?" agreed Sandra.
"What was that?" asked Bruce, somewhat distractedly.
"Oh, really, Bruce," Rachel began. "While she was preparing for a debate with Councilman Lidden, McMullen decided to stop campaigning in one of Gotham City's northern wards. He didn't consult with her, he didn't even tell her – she found out about it after the debate, through the media."
Sandra shook her head. "It just shows how much he really thinks of her. She's a pretty face for his campaign, and that's it." Sandra sipped her wine, then added, "It's too bad, too, because she is the only one of the three I like. I don't agree with all of her politics, and I wonder how ready she would be to lead Gotham City in an emergency, but at least she's sincere, and of the four – her, McMullen, Salama and Lidden – she's the only one that I think might be honest."
Rachel looked up at Sandra – that was an odd comment. Not many people were questioning the honesty of any of the candidates, though she had just that morning overheard a very key person doing just that, and in a very key place.
Sandra, for her part, feigned interest in the menu, but noticed Rachel's glance.
By the dim light of a small light bulb, the fortune-teller lit some candles, and she lit some incense as well.
This was good, as the mosquito-proofing of her hut left something to be desired, and the smoke from the incense would help drive away the mosquitoes that had made it inside.
The master looked, and made a mental note – it looked like the fortune-teller might need some more incense, and perhaps some more candles.
"But, what about this 'Batman'?" Sandra asked, hoping to steer the conversation a little.
Rachel, being from the DA's office, had some thoughts on the laws that Batman had broken. As a person living in Gotham, she would have to admit being somewhat torn – she did not approve of vigilantism, assuming that was what it was about (there was still concern in Gotham's law enforcement community that Batman might be an organized crime hit man) but, more importantly, she was interested in hearing Bruce Wayne's thoughts. Bruce had in the past expressed a great deal of anger towards Gotham's criminal element, which was not surprising, all things considered, so Rachel wanted to hear how he felt about Batman, before she might offer her own thoughts.
"Did I say something wrong?" Sandra smiled, noticing the silence, and noticing how Lucius looked at Bruce.
"Not at all," Bruce said, with a suddenly charming smile. "It's just that...."
"I think crime and violent deaths are often a little touchy as subjects for Bruce, even though Bruce himself may not realize it," Lucius interjected.
Sandra nodded, smiling at Bruce. "This is very good wine," she began an attempt at changing the subject.
Bruce smiled again. "It's okay, Sandra," he interrupted. There was a pause. "What about this 'Batman'?"
She stood for a moment looking for Bruce Wayne's table. She knew what kind of places in a restaurant Bruce liked – semi-secluded places, not easily visible from the door, but with a good view of the door area. She also liked spotting Bruce's table before the host or hostess could come to help seat her. Tonight, though, it was tough – the restaurant was nearly full and very animated.
She frowned, and began looking for Sasha, who, Sandra knew, would be keeping an eye on Bruce from a discrete distance. No Sasha, either. Was she in the right place? There was a beautiful, athletic-looking woman sitting near the bar, alone, looking at her. The woman then glanced over toward a table in the corner. There, behind the plants! That was Bruce! So, Sandra thought as the host approached, Bruce had a new bodyguard – and a very attractive one!
She frowned a little more.
"Good evening. Dr. Sandra Villanova. Bruce Wayne is expecting me," she announced, looking again at the woman by the bar.
"Of course," the host answered, and, in that moment, Bruce Wayne stood up and waved at Sandra, who walked over and greeted him warmly. Images of Bruce Wayne hugging Dr. Sandra Villanova would be on Gotham's tabloid websites before midnight, she thought.
Sandra turned to the other guests at the table. "Lucius, good to see you again!"
"Hello, Sandra," Lucius Fox greeted her.
"And Sandra, this is Rachel – Rachel Dawes. She's the one I told you about, who works in the DA's office," Bruce explained, as Rachel held out her hand.
"How do you do," Sandra smiled.
"Hi! It's a pleasure to meet you," Rachel smiled back.
Once again, the master was walking by the fortune-teller's hut. It was very early in the morning, still quite dark. The only people out were the merchants at the market, getting ready for the day's business.
The master looked – incredibly, the fortune-teller, too, was up. A light was on inside her hut.
The master was very curious for more news from Gotham City – reliable news, the kind the fortune-teller provided, about their mutual friend.
But, he thought, there is no way he could bother her at this hour, even if she is up!
He had just decided to stroll through the market, when the fortune-teller's door opened, and she stepped outside.
She looked right at him. "Good morning," she smiled.
"Good morning," he answered. "You are up very early."
"Yes," she answered. "I have been expecting you."
"Even walking over to your table, I overheard the guests at one table near the door talking about this Batman," Sandra commented, as Lucius poured her a glass of wine.
"Yes, Batman and the election," Lucius added. "Right now, they seem to be running neck-and-neck."
"Who? McMullen and Salama?" asked Rachel.
"No," answered Lucius, "the election and Batman."
Everyone except Bruce smiled.
The fortune-teller usually set her table outside somewhere between eight and ten in the morning, then went about her daily routine, which included sewing clothes and making tiny objects of art. She often sold these to supplement her income, but also often gave them as gifts to her clients. She felt as if her talent was a gift from Heaven, so she would not want to charge for "counseling" people, as she described it, though, since it took much of her time, and she had to support not just herself, but her mother and daughter as well, she accepted the gifts that people offered her. Often it was money, but often a farmer would offer her a bag of his produce, or a villager would offer her an article of clothing or something else.
Though she usually received them outside, it would occasionally happen that she would receive guests who needed counseling in her house, and, rarely, this would happen at an odd hour. This morning was such an occasion.
The master sat down quietly, aware that in the next room, behind a curtain, the woman's mother and daughter were sleeping.
"You are concerned about our friend," the fortune-teller said. "So am I. Please, do not stand on formalities," she added – her way of getting down to business, and of letting him know that no gift was anticipated for her services this morning.
"That was terrible, what Councilman McMullen did to his running mate," Rachel opined.
"Wasn't it, though?" agreed Sandra.
"What was that?" asked Bruce, somewhat distractedly.
"Oh, really, Bruce," Rachel began. "While she was preparing for a debate with Councilman Lidden, McMullen decided to stop campaigning in one of Gotham City's northern wards. He didn't consult with her, he didn't even tell her – she found out about it after the debate, through the media."
Sandra shook her head. "It just shows how much he really thinks of her. She's a pretty face for his campaign, and that's it." Sandra sipped her wine, then added, "It's too bad, too, because she is the only one of the three I like. I don't agree with all of her politics, and I wonder how ready she would be to lead Gotham City in an emergency, but at least she's sincere, and of the four – her, McMullen, Salama and Lidden – she's the only one that I think might be honest."
Rachel looked up at Sandra – that was an odd comment. Not many people were questioning the honesty of any of the candidates, though she had just that morning overheard a very key person doing just that, and in a very key place.
Sandra, for her part, feigned interest in the menu, but noticed Rachel's glance.
By the dim light of a small light bulb, the fortune-teller lit some candles, and she lit some incense as well.
This was good, as the mosquito-proofing of her hut left something to be desired, and the smoke from the incense would help drive away the mosquitoes that had made it inside.
The master looked, and made a mental note – it looked like the fortune-teller might need some more incense, and perhaps some more candles.
"But, what about this 'Batman'?" Sandra asked, hoping to steer the conversation a little.
Rachel, being from the DA's office, had some thoughts on the laws that Batman had broken. As a person living in Gotham, she would have to admit being somewhat torn – she did not approve of vigilantism, assuming that was what it was about (there was still concern in Gotham's law enforcement community that Batman might be an organized crime hit man) but, more importantly, she was interested in hearing Bruce Wayne's thoughts. Bruce had in the past expressed a great deal of anger towards Gotham's criminal element, which was not surprising, all things considered, so Rachel wanted to hear how he felt about Batman, before she might offer her own thoughts.
"Did I say something wrong?" Sandra smiled, noticing the silence, and noticing how Lucius looked at Bruce.
"Not at all," Bruce said, with a suddenly charming smile. "It's just that...."
"I think crime and violent deaths are often a little touchy as subjects for Bruce, even though Bruce himself may not realize it," Lucius interjected.
Sandra nodded, smiling at Bruce. "This is very good wine," she began an attempt at changing the subject.
Bruce smiled again. "It's okay, Sandra," he interrupted. There was a pause. "What about this 'Batman'?"
Friday, October 3, 2008
The Counterconspiracy: "Cowboy Justice"
He got out of his car and just stood there, looking around, and shaking his head.
"Good morning, Inspector Gordon," the patrolman greeted him.
"Is it, really? Is it morning? And, is it good?" Gordon looked at him.
Immediately, Gordon regretted his response. He was, in his own way, being friendly and frank to the patrolman, but the patrolman did not know Gordon very well, and had no way of knowing this. Consequently, the patrolman was wondering what the problem was, and whether Gordon was just in a bad mood.
"What do we got?" Gordon asked, looking around.
A warehouse had been destroyed, a yacht had been sunk, there was debris everywhere... on top of that, there were bags of drugs, there were weapons, and there was money. Gotham police had sealed off the area, and firefighters and paramedics were on the scene; the fires had been put out and most of the injured had already been evacuated, over a dozen of them to intensive care wards around Gotham City. Gordon could see nearly a dozen tarps covering people who were dead on the scene.
Seeing Inspector Gordon's gaze pause on the tarps, the patrolman began. "There are several more dead in the warehouse. We haven't been able to really get in there yet."
"Were there any witnesses?"
"Mainly some women. Hookers, scantily clad. They don't speak a lot of English. From what we can make out, they didn't see much. Some kind of a covering had been thrown over them right as all this began."
"Where are they now?" Gordon asked.
"Over there, in the crime scene vans." The officer pointed off beyond the utility shed, and Gordon looked and saw two vans. Inside the vans, he could see some women huddled in blankets.
"Hookers? They were trafficked in for a party. They're not here because they want to be. Has anyone offered them some hot coffee or something?"
"I'm not sure, sir."
"Let's do that. And make sure we get some interpreters down here, pronto!"
"Yes, sir!" With that, the patrolman hurried off toward the crime scene vans, as Inspector Gordon stood and looked around some more, shaking his head.
Dr. Sandra Villanova sat at her desk, staring at her computer, and shook her head.
"What a creep!" she said aloud, even though she was alone in her apartment.
It had now been two full days since the news broke about Batman's latest exploit, an attack that broke up a drug deal and left dozens of people dead. Gotham's media were not giving many details, only emphasizing the violence of what was being portrayed, more than likely correctly, as a vigilante act. The alternative media, however, had more factual reporting and substantial analysis.
Dr. Villanova looked at the clock on her computer – it was almost 7:00. In order to meet Bruce Wayne for dinner, she had to leave by 7:15. It promised to be an interesting evening, as there would be three of them. At first Sandra was hesitant, as the third person was a woman, but then she found out that it was an old friend of Bruce's who worked in the district attorney's office, and not one of the many "lady-friends" Bruce was said by the tabloids to have. Since she was just a friend (which, actually, Sandra herself was, as well), she agreed to meet them, just to get out for a while. Hearing, though, that this friend worked in the DA's office just sweetened the deal, as Sandra was hoping to hear some of the inside story about the investigation into this "Batman", with whom Sandra also was acquainted.
Meanwhile, Sandra still had several minutes to browse the Internet, so she looked again at the page she was on.
Within several hours of the attack on the riverfront, a video appeared on-line. It had been taken with someone's cell phone, and the picture quality was not very good, but the last half of the attack was visible.
As the video began, by the light of the burning warehouse, a dark shape could be seen moving. Strangely, no light reflected off the dark shape, but rather, the dark shape could be seen against the dim light reflecting off objects behind it. The first time she saw the video, Dr. Villanova missed the dark shape completely, until....
A shiver went down her spine. And to think she knew this Batman!
In front of the dark shape, there were some men firing automatic weapons at it. Suddenly, from the dark shape erupted a stream of fire. She found out later on by reading the comments to the video that this was the vehicle's flamethrower. The flamethrower set on fire the men who had a moment before been firing at what was now being called the "Batmobile".
It was a particularly gruesome scene, as the men were seen in the video burning. In fact, more than anything, it was because of this scene that the video was taken off the website, but by then it was too late, and the video had been copied and was already reappearing periodically at other websites, and being emailed around Gotham City.
From there, again seen against a backdrop of reflected light – and now burning napalm – the dark shape could be seen approaching a yacht. Men on the yacht were shooting at the Batmobile, but as the Batmobile approached the yacht, more and more of the men were dropping their weapons and jumping in the river.
A rocket could be seen being launched from the vehicle, and the rocket hit right in the middle of the yacht. The yacht blew up, and its burning halves could be seen sinking and drifting away from each other. At this point, there was no more shooting visible in the video, and the Batmobile moved past some small building that was still intact, then the Batmobile disappeared. The video ended showing the rapidly sinking yacht, then the burning warehouse, and all the debris strewn about.
In all, it was only several seconds of video, but it was quite graphic.
Though the video had been taken down from the site, the commentary remained, and there were now a couple thousand comments.
As it was by now obvious that these were narcotraffickers whose deal Batman had spoiled, there was broad general support for Batman, especially as it was now apparent the only people who had died were underworld thugs. The commentary was tempered somewhat by concern about vigilantism, and whether such "Cowboy Justice" (as one commentator had called it) would lead to a breakdown of law-and-order, and a general digression into the law of the jungle.
Another commentator, however, fired back, asking whether the law of the jungle would really be "that much worse than what we have right now in Gotham?"
Later on it came out that some women who had been trafficked into Gotham City to work in forced prostitution were at the scene, and that the Batman had made a special effort to protect them, preventing them from being raped and abused on the yacht in the aftermath of the drug deal.
Since this particular plight of women in Gotham City was a concern that Dr. Villanova herself followed, and about which she felt especially strong, that detail tipped the scales for her – and apparently for much of Gotham City – in favor of the Batman and his "Cowboy Justice", and against Gotham's authorities which, despite the heroic efforts of many, were considered impotent due to a combination of corruption and political correctness.
Furthermore, all of this made particular sense to Dr. Villanova, in light of her expertise in studying organized crime, plus the information she had shared in several secret meetings with Batman. Now, she was eager to meet with Bruce and his friend from the DA's office, and see what she could find out, and perhaps even offer some observations of her own to the young lady from the DA.
She looked again at the time – 7:14.
She glanced back to the computer, and looked again at a comment she had noticed a little while ago. One of the commentators had commented, apparently not without sarcasm, that the video was better than a Bigfoot video, to which another commentator answered, only a couple of hours ago:
There was something in that comment that sent a shiver down Dr. Villanova's spine. Getting up to leave for her dinner with Bruce and his friend from the DA's office, she looked one last time at the computer screen. That last comment was left by someone posting as "The Joker".
"What a creep!" she thought, hurrying to the door.
"Good morning, Inspector Gordon," the patrolman greeted him.
"Is it, really? Is it morning? And, is it good?" Gordon looked at him.
Immediately, Gordon regretted his response. He was, in his own way, being friendly and frank to the patrolman, but the patrolman did not know Gordon very well, and had no way of knowing this. Consequently, the patrolman was wondering what the problem was, and whether Gordon was just in a bad mood.
"What do we got?" Gordon asked, looking around.
A warehouse had been destroyed, a yacht had been sunk, there was debris everywhere... on top of that, there were bags of drugs, there were weapons, and there was money. Gotham police had sealed off the area, and firefighters and paramedics were on the scene; the fires had been put out and most of the injured had already been evacuated, over a dozen of them to intensive care wards around Gotham City. Gordon could see nearly a dozen tarps covering people who were dead on the scene.
Seeing Inspector Gordon's gaze pause on the tarps, the patrolman began. "There are several more dead in the warehouse. We haven't been able to really get in there yet."
"Were there any witnesses?"
"Mainly some women. Hookers, scantily clad. They don't speak a lot of English. From what we can make out, they didn't see much. Some kind of a covering had been thrown over them right as all this began."
"Where are they now?" Gordon asked.
"Over there, in the crime scene vans." The officer pointed off beyond the utility shed, and Gordon looked and saw two vans. Inside the vans, he could see some women huddled in blankets.
"Hookers? They were trafficked in for a party. They're not here because they want to be. Has anyone offered them some hot coffee or something?"
"I'm not sure, sir."
"Let's do that. And make sure we get some interpreters down here, pronto!"
"Yes, sir!" With that, the patrolman hurried off toward the crime scene vans, as Inspector Gordon stood and looked around some more, shaking his head.
Dr. Sandra Villanova sat at her desk, staring at her computer, and shook her head.
"What a creep!" she said aloud, even though she was alone in her apartment.
It had now been two full days since the news broke about Batman's latest exploit, an attack that broke up a drug deal and left dozens of people dead. Gotham's media were not giving many details, only emphasizing the violence of what was being portrayed, more than likely correctly, as a vigilante act. The alternative media, however, had more factual reporting and substantial analysis.
Dr. Villanova looked at the clock on her computer – it was almost 7:00. In order to meet Bruce Wayne for dinner, she had to leave by 7:15. It promised to be an interesting evening, as there would be three of them. At first Sandra was hesitant, as the third person was a woman, but then she found out that it was an old friend of Bruce's who worked in the district attorney's office, and not one of the many "lady-friends" Bruce was said by the tabloids to have. Since she was just a friend (which, actually, Sandra herself was, as well), she agreed to meet them, just to get out for a while. Hearing, though, that this friend worked in the DA's office just sweetened the deal, as Sandra was hoping to hear some of the inside story about the investigation into this "Batman", with whom Sandra also was acquainted.
Meanwhile, Sandra still had several minutes to browse the Internet, so she looked again at the page she was on.
Within several hours of the attack on the riverfront, a video appeared on-line. It had been taken with someone's cell phone, and the picture quality was not very good, but the last half of the attack was visible.
As the video began, by the light of the burning warehouse, a dark shape could be seen moving. Strangely, no light reflected off the dark shape, but rather, the dark shape could be seen against the dim light reflecting off objects behind it. The first time she saw the video, Dr. Villanova missed the dark shape completely, until....
A shiver went down her spine. And to think she knew this Batman!
In front of the dark shape, there were some men firing automatic weapons at it. Suddenly, from the dark shape erupted a stream of fire. She found out later on by reading the comments to the video that this was the vehicle's flamethrower. The flamethrower set on fire the men who had a moment before been firing at what was now being called the "Batmobile".
It was a particularly gruesome scene, as the men were seen in the video burning. In fact, more than anything, it was because of this scene that the video was taken off the website, but by then it was too late, and the video had been copied and was already reappearing periodically at other websites, and being emailed around Gotham City.
From there, again seen against a backdrop of reflected light – and now burning napalm – the dark shape could be seen approaching a yacht. Men on the yacht were shooting at the Batmobile, but as the Batmobile approached the yacht, more and more of the men were dropping their weapons and jumping in the river.
A rocket could be seen being launched from the vehicle, and the rocket hit right in the middle of the yacht. The yacht blew up, and its burning halves could be seen sinking and drifting away from each other. At this point, there was no more shooting visible in the video, and the Batmobile moved past some small building that was still intact, then the Batmobile disappeared. The video ended showing the rapidly sinking yacht, then the burning warehouse, and all the debris strewn about.
In all, it was only several seconds of video, but it was quite graphic.
Though the video had been taken down from the site, the commentary remained, and there were now a couple thousand comments.
As it was by now obvious that these were narcotraffickers whose deal Batman had spoiled, there was broad general support for Batman, especially as it was now apparent the only people who had died were underworld thugs. The commentary was tempered somewhat by concern about vigilantism, and whether such "Cowboy Justice" (as one commentator had called it) would lead to a breakdown of law-and-order, and a general digression into the law of the jungle.
Another commentator, however, fired back, asking whether the law of the jungle would really be "that much worse than what we have right now in Gotham?"
Later on it came out that some women who had been trafficked into Gotham City to work in forced prostitution were at the scene, and that the Batman had made a special effort to protect them, preventing them from being raped and abused on the yacht in the aftermath of the drug deal.
Since this particular plight of women in Gotham City was a concern that Dr. Villanova herself followed, and about which she felt especially strong, that detail tipped the scales for her – and apparently for much of Gotham City – in favor of the Batman and his "Cowboy Justice", and against Gotham's authorities which, despite the heroic efforts of many, were considered impotent due to a combination of corruption and political correctness.
Furthermore, all of this made particular sense to Dr. Villanova, in light of her expertise in studying organized crime, plus the information she had shared in several secret meetings with Batman. Now, she was eager to meet with Bruce and his friend from the DA's office, and see what she could find out, and perhaps even offer some observations of her own to the young lady from the DA.
She looked again at the time – 7:14.
She glanced back to the computer, and looked again at a comment she had noticed a little while ago. One of the commentators had commented, apparently not without sarcasm, that the video was better than a Bigfoot video, to which another commentator answered, only a couple of hours ago:
Better than Bigfoot! Yes it is. LOL! I know. I was there! I saw it with my own two eyes. You people of Gotham think those burning goons deserved to die? Well, don't we all? And, you like the Batman, you think he makes quite an impression? Just wait til you get a load of me!
There was something in that comment that sent a shiver down Dr. Villanova's spine. Getting up to leave for her dinner with Bruce and his friend from the DA's office, she looked one last time at the computer screen. That last comment was left by someone posting as "The Joker".
"What a creep!" she thought, hurrying to the door.
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