Title: Criminal Acts (3/18)
Author: StargazerNataku
Rating: G
Genre: Drama
Characters: Detective Gerry Stephens, Renee Montoya, Jim Gordon, Batman
Summary: Even after twenty years in the Gotham City police department and there were some cases that never got easier.
Warnings: None
Jim Gordon watched as the immaculately dressed waiter, complete with pristine white gloves, set the steak down before him on a thin china plate, adorned with dainty garnishes and not containing nearly as much food as a hard-working man would want. He waited as another did the same with the mayor's lunch, and privately decided that if he never had to have one of these fancy lunches again he would be a far happier man. The food was always excellent, but he could not wholly approve of lunches at Gotham's best restaurants on someone else's dime, feeling that such were a waste of taxpayer dollars. He was used to them now, had actually learned some French vocabulary, at least as much as it took to get his steak as he liked it, and actually enjoys the food for what it is. It was especially nice when he considered that when he took the Commissioner's job everyone was predicting he would not live long enough to become used to the job or experience its perks.
Gordon accepted a refill on his cup of coffee, then cut off a piece of his steak and took a bite, his attention split between the tender morsel and the mayor, who renewed their conversation after a bite of his own meal. "I am glad we had this chance to work everything out," Garcia told him. "I will see what I can do about reallocating some funds towards these new bulletproof vests, but I'm just not sure it'll be in the budget this year, at least for the majority of the department. We may be able to purchase some, of course. I can try to work it out."
"Thank you," Gordon responded outwardly, while inwardly he cursed the beancounters who put the budget over his peoples' lives. He knew full well the Mayor would barely try to get it into the budget; it would wait for another year while his people faced Gotham's dangerous streets without enough funding or equipment.
"The new equipment for the crime lab will have to wait, unfortunately," Garcia continued, his words coming as no surprise to Gordon. "But your partnership with the labs over at Wayne Enterprises for anything we can't manage is working out all right, yes?"
"In a manner of speaking," Gordon answered.
"What is the problem? Mr. Fox made it sound like a match made in heaven when I spoke to him."
Gordon doubted that Lucius Fox, who he had met a few times offhand, had really done so, but he ignored the mayor's exaggeration and replied. "It would be faster if we did not have to go through outside sources, and the D.A. thinks it may allow a future defendant to challenge whether evidence is admissible."
"I see," Garcia said. "Well, I'm afraid the city just doesn't have the money for it this year, Gordon. Perhaps…"
"Perhaps someone will come along and make it happen?" asked a lazy drawl from behind where Gordon was standing. The mayor was on his feet in an instant, and Gordon rose as well, taking his cue as Mayor Garcia stepped around the table and extended his hand. He turned, his gaze falling on the young man in a spotless suit, his hair fashionably slicked back, his hands manicured without a cuticle out of place.
"Mr. Wayne, always a pleasure," the Mayor said as the two men shook hands. "You know Commissioner Gordon, I think?"
"Commissioner," Wayne said with a broad, empty smile, shaking Jim's hand.
"Mr. Wayne," Jim answered.
"Now what is this you were saying?" Bruce Wayne asked, turning back to the Mayor.
"We were discussing the police department's part of the city budget, Mr. Wayne," Garcia answered. "And the police department's relationship with Wayne Enterprises."
"Yes, I think I heard a little about that," Wayne said, pulling a chair over from the next table and dropping into it. The Mayor sat, almost on the edge of his seat, and Gordon did the same. "Is the affiliation not to your liking, Commissioner?"
Jim bristled a little, but forced himself to speak calmly, knowing Garcia was hanging onto and judging his every word. Christ, he hated playing politics. "Not at all, Mr. Wayne. I'm thankful for the opportunity."
"Then what is the problem?" Wayne asked lazily, leaning back in his chair as though he was sitting poolside in Tahiti instead of in one of Gotham City's most prestigious restaurants.
"Jim was merely informing me that it would be faster if the police department were able to do their own work, instead of having to contract it out," Garcia explained. "And that the evidence would be more airtight at trial."
"Well that's important isn't it?" Wayne asked in the tone of a man looking for a necessary clarification.
"Very important, Mr. Wayne," Garcia answered patiently.
"Well then, let's see what we can do about it." He withdrew a cell phone from his pocket and pressed a series of buttons. Garcia gave Gordon a vaguely triumphant, vaguely disbelieving glance, then set his mind to eating as though he was completely uninterested in the phone conversation just starting beside him. Gordon went back to his steak as well, inwardly shaking his head, though he knew he would not complain about the source if the department got what it needed.
"Lucius!" Wayne was saying. "Well, I am very well, and you…yes of course. Say, I'm sitting here with the Mayor and Commissioner Gordon, and they had a fabulous idea…well indirectly…They said it would be faster if the police could do it themselves…it would? Indeed…" There was a long pause then, Fox's voice barely audible, but Jim imagined the man sitting at his desk and patiently explaining something to his simple-minded boss. "Well, that sounds great. Why don't you get in contact with the commissioner and we can get them what they need? Of course. All right, Lucius, I'll do that. You too." He hung up, and turned to Gordon with a beaming smile. "Finished," he said. "You just tell Lucius what you need and we'll see what we can do."
"Mr. Wayne…" the Commissioner said, and Wayne waved his hand to dismiss the commissioner's protests at the same time Garcia was giving him a look that could kill from across the table.
"Now now, won't hear of it. Lucius said it'll be good for us too. Something about taxes and sales to other police departments…too technical for me, for sure, but that's why he's in charge. So I don't have to be." Wayne grinned. "Better things to do with life, aren't there, commissioner?"
"Yes, indeed, Mr. Wayne," Gordon agreed. "You have my thanks."
"Nonsense, nonsense. It's you that should be thanked, Commissioner." He gave an easy, playboy grin. "You do more with yourself than I ever well, right?" He winked. "But we can't all be crusaders for justice. Some of us have to be the lilies of the field, as Alfred always says." Wayne rose and turned to Garcia with another grin. "Mayor, I'll see you on Friday, right? This one's your fundraiser, yes?"
"Yes it is, Mr. Wayne. And thank you." Wayne turned to Gordon who also stood.
"Commissioner, I will see you soon. You coming on Friday?"
"No, Mr. Wayne, I am not."
"A pity. Well, I know for a fact Alfred's got your card for my benefit in a few weeks. You will make it, won't you?"
"If it's in my power, Mr. Wayne."
"Excellent!" Wayne shook his hand, then turned to the waiter who had come up to the table. "This lunch's on me, Laurent."
"Of course, Mr. Wayne," the waiter answered despite the mayor's protests.
"Nonsense," Wayne said. "My restaurant, my rules." He smiled. "I'd best go, Jennifer seems to be getting impatient, and we all know what a pain impatient women are." He motioned to a leggy, rather buxom blonde sitting at a table in a private corner. "Excuse me, gentlemen," he said, and walked away towards her.
"Well," Garcia commented. "That solved the problem."
"Yes, I suppose so," Gordon responded, and they ate in silence for a moment, their minds elsewhere. Watching Wayne sit next to the woman in the corner, he gave a slight frown, his detective's mind clicking into gear as he pondered what had just happened. Bruce Wayne was a notorious playboy and, if Gordon did not mind being uncharitable, had the reputation of being somewhat of an airhead. There were those who said the only reason he'd lived this long was a combination of dumb luck and his butler, who managed the man's life to each minute detail.
Gordon had a hard time believing anyone was that stupid, particularly when they invited themselves into conversations and proceeded to promise hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of necessary equipment to a police force in need of it. But then again, he supposed everyone got lucky every now and again.
"There was something else I wanted to mention," Garcia commented non-chalantly, interrupting Gordon's train of thought. The commissioner again focused on the mayor. "I've been hearing rumors, and I need to make sure there's no truth behind them."
"About?" Gordon asked.
"There are those," Garcia said. "That don't think the Gotham Police Department is trying very hard to find that masked vigilante."
"You mean the Batman."
"Yes, Gordon. The Batman."
"Policy is, and always has been, to arrest him on sight."
"Yes, Gordon, I know. But we've both been in Gotham long enough to know that sometimes official policy means jack shit. I don't know the truth of what's going on. I don't want to. But I've made promises to the people of this city that we're going to get him off the streets, and I meant them. And the longer I go without delivering, the worse it gets for me. I want to see some progress on this, or there will have to be consequences. And neither of us want that. Is that clear?"
"As crystal," Gordon responded.
"Good." The mayor took the last bite of his pasta. "I don't want it to end that way, commissioner. You've been good for this city, and I want you in your job. But I also need results."
"Of course," Jim agreed, promising himself that the mayor would not get them. "I'll turn up the heat as best I can."
"Thank you," Garcia said, as both men rose. "I should get back to City Hall." He extended his hand and shook Gordon's. "Thanks for taking the time to meet with me today. I'll do what I can with this." He motioned with the papers in his hand. "And you can talk to Fox for the rest, apparently."
"Thank you," Gordon said, following the mayor out the door to where the valet had already pulled up his car. He tipped the man, trying to ignore the headache forming behind his temples that political meetings always seemed to cause for him. Getting into the car, he sighed, then pulled into traffic, heading back to the MCU to face the stack of paperwork waiting for him.