Zucco's Revenge

Part 3: A Sharpened Knife

Mr. Sharp left the house and drove to another part of Gotham City, this time in one of the most opulent neighborhoods. Despite its manicured lawns and well-kept houses, there was one house that didn't seem to measure up to the rest. On the outside it had that picture perfect look, but on the inside, not everything was rosy.

Mr. Sharp pulled his car into the driveway and walked into the house. Inside was just as immaculate. It made you wonder how a person from Child Protective Services could afford such a place on the kind of salary he was making. It would seem that Mr. Sharp had expensive taste, and yet the vehicle he drove was just as Dick had surmised. It had been a defunct police vehicle, a vehicle that had been stolen from another city, redressed and sold to unsuspecting customers. Mr. Sharp, however, was not unsuspecting with the line of work he would often be hired to do. He knew exactly what he drove and he took full advantage of it. Mr. Sharp was not what he seemed to be.

"You got the goods?" Someone bellowed at him from the dining room, his mouth full of food. "You're living pretty high on the hog. At least this food is better than the stuff they were serving in the State Pen."

"The goods, as you put it, have been delivered. Mr. Wayne fell for the bait."

"Do you think he'll inform Batman?" The not-so-round Tony Zucco sat at the table eating a large Prime Rib smothered in gravy with a side of mashed potatoes and biscuits. He lost much of the weight during his incarceration, and it was as if he was trying to put it all back on in one night.

"Don't know. That paper you had me give him looked pretty genuine."

"All part of my master plan. The more real something looks, the less likely someone will de any snooping," Zucco said.

"When do you plan on bumping off the kid?" Mr. Sharp asked as he sharpened a knife that had been sitting on the counter.

"Not for a week, maybe two. Got to make it look real remember. Better tell Victor not to let any of his special customers near the kid, at least not yet. When the time comes I'll let you know. I have a special place in mind. Some place where they can have their fun and he'll be performing his last act as the only Flying Grayson."

"What's the rest of your plan Zucco?"

"Sorry Sharp, I'm keeping this close to my vest. One part at a time. Just in case, I'll not let Batman get wind of what's going on."

Sharp didn't quibble. He knew Zucco meant business, but at the same time, he didn't want to get on Zucco's bad side. Despite everything, Zucco did manage to pay him well, but how long could he live this way? Someone was bound to get suspicious. And this plan just didn't seem right. What if the kid somehow managed to get word that it was all a setup? No, he did not like it at all.

"Listen carefully," Zucco stated. "In a week's time you're going to check on the kid, just like any social worker. But before that you're going to deliver a letter to Mr. Bruce Wayne, outlining what it is we expect him to do and if he doesn't deliver, we'll produce some pretty damning evidence that will put him behind bars."

"How are you going to do that?" Sharp asked.

"You leave that to me," Zucco said. "It will be the nail in Batman's coffin because, he's going to do the one thing he won't like doing, arresting Bruce Wayne."

Dick was taken to the back of the house. The room he was shown didn't look like any average bedroom. There was no real bed, just a settee and a wide table. There wasn't even a dresser to put his clothes. The walls and ceiling were covered in what looked like a heavy fabric. Dick looked around and found the window. It had iron bars on the outside. There wasn't any way he was going to be able to leave that way. There had to be another way out. There wasn't even a fireplace, just an old fashion gas heater. When Dick tried the door, he discovered it was locked, but who would go to such lengths to make it look like the court changed their minds on Bruce becoming his guardian?

'Looks like its up to me to find out. I need to explore this room further, see if there could be another way out, but I'm not seeing it.'

Dick remembered the lesson that Batman was teaching him, explore all options then decide on what was the best course. Then Dick realized he was missing something, and swallowed hard for his mistake.

'I left my backpack in Mr. Sharp's car. It has my costume and my bat radio transmitter. I just hope Sharp doesn't open it if he finds it.'

Trying not to think about his mistake, Dick explored the walls of his room further, and discovered another door. It led into a bathroom with no windows. It did have an air vent, but it wasn't large enough to crawl through.

'Holy hostage situation. Looks like I'm really in the soup now. I can't contact Batman and I bet they won't even let me talk to Bruce. I'm trapped in a room with bars on the windows . . . Wait, the bars are on the outside. There just may be a chance.'

Dick went to his suitcase and opened it to the inside. There was a zippered pouch inside the lid. The last time he used this suitcase was when he packed a bunch of things when he left the circus. There had to be something in that pouch. He found what he was looking for, a tablet of paper. In his jacket pocket he found a pen. Writing a note on a sheet of paper, he tore another sheet and folded both sheets into an airplane in the shape of a dart. He hoped the two sheets of paper would make the plane heavier so it would fly farther. He went to the window, opened it and taking careful aim. He tossed the plane into the air. It caught the air current just right and sent it sailing across the yard and over the back fence.

He set up another note and airplane and sent that one sailing in another direction, into the side yard of the house next door. On the other side was a commercial building with an alley between. He decided to take his chances and see if he could set the airplane to fly and land as close to the side door as possible. Unfortunately, his plane fell short and it landed smack dab in the middle of the alley. The wind blew the plane further up the alley and away from the street. That was the best he was going to do, short of dropping bread crumbs in the street. The only other thing he could do was tie a flag to the bars to alert anyone else that he was here. For now, he would have to wait. And hoped that someone found one of his messages and call for help. He had this very distinct feeling that no matter what he did, Batman may be too late.

Part 4: Deceit Uncovered