Chapter Six
She had been in the office all night and it was back to regular office hours when Amanda found what she was looking for. At first, she was afraid it might be the result of too much coffee and too little rest. She checked again. And again. Then look a ten minute stroll and checked again.
There it was. A tiny notion in the wages that told her that Jackson Geary was getting paid twice during the same period. Considering that her sniper hadn't even done the job she had asked him to do, she found it highly insulting that he was taking other jobs.
Now that she knew what to look for, she looked back at some other departments. Sure enough, Wakefield was getting paid twice as well. There were a couple of others.
And someone was funneling funds into the department so that they could double pay these people.
She pounded her desk.
I am going to kill them all.
But first, she needed to make sure she knew who was included in "them."
Or, she considered, maybe not.
She picked up the phone.
"Batman to Superman."
In a move perfected by years of practice, Clark Kent picked up his silent cell phone, flipped it open and activated his Justice League communicator as he moved the phone to his ear.
"Clark Kent," he said putting as much emphasis into the name as he could.
"The Wakefields have spent their last night in the Watchtower," Batman's voice growled.
"I'm not sure they would be comfortable with that," Clark replied. He was sitting at his desk at The Daily Planet where he had been going through the proofs from the photos associated with his story. He liked offering his opinion to the photo desk. He knew full well that the photo editor didn't appreciate his input, but that didn't stop him from offering it.
"I am sure that I don't care," Batman replied. "They don't know anything useful."
"And they are so much more useful as bait," Clark replied sarcastically.
Batman made a noise that was too dark to be a chuckle but too amused to be a growl. "Do you actually believe that I would….actually, I am not going to ask that."
"Probably for the best," Clark replied. He heard a shuffle and realized that Lois Lane was pretending not to listen in on the call but was trying to lean closer to hear better. "Hold on, I need to get somewhere I can hear you better."
"Give Lois a little wave from me," Batman replied, a snarl that time.
"It is regular working hours," Clark pointed out as he walked towards the elevator. The doors opened with a ping as he got the elevator bay.
"You aren't going to pretend you get reception on the elevator, are you? Just call me back when you get somewhere where you can talk," Batman said and disconnected.
"I actually do get reception in the elevator," Clark muttered as he snapped the phone closed.
He took his time getting off of the elevator and into the street. He usually just walked around the block. Most people were on phones of their own so no one would listen too closely to him.
But there was a limit. He knew he couldn't just call for Batman. He certainly wasn't introducing himself as Superman. Batman wouldn't answer if he asked for Bruce. The solution came to him. With a smile, he activated his communicator and put his cell phone back at his ear.
"Bats?"
There was a pause which Clark knew was Batman glaring at him.
"Out on the street doesn't count as private," came the reply.
"You called me," Clark replied, trying not to let the frustration get to him.
"Yes and now I'm regretting it."
"You don't have time for this," Clark said. "So, just tell me what you want."
"First, I have the Wakefields set up where they will be safe. Second, the bomb. It was expensive. So expensive that I can't believe how easy it was to find. Third, I found the sniper and I am going to see what he knows…." His voice trailed off.
The reporter smiled. Batman would do anything to protect his friends without having a single doubt. It was the saying that always caused him trouble. Clark was tempted to just let the Dark Knight struggle but thought the better of it.
"So, you are going to shake the tree and I'd better watch out in case something bright and green falls out," Clark said.
"Something like that. I'll have more on this later, but it doesn't make sense yet."
"Expensive and odd? Are you thinking Luther?"
"Not yet. And neither should you. Not until we know more."
"Okay," Clark said, letting the doubt seep into his voice. "Anything else?"
"Not now."
"Happy hunting then," Clark said and deactivated the communicator.
Diana pushed down the twinge of guilt as she flew the last several miles to her destination. Unless it was an emergency, she didn't like transporting into a neighborhood. It caused unnecessary attention. So, she hadn't. She had been dropped just below the air traffic lanes about five miles away. The Watchtower staff didn't like transporting her into open space, but they had learned to do it anyway.
Before the incident at the Wakefield residence and the bombing of the Batmobile, she had meant to travel to this house. Ken Regan had failed to come to work at Cadmus the same day that Steve Wakefield had so she suspected that he also had been roped into the museum job.
The burnt smell grabbed her attention first. It was stale. But it hovered in the air suggested that whatever had burned, it had been large.
It was almost the smell in the air after the Wakefield's condo had been destroyed. But this smell was somehow larger.
She closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them, she looked for the site. It was easy to see. It was the charred remains of a house. She delayed acknowledging the truth until after she landed and knew that Ken Regan's house had burned down.
The fire was long since extinguished. The crime scene tape was wrapped around what little was left. At some points, they had put stakes into the ground to tie the tape to.
She had walked the perimeter twice before she heard the footsteps of someone approaching. Diana looked up and saw a middle-aged man striding towards her. His eyes widened when he recognized her and he stopped walking.
"Can I help you?' he asked, the authority of his walking had not made it to his voice.
"I was looking for Ken Regan," Diana replied. "Where is he?"
"He died in the fire," the man replied. "Poor guy. I heard the explosion. It was late. The firemen, they, well, they found him in his bed."
"Thank you," she said. She wasn't sure what her expression was, but the man quickly turned and walked back to his house.
Cadmus, she thought and felt the anger rise.
She let it take over and took to the air.
The rules of Man's World could go to Hades.
Jackson Geary had just received a call about a job and it was three hours until dawn. What was it with Cadmus? Geary wondered casually if others were getting calls in the wee hours of the morning too or if he was the only lucky one. Certainly they couldn't all call with such stupid ideas as the one he had just gotten. It should have been a joke. Kill Batman, the caller had said as if it was that easy.
Geary had, at any opening, suggested that if they wanted to take out a member of the Justice League, one kryptonite bullet in Superman's heart and another through his head would do the trick. Sure, making the bullets would be hard, maybe impossible, he had no idea, but that was the way to do it.
But no. Apparently, Superman was too popular with the general public for that. The backlash would be counterproductive.
Geary would then suggest taking out several of the non-members. Pick off Black Canary, Green Arrow, Vixen and a few others and start a panic with the League. That also would be easy. Relatively, anyway.
But nope, they wanted a Founder. So, killing the only non-meta Founder of the Justice League was their solution. To them, the fact that he was the only non-meta meant it would be easier. It was laughable. Geary knew that because the Dark Knight was the only non-meta it would be near impossible. What must he be in order to hang out with Superman, Wonder Woman and the rest of them as an equal?
The good news was that if he did manage to kill Batman, Geary would be able to pick and choose his jobs, which meant he would not have to work for idiots; even idiots who paid well, quickly and often in advance.
Geary had not been able to sleep since the call came. He had gone to the dining room table in his small studio apartment and pulled out the research he had done on Batman. It had taken time, but he had managed to find the spots in Gotham that Batman seemed to visit every night. There was no pattern to what time Batman would do his drive through of the area. The problem, as Geary had learned from experience, was the Dark Knight knew those areas so well that setting up a trap was nearly impossible.
Geary sighed, flipping through the notes on locations and the photographs he had. Nothing was inspiring him at the moment. He sighed again and looked at his watch. He either needed to lie down or just make coffee and admit he wasn't getting any rest.
Coffee won out. He stood and walked to the kitchen. He had poured the water into the machine and was about to grind the beans when he heard a quiet whooshing behind him. He spun around and saw Batman standing silently on the other side of the kitchen counter.
Geary felt his mind go blank in terror. He grabbed at the nearby knives but even as he did it, he knew it was sloppy. In an unseen motion, the Dark Knight grabbed Geary's wrists and pulled him away from the kitchen and back towards the living room.
Batman pushed Geary into an easy chair and stood over him, Batman's hands blocking Geary's escape. Geary struggled for several minutes before he heard the hiss of gas escaping and watched as Batman put a gas mask over his face.
When Geary regained consciousness, he was tied to a wooden chair in the dining area of his apartment. Geary struggled with the ropes as Batman waited, sitting quietly in a chair across from him. When Geary gave up, Batman leaned forward towards him. Just a few inches.
"Let's talk," the Dark Knight said menacingly.
