After a much-needed evening nap, Robin told his partner about what he found at GSU. Knipping and Crews using the exact same language to describe Nate Donovan's behavior was only the beginning of mounting evidence of a conspiracy at the university. Knipping and Crews shared remarkably similar personal histories as well. Both had come from high income families, floundered in their first years at college, changed majors multiple times, and been cited for student misconduct. Then, at the beginning of the previous school year, both had apparently reformed. There was little in either file after that except transcripts of near straight As.
As best he could put together, Robin figured the three of them had met in a political science course during Nate's sophomore year and remained close after that, at least enough for Knipping and Crews to interviewed following Nate's death. Robin remembered Nate's financial problems and ran the account histories of all three students. Sure enough, right about the time Nate had been stressed about money, Knipping and Crews each withdrew over five thousand dollars from their personal accounts. Large withdrawals continued off and on for the two of them, while Nate also made smaller withdrawals.
He and Batman discussed the possibility of blackmail and whether Nate had been making a payoff the night of his disappearance. Or maybe he had finally said "No" and the blackmailer retaliated. Whatever it was, clearly Knipping and Crews were also involved. There was also the possibility that they were with Nate that night. Maybe they were keeping silent in fear, or covering everything up to protect the memory of their friend. Maybe not.
The computer's alert sounded, letting Batman and Robin know that a flagged item had come up. Batman cleared the red screen and saw that Banks, their arms dealer, had made a move.
"He's making a transfer tonight."
Robin was also looking at the screen but didn't see what his partner saw. "It's just a text saying to get tickets to the 'Frozen Roses' show."
"The text is from Jacob Zsigray, one of Banks' employees at a dummy corporation, to Evelyn Porter. There is no Evelyn Porter and Zsigray is not the type to attend Celtic music concerts in coffee shops. Any time they want to make a deal they find out when a show is opening in the city and use that as a time and date marker."
Robin nodded. "Where?"
"Evelyn decides. She, or whoever it is, will reply with a location coded to the the 1998 Gotham City phone book."
Robin only raised his eyebrows, not sure whether to comment on the time and effort it must have taken Batman to figure that out. Less than five minutes later, the text reply from 'Evelyn' appeared on the screen. Batman read the numbers in the message and opened up a digital archive of the phone book, finding the page, row, and line of the address for the deal.
"It's in Port Adams."
The two crime fighters took a minute to stock up from the Cave's armory before heading to the docks. The Frozen Roses were due on stage in less than an hour.
#
"Ready when you are, partner." Batman hadn't asked, but Robin said it anyway. He believed one of his responsibilities in the partnership was to make it appear as if Batman wasn't a complete sociopath.
Batman made one last visual sweep of the area before setting his eyes on the five scumbags below. Two worked for Banks. Three worked for Banks' newest buyer. One of these men's faces had a personal history with Batman's fist: Marvin Pearson. Batman caught up with him four years before, after he left his fingerprints all over money found at an illegal gambling house. Batman would have gone easy on him if he hadn't tried to set the building on fire during his exit. Apparently, he had moved from number running to smuggling guns.
"You know any of these guys?" Robin asked in a low voice.
"Just one, and he's the one we're after tonight. He'll have answers." He pointed out Pearson and gave a highlights version of their personal history together.
"He's not the king pin?"
"Just another flunky, but a smart one."
"How do you want to run it?"
"Divide and conquer. I'll start things off."
"Roger that."
The thugs below were moving cargo from the back of a box truck into two black SUVs. They were unaware of the two figures moving silently among the rooftops, one heading for the warehouse and the other making a wide circle around to the harbor. Pearson leaned against a stack of rotten wooden pallets, watching the grunts work and separating himself from the main group. Robin shook his head at the unprofessionalism. This was going to be easier than he thought.
A flicker of movement caught the corner of his eye and Robin eased himself deeper into the shadows. He wasn't the only one doing a flanking maneuver. Six more figures were on the ground, watching the transfer from hiding and carrying heavy weapons. Robin switched to night vision and swept his gaze across the docks, quickly spotting another lone figure on the rooftops, about 60 yards away. He looked back down to the hidden gunmen. Judging by the way they were holding their weapons, things were about to heat up real soon.
"Change of plans. We've got at least seven party crashers over here, six of them armed."
Batman's voice returned over the open comlink. "Hold your —."
The rest of his words were drowned out by gunfire.
Robin leapt down behind two of the gunmen and quickly dispatched them with bolas, all the while trying to keep an eye on Pearson and the seventh figure. One of Banks' men was already down and everyone else was starting to return confused fire at the shooters and each other. Robin heard a familiar clinking noise and watched as the truck, SUVs, and gun smugglers were buried within a thick smoke. The gunfire paused and Robin took out another shooter with a sharp roundhouse kick to the head. The gunmen weren't wearing uniforms, but their clothing and weapons were starting to look familiar.
He heard the softest scrape of fabric near him and new Batman had arrived.
"Get to Pearson."
Robin leapt onto some crates and quickly spotted his assigned target, who was frantically digging through the bloody pockets of his fallen man. Robin also saw that Pearson's other goon was blindly firing into the smoke. Robin somersaulted high over the man and came up behind him. He easily kicked the gun out of his hands and heard it spin across the docks. Before the man could react, Robin's knee was in his solar plexus. The dealer fell to the ground in a huff.
Pearson made a run for the driver's side of the first SUV. Robin caught up with him, grabbed his collar, spun him around, and slammed him back into the side of the vehicle.
"Going somewhere?"
Pearson's eyes flickered back and forth, from Robin to the darkness where other enemies were waiting with automatic weapons. The smoke was clearing fast and the shooting might start at any moment.
His face didn't show it, but Robin was surprised to still hear the crashes of a fight going on. Batman must be having a little trouble with the other four party crashers.
Robin twisted his fists into Pearson's collar and lifted him several inches off the ground. "Who do you work for? I want names, dirtbag, or we might leave you to try your luck at the OK Corral here." He looked Pearson up and down. "For a gun runner, you don't seem to be ready for a gunfight." With his toes just scraping the ground, his collar scrunched up under his flabby chin, and the forgotten keys jingling in one outstretched hand, Pearson appeared befuddled. Robin was about to get his attention, in a more direct way, when he felt cold metal at the back of his neck.
"Don't you know it's rude to ignore a question? I'd advise you to answer the young man." Robin recognized the smug menace in the voice behind him and immediately knew who the seventh figure was. He also knew that, though the gun was on him, the Penguin was speaking to Pearson.
Pearson's eyes fixed on the Penguin. His face turned a mottled red and his breath started to come out in rasps. Not wanting him to faint dead away, Robin slowly lowered him to the ground while keeping a firm grip on his shirt front. Pearson swallowed a few times and then struggled to get out a few words.
"I just do the deals," he said. He wasn't a big man but he was out of shape and sweat poured freely down his face and stung his eyes. "I get the phone messages about where to pick things up, where to make the transfer, and that's it."
"I don't give a farthing about you, Mr. Pearson. Who is your employer?" Penguin's words were polite but his tone was threatening.
By now, Pearson had recovered some of his dignity. "I'm not stupid enough to tell, and in any case I don't know much."
Robin never felt the gun move from his neck as the Penguin skewered Pearson's hand to the side of the SUV with the long blade at the end of his walking stick. Even so, Robin assumed the Penguin was a little distracted. In one fluid movement, Robin let go of Pearson, dropped into a crouch, came up behind the Penguin's arm, latched on, and twisted the heavy-set crime boss face-first to the ground.
"That's no way to play, Penguin."
"Then you won't like this either," said a new voice. Robin looked up just in time to side-step the incoming fist of Pearson's remaining goon. Apparently he had recovered his breath and was not very happy. Penguin took the opportunity to flip onto his back and reach for his gun. Robin stepped on this, and quite a few bones in Penguin's hand, while avoiding a second punch from the goon and landing one of his own on the man's jaw.
The one thing he did not do was keep an eye on Pearson. There was a rumble and burst of smoke from behind him as the first SUV pealed away.
"You thoughtless brat! We could have both got what we wanted."
A figure emerged from the shadows, picked up the Penguin, and carelessly threw him back into a pile of crates.
"Since when do we care what you want?" Batman asked.
"Cretin." Penguin struggled to extract himself from the wooden pile. "Clearly you are just as curious about this new personage in our fair city's underworld. We could have made great inroads tonight as to the identity of this mystery figure, and made much progress in crushing him, if your whelp hadn't balked at the first sign of blood."
"Hey, fatty, I was doing fine until you jumped in."
"Robin." Batman's tone held a warning. "Call the police and let them know what to find here."
"Yes, let the adults talk," the Penguin added with a sneer.
Robin stalked off to check on the bad guys strewn about the docks in varying levels of pain and consciousness.
Batman loomed over the Penguin among the broken crates. "You want to share, share."
"A little tit-for-tat, then? That miscreant's name was Marvin Pearson. I believe I may have even hired him to do some creative accounting for me at one time. I was rather surprised to see him here tonight. This isn't his cup of tea, as they say."
"What isn't?"
"Why, selling guns. He's quite out of his element. Your turn." More than most, the Penguin understood that one of Batman's biggest weaknesses was a high regard for fair play.
"Pearson is connected to a large organization that's well funded, carefully controlled, and sophisticated."
The Penguin grunted. "Sounds familiar. But whoever is running it has no sense for drama. I don't know what annoys me more — that most of my business associates are leaving me for this spring chicken or that I have to keep referring to him, or let's honor the ladies — her, with amorphous vocabulary. It dulls conversation."
"Tonight it was guns. What else is moving?"
"I'll give you a list if you let me walk away from this tonight."
"People are dead. You're going to jail."
"If complete strangers decide to kill one another by the docks, who am I to stop them? But since the police are prejudiced against me and will likely assume that I had a part in this, perhaps you can agree to be lenient when an opportunity arises in the future."
Batman's only response was silence. The Penguin took that as the best he could expect.
"Medical supplies, ammunition, computer components, electronic navigational systems, explosives, and optic cable to start. Rumor among my men is that even a truck full of toilet paper went missing. Almost the only things not moving are drugs and liquor."
"You must be heartbroken."
The Penguin smiled. "They're a very loyal customer base. They'll be back." They heard sirens in the distance. "I'm sure I could have more information for you in the future, provided I stay at the apex of my empire. Care to reconsider that leniency?"
"I'll send you a Christmas card in jail."
"Ah, yes. I always knew you had a sense of humor beneath that grim visage. So do I."
The second SUV exploded, knocking Batman to his knees in a hail of fire, broken glass, and smoldering pieces of metal. When the heat blast passed and he lowered his cape, the Penguin was gone.
Robin appeared an instant later and sighed in relief at finding his partner in one piece.
"Did you get it on Pearson?" Batman asked as he brushed embers off of his cape.
"Right under his collar. Unless he ditches the coat, we should be in business. Problems back there earlier?"
"Penguin dropped a shipping container on me."
"Yeah, he's a real class act."
