Acknowledgement: Yet another heartfelt thanks to Beth, Anna, and Char for having beta-reading this chapter. It went through several rewrites, and I'm afraid that I really maxed out their generosity.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to DC and Time/Warner; this is an original story that doesn't intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome.
Copyright January 2005
Wish Upon a Star
By Syl Francis
Chapter Ten
The morning dawned with the French countryside estate empty of all of Ra's al Ghul's men, except for his personal bodyguards and a small contingent of servants. When Bruce questioned Al Ghul about it, the older man merely shrugged and waved the matter off as of no consequence.
"I have sent them on ahead, Bruce. We have long been gone from our desert oasis, and I am afraid that my loyal followers grow restless for their wives and families."
"But what kind of transportation do they have?" Bruce asked. "I mean, I still don't know how you got here. Para-glider? Stealth bomber? Warp drive?"
Al Ghul laughed in hearty appreciation. "You have a marvelous imagination, Bruce. Talia's life with you will no doubt be a long, fruitful one filled with the sounds of laughter." Shaking his head as if still amused, Al Ghul made his way to the veranda.
Bruce knew that his question had been expertly sidestepped, and he followed Al Ghul determined to question him further. Talia's presence at the breakfast table forestalled any further questions.
"Good morning, Father." Talia coolly held her cheek out for a fatherly kiss. However, when her eyes fell on Bruce, her entire demeanor lit up like a beacon on a storm-tossed sea. "Beloved! I was beginning to think that you were going to sleep the day away."
"I'm sorry, darling," Bruce said, bending down and giving her a good morning kiss. "I guess I overslept."
"That is quite all right, Beloved," Talia said, caressing his cheek. "I was up at first light, trying my hand at capturing that enchanting view on canvas." She waved at the panoramic view from the veranda.
"Excellent!" Bruce smiled in approval, glancing over where she had set up her paints and easel. Seeing that the unfinished painting was facing away from the table, he made a move to get up, but Talia laid a staying hand on his arm.
"No, Beloved, not yet. I have it deliberately turned in that direction in order to keep it from being seen by prying eyes."
"Prying eyes?" Bruce protested. "You don't mean me?"
"Especially you!" Talia said with a short laugh. Then turning serious, she entreated quietly. "Please, indulge me for the moment. I wish to surprise you when I finish it. Promise me that you won't look?"
Seeing that this was important to her, Bruce readily agreed. "I promise." Talia lightly squeezed his hand in gratitude.
"Bruce, I see that Talia has already worked her magic on you." At Bruce's inquiring look, Al Ghul added easily, "I have never been able to deny my daughter anything either." Giving Talia an indulgent smile, he said, "Ever since the day she was born, I am afraid that my Talia has had me wound tightly round her little finger."
Cheeks flushed at her father's teasing, Talia dropped her eyes. It was Bruce's turn to gently squeeze her hand.
Oblivious to his daughter's embarrassment, Al Ghul turned and called for service. "Abdul-Jalil!"
Instantly, the same fawning servant whom Alfred found so repugnant materialized at Al Ghul's side. Watching him, Bruce mentally rolled his eyes. Talia had informed him that Abdul-Jalil's name meant 'Servant of the Great, Revered One,' and as evidenced by his hovering at his master's side, anticipating his every need, it was obvious that the toady little man took the meaning of his name to heart. Bruce gave a slight, mental shake of the head and looked away.
Alfred stepped out onto the veranda carrying a tray with fresh fruit and different assortments of baked goods. Bruce saw that Alfred's demeanor was as impeccable as ever; however, he also caught the tiniest clenching of the staid butler's jaw when Jalil handed his master the salt and pepper shakers accompanied with several deep bows in rapid succession. Amused, Bruce carefully kept his eyes focused on a point elsewhere on the horizon.
Once he had eaten his fill, Al Ghul pushed his chair back and stood. Taking in a deep breath, he exhaled in appreciation and walked towards the railing that ran along the edge of the veranda.
"Ah, Bruce! The air here is as pure and crisp as it must have been at the dawn of creation! One can clearly see to the edge of the horizon from here. There is no haze or industrial pollutants to obscure your magnificent view." He took a long appreciative look at the green fields before him. "It is obvious that you do not suffer from the usual filth and poisons that many, so-called civilized nations spew out into the atmosphere. How lucky you are to have your home in such a place."
"I'm glad you like it," Bruce said. "But it's only rented for the summer. Gotham City is my real home, and at the earliest opportunity, Talia and I will return there."
Al Ghul narrowed his eyes. "Gotham City?" he murmured. "A dark and dismal place if I remember correctly."
Bruce shrugged. "Some see it that way, I suppose..." Bruce paused, considering Gotham's many blighted neighborhoods, its high crime rate, and failing infrastructure. "But me...?" He spoke so softly, he was barely audible. "I call her home." At his words, Talia gazed thoughtfully at him, while Al Ghul glared sharply.
"What did you say?" Al Ghul demanded.
"Excuse me?" Bruce looked at Al Ghul as if he had forgotten that his father-in-law was there.
"I asked you what you had said." Al Ghul's dark gaze burned into Bruce as if willing him to confess to his words.
"I said that Gotham City is my home."
"A rather harsh mistress, I would wager," Al Ghul offered thoughtfully. Bruce gave him a quizzical look, and then shrugged as if he believed the topic were unimportant.
"No more so, I'm sure, than your desert hideaway, sir."
Al Ghul nodded. "Perhaps you are correct, my son." Abruptly clapping his hands, he called sharply to his servant. "Jalil! Come! The time to leave draws near! See to it that we do not miss our deadline."
"Yes, Master!" Jalil said, backing away from Al Ghul.
Turning to Talia and Bruce, Al Ghul opened his arms wide in an expansive gesture. "My children, we leave in one hour."
Exactly one hour later, Bruce and Talia waited in the downstairs study. Next to a comfortable leather sofa sat two medium-sized suitcases. Not much to be taken on an extended visit, Bruce said when Alfred had brought them down...
"Your luggage, Master Bruce, is packed per Miss Talia's instructions. She informed me that you and she would be provided with all you'd need upon your arrival at" Alfred paused, gave a slight sniff, and then continued somewhat distastefully. "Demon's Head."
"Oh." Bruce shrugged. He had never been much interested in clothes anyway. They were usually a hindrance to his chosen clandestine activities and rarely lasted long...
Now the only thing that held his interest was at last finding out how Al Ghul and his men had arrived there. Bruce had wracked his brains trying to recall the sound of an engine approaching the estate. For that matter, he couldn't recall any tire tracks either leading towards or away from the house.
Bruce shook his head. They hadn't just materialized out of thin air, he knew. So how? His private musings were interrupted by the appearance of Ra's al Ghul. Bruce looked at his watch. Five minutes before they were scheduled to depart.
"My children," Al Ghul addressed them. "It is time!"
Nodding, Bruce made a move to pick up the luggage, but Jalil beat him to it. "Your pardon, Young Master Wayne," Jalil said. "I shall see that these are loaded onto"
"That will be enough," Al Ghul said sharply, dismissing the servant. "See to the luggage." Bowing excessively, the little man backed out of the study with a suitcase in each hand. Once the servant was gone, Al Ghul gestured towards the main entrance and said simply, "Let us go."
Al Ghul led the way outside, his long, elegant robes flowing in the morning breeze. He crossed the well-manicured lawn with confident strides, stopping midway to the main gate. "Well, here we are!" he announced.
Bruce raised a single eyebrow. "Excuse me?" He looked around, but didn't notice anything unusual. "I don't see?"
"Oh, Father, please!" Talia said exasperatedly. "Stop playing games and have Grind de-cloak The Demon." Al Ghul gave his daughter an amused glance.
"You have lost your sense of humor, my daughter." He paused. "Just like your mother when she was carrying you." At Talia's answering glare, Al Ghul quickly spoke into his collar. A hidden microphone, Bruce realized.
"Capt. Grind...de-cloak," Al Ghul ordered. "Now."
At that moment, the very air before them began to shimmer, much like a mirage in the desert. The next instant what had been an expansive, but empty well-kept lawn was suddenly filled to capacity with a gigantic craft of some kind, its design totally new to Bruce.
"Behold! The Demon!" Al Ghul called. Simultaneously, a massive door on the side opened, forming a ramp. "Come, my children! We mustn't keep Capt. Grind and his crew waiting." He checked his watch. "Right on schedule!"
Bruce said little during the flight to Al Ghul's headquarters. He spent as much time as possible in the control room, studying the new and unfamiliar instruments. Bruce was an accomplished pilot in his own rightjust one more little skill he had picked up in his travelsbut this aircraft was unlike any that he had ever seen.
Their airspeed, Bruce noted, was faster than any civilian or military transport currently on the market. In addition, they were at a cruising altitude well over the maximum altitude of a 747 or anything else Bruce was familiar with.
Anything, that is, except a spacecraft. To his admiration, the craft had been skillfully piloted to their cruising altitudesub-orbital apogee. Bruce would have loved to get his hands on the controls, but settled for remaining in the control room. This way, at least, he might still experience, if only vicariously, the sensation of flying it.
While Bruce was enjoying himself much like a young schoolboy, Talia on the other hand, had complained of a headache and excused herself to the passenger cabin. In the back of his mind, Bruce was beginning to feel concerned. Ever since her father had unexpectedly arrived at the estate, Talia's whole demeanor had changed, becoming more forceful, more commandingmore vulnerable, almost as if she were afraid of her own father.
Should she be, he wondered. He considered the millions that the aircraft must have cost her father, not just to purchase but to build. What kind of assets did the man command? What essential skills, other than his private army, did he employ?
Bruce looked around the control room. Who had designed the aircraft, he wondered. Where had it been built? And the cloaking effect? How was that achieved? He'd love to fly The Demon back to Gotham City and have the R-and-D boys at Wayne Tech do a little reverse engineering. An aircraft such as this could be of great value to him on his own sworn mission.
Bruce thought of his oath to his parents' memorya promise that he seemed to have set aside in the weeks since he had met Talia. He knew how easy it was to lose himself in her soft, brown eyes, and to allow himself to be enveloped in the promise of eternity reflected within them. When he did, his oath to his parents' memory faded into the dim recesses of his mind. He wondered whether he would even be able to keep his vow upon his return to Gotham City.
His thoughts next turned to his father-in-law. How could it be that with his personal contacts and knowledge of the world of finance, Bruce had never heard of him before? Who are you, Ra's al Ghul? And just what exactly is it that you want...?
Batman disconnected the call to the Manor. No answer. Was he too late?
He thought again about the enigmatic Ra's al Ghul, the answer to the question that had haunted him all those years ago staring him in the face. Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, Batman deftly maneuvered the Batmobile round a hairpin turn. The next instant, he turned left onto the long, dark secluded road that led towards the Batcave's hidden entrance. How could he have allowed al Ghul to run free all these years? He should have taken care of that madman when he had the chance.
Was he too late?
Deliberately shoving the memories of that long ago flight to the backburner, Batman brought the Batmobile to a screeching halt and jumped out. A flashing red light on the Batcave's security monitor station caught his eye. The same icy fist that had latched onto his throat earlier squeezed harder, nearly choking him. The Manor's top-level security, which rivaled that of the White House, had been breached. Not bothering to change into civilian clothes, the Dark Knight rushed upstairs to the Manor.
Heart pounding, he entered the study through the secret entrance. The room was in total darkness. Automatically, Batman's Starlite lenses kicked in, allowing him to see clearly even in the deep shadow. Soundlessly, he crossed the study and paused at the door, listening for any sounds from beyond.
Carefully opening the door, he noted that all the lights were out in the house, leaving the large estate in utter gloom. He took a moment to survey the main hallway on the lower floor, which bisected the Manor on a north/south axis. Secondary passageways branch off at both diagonal and perpendicular angles.
Midway down the hall, an ornate, arched entranceway announced the grand ballroom; beyond that the Manor's graceful marble staircase curved up to the second floor. Moving with the stealth of a predator on the hunt, Batman opted for one of the branch corridors that led to the vast kitchen area. Barely giving the gleaming kitchen a cursory glance, Batman took the back stairs to the family living area.
Cautiously placing each foot down, Batman again thought of the message that Gordon had given him: The time is at hand. Not if I have anything to say about it, he vowed silently.
If he had ever doubted Ra's al Ghul's mad intent, he no longer did. Al Ghul wanted his grandson. He wanted Dicky.
Batman quickly checked each room upstairs, steadily working his way down the hall until all he had left was Dicky's room. Listening for any sounds coming from the other side of the door, he turned the doorknob and slowly pushed the door open. What he saw made him freeze in place, his heart hammering in his ears.
The room was turned upside down indicating that a fierce battle had been recently fought. The antique rocking horse that always stood in the far corner lay in pieces, as if someone or something had crashed into it. The pictures that Dicky had placed with such care on the mantle lay shattered on the floor. Dicky's bedcovers were thrown everywhere, the heavy bed broken and overturned.
A low moan coming from underneath one of the mattresses galvanized Batman into action. In seconds, he had moved the mattress off the crumpled form beneath and was holding Alfred tenderly in his arms.
"Sir...? Master Richard? Is he?"
"Shhhh...don't try to talk, Old Friend," Batman murmured, checking the loyal butler for injuries. "You've got quite a bump on your head."
"How cliché," Alfred mumbled dryly.
"Welcome to the club," Batman quipped. He pulled back the Bat cowl, instantly transforming back into Bruce Wayne. "Now we can truthfully say that every member of the family has been knocked out at least once with a blow to the back of the head."
"Bloody marvelous," Alfred managed. Bruce's hard features softened into a half-smile. He checked Alfred for more injuries.
"There doesn't seem to be anything else broken. Why don't we make you more comfortable?"
Placing his hand on Bruce's arm entreatingly, Alfred shook his head. "Don't worry about me, Master Bruce. You must hurry. Those ruffians took the young master, and there's no telling where?"
"Don't worry, Alfred," Bruce said with quiet confidence. "I know exactly who has him...and where they're taking him. And I promise, we'll get our boy back." At Alfred's questioning look, Bruce answered succinctly, "Ra's al Ghul."
Eyes wide, Alfred barely whispered, "My word!"
Batman hurriedly loaded the equipment he would need on the trip. As he did, Alfred calmly checked off each item from the cargo manifest. After the last item was properly stowed, Batman began a detailed pre-flight check. He was flying the Batwing a distance farther than he had ever flown it before and wanted to ensure that he did not encounter unexpected problems en-route.
As Batman was completing the pre-flight, Alfred appeared next to him. To Batman's surprise, the proper Englishman calmly strapped himself into the co-pilot seat. Watching wordlessly, mouth agape, Batman was about to speak, when Alfred beat to the punch.
"Close your mouth, young man," Alfred scolded. "I've told before that it is a most unseemly habit." Automatically Batman closed his mouth, feeling as if he were ten all over again.
"Just where do you think you're going?" Batman demanded.
"With you."
"Not likely! You might as well just un-strap yourself and get off right now. I've got a tight schedule to keep."
"Then I suggest you stop talking and get this craft in the air," Alfred rejoined calmly. Eyes narrowed he added dangerously, "Master Richard was taken while under my care. I promise that I will make those responsible pay for their misdeeds."
End of Part Ten