The first cave Bruce explored was a complete bust, running some three hundred yards before it died out. Damn. I thought this was one of the more promising looking ones on the map, too. Retracing his steps back out to the thin trace of gravel that stood between the water and the low cliffs ringing the key, he headed for the next spot he remembered from the Harbormaster's chart. Staying alert for guards on the plateau above him or in boats offshore, he wondered how many of the caves intersected. I'll have to be careful of that; I don't want to start at one end of the island and come out on the other without expecting to.
The second cave he explored went back further than the first, then turned a sharp corner. Stepping around it, Bruce grimaced; without even the very faint light from the entrance, his path was pitch dark. Given the odd angles that made up the walls, he didn't dare create light, as doing so would give him away to anyone up ahead. Pulling out the night vision binoculars for the second time that night, he detached the section that allowed the user to see in even the deepest blackness and held it to his eyes as he walked, cursing the fact that he'd never thought to make a headband for the apparatus. First thing when we get home, he noted. And Dick can probably manage to find room in his belt for something this small, too. I just wish he had space for the full binoculars.
He had no sooner thought that than his son's voice came through his radio. "Hey. Anonymous sentinel. Any luck?"
'Anonymous sentinel?' the man almost laughed. You and your word games. "Nothing," he answered, frowning when a slight crackle interrupted him. Hmm. They don't usually do that. Then again, we don't use them underground much. Probably just interference from the storm and the rock. "You?"
"Nada. Place looks abandoned. I'm going to check inside, though."
"…Watch your back," he warned, his lips pursing. If they aren't in the caves, the lighthouse is the most likely place for them. I should have taken topside.
"You, too. Out." And with that, he was gone.
He continued along the dank corridor, hoping the voice would come through again soon with an all clear message. I shouldn't be this jumpy about it, he thought. I don't like being separated when we're in Gotham, but I'm never this worried. He knew the boy could handle himself; he knew it so well, in fact, that he had been giving serious thought to offering him an occasional solo mission, letting him work it for himself from the ground up. The way he's been working this one, more or less, he realized ruefully.
But this wasn't Gotham. As dangerous as criminals like the Joker and Two-Face could be, they were at least somewhat known quantities, and more importantly they operated against a familiar backdrop. Batman and Robin had never worked a case outside of the city before now, and that, he realized suddenly, was the root of his concern. Now, for instance. If he was to suddenly start screaming through the radio for help, where would I go? How would I get to him? The safest bet would be for me to backtrack out of this cave, return to the bridge, and follow the road to the lighthouse. That would take at least thirty minutes. In Gotham, I know all of the shortcuts through the city; we have the Batmobile waiting to come and get us, or ready to get us home at top speed. We have allies who know us and will respond in an instant. We're out of our element here, and that ramps up the risk enormously.
Acknowledging the source of his unusually high tension helped ease it slightly. His pace through the cave picked up slightly, eventually bringing him to a fork. Hmm. Interesting. The right fork, he decided as he recalled what little he knew of the island's layout, would lead him towards the lighthouse, provided that it didn't veer off. It's worth checking. They probably wouldn't want to hold the girl too close to shore, just in case she tried to escape or someone came looking.
Fifteen minutes later he caught a glimpse of artificial light ahead. Reaching it, he found himself at a T, his path dead-ending into another. The presence of bulbs every ten feet allowed him to tuck his night vision lenses back into the pouch with the binoculars, pleased to have both hands free again. There was a definite slope to the floor of the new passageway, and he was about to follow his earlier instinct to stay inland and take the uphill route when he picked up the very faint sound of an engine from the other direction. Well, that settles that, then, he decided, turning towards it. The motor shut off almost as soon as he heard it, but he persisted. A few turns later, the corridor opened into a wide, well-lit cavern. Fortunately he realized what was happening before he walked into the open, and tucked himself into a crevice in the wall to listen.
"Look, she said not to touch the girl. She didn't say anything about people we found sneaking around." The wheedling voice came from just on the other side of the outcropping he had his back pressed against.
"She'll want him kept alive until she can talk to him. You know how she is."
Hearing the exchange, Bruce froze. They've caught him. Damn it.
"Let's take him out in the boat and feed him to the sharks," the first voice said eagerly.
The masked man nearly leapt into the room at those words, only restraining himself when there was a cry from the captive. That's not Dick, he registered, relieved. Thank god. He frowned. But who else is running around this place at night, in the middle of a storm?
"What's going on here?" The new voice carried a note of authority. "Who is this?"
"Some guy we found trying to sneak up from the cave entrance."
"How did he get here?"
"That green thing. I'm surprised it didn't sink when we tried to drive it in, it's ancient."
Dick's voice flashed through his head. 'Marty Gallagher has rented his slip for almost twenty years. That's the one right next to Bryant's. The green boat…' Of course. It all made sense. Margie said her husband was late coming home this evening, and thought it was because he was mad at her for trying to get him to bring her out here to look for Gina. Instead, he came out here by himself to do that exact thing, and now they've got him. Christ, could this get any more complicated?
"Well, take him up and put him with the girl. Boss lady will want to talk to him."
"…Why don't we ask her if she wants us to keep him?" the first voice suggested hesitantly. "I mean, if she doesn't want him, we could have some fun."
"Fun?"
"He wants to throw him to the sharks, sir."
"…Markowitz, you're a really fucked up person, you know that? You get orders to kill a person, you do it quick, you don't drag it out. Throwing people to sharks, what the hell's wrong with you?"
"What? It'd be more interesting than standing around here twiddling our thumbs."
"That's sick. Sometimes I wonder if you should even be allowed near firearms, you know that?" He made a sound of disgust. "We're not asking the boss. She's busy with Graves in the yacht."
How…Matt. Matt's here. Why is Matt here?
"We'll throw him in with the girl until she's ready for him. C'mon, I'll come with you. Markowitz, quit pouting, you're unsightly enough as it is."
Bruce went absolutely still as they passed. They're awfully confident that they've got this place locked down, considering that they just caught someone trying to sneak in, he noted as the three hired guns swept by without so much as looking to the sides. He stared at their backs as they pulled their captive out of sight around the bend, then maneuvered himself out of his hiding spot. I should go after them and free Gallagher and the girl. The problem was, he wanted to know what business Matthew Graves had on the island. The woman on the yacht has to be Lise. I'm not going to pretend to know why she's the one here instead of Dunaway himself. Maybe she can enlighten me. From what the guard who was obviously the leader had said, the prisoners would be safe at least until Lise and Matt's conversation was over, and that was enough for Bruce.
They were, however, heading in the direction of the lighthouse, and therefore potentially towards Dick. "Hey…" he breathed, activating his radio. He tried to think of a snappy little epithet to match the ones the boy had been calling him all evening, but the effort died on his lips as nothing came to him. "Hey," he repeated more solidly.
"'Sup, uncognominated comrade?"
"'Uncognominated comrade?'" he repeated, arching an eyebrow. Where do you come up with these words?
"Look, dude, I have to call you something."
"Can we keep it limited to three syllable words, at least?"
"Are you trying to take all the fun out of this?" His tone was joking, but Bruce sensed a hint of disappointment. "That's a killer Scrabble word. I used it on Alfred once. You should have seen his face."
"Anyway," he hissed, shoving the conversation back on topic. "Are you inside the lighthouse?"
"Nope. I just fell out of it."
"What?!" Images of concussions and broken bones flew through his head despite the fact that he knew the teen wouldn't sound nearly so cheerful if he had actually taken such a tumble.
"Relax. It's connected to the caves. You sounded like you thought I literally fell off the tower of something." A beat of silence passed. "Oh. Uh, sorry. I'm fine, I'm in the caves now. Where are you?"
"Same," he answered, closing his eyes and shaking his head.
"…Do yours look manmade?"
"Yes."
"Mine, too."
"Listen, three men just left from here, coming in what I believe to be your direction. They have Marty Gallagher with them. They're heading to wherever Gina is being kept."
"Great! Thanks for the heads up, now I can follow them before I attack them."
"Be careful," he ordered. "They're armed, and at least one of them sounded like a professional soldier. Another one seems to like throwing people to sharks. Don't attack them unless you have to. Do you understand?"
"…How do you know he likes throwing people to sharks? No, wait, don't answer that. I don't want to know until we're very far away from the ocean."
"Do you understand?" Listen to me, damn it! He screamed in his head.
"Yes! Chill out, I've done this a time or two, you know."
"…I know. Be careful anyway."
There was a patient sigh on the other end of the transmission. "I will be if you will be."
"Then we have a deal."
"Cool. Pseudonymous wonder, out."
"'Pseudonymous wonder?'" he boggled. How? Really, how do you just spout things like that without prior thought?
"Hey, I like that one, okay? And the implication was that the three-syllable rule only applied to nicknames for you."
"…You know what? Be whoever you want to be."
"Thanks. I will," he answered jestingly.
"Out."
"Out. For real, this time."
Still shaking his head, he ducked around the corner and behind a large rock before taking time to study the cavern. Water filled two thirds of the space, and a good portion of the inlet lake was taken up by a white pleasure boat with the name Irish Mogul etched along its bow. Behind it sat the same moss-colored fishing boat that had been anchored alongside Bryant's slip on the day of the charter; in front of it, pulled in sideways, was the Coeur de Lise. The only guard in sight was a single man circling the deck of the cabin cruiser, his weapon hanging from his shoulder as he whistled an off-key tune lazily.
Moving quickly, Bruce dashed across the gravel and up the ramp as soon as the uniformed man disappeared behind the wheelhouse again. Monitoring the mercenary's approach by the loudness of his song, he struck out twice. The whistling cut off as the guard dropped to the deck, unconscious. He moved him out of sight, giving him an extra rap upside the head for good measure, then picked up the gun distastefully, unloaded it, and dropped the magazine into the water, grinning mirthlessly at the tiny splash it made. The topside secured, he proceeded down into the belly of the boat, determined to learn what was going on directly from the horse's mouth.
"I don't understand why you're holding Gina, Lise." Matt's voice stopped him in his tracks outside of the closed door of one of the yacht's several passenger cabins. "She's completely innocent in this."
"Completely innocent, yes, but she's also a key player." There was a moment of silence before the woman sighed heavily. "How many times to do I have to explain this to you? Bryant's will left a lot to be desired. For one thing, he requested that the girl be given over to the Gallaghers in the event something happened to him. He made it clear that they were to control any legacy he left for her until she came of age. Obviously that doesn't work with the plan, which was that custody would be granted to me. That's why I had you bring me Bryant's will. Until my people are able to create a suitable counterfeit that leaves the question of custody open – his asking to grant it directly to me would be far too suspicious, given our history - she stays missing. We can hold the state Medical Examiner off as long as we need to, but get Social Services involved and everything goes out the window. There has to be an opening prepared for me to step into in order to get control of Gina and everything she'll inherit."
"Wouldn't the problem you mentioned with the relinquishment-"
"That was a lie," she said flatly. "The relinquishment paperwork was flawless. I only told Bryant that to try and scare him into selling. I should have known he'd check before he just took me at my word."
"…How much longer will you hold Gina?"
"A few days, at most. My people are the best of the best, they'll have something suitable drawn up before too much longer. Stop worrying, she's fine. I'm told she's quite strong, and is holding up very well. Of course, she doesn't know her father is dead yet, so that may change."
"…You haven't told her about Bryant?!"
"Why do you sound so concerned, Matt? I mean, really, why do you care? Killing Bryant was your idea in the first place, remember?"
"Bryant was in the way of progress, Lise. He had to go. I've never held any ill will towards Gina, though. He twisted her head a bit, has her thinking the way he did, but that's not her fault."
"…Why did you really want him dead, Matt? Once upon a time you were just as opposed to offshore development as he was on his dying day. I know you, though, and even if your views really did change that much in fifteen years, there's something else there, driving you. There always has been." Bruce heard a squeak that sounded like someone shifting positions in bed.
"My views did change. They had to, once I saw what was happening to this town. Once I failed, and had to be picked back up by my perfect brother," he hissed. "Always the favorite."
"Matt, you're not still nursing the grudge about the boat?" she said fondly, a trace of admiration in her tone.
"Of course I am!" he snapped. "It was mine, my inheritance. Bryant went off to college, he had his scholarship, his dreams, our father's blessing. He was supposed to be the big success. That was fine; I was used to being second best in dad's eyes, and I never wanted to be anything more than a fisherman anyway. Bryant leaving was exactly what I wanted. I would get the boat, and maybe with him gone my father would start to actually notice me, would see how much I wanted to be just like him. And he did; he did start seeing me. We had a relationship for the first time. It was good for about two years, until Bryant started having his doubts about what he really wanted from life. As soon as he started talking about coming home, taking over the family business…as soon as that came up, it was like I no longer existed. It went right back to the way it had been. And then, when he left Bryant the boat…goddamn, Lise, how do you think that made me feel?"
She laughed quietly. "That's so adorable, Matt. You waited fifteen years to get back at him for stealing your toys. So devious, biding your time like that."
"It wasn't so much biding my time as soothing my demons. Bryant wasn't a bad guy, Lise. I know it sounds strange for me to say that, but he wasn't. It's not his fault dad loved him better. He knew that hurt me, and he tried to make up for it, co-signing on the loan for my boat so I could start out on my own. For a while that was enough. It was enough to just be what I'd always wanted to be; a fisherman. I won't pretend like I didn't get some pleasure out of watching you leave him for Dunaway; it wounded him, deeply, and I enjoyed knowing that he finally, finally knew what real rejection felt like. But I didn't hate him. Not until I had to live under his roof, and work for him, and see how happy he was with his little girl when I had nothing and nobody. He was so nice about it, Lise. He never held my failure over me, or made me feel small about it. On the boat, yeah, he was the boss, but at home he was just…Bryant. That was when I started to hate him, because he was just like dad. He didn't even have to try; it just came to him naturally. And I was still my same, miserable self, striving and pushing to be a man like my father was, and failing every time."
"…I never expected to pick up the phone and hear your voice at the other end, you know."
"I never expected to be making that call. I had the worst crush on you the minute he brought you home, you know."
"You told me."
"And you told me that you never saw me that way," he replied darkly.
"You were a spineless, shrinking little man who dogged your father's heels embarrassingly," she defended herself. "There was nothing there for me to be attracted to. That phone call, though…hearing you say you wanted to make a deal, that you could get me the land Jack's been after for years? I like a man with resolve, Matt. The way you spoke when you said you wanted Bryant dead…I hadn't been that turned on in months."
"Lise…how much does Dunaway know about this plan?"
"Oh, all of it."
"Really?"
"This has been a pet project of his ever since I told him about the oil under the cliffs. It's going to make Savant – and, by extension, him – wildly rich. He's been investing in property around here for years, just waiting to get his hands on Bryant's land. He was furious that I didn't mention the oil before I signed Gina away. He beat me terribly that night," she reflected. "But, he paid the best plastic surgeon in the country to make me look even better than I did before, so I can't really complain."
"So why did he send you, if you fucked it up the first time?"
"Oh, it's a long story. Suffice it to say that I've proven my effectiveness at…what should we call this…hostile takeovers. His pet name for me now is his 'little operative.' Besides, I had personal interest in this one."
"Gina."
"Yes. I might have signed away my rights, but I've kept tabs on her. She has a lot of potential, it seems."
"She might look like you, but she's just like Bryant at heart, you know," he warned. "You're not going to be able to make her into a cold, calculating bitch."
"Oh, thank you, darling. But I think you underestimate me."
"I'm telling you, she's a tough one."
"I didn't mean about her."
"…What?" There was a gasp, and in the hall Bruce straightened, tensing. "Lise…You said you loved me." His voice was incredulous.
She laughed loudly. "I do, Matt. I do. I love how conflicted you are, how you torture yourself with your guilt and your sense of failure. It's beautiful, and it's given me so much pleasure these last few months. But it had to end sometime, love. We both knew that."
"We had a deal. Bryant's life and a hundred grand, and I make no claim on the land and back you up in court when you need it."
"I remember. But you're too big of a liability. I'm not going to need your word in court, and even with hush money thrown in it's going to cost me much less than a hundred thousand dollars to have this room reupholstered. I meant it when I said Jack knows all about this plan. Even about you. My little flings in the pursuit of wealth are amusing to him. Ooh, Matt, did you really not see this coming? Please. You know too much, love."
Nostrils flaring – she's going to kill him – Bruce prepared to smash into the room. Matt was scum, but that didn't mean he deserved to die.
"Lise, I swear to god I won't say a word!" Something heavy crashed into the locked door. "Help!" he cried out.
"Shh," she whispered. "You'll never feel a thing. Just like Bryant. Won't that be nice?"
Bruce backed up for a second charge, his muscles bunching. Damn hallway is too narrow, I can't get enough momentum behind me, he cursed. Slamming against the divider, he burst the lock as the report of a pistol reached his ears. He found himself suddenly in the cabin, staring at a bed that was half blood and brains and half weapon-wielding, negligee-clad temptress. Too late, he moaned to himself. No. That bitch. "Well," Lise sighed happily, keeping the gun on him as her eyes roamed up his body. "Aren't you something special, handsome. Thanks for coming."
Had there been any conscious guards in the underground lagoon to hear the second shot, there might have been cause for concern. As it was, the noise merely echoed a few times before fading away, leaving the Irish Mogul rocking gently back and forth in silence.