GOTHAM CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT
Following breakfast, Jordan returned to the guest house to shower and change clothes before she and Bruce headed into the city for a meeting with Jim Gordon and the FBI agent assigned to her case, John Frederick. Entering the building, they passed through the metal detectors before being directed to the 3rd floor. The arrival of the stunningly beautiful blonde and handsome Gotham billionaire caused more than a few heads to turn, but the couple was oblivious to the attention as they approached the visitor's desk and exchanged friendly smiles with the desk sergeant.
"Good Morning," Jordan greeted. "I'm Jordan Kent. I believe Commissioner Gordon is expecting myself and Mr. Wayne."
The woman glanced at an appointment book on her desk before responding. "Yes, Dr. Kent," she confirmed. "The Commissioner and Agent Frederick are waiting in the conference room. It's at the end of the hall, last door on your right."
"Thank you."
The two made their way down the hall and entered the conference room, finding Gordon and Frederick seated at the table with a file folder in front of them. Special Agent Frederick was a man about Gordon's age with close cropped brown hair streaked with gray and brown eyes. The men rose to their feet as the couple entered, and the latter hid his reaction to Jordan.
Man she's a looker, he observed. Wayne is one lucky guy.
The group exchanged greetings and handshakes before they all seated themselves.
"Commissioner Gordon indicated that you were interested in seeing the forensics findings on the two explosions involving Dr. Kent," Frederick began.
Picking up the folder in front of him, he flipped it open and turned it around before sliding it across the table to Jordan and Bruce.
"This is the report on the explosion at the Convention Center," he replied. "Most of it is a bunch of techno babble, but the findings were consistent with what would be expected after a direct hit by a TOW 2B missile. The debris field and blast radius indicate the Center was struck by a single missile from a range of no more than a mile."
"How could someone walk around with that kind of weaponry in broad daylight without being noticed?" Jordan queried.
"Well, to the untrained eye much of the equipment used to set up the launcher for this particular type of missile could be mistaken for photography supplies," Frederick told him. "Most tourists walk around the city lugging cameras that weigh more than a small child. And in any event, there are plenty of high-rise buildings in that area. Somebody with a working knowledge of the neighborhood could slip into an unoccupied stairwell and make their way to a roof within striking distance."
"Was this Jordan's rental car?" Bruce prompted, holding up a picture of a blackened, smoldering heap of metal and feeling something akin to nausea settle in his stomach. I don't even want to think about what would have happened if Jordan had been inside the car when it was hit.
"What's left of it," Gordon confirmed. "According to the statement Dr. Kent gave the police, she was walking past a line of cars in the parking lot speaking on her cell phone when the car she had been driving suddenly exploded. She was about 25 feet away which is what saved her life, but the blast took out the cars on either side of hers and the force of the concussion wave sent her flying through the air a good five or six feet. You're a very lucky woman, Dr. Kent. If you had been any closer to the car, you'd be dead."
"Thank God for small favors," Jordan quipped.
"Have you been able to determine if the car itself was rigged with an explosive?" Bruce inquired.
"It wasn't," Gordon said. "Again, the blast radius and debris field were consistent with a missile strike, not a smaller type of explosive that could have been planted in or on the car."
"Was anyone else hurt?" Jordan asked.
Gordon shook his head. "Whoever these people are, they're obviously only interested in you, Dr. Kent," he replied. "My guess is they only struck the Convention Center to make it seem like a terrorist attack. When that assault failed, they decided to target you a second time directly."
"Do you have any idea why these people are trying to kill you?" Frederick questioned. "Could it have anything to do with your prior position with Interpol's Environmental Crimes Division?"
Jordan and Bruce exchanged a look, and the latter replied. "So much for that secret."
"How do you know about that?" Jordan asked.
"Interpol was involved in the preliminary investigation of the first explosion due to the multiple countries being represented at the CITES summit," Frederick told her. "Once the investigation was downsized to only include Gotham City and it became clear you were actually the target, they gave your information to the Bureau's field office here in Gotham."
"Of course," Jordan allowed. "No, I don't think it's related to that. I'm operating under the assumption that they're after me because I uncovered evidence some weeks ago that someone at PEACE is laundering money for terrorist activities."
"Unfortunately, that's not surprising," Frederick said. "Wildlife conservation can be a dangerous business. Poachers are usually involved in other illegal activities such as drug running, weapons smuggling, even human trafficking."
"I'm curious as to how and where they could have obtained the missiles," Jordan said. "It's not like you can buy them on Amazon."
"We've determined that a group of men who were apprehended at the harbor last night are the ones responsible for stealing the weapons," Gordon said. "Based on the weaponry that was confiscated, we suspect that they work for Lex Luthor."
Both Jordan and Bruce were clearly surprised.
"What makes you think that the men are connected to Luthor?" Bruce asked.
"Preliminary tracking on the serial numbers of the weapons indicates they're from the same batch that a Russian arms dealer named Anatoli Knyazev sold to Lex Luthor last year just before that fiasco in Metropolis," Frederick explained. "Everybody knows that Luthor's two goals in life are world domination and finding a way to kill Superman. If he can make a little extra cash on the side by selling illegal weapons to terrorists in the meantime, so much the better."
"Another reason to stake his sorry ass under a desert sun and let the ants eat him alive while he burns to death," Jordan said to no one in particular.
Beside her, Bruce permitted himself a faint smile at her declaration. Sounds like I got off lucky with just a punch to the face, he thought.
"If neither of you have any other questions, I think we're done here," Frederick said.
They all stood up and as they exited the room, Gordan said to Jordan and Bruce, "If you happen to remember anything that might help us determine who's behind these attacks, please let me know."
"We will," Bruce assured him. "We appreciate your time, Gentlemen."
"Happy to help," Gordon responded.
"Dr. Kent, your brother works for The Daily Planet, right?" Frederick asked. "He and Lois Lane are always getting those Superman stories?"
Jordan nodded.
"You tell them that next time they see Superman, to tell him from all of us at the Bureau that we're damn glad to have him back. I don't care what kind of crap people say; the world wasn't the same without him."
Thank you, Jordan thought in silent appreciation. Aloud she replied, "I'll pass that along."
The group exchanged farewells and Jordan and Bruce showed themselves out of the precinct. Once they were alone, Jordan turned to Bruce.
"We have to call Clark," she said. "He's going to hit the roof when he finds out that Lex Luthor has now been thrown into the mix."
"That has certainly upped the ante on discovering who's trying to kill you," Bruce concurred. "I'll call him from the car and ask him to meet us at my house."
Clark arrived at house before Jordan and Bruce, and was met by Alfred, who was clutching a magazine and wearing a reserved expression on his usually smiling face. "Good afternoon, Master Kent," he greeted.
"What's the matter, Alfred?" Clark asked. "You look a little upset."
"The housekeeper provided me with today's edition of Eye on Gotham," Alfred responded, referring to a notorious local tabloid. "She was concerned that Master Bruce and Miss Jordan would be less than pleased to be on the front page."
He handed the magazine to Clark, who quickly scanned it. "I hope Jordan hasn't seen this," he said with a sigh.
As if on cue, Jordan and Bruce walked into the room and Jordan flashed her brother an affectionate smile as she walked over to give him a hearty hug.
"It's good to see you," she said.
"Likewise," Clark responded. "Hello, Bruce."
"Clark."
"How's life in Metropolis treating you these days?" Jordan asked.
"Work is work and there's been a rash of car jackings that have kept Superman busy, but nothing out of the ordinary."
"How's Lois?"
"She's great," Clark said. "Before we get down to business, you should see this."
Clark handed her the copy of Eye and Bruce stepped behind her to read it over her shoulder as Alfred made a discreet exit. Accompanied by an article entitled "PEACE Biologist Researches Gotham City's Most Eligible Bachelor", there was a photograph of Jordan and Bruce from last night's date bearing the tagline, Who is Bruce Wayne's New Flavor of the Month?
"'Flavor of the Month'?" Jordan read aloud. "Who comes up with this stuff?"
"Certainly not someone with a Princeton degree," Bruce answered from behind her, earning him a look from Jordan that clearly said 'I am not amused'.
Clark gave his sister an expectant glance. "Do you want to have a temper tantrum now, or would you like to wait until after you've tracked down whoever wrote this and broken some of his ribs?" he asked.
Bruce smothered a laugh as Jordan shot her brother a glare that would melt ice.
"That is so not funny," she said. "For the record, while I would certainly prefer not to have our personal lives opened up to public dissemination, the fact is that the gist of the article is correct. Bruce and I are in a relationship, so if the paparazzi gets their kicks plastering our photo in rags like this, so be it."
Clark was clearly surprised at her calm reaction. "Who are you and what have you done with my sister?" he asked incredulously.
"Very funny."
"By the way, is there any truth to the rumor that the CITES summit is being cancelled?"
"Technically, it's being postponed," Jordan clarified. "The authorities handling the investigation decided the summit should be put on hold for the time being to avoid being targeted again. Once they've determined that it can reconvene safely, they'll decide on the new dates and change of venue."
"Do they have any idea yet who may have been responsible for the bombing?" Clark inquired.
"It's my understanding that they are currently focusing on animal rights groups and eco-terrorists."
"Why; aren't all of you on the same side?"
"Mostly, but given recent rumblings that CITES may relax sanctions on the domestic trade of items derived from exotic animal material – such as elephant ivory and big cat fur – they've fallen out of favor with many of the organizations they represent."
"Is that why you met with Commissioner Gordon this morning?"
Jordan and Bruce exchanged a look, knowing that Clark was not going to react well to her secret.
"There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it," Jordan replied. "My job as a wildlife researcher was partly a cover for my position as an agent for Interpol's Environmental Crimes Division. The Interpol Wildlife Working Group to be specific."
Clark's eyes widened in surprise. "Are you telling me you're a spy?" he prompted incredulously.
"Technically I'm an ex-spy," Jordan amended.
"Oh, come on, Jordan; that's splitting hairs. Are you, or are you not, an undercover agent for Interpol?"
"Yes, I was, but I resigned my position with Interpol shortly before you came home."
Clark ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "I don't believe what I'm hearing."
"Clark, it's not as bad as it sounds…" Bruce began, but fell silent at his friend's warning glare.
"Stay out of this, Bruce," Clark said tightly. "This is strictly between my sister and me."
That was not entirely accurate, but Bruce held up his hands in a mute gesture of appeasement.
"You're an ex-spy," Clark repeated. "Just when did you plan on sharing that piece of information with me? Was I going to read about it in your obituary?"
"I don't know, Clark, but if your new band of buddies the press has dubbed the Justice League wasn't around two weeks ago, I might have been reading yours again!" Jordan shot back.
Ouch, Bruce thought to himself. Direct hit, Princess.
"Don't make this about me, Jordan," Clark countered, a flash of anger passing across his face. "Your secret put other people in jeopardy and prevented me from being able to help you the way I should."
"Even if you had known before I came to Gotham City, you couldn't have prevented the attacks," Jordan responded, clearly irritated. "And am I supposed to get preferential treatment because you're my brother? That's not fair to everyone else who needs Superman."
"It's not fair to the people who care about you if you take unnecessary risks because you have to prove you can take care of yourself," Clark countered. "I know you, Jordan. You are so intent on protecting me that you would jump out of a burning building before asking me to help you over somebody else and I love you for it."
He stopped only long enough to close the gap between them and take her hands in his, mindful of the cast on her left wrist.
"But you have to trust that I know whether or not I'm giving you preferential treatment. Deciding who Superman needs to save is my job, not yours."
Knowing he was right, Jordan released a sigh. "I apologize for not telling you sooner," she said. "I honestly felt there was no reason for you to know."
"When it comes to your safety there is nothing that I don't need to know," Clark corrected.
"I'll second that," Bruce interjected evenly.
"I'll make a note of it," Jordan relented.
"Other than the fact that you used work for Interpol, why do these people want you dead?" Clark inquired.
Bruce quickly filled him in on what Jordan had told him regarding the money laundering at PEACE and the terrorist connections. "Jordan's going to provide me with the names of the people who could have accessed the accounts and I'll see what my sources can come up with," he finished.
"Well, now that we have means, motive and opportunity, we just need a specific suspect," Clark said.
"Actually, we already have one," Bruce returned. "According to Agent Frederick, the smugglers that I apprehended last night are employed by Lex Luthor."
"Lex Luthor?" Clark echoed. "What rock did he crawl out from under?"
"It makes a certain amount of sense," Bruce replied. "He knows who you are, so obviously he knows who Jordan is to you. Assassinating her would be an ideal way for him to get his revenge against you and retaliate for Jordan's interference in his business."
"A way to kill two birds with one stone," Clark agreed.
"Precisely."
"Have I mentioned how much I hate that expression?" Jordan interjected.
"Sorry," Clark and Bruce said in unison, earning them a smile from Jordan.
Following the discovery of Luthor's involvement and armed with the knowledge that Jordan herself was the target of the attacks, Bruce had insisted that she relocate to his house for the duration of her stay.
"I know how important your independence is to you, but you're still a target. From now on, you don't set a single foot outside of the house unless you have me or Alfred with you, and you don't go anywhere unless he drives you."
"I don't know that my staying at your house is such a good idea, Bruce," she said.
"I'm not trying to pressure you, Jordan," Bruce assured her, "but it will be easier for me to keep you safe if you're under my roof."
"I understand that, but I don't want to advertise the obvious if the press gets wind of our new living arrangements."
"Worried about your reputation?" Bruce inquired lightly.
"Maybe I'm worried about yours," Jordan countered with a small smile.
"My reputation has nowhere to go but up," Bruce responded drolly. "While I appreciate your concern about advertising the obvious, frankly what anyone else thinks about our relationship is not on my radar."
"Maybe I should follow your example," Jordan remarked. "Instead of worrying about other people's opinions, I should throw decorum aside and do something totally self-gratifying."
He flashed her a mischievous smile. "Was that an invitation, Princess?"
Jordan's own smile widened. "An open one."
Bruce gave a her a brief kiss. "I'll take you up on that as soon as time and opportunity permit," he told her pointedly.
"Do my new living arrangements come with breakfast in bed?"
"I'm sure that can be arranged."
Early in the afternoon of the day after the meeting with the authorities, Jordan was reviewing her email messages on her laptop when she came across one from her boss at PEACE, Mark Ross. Although she did not recognize the other recipient's email address, the implications of the message were unmistakable.
Situation with JK still unresolved. Second strike unsuccessful and exterminators taken into police custody. Must meet ASAP to formulate new plans for elimination.
"That son of a bitch," Jordan muttered to herself.
Jordan quickly turned on her printer and printed out a copy of the incriminating email. Grabbing it in her uninjured hand, she quickly exited the room and went to find Bruce. She found Alfred first, giving instructions to the housekeeper, and she walked over to him.
"Excuse me, Alfred. Where's Bruce?"
Alfred dismissed the housekeeper before answering. "Mister Wayne is in the Southeast wing, Miss Jordan. Is there a problem?"
"Not for much longer," Jordan responded. "Thanks, Alfred."
Jordan made her way through the house and down to the Bat Cave. She found Bruce at his computer, and he turned expectantly as she approached.
"You don't look like a happy woman," he observed.
"I'm not," Jordan confirmed, and handed him the print out. "I think we've got our embezzler."
Bruce scanned the message before returning his attention to Jordan. "How did you get this?" he asked.
"My best guess is that Mark somehow cc'd me by accident when he sent the message. He had sent me a couple of other emails on legitimate PEACE business and his computer must have picked up my address."
"Any idea who this other email address belongs to?"
"No but hopefully that's something you can find out," Jordan replied, and ran her uninjured hand through her hair in frustration. "I trusted this man, Bruce. He was my friend, and my mentor. He was practically a second father to me."
"You knew he was a suspect, Jordan. His name was on the top of the list you gave me of the executives at PEACE who had access to the corporate funds."
"Only because he's CEO," Jordan stated. "It never occurred to me that he could be the one responsible for the attempts on my life." She sighed. "But now that I think about it, he is the most logical suspect."
"How so?" Bruce queried.
"Mark is the one who approves my assignments and he always knows where I am at any given time," Jordan explained. "He was the one who insisted I come to Gotham City as part of the PEACE delegation for the CITES summit, and he knew I was at the zoo the day my rental car was hit."
A belated recollection suddenly popped into Bruce's memory. "I don't know why I didn't make the connection sooner, but the smugglers I intercepted at the harbor two nights ago mentioned Ross by name," he revealed. "They were discussing their 'target' and wondering what she had done to 'piss off Ross so badly'."
"In that case it does look like Mark is the guilty party, but we need more than this email to prove it. Even if you were able to share what you overheard at the harbor with the authorities, it would still be hearsay."
"Then let's follow the money. Can you give me access to the company's financial records?"
"My security code will get you in, but if Mark is online when you start snooping around, he'll be alerted," Jordan cautioned. "PEACE's computer system has a program that automatically alerts another user when one of the company executives is online. Once it identifies your security code, it sends an instant message to a previously designated recipient called your 'Security Buddy' informing them that you're online. It's supposed to prevent hackers from accessing the company's records and prevent employees from engaging in any kind of illegal activity. In my case, Mark is my Security Buddy."
"Obviously there's a way around it if Ross has been funneling money out of the company," Bruce pointed out. "Do you know who would be alerted when he signs on?"
"No, but I might be able to find out."
Jordan reached around him and picked up the receiver for the telephone that was incorporated into the computer system. Dialing in the direct number for Ross' office, she waited patiently for his assistant to pick up the call, which she finally did on the third ring.
"Mark Ross' office, this is Rebecca," a cheerful feminine voice answered.
"Becky, hi…it's Jordan Kent."
"Oh hi, Dr. Kent. I saw your picture in the paper with that dreamy Bruce Wayne. Is he as gorgeous in person as he is in the photograph?"
Rebecca Parker was in her early 20's and while perfectly capable at her job, she had a tendency to get star struck by some of the corporation's more high-profile donors.
"Yes, he is," Jordan confirmed impatiently. "Becky, I need a favor please."
"Sure. What can I do for you?"
"I'm updating some of the personnel records and I need to know who Mark's Security Buddy is."
"Oh sure. Hang on."
Rebecca placed her on hold while she located the information and Jordan glanced over at Bruce. "Mark Ross' assistant thinks you're gorgeous," she informed him blithely.
"Intelligent woman," Bruce responded.
Jordan rolled her eyes as Rebecca came back on the line. "I'm back. Mr. Ross' Security Buddy is Franz Reinkin."
"Excellent. Thanks for the help, Becky."
"No problem. Have fun with Bruce Wayne."
"Good-bye, Becky."
Jordan hung up the phone. "Mark's Security Buddy is PEACE's CFO Franz Reinkin," she replied. "He transferred from our German division about three years ago."
"Really..." Bruce said, and quickly pulled up a file on his computer. He typed in a few commands on the keyboard and the list of names Jordan had given him popped up. "Look at the two names I narrowed your list down to."
"Mark Ross and Franz Reinkin."
"Bingo. If we can find a way to prove Reinkin and Ross were collaborating to fund the terrorist groups, we might actually be able to bring them to justice."
"And in the process destroy everything that the rest of us at PEACE have worked so hard to build," Jordan added.
"I'm sorry, Jordan. I know this must be difficult for you."
"Not as difficult as its going to be for these jerks when I get done with them," Jordan declared.