IN THE CROSSHAIRS

Chapter 26

After supper, Bane retired with his family to their suite, a part of him hoping Nyssa would delay their meeting until the morning. But shortly thereafter, she called to summon him to his office.

When Henri realized his father would be leaving, sadness and anger leapt to his face. "You can't go, Papa Baba! You promised you'd read a bedtime story to me and Meli."

"My apologies," Bane said in all sincerity, for he had looked forward to a peaceful evening with his family. "But I must speak with your aunt."

Furious, Henri stood from the rug where he had been playing with his Legos. "Tell Aunt Nyssa no. Tell her you promised us!" With that, he flung a handful of Legos across the room.

Bristling, Bane glanced at Talia who was bouncing Melisande on her hip, trying to distract the infant from her brother's tantrum. Talia gave Bane a familiar look, one that told him it was his turn to deal with their headstrong son; she had done it enough over the past weeks. Her attention returned to Melisande who began to fuss.

"Boy," Bane growled, "you will pick up those Legos now or you will never see them again."

Henri faced his father with clenched fists. "I don't want your stupid Legos."

Bane started toward him. Henri's bottom lip trembled with fear, but he held his ground, tears filling his eyes. Just before his father reached him, he spun to escape, but Bane snatched him by one arm and held him in place.

Melisande began to cry. Talia turned her away from the scene, hushing her and holding her close, swaying back and forth to soothe her.

Bane bent close to his son's face. "You will obey me, boy."

"But you promised," Henri blubbered.

"I know what I promised, and I have apologized for having to break that promise. Sometimes we must do things we do not want to do, like picking up your toys."

Sobbing and unable to look at his father, Henri allowed one final, quiet, "But you promised…" Bane freed him and waited until all the Legos had been returned to their box, Melisande's cries had grown furious, assaulting his ears.

"Now," Bane said, "it is time for your bath. And I do not want to return to hear that you gave your mother trouble. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Henri mumbled, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, sniffling.

As the boy trailed after his mother, Bane tempered his tone and said, "There will be time for stories tomorrow, boy. I will not let anything get in our way then."

Henri gave him a brief glance. The disbelief in the child's eyes wounded Bane. As Melisande's shrieks and accusing moist brown gaze chased him from the family suite, he could not help thinking about Talia's earlier request for him to be present always for his children.

Talia had wanted to accompany him to his meeting with Nyssa, something she rarely did, but between their children's unruliness and Bane's request for restraint in possibly provoking her sister, Talia had begrudgingly agreed to remain behind. Unlike her children, her last look toward Bane was one of encouragement. Her support gave him strength.

As he left the suite, he regretted having gotten tough with Henri. The boy had every right to be angry with his wayward father. But he also knew discipline had to be maintained when it came to his son. Henri had always pushed the envelope with his mother, and as he had just now, he would also occasionally challenge his father, especially right before Bane would leave on League business or soon after he returned. Henri's way of punishing him for his absence. It was rare that Bane had to lay a hand on the boy like he had a moment ago; usually a dark look or a growled word was enough to make Henri toe the line. The fact that it had gone beyond that tonight told Bane much about his son's state of mind.

Just as Bane started down the stairs, Kavitha and her mother were on their way up, James riding his aunt piggyback. The boy's expression opened with hope when he saw Bane, for if Bane was home that would normally mean his father was also.

"Daddy home!" he cried joyfully, his entire being transforming in an instant.

They all stopped at the midpoint of the stairs, Bane saying, "Good evening, ladies."

"Namaste, Sahib," Vita said, bringing her hands together and bowing.

"Daddy home, naniji! Where Daddy, Unca Bane?"

"He is not home yet," Bane said, trying to sound as neutral as possible. "But soon, little one."

James's gaunt face fell, and tears instantly welled up.

"Come now, boy," Bane soothed as he lifted James from Kavitha, who joined her mother in saying whatever they could to console the child. Bane held him in the crook of one arm so he could face him. James's obvious loss of weight and pinched countenance concerned him. Talia had not been exaggerating when she had told him about James's health.

"Want Daddy," James sobbed.

"I know," Bane said, "and he will be home soon. You must be strong and brave, like your father. No more crying. Look, you are upsetting your grandmother."

James put his arms around Bane's neck and held tight. "Make Daddy come home."

"I told you he will be here soon. Now, you must go with your naniji. It is bedtime. Henri is taking a bath. You could join him."

Maysam appeared at the top of the stairs, drawn by James's cries, no doubt. She rushed to them. "Oh, habibi, what's wrong?"

Bane had to pry the boy away, feeling criminal for having to do so. He handed him to Maysam, all the women talking at once in a continued effort to comfort James. Bane had hoped to send Maysam to help Talia with his unruly cubs, but he saw now that James needed Maysam even more than Talia did. Barely noticed, he excused himself, and fled down the stairs.

When he reached the music room, he found two of Nyssa's men stationed near the doorway. They coolly acknowledged him, otherwise they were stoic. In the spacious room, Nyssa stood looking out one of the windows. She wore a dark green tunic and black leggings that showed off her shapely legs. Black leather ankle boots with a low heel completed her attire. Her loose hair flowed down her straight back like a satin curtain, matching the darkness beyond the window.

"Good evening, sister," he rumbled. "I am sorry you could not join us for supper, but I understand your eagerness to see your mother."

Nyssa turned, face set in an unreadable mask. "Good evening."

Bane gestured toward his office. "Shall we?"

Nyssa followed him into the alcove. "Where is he…the assassin? Did you bring him here?"

"Not the assassin, no. He has not been apprehended yet. But the man responsible for the attempt on Barsad's life is here. Yemi has taken charge of him. He will be bringing him to us shortly." Bane settled into the chair behind his desk, nearly grunting from having overeaten at the dinner table, an unfortunate habit whenever he returned from the field. "But before he arrives, I have video evidence to show you."

Nyssa remained standing, arms crossed, looking skeptical. Bane opened a top drawer to retrieve a thumb drive and slipped it into the USB port on his laptop. Nyssa came to stand at his shoulder.

"I have had the footage enhanced, but it is not as clear as I would like. However, the audio will make his identity clear even if the video falls short."

He increased the volume as he opened the file and angled the laptop more toward Nyssa. Then he said nothing as the video played. He could see Nyssa's face reflected in the monitor. Her expression was relaxed, but he sensed her keen interest. When Brennan entered the room and emptied his clip into the hapless man on the charpoy, Nyssa raised one eyebrow. But only when Bane entered the room and turned on the light and she heard Brennan's, "Son of a bitch!" did her expression open into shock. The audio came clearly, for Bane had used his cellphone to capture his conversation with Brennan. As Nyssa listened, anger lowered her brow.

When the video ended, she asked, "Why were you there with Brennan? Why did he say you set him up?"

Bane noticed a light shade of pink to Nyssa's cheeks, no doubt from her learning from the audio that he knew about her physical relationship with Brennan.

"I had received information that Brennan was behind the attempt on Barsad's life. So, I put an operation in place to draw Brennan out. I knew if the intel was correct—and I was confident it was—Brennan would make a second attempt to kill Barsad."

"A second attempt?" Nyssa scoffed, moving to the front of the desk. "Brennan was with me when Sanjana was killed; he couldn't have been the sniper."

"As I said earlier, Brennan was not the assassin, just the man who acquired the assassin. I told Brennan that I had spoken to Barsad, and I gave him the location of the hostel where Barsad was staying. Of course, Barsad was not there."

"Who gave you the information about Brennan?"

"Yemi."

Irritated, she paced the floor. "And what was Yemi's source?"

"Brennan himself."

"Why would he tell Yemi anything?"

"He did not tell Yemi; Yemi obtained a recording of one of Brennan's phone calls. I will play it for you."

Nyssa made a visible effort to contain her agitation, stopping to stand at the front of Bane's desk, her fingertips resting lightly on the wood as Bane cued up the audio on the laptop.

"What the fuck happened?" asked the caller, a man with an eastern European accent.

"How the hell do I know?" Brennan snapped. "It was a straightforward operation."

"I was told the shooter killed Barsad's woman instead of the target. What kind of idiot did you hire?"

"I've never known him to miss."

"Why didn't he displace and try again?"

"He said he didn't have another opening. Everything's tightly packed in those slums. And an extraction team was called in. They got him out under cover of darkness."

"What is our sister saying?" the caller demanded. "Does she know where Barsad is now?"

"He's headed back to his base," Brennan replied, "with his whore's family. Our sister is pissed. She wanted the family eliminated after it happened. Barsad ignored her authority again."

"No surprise. Now what? We will never draw him out in the open like that a second time."

"Leave it to me. I'll fix it."

"How?"

"I'll figure something out." Brennan ended the call.

Nyssa said nothing, staring at the desk for a moment before turning on her heels and walking to the alcove's entrance. She stared toward the piano at the other end of the music room. Bane stayed silent, unmoving, allowing the ramifications of all she had learned to be completely absorbed.

"You know who the caller was," she said after a time. It was a statement, not a question, for they both knew the man.

"Yes. He is under surveillance as we speak. Our brothers, however, will not move on him until you or I give the order."

She turned. "You took charge of Brennan without consulting me. Why is Sidorov any different?"

Bane stood, closing the laptop. He came around the desk and sat back against its edge, crossed his arms against his form-fitting gray tank top. When he spoke, he kept his voice low to ensure his words could not be heard beyond his office.

"The difference, sister, is that you do not have a personal relationship with Grigor Sidorov."

Nyssa scoffed again and paced around the desk, away from him. "I don't know where you got your intel, Bane, but I'm not in love with Marcus Brennan. Has he told you I am?"

"I would never assume to believe such a thing nor be a hypocrite to judge you for it, considering my relationship with your sister. Whether love is a component of your relationship with Brennan or not, I do believe you have a personal relationship with him, one that could corrupt your objectivity in the matter at hand. And because of that belief, I felt it necessary to keep knowledge of my operation to apprehend him to myself."

Anger laced Nyssa's words. "So, you think me incapable of being objective. I thought you gave me more credit as a leader than that, brother. After all, you were one of the council members who voted for my ascension."

"Though you are the Demon's Head, you are also human. You handpicked Brennan as your head of security; you have a history. It would be natural for you to doubt him capable of this foolish plan of his."

She hesitated. "Oh, but you're wrong there, brother. I have little doubt he's capable of this and more. Like me, he's never trusted Barsad. In fact, he hates Barsad and has always said Barsad would turn our brothers against me. He was trying to protect me. You, of all people, should understand the strength of a protector's bond."

"I believe," Bane growled, "his motivations are not honorable but selfish. He is a man of ambition. He wants to please you and curry your favor, but the core of this matter is not his personal ambitions; no, it is the fact that he disobeyed your orders and attempted to murder your third in command. Or am I to believe you did not, in fact, tell him to apprehend Barsad but instead to eliminate him?"

Nyssa paced briskly back to stand in front of Bane, her eyes afire. "Are you accusing me of lying?"

"I am merely asking for verification of what I understood to be a clear order to bring Barsad in alive."

"Of course that was my order." She collected herself, her tone softening slightly. "It's no secret to anyone that Barsad and I have had our differences from the beginning, but my intention for this investigation was to ascertain the truth, in a manner acceptable to the League. There'll be no vigilante justice in our ranks. And how dare you talk to me about Brennan's insubordination when you've been shielding Barsad who's now blatantly flouted my authority not once but twice since all this started? First AWOL to go to India, then charging off after Sanjana's killer when I strictly forbade it. If that isn't you being hypocritical, then I don't know what is."

Bane took a deep, quiet breath before replying. "Barsad has not attempted to murder one of our brethren. That is the difference here. And this goes beyond Brennan's attempted murder on the video you just watched. He is responsible for the fabrication of Barsad's supposed plan to overthrow you."

"You have proof of that?"

"It only makes sense since I know from Barsad himself that he has never sewn any seeds of rebellion in our ranks. Unlike Brennan, Barsad has no desire to curry your favor or move upwards in the League. And I believe Brennan or Sidorov will admit to the fabrication under your interrogation. But, as I said, I await your orders when it comes to bringing Sidorov here."

Nyssa looked unconvinced when it came to Bane's defense of Barsad, but she seemed to consider the rest, again turning to pace around the desk, this time slower, the agitation now banished. Light from the lamp on Bane's desk shone against her hair, the sway of her hips momentarily catching his attention, reminding him of his brief encounter in the shower with Talia. How similar yet different the two women were. What would Rā's al Ghūl think if he could see his daughters side by side now?

Nyssa made one lap around the desk, coming to stop again in front of him. "Apprehend Sidorov and have him brought here. I'll call a meeting of the council. Do you have any objection to them convening here?"

"On the contrary, I prefer it. I fear if I were to leave so soon after my return, my children might call for my head." He could not help smiling. "They were nearly unmanageable simply when they were told I would not be available to read them a bedtime story just now."

Nyssa allowed a small laugh. "Well, you can't blame them. They do love you, for some reason." She gave him a knowing look, the look of an aunt, causing him to chuckle, pleased that she showed interest in her niece and nephew. But then her mirth was gone. "And Barsad has been AWOL just as long. He's not helping his cause. And he's not helping that boy of his. James looks sickly."

Bane frowned. "Indeed, he does."

"You should tell him that, when he reaches out to you." She raised a displeased, knowing eyebrow. "Or when you reach out to him."

Before Bane could respond, Yemi arrived with Brennan. The latter's face reflected only a fleeting flash of dread when he saw Nyssa, then he came to attention, tossing a brief glare at Bane. Yemi stepped back, one hand resting on the butt of his holstered pistol, awaiting further orders.

"Thank you, Yemi," Nyssa said. "That'll be all."

She waited until the sound of the big Nigerian's footfalls faded before she stepped over to Brennan. She sized the man up, jaw tightening with tension, then she struck him with a lightning backhand that turned his head. Anger flared in his eyes, but he managed to hold his tongue.

"If I had realized how stupid you are," Nyssa began, "I never would've chosen you for the position you've held. I suppose I should blame myself for my own stupidity in the matter. Did you think just because I allowed you in my bed that I'd look the other way after you assassinated Barsad?"

"Allowed?" Brennan growled then caught himself.

"Surely you don't have illusions about what our physical relationship meant. And even if it had meant anything to me, after what you've done, I'll never waste my time on you again. You'll be lucky to get out of this with your life."

"So I'm gonna take the fall for trying to do what you've wanted all along?"

Nyssa appeared poised to strike him again. "So, you're a mind reader now? I challenge you to tell me when I've ever said I wanted Barsad dead."

"You didn't need to say it. I'm the closest man to you; anyone in my position worth his salt knows how to read his commander's needs and isn't afraid to meet those needs without being told. Don't you agree, Bane?" he asked sarcastically. "Isn't that how it is between you and Barsad?"

Bane crossed his arms across his chest and glowered at Brennan. "Do not assume you know anything about my relationship with Barsad."

"My orders were plain," Nyssa said. "If you recall, I even repeated the directive that Barsad was to be taken alive, and I had you repeat that you acknowledged that directive."

"I couldn't take the chance that Barsad wasn't lying in wait for me. After all, the intel that he was at the hostel came from Bane, Barsad's biggest ally. How did I know the two of them weren't out to eliminate me and slow the investigation into his activities?"

"Don't take me for an idiot, Marcus. I watched the tape, and I heard the phone call."

Brennan hesitated, blinked, glanced between Bane and Nyssa. "Phone call?" Some of the color fled his face.

Nyssa looked over her shoulder at Bane. "You didn't play it for him?"

"I wanted you to hear it first." Bane's eyes narrowed on Brennan with self-satisfaction. "And I admit I wanted to relish seeing his reaction in front of you."

"What fucking phone call?" Brennan demanded.

"Play it for him, Bane."

As the recording played once more, Bane watched some of the fight drain from Brennan.

"So," Nyssa said afterwards, "it was you behind the shooter in Jaipur." When Brennan failed to answer, she added, "Lying to me won't improve your chances of staying alive."

Brennan stared angrily at her. "What, so you're ready to kill me for protecting you from Barsad's plans to usurp you?"

"Answer my question."

Brennan steamed for a moment, keeping his attention away from Bane. Bane knew Brennan was trying to grasp the fact that his lover had not shown even a shred of sympathy for his predicament and that she obviously did not share his depth of emotion for their relationship.

Finally, he gritted out his confession. "Yeah, it was me. I drew him out. And he was stupid enough to let me do it."

"Stupidity had nothing to do with Barsad's actions," Bane said. "He went to Jaipur for Sanjana's sake. Unlike your misguided tryst with our commander, there was genuine love between Barsad and Sanjana. To think that he lost someone of her quality, all because of your selfish designs, is enough to make me snap your neck. It has not been easy for me to restrain myself so the League could try you. And, of course, you were also behind the death of Sanjana's father. Another needless loss."

"Fuck Barsad, and fuck his Indian whore," Brennan snapped. "No one else in the League is saying 'Fuck you' to the League's rules by living in a chateau with a whore and a bastard kid. Well, no one else except you."

Bane would have covered the small space in less than two strides and killed Brennan before the man could draw another breath, but Nyssa placed herself between the two with the quickness of a cat.

"Stand down, brother," she commanded with iron in her tone, staring him right in the eyes. Beyond her, Brennan allowed himself to look smug, confident in her protection. "The council will deal with him, not just you and I."

Bane's nostrils flared with his effort to restrain his rage, his fingers balled into fists, his gaze searing into Brennan's.

"Leave us, Bane," Nyssa commanded.

But Bane remained in place, his breathing audible, labored as if he still wore the mask. Sibilantly, he said Brennan, "Rest assured, the council will find you guilty, then we will turn you over to Barsad, if I have any say in the matter. And when we do, you will be wishing our sister had allowed me to end you here and now."

Try as he might to conceal his fear, Brennan swallowed hard, and this time he was wise enough to keep silent.

Bane gave him one last frigid look before leaving the office.

Bane seethed as he strode the length of the music room, avoiding the exit closer to his office where Nyssa's men stood. The heaviness of his steps bespoke the rage boiling inside him. Truth be told, he was as angry with himself for losing control in front of Nyssa and Brennan as he was about what Brennan had said about Barsad and his family. If he demonstrated that he could not be impartial, Nyssa might very well insist to the council that he be barred from deliberations concerning Brennan. She might already have been considering it, even before the scene in his office just now.

His reaction, if he thought about it, probably had more to do with Brennan insulting Sanjana than anything else. While with Barsad for these past weeks, he had not allowed himself to mourn Sanjana, for he needed to stay focused on the task at hand and on keeping Barsad from imploding. Now, having returned to Chateau Blanc, he felt her absence keenly. She had always welcomed him so warmly when he and Barsad returned from missions.

Now, as he passed the suite of rooms on the second floor that Sanjana had shared with her family, a chill seemed to reach out from that space and penetrate the heat of Bane's anger. How dare Brennan besmirch Sanjana's name? If the man only knew how much Sanjana had wanted to marry Barsad… Bane scoffed. What did he care about what Brennan or anyone else thought? Still, the emptiness of Sanjana's absence made him tender; he might as well accept it and learn to control his passions when it came to the situation with Brennan.

Fortunately, he knew what could take his mind off everything. And hopefully they were not already asleep.

He expected to find Talia relaxing with a glass of wine in the living room when he returned, but there was no sign of her. When he listened close, he detected her voice from the direction of the nursery. Then came a cry from Melisande. Not asleep, after all. He smiled to himself.

In the nursery, he found Talia in the rocking chair, Melisande wrapped in a light blanket in her arms. The baby fussed, a stubborn twist to her lips as her mother rocked and softly sang to her, a lullaby he used to sing to her in the pit. When Talia's attention lifted to Bane, Melisande's gaze followed. The baby's expression softened into a smile, and she said, "Ba-ba!"

"Come here, you little wiggle worm," he said, drawing near, arms outstretched. Looking relieved, Talia handed Melisande over to him. He kissed his daughter who gurgled in delight. "And how did Henri behave for his bath?"

Talia stood, straightening her back as if sore, no doubt her old Gotham injuries nagging her. "He was petulant, but I think he knew better than to go too far, having seen how angry you were with him."

"Why don't you pour yourself a glass of wine and relax, my dear? I shall take care of our little princess."

"Would you like a glass, too? A treat after all your hard work. Maybe even something stronger?"

Bane chuckled. "Your mother is always trying to corrupt me, Melisande. No, my dear, but I will take a cup of chai. Thank you."

"Very well." Talia kissed his cheek. "Don't keep Meli awake too long."

As Talia left, Bane settled into the rocking chair. "It seems I promised you a story, little one."

He opened the drawer on the small table beside him and withdrew a pair of black-framed reading glasses. His vanity made him refrain from using the readers around Talia, all too conscious of their age difference, especially now. Barsad had once caught him using them in his office, and the sight had pulled a grin and a cheeky comment from his lieutenant. Bane's growled response hopefully ensured Barsad would not make the same mistake twice.

From the short stack of picture storybooks beside him, he selected one and began to read about a wayward lamb. Within minutes, Melisande was fast asleep. He remained holding her for some time, just watching her, listening to her breathe. At times like this, he always remembered Talia's infancy, when her mother had allowed him to hold her. He had felt so privileged. And he remembered the sensation of being filled with love, love for Talia as well as her love for him. It had been in her eyes as plain to him then as it was today. If not for her childhood love as well as her mother's, he knew he would have been a much different man, perhaps a mere brute like the prisoners who had killed Talia's mother, perhaps he would have even died in the pit. But that love had given him a purpose, a purpose far beyond the basic purpose of survival. And ultimately that love had led to the creation of this child, and the love was again returned to him by her. An endless cycle that he would preserve.

He noticed that his own respiration had slowed, his muscle had relaxed, his back did not ache so much. And for a moment he forgot about everything except the baby in his arms.