Dick pasted a smile on his face that became real as he saw Barbara's concern for him. "That's all in the past, sweetheart. What we need to do now is find out what Jen Hill's really up to these days."
"Isn't blackmail enough?" Barbara was still trying to throw off the effects of all that Dick had told her.
"Maybe so, but it just feels...wrong to me. Look, if she was just after money, why didn't she stay with Thompson?"
"Maybe he dropped her. So, she'd want to get even."
"Okay, so she threatens to tell his wife. At that point, it becomes a question of her word against his. If that's all it was, I'd think Thompson would have a good shot at smoothing things over with his wife. That leads me to believe that's she's got more than just her word. And since our Mr. Thompson has so much to lose, I would guess he's pretty careful to make it difficult for someone to catch him."
"So she had to have proof. So?"
"Babs, did Jennifer Hill strike you as someone who was smart enough and resourceful enough to engineer a blackmail scheme?" He grinned wider at Barbara's look of comprehension.
"You're right! It's one thing to entice Ham Hill into marrying her. I would think she would have to have help to pull something like this off."
"You got it. Now who benefits if Palmer's company goes under?"
"Corporate sabotage would make sense," Babs agreed absently as her brain finally stopped trying to figure out what could've been "worse" for Dick and focused on the problem at hand. "It would explain why the amounts were large enough to be noticed and put the company at risk -- why else would Jennifer want to ruin her source of income. I'll look into it."
"Great. I'm on duty tonight, but tomorrow, I'm going to head over to Chicago."
"Chicago!" Babs squeaked.
"Yeah. I'll talk to Thompson first -- I want to be sure we really are talking about blackmail here. Then, I'll...talk...to Ms. Hill."
"Dick, ..." Babs didn't trust that twinkle in his eyes.
"I'll find out where she's got the blackmail materials stashed, while you drain her bank account." When Babs just stared at him, he continued, "Trust me, Babs; she won't recognize me."
"How do you figure that?"
"First, I'll be against a different background -- why would she be expecting to see Dick Grayson in Chicago? Second, it's been a long time, and she only saw me twice. Third," he then winked at her, "believe me, she wasn't staring at my face all that much!" He laughed at her blush as she remembered what Jen Hill had been staring at.
Barbara laughed along with him, but stopped as an idea occurred to her. "It's kinda weird, really."
"What?"
"We're going after Jennifer Hill for blackmail -- maybe she got the idea from Bruce?" She snickered at the stunned look that crossed Dick's face.
"How...did you know about that part? I know I never told you!"
"My dad. He was pretty impressed with 'playboy Bruce' that night. I think that was the first time he saw beneath the facade, but he thought he was only seeing a cutthroat businessman."
"Yeah, Bruce was pretty...atypical...that night." Dick leaned over and gave Babs a long, slow, deep kiss. Then he pulled back. "I've got to head out -- there's some stuff I need to set up before I go on duty -- but I'll probably stop by later this evening. Okay?"
"Okay," she agreed huskily.
****
On his way back to Bludhaven, Dick stopped by the Wayne Enterprises hangar at Gotham's municipal airport. The hangar housed both Bruce Wayne's private and corporate planes. Once inside, he saw the empty office, made a bet with himself, and walked over to Wayne Enterprises' newest (and fastest) acquisition, a Cessna Citation X. Sure enough, the engine canopy was open, and Dick could see the lower half of his target: WE's flight engineer/pilot, Terry Perkins.
"Hi, Terry!" he called out.
Dick heard a clang, then some muttered cursing, but finally someone emerged from underneath the jet. He was a slightly stocky man of medium-height with sandy-blond hair now going gray. Terry Perkins had been a Naval aviator of some distinction until an equipment malfunction led to the crash of his F-14 on a nighttime carrier landing in the Persian Gulf. He had been lucky to escape with his life, but the crash blew out his right knee. After he left the Navy and suffered through months of reconstructive surgery and rehabilitation, he had been encouraged by an old Special Forces friend, Chuck LaGrange, to seek employment with Bruce Wayne. Flying LearJets wasn't quite the same adrenaline rush as landing a Tomcat on a carrier deck in the middle of the ocean, but it was still flying. And when you threw in Bruce Wayne's personal collection of vintage aircraft -- it was an interesting job, at least.
"Hi, Dick! What can I do for you?" Terry walked over to his boss' "son," wiping his hands on a rag. Terry liked Dick Grayson. The kid might've been raised by one of the wealthiest men in the United States, but he had a good head on his shoulders. He was a natural pilot, and he knew how to treat a good piece of machinery.
"I'm planning on flying over to Chicago tomorrow on an errand for Bruce. Is the Mustang available?" Dick asked, keeping his fingers crossed. The old P-51D Mustang was his favorite plane among Bruce's collection. Not coincidentally, it was also the fastest except for the jet planes. Dick liked the jets, but there was just something about flying the old Mustang that drew him back time after time.
Terry smiled. "You bet, kid. I had her up just the other day, but she could certainly go with a longer trip. You want me to pre-flight her?"
"Yeah, thanks! Could you have her ready around 7:00 am?"
"0700 -- you got it, kid." After shaking Dick's hand, Terry went back to getting acquainted with his new charge, the Cessna Citation.
Dick got on his motorcycle and headed back to Bludhaven.
****
Barbara sat in front of her monitor, absently chewing on the end of a pencil. Finding Jennifer Hill's co-conspirator had been trickier than she had expected. Palmer Technologies had quite a few close competitors; it had taken her a while to narrow them down to those with the traditional means, motive, and opportunity. Finally, she had stumbled upon a chance connection: Jennifer Hill and Sarah Montgomery were members of the same gym, or rather, "exercise spa"; Sarah Montgomery was the CFO of Hart Electronics, which was competing with Palmer on various government contracts. Based on the fees the "exercise spa" charged, the barbells must be plated in 24-karat gold, Babs thought in disgust.
It seemed like a simple coincidence -- until Barbara remembered that Sarah Montgomery lived in Manhattan. Why would someone from New York maintain a ritzy gym membership in Chicago? Further digging revealed that Sarah's locker was right next to Jennifer's. Hmmm.
It took a little more (illegal) digging, but by the time Dick called her to let her know he was coming by, Barbara thought she had Jennifer Hill's silent partner pegged.
"I've said it before, but you're a wonder, Babs! I'll be there shortly -- I've got something to show you."
He wouldn't tell her anything more about it, and she practically went cross-eyed trying to spot him on her security monitors without success. Thus, she was completely surprised when her front doorbell rang. She checked her monitors, but all she could see was her stuffed Nightwing doll that had mysteriously turned up missing after Dick had left that morning.
"Hi, it's me!" Dick called through his communicator. "Before you answer the door, I want you to pretend your car has just had a flat tire, and you've been unable to call anyone to come fix it. Okay?"
"Okay..." she replied, mystified.
"Okay, I've just pulled up behind you on my motorcycle. Now open the door and tell me what you think."
Barbara opened the door, still mystified, and then sat frozen in shock. She felt her mouth drop open, but she somehow couldn't convince her jaw to resume its normal function.
Yes, that was Dick Grayson in front of her. She vaguely noted that he was wearing some rather tight black jeans, a bright blue tank top, and his favorite leather motorcycle jacket. She had thought that after having known him (and known him) for so many years that she had built up some resistance to his appearance. So much for that theory. She had always been drawn by his natural charisma -- the magnetism that helped him be the natural leader that he was. Now, she felt as though the whole force of his personality was focused on her, and on attracting her. It was as if she had been expecting candlelight but had been confronted with a searchlight instead.
Finally though, her brain began to function again and successfully communicated to her jaw to close itself and resume forming words. "D..Dick! Um...come on in." She turned away from him as he walked in her doorway.
"You okay?"
Babs turned her head to look back at him. He was back to "normal" -- still devastatingly handsome, of course, but with a gentle smile on his face for her. Embarrassed, she nodded her head and turned back to concentrate on the suddenly difficult task of negotiating her chair through her kitchen. She stopped, though, at a featherlight touch on her shoulder. Dick moved to stand in front of her, bent down, and with the same gentle touch, raised her face to his. His kiss was tender and soothing, yet still with the spark that had always been between them.
"I'll try again. Are you okay?" he asked gently.
"Um...yeah. You just...startled me."
"I noticed. Do you think this will be enough to attract Jen's 'attention?'"
Barbara stared at him in amusement that turned to shock as she realized that he was serious. Dick wasn't stupid -- he knew that women found him very attractive -- but obviously he was still completely unaware of just how powerful that attraction was. "Yeah, I think she'll notice you."