Disclaimer: DC Comics and Time/Warner own All the characters; this is an original story that does not intend to infringe on their copyright.
Idle Hands
By
Peggie
Bruce Wayne surveyed the sea of faces looking for anyone he really liked or for that matter knew. This was a 24th Birthday and a belated welcome home party for him. But in the whole of the crowed, he could only pick out the faces of two people he wanted to be with. One was Leslie Thompkins, who was director of the Thomas Wayne Memorial Clinic, the other was his butler Alfred. Everyone else in the room was just a name. All be it a prominent name, in Gotham social circles, but none of them were his friends.
Bruce had been travelling the world for the last ten years, learning new skills to enable him to keep his vow to fight crime in Gotham. When he had been younger he had been accompanied by his butler come guardian Alfred Pennyworth, but in the last few years he had travelled alone, honing his fighting skills. Learning from the masters of the many Martial Arts from across the world.
Since returning home Bruce had become Batman, the vigilante who was now striking fear into the hearts of Gotham's criminal classes. But tonight, instead of being out on the streets stopping crime he had to put up with entertaining these people. It had taken Alfred weeks to convince his employer to host this party. He had only succeeded when he pointed out how advantageous it could be to Batman to have an understanding of Gotham society. Also it would be an opportunity to camouflage his identities. Just in case anyone put together the appearance of Batman on the streets with the return of Bruce Wayne. So Bruce was now giving the performance of his life as the amiable, rich, simpleton.
Bruce's act along with the allure of his wealth meant that hangers on and society debutantes, trying to gain a rich husband, quickly surrounded him. All claiming long lost, non-existent friendship with the boy billionaire.
Alfred kept Bruce supplied with small glasses of ginger ale. To the casual observer it appeared as if Mr. Wayne had a liking for whiskey.
"Smile sir, you are supposed to be a party animal." Alfred muttered into his ear as he handed Bruce a fresh drink.
Bruce just glared at the man, "Look at them Alfred, Gotham's young elite, it's no wonder this city is in such a mess. Most of them are just, rich, spoilt brats."
"I must admit, I did my best never to spoil you, sir!"
Alfred patted his master on the back as he choked on the fact his butler had just implied that he was a rich brat.
Bruce saw an amused twinkle in the older mans eyes, but his face never lost its serious expression.
"No you old fraud, you never spoiled me with materialistic things, but you were always there for me." Bruce said.
"Dr Leslie and I did our best sir, and I don't think you have been a disappointment to either of us."
Alfred had walked away before Bruce became too embarrassed.
Bruce went over to join Leslie. "Happy Birthday darling." the woman said smiling the first genuine smile Bruce had seen all night.
He hugged the woman tight, "It's only happy, because you came!" Bruce exclaimed.
"Why the hell Alfred talk me into having this party I'll never know."
"Because he want's Bruce Wayne to be happy and to have friends." Leslie said. "Oh Bruce, that's all he's ever wanted for you, it's all either of us ever wanted."
"I know," Bruce muttered, "and I am happy, in my own way."
Leslie looked at the young man who was the nearest thing she had to a son with sad eyes. "I wish that were true Bruce."
As the party progressed Bruce saw a group of young men becoming drunk and more troublesome. Peter Purvis seemed to be the leader of the group. Bruce remembered him from school, rich and totally arrogant as a child and it would appear he hadn't changed as he had got older. They were giving a young maid a rough ride. Bruce saw Alfred approach the group. He quietly spoke to the men and Bruce saw two of them hang their heads in shame at his friend's words.
As Bruce watched Alfred helped the young maid collect the glasses and he escorted her away from the group. Suddenly Purvis grabbed the butler by his arm and spun him around. Before Alfred could react Purvis punched him hard, knocking him down. "Wayne may let his staff tell him what to do, but servants don't talk to me like that!" the man snarled.
Shocked, Bruce ran over and grabbed Purvis as he was about to hit Alfred again. Dodging a punch Bruce wrestled the man out of the French windows. His blood was boiling, how dare this piece of excrement strike Alfred. Bruce was about to hit Purvis so hard he would knock him into next week when he was stopped by a crisp English voice.
"Master Bruce, it is not good manners to strike your guests! I trust I brought you up better than that."
Bruce looked at his friend in amazement. "You also taught me that a gentleman should respect those who serve him? This piece of slime needs to learn that lesson."
"Teaching this ..gentleman manners are not my concern! Thank goodness. A lack of manners reflects a father's inability to teach his son properly. Please, let him be sir."
Alfred was lent heavily against the door. Bruce went to the man's aid, as he started to walk away Purvis threw a punch. Bruce ducked underneath the blow and watched as the momentum of the man's movements caused him to fall into the pool. A group of guests were stood around the pool laughing at the man stood spluttering in the water.
"I want you and your uncouth friends off of my property, Purvis. No one treats my staff the way you think you can." Bruce saw Leslie helping Alfred towards the kitchen. "For all your money you're not fit to clean the shoes of the man you just attacked. Alfred was born a gentleman, it's taken you twenty-four years for you to progress to just above the caveman level. It's not your fault, it's probably in your genes!"
The crowd were laughing at Bruce's words, many of the more drunken party goes were muttering "Ugh, Ugh." to the man in the pool.
Bruce headed for the kitchen where he found Leslie checking Alfred over. "You'll probably have one hell of a black eye in the morning, you don't feel any dizziness or nausea?" Leslie asked. When he shook his head she smiled. "That's good. I really think you should call the police, Alfred. That was an unprovoked attack, he shouldn't be allowed to get away with it." Leslie handed the man an ice pack.
"Making an enemy of Mr. Purvis will not be to anyone's advantage." Alfred said. "Considering the path Master Bruce has chose he doesn't need to make enemies. Anyway there's no serious damage done, I'd best be getting back to check on the caters." Alfred said.
"Sit down!" Bruce ordered, his voice low with anger. "You're going to bed, to rest, no arguments."
Alfred raised an eyebrow and looked at his young employer sternly. "As I recall, Sir, the last time we had this argument, the boot was, so to speak, on the other foot. I am sure the information you gave me was that mere bruising was no reason for a grown man to take to his bed. That it was just a mild inconvenience. Now knowing how my employer feels about such a minor ailment, it would not look good if I were to take to my bed, now would it!" With that he carefully put the ice pack down and strolled out of the kitchen.
"He's got you there Bruce." Leslie smiled sadly at the young man. "I think that's what Alfred terms 'What's good for the goose is good for the gander.' In other words you're both as bad as each other."
Bruce watched as Alfred handed a thoroughly soaked Peter Purvis his coat. The man just snatched it out of the butler's hand and stormed out of the house with his friends following. Bruce's scowl lifted as he heard the jokes and comments being made at Purvis' expense.
He found the rest of the party quite enjoyable seeing as most people considered him something of a hero for the way he tackled the young thug.
Bruce woke to the sound of the shower running. Alfred drew back the bedroom curtains and then wished his master a cheerful good morning before placing his breakfast tray on the bed.
Bruce blinked trying to focus on his friend face, but the man remained standing with light behind him.
"How are you this morning, Alfred?"
"Just fine Sir. I will lay your clothes out, then if you have no objection sir I will get off to the clinic as Thursday is my day to help out there."
"That's fine Alfred, will you be back for lunch or are you taking Leslie out?"
"I think sir, we may come back to the Manor for lunch today."
Bruce caught sight of Alfred's heavily bruised face, and winced.
"I don't think it would do Leslie's reputation any good, to be seen out with someone who looks like he's been in a pub brawl." Alfred commented.
"You're sure you're OK Alfred?"
"In the pink, ..purple, blue and yellow it would seem sir! But quite fit I assure you."
Bruce half smiled at his friend's black humour. "Ok Alfred, if you're sure you're all right. I've got some business reports to read, then I may just workout in the cave for the rest of the morning."
"Very good sir, I will call you when lunch is ready."
By eleven o'clock Bruce had completed reading the business reports. He was about to head off to the cave when the phone rang.
"Wayne Manor!" Bruce said.
"Bruce darling is that you?" asked the fairly harassed voice off Leslie Thompkins. "I was wondering if I could speak to Alfred? I was a little surprised that he didn't call to let me know he wouldn't be in today! I quite understand that he may not feel up to helping, but a phone call would have been nice." It was obvious from her tone that she was quite annoyed at her friend's lack of consideration.
"But I don't understand Leslie, Alfred should be there with you. He left for the clinic over two hours ago." Bruce said puzzled.
Bruce heard Leslie speak to her assistant. After a moment she was back on the line. "His cars not here Bruce. May be he's broken down."
"Hardly likely, he can fix most faults in ten minutes flat and anyway he has that new cell phone on him." Bruce's face lit up. "I'll give him a call and see where he is."
"Let me know as soon as you have any news Bruce." Leslie sounded worried.
"Bruce auto-dialled Alfred's number, the phone was switched on but no one answered. Bruce was beginning to worry." He called Leslie back at the clinic, she too must be worried because she answered the phone on the first ring.
"He's not answering his phone!" Bruce said trying, but not succeeding, in keeping the concern out of his voice.
"Was he all right when he left you? No dizziness, slurred speech or headaches? Could he walk in a straight line?" Leslie asked.
Bruce had to admit he wasn't sure as he'd still been in bed when Alfred left. He heard Leslie sigh angrily, "He seemed ok, he'd made breakfast and he'd cleaned up before he left." Bruce defended himself.
"I'm sorry dear, I am just a little worried." Leslie whispered "What with him getting hit like that. I should have stayed at the Manor last night and made sure he was ok."
"Look, I'll drive over to the clinic, that way I can make sure he hasn't broken down or been in a minor accident." Bruce said.
The road from Wayne Manor to Gotham passed through some of the most scenic areas in the county. Several places along the route had lay by and picnic areas. Bruce pulled into each one to check if Alfred was there. It was in one of these areas that Bruce found the burnt out remains of Alfred's car.
At first Bruce was sat as if glued to his seat. All he could do was stare at the smouldering wreckage unable to believe what he was seeing. Eventually he managed, to get out of his own car and approach the drivers side of the wreck. As he got nearer he felt a surge of relief when he failed to see a body in the car.
Looking closely at the scene Bruce realised that this had all the hallmarks of several recent robberies in the area. In each case the victims had been locked in the trunk of their cars. On the last occasion the car had been found burnt out with the body of the driver in the trunk. Bruce swallowed the lump in his throat. He removed a tire iron from his own car and feeling a sense of overwhelming dread forced the car's trunk open. Recoiling back from the expected sight of his dead friend, he collapsed with a mixture of shock and relief to discover the car's trunk to be empty.
Bruce could hear a phone ringing. Looking around he spotted a phone booth near the restroom. Sprinting over to it he answered the call.
"Hello, Mr. Wayne" a muffled voice said. "Not been able to find what you were looking for? That could be because we are keeping your goods safe. It seems you're rather attached to your servants, particularly your butler. More like a father than an employee isn't he? Well how much is his safe return worth to you? We thought five million would be a suitable sum. We'll contact you at 18:00 hours with delivery instructions. In the meantime get the money organised, used bills, low denominations." Bruce was look around, whoever was making the call had to be able to see him. It was likely that they were using Alfred's cell phone.
"How do I know Alfred's all right?" Bruce asked, anger and fear waging war inside him.
"You'll just have to take my word as a gentleman for it."
Bruce heard voices laughing. Then the receiver was slammed down.
Shaking from a mixture of anger and fear Bruce headed back to the car. He removed a small case from the trunk and using the content of his forensic kit he combed the area for clues. He found fresh tyre track and traces of blood. He photographed each and took a sample of the blood. When he was sure the site could give him no more clues he headed down to central Gotham first of all to arrange for the five million ransom, then to tell Leslie that their friend had been kidnapped.
Bruce was holding a tearful Leslie close. "But why Alfred, the other people who were robbed were rich? Why pick on Alfred, he hasn't got a lot of money and he wasn't driving a flash car, was he?"
Bruce considered her words. No Alfred had been driving his old Ford. All the other robbery victims had been driving large expensive cars. So why had they chosen Alfred for a victim and how would robbers know that he was more to Bruce than a simple employee. Then there was the question why would Alfred have left the highway so close to home.
"He'll be OK, won't he Bruce? You will pay the ransom?"
"Of course I'll pay Leslie, the moneys not the problem. But there's no guarantee that they won't just kill him as soon as we pay up. He could be dead already." Bruce said quietly. He regretted his words as soon as he'd spoken them when he felt Leslie start to tremble.
"He's not dead Bruce, he can't be I feel sure he's alive. He's got to be."
Bruce contacted Captain Jim Gordon of the Gotham Police and reported the disappearance of his butler. It was two hours later that Gordon appeared at the door of Wayne Manor to report the fact that Alfred's burnt out car had been found and that there were signs of a struggle and blood at the scene. But as to what had happened to Alfred they weren't sure. They were unsure whose blood it was so the young man shouldn't panic. Bruce already knew that the blood was Alfred's. Bruce and Leslie gave their statements to the police. Then Bruce solicited Gordon's opinion on what may have happened. As he hoped for he was given details of the previous cases.
"All of those questioned reported that they had been forced to stop by a Highway Patrol officer. Once they had stopped masked men armed with guns had entered the car and forced the driver to drive to a secluded spot. There they would be robbed and forced into the trunk of the car. The last victim had died when the car caught fire. The official police line was the fire had been an accident." Gordon told them.
"Accident" Sargent Bullock muttered sarcastically. "The guy recognised his assailant and they killed him. You need to pray that's not what's happened to you butler, otherwise you'll need to be looking for new help. And good help's not easy to find now days or so they say."
Gordon saw Bruce's jaw tense and tear form in Leslie's eyes. "Thank you Sargent, why don't you radio in and check if there's any fresh news." Bullock left the house. "I am sorry, I know how much Alfred means to you both." Gordon said taking Leslie's hand. He looked across at Bruce. "Is there anything else you know that may help us?"
Bruce shook his head.
"You must have some idea who you're looking for!" Bruce said.
"Statement indicate that five men are involved, all medium height, medium build no distinguishing marks, young, early to late twenties. All well spoken. That's all we have Bruce, as soon as we know more we'll be in touch. In the mean time if you think of anything that may help us let us know." With that Gordon left.
"Why didn't you tell him about the ransom demand!" Leslie asked, her anger clear in her voice.
"Because I don't want anyone blundering around, getting Alfred killed. I can take care of this!"
"Who will be saving Alfred, Bruce Wayne or Batman?"
"Both!" Bruce muttered.
"And if, God forbid, the worst happens and we lose Alfred, who will be taking the blame. Will Bruce Wayne be able survive that eventuality?"
"We won't lose him, I won't let anything happen to Alfred!"
Leslie followed Bruce down to the cave. "Well how do we go about finding Alfred?"
"We, there's no we, in this Leslie I'll find Alfred, I don't want you involved."
"I am involved Bruce, and if you try and stop me helping I'll be on the phone to Captain Gordon to tell him Bruce Wayne is holding out on him!"
Bruce glared at his friend.
"Alfred means just as much to me as he does to you Bruce. You don't have the monopoly on caring about him."
The couple spent a good three minutes staring angrily at each other. Finally Bruce relented. "I drop the money off with tracking devices fitted. I'll have the Batmobile trailing me at a safe distance. Once the drop's made then I use the Batmobile to follow the money to Alfred. When I know where he is then you contact the police, anonymously from the cave, then I'll go in and make sure he's safe."
"So you're expecting me to sit here and wait. No way, I am coming with you. If Alfred's hurt you'll need a doctor on hand."
"No way Leslie, Alfred will be furious if I put you in danger. He'll kill me if anything happens to you. I am not willing to take that risk. I need you here monitoring the tracking devices from the main satellite links. It'll be your job to provide me with information if I lose the mobile link and to keep me up to date with what the police are up to. It's what Alfred would be doing if this were any other case. Plus I don't need to be worrying about you as well."
Leslie sighed deeply. "All right, show me what I need to do."
By 5 o'clock Leslie was proficient enough with the radio and satellite navigation system to keep Batman up to date with the information he would need. They both headed toward the kitchen for tea. It was only when they entered the pristine, empty room that both of them were hit by a profound sense of loss. Bruce couldn't ever remember entering the kitchen and not finding Alfred or at least signs that he was around. He remember coming home from school to cosy tea's. As a young boy, sitting on his friend's knee near the fire while Alfred listened to him reading. And more recently the pair of them working on plans for the Batmobile at the kitchen table. He looked across at Leslie, she too seemed to be lost in her own memories of this room and the man who brought it to life. She had taken Alfred apron off the hook next to the door, but instead of putting it on she sat down on Alfred's favourite chair and hugged it to her.
Bruce busied himself making tea and getting cake out of the pantry. As he removed the last slice of fruitcake from the tin he felt a surge of intense rage towards who ever had taken his friend. His vow never to take another life was one he would happily forsake if they had hurt Alfred. This was personal, Alfred was his family and he wasn't going to stand by and let another two-bit lowlife steal his family again. He heard Leslie gasp, looking over his shoulder he saw the woman's horrified face staring at him. Her eyes were focused on his hands. Bruce looked down and saw that the tin he had been holding had been crushed like so much aluminium foil, blood was dripping from a cut on his left palm.
Bruce walked past Leslie, dropped the tin into the trash, and then cleaned the cut under the faucet. Leslie applied a Band-Aid to the cut. "Bruce are you sure you're detached enough to do this? Maybe it would be better to let the police handle it!"
"I can do this better than any police force Leslie."
She looked at him concerned, but refrained from asking any more questions.
"We need to be heading back to the cave. I want to record the call. Bruce picked up the cups of tea and placed them and the plate of cakes on a tray.
At exactly 18:00 the call came through.
Bruce was seated at the computer with a trace and record subroutine set up. On the second ring Bruce pressed the button to the speakerphone.
"Bruce Wayne." he said using the voice of his public persona.
"Are you willing to pay for the return of your goods, Mr. Wayne? The goods are slightly damaged but not past repair."
Bruce felt Leslie's hand grip his shoulder in a reflex action. "I want to make sure of that for myself."
"Sorry, you'll just have to take my word for it!" was the reply.
"Then the deal's off because your words not good enough." With that Bruce ended the call.
Shocked Leslie pulled Bruce around to face her. "Bruce what did you just do? What if they don't call back. What if they kill him?"
"What if he's already dead?" Bruce asked his eyes full of intense pain. "I need to know now; I cannot stand not knowing."
They stared at each other for a few minutes, each seeing a reflection of their own pain and fear in the others face.
The phone rang again. Bruce pressed the button on the console. "Master Bruce." said a slightly slurred English voice.
"Alfred, are you all right. What have they done to you?" Bruce asked elation at the fact his friend was alive mixed with fear that he sounded ill. He could feel Leslie gripping his arm.
Another voice broke in, "Your friend just took a bit of a beating when he tried to escape. Nothing serious, just a few slaps."
Bruce's hand convulsively closed on the pen he was holding snapping it in two. He quietly vowed to dish out a few slaps in return.
"Down to business Wayne. You drive to the Westbury Drive Bridge, the one over the railroad. You throw the money over the bridge in garden waste sacks. Then you drive off. No funny stuff otherwise your friend is history. Is that understood."
"When do you let Alfred go." Bruce asked.
"As soon as we're happy that you've done exactly what we asked you to do. You've got your instructions. The ball is now in your court."
Bruce had the money packed to four double strength waste sacks each one containing a tracking device hidden in one of the bundles of notes. He loaded the money into the back of his Red Mustang.
"Bruce are you sure I shouldn't be with you? Alfred didn't sound too good. I could ride along in the Batmobile."
Bruce shook his head. "I need you here Leslie! Just in case I lose the signal. If anything goes wrong you contact the police and give the location from the satellite navigation system. You're Alfred's insurance."
Leslie looked at the young man as he set off in the Car. "Bruce take care, I want you both back safe and sound!"
As the mustang left the manor gates deep within the Batcave the Batmobile fired into life and using autodrive followed a mile behind Bruce Wayne's car.
The Westbury Drive Bridge was a good choice for paying over the ransom as far, as the kidnappers were concerned. It was dark and secluded. Bruce peered down to the railroad beneath the bridge, but he couldn't see anyone. At exactly 11PM he dropped the bags over the parapet. He waited another couple of minutes then drove off back towards the Manor, as if returning home. Once he was sure he wasn't being followed he stopped the car. Ordered the Batmobile to his location and quickly pulled off his outer clothing to revealed his Batsuite. Removing his cape and cowl from the seat of the Batmobile he completed his transformation into Batman.
Climbing into the Batmobile he contacted Leslie.
"The money has started moving Bru..Batman. It's moving at walking pace towards the road at the side of the railroad track. All signals coming in strong."
Bruce adjusted the mobile tracking unit and was soon watching the reassuring signals overlaid on a map of the area. They were moving south towards the old dock area of the city. "Looks like they've transferred the money to a vehicle and they're heading east. Keep watching Doc."
The streets around the old docks were covered in litter. The buildings were in the last stages of terminal decay. This once thriving area of Gotham was now a ghost town, inhabited only by vermin of both the two and four-legged verity. The gentle roar of the Batmobile's powerful engine disturbed both types of rats sending them scurrying for cover.
Batman had kept a safe distance behind the target vehicle. "They seem to have stopped. The signals now moving at a much slower pace." Leslie informed him. "This can't be right it's stopped in the water."
"Boat." Batman muttered as he parked the Batmobile behind an old warehouse. "There's lot's of old abandoned boats along here. I've activated my homing signal, have you got it on your screen," when he was sure Leslie had he continued, "let me know when my signal lines up with that of the money."
Batman stealthily crept down the side of the wharf. Several times he disturbed rats feeding on the rubbish that littered the rotting boards. The squeaked uneasily and scuttled away.
"Batman, you're level with the other signals," Leslie whispered.
Bruce surveyed the old freighter in front of him. Seeing no one on the deck he moved with catlike steps towards the light coming from the hatch leading to the forward cabins. No one was on guard outside. Bruce could hear the rumblings of an argument. As he got closer he could make out the words.
"We've got the money, we hand him back. No one said anything to me about killing anyone."
"What if he's recognised us a deeper voice asked. He nearly had my mask off."
"But he didn't. We're not murderers! All we've done is rob a few rich guys, just for kicks. Ok so we've just done Wayne out of a few million but he can afford the loss. But I draw the line at cold-blooded murder. I don't intend killing anyone or being an accessory to murder."
The man stood in the far corner suddenly stepped into the light. He wasn't wearing a mask, Batman was stood looking at Peter Purvis. "You're already accessories to murder, remember the guy who died in the fire, well that's down to us! Or had you forgotten?"
The four other men in the room turned towards Purvis. "That was an accident, you said it was an accident!"
"He saw me without my mask! We couldn't let him go. So I cut the fuel line and tossed in a match."
The other four men looked on in horror." Look it doesn't matter if it's one murder or two the punishments just the same. I want this guy dead, he had not right to talk to me like he did and besides what better way to make Wayne suffer than to kill his friend."
Batman moved his position slightly. He could now see a figure slumped in a chair. He was held there by ropes and looked pretty badly beaten. Purvis drew a knife from his belt, and headed towards Alfred.
Batman fingered the smoke pellets in his hand. Kicking the door open he tossed them into the middle of the group of men. As the cloud of smoke enveloped them Batman set to work. With a series of swift kicks he disabled two of the men. Two more fled the scene. Batman let them go. He knew exactly who they were and where to find them. He wanted Purvis. He wanted to hurt him so bad.
Batman position himself between Alfred and Purvis. With lightening quick slashes of the wicked looking knife, the man tried to intimidate Batman. Narrowing his eyes Batman watched the man's movements. With a swift kick he sent the knife flying out of Purvis' hand. Two more kicks and the man was sprawled on the floor. Grabbing the man by his shirtfront Batman repeatedly pounded his fist into the man's face. He took great satisfaction in feeling the man's nose break as he struck another blow.
"No, this is not what Batman stands for!" a slurred voice muttered, "For Goodness sake son, don't become as low as them."
Bruce whirled around, his gauntlet bloodied and his eyes wild. As he stared at the barely conscious man in the chair his eyes lost their wild look.
He let go of his victim and quickly untied his friend. Gently he helped him over to an unmade cot. Helping him to lie down Batman checked him over.
"It's nothing just a couple of cracked ribs and bruising. I may just take a couple of days in bed though to get over it. If my employer will agree. He doesn't tend to take this kind of injury seriously." the older man said in an attempt to lighten the mood.
Bruce tied up his captives then contacted Leslie.
"We need police and an ambulance at this location a.s.a.p. Doc."
"Our mutual friend is in need of some TLC but otherwise he's ok."
"You're going to have to wait for the police Alfred, I can't stay because within minutes of them getting here I expect Gordon will be wanting to know why he wasn't informed of the ransom demand. I'll be close by until the police arrive."
The man on the cot gave a half smile, "Understood Batman and thank you for everything young man."
Hidden in the shadows Bruce watched as the kidnappers were led away. Purvis left in the ambulance under police escort. Bruce watched as the money was loaded into a security van and as Captain Gordon escorted Alfred to a waiting car.
Once satisfied his friend was safe he headed home.
Leslie was stood waiting for him on the front steps of Wayne Manor. Bruce had changed clothes and cars and was once again his public persona.
They had just enough time to put the Mustang away before the police cars could be seen heading up the drive.
Leslie helped Alfred to his room and checked him over. While Captain Gordon and Sargent Bullock interviewed Bruce Wayne.
After a tens twenty minutes both men left. Gordon's parting words still ringing in Bruce's ears. "We're the law in Gotham Mr. Wayne, not some costumed freak and don't you forget it. If I catch you holding out on me again I'll arrest you for conspiracy to pervert the cause of justice is that understood!"
Bruce just nodded. "Tell Alfred I'll take a fuller statement tomorrow afternoon." With that Gordon left slamming the door behind him.
Bruce headed for Alfred's room. Leslie was sat next to his bed talking to her friend. But why would five rich young men need to commit robberies? Peter Purvis' parents will be devastated, they are nice people Bruce. How come someone who has so much turns out so bad."
"Your guess is as good as mine, Leslie." Bruce muttered.
" My father had a saying he used to love to tell us children," Alfred said, "The Devil finds work for idle hands. This may well be the case here!"