CHAPTER EIGHT
JULY
The commissioner frowned at Batman. "I thought you said she could be trusted," he said accusingly.
"You really believe Catwoman is behind this new wave of burglaries?"
Gordon nodded. "It's her M.O. down to the ground. Rich people in high-rise apartments wake up and find a nice, neat hole cut in their windows, jewelry missing and the security systems still turned on. Just exactly like her pattern last time she was on the prowl."
"That was more than 18 months ago," Batman pointed out. "Since then she's been completely clean."
"I didn't want to believe it, either — for Barbara's sake if nothing else — but who else could it be?"
Batman frowned and said nothing.
"We've had Selina Kyle in for questioning," Gordon continued. "Naturally she swears she's innocent, but she can't produce an alibi for any of the times the burglaries occurred. We don't have enough to hold her, though. Forensics hasn't been able to find one single shred of physical evidence that links Catwoman to any of the crime sites."
Batman shook his head, still not wanting to believe it. "You've ruled out the idea of a copycat thief?"
"Not completely," admitted Gordon. "But there is one more piece of information that would seem to link it to her: most of the wealthiest people in town have been hit, even the ones who live in virtual fortresses. But there's one name conspicuously absent from the list."
"Bruce Wayne."
"Right. I admit it's just speculation, but Wayne's the richest man in Gotham City — and a close friend of Kyle's."
Batman nodded. "I'll talk to her," he promised non-committally.
"I am innocent, you know," she told him calmly.
Batman just looked at her.
Catwoman sighed, taking his expression to mean he didn't know. "I still have three and a half years to go on my probation. Believe me, the last thing I want to do is go back to jail. So why would I be stupid enough to risk everything now?"
"I don't know. But you believed you had good enough reason to turn to a life of crime before."
She turned away from him, making a disgusted sound halfway between a sigh and a hiss. The she faced him again.
"I did have good reason, and I'm not at all sorry for what I did," she told him unrepentantly. "These people who spray paint fur coats are missing the point completely. The rich slobs who wear them are just going to go out and buy another fur to replace the coat that got ruined, killing more animals in the process. My method had a lot more class. Not only did the people who sanctioned killing animals simply to use their skins as a status symbol get what they had coming to them, but I managed to get a 'donation' for saving the mountain lions. Now, don't you think that's a lot more intelligent than paint?"
"What it is, is a crime, Catwoman," he told her severely.
She shrugged. "Well, if you want to get technical. But I did give everything I stole to wildlife charities. If you'd check — "
"I did. There have been several large anonymous donations lately. The largest went to your mountain lion preserve."
"That still doesn't prove anything. I'm sure the donations don't come anywhere close to the amount that's been stolen. Obviously someone's been making a tidy profit and using these donations as a blind to try to frame me."
"Who would do that? And why?"
Catwoman snorted. "I have made a few enemies here and there. You should know something about that, Batman." She moved closer to him, peering up into his face. "You believe me, don't you?" she asked ingenuously.
Batman averted his face. "No," he answered softly. "I'm sorry, but I'm not entirely convinced you had nothing to do with this."
Catwoman stared at him in shock, hurt and anger mingling in her expression. With a sound like a low growl, she backed away from him, perching on the edge of the roof while she uncoiled her whip. She glared at him. "Thank you for your loyalty and friendship," she spat. "I'm touched. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find out who's been setting me up — with or without your help." She wound her cat o' nine tails around the leg of a stone gargoyle and swung herself off the building.
Batman watched her go, feeling like dirt. What's happened to us? he wondered. We used to trust each other. He had wanted to believe her. And she had seemed so sincere in protesting her innocence. But, he reminded himself, he had good reason to know what a talented liar she was.
Besides, it was only a few months ago he had had a painful lesson about people not being what they appeared. The sweetest, most innocent woman he'd ever known had turned out to be a psychotic killer.
Shaking his head sadly, he crossed slowly to the other side of the roof. He pointed his grappling gun at the supports of the heavy neon sign on top of the building next door and fired, briefly checking the security of the line before he swung out into the darkness.
It was two nights later.
He stood on another rooftop in another, ritzier part of town, his cape billowing out behind him in the wind, eyes searching the neighborhood for any signs of disturbance.
He was about to move on when a slight movement from the apartment across the street caught his eye. As he watched, a woman in a familiar grey and black costume emerged from the darkened window, clutching a small bag. Perched on her shoulder was a dark grey cat.
Batman hurriedly ducked out of sight, but not before she had spotted him.
She hurried down the fire escape, pausing when she reached the street to look back at his hiding place and blow a kiss in his direction.
With a feeling of bitter disappointment, he used his batline to lower himself to the pavement and started off in pursuit. He caught sight of her once, but lost her among the countless hiding places in the dark alleyway.
CHAPTER NINE
The intercom on Bruce Wayne's desk buzzed. He reached out and flipped a switch.
"Yes, Dana?"
His secretary's rich, Jamaican-accented voice came from the speaker. "Mr. Wayne, there's a Miss Kincaid here to see you. She doesn't have an appointment, but she says she knows you and it's an emergency."
Bruce thought a moment, trying to place the name. Then it hit him. "Wait a minute. Is that Maven Kincaid?"
There was a brief pause as Dana conferred with the visitor, then she answered in the affirmative.
"Send her in," he instructed, wondering what Selina's secretary wanted with him. He stood and walked toward her, extending his hand in a friendly gesture. "Maven, hello. What can I do for you?"
She stopped just inside the threshold, gazing around her in open-mouthed astonishment at the sheer size of the room. "All this for one office? Gosh. Oh, sorry," she said, catching hold of herself.
Her voice, as always, took him by surprise. In a way, it was as deep and raspy as Selina's, but where her employer sounded cool and elegant, Maven somehow managed an incongruous little girl squeak.
Bruce urged her to have a seat, offered coffee, played the gracious host. Then he noticed she wasn't responding, but just sitting there nervously twisting the end of her brown ponytail.
"What's wrong, Maven?" he asked with concern.
She looked up at him with troubled eyes. "I'm worried about Selina. Bruce — she's disappeared!"
He sat down heavily and stared at her across the huge desk. "Disappeared? What do you mean she's disappeared?"
"I haven't seen her in two days. The police showed up with an arrest warrant this morning, and they think she's run off. But I don't — I know she's in trouble, Bruce! And Isis is gone, too."
"Wait a minute. Calm down and start at the beginning."
Maven took a deep breath, and organized her chaotic thoughts into an ordered narrative, like the efficient professional secretary she was.
"When I got to work yesterday, Selina wasn't at the apartment. Normally I wouldn't think anything about it, just figure she'd gone out early. But the cats nearly took me down when I came in the door — screaming and howling and running around like maniacs. Their water dish was empty, and they hadn't been fed...and Selina would never go out without taking care of the cats first. And when I counted, there were only six of them. Isis was nowhere to be found."
Bruce frowned. "And Selina never came home at all yesterday?"
"No. And she missed an important meeting with her lawyer yesterday afternoon. I stayed late, and kept calling the apartment last night, but there was no answer. When I got there this morning, everything was exactly the same as yesterday. She hadn't been home at all."
"What happened with the police? I assume it's something thing to do with those burglaries I read about?" he asked innocently.
Maven nodded. "Yeah. She hasn't done anything, but it looks bad. They found grey cat hair at the scene of the last robbery, so they seem to think that proves she did it. And that loud-mouthed detective — the one with the toothpick — accused me of lying when I said I didn't know where she was. I thought he was going to arrest me for a minute."
Bruce gave her an understanding smile. "I know. Detective Bullock's company manners leave a little to be desired. Now, think, Maven. Are any of Selina's things missing? Clothing, makeup, whatever?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. Like I told the police, the only things missing are the Catwoman costume, her whip, and Isis."
He sat back, considering. His encounter with Catwoman in the alleyway had been night before last, and apparently she never made it home that night. His catching her in the act could have conceivably made her decide to disappear, but he knew all too well how difficult it would be to get anywhere in costume. And of Catwoman's few known allies, only Maven would be prepared to help her evade the law. She obviously knew nothing, however, which was odd in itself; she usually knew every move her employer made.
Of course, Selina could take care of herself, he told himself reassuringly, but what could have happened to her? Worried now in spite of himself, Bruce leaned forward and faced Maven squarely, knowing she didn't want blithe reassurances. "I'm glad you came to me, Maven. What can I do to help?"
"Oh." She looked blank for a second, then embarrassed. It was obvious she hadn't thought beyond sharing the burden with someone who cared about Selina Kyle as a person, not a wanted criminal.
"I don't really know," she admitted sheepishly. "Detectives, or — no. I don't suppose you know how to get in touch with Batman, do you?"
Bruce gave her a look she couldn't read. "I could try," he said.
CHAPTER TEN
That night, Batman and Robin investigated Selina's apartment. As their flashlights probed the dark interior, Robin made a gagging sound.
"Sheesh," he whispered. "I usually like art deco — within reason. But this is way too much!"
"We're conducting an investigation, Robin, not an interior decorating seminar," his partner reminded him sternly. He opened a desk drawer and began rifling through the contents. "I'll look out here, you search the other room."
"Right."
As Robin passed through the arched doorway into the bedroom, he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Reacting with lightning quick reflexes, he executed a graceful judo flip and had the intruder pinned on the floor before the heavy vase had a chance to make contact with his head.
"Ow!" protested a voice he was beginning to know all too well.
"I might have known," he said in a normal voice, letting her go.
Batgirl hauled herself to her feet, rubbing her sore behind. "Robin! You...you...!" she spluttered indignantly.
Robin grinned at her. "Y'know, you're awfully cute when you're mad, but we've really gotta stop meeting like this."
She gave him a sour look. "Jerk," she muttered.
They both looked up as a tall, dark shape appeared in the doorway.
"Uh...hi," stammered Batgirl. "What are you guys doing here?"
"Same thing you are," Batman answered tersely. "Trying to find Selina Kyle."
"Oh, so now you care?" the girl said nastily, before she could stop herself. She knew about his recent history with Catwoman, and was resentful for her friend's sake.
The look Batman gave her made her take a couple of involuntary steps backwards.
"Have you found anything?" he asked coldly.
Batgirl shook her head. "No. Nothing that shows where she might have gone by herself, and if she's been kidnapped it didn't happen here."
Meanwhile, Robin was busy searching through the drawers of the makeup table. "Hey," he interrupted, "what about the loot from those jewel robberies? Has anybody found that?"
Batgirl turned on him fiercely. "No! And if we had, it would be because somebody planted it. Catwoman's innocent."
"How do you know?" Batman asked gently. He was touched by her loyalty, but he couldn't forget the picture of the grey-clad figure blowing him a kiss as she escaped from the apartment she'd just burglarized.
"I just know, that's all," insisted Batgirl, setting her mouth in a stubborn line.
"Women's intuition?" scoffed Robin.
She scowled at him. "No. It's called loyalty to a friend. But I guess you wouldn't know about that, huh?" she snapped, with an accusing look at Batman.
"This is getting us nowhere," he growled, and headed back into the living room.
Batgirl started to follow, but Robin laid a restraining hand on her shoulder.
"Lay off," he told her softly. "Give the guy a break, will ya? You think this is easy for him? He cares about her."
"He's got a great way of proving it," she said, but the anger had gone out of her voice.
Robin shook his head. "Look, I have no idea what happened between those two, and neither do you," he scolded gently. "But even if they're not...involved anymore, I know Catwoman means a lot to him. And he feels guilty about her going back to her life of crime."
"She hasn't!" snapped Batgirl. Then, curiously, "Why would he feel guilty even if she had?"
He shrugged, hesitating. It was all speculation on his part, really, but knowing Bruce, he had a feeling his theory was the right one.
"It's just...well, I think Batman believes that if Catwoman gave up being a thief for him in the first place, then there's nothing to stop her from going back to it since he broke things off with her."
Batgirl stared at him in disbelief. "Oh, my..." she groaned. "There's absolutely no limit to the mighty male ego, is there? I'm not even going to justify that with an answer."
With that, she swept into the living room, followed by Robin. They were alone in the apartment, and Batgirl looked around in confusion.
"Where is he?"
In answer, Robin pointed out the terrace door, where the Bat signal lit up the sky. "Gotta go," he said briefly, reaching for the grappling gun on his belt.
"Can I come, too?" Batgirl asked plaintively as she watched the small hook launch itself toward the building across the street.
Robin gave her a brief frown of discouragement, then swung out on his batline.
She watched him disappear, then shrugged. "Well, he didn't say no," she said to herself, launching a line of her own.
When the pair caught up with Batman, he was already deep in conversation with Commissioner Gordon and Sarah Miller.
Seeing the newcomers, Gordon broke off to introduce them to the deputy commissioner (who was clearly not too happy to have to deal with not just one but three masked crimefighters) and give them a brief recap of the new case.
"As I was telling Batman, I just got a call saying Red Claw has escaped from federal prison and is thought to be in this area. She broke out nearly two weeks ago, and the blasted feds just now get around to warning us," he complained bitterly. "When I think of the trouble she caused last time! Held the whole city for ransom with the threat of a viral plague. If it hadn't been for Batman — "
"And Catwoman..." interrupted the Dark Knight in a low voice.
A few pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fit together in his mind. Catwoman did more to bring Red Claw down than I did, he thought. And if she's back in town wanting revenge, it could just be that Selina was telling the truth about being set up after all. Find one and we may find the other.
And if that was the case, finding Catwoman was now an even more urgent priority.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Batgirl was never sure how he did it, but within 24 hours Batman had the word out on the street that a fabulous collection of diamonds would be on display at the Gotham Museum for one day only.
What wasn't generally known was that one of the more spectacular pieces now contained a microscopic tracking device in the clasp. When the thief struck, as he was sure she would, it would be a simple matter for the three crimefighters to tail her wherever she went.
The plan was in place, and now all they could do was wait. Batgirl squirmed and readjusted her position, leaning back against the air-conditioning unit on the museum roof. She looked at her companions enviously. They seemed comfortable enough, but she was still getting used to this part of the job.
"Hey, don't you think she'll know it's a trap?" she whispered.
"Yes," Batman answered in the same tone. "That's why she won't be able to resist."
He sat with his back to the other two, scanning the horizon in every direction through a pair of high-powered binoculars.
Watching him, Robin gave voice to a question that had been bothering him ever since he heard the news of Red Claw's escape — and Batman's reaction to it.
"You think Catwoman really is innocent?" he asked. He saw his partner's shoulders tense.
"We'll know soon enough." Batman hesitated a split second, then added grimly, "I don't care if she's innocent or not; I just want her safe."
Robin and Batgirl exchanged a look. Rather than the "I told you so" she'd been expecting, she saw only concern in the young man's face.
Batman made an abrupt motion for silence as a slender grey form landed lightly on the edge of the roof. Unaware she was being watched, the woman took a small, diamond-tipped knife tipped knife from her boot and began to cut an opening in the skylight. The Dark Knight's eyes narrowed at the sight of the knife.
The Maltese cat she carried on her shoulder got down and began to prowl restlessly. Batgirl held her breath as it paused beside the air-conditioner, looking at the trio with questioning yellow eyes.
The silent whistle called it back to the other side of the roof and through the hole in the skylight. As the cat darted past her, Batgirl saw something that caused her to open her eyes wide and point at the retreating form. Before she could say anything, however, a green-gloved hand clamped itself over her mouth. She turned a ferocious glance on Robin but he merely grinned at her and put a finger to his lips as a reminder to her to keep her voice low.
"That's not Isis!" she whispered excitedly. "That cat's a boy."
"And that's not Catwoman," said Batman in a flat, quiet voice.
Although she longed to tell both of them "I told you she was innocent," something in Batman's expression made her check the impulse.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The tracking device in the diamond bracelet led the threesome to an abandoned fairground outside the city. There they found the cat, now wearing the bracelet as a collar, and exactly half the jewels, but a peremptory search of the grounds produced no sign of the CopyCat.
Batgirl was all for making a more thorough search, but Batman insisted it would be better to wait a bit, with the three of them keeping watch at strategic points around the park.
The "watch and wait" method paid off shortly when Robin spotted a figure moving quickly through the grounds. He alerted his partners, then stealthily followed Red Claw to a line of dilapidated circus cars. He watched her enter one decorated with faded renderings of lions and tigers, then sat back to wait for Batman.
Inside the trailer, unaware that she had been followed, Red Claw studied her "guests" with a smile of amusement.
Catwoman, tied securely to one of the interior bars of the cage, was admittedly not looking her best. Her mask was off, revealing a number of bruises and scratches on her usually beautiful face. A few strands of blonde hair clung to patches of dried blood. Capturing her had taken quite a fight, and two of the terrorist's henchmen still showed a few scars themselves.
Lying well within her sight, but tantalizingly out of reach, were her black, shoulder-length gloves. Gloves which contained a spring-loaded mechanism that worked the incredibly sharp diamond-tipped claws that had inflicted the scars, and were more than capable of cutting through rope.
In a small, decidedly unsanitary cage by her side, Isis meowed pitifully. She was a sensitive cat who had been raised in luxurious surroundings with copious doses of affection from not only Selina and Maven, but also the other cats, who regarded her as very much the queen of the household. Her treatment in their three days of captivity had been a shock to her system, and Isis had lost even more weight than her mistress.
Catwoman looked at her in concern, murmuring comforting sounds. When the crying stopped, she turned to Red Claw with a venomous look in her eyes.
"Oh, when I get my claws into you, you're definitely going to regret this," she threatened.
The terrorist merely laughed, knowing fully well her prisoner was powerless to act on her threats. "Don't worry, Kitty Cat," she said soothingly. "You and your pretty pet will soon be put out of your misery — and mine. My partner has ruined your reputation as thoroughly as you ruined mine, and in a very profitable way I might add. So you will have soon outlived your usefulness."
"Oh, let me guess: this is where the villain reveals the whole dastardly plot to the victim, right? You're such a cliché, Red Claw."
The woman narrowed her eyes. "I don't read spy novels, Ms. Kyle. I'm afraid you'll have to do without your exposition scene. Not to mention your momentous rescue."
"Don't count on it," said a deep voice from out of nowhere.
Red Claw looked up just in time to see a caped figure swoop down on her from the trap door in the ceiling. She barely had time to exclaim, "Batman!" before he snapped his handcuffs on her wrists and turned his attention toward freeing Catwoman.
"Are you all right?" he asked softly, as he pulled the last of the rope from her hands. There was something in his voice she had thought she would never hear again, but she ignored it.
"I'm fine," she answered shortly. She rubbed her aching wrists for a few seconds, then forgot her own discomforts as she concentrated on soothing her pet. Taking the cat into her arms, she murmured, "Isis, my precious, what have they done to you? Don't worry; you're safe now, my love."
Batman watched with disappointment but very little surprise, knowing both how important Isis was to her, and how angry she was with him.
Taking advantage of Batman's preoccupation with Catwoman, Red Claw seized the opportunity to try to escape. She sprinted for the door, but was immediately grabbed by Robin and Batgirl, who stood guard on either side.
"Oh, no you don't," Robin told her cheerfully.
She relaxed, and he made the mistake of loosening his grip just a tiny bit. Small as it was, it was enough for Red Claw. Without warning, she managed to turn slightly and plant a ferocious kick in Batgirl's face, sending her sprawling. She wrenched herself free of Robin's grasp when he turned to make sure the girl was okay.
"Nice going," he snarled at Batgirl, who sat on the ground, holding her injured jaw and sniffling. Furious with her, but even angrier at himself, he tore the batarang and line from his belt and threw it at the escaping terrorist.
Luckily Red Claw was no longer in top physical condition after her time in prison, and her bound hands were seriously affecting her balance. Robin's line caught her around the ankles, and she toppled forward, landing ungracefully on her face.
He trussed her up more securely, then turned back to look at Batgirl. "I'll stay here and keep an eye on this baggage, and you better go let the police know what's going on," he ordered.
She wiped her eyes and nodded, still sniffling. As she passed him, she felt a hand touch her on the sleeve. She turned to find Robin smiling at her, a friendlier expression in his eyes.
"Cheer up. I'm sorry I yelled at you; it was more my fault than yours," he admitted. Then he added with a facetious grin, "Come on, now. Big Batgirls don't cry!"
Inside, after making sure his young partners had the situation in hand, Batman turned his full attention to Catwoman.
She continued to ignore him, still cooing to the cat, as he fumbled with apologies.
"Catwoman," he began hoarsely. "Selina...I'm sorry. I was wrong. About everything."
She flashed him a decidedly unfriendly look, but said nothing. She was one cat who believed in holding a grudge.
"I'm sorry I doubted you," he continued. "I should have trusted you, believed you when you said you were being set up. I was wrong about you being guilty."
"Yes. You were."
Gently, he touched her hand. "That's not all," he told her haltingly, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I was wrong when I said I didn't care about you the same way I used to. I thought it was true, but...." He let his words trail off, shaking his head.
Her expression softened as she realised what he was trying to say to her. Putting Isis down gently, she moved closer to him and peered up into his face.
"Are you actually trying to say you love me, Batman?"
He nodded slowly. "Always."
Batgirl and Robin returned, congratulating themselves on a job well done. In the doorway of the trailer, they pulled up short.
Batman and Catwoman were wrapped in each other's arms, kissing passionately but with great tenderness.
Robin backed out quickly, pulling Batgirl after him. "Let's get out of here," he whispered.
She nodded and followed him through the fairgrounds, avoiding the flashing red and blue lights of the police cars, until they stood in front of the Batcycle.
"You were right about him," admitted Batgirl. "I guess he does care."
Robin shrugged. "Batman's not a great one for showing his feelings, but I finally figured out that that doesn't mean he doesn't have them. Anyway, you were right, too. About her. You were the only one of us who was."
She gave him a self-satisfied little smile and said nothing.
He took the helmet from the handlebars and offered it to her. "Can I give you a lift someplace?"
"Ummm, McAllen Park, I guess. I can get home from there."
Retrieving the Batcycle's spare helmet from the storage area beneath the seat, Robin put it on and straddled the bike, looking at Batgirl expectantly. "Hop on."
She climbed on behind him and linked her arms around his waist, suddenly glad of his company now that all this was over. And she sensed he was happy she was around, too.
*****
When Batman returned home in the small hours of the morning, Alfred, looking proper and distinguished even in robe and pajamas, was there in the Batcave to meet him.
The Dark Knight climbed slowly out of the Batmobile and made his way across the chamber, leaning wearily over the chair at his computer console.
"Robin tell you what happened?"
The butler gave a prim little nod. "Yes, sir. I am relieved Miss Selina is all right."
"That's not what I was talking about, Alfred," Batman responded, without looking at him.
Alfred sighed. "Master Dick did indeed inform me of the incident to which you're referring, Master Bruce. And if you'll permit me, sir, it fails to come as a complete surprise."
Batman chuckled softly, but it wasn't a happy sound. "Well, it surprised me. I talked myself into believing that everything I felt for Selina was just friendship and attraction," he said, fingers clenching and unclenching on the back of the chair. "But it's just not true. I've been in love with her since I met her, and I still am."
"Yes, sir."
He reached up to remove the black cowl, stood twisting it in his hands. "I've been walking around like a dead man all year. Numb. Not feeling anything. And it's like she's brought me back to life, Alfred."
"Indeed, sir. I fancied I had detected a certain lightening of the spirits due to Ms. Kyle's presence. A welcome change, if I may say so, Master Bruce."
But Bruce wasn't ready to be cheered up. He was still too busy torturing himself about the pain his behaviour had caused her. She had given Bruce Wayne her friendship and understanding when he was hurting, and had offered Batman nothing short of unconditional love — even without any promise of a real relationship — and he had repaid her with distrust and betrayal.
Angrily, he hurled the mask onto the console. "Now the whole thing starts all over again," he said bitterly. "A menage a trois for two. She'll got on thinking of Bruce as her best friend and Batman as the man she loves, without ever knowing we're the same person. That can't be good for her. Of course, knowing my identity didn't exactly help Andrea, did it? It's like loving me is a guaranteed invitation to misery."
Alfred pursed his lips, disapproving of the self-pity he heard. He had raised Master Bruce from the time he was born, and almost every day he had to decide between letting his moodiness run its course or giving him the stern talking-to he often needed.
This time he chose the former. "There are those of us who find the cost not prohibitive," he reminded him.
