~~ Chapter 3 ~~
As Matt regained his lookout spot on the warehouse roof, he was momentarily startled to see Nightwing keep going. Then he realized the younger man had spotted the drug sellers and was getting in position to shadow them. The more he got to know Dick Grayson, the more impressed he was. In many ways, he reminded Matt of Peter Parker - otherwise known as Spider-Man. Both tended to use humor to disguise their serious attitudes toward crime fighting.
Matt had heard Dick's mouth going non-stop during the fighting with Monty's men, and he had sometimes been hard-pressed to keep from laughing out loud at the wisecracks. And now this same comedian assessed the situation and Matt's position, and he took up the logical, tactical position as casually as he had walked into Matt's office that afternoon.
Fortunato's men arrived in front of the warehouse just as an SUV carrying what Matt presumed to be the drug sellers turned the corner. Seconds later, the vehicle pulled to a stop, and two bodyguards stepped out, followed by a short, round man. Matt heard them confirming the deal; even better, he heard the same voices coming through the speakers of the police's surveillance post. He waited for the main buyer - Fortunato, presumably - to produce the money, which would be the best time to make his move, but Fortunato pulled out a cell phone instead. Matt muttered curses under his breath, and he heard similar curses coming from both the police and Nightwing. Unlike everyone else though, Nightwing immediately took action.
"Babs, do you have my position?" Matt heard Dick whisper hurriedly.
"I've got you, Former Boy Wonder. What'cha need?" Barbara replied.
"Quick, scan for a cell phone call in my vicinity. It may be scrambled."
As Matt listened to Fortunato set up the electronic payment, Matt wondered what Barbara could do that the now vociferously complaining police could not. The police were able to hear the conversation between the suppliers and the gang, but their equipment was not sensitive enough to catch the phone conversation, at least without exposing their position. Matt heard Barbara mutter under her breath for a few seconds.
"Got it!" she exclaimed.
"Great!" responded Dick. "Can you see that the cops in the building below me get this?"
"Sure. Hang on a sec."
Matt then heard a slightly delayed version of the transaction coming out of the police's speakers. The police stopped cursing. He grinned and looked over at Dick.
Dick stared back and asked quietly, "So, did it work?" Matt gave Dick a "thumbs-up," and Dick responded with a grin of his own. Dick said to Barbara, "They got it. Great work, sweetheart! Thanks a bunch!"
"You're welcome. Looks like a bunch of police headed your way. You two be careful!"
"We will, sweetheart. I'll see you soon - looks like we've got some street cleaning to do first."
"Bye."
Seconds later, the deal was finished, and the two groups began to disperse. Matt swung down on Fortunato's men and saw that Dick had done the same with the dealers. Matt heard the surveillance unit give the signal for the police to close in, so he knew they only had to keep the situation contained for a few minutes. Four explosive noises worried him until he realized that Nightwing had somehow caused the SUV's tires to blow, which would keep the dealers from leaving that way.
Matt laid into one henchman with a roundhouse punch and then took out another with a sidekick. He then had to worry about trying to keep from laughing as Dick began complaining at the lack of "witty banter."
"Y'know, I expected more of you New York City types," Matt heard him say as Dick did a handstand, wrapped his legs around his opponent's neck, and threw him to the ground. Dick continued, without missing a beat, "If I wanted plain grunts and groans, I could've stayed in Bludhaven." *Wham* A leaping kick to another victim's chest. "I mean, you've got Broadway and Saturday Night Live, for Pete's sake! This is just not acceptable!"
By this time, Dick had taken out the supplier and his men and was assisting Matt with Fortunato's men. Matt continued methodically working his way through the melee when he heard a cheerful, "Incoming!"
Nightwing had - somehow - launched one of the smaller thugs through the air like a missile squarely at Matt's position. Matt quickly grabbed his opponent's wrist and ankle and flung him toward the airborne man. The two crashed into each other and dropped like stones.
Dick yelled, "I don't suppose I could talk you into to trying out for the Knights, could I? They've needed a clean-up hitter for the longest time!"
"Sorry," replied Matt. "I'm a Mets fan, myself."
"Oh, well," Dick responded. There were now only three men left standing. The sirens were now clearly audible. The three looked at Matt and Nightwing and each other. They then sat down on the ground with their hands on their heads. The police arrived shortly thereafter and took everyone into custody. In the confusion, Nightwing managed to slip away back to the warehouse roof. After Matt had given a statement, he joined the younger man. Dick was still grinning.
"Well, that was certainly a lot of fun! Thanks for inviting me. I always like to get practice fighting large groups of people."
" 'I've been specializing in groups; battling gangs for local charities, that kind of thing. You use different moves when you're fighting half-a-dozen people than when you only have to be worried about one,' " Matt quoted almost subconsciously.
"Princess Bride, right?" Dick said, in delight. "I wouldn't have thought you'd ... watch movies."
Matt cleared his throat in a combination of regret and embarrassment. "It was my ... girlfriend's favorite movie. She especially liked to watch it while I was ... out each night." When Matt had asked Karen why she liked the movie so much, she told him that it reminded her to have faith in Matt and in their love. Too bad her faith had not been enough to keep her alive when Bullseye ... Matt deliberately shut off that train of thought.
Dick, showing an unexpected perceptiveness, asked no more questions about Princess Bride. "I guess I'll call it a night," he said. "Why don't you come over in the morning, and we can discuss Babs' information over breakfast?"
"That sounds fine."
"Great! It's 666 Fifth Avenue - the penthouse. Say around 8:30?"
"I'll be there," Matt replied.
Dick waved goodbye and then jumped off the roof. Before Matt could become too concerned, he detected Dick's jumpline go out to a neighboring building, and the vigilante swung off into the night. Matt sat on the roof a little longer. It had been a while since he had seen Sister Maggie. Maybe it was time for a visit.
~~~~~~~~~~
As Matt followed a yawning Dick Grayson into the luxurious penthouse apartment the next morning, delicious smells drifted out to bombard his senses and remind him he had not eaten much dinner the previous evening. Dick led him back to a small breakfast nook where Barbara setting the table.
"Dick, could you get the glasses down for me?" she asked before rotating around to smile a welcome at Matt. "Good morning, Matt! I hope you brought an appetite because I think Dick and I got a little carried away with our waffle-making."
"You want coffee, juice, milk, or some combination?" asked Dick, as he got the glasses and walked over to the refrigerator. "I'm figurin' on having milk with my waffles and then finish with coffee. Babs has juice and coffee."
"I think I'll have milk and then coffee, please."
"No problemo."
Breakfast was a cheerful affair, with both Dick and Matt eating lots of the buttery-rich waffles and crisp bacon (Barbara had one waffle and complained about the differences between men's and women's metabolisms). By common consent, conversation was kept light and amusing, with the three of them trying to come up with the best "stupid criminal" story. Finally, Barbara poured coffee for the two men and refreshed her own cup. Dick cleared the dishes from the table and loaded the dishwasher.
"Let's go in the study, where it's more comfortable," Dick said, picking up his and Barbara's cups and motioning for Matt to follow them. They went down the hall to a room that was filled with bookcases. The slightly musty smell of old books filled the room. Matt noticed that in addition to a stereotypically large heavy desk, the room also had a small conference table around which were placed several parsons chairs. A laptop computer sat on one end, and there were a number of papers scattered about. Barbara rolled over to the table where the laptop was, and Dick sat at her right and motioned for Matt to take the seat on the other side of the table at her left.
Barbara began the briefing. "Matt, as Dick told you last night, I now have lots of facts, but nothing that ties them together. My search programs can tie any two of the three victims together in lots of ways, but nothing that combines all three. Just as an example, victims 1 and 2 were part of a sex chat room, but 3 wasn't. Likewise, victims 1 and 3 were on the same Star Trek mailing list, and 2 and 3 were on the same X-Files list."
"So Victim #1 liked sex and Star Trek, #2 liked sex and X-Files, and #3 liked Star Trek and X-Files, but not sex?" commented Dick with a sour grin.
"You got it, Short Pants. It's like that on everything I've checked! Two of them were white; one was black. One was Catholic, one was Protestant, and one was a Scientologist." She sighed.
"Okay, let's start at the beginning," Dick said. "Give us name, date-of-birth, etc."
"All right. Victim #1 was Christopher Joseph McIntyre. White. Born 10/25/66 in Buffalo, New York. Victim #2 was Marcus Obadiah Harrison. Black. Born 6/15/75 in Brooklyn, New York. Victim #3: Theodore David Munroe. White. Born 4/21/68 in San Diego, California."
"California?" asked Matt in surprise.
"Yep. At the ... Naval hospital there," Barbara confirmed, looking at her laptop. "That's the kind of thing I was telling you about - two born in New York, one in California."
Dick sat in thought for a moment. "Hmm. Naval hospital in 1968? Was his father in Vietnam?"
Barbara appeared startled and then typed on her keyboard. After a minute or so, she replied, "Yeah. Navy Lieutenant Theodore James Munroe is on the birth certificate." She typed further. "Okay, Theodore James Munroe served in the Navy from 1966 until he retired as a Captain in 1987."
"What about ..." Dick and Matt said almost simultaneously. Dick laughed and motioned for Matt to proceed.
"What about the other two? Did their fathers serve?" Matt asked, smiling as well.
Barbara frowned and typed. She paused occasionally to stare at something on the screen and then typed some more. Matt could hear her heart rate accelerate as she found something that interested her.
"Well, well, well!" she exclaimed. "This is very interesting. Not only did our other two victims' fathers serve in Vietnam, but they were even in the same unit - SEAL Team One, Squad C - from 1967 through 1971. Anyone want to place bets that this is sheer coincidence?"
"SEALs?" exclaimed Dick.
"Yep. Chief Petty Officer Collin McIntyre and Petty Officer Second Class Jeremiah Harrison. McIntyre left the Navy in 1971 and Harrison retired in 1992."
"Just out of idle curiosity, should you be able to access that information?" Matt wondered.
Barbara looked away from her computer to grin at him. "What information, Counselor?"
Simultaneously, Dick said, "She could tell you, but then she'd have to kill you. That would get bloodstains all over the carpet, and Alfred would blame me. Don't do it, man!"
Matt laughed along with the other two. He stopped when he realized Dick had stopped laughing and was sitting with a peculiar expression on his face. "Dick?"
"Based on this, I think we all agree that the SEAL team is the connection between the victims, right? Which means that it really may be just a coincidence that all three were cops. Babs, have any of the other team members had sons that turned up unusually dead recently?"
Barbara looked as surprised as Matt felt. She immediately turned back to her keyboard and began typing. She muttered unintelligibly (even to Matt's ears) to herself, drank some coffee, and typed some more. After several minutes of this, she looked up from the screen.
"You were right, Dick. Petty Officer First Class Jonathan Mackenzie's son, Christopher, was killed about six months ago in Arlington, Virginia. He was found in a hotel room, naked, and stabbed through the heart. He was an accountant."
Matt said, "I guess the next question to ask is who's next on the list? How many potential victims are there?"
Barbara replied, "The last two members of the squad were Ensign Charles Hammond and Chief Petty Officer Frank O'Reilly. O'Reilly died back in 1998. It'll take me a few minutes to track down any kids they might have."
"I'll go fetch some more coffee," Dick volunteered.
Several minutes later, as promised, Barbara had the information. "Hammond has two daughters, and O'Reilly has two sons and two daughters. Assuming our killer continues going after just the guys, that gives us two possibles."
Matt suddenly had a thought. "Is there a chance that one of the daughters is responsible for this?"
"I guess it's possible," Dick replied, more than a trace of doubt in his voice. "Remember, though, we're looking for an Asian-looking woman, and I would doubt these women fit that profile."
"Right," sighed Matt.
Dick stood up and stretched. He then turned to face Matt and said determinedly, "Looks like our next job is to talk to these SEALs and try to find out what could be coming after them more than thirty years after they left Vietnam."
~~ End Part 3 ~~
Additional author's note: In this part, I mention three rather important people in Matt's life: Karen, Bullseye, and Sister Maggie. Karen Page was Matt's long-time on/off girlfriend (she was introduced in issue #1 back in the 60's) who was killed by the insane villain Bullseye (and Kevin Smith) fairly recently. I don't know that she watched Princess Bride, but it seemed like a movie she would like. Sister Maggie is a nun whom Matt is very close to (and we recently had it confirmed that she is his mother -- also by Kevin Smith).
