Present

            Ben was stunned.  She couldn't possibly be taking the guilt all on herself.  "Grace it wasn't your fault."  She refused to look at him.  He cupped her cheek with his palm and turned her face towards him.  "It wasn't your fault," he repeated forcefully.

            "I should have said something.  If I had warned them…"

            "What?  Maybe the attack would have come here instead and then you would all be dead, including your nephew?"  She looked away with a pained expression, but he pulled her back again.  "Or, maybe they were right all along," said softly.

            "What are you talking about?"

            He looked around.  "They couldn't get a very strong signal from in here and from the way you described it I don't think they'd have enough time to track down whatever information they did receive."

            "Ben," she pleaded softly.  "If the Kobras didn't do it, then who did?"

            "That's what I'm going to find out.  With your help.  Are you up to it?"

            Grace bit her lower lip and peered thoughtfully around the cave – her second home for so many years.  Then she looked back at him with those blue eyes, and Ben knew that he'd do anything for her, absolutely anything.  "Okay.  So where do we start?"

            He glanced back to the massive computer bank.  "Think you can get that thing to work?"

            She raised an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile breaking through the gloom on her face, and she said, "There's two things I can't do.  That's not one of them."

            Ben followed her over to the console, watching as she powered up the big machine.  "So what are they?"

            Without looking back at him, she replied, "Calculus and Trigonometry."

            Two hours later they were seated side-by-side watching video footage caught by a neighboring building's surveillance camera.  "I can't believe you hacked into the First National Bank of Gotham's security system," he murmured in awe as she advanced the footage.

            "I could watch closed Senate hearings if I wanted to.  Here we go," she said with pride.  The film slowed down to normal speed as her father's car could be seen driving up to the restaurant in the bottom left corner.  Her fingers sped along the keyboard as she shifted the image more towards the center.  She could see her parents and Isabella and Terry standing on the curb waiting and she gave a muffled groan of pain.  Wishing to comfort her, Ben placed his hand on her back.  On the video, the four of them got into the car and waited.  For her.  Not long after, it exploded.  They both had to shield their eyes from the blinding light.

            Gently he squeezed her shoulder.  "How're you doing?"

            "Fine," she replied in a strangled voice.  "But that didn't tell us much."

            "Well we probably need to look further back.  Can you get footage from the storage lot?"

            "I think so," she sighed, and then commanded the computer to cycle through various cameras in and around the area of the restaurant.  "Stop!" she commanded as she spotted the area where valets parked the cars.  She reversed the film until she saw the car pulling in.  "At least we know that they couldn't have done anything before this, since it was locked in our garage."  The black and white video showed very little detail but someone walking up to the car would be easily spotted in the three and a half hours it sat there.  No one did.  By the time the valet returned for it, Grace slammed her palm down on the console and swore out loud.

            "Hey, hey," Ben soothed.  "We just need to look more carefully."

            She glared at him and then spun the scene backwards again.  They were both tired with eyes dry and strained, but neither wanted to so much as blink.  Then as they were about to give up Ben saw something very, very strange.  "Look at that."  He placed his finger on the screen over the ground just to the left of the driver's side door.  "That shadow, it's moving.  Underneath the car."

            Grace leaned forward and saw exactly what he meant.  "Well I'll be damned," she breathed.  "It can't be."

            "What?"

            Ignoring him she turned off the video feed and turned on the telecommunications line.  "Computer, dial out.  McKenzie Sumner, Wayne Enterprises."

            "Dialing," the computer chirped in response.

            He tried to ask her again, but she shook her head sharply.  A female voice answered on the second ring.  "Mr. Sumner's office."

            "Hi, this is Grace Wayne.  May I speak with him please?"

            "Certainly.  Hold one moment."

            Almost immediately the line was picked up again.  "Grace honey, is that you?"

            "Yes Uncle Mac."

            "How are you doing?" he asked kindly.  As the senior VP he was now temporarily in control of the entire operation, and had personally taken Isabella under his wing until she was capable of taking charge.  He had taken many meals at the Wayne house, and Grace knew her father respected him highly.

            "I'm okay, I suppose.  The reason I called is, that, well, I had a question to ask."

            "Go ahead honey.  You can ask me anything."

            "Before she…um, my sister was working on a big merger thing, wasn't she?"

            "Ah, yes, yes she was.  A small factory in the Midwest was being liquidated.  By itself it was virtually worthless, but it holds the patent on a revolutionary polymer, one that may get colonies built in space in the next decade.  We were the high bidder on it."

            "And what happens now?"

            He sighed into the phone.  "Unfortunately as invariably happens in these sort of situations, the Wayne stock fell.  Don't worry.  We'll fair just fine, but it takes a bit for the market to stabilize.  However in the meantime, we just don't have the venture capital to pour into anything this major.  If it could wait a few weeks we'd be fine, but it couldn't and we just had to pull out of the bidding."

            Grace closed her eyes.  Fat tears slipped beneath the lids, but her voice maintained a smooth, calm quality.  "Do you know who won the bidding then?"

            "As a matter of fact I do.  Maddox Textiles slipped right in a gobbled it up.  From what I hear it was a godsend for them.  Their productivity has fallen drastically in the last few years and rumor has it that the owner, Jackson Maddox, was going to have to file for Chapter 11 by the end of the year.  I'd say they're golden now."

            "Oh," she replied weakly.

            "You know Grace, we're holding out hope that you'll decide to take the reins.  This place needs a Wayne at its helm."

            "I'll think about it."

            "You do that.  And let me know if I can do anything for you."

            "I will Uncle Mac.  Bye."

            The line was disconnected and she stood still for a moment, and then collapsed.  Ben reached out and grabbed her, pulling her to his chest as she sobbed violently.  "Money!" she screamed, pounding ineffectively against him.  "It was all about money!  My family is dead because of a stupid business deal!  Oh god, oh god, oh god, it was just about money," she moaned.

            "It's all right," he cooed and smoothed her hair tenderly.  "I'm here."  Eventually the cries sputtered out and she just leaned against him, shaking.  "Think you can tell me what's going on now?"

            She stood back and wiped the back of her hand across her nose.  "That was no shadow.  That was Inque."

            "An ink what?"

            "Not a what, a who.  Inque is a professional industrial saboteur, a gun for hire.  Genetically altered so that she can shape shift, she is incredibly cunning and even more dangerous."  Ben nodded, remembering learning about her in the police academy.  "Terry's had a couple of run-ins with her, none of them ended well, but she hasn't been active for a while now and they'd hoped she had retired.  Maddox must have found her.  I just don't know how we can prove it."

            "There is one way."  He took her hand and walked over to the costume case.  "Show me how to work this thing."

            "Huh?  You want to wear it?"

            "Why not?"

            "Ben, not just anybody can walk in and put that suit on and be Batman.  It requires years of training."

            Reaching up, he pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I joined the Marines Corp when I was eighteen and did a four-year stint before becoming a cop."

            "You did?"

            "Yep.  And I was Golden Gloves champ of the base for three of those years.  I can take care of myself.  So how about you show me how to use this thing so we can get down to business?"

            He could see her warring with herself for a few moments, and then she finally gave in.  "Oh all right, just for this one time, I guess."  She pulled the suit out and started pointing.  "It has synaptic controls…"