BATMAN: CRIME, CRIME EVERYWHERE
By Bruce Wayne
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.
CHAPTER 17 - CROOKS FIND BATMAN
There was a little room in the rear of Red Mike's hang-out that served an unusual purpose. It was really a telephone booth, though it was twenty times too large for one. A reason lay behind the fact, namely, that Red Mike did not like telephone booths.
Red Mike had one formerly, in his old place. It had given him too much trouble. Several times, customers had complained that a guy was staying in the booth too long. In every case, the "guy" had turned out to be dead, which meant troublesome visits from the police.
So Red Mike had turned a room into a phone booth large enough for elbow room. A place where customers who used the telephone could have friends handy to see that no one interrupted their calls with gun muzzles or knife points.
Customers only used the telephone room when they made calls or expected them, and neither process was very common. Growdy had probably noticed it, and therefore chosen Red Mike's as a convenient place to wait around, considering that people who took calls at Mike's were no longer jinxed.
At any rate, Batman found the phone room dark and deserted, as well as conveniently located near one of the dive's exits. The room still seemed empty after The Caped Crusader was inside it, for darkness was the very atmosphere that suited him.
It was half an hour before Batman received the call he hoped for. Suppressing the bell the moment that it began to ring, he lifted the receiver and spoke in a tone as gruff as Growdy's. The words he muttered suited something that he had heard the night before: "That you, Jeff?"
It was Jeff, and he wanted to know how Growdy was. When Batman growled, "Okay," Jeff said that the big mob was on the job and expecting him.
Growdy was supposed to know where he was to go and Jeff had presented Batman with a problem. But the black-cloaked speaker promptly handled it. "Hold it," gruffed The Dark Knight. Then, lowering his growl: "Somebody's snooping here. Gimme the phone number up at your place, and I'll call you back after I take a gander."
Jeff supplied the number. Hanging up, Batman promptly called Oracle on his comm-link and repeated it. Within seconds by using her computer, Barbara Gordon had the address. It was that of an apartment house, where Jeff happened to be living on the floor below Judith.
All that remained to lull Jeff was the return call that "Growdy" had promised. So far, Batman's scheme had clicked in perfect style. He had been congratulating himself, however, because no one had come to the phone room, a thing which had an element of luck. As was the way with luck, it didn't hold.
Scarcely had Batman dropped two quarters into the pay phone, when the door of the room was kicked inward, admitting more than the dim light of the passage.
With the swing of the door came the glare of two strong flashlights, which were pointed straight toward the telephone. Caught in the glare, Batman was outlined like an actor on the stage.
The arrivals were a couple of mobsters, who had a feud with others of their ilk and weren't taking chances on running into ambush. But they forgot their differences with other denizens of scumland when they saw the black- caped intruder.
They raised a loud shout, a double chorus that was heard throughout Red Mike's voicing the name that could rally all crimeland to action: "BATMAN!"
Guns coming from their hips, the pair sought to start the action they knew their shout would bring. The action began, but the two mobsters didn't start it.
There was a whirl of blackness from the corner, that merged with the dark, away from the path of the flashlights. As crooks veered to spot Batman again, they found him without their lights.
The blackness was upon them, a living avalanche. Batman lunged them ahead of him, swinging his fists. The iron-fisted hands were like bludgeons that met the skulls of his discoverers.
Neither mobster was able to blast a shot at Batman before he reached them. They fired, but their bullets went wide, because their revolvers were flying back across their shoulders.
It took the noise of the gunshots to drown the solid skull thuds that Batman supplied. He didn't even stop his drive, but hurdled the senseless thugs while they sagged. By the time more thugs arrived, attracted by the gunfire, The Gotham Goliath was gone.
***
Having served that timely dose to those who needed it, Batman was off on his real quest. He had no time to waste in getting to Jeff's. If that thug began to wonder why Growdy did not call back, the scene might change before The Masked Manhunter reached it.
Confident that the crooks were holding some girl a prisoner, Batman raced the Batmobile to the appointed address. He weaved through streets using an electronic device that allowed him to change traffic lights in his favor when he neared them.
As the rolling arsenal neared the apartment house, Batman made a trip around the block.
During that circuit, Batman viewed certain windows, saw some that impressed him. They were on the fourth floor, near a rear corner, and the shades were drawn tight.
Leaving the Batmobile near the front of the apartment house, Batman made a gliding, unseen trip through the janitor's entrance and chose a stairway, instead of the elevator.
He could see doors from each turn of the stairs, and some seemed suspiciously ajar. On that account, Batman kept up to the top, found steps to a trapdoor that opened to the roof and took them. Soon, he had reached the parapet at the very corner above the apartment with the drawn shades. The apartment lay three floors beneath, considering the roof as a seventh story.
Batman reached to his utility belt and brought out a coil of silk rope that was slender but very strong. The Caped Crusader used this special type of rope because of its strength and he liked the feel of it in his hands.
He attached the end of the rope to a metal pipe that ran along the roof, near the parapet. Drawing the rope taut, he lowered himself over the roof edge.
Six floors of space lay below, but that was not why Batman paused before making a descent. He was making proper preparations for his journey, calculating whatever hazards might lie along the route. He preferred to go down the blank wall until he reached the fourth-floor level, then work sideward to the apartment that he sought.
It was much better than going past windows where gunners might be on watch. Besides, lights from windows might reveal Batman to lurkers in the courtyard below. Beyond the court were low-roofed houses lining the rear street, all likely places where members of Jeff's "big mob" could be.
One place was seemingly safe: the roof that Batman had just left. Things changed there, however, immediately after the black-cloaked venturer had dipped beyond the parapet. Two men crept through the doorway that The Dark Knight had used to reach the roof. One was Jeff. The other, the pal who had helped him bring Judith from the Hotel Gotham.
"Something's gone whacky," undertoned Jeff. "Growdy didn't call back, and when I tried to get him at Red Mike's, some copper got on the phone. I don't like it, Fergie."
"You think Batman was in on it?" queried Fergie.
"That's what I'd like to know," returned Jeff. "If it was him that Growdy heard snooping, we'll be in for trouble. That's why I wanted to take a gander up here on the roof. The Batman has a way of sneaking to spots like this."
They were creeping across the roof, near the parapet and Fergie gave a hoarse whisper and clutched at Jeff's arm. Fergie had found the tied end of the rope. Jeff shoved Fergie aside before the fellow could grip the taut line. Carefully, Jeff tested it with a light-fingered touch, then motioned Fergie to do the same.
Slight tugs from the rope told that it was in use. Both crooks could picture Batman, dangling from the other end of the line, working his way down to Judith's apartment. What pleased Jeff was the fact that the rope went over the parapet near the corner, where there was only a blank wall below.
From his pocket, Jeff pulled a large folding knife, opened the big blade and placed it carefully against the taut rope. The rope was tough, but slender, and Jeff figured that he could cut it with a single slice.
Gripping the knife tightly, he drew the sharp edge across the rope with a slow, sawing motion.
The rope didn't quite cut through, but its frayed edges yielded under the pulling from beyond the parapet. Before Jeff could make another stroke with the knife, the rope snapped. Like a frightened snake, it whipped across the parapet and lashed down into darkness.
Whoever was dependent on that rope had certainly gone with it, on a forty-foot trip to the courtyard below.
Gloatingly, Jeff croaked a fitting epitaph: "Good-bye, Batman!"
All that the gloating crooks awaited was the crash of Batman's falling form when it hit the cement courtyard. They couldn't hear it where they crouched, for the parapet intervened. Jeff remembered, too, that such crashes were frequently thuddy. Drawing a revolver, Jeff raised himself to the parapet.
"The guys downstairs must have heard it," he told Fergie. "I'll point Batman out to them."
Half across the parapet, Jeff pointed the gun downward. Fergie noted a squint of his pal's eyes. Jeff already saw Batman!
Although the rope was gone, The Gotham Avenger still remained at the level of the fourth floor, clinging to the blank wall like a mammoth bat!
As Jeff shoved his gun muzzle downward, he saw a gloved hand come upward, aiming some sort of gun in return. It was Batman's grapnel. Hastily, Jeff fired. At the same instant Batman's handheld device spurted. The shots were simultaneous, but they differed in matter of aim.
Batman had a perfect line of fire. He had simply taken aim by knuckling his hand against the wall, to point the grapnel straight upward. Jeff hadn't that advantage. He was leaning over the roof edge, bringing his gun inward as he fired. Jeff's first shot missed. He needed a second try, but failed to get it.
Jolted by Batman's small grappling hook to the chest, Jeff lost his grip upon the parapet. His overbalanced form pitched outward. Shrieking wildly as he clawed the air, he dived to the cement. As he passed, The Masked Manhunter shifted to avoid him.
It was an easy shift, considering how Batman was fixed to the wall. Like a rock-climber, his incredbile athletic ability, talent, and strength allowed him to cling to the wall using any crevice that could be found.
When the rope lashed past him, he knew that it had been cut. His right hand had grabbed for any kind of hold on the wall he could find. He was lucky that it was an old building in which natural erosion had created a great number of crevices on the wall.
Batman was still on the move when the injured crook hit the courtyard. That wasn't The Caped Crusader's intended outcome for the criminal, but it had been the hand of fate.
This time, Fergie heard a crash and knew what had happened. But Fergie didn't care to take the chance that had finished Jeff. Instead, he flashed a light above the parapet and yelled to men below: "Get Batman! He's on the wall, over by the corner!"
Shooters began to blast the bricks with bullets. Fortunately for Batman, their aim was excellent. Their slugs were beating a tattoo in the very space that Fergie had named, and The Dark Knight was no longer there.
Speeding his crablike gait away from the corner, Batman reached Judith's window.
It took only a dozen seconds, but by that time snipers knew that they were not scoring hits. An automobile searchlight sliced from an alleyway and swept up along the wall. The gleam bathed the corner, then swung toward Judith's window.
The light showed Batman clutching the window sill. His knees were doubled up to his hands. He was twisting his feet free, ready to crash headforemost through the glass.
Whether the delay of smashing the barrier would have given crooks the time they needed, was something that the gunners never learned. Timed just ahead of Batman's lunge, the window shade ripped upward and the sash rose with it, flung by Judith's hands.
The girl had heard the shooting and thought that the police had come. She wanted to tell them who she was, why she was here. She didn't expect to find anyone outside the window. To her amazed eyes, Batman's inward surge seemed like an invasion of the night itself.
Before the girl could even gasp, Batman bowled her from the window, sent her in a long sprawl to the center of the room. His own dive landed him on the floor, shoulder first.
As Batman struck, a submachine gun chattered from the alley. Its spray of bullets ripped the window frame to shreds. The hail of lead tore the wall of Judith's living room and carved holes in the door that led to the hall. But all that peppering took place above the level of the window sill, for the gunfire could not tear apart the bricks.
Judith remembered Batman, from the night before, when he had come, like a ghost from nowhere, to dispose of a murderous hoodlum named Growdy. She gave snatches of the story that she wanted this friend to believe -- that she had been duped into aiding crime, the night before.
Firing ended, as the crooks found they were getting nowhere with the submachine gun. Reaching up to the knob of the door, Batman opened it. Grabbing Judith's wrist, he dragged her through on hands and knees.
They were around the doorway, when the machine gun began another hail. Crooks had noticed the top of the door swing when Batman opened it.
Getting to the stairway, Batman was drawing Judith down the steps, when he heard the door of the elevator clang open. Spinning the girl to the shelter of the stairs, The Gotham Goliath wheeled and saw what he was up against.
Reaching to his incredible utility belt, Batman pulled out a flash/bang pellet and hurled it at the would-be gunmen. The pair fell to the floor after the powerful blast and bright light blinded them. The Masked Manhunter overtook Judith and hurried her down the stairs. Just past the second floor, they met crooks coming up. Batman warded Judith back with one hand and threw another flash/bang pellet down the stairs.
Another pair of foemen went tumbling from the frightening blast that seemed to shake the entire building. Unexpected attack was Batman's advantage in this running fight. It would not last outdoors, so he headed for the janitor's room in the basement.
By this time, the neighborhood was aroused, and police would soon arrive. Ordinarily, Batman would have weaved his way past crooks and left them looking for him, but such a course was dangerous, with Judith along.
Pointing toward a chair, Batman told the girl to rest, while he kept watch at the door. Peering through a crack, The Caped Crusader placed his other hand on the light switch, intending to press it off should crooks approach this quarter. Finding that the lull continued, Batman reached behind his back and handed an envelope to Judith.
Puzzled at first, the girl opened the envelope. Inside, she found a sheet of photographs which he had ran off the Batcomputer. The pictures showed every society-man who had been present at the diamond show the night before.
"Find the man you know," Batman told Judith. "The one who talked you into helping him last night."
"His name was The Penguin," began the girl. "I think I mentioned that upstairs."
"Point to his picture," instructed Batman.
Judith found The Penguin's photograph. It tallied.
Batman held his hand up and then looked up as if speaking into the air. "Oracle?"
Judith couldn't hear anything, but Batman did in his ear. "Yes, Boss?"
"Contact Nightwing and tell him to keep an eye open for The Penguin."
Hardly had Batman given the message, before a roar of guns began outdoors. Catching Judith's arm, The Dark Knight hurried her out through the basement.
The next few minutes were the most exciting that Judith had ever experienced. Compared to them, her previous adventures seemed a childish recollection.
Crooks were all about, shooting it out with arriving police. Judith could hear the whines of sirens. She saw blue uniforms emanating from police cars. She was rushed through darkness into spots where she would have sworn that walls intervened, until Batman picked the needed openings.
She could hardly see Batman in the darkness, but she felt the firm grip of his hand upon her arm.
Looking back along a passage, Judith saw squirming crooks, with officers pouncing upon them.
Then Judith was in the Batmobile. How she happened to arrive there, she couldn't understand, for she was dazed and breathless. The car was wheeling through streets, just as Batman had sped through alleyways and passages. Sirens were everywhere, and sometimes police cars fired at the incredible black automobile, probably thinking that fleeing crooks were in it.
Always, the Batmobile was gone before the mistaken police could halt it. The driver was remarkably skillful.
Judith was fascinated by the way he picked streets where the cordon had not closed in. Finally, the sounds of sirens had faded far behind, and Batman seemed to settle back deep in his seat.
She could tell by the look of determination on his face that Batman would deal with crooks to come as he had handled those whose evil careers had ended in the very recent past!
To be continued ...
By Bruce Wayne
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by the author.
CHAPTER 17 - CROOKS FIND BATMAN
There was a little room in the rear of Red Mike's hang-out that served an unusual purpose. It was really a telephone booth, though it was twenty times too large for one. A reason lay behind the fact, namely, that Red Mike did not like telephone booths.
Red Mike had one formerly, in his old place. It had given him too much trouble. Several times, customers had complained that a guy was staying in the booth too long. In every case, the "guy" had turned out to be dead, which meant troublesome visits from the police.
So Red Mike had turned a room into a phone booth large enough for elbow room. A place where customers who used the telephone could have friends handy to see that no one interrupted their calls with gun muzzles or knife points.
Customers only used the telephone room when they made calls or expected them, and neither process was very common. Growdy had probably noticed it, and therefore chosen Red Mike's as a convenient place to wait around, considering that people who took calls at Mike's were no longer jinxed.
At any rate, Batman found the phone room dark and deserted, as well as conveniently located near one of the dive's exits. The room still seemed empty after The Caped Crusader was inside it, for darkness was the very atmosphere that suited him.
It was half an hour before Batman received the call he hoped for. Suppressing the bell the moment that it began to ring, he lifted the receiver and spoke in a tone as gruff as Growdy's. The words he muttered suited something that he had heard the night before: "That you, Jeff?"
It was Jeff, and he wanted to know how Growdy was. When Batman growled, "Okay," Jeff said that the big mob was on the job and expecting him.
Growdy was supposed to know where he was to go and Jeff had presented Batman with a problem. But the black-cloaked speaker promptly handled it. "Hold it," gruffed The Dark Knight. Then, lowering his growl: "Somebody's snooping here. Gimme the phone number up at your place, and I'll call you back after I take a gander."
Jeff supplied the number. Hanging up, Batman promptly called Oracle on his comm-link and repeated it. Within seconds by using her computer, Barbara Gordon had the address. It was that of an apartment house, where Jeff happened to be living on the floor below Judith.
All that remained to lull Jeff was the return call that "Growdy" had promised. So far, Batman's scheme had clicked in perfect style. He had been congratulating himself, however, because no one had come to the phone room, a thing which had an element of luck. As was the way with luck, it didn't hold.
Scarcely had Batman dropped two quarters into the pay phone, when the door of the room was kicked inward, admitting more than the dim light of the passage.
With the swing of the door came the glare of two strong flashlights, which were pointed straight toward the telephone. Caught in the glare, Batman was outlined like an actor on the stage.
The arrivals were a couple of mobsters, who had a feud with others of their ilk and weren't taking chances on running into ambush. But they forgot their differences with other denizens of scumland when they saw the black- caped intruder.
They raised a loud shout, a double chorus that was heard throughout Red Mike's voicing the name that could rally all crimeland to action: "BATMAN!"
Guns coming from their hips, the pair sought to start the action they knew their shout would bring. The action began, but the two mobsters didn't start it.
There was a whirl of blackness from the corner, that merged with the dark, away from the path of the flashlights. As crooks veered to spot Batman again, they found him without their lights.
The blackness was upon them, a living avalanche. Batman lunged them ahead of him, swinging his fists. The iron-fisted hands were like bludgeons that met the skulls of his discoverers.
Neither mobster was able to blast a shot at Batman before he reached them. They fired, but their bullets went wide, because their revolvers were flying back across their shoulders.
It took the noise of the gunshots to drown the solid skull thuds that Batman supplied. He didn't even stop his drive, but hurdled the senseless thugs while they sagged. By the time more thugs arrived, attracted by the gunfire, The Gotham Goliath was gone.
***
Having served that timely dose to those who needed it, Batman was off on his real quest. He had no time to waste in getting to Jeff's. If that thug began to wonder why Growdy did not call back, the scene might change before The Masked Manhunter reached it.
Confident that the crooks were holding some girl a prisoner, Batman raced the Batmobile to the appointed address. He weaved through streets using an electronic device that allowed him to change traffic lights in his favor when he neared them.
As the rolling arsenal neared the apartment house, Batman made a trip around the block.
During that circuit, Batman viewed certain windows, saw some that impressed him. They were on the fourth floor, near a rear corner, and the shades were drawn tight.
Leaving the Batmobile near the front of the apartment house, Batman made a gliding, unseen trip through the janitor's entrance and chose a stairway, instead of the elevator.
He could see doors from each turn of the stairs, and some seemed suspiciously ajar. On that account, Batman kept up to the top, found steps to a trapdoor that opened to the roof and took them. Soon, he had reached the parapet at the very corner above the apartment with the drawn shades. The apartment lay three floors beneath, considering the roof as a seventh story.
Batman reached to his utility belt and brought out a coil of silk rope that was slender but very strong. The Caped Crusader used this special type of rope because of its strength and he liked the feel of it in his hands.
He attached the end of the rope to a metal pipe that ran along the roof, near the parapet. Drawing the rope taut, he lowered himself over the roof edge.
Six floors of space lay below, but that was not why Batman paused before making a descent. He was making proper preparations for his journey, calculating whatever hazards might lie along the route. He preferred to go down the blank wall until he reached the fourth-floor level, then work sideward to the apartment that he sought.
It was much better than going past windows where gunners might be on watch. Besides, lights from windows might reveal Batman to lurkers in the courtyard below. Beyond the court were low-roofed houses lining the rear street, all likely places where members of Jeff's "big mob" could be.
One place was seemingly safe: the roof that Batman had just left. Things changed there, however, immediately after the black-cloaked venturer had dipped beyond the parapet. Two men crept through the doorway that The Dark Knight had used to reach the roof. One was Jeff. The other, the pal who had helped him bring Judith from the Hotel Gotham.
"Something's gone whacky," undertoned Jeff. "Growdy didn't call back, and when I tried to get him at Red Mike's, some copper got on the phone. I don't like it, Fergie."
"You think Batman was in on it?" queried Fergie.
"That's what I'd like to know," returned Jeff. "If it was him that Growdy heard snooping, we'll be in for trouble. That's why I wanted to take a gander up here on the roof. The Batman has a way of sneaking to spots like this."
They were creeping across the roof, near the parapet and Fergie gave a hoarse whisper and clutched at Jeff's arm. Fergie had found the tied end of the rope. Jeff shoved Fergie aside before the fellow could grip the taut line. Carefully, Jeff tested it with a light-fingered touch, then motioned Fergie to do the same.
Slight tugs from the rope told that it was in use. Both crooks could picture Batman, dangling from the other end of the line, working his way down to Judith's apartment. What pleased Jeff was the fact that the rope went over the parapet near the corner, where there was only a blank wall below.
From his pocket, Jeff pulled a large folding knife, opened the big blade and placed it carefully against the taut rope. The rope was tough, but slender, and Jeff figured that he could cut it with a single slice.
Gripping the knife tightly, he drew the sharp edge across the rope with a slow, sawing motion.
The rope didn't quite cut through, but its frayed edges yielded under the pulling from beyond the parapet. Before Jeff could make another stroke with the knife, the rope snapped. Like a frightened snake, it whipped across the parapet and lashed down into darkness.
Whoever was dependent on that rope had certainly gone with it, on a forty-foot trip to the courtyard below.
Gloatingly, Jeff croaked a fitting epitaph: "Good-bye, Batman!"
All that the gloating crooks awaited was the crash of Batman's falling form when it hit the cement courtyard. They couldn't hear it where they crouched, for the parapet intervened. Jeff remembered, too, that such crashes were frequently thuddy. Drawing a revolver, Jeff raised himself to the parapet.
"The guys downstairs must have heard it," he told Fergie. "I'll point Batman out to them."
Half across the parapet, Jeff pointed the gun downward. Fergie noted a squint of his pal's eyes. Jeff already saw Batman!
Although the rope was gone, The Gotham Avenger still remained at the level of the fourth floor, clinging to the blank wall like a mammoth bat!
As Jeff shoved his gun muzzle downward, he saw a gloved hand come upward, aiming some sort of gun in return. It was Batman's grapnel. Hastily, Jeff fired. At the same instant Batman's handheld device spurted. The shots were simultaneous, but they differed in matter of aim.
Batman had a perfect line of fire. He had simply taken aim by knuckling his hand against the wall, to point the grapnel straight upward. Jeff hadn't that advantage. He was leaning over the roof edge, bringing his gun inward as he fired. Jeff's first shot missed. He needed a second try, but failed to get it.
Jolted by Batman's small grappling hook to the chest, Jeff lost his grip upon the parapet. His overbalanced form pitched outward. Shrieking wildly as he clawed the air, he dived to the cement. As he passed, The Masked Manhunter shifted to avoid him.
It was an easy shift, considering how Batman was fixed to the wall. Like a rock-climber, his incredbile athletic ability, talent, and strength allowed him to cling to the wall using any crevice that could be found.
When the rope lashed past him, he knew that it had been cut. His right hand had grabbed for any kind of hold on the wall he could find. He was lucky that it was an old building in which natural erosion had created a great number of crevices on the wall.
Batman was still on the move when the injured crook hit the courtyard. That wasn't The Caped Crusader's intended outcome for the criminal, but it had been the hand of fate.
This time, Fergie heard a crash and knew what had happened. But Fergie didn't care to take the chance that had finished Jeff. Instead, he flashed a light above the parapet and yelled to men below: "Get Batman! He's on the wall, over by the corner!"
Shooters began to blast the bricks with bullets. Fortunately for Batman, their aim was excellent. Their slugs were beating a tattoo in the very space that Fergie had named, and The Dark Knight was no longer there.
Speeding his crablike gait away from the corner, Batman reached Judith's window.
It took only a dozen seconds, but by that time snipers knew that they were not scoring hits. An automobile searchlight sliced from an alleyway and swept up along the wall. The gleam bathed the corner, then swung toward Judith's window.
The light showed Batman clutching the window sill. His knees were doubled up to his hands. He was twisting his feet free, ready to crash headforemost through the glass.
Whether the delay of smashing the barrier would have given crooks the time they needed, was something that the gunners never learned. Timed just ahead of Batman's lunge, the window shade ripped upward and the sash rose with it, flung by Judith's hands.
The girl had heard the shooting and thought that the police had come. She wanted to tell them who she was, why she was here. She didn't expect to find anyone outside the window. To her amazed eyes, Batman's inward surge seemed like an invasion of the night itself.
Before the girl could even gasp, Batman bowled her from the window, sent her in a long sprawl to the center of the room. His own dive landed him on the floor, shoulder first.
As Batman struck, a submachine gun chattered from the alley. Its spray of bullets ripped the window frame to shreds. The hail of lead tore the wall of Judith's living room and carved holes in the door that led to the hall. But all that peppering took place above the level of the window sill, for the gunfire could not tear apart the bricks.
Judith remembered Batman, from the night before, when he had come, like a ghost from nowhere, to dispose of a murderous hoodlum named Growdy. She gave snatches of the story that she wanted this friend to believe -- that she had been duped into aiding crime, the night before.
Firing ended, as the crooks found they were getting nowhere with the submachine gun. Reaching up to the knob of the door, Batman opened it. Grabbing Judith's wrist, he dragged her through on hands and knees.
They were around the doorway, when the machine gun began another hail. Crooks had noticed the top of the door swing when Batman opened it.
Getting to the stairway, Batman was drawing Judith down the steps, when he heard the door of the elevator clang open. Spinning the girl to the shelter of the stairs, The Gotham Goliath wheeled and saw what he was up against.
Reaching to his incredible utility belt, Batman pulled out a flash/bang pellet and hurled it at the would-be gunmen. The pair fell to the floor after the powerful blast and bright light blinded them. The Masked Manhunter overtook Judith and hurried her down the stairs. Just past the second floor, they met crooks coming up. Batman warded Judith back with one hand and threw another flash/bang pellet down the stairs.
Another pair of foemen went tumbling from the frightening blast that seemed to shake the entire building. Unexpected attack was Batman's advantage in this running fight. It would not last outdoors, so he headed for the janitor's room in the basement.
By this time, the neighborhood was aroused, and police would soon arrive. Ordinarily, Batman would have weaved his way past crooks and left them looking for him, but such a course was dangerous, with Judith along.
Pointing toward a chair, Batman told the girl to rest, while he kept watch at the door. Peering through a crack, The Caped Crusader placed his other hand on the light switch, intending to press it off should crooks approach this quarter. Finding that the lull continued, Batman reached behind his back and handed an envelope to Judith.
Puzzled at first, the girl opened the envelope. Inside, she found a sheet of photographs which he had ran off the Batcomputer. The pictures showed every society-man who had been present at the diamond show the night before.
"Find the man you know," Batman told Judith. "The one who talked you into helping him last night."
"His name was The Penguin," began the girl. "I think I mentioned that upstairs."
"Point to his picture," instructed Batman.
Judith found The Penguin's photograph. It tallied.
Batman held his hand up and then looked up as if speaking into the air. "Oracle?"
Judith couldn't hear anything, but Batman did in his ear. "Yes, Boss?"
"Contact Nightwing and tell him to keep an eye open for The Penguin."
Hardly had Batman given the message, before a roar of guns began outdoors. Catching Judith's arm, The Dark Knight hurried her out through the basement.
The next few minutes were the most exciting that Judith had ever experienced. Compared to them, her previous adventures seemed a childish recollection.
Crooks were all about, shooting it out with arriving police. Judith could hear the whines of sirens. She saw blue uniforms emanating from police cars. She was rushed through darkness into spots where she would have sworn that walls intervened, until Batman picked the needed openings.
She could hardly see Batman in the darkness, but she felt the firm grip of his hand upon her arm.
Looking back along a passage, Judith saw squirming crooks, with officers pouncing upon them.
Then Judith was in the Batmobile. How she happened to arrive there, she couldn't understand, for she was dazed and breathless. The car was wheeling through streets, just as Batman had sped through alleyways and passages. Sirens were everywhere, and sometimes police cars fired at the incredible black automobile, probably thinking that fleeing crooks were in it.
Always, the Batmobile was gone before the mistaken police could halt it. The driver was remarkably skillful.
Judith was fascinated by the way he picked streets where the cordon had not closed in. Finally, the sounds of sirens had faded far behind, and Batman seemed to settle back deep in his seat.
She could tell by the look of determination on his face that Batman would deal with crooks to come as he had handled those whose evil careers had ended in the very recent past!
To be continued ...