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 18 - LAST MINUTE CRIME
A dance was in progress at the Hotel Gotham, as a prelude to the second evening of the diamond show. Tonight's event was being staged in the ballroom on the mezzanine, instead of the top-floor salons.
To make up for the stolen Durban Diamond, the Gotham jewelers had supplied three other stones, much smaller than the Durban but quite famous. They were still able to announce that ten million dollars' worth of gems would be exhibited.
Dick Grayson was watching the dancing when a call from Oracle came through his earpiece. Dick immediately contacted the beautiful Selina Kyle, who was almost salivating over the gems which were in such easy reach. Only knowing that she would hear about it for the rest of her life from the man she loved kept her from grabbing the dazzling jewels.
Unbeknownst to Dick and Selina, there was another pair of eyes that were, in a way, helping them. Helena Bertinelli -- also known as The Huntress -- was also at the dance. The tall brunette was stunning in a white dress.
Dick, Selina, and Helena had all noticed half a dozen doubtful faces among the men on the dance floor. They looked like smoothies who didn't belong at a high-society ball. But Dick's primary mission was to find The Penguin in a hurry.
The search was easy. There wasn't too many men who looked like the Penguin. Dick spotted The Black Bird of Prey standing by a curtained archway that opened onto a balcony. He was lighting a cigarette in his long holder. As he puffed, he turned toward the balcony and took a stroll out into the open air.
Dick gave a nod to Selina. The Penguin was accounted for at present. He couldn't make trouble while he was not in the ballroom.
At the other end of the ballroom, hotel employees were wheeling a large showcase in through the entrance. The case contained the jewel display, and it was flanked by four detectives. Other policemen stood in the doorway, and Harvey Bullock was with them.
Commissioner Gordon was with the receiving committee that approached the showcase. Dick saw Alan Clendon chatting with Mushy Nebuchadnezzer, and noted Jon Daley lounging in a corner. Daley did not appear particularly interested in the coming display. At times, he watched the dance. At other intervals, he stood with half-closed eyes, scarcely noticing persons about him.
Clendon turned to the orchestra, at the side of the ballroom, and gave a wide sweep of his arms, ordering the music to cease. As it ended with a final note, Clendon stepped to a microphone. Dick spoke into his comm-link to Selina, Robin -- who was outside the hotel -- and Oracle in an undertone.
"He'll be here any minute," said Dick, referring to Batman. "If The Penguin thinks he can pull another big robbery, he's wrong. Even if he has a scheme, he won't have time to work it."
It didn't seem possible that Dick's statement could be wrong, especially with Batman on his way to the Hotel Gotham. Both Selina and Robin were willing to concede that crime would do a sad, fizzling, fade-out, culminating in the arrest of The Penguin.
The heroes were looking forward to The Penguin's bewilderment when the Man of a Thousand Umbrellas would find himself confronted by Judith Trexel, the girl who could expose the suave society criminal's part in crime.
This was crime's last minute. Ignorant of Batman's approach, criminals could hardly hope to make a thrust for the new display of diamonds. Even if they did, their chances of snatching gems looked negligible. The diamonds were tightly locked in the bulletproof showcase, with the law in full charge.
It happened that crime was in the making. Crime so sudden and amazing that when it struck, it left the civilian-attired heroes as dumfounded as all the other witnesses!
Alan Clendon was announcing that the dance was over. Couples were slow in leaving the floor. Impatiently, Clendon kept asking the rest to retire from the floor, but they didn't go. They were still dancing, a dozen couples, although the music had stopped.
Then, with one accord, the couples halted. There was a loud-voiced chorus from a dozen throats: "Stick up your hands!"
At the cry, Bullock reached for a revolver, as did all the detectives in his squad. Suddenly, Harvey's hand froze upon his gun. He gave a quick order for the others to wait. The men on the dance floor were the ones who had called for hands up, and their dancing partners were shrieking frantically.
The men were crooks -- the girls weren't. The Penguin's con men had chosen models as partners, and had not released the glamourous girls when the music ended. Instead, they had wheeled the helpless women toward the police, using the girls as human shields. Over the bare shoulders of the women, Bullock saw the bristling muzzles of revolvers.
Those guns were ready to chop down the first detective who tried to resist. If Bullock and his squad fired in return, their bullets would not reach the men. The only targets that the police had were the bare backs of the girls in evening gowns, who in their turn could not escape the clutches of the thugs who embraced them.
Every time a model tried to struggle, her partner applied a gun muzzle to her head, letting the other gentlemen crooks keep covering the police. Such applications of the muzzles explained the shrieks that Bullock heard.
The spirited models were wilting under pressure. In some cases, the mobsters were no longer suppressing struggling partners. They were supporting them, instead.
Something hit the floor with a clank. It was Bullock's gun. Glumly, the detectives let their revolvers fall and raised their arms halfway. Two of the con men approached the showcase, dragging their female partners with them. The pair were The Penguin's aces: Rendy and Wallingham.
The smooth crooks told Clendon to unlock the showcase, which he did. They ordered Mushy Nebuchadnezzer to bring them a large satchel which was lying in a corner. When he returned with it, they made him help Clendon bring diamonds from the showcase and put them in the bag.
To Commissioner Gordon, the jewel thieves detailed the ignominious task of gathering up the police revolvers and putting them in the Tuxedo pockets of the various crooks, who thus were doubly armed.
Gordon had no other choice, so he went the rounds with the guns. By the time he had finished his deliveries, he was shaking with anger.
Bullock watched the diamonds go into the bag, a glittering cascade of jewels worth ten million dollars. He intended to remember those gems, and the bag, too. The satchel was made of alligator leather and had two handles.
After it was filled, it became quite heavy, and the mobsters made Clendon and Nebuchadnezzer carry it to the center of the dance floor.
All the while, Dick, Selina, and Helena stood with raised hands, as helpless as a hundred other men and women who were present. It was a situation without parallel, the most amazing crime that Gotham City had ever known, with the largest stakes ever gathered in a single haul. Yet the daring nature of the robbery was the thing that made it so efficient.
With the models as hostages, the crooks feared no resistance. Bullock had locked the door of the ballroom after the diamonds came in. With the doors locked, there was no way for the heroes to change into their costumes.
Even at that, the crooks would still have held the floor. Twelve lives were at stake - those of the luckless glamourous girls, who had begun as partners in a dance and ended as unwilling partners in crime!
But the heroes held an edge that would soon mean opportunity. The crooks had gathered in the guns of the police, but they did not know who they had among them in the room. They did not know that there were three people, Nightwing, Catwoman, and The Huntress, who would be ready as soon as an opportunity presented itself. Outside was Robin, the Boy Wonder.
"Oracle," Dick whispered into his comm-link, "we have a situation, here. Inform The Blackbird to get here ASAP. C.W. and R, wait until the bad guys start the getaway. Don't take any chances until the girls are safe. These guys won't try to drag the girls along. That bag of diamonds is the only handicap they care to bother with."
Dick's analysis was correct. Rendy and Wallingham had moved back to the center of the floor. With sudden shoves, they sent their dance partners spilling along the floor and picked up the bag instead. The two frightened girls remained where they had fallen, looking very bedraggled in their mussed gowns.
Guns circling the group, Rendy and Wallingham retired to the far end of the ballroom, where they opened a door to the fire escape. The other crooks moved back to join them, flinging aside the girls who had served them as human shields.
Again, Dick whispered: "Wait!"
The crooks still had guns, and the police were now unarmed. The models, too, were still in danger -- sprawled about the dance floor, they would be the first targets if the mobsters opened fire.
No stir came from any part of the vast ballroom. Not a person was willing to lift a hand against the crooks, knowing that such a gesture would produce a massacre.
It wasn't until the last of the thugs were in the doorway that a feeble buzz began. As it started, the last pair of crooks made gestures with their guns. They were the rear guard, that pair, leering as they looked around the ballroom, they intended to hold things steady until cars were moving from in back of the hotel.
The rear guards were concentrating upon Bullock and the detectives. They weren't noticing Dick, Selina and Helena. In a quick undertone, Dick said to Selina: "Let's get into that closet."
Selina raised an eyebrow but decided not to say anything.
Unseen, the couple slipped into the closet -- but they found that they weren't alone!
"Oh, excuse me," Dick said in astonishment. Then after looking at who was the third person in the coat closet, he said in a hoarse voice, "You?! What are you doing, here?"
The third person was an unmasked Helena Bertinelli. "Damn!" she exclaimed.
"Well, isn't this interesting, Dickie Boy," Selina said smiling.
"No time!" he whispered. "The odds just got better for our side." With that he started to take his civilian clothes off.
Helena put her mask on and was ready for action.
All Selina pretty much had to do was let her gown drop, roll on her special leather boots and gloves, pull up her cowl, and she was ready to go.
The three costumed figures dropped low to the floor and crawled out of the closet. All the people in the room were facing the armed criminals and the crowd was also blocking the entrance of those assigned to stop the robbery.
Nightwing produced some Mini-Batarangs in his hands and cut loose at the two gunmen serving as the rear guard. The sharp, miniature, shurikens found their marks and dropped the two men.
Surging, the three were joined by Bullock and the detectives. Hurdling dodging models, Harvey and his men pounced upon the wounded crooks and obtained two guns from each: their own and the weapons given them by Gordon.
The pursuers reached outside to the top of the fire escape. Below, they saw men piling into cars, carrying the alligator satchel. The crooks dodged suddenly to cover, finding it close by.
Bullock wheeled, ordering his men back to the shelter of the ballroom. Shouts came from the mobsters as they opened fire, intent to deliver slaughter to those who chose to pursue them.
Then, from darkness opposite, came an answer that was doubly overwhelming. At the end of the alley was a sight that made the criminals shake in their shoes. A gleaming, black, and to them, a dangerous looking automobile. Fog could be seen curling around the rolling arsenal as it ideled, blocking their way of escape.
They couldn't see through the darkend windows of the car -- but they were certain who was inside ... the most dangerous man on earth known by all as Batman!
The bursts of automatics smothered the barks of revolvers. Bullets were bouncing off the Batmobile as a challenge. The crooks were yelling incoherent threats at the Caped Crusader.
Crime's last minute was past. Batman had arrived. Thanks to the efforts of those who assisted him, the master fighter was in time to save threatened men from doom, and shift disaster to the crooks who deserved it!
While the howls of the criminals punctuated their savage gunfire toward the Batmobile, Nightwing remembered The Penguin. The Prodigal Son of the Caped Crusader had last seen the society criminal on the balcony, and decided that he must still be there.
At a turn in small hallway that led to the fire escape, Dick saw the balcony. He couldn't squeeze through the space to it, so he kept on to the ballroom, which was difficult enough, because people were piling down, anxious see the pursuit.
It was less than a single floor from street to ballroom, but it took Nightwing longer than he expected.
In fact, the ballroom was almost deserted when he reached it. Daring people had chosen to watch the chase. Fearsome ones had stampeded through the main door to the lobby, the moment that the way was open. Nightwing looked toward the curtains where he had last seen The Penguin.
The gentleman crook had edged into sight from the balcony. Seeing the way clear, he reached behind the curtain and drew an object into sight. With a quick shout, Nightwing sprang for him.
The thing that The Penguin had was an alligator satchel!
Like a flash, Nightwing remembered the substitution of Judith for Cynthia and recognized that crooks had played a variation of the game. The crowd that went through the fire exit had chucked the jewel-loaded satchel through to the balcony, and had picked up a dummy bag instead.
The Penguin, waiting on the balcony, was starting a reverse trail, carrying a mere ten million dollars as coolly as if the diamonds belonged to him!
The Penguin was waddling for other curtains, only a dozen feet away. They marked a hidden door, a side exit from the ballroom. Nightwing remembered detectives on guard there, earlier, but they had gone. The Black Bird of Prey was taking what he thought was an immediate path to freedom, when the blue-and-black suited hero shouted for him to halt.
The crook started to obey, then raised his umbrella gun in sight, so snakily that he had the weapon aimed before Nightwing realized it.
Nightwing ducked the opening fire. In his haste, The Penguin fired wild, but the costumed vigilante didn't care. The shots were alarms that brought others to the scene.
A few men were still by the display case: Clendon, Nebuchadnezzer, others of the committee. Attracted by the battle, they saw the satchel in The Penguin's hand and recognized it as the jewel bag. They started for the Man of a Thousand Umbrellas, though one man tried to restrain them. That man was Daley, who made wild grabs, yelling that they would be killed.
Daley's shout had logic. The Penguin was desperate. Wheeling back toward the balcony, he was ready to shoot down some of the surgers, when Nightwing came at him through the curtain.
Burying The Penguin half beneath a heavy drape, Nightwing took a hard slug at the criminal's head. The stroke landed home. By all rights, the force of the blow should have flattened the criminal mastermind.
Instead, it barely staggered him. The heavy curtain came between Nightwing's descending fist and The Penguin's skull, the thick velvet serving as a buffer. Again, the Black Bird of Prey's desperation bettered his performance. Unable to get his umbrella gun hand free of the curtain, he used the other to swing the heavy satchel.
It took a strong heft, but The Penguin managed it. The alligator bag drove back Nightwing's warding arm, sprawled the amazed hero half a dozen feet away. Off balance, the super-criminal tangled with the curtain, but squirmed free as the others reached him.
They dived for shelter when The Penguin fired wildly with his umbrella gun. It wasn't until Nightwing joined them that they could resume the chase.
By then, The Penguin was gone over the balcony rail, now using the umbrella like a parachute and the satchel was gone, too. Stumbling between Clendon and Nebuchadnezzer, Nightwing looked for his quarry. He saw running figures, spurting, guns, and heard the distant echoes of people screaming Batman's name -- all proof that his mentor, Catwoman, and The Huntress had routed the other crooks and that the police were rounding them up.
But The Penguin wasn't anywhere in sight, until Nightwing happened to look toward one of the deserted cars.
There was The Penguin, climbing in behind the steering wheel, hauling the precious satchel in after him. He was starting away as the young hero vaulted the balcony rail. Nightwing landed on the ground beneath and dashed through the trucking entrance, hoping to catch the man who walked with a waddle.
In one backward glance, Nightwing saw Mushy Nebuchadnezzer at the rail, waving Clendon back into the ballroom to spread the alarm. Daley wasn't in sight. The Prodigal Son of Batman decided that he must have ducked back inside.
Word was not needed to start a chase after The Penguin. From the moment that his car pulled away, he was marked. The first to raise a shout was a remarkable costumed teenager who popped into sight from a doorway. It was Robin.
Grimly, The Penguin drove at breakneck speed through a hail of police bullets that, somehow, didn't reach him or ruin the car. But by the time he swung into the avenue, a pursuing black car and a red motorcycle were after him.
It was the Batmobile and Robin's modified 491cc, liquid-cooled "motocross" Bat-Cyle. The two bat vehicles clung to The Penguin's trail, and the rolling arsenal and hot motorcycle served as a guide for a string of patrol cars that joined in the chase.
During that pursuit, Batman gave orders over the comm-link that puzzled Robin, until they had gone some distance. The orders were to keep The Penguin's car in sight, but not to overtake it. Soon, Robin understood the purpose. Batman wanted to find out exactly where the Man of a Thousand Umbrellas had headed.
Judith was still in the Batmobile, and she caught the idea, too. With the police cars following the incredible black car, not The Penguin, Batman's plan was sure to work.
Up ahead, The Penguin thought he was getting clear, though the sound of repeated sirens told him that he had very little leeway. Reaching the Nineties, he wheeled into a side street, jolted his car to a stop in front of a small apartment house and waddled inside, carrying the satchel. There, the Black Bird of Prey jabbed the bell of an apartment, spoke hastily through the entry telephone.
Admitted by the buzzer, The Penguin found Curly Regal waiting in the fancy hideout. Rapidly pouring out his story, he informed Curly that the police were close, and the news brought an angry snarl from the big-shot.
"Where else could I head?" demanded The Penguin. "We've got to run together, Curly. You've got a car out back, hidden where you can sneak to it. Make your getaway with the loot, while I hold them off."
The idea pleased Curly. Carrying the diamonds was one feature. Having The Penguin bear the brunt was another. Curly reached for the satchel, but criminal mastermind stopped him.
"The diamonds are wrapped up inside it," explained The Penguin. "Take the package, but never mind the satchel. You'll save yourself some weight."
Curly opened the bag, as The Penguin moved toward the hallway, gun umbrella in hand. As yet, no pursuers had arrived, but the sirens were out front.
Finding the package that The Penguin mentioned, Curly lifted it from the bag, which it very nearly filled. Both he and the waddling little crook were too intent upon their own actions to notice something that occurred elsewhere.
The window of the living room was rising, silently, smoothly. Beyond it was pitch-blackness, which was odd, for Curly's window usually afforded sight of a street lamp, a few hundred feet away. The blackness seemed to twist, pressing inward, it became a living shape. Batman had reached the hideout, to confront the crooks and hold them until the law arrived!
Suddenly, Batman paused, his form not yet fully visible. A curious drama was beginning in his presence. He wanted to see the finish.
Curly Regal had dipped his ear to the package from the alligator bag, and was listening intently. A sharp gleam came to the big-shot's eyes. His blunt face changed expression as he looked around for The Penguin.
By then, The Penguin was just outside the door. Batman could see him, starting a sneak for a stairway. Shifting half across the room, Curly saw him, too, and gave a snarl which the Man of a Thousand Umbrellas heard.
Wisely, The Penguin turned. If he hadn't, he would have received a bullet. For Curly was covering him with a drawn revolver.
His own umbrella gun lowered, The Penguin came back into the apartment. His voice mingled surprise with anger. "What's the trouble, Curly?" he queried. "Why didn't you get started? If I'm going to hold these Masked Hoodlums off --"
"Hold them off?" sneered Curly. "From the roof? That's where you were going!"
"Only to the stairway, where I could flank them."
"Yeah? I think different!" Curly was emphatic. "You were going to let them come right through and head after me. They'd know who owned this hideout easy enough, and seeing that bag --"
"They'd know that you had the diamonds," interposed The Penguin, quickly. "So what? They know already that you're running this racket. What's the difference, Curly?"
"The difference is just this!" Curly was keeping The Penguin closely covered. "I wouldn't have the sparklers, get it? They aren't in that package. You're a double-crosser, Penguin" -- the snarl in Curly's tone was vicious -- "and you're trying to get me with one of my own stunts! I heard that package tick!"
At the word "package," Curly gestured and let his eyes go in the same direction. Curly didn't often make mistakes, but this one was the worst -- and last -- of his career. In the second that Curly was off guard, Penguin's hand gave quickly raised his umbrella, pulling the trigger as it came up.
Curly doubled over, fighting to hold his feet. Batman couldn't get into the room fast enough to stop The Penguin from shooting Curly. Wounded, Curly was able to open fire, but his gun was wabbly. He missed three shots, and was sprawling when he loosed the fourth. By then, Batman was driving through, he cleared Curly's sagging form with a swift leap.
The Penguin was quickly waddling down the stairs, instead of up. Gaining on the crook, Batman sighted him at a turn and threw a quick-release collapsible hinged Batarang that staggered the criminal mastermind, for he heard The Penguin go tumbling down the steps ahead.
Robin had come behind Batman to assist in the pursuit.
A few more paces, Batman could have overtaken The Penguin, but at that moment he heard the slam of an elevator door above. Loud voices told that the police had reached Curly's floor.
Turning about, Batman dashed upward with Robin right behind him. He saw an officer bending over Curly's body. Others had gone ahead into the apartment. The astonished policeman looked up to see Batman sweeping toward him, and he instinctively raised his revolver. The Dark Knight sent him spinning, the gun jolting from his hand.
Two men heard the clatter. One was Bullock. The other, a detective. They had reached Curly's table and were lifting the package that tilted from the satchel. The detective turned with ready gun, but Bullock grabbed his hand. As the heavy package was slipping from their grasp, Batman caught it with a deft dip.
His hands scarcely seemed to hold the burden. Despite its weight, they tossed it, as though passing it along. There was no one to receive it, but the package did not strike the floor. Instead, Batman's fling sent it sailing through the window.
Ten million dollars!
The figures seemed to whirl in Bullock's brain, as he stood, open-mouthed. With that thought, Bullock had a flash of doubt as to whether this was the real Batman or an impostor like Ape Bundy. As Harvey's gun came up, his ears were listening, expecting to hear the precious package hit the courtyard below Curly's window.
The bundle did not go that far. It exploded in midair, with a blast that shattered all the windows on the courtyard and sent up a volcanic flare. Loose bricks rattled in echo.
Harvey Bullock and the other policemen had been saved by the real Masked Manhunter of Gotham City -- Batman!
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 18 - LAST MINUTE CRIME
A dance was in progress at the Hotel Gotham, as a prelude to the second evening of the diamond show. Tonight's event was being staged in the ballroom on the mezzanine, instead of the top-floor salons.
To make up for the stolen Durban Diamond, the Gotham jewelers had supplied three other stones, much smaller than the Durban but quite famous. They were still able to announce that ten million dollars' worth of gems would be exhibited.
Dick Grayson was watching the dancing when a call from Oracle came through his earpiece. Dick immediately contacted the beautiful Selina Kyle, who was almost salivating over the gems which were in such easy reach. Only knowing that she would hear about it for the rest of her life from the man she loved kept her from grabbing the dazzling jewels.
Unbeknownst to Dick and Selina, there was another pair of eyes that were, in a way, helping them. Helena Bertinelli -- also known as The Huntress -- was also at the dance. The tall brunette was stunning in a white dress.
Dick, Selina, and Helena had all noticed half a dozen doubtful faces among the men on the dance floor. They looked like smoothies who didn't belong at a high-society ball. But Dick's primary mission was to find The Penguin in a hurry.
The search was easy. There wasn't too many men who looked like the Penguin. Dick spotted The Black Bird of Prey standing by a curtained archway that opened onto a balcony. He was lighting a cigarette in his long holder. As he puffed, he turned toward the balcony and took a stroll out into the open air.
Dick gave a nod to Selina. The Penguin was accounted for at present. He couldn't make trouble while he was not in the ballroom.
At the other end of the ballroom, hotel employees were wheeling a large showcase in through the entrance. The case contained the jewel display, and it was flanked by four detectives. Other policemen stood in the doorway, and Harvey Bullock was with them.
Commissioner Gordon was with the receiving committee that approached the showcase. Dick saw Alan Clendon chatting with Mushy Nebuchadnezzer, and noted Jon Daley lounging in a corner. Daley did not appear particularly interested in the coming display. At times, he watched the dance. At other intervals, he stood with half-closed eyes, scarcely noticing persons about him.
Clendon turned to the orchestra, at the side of the ballroom, and gave a wide sweep of his arms, ordering the music to cease. As it ended with a final note, Clendon stepped to a microphone. Dick spoke into his comm-link to Selina, Robin -- who was outside the hotel -- and Oracle in an undertone.
"He'll be here any minute," said Dick, referring to Batman. "If The Penguin thinks he can pull another big robbery, he's wrong. Even if he has a scheme, he won't have time to work it."
It didn't seem possible that Dick's statement could be wrong, especially with Batman on his way to the Hotel Gotham. Both Selina and Robin were willing to concede that crime would do a sad, fizzling, fade-out, culminating in the arrest of The Penguin.
The heroes were looking forward to The Penguin's bewilderment when the Man of a Thousand Umbrellas would find himself confronted by Judith Trexel, the girl who could expose the suave society criminal's part in crime.
This was crime's last minute. Ignorant of Batman's approach, criminals could hardly hope to make a thrust for the new display of diamonds. Even if they did, their chances of snatching gems looked negligible. The diamonds were tightly locked in the bulletproof showcase, with the law in full charge.
It happened that crime was in the making. Crime so sudden and amazing that when it struck, it left the civilian-attired heroes as dumfounded as all the other witnesses!
Alan Clendon was announcing that the dance was over. Couples were slow in leaving the floor. Impatiently, Clendon kept asking the rest to retire from the floor, but they didn't go. They were still dancing, a dozen couples, although the music had stopped.
Then, with one accord, the couples halted. There was a loud-voiced chorus from a dozen throats: "Stick up your hands!"
At the cry, Bullock reached for a revolver, as did all the detectives in his squad. Suddenly, Harvey's hand froze upon his gun. He gave a quick order for the others to wait. The men on the dance floor were the ones who had called for hands up, and their dancing partners were shrieking frantically.
The men were crooks -- the girls weren't. The Penguin's con men had chosen models as partners, and had not released the glamourous girls when the music ended. Instead, they had wheeled the helpless women toward the police, using the girls as human shields. Over the bare shoulders of the women, Bullock saw the bristling muzzles of revolvers.
Those guns were ready to chop down the first detective who tried to resist. If Bullock and his squad fired in return, their bullets would not reach the men. The only targets that the police had were the bare backs of the girls in evening gowns, who in their turn could not escape the clutches of the thugs who embraced them.
Every time a model tried to struggle, her partner applied a gun muzzle to her head, letting the other gentlemen crooks keep covering the police. Such applications of the muzzles explained the shrieks that Bullock heard.
The spirited models were wilting under pressure. In some cases, the mobsters were no longer suppressing struggling partners. They were supporting them, instead.
Something hit the floor with a clank. It was Bullock's gun. Glumly, the detectives let their revolvers fall and raised their arms halfway. Two of the con men approached the showcase, dragging their female partners with them. The pair were The Penguin's aces: Rendy and Wallingham.
The smooth crooks told Clendon to unlock the showcase, which he did. They ordered Mushy Nebuchadnezzer to bring them a large satchel which was lying in a corner. When he returned with it, they made him help Clendon bring diamonds from the showcase and put them in the bag.
To Commissioner Gordon, the jewel thieves detailed the ignominious task of gathering up the police revolvers and putting them in the Tuxedo pockets of the various crooks, who thus were doubly armed.
Gordon had no other choice, so he went the rounds with the guns. By the time he had finished his deliveries, he was shaking with anger.
Bullock watched the diamonds go into the bag, a glittering cascade of jewels worth ten million dollars. He intended to remember those gems, and the bag, too. The satchel was made of alligator leather and had two handles.
After it was filled, it became quite heavy, and the mobsters made Clendon and Nebuchadnezzer carry it to the center of the dance floor.
All the while, Dick, Selina, and Helena stood with raised hands, as helpless as a hundred other men and women who were present. It was a situation without parallel, the most amazing crime that Gotham City had ever known, with the largest stakes ever gathered in a single haul. Yet the daring nature of the robbery was the thing that made it so efficient.
With the models as hostages, the crooks feared no resistance. Bullock had locked the door of the ballroom after the diamonds came in. With the doors locked, there was no way for the heroes to change into their costumes.
Even at that, the crooks would still have held the floor. Twelve lives were at stake - those of the luckless glamourous girls, who had begun as partners in a dance and ended as unwilling partners in crime!
But the heroes held an edge that would soon mean opportunity. The crooks had gathered in the guns of the police, but they did not know who they had among them in the room. They did not know that there were three people, Nightwing, Catwoman, and The Huntress, who would be ready as soon as an opportunity presented itself. Outside was Robin, the Boy Wonder.
"Oracle," Dick whispered into his comm-link, "we have a situation, here. Inform The Blackbird to get here ASAP. C.W. and R, wait until the bad guys start the getaway. Don't take any chances until the girls are safe. These guys won't try to drag the girls along. That bag of diamonds is the only handicap they care to bother with."
Dick's analysis was correct. Rendy and Wallingham had moved back to the center of the floor. With sudden shoves, they sent their dance partners spilling along the floor and picked up the bag instead. The two frightened girls remained where they had fallen, looking very bedraggled in their mussed gowns.
Guns circling the group, Rendy and Wallingham retired to the far end of the ballroom, where they opened a door to the fire escape. The other crooks moved back to join them, flinging aside the girls who had served them as human shields.
Again, Dick whispered: "Wait!"
The crooks still had guns, and the police were now unarmed. The models, too, were still in danger -- sprawled about the dance floor, they would be the first targets if the mobsters opened fire.
No stir came from any part of the vast ballroom. Not a person was willing to lift a hand against the crooks, knowing that such a gesture would produce a massacre.
It wasn't until the last of the thugs were in the doorway that a feeble buzz began. As it started, the last pair of crooks made gestures with their guns. They were the rear guard, that pair, leering as they looked around the ballroom, they intended to hold things steady until cars were moving from in back of the hotel.
The rear guards were concentrating upon Bullock and the detectives. They weren't noticing Dick, Selina and Helena. In a quick undertone, Dick said to Selina: "Let's get into that closet."
Selina raised an eyebrow but decided not to say anything.
Unseen, the couple slipped into the closet -- but they found that they weren't alone!
"Oh, excuse me," Dick said in astonishment. Then after looking at who was the third person in the coat closet, he said in a hoarse voice, "You?! What are you doing, here?"
The third person was an unmasked Helena Bertinelli. "Damn!" she exclaimed.
"Well, isn't this interesting, Dickie Boy," Selina said smiling.
"No time!" he whispered. "The odds just got better for our side." With that he started to take his civilian clothes off.
Helena put her mask on and was ready for action.
All Selina pretty much had to do was let her gown drop, roll on her special leather boots and gloves, pull up her cowl, and she was ready to go.
The three costumed figures dropped low to the floor and crawled out of the closet. All the people in the room were facing the armed criminals and the crowd was also blocking the entrance of those assigned to stop the robbery.
Nightwing produced some Mini-Batarangs in his hands and cut loose at the two gunmen serving as the rear guard. The sharp, miniature, shurikens found their marks and dropped the two men.
Surging, the three were joined by Bullock and the detectives. Hurdling dodging models, Harvey and his men pounced upon the wounded crooks and obtained two guns from each: their own and the weapons given them by Gordon.
The pursuers reached outside to the top of the fire escape. Below, they saw men piling into cars, carrying the alligator satchel. The crooks dodged suddenly to cover, finding it close by.
Bullock wheeled, ordering his men back to the shelter of the ballroom. Shouts came from the mobsters as they opened fire, intent to deliver slaughter to those who chose to pursue them.
Then, from darkness opposite, came an answer that was doubly overwhelming. At the end of the alley was a sight that made the criminals shake in their shoes. A gleaming, black, and to them, a dangerous looking automobile. Fog could be seen curling around the rolling arsenal as it ideled, blocking their way of escape.
They couldn't see through the darkend windows of the car -- but they were certain who was inside ... the most dangerous man on earth known by all as Batman!
The bursts of automatics smothered the barks of revolvers. Bullets were bouncing off the Batmobile as a challenge. The crooks were yelling incoherent threats at the Caped Crusader.
Crime's last minute was past. Batman had arrived. Thanks to the efforts of those who assisted him, the master fighter was in time to save threatened men from doom, and shift disaster to the crooks who deserved it!
While the howls of the criminals punctuated their savage gunfire toward the Batmobile, Nightwing remembered The Penguin. The Prodigal Son of the Caped Crusader had last seen the society criminal on the balcony, and decided that he must still be there.
At a turn in small hallway that led to the fire escape, Dick saw the balcony. He couldn't squeeze through the space to it, so he kept on to the ballroom, which was difficult enough, because people were piling down, anxious see the pursuit.
It was less than a single floor from street to ballroom, but it took Nightwing longer than he expected.
In fact, the ballroom was almost deserted when he reached it. Daring people had chosen to watch the chase. Fearsome ones had stampeded through the main door to the lobby, the moment that the way was open. Nightwing looked toward the curtains where he had last seen The Penguin.
The gentleman crook had edged into sight from the balcony. Seeing the way clear, he reached behind the curtain and drew an object into sight. With a quick shout, Nightwing sprang for him.
The thing that The Penguin had was an alligator satchel!
Like a flash, Nightwing remembered the substitution of Judith for Cynthia and recognized that crooks had played a variation of the game. The crowd that went through the fire exit had chucked the jewel-loaded satchel through to the balcony, and had picked up a dummy bag instead.
The Penguin, waiting on the balcony, was starting a reverse trail, carrying a mere ten million dollars as coolly as if the diamonds belonged to him!
The Penguin was waddling for other curtains, only a dozen feet away. They marked a hidden door, a side exit from the ballroom. Nightwing remembered detectives on guard there, earlier, but they had gone. The Black Bird of Prey was taking what he thought was an immediate path to freedom, when the blue-and-black suited hero shouted for him to halt.
The crook started to obey, then raised his umbrella gun in sight, so snakily that he had the weapon aimed before Nightwing realized it.
Nightwing ducked the opening fire. In his haste, The Penguin fired wild, but the costumed vigilante didn't care. The shots were alarms that brought others to the scene.
A few men were still by the display case: Clendon, Nebuchadnezzer, others of the committee. Attracted by the battle, they saw the satchel in The Penguin's hand and recognized it as the jewel bag. They started for the Man of a Thousand Umbrellas, though one man tried to restrain them. That man was Daley, who made wild grabs, yelling that they would be killed.
Daley's shout had logic. The Penguin was desperate. Wheeling back toward the balcony, he was ready to shoot down some of the surgers, when Nightwing came at him through the curtain.
Burying The Penguin half beneath a heavy drape, Nightwing took a hard slug at the criminal's head. The stroke landed home. By all rights, the force of the blow should have flattened the criminal mastermind.
Instead, it barely staggered him. The heavy curtain came between Nightwing's descending fist and The Penguin's skull, the thick velvet serving as a buffer. Again, the Black Bird of Prey's desperation bettered his performance. Unable to get his umbrella gun hand free of the curtain, he used the other to swing the heavy satchel.
It took a strong heft, but The Penguin managed it. The alligator bag drove back Nightwing's warding arm, sprawled the amazed hero half a dozen feet away. Off balance, the super-criminal tangled with the curtain, but squirmed free as the others reached him.
They dived for shelter when The Penguin fired wildly with his umbrella gun. It wasn't until Nightwing joined them that they could resume the chase.
By then, The Penguin was gone over the balcony rail, now using the umbrella like a parachute and the satchel was gone, too. Stumbling between Clendon and Nebuchadnezzer, Nightwing looked for his quarry. He saw running figures, spurting, guns, and heard the distant echoes of people screaming Batman's name -- all proof that his mentor, Catwoman, and The Huntress had routed the other crooks and that the police were rounding them up.
But The Penguin wasn't anywhere in sight, until Nightwing happened to look toward one of the deserted cars.
There was The Penguin, climbing in behind the steering wheel, hauling the precious satchel in after him. He was starting away as the young hero vaulted the balcony rail. Nightwing landed on the ground beneath and dashed through the trucking entrance, hoping to catch the man who walked with a waddle.
In one backward glance, Nightwing saw Mushy Nebuchadnezzer at the rail, waving Clendon back into the ballroom to spread the alarm. Daley wasn't in sight. The Prodigal Son of Batman decided that he must have ducked back inside.
Word was not needed to start a chase after The Penguin. From the moment that his car pulled away, he was marked. The first to raise a shout was a remarkable costumed teenager who popped into sight from a doorway. It was Robin.
Grimly, The Penguin drove at breakneck speed through a hail of police bullets that, somehow, didn't reach him or ruin the car. But by the time he swung into the avenue, a pursuing black car and a red motorcycle were after him.
It was the Batmobile and Robin's modified 491cc, liquid-cooled "motocross" Bat-Cyle. The two bat vehicles clung to The Penguin's trail, and the rolling arsenal and hot motorcycle served as a guide for a string of patrol cars that joined in the chase.
During that pursuit, Batman gave orders over the comm-link that puzzled Robin, until they had gone some distance. The orders were to keep The Penguin's car in sight, but not to overtake it. Soon, Robin understood the purpose. Batman wanted to find out exactly where the Man of a Thousand Umbrellas had headed.
Judith was still in the Batmobile, and she caught the idea, too. With the police cars following the incredible black car, not The Penguin, Batman's plan was sure to work.
Up ahead, The Penguin thought he was getting clear, though the sound of repeated sirens told him that he had very little leeway. Reaching the Nineties, he wheeled into a side street, jolted his car to a stop in front of a small apartment house and waddled inside, carrying the satchel. There, the Black Bird of Prey jabbed the bell of an apartment, spoke hastily through the entry telephone.
Admitted by the buzzer, The Penguin found Curly Regal waiting in the fancy hideout. Rapidly pouring out his story, he informed Curly that the police were close, and the news brought an angry snarl from the big-shot.
"Where else could I head?" demanded The Penguin. "We've got to run together, Curly. You've got a car out back, hidden where you can sneak to it. Make your getaway with the loot, while I hold them off."
The idea pleased Curly. Carrying the diamonds was one feature. Having The Penguin bear the brunt was another. Curly reached for the satchel, but criminal mastermind stopped him.
"The diamonds are wrapped up inside it," explained The Penguin. "Take the package, but never mind the satchel. You'll save yourself some weight."
Curly opened the bag, as The Penguin moved toward the hallway, gun umbrella in hand. As yet, no pursuers had arrived, but the sirens were out front.
Finding the package that The Penguin mentioned, Curly lifted it from the bag, which it very nearly filled. Both he and the waddling little crook were too intent upon their own actions to notice something that occurred elsewhere.
The window of the living room was rising, silently, smoothly. Beyond it was pitch-blackness, which was odd, for Curly's window usually afforded sight of a street lamp, a few hundred feet away. The blackness seemed to twist, pressing inward, it became a living shape. Batman had reached the hideout, to confront the crooks and hold them until the law arrived!
Suddenly, Batman paused, his form not yet fully visible. A curious drama was beginning in his presence. He wanted to see the finish.
Curly Regal had dipped his ear to the package from the alligator bag, and was listening intently. A sharp gleam came to the big-shot's eyes. His blunt face changed expression as he looked around for The Penguin.
By then, The Penguin was just outside the door. Batman could see him, starting a sneak for a stairway. Shifting half across the room, Curly saw him, too, and gave a snarl which the Man of a Thousand Umbrellas heard.
Wisely, The Penguin turned. If he hadn't, he would have received a bullet. For Curly was covering him with a drawn revolver.
His own umbrella gun lowered, The Penguin came back into the apartment. His voice mingled surprise with anger. "What's the trouble, Curly?" he queried. "Why didn't you get started? If I'm going to hold these Masked Hoodlums off --"
"Hold them off?" sneered Curly. "From the roof? That's where you were going!"
"Only to the stairway, where I could flank them."
"Yeah? I think different!" Curly was emphatic. "You were going to let them come right through and head after me. They'd know who owned this hideout easy enough, and seeing that bag --"
"They'd know that you had the diamonds," interposed The Penguin, quickly. "So what? They know already that you're running this racket. What's the difference, Curly?"
"The difference is just this!" Curly was keeping The Penguin closely covered. "I wouldn't have the sparklers, get it? They aren't in that package. You're a double-crosser, Penguin" -- the snarl in Curly's tone was vicious -- "and you're trying to get me with one of my own stunts! I heard that package tick!"
At the word "package," Curly gestured and let his eyes go in the same direction. Curly didn't often make mistakes, but this one was the worst -- and last -- of his career. In the second that Curly was off guard, Penguin's hand gave quickly raised his umbrella, pulling the trigger as it came up.
Curly doubled over, fighting to hold his feet. Batman couldn't get into the room fast enough to stop The Penguin from shooting Curly. Wounded, Curly was able to open fire, but his gun was wabbly. He missed three shots, and was sprawling when he loosed the fourth. By then, Batman was driving through, he cleared Curly's sagging form with a swift leap.
The Penguin was quickly waddling down the stairs, instead of up. Gaining on the crook, Batman sighted him at a turn and threw a quick-release collapsible hinged Batarang that staggered the criminal mastermind, for he heard The Penguin go tumbling down the steps ahead.
Robin had come behind Batman to assist in the pursuit.
A few more paces, Batman could have overtaken The Penguin, but at that moment he heard the slam of an elevator door above. Loud voices told that the police had reached Curly's floor.
Turning about, Batman dashed upward with Robin right behind him. He saw an officer bending over Curly's body. Others had gone ahead into the apartment. The astonished policeman looked up to see Batman sweeping toward him, and he instinctively raised his revolver. The Dark Knight sent him spinning, the gun jolting from his hand.
Two men heard the clatter. One was Bullock. The other, a detective. They had reached Curly's table and were lifting the package that tilted from the satchel. The detective turned with ready gun, but Bullock grabbed his hand. As the heavy package was slipping from their grasp, Batman caught it with a deft dip.
His hands scarcely seemed to hold the burden. Despite its weight, they tossed it, as though passing it along. There was no one to receive it, but the package did not strike the floor. Instead, Batman's fling sent it sailing through the window.
Ten million dollars!
The figures seemed to whirl in Bullock's brain, as he stood, open-mouthed. With that thought, Bullock had a flash of doubt as to whether this was the real Batman or an impostor like Ape Bundy. As Harvey's gun came up, his ears were listening, expecting to hear the precious package hit the courtyard below Curly's window.
The bundle did not go that far. It exploded in midair, with a blast that shattered all the windows on the courtyard and sent up a volcanic flare. Loose bricks rattled in echo.
Harvey Bullock and the other policemen had been saved by the real Masked Manhunter of Gotham City -- Batman!
To be continued ...