Batman sat in the Batcave, sans cowl, staring at the computer screen before him. He didn't like what he saw. Just to make sure, he'd contacted Ray Palmer, one of the world's foremost scientists as well as being the masked avenger known as the Atom. He'd confirmed what Batman had known.
All these stolen parts, all these items added up to form a whole. Like a jigsaw puzzle, each piece incongruous in and of itself, but when put side by side they form a larger picture. A picture Batman didn't like.
Time travel. That was the only possible conclusion. All of those parts, when fitted together, formed the necessary mechanism to create a chronological dissimulation teleporting device. A time machine. Not a good thing to have in the hands of any criminal, much less the Joker's.
Batman needed to track down Quinn and put the machine out of commission before it could be used, because whatever was about to happen was going to happen soon. That last part was the last one needed.
Since he'd figured out what that list had meant, Batman had been combing the city, turning the criminal element upside down searching for Quinn's hideout. If they thought his activities hampering before, he was now downright crippling. He hoped this increased crackdown would result in someone giving up Quinn's location. He wasn't to be disappointed.
While still staring at the screen, the console beeped. An incoming communication rerouted through a series of untraceable lines was fed into the Bat-Computer. He recognized it as coming from a line he maintained for one of his undercover personas. He changed his voice accordingly.
Clicking a button, he barked out, "Malone. What'd ya want?"
"This you Matches?" A nasally voice on the other end whined.
"Said so didn't I?" Responded Batman, impersonating the fictitious 'Matches' Malone.
"Ah, how 'ya doin'?" It sounded like the speaker was shuffling.
"Who's this? If this is some kinda crank…"
"No, no Match. It's me, ya know, Pete. Pete Thomson."
'Nasty' Pete Thomson. Named not for being a tough guy, but for his personal hygiene. The man had never met a bath he liked.
"What'd ya want Nasty? I ain't got time for pleasantries."
"'Ya know the crackdown that's goin' on? Wid the Batman?"
"Yeah, who don't? Now get to the point Nasty, my dialin' finger's getting itchy."
"Okay, okay," Nasty hurried on. "Well, word on the street is that he's lookin' for that Harley Quinn. Ya know, the Joker's gal."
"Yeah…"
"Well, I knows where she's at." Batman was now fully alert.
"What's that got to do with me?"
"Well, uh, some of the guys, well, they, uh, said that yous got an 'in' with the Bat."
"What guys Nasty? What guys…?" Batman's voice dropped menacingly.
"No, no, it ain't like that!" Nasty said in a panic. "Not like that at all! They just say yous know hows to get in contact wid 'em, that's all!"
"You callin' me a snitch Nasty? The last guy who called me a snitch ain't doing much callin' at all these days…"
"No, no way M-Match!" Nasty stammered. "Just that you know how to get a hold of 'em if'n you needs to. That's all Match, honest!" Batman could sense that Nasty was telling the truth. That was good. It wouldn't do to have 'Matches Malone' compromised.
"Okay, let's just say for arguments sake that I've 'got an in' with the Bat. What does that have to do with you?"
"Well, like I said, I know where the clown girl's hidin', and Batman's lookin' for her so I thought…"
"Yeah…?"
"Well, I thought," Nasty swallowed. "That if'n someone were to let da Bat know where the girl was, then he'd like, ease up on us fellers, ya know?"
"That's a very interest'n idea Nasty. If'n I see the Bat I might let 'em know. Of course, that's if'n I knew 'em. And I didn't say that I did, did I Nasty?"
"Naw, naw! You didn't say nuttin' like that, I'd swear on my affidavit, so I would!" Nasty had been in the business long enough to know when he'd 'seen nothing' and 'heard nothing'.
"That's right. You just remember that. Now if'n I did, what would you have me tell 'em?"
"To meet me at the corner of 5th and Dixon at seven tonight."
"You're makin' an awful big assumption I could get that to 'em in time. Assumptions can be bad for one's health Nasty…"
"It doesn't have to be tonight! I'll be dere every night. No rush Match, no rush!"
"If'n I see 'em, I'll let 'em know. Be good to get the heat off. Been cramp'n my style."
"Yeah, get the heat off!" Nasty went on, like a puppy dog. "Been cramp'n alla styles. Well, you just let 'em know that. If'n you run across 'em!" He amended hastily.
"See ya around Nasty."
"Yeah, see ya around Match!" The line went dead as Batman broke the connection.
So, now he had a lead. The prudent thing would be to let Nasty sweat for a while.
Let three, maybe four days go by before meeting him. But time was of the essence. Batman smiled at the unintentional pun. He'd have to meet Nasty tonight. Seven o'clock—that was only eight hours away. While he didn't suspect a trap, it wouldn't do to take any chances.
Donning his cowl and leaving word with Alfred, he set off to stake out the reconnaissance point.
***
"Did he say what I'm looking for?" Asked Robin into his headset, continuing to stare at the unmoving hulk that was Arkham Asylum.
"Just anything," replied Oracle, smiling to herself at his impatience. She'd been like that when she'd been in the game. So had Dick.
"Great, that's specific…"
"You'll know it when you see it, I suppose. Think of it as a sight seeing trip." The amusement was evident in her voice. "Oracle out."
"Some sight…"