Bruce retreated and Batman took over as his boots hit floor of the Batcave. He shrugged off the smoking jacket and without even looking he threw it behind him, where it landed neatly on the rather incongruous coat-stand which Alfred insisted be kept at the foot of the steps. He pulled the cloak around him and donned the cowl.
He went to the computer console and checked the data from the comparison tests he'd been running. All were negative, as he had expected. There wasn't the slightest trace of fingerprints, hair follicle or any body fluid from the Corinthian from the scene of Brad's death. There was no doubt the Police had been thorough, but even with the Batcave's resources there was nothing, just like all the others.
Clearly the forensic route was, for whatever reason, not going to be of any use in this case. It was time to pursue other avenues, a comment that Pulaski had made had struck a chord, tied in with a comment from Profile.
He consulted a file on one of the computers side systems, and after a moment poring over the contents, dialled a number.
"Hello?" came the somewhat startled answer after two rings.
"Profile. It's me."
"Who do yo… oh of course. Who else? I'd normally ask how you got this number, but under the circumstances… How's Robin?"
Of all the questions Profile might have asked, this was one that even Batman hadn't been ready for.
"Meaning?"
"I hear things, it's what I do. Some things good, some things not so good…things like last night at Ma Graves. About your junior partner not doing so hot…" There was a pause… "Look, Rhonda told me to ask you, okay? So tell me okay, just to set her mind at rest. She likes him and It'll go no further than her, my word of.., well, honour isn't the right word, but you know what I mean."
Batman paused, to give out any information might lead to all sorts of conclusions being drawn, but did he really have a choice here? He was about to ask Profile for something a lot bigger in return.
"Tell Rhonda that Robin wasn't badly injured. The Corinthian didn't harm him, just the others."
"Well, yes, we heard about that too obviously. Dreadful."
"Worse than even you can imagine" thought Batman to himself, but, in no mood for further banter, changed the subject aloud "I need something from you Profile, it's directly involved with locating the Corinthian."
Profile was instantly all business again. "I meant what I said. What do you need?"
"Your surveillance material from downstairs, last night."
"What?"
"I want it all. All the videotapes, unedited."
Profile, nobody's fool, immediately guessed what might be the issue here. "Oh my God, you think he was here last night don't you? That he followed the two of you and…"
"I don't know yet, but it's an avenue I have to check out, for obvious reasons."
"If you come across anything on the tape other than the Corinthian…"
Batman sighed, even in a giving mood Profile worked the angles.
"I really couldn't care less, unless it's a major felony."
There was a pause, "Fair enough, it was a quiet night. Where do I leave them?"
"In a plastic bag, on the roof, next to the air conditioning unit. I won't drop in."
"That'd be… appreciated. You scare the clientele, and without the kid doing his floorshow…"
"Profile…" Batman paused, he owed this to Profile if nothing else. "If he is on the tapes, the Corinthian has a reputation for dealing with those who have filmed him, and not pleasantly. You might want to shut up early tonight, and take precautions." Someone as innately paranoid as Profile would doubtless have impressive defences ready and waiting if the need arose. Possibly not enough to deal with the Corinthian, but it might be a start.
There was a distinct pause at the other end of the line. "Thank you for the warning… I think."
"I should add that this applies to your staff and the working clientele, especially those who were wearing the cameras. See they get home safely, or keep them all safe somewhere I don't care which, but one or the other, or else I will want to know why."
With that he hung up and turned back to the monitors.
He spent ten minutes poring through the results of his tests. Even the fishing line and hooks the Corinthian had used to suspend the bodies were the most generic brands available. They had been sold in over a hundred sports stores in Gotham alone for the past three years at least, and there was no reason to believe the Corinthian had shopped locally or recently. There was no dust or particulate traces beyond those that might be found in the rest of a house like Ma Graves.
Any bone contact with a knife should leave microscopic metal fragments in the wound. There were none, and yet the physical evidence of the wounds, the scoring of the bone around the eye-sockets, were obviously those of a fairly wide bladed knife, a hunting model of some kind. The fact he usually killed whilst the victim was beneath him made estimating height difficult, knives didn't leave clear trajectories like bullets did and a lot depended on personal style. The height the bodies had been hung at suggested he was probably over 5 foot 11 but that was as much as could be concluded, and there were no footprints which might fit with the Corinthians general description anywhere.
He had analysed the knots used, hoping they would give some clue as to the pathology of the killer. They seemed irritatingly generic, not indicative of a certain career or personality type at all. It was as if someone had consulted a book of knots at random and used whatever page the book opened at first as a guide. He'd even had the computer run the knots through some of the more common manuals, to see if there was a pattern to the pages. The best he had come up with was that the killer was probably ambidextrous and knew a lot about knots, which was hardly news.
Batman massaged the bridge of his nose, a psychopathic sadist still loose, a rising bodycount of children, no forensic evidence, and no real idea as to the nature of the criminal beyond his modus operandi and a "description" that could have netted a dozen suspects within any half block in Gotham. He hoped Profile's tapes might show something.
Moments later there was an insistent beeping from the computer, the Batsignal had been switched on. He automatically switched on the police scanner, the computer collating recent information into a series of statistical likelihoods, even without that, the name "City Park Hotel" came through in a babble of instructions to and from squad cars, as did the code for the Commissioner being en route. That could only mean one thing …
Batman sighed as he shut down the computers and headed for the Car. He'd hoped to catch two hours sleep tonight, but he'd probably spend that long just avoiding the FBI agents who would doubtless be at the scene by now. He really didn't need more complications right now, but he couldn't overlook the chance to maybe find the elusive clue he needed. The only positive aspect that he could think of was that if he was going to have a bad night, he was going to make sure that any criminals he came across would share his feelings.
As he strode, he was well aware of the two shadows at the top of the staircase, the two figures watching him leave, but he did not turn around nor acknowledge them being there. As the Batmobile roared out of the Cave, the taller of the two silently draped his arm across the shoulder of the smaller, and led him back to the better-lit halls of the Manor above.
The City Park Hotel - 9.40 pm
Batman hadn't expected to have to adopt another disguise so soon after the last time, but it was the only way to get inside without arousing comment and he was in no mood to deal with the FBI in any shape or form. He couldn't become a cop, too many people might comment on not knowing him, too much of a chain of command to refer to. He estimated there wouldn't be much in the way of Press presence, and those that were there would be the hard-nosed, gutter Press who got under cops skin a little too easily to be useful. It was even risky as a med tech, but they had more of a reason to be there, and tended to fade into the background to even experienced cops.
And so there one extra member of the emergency medical team that evening, not quite hiding in plain sight, ready to help with anything that was required, even transferring the body to the bodybag when the time came, and they weren't exactly swamped with volunteers for that job. "Richard Ducard" got a few grateful nods in his direction for that, and he accepted them without further comment.
He saw Smith and Bullock play out their little scene, and wondered how either would react to knowing how close Batman really was, but that would have been somewhat self-defeating. He contented himself with the opportunities for checking for evidence, without actually seeming to be doing anything other than "his" job.
He was not in the room when Gordon and Pulaski conducted their interview, but no one paid much attention to a med-tech sorting through a box of assorted equipment in the middle of a corridor outside. There were enough hysterical people around that a few extra medics weren't going to arouse much suspicion, and chances are no one would recognise a directional microphone hidden inside the box anyway.
Batman was itching to get hold of the card that it was likely the Corinthian had written, but the best he could manage was a brief glimpse of it inside the evidence baggie clutched in Bullocks fist, which ruled it out of bounds.
He also knew he would need to see a copy of the front desk videos, but he could get those through Gordon, and he had videos that there was no way on Earth that Gordon could help him with, and that would have to do for the moment.
He went to the computer console and checked the data from the comparison tests he'd been running. All were negative, as he had expected. There wasn't the slightest trace of fingerprints, hair follicle or any body fluid from the Corinthian from the scene of Brad's death. There was no doubt the Police had been thorough, but even with the Batcave's resources there was nothing, just like all the others.
Clearly the forensic route was, for whatever reason, not going to be of any use in this case. It was time to pursue other avenues, a comment that Pulaski had made had struck a chord, tied in with a comment from Profile.
He consulted a file on one of the computers side systems, and after a moment poring over the contents, dialled a number.
"Hello?" came the somewhat startled answer after two rings.
"Profile. It's me."
"Who do yo… oh of course. Who else? I'd normally ask how you got this number, but under the circumstances… How's Robin?"
Of all the questions Profile might have asked, this was one that even Batman hadn't been ready for.
"Meaning?"
"I hear things, it's what I do. Some things good, some things not so good…things like last night at Ma Graves. About your junior partner not doing so hot…" There was a pause… "Look, Rhonda told me to ask you, okay? So tell me okay, just to set her mind at rest. She likes him and It'll go no further than her, my word of.., well, honour isn't the right word, but you know what I mean."
Batman paused, to give out any information might lead to all sorts of conclusions being drawn, but did he really have a choice here? He was about to ask Profile for something a lot bigger in return.
"Tell Rhonda that Robin wasn't badly injured. The Corinthian didn't harm him, just the others."
"Well, yes, we heard about that too obviously. Dreadful."
"Worse than even you can imagine" thought Batman to himself, but, in no mood for further banter, changed the subject aloud "I need something from you Profile, it's directly involved with locating the Corinthian."
Profile was instantly all business again. "I meant what I said. What do you need?"
"Your surveillance material from downstairs, last night."
"What?"
"I want it all. All the videotapes, unedited."
Profile, nobody's fool, immediately guessed what might be the issue here. "Oh my God, you think he was here last night don't you? That he followed the two of you and…"
"I don't know yet, but it's an avenue I have to check out, for obvious reasons."
"If you come across anything on the tape other than the Corinthian…"
Batman sighed, even in a giving mood Profile worked the angles.
"I really couldn't care less, unless it's a major felony."
There was a pause, "Fair enough, it was a quiet night. Where do I leave them?"
"In a plastic bag, on the roof, next to the air conditioning unit. I won't drop in."
"That'd be… appreciated. You scare the clientele, and without the kid doing his floorshow…"
"Profile…" Batman paused, he owed this to Profile if nothing else. "If he is on the tapes, the Corinthian has a reputation for dealing with those who have filmed him, and not pleasantly. You might want to shut up early tonight, and take precautions." Someone as innately paranoid as Profile would doubtless have impressive defences ready and waiting if the need arose. Possibly not enough to deal with the Corinthian, but it might be a start.
There was a distinct pause at the other end of the line. "Thank you for the warning… I think."
"I should add that this applies to your staff and the working clientele, especially those who were wearing the cameras. See they get home safely, or keep them all safe somewhere I don't care which, but one or the other, or else I will want to know why."
With that he hung up and turned back to the monitors.
He spent ten minutes poring through the results of his tests. Even the fishing line and hooks the Corinthian had used to suspend the bodies were the most generic brands available. They had been sold in over a hundred sports stores in Gotham alone for the past three years at least, and there was no reason to believe the Corinthian had shopped locally or recently. There was no dust or particulate traces beyond those that might be found in the rest of a house like Ma Graves.
Any bone contact with a knife should leave microscopic metal fragments in the wound. There were none, and yet the physical evidence of the wounds, the scoring of the bone around the eye-sockets, were obviously those of a fairly wide bladed knife, a hunting model of some kind. The fact he usually killed whilst the victim was beneath him made estimating height difficult, knives didn't leave clear trajectories like bullets did and a lot depended on personal style. The height the bodies had been hung at suggested he was probably over 5 foot 11 but that was as much as could be concluded, and there were no footprints which might fit with the Corinthians general description anywhere.
He had analysed the knots used, hoping they would give some clue as to the pathology of the killer. They seemed irritatingly generic, not indicative of a certain career or personality type at all. It was as if someone had consulted a book of knots at random and used whatever page the book opened at first as a guide. He'd even had the computer run the knots through some of the more common manuals, to see if there was a pattern to the pages. The best he had come up with was that the killer was probably ambidextrous and knew a lot about knots, which was hardly news.
Batman massaged the bridge of his nose, a psychopathic sadist still loose, a rising bodycount of children, no forensic evidence, and no real idea as to the nature of the criminal beyond his modus operandi and a "description" that could have netted a dozen suspects within any half block in Gotham. He hoped Profile's tapes might show something.
Moments later there was an insistent beeping from the computer, the Batsignal had been switched on. He automatically switched on the police scanner, the computer collating recent information into a series of statistical likelihoods, even without that, the name "City Park Hotel" came through in a babble of instructions to and from squad cars, as did the code for the Commissioner being en route. That could only mean one thing …
Batman sighed as he shut down the computers and headed for the Car. He'd hoped to catch two hours sleep tonight, but he'd probably spend that long just avoiding the FBI agents who would doubtless be at the scene by now. He really didn't need more complications right now, but he couldn't overlook the chance to maybe find the elusive clue he needed. The only positive aspect that he could think of was that if he was going to have a bad night, he was going to make sure that any criminals he came across would share his feelings.
As he strode, he was well aware of the two shadows at the top of the staircase, the two figures watching him leave, but he did not turn around nor acknowledge them being there. As the Batmobile roared out of the Cave, the taller of the two silently draped his arm across the shoulder of the smaller, and led him back to the better-lit halls of the Manor above.
The City Park Hotel - 9.40 pm
Batman hadn't expected to have to adopt another disguise so soon after the last time, but it was the only way to get inside without arousing comment and he was in no mood to deal with the FBI in any shape or form. He couldn't become a cop, too many people might comment on not knowing him, too much of a chain of command to refer to. He estimated there wouldn't be much in the way of Press presence, and those that were there would be the hard-nosed, gutter Press who got under cops skin a little too easily to be useful. It was even risky as a med tech, but they had more of a reason to be there, and tended to fade into the background to even experienced cops.
And so there one extra member of the emergency medical team that evening, not quite hiding in plain sight, ready to help with anything that was required, even transferring the body to the bodybag when the time came, and they weren't exactly swamped with volunteers for that job. "Richard Ducard" got a few grateful nods in his direction for that, and he accepted them without further comment.
He saw Smith and Bullock play out their little scene, and wondered how either would react to knowing how close Batman really was, but that would have been somewhat self-defeating. He contented himself with the opportunities for checking for evidence, without actually seeming to be doing anything other than "his" job.
He was not in the room when Gordon and Pulaski conducted their interview, but no one paid much attention to a med-tech sorting through a box of assorted equipment in the middle of a corridor outside. There were enough hysterical people around that a few extra medics weren't going to arouse much suspicion, and chances are no one would recognise a directional microphone hidden inside the box anyway.
Batman was itching to get hold of the card that it was likely the Corinthian had written, but the best he could manage was a brief glimpse of it inside the evidence baggie clutched in Bullocks fist, which ruled it out of bounds.
He also knew he would need to see a copy of the front desk videos, but he could get those through Gordon, and he had videos that there was no way on Earth that Gordon could help him with, and that would have to do for the moment.