Batman and the associated characters are owned by DC. James Bond and the associated characters were created by Ian Fleming. With thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far! All reviews welcome.

Golden Bat – Chapter Nineteen

Belize. The helicopter flew low over the jungle canopy. A flock of scarlet macaws erupted from the forest and flapped aimlessly around the helicopter before settling back down again.

The temperature was intense and everyone was sweating. The pilot and Bond were in the front of the helicopter while Bruce was sitting by the door looking out. After spending so long in Gotham it was a real eye opener. The sky was an incredible clear blue and the sun, even though it was early in the morning, was really making itself known. Bruce slapped irritably at several insects that were trying to make a meal of him.

They had flown over a few small villages. They were a collection of wooden huts on stilts. Pigs and chickens were wandering around scraping for food. Every time they flew over, the people would be running for shelter. Helicopters meant soldiers and not all soldiers were friendly.

Bruce looked at his watch. They had thirty-six hours left. He was frustrated. He wanted to get going, and quickly. However the SAS team they wanted to accompany them to Colombia was in jungle training in Belize. They were there ostensibly to hone their jungle survival skills, find local marijuana farms for the government to clear out, and also to distribute medical kits to the local villages and improve relations.

Finding them was a real pain. They had radioed in two hours ago and were clearing a landing spot shortly. In the distance was an explosion and a huge gap was ripped in the canopy as a tree fell down. The SAS team had just blown up a tree to clear a space for the landing.

Several seconds later the helicopter was hovering several feet over the gap. Four very dirty and mangy soldiers, weighed down with a lot of kit, clambered on board. They looked like real wild men since they hadn't shaved in several weeks and were covered in the dirt, cuts and scrapes of a life in the jungle.

As soon as they were on board they were off.

"So," said the smallest of the four. "Who are you, then?"

"Bruce Wayne."

"A yank?"

"Yes."

"What are you doing there then?"

He shrugged.

Bond came out to join them. "Hello lads. You'll be going on a small job for the intelligence services."

"Not a slime," groaned one of them. "What have we done to deserve you?"

"Apparently you guys are the best." He looked at the bit of paper he had with him. "I tell a lie; it says you guys got volunteered by your Captain."

"Military Intelligence," one of them perked up. "Does that mean beaches and pina colada's? Four-star hotels on expenses? Following some gorgeous skirt for Queen and Country?"

"No, we're going back into the jungle."

"Where?"

"Colombia. We have to infiltrate and destroy an enemy base."

"Oh joy, more jungle!" One of them threw his arms up in the air and walked over to the pilot. "Let me out here, mate, can you?"

The rain had eventually stopped in Gotham, leaving a rather damp but clean looking landscape. Alfred was looking after Tim in the Batcave's medical room. He had never liked having the medical facilities down there since the cave, despite all its technology, was damp and draughty. Still he had done his best with a few partitions and heaters.

Tim was still alive but it seemed like there was something eating him away from inside. He had, very cautiously, tried a few mild electric shocks to try and kill off the nano-droids, but aside from being very uncomfortable for Tim and making Alfred feel very, very guilty, nothing had happened.

He was definitely fading and fading fast.

In the garden of Wayne Manor, a CIA clean up team was hard at work to repair the damage caused by the fight between Speen, Bond and Alvey. A small team was quickly and efficiently replacing the window that was smashed in the fight and replastering and repainting the room where the fight had taken place. Some of the paintings and artwork destroyed in the fight could never be replaced, but some could be restored.

Out in the wrecked garden one of the CIA garden designers was there. "I love what they have done with this garden."

"Yes, but the rock garden ruins the feng shui of the place. It ruins the balance of the garden."

"What do you mean?"

"Here's what I'm thinking. Bamboo."

"What?"

"We plant a row of bamboo pointing towards the pole star. That will align with the earth cycles and create a calming effect for anyone in the garden." The man was getting quite excited about this thought. "We then put in a white gravel peace garden." He started hopping about on one foot in excitement. "This is the clincher. We use curved garden paths to reduce Sha or negative energy and reduce the straight lines in the garden. We then have a nice water feature in the centre and in the flower beds we plant pink begonia's and pink dahlia's in the shape of the Chinese horoscope symbols around the garden like the numbers of a clock!"

The other one looked distinctly unimpressed at this and was looking at his watch. "Or we could just mow the grass and glue the statue back together and then get a few cold beers down at the bar."

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan."

The first one looked at the paper he had with him. "Wasn't there a body we had to get rid of as well?"

"Yeah. Where is that?"

Squadron lines in Belize was a riot of noise. From every bedroom in the quarters music was blaring out. There were engines revving up outside and soldiers running about collecting kit and shouting and swearing at each other in a relaxed sort of way. The air was a welter of smells of sweat, diesel and insect repellent. The sun was making the place like a furnace.

Bruce and Bond walked into an aircraft hanger. There in the corner was a huge RAF VC10 plane. The four SAS men had got themselves cleaned up in record time and had spent ten minutes stealing kit from their colleagues in the squadron. Now they were running off before they got caught.

Bruce had got two of their names: Oz and Kirby. The other two didn't speak much, at least not to Bruce and Bond, but they did look tough and efficient. Their kit was weighed down with weapons and survival kit.

Bruce had his own rucksack with him with the tools of his own trade in it. Bond and Bruce had already had a quick chat. The plan was for Bond and the boys to make a lot of noise assaulting the place while Batman slipped in and tried to disable the place.

Soon the plane had taken off. Everyone on board was putting on their skydiving kit. One of the RAF men was explaining to Bruce what was about to happen.

"You'll be doing be doing a High Altitude, High Opening jump. We're going up to 40,000 feet and doing a night jump. You'll be opening the canopy as soon as you jump out the plane and then floating fifty miles across country to where Blofeld is. It will take about an hour to float down. The parachutes don't appear on radar and the plane will be fifty miles away. They won't suspect a thing. You'll land a couple of miles from the base. From then on it will up to you." He pointed to a cord. "This is your parachute rip cord and this one," he pointed to another, "is your emergency rip cord for your secondary parachute."

The suit Bruce was wearing was a specially heated to survive the freezing temperatures at that altitude. They also had to carry their own oxygen tanks.

"You done skydiving before?" asked Oz. He was a small man with a bristly moustache. He looked like he lived and breathed the army. Practically every other word was either an abbreviation or a swear word and to be honest Bruce didn't understand a lot of what he said. He had already accused Bruce of being a Rupert and throwing an eppie scoppie, whatever that was.

"Once or twice," said Bruce. Two of the others were trying to outstare him. They might as well have tried to outstare a brick.

"It's bad enough taking a spook with us, why should we take a civvy?"

One of the soldiers started making small boo noises to try and freak him out. However Bruce Wayne just stared at them impassively.

"What's in your bag?" said Kirby, grabbing his rucksack. "Ooh, shiny things!"

Bruce picked up Kirby with one hand and slammed him against the side of the plane. "Leave my stuff alone."

Oz drew out a long serrated blade but in a fraction of a second Bruce had grabbed his hand and twisted it out. One of the others made to pull out a gun but Bruce was already pressing the knife against Oz's chest. Bruce shook his head slowly and the other two put their guns down.

Bond walked in from chatting to the pilot and grinned at the tableau in front of him. "Glad to see you boys are getting along. Bruce, put Kirby down please." Bruce relaxed his grip. "Thanks. Mr Wayne here is an expert in urban incursions. You boys are experts in jungle survival and infiltration assaults. Now as long as we don't talk to each other, I reckon we'll get along famously."

A voice came over the tannoy. "We're currently flying twenty miles off the coast of Colombia. You'll have a green light in five minutes. Good luck, boys."

Alfred was bustling around his small kitchen in his quarters making up a few mugs of coffee for the CIA clean up team. Tim was currently asleep and there was nothing much more he could for him. He would make sure the work team were happy and not doing anything they shouldn't be. Once when they had a team of workers in the mansion repairing the damage from Bane's visit they nearly uncovered the entrance to the cave. It was only some well-timed coffee, home made cookies and fainting in front of them that distracted them.

He looked down at the bit of paper he had. Two with sugar. One without. One with chocolate chip shavings and sugar. Now were the ones with sugar with milk as well? Oh well, he could take the milk carton with him and they could work it out themselves.

He loaded up the tray with various other biscuits and cookies and glided out of the kitchen. Miranda had gone to stay with relatives in the country until this problem was sorted out. Selina seemed to have disappeared. But with her that was no surprise. She was very much her own woman.

He walked out into the corridor. The delicious smell of percolating coffee was permeating the air. Although he still drank lots of tea he was starting to enjoy a decent coffee.

It certainly seemed quiet up ahead. The bustle of work team repairing the damage to the window and the room seemed to have died down. They can't have finished already can they? His foot felt sticky. He looked down to see a pool of blood. The mugs started to rattle on the tray as he shook. He looked around the corner to see the bodies of the CIA clean up team.

Bond had picked up a small bag from the British Embassy when he was in Belize. It was full of gadgets from Q branch. He was just familiarising himself with them.

Standard knockout gas, replacement Walter P99, grappling hooks, insect repellant, factor 25 sun block and an explosives tester. He looked at it curiously. This was a new piece of kit. He switched it on and it started beeping at him. He switched if off again and it was quiet. He switched it back on again and started walking about the plane with it. The beeping got louder and louder as he walked up the plane.

With a sick feeling in his stomach he lifted up one of the floor gratings in the plane and there he could see it. There was a bomb welded to the airplane frame, so he couldn't even throw it out. There was a small digital readout. Four minutes left… In a second he took in the important details. Mercury trip switch, and dual powered. If he so much as touched it, it could explode.

He ran to the cockpit. "Have you two got any spare oxygen tanks and parachutes?"

"Yes, why?"

"Get them on, now!"

"We're flying a plane."

"You'll be flying nothing soon. Someone's attached a bomb to the frame. We need to get out of here now!"

"A bomb? Seriously?"

"Get ready. We've got to go!"

Three minutes later the pilots were suited and booted and ready to jump. Kirby, Oz and Wayne had all looked at the bomb and they had all decided against playing with it. It was a real professional job. Someone did not want this plane to come back.

With a whining sound the door opened at the back of the plane and the men all lined up to jump. The wind started pulling at Bond's jump suit. He checked his kit bag again to make sure it was packed right. If it wasn't and he got off balance he could get into a deadly spin. The sky was a velvet black colour with pinpricks of stars. Bond looked at his watch. Just twenty-four hours left…

Bruce Wayne jumped out first. A split second later, Oz, then the other soldiers and pilots. Bond was last. He jumped out of the plane and yanked the cord. With a thump sound the canopy opened and he was jerked upwards. Below him he could see the canopies of the others.

In the distance he could see the plane disappear when it exploded in a ball of flame. Bits of flaming debris arced in the sky. He heard the whistling sound of fragments fly past him. He looked up and could see a couple of small scorched holes in his parachute. In seconds the light from the explosion disappeared so that now all he could see was the stars. The silence was breathtaking. There was just the gentle whistle of the breeze and the occasional sounds of his canopy creaking.

He had been given a GPS tracker to home in on their target. Their equipment was tied in a bag hanging from a rope beneath their feet. Below him he could see, by the light of the moon, the white lines of the surf on the sea as it broke against the coast. Several small fishing villages were dotted along the coast and he could see the lights flickering below. He could even see car headlights. People carrying on their lives little suspecting who was floating above their heads?

He could start to hear the sounds of dogs barking below. They were still about 20,000 feet and had another half an hour to go. He looked below and could see that one of the pilots was in trouble. His parachute had somehow got twisted and ripped, he assumed from the debris of the exploding plane. Why wasn't he doing anything about it? Without warning the parachute tore off him and the man fell to the earth like a stone.

Bond pressed the release switch in the middle of his webbing and fell from his own parachute towards the pilot. He bent his arms back against his body to increase his speed and catch up with the falling man.

He could not believe he was risking his life for another. He was being a fool. If the pilot couldn't parachute properly that was his lookout not his. Just a few weeks ago he would not have risked the mission for one man. He nearly lost sight of the falling pilot because of the darkness. The wind pushed his goggles into his face and dried his mouth up as he increased in speed.

He was falling incredibly quickly. The pilot ahead of him seemed to be unconscious or something? He caught up with the man and looked in shock at his head. There was a bullet wound in his forehead. He was about ten thousand feet from the ground now. He pulled his emergency ripcord for his secondary parachute and felt his stomach lurch in fear as nothing happened…