Angels in the Belfrey
Part 7
Cheques and Balances
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, Inc. or DC Comics and Warner Brothers.
The envelope had arrived with the morning mail. Rupert Giles almost passed it by but he opened it. The contents left him stunned. He counted the zeroes on the cheque. He counted them again. Only after the third time did it sink in that a very large sum of money had just been given to the Watchers Council from Bruce Wayne with no letter of explanation. Bruce Wayne—not Wayne Enterprises, despite the logo on the envelope. The cheque was from the man's private chequebook and not a company account.
His hands shook as he placed the piece of paper reverently back into the envelope and set it aside. Glancing at the clock on his desk, he realized that it was far too early to be making trans-Atlantic telephone calls. It may be the start of the working day in London, but it was still an ungodly hour for the Eastern Seaboard of the United States, where Gotham City was located.
Just how would Bruce Wayne have learned about the Council anyway? Giles took off his glasses and polished them with his handkerchief. Buffy was currently in Gotham liaising with Willow's computer expert—could she have been in contact with the billionaire? Surely she would have said something in her daily phone calls...
He sighed and pressed a button on his intercom. "Virginia," he said to his secretary, "please get me all the information you can about Bruce Wayne and Wayne Enterprises, particularly any reason why he might take an interest in the Council."
"Right away, Mr. Giles."
He ignored the work that was waiting for him—utility bills for the temporary London headquarters, messages from real estate agents, letters from various Slayers and Watchers from around the world, catalogues from auction houses, correspondence with lawyers regarding Council funds—and picked up the phone. Giles might not want to wake up the billionaire playboy who had just gifted his organization with enough money to buy several permanent headquarters, but he had no qualms about waking up his Slayer.
"If it's an apocalypse, I'm not here," Buffy mumbled into the phone.
He grinned fondly but moved right to the point. "Do you happen to know why Bruce Wayne has just given the Council ten million dollars?"
A thump came through the phone and he heard some cloth rustling. Buffy's voice came back breathless and much more awake. "Ten million dollars? I have no clue why, or even who he is, but he must be seriously loaded if he's tossing that much money around."
"Bruce Wayne, Buffy. He's the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, whose main building is located in Gotham City."
"I—huh. That's a weird coincidence, isn't it?"
"I'd say it is. I don't suppose you might have inadvertently mentioned something to someone who would have told Wayne?"
"I only talked to Barbara—she's Willow's computer expert—and her father, Jim Gordon. He's the retired police Commissioner. I offered him a job."
"Watcher?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of teaching detective skills to the Slayers. I don't think he's quite up to the active Watcher life. He retired from a gunshot wound and I don't think he's ever going to fully recover from it."
"Fair enough." Giles tapped the edge of his desk with a pen. "Do you suppose that there is a connection between Gordon and Wayne? They're both important members of the community."
He could almost hear her frown. "I don't know. I'll see what I can dig up. In the morning." She yawned loudly.
He chuckled at the blatant hint. "Of course. Go back to sleep, Buffy."
Virginia delivered a file folder full of papers to him before lunchtime. He perused its contents as he ate but did not find much too noteworthy: orphaned young, his parents victims of a violent crime to which he was the only witness. Unfortunate yes, but this did not lead Giles to any clue as to why there was a large sum of money given to the Council.
Around three-thirty, he allowed himself to dial the number for Wayne Enterprises. After talking to several different secretaries, each higher up than the last, he was finally connected to Bruce Wayne's personal assistant, who introduced herself as Beth. "I'm sorry, but Mr. Wayne hasn't come in yet today."
"It's ten-thirty over there. How on earth can the owner of one of the largest corporations in the world not be in his office?" When the woman on the other end stammered, he sighed. "And just when does he normally come in?"
"Well, that depends," she answered hesitantly. "If you want, I can transfer you to Lucius Fox, the CEO of Wayne Enterprises."
"I'm afraid not. It happens to be a personal matter. This is Rupert Giles from the International Watchers Council. I received some correspondence from Mr. Wayne that I need to speak to him about."
He heard some papers rustling and some sighs before Beth came back onto the line. "Mr. Giles? Mr. Wayne asked me to give you his personal number if you happened to call. Do you have a pen and paper handy?"
After he answered her in the affirmative, Beth rattled off a string of numbers that he scribbled down on the precious envelope. "That's his home number," she told him. "But if you can't reach him there, here's his cell." After that, she then gave him the phone number for Mr. Wayne's butler, "just in case."
Giles thanked her and hung up. First there was the cheque. Then there was the less-than-subtle provisions to make sure that Giles would be able to contact Mr. Wayne as soon as possible. Giles started imagining frightening possibilities for just why an American billionaire would take an interest in the Council. With most of the old guard dead, there was a very large power vacuum within the organization. Did Wayne think he could buy his way in? How much did he know about the Council? It was with some trepidation that he dialed the first number.
The voice that answered came from an ocean away but could have been from just in front of the Council building, which surprised Giles. "Wayne Manor."
"Bruce Wayne, please." Giles drummed his fingers against his desk.
"May I ask who is calling?"
"This is Rupert Giles from the Watchers Council in London."
"Ah, yes. Master Wayne is expecting your call. If you'll please hold?"
A click came over the line followed by a few seconds of silence before another click and a man's voice cheerfully saying, "Mr. Giles? So good to hear from you. You got the money I sent you, I take it?"
Giles cleared his throat. "Yes, I did. I had some questions for you about that. It's a very large sum of money and one has to wonder about your motivations. I can assure you that if you think you can influence us in any way, you are sorely mistaken."
Wayne had the cheek to laugh. "There are no strings attached, Mr. Giles. I learned about your organization and what it does, as well as your money troubles. Consider it a donation to your cause."
"A very generous donation," Giles observed dryly. "May I ask just where you got your information from?"
"Let's just say some friends. They would prefer to remain anonymous." There was a slight edge of warning in the tone of his voice, at odds with the carefree man who had answered the phone just a few minutes before.
Giles let the subject drop. He sighed heavily as he sat back in his chair. "Well, then, I would have to extend my most sincere thanks, Mr. Wayne. Though we do have high hopes for getting to the Council funds, this will definitely help us out until then."
"If I may ask a favor?"
Giles tensed. Just what does ten million dollars buy in the mind of Bruce Wayne? "Yes," he answered warily.
"Jim Gordon. He's going to London next week to see what your organization has to offer."
Giles hmmmed noncommittally.
"Don't pressure him into accepting anything. Just let him decide for himself."
"Gordon's a friend of yours then?"
"If anything happens to him, you'll find out just how well connected I am." The playboy was completely gone and the phone line nearly hummed with quiet menace.
Despite the threat, Giles had to chuckle. "Message received, Mr. Wayne."
After he hung up, Giles placed the cheque back into the envelope with a scribbled note for Peter in finance. Placing it into his 'out' box, he then flipped through his calendar and circled the date of Gordon's arrival. He wanted to see just what made Gordon so special to make a man like Bruce Wayne, who arguably moved in different social circles than a former police commissioner, so loyal.
-fin-