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"Thanks, Jenni," Bobby Beals said as he paid for his morning venti latte. He stuck a dollar in the tip jar and went to wait to pick up his drink.
"Bye, Bobby," Jenni said with a smile. "See ya tomorrow!"
A few minutes later Bobby grabbed his drink and exited the Starbucks he came to every morning on his way to work. He saw an older man with a goatee wearing a Dallas Cowboys ball cap and hoodie approaching the entrance and held the door open for him. The oblivious man was texting on his cell phone and ran right into Bobby, nearly spilling his drink.
"Oh, shit!" the older man exclaimed in a slight Texas accent. "I am so sorry, son. I'm worthless until I get my coffee."
Bobby laughed it off. "Not a problem," he replied. "Didn't spill a drop. Cowboys, huh?"
"All my life," the man replied with a smile.
"We're gonna kill you guys on Sunday," Bobby said light heartedly.
"Not a chance!" the man said. The men laughed together. "Have a good one. Sorry again."
"You too. Take care." Bobby let the door shut and continued his walk to work.
The Dallas Cowboys fan got in line, bought a blueberry muffin and venti coffee and exited the Starbucks. He walked the opposite direction Bobby had come from, going toward Bobby's apartment. The man pulled out his smartphone and opened an app. He looked at the map display and saw an icon slowly and steadily moving. The icon represented Bobby Beals. The man had slipped a small tracker into the outer pocket of Bobby's trench coat when he ran into him.
The man walked another half mile and ducked into an alley. He took off the hoodie and cap, revealing a light tan jacket underneath. He peeled off the fake goatee and threw it into the dumpster next to him. The man removed a short man's black wig and placed it on his head. He removed a pair of fake glasses from his pocket and put them on.
The man went out the opposite end of the alley. When he turned the corner he crouched down to a disheveled homeless woman with a sign asking for change.
"Here ya go," the man said. He handed the woman the hoodie, cap, muffin and coffee.
"Good bless you!" the woman cried in delight. This would be the highlight of her day.
The man walked away without responding. He continued walking through the city streets until he got within a block of Bobby's apartment. The entire time he was walking he kept an eye on the location of the tracker. It had eventually disappeared, which he expected to happen when Bobby went into his office building. Because the tracker was so small it had a weak signal and had to be outside to work properly. The man saw a slightly pudgy blond man come out of a bodega as he walked closer. The blond man nodded and walked up to the Cowboys fan.
"Up and running," the Cowboys fan said in a Gotham accent. "Lost the signal at his office."
"I'll be back in fifteen," the blond man said. He crossed the street to Bobby's apartment building and went inside. The Cowboys fan stayed across the street. He took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one, keeping an eye on the entrance.
Alfred and Bruce had been watching Bobby Beals for three days now, building a pattern of life. Beals had left his apartment around the same time each morning, went to the same Starbucks, and went to his office. He worked less than a mile from his apartment and came home every day for lunch and a power nap. They had waited for three days before trying to bug his apartment. They watched for patterns of people traffic in and out of his building. Bruce didn't want a maid or Bobby's girlfriend dropping by unexpectedly while he was bugging the place. Finding out Bobby came home every day at one had potentially prevented disaster.
Bruce walked into the lobby and to the secured double glass doors that led to the elevators to the apartments. He punched in the security code he had hacked from Bobby's email and walked through the doors. He exited on Bobby's floor and walked up to his apartment door. Bruce removed a matte black metal cylinder the size of a roll of quarters from his pocket. It was a lock picking device he had invented himself. Standard lock picks or lock picking guns took too long and were too loud. They also left scratches on the inside of locks that police would discover during an investigation. Bruce unscrewed the top off the cylinder and placed the opening over the keyhole on Bobby's door. He pushed a button on the side of the cylinder. A strong battery immediately heated a filament which in turn heated a putty-like substance filling the cylinder. The putty expanded quickly out of the tube opening and into the keyhole. It quickly filled the lock, pushing the tumblers into place. The lock clicked open. The entire process took eight seconds. Bruce turned the knob and opened the door.
He stepped into Bobby's place and surveyed the apartment. Standard bachelor's place. A little messy. A Gotham Rogues pennant over the T.V. Bruce looked around for a good spot to place his first audio transmitter. Vents, faucets, and electronic devices such as televisions, speakers, and appliances had to be avoided because of noise interference. The bugs he placed in vents would only provide video. He had to rely on the other bugs for sound. Light fixtures and furniture were ideal spots. Bruce placed his first bug under the coffee table in Bobby's living room. Alfred's fake Gotham accent came over his earpiece.
"Ben, be advised. BALDY is on his way up. Repeat: BALDY is on his way up."
"Copy, Tom. Movement on the tracker?"
"Negative, he just went into the lobby. He's not wearing his jacket. He's moving at a pretty quick pace. He probably forgot something at home. You have about sixty seconds."
"Acknowledged," Bruce said, frustrated. This would be so much easier if Dick and Barbara were helping. The absence of his partners had multiplied the difficulty of operations the past six months.
Bruce looked quickly around the apartment to see what Bobby might have left. He didn't want to hide in a closet or under the bed if the very object Bobby was after might be there. He saw a plastic storage tube for documents lying on the desk in the corner of the living room. Beals is an engineer. The tube likely contains blueprints. He was carrying the tube last night when he came home. Bruce heard footsteps outside the door. He quickly and quietly made his way to the nearby bathroom, saw the shower curtain was drawn, and laid down inside the bathtub out of sight.
Bruce heard the door open and shut. He heard footsteps quickly walk across the the apartment to where the storage tube was. More footsteps. Footsteps into the bathroom. The sound of a belt being unbuckled and a zipper being undone. Bobby Beals began urinating eighteen inches away from Bruce. Beals was completely oblivious to the man behind the shower curtain. Bruce heard him stop, flush the toilet, and pull his pants back up. He walked out of the bathroom and out the front door, taking the storage tube with him.
"He's gone," Bruce/Ben said after a minute of silence.
Alfred/Tom chuckled over the earpiece. "I heard everything, sir," Alfred said. "Except the man washing his hands."
"He didn't."
"Barbarian."
"I'm just glad he only had to pee."
"He just exited the lobby."
"Copy. I'll finish and be out in five mikes."
Bruce Wayne finished planting the rest of his bugs and left the apartment.
Anatoli lowered his binoculars and frowned. He was in a hotel room across the street from Beal's apartment. He had just heard "Ben's" side of the conversation thanks to a laser microphone he had set up and aimed at Bobby's living room bathroom windows. The laser microphone measured the vibrations on the windows created by sounds within the room. The receiver then translated them into audio files.
Who are Ben and his partner? he wondered. Have I or the list been compromised? We're on U.S. soil so they can't be CIA. FBI? Gotham Police?
Their presence had completely altered his plans. It was possible their investigation was completely unrelated to his mission, but he didn't want to take the chance. He had to kill Beals and get the list from him before he could be interrogated.
Tonight. It has to be tonight.