I've been in a bit of a rush to type it all up while the momentum lasted, but now that I am done, I will reply to your recent comments ASAP. I swear :) And thanks again.
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This time the agent does not ask her if she is all right. He watches discreetly, out of the corner of his eye, as she gasps, her hands gripping the armrests of her seat, and closes her eyes to stop her head spinning; her heart seemingly stops beating. She knows he is wearing Kevlar under the shirt; she is damned if it helps her calm down now. What if it did not hold up at such close range?
Gingerly, she opens one eye to squint at the screen. The image is jumping like crazy for another second or so, but when it steadies, the picture resolves itself into a close-up of the back of Newell's head, and is accompanied by a thud and a pained squawk that tells her that Bruce has twisted his arm to get rid of the gun. Another violent lurch later, the view becomes a wider-angled shot of an unconscious Newell on the floor, Bruce presumably looking down on him.
"Bloody fucking hell," Jamie exhales over the intercom, her voice shaky. "Good thing the bugger didn't go for a head shot."
"You said it, kid," Selina echoes, her own voice no steadier.
The camera feed now shows the SWAT team policemen rushing into the office; the sound of the gunshot was their cue to storm through the front doors, and by now they have covered the hundred metres that separated them from the smaller space. "You OK, sir?" the first of them asks Bruce.
"Yep, I'm good. Thanks for dropping by, guys." He could have been thanking acquaintances for a social call. "Take his sack of shit out of here."
As Newell is dragged away, Bruce walks over to the desk to pick up the laptop and disk, but just before he does so, he finally remembers the people watching him from around the city. The picture spins, performing a fast one-eighty, and presently he is seen grinning into the camera.
"Well, that was easy." He is lucky to be beyond her reach, or else he would be physically under attack. "See you guys later."
He winks – again – and shuts off the feed.
xxx
"Now this was unexpected."
"Yep."
It is not often that Bruce is seriously impressed, but this time he is the one still shaking his head, and she is the one agreeing with him. "I must say though, it went pretty well."
"Sure did, bella."
They have just stepped outside the PanAsian offices, and nodded their goodbyes to the guards now stationed outside the building. Outside, it looks like a typical old Singaporean two-storey wooden building, brightly painted with white trim. Inside, they could have been forgiven for having believed themselves transported back into Gotham, what with Newell's nondescript office and conference room being virtual clones of the Gotham Park Row premises they visited two weeks earlier.
The videoconference invitation arrived via Kettering, calling in the open, in the early afternoon; luckily for them, though perhaps unluckily in view of missed gloating opportunities, Wrigley was already on the plane for Singapore, no doubt to claim his share of the victory and get a shot at the coveted Intelligence Star – with little real intelligence in either sense of the word, Selina thinks, to show for it.
And a victory it has been, decisive, quick, and, all things considered, nearly bloodless save for the poor cleaning girl. Mitchum was caught by the incoming SWAT team right outside the Exhibition Centre building, and broke down in a wailing fit there and then, promising to fully cooperate and tell everyone everything he knew in exchange for a more lenient sentence, or at least for sparing his life; so much so that Bruce had to order him to keep his extensive revelations to himself until the MI6 and the CIA were there to debrief him, instead of spilling everything to the local police.
Newell's travel arrangements have undergone a drastic change. He did not have to leave Changi for that, but instead of the international airport two miles west, he was taken three miles south to the Singaporean Navy Base, where he is by now enjoying the comforts of the brig at the somewhat ironically-named USS Freedom stationed there, in preparation to being deported to Guantanamo – a marginally better fate compared to what would have happened if Singapore had had reasons to oppose his extradition, as he would have been hanged for drug possession. The safe at the PanAsian offices held nothing but official papers and petty cash, but once Selina and her MI6 counterpart had broken into his apartment, she found, after a few minutes of recon, a concealed private safe built into the bottom half of the freezer; and when she was through with that one, it revealed, to their not-really-surprised but very satisfied eyes, a huge heap of 100-dollar bill packs, a familiar bag of diamonds, a vacuum-sealed hard drive, later revealed to contain a backup copy of the Matrix; and half a kilo of heroin and a bag of disposable syringes. No way he had bought so much shit just to kill a teenage girl; the man was, most likely, a heavy user, and the desperate need for concealment in a position like his, and for money to fund his habit, must have driven him into debt and prompted his theft. Pretty crooked, but quite straightforward investigation-wise.
Kitty is, so far, the only one to have escaped the clutches of the law, but not for long. She is now known to have boarded the first available outbound flight, but while that saved her from a hanging in Singapore, it will not help her for long to stay ahead of the CIA, once Mitchum starts singing. Selina is almost sorry for the little idiot; her airheaded love of a glitzy lifestyle will now result in her being a CIA slave for life, sent to play bait in whatever unsavoury undertakings they may be up to, under penalty of a prison sentence should she hesitate to cooperate. Oh well; she has brought it upon herself.
"The good thing is," Bruce continues, taking her out of these musings, "we're officially welcome in the States under either name, no strings attached." He is still basking in it.
She bumps a fist into his arm. "I still can't believe you told the President You can call me Wayne, sir... Do you have any idea how condescending you sounded?" She means it half-jokingly, of course, but has her fun cut out for her needling him about it in the days to come. She may be acting calmer than Bruce, but all things considered, it was quite a shock to her when, instead of the CIA top brass they had been expecting, the picture they saw on the other end of the call was one of the Oval Office.
"Well... I did call him sir, you know," Bruce mutters in his defence, but he is still blushing.
xxx
"You look as if you're drinking poison." She watches, with some amusement, as Bruce makes an incredibly disgusted face after sipping from a champagne flute. "Or cow piss."
"I suspect his multibillionaire tastes are too refined for a humble Dom Pérignon," Theo teases him, likewise entertained by the display.
"Stop it, guys." He gives them a look of long-suffering patience. "I told you, I don't like champagne."
"Then why the hell are you drinking it?" Theo asks, pretty reasonably."
"Because that's what you got us."
"I got it because that's what people normally drink when they celebrate."
Bruce is halfway through the demonstrative sigh when she snatches the flute out of his hand and drains it in a long sip.
"Here." She hands him a mini-bottle of Gordon's and a can of tonic from the minibar. "Make your own poison. We'll save the good stuff for when Jamie's here."
They are back at the opulent Stamford Crest one last time; and by now it looks like an uprooted camp, with bags and suitcases stacked off to one side of the open living space, and a bunch of tied plastic bags with assorted trash heaped next to the tiny trash can. Theo is flying out in a few hours' time, back to Lugano and the family, to tell Sylvie an unenviable and patently fake tale of the fictitious Interpol conference – or more likely, knowing Sylvie, to confess what he has really been up to. Bruce and Selina, as a result of her and Theo's plotting, have left their respective rooms at the Swissotel and are, as of tonight, transferring to Theo's Wayne suite at the Raffles. When they finally got hold of Jamie, it turned out that she was also flying out this evening, but had about half an hour to stop by and join them for a drink.
"To the Varese babies." They have just received a text from an excited Gianfranco informing them, in a profusion of exclamation marks, that Chiara has just given birth to twins.
"And to us," Selina adds as they clink the glasses together.
"No, wait," Theo shakes his head at her. "That's a separate toast, we'll drink to it next... Brandon and Giacomo." He looks at Bruce; it seems that the two of them have conspired to embarrass him today. "Who would have thought you'd be a real life godfather." She must confess, it was something of a surprise to learn that Gianfranco and Chiara had named one of their sons after Bruce, or after what they think Bruce's name is, even though they never stopped saying how much they owed them. "Now you'll have to go to the battesimo, and tons of other Catholic ceremonies after that."
"You know," Bruce poises himself for a counterattack, "One of you is next. They say they'll try for another baby next year. And if it's a girl they'll call her Selina."
"They'll call her what?" She eyes him suspiciously.
"Céline, in Italian. If they stuck to the French version, it would end up sounding like Che-linne," he points out.
"And if it's a boy?" she prompts.
The half-smug, half-mischievous look if back on his face.
"Then it's his turn." He tips his head at Theo. "I'll tell them to call him Floriano..."
The words are barely out of his mouth when he has to dodge the champagne cork flying his way.
"You do that," Theo does his best to sound threatening, or at least serious, "and I'll put up a statue replica... you know which one. Full-size. In the company lobby. To greet you every morning."
Bruce is still pondering the prospect when a knock at the door is followed by the clicking lock as Jamie lets herself in.
"You know, I did knock this time." She grins at Selina.
"Come on in. We have three-quarters of a bottle of ten-year-old Dom Pérignon that this ignorant creature is refusing to drink." Jamie's round eyes at the mention of the treasured tipple become even more round at the news of Bruce's resistance; he just rolls his eyes as Selina pours out the champagne and hands the flute to Jamie, who raises it to the three of them. The two champagne drinkers touch their glasses to hers while Bruce salutes her by proudly raising his G&T.
"How's it going, kid?" Selina asks.
"I told you, I'm five months older than you," Jamie responds, mock-sulkily. Selina had assumed her to be a couple of years younger and was surprised when they figured out the actual difference earlier that day.
"But I'm two inches taller," Selina counters.
"That's height discrimination," Jamie deadpans.
"So sue me," Selina shoots back, but both are grinning. "You look different." An understatement, if anything; with her hair dyed back to what must be her natural dark blonde, she surely looks less harsh, though still quite a tomboy.
"Told you, it was just for the post."
"So you're out of here for good?" Selina assumed it was only for the debriefing, and now that Jamie has been officially cleared and the inquest closed, she will be back in Hong Kong, maybe even with a promotion.
"I am. As soon as I get to Cheltenham I'm handing in my notice."
For all Jamie's unhappy talk about the GCHQ, Selina took it to be the bitter grumbling of a temporarily wronged employee that would go away once the truth came to light, rather than permanent disillusionment. Apparently, she was wrong.
"I'm done with spying," Jamie continues. "In the early years I liked it for the challenges. But now... I've had enough of the daily moral dilemmas."
"I know exactly what you mean," Bruce jumps in, and Selina hopes he has the wits to shut up before he says more than he should. She suspects that it may be a matter of time before Jamie, like Theo before her, puts two and two together on the Batman front, but surely there is no reason to hurry her along.
"So what now?" she asks Jamie instead, to steer the subject away from dangerous waters.
The other woman shrugs. "Don't know... they'll keep me at Cheltenham for at least another month, I suppose, debriefing, exit formalities, this and that. And then I'll just lie low. Stay in the UK for a bit, see friends, try to get my boyfriend back if he hasn't given up on me yet, I haven't been back there in months." She chuckles. "Settle down. Become a librarian." Somehow this seems unlikely. "So from now on, you can refer to me as bitch emerita."
"That was hasty judgement on my part," Selina admits.
"No worries." In fact, Jamie does not seem in the least put out. "I took it as a compliment, actually. I'd rather be a bitch than a sweetie."
"You and me both, girl," Selina mutters, but files away the sweetie bit as something she can tease Jamie with if they meet again.
"You could work for us, you know," Bruce remarks, all-too-casually, indicating Theo and himself. "You know we have interests in the UK."
"You mean the LAPCAT project?" She also sounds a bit too casual to be genuinely uninterested. "The passenger hypersonic?"
"That, and a few others. I own a couple of research outfits there through Wayne that are looking into alternative fuels, trying to get cars to run on air, saltwater, and the like, pretty interesting stuff."
"How would an ex-spy come into that?"
"You never know, we might need a librarian." He grins as he continues. "Fundraising and vetting potential investors, for one. With a bit more practice at face-to-face bullshitting," he winks as Theo makes a face, "you'd be a great candidate for approaching interested financiers. These guys I've invested in aren't fully owned by Wayne, and we keep having to shoo away oil and gas lobbyists trying to sneak in with a significant stake, pretending to be angel investors just so they can shut them down. Wayne has spare cash, sure, but this research is pretty capital intensive, and I make a point of donating at least half the profits to charity. So we could use conscientious partners with money. And I'd rather be sure I know who we're dealing with before we sign anything, or even get into serious discussions. I've had... a bad experience with that once." An understatement, if there ever was one.
"I think I know who you mean," Jamie smirks wryly at him.
"I think you do. So to avoid any reruns of that, I could really use a former spy who could to a bit of background checking."
"I won't have access to GCHQ data as soon as I'm out of there, you know," Jamie reminds him.
"You have brains and principles, and that counts for something," he counters. "You don't have to decide now, just... think about it."
By now Jamie is confident that this is, indeed, a serious offer. "I will," she assures him, and try as she might, she cannot quite hide the excitement.
"But you'll have to cut down on the swearing," Bruce adds.
"Look who's talking," Selina mutters through her teeth, loud enough for all of them to hear.
"I mean when meeting outside contacts, not us."
"In any case," Selina cuts in, to save Jamie from further embarrassment, "you'll have to come visit us in Lugano. Especially if you like cars and want to take the Sesto for a spin."
"Holy fucking – " Jamie starts, and immediately clamps a hand on her mouth. "Sorry."
Bruce takes pity on her. "No worries. You should, you know. Though I imagine you probably have an Aston Martin with ejection seats and built-in missile launchers..."
"Make that a Subaru," Jamie shoots back. "It's pretty fast, though."
"Then you'd have no problem with the Sesto."
"You could also try my quad bike," Selina cuts in. "It's pretty fun."
"You drive a quad bike?"
"It's not as goofy as it sounds." She can understand Jamie's incredulity, and pulls up a picture on her tablet to prove her point. "For one thing, this baby's got a Ferrari engine..."
"Holy crap. This thing looks like the Tumbler, the one the Batman was driving and you – "
She turns to Bruce, and her voice falters.
Oops.
"- were making," Bruce finishes seemingly unruffled, though at this point his cover is looking very close to blown. "I know, he stole it from us."
Jamie gives him a funny long look, and to Selina's eyes, she is not buying it one bit; but she says nothing. Instead, she turns back to Selina, all apparent innocence. Taking the bullshit practice seriously already, by the looks of it.
"So which one do you prefer, the Lamborghini or the bike?"
"Neither," Selina says with a grin. There is a degree of truth in that, even though she likes both, for different reasons. "They're a bit too obvious. My favourite is the Volkswagen Beetle that I drive to work."
Jamie just stares at her.
"Céline is a true follower of the Reimann car ownership philosophy," Theo explains for her, "whose central tenet is don't flash your muscle until you really want to. What she isn't saying – " Selina tries to motion for him to stop, still hoping to salvage enough of the secret to pull a prank later; but it is too late – "that it's got a MacLaren engine built into it."
This gets Jamie to laugh.
"You see, I wanted a Mini, or better still, a Cinquecento, but when we tried to get the engine into those, it kept spinning the cars around when doing turns. With the Beetle, with the wider base, you can lower the centre of gravity enough to keep it steady..."
"OK, forget the Sesto," Jamie interrupts her. "If and when I get to Lugano, I'm driving that."
xxx
"Do you think she knows?" Bruce asks sheepishly after Jamie has run off to catch her plane.
"What do you mean, do we think?" Theo repeats theatrically. "It's obvious she knows."
"But I don't think she's going to talk about it unless we do," Selina cuts in. She is feeling more than a little mortified; it was her bragging about the bike that brought up the sensitive subject.
Whether from sensing her embarrassment or for other reasons, Bruce shrugs and wiggles his eyebrows to demonstrate a no-hard-feelings kind of resignation. "I guess it would have happened sooner or later."
"I've been telling you for ages," Theo insists, "just admit it and be done with it."
Bruce shakes his head. "Nah... I'd rather not. I don't want my past life to be endless gossip fodder."
"And you think that flying back to Gotham for a board meeting isn't going to provoke that?"
Bruce smirks. "They'll just put it down to another case of billionaire eccentricity. You know, live as a hermit for eight years, come back from the dead from time to time, that sort of thing... And I couldn't really give up on a chance to fly the hypersonic…"
"So that's what it's about?" Theo teases. "A bit of fancy flying?"
Bruce grins. "That and... other things." He looks serious now, almost sombre. "I figured it was time I stopped pretending I wasn't Bruce Wayne. I have no wish to move there permanently and be another local billionaire celebrity, but you know, I realised that the only way to get over it was to accept it. The Wayne part, I mean, not the other part. I thought I'd fucked it up too badly back there with the reputation I had, but then I figured there had always been people who had secretly detested me no matter what, and I couldn't do anything about that, and didn't really care; then there were always those who knew me and cared about me for what I was, and that wasn't changing either. And then there were those who'd wished me well who I'd disappointed, and the only way to make things better with them is to show up and make amends. I just..." he shrugs again, "don't want to live the rest of my life under a double identity skulking in the shadows."
Usually Selina does not like it when he spouts philosophy, but she loves what he just said.
"So no more Batman?" Theo prompts.
"Nope. Blake's got it sorted out, I don't think he'd let me back there even if I'd wanted. Besides, as you know, I've got something closer to home to get my teeth into." What he is referring to is his offer, joking at first but increasingly serious as they discussed it, to help repay the favour Theo had procured from Bruce's "namesake" the Europol chief by signing on as an electronic crime consultant, an offer that Rob Wainwright has apparently enthusiastically accepted on the strength of Bruce's Wainwright CV and Theo's endorsement, probably also intrigued by the name coincidence. "For one thing, I'll be happier hunting down credit card fraudsters and drug smugglers than dealing with the likes of Director Wrigley." Well, he could say that again.
"Let's see..." Theo's thoughtful voice leaves Selina in no doubt of the teasing that will follow. "You plan to be a major industrial entrepreneur and investor, and a freelance crimefighter on top of that. So how exactly is this different from – "
Bruce does not let him finish, seemingly indignant at the suggestion.
"This is totally different," he insists, waving his hand for emphasis.
"How?" Selina prompts.
"For one thing," Bruce starts resolutely, "I won't be wearing a cape." Seeing their expectant faces, he continues, "and I'll be based in Europe." He seems to be gasping now, the way he keeps opening his mouth, visibly floundering; and the instant Selina's and Theo's eyes meet, they start laughing.
"What?" an exasperated Bruce finally cuts short their merriment.
Selina shakes her head at him. "Plus ça change, darling… plus ça change."
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to be concluded
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Notes
This one and the epilogue both have something of a whopping notes section; as I wrap up I get rather sentimental about stuff I dug up online in the past two years, wanting to bring up all the references in case readers get curious and want to take a look.
I just realised, very belatedly, that FFnet's locking the displayed text means that the addresses cannot be copied and pasted (it wasn't so when I started this plot, but that was two years ago…) I'll still stick them here, but for active links that work, you may be better off checking out the AO3 mirror of this story at [http] archiveofourown*org/works/574533?view_full_work=true
1.
I take a few seconds here to re-declare my love for Wikipedia (it is probably the only non-charity to which I religiously pay an annual 20 euro donation and consider it money exceptionally well spent). Just as I was poking around for a suitable battleship to send Newell off to, I found this gem on the US Seventh Fleet page ([http] en*wikipedia*org/wiki/United_States_Seventh_Fleet)
It was reported on 10 May 2012 that USS Freedom (LCS-1) would be dispatched to Singapore in the northern spring of 2013 for a roughly 10-month deployment. [21] On 2 June 2012 the U.S. and Singaporean Defense Ministers announced that Singapore has agreed 'in principle' to the US request 'to forward deploy up to four littoral combat ships to Singapore on a rotational basis.' [22] Officials stressed however that vessels will not be permanently based there and their crews will live aboard during ship visits.
Couldn't have done better if I had made it up ;)
2.
The stuff Bruce talks about when he mentions his UK subsidiaries is all true… except, of course, for the minor matter of him owning them ;) You may be familiar with the name of Reaction Engines from Chinese Boxes and the earlier chapters here, and I apologise if I repeat a link I pasted earlier (I'll check later but I've got too many), but the most detailed and well-illustrated articles on both Reaction engines and their passenger hypersonic project are:
One step closer to civilian space travel: Engine breakthrough could see jets fly from London to Sydney in less than five hours
[http www] dailymail*co*uk/sciencetech/article-2239665/Engine-test-success-removes-key-obstacle-development-Skylon-space-craft*html
The Next Space Shuttle: Hybrid Engines Make Runway-To-Orbit Missions A Reality
[http www] popsci*com/technology/article/2013-08/runway-orbit-and-back
London to New York in under an hour! Flight Hypersonic is preparing to board (50 years after Thunderbirds came up with the sa me idea)
[http www] dailymail*co*uk/sciencetech/article-2512994/London-New-York-hour-Flight-Hypersonic-preparing-board-50-years-Thunderbirds-came-idea*html
…and of course, the moment there is a technological breakthrough, the military find ways to make weapons from it – Mr Nolan has a point in TDKR, and I have Bruce ranting about it in the epilogue:
Hypersonic weapons and the new global arms race
[http www] theguardian*com/world/shortcuts/2014/aug/26/hypersonic-weapons-global-arms-race-us-tested-prototype
US military destroys hypersonic weapon after aircraft problem detected
[http www] theguardian*com/world/2014/aug/25/us-military-destroys-hypersonic-weapon-alaska
3.
On a less downbeat subject, the stuff about cars running on air and saltwater is not sci-fi, but so, unfortunately, are the lobbyists' attempts to undermine them:
Exclusive: Pioneering scientists turn fresh air into petrol in massive boost in fight against energy crisis
[http www] independent*co*uk/news/uk/home-news/exclusive-pioneering-scientists-turn-fresh-air-into-petrol-in-massive-boost-in-fight-against-energy-crisis-8217382*html
Company that made 'petrol from air' breakthrough 'shudders' at prospect of oil industry approaches
[http www] independent*co*uk/news/uk/home-news/company-that-made-petrol-from-air-breakthrough-shudders-at-prospect-of-oil-industry-approaches-8218812*html
The sports car that runs on SALTWATER: Vehicle goes from 0 to 60mph in 2.8 seconds - and has just been approved for EU roads
[http www] dailymail*co*uk/sciencetech/article-2739768/The-sports-car-runs-SALTWATER-Vehicle-goes-0-60mph-2-8-seconds-just-approved-EU-roads*html
This sports car runs on saltwater—but it's no threat to Tesla
[http] qz*com/261450/this-sports-car-runs-on-saltwater-but-its-no-threat-to-tesla/
4.
The very Tumbler-like quad bike was a fun find – check out the photos to see the resemblance! The Volkswagen is less elegant; the reason I stuck the link here was to demonstrate that Selina's souped-up Beetle is not quite as impossibly crazy an idea as it sounds, but I hope hers looks better ;)
Now THAT'S a quad bike! Ultimate boy's toy powered by Ferrari engine can hit 150mph
[http www] dailymail*co*uk/news/article-2477879/Now-THATS-quad-bike-Ultimate-boys-toy-powered-Ferrari-engine-hit-150mph*html
Not bad for a VW Golf! One-of-a-kind Volkswagen has a 3-litre engine, does 0-60 in less than four seconds… and costs a staggering £3.4 MILLION
[http www] dailymail*co*uk/news/article-2512765/Volkswagen-Golf-Design-Vision-GTI-costs-staggering-3-4m*html
5.
By way of odds and ends,
- here is a somewhat entertaining article showing what dubious dealings former spies get into: [http www] dailymail*co*uk/news/article-2827781/Former-MI6-spy-probed-defrauding-woman-centre-one-Britain-s-toxic-high-profile-divorces*html
- and here is a taste of what Bruce might end up doing in his new hobby ;) [http www] theguardian*com/uk-news/2014/nov/07/silk-road-20-arrest-six-britons
- Finally for this bit, when double-checking stuff on the Swissotel, I noticed that they put up nice new photos at [http www] swissotel*com/hotels/singapore-stamford/media/photos/ including a less-gaudy version of a Stamford Crest suite. For some reason I cannot move between photos in Internet Explorer but have no such issues in Chrome.
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