.
Some time later
.
This is ridiculous.
She knows she has brought it upon herself and could have avoided all the hassle, but Selina is not one to back away from a challenge. She crouches down on the sloping tiled roof, doing a mental calculation of where she must be relative to the rooms below, peeks down, then crawls forward a few more feet and, satisfied that she has reached her target, lies flat on the edge of the roof before lowering herself down, as carefully as the straining muscles in her arms will allow, until her toes touch the balcony railing. From there, it is a matter of a split second to grab hold of the partition with one hand to steady herself and, crouching down again, make a fluid half-jump to the balcony floor. She gets out the strip of plastic she had the foresight to have picked up on her way here and, sidling up to the door lock, pushes a corner into the tight gap between the door and its frame right above the lock, applying pressure until she has two inches of plastic inside. Dragging it down, she feels, with a frisson of satisfaction, the moment when the latch gives and slides back into the mechanism – and, giving the door a sharp push, she is inside.
…to see Bruce standing right behind the curtain, barely out of her line of sight in the dark bedroom, regarding her with an indecent grin as he pulls off the goggles.
"You could've knocked, you know."
"And where's the fun in that?" Of course she could have knocked; or else she could have just walked over to the reception and asked them for a spare keycard, both perfectly easy alternatives once she had discovered, on her way back from the spa, that she had left hers inside their suite… but neither of them quite as entertaining. Besides, she was sure Bruce would sleep all the way up to dinnertime, and thought that sneaking in would avoid waking him up. Well, no luck in that department.
"How long have you been awake?"
"About a quarter of an hour. I woke up but was too lazy to get out of bed, and then I heard you jumping around outside." Impressive, considering that she had tried to make as little noise as possible. "How did you get onto the balcony?"
"Rooftop."
He looks at her with profound disapproval.
"What, not enough metal in your leg yet?"
"We're on the third floor, darling."
"And last time you were jumping from the height of the second floor. Trust me, it would've been enough – "
"OK, OK, I won't do it again. Happy?"
"Hungry," he grumbles.
"Then what are you waiting for? Get dressed, or else we'll miss the after-dinner appointment." She walks over to the closet and pulls out a dress.
"At that rate, I'd rather skip dinner and get a takeaway," he calls after her.
"If we get out in ten minutes we'll have time for both. Stop daydreaming and get out of those pyjama pants."
xxx
It is 8 PM on Tuesday evening, and they are staying in Singapore for one more day and one more night after that, before they fly out on Thursday morning back to Thailand, to spend a long and lazy weekend at a remote mountainous paradise on the Burmese border, a postcard-pretty village called Mae Hong Son. She was hooked on the idea from the moment Bruce showed her the photo of its gold-tipped temples reflected in the miniature lake at its core, though his own reasoning centred instead on the hilltop the picture was taken from, his idea being that the hilltop was a perfect spot for a late evening excursion, meaning, of course, another bout of sex au plein air. She is not in the least inclined to argue… not that they have to wait until then.
Now that the mission has been accomplished and their assorted cover identities are out of the way, they can finally stop pretending they are not married and take full advantage of their status. The most obvious consequence is the fact that they are staying together at the Wayne suite; but apart from what they can enjoy as law-abiding visitors, they have been determined to have fun staying ahead of the Singapore laws by breaking the public decency rules when opportunities arose without getting caught.
She has to admit that their first attempt, getting a ride on one of the Mount Faber Jewel Box cable cars last night, did not quite live up to their high hopes: they discovered, to some consternation, that there was a two-minute stop at a station halfway through the 12-minute ride each way, and seriously, six minutes is really pushing it even for a mega-quickie. Not that they did not enjoy the ride still, not to mention the view… but tonight, they are heading out for an early dinner so that they can make it to the Singapore Flyer ferris wheel, the world's largest observation wheel less than a mile away from the Raffles at the edge of the marina, to take one of its famous 30-minute rides before it stops at 10:30 PM.
And if that one is as nice as they say, views and all, then they will be back on it the following week when she has to spend five more days educating the regional Interpol HQ about the finer points of safecracking, repaying one more favour Theo had procured on their behalf. Bruce, on hearing this, managed to rearrange his plans so he could hang around, making it into a very enjoyable proposition, especially considering that once they are back in Europe they will see little of each other for two weeks: it will be Lyon for her and the Hague for him until the mid-August lull when they are off to board the boat in Liguria to take it south along the Tyrrhenian coast and then east to the fairytale island of Santorini, where Alfred has promised to join them for a couple of days. Pretty busy, but all in all, a pretty good plan.
They are finishing the hors-d'oeuvres at the 70th-floor New Asia restaurant back at their old base the Swissotel. It is the fanciest and highest restaurant in the vicinity, highest meaning, of course, unbeatable views; and, no less importantly, it is even closer to the Singapore Flyer: they can get there in a 15-minute walk or a two-minute cab ride. They have been running through their daytime options for tomorrow, assuming they get up at a non-obscene hour; so far they have agreed to take a quick look at the famous, enormous man-made "singing trees" on the other side of the marina at lunchtime, and are trying to decide between a repeat trip to the bird park and a soak in the rooftop swimming pool at the Marina Bay Sands hotel as their plan for the late afternoon. The pool is a nice idea on a hot day, but their fear is that it will put them in the mood for activities that it will be too public to comfortably permit.
"The park, then," Bruce concludes. "After all, we've both been there, but we haven't been there at the same time. We can stay until it closes… and maybe pretend to have got lost to stay an extra half hour or so."
"Sounds good. You know," she sits up and leans closer to him, "on a different subject, there's something I've been wondering about. When you were talking to the Matrix sellers the other day, what was that high value asset you were baiting them with?"
He grins at her. "Ah, that… I was hoping to be able to show it to you by now, but seeing how you never left the suite until 6 pm and I never left it until now, it had to wait. I could explain it to you, but I think it's best if I show you tomorrow."
She makes a puzzled face. "Intriguing… what, no clues until then?"
"Well, you know how a picture is worth a thousand words and all that? I figure the same goes for the thing itself."
Tomorrow it is. But between then and now they still have the ride to catch.
xxx
"Labour day."
"What's Labour Day got to do with it?"
"OK, Columbus day."
"Ditto…?" she shoots back.
"OK, what's your date?"
"Christmas."
"Come oooon," Bruce chides her. "That's five months away."
"It's been twenty years, Bruce. It can wait five months."
"No, it can't."
"OK, Thanksgiving. That's my final word." She makes a face. "Although I really have nothing to thank him for."
"Nonsense."
"Name one thing."
"Being born."
She ponders it for a moment. Ever since her legit status vis-a-vis the US authorities was finalised in their Presidential videoconference two days ago, Bruce has been subtly pestering her to get in touch with her father, whom, as it turns out, he has traced to his current residence, that same South Dakota farm where he has been living with his second wife, two teenagers and a pre-schooler – Selina's half-siblings – for the past fifteen years or so. She was, to put it mildly, less than excited about the idea, though the mention of half-siblings did arouse her curiosity. But it is obvious by now that he is not letting go of it.
Which nonetheless does not mean that she has to give in easily, or else he will be telling her to call her mother next. That is, thankfully, more of a remote prospect; Bruce has confessed to being temporarily stumped by the sheer number of American women named Emily Williams, and has bemoaned her decision to marry a man with the third most popular surname in the US, with a full 1.7 million of Williamses recorded, and not keep her previous surname. Selina sees it as a reprieve, though, she suspects, a temporary one.
"If I hadn't been born I wouldn't have known it," she shoots back sulkily, "and it probably wouldn't have made a lot of difference to the world as a whole…"
His response is to walk right up to her and take her by the shoulders, looking her straight in the eyes from about four inches away.
"It would have made a world of difference to me." He sounds dead serious. "And I'm sorry about nagging you. It's just – I just think it's the greatest luxury in the world, being able to talk to your parents…"
A luxury he has not had for thirty years.
"Sorry," she says softly, all desire to argue gone out of her. "I'll call him at Thanksgiving, I promise… Maybe earlier."
xxx
"Are you sure about these?" he asks her cautiously about half an hour later, as they are getting ready to go see the trees, the birds, and the mysterious object in between, seeing how she has picked out a rather, well, short pair of shorts for the outing.
Normally he is fine with whatever she is wearing; if anything, it tends to be the opposite, with Selina teasing him trying to get him not to wear black. What in the world is the matter?
"Don't like them?"
"Love them," he responds enthusiastically. "It's just that the place we're going to see this… thing… is a bit on the boring side."
"Ah." Has he decided to buy a museum artefact? "OK, if boring's what you want, boring's what you'll get."
He does not really get boring in the end; what he gets is Selina at her society-lady sleekest, wearing the cornflower dress they once picked out together in Lugano, its relative simplicity the perfect backdrop to the gorgeous pearls she is once again able to wear, its deep colour echoed by the sapphire wedding ring on her hand, his recent gift. The other ring is sitting in a vault back at their company HQ, but wearing nearly a million dollars' worth of jewellery should be sufficient proof of her serious credentials. She would have worn her hair done up to complete the image had she not cut it into a short, boyish bob earlier that morning, tired of the heat and humidity and momentarily envious of Jamie who boasted about never even needing a blow-dry. Bruce was less than thrilled and threatened to grow a goatee in retaliation, until she promised to grow it back after the summer, all the while relentlessly needling him for his Neanderthal male chauvinist taste.
She takes a half-spin in front of the mirror. "Am I presentable enough?" she asks over her shoulder.
"Perfectly. Ready to go?"
"I don't know what I'm ready for," she points out, "but ready I am."
xxx
No, she wasn't quite ready for this.
The walk done and the trees seen, and the birds still waiting, he hailed a cab and asked the driver to take them to Ngee Ann City Civic Plaza on Orchard Road. Try as she might, Selina had no way of figuring out what that address stood for without an online check, which Bruce playfully but persistently discouraged. She was left chuckling at her sieve of a memory when their destination revealed itself as the Singapore JewelFest, a huge annual trade fair and the showcase for the latest and greatest creations available for sale, or for avid window-shopping. She used to remember these things, and Bruce himself mentioned it to her just a few days ago when they arrived in Singapore… but with all that happened in between, she could be forgiven a bit of forgetfulness. He seemed happy to have surprised her, for that matter, and she was not going to begrudge him that.
She is now gazing in impressed wonder at a rather huge diamond necklace in a bulletproof display cube shooting off radiant reflections with every minute change in the light angles as Selina walks slowly around it. Its centrepiece is a positively enormous yellow diamond drop, at least 400 carat, apparently flawless and elaborately cut to maximise the sparkle, suspended off a stylised array of branches, each carrying a large brilliant-cut white diamond at the tip. There must be a total of 600-plus carat in it; no wonder it is called L'Incomparable and the jewellers who made it, who clearly know Mr Wainwright from a previous visit and have high hopes for his purchasing power, have assured them that it is certified to be the most expensive necklace in the world. 55 million US, she remembers Bruce's promises from the Matrix negotiations; yes, it is easily worth that much.
"Like it?" Bruce asks her sotto voce as he walks up to her.
She is impressed, without a doubt; whether she likes it, however, is less of a dead certainty. Whether she likes it enough to have him buy it is, in fact, unlikely. But again, she cannot begrudge him the intention.
"It's interesting," she starts. "Kind of chunky though… so that's what you were going to exchange for the Matrix?"
"As a matter of fact, it was the other way round," he explains, still in a half-whisper, making it clear to the assistants hovering around that their discussion is a private matter. "I thought of buying it before I decided to join the bidding, and then it was a useful bargaining chip, especially the deposit I left."
"Buying it for…?"
"For you." He seems surprised at having to state the obvious.
"Any particular reason?" she looks sideways at him, half-smiling.
"I don't really need one, do I?" He mirrors her expression. "But since you're asking, this past Monday was our wedding anniversary…"
"Oh fuck." She feels the blush burning up her cheeks. "Can't believe I – "
"No worries. We were kind of… busy anyway."
"I wasn't," she points out. "But yes, some of us were busy getting a huge whopping bruise on their chest." Needless to say, Bruce got off very easy, the bruise being the only temporary reminder of Newell's shot; but it is still a good argument to use next time he says something about her being reckless.
"Anyway," he adds, steering the subject away from the bruise territory, "hopefully we'll have many more to celebrate properly."
"Yep, you said it... No gifts though, you've got to promise." The best anniversary presents – the only ones she needs – would be having him, alive and there, to celebrate with her.
"OK… but maybe just this one? Please?" He looks obscenely endearing when he gets puppy-eyed. "Try it on, at least, see if you like the way it looks on you."
"OK, you win, I'll try it on," she responds with a chuckle. "No promises beyond that."
This predictably sets off a rather complicated procedure – the room being sealed off, the guards summoned to stand outside it as the alarms are deactivated from somewhere within and the cube is opened, the assistant donning gloves to gingerly lift the sparkling artefact and place it on Selina's neck. Two years ago, she would have been thrilled.
"What do you think?" Bruce asks.
She looks at her reflection, cocking her head sideways one way and the other, watching the light play on the stones.
"It sure is sparkly…" she begins, and before she can continue with the more critical part of her assessment, the one where she meant to mention its considerable weight, for one, he is about to motion to the manager, no doubt to complete the purchase formalities, so Selina has to quickly put a hand on his wrist to stop him.
"But seriously, I have all the jewellery I want, I swear. I've got the world's most beautiful pearls." Not to mention the most useful. "I've got the world's most expensive, one and only whole-diamond ring." I've got you, which is a trillion times more valuable. "And now I've got a wedding ring. Which I really like, more than this one."
Her mind flashes back to their wedding at Lugano's Palazzo Civico, allowed to go ahead after she had managed to explain the loss of her birth certificate to expedite it by blaming it on the Gotham occupation; a simple, low-key affair, just the way they wanted it, its only other attendees being three men in dinner jackets – Alfred, persuaded to play best man, Lucius, and Theo – and Sylvie as maid of honour, her elegant silk suit an ironic contrast to Selina's bridal outfit of an ankle-length red sundress, the only one long enough to cover her splints and loose enough to let her hobble around easily with a cane.
"It's just a sprig of big rocks," she continues. "Beautiful, but impractical. We can do much better things with the money."
"Such as…?" He sounds intrigued, probably assuming that she has a plan, which she doesn't.
"I don't know…" she begins distantly. "Buying spy databases, for one thing," she suggests as he tries not to laugh. She hands the treasure back to its owners and leans in closer to his ear. "Comunque se mi fai rubarla…" she continues in the softest whisper to make herself inaudible to anyone beyond a two-inch radius. However, if you let me steal it…
She sees the momentary terror in his face even as her reflexes kick in, her eyes providing her with an instant readout of the room and the layout of the security arrangements. Two cameras inside, three outside, one on each door; five motion sensors, the central one probably doubling as a temperature gauge; the cube has a pressure switch and the metal latch acts as a circuit breaker sounding the alarm unless it is deactivated in advance… doable but a pain and might need explosives, or at least the EMP. No, the best way to do it would be to wait until they move it, something like this has got to go to the vault at the end of each day, or it can be apprehended once bought, by ambushing the armoured van, creating a distraction with a couple of smoke grenades, cutting open the back, then getting out on a courier motorbike parked nearby before switching to something innocent-looking away from cameras, like a scooter or a cab. Easy.
For a fraction of a second she is excited… but only for a fraction.
She has too much to lose by now, and a momentary thrill is not worth it. There are things in her life much more precious than sparkling rocks, no matter how big or expensive.
She turns back to Bruce, still looking quizzically at her, with her best innocent expression.
"Just kidding."
.
This is it. Three stories, 26 months, 54 chapters, and almost 200K words later, I bid this extended tale my fondest farewell. I love these guys to bits, and have aimed to give them my best; I am now content to leave them in their happily ever after, with its share of craziness. Thank you, dearest reviewers, for having been my collective muse and for having had faith in me to stick through with this. And thank you to all readers who have made it to this point, for taking an interest in this little corner of the Batman universe.
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I have one last bit of an epilogue to tack onto this, and apologise in advance for leaving things on something of a businesslike note in there. But I've had it written for more than a year by now and might as well stick it in for completeness' sake.
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Notes
1.
I follow the TDKR convention in having them wear night vision goggles; however, something more advanced exists or is likely to be produced soon:
The contact lens that could let you see in the dark: Researchers reveal graphene 'supervision' sensor
[http www] dailymail*co*uk/sciencetech/article-2584617/The-contact-lens-infrared-vision*html
2.
Williams is, indeed, the third most popular US surname, with 1.7 million bearers. I have no idea how many women named Emily Williams there really are, but amusingly, there is definitely one that isn't:
How 'high-level US government agency' fell for fake femme fatale created by two hackers
[http www] zdnet*com/government-agency-compromised-by-fake-facebook-hottie-7000022700/
[http www] dailymail*co*uk/news/article-2486975/How-fake-Femme-fatale-created-hackers-carried-cyber-attack-high-level-U-S-government-agency*html
3.
Mae Hong Son may have come up in an earlier link, but just in case, you can find a few photos at [http] 01cheers*livejournal*com/7614*html – namely, the last fifteen following the Bangkok ones.
I will not subject you to a personally-procured picspam of Santorini, but if you have not been or seen slideshows of it, do look up online images (looking for Santorini and/or Oia, which is its most picturesque village). I figured it was a beautiful alternative to Liguria for their summer holiday.
4.
I will, however, subject willing readers to a non-personally-procured picspam of a really beautiful boat. Finally I have seen something that looks 100% like an interior Bruce and Selina would approve of. It is about half again as long as the 115 feet I allowed him to buy in Chinese Boxes, but we can just imagine some of the spaces being smaller (and I think they can do just fine without a grand piano music room ;) )
[http www] dailymail*co*uk/travel/travel_news/article-2777796/On-board-196-foot-J-ade-mega-yacht-world-s-floating-drive-garage*html
5.
My trip to Singapore was in prehistoric 2007, and by now the picspam I put up of it no longer reflects the latest additions to its highlights. The Mt Faber cable car ([http www] mountfaber*com* ?option=com_content&view=article&id=19&Itemid=11) was there, but the Singapore Flyer (singaporeflyer*com) wasn't; nor were the singing trees. For a more up-to-date overview of the city, check out
[http www] telegraph*co*uk/travel/destination/78902/Singapore-city-break-guide*html
6.
The JewelFest and L'Incomparable are both real. The only tweak I did was to move the time of the JewelFest from mid/late October into, presumably, late July/early August when the guys were there. The necklace was there in 2013; I do not know who bought it in the end.
www*singaporejewelfest*com ;
[http www] dailymail*co*uk/news/article-2443710/Worlds-expensive-necklace-centrepiece-little-girl-pile-rubbish-30-years-ago-sale-37million*html
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