Chapter 10

Wilson Fisk leaned back in his padded leather executive chair, closed his eyes, and steepled his fingers in thought. While Nightwing and Daredevil had made their presence felt in the city last night, Batman had been nowhere. Either Batman was far better at avoiding detection than both his young protégé and Daredevil, or he still hadn't recovered from his injuries.

He opened his eyes once more and looked at the underling standing nervously before him. "You checked with every hospital and clinic?" he asked softly.

The man nodded. "There were some people treated who fit the description; eighteen of them across Manhattan, to be precise. But they all appear to be locals. We're checking the addresses and verifying the insurance data now; we've had to wait for the business day to start for the latter. It does not appear, however, that the Batman received treatment at any known facility."

Fisk considered. "Expand the search to the other boroughs." A new thought occurred to him. "Also, contact our people in Bergen County. Have them check hospitals, clinics, and private practices." He smiled slowly. "Depending on the severity of his injuries, the Batman may have sought medical treatment closer to where we left him."

The man nodded again. "I'll arrange it," he said. "Is there anything else?"

Fisk shook his head. "If your people do find him, they are to report it but take no further action. I'll have a team standing by to be dispatched to his location. That will be all."

Dismissed, the underling dipped his head once, respectfully, before hurrying out to relay the new orders.

"Yeah," Dick said, talking into the phone. "We're going in for noon. In civvies. Bats don't like daylight and going out in costume would be a bit like asking for a fight. Which Bruce can probably handle, but why risk it?" he added quickly, as his mentor stepped into the room.

Bruce glowered and muttered something about not sharing every detail with outsiders. Dick laughed, covered the mouthpiece with his hand and turned to Bruce. "He heard that."

"He was intended to," Bruce shot back.

"He says to remind you that he's a human lie detector."

Bruce's eyebrows shot up. "He cannot hear my heartbeat over the phone."

"He says that he doubts you would have referred to him as an outsider if you thought he could overhear. Do I burst his bubble and tell him that, no, you really can be that unfriendly?"

"Is he coming with us?" Bruce demanded, changing the subject abruptly.

Dick listened for a moment. "No, he's due in court in an hour. But I'll fill him in later."

"I'll fill you in later," he added into the mouthpiece. "Well, yes, but I still thought it would be polite to tell you directly. Yeah. Yeah, good luck yourself." He hung up.

"You're sure you're okay moving around?" he asked Bruce.

Bruce held up a hand, as though to ward off any further inquiries. "I'm fine," he snapped. "Check the menu and let me know what you want from room service. I'll order breakfast."

"Well," Cyborg said slowly, "it's bigger than we thought. Oracle and I spent a couple of hours last night exploring different leads, trying to untangle this whole thing and, as near as we can figure, there are four possibilities. One: Baron and Baron isn't just handling Kingpin's dirty money; they're handling H.I.V.E.'s, too. I mean, they are handling H.I.V.E.'s—that bit isn't speculation—we found the electronic records trail. Two: Kingpin is in bed with H.I.V.E. and funneling their resources into his enterprises."

"Legitimate or criminal?" Bruce asked.

Cyborg shrugged. "Considering that he seems to have the two locked in a symbiotic relationship, I'd have to go with both. That's Fisk's genius, spinning it all together so perfectly that it's hard to see where one ends and the other starts. And his legitimate businesses are so integral to the city's economy that… Forgive me, Bruce, but if Wayne Enterprises went bankrupt tomorrow, it would turn Gotham into an economic sinkhole. If you topple Fisk, you're looking at something similar here in New York. There are plenty of honest, hardworking people who would lose their financial stability in an instant if Fisk's holdings went under."

Bruce nodded slowly. "Daredevil told me as much, the other day. You mentioned four possibilities?"

"That's right. I gave you the first two already: Baron and Baron could knowingly be engaging in money laundering for several clients, with Fisk being just one of them and H.I.V.E., another or, Fisk and H.I.V.E. are working together as partners. However, it's also possible that one of them is using the other. It needs more study, but it's possible that if we were to corner Fisk, he'd be able to come out on top by convincing a court that he's an innocent dupe and had no idea that he was working with H.I.V.E, or vice versa." He let out a long breath. "Patrons, partners, or patsies… We're still not sure which."

"Let us know if you find out," Dick said with a smile. "Anything else?"

"Maybe," Cyborg replied. "Oracle turned up a roster of some of H.I.V.E's key personnel. It would be nice if she'd turned up enough proof to get them locked away, but we can't have everything. Anyway, you might want to touch base with Daredevil on this. Some time ago, he tangled with a ring of computer hackers calling themselves System Crash. One of their members, a woman named Infomorph, was recently released from prison. She now appears to be working for H.I.V.E."

"Interesting," Bruce said. "How relevant is it, though?"

"Three days ago, 'round about one o'clock, it looks as though she used that computer you took apart," Cyborg said. "And it appears that she temporarily connected it to the corporate intranet and sent a file to another terminal in an unused office in a restricted area of Baron and Baron." He frowned. "At least, I think she did. We don't have a visual on the hacker, but I cross-checked the methodology against that of other known hackers in the FBI and Interpol databases and the probability that it's Infomorph's work is greater than ninety-six percent. No other hacker on record even comes close to that likelihood." He paused for a moment. When neither Bruce nor Dick commented, he continued. "As for the restricted location to which she sent the file… The IP of the receiving terminal shows it as assigned to an office in their Private Banking sector. Of course, there's always a possibility that the machine was removed to a different office, but were that the case, there'd almost have to be some sort of trail. Neither Oracle nor I could find a work order or trouble ticket to authorize such a transfer."

"You're saying," Bruce said slowly, "that Infomorph was transferring data to an accomplice. Do you know what she was sending?"

Cyborg nodded grimly. "She was transmitting data on Fisk's financial holdings."

"To who?" Dick demanded.

"Still working on it."

"Thanks," Bruce said. "That's helpful. You'll keep us informed of any further developments?"

"Naturally."

Bruce didn't return Cyborg's smile. "We'll see ourselves out, then."

"Well," Dick said, as they made their way to the dock, where the T-Barges were moored, "that was enlightening."

"Very," Bruce nodded. "Three days ago, when I was collared by Baron and Baron building security and accused of corporate espionage, it was shortly before half-past one."

Dick let out a low whistle.

Matt was cross-examining a witness when he heard his phone vibrating from across the room. He did his best to ignore it, even though the sound of the plastic repeatedly knocking against the wood bothered him more than Foggy drumming his fingertips on the same table.

He kept the phone out of his pocket when in court; he'd learned from past experience that feeling it pulsate against his hip while he was in the middle of an argument was a good way to rattle his concentration. Hearing it clatter from across the room was an annoyance, but a manageable one. He took stock of the situation. There had already been two continuances granted in this case, the judge wasn't in the best of moods, and they'd only just reconvened after lunch. Asking for a recess at this juncture would be ill-advised.

With a mental sigh, Matt kept focused on the witness and hoped that whoever it was who was calling could wait for a bit.

The instant that court adjourned, Matt checked his messages and mumbled something to Foggy about catching him later.

"Matt, we have to discuss tomorrow's strategy!" Foggy muttered under his breath, knowing that his partner could hear him perfectly, even though he was halfway down the hall.

"Later!"

Foggy groaned as Matt strode briskly out of the courthouse and the heavy door shut behind him. "You know darned well I'm going to start tackling this without you," he grumbled as he walked down the marble hallway, "in case you find yourself hanging by your thumbs in some villain's lair somewhere and I have to handle the defense by myself tomorrow. Except you won't. You're just going to breeze into the office around midnight, acting surprised I'm still there waiting for you. Only I won't have been waiting. I'll have been working on the case since… oh, about an hour from now, and when you finally show up, I'll be just about finished. And I won't even be able to yell at you, because you'll be coming from swinging a family of six to safety from out of a burning building… or saving some tourists who blundered into the middle of a gang war… or, or… I don't know, something else that'll make me feel like a first-class heel for being furious with you." He let out a long sigh. "Darn you, Matt. Just get back in one piece."

"Infomorph," Matt said slowly. "That's one name I haven't heard in a very long time."

Bruce made an irritated noise. "That's hardly relevant," he snapped. "What can you tell us about her?"

Matt frowned for a moment, thinking. "She's… difficult to pin down," he said finally. "Sometimes she exists in two dimensions; sometimes, three. Which, as you might imagine, wreaks hell on my radar sense. She's a shapeshifter," he clarified, "able to assume the form and physical attributes of other beings, and often their skills and knowledge. If she isn't a computer hacker herself, she can mimic someone who is."

"If?" Dick asked. "You mean, you aren't sure?"

"Given her power-set," Matt admitted, "it's hard to know how much of her talent she comes by honestly and how much she's picked up via impersonation. Although if it's the latter, those skills fade as soon as she changes back to herself. She used to be part of an outfit called—"

"—System Crash," Bruce completed. "We know that much."

If Matt was annoyed, he didn't let it show. "Good. Their idea was to create chaos by manipulating the information available on the internet."

Dick coughed. "Wikipedia is pretty easy to edit. I've heard tell that some teachers do it all the time, right before their students' reports are due."

"You'd be more on-point if you were talking about doctoring reputable news sites, medical pages, search engines…" Matt shrugged. "Heck, all they'd need to do is mess up Google Maps and they could sit back and watch road rage take over.

Dick sobered instantly. "I hear you. Okay. What about the rest of System Crash? Do we need to worry about them?"

"I don't believe so," Matt said slowly. "Bitmap's natural form was liquid; he needed a containment suit to maintain cohesion. When we tangled, the suit ruptured and he fell into Upper New York Bay. We think he… uh… blended with the waters. He's never been heard from again."

"It wouldn't be the first time that reports of a death were proved to be exaggerations," Bruce pointed out, "but go on. What about the others?"

"Kilobyte and Technostrike were aboard System Crash's airship, when it crashed in the Bay. Also presumed dead. That was the second Kilobyte. The first one is definitely dead—chose suicide over capture. Steel Collar," Matt shook his head. "That one's a tragedy. I truly believe that with the right help, he could have turned his life around. Everyone makes choices and he made a lot of bad ones, but I wouldn't class him as a villain, so much as a desperate man backed into a corner. Unfortunately, we'll never know if I was right; he also committed suicide." He shook his head again. "That one hurt." He was silent for a long moment. Then he sighed. "The only other member of the team was Wirehead. He was sentenced to twenty years and he's serving it on Ryker's. Or, at least, he should be. You might want to have your Oracle confirm it; I wasn't his lawyer, so it's going to take me a little longer to find out the information on my own."

Bruce nodded. "So that's it, then? Seven members; two confirmed dead, three presumed dead, one in custody, and one at large?"

"Yes."

"All right. I'll call Oracle. Meanwhile… See whether the two of you can come up with any ideas on how to flush Infomorph into the open or, barring that, prove that I wasn't involved with her act of corporate espionage. We know she had a contact. Now, we need to find out who."

Back in their hotel room Dick turned to face Bruce. "I didn't want to say anything in front of Matt," he said softly, "but you do know what it could mean, if Infomorph was impersonating you the other day."

Bruce nodded. "She may have picked up my… talents. Temporarily."

"What about knowledge of your identity?" Dick asked. "Would that be temporary, too?"

Bruce's hands clenched into fists. "Unknown," he admitted.

"I take it that you caught that bit about System Crash being in the information business? Because they might not stop at manipulating information. They can buy and sell it, too."

Bruce's voice was tight. "Contact Oracle. She frequently networks with other hackers. Infomorph could be one of them."

Dick patted Bruce's arm. "I'm on it."

At Baron and Baron, a bespectacled man with thinning salt-and-pepper hair and a bad comb-over sat in his air-conditioned office and sweated. He wished that the phone call would come, so that he could deliver the bad news and be done with it. At least, he would have wished it, if he didn't have the awful suspicion that once he made his report, his client would be done with him—permanently.

The call came. He waited until the second ring before he picked up. "We have a problem," he confessed. As he stammered his explanation, he wondered whether he was signing his own death warrant.

When he finished, there was silence on the other end. Then came a long sigh. "We will deal with this matter from here," the caller announced. "Your involvement is at an end."

The bespectacled man gulped.

"I mean," the caller said, sounding irritated, "you don't need to concern yourself further with this subject."

"Oh." Relief flooded through him. "Oh!"

"Well, it's scarcely your fault," the caller said. "Though, we are, quite naturally, curious as to how our confidential business arrangements drew the attentions of not one, not two, but three vigilantes. You're certain that all of your people are trustworthy?"

"I… we're looking into it," the man said, trying to feign confidence.

"Look quickly. H.I.V.E has little patience with compromised security." The line went dead.

The bespectacled man continued to sweat as he tried to determine whether or not he'd just dodged a bullet.

"I've heard the name," Oracle said slowly, when Dick called. He'd put her on speaker, so that Bruce could hear the conversation first-hand. "Not recently, though. I can confirm what Daredevil told you: she's the only System Crash member currently believed to be at large. Not that the belief is necessarily accurate." She made an exasperated noise. "There's one big problem with trying to track down a hacker. If they're any good, they know how to hide their tracks. And Infomorph? Is extremely good."

"So are you," Bruce interrupted.

The faint static on the line that always accompanied Oracle's electronic voice vanished, to be replaced by Barbara Gordon's clear tones. "High praise, coming from you," Barbara said, sounding pleased. "Unfortunately, that may or may not be enough. Think of this as the electronic Olympics. If you look at the scoring after most events, what you find is that final rankings come down to tenths—sometimes hundredths—of seconds. After each event, there's a clear winner, but most of them are too close to call ahead of time. It comes down to who had a better breakfast, who ran with a blister on their big toe, who was too excited to sleep the night before… or overtrained… or undertrained…" She paused for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was calmer. "I'm not saying I can't find her, but it's going to take some time. And maybe some more assistance from Cyborg."

"I'll tell Vic you might call in, then," Dick replied. "Just do what you can and…" he shot Bruce a meaningful look, "if you'll check in with us every six hours or so, I'll do my best not to breathe down your neck. I know that gets annoying sometimes."

"That last sentence was one word too long, Former Boy Wonder. But it's a deal. You keep your partner in check, and I'll call back at… nine-thirty-four tonight with a report. Even if it's 'Nothing to report'."

Dick waited for Bruce's grudging nod, before he confirmed, "You're on."

"I suppose," Bruce said dryly, "you and Murdock are patrolling tonight?"

"He's patrolling," Dick replied with a grin. "I'm just tagging along and protecting the picture windows."

"Huh?"

Dick shook his head. "Nothing. Yes, we're going on another fact-finding mission. I told him I'd meet him around ten-ish, after Babs checks in. Unless you need me here, I mean."

Bruce considered for a moment. "When you operated in this city," he said slowly, "did you have a roster of informants on whom you relied for underworld tips?"

"Usual suspects, you mean?" Dick said lightly. "Not really. When I was with the Titans, we tended to respond more to large-scale threats. If I happened to be taking a swing around the city and I found trouble, I dealt with it, but the Titans aren't really about street-level crime, not like you. Or Daredevil, for that matter," he added, still smiling. "Why?"

"If you did," Bruce said, "I was going to suggest delegating. Let Murdock handle inquiries into Fisk's operations while you deal with System Crash."

"Start at different points and meet in the middle?" Dick nodded. "That could work. And I might not have a roster, but I do have an idea on who to start asking. Or I will." He considered. "Babs is already working on tracking down Infomorph. I don't want to interrupt. So…"

He reached for the phone and dialed a number. "Vic, it's me. Could you shoot me over a list of recently paroled H.I.V.E operatives in the general area? If you can give me locations where they've been spotted, so much the better. Sure, I can wait a couple." He smiled. "Not that I expect every low-level flunky to have intimate knowledge of their organization's financials," he commented to Bruce, "but, hey. It's a starting point."

"Agreed."

"How are the ribs doing?"

Bruce glowered. "I've studied numerous pain-control techniques."

"I know. How are the ribs?"

Bruce's glower deepened. "They hurt like hell, if you must know."

"If we do run into Fisk, I'll give him a few punches for you."

"Be careful."

Dick noted that Bruce wasn't vetoing his offer. "Always."

Barbara called at 9:25, sounding excited. "I think I know what's going on!" she exclaimed. "I think—"

A harsh burst of static drowned out her voice, as the call terminated. Almost immediately, every light in the hotel suite went out, plunging them into darkness. "What in the…" Dick's voice trailed off, as he realized that the room was far darker than it should have been in a 'city that never slept'.

"I think the entire borough is blacked out," Bruce said from across the room. Dick guessed that he was standing by the window, but it was impossible to tell.

"Doesn't the Ritz have a generator?"

There was a moment's pause. "I believe it does," Bruce said finally. "It may take maintenance a few minutes to turn it on… ah!" As Bruce was talking, several small lights blinked on. "I would suspect, though, that causing a blackout was only a secondary goal."

"Causing," Dick repeated. "You think this was deliberate."

"Can you raise Oracle at the moment?"

Dick picked up the hotel phone and tried to dial out. Nothing. He turned on his laptop. "Wi-fi's down," he muttered. He pulled out his cell phone and tried Barbara's number. When that didn't work, he tried Titans Tower, hoping that a local call might go through. It didn't. "Someone doesn't want Babs sharing what she knows," he muttered.

"And they're prepared to blank out the power and communications grids to prevent it."

Dick blew air out from between his teeth. "Wonderful. No comm-link, no computer access…" From the street below came the sounds of shattering glass and wild cries. "…And chaos down below." This was shaping up to be one hell of an evening.