Author's Note: One more chapter of this to go. May write more if well received. Enjoy.
Robin 3
Today Simon Webber is supposed to be assassinated by the Black Talon. Webber is still trying to carve out a career as a politician despite poor public opinion polls and an inherent lack of support. This is why he is making a speech at City Hall this afternoon, one that will announce his intentions to prove himself a reliable by running for election as a member of Gotham's city council. How he plans to achieve such a swing in support or what position he is attempting to install himself in are unknown at present. Currently I am in the office of the incumbent deputy mayor, Wesley Marsh, to offer to stage a fundraiser for his and the mayor's reelection to a third term. I sport a formal grey business suit with a muted red tie to project the right amount of professionalism to my companion. Marsh is young man of around thirty and highly ambitious in his visions for Gotham. Beneath his boyish exterior I have always sensed a tremendous amount of nervous energy, the kind that always hangs its owner in a precarious balance between lasting greatness and utter ruin. Marsh is very receptive to my proposal.
"It's wonderful of you to offer your support Bruce." He tells me with an appreciative smile, "It would almost be certain to boost our chances if we had a benefactor such as you standing behind us." I smile back.
"Well I do so admire your work in this city, Wesley, you and John both. I can't think of anybody else I'd rather have in this city's future in the hands of. Plus, your aide makes some really spectacular coffee." I reply raising my cup in the young aide's direction with a nod of satisfaction. The aide, a boy of eighteen or so, smiles at the compliment. I do of course have ulterior motives for visiting City Hall today. Due to the assassination taking place during daylight hours and likely to occur within the immediate vicinity of this building, Bruce Wayne's annual pledge of support to John Greene and Wesley Marsh's continuing partnership is a perfect cover for reconnaissance.
Since arriving here an hour ago, I have identified and discredited thirteen separate vantage points surrounding the area where the speech is to be delivered from. The Black Talon does not prefer utilizing a high-caliber weapon system such as a sniper rifle: they prefer a close kill. Since it will still be light when Webber begins his speech, it is more likely the assassin will try and murder him either prior to or after the speech's delivery within the confines of the building itself. Therefore I have purposely lost my way to the bathroom twice in mapping City Hall's two-floor layout and potential areas to successfully carry out a hit unseen by either security cameras or other personnel.
Unfortunately my efforts last night did not yield an identification of a credible suspect for being the Talon. I have however uncovered evidence that suggests as Dick alluded to that this is a personal vendetta. The nature of the previous murders and the list of targets lean towards the theory that the killer is a victim of the corrupt officials and violent gangsters acting as puppet masters, including Fitch. Since there are too many victims of the widespread corruption to pinpoint a single standout case, I am almost certain such violent acts of vengeance can only stem from the murders of loved ones. The Talon has lost family or dear friends due to the greed of those individuals on the hit list. For Marghetta to be the scapegoat in this scenario, he must hold the most responsibility for the crimes committed as he will certainly suffer the greatest price: with a serial killer label over his head and life imprisonment in Blackgate, he will be dead within six months.
As I shake hands with Marsh and prepare to take my leave, I am drawn to something strange about his aide. There is an almost imperceptible outline of something in his left trouser pocket that matches that of a prison-styled shiv. It is a perfect weapon for a close-quarter kill, likely made out of plastic to pass through the building's metal detectors and only used when the issue is of a personal nature. It is, in short, the ideal tool to assassinate somebody in private. I cannot be certain that the item is indeed a shiv but I can discount the aide's involvement with a quick background check. First I need a name.
"Excuse me, young man." I say approaching the teenager, "I really did enjoy your coffee. What's your name?" I angle myself into a position to discreetly glance into his pocket. It is a shiv. The aide has a serious look of contemplation on his face, one I recognize from my own childhood. It is that of someone who broods over the past and does not see the future through the darkness.
"Alex Deacon, Sir." He answers with a forced smile. I offer my hand which he takes in his own with a grip that is both firm and strong. It is a sign of developed strength, not natural ability. I smile back.
"A pleasure." I say before letting go. "What do you think of Mr. Webber's intentions to run for an office position? I know Wesley isn't too thrilled." I say to gage his reactions. He just shrugs.
"It's not my place to say, Sir. I'm just the guy who makes the coffee."
"Fair enough. Nice talking to you, Mr. Deacon." I leave the office, put on my black top coat and am on my private radio link moments later.
"Hello?" Dick's voice asks as I walk towards the staircase.
"It's me. I need you to run a background check on an Alex Deacon for me." I tell him leaning on the guardrail as a group of students from a middle school wander across the lobby below led by a strict tour guide.
"You know I'm in school, right?" Dick reminds me. I am aware.
"Yes, it's your field trip to City Hall for Civics class, isn't it?" I say whilst continuing to watch the students stand and listen as a brief history of the building is being delivered. One boy in black slacks and a sweater vest looks distracted by something in his ear.
"Yeah. Aren't you at home?"
"Look up." The boy looks up and his green eyes meet mine. The swelling on his head is less noticeable than yesterday. I wave to Dick from my vantage point. He smirks at me.
"You planned this, didn't you?"
"I knew I'd need you at some point today. Bruce Wayne certainly cannot be seen doing illegal searches in City Hall. I need you to run that background check in the next ten minutes." Dick slowly edges away from the rest of the group so he is not overheard. He averts his eyes from mine and pretends to look at the tour guide.
"I need a computer terminal."
"So find one."
"And what? I need someone's account to hack the files."
"So find someone."
"What if…"
"Dick, a man's life is at stake. I need to make sure I'm right before I act." I watch him consider for almost four seconds before replying with confidence.
"Meet me outside in five minutes."
"And the name is?"
"Alex Deacon."
I terminate the channel and turn without watching him leave. I check my watch: 13:39. Somehow time has grown short. Simon Webber is due to commence his address in less than twenty minutes. My prime suspect, Alex Deacon may or may not be the Talon. It is also conceivable he may be an accomplice, a puppet or on a mission entirely unrelated to that of the assassin. In any case, he is a potential threat to somebody in this environment and must be stopped. Dick is an exemplary student of computer hacking. By the time I am approaching the main entrance, two minutes and forty-five seconds have elapsed. The boy should have gained access to a private account, located the personnel files of all employees in the building, found Deacon's profile and committed the majority of the details to memory. The remaining time should be spent covering his tracks, enabling the firewalls he has taken offline and exiting the room the terminal is in unseen.
I step outside and find Webber and his small entourage already in the process of setting up the podium and audio equipment. A large contingent of media and tabloid journalists are gathering in front of the podium, testing cameras and ear pieces for television coverage. There are too many witnesses for the Talon to strike prior to the speech: someone will notice Webber's absence immediately. The Talon will launch an attack after the address when Webber goes inside the office for a short breather and inevitable meeting with Greene and Marsh to tell them his intentions personally. He will use a distraction to lose Webber's escort then drag him to the room on the immediate right of the main lobby in a camera black spot. Once there, the assassin will make the kill with a silent weapon, likely blade or equivalent to the carotid artery or simply the throat, before exiting through the rear door where a design flaw leads them out into a narrow works access corridor. They will follow the corridor to the fire exit, having disabled the camera and alarm, and disappear into the alleyways. Execution of this plan can be achieved in less than thirty seconds if efficient. The Talon will need to be in position shortly.
"Alex Deacon is an orphan." Dick says coming up at my side. "His parents were killed when he was eleven by unknown gangsters. Webber covered up the fact it was Finch." I look at him.
"That's not in his personnel file." The boy nods his head.
"You're right, but I managed to access his social media profile. He's a conspiracy nut job. He thinks Fitch secretly ran the mayor's office seven years ago and killed his parents over unsettled debts." I nod my head in understanding whilst looking back at the crowds.
"He's right."
"Did Webber cover up Fitch's involvement in unsolved murders across the city?" I am aware Dick is looking at me. I forget he is young: duplicity and its neighbours are not yet part of his generic opinion of people despite the cynicism he has witnessed as Robin. Everybody is two-faced even if it is a subconscious action. I do not return his gaze when answering.
"It was never proven."
"Do you believe it?" He asks. I nod whilst turning to look at the expression on his face: he is troubled by my response. Perhaps he wonders why I allow such a man to walk free if his crimes are so vile. Perhaps he thinks I am fallible, that Webber has somehow defeated my attempts to catch him. More likely he is still trying to make sense of what he has just been told.
"I know it's true." I tell him. I consider an anomaly in his brief. "How did you access his social media profile? It would take an additional two minutes to hack that particular type of coding." Dick shrugs.
"I guessed his password."
"And?"
"It was Simon Webber, all one word." I sigh as the boy poses the obvious question.
"Is Deacon the Talon?"
"No, just someone they have recruited to act on their behalf."
"How do you know? How do you know he's not just a solitary maniac out for blood?" I would inform him I have a gut instinct on the matter, just from our brief meeting, but there is a better way to validate my suspicions. I quiz the boy on what he saw.
"When did he gain employment in City Hall?"
"Last year."
"How?"
"He was given an internship."
"On what merits?"
"Uh, some scholarship program from Gotham City College."
"The name of this program?"
"The Bird-Schwarz Award Scheme it said." I turn to him and narrow my eyes. He still has not quite pieced it together. I coax him gently.
"Schwarz is German for?"
"Black."
"And a bird has?" Dick closes his eyes in realization at the link staring him in the face. He nods before responding.
"Talons."
"Coincidence?" I ask. The boy opens his eyes and shakes his head.
"No."
"Internship as an aide in the deputy mayor's office: is that a coincidence?" I say, knowing he is aware Webber held that same position. The office will hold all private files on Webber's tenure in power. Dick is seeing the patterns emerge, the opportunities presenting themselves for someone of Deacon's mindset. He gives the right answer.
"No."
"Has he been recruited as a triggerman by the Black Talon?" I say. He sighs in a combination of disappointment and sadness.
"Yes." I know he is upset that a boy not much older than himself with similar tragedies has turned down a dark path. He does not wish such a fate on anybody, an attitude that does him enormous credit, given that his own dark moments would have numbed the compassion of any other person, myself included. I pat him genially on the shoulder.
"Good boy."
"Can't we help him?" He says with eyes that beg me to act kindly. I am moved but not to a different action. I must be harsh.
"Not now. Right now, all we can do is stop him from a life sentence for manslaughter."
"Do you need my help?"
"Keep an eye on Webber while I deal with Deacon."
"You won't hurt him will you?" He asks with genuine concern. I am lucky to have such a child to call my own. I know that his heart is always in the right place. I put a hand on the back of his neck and gently squeeze it in assurance of what I say next.
"No. I will merely prevent him from causing harm."
"Okay."
"Are you enjoying your day out?" I inquire in a hope to lift his spirits. I know it is unlikely to work but Alfred said it is important I make small talk whenever possible. He shrugs.
"I was."
"We'll talk later." I say removing my hand and turning back into the lobby. I turn into the room on the immediate right inside the building, close the door and wait. Fifteen minutes pass before Deacon assumes his position by the entrance. Everybody else has cleared outside to hear the speech. He thinks he is alone. I see a gas grenade in his hand, the distraction I theorized on earlier. It appears to be military issue and is at least twenty years old. Perhaps it belonged to his father. I wait. People are beginning to file in. Webber's speech has concluded. I wait for his approach with Deacon. He comes into view, flanked by a two-man security detail. Deacon pulls the pin and throws. The cloud coverage is almost instantaneous and the teenager is quick to act by grabbing Webber. He drags him towards the door I am standing by. I wait for it to open. As soon as it does, I slam it back in Deacon's face, knocking him out cold in the process. Webber breaks free of Deacon's grip as I use his planned escape route to get to the alleyways outside. As I round the corner and emerge back into the street, I see armed police already streaming into the building. The situation is contained, for now.
Deacon may have been a dead-end, but the Bird-Schwarz Award Scheme Dick mentioned is a definitive lead to follow. Webber will be monitored by a police detachment for the next few days when Deacon's shiv is discovered. This buys me the time I need to investigate the scheme and hopefully find the actual Talon instead of his minions before he attempts the hit on Webber himself. Satisfied with today's outcome, I pull out my cellphone. I dial one of my contacts and wait to be connected.
"Hello?"
"Hello Dick. I take it you're being taken back to Bristol Middle School now?"
"Yeah, Deacon's being taken into custody now. I guess the field trip's over."
"I'm sorry to have spoiled your day."
"Don't be. You prevented a murder."
"We prevented it. I'll pick you up from school in an hour, okay?"
"You don't have to."
"I want to. It's important that we talk about what's happened."
"Okay…thanks Bruce."
"See you soon."