Harley's heart was pounding in excitement as she climbed the steps up to the jail. She felt her whole body shaking, and tried to calm herself, knowing that she had to act as normally as possible for this ruse to work. She didn't want to ruin things for Mr. J after he had agreed to let her help.
She entered the jail and approached the police officer at the front desk. "Hi," she said, smiling politely. "I'm hoping you can help me – I'm a criminal psychology major at Gotham University, and I was wondering if I could take a tour of the jail. I'm doing a paper on the treatment of inmates, and what facilities are provided for them, and I heard you had an exceptional model to follow here."
The police officer was clearly surprised, but flattered by the compliment. "Oh…of course, ma'am," he said, standing up. "I'm happy to show you around personally right now. We can start in the cell block."
"Thank you. I hate to distract you from your important job, but I do feel safer having an officer escort me," said Harley with a smile, as she pulled out her notebook. "I hear some of these men are really dangerous. You have the Valestra gang in here, don't you? I read something in the paper about Batman bringing them in."
"Well, Batman doesn't technically bring anyone in, but he did subdue them during a bank robbery," said the officer. "Valestra and a guy called Napier got away, but they were the only ones, and it turns out it didn't do Valestra any good."
He lowered his voice. "We haven't told his gang yet, but Valestra was found murdered in his car this morning. Someone did a really nasty job on him – he was barely recognizable. If I were Napier, I'd be panicking right about now, with my boss dead and his gang locked up."
"Yeah," agreed Harley, feeling her body tingle at the reminder of what Jack had done for her. "Why haven't you told the gang about it?"
"Well, we figure the gang is counting on Valestra trying to help them escape from here," said the officer. "When time passes and he doesn't, they're going to start to feel resentful toward him – they might even turn squealer about some of his operations as revenge. Even though Valestra's dead, his fingerprints are all over this city, and the more information we can get about those, the better. It might even help us take down the other two families."
"I won't say anything to the gang, but can I see them?" asked Harley.
The officer nodded. "They're at the far end of the cell block. We don't have enough cells for all of them, so they're sharing at the moment, but I assure you that's not standard procedure…"
"It would be good to see the arrangement anyway, so I can note it's an exception to the rule," said Harley, as they entered the cell block. "You have so many security cameras here," she commented, noticing them and taking note of their location in her notebook.
"Yes, ma'am, we have one in every corner," he agreed. "They're monitored constantly to make sure everyone is where they should be."
"Do the inmates get much time out of their cells?" asked Harley, looking around and sketching the layout as they walked through the cell block.
"Yes, ma'am, they have time in the exercise yard before and after lunch," he said. "We just have to make sure they're inside before dark."
"What time is lights out?" asked Harley.
"9 PM sharp," said the officer. "Everyone is locked back in their cells by then, and the nights are mostly quiet. The other week a guard had to take an inmate to the infirmary around midnight for a stomach bug, but that's the most excitement we've had in a long time."
"I'd like to see the infirmary if we have time," said Harley. "But I'm glad to hear that the inmates are mostly well behaved for you."
"Well, they usually hope their good behavior will be taken into account during their sentencing," said the officer. "Not much chance of that with the Valestra guys though," he added, as they reached the end of the cell block where the Valestra gang was held.
"Are these them?" asked Harley.
"Yes, ma'am," said the officer, gesturing to four overcrowded cells. "I can't say I've learned everyone's name yet, so I can't introduce you, but these two are Buzz Bronski and Chuckie Sol – they were high up in Valestra's organization, lieutenants or something," he added, nodding at a cell which only held two battered and bruised men.
"I take it their injuries are Batman's handiwork, and not due to treatment suffered here," commented Harley, as she began sketching out the location of their cells.
"Of course they're from the Bat!" spat Chuckie. "But these pigs are happy to collude with him! I got rights, and they don't include being attacked by a nutcase in a Halloween costume!"
"But all is forgiven if you've brought us this piece as a peace offering," commented Buzz, leering unpleasantly at Harley.
"In your dreams," she retorted. "I'm a college student doing some research on the facilities in this jail."
"Research," snorted Chuckie. "Waste of everyone's time."
"Actually, I think you might be grateful for it in the very near future," Harley replied.
"Why? What do you hope to accomplish with your research, kid?" demanded Chuckie. "You bleeding heart intellectual types are always trying some stupid reform or another, because you're arrogant enough to think you can figure out a way to end crime. Well, lemme tell you something, kid – nothing you're doing matters. You don't matter. You ain't a savior - you're just a sucker."
Harley drew herself up – she was dying to tell him what had happened to Sal Valestra, how she mattered so much that a man had murdered to protect her. But before she could say anything, the officer interjected. "We'll move on to the canteen, ma'am, since these men can't seem to mind their manners."
Harley followed the officer, and felt the rest of the gang staring after her – she knew every one of them would probably act like Sal Valestra had with her, if given the chance. She wondered why Jack was so different, but she was grateful that he was.
When the tour was over, Harley thanked the officer and left. She headed around the back of the building to where Jack was parked, and climbed into his car. "Well?" he asked her.
She shrugged. "It seems really secure to me, but maybe you'll see something I didn't," she said, handing him her notebook. "But I'd leave them in there to rot if I were you. You're better off without them."
"Maybe I am, but there's strength in numbers, and that's what you need in a gang war," replied Jack, taking the notebook from her. He noticed her shaking hands, and wrapped his fingers around hers. "What is it?" he asked. "Were you scared?"
"Scared? No," she retorted. "Not for an instant. I was excited to be helping you. But…the gang doesn't know about Sal. And they were really rude to me, so I wanted to tell them he was dead, and why he was dead."
She raised a hand to his face. "You killed him for me," she murmured. "You killed one of the biggest mob bosses in the city for me."
"And I'd do it again," he agreed, kissing her. She returned the kiss, bursting with love for him, and leaned against his shoulder as he opened the notebook.
Jack flipped through her notes, and studied the diagram of the cell block she had drawn. "Where does this hall lead?" he asked, pointing to the one parallel to the cell block.
"The canteen," said Harley. "It's a big cafeteria room with the kitchen behind it – I've outlined it on the next page."
Jack flipped the page. "This door here leads to the kitchen?" he asked, nodding at the door in the parking lot in front of them.
"That's right," agreed Harley. "Those dumpsters are where they take out the garbage."
Jack chuckled. "What an appropriate metaphor!" he laughed, starting the car and backing out.
"You've got an idea?" asked Harley, excitedly.
"I have, baby," he said, kissing her cheek. "And it's a doozy!"
