Wayne of Gotham (29 page)

A series of popping cracks sounded all around him. A number of mannequins dropped into a crouch on the floor.

Real and unreal. Living and dead. Some of these costumes hold plaster, and some hold breathing killers. Which is which
?

Musketeers, ninjas, cavaliers, pirates, and shoguns rose against him, but they had one thing in common: they held identical kukri tanto machete blades.

“
… So I make this record for their sakes and for the sake of my own soul's peace
.”

“The music's changed but it's still the same song,” Batman growled. “It's time to dance.”

Kane Mansion / Bristol / 11:53 p.m. / October 26, 1958

Lew Moxon stood in his gray cowboy costume with his domino mask, sipping a martini at the side of the dance floor and watching his friend in the ridiculous bat costume dance with the flapper hostess. It looked as though Bruce Wayne was finally making some progress with Martha after all.

Lew had heard rumblings around the Koffee Klatch about something big going down tonight. His father and his old way of running the town was going the way of the dodo. They were all running scared of this Apocalypse boogeyman and were getting desperate.

Let 'em sweat.
Lew smiled, raising his glass to the bat as he swung past him on the ballroom floor.
I've got my ticket out … Thank you, Dr. Wayne!

In that moment, the double doors at the end of the ballroom slammed open. Salvatore, followed by six more from the Moxon gang, pushed their way into the room. Big Eddie drew up his Thompson, firing a burst into plastered ceiling over the screams of several women and not a few men. The band lost the beat to their song and stumbled to a halt.

“Everybody! Down on the ground!” Salvatore shouted over the continued cries. “Play nice and nobody gets hurt!”

Lew slowly sat down along with the fear-stricken partygoers.

“We're just lookin' for a doctor who can make a house call,” Salvatore shouted. “Where's Dr. Wayne?”

Kane Mansion / Bristol / 11:53 p.m. / Present Day

“
… had every intention of attending the event until Denholm Sinclair—then calling himself the Disciple—appeared in my rooms here in Wayne Manor. He assaulted me, rendering me unconscious, and then, using my costume, was able to enter the Kane Mansion under the guise of being me …”

Batman picked up the Confederate soldier, continuing to use his momentum against his assailant. He wrapped his arms around the soldier, who continued to flail with his free arm, trying to maneuver the Uzi into a firing angle on his target. But the Batman pushed against him, swinging them both on the suspending cables. This launched them into an arc, rising higher off the ground as they both cleared a pair of pirates ducking out of the way.

Batman swung with the Confederate, slamming his back into the mirrored wall of the ballroom. He heard the breath of the soldier rush out of his lungs with a satisfying “whuh” as the man went limp beneath him. The Caped Crusader tore the Uzi out of the man's hand, breaking the soldier's trigger finger in the process. The automatic came apart in Batman's practiced hands as he dropped to the floor, rolling to a fighting stance.

“
I was unconscious. As soon as I came to my senses, I knew I had to get over to the Kane Mansion and stop Denholm. Martha was there. I had no idea what he might be driven to do …”

Two pirates attempted to flank Batman at once, while the cavalier tried to distract him from the front. Batman trapped the thrusting arm of the first pirate on his left, using his body mass to add weight to the thrust-kick against the pirate charging him on the right. His boot drove deep into the second pirate's gut, and he cocked the leg again at the knee, raising the second kick higher to the side of the head. The power-armor reacted at once, driving into the second pirate's head with such force that his feet left the ground, pivoting him in the air.

But during the second kick, the cavalier had made a quick advancing step, slashing across the Batsuit's extended leg. Batman felt the Batsuit stiffen suddenly as the reactive armor engaged, and he pulled the leg back behind him and twisted around, still trapping the first pirate's arm. He felt the pirate's shoulder joint slip with a satisfying snap as he turned, pushing his body backward and flipping the pirate over him directly toward the cavalier.

Amanda and her red flapper dress flashed past him among the long red silk drapes and the still-circling mannequins. The shoguns, ninjas, and musketeers were shifting around him, their blades raised as they looked for their opportunity.

Batman became aware of an alarm chiming in his cowl. He glanced down at his right leg. A long gash ran across the thigh of his Batsuit. Black liquid trickled from the cut.

What kind of blades are they using
?

The Dark Knight chose his target—a Union cavalry officer just to his left. He feigned into the man, who swung his blade too soon. Batman dodged, then body-kicked the man in the chest, sending him flying backward and scattering the suspended mannequins. Batman followed him into the thicket of costumed figures and leaped on him almost at once. He drove his left knee into the man's wrist, smashing it against the floor and causing him to release the blade at once. His right hand drew up to take the Union officer out of the fight for good.

His fist did not come down.

An acrobatic blond woman in a dark green leotard had bound his hand in one of the long bolts of silk suspended from the ceiling. A second woman—a brunette—spun down a second bolt from the ceiling with deadly grace.

Query and Echo? Riddler's henchwomen in on this, too? It's as though every criminal in the city is being played!

The musketeer and the ninjas closed in, with Batman's wrist hopelessly tangled in the silk. He gripped the cloth with both hands, trying to climb it, but Echo was shifting around him, wrapping the second bolt of silk around his swinging feet. Batman kicked hard, sending Echo spinning away, but she steadied the spin, swinging back toward him. Query drew in a third bolt of the silk, swinging it around the Batman's torso, under his arms, pinning down the cape.

The swordsmen below began slashing at the Batsuit above them. Batman swung his legs upward, wrapping his feet around the silk above him. This pulled him up out of the way of the slashing blades just as Query swung in again, trailing the long silk behind her. Batman pushed against the cloth with his feet, using his mass for leverage. He struck Query with a solid backhand blow, sending her into a fast spin, but Echo had wrapped his left hand from behind. Batman pulled hard against the fabric—the weave was supple enough that it would not break or sheer.

Guns, knives, explosives … I survived them all only to be immobilized by a web of silk
?

Batman howled, raging against the bonds, but he had nothing solid off which he could push or have any leverage.

Batman could feel the life bleeding out of the Batsuit.

Below him, Amanda Richter swung past, suspended in the arms of a mannequin while his father's dead voice continued to ring through the hall.

“
I came to the Kane Mansion, but I was too late …”

Kane Mansion / Bristol / 11:57 p.m. / October 26, 1958

“Tommy!” whispered the woman in the red flapper dress, shaking as she sat on the ballroom floor. “Please! What do we do?”

The man in the mask and the cape took her shoulders in his hands. His voice was deeper than usual—she would remember it as being affected with the emotion of the moment. “Martha, I'm going to take care of you … I'm going to take care of all of us.”

The caped man stood up and stepped away from the red-dressed flapper. The mob gang at the door swung the muzzles of their guns in his direction.

“I'm Thomas Wayne,” the caped man said gruffly. “What do you want?”

T
homas staggered up the servants' driveway behind the Kane Mansion, his medical bag in hand. He had clung to it like a life preserver when he first spotted it on the sideboard of the Wayne dining room. He had the horrible idea that he would need it.

His head was still pounding from the blow Disciple had given him. His dressing room had come back to him as though from a distant place, and it was a few minutes before the awfulness of what had happened was fully realized in his thoughts. He dressed quickly in jeans and a collared shirt, slipping on his shoes without bothering about socks.

Thomas could see the closed French doors off the ballroom. There were figures inside the glass, but the band was not playing, nor could he hear any other sounds. He was momentarily confused as to whether he should try to enter the ballroom directly from the patio or find another way in.

His eye caught movement through the glass on his left.

Through another set of French doors, Thomas saw two large men lay a third on the couch in the library. He recognized the man at once from the pictures in the paper.

It was Julius Moxon.

Thomas stepped onto the patio, peering through the glass of the doors. The two large men had left. Julius lay alone on the couch. Even from this distance it was obvious his breathing was labored and a shoulder wound was still bleeding badly.

Moxon's men are already here. Denholm must be somewhere about. Lewis must be around. If I can get the elder Moxon patched up before anything happens, then maybe Lewis can help me get these guys out of here before Denholm makes a mess of everything.

Thomas tried the handle on the door. It opened easily and he moved quietly into the library, opening his medical bag.

He had to fix this.

“P
sst! Wayne!” Lewis tried to get the caped man's attention. “Stop it, man! You don't know what you're doing!”

The man turned to face Lewis.

Lewis's buzzed haircut was glistening with sweat as he stood up, pulling off his cowboy hat and patting his head with the bandana from around his neck.

“It's okay, folks,” he said loudly through a forced grin. “Just a little Halloween joke is all. Haha! These boys really had us all fooled. Right out of a Cagney movie, right?”

A few isolated spurts of nervous laughter drifted over the ballroom but nobody else moved.

“Just relax, folks … the joke's about over,” Lewis said as he stepped over to the caped figure. He leaned in close and spoke in a quiet,
sotto voce
voice for the masked man's ears only. “Play along with me, Thomas, and nobody will be the wiser.”

“You think this is a
game
, Moxon!” the caped man shouted, reaching up suddenly and grabbing Lewis by the throat. “The Moxons have been draining the life from Gotham for too long, bullying and muscling their way into every decent life and laughing at the society on which they feed. Your family is a cancer on the city—a cancer I intend to remove with my bare hands if necessary!”

“Thomas,” Moxon croaked from under the man's grip. “It don't have to go down this way.”

“Saulie!” one of the pale-faced mobsters with a Thompson in his hands said. “What do we do?”

“Do we blast 'em?” growled another.

“And make hamburger out of the boss's kid?” Salvatore snapped. “Are you nuts?”

Lewis reached up, trying to pry the hand away from his neck, but the grip was like a vise. It was dragging him backward, his heels squeaking across the polished floor.

“Thomas, stop,” Lewis pleaded, tears welling up in his eyes. “You'll ruin everything!”

“Y
ou getting this, Ryder?” Virginia breathed with barely contained excitement in the cameraman's ear.

“Shut up, Vi!” the cowboy whispered. “I'm busy here.”

The Bell and Howell 70D whirred on. Harold ticked down the seconds in his mind. He had just reloaded the film in the case and had nearly a hundred feet available to him. At twenty-four frames per second that was about three minutes worth, but the clockwork drive was never good for more than thirty seconds a shot before it required rewinding. He knew with unerring instinct that he would have to stop and wind the camera in a few seconds.

This upper-crust Wayne had Julius Moxon's brat by the throat and was actually dragging the guy the length of the ballroom toward the armed goons at the entrance.

Twenty-four … twenty-five … twenty-six … damn it!

Harold released the trigger, flipping open the winding key and twisting the camera for all it was worth. He rotated the turret at the front of the camera so the wide-angle lens was over the aperture, and he raised the camera up.

“L
ower your weapons or I snap his neck,” the caped man bellowed as he dragged Lewis Moxon almost the length of the floor.

“Sure, Doc.” Salvatore watched him with steely eyes. “You heard the man, boys … Relax a little.”

The man in the cape shoved Lewis backward into the group of thugs as he passed between Salvatore and Big Eddie.