The Further Adventures of The Joker (38 page)

Then suddenly they were out of it and the big truck was dead ahead, crashed into the center guardrail. And there, climbing from the cab with his chalk-white face a study in fury, was the Joker.

“He’s got a gun!” the Commissioner yelled as the car screeched to a stop. He opened the door on his side, using it as a shield, and tried to aim the riot gun.

Then another figure emerged from the cab, launching himself through the air at the Joker. “Who—?” Megan gasped.

“It’s Batman!”

It was indeed Batman, and he flattened the Joker with a single solid blow. Commissioner Gordon and his driver ran up to cover the man on the ground, as Gordon turned to the caped figure. “What are you doing here. Batman?”

“When I tumbled to his scheme, Commissioner, I thought you might be able to use some help.”

“We found his padding in the men’s room and realized he was disguised as Professor Melrose.”

Batman smiled. “You have it a bit wrong, Commissioner. The Joker was the truck driver. I was Professor Melrose. Hello again, Miss Farley.”

By that time, Clarkson and Wollcott had caught up with them, and the police had pulled the Joker’s bald accomplice from the cab of the truck. Commissioner Gordon surveyed the activity and admitted, “I don’t fully understand.”

“I think you and I had the same idea about the Joker’s plans,” Batman explained. “On his farewell television address he mentioned wanting to enjoy the world of travel and art. This exhibition seemed like the sort of art he’d most enjoy. When I discovered the three men hired to certify the artworks didn’t know each other, it seemed like a perfect opportunity for one of the Joker’s disguises. I arranged with the real Professor Melrose to take his place, expecting that one of the others might be the Joker. I was wrong. In fact, I’d just about given up when the truck arrived with its driver. I thought I saw through the Joker’s disguise but I wasn’t certain until during the loading operation when he told his helper where to put the Monet. The crates had been sealed when he arrived, and they were unmarked except for a number. Only someone very familiar with the paintings would know that the largest was the Monet. When I realized what was happening, I arranged to ride in the truck, shedding some of my padding so I’d be ready for action. When he released his smoke screen, I knocked out his assistant and grabbed the steering wheel. You saw the rest.”

“The museum owes you its thanks, Batman,” Megan told him.

“And so does Gotham City, once more,” the Commissioner agreed. “We’ll try to keep the Joker behind bars this time.”

Tom Clarkson was waiting by his car. “Do you need a ride back to the museum, Megan? It looks as if Wollcott and I will be staying until they can send another truck for these paintings.”

“Thanks,” she told him with a smile. “I’d like that.”

Happy Birthday

Mark L. Van Name and Jack McDevitt

“I
never wanted him dead, you know.”

“Sure, Boss.” Harry’s grin was only a shadow of my own, naturally, but he tried. I liked that. Liked his sense of humor. His ability to see the little incongruities that are the only real pleasures life offers. I liked
him
. I almost touched my boutonniere, tempted to freeze his face forever in that appealing smile. But no: not just then. One day, perhaps, I would do it for him.

“I am not vindictive, Harry.”

“No, Boss. They could never accuse you of
that.
”

“Truth is, I feel sorry for him.”

“Sorry for
him?
”

“Yes.” Harry nodded. I could almost see the bat-shape flickering in his irises, huge behind the thick lenses of his glasses. “You know how single-minded he is. How humorless. He never smiles. Never seems to enjoy himself except when he’s inflicting pain.”

“You can say that again, Boss.”

“I wonder if he has a life away from the rooftops?” Harry’s gaze went past my shoulder. I knew he was looking out the window, across the top of the city. “Can you see him, Harry?”

He shuddered.

I got up and walked toward the fireplace. It glowed cheerfully. “We never really know, do we? He could come charging in here at any moment.”

“It’s a hard world, Boss.”

“Yes, it is. And harder than it need be. You know, it’s always bothered me that I, I of all people, could not provide him with a sense of balance, of perspective. Of what counts in this life. I would like to do that for him. He needs to understand. Life is not to be taken seriously: not mine, not yours, not his. It’s the great lesson.”

“He’s never learned that.”

“And I’ve tried to show him, Harry. I have explained it to him with my boutonniere, I have demonstrated it with venom, I have laughed at him out of the mouth of a .38.” The Gotham skyline was cold and hard in the moonlight. “He lives out there. And he calls
me
mad.”

A log broke in the fireplace, scattering the carpet with sparks. I watched them disappear.

“It’s the world that’s nuts.”

“That’s right, Harry. It’s an evil old world. But that’s not my fault. I stand for laughter, which, in the end, is all we can hope to come away with. And Batman just cannot see that.” In that moment, I was moved. Was there anyone on the planet more in need of my help than that unfortunate maniac? “Perhaps if he could see himself as we see him. If we could show him his true nature.”

“And what is his true nature, Boss?”

I whirled around to face him. “He’s a predator, Harry. A sadist. Vicious. He enjoys watching people suffer. It’s the only time he really comes alive. Have you noticed how his eyes blaze when he’s committing an assault? He’s a lot like us, really, when you think about it.”

“Yeah. But he’s not as good at it as you are.”

“True. But who is?” I threw myself back into the armchair. “Harry, when’s his birthday?”

“Birthday?”

“Yes. His birthday. Even a bat has a birthday, right?”

“Sure. I guess. But I have no idea how we could find out when it is.”

“Well, since we don’t know—” I glanced at the calendar over my desk. “—the sixteenth would be a good date. Yes: let’s call it the sixteenth. That gives us time.”

“For what?”

“To get him a present, Harry. To show him our hearts are in the right place.”

“Oh. You’ve got to be kidding, Boss.”

“I never kid. We’re going to give him truth.”

The wind had begun to pick up. I listened to it rattle the windows, and then allowed myself a good hard laugh. It built until it rocked my body and brought tears. After a moment of hesitation, Harry joined in, not knowing yet why he was laughing, but laughing nonetheless. I like that in a man.

I told Harry what I wanted and left him to handle the arrangements. He was good at that sort of thing.

We hired a lot of people, equipped many of them with portable phones. We assembled a logistics team and alerted our bail bondsmen. If Batman was paying attention, he noticed that there were, during the next few days, an unusually high number of car thefts in and around Gotham. Since we didn’t know where he’d first appear, we needed a sophisticated transport system.

I chose the date partly because it was a Saturday. Plenty of people on the streets. On the fifteenth, as darkness crawled over the city, I set up my command post on the top floor of a decaying hotel off the VanDamm Expressway. Then I had dinner sent up and, since I expected to be awake all night, napped for a few hours. At eleven, one of the three phones on my communication console rang. It was the purple one, the one I’d reserved for Harry.

“We’re ready,” he said.

The stars were remote behind the thick veil of pollution that hung over the city. A three-quarter moon rode among thick clouds. The air smelled vaguely of rain.
His
kind of night. Exciting. I could almost see him, perched on a roof high over the city. Waiting.

“How many?”

“Fifty teams, spaced out every couple blocks, all set to move. They’ll assault anybody in the area. If he’s anywhere in center city, we’ll draw him in.”

“Good.” I love my work. But never more than moments like that. I could feel the electricity. “The backups?”

“Standing by.”

“Okay. Harry, I like the way you’re handling this.”

“Thanks, Boss.”

“Start them.”

Twenty minutes later, the purple phone rang: “We got him. He just jumped Big Eddie at 132nd and Governor. We never saw where he came from.”

I pushed a pin into the location on my city map. “Where are
you?”

“About five minutes away. I’m on my way over there now. Cass and Wocket are watching from McGuire’s Bar. Everybody else is moving to Phase Two.”

“Excellent. How’s Big Eddie doing?”

“Not so good. Cass says he’s just lying on the pavement.”

Nice to know there are things in this world you can count on. Big Eddie had been saying for years that he wanted a chance at Batman. I wished I’d been there to see it.

Harry was still talking. “The boys are going to start a fight, like you said. I can’t see Batman bothering with a bar brawl though.”

“Trust me, Harry. Trust me. You don’t know him like I do. The man can’t leave trouble alone. Just do what I told you. Keep him occupied.”

“You got it. The next unit is moving in.”

“You’d like this, Joker. You’d really like this.”

Yes: I was sure I would. “It’s turned into a riot, no doubt?”

“Damn near. There’s half a dozen fights out in the street. Sounds like more in the bar. Both plate-glass windows are broken. Lotta blood.”

“Where’s Batman?”

“Still across the street. He’s at a call box. Getting the police. It doesn’t look like anybody in this mob has noticed him.”

“Can you see either of our people?”

“Cass is standing off to one side, watching the Batman. I
think
it’s Cass. Hard to be sure from here. I’m a half-block away, and the bar’s gone dark. No streetlights nearby.”

“Any women out there?”

“Yeah. A couple. They’re keeping out of the way.”

“I don’t know what to think, Harry . Women in cheap bars. McGuire’s
is
a cheap bar, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes, Boss. Very cheap.”

“No place for a lady.”

“No.”

“A woman could get attacked in a place like that.”

“I read you, Boss.”

Harry left the car phone on. I heard him relay my wishes to Cass. “No way, Harry,” Cass said. “Not with the Batman standing there.”

“The Boss says
do it.”

I heard Cass grunt. “Yeah, right,” he said. I dislike subordinates who don’t take direction cheerfully. Cass was dead.

Harry got back on the line. “Looks like you were right, Boss: he’s starting across. My God, he’s big. I’d forgotten. Eddie’s cuffed to the call box, but it doesn’t look like he’d be going anywhere anyhow. Wait: one of the broads just went down. Cass is trying to get away from her. The Batman’s stopped. He’s looking at Cass. Now the crowd sees him. Everything’s getting quiet. I can’t hear nothing but somebody crying. They’re getting out of his way. Cass is trying to get back inside, but he’s not going to make it. Boss, he keeps staring at the Batman like he can’t take his eyes off him. And the Batman just keeps coming. Boss, this is happening too quick. We’re not set up yet.”

“You could throw yourself into the fray, Harry. Buy us some time.”

“This is not time for jokes, Boss.”

“There’s always time for jokes, Harry. That’s the difference between us and
him.
Where’s Juliana?”

I was asking about a shotgun-wielding thug who was to be the centerpiece of the evening’s festivities. Though he didn’t know it.

“On his way. But we still need a few minutes.”

“Anybody hurt yet?”

Harry laughed. “Cass is about to be.”

“That’s not enough. Tell Wocket to fire a few rounds into the crowd. Create a panic. That’ll keep him there awhile.”

“Boss, that’s going to make him awful mad.”

“Do it, Harry—”

We got three before Batman got Wocket. Eight or ten more got trampled. No sense of humor, those people. I could hear most of it over the open link. Screams. Cries for help. Profanity. How much better off we’d all be if we could just loosen up.