“No, Gordon. I can get to the bottom of it—at least here in Gotham City. I’ve got the key.” He thought of the icon sitting in the Wayne Foundation vault. “I can lure all the parties into one place, and when I have them there, I’ll let you know.”
Gordon started to argue, then thought better of it. “You know how to reach me. Be careful. To the Feds you’re just another amateur vigilante. If they can’t catch these—who did you say they were, Ga-Ga-somethings?—they’ll be just as happy putting you out of business.”
Batman thanked him for the warning and left.
Chapter Fifteen
“It’s not really in our mandate,” the Director of Wilderness Warriors said between puffs on his pipe.
He was in his mid-forties and, despite the pipe, the neatly trimmed hair, and establishment-approved tweed jacket, he looked more like he’d be more comfortable out in the park, wearing love beads and bell-bottoms, and singing “Give Peace a Chance” through a haze of marijuana smoke. This made his apparent reluctance to do something about the stack of photographs, with narrative paragraphs on the back of each one, all the more disappointing to Bonnie. She didn’t trust herself to say anything or to pick up the photographs he’d returned to her for fear that she’d throw them in his face and wind up without a job. Jobs—even an internship like this that paid next to nothing and required a major subsidy from her parents—were very important to her generation. She expected her boss, as a member of an earlier generation, to be a freer spirit.