Commissioner Gordon had impounded the crates of weapons sitting in a Gotham pier. Batman, himself, had provided the navigational information necessary to retrieve the balance of the cache from its submerged mooring in international waters. A delegation from a handful of national agencies had already flown up from Washington, proverbial caps in their proverbial hands, to pay homage to Gotham’s finest. He hadn’t seen the Commissioner look so proud and happy in years.
There were only two people not satisfied with the way things had turned out. One was Bruce Wayne, who had hesitated a moment too long making certain that Catwoman had surfaced safely after he threw her in the harbor, and lost Eddie Lobb in the process. The other was, presumably, Harry Mattheson, who had, by now, certainly heard about the debacle on Pier 23 and surely could not be pleased with its outcome. It was possible that Harry believed the unsourced reports that Catwoman and Tiger were in cahoots.
Batman knew better.
A television sat in a corner of Commissioner Gordon’s office. The volume had been muted, but the pictures scrolling across the screen—officials from the Justice Department and the Customs Office hauling that bone table and chair out of the Keystone—told Batman everything he needed to know about Catwoman’s involvement with Tiger from the very beginning.
Batman used the phone behind Gordon’s desk and dialed a direct line to the Batcave communications computer. Alfred was on the other end of the line almost immediately. It took a moment to assure the butler that he was in one, undamaged piece and to explain that he wasn’t ready to come home.