Asprin, Robert Lynn – Catwoman – Tiger Hunt (With Lynn Abbey)

The victim, a silver-haired executive whose companies rolled steel on five of the seven continents, was a paragon of manners and self-control. His expression was as cold as the interstellar void. “I’m busy, Bruce. Go play your little games elsewhere, if you please.”

“Bad day at black rock,” Wayne replied, playing his ne’er-do-well role to the hilt. He spied another of his father’s business colleagues in deep conversation near the wall of windows. He bulled his way across the room, pausing only to collect a drink from the tight-lipped bartender. With carefully calculated rudeness, he marched between them.

“What a view!” He opened his arms and flung bourbon into one man’s face. “There’s no place like home—when you’re up here and everyone else is down there—“

“Mr. Wayne—?” A butler—not Alfred, of course—appeared at Bruce’s side. He laid one hand on Bruce’s shoulder and wrapped the other around his wrist. “There’s a call for you. If you’ll just step this way . . .”

Bruce allowed his arm to be lowered and the pinching hand on his shoulder to guide him toward a darkened doorway. Mission accomplished. He had the club’s undivided, but discreet, attention. Within hours the old guard would be asking itself the perennial question: What should we do about Tom Wayne’s son? A few hours after that, Bruce could count on a call from Harry.

But, as it turned out, he didn’t have to wait hours. The door closed behind him, and Bruce was alone in one of the private rooms, face-to-face with a disapproving Harry Matheson. A shiver of anticipation raced down Bruce Wayne’s spine as he divided his consciousness between the actor who would play out the scene and the coldly sober Batman who would be watching Harry with a new eye.