Summary: All the players finally come together in the same locked room. (The exciting conclusion.)

Note: Thanks to Sandra and Alexandra for the beta-help. I couldn't have done it without their insightful help.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All the characters are owned by DC Comics and Time/Warner; this is an original story that does not intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome!

Copyright: April 2003

By Syl Francis

Saturday, March 22/01:15am

Wayne Manor

Gotham City

"What kind of Twilight Zone episode is this?" Catwoman demanded of no one in particular. Turning towards the door from which they'd entered, she glanced at Barbara. "Sorry, Red, but I can't stick around. I've gotta date with a Bat, and I don't intend on staying here long enough to keep it."

"In that case, what if I take you home?"

Catwoman whirled at the sound of the voice. "Barber?" she hissed. "What're you doing here?"

"She knows you?" Dicky demanded. He looked up at Barber suspiciously.

"The question, Catwoman," Barber retorted, "is what are you doing here? This wasn't the deal we had."

"You had a deal with her?" Dicky asked. His initial suspicion quickly changed to anger. He'd been tricked. Barber really was one of the bad guys.

"You should know by now, Barber, that I make my own deals. These diamonds are important to Joey, so...they're important to me."

"They're also important to Uncle Sam! We had a deal, Catwoman!" Barber repeated. "You help us get the goods on Thorne and in exchange you get a full Presidential pardon-!" Barber was cut short when Catwoman unexpectedly cracked her whip and caught him by his good leg.

"Be that as it may-!" Catwoman said, unceremoniously yanking him off his feet.

"Hey-!" Barber cried out as he went flying. His head slammed against the wall with an audible thud. He slid down unmoving to the floor, his body crumpled where he fell.

"-But I prefer the diamonds over the pardon," she finished. Catwoman walked up to the unconscious form and poked him in the ribs with her toe.

"That's what I like about you, Selina. You never change." They all whirled towards the sound of the new voice-Joey! Smirk firmly in place, Joey rather casually waved a mean-looking handgun that Dicky instantly recognized as an Uzi semi-automatic pistol. "Drop it!" he ordered, indicating Catwoman's cat-o'-nine-tails. Grimacing in self-disgust, Catwoman tossed it aside.

Watching the proceedings with keen interest, Dicky noticed that the whip landed within reach of the famed jewel thief. He glanced quickly at Joey and saw that this small fact had completely escaped the gunman. The trick will be-getting to the whip first, Dicky thought.

Eyes on Catwoman, Joey waved Dicky and Alfred towards the sofa where Barbara lay. Both did as ordered without argument. Dicky sat close to the far edge in an attempt to get as near as possible to the whip.

"Selina, I think you have something that belongs to me." Joey nodded at the carryall slung over her shoulder.

"I do?" Catwoman gave him her most ingenuous expression. "What could I possibly have that belongs to you, Joey? I mean, almost everything you have you stole from me or someone else."

"The bag, Selina!" Joey snapped, his patience at an end. "Hand it over-now!" This time he aimed the gun directly at her.

Catwoman looked down at the carryall in feigned surprise. "Joey, this is my bag. You've seen it before. It's the one I carry on all my jobs."

"You know what I'm talking about, Selina. My bag. I know you put it inside your carryall." He grinned menacingly. "Like you said...It's the one you take on all your jobs." He made a threatening gesture with the pistol. "I want you to reach in the carryall and pull out my case.

Catwoman nodded and was about to reach in, when Joey stopped her.

"Uh-uh-uh!" he warned. "Use your left hand, Selina! And I don't really have to warn you to go real slow, do I?" Not bothering to answer him, Catwoman did as told. Dicky watched, fascinated as Catwoman reached in slowly and carefully pulled out the black overnight case from the larger carryall. Catwoman feigned surprise as she did so.

"Now how did that get in there?" she asked innocently. "Is this your bag, Joey?" She gave him a disarming smile and a shrug. "Well, why didn't you say so? If I'd've known it was yours, why I never-"

"Cut the bull, Selina, and hand it over!" Joey interrupted sharply, his impatience growing. "Do it, or I swear I'll shoot!" Catwoman shook her head and tsked.

"And you would, wouldn't you? A dirty, double-crossing louse through and through...all the way to the end," she said matter-of-factly. "You want this?" Catwoman held up the bag. "Okay...Take it!" Abruptly, Catwoman flung the bag at Joey, who fired in reflex. Then, several things happened simultaneously-

Alfred grabbed Barbara and pulled her off the couch, out of harm's way.

Catwoman dove behind the couch, just escaping being hit by Joey's stray bullets.

Dicky dove for the whip, lying less than a foot away. Rolling he quickly came up with it in hand. Holding it like Jacques, Simba's trainer had taught him, Dicky cracked it. Immediately the cat-o'-nine-tails wrapped itself tightly around Joey's gun wrist, and the junior superhero pulled.

Joey cried out as the whip's sharp ends stung his unprotected wrist. Although off balance, he managed to keep his hold on the gun and was soon firing wildly, his shots raining hot lead all around them.

Through the chaos, Dicky heard Barbara's muffled scream. He risked a quick glance in her direction and saw that Alfred was shielding her under the protection of his own body. Somehow, the loyal butler had dragged her under an antique accent table decorated with a colorful Tiffany lamp. At that moment, the Tiffany lamp exploded into a thousand pieces. Startled, Barbara again screamed.

Dicky's resolve escalated a notch. He had to protect Barbara and Alfred. They were his responsibility. Knowing he was in danger of being hit by a stray bullet, Dicky refused to let go of his end of the whip.

Meanwhile, Barber had regained consciousness while the little drama between Catwoman and Joey played itself out in front of him. Barber had watched them, biding his time until he saw an opening. Now, he jumped up and took a flying leap that recalled his former high school football days, tackling Joey to the floor. The force yanked the whip from Dicky's hand, causing him to fall back momentarily off-balance.

The small acrobat instantly regained his feet. "Alfred! Get Babs outta here!" he yelled and hurried to help Barber subdue Joey, stopped suddenly. Joey held the ugly barrel of the Uzi pistol against Barber's temple, his left arm holding the federal agent tightly by the throat. Barber's eyes met Dicky with a look of profound apology.

"Sorry, kid...Guess I blew it. Damned knee..." Apparently Joey had turned the tables on Barber. Swallowing, Dicky looked up at Joey's ugly grin.

"You sure did, you lousy gimp!" Joey growled. "You was never on the square with me, were you, Barber?" In anger, Joey tightened his hold around Barber's neck and dug the end of the gun barrel deeper in his temple. "What are you anyway? Some kinda narc? I bet that's what you are, Barber...nothing but a dirty, rotten cop!"

Barber's young, handsome face worked its way through several expressions, finally settling on defiance.

"What if I am?" he asked. "What're you going to do? Pull the trigger? Here? In front of all these witnesses? You know what they do to cop killers, Joey? The gas chamber, that's what!"

"Shut up!" Joey growled. "You're just like Catwoman-a dirty double-crosser who only wants what's mine. Well...you ain't gonna get 'em! Those diamonds belong to me, and I'm takin' 'em!"

Barber smiled, a surprisingly boyish smile. He shook his head. "No, no, no, Joey...Don't you remember? Those diamonds belong to Mr. Thorne. Just like you do. And you know what Thorne does to those who take what belongs to him? I should know...he's given me enough orders to make 'em all disappear. Neatly, y'know? No mess?"

"Yeah?" Joey said, his voice beginning to sound doubtful. "Well...you know what he does to narcs? Last pair ended up in a dumpster down by Dixon Docks-a bullet between the eyes."

"That's kind of funny, y'know that, Joey? 'Cause that's exactly what he said to me before we left him earlier tonight. He said, 'Barber...I want you to take care of Joey for me tonight-a bullet between the eyes. And leave his corpse in a dumpster somewhere-a message to others who try to steal from me."

Dicky noticed that Joey's brow had suddenly become slick with sweat, his entire demeanor growing unsteadily nervous and increasingly frightened. Joey shook his head.

"Naw...you're lying...to save your own carcass," he insisted.

"Am I?" Barber asked, and then trying a new tack added, "Remember the address I gave you earlier tonight? That address is real, Joey. It's a safe house we've set up for all those guys that Thorne ordered me to get rid of." Barber shrugged philosophically. "Whenever he ordered a hit, I just pulled a switch and took them to the safe house, instead."

"But how-?"

"It wasn't too hard," Barber admitted. "Thorne doesn't exactly surround himself with nuclear scientists. Besides, the Barber worked strictly alone. So...no witnesses-ever! Better yet, since Thorne wanted no evidence to come back later and embarrass him, he never asked questions. As for the victims, once I took them to the safe house, the Feds gave them a choice-the Witness Protection Program or Thorne." He smiled ruefully. "Funny how they all made the right decision."

Barber turned slightly until he was looking up at Joey. "The offer still stands, Joey. The Feds are waiting at the safe house, ready to give you a new identity, a new start, a new life. All you have to do is put that gun down and walk away from the diamonds. And-"

"-And rat on Thorne?" Joey finished. Reluctantly, Barber nodded. "What if he finds out? I'd be signing my own death warrant!"

"Joey..." Barber said gently. "You're dead already. It's just a matter of time. Thorne's already put out a hit on you. You'll never make it out of Gotham alive." After a moment's hesitation, Joey finally nodded in defeat and handed Barber the gun. Barber closed his eyes in a sign of relief.

Slowly, Alfred crawled out from under the antique table, and then turned to help Barbara to her feet. He quickly untied her, and soon Barbara was rubbing her wrists. Considering all that happened, the sudden crack of Catwoman's whip should have come as no surprise. Of course, they were all caught flat-footed.

"Ouch!" Barber cried, painfully holding his wrist. The gun, which he'd just been holding, was gone. They all turned to Catwoman who held it in her free hand. She gave Dicky a smile.

"It's all in the wrist, kid," she said, referring to Dicky's earlier unsuccessful attempt to disarm Joey. "Like this-!" She flicked the whip again, and this time the end wrapped itself around the black leather bag, which still lay where she'd flung it earlier. She smoothly stuffed it back into the larger carryall, which Dicky noted was bulging to the seams.

Giving them a rueful look, Catwoman held them at bay with the Uzi pistol. "I don't like these things," she admitted. "They're not very subtle. But that doesn't mean I don't know how to use them. So, I recommend that whoever knows how to open this jail, do so now. A cornered cat is a very dangerous thing. I promise...you don't want to find out just how dangerous."

"I don't believe you." All eyes turned to Barbara. Boldly, she took a step forward. "I don't believe that you'd kill us."

"Babs, are you nuts?" Dicky squeaked. Barbara ignored him.

"You could've hurt me, even killed me, earlier," Barbara said, her eyes holding Catwoman's. "But you didn't." She shook her head. "My dad's told me a little about you. He says that you're a jewel thief...and even dangerous. But he also says that you've never killed anyone."

"Even if that's true, Red," Catwoman conceded, "what makes you think that this won't be the first time?" Before Barbara could reply, Barber spoke up. Reaching for his cane, he stood slowly.

"You've never killed anyone before, Catwoman," Barber said quietly. "Do you think that you'd be able to kill all of us?" Catwoman glared at him, but Barber returned her look calmly. "I've already identified myself as an undercover cop. Actually, I'm a federal agent. If you kill me, you'd be facing a federal death penalty charge. If you just wound me, it's 25 to life. And since everyone here is a witness, you'd have to silence each of us. Do you think you can?"

Catwoman aimed the gun directly at him. "What makes you think I won't?"

It was Dicky's turn to speak.

"Batman!" he said. Unable to help herself, Catwoman glanced around the room. Dicky giggled. "Oh...he's not here. At least, I don't think so. But you never know, do you? I mean Gotham is his city, isn't it?"

"The boy's right, Catwoman," Barber said quietly. Placing his weight on his cane, he took a step forward. "I have a feeling that Gotham's Dark Knight would be very unhappy if you murdered-" He counted quickly. "-five people!" He nodded at Dicky, Barbara, and Alfred. "Especially if two of them are minors, and one's a senior." He glanced at Joey and shrugged. "Well, I doubt if even Batman would lose too much sleep over Joey, but still, he wouldn't like it."

"Thanks-a lot!" Joey growled.

"Shut up," Catwoman hissed. "Like he said, Joey...you're no great loss. So I wouldn't mind killing you." She turned to Barbara. "But you, Red...I'd bet big bucks that your dad would do everything in his power to make sure that nothing happened to you."

"What do you mean?" Barbara asked defiantly.

"It means that you're coming with me," Catwoman explained. "As my insurance policy."

"What?" Barbara asked, stunned.

"No way!" Dicky shouted. He placed himself between Barbara and Catwoman. "You're not going anywhere, Catwoman! And you're especially not taking Babs with you."

"Who's the kid's keeper?" Catwoman demanded. She glared at Alfred. "You'd best get him out of harm's way, old man. Before he gets hurt."

"Master Richard has everything well in hand, Madam. As he said earlier to Mr. Barber, Miss Barbara is his responsibility."

"If you want Babs, you'll first have to go through me," Dicky threatened. Catwoman stared at him, wryly amused by the young boy's audacity.

"Don't be silly, Dicky," Barbara retorted, shoving him behind her for protection. "You keep forgetting that I'm the sitter and you're the sit-tee. I'm supposed to take care of you, remember?"

"Miss Barbara," Alfred said in gentle, warning tones. "Might I advise you to stand aside?"

"Look, Catwoman," Barber interrupted. "You're not leaving here with anybody...especially not with a kid!"

"Hey! Who are you calling a kid?" Barbara protested. "I'm almost sixteen!"

Catwoman snorted, and then fought to keep a straight face. "She's got you there, Barber," she teased.

"No offense, kid-" Barber began and stopped, seeing her as for the first time. He gave her a rakish wink and a smile. "Sorry, Beautiful. Anyone with eyes can see that you're hardly a kid." To Dicky's utter disgust, he saw that Barbara actually blushed at the comment. He rolled his eyes.

"Oh, brother," Dicky muttered.

"Catwoman." Barber spoke in a quiet voice. "You have what you want. You have the diamonds. Why don't you just leave now-alone?"

Catwoman sighed and shrugged. "It's what I've been trying to tell you, Barber. I might have the diamonds, but I'm not going anywhere. Not as long as those things are there!"

"What things?" Barber asked.

"Those things!" Catwoman said, yanking the curtains open so that everyone could get a good look at the shuttered exits.

"What the-?" Barber muttered.

"My word-?" Alfred breathed.

"He did it!" Dicky crowed in triumph.

"Who? Dicky, what are these things?" Barbara asked.

"Don't you see, Babs? Bruce! He did it! He told me he was going to, but I didn't know he did. He never told me!"

"Dicky, you're not making a whole lot of sense," Barbara complained.

"Your girlfriend's right, kid," Catwoman interrupted. "You're not making a lot of sense."

"She's not my girlfriend!" Dicky denied hotly.

"Now, that's a relief to hear." For the third time that night, all eyes turned to the sound of the new voice at the door.

"Bruce!" Dicky cried out. He ran to his guardian who immediately scooped him up in his arms. "I thought you'd left!" Bruce gave him a half-smile and an expression that warned him to play along.

"After all that champagne I drank toasting your first double-digit birthday?" he teased, putting Dicky down again. "Not on your life. I must've fallen asleep in the study."

"Never mind the family reunion. Can you open this dungeon?" Catwoman demanded. Bruce gave her a long, hard look and then turned to Dicky. He studied the boy and spotting a definite mark of discoloration along his temple, Bruce's expression became dangerous.

"Did she do this to you, son?" he asked.

Before Dicky could reply, Catwoman interrupted. "Of course, I didn't! I would never hurt a child-!"

"She's telling the truth, Mr. Wayne," Barbara broke in. "She could've hurt me when she had the chance, but she didn't. She was really nice...except for the part where she tied me up." Barbara added this last bit a little lamely.

"Catwoman didn't hurt me, Bruce!" Dicky looked insulted. "She's a girl!" At his young ward's protest, Bruce glanced at Catwoman, his normally brooding eyes lit in amusement. Catwoman simply shook her head.

"The cage?" She waved at the sealed exits as a reminder, but Dicky interrupted.

"He did it!" Dicky pointed at Joey. Bruce gave Joey a look that sent chills down the bagman's spine. "He hit me, but it was really all Alfred's fault."

"Alfred?" Bruce asked, glancing at his loyal friend.

"I'm afraid so, sir," Alfred admitted.

"Now this I've gotta hear," Bruce muttered.

"Yeah, we all would, Mr. Wayne," Barber said. "But if you don't mind, I'd like to get on with this."

"I'll second that," Catwoman muttered. She looked at the gun in her hand and shrugged. A lot of good it was doing her. Nobody in the room-except Joey-believed for a second that she'd use it. And they were right. Catwoman sighed. This place was beginning to feel more and more like a jail.

"Get on with what?" Barbara asked Barber.

"With this, Beautiful-!" Barber gave her another jaunty wink. While Barbara's complexion turned a deep crimson, and Dicky rolled his eyes, Barber brought his cane up in a single, smooth motion and pressed a hidden release. Instantly, a weighted, steel mesh net shot out and enveloped Catwoman, who collapsed under the heavy burden.

"Why you-!" Catwoman shouted helplessly. "Barber, if it's the last thing I do, I-!"

"Aw! Shaddup, Selina!" Joey taunted. "You was beaten fair 'n square." He slapped Barber on the back in a show of camaraderie. "Always prepared, Barber...just like one a them Boy Scouts. Thanks for saving me the trouble!" Before they could react, Joey grabbed Barbara and shoved a much smaller, but no less dangerous, handgun against her temple. "Like I said...those diamonds are mine, and nobody's taking 'em from me." Addressing the room in general, he cocked the hammer. "If you don't want me to blow a big hole into this little girl's pretty head, you'll hand over the diamonds and open up this place." He gave Dicky an amused once-over. "Okay, kid, you wanna save your girlfriend-?"

"She's not my girlfriend!" Dicky growled. "She's my friend!"

"Sorry, kid. I stand corrected," Joey conceded. "If you want to save your friend, bring the bag over here." The mob bagman withstood an icy-blue glare from the ten-year-old. About to lose patience, Joey grinned in triumph when the boy turned on his heel and moved towards Catwoman to carry out his orders. Joey next turned to Bruce. "You! Rich boy!" he snapped. "The cage! I want you to pull an open-sesame, or the redhead buys it." He paused dramatically. "Then your kid's next." Joey found himself once again assaulted by a pair of glacier-blue eyes.

Not taking his eyes from Joey's, Bruce nodded curtly and recited aloud, "Three-twenty-one-ten!" At his words, the metallic shutters immediately began to lift, whirring softly on their well-oiled runners. Unable to help himself, Joey looked around for a split-second, taking his eyes off the men he was holding at bay.

That was all the opening the men needed. The loud, familiar snap of Catwoman's whip rang in the room, followed by Joey's cry of pain as it encircled around his unprotected wrist. Dicky yanked with all his might and cried out, "Now!" Seeing his chance, Bruce dove for Joey, grabbing his gun wrist. Simultaneously, Barber sprang forward and scooped Barbara out of harm's way.

The gun went off with an ear-splitting explosion in the enclosed room. Dicky ducked for cover, while Barbara screamed. Bruce drove a roundhouse blow to Joey's exposed middle and followed through with a left hook to the chin. The lousy, double-crossing rat went down without another sound.

"Bruce!" Dicky ran towards his guardian and threw his arms around his waist. Bruce hugged him closely to him. "That was great! Voice-activated commands-how cool is that?"

"You liked that, huh?" Bruce asked him. "What did you think of the command code I used?" At Dicky's blank look, Bruce knelt down to eye level with him, his expression softened. "Three-twenty-one-ten? March 21st for your birthday...ten for the number of years!"

In the meantime, Barbara was pinned facedown on the floor, a heavy weight holding her immobilized. At last, the weight slid off and Barbara was able to sit up.

"What happened?" she asked and stopped. Barber sat huddled over, his face pale with pain. He was holding his knee with both hands, attempting to stem the flow of blood. "Oh! You're hurt!" she cried. Immediately, Alfred and Bruce were there, applying pressure to the wound.

"No need...to worry...Beautiful..." Barber muttered, eyes fluttering half-closed. "Jus' a scratch..." Woozy, Barber leaned on Barbara for support and promptly passed out.

Saturday, March 22/02:30am

Wayne Manor

Gotham City

"That's it, Lady!" Bullock growled. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you-!"

"Stow it, creep!" Catwoman hissed. "I know my rights." She stood defiantly, handcuffed and ready for transport. Two uniformed officers stood on either side of her, each with a firm grip around one of her upper arms.

"That's good to hear," Bullock retorted. "Because I guess you know where you and your boyfriend here-" He nodded at Joey. "-are going."

Catwoman disengaged herself from her escorts and angrily turned on Bullock. "Get this straight, Flatfoot! This rat is not my boyfriend! He's not even my friend! In fact, if I could somehow manage it, he wouldn't be a distant acquaintance-!"

"Aw...Shaddup, Selina," Joey growled. He, too, was handcuffed and ready for transport.

Bullock snapped his fingers at the policemen. "Get 'em both out of here," he grunted. "I'll be following in the chase car." Catwoman and Joey's escorts nodded and none-too-gently steered them to the door. Four other officers followed behind them. Two of them professionally brandished shotguns, while a third carried Catwoman's carryall, gloves, and whip. The fourth officer had a box containing all the weapons found on Joey. In addition to the two handguns he'd used that night, he'd also been carrying a switchblade and two throwing stars.

Bullock shook his head in disgust and muttered under his breath. He turned to Gordon. "Any instructions, Cap'n?"

"Call me when you've got 'em both safely behind bars," Gordon told him. Bullock nodded in acknowledgement and left. Gordon then walked over to where Dr. Leslie Thompson and the EMTs were finishing up with Barber. To his vast disapproval, Gordon saw that Barbara was holding the young agent's hand. Barbara felt her father's gaze on her, and looking up blushed furiously. Raising her chin in teenaged defiance, she turned back to Barber, refusing to let go of his hand.

"Will our young hero here be all right?" Gordon asked the EMT working on Barber. The emergency medical technician gave Gordon a neutral look and a shrug.

"It's a clean wound," he said. "The bullet went in and out. But what do I know? I just keep 'em alive, Captain. It's up to the doctors to fix 'em up good as new. Right, Doc?" Leslie gave Gordon a quick shake of the head.

"I see." Gordon caught Barber's eye and noted the rueful look the young agent gave him. Gordon realized that Barber knew. He was well aware that he wouldn't be as good as new. Apparently, he'd been shot in the same knee where he'd been wounded during Desert Storm. Solemnly, Gordon placed his hands on Barbara's shoulders and drew her to him. He reached down and shook hands with Barber by way of greeting. "I haven't had a chance to thank you for saving my daughter's life, Mr. Barber."

"The name's Bard...Jason Bard. 'Barber' was just my cover."

"How long were you undercover, Jase?" Barbara asked, her eyes shining. At her deferential tone, Gordon felt a twinge of jealousy shoot through him.

"A little over a year," Bard told her.

"Really? Weren't you scared?" she asked.

"Who me?" he asked. He gave her a gently amused smile, and playfully tweaked her nose. "All the time, Beautiful."

Gordon tousled the top of Barbara's head. "My little girl's life is very precious to me, Mr. Bard. Thank you again."

"Oh, Daddy...!" Barbara protested, not appreciating being treated as a child in front of her new hero. "You're making me sound like a complete infant!"

"I'm going to second what Captain Gordon said, Mr. Bard," Bruce said. "I've spoken to Doc Leslie, and she's already okayed it, so-" Bruce pulled a reluctant Dicky forward. "-We, that is Dicky and I, would be greatly honored if you stayed here at Wayne Manor until you're able to get around again."

Bard gave them a self-deprecating smile. "Mr. Wayne...Captain Gordon, thanks...but honestly, I really didn't do a whole lot," he said. "Mr. Wayne, you and Dicky here were the ones who disarmed Joey. All I did was get myself shot and fall on top of your daughter. Not exactly the stuff of legends."

"I'll say..." Dicky muttered to himself. He winced as Bruce's fingers squeezed his shoulder a little painfully.

"Don't listen to him, gentlemen. My friend here is a bona fide war hero-Silver Star, Bronze Star, Purple Heart," Riley said as he walked up to them. "We've been on the trail of Rupert Thorne for a couple of years now. We're getting anywhere, until Jase came onboard. With his help we've now broken up Thorne's 'drugs for money-for illegal arms-for diamonds' ring. Thanks to Jase, the U.S. Attorney General will finally be able to put Thorne away for a very long time!"

"Riley, have you heard from Andersen?" Bard asked worriedly. He'd slipped in and out of consciousness for the past hour and was afraid that he'd missed something.

Riley nodded. "Andersen just reported in. The raid at Thorne Towers yielded the original stash of uncut diamonds we've been tracking-plus, several metal boxes containing an untold number of bundles of $100 dollar bills. All in all, a successful raid."

"Well...that's good news, anyway," Bard said. "Now, if only he can hold onto the evidence long enough for you to get there."

Riley gave Bard a smile. "Are you gonna be okay, buddy?"

Bard nodded. "Yeah...I've been through this before. The docs'll probably tell me to stay off the knee for a few weeks. After that..." he shrugged. "Who am I kidding, Riley?" He shook his head. "Why did it have to be the same knee?"

Riley shrugged. "Hey, buddy...Keep your chin up. Just you wait...In a few weeks you'll be back at the agency. Didn't you tell me once that nothing can keep Jason Bard down?"

Bard gave his friend a disingenuous grin. "Yeah, sure...and don't you forget it." Smiling, the two friends shook hands, each knowing that it was probably goodbye. With a final wave, Riley walked out.

At this moment, the phone rang and Alfred answered it. "Wayne residence," he intoned and listened. "One moment, please." Alfred covered the mouthpiece and addressed Gordon, "Captain Gordon...for you, sir."

"Thanks," Gordon said, taking the phone.

"I thought you were very brave," Barbara told Bard. Bard gave her his now-familiar rakish wink and grin.

"Thanks, Beautiful."

Sitting next to Bruce on the sofa, Dicky scowled and muttered something under his breath. Bruce quietly put his arm around the boy's shoulder and drew Dicky to him. Sighing in disgust, Dicky snuggled deeper into the warmth of his guardian's embrace. Being ten could be hard sometimes, he decided, but at other times, it could still be nice.

The quiet was shattered a moment later.

"What?" Gordon shouted. "How did it happen?" Gordon listened, livid. He dropped his head into his hands. "Of all the idiotic...incompetent...!" He paused again, listening. "All right! All right! Put out an APB! I want everyone on the lookout for her! You hear me!" Pause. "Yeah, well...stand in line, Sgt. Bullock. By the time this over, we may both be looking for a new job." He hung up in disgust.

"Daddy, what happened?" Barbara asked, worriedly.

Gordon shook his head, his expression highly displeased. "It seems the Catwoman escaped."

Everyone spoke at once: "What? How did it happen!"

Gordon spoke in flat tones. "Apparently, Catwoman removed her handcuffs as slick as any circus escape artist-" (Dicky and Bruce exchanged knowing glances. That's how she had escaped from them back on the rooftop all those months ago!) "-and used some kind of knockout gas in the police sedan. According to Sgt. Bullock who was in the chase vehicle, the car that was transporting her, slowed down briefly and all the cops were tossed out. Before anyone could react, it took off at an extremely high rate of speed. When what passes for brains in our GCPD's Finest finally kicked in and they started to pursue..." Gordon's voice died out, and the senior detective stared off into space.

Bruce and Dicky worried exchanged glances. "What happened then, Jim?" Bruce asked. "Jim?"

Gordon shook himself back to awareness. "The Catwoman activated the police cruiser's 'Quick Stop Zapper' system." At everyone's blank look, he explained, "Each cruiser is equipped with a remote 'Zapper' system. When activated, the system remotely sends an electronic signal that can stall the engine of any car. We use it as a safe way to put an end to high-speed chases. Cars that have been 'zapped' just roll to a stop, their engines dead."

They all stared at each other. "So, she got away from you, too?" Dicky asked. At Gordon's fierce look, Dicky swallowed and changed the subject. "What happened to Joey?"

Gordon made a sour face. "He was being transported in a different car," Gordon replied. "His next stop will be Blackgate Prison."

Dicky gave Bard a thoughtful look. "Funny...he could've taken the Witness Protection Program and had a new life. Now-"

"-Now he'll have to spend life in prison looking over his shoulder for any of Thorne's thugs," Gordon said. "I have a feeling he's going to have a very short imprisonment."

"Daddy!" Barbara cried out in shocked disapproval. Gordon and Bard exchanged neutral glances, and then burst into laughter at the same time. "Jason!" She crossed her arms in pique. "Oh! Men!"

Getting himself under control, Jason spoke placatingly. "Sorry, Gorgeous. Lousy joke." His grin belied his contriteness. "But, hey! It's not all bad...We recovered the diamonds, didn't we?" Nodding, Gordon held up the bag and tossed it at Jason.

"Jase, show us the diamonds," Barbara asked excitedly.

"Yeah," Dicky said, yawning sleepily. "Can we see 'em?"

"I think you need to see the inside of your bedroom, partner," Bruce said, shifting Dicky to his lap.

"I'm not sleepy...honest!" Dicky looked up at Bruce with half-closed eyes. "I'm ten now!" Smiling gently, Bruce ran his hand through his adopted son's hair. Dicky leaned his head against Bruce's chest.

"Yeah...you sure are, aren't you?" Bruce spoke in low tones, his chin on Dicky's dark head.

Smiling Bard opened the bag and began to look through it. Scowling, he took out a child-size pair of pajamas, T-shirts, socks and Underoos. Barbara giggled at this, while Dicky turned beet-red.

"Hey! That's my bag!" he protested, suddenly wide-awake. Slipping out of Bruce's hold, he ran to Bard's side before the federal agent could take out anything else that might prove embarrassing. Digging through the bag, Dicky pulled out the carved wooden box that Pop Haly had given him for his birthday and smiled happily. "Bruce! It's here! Look!" Dicky opened the box and his smile turned to one of surprise. Inside, he found a new figurine, one that had not been there before-a wooden, carved figure of a tiger. Attached to it was a note:

Take care of Sasha for me.

(From one cat lover to another.)

Happy Birthday!

C.W.

"Sasha?" Dicky asked.

"An overgrown housecat," Bard explained. He gave Dicky a look of approval. "It seems that Catwoman is entrusting you with the care of her pet tiger, kid. You should feel proud." He sighed. "I guess that means she's skipping the country-with the diamonds!"

"But how?" Barbara asked. "Dicky and I saw her put the case with the diamonds inside that larger bag-the one she said she always took on her jobs. And we all saw her pull it out and toss it to Joey."

"Yeah, but then, she took it back," Dicky reminded them. "Remember? With her whip?" At Barbara's nod, Dicky became thoughtful. "She stuffed the bag with the diamonds inside the larger carryall. I remember thinking at the time that the carryall looked like it was going to bust at the seams."

Barbara gave Dicky a look of admiration for his deductive reasoning. "Dicky, if you're right, then Catwoman must've had your bag stuffed in there already!"

"So, when Joey again got the drop on us-" Dicky began.

"-And again told her to give him the bag with diamonds-" Barbara continued.

"-Catwoman pulled a switch," Bard finished. "What a lousy break!"

"It's not that bad, Bard," Gordon said. "I know you put your life on the line for this case. But look at what you've achieved. You broke Thorne's organization in this town. I'd say that's cause for celebration, not self-pity."

"That's easy for you say, Captain," Bard retorted. "You've got the use of both your legs! What good am I going to be? Do you think the agency will take me back? I've seen it all before, and I can see it now. Rewind, play tape: 'Sorry, Bard...you've done a great job. Your country is grateful for your service, but we're afraid that we no longer have use of your assistance!' Been there, done that!"

"Jase, you'll think of something," Barbara said, taking his hand in hers.

"You still have your brains, don't you, Mr. Bard?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah...so what?"

"So plenty!" Bruce said harshly. "Wayne Enterprises always needs good investigators to help with legal matters. Multiply that by the myriad corporations located here in Gotham City, not to mention that there are always private citizens who have need of a private investigator at different times in their lives. Think about it." Bruce turned to Dicky and picked him up. "As for you, Birthday Boy...it's time you said good night to everybody!"

"Good night, everybody!" Dicky giggled. Pausing at the door, Bruce again faced Bard.

"Mr. Bard, you strike me as an intelligent and resourceful young man. Unless you're going to be a quitter, I think that you can make a success out of whatever you set out to do." He held Bard's eyes. "Sleep on it, Mr. Bard. If you're interested, talk to me about it in the morning. Good night, everybody."

Alfred stepped forward with Gordon and Barbara's coats. "Thank you, Alfred," Gordon said. "Barbara and I know our way out."

"Very good, sir. Good night, Miss Barbara."

"Good night, Alfred," Barbara said. She turned shyly to Bard. "Good night, Jason."

"Good night, Beautiful," he said disarmingly.

Long after the house had settled for the night, Bard murmured softly to himself, "Jason Bard, Private Investigations..." He smiled in the dark. "Has a nice ring to it."

The End