Chapter 1 (Dr. Jonathan Crane)

Dr. Jonathan Crane glanced up when he heard someone knocking on his office door.

His secretary Mrs. Theresa Nichols had stepped in, a woman in her mid 40ies with a well-cared appearance and a calm warm voice.

„Dr. Crane. Excuse me, but I have Dr. McCoy on the phone for you. He wants to talk to you about a patient´s referral."

Mrs. Nichols did get the clear order from Dr. Crane not to put through any incoming calls, but she couldn´t brush off Dr. McCoy at all.

Jonathan Crane´s piercing blue eyes gazed directly to Mrs. Nichols and his cold gaze gave her a shiver running down her back.

„Theresa? Remember what I told you?", he asked in a calm voice, raising his eyebrows. „I do said, no calls."

„Doctor, I am.. I am sorry..", Mrs. Nichols stuttered and she felt her hands starting to sweat. „But.. but Dr.McCoy... he didn´t want to... I didn´t know what.."

„It´s okay, Theresa.", Dr. Crane interrupted her and pressed a knob on his phone to forward the call on to his place „But now.. no more incoming calls, please."

„Yes, doctor.", she responded in a soft voice when Dr. Crane´s phone rang and he picked up the receiver.

She stepped out of the office quickly and closed the door behind her. Her heart pounded wildly, when she stood in front of the door, hearing her boss´ calm but strong deep voice coming out of his office.

Dr. Crane´s phone call with Dr. McCoy took just a few minutes only.

„We´ll talk about this later. I now have a hearing at the court in the ´Zsaz´-case", Jonathan Crane had told Dr. McCoy and hung up the phone.

Sighing, he leaned back his head against the headrest of his big leather chair, rocking back and forth and turning around a bit from one side to the other, his gaze moving through his office.

Jonathan Crane was doctor of psychiatry. One of the youngest doctors ever to be on this special field in Gotham. He has done his doctor´s degree with „magna cum laude" and gained a foothold in his job very quickly. The highlight of his career was this now – director of Arkham Asylum. The youngest director ever who had been working at Arkham.

Indeed, he still had his orders from the state to obey how to do his director job at Arkham, he still wasn´t making the real big bucks´, but it was enough already to afford some luxury: a big heavy writing desk made of dark veined mahagony wood with rims made out of pure gold, a big comfortable Designer-Office-Chair made out of fine leather, original paintings of famous artists hanging on the walls of his office, his Jaguar Cabriolet in the garage of Arkham Asylum and not to forget his tailor-made suits for at least 1.000 dollars each.

He wasn´t a millionaire yet – but he also didn´t have to refuse anything to himself anymore .. as he had to do before.

Jonathan pushed aside his thoughts about former times when he watched at his expensive Rolex on his wrist. 10:30 a.m.

´Time to drive to Gotham Central Court.´, he thought when he rose off his desk. He adjusted his suit and gripped his briefcase standing next to his desk, then he opened the door and stepped out of his office.

Dr. Crane cleared his throat while standing at the doorway of Mrs. Nichols´ place of work, a through room leading to his office. Mrs. Nichols had turned his back to him and suddenly flipped around when she heard Dr. Crane´s deep voice. She propped herself with her elbows on her desk, trying to wipe a tear out of her face.

Jonathan gazed into her eyes. Her make-up was smeared and it was too obvious she had cried.

„Mrs. Nichols, I have a hearing at the court. Would you please be so kind and note down all incoming calls?", Jonathan Crane asked in a calm voice.

„Yes.. yes, of course Dr. Crane.", Mrs. Nichols responded softly and Jonathen could hear a sobbing undertone in her voice.

He turned around to leave the room, but then he paused and turned around to his secretary again.

He pulled a tissue out of his pocket and placed it in front of Mrs. Nichols on her desk.

Jonathan could hear her saying softly „Thank you, doctor.", when he turned around again and stepped out of the room without saying anything.