The Further Adventures of The Joker (39 page)

Harry cut back in: “Ready at Emory’s.”

Emory’s was an electronics outlet at the other end of the block, next to a vacant lot. Discount electronics. We were about to discount them a bit more. “What’s Batman doing now?”

“He’s kneeling over somebody, Boss. Hard to see, but she’s not moving much. One of the broads, I think.”

“Okay: Go.”

I could hear Harry whispering instructions into his other phone. Then: “I should be able to see them in a minute. Wait: Yeah, here they come now. They’re in a pickup. Coming around the corner, stopping at Emory’s.”

“Tell them to take their time.”

“They know that, Boss, but it’s hard for ’em. Goes against their grain. Lennie the Lift is running this team, and Lennie tends to be a safety-first kind of guy.”

“That’s not my problem. If Lennie can’t handle it, you should have got somebody else.” I knew he wanted to explain, but he was smart enough not to say any more. “Don’t let me down, Harry.”

“No way. Don’t worry. They’re out of the truck now. Two of them. They’ve left a driver. Batman sees them.”

I could hear him breathing.

“He just turned back to the broad. I think he’s too busy to worry about Lennie.” Harry’s other phone crackled. “Juliana just checked in. He’ll be ready to go in a minute.” I heard a siren over the link. “No problem,” said Harry. “It’s an ambulance. Couple of blocks away.”

“Block it off.”

“We can hold it a few minutes. No more.”

“That’s plenty. What about
him?
Is he still with the woman?”

“Yeah, he’s still there. New problem: police are coming. We’ve overturned a truck on Bensonhurst, so they’ll have to come around on the Extension. That’ll take time.”

“Where’s Cass?”

“He cleared out.”

“Get him on the phone. I want him standing by in my car during the final phase. Tell him—” The moment lifted my spirits. “—tell him there’ll be a little extra something in it for him.”

“Okay, Boss. Things are still cooking here: Shotgun’s in position. Lennie’s picked up something from the vacant lot next to Emory’s. It looks like a brick. Maybe a bottle. He’s showing it to the Batman.”

“—who’s wondering why he hears all those sirens and sees no police.” A delicious moment. It warmed my heart just to think of it.

“They’ve turned the pickup around, faced it away from the Batman.” I heard glass shatter. A burglar alarm erupted. “Lennie’s going inside.”

“Batman?”

“Staying put.”

“I suspect he’s a trifle upset. Let’s help him out. Can we let the ambulance through, but not the cops?”

“Yeah, Boss. They’re coming from different directions.”

“Okay. Let’s give the medical resources of this great city a chance to come to the rescue of these sorry barflies.”

Armand (Shotgun) Juliana was a psychotic punk. A young man with considerable natural talent, afraid of nothing. Not even me.

He was unsubtle, harsh, as direct as a blast from a double-ought six. He had a passion for shotguns, especially the side-by-side two-barrel. But he loved them all. I can’t ever remember seeing him that he wasn’t cudling one of the things in his arms, polishing its barrel, caressing the trigger housing. It’s a brutal weapon. Mindless. The weapon of a six-pack personality.

Still, he wasn’t stupid. He’d never been caught. Had no record. Man like that has his uses.

“Here comes the ambulance.”

“And Batman?”

“He’s still with the woman, but he’s watching Lennie and the boys. They’ve been carrying stuff out of that store and loading up the truck. Wait a minute.” I could just hear the noise from Harry’s other phone.

“What?”

“It’s Lennie. He wants to get out now. He’s nervous.”

“Tell him to calm down and finish loading the truck. We might as well make a little money tonight. No reason for Batman to be the only one who gets a present. Tell Lennie Batman won’t touch him.”

“The ambulance is pulling up. Medics getting out.”

“Okay. Start Juliana. Make sure Batman’s vision isn’t blocked. And Harry: Tell him to wish Batman a happy birthday.”

“We’re moving it to this side of the street to make sure. Batman can’t miss it. Listen: there’s nobody available just now to mug, so we’ll supply one. Al English. He’s just in from Charlotte. Batman doesn’t know him. And Al doesn’t know Shotgun.”

“Okay.”

“Shotgun swears he won’t hurt him.”

“Doesn’t matter. As long as it’s not fatal. We don’t want the judge denying bond.”

“He knows, Boss. Whoa. Lennie’s getting into his truck. They haven’t taken off yet, but he’s taking no chances. Batman’s starting for him.”

I heard the cry for help. It was a good, healthy scream.

“Shotgun has Al against a wall. My God, that looked real.”

“What happened?”

“I think Al’s really hurt.”

“Well, we’ll try to be philosophical about Al. You can’t celebrate a birthday without having a bash.”

“Batman turned in full stride. Shotgun’s taking off with Batman right behind him.”

“I’m glad we arranged to have an ambulance on the scene, Harry. Just in case things don’t go well.”

“Shotgun’s headed for the alley that connects with Lincoln. Boss, he’s just barely going to make it in there. Which means he won’t get through before Batman catches up with him. Things could come apart here.”

“Don’t worry. Batman won’t follow Juliana in. He’s not that dumb. It’ll go slower than that. He’ll be waiting for Juliana on Lincoln. Did you warn him against using the shotgun?”

“Yeah. But you know how he is. He might have stashed one in the alley. And he might just blow Batman away.”

“That would be a great disappointment to me, Harry. But I’m more inclined to suspect that, under those circumstances, Juliana would get to eat the gun. Head for Lincoln.”

“He’s gone. The Batman. He was in the shadows at the mouth of the alley. Now he’s gone. But I’m sure he didn’t go in there.”

“Boss, I’m on Lincoln. He’s got Shotgun.”

“You change cars?”

“Yes. How does he do it? Damn, he gives me the creeps.”

How indeed? Dark, savage creature: he seems barely human. I understood in that moment that I had embarked on the right course: force him to see himself through
my
eyes. Lift the mask behind which he hides. The ultimate gift. I did not expect that he would ever be grateful. But one could hope. It would be an eminently satisfactory conclusion to our long association.

“The cops are coming.”

I could hear the approaching siren. I could also hear loud, muffled voices. “This is our marital problem.”

“Yeah. We’re using Carroll House. It overlooks the alley.”

Glass exploded, and the voices became clearer. A man and woman were screaming at one another. “Wonderful,” I said. “Batman called in to settle a domestic dispute.”

“He’s handing Shotgun over to the cops. He’s under a streetlight. I can see him pretty good and I can tell you he doesn’t like Shotgun much.” Pause. Then: “Damn.”

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s turning away. Paying no attention to the fight.”

I was on my yellow phone. To Manny DeSailles, my lead bail bondsman. “They’re bringing in Juliana,” I told him. “I want him out in two hours.”

“What’re the charges?”

“Probably attempted robbery, assault, nothing serious.”

“How about the victim?”

“Maybe a little under the weather.”

“I can’t do it in two hours.”

“You said you could.”

“I said I could if he didn’t hurt anybody.”

“We can’t have everything, Manny. I want him out by three.”

“Did he shoot anybody?”

“No.”

“Thank God for that. Joker, you guarantee all this?”

“You know you can trust me, Manny. You won’t lose a dime.” I’d invested in a judge, too. Spared no expense for Batman. “Just get him out, Manny. Fast.”

I switched back to Harry. “—in the street. She damn near got hit by a car. Nice timing, Joker: she’s good. One of the cops is trying to help her. Uh-oh, here comes Hawk. He’s got an AK-47, and he’s waving it around. Everybody’s ducking for cover.” Harry’s voice changed, and I realized he was doing some ducking himself.

There were a couple of quick bursts, followed by sustained firing. I wonder whether there is any sound on the planet quite so restful as the rhythm of automatic fire, punctuated by screams, brakes, squealing tires, and colliding cars.

“We got trouble,” Harry said. “One of the cops is down. Shotgun is making a run for it.”

I picked up a pen. “He’s not supposed to do that, Harry.”

“Reflexes, Boss. Hawk’s blazing away at traffic, and Shotgun just couldn’t let his chance go.”

“Stop Shotgun. Tell him to get back to the police car. If he doesn’t, the whole idea goes down the drain.”

“I’ve got no way to reach him.”

“Then chase him down. Just do it, Harry.”

“All right. By the way, Batman’s back. He’s beating on Hawk. I’ll get back to you in a couple minutes.”

When Harry called again, the air was filled with sirens. “It’s okay,” he said. “I turned Shotgun over to the cops. He gave me an argument, but I told him we’d make it worth his while.”

“Oh, yes, we will, Harry. We will certainly do that.”

“They talked about giving me a medal for bringing him back.”

“I hope you told them you were just another concerned citizen doing his duty.”

“Yeah. Something like that. Listen: a lot’s happened here since I got off. We’re running the slasher bit.”

“Max Domingo?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. He makes a marvelous slasher.”

“Yeah. Everything’s right on schedule. Hawk clubbed Batman a pretty good shot, too, so maybe he’s not moving quite as fast as he was. But it’s really funny: he no sooner finished off Hawk than Louise came running around the corner covered with blood. She’s screaming and carrying on about a slasher, so he’s off again. Another squad car’s just pulling up, but they won’t be able to help him. They’ve got their hands full here.”

“Did you get Louise away?”

“Yeah. She’s with me. I’m going to switch to the bike, and leave her with the car. I’m heading over to Calvin Street now. Max’ll lead him to Universal Pump over there. Uh-oh—”

“What’s wrong?”

“An old couple just came out of Carroll House. They don’t look happy.”

“Is there a reason we should care, Harry?”

“Uh—”

“Are they talking to the police, Harry?”

“Yes.”

“Are they pointing up at the apartment that we used to stage this little performance?” The long silence answered the question. “Are they by any chance the people who live in that apartment?”

“I don’t know, Boss. They might be.”

“Why, Harry, are they alive?”

If Batman thought he was chasing a demented slasher, he could hardly have been more wrong. Max Domingo’s weapon of choice is not the knife. He was an acrobat and a black belt. I’d promised him a bonus if he could take out Batman. I knew it wouldn’t happen, but he might inflict some damage.

The quickest route from Carroll House to Universal Pump was through back alleys and across decaying corporate lots. We had a cycle waiting for Harry, to ensure that he could get there before the combatants.

I had chosen the headquarters of Universal Pump because I could see its grounds from my command post. I wanted a good seat for the fight. The building was gray, run-down, one of those ugly converted factories built during the ’20s. About four stories high. A low iron fence enclosed the grounds. Delivery docks lined the building’s north side. The security lights have always been bad, and we’d shot out a few more to enhance the atmosphere. The roof, which sloped just enough to provide drainage, was accessible only by a ladder at the northeast corner. For ordinary people, that is. I listened to the police radio, waited for Harry’s call, and watched. At the west end of the building, a flashlight drifted through the gloom. A guard.

The purple phone rang and I hit the speaker button. “Go ahead, Harry.”

“I’m here, Boss. Behind a dumpster out back.”

“Okay. Wait and watch.”

I scanned the roof and the approaches with binoculars. Nothing yet.

“Maybe we should have given Max a phone,” said Harry.

“No. Not with people who are going to wind up in jail. It wouldn’t take
him
long to see a pattern. And by the way—”

“Yeah?”

“You might be interested in knowing that the old people from Carroll House have talked extensively to the police. Judging from the radio traffic, they’re a little confused now, but even those dummies will eventually figure out that the fight was a setup.”

“Boss, I’m sorry. Even if we’d killed them, the truth would have come out.”

“Sure. In a few days, maybe. But not tonight.” As we talked, I used a red marker to make a circle on the wall, and printed Harry’s name inside it. “Well, don’t worry. It doesn’t really matter.”

“You figure Batman knows?”

“It would be wise to assume it.” I drew a stroke across the circle. Rim to rim.

“Boss, Max is on the ladder.”

“Is he alone?”

“I can’t see anyone else.” Nor could I. I was able to make out Max: long, scarecrow figure, dark, moving against the deeper black of the old factory.

I turned out the lights, opened the window, and dragged an armchair over. The air was cold and thick with the smell of brick and decaying wood and weeds. A river of automobile lights—the VanDamm—passed behind Universal Pump, casting flickering shadows across the roof, the docks, the grounds. The traffic was curiously silent, a magic lantern show.

Max reached the top of the ladder, paused, stepped off onto the roof, and crouched near an exhaust vent. If someone came up the ladder, Max would be waiting.

But no one would come up the ladder.
I
knew that. And I’d warned Max. Doesn’t anybody listen anymore?

I sighed and settled back in my chair.

A bat-shape materialized at the ridgeline, atop the roof. It paused, almost thoughtful. And then glided down toward Max.

“Nothing yet, Boss,” said Harry.

Batman might have kicked the damned fool over the edge without Max’s ever knowing he was there. But he stopped, and must have said something, because Max got up and turned slowly around. They faced each other for long moments, caught against the moon. Max assumed the fighter’s stance, while the wind played with Batman’s cape. He looked surreal, ghastly. I knew he was solid, vulnerable. Human. Of all men living, none knows that better than I. Still, I shivered.