Read Online Batman 1 - Batman by Craig Shaw Gardner - Free Book Online
Authors: Craig Shaw Gardner
Ads: Link
tenement halls.
He had been wrong. The joke wasn’t over yet.
It was just beginning.
God, what a day. He was getting too old for this.
He had thought the hot shower would help, but he was just too weary from all the phone calls, the legwork, the deals and arguments. That was the problem when you lost your number-two man. He had had to reshuffle the whole organization.
Grissom turned off the water and grabbed a towel. Too bad about Jack, but he knew as well as anybody what happened when you stepped out of line. Carl Grissom hadn’t gotten where he was today by being a nice guy
He heard the elevator door open in the next room and someone settle with a sigh into one of the overstuffed chairs. It was Alicia, back from her daily shopping spree. Security would have called him if it was anyone else.
“That you, sugar bumps?” Grissom called.
She didn’t answer. Probably too busy looking over what she bought today. He wrapped the big towel around his waist and grabbed a smaller one to dry his hair as he walked into the other room.
Alicia wasn’t in her usual chair. Grissom looked around the room. He could just make the silhouette. There was someone sitting behind his desk, someone totally covered by a raincoat, scarf, and oversized top hat. It didn’t look like Alicia.
“Who the hell are you?”
“It’s me,” the muffled figure answered dryly. “Sugar bumps.”
Grissom recognized that voice. “Jack?”
Maybe the other man nodded. It was too hard for Grissom to tell with all that clothing. They said he’d been shot, that he’d fallen into a vat of acid. How could he have survived? And what did he want now?
Grissom decided it was time to start covering his tracks.
“Thank God you’re alive,” he said with all the sincerity he could muster. “I heard you’d been—”
“Fried,” Jack interrupted caustically. “Is that what you heard?”
Jack stood up. Grissom tried to think what he could say next, to keep things under control. Grissom always kept things under control. But there was a slight problem with that control just now—Jack would have a gun.
“You set me up!” Jack spat out the words. “Over a girl. You must be insane.”
No, Jack, Grissom thought. I’m not the crazy one around here. He could feel his heart beating, much too fast. This kind of excitement wasn’t good for someone Grissom’s age. He edged casually around the corner of his desk. If he could only reach his desk drawer . . .
“Don’t bother,” Jack remarked.
Grissom stopped and looked at the gun pointing at his belly. This time, Jack was serious.
“Your life won’t be worth spit,” Grissom announced.
“I been dead once already,” Jack replied matter-of-factly. “It’s very liberating. You have to think of it as therapy.”
Jack raised the gun so that it pointed at Grissom’s heart. Grissom couldn’t let this happen. Jack had to listen to reason. Grissom had gotten out of worse than this.
“Jack—listen. We’ll cut a deal.”
The gun didn’t move. “Jack? Jack’s dead, my friend. You can call me Joker.”
Then this “Joker” took off his hat and coat. Grissom wished he had left them on. He hardly looked like Jack Napier at all anymore. His flesh was bone white, his hair as green as artificial turf. But it was his mouth that was really horrible. Something that happened in the accident must have frozen his flesh that way, his lips much too red against the rest of his skin, his mouth warped into a never-ending rictus grin.
“As you can see,” Jack replied, “I’m much happier.”
He giggled. He really was crazy. But his gun had moved when he took off his disguise. The muzzle was pointed at the floor. This, Grissom knew, was his only chance.
The giggling turned to laughter as Grissom lunged for the desk drawer. He laughed even harder as he turned his gun on Grissom and fired. And fired. And fired.
Bruce Wayne couldn’t sleep.
He’d gotten himself involved at the worst possible time.
He
He had been wrong. The joke wasn’t over yet.
It was just beginning.
God, what a day. He was getting too old for this.
He had thought the hot shower would help, but he was just too weary from all the phone calls, the legwork, the deals and arguments. That was the problem when you lost your number-two man. He had had to reshuffle the whole organization.
Grissom turned off the water and grabbed a towel. Too bad about Jack, but he knew as well as anybody what happened when you stepped out of line. Carl Grissom hadn’t gotten where he was today by being a nice guy
He heard the elevator door open in the next room and someone settle with a sigh into one of the overstuffed chairs. It was Alicia, back from her daily shopping spree. Security would have called him if it was anyone else.
“That you, sugar bumps?” Grissom called.
She didn’t answer. Probably too busy looking over what she bought today. He wrapped the big towel around his waist and grabbed a smaller one to dry his hair as he walked into the other room.
Alicia wasn’t in her usual chair. Grissom looked around the room. He could just make the silhouette. There was someone sitting behind his desk, someone totally covered by a raincoat, scarf, and oversized top hat. It didn’t look like Alicia.
“Who the hell are you?”
“It’s me,” the muffled figure answered dryly. “Sugar bumps.”
Grissom recognized that voice. “Jack?”
Maybe the other man nodded. It was too hard for Grissom to tell with all that clothing. They said he’d been shot, that he’d fallen into a vat of acid. How could he have survived? And what did he want now?
Grissom decided it was time to start covering his tracks.
“Thank God you’re alive,” he said with all the sincerity he could muster. “I heard you’d been—”
“Fried,” Jack interrupted caustically. “Is that what you heard?”
Jack stood up. Grissom tried to think what he could say next, to keep things under control. Grissom always kept things under control. But there was a slight problem with that control just now—Jack would have a gun.
“You set me up!” Jack spat out the words. “Over a girl. You must be insane.”
No, Jack, Grissom thought. I’m not the crazy one around here. He could feel his heart beating, much too fast. This kind of excitement wasn’t good for someone Grissom’s age. He edged casually around the corner of his desk. If he could only reach his desk drawer . . .
“Don’t bother,” Jack remarked.
Grissom stopped and looked at the gun pointing at his belly. This time, Jack was serious.
“Your life won’t be worth spit,” Grissom announced.
“I been dead once already,” Jack replied matter-of-factly. “It’s very liberating. You have to think of it as therapy.”
Jack raised the gun so that it pointed at Grissom’s heart. Grissom couldn’t let this happen. Jack had to listen to reason. Grissom had gotten out of worse than this.
“Jack—listen. We’ll cut a deal.”
The gun didn’t move. “Jack? Jack’s dead, my friend. You can call me Joker.”
Then this “Joker” took off his hat and coat. Grissom wished he had left them on. He hardly looked like Jack Napier at all anymore. His flesh was bone white, his hair as green as artificial turf. But it was his mouth that was really horrible. Something that happened in the accident must have frozen his flesh that way, his lips much too red against the rest of his skin, his mouth warped into a never-ending rictus grin.
“As you can see,” Jack replied, “I’m much happier.”
He giggled. He really was crazy. But his gun had moved when he took off his disguise. The muzzle was pointed at the floor. This, Grissom knew, was his only chance.
The giggling turned to laughter as Grissom lunged for the desk drawer. He laughed even harder as he turned his gun on Grissom and fired. And fired. And fired.
Bruce Wayne couldn’t sleep.
He’d gotten himself involved at the worst possible time.
He
Similar Books
