Gambit: Development

Batgirl turned to look at Mrs. Peel and realized the talented amateur had fixed a steady gaze upon the Curved Crusader. As Batgirl watched, she realized Mrs. Peel was looking for something, rather than simply staring at her out of a sense of desperation.

“What is it?!” Batgirl shouted over the relentless pounding of the approaching hooves.

“Do you know what time it is?!”

“Just about midnight, I think!” Batgirl yelled. Morbidly, she recalled that dawn and dusk were the times executions had traditionally taken place. High noon was the time for gunfights. Midnight marked the time for occult rituals and modern executions. Tonight the witching hour, it seemed to Batgirl, would commemorate the moment she and the enigmatic Emma Peel were murdered.

Their evil equestrian executioners were growing closer with each passing second.

“Why did you ask what time it was?!” Batgirl wondered aloud.

“Any second now, there’s going to be a bang!” Mrs. Peel replied loudly. “If the horses reach us when I hope they will, we may have a chance!”

“Sounds good!” Batgirl had no idea about what Mrs. Peel was talking, but she didn’t want to dispirit her companion.

Christie, Camilla, Sarah, and Tiffany galloped closer, spurring their mounts to top speed as they bore down on the struggling captives.

Both women felt the stake they shared above and between them, to which each had one hand bound, shift ever so slightly and wondered if its counterpart, to which their ankles were tied, would also budge. Neither had time, though, to consider the implications of their discovery. The ravishing riders were upon them.

“Wait for the second pass!” Camilla ordered. She pulled her horse up, making it leap over the victims.

“We’ll follow you!” Christie agreed, following suit.

“Yippee!” Sarah cried as her horse took to the air. “This is fun!”

“Let’s ride!” Tiffany called as she let her mount gallop between the voluptuous victims, just missing their outstretched limbs and leaving them intact.

“They’ll be right back,” Mrs. Peel said.

“I know,” Batgirl replied.

“They won’t spare us a second time.”

“They’re still picking up speed. Help me loosen this stake.”

Their fingers wrapped around the metal pin and began to work it back and forth furiously.

“They’re turning,” Mrs. Peel said.

“I think it’s loosening.”

“Pull!”

They pulled. The stake gave slightly and rose between their hands.

“It’s coming!” Batgirl cried.

“So are the horses!” pointed out Mrs. Peel.

Indeed, the comely captives’ endowed executioners were racing toward Batgirl and Mrs. Peel at a full gallop, spurring their steeds to even greater speed as they bent forward, clinging to the beasts’ necks. They had just reached their objective when three distant booms startled the horses.

Batgirl and Mrs. Peel stared at the ravishing riders as their mounts reared, pawing the air while the hostile horsewomen wheeled them toward the noises.

“What was that?” Christie demanded.

“I don’t know,” Tiffany said. “We’d better find out.”

“What about them?” Sarah asked.

“They can wait,” Camilla decided. “We’ll finish with them once we know what caused those explosions. Let’s go!”

Max Chessman’s murderous minions rode from the site of the pretty prisoners’ predicament. Neither Mrs. Peel nor Batgirl had stopped pulling at the stake restraining their wrists. Finally, together, they wrenched it free.

“Yes!” Batgirl said, reaching for the well-honed blade at her hip to cut the stake from the ropes that still entwined it.

“My diversion won’t keep them busy for long,” Ms. Peel said. “If we’re still here when they get back, we‘ve had it.”

“We’ll be gone,” Batgirl said confidently. She cut the rope tethering Mrs. Peel’s wrist to one of the stakes they had shared. “What did you do?”

“I left a few time bombs Sir Sterling Habits sent to me near the edge of the grounds,” Mrs. Peel said, reaching for the stake restraining her other wrist and wrenching at it viciously. “They were set to go off at midnight.”

Batgirl slashed at the ropes binding her own ankles and wrist. Once she was free, she cut Mrs. Peel’s remaining bindings. “I’m glad you planned ahead.”

“Thank you." Mrs. Peel stood. "Time to arrange a little welcome for our would-be killers, so we can find out what Chessman is up to.”

“I may know what he’s doing. Let’s regroup and exchange information.”

“Okay.” Mrs. Peel began to move off in the direction Chessman’s women had gone when Batgirl gripped her shoulder.

“If we’re getting away, we’d better go this way,” she advised. The pulchritudinous pair ran away from the area of Mrs. Peel’s bomb blasts, avoiding the lawn and the drug-spouting sprinklers. At the wall, Batgirl’s cape again protected the pretty prowlers as they took their leave.

“What made you think of planting those bombs as a possible diversion?” Batgirl asked.

“I saw quite a light show earlier this evening driving past the Gotham Museum of Modern Art,” Mrs. Peel explained. “I don’t know what the occasion was, but I remembered the Chinese use fireworks to scare away evil spirits at their funerals. Distracting the enemy with sound and fury seemed like a good idea.”

“It seems you were right. I don’t remember hearing about anything like that having been scheduled.”

Shortly before Mrs. Peel’s inspiration, Batwoman and Flamebird had continued to struggle vainly against their bonds and stared fearfully at the slowly burning fuses beneath them. Both heroines knew the enormous firecrackers to which they had been bound would launch seconds after the flaming tongues worked their way out of the women’s sight. Less than two too short minutes later, each could expect to be blown to smithereens.

“Going out in a blaze of glory,” Flamebird muttered darkly. Their mysterious murder’s succinct summary of their doom appeared to Flamebird to be all too apt.

“We aren’t dead yet, Flamebird,” Batwoman said.

“Have you had an idea?

“Maybe. What about you?”

“I thought if we had our belts and your Bat Kit, you might be able to get the remote control for the Bat-Gyros and maneuver them to cut us free with the blades so we could climb aboard and escape.”

“Good thinking! I finished creating a remote piloting capability for the Bat-Gyros before I started to keep the bike at work to use as Batwoman.”

“The problem with my plan, of course, is we don’t have our belts and wouldn’t be able to reach them even if we did.”

“Making any progress with your bonds?”

“No. I can’t get my hands free.”

“What about your feet?”

“I thought about trying to get the fuse to burn through the ropes, but I’d never be able to maneuver my ankles around the fins of this rocket.”

Batwoman was tugging her wrist bindings downward and shimmying her beautiful, bound body toward the rocket’s base. “Follow my lead, Flamebird. I think the fins might be our keys to freedom.”

“You’re right, Batwoman! If the edges of the fins are sharp enough to cut the ropes, we may have a chance.”

“It may be a slim chance, but I’d rather keep trying than give up,” Batwoman said.

She and Flamebird began to draw their ankle bindings repeatedly along the edges of their rockets’ fins. “It’s working!” Flamebird cried hopefully.

“Yes,” Batwoman agreed. “It’s all a matter of time now. If we can free our legs before we blast off, we might live. Otherwise . . . .”

“Right,” Flamebird said as her ankles hit the side of the rocket on either side of the fin. “What now?”

“Follow my lead,” Batwoman ordered. She had also severed her ankle bindings.

Batwoman lifted her legs and thrust them backwards, curling her abdomen and pushing herself further back with her hands.

“Hurry, Batwoman. The fuses have burned beyond where I can see them,” Flamebird said, duplicating her mentor’s maneuver.

Positioned as they were, the heroines could take advantage of the narrowing noses of their projectiles. They hung momentarily from the rockets’ cones.

A fearsome blast heralded twin plumes of fire, which erupted from the projectiles’ bases, beginning to hurtle the fiendish fireworks skyward.

Batwoman dropped to the safety of the roof, but the younger, lighter team member felt herself drawn upward, before her bindings separated from the rocket’s nosecone. Open space yawned beneath her feet.

Time seemed to slow to a horrific crawl for Batwoman. The events taking place around her transpired as a nightmarish narrative she was only able to helplessly watch. As the sinister story played itself out, events etched themselves into Batwoman’s memory as though they were being drawn in molten metal, so as to scar her psyche forever. She was suddenly certain the memory of Flamebird falling away from that ridiculous rocket would haunt her – change her. Perhaps, it would drive her mad!

“Flamebird! No!!” Batwoman cried desperately, her face paling as she contemplated the guilt she would endure if her niece perished. Katherine Kane decided Batwoman was finished unless her partner somehow survived.

‘So, you wanted to be a crime fighter,’ she told herself bitterly. ‘This is what that decision costs and now it’s time to pay! If this really is the price, it is way too high.’

Flamebird’s fateful flight, however, had not yet ended with her becoming a pasty pile of bloody flesh on the pavement far below. Instead, her body slammed against the side of the skyscraper.

Flamebird had been keenly aware of what was happening as she slipped free of her wrist bindings and threw herself backward toward the safety of the receding rooftop. She was taking a horrible risk, but exploding high in the sky was not an acceptable conclusion to her adventures.

She twisted around in midair to face the building, seconds before the impact and the pain. It spread all over her body, enveloping her in an instant and tearing an agonized gasp from her throat. Instinctively, she reached up and clawed at the wall.

“Help!” someone cried. Flamebird was surprised to realize the voice was her own. Following the desperate cry, her lungs were empty.

The plea snapped Batwoman from her state of horrified paralysis.

The Voluptuous Vanquisher of Villainy moved to the side of the building with a single swift stride. Her heart was in her throat as she leaned forward, reached over the edge, and grabbed for her partner‘s wrist.

Flamebird imagined the fate about to befall her. She would continue to descend toward the sidewalk as the pain ebbed from her body. She guessed everything would stop quite suddenly to herald her immersion in a metaphysical black void. At this point, she would lose consciousness – at least she hoped she would. She did not want to be aware of the gathering crowd and the professionals who would scrape her remains from the surface of the street.

Quite suddenly, she realized reality was at variance with the horrific scene she had pictured. She was cold, drenched with sweat. Her lungs were painfully expanding as she inhaled. Her ribs were bruised, at the very least. She would not be able to determine if they were broken until she stood on something solid. She heard herself moan and focused on the side of the building she had leapt at to save herself. She reached up to take a fresh grip on the wall, to finish her ascent to the roof and realized she was not holding on to the building at all!

From what was her body suspended?

Whatever it was, its grip upon her was firm. Then she heard the voice. “Come on, Flamebird. Up you go,” it said.

She would never know the source of the impulse that had made her turn her hand and take hold of her partner’s wrist. How long had Batwoman been encouraging her? She didn’t know. It didn’t matter. What mattered was she felt herself rising like a phoenix, gripping Batwoman’s wrist as Batwoman gripped hers and pulled, hoisting the younger heroine to the safety of the roof.

“Th-thank you, Batwoman,” Flamebird said breathlessly. “That was close.”

“Almost too close, Flamebird,” Batwoman agreed.

They stood, holding one another for a long, silent moment. They were alive, together, and determined to carry on their fight against crime. Now that they both were more keenly aware of its possible cost, the fight was more important than ever.

A distant pop made them turn from one another and face the direction in which they had been launched. Seconds later, the sky blossomed with purple cascades of fire, which streamed earthward. A second wave of bright explosions erupted in the sky.

Batwoman felt Flamebird shudder in her arms before the two of them returned to their Bat-Gyros and a thorough, yet fruitless, search for their would-be killers.

The jog to the Batgirlcycle didn’t take long and the Dark Angel of Gotham was delighted to learn her associate had also chosen a motorcycle as the mode of transportation. They made their way to Mrs. Peel’s suite at the Batman Hilton and settled down to talk over steaming mugs of tea.

“So,” Batgirl began, “you’re Mrs. Emma Peel. You work with the Ministry and you’re after Max Chessman.”

“Yes, Batgirl. I know you faced him before and enabled us to take Chessman as he tried to leave the United States. The Ministry sends compliments for a job well done. They have confidence in you.”

“I suppose their confidence inspired them to send me a note warning me about Chessman right after his associate, Playgirl, tried to kill me.”

Mrs. Peel set her tea down and favored the other woman with a dazzling smile. “I really couldn’t say. My relationship with the Ministry operates through my partner. He didn’t come abroad this time since he is still recovering from an injury sustained returning Chessman to England.”

“I’m sorry to hear he was injured.”

“He’ll be himself again soon. He said he would be looking for Chessman’s contact in the government.”

“Was it your partner I spoke to on the phone when I put you on to Chessman last time?” Batgirl asked.

“Yes,” Mrs. Peel answered. “Most of the work he will be doing amounts to socializing, but I suppose our superiors could find some other pressing things for him to attend to at home until he has completely recovered.”

As it happened, Steed was just returning to his beloved country home after a very late night. As he put his bowler and umbrella aside, he realized he was not alone.

“Hello, old boy, welcome home.” Steed’s visitor swivelled around on the chair at Steed’s roll-top desk.

“Good morning. How can I help you?” Steed asked.

“Don’t you recognize me, old boy? I’m disappointed.”

Steed looked at him closely and recognition slowly dawned. It was impossible. “Malov?”

“Quite, old boy, but it’s Doctor Malov now. I wanted you to be the first to learn about my greatest achievement.”

Malov had never been Steed’s friend. If, however, he was feeling like talking, there was no reason not to encourage him. “In that case, how about some coffee?” Steed asked, smiling and making his way to the sideboard.

“Do allow me, old boy.” Doctor Malov clapped his hands twice and looked toward the stairs. When Steed followed his gaze, he was surprised to see a stunningly beautiful, black-haired woman descend. She wore a short, black dress that showed off her well-proportioned body to good advantage. Steed followed her progress from the foot of the stairs to the sideboard and watched her pour a cup of coffee. She carried it to Steed and sat down on the sofa, where Steed joined her.

“This is Tatiana. Arianna will fetch my drink.” Malov clapped again and an equally stunning, identically dressed blonde woman approached from the downstairs hall. Once Doctor Malov had his own coffee and the blonde had seated herself on the other side of Steed, the doctor raised his cup and sipped. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” Steed sipped his drink. “Now, tell me about your achievement.”

“Lovely, aren’t they? I’m sure you’ll agree with me, they represent the pinnacle of Professor Armstrong’s work. You remember Professor Armstrong, of course.”

“Yes. He created the Cybernauts and ultimately died at their hands. His brother followed in his footsteps. You could say, they were both hoist on their own petards. Tragic, really.” Steed’s voice was detached as he recalled how the scientists’ robotic creations had turned on their masters, dealing them the death intended for Mrs. Peel and himself. Steed had meant what he said about the tragedy – not their deaths, necessarily, but the fact their genius had been wasted.

“Quite. One of Armstrong’s assistant, Goff, made Cybernaut technology available to my former master, Felix Kane, whom you captured before you began working with your old partner again.”

“I’m sure Mrs. Peel would object to your use of the word ‘old.’” Steed favored the woman on his right with a smile. The gesture was not returned.

Malov bowed his head slightly. “My apologies to Mrs. Peel.”

“As I recall, Kane used Cybernaut technology to make a mechanical body for himself. Thus, Tatiana and Arianna are . . . .” Steed’s voice trailed off as he came to a terrible realization.

“I like to call them T and A for short. I intend for the three of you to become very close . . . for a very short time.”

Steed put his empty cup aside. “Enough chit chat, Doctor Malov. What do you want?”

“Right, Steed. I’ve come for revenge. Ladies, proceed.” T and A gripped the lapels of Steed’s tweed coat and tore it from his body.

“That was from Saville Row!” Steed protested and began to stand. T and A reached up to restrain him. As Steed struggled, he realized Doctor Malov’s creations were very strong. Once they had pulled him back to his position between them, they held him down and began slowly massaging his chest through his shirt. As they worked, they wriggled closer to him.

“The ladies will show you the most exquisite time . . . before you die, Steed. I assure you, they’ve been tested quite rigorously.”

“Really?” Steed asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. I understand you spies go in for that sort of thing. My lethal lovelies will make your journey to the afterlife as pleasant as you would like it to be. In fact, they’ll do anything you ask . . . except to let you go, of course.”

“Anything?”

“Quite. However, before they’ve finished with you, what is left will be quite pasty indeed. Well, it wouldn’t do for a gentleman such as myself to stay while those sorts of preliminary shenanigans are going on. Good day, Steed. Pip pip.”

As Doctor Malov departed, T and A demonstrated Steed had been left in very capable hands. Steed involuntarily gasped.

“Is your husband your partner at the Ministry?” Batgirl asked.

“No. When I started working with John Steed for Queen and country, I believed I was a widow. My husband, Peter, was a test pilot whom I thought had perished in an accident. Two years later, Peter turned up in the Amazon floating on a hatbox or something. Anyway, he returned to England and we were together again.”

“That isn’t the end of the story, though,” Batgirl prompted.

“No. It isn’t. Peter’s job was piloting demonstration test flights of military aircraft with Rolls Royce engines that our government was trying to sell to other countries.” A shadow fell across Mrs. Peel’s face. “A little more than a year and a half ago, he was sent to Nimpah. Soon after he arrived, Peter was killed by revolutionary forces.”

Batgirl’s voice dropped to a whisper. “That’s why you were at the book faire, investigating Bookworm.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Peel’s tone was detached, professional. “We thought Bookworm’s Red Headed League might have some connection to the rebels in Nimpah. It didn’t, though.”

Batgirl looked up, with genuine sympathy in her eyes, “I’m sorry.”

“After Peter’s death, I was back home, alone.” There was a moment of silence. Then Mrs. Peel’s face brightened, “Until Steed told me he needed me again. The rest is history.”

Batgirl was happy to return the conversation to their current case. “What is your experience with Mr. Chessman?”

“He was just starting his operation in Londinium when I first encountered him. I got a job at his hotel there and investigated from the inside, while Steed pretended to be a guest. We learned Chessman had kidnaped a number of scientists and was keeping them as prisoners for the other side to interrogate. The brief escape of one of the scientists put us on to him.”

“What happened?”

“I fell under suspicion. Chessman had me captured and questioned. The man he sent to break me was just about to apply torture when Steed arrived. Once things were under control, Steed told me he had left Chessman upstairs with a Russian client and that Chessman was raving about his planned empire. Since one of our people was guarding them, we weren’t worried, but Chessman and the Russian escaped.”

“Chessman was at large until I called Steed and let him know Chessman was about to leave the country,” Batgirl guessed.

“Exactly,” Mrs. Peel confirmed. “Now, I’d like to know why you were investigating Chessman last night. He’s been in town for several days, making television appearances.”

“I’ll explain, but I have one more question first. Why did the Ministry warn me about Chessman in the first place?”

“The Ministry probably decided to contact you because of your fine work in Londinium, apprehending Lord Marmaduke Ffogg; Lady Penelope Peasoup; her niece, Lady Prudence; and the quartet of elite, young criminals they were preparing to unleash upon an unwary world. I would say they knew Chessman was coming to Gotham City.”

“Okay. I’ll buy that, but why me? Batman was the one venerable Ireland Yard originally asked for in the Ffogg case. I was just along for the ride.”

“Oh, I see at what you're getting. Please, don’t take this the wrong way, but I would guess the powers that be would have wanted to alert Batman first, however they were probably under the impression he was operating abroad at the time with Robin.” Batgirl nodded, recalling how the Dynamic Duo had flown off to pursue the Penguin, whom they erroneously believed to have been operating from Roosevelt Island in the Antarctic. Batgirl had been quite pleased that bad weather had allowed her to beat them back to Gotham City.

Mrs. Peel continued. “Some of our superiors were exceedingly pleased when, soon after, Batman turned up in Londinium to combat a madwoman who had been terrorizing American tourists. She called herself Britannia.“

“Right. What ever happened to her?”

“Nobody knows. She tried to kill Batman, but he got away. Ultimately, she disappeared and the Caped Crusader went home.”

“Batman gets around,” Batgirl remarked. “He and Robin are both top class investigators. They involve themselves in cases around the world.”

As Batgirl and Mrs. Peel remarked upon their past exploits, Batman and Robin arrived at the estate of multimillionaire Zubin Zuccini. They found the aged mogul bound and the premises burgled.

“Thank you, Batman and Robin. You’ve saved me again,” the crime victim said as his bindings fell away.

“Yes, Mr. Zuccini. Robin and I are happy to come to your rescue, whether you are menaced by Catwoman or any of the other denizens of Gotham City’s unsavory underworld.”

“Catwoman,” the businessman said dreamily, “that tall, well-built blonde with the leather outfit. She was something, boy, I’m telling you!”

“I don’t think it’s leather,” Robin said under his breath. Then, more loudly, “Sir, she tried to steal your priceless violins a few years back,” Robin continued, trying to help Zuccini recall the episode.

“I remember, sonny. I’m glad to see you two again, because someone did steal them this time. The crooks also took the rest of the contents of my conservatory, including other valuable musical instruments and sheet music from Europe dating back to the seventeenth century.”

“Do you know who the thief was?”

“If I knew that, young man, I would have said so by now, wouldn’t I? I only hope you can catch whoever it was before my collection is damaged. Just opening the violins will ruin them, as you well know!”

“Yes. When Catwoman tried to steal them, they had not been outside their cases in 30 years. It was necessary to conduct the sale on the hundred-second floor of the Gotham State Building, the tallest skyscraper in Gotham City at the time. It was the only venue affording the proper altitude and humidity to allow a safe inspection of the violins.”

“I know all that, Batman! I remember it vividly, despite what you may have heard about my memory,” the retired businessman said, fixing the Caped Crusader with an intense stare. “There are idiots who have been quoted on the society page who have called me a vegetable. Me! Zubin Zuccini! How dare they? I’ll sue them all. It’s outrageous!” The quaking tycoon took a deep breath and composed himself. He smiled and addressed his rescuers again. “What I don’t know is, how did you two come to rescue me so promptly.”

“It was really quite elementary, sir,” Batman explained. “Robin and I have been investigating a series of recent, musically orientated crimes.”

“Right,” Robin picked up the explanation. “We’ve been wracking our brains trying to determine if one of our old musical adversaries could be behind them. The Siren is still at large, while the Minstrel is out on parole. We’re pretty sure Chandell has reformed, but his twin brother Harry is another matter entirely. Anyway, we fed the data we’d gathered into the Batcomputer and let it predict the next crime. Your collection was the most likely target of the criminal's gang, but, unfortunately, we just missed them.”

“Astonishing!” Zubin Zuccini exclaimed. His face softened as he went on regarding the Dynamic Duo. “I’d hate for you to get the idea I’m not grateful, because, of course, I am.”

“Gosh, Mr. Zuccini. Thank you. Batman’s methods are pretty impressive,” Robin agreed.

“Thank you both,” Batman said. “Though thanks are not really necessary for one who merely goes about his mundane business every day, and today we have no time for self-congratulations. We must determine who perpetrated this crime against you, Mr. Zuccini.”

“Right, Batman. Are there any clues?”

“What about this stuff they tied me up with before they looted my conservatory?” Mr. Zuccini asked hopefully. “I think I read about Catwoman using something called Cat’s Whiskers in her crimes. She’s tried to steal my violins before.”

Batman examined the supple strands that had bound the businessman. “If these were Cat’s Whiskers, I doubt you’d still be alive. They are nothing like the sample of that sinister substance Batgirl gave to me for analysis. She’s had more experience with Cat’s Whiskers than Robin and I.” Zubin Zuccini looked disappointed. Batman’s voice softened as he adopted a more serious, authoritative tone. “Make no mistake. Catwoman is a very beautiful, very enthralling woman.”

“I know!”

“Naturally,” Batman said. “Let me continue. Women are said to be multi-faceted. Catwoman may be more complex than any woman I’ve ever met. If you were to see her in jail, where she is now, the analysis would be obvious to you. Catwoman looks very different than the villainess with whom you dealt.”

“She can’t be that much older,” the crime victim remarked.

“Wait!” Batman exclaimed. “What was it you said, Mr. Zuccini?” he asked.

“Catwoman can’t be that much older than when she stole my violins. I’m also aware they wouldn’t let her wear that leather outfit that looks so good on her in prison.”

The Ruby Match magnate seemed about to elaborate, when Batman refocused his thoughts. “Sir, what were you saying before we began discussing Catwoman?”

Mr. Zuccini thought for a moment before answering. “I was talking about this wire string the crooks used to tie me up before my office was looted.”

“That’s it! This material is from a musical instrument called a lute.”

“Holy Brainwaves, Batman. One of our suspects plays the lute – the Minstrel!”

“You mean I solved it?” Zubin Zuccini asked delightedly.

“Your insight might prove invaluable, sir,” the Caped Crusader encouraged.

Zubin Zuccini grunted. “I told you I’m not a vegetable,” the businessman said, “despite what you may have read in the newspaper. Those idiots! I am going to sue them! Never mind. Thank you.”

An instant later an insistent knock at the door interrupted the trio’s cogitation.

A butler promptly led a tall woman wearing a messenger’s cap, a white blouse, a navy blue jacket, a matching skirt, hose, and polished shoes into the room. “Message for you, Batman, sir.”

“Go ahead, miss,” Zuccini invited.

“Thank you. Batman, I am your singing telegram,” she began. Then she kicked her toes against the floor, emulating a tap dancer.

“Holy Musical Message! Could it be from the Minstrel?”

“We’ll see,” Batman replied. “Go on, ma’am.”

She began to sing using the tune of Flowers on the Wall:

“Watching Batman climb the wall.
He won’t bother me at all.
Planning crimes each night ‘til dawn,
We’ll be there and then we’re gone.
Robbing rich men blind and causing
Batman’s doom.
He won’t scare me.
My dreams will come true.”

She concluded her song with a bow and handed the Caped Crusader a sheet of paper before dashing off.

“He’s certainly challenged us,” Robin observed. “What’s on the note?”

“Many notes, old chum. It’s the sheet music to the song she sang.”

“Minstrel could be sending us a coded message.”

“We’ll never find out standing here. Let’s get this page to the Batcave for analysis. We haven’t a moment to lose!”

“Now, to answer your question, Mrs. Peel,” Batgirl said, “I became worried when I learned a woman called Heidi Geistglauber reported her father’s apparent disappearance. I was suspicious of Chessman because he appeared on television right after Dr. Geistglauber and because Geistglauber is a scientist.”

“You think Geistglauber is at the mansion?”

“Yes. I’m a little afraid of what condition he’ll be in by now, but I’m confident he was there when we arrived. I looked over Geistglauber’s house and persuaded a couple of Chessman’s goons to tell me where the doctor was. When I got there, I spotted you. Why were you there?”

“Chessman tried to have me killed. He had two men waiting here when I arrived. I sent them to the police and decided to have a word with their boss about his reception committee, among other things.”

“Such as?”

“Since his disappearance, my superiors have not been aware of his activities, and therefore cannot predict what he might be planning,” Mrs. Peel explained.

“What we need to do is figure out what Chessman is planning now,” Batgirl remarked.

“You’ve faced him more recently. Let’s review what he was up to then.”

“Well, I think he was preparing to kidnap scientists from a conference that was held at his Gotham City hotel shortly after his arrest. He somehow recruited Playgirl to get Batman, Robin, and me out of the way and she helped him hack into an orbiting satellite. You got him before we could learn what he planned to do with that technology.”

“It’s fortunate he never got the chance to put those plans into operation.”

“I agree. The possible applications of satellite technology in his hands are frightening.”

“Right. What is this scientist’s, Geistglauber’s, field?”

“Electromagnetism.” Batgirl smiled at the unintentional joke. “I read most of his published work yesterday, but his writing only tells us what he has done in the past. He got a phone call about a research grant from a woman who must be his assistant. If so, she would be able to give us a better idea of what the doctor is working on now.”

“Quite. She may also be able to give us a clue as to Chessman’s use for his research.”

“Good. Why don’t you go at the problem from the work angle. Doctor Geistglauber’s assistant’s name is Brenda Kendall.”

“All right. What will you be doing?”

“I want to talk to his daughter, Heidi. I’m concerned about what our visit to Chessman’s headquarters might set in motion.”

“You think Chessman might want his information from the doctor sooner?”

“Yes, and if I’m right, he will be a lot less careful about how he persuades the doctor to help him.”

“At least, as long as Doctor Geistglauber remains indispensable, Chessman won’t kill him.”

“True, but short of killing the goose that lays the golden eggs, I wouldn’t put anything past him,” Batgirl said. “When Chessman decides the doctor is expendable, he will kill Geistglauber without a second thought.”

“Let’s hope we get back into Chessman’s base before that happens,” Mrs. Peel agreed. “Come to think of it, why don’t we just go back there now and clean up the whole mess. Chessman’s holding the doctor, isn’t he?”

“I’d prefer to have a little more information about what Chessman has in mind. Besides, the estate is large and they might be able to move or hide the doctor before we can find him. In addition, they’ll be expecting us. Security will be a lot tighter than it was for our earlier visit.”

“Well, at least we know what to expect.”

“Maybe. I think we can avoid the pitfalls we first encountered, but Chessman will have something new and dangerous waiting for us when we return,” Batgirl frowned and finished her thought, “perhaps something much more subtle.”

Meanwhile, in his palatial headquarters, Max Chessman and his evil entourage were revising their villainous plans.

“Tell me exactly what happened here tonight,” Max Chessman ordered.

“We detected Batgirl and Mrs. Peel almost immediately after they invaded the grounds,” Christie reported.

“Right. Our countermeasures functioned perfectly,” Sarah said.

“We introduced the knockout drugs into the sprinklers. Seconds later, the intruders were helpless and at our mercy,” Camilla elaborated.

“I take it you showed none?” Chessman asked.

“We were just about to trample them, when we had to investigate a series of explosions from the edge of the estate,” Tiffany explained.

“What did your investigation reveal?”

“One of our intruders had set up some flash bangs to go off at midnight. The timing was fortuitous for the captives. They were gone when we returned to finish them off,” Camilla explained. “By the time we’d raised the alarm, they had escaped the grounds.”

“Both Batgirl and Mrs. Peel have proven themselves to be quite resourceful. How does security stand now?”

“We have men on the monitors around the clock. Armed patrols cover the estate every hour and make rounds inside the house twice as often,” Sarah reported.

“Sir,” Tiffany chimed in, “I’m expecting a dozen vicious dogs I ordered for security to arrive sometime today. We can release them to patrol the grounds after dark. This measure will let us keep the outside patrols in reserve, standing by to be dispatched in the event of a security breach.”

“A sound plan, my dears,” Chessman complimented. Then his mood changed. “Although a bit late!” He glared at them. They cowered in fear.

The moment passed and Chessman was once again his usual congenial self with his quartet of very personal assistants. “I don’t want it implemented until Batgirl and Mrs. Peel are in our power once again.”

“Shall we send some more men to fetch them?” Christie asked.

“I understand Mrs. Peel jailed the two men sent to kill her and Batgirl is notoriously hard to find. In any event, they’ll return in due time,” Chessman assured them. “All we have to do is be patient and prepared, like a spider at the center of its web. When our enemies arrive, I have plans for them.”

“They won’t be staying with us for long, will they, boss?” Camilla asked.

“I’m confident they will not,” he replied. Max Chessman and his shapely sycophants laughed. “Capital. Now, what about our gentleman guest?”

“He’s progressing, but breaking him will be a slow process,” Camilla said.

Chessman frowned. “Despite my plans for the ladies, we may not have the luxury of time. Mrs. Peel reports to her masters at the Ministry and Batgirl’s associates are formidable adversaries.”

“You mean, once your plans for tonight’s intruders are executed, you’re expecting a flood of trouble?” Tiffany asked.

“Precisely, my dear. Doctor Geistglauber will need an additional inducement to cooperate, as I suspected he might. What have we learned about people to whom he is close?”

“His daughter, Heidi, lives in town,” Tiffany said.

“Send some of the men to invite her to join us. Be certain they are persuasive. What else?”

“He has an assistant, Brenda Kendall,” Christie reported. “If nothing else, she will know what he is working on. I haven’t had time to learn whether their relationship is anything other than professional.”

“It may not matter. We’ll have his daughter.” Chessman considered his options. “To be on the safe side, though, send some men to get her, too. Once we have them both, the work should progress more quickly. While the men bring our next batch of guests, keep an eye out for the return of Mrs. Peel and Batgirl. Remember, I want them alive.”

“Yes, sir,” the henchwomen said simultaneously.

Much later that same day, Heidi Geistglauber went about her business, unaware that a gorgeous guardian angel watched over her. The Batgirlcycle followed her from a very discreet distance as she ran errands, had an early lunch, and shopped for groceries. A brief stop at home had given Heidi time to put away her purchases and change into a long blue skirt, white blouse, and a blazer that matched her skirt.

Batgirl noted the sedan with dark tinted windows that trailed behind Heidi as the scientist’s daughter drove to Police Headquarters. Their quarry went inside and the car waited. Batgirl also waited, watching.

She considered confronting Heidi’s other follower, but decided to wait until something was tried. At this point, the car’s driver and any passengers would be able to suggest that Batgirl herself had been stalking the woman. The heroine would have to admit she had been doing so far longer. “Heidi is pretty,” Batgirl muttered. “The driver may be just an admirer going a little overboard.”

Batgirl decided on a more subtle method of inquiry. She dialed her cell phone.

“If you and your department are not prepared to help me, I‘ll find him myself!” Batgirl heard Heidi shout as her father picked up his private, direct line.

“Excuse me for just a moment, ma’am,” Commissioner Gordon said and announced his identity to the caller on his line.

“Hi, Daddy. I hope I didn’t catch you at an inopportune moment.”

“No, Barbara. What can I do for you?” the Commissioner responded as heels clicked across his floor and the door slammed decisively.

“I got your message about lunch this morning and wanted to let you know I’ll have to postpone until tomorrow.”

“Okay, pumpkin. I’d better let you go. Chief O’Hara is just coming back from lunch himself and I have to talk to him. Enjoy your day off. I love you.”

“Thank you for being so understanding, Daddy. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Batgirl hung up. She wouldn’t always be able to monitor her quarry’s activities so easily. Of course, Batgirl had guessed Heidi would see the Commissioner and the topic of their conversation was obvious under the circumstances. She watched Heidi return to the street. The sedan continued to follow the doctor’s daughter. Batgirl trailed behind them as they drove to Doctor Geistglauber’s office and parked.

Heidi did not investigate her father’s office immediately, but made her way to the Dean’s office. A man got out of the sedan and followed her, an unobtrusive distance behind. Batgirl watched the procession through a pair of mini Bat-Binoculars. As Heidi reached the outside of the building containing the Dean’s office, she glanced at her watch.

‘Oh, boy,’ Batgirl said to herself, guessing Heidi’s destination. ‘Daddy is going to hear about this!’ Commissioner Gordon had told both Barbara and Batgirl about his recent conversations with the Dean of Gotham State University. The first had concerned Professor Jonathan Crane’s arrest. More recently, the two officials had butted heads over the disappearance of a security guard and five students, including a Briton named Wendy, Jenny Akasofu, and Delisha Davis. While Batgirl had resolved the cases involving the Scarecrow and the French kidnapper La Esclavage Reine, the Bondage Queen, the tension between the Dean and Commissioner Gordon was palpable.

Batgirl was free to contemplate her father’s imminent dealings with the Dean because the man following Heidi on foot had returned to the automobile. Batgirl was unaware, however, that Tiffany, Max Chessman’s aggressive assistant, had spotted the Batgirlcycle from the back seat of the sedan.

Having been advised of Heidi Geistglauber’s current location, Tiffany said, “So, Batgirl has anticipated our next move. All right. I’ll get the girl as she comes out of the Dean’s office. I want you two to take care of Batgirl.”

“What do you mean by ‘take care of,’ ma’am?” one of the Security Pawns asked.

“I mean grab her and do whatever you want with her, as long as she is still breathing when you take her back to the estate. Mr. Chessman wants her alive!”

“Thank you, ma’am,” the dimmer Security Pawn said, sliding from behind the wheel of the car.

“Get going,” Tiffany ordered. The other Security Pawn obeyed.

The Security Pawns approached Batgirl from opposite directions, licking their lips in anticipation. In a few short minutes, she would literally be theirs. She even helpfully dismounted the Batgirlcycle.

“Batgirl?” the dimmer pawn asked.

“Yes?” the Dark Angel of Gotham City said, turning toward the speaker.

The Security Pawn looped a punch at her. Batgirl ducked beneath it. She was just about to fire her fists into her attacker’s mid-section, when she felt two fists hammer her sides from behind. She groaned and sagged, but did not fall, since the man behind her wound his arms around her shoulders and began to lace his fingers behind her neck.

The man in front of her was smiling. “I am going to enjoy this,” he said, preparing to work her over.

Both Security Pawns were surprised when the Svelte Sentinel raised her arms and slid down the body of the man behind her. The Pawn in front launched his first and hit his partner in the gut. The recipient of the blow grunted, but didn't topple until Batgirl yanked his ankles from beneath him.

“Enjoy this!” Batgirl said. She settled onto her back and shot her legs upward, letting the points of her heels impact the primary attacker’s groin. The man collapsed in front of her, falling to his knees.

“You’ll pay for that–”

The man behind Batgirl would have addressed her in some ungentlemanly manner, if she had not slammed her head backward hard into his body. Batgirl smiled, as both of her opponents were too busy gasping to engage in further chit chat.

She rose to one knee and spun, hitting the man on his knees in the chin and taking him out of action.

“Now,” Batgirl said, moving behind her remaining opponent. “Just what was it you were going to do to me while your friend used me for a punching bag?” She slipped her arms through his and laced her fingers behind his neck. She pressed his head forward and moved her lips close to his ear. “How about this?” The man felt himself enveloped by a haze, as the blood flow to his brain was restricted. Batgirl went on holding him well after his body went limp. Her other opponent moaned.

She had just Batcuffed both of her attackers when she heard the unmistakable click of a gun’s hammer being cocked. “Hold it right there, Batgirl.”

“I’m glad you’re here, officer,” she said without moving. “These men attacked me.”

“Stand up nice and slow and we’ll talk about it,” the security officer suggested.

Meanwhile, Heidi Geistglauber was leaving the Dean’s office. Tiffany waved to her and smiled when Heidi approached.

“Miss Geistglauber?”

“Ms. Geistglauber,” Heidi corrected. She was in a bad mood. It really wasn’t fair to take it out on the other woman, but Heidi didn’t care.

“Right,” Tiffany said. She quickly recovered and went on with her planned performance. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

"Well, now you’ve found me.” Heidi’s mood was keeping her from stopping to continue the conversation. The scientist’s daughter had turned to regard the other woman as she passed. Heidi tossed her head, letting her braided, blonde ponytail flip from its place on her shoulder and fall to the center of her shoulder blades and swing.

“Yes,” Tiffany said. She smiled. She counted on Heidi's frustration, from looking for her missing parent and apparently getting no assistance from anyone, to lower the young woman's defenses. “I have a message from your father.”

The news transformed Heidi’s curt manner. She stopped, turned to face Tiffany, and let a spark of warmth begin to illuminate her blue eyes. “Oh my God! I owe you an apology! He’s gone missing and I can’t get any help from anybody."

“I understand, Ms. Geistglauber.”

“Call me Heidi. Please,” Heidi offered, smiling warmly. The chips of blue ice had melted, revealing the intense spark of intelligence and the faint glistening of a concerned tear.

“Thank you, Heidi."

"What’s the message?”

"Your father has been engaged in a top-secret government project. He wanted to tell you, so you wouldn’t worry, but the work has not permitted him the opportunity.”

“He’s safe?” she asked, her voice cracking. Ordinarily, this slight display of emotion would have annoyed Heidi, but speaking the question that had haunted her since her first conversation with the police made her voice catch in her throat. She felt her chest heave and it seemed like her heart would explode.

“Perfectly.”

Heidi looked at the dark pantsuit Tiffany had affected for her performance and nodded. “Do you know how long I can expect my father to be involved with this project?”

“Well, the project’s initial phase is nearly complete. If you’d like to speak to him, I’m authorized to take you to him. I will have to blindfold you, though, for security reasons.”

“Fine. Let’s go.” As Heidi moved toward the car, she felt herself release a deep breath, as relief seemed to flood every fiber of her being. The trace of tears had vanished from her eyes and she was smiling. Her eyes sparkled and she seemed to be glowing.

“Right this way,” Tiffany invited. Moments later, she closed the passenger door of the sedan on Heidi and laughed to herself. ‘That was easy.’ Then she paused before opening the driver’s side, noticing Batgirl and the Security Pawns being led away by campus security. Tiffany swore, got into the car, and drove away.

On to the second half of this week’s episode

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