IF YOU QUIVER WITH FEAR AT BATGIRL’S POTENTIALLY FINAL MOVEMENT,
READ ON!
BATGIRL’S DEATH OF AT LEAST A THOUSAND CUTS WILL RESUME
IN MERE MOMENTS!
THE UNKINDEST CUT IS YET TO COME!
As the deadly diamond shards slicing through Batgirl’s costume began to tear at her flesh, she considered the appropriateness of maracas as instruments for female musicians. She imagined such a performer shaking her instruments and other assets, with hordes of slobbering admirers cheering with delight. In the light of such a vision, their potential audience appeal seemed unarguable.
A sticky wetness tore the Purple Paragon from her morose thoughts about the decline of morality as expressed in popular American culture and brought her back to what had been her vain struggles against her expertly tied bonds.
The death the Queen of Diamonds had devised for her was certainly well considered. Batgirl’s lower body had already suffered numerous shallow lacerations. Thin trails of blood had darkened her costume considerably. Unless she did something about the stinging swarm of scrap gems swirling around her, she really would have her flesh carved from her bones, be cut to ribbons, diced to driblets, and ultimately reduced to bloody paste.
From side to side she went, then up and down. The weight of her immobilized body kept it in place for the most part, while the much lighter shards flew around her, forming a deadly cloud.
Bound as she was, her body, like the fateful fragments threatening to cut her apart, was at the mercy of the maraca’s malevolent movements. It would be impossible for her to brace herself or keep some of the satanic shards contained. She clearly needed another approach.
In the past, both she and Batman had used the sympathetic vibration of a glass chamber in which they had been imprisoned to shatter the walls and release them. For Batman, it had been Catwoman’s giant echo chamber, in which the Feline Felon had hoped to destroy the Dynamic Duo’s minds, thus transforming them into handsome robots. Batgirl shuddered to think what Catwoman and Eenie, the Princess of Plunder’s henchwoman at the time, would have done with them initially and, especially, when they tired of their caped boy toys. Batgirl had found herself magnetically locked in a phone booth by Clock King with her confidant, Bruce Wayne’s butler, Alfred. Together they would have suffocated, had she not managed to shatter the booth.
Now, Batgirl had only her own voice to generate the proper note that might shatter the orb surrounding her. There were no guarantees, and if she could not find the note fast enough, her vocal chords might well be severed, preventing her escape. She could already feel the sinister pieces grinding against her abdomen.
She shrugged as she dismissed her plan and froze. Even such a very slight movement had been utterly impossible when Marsha had left her to die. Now it was possible. What had changed?
Batgirl moved her arms experimentally and realized the shards had been slicing into her bindings as mercilessly as they had against her body! Her muscles hardened and, with a supreme effort, she broke her wrist bonds. They fell away.
She smiled, but the appearance of her blood soaked forearms made her realize she had only solved her first problem. The fiendish fragments were now penetrating the flesh of her legs deeply, and the lighter lacerations had reached the center of her chest. She was free to move about within her prison, but little else had changed.
As Batgirl began to transform the inkling of an escape plan into more concrete avenues for action, she became aware of the dark shade of purple her legs had affected, much darker than her forearms. She was used to her costume changing color depending on the ambient lighting, but this two-tone look puzzled her.
Horror gripped the Dark Knight Damsel as she realized the cause of the deeper coloration: blood! ‘The lurex encasing my legs must be completely saturated!’
Balancing within the shaking chamber was tricky. Batgirl found she had to hold her arms out and press her palms against the chamber walls to remain in place. Earlier, the majority of her weight had mostly anchored her to the center of the floor. Now, however, she felt the movements of the chamber bounce her body off the walls. The Dominoed Daredoll realized she would have to proceed carefully to keep her head from being dashed against the side of the chamber. Losing consciousness now would be fatal.
She tried to apply pressure to the top of the maraca. After straining for a few minutes of fruitless effort, she realized this approach would never succeed.
Batgirl quickly decided that unsealing the top of the chamber, as Marsha had done to spill the sinister shards inside, would be practically impossible. First, to succeed, Batgirl would have to maintain her balance as she worked to loosen the hatch. Additionally, gravity was against her, helping to hold the top tightly in place.
Even as Batgirl crouched in the death chamber, grateful to feel blood circulating inside her legs once again, the deadly diamonds cut into open wounds, thus digging even more deeply into her flesh. Marsha had bound her for a reason beyond simply being thorough. Had thoroughness been the Queen of Diamonds’ goal, the Gorgeous Guardian of Gotham would certainly have been deprived of her utility belt.
Suddenly, Batgirl swore. For a mild mannered librarian, Barbara Gordon’s vocabulary of epithets was quite impressive. She kept this arsenal of adjectives secret, employing it only in private and rarely at that. Now, she justified her descriptive detonation by wondering whether she had become so used to being deprived of her utility belt, that she forgot to use the tools it contained when they were available! As she considered the delay her clumsy attempts at escape had caused, she realized this bad habit might have easily proven fatal this time. She swore again.
Seconds after her searing, critical self-analysis, she held a powerful miniature drill and was boring holes in the bottom of the chamber. In less than a minute, she was laughing delightedly as diamond shards were spilling from the maraca to the floor. Batgirl kept drilling as the rhythmic rattling softened. It was not long before all of the lethal lancets had fallen out of the chamber.
Batgirl switched from a drill bit to a saw blade on her tiny tool. Seconds later, she had cut an aperture through which she stepped to the floor.
Only after she had crossed the room to the door did Batgirl realize the extent of the blood loss her ordeal had induced. She quickly decided discretion was the better part of valor, made her way to the Batgirlcycle and drove back to Barbara Gordon’s apartment.
Her costume was in tatters. She frowned as she slowly, painfully and gingerly peeled it from her body. Her legs and forearms were covered with dried blood. She bathed and examined her lacerated limbs. Thankfully, all of the wounds had closed. With a Batgirl combination tetanus and antibiotic pill; antiseptics; and rest, her amazing recuperative powers would have her back in fighting shape before the end of the week.
Irritatingly, however, she would need to keep her lovely, long legs covered to hide the damage in the near future. The need to wear long sleeves was less of a problem, but was still inconvenient. Her abdomen was not as badly damaged and would heal much more quickly. Barbara crawled carefully into bed and surrendered almost instantly to dreamless sleep.
“So,” the Minstrel said, “the Queen of Diamonds has struck.”
“Do you know if she wants to deal?” Octavia asked, regarding him over the rim of a coffee cup.
“I’ll find out now,” he replied, putting the newspaper aside and dialing the telephone.
“Glitz Hotel,” the voice on the other end said.
“Good morning,” the Minstrel said. “This is Mr. Brahms. I wonder if anyone left a message for me last night?”
“I’ll check,” the clerk promised.
A moment later, it was apparent the clerk had kept his promise. “Yes, Mr. Brahms. You have one message. I’ll transfer you to it.”
Marsha’s recorded voice came on the line. “Good morning, darling. I think I’ve managed to pick up the items for which you were looking. I suggest we meet here for lunch to talk things over. I’ll set up the details and see you then. Goodbye.”
“We’re having lunch with Marsha at the Glitz.”
“What’s on our agenda until then?”
“Shopping for parts.”
“Parts?”
“Yes, Octavia. Once we acquire the diamonds from Marsha, we’ll be prepared to enter the initial testing phase of my Operation High Cs. For that project, I need a few things. We’ll buy what we need this morning and negotiate with the Queen of Diamonds over lunch.”
“What happens when we have the diamonds?”
“I begin to demonstrate my brilliance to the citizens of Gotham City, so that when I make my ultimate demands, they will not hesitate to grant our wildest wishes.”
“You’re already taken seriously, Minstrel. If the cops realized we were operating, the first thing they would do would be to call Batman and Robin to try and stop us.”
“When the time comes to deal with that ridiculous reformer, I’ll shake off his head as well as Robin’s and we’ll be rid of both of them once and for all.”
“Anymore, it isn’t just Batman and Robin we have to worry about,” Octavia warned.
“Batgirl is bound for an uncertain fate on foreign shores and the two new lady crimefighters will hopefully think twice about challenging me after the Dynamic Duo’s demise.”
“You mean Batwoman and Flamebird?”
“I do.”
“What if they persist in pestering us?”
Minstrel had taken up his lute in preparation for a spontaneous performance. The note he played, however, was far from melodious. “The stakes will be too high to toy with our enemies. I hesitate to kill, Octavia, but we’ll do what is necessary.”
“Does that go for Batgirl as well?”
“I doubt we’ll be seeing her any time soon.”
“Perhaps not, but where did the men say she was bound when they left her?”
“I don’t remember hearing a thing about it. Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen the men.” Suddenly, he snapped his fingers and stood. “That probably means they failed.”
“So, we’ll take off the kid gloves and deal with Batgirl should the need arise?”
The Minstrel sighed. “Regrettably, I suppose we must, Octavia.”
“Good,” she said, setting down her coffee cup with a smile. “I agree. Who knows? Someone else may have eliminated Batman by then.”
Octavia had no way of knowing how closely her optimistic supposition mirrored reality. A sinister scenario had begun to unfold at dawn that morning when the Dynamic Duo had responded to a silent alarm.
“Gosh, Batman, I thought we might get a rare quiet night.”
“Since crime never sleeps, old chum,” Batman had begun, “our rest must once again be deferred.” The Batmobile had pulled to a stop before one of Gotham City’s steel and glass monoliths.
“It’s too tall to simply throw a rope to the roof,” Batman had observed.
“I’ll set up the Batzooka,” Robin had said. Moments later, he had reported the device was ready.
“Ready! Aim! Fire!” Once the Batrope had dangled from the side of the building, the Dynamic Duo had begun to Batclimb.
“Batman, this building is connected to a residence apartment where hundreds of talented performers and others connected with Gotham City’s arts community live. Which of their priceless possessions do you think the crooks are after?”
“I’m not sure, Robin. This building also houses a company that handles payroll for thousands of workers here in Gotham City. There is no telling how much the payrolls distributed from here could tempt a criminal mind.”
“You think the crooks are after that information to use as the basis for a new crime wave?”
Batman had snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it! Connecting the offices in this building and the apartments in the other is one of Gotham City’s most posh eateries.”
“Holy Bird’s Eye View! The Crown Observatory, where suits mingle with the most heavenly bodies to be found in the Gotham City arts community.”
“Precisely,” Batman had agreed. “I’m delighted you’re familiar with their advertising. It speaks to your ongoing study of the local theater scene.”
“There’s nothing quite like live theater, Batman. Wait a minute! The Crown Observatory is closed for remodeling!”
“Robin, you’ve done it again! I’ve just recalled something. Bruce Wayne was invited to a party that had to be rescheduled because of the work.”
“I wonder what the crooks are after.”
“We’ll know soon enough.”
On the roof, Robin had pointed through a skylight at a slightly open door. Batman had nodded and opened the skylight with the Batkey. The Dynamic Duo had silently entered the restaurant, where voices from beyond the door could clearly be heard.
“I’ve got it!” a woman’s voice had said triumphantly.
“It took you long enough!” another woman had said critically.
“Leave me alone, Ebony. Could you have done it faster?”
“No, Ivory. The boss didn’t send me to open locks.”
“I was under the impression you were here to carry my tools and the loot. Here. Clean out this cabinet while I open the next.”
“They’re robbing the kitchen. What could they possibly be stealing?” Robin had softly asked.
Batman had leaned close to Robin’s ear. “Of course! I should have remembered it sooner. The Crown Observatory has hired world-famous chef, Shockeye Griggs, who always uses silver, bejeweled cooking utensils,” he had whispered excitedly. “The remodeling is being done to protect his equipment.”
“Chef Griggs must be good."
“He taught chefs like Vincent Trivisano at his world-famous cooking school.”
“Trivisano made a fabulous meal for Legs Parker’s wedding. The Police Benevolent Society invited Zoltan Zorba and all of Gotham’s poor to attend after Batgirl, the police, and I arrested Legs and her wedding party,” Robin had recalled.
“Let’s put a stop to this villainy, chum.”
“Right you are, Batman."
The Dynamic Duo had drawn their Batarangs and approached the door stealthily.
“How are we for time?” Ebony had asked.
“Your time is up! It’s the end of the line for both of you criminals!” Batman had announced, bursting through the doors.
Ivory had turned from the lock she was opening, pulled open the cupboard door, and faced the newcomers with a coy smile. “We’re right on schedule,” she had said quietly.
“Surrender while you can!” Robin had ordered.
“Forgetaboutit!” Ebony had said with a laugh.
“Not a chance!” Ivory had agreed, joining her perfidious partner.
Despite the robbers having both been women and brunettes, they were a picture of contrasts. Ebony was African-American, tall, and had short hair. She wore a white half top, a short skirt, and thigh high boots. Her black belt showcased her hips, and black script letters spelled her name across her right breast. A matching musical note adorned the other half of her top. Ivory was a short, delicate, Asian-American woman dressed all in black. White letters spelled her name across her left breast and her musical note adorned the right side of her half top. Long black hair fell to where a white belt encircled her waist and showcased her hips. Leather pants sheathed her lovely lower body. Both had produced rolling pins and slowly, deliberately approached the heroes.
Batman and Robin had flung their Batarangs.
The weapons had bounced off of a mirror in front of them, causing both to whirl toward the real source of danger. Ebony and Ivory had always been behind them. The Dynamic Duo’s reaction had been a split second too late. The rolling pins had viciously impacted their heads and pain had washed over them. Stars had swum before their vision for a few seconds, before their bodies had collapsed, and black, velvety oblivion had enveloped them.
Ivory had tapped a button on a cell phone. After a moment, she had spoken. “Boss, we got them, just like you said we would.”
“Excellent,” a distorted voice had said from the other end of the connection. “What about the rest of the operation?”
“We’ll have finished before the Winged Wonders wake up.”
Laughter had come to Ivory’s ear. “Good. Finish cleaning out the kitchen and prepare to take out the trash. Call me when they awaken. I’ll be waiting.”
“We didn’t hit them that hard,” Ivory had protested, speculatively shrugging. “Did we?”
When she had turned to Ebony, the woman was already crouched over Batman. “I’ll deal with them. You finish in the kitchen.”
Ivory had laughed. “All their cupboards will be bare in a very few minutes.”
“Right,” Ebony had agreed, chuckling, “and we’ll be rid of these rodents as well.”
The Dynamic Duo’s attackers were known to the Dark Knight. As he revived, his perceptions took shape, merging with his recollection of the events since his arrival, as these impressions coalesced with his concrete memories. The pair had been part of a troupe of criminals named for fairy princesses who tried to shift suspicion for the death they had arranged for Batman and Robin onto the Penguin. On that occasion, the African-American had called herself Black Beauty and the Asian-American had been called Rapunzel.
A low moan signaled Robin had begun to revive.
“They’re waking up,” Ivory observed.
“Should we call the boss now or wait for them to fully recover?”
“Let’s finish the job,” Ivory suggested.
Robin’s eyes fluttered open and he tried unsuccessfully to move. Batman’s experimental attempts revealed slender metal threads binding his arms tightly together above his head, with his legs similarly restrained. His eyes told him Robin had been entwined in exactly the same way.
“What is this sinister stuff?” Robin demanded, thrashing vainly, feeling the metal cut into his flesh.
“It’s piano wire, Boy Blunder,” Ebony answered. “I’d be more careful, if I were you. We didn’t plan for you to bleed to death, but it could happen.”
“Wouldn’t that be tragic?” Ivory asked rhetorically. “You see, guys, it’s time for both of you to face the music.” Both women laughed wickedly before Ivory contacted the owner of the distorted voice, who spoke to everyone through speakers. “You’re on, boss. The prisoners can hear you.”
“Welcome back to the land of the living, Batman and Robin,” the distorted voice said. “I’m afraid you’ll find your stay on this side of the grave to be very brief.” Distorted laughter was echoed by the henchwomen’s mirth.
“You’ve impersonated the Penguin in the past,” Batman declared.
“Don’t even try to convince us you’re Catwoman,” Robin warned.
“I’ll be keeping my little secret, Dynamic Duo. As for the two of you, do you know where you are?”
“You’ve placed us in the famous glass elevator that whisks patrons from the valet parking ramp to the Crown Observatory,” Batman said.
“Excellent, Batman. As you said, the entire structure is constructed of glass. It’s really quite an engineering marvel, as well as being beautiful. Normally, it’s strong as well, but under certain circumstances, it can be made to be quite – fragile.”
“You mean, the only thing keeping Batman and me from plunging to the street, dozens of floors below, is the glass floor of this car?”
“You’re catching on, Boy Blunder, and the only thing that keeps the car my musical minions are about to imprison you in from swinging wildly in the wind are the glass walls of the shaft the elevator occupies. Girls, get their belts.”
The Dynamic Duo’s curvaceous captors approached, crouched over them, and unbuckled their utility belts with loving care. Slowly Ebony and Ivory withdrew the belts from the captives’ waists and stepped back to the safety of the restaurant floor. “Okay, boss,” Ivory said.
“We’ve got them,” Ebony concurred.
“Good,” the voice of the phone said, laughing. Moments later, it continued, “I trust the elevator will remain elevated.”
“I’ve isolated the power supply to the elevator so it can only be tapped from here,” Ivory reported. “I’ll need it to power the device.”
“Fine. Seal them in.”
“With pleasure,” Ebony said. She stepped forward and pressed the “Close Doors” button. Quickly she backed out as a pair of glass panels merged between the henchwoman and her victims. “Hand me my gun, partner.”
“You got it.”
Ebony used a calk gun to apply a white substance with the viscosity of batter to the gap between the glass doors. She had started at the top and crouched to extend the line all the way to the floor. Before rising, she looked over her handiwork with a critical eye. Two additional squirts satisfied her and she stepped back with a nod and a laugh.
“The Bat-Tomb is finished, boss,” Ebony said with a wicked laugh.
“Good work, Ebony.” The henchwomen in the deserted restaurant could still hear their boss through the speaker phone, while the mysterious villain’s voice came through a speaker in the elevator car. “All right, Dynamic Dingbats, you’ve been entombed in there with super fast-hardening plaster. If it hasn’t dried already, it will have by the time we finish our little talk. You needn’t worry, though. I doubt that the rest of that car is airtight. Besides, you won’t be around long enough to suffocate, anyway. Ivory, connect the device.”
“Right, boss,” the Asian-American said. She pressed a sticky, flat panel against the glass and spliced trailing wires through the removed panel of the elevator calling-button and into the controls. Then, she brushed her fingers across the panel to activate it. Displays illuminated on the device, which began to hum. Ivory concluded the setup by using a hinge on the bottom to enable the prisoners to see the displays through the glass doors.
“What is that?” Robin asked.
“Just a fancy music player. These displays will let you visually follow the level of bass and pitch of a piece of music. It’s perfectly ordinary, except for this,” Ivory said. She plugged an attachment into the earphone jack and pressed the suction cup at the end of a short cable against the glass.
“What might that be?” Batman asked, staring curiously at the attachment.
“It’s an earpiece, modified to amplify sounds resonating within a specific range–”
“Holy Sonic Boom! The Minstrel uses sound waves as weapons!” Robin said.
“Very clever, Boy Wonder,” the distorted voice on the speaker phone complimented. “Even so, you’re wrong. Care to guess again?”
Robin said nothing.
“I’d better give you a hint. Ivory, start the tape,” the distorted voice ordered.
The Asian underling pressed another button and piano music sounded from the player.
“I’ve heard this piece before,” Batman said. He listened for another moment. “Yes, the style is unmistakable. The pianist is Chandell.”
“It’s a pirated copy of a performance the criminal concert pianist gave at Gotham Town Hall,” the voice on the phone revealed.
“Of course!” Batman exclaimed. “Chandell played an erroneous C minor chord in Dance Arab toward the end of his performance that enabled his gang to rob the Burmese Import Company.”
“That false note is what put us on his trail in the first place, years ago,” Robin recalled aloud.
“Ancient history, my soon to be Dead Duo,” the voice said. “History, however, tends to repeat itself, and this episode from your past and the arrest you just made inspired me. You see, I’ve been following your exploits for several years now.”
“Holy Repeat Performance! Doe, Rae, and Mimi committed that robbery years ago, and we just sent them back to prison the other day.”
“This time, Chandell’s false note will have a dramatically different effect. It will trigger a sound wave that will shatter every pane of glass within a certain radius – that includes your elevator car and the shaft we’ve stopped it in. When the glass shatters, you two will drop all the way down to the sidewalk. I’m expecting each of you to make quite a big impression.”
“Holy Unsympathetic Vibration!”
“You’ve forgotten one thing,” Batman warned.
“What, pray tell?”
“The police will respond to the alarm you set off just like Robin and I did.”
“I doubt it, boys. The cops will have several potential targets a criminal might consider in each of the buildings to which the Crown Observatory is connected. I seriously doubt you’ll be found it time. In the final analysis, another note in a musically-oriented symphony of crime will have been played to perfection. Goodbye, Batman and Robin. This time, forever.” When the voice stopped laughing, the line went dead.
Ivory spoke into her cell phone. “It’s time you Winged Wonders had your first flying lesson. It’s too bad that, once again, you’ll demonstrate man cannot fly.” She clicked off the phone, waved at the doomed duo and turned away, reaching for her tools and one bag of loot with a delighted laugh. “Bye, bye.”
Ebony pressed her lips against the glass and kissed it. “You two are going down,”she mouthed exaggeratedly. Then she picked up the remainder of the loot and followed her partner from the establishment.
Batman and Robin stared at each other as Chandell’s recorded concert continued.
“Holy Here We Go Again, Batman! What is it with crooks and elevators recently?”
“I don’t know, Robin, but we can ponder that question later. Getting out of here is our immediate concern.”
Minutes passed. Their struggles against the piano wire proved ineffective.
“The concert is almost over, Batman,” Robin said.
“Yes, the moment of truth is nearly at hand.”
“All my struggling has done against this wicked wire is make me bleed all over it,” the younger crime fighter complained. “Have you made any progress?”
“Not against this perfidious piano wire, but I do have an idea.”
“What?”
“If I can just reach my Wrist Bat-Radio, we may have one slim chance.”
“They thought they deprived us of all our technical tricks when they took our utility belts,” Robin observed.
“Dance Arab is starting. Listen closely, old chum.”
The deadly musical piece began to play.
“You might be able to contact help, but that incorrect note will play any second! They’ll never make it in time!”
“No, Robin. I’m setting the radio to receive.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Trust me, Robin. For the next sixty seconds, we must remain absolutely silent.”
Robin obeyed and waited for the deadly distorted note, and the end. Suddenly, a burst of electronic noise blared from Batman’s radio. By the time the noise had abated, Chandell’s next musical selection was playing.
“You did it, Batman! How?”
“It was simple. I have spent many hours with the Bat-Sound Analyzer studying that particular false note. I learned how to mask it with a combination of counteracting notes.”
“That was quick thinking! But, why did you want it quiet if your plan was to drown out the note?”
“My plan was a little more complex than that, Robin. Chandell imbued that note with subsonic characteristics to trigger a bomb. The signal, therefore, would have been on a frequency beyond that of human hearing. I had to use the Wrist Bat-Radio to interfere with Chandell’s transmission and prevent it from having the desired, destructive effect on this glass around us. The Wrist Bat-Radio is a very delicate instrument. One slight mistake in manipulating the frequency would have proven fatal.”
“Will the note play again when the recording repeats?”
“No. Someone will arrive for work and discover us before that could possibly happen. Besides, I think the recording will end when the concert does.”
“Ebony and Ivory will be long gone by the time we are released.”
“I’m sure we’ll catch them next time,” Batman assured him. “Tomorrow is another day.”
Later, in a private meeting room at the Glitz, the Grand Mogul announced the Queen of Diamonds’ guests. “The Minstrel and his consort, Octavia.”
“Welcome, darling. Please sit down. Lunch will be served in just a moment. After that, we can talk business.”
The villains enjoyed a first class luncheon. Once the dishes had been cleared, the Minstrel took command of the conversation. “So, Marsha, I read the Transval Tears have been stolen. I assume you were behind the theft and that my suggestion prompted the crime?”
“You’re quite correct, Minstrel. I gather you want one or both of the larger stones.”
“The Eye of Excelsior or the Heart of Hope. Yes, I’m prepared to pay you a lot of money for them.”
“I’m certain your offer would be most generous, but I don’t want your money.”
“You don’t? I see,” the Minstrel said, hesitantly. “Well, what do you want?”
“I want the one diamond in Gotham City even more valuable than either of the stones you mentioned. In fact, this diamond may be the purest ever known.”
“What are you talking about?” Octavia demanded. “We researched every diamond that has ever been for sale in Gotham City.”
Marsha raised her hand to stop Octavia. “This diamond has never been for sale and never will be. The only reason I ask you for it is that you’re supposed to be a genius,” she said, indicating the Minstrel. “It will take a genius to find it.”
The Minstrel threw his head back and laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Octavia demanded. “She’s insisting we pull a job she can’t, for some reason. I can’t believe you’re going to allow yourself to be influenced by flattery!”
“You’re quite right, Octavia, but I may have to be shaking off Batman’s head sooner than I had planned. You see, Marsha is about to ask us to steal the Bat-Diamond from the Caped Crusader!”
Marsha looked impressed. “Perhaps you are a genius, darling.”
“Why don’t you just get it yourself?” Octavia asked snidely.
“I tried,” Marsha said, regarding the other woman with a steady, cold stare. “I would have succeeded, too, if that two-timing fink, Batman, hadn’t left me at the altar. Crime has never been the same since then. I just can’t bring myself to face him alone. I’m surprised at myself for that because I’ve been furious with him since our aborted wedding. The problem is, I can’t simply retire, either.”
Sympathy flickered across Octavia’s eyes. “Maybe you should tell us about this diamond,” she suggested.
Marsha’s voice betrayed her excitement as she began discussing the one diamond she had coveted for years. “The Bat-Diamond weighs more than 10,000 carats. It’s rumored to be huge and to power the Batcomputer. It is kept in the Batcave, which is the only reason I don’t posses it today.”
“And it is believed,” Octavia observed, “that only Batman and Robin know where the Batcave is.”
“Precisely.”
“What do you really know about it, though?” the Minstrel asked. “You’ve been talking about rumors.”
“Once, I had Robin in my power. I took the opportunity to quiz him about the Bat-Diamond. He told me it was far more pure than a natural diamond and that a super-hydraulic Bat-Press was used periodically to manufacture a new one. The process typically takes months and is done in the Batcave. I asked Robin where it was, but even as my love slave his training prevented him from revealing either the Batcave’s location or his secret identity.”
”So,” the Minstrel summarized, “you’ll exchange both the Eye of Excelsior and the Heart of Hope for the Bat-Diamond?”
“That’s the deal, darling. Take it or leave it.”
“May we see what we’ll be getting?” Octavia asked.
Marsha clapped, summoning the Grand Mogul, who approached with a case full of jewels he opened for Octavia to examine “Help yourself, darling,” Marsha said with a dismissive wave of her hand. Then she locked eyes with Octavia. “Just be sure to give them back!”
Octavia smiled and took the two largest gems in her hands. She turned around and walked beneath the chandelier. One at a time, she lifted them and stared as they sparkled in the light. “They’re lovely.” A moment later, she returned them to the case on the table. “Your diamonds,” she said.
“So, Minstrel, darling," the Queen of Diamonds persisted, "you’ve heard my offer. What do you think?”
“I think it’s worth considering. Mr. Brahms will leave you a message here at the hotel if I decide to accept.” He and Octavia stood.
“How long do you want to think about it?” Marsha asked.
“I’ll have decided within a couple of days.”
“Very well,” Marsha said. “Just remember, you aren’t the only party in the world to whom I can sell those stones.”
“Thank you for seeing us, Marsha,” the Minstrel said as he and his lady departed.
A short time later, the Minstrel and Octavia were driving away from the Glitz Hotel. “The Queen of Diamonds is asking for the moon,” Octavia said.
“The challenge of giving it to her is enticing, though, Octavia,” the handsome rogue behind the wheel replied.
“You’re not seriously considering trying to heist the Bat-Diamond?” she asked incredulously.
“How effective do you imagine Batman would be in the technological stone age?”
“He has more than the Batcomputer going for him, you know.”
Minstrel looked sharply toward her, but softened his face before she saw the naked hate there. Then, he laughed. “Without his famous computer, we can more easily direct him. Pull his strings like a marionette and when he arrives in our trap, cut his strings and send him crashing to the floor, never to rise again.”
“But we have to get the diamond first. How do we do that?”
“To get the gem, we’ll have to create a situation in which he will feel compelled to obey us. Capturing and threatening Robin would do the trick.”
“Then there are always his lady friends,” Octavia pointed out in a voice tainted with an Arctic chill.
“True,” the Minstrel mused. “Or Gotham City itself could be threatened. Since I planned to place the city at risk anyway–”
“I thought you needed the gems for your masterplan.”
“I do.”
“Well, then, these should make you happy.” Octavia presented the Eye of Excelsior and the Heart of Hope. The Minstrel slammed on the brakes and the car screeched to a halt alongside the curb.
“What have you done?!”
“I switched them when I looked at the gems. The gentlemen I commissioned to make the fakes I switched them with was highly recommended. His work even fooled French Freddy ‘Touche,’ the Fence.”
“Your Monsieur DuLac is well regarded, but how long do you imagine they will fool Marsha?”
“More than long enough. She will have no reason to even look at the stones for weeks,” Octavia responded. “I also have a faux Midnight Star we can turn in for the insurance reward.”
“Octavia, you know I strive to deal with our criminal colleagues in an above-board manner.”
“And you have to guard against being double-crossed in those dealings. Catwoman brought her goons to our negotiations to beat you into submission and do God-knows-what to me! Only your preparedness and Batman’s intervention brought us through the experience unscathed. And now look at what Marsha wants in exchange for the jewels you put her on to. Only Batman knows where the Bat-Diamond is. She deserves what I did to her and there is nothing you can say that will change my mind!”
“Killer Moth didn’t try to double-cross me.”
“Killer Moth couldn’t double-cross an infant!”
“Do you know something?”
“What?”
“You are beautiful when you’re angry, Octavia.”
“Flatterer!” she accused. “You’re just changing the subject because you’re losing the argument.”
The Minstrel picked the gems out of her hands and examined them. “Maybe we should add these to your collection,” he said with a smile.
“You are so gracious in defeat,” Octavia said, smiling at him as he handed the jewels back to her and started the car.
“I just enjoy making up after the fight.”
Octavia laughed. “What are your plans, once you’ve returned to my good graces?”
“We’ll begin the initial testing for Operation High Cs. The Gotham City Library Association is having a fund-raiser at Gotham Square Gardens. Several ice sculptures will honor the memory of Jack London. Those will do nicely as test subjects and we won’t even need any of the larger gems to shatter them.”
“What are they for again?”
“To focus the sound waves like a lens. The crystalline structure of the ice sculptures will enable us to shatter them quite easily and frighten our audience. Our victims will have no idea that our weapon would be useless against them in the short time we’ll be able to use it against them before they flee. They’ll surrender enough loot to let us move beyond the prototype stage.”
The perfidious pair laughed until the car pulled to a stop at the Gotham National Bank, where the Minstrel kept Octavia’s illicit jewels in a safe deposit box.
When Marsha returned from the Glitz Hotel to her palatial hideout, she held the Eye of Excelsior and the Heart of Hope to admire as Octavia had. The Queen of Diamonds held them up to the light of her crystal chandelier and smiled as the light made them shimmer brightly. After a moment, though, she frowned. She set the gems down and clapped.
The Grand Mogul promptly appeared. “Yes, your Highness?”
“What is your opinion of these diamonds?”
“They are exquisite, your Highness.”
“Look at them, you fool! Do you think they are genuine?”
The Grand Mogul screwed a jeweler’s glass into his eye and looked at the diamonds closely. He examined one, then the other, and hesitantly returned to the first.
“Well?” Marsha asked petulantly.
“An expert’s opinion is called for, your Highness.”
“Probably,” Marsha agreed grudgingly. “I smell a Batgirl ploy. She probably switched them ahead of time as a means to track me. Since I didn’t see a homing device inside them, she probably coated them with radioactive dust or something. Not, of course, that it will do her any good now.” Marsha laughed and continued. “See that some of your more junior subordinates clean up the mess Aunt Hilda’s diamond shards will have made of Batgirl by now.”
“Yes, your Highness.”
“I’ll also need a Geiger counter.”
“Yes, your Highness.”
Marsha paced and began to think aloud. “It might not have been Batgirl. Batman and Robin haven’t been heard from at all since they captured that trio of henchwomen.” Marsha’s eyes narrowed. “I have a plan to dispose of Batman, if that two-timing fink dares to interfere with me, that will make what I did to Batgirl look like a picnic. I’ve never paid him back properly for leaving me at the altar, and he deserves it.
“There is a third possibility, of course,” Marsha said, concluding her analysis. “We could have stolen the actual jewels and Minstrel somehow switched them. If I determine Minstrel has cheated me, I’ll be well prepared for him before we meet again, and his reception will be rather hostile.” Marsha paused to giggle. “First things first, however. Grand Mogul, get me a gem expert and see that these diamonds are examined!”
“Yes, your Highness.”
Batgirl had the Siren, the Minstrel, and Marsha, Queen of Diamonds all to track down and put behind bars. Compounding the enormity of the task she had set for herself were the wounds still healing along her limbs. As she worked the day after her ordeal in Marsha’s maraca, she considered the problem in its entirety. Two things, Batgirl realized, linked the three criminals and their activities -- music and gems, particularly diamonds.
She reviewed the recent crimes, trying to detect a pattern as Barbara Gordon went through the mundane tasks her job as head librarian demanded. Marsha tried to kill her and frame the Minstrel for the crime. Marsha had been stealing the Transval Tears when the Curved Crusader had tried to thwart the Queen of Diamonds’ plans. Octavia, who worked for the Minstrel, had tried to kill her when she tried to prevent the theft of a sapphire and a collection of diamonds. The Siren, who had also tried to kill her, had been after the Jovian Jewels at the time.
The problem still obsessed her when Barbara returned to her apartment late that afternoon. Talking out loud to her pet bird sometimes helped her organize her thoughts. “Listen, Charlie. I know where Marsha is hiding, and I know she is working with the Minstrel. I saw Minstrel drop off Siren. They might also be working together. If I go after one, the others might slip away.” She paced her apartment. “There must be a connection.” Suddenly, she snapped her fingers. “Jewels,“ Barbara murmured. “I wonder.” Moments later she was looking through police surveillance records on her computer. “French Freddy the Fence is in jail. Even though he has been out on furlough, I doubt he’d have had time to do the job. Whom could they use to dispose of their loot?”
Suddenly, a possible answer appeared on her screen. “Ah, ha! A shady French jeweler named DuLac is staying at the Grotto Arms. I think Batgirl should pay him a visit before he skips town.” Decisively she crossed her bedroom and spun the wall to undergo her tantalizing transformation. Batgirl was going to interview the mysterious Monsieur DuLac.
The combination of the limousine with its tinted windows and the tall, muscular driver wearing a turban as he washed the car told Batgirl there would soon be some sort of criminal activity at the Grotto Arms. She found a spot across the street where a wooden fence screened her from the thug’s view while she watched him through the slats of the fence.
All seemed innocent enough until a well-dressed man emerged from the lobby and, in a heavy French accent, asked the doorman to hail him a taxi.
The man wearing a turban interceded, pushing the doorman aside. “Monsieur DuLac?”
“Oui?” the Frenchman inquired.
“The Queen of Diamonds has granted you an audience. I am her Grand Mogul and will take you into her royal presence.”
“I didn’t request an audience with ze Queen of Diamonds.”
“That is unimportant. Please step into the car.”
“I have another matter to attend to just now, so if you could come back–”
“You will come – now!” The big man took hold of the Frenchman’s wrist, opened the back of the car, and inexorably pushed him inside. The car pulled away seconds later.
Batgirl’s mind was racing. She knew where the limousine was going. She also knew she could reach Marsha’s hideout faster. She did not know what the Queen of Diamonds wanted with the Frenchmen. Batgirl guided her motorcycle into traffic and roared toward the criminals’ hideout.
“Thank your for coming so quickly, Monsieur DuLac,” Marsha said as the Grand Mogul led him into her presence. She had been lying decoratively on a cushion and regarding her reflection. As he entered, she turned her attention to her guest, rolling onto one hip and resting her head in one hand.
“With all due respect, mademoiselle, I do not take kindly to ze manner in which I was brought here, however, your man explained my objections would not be taken seriously.”
“I want you to evaluate some gems for me, darling,” Marsha announced, ignoring his protests. She sat up and clapped to summon another guardian, who brought in the ersatz Eye of Excelsior and Heart of Hope that DuLac himself had made!
“They are diamonds,” DuLac said after flicking a disinterested glance at the gems.
“I was hoping for a little more information than that, darling,” Marsha said drily.
Monsieur Du Lac folded his arms. “I will say nothing. I do not approve of ze shabby treatment you have shown me.”
Marsha settled onto her back. “Very well,” she said, clapping to summon more of her guardians. They appeared brandishing short, sharp scimitars. “Guardians, Monsieur DuLac has disappointed me. Show him to the alley outside and carve him into camel food.”
“Yes, your Highness,” the Grand Mogul said, seizing DuLac’s arm.
“Wait!” Monsieur DuLac screamed. The Queen of Diamonds made no move as the Frenchman tried to pull away from the Grand Mogul. “S’il vous plait!” he shrieked as his captors dragged him toward a door.
"Release him!” Marsha commanded. “There will be no third chances, Monsieur DuLac!” she warned.
Monsieur DuLac crossed the room, picked up the Eye of Excelsior, and turned it in the light. Then he screwed a jeweler’s glass into his eye and nodded. He put the gem down and picked up the Heart of Hope. After a similar examination, he put his jeweler’s glass away and nodded. “Zey are exquisite, mademoiselle.”
“Is that all?” Marsha demanded.
“Non, mademoiselle. I regret to inform you. Zey are paste. Ze artist who made them is, however, a genius.”
Marsha stood and picked up both fake diamonds. “Fakes!” she cried. Her voice began to quake. “Outrageous!” Then her baleful gaze fell upon the messenger. “Remove him!”
The Queen of Diamonds’ guardians began to drag the hapless jeweler from her presence, kicking and screaming once again.
“Mademoiselle!” Monsieur DuLac whimpered. He was terrified. The Queen of Diamonds had instructed her men to slaughter him and, unless he distracted her from her anger, nothing would save him from the fate she had commanded.
Marsha flung the fake stones in her hand against a wall and whirled to regard the struggling man who had dared to interrupt her. She saw sheer terror in his pale face as her guardians reached the door. “Oh,” she said, brightening. “My apologies, darling. I almost forgot. See that Monsieur DuLac is returned to his hotel – intact.”
The Frenchman relaxed and was literally carried away.
From her hidden vantage point, Batgirl also relaxed. A broad smile spread across her face, as she realized how she could capture the gang without risking further injury. She waited a moment longer and silently approached the Queen of Diamonds’ chambers.
As Batgirl crept into the criminal’s inner sanctum, Marsha picked up the fake diamonds and a hammer. She then took them to a table, where she smashed them vengefully, reducing them to glittering debris.
Behind her, Batgirl crouched besides the Queen of Diamonds cushion, searching. She grinned as she located a small wooden box. Opening it, Batgirl found what she expected. She sat down on the cushion and waited for Marsha to finish destroying the fake diamonds.
“There,” the lovely lawbreaker said. “He was right. They were paste. I could never have done that to the real diamonds. All I have to do now is find out whether Minstrel, Batgirl, or that two-timing Batman is behind the switch.”
“I’m innocent, Marsha, but you must have heard that crime doesn’t pay.”
The Queen of Diamonds whirled toward the voice. “Batgirl! You’re alive. That’s impossible!”
“Wonders never cease, Marsha.”
“No!” Marsha’s fear was palpable as she stared at he purple-clad paragon, sitting calmly on her cushion. Then, with great effort, the Queen of Diamonds pulled herself together and clapped. Her guardians entered, brandishing their scimitars.
“Explain Batgirl’s presence in my chambers when she is supposed to be dead!” Batgirl grinned, suppressing a laugh. The guardians stared at her in amazement, saying nothing.
“Well?” Marsha demanded, resting her hands on her hips. After glaring at each man in turn, she returned her attention to the entire room. “We’ll discuss this later. For now, cut her to ribbons!”
Batgirl remained still as Marsha’s guardians approached her menacingly, forming a semicircle before her.
From her position across the room, Marsha leaned delightedly toward the execution her men were about to carry out. “This is working out better than I had planned. Cut her down quickly, men. Hurry!” Marsha’s guardians raised their scimitars. “Yes! Get her!” The Queen of Diamonds laughed. “Imagine! Batgirl carved into sushi before my very eyes!”
“Please put your swords on the floor, gentlemen,” Batgirl said. Marsha stared with shock, surprise, and dismay as her guardians obeyed. “Now,” Batgirl went on, “kindly seize the Queen of Diamonds.”
“What is the meaning of this?!” Marsha demanded, outraged. Her eyes widened as her men turned to approach her. Most had a dart protruding from their bare chests, while the Grand Mogul had one stuck in his neck. “No! This isn’t fair. She’s using my own love darts against me!”
“That’s right, Marsha. I imagine they cause their victims to fall madly in love with the first member of the opposite sex they encounter. Your darts have put them on my side. Well done, men.” Batgirl’s approving glance noted Marsha’s guardians had taken their former mistress in a firm grip.
“What shall we do with her for you, Batgirl?” the Grand Mogul asked. “We only want to please you.”
‘Escort her to her cushion and see that she is comfortable until the police come. When they do, you will cooperate with them in everything. I will not tolerate resistance. Oh, before they arrive, the driver who is attending to Mr. DuLac will return. Seize him as well and turn him over to the police, along with Marsha and yourselves.”
“As you wish, Batgirl.”
Gotham’s Gorgeous Guardian stood over Marsha and regarded her with hands on shapely hips. “Question time, Marsha. Where are the Minstrel and the Siren?”
Marsh turned and picked up her hand-held mirror. She gazed into it lovingly as she purred, “I have no idea, darling.”
“Are you certain, Marsha? I’m sure your men could be very persuasive if I choose to ask them to help you remember.”
“You wouldn’t!” Marsha said as she recalled the qualifications that had persuaded her to hire each of her henchmen. “You’re supposed to be one of the good guys!”
“Do you recall hearing why Joker could not hire any henchmen a couple of Christmases or, for that matter, ever again?” Batgirl asked innocently.
Both women recalled the stories of the treatment Batgirl had given the last henchmen the Joker had hired, after he had allowed them to paw her, prompting the brutal punishment she had meted out. The exaggerated stories they had told when the hospital had released them were satisfyingly scary. As Batgirl conjured the images the stories contained, which became even more frightening with each retelling, she noted the horrified look on Marsha’s face. It was in stark contrast to the smile illuminating her own.
“I haven’t even seen Siren recently, Batgirl, and I don’t know where Minstrel is. Please believe me,” Marsha said resignedly.
“Fine. What is Minstrel planning?”
“I don’t know, specifically, but I told him I wanted the Bat-Diamond in exchange for the Eye of Excelsior and the Heart of Hope.”
“How are your going to make the exchange, now that you’ve smashed the fakes? I want the real diamonds!”
“I don’t have them! I may have even stolen the fakes. It could be a Batman trap, but if that were true, he probably would have tried to arrest me by now.”
“That brings us back to Minstrel, doesn’t it?”
“Or that hateful hussy of his.” The Queen of Diamonds’ said contemplatively. Then her tone changed. “Listen, Batgirl, now that I’ve smashed those fake diamonds, I won’t be able to do a deal with Minstrel. He was going to contact me when he had the Bat-Diamond, anyway. I have no idea how to find him.”
“Then we have nothing else to talk about. I’ll send the police to haul you all in shortly.” Batgirl turned to go.
“Don’t leave us, Batgirl!” the Grand Mogul begged. “Is there anything else we can do for you?”
Batgirl returned her gaze to Marsha’s main minion and smiled. “There is something, Grand Mogul.”
“Please tell us. We’ll do it, whatever it is.”
“All right. I believe the Queen of Diamonds has an enormous collection of stolen jewels.”
“You have no idea how large it really is, darling,” Marsha bragged.
Batgirl smiled sweetly at her and returned her attention to the Grand Mogul. “Go to Marsha’s treasure trove and start packing it for shipment. Every single item is to be returned promptly to its rightful owner.”
“Yes, Batgirl. Immediately,” the Grand Mogul said. He left the room.
“Now you’ve really done it, Batgirl!” Marsha raged. “Arresting me is one thing, but depriving me of my most prized possessions is something else entirely! Be warned. I’ll get you for this!”
“Be a gracious loser, Marsha,” Batgirl said. “All of those jewels were stolen. Returning them might earn you a lighter sentence. Without making restitution, you could easily be an old, gray hag by the time Warden Crichton is allowed to let you out of prison.”
“Do you really think that could happen?!” Marsha said in horror.
“I’m afraid so, Marsha.”
“Then I suppose I’ll answer any questions that may arise.” Then Marsha muttered to herself, “I don’t want to look like one of the Addams family when I get out.”
“Good. Thank you.” Batgirl again turned to go.
“Batgirl, we need to be near you to please you,” Marsha’s remaining entranced guardians wailed.
“I’ll come visit all of you at your trials. Nothing will please me more then confessions from each of you. Please be sure and tell the Grand Mogul.” The ornamental object of their drug-induced affection was gone before any of them could protest further.
Barbara Gordon had philosophically resolved to catch the Minstrel, Octavia, and the Siren when they resurfaced. Today, she had other things on her mind. The Gotham City Library Association was holding a fundraiser at Gotham Square Gardens, where a pack of wolves sculpted in ice to honor the memory of Jack London overlooked the crowd of rich contributors.
Barbara finished her keynote speech and introduced the troubadour who had been engaged to entertain while they ate. Barbara led polite applause as the musician began to play. She did not look at him until she had returned to her seat. Then she froze. The entertainer was the Minstrel!
“Myrtle,” Barbara said to her assistant, “I’m going to powder my nose. Would you take over for me if I don’t get back in time to carry on the program.”
“Of course, Barbara, but listen. You don’t have to skip lunch to watch your figure. You look lovely.”
“Thank you, Myrtle. I’ll be right back.”
Barbara entered the ladies room. Fortunately, it was empty. With so many arch-criminals currently active, she had come prepared. She activated a device in her handbag that disabled any security cameras out in the hallway. Barbara Gordon then went into a stall . . . and Batgirl came out!
The Minstrel was concluding a song as the costumed heroine made her appearance at the banquet. “I see we have a new arrival, ladies and gentlemen,” the Minstrel said. “Batgirl, here’s a tune for you.” He began to strum his lute and sing.
“I’ve got you under my skin.
I’ve got you deep in the heart of me,
So deep in my heart, You’re really a part of me.
I’ve got you under my skin.
I’ve tried so not to give in,
I said to myself this affair never will go so well.
So why should I try to resist, when, baby, I know so well,
I’ve got you under my skin.
I’d sacrifice anything come what might for the sake of having you near,
In spite of a warning voice that comes in the night.
It repeats in my ear.
Don’t you know, fool. You never can win.
Use your mentality. Wake up to reality.
Any time I do, just the thought of you makes me stop before I begin,
‘Cause I’ve got you under my skin. . .
‘Cause I’ve got you under my skin.
‘Cause I’ve got you under my skin.”
“Whatever you’re planning here, Minstrel, it’s over!” the Curved Crusader declared.
“I’m not yet ready to take my final bow, Batgirl. You see, my troops have just arrived.” Several Songbirds filed into the room and surrounded the Svelte Sentinel.
“I though you detested violence, Minstrel.”
“You really have gotten under my skin, Batgirl, and I would like to avoid any needless bloodshed.”
“You could always surrender.”
The Minstrel laughed. “I don’t think so. Octavia!” Minstrel called. A strange noise sounded from a shadowy balcony overlooking the room. Seconds later, the ice sculptures of the wolves exploded! “Now, ladies and gentlemen. I regret to inform you that the fate of those wolves might befall any of you who fail to place your valuables on your table for my staff to collect.”
“Batgirl won’t let you get away with this!” Myrtle called.
“She won’t dare to try to stop me, because it would put all of you good people at risk. Men, get to work!”
Octavia had had enough. She was going to finish Batgirl, permanently. “I’ll take care of Batgirl, Minstrel!” Octavia shouted. The Minstrel’s amorous assistant flipped a switch and the strange sound that had shattered the wolves began again.
“No!” the Minstrel shouted in panic. “What are you doing?! Stop!”
“You’ll thank me when I’m finished!” Octavia shouted in return.
Batgirl stood with her hands on her hips and her legs spread to shoulder width. A strange sensation was beginning to assert itself upon her. She could feel her muscles warming and tightening. Her breath quickened. What was happening?
Whatever it was, the sensation was short-lived. Batgirl stood, staring defiantly at the woman above her operating a machine resembling a camera mounted on a tripod. A wisp of smoke had begun to curl in the air above the machine, as the hum emanating from it grew louder. Before long, dense, white fumes billowed from the machine.
“Having trouble, Octavia?” Batgirl asked. Octavia had been engulfed in a cloud of smoke and the hum seemed to be reaching a climax.
Batgirl approached the melodic malefactor. “Now, Minstrel, it’s your turn.”
The Minstrel flashed a dazzling smile. “Not just yet, Batgirl–”
The villain was interrupted by the sound of the machine Octavia had been using exploding in a flash of flame. He glanced at the balcony and saw Octavia was retreating.
“I’d say that invention needs some work,” Batgirl deadpanned.
“I’m sorry to resort to base violence against you, Batgirl, but I’m desperate to remain free. Songbirds, swoop in and get her!”
The Minstrel’s half dozen henchmen converged on the Dynamic Darling and attacked. Batgirl blocked the first blow and swung her attacker toward his compatriots. They all fell down and the battle was joined.
The Minstrel, meanwhile, moved to the foot of the staircase Octavia was descending. “What did you think you were doing?!” he demanded.
Octavia ignored the question. Instead, she stated the obvious. “Your sonic gun blew up.”
The electronic genius in the criminal took over. “It’s totally burned out, isn’t it?” he asked.
“I’m afraid so. Why didn’t it work on Batgirl?”
“It started to, Octavia,” the Minstrel half-explained, half-accused, “but organic matter has a more complicated structure than the fragile ice crystals of those wolf sculptures. I told you that version wouldn’t work on people!”
The pair ran to a hallway leading to the front of the building. “Go get the car while I send our pretty pursuer a farewell message,” the Minstrel ordered.
“Right.” They separated.
Back in the banquet hall, citizens had scattered, leaving Batgirl and the Songbirds ample room to do battle. The Songbirds had surrounded their opponent after disengaging themselves from one another and Batgirl wasted no time delivering two pile-driving punches to the ribs of the man facing her. He went down. The two men at her sides closed in and grunted as Batgirl’s elbows shot outward. A second grunt indicated the impact of the backs of gloved fists on their chins. Batgirl’s hands opened and clasped their necks from behind, drawing them together and slamming them against one another.
Fists hit Batgirl’s sides down low, making her sag. As she landed on the floor, she saw two pairs of legs. She swept them from beneath their owners. She was up on her knees in an instant, driving fists into the fallen men’s faces. The last man dove at her from behind and tumbled back to the floor with her.
They rolled from side to side, thrashing until Batgirl found her shoulders pinned to the tiled floor. “I’m going to enjoy this,” the thug said, letting a lecherous smile curl his lips. Batgirl responded by drawing her knees beneath him to her chest and snapping her feet sharply into his groin. He gasped and collapsed on top of her. Batgirl rolled on top of him and gripped his head by the hair. Then she slammed him sharply to the floor and watched his eyes close as a moan escaped his lips. The fight was over, but the Minstrel had gone.
Just as she finished Bat-cuffing the Songbirds, a closed circuit television began beaming the Minstrel’s visage into the room. He performed a familiar song.
“A wandering Minstrel I,
And now’s the time to wander.
To give me time to ponder,
For my men have gotten their lumps.
I don’t engage in fisticuffs or vulgar brawling.
I hear far places calling.
I‘ll be back when I hold all the trumps.
“I’ll be back when I hold all the trumps.”
Batgirl stared, dismayed, as the televised troubadour laughed. The irony of the line about nonviolence occurred to her as she glanced at the wreckage she had made of her attackers. Then, she suddenly realized the scenery behind the villain looked nothing like anything she had seen in or near the building. This fact could only mean one thing. The song had been prerecorded!
Batgirl raced for the nearest exit. She was just in time to spot a retreating figure darting to the stairs. She reached the door before it closed. Stairs descended to a landing halfway to the floor below before turning to descend the rest of the way. The Minstrel was already at the floor below her. At the first landing, Batgirl attached her Batrope to the railing and descended rapidly. The Minstrel, meanwhile, was leaping down entire staircases as he raced to ground level.
A purple-gloved hand fell on his shoulder as he reached the door to the ground floor. ”You’ve sung your last refrain, Minstrel.”
“Don’t be so sure, Batgirl,” the Minstrel replied. He retrieved a device from his pocket and held his thumb above a button. Batgirl stepped back, not knowing what to expect.
They stood in the stairwell, staring at each other for a long moment in silence. Finally, a strange expression washed over the Minstrel’s face.
“I . . . I . . . I can’t do it!” His arms dropped limply to his side and the device fell to the floor. He stepped back from it, glancing at it with obvious distaste.
Batgirl regarded him warily. “Can’t do what?”
“I prepared that weapon for Batman and Robin. That button triggers a sound that would have violently shaken your head. Even if your neck didn’t break, your skull would have soon exploded!” The excitement ebbed from his voice as he dryly commented, “Messy.”
Batgirl bent and retrieved the device, keeping the criminal warily in sight. She could hardly believe it. “What would have happened to you?”
The Minstrel smiled. “Oh, my collar generates a counter-active note. I would have been completely unaffected.”
Batgirl realized she had just been as close to death as she had ever been – and she hadn’t even known it. “Then why–?”
“Batgirl, I’ve . . . fallen in love with you! You’re so beautiful and smart. Come away with me and I’ll renounce my life of crime forever!”
The Dominoed Dare-Doll was stunned. The Minstrel was handsome, charming, intelligent and had a great singing voice – but he was evil . . . wasn’t he? 'He has offered to reform – just for me.’
She couldn’t believe the next words out of her mouth. “What about Octavia?”
The expression on the Minstrel’s face revealed that he was torn. “I . . . I thought I loved her, but I’m beginning to wonder if she’s good for me. I never would have turned any of my machines on people – except for Batman and Robin, of course. I’m beginning to realize Octavia has a dark, jealous side.”
Once again, Batgirl’s words raced ahead of her thoughts. “Octavia tried to kill me at the museum after you stole the Galaxy and the Midnight Star Sapphire.”
“Really? I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
Batgirl moved toward the Minstrel. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, as if to kiss her.
CLICK!
The click was of one Bat-cuff around his right wrist. The other cuff was quickly attached to the handrail. The Minstrel opened his eyes and gave a wry smile.
“I’m sorry, too,” Batgirl said sadly, “but you do have to pay for your crimes.”
A tinge of regret and resignation was in the Minstrel’s voice, as he looked at his bound hand and said, “I expected that.”
Batgirl paused, her face softening. “However . . .”
The Minstrel looked up, hope shining in his eyes.
“When you get out of prison – and even though I don’t know just how we’ll pull it off – I’ll let you take me out on a date.”
The Minstrel flashed a wide grin. “Is that a promise?”
“It is.”
“Okay! When I get out of prison . . .”
Batgirl hoped she just hadn’t made a serious mistake.
The police were too intent on capturing the Minstrel when they arrived at Gotham Square Gardens. Octavia spotted them and slipped into the ladies room, where she waited until they had passed. Luck was with her as she pulled the car from the lot before the area could be secured.
The Minstrel had been arrested once again and there was nothing to be done except avoid capture herself. Laying low in Gotham City might work, but Batgirl was after her. To leave town, she would need money. A little smile curled her lips, as she thought of how to get it. She would need one man’s help. ‘If only he hasn’t left the city already . . .’
“Octavia,” Monsieur DuLac said as he ushered her into his room. “I did not expect to see you again so soon.”
“I’m delighted you are still in Gotham City. Minstrel has been arrested. I want to leave town. I’m prepared to place myself in your capable hands.”
Monsieur DuLac looked appreciatively at the woman who had come to him for help. “You may find my services rather expensive.”
“I’m prepared to be very generous,” Octavia said. Perhaps to emphasize this statement, she unbuttoned her coat, slipped it off, and carefully draped it over a chair. The short dress she wore beneath it fitted her very well.
“Ze police and zeir allies will be looking for you to fly or drive out of town. Why don’t you accompany me on a world cruise? Ze HMS Gotham sails tomorrow morning. If you can raise ze money, I would be happy to make ze arrangements.”
“I think your lovely imitation of the Midnight Star Sapphire is about to be recovered.”
“C’est bon.”
“May I use your phone?”
“Certainement.”
The voice on the phone said, “Hello. You’ve reached Freud’s Insurance. We guard against the slightest slip. How may I help you?” Octavia spoke to him for several minutes.
“We can make the exchange on the way to the ship in the morning. It might be a good idea to have some fake credentials,” Octavia suggested after she hung up.
“I will attend to all of zose details. Let me call ze shipping line and let zem know I will have a beautiful companion for ze voyage.”
“What a lovely idea.” Octavia said. She settled into a chair and crossed her legs, watching him speak on the phone.
“I have only one more concern before we conclude ze arrangements,” he said. “You have feelings for ze Minstrel and he for you. How will he react to our arrangement when he regains his freedom?”
Octavia smiled. “A few years ago, Minstrel tried to roast Batman and Robin on a radar-type grill. It didn’t work and we soon found our gang on the verge of incarceration. That coward fled, leaving all his associates, including me, to the Caped Crusader’s mercy.” She stood and walked slowly to him. “I’ve never forgiven him.” Before the Frenchman could respond, she bent and kissed him on the lips.
“It will be our little secret,” he said when the kiss ended. Then he wrapped his arms around her.