“It seems Ms. Grant fancies herself an adventuress,” Dayna said, straightening. “We found her poking around among the explosives. Okie Annie and Soolin subdued her for you.”
“Purr-fect,” Catwoman said. “We need to be going, but we’ll need to collect one more item before we depart.”
“What about Ms. Grant?” Dayna asked, glancing down at the captive.
“Oh, she’s coming with us,” Catwoman replied, laughing shortly. “I’m quite finished pussyfooting around with everyone, and I need Ms. Grant to answer one question.”
Later, when Jo Grant revived, she found herself in a uniquely terrifying position at the Catlair West in New Guernsey. She lay on her back, secured with ropes to what appeared to be an enormous mouse trap. Half a dozen stout ropes held back a spring-loaded bar which shifted on a hinge at Jo’s feet. The captive realized, to her horror, the blade fastened to the bar would bury itself in her chest when the trap closed. Her eyes narrowed as she began to squirm, testing her restraints.
“I wouldn’t bother,” the British, blonde hench-kitten absently advised. “I tied those knots personally. You aren’t shoving off.” Jo noticed the other Briton had changed her clothes, now wearing a long-sleeved, plaid shirt with a white collar and cuffs along with black trousers. Jo guessed Soolin had changed her look to make her harder for police to recognize as Catwoman and her associates fled Gotham City.
“What’s happening?” Jo demanded.
“I have a question for you,” Catwoman revealed. “Unless you answer truthfully, I’ll ask Soolin to shoot away the ropes holding back the blade above you.”
“I have nothing to say to you!” Jo Grant exclaimed.
“In that case, once all the ropes have been severed, the steel bar will snap and you’ll be divided into equal parts,” the Feline Fiend chuckled. “In other words, you’ll be beside yourself.”
“That’s not funny at all!” Jo Grant complained.
“Show her how the trap works, Soolin,” Catwoman commanded, letting her hands settle onto her well-rounded hips.
The gunwoman fired a bullet that severed one rope before slamming into a sandbag suspended behind the trap to keep the wall of the Catlair from becoming bullet ridden. The lower portion of the rope fell to the floor while the upper portion remained dangling uselessly from the metal bar. Jo’s eyes widened fearfully as the steel bar to which the blade was fastened quivered.
“Maybe you should tell me what you want to know,” Jo suggested, her voice quavering.
Catwoman bent, getting into the bound woman’s face. “Last night, I returned to my lair to find the bondage bag in which I’d left you in tatters and Batgirl free from a crushing finish I’d organized for her. While I was out, I told Georgie you were my guest and only fifty million bucks would ensure your continued safety.”
“You’re horrible!” Jo exclaimed. “Killing me now will do nothing to persuade George to pay you.”
“He was disinclined to pay up before I caught you,” Catwoman explained, straightening and beginning to strut back and forth across her lair. “If you spoke to him while you were free, he will ignore the threat I made and cost me a fortune. So, you will tell me if you’ve spoken to Georgie today. Otherwise . . . ”
Soolin was waiting for her cue and severed the second rope with another single bullet.
“Well?” Catwoman demanded, regarding the bound Briton, after the echo from the gunshot died.
Jo Grant glared at the voluptuous villainess. “As far as I’m concerned, you can go--”
“Soolin,” Catwoman calmly said, turning around. The gunwoman severed a third rope with another bullet. “You were saying, Jo?”
“How can you do this to me?” Jo demanded.
“Shall I tell her?” Soolin asked, aiming at a fourth rope.
“Go ahead,” Catwoman answered. “It’s your story, and it might prove . . . instructive.”
“A few years back, it was widely believed Catwoman had died.”
“Too bad the reports were wrong,” Jo said bitterly.
Soolin shot the fourth rope without prompting and calmly continued. “Before she revealed the rumors of her death were greatly exaggerated, many women, including me, impersonated Catwoman while committing crimes. The media dubbed women like me ‘copycats.’”
“So, several women committed crimes in Catwoman’s guise while people thought she was dead.” Jo paused before her question, “Who cares?”
“There can be only one Catwoman,” Soolin explained. “She was waiting for me when I finished one of my outings and had me stripped and stomped on by a couple of her motivated helpers. One of them used a pair of boots with spiked soles and walked all over me . . . well, almost. I still have most of the scars and it took me over a year to completely rehabilitate.”
“I can see how such treatment would be an effective object lesson,” Jo said seriously. “If you willingly work for her after she tortured you–”
“The torture was the beginning of a grooming process,” Soolin explained. “I consider it the start of my career track. Catwoman had planned for me to do this kind of work for her before I began robbing businesses in my catsuit.”
“I imagine you were unhappy with the girl who tortured you,” Jo conversationally said.
“I was,” Soolin said simply. “She became a kind of final exam for me after she made a mistake.”
“What did you do to her?”
“I punished her, as Catwoman instructed.”
“Is she dead?”
“No, but I’m sure she wishes she were,” Soolin said, curling her lips into a thin smile.
“So, you enjoy your work?”
“Immensely,” Soolin said, aiming carefully at a fifth rope. “Now, I think you have a question to answer.”
“I’m not certain Catwoman is really interested in having you kill me.”
“Whatever,” Soolin said, shrugging and severing the rope at which her gun was pointed.
“Why should I tell you anything?”
“To go on living,” Catwoman replied.
“Killing me doesn’t make any sense.”
“I’m assuming I lost fifty million dollars today. That’s a lot of money and someone is going to pay dearly.”
“You mean me?”
“Purr-haps,” the crime queen replied. “You’re here. Soolin.”
Soolin aimed at the sixth and final rope.
“All right,” Jo quickly said. “I’ll tell you. I have not spoken to George since yesterday. He has no idea I was ever free.”
“Purr-fect,” Catwoman purred. “I’m going to believe you for now, but if I learn you are lying to me, you will die – instantly.”
“I’m telling the truth,” Jo said, exhaling a breath she did not realize she was holding.
Catwoman turned to Soolin. “Put up your gun and get the phone.”
“Yes, Catwoman,” the gunwoman said, obeying. Moments later, Catwoman settled down comfortably on a cushion with her legs decoratively outstretched. Soolin set the phone down and her employer leaned forward to dial.
“Hello,” George Henry Lyons said.
“Hello, Georgie,” Catwoman purred. “I thought I’d call and say how I’m looking forward to seeing you later at the Wild Kingdom Animal Preserve.”
“Catwoman–”
“I hope you’ve had no trouble raising my money. I’ve decided you’ll watch your woman die if I don’t get every red cent.”
“Forget me, George!” Jo cried before Soolin covered her mouth.
“You leave her alone! I’ll see you later, and I’ll bring the money!” He continued, cursing the money and the woman demanding it of him.
“Splendid. I’ll see you soon,” Catwoman said. “By the way, it should be obvious I want to conduct our business in private. So, don’t tell anyone, for Jo’s sake. Finally, what would she think of such vulgar language?” Catwoman hung up before the incensed businessman could erupt further and nodded at Soolin, who straightened. As she set the phone aside and stood, Catwoman regarded Jo. “Your boyfriend is coop-purr-ating purr-fectly. It seems he cares about you.”
“Of course he does,” Jo Grant said. “No one would allow another person to be kidnapped and tortured if they had the power to put a stop to such behavior. I’m sure whatever he was telling you was wholly appropriate!”
“Purr-haps,” Catwoman replied, smiling thinly and thinking, ‘I’m sure he also feels guilty about his little fling yesterday.’
“Since you’re getting your money, I gather you won’t kill me now,” Jo said.
“Not right away,” Catwoman replied. “Georgie has to deliver to save you. The situation is simple, Jo. Unless Georgie pays me fifty million bucks when I meet him tonight, your life is forfeit. I wouldn’t worry though. He’s still good for it.”
“You aren’t taking this . . . device . . . to the meeting, are you?”
“No,” Catwoman replied. “Come, Soolin, we’ll get the others and prepare Ms. Grant for tonight’s festivities.”
“Abysinnia!” Soolin said, favoring Jo with a wicked grin before following Catwoman from the torture chamber.
Jo squirmed more vigorously, verifying the amount of slack she had detected in her bonds earlier. ‘Now that they’ve gone, I can get out of here,’ she thought. Relaxing, her slight movements became more subtle, shifting ropes with practiced skill. Her shoulders emerged from her bonds within minutes. ‘It won’t take me long to escape.’
Meanwhile, back at the Gato and Chat Fur Company, Batgirl waited to die while worrying the police tasked with her rescue would perish in the course of their heroic attempt. Her cramping, oxygen-deprived fingers ached as they stretched toward the hilt of a blade with which she hoped to cut herself free. In the pauses while she rested, she turned her head and brushed her cheek against her shoulder, trying to pull the tape from her mouth.
She was growing tired and had long ago been drenched in sweat, but could not stop working toward escape. Looking down, she saw the tracer Catwoman had left on the chair between her widespread legs working to summon aid, luring a police squad to its doom.
Batgirl’s efforts to pull the tape from her mouth had met with no success, but she had begun to slide a sharp blade from the flange of her glove, where she kept it to use when she was unable to reach her utility belt.
She knew she would need to draw the blade with care. If she dropped it, her efforts to free herself would fail. Even if she were able to keep hold of the knife, Catwoman had employed many ropes to bind her.
The Curved Crusader moaned and paused in her efforts to retrieve her blade as sirens heralding her rescuers’ arrival sounded, growing louder with each passing second. Batgirl knew she had not made nearly enough progress toward escape!
Jo Grant, however, was nearly free when she heard her returning captors’ approaching footsteps. Her hips and buttocks emerged from the restraining ropes, from which her legs slid free easily. Quickly, Jo lowered herself behind the gigantic mousetrap, flattened her body against it and held her breath.
“She’s gone!” Soolin exclaimed as the criminal quartet entered the room. “That’s impossible! It doesn’t make any sense. I tied her down personally. Where in the world could she possibly have gone?”
“That’s a very good question, Soolin,” Catwoman tartly said, whirling to face her hench-kitten.
“Boss,” Dayna said, pointing at the mousetrap. “Look. None of those knots have been untied or cut.”
“Well,” Okie Annie said, “I reckon Batgirl ain’t the only escape artist we done captured.”
“So it would seem,” Catwoman said, settling her hands onto her well-rounded hips and regarding her assistant’s discovery. The villainess voice became low and deadly. “All right, kittens, hunt her and bring her back to me--alive!” The hench-kittens hurried away without another word.
Jo listened to Catwoman’s footsteps as she began to pace the torture chamber. Silently, the blonde Briton determined the villainess’ position. Remaining hidden, she wormed her way silently to the corner of the mousetrap and rose into a very low crouch. Holding her position, she waited as Catwoman approached.
“Batgirl may purr-haps be a lot less impressive than her reputation would suggest after all,” Catwoman angrily muttered. She turned, strutting petulantly away from Jo Grant.
Jo lunged and slammed her shoulder into the center of Catwoman’s back, knocking the villainess down. As the target fell, Catwoman’s head grazed the side of the mousetrap.
Straightening and regarding the fallen fiend for a long moment, Jo realized Catwoman remained both still and silent. ‘She’s out cold!’ Jo Grant thought as a cunning smile curled her lips.
She shifted Catwoman onto the mousetrap and bent over the ropes, working quickly and silently. When the villainess recovered, Jo had neatly reversed their roles. She moved to the remaining rope holding back the sharp blade affixed to the metal bar.
“Now, Catwoman,” Jo softly said, “give me one good reason not to let the steel bar to which this blade is attached snap and divide you into equal parts.” The British blonde playfully tapped the sharp blade with a fingertip.
“You can obviously kill me,” Catwoman said, in a surprisingly calm voice as she eyed the potential means of her execution. “I hope, though, you won’t be doing it for Georgie. He really isn’t worth it.”
“What makes you say that?” Jo demanded, reaching for the knot and probing it with her fingers.
“Do you know what he was doing yesterday while my kittens were entertaining you?”
“You had me invite him home, so I gather you were with him when whatever happened happened. You made your plans pretty clear before Soolin took me away.” Jo said, shrugging. “I’d have a hard time believing you succeeded.”
“Really? I have his old girlfriend’s body and had changed into less conspicuous clothes by the time he arrived,” Catwoman explained. “So, I was with him, but in more ways than one.” The villainess laughed.
“You did seduce him!” Jo fumed. She began working with more determination at the single knot and was beginning to make progress. “I thought you’d be smarter than to brag. Now you’ve provoked me, and I don’t see any reason to hesitate to kill you. In fact, as soon as I’ve finished untying this knot--”
“I didn’t force him to do anything, Jo.”
“What are you saying?” Jo demanded, letting her hands drop to her sides.
Catwoman grinned. “I’m saying I gave your boyfriend a chance to be with his ex yesterday, and he jumped at it! Purr-haps I should say he jumped at me– without hesitation. He didn’t agonize about his unexpected chance at all. He just went for it--completely forgetting all about you."
"So?"
"So, after all I’ve put you through, if you want to murder me, I understand. You might, however, just want to be very sure you aren’t doing it for him.”
“You’re blagging!” Jo folded her arms and regarded the bound villainess.
“I assume that means lying?” Catwoman asked drily.
Jo nodded her assent. “And I’m not prepared to believe you did nothing to encourage him.”
“I never said I didn’t encourage him,” Catwoman protested. “My point is, he wanted me the second he saw me. Since I was curious, getting him to forget all about you was easy, much simpler than it should have been. Of course, I’m just taking this opportunity to share my observations and impressions.”
“I see!” Jo said. “Why are you telling me all this? I could take my revenge so easily right now, removing any further temptation for George forever. Punishing you for his alleged indiscretion is much more practical than being angry with him. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I find the idea of killing you appealing, particularly in light of your allegation.”
“Oh, I can tell you want to kill me, but instead, you’re hearing me out,” Catwoman purred. “So, if you thought you really were justified, you’d have killed me already.”
“You’re very confident,” Jo replied.
“Of course,” Catwoman continued. “I can also tell untying that knot being homicide doesn’t bother you.”
“Not at all,” Jo casually admitted, returning to her work on the knot. “Did you know I’m a widow?”
“A black widow, you mean,” Catwoman coyly said. “You don’t care about the consequences of committing cold-blooded murder because you’ve gotten away with it before. So, I must be right. Shall I tell you everything about my afternoon with your boyfriend?”
“Belt up!” Jo commanded. “I refuse to listen to any more of your lies!”
“Don’t, then,” Catwoman smugly said, “but the next time you find yourself in his arms, I want you to consider whether he is really thinking about you . . . or vividly remembering me.”
“You’d better hope you really do have nine lives, Catwoman,” Jo said, as her face became utterly impassive, “because in just a minute, you’ll need another one! Toodle pip.”
Jo’s deadly chore was nearly complete when the hench-kittens softly moved into the room behind her. Catwoman, of course, spotted them, but did not let on until it was too late for her would-be killer.
“Get her, and get me out of here!” the Princess of Plunder ordered.
Both Okie Annie and Soolin drew their guns instantly and shot away the ropes binding Catwoman. The villainess rolled over and vacated the mousetrap with grace and speed worthy of her moniker. She was free a split second before the knot unraveled, snapping the steel bar, thus deeply burying the blade in the contraption to which she had been tightly tied an instant earlier.
Dayna meanwhile, moved forward, keeping out of her perfidious partners’ line of fire, and pounced upon her prey, punishing Jo mercilessly.
Jo Grant was not a fighter. She was completely unable to defend herself.
“Enough, Dayna!” the Feline Felon commanded, as she stood and realized the extent of the damage Dayna was doing to their hapless victim. “We’ll deal with her later.”
“Yes, Catwoman, as you wish.” Dayna paused before asking, “Was she in here the whole time?”
“She couldn’t have been anywhere else!” Soolin incredulously said. “I can’t believe we didn’t look here.”
“It ain’t like she’s goin’ nowhere now,” Okie Annie said, shrugging. “I ‘spect we’ll be rid o’ her sooner or later, one way or ‘tother.”
“Give her to me.” Catwoman commanded. Dayna shoved Jo Grant at the villainess and the shorter blonde felt Catwoman’s claws dig into her shoulders. Seconds later, Jo was unconscious.
“What are we gonna do with her now?” Okie Annie interestedly asked, putting her gun away.
“Now we take care of Ms. Grant once and for all,” Catwoman decided aloud, shoving the beaten captive unceremoniously to the floor. “I will not tolerate having my life threatened. Georgie can watch her die. My reputation is now at stake. Neither attempting to kill me nor ignoring my demands is acceptable behavior. Ms. Grant’s demise should address both problems nicely.” The criminal queen confidently strutted to the door. “Bring her!”
Batgirl’s fingers eased her knife from its sheath and turned the blade to cut at her bindings. She began working more quickly, altogether abandoning her efforts to pull the tape from her mouth, when the sirens stopped. ‘My freedom is the only chance my rescuers will have to stay alive!’
The Gato and Chat Fur Company’s catacombs were vast, but the police would eventually find her, particularly with the aide of the golden bat stickers Batgirl had positioned to guide her through Catwoman’s labyrinth. ‘Catwoman would never have removed them,’ she glumly thought. ‘After all, she wants the police to find me. Then, the bombs will kill everyone here, while she is off concluding her criminal campaign against Mister Lyons.’
Batgirl knew she might prevent the police from barging into the Feline Fiend’s trap, if she were free, but had no idea how to avoid detonating the explosives poised to kill her the second she left the dais. Her blade sliced through the ropes binding her hand at last. She exhaled and took in more air as footsteps sounded in the hall outside Catwoman’s audience chamber.
“These doors are locked, ma’am,” a male voice reported.
The Curved Crusader’s heart skipped a beat as she heard the squad leader respond. “The tracer indicates Batgirl is in there. Break down the door!” The speaker was Lieutenant Diana Mooney. Catwoman’s trap was about to function precisely as the Princess of Plunder had planned.
“Yes, ma’am,” the officer responded.
Batgirl tried vainly to scream through the tape across her mouth as the first blows attacking the locked door made it shudder. One hand was free, but her arms were still bound. Batgirl’s rescuers would never hear the heroine’s muffled cries as they broke into the room Catwoman had transformed into a deathtrap.
Light glinted on the blade in Batgirl’s right hand as she desperately slashed at the ropes binding her right arm, then at her opposite wrist. The sharp tool did its work rapidly, and the Curved Crusader darted a glance at the door. Echoes of another massive blow reverberated through the room as the police squad continued its assault on the barred portal. The ropes once binding Batgirl’s hands and arms soon rested beneath the chair atop the dais, but the rest of the Curved Crusader remained tightly restrained.
Decisive action on her part might prevent the police from bursting in and setting off the bombs, but a verbal warning might not save them. The noise her rescuers made as their work went on might easily prevent a warning from being heard. For the police, even the split second it would take to remove the tape might mean the difference between life and death!
Batgirl leaned forward to free her legs and felt the ropes crisscrossing her chest restrain her. A silent curse accompanied Lieutenant Diana Mooney’s encouragement as stout shoulders battered the door once again.
Batgirl carefully slid her knife into the cleft between her breasts before a flick of her wrist brought the sharp edge through the ropes holding back her shoulders. Now, she could attack her leg bindings, but glanced fearfully at the doors when she heard wood splinter.
“Hit it again, men!” Lieutenant Mooney called. “We’re almost through!”
The blade slashed at her right ankle and severed the rope as Batgirl hacked at it once again.
Another massive blow hit the doors which began to buckle.
“One more time!” the policewoman eagerly encouraged.
Batgirl took her knife in her left hand and reached for the rope binding her left ankle.
Shoulders slammed into the door again. Batgirl saw it move inward!
As her remaining ankle binding fell to the top of the dais, Batgirl imagined Catwoman’s audience chamber door bursting from its hinges and the police swarming through to trigger an explosion that would blow them all to pieces. She knew escape would give her the best chance to prevent Catwoman’s trap from killing her and her rescuers. Will I have time?’
It would be necessary to cut rope away from both her thighs and she chafed inwardly at the delay the few, necessary, additional knife slashes would cause. Of course, once she was free she had no idea how she would stop the police from racing to her rescue—and their unwitting destruction!
One hinge tore free from the wall as Lieutenant Mooney’s men flung themselves at the door once again.
Batgirl’s eyes darted around Catwoman’s audience chamber as she cut at the rope binding her left thigh. Her mind raced with the speed of a supercomputer.
A second hinge was ripped from the wall, shifting the door.
The last of Batgirl’s bindings fell to the floor and she stood. As she let go of her knife and reached for her utility belt, Catwoman’s words echoed in her ears. “You aren’t going anywhere. That chair is resting on a pressure pad . . . if your weight leaves the dais, the explosives will blow you to pieces.”
The door began to topple inward as Batgirl flung a Batarang from which a rope extended to an overhead beam and swung toward the oncoming officers. Her boot soles slammed into the chests of the first men to swarm forward into the room. Everyone was flung back through the door as a fireball flared in the chamber behind the Curved Crusader!
Her forward momentum and the shock wave from the blast propelled Batgirl into the officers, flinging all of them bodily against a wall opposite the door. Policemen fell like dominoes as the ball of flame behind the Curved Crusader burned hot for a long moment before diminishing almost completely, leaving only smaller fires smoldering behind. The furniture that had fueled the conflagration was reduced to glowing embers.
“Is everyone all right?” Lieutenant Mooney shakily asked, staring at the destruction the bomb had wrought and imagining how much worse it might have been.
Batgirl groaned, picked herself up gingerly, then ripped the tape from her mouth. “Ow,” she said theatrically.
She got the reaction for which she hoped from the men on whom she had literally landed. Several of them chuckled.
Batgirl smiled, then spoke. “I think I’m okay. How do you gentlemen feel?”
“We’ll live,” one of the officers assured her, standing and grimacing, “thanks to you.”
“Your quick thinking probably saved all our lives, Batgirl,” the officer’s partner said, gaining his feet. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” Batgirl said, grinning.
“So, where did Catwoman go after she set up our warm reception?” Lieutenant Mooney grimly asked. “I’m looking forward to thanking her personally for her ‘hospitality.’”
“She didn’t tell me,” Batgirl said, “but I’d imagine her plans somehow involve George Henry Lyons or his girlfriend, Jo Grant.”
“Catwoman’s crimes have focused on Mister Lyons lately,” the Lieutenant agreed. “Let’s get out of here, check in with Headquarters, then contact him.”
“Good thinking, Diana,” Batgirl complimented. “I don’t think your forensics team will learn much about Catwoman’s plans when they gather evidence from here.”
“Maybe not,” the Lieutenant concurred, “but the evidence we’ll gather will help build a strong case for when we do catch her.”
Shortly thereafter, in Lieutenant Mooney’s office, Batgirl spoke to George Henry Lyons on a speaker phone.
“I appreciate your tracking me down to check on me, Batgirl,” the businessman said. “I think I’ve fully recovered from my encounter with Catwoman. How are you?”
“I’m well,” Batgirl said. “Unfortunately, I’ve run out of leads to pursue in tracking Catwoman. I was hoping you could give me an idea of her plans, since she seems to have been focused on you lately.”
“I’m sorry, Batgirl. I really can’t help you.”
“Please think carefully. Catwoman has attacked your solar energy plant and your fur salon after trashing your pet supplies store. In the course of her crimes, she spoke to you face to face at least once. Anything she said might give us a clue to her plans.”
“I think my statements to the police have been very thorough and you already have all that information. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”
“I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me, sir,” Batgirl said. “Before I let you go, may I ask one more question?”
“Of course,” the mogul replied.
“How is Jo?”
There was a pause. “How did you know about Jo?”
“Aside from Catwoman having mentioned her, I helped her get away from the Catlair earlier this morning.”
“You did?”
“Yes.”
Lieutenant Mooney could restrain herself no longer. “With all due respect, Mister Lyons, I think you’re holding out on us.”
George Henry Lyons inhaled and let out a deep breath slowly.
“Catwoman told me she has Jo and will kill her unless I pay.”
“I wouldn’t recommend agreeing,” the Lieutenant said.
“I assure you, I do so with the greatest reluctance," George Henry Lyons said.
“When did you speak to Catwoman?” Batgirl asked.
“A few hours ago?” the businessman answered.
“Assuming she’s telling the truth, Catwoman has recaptured Jo,” Batgirl grimly said.
“I’m sure I heard Jo in the background when Catwoman called,” the mogul confirmed.
“Has Catwoman given you instructions for payment?” the Lieutenant asked.
“She has, and I dare not tell either of you about them, for fear of Jo’s safety.”
“I understand,” Batgirl said. “Thank you for telling us as much as you have. Goodbye.”
Lyons seemed surprised, but said, “Goodbye,” as well.
Mooney was beside herself with the abrupt end to the call. “You don’t seriously plan to let him go through with the exchange, do you?!” the policewoman demanded.
“Of course not,” Batgirl replied, “but if we’d tried to force him to give us the details, he would only have worried even more about the girl and, probably, given us away at the meeting. Catwoman’s predictably violent reaction would then be hard to prevent.”
“‘Predictably violent reaction,’ eh? What do you think ever happened to that old canard, ‘Catwoman doesn’t kill?’”
“Although as far as we know, she still never has, I think perhaps all this body switching has taken its toll on Selina Kyle’s mind. For a long time she only tried to kill Batman, Robin and me, but recently she’s had you and other police officers in her crosshairs.”
Diana nodded grimly. “So, what are you planning?”
“I’ll follow Lyons without his knowledge and catch Catwoman at the exchange.”
Mooney looked at her friend with concern. “Haven’t you been going nonstop since the middle of the night before last?”
“Mostly,” Batgirl admitted, inhaling and slowly emptying her lungs, “but Jo Grant’s life is at stake. I can keep going as long as it takes to save her.”
“I believe you, but I know you’ll need rest before you take another shot at Catwoman.” The Lieutenant’s upraised hand halted the inevitable objection. “I have an idea. I’ll have plainclothes officers watch Mister Lyons until this evening. Then, I’ll call you and get you back in the game. We both want Catwoman, and if we work together, we’ll get her.”
Batgirl thought for a moment and nodded. “Thanks, Diana.”
“Good girl,” the policewoman said. “Now, get your butt out of my office and get some sleep.”
Hours later, George Henry Lyons stepped into the Wild Kingdom Animal Preserve moments after it had been closed to the public. He moved systematically though the indoor habitat until he reached an expansive, topless cage in which jaguar cubs were housed. There, he froze, standing still and staring at a net suspended above the cage. The elevated net held an enormous ball of golden yarn from which Jo Grant’s head, hands, and feet extended.
“Jo!” the businessman cried.
“George,” the girl responded.
“What has Catwoman done to you?” the businessman demanded.
“Purr-mit me to explain,” Catwoman said, drawing attention to where she lay stretched decoratively along a tree limb. “Ms. Grant’s body is spread-eagled inside my ball of special yarn. Annie and Soolin, begin the demonstration.”
Catwoman’s gunwomen instantly fired at the ball of yarn. Jo looked down without being able to see what was happening as strands of yarn descended among the jaguar cubs. Once the young cats began playfully pawing the yarn strands, the captive felt her restraint rub against her and inhaled. Her body shifted involuntarily.
“Please,” she called. “I don’t want to die. Make it stop!”
“What have you done to her?” George Henry Lyons demanded.
“I’ve shared one of my best and most popular bondage techniques with your lady friend,” Catwoman purred, chuckling. “Since she escaped from my bondage bag earlier today, I thought her unique talents would be challenged nicely in this little predicament. Besides, we all know cats love to play with balls of yarn.”
“I repeat,” George Henry Lyons yelled, “what have you done to her?!”
“Oh, I explained Ms Grant’s situation to her earlier, but since you’ll watch the process to its ultimate conclusion, I’ll tell you, too. Your lovely lady friend is encased in a fiendish variation of a most deadly invention, my Cat’s Whiskers!” The villainess paused for effect before explaining. “Any movement inside the yarn will cause it to unravel slightly, but not to a point at which the victim could escape. When the ball is unwound too far, the victim suffocates, because yarn completely covers and seals the nose and mouth.”
The jaguar cubs had begun to bat at the dangling yarn strands with their paws. Jo had, surprisingly, begun to smile as more of the yarn rubbed against her body.
“She’s going to kill me,” Jo explained, beginning to giggle helplessly. “The yarn tickles and I can’t help moving inside the ball. Help!” She bit her lip, trying desperately to keep from laughing, but the yarn rubbing against her forced her giggles to transform into laughter. The movement of her chest in turn caused the yarn ball to visibly expand, covering her wrists, ankles, and neck.
“Turnabout is fair play, my dear,” Catwoman said. “Now, Georgie, I’ll give you every opportunity to save Jo before she dies laughing, as soon as you’ve paid me.”
“I have the money here,” George Henry Lyons said, holding out a briefcase. “Take it!”
“Kittens!” Catwoman commanded. “Fetch!”
Okie Annie and Soolin stepped forward and retrieved the case. “Be sure Georgie has fulfilled his end of the bargain before we complete the transaction,” Catwoman commanded. The hench-kittens opened the case and eagerly began to paw through the bills inside as they counted.
“Of course,” Catwoman went on happily purring, “once my ball of yarn completely surrounds a victim, all movement will naturally cease.”
“I understand,” George Henry Lyons quietly said. “You have your money. Let Jo go now.”
“Well?” Catwoman demanded.
Soolin and Okie Annie conferred briefly in low tones. “We’ve got it all,” Soolin reported.
“Splendid,” Catwoman said. She stretched luxuriously. “Now, we’ll enjoy the rest of the show.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lyons asked suspiciously.
“You’re free to do everything in your power to save Ms. Grant before my yarn kills her. I don’t think you’ll have time, but I promise my people and I will do nothing to interfere with your vain efforts.” Catwoman laughed.
“Now that I’ve paid you, you’re leaving Jo to die?!” Lyons said incredulously.
“You’re purr-fectly correct,” Catwoman admitted, “unless, of course, you save her.”
Lisa Carson’s face grinned at her former boyfriend. “Of course,” the villainess coyly purred, “I could release the ball of yarn from the net and drop Jo among the jaguars. She would then become the sweet meat inside a chew toy. Would you like me to dump your girlfriend for you?”
“You’re diabolically despicable, Catwoman!” an authoritative, female voice declared.
“Batgirl!” Catwoman exclaimed, making no effort to conceal her surprise as she slid from the tree to the ground with practiced grace. “You should have been blown to pieces hours ago, but there you stand.”
“That’s right, Catwoman!” Batgirl replied. “I’m here to rescue Ms. Grant again and smash your gang into tinier pieces than you planned for my remains to become!”
“You make me sound so untidy, Batgirl,” the Feline Fiend replied. “Dayna, take Georgie when we go. Soolin and Okie Annie, I want you both to shoot anyone following us -- dead.”
“Yes, Catwoman,” the three hench-kittens said in unison. Dayna stepped toward George Henry Lyons.
“You’ll never get away, Catwoman,” Batgirl said.
“Oh yes I will,” the Princess of Plunder replied. “You told me you would save Ms. Grant, and she’s in desperate need of saving.” Catwoman extended a remote control she took from her belt.
“In fact, her need is about to get more desperate!” Catwoman pressed a button on the control. The ball of yarn in which Jo Grant was trapped fell toward the cage holding the jaguar cubs as the blonde Briton screamed. “Happy landings, Jo!” Catwoman motioned for her minions to follow as she turned and led them away.
“No!” George Henry Lyons cried in despair as he struggled in Dayna’s firm grasp. “You can’t just leave her there. Those cats will–”
“I’m confident Batgirl will save her, Georgie,” Catwoman said, returning and stroking his face gently with one hand and leaning her face close to his. “Don’t worry.” The villainess laughed briefly and turned away again, commanding, “Come, kittens! Let’s go!”
Batgirl hurried to the cage as she removed half a dozen pellets from her utility belt. She gripped the top of the cage and flung her pellets to the floor before swinging herself up so she could perch momentarily on one side of the cage.
The pellets hit the ground and exploded, releasing a cloud of gas that made the cats curl up against the yarn and sleep. Batgirl dropped before the captive and took a knife in each hand, before cutting through the yarn until Jo Grant could climb to freedom. By the time both women stood safely outside the cage, Catwoman; her minions; and George Henry Lyons were gone.
“I’m sorry they escaped, Batgirl,” Jo Grant wistfully said. “What do you imagine she’ll do to George?”
“Catwoman will squeeze as much money out of him as she can, unless we stop her.”
“For what are we waiting?”
“I can’t be certain where they went.”
“I know where Catwoman was and, if you take me along, I’ll share my information. I’m very worried, Batgirl.”
The Curved Crusader hesitated a mere moment. “Let’s go!” she urged.
Shortly thereafter, attorney Lucky Pierre arrived at the Catlair West in New Guernsey for a hastily called meeting.
“Welcome, Pierre,” Catwoman said, descending the dais in her audience chamber. “Tell me, are the documents I requested prepared for signature?”
“Well, yes,” the attorney replied. “I’d feel better about them with more time, but what I’ve prepared will allow Mister Lyons to sign over all of his assets to you.”
“And it will stand up to scrutiny?”
“Well, under most circumstances it should, but I assume Mister Lyons – or his heirs – will have a top-notch team of really good lawyers. With more time, I could better assure the transaction would be unassailable.”
“How much more time would you like?”
“I’m sure you’d be very pleased with the result if I spent a week on the problem.”
“You want me to pay your premium rates for a week?!” the Princess of Plunder demanded. “I’ll take my chances, considering I’ll pay you to enforce this document in the event it becomes necessary.”
“You’re the client, Catwoman . . . although, technically, in this matter, Mister Lyons is my client.”
Catwoman laughed. “I leave it to you to sort out the technicalities. After all, that’s what I pay you for. Now, let’s have the results.”
“I have the documents right here,” the crooked attorney replied, retrieving a folder from his briefcase.
“Purr-fect,” Catwoman purred, picking up the folder. “Why don’t you make us a couple of drinks while I attend to some . . . formalities.”
“I’d be delighted,” Pierre replied, busying himself at the sideboard while Catwoman left him.
She hurried to a room at the end of the corridor where her kittens lounged decoratively watching George Henry Lyons, who was tightly bound to a chair, squirm. “You’ll be happy to know I’ve nearly finished with you, Georgie,” the criminal queen announced.
“You want something else first, though, I imagine.”
“Not something, Georgie,” Catwoman corrected him, grinning wickedly. “I want everything, and you’ll give it to me willingly before we’re finished!”
“In your dreams!” the captive angrily replied.
“Oh, but you’ve already made some of my dreams come true,” Catwoman replied, chuckling and regarding him with a smirk. “Besides, all you need to do is sign these document and we’ll be finished.” Catwoman set the folder on the table and jerked her head. Instantly, the captive’s chair was moved beside the table. “So, will you sign?”
“Never!”
“I’m very sorry to hear you say that,” Catwoman replied. “Dayna will have to give you an attitude adjustment. The only restriction is, you need to be able to inscribe your signature, once your attitude has been ‘adjusted.’”
“I understand,” Dayna said.
“You’ll never make me sign, Catwoman, no matter what this woman does to me!”
“Purr-haps,” Catwoman replied, “but maybe you should be thinking of others besides yourself.”
“What are you talking about?” the prisoner angrily demanded.
“Jo Grant is no doubt still alive, and I expect she’ll be leading Batgirl here.”
“In that case, you have no hope of persuading me to sign over my assets!"
Catwoman chuckled. “I disagree. Because I’m expecting them, Okie Annie and Soolin will be waiting in ambush. My new ‘guests’ will be brought into your presence and shot, repeatedly. My kittens will see to it that they die slowly . . . and in exquisite, lingering agony. Your signature on those papers is the only thing in the world that will spare them. How does that grab you, Georgie boy?”
“Even if I sign these, Catwoman, the documents will never stand up to a legal challenge.”
“Oh, I know an unscrupulous Notary Public who will swear she saw you sign them of your own free will. Besides, after you sign those documents, you won’t be able to buy a law school student lunch,” Catwoman predicted. She smiled sweetly. “There will be no difficulties, whatsoever.”
“You evil woman!” George Henry Lyons said. “You’d stand by and have Batgirl and Jo tortured and killed over just money!”
“Well, we are discussing a lot of money,” Catwoman said. “Go to work, kittens. I’ll leave you and Dayna to play, Georgie. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Okie Annie and Soolin stood and left the room without a word and Catwoman followed as Dayna pulled the chair back from the table. The echoes of an open-handed slap across George Henry Lyons’ face reverberated as Catwoman closed the door.
“The documents are in the process of being executed as we speak, Pierre,” she said, returning to her guest and accepting a drink.
“Do you expect the ‘process’ to take long?” the evil attorney asked.
“It’s hard to say,” Catwoman replied. “There is plenty to drink while we wait, though.”
Lucky Pierre refilled his glass and raised it to his hostess. “Cheers,” he said. Glasses clinked and the couple settled comfortably back into their chairs to regard one another knowingly.
“So,” Batgirl said, “Catwoman took Mister Lyons to her Catlair West. I think it’s time I made her feel unwelcome in New Guernsey.”
“You’re not going in there without me,” Jo Grant reminded the heroine.
“It’s going to get rough.”
“You think I don’t know that?” the Briton demanded. “I may not be a top-notch fighter, but I am motivated! It also occurs to me we’ll be making things rough on Catwoman.” Jo Grant smiled thinly as her eyes narrowed.
“I’m trying to keep you safe, Jo,” Batgirl said.
“Don’t bother. I’ve escaped from Catwoman myself a couple of times and this hideout isn’t big enough to hold extensive catacombs in which I’d get lost.”
“Okay. I’d feel better being able to watch your back, anyway. You will leave Catwoman and her kittens to me and get Mister Lyons out safely when we find him, right?”
“Sounds good to me,’ Jo Grant agreed.
“Okay,” Batgirl agreed. “In we go.”
Inside, Okie Annie stood sideways with a rifle butt held firmly against her shoulder and the muzzle aimed at the door. She looked along the barrel and reached her free hand toward the trigger. Soolin was crouched beside her with a pistol aimed at the same aperture and a hand poised to fan her weapon when the gunwomen cut loose on their targets. A light flashed above the door, indicating the building was being entered.
“Almost,” Soolin eagerly said.
“Remember to just wing ‘em,” Okie Annie advised.
“Don’t worry,” the younger gunwoman replied. “They won’t die too soon.”
“Now!” Okie Annie cried, firing her rifle rapidly twice. Soolin’s pistol spat death across the room, but her shots went deliberately low, intended to penetrate flesh and shatter bones, rendering the gunwomen’s victims helpless.
“Shall we have a gander at the bloody fools?” Soolin asked, reloading.
“Sure,’ Okie Annie replied, setting her rifle aside and pulling a pistol from her hip. “We need to collect the targets and put on a show for Lyons anyway.”
“When the show is over, Batgirl and my countrywoman will be finished,” Soolin said, grinning.
“Hurtin’ and dyin’, real slow,” Okie Annie concurred. “I kind of like our instructions.”
“Catwoman is letting us show off,” Soolin said, nodding, “isn’t she?”
Okie Annie nodded. The gunwomen traversed the room and found Batgirl and Jo Grant crouched safely behind a vaguely triangular sheet of bulletproof material!
“What is that?” Soolin asked.
“It’s a Bat-Shield,” Okie Annie replied. “We should be able to ricochet a few shots around it. Burn them!”
The blond gunwomen opened fire and Batgirl tugged Jo Grant’s shoulder back, inducing a careful retreat that kept the protected pair intact. Soon, all of Okie Annie and Soolin’s guns could do nothing but click uselessly.
“You’re out of ammo, too?!” Soolin asked.
“Yep!” Okie Annie replied. “Dang it!”
“So,” Jo Grant asked, grinning broadly, “It’s our turn?”
“It looks that way,” Batgirl answered.
“Brilliant!” Jo Grant enthused. “Let’s get them!”
The women crouching behind the Bat-Shield straightened and charged forward. Neither gunwoman was quick enough to avoid the collision, and the impact knocked the blonde bad girls over like a pair of ninepins. Before Soolin could recover, Jo Grant set upon her countrywoman, slamming her head into the floor repeatedly.
Okie Annie wasn’t as severely shaken as her partner. She was able to grip her pistol by the muzzle and slam the butt into the Curved Crusader’s shoulder.
The Shapely Sentinel laughed and hit the crooked cowgirl in the mouth with stunning force. Batgirl sprang into the air before the ball of her foot slammed into Okie Annie’s chin, launched by a straight-legged kick.
Okie Annie flew across the room and remained still once she landed with a smack.
“We won that round handily enough,” Jo Grant said, letting go of the unconscious gunwoman who settled to the floor and remained still.
“We can’t assume we’ll have the element of surprise from now on,” Batgirl warned, tossing her companion a pair of Batcuffs. “You still want to come?”
“Of course,” Jo Grant said, collecting Soolin’s empty pistol. “I’m with you until I know George is safe.”
“Okay,” Batgirl replied. “Follow me and stay close.”
“Spot on,” the Briton replied, adding Okie Annie’s pistol to her captured arsenal.
The pretty pair moved deeper into the Catlair, leaving the handcuffed gunwomen behind.
“So,” Dayna began, pulling George Henry Lyons head back by his sweat-drenched hair and staring fixedly down into his eyes. “Are you ready to sign?”
“You’ll kill me before I do,” the captive replied. Dayna strutted past him and casually drove her leg back, slamming her foot into the captive’s bare chest. He gasped and coughed before looking up at his torturer, who had turned to grin at him.
The African American hench-kitten had gone about her work with professional skill and demonic glee. She had battered his face and pounded his upper body, bruising him and waiting while the pain registered. Then, she had armed herself with a pair of sharp kitty claws, with which she had slowly stripped his upper body, speaking softly to him as his clothes were systematically torn to shreds, layer by layer. His body glistened with sweat as Dayna bent over him, shaving him with the sharp claw.
None of Dayna’s efforts had caused him to change his mind about signing away his assets, but George Henry Lyons knew she was far from finished . . . and that she was genuinely enjoying herself. He imagined he would be able to stand a good deal of the punishment she would inflict upon him, but the pleasure Dayna was taking from her work worried him.
Suddenly, the door to the chamber burst open and Batgirl stepped through. “Get away from him now!” she commanded.
“Are you going to make me?” Dayna asked, grinning.
“If she won’t,” Jo Grant said, stepping through the door with a gun in each hand leveled at Dayna. “I will—one way or the other.”
“You mean it,” Dayna said, “don’t you?”
“Try me,” Jo Grant said icily.
“I might. Do you have what it takes to pull those triggers? You know what will happen if you happen to hit George, don’t you?”
“I can shoot, and I won’t miss!”
“Then you must be prepared to watch me fall and bleed on the floor. You’ll be able to stand over me and watch the light of life fade from my eyes. Are you ready for that, little girl?”
“You and Catwoman have hurt both George and me badly,” Jo Grant said. “Killing both of you would make the world a better place.”
“Maybe,” Dayna said, “but the price might be a lot higher than you realize.”
“Let’s find out,” Jo Grant replied, aiming each weapon and adopting a shooting stance.
Dayna grinned. “Are you going to do it or not?”
Casually, Jo Grant pulled the triggers and Dayna stared with wide eyes at both gun barrels, imagining they were a pair of tunnels to the netherworld and wondering along which she would be carried after hot lead tore her body to pieces.
CLICK! CLICK!
The silence in the room was deafening for the moment everyone remained motionless, before the breath everyone was holding was simultaneously released.
“Poor Jo,” Dayna said, stepping toward her would-be attacker. “She has the stones, but is out of ammo, as well as luck.”
“That’s far enough, Dayna,” Batgirl said.
“She tried to shoot me,” Dayna replied. “You know I’m not going to let her--”
“She used guns we knew were empty,” Batgirl interrupted. “Give yourself up, Dayna. Now!”
“Not a chance,’ Dayna replied, moving toward Jo Grant once again.
“It’s too bad the bluff failed,” Jo Grant said, “but if you touch George again, I’ll beat you to death with these empty guns!”
“Oh, that sounds like fun,” Dayna said. “Bring it on!”
“See to George, Jo,” Batgirl said, stepping forward to intercept Dayna.
The African-American hench-kitten’s white teeth flashed as she moved toward Batgirl. “After I take care of you both, I’ll finish toying with George. You’ll be powerless to stop me.” Dayna laughed. “I’m going to enjoy humiliating you . . . immensely.”
“Shut up and fight,” Batgirl said, blocking her enemy’s initial attacks and pulling the hench-kitten off balance.
Dayna was suddenly unable to stop the heel of a purple gloved hand from slamming into her chest. A moment later, she was picking herself up off the floor and rolling aside to avoid a purple boot. Once she had her feet under her, Dayna leapt at Batgirl, brandishing the claws she had been using on George Henry Lyons.
Batgirl’s initial block swept the weapons aside before two fists slammed into the woman’s abdomen with the force of driven pistons. Dayna collapsed and clasped at Batgirl. One of the claws dug through the heroine’s costume and into the muscle of her hip.
Batgirl gripped her opponent’s wrist before Dayna could rake the purple encased leg with the claw, twisting the hench-kitten’s wrist and tearing an anguished cry from the black woman’s throat.
The Curved Crusader’s knee slammed into Dayna’s chin. The hench-kitten's body slumped to the floor as her head lolled sideways.
Batgirl secured Dayna’s arms behind her back and looked up at where Jo was helping George Henry Lyons to his feet.
“Thank you, Batgirl.” George Henry Lyons quietly said. “I don’t know if I could have taken everything that woman was prepared to dish out.” He leaned against the table and gathered the documents Lucky Pierre had prepared for his signature. “I’ll feel safer once the police have these as evidence against Catwoman. I’ll turn them over when I make my statement.”
“Speaking of Catwoman,” Batgirl began, “I’d better go package her for the police. You two will be okay, won’t you?”
“What about her?” Jo Grant asked, indicating Dayna.
“Leave her,” Batgirl said. “She won’t be going anywhere.”
Jo shrugged.
“Come on, honey,” George Henry Lyons said. “Let’s get out of here.”
The girl eagerly seized the former captive’s hand and together they took their leave.
“It appears you have an uninvited visitor, Catwoman,” Lucky Pierre said, setting his glass aside.
Catwoman turned and glared at the purple vision who had stepped into view. “Batgirl, I told my kittens to purr-forate you.”
“They tried,” Batgirl replied. “They’re all a little tied up right now, and George Henry Lyons is safe. He’ll soon be presenting evidence against you.”
“I’m sorry, Pierre,” Catwoman said. “It seems we’ll need to reschedule the arrangement we were discussing. Scat!”
”Are you sure?” the attorney asked.
“She doesn’t want anyone else to see her get her butt kicked,” Batgirl explained.
“Purr-haps I’d rather flog you to death privately,” the villainess retorted.
“You’ve tried before,” Batgirl sweetly said.
“No, Batgirl. Not really.” Catwoman replied. “I’ve employed my cat ‘o nine tails against you before, but my intentions were very different then. You had not yet purr-mitted those foreign fighters to compel me do a Bessarovian Sabre Dance. You’ll now pay for that decision.”
“That dance is intended to be lethal, and you must have known I would never have allowed them to kill you,” Batgirl replied..
“If you ladies will excuse me,” Lucky Pierre said, standing and moving to the door. “I think it would be best for me to return to my office. Call me, Catwoman.”
“She will,” Batgirl confidently said, “with her one phone call.” Pierre grinned nervously and disappeared through a doorway.
“You imagine you’ll be able to arrest me?” Catwoman asked.
“Count on it!” Batgirl replied.
The crack of Catwoman’s whip focused Batgirl’s attention more acutely. "I’m going to flay you alive, Batgirl!” Catwoman threatened, brandishing her weapon. "As you know, I enjoy this kind of exercise, and I don’t get nearly enough." Batgirl sprang to one side as the lash licked out.
Their fight was one-sided from the start. Catwoman snapped the lash toward Batgirl, who sprang out of range. With each new attack, Batgirl’s margin of safety shrank. Slowly, Batgirl tired, but Catwoman grew more inspired and confident as her advantage increased.
Catwoman directed Batgirl’s movements with quick, playful flicks of her wrist at the end of sweeping arm motions. "How long can you last, Batgirl?" the Feline Fiend taunted.
"We’ll see, Catwoman," Batgirl replied, dancing just out of reach of the lash, nearly breathless.
"You can’t win."
"You haven’t hit me yet," Batgirl chided.
"Oh, but I will." Catwoman began to let her lash whirl overhead as she watched Batgirl wait on the balls of her feet for the next strike.
"Not if I can help it, Catwoman," Batgirl dove, tumbling to her feet and springing aside as the lash sliced the air where she had returned to her feet. “Close, Catwoman, but not close enough.” Again, Batgirl flitted just outside the whip’s range as Catwoman cracked it.
“There’s no hurry,” Catwoman replied. “Drawing out the flogging will make each punishing stroke more satisfying when you’re slipping and sliding in puddles of your own blood, unable to avoid being cut to pieces!”
“In your dreams,” Batgirl replied, darting to one side and feeling the air displaced as the whip cracked near her ankles.
When the two women had played through this scenario in the past, Catwoman had become overconfident and shown off, giving Batgirl the chance to turn the proverbial tables and capture the villainess. Now, Catwoman was cracking her whip tirelessly and watching Batgirl flit beyond its reach, growing more and more tired with each rapid movement. Both combatants knew the deadly dance could continue for a finite amount of time, and Catwoman seemed content to patiently wait while the deadly scene played out.
‘She’ll have me unless I do something,’ Batgirl thought. Moving on the balls of her feet in a fighting crouch, Batgirl watched Catwoman’s whip hand and reached for a Batarang in her utility belt. As Catwoman attacked, Batgirl flung the Batarang and grinned as a razor-edged wing cut through the Feline Fiend’s weapon.
“No!” the dismayed Catwoman cried. “You destroyed my cat ‘o nine tails!”
“I told you you’d never flog me to death,” Batgirl replied. “Shall we continue the fight, now that we’re warmed up?”
Catwoman flung her weapon aside and crouched, watching her enemy warily. Both women’s chests heaved as the Princess of Plunder slipped on her drugged Kitty Claws. With a wicked smile, the villainess began stalking toward Batgirl. “Now, Batgirl, I’m going to show you how I scratched your phone number out of Catarina.”
“Her name is Diana Mooney and she’s a police lieutenant, thanks to you,” Batgirl replied, lunging toward her enemy and sweeping the claws aside with her palm. The heroine’s fists slammed into Catwoman’s abdomen again and again. The Curved Crusader’s solid combination took Catwoman’s breath away and the black-clad brunette sank to the floor where she remained gasping for several seconds. “Give it up, Catwoman. You’ve lost . . . badly. It’s over.”
“I’ve still got my catlike reflexes!” the villainess said, rising to the balls of her feet and her fingertips to fling herself toward Batgirl.
Batgirl dodged and Catwoman felt her claws dig into the floor as she landed, her body fully outstretched. Her weapons held the brunette in place as Batgirl inexorably approached to crouch over the villainess and direct Catwoman’s skull into the floor with the heel of a purple-gloved hand.
A loud, satisfying thump echoed as the Curved Crusader straightened. “That was close,” Batgirl admitted to her perhaps unconscious enemy. To be certain, she sprayed Catwoman’s face with Bat-Sleep and moved to retrieve her Batarang. “When you wake up, you’ll be in a cell.”
“Wrong, Batgirl,” Catwoman said, rolling over as the purple-clad paragon of virtue turned back toward what she thought was her defeated enemy. “I didn’t inhale your spray!” The Curved Crusader’s eyes widened as she saw the golden guns in the villainess’ hands. Two darts were suddenly flying toward her.
Batgirl twisted her shoulders instinctively so the darts passed harmlessly in front of her chest and behind her back. Then, mercilessly, she pounced on her now defenseless foe.
Catwoman exhaled involuntarily as Batgirl’s knees landed on the villainess’ chest. The Feline Fiend made a vain attempt to block the inexorable attack, but closed her eyes as purple fists slammed repeatedly into her chin.
Batgirl snapped Batcuffs on the crime queen’s wrists as the black-clad brunette was rolled onto her stomach.
“Now, it’s over!” the Curved Crusader declared, standing and letting her hands settle on her shapely hips as she smiled down at her handiwork. “Time to call Diana.”
As Lieutenant Mooney and her squad converged on the Catlair West, George Henry Lyons led Jo Grant across his palatial penthouse and onto the balcony surrounding it.
“You’ve been quiet,” Jo Grant remarked conversationally.
“I’m sorry, Jo,” he said. “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”
“I’d imagine having Catwoman after you for the past few days has been pretty intense.”
“She’ll be in jail soon. It’s over.” George Henry Lyons inhaled and let his breath out slowly. Jo wrapped her arms around him and held him, letting her head settle against his chest.
“I wish I could have ended it sooner,” Jo quietly said once his strong arms had enveloped her.
“Your bluff with those guns was very convincing,” Lyons said, grinning down at her. “Still, I’m sure it’s best to leave crimefighting to those with experience.”
Jo looked up at him earnestly. “I haven’t told you everything yet. Catwoman threatened me more than once during her crime wave. I never asked to get involved in her plans, but I did, and I even got the better of her . . . for a little while,” Jo said. Her eyes sparkled as she regarded her companion. “I came within a whisker of putting an end to the nightmare myself.”
“What do you mean, Jo?” George Henry Lyons asked slowly as his eyes narrowed.
“I mean I had Catwoman dead to rights,” Jo said excitedly, “and, unfortunately, she escaped before I could take care of her, once and for all, or, as she might say herself ’purr-manently.’”
George Henry Lyons suddenly recalled Batgirl’s warning as she had left his fur salon the previous night. He had not gone to the trouble of finding out what might have prompted it and had become so involved in his struggle against Catwoman it had utterly slipped his mind. Now, however, learning more about the woman who loved him might be critically important.
“Do you mean . . . you . . . seriously . . . tried to kill Catwoman?”
“Absobloodylutely,” Jo said. “I almost got ‘er, too.” He released her and shifted uncomfortably in her grip. “I can’t believe you tried to kill another human being.”
“Catwoman hurt you and came close to killing me more than once!” Jo explained. “She is a monster. Her criminal methods are inhuman! I can’t imagine her not deserving death— or worse.”
‘When issuing her warning,’ George Henry Lyons thought, ‘Batgirl had been absolutely fair. She had presented facts on both sides of the issue. Yet, she had taken the time to stop and issue a warning. Something she knew or guessed about Jo had prompted her. What could it have possibly been?’
“So, you . . . tried . . . to . . . kill her?” George Henry Lyons asked, “for real?”
“As it is, I failed,” Jo said, shrugging. “I might never have done it, but I had a perfect opportunity, so to speak.”
‘What Jo is telling me is unbelievable,’ George Henry Lyons thought, trying to keep his face neutral. ‘Does Batgirl know something about Jo’s past? Is there a dark secret lurking in a closet somewhere? I can’t just tell her I have to consult Batgirl. I know she’s trying to explain . . . and we’ve both been through a lot. I just need to think. I’m confused and this conversation has gotten out of hand. How can I explain?’
“Listen, Jo,” George Henry Lyons said, gently disengaging himself and slipping off his jacket “I never knew your were capable of—”
“Catwoman attacked you--and me! I did what I did for us, George!” Her face was very earnest as she gazed steadily up at him. “Don’t you get it?”
“No. I don’t. You were never like this before this thing with Catwoman happened.”
“George, please try to understand,” Jo said, stepping toward him and spreading her arms.
He shook his head and backed away from her, toward the balcony railing. “I can’t believe you’re really . . . capable . . . of murder!”
“Listen to me, George,” Jo said. “We’ve both been through a lot.”
“I don’t know you!” George Henry Lyons said, continuing his retreat. “I’m not sure I ever knew you.”
“George, it’s me, Jo! Come on!”
The man backed more rapidly away from her and collided with the railing. His feet became tangled with one another as he turned and his balance faltered. Jo could only watch as his body pitched over the edge of the building in what seemed like sickening, slow motion. “Jo!” he cried descending into the darkness as his voice trailed away and time resumed its regular, steady march.
“George!!!” Jo cried rushing forward and leaning far over the railing, to reach for his outstretched hands as they grasped vainly at the empty air. “No!” she shouted, staring after him in horrified dismay.
After a long moment, she turned and collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably. After awhile, she realized she was shivering and reached for the jacket George Henry Lyons had shed, draping it over her heaving shoulders.
Emotionally, she was drained when she went inside, becoming aware of her physical weakness as she hung her head and leaned against a wall for support. Slowly, she sank to her knees as her chest heaved.
Slowly, she calmed and felt her despair transform into seething anger. ‘Catwoman is responsible for George’s fall. He couldn’t have survived, not from this height. His death is Catwoman’s fault!’ she thought. Her anger crystallized into something almost tangible as her mind reviewed the tragic sequence of events Catwoman’s scheme had set in motion.
Slowly, the super-villainess became inseparably linked to George Henry Lyons’ death in Jo Grant’s mind. ‘I’ll never be able to prove Catwoman’s guilt to anyone else, though!’ she bitterly thought. ‘It will just look like a tragic accident.’
A glimpse of her reflection caused Jo Grant to make a face before she straightened and shed her dead lover’s jacket. She moved into the bathroom where she meticulously repaired her appearance. Once she was satisfied, her mind returned to the problem of Catwoman. ‘I will hold her responsible for George’s death, but proving my case in a court of law will be problematic--to say the least,’ she thought, laughing harshly. Her hands rested on her hips until a cunning smile curled the blonde Briton’s lips.
‘The primary witnesses against Catwoman would have been George - whom she may as well have killed - and me,’ she thought. ‘She’ll be in jail for previous crimes now, but if I fail to testify, Catwoman’s barrister will win her freedom, and she will be released—and become vulnerable!’
“Perfect,” Jo said aloud as her plans crystallized. ‘I can’t get wrapped up in the investigation of George’s fall.’ She was packing her bag as she pondered possible destinations. ‘I’ll have plenty of time to work out the details and prepare. Then, I’ll come back, and make Catwoman pay for what she did to me and George—with her miserable life!’
‘My revenge is going to be expensive,’ she thought, hefting her bag and moving toward the door. She took a last look over her shoulder and her gaze came to rest on George Henry Lyons tear stained jacket. “Why not?” she asked rhetorically as she slipped on the garment again and felt the document tucked into its inner pocket press against her chest. She smiled happily as she recalled its purpose. “Yes, my dear, with your help – and that of a forger – I’ll easily be able to afford to destroy Catwoman and avenge you.”
Jo Grant knew the smile she wore as she left the penthouse with a suitcase in one hand would never reach her eyes, but the hatred she was nursing for Catwoman in her bosom would help keep her warm until the super-villainess’ dead body cooled.