To Embark Upon Royal, Roguish Plans

Batgirl’s muscular legs traversed the small cage in which she was trapped with a single stride, compelling her to turn and move across the cage again. For her audience, the process was a continuous pleasure and her arms and upper body swaying and shimmying made each journey across the cage a tantalizing treat. For the delectable, dying dancer, constant movement was a necessity for survival. She tried to pace herself, to keep from tiring too much while seeking a means of escape. Regardless of her progress, the leering audience would certainly prevent her from executing any straightforward escape plan.

At one point, Batgirl took a chance and learned a key fact. She slowed her dance to the point the cage started to descend. When she sped up her movements, however, the descent stopped. Fortunately, the cage wasn’t designed to fall all the way at once or to continue lowering once started. This fact made the ordeal more tortuous, but might allow Batgirl a chance to escape.

“Royal handmaidens, come!” King Tut bellowed. “The entertainment has nearly concluded, anyway, in more ways than one.” Alexandria and Amber followed him as he led the way from his throne room to a more private audience chamber. Clock King summoned Doctor Liz Shaw, Rhea and Queenie, leaving Jack O’Shea and Spade with the Tutlings to enjoy the meal the asps would soon make of Batgirl, following the remainder of its exciting, enticing prelude.

‘Well,’ Batgirl thought, whirling; shaking; and strutting across the cage again, ‘King Tut, Clock King and the women have gone. I’ve got to keep going until the other men leave.’ Glumly, she wondered whether they would ever tire of watching her frenzied, yet fluid, movements.

Moments later, the royal rogues and their ravishing, combined retinue surrounded an ornate conference table.

“Shall we begin, your Highness?” King Tut proposed.

“By all means, your Highness,” Clock King agreed.

“Alexandria, show his Royal Majesty the ancient formula.” Alexandria stood and retrieved a scroll from a case hanging on the wall. She unrolled a scroll, which Clock King bent to examine carefully. ”I’ve used that formula to recruit all of my help,” King Tut explained. “So far, it seems totally effective. Be warned, I have concerns, which will be satisfied before I hear your proposal. If I am not satisfied, the drug will achieve any results upon which we cannot mutually agree—in my favor!”

“This formula appears to be an excellent means of fostering short-term subservience. It also, however, is addictive and requires repeated doses of ever-increasing amounts and will, therefore never work as a long-term answer to the problem of controlling unwilling subjects,” Clock King observed, straightening and sinking into his chair. He focused on King Tut intently before continuing, “I sincerely hope I haven’t underestimated your intelligence.”

“Hey!” Amber objected.

“Silence!” King Tut said, raising a hand and scowling. “I appreciate the Clock King’s candor. Please go on, your Highness.”

“When the effect of the initial dose wears off, a larger dose will be needed to achieve the same result. Ruling subjects through drugs is never the best means of obtaining control because of the increasing cost of maintaining that control. The drug users become subject to the drug, not the source of the drug. As soon as a better source for the drug can be found . . .”

“If, however, one is the only source for the drug, the subject must give absolute, total loyalty!” King Tut countered.

“Perhaps,” Clock King mildly said. “For a time.”

King Tut frowned. “Well, what do you suggest?”

“Inspirational leadership is the best course. Give everyone a goal toward which to work. President Kennedy did this brilliantly, by racing the Soviet Union to the moon.”

King Tut realized his initial threat had transformed into a critique of his methods. He decided to retrieve the situation. “You’ve given me something for my advisors to consider. Now, however, we have another problem. It has to do with your current appearance, your Highness. You don’t look at all like the Clock King I know! I have no desire to deal with an imposter—or worse, a spy!”

“Of course, I don’t look like Clock King,” the white haired man conceded matter-of–factly. “You probably imagine a distinguished gentleman in his mid-sixties; a little overweight, perhaps, with swept-back, graying hair; a dark, neatly-trimmed mustache; and jet black eyebrows set at thirty degree angles over each eye. I suppose these are somewhat reminiscent of caterpillars."

“That’s right!” King Tut agreed. “I’m sure the real Clock King would be interested in the fact that you are impersonating him. I have a good mind to command that you and your people be locked up in my dungeon until he can be located. In the event he can’t, I can always get my answers the old fashioned way. You see, my friend, I like torture.”

Rhea tensed, staring fearfully at his less-than-benign smile and Queenie leaned forward, glaring at the Pharaoh while trying unsuccessfully to induce spontaneous human combustion. Doctor Liz Shaw shifted her glance among King Tut; Amber; and Alexandria. The Pharaoh’s henchwomen flanked him impassively. Clock King sat motionless, looking at King Tut with knowing eyes. “It would be unwise, your Highness, to act too hastily.”

“You don’t say.”

“Hear me well, King Tutankhamen – or do you prefer Tutankhamun?”

“Plain old ‘Tut’ suits me just fine,” the putative Pharaoh jabbed a pudgy finger at Clock King. “as long as it’s with a short ‘u’.”

“Then hear me well, King Tut. I’ve gone to considerable trouble to seek you out and enlist your aid.”

“I insist you explain your new appearance,” King Tut said. "If we are to work together, we must trust one another.”

“I see,” Clock King said. “Well, you probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“I’m the reincarnation of an Egyptian boy who died 3331 years ago. Try me!”

“Very well,” he said, shrugging. “Why not? I am a space alien from the planet Gallifrey, in the constellation of Kasterborous. My people, the Time Lords, have the power to travel through time and space. They can also, from time to time, change their appearance, undergoing a transformation akin to death and reincarnation.”

Rhea and Liz Shaw stared at King Tut, anxious to see his reaction. Queenie regarded the Clock King with wide eyes before starting to laugh.

“You were right,” King Tut said. “I don’t believe you.”

“What did I tell you?”

King Tut stared at Clock King, who remained still, regarding the criminal monarch with a mischievous smile. “Is that it?” the fat Pharaoh finally demanded.

“Oh, very well,” Clock King said. His smile became engaging. “Would it be more plausible if I told you I am in disguise, so that no one will recognize me?”

King Tut grinned. “Better. You said you went to a lot of trouble to make me an offer.”

“That is correct,” Clock King said.

“Let’s hear it,” King Tut said.

“Doctor Shaw,” Clock King said, “please show the Pharaoh the item we brought for him to view.”

“You would show the item to a man who threatens us with torture?!” Rhea objected. “Your Majesty, I must protest.”

“Silence!” the Clock King said authoritatively. “It’s all right, Rhea. Show King Tut the item, Liz.”

“Your Majesty,” Queenie softly said, hesitating, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Trust me, Queenie.” Clock King turned an encouraging smile on Doctor Liz Shaw. “Go ahead.” The shapely scientist pulled a hinged, wooden box from her voluminous purse and opened it to reveal the golden figure of a bird.

King Tut looked at the item and felt his eyes widen. “It’s impossible!” King Tut excitedly reached for the statue. “I have to see it. This can’t be real, ” the Pharaoh reverently said.

“I assure you, King Tut, the item is real and quite genuine.”

“You’re certain?”

“Quite certain.”

“The Golden Ibis of the Nile,” King Tut reverently said. “It’s beautiful. It’s historical . . . and it’s on display in the Gotham City Museum!” The massive monarch’s voice grew louder. “Years ago, it had a black exterior put on and has been known as the Onyx Osprey ever since. Two years ago, every crook in Gotham City was looking for it after it was stolen.”

“Everything you say, King Tut, is true. What most people don’t know is, an exact copy of the statue was commissioned.”

“By whom?” King Tut demanded.

“By me. That’s why I know.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this.”

Clock King ignored King Tut’s sarcasm. “The statuette was in New Orleans a number of years ago,” Clock King said. He thought, ‘To be exact, it was in the 18th century shortly after The Seven Years War, which the inhabitants of its most important theater call the French and Indian War.’ Aloud, he continued. “I knew the history of the statue and switched them so my copy was given the famous, black covering.”

“You won’t object if I have the statue tested?” King Tut asked. Doubt had crept into his voice as he carefully examined the item and followed Clock King’s explanation with interest.

“Of course not,” Clock King responded, smiling.

“Amber!” King Tut bellowed. “Bring forth my alchemical cart!”

“Yes, Sire.” She rose and wiggled her way across the room to a cart in one corner laden with bottles and vials of colored liquid, bags and boxes of colored powder, and tiny tubs of lotion. “Here it is,” she announced, once she had returned with the cart.

“Excellent,” King Tut said. He took the statuette and pulled a clean eyedropper from among the instruments on the cart. He dipped the eyedropper in to a test tube and filled it. He then let a drop of liquid fall onto the corner of the base of the statuette. Instantly, the gold began to hiss, bubble, and release a fizz. King Tut quickly used a second eyedropper and a second chemical to counteract the effects of the first. He returned the statuette and quickly cleaned his eyedroppers. “I am satisfied as to the authenticity of this item,” he announced, sending Amber and the alchemical cart away with a gesture as he seated himself once again. “Now, Clock King, why have you shown me this wondrous, historical item?”

“I would like to offer it to you,” the Clock King said simply, “in exchange for a small favor.”

“So, I would own it after doing this favor?” King Tut asked.

“That is correct,” Clock King replied.

“You know there is a curse on the original item promising woe to anyone who touches the statue without owning it?” King Tut asked.

“That sounds like superstitious rubbish to me,” Doctor Liz Shaw said.

“I personally translated an ancient scroll detailing the curse.”

"Your Highness, I assure you I am the rightful owner of this item and if you agree to my deal, you will be the rightful owner afterwards. Besides, Doctor Shaw has been carrying the statue for me all night without suffering the effects of the curse. I believe it may have to do with the owner’s permission to handle the item being granted. Of course, your information about the curse might be wrong even though your translation is correct.”

“You have a point, your Highness,” King Tut thoughtfully said.

“Please excuse me, Clock King,” Alexandria apologetically began. She had researched the statue’s history when every criminal in Gotham City had been searching for it. “Am I to understand you took possession of the statue and this act accounts for the item’s famous, mysterious disappearance?”

“Precisely, my dear,” Clock King confirmed.

Alexandria nodded. A moment later she shook her head. “Wait a minute. That’s impossible!”

“Really? You remind me of a conversation I had with the Bard once. ‘There are more things in Heaven and on Earth, Shakespeare,’ I told him, ‘than are known in your philosophy.’”

“All right!” King Tut said, holding up a hand to end the debate. “Curses are impossible, shape changing is impossible, and time travel is impossible, but Clock King, nevertheless, has offered me the Golden Ibis of the Nile. So, what do you want for the statue?”

Alexandria shrugged as Clock King began, “A very interesting exhibit will open at the Kronos Building tomorrow. I invite you to loot it and take what you want. The only thing I require is an item called the Methuselah Stone. It’s composed of individual crystals and is supposed to grant immortality."

“Doesn’t the idea of an item like this strike you as superstitious rubbish?” Amber asked quietly, glancing at Dr. Shaw.

The shapely scientist shrugged. “He’s the boss,” she replied softly.

Tut ignored the women's hushed exchange. “Why don’t you just steal it yourself?”

“I’m only interested in the stone and I would be the first supercriminal anyone would suspect.”

“So, in exchange for the statue, you’re asking me to commit the robbery?”

“Precisely. King Tut, I could steal the entire Kronos Building so easily it would not be fair. I would, however, prefer to be devilishly clever and outwit Batman. That is why I came to Gotham City in the first place.”

“When do I take delivery of the Golden Ibis of the Nile?”

“Upon delivery of the Methuselah Stone, of course. You know,” Clock King began, scratching the back of his neck, “I believe the exhibit contains many items of Egyptian origin.”

King Tut turned the proposal over in his mind several times and began to chortle contentedly. “I like this scheme very much.” He began to slap his knee and quiver with delight. “Very much indeed,” he concluded.

“I’m delighted to hear it.”

Suddenly, King Tut became utterly still and fixed Clock King with a compelling stare. “There could be a problem. I’d be the first supercriminal anyone would suspect of looting a venue with a heavily Egyptian theme.”

“That would certainly have been true at one time,” Clock King said. “Now, however, you are regarded as a leading authority on Egyptian artifacts and the top translator of hieroglyphics anywhere in the world. I believe your academic credentials will dismiss any casual scrutiny the police may cast upon you.”

King Tut leaned back and laughed once loudly, throwing back his head. “You’re right!” he agreed. “My incredible credentials will dissuade even Batman and Robin.” He grinned at Clock King, who smiled encouragingly.

“Given your . . . handling of Batgirl,” Doctor Liz Shaw added, smiling broadly, “she won’t be a problem either, shortly.”

“It’s not a bad arrangement,” Queenie thoughtfully said, once the laughter around the table had subsided.

“I have a question, your Highness,” King Tut said, focusing on the Clock King and taking on a serious expression once again. “What information have you gathered about the Kronos Building?”

“Queenie and my men have toured the premises, making extensive observations, which could obviously help you, and Rhea has kept it under observation.”

“We’d be happy to share what we’ve learned,” Rhea said.

“Oh, that would be helpful,” King Tut said, opening his hand and turning his wrist. “Put ‘er there. You’ve made yourself a bargain with a living divinity.” The royal rogues shook hands.

“Thank you, King Tut,” Clock King said quietly. ”Our arrangement is excellent. It’s been a pleasure doing business and you won’t be disappointed.”

“When can your people share their information with mine?”

“Immediately, of course. We all have a big night ahead of us.”

Batgirl had begun to tire when Alexandria and Rhea returned to King Tut’s throne room. She had moved to the center of the cage where she swayed, the movements of her hips keeping time with the rhythm of her breathing as her hands and upraised arms waved languidly above her.

“She’s tiring,” Rhea said, studying the dance dispassionately for a moment. “Good. Spade and Jack, you’re wanted in the conference room. King Tut has agreed to handle the job at the Kronos Building for us. His people will need the benefit of your scouting report.”

Alexandria frowned. “Is it wise to discuss our plans in the presence of our enemies?”

“When they’re hopelessly trapped and dancing their way to oblivion, it hardly matters,” Rhea confidently replied, favoring Gotham City’s gyrating guardian with a wicked smile.

Alexandria watched Batgirl pivot away from her audience and glide the short distance across the cage. “You’re right. Tutlings, the Great King of the Nile requires you to attend these helots’ words that you may do his bidding tonight, or so he says. Get going!” The henchwoman smiled and cast another baleful glance at Batgirl. “The show is almost over anyway.”

Jack O’Shea, Spade, and the Tutlings stood and began to follow their royal masters’ emissaries from the chamber. O’Shea turned and grinned at Batgirl, who was facing him once again. “Try to keep going until I come back. It’s my duty as a journalist to observe your final moments, as well as a pleasure.”

Batgirl did not respond as he turned to follow the others. She we relieved to finally be alone. She had been able to do nothing but analyze her deadly dilemma as she danced before her audience. Now that she was by herself, she could act. She dared not, however, relax.

Many criminals knew about the vast assortment of miraculous equipment she and her crime-fighting colleagues carried in their utility belts, thus being deprived of these potentially life-saving gadgets was not unusual. Nevertheless, Batgirl still had a few carefully concealed aces up her proverbial sleeves. She carried thin, well-honed blades and small lock picks in her boots as well as the flanges of her gloves. Her problem was, stopping to use these tiny, practical items would lower her cage into the snake pit. Thus, her first task would be to shut down the controls for the motion detectors. Maddeningly, she could see these controls, but knew her hand would never reach them.

While flitting about inside the cage, Batgirl had pondered this problem. She had examined the cage and determined she would never be able to loosen a bar quickly enough to afford herself freedom or use the implement to reach the off switch. She still had her boots, however, and the privacy to employ them without a malfeasant member of the audience turning the motion detectors back on after she deactivated them.

Hopping on one foot, Batgirl pulled off one of her boots, revealing a Batgirl-purple padded sock. Changing feet, she slid out of her other boot to bring a second sock into view. Armed with her boots, Batgirl was prepared to escape.

She turned to face the switch and crossed the cage in one long, languid stride, raising and extending her arm like a bowler and letting the boot fly toward its mark. The boot’s trajectory appeared perfect, but the missile hit beside the target and bounced off of the wall harmlessly. Batgirl stared until the whir of a motor reminded her of the necessity of movement. She began to shimmy backward and to one side, lining up her second shot at the motion detectors’ off switch.

Again Batgirl glided across the cage and sent her boot through the bars toward its mark. The missile was on target this time, but it was the side of the boot, rather than the more substantial sole or heel that hit the switch, having no effect whatsoever!

“Well,” Batgirl said, panting and retreating to keep herself from descending deeper into the snake pit. “That didn’t work.”

Preventing herself from descending into the pit was problematic now. Batgirl reasoned the descending cage might crush some of the asps, despite the four feet King Tut had explained would safeguard them. The blade in her boot might enable Batgirl to kill a few more, but the serpents’ numbers would ultimately enable them to enjoy the meal the villains had provided—namely her!

Batgirl’s initial dancing had been vigorous when she had allowed the pace and rhythm of the music to capture and inspire her. Later, when she began to tire, she deliberately tested the limits of the motion detectors’ parameters. Now, as she considered her next course of action, she moved only as much as necessary to hold the cage in place, knowing she might have to call upon all her strength and stamina to survive. Any course of action except disengaging the motion detectors still seemed foolhardy. She paced the cage in her dance-like manner, pondering the problem of survival until she whirled toward the switch once again—struck by inspiration.

‘My legs are longer than my arms!’

Batgirl moved to the wall of the cage facing the switch and launched one of her showgirl kicks at it. Her toe was close enough for Batgirl to press herself hard against the bars as she stretched, curling her toes to get a grip. Her foot brushed the switch and Batgirl was forced to lift her leg into position once again.

She held her breath, concentrating as her toe rested atop the switch.

Batgirl suddenly became aware of the motor running overhead and the cage beginning its deadly descent.

“One slim chance now,” Batgirl whispered as she leaped off of her plant foot while curling her toes around the switch. She hung in midair momentarily before feeling herself begin to fall. This strange sensation was replaced by pain as Batgirl felt her raised thigh wrenched upward. “Come on!” she desperately cried, pushing away from the cage bars, instinctively thrusting her body backwards.

Her balance faltered and her backward momentum made her fall, hitting her head on the bars behind her. Stunned, Batgirl slid to the floor and lay still as the cage moved slowly downward—into the pit of asps beneath her!

Batgirl’s first realizations, once she had regained her wits, indicated she was both alive and alone. Seconds later, she became aware her descent had stopped and she focused on the switch, which was now in the ‘off’ position.

Understanding slowly washed over her. “I did it,” she murmured, letting out a breath she did not realize she was holding. ‘There must have been a momentary delay before the mechanism responded to the switch.’

She reached up and pulled herself to her feet. “God, I’m tired,” she whispered. “Got to get out of here, though.” Her thoughts were well ahead of her actions. ‘If anyone comes back now, all they have to do to kill me is turn those motion detectors back on.’

A lock pick she took from a glove made short work of the lock on the door. She pushed it open and heard a clang against the side of the pit! The cage opened a little, but not nearly enough to allow her to exit. “Oh, no!” Batgirl said aloud, annoyed. She was now trapped as effectively as she had been when the cage was locked!

Looking up, Batgirl examined the chain from which the cage was suspended and leaped to grip the top of the cage. She passed one hand and then the other between the overhead bars and gripped the chain. Then, she bent her head forward, gritting her teeth as she pulled herself and the cage upward. She bore the deadweight of her body as well as the cage on her shoulders and began swinging the cage back and forth in what was at first a barely discernable arc.

She continued swinging as she pulled herself and the cage upward, hand over hand. She moved slightly higher as the cage emerged completely from the pit. Batgirl let the arc of the swinging cage increase until she could release the chain, flinging herself at the swinging cage door, which opened in response to the impact of her shoulder. She collapsed as the cage came to rest beside the snake pit.

She lay on the floor and waited for the pain to ebb away. Then, she slowly stood and closed the cage door. “You can tell them about the one that got away,” Batgirl said to the asps, grinning as she slipped on her boots; buckled both utility belts around her waist; and fastened her cape into place over her shoulders. She felt her adrenaline rush ebbing as she pushed the cage back into the pit and threw the switch to lower it. “Bon appetite . . . not,” she murmured and crept away. Batgirl moved quietly through King Tut’s subterranean palace, stepping back into a shadow as she heard the mountainous monarch approaching.

“You’re right,” he was saying, “the Tutlings are not very promising. Did you two learn anything useful as we listened to the account of Clock King’s gang’s expedition to the Kronos building?”

“The information was helpful,” Amber said, “considering none of us have ever seen the place.”

“The advantage of this approach,” Alexandria added, “is since we’ve never been there, we won’t be suspected after we clean the place out.”

“That’s right, isn’t it?” the enormous Egyptian replied. As he considered his question, he smiled. “Now, putting tonight’s work aside, we have things to do which will advance my plans.”

“Command us, oh great Pharaoh,” the women said in unison.

“Tell me,” King Tut commanded, “what has become of my insipid assistants?”

“They’re showing Clock King and his associates out,” Amber answered.

“I think they feel they need to attend their classes today.”

“Very well, girls. They’re all too stupid to follow my translation of the scroll anyway. Before tonight’s job, additional samples of the nectar Alexandria used so effectively yesterday must be prepared. That fiendish fluid will be crystallized into a powder and measured for delivery into individual doses. With these, I shall render the helots I choose into a state of unquestioning subservience.”

“Yes, Sire. None but you could have followed the ancient instructions written down by our wise ancestors. None but you could have recognized what they were and taken steps to capitalize. Look how long that scroll remained gathering dust in the library’s collection,” Alexandria said.

King Tut raised a restraining hand and seemed about to beg off of his henchwoman’s adulation. Then, he changed his mind.

“All hail Tut!” Amber intoned, bending toward him at the waist. “Your greatness is unparalleled.”

Alexandria mimicked the bow and straightened, facing her sovereign. “There is one small thing,” she hesitantly said. “We’ll need more venom from the asps.”

“I hope we have enough to do before we need more,” Amber declared. “While I am as pleased as the Great Pharaoh that they have Batgirl to fully digest, I don’t much want to watch them feed.”

“I’ll tell you what,” King Tut kindly said. “You two get started and I’ll get the venom you need.”

“Thank you, Sire,” Amber said. The terrible trio moved out of Batgirl’s earshot and she hurried to the Batgirlcycle without encountering any other criminals. The last sound she heard as she pulled away was a loud, anguished cry that could only have come from the fat Pharaoh.

“Is sounds like you had a long night, Batgirl. If you don’t mind my saying so, it looks that way, too.” The heroine was seated across from her friend, Lieutenant Diana Mooney, at Police Headquarters. “I’d advise getting some sleep before pursuing these crooks further.”

“I know King Tut will hit the Kronos Building tonight. I have a few preparations to make for that encounter first.”

The Lieutenant grinned. “Maybe I can diffuse the Kronos Building situation ahead of time.” She reached for her phone and spoke. “Officer Finch, get four officers and meet me in the motor pool in fifteen minutes. We’re going to raid King Tut’s palace.” She hung up after listening for a moment. “With luck, I’ll move King Tut into an audience chamber with barred windows.”

“Good luck, Diana. Thank you,” Batgirl said. “I’ll keep an eye on the Kronos Building tonight, anyway. Clock King may figure out you nabbed King Tut and strike himself.”

“Good thinking. Are you sure the exhibit at the Kronos Building is the only thing Clock King is after?”

“I wish I knew,” Batgirl said.

“Tell me, your Majesty,” Doctor Liz Shaw said as she stepped from the yellow roadster that had taken them back to P.R.O.B.E., “now that we’ve disposed of Batgirl, might we not be able to move up the timetable for completing the new Ace?”

Clock King remained behind the wheel of his antique vehicle, fiddling with a control. “How functional could Ace be by tonight?” he asked.

“Well, I could certainly make Ace do everything the alpha model did. He’ll be voice programmable with a control device, have a full range of standard bipedal movement, and be incredibly strong. Why do you ask?”

“With King Tut acquiring the Methuselah Stone for me, we should be able to attend to a more ambitious target.”

“Why don’t we step inside and discuss this new target?”

“Very well. Are you familiar with pyramid power, Liz?”

“No.” She glanced back and saw that he had finally left his beloved car and was following her inside.

“Well, very few people on this planet understand it properly. Some members of the staff of the Gotham City Natural History Museum are beginning to study it because they’ve acquired a relatively small, genuine pyramid to investigate.”

“You understand this power and want the pyramid?”

“Of course. Pyramids are modeled perfectly in mathematical terms and are really machines capable of what modern man would consider miracles.”

“You mean they aren’t just elaborate tombs?”

“Of course not. With slight variations, pyramids can be found all over the world and most humans have no idea how many might be found undersea if they would only take the trouble to look.”

“Okay. I’ll accept your premise. Pyramids are machines offering power most Earthlings don’t understand. Learning about this power could be interesting and quite lucrative. Perhaps . . . .”

“Time will tell, my dear Liz. Now, pay attention! The power and mathematical modeling of this pyramid at the museum would make it the most unique piece in my collection. I’m sure we’ll find several other treasures we can use to cover our expenses.”

“How are we going to walk off with a pyramid?”

“Your Ace will be absolutely essential.”

“You're brilliant, your Majesty. King Tut will be suspected of pulling the pyramid job and have a tremendous alibi, since he will be busy at the Kronos Building stealing the Methuselah Stone for you. This plan is very efficient.”

“Thank you. I rather thought so myself,” Clock King said, smiling. “Will Ace be ready?”

“Of course. I’m going to catch a couple hours of sleep and change before getting back to work. I’m sure Ace will be up to the job tonight.”

“Splendid, thank you, Liz. I’ll leave you to it.”

As Doctor Liz Shaw retired, Clock King drove to Hyde Towers and was promptly admitted to Doctor William Walters’ apartment. “You look comfortable, Rhea,” he said, smiling as the way her short robe clung to her every curve.

“I’m sorry, your Majesty,” she said, stifling a yawn and smiling. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon and decided to take a nap. Last night was a capital success.”

“I agree completely, my dear. Doctor Shaw will be busy with preparations for tonight, so I wondered if you’d like to watch our fellow criminal sovereign in action?”

“How are you going to do that? He won’t strike until tonight.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already about my Time Space Visualizer?”

“That temporal television thingy you used to learn in advance that the Time Lords would exile you? Yes, I recall your mentioning it. Isn’t it in the TARDIS?”

“Of course.”

“Isn’t the TARDIS at Dr. Shaw’s lab?”

“Oh. Yes,” Clock King thoughtfully said, stroking his chin, “I suppose it is.”

“I’d better change, then,” Rhea said, stepping toward the bedroom. Clock King followed and she turned toward him, raising an eyebrow.

“That won’t be necessary, Rhea,” Clock King said, before she could speak.

“For a space alien, you act a lot like a human male,” Rhea declared, placing her hands on her hips. “I’m not going to see your assistant dressed like this!”

“I quite understand your feelings, my dear,” Clock King replied, holding up a hand. "Tell me. Do you still have that little box I left here when you moved in?”

“Oh,” Rhea said, traversing the room and bending over the dresser. “I think so.” She pulled a small, oblong, wooden box from a drawer. “Here it is.”

“Capital!” Clock King enthused. He opened the box and withdrew a device resembling a pen.

“What is that, Clock King?”

“This is a Stattenheim Remote Control. The TARDIS will be here in two shakes,” Clock King said, depressing the top of his device.

Instantly, the familiar wheezing-groaning echoed through the apartment before the craft that resembled a Londinium police box materialized.

“I’m impressed,” Rhea said. “It seems I don’t have to change after all.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t bother, my dear. You look quite lovely.”

“Flatterer!” Rhea accused. She grinned at him as he smiled back at her. “Shall we go in?”

Clock King unlocked the TARDIS door and opened it for his companion before following her inside. He led the way through a set of double doors across the large, white room with walls adorned by circles and an hexagonal console in the center. Rhea followed him through a maze of corridors to a room with a couch set up in front of an enormous machine that appeared to be a small circular screen in the center of a group of concentric circles with circular switches in some and vents in others.

“Well,” Clock King said, “what do you think of that?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it. If it can show us tonight’s robbery, it might be fun to watch. Besides, I’m awake now.”

“Splendid. I’ll warm up the machine.”

Rhea seated herself on the couch as Clock King began tinkering with his machine. After a small explosion; some muttering about the machine being an antique; and a loud, high-pitched shriek, the picture came into focus and the watchers could see Batgirl creeping through the Kronos Building in the dark.

“You’re sure it’s working properly?” Rhea asked.

“You can see that it is,” Clock King snapped.

“Okay. Then, you must have set it wrong. Batgirl was fatally and repeatedly snake-bitten after that indecent dance King Tut made her perform. She’s dead now, Clock King. So, we can’t be seeing her at the Kronos Building tonight, can we?”

“I see what you mean,” Clock King said, his face becoming an impassive mask. “I’m beginning to have second thoughts about enlisting King Tut. Still, Batgirl is an extraordinary, young woman. Watching this robbery may be more important than I imagined.”

“Come and sit, Your Majesty,” Rhea invited. The arch criminal did and smiled at her as she curled up against him, wrapped her arms around him, and rested her head on his shoulder. Together, the criminal couple intently watched the screen.

Batgirl slipped into the Kronos Building without drawing attention and waited, keeping out of the guard patrols’ sight. She had reasoned it would be better for King Tut to get their attention when he arrived than to alert them he would come, thus risking the betrayal of her readiness.

The alarm was raised at midnight and Batgirl was surprised at how quickly the associated lights and blaring sirens were turned off. The reason quickly became apparent and Batgirl could do nothing but stare with wide eyes for a brief moment.

Lieutenant Diana Mooney and Officer Jean Louise Finch accompanied King Tut, Amber, Alexandria, and the dozen Tutlings who accompanied them! The male officers who had been with Lieutenant Mooney and Officer Finch on the raid of King Tut’s Palace that morning were among the Tutlings!

“Wait a minute!” one of the guards said. “I’m sorry to say this, Lieutenant, but no police response time is as good as this. That must mean, for some reason, you are with these thieves!”

“You’re right,” King Tut confirmed. “Take these guards into custody and lock them away somewhere,” the rotund royal ordered. Lieutenant Mooney and Officer Finch produced guns and began to march the hapless guard away.

‘They’ll come to the exhibit room eventually,’ Batgirl thought. Quietly, she moved through the building. When King Tut and his evil entourage found her, Batgirl was standing in the center of the exhibit room with her legs spread to shoulder width and her hands on her shapely hips. “I think it’s time you retired both for tonight and from crime, King Tut,” she said. ”You’ll soon learn you were a lot happier as a private citizen!”

“I’ll start by congratulating you on your survival. I’m not sure how you managed it, but a good ruler must recognize an extraordinary accomplishment. Now, I ordinarily abhor violence against women, but an exception must be made in your case.”

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve been told that?”

King Tut sighed. “I suppose several, but you probably think I’m about to order my Tutlings to do away with you and risk having this room reduced to a shambles as you defend yourself.”

“That thought had occurred to me,” Batgirl admitted.

“I’m not going to initiate a battle royal when such rash behavior is so unnecessary,” King Tut said smugly.

“I would imagine your immediate surrender is too much for which to hope.”

King Tut smirked. “No, Batgirl, I have no intention of surrendering to you. I will, however, declare you an enemy of the State and order Lieutenant Mooney and Officer Finch to take careful aim . . . and shoot you . . . dead!”

“No!” Batgirl said.

King Tut nodded. “Oh, yes, Batgirl! Proceed upon my command, ladies!” He inhaled and bellowed, “Take aim at your Pharaoh’s enemy!”

Batgirl took a step back as the Lieutenant and the female officer drew and leveled their weapons at Batgirl.

“It looks like the police raid on your palace had unexpected results.” Batgirl discreetly moved one hand to a compartment of her utility belt.

“It was fortuitous,” King Tut agreed. “When they arrived, the girls and I had just reached the point where we needed human guinea pigs to test out the ancient formula I converted into powder form. My uninvited guests have proven quite useful, as you’re about to discover.”

Batgirl felt a handful of pellets fall from her utility belt into her hand. “We’ll see about that!” she defiantly said.

“Indeed we will. The rest of you, loot this exhibit. Ladies, fire!”

Everyone could hear the hammers of the policewomen’s revolvers cock as Batgirl vanished in a cloud of golden smoke!

“Shoot her I say!” King Tut bellowed. “Don’t let her escape!”

Bullets tore through the smoke screen Batgirl had made and ricocheted off the pillars behind it, shattering at least one window.

“Let’s make sure,” Officer Finch suggested.

“Right,” Lieutenant Mooney agreed. “Make sure of your target before you fire again.”

Officer Finch nodded and the policewomen moved into the thinning smoke. Once they were both fully enveloped, they began to cough and sank to their knees, hoping the air would be clearer.

“How do you feel?” Batgirl’s voice asked.

“Like it’s time to get back to work,” Finch said.

“Thanks, Batgirl,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “How did you know how to counteract King Tut’s vile drug?”

“I overheard him planning its mass production after I escaped from his trap last night,” Batgirl explained. “I knew he had translated the formula from a scroll. I found a translation at the GCU library and left it with my friend Professor Xavier over at Gotham State's forensic science department. He whipped up an antidote powder and measured out doses for a few capsules I gave him.”

“It sounds like the stops you made after you stopped by my office this morning were productive,” Lieutenant Mooney remarked.

Batgirl’s smoke screen cleared and King Tut stared at the policewomen Batgirl had stolen from his service. The red-faced rogue glowered at them while his fingers curled, clenching into a pair of tight fists. He leaped into the air and landed, cursing. Seeming to like the sound of his own voice, he repeated the movement until his profanity-laced tirade concluded. “Tutlings!” he then bellowed, somehow controlling his anger. “I no longer care about the condition of these ancient items. Annihilate Batgirl and those traitors!”

Twelve men surged toward the trio at their sovereign’s command. Batgirl, Lieutenant, Mooney and Officer Finch separated and launched kicks at the leading, onrushing men. The women’s assailants were taken off their feet and out of the fight. As the female crimefighters’ kicking legs settled to the floor, each slid to one side and engaged her second opponent.

Batgirl felt two men seize her from behind after she battered her opponent’s mid-section, making him double over. Squirming momentarily, Batgirl felt herself pulled backward as her second opponent rushed at her with his head down. The impact of his shoulder against her ribs took her breath away. She sagged and felt the men gripping her lift her into position for a second charge. Batgirl set her feet on the floor and flung her legs upward as the rushing henchman arrived. He was moving too fast to react as her feet ascended above his head. The man collided with his fellow henchmen beneath her and Batgirl was suddenly falling. She landed on top of the pile of henchmen and slammed both elbows downward viciously.

A glance at each of her confederates told Batgirl she had little time to finish demolishing her attackers.

Finch had been backed into a corner and was busily, but aggressively, defending herself. One of her attackers was hopping around on one foot and the other suddenly fell. Officer Finch grinned as she engaged her remaining attacker with a vicious chop.

Lieutenant Mooney was battling two of her attackers as one man lay moaning at her feet.

Batgirl took something from her belt and hurled it to the floor while racing toward Lieutenant Mooney. Behind her a plume of gas enveloped Batgirl’s recovering opponents, who collapsed before they could regain their feet, losing consciousness.

Reaching the Lieutenant, the Caped Cutie gripped one of her friend’s opponents by the shoulder and turned him around so that she could hit him hard in the mouth.

Lieutenant Mooney felled the last Tutling within reach, and Batgirl and Mooney turned to Officer Finch, who let go of her last opponent after thrusting his battered body to the floor.

“King Tut is all yours, Batgirl. Officer Finch and I will see to the young ladies,” Lieutenant Mooney said.

King Tut’s rage had transformed into terror as he watched his small army of henchmen reduced to moaning heaps. “Quickly, girls, run for your lives!” he cried, leading the way. His intended victims charged toward the enormous Egyptian and his shapely sycophants. Batgirl passed between the henchwomen and pounded after King Tut, who was moving surprisingly quickly. He reached the top of a flight of stairs, scrambling forward and down. Batgirl paused and ran after him.

At the edge of the first landing, Batgirl flexed her legs and leaped, launching a flying kick at the fleeing fat man. Her boot hit him in the center of the back and sent him tumbling the remainder of the way down the stairs.

“Are you all right?” she asked, crouching over him a moment later.

“How did I get here?” the man softly asked, blinking. “The last thing I recall was taking a shower. Why are you wearing a mask and that funny outfit, lady?”

“Professor Mackelroy?” Batgirl asked.

“That’s right,” the professor acknowledged. He touched his head and Batgirl helped him sit up. “Oh, no. Please don’t tell me it happened again.”

“I’m afraid it did.”

“I was King Tut again!” He buried his face in his hands. “How long was it for this time?”

Batgirl hardly had the heart to tell him. “About seven years.”

Mackelroy looked heavenward and sighed. “I think I’m going to have to have a long talk with the Commissioner,” the academic said. Batgirl nodded.

“Well,” Rhea thoughtfully began, letting her hands fall from Clock King’s shoulders.

Clock King stood up and began to pace the room. “Notorious arch criminal? Bah!” the Monarch of Moments raged. “That inflated windbag couldn’t–”

Rhea’s mouth curled into a smile and she began to laugh.

“At what are you laughing?!”

“Calm down, your Majesty,” the girl advised. “Batgirl survived King Tut’s trap and outsmarted him. You know she’s competent. Give her some credit.”

Clock King glared at her with his hands on his hips. “Very well. What is so funny about Batgirl’s competence?”

“We know Batgirl will defeat King Tut hours before she does so. She may not have even conceived her plan yet.” Rhea watched her employer’s features soften as she spoke. “All you want from the display at the Kronos Building is the Methuselah Stone, right? Wouldn’t it be funny if we had already replaced it with a duplicate before King Tut makes a shambles of the robbery?”

Clock King considered her proposal as he sat down on the couch once again. “With the resources available here in the TARDIS, the manufacture of a duplicate won’t be an issue. The switch might constitute a change in the time stream, but who’s to say the duplicate wasn’t in place in the scene we just witnessed?” Clock King stroked his chin thoughtfully and nodded. “It might be possible.”

“When have you ever worried about altering the time stream?” Rhea demanded.

“My dear woman, I explained about the dangers of altering the time stream quite clearly yesterday and I’ll have you know I’ve been concerned with preventing ham-fisted idiots from unleashing apocalyptic forces to play havoc with the foundations of the universe for several–”

“Clock King, I couldn’t make head or tail of your so called explanation, and I thought we were discussing how you outwitted the Time Lords at the time,” Rhea tartly replied. “Furthermore, I don’t have the slightest idea what a time stream is, what forces you’re talking about, how a change would ruin the universe, how one would go about making changes, why one would even want to try, or why you would want to stop them!”

Silence suddenly cloaked the room as both of them inhaled.

Before Rhea had interrupted, Clock King had been speaking loudly and rapidly. Then he saw her anger mingled with utter bewilderment. “All right, Rhea,” he said kindly. “Listen to me. Your proposal necessarily involves dealing with very dangerous forces and I’ve known all about them for a rather long time.”

“Okay. I didn’t know my idea was so dangerous. I just thought it would be funny if, despite everything Batgirl did to defeat King Tut, we would have set up a scenario in which she could not possibly thwart the real purpose of the exercise.”

“When you put it like that, my dear, I can’t help concede the danger is fairly minimal, even though its potential is staggering. Still, the situation might be managed if you were to remain on hand to make sure events unfold the way we saw them.”

“How can I do that? We didn’t see me.”

“Of course we didn’t. You would be the proverbial puppeteer. No one ever sees such a person.” Clock King smiled engagingly at his henchwoman, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Rhea folded her arms. “Well, I was going to pull the job anyway. I may as well hang around and enjoy King Tut’s capture firsthand.”

“Splendid.”

Rhea favored Clock King with a coy smile. “We both know I don’t work for free.”

“I offered you one million dollars for your first job.”

“That sounds fair. Of course, I believe I’ve earned that much keeping an eye on Queenie and the boys.”

“I think they were originally engaged for the job you’re about to pull.”

“If you’d rather they stole the Methuselah Stone for you, that’s fine with me.”

“You’ve seen the future. It would be much safer to leave it to you, but . . . aren’t you already a very rich woman, Rhea?”

She edged toward him, letting the robe fall away from her thigh. “You know I am.”

“Well, perhaps we should renegotiate your compensation?”

“Are you suggesting I would respond to your human male behavior as a typical human female would?"

“Few human females are as rich as you, Rhea.”

“So, Time Lords have silver tongues as well as being amazing in many ways.”

“Really?” Clock King asked, raising an eyebrow. “Did you know you’re particularly beautiful when you’re angry?”

“His Majesty would be well advised to quit while he’s ahead!”

“I’ve not yet begun to--"

“Hush!” Rhea said, feeling the gentle tug at the knot in her robe as she leaned forward and Clock King reclined, stretching out beneath her.

That evening, the light on top of the TARDIS flashed as the wheezing, groaning sound that accompanied materialization echoed through the P.R.O.B.E. facility. Doctor Liz Shaw strutted into her reception area to greet Clock King as he emerged. She wore a long-sleeved, red dress and had wound a belt seemingly formed from linked, metal diamond shapes polished until they shone brightly around her waist.

“Welcome back, your Majesty,” she said. “I hope your afternoon was worthwhile.”

Clock King shrugged. “I can’t really complain. Is Ace ready?”

“I’ve prepared a demonstration. Come this way.” Clock King smiled as he followed the shapely scientist into her lab where the robot lay restrained on the floor, wrapped in heavy chains bolted to the floor. “You’d agree he’s been secured?”

“You’ve fastened him firmly to the floor.”

Doctor Liz Shaw reached for her robot control. “Ace, come to me,” she said.

Ace tried to rise, but was restrained by the chain. The robot paused and gripped the chain, pulling the ends apart until one link in the chain burst. Then, one robotic hand reached for one of the bolts holding it down and squeezed until the restraint was crushed.

Ace was then able to extricate himself from the remainder of the chains. “Stop,” Doctor Liz Shaw commanded as Ace stepped to a position before her. “What do you think, your Majesty?”

“You’ve outdone yourself, my dear Doctor. Congratulations.”

“I had time to incorporate one of the enhancements I had planned for this model.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. Let’s imagine I’m horribly jealous of your entertaining the local woman behind my back. You come back here and I arrange my revenge.” She lifted the robot control again. “Ace, slap Clock King silly.”

The metal man turned toward Clock King and raised one hand. He then remained motionless.

“I command you to attack this man,” Doctor Shaw said.

The robot stepped forward and moved a hand toward Clock King, but remained stationary.

“He won’t attack me?”

“The restriction is hardwired into his circuits. He won’t harm me, either. Tell him to do so.”

“Since you insist,” Clock King said, taking the robot control from her. “Ace, kill Dr. Shaw.” Ace turned, stepping toward her and raised his hands. He leaned forward until he was inches away from her. Then he remained motionless. “Ace, this is Batgirl, your mortal enemy. I order you to destroy her.” The robot leaned forward and remained motionless once again.

“I put both of our appearances into his memory as well.”

“They’re hardwired.”

“Naturally.”

“Excellent. I’m satisfied. Shall we go?”

“What about the rest of our help?”

“Queenie and the boys will meet us at the museum. Rhea is handling another problem for me.”

‘I can well imagine, but I’d think she’d have finished by now,’ Doctor Shaw thought. ‘Perhaps she’s saving her strength.’ Aloud she said, “I’ll just collect my coat,” Doctor Liz Shaw said. She reached for the robot control and said. “Ace, follow us to the car, then sit behind the steering wheel.”

“Oh,” Clock King called. “You’ve just reminded me of something. Rhea has the car. Public transportation will get us to the museum.”

‘She drives his limo, so he leaves her the car,' Dr Shaw thought, shrugging mentally. ‘I suppose both vehicles are distinctive and he did just bring the TARDIS back here.’ Aloud she skeptically said, “We’re taking Ace on the train? Won’t he attract attention?”

“No more than you will, Liz,” he happily replied, winking. “Come on.”

Doctor Shaw smiled at the compliment in spite of herself and followed, glancing helplessly heavenward.

Meanwhile, the Kronos Building was closing for the day and Rhea, who had walked thorough the front door like any other visitor, hurried toward the room where the Methuselah Stone was displayed. Her discussions with Queenie, Spade, and Jack O’Shea about the building’s security procedures and her own research of the problem were about to pay off handsomely.

She knew she had scant seconds before the nightly security testing routine would be complete. To be successful, she would have to exchange her prize with the duplicate she had brought and get out of sight before the system was engaged.

The duplicate stone was in one gloved hand as she moved to the exhibit. She set it on top of the glass case, which she carefully lifted from its place on the deactivated pressure sensors and placed it on the floor. She snatched her prize and put its replacement in place before lifting the glass cover and aligning it over the display. She held her breath as she let go of the cover. A quick check told her she had positioned the case perfectly. Rhea’s next task was to get out of sight. Her efforts would all be for naught if she were caught.

Running, she exchanged the Methuselah Stone for a screwdriver and small flashlight she took from her pocket. Her objective was a janitor’s closet and she wrenched the door open with mere seconds to spare. It was dark in the tiny room, but the flashlight enabled her to find the ventilator shaft she sought and her screwdriver quickly gave her access. With some effort, she was able to replace the cover after she slipped into the shaft. Replacing the screws would, of course, be impossible, but that detail should not be a problem, given no one would suspect she had ever been on the premises, Rhea reasoned.

A map of the ventilation system enabled her to crawl to a vantage point from which she could watch Batgirl and the policewomen take King Tut’s gang into custody for the second time. Once she was satisfied these events had unfolded properly, she retreated to leave the vents and exit the building simultaneously.

Batgirl was pleased as she mounted the Batgirlcycle. King Tut’s villainy had been thwarted and Professor Xavier’s antidote would transform the faux Pharaoh’s drugged assistants into their normal selves by morning. As for King Tut, he had hit his head and returned to his true identity, Doctor William Omaha Mackelroy. The Courts would have problems trying these defendants, but such complications were nothing new. As Batgirl prepared to roar off into the night, she pondered the similarities and differences in having multiple personalities and a duel identity.

Suddenly, a tiny sound drew her attention. It had been a soft, metallic scrape many would have dismissed or not heard at all, but it made Batgirl stare intently into the darkness for a long moment. When she realized what was happening, Batgirl silently let her bike roll backward into a deep shadow from which she could watch without being seen.

A metal grate was being pushed away from the side of the Kronos Building, uncovering a vent. Batgirl watched as the vent was slowly freed from the wall and quietly set to one side. A figure dressed in dark clothing emerged to replace the cover and slip away into the night.

Batgirl took a set of night vision goggles and binoculars from her utility belt and watched the retreating figure move to Clock King’s yellow roadster. The corners of Batgirl’s mouth curled into a smile as she recognized Rhea. “So,” Batgirl softly murmured, ”Clock King robbed the Kronos Building after all.” Rhea slid behind the wheel of a car and pulled away. Batgirl followed without activating her lights.

Once they merged with traffic, Batgirl engaged her lights and followed at a discreet distance, keeping Rhea in sight. Clock King’s girl led Batgirl to the Gotham City Natural History Museum, where Ace held one side of a heavy pyramid while Clock King, Doctor Liz Shaw, Queenie, Spade, and Jack O’Shea struggled to hold up the other as they moved slowly toward a waiting truck.

“Right!” Clock King breathlessly said. “Stop and set it down.” Ace and the others did as instructed. “There you are, Rhea,” he said as the girl approached. “How did it go?”

“The job was no problem,” she confidently said, striding toward the group. “I have your rock right here, your Majesty.” She presented the Methuselah Stone with a delighted grin.

“Splendid. Thank you, my dear,” Clock King said, taking it and holding it up so that moonlight glinted on it. “Your accounts already reflect the confidence I’ve always had in you.”

“Thank you, your Majesty. The rest of the events at the Kronos Building unfolded as you knew they would.”

“It’s turning into a banner night,” an authoritative, female voice said. Batgirl stepped into view. “I’ve dealt with King Tut and now have evidence you put him up to the robbery at the Kronos Building, Clock King. Haven’t you been the busy little super criminal?”

“Oh, I haven’t finished yet, Batgirl. I’m sure you’ll find the mummy case in which I’m about to have my people leave you quite comfortable,” Clock King predicted. “Of course, that happy condition will change after you’ve used up all the air inside!”

“I’m not your prisoner yet!” Batgirl pointed out.

“True. I suppose I should have something done about that unhappy reality,” Clock King said, thoughtfully stroking his chin. “Queenie, boys, dispatch her!” Doctor Liz Shaw, Rhea, and the Clock King retreated from the battle zone as Queenie and the henchmen rushed toward their adversary.

Despite their eagerness to follow their criminal master’s command, Queenie, Spade, and Jack O’Shea had grown tired carrying the heavy pyramid. Batgirl, however, had been looking forward to facing this trio again and had fully recovered from the fight at the Kronos Building. She also vividly recalled being flung from a window of the Chessmen Building and her treatment at Queenie’s hands before she had been bound to the clapper of Big Benjamin. As Clock King’s employees approached her, Batgirl smiled. Waiting.

Spade threw the first punch and Batgirl slapped it aside before counterattacking with a backhanded slap and a knee to the thug’s groin. Batgirl had turned to Jack O’Shea before Spade had collapsed, moaning. The criminal columnist pulled a punch with one hand and darted a blow through the opening Batgirl’s block gave him. He was surprised when Batgirl seized his fist and screamed as she twisted his arm behind his back and sent him to the ground with a vicious shove. Queenie looked pale when she realized it was her turn to face Gotham City’s Avenging Angel alone and that her weak fighting skills gave her almost no chance of winning. The smile illuminating the pretty paragon’s face told the henchwoman Batgirl was well aware of the odds. Queenie turned and fled.

“Oh no you don’t!” Batgirl said, striding forward and calmly cutting the blonde woman’s legs out from under her. Queenie hit the ground with a smack.

Before Batgirl could follow up on her attack and take the henchwoman out of the fight for good, she felt Spade’s arms wrap around her legs and Jack O’Shea collide with her upper body. She fell, but reached up to instinctively grab the first human limb she saw. Jack O’Shea cried out as Batgirl pulled herself up with his twisted arm. Before Jack O’Shea‘s anguished cry had subsided, Batgirl had slammed a heel into Spade’s head, stunning the fallen henchman. Once she had set her feet, Batgirl hit Jack O’Shea in the mouth and knocked him down. The hapless thug gasped as he landed on his injured shoulder.

Spade had reached his knees when Batgirl’s attention returned to him. She grinned and waited until he had reached the balls of his feet. Her knee slamming into his chin straightened him before her upraised toe shot forward, slamming once again into his groin. Before Spade collapsed again, Batgirl leaped into the air and launched a spinning kick that brought her heel into the side of Spade’s head, cutting him down and rendering him utterly unconscious.

Queenie’s eyes were wide as she watched Spade’s body hit the ground and realized Batgirl knew she had nearly recovered from her own fall. Despite being out of position, Queenie tried to retreat and was rewarded by one of Batgirl’s showgirl kicks. The henchwoman was launched into the air and landed hard on her back. Before she fully comprehended what had happened, her head cracked against something and there was only blackness.

Jack O’Shea first tried to support his weight on his twisted arm without success. He shifted and managed to sit up before arms wound around his shoulders and gloved hands clasped the back of his neck. “Now it’s your turn,” Batgirl whispered, imbuing her voice with considerable menace.

“Please, I’m just an innocent reporter, trying to get an inside–”

Batgirl leaned on his tender shoulder and made the man scream. “Shut up!” she commanded. Jack O’Shea could already feel the blood flow to his brain slowing and wondered how long Batgirl would hold him after he blacked out. His captor was straightening and he felt himself propped on his feet.

“Well,” Clock King said to his conscious henchwomen, “we still have the Methuselah Stone. I’m afraid it’s a little too late to take the pyramid tonight. We should be going.”

“Don’t give up yet, your Majesty,” Doctor Liz Shaw said. “We still have an Ace up our sleeve. Leave Batgirl to me.” She pulled out the robot control and stepped forward.

Batgirl carelessly flung the unconscious Jack O’Shea aside and stepped purposefully toward the shapely scientist.

Doctor Liz Shaw smiled. “My first robot nearly defeated you, Batgirl. Let’s see how you do against the new and improved model.” The henchwoman doctor poised the robot control in her hand. “Ace–”

Batgirl’s toe collided with the woman’s wrist and sent the control high into the air. Batgirl took one step forward and caught the control. “I’ve a much better idea,” Batgirl announced. She pressed the command button and said, “Ace, seize Clock King’s henchwomen and do not permit them to escape.”

The robot moved toward Rhea, who screamed as his hands gripped her shoulders. The girl thrashed and vainly beat at the metal man with her hands. The robot remained still.

“Ace won’t come after me, Batgirl,” Doctor Liz Shaw said. “I programmed him so he wouldn’t.”

“I’ll deal with you in due time, Doctor,” Batgirl said. “It’s time Clock King and I had it out.”

Clock King produced his strange device which vaguely resembled a screwdriver. “Ours is a battle of wits, my dear. I’d be happy to take on Batman mono e mono, but could not allow myself to fight you as ruthlessly as I know I would have to in order to win.”

Batgirl rested her hands on her shapely hips and spread her legs to shoulder width. “Thank you for your honesty. Clock King, but I don’t fight for sport. Fight or surrender, the choice is yours.”

“I am sorry, Batgirl. I cannot surrender. Despite your impressive victory, you’re in no position to make demands of me.”

“We’ll see about–”

Batgirl fell suddenly silent, watching as the top of the Clock King’s device begin to spin. She blinked and tried to turn away, but for some reason, found her eyes riveted on the device.

“Ordinarily, Batgirl, I would refrain from using futuristic technology to overcome you, however, all of the alternatives would be so unpleasant and I must confess to having grown rather fond of you, as an intellectual rival,” Clock King explained. “Also, your pluck and heroism have proven invaluable to Gotham City over the years. So, sparing your life seems the appropriate thing to do.”

Becoming aware of her strange focus, Batgirl shook her head and moved a single step toward the villain before noticing the Clock King’s spinning device once again. She tried to continue her approach, but could not. Instead, she stood utterly still, staring.

As the tiny globe on the Clock King’s device spun, she watched, leaning toward it. Entranced. After a few seconds, watching the spinning globe was the only thing she wanted to do. The tone that accompanied the spinning seemed to make the sight more and more compelling. For Batgirl, there was nothing in the world except the tone and the spinning globe. She was unaware of her free will ebbing. The spinning, humming globe was totally enthralling. Inexorably, her will eroded, fading slowly away, until it was utterly gone!

After a full minute, Clock King stopped the spinning globe with its hypnotic hum and put his device away. He smiled, passing a hand before Batgirl’s face without receiving a reaction. She remained standing and staring. Transfixed.

“You will remain motionless, Batgirl, until sunrise!” Clock King said. “Do you understand?”

Batgirl’s voice was a flat monotone. “Yes.”

“There, ladies,” Clock King happily said. “The sonic screwdriver never fails.”

Clock King glanced over the scene and noted Rhea trapped in Ace’s embrace and the ground littered with the rest of his locally-hired help. He searched Batgirl’s utility belt and brought out Batcuffs.

“What are you doing, your Majesty?” Doctor Shaw asked as he shackled Spade, Jack O’Shea, and Queenie's hands and feet.

“It would be unfair to Batgirl to allow these three to kill her when they recover while she is utterly helpless.”

Doctor Shaw shrugged. “I suppose they’ve earned their reward. Their failure to deal with Batgirl is complete.”

“Quite,” Clock King agreed. “Shall we go?” He straightened and smiled at his remaining, free assistant.

“By all means,” Doctor Liz Shaw replied. She knew better than to suggest they kill the helpless heroine, particularly after her employer had gone out of his way to protect her. The Clock King had made up his mind, and she knew better than to try changing it. Liz moved toward the yellow roadster Rhea had parked near a hedge and a short, brick wall.

“Hey!” Rhea called. “What about me?”

‘No handcuffs for you, honey,’ Doctor Liz Shaw thought, smirking behind Clock King’s back. Aloud, she mercilessly replied. “You wouldn’t be in your little predicament if you hadn’t led Batgirl here. His Majesty would then have been able to steal the pyramid. I believe you may consider yourself fired.”

“I stole the Methuselah Stone!” Rhea raged, struggling vainly. “I don’t deserve the same fate as them.” She jerked her head at Clock King’s unconscious help.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Clock King said. He reached up and took the robot control from Batgirl’s motionless hand. He pointed it at Rhea. Nothing happened. He shook it and tried it again without success.

“What’s wrong?” Rhea demanded.

“It seems my use of the sonic screwdriver has inadvertently rendered the remote control useless. I’m terribly sorry, Rhea, but Doctor Shaw is right. Don’t worry about sharing those idiots’ fate.” He gestured toward Queenie and his henchmen. “You have more than enough money to keep from ever seeing the inside of a cell again and to retire in comfort for decades. I’ll always remember you as a very, very rich woman.” He dropped the robot control, turned, and joined his assistant in the car.

“Where will we go after we pack?” Doctor Liz Shaw asked.

“Back to Londinium, I think. Our friend Lethbridge Stewart has a fabulous blue crystal, rumored to possess the most extraordinary ability to cleanse and amplify the power of the mind. Studying it should prove fascinating.”

Doctor Liz Shaw leaned against her mentor and let her hand rest on his thigh. “Since you’re pondering our next project, I’d say we’re finished working, “ she observed, smiling. “I see no need to hurry back to Londinium.” She looked up at him with glittering eyes.

“I suppose you’re right,” Clock King said, smiling at her warmly.

The engine drowned out the rest of the fleeing criminals’ conversation.

As the first rays of the winter’s morning sun appeared, Batgirl shook her head. “What did he do to me?” she asked.

“He hypnotized you with something called a sonic screwdriver,” Rhea explained.

Batgirl glanced at her and turned to take in the rest of the scene. She ignored her struggling, defeated adversaries and picked up the robot control, returning to Rhea.

“Where did Clock King go?” Batgirl asked.

“I wouldn’t tell you even if I knew,” Rhea replied.

“Really?” Batgirl said, cocking her head sideways and resting her hands on her shapely hips. “I’m sure this robot can be very persuasive.”

Rhea looked at Batgirl and her face paled momentarily. Then she smiled. “I don’t think you’d let the robot really hurt me. Besides, that control was rendered useless when Clock King hypnotized you.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Batgirl said. She raised the robot control and said, “Ace, release the woman.” Rhea fell to the ground when the robot let go of her. The henchwoman did not resist as Batgirl handcuffed her. “It seems to be working now. I’ll just hang onto it for the sake of my own safety.”

“He lied to me!” Rhea said, staring at Batgirl. “Unless the effect on the control was only temporary . . . but he didn’t say a word to Ace! That dirty creep did lie to me and left me to be arrested!”

“Keep that in mind when the police ask you about your old boss,” Batgirl advised.

“He told me he paid me!” Rhea went on fuming. “He might have lied about that, too. If he did, he’s nothing but a dirty–”

The sound of Rhea’s tirade faded from Batgirl’s hearing as she hurried to Doctor Liz Shaw’s P.R.O.B.E. offices. They were deserted. Before leaving, she reported her captives’ location to the police.

As Batgirl left P.R.O.B.E., she recalled the magnetic tracer she had placed on Clock King’s limousine and turned on the device she could use to locate it.

‘He’s probably abandoned the car somewhere or found the tracer and used it to lead me on a wild goose chase,’ she thought, shrugging. Still, following my tracer signal seems to offer me one last chance to catch Clock King and his assistant.' She quickly ruled out her second theory as she approached Midtown and the device’s location did not move. ‘He might have sent it to Police Headquarters. Such a move would tell me nothing and be cute, too.’

As she drove closer, she realized her destination was too close to be a government building and assumed she would come across the abandoned vehicle. Then, she realized where the blip she was following would lead. Her heart skipped a beat!

The Batgirlcycle pulled to a stop in front of Barbara Gordon’s apartment building! She Batclimbed the wall to her own apartment and found a plain, brown paper package on the floor outside her door!

Carefully, she removed the paper and probed the box beneath to be certain no booby trap would be triggered. She found only her tracer inside.

Her mind raced as she put the Batgirlcycle away in the secret freight elevator and reversed her tantalizing transformation. ‘Clock King may have sent the device to me so I would report it to Daddy. It's been fortunate only the Penguin has ever thought to use Barbara Gordon as an avenue of attack against the Commissioner.’ The more likely possibility had much more sinister implications. ‘Clock King, Doctor Liz Shaw, or both of them, might know my secret! and they might have known it since I was trapped at P.R.O.B.E. two nights ago!'

Barbara had always been a little surprised no villain had previously peeked beneath her mask while she was in his or her power. She reasoned the prospect of defeating Batgirl, rather than a woman dressed in a skintight, superheroine outfit, had somehow kept her enemies from discovering her secret identity so simply.

Barbara paced. “If he knew, why didn’t he do anything with that knowledge?”

Charlie, her pet parrot, squawked in his cage without offering any insights.

“If the Doctor knows, she might not tell Clock King, assuming he wouldn’t want to know.”

Barbara sat down and closed her eyes. ‘Either way, I can’t think of a single thing to do about it!'

The telephone rang and she jumped from her chair. With trepidation, Barbara stalked toward the phone.

“Hello.” Barbara decided this tentative greeting was a little inadequate, given her state of mind. “Barbara Gordon speaking,” she added, trying to sound as professional as she possibly could.

“Hello, Pumpkin,” her father said.

Babs let out a sigh of relief. She wouldn't have to face the issue just yet. For now, Barbara decided not to worry her father with her concerns until she knew more. Clock King or Doctor Shaw would likely make use of the information about her dual identity someday, somehow. If she was right, until they did, she would never know whether either or both of them knew her secret.

Beating herself up or feeling powerless would accomplish nothing. The problem would keep until their next encounter.

“Hi, Daddy,” she said, trying to imbue her voice with cheerfulness. “I’m really glad to hear your voice.”

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