To End a Criminal’s Claim to Fame

Batgirl bent her head forward and propelled herself slowly backward through the dark water. Hitting her head in this environment could be fatal. Soon she encountered a wall and twisted around to explore it with her gloved hands. The face of the rock was smooth and wet where Batgirl’s landing had splashed it. As her hands moved upward, the wall seemed to push them back and over her head. There was definitely a steep angle to the wall. Had she been able to find a handhold, she reasoned the climb would be challenging, to say the least. Batgirl followed the rock wall to her right and continued exploring.

Suddenly, she realized she would soon lose perspective unless she had a reference point. She imagined herself circling the edge of the well again and again, endlessly seeking a nonexistent means of escape.

In Batgirl’s experience, criminals always overlooked something as they planned their enemies’ fate. Her task was to find and exploit the flaw in each villainous plot she confronted. Shame, of course, had never been accused of possessing diabolical brilliance. It was just possible he had given this trap only passing thought, but that luck would allow it to succeed at killing her. Batgirl had been in so many deadly situations over the years that the odds of a villain’s trap eventually succeeding in injuring and perhaps killing her were falling further out of her favor every time she was captured.

‘Negative lines of thinking are not at all productive!’ Batgirl silently admonished herself.

One detail in Batgirl’s favor on this occasion was her utility belt. Most criminals deprived her of the legendary collection of wonders encircling her waist, but Shame had not done so. Reaching for her belt, she extracted an ovular, yellow sticker with a black bat on it, which she smoothed high above her on the rock wall. This reference point would be essential later in her search because it would tell her when she had worked her way around the entire edge of the well. Without it, she might vainly search the well forever. Slowly, she moved further to her right and continued exploring the wall, seeking a handhold. Finding none, she moved further to her right, patiently and thoroughly searching the wall and shivering.

“Keep moving,” Batgirl muttered. Then, she sneezed. ‘Friction between my body and the water might generate some heat,' she hoped silently. She knew the friction of her quivering muscles as she shivered would warm her. Bitterly, she wondered which form of friction was more beneficial.

As she went on searching the walls, Batgirl became more convinced another approach would be needed to escape. Shame had pointed out how the chamber narrowed above Batgirl, eventually forming a cylindrical shaft. While a Batarang could catch on the edge of the circular wall surrounding the well, there was not nearly enough room to propel the missile that far. Throwing a line to the top of the well would be impossible.

She began to consider alternate means of climbing the chamber walls, but felt her hand slide downward after stretching as far upward as she possibly could. “Too slippery,” she muttered. Her voice echoed mournfully as she pushed off of the wall and lay on her back, stretching her arms and legs to their maximum. Neither her arms nor her legs touched the chamber walls. Batgirl knew she HAD to think of something and that the more quickly she did, the more likely an escape plan would be to succeed.

Meanwhile, Shame and Calamity Jan led their horses into the stables and began to unsaddle and brush them. Once those chores were complete, Shame began to make sure their mounts had food and water.

“What did you plan for us to do while Okie Annie and the boys get us more motorcycles from Laughin’ Leo?” Calamity Jan asked.

“Well, I fig’red we’d keep watch on the well house from the loft o’ this here barn,” Shame explained.

“What a delightful idea,” Calamity Jan agreed. She quickly scaled a ladder and began to slip off her gun belt.

“What are you doin’, woman?”

“If we’re gonna keep watch, I don’t see why we shouldn’t be comfortable.” She carelessly tossed her hat and kerchief aside. Moments later, Shame glanced up at her and noticed the pile of items accumulating on the edge of the loft. One boot and then the other were added to the collection. Suddenly, Shame realized just how comfortable his fiancée seemed to be planning to get. “Are you comin’ up, Shame-honey?” she asked.

“Yep. I’ll be right up,” he replied, throwing a glance at the horses beginning to eat and drink at the troughs he had filled for them. He mounted the ladder and began to climb. The next item Calamity Jan added to her pile of garments spurred the outlaw into the loft.

When Shame arrived, Calamity Jan had settled comfortably on a blanket spread across a bed of straw. The flame from a single candle illuminated the scene as she shook her head and spilled her hair around her shoulders in a golden cascade.

“Look at you,” Shame said, awestruck.

“What do you think?” she asked, smiling.

“You are beautiful.”

“You say the sweetest things, Shame-honey. Come on over here.” He stepped toward her, removing his hat. She blew out the candle as he settled comfortably beside her.

Batgirl had become very still in the well, but water still lapped remorselessly at her chin. She shivered, pondering her predicament. Climbing from the well would be impossible. Treading water was starting to make her teeth chatter. If she could not go up and needed to get out, she would have to go down. In the depths of the well, the water would grow increasingly colder. Diving to explore the bottom could bring about the chilling fate Shame had planned for her more quickly.

Suddenly, Batgirl remembered she had means of summoning assistance! Doing so while she continued to seek a means of escape would exponentially increase her chances of survival.

She pulled her tracer from its place in her utility belt, checked to verify it was set to the police frequency and activated it. Nothing happened! Frantically, she shook the device and pounded it with her hands. After awhile, she removed the panel from the back. She watched in disbelief as a quantity of water poured from the interior of the device. She sniffed at it suspiciously. “The batteries are shot!”

Next she tried her cell phone. Her heart sank as she realized the bottom of a well was not conducive to getting a signal. ‘No one can hear me now,’ she thought dejectedly. Batgirl’s escape . . . and indeed her life . . . depended upon her—and her alone!

She took a deep breath and let herself become still once again. The water calmed around her and again she was aware of the tiny ripples lapping at her chin.

Absently, she began to consider how a pebble dropped into a still pond would cause ripples to expand, effecting everything they touch. ‘Why is the water lapping against me?’

“It’s moving,” Batgirl thoughtfully said. Her voice echoed and was startlingly loud. She turned her head and examined the edges of the water, noting the lack of scum or algae. She felt a spark of hope kindled into a tiny flame. The well had to be fed by an underground water source and the unchanging level of the water told her it also somehow drained from the well. She knew the answers to these questions lay beneath the surface—in the chilly depths.

Batgirl grinned as she turned on her tiny, waterproof Batlight and tied it to her wrist. She arranged a canister of compressed air beneath her cape so she would easily be able move it to her mouth without the risk of it floating away. There was no telling how far Batgirl would have to swim underwater once she found a submerged passage. She also knew there was no guarantee she would be able to follow such a passage to freedom.

She dove and descended rapidly with strong strokes. Presently, she reached the bottom of the well, where she shined her light around. Spotting nothing immediately, she began to rise toward the surface, searching further. She felt her sodden cape pull gently away from her and turned in the direction it had moved.

Deep darkness yawned ahead of her and she swam toward it, grudgingly letting some breath from her lungs and shining her light ahead. The narrow beam barely penetrated the inky murk.

Breath bubbled from Batgirl’s lungs as she felt herself enter a submerged passage, along which water slowly flowed. She congratulated herself on her preparedness as she slipped her compressed air canister into her mouth and took in some air greedily. The passage she swam along was becoming more narrow and turning unpredictably. It was also gently sloping downward.

The passage grew too narrow for her to use her arms and Batgirl kicked her way forward until she came to a steep slope with a boulder at the bottom. There the passage seemed to end!

Batgirl’s heart pounded inside her chest. She hurriedly turned. Her hands desperately explored every inch of the passage without detecting the path the water followed. Turning again, she felt the slight current tug at her cape. The beam of the Batlight stabbed the darkness in the direction the current flowed. Only the boulder appeared before Batgirl’s vision. The water was somehow flowing around the enormous rock, but Batgirl had reached a dead end!

She swam upward and began to examine the boulder. She concentrated on breathing normally as her tiny Batlight focused on the edges of the obstruction. Presently, Batgirl realized it had fallen into place and, in so doing, blocked the passage she was following. Further exploration revealed a crack, through which the underground stream continued, remained between the massive chunk of limestone and the chamber wall.

Batgirl had known it was possible the path of the water she followed might reach an impassible point, but she had chosen to move in the direction the water flowed to minimize this possibility. Therefore, moving the boulder was her best chance of escape.

She decided a lever would be the best means of accomplishing her task. Another of the items in her miraculous utility belt was a telescoping baton she could wield as a weapon with devastating effectiveness. She was proficient with many weapons, though she rarely used them in the course of her crime fighting. She pulled out her baton and moved toward the boulder. Just as she was about to slide one end of the baton into place behind the limestone obstruction, she noticed the writing on the baton indicating the amount of force it exerted when it opened, extending both ends.

Deciding the baton would exert more force on the boulder than her lever, she wedged her weapon into the crack she had discovered, before taking a breath of compressed air. She extended both ends of her baton with the touch of a button. Slowly, the rock shifted and plunged down an aperture that opened ahead of her. Batgirl heard underwater rock formations shattering as the dislodged boulder fell. The small rockslide she had caused might well block the passage ahead of her. Seeing no advantage to returning to the well, she retracted and put her baton away; squeezed through the uncovered aperture with a mental shrug; and kept swimming forward. Silently, she slid past the fallen, stone debris.

The passage narrowed like a funnel before Batgirl as she slowly became vaguely aware of a subtle change in the water. Her mind raced to pinpoint the change and she was conscious of her heart pounding when she realized what had caused it. First, her hands encountered something other than rock and mud. She shined her Batlight on it and blinked as the surface she was touching glinted. ‘Light is being reflected,’ she thought. Moving her hands over the sides of the passage, she realized the surface had been formed into uniform waves. Nevertheless, the surface was smooth. Her mind rapidly processed the data, arriving at the inevitable conclusion. She was swimming through a narrow, corrugated pipe. More importantly, pink light was filtering through the water she could see beyond the pipe’s open end just ahead and below her. The source of the light had to be the sunrise!

Batgirl’s legs churned the water above her more vigorously as she moved closer to the light. Finally, her hands encountered a wire mesh. Batgirl realized she might have reached a real dead end. Her heart sank. Shame had left her to die in the well. She had discovered a path to freedom and life, which she faithfully followed. Now, with the end in sight and dawn rising over a glorious new day, she found herself blocked in the darkened, narrow pipe.

Batgirl relaxed and closed her eyes, exhaling plumes of bubbles. Once her compressed air ran out, she would drown and the likelihood of her body being found was slim at best. Batman might have found the underground stream, but would never have been able to follow it to the end of the funnel as she had. His broad shoulders and marvelously masculine muscles would never have allowed him to even enter the pipe. He would probably have taken an underwater torch from his utility belt and used it to somehow widen the aperture.

The idea of Batman not having whatever tool he needed for any situation on his person was ridiculous. Batgirl would not have been surprised to learn he carried Shark Repellent Batspray to a desert oasis, just in case.

Suddenly, Batgirl angrily clenched her teeth. The wire cutters in her utility belt would easily deal with the mesh blocking her! ‘Why am I giving in to negativity?’ She held her breath again and reached for the wire cutters in her utility belt. Suddenly, horror seized her. She could not slip her hands past her shoulders.

Batgirl felt her lips twitch into a thin smile as she realized how narrow the pipe she had followed to its mesh-covered end really was. She pushed herself backward along the pipe. Once the funnel widened, she retrieved her wire cutters before returning to the mesh at the end of the pipe.

Moving around the circumference of the pipe, she snipped through each wire as close to the edge of the interior of the pipe as she could. Finally, Batgirl pushed the mesh aside. Then she kicked herself forward once again. Her arms thrust into a wider expanse of water. She swept them back toward her body and drew her head and shoulders forward. Almost immediately, her shoulders encountered an obstruction.

Apparently, the flow of the stream into the larger body of water kept silt and other natural debris from settling over the filtering mesh, yet any such debris carried along by the flowing stream was slowed as the stream encountered the larger body of stationary water. This slowing caused the larger granules of debris to settle and accumulate around the outside edge of the pipe.

To pass from the pipe, Batgirl braced her toes into the space between two waves in the pipe and thrust herself forward. A cloud of mud churned as her shoulders pressed against the earth and slid forward. Her forward progress was stopped utterly when her breasts encountered the obstruction. Batgirl removed the compressed air canister from her mouth and exhaled. She moved her legs and churned the water behind her. Slowly, she passed through the narrow opening until her hips encountered the obstruction.

Batgirl replaced the compressed air canister and inhaled. Once her lungs were filled again, she kicked her legs once more and pulled her arms through the water. Nothing happened. She pulled herself backward, gathered herself, and thrust herself fiercely forward. Once her hips reached the end of the pipe again, she didn’t budge!

Batgirl could hear her heart pounding and decided to rest for a moment. Stuck in the end of the pipe, Batgirl knew nothing would be gained by exhausting herself. She closed her eyes and felt her body quake involuntarily as the icy water’s deadly chill attacked her more relentlessly. Slowly, she realized the pressure on her hips had eased. She kicked her legs again and gratefully felt the earth shift against her thighs. She reached upward once again and swept her arms downward. More mud stirred, sliding along her legs until her feet were free from the submerged pipe. With legs churning and arms sweeping through the water, she moved upward more and more swiftly with each passing second.

As Batgirl’s ascent through ever more pale water proceeded, she was thrilled to feel complete freedom of movement. Batgirl had escaped Shame’s trap and was rushing toward the sweet, life-giving air just beyond the water’s surface. Presently, her head emerged from the water and she began to greedily inhale fresh air.

A soft sound awakened Dick Grayson, who slept lightly in a tent beside the sedate pond on a college friend’s farm. He remained still, listening. Another faint noise brought his eyes open and drew his complete attention to the quiet activity outside. He rose softly and peered curiously outside.

The young man’s curiosity was rewarded as a head encased in a purple cowl floated toward him across the pond. One arm and then another repeatedly rose from the water, returning with splash after splash as the head was slowly drawn closer to the watcher on shore. Dick reached back for the jacket and shoes he quickly slipped on.

As the young man watched, a pair of gold-draped shoulders became visible along with a pair of arms and the swell of a woman’s upper chest. These, like the woman’s head, were clad in purple. The college senior’s eyes grew wide and his mouth opened in silent amazement as he recognized the golden symbol emblazoned on the woman emerging from the pond.

A noise behind Dick made him glance away briefly. Susie stirred, rising. She blinked and focused on him as he put a finger to his lips. Shivering, she found her own jacket and slipped it on, searching for her shoes as Dick Grayson returned his attention to the scene outside.

The woman in the pond was still approaching the campers. Her abdomen was encased in purple and the belt encircling her waist matched the golden symbol on her chest. As she walked to the shore, her gloved hands put things away in the belt.

“What’s happening, Dick?” Susie asked softly, pulling on her shoes and moving to a position beside her longtime friend.

“We’re about to have company,” he replied, pointing at the woman stepping from the pond in her purple boots.

“It’s Batgirl! How did she get here?”

“We’ll have to ask. Ready?” Susie nodded. They emerged from the tent and waved at the approaching heroine. “Good morning, Batgirl!”

“Good morning,” Batgirl replied. “I’m sorry to burst in on you like this, but I’m freezing.”

Susie quickly retreated into the tent. Dick rummaged through a backpack leaning against a tree to produce a single-burner stove, a kettle, a packet of instant coffee, and a match. He started the stove and filled the kettle with water. Susie emerged from the tent and draped Batgirl with a blanket.

“Thank you,” the dripping heroine said gratefully, huddling and feeling warm for the first time in several hours. “I recognize you!” Batgirl said. “You’re Susie and Dick Grayson. I’m really sorry to barge in on your outing.”

“It’s no trouble,” Dick insisted, handing her a cup of coffee. “Here, drink this.”

“None at all,” Susie agreed quickly, pulling a flask from the cooking supplies. “Try this. It should help, too.” She poured two measures from the flask into Batgirl’s coffee.

The next sip of coffee released a wave of warmth Batgirl could feel washing over her entire body. “What did you put in the coffee?”

“Brandy. Maybe you should sit down.” Susie guided Batgirl to a picnic table where they sat. “So, Batgirl, what brings you to our humble camp?”

“It’s a long story,” the Gorgeous Guardian of Gotham City replied. “Could I trouble you two for a ride into town? I’ll tell you the whole story on the way.”

“No problem,” Dick said.

She told most of the story as Dick drove to Police Headquarters. She thanked the young campers profusely for their help. Dick and Susie waved goodbye while Batgirl mounted the steps.

Once they had gone, Batgirl returned to the sidewalk and made her way to Barbara Gordon’s apartment by a circuitous route. Certain she had arrived undetected, she ascended her secret freight elevator, pulled off her costume, and sank into a hot, luxurious bath. In her robe, she wrote an e-mail to the police, detailing the entire story of her battle with Shame. Then, finally, Barbara crawled gratefully into bed and surrendered to sleep.

Some time later, Shame and Calamity Jan ambled down the stairs and into the enormous common room at the Adobe Hacienda Motel and Eats. Calamity Jan’s hair was once again arranged into its customary pigtails. Both were in good spirits as they joined the other outlaws. Everyone was armed. Most wore a gun on each hip, but Shame only wore a six-shooter on his right. The grizzled bartender appeared unarmed, but had several firearms out of sight within easy reach.

“All right, gang,” Shame said loudly, “I wanna go over ‘The Plan,’ but first the barkeep is gonna get me a beer and some o’ the best chili and guacamole in Gotham City.”

“Coming right up, Shame, sir.”

“Right.”

“Since you’re gonna tell us all about your plan,” the Kid began, “I guess that means Batgirl is dead.”

“By now she’s floatin’ at the bottom o’ that well in back – face down!” Calamity Jan said happily. ‘Ain’t no doubt about it.”

“Heck,” Okie Annie said, joining in the merriment, “there never was no doubt. She’s been a goner since I shot ‘er with that tranquilizer.”

The barkeep suddenly froze. After a second, he realized the tankard of beer he was filling for Shame was overflowing. He shut off the tap and slowly set the stein on the bar in front of his patron. “Um. Shame, sir, what did you say you did to Batgirl?”

“I dropped her down yer well!” Shame shouted. “She done drowned by now!” He and his gang laughed delightedly.

“So, if I understand you correctly, Shame, sir, Batgirl’s dead body is at the bottom of my well?”

“You got it!”

The bartender frowned. “All of the water used at this establishment will soon be tainted. That is not good, Shame, sir.”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“You know, Shame,” Doctor Valentine Valentine said, “the barkeep has a point. If we don’t fish Batgirl’s remains out of that well, the water at this establishment will soon be unfit for human use.”

“So what?” Shame said. “We ain’t never gonna be back nowhere near here after we complete ‘The Plan’ anyways.”

“Well, decomposition might begin before then,” the Doctor said.

“All right, Doc,” Shame said. “If that’s the way ya’ feel, haul Batchick’s carcass out of the well. Ya’ can have the other men help ya’.” He turned to the bartender and fixed him in a hard stare. “How do ya’ feel ‘bout that, fella?”

“That’s just fine. Thank you, Shame, sir.”

“Get me my food.” The barkeep hurriedly retreated. Shame glanced around the room muttering until his chili and guacamole were delivered with a huge basket of chips. Shame plunged a chip into his food, bit into it, and began to chew. He sipped his beer and relaxed visibly. Slowly, he became aware of how coolly his women had begun to regard one another. His chewing slowed and he swallowed without refilling his mouth. He regarded both women cooly and asked, “What’s wrong with you two?”

“Me and Annie had an agreement,” Calamity Jan explained.

“That’s right,” Okie Annie agreed.

Shame waited.

“Now that Batgirl is dead, Shame-honey,” Calamity Jan explained, “We gotta decide which of us is gonna stay with you.”

“Why dontchya just both stay?” Shame asked, smiling as though his suggestion would solve the problem. “We’re all gonna be richer than a noodle at an Italian restaurant after ‘The Plan.’ I’ll be able to support both of ya’ and neither o’ you is gonna need financial help.”

“It ain’t about money, Shame-honey,” Okie Annie explained. “Neither of us was feeling very generous when we made the agreement.”

“That’s right. We like each other as friends, but hate competition where you’re concerned.”

“So, yore really goin’ ta fight over me?”

“We got no choice now,” Calamity Jan confirmed.

“There’s enough of me ta go aroun’. What about sharin’?”

“That ain’t gonna happen!” Okie Annie declared.

Shame took in some air and let out a deep breath. “Right,” he drawled.

“Shame-honey,” Calamity Jan said, “I was hopin’ you’d have a little more to say about our little problem.”

“What fer? I can’t lose.” Shame looked at the two women suspiciously. “Can I?”

Calamity Jan glanced at Okie Annie, whose shoulders had slumped. The pigtailed cowgirl nodded. “Shall we?”

Okie Annie nodded. The women silently moved toward opposite ends of the room.

“Annie,” Shame said. Okie Annie stopped. “You better gimme that rifle. Soundlessly, the pony-tailed gunwoman extended the butt of the weapon at her boss while holding the stock. Shame took the rifle.

When she turned to face her opponent, Okie Annie realized she was staring down the barrel of her rifle! Shame held the rifle in his left hand. In his right, he had his pistol and was covering Calamity Jan!

“What’s going on? “ Okie Annie demanded.

“It’s like this,“ Shame explained, “you two can have it out over me any time you want, as long as it’s after ‘The Plan.’ I promise ya’ both right now I’ll kill anyone who hurts either of ya’ before we’re all rich.”

“What are you saying, Shame-honey?” Okie Annie asked.

“He’s sayin’ he’ll shoot the winner of our little contest,” Calamity Jan said. “But I don’t understand. If you was gonna do this, why didn’t you say nothin’ the other day when we was gonna have it out.”

“The other day I still woulda had time to hire somebody else. Now, ‘The Plan’ needs you both. I need you both. So, it’s too late.”

“Maybe we should discuss alternatives to this problem,” Calamity Jan said.

“That sounds better than both of us dying,” Okie Annie agreed.

“Good,” Shame said, happily. He reached for another chip and dipped it into his chili and guacamole before eating it.

Just then, the Kid burst into the room. “Boss, Batgirl is gone.“

“’Course she’s gone!” Shame said. “She done drowned! How come y’all keep comin’ in here and tellin’ me stuff I know already?”

“You don’t understand,” the Kid said. “We dragged the bottom of that well with a meat hook five times and didn’t pull up anything that looks remotely like a body.”

Calamity Jan and Okie Annie glanced at one another and nodded.

“Maybe I better start figurin’ on Batgirl interferin’ with ‘The Plan’,” Shame mused. “Kid, get Black Bart; Doc, and Kemo Sabe back in here. It’s time we figured out what we’re gonna do. All I know now is once we’re done doin’ it, we’re gonna be richer than a man with a oil-filled gold mine.”

The Kid vanished. Okie excused herself and made her way towards the ladies’ room.

A short time later, the Kid returned, leading a tall, bald man wearing a loud coat and dark tie into the room. Bartholomew Black and Doctor Valentine Valentine each gripped the man’s arms, urging him roughly forward. Crazylegs held a gun on him in a hand that moved the muzzle randomly while keeping it trained on his back.

“Boss, we caught this character sneakin’ around in front of the hideout,” the Kid explained.

“Should I shoot him?” Crazylegs hopefully asked.

“Don’t you think we should ask him some questions before you kill him?” Bartholomew Black inquired.

“Black Bart is right,” Shame said. “What has this fella said for himself?”

“He says you know him,” Doctor Valentine Valentine reported, “and claims he knows you as well.”

The oddly dressed man had been staring worriedly at Shame. Everyone in the room was silently regarding the newcomer, who realized he was expected to speak and laughed nervously. He tried to gesture, but his movement only prompted Shame’s thugs to grip his arms more tightly. “Of course I know Shame,” the man said. “He and I once constructed a truck that could outrun the Batmobile.” The prisoner went on smiling and regarding his captors until he realized he had utterly failed to break the tension.

Everyone stared.

Suddenly, Okie Annie returned. “Why, it’s Laughing Leo, the used care salesman!” Okie Annie exclaimed. She turned to Shame. “He’s gonna make sure we get all the motorcycles we need for your plan.”

Shame stepped up to the man and scrutinized him carefully. Then, the outlaw laughed. “Right,” he drawled. “I know ya’. What are ya’ doin’ here, Laughin’ Leo?” Shame cautiously asked.

The salesman relaxed and laughed again. “I wanted to make sure Okie Annie was completely satisfied with the arrangement–”

“Really?” Calamity Jan said with a smirk.

“She was a hard negotiator,” Laughing Leo explained.

“Wait a minute,” Shame suddenly said. “How come the boys didn’t recognize ya’?”

“I had ‘em wait outside so me and Laughing Leo could talk,” Okie Annie explained.

“That’s right, I guess,” Laughing Leo confirmed. “The deal Okie Annie and I successfully worked out involves my receiving a cut from ‘The Plan.’”

“I’m sure you were very persuasive,” Calamity Jan said derisively.

“Simmer down, woman,” Shame said. “Me and Laughin’ Leo goes way back.” He gestured toward a chair with his gun and everyone sat. “As long as he comes across with his part of the deal, he deserves his cut. Believe me, we’re gonna have plenty to spread around. Let me explain . . . .”

Later, Batgirl paced Commissioner Gordon’s office. Her father and Chief O’Hara followed her progress back and forth again and again.

“For a criminal with limited intelligence, he really can be very cryptic,” the frustrated Commissioner remarked.

“What exactly was it he said before he left you to die, Batgirl?” Chief O’Hara asked.

“He said he and his gang would leave town after they ‘stop by Gotham City’s biggest stage and pick it cleaner than a carcass in a buzzard’s nest,’” Batgirl reported.

“Cryptic . . . and morbid,” Commissioner Gordon muttered.

“That bit about the buzzard’s nest and the carcass is probably less important than his mention of Gotham City’s biggest stage,” Batgirl reasoned.

“Sure and you’re probably right.”

“Gotham City’s biggest stage,” Commissioner Gordon mused. “What could it be?”

“Shame sometimes speaks in a unique vernacular that makes folksy reference to his crimes. His statements always make sense, once they are properly interpreted.”

“How are we supposed to know what he means?” Chief O’Hara fumed.

“The past may hold some clues,” the Commissioner suggested.

“The first time I dealt with Shame,” Batgirl recalled, “he spoke of stealing a rock and a roll from the Gotham City stage.”

“I remember,” Chief O’Hara said excitedly. “The stage was the Gotham City Opera House where The Girl of the Golden West was playing; the rock was a diamond pendant owned by the female lead, Leonora Sotto Voce; and the roll was $20,000 in cash Fortissimo Fra Diavolo, the male lead, carried onstage for luck.”

“The Gotham City Opera House is hardly the biggest stage in town,” Commissioner Gordon pointed out.

“The next year, Shame kidnapped Mayor Linseed and told us he was being held ‘Where the sun don't shine.’ That location proved to be the Sun Down Saloon in the abandoned ghost town,” Batgirl said.

“I’ve got it!” Commissioner Gordon said, snapping his fingers. “The year before you started fighting crime, Shame tried to build a truck with an engine powerful enough to outrun the Batmobile. He and his gang held up a pit crew and stole one of the cars during the Gotham 100. The race is held at the Gotham City Speedway . . . which seats some 400,000 people!”

“That is a pretty big stage,” Batgirl agreed.

“But . . . what’s going on at the Speedway this time of year?” Chief O’Hara asked dubiously.

Triumphantly, the Commissioner produced The Gotham City Times and handed it to the Chief, who began poring over it. “Mother McKree! There’s more gold at the Gotham City Speedway than you’d find in a Pharaoh’s tomb!”

“Gold?” Batgirl questioned. “At a automobile racetrack? In December?”

Chief O’Hara read aloud. “‘The Gotham City Aztec Foundation announced late yesterday afternoon their sponsorship of an event promoting adventure and archeology. The Foundation has reconstructed the legendary city of El Dorado, supposedly made out of gold, at the Gotham City Speedway.’”

“For security reasons, they were keeping the project a secret until it was nearly completed,” the Commissioner explained. “The keynote speaker at the grand opening is going to be a relic hunter named Sydney Fox.”

“I’ll warn them of our suspicions and do what I can,” Chief O’Hara said.

“Good,” Commissioner Gordon encouraged. “The only question now is: when will Shame strike?”

“Whenever he shows up,” Batgirl said, “I’ll be there, waiting for him.”

As Batgirl prepared her reception for Shame and his gang, Batman was following the exchange of funds between Playgirl and the Archer on the one side and Basil Bowman’s family on the other. The scene was Sherwood Bowman’s office.

“All right,” Sherwood said, his voice quavering. As he continued speaking he seemed to gather momentum and his voice strengthened. “We have the money you demanded. Now, where is my father?”

“Methinks he will be returned to thee safely anon.” the Archer replied. “Let us go to the video tape, my dear.”

Playgirl slid a tape into a player and turned it on. “As you can see,” she explained, “our Bowman-cam clearly shows our hostage seated before a crossbow, rigged to fire if he leaves the chair or if his prison is invaded. The card in the back gives the address of a website which has a map to his location. If the money you brought is okay, we’ll call you with a password that will give you access to that page, as well as deactivate the danger your daddy is in. Now, show me the money.”

Sherwood Bowman handed Playgirl a briefcase, which she waved a wand over carefully. “No transmitters. Good boy. Now, look up the website on your computer while we take our leave. We’ll contact you within the hour if all is well.”

“I have no idea how to use a computer!” Sherwood protested. “My employees do all those tedious, mundane tasks for me!”

“Perhaps thou wouldst be good enough to inform us of thy duties as an employer?” the Archer requested.

“I am the visionary,” Sherwood Bowman proudly explained. “I do the strategic planning and market analysis—looking at the big picture and interpreting crunched-up numbers.”

“Verily. Whilst thou art apportioning overtime to thy serf-like wage slaves, methinks my compatriots and I shall bid thee adieu.”

While Sherwood Bowman called his secretary, Batman followed the departing criminals to their high-rise hideout.

“A goodly sum,” the Archer remarked. “Wouldst thou agree, my dear?”

“Totally,” Playgirl said. “It should be smooth sailing from here on out, Archer. Nothing can stop us now!” They laughed and sat down to divide their illicit fortune among themselves and the Archer’s two merry men.

“Don’t make a move, you vile criminals!” Batman authoritatively ordered, stepping through the window.

“Batman! You’re supposed to be dead!” Playgirl said incredulously.

“Thou art an apparition!” the Archer exclaimed. “Begone!”

“It’s not that simple, Archer. I escaped your cunning laser crossbow.”

“How did he track us here?!” Mr. Silver demanded.

“I thought you checked the loot for transmitters!?” Artie said accusatorially to Playgirl.

“You foolish criminals. I knew you would scan the ransom money for electronic devices. So, I took the precaution of spraying it with radioactive mist the Batometer can detect anywhere within a fifty-mile radius.”

“Well, your cleverness has led you straight to your doom, Batman!” Playgirl said.

“Verily. This hideout is situated high above the Gotham City streets. Men, to arms! Defenestrate him!”

“You and your stupid, archaic lingo,” Playgirl said petulantly. “Be clear, Archer. I’ll totally show you, like, what I mean, you know?” She turned to address Mr. Silver and Artie. “Get him, boys, and throw him out the window!”

Batman leaped forward, passing between the henchmen and closing in on the Archer, to slap his bow aside before hitting him squarely in the nose. The Caped Crusader followed the villain’s backward progress until a wall interceded. The Archer lowered his head and bull rushed at Batman, who caught the villain’s shoulders in his hands, spread his legs wide, jumped, and slid down the crook’s straightening back. Both of the Archer’s men swung at Batman, but accidentally knocked their employer to the floor.

As the henchmen stared at their handiwork, blue fists impacted their noses and chins.

Mr. Silver withstood the pounding better and Batman followed it up with body blows that doubled the thug over. An uppercut lifted Mr. Silver from his feet and sent him flying backward into a wall. His body slid slowly to the floor and remained still.

Artie was bent over the Archer when Batman turned to regard him. The Caped Crusader gripped his shoulder from behind; straightened him; spun him around; and hit him once more, knocking the man’s prone body across the Archer’s.

The fight was over.

Batman turned his attention to Playgirl, who began to back away from him. “You poor, deluded creature,” Batman began. As the Caped Crusader began to lecture the villainess, the Archer silently rose to his feet and stepped toward Batman. The unarmed marksman loomed behind the hero and prepared to clobber him. Suddenly, a balled, blue fist came rocketing from nowhere to impact the Archer’s chin and knock him back to the floor.

As the Archer fell, Playgirl fled. Batman was right behind her. She darted through a sliding glass door to the balcony and slammed it between her and Batman. The Caped Crusader tried to open it; found it was locked; and turned his shoulder, preparing to crash through it. Suddenly, Playgirl’s laughter stopped him.

Once she stopped laughing at him, Batman realized she had reached for an intercom. Then she spoke. “You won’t, like, be getting through that glass any time soon, Batman. It’s tough enough to be used in one of Basil Bowman’s bulletproof limousines. While you uselessly try bashing your way though, I’d better fly. Too bad I can’t take the money and run!”

“And just where do you think you’re going to go?” Batman asked.

“Up, up, and far away from here,” Playgirl replied, laughing and backing away from the intercom, which somehow continued to function. She unveiled and positioned a labeled ‘Getaway Rocket’ on the balcony.

“I’ve seen that means of escape tried before, Playgirl. It failed,” Batman told her.

“Unlike Catwoman, I know totally how it works. It’s fully tested. You see, Batman, a good player plans for, like, every contingency, you know?”

“You won’t escape for long, Playgirl,” Batman confidently predicted.

“See what happens to you, if you, like, come after me!” she challenged. Then, she swung a long, lovely leg over the center of the missile, gripped the handlebars, pressed the starter button, and blasted off into the Gotham City sky.

Once she was out of sight, Batman used Batgas to make sure the Archer and his men would not escape, found the password to release Basil Bowman from captivity and learn the millionaire’s location, called the police, and went to rescue the Golden Bowman.

Warmly-dressed patrons milled around the life-sized representation of the legendary city of El Dorodo at the Gotham City Speedway as the motorized whine of the outlaws’ approaching steel horses grew louder. Eight riders were silhouetted against the sun as gunshots rang out, heralding the loud, commanding voice, which addressed the crowd. “All right. This here is a hold up! None of us wanna hurt nobody, so the best thing fer all o’ you to do is leave yer money, jewelry and furs in the city and move on out. Get it?” After a moment of silence, the Conniving Cowboy of Crime’s voice continued. “Good. Okay, gang. Let’s git their loot, hook the city up to these here bikes, and hit the trail.” Gleefully the riders dismounted their motorcycles and approached the facsimile of a city.

Before long, citizens were quickly streaming toward the exits.

“Hey, Shame-honey,” Calamity Jan called, “some o’ them ladies still got their purses.”

“We could go after ‘em, if you want,” Okie Annie suggested.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, baby. What you’re talkin’ about is chicken feed compared to what we’re here fer. Come on!”

The gang walked to the doors of the display and noted the furs, jewelry, wallets, purses, loose change, and watches littering the floors. “This heap big haul,” Crazylegs said, quivering excitedly.

“You got it, Kemo Sabe, but I done told ya’, this stuff makin’ a mess on the floor ain’t nothin’, really,” Shame said. “There’s a central bolt that holds this here whole thing together. Once I pull it out, we kin hook each bit to them hitches on our iron horses outside and we’ll ride off into the sunset – a lot richer!”

“Not while I’m around you won’t, Shame!” Batgirl said, stepping before the outlaws and regarding them with her feet spread to shoulder width and her hands resting on her shapely hips. ”Once I figured out what you planned to do, I set a little trap of my own. I’m much obliged to you for so helpfully walking into it.”

“I figgered ya’ didn’t drown, Batgirl,” Shame revealed.

“Unusually perceptive of you, Shame. That’s right. I didn’t. I also guessed your plan after your boast about robbing the biggest stage in Gotham City. As we speak, the police are sealing this exhibit. So, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. It’s completely up to you!”

Suddenly, the tension Batgirl’s words had woven was shattered as Laughing Leo burst into a genuine display of malicious mirth. “What ‘s so funny, Laughin’ Leo?” Shame demanded.

“Look at Batgirl, Shame,” the salesman said, pointing at her and holding his chest. “She isn’t wearing her utility belt. We’re all armed to the teeth, and she thinks we’re just going to surrender.”

“That’s odd, “ Calamity Jan mused. “Batgirl said she set a trap for us.”

“She got it wrong, Jan,” Okie Annie declared. “She thinks she trapped us, but we done got her trapped instead.”

Shame blinked and regarded the fabulous, purple-clad figure displayed advantageously before him. “Laughin’ Leo, you’re right. Boys and gals, we got the Batchick cornered like a rabbit in a hole here. Draw and drill her!”

Batgirl did not move as guns cleared holsters and aimed at her, their hammers cocking back and trigger fingers curling into position to blow her away. Instead, the Purple-clad Avenger cried out “Now!”

The single word was enough for the jumpy American Indian thug to pull his trigger. As he did, the others followed suit. They all expected to see Batgirl’s beautiful body rent instantly into a perforated, bloody mess that collapsed before them and remained still as a puddle of blood grew beneath it.

What they saw instead was amazing, to say the least.

The muzzles of their guns turned from their aim at Batgirl to point straight down while extended in shooting positions. The bullets flying from the muzzles slammed into the floor, penetrating it instead of ricocheting on from there. Seconds later, Batgirl’s attackers felt their weapons torn violently from their hands and thud to the ground almost simultaneously. The random shots the impact caused were drawn instantly downward, harming no one.

“What the heck happened?” the bewildered outlaw leader demanded.

“A demonstration of the power of magnetism,” Batgirl answered. “I’m afraid you’ve been rather predictable, Shame. I’ll still accept your surrender, if you’ll give it. Be warned though, I’m growing rather impatient.”

“I see,” Doctor Valentine Valentine said. “She isn’t wearing her utility belt, because the metal objects she carries would have been captured in the magnetic field.”

“So, what’s the problem?” Laughing Leo demanded, bursting out with merry glee. “We still outnumber her eight to one!”

“I count only seven to one-half,” Shame ‘corrected’. “You got a point, though, Laughin’ Leo. Let’s git ‘er!”

The Drawling Desperado led his men and Laughing Leo as they attacked Batgirl. She easily sidestepped the head outlaw’s first swing and ducked under his second. Shame felt two fists impact his side in rapid succession, which knocked the wind out of him and made him double over, clutching his abdomen with his hands. The toe of a purple boot clipped his jaw and sent him drifting into velvety oblivion.

Okie Annie and Calamity Jan were crouched on either side of Shame when the outlaw revived. “What hit me?”

“Batgirl, Shame-honey,” Calamity Jan said.

“You didn’t touch her, but she did a number on you,” Okie Annie said.

“The men kept after her?”

“Well, Laughin’ Leo charged in like a ragin’ bull and Batgirl did somethin’ to him that made him stop laughin’,” Calamity Jan reported.

Crazylegs let out a war whoop that was somehow transformed into a loud groan that slowly fell silent.

“I saw Batgirl jump into the air and kick both Doc and Black Bart in the head,” Okie Annie explained.

The Kid flew backwards across the corridor and collided with a golden wall.

‘All right,” Shame decided. “Grab some money and let’s get outta here!” He scooped up his hat, stood and led the trio’s retreat. Both Okie Annie and Calamity Jan took a large purse from the floor, emptied it, and refilled it with valuables. The sounds of a furious battle echoed as Shame and his women fled. Suddenly, the lawless leader raised his hand, halting their escape.

Running footsteps sounded from the direction in which they were proceeding.

“Cops,” Calamity Jan whispered tersely.

“Right,” Shame softly said.

“This way,” Okie Annie said, pointing. They hurried around a corner and flattened themselves against the wall. Moments later a squad of officers dashed past them. Once they had gone, Calamity Jan led the way, retracing the outlaws’ steps.

“Hold it right there!” a female voice said. Calamity Jan froze and her followers stiffened. “Now, step our here slowly and keep your hands where I can see them!” Calamity Jan moved into the corridor with her arms upraised and began to follow the passage in the direction from which she had originally come. Shame and Okie Annie remained out of sight.

“Hey, Officer, how come the magnet that disarmed us ain’t doin’ the same thing to you?“ Calamity Jan demanded as she and the officer moved off.

“Once the magnet did its job, we turned it off.”

Shame and Okie Annie listened to Calamity Jan and the unseen woman’s steps until the female officer passed the corner in front of Shame. The outlaw removed his hat and extracted a Derringer. He glanced at Okie Annie and saw her grin.

“You have the right to remain silent–”

“Hush up yourself!” Shame said, pressing the muzzle of his tiny gun into her back. “Stick ’em up.” The policewoman raised her hands and Okie Annie pulled the gun from her holster. “Find out who she is,” Shame ordered.

Calamity Jan stepped forward and searched the disarmed officer. “Her name is Diana Mooney and she’s a lieutenant. We done caught ourselves a big fish, Shame-honey.”

“Cuff her.” Okie Annie took Lieutenant Mooney’s handcuffs, drew their prisoner’s arms behind her back, and snapped the bracelets into place.

“Good,” Shame praised. “We’ll take her car.”

“Sounds good,” Calamity Jan agreed. “She’ll have a few guns we can use to replenish our arsenal.”

“Let’s go,” Okie Annie urged.

“Right,“ the outlaw drawled, leading the way down the corridor.

“I don’t understand how they could have slipped through our net!” Chief O’Hara fumed. “All of the reports I’ve gotten indicate the operation went smoothly.”

“Well, no one was hurt, we saved the exhibit, recovered most of the visitors’ stolen items and caught the henchmen,” Commissioner Gordon recapped. “Those are the main things. We’ll get Shame.”

“He’s improvising now,” Batgirl said. “Having gotten away from his plan, he will be easy to catch . . .” A worried look crossed the pretty crimefighter’s face. “. . . or more dangerous than ever!”

The Commissioner’s phone rang. He picked up. “Yes, Bonnie.”

“I think you need to take the call on line one, sir,” the Commissioner’s secretary said.

“Who is it?”

“Lieutenant Mooney, sir.”

“Just a moment, Bonnie.” The Commissioner turned to Chief O’Hara. “What does Lieutenant Mooney’s report have to say?”

“I haven’t received her report, sir.”

“Bonnie, put her through.” Once the connection had been established, the Commissioner began. “Good afternoon, Lieutenant.”

“I’m sorry, Commissioner,” Lieutenant Mooney said.

“Right, Gordon,” Shame drawled, taking over the Lieutenant’s end of the call. “You know I got one o’ yer girls. If ya’ want to see her alive again, git Batgirl and git over to the old coal mine on the Tyler farm. The sooner ya’ git here, the less chance yer pretty lieutenant will have of catchin’ a stray bullet.” Shame broke the connection and the line went dead.

“That arrogant--”

“What happened, Commissioner?” Chief O’Hara asked.

“Shame has Lieutenant Mooney and is holding her at the Tyler farm. Is there some sort of mine there?”

“A lot of the farms from that era mined their own coal to run their machinery and heat the buildings,” Batgirl explained.

“This department does not make deals with criminals!” the Commissioner exclaimed. “I cannot change that policy now, no matter who the hostage is.”

“Lieutenant Mooney knows that, sir,” O’Hara said solemnly.

“This is the one lead Shame has given us,” Batgirl pointed out. “The last time we anticipated his plans, we caught most of his gang.”

“You pounded them into a pulp for us, Batgirl,” Chief O’Hara praised. The Purple Paragon shrugged modestly.

“What exactly are you proposing, Batgirl?”

“Well, Commissioner, we know where Shame will be. If we get out there and capture him, he won’t have a chance to harm Lieutenant Mooney,” Batgirl suggested.

“Maybe,” Commissioner Gordon said skeptically.

“With all due respect, sir,” Chief O’Hara said, “ignoring this situation is just as bad as dealing with Shame. If we can catch him before things get out of control, we’ll discourage criminals from employing such tactics in the future.”

Commissioner Gordon leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. A moment later he opened them and regarded Chief O’Hara and Batgirl. “All right. Batgirl and I will ride out and get Lieutenant Mooney from Shame and his lady friends. Chief, I’ll need you to oversee the rest of the department in my absence.”

Chief O’Hara took in a deep breath and let it out. “Yes, sir,” he said.

“Is everything ready?” Shame asked as Okie Annie returned to the hilltop overlooking the mine entrance. Calamity Jan bent over a mess of wires spread on the ground before her.

“I strung her up above the deepest vertical shaft I could find inside the mine. There’s a light on for our guests. I ‘spect they’ll be along soon.”

“Right,” Calamity Jan agreed. “Once they arrive, this here bomb will make sure they stay forever. That there mine will make an exceptional tomb.” The terrible trio laughed.

”I might not o’ stole El Dorodo like I planned, but I’ll finish what I started when it comes to Gordon and Batgirl,” Shame said. “The woman cop was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Good luck for us, though,” Calamity Jan said.

“Shall we tell him what we decided to do?” Okie Annie asked, letting a grin curl her lips.

“What are ya’ talkin’ about?” Shame asked, reaching to scratch his ear.

“Remember how Annie and me was gonna have it out over you?” Calamity Jan asked.

“Yep,” Shame replied.

“Well, we got a better idea,” Okie Annie said.

“That’s right,” Calamity Jan agreed. She permitted herself a bright smile. “See, we figured you’re gonna get the benefit from whatever arrangement is made. So, whenever you're ready, or when we decide you’ve had long enough to think the question over, you’ll pick between us.”

“I’ll what?” Shame asked fearfully.

“It’s simple, Shame-honey,” Okie Annie explained. “When we tell you to, you’ll choose between us. Whoever you choose, stays.”

“The loser heads for them thar hills,” Calamity Jan said “But, now ain’t the time to talk about this. Look!” She pointed at the Batgirlcycle with a police cruiser following closely behind. Both pulled to a stop and Commissioner Gordon stepped out of the squad car.

“Good,” Shame said. “We’re ready for ‘em.” He, Calamity Jan, and Okie Annie watched intently as Batgirl and Commissioner Gordon carefully made their way into the mine.

Lanterns illuminated the reinforced passage Batgirl and Commissioner Gordon cautiously followed. The mine didn’t extend very far into the hillside. It wasn’t long until they spotted Lieutenant Mooney. Rope had been wound around her body to create a harness in which she had been suspended above a dark, vertical shaft. Her hands were shackled behind her and a cloth gag covered her mouth.

As soon as they spotted the captive, Batgirl and Commissioner Gordon rushed toward her. The Commissioner pulled her forward and Batgirl cut the rope from which she was suspended. Once she was on her feet, the Commissioner removed her gag while Batgirl freed her hands.

“Thank you for coming for me,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “It’s more than I expected. I’m sorry to report: this is a trap.”

“Y’all walked right into it, too,” Okie Annie said, laughing. She held a gun on them while she hung a collection of wires and dynamite to an overhead support some distance away from them. “All I gotta do to take care o’ you three is set this here timer and back out. This mine is gonna be your tomb and my Shame-honey will take all the credit.”

Batgirl stepped toward her and Okie Annie shifted her aim to the center of Batgirl’s chest. “‘Course, I’d be happy to shoot you right now.”

“I’ve been wondering which of you Shame preferred,” Batgirl said. “Tell me, Okie Annie, who made that bomb?”

Okie Annie got a quizzical look on her face as she hefted her gun. “Calamity Jan did. Why?”

“How closely did you look at it?”

“What do you mean, ‘how closely did I look at it?’ What are you talking about?”

“I don’t see where the timing device is wired into the explosive. If what I suspect is right, the bomb will explode the second you throw that switch.”

“Bull! That’s nothing but hogwash. I should just shoot you for sayin’ such a thing!” the gunwoman said, thumbing back the hammer.

“How do you imagine Shame would react?” Batgirl asked.

“You’re starting to annoy me, Batgirl. There are places I could shoot you that would make your death particularly drawn out and painful.”

‘I‘m sure that’s true, but you didn’t answer my question.”

“All right! Shame would probably thank me for putting you out of his misery, and he would never set me up to kill myself with a bomb!”

“Didn’t you say Calamity Jan made the bomb?” Batgirl gently asked.

“Well, yes, but–”

“I don’t think it’s Shame about whom you need to be worried.”

“You mean–”

“All four of us will die as soon is you ‘set’ that ‘timer.’ We’re ready when you are.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Why?” Batgirl asked. “You’d just figure it out and shoot me. Check the bomb.”

“I ain’t gonna listen to this. If Shame thought Calamity had kilt me, he’d kill her quicker than a rocket-powered jackrabbit.” As she spoke, Okie Annie’s fingers explored the bomb.

“You think so?” Batgirl asked.

Okie Annie suddenly whirled and began to march down the passage in the direction from which she had come. “That dirty little–”

Batgirl sprinted after her, reached out and gripped her shoulder. “Wait!”

Okie Annie spun back toward the prisoners and aimed her gun at Batgirl. “Don’t try to stop me, Batgirl. I’m gonna kill her!”

“Okay, Okie Annie,” Batgirl said calmly. “How many steps do you think you’ll take out of the entrance to this mine before she shoots you? She’ll know the bomb didn’t get you and that no shots have been fired. So, she’ll also know you didn’t get us. That means she’ll be waiting.”

Okie Annie stiffened and considered Batgirl’s analysis of the situation. The gunwoman swore quietly. “Shame and Calamity are on top of the hill across from the entrance. That’s the only way out." She paused to indicate the direction in which they were headed with a worried frown. “We can’t avoid being in their field of fire and they’ll be expecting you three to come out if I don’t get you with the bomb.”

“Can you really trust Shame not to shoot first and ask questions later?”

“Maybe, but if Calamity set me up, I reckon she’ll kill me the second I step out of the mine. I—I suppose I owe you my life, Batgirl–twice. Thank you.” The pony-tailed henchwoman put her gun away.

“It’s a grim situation,” Commissioner Gordon said as he and Lieutenant Mooney walked up to join Batgirl and Okie.

“Let’s have a look at the opposition,” Batgirl suggested. They moved quietly until the mine entrance was in sight. “Stay here,” Batgirl instructed and crept forward, keeping close to one wall. She assured herself she could not be seen and peered outside.

Just as Okie Annie had described, Calamity Jan and Shame crouched under cover on the hilltop overlooking the mine entrance, with the squad car and Batgirlcycle parked outside. Their guns were drawn and turned toward the mine entrance without being aimed.

“What’s takin’ so long?” Shame complained.

“Okie Annie may be takin’ her sweet time with the bomb, or maybe sayin’ goodbye to our victims,” Calamity Jan said, casting a wicked grin at the man she loved.

“Maybe,” Shame said. He glanced at his companion and was about to turn away when he realized the look on her face did not seem to fit with her thoughtful words. “What’s wrong, Calamity?”

“Shame-honey, we done tried to kill Batman, Robin, and their lady friends before and our plans ain’t never worked out, right?”

“This time is gonna be different.”

“I sure hope you’re right, but what if history repeats itself?”

“What the heck are you talkin’ about, Calamity?” Shame demanded, not understanding.

“Let me explain what I mean. What if Batgirl escapes again?”

“That’s why you and me are coverin’ the mine entrance. We can shoot the first soul to come slinkin’ out o’ there deader than a piece of roadkill used to make soup.”

“What if Okie Annie comes out of the mine first?” Calamity Jan asked.

“It don’t take that long to set up no bomb. She better hurry, ‘cause I’m about ready to blow away the first person to step out o’ that mine—no matter who it is!”

“I s’pose we really shouldn’t take no chances,” Calamity Jan said, her voice now genuinely thoughtful.

“Right,” Shame agreed, nodding.

Shame did not notice the smile of genuine pleasure into which Calamity Jan’s lips had curled.

“I would kinda miss Okie Annie if we shot her,” Shame said reflectively. “Still, all’s fair in love and war. Get it?”

“Got it!” Calamity Jan coldly said.

“Good.” The two outlaws waited. Ready. Eager.

Batgirl returned to Commissioner Gordon, Lieutenant Mooney, and Okie Annie. “It’s just like Okie said. Shame and Calamity Jan are all set to gun us down the second we step from the mine.”

“You know,” Lieutenant Mooney began, attracting everyone’s attention, “we’re all ignoring Shame’s state of mind. So far, he has threatened a lot of people with guns and done a fair amount of relatively harmless shooting. He hasn’t actually shot anyone. I wonder how he would react to the sight of a bleeding victim.”

“That’s an interesting question, Lieutenant,” Commissioner Gordon said, “although I cannot agree that every shot Shame has been behind was completely harmless.”

“Sorry, sir,” Lieutenant Mooney said, glancing downward as she recalled the bullet that had perforated his hat a few days earlier.

“Listen,” Okie Annie said, “Shame is the hardest, meanest, roughest, toughest hombre to have ever put together a low-down gang of yellow-bellied, side- winding varmints on either side o’ the Mississippi. How come you’re all talking about his state of mind?”

“You broke him out of a hospital,” Batgirl explained. “I spoke to his doctor. He is not yet fully recovered.”

“He’s been there for over a year!” Okie Annie objected.

“He’s made tremendous progress and the doctors are hopeful and encouraged, but they have no idea how Shame will react to intense stress.”

“What kind o’ stress are you talking about?” Okie Annie wanted to know.

“I mean, Shame cannot be counted on to behave in a way that necessarily makes sense.”

“Listen, Batgirl,” Okie Annie protested. “This is Shame we’re talking about, not the Joker. He ain’t crazy or anything.”

“All I’m saying is to expect the unexpected.”

“I think we can count on him trying to shoot us if we leave here,” Commissioner Gordon observed.

“Maybe I can fool him into thinking his bomb got us,” Batgirl said. Let’s have a look at it.” Batgirl walked to where the bomb was still hanging from the support beam and began examining it. Carefully, she extracted the dynamite from the mechanism. “Now, to wire in some firecrackers and a smoke bomb from my utility belt.”

“Was the timer rigged to delay the detonation?” Okie Annie asked.

“No. I was right. Thank you for not killing all of us,” Batgirl said.

“You’re welcome,” Okie Annie said, her voice utterly devoid of emotion. “Before this is over, I’m going to kill Calamity Jan.”

“We can’t let you do that,” Commissioner Gordon said.

“You just try and stop me,” Okie Annie said with a snarl.

“I think we’ll be needing your guns,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “Now!”

“I think I’ll be hanging onto them,” Okie Annie said, “thanks anyways.”

Commissioner Gordon’s hand slid toward his concealed weapon.

Okie Annie drew both of her pistols and aimed at the police officers. “Maybe I’d better be taking your gun.”

As Okie Annie covered the Commissioner and Lieutenant Mooney, Batgirl straightened and quietly pulled her Batrope from her hip. She formed a loop and tied it off with a slipknot. Measuring the distance, the Gorgeous Guardian of Gotham City flipped the loop over Okie Annie’s head.

Startled, the gunwoman spun to cover the new threat with her weapons, but Batgirl drew the loop tight as soon as it fell below Okie Annie’s elbows. The bound woman found her forearms pinned to her sides and felt her pistols carefully removed from her hands.

Batgirl and Lieutenant Mooney checked the weapons and Batgirl handed the one she had grabbed to the Lieutenant. “We have to be together. If Shame and Calamity Jan hear shots in here, they’ll kill the first person to emerge from the mine without hesitation.”

“They’re going to try and do that anyway,” Okie Annie objected sourly.

“I think I can trick them into lowering their guard. The question is: what are we going to do with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you cooperate with us in capturing Shame, we’ll ask that that be taken into consideration at your trial. We’ll all be asked to testify and some of our testimony could support your case,” the Commissioner explained.

“What’s the alternative?”

“Our report of your behavior could be unsupportive. We can urge the prosecution to turn a deaf ear to any plea bargains your attorney might suggest.”

“Calamity Jan will be punished for trying to kill me?”

“She tried to kill all of us,’ Batgirl reminded the gunwoman. “She’ll face the maximum penalty under the law.”

“I’ll help you get her. Please untie me.” Batgirl released her. “What are you planning, Batgirl?”

Calamity Jan and Shame watched the mine entrance, staring along the barrels of their guns. Presently, they heard a detonation and smoke began to billow from the mine entrance, obscuring their vision.

Shame stood, took his hat in his hand, and threw it to the ground with a triumphant whoop. “We done did it, Calamity! We done did it!” he exclaimed.

“Oh, boy!” Calamity Jan said, as her face lit up with delight and she straightened. “You’re right! Gordon, Batgirl, and that lieutenant are dead and you are all mine forever.” She threw her head back and laughed.

Shame was not listening. He took his henchwoman in his arms and crushed her against him. Suddenly, he seemed to realize something and stiffened, releasing Calamity Jan. “Where’s Okie Annie?”

The pigtailed gunwoman turned her head and composed herself, inhaling and exhaling several times to regain control. The performance she would give in the next few minutes would be critical to her plans. When Shame saw her again, she wore a concerned expression.

“I don’t know, Shame-honey. You don’t suppose somethin’ went wrong with that there bomb?”

Shame scowled. “It seemed to work.”

“Well, what I mean is, she might have missed somethin’ when I explained how to set the timer.”

Shame was now deep in thought. He regarded his companion with a pained expression. “You mean, you think she blew herself up, too?”

“I’m afraid it’s possible, Shame-honey.” Calamity Jan frowned and her voice fell to a whisper. “I’m sorry.” Shame’s jubilation had evaporated. He sank to his knees and felt the woman wrap her arms around him and hold him.

“I don’t understand,” Shame said softly.

“It’s goin’ to be okay, Shame-honey. I’m here for you.” Her grip on him tightened.

Shame took comfort from his henchwoman, until he felt his single gun slide from its holster!

“Hey! What’s goin’ on?”

“Get away from him, Jan,” a female voice commanded.

“Okie Annie,” Calamity Jan said. “You made it. Nice goin’.” She was surprised.

“Save it. You tried to kill me and now you’re gonna die!”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“You know that timer wasn’t hooked up to the bomb. If I hadn’t fixed it, I’d have blown up in the explosion.”

“You tried to kill Okie Annie, Calamity?” Shame asked.

“I love you, Shame-honey.”

Shame extricated himself from her arms and stepped from between his henchwomen. “I ‘spect I’ll be leavin’ with the one that wins,” he said.

“You gonna let me draw?” Calamity Jan asked.

“I thought I might give you the same chance you meant to give me. I’ll shoot you so it takes a few hours for you to die and hurts real bad the entire time. If you happen to take me down while that’s happenin’, more power to ya’.”

“We’ll see about that,” Calamity Jan said. Her hands moved quicker than the human eye, snatching her guns from her holsters and thumbing the hammers back as she aimed them at her rival. “Ow!”

Two bullets snatched the guns from Calamity Jan’s hands and sent them spinning away harmlessly. “Keep your hands where we can see them!” Commissioner Gordon commanded.

“How did they survive?” Shame wondered aloud.

“Why, thank you, Commish. You and the lieutenant are pretty good shots. I’m mighty obliged to ya’,” Okie Annie said, thumbing back the hammer of her six-shooter and aiming at Calamity Jan. “Adios, chicka.”

As Okie Annie was about to squeeze the trigger, she felt something slice across her thumb and felt the weight of the weapon tear it from her hand. The disarmed desperado stared at her bleeding hand and the flying piece of metal that had done the damage. As Okie Annie watched, Batgirl caught her Batarang. “None of us are going to die here today,” she said.

“Dang it!” Shame said. “You tricked me . . . and you know I’m no good in a fight when I’m unarmed.” He waited a beat, then dove at the ground and somersaulted to where his discarded hat lay. He plunged his hand to the interior of the brim and opened his mouth. “What happened to my backup?”

“Looking for this?” Lieutenant Mooney asked, displaying the tiny Derringer in one hand. “You used it to kidnap me. Remember? That trick’s getting old. You are all under arrest.” She handcuffed Shame and his women before reading them their Miranda rights. “Well, Batgirl, it looks like you’ve helped us wrap up another case.”

No one responded.

Lieutenant Mooney and Commissioner Gordon looked around without seeing their purple-clad companion.

A receding cloud of dust was the only remaining trace of the Batgirlcyle. “It looks like Batgirl done moseyed off into the sunset,” Shame observed. “Who do you ‘spose she really is?”

“Batgirl guards her secret identity as closely as her masked, crime-fighting comrades,” Commissioner Gordon said.

“She can keep her secrets,” Lieutenant Mooney concluded. “She’s a tremendous asset in our never-ending war on crime.”

“Well said, Lieutenant!” Commissioner Gordon complimented. “Well said.”

A couple of hours later, the faint warmth of a sunny, Northeastern early December afternoon had given way to a cold, clear Gotham City night. The metropolis was adorned in festive, multi-colored lights, befitting the holiday season. Uptown, L. Jack Baum was delighted to see a beautiful young redheaded woman and three female companions make their way onto his Christmas tree lot.

“We’ll take this one,” another customer said, distracting him from the delightful tableau.

“Right,” Baum said, accepting their payment. “I’ll just help you get it into the car.” He and the gentleman worked for a few minutes, while the customer’s family watched.

“Can we decorate it tonight?” the little boy asked.

“Please?” his sister begged.

“Maybe we can get started,” the man’s wife suggested diplomatically.

“We’ll see,” the father said. The family piled into the car and drove off.

When Baum returned to his booth, the redhead was talking to one of her friends, a pretty brunette. The other two, one a blonde with curls and the other with pure white hair, watched him as they leaned on what were apparently walking sticks.

“How can I help you ladies?” Baum asked, smiling pleasantly.

“Why don’t you show us these beautiful trees?” the redhead asked sweetly. She, as well as her companions, appeared to be in their early to mid-twenties.

“It would be my pleasure.” They followed him to the back of the lot and formed a semicircle around him. “So, do you see anything you like?”

“Yes and no,” the redhead replied, a touch of menace in her voice.

“I don’t understand.”

The redhead laughed. “Let me explain it to you, handsome,” she said, approaching him. L. Jack Baum was not a particularly handsome man. Short, slightly overweight and with an ever-expanding bald spot on top of his head, he doubted the four young women found him attractive.

The redhead moved directly in front of Baum and turned to hold him with a hard stare. He stepped back and realized she was determined to maintain the scant distance between them.

L. Jack Baum would not normally have been averse to the closeness of another human being, particularly a female as beautiful as this one, but there was a dangerous, threatening quality to the redhead’s presence. Baum instinctively knew she had come to him bearing neither season’s greetings nor holiday goodwill. He began to edge sideways. To his dismay, he discovered the woman’s companions had crowded toward him; flanked him; and in so doing, cut off his escape.

“I think the trees are lovely,” the redhead said. The salesman momentarily hoped his instinct was wrong, but an edge crept into the woman’s voice when she continued. “Of course, they’ve only just been cut. Now, all they have to look forward to is drying out to become withered, lifeless deadwood.”

“They aren’t a fire hazard, ma’am. By simply keeping an adequate supply of water in the tree stand, one can go on enjoying the tree well after the holidays.”

“I think it’s sad when the most majestic conifers in the world are literally reduced to decorations every year. Don’t you?”

The other three women murmured their agreement. From somewhere, however, Baum found the courage to dissent. “I wouldn’t say that, ma’am.”

“Wouldn’t you?” the redhead asked. Something flashed in her eyes as she put her hands on her hips and regarded the man. “Do tell! I want to hear this.”

“Okay,” Baum began nervously. Despite the cold, he was sweating. “Maybe you saw how happy that family was that just left here. These trees are sold to help folks like them enjoy their holidays. They celebrate the generosity of the human spirit.” He could feel himself gaining rhetorical momentum and continued, “Many people feel the holiday is a birthday party for the greatest hero that ever lived; the one who defeated the Prince of Darkness. Come on, lady. We’re talking about Christmas trees. If they gave no one joy, we wouldn’t bother to harvest them–”

“Harvest them!?” the redhead repeated.

“Well, it is my business, ma’am.”

“So! You admit you profit from the murder of these beautiful trees?!”

“Murder? What are you talking about? Who are you?”

“Permit me to introduce myself,” the redhead said. “My name is Pamela Isley, but you may call me Poison Ivy. My unarmed assistant is Veronica. Grab him!” Poison Ivy’s empty-handed, brunette companion stepped toward Baum and seized him in a surprisingly-strong grip. “My other assistants, Nancy and Betsy, will demonstrate why those cudgels they carry were made to resemble bamboo.”

Jack Baum squirmed in Veronica’s grip, but could not break free. “Listen. Does bamboo just fall over for those who deal in it as a comodity? What I mean is, isn’t it harvested, just like my trees?”

“Poison Ivy didn’t say the cudgels were made of real bamboo,” his captor said.

“These cudgels are made mostly out of graphite,” Nancy explained.

“They look beautiful, though,” Betsy elaborated, “just like the bruises we’re going to put on you.”

“First, however,” Poison Ivy said. “I’ll relieve you of your ill-gotten gains.”

Poison Ivy stepped even closer to him and slid her hands over his body, quickly locating his wallet, money belt, and an envelope full of bills from an inner coat pocket. When Poison Ivy stepped back, she nodded and smiled as Nancy and Betsy moved closer to their intended victim.

“Do you want us to kill him, Ivy?” Nancy, the blonde, asked.

Poison Ivy paused, seeming to consider the suggestion’s merits. “Dead, he’d be a more effective warning to his ilk, but alive, he’d be able to explain our agenda.”

Baum regarded Poison Ivy with eyes as wide as saucers while she made her decision.

“No,” she decided. “Let him live. Perhaps he’s not as stupid as he looks. Maybe he’ll learn from his experience.”

“So,” the white-haired Betsy said, regarding her intended victim with a shrug and hefting her weapon, “we only get to break you.”

“Get ready,” Nancy sweetly added, smiling. ”This is going to hurt.”

“Wait!” Poison Ivy commanded. She returned to Baum and yanked at what was left of his hair, pulling his face toward hers. She kissed him hard and deeply, crushing her body against him before stepping back with a triumphant laugh. The breathless Baum stared fearfully at her. “Now, let the plant kingdom’s war against the animal aggressors begin!”

Veronica shoved the man roughly to the ground as Nancy and Betsy swung their weapons. Poison Ivy watched without emotion as the man’s attackers mercilessly battered him, pummeling their helplessly whimpering victim with repeated, bone-shattering blows.

“Veronica, help me in liberating these trees while they finish with this animal.”

“We’ll be right with you, Ivy,” Betsy said, pausing as Nancy’s blow landed.

“Yeah!” Nancy said, as Betsy’s swing connected. “He won’t last long.”

Poison Ivy had lined up three trucks. She and Veronica began to walk the trees aboard. They had just about finished loading the trees when Nancy and Betsy joined them.

“Jolly Jack is unconscious,” Betsy reported.

“I hope his holidays are happy in the hospital,” Nancy said.

“We’ve won the first battle without a hitch,” Betsy said happily.

“The war is on now,” Veronica said. “There’s a phone in the lot booth. Shall I call the police and report the location of our object lesson?”

“No,” Poison Ivy said. “I’m reserving that pleasure for myself. Before we’ve finished, the victims of our war on tree killers will fear us: their allies will become casualties, and we’ll make a tidy profit from the spoils. Let’s get the trees to the lab and move on to the next skirmish!”

The four felons cast a baleful glance over their shoulders at the beaten L. Jack Baum and laughed. Poison Ivy retrieved a cell phone as their trucks drove away.

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