Filthy Rich

Chapter 6

Batman was just loading Robin into the Batmobile when the police arrived, five squad cars and a paddy wagon’s worth. The art thieves were quickly readied to be transported down to booking while the detectives went through the museum to see what damage was done and what was missing.

“That their van? Okay, let’s see what they have in the back, boys.”

“Holy Kajolie—this stuff is the real deal. Rembrandts and this one, cripes, this one is an El Greco and that’s a Rubens. Millions, these things are worth millions. These guys have taste; I gotta give them that. Good job Batman, you make our jobs easier and that’s a fact.”

His partner jabbed an elbow into his side. “Johnny, you know art?”

“Minored in art history, yeah. Great stuff…you ever go to museums Billy?”

The security lights mounted on the building gave enough light for the police to see the blood on the pavement. “We know who owns this?”

Batman was just getting into the Batmobiles’s driver’s seat. “Robin’s been injured, I’m taking him to get help.”

“Robin—crap, it serious? Jimmy, give them an escort, lights and use the siren if you have to. Where you going, Wayne General?”

Batman was stuck, he was going to take the boy straight home and have Leslie come to the house but he couldn’t now. Dammit. “Yes, Wayne.”

“Jimmy, call it in, let them know you’re on the way.”

“You got it, Lieutenant.”

The press monitored police transmissions, just standard practice, so when they got to the ER three TV units and at least half a dozen reporters for everything from the Gotham Times to TMZ met them. There was no way to keep this quiet. None. And if Robin was injured then they needed a cover story for Dick Grayson.

Minutes later at the hospital Robin was placed, semi-conscious, onto a gurney and wheeled inside, flashbulbs firing along with camera phones, news cameras…this was going out live.

What a mess.

He used the secure line to call Alfred. “Robin has been injured, we’re enroute to Wayne General. I need you to start one of the backup plans; it looked like he’ll be out of commission for at least a couple of weeks and so that means that both the Titans and is school will have to be addressed.” It also meant that the household staff would need some kind of reason why the young master wasn’t around and they needed to decide which cover would be the best choice this time around.

Alfred would know what to do, he always did.

And Tom; he could be a problem with his current obsession but that could be dealt with later, right now the concern was Robin; how badly was he hurt, was it life or career threatening?

They hospital was ready for them when they got to the ER, an examining area was ready and blocked off from any outside eyes or cameras and an OR had been reserved just in case it would be needed. The head of Emergency Services happened to be on call that night and took charge of the case. The kid was prepped for the initial exam, his clothes cut off. Oxygen and an IV started with the basic saline solution. Radiology took several initial films which showed that his left clavicle and the three top ribs were chipped or fractured by the Batarang, skin and muscles were both severely sliced, there were cut veins and an artery might be damaged as well as several tendons and ligaments. He’d also suffered blood loss and was both unconscious and in deep shock.

It was serious.
 

* * *

Dick Grayson was in school the next day, his homework was finished and, to anyone who cared enough to notice, he was the picture of health. He was also there every day for the rest of the week, ready to work and acting like his normal self. He ate lunch with his usual group of friends, won two games at chess club on Thursday and impressed the teacher with his insight into the psychology in Shakespeare’s Tempest.

Tom opened the gates for him every morning and afternoon, the boy even threw him a wave as he passed by and once stopped for a moment to ask how Traver was doing with his math.

Whatever was going on up at the big house, evidently Tom never made the connection between Dick Grayson and Robin. So far that was about the best that could be said for the situation.

The doctors decided quickly that Robin needed immediate surgery to repair the damage to his arm, shoulder and upper chest. He came through the operation well but the long-term effects wouldn’t be known for at least several months. Batman asked that the best possible physical therapists be brought in and asked questions about when they could start working with Robin.

“You have to understand how important it is for him to be able to perform at the level that he’s used to.”

“I understand that, sir, but we simply can’t make any guarantees. With damage this extensive we can only do our best. He’s young, strong and tremendously motivated so he’ll make quite a good deal of progress but the human body has limits beyond which it simply can’t recover.”

He’s only fifteen years old.”

“I know that and you know that we’ll do everything possible, as will he, I’ve no doubt. He’s quite—strong willed.”

“Yes…”

 

* * *
 

A week after Robin was very publicly admitted to the hospital, accompanied by ‘breaking news’ flashes with hourly updates on virtually ever television channel, Twitter and every celebrity/superhero blog he was released to an undisclosed and secure rehab facility under a news blackout for his own safety.

The hundreds of flower arrangements, thousands of get well cards and endless presents were destroyed, forwarded to a fan answering service or distributed to other patients who might enjoy them.

The day before Tom opened the main gate for the Bentley, which stopped as it pulled even with him. The passenger window opened and Dick called to him, ‘I’m going to visit my grandfather for a few weeks, tell Trav that he’ll do fine on the Trig final and not to worry about it.”

“I’ll do that, have yourself a good time and take care of yourself—is Mr. Wayne going?”

“’Has to work, maybe next time.”

Tom nodded and waved them through, closing the gate as the car turned onto the road. Well, good—at least he’d be out of harms way for a while.

Poor kid.

 

* * *
 

Alfred drove directly to an underground parking garage, using the concealed entrance and let his passenger out as asked. “Master Bruce wants to express his thanks for your great help the past week, Mr. J’onzz. You’ve been more than kind.”

“I’m pleased to be able to help and please be sure to tell Dick that I’ll be stopping in to see him as soon as get caught up. He’s a good kid.”

“Indeed he is. I add my own thanks, sir. Should I ever be able to assist you in any way, you’re not to hesitate to simply ask.”

“I’ll remember that. Get back safely.”

 

* * *
 

“I’m just relieved that Wayne sent Dick out of the country for a while, that’s all. He can’t get his hands on him for a change.”

“Tom, I know that your concern is for the young man, but you don’t have any proof…”

“I know what I know, Reverend Jack. Wayne shouldn’t be walking around in decent society and that poor kid is the one taking the brunt. If Wayne were you or me he’d be locked up but when you can buy and sell your way through life—it’s what it is. ‘The way it’s always been, the way it always will be.”

“Tom…”

“I know and I don’t even care about Wayne—it’s Dick; he’s the one I wish I could help. Wayne has to live with himself but Dick—he’s got to deal with it.”

“I really think that you’re letting this obsession get a little out of hand, Tom—Wayne is a high profile man, if there were any serious questions beyond simple gossip I’m sure that he’d have had to answer for it by now.”

“It’s money, Jack. It all comes down to money, the haves and the have-nots. Nothing changes.”

“I’m saying this as a friend; if you don’t have any proof, with all the looking you’ve been doing all this time, it’s time to let this go for your own good—for Traver’s good. Back off a bit and see what happens.”

“It’s not that easy, Jack. I can’t just abandon that boy. I don’t have it in me.”

 

* * *
 

Six weeks later Dick was home from his family visit and Tom saw the new car he was given for his sixteenth birthday and knew what happened. The kid had been bought off. Money, that’s what everything always came down to. It was the way of the world.

He’d hoped that things would be different this time around; Dick was a little older, he’d been away and should have gotten a fresh perspective but it looked like it was business as usual at the Manor.

Nothing had changed.

TBC
 

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