Case File 2738 Epilogue: Gone Missing
Part One
Dick heard the alarm before he even turned the corner. Shrieking, wailing and
making an unholy noise he knew it was his car before he saw the thing. Windows
smashed, doors left open and everything that could be ripped out in two minutes
or less gone.
Crap.
But it was just a car. It wasn’t even his special car, the one he’d spent almost
a year customizing for his special needs. It was just your run of the mill;
anyone with the money or the credit could drive it off the lot piece of
transportation.
It was even fully insured and would probably be replaced in a day or two. No
problem.
He’d make a call; they’d hear his name and jump to it. That’s all it would take.
He stood there looking at what little remained inside and there wasn’t much.
Radio/CD player: gone. Radar detector: gone. Glove compartment: empty. Imported
designer sunglasses from the visor: gone. Shopping bags on the back seat: gone.
Laptop: gone.
Laptop.
Oh fuck.
Sure, it was triple password protected and the odds of someone being able to
access the hard drive were slight but—fuck.
Okay, fine. Pain in the ass but he could deal with this. He used his cell to
call his insurance agent, AAA, the cops and Oracle to report the missing
computer and have her make sure it hadn’t been accessed and, if possible,
disable the hard drive. Better to have it toasted than to have it fall into
wrong hands. Besides, he had the thing backed up on an external hard drive back
at the cave. An hour later the official report was filled out and a rental car
was at his disposal until his own car was replaced. Everything was under control
and it would be okay. Bruce would be pissed, but no real harm done. It was
contained.
Later that night, tired and in a bad mood, he let himself into his apartment.
Scoring some cold Chinese from the fridge for a late dinner, he sat on the couch
and went through his mail then idly hit the message button on his answering
machine.
“Hello, um, hi, Mr. Grayson. Look, I hate to lay this on you but, um, my office
was broken into last night and—oh crap—some stuff was stolen and I just realized
that your file is gone. I know…um, this is pretty bad. There was a lot of shit
in there you don’t want out there. The cops are on it, so I guess…maybe you
could work with them or something. I’m really sorry, y’know? It was in a safe
and everything but—crap. Call me, okay?”
This was serious. This was really bad. This was a potential disaster. This was
one of his worst nightmares and Bruce, the Titans and the entire Justice League
would all be on his back about this. On the positive side, they’d all do
whatever they had to so the thing was destroyed, recovered or neutralized.
Of course, his reputation was a competent colleague who could hold his own with
the best in the world would take a hit from this but, well, shit happens, right?
Well…crap.
An hour later he walked into the study at Wayne Manor. Bruce was looking over
the household accounts. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Alfred implicitly, but he
liked to stay abreast of things. His father had drilled that into him when he’d
discovered their family CPA skimming half of one percent off the top. It was
barely enough to notice, but Tom Wayne was sharp guy and he caught it.
Bruce always checked the books.
“Yes?” Bruce didn’t seem in the least surprised to see Dick.
“We may have a small problem. My old shrink left me a message—his noted from our
sessions were stolen yesterday or last night.” Bruce raised one eyebrow. “My lap
top was lifted today as well, the same time my car was trashed.”
“Not a coincidence.”
“I wouldn’t think so, no.”
“How large a problem are we potentially looking at?”
“My computer was as secure as it’s possible to make it and Barbara is trying to
do a remote wipe of the hard drive. That should be okay.”
“But?”
“But the notes were a combination of hand written and downloaded from his
computer—hard copies. And yes, there are names and a lot of details. Secret
ID’s, personal stuff about the Titans and some things about the League.”
“And me, too, I assume.”
Dick nodded. “And, no, I don’t know yet who did this.”
Bruce stood, “Then I suggest we find out.”
* * *
They started by questioning the psychologist. Batman and Nightwing were in
costume to make a point, though the doctor knew their identities because of
Dick’s therapy sessions over the last year or so. He insisted he had no idea who
might have had the access to even know that either Dick Grayson or Nightwing was
a patient of his and knew of no one who would engage in break and enter. He
insisted hat he hadn’t been contacted regarding any kind of ransom for the
material and that nothing else was stolen. Clearly the information was the
target; the question was what would be done with it.
Next a quiet series of inquiries and searches were made to anyone who might
profit from this kind of information—at least on a quasi-legitimate level. They
investigated publishing houses, magazines, television corporations and shows,
film companies. They kept their ears to the ground to see if anyone was offering
the info through any of the usual channels.
They went through every compute/internet search engine they could—with Oracle’s
help to find if anything was being offered through those outlets.
Nothing.
* * *
Three hours before dawn (Eastern Daylight Time) Nightwing was mid-search down by
the Moors of Bludhaven when Superman landed lightly beside him.
“Any luck yet?”
“’Just a matter of time. We’ll get it.”
“Before it leaks? The members of the League are concerned and we’ve gotten calls
from both the Titans and the Outsiders, too.”
“I know, we’re…”
“Looking. Yes. How much information are we talking about here?”
Nightwing sat on a cement wall next to the water. “A lot. I’m not sure what
exactly was in the doctor’s notes but I know what I talked to him about and if
he was writing it all down—a lot.”
“Identities?”
“Yes.” Clark sighed in what seemed some frustration or, Dick thought, perhaps
disappointment. “I’m sorry.”
“I know you are; we all do but that doesn’t really…we’ve decided to make this a
priority for the League. Available members are doing what they can. We should
have a resolution with in a few hours.”
Which made Dick feel like complete crap. Bad as the theft itself was, he knew
this was his fault and now the entire JLA knew it as well. There was really
nothing to say to mitigate what happened so he just nodded in agreement. Yes,
the League should help, do what they can and get this wrapped up as soon as
possible for everyone’s sake. Christ, Wally had kids; almost everyone had a
secret life to protect with vulnerable friends and family members. This had to
be contained as fast as possible. “All right. Good. Thank you.”
* * *
The expected message finally came through.
The blackmail letter—expected—was found at the bottom of Wayne Manor’s driveway,
taped to the main gates. The security camera was blocked with a piece of black
electrical tape. No faces were seen, no vehicles were filmed.
“One Billion dollars. Tuesday. Seven PM. Drop point to follow. No money? Your
choice. Have you seen the old man today?”
TBC
4/20/08
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