Little Boy Lost

by: Syl Francis


Rating: PG-13

(for language and situations)

Chapter Seven

Batman made short work of Zucco's mooks. Within minutes they were trussed up with plastic tie wraps, waiting for the GCPD to pick them up. There was enough evidence inside the warehouse to send them all away for a very long time. Unfortunately, none of it could be tied directly to Zucco. The loss of the weapons shipment was a serious setback, but Zucco's organization was too firmly entrenched to be successfully stopped for long. Batman left the men for the civilian authorities. He had more pressing matters to attend to--namely, a frightened nine-year-old boy whose face had haunted his dreams for the past two weeks.

He'd never forget the horror of watching the Flying Graysons' fall to their deaths or the empty look in the boy's eyes as he stared into space, deeply in shock. Billionaire Bruce Wayne had been in the audience that night, but it was seven-year old Bruce who'd witnessed the double murder, reliving his own parents' deaths. Unconsciously, his heart had gone out to the boy, and he'd been looking for Zucco ever since.

Batman had assumed that the boy had been allowed to stay with the Haly Circus; he'd observed how all of the performers cared deeply for the boy, and how they'd all been devastated by the double loss. Furthermore, he'd seen how much the owner, Pop Haly, loved the boy. Why in the world had the Youth Authority been awarded custody? Why in the world hadn't he, the World's Greatest Detective, been aware of the fact until the boy had actually run away from the Juvenile Detention Center?

As Batman zoomed back to the cave, he wasn't sure in whom he felt the greater disgust: himself or Dr. Cunningham, the Director of the Child Welfare Services. Well, Bruce Wayne still had some influence in this town, and he was about to start cashing in some chips.

As he stepped out of the Batmobile, Batman's demeanor seemed even grimmer than usual. His butler Alfred raised his right eyebrow with urbane aplomb. Something certainly had his master in a snit lately. It was probably the fate of that young Grayson boy; ever since the terrible accident at the circus two weeks ago, it seemed as if Master Bruce had entered a living hell. He hadn't eaten or slept for almost four days straight now, and Alfred was seriously contemplating slipping him a sleeping draught in his coffee.

"Good evening, sir . . . good hunting tonight?" Alfred asked. He didn't really expect a reply and almost dropped the tray he was holding when his employer responded.

"Stopped a weapons shipment at the waterfront. Zucco's goons. I also found Jamie McEwan, the juvenile pickpocket who escaped yesterday from the JDC, but had to let him go. He claims to have the Grayson boy in his protective custody." Batman paused. "We were right. Zucco has a contract out on the boy. I've got to find that monster before he--" Batman stopped, a wave of dizziness washing over him.

Alfred immediately lay down his tray, and helped his unwilling employer to a chair. "You *must* take some sustenance, Master Bruce. I in*sist*, sir! You're no good to that boy or to yourself if you pass out from lack of food and sleep! Please, Master Bruce . . . a few minutes will *not* make a difference in your endless war!"

Batman nodded, too exhausted to argue. He slipped off his cowl, the seemingly simple act transforming him into his public persona of Bruce Wayne. Not yet thirty, he felt like he'd lived a dozen lifetimes already. Alfred was right. He wouldn't do that Grayson boy any good if he collapsed from fatigue. If he'd only *known* about the boy being sent to the JDC! How could he have allowed such information to slip by him?

He reached absentmindedly for the dinner that Alfred had so painstakingly prepared for him. Delicious! Wayne's ravenous hunger took over. He wolfed down his dinner, much to Alfred's alarm, but still felt hungry once he'd finished.

"Alfred, I don't suppose you have any more of . . . whatever I just ate, do you?" Alfred smiled and nodded.

"Of course, sir. Right away, Master Bruce." Alfred took the empty dishes, and quickly returned to the Manor. The master requesting seconds was a rare enough occasion that Alfred felt he'd best hurry before he changed his mind. Or before the Batsignal called him away on some new emergency.

Wayne stepped into the uniform vault, feeling a little better. He changed into a pair of sweats, and walked over to his command console. He quickly began running several search engines.

"Zucco . . . Zucco . . . Where are you hiding, you sewer rat? I'll find you if it takes the rest of my life!"

Wayne turned at the sound of a soft step behind him. Alfred stood there looking respectful, yet profoundly sad at the same time. He held a tray laden with second helpings. Wayne looked at the man who'd raised him since his parents' deaths, and felt a sudden rush of gratitude for his loyalty.

"Thanks, Alfred . . . I'll take that. Why don't you go on ahead and turn in? I promise I won't go out again tonight. I need to be at Wayne Enterprises tomorrow. I have an early morning meeting with Lucius Fox about one Richard John Grayson."

Alfred raised a single eyebrow in silent query.

"I've decided to try to adopt him, Alfred." Alfred looked nonplussed, but recovered immediately. "I know . . . I know . . . What are the chances of a rich playboy being allowed to adopt a lone boy, when the people who love him the most weren't given custody, because the state found *them* unsuitable?" Wayne shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know if I'll win custody, Alfred, but I know one thing . . . if I *don't* try, I'll never forgive myself. But even if *I* can't gain custody, then I'm putting the full force of Wayne Enterprises behind an effort to ensure that he's never returned to the Juvenile Detention Center!" Wayne gave Alfred a rare smile. "What do you think, Alfred? Are you willing to become a nanny at *your* age?"

Alfred smiled in turn.

"I'm already a nanny, sir," he replied. "I have *you* to look after, remember?" Without waiting for a response, Alfred left his employer to his dinner and silently retired for the night.

****
When the boys returned to their hangout, they found an extremely upset Kat sitting alone in the kitchen. McEwan rushed to her side.

"Where's the kid? Kat, where's Dick? What happened?" Kat threw her arms around McEwan's neck, unable to reply. She felt so ashamed; she'd let them all down.

"They took him . . . we were on our way back, when these two men stopped us. We fought them off, but they . . . they . . ." At this moment, they heard a noise from the front entranceway.

"Hey, anybody home?" The crowd in the kitchen froze in place, exchanging startled glances. Dick! As one they all rushed to the front.

"Acrobat!" McEwan held his good arm out in welcome.

"Fingers!" Dick rushed happily relieved into his friend's arms. He hugged McEwan completely unselfconsciously and squeezed his sore ribs a little too enthusiastically. McEwan withstood the sharp pain stoically. Kat rushed in and hugged Dick to her. She was openly weeping in relief.

"Oh, Dick, I was so worried! When Mikey took off after you . . . I lost track of you! What happened? Oh, why did you run away from me?" Dick struggled against the fierceness of her hold.

"Hey, I'm okay! I got away from him . . . no sweat." They all looked at him with obvious questions in their eyes. Dick shrugged. "I led him to the rooftops, then gave him the slip. Hey, heights are my friends . . . I learned to *walk* on the high wire! Dad used to say I was too young to have any fear and too dumb to know what it was."

He grinned, then dropped his eyes.

"I guess I know what fear is now." He looked up at McEwan. "I don't like how it feels, but I'm not gonna let it stop me. You've helped me, Fingers . . . all of you have. I owe you more than I'll ever be able to repay, but I can't stay here any longer. I only came back to let you know that I was all right. I'm returning to the circus. I belong there . . . it's my home."

McEwan nodded. "I agree, Acrobat; you belong . . . home . . . a kid belongs with his family. But there are some things you don't know. Come on, kid, we've got to talk."

McEwan led Dick into the back room where he'd spent the night. He indicated that Dick sit on the bed, then sat down next to him. He didn't know where to start, so he stalled instead.

"You hungry? Thirsty?" Dick shook his head no. McEwan nodded, then looked away. How to tell him? Sighing deeply, McEwan finally began to talk.

"Dick, you'n me . . . we're pals, right?" Dick nodded. McEwan's hesitation was beginning to bother him. "Kid, this guy Zucco--" at Dick's startled look, he hurriedly explained, "You talked in your sleep . . . mentioned his name." Dick dropped his eyes, ashamed that he'd tried to keep secrets from McEwan. "Kid, the Vigils, Blade, Napalm, Gunner, all of them . . . they all work for Zucco. He's bad news, kid . . . a real psycho, the kind who wears human molars for cuff links." He gave Dick a meaningful look. "Anyway, Zucco's responsible for firebombing several local businesses . . . You probably noticed a couple of gutted buildings when you were out walking today?"

"Uh-huh," Dick said, nodding.

"Zucco's work," McEwan explained. "Some were still occupied." Dick's clear blue eyes widened in shock. "See, he forces the business owners to *pay* him insurance money. Only this insurance money isn't for them to collect payment in case something bad happens to them; it's to *prevent* something bad from happening! In other words, if these people don't pay off whatever Zucco wants, he'll see to it that their businesses suffer some kind of an accident."

"That's what he told Pop Haly! That if he didn't pay off, someone was going to get hurt!" Dick yelled. "Zucco *did* kill my Mom and Dad! He threatened that something bad was going to happen, and Mom and Dad's lines broke! Dad *always* checked our rigging before a show. Zucco must've done something to the ropes *after* Dad had checked them!"

"Yeah, kid, it was Zucco all right . . . it's his M.O. all the way. Anyway, there's another thing you need to know." McEwan paused not sure how to continue. "The Haly Circus . . . kid, the circus left town a coupla days ago." At Dick's startled look, McEwan said placatingly. "Look, Jay Dee found out that Mister Haly submitted a formal adoption request about a week ago and was turned down flat. Child Welfare Services claimed that a circus was not a fit place for a minor child. We checked with some of our sources downtown and discovered that almost all of the money that the circus performers raised to file the petition was eaten up in pre-court costs. They didn't have the resources to fight a long custody battle."

Dick nodded, his head bowed. The tears that he'd managed to hold back these past few days began to spill over. He'd known that CWS didn't want Pop to adopt him, but somehow he'd always felt confident that Pop would win and take him home. How could Pop have *left* without him?

"Look, kid, if it's any comfort, I don't think that your Pop Haly has abandoned you. Remember that he has other responsibilities to the circus, and Zucco's still a very real threat. Maybe he's just moved them to a safe place before he can return for you."

Dick nodded not really believing it.

"Kid, there's one more thing you need to know. There's this guy around town . . . a masked dude who calls himself, Batman . . . have you ever heard of him?" Dick shook his head no. "Well, he's interested in you. Stopped me tonight . . . asked me where you were. I wouldn't tell him, 'cause he's like this straight arrow law and order guy, and I was afraid that he wanted to return you to the *proper* authorities. On the other hand, maybe he can help you. If anyone can track down the Haly Circus, it's Batman."

Dick shook his head.

"No, they don't want me. Nobody does. I guess I'm just gonna have to go back to the JDC." Dick sniffed forlornly feeling abandoned. He turned away from McEwan and lay facedown on the bed. He took Elinore in his arms and hugged her tightly.

"Hey, kid--" McEwan began.

"Please, leave me alone," Dick sobbed.

McEwan looked on helplessly. There was little he could do right now. It was probably best that Dick got some rest anyway. "Okay, kid. Get some sleep. But if you need me, I'll be right outside." Dick didn't reply.

Chapter Eight

"Mi-Hyun said that they'd torch their store tomorrow night if her father didn't come up with the money. Oh, Jamie, it's just too much! Zucco's after Dick and now he'll destroy the Chu's business. How can one man be so evil?"

"He's not evil, Kat . . . just misguided," Montana broke in facetiously. McEwan and Kat just looked at him. Montana swallowed his laughter and slinked off to bed. "No sense of humor. Sheesh!" The backroom was filled close to overflowing. The boys had set up enough army cots and sleeping bags for each of them, plus the bed that Dick currently occupied.

Dick listened quietly as Montana crawled into an empty cot. He heard a sleeping bag being zipped up accompanied by the muffled sounds of Montana settling in. This was soon followed by slow measured breathing as he fell asleep. As soon as Dick was sure that Montana had fallen asleep, he crawled slowly out of bed. He grabbed Elinore and studied her in the room's dark shadows for a few moments.

It would be hard to take her with him, but he couldn't bring himself to leave her. She'd been with him all of his life. She was all he had from before. No, he wouldn't abandon her. Setting his jaw in grim determination, Dick tucked her inside his jacket. It made for a snug fit, but it was doable.

Dick moved silently across the room. He paused at the door and listened carefully. Low voices. McEwan and Kat were talking sotto voce. Dick slowly opened the door and checked the hallway immediately on the other side. Empty. The voices were coming from the abandoned nightclub's kitchen area. Dick crouched low and moved in a bit closer.

"But what will you do with him, Jamie?" Kat asked. "He's only nine. He needs a home . . . parents . . . people to take care of him."

"I can take care of him," McEwan protested. "I've taken care of him so far, haven't I?"

"Oh, sure," Kat scoffed. "This is the perfect home for a little boy. An abandoned building in the middle of Crime Alley . . . a real high class neighborhood populated by hookers, drug addicts, and perverts . . . Yeah, Suburbia USA!"

"So what should I do, Kat?" McEwan asked. "Return him to the JDC? That would be *real* smart! Why don't I just hand deliver him to Zucco and cut out the middlemen?" McEwan sounded angry. "Don't you see? The little Acrobat's life is in danger every day that Zucco and the Vigils are allowed to run free. And nobody cares! The system is too busy giving orders and telling the kid's circus people that they're not *suitable* to take care of him. That it's too dangerous for a kid to live in a circus. Meanwhile, no one's paying any attention to the fact that they've locked him up in a cage with predators who are more dangerous than any lion ever found in a circus!" McEwan paused. "I *can't* abandon him, Kat. He's got no one left . . . no one except a stuffed elephant for crying out loud. The kid *needs* me, Kat. *I* need him."

Dick was sitting on his haunches on the other side of the wall separating the front room from the kitchen. He felt himself near a breaking point. If he waited any longer, he'd start crying again. No! He wouldn't cry . . . He was almost ten years old. He wasn't a baby anymore. He liked McEwan . . . a lot! . . . but as long as he stayed with him, McEwan, Kat, all the others were in danger. He *had* to leave.

Haly Circus might be gone, but he knew that their next location was the LexDome in Metropolis. Their first show was a scheduled charity benefit for the LexCorp Foundation. The Flying Graysons were supposed to be the opening act. Dick didn't know who would be in center ring now, but the show must go on. Dick reflected on how he felt about it. Intellectually he accepted it . . . that's show biz after all. But he knew that in his heart, he'd never be able to face going on without his Mom and Dad. After all, they had been The Flying Graysons--a family act. At the moment, he didn't believe that he'd ever be able to go on as a solo.

Maybe Pop Haly would let him stay on as a roustabout, he thought hopefully. He shook his head sadly. No, to return to Haly Circus would only place them *all* in peril. No matter where he went or with whom he stayed, as long as Zucco was after him (he recalled McEwan's explanation about the gutted-out buildings), anyone who gave him shelter was in mortal danger.

The best thing for everyone involved would be for Dick Grayson to simply disappear. As Dick began to move stealthily to the entrance, the voices from the kitchen stopped him.

"Jamie, I know how you feel, but Dick isn't Bobby. No matter what you do, you'll never bring Bobby back. You're not being fair to Dick, Jamie. Your guilt over Bobby's death is only hurting Dick's chances of ever finding a decent home!"

"That's not true, Kat!" McEwan replied in anger. "You *don't* understand. You couldn't! Your family doesn't live in a neighborhood that resembles Beirut . . . a war zone! None of your family has ever faced anything more frightening than a ruined dinner party! When those gang members *accidentally* killed Bobby, I discovered that Zucco was behind most of the gang activity in my neighborhood. I swore then that I'd do everything in my power to stop him. If stopping him means helping the little Acrobat, then that's the way it is! That kid's a direct line to the Vigils, and from them, Zucco!"

Dick swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. So that was it. He was just a means to an end. McEwan was just using him. Well, he'd show him . . . he'd show them all. He didn't need anybody. He could take care of himself. Hadn't he proven it time and again that he could hold his own?

"I'm outta here!" Dick whispered fiercely.

Unknown to Dick, as he left the abandoned nightclub, Kat and McEwan kept on talking.

"Jamie, if I thought for a minute that what you just said was true, I would've taken Dick and left long ago. You're not using that boy to get back at Zucco. You're helping him because that's the kind of person you are. You're always helping people in trouble. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were some kind of vigilante do-gooder. But I don't think you have the butt for spandex tights." She added the last part with a smile.

"Oh yeah? Says who?" McEwan replied with a suggestive smile. "Wanna test out your theory?" At her answering smile, he took her hand and pulled her to him. "This isn't exactly the Gotham Hilton, but I just happen to have a sleeping bag for two."

"Hmm-mm. 'Just happen,' huh?" Kat said. Without another word, McEwan kissed her fiercely. Not yet seventeen, their relationship had crossed the line months ago. They were always careful, but even so the newness of the experience still hadn't worn off. McEwan turned from her and quietly crossed over to the back room to retrieve the sleeping bag.

On impulse, he walked over to the lone twin bed to check on Dick. McEwan's heart stopped. The kid was gone! He threw the sleeping bag on the bed and rushed out of the room.

"He's gone! The kid's gone!" McEwan's voice was on the edge of panic. "I'm going out to search for him. If I'm not back in thirty minutes wake the others." He faced Kat, his eyes agonized. "What if he heard us? What if he heard what I said about--?" He couldn't finish. Not waiting for a reply he quickly left.

****

"Good morning, Mister Wayne. Everyone's already waiting for you."

"Thank you, Maggie. Hey, is that a new hairstyle? Looks good!" Wayne smiled pleasantly at his executive secretary. Maggie's heart fluttered for the umpteenth time.

"Down girl," she muttered as Wayne stepped into the executive conference room. "Bruce Wayne is *not* looking for love in his own backyard! Or in his front office for that matter," she added.

The atmosphere in the conference room became electrified as soon as the head of the largest corporation on the East Coast walked in. Lucius Fox grinned to himself. The secret behind Bruce Wayne's success was that everyone saw him differently. The men and women sitting around the conference table saw him as an enigma, a brilliant financier and futurist whose ability to read the market and anticipate future trends kept Wayne Enterprises on the forefront of business and the cutting edge of technology.

Fox saw him as a loyal friend and employer. There were those who saw Wayne as "that zany zillionaire," as a certain Gotham gossip columnist had once referred to him, but Fox knew better. Wayne had a mind as sharp as a surgeon's scalpel, and as brilliant as the brightest nebula in the sky. In short, if Wayne was believed to be a careless playboy, it was because it suited him. There were many a business rival who'd underestimated the "Boy Billionaire" and had ended up the loser.

"Gentlemen, ladies, good morning," Wayne greeted. Fox stood and offered his hand. Wayne shook it warmly. "Lucius, thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice."

He placed his briefcase at the head of the conference table, but instead of taking his seat immediately as Fox had expected, Wayne hesitated. He looked at the assembled group. In addition to Fox, his right hand man, two men and two women, la creme de la creme of Wayne Enterprise's corporate lawyers, looked back at him. Finally, he took his seat.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I called you here today for a personal problem . . . by personal I mean, something that affects *me* personally . . . not Wayne Enterprises." He paused to allow it to sink in. He saw several looks flash across the faces of his lawyers and almost smiled. Their looks showed that whatever they thought he was going to talk about, it was something that his mother would have highly disapproved of. Well, sorry to disappoint them, he thought.

"Two weeks ago, I attended the charity circus benefit given by Haly Circus. While there, I witnessed a heinous crime as it was being committed . . . the murder of John and Mary Grayson, the circus aerialists. The Flying Graysons left a son . . . you might remember him from the news programs . . . a nine-year-old boy and a brilliant aerialist in his own right. In fact, he'd just wowed the crowd with his quadruple *Death Drop* spin prior to his parents' fatal plunge."

At their nods, Wayne continued.

"What you may *not* be aware of is that the boy was not allowed to remain in the custody of the circus owner, Mister Harrison H. Haly, AKA Pop Haly, who also happens to be the boy's godfather . . . nor was he placed in a foster home. Richard John Grayson, a boy of nine, a boy who'd just witnessed the murder of both of his parents, was remanded to the custody of Child Welfare Services and placed in the Juvenile Detention Center, until I understand, a suitable foster home could be found."

The hardened lawyers gasped in shock. "Outrageous!" "How awful!" "How could something like this happen?"

Wayne looked at Fox. Fox nodded and stood. "Ladies and gentlemen, please . . . may we return to the topic at hand?" The lawyers quieted, although Wayne noted that one of them looked particularly upset. "There's a little more. Mister Wayne has called us here today to draw up a petition in Family Court requesting that custody of Richard Grayson be granted to him." The news was greeted by shocked silence. You can hear the conference room clock ticking, Wayne thought sardonically.

"But, Mister Wayne," Jayne Dover sounded apologetic. "Sir, you're unmarried . . . Family Court will never award custody of a minor child to a bachelor."

"Never say never, Jayne," interrupted Bob Stevenson. "There is precedent here. Especially, if Mister Wayne offers to legally adopt the boy, *and* make him his heir?" Stevenson looked towards Wayne for confirmation. At Wayne's nod, he continued, "What judge in his or her right mind would deny *that* kind of opportunity for an orphaned child?"

John Hawkins jumped in. "The media circus alone would guarantee a legal victory--"

"NO!" Wayne's raised voice startled them all into silence. "I will *not* turn this boy's tragedy into a media event! I called you in because you've proven in the past to be the best! I want the best legal defense to help me adopt this boy; but if the court decides against me, then I want the best possible defense to help place this boy in a loving home. I *don't* want to see him sent back to the JDC!"

"Excuse me, Mister Wayne." Wayne turned to Mary Margaret Scott who'd spoken for the first time. She was an older woman, who'd graduated from law school summa cum laude at the age of forty-five. She'd joined the Wayne Enterprises' legal staff six years ago, and had proven her worth time and again. She'd also been the one who'd earlier looked deeply affected by the boy's predicament. "I thought I'd heard in the news that the boy had run away from the JDC. Has he been returned?" Wayne shook his head.

"No, currently the boy's whereabouts are unknown. But that's neither here nor there, Mary Margaret. I want the petition done in absentia if necessary. I'd like the boy to see that there's someone out there who cares about his health and welfare; someone who wants only the best for him."

"I understand, sir . . . and may I add that I'd be proud to lend whatever assistance is necessary. You see, Mister Wayne . . . *I* was adopted as a child. CWS had tagged *me* as unadoptable. I was the child of an unmarried welfare mother hooked on heroin . . . father unknown . . . I was believed to have suffered brain damage from my mother's addiction." She paused, then smiled. "My adoptive Mom said that the moment she laid eyes on me, she couldn't stop thinking of me. She and Dad had gone to the orphanage to adopt a baby, and instead they left with me. I was five. I'd been hiding underneath the stairs all day. I can't remember why . . . I just remember being scared for some reason and wishing that my new Mommy and Daddy would hurry up and come get me. They did." She smiled, her eyes tearing up. "Whatever help you need, Mister Wayne, you've got it."

"Thank you, Mary Margaret," Wayne said quietly. The rest of his staff looked around uncomfortably.

"Mister Wayne," Hawkins spoke up. "I apologize for my earlier crack about a media circus. Sir, if there's any way I can help you get custody of that little lost boy, I will." The rest of the corporate lawyers murmured their support. Wayne nodded and thanked them all.

It was a subdued group of fast-tracked, high-priced lawyers who filed out of the executive conference room.

"Lucius, can you wait a moment?" Wayne's quiet voice stopped Fox before he left. Fox nodded and returned to his seat. Wayne poured himself a glass of orange juice and raised his eyebrow at Fox.

"No thank you, Bruce." Wayne nodded then gulped down the contents in a single swallow.

"Twenty years ago, Lucius, my parents were murdered in front of me. I've never forgotten. It's a pain I live with every day, a loss I've never been able to put aside." Wayne spoke quietly, staring at the empty glass. In his mind, he heard his mother's laughter as they left the Monarch Movie Theater. He felt his father's warm hand on his shoulder. He suddenly saw the gun flash . . . his mother's pearls falling in slow motion onto the pavement below. His mother's screams rang in his mind. It was an old black and white 8-millimeter tape on continuous replay.

His mother's screams were replaced by the Flying Graysons' terrified cries as they plunged down to center ring. Their little boy's frightened *NO!* echoed over and over. Wayne ran a hand surreptitiously across his eyes.

"His face haunts my dreams, Lucius. Each night before I finally fall asleep, I see him kneeling there in the spotlight between his parents. I see him . . . I see myself." Wayne looked up at Fox. "I can't let him down, Lucius. I can't let this 'little lost boy' believe that there's no hope . . . that there's no one left who cares what happens to him."

"Bruce, whatever I can do . . . " Wayne nodded and stood. He walked over to the great picture window that overlooked the Gotham City skyline.

"Thanks, Lucius. I want this matter handled quickly and efficiently . . . all *I's* dotted and *T's* crossed . . .all *whereas's* and *wherefore's* in the appropriate places. You know the drill . . . I want Jason Bard Private Investigations brought in on this. Tell Bard I want him to personally find out if the boy has any living relatives that the authorities might have missed. I want everything humanly possible done to help this boy, Lucius . . . and then I want the *im*possible . . . Give me a complete report first thing tomorrow . . . Oh, and have Maggie check on the status of the remains."

Wayne dropped his voice.

"It's been almost two weeks now, and I understand that there hasn't even been a funeral yet."

Fox nodded and stood. As he opened the door, Wayne's quiet voice stopped him.

"And Lucius, I owe you." Wayne heard the door close quietly behind him. He stood looking out on the panoramic view. Somewhere out there was a small, frightened boy. "I know how you feel, son . . . your world has come to end . . . and it seems that no one cares. I swear on my parents' graves that I'll do everything possible to show you that there *is* someone who cares . . . someone who wants to help. Stop running, son; let me come to you tonight . . . let me bring you home."

Wayne didn't realize how prophetic his statement was.

****

The lengthening shadows told Kat that it would soon be sunset. They'd been searching for almost fifteen hours now, and there was still no sign of Dick. She looked over at Jamie. He'd been too distracted to drive, so she'd forced him to sit on the passenger seat. He looked worn out. The others had fanned out and were combing the streets on foot. She and Jamie must have questioned over a hundred people. No one had seen one small, blue-eyed, dark haired boy. Or, at least, no one claimed to have seen him.

Kat pulled over to the curb.

"What are you doing?" McEwan asked. "We haven't searched this neighborhood yet!"

"Yes, we have! Oh, Jamie, we've searched it twice already. And the next street over, and all the streets after that!"

"Then we'll search it, again, dammit!" McEwan yelled. "He's gotta *be* someplace. A kid can't just disappear!" Kat burst into tears. The pressure had become too much. The worry, coupled with the guilt that somehow it was her fault, finally took its toll.

"It's all *my* fault!" She yelled. "Go on, say it! You've been thinking it all day long! If I hadn't pushed you, last night . . . if I hadn't made you say those awful things, he might not have run away . . . it's all my fault." Kat began crying in loud brokenhearted sobs. McEwan couldn't believe it. He'd been kicking himself all day for Dick's disappearance; apparently he'd been so busy blaming himself that he hadn't noticed the pain that Kat was going through at the same time.

"Hey, Kat, don't . . . please don't cry. Of course it isn't your fault. If anyone's to blame it's me. I'm the one with the big mouth remember? I'm sorry I yelled at you . . . I'm just scared. Zucco's people . . . the Vigils . . . those men you mentioned earlier . . . any one of them could've bagged him . . . even . . . " No! McEwan wouldn't say it; he wouldn't even think it! The Acrobat was all right . . . he was just lost, but he was all right. I have to believe that, McEwan thought fiercely. I have to believe that Dick's still alive.

"Jamie, he's so completely alone now," Kat sobbed. "What are we going to do? We need help . . . we can't do this alone! Please, Jamie, we need to go for help! For Dick's sake!" McEwan nodded. *Going for help* as Kat put it, meant going to the police, which meant going back to the JDC.

"Let's go," McEwan said.

Chapter Nine

As they rounded the corner to their abandoned nightclub, McEwan saw Ghoul frantically waving them down.

"Kat! Pull over!" Before Kat had fully parked the van McEwan jumped out. He ran towards Ghoul. "What is it, Ghoul? Did you find the kid?" Ghoul shook his head.

"No, Fingers," he said agitated. "I didn't find the little Acrobat, but I found this!" Ghoul held up the mud-splattered and tattered body of Elinore.

"Elinore! Where'd you find her?" McEwan asked excitedly. "Where?"

"A back alley about ten blocks south of here, on Claremont Avenue and Abbey Road."

"Show us! Quick! In the van!" McEwan said anxiously. The three piled back into the van and took off. McEwan was driving now. He quickly pulled an illegal U-turn, narrowly missed two cars, and took off tires squealing.

"Turn here," Ghoul said several minutes later. McEwan instantly banged a left, then came to a screeching halt. All three jumped out of the van and Ghoul hurried over to where he'd found Elinore. He pointed to a spot behind a dumpster. "Right here, Fingers," he said. "This is where I found the little Acrobat's stuffed elephant."

"I don't understand," Kat said. "Why would Elinore be behind a dumpster in an alley?"

"That's a good question." All three youngsters spun around, startled by the menacing voice. "Where's the boy, Fingers? You said you had him under your protection." Kat gasped in fear.

"Who *are* you?" She asked, terrified. McEwan sighed and shrugged his shoulders. He'd already been beaten too often in too short a time for it to bother him any more. It looked like another beating was on its way.

"Kat . . . Ghoul . . . meet the Batman!" McEwan said by way of introductions. "Batman, these are my friends, Kat and Ghoul." Kat and Ghoul nodded in greeting. Ghoul smiled and moved as if to shake hands, but McEwan stopped him. "Batman doesn't do handshakes."

"Where's the boy, Fingers?" Batman repeated. He looked like the angel of death as he moved towards them. McEwan swallowed, shrugged, and shook his head all at once.

"He ran away some time last night. We've been looking for him ever since. We've searched every inch of the neighborhood and--" Batman slammed him against the dumpster. "Oww-ww! What's that for?" McEwan asked slightly dazed. He felt his knees giving way and would've collapsed in a heap, except that Batman was holding him by the collar. McEwan's felt his feet being literally lifted off the ground.

"What happened, Fingers? Why did the boy run away? And Fingers, this better be good!"

McEwan swallowed. His gave Batman a stricken look, then turned away unable to face him. He shrugged helplessly and shook his head.

"My fault, I guess . . . 'cause I'm such a jerk . . . " Batman's grip tightened around his collar. He looked like he was about to slam McEwan again when Kat grabbed his arm.

"Stop it! Stop it! What are you doing? Dick ran away . . . it wasn't anyone's fault . . . or maybe it was all our fault! But Jamie's done everything possible to help him from the start! You can't blame him . . . you should be helping us find Dick! Not taking out your anger on Jamie. Why don't you slam us *all* around? Why don't you slam that bimbo Cunningham for placing Dick in the JDC instead of in a foster home?"

Batman held on to McEwan a few moments longer and then abruptly released him. Caught off guard, McEwan immediately crumpled where he'd been dropped. Kat crouched next to him.

"I'm all right, Kat. Just gimme a hand up, okay?" Kat nodded and between she and Ghoul, they had McEwan on his feet shortly. McEwan leaned on Ghoul for support. He felt like one big bruise. There were damage reports coming in from all quadrants: ribs, jaw, head, limbs. <Captain, I dinnae know how much longer I can hold her!> McEwan shook his head. Concentrate on what Batman's saying, he admonished himself.

"You say he ran away last night," Batman said. "About what time did you first notice him missing?"

"Around four a.m.," McEwan replied instantly. "I ran out as soon as I discovered him gone and I've been looking ever since."

"After Jamie left, I waited about thirty minutes, then woke the others and we all joined the search. I took the van, found Jamie, and he and I continued to search together," Kat said.

"Me and the other guys spread out through the neighborhood and looked on foot. We stopped people on the street and questioned them. No one reported having seen a little boy who fit the Acrobat's description," Ghoul added.

"Jamie and I had just decided that it was time to report it to the authorities when Ghoul here flagged us down," Kat added.

"Yeah, I found Elinore here behind this dumpster," Ghoul explained, "so I hurried back to the nightclub to report it to Fingers."

"Elinore?" Batman asked. McEwan held out the stuffed elephant. Batman took it. He studied it carefully, noting the stains, tears, missing left button eye, and escaping stuffing.

"It's the kid's . . . He's real attached to her. She's all he has left." McEwan felt tears begin to sting the backs of his eyes. "He's even more alone now, Kat . . . What'll he do without her?" McEwan finally broke down. Kat took him and held him in her arms.

"We'll find him, Jamie . . . I promise. Won't we, Batman? . . . Batman?" They all turned to where the Batman had been standing not a second ago. He was gone. Kat felt a cold fist clutch her heart. She hadn't known he was metahuman. "He's disappeared," she whispered. McEwan smiled . . . the Bat does it again.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go to the nearest precinct."

"No." They all spun around, again startled out of a year's growth. "I need you on the streets . . . in case the boy returns--" Kat angrily interrupted.

"He has a name, you know!" She said sharply. "His name's Richard . . . but he goes by Dick. That's what his parents called him . . . Dick! So why don't you big bad men stop calling him by these non-names you've all made up? He's *not* the Acrobat, the kid, or the boy! He's Dick . . . and as soon as you start to realize that he's a *person*, the sooner that maybe we'll know how to find him!" They all stared at her in mute shock. Kat felt her momentary anger dissolve quickly. McEwan smiled and held her to him.

"We'll do everything necessary to find . . . Dick . . . Batman," McEwan began. "Just tell us what to do." Batman nodded.

"First tell me everything else you know," Batman ordered.

"Like I said earlier, Zucco's placed a contract on the ki--" McEwan looked guiltily at Kat, "--on Dick's life. The Vigils and the rest of Zucco's goons are out looking for him." Batman nodded.

"Is there anything else?" McEwan began to shake his head, but Kat interrupted.

"Yes, Jamie. Remember those two creeps who tried to kidnap him earlier?" Kat turned to Batman to explain. She told him about the attack earlier yesterday by Mikey and Tommy.

"Mikey and Tommy?" Batman asked. "Shaved heads? Attacking cobras centered on their skulls? Nouveau sleaze look?" Kat nodded. "Michael and Thomas Gunther, two sexual deviants. Tommy has two priors for rape, and Mikey . . . Mikey is a known . . . pedophile." Kat gasped.

"Oh my God!" she cried.

"They were both released on parole from Blackgate a few weeks ago. Apparently, they were considered rehabilitated and therefore paroled for good behavior." Batman looked enraged. "Fingers, I want you and your friends to comb the streets . . . concentrate on Zucco and the Vigils. I'm going to track down Mikey and Tommy." Before McEwan could reply, Batman disappeared.

*****

Alfred cleared his throat politely.

"Your dinner, sir," he said, placing the covered tray on the table behind Batman. To Alfred's dismay, Batman didn't acknowledge the announcement. Alfred sighed and began climbing the stairs that led back to the Manor.

"Thanks, Alfred," a quiet voice said behind him. Alfred paused in mid-step and smiled. Not turning around, he murmured, "You're most welcome, young man," and kept climbing.

Batman paused a moment from his scrutiny of the electron microscope to take a bite from his dinner. Delicious as usual, but he barely noticed. There! What was that on the elephant's outer cloth covering? Batman quickly adjusted the powerful instrument to a higher magnification. Not satisfied, he pushed a few more buttons and tied it into the Batcave's Cray Supercomputer. As he waited for the Cray to run an additional spectrum analysis, he took another bite of his dinner.

While he ate, Batman again ran over in his mind the site where Elinore had been found . . .

****

After the kids had left, he'd returned to the scene and inspected it closely. No footprints . . . no scuff marks . . . no disturbance of any kind. If the boy . . . if Dick, he silently amended, had been taken, it hadn't been from here. Batman looked up. He fired a grappling hook. Seconds later, he was on the roof of a long-abandoned pawnshop.

Batman reached up and put on his night vision goggles, the latest equipment in his crime-fighting arsenal. More advanced than the old military grade starlight scopes, the NVGs literally turned night into day. Batman flipped the on-switch and the night turned green. As he studied the area immediately above the spot where Ghoul had found Elinore, Batman adjusted the NVG's magnification.

There! Definite scuff marks where the pebbles that littered the roof had been displaced. Batman reached up and touched another button on his NVGs. The miniature imaging digital camera prototype that the nascent WayneTech division of Wayne Enterprises had designed began taking NASA-quality photos . . .

****

Batman again studied the photos while he waited on the spectrum analysis to be completed. The scuff marks showed clear signs of a struggle. The boy . . . Dick . . . hadn't gone without a fight. He noted the dark spots that he'd already determined were bloodstains. But whose? he'd wondered. It was O-positive, same type as Dick and the Gunthers. DNA analysis quickly eliminated it as the Gunthers'. It was Dick's. In sudden fury Batman slammed his fist on the table, rattling his dishes and knocking over his glass of Perrier.

"God, don't let me be too late," he whispered.

"You aren't, sir," Alfred said above him, clearing the dinner dishes. "You must have faith." Batman slowly looked up, and nodded imperceptibly.

At this moment, the Cray indicated completion of its analysis. Batman projected the findings to the wall screen and studied his findings. There was an unusual chemical compound on the cloth that could only be found in a one-quarter mile radius of Gotham City, over by an abandoned housing development located on the grounds of the old Thorne Chemical Plant. Apparently, there had been so much ground leakage from the factory that the area was saturated with an abundance of poisonous chemicals too dangerous for humans, or any other lifeform.

The Environmental Protection Agency declared the grounds an environmental disaster area and ordered it closed off over five years ago. Rupert Thorne had been indicted on Federal charges for toxic waste dumping. The ongoing Federal EPA Superfund for toxic waste disposal was supposed to have cleaned up the mess, but 175 million dollars later, the area was still polluted. Today it was considered a dead zone . . . the chemical equivalent of a Chernobyl nuclear disaster! If the Gunthers were holding Dick there, they were *all* in danger!

Batman immediately started for the Batmobile.

"Good luck, sir," Alfred said.

"Thanks, Alfred." Alfred stood there long after the roar of the Batmobile's powerful engines died out.

"Bring young Master Richard home, sir."

****

"Okay, guys, this could be real dangerous . . . so, if you want to back out now, do it. Staying means any one of us could wind up dead . . . like Lucky." McEwan reflected on Lucca's nickname. In the end, his luck had run out. "Ghoul, you in?"

Ghoul looked away, ashamed. As always when anything dangerous came up, his first instinct was to run and hide. But he had to help the little Acrobat. He'd carried him twice now. He'd never had a little brother and taking care of Dick had been real special. He was such a great little guy.

"Fingers . . . I--" Ghoul hesitated. McEwan dropped his eyes disappointed, but nodded his head in understanding.

"That's okay, Ghoul. I understand. Look, would you mind continuing to look for him? I mean, avoid the Vigils and Zucco's zoot suits, but keep an eye out for Dick?" Ghoul nodded his head. The single overhead bulb cast an almost reverent halo around his blond head. His handsome features made him look like a recruiting poster for the Avengers. Just give him a red, white, and blue costume and shield, McEwan thought. The Return of Captain America!

Montana spoke up.

"When do we leave? The sooner we do this, the sooner we get Dick back!" McEwan smiled gratefully. Count on Montana to want to get into a fight.

"So, where do we start?" Jay Dee asked. "We've been searching all day and no sign of the kid--" He caught Kat's look. "--uh, I mean, no sign of Dick. So--?"

"I think Kat knows where to start, don't you, Kat?" McEwan asked. Kat looked confused and shook her head. "You said it yourself . . . Blade threatened the Chu's that he'd torch their drugstore if they didn't pony up the money. It's still early . . . there's a good chance that the Vigils haven't made their scheduled appearance yet." He looked at the others who were nodding in agreement. "Let's go!"

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