NOTES: This is my first attempt at multiple part story. Many many thanks
to Syl for her beta-reading and encouragement. If you catch some weird
continuity errors, PLEASE tell me... keeping it straight through so many
'chapters' is very hard! :)

To Catch A Killer
by Terri Hayes (gabi@gies.com)

***

Chapter 1


Batman melted out of the shadows behind Jim Gordon, his dark voice
coming out of nowhere. "What have you got?"

Jim Gordon was too used to Batman's arrivals to jump, but the
young officer operating the spotlight wasn't. He gasped, swinging toward
the sound of the voice in surprise. With a single hand motion from Jim,
the startled officer turned off the BatSignal spotlight, which was housed
on the roof of Police headquarters in downtown Gotham City.

"Something that might catch your interest. Three days ago,
Donovan Sellers was released from prison in upstate New York."

Without alerting the Commissioner or the officer at the spotlight,
two additional sets of feet came to rest on the roof, cloaked by darkness.
Nightwing and Robin listened wordlessly to the briefing.

"Donovan Sellers was the man who attempted to assassinate Bruce
Wayne eleven years ago." Batman's voice held no question, which didn't
surprise the Commissioner of Police much. Nothing escaped the Batman's
notice. The two hidden listeners glanced at one another in surprise,
though. Eleven years ago was just before Dick became the first Robin. 
Neither of them had ever heard the name Sellers before.

"That's right. His wife was fired from Wayne Enterprises for 
embezzlement and then, as the police arrived to arrest her, she killed 
both of her children and herself. Sellers vowed vengeance, blaming their 
deaths on Wayne."

"Have you notified him? He's a wealthy man, I'm sure he can have
bodyguards hired," Batman said with a faintly wry tone to his voice.

Robin couldn't help the smirk that crossed his face, clapping his
hand across his mouth to keep the snickers from escaping. Nightwing
simply shook his head, vaguely amused though he was concerned at what he
was hearing.

Jim sighed. "No, I haven't contacted Wayne yet. I've left a
message with his butler, but he's not at home this evening. I'll continue
to update him on the situation as more information becomes available. I've
involved you because of this --" Jim held out a plain manila file.

Batman reached for the folder, flipping it open and pulling a
small light from his utility belt to peruse it. Nightwing leaned forward
to try and get a better view, but he was too far away to see the
photograph inside the folder. Batman was quiet a long moment.
"Interesting. I'll look into it."

Jim nodded, "I thought that might catch your eye." He reached for
the folder and turned back toward the building. "Watch your back, Batman."

It was a long-established scenario. By the time he looked back 
toward the edge of the roof, the Dark Knight was already gone. Gesturing 
for the young officer at the spotlight to precede him into the building, 
Jim looked up into the night sky with a pensive expression.

Shaking his head, he went inside headquarters to start work on the
case, only catching the brief flash of a yellow cape out of the corner of
his eye. His voice was soft as he murmured, "And you watch his back, too,
kid." 

***

Nightwing and Robin caught up with Batman halfway across town,
flanking him as he swung between buildings. Landing on sure feet atop a
tenement near the waterfront, all three kept to the shadows. Batman
acknowledged their presence at the briefing. "I didn't expect to see
you here, Nightwing."

Nightwing chuckled softly. "Babs understands." Although their
engagement was only hours old, both Dick and Barbara were old hands at
having private time interrupted by their vigilante work. She had sent him
off with a twinkle of rueful amusement in her eyes. 

Tilting his head in a quizzical fashion, Nightwing got back to the
subject at hand. "What was inside the file?"

Batman's gaze seemed to be on the Gotham skyline. "A photograph
of a man named Marc Collins. One of the best known hit-men in the world. 
He was spotted by an off-duty FBI agent getting on the train from New York
to Gotham. At the end of the run, he was not one of the passengers
disembarking."

Robin blinked, "Hit man? You mean there's a contract on Bruce
Wayne?"

Batman nodded. "Highly probable. Collins has a reputation for
never missing a target and, just before Collins was spotted heading for
Gotham, a large sum of money disappeared from Donovan Sellers' account."

A grimace passed over Nightwing's face, "Oh terrific. Not that we
can't handle it, but it's a bit outside our norm. Assassins targeting
one of our own public personas could get tricky."

Batman turned to face his two proteges. "There is no 'we.' I'll
handle it myself."

The younger vigilantes shook their heads negatively, in unison.

"Forget about it. We're here for the long haul." Nightwing's 
refusal carried the authority of a man full-grown and not about to be told 
what to do.

Robin's protest was equally emphatic. "Especially if this guy
will be tracking Bruce Wayne's activities! Batman might not even be able
to make an appearance."

Batman nodded again. "It will be messy. Very messy before it's
over. Which is why you're both off the case. I'll handle it." His tone
brooked no argument from either of the young men.

Exchanging glances, Nightwing and Robin seemed to carry on an
entire conversation with their eyes in only seconds. Both young men
simply looked at Batman without a word.

Eyeing each of them, Batman's stern countenance softened very
slightly. These two young men were the world to him, though he couldn't
show it often or easily. He would not be the cause of them being caught
in the crossfire. 

"I expect you to respect my wishes and stay out of the situation." 
Batman fired off his jump line and was gone as soon as the autocratic
words were out of his mouth, apparently expecting his orders to be 
followed.

Nightwing murmured to Robin, "Take off... I'll be right behind you
both." Nodding in agreement, Robin fired off his own grappling hook,
taking to the sky to follow his mentor.

Standing silently on the rooftop, watching the lights of Gotham
City below, Nightwing considered his options. He realized that the reason
Bruce was being so adamant was that he didn't want Dick or Tim hurt, but
that just wasn't going to cut it. Neither Dick nor Tim was about to let
him put his life on the line just to keep them out of the line of fire.

"Sorry, Batman... but you're not washing your hands of us that
easily." His hand touched his comlink, sending a signal to the one person
who could find the information he and Robin would need if they were going
to keep up with the Dark Knight's investigation.

"Oracle here... what's up, Nightwing?"

He couldn't help the faint smile that quirked the corner of his
mouth. "Heya, gorgeous. Need a favor...."


***

Chapter 2


Barbara stared at her computer, absolutely appalled. The
BatCave's records were always open to her, and she was looking at one of
the files now. Through her headset, she asked, "Are you *sure* this is
all correct? One person simply can't be this busy!"

"It's correct, Miss Barbara," Alfred responded grimly. "Master
Bruce's information is *quite* extensive, as you well know. Collins was
in British Intel for a while before he turned to mercenary work. That bit
of information is not in Master Bruce's computer records, as you can see,
but I cashed in a favor with an old friend to verify it. It may give you
some additional leads."

Something in Alfred's tone was disturbing Barbara, but she
couldn't figure out quite what. "Is there anything else you know that
might hasten the investigation, Alfred? Dick and Tim are incredibly
worried about Bruce's reaction tonight, and I can't say I blame them. If
this guy is half as good as some of this indicates, even Batman may be a
little out of his league."

"Yes, miss... that is, unfortunately, very possible. I'm afraid
there's nothing more I can tell you. Do keep me informed, however, and
meanwhile I shall endeavor to keep Master Bruce's schedule chaotic enough
to hinder them."

Acknowledging his words, Barbara disconnected from the call.
Frowning at the screen, she went back over Alfred's answer. "There's more
that you're not telling, Alfred. But I have a feeling you've given me the
clues I need to figure it out. Now... what piece of this puzzle am I
missing? You're not telling me outright probably because you've 
determined that it's not your place. Collins in British Intel, though. 
Where did he go from there, and why?"

Focusing intently on her mission, Barbara began her work in
earnest. She knew that Alfred held his duty to Bruce above everything
else, but she also knew the butler had a tendency of working around
whatever orders had been given him if the situation warranted. She'd have
to decode the clues he'd given her, and she only prayed that she had the
time.

***

Several hours (and four muggings, two bank robbery attempts and an
alleyway brawl) later, Robin and Nightwing sat together on a rooftop
discussing the night's events. In a worried whisper, Robin asked
Nightwing, "We're not letting him do this alone, right?"

Nightwing's response was immediate. "Absolutely not. You knew
that before you even left the roof on patrol tonight." His voice became
thoughtful. "There's something he's not telling us. I don't know what it
is. Oracle's researching the case information. I dropped her a request
earlier. It's usual for him to want to do things himself, but...
something in the way he told us to stay out of it is niggling at me."

Robin nodded. "Good thing it was a quiet night tonight. He was
distracted."

Nightwing's eyes rested on his younger counterpart, not overly 
surprised. "How could you tell?"

Robin looked up and said matter-of-factly, "He missed." He
shrugged. "He hardly ever misses with the Batarang, and that was an *easy*
shot."

Nightwing nodded. "That was the only indication I saw, too. 
Good eye, kid." He looked across the Gotham skyline, where dawn was just 
beginning to lighten the edge of the world with tints of grey instead of 
black. 

"Get some sleep. I'll let you know if I figure out what's going
on. In the meantime, stick as close as you can to him. Barbara has
probably alerted Alfred already. Collins won't make a move immediately. 
He'll have to trail Bruce and work out his schedule in order to find the 
best angle and position for an ambush. So we've got a couple days, at 
least."

Robin pushed himself to his feet. "See you around, then." He
grinned. "Looks like it's going to be a bit more often now, hmm?" Firing
off the jumpline, Robin took to the sky with the ease born of long
practice.

Nightwing watched the boy vanish into the shadows, shaking his
head in amusement. It always gave him a kick to see the younger Robin
take off. Sort of like watching an old videotape of himself at that age.
He threw himself off the other side of the roof without a line, letting
his body freefall halfway down the skyscraper. Flipping himself over, he
fired a line skyward to capture the edge of the building, letting the
slack play out. It carried him in a wide arc back towards 'home'.

***
In no time at all, Nighting was climbing silently through the
secret door that Barbara had installed back when she was Batgirl. 
Expecting to find her asleep, since she usually called it a night between
three and four o'clock in the morning when nothing serious was happening,
he was surprised to find her still at her computer. Quietly, he moved up
behind her to ask, "What's happening?"

Barbara's frown turned to a faint smile as she looked up from her
screens. "Hi there... is it that late already?" She glanced at the clock
in the corner of her screen and then slid her glasses off her nose to rub
her eyes. "Nothing's happening, I've just found some really strange leads 
on this Collins guy. Three hours worth of digging, and a tip from Alfred, 
and I *still* can't get a complete profile of this guy." She sounded tired
and a little frustrated.

Dick yanked his heavy gauntlets off as she talked and removed his
mask. He then settled his hands on the back of her neck to massage the
tendons there, listening attentively.

Barbara made a soft sound that might have been a groan of
pleasure. Silently absorbing the closeness of his touch, she continued.
"I finally came across one little footnote in a file that gave me the
first lead. Dick..." She slid her glasses back into place and turned to
look up. "If what I've been able to piece together so far tonight is
true, this Collins guy has been on the payroll of several small countries
as an assassin, and a couple of larger ones as well. Most notably, the US
and Japan. And he's got about three dozen aliases that Interpol is
certain of, and who knows how many that aren't accounted for."

Dick's hands rested on her shoulders, giving her his full
attention. Marc Collins was apparently a master of disguise. "That still
doesn't tell me what's got Bruce more uptight than normal with this one. 
It's not like it's the first time he's been threatened."

Barbara sighed and nodded. "I'm still digging on that one. But I
won't give up on it. Alfred's going to make sure to vary his routines
with Bruce until we can get this guy. The thing is... I double-checked on
the money missing from Sellers' accounts. It's completely untraceable,
even for *me* right now." Which only made her more curious. "If Collins
is as good as all this, why is he taking on a penny-ante job like Bruce
Wayne? All his other targets have been very high profile, who have also
had some incredible pull in the government. Bruce has pull, but in the
scheme of things, he's not got the kind of profile that Collins' other
victims have had."

Dick looked thoughtful. "If this is such a small-time job, maybe
there's something bigger going on. Maybe it's not a simple hit and
Collins is after something else. The threat to Bruce could be strictly
coincidental." He sighed. "I don't know. Alfred knows the drill in his
sleep, though. It's one of the reasons that he has the position he has.
It'll be fine. You know as well as I do that Collins will have to hold
off a couple of days just to try and get a handle on Bruce's movements
before he can strike. Those couple days may give us the time to find out
why he'd take a job like this."

Barbara nodded tiredly. "This is about all I can do tonight. I've
left a couple of search routines running to see what we can find on
Collins and his aliases. Are you ready to catch some sleep?" She looked
up at him, a faint smile quirking the corners of her mouth upward. "I
assumed you were staying since you didn't pop back by two o'clock to 
gather your things."

Leaning down to kiss her tenderly, Dick nodded. "I think I'll
stick around Gotham for a few days at least. Can you put up with me that
long?"

The soft response, "Did you have to ask?" simply made him laugh as
they got ready for bed and curled up together to sleep.

***

Chapter 3


Barbara opened her eyes early in the afternoon, disoriented to
realize that she'd slept past noon. That usually only happened when it
had been a rough night with Dinah working in another time zone. Though it
*had* been after dawn when she finally collapsed here, she thought
sleepily. Rolling over, she realized something else. Dick wasn't there.

Frowning slightly, she pulled herself out of bed and into her
wheelchair, making her way through the apartment. "Dick?"

Looking up from his concentrated scrutiny of a computer screen,
Dick's expression eased into a small smile. "Good afternoon, sleepyhead.
Would you like some coffee?"

Barbara shook her head 'no' and stretched out. "Anything new come 
through?"

Nodding, Dick pushed his chair away from the terminal so Barbara
could move into his place. While she scanned, he summarized.

"Marc Collins, alias Reed Baxter, alias Lucas Wheeler... among
about 20 other known aliases. This guy is like a ghost. What information
there is so far is only contradictory." He sighed.

Barbara responded mildly, "I was expecting that. But look at 
this." She pointed to the screen thoughtfully, "Fifteen years ago, he was
put in jail overseas."

Dick nodded. "The charges were later dropped due to lack of
evidence." Barbara was frowning at the terminal, and Dick started to get
the feeling that he was missing something. "What is it?"

"This doesn't look right. Let me do a little more digging on it."
Barbara pointed to the screen, "Here and here... see?"

Dick leaned forward to study the two notations in the file,
shaking his head. "What about it? It says that Interpol lost track of
him right after he was released for about 6 weeks, until he surfaced in
Switzerland."

Her fingers flying across the keyboard, Barbara's response was a
bit absent. "Yeah... but how could they lose track of him, when *this*
came from their own files?" Another notation popped up on the screen.
"That record says he was underground for 6 weeks... But *this* is a report
from the London-Gatwick airport. Look at the dates, Dick. They never
lost him." 

Dick studied the evidence with a frown. The March 15 notation 
in the file he'd been looking at stated that Marc Collins had been lost 
by Interpol on March 15 and the next entry had him surfacing in Geneva on 
May 3. The file Barbara pulled up was an airport security report on
one of Collins' aliases, showing that he'd cleared customs in London on 
March 17. This was not looking good at all. "Interpol usually isn't
that sloppy," he offered.

Barbara grimaced. "A photographic memory comes in nice, hmm? I
noticed that London file last night when I was looking for images of
Collins. How much would you like to bet he was on a job for someone
between March 15 and May 1 who had enough connections in Interpol to hide
it?" She paused. "Alfred said this guy used to be British Intel before
he was a mercenary. I'm beginning to think there's a *lot* more to this
than meets the eye."

Dick rubbed his forehead. "If we have entire countries, British
Intel and Interpol covering for this guy's movements, tracking down what's
got Bruce's tights in a twist is going to be difficult." He paused. "Not
to mention, it makes the question of why a bigtime hit man would take on a
smalltime vngeance hit even more interesting."

Barbara just looked at him and nodded, concern easily read in her
gaze. "Whatever is going on, I think Bruce has a lot more information
than he's going to share. So watch yourself out there... going in blind
can bite you in the butt."

***
Bruce stared at his computer screen silently. He was wearing
sweatpants and a T-shirt, and there was a cup of cold coffee sitting next
to him, forgotten as he worked.

Alfred tsk'd lightly from behind him. It was obvious to the
butler that Master Bruce had not even gone to bed when he came in last
night. It was now lunchtime, and he was determined that his charge would
at least eat. Setting down the tray with a sandwich and a glass of milk
on it, Alfred spoke in his stern-affectionate-scolding tone. "Master
Bruce, killing your brain cells with sleep deprivation will most assuredly
*not* solve the case for you. Now kindly eat your lunch, sir, and your
bed awaits."

Bruce looked up blearily and sighed heavily. "Yes, I know,
Alfred... thank you." Rubbing a hand across his exhausted eyes, the 
billionaire-playboy-turned-vigilante rested his head back in his chair.

The aging butler worried at the strain evident in his employer and 
honorary son's face, but he remained silent. Master Bruce would speak 
when he was ready, and not one moment before.

It took until after the sandwich had been eaten and half the milk
drunk before Bruce finally spoke. "I don't have to tell you to vary our
movements over the next few days... I have faith in your skills to know
what to do." He looked at the butler with one of his rare full smiles.
"You've been the best friend that a man like me could have, Alfred."

Alfred was uncertain how to respond, though flattered by the
genuine affection showing in his "son's" usually impassive face. Such
open caring gave clear indication that Master Bruce was worried. Alfred's
answer was given with an unusual gentleness beneath the slightly arrogant
British tones. "Quite so, Master Bruce. Quite so. Now, young man, off
to bed with you. You'll be quite useless this evening in tracking down
this villain if you do not get some sleep."

Bruce couldn't help the faint smile. The two men shared a sincere
love for one another not unlike that between between Bruce and Dick, but
it was rare that they allowed themselves open expression of it. Standing,
Bruce bid the butler a soft "Good night, Alfred," and went up the stairs
to bed.

Watching after him for a moment, Alfred Pennyworth was struck by
the haunting fear that if he wasn't watchful, he would lose a large part
of his heart. Resolve hardened his features, giving them a harsh
expression more suited to the agent Alfred was in his youth. Nothing was
going to happen to that young man, or Alfred *would* inflict serious
bodily damage.

A glance up the stairs showed him that Master Bruce was out of the
cave, and Alfred used the opportunity to check the information the younger
man had been so intently studying. What he found didn't surprise him,
he'd been expecting it. Carefully erasing the screen, the butler stood
from the terminal and left the Cave with a purposeful stride.

***

Chapter 4


Marc Collins sat in his hotel room, carefully cleaning his weapons
and making sure they assembled quickly and silently. He wouldn't be able
to use them for a little while yet, but he was a fanatic about how well 
his equipment was kept up. Repacking them carefully in their cases, 
Collins studied his handiwork with pleasure. Then he closed the cases and 
hid them in the closet, locked tightly so that the cleaning staff wouldn't 
be tempted to rifle through them.

Grabbing his jacket off a hanger, he surveyed the room, committing
certain details to memory. He'd be able to tell when he returned if
anyone had been in the room. Sliding his arms into his coat, Collins
turned and exited his hotel room, moving to blend in with the crowds of
people on the street for the first phase of his stakeout - getting a look
at the Wayne Enterprises building and determining which office was
Wayne's. Blueprints were public domain and could be obtained this
afternoon.

***
Upon arriving at the BatCave at his normal hour, Tim Drake was
surprised to find Bruce not in residence. Letting Alfred know that he was
downstairs, he suited up. Carrying his mask and boots to the control
panel, Tim checked the main computers.

"Master Timothy, Master Bruce left word that you should not join
him this evening on his patrol."

Tim turned to look at Alfred, startled. "You're kidding."

Sadly, Alfred shook his head. "No, young man, I am not. He has
already left for the night."

Scowling, Tim demanded, "And you let him go? Knowing what's
happening out there??"

Something glinted in Alfred's eyes for a split second, but the
butler remained outwardly his usual placid self. "And you would suggest I
attempt to stop him _how_, Master Timothy?" Alfred's tone held the
disdain that only a British butler can exude.

Tim sighed. He knew there was no way to stop Bruce from doing
whatever he felt like doing, but this was getting ridiculous. "I'm going
out anyway, Alfred." He studied the older man quietly. There was
something he couldn't quite put his finger on. That split-second 
expression, perhaps.

Alfred simply nodded. "As you wish, young man. Is there anything
you need before you go?"

"No... thanks, Alfred." Tim waited until the butler took himself 
up the stairs and into the manor house before opening the comlink to 
Oracle. "Robin to Oracle, anyone out there?"

***

When the call came through from the BatCave, it was Nightwing who
responded. "Robin? It's Nightwing."

Tim rolled his eyes. Like he had to be told that much!

"Anything new on your end, Nightwing? You were right, Bats
ditched me for the night."

Shaking his head, Nightwing sent Barbara a grimace as she wheeled
into the room. "Yeah, I figured. He did that to me a few times, too.
Listen, Babs has picked up a couple of names that she's looking into, but
so far, we don't have a lead on where Sellers or Collins are holing up. I
figure we'll case a few of the less reputable motels and stuff while she
works her magic."

Barbara smiled faintly, winking at him for the compliment.

Robin nodded slowly. "Gotcha. Meet you on top of the tenement
building from last night?"

"Yep, see you there," replied Nightwing. Noticing that the
other boy sounded almost hesitant, he prodded gently. "Anything wrong, 
Robin?"

"Well... tell Babs to keep an eye on Alfred, okay? He's acting a
little weird."

Barbara raised an eyebrow and made her presence known to the young
vigilante. "Weird how, Boy Wonder?" She glanced at Nightwing with a
grin. Sometimes it was hard to keep their nicknames straight, when she
was teasing them. Tim's next words worried her, though.

"It's hard to describe, Oracle. I just... well, I caught
something in his face a little while ago, and I can't quite pin it down.
I don't want to sound paranoid or anything, but I think he might know a
bit more than he's telling about what's going on, and it seems a little
creepy that he's not sharing it."

Nightwing and Oracle exchanged glances. Interesting theory. It
gave Barbara something new to go on, as well. "I'll check into it, Robin.
Thanks for letting me know," she replied.

Nightwing stood and kissed her cheek, securing his mask tightly.
"I'll check in every so often, and you know how to get me." Without
waiting for a response, the masked crimefighter disappeared from the
apartment. Barbara turned her full attention to her computers to sift
through the information she had so far and began her search for clues.

***

Donovan Sellers skulked around Hyatt Corners, a scum-infested
neighborhood on the south end of Gotham. It was the kind of place where
nobody sees anything and questions are never asked. In a dingy little
apartment above an establishment euphemistically named "Bob's Lounge,"
Sellers fingered the fraying newspaper clippings that reported the deaths
of his wife and two children. He'd handled the printed pages so often,
they were starting to disintegrate. 

Tears glistened in his faded blue eyes as he carefully set aside 
the clippings to look at the last family picture they'd had taken, just 
three months before their deaths. Odd, he thought to himself, how you 
couldn't see Melissa's growing depression in her smile. She'd known her 
job wasn't secure, that her research was soon to be cut off. But he 
hadn't. Donovan hadn't seen the fear and desperation in her eyes. Not 
until it was too late. Until Joey and Donny paid. His fingertips touched 
her face, trembling under the force of his anguish and rage.

"He will pay, Missy... I promise you that. For the boys, and for
what he did to you."

***

Alfred kept a careful eye on the time. Master Bruce would be out
all night, but covering his tracks in the computer had to be done
perfectly or his eagle-eyed employer would know something was afoot. It
took him almost two hours to find what he was looking for, and he
carefully printed out the results, then erased all traces of what he'd
found. There was no need for more than one copy, and he had to make sure
Master Bruce didn't find the information before Alfred had the chance to
do something about it.

***

Chapter 5


Barbara spent the better part of the afternoon tracking down a
timeline for Marc Collins' movements in the past 20 years. Tacking
together all of his known aliases, she managed to piece together most of
his history, though there was a four-year stretch of time missing. What
he'd been doing in this timeframe, she just couldn't seem to trace.

Twenty-two years ago, Marc Collins (born Marcus Brian Vickers) had
been a Black Ops officer in Her Majesty's Royal Navy - essentially the
British version of the Navy SEALs. He'd been recruited into British Intel
at the age of 30, working undercover on various overseas jobs in the
Middle East. Seven years later, he'd come under suspicion of being a
double agent. It was then that he dropped off the map for four years. 
No records, no information, not using any of his known aliases, no
photographic records, nothing. Barbara was incredibly frustrated by the
matter, actually.

Eleven years ago, Collins resurfaced under his own name. Reports
were unclear on whether he had been cleared of the suspicion of being a
double agent, but the reports of his activities after he resurfaced
indicated that he'd taken on the life of a mercenary. A grand total of 21
aliases known to Interpol were listed in his records, and some impressive
hits were attributed to Marc Collins. Four Columbian drug lords, three
high level Iraqi commanders, one Indian diplomat, two Russian generals and
three billionaire financier types. All of the information Interpol had
indicated that he was taking money in exchange for both assassinations and
information brokering.

"Nasty guy." Barbara considered her options. Those four missing
years were nagging at her in the worst way. 

***

Collins spent the day studying extensive blueprints of the
Wayne Enterprises building. "Very interesting architect you have here,
Wayne...." he murmured thoughtfully. The building was set up to be as
close to impenetrable as humanly possible. He noted something else odd,
too. Between several of the floors of the building, and in several walls
throughout the structure, there seemed to be some extra space. Like the
walls were thicker than normal. Soundproofing, perhaps?

Lunchtime came and went before Collins moved from his hotel room. 
By the time he was ready to move, he had a full understanding of the
schematics of Bruce Wayne's building. And he was going to leave the
billionaire playboy a message....

***

Because Nightwing couldn't move as easily during the day, Dick
Grayson resolved to do some snooping of a more mundane sort. Taking his
motorcycle into downtown Gotham, Dick took on his public persona of "Bruce
Wayne's ward" and showed up in the office of Gotham's Police Commissioner.

Jim Gordon sat at his desk as Dick was ushered in by one of the
uniformed officers and studied the young man closely. "Afternoon, son.
How are you?" He stood to shake Dick's hand.

Dick reached out and took the proffered hand and nodded a little.
"Could be better, sir, thank you for asking." When the Commissioner
indicated that he should sit, Dick complied and then continued. "I wanted
to know just what information you have on this Donovan Sellers guy that's
after Bruce. I'm pretty concerned, Commissioner, as I'm sure you can
imagine."

Jim nodded, retaking his seat behind the desk. Pursing his lips
beneath his mustache, he began. "Sellers was jailed eleven years ago for
attempted murder when he came after your guardian, Dick. The guy's wife
murdered both of their children and then committed suicide after losing
her research grant at Wayne Enterprises. It was a tragic situation, and
Bruce blamed himself for a long time. Sellers snapped, and about four
days after the funerals, he tried to shoot Bruce while he was in the
Gotham Regency Hotel eating dinner. I don't know for sure that he will
continue to try anything, but the warden notified me when he was released
just in case. I've offered Bruce police protection, which he's turned
down. There's not much else I can do."

Dick nodded. "Alfred said something about the possibility that 
Sellers hired someone to come after Bruce?"

"Well, son... from all the evidence we have, it does look that
way. Since Bruce refuses police help, though, there's little I can do
except keep my officers on alert."

Dick sighed. "Thanks for seeing me, Commissioner. I just needed
to know where the situation stood... and you know Bruce. He won't say
much about it." Chagrin showed on Dick's face. "I think he still thinks
I'm a kid or something, sometimes." 

Jim smiled faintly. "We all feel that way about our kids, Dick.
Keep your eyes open, okay? If you see anything strange, let us know."

Dick nodded and stood. "I'll do that, sir. Thanks for your time." 
He left the office with a black scowl on his features as he made his way
through the precinct.

Stepping outside into the bright sunlight, Dick weighed his
options. Bruce wasn't going to tell him or Tim anything at all, and
Alfred was hedging. Why? Dick wasn't sure. But he'd get to the bottom
of that.

As he walked toward his motorcycle, the sound of a gunshot echoing
between the buildings sent him ducking for cover. A burning sensation in
his left arm gave Dick the clear understanding that whoever was shooting,
it was at *him*! Hurling himself behind the nearest car, his right hand
flew to assess the damage and staunch the flow of blood while he peeked
out to try and locate the source of the shots.

Two more dinged off the hood of the vehicle around which he was
peering, and Dick ducked again. By now, officers from the precinct were 
already moving. Three bolted from the doorway of the building to the 
protective cover of cars, while one carefully made his way to Dick.

Officers Hanley, Morgan and Nelligan scanned the area quickly.
When no more shots were fired, Nelligan bellowed toward the precinct.
"Lock down the block, get the squad cars in to cordon off two blocks in
either direction, NOW!"

Officer John Sylvester checked Dick's arm briefly, and then hauled
the young man to his feet. "C'mon, inside!" He hustled Dick back into
the precinct under the cover of the other three officers, with Dick
protesting the whole way.

"It's nothing," he insisted. No one was listening, especially
once the Commissioner realized Dick was hit. 

Immediately calling for a first aid kit, Jim squatted next to Dick
and cut the expensive silk shirt away from the groove in the younger man's
arm, the Commissioner gruffly replied, "Just hold still, let me look."

Dick subsided gracefully, allowing his future father-in-law to
take a close look at the gash.

Jim's face was a study in relief. "Just a scratch." He shook his 
head, cleaning and bandaging the wound himself. "Jesus, Dick... scared 
the hell outta me, boy. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes when Barbara 
gets hold of you."

Dick couldn't help but grin a little. "She'll just be glad I had
the presence of mind to duck." He glanced at the officers scurrying here,
there and everywhere. "But I think I better call her. She's got that
police scanner, and she knew I was coming here. She's probably frantic by
now, sir."

Jim taped the bandage tight and nodded. "Go on, then. I'll need
a statement from you shortly." He grinned slightly, "I don't expect it to
say much, but anything you remember seeing might help." 

The Commissioner watched as the young man went into his office to
make the call in semi-private conditions, and shook his head. He had a
feeling that if young Grayson hadn't been who he was, he'd have been dead
on the ground outside police headquarters. Heads would roll if the
shooter wasn't located.

Jim got to work, hollering for Nelligan. "Have you got him yet?" 

***

Chapter 6


When the phone rang, Barbara grabbed it the receiver from its
cradle, fearing the worst. "Hello??"

"Babs? It's me."

The redhead wilted in relief. "Thank God. I didn't hear any
calls for ambulances, so I figured you were in one piece. But you scared
the crap out of me, Grayson."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I just got grazed by a bullet on the
arm, Barbara. Try not to panic." Dick grimaced. "Your dad's not too 
thrilled either, and wants to stick *me* into protective custody now." 
He sighed. "It's got to be related, but I can't afford bodyguards. Not
now."

Barbara nodded, though Dick couldn't see it. "Yeah, I know. You
better call Bruce and let him know. If he finds out some other way, you
know how he'll be. Maybe this will be a catalyst for him letting you get
involved and we won't have to sneak around him."

"Ever the optimist, eh?" Dick sounded amused. "I'll call Alfred
after I get done with the police reports."

Barbara sighed. "All right. Get going. I'll be here when you get
done." 

***

Collins' sojourn was a success. Message delivered. Now, to stake
the place out. Getting too close to the house would be a definite
problem, set back from the road and fully secure as it was. Marc decided
the best thing to do was wait. Wayne hadn't come in to the office today,
but he would get the message soon enough.

***

Filling out a police report, even when you had next to no
information to actually put in the darn thing, took much longer than Dick
planned. Finally, he told Jim sternly, "I'm leaving. I don't want police
protection, and I *don't* want this publicized. Try and keep it out of
the papers, for God's sake, as long as you can. I need to contact Bruce."

Jim simply sighed. He'd expected as much. "Fine. Whatever you
do, son, don't lead them to Barbara. Bulletproof glass or not, she can't
dodge as fast you can. They could be just going after you for a message
to Bruce because they can't get to him... or you could be the primary 
target. What better way for a guy to get back at the man who he believes 
caused his sons' deaths than to take that man's son in payment?"

Dick nodded. "I know, sir. I'll be careful."

Escaping the precinct, Dick was cautious on his trip back to Wayne
Manor. He was greeted at the door by a very concerned Alfred. "Master
Dick, Miss Barbara called to let us know what happened. Are you well,
sir?"

Dick smiled. "It's a scratch, Alfred, nothing more." He squeezed
Alfred's shoulder. "Is Bruce home?"

"He's in the library, sir. I'll bring tea. You both have a lot
to discuss." 

Dick nodded and made his way to the library.

***

Alfred waited until Dick was out of sight, and his expression 
altered from concern to rage. *NO one* was going to threaten either of 
those boys like this. Not while *he* had anything at all to say about it. 
It was time that Alfred, the British Intel agent, came out of retirement. 
The aging butler hastened to get the tea, knowing that tonight could be 
his last night as a gentleman's gentleman.

***

When Alfred arrived in the library with the tea, it was to heated
words between Dick and Bruce.

"Damn it, Dick, this is not your concern! I've set you up with a
bodyguard for your public identity, and I realize that's going to limit
your movements as Nightwing. I have to find Collins myself, don't you
understand? I can't afford to lose you too." 

"No, I don't understand!" Dick's tone was laced with more 
frustration than anger. "You're hindering my ability to protect myself at
all with a bodyguard. Just like having one for yourself would hinder 
*you*. And I won't have it! You don't get to call the shots here, not 
when this jerk just tried to kill me!"

Bruce's eyes on Dick were cold. "If he wanted to kill you, he
would have. He doesn't miss. Ever."

Dick's brows drew together in a faint frown. "You know more about
this guy than you're telling, aren't you? How do you know that?"

Bruce's words were harsh. "I made it my business to know."

Alfred interrupted. "Master Bruce, Master Dick. This will get
you nowhere, sirs. Kindly drink your tea, and brainstorm about how
working together will get you further than working apart." He sternly
fixed an eye on Bruce. Rarely did he give the young man orders anymore,
but he used the tone that said Bruce better listen. "You know he will
just go out on his own without you, eluding a bodyguard in the process,
Master Bruce. You might as well turn it to your advantage. Now both of
you, cease this tirade." The butler turned on his heel and left the room,
not missing the look of surprise that passed between the two men he 
considered his "sons."

***

Donovan Sellers chortled to himself in his rat-infested room. Oh
yes, this plan was working out splendidly. Too bad Grayson was only
grazed, but still. It would work out as he planned. Most definitely.

***

Alfred moved into the BatCave and began gathering things up. He'd
spent part of the afternoon pulling together a 'bag of tricks,' as it
were, to help him tonight. He had a good idea of where to start, but he
needed to be ready to move as soon as Batman left for the night.
Preferably with Nightwing in tow, and Robin tailing them for backup.

His small case ready to go, Alfred went upstairs to make dinner
for the two men, and then assisted them in getting ready for the night's
caper. As he'd hoped, Master Bruce had taken his stern words to heart and
Nightwing would be accompanying him.

"Keep Robin here, though. Tell him to coordinate with Oracle for
tonight." Batman's voice was quiet.

"Of course, sir. I wouldn't dream of not having him in touch with
Oracle at all times."

Nightwing and Batman roared into the night, and when Robin arrived
a half an hour later, Alfred assisted him in suiting up as well. "Master
Robin, you're not to let them see you, and you're to stay in constant
contact with Oracle." His expression was stern. "Do _not_ let those two
out of your sight, Master Robin."

Tim nodded. "Absolutely, Alfred. Nothing will happen to them, I
promise."

Alfred allowed himself a small smile. "As do I, young man. Now,
off with you."

As soon as Robin cleared the Cave in the Redbird, Alfred was in
motion. Gathering up the elements of his disguise, the butler dressed 
quickly and grabbed his small bag of tricks. Into the night went the 
eldest of Batman's masters of disguise, on the hunt.

***

Chapter 7


Barbara's night had already been hectic enough. Black Canary
contacted her for information on Quarac, because something was happening
in that country that didn't look so good. She'd contacted the League
about an anomalous reading from one of the Watchtower's computers and 
dispatched Green Lantern to investigate a spatial irregularity at the 
outer rim of the solar system. And she was *still* trying to trace the 
movements of one Marc Collins and one Donovan Sellers.

Street level, she already had a bead on Donovan Sellers. Hyatt's
Corners somewhere. She anonymously sent that information to her father,
so that he'd get a plainclothes officer down there to locate and follow
Sellers. But Collins was getting to be a serious pain in the butt.

Those missing four years were just not ANYWHERE. What had the
damn man been doing?? She tried to find clues about his destination in
all records of the work he'd been doing prior to his disappearance. The
only person with whom he'd been in contact, for which she had proof, was
on Dimitri Petrov of the Soviet Union. And that was strictly Intel
business.... or was it? Barbara snapped her fingers. How could she have
missed it?? Intel business!

Opening a link to the Batcave, Barbara attempted to contact Robin
or Alfred. There was no answer, which puzzled her, especially since all
three of the "boys" were out. Alfred usually monitored from the Batcave.
She opened a link to Robin's comlink.

"Robin here, Oracle. Whatcha need?"

"Robin, where are you?" She noted that his voice was hushed, like
he was in the middle of something.

"Keeping an eye on Bats and the Wingster, Oracle."

Barbara frowned. "Okay... any ideas where Alfred went tonight?"

That made Robin pause. "He's not in the cave?"

"Nope. Just tried there. It's kind of strange. Maybe you better
check on him."

Robin hesitated. "He was acting a bit odd before I left, Oracle.
He told me to stay out of sight of Nightwing and Batman tonight."

"Get back there, Robin. Let me know what you find when you get
there, and meanwhile I'll let Batman and Nightwing know something may be
up." Oracle's voice remained ever calm, despite the fact that she was
more than a little concerned.

"On it, Oracle."

***

Nightwing's comlink chimed in his ear while he was busy pounding a
large brute to a pulp for assaulting a young woman with a baby. Batman
was taking on the other two in the group while the young woman sobbed,
protecting her infant.

"Just... a sec... Oracle." Nightwing huffed a little. "Got my
hands full."

Barbara rolled her eyes on the other end of the terminal, simply
waiting until he could focus. Meanwhile, her hands flew over the 
keyboards. If Alfred found something, it would have to have been in the 
Batcave's computers, and Barbara knew those machines inside and out. 
She'd been helping maintain them. So what did he find?

***

Alfred took up a position in a coffee shop just across from the
Bryant Hotel. It had taken him some time to remember it, but Marc Collins
had a son. The vast majority of his aliases were not related to the boy. 
They were just names he pulled out of the blue. But one alias, which had
not even been an official one for the Intel community, had been based on
his son's name. Lo, and behold... Nathaniel Roberts was checked into the
Bryant Hotel.

Now, all Alfred had to do was wait. He'd personally worked with
Marc Collins (nee Vickers) just once, 13 years ago. He hadn't known about
the man's tie to Bruce at the time, only learning that yesterday with a
lot of digging. He still wasn't clear on why Collins would take this hit,
but he was *going* to find out. If the assignment actually was a hit on
Bruce Wayne and not something bigger, Alfred was going to 'persuade' his
old comrade to walk away from the job and let Alfred handle the fallout
back home. He was certain he would recognize the hitman, and Alfred's own
disguise - short dark hair, swarthy complexion, scruffy beard and mustache
- shouldn't make him too obvious. He could even eradicate his British
accent if it became necessary.

Collins left the Bryant Hotel in a blond wig and mustache,
carrying what looked like his suitcase. Nothing at all unusual in that,
unless you knew what you were looking at. He moved with every evidence of
casual disregard to the possibility of being followed, but his dark eyes
were constantly flitting from one place to another. As observant as he
was, he missed the shadow that was Alfred.

As Collins turned down Carter Avenue toward the subway station, he 
finally noted the presence of someone. He ducked into an alleyway, out of 
sight. When Alfred rounded the corner, Collins grabbed the butler by the 
throat, intending to slam him against the wall... and was shocked to find 
that in a split second, he'd become the one in danger. Alfred held a 
butterfly knife to Collins' throat, hissing in a deadly voice, "One 
millimetre, and I will watch as every bit of blood drains out of you onto 
the ground."

Dark eyes met Alfred Pennyworth's gaze, and sudden recognition
gleamed in them. "I say, old man... it's about time you found me."

***

Robin arrived back at the Batcave to find it empty and contacted
Oracle. "There's nothing here, Oracle. No note, no information, nothing.
Where would Alfred have gone without telling us?"

"I don't know, Robin... but I do know that he's not carrying any
of the bat-equipment. Whatever he's doing, I can't trace him."

From her headset, Oracle finally heard Nightwing's voice. "Okay.
We're through here, Oracle. What's happening?"

Keeping her response brief, and making sure both Batman and
Nightwing were listening, Barbara replied. "Alfred has vanished from the
cave. Robin says there's no trace of him, and he's not carrying any of
the equipment that I could track. It might also interest you to know that
Sellers has gone underground. The plainclothes officer said he couldn't
have gotten out more than 15 minutes earlier."

Nightwing's breath hissed out of his throat in a quiet "Damn." He 
looked toward his mentor, worry for Alfred clear in his expression.

Batman seemed to be lost in thought. "If there are no signs of a 
struggle in the upper levels of the house, this entire situation has taken 
on a new dimension." He looked at Nightwing. "Come on, chum... he's fine.
I have an idea."

***

Firmly entrenched in the dark hole he used as a hideaway, Donovan
Sellers looked on the frayed picture of his wife and sons sadly. "Soon,
Missy. He'll pay, and then I'll come to you. I promise."

***

Chapter 8


Alfred dragged Collins deeper into the alleyway, butterfly knife 
held pressed against the assassin's throat. "I dare say, Marcus, that you
were expecting me. As well you should, considering your target." 

"Let's just say I expected you to see what I wanted you to, and I
hoped you hadn't lost your skills. I made certain to be picked up coming 
into the country so that if you were looking, you'd find me. We need to 
talk." Collins' voice was calm, and he met Alfred's eyes steadily. "If
you don't help, Wayne's ward will be dead within 24 hours."

Studying the man with narrowed eyes, Alfred expertly flipped his 
knife closed. "You have 10 minutes, Marcus, to explain yourself. Then, if
I do not like your explanation or do not believe you, I will leave your 
body in an alley to be identified later." Alfred's threat rang with 
conviction. His years in the theater served him well, it was impossible 
to tell whether he was bluffing unless you knew that he wouldn't kill.

***

Three unmasked vigilantes stood before the BatComputer while
Barbara joined them via teleconference and showed them what she'd
uncovered. "I still don't have anything whatsoever in that four year gap,
though," she concluded. "He could have been doing anything, anywhere in
the world. *BUT* I did come across one notation. Here." She flashed one
document onto the screen of the terminal that the three studied.

Robin looked confused. "What do the Wayne Enterprises blueprints
have to do with anything?"

Shaking her head, Barbara replied. "I can only guess at this
point. A call came from Bruce Wayne's office to the Manor about 18
minutes ago, however, that may answer that. Fox said there was a ...
message ... left for Bruce Wayne."

Bruce scowled. "What kind of message?"

Barbara paused. "A picture of Dick held to the wall with a 
knife. No fingerprints." Her gaze sought and held Dick's. "Sellers is
after revenge, but he's going to do it by taking Dick out of your life the
way you took his sons."

Dick frowned.

Bruce nodded slightly. "I wondered, when he was shot at in front
of the PD." He steepled his fingers together. "It will limit Dick's 
movements, but I'm hoping that by giving him a bigger target, Sellers 
might leave Dick alone."

All three of the younger members of the team looked at him with
varying degrees of dismay, already knowing what was coming.

"If I make a public target of myself, we may draw Collins - and
Sellers - into a trap."

"No way, Bruce!" Dick's temper exploded. "He's obviously not
trying to kill you. He's trying to make you suffer. Well, I'm not
'Robin, the Boy Hostage' any more, and I won't be used against you that
way!"

"Hey!" Tim looked a little affronted. "Robin, the Boy Hostage?"

Dick cast a vaguely apologetic glance at Tim. "Sorry."

Bruce scowled. "No. I will not allow you to place yourself at
risk for this. Don't you understand, Dick? Marc Collins _does not miss_,
ever."

Dick's expression eased as he caught Barbara's sympathetic look
toward Bruce. He realized that his foster father loved him and that it
was incredibly hard to show. He put a hand on Bruce's shoulder, which was
still encased in Batman armor. "Bruce... listen to me. You can't always
protect me. And if we're going to draw him out by being a target, your
best bet is to either let me come with you, or let me play bait while
*you* nab him as Batman."

Bruce shook his head. "Whatever Sellers' agenda, Collins has one
of his own." His voice was quiet. "If Collins were the one shooting at
you, he winged you for a reason. Maybe just to give us a fighting
chance to figure out what's going on."

Barbara caught the same tone which had given him away to Nightwing
and Robin earlier in the night. "Bruce... what are you not telling us?"

Bruce sighed quietly, studying the adamant expressions of his
adopted son and youngest protege. "All right." He moved to face the
computer. Dick's hand slid from Bruce's shoulder as he and Tim took up
positions on either side of their mentor to see what he was showing them.
Barbara observed via her remote connection, the first to get a good look
at what was on the screen because it was on hers too.

"Oh my God." She was stunned.

Dick and Tim both skimmed the documents. Tim's grasp of the
information was not immediate, but Dick's was. His blue eyes widened in
shock, and he breathed a soft epithet. "Why didn't you *say* something?"

Bruce shook his head. "Because it was personal, Dick. And it was
my fault." Leaning back in his chair, Bruce began the story in a hushed 
tone ....

***

<i>Fourteen years earlier..</i>

Bruce Wayne, travelling the world in his efforts to learn all that
he felt he would need to know in order to become the Batman, met a man 
named Jon Baxter in a pub. They were the only two white men in this area 
of Thailand, which drew them together for a shared drink. It was then 
that Bruce found out that Jon, known now as Marc Collins, would also be 
training under the tutelage of Ampan Sita. The two men hit it off from 
the start and became friends.

Three months of friendship and shared learning beneath the master
fighter Ampan Sita bred a type of competition into the friendship. Good
natured, usually, though occasionally one or the other would get angry at
being bested. The setting was probably one of the most relaxed Bruce had
known in many years. Until the night that Jon Baxter died.

Ampan Sita had few enemies, but those few were incredibly good
fighters and very powerful sorcerers. Bruce Wayne had never believed in
magic before that night, but he watched as Ampan Sita was cut down in a
whirling blast of sparkling green mist. Jon and Bruce launched themselves
at the attacker, but he turned his power on them easily.>> 

***

"When I woke, Jon was gone and Ampan Sita was dead. I thought at
first that Jon was killed too. Five years later, I knew that he hadn't
been. I don't know how he got out of there, but he left me a message. 'I
won't forget.'" Bruce's breath blew out in a sigh. "It was my fault that
the sorcerer traced Ampan Sita so quickly. I had been asking about him
all over Asia. It's possible that Jon blames me for what happened. I
wouldn't have thought he'd be angry enough to take on a job like this, but
I've been hoping to find him and ask. Whatever the Commissioner believes,
I don't think he's here to kill me. He could have done that any number of
times already. And if he intended to actually kill *you*, Dick, he
wouldn't have just grazed you in front of the police station. Something's
just not adding up."

Barbara shared a glance with Dick, who returned her look and then
gazed at Tim. 

All three were wondering the exact same thing, which Tim voiced. 
"What's that got to do with Alfred, though? It's not like him to just
jump into something like this. He knows we can take care of ourselves."

Bruce shook his head. "That, I don't know. Alfred's been very
careful not to act strangely where I could see him."

***

Two figures sat hunched over drinks in a dingy little pub off the 
waterfront. "So young Richard has no idea what he saw, then?"

Collins shook his head. "We don't think so. If he did, we were 
pretty sure he'd have already reported it. We have extensive files on 
him, including the fact that he's applied to the Police Academy in 
Bludhaven. The price on his head is strictly because of what he saw, 
regardless of whether he'll talk. Intel is sending someone to talk to 
him, and Mirelli doesn't want to give the kid even the opportunity to 
remember anything about that meeting. Giavinni was supposed to have been 
dead already."

Alfred considered the situation that Collins had just finished
laying out for him, and then nodded. "All right, Marcus. I'll help you,
because it helps my employer and his ward. There will be conditions,
however. The first of which is that I can verify what you've said. I'll
meet you back at the Bryant in one hour."

***

Barbara pursed her lips and then nodded. "All right. How about
we turn the tables? Bruce, I take it your plan was to attend the opening
of the Courtland Street Community Center to make yourself a target,
right?"

Dick glanced at Barbara in surprise. Damn, she was good. His
admiration was genuine, as Bruce gave that rueful half-smile. "Good
deduction, Barbara. Yes."

Barbara nodded. "I recommend that you allow Dick to go instead,
and that Batman and Robin act as backup bodyguards." She held up a hand
to forestall Bruce's argument. "We can pad him with unmarked armor
beneath that nice tux that Alfred keeps so beautifully pressed, and he'll
be fine. However, it will give both you and Robin the advantage of being
out of the limelight, and this guy is more likely to go for his real
target than you."

None of them could really argue that point, and Bruce was forced
to concede. He didn't like it, though, it was clear. "All right... we'll
let the press leak that Dick will be attending in my place tomorrow
night."

Tim simply nodded and then asked worriedly, "What will we do if
this guy's grabbed Alfred or something, though?"

Dick and Bruce exchanged shuttered looks that barely hid their
anguish. If anything happened to the faithful butler, they would both be
devastated. Dick finally responded roughly. "We'll find him, Tim. He'll
be fine. I promise." His eyes never left those of his mentor, each
making the words a pact between them.

***

Chapter 9


The knock at the hotel room door sounded like pistol shots in the
quiet room. When Collins checked outside and opened the door, Alfred
Pennyworth stepped into the room.

"Have you verified what you needed to?"

Alfred nodded. "It's good to be working with you again, Marcus.
Your employer sends his regards."

Collins grinned faintly. "I'm sure I'll get an earful when I get
back about allowing myself to be found out. I have the layout of the
square. Let's get started." He pointed to the map of the Community Center
and its immediate vicinity as he spoke. "Grayson will be here. I believe
this area will be our target." He paused. "And if I know Bruce, the
Batman will be somewhere.... here."

Alfred's expression remained cool and remote. "If the Police
Commissioner has enlisted the vigilante's aid, all to the better. It's
highly likely you are correct that he will be there somewhere."

Calmly, Collins nodded. "Especially since it's his ward who is 
the target. I hope your disappearance doesn't cost you his trust, 
Alfred."

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you mean, Marcus."

"Of course you do, Alfred. But you have no need to acknowledge
it. My superiors don't know that Bruce Wayne is the Batman, and never
will from me. Ampan Sita's training is distinctive and shows through in
his moves, though. I've had the opportunity to observe him several times
in the last few days." Collins left the conversation at that. "Let's get
to work."

***

Alfred did not return to Wayne Manor that night, nor the next 
morning. By the time the evening rolled around, everyone was more than a 
little tense. No one was going to put into words the idea that Alfred 
might have been killed.

Barbara spent the entire day attempting to track down the four
missing years in Collins' life. She was making some headway, thanks to
the information that Bruce had finally shared. She contacted Bruce late in
the afternoon.

"He was in Sri Lanka, Bruce. I've managed to isolate a name
finally. Thomas Jeffries." Her tone was thoughtful. "Just out of
curiosity, did you know that Alfred was doing a lot of travelling at the
same time you were?"

Bruce quirked a dark brow at her. "Of course. He spent some time
in England, since the Manor had no real need of fulltime care."

Barbara nodded slowly. "England wasn't the only place he spent
time. Thomas Jeffries was Alfred's alias in British Intel, years ago. 
It was reactivated in Sri Lanka 13 years ago, less than a year after Jon
Baxter supposedly died in Thailand. On a hunch, I followed 'Thomas's'
movements and I came across the name 'William Nathaniel.' It's not one of
the multiple aliases that Collins has on file at Interpol, but then
neither was Jon Baxter. This Nathaniel guy fits Collins' general
description, though. And he was buddying around Sri Lanka with our friend
Thomas."

Bruce blinked. Though probably the greatest detective in the
world (not a title he'd given himself), he had been too preoccupied to
think to check *Alfred's* old ties. "Interesting," he replied. "It puts
a new spin on Alfred's movements the last few days, too. After you and
Robin mentioned his odd behavior, I checked here a little more closely.
There are a few disguises missing. Alfred has likely taken matters into
his own hands, though I don't understand why he'd do that instead of
simply telling us what he knows."

Barbara shook her head. "I don't know, Bruce." She glanced over
her shoulder, as Dick's voice came from behind her.

"I'm on my way to Wayne Manor to pick up my tux. I hope you and
Robin have that block covered, Bruce."

The turbulent emotions in Bruce's eyes were quickly masked, though
Barbara caught his fear for Dick as he spoke. "Not to worry, Dick. We're
heading out momentarily to take our position. Just remember to duck, will
you?" It was a valiant attempt to keep the situation light when Bruce's
heart felt like lead in his chest. "Oracle, keep the lines open. Once
Robin and I are in position, we'll open links."

Barbara nodded and replied, "Oracle standing by."

***

This was a colossally bad plan. Standing out here, even with
armor on, deliberately making a target of himself was causing Dick to
practically break out in hives. Although there were plainclothes and
uniformed police on and near the podium and the new Dynamic Duo were
sitting somewhere above in the shadows, Dick was nervous. It wasn't
showing, but he was. The small receiver in his ear hummed with Barbara's
quiet voice. "Nothing yet, from any quarter."

The director of the community center droned on and on about how
grateful they were for Bruce Wayne's contributions to the project. 
Dick's blue eyes scanned the crowd, barely listening.

***

It hadn't taken any effort at all to knock the rookie officer
unconscious, he mused. As if his revenge was being blessed by a higher
power. No one had even missed the kid yet. It was time. 

Donovan Sellers made his way into the crowd, dressed in a stolen 
police uniform. He didn't care what happened to him, but he had to get 
close enough to get one good shot at the Grayson boy. He was angry at 
himself for missing that morning in front of the police station. He was 
out of practice and too far away, though. He wouldn't make that mistake 
again.

***

Batman and Robin studied the gathered crowd below carefully. So
far, nothing out of the ordinary. Oracle quietly reported, "There are
plainclothes guys stationed at both sides of the podium, three
plainclothes guys in front of the podium, and a large number of uniforms
in the crowd. The Commissioner is pretty sure he's got the area covered."

Batman didn't even acknowledge her. His eyes were on Dick, just
now standing to move to the podium and graciously accept the accolades on
Bruce Wayne's behalf, and then on the surrounding buildings. If an
assassination attempt was going to take place, it would be from up here
_somewhere_. He just had to find where.


*** 

Collins held his rifle stable in the window. "I've got him lined
up. I just need him to move very slightly, and I have the shot." 

"You'd better not miss, Marcus, else I shall be forced to take 
matters into my own hands." Alfred's voice was cold, and he watched 
carefully from a second window to see what was happening below.

Collins didn't look up from his sights, though a frisson of an
emotion not unlike fear slid up his spine. He had no doubts what would
happen if he missed. Alfred had a reputation for being scrupulous about
details, and worse than a pit bull when it came to defending his charges.

The head of dark hair in Collins' scope moved, aligning itself
perfectly for the shot to be taken. "He's making his move, Alfred."

***

The night was suddenly shattered by gunshots. Pandemonium broke
out in the street below. Two almost simultaneous shots, one at ground
level and one from higher up in the surrounding buildings, reverberated in
the square. At least one hit Dick, and the young man was sent sprawling
backward on the stage.

Seeing Dick fall galvanized Robin into motion. The young
vigilante hurled himself off the rooftop, headed for ground level before
Batman could get a word out to him.

The Dark Knight barked into his comlink, "Oracle! Get me a
location on the high shot! There are enough police on the ground to 
handle that one."

Oracle's voice was a little shaky, though calm. She'd watched
hundreds of times as Dick was injured, but this time was a little
different. It would have been so easy for the bullet to strike his head
instead of the armor somewhere, and there would have been no way to 
prevent that without being obvious that they knew what was happening. "I'm
on it, Batman. Satellite scan of the area isn't turning up anything."

***

The third, completely silent, shot left the barrel of the rifle
only a split second after the resounding echoes of the first two. Alfred's
breath hissed out in a fluent Arabic curse, something he rarely allowed
himself. "What just happened?" he demanded of Marc Collins.

The assassin turned to look at the aging butler. "I hit him just 
as he squeeezed off a round. That second shot was ground level, though."

Alfred peered from the curtains to see Dick gaining his feet.
"Let's go. The young man is all right. The police and Batman will be
converging on this location within minutes." He snatched up his bag of
disguises while Collins broke down the weapon.

***

Chapter 10


Batman looked down to see that Robin was just landing on the 
podium near Dick, who was gaining his feet slowly and looking skyward
angrily. Robin's voice came over the link. "Batman, Grayson says the 
second shot came from two buildings to the left, third window from the 
left on the top floor."

More shots came from in front of the podium. People scrambled for
cover as Sellers, in the stolen uniform, got off several more rounds. 
Amidst the screams and ensuing chaos, realization finally dawned that he
was one of the shooters. As he took careful aim to fire off another shot
at Dick, two plainclothes detectives shot him through the heart. As the
sounds of gunfire and the screams of the terrified slowly faded, all that
remained was the stillness of death.

Batman was immediately in motion, heading toward the location
where Dick had seen the gun. Robin grabbed Dick and shot off a grappling
line to carry them both skyward. As they gained the rooftops, Robin
halted and dropped Dick off. In less than a minute, the tuxedo was ripped
away and Nightwing stood in the space Dick Grayson occupied only moments
before.

***

Two older men slipped into the alley at the back of the building,
mingling easily into a crowd of other bums lining the street. They were
at the edge of the square, and police were urging all bystanders out of
the area. Alfred and Marc Collins shuffled their way out of the area,
herded safely by uniformed police who never had a clue of what was right
beneath their noses.

Expertly, the two men split up to make their own way back to the
hotel, each by a different route.

***

Batman crashed through the window in question, landing on the
floor and rolling behid the side of the double bed several feet away. For
several seconds he held his position, listening for movement or gunfire.
When no sound came, he stood slowly to look around the bedroom.

When Nightwing and Robin came through the window moments later,
they found Batman kneeling thoughtfully over the body of a young man with
dark hair and a swarthy complexion. There was a clean hole right at the
man's temple where the bullet had entered and then a gaping mess where the
bullet exited the other side of the man's head. 

"Oh.. yuck. What the heck happened?" Robin's voice showed his
surprise and distaste. Seeing a body in this condition was not 
commonplace to him, and he felt a little sick. He refused to get sick on 
his shoes, though! He didn't want Batman disappointed in him, so he tried 
to remain nonchalant.

Nightwing, on the other hand, simply looked grim. "If this is our
shooter, who shot *him*?"

Before Batman could answer, Oracle's voice came through each of
their comlinks. "Batman, the police have retrieved the body of Donovan
Sellers in the square. His was the ground level shot. What about the sky
shot?"

Batman's response was curt. "Oracle, there was a third shooter. 
Check the satellites and see what they caught."

"A *third*? All right, Batman, I'm on it."

There was silence from the link while she worked. Batman moved to
the window, studying the body's position and then the building across the
road. He pointed out several windows to Nightwing and Robin. "It had to
have come from somewhere over there."

Nightwing's gaze was on the unmarred face of the dead man, his
expression puzzled. Robin asked quietly, "What is it, Nightwing?"

"I don't know, Robin. But he looks familiar somehow."

"Got, it, Batman!" Oracle's voice came through loud and clear.
"Satellite imaging picked up just the tip of something come from the
building across the road from your position, one floor up and second
window from the left. I have a picture about three and a half minutes
later of two men coming out the basement door of the building. No clear
face shots, though. They're gone now."

The words were barely out of her mouth before three jumplines
carried three vigilantes out of the apartment. Barbara sighed on the
other end of the comlink, and notified the police of the apartment number
where the second shooter's body could be located.

***

Arriving back at the hotel, Alfred stripped off the mustache and
straggly beard that he'd glued to his face with spirit gum. He'd been
cautious, taking a long route back, but he'd still beat Marcus back to the
room. He smiled faintly as he changed his clothes. It had been a long,
long time since he'd felt so energized.

Collins opened the door warily, and relaxed to see Alfred within
the room. "Good to see you made it back, old man."

"Of course. You had no reason to doubt it. I know this city
better than almost anyone."

"I have no doubt of that, Alfred." Collins grinned slyly.
"Considering how many scrapes you've probably unobtrusively helped Batman
out of, I'm sure you know every back path in the city."

Alfred simply shook his head. "I have no idea what you are
talking about, Marcus." His tone was calm and unperturbed. Whatever
Collins knew, Alfred had no need to confirm or deny anything. "Your
assistance in this matter with Master Grayson was most appreciated. Your
superiors will be pleased."

Collins shrugged. "Not really. After all, you found me, didn't
you?" He smiled faintly. "Tell Bruce.... Just give him my regards. He
saved my life the night Ampan Sita died, and I owed him. I couldn't let
Mirelli take out his adopted son."

Alfred nodded. "I will tell him, Marcus." He held out his hand
to Collins. "Safe journey. And if you have need of anything, you know
where to reach me."

Marc took Alfred's hand with a smile. "Be well, old man."

***

Nightwing stayed on the narrow ledge just outside the window
Oracle had directed them to, while Robin crouched *in* the window and
Batman moved around the room. There was no need for all three of them to
be walking on any clues that might be left.

With a thoughtful frown, Batman bent down to pick up something
from the floor.

"What is it, Batman?" Robin's voice was quiet, though there was
no one but the three of them and Oracle to hear at the moment.

Batman looked at the two young vigilantes hovering in the
windowframe and replied quietly. "I believe I know who the shooter was,
but we need to go back to the Cave."

Nightwing studied his mentor for a long moment, and then nodded.
"I'll meet you both there."

***

Barbara practically crowed in delight. "Finally!" She touched
her comlink and spoke into her headset. "Batman, I found it!"

"We'll talk when we arrive back at the Cave, Oracle." Batman gave
Oracle no time to object or give additional details, cutting the
communications link.

***

Chapter 11


Barbara started filling them in as soon as they entered the 
BatCave. "According to Alfred when all this started, Collins was British
Intel. After Bruce gave me the additional information about Ampan Sita, I
managed to find out what Alfred was doing. He covered his tracks in the
BatComputer *very* well, but once I had the additional aliases provided by
Alfred's time in Sri Lanka, I found it.

"Alfred, alias Thomas Jeffries, took a job for Brit Intel with a
man named Nathanial Williams, who fits Collins' description," she
continued. "By tracing the movements of those two, I found a trail of
files that Alfred accessed. One of them contained information on Marcus
Vickers' family - that was Collins' real name. He had a son named
Nathaniel, and Alfred traced him to a local hotel by presuming he was
using that name." Barbara smiled faintly. "The child's existence was not
mentioned in any of the files that I had hold of previously, which is why
I didn't locate it. Anyway, those files led me to the Bryant Hotel!
That's where he's got to be." 

Batman nodded. "We're not going."

Nightwing and Robin were already turning around to leave the Cave
again when Batman's voice said those words. Whirling back around,
Nightwing demanded, "Why not??"

Bruce stripped off his mask and cowl, then held up the object he'd
picked up off the floor in the apartment where the third shooter had
hidden. "Because Alfred was with the third shooter, who I can only assume
was Marc Collins. I don't know what the Italian had to do with anything,
though. Barbara?" The object was a small, distinctive smoke grenade -
Batman's.

She shook her head. "I still can't track that. I have his name,
and I'm working on it."

Bruce nodded, looking at Robin and Nightwing. "We'll wait for him
to get back and tell us himself."

Dick stripped his mask off, moving to take the pellet and inspect
it. "Alfred was shooting at this guy?" He sounded incredulous. Tim was
just looking completely flabbergasted.

"Of course not, Master Dick. Have you ever known me to do such 
things?"

The mild voice of Alfred Pennyworth had all three vigilantes
spinning to see him standing at the foot of the stairs to the Manor.
Exuberantly, Tim raced over and hugged the butler, Dick hot on his heels.
Bruce appeared relieved, though concerned.

"Alfred!" "Are you okay?" "What happened?" The questions
bombarded the butler from both sides. He returned the affection of the
two younger men readily.

"I'm fine, young sirs, and I appreciate your enthusiastic welcome.
Perhaps we should all sit before I explain."

Dick thumped Alfred gently on the shoulder, scolding lightly.
"You scared the crap out of Bruce, Alfred."

Bruce scowled at his eldest protege, but moved to stand in front
of Alfred and study him intently. "You're well?"

Alfred met Bruce's eyes and nodded. "Quite, young man." The
affection was clear in his voice and face as he spoke to Bruce. "I see
you've found my secret, Miss Barbara. Congratulations. I hadn't expected
to be able to hide it from you this long."

Barbara smiled faintly. "Well, it does explain a few things.
Like why you didn't tell us what was happening. You weren't sure he
wasn't here to kill Bruce either, were you?"

Alfred paused, allowing time for each of the three younger men in
the Cave to retake their seats. "No, Miss Barbara, I was not. It wasn't
until I could verify what his mission orders were that I knew it was
safe."

Dick asked, "So he wasn't the one who shot me?" at the same time
that Tim interjected his question. "Who *was* his target, then?"

Alfred handed Bruce an envelope. "For you, Master Bruce, from
Marcus. He sends his regards, and the letter explains everything." He
looked at the group. "Marcus still works for British Intel, Master Dick.
His assignments do include assassination, but not of innocents. He is,
instead, a hunter of assassins." He shot a faint smile toward Tim. "His
target was the man you found with the bullet through his head. Donovan
Sellers was an unfortunate coincidence."

Bruce opened the envelope and scanned it as Barbara shook her head
on the screen. "Alfred, you always manage to amaze me."

Alfred looked pleased with himself. "Thank you, Miss Barbara.
That's high praise indeed."

Bruce read the letter quietly and the frown that had been marring
his forehead eased. 'Bruce - my apologies for vanishing on you the way I
did. Alfred explained that you thought I might have come after you, and
it was then that I realized you must have taken my message as a threat.
Ampan Sita's death was never your fault. The sorcerer followed _me_ to
his home. I have since hunted him and his followers down and dealt with 
them. I know you don't approve of the methods that I am using in the 
service of my country and the world, so I will not put you in the position 
to have to face me over it. By now, Oracle will have managed to trace 
down my report on that night. If that's not the case, Alfred will be able 
to get hold of it for you. You saved my life that night, which is what I 
meant when I said I wouldn't forget. When I found out that your adopted 
son was the target, I knew I couldn't let someone else take the job. I 
owed you, and someone else might miss. Take care of yourself, and if 
you've need of me, Alfred will know how to find me. ---Jon Baxter/Marc 
Collins'

When Bruce looked up, all eyes were on him. "So just who was his
target, and why was the man targetting Dick?"

Alfred looked at Dick. "You don't know, after seeing him?"

Dick frowned. "He looked ... familiar, but I'm not sure why."
Tim crossed his arms and listened.

Barbara elaborated on her information. "His name is Jorge
Mirelli, and he's an assassin. But that doesn't tell us who hired him."

Alfred nods. "Very good, Miss Barbara. Mirelli *is* a hit man,
and Master Dick could place him for certain with his last target. Do you
remember the Giavinni murder?"

Bruce filled in the details. "Michel Giavinni was killed in the 
bathroom at JFK International Airport 4 months ago, no suspects and no 
witnesses."

Dick snapped his fingers. "I *saw* them! I remember thinking
after I heard about it that I'd _been_ there, and wished I could have done
something. But it happened just after I'd boarded the Wayne jet to Paris
for that conference you wanted me at, Bruce."

Alfred nodded. "Precisely, Master Dick. Mirelli's employer was
not happy. Therefore Mirelli was sent to make sure that you couldn't
point the finger at him, thereby making sure that Mirelli wouldn't turn
over his employer at the time in return for immunity."

Barbara sighed and shook her head. "And Sellers just bungled his
way into the situation without being involved. And he might have gotten a
lucky shot at Dick, had we not already been concerned about the
possibility of a threat."

Bruce looked thoughtful. "Was Collins the shooter at the police 
station?"

"No, Master Bruce. He left a 'message' that Dick was in danger in
the form of a picture at the office. Mirelli was also not the shooter.
Marcus was keeping quite close tabs on him."

Dick nodded slowly and turned to Bruce. "So the Commissioner was
right. What better way to make you suffer than by taking out your son
when you took his?" He sighed. "Sellers was clearly around the bend."

Bruce put a hand on Dick's shoulder. "It's over now. That's all 
that matters." He quirked a half-smile. "And I think your fiancee would
like to make certain of that for herself."

Dick grinned toward the screen. "I'm on my way, Babs." She
returned the smile and said, "Oracle out."

***

Epilogue


Alfred brought Bruce a sandwich and some tea. Young Master
Timothy had gone several hours before, but Bruce was still sitting in
front of the computer studying the report on Ampan Sita's death and Marcus
Vickers' service record. 

"He's credited with kills that aren't his, to boost his reputation
in the mercenary crowd, Alfred."

"Yes, Master Bruce."

Bruce turned to look at Alfred. "And you condone what he does?"

Alfred looked steadily back at his eldest 'son.' "Master Bruce...
life in the Intel business can be quite ugly, as you well know. I myself
chose to keep my assignments to the bloodless variety when possible. I
did, however, carry a gun and occasionally was forced to use it. I do not
condone killing, however Marcus provides a very valuable service. If he
had *not* been doing what he's doing, it's highly likely that Master Dick
would be dead."

Bruce nodded slowly. "You know how I feel about guns. But I
can't say I'm sorry about what happened to Mirelli." He sighed, clearly
conflicted by the situation. His savage elation to know that Dick was no
longer a target because he was no threat to Mirelli's employers was
tempered by his hatred of the fact that his friend was doing a job so
against what Bruce himself believed.

Alfred placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "I can't say I'm sorry
either, Master Bruce. When I thought Marcus was the threat to you... even
though I have worked with him before, I was quite ready to do him serious
bodily harm. It is just what happens when loved ones are threatened." He
smiled faintly.

Bruce smiled at the butler. "Alfred... how did he know that
Oracle would be able to tell me?"

Alfred smiled his enigmatic smile. "I have a feeling, Master
Bruce, that Marcus knows quite a lot more about you than you realize. But
he will keep your secrets. I got the impression he quite admired Batman.
Good night, sir."

As the butler left, Bruce shook his head slightly. He knew what
Alfred had done before he worked for the Waynes, but he'd never really
realized how much the older man missed it. It was clear from his actions
in the past several days that the butler enjoyed the adrenaline rush. He
hoped next time Alfred would leave a note or something. "Good night,
Alfred."

THE END