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Chapter 7 - The Conversation

The diner was deserted: it was the dead hour between the breakfast rush and the lunch crowd. Shift change was happening over at the station, and since the small coffee shop catered almost exclusively to Bludhaven�s finest, the place was as dead as disco.

The Silver Side Up Diner had opened before the Miranda case, back before Rodney King and Serpico when cops were free to beat confessions out of suspects and deny people their one phone call. Those brutal days were a fresh memory in Bludhaven. Most of the city�s small police force thought of the golden era of carte-blanche law-enforcement with sighs of longing.

Slam eyed the few late-morning patrons over a cup of black, bitter coffee. His mood hadn�t improved during the drive down from Gotham and shooting the breeze with a bunch of old cops who carried throw-down pieces and took a cut from the hookers in Desolation Row didn�t appeal to him.

Slam had cop friends all over the tri-county area. It was a necessity in his line of work. A licensed PI depended on the police for survival. They were a lifeline to facts, case files and info even the media didn�t have access to. Didn�t mean Slam had to like them, or how they earned their dirty money. And the Gotham cops were sainted angels compared to the �Haven uniforms.

The bell above the door jingled, a soft, pretty sound in the geared-for-testosterone furnishings of the diner. Slam stood a little and waved at Holly. The kid was looking around, nervous at being so close to an old beat cop wolfing down the platter special at the counter. She relaxed once Slam caught her attention and crossed the restaurant, sliding into the booth across from him.

He knew Holly was undercover, trying to blend in with the street girls they were hoping to find, but her appearance still shocked him. Her short, brightly-colored hair was dull and matted and she�d clearly been wearing the same baggy, shapeless clothing and filthy combat boots for a week. There were deep shadows beneath her eyes and Slam could only guess at what she�d been eating.

�Hey, kiddo,� Slam smiled, turning over the coffee cup on the saucer in front of Holly and gesturing for the waitress. Holly looked him over carefully.

�Where�s Selina?� she asked immediately. Slam shrugged and lit a cigarette, his metal Zippo clicking empty. Almost out of fuel.

�She couldn�t make it down,� Slam explained, keeping his voice level. Holly narrowed her eyes.

�You two had a fight, didn�t you?� she asked, sipping hungrily at the coffee. Slam pointed out a few things on the menu to the hovering waitress, who nodded and left them alone.

�I brought you the info you wanted,� Slam tried.

Holly�s eyes flashed. She was more stubborn than Slam. �Tell me what happened.�

Slam sighed deeply in surrender, taking a short drag on his cigarette. Why did all of the women in his life have to be this pushy? �Don�t�don�t make a big thing out of it, okay? We were just angry with each other. People fight.�

�And what do �people� fight about?� Holly asked, sounding like Selina. Slam knew she hated being spoken to as a child. After all, Holly was almost nineteen, but Slam still thought of her as a little sister. And he was firmly convinced that there were some things you didn�t discuss with a kid.

Holly kicked him gently under the table and Slam finally answered the question. �She�s sleeping with him.�

Holly�s expression didn�t change, but her eyes hardened a little. �Who?�

�The pointy-eared control freak,� Slam informed her, sipping at his own coffee. Holly slumped back in the booth, her hands falling away from the warm mug before her.

�When did this happen?�

�Dunno,� Slam replied. �Since last night, anyway. But with Selina, it�s hard to tell.�

Holly nodded slightly in agreement. Selina�s behavior defied all rationalization, even at the best of times. It was one of the things Holly loved about her.

�Is it�serious?� she asked as Slam lit another Duke, a contraband cigarette brought up from the tobacco country in North Carolina and sold on the black market for fifty percent retail. Slam hated paying federal taxes on cigarettes, and so he smoked whatever was on the truck that week.

�I don�t think even she knows,� he replied. �But it�s bad, isn�t it?�

�Bad for her or bad for us?� Holly asked, wrapping her cold fingers around the warm coffee cup. Slam wanted to respond with a clichéd �what�s-bad-for-her-IS-bad-for-us� statement, but he kept his mouth shut. Holly continued. �If he�s as good as he�s supposed to be, there�s probably not a lot he doesn�t know. And Selina wouldn�t say anything if she thought he could touch us with it, use the work to hurt the mission.�

Slam nodded at the subtext buried beneath Holly�s coded language. The work was what they did for survival, operating in a gray area where they were too slick for the Gotham PD and not big enough to attract the Batman�s interest. Scams, robberies, forgeries - Selina�s work, what she was best at. Most of it bled into what they called the Mission, the crusade to help people in the East End. Working as a team, Selina, Slam and Holly cheated drug dealers and stole from the Mafia, funneling the profits into community interests like Leslie Tompkins�s Crime Alley Clinic and the ill-fated East End Community Center.

They had smaller, less dangerous stuff on the side. Slam had a nice scam going with on with would-be mercenaries, promising to connect white-pride psychos with race wars in Africa or South America in exchange for a fee. The whole thing was done through trade ads in hate newspapers and ended in blind mail drops. Slam collected the score and the White Nation was short another soldier. No big loss.

What made Slam nervous were the bigger jobs, things like taking down dirty borough cops or going after the drug kingpins of the East End. The payoffs were bigger but the risk was sky-high. Selina had always shrugged off the thought of reprisal from mobsters or gangs in the East End, at least until they�d taken down the Black Mask�s operation and had nearly gone down themselves.

Since then, they�d played it safe with strictly small-time busts. Slam knew Selina was getting hungry for bigger prey again. She was the greatest thief he�d ever known and she should have been pulling international jobs with a top crew instead of working out of a burnt-out old PI�s office with a goodhearted doctor and a recovering heroin addict crewing. It made him sad sometimes, to consider what Selina might have been if she hadn�t been raised by a bunch of freaks. But then, he wondered the same of most people in Gotham.

�Slam?� Holly asked. �Earth to Slam. Come in, Mr. Bradley��

�Creesus! I�m listening to you, okay?� Slam said quickly, wondering how long he�d been lost. More than a few minutes, given the concerned expression on Holly�s face. He frowned, stamping out a half-finished Duke. �I wish she�d choose her friends a little more carefully,� Slam muttered with ironic emphasis on �friends�. �He can�t approve of what it is we do, can he? I mean, he can�t approve of her if half the stuff said about him is true.�

Holly was quiet, trying to find answers at the bottom of her cup of cold, black caffeine. �You don�t think he loves her?�

Slam furrowed his brow, pretending to think it over. He marveled at Holly�s ability to believe in a thing like love, given her history.

�I�m not sure a guy like that knows how to love. Something like that is a priority in life, especially with a woman like Selina. I don�t think the Bat is capable of the kind of choices you need to make to build a life with someone.�

�What makes you say that?� Holly asked, not arguing, listening.

�He comes from the same place she does.� Slam�s blue eyes were cobalt, hard and flat. �In that place, there�s a price for survival, and that�s your capacity for trust.�

�Is that�� Holly hesitated, biting her lower lip. �Is that why you and Selina��

Slam sighed, his shoulders slumping. He�d spent a lot of time wondering when the squirt was going to ask about that.

�It wasn�t Selina�s fault,� he told her, eager to take the blame for the whole mess himself. �I should have known better. I know how she came up, Holly,� Slam said, thinking of the smoking remains of that Chronicle file. �It wasn�t right to get close to her the way I did. Real intimacy can�t happen if you�re only doing something somebody once paid you to do.�

Holly nodded. She knew better than Slam that sex never meant anything to Selina other than a meal ticket; Holly had felt the same way. They�d both seen it all and done most of it for money and Holly didn�t romanticize it, at least until Karon�

�I just�I just need to know if he�ll hurt her,� Slam whispered. �You�ve had more experience with him than me.�

Holly was silent, her thoughts lost some twelve years in the past. �Maggie liked him,� she said quietly. �She thought�she thought he could save Selina.�

�When did he ever meet Maggie? I thought-�

�Selina never told you?� Holly asked, shaking her head in amazement.

�I didn�t want to ask about the past,� Slam told her truthfully. �It never mattered to me anyway.�

�She met him when Selina and I were still working the streets. We belonged to a pimp named Stan.�

�Belonged?� Slam asked, raising an eyebrow. It was difficult to imaging anyone owning a woman like Selina.

�Sure,� Holly replied, her tone dark with disgust. �Way it is out on the street, people are owned like they�re a pet or a piece of furniture. Stan owned us. I worked the streets for him, but Selina got moved inside.�

Slam had kept company with enough call girls to understand the distinction. The difference between hooking on the street and working a specialty business indoors was like working at McDonald�s instead of a four-star restaurant. The money was about the same, but there was a different kind of status attached to it. And in the specialty sex trade, the tips were better.

Holly continued with her story. �One day, Stan beat up Selina pretty bad. Raped her and dumped her in the alleyway behind some church. That�s when all this started.� Holly gestured with a sweeping motion; Slam guessed she meant Catwoman and the assorted Gotham lunacy that came with being one of Batman�s rouges.

�Selina got a phone number from some cop. That�s how she met Ted Grant, learned how to take care of herself. And we left Stan.� Holly�s eyes darkened. �I know Selina only meant to scare him�but when she�s angry, she�s capable of anything. She scratched his face up pretty bad, and Stan wanted blood in return. So he took Maggie.�

�I thought they hadn�t seen each other since the state had separated them,� Stan asked, smoking quietly, digesting the story.

�They met by accident,� Holly told him. �Maggie was at a convent in Gotham, preparing to take her final vows. They ran into each other, and I guess Stan overheard them talking. He grabbed Maggie to hurt Selina. But that was a bad move,� Holly said, getting into it. �Kidnapping a citizen, a nun, got Batman on the case.�

�And that�s how he met Maggie? Trying to rescue her from some two-bit pimp?�

Holly nodded. �Stan was a little crazy. Selina found him first, holed up in some abandoned theater in the Bowery. Batman got there just in time to save Maggie from a hundred-foot fall off a catwalk.�

�And Stan?�

Holly shrugged. �Stan tripped. Or maybe he fell. Maggie didn�t see it, and Selina never really told me what happened.�

�So maybe she killed him,� Slam concluded. Holly nodded warily. �And the Batman knows all this? Kid, you�ve heard the same rumors I have. The Batman doesn�t kill, and he�d never look the other way if it came to murder. Selina couldn�t be guilty.�

�Maybe that�s why Maggie liked him,� Holly finished, making her point. �Because he didn�t take Selina down for what happened to Stan.�

Slam lit another cigarette. �But he tried to bring her down after that, didn�t he? Not for Stan, but for other things��

�If he�d really been trying,� Holly interrupted, shooting him a look that Slam knew women rehearsed in their mirrors, �he would have succeeded. I�ve heard the same things you have, remember? He doesn�t do mercy, at least for criminals, but he believes in justice. And he knows that Selina doesn�t belong in prison.�

�Or maybe he�s just playing with her until he takes her down for real,� Slam theorized through a cloud of smoke. �We don�t know. But if Maggie vouches for him, and Leslie�we�ll just have to trust the judgment of our betters, kid.� Slam didn�t sound convinced, and Holly didn�t look as if she bought it either. The waitress finally came by and Holly flashed a smile, digging into the food set down before her.

Slam requested another cup of coffee, checking his watch. �About the info you requested�that cop is going to be here soon. I�ll give you the highlights now, and you tell me what you think.� Slam pulled out a thick sheaf of papers from the briefcase on the seat beside him and plopped them down on the Formica tabletop with an air of authority.

�Your friend�s got quite a history,� he told her. Holly glared at him, one of her attempts at intimidation that made Slam want to tweak her nose or pinch her cheek. She was so young.

�He�s not my �friend�,� Holly clarified. �You know how I feel about�them.� She inclined her head towards the uniforms sitting at the counter, not touching the folder. Holly was sitting in the middle of the Bludhaven PD�s favorite diner, one of �their� places, enemy territory for a girl who had been beaten, molested and intimidated by men carrying badges since she was eight. Uniforms made Holly nervous, but she didn�t trust plainclothes detectives either. Two of them had put a bullet in her arm last year.

�Why are you interested in this rookie anyway?� Slam asked. �You didn�t explain on the phone.�

�I don�t know if I can explain it,� Holly said quickly, nodding her thanks to the waitress for a refill of her coffee. Holly then dumped enough sugar into the hot brown liquid to make Slam�s teeth ache. �This mask�he helped me out of a tough spot a few days ago, and he vouched for the cop. Said if anyone could help me find those missing girls, this Officer Grayson could get it done.�

�Look, kid, what makes you think a cop could figure this mess out when we couldn�t? I can�t make heads or tails of it, and you haven�t been able to make an ID.� Holly lowered her eyes at the reminder of her failure, and Slam�s mouth tensed. He touched her hand and Holly looked up. �I�m just saying that we�ve got our ear closer to the street than any cop in Bludhaven or Gotham. If we can�t crack this thing, one of them sure as hell isn�t going to. I think you�d have a better shot with a mask than teaming with some uniform beat cop.�

�Maybe I�m tired of working with masks,� Holly said softly. Slam narrowed his eyes but said nothing. He pushed the folder towards her gently.

�Well, you�re in luck. Grayson doesn�t sound like your typical cop, anyway.�

Holly flipped the folder open, scanning the first page of Slam�s thick report. She read the first page aloud. �Officer Richard D. Grayson, Bludhaven PD. Rank of lieutenant. He�s young,� she said, and Slam tried not to smile. Grayson was a few years older than Holly.

�They usually don�t get Lieutenant so quickly, but he was shot in the line of duty so they pinned a medal on his chest,� Slam explained.

�Looks familiar,� Holly muttered, examining an Academy shot of Grayson in full dress uniform. He was handsome, light blue eyes sparkling with a promise of fun even in the serious graduation portrait.

�He should,� Slam said, leaning across the table to flip to the next page. �Guess whose son he is.�

Holly�s eyes scanned the report, widening in surprise. �Wayne? He�s Bruce Wayne�s kid?�

�Adopted, and only recently. Selina�s millionaire bachelor seems to collect kids,� Slam said off-handedly. �Grayson�s parents died in an accident when he was pretty young. Wayne raised him but they had some kind of falling-out, and Wayne took in a new kid, Todd something. Most of this has been pretty well buried, especially what happened to the newer one.�

�What happened?� Holly asked, flipping back to Grayson�s picture.

�Died overseas,� Slam replied. �I have a friend at Family Services who says they�re investigating Wayne for evidence of child abuse. Seems Grayson had a long stay in hospital about ten years ago. Someone nearly beat him to death with a baseball bat.�

Holly dropped the file on the table in disgust. �Selina never mentioned any of this to me. When she talks about Wayne at all, I always got the impression that he was a nice guy.�

Slam shrugged. �She and Wayne were over by the time he started playing den mother. And anyway, there�s nothing conclusive in the file. Family Services is gonna have a hell of a time making a case against Wayne on circumstantial evidence alone, especially after what happened to him last year with that murder case. The law in Gotham is going to need something rock-solid before they go after Wayne again.�

�Do you really think he�hurt Grayson and the other boy?� Holly asked, feeling sorry for Grayson even though he was a cop.

�I don�t know, kid. Maybe you could ask him,� Slam suggested, pocketing his cigarettes and gathering up the newspaper he�d been reading before Holly came in. �Read over the file after you meet with him. Decide for yourself. And Holly,� Slam warned, �Don�t feel too sorry for him. Remember he stands to inherit about a quarter of a billion dollars after Wayne kicks off.�

Holly nodded, still looking at the file in her hands. The upcoming meeting with Grayson had just gotten more interesting.