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"Special?" the doctor asked.
But The Joker wasn't telling.
"Let's say I have someone in mind."
Part III
Send in The Clones
22
Bruce Wayne pulled his sportscar up in front of the main office of the Gotham Fish
Company. It was out by the docks, a quarter of the city that was deserted at this time of
night. The Joker still knew how to pick his locations.
Bruce checked his watch: 7:45. He was fashionably late. The sort of thing one would
expect from a millionaire playboy.
A big, burly fellow in a business suit rushed out from the front door.
"Ah, Mr. Wayne. So good of you to come."
Bruce set the alarm system in his Porsche, then locked the door.
"No trouble."
"I realize this is all a bit unorthodox," the burly fellow said. "You didn't have any
trouble finding the place?"
"No trouble," Bruce replied. He noticed the other man made no move to introduce
himself.
"Good, good," the other man said. "I think you'll be quite surprised by what we have in
store."
"I don't know about that," Bruce answered as he followed the other man inside. "I don't
surprise easily."
Finally Wayne had arrived. Samson just wanted to get this over with.
The whole setup was a bit more elaborate than the kind he usually liked. For some
reason it had taken The Joker more effort than usual to get this place cleared out. And
Samson decided he needed help. Samson hated to cut anybody in on the action, but
sometimes, especially in a place as big as this, assistants were necessary. Besides, his
information told him that Wayne was athletically built and fast on his feet. Usually,
Samson could take these guys just with the element of surprise, but it didn't hurt to have an
extra pair of fists around.
So all he had to do now as wait for George to bring the mark around.
"You!" somebody yelled behind him.
What the hell was this? Samson spun around. It was some guy in a guard's uniform.
The Joker's information hadn't told him about any watchmen.
"What are you doing here?" the watchmen demanded. "Don't you know this is holy
property?"
Uh-oh. Even worse. This wasn't any ordinary watchman. This was one of Droll's
crazies.
"Hey," Samson said in a low voice. "Reverend Droll sent me to take a look around.
I'm sort of a safety inspector."
But the crazy was having none of it. "Liar! You are an enemy of the Joke! The
Reverend Droll must be---"
There was a soft thunk as Samson shot him. The crazy fell over, quiet at last. Jeez.
Didn't these religious guys have any sense of humor?
But now Samson had no time to get rid of the body. He would have to jump Wayne the
minute George brought him into the room, before their latest victim had any chance to get
suspicious.
Maybe, Samson thought, he should retire from this sort of thing. And maybe he would,
after he got to do Gordon.
Bruce's guide led him into the interior of the plant. He kept up a constant line of patter.
"My superiors are waiting for you up in the office. They've put out quite a spread for
you." He chuckled appreciatively. "You'd never believe how many kinds of fish they've
got! Since I've got to take you through the plant to get there anyway, they suggested I give
you a little bit of a tour."
Bruce wondered where this guy came from. His spiel was almost good enough to be
believable. He probably spent most of his time talking little old ladies out of their social
security checks.
"Now, if you'll just follow me," the guide said as he turned left, "I'll show you the
processing plant."
There was another noise up ahead that had nothing to do with processing. Someone was
screaming about a joke, and the Reverend Droll. The noise cut off abruptly after a sharp
sound that might have been a muffled gunshot.
His guide smiled apologetically. "A little trouble with the help," the burly man
explained. "It's so difficult to get people to clean fish these days."
Bruce thought they'd be more professional than this. Apparently they had found it so
easy to abduct Gotham City's leading citizens, they were getting sloppy. He decided it was
time to get his guide to work for his pay.
"I'm sorry," he said as he stopped abruptly. "I don't think I have the time for a tour of
your plant. The invitation said your superiors were willing to make me a very substantial
offer. I'm not the sort of person to be kept waiting. If I do not hear the offer within the
next two minutes, I'm leaving."
"Of course, of course, we certainly don't want to waste your time." The guide bustled
over and grabbed Bruce's arm. That was perfect. Bruce had him just where he wanted
him. "It's really not that far. Just through that door up ahead."
The door up ahead? That's where the others would be waiting. It was nice of his guide
to tell him. Bruce took a deep breath, readying himself for action.
"Right through here," the guide instructed as he slowed his step. They wanted Bruce to
go in here first.
It was a shame he wouldn't oblige. He grabbed on to the guide's arm and fell away from
him, using his weight to pull the startled man around and in front of him.
A man came out of the shadows ahead. The man held a gun. Bruce threw the two men
together. The man with the gun yelled and tried to regain his balance, while Bruce's guide
fell to the floor.
They'd expect Bruce to run now. So Bruce did the unexpected---he ran straight toward
them.
He hit the gunman's wrists with the flat of his hand, and the gun went flying across the
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