Charlotte: Thank you! Thrilled to hear you're enjoying!
AUSTINROX5 : Thanks! Here's Chapter 17 for you!
angelamorales514: I must warn you, their relationship is always doomed to get worse before it gets better. Or the other way around. (Doomed to get better before it gets worse). But really glad you're enjoying!
CHAPTER 17
Bruce was careful to keep at enough of a distance that Derek did not notice him, but close enough that he was within sight at all times.
Derek made his way slowly toward the display room, stopping to pick up an olive on a toothpick from a passing waiter. He popped it into his mouth. Bruce checked his watch. It was 8:09 PM. Derek was supposed to be the last to arrive of the three men, which meant that Gordon, who was monitoring the criminals and making sure his men were on them, should give the signal any minute now.
Derek entered the display room, pausing to look at the first display with feigned interest. Bruce stopped next to the 2000 year-old preserved bread, pretending to inspect it closely. Derek moved down the line of display cases, occasionally stopping to look at one exhibit or another. Bruce thought he was doing a minimal job at pretending to be interested in the displays; the movements were right: Walk, pause, examine. Walk, pause, examine. But his face showed supreme boredom.
Finally, Derek came to a standstill next to the replica of the Queen's necklace. At this, he appeared genuinely curious. Bruce watched his eyes flick around the display case and could almost see his mind racing, going over his plan to take the piece of jewelry. Bruce glanced at his watch again. 8:17 PM. What was taking so long? Why hadn't Gordon paged them yet?
He began calculating his own strategy for taking down Derek Runyen. Derek was a big, muscular man. If Bruce could knock him out immediately by getting in close and striking the Vagus Nerve, it would be a clean and effective job. No one else around (there were another seven people in the display room) would need to get hurt, or ever be in danger of getting injured.
Bruce took a step closer to Derek. He checked his watch. 8:22 PM. Surely, everyone had arrived by now and everything was in place?
Derek also checked his watch. Then he straightened his tie.
BANG.
In an instant, they were all plunged into darkness. There were a few surprised screams. Bruce started. What was he supposed to do? Did Gordon plan on having the lights go out? He was supposed to wait to be paged-
His breast pocket buzzed.
There it was.
He turned his attention to Derek, eyes still adjusting to the sudden darkness. He could just barely make out his hunched form, kneeling with a screw-driver, reaching forward to remove a glass plate from the display.
BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR.
A loud, ringing alarm sounded, echoing throughout the event hall. Derek had tripped the alarm on the display case. The thief looked up, surprised; he had not been expecting the alarm to go off.
BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR.
Their eyes met. Derek realized Bruce was onto him. He punched through the glass with one blow, grabbing the rhinestone necklace, his fist bloodied and shards of glass littering the floor.
BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR.
Bruce attacked, moving forward fluidly so his body weight was concentrated into his fist and slammed Derek in the chest. Derek stumbled back against the table. Bruce aimed a heavy blow toward his exposed neck, but Derek had adapted quicker than Bruce anticipated and managed to block the blow, simultaneously shoving him away.
BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR.
Derek ran for the entrance of the display room. Bruce found his balance quickly and charged after. He dived for Derek's legs, wrapping his arms around them in an effective tackle. Derek fell to the floor, face first. Bruce wasted no time locking Derek's arms behind his back and slipping on a pair of handcuffs.
BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR.
Derek twisted beneath him, trying to get free. For good measure, Bruce rammed the base of his palm against the sensitive nerve in Derek's neck and watched as he stopped struggling and his face slumped forward.
BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR.
Bruce looked up, out the entranceway to the main event hall. There seemed to be utter chaos. People were trying to get out of the hall, but couldn't, not realizing the building was on lockdown. A few beams of light appeared in the crowd and Bruce realized some people, probably police officers, had gotten hold of flashlights. They seemed to be directing people and telling them to remain calm.
BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR.
The alarms were still ringing loudly. A beam of light fell over Bruce's face and the holder of the flashlight came toward him. It was Gordon.
"What's going on?" Bruce asked, getting to his feet.
Gordon shone the light on Derek's crumpled form, then looked up at Bruce. "Slight problem," he said. "We lost the guy who tripped the lights. Thought he was heading to the breaker room, but then no trace of him. Don't know where he went or what he did to the lights. He tripped everything, but when we flipped the breaker back on, nothing happened." Gordon sounded harried.
BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR.
Gordon motioned quickly for two passing officers to come and had them move Derek Runyen's body to a safer location.
Bruce followed Gordon into the main hall. They walked up to another officer, who handed Bruce an extra flashlight.
Gordon pulled a photo from his pocket. "This is the guy. Benjamin Brown. We're doing a methodical sweep of this floor to look for him."
BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR.
Bruce shone his light on the photo. Benjamin was a tan guy, with dark hair and dark eyes. High cheekbones, and a flat nose.
"You take that corner," Gordon indicated the hot drink section of the room. "And we're trying to keep people in the dance area. That section's been cleared, so if we can get everyone there, it'll make our job easier."
Bruce set off, keeping the flashlight low, but high enough that he could still make out faces without shining the light in anyone's eyes. He instructed civilian stragglers he passed to head to the back section of the hall, where people who were not Benjamin Brown, were slowly making their way to.
BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR.
He directed his light at the long coffee tables, with floor-length tablecloths. There wasn't much to look at there, except the big urns and varied tea and coffee assortments. He turned the light to face the entrance of the display room, which was now empty. An odd movement caught his eye and he turned the light back to the coffee tables. One of the beige tablecloths was rustling in an unnatural manner. As if… as if there was someone behind it. Bruce edged closer, training the flashlight slightly upward. He didn't want whoever was down there – if there was someone – knowing he was onto them.
He came closer still, watching a pair of hands slowly appear at the bottom of the fabric, grasping it, and slowly lifted it up. A face looked out, eyes darting around. It was Benjamin Brown.
"He's here!" Bruce shouted.
Benjamin's face looked up, terrified, and he made a run for it - exactly what Bruce had hoped for. Bruce was on him in seconds, and his call had about seven other officers surrounding them instantly.
"Nice one, Bruce," Gordon said as Bruce pinned Benjamin's arms behind his back. Another officer stepped forward with a pair of handcuffs, taking over.
BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR.
Gordon looked around, lips pursed. "Well, that's everyone. But how did he put those damn lights out?"
Bruce got wearily to his feet. His long day was beginning to catch up to him. "Well, we can ask him," he said.
"No need." Miles Conway stepped forward, a grin on his face. "I figured it out. The easiest way to trip a breaker is to plug a faulty electric charge into a wall socket. It'll trip everything, and nothing will turn back on until it's removed. He probably plugged something into a wall socket around here. In fact, I'd venture to guess there's a wall socket under the table he was hiding under."
They walked toward the table, sat against the wall, and Gordon lifted the cloth all the way up. Sure enough, stuck in the socket that had been concealed by the table was a big black box that definitely wasn't supposed to be there. Miles reached underneath, gently extracting it from the wall. Within seconds, the lights around began to turn back on.
Gordon looked impressed. "Good thinking, Miles."
Conway grinned, patting Bruce on the back. "I couldn't let Bruce take all the credit for everything today."
Bruce smiled good naturedly.
BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR. BHIRRRRRR.
"Speaking of which," Gordon said, turning to Bruce. "You look like you could use a good night's sleep. You're welcome to go. We'll finish up here."
Bruce waved his offer away. "No need. I'll stick around till everything's back in order. Probably won't be long." Bruce checked his watch. It was only 8:35 PM. Had it really only been 13 minutes since the lights had gone out?
It took another few minutes before someone was able to turn the ringing alarms off. Bruce watched as the three criminals were escorted out, and Gordon sent his officers around, some checking on the gala attendees to make sure no one was suffering from too much shock, one to go attend the Queen's necklace as an added security measure, and some to help clean up the mess that the whole undertaking had caused.
Bruce was helping shepherd guests back to their tables, when he spotted a familiar face leaning against the wall of the dance floor, holding a shoeless foot. He approached quickly, concerned.
"Selina, are you alright?"
She looked up, a pained expression on her face, breath labored. "Yeah, I'm – I'm okay. Just, someone shoved past me when the lights went off and I fell, think I twisted my ankle." She forced a smile. "I'll be fine. I'm just extra sensitive now, especially when it comes to foot-injuries."
Bruce nodded, crouching beside her. "You're sure you're okay? I can have Alfred take you home."
She shook her head. "No, no, that really won't be necessary. I'll probably get a taxi in a few minutes anyway." She gave a small shudder, looking around. "Not as exciting as I thought it would be," she said. "Mostly people just screaming in the dark." She wrinkled her nose.
Bruce grinned, holding out a hand to help her to her feet. "Come on. I'll call you a taxi."
Selina started to protest, but Bruce insisted. He let Gordon know he would be back shortly and returned to Selina. Her limp seemed worse than he had ever seen it, and they decided to leave through the kitchens, which was the most direct path to a road. Bruce wondered how many set backs she would have before she could be walking normally again.
They reached the street, making light chatter. It felt very comfortable between them. Bruce waited with Selina until her taxi came, and watched her get in.
"I'll still see you Saturday?" Bruce asked.
Selina raised an eyebrow in amusement. "I haven't changed my plans, have you?"
"No. No. Of course not." Bruce shook his head as Selina instructed the driver to take her to Concord Towers. The taxi rolled down the street.
Bruce watched it leave, slightly amused. Somehow, with Selina, things never went the way he would have planned. But he enjoyed their relationship for what it was, whatever it was. Things were never dull between them. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Bruce returned to the gala upstairs.
Gordon seemed to have things mostly under control. A large portion of the attendees were seated at tables now, being served their main course as if nothing unusual had just happened. Gordon was speaking with the museum director, and beckoned Bruce over.
Ms. Marge, whom Bruce had met once before, eagerly stepped forward to shake Bruce's hand. "Detective Gordon has just told me how you single-handedly stopped all the robberies here. I am truly grateful."
Bruce shifted in place. "Er, thank you. I can't take credit for that though, there was a whole team of people doing their jobs here. "
"Oh, I hear it was a lot more than that." Ms. Marge thanked him again, a wide smile on her face. Then she turned, nodding to Gordon, and walked off.
Bruce took a step closer to the detective.
"How's Selina?" Gordon asked, looking at Bruce. "Is she ok?"
"Yeah. Yeah," Bruce couldn't help the smile on his face. "She's good. A real fighter."
Gordon gave a knowing smile. "Glad things are good between you two," he said.
"Now, what is that supposed to mean, Detective?" Bruce asked, a twinkle in his eye.
Gordon grinned and shook his head. "Nothing, nothing. One moment-" he pulled his ringing phone out of his pocket. "Let me just get this – Hello?"
Bruce watched as Gordon's brows drew together seriously, his expression grave. "Uh huh. I understand. I'll have my men on it right away." He hung up, expression troubled, and turned to Bruce. He paused, forehead tense. He seemed to be in a state of confusion and shock.
Bruce waited.
"It seems…" Gordon started slowly, "…that Ronan Sionis cannot be accounted for in the hospital."
Bruce frowned, suddenly alert. "What do you mean?"
"Not cuffed to his bed like he's supposed to be. And there's a locked exit door that's been broken open. They think he's escaped."
Bruce drew in a deep breath. He felt a strong feeling of frustration in his gut, like they were back at square one. All his hours of effort had gone out the window.
Gordon shook his head. "Well, I better get some people on that right away," he said. "Sionis was shot in the leg, so he shouldn't have gotten too far or be too hard to find." He craned his neck, looking around for officers. The elevator doors buzzed beside them, and Miles Conway walked out, an anxious look on his face.
"Miles," Gordon said. "You're actually just the man I want to see. Listen, we've got a situation-" he noticed Conway's unsettled look and slowed to a stop.
"Jim, there were two necklaces down in the vault, right?" Conway asked, agitated.
Gordon nodded slowly, anticipating the worst. "Yes. Why?"
Conway swallowed, glancing at Bruce, then back to Gordon. "I've looked everywhere. There's only one down there right now."