A/N: Just an idea I've had kicking around...

A/N: Thanks to Kathy for the beta!

Disclaimer: Batman/Bruce Wayne was created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger and is owned by DC Comics. Dick Grayson was created by Bob Kane, Bill Finger, and Jerry Robinson and is owned by DC Comics. Nightwing was created by Marv Wolfman and George Perez and is the property of DC Comics. Daredevil was created by Stan Lee and Bill Everett and is the property of Marvel Comics. I am receiving no financial remuneration for this work of fanfiction.

Timeline: Daredevil near the end of Volume 1. Batman post-Knightsend, pre-No Man's Land.

Under the Radar

"Wow," Dick said. "So, what did you say?"

Bruce shook his head, walked to the hotel window, and pushed aside the draperies with his hand, and looked out on Water Street. "What could I say? I couldn't very well tell him the truth."

Dick laughed. "Yeah. I guess, 'The reason they found my fingerprints in that office was because I needed someplace secluded to get out of my costume' wouldn't have gone over too well." His expression turned serious. "You just had to find an office that someone had burglarized, right?"

Bruce scowled. "It wasn't burglarized. Someone got in, hacked the computer and, presumably, copied confidential data that will give them an advantage in the stock market over the next little while. The hacker got sloppy and triggered an alert. There are security cameras in the office; I was able to detect them and shield myself appropriately. Unfortunately, that made the presence of my fingerprints appear all the more suspicious."

"Wait... wouldn't they have caught the hacker, too?"

"They did," Bruce sighed. "Male, about my height and build, wearing a knitted cap pulled low over his head and a bulky jacket. They didn't get his face. But they did get mine."

"I thought you said you were shielded."

"In the office," Bruce replied. "Once I was back in street clothes, I headed back to the banquet hall to rejoin the others. As soon as I was out of the restricted zone, I turned off the jammer. And..."

"Don't tell me," Dick groaned. "You missed a camera."

"Oracle's information about the building's security systems appears to have been out of date," Bruce replied. "There was at least one camera that doesn't show up on the most-recently-uploaded floor plan. There could be more. However, the relevant device was facing the door that led to that restricted zone. It was about halfway down the hall. The fact that it captured me looking around to ensure that the coast was clear did not help my case." He shook his head. "The police questioned me. I thought I could handle it without an attorney present. Rae's vacationing in the Alps right now. While she would have cut that short and flown in, she probably wouldn't have made it to New York before tomorrow." He held up a hand irritably. "I know. Don't say it. So, after they accepted that they didn't have enough evidence to hold me, they advised me not to leave town—and to find a good lawyer. I thought someone local might be to my advantage and Nelson and Murdock came highly recommended."

Dick nodded. "Okay, that makes sense. So you dropped by their offices..."

"I called first," Bruce corrected him. "I wasn't going to waste my time if they couldn't see me today, but I was told that Murdock could fit me in. He listened to my story and then..."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne." Matt Murdock rolled his chair back several inches from the desk, as though he wished to distance himself physically from the situation. "I can't assist you."

Bruce's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I," Murdock said in a voice that was calm, yet bristling with suppressed anger. "You come into my office with a serious issue. You realize that the situation puts you in a bad light. I tell you that in order to help you, I need to understand the facts of the case. And yet, Mr. Wayne, not only have you left out information that could be vital; you've lied to me twice in the space of ten minutes."

Bruce flinched. "I..."

"Can you tell me what you were doing in that area?"

Bruce was silent.

"Mr. Wayne? I'm blind, remember? I can't tell if you're nodding or shaking your head. I need you to answer me."

Bruce sighed. "I told you," he repeated. "I took a wrong turn."

"Get out."

"Wow," Dick repeated. "So, did you find someone else?"

Bruce shook his head. "By then, it was after four. I called a few other firms, but they weren't able to fit me in at that hour. They invited me to book an appointment, but the earliest time any of them could see me would be next week. I suppose," he added dryly, "that if their services are in such high demand, one can hope that they'll get results." He sighed. "At this point, I'm tempted to call Rae after all."

"Has she been to the Alps before?"

"I don't believe so."

"She'll hate you if she has to cut her trip short."

"I know." Bruce sighed again. "I suppose," he said, "it couldn't hurt to go back and check out that office again. The hacker might have left something incriminating behind."

"Mmmhmm," Dick nodded. "Just the hacker?"

Bruce made a face. "I doubt I was any sloppier than I already know," he retorted. "But another sweep of the room probably wouldn't go amiss."

"Want some backup?"

"Not tonight," Bruce said. "Get some sleep. Or patrol if you're feeling restless. I'll see you later."

Dick resisted the urge to tell him to be careful. Bruce had to be kicking himself enough already. Saying something like that would only set the bigger man off, and they'd been getting along so well lately. He sighed, reached for the phone, and dialed a number.

"Donna?" He grinned at the pleasure in her voice. "Hey, yourself. I'm in New York for a few days. Business trip and father-son bonding. Only Bruce had something else to do tonight. Did you want to—yeah, sure, coffee sounds great. See you in an hour? Looking forward..."

Batman swung across the Manhattan skyline, drawing ever closer to the offices of Baron and Baron Trading. He angrily suppressed a thought about the guilty party always returning to the scene of the crime. He needed answers and there was only one place he could get them.

The building was coming into view now. He frowned, trying to pinpoint the office through which he'd entered earlier that day. It had been on the west side, thirty-one floors up, but had it been the eighth window from the left or... the ninth. He cast his grappling line, sailed across the street, and dropped lightly to the window sill. Under his cowl, his face hardened. Someone was there ahead of him.