Chapter 27
It had been weeks. Bruce had long since bypassed legal means of surveillance but had been left with more questions than answers. At every corner there were blank spaces, crowds that parted around old buildings, stories of gas leaks and faulty architecture, cameras that turned to static. Bruce was no closer to finding his sons and it was killing him inside.
He kept calling for Harry to come down for dinner, knocking on Tim’s door expecting to find him crouched over his laptop and bleary eyed from another all-nighter. Damian had assured him that Harry and Tim were well. They were apparently safe, staying with friends in some undisclosed location. His youngest wouldn’t tell him anymore but even if Bruce stole those letters, he doubted he would find anything revealing.
The reality was, there was just too many things Bruce didn’t know. He had used both facial recognition software and government records but there was no mention of Dumbledore in Britain or elsewhere. Bruce had gone over all of Tim and Harry’s old letters but the information was sparse, carefully worked around what must have been any references to magic. He couldn’t forget the image of Tim drenched in blood and clinging onto the dead girl. Now, Harry and Tim were gone and Bruce had no idea why. Groaning, he pushed another stack of paper to the side and reached for his coffee. It was cold.
“Dad?” A light flickered on his office and Bruce squinted against the sudden assault on his eyes. He hadn’t even realised it had gotten dark. Looking up, he saw Jason leaning on the doorway.
“It’s eight-thirty,” Jason said, “we goin’ on patrol tonight?”
“I’ll be ready in five minutes,” Bruce rubbed at his forehead, trying to stave away an encroaching migraine.
In the end it took closer to ten minutes to drag himself away from his desk and into his bat suit. Jason jumped into the back of the batmobile and some of the pressure in Bruce’s head eased as they tore out of the cave. There was nothing quite like the feeling of gliding through the night, feeling only the near-silent engine rumbling under him.
They burst through the waterfall concealing the cave’s entrance and through Bristol’s streets.
“Activity recorded on Beckdall Bridge,” Alfred said over the comms, “and I’m happy to report that the youngest bird is securely in bed though I did have to move him there. He had passed out by the window again.”
At least he was asleep.
The batmobile sped over a rough patch of road and Jason let out a cry.
“Wait!”
Bruce slammed on the breaks and the batmobile skidded to a stop. Jason pressed his face against the car window.
“Bruce,” Jason said, his voice slightly strangled, “I can see the Drake house.” He twisted around his seat to look at Bruce. “The light is on.”
Bruce’s heart leapt into his throat. In one fluid motion, he stepped on the gas and jerked the steering wheel around, forcing the car into a full 180 degree turn. Drake Manor wasn’t far. They could be considered Bruce’s neighbours with only a few manicured acres and a small forest between them, but it felt like he was driving through flood water.
Bruce parked the batmobile in the shadows around the back of Drake Manor. He had no desire to meet Janet Drake. She had never relaxed around Brucie in the same way the other Gothamite elites did, her eyes remaining cold behind her smile.
Scanning his surroundings, Bruce slipped out of the Batmobile and held the door open for Jason. He couldn’t see any cameras. The manor’s security appeared remarkably lax and it was unnervingly easy to jimmy open a service door half-concealed behind an ivy vine. He didn’t want to think about all the times Tim and Harry had been alone in this house. The door cracked open and together, Bruce and Jason snuck inside, closing the door behind him.
They found themselves in a cramped room. It was simple, white tiles, white walls, a white washing machine and dryer. There was something clinical about he space. Every surface gleamed as if it had just been taken out of the box. There were no loose socks in the dryer or muddy boots by the door. Jason shuddered.
In two strides, Bruce crossed the room and into the stream of yellow light coming through the opposite half-open door. Pressing close to the door, he could hear a pair of raised voices. There words were muffled but he knew who they belonged to. Jack and Janet were back in Gotham.
Bruce raised a finger to his lips. He pushed the door wider and out into a hallway that was just as lifeless, skulking towards the voices with Jason close behind him. They turned a corner and Bruce put a hand out to stop Jason.
“Where is he?” Bruce was used to hearing Jack at galas, laughing a little too loudly with a glass of bourbon in his hand. This voice was barely recognisable. There was something deeper than anger, a coldness that he had only seen in Janet.
“Where do you think, Jack?” Bruce heard Janet sigh. “It is unfortunate yes but Drake Industries has recovered…”
“Where is he?” There was the sound of a glass being slammed against a countertop.
“We will need to make arrangements,” Janet kept talking, ignoring her husband. “We are both still young.”
“I want to know where my son is!” Bruce felt Jason still next to him.
“The board won’t accept any child off the street,” Janet’s heels clicked on the marble floor. “I had we would not need to repeat this stage but…”
“Were you going to hide this from me?” Jack’s voice lowered and Bruce had to shift closer. “Pretend he was off at boarding school…”
“As if you would have noticed,” Janet scoffed. “If you hadn’t found…”
“You would have,” Jack said faintly. Bruce could almost see Jack running his fingers through his hair. There was a ruff of movement, a thump and Janet let out a soft gasp.
“YOU BITCH!” Jack growled.
“Get your hands off me,” Janet said and Bruce wavered in his hidden alcove.
“I can’t believe you.” Jack spat. “You…you…how?”
“Let go of me,” Bruce heard someone stumble back and the tap of Janet’s heels retreating. “I’m going to bed,” she snapped, “don’t follow me up.”
“Oh why not?” Jack called after her, his word dripping with such unfiltered bitterness. “Why not start now? We’re not getting any younger.”
Janet’s heel stopped. For a beat, there was complete silence in the house. “Don’t mistake me for heartless,” Janet said softly.
“I don’t know why I married you,” Jack said in a near whisper.
Janet laughed, a cold, controlled sound. “And yet you always remember when you’re flying around with the money I brought to your company. Get some rest, Jack,” she said, “we can talk in the morning."
Jack called out to her once more as her heels grew fainter. “And Harry?”
“Don’t…”
“Janet, please,” Jack’s voice broke.
“They were together,” Janet said stiffly. With that, her footsteps disappeared and Bruce could only hear Jack, breathing heavily. There was a clink of glass and the sound of bottle being unstoppered.
“What was that?” Jason whispered but Bruce stopped him with a look. Staying close to the shadows, he slipped forward. He could see Jack, his hands gripping the kitchen’s marble countertop, his back to Bruce. Silently, Bruce removed a simple, circular clock from the wall and undid the screws that kept its glass casing attached. He drew out a compact microphone and camera from his belt, fastened it to the middle of the clock and returned it to the wall. Jack shifted, straightening up, glass in hand.
Bruce retreated. He had to pull Jason with him to get him to move.
“What were they talkin’ about?” Jason hissed, fighting against Bruce’s hold. “They were talkin’ like Tim and Harry are…”
“They are alive,” Bruce needed to say it out loud. “We’ve seen their letters to D.”
“They could be forged or pre-written or,” Jason’s voice was rising and Bruce had to duck back into the laundry and close the door.
“Breath,” he put his hands on Jason’s shoulders, ignoring the pressure in his chest. “I need you to breath for me, R.”
“But,” Jason glanced up at him, his domino mask unable to conceal the raw emotion on his face.
“We’ll find them,” Bruce said, casting a look back at where Jack was no doubt steadily making his way through a bottle. “I promise, R. I’ll bring them home.”
There was clearly something more going on in this family. It seemed about time he arranged a little meeting between Janet and Brucie Wayne.