Penguin’s Perfidious Piracy

“This is outrageous, Pierre!” Warden Crichton exclaimed. “I know they call you ‘Lucky’ and you’re a renowned criminal defense attorney, but this is ridiculous!”

Lucky Pierre shrugged helplessly, spreading his hands. “It’s a court order, Warden. What can I tell you?”

“You can tell me how you convinced a judge to let the Penguin out while he appeals his conviction on the flimsy grounds his claim Jackie Lalanne brainwashed him with Minerva’s Eggplant Vitamin Jelly Scalp Massage machine was not allowed into evidence!” The Warden’s voice grew louder as he spoke.

“Both Ms. Lalanne and Minerva operate in the fitness industry. Following the Gotham City Police Department’s recent, good work, they both are available to address the Court.”

“I’m surprised you’re pleased at Minerva’s arrest.”

“You wound me, Warden. Minerva has not chosen to avail herself of my services. Since she can be subpoenaed, the Court may be allowed to learn exactly what happened to my client.”

“Minerva being believed is as ridiculous as Penguin’s claim being taken seriously.”

“I must respectfully disagree. It’s only logical–”

“Logical!? the Warden bellowed. The crimson tinge darkening his face deepened as he continued. “Tell me the logic in you escaping prosecution - much less with your law license - when Batgirl found you consorting with Catwoman at the Catlair West where she also found legal documents purportedly prepared at the request of the late George Henry Lyons! I’ve heard taxation called ‘redistribution of wealth,' but Batgirl’s discovery makes highway robbery--”

“Warden, you know perfectly well the police recovered none of the documents Batgirl claims to have seen. Now, I will not dignify your utterly unfounded accusation with any further response,” Pierre said haughtily. “All that remains is for you to comply with the court order and release Mister Cobblepot immediately.”

The Warden calmed and decided to try another tack. “Based on his record, any reasonable person would conclude Penguin will commit more crimes long before his appeal is heard!”

“Surely your financial advisor has told you past performance does not guarantee future results. If you’ve been following the markets lately, you’ve obviously seen a case study in this admonition’s applicability.”

“Pierre, that analogy is nonsense and you know it!”

“You could almost persuade a jury with such passion, Warden,” the attorney said, smiling engagingly. His face became serious as he continued. “I sincerely wish more of your reform attempts were successful.”

Now it was the Warden’s turn to act insulted. “I’m not going to argue with you any longer, Pierre. Just tell me - are there any restrictions on the Penguin while he's free on appeal bond?”

“Of course,” Lucky Pierre happily responded. “The Court has decided my client may go about his business – as long as he does not leave Gotham City. What could possibly be fairer?”

“He’s going to lose his appeal,” the Warden predicted, ignoring the question.

“We’ll see. I would imagine while he is out, he will be scrutinized by police and our caped crimefighters quite closely.”

“I would expect so,” the prison official agreed. “The Penguin’s reputation–”

“Is undeserved and the scrutiny he undergoes may work in his favor,” the lawyer interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “Commissioner Gordon, the police, Batman and his allies will have to walk a narrow line to avoid harassing my client.”

The Warden sighed. “I suppose that’s true.”

“Would you please send for Mister Cobblepot now?”

“All right, Pierre. I really have no choice, but I’ll tell you – for the record – I take this action with the greatest trepidation.”

“I knew I could rely on you to do your duty, Warden. Thank you.”

The Warden ignored him, leaning toward his intercom. “Please send for the Penguin. Heaven help us. I’ve been given a court order to release him.”

That night, Captain Miles Cutler’s Gotham Harbor tour boat followed its familiar course, unaware of four male figures boarding via the stern ladders. Each wore a wetsuit bearing his name in white, block letters across his chest and air tanks on his back. They carefully lifted a separate, larger tank through the stern window and into a deserted cabin. A hiss began shortly after the divers connected their large tank to the pleasure boat’s ventilation system. The intruders employed the air they carried on their backs while moving among the deck level cabins and the guests, who could not avoid inhaling the knockout gas. Money and jewels vanished into black, waterproof loot sacks and the men moved from the public areas to the private cabins so that every available bauble could be collected.

The thieves returned to the water unobserved by the watch on deck and sank beneath the waves, where each engaged the engine of a one-man underwater craft and retreated unseen to an undersea cave. There, they slid out of their gear, dried themselves, and dressed in black slacks and turtlenecks that also bore their names. They then carried their stolen loot up a series of ladders installed between the levels of the secret cave complex.

Once they had emerged from a trap door, they found themselves in the presence of a short, rotund man lounging against the railing of a spiral staircase and smoking a cigarette held in a black, lacquered holder. As the robbers presented themselves, their one-man audience let an ash fall to the floor, being careful to keep it from touching his well-tailored tuxedo. He regarded them through a monocle as his purple top hat cast a shadow over the majority of his face, the exception being the tip of his aquiline nose.

“All right, my fine, finny finks,” the man addressed them, selecting another cigarette with a white-gloved hand and lighting it from the one he had finished smoking. “How did it go?”

“It went great, Mister Penguin,” Bass said.

“We got everything,” Pike elaborated.

“The best part is,” Marlin happily added, pausing for effect, “not a soul saw us.”

“Not a soul saw us,” Parrot repeated.

“I don’t understand something,” a young woman complained, descending the stairs and moving to a table upon which she sat decoratively, swinging her extended leg absently while tucking the other beneath her. The well-dressed gang leader noted how her leather, knee high boots, and the matching shorts encasing the fascinating flare of her hips made her legs look particularly enticing. There was also a good deal to be said for her upper body, showcased magnificently by a vest matching her shorts and boots worn over a long-sleeved, button-down shirt with a frilly collar and sleeve cuffs. A thin, leather arm band was worn around each of her upper arms, color coordinating her look with the lush mane of curly, brown hair cascading behind her shoulders and framing her pretty face. “Why did you just leave the empty tank of knockout gas for the authorities to find?”

“That apparent oversight is my crowning touch,” the cagey criminal revealed. “As you know, a policeman followed me from prison directly to this lighthouse and saw you greet me warmly.”

“So what?” the girl asked, smirking. “You wanted the cops to know about you and me. I’d like to see what that flatfoot wrote about the greeting I gave you.”

“What is important in regard to your first observation,” the criminal mastermind replied, “is the police have no idea the finks are here and therefore have no reason to suspect this lighthouse of being the nerve center for my forthcoming criminal coup. Wak, wak, wak! Now, Cora, you and I will spend the rest of the evening in plain sight, so the police will be well aware of my whereabouts, even while they suspect me. No one will be able to prove we had anything to do with the acquisition of this loot and that fact is a stroke of mere criminal genius, even if I do say so myself. Wak, wak, wak! Naturally, I do.”

Cora’s watchful eye turned to the portion of the table beside her, to which the arch criminal pointed with his umbrella. “That really does sound smart,” she admitted. “Let’s turn to what’s really important now. What all did these guys steal?” she asked, indicating the four finks. They began emptying their loot sacks. Soon, she slid to the floor to make more room as the heap of stolen money and jewels accumulated. “What a haul!” Her greedily glittering eyes flicked from the loot-laden table to the Penguin, whom she regarded with naked adoration as she inhaled.

“These baubles, Miss Sayers, merely represent the beginning. Come. Let’s watch our law enforcement professionals examine the clues I’ve given them while the finks stay out of sight, stow these jewels, and stack the money. Wak!”

“Your proposal sounds like fun.” Cora Sayers observed, following her employer to the top of the lighthouse where the policemen watching could clearly see them. The supercriminal and the girl noted the watcher's position before she stepped into the well-dressed man’s arms. “I don’t think he’s moved since you pointed him out to me,” she softly said, giggling. “Show time.”

“Indeed. Wak! Tonight’s performance should be a profound pleasure, my pretty pirate. As you know, I’ve directed movies. I’m certain the audience will appreciate the abundant realism in our feature.” Cora Sayers smiled as Penguin carefully set his cigarette and umbrella aside before drawing her body closely against him, kissing her hard and deeply on the mouth.

‘She’s a natural,’ he thought as the girl moaned, pressing herself firmly against him while her enthusiastic response to his tobacco-scented kisses was delightedly reciprocated.

Their performance, which was quite real, continued to obscure two facts. First, the lighthouse had recently become the nest of the cagey and brilliant supervillain known as the Penguin; and second, his cunningly planned crime wave was well underway, less than twenty-four hours from his release from prison.

Gotham City Police Commissioner James Gordon sat at his desk, looking up at his long-time colleague, Chief of Police O'Hara. "Old friend," Gordon began, "this could be it."

"I know, sir," O'Hara replied. "Have you told anyone else yet?"

"No, Chief. I didn't think it appropriate until I met with Mayor-elect Petalberg."

"You're seeing him tomorrow?"

"That's right." Gordon made a show of straightening the papers on his desk, even though they were already quite orderly. "Now then, tell me about this tour boat business."

“Sure an' it’s baffling, sir,” Chief O’Hara complained. “Everything of value below the main deck which wasn’t nailed down was taken from the pleasure boat. Everyone below was also gassed.”

“The crooks modus operandi sounds straightforward enough,” Commissioner James Gordon said. “Does the gas tell us anything?”

“The knockout gas the thieves used is common enough and none of the victims saw a thing. The gas was, however, finely filtered.”

“Finely filtered knockout gas is one telltale earmark of a Penguin caper.”

Chief O’Hara opened a file he was holding in his hand. “I’ve had the Penguin watched since he was released from prison. He took a cab straight to the old lighthouse on Dragon's Rock, met a woman there,” the Chief handed Gordon a photograph, “and hasn’t left since. The report says they . . . er . . . seem very happy together, to say the least.”

Commissioner Gordon examined the snapshot of Cora Sayers. “Perhaps that’s understandable. The lady seems to have chosen a nautical mode of dress while remaining feminine, and quite lovely.” He paused briefly, lost in thought. “Have they been in sight the entire time?”

“No. That is, however, probably just as well. I can conclusively say neither of them was out of sight long enough to have slipped away, robbed the ship, and returned. Given our observations, I strongly suspect they’ll vouch for one another’s whereabouts and be believed.”

‘What do we know about this girl?” the Commissioner asked.

“Well, her name is Cora Sayers and she owns the lighthouse outright. She’s in her early twenties. Every scrap of information about her prior to her eighteenth birthday is sealed in court records.”

“So, she could have a juvenile record as long as your arm.”

“Sure an' we’ll never know,” the Chief lamented.

“How do you suppose she bought the property?” the Commissioner wondered aloud.

“I’ve checked into the sale as far as I could,” the Chief said. “The little lass owns the property through a trust. Everything appears in order, but I’m having a team of accountants scrutinize the sale just in case. I don’t imagine anything significant will be amiss. Even if some irregularity were discovered, pursuing it would take a lot of time and be expensive. Cora Sayers is educated. Her grades weren’t bad, but she didn’t quite finish school. She studied pre-med.”

“Do we have any idea how Penguin and the lady met?”

“She might have been one of Jackie LeLane’s customers,” Chief O’Hara said. “Alternatively, if she has a juvenile record, Legs Parker might have brought her in to help with the casino night to which you and your daughter were invited aboard Baby Jane Towser’s boat.

“That event was the final event in the charity hoax Miss Parker and Penguin managed to pull off before Batgirl caught them.”

“Sure an' you’re right. The Towser family was very helpful after Penguin kidnapped Baby Jane. I’ll have someone look for this girl on the tapes.”

“Good work, Chief. Keep on top of this matter. Unless we can connect Penguin or this girl conclusively with last night’s theft . . . .”

“If the Penguin is nesting at the lighthouse, something will smell once we’ve done some digging.”

“I’m having everything done we can legally do. I don’t want the Penguin suing the police department for harassment,” the Commissioner replied. “That rascal, Lucky Pierre, has already been making ugly, preemptive noises about lawsuits.”

Chief O’Hara glanced at the covered, red phone on the other side of the office. ”What about calling in our caped friends?”

James Gordon was far ahead of his subordinate. He had alerted his daughter, Barbara – whom he knew to be the superheroine, Batgirl – after reading the e-mail the Warden had sent him about the Penguin’s release. Speaking to his daughter had not only allowed the public official to vent about how pointless his department’s hard work could be at times, it set Gotham City’s premier, female, caped bloodhound nipping at the avian villain’s proverbial heels.

“Batman is aware of last night’s robbery. I spoke to him about it after I talked to Batgirl. It seems she has been monitoring the marine radio channels since the Penguin’s release and asked me to arrange for her to borrow the Batboat.”

“So, Batgirl is already on the wily bird’s trail,” Chief O’Hara said happily. “She knows everything we know about Penguin?”

“By now, she may know even more. If Penguin is involved, I’m sure she’ll make the connection. Naturally, I’ve shared all of our information.”

“Begorra! Batgirl is a treasure, Commissioner.”

“Indeed she is, Chief,” the Commissioner agreed. “Indeed she is, and more precious than all the gold in the world.” Silently he added, ‘Especially to me.’

Meanwhile, Batgirl, the pretty, pied paragon of all things virtuous, piloted the Batboat over the waves of Gotham Harbor. She hailed Captain Miles Cutler’s boat and was promptly welcomed aboard.

“The police and Coast Guard have been over every inch of this boat. I’ve asked for copies of their reports, but I’m afraid they won’t learn very much,” the crime victim said.

“Maybe I can lend them a glove, so to speak. Did the authorities take the tank from which the knockout gas was released?”

“Yes.”

“Would you show me where they found that tank?”

“Of course, Batgirl,” Captain Miles Cutler said. “I’ll personally give you a tour of the whole boat.”

"Thank you," Batgirl said, following him toward the font of the boat, which he explained was called the bow.

“Now, we’ll just continue back toward the stern, the back of the boat, or, as we say at sea, aft.” Later, he led her into the great cabin at the rear of the boat. "I hope the tour was helpful."

"Is this where the gas was introduced into the ventilation system?" the Curved Crusader asked.

“I’m afraid so,” the Captain answered, indicating the enormous windows in the rear of the craft. “The thieves came in through the windows using our external ladders to climb from the water. They hooked up the gas and went to work on my guests.”

"When did you and your passengers begin to recover?

“My officer of the watch became suspicious when he was not relieved at dawn. We might all still be out cold if he had not started opening widows and portholes to air out the cabins. Indeed, we might have slept for a week.”

‘Fresh air and time can be as effective as a faster-acting Universal Drug Antidote,’ Batgirl thought. Aloud she said, “I think it would have taken more than one person to bring that much gas aboard. That’s something.”

“I hadn’t thought about how many thieves there might have been.”

“Do you use the same course for this cruise every night?”

“Essentially,” the boat owner replied. “The officer of the watch has a script about sites on shore he follows during the voyage.”

“Would you show me the course on the charts and the script?”

“Sure.”

Batgirl followed the boat’s course on the chart with her finger and read over the script. “I didn’t know the lighthouse on Dragon’s Rock was being considered for inclusion on the National Register of Historic Places. I thought it was abandoned.”

“I think the new owner wants to have it restored. I can check, if you’d like. Our notes about the lighthouse were the latest revision of our script and it’s only a few weeks old.”

“What did you say about the lighthouse previously?”

“Not much. We said a little about how the huge lens focused a lantern light that could be seen for miles. Oh, and we also mentioned rumors that some old lighthouse keepers took advantage of caves to supplement their government wages in various ways. Those are just stories though, as far as anyone knows.”

“Thank you for your time and the tour. I’d appreciate it if you’d share anything else you may discover about the lighthouse. You can reach me through Commissioner Gordon’s office. Right now, any information could prove vital.”

“No problem, Batgirl. I’m glad you’re helping out the authorities. Frankly, the robbery baffles me. I can’t imagine how the police cope.”

“I can assure you they do, Captain Cutler,” she said. “I’d like to ask you about one last thing. Would you point out on the chart, as close as you can, where the boat was robbed?”

Once Batgirl had left the pleasure boat, she guided the Batboat toward the craft’s approximate position when the robbery occurred and cut the motor. Once the Batboat was bobbing freely in the water, she took out a chart and pored over it for a moment. ‘This is the point in the boat’s course closest to Dragon‘s Rock!’ she thought. ‘I think it’s time to pay a call on the Penguin and his new lady friend.’ Once the motor had been engaged again, the boat responded to Batgirl’s hand on the throttle, skimming rapidly toward its destination.

Cora Sayers stood on the gallery, a balcony surrounding the lantern room atop her lighthouse, watching the Batboat through a spyglass as the sun warmed her exposed thighs, neck, and face. ”Batgirl is coming this way, Pengy,” she reported.

“Of course she is, Cora. I’ve been expecting a caped caller after last night’s skullduggery. Wak! I’m just as happy Batgirl has elected to investigate. Getting rid of her once and for all will be a pleasure.”

“Tell me something, Pengy," she said, lowering the spyglass. "What do you have against Batgirl?”

“Wak! She’s been a thorn in my side more times than I care to count!”

“I’ll get my knives,” the girl decided. She closed her eyes and titled her head back, imagining what she could do to the Dark Knight Damsel. “It’s too bad the finks are busy.”

“You’ll do no such thing, my dear!”

“I can fillet Batgirl alive for you. It will be fun, for both of us.”

“Listen carefully, Cora. As much as I’d enjoy watching you work, the timing of Batgirl’s visit couldn’t be more perfect. Wak, wak, wak! We’ll be chatting with her at the exact moment my next fantastic, criminal coup is hatched. Can you imagine a more perfect alibi for us than Batgirl herself?”

Cora Sayers consulted her thin watch. “You’re right.” Then, her eyes widened as she considered the meaning of the Penguin’s words. “Hey!” she replied before enthusiastically repeating, “You’re right!"

“Of course I am,” the Penguin agreed, “Wak, wak, wak!”

The criminal couple laughed until the girl fell helplessly against the supervillain’s chest. Once she had recovered the power of speech, she looked up with eager eyes. “You really are a criminal genius, Pengy, but I’m not following your plans just now. If you’re going to capture Batgirl–”

“I’m not going to catch her just yet, Cora,” Penguin cautioned, clasping her. “Following this afternoon’s performance, Batgirl will be more convinced than ever of my guilt, but she’ll be completely frustrated at her inability to prove anything. Wak! The police will soon call off the flatfoot watching us, since he will seem to have been wasting his time.”

“I wouldn’t say our time has been wasted, Pengy,” the girl said, grinning impishly.

“Hardly, my dear. Wak! Hardly,” Penguin agreed, supporting the fantastically feminine vision in his arms. He squeezed her encouragingly and let one hand slide casually upward along her thigh, making her smile. Then, exhaling resignedly, he released her and moved to the top of the spiral staircase.

“When Batgirl is left pursuing the case completely on her own, we’ll be able to act unobserved, taking care of her once and for all, in a decidedly leisurely manner. Wak, wak, wak!” Penguin explained, smiling over his shoulder as he anticipated his revenge. “Soon, Cora, I’ll destroy her very slowly, in an exquisitely painful manner. Wak! The time for this delicious vengeance is fast approaching, and I freely admit I can’t wait! Wak, wak, wak!”

Cora Sayers scrutinized her approaching visitor through the spyglass once again. “Batgirl has tied the Batboat to the rocks. She threw a rope over Dragon’s Rock and is walking vertically up the cliff to reach the ground at the base of the lighthouse.”

“Splendid. Wak! She’s involved in a classic Batclimb. While she approaches, we’ll need to be certain all of this lighthouse’s secrets remain secret. Wak!”

“No problem. All the money is stacked and stowed with the jewels in the caves. The only thing Batgirl might interfere with is the delivery of the cannon.”

“It’s arriving today?” Penguin inquired.

“In about half an hour,” Cora Sayers said. “We could blow Batgirl out of the water as the Batboat heads out to sea.”

“We’ll discuss the arrangements for Batgirl’s upcoming funeral in due time, my bloodthirsty bandit.”

“I was only saying,” the girl protested. “Listen, Pengy, your plans for Batgirl sound much more interesting, as well as appropriate, under the circumstances.” She regarded the criminal mastermind with a wicked smile.

“Come, Cora. It’s time to greet our guest and confound her with additional cunningly calculated clues. Wak! We’ll attend to her destruction later — but not too much later. Wak, wak, wak!”

Shortly after Batgirl reached the lip of the cliff, the Penguin reached down to help her to the top and safety. The Curved Crusader hesitated. ‘Doing away with me by shoving me off a cliff would not be Penguin’s style, especially when we both know the police are watching,’ Batgirl thought, reaching for his offered hand. “Thank you,” she said aloud, standing safely atop the cliff.

“Welcome, Batgirl,” the well-dressed ex-convict said. “Your penchant for the unorthodox entrance is well known.”

“I have some questions for you, Penguin,” Batgirl declared, ignoring his attempt at small talk.

“Wak! Why don’t you come in out of the chilly sea breeze?” her host affably invited, responding dismissively to her direct, businesslike approach. “Then, we can talk.”

“Thank you,” Batgirl said again. The odd pair made their way to the entrance of the lighthouse, Penguin waddling while Batgirl strode confidently over the uneven terrain in her high-heeled boots. Once inside, Penguin made an introduction.

“Allow me to present Miss Cora Sayers, the owner of this property, and my new business partner.”

“Charmed,” Batgirl said, shaking the young woman’s hand.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Batgirl,” the girl declared. “How may Pengy and I help you?”

“You both may be aware a pleasure craft was robbed last night,” Batgirl began. She watched closely as both the Penguin and his pretty partner nodded.

“It’s been all over the local ship-to-shore radio,” Cora Sayers explained. “I hope no one was hurt.”

“The victims were lucky. Only money and jewels went missing,” Batgirl said. “Piracy can be much bloodier, and often is.”

“Are you and the authorities making any progress?” Penguin interestedly asked.

“All the time,” Batgirl coolly replied. “Did either of you see anything that might help me identify or track down the thieves?”

“Well, as I said, we heard the report on the marine band radio this morning,” Cora Sayers said. “Unfortunately, the thieves, like many other criminals, apparently preferred plying their trade under the cloak of darkness. Since we don’t actively operate the lighthouse right now, we were not monitoring the sea traffic.”

“I’m confident you’ll put the situation to rights, Batgirl,” Penguin interjected.

“I though this lighthouse hadn’t been used for navigation in years,” Batgirl said.

“While that’s technically true,” Cora explained, “many sailors take comfort in double checking their position by traditional means. In addition, we think having the lighthouse up and running will enhance its status as a tourist attraction.”

“I understand you’re preparing the lighthouse for inclusion on the National Register of Historic Places.”

“That’s correct,” Penguin said.

“I wish you success. I don’t mean to pry or cause offense, Penguin, but how exactly are you helping with this project?”

“I have extensive nautical experience and interest, as you know, Batgirl,” Penguin explained.

“I’ve found his expertise invaluable,” Cora Sayers said. “If you don’t mind, I have no further comment. We’d be happy to show you around, though, if you’d like.”

“Thank you,” Batgirl said. “I’d enjoy a tour.”

She followed the Penguin and the girl as they led her around the lighthouse. She noted the acetylene tanks from which the fuel was piped up to the lantern in the glass-walled lamp room. Just below the top level was a radio room where charts were arranged on a table beside a book upon which a list of vessels scheduled to pass the lighthouse rested.

“I thought you said you were not yet paying attention to local shipping?”

“We’re getting the information,” Cora Sayers explained. “It’s just that we have, how shall I put this? We have other . . . um . . . priorities.” Cora Sayers and Penguin winked at one another.

Batgirl nodded. “I see,” she said noncommittally.

Cora Sayers led the way through the lamp room and out onto the gallery. She pointed at a truck traversing the road leading to the lighthouse. “Oh, look, Pengy. Here comes the cannon.”

“Why do you need a cannon?” Batgirl interestedly inquired.

“We’ve decided a cannon would add to the historical flavor of the lighthouse,” Cora Sayers explained.

“You’re familiar with the Harbor Lights Motor Lodges?” Penguin asked.

“Of course,” Batgirl said. “There are several along the shoreline of Gotham City. Each is situated within sight of the next.”

“These establishments’ closeness was for the purpose of communication regarding pirates and, in Colonial days, the British. Cannons were commonly stationed along the shore for defense. I recommended – and Cora agreed – such an arrangement here might be phenomenally educational when the lighthouse is ready for the public to tour.”

“Also,” Cora Sayers added, “cannons were sometimes used as signals in the fog. I decided to get a cannon since having one would let me operate the lighthouse while the foghorn is refurbished.”

“I have to admit, your plans sound very commendable–”

An explosion at sea suddenly interrupted Batgirl’s cautious compliment.

Neither Penguin nor Cora Sayers interfered with Batgirl as she moved to a telescope mounted on the railing of the gallery surrounding the lamp room. Seconds after the trio whirled toward the sea, spray from a tremendous waterspout settled to the surface of the ocean. Batgirl scanned the flaming vessel sinking just offshore, breathing more easily as she noted lifeboats being lowered rapidly over the sides.

“Do you have the manifests for ships scheduled to pass here?” Batgirl asked.

“Yes,” Cora Sayers said. “They’re in the radio room.” Batgirl hurried after the girl as she descended the stairs and paged through a book before offering it to Batgirl, pointing out the appropriate text.

“That ship was inbound and lists a strong room full of jewels for Spiffany and other Gotham City jewelers,” Batgirl said, setting the book aside. “That explosion might have been an accident, but I’m going to find out. Would you two excuse me?”

“Of course,” the Penguin said.

“Come back any time,” Cora Sayers invited. “We’d be happy to answer any more questions you may have. Good luck.”

"Thank you," Batgirl said before she hurried to the edge of the cliff and repelled to the deck of the Batboat. Soon, she had cast off and was skimming toward the site of the wreck.

“She’ll interrupt the finks while they’re looting the jewels,” Cora Sayers worriedly said.

“Not to worry, my perfidious, piratical pet. We'll raise the finks on the radio and alert them they’ll have an uninvited visitor. I’m sure, with a little preparation, Batgirl can be detained forever in a watery grave. Wak, wak, wak!”

“Is a watery grave where you always planned to arrange Batgirl’s demise?”

“No, but it offers advantages over my original idea. Wak!”

Cora Sayers grinned. “Delicious. Batgirl will end up wetter than a drowned rat.”

“Precisely,” Penguin crowed. “Wak, wak, wak!”

“I could set up the cannon at the cliff edge so it will command the amphibious approaches. We’ll be able to blast Batman into matchsticks, or blow anyone else who comes after us, following Batgirl’s disappearance, out of the water.”

“Go ahead and set it up.” Penguin said. “I’ve been thinking about the Batboat since you spotted it. In fact, using the cannon to blast it to bits may not be necessary at all. I’ve a more subtle idea. Wak! Nevertheless, not all of the bats will approach by sea and it’s good to be prepared.”

“Batgirl’s undersea reception first?” the brown-eyed beauty asked, letting a wicked grin illuminate her pretty face as she laughed.

“Indeed,” Penguin concurred. “To the radio room. Wak!” The criminal couple retreated arm in arm.

As the Batboat skimmed across the waves, Batgirl was relived to see several lifeboats nearing the shore as oarsmen pulled furiously and repeatedly. Looking around as she slowed her craft, she did not see swimmers and gratefully exhaled. Her investigation would thankfully not be interrupted by necessary, lifesaving chores.

The Batboat drifted to a stop above where the blasted boat had settled onto the sea floor. Batgirl peered through the water, examining the just-submerged wreck and its surroundings. As she watched, four dark figures moved a chest onto an undersea craft. “I was right,” Batgirl said, slipping off her cape, boots, and purple padded socks. She retrieved and donned a pair of Bat-Fins she had earlier found in a locker on the Batboat and pulled on a pair of goggles and the Bat-Respirator from her utility belt. Seconds later, she sat on the boat’s port side gunwale and plunged backwards into the sea.

While Batgirl’s appearance had not changed, she had chosen a warmer, more durable costume, which was effectively a wetsuit, for her seagoing investigation. She smiled, remaining perfectly comfortable as she descended beneath the chilly, choppy waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

Poison Ivy had once used a pressurized hose to both drench and subdue the Curved Crusader, simultaneously demonstrating the need for Batgirl to occasionally wear warmer ensembles. That encounter had given Batgirl a cold.

The thermal underwear the heroine had subsequently worn under her costume had bunched and been deemed unsightly. Batgirl’s wetsuit, like her more commonly worn costumes, featured air pockets built into the fabric for insulation. The material would draw moisture away from her body to keep the heroine both drier and warmer when she was not submerged. Moisture would also be wicked away from Batgirl’s skin and be spread over the fabric’s exterior surface to speed up drying.

Swimming down with strong strokes, Batgirl reached the undersea vehicle upon which the figures she had observed were loading their loot. She took a tracking device from her utility belt and attached it to one vehicle before following the thieves through a gaping hole the explosion had torn in the sunken ship's hull. With a sweep of her arms and a powerful kick, she swam deeper inside the vessel.

A light and bubbles rising toward the surface of the sea drew Batgirl forward. She crouched in a companionway, waiting and watching four men finish looting the vessel’s strong room. Her lips twitched into a smile as she approached. Slowly, the thieves continued silently crossing the sunken deck, burdened with valuables.

Suddenly, one of the thieves began wildly looking around until he saw Batgirl and raised the alarm. He and the other undersea pirates spread out.

‘They must have radio capability built into their helmets. They’re talking to one another and someone else,’ Batgirl thought. ‘Only the Batboat and the sunken vessel’s lifeboats are visible on the surface of the sea, though my craft could admittedly be easily identified from shore. Nevertheless, the easiest place from which a watcher could observe me is obviously the lighthouse. Also, the only people who knew I was coming down here ahead of time were Penguin and his girl, Cora Sayers!’

With a mental shrug, Batgirl moved toward the nearest man and hit him hard enough to shatter his diving mask. Loot slowly settled onto the submerged deck as his hands went instinctively, but uselessly, to where the salt water was stinging his eyes. He immediately fled the battle, desperate to reach the surface.

Batgirl turned to locate the rest of the thieves. She realized the water would slow the combatants’ movements and diminish the power behind any blows they might launch. She took comfort in her intricate knowledge of the human body’s weak points.

Before she could strike again, however, two men seized her arms and began to drag their adversary backward. The other man approached, smiling wickedly and gleefully anticipating his chance to methodically take the Curved Crusader apart.

Batgirl vainly squirmed until she realized her attackers were very close. She shot both elbows into their chests and was rewarded with a copious amount of bubbles. The grip on her arms loosened. She tore free from the thieves’ combined grip and reached to tear the men’s masks from their faces.

As they dealt with the sting of the salt water, Batgirl swam toward her remaining attacker, leaving her most recent victims’ reach. The fourth man was still approaching directly ahead of her. Batgirl moved to one side and gripped his arm, spinning him in position to shove him face-first into a wall. Her opponent spun, but the heel of Batgirl’s hand violently impacted the small of his back. When he winced, she slammed a forearm into the back of his head and backed away as he sank to his knees.

Batgirl looked around for her remaining attackers and could not find them until she chanced to brush against a metal mesh. She moved away and realized it was slowly being drawn closer to her.

‘They’re above me!’ Batgirl realized. ‘Worse, their tactics have completely changed. This metal net is now enveloping me!’

Unlike the first man, her remaining attackers had obviously not panicked, but had somehow figured out how to carry on with their underwater chores without the benefit of masks. Inexorably, they drew her into the strong room using the net as she worked vainly to get around it.

The men who controlled the net – and Batgirl – tied its corners to empty, enclosed shelves lining the walls and made sure it would remain both taut and in place by snapping padlocks around the mesh and the shelves. Batgirl was trapped.

Moments later, her captors retreated and the room was cloaked in darkness as the strong room door was slammed shut. Even underwater, the clang with which the chamber sealed was quite audible and chilled Batgirl without changing her body temperature.

‘Decision time,’ the Curved Crusader thought. ‘I’ve got a limited amount of air and an underwater prison from which to escape. I could cut my way out with an underwater torch, which would use valuable oxygen, or I could use the hacksaw blade, which would take longer, perhaps too long!’

Batgirl retrieved her hacksaw blade and quickly went to work on the metal net in the dark. Though her essential work had started quickly, it proceeded very slowly, seeming to take forever.

Finally, she cut a hole she could swim through and hurried forward in the dark murk to the strong room door. She braced her feet and pushed. Nothing happened!

‘Obviously, the crooks didn’t permanently disable the lock when they broke in here.’ Batgirl needed light and her tiny, waterproof Batlight let her examine the metal plate bolted against the inside of the lock. ‘I’m running out of air,’ the Dominoed Daredoll realized. ‘My only chance is to cut away these bolt heads.’ Quickly, she exchanged her Batlight for her underwater cutting torch. She had the bolt heads off in a matter of seconds and shut off the torch, conserving precious oxygen.

She manipulated the mechanism that had been behind the panel, which was now drifting slowly to the floor of the submerged strong room. Seconds later, she pushed on the door, but it would not budge. ‘They wedged it shut somehow!’ Batgirl thought. ‘I’ll die down here, unless I get out!’

Fighting panic, she used her light to examine the edges of the strong room door. ‘Sealed,’ Batgirl immediately noted. ‘Those thieves were ready for company and I’ll bet the Penguin was in constant contact with them, probably from the radio room Cora Sayers showed me. It’s all circumstantial evidence, at best, though, and I’ll never be able to prove it. Still, I can’t help wondering.’ Batgirl’s spirits fell as she went on considering her well-planned predicament. ‘If my theory about Penguin is true, he dictated the tactics the thieves used to entomb me down here, too. Unless I escape, I won’t learn whether my theory is correct.’

Batgirl’s rapid search revealed no hinges on the strong room door, and she half-stood on, half-floated above the floor frowning with her hands resting on her shapely hips. ‘Penguin no doubt thinks he thought of everything. I won’t let this room turn into my tomb!’

She moved to the empty shelves lining the walls and cut a long metal bar away from them with her underwater cutting torch. ‘If I can wedge a lever into place, I might be able to overpower the crude locking mechanism those thieves organized.’ She rammed her lever into place, pushing hard. In a matter of minutes, the lock burst open, but the door remained firmly shut. ‘Penguin’s men certainly were thorough,’ Batgirl glumly mused. Her frown deepened as she spotted the metal pin holding her prison shut through the aperture her efforts had created.

‘Now,’ Batgirl thought, repositioning her lever and pulling fiercely. Her exertion caused the metal pin to tear away from the door with an angry scrape. Batgirl allowed herself a short rest before bracing her feet and pushing hard at the door once again.

With what seemed like a titanic effort, she moved the metal barrier, creating enough of a gap to squeeze through. The thieves, of course, were gone with their loot and there was nothing to do but swim to the surface and hope the Batboat would be waiting for her. She emerged from the wreck and immediately began pulling herself toward the surface.

When her head emerged from the water, she pulled her Bat-Respirator from her mouth and breathed deeply, happy to be alive. She quickly spotted the Batboat and swam to it, pulling herself to the deck and lying in place, panting and recovering her strength as the autumn sun warmed her back.

“That was close,” she said aloud, draping her dry cape over her shoulders for warmth and hugging herself. As her gaze swept the seascape, Batgirl noted the Batboat was still the only vessel anywhere near the wreck and, by extension, she was the only human to have come to investigate. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, reflecting upon how she had nearly paid for her actions with her life.

“Now, it’s time to find out where those thieves went,” she decided aloud, moving behind the wheel and turning her mind to her immediate plans. Silently, she admonished, ‘I know I'm bound for that lighthouse and another confrontation with Penguin!’

“Pengy, you’re brilliant,” Cora Sayers said. “Did you see the look on her face when that bomb blew?”

“I’ve told you before, my picturesque pirate, my sensational scheme was the product of mere criminal genius. Wak, wak, wak!” Penguin agreed. “Look at all these jewels. The robbery isn’t even the best part.”

“What do you mean, boss?” Marlin demanded.

“I don’t get it,” Pike complained.

“We’re rich,” Bass said.

“We’re rich,” Parrot repeated.

“Batgirl has taken up permanent residence deep beneath the waves,” Penguin explained. “She’ll use up all her air soon, if she hasn’t already. In fact, if my calculations are correct, her first possible deadline has already passed. Batgirl’s entombment is just the beginning. Wak, wak, wak! Tomorrow, we’ll do some work on the Batboat. When the Dynamic Dolts arrive to retrieve it, we’ll take them on one-way trip to oblivion. After all, why should Batman be the only one to control his vehicles by remote control?”

“With the Dynamic Duo out of the way, like Batgirl, all you’ll have to worry about is Batwoman and Flamebird’s interference with your plans,” Cora Sayers predicted, letting a handful of small gems spill through her fingers before selecting a huge gem she held up and admired.

“They’ll find themselves in their own watery graves if they do. You’ve set up the cannon, I trust?”

“It’s ready.”

“Good. The other preparations I’ve made for clipping bat wings may prove unnecessary. Wak, wak, Wak! Incidentally, what happened to our bird-watching flatfoot?”

“He left after the explosion.” Cora Sayers reported. “I can’t imagine how the cops could hold us responsible for that job when you and I were chatting with Batgirl while it happened!” She laughed and set down the gem. “Not that she will be available to testify on our behalf, now that she’s dead.”

“Wak! I can’t tell you how I’m enjoying thinking of her in the past tense. Wak!” Penguin set his cigarette holder aside. “Come, Cora. Let’s get topside and check on the Batboat’s position. Finks, stow this loot with the rest. We’ll be cashing in shortly after completely depleting the bat population of Gotham City. Then, the real piracy will begin! Wak, wak, wak!”

As the Man of a Thousand Umbrellas pondered his criminal plans, the young woman determined to stop him tied the Batboat to the rocks once again. She had cruised in slowly, without lights, hoping the cliff’s shadow would hide her as she kept an eye on the device showing the location of the tracer she had placed on the thieves’ undersea craft.

“It’s not the lighthouse,” she muttered, frowning at the stationary position of her homing device. “I guess I knew that, since Penguin personally showed me around.”

Suddenly, she snapped her fingers. ‘The Gotham City coast is riddled with caves! Captain Cutler mentioned stories involving illicit use of them. I wonder if Penguin is using an undersea cavern beneath the lighthouse somewhere.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’m going to get wet again finding out.’

She slipped from beneath her cape and prepared her Bat-Respirator. She had not bothered to exchange the Bat-Fins for her boots, but employed a Batlight helmet she found in another Batboat locker.

Moments later, she plunged into the cold water once again, pleased at her decision to wear the costume incorporating a wetsuit into her eye-catching ensemble. Batgirl descended rapidly, her strong strokes moving her easily through the water. Soon, she found a huge opening in the rock wall before her and swam forward cautiously until she saw a pale light above.

Batgirl switched off her headlamp before silently surfacing in a dimly-lit cavern where half a dozen small undersea crafts bobbed beside a rock ledge, on which several barrels of fuel were securely bound. The dripping heroine climbed onto a convenient rock ledge and quickly found a metal ladder leading upward. Climbing quickly and quietly, she soon reached a chamber with four curtained bunks arranged against the walls with footlockers beneath them. Wetsuits were suspended from hangers hooked onto pegs driven into the cave wall beside each bunk.

Batgirl crossed the chamber and climbed a second ladder, which led her to a room where two of Penguin’s finks sat playing cards at a table. Another read the newspaper in a folding lounge chair while a fourth dozed on a cot that might serve double duty as a bench.

As Batgirl watched, the fink stretched on the cot stirred and the Penguin’s voice came clearly over a loudspeaker she had not noticed. “Attention, my fine, fiendish finks, the position of the Batboat has changed, This fact means Batgirl has escaped the underwater tomb we arranged for her. Less subtle arrangements for her terminal disappearance have become necessary. Sharpen your cutlasses and man your battle stations. There could easily be skullduggery ahead and very soon. Wak, wak, wak!”

The hidden heroine slipped off her Bat-Fins, climbed silently from the ladder onto the floor of the chamber, taking advantage of the momentary confusion following Penguin’s orders. Luck let her cross to the cot before the chamber’s occupants became aware of her. One of her famous showgirl kicks caught Bass, who had awakened and begun to rise, in the chin and lifted him into the air. He was unconscious when his prone body returned to the cot.

“It’s Batgirl!” Pike shouted. “She’s here right now!”

“She’s here right now!” the surprised voice of Parrot echoed.

“Come on!” Marlin urged. “Let’s get her!”

The finks charged at her and Batgirl met them, bull-rushing forward and slamming her elbows into the goons at the ends of the human wall. The thug in the center felt her shoulder slam into his breadbasket, taking his breath away. He then felt his feet leave the ground as he doubled over and she bore his weight until the back of his knees hit the table. Before the fink could rise, two fists hit his chin with the force of driven pistons and his head dropped over the edge of the table behind him.

“She got Parrot!” Marlin said.

“It’s still two against one,” Pike encouraged.

Batgirl somersaulted and did a handspring from the edge of the table before whirling in midair to land in a fighting stance before her attackers, who approached more warily from opposite directions. She stepped forward and took a chair in her hands before pivoting and sent Pike sprawling into a wall with her makeshift weapon, which fell to pieces. Two steps and a leaping, spinning kick took Pike out of the fight.

“Now, Mister Marlin, it’s you and me,” Batgirl said softly, reading the name on the thug’s shirt.

“You’ve been lucky so far, Batgirl, but everyone’s luck runs out sooner or later!” As Marlin spoke, he threw a punch at her and felt his blow blocked and his wrist seized in a grip of iron. Batgirl pulled him off balance as she stepped toward him and slammed her forearm into his exposed ribs. As Marlin gasped, Batgirl pivoted and threw him over her hip so he landed on top of Parrot and the table collapsed beneath them.

Parrot moaned and Marlin grunted as Batgirl dropped her knee into the center of Marlin’s chest. The heel of her hand slammed his head into the stone floor and ended the fight.

“You boys showed me a much better time at our second encounter,” Batgirl said, snapping Batcuffs on the last man’s wrists. “I’ll tell the police where to find you after I’ve dealt with your boss. They’ll have all the evidence they need down here to put you away for a very long time.” Without sparing the thugs a second look, Batgirl retrieved her fins, mounted a new ladder, and began ascending without engaging her head lamp.

“Where are the finks?” Cora Sayers demanded. “Their battle stations are not in the caves.”

“Did you ever find the Batboat’s position?” Penguin asked.

“No,” Cora Sayers answered. “If it came here, though, the cliff would have cut off my line of sight from where I was looking.” The young henchwoman had slid a knife into each of her boots and another blade hung at her hip from a leather belt. “You think Batgirl is here . . . now?”

“Of course she is! Wak!” Penguin replied. “The finks would be up here if she weren’t.”

“I thought you told me the vault the finks looted would make a tremendous, underwater tomb for her?”

“Indeed I did . . . and I still believe it should have.”

“So, your finks screwed up?”

“Perhaps. Wak! It’s also possible Batgirl found a way out through no fault of my finks.”

“How?”

“I can’t explain, except to point out Batgirl has an annoying habit of surviving deadly predicaments. Wak!”

“Well, I’ll dissect her for you after we catch her,” Cora Sayers offered, snatching the blades from her boots.

“I’ve a more laissez faire fate in mind for her, my dear. I’m sure you’ll like it. Wak, wak, wak!”

“With all due respect, Pengy, you said that about Batgirl’s undersea tomb,” Cora Sayers said, with a wan smile. “Of course, I did like it, but I’d have liked it a lot more if Batgirl were still there!”

“Phaw! Batman and his associates have the most inexplicable luck at sea!” Penguin blew a smoke ring and leaned toward his attractive accomplice, adopting a conspiratorial tone. “Now, we know Batgirl is coming here. Wak! That knowledge gives us the advantage . . . and the opportunity to personally say goodbye before she dies.”

Cora Sayers thought for a moment and laughed without humor. “I can’t wait,” she eagerly replied.

“Batgirl will be climbing through the trapdoor in a very few minutes. Wak!” Penguin began. “This is what we'll do.”

Batgirl felt the wooden floor of the lighthouse when she reached the top of the final ladder. “Onward and upward,” she muttered, pushing tentatively. The floor above her rose until a creak made Batgirl freeze. She could see a rectangle of light in front of her from which two thin triangles sloped away behind her on either side. Turning her head, Batgirl spotted a narrow band of light connecting the far points of each triangle. She was momentarily puzzled by the two breaks in the band. ‘Of course,’ she suddenly thought, resuming her stealthy climb. ‘Those breaks would be hinges since this is a trapdoor. Not surprisingly, Penguin omitted this little lighthouse feature from my tour.’

Batgirl had one bare foot flat on the floor and had turned to draw her other leg into the room when the trapdoor slammed onto her back with enough force to make her body collapse. Within seconds, she realized her torso was pinned in place, half in and half out of the aperture. Only one outstretched arm, a bent leg, and her head were completely free and her other arm was bent, caught between the trapdoor and the floor. Her remaining leg extended into the caves beneath her. Startled, she dropped the fins she carried; exhaled; and wondered if she would be allowed to fill her lungs again as a weight applied to the trapdoor compressed her chest involuntarily.

“I see why they call them trap doors!” Cora Sayers said, laughing and kneeling on top of the door, focusing all her weight on the breathless Batgirl’s shoulders. One second later, the Curved Crusader felt two sharp blades caressing her throat. “Now, if you move a muscle, I’ll decapitate you. Understand?”

“Yes,” Batgirl said, barely moving her lips and expelling what little air she had managed to inhale through her nose.

“Good girl,” Cora Sayers said, imbuing her voice with amusement. “She’s all yours, Pengy.”

“Well done, my dear,” Penguin complimented. “You’ve left her quite breathless. Wak!” Penguin stepped toward his accomplice twirling his umbrella casually. “The handle and shaft of this umbrella are made of graphite, which packs an impressive wallop, as I’m about to demonstrate!” Penguin stepped forward and whacked Batgirl’s skull with the handle of his bumbershoot.

“Hit her again, Pengy,” Cora Sayers urged. “I think she’s out cold, but it’s best to make sure.”

“I’d much rather you got off the trapdoor holding her in that rather tenuous position.”

Cora Sayers’s teeth flashed in a knowing grin. “I may have to give her a little push.”

“Oh, feel free, Wak!”

The henchwoman lifted the trapdoor and nudged Batgirl over the edge. The Curved Crusader's body followed her fins out of sight down the shaft without a sound. “As much as I enjoyed that, Pengy,” Cora Sayers began, “I thought you said you didn’t want Batgirl to die too quickly?”

“I sincerely doubt she’s dead, my dear. Not yet, anyway,” the Penguin assured her, “but she will be after I retrieve a few things from my criminal storeroom.”

“How can you be sure she didn’t crack her skull at the bottom of that shaft or break a limb when she landed?”

“The human body instinctively relaxes when falling to absorb the shock of impact. I’d wager Batgirl survived her fall quite intact. Now, go down and repair the damage she did to the finks. Then, tell them to bring her and her things to your lighthouse lamp room. We’ll conclude our uninvited visitor’s existence there – and slowly, as I promised. Wak, wak, wak!”

“It will be my pleasure,” Cora Sayers said, putting her knives away and beginning to descend the ladder. Penguin’s gaze remained transfixed upon her until she was completely out of sight, but the lascivious smile remained in place on his lips.

Batgirl was conscious of nothing but pain when she recovered. She moaned and tried to move a hand to her throbbing temple. Another hand, however, gripped her wrist and wrenched her arm back to its original position with enough force to cause a sharp, new pain in her shoulder.

When that pain ebbed, four distinct clicks heralded an excruciating tide of agony. It washed over her inexorably like onrushing waves until welcome numbness replaced the torturous sensations. The lingering torment and the echoes of the clicks Batgirl had heard utterly overwhelmed her. With a suddenness that seemed to take her breath away, the kaleidoscope of uncomfortable sensation vanished with a painfully exhaled breath. The pain dispersed and transformed into black, irresistible emptiness. Somehow, Batgirl was aware of the nothingness around her as it slowly enveloped her, swallowing her completely. She gratefully welcomed the void.

Later, Batgirl’s eyes fluttered open when her active mind returned to consciousness. As pain-free awareness asserted itself, it seemed she was staring at blazing hellfire. Her mind reviewed the events leading to her unconsciousness and brought her to the realization she was staring at the fires of a huge furnace.

“No!” Batgirl weakly protested. “I can’t be here. It’s not fair!”

An incongruous shiver enabled her to reanalyze her situation. The intense heat that should have accompanied the blazing firelight was absent. She moaned and emptied her lungs, relaxing as her head, which had instinctively risen to examine her surroundings, settled back to the level of her shoulder blades. The Angelic Avenger blinked, incoherently mumbling, “I’m not in Hell! I’m still alive! It’s . . . it’s not a fire at all . . . it’s the sunset.” She could feel her chest expanding as she wondered, ‘Has time been standing still? Dusk was just falling when I first arrived back here.’

“I think she’s finally awake, Pengy,” a bored, female voice announced.

“Wak! Have patience, my pretty pirate,” the Penguin admonished. “Savor the enemy’s complete helplessness. Note the effects of your ‘hospitality’ on her mind and body. Wak! Batgirl is in our power and can do nothing to prevent us from doing precisely as we please with her!”

“You have a good point, Pengy,” the girl replied, showing more interest.

“Of course I do, Cora. Now, before we leave Batgirl, she’ll come to understand what utter defeat means. Wak, wak, wak! Finks, close the cage and position the captive for her dénouement.”

“She is so hot,” Marlin observed.

“She has always been hot,” Pike replied.

“She has always been hot,” Parrot agreed, laughing.

“I hope she likes it hot,” Bass contributed, grinning, “because it’s only going to get hotter!”

As Batgirl began to concentrate, listening to her captors’ words, she slowly grew aware of her surroundings and her position. She was lying on her back with her arms and legs splayed, stretched to their maximum. Metal shackles held her limbs rigid with her wrists and ankles as close to the corners of a rectangular, metal frame as they could get. ‘Those echoing clicks had been the shackles being fastened,’ she realized. Her helmet and utility belt had been removed, but she retained her gloves and cowl.

Her mind slowly reviewed and interpreted the events she recalled from her ordeal since her capture. First, there had been pain and breathlessness while she had been held pinched between the heavy trapdoor and the lighthouse floor. These sensations had been magnified after she had been pushed down the shaft to the cave where she had left Penguin’s shackled finks. The girl, Cora Sayers, had come as she had recovered her breath and found the keys to the finks’ shackles. They had taken her soon thereafter and used her Batcuffs to fasten her to some kind of flat surface. At the time, her perceptions had been too distorted to clearly realize what was being done to her.

Now, Penguin’s finks approached her again and closed a shallow dome of metal bars over her body. As the finks fastened the dome into place with three locks, Batgirl realized it was almost identical to the flat surface upon which she lay. The difference between the top and bottom of her prison was the curvature of the bars above her. Once the odd cage was closed, Batgirl felt the upper bars come into contact with her body, pressing slightly without crushing her. The clang of the closing cage had not been overwhelming, and her body was no longer wracked with continuous pain. She could, however, feel where there would be ugly bruises if she survived whatever fate Penguin had planned for her. The other aspect of her situation offering hope was the steady, regular rise and fall of her chest, which she watched while her mind calmed. Regardless of Batgirl’s relative comfort, she was held completely immobile.

“It looks like Batgirl is feeling the pinch again,” Cora Sayers enthused, grinning wickedly.

“Just wait,” Penguin replied, his voice betraying anticipation, delight, and amusement. “It’s fair to say we haven’t even gotten warmed up yet. Wak, wak, wak!”

Suddenly, Batgirl felt her upper body lifted and she realized her strange prison could pivot on a horizontal bar and the corners had been resting on blocks making the barred surface beneath her flat while she had been secured. Now, she was positioned vertically and two metal bolts secured the bottom of her prison to a circular, metal platter beneath it. Penguin stood smoking and watching his finks retreat with the blocks upon which the cage had rested while Cora Sayers stood posed behind him, regarding the unfolding scene with malicious interest.

“Welcome back, Batgirl. The time has come to show you Cora’s lighthouse from a most unique perspective. Before your second tour concludes, I assure you, your existence will have certainly done so as well. Wak, wak, wak!”

“Penguin, you will neither profit from my murder, nor get away with it,” Batgirl declared. She was delighted her voice sounded stronger than her body felt.

“I do admire your spirit, Batgirl. You’re always so optimistic facing certain death.”

“That’s because I’m still so very much alive after you and your criminal ilk have tried to kill me so many times, Penguin!” Batgirl declared. “I can only imagine how depressing such frequent failure must be. Why don’t you just give up and surrender?”

“Phaw! Only one of these traps needs to function as planned a single time!” Penguin pointed out. “I assure you, Batgirl, this time, you’re quite finished! Within hours of sunset, your colorful career will have come to a most illuminating end. Wak, wak, wak!”

“Sure it will,” Batgirl teased.

“You know something, Batgirl?” Cora Sayers asked, approaching the captive and pulling out two knives. “You really have a smart mouth.” The henchwoman turned toward Penguin, a blade flashing in each hand. “I don’t see why we’re taking what she’s dishing out. Why don’t you just let me go to work on her? There’s nothing she could do about it and . . . ” Cora turned back toward Batgirl and leaned close, “it would be so much more . . . intimate.”

With Cora’s hot breath in her face, Batgirl swallowed hard. ‘Perhaps I over-played my hand! I don’t think Penguin would let his girl simply knife me, but if she suggests something like death by a thousand cuts . . . .’

“Penguin wants to tell me how he imagines I’ll die--this time,” Batgirl explained, hoping to prick the supercriminal’s pride. “What he doesn’t realize is, he’ll never succeed. Batman and I have both told him repeatedly, ‘Crime doesn’t pay.’ After awhile, you’d think a villain with such renowned intellect would get the message.”

“The message,” Cora Sayers retorted, “is a cliché, or perhaps he ignores it because it’s—”

“Ladies!” Penguin interrupted, raising one hand for silence. His voice softened once he had both women’s attention. “Wak! Please allow me to get down to business.”

During the pause in which Penguin once again became the center of attention, Cora whirled away and walked to his side. Batgirl, having escaped vivisection, now had to consider what would come next. Given what she had already suffered at the Penguin and Cora Sayers’ capable hands, she did not look forward to learning how they planned to kill her. ‘Dwelling on the possibilities, though, is pointless,’ Batgirl thought.

The Curved Crusader had no illusions about how right Penguin was with his previous statement. Any bizarre, deadly situation in which she was placed would only need to succeed once for her perfect record of life-saving escapes to become meaningless. Now, she felt a chill having nothing to do with the coming of night traverse her spine as the Penguin regarded her steadily through his monocle and a haze of smoke. Batgirl willed herself to keep her face impassive as she stared at her would-be killer.

Irrational fear gnawed at her psyche until Penguin continued, giving the captive something upon which to focus and breaking the building tension. “Lighthouses, Batgirl, come in two types, as you may be aware. A revolving lighthouse generates a periodic flash, or characteristic, of which passing vessels are aware so that the lighthouse may be identified. In this way, mariners may avoid any hazards associated with the lighthouse. The lantern pivots slowly on a clockwork mechanism manipulated either automatically or by the lighthouse keeper. Such a light can be seen over a greater expanse of sea.”

“Fascinating,” Batgirl said, trying to sound bored.

“The other type of lighthouse uses a fixed lantern that does not move at all. You’ll soon realize we have a fixed lantern here as the light shines continuously.”

Without changing her expression, Batgirl sarcastically invited, “Any time you’d like to make a point . . . .”

“Regardless of the type of lighthouse, lenses are employed in conjunction with the lanterns to magnify and project the light farther,” Penguin went on, indicating an enormous, glass disk between Batgirl and the lighthouse lantern. ”Historically, lighthouses all over the world used convex lenses like this one, which incorporates several internal prisms to reflect and refract the light, thus intensifying it.”

“These lenses were top of the line back in the day and very expensive,” Cora Sayers explained. “They were manufactured in France and called Fresnel Lenses, after their inventor.”

“Precisely,” Penguin concurred. “The lens you see here, Batgirl, is of the fourth order, a middle of the road model commonly used on the Great Lakes to mark islands and shoals in harbors. It is nearly twenty-eight and one-half feet tall; weighs between 440 and 660 pounds; is almost two and a half times as bright as the weakest type of lens; and magnifies light so that it can be seen for up to fifteen nautical miles. You, however, need only concern yourself with how well the lens focuses the heat accompanying the light. Wak, wak, wak!”

“I gather you plan to cook me with this antique lens,” Batgirl said grimly.

“Given your closeness to the heat source, I believe the process would more accurately be called broiling,” Penguin smoothly replied. “Wak! As my finks have already indicated, we’re going to show you a very hot time tonight, Batgirl, a very hot time indeed.” He indicated a switch on one wall. “The machinery incorporates a Sun Valve, which regulates the lantern appropriately once it’s engaged. Cora, would you care to do the honors?”

“Certainly, Penguin,” his attractive assistant delightedly said. “It will be a pleasure.” She wiggled her way to a switch and threw it into the “on” position. ”There. Batgirl is now bound for oblivion, after a lengthy detour in Hell!” Cora Sayers and the henchmen all laughed.

“Wak, wak, wak! Indeed,” the Penguin crowed, favoring Cora Sayers with an appreciative smile before turning his attention to his comely captive. “Now, Batgirl, the Sun Valve is a truly ingenious device. It consists of three gilt, light-reflecting rods surrounding a blackened, light-absorbing rod. Shortly, the blackened rod will contract and engage the gas valve, which will light the beacon from a small pilot flame. At dawn, the black rod will expand after absorbing a sufficient amount of light and taking on a slightly higher temperature than the shiny rods. At such time, a device which cuts off the gas and switches off the lighthouse light will be triggered.”

“The Sun Valve is Gustaf Dalén’s most famous invention, from 1907,” Cora Sayers added. “Compared with keeping the beacon going, the device saves ninety-four percent of the gas we would otherwise use.”

“Fascinating,” Batgirl replied, her voice brimming with sarcasm. “You’re both to be commended for being conservation minded.”

“Since you’re our guest, Batgirl,” Cora Sayers said, “we’d rather talk about you. As long as you’re visible in the bright light, you’ll feel the heat and become a glowing, human ember very, very slowly.”

“There are just two more tiny things to which to attend, before we leave you, Batgirl,” Penguin said. “Put her belt, her helmet, and her fins inside the lantern. Batgirl can watch her hopes of escape go up in smoke as her flesh browns, along with all evidence she was ever here. Wak, wak, wak!”

“What a good idea,” Cora Sayers said, laughing delightedly as she obeyed. “Oh! I have another good idea.” She quickly searched the utility belt and found Batgirl’s tinted goggles. “These should protect your eyes from the light for awhile . . . at least . . . until they melt.” She positioned the goggles over Batgirl’s eyes and stepped back, regarding her handiwork with a satisfied laugh.

“Capital, Cora,” Penguin complimented. “You’ve had and excellent idea. Wak! We wouldn’t want Batgirl to be blinded and unable to see this arrangement’s effectiveness as our tasty morsel sizzles. Wak, wak, wak! Now, I’ve reserved the pleasure of turning on the victim’s rotisserie for myself.” Penguin tapped a button beneath Batgirl with the tip of his umbrella, causing the platter to which the cage had been bolted begin to slowly turn. The villains watched as Batgirl spun completely around twice. “I wanted to see that your body cooked evenly. I’m certain the low percentage of fat in your physical profile will insure that you’re very well done by dawn, Batgirl, simmered slowly in your own very succulent juices. I hope you enjoy our warm hospitality while you last. Wak!” Penguin turned away and stepping toward the spiral stairs.

“Low percentage of body fat and succulent juices,” Cora Sayers muttered. “She’ll be nothing but a well-endowed ember, following the afterglow, like I said.”

“Give credit where it’s due, my comely Cora,” Penguin said. “Batgirl won’t be the same in the morning, after all. Wak, wak, wak!” Penguin turned his head to regard the doomed daredevil. “Come, everyone. We’ve an airtight alibi to arrange. Goodnight, Batgirl, and goodbye, forever.”

Once their boss had gone, each of the finks stood to watch Batgirl’s body revolve before them again before following with looks that combined delight and dismay. None of them said a word.

Cora Sayers followed, but paused, framed in the door. Her teeth flashed in a wicked grin before touching her fingertips to her lips, turning her hand, and blowing a farewell kiss toward the captive cutie. “Penguin is right, Batgirl. I really do owe you some credit. Long before the end, you literally will be smoking hot.” Her laughter mingled with the echoes of the male villains’ mirth as she took her leave.

For a time, the only sound disturbing the silence of the lamp room was the hum of the motor driving Batgirl’s dizzying doom. Minutes seemed like hours as they crawled by, everything around Batgirl cooled, and the hellish light of dusk diminished to nothing.

The world changed quite suddenly when the lantern flared into brilliant life. The intense heat took Batgirl’s breath away while flames engulfed her utility belt, the helmet, and the fins. The air she inhaled was hot and her mind reeled. Desperately, Batgirl hoped her chances for survival had not literally gone up in smoke with the belt and all the miraculous wonders it contained. As her equipment’s ashes settled, Batgirl went on slowly spinning and cooking.

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