A Tiny Stitch in a Tapestry of Crime

Trapped inside the Riddler’s gigantic jar, Batgirl knew she could do nothing to combat the sweltering heat from the ferocious flames flickering all around her. The deceptively strong, glass walls of her prison would magnify and intensify the heat. The jar would also stand up to any brute force with which she could possibly attack.

Sweat glistened on the bare flesh of her face, while slowly saturating her costume, her cowl, and her wig. Additional sweat streamed between her body and her costume, scalding her flesh as firelight cast dancing shadows against the covered contours of her voluptuous body.

Batgirl’s current, dire predicament was hardly the first time the Riddler had left her to 'feel the heat.' He had tossed her into his little used gymnasium’s steam room at their first meeting and had arrived later to demonstrate some of its lethal, special features. On another occasion, he had captured her and arranged to have her body melted into ink, with which he proposed to print commemorative posters in her honor. During their most recent encounter, he had trapped both her and Lieutenant Diana Mooney in the showers at one of Gotham City’s closed public beach houses and tried to drown them in boiling water. Later, when the villain had nearly carried out his plans, he tried to remedy Batgirl’s escape by showering her with molten metal.

On some of those occasions, the Curved Crusader had turned traps’ features to her favor and escaped. As steam formed a thin, warm mist around her, she wondered whether it would be possible to do so again.

Currently, Batgirl’s only restraint was the rope binding her wrists behind her back. She reasoned freeing herself from the single binding would be simple enough, but afterward, she had no idea how she would escape.

Riddler had, after all, deliberately separated her from her utility belt, which kept an arsenal of wondrous weaponry for her war against crime closely wrapped around her waist. The gadgets and tools she carried in her golden girdle had enabled her to perform seemingly miraculous escapes from countless perils she had faced over the years.

She was, however, prepared for this common tactic. With a shrug, she reached for a knife concealed in one flange of her gloves. She tugged at it and frowned when it fell, clattering to the jar's glass floor. She knelt and maneuvered her hands to pick up the blade. Standing once again, she turned its sharp edge toward her bonds and began to cut them patiently, letting the weight of the knife do most of the work. Slowly, the strands of rope separated and she hoped further inspiration would come.

Earlier, while Riddler returned to gloat over his helpless captive, Zoe slipped on a trench coat and a pair of boots before hurrying outside with the case of money Batgirl had brought in exchange for the release of Tim Tyler, Junior’s, half-sister. Clock King emerged from a waiting car and met her seconds after she came into view.

“How did the exchange go?” he asked.

“Very well,” Zoe replied. “The surprise we arranged for Batgirl was also successful. So, I think Riddler will be rid of her before morning. I need to get back quickly. I’m missing her denouement.”

“I’m afraid we didn’t have enough notice to match the case properly,” Clock King said seriously. “Give the money to Jamie and he’ll take care of everything.” Zoe handed the case to the Scots boy waiting inside the car. “Have you found out anything else about Riddler’s plans?”

“I’m going to infiltrate Tim Tyler, Junior’s, family and report on things I learn about his friends.” She laughed. “Riddler is right about people giving secrets away when they’re socializing.”

“I think five million American dollars will cover our expenses for this adventure quite nicely,” Clock King mused. “So far, our plan is working perfectly. Keep me informed of anything you discover and think would be of interest.”

“Of course, I will, your Majesty,” Zoe said, favoring him with a courtly curtsey. “Will the gas I told you about be useful?”

“Oh yes. I think so,” Clock King happily replied. “The new Second Hands I‘ve ‘recruited’ have no idea about anything except that they are to obey my commands.”

“Splendid,” Zoe said. “What do you imagine would happen if someone were to be exposed to the gas and not given any sort of direction?”

“Well,” Clock King mused, “I would think such a person would lose his or her identity and need to be almost completely re-educated. The longer a subject went without direction, the more apparent and urgent these needs would naturally become.”

“Interesting,” Zoe mused. The car door opened and Jamie returned the case that once held the ransom money.

“Right, Zoe,” Clock King said. “You’re serving me very well. Keep up the good work and do keep in touch.”

“Thank you, your Majesty,” she said. “I certainly will.” Zoe left the Metamorphosis Formula-influenced Time Lord with another curtsey before hurrying back inside the candle factory with the case.

“Fascinating,” the girl mused shortly thereafter, watching Batgirl sweat as the Riddler entered the room and found her.

“I’ll say,” he agreed, drinking in the site of the perfectly proportioned young woman clad in glittering silver as she stepped back from the device and turned to regard him.

“Well, now I know who watches the watcher,” she said, grinning. “I can also guess why.”

Riddler spread his hands and approached her, wrapping his arms around her and feeling her lean against his chest. “How can I possibly help myself?” he asked softly, leaning close to her ear.

“Don’t let me distract you, darling. Your candle scope is working beautifully. I’ve learned Batgirl doesn’t carry all her toys in her utility belt.”

“You’ve discovered something? What is Batgirl doing?”

“She’s cutting herself free from her bonds,” the girl reported. She had shed her coat and boots on her way back to the room housing the unique periscope.

“Let me see,” Riddler said, releasing her.

“Sure.”

Riddler was frowning when Zoe stepped back, but she was grinning as she studied the super villain watching Gotham City’s greatest female escape artist in action.

“It makes sense,” Riddler said. “Nine out of ten villains agree depriving these heroes of their utility belts is essential when trying to kill them. Doing so is, after all, an obvious precautionary measure. So, Batgirl’s hidden tools elsewhere on her person.”

“It’s a shame, really,” Zoe said.

“You’re right,” Riddler angrily agreed. “I’ve been playing this super criminal game long enough I should have realized my enemies must be carrying crimefighting tools in places besides their utility belts.” He became more thoughtful. “I’ll need to approach these instances of impossible Bat-survival as though they were riddles.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry,” Zoe said consolingly. “Batgirl seems to be sizzling along nicely on her scheduled journey to oblivion.” She smiled engagingly as her eyes glittered. “What I meant to say is, it’s a shame Batgirl cutting herself free won’t do her a bit of good.”

“Of course it won’t,” Riddler agreed. “The facts no knife can penetrate the glass surrounding her and the human body is mostly composed of water are inescapable. The heat will draw every ounce of moisture from her body as though a sponge were being slowly squeezed. The water will all convert into scorching steam.”

“So, Batgirl’s end is a forgone conclusion.”

“Indeed,” Riddler agreed. “Have another look before the steam obscures her completely.” The perfidious pair changed places.

“You’re right, it is getting hard to see her in there,” Zoe disappointedly said. “Watching will be utterly pointless in a matter of minutes. Shall I put your candle scope away?”

“I suppose so. You know, when we first discussed this plan, I was afraid you’d be soft.”

She pushed the handles of the scope against the device’s sides and raised it out of the way. “Oh, no, Riddler. I’m not at all soft. We cannot afford emotions such as pity. Speaking of our plans, how soon would you like me to begin getting acquainted with Tim Tyler, Junior?”

“Since you’re supposed to be his half-sister, I think we’ll introduce you to the family later this morning.”

Zoe favored him with a coy smile and sparkling eyes as she leaned toward Riddler and let her hands remain resting on the candle scope above her. “Then we have a long night ahead of us . . . and five million reasons to celebrate.”

“Indeed we do, my dear,” Riddler agreed. “I couldn’t have acquired that fantastic fortune without you.”

“In that case, since you know I’m not soft, until I go to work on Tim Tyler, Junior, I’d like you to think of me as a woman you’ve just bought.”

“What a good idea. I’m sure we’d be much more comfortable elsewhere.”

“You’re probably right,” Zoe said, glancing around the room with a frown. She was, however, grinning as she moved toward the Riddler and wound her arms around his neck. “Shall we go?”

“I think I’ll carry you,” Riddler decided, picking up his petite henchwoman, cradling her in his arms, and bending his mouth to kiss her ripe, slightly parted lips. “After all, five million dollars is a lot of money.” The kiss lasted a long moment. “Speaking of our money, what happened to it?”

“I put it in the private elevator before I started watching Batgirl stew. We wouldn’t want to forget the ransom for which we came.”

“Good girl,” he praised, carrying her from the room.

“You have no idea how right you are,” Zoe agreed, drawing her mouth to his again. Once their kiss had broken, she grinned at him and continued, “I’ll demonstrate soon enough, though. After all, you’re right. Five million dollars is a lot of money. Now, let’s have some fun.” As she spoke, Zoe’s hands fell away from his neck and her shoulders moved inside her catsuit, which somehow unzipped. The glittering garment peeled back from her flesh like a flower’s petals. After a mere second, her bare arms emerged, wrapping around Riddler’s neck again. He kissed her slowly in response, pulling gently so that her shoulders and chest came free of the garment as though a beautiful, feminine flower were blooming into the ripe fullness of womanhood.

Shortly thereafter, the rope fell away from Batgirl’s wrists and she put her knife away. She was conscious of the steam around her as she breathed. “I must already look like a ripe tomato,” the Curved Crusader murmured. She reached out and touched the glass in front of her, quickly withdrawing her gloved hand. “What a surprise? It's hot.”

Batgirl let out a breath and realized she had not noticed how scalding the steamy air she was breathing had become. ‘Is my mouth dry?’ she asked herself. She knew her flesh was streaming with sweat from every pore in her body, but had not considered what the hot air would do to the interior of her mouth. Unsure, she frowned, glancing at the candles around her. Batgirl was surprised at how little they had burned down.

One consolation her predicament offered was the way the intense heat soothed the lingering pain associated with her bruises. This benefit would, of course, be temporary if the arrangement killed her. ‘Pain will hardly matter after I die!’ she thought. 'I’ve got to get out of here!’

She considered trying to topple the jar and get away from the burning candles, but knew she would not be able to do so without knocking some of them over and risking an inferno she would never escape. ‘I can’t cause a fire, but if the jar fell over, I could at least go to work on the top of it,’ Batgirl thought. ‘I wonder . . . .’

She pressed herself against the side of the jar and raised one leg. Her outstretched toe was still more than a foot from the top of the jar.

“Okay,” she said and pressed her foot against the opposite side of the jar as she lowered her leg. Then, she pressed both hands against the hot glass at her sides and raised her remaining leg to a point above the first outstretched limb. “Good,” she encouraged, holding her position rigidly for a moment. “Now, up I go.” Ignoring the temperature of the glass, she slid one hand upward and then the other before moving her legs, shoulders, and corresponding hands up the side of the jar.

In this way, Batgirl inched upward a yard before lifting one leg and stretching a toe so it could touch the cap of the jar. “Yes!” she enthused.

More of the blades Batgirl carried were concealed in the toes of her boots. She moved one foot beneath the back of her opposite heel to tap it and activate the trigger, springing the blade from the toe of her upper foot. She then raised the leg from which her blade protruded, kicking vigorously at the top of the jar and letting the blade impale the cork cap close to the rim. Again and again, the blade dug into the cork cover. Soon, Batgirl had to climb down from her elevated position and rest. Her chest heaved and she rested her hands on her knees, bending to inhale the cooler air in the depths of the jar.

The candles surrounding her prison were burning away at a horrifically slow pace.

Finally, Batgirl stepped to one side and pressed her limbs against the hot sides of the jar again. She climbed back up to where she could renew her assault on the jar’s cover. Time dragged as her blade repeatedly penetrated the jar cover. Again she rested, moved to the side, and renewed her attack. Finally, after a hellish eternity, the Pretty Paragon’s efforts were rewarded.

“Yes!” Batgirl enthused. The cork cover shifted!

She was far from free and still broiling rapidly when her blade retracted. She dropped to the bottom of the jar and jumped to grip its rim. She turned her hands so she could face the center of the jar and kicked at the cork seal again. She heard a noise and saw wax fall along the outside of the jar.

She was amazed at how tall the candles still were, but told herself time would move at a deceptively slow pace for her as long as she remained trapped in Riddler’s deadly jar.

Batgirl kicked fiercely at the jar’s cork lid and saw the top shift again and more wax fall. As Batgirl’s efforts created a gap between the rim of the jar and the cover, steam billowed through the aperture. Batgirl felt the welcome caress of cool air against her face.

“Come on!” she excitedly cried, flinging both feet at the top of the jar. The cork top came completely free from the jar, but fell back into place, cutting off the cloud of rising steam and preventing its release.

“All right!” Batgirl let go of the rim with one hand and pressed at the top, which shifted slightly. She dropped to the bottom of the jar and leaped at the center of the lid, lifting and thrusting it away so the remainder of the trapped steam escaped as the jar’s cover flew over the ring of burning candles surrounding the enclosure.

The candles had not burned down nearly as much as Batgirl thought they should have, given the length of time she seemed to have been trapped.

Dropping back into the jar, the Dark Angel of Gotham City rested, rebuilding the strength that had ebbed away in the course of her efforts toward escape. She realized the adrenaline boost that had largely fueled her frenzied activity moments ago was gone. With a last determined effort, Batgirl jumped, gripped the rim of the jar and pulled herself up. Batgirl felt cool air envelope her entire body as she gathered herself, balancing on the rim of the jar. After a moment, she jumped over the candles to the floor.

Down and safe, Batgirl was almost completely spent.

After a long moment, she slowly moved to where her utility belt had been flung carelessly aside and buckled it into place around her waist. Her next priority was to extinguish the candles surrounding the jar, thus eliminating the potential of a fire. Finally, Batgirl searched the factory for the Riddler or clues to his plans, but found nothing but the synthetic gloves Zoe had worn to incapacitate her. These, along with an explanatory note, she resolved to send to Police Headquarters through a messenger service.

At Barbara Gordon’s apartment, the still-sweating sentinel soaked in a cool bath to treat her scalded flesh and applied healing ointment to the bruises and blisters she could reach. Finally, she gratefully crawled into her bed, where she gave in to exhaustion, knowing how lucky she was to have survived her ordeal.

Later, in a sumptuous, secure suite on one of the upper floors of the candle factory, accessible only via a private, concealed elevator, the green-robed villain retrieved the money case he and Zoe had brought with them and set it atop the dresser. “Five million dollars . . .and what a celebration of its acquisition,” he said, glancing at the door, behind which he could hear the shower running. He paused, perfectly still for a moment, when his gaze returned to the case. Then he opened it, giggling hysterically.

His happiness transformed instantly when he saw the contents of the case. “No!” he cried. Riddler bent over the open case and glared fixedly at its contents for a long moment before spinning around and pounding on it in frustration. “It’s impossible! I checked this money personally after we took it from Batgirl. The light is admittedly much better here, but still . . . .”

In the shower, Zoe suppressed her delighted laughter as she heard the Riddler’s anguished cry. She turned the water off and composed herself while rubbing herself dry. She wore a concerned look on her pretty face while knotting a robe around her waist and returning to the Riddler’s presence. “What’s wrong?” she asked, feigning concern.

“Junior paid us off with counterfeit money!” Riddler angrily replied, lifting his head from the hand where it rested on an elbow atop the dresser. He shook his head as he went on, “I can’t believe I missed this while we still had Batgirl to question.”

“Well,” Zoe began, consolingly, “by this time, hot bones and perhaps a splotch of grease are all that’s left of Batgirl. We could always check, if you're really interested. I’d imagine she was behind the deception, wouldn’t you?”

“I’m sure she experienced both excruciating pain and exquisite agony before the end,” Riddler said. “That’s at least something! Viewing Batgirl’s remains would accomplish nothing. I don’t . . . understand . . . . how the switch got past me . . . .”

“It’s amazing what can happen in the dark,” the girl said, wrapping her arms around Riddler’s waist. “Batgirl isn’t the only one who had an exquisite experience last night. If you want, we could always delay my introduction to my half-brother a little longer. I know I can cheer you up.”

“No, my dear, he is the only person in Gotham City we’re in a position to punish for my mistake last night. I will not be played for a fool! Get me the society page of the paper. We’ll go over Mr. Tyler’s published itinerary for the day while you get dressed. Then, you’ll go to work and I will have to come up with some profoundly puzzling riddles with which to confound the still-living Bats, when they come after us.”

“Whatever you say, Riddler, baby,” Zoe said, squeezing his waist in her arms before releasing him and reaching for the newspaper one of the henchmen had purchased and delivered upon his employer's instructions. Riddler could not interpret the smile that curled her pretty mouth as she unfolded the paper and presented it, but was soon too engrossed in his reading to concern himself with the problem.

By the time Zoe had slid back into her catsuit, the villain was smiling and staring fixedly at the newspaper spread on the desk. “Progress?” she asked.

“Last night I clued Batgirl in to the venue for our crime, but didn’t have all the details firmly in mind. Now that I’ve read this article, our little conundrum is solved and the pieces of my perfidious criminal puzzle have fallen into place.” Riddler stood, giggled, turned, and gestured at the room grandly.

“So, you think you’ll be able to recover the money Batgirl kept from you?” Zoe asked.

“Perhaps, with your able help. I’ve conceived our crime for this afternoon, but the proper riddles are still eluding me. Read this over while I get cleaned up.”

Zoe skimmed the article he indicated and grinned, reaching for her cell phone. Once she had been put through to the other party, she spoke quickly and quietly. “Please listen, your Majesty, I may not have much time. Tim Tyler, Junior, will be entertaining several bejeweled beauties this afternoon, the most notable of whom is Amber Forever of the Forever Jewel Company. She won’t wear anything famous, but the combined value of her mobile collection is staggering. The Society page of The Gotham City Herald has most of the details. You know, it’s just occurred to me how empty my jewelry box seems.”

“I’m sure we can find you a few lovely trinkets, Zoe,” Clock King softly said. He smiled and let his voice express his delight. “You’re performing beautifully—”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I value your praise as much as I enjoyed Riddler’s reaction to our latest move against him.”

“He knows we switched the money?”

“I blamed the late Batgirl and he bought it.” Zoe laughed softly, letting a self-satisfied smirk cross her pretty face. “He claims he won’t be played for a fool, when in fact—”

“Yes, Zoe. I know. You’re brilliant,” Clock King praised, his gentle voice imbued with genuine pleasure. “I’ll talk to you this afternoon. Goodbye.”

“Thank you again, Your Majesty. I have to go. Goodbye.” Both parties hung up.

Later, Lieutenant Mooney joined the Commissioner, Chief O’Hara, and Batgirl for a council of war in the Commissioner’s office. Batgirl finished describing the hostage payoff and subsequent events.

“The lab boys found knockout powder on the gloves you sent to us,” Lieutenant Mooney, who had been in charge when they had arrived, said. “Unfortunately, the powder was not that unusual.”

Batgirl, the Commissioner and the Chief looked at the Lieutenant in surprise.

“Well, for knockout powder – what I mean is, the Riddler could have gotten it, as well as the gloves, anywhere, so that line of evidence is a dead end.”

“I was afraid it would be, but we had to try,” Batgirl said. “What about the girl, Zoe?”

“She’s safely with Tim Tyler, Junior, now,” the Commissioner reported.

“Sure an’ she showed up saying she knew absolutely nothing about the Riddler’s plans and just wanted to get to know her half-brother,” Chief O’Hara said. “We didn’t know she had worn the gloves that put you at Riddler’s mercy.”

“It’s possible she had no idea the gloves were tainted,” Batgirl said. “On the other hand, her turning up and then getting immediately kidnapped by Riddler struck me as being awfully convenient.”

“Are you sayin’ . . . the wee lass is workin’ with that devil, the Riddler?!” the Chief asked incredulously. “Hey! We suspected someone was helpin’ him ever since he escaped!”

“If she has been helping Riddler all along, and she knew about the gloves being tainted,” the Commissioner said, “she’d be an accessory to attempted murder and a host of other crimes.” The Commissioner frowned and his face hardened as a realization struck him. “Their crime wave has barely begun!”

“I’ve been thinking along similar lines,’ Batgirl admitted seriously. “I’m far from prepared to make accusations—of any kind.” The superheroine turned to her best friend on the police force. “Diana, did you follow my suggestion and make the inquiries I recommended when I had the gloves delivered here?”

“Yes, Batgirl,” her friend said. “I spoke to Superintendant Watson of venerable Ireland Yard and he indicated the girl’s picture did not match any mug shots on file at his office. He is still looking for official government documents to confirm her identity, but his research will take time.”

“Thank you for your help,” Batgirl said, nodding. “We don’t know enough to dismiss my suspicions, but I can say I saw nothing to convince me the apparent basis for last night’s adventures was staged, either.”

“Either way, the punctuated fiend is probably laughing at us somewhere!” the Commissioner said, glowering.

“He’ll be surprised when he learns Batgirl survived his trap,” Lieutenant Mooney said, grinning.

“We can congratulate ourselves when we stop him,” the Commissioner said seriously. “I was hoping we’d have more to go on than his riddles.”

“We still haven’t quite figured out what the answers to his previous two riddles – match and name – mean,” Batgirl said.

“He gave you some others?” Commissioner Gordon asked.

“He gave me two more before he left me to die,” Batgirl answered. “He began with a preamble, which is unusual: Think not of body parts, tools, or weapons as your riddle me this: What is put on a table, cut, but never eaten?”

“Two riddles in one!” Chief O’Hara said. “He’s sure a tricky devil.”

“He’s prolific, too,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “There was another riddle as well?”

“Right, Diana. It went: When I am filled I can point the way. When I am empty, nothing moves me. I have two skins - One without and one within. What am I?”

“We still have time to solve these riddles, don’t we, Batgirl?” the Commissioner asked.

“Riddler was busy last night, with the kidnapping and trying to kill me,” Batgirl thoughtfully said. “I think we can safely assume he will strike sometime today.”

“What events are we covering this afternoon, Chief?” the Commissioner asked.

“Well, for the most part, it’s a pretty standard day. I’ve detailed officers to direct traffic, we have a few men providing additional security for politicians addressing the press, we have a special event at the Gotham City Convention Hall, an arts festival at Washington Center, an unveiling at the Parkhurst Gallery, and this afternoon’s Eagles game. I see nothing out of the ordinary for a typical autumn day in our fair city.”

“We’ll keep these venues in mind as we consider these riddles,” Batgirl said. “What is put on a table, cut, but never eaten?”

“It isn’t a meal or a snack,” Chief O’Hara said. “What about a display?”

“I think a display would usually involve a window or a case rather than a table, sir,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “What besides food can be cut?”

“Prior to editing, a film would have a 'rough cut' and Riddler has based crimes on film before,” Batgirl said.

“Any assumptions we are making about this cutting are probably wrong,” the Commissioner said. “What can be cut without a blade?”

Bonnie, the Commissioner’s secretary stepped into the Commissioner’s office. “Excuse me, sir. You asked me to remind you to call the visiting forensic scientist from Central City, Barry Allen.”

“Thank you, Bonnie. Calling Mr. Allen won’t take long. He gave us the results of the test on those gloves in record time,” the Commissioner explained. ”I wanted to thank him personally.”

“He said he would be heading for home immediately after lunch,” the Commissioner’s secretary said. “He left a business card with his number while you were out.”

“That’s it, Bonnie!” Batgirl said.

“What?” the newcomer inquired.

“I think I know,” the Commissioner said. “You play cards at a table and cut them before each hand is dealt.” He quickly explained about the riddle. “Now, to figure out what the cards mean, we’re not to consider body parts, tools, or weapons.”

Batgirl snapped her fingers. “He’s referring to the suits. Not hearts; spades; or clubs, but diamonds.”

“So, the answer to the first riddle is the suit of diamonds, rather than the whole deck of playing cards,” Chief O’Hara said.

“Right, Chief,” Batgirl said. “Now, we’ll consider the second riddle.”

Lieutenant Mooney repeated, “When I am filled I can point the way. When I am empty, nothing moves me. I have two skins - One without and one within. What am I?”

“It’s a signal of some kind,” the Commissioner said. “Pointing the way suggests a directional signal.”

“When this thing is empty, it remains motionless,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “It can be filled and emptied.”

“I’m not sure about something with two skins, one without and one within,” Chief O’Hara said. “What could it be?”

“If the inner skin belonged to a person,” Batgirl reasoned, “the item might be a garment of some kind.”

“One could wave a hat to signal,” the Commissioner said.

“You don’t wear a hat against your skin unless you’re bald,” Lieutenant Mooney objected.

“Good point,” the Commissioner said. “Wait! We point with our fingers and if we put on gloves, we wear them against our skin.”

“You’ve done it again, Commissioner!” Batgirl said. “Riddler has told us he is matching a name and he is going somewhere associated with diamonds and gloves, probably sometime today.”

“Is the person Tim Tyler, Junior, or someone associated with him?” Lieutenant Mooney asked.

“I don't know, Diana,” Batgirl said. “There is only one event at which we’ll find out.”

“The ball game!” the men said simultaneously.

Batgirl frowned as if deep in thought. ‘Bruce Wayne is taking Barbara Gordon to the Eagles’ game this afternoon,’ she thought. ‘There’s no plausible excuse for canceling this close to game time.’ Aloud she said, “I think my overt presence at the game would be disruptive and it would let the Riddler know I survived his trap. I’ll be there, but remain out of sight until and unless Riddler makes his presence known. In view of the circumstances, an increased police presence might be a good idea. Meanwhile, I should be going.”

“Good thinking Batgirl,” the Commissioner complimented, nodding to convey his understanding and assent to his daughter’s plan.

The three members of the police force watched as the Caped Crimefightress departed. “I’d love to be there when we nab Riddler, but I’ll need my sleep for tonight’s shift,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “Batgirl really is an invaluable resource, sir.”

“She’s a Godsend. Begorra!” Chief O’Hara emphatically said.

“Amen!” the Commissioner assented.

Meanwhile, Zoe waited in the living room of Tim Tyler, Junior’s, mansion, glancing every few minutes at an enormous, ornate clock.

“Are you ready?” Tyler asked.

“Oh, yes,” the girl said, standing. “I can’t remember the last time I went to a ball game of any kind. It’s very exciting!”

“I hope you have a good time. If you’d rather wear some Eagles gear–”

“Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?” Zoe worriedly asked, glancing at the clock once again and displaying her profile. The glittering catsuit showcased her shapely figure magnificently.

“Nothing I can see,” the baseball team owner said. “Your adventures will be the talk of the town, anyway. I’ve been looking forward to showing you off since I met you this morning. Do you like the clock?”

“It’s very accurate. Is it an antique?”

“It certainly is,” Tim Tyler, Junior, answered, smiling. “It’s Swiss and was built in the 19th century. Dad bought it several years ago and I haven’t needed to do any kind of maintenance on it at all. I suspect the clock’s smooth operation is due to the skill of its builder, a clockmaker named Benjamin Tickermann. He has become known as ‘the Clock King’ in antiquing circles.”

“The Clock King,” Zoe repeated, smiling as her eyes narrowed. “That fact is very interesting. Shall we be going? I’d hate to miss the first pitch.”

Later, at Tyler Stadium, Paul Diamante hurled the baseball across the plate for strike one in response to the cry, “Play ball!” Barbara Gordon; Bruce Wayne; Dick Grayson; and his girlfriend, Susie, looked on from Bruce Wayne’s private box directly behind home plate.

“Thank you very much for inviting me to the game, Bruce.”

“It’s my pleasure, Barbara. I think the Eagles have a good chance of winning today.”

“We sure do!” Dick agreed. “Diamante is as good as he ever was. Look at how fast he’s throwing.” Dick pointed out the reading from the radar gun. “He only gets stronger as the game goes on.”

“Do you think he’ll have a complete game?” Susie asked.

“That could depend on the pitch count in the sixth or seventh inning. Our bull pen is pretty strong, even if he doesn’t.”

To any observer, Barbara Gordon seemed to follow the game, converse with her friends, and smile. In reality, however, these activities were merely Batgirl’s façade. They were real, but masked her more concentrated efforts at vigilance.

Barbara focused on scanning the crowd, watching for signs of the Riddler. ‘What is he planning?’ she wondered as she stood, applauding a strikeout. ‘When will he strike?’

Katherine Kane, the multibillionaire head of Networld, was in a better position to learn of the Riddler’s plans while she entertained a client in her company’s luxury suite, on the stadium’s loge level. She secretly fought crime in the guise of the superheroic Batwoman, and a commotion outside the closed door to her suite triggered her instinct to investigate. Nevertheless, circumstances required her to go on entertaining. She tried to listen, however, despite her obligations.

A muffled smack cut short a startled cry before a vaguely familiar female voice angrily began, ”You idiots! I told you I’d distract them while you slipped past unnoticed and attended to the scoreboard. Give me the data and join the boss. He’ll need you to help him get the stuff. I’ll be with you soon.” After a moment, the unseen woman’s voice could be heard again. “Boys, let’s try to follow the plan this time!”

Katherine Kane managed to steal a glance through her door as more food was delivered, but didn’t see anyone. ‘I wish I could get away and investigate,’ she silently fumed. ‘I know I’ve heard that girl’s voice before . . . .’

One inning later, the public address announcer intoned, “Now batting for the Eagles, number 77, Eddie Alan.”

Bruce Wayne and his companions were munching peanuts and hot dogs when Dick Grayson suddenly pointed at the scoreboard. “Look, Bruce.” The multibillionaire and the others followed his extended arm to where, instead of Eddie Alan’s statistics, a message scrolled repeatedly across the scoreboard:

“They’re riddles,” Susie observed.

“I read the Riddler escaped custody at his sentencing hearing,” Dick Grayson said. “You don’t suppose--”

“That vile fiend may very well be behind those riddles,” Bruce said. “I’m sure many people in the crowd are already reporting them to the authorities.”

“I’m sure you’re right, Bruce,” Barbara said. “Would you excuse me? If you’re right, we probably won’t be able to gracefully avoid being interviewed, and I want to look my best.”

“Of course,” Bruce said, watching his companion take her leave. It had been nearly five years since he and Barbara had walked to the altar together in a ruse to capture Calamity Jan, Frontier Fanny, and their henchmen, who had been preying on newlyweds. Bruce had gracefully explained he and Barbara had realized their courtship had been too brief to take the final step. Since then, the media had closely followed both of their social lives, particularly when their paths crossed. Bruce understood every scrap of gossip the public readily gobbled up about the couple made their hunger for information more insatiable, as well as Barbara’s belief that the details of their relationship were strictly their business. Both agreed, whenever the subject of their relationship came up, any time the two of them spent together was worthwhile.

As Barbara vanished into the crowd, Bruce stood and looked back, noticing a pretty young woman wearing a sparkling catsuit regarding the riddles still scrolling across the scoreboard from her place among the mystified throng. His eyes narrowed. ‘I’ve seen her somewhere before,’ he thought. ‘No! It’s Batman who has seen her!’

Barbara Gordon hurried to the ladies room and waited until she occupied a stall beside a window. She slid from the loosely fitting clothes she wore over her Batgirl costume and exchanged them with some items she had carried in her voluminous purse. Once her cape was in place around her shoulders and her wig and cowl were situated on her head, she climbed through the window and Batclimbed the side of the stadium.

Meanwhile, in the owner’s luxurious loge, Tim Tyler, Junior, and his guests began to drowse as the host reviewed the last few innings’ action for Amber Forever. She, unlike Zoe, who had been closely following the game before she stepped out, was paying more attention to the baseball team owner’s other guests.

When Tim Tyler, Junior, finished speaking, he realized his audience was fast asleep. ‘Either it’s me or she really isn’t a sports fan,’ the sports owner thought, stifling a yawn.

He yawned again and stood, moving toward the door. Opening it, he found the Riddler, Herbert, George and Wells standing with wet cloths drawn over their noses and mouths.

‘I was wrong. It wasn’t me,’ the baseball team owner surmised. ‘It must have been gas that made my guests so tired!’

Riddler giggled and his men stepped forward to seize Tim Tyler, Junior, and draw him deeper into the gas-filled room. As their victim struggled, the gas did its wicked work. “Riddle me this, my knowing knaves. What do dogs, diamonds, and double plays have in common?”

“I don’t know, boss,” Wells admitted. “They all begin with the letter ‘D?’”

“Not even close,” Riddler replied.

“All of them can be sparkling and bright,” George ventured.

“Wrong!” Riddler bellowed.

“Does it have to do with all of them being seen favorably?” Herbert asked.

“No, men. The answer is–”

“They are all best friends,” Zoe said, entering, opening a window, and turning to regard Amber Forever. “Dogs are man’s best friend; diamonds are a girl’s best friend; and double plays are a pitcher’s best friend.”

“Correct!” Riddler announced happily.

“Shall we get on with it?” the girl asked.

“Indeed. I only paused for that little riddle to spice things up. Now, fill the loot sacks. Leave Ms. Forever’s glittering goodies to me.”

The crooks quickly gathered the loot and Zoe had just handed her share to Wells when the door opened, admitting Batgirl, who closed and locked it behind her. “I’ve caught you red-handed Riddler,” she sternly said. “Surrender!”

“Batgirl!” the startled super villain said. “How did you survive our last encounter?”

Batgirl looked around the room in horror. “Riddler, you didn’t use your riddle-N gas on these people, did you?”

“No. There was no point. It was just knockout gas. They’ll fully recover shortly.”

“Oh, well, good . . . Now, as to how I survived your trap, that’s my secret!”

“I suppose congratulations are in order. I can’t imagine how you survived and would still say you’ve done the impossible . . . if you . . . weren’t standing . . . there . . . in front of me.”

“You know what I want to hear from you,” Batgirl declared.

“Surrender?” Riddler asked, giggling. “Never!” He stepped behind Zoe and produced a tiny bottle he tipped into the cloth he tore from his face. Clasping the liquid-soaked cloth to the girl’s nose and mouth, he grinned. “I think you’ll agree Zoe is about to become my ticket to freedom once again.”

“Unhand her at once, Riddler! You know I’ll reveal you escaped justice by hiding behind a woman.”

Riddler believed her.

Batgirl’s mean streak was legendary in Gotham City’s super criminal circles and her threat on this occasion was relatively mild. Unlike Batman, who was renowned for conducting himself as a gentleman at all times, Batgirl would occasionally exact her own unique brand of vengeance on her enemies. She had left various criminals in all manner of embarrassing and physically uncomfortable situations before summoning the police to arrest them with a mischievous light glinting in her eyes. On other occasions, her smile had contrasted completely with her natural beauty and was totally devoid of emotion. At such times, she was known to ruthlessly deliver devastating, physical punishment. The victims of this dark, avenging Angel of Doom always knew no imaginable preparation could be made to prevent her inexorable, inescapable wrath.

The Riddler had no doubt whatsoever that if he escaped using Zoe as a hostage, Batgirl would tell the press exactly how he managed to get away. Such a tale would do incalculable damage to his supercriminal cred.

He released Zoe, who fell to the floor like a rag doll. “You’re right, Batgirl. I’d much rather deal with you–once and for all!”

“You tried that last night, Riddler!” Batgirl said. “Your trap failed. Remember?”

“I think you’ll find my next move more effective. Get her, boys!”

Riddler’s trio of goons bull rushed Batgirl, who sidestepped and shoved Wells into Herbert. George, who was slightly behind his companions, slammed her into a wall of the luxury suite and felt her begin to collapse, sliding slowly toward the floor. He grinned at her until a blow impacted his groin with the force of a pounding piston. George lowered his hands and sagged, making a perfect target of his chin. Batgirl thoughtfully let her toe hit it and turned to the others as George hit the floor.

As his men attacked, Riddler dragged Zoe’s unconscious body from the battle zone.

Herbert and Wells reached their feet and lunged at Batgirl, seizing her arms. They pulled her back and held her against the wall of the private box, battering her abdomen and feeling her weaken. She sagged and their grip on her relaxed.

Batgirl grinned and suddenly brought her arms downward, breaking the thugs’ hold. She drew her elbows back and her fists to her sides. The men did not fully realize what had happened until she hit each of them in the stomach.

Wells had the wind knocked out of him and Batgirl slid toward Herbert. She unleashed a combination of body blows that shredded his defenses and left him moaning at her feet. When she turned to Herbert, she saw the chair he swung at her and could not get out of the way fast enough.

“Yes!” Riddler triumphantly enthused as Batgirl went down. Herbert pressed his advantage and was surprised when a purple arm encircled his knees and took him to the ground hard. “No!” the green-clad supervillain cried as Herbert saw a purple hand fill his vision and blackness drape it when his head hit the floor with an audible crack. Wells was dispatched with a similar blow. Riddler reached for the loot bag containing Amber Forever’s jewels.

“Now, Riddler,” Batgirl sternly said as she slowly stood, her chest heaving. “It’s your turn.”

“Not just yet, Batgirl,” the Prince of Puzzlers proclaimed as he produced a black sphere he held up with one hand. “Take one more step and I’ll throw this out into the crowd!”

The object appeared to be an IED!

“You win, Riddler,” Batgirl said, raising her hands and stepping back, “this time!”

“Riddle me this: I soar without wings, I see without eyes. I've traveled the universe to and fro. I've conquered the world, yet I've never been anywhere but home. Who am I?” The punctuated villain giggled and drew the door closed, tossing his black sphere a second before the lock clicked.

Batgirl dove toward the sphere and caught it. “I soar without wings, I see without eyes. I've traveled the universe to and fro. I've conquered the world, yet I've never been anywhere but home,” she repeated. “Only the mind can stay in one physical place and travel anywhere in the universe. This black sphere is a baseball painted to look like a bomb!” She let go of the ball and slammed her fist into her gloved palm. “He tipped me off with that riddle. The answer is your imagination.” Disgustedly, Batgirl reached for her Batcuffs and secured Herbert, George, and Wells, before turning her attention to the lock.

Behind Batgirl, Zoe’s eyes opened. They grew quite wide when she saw Batgirl. ‘She survived,’ the double-dealing henchgirl thought. ‘Impossible! I though I was imagining things when she burst in on us. It seems she’s dealt with the men, but she doesn’t suspect me. Well, my dear, soon the little deception Riddler and I have played will become your undoing—as well as his. That sod chloroformed me and I’ve found other business to which Clock King would better be attending!’ Batgirl slipped from the luxury suite and left the door open, to further ventilate the room. ‘I think the time to draw our little charade to an end is fast approaching and its end cannot possibly come soon enough, given what Riddler just did - to me!’

Zoe stood and made sure the victims of Riddler’s gas had not yet recovered. She produced a cell phone and stepped out onto the concourse.

“Your Majesty,” she said, once Clock King had answered. “How did the exchange go?”

“Splendidly, my dear,” Clock King mischievously enthused. “You’ve done exceptionally well this time. Riddler was running down a concrete ramp when Jamie jostled him. Our target fell the rest of the way down and has no idea I exchanged his loot bag with the one we prepared. He only took Ms. Forever’s jewels, I trust?”

“That’s right. I have some bad news, though. Batgirl is alive and well. She’s taken care of Riddler’s men. I don’t think I can keep them from being arrested.”

“I wouldn’t bother,” Clock King said. “They didn’t strike me as being worth the trouble. In fact, we should probably conclude our business with Riddler soon.”

A wide smile spread over Zoe’s face. “I agree. Riddler hid behind me to escape Batgirl and I will not tolerate being chloroformed! Now, I’ve had some ideas about Riddler’s ultimate fate and I found a lovely clock you’ll probably want to add to your collection.”

“I’m looking forward to hearing all about both subjects later. You’ll need to be returning to Mr. Tyler and contacting the authorities. First, however, what is Riddler planning next?”

Zoe spoke for a few more minutes in businesslike tones before letting her employer go and returning to the luxury suite to pretend to discover Riddler’s crime.

Early that evening, the Riddler tipped his black, question mark-adorned hat to a tall, African-American girl wearing polished jackboots and black short shorts that showed off her long legs magnificently. Whenever she inhaled, her breasts strained against the leather halter-top visible beneath her sheer, silk blouse. She had augmented her outfit with a scarlet belt; a matching bow tie; and a black, velvet jacket. “Good evening, Mr. Riddler. How may I help you?”

“You’re Puffy, aren’t you,” Riddler asked.

The girl nodded. “How did you know?”

“Catwoman speaks highly of you.” The hench-kitten had been on the Feline Felon’s payroll since the time the Princess of Plunder had stolen every priceless Siberian kitten from Percival Penache's Pet Shop. That crime had led to Batgirl’s capture and attempted murder, which had virtually concluded the kittenish crime wave.

“Thank you,” Puffy said. “Now, how may I help you?”

Riddler glanced around the Chessman Hotel casino in the Chessmen Building and smiled. “I have an appointment with Ms. Thelms.”

“I’ll just inquire if she’s available to see you now.” Riddler watched appreciatively as Puffy walked off. After a moment, the girl reappeared, motioning for him to join her at a door in the back of the room. “Ms. Thelms is expecting you.”

“Toddi Thelms,” Riddler said. “You’re as pretty as a picture.”

The British blonde regarded him with a smile and tossed her head to shift her curly blonde hair without damaging her appearance at all. “Thank you, Riddler,” she said. “You don’t look so bad yourself. Do come in and sit down.”

Toddi Thelms had come to the United States in the employ of the strange, Albanian genius, Eivol Ekdal, just before he had tried to raise a zombie army he could command. During her incarceration, she had been recruited into Max Chessman’s organization.

Riddler nodded and glanced at his reflection, reaching a green-gloved hand to his question mark-adorned tie so he could straighten it. He sat down and stretched out his legs as he unbuttoned the green, question mark-festooned coat he wore over his vest and black shirt. “Thank you.”

“Right,” the girl said. “What can I do for you?”

“I understand you have extensive, international connections and might be willing to help a local ‘entrepreneur’ dispose of certain merchandise.”

“Possibly. I’d have to see the merchandise.”

Riddler lifted a briefcase to the desk and opened it, letting the girl examine the jewels that glittered within. “Here you are,” the Riddler said. “Take your time.”

Toddi smiled and pulled a jeweler’s glass from a desk drawer. She picked up a ring and examined it. She set the ring down and let her hand stray to a concealed button that would summon Security Pawns. “May I ask from whom you acquired this collection?” she asked.

“The Forever Jewel Company,” Riddler dreamily responded.

The woman behind the desk set down the gem she was examining and her tool when a pair of Security Pawns quietly entered the office and stationed themselves behind the Riddler.

“I can’t help you, Riddler. These jewels are paste imitations. I can’t believe you were fooled. That means you’re trying to fool me, and I’m sure you understand my organization frowns on that sort of thing.” As the girl spoke, an edge crept into her voice.

Riddler stared at Toddi, who smiled at him without humor.

“Well?” the girl expectantly said.

“It must have been Batgirl!” Riddler incredulously said. “She solved my riddles and anticipated my crime. Unbelievable.” He looked at Toddi Thelms with an uneasy smile. “It was foolish of me not to have checked them, wasn’t it?”

Toddi walked around the desk and rested one hip on it as she addressed Riddler. “I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt, because of your reputation. If you were not the Riddler, I would feel obliged to see my displeasure at having my time wasted with fake jewelry expressed. Make no mistake. The result for you would have been exquisitely painful. This is your first and only pass. We don’t accept excuses for idiocy - ever!”

“I–”

“Shut up! In the future, I strongly suggest you examine the spoils of your ‘entrepreneurial’ activities before trying to profit from them. I also suggest you deal with someone else. French Freddy the Fence is supposed to be good, when he isn’t busy chasing women or in jail. Now, boys, show the Riddler out.”

Security Pawns took the Riddler by the shoulders and lifted him from his chair. “What about the jewels?” Riddler asked.

“They’re worthless. I’ll dispose of them.”

“But–” Riddler began to protest as he was literally carried from the room.

Toddi Thelms walked back to her desk chair and picked up the phone. “I want details of the Forever Jewel Company’s insurance policies as soon as possible and an appointment with Alfred Slye tomorrow. He’s a lawyer.”

Following dinner with Bruce Wayne; Dick Grayson; and Susie at the romantic Riverside Lounge – a club wrongly believed to have been a haven for gangsters during Prohibition – Barbara Gordon returned to her apartment. Once there, she underwent her tantalizing transformation and soon met with her father and her friend Lieutenant Mooney in the Commissioner’s office.

“Riddler is on his own now,” Lieutenant Mooney said.

“Maybe,” the Commissioner cautioned. “We’ve suspected he was working with someone since before he escaped.”

“That suspicion was a theory,” Batgirl said. “Our mystery man might always have been one of the henchmen.”

“You nabbed all of them earlier today,” the Lieutenant enthused. “One really can’t complain about this afternoon’s good work.”

“Thanks, Diana, but henchmen are practically a dime a dozen.” Batgirl slammed her fist into her glove. “I let Riddler trick me and he got away with Amber Forever’s jewels,” Batgirl fumed. “He should not have gotten away!”

“Have those thugs told us anything, Lieutenant?” the Commissioner asked.

“They’re still being interrogated, sir.”

“Then, we’ll have to concentrate on the riddles that wicked wordsmith gave us. We copied them down when we arrested the thugs.”

“Good. Let’s start with the first one,” Batgirl suggested. She read aloud, “While walking down the street, I met a man. He tipped his hat and drew his cane and in this riddle I told his name. What is the man’s name?”

“The name must appear before the part of the riddle that tells us the man’s name is contained within the riddle, right?” Lieutenant Mooney asked.

“Probably,” the Commissioner agreed. “It looks like the riddle has three parts. The last one addresses the audience and we can ignore it as you suggest. The first discusses the speaker and the second discusses the man.”

“The man wears a hat and carries a cane,” the Lieutenant said. “Could it be Charlie Chaplin?”

“Maybe,” Batgirl said, “but I would expect the riddle to be less specific. The man whose name we need to guess tipped his hat and drew his cane. Those are normal gestures of greeting.”

“These days, few people carry canes or wear hats,” the Commissioner observed.

“The man draws a cane and tips his hat,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “Wasn’t ‘Tip’ someone’s nickname?”

“Not recently,” Batgirl said. “Riddler uses specific words in a specific order.”

“So, we need to keep our mystery man’s actions in order and in the past where Riddler put them,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “He tipped his hat and drew his cane.”

“In this riddle I told his name,” Commissioner Gordon said. “Somewhere.”

“Wait a minute!” Lieutenant Mooney cried. “Drew is a name. It’s ‘Drew.’”

“I think you’re on to something, Diana,” Batgirl said. “He tipped his hat and drew his cane!”

Commissioner Gordon stared. “That’s got to be it, Batgirl! ‘And drew his cane,’” the public official quoted. “The words ‘and drew’ sound like the name ‘Andrew’ and Andrews is the name of an art collector. His collection contains a pair of golden cat statues Mr. Andrews separates for security reasons. Riddler may be after the Mark Andrews Collection. Catwoman went after the cat statues over a decade ago and she teamed up with Riddler for a clothing-related caper three years ago.”

”I’ll get extra security to cover the Mark Andrews Collection,” Lieutenant Mooney said.

“Good thinking. Let’s have a look at the second riddle,” Batgirl encouraged. Aloud, she read, “If you were running a race and you passed the person in 2nd place, what place would you be in now?”

“First, of course,” the Commissioner said.

“It can’t be that easy,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “You begin in third place, at best, and pass the runner in second place. The runner who was in second, would then be in third because you just passed him.”

“Right,” Batgirl said.

“So,” Commissioner Gordon proposed, “passing the runner in second place would put you in second place yourself?”

“Correct. The answers to our riddles so far are Andrew and second place,” Batgirl said.

“Doesn’t Mark Andrews have a son?” Commissioner Gordon asked.

“Mark Andrews, Junior, or Mark Andrews, the second!” the women said as one.

“Excellent.” Commissioner Gordon enthused. “Now, what is it about him with which we need to be concerned?”

“The third riddle may tell us,” Lieutenant Mooney said.

Aloud Batgirl once again read, “Poke your fingers in my eyes and I will open wide my jaws. Linen cloth, quills, or paper, my greedy lust devours them all.”

“A face with lust for cloth, quills, and paper?” Commissioner Gordon said.

“The Riddler must be speaking figuratively,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “This thing has eyes and jaws or parts like eyes and jaws and is used to damage cloth, quills, and paper.”

Commissioner Gordon leaned over and touched his intercom. “Bonnie, would you clip any articles regarding Mark Andrews, Junior, from today’s paper?”

“That’s it, Commissioner!” Batgirl exclaimed. “You’ve done it again.”

“I did? I thought I’d have Bonnie take a separate approach to this problem while we puzzled over this last riddle.”

“Bonnie will use scissors to clip those articles for you. The jaws of scissors cut paper when you slip your fingers into the eyes,” Batgirl explained.

“Great Scott, Batgirl!” the Commissioner said. “You’re right.”

Bonnie came bursting into the room. “I found one article already, sir,” she said, waving a section of the Gotham City Times in her right hand. “I thought you’d want to know right away.”

“Yes, Bonnie, you’re right. What did you find?”

“On the front of the society page it says, ‘Mark Andrews, Junior, will be presiding at a ribbon cutting tomorrow morning as the Gotham City Historical Society unveils an exhibit on local maritime history. Historical rogues like Captain Manx and Garsone Maltese will be prominently featured.”

“Thank you, Bonnie,” the Commissioner said. “See if you can find anything else.” His secretary returned to her duties.

“It fits,“ Lieutenant Mooney said. “Riddler has found historical treasures twice in the past. I can have our people waiting in the audience to arrest Riddler when he strikes.”

“That’s a good idea, Diana,” Batgirl said. “Now that he’ll probably be working alone, Riddler may strike before the event. I’ll head over there and wait, just in case.”

“Thank you, Batgirl,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “Would you like some company?”

“No, thank you. Your force would be better employed on their standard duties. I could be wrong.”

“We’ll play it your way, Batgirl,” the Commissioner said.

“Thank you for your trust.”

“You know, Lieutenant . . .” Commissioner Gordon thoughtfully began, once Batgirl had gone.

“Certainly, sir,” his subordinate agreed, turning to him with a knowing smile. “I’m very proud of her.”

“I am, too.”

Evening had become night before Batgirl slipped through an ornate, metal door to the Gotham City Historical Society’s exhibit hall. A quick search with the aid of her tiny Bat-light was all she needed to find a handy closet in which to await the Riddler.

It was, however, not the Punctuated Prince of Puzzlers who penetrated the historical society’s defenses against intruders shortly after dawn, but Zoe.

Batgirl’s eyes widened in surprise as the girl, whom she believed to have been Riddler’s captive two nights ago, crept through the door, and bypassed the alarms as the heroine herself had done hours earlier. The girl in the glittering catsuit crossed the room and turned up the lights, which resembled lanterns mounted to the walls, before bending over a display case.

“Well, the truth about you is an unpleasant surprise,” Batgirl, said, emerging from her hiding place and letting her hands settle on her shapely hips. “Where is the Riddler?”

“I expect him shortly, but you’re something of a disappointment, considering your miraculous survival the other night.”

“I’m not sure why that would be,” the Curved Crusader said. “I’ve caught you red-handed, haven’t I?”

“I believe you deserve some credit,” Zoe conceded, laughing. “I can’t give you points for solving the riddles. I’m afraid your ingenuity there was anticipated and part of the overall plan. You didn’t, however, perish after Riddler rendered you utterly helpless and left you to die. Other than that, you’ve been tragically slow on the uptake, a real disappointment. Considering what I’ve been told about you, I’d have thought you’d decipher our entire plot--”

“It’s not that hard to figure out,” Batgirl said, interrupting. “Riddler stole the genealogical data to convince Tim Tyler, Junior, you were his half-sister, so you could move in his social circles and feed your boss intelligence for planning his crimes. I’ll give Riddler his due. The plan was diabolically clever.”

“It’s good to see your mind has finally started to work.”

“I’m a little surprised you’re throwing away the deception by participating in this robbery personally.”

“Well, Riddler needed the help, thanks to you, and Tim will be sleeping in this morning, along with the rest of his family and household staff, thanks to the nightcaps I provided for them,” Zoe said, smirking. “At least one of the servants will probably be fired this afternoon, but that isn’t really my problem. I suppose I’ll have to make that important staffing decision for my dear ‘brother’ eventually.”

“I have a different problem for you. You’re about to go to jail . . . for a long time—right now!”

Zoe grinned and produced a pocket watch, at which she glanced. “I suppose I have just enough time to point out you have no idea for whom I really work.”

“I know you aren’t freelancing. Everything about you screams henchwoman. So, tell me where is Riddler.”

“Oh, answering that question would be telling, and please don’t be so stupid as to think I’m trapped simply because you’re standing between the door and me.” The girl’s voice dripped with mock sweetness.

“There is nowhere to run, Zoe,” Batgirl said ominously.

“I have no intention of running. There is simply no need. You already know I’m not working alone.”

“We’ve come back to my question,” Batgirl declared. Where is the Riddler, Zoe, assuming that is your real name?”

“Closer than you imagine, Batgirl!” the Prince of Puzzlers proclaimed, giggling. Batgirl could not help whirling toward where her enemy crouched behind a ventilation grille wearing his more casual, punctuated ensemble. “You didn’t expect me to just march in through the door, knowing I’d tipped you and the police off about my plans?”

“I’ve often wondered why you go to the trouble of leaving your infamous, riddling clues.”

Riddler could not help smiling. “It’s because–”

“Wait!” Batgirl said. “Don’t tell me. Without Batman, or his allies, crime has no punch line.”

“Wrong! Crime is no fun without riddles.” Riddler pushed on the grille covering his means of ingress and stepped into the room. “I’m sure you could use some time to ponder my modus operandi. Fortunately, I brought plenty of Doctor Riddler’s Instant Forever Stick Invisible Wax Emulsion.” The villain’s hands appeared with an aerosol can in each. He tossed one can over Batgirl’s head to Zoe and bent to apply the contents of the other to the floor around Batgirl’s boots.

Batgirl jumped for the overhead can, but could not reach it. She landed in the center of the stain Riddler had made, finding she could not move her feet. Zoe caught the airborne can and sprayed Batgirl’s boots until it was apparent the heroine was trapped. “It seems you’ll be sticking around for some time after we’ve gone with the treasures for which we came,” Zoe said, grinning wickedly.

“That vile sticky spray won’t hold me for long, Riddler,” Batgirl warned. “I know you’ve been told in the past how your avariciously employed aerosol cans harm the environment.” As the Voluptuous Vigilante spoke, her hand was reaching for compartment containing her electronic Batgirl compact on her utility belt.

“Hold it right there, Batgirl!” Zoe ordered, holding her spay can in front of Batgirl’s face. The heroine stopped reaching for the belt. “Riddler, do we have enough spray to cover Batgirl’s entire body?” Zoe asked. “Properly employed, it could be permanently damaging to her environment--quite asphyxiating, in fact.”

“I think your idea would require several gallons of spray and more privacy than we’ll be afforded here. Besides, we came for these historical treasures, which the society has decided so foolishly to show off.” Riddler replied, gesturing at the display cases and giggling maniacally.

“True,” Zoe agreed. “Then, I will be taking another souvenir from this encounter.” As she spoke, she leaned forward and unbuckled Batgirl’s utility belt, which slipped from the heroine’s waist before she retrieved the tool that would have released her from Riddler’s sinister spray.

“Is the first case open?” Ridder asked, as the henchwoman straightened, triumphantly winding Batgirl’s gadget-laden girdle around her own narrow hips, buckling it in place, and strutting confidently to the villain’s side.

“She distracted me,” Zoe admitted. “I’m sorry. This job won’t take long if I get to work right now.” She handed Riddler her pocket watch and turned to her nefarious chores, saying, “Time me.”

“Of course, Zoe,” Riddler replied. “Now, Batgirl, before Zoe and I leave you to admire these display cases after she empties them, I’ll just leave you with another little riddle–”

Riddler opened Zoe’s watch as he spoke and was surprised when a plume of colored smoke he could not help inhaling burst toward him. “What the–”

“Time to end my little charade, I’d say,” Zoe said, grinning with satisfaction as the villain slumped to the floor, unconscious.

“You planned to double cross him in the end all along?” Batgirl said. “Aren’t you the little, criminal mastermind?”

“Oh no, Batgirl,” the hourglass-figured, younger woman disagreed. “I am, however, extremely upset at how Riddler handed my lawbreaking liege over to the authorities in Time, Illinois, some nine years ago.”

“So, you work for Clock King. I suppose I should have realized your true allegiance from that pocket watch.”

Zoe smiled. “I told you I worked for someone and that you were slow on the uptake.”

“I’ve always been suspicious of your story about being Tim Tyler, Junior’s, half sister,” Batgirl replied. “You’ve been playing your role well enough to keep me in doubt, though. There were never grounds to make accusations.”

“Thank you,” Zoe said, inclining her head.

“Aren’t you being needlessly vengeful?" Batgirl asked. "I stopped Clock King from nearly beating Riddler to death two years ago, before he led King Tut back to a life a crime and after he made off with the horde of Viking treasure Riddler discovered.”

“I have no idea about what you’re talking!”

“It’s curious, Zoe,” a short, shabbily-dressed man – with his hair combed the way the Beatles all wore theirs at the height of their popularity – thoughtfully said, entering the room through the door Zoe and Batgirl had used. “It seems Batgirl has met me before.”

“If you were the Clock King,” Batgirl said, “but I’ve never laid eyes on you in my life.”

“Oh, I’ve had the pleasure on two previous occasions, Batgirl.” Clock King said “It seems you’ve met me more often, though.”

“I don’t understand,” Zoe protested.

“It’s quite simple. Batgirl has never met me, but she has met me and me on two separate occasions I remember, and apparently me on occasions I don’t yet recall.”

“Oh,” Zoe said, as though the man’s words explained everything.

“How is it possible I’ve met you on two, three, or four occasions without having met you ever before?” Batgirl asked, clearly confused.

“Well, Batgirl,” Clock King gently said, “time is relative. Now, you were saying I’ve already had my revenge against the Riddler?”

“I was under that impression.”

“Splendid!” the little man said, pressing his hands together happily. “You see, Zoe, I’ve been right all along, haven’t I?”

“Apparently, Your Majesty,” the girl replied. “Still, if you hadn’t decided to address the problem I pointed out, we would never have learned about the clock.”

“Oh, yes! I quite agree. We’ll need to finish up here and take care of these two before we attend to that pleasant chore.”

“Why include me in your superfluous revenge, Clock King?” Batgirl asked. “I thought you hated wasting time.”

Zoe favored Batgirl with a smile. “Unfortunately, for Riddler, I reset the clock on his Majesty’s revenge against him. Since you’ve interfered with those plans, I think His Majesty has decided you’ll share Riddler’s fate. I hope he has, because of something else I’ve heard about paybacks since I arrived in Gotham City. It seems they are a—”

“If you’re right, Zoe, I hope you don’t misunderstand," Batgirl said. "You know I escaped a deathtrap two nights ago, and you don’t seriously think I’ve never done that before!”

“Stop scaring me,” Zoe said. “I’m not the one helplessly stuck to the floor and when we’ve finished with you, you’ll be in no position to make good on any threats you make. In any event, you would never be able to find us, unless we choose to be found.” She laughed without humor. “Meanwhile, the countdown to His Majesty’s vengeance has been ticking down for the last few days and everything, especially both of you, is quite nearly finished!”

“Ladies, please!” Clock King sharply said. “Now, we are wasting time! I don’t want to fall any further behind schedule!” The Demented Demarcator of Durations said “schedule” with the British pronunciation. Even though the Time Lord was from another planet, he spoke with a definite English accent.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Zoe said, curtseying as her hand came away from Batgirl’s belt, holding a canister of Bat-Sleep. “Apparently, it’s past time to hoist you on your own petard, Batgirl. Say goodnight.” Batgirl yielded a mere second after the henchwoman sprayed her face.

“You’ve been very thorough,” Clock King remarked.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she responded, curtseying again. “It is my privilege to present to you Batgirl and the Riddler.”

“Splendid. Jamie and the Second Hands should be arriving now to deal with this loot Riddler wanted,” Clock King said. “I need you to release Batgirl from that sticky spray, and time is of the essence, now more than ever.”

Jamie led the Second Hands Clock King had recruited into the room and quickly set about looting the chamber. The villain’s entourage finished their various nefarious chores, including removal of the prisoners in five minutes flat.

Later, Batgirl realized, as Bat-Awake revived her, she had been balanced on her knees with her back leaning against a tall, metal cylinder. Her arms were drawn back and shackled by the wrists around someone’s abdomen. Her legs had also been stretched behind her, and a tentative movement revealed her ankles were shackled around her fellow captive’s thighs.

Glancing through the cleft between her breasts, she saw a pair of wrists held together with Batcuffs around her flat abdomen. A pair of ankles had also been wrapped around her thighs and shackled.

Thinking back, Batgirl recalled Zoe’s attack with the Bat-Sleep and grimly acknowledged it hardly represented the first time her gadgets had been employed against her. She had grown accustomed to being trapped without her utility belt and the numerous, miraculous devices it contained, but criminals perverting the crimefighting tools’ purpose was always unsettling to the Pretty Paragon.

Legs Parker, for a particularly deadly example, had once shackled the Curved Crusader with Batcuffs and lowered her into a subterranean passage on her Batrope before arranging for the Curved Crusader to drown in wine. Now, Zoe, or perhaps her employer, the Clock King, had been considerably less ambitious.

Lavender gloves; green boots; along with the green sleeves and pant legs adorned with black question marks told Batgirl she, the huntress, had joined her prey, as Zoe and Clock King had told her she would. The criminals’ other victim had obviously been restrained in exactly the same way as Batgirl on the opposite side of the metal cylinder. While Batgirl could not see him, she knew the other captive was a man and the clues she had been given told her conclusively who he was.

‘I’m trapped with the Riddler,’ Batgirl thought.

“Where are we?” she softly asked.

“This chamber is a rat cave, the former wallowing place of my River Rat gang,” Riddler explained. “I don’t know exactly how Zoe found it.”

“It was on the map of the sewers you showed me,” she told him. “Didn’t I tell you I have a photographic memory?”

Riddler nodded. “You’ve had this place redecorated!” he accused. “I don’t like it.”

“Not I,” the girl in the glittering catsuit said, delightedly laughing and rolling onto her feet from a hammock where she had been reclining. “It is my profound pleasure, Riddler, to present my real boss, his Royal Majesty, the Clock King.”

She curtseyed and gestured toward a little man dressed as a hobo. As the Royal Rogue took up proverbial center stage, Zoe casually discarded Batgirl’s utility belt and regarded the captives with a wicked, knowing smile.

“Thank you, Zoe,” the Monarch of Moments said. “That really was a splendid introduction.”

“Oh, not again,” Riddler complained. “You don’t look like the Clock King.”

Clock King gently smiled. “You’re very fortunate I never get tired of revealing my identity. The reactions I get are so fascinating and diverse.”

The revelation of Clock King’s identity seemed to have no immediate effect on Riddler, but he did review it as his mind grappled with the unusual concept. “You changed your appearance from when I ambushed you in Time, Illinois. Now you’ve changed your appearance again since you saved Batgirl from the Viking treasure cave. She stopped you from beating me to death with what you called ‘Venusian martial arts.’ Then, I spent all that time in a psyche ward – because you took all the treasure away! Everyone assumed I was delusional.”

“Did they indeed?” Clock King interestedly asked.

“Yes, they did!” Riddler raged. “They kept me at that crummy Mount Ararat Hospital for months!”

Clock King glanced sharply at the bound supervillain. “It’s no use blaming me, Riddler. I don’t know about what you’re talking. Of course, it’s possible these events take place in my future, but I think the fact they seem to have occurred in your past is extremely interesting. Don’t you?” Clock King’s voice brimmed with curiosity.

Riddler ignored him. “I don’t understand why you imagine your revenge was inadequate,” the Punctuated Prince of Puzzlers said.

“I told you you were wasting your time,” Batgirl said, ignoring Riddler.

“Is that any way to speak to a man who has the power to set you free?”

“You’ll let me go?”

“No,” Clock King answered, “but I could. I think Zoe would be terribly disappointed in me if I were to release you, and if you stay, you can witness my ultimate triumph over Riddler. As I recall, you benefited from the original offense. You and Riddler have both told me you kept me from beating this . . . miscreant . . . to death a couple of years ago. I find your presence both ironic and appropriate.” The villain’s voice grew louder as he went on. “Besides, you’ve been a thorn in my side since our very first encounter!” Clock King calmed and continued. “Oh, I could easily spare you, but you’ll just come after me when I refuse to release Riddler. Finally, left here in this predicament, I can make my final acquisition without having to deal with your infernal interference!”

As Clock King and Batgirl glared at one another, Riddler recalled recent events and reexamined them in the light of his capture. “You’ve been playing me ever since my escape!” he said, breaking the silence and turning his head to regard his female captor.

“Like a fiddle,” Zoe confirmed, smirking.

“Interesting analogy,” Riddler muttered sourly.

"It’s appropriate,” Zoe said, unable to keep her mirth in check, “given the mutually satisfying nature of our relationship—so far.”

“The exercise, so far, has been rather profitable, I think,” Clock King happily declared.

Zoe grinned wolfishly and licked her lips. “In many ways,” she agreed, winking.

“I don’t know why you say that,” Riddler replied. “Batgirl delivered counterfeit money as a ransom for Zoe and had Amber Forever wear fake jewelry to the ball game.”

“On the contrary, my dear fellow,” Clock King said. “Ms. Forever’s jewels are quite genuine and they have enriched Zoe tremendously. As for the money, five million dollars more than adequately covered my expenses on this little venture and raised my bank balance rather magnificently.”

“No!” Riddler cried dejectedly. He calmed visibly and his voice became low and menacing. “You, of course, realize this means war. I’ll have my revenge against you---someday.”

“Perhaps,” Clock King dismissively said. “You may bear a grudge against me and I’d understand, under the circumstances, but the credit for what’s happened to you of late and what is about to happen all belong to Zoe. Don’t you think, my dear?”

Zoe cleared her throat and raised one leg to a crate while leaning forward and grinning. She had added a pair of boots to her glittering attire. “Riddler, I facilitated your escape, hired your thugs, and was the key to your plan.” She paused to laugh. “Of course, garnering all the profit from your scheme wasn’t the best part.”

“What are you talking about?” Riddler asked, returning his attention to the girl in the closely-fitting, glittering garb. “So, my plotting, planning, and scheming amounted to nothing. You took all the spoils!”

Zoe smiled. “Oh, there is more,” she disagreed, smirking. “Riddle me this. I am just two and two. I’m hot, and I’m cold. I’m the parent of numbers that cannot be told. I’m a gift beyond measure, a matter of course. I can be given with pleasure when taken by force. What am I?”

“No!” Riddler said. “You’re right. The wealth I pursued wasn’t enough. You’ve done much more to me. I see it now. The answer to your riddle is a kiss!”

“You’re quite right, lover, and I really enjoyed our close moments,” she continued. “Parting really is sweet sorrow, because you were truly brilliant. Thanks for the memories of everything.”

“I’m glad to see you’ve taken full advantage of the situation you’ve manipulated so beautifully,” Clock King complimented.

“It seems I owe you an apology, Your Majesty,” Zoe said. Riddler could only stare at her as she straightened and turned to him, curtseying. “If you beat Riddler up and arranged for him to undergo superfluous psychiatric treatment . . . .”

“Never mind, Zoe,” Clock King said. “You’ve done very good work and profited handsomely.”

“The jewels are nice and my share of the money will buy me a lot more, but the look on Riddler’s face right now is what I’ll really treasure. Who knew a man could be beaten so thoroughly? The rest of our preparations now seem unnecessary somehow.” Zoe shrugged and grinned, adding, “Almost.”

Clock King interrupted his pretty, young assistant’s laughter. “Yes. Given our level of commitment to this enterprise, I think we should follow through with our plans. It would be a shame not to, don’t you think?”

“Oh, indeed, Your Majesty. The gas will take good care of both Riddler and Batgirl,” Zoe replied, barely suppressing her delight. “Its effects will be quite permanent as well.”

“So,” Batgirl said, understanding her predicament at last, “you’ve shackled us to a tank of gas and we’ll be left here momentarily to die?”

“Oh, the gas is hardly lethal, Batgirl,” Clock King said. “According to my observations, it attacks certain of the neural pathways that bring about the voluntary functions of the nervous system. A mere whiff of the gas causes instant confusion, and more pathways are attacked at an exponential rate with continued exposure.”

“Are you saying . . . the brain, skull, and nerves will remain completely intact, while the mind itself is attacked?” Riddler asked.

“That’s the idea,” Zoe responded, laughing.

“No! It can’t be,” the dismayed Riddler said. “They’re using my riddle-N gas against me . . . and they have a better understanding of how it works than I do!”

“What will happen to us once you’ve turned this room into our private gas chamber?” Batgirl prompted.

“Well,” Clock King said, “first, your short-term memory will utterly vanish. Then, your long-term memory will begin to unravel. Slowly, your lifelong training will disappear and your education will be eradicated. Ultimately, you will lose your identities forever – once the effects of the gas become irreversible. Finally, because the gas cloud will linger in this chamber, rescue will be practically impossible until it is much too late. Even if anyone knew you were here, they would get turned around in these sewers long before they ever found you.”

“Your Majesty,” Zoe said, “I’ve been thinking about what you just said. We may have a problem.”

“Oh?”

“Isn’t there a chance we’ll be exposed to a whiff of the gas as we leave? I know the way out, but I don’t want to forget it and share our victims’ fate.”

“Not to worry, Zoe,” Clock King said, fishing in his voluminous pocket. “I prepared for that contingency.” The villain handed the girl a large, green balloon. “This should solve the problem you’ve found in the plan.”

“I believe you’re right, Your Majesty,” the girl said, smiling. “There is one last thing.”

“What are you waiting for?” Riddler demanded. “You’ve won. Get it over with!”

“Artistry.” Zoe retrieved a Sharpe from Batgirl’s utility belt and drew a black question mark on either side of the balloon before sliding it into place over the tip of the tank’s valve. She hesitated and glanced at Clock King, reaching for the release knob. “Shall I?” she sweetly asked.

“No, Zoe,” Clock King answered. “It’s my revenge and I’ll attend to it personally.”

“Clock King, don’t do this, please!” Riddler begged. “You’ve had your revenge. Let me go. We can still get rid of Batgirl if you want–”

“Too late,” Zoe said. “Begging for your existence is such a waste of time, especially now.” She laughed delightedly. “Your time has practically run out. All that remains is to turn on the gas and leave.”

“Quite right, Zoe,” Clock King agreed. “Oh, please leave Batgirl’s utility belt to tantalize our captives - for as long as they remember what it is.” He laughed. “It offers our prisoners a slim, sporting chance, but I doubt it will help much. Batgirl’s toys really are very primitive.”

The hourglass figured henchwoman smirked as she replaced the Sharpe in Batgirl’s utility belt. “Yes, Your Majesty,” she replied, running the length of the golden girdle lovingly through her hands before playfully tossing it back onto the hammock behind her.

Clock King wrapped an arm around her slim waist and pulled something from another pocket. “Now then,” he said. “Come along.”

“Splendid,” Zoe enthused. “It’s about time you put your scruples aside and unleashed some futuristic technology on your enemies!”

“Well, we’ve already met the challenges these two represent,” Clock King said. “Using this to unleash the gas is more of a safety precaution.” Both Riddler and Batgirl recognized the device on Clock King’s hand. It resembled a screwdriver and briefly emitted a high-pitched whine when he twisted its top. The noise stopped when it became apparent the balloon was inflating.

“Goodbye,” Zoe cheerfully called, waving and blowing kisses, as Clock King guided her toward the chamber door.

Clock King paused, turning to regard his captives. “I’ll always treasure the memory of this moment, even though it will soon be lost to both of you forever. Once the gas has done its work, the world will remember both of you well, while you won’t know each other or even yourselves. The irony is utterly delicious, don’t you think, Zoe?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the girl repeated as the Monarch of Moments guided her from the chamber.

Soon, the echoes of their uproarious laughter died to be replaced by the hiss of the gas as it slowly inflated the balloon and made the black question marks above Batgirl and Riddler’s heads more distinct.

Batgirl took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Have you thought of something?” Riddler asked.

“Nothing helpful,” Batgirl replied, thinking, ‘Recriminations will serve no constructive purpose in our situation.’

“We’ve obviously got to get out of here,” the villain replied.

“I agree,” Batgirl said. “The main things holding us here are my Batcuffs and the tank of gas between us.”

“Again, you’re stating the obvious,” Riddler complained. “Wouldn’t release from the Batcuffs take care of both restraints?”

“You’re right about the Batcuffs,” Batgirl said. "The type of analysis you’ve just given me is one reason to start with the obvious. Look up.”

“I now know you carry knives outside your utility belt to aid in your miraculous escapes,” Riddler said, tilting his head back. “Can you reach anything that will help us?”

“I already did. What do you see?”

“I see the ceiling and the balloon inflating. It’s going to pop soon, you know?”

“I know,” Batgirl said. “What don’t you see?” As Batgirl spoke, the Batcuffs fell away from her ankles.

“I see at what you’re getting!” Riddler said, excitedly. “There is nothing preventing us from turning that valve and shutting off the gas except being shackled here. Would you tell me how you released your legs?”

“Lock pick,” Batgirl said.

“You . . . won’t . . . leave me here once you free your arms, will you?”

“I should, but I won’t. I’ve got other priorities. Now, how fast will that gas kill our minds?”

“Fast,” Riddler said. “The gas is very effective and we’re right next to its source. You were right about this room becoming our gas chamber. Normally, I let it disperse through vents to diminish its potency a little. Clock King didn’t bother to be so careful. So, when that balloon pops . . . .”

Batgirl shifted and got both feet on the floor. Suddenly, she realized she would be lifting Riddler as she straightened. “Can you put your feet flat on the floor?”

“I don’t know.”

“Try!” Batgirl commanded.

“Are we doomed, Batgirl?”

“If you don’t get it in gear, we are!” she fumed. “Can you stand?”

“I . . . I think so.”

“Good. Do it!” Batgirl said.

Riddler shifted and Batgirl straightened at the same time, once he began the maneuver. Once they were standing, Riddler realized he would remain compelled to keep the tank of gas in the uncomfortable reverse hug in which he had been imprisoned. Batgirl, however, was still working at the shackles binding her wrists, despite having turned to regard the slowly inflating, gas-filled balloon.

“The balloon is going to pop any second!” Riddler warned, a combination of hysteria and panic filling his voice.

“Not if I can help it,” Batgirl said, as the Batcuffs fell from her wrists and clattered to the floor. She stepped forward, pivoted, and reached for the valve regulating the release of the gas before turning it off. “There, Riddler. We’re safe!”

The Riddler took a deep breath and slumped back against the tank. “I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but . . . thank you . . . Batgirl.”

“You’re welcome,” Batgirl said. She knelt beside the gas tank and went to work on the villain’s ankle shackles. “You’ll be more comfortable when you can stand on your feet normally.”

Riddler moved his feet to gain his balance. “May I borrow your lock pick while you get your belt?” Riddler asked. “I’m pretty good with locks, too, you know.”

“Sure,” Batgirl said, “but I’ll need that back when you’ve finished.”

Riddler giggled softly. “Of course,” he said, as Batgirl moved to the hammock in which her utility belt lay and buckled it in place around her waist.

“Riddle me twice, Batgirl!” the Count of Conundrums commanded. “The answer I give is yes, but what I mean is no. What was the question? Also, when I point up it's bright, but when I point down it's dark. What am I?”

“This is no time for riddles, Riddler. I have to go after Clock King before he achieves his objectives.”

“I disagree, Batgirl. Any time is the right time for riddles,” Riddler observed, giggling, “Especially when you foolishly let me get the drop on you. Turn around.”

Batgirl turned and saw the villain standing with the balloon pinched between his fingers. “You got out of the Batcuffs faster than I imagined you would,” she said, resting her hands on her shapely hips and spreading her legs to shoulder width.

“As you can see by the deadly weapon I’m holding, you’d be a fool to move, Batgirl.”

“What do you want, Riddler?” Batgirl demanded, remaining motionless.

“I’ve already told you.”

“The riddles,” Batgirl said. “Okay. ‘When I point up it's bright, but when I point down it's dark. What am I?’ The riddle indicates a toggle of some kind and two conditions between which one may change. Light becomes dark and dark becomes light depending upon how the toggle points, and it can be up or down.”

“Correct,” Riddler agreed. The answer is–”

“A light switch,” Batgirl replied. “That was the second riddle. The first went: ‘The answer I give is yes, but what I mean is no. What was the question?’”

“Very good, Batgirl,” Riddler complimented. “You may puzzle out the answer before I leave you puzzling.”

“Do you mind?” Batgirl demanded. “I’m thinking. Wait! I just asked a question to which I want a negative answer.”

“Yes . . .” Riddler prompted.

“That’s it! The answer to the first riddle is ‘Do you mind?’ and when you put it together with the second answer, a switch, you get a question, 'Do you mind if I switch?'"

Batgirl paused as she pondered the meaning of the answers. "Are you asking me if I mind if you switch from prisoner to captor?!" She snorted in derision. "If you imagine I’m about to volunteer to be your prisoner, I’ll tell you I mind very much!”

“That’s too bad, Batgirl,” Riddler said. “I’m not giving you a choice. Goodbye.” He began to giggle as he pointed the pinched end of the balloon at her and let go. Green gas began belching from the balloon.

Batgirl did not hesitate. Her hands came away from her belt holding a Bat-Lung and a Bat-Fan. The fan whirred and blew the gas back toward Riddler as Batgirl placed the Bat-Lung over her nose and mouth.

“No!” Riddler said, retreating. “You can’t turn the tables on me. It’s not fair!”

Batgirl grinned and advanced on him with the inexorability of doom. Soon, he was enveloped in the green cloud and could not help inhaling it. He coughed and continued backing away from Batgirl. She held her ground as the gas dispersed. Then, she put away her fan and breathing mask.

Riddler stopped and shook his head, looking around in bewilderment.

“Riddler, how do you feel?” Batgirl asked.

“Who?” the villain asked. He stared at her. “Why are you wearing that purple outfit, lady?”

Batgirl reached toward him. “Are you okay?”

Riddler took her hand. “I . . . I . . . don’t know. I feel strange.”

“Maybe you should lie down,” Batgirl kindly suggested, indicating the hammocks.

“That’s a good idea,” Riddler decided and stretched out. Batgirl approached and stood beside him.

“I’m going to shackle you so you don’t fall. Close your eyes until you feel like your old self. Someone will be along soon to take care of you.”

“Okay,’ Riddler agreed. Batgirl secured him with Batcuffs and turned away. “Hey! What will you be doing?”

“I’ve got to get up to the streets where I can report to the police and warn them Clock King will steal a clock within the hour.”

“Oh,” Riddler said, befuddled. “Who is Clock King?”

“Don’t worry. Just close your eyes,” Batgirl soothingly said, turning away when he obeyed.

She was smiling as she waited for her call to the police to be answered, thinking, ‘Riddler should be fine in a few minutes. I’ve captured him, but I’ll never reach Clock King in time to stop him and Zoe. I only hope it’s not too late to report the impending robbery. Time is definitely of the essence.’

Meanwhile, Zoe led Clock King, Jamie, and a trio of Second Hands into Tim Tyler, Junior’s, spacious yard. “What’s been happening here?” the Sultan of Seconds inquired.

“Oh, nothing, Your Majesty,” Zoe replied, curtseying. “As I explained to the soon-to-be vegetized Batgirl, I personally mixed all of the nightcaps last night. They were quite potent and the time-released pills I dissolved in them will keep everyone fast asleep until late this afternoon, believe me. We’ll have plenty of time, much more than we should really need.”

“You’re certain our little visit won’t be interrupted?” Clock King asked.

“I’m the only one who left the house today and I disengaged all the alarms before I left.”

“Splendid,” Clock King said, hurrying toward the mansion.

“He’s as excited as a little kid,” Jamie said.

Zoe folded her arms and suppressed a laugh. “Well, he’s after a piece for his personal collection. I don’t really blame him.”

“Aye. You may have a point. Come on.” The younger criminals followed their leader into the living room.

“Zoe, would you look at the size of that thing?” Jamie asked, pointing at the antique clock.

“It’s very impressive, isn’t it?” Clock King asked. “We’ll have to remove the French Windows before moving it outside. Help the Second Hands, Jamie. There’s a good chap.”

“It’s time to change your plans, Clock King!” an authoritative female voice said.

“We have a nice one-way trip in mind for you,” a more youthful, but equally confident, female voice said. “You’re going back to jail!”

“It can’t be Batgirl!” Clock King exclaimed, turning first one way, then the other, looking for the voices.

“It’s Batwoman, your Majesty,” Zoe said sullenly.

“Aye,” Jamie agreed. “Flamebird is with her.”

“I don’t understand,” Clock King protested. “How did you two know I would be here?”

“Your overconfidence betrayed you, Clock King,” Flamebird explained. “It’s the downfall of many arch criminals.”

“I recognized your female assistant’s voice at the ball game yesterday afternoon and Batman recognized her appearance. Once we talked and realized for whom she worked, anticipating your crime was simple.”

“It was decided Batman and Robin would search for Batgirl and the Riddler,” Flamebird triumphantly continued. "We got the easy job - coming after you!"

The Time Lord visibly stiffened.

“The phone call Batgirl made to the police about your plot was superfluous. You may as well give up!” Batwoman concluded.

“Well, ladies,” Clock King began, “I see congratulations are in order for anticipating my plot. Of course, my surrender will be another matter entirely. Jamie and Second Hands, my royal command is – for you to clock them and strike hard--now!”

Clock King silently drew Zoe from the battle zone as the fight was joined. Batwoman and Flamebird moved forward and blocked the men’s opening punches, ramming elbows into their attackers’ abdomens and slamming the backs of their fists into the men’s chests seconds later. Second Hands stepped from behind the stunned, lead attackers and swung at the heroines.

Flamebird ducked and lunged, knocking the first man to the floor with her shoulder and driving both fists into the second man’s groin. Batwoman backed up a step and reached around her second attacker so she could slam his head into Jamie. Each heroine moved in to engage the stronger of her opponents.

“The men are getting their clocks cleaned,” Zoe observed disgustedly.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Clock King agreed. “The Second Hands are not important, but, like you, Jamie is not from this time. So, we’ll have to bring him along.” He motioned for the girl to follow and moved to where Batwoman had left the young man moaning on the floor. Together, they dragged him to the French windows, where he regained his feet.

“Listen, Jamie. I’ve decided discretion is the better part of valor. We’re going. When I say run, we’ll all run.”

“Oh, I think we can take the lasses,” Jamie said.

“Have you been watching the same fight I have?” Zoe asked, glancing at the battle zone where the Distaff Duo slammed two Second Hands together and leapt at the third.

“No,” the young man replied. “I was too busy fighting.”

“Never mind, Jamie,” Clock King advised.

“But—”

“Oh, come along, your hairy-legged Highlander! We’re going!”

“Aye. So you said. What about your clock?” Jamie protested.

“We’ll get it another . . . time,” he said, glancing up at the approaching heroines. “Now, run!” The villainous trio plunged through the open French windows.

“Hurry!” Batwoman yelled. “They’re getting away!”

“Not this time,” Flamebird said. She reached for a pair of pouches on her utility belt and withdrew two pairs of balls attached to either end of thin leather straps. The items she had selected were bolas, ranged weapons of prehistoric origin capable of entwining a target and holding the wrapped limbs in place. She had been introduced to these useful weapons when the villainous Playgirl had used the young heroine and Robin for target practice as a prelude to their planned demise. Holding a bola in each hand by its strap, Flamebird stepped onto the lawn and began whirling her weapons in each hand and lifting them above her head. After a moment, she let each fly. Flamebird’s weapons skimmed over the lawn toward the retreating criminals.

Jamie felt the leather strap encircle his knees while the balls orbited his thighs and calves in opposite directions several times. His legs had been snared in a second and he fell over face first. He swore and reached for his dirk.

The second weapon hit Zoe in the center of her back and held her arms tightly to her sides. She began vainly struggling as her legs kept pace with Clock King, directly behind him. Suddenly, she tripped and fell, colliding with her criminal master, knocking him to the ground.

Just as he fell, a Batarang flew over their heads.

“I just missed him!” Batwoman said, slamming her gloved hand into her gloved fist. “Nice work, Flamebird! Come on. Let’s get them!”

“Oh no, you don’t,” one of the Second Hands the heroines had demolished in the living room said. He led his comrades in a renewed attack and the second round of the fight began.

Jamie had freed himself and hurried to where Zoe had rolled off of the Clock King and continued fiercely struggling. “Hold still,” the henchman said, through gritted teeth.

“Where is the key?” Clock King angrily demanded. “Oh no! I dropped it!”

Jamie saw sunlight glint off of something and reached toward it. “Is this it?’ he asked, picking up the item.

“Yes. Hurry! Open the TARDIS!” Clock King commanded. “Give me your dirk before you go.”

Batwoman and Flamebird Batcuffed the Second Hands after dispensing with them a second time. Without a word, both hurried to the lawn and raced after the criminals. By the time the Distaff Duo caught sight of the villainous trio, Jamie was unlocking the TARDIS door while Clock King waved a handkerchief gleefully at them. Zoe had apparently caught up to her companions and turned to laugh at their pursuers seconds before all three entered the strange, alien craft.

“Well,” Batwoman thoughtfully said, “we caught the Second Hands; prevented Clock King from stealing the antique for which he came; and came as close as ever to catching him.”

“I’m sure we’ll see him again,” the Girl Wonder predicted.

“Time will tell,” Batwoman responded. “From what he said when we first arrived, Clock King must have encountered Batgirl.”

“Apparently, he tried something,” Flamebird observed. “If she called to alert the authorities about this robbery, she’s okay.”

“I’m sure she is,” Batwoman agreed. “We’ll all be waiting for Clock King to return."

Flamebird's eyes glinted mischievously behind her goggles. "Yes. Apparently, he could be back at literally any time.”

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