The Further Adventures of Batman (47 page)

It was already after five o’clock when Bertram Walters drove the Jennings Radio Supply delivery truck up the long, curved driveway leading to Wayne Manor. Joe Sampson had said something that got Walters thinking, and when he’d finished locating all of the electrical components to fill Wayne’s order, Waters had volunteered to make the delivery himself. Sampson had only shrugged, thankful to be going home early. He hadn’t questioned why Waters would do him such a favor.

What Sampson had said was that Bruce Wayne bought as many electrical supplies as some of the largest factories in town. What did he do with it all? It seemed like too great a quantity for a mere hobbyist, someone who enjoyed puttering around in his basement workshop building homemade burglar alarms and electric-eye garage door openers. Unless, of course, Wayne were an electronics genius, just as Bertram Walters was. That seemed highly unlikely, too. Wayne was very well-known in Gotham City, but his reputation was as a wealthy playboy and socialite, not as a new Thomas Edison.

Waters switched off the truck’s engine, opened the door, and jumped down to the gravel drive. He had a few not-so-innocent questions for whoever came to the door, and if the answers to those questions suited him, Waters might soon be embarked on an entirely new career—one that promised to be much more lucrative than his current job. Holding a clipboard and a box of vacuum tubes, Waters rang the doorbell and waited.

“Yes?” The man who opened the front door wasn’t Bruce Wayne, whose photograph Waters had seen often enough in the newspaper. This must be the butler that Sampson mentioned, thought Waters.

“Jennings Radio,” said Waters, trying to sound bored.

“Yes, of course,” said the butler. He paused and examined Waters briefly. “Another gentleman usually delivers Mr. Wayne’s orders.”

“Yeah?” said Waters. “Well, today he didn’t.”

“Indeed, sir. Shall I sign?” he took the clipboard holding the invoice and packing list from Waters.

“Right. Top copy is yours.”

The butler was shrewed enough not to return the clipboard until he’d examined the invoice thoroughly. “Pardon me, sir,” he said at last, “but unless you have quite a few more parcels in your truck, this order is incomplete.”

“Yeah, well, the stuff’s on back order. It should be in tomorrow. I’ll make a special trip out just as soon as it comes in.”

“Thank you,” said the butler. “I’m sure Mr. Wayne will be most appreciative.”

“Uh huh. So tell me, this boss of yours, does he do a lot of electrical work around the house or what?”

The butler permitted himself a tiny smile. “Oh no, I wouldn’t say that. Everyone knows that Mr. Wayne certainly doesn’t need to attend to his own wiring difficulties.”

“Well, he sure orders enough junk. All those vacuum tubes and everything.”

“I believe, sir, that Mr. Wayne is planning to build a television set. He finds that sort of thing relaxing.”

“Then he’s not some sort of brilliant inventor, huh?”

Again, the butler favored Waters with a brief smile. “Oh, my goodness, no. He finds the plans in those home mechanic’s magazines, but to be brutally honest, he’s never yet finished a project. Now, good day to you, sir.” He closed the great oak door quickly and firmly.

Well, Mr. Wayne, you have a clever and quick-witted butler, thought Waters, as he headed back to the delivery truck. A television set with two thousand tubes! You’ll be able to tune in Mars if you want. But Waters was sure now that the components from Jennings Radio Supply would never form the inside of a television receiver. There was only one private citizen in all of Gotham City who would use such a great quantity of sophisticated electronic gear, and at the same time be so cautious about hiding the fact—the Batman!

Mr. Wayne, thought Waters as he drove the delivery truck to his own apartment, you’ll receive the remainder of your order tomorrow, but first I want to put my own stamp of approval on every single part. And then I’ll be ready for you when we meet at last.

Several weeks later, Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson were putting the finishing touches on the newly completed BATIVAC, the Batman Algorithmic Tabular Integrated Vector Analzyer and Calculator. They had both enjoyed constructing the mammoth machine because the practical experience had taught them a great deal about the latest developments in electronics and data processing. There still remained the task of entering Batman’s vast library of crime information. However, much of that was stored on punch cards for use with the non-obsolete Crime Data Analyzer, and the cards were also compatible with the BATIVAC. New information would have to be recorded on still more punch cards, and that job fell to the reliable Alfred, who, it should be obvious, was far more than a butler to his ever-vigilant masters.

Shortly before midnight, the red warning light far underground in the Batcave began flashing, indicating that the Bat-Signal was blazing through the night sky over Gotham City, invisible to Wayne and Grayson. They changed into their costumes as they raced to the Batmobile, as they had on innumerable occasions in the past. “I wonder what dangers we’ll face tonight, Batman,” said Robin.

“We’ll learn soon enough,” replied the Caped Crusader. “We’ll report first to Commissioner Gordon. There are no urgent calls on the emergency radio frequency, so whatever the trouble is, no citizens or police officers are in a life-threatening situation.”

“I suppose we can be grateful for that, but there are certainly plenty of other ways for crooks to cause trouble without using deadly force. And I’ll bet we’ve fought every one.”

Batman laughed ruefully. “Yet every time we think we’ve seen it all, Robin,” he said, “some misguided mastermind comes up with an entirely new avenue of attack.

“We’ve been shot at, gassed, and trapped in burning buildings. The one thing we’ll never have to worry about is being
bored
to death.”

They drove at high speed through the rain-slicked city streets. It was late enough that there was little traffic about. Just before they reached police headquarters, Batman glanced at Robin. “Something’s been bothering me about the Bat-Signal, Robin,” he said. “Have you noticed it, too?”

“It seems to be flickering, Batman. Do you think it needs repair?”

“That’s what I thought at first, but observe it carefully. The flickers aren’t occurring at random.”

“Gosh, you’re right! It’s a message in Morse Code! Let’s see: B-A-T-M-A-N-!  Y-O-U  A-R-E  H-E-L-P-L-E-S-S  A-G-A-I-N-S-T  T-H-E  A-W-E-S-O-M-E  M-E-N-A-C-E  O-F  T-H-E  P-O-L-A-R-I-Z-E-R-! But who or what is The Polarizer?”

“Perhaps the commissioner knows,” said Batman. He had an ominous feeling that although the city’s law enforcement chief had not seen fit to give the matter top priority, the case would soon prove to be one of the most bizarre and dangerous in the Batman’s long career.

Leaving the Batmobile in a parking place reserved for police vehicles, the Dynamic Duo went inside to meet with the police commissioner. They hurried into the building and up to the commissioner’s office.

“We got here as quickly as we could, Commissioner Gordon,” said Batman.

“Good evening, Batman, Robin,” said Gordon. He looked slightly perplexed. “Is there something I can do for you?”

Batman and Robin exchanged glances. “We came as soon as our warning light in the Batcave notified us that you’d activated the Bat-Signal, Commissioner,” said Batman.

Gordon stood up behind his deck and looked levelly at the costumed crimefighters. “I don’t know what you mean, Batman,” he said. “I haven’t turned on the Bat-Signal this evening. You know that the control switch is right here on my desk. I haven’t used it, and I haven’t been out of this room at all tonight, so that no one else could have used it, either. And even if the Bat-Signal had been operated without my knowledge, how could that help a crook in his criminal activity?”

“Hmm,” said Batman. “It may be just an electrical problem, but perhaps it’s something much more sinister. I think we’d better go up to the roof of Police Headquarters and examine the Bat-Signal itself.”

When they all arrived there, the rooftop was deserted, but the Bat-Signal was still flashing its message in Morse Code across the clouds over Gotham City. “What does it mean, Batman?” asked Commissioner Gordon.

“I’m not sure, Commissioner,” said Batman. “It seems to be a taunting threat, but I don’t know of any criminal who calls himself The Polarizer. Perhaps it’s just a demented hoax, but until we know for certain, we’ll have to stay on guard.”

“Look, Batman!” called Robin. “I’ve found a note.”

“Is it in Morse Code, too?” asked Gordon.

“Let me see it,” said Batman, taking the paper from Robin. “No it’s in plain English. It’s addressed to me. ‘Dear Batman: Sorry I couldn’t wait around to meet you in person, but while I lured you here, I’ve been robbing Shattuck Brothers Jewelry. For quite a while I’ve been admiring a sapphire and diamond necklace in their display window. Don’t worry, though—we’ll meet in person soon enough. At that time, you’ll learn what it means to pit your meager skills against my power!’ It’s signed ‘The Polarizer.’ ”

Commissioner Gordon took the note from Batman and studied it for a moment. “He sounds quite mad.”

“Yes, that may be so,” said Batman. “But he certainly knows enough about electricity to control the Bat-Signal from some remote location. And he has a strange sense of humor, as well, to use the Bat-Signal itself as a diversion to lure us here while he committed his robbery elsewhere. Somehow, I have no doubt that The Polarizer has made good on his boast. It’s time for Robin and me to investigate the break-in at the jewelry store.”

With Batman and Robin otherwise occupied at Police Headquarters, it was relatively simple for The Polarizer to break into the Gotham Ritz Jewelry Exchange. “Ha ha,” he gloated, “even if those costumed fools decipher the Bat-Signal’s message and find my note, they’ll rush off in the wrong direction!” Although all the most elegant and luxurious jewelry had been put away in a safe for the night, there was still a large quantity of expensive merchandise left in the Jewelry Exchange’s glass showcases. The Polarizer moved from one to another, stealing only the most exquisite and valuable pieces. I must hurry, he thought, aware that silent alarms must be sounding in a nearby police station. I can’t afford to be greedy. I’ll take only enough to pay my expenses for another year of graduate study.

When he estimated that he’d taken enough, he climbed back out through the plate-glass window he’d shattered only a few minutes before. He paused a moment to glance down the street in both directions, but he saw no one. He turned and sprinted down a narrow alley, where he’d parked the Jennings Radio Supply delivery truck. Already he could hear the howling shriek of sirens as police patrols began to converge on the neighborhood.

The Polarizer threw his bag of loot carelessly into the back of the delivery truck and climbed in, pulling down the overhead door behind him. Hurriedly, he stripped off the stark black and white costume and the grotesque mask that hid his features. He had become Bertram Waters once again. Kittlemeier did a great job with this suit, he thought. I wonder if he could give me some advice about hiring henchmen. I could’ve gotten away with a lot more jewelry if I’d had a henchman or two. But you can’t just put an ad in the Help Wanted section of the newspaper for somebody like that.