But it got better still at the end. After he and the doctor were done with the batmen, they had to see to their very special project, the one closest to The Joker's big, open, continually bleeding heart. It was time to visit the man who, in his pitifully inadequate former existence, had been known as Big Mike, remade now in the only image that really mattered---that of The Joker!

  The real, actual, accept-no-substitutes Joker chuckled as Dr. Andrews led the way. The poor doctor. He was only in this for the money, and maybe something stupid like scientific curiosity.

  The Joker was in this for love.

  For love of Batman, first, for how could The Joker exist without his Batman? How boring life would be without a worthy nemesis! The Joker and Batman were much more than good guy vs. bad guy. They were night and day, crime and punishment, trickster and straight man, and oh, so much more!

  The Joker was sometimes a little hurt that Batman didn't appreciate him more. That was, of course, one of the main reasons he'd killed the second Robin---to get that Bat guy's attention! And if you couldn't get Batman to appreciate you, why not make a few of your own that you'd make sure knew who the real super-villain was around here!

  And then, once he'd built his better batmen, he'd send them out on specially developed robberies. If they succeeded in defeating the robbers, he'd know he had a batman worth keeping. And if the robbers killed the "Batman" instead, what the hey, The Joker got all that money! As far as he could see, this was a real win-win situation.

  And it got better! Once The Joker got a working "Batman" of his very own, what was to keep him from killing the real thing? Hey who would know the difference especially when you're talking about somebody as wooden as Batman?

  After he'd killed the boring old bat, of course, he'd always keep one or two of the substitutes around, you know, to swing down from tall buildings, accept civic awards, maybe even foil the occasional crime The Joker would specially set up for the occasion. The Joker's very own batboys---they'd give him all the thrills without the risks.

  This was so good, he didn't know how he could top it.

  Well, maybe he could start with this guy in the cell here. What a handsome face he had, with that delicate chalk-white pallor, those temptingly wide, bloodred lips---and wherever could you see the likes of his lustrous, bright green hair? (Only his hairdresser knew for sure!)

  The Joker laughed as he pushed the button to remove the glass.

  The man who had been Big Mike tried to laugh back. It came out more like a gargled groan.

  The Joker was appalled. "He can't laugh! Why can't he laugh?"

  "He's in too much pain," the doctor explained. "The surgical scars on his face, where we restructured his lips and cheekbones---they've barely begun to heal."

  Oh, dear. This was upsetting. The Joker didn't like it when things got upsetting. "Barely begun to heal? I don't have that kind of time! We come up with a wonderful new technique that changes a man's brain in a matter of days, and you tell me we have to wait for weeks for the face to follow?"

  Dr. Andrews took a step away, as if he half expected The Joker to lash out. Dr. Andrews knew The Joker pretty well.

  "I'm afraid so," the doctor answered quietly. "I alter the human brain by using the fears and doubts that already exist inside it, building my changes on the foundations of my subject's neuroses. The plastic surgery, though perhaps less complex scientifically, is in its way a more wholesale change and requires the comparatively slow healing process of the human body."

  "So you say," The Joker replied brusquely. "I will have to speak to my team of surgeons concerning alternatives. In the meantime, what will we do here with Mr. Pain?" He pressed the first button again, and the glass shield slid back down the bars. He turned to the doctor.

  "Maybe we will have to use our first Joker for something special."

  The sun was gone, and there was still no word from Gordon.

  Batman had climbed into his car at sunset, and was already on his way. Part of him thought that perhaps it would be better if he waited until later, when the church members would be asleep. But the other, deeper part of him knew he had to act now.

  The Batmobile glided silently through the outskirts of the city, past late commuters and couples going to early parties. Sometimes this was Bruce Wayne's world, full of day-to-day tasks and social obligations. Tonight, it seemed like a foreign place to the Batman. He had only two reasons for being. He had to save Dick Grayson. And he had to make sure The Joker never hurt anybody ever again.

  Before he had left, he had used his computer to call up his detailed maps for the quarter of the city that held the Church of Perpetual Happiness. It was one of the oldest areas of Gotham, full of warehouses and tenements, although much of the overcrowded, substandard housing had been burned out, leaving empty, rubble-strewn lots that went on for blocks.

  The church itself was on a large, still-wooded lot, a phenomenally expensive piece of real estate, even in that corner of town. But the lot gave him an excellent place to hide the Batmobile, and an unobtrusive way to examine the church before he made his move.

  Batman pulled his car off the river highway and drove two of the three blocks to the church before taking a cross street that led to the walled, wooded lot. This outer wall was in as bad repair as the surrounding neighborhood. It wouldn't keep anybody out, but it offered plenty of places to hide. There had once been an iron gate that covered the entrance to the fire road Batman wanted to use, but only one half of the wrought iron was left, propped against the remaining brickwork. Batman drove straight in through the weeds, already high for so early in spring.

  He saw a few figures running as he drove beyond the gate. Dealers and junkies, most likely---this overgrown lot seemed to be the perfect place to conduct that kind of business. Maybe, after he and the police had cleaned up the church, Batman would come back here and do some more cleaning of his own.

  He left the Batmobile underneath a copse of trees. Almost as an afterthought, he activated a device that would send a small electrical shock through anyone who touched the vehicle. In a place like this, it was probably wise to discourage the curious. Not that anybody with any sense would fool with something like the Batmobile. Sometimes, though, Batman ran into people with no sense left at all.

  He cut through the trees to his left. According to his calculations, the church should be about three hundred yards ahead.

  "I'd stop where you were," a voice called out from the undergrowth."

  Batman paused. It was dark. He had made very little noise. Had someone been waiting for him?

  A bright light shone in his face. Then another.

  A number of voices spoke in low tones ahead. One said something about "hearing the alarm." There were half a dozen lights around him now, all powerful flashlight beams.

  "You are trespassing on church property," the same voice said.

  Batman wasn't going to be stopped now. He took a step forward. The beams all shifted with him.

  "We are within our rights to use force," the voice went on without emotion.

  "I am in pursuit of a known felon," Batman replied, disguising the truth very slightly. "My information indicates he could be hiding on these grounds."

  "Impossible," the voice replied. "We know everyone who comes through here. You have ten seconds to turn around, thirty to reach your vehicle, a minute to leave church grounds."

  Batman turned. There were too many of them to fight effectively. They had the advantage for now.

  "I wouldn't come back here, either!" the voice called after him. "The Church of Perpetual Happiness doesn't like your kind!"

  Batman didn't bother to reply. He knew for certain that he would be back here again.

  19

  All the members of the church whispered excitedly with one another, like schoolchildren waiting for Santa Claus. They had gathered in what Dick guessed was the main hall of worship. Multicolored saints stared down at them from stained-glass windows, although there were no crosses or other religious symbols left in the room. All of the pews had been removed, too, so that all of them had to stand. A makeshift podium with a microphone had been set up on the altar.

  "Believers!" someone yelled from the back of the room.

  Everyone was instantly silent.

  "The Reverend Droll is among us!"

  It startled Dick when everybody started to laugh. But laugh they did, and applaud. The din rose to a roar as a door behind the podium opened and a tall man in crimson robes emerged. Dick recognized the newcomer from the videotape Gordon had shown him. It was the Reverend Droll.

  Gordon and the videotape; somehow that seemed to have happened very long ago. Dick had to remember he was here to do more than just listen to Reverend Droll. He was here to question things, to see how the church operated.

  Reverend Droll grabbed the microphone.

  "Friends!" he called to his congregation. "Tell me! Have any of you been truly happy?"

  "Yes!" came back the deafening reply. Dick was amazed by the fervor of all of those around him. It was incredible to see this many people so full of faith. Maybe they had been right when they talked to him before. Maybe this was the thing that Dick had been missing. He still wished he had been able to find out more about the fundamentals of this church. But maybe now, with the Reverend Droll here, everything would become clear.

  "And how is my favorite congregation?" Droll called.

  "Happy!" was the booming response.

  Dick looked up and realized that the reverend was smiling directly at him.

  "I understand we have a new face among us tonight."

  "Dick," he found himself replying. "Dick---uh---Dick Brown."

  Droll reached his hands out toward Dick over the podium. "You are welcome among us, Dick Brown, for we know the pain you have suffered."

  The pain he had suffered? Dick frowned. He guessed that was just the way they greeted visitors to their congregation.

  "For who among us has not known pain?" Droll called.

  "Yes!" the congregation called back.

  "Who among us has not known misery?"

  "Yes!"

  "Who among us has not suffered before they found the church?"

  "Yes! Yes!" Some of the congregation started to pound their feet on the old wooden floor, setting up a boom! boom! boom! rhythm that filled the hall for a minute or more. The Reverend Droll smiled on benignly until they were done.

  Droll pointed again. "Dick Brown, you are new among us! But all of us know of your suffering!"

  "Yes, Dick!" Individuals shouted around him. "We know!" "We have all suffered!" "We understand!"

  "Your surrogate father rejected you!" Droll rumbled. "Your girlfriend left you!"

  Dick frowned. How could Droll know all that? Could he really be the divine messenger the church members claimed he was?

  "You have no friends in this world except for the church!" Droll exclaimed.

  Sharon was hugging him. The church? It was true. The church had accepted him right away. Still, there were an awful lot of questions he'd like to have answered. If only he could remember what they were. People were pounding on the floor again. Boom! Boom! Boom!

  "Accept the church, Dick!"

  "Yes!" all around him screamed.

  "Accept us as your friends!"

  "Yes! Accept us!"

  They wanted to let him in? To be a part of all this happiness? What would it hurt to agree?

  Droll raised both his hands to the heavens. "Accept us, be a part of us!"

  This joy was infectious. Dick found he really did want to be a part of this.

  "Yes!" the crowd shouted. "Yes!"

  "Accept us"---both Droll's hands closed into fists---"and we will all share the Joke!"

  "The Joke!" the crowd chorused. "Yes! Yes!"

  The Joke? That was what he was here to find. He had to do it.

  Dick smiled and nodded.

  "Yes," he said.

  "Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!" the crowd and Droll chanted together.

  Dick found himself surrounded by arms and hands, patting him, hugging him, lifting him from the ground. He was above a sea of smiling faces, many of them with tears running down their cheeks. He felt overwhelmed.

  "In a moment---" Droll called out, and the crowd's noise evaporated at the sound of his voice. "In a moment we will go and induct our newest member into the mysteries. We shall teach him the first level of the Joke!" He paused, his voice shifting to a lower, more serious register. "And as we do so, I want each and every one of you to reflect on what the church has meant to your lives. For the Church of Perpetual Happiness is facing treachery!"

  The spirit of joy in the room seemed to freeze. It was as if the sun had vanished completely from the sky in the middle of the Fourth of July. The change was that abrupt. Dick found he missed the spontaneous joy.

  "There are those who would compromise us," Droll continued quickly. "Those we have thought of as friends, but are scheming to undermine us. All of us might have to fight for the greater glory of the Joke!"

  "Yes!" the crowd shouted. "Yes!"

  And as quickly as that, the joy was back.

  "Come now!" Droll exhorted the others. "Let's bring Dick Brown into the fold. It is time for the Joke!"

  The following roar cut off abruptly, interrupted by a heavy pounding on the church's great double doors.

  "Open up!" an amplified voice came through the wood. "Police!"

  Gordon had finally gotten the go-ahead.

  It felt like he'd had to spend the past six hours trying to call in every favor with every member of the judicial system he'd ever spoken with in his entire career. Even his old buddy Judge Garman didn't want to disturb a church---the whole separation of church and state again---until Gordon had shown him the videotape of their questionable solicitation practices. It might not have gotten him any convictions, but it did get him a search warrant. And this time there was no reason Gordon couldn't go himself.

  He gathered a dozen of his best men. Unfortunately, he couldn't reach Batman. He decided to leave him a message and move on. It had taken so long to get the authorization, he didn't want to wait any longer. He was sure Batman would understand, even approve. They had to open up that church and find a young man answering to the name of Dick Brown before anything more could happen to him.

  Fifteen minutes later, Gordon stood with a bullhorn, making demands at a still-closed double door.

  "Police!" he called again. "We've got a warrant."

  There was a heavy clank on the other side of the doors. A moment later one of the doors opened.

  "The church," a tall, gangly man began, "doesn't believe in wordly things like---"

  Gordon didn't even let the man finish. "Push the door in!" he called to the two men closest to him. The officers quickly climbed the steps and pushed the tall man out of the way. Gordon strode in after them.

  Gordon could hardly believe what happened next. It was like one of those protests back in the sixties. There must have been close to three hundred people in this room, and every single one of them sat down, side by side, to block any farther progress into the building.

  No one moved, except in the back, where a small crowd seemed to be hustling someone, or something, away.

  "Commissioner!" Detective Haley yelled as he pointed at one of the young men in the front of the crowd. "Look over here!"

  "Oh, my God," Gordon whispered. It was Thompson, the young police officer who had disappeared in the church.

  "Thompson!" he called as he rushed over to the man. "Don't you know me? It's Gordon!"

  The former rookie cringed as Gordon were going to hit him. "I don't care how you know my name!" Thompson screamed up at him. "The Joke will protect me!"

  Gordon stopped abruptly. What in heaven's name was going on here?

  "What is the meaning of this?" a deep voice called from the back of the hall. Gordon looked across the sit-in to see Reverend Droll, dressed in long red robes.

  "Reverend Droll," he said evenly, trying not to show the anger that threatened to overwhelm him. "I have a warrant. We will search the building. If you don't cooperate, I'll have you all arrested."

  "This sounds like police harassment," Droll replied. "It won't look very good in the papers."

  "Will it look any better that you had a disagreement with the authorities?" Gordon replied. "Authorities whom you refused to cooperate with."

  Droll paused for a moment, as if considering his options. He smiled at Gordon. "Now, now," he said in a quieter tone. "I'm sure there's a way we can work this all out. We can all be reasonable. There's nothing here to hide. We're a charitable organization, after all. I'll personally take you on a tour of the facilities."

  Why this sudden turnaround? Somehow, Gordon felt, they had already missed their chance. Dick Brown, or anybody else being held against their will, would be nowhere to be found.

  Still, he had to look. He stepped forward, and Droll's congregation parted before him like the Red Sea.

  When Batman got back into the Batmobile, he found a message waiting for him. As soon as he was beyond the church walls, he played it back, and discovered that by now Gordon would have entered the church from the other side.

  He drove around to the front of the church, where he found Gordon's car and three police cruisers. All the cars were empty, the street was deserted. He climbed from the Batmobile and hurried up the church steps.

  The front doors were closed. Batman knocked. There was no response. He pushed at the door, but apparently they had locked it after the police had gone inside. Strange. The doors were too sturdy to force, unless he ran into them with the front of the Batmobile.

  Perhaps, Batman thought, that solution was a little extreme, at least for the moment. He should be patient and wait for a sign of the police. He stepped back from the steps to see if he could spot any other activity around the church, but everything was quiet.

 

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