Chapter Three

"I think it'll work."

Jay Dee looked up from the monitor he'd been working on for well over an hour. He and McEwan exchanged self-satisfied smiles.

The Network was in the so-called computer lab. Jay Dee explained to Dick that the local corporate giant, Wayne Enterprises, had donated the necessary equipment and software for a job skills training program that the JDC was supposed to have implemented over eight months ago.

Except for the sole terminal that Jay Dee had managed to assemble (without the knowledge of the JDC staff) the computers still lay inside unopened boxes which were sitting here collecting dust. The computer lab was little more than just a storage room.

After four days of aborted attempts, Jay Dee had finally managed to access the JDC Personnel and Security System. To avoid detection, the boys had limited their computer use to a few hours a day. Today had been the longest single session they'd attempted.

While Jay Dee played with his computer, Lucky sat on the floor on lookout duty, his forehead pressed against the door. His methods were more old-fashioned. He'd installed a peephole two days ago setting it at knee-high level in order to minimize detection. He grinned suddenly. The JDC shop teacher, Mr. Benson, hadn't understood why Lucky was so determined to make *kaleidoscopes*, of all things. In truth, he'd been making periscopic sights specifically for the computer lab; however, he'd also strategically installed a few "peep holes" throughout the JDC in order to increase the Network's surveillance capabilities.

Lucky took out a special ninety-degree attachment and screwed it into the socket. Instant periscope! The micro-instrument had special mirrors angled inside it that allowed the operator to rotate his line of vision 360 degrees. He looked through it and quickly began to adjust the sights.

Hmm-m. Needs fine-tuning, he thought. Lucky absentmindedly began searching his pockets for his jewelers' tools. His right hand bumped into something hard in his inside pocket. Oh-oh! Almost forgot!

"Yo! Jay Dee! Got that thingamajig you asked me for! . . . Here!" Lucky turned around and tossed Jay Dee a palm-sized instrument without warning.

"Hey!" Jay Dee reacted too late. To his horror he saw his hands miss the homemade electronics gadget as it continued on its arc to smash against the floor. Time appeared to stop . . . the boys caught in mid-tableau.

In a blink, a small blur crossed in front of Jay Dee and suddenly a young voice cried out in triumph.

"Got it!"  Time resumed.

Grinning broadly, Dick held up the instrument in his hand. Jay Dee carefully took the small unit from him then slowly exhaled. His eyes targeted daggers at Lucky who squirmed guiltily and turned back to his work.

"Like I said," Jay Dee continued, "it should work . . . Of course, Montana and Ghoul will have to do some split second timing, but unless Jenkins and Fitzhugh suddenly have an attack of intelligence, we should be able to pull it off."

"Montana . . . Ghoul . . . you guys up to playing decoy?" McEwan asked.

"You kiddin', Fingers? I get to bash up Ghoul and he *lets* me? Who do I have to pay?" Montana was grinning in anticipation.

"Hey, you just watch the face!" Ghoul wasn't too happy about being a punching bag. He shrugged and smiled weakly.

"I mean, you don't want to be the instrument responsible for breaking the hearts of hundreds of Gotham women, now do you?" Ghoul looked expectantly at Montana for reassurance. When none was forthcoming he repeated his question. "Well . . . do you?"

McEwan shook his head in mute disgust. Ghoul's looks were his Achilles' heel . . . the main reason he was part of the Network. He was so afraid of being hurt or disfigured that he literally cowered in the face of any serious threat. McEwan's Network provided the big guy with a sense of self-esteem . . . of belonging; unfortunately, he wasn't dependable under stress.

"Oh, I don't think that there will be all *that* many hearts broken, Ghoul . . . and it *is* for a good cause," Jay Dee said. He was studiously checking his fingernails.

Dick noted that the tips looked in need of clipping, not to mention cleaning. He turned away in disgust. I just hope he doesn't bite them! Jay Dee calmly proceeded to do just that.  Oh, God. I'm gonna be sick, thought Dick.

"Fingers . . . ?" Ghoul's eyes looked panicky.

"Don't worry, Ghoul," McEwan said reassuringly. "Montana won't touch your face . . . Can't let all those babes down now, can we?" Ghoul smiled gratefully. McEwan was the nicest guy he knew; the only one who had never laughed at him.

"Lucky, see any ferrets?" McEwan used the juvie derogatory term for the JDC aides.

"Nope . . . they're probably all catching z's . . . I heard the Dragon Lady was out for the day . . . some kinda custody hearing or something." Lucky caught Dick's eye. "Hey, Acrobat . . . maybe it's about you. You've sure been here a whole lot longer than most of the other foster kids."

Dick, who was sitting on top of the stacked boxes, nodded and yawned. He had no clue what Lucky was talking about and was too tired to ask. He wished that they would be done soon; he didn't know how much longer he'd be able to stay awake. That stunt had taken the last vestiges of energy that he had.

If he could just close his eyes for a few minutes, he'd be okay. He valiantly fought off sleep for several minutes, but finally succumbed to his exhaustion . . .

*****

McEwan found Dick a few minutes later, curled on his side and sleeping soundly. He removed his Gotham Knights leather jacket and covered the small boy. He shook his head in disgust over a system that would place such a defenseless kid in a place like this . . . for his *own good* no less.

The little Acrobat sure reminded him of Bobby, his younger brother. He would've been nine . . . no ten . . . last May. McEwan's memory replayed the sounds of screeching tires and gunfire from that night so long ago. The taunting laughter of the gang members as they drove away still rang in his ears.

His mother's screams still echoed . . . "BOBBY! . . . BOBBY! . . . My, God NO!" 

McEwan later found out that his house had been targeted by mistake. The gang had meant to hit the house across the street. McEwan closed his fist in silent rage.

Bobby was dead because of a frigging mistake!

The incident changed him. McEwan didn't admit it openly; he didn't even admit it to himself. But from that moment on, he was changed. Whereas before that night, if he'd witnessed any gang violence or activity, McEwan would have just looked the other way, now he called the cops. He never identified himself, choosing instead to leave anonymous tips; nevertheless, he placed the call.

Oh, McEwan was no angel. He still managed to relieve the occasional mark of his or her valuables; he still eluded Detective Bullock and his boys down at robbery and bunco. Business as usual. But in between, he kept his eyes peeled and phoned in his tips.

Before long, the gangs knew that a stoolie was operating in their turf and began taking measures. At first the gangs escalated their violence against each other; however, when the police obviously responded to attacks from either side, the gang leaders finally wised up, realizing that the informer had to be an outsider. A civilian. A concerned citizen.

The gangs' tactics changed. They became focused on terrorizing the neighborhoods, subjecting innocent bystanders to random violence. McEwan almost lost his resolve, but one visit to Bobby's graveside restored it.

"I swear, little brother, that I'll never let you down . . . I swear that I'll never quit until I bring down all those responsible!" He didn't care if he ended up lying next to Bobby; at least he'd be able to face his brother should they meet again . . .

*****

"Got it!" Jay Dee cried out triumphantly.

McEwan snapped back to the present. He looked on Dick's peaceful countenance. His features softened momentarily. "Don't worry, little Acrobat," he whispered. "I won't let you down, either." McEwan turned his attention to Jay Dee. "What have you got? And keep your voice down. The kid's asleep."

"The codes, baby . . . I've got the security codes!" Jay Dee kept his voice nonchalant but held up his hand for a high five. McEwan slapped it.

"Yes!" McEwan said. "How fast can you set it up?"

"Gonna take sometime, Fingers. I mean, it took me the better part of two hours to find the security files. I'm downloading now. It'll take a coupla hours to complete the download, then a couple more to decode it . . . and it's almost time for lockdown."

"Damn! Well, there's no helping it . . . we can't screw it up now . . . can this thing finish what it's doing without us?"

"Sure . . . but if anything goes sour . . . or if the ferrets on monitor duty actually do their jobs . . . the first time in this century . . . we could be in trouble." Jay Dee shrugged fatalistically.

"Well, let's think positive . . . nothing will go wrong . . . but if it *does* . . . " McEwan mirrored Jay Dee's shrug ". . . we won't be here to get the blame." He turned to the others. "Okay, group . . . it's almost time for bed-a-bye . . . Look around your immediate areas. Make sure you don't forget anything . . . Remember, if it doesn't have a layer of dust, then it probably doesn't belong here! Ghoul, pick up the kid . . . hey, be careful, King Kong! He ain't no sack of potatoes!"

McEwan hurried over annoyed at Ghoul's clumsiness. He absentmindedly brushed back a stray lock of raven hair from Dick's forehead. The boy slept on oblivious to the rough handling.

"Sorry, Fingers . . . he's just so *small*, y'know?" Ghoul looked nonplussed. Shaking his head, McEwan rolled his eyes upward. He turned to Jay Dee.

"Jay Dee? Almost done?"

"Almost . . . " Jay Dee typed in a few more commands, took out the palm-sized unit, plugged it into one of the CPU's comports, then typed some more. To McEwan it seemed that about a million characters suddenly scrolled down the monitor in a split second. Instantaneously, Jay Dee's mysterious unit beeped twice. Jay Dee sighed in satisfaction. "Okay, it's cooking now. When it's done, the system will go into sleep mode until I reactivate it . . . with this!"

"Lucky, what exactly *is* that thingamajig anyway?" Montana asked. "Is that why we broke into the Dragon Lady's lair that last time?"

Lucky shrugged.

"Hey, I just built the thing. Jay Dee wrote the specs!" He turned to Jay Dee. "What is it, Jay Dee? I had to rummage through almost half the boxes in here for some of the electronics; but most of the circuits weren't small enough, so Montana an' me sorta relieved our favorite Director of the use of her personal laptop."

"You broke into Cunningham's office and stole her laptop without clearing it with *me* first?" McEwan asked, stunned.

"Hey, Jay Dee said you cleared the specs . . . that translates to *whatever means necessary* in *my* book!" Lucky said defensively. "Besides, I didn't say we *stole* her laptop. I said we relieved her of her use of it. I needed some micro-components, so . . . I scrounged."

"I sometimes wonder why I bother with you guys!" McEwan looked close to hitting somebody. "Do you know what could've happened to you if you'd been caught?"

"Yeah, they would've arrested me and sentenced me to six months in the JDC . . . Geez, what could I have been thinking? Oh, wait! I'm already here! Man, what's your problem anyway?" Lucky folded his arms, his body language exuding attitude.

"Chill, Fingers," Montana broke in. "We were careful, man, and we weren't caught . . . Look, I promise that next time I break into the Dragon Lady's lair, I'll clear it with you first. All right?"

McEwan nodded reluctantly. He didn't like it, but it was done already. Somebody tell me again how hanging with these boneheads is a good thing? He sighed.

"Let's get outta here." The others nodded in agreement.

Chapter Four

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