Harley Quinn Romance 3

Chapter 13: Things Revealed

Closing the door behind her, she got to work. The file cabinets were locked, but she bypassed them in seconds, pawing through confidential records and internal corporate documents in a search for anything of apparent significance.

Not finding what she was looking for, Harley turned her attention to the desk. The computer had been left on and unsecured; Harley speculated the executive had probably thought the keycard access on the door was sufficient security, but if that were the case, she didn't understand why the file cabinets had been locked. She put her suspicions aside temporarily and scrolled through a few emails; she didn't find anything incriminating, but she did find a letter about Mr. Drexel, instructing the executive who owned the office to have him transferred back home when his job was done.

Harley frowned when the letter failed to identify either the location of their home office or what Mr. Drexel's full job entailed. The only thing she did find was the name of the executive's boss. She made a mental note of it, planning to run it past Bruce and see if he recognized it.

She checked her watch and realized she was taking too long. Picking up the phone beside the desk lamp, Harley pressed the button to speed dial security. When a voice answered, she interrupted him and told him her floor and office number, forcing into her tone all the irritation at having to deal with menials she could manage.

"Some woman is in the bathroom across the hall," Harley reported. "I don't know if she's asleep or what, but you get her out of there and back to work or there's going to more than one person on the unemployment line. Do I make myself clear?"

Harley didn't wait for an answer but slammed the phone down to end the call. She headed quickly for the exit.

Her elevator arrived, and she was just stepping into it when another elevator two doors down also opened and released a squad of heavily armed security. She saw them rush past as the elevator doors closed. The response time had been impressive, and Harley was satisfied the executive, whoever and whatever she was, would receive any needed medical care for her injuries if they were more than superficial. Harley's act of mercy put her at a disadvantage for security would be looking for an intruder in very short order.

Once out of the elevator, Harley used the cleaning van for cover from the security camera once more, slipping over the concrete barrier and under the cut chain link fence, scooping up her leather jacket in passing. She had just started up her motorcycle when a team of security guards burst into the garage. Opening up the throttle, Harley sped away before any could get a good look at her.

Harley pulled to a stop in an alleyway. Opening an electrical panel, she flipped one of the breakers to release a locking mechanism. Half of the panel released, swinging out to expose a security keypad. Typing quickly, she input the code before putting everything back the way she found it. The brick wall at the end of the alley swung inward on concealed hinges, granting access to the underground tunnels used by Batman. She drove quickly inside before the automated system closed the hidden door. With a revving of the engine, she headed back to the batcave with her acquired information. Harley didn't believe anyone had spotted her, but using the tunnels was an extra precaution she thought couldn't hurt.

Parking her motorcycle in the vehicle section of the cave, she closed the door on the chamber to keep the bats out and headed upstairs. She checked the security panel beside the hidden door connecting the cave with the library of Wayne manor to be certain no guests were in the house and in position to see the passageway open. Satisfied all was clear, Harley pressed the button, and a large grandfather clock slid to one side, opening the way into the house.

Bruce was sitting on the far cushion of the chocolate colored sofa. Alfred stood nearby, his posture as straight as ever. Harley had noticed age never seemed to affect the butler's refined manners, and a part of her wondered again if the real butler had died years ago only to be replaced by a robotic copy.

"I'm just not getting anywhere," Bruce told Alfred. "It's an endless tangle of interconnecting webs with one leading into another before it goes elsewhere, only to be revealed as just another layer of something else. I've seen complicated organizational structures before, but this could take years to sift through and still not have any guarantee of success."

"What could take years?" Harley asked.

Bruce's eyes shifted to her, and a small smile appeared momentarily before he spoke of his frustration.

"I was telling Alfred what I've been able to dig out in regards to Conglomerated Industries' corporate structure," Bruce explained. "With so many subsidiaries and associated companies, many of them crossing international lines, it's been a major headache trying to find anything about who's running the thing."

"I have a name," Harley replied.

"How?" Bruce questioned.

"Drexel led me to a corporate office, and I found some info there," Harley informed him. She reached into the suit jacket she was wearing and began taking out the weapons, setting them down in a growing pile on the coffee table in front of the sofa. "I also found out their executives are decent fighters, who like to carry a lot of weapons."

"My word," Alfred breathed when the last knife landed atop the pile.

"What else did you find out?" Bruce prompted.

"Whoever is giving Drexel and the heavily armed executives orders is somebody called Mr. Lazarus," Harley answered.

Bruce and Alfred exchanged looks.

"What?" Harley inquired.