Batman Versus the Fearsome Foursome Read online

  The Caper

  1. KIDNAP Commander Redhead of Schlepp’s Whiskey Company and his Total Dehydrator

  2. ABDUCT the nine members of the Security Council of the United Nations

  The Villains

  That fearsome foursome

  Penguin • Riddler • Joker • Catwoman

  Can our heroes Batman and the Boy Wonder Robin thwart the evildoers in their nefarious plan? Can the Caped Crusaders for law and order defeat the archfiends of United Underworld?

  From the depths of the Atlantic Ocean to the towering heights of the United Nations it’s a fantastic caper and it begins on page five of this Signet Batbook.

  VS. THE FEARSOME FOURSOME

  Novelization by WINSTON LYON

  Based on a Screenplay

  By Lorenzo Semple, Jr.

  CHAPTER 1

  The low-slung rakish-looking car rounded a corner at top speed. Tires whined, and the car swayed dangerously to one side, Bruce Wayne expertly swung the wheel hard over. The car held the road.

  Ahead loomed the great gray-white mansion known as Wayne Manor with iron gates protecting the driveway.

  Beside Bruce Wayne in the speeding convertible was his young ward, Dick Grayson. Dick’s hand reached out to the instrument panel and flicked a switch which powered an automatic beam from the headlights. The beam focused on the iron gate, cut an electric circuit.

  The iron gates slowly swung back as the convertible made the sharp turn and raced up into the driveway.

  Inside the manor house Aunt Harriet Cooper was seated in her favorite armchair near the window, knitting a floral-patterned doily. Alfred, the lean, tall, solemnvisaged butler, was dusting a table.

  Aunt Harriet pushed her spectacles back on her forehead.

  “My goodness, Alfred! Who just came racing into our driveway like that?”

  “Perhaps I should investigate,” Alfred suggested.

  “I wish you would, Alfred. Mr. Wayne would never drive so recklessly. Especially if he has Master Grayson with him in the car.”

  Alfred smiled politely, and walked without apparent haste from the room. Beyond the door, out of Aunt Harriet’s sight, the butler’s pace quickened. He was running when he went down the main hall of the great manor. As he reached the door of Bruce Wayne’s study, he heard the impatient movements of someone within.

  Alfred opened the door.

  Inside the study Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson looked up anxiously. Dick Grayson had just flipped open the bald pate of a bust of Shakespeare.

  “Oh, it’s you, Alfred,” Bruce Wayne said with relief. “We’re in a hurry. An urgent message from police headquarters.”

  Dick Grayson touched a concealed switch inside the bald pate of Shakespeare’s bust. A door swung open in the wall of the study. In the open area thus revealed were twin poles leading into circular openings in the floor. “Mrs. Cooper noticed a car speeding into the driveway,” Alfred said. ‘Shall I tell her that you’ve arrived, sir? Or shall I suggest it was a delivery truck?”

  “Use your best judgment, Alfred,” Bruce Wayne said. He raced with Dick into the opening. In an instant they were sliding down the poles, as the wall of the study slid silently into place behind them.

  Watching them disappear, Alfred sighed. “I hope they won’t be away from home long this time. It’s becoming awkward explaining their absences to Mrs. Cooper.”

  As Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson slid down the poles they shed their outer garments. When they touched the ground below the transformation was almost complete.

  Bruce Wayne, elegantly attired sportsman, wore a gray skin-tight costume with black trunks and a wide yellow belt. He fastened a loosely flowing pale blue cloak at his throat. He concealed his features with a black mask that allowed two half-oval slits for his eyes.

  The mask also covered his head and rose in two sharp pointed projections at either side of his head-projections that resembled ears. The ears of a bat. This was a costume that struck fear into the hearts of criminals everywhere—the familiar and dreaded costume of the Batman!

  Dick Grayson had also shed his everyday clothing and attired himself in an equally striking costume. His jacket was red and came down almost to his hips, where it was fastened at the waist by a duplicate of the belt worn by Batman. Dick wore short trunks on his sturdily muscled legs. The cloak that topped this outfit was a brilliant yellow, and he donned a wide black eye mask to conceal his youthful features. On the red jacket a single letter appeared in a black circle. It was the letter R—standing for Robin, youthful companion in crime-busting of the world-famed Batman!

  Batman and Robin raced forward like a well-trained team. In the center of the huge Batcave, on a turntable, waited the most astonishing automobile ever created. They leaped into the cockpit seats, and as they did so the platform began to turn until the Batmobile faced a rocky wall of the cave.

  Robin said tensely, “Atomic batteries to power. Turbines to speed. Ready, Batman.”

  Batman nodded and turned on the ignition. There was a powerful thrumming sound as the mighty engines of the Batmobile revved up.

  Then the wall of the cave slowly folded inward to present an exit that led through the side of a hill. This entrance to the Batcave was so thoroughly and artfully camouflaged that not even the most careful and painstaking search would reveal it on the outside. Indeed, on one memorable occasion, a party of picnickers had chosen this hillside spot and spent the entire afternoon without the least inkling that they were enjoying their Sunday repast a few feet above the secrets of the Batcave!

  Out from the concealed opening in the hillside shot the Batmobile—like an arrow from a bow. It bumped over a short stretch of dirt road to a paved avenue, then turned onto the main highway. The Batmobile’s pickup from ordinary cruising speed to maximum racing potential was enough to make any onlooker blink in astonishment. No racing car in existence could have possibly accelerated so quickly.

  As the Batmobile zoomed along the highway, Robin went quickly to work beside Batman in the cockpit.

  The Boy Wonder picked up the mobile Batphone and spoke quietly into the mouthpiece. “Batmobile to Airport,” he said. “This is a Red Alert. We will be at the airport within approximately one minute and forty-two seconds. The Batcopter must be prepared for immediate takeoff. Do you read me? Over.”

  “Our men are already getting the Batcopter ready,” came the answer. “I put them on it the moment your special phone rang, Robin. Over.”

  “Good work,” Robin replied. “Over—and out.”

  At Gotham City Airport, the call on the Batphone had indeed set off a flurry of activity. Workmen linked up the Batcopter to a ground tractor. The tractor began towing the Batcopter out of the hangar. In the control tower, men also fell to work. A controller was already speaking to all aircraft in the vicinity.

  “Gotham Tower to aircraft in this control zone,” he was saying. “Enter your holding pattern. Repeat: enter your holding pattern. The Batcopter will be taking off on an urgent mission. This is a special alert.”

  Beside him, a second controller was looking off through powerful binoculars. He announced calmly: “The Batmobile has arrived. It’s crossing the field…”

  The Batmobile swung into the airport’s parking lot, made a ninety-degree turn, and kept on going. It emerged onto the airfield and swooshed to a stop beside a black helicopter with serrated rotor propeller resembling the wings of a bat.

  Batman and Robin leaped out of their Batmobile. In a few swift strides they reached the Batcopter and jumped in. One of the ground crew gave a thumbs-up signal over the clattering sound of the Batcopter’s engines.

  At the controls, Batman took a hand microphone from
the instrument panel.

  “Batman to tower,” he said. “Ready for takeoff. Request permission for straight-out departure. Bearing eight-six.”

  “Tower to Batman. Affirmative. All nearby air traffic is in a holding pattern. The sky is yours, Batman. Good luck!”

  Batman briefly waved farewell to the ground crew nearby. Moments later the Batcopter rose almost straight up, only to change direction and veer quickly away from the airport on a fast climbing course. On the field below the watching crowd dwindled to toy figures, then merged into a single dark indistinguishable mass. The airport itself fell behind.

  Elapsed time: from the moment that Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson had first entered the driveway of Wayne Manor until now, with the powerful Batcopter soaring off at full speed on a dangerous mission, was exactly six minutes!

  It had been only a few minutes longer since Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson, heading out of Gotham City for a drive in the country, had first seen the figure of a bat outlined in a circle of light flashing against the height of Gotham City Tower. It was an emergency summons from the police commissioner—his customary method of calling for Batman’s and Robin’s aid.

  When Bruce Wayne had answered the call, Commissioner Gordon’s voice had been even more harassed than usual:

  “We’ve picked up a rumor, Batman, that there’s a plot to kidnap Commander Redhead of the famous Schlepp’s Whiskey Company.”

  “He’s in England, isn’t he, Commissioner?”

  “No. He’s on a private yacht crossing the Atlantic to this country. Apparently the Schlepp’s Research Laboratory has come up with a fantastic new process. It has nothing to do with making whiskey—they discovered it accidentally during other experiments. Commander Redhead apparently intends to offer the process to the United Nations for worldwide use.”

  “That’s very generous of him.”

  “I suppose you could say that, Batman. But our information is that a gang of Supercriminals is out to seize the commander and his invention before he reaches this country! Every possible precaution must be taken to insure Commander Redhead’s safe arrival. Would it be too much to ask you and Robin to meet the yacht and escort Commander Redhead safely in here?”

  “Not at all,” Bruce Wayne had answered. “Give me the present bearing and position of the yacht.”

  “That isn’t possible, I’m afraid,” the police commissioner answered. “We only know its approximate location, Batman. The yacht is proceeding under complete radio silence. But I can tell you what we know—and I hope you’ll be able to find it.”

  Now, only ten minutes after receiving that message, the Batcopter flew over the tip of the island on which Gotham City is. located, moving across the harbor at deceptive speed. The rotor propellers seemed to be beating no faster than ordinary propellers, but the Batcopter thrust forward through the sky at a speed no other helicopter could approach. Soon they were out over the ocean.

  “This is the area in which the yacht ought to be if Commissioner Gordon’s information is correct,” Batman said. “Let’s have a Batscanner reading.”

  Robin studied the Batscanner carefully as he twisted the dials.

  “It’s probably too early to get a sighting yet. But here’s the current reading, Batman. Vector seven. Radar Batlock, heading two-one-one.”

  Batman tapped Robin on the shoulder.

  “What’s that on the right? About four o’clock?”

  Robin glanced in the direction indicated, to a spot approximately where the hour hand would be on a clock at the hour of four. On the distant horizon the white shape of an approaching yacht loomed.

  “Looks like them, Batman,” Robin whispered. “We’re in luck.”

  “We found them on the first try. That is luck,” Batman admitted. “Activate the Batlanding-computer.”

  Robin turned the key on the Batlanding-computer device. “Batdrift-angle: zero-three to starboard…”

  “Roger,” Batman answered, making the necessary correction. “I’m correcting to starboard…”

  Robin put his eye to the sight and continued to read off directions as the gap narrowed between the Batcopter and the yacht. “Altitude, three-one-seven…sink-rate, point four-nine…”

  The Batcopter closed to within viewing range of the oncoming yacht, a hundred-and-ten-foot sleek beauty that was making its way rapidly through a choppy sea.

  “I don’t see anyone on deck or in the control room,”

  Robin said. “Shall we signal her?”

  “I’d better go aboard,” Batman said. “Drop the Batladder.”

  Robin yanked on a lever. Beneath the fuselage a rope ladder snaked down. It swayed slightly in the breeze as the Batcopter slowed down to an almost motionless position above the prow of the yacht.

  “Lock computer on the forward deck,” Batman said. “Set the automatic Bathold.”

  “Bathold set,” Robin said. “That will keep the Batcopter in position. Let’s both go down and see what’s doing on Commander Redhead’s yacht.”

  “No, Robin, I’ll go first. I don’t like the fact that the yacht appears to be deserted. This could be tricky.”

  “Watch out, Batman,” Robin said reluctantly. “I wish you’d let me go with you.”

  “Have no fear, Robin. I’ll signal you to join me in a minute if everything is in order.”

  Batman slipped out of his seat and pulled open a hatch door in the floor of the Batcopter. He swung himself down through the opening and caught the first rung of the rope ladder with his foot. He began to climb down the swaying rope ladder toward the deck of the yacht.

  Halfway down, Batman realized that the full length of the ladder would not reach the deck below. He pulled a small radio from the pocket of his utility belt.

  “Robin, ease off on the power,” he commanded. “Bring the ’copter down nearer.”

  “Roger! Wilco!”

  Obediently the Batcopter descended further. On the last rung of the ladder, Batman groped for the deck below him as the Batcopter continued to descend.

  Reaching down with one foot, Batman still did not feel the deck below.

  Surprised he glanced downward.

  There was no yacht beneath him!

  There was nothing but the looming whitecaps of the choppy ocean.

  Batman shouted into the radio: “Emergency! Super-power! TAKE HER UP, ROBIN!”

  The sharp command sent Robin swiftly into action. His hand reached to the controls even as he glanced down and saw for himself that the yacht on which Batman had been preparing to land no longer existed. It had simply disappeared.

  In the blink of an eye, the entire boat had vanished. “Holy Titanic,” Robin gasped.

  Then Robin saw something else. Deadly fins cutting across the waves toward Batman.

  Robin yanked on the controls and breathed a prayer.

  Too late!

  As the Batcopter began to ascend, a giant shark reached the spot where Batman, clinging precariously to the rope ladder, was just swinging clear of the waves. In one monstrous leap the shark hurtled out of the ocean. Droplets of water ran from its sandpaper skin. Its great jaws opened.

  Desperately, Batman tried to swing up and away from the deadly grasp of the killer jaws.

  But the shark seemed to twist its body in midair—to strike directly at Batman.

  The fierce and clenching jaws found their target and closed tight!

  CHAPTER 2

  Watching from the cabin of the Batcopter, Robin had every reason to believe Batman was doomed.

  The cowled figure of the Caped Crusader was locked tightly with the huge body of the shark. The shark’s jaws seemed to have closed entirely around Batman’s body.

  The Batcopter soared steeply upward, lifting up Batman and the huge writhing monster of the deep. Batman’s fists futilely flailed at the shark’s snout—the most sensitive part of the great fish’s body. The shark hung on tenaciously.

  As the wild midair struggle went on, the rope ladder swayed back and forth dangerou
sly. The combined weight of Batman and the shark began to ravel the supports of the rope ladder. One side broke and the ladder swayed down at a perilous angle.

  Batman managed to free one hand and pull out his radio.

  “Batman to Robin,” he yelled. “Superemergency! Send down the shark-repellent Batspray!”

  In the cockpit Robin set the Bathold, and from a clip in rack he chose a spray can. As he started out the door, he realized that he could not put his weight onto the weakened Batladder without tearing it loose. He got down on his knees and edged himself over the sill. Soon he was hanging, trapeze fashion, by his knees. He was still too far from Batman’s reaching hand. He edged further over the door sill. Finally only his toes were hooked over the sill as he stretched down to where Batman was struggling with the shark on the crazily dangling rope ladder.

  He was still a foot away from Batman’s groping fingers!

  Just then the shark went into a veritable orgy of writhing contortions. Batman hung on, pummeling and choking the beast in an attempt to work himself free. It was no use. Not for an instant did the shark’s deadly grip loosen. But after a while its mad aerial dance quieted.

  Robin stretched downward, holding out the can.

  Batman reached up with his free hand. There was no point of contact.

  “Drop it,” Batman gasped. “Drop it, Robin!”

  Robin’s fingers. loosed their hold. As the can fell, Batman grabbed for it. He caught it and clutched it tightly.

  Then he turned the spray can toward the shark and depressed the ejector. A whiff of blue mist shot out.

  The shark’s mighty tail gave a great convulsive heave and the huge jaws loosened.

  Unconscious, the monster of the deep plunged head over tail toward the water below.

  When the giant fish touched the top of the ocean, there was a huge gout of water. It was quickly followed by the rending sound of a terrible explosion!

  “Holy sardine!” Robin said. “It exploded!”

  Batman looked up to the Boy Wonder suspended above him.

  “I began to suspect it, Robin,” he said calmly, “when I heard something ticking inside the shark. That’s what made it so urgent that I rid myself of the shark at once.”