2014.01.24 - Restless Gordon

The afternoon after the morning after the night before. Babs has somehow managed to actually keep her best friend corralled in the apartment since the woman passed out in the Clocktower roost the night before. It's meant transferring a lot of her work to the living room, rather than the Birds' Nest, but that's not really a big deal. DELPHI's monitoring faithfully, and the innocuous Starktech glasses Babs has been 'testing' for Tony still allow her full access to her network. In the meantime, it looks like she's actually attending to CTS client work, for a change, given the invoices she's sorting on her laptop. Thus, she sits on the couch, a fresh cup of steaming coffee beside her, fingers running lightly over her keyboard as she makes notes and occasionally lifts a hand to thumb the mouse and send out a bill. 
Don't let this apparent concentration fool you, however. She's totally got an ear out for signs of movement from Dinah... and whatever else may come.
Friendship is something that Dinah tried not to take for granted, and even at her worst, even with all the overwhelming doubt she'd experienced in the last week, she knew that she had allies in spades. Barbara, however, was particularly special. This wasn't the first time, or even the sixth time that Babs had potentially saved Dinah from herself, or some other threat. While this frequently happened over a communicator-earpiece, it was indeed rare to spend some quality time with her. She mused over the dark humor that it would take this--someone utilizing one of Scarecrow's toxins on her, sending Dinah over a emotional cliff, and barely sleeping for nearly a week--to get the ever-busy duo to actually hang out for an extended period. Even, still, with the need to relax, Dinah found herself lapsing into business talk again and again, until she needed to yet another nap. She updated Barbara on virtually everything that crossed her mind, from the financially debacle with The Sherwood Florst's mortgage, to her tracking the Maggia operations in Gotham, to the growing distance with her and Arrow, and so on. At the moment, she sat on a lovely couch, sipped yet another cup of tea, and rubbed her forehead, enjoying the calm while Barbara typed away on the computer.
There's an American Standard in Law Enforcement. When a cop discharges his firearm in the line of duty, they are put on paid leave of absence and given a psychiatric evaluation. This is true even in Gotham City, and in spite of Commissioner Gordon's attempts to go back to work, the City Manager simply wouldn't allow it.
"Dammit, Gordon. No cop's above the rules, not even you. You take your leave, you do the psychiatric evaluation, you play by the same damn rules as everyone else. Got it?"
Jim Gordon 'got it'. He especially 'got it' during the psychiatric evaluation. Not only had he discharged his firearm in the line of duty, he'd also made a weapon out of a pen, landing a poor chump in the hospital with a vicious ocular injury.
He and the department's therapist had exchanged words about his actions. They weren't exactly friendly.
Stubbing out a cigarette on the curb outside, Jim casually tosses the burnt out filter into a trash bin before approaching the Clocktower. Moments later, the buzzer in Barbara's apartment goes off, and Jim's voice can be heard. "Hey Babs, it's dad. You home?"
The buzzer sounds and her father's voice filters through the intercom. Babs looks up, glances at her friend, and smiles. "Guess we get company, today." Probably a good thing most of her closest vigilante friends leave a modest change of clothes at the tower... just in case. 
She taps her tablet, set near to hand beside her, and calls out to the intercom. "Hi, Dad! Yeah, c'mon up." With that, DELPHI releases the security protocols that allow the Commissioner to enter the building without being delayed by impediments that would stop anyone but her trusted inner circle.
She sets her laptop aside, now, pushing the slanted tray she's been using to set it on to one side. Then, she pushes herself to her feet and moves toward the kitchen to pour a second cup of that coffee she made only a few moments ago. 
Dinah was surprised to hear the bell, though she should've been... Barbara hadn't mentioned guests, but it was well known how adept she was at multi-tasking. For a split-second, she wondered if it'd be better to make herself scarce, but her friend's calm convinced her that her presence was acceptable. It wasn't every day that someone got to hang out with Jim Gordon, and, according to his all-business reputation, she suspected Jim didn't do "social" very well. She looked herself over--her change of clothes were pretty mundane, a loose, grey blouse and an old pair of slacks. She asked Barbara if she could have some more tea.
"Alright!" comes Gordon's voice through the intercom.
A minute or so later, Jim enters the apartment. "I smell coffee," he calls out, while retrieving the hat from his head and pulling his arms free from a lengthy, black, and altogether cliche trench coat. There's a certain hunger for warmth and caffeine in his voice, a tone Barbara ought to know very well.
As soon as Barbara comes into view, he walks over toward her and gives her a big hug. Leave was almost as stressful as work. He didn't enjoy leave one bit. What he does enjoy, however, is seeing Barbara on her own two legs again.
Well, legs sort of on loan from Stark Enterprises, but legs nonetheless. He seems somewhat distracted. So much so that he hasn't yet noticed that Barbara has company.
Babs turns the copper kettle on the burner, perpetually set on low to keep the water warm, up high enough to start it boiling again for Dinah's tea, while she preps her father's coffee. Certainly, she wasn't expecting the old man to show up, today. Especially midway through the day. That rarely happens. But, she knows police procedures, knows the administrative leave enforced because of firearms discharge. It's hardly the first time her father's been through this -- and he's always grumpy about it. Or distracted. Or both. Usually both.
It's no different than how they all get when they can't be out there, doing their part to keep the city safe. 
Nevertheless, Babs isn't about to panic about her father's arrival. It doesn't occur to her to worry about what he may think about her relationship with Dinah. Dinah's her best friend and has been for quite some time. That she's never said, "Well, yes, Dinah does happen to also be the Black Canary" to her father isn't so much of a surprise. After all, who does that? He'll just have to cope with the revelation. 
And, don't for one minute think that these legs are on 'loan'. Babs has no intention of giving them back. They're hers, damn it!
She crosses to the door, as it opens, and gives her father a hug. "You do smell coffee," she confirms. "I swear you have radar. I just finished brewing a fresh pot." Giving him a kiss on the cheek, she pulls away and retreats back into the kitchen to pour water from the whistling kettle into a pot for Dinah and to collect the coffee she's prepared for Jim. 
Finally, she returns to the living room. "Here you go, Dad," she says, handing him his cup. "Have you met Dinah?" she asks, trying to make the introduction as seamless as she can. "Seems to be my day for visitors. Dinah, this is my father, Commissioner Jim Gordon. Dad, this Dinah. She runs the Sherwood Florist." Which is where and how they met. Honest.
(Ahem.)
She then brings Dinah the pot, along with a cozy to set it upon, placing it on the side table beside her mug.
Dinah watched Jim's movements from her perch--she thought of it as a mix of automatic behavior and a man lost in his thoughts. Still unnoticed by him, and wanting to show some social grace, she pulled the thin blanket off her legs, and stood up from the couch, taking a few steps closer to the father-daughter exchange. When Barbara makes the introduction, Dinah is already standing right beside them.
"Actually, we just met last week," Dinah said, her face wearing a comfortable, warm smile despite her paleness, showing mild signs of being something like 'ill'. "Seems like the entire department showed up to see me pull Reginald Whitney out of his.. house," she commented, her face looking serious for only so long as it took to mouth those words. She didn't want to be seen as the superhero-powerhouse she probably was, at least not now, in what felt like a more 'normal' father-daughter time. "Is this a private visit... should I go?" she asked Jim, showing a respectful humbleness.
Even though he's off duty, Gotham's Commissioner is dressed as if he weren't. Gray slacks and a plain, white collared shirt make up his attire, along with a dark green tie, which all serves to match his black trench coat in a uniquely 'cop' way. Had he decided on the brown trench, it might have been a bit too 'film noir' for this cold day. Removing the trench even reveals a shoulder holster bearing his standard issue sidearm, and he takes great care not to let it get in the way of that warm and fatherly hug.
"It's called 'copdar'," he gently corrects Barbara, keeping a straight face for as long as he can. "We can sense good coffee and warm donuts in a two mile radius. Bad coffee and stale donuts we can smell for a whole five mile radius, so we know which spots to avoid. Or watch." At this point he can't help but grin. "Brewing bad coffee is a misdemeanor in twelve states. Unfortunately not in Jersey. Yet."
Now, seeing Barbara has certainly helped with the grumpy factor. Otherwise, he might not have been the most pleasant company. The distracted factor though, that is only being partially nicked by the smell of good coffee.
Which is exactly why when the introductions are first made, Jim is giving Dinah that sort of 'Oh, it's nice to meet another of Barbara's friends whom I've never met before' look. Polite, friendly, not completely there.
Then, his eyes change. Recognition sets in, and a moment later, curiosity. The sort of intense, quiet curiosity that is so often and rightly associated with the fuzz. "We did."
Even so, a grin forms beneath Gordon's mustache when Dinah reminds him of just how, in fact, they met. "That was quite a show, Dinah. I think half my force was jealous it wasn't them, the other half grumping about losing bets."
Most of that curious eye has drifted away by the time he's done with the remark, but there's still a small shred of it there. Subdued, filed away, but definitely seeking some kind of confirming answer. "So, you two... know... each other?" He lifts an eyebrow Barbara's way, before turning back to offer Dinah his hand. "Just call me Jim."
"Remember Jenny Leeds from when I worked at the library?" Babs asks her father lightly, noting his change in demeanor -- and that he's still partially distracted for all that. "Dinah was the florist for her wedding. We met then." It sounds plausible, right? And, to be fair, Jenny Leeds wedding was right about that time.
She glances questioningly at her father, as she says to Dinah, "I don't think you need to go." A beat. "Unless there's something wrong, Dad?" Because, yeah. That distracted bit is a little obvious to the young woman who knows him so well.
Dinah's mind was fumbling a way to ease Jim's curious--the kind that most detectives would have, when something unexpected rolls their way. Thankfully, she didn't need to cook up any dispelling words on the fly, because Barbara had already thought about a moment like this and was ready. Relieved with that, and seeing that Jim didn't make any comment about this being a 'private' meeting, she scoops up her tea and sits on one of the chairs in the living room, facing the two. She waited to see what the visit was about.
While they talked, she recognized the rareness of an opportunity to catch the ear of the Gotham police commissioner, and wondered idly just how much Jim Gordon actually knew about her, and her activities with the JLA, and if this meeting could be 'helpful' for him somehow. In other words, Dinah's mind still kept reverting to its default: business. But this time she caught the idle train of thought--the jump--and considered how funny it was that just days ago--under the non-consensual influence of what appeared to be Scarecrow's drugs--she had considered quitting the hero gig. The humor almost revealed itself on her expression: this was who she was. How would it even be possible to quit?
"Jenny Leeds." Echoing the girl's name draws a bit of distant recognition. "That's going back." He can't recall if he'd even been to that wedding, much less ever seen the photographs. A stretch, perhaps, but in his distracted state, Jim's easily tricked.
He also stammers a bit when Barbara seems hesitant on whether or not to dismiss her friend. "Oh, no! No, that's quite alright." He turns to Dinah, saying, "You don't need to go at all." Reaching out he accepts the coffee from Barbara, letting it warm his hands for a few moments. "Just a social visit." He glances back toward Barbara with a smirk. "She's taught me how to text, but I don't always call or text before I stop by." Looking back toward Dinah he adds, "I'm a bit old fashioned."
Similarly, he finds a spot to perch at nearby. However, feeling restless as he is, he doesn't sit, rather adopting to lean against the nearest surface. "Really, I should apologize for dropping in like this, out of nowhere. The department has me on a leave of absence." He pauses, admission coming to his face. "I'm feeling... a little bored."
Finally he lifts the mug of coffee to take a drink, and his expression immediately brightens. He looks Barbara's way and asks, "Columbian blend?"
"Just for you," Babs answers her father's question about the coffee with a smile. She settles back in her place on the couch now, technology near to hand -- what would she do without it? -- and takes a sip of her own coffee. "Actually, I've got a puzzle for you, Dad. Kid came in to CTS, a while back, looking for a job. From what I can tell, she's a crackerjack when it comes to all things digital. But, every record I've tried to pull for her comes back corrupted somehow. She goes by the name Jane Roe. I doubt it's her real name, but finding out any more about her has been... problematic." 
Realistically, she never passes on Oracle cases to her father like this. (Or in any other way.) But, given she knows there are no records of the girl to be found -- even the missing persons report in the GCPD DB has disintegrated as if it were never there -- maybe the gumshoe can find something the technophile can't.
Dinah thought that in Jim Gordon's current state, he seemed almost like a caged animal (she then smiled at the thought of 'caged birds'). After listening to Barbara mention the Jane Roe case, she waits for Jim's reply. After a moment, she chirps up. 
"It's a bad time to bench you," Dinah commented, trying to voice empathy while probably unwittingly fanning Jim's anxiety. "Maggia families are stockpiling their men in South Gotham, and that's never a good sign," she started to say, but stopped herself from saying more, remembering that just a few nights ago an office building there was gunned down. Had Helena and Kate been diligent enough to remove evidence? Surely there were at least a few loose Bat-trinkets left forgotten on the crime scene. She decides to deflect the potential of questions on this subject might by throwing a little misdirection, a bait that might shift his attention: "I'm not saying that the police aren't doing their job, of course."
------
"Jim, I'll be frank with you. This business with the pen... I know you put that bat sign on the roof--"
"Bat Signal.--"
"--and that's... a questionable situation in and of itself--"
"Authorized by the last City Council and codified on the city charter."
"--but if I'm to be completely honest with you, and here's my concern... you're starting to act like one of these vigilantes yourself. Not a Gotham Police Officer."
-----
Ironically enough, Barbara's puzzle presents Jim with a much needed distraction from that which was distracting him the most -- the conversation he'd had with Gotham's Police Psychiatrist earlier that morning. Doctor Henry's words were ringing in the back of his mind until she presented him with this particularly unique problem, and it draws a sudden focus along with the lifting of his eyebrows. His body language even suggests the interest as he leans in Barbara's general direction.
His eyebrows shoot up even higher when Barbara uses the word, 'problematic'.
"Hmmm." He sips at his coffee, contemplating it for a moment. "Could be nothing." But detectives are trained to look for every worst case scenario. There's clearly a number of ideas coming to the Commissioner's mind, but he refrains from voicing them just yet. "If it is something to be concerned about, you might consider filing an official report for starters."
However, Dinah brings up an entirely different subject altogether. Her first remark draws an agreeable scowl. "Yeah, well, rules are rules for a reason. Cop discharges his weapon, it can change a man. You don't want a nervous cop out there with a shaky finger on a deadly weapon. The wrong person might get hurt."
And yet, there's more concern being addressed by Dinah. Gordon looks between Dinah and Barbara, finding his brows knit in concern. "You two don't think these two matters are related, do you?"
The Commissioner doesn't even acknowledge Dinah's misdirection. Seems he trusts that anyone who is friends with his daughter would have a natural respect for law enforcement.
Babs shakes her head lightly. "I doubt it," she says. "Not unless the Maggias are trying to get to you through me." A beat. "Okay. That's a possibility. But, in this case? Roe doesn't strike me as the mafia type. More... a bit of a grifter, a streetkid with some 'mad skillz' and no desire for a background check." 
She purses her lips, glancing between both her father and her friend. "I'm no shrink," she says, more for her father's benefit, since Dinah knows just how good she is as putting profiles together, "but Roe's not much of a team player, from what I can tell." A smile. "Hence the reason she doesn't have a job." Meaning Babs isn't hiring her. "Few really good hackers are, though. The thing is, I'm not sure filing a report will help. And, I'm not sure I want to take it to that level. All I know for sure is that if I hadn't met her in person, myself, and seen the initial records she presented, I'd have nothing to go on at all. All the records I put in my files have evaporated. Only my memory remains." Her eidetic memory.
She considers what Dinah's told her father, however. And refrains from noting that setting her father on the trail of the Maggias when he's on leave probably isn't a smart idea. A missing person is a far cry from the mob. 
"Too, the Maggias -- unless I'm mistaken, Dad? -- aren't much given to cybercrimes. They're still pretty old fashioned, when it comes to their choice of offenses."
Dinah's mind whirred with Jim's question--not so much for the Roe case, but the reminder to look for connections that were less obvious. She herself was being being targeted--or at least threatened, and there were still a heck of a lot of unknowns. Her eyes showed meditation, but Dinah had grown afraid of saying too much--she probably already had. Gordon himself was probably already familiar with at least the names and histories of some of the Maggia players. And then it reminded her of just how brutal the organization could be: And how she was pointing Jim right at them. Sensing this, she tried to add to Barbara's concern over the hacker.
"If I were going to hide," she began, "--really hide--I'd probably have more than one layer. Decoy cover stories. Especially in today's age," said said, waving her hand emptily in Barbara's computer's general direction. While that thing had undoubtedly saved Dinah in the past, she still felt partly detached from the modern digital era, not so unlike Jim.
"Could be she's trying to spray some digital graffiti," agrees Jim. "Or it could be a feint. CTS holds quite a few big contracts. It's hard to say just what a talented hacker might pull up. Could pose a significant threat to the city, even national security. Depending on how deep these corrupted files go? You could see involvement by the FBI, Homeland, even SHIELD."
"If you go the official route." After all, there are no shortage of Private Dicks around Gotham, not to mention Bats. There's a meaningful look given to Barbara. She knew of his support for the Batman.
"Old fashioned doesn't mean unable to adapt," he suggests. "Look at me. I've got e-mail, text, I even know how to do a taghash search on Twitter." Beat. "And I've finally accepted that Dylan post-acoustic isn't all that bad." Now, if only he could exchange 'taghash' for 'hashtag'...
"Jane Roe. Sounds more like Jane Doe." A simple observation.
Its also worth noting that Jim hasn't acknowledged or denied what he will or won't do with this information. Truthfully, he hasn't yet decided.
Sip, sip. "Damn good cup of coffee, Babs."
"That's just it," Babs says to Dinah. "There is no digital graffiti, no decoy records, nothing. Complete nothing. It's like she doesn't exist at all, except in the flesh." She takes a sip of her coffee and leans back. "I'll jot some notes," she tells her father now. "You can look at them while you're waiting for the shrink to clear you." Knowing Jim, he'll probably pass them on to the Bat, as well. She should probably speak to him, anyway. 
She smiles, however, at his assessment of the coffee. "Glad you like it." 
Barbara's assessment only serves to shed more color on the similarity the Commissioner drew between 'Roe' and 'Doe'. If this hacker is that good, then it will take something unique to draw her out. And perhaps a little Batman-style coercion to determine a goal.
"Keep me in the loop on this." Buried behind the dutiful tone is an unspoken plea to help sate his boredom. Then he looks back toward Dinah, saying, "And be careful around those Maggia types." He makes a silent note to research, again, the jurisdiction and legal powers of the JLA.
"Now, the real reason for my visit." He rises, crossing the room and retrieving a Blu-Ray package from his trench coat. "Prisoners." He waggles it in a tempting way. "Pizza delivery on me?"
Category:Log