Free Wayne of Gotham by Tracy Hickman Page A

Sinclair answered. “Some are bigger friends than others, and we all need a little help now and then. How about you, Moxon? You buy this place all by yourself or did your friends help you?”
    â€œYou’re barking up the wrong tree, friend,” Lew replied, a chill in the air despite the heat in the room. “I been working nights since I was twelve. This place is a hundred percent mine.”
    â€œAnd just how much did your old man pay you for those jobs when you were twelve?” Sinclair sniffed. “I mean, surely the big Julius Moxon with all that money trickling up to him from so many low places has enough to finance a swank place like this for his baby boy.”
    â€œNot cool, cat,” Moxon replied, his fists clenching and unclenching at his side. “My hands are clean, and my joint’s on the up and up. By the way, how are things working out with you and old man Rossetti? I haven’t seen Cesare’s boy around here for a while. Did you send him on a vacation?”
    Celia caught her breath, her lower lip trembling.
    Sinclair slowly started to stand, pushing Martha away from him.
    â€œMy house,” Moxon said through a smile. “You really wanna do this here?”
    â€œExcuse me,” Thomas said standing up suddenly, the metal legs of his chair squealing over the sound of the bongo drums.
    Both Sinclair’s and Lew’s heads snapped in his direction.
    Thomas held up both hands as he spoke. “I’d just like to interject something here, if I may.”
    Sinclair froze with one hand in his coat pocket. Moxon’s right hand hovered just inside the lapel of his jacket.
    â€œI’d just like to point out that we’re celebrating my graduation from Harvard Medical School which, as you probably know, is a really big deal for me … and thank you for your congratulations, but the thing is, I don’t start my internship until tomorrow morning, so I’m technically not supposed to actually use any of that medical stuff they’ve been pouring into my head for the last, oh, eight years or so. I mean, you would think it counted for something, but apparently I need some additional on the job training.”
    Moxon gave Thomas a look of bewilderment. Sinclair blinked.
    â€œSo it all comes down to this: I’ve got this really swell white dinner jacket on and, yes, I know I probably should have worn something leather or torn, but it’s what I’m stuck with for the evening. And it would be really hard to get bloodstains out of this, and I’m not supposed to save anyone’s life for a few more weeks at least. So, Lew … how about getting me a drink so we can toast my future instead of making my coat all messy?”
    Lew stared at Thomas for a moment.
    â€œPlease?” Thomas urged. “Coffee would do. I can toast myself with coffee … Do you serve coffee here?”
    A wide grin grew on Lew Moxon’s face. “Sure, Mr. Wayne, whatever you say. You’re all right in my book. If you ever need a favor, I’m your guy.”
    Sinclair sat back down, chuckling as he did. “Nice moves, Tommy!”
    â€œCall me Thomas,” he said as he fell into his own chair. Wayne reached across the table, snatching Martha’s partial martini from the table and downing it in a single gulp.
    Denholm nodded. “I think I’m beginning to like you, Thomas. What say I show you a few places I know about?”
    â€œGreat,” Thomas answered, setting down Martha’s martini glass. His hand was shaking slightly. “But first, let’s order Martha another drink.”
    Martha looked into her empty glass and started to laugh.

CHAPTER SIX
UNTOUCHED
----
    Kane Estate / Bristol / 6:22 a.m. / October 5, 1957
    Dawn was breaking as Thomas drove the Lincoln Futura across the Kane Memorial Bridge. The theater district of Gotham proper and Sheldon Point receded behind him quickly in the light traffic. The Futura