Harleen Quinzel called Cliff for the third time, but all she heard was the same monotonous busy signal.
"Ha! Our informant's gone missing."
She spoke to herself, then turned to Dick beside her. "In movies, missing informants always turn up dead in sewers or closets, right?"
Dick Grayson immediately went on alert. "He might be in trouble."
"Or he just doesn't want to answer," Turner cut in. "Living in that kind of environment for too long changes people. Robots, too."
"Either way, the plan stays the same."
Harleen stood and brushed some nonexistent dust off her floral shirt. "We'll just have to... adjust our expectations a little. Little Red, ready?"
Poison Ivy nodded to her.
"Then let's go." Harleen grabbed a medical kit that looked like an ordinary handbag. "Remember, we're friendly visitors. Unless they make the first move."
"What if they do?" Dick asked.
"Ha!" Harleen grinned. "Then we'll see who's quicker."
When Harleen pushed open the iron gate of Caulder Manor, its metal hinges gave a piercing groan, as though it hadn't been opened in ages. The main building was a typical New England-style house, three stories tall, with white exterior walls that had yellowed and peeled in places. Heavy curtains covered several windows. Only one on the second floor lifted slightly at a corner before quickly falling shut again.
"Ah-a classic manor." Harleen surveyed the surroundings with an appreciative sigh. "Someone's watching us."
"You call this a manor?" Dick said dismissively. "It's just a house, and not a particularly big one."
He led the way, striding up the steps to the porch, but the door opened before he could knock.
"Oh!" Dick paused. The person who opened the door was an elderly man in a wheelchair. Actually, he wasn't all that old-he looked to be in