The Princess of Plunder had led a team of inmates in the construction of a gigantic sculpture. For the past several weeks, during the bitter cold of Gotham's winter, they had been labouring, outside in the prison yard, on the piece.

Finally, the day came for the unveiling. At 11:00 a.m., the President of the Gotham Arts Trust, Mrs. Harriet Cooper, would evaluate their effort in front of the rest of the prisoners and the media.

At precisely eleven o’clock, Selina Kyle strode to the middle of the exercise yard. She pulled aside the curtains covering the some-forty foot high sculpture.

It was bizarre, to say the least. A hollow, transparent rubber sphere rested on a huge spoon-like piece of metal, at the bottom left of a large wooden frame. Underneath the bowl of the “spoon” was a three foot square platform. Near the “spoon’s” middle, the metal bar rested on a pivot, built into the frame, so that the “spoon” made a sixty degree angle with the ground.

On the other side of the frame, near the top of the work, hung a massive stone, held in place inside a cradle of rope. The cradle ended in a single cord, that ran up and over a pulley. The rope then was tied off against the frame, near the sphere. The stone was directly above the handle of the “spoon.” The metal bar was off-center, as there was much more of the “spoon” to the right of the fulcrum than to the left.

“That’s quite . . . interesting, Ms. Kyle,” said Mrs. Cooper. “It reminds me of something by Claes Oldenburg."

“It reminds me of something . . . else,” announced Warden Crichton as he rubbed his chin.

“My dear, what do you call it?” asked Mrs. Cooper.

“I call it . . .” Selina said as she began running toward the sculpture, “. . . Escape!”

Before anyone could react, the Feline Female Fatale climbed inside the hollow sphere through a small aperture. She then reached out of the hole and pulled the end of the rope.

The result was startling. The knot gave way and the stone plunged almost forty feet. When it hit the bottom of the handle of the "spoon," the sphere was launched into the air. At the same time, a giant spring uncoiled from the platform, giving the sphere additional lift. The caterwauling of the Catwoman could be heard as the sphere sailed high over the prison walls.

“Now I know what it looked like!” Warden Crichton exclaimed. “A catapult!”

“Oh, my,” said Aunt Harriet.

Warden Crichton barked out orders for his guards to get after the escaping Feline Felon. In his heart, however, he knew it would be futile.

The rubber sphere absorbed the impact of landing. When it stopped rolling, the escapee emerged, relatively unscathed. As soon as it stopped, the brunette henchwoman, Eenie, pulled beside it in Catwoman’s Cat-illac. Her mistress somewhat unsteadily hopped into the passenger side of the vehicle and the two women sped off.

Warden Crichton rang Commissioner Gordon’s office to inform him of the morning’s events. An extensive police search revealed nothing.

Immediately, the Commissioner contacted Batman on the Hotline. Unfortunately, the Special Escaped Arch-Criminal Batlocator in the Batcomputer revealed so many possible hiding places for Catwoman that the information was, as a practical matter, useless.

The Commissioner’s daughter, Barbara, who he knew to be Batgirl, advised her father there was little to be done until Catwoman made a move. James Gordon would not have to wait long for that to happen.

Late that very night, a solitary female figure in a black Lurex catsuit sauntered up to the main entrance of the Gotham City Museum.

“Eenie, have you neutralized the alarm?” Through a small walkie-talkie, Eenie responded in the affirmative. Catwoman exposed one of her Cat claws and inserted it into the lock. In a matter of seconds, the door was open and she was inside the main lobby.

The two guards at the security station were unaware of her presence – until they were simultaneously impaled by two darts dipped in catatonic. As they succumbed, Catwoman made her way towards the exhibit that had piqued her interest.

Shortly thereafter, she strolled out the main entrance and drove off in her Kitty Car. Several hours later, the museum guards awoke and reported the burglary.

Minutes after arriving at his office, Commissioner Gordon received a phone call. “She did what? .... She took what?” As he hung up the phone, Chief O’Hara entered his office.

The Commissioner said, “It appears that Catwoman has wasted no time in resorting to her hellacious ways.”

“Saints preserve us! No one is safe when that hellcat is on the prowl” Chief O’Hara announced. He looked at his superior questioningly. “Who you gonna call?”

Many years ago, the Commissioner would have automatically reached for the red Batphone under its clear plastic dome, but since the arrival of the female bats, the Commissioner sometimes found himself spoilt.

The less-experienced Distaff Duo was usually his third choice, especially when dealing with a one-time member of United Underworld. The Commissioner tried to balance his concern for his daughter with her desire to serve and her unquestionable talent.

Batgirl, though, had recently battled the Riddler, the Siren, Spider-Priestess and Angie Jolly, all without any assistance from the Dynamic Duo. The Commissioner decided to call upon his oldest caped crimefighting ally.

At stately Wayne Manor, Dick Grayson was consulting its extensive collection of business journals. A problem had come up at Wayne Industries and an article he had found referenced on-line seemed to be right on point. He had just located the correct edition when he heard the Batphone beeping.

“Yes, Commissioner?” he answered.

“It’s grave news, Robin. Catwoman has struck already.”

“We’ll be there shortly, Commissioner.”

The Manor’s land lines were protected with Bat-anti-eavesdropping technology. He rang his mentor and partner in crimefighting on the latter's private line at the Wayne Foundation Building.

Knowing Catwoman was once again at large, Bruce Wayne had decided to put in a rare appearance at work before she surfaced. Even he was surprised when his private phone rang so soon.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Bruce. It’s Dick. Catwoman’s done something.”

“Very well, old chum. I’ll change into my emergency Batman costume and meet you at Police Headquarters.”

A short time later, Lieutenant Mooney, having just come off the night shift, bumped into Barbara Gordon outside Bab's father’s office. “Lieutenant, you looked tired,” Barbara observed.

“I’m not surprised. After having to contend with first the Siren and then the Riddler, I’ve just now finished a twenty-two hour shift. Frankly, I’ll be surprised if I can make it home without falling asleep.” The police lieutenant was unaware of just how prophetic her statement would be.

Moments later, Batman and Robin raced up the steps of Police Headquarters, saluting Lieutenant Mooney on the way. The Dynamic Duo joined Barbara Gordon and Chief O’Hara in the Commissioner’s office.

Meanwhile, just as Diana reached her car, she was confronted by Catwoman.

“Hello, Catarina, my treacherous ex-henchkitten.”

“Catwoman!! What do you want?!”

“You.”

With that, Catwoman shot Mooney with a tranquilliser dart and watched the hapless officer collapse. “Eenie, release Shadow,” she said into her walkie-talkie.

The obliging henchkitten placed a small black cat on the hallway floor, just outside the Commissioner’s receptionist’s office. She quietly pushed the door open, just enough for the animal to squeeze through. Once it had done so, Eenie made her way to the elevator.

Inside, beyond the double doors, James Gordon was seated behind his desk, addressing Batman, Robin and Barbara. Chief O’Hara stood at the Commissioner’s side. “Last night, Catwoman broke into the Gotham City Museum and stole two ancient Egyptian items.”

“Holy Hieroglyphics, Batman! What is she planning this time?”

Scratch . . . scratch

“What was that?” Chief O’Hara asked.

“It sounded like something was scratching on the doors,” Barbara observed.

Batman opened one door. Shadow ran inside and climbed up on the Commissioner’s desk.

“Catwoman must be trying to send us a message,” Batman concluded. He poked his head beyond the door. “Ms. Patterson, did you see who dropped off this black cat?”

“Why, no, Batman,” Bonnie replied. “I - I didn’t even see a cat!”

“Thank you.” Batman closed the door and strode across the room. Carefully, he picked up the animal. He noticed that the cat’s collar contained a miniature tape recorder. He removed it and pressed ‘PLAY.’

“Happy Valentine's Day, Batman. No doubt you’re already trying to figure out my plans. Well, don’t bother. Stay out of my way this time. The life of my traitorous ex-henchkitten Catarina, alias Lieutenant Diana Mooney, depends upon it. If you think I’m bluffing, look out the window.”

Five sets of eyes looked through the window onto the street below. They witnessed Catwoman and Eenie placing the supine body of Lieutenant Mooney inside the Kitty Car, before racing off at breakneck speed.

“Aren’t you going to go after them?!” Barbara asked.

“Not this time” Batman replied. “She has too much of a lead. Besides, a high-speed car chase would needlessly endanger the lives of the law-abiding citizens of Gotham City. Our best chance to apprehend her is to examine this cat and this recording for a clue.”

Uncannily, just as he finished speaking, the recording of Catwoman’s voice resumed playing. “If you want to see your dear Lieutenant alive again, get me a complete copy of the Bastet Manuscript by ten o’clock tomorrow morning. I’ll call then. You’d better not disappoint me, Batman!”

“That malicious minx!” Batman exclaimed.

“Bastet – isn’t that an ancient Egyptian god?” Barbara inquired.

“That’s correct, Ms. Gordon,” Batman affirmed. “Bastet, also referred to as Bast, was the goddess of cats.”

“Bastet was the daughter of Isis and Osiris. Cats were regarded as her embodiment,” Robin said. One of Dick Grayson's favourite courses as an undergraduate had been Egyptology. In fact, he had even helped the Dean administer an Egyptian Flora and Fauna Project.

The former Boy Wonder continued. “Her followers revered cats to such an extent that they routinely mummified their cats after they died.”

“Commissioner, what did Catwoman steal last night?” asked the Caped Crusader.

“The museum reported two items missing: the Orb of Osiris and the Idol of Isis.”

“I didn’t know Catwoman was an expert in Egyptology,” Chief O’Hara stated.

“She isn’t, Chief, but she is an expert on anything to do with cats,” Batman replied. “We, however, do know an expert in Egyptology. It just might be worth paying him a visit.”

“Surely you don’t mean the faux Pharaoh himself?” Commissioner Gordon gasped.

“Especially since he recently resumed his criminal career by joining forces with the Clock King!” O’Hara added.

“That’s exactly who I mean, Commissioner. King Tut’s latest crimes proved he had uncovered how I deceived him into reforming by impersonating the sun god Ra. His alternate persona, Professor Mackelroy, though, will gladly assist us.

“While King Tut has committed numerous crimes, the professor is a law-abiding citizen and a highly respected academic. It’s been conclusively shown that he cannot be held accountable for Tut’s crimes.”

“You are right, of course, Batman,” the Commissioner answered. “Your nobility and forgiving nature are truly inspiring.”

“Robin, to the Batmobile! We may not have a single moment to lose!”

What neither Batman nor anyone else in the room realized, was that Shadow’s collar was not only a miniaturized tape recorder, but also a listening device. Catwoman, still driving her Kitty Car, had been eavesdropping. She had heard and recorded their entire conversation.

This information gave her an idea. She changed course and headed for Gotham State University.

Back in Commissioner Gordon’s office, Chief O’Hara had left, taking Shadow with him. “I’ll understand if you won’t be able to make our matinee at the theatre,” Barbara said to her father, giving him a knowing smile.

‘I’ll wager that shortly you’ll become Batgirl again, like you must have done so many times before,’ James Gordon thought, ‘however, I’ve learned not to do anything to jeopardise your secret identity. So, for now, I’ll act like a guilty father, just in case Bonnie can hear me.’

“I’ll make it up to you later,” he called out as Barbara left his office in a hurry.

Within minutes. Barbara had done what her father suspected and transformed into her awe-inspiring alter-ego. She then returned to the scene of her good friend’s abduction.

Batgirl spotted a small bottle that had rolled underneath Diana’s car. It was a bottle of Wild Tigress perfume. ‘This is one of Catwoman’s brands,’ Batgirl thought. ‘If I can trace where it was purchased -- or, more likely, stolen -- I might be able to find her lair.’ The bottle had a barcode on the bottom, so Batgirl returned to her apartment to run the code through Barbara’s computer database.

Catwoman easily avoided security at Gotham State University, as well as the Professor’s graduate assistant. The Feline Felon made her way into Professor Mackelroy’s office. She locked the door behind her and strolled into view in front of the professor, who was devouring some academic journal, as well as a turkey sandwich.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” he said, finishing his last paragraph while dabbing some mayonnaise off his chin with a serviette. He then placed a bookmark in the journal and finally looked up.

“Catwoman!” he exclaimed. “Wha – What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come for your help, King Tut,” she said.

“I am Professor William Omaha Mackelroy. I hope I never, ever resume my criminal alter-ego again and I don’t help criminals. Good day.”

The pudgy Professor returned to his journal, snubbing the self-professed Queen of Criminals.

Catwoman smirked to herself. In prison, she had heard stories about how the Professor’s transformation was triggered.

Catwoman picked up a large tome from the desk and whacked the Professor squarely over the head. He slumped, unconscious, in his chair.

“If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a man who doesn’t know how to treat a lady.”

She grabbed the remains of the turkey sandwich and waved them under the man’s nose until he awoke with a cough.

“Catwoman!! To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” King Tut re-appropriated the sandwich as he added, "Mmmm . . . turkey! My favourite!"

“Men," Catwoman sighed. "I’ve come to do you a favour,” she replied. She played for him the recording she had made earlier. The rotund ruler made short work of the rest of the sandwich as he listened.

As soon as the recorded voice of Batman said, “. . . by impersonating the sun god Ra,” King Tut burst out of his chair.

“I knew it!” Tut bellowed, “and now I have confirmation from the Bat-Boob himself!”

“But that’s not the favour.” Rather than rewinding the tape, Catwoman explained, “The favour is that, right now, the Dynamic Duo are on their way to see you, but they still think you are . . .”

“Professor William – Omaha – Mackelroy. Which means they will be ill-prepared for the criminal genius of Tut!” The villain pointed his right index finger at the heavens as he proclaimed his own name.

“Precisely,” Catwoman agreed.

“What do you get out of this?” the Rotund Ruler asked suspiciously.

“Your help in finding Bastet’s Belt, plus in getting the Dynamic Dumb-Dumbs, as I’ve heard you call them, out of the way, once and for all.”

“Are you sure?” King Tut inquired. “It’s well known you’ve had a,” he shook his head from side to side, “thing for Batman for some time.”

Catwoman took a deep breath and rose to her full, impressive, high-heeled height. “That’s all in the past. He’s made his choice and I’ve made mine.”

“Fair enough. We can sort out the details later, for my guests will be here soon.” Tut extended his hand and the two arch-criminals sealed the deal with a handshake. Catwoman then left the room, while he prepared for the arrival of Batman and Robin.

The Return of Tut

Moments later, the Dynamic Duo entered the Egyptology Department at Gotham State University and asked to see Professor Mackelroy. His graduate assistant, Alexandria, admitted them and soon they were once again in the presence of what Batman and Robin thought was their former adversary.

“Welcome, Batman and Robin. What can I do for you?”

“Catwoman has stolen some Egyptian artefacts, the Orb of Osiris and the Idol of Isis. Now she is looking for something called the Bastet Manuscript,” Batman stated. “Do you have any idea why she would be interested in those items?”

“The Bastet Manuscript, you say? Legend has it that when those three artefacts are possessed by the same person, it will reveal to them the location of Bastet’s Belt. The belt is rumoured to be made out of solid gold and adorned with the purest emeralds of antiquity.”

“Holy Gold Fever!” Robin exclaimed. “No wonder she wants the Bastet Manuscript! That belt must be priceless!”

“That it is, but I suspect she covets it for another reason. Bastet’s Belt is supposed to grant the wearer the ability to communicate with cats.”

“Why, that’s impossible!” Robin said.

“You’ve met a man who lived at fifty degrees below zero and a woman who controls men by singing a single note. If I were you, I wouldn’t be too quick to call something impossible.”

“Do you know where we can find the Bastet Manuscript?” Batman inquired.

“Actually, I am currently in the process of translating its contents. It is over there, on the shelf.”

As Batman and Robin moved towards the book, a heavy net fell from the ceiling, entangling the costumed crimefighters!

“Did you really think you could get away with deceiving me?!” the angry monarch shouted. As he spoke, Catwoman emerged and played the recording she had made earlier.

“Holy Hidden Microphones, Batman! Catwoman must have transformed the professor and hidden a bug in the cat’s collar that contained a tape recorder!”

“Clever little birdie,” Catwoman teased, “not that your observation will do you any good now. Batman, I’m surprised you would lower yourself to such a deception.

“Your Majesty,” she said, addressing King Tut, “what is the penalty for impersonating a deity?”

“Sacrificial death,” he announced ominously.

“Well, it seems like you boys have some issues to work through. I need to be going. I left a clue for Batgirl at the site of Lieutenant Mooney’s cat-napping. I have to get back and make the proper arrangements . . . so Batgirl and I can have a little girrrl talk.

“Oh, Your Majesty. I’ll take the Bastet Manuscript,” Catwoman said.

“I don’t have it,” Tut replied. “I merely deceived the Dynamic Dim-Bulbs so I could spring my trap.” Catwoman scowled, but her expression softened as he continued, “ . . . but I’m sure I can locate a copy.”

A wicked grin appeared on the Feline Fiend’s face. “Oh, well, I guess I won’t need your help after all, Batman . . . although that doesn’t bode well for Catarina.”

“You hateful hussy!” Batman yelled. “If any harm comes to Batgirl or Lieutenant Mooney, I’ll make sure you pay dearly!”

“Your Majesty,” Catwoman responded, “are you going to let him talk to a lady like that?”

The rotund ruler extracted a yellowish powder from his robes and sprinkled it over the Dynamic Duo. As soon as they inhaled the powder, they were rendered unconscious.

“You realize, of course,” Tut said, “that finding the location of Bastet’s Belt will be the easy part. My ancient ancestors will have taken steps to keep those treasures from being, as you would say, purloined.”

“I suspected as much. That’s why I’ve enlisted the help of Gotham City’s foremost Egyptologist.”

Tut rose to his full height. “Madam, you have made a deal with the world’s foremost Egyptologist!”

He composed himself and went on, “Normally, I prefer to work alone, but in this case, I’ll make an exception. Also, Bastet’s Belt will be just one of many priceless treasures that those artefacts will reveal. Even divided between the two of us, we will be rich beyond our wildest dreams. First, though, I will need some time to assemble my minions and dispose of–” he indicated Batman and Robin with a wave of his right hand, “these two.”

“Purrfect” she purred, “and when I’m finished with Batgirl, we will have eliminated three-fifths of Gotham’s Bats. Should the Distaff Duo prove foolish enough to interfere, we can then rid Gotham City of its entire Bat-problem, purr-manently.”

“Very well. We'll rendevous back here in two days time,” the malevolent monarch stated.

As Batman and Robin returned to consciousness, they immediately became aware they were restrained. Lying adjacent to each other on a sandy surface, they each were bound, spread-eagled, among four wooden stakes driven into the ground. The ropes which bound them had been covered in some type of sticky substance.

“I can’t find any slack to work with in these ropes!” Robin said.

“Nor can I, Robin,” replied the Caped Crusader, “and I can’t get these stakes to budge an inch.”

“That’s because they have been driven six feet into the sand,” King Tut revealed as he approached his colourful captives.

“Professor Mackelroy,” Batman said, “release us and I will personally see to it you get all the help you need to resume your life as a law-abiding citizen!”

“SILENCE, you blasphemous bat! I am Tut – reigning king of the upper and lower Nile, the successor of Menes, the reincarnation of the great Tutankhamen!

“You have both been found guilty of high heresy. In ancient Egypt, people who committed this crime were bound as you are in the middle of the desert, with no hope of escape and left to face the wrath of the Gods.

“Of course, there are no deserts in Gotham City, but, several months ago, I discovered an arid, sandy plot of unused land owned by Gotham State University. The Vice Chancellor approved my request to construct a simulated Egyptian environment, so we could introduce Egyptian flora and fauna to study in the wild.

“So far, we have received a number of species of cacti and assorted desert plants and insects, plus snakes, spiders and scorpions. Don’t worry, they’ve all been sterilized so they can’t reproduce and threaten the local eco-system, but the venom of each of those last three creatures is still fatal. Any one of them might prove to be your executioner, however, you could also die of thirst under the baking sun.”

“Baking sun?!” Robin questioned. “Holy Global Warming! It’s February!”

“Ah, well,” Tut explained, “my new Tutlings appropriated these parabolic halogen heaters, arrayed around you, from the Greater Gotham Sporting Links Confederation.”

Batman and Robin strained to look around at the oval alignment of large heaters about them. Out of their view, a heavy-duty power line ran from a nearby maintenance shed.

“One of them warms an entire room quite nicely. This many recently brought summer-like temperatures to an outdoor volleyball stadium. At close range, they will simulate Ra at his mightiest in the Egyptian desert! The heat will also revive and attract the aforementioned snakes, spiders and scorpions.”

“What is this sticky substance on the ropes?” Batman asked.

“Ah, that’s used to treat mummy wrappings. As it dries in the heat, it will shrink the ropes binding your wrists and ankles to the stakes. It will prove quite painful, as it not only restricts your circulation, but stretches you out. Oh, I have removed your girdles, just in case you could somehow activate them, so you won’t be able to use any of your toys to get free.

“While the cause of your deaths has yet to be determined, once you perish, I trust it won’t take long for your remains to be found by some of my former students.”

King Tut gave his captives a little wave, before pushing a heater back in place. “I must leave you now, for there is a lot of work to be done before I re-establish my rule over Gotham City!”

Back to the Batgirl Bat-Trap Homepage!