Not as they seem.

Getting to your car you take out the baseball card Selina gave you and look at it for a moment. Placing it back into your pocket you set your phone to handless audio and drive off to the Athenaeum.

Having google search for any reports of any stolen rare baseball cards, you quickly find out a collectible card shop was broken into two days ago in Gotham. The only card stolen was a 1914 Cracker Jack - Christy Mathewson, the exact one you have in your pocket.

Shaking your head you try to work out your now very conflicted feelings about your former date. Doing an initial search for her name reveals nothing, but since the Athenauem is close to the stadium you do not have time for further investigation.

Using your key and security code you enter the now closed museum. The security guard at the front desk doesn't challenge you, but whispers into his mic as you rush by. Getting to Director's Dent office you find Julie sitting at her desk with a terrified expression. A man in a suit leans against the front of her desk next to her with his back to you. Six policemen stand throughout the office.

“What's going on?” You demand.

The unsettling click of a 9mm being chambered next to your head freezes you as one of the cops points his gun at your temple. Raising your hands the man leaning against the desk stands and walks towards you. He is immaculate dressed in a well tailored dark green dress jacket, bowler and shoes, with dark gray pants, black dress shirt, white tie and a walking cane which he clearly uses more for effect than necessity.

“Dr. David Anderson.” He looks you over with a judgmental glare. “President of the Trustees and a Yale and Harvard man, I believe. Maybe you could provide some intellectual sport for this evening?”

“What do you want?”

“Riddle me this, doctor.” He firmly places the end of his cane against your jaw. “Why is the most worthless piece of jewelry the most expensive?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why would someone pay fifty million dollars for the Aleister Crowley necklace?” The man in green asks.

“I have no idea, it's at best worth a few hundred.”

“Oh, but it is worth millions, and that is the riddle.” Your assailant muses. “And I want to know the answer.”

“I haven't a clue.”

You feel the cane push further in against your face. “Then let's try a different riddle that you do know the answer to, shall we?” The man in green's voice is cold and threatening. “Riddle me this, how does Dr. David Anderson know about the most brilliantly conceived and perfectly executed robbery almost at the very moment it has begun?