Batman 6 - The Dark Knight (26 page)

Then he heard Harvey Dent’s voice: “Hello, Jim.”

“Harvey, what the hell’s going on?”

“You’re about to know what my suffering’s really like.”

Gordon peered across the street at the Prewitt Building. “Where are you. And where’s my family?”

“Where
my
family died.”

There was a
click,
and silence.

Sergeant Mayer looked at his watch and said, “Two minutes. Time’s up. Red Team . . . go!”

“I couldn’t reach Gordon,” Lucius said into Batman’s ear. “Something must be going on as he’s not responding.”

“Dammit,” whispered Batman. “Give me sonar vision. I’ll see what I can do.”

“You got it.”

Batman’s eyes glowed white as he used his sonar to look around. Looking around and up, he saw more hostages on the floor he was on, as well as a large group gathered on the floor above, all wearing masks.

On the street, a squad of heavily armored and armed SWATs burst into the Prewitt Building.

On nearby rooftops, snipers aimed at the clowns visible through the large windows.

On the roof of the Prewitt Building, officers prepared to rappel down the wall.

A lot happened in a short time:

Batman used his grappling gun to knock three clowns to the ground, saving them from death by gunfire.

Charges set by the SWATs blasted a hole in the wall not too far from where Batman had entered the building. Batman fired his grapple gun into the lead SWATs tear gas grenade and yanked him through the wall, smashing him into two approaching thugs dressed as doctors. He then grabbed two hostages who were in the next room and jumped down to the floor below, where he quickly dispatched several thugs dressed as doctors, nurses, and patients.

He glanced up and realized that the SWAT team was in an elevator headed to the floor above where there were more hostages dressed as thugs. But before he could do anything, the SWATs that had rappelled from the roof reached his floor and advanced on Batman. With several swift kicks and distractions he beat them back and used their rappelling rope to tie them all together.

He then aimed a device from his utility belt back up at the hostages trapped on the floor above him and fired several sticky bombs around the exposed supports near the tied-up hostages. Seconds later the bombs went off, collapsing the floor and sending the SWAT team crashing down in front of him.

Quickly recovering, the SWAT team took aim at Batman, but Batman was quicker. With a swift kick, he pushed the lead SWAT member out the window, then watched as they all fell out, one after the other, the rope attaching them all hindering them further.

Batman caught sight of the Joker and the Chechen’s dogs moving swiftly above him, then fired his grappel gun up the elevator shaft in swift pursuit. He needed to end this situation as quickly as possible . . .

The captain finished counting the votes he’d collected. To push a button and kill the prisoners or trust to fate that everyone here would survive? He looked up, and said, loudly: “The tally is 196 votes against. And 340 votes for.” He looked down at the detonator in his hand. “I voted for it. Same as most of you. It doesn’t seem right that we should all die . . .”

“So do it!” someone yelled.

“I didn’t say
I’d
do it. Don’t forget—we’re all still here. Which means they haven’t killed us yet, either.”

Everyone looked at the clock on the bulkhead:
11:59.

The captain set the detonator down on a bench.

The gray-haired businessman picked it up and turned to address his fellow passengers. “No one wants to get his hands dirty. Fine. Those men on the other boat made their choices. They chose to murder and steal. It makes no sense for us to die, too.”

No one looked at him.

He stared down at the detonator. Then he placed it on the deck and sat down on the bench.

The discussion on the other ferry was also heated. The warden still had the remote, and his hands shook when a large tattooed prisoner named Ginty approached him.

He glared down at the warden. “You don’t wanna die. But you don’t know how to take a life. Give it to me.”

The warden looked at the timer, then back at Ginty, who still pleaded with him.

“These men will kill you and take it anyway. Give it to me. You can tell people I took it by force. Give it to me and I’ll do what you should have done ten minutes ago.”

The warden nodded silently and slowly handed the remote over.

Ginty walked to the nearest open porthole and threw the detonator into the bay.

Batman was certain that the hostages were safe, at least for the moment. But others, the people on the ferries—they were still in danger.

There was one place the Joker must be, where he could see all that happened and still not be caught in the chaos, and that was an office that was reached by a flight of stairs leading to a balcony. Batman was up the steps and through a door in seconds, facing the Joker.

“You came,” the Joker said “I’m touched.” He unleashed the Chechen’s rottweilers. “Sic ’im.”

The dogs leapt at Batman, hitting him hard, knocking him off his feet. He got one gauntleted arm in the jaws of the first dog and kneed the underbelly of the second, then rolled away from them.

The Joker plunged a switchblade into a crack between the sections of Batman’s armor, deep into flesh and bone. He straightened up, and as Batman got to his knees, kicked, and kicked again, and Batman lurched back toward the top of one of the huge windows. The glass cracked, and a shard fell out and dropped onto the street below, but Batman caught the window frame and shoved the Joker back into the room with both his feet.

“If we don’t stop fighting,” the Joker said, “you’re going to miss the fireworks.”

“There won’t
be
any fireworks.”

Somewhere nearby, a tower clock began to toll midnight.

Gordon and the cops heard the clock and froze, then turned toward the bay and the two ferries, and waited. There was no explosion.

Batman faced the Joker. Both men were gasping for breath, and the Joker’s makeup was smeared and streaked with sweat.

“What were you hoping to prove?” Batman asked. “That deep down we’re all as ugly as you?”

The Joker held up a detonator, and with his thumb he flicked a toggle, exposing a red button. “Can’t rely on anyone these days,” he complained. “Have to do everything myself. I always have, and it’s not always easy . . . Say, do you know how I got these scars?”

“No,” Batman said, lifting his arm and shooting scallop blades out of his gauntlet. The blades struck the Joker in the chest and arm and then Batman crossed the distance between them and wrenched the detonator from the Joker’s grasp. The Joker pivoted away from Batman, stumbled, fell toward the shattered window and, with a huge smile, went through it.

Batman leaned out the window, aimed his grappling gun, and fired. The rope wrapped around the Joker’s leg, and Batman let him hang upside down.

“You just couldn’t let me go, could you?” the Joker whined. “I guess this is what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. You are truly incorruptible, aren’t you? You won’t kill me out of some misplaced sense of righteousness . . . and I won’t kill you because you’re too much fun. We’re going to do this forever.”

“You’ll be in a padded cell
forever.”

“Maybe we can share it. They’ll have to double up, the rate this city’s inhabitants are losing their minds.”

“This city just showed you it’s full of people ready to believe in good.”

“Till their spirit breaks completely. Till they find out what I did with the best of them. Till they get a look at the
real
Harvey Dent and all the heroic things he’s done. Then the criminals will be straight back onto the streets, and Gotham will understand the
true
nature of heroism. You didn’t think I’d risk losing the battle for the soul of Gotham in a fistfight, did you? You’ve got to have an ace in the hole. Mine’s Harvey.”

Batman lifted the Joker up until their faces were only inches apart. “What did you do?”

“I took Gotham’s white knight and I brought him down to my level. It wasn’t hard. Madness is like gravity—all it takes is a little push.”

The Joker laughed, and continued laughing as Batman used plastic ties to secure him to a radiator. The SWAT team would find him in a minute or two.

Batman grabbed the upper windowsill ledge and swung himself out and up. He somersaulted onto the roof and used his radio to tell Lucius Fox to locate Harvey Dent.

Gordon didn’t know how it had all happened, or even exactly
what
had happened, just that, somehow, for some reason, about ten of his best men had been taken down, though none was hurt seriously, and that neither ferry had blown up, and that the Joker was just taken into custody. Maybe he would
never
know, and he didn’t care, not right now. He had something else to worry about, something that had formed a cold lump in his belly, and so, without waiting for anyone’s report, he ran to his car. He paused only long enough to tell Sergeant Mayer where he was going, and to ask Mayer to send some units when things had calmed down at the Prewitt Building. Then he put on his siren and sped toward Second Avenue. Maybe he should wait for backup, maybe he should bring someone, maybe he should try to contact Batman . . . Maybe maybe maybe.

Dent had said that Gordon’s wife and son were “where my family died.” Dent’s family? What did he know about Dent’s family? A second cousin in Dubuque, an aunt in Fairbanks—both alive, as far as Gordon knew, and Dent wasn’t close to either one, anyway. That meant . . . what? Where Rachel Dawes had died. It was all Gordon could think of. He turned the car around and headed for the warehouse. Minutes later, he entered the blackened wreck of a building, gun in one hand, flashlight in the other.

He called Dent’s name and waited. Nothing.

Gordon moved farther into the building, his shoes crunching on debris, his flashlight playing over gaunt, charred beams. He rounded a corner and there they were, Barbara and his son and daughter, huddled together near a jagged black hole where the floor had collapsed. Barbara was shaking her head
no,
but he didn’t understand her until he heard footsteps behind him. He started to turn, and something hit him behind his left ear. He went down, but not quite out, and felt rough hands take his gun and roll him onto his back. He looked up. Moonlight was streaming through a gap in the ceiling, illuminating Harvey Dent, who was holding a revolver, his face canted a bit so that only the right side was revealed. It was a pleasant, handsome face, and Dent spoke in his lawyer’s voice—strong, reasonable.

“This is where they brought her, Gordon. After your people handed her over. This is where they bound her. This is where she suffered. This is where she died.”

“I know. I was here, trying to save her.”

Dent moved his head a few inches, and now the charred and twisted left side was showing. He said, “But you didn’t, did you?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Yes, you could. If you’d listened to me, if you’d stood up against corruption instead of doing your deal with the devil—”

“I was trying to fight the mob.”

“You wouldn’t dare try to justify yourself if you knew what I lost. Have you ever had to talk to the person you love most, wondering if you’re about to listen to them die? You ever had to lie to that person? Tell them it’s going to be all right, when you know it’s not? Well, you’re about to find out what that feels like.
Then
you’ll be able to look me in the eyes and tell me you’re sorry!”

Dent stepped to Barbara, nudged her closer to the hole in the floor, and put his gun to her temple.

“Harvey, put the gun down. You’re not going to hurt my family.”

“No, just the person you need most. So is it your wife?” Dent aimed his weapon at the little girl, then at the boy.

“Godammit, stop pointing the gun at my family,” Gordon shouted.

“We have a winner,” Dent said. He pulled the boy away from his mother.

“No!” Barbara screamed. “Jim, stop him! Don’t let him!”

“I’m sorry, Harvey,” Gordon said. “For everything. But please, please don’t hurt him.

Batman was experiencing flashes of dizziness, and he felt sticky warmth trickling down his skin from where the Joker had stabbed him.
This
wound was not superficial. He needed help. He wondered how much blood he’d lost, how long he could continue before exhaustion and trauma would buckle his knees, would sweep a red fog over his vision. Not long, but maybe long enough.

He could hear Gordon’s voice somewhere ahead, in the charred ruins. They were near, the ones he had to rescue, all of them, the Gordons and Harvey Dent, and maybe in saving them, he could save himself.

Dent stopped, cocked his head, and listened. There was the wail of police sirens, drawing closer.

Dent looked down at Gordon. “You brought your
cops
?”

“All they know is there’s a situation. They don’t know who, or what. They’re just creating a perimeter.”

“You think I want to
escape
? There’s no escape from
this
.” He thrust a finger into his left cheek.