CHAPTER 29

Early mornings were no problem for Sarah Essen, especially since she had served four years in the military straight out of high school. She woke up at 5:30 A.M., rising quickly to the sound of her phone’s alarm—in her dream, she’d been sitting on the porch of her childhood home, sitting on the lap of her Uncle Ricky, and the phone’s ringing had manifested itself as Ricky’s Woody Woodpecker wind chimes. And somewhere in the dream, Jim was waiting for her…having just left his wife to come and start a new life with her.

But it was only a dream, and as soon as she awoke she knew that. There was no lasting grogginess, she was awake and looking up at the ceiling fan in her hotel room, thinking about the strangeness of that dream.

Sarah’s left hand reached over to touch her phone, switching off the alarm in an automatic gesture. Her hand then slid further across the nightstand, touching the standard-issue Glock in its holster. The ankle holster was beside her bra on the floor. She got up, strapped it on, and then clothed herself while sifting through text messages left to her during the night.

Jim hadn’t texted her at all. Sarah had to admit to herself that she was a bit disappointed about that. Why so disappointed, girl? she thought. It had frightened her to realize, upon seeing him again, that she still had feelings for him. Sarah supposed there had always been a part of her that felt Barbara had unfairly entered from out of nowhere to take Jim’s attention from her, and after she had been slowly working on him over the years. She was also surprised to find that she didn’t harbor a grudge towards Barbara. Sarah had always been a pragmatist, and for the most part as long as she wasn’t dead she considered the mistakes she and others made in life to be all a part of the Grand Design.

She put onher concealed waistline holster, and checked to make sure the Glock still had its safety on and that it was fully loaded. It was all automatic, as automatic as the responses she sent to all the text messages waiting on her, and as automatic as the simultaneous coffee-making.

Sarah texted Gary that she was awake and ready to get the day started if he was. They had to go down to Precinct 9 and see about updating their crime labs, which Gary said he’d seen and deemed woefully inadequate.

She flipped on the TV and moved around the hotel room, listening to the news updates from GCN. “More power outages continue today in Gotham’s Unified School District, the third largest public school district in the U.S.,” the anchorwoman was saying. “Mayor Walden spoke twice late yesterday and once already this morning about this crisis. Journalists and ordinary citizens were allowed to ask questions at the public forum, and, as expected, the number one question on people’s minds was what is being done about the outages, which have helped rioters and hindered law enforcement.

“Tensions are high as Gothamites become more and more desperate. Just last night two air control towers at Archie Goodwin International Airport lost power briefly, resulting in the cancellation of more than fifty scheduled flights and rerouting twelve others. Subway service on several Gotham lines were either halted because of power problems or else suspended, on orders from the Transportation Security Administration, long enough for the outage to be handled. Gotham Light and Power has been slammed because, initially, they claimed that only ten thousand customers remained without power as of last night, but Mayor Walden recently stated that GL&P’s definition of ‘customer’ referred to each building they provided power to, and that the number of people without power was possibly somewhere around five hundred thousand.

“Police, firefighters, and other human resources are being stressed to their limit, in particular in the wake of the Joker escape from Gillian Loeb Memorial Hospital. The citywide manhunt is now being put on hold until the FBI can bring in more task forces to assist, while the Department of Homeland Security will also be sending in experts to assist in the Joker hunt, and to help deal with the incredible amount of compounding problems unfolding across Gotham.

“If you’re just joining us, sources are now confirming that what has transpired in Gotham City over the last forty-eight hours has indeed been the result of a massive hacker attack, with no hacker groups taking credit for the attack, thus far. The Department of Homeland Security is now considering a state of emergency for all of Gotham. In many districts, particularly those surrounding Parkinson Avenue, riots continued to spread throughout the night, and flash mobs continue to crop up in other pockets throughout the city, burning cars and looting businesses. Several deaths have been attributed to the riots, and there have been hundreds of arrests.

“According to GCN sources, the mobs are a mixture of Molehill Mob and Dreaded Sun members, with a mixture of unaffiliated looters, most coming from impoverished neighborhoods, all reportedly moving quickly through the streets, communicating via e-mails and text messaging. This has prompted some city officials to urge that cell phone communication be discontinued in certain districts, which has only incited rage from some hacker groups, so-called hacktivists, who have said that that sort of thinking tramples on the First Amendment rights—”

Sarah just looked on in wonder at the footage that showed people protesting in front of GL&P, and then saw the intermittent footage of riots and flash mobs that were cropping up in the most random places. She thought of apes that had been trained to use a technology they didn’t really understand, and now that that technology was taken way, they revolted. For reasons most couldn’t even articulate themselves, the people had revolted.

If he’d wanted to sew disorder and rebellion as the Joker had, Edward Nygma had sure known what he was doing, and he’d done it without blowing any buildings up. So far, the Riddle Killer had taken only four people’s lives—Patrick Tralley, his wife and daughter, and then Amanda Riddle—and that was relatively few lives for having stirred up this much trouble.

As if to remind Sarah that Nygma was responsible for far more than just four victims, the anchorwoman said, “We’re now hearing that twenty-one deaths have now been officially attributed to the riots, with more than forty injured. Combined, property damage and the inability for workdays to continue as normal, has put the recovery estimate at more than two hundred million dollars to the city.”

Watching the helicopter footage of the riots made Sarah sick to her stomach. She had been brought here to prevent Gotham from falling into disorder, and just as they had been on the cusp of really doing something about it, this had happened.

She couldn’t wait to go down to the Iceberg Lounge and slap the cuffs on Cobblepot. All she was waiting on was Gary. Where is he, anyway? She texted him again. Gary’s room was only three doors down from hers.

Just as she was about to send another text out, there was a knock at her door. “Finally,” Sarah said. She stood up and went to answer.

On the TV behind her, she heard the anchorwoman say, “Um, wait a moment…to our viewers, please wait just a…yes…okay, we are now confirming that an unknown black helicopter has landed on the lawn in front of the post office on Intrepid Boulevard…and, we’re getting reports that an individual reportedly dressed as the Batman has exited now…citizens on the scene are texting GCN and Tweeting to us right now…”

Sarah opened the door. Gary stood there, looking a bit concerned.

“About time you—”

The pistol came up, aimed at her face, point blank. Sarah’s reflexes put her hands next to her gun, but she stopped herself because the gun in her face was too close. Behind it was a sickeningly familiar face. Sarah had never met him before, but it was image seared into her memory forever. The painted red lips parted to reveal the jagged yellow teeth. The man wore the getup he’d been known for, a pressed, purple suit with at corsage on his right breast. Behind him in the hallway, a woman in similar makeup tittered. She wore a pair of red, ripped blue jeans and a red jacket. On her head was a three-pointed hat, like a jester might wear, with jingling balls hanging off. The left side of her face was cut and stitched up, with two insufficient Band-Aids running across.

The Joker shoved Gary on into the room, and the jester woman followed right in behind, shutting the door behind her. “Gun,” the clown said. “Slow.”

Sarah nodded, raising her hands. “Okay…okay, just stay calm.”

“Don’t I look calm?” he said.

“WE’RE CALM!” shouted the jester woman. The woman rounded on Gary, who she flung onto the bed and mounted, aiming a Walther PPK at his head.

The Joker sighed. “I can’t speak for her, though. I think she’s a little…” He used his free hand to make a spinning “cuckoo” gesture around his head.

The other woman looked over her shoulder. “What didja say, Mr. Jay?”

“Nothin’. Love ya, can’t live without ya,” he said sweetly, never taking his eyes off of Sarah. “Now, about that gun. Take it out. Slowwwwwwly. That’s it. Now put it on the ground, an’ step away from it.”

Sarah did as bidden. She looked into those eyes, which looked intent, animalistic, like a caged tiger that had finally come bursting out and couldn’t decide if it wanted more to frolic and play or to devour everything that it saw.

“What do you want?” she asked.

The clown didn’t mince words. “I want to kill everyone who holds even a modicum of power, starting with local law enforcement,” he said. “But I also wanted a pony when I was twelve, I didn’t get that, either. So I learned to settle.” He glanced at his partner in crime, the crazy woman who was whispering something into Gary’s ear. From the bed, Gary looked at Sarah, his face saying he felt no end of sorry. “Right now, I’m settling for a front row seat to watch this city burn, and I may get up on stage and do a bit o’ improv myself!”

“This city’s not going to burn,” she said, all at once defiant. “I know you think you’ve won, but it’ll take more than this to—”

“To what, to bring this city down?” the Joker laughed. “Woman, do you know how many times the world’s almost been brought to World War Three because of a flock of geese on a radar screen? World War Two was started over an argument about telegraph poles! The result? Six-point-two million dead Jews, twenty-five million dead military personnel an’ five million prisoners of war. Poverty, famine, and nations goin’ bankrupt.” He gave a “what-can-you-do” shrug. “So, honey, in the current condition this city’s in, I’m pretty sure I can fan a fart in the general direction of the White House and get a nationwide panic started. Mark my words, in seven days’ time, I’ll have half this country pondering eating its children for sustenance, an’ the other half greatly considering it.”

The man’s words held conviction. In her time, Sarah had heard many Islamic and Christian fundamentalist extremists give all sorts of rationale for why they meant to destroy certain components of society. But never had she heard someone talk about dismembering all of society, much less for no other reason than to prove the point that it could be done. “You’re insane,” she said, admonishing herself for saying something that might push him further.

“That’s what they say about the only sane man left in an insane asylum,” he chuckled. “When you’re the only one who doesn’t think you’re Jesus or Napoleon Bonaparte, then, by comparison, ya look like the craziest one o’ the lot!” All at once, he pulled out a phone from his jacket pocket, and threw it at her. “Now, you an’ I are gonna make a good, old-fashioned prank phone call.”

“JUST LIKE WHEN WE USED TO DO AT SLEEPOVERS WHEN WE WERE IN OUR PAJAMAS!” shouted the crazy woman.

“Yep, just like that,” the Joker said, never taking his eyes off Sarah. “Call this number,” he said, handing her a slip of paper.

“I FRENCH KISSED A GIRL ONE TIME WHEN WE DID THAT!”

“I’m sure it was special for her, too, Harley,” the Joker said. He still never took his eyes off of Sarah. “Make. The. Call.” Something in his voice, combined with the desperate situation she and Gary were in, caused some kind of sickness inside of Sarah. She didn’t know what it was, but would later realize that it was the first time in her whole life that all hope had fled from her. It was an empty, helpless feeling.

The Joker was still looking at her, smirking and waiting patiently…yet, not quite so patient.

All at once, her world had tipped over, and everything had spilled. Jim was right, she thought, as the clown stepped over to her. It’s all coming apart at the seams.

“Laugh,” the Joker said, as Sarah started dialing. “And the world laughs with you.”

* * *

WHEN THE BAT Hawk landed, people cleared out fast, not knowing what to make of it. Was this the National Guard? some would be wondering. He stepped out before the propellers had stopped spinning, and before anyone could calibrate themselves to the fact that Batman was really, truly walking out in front of them in broad daylight.

The commemorative statue of Murdoch’s Intrepid Promise was twenty feet tall and made of bronze. There stood Bernard Samuel Murdoch, the kind of mayor that many Gotham City citizens still yearned for. And how many politicians had quoted Murdoch in recent years just to get elected? It seemed every politician, no matter which political affiliation they stemmed from, knew Murdoch intimately enough to claim he would roll in his grave if their rival candidate got elected.

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Batman’s cape fluttered in the wind as he approached the monument, which most people past by these days, barely noticing it or the pigeon droppings that collected on it. People who had come to the post office to do their business now froze in utter confusion as they watched the bat approach the statue. Some made to walk towards him, but stopped short, reticent.

He walked around it carefully, walking tighter and tighter circles, checking each step for traps. At the statue itself, he inspected at the cracks and crevices, paying attention to any sign of tripwires, either physical or laser. Batman spotted something at the base of the statue that caught his eye; a patch of earth that had been dug up, then put back. The earth there formed a small hump, indicating something had been buried there.

Batman knelt, pulling out his tactical knife from his right boot. He lightly pushed the blade through the soil, gently pushing and prodding, looking to disarm the landmine if one was there. He touched metal, then felt around for the edges. The object wasn’t buried deep, and it both felt and sounded hollow.

Batman activated his HUD, and then used the metal-detector and GPR (ground-penetrating radar) setting in his right gauntlet. The device could penetrate several feet, ignoring signals that bounced back from the surface, and used software designed to make buried objects shine brighter in the radar image. Other sensors helped him detect sodium bicarbonate, frequently used as a stabilizing agent in explosives. On his HUD, he saw the size and dimensions of the object—it was the shape of a lunchbox, and about as big.

The bat started digging, lightly at first, but with greater speed as he found that the object was just, in fact, a small lunchbox after all. There’s always a trap with the first clue, he thought. He laid flat on the ground looking all around the metal lunchbox. Using the tactical knife, he poked and prodded underneath the box, and found the pressure-sensitive plate he’d expected. He might’ve called the bomb squad, but he had the necessary training; and time, as always, could be short here.

So he used the knife to apply the right amount of pressure to get a shot into the ground. Batman had once learned how to disarm mines from a former Army Ranger and engineer, and used to carry an anti-landmine kit along with a bomb-disarming kit. He’d never had much use for it, so he usually didn’t carry it around anymore. Having encountered the Riddler, though, he’d started carrying it again, and was glad of it.

The small pouch was on the left side of his utility belt, and it was a small, palm-sized gun that fired two chemical agents into the ground, just like the military used: the first agent solidified the triggering mechanism and the surrounding soil, allowing all soldiers to cross the ground safely, while the second chemical agent permanently solidified both the soil and the mine, making it easier to be dig out later.

“Hey!” someone shouted over the sound of the Bat Hawk’s propellers. “Hey, are you Batman?!” He glanced over his shoulder, and saw a young man with a mohawk approaching.

“Stay back,” Batman said. “Call the police.”

The young man already had his phone in his hand, taking video of him. Now, he nodded an affirmative to Batman’s command and started dialing.

After an X-ray scan from his right gauntlet revealed the contents to him on his HUD, Batman opened the lunchbox slowly, cautiously, still uncertain that he had caught every little trap the Riddler had left.

When he finally had it open, Batman stared at the object a few seconds, and then looked all around him to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. It was just a piece of paper, not even folded. The riddle written on it said:

All right, I’m going to help you out with this one. I’m on Terrell Drive waiting for you, but you’ll have to determine which house. There are fifty of them there. I live there, above a star but I never burn. I have 11 neighbors but they never turn. My initials are p, q, r and sometimes s. Where am I?

Batman gave that some thought. A quick search on the Internet yielded no answer. Another original by the man himself, he thought. A few more seconds passed while he heard sirens approaching. Funny how they show up fast when they know I’m here. A few seconds later, he had it. Seven, he thought. The number seven on a phone keypad.

He stood up, and looked to the young man with the mohawk, who was taking pictures and video with his cell phone and smiling dumbly. “This is gonna be awesome!” he was saying.

Batman said, “Hear those sirens? That’s the good guys. Tell them a landmine is frozen underneath the ground here where I’ve dug. They need a bomb squad ASAP.”

“You got it, dude.”

Batman hustled over to the Bat Hawk, the propeller still kicking up wind and beating his cape all around him. He ducked in, and started lifting off just as two squad cars came into the parking lot, lights flashing and sirens blaring. He banked immediately, turning south. He used his left gauntlet’s keypad to text Alfred, advising him to inform Commissioner Gordon that he was headed to 7 Terrell Drive, and that he should definitely send units there.

He heard a couple of loud clanks against the side of the Bat Hawk. Are they actually firing at me from below? he thought, incredulous. Thankfully, the Bat Hawk’s armor could withstand heavy-duty NATO rounds, so he had little to fear from being shot at, but still, it underscored exactly what the GCPD thought of him.

Batman tuned the chopper’s radio to police frequencies, and listened in on the chatter. At night, the Bat Hawk could disappear easily, especially with all its stealth systems activated, but the daytime was a different story. He’d need to listen to their chatter carefully to see if (when) they spotted him, and he’d need to take serious evasive maneuvers.

* * *

IT FELT GOOD to wake up with her in his arms again. The kids weren’t around, so Jim Gordon knew that, at least for a little while, he could just lay with his wife and pretend for the next twenty or thirty minutes that the rest of the city wasn’t coming down around their ears.

His phone vibrated on the nightstand beside his head, but he didn’t leap to answer it, not this morning. Barb had stayed the night, and they had fallen asleep just talking. He didn’t know how long it had been since they had done that. Usually, she was too pooped from dealing with the kids all day, and he was exhausted from another day at the office or from various meetings he had to attend. They typically passed out with barely an “I love you” uttered between them.

The day before, after all his talks with Sarah about what his function would be once the National Guard came in, and what he ought to say to city council and their committee in order to keep his job, Gordon had sat down with his wife to talk about all this craziness, to talk about their future, if they still had one. Barbara had decided that they did, even going so far as apologizing for the ultimatum she had given him. For his part, he’d apologized for bringing her along on a dangerous ride in his career, although they both agreed that it could hardly have been avoided. Gotham City was at an interesting time in its history.

The sun was just prying the curtains open, and there were no sounds of sirens or dogs barking or any other distractions from outside. His sleep had been the sleep of the just, not a single nightmare or disorienting dream that included anything work-related.

This was nice. This was how it was supposed to be. His phone buzzed again, but he ignored it. Whatever it was, it could undoubtedly wait five more minutes.

“Mmmmmmnnnn, you gonna get that?” Barbara mumbled, her head against his chest.

“In a minute,” he said.

She blinked a few times, looked up at him, and smiled. “It could be important.”

“It could be,” he said. “But I’ve been thinking about what we talked about. I think you might be right.” Gordon looked at his wife. Barbara propped herself up on her elbow and looked at him earnestly. “At least, in part. Things are very dangerous right now, for both of us, and for our family. And I’m too controversial for this job.”

“Well…what’re you gonna do?”

“I’m going to walk into that committee today, and I’m going to tell them that they don’t have to worry about any other problems from me. I’ll tell them I did the best I could, that I’m not guilty of any of these accusations, and that I’m quitting.”

Barbara tilted her head. “Really? You’re going to quit now?”

He frowned. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“Jim…I wanted you to make a career shift for us, but not like this, not amid all these accusations. It’ll only make you look guilty.”

“I don’t care how it looks anymore, Barb. They’re running stories right now that question my relationship with Sarah, trying to create some kind of love affair that never existed. But that’s politics, and that’s about as vile and sleazy as it gets. Barb, I’m not cut out for this. I’d rather take a demotion, or maybe get a job working in the FBI. Sarah could probably put in a good word.”

His wife looked deeply concerned. “Jim, if everything you’ve said about Walden is true, then you can’t just quit now. I know, I know, I’ve been pushing and prodding you to quit, or to move to some other function in law enforcement, but…I’ve changed my mind, too. Maybe you should quit, but not right now. If you quit, who’ll take over? Who would stand up to Walden and his pals then?”

“The Batman, FBI, DHS, and National Guard, that’s who,” he said. “Gotham needs that kind of real elbow grease in its politics right now, and Sarah can probably recommend a suitable replacement for me.”

Barbara sighed heavily. “Jim, Gotham also needs someone who knows the city and its infrastructure intimately. If Walden’s corrupted, then more people in City Hall have probably been blackmailed or bribed, too. The FBI may need someone to go undercover—they probably will—and if you quit, then who will the FBI have who can penetrate at those levels of city government?”

“Barb,” he said, “there’s not much chance I could spy on anything right now. Walden has already told his people, and the people of Gotham City, that I can’t be trusted. The word’s out; Jim Gordon isn’t someone that bad guys can trust, but at the same time ordinary citizens don’t even trust me to—” He was interrupted by his phone again, this time it was ringing in a call, not buzzing about a text message. He huffed, “Hang on!” He reached over and grabbed the phone. “Yeah?” he said, sitting up and stretching out.

“JIM! DON’T LISTEN TO HIM! WHATEVER HE SAYS DON’T—!”

Gordon froze. “Sarah? Sarah! Is that you?” Beside him, Barbara raised out of bed, alarmed.

There was a long, long pause from the other end of the line, then, Gordon thought he heard breathing. “Yo,” a voice finally said. “Yo…Commish! Izzat really you? Been a long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, looooooooong time! How’s it hangin’? Stayin’ loose? Stayin’ cool? Hangin’ tough?”

The voice was familiar at once. Gordon’s first reaction to it was pure enmity, then confusion, then fear for Sarah, and then calm, all in the span of two seconds. “What do you want?” he asked.

Behind him, Barbara touched his shoulder. “Jim? Who is it?”

“Ya want her back, do exactly as I say,” the clown said.

“Jim?”

Gordon held up a silencing hand to his wife, and said, “I’m listening.”

“What you’re gonna wanna do, Commish, is go to Parkinson Avenue, at the corner where it meets Harlem Street. Take that road halfway into Little Chinatown, and park your car across the street from a Chinese restaurant called Ming’s Crossing. Good eggrolls. Come alone and unfollowed. There’ll be people nearby watching to see if you’re followed—if I get the phone call from my people that you’re being followed, I shoot Sarah Essen and her assistant Gary Carlisle in the head, m’kay?”

Gordon swallowed, his world spinning out of control. “All right,” he said, trying to keep a level head. “What do I do at Ming’s Crossing? Wait for you?”

“No. A car will be along to pick you up, and my driver will bring you to Ms. Essen. Be lookin’ for my driver. I don’t think ya can miss her.”

“All right. But listen to me. If…if you hurt her, I swear if you touch her in any way, I’ll—” The phone clicked. “Hello? Hello?!” He jammed a thumb onto the phone to switch it off. “Damn it!”

“Jim, what is it? What’s happening? Jim, talk to me!” Barbara said as he stood up and went about throwing his clothes on. His cell phone buzzed again. Thinking that it might be another warning from the clown, he picked it up, and saw that it was a text from the Batman. He read through it briefly, hoping that it pertained to Sarah, but it was indicating that he had another lead on the Riddler, that a clue had directed him to 7 Terrell Drive. He was asking for backup. Gordon couldn’t go himself, but he could at least call Chief Clay Chapman and tell him about Terrell Drive.

“Jim!” Barbara shouted at him as he was about to exit the bedroom. She stood between him and the doorway. “Look at me, and tell me what’s going on!”

“The Joker’s got Sarah,” he said.

Barbara’s eyes went wide. “Oh…my God…”

“Yes, he’s got Sarah and her assistant Gary. Now please move, Barb.”

“I guess you’re going with backup?”

“No, he said he’d kill her if he saw any sign of backup,” Gordon said. “If it was anybody else, I’d probably call their bluff and risk bringing along a surveillance team. But if the Joker’s got her, then it’s a different story. He’s probably got help from some other crazies, and he’ll kill her without blinking, and then he’ll have a sandwich.”

“And…you’re going to meet with them, is that it?”

“Yes,” he said. “I have to be down on Harlem Street and—”

“Harlem? That’s right near Park Empire! Jim, that whole place is engulfed in riots right now.”

“I don’t have much other choice, Barb! Please move!”

Barbara pushed herself away from the door. “I’m going with you, then,” she said, grabbing her pants up off the ground.

Gordon spun around. “No, you’re not!”

“The hell I’m not!”

“Barbara, he said I had to come alone and unfollowed—”

“Jim, this is the Joker and Sarah’s life! If you go alone, you’ll likely wind up a hostage yourself, or dead and without anybody knowing where you are!”

“Barbara, I can’t let you—”

“We’ll take your car, I’ll stay in the trunk. It has a latch on the inside so I can let myself out,” she said. “Keep your cell phone on you. Take the extra one you use for work and stick it in your shoe—it’s small enough, it should fit—just in case they tell you to toss your phone. I’ll follow your phone on the GPS,” she said, holding up her own phone.

“Barb—”

“Jim, Sarah and I had our differences, but I am not going to let some maniac take her hostage and then take my husband from me!” All at once, something had changed in his wife. Jim Gordon had never seen this, but he knew exactly what it was. The city, it had changed her, just like it was changing everybody else. In Gotham City, you either laid down and died, or you lost your mind and joined the rest of the crazies that were multiplying, or you fought. Barbara, it seemed, had decided to fight. “You—are—not—going—alone!” she shouted.

Barbara went into the closet, where she kept the Beretta her husband had gotten for her five years ago when he’d become concerned for their safety after a late-night robber had tried to crack open a window with her home alone with their small children. He’d taken her to the firing range over a dozen times to make sure she understood the weapon completely. “Let’s go,” she said. “You just drive, and I’ll stay quiet in the trunk, I promise. I’ll follow from blocks away, in the car, after they’ve driven off with you. There’s enough rioting going on that they can’t drive too fast, I should be able to keep up, even though I’m staying blocks away.”

This was insane. Gordon almost put his foot down right then and there, but he looked at his wife, and realized she’d never been more resolute about anything ever before, not even about him quitting back when that had seemed so important to her.

He pointed his finger at her. “Barbara,” he said. “You are the mother of my children.”

“Jim, don’t you use them to—”

“So if I tell you to run, you run. Understand me? Make me that promise. Don’t be a hero. If gunfire starts, get away, and call the police. They may just want to hand her over after making a threat. I don’t know right now…” He trailed off, and sighed. “Just promise me.”

Barbara nodded. “I promise, I’ll only follow. And I’ll call the police if things start looking bad.”

Gordon couldn’t believe they were both agreeing to do this. “So you’ll be in the trunk, and if…when they put me in another car, you jump in the driver’s seat of my car and follow us, but from far behind. Be careful on the drive, too. Rioters will be all round. Flash mobs can start up at any second. You hear me?”

“Yes, Jim,” she said. Then, all at once, she became teary-eyed and kissed him. “You be careful! You hear me, Jim Gordon? Make me that promise.”

“Just don’t make me regret this.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now, c’mon. If we’re gonna do this, we need to get started.”