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arms tried to tackle him from down below.
The former gunman tried to circle behind him and grab for his neck. He gave the
gunman an elbow in the stomach, then kicked out forward to catch the guide's chin. He
turned just in time to avoid a roundhouse right from the gunman, and landed a right and left
of his own. The gunman staggered back, banging a gleaming metal machine.
But the guide had managed to get back up on his feet. He roared as he came for Bruce,
as if his voice were somehow going to give him strength. Bruce tried to sidestep his
charge, but the guide shifted his direction, too, while both his fists flailed wildly in Bruce's
direction, too, while both his fists flailed wildly in Bruce's direction, too, while both his
fists flailed wildly in Bruce's direction. This kind of attack couldn't do Bruce much harm,
but it certainly kept him busy. Where was the other man?
Bruce decided he didn't have time to wonder. He felled the guide with a single
well-placed punch to the jaw, then spun around, ready for the attack. It didn't come. The
other man was already on the far side of the room, running the other way.
The second one was going to get away. Bruce wished he had access to Batman's utility
belt; he would have had half a dozen ways to stop the other man without any problem.
Sometimes leading this double life could be nothing but problems.
He ran across the room, but he knew by the time he reached the doorway, and saw the
long white hall full of windows and doors, that he had lost his quarry. Well, he had one
for a keepsake. That would have to do. It was so quiet down here by the docks at this
time of night, no one should see him load a limp body into the passenger seat of his
Porsche.
The Reverend Droll knew he had pushed The Joker too far. But what else could he have
done?
First off, The Joker was crazy. Brilliantly crazy, but crazy nonetheless. Why else
would he build up such a fantastic criminal organization, and then spend the rest of his time
trying to find ways to jeopardize it?
He had to take steps to protect himself. Droll would no longer cooperate with all of The
Joker's schemes. He'd already told his followers that they should no longer automatically
obey the orders of The Joker's men.
Still, he could not force out the man who had created the church in the first place. And
The Joker was a powerful man. It would not do to anger him unnecessarily.
Unless he decided to take measures even crazier than those of The Joker. Perhaps it was
time to remove The Joker first, before The Joker had any thoughts of removing Droll. And
by setting him up as the head of the church, The Joker had unwittingly given Droll the
perfect weapon to destroy his employer.
But he had to protect himself first. It was time to go to the authorities and give them just
enough information to implicate The Joker, and guarantee the Reverend Droll an honored
spot in this community for years to come.
Now that was a joke worth laughing about.
23
The Joker smashed a chair through the window. He felt like smashing things. Small
things, big things, maybe even living things.
"You didn't get him? A perfectly good multimillionaire, and he slips through your
fingers? And I wasn't even going to make him the Batman." Dr. Andrews ducked as The
Joker grabbed a second chair. "No, I considered Bruce Wayne good enough to be---a
Joker!" The second chair followed the first. "There were two of you, up against a
member of the effete upper class! Is everyone around here incompetent?"
"Man," said Samson from where The Joker had backed him into a corner, "you don't
understand. He was everywhere! He beat George to a bloody pulp!"
The Joker stopped throwing things. The others in the room grew very quiet. My, that
reaction was gratifying; gratifying enough that he didn't need to kill anybody just now.
"But The Joker can turn aside his wrath," he said charitably. "The Joker can know
forgiveness. Samson, I will give you one more chance." He smiled graciously. "And,
yes, you get to do Gordon!"
"Gordon?" The look of fear in Samson's eyes turned to one of wonder. "Gee, boss,
that's great! I won't let you down this time."
"No, of course you won't." The Joker agreed amiably. "No one ever lets The Joker
down twice. And I have big plans for Commissioner Gordon. The sooner he is in my
hands, the better I will like it."
"Yessir!" Samson agreed. The Joker stepped back, and Samson scurried from the room.
The Joker made a soft tsking sound deep in his acid-scarred throat. It was such a shame
about Samson. He had seemed so competent when all he was snatching was overweight
businessmen and aging public officials. At the first challenge, though, he completely fell
apart.
Oh, well. The Joker had been planning to eliminate Samson anyway. And The Joker
knew he always made the right decisions.
Batman pulled his car over to the curb. He shook the other man's shoulder.
"Good morning."
The burly man blinked and focused his eyes. There was a gratifying look of fear in his
eyes. "Batman?"
"Pleased to meet you."
The burly man tried to struggle, but his bonds were too tight.
"Oh, shit," he muttered. "I've got to get out of here. How'd I end up with Batman?"
Batman smiled over at his captive passenger. "I gave Bruce Wayne some pointers."
"You were helping Wayne?" The burly man flexed his jaw. "No wonder he won." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]