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you don’t call me about every murder in Gotham City. Was there—?”
    “This was an assassination,”
Gordon said.
“And the reason I called you is that the word ‘tick-tock’ was carved into the shaft of the arrow. It’s got to be some kind of message.”
    Tick-tock. Damn, that’s it.
    Batman swiped windows away from the corner of the display, uncovering the timer app window. It was ticking down again.
    00:54:47
    The timer window expanded and a line of text appeared below the countdown.
    V AULT AHEAD . D ON ’ T GET BOXED IN . Y OU CAN BANK ON FINDING SOMETHING TO SINK YOUR TEETH INTO!
    “Commissioner,” Batman said, “I’m going to have to call you back.”

4
    And now
, thought the Riddler,
things begin in earnest.
    So many interlocking plans, each timed to activate at just the right moment. So many moving parts, each with its own function and each depending on so many others. He had never attempted anything quite like this.
    The thought thrilled him.
    No one had ever done
anything
like this. There were puzzles within riddles within conundrums within enigmas, a clockwork masterpiece that depended on perfect timing—and, of course, on the indomitable will of Batman and Robin. It was the mark of genius to turn the enemy’s signal virtue into his undoing. This the Riddler planned to do, and with the kind of panache that would make Gotham City stand up and take notice.
    It wasn’t an easy thing, standing out from the crowd of misanthropy and violence in his particular town… but he had found a way to do it.
    Oh, yes he had.
    The timer was ticking, and he knew
exactly
what was occurring. Gordon had called Batman and Robin. He always summoned them when he was out of his depth. They knew, now, the seriousness of the situation. They would act quickly, and proceed to the bank.
    To the vault, and what it contained.
    Perfect.
Parts of the magnificent puzzle were falling into place, while others already were beginning to unmake themselves. Sooner or later Batman would understand that, and when he did, the second phase of the plan would activate itself.
    The Riddler watched, and resisted the urge to rub his hands together in cartoonish glee. The first bait, and they had taken it—before long the hook would be well and truly set. Question marks and fishhooks, the resemblance was uncanny, he thought, and he filed it away. There was a riddle in that, demanding to be found. Pity he hadn’t thought of it for this endeavor.
    Another time
, he mused.
It’s good to be thinking ahead, but let’s not allow our attention to wander, just when it’s required.
His communications were in place, as was a set of superbly calibrated challenges. His pawns were in place, the opening move was complete, and now he had to wait for Batman to catch up. By playing the only moves he could play.
    The gambit was coming.
    He could hardly wait.
    Patience
, he told himself. Would Batman interpret the signs correctly and respond to the gambit the way the Riddler had designed it?
I know you, Batman
, he thought,
far better than you know me, and that imbalance will be the difference that becomes your undoing. It’s the tenth move that forces the checkmate in the fortieth.
    The real game was about to begin.
    * * *
    A short time later, a lackey entered the Riddler’s sanctum. He reported on their progress in locating the mechanical guardians.
    “We’ve found five of them so far,” the thug said. He was heavyset, and didn’t look as if he’d shaved recently.
    “Excellent,” the Riddler responded, smiling with undisguised glee. “What sort of condition are they in?”
    “They all seem pretty much undamaged, though we won’t know for sure until we can turn them on.” He grinned. “It’s lucky you got your hands on them when you did,” he added. “If the Joker had kept control over them, no telling how much damage he’d’ve done. If he was calling the shots, that’d be all she wrote.”
    The smile disappeared from the Riddler’s