The Dark Knight Rises: The Official Novelization Read Online Free PDF

She pointed it out to the valet, who obligingly opened the door for her. Thanking him, she slid into the car beside Congressman Gilly, who looked both startled and delighted by her unexpected entrance. Exactly as she had planned from the moment they had met.
    “Can I have a ride?” she purred.
    He leered at her like she was just another tasty morsel for his consumption. Deep in his cups, he slurred his response.
    “You read my mind.”
    The car pulled away from the house and toward the front gate.
    Alfred found Bruce kneeling before the hidden safe, his cane lying on the floor a few feet away. The butler wondered what his troubled employer was looking for.
    “Miss Tate was asking to see you again,” he said.
    Bruce did not look up from the safe.
    “She’s very persistent.”
    “And quite lovely,” Alfred observed. “In case you were wondering.”
    “I wasn’t.”
    Alfred sighed. It was precisely the response he had anticipated. I’m sorry, Miss Tate , he thought. I tried.
    His obligation to Miranda Tate discharged, albeitto no avail, he turned his attention to his employer’s current preoccupation.
    “What are you doing?”
    “Examining print dust,” Bruce said tersely. “We’ve been robbed.”
    Alfred was startled by the news. Wayne Manor’s security was state-of-the-art, and then some. They had never been burgled before.
    “And this is your idea of raising the alarm?” he asked. Wayne just shrugged.
    “She took the pearls,” he answered. “Tracking device and all.”
    Alfred recalled the precautions Bruce had taken to protect his late mother’s pearls. Poor Mrs. Wayne had been wearing those pearls the night she and her husband had lost their lives. It would be tragic if they were not recovered.
    Then he realized…
    “She?”
    “One of the maids.” Bruce gave Alfred a wry look. “Perhaps you should stop letting them into this side of the house.”
    “Perhaps you should learn to make your own bed, then.” He bent to look over Bruce’s shoulder. “Why are you dusting for prints?”
    “I’m not,” Bruce said. “She was.”

CHAPTER FOUR

    The rooftop of police headquarters had become Commissioner Gordon’s personal refuge, away from the nonstop phone calls, emails, faxes, meetings, and bureaucracy that came with the job. He liked to think he did his best detective work here, where he could actually concentrate without being interrupted—at least some of the time.
    On clear nights like this one, the roof offered a good view of midtown, the bridges, and the adjoining islands. The city appeared quiet, but Gordon knew that looks could be deceptive. Who knew what was going on behind closed doors and in the murky back alleys? Let the politicians brag that Gotham had been cleaned up for good. Gordon had been a cop too long to take anything for granted. Crime never slept, so he couldn’t afford to, either.
    Especially now that he didn’t have a certain Dark Knight backing him up.
    He yawned. It was late, but he was in no hurry to return to his depressingly empty apartment. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered keeping it—he practically lived at Police HQ anyway, or so Barbara had always complained. Smacking a thick stack of files against a nearby air duct to shake off the dust, he settled back against the railing to read. A shattered searchlight, rusted over and corroded, sat neglected a few yards away. Gordon had personally smashed it with a sledgehammer almost eight years ago. But he had never had the heart to remove it.
    Maybe someday. . .
    “Sir?” A young uniformed officer joined him on the rooftop. He approached Gordon tentatively. “I didn’t want to bother you up here, but they’re looking for you.”
    Gordon glanced up from the reports.
    “What’s the problem, son?”
    “Congressman Gilly’s wife has been calling. He hasn’t made it home from the Wayne Foundation event.”
    Gordon remembered Gilly pawing that poor maid. Maybe he had found a more cooperative