"Jay, he called. The drop is scheduled for 2:00 AM, at the reservoir north of the Robinson River, between Robinson Park and the Wayne Botanical Gardens."
Cobblepot's call came in at nine in the evening. He sounded tense but relatively composed.
"Okay, how is your mother doing?"
"She's fine. I have her settled. Black Mask's people showed up a few minutes late. Gabe and the others exchanged fire downstairs, but they didn't catch anyone. They pulled back after the police cars showed up."
"Got it. Proceed with the delivery as planned and wait for my signal."
Jay hung up and waved to the officers of the East Precinct.
"Move out!"
…
Gotham was not quiet at this hour; it was just pre-gaming its nightly revelry. The police convoy clearly had no intention of attracting attention, driving subdued and dark along the Robinson River, slowly coming to a halt near the Robinson Bridge.
A dozen police cars were already scattered there. Gordon leaned against his cruiser door, his cigarette glowing rhythmically in the dark.
Jay grabbed his rifle, jumped out of his vehicle, and walked over. Gordon glanced at the heavily modified E350 assault vehicle, then back at his own Crown Victoria, a flicker of envy in his eyes.
"Now that's a rig. A man should be driving something like that."
"Central Precinct can afford one." Jay craned his neck to look behind Gordon. "The hell ! Is that all of you? Fifty? Sixty? You didn't seriously bring this few men, did you? Where's the West Precinct?"
"Forty-two. Everyone who's usable is here. Arthur Brown bailed, said West Precinct was understaffed and could only hold their own perimeter," Gordon sighed.
"Loeb has at least a hundred and fifty men covering City Hall Plaza and the Diamond District residences, plus thirty officers assigned to protect the 'great philanthropist' Falcone."
"Shit, what you said on the phone this afternoon was true! I thought that idiot Loeb just had it out for you…"
"It's not that the West Precinct is short-handed, it's that the bastard sold all their gear. They're probably stuck trying to use leather jackets as body armor."
Jay tilted his head back and took a deep breath, fighting the urge to curse again. "What about the precinct itself? How many did you leave there?"
"Around fifty men."
"Fifty men… the evidence locker should be secure enough." Jay mused. "Do you have any veterans available? Send a few to work with Cobblepot. We can't ignore the drop site, in case they actually show up to collect the weapons."
"Good point."
Gordon designated five cruisers to stay behind and stake out the drop site. He instructed them not to engage, but only to monitor, report, and track if any unusual activity occurred.
The rest of the men got back in their cars and headed toward Narrow Island in a massive formation.
The beams of the headlights were murky and weak in the damp night fog; shadows seemed to flicker through them constantly.
The convoy turned southwest near the ACE Chemicals plant in Burnley. The salty smell of river water mixed with oil and garbage gradually gave way to the acrid stench of sulfur and disinfectant.
"Goddammit! Oof!"
The jarring beneath the wheels felt like they'd driven over a patch of rubble. The road was pothole-ridden, like a forgotten, necrotic vein of the city. Cracks spread across the surface like black spiderwebs.
On both sides, the forest was a looming mass of black shadows, its twisted branches reaching out like ghostly claws toward the road.
Seven or eight out of every ten streetlights were dead. The few that remained cast a sickly yellow glow that failed to dispel the darkness, instead stretching the distorted shadows longer, occasionally sweeping across the windshield.
"Al, you holding up?"
Jay glanced at Albert in the passenger seat. After his adrenaline had worn off, the old sergeant had reverted to his usual gloomy state. Hearing the question, he forced a strained smile. "I'm… I'm fine!"
"I've been meaning to ask you… if you actually survive today, what then?" Jay grinned at him. "Should I shoot you in the back so you win the bet?"
"No, no, no. I… I think… I actually feel like staying alive for one more day is a better idea now."
Albert put on an awkward smile. "Captain, our bet… maybe we should just call it off…"
"I don't care either way," Jay downshifted. The massive outline of Arkham Asylum was now visible at the end of the road.
"But what about the rest of the precinct? How many years of money have you screwed them out of?"
He watched Albert gripping his seatbelt, his face pale, and silently shook his head.
"Forget it. When things kick off, you stay in the back storage area. Pay attention to the safety on your gun, don't want it going off by accident."
…
The historic asylum did not stand alone; it was surrounded by overgrown, desolate woods and towering walls topped with barbed wire. Much of the dark red brick structure was faded and blackened, covered in damp moss and unnamed vines.
From a distance, it didn't look like a man-made building but a grotesque growth that had sprung naturally from the cursed earth.
The convoy followed the single road leading to the main entrance. The closer they got to the Gothic main building, the stronger the sense of dread became. Turrets and spires pierced the sky.
The narrow windows were mostly black, though a few emitted a faint, sickly yellow light, like the watching eyes of a beast in its lair.
The massive, open iron gate was heavily rusted. A few guards with blank expressions stood by.
Jay tapped the accelerator, and the lead E350 assault vehicle drove through first, followed by the others. The taillights, like red drops of blood, were quickly swallowed by the bottomless shadows.
The convoy finally stopped in the empty lot in front of the main entrance. After the engines died, the only sound was the wind whining through the shattered windowpanes.
Standing on the steps of the main entrance was a tall, bald man wearing gold-rimmed glasses. He wasn't in a white medical coat but a well-tailored dark suit.
He watched Gordon, who was climbing out of Harvey Bullock's car, and slowly descended the steps.
"Detective Gordon, we were scheduled to meet at the precinct on Friday." His voice was low, calm, gentle, and… precise. There was no hint of fatigue or annoyance from being disturbed by the unexpected visit, like a surgical scalpel wrapped in velvet.
"May I inquire as to what has prompted the GCPD to make such a grand entrance, visiting my humble sanitarium so late at night?"
His leather shoes made a clear, solitary echo on the stone steps. He stopped and extended his hand toward Gordon.
"Indeed, we were due to meet Friday, Dr. Strange. However, a group of terrorists may be planning to attack Arkham tonight. We are here to secure the premises."
The two men shook hands. A subtle upward twitch registered at the corner of Strange's mouth.
"Detective Gordon, Arkham's very existence is to contain and manage Gotham's most extreme safety concerns. I have complete confidence in my team's ability to control the situation."
"I don't doubt your ability, Doctor," Gordon's tone hardened. "But this is different. The threat is external, and their goal is to break that control. For the safety of your staff and patients, we must establish a defense."
Strange was silent for a few seconds, his gaze sweeping over the police cars and the tense faces of the officers behind Gordon. He finally nodded.
"I understand. In the spirit of cooperation, I will instruct my staff to assist you, but I must urge you to keep your men in line, Detective. The residents here are highly… sensitive. Any excessive stimulation could trigger an unpredictable chain reaction. The calm here," he paused, adding significantly, "is a very delicate and fragile balance."
He leaned slightly forward, and a cold glint flashed off his glasses.
"I trust neither of us wishes to be the one who breaks that balance. After all, once certain things are out of the box… it becomes exceedingly difficult to coax them back in."
He glanced toward the assault vehicle, then turned, walked up the steps, and entered Arkham's main building.
"Tell them to park the cars in the wings."
Jay jumped down, waved to the cars behind him, and asked Gordon, "So, did we miss anything?"
"I don't think so. The Falcone Family Memorial Hall?"
"Who cares? Loeb sent people anyway. I'm taking the front position; the back is yours."
Jay scoffed, climbed back into his car, and restarted the engine. The assault vehicle drove up to the main gate of the asylum and parked sideways, blocking the entrance. He shut off the engine and the lights, leaning back in his seat to rest his eyes.
Hopefully, this rig is worth the black money I charged for the modifications.
Hopefully.
——————
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