Free Batman Arkham Knight by Marv Wolfman Page B

of the city’s worst.
    Better here than the Batcave
, Batman mused as he approached soundstage 37. But he wasn’t there to tour the studio’s empty cells. The first antenna was hidden in a forest of satellite dishes, all installed in the early nineties to take the studio into the future world of digital transmission. Most were inert, but some were leased out to companies like the Gotham Broadcasting Corporation.
    “Batman.”
Oracle’s voice suddenly blared over his comm
. “I’ve got good news and bad. The good, the studio is a hundred percent clear. Except for you, there are no heat signatures anywhere. I think you’re free of Scarecrow’s forces.”
    “And the bad?”
    “Power to the entire studio’s been knocked out. That means the satellite dishes are little more than hunks of steel.”
    “Not a major problem. I never leave home without my own power source.”
    “The Batmobile,”
she said.
“Of course. Okay, you handle that. I’ll find that second antenna. Good luck.”
    “We make our own luck, Barbara,” he said as he backed the car toward the satellite array behind soundstage 37, former home to Gotham City’s News Center-1 team. Setting the proximity alarm to alert him to unexpected intruders, he ran charge wires from the Batmobile’s engine to a small generator. It, in turn, was attached to a single, unimposing antenna hidden among the rest.
    He set the Batmobile to neutral, then gunned its engine. Moments later the generator hummed with power. Shortly thereafter he reported his progress.
    “Oracle, the generator’s at eighty-five percent. It should be full charged in less than three minutes.” Checking to make sure the generator would run independently, he asked, “Do you have an address for the second antenna?”
    “I do, but you’re not going to like it.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “It’s Falcone Shipping.”
    “Yeah, well, nobody ever promised me that this was going to be simple.”
    “It gets worse.”
    “Do tell.”
    “We have a missing cop. Alan Dini, twenty-year vet—his name came up when the computer gave me the location. He last reported that he was patrolling the docks near the Falcone warehouse, and saw something he thought wasn’t quite kosher. Said he was going to look into it. That’s the last we heard from him.”
    “Has the G.C.P.D. sent out anyone to look for him?”
    “I checked. With all that’s going on, there’s nobody available. Besides, they’re assuming that he just decided to leave the city, like most of the cops already have. But it’s too much of a coincidence—I’m thinking Dini may have seen something connected with Falcone Shipping.
    “Since you’re already on the way there…”
    “Got it,” he replied, cutting her off. “Do you have details on the location?”
    “As much as I can get,”
she said.
“When I first scanned, there were a dozen heat signatures in a supply room in shipping warehouse 15. All but three left, but if I was a betting girl I’d say that’s where they’re holding him. I’m uploading the warehouse’s schematics to you now.”
    “While I look in on our hostage, update your antenna readouts and keep me posted. I have a hunch tying into that one won’t be the cakewalk Panessa was.”
    “Speaking of which, Bruce, I’ve locked onto the Panessa signal and patched into the satellite. Even if the studio antenna gets shut down I’ll be able to use the satellite. Now I need a second one.”
    “Now that’s good news. You buried the headline.”
    “Long as I don’t bury you along with it. Be careful. Falcone’s tentacles reach in a lot of different directions.”
    * * *
    Warehouse 15 was an old commercial steel building, built in the 1940s on Bleake Island’s southwest district two. It boasted two rear loading docks that opened onto the Gotham River, and was one of several buildings that surrounded “Falcone Plaza,” all situated around a main structure that looked more like a fortress than an administration