Schiller opened the office door, and a travel-worn Gordon walked in. Schiller looked him over, then said, "Looks like you need an ice-cold beer more. Wait here a moment."
Schiller went to the refrigerator in the Lounge, took out a cold beer, and handed it to Gordon. Gordon did not stand on ceremony. He popped the cap and gulped down half the bottle.
Then he wiped his mouth, let out a satisfied sigh, set the bottle aside, and said, "Looks like you've already heard about that big guy. I'm planning to talk to him. What do you think?"
"Did you come here specifically to ask for my opinion today? I'm honored. But I know that no matter what I say, you won't listen."
Gordon grinned. "Well, not specifically for that. I've had people watching several hospitals in the neighborhood. Just like you predicted, they're all using Ordin Company equipment. But nothing seems out of the ordinary. Should we keep watching them?"
Schiller shook his head. "You've already done me enough favors. Focus on managing the Lower City. Let's talk about Death Angel instead. How much do you know about him?"
"Looks like he's a religious fanatic." Gordon took another drink of beer and said, "The people who saw him said he dressed like a combat priest from some medieval cult. His uniform looks exquisite, probably expensive to make. People suspect that, like Batman, he has some wealthy benefactor backing him."
"How effective has he been at fighting crime?"
At that, Gordon looked troubled. "Actually, terribly. I admit he's intimidated some super-criminals and made our neighborhoods a little safer."
"But he has no restraint whatsoever. There was a punk in my district a while back who broke into a Shop to steal something so he could buy drugs. He was an