"Young man... I admire you. How much did he pay you to kill me? I'll double it!"
Even with the ropes squeezing the breath out of him, Falcone hadn't forgotten to try to win William over.
But William had no interest in wasting words. He tossed the old man aside and devoted all his attention to the safe.
By then, Falcone had lost all hope.
If an assassin could break into his mansion and quietly turn his men against him without alerting anyone, perhaps that meant his era was over.
It was time for Gotham to change hands.
He closed his eyes with a cold smile.
But several seconds passed without the gunshot that would seal his fate. Instead, he heard the click-click of a dial behind him.
What was he doing?
The old man wriggled and squirmed, painstakingly shifting himself into a position where he could see William.
What was this brat doing?!
For a moment, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.
He'd gone to all this trouble to break into the office just for some lousy safe?
Was the great Carmine Falcone not even worth a second glance?!!
Wait!
The old man suddenly remembered something Chief Norman had reported a few days earlier-not a major issue, but not a trivial one, either.
A highly capable rookie at the police department was suspected of being Maroni's mole. They couldn't find any evidence, but recruiting him risked leaking confidential information.
So Falcone had suggested a plan.
"If the 'evidence' ends up in Maroni's hands, find an opportunity to dispose of him. If he hands you the documents untouched, then he's someone you can trust."
That was the kind of man Falcone was. He didn't mind offering up his estate, even if it was only to do an old friend a small favor.
Besides, he wanted to see just how capable this police rookie was to have earned such lavish praise from Norman.
After all, the last man to earn that kind of appreciation had been James Gordon.
But the whole plan should have ground to a halt after the explosion.
"No way!"
Falcone stared at William's busy figure.
He could hardly believe that the man who had turned his loyal subordinate against him was the young cop Norman had mentioned.
"Got it!!"
William had cracked the safe and pulled out the carefully prepared fake documents.
The sight of that document envelope nearly made Falcone stop breathing.
It really was him!
This world had gone completely insane!!
Just as William was about to leave, the rotary phone on the desk rang.
Remembering his contact's instructions, he cautiously picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Damn it, you actually went?!"
His contact sounded anxious and furious. He'd meant to tell William the mission was canceled, but after searching the lobby without finding him, he'd dialed the phone in his boss's office, fearing the worst.
"How is Mr. Falcone?"
"Tied up!"
"..."
"I've got the stuff. Which way do I escape?"
"Escape? Where exactly do you think you're escaping to? Someone's already coming for you with guns. Unless you want to get shot full of holes, put your hands over your head and crouch in a corner..."
William dropped the receiver before he finished.
He'd already trussed Falcone up like a turkey. How could surrender still be an option?
"Young man, this is all a misunderstanding..."
Falcone tried to explain, but William didn't give him the chance. He pulled a book off the shelf and shoved its spine into the old man's mouth.
Then he closed the battered door.
This was where the fireworks he'd gotten from the system came in handy.
The instant the intruder burst into his office, Falcone had pressed the alarm button hidden beneath his chair's armrest.
That was why the squad now advancing along the corridor walls on the third floor toward their boss's office consisted of the Falcone Family's elite fighters, all ready to die for him.
Every one of them was highly skilled and equipped with an MP5 submachine gun.
Their orders were simple, too.
No negotiations. No compromises. Assume the boss was already dead and shoot everything that moved on the third floor full of holes.
They had reached the door, a dozen or so men lined up on either side. At a hand signal from their captain, the point men crouched to clear firing lanes for their teammates.
Crack-crack-crack!
Bang-!
Unexpectedly, gunfire erupted inside the room first.
As flashes of muzzle fire flickered beneath the door, gunsmoke quickly escaped past the barrier.
Caught off guard, the captain immediately changed his orders.
"Fall back, get low, find cover!"
The squad swiftly retreated around the corner.
The captain worked up the courage to peek out, exposing barely half his head, but he could see nothing except drifting gunsmoke.
He could hardly believe his ears. At least five guns were firing nonstop inside the office, and he was almost certain they were Remington 870s. How had so many people broken into his boss's office, even bringing heavy firepower with them?
Had the Falcone Family been infiltrated that thoroughly?
"We need reinforcements. Bring in all the family's firepower!"
The captain issued the order with a grim expression.
Meanwhile, William had no idea how much trouble he'd caused inside the office. He pushed the window open to let the night breeze carry the smoke away.
Then he could climb from the windowsill onto the roof.
This was the extraction route Stuart had suggested.
A good infiltrator should always have a plan B, so William had chosen this route before entering the castle.
Clinging to the windowsill, he climbed with every ounce of strength he had, first hooking his foot up, then using his left hand to push himself upward bit by bit.
He didn't have Batman's physical prowess. After that grueling maneuver, he lay on the sloping roof tiles, gasping for breath.
But at least he'd successfully stolen the confidential documents.
All right, "stolen" clearly wasn't quite the right word.
But that didn't matter. He was safe now.
Beneath the shadow of a pointed roof, Stuart had been waiting for some time in his Batsuit.
"Done. Hurry up and get me out of here. I don't want to spend another minute in this damn place."
He walked toward Stuart, waving the documents.
Stuart reached out as well, but his target was the document envelope in William's hand.
"Quit messing around. Our plan was to do this in the police station's underground garage..."
Before he could finish, Stuart snatched the envelope away.
William's expression changed.
"What are you doing? You're putting me in a very difficult position."
When Stuart remained unmoved, William simply reached out to snatch it back.
His grasp missed, and his hand pressed against Stuart's chest instead.
It was springy.
The familiar yet unfamiliar sensation made William hesitate for a moment.
A vicious knife-hand strike slashed diagonally down, landing hard on the artery in his neck.
His muscles contracted violently from the pain, and the interrupted blood flow to his brain sent him into a brief dizzy spell.
"She's not Stuart. The beacon... the Beacon Mark..."
William fought to stay conscious and tried to throw out the beacon, but his body slid uncontrollably down the roof.
Just as he was about to tumble over the edge, a strong hand clamped hard around his arm.
"Hold on!"
It was Stuart.
His voice was low and firm, with a trace of barely perceptible anger.
The gunsmoke gradually dispersed, and a cold breeze brushed William's face, as though feeding a breath of oxygen into his groggy brain.
"She ran that way!"
Before you continue