It was well past midnight when Harvey crossed the city and reached Dodge's residence. The lavish estate nestled halfway up the mountain was still ablaze with lights. Across the sprawling lawns, he could even see purple lasers shooting into the sky from behind the castle.
Apparently, a lively party was underway inside the estate.
With enough money, people in Gotham could enjoy quite a nightlife.
In theory, Oswald and Dodge held equal rank in the gang, both reporting directly to Maroni. In practice, however, their finances, manpower, and overall strength were worlds apart.
The down-and-out Oswald could not even compare to one of Dodge's underlings. Just look at the man showing Harvey the way: a crisp black suit without a speck of dust, and a gold watch peeking out from his left cuff. Harvey could not make out the brand, but it certainly looked expensive.
After identifying himself, Harvey was led onto a sightseeing cart and driven past vineyards, lawns, and stables to the private pool behind the mansion.
A midnight party was in full swing. Figures moved through the backyard, which covered over three hundred square meters, and every casual glance landed on a supermodel in a revealing bikini.
Even a minor gang boss lived in such luxury. Harvey could not imagine how much this man had earned from dealing drugs.
The fat man riding an inflatable duck in the middle of the pool, surrounded by beautiful women, was Dodge. Although he had allowed Harvey inside, he had no intention of entertaining him. He merely glanced at him out of the corner of his eye before sinking back into the women's embrace.
He was clearly giving Harvey the cold shoulder, hoping to give this kid from New York a taste of how Gotham worked.
Harvey was not about to stand at the pool's edge and stare helplessly. He took off his jacket, jumped into the water with a splash, and swam toward Dodge.
Dodge had not expected him to break the deadlock this way and froze for a moment. Fortunately, he recovered quickly, waving the women away and telling the DJ beside the pool to stop.
He pulled a small sealed plastic bag from beneath the inflatable duck. Inside were two little white pills.
"Want a taste?"
"No, thanks. I'm here to discuss business."
"Business? As far as I'm concerned, having fun is business!"
Dodge tore open the bag and swallowed a pill. Before long, a sickly flush spread across his face. His eyes rolled back, and his heavy panting accompanied the twitching fat on his cheeks. He looked like an infected man who might turn into a zombie at any moment.
"Drugs are illegal in New Jersey. Aren't you afraid I'll send you to prison for popping pills right in front of a prosecutor?"
"Oh, please, Harvey Dent. I've seen plenty of people like you!"
Dodge let out a strange laugh and snapped his fingers. His men brought over two reinforced cases.
The cases opened, and their contents spilled into the pool in a rustling cascade of banknotes.
Dodge pursed his lips contemptuously. "Here, boy. Go on! Fish out as much as you want. Just agree to stay out of my business, and I'll save you a place at my future parties."
The rippling water pushed a hundred-dollar bill toward Harvey.
Benjamin Franklin's portrait warped as the bill soaked through. It seemed to be sneering, or perhaps pulling a face.
Harvey kept his gaze straight ahead, letting the waterlogged bill slowly sink to the bottom of the pool.
His reaction made Dodge frown. Dodge paddled his rubber duck to the edge, put on a bathrobe, and pulled a cigar from its pocket.
"Harvey Dent! You need to understand that, as a newcomer, this is all you're worth. If you want a closer partnership, you'll have to provide some valuable information."
"You've misunderstood me from the start. I'm not after money."
Dodge was puzzled. He had met plenty of cops and prosecutors, and every last one had come for money. In Gotham City, everyone had a price tag.
Just like those glamorous models, who walked the runways by day and frequented all kinds of social venues at night, spending the night with anyone who could afford their fee.
They certainly looked beautiful with their clothes on, but naked, with their hair disheveled-that was who they really were.
He did not believe in the face Harvey presented to the world.
"Harvey Dent, exactly how much will it take for you to show your true colors?"
"No money. Evidence of Maroni's crimes will do," Harvey said.
With a sharp snip, Dodge viciously cut the end off his cigar, then whipped a gold revolver from his pocket and pointed it straight at Harvey Dent.
"You've got some nerve. You're going to die here!"
"Really?" Harvey flashed his trademark brilliant smile.
"If you shoot, my colleagues will surround this place and search the entire estate a second later. They won't be doing it for justice, and they won't be avenging me, but they'll certainly seize everything valuable on your property. Even if Maroni has a scapegoat ready for you tomorrow, you'll never get that dirty money back.
"You probably know better than I do how corrupt the Gotham Police Department is. If you want to kill me, are you prepared to lose everything?"
Harvey spread his arms, his gaze blazing.
He knew better than anyone that this secret operation had no backup. Yet he remained fearless, betting that Dodge would not dare go all in.
A rat that had crawled out of the sewer and been lured by the fragrant cheese on the dining table would never abandon such a hard-won feast unless its life was threatened.
Dodge laughed, dropped into a lounge chair, and pulled the trigger to light his cigar.
The pistol-shaped lighter had been meant to intimidate Harvey. Unfortunately, Harvey had not fallen for it.
"I have nothing to discuss with you. Please leave my estate."
Dodge showed him the door.
He still naively believed he controlled the game. Little did he know that, from the moment he chose to receive Harvey Dent, death had already begun writing its prologue in the shadows.
Sitting in the back of the sightseeing cart, Harvey finished composing his report, then flicked his wrist and tossed the phone into the vineyard while the driver was not looking. The unsent text accusing Dodge of betrayal would become the spark that set off Maroni's reckoning with him.
He returned to the Senate and gave the poor corpse its clothes back. Then he and Qin Wei drove across Brown Bridge to the outskirts, where they threw the body bag into the rushing Gotham River.
"It's over," Harvey said.
"Yeah. Let's hope it is."
The temperature plummeted in the early hours. Qin Wei leaned against the sports car's warm hood, soaking up its heat. Although he did not smoke, he suddenly wanted a cigarette.
The desolate outskirts, a full moon sinking in the west, and two men each lost in his own thoughts-a cigarette between his fingers would have suited the scene perfectly.
"Doesn't helping us dump a body make you an accomplice, esteemed prosecutor?"
"The body will rot and swell inside the bag, producing a lot of gas until it eventually floats to the surface. It'll drift down the Gotham River to the harbor, where someone will find it. If I already knew it would be found, I'd say this counts as moving a corpse at most. Besides, he fell down the stairs by accident. What does that have to do with me?"
Harvey Dent's words made Qin Wei's skin crawl.
He had not known this man for long. Only now did Qin Wei begin to suspect that something was wrong with him psychologically.
Unlike Gordon, this man did not seem to be pursuing procedural justice. For the fairness he believed in, he might be willing to do anything.
Bright Knight, if I can stop Maroni from throwing sulfuric acid at you, will you really change the course of the story and finally become Gotham's savior?
Qin Wei quietly glanced sideways at Harvey Dent beside him, only to find that Harvey was looking at him too.
At that moment, light and shadow divided his face perfectly: one half bathed in moonlight, the other lurking in darkness.
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