At two in the morning, Harvey Dent sat in the old records room at the Gotham Police Department.
His right arm was bandaged, and ash still lingered in his hair where he had failed to wash it clean. Gordon switched off the hallway surveillance cameras. Batman stood by the door, and the construction nail recovered from the fire lay on the table.
"How's Gilda?" Harvey asked.
"Out of danger," Gordon said.
"What about Spider-Man?"
Batman answered, "He doesn't know."
Harvey raised his head.
"He brought Gilda out of the fire, then went back twice to look for me."
"Maroni's men saw that," Batman said. "They also saw Spider-Man leave empty-handed."
"So you need him to truly believe I'm dead."
"Yes."
Gordon lit a cigarette but did not smoke it. He held it between his fingers, then pressed it into the ashtray a while later.
Gordon said, "Once this is over, I'll talk to him."
"Once it's over?" Harvey asked. "When has anything ever been over for us?"
No one answered.
The Bat-Signal outside the window was dark. Only the lamp on the table lit the old records room, its light falling over Gordon's badge, Harvey's bloodstained prosecutor's identification, and the evidence Batman had brought back from the fire.
When Gotham built its police station and courthouse, it had probably truly hoped those places could protect people.
Tonight, three men sat there, preparing to make them work again.
Batman pushed the construction nail's serial number in front of Harvey.
"The buyer was Mickey Sullivan. His construction company has been out of business for two years, but it's still purchasing demolition materials."
"One of Maroni's men," Gordon said.
"Mickey won't give up Sal directly," Harvey said. "Maroni controls his lawyer, and he knows where his whole family lives."
Batman took out a