Batman 2 - Batman Returns by Craig Shaw Gardner Read Free Book Online Page A

mounting the steps. Max snapped his fingers, and a pair of his personal Shreck security guards stepped by him to intercept the intruder.
    They grabbed the reporter by the elbows.
    “Mr. Penguin is not to be disturbed,” one of the guards remarked as he turned the reporter back down the steps.
    “The Hall of Records is a public place!” the reporter yelled back in professional outrage. “You’re violating the First Amendment, abridging the freedom of the press—”
    This had gone far enough. Max waved for his own phalanx of reporters to follow him outside. Now he’d give them the story he’d promised.
    As he stepped forward, he waved to the guards to let their escort stay on the steps for the moment.
    “What about the freedom to rediscover your roots,” Max asked the angry reporter as all the other newsmen around him jotted down his every word, “with dignity, in privacy?”
    The once angry reporter smiled. He sensed a story.
    “What’s the deal, Mr. Shreck?” He thrust his handheld tape recorder straight at Max. “Is The Penguin a personal friend?”
    “Yes,” Max replied soberly, “he’s a personal friend—of this whole city. So have a heart, buddy.” He reached forward and hit the stop button on the reporter’s recorder. “And give the Constitution a rest, okay? It’s Christmas.”

    There were so many records, so much to do.
    The Penguin sat at a great table in the cavernous main hall of the records building, surrounded by hundreds of thousands of birth certificates. And The Penguin had to look at every one.
    Occasionally, he would find what he wanted, and jot it down on a legal pad. He was only vaguely aware of the noises outside, of a crowd of reporters shouting questions and calling his name. This work was far too important to be distracted by such common concerns.
    But day ended, and as the night descended, the reporters left at last. Still, The Penguin worked by the light of a single lamp, flipping through the certificates, and jotting down names, boys’ names, on his legal pads. He had already filled a tall stack of these pads with names, but his work was not yet done.
    After all, this was only the beginning of The Penguin’s revenge.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

    I t was far too quiet.
    He guided the Batmobile down the deserted streets of Gotham City. Over the past couple of days, there had been almost a complete halt in heavy-duty crime; not a single bank heist, only one bungled attempt to hold up a convenience store, hardly even any murders. It was as if the criminals of Gotham City were staying off the streets, waiting for something really big.
    A light flashed on the console in front of him. Alfred was calling. Batman pressed a button, and the butler’s face lit up a small video screen by the wheel.
    “The city’s been noticeably quiet since the thwarted baby-napping, yet still you patrol,” Alfred announced in that disapproving way he had. “What about eating? Sleeping? You won’t be much good to anyone else if you don’t look after yourself.”
    “The Red Triangle Circus Gang” was Batman’s terse reply. “They’re jackals, Alfred. They hunt in packs, at night—”
    He glanced out the windshield. He had almost reached his destination.
    “Are you concerned about that strange heroic Penguin person?” Alfred asked in his dry British manner.
    Batman laughed. He pulled the Batmobile up in front of the Gotham Hall of Records. Two men, a policeman and a Shreck security guard, stood to either side of the entryway, or, to be more accurate, they slumped, since both appeared to be dozing.
    Batman looked up at the single lit window within the hall. Why was The Penguin still inside?
    “Funny you should ask, Alfred,” he said to the butler. “Maybe I am a bit concerned.”
    Well, now, this was quite a turnout. Not only was the press out in force—but then, these days, they followed The Penguin everywhere—but there was a huge crowd of the general public as well, including a small number