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Chapter 27: Breaking the Code, Tim's Spark of Genius
In the night sky, a massive Bat-symbol was projected onto the clouds, visible to half the city.
On the roof of the abandoned GCPD precinct in Old Gotham, Gordon stood in his trench coat against the cold wind. Behind him, the searchlight hummed.
Gordon took out his pipe but hesitated to light it. Experience taught him that the moment he lit up, he would appear from the shadows and scare him into dropping it.
Forget it. He'll be here soon anyway.
But time passed. Thirty minutes. Nothing.
"Sorry, Commissioner. I'm late."
Robin landed on the roof.
"Robin? Just you? Where is he?" Gordon looked behind the boy.
"I have bad news. Batman is on a mission far from Gotham. He can't return immediately," Robin said gravely. "I saw the Riddler's video. We have to solve this one ourselves."
"Three months... he's been gone three months," Gordon frowned. "What mission takes this long?"
"It involves his other team. Compared to what they deal with, Gotham's lunatics almost seem normal," Robin said vaguely.
Gordon nodded, understanding. "Alright. The riddle. Any leads?"
"I have a theory," Robin began.
"The dead salesman hears the call of the waves. He will be buried at the place where three tilted crossroads overlap, and the vile murderer smiles before his tombstone."
"Three tilted crossroads can be seen as three X's. XXX. The 'vile murderer' is likely a distraction, but the key is the 'smile'. The shape of a smile is a 'V'. If we combine the crossroads and the smile, we get XXXV."
"In Roman numerals, that's 35."
Gordon nodded. The 'X' logic was sound. He hadn't connected the 'V', but it made sense.
"So, where is 35?" Gordon asked.
Robin fell silent. His expression was a mix of frustration and anxiety.
"I... I haven't solved the rest," Robin admitted. "35 could be a coordinate, a street number, anything. There are too many 35s in Gotham. And the 'dead salesman' and 'waves'... I checked Carmine Cape, thinking of suicide spots, but found nothing."
"Damn it. Only two days left." Robin clenched his fists.
Gordon placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up, son. You found a key piece. Stay calm."
"I will," Robin exhaled. "With Batman gone, I have to protect Gotham. I won't let Riddler win."
"I believe you," Gordon said warmly. Then he added, "Did you see Kid's reply?"
Robin nodded, his eyes narrowing.
"Kid's riddle is simple," Gordon said. "Nyx is the Goddess of Night. The last torch extinguishing is the deepest part of the night—Midnight. The Princess of Troy refers to the hostage—a captive of war. He intends to save her at midnight."
"Kid replied late, so he doesn't mean tonight. He means tomorrow midnight—the exact deadline Riddler set," Robin analyzed. "For him to announce a precise time means he's confident. He might already know where she is."
"Maybe. Kid enjoys puzzles too."
"I'll keep investigating," Robin turned to leave.
"Wait, Robin!" Gordon called out. "If you find her... don't go alone. Tell the GCPD. Let us handle the rescue."
Gordon looked at the boy earnestly. "I couldn't say this in front of Batman, but... working with him puts you in mortal danger. One Robin has already fallen. I've watched you all grow up. I don't want to see another tragedy."
"Protecting Gotham shouldn't be your burden alone. You can still walk away."
Robin listened silently. Finally, he spoke.
"You're a good man, Commissioner. That's why we trust you. But..."
Robin walked to the edge of the roof.
"I'm already in too deep."
He dove off the ledge.
Gordon sighed, lighting his pipe. "Gotham..."
Robin patrolled the city aimlessly, beating up thugs emboldened by Riddler's return. It helped vent his frustration.
"Dead salesman... waves... 35... how do they connect?!"
The sun began to rise. Another sleepless night.
Tim Drake changed into civilian clothes, bought a "dinner-breakfast" coffee, and headed to school.
He was usually the first one there. But today, he heard voices from a classroom. The drama club was rehearsing early.
Tim stopped. He recognized the lines. He was well-read, after all.
"That play... it's Death of a Salesman."
Tim's eyes went wide. A bolt of lightning struck his brain.
"Death of a Salesman... the author is Arthur Miller."
"Waves... Miller Harbor!"
"The hostage is at Miller Harbor, Cargo Area 35!"
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