The Dark Knight Rises Read Online Free

madness, bulged from a naked socket. A ragged gap in his cheek offered a glimpse of exposed jawbone, while a strip of raw gristle stretched vertically across what remained of Harvey’s smile.
    By contrast, the right side of his face remained just as handsome as ever.
    No longer the crusading district attorney, Harvey menaced a small boy with a loaded handgun. The boy, Gordon’s own precious son, trembled in the madman’s clutches, trying bravely not to cry, even as Gordon pleaded desperately for his child’s life.
    Unmoved, Dent flipped a coin. . .
    Gordon forced the ghastly memory from his mind. He gazed out at the audience, wondering if they were finally ready to hear what he had to say. Harvey’s portrait, the portrait of a hero, loomed silently behind him. Gordon pondered his options—and his motives. Was clearing his own conscience worth risking all that had been accomplished in Harvey’s name?
    “I have written a speech telling the truth about Harvey Dent,” Gordon admitted, making up his mind. He folded up his papers and stuffed them inside his jacket, close to his chest. “But maybe the time isn’t right.”
    “Thank Christ for that,” Gilly muttered at the bar, a tad too loudly.
    “Maybe all you need to know,” Gordon said, “is that there are a thousand inmates in Blackgate Prison as a direct result of the Dent Act. These are violent criminals, essential cogs in the organized crime machine that terrorized Gotham for so long. Maybe for now all I should say about Harvey Dent’s death is this—it has not been for nothing.”
    The crowd clapped enthusiastically—all except for the figure on the balcony, who silently turned away and disappeared into the upper reaches of the mansion. Watching him out of the corner of his eye, Gordon saw him vanish.
    Can’t blame him, Gordon thought. I didn’t say anything worth hearing.
    Feeling like a coward, he retreated from the dais. Doubts followed him, as they had every day for eightlong years. Had he done the right thing? Or had he simply chickened out?
    He found Foley at the bar.
    “The second shift reports in?” Gordon asked.
    “On your desk,” Foley assured him. “But you should put in more time with the mayor.”
    Gordon snorted.
    “That’s your department.” Foley was better at working City Hall, and stroking the egos of politicians. Gordon preferred the nuts-and-bolts of old-fashioned police work.
    With one last, rueful glance at the portrait on the dais, he decided he’d done his part for Harvey Dent Day this year. So he headed for the gravel driveway in front of the mansion, where a long row of spotless town cars waited for their powerful and/or affluent passengers. He couldn’t wait to get out of here.
    This got harder every year.
    Back at the bar, the congressman shook his head at Gordon’s abrupt departure. He couldn’t believe the dumb schmuck was actually abandoning this fancy spread to go back to work, especially now that the war against crime had already been won.
    “Anyone shown him the crime stats?” he said.
    Foley shrugged.
    “He goes by his gut, and it’s been bothering him lately, whatever the numbers.”
    “Must be popular with the wife,” Gilly cracked. His own ball-and-chain was conveniently home with a migraine.
    “Not really,” Foley replied. “She took the kids and moved to Cleveland.”
    “Well, he’ll have plenty of time for visits soon.” Gilly lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. He leaned in toward the younger man. “Mayor’s dumping him in the spring.”
    “Really?” Foley was surprised by the revelation— or at least seemed to be. “He’s a hero.”
    “War hero,” Gilly said. “This is peacetime.” He poked Foley in the chest. “Stay smart, the job’s yours.”
    While he let Foley mull that over, Gilly glanced around the party. It was picking up, now that the speeches were finally over and done with. Unlike Gordon, he had better things to do than burn the midnight oil.
    Say , the