Gordon shot the lock off the rear door. He yanked it open and—gun in hand—rushed into the trailer.

It was empty.

He stared in shock at the vacant space. There was no sign of the bomb.

I don’t understand, he thought, remembering how Miranda had confirmed the truck with the Geiger counter. He double-checked his GPS. This was the right truck all right…but it wasn’t.

“That’s impossible.”

The bomb was still out there. Somewhere. His mind raced to remember the routes of the other trucks. Clutching the signal jammer to his chest, he jumped out of the truck and sprinted for the next parallel avenue.

“Come on!” he shouted. “Cut over to Fifth!”

He was afraid to look at his watch.

He didn’t want to know how little time they had left.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

The snow was easing up a bit, but the day was still cold and raw as Blake hustled the boys out of St. Swithin’s. Older ones assisted the younger orphans, all of whom were bundled up against the winter. A dilapidated yellow school bus idled at the curb. Blake raised his voice in order to be heard over the anxious babble of the children.

“Knock on doors, spread the word,” he said, gesturing down the deserted city street. “The bomb’s going to blow! Get out by South Street Tunnel or over the bridge!” Gotham’s citizens cowered behind closed doors, unaware that time was running out for all of them. At least the kids could spread the message to folks who lived nearby—if any would listen.

As far as he knew, those were the only ways out of the endangered city. Blake wished there was time to warn more people, but that wasn’t an option. He’d be lucky to save even these orphans—unless Batman and Gordon got to the bomb in time.

“Do two blocks,” he ordered the boys. “Then get back to the bus!”

The battle raged on in the streets. Cops fought with cons and mercs, vying for control of Gotham, while Batman and Bane remained locked in combat on the steps of City Hall. Both men were intent on victory.

Defeat was unthinkable.

Batman hurled rapid-fire punches and kicks at Bane, delivering them with every ounce of strength and skill he could muster. He didn’t bother with threats or tricks or theatrics. Bane knew all the secrets of the League of Shadows. He wouldn’t be intimidated by the ominous guise of the Batman, either—and he would not stop until he had broken his foe again. One way or another, this would be their final contest.

But I’m fighting for Gotham, Batman thought. I’m fighting for life.

That would have to be enough.

A blinding-fast volley of strikes drove Bane back. Batman lunged to press his advantage, only to have a camo-colored tumbler roar between them, momentarily cutting him off. Snarling, Batman dodged around the armored vehicle and launched himself at Bane, who stood before City Hall’s wide front doors, looking as though he owned the place.