"Guess?"
Jack Kadere tilted his head, watching her with a smile.
Her performance was flawless—the hurried slip of the tongue, the frantic correction, all delivered with precision. The fleeting pain and fear in her expression, the relief when she recognized him, the subtle surprise at finding him here instead of elsewhere. Every emotion layered cleanly over the last.
No wonder she'd fooled Batman so completely.
His answer caught her off guard. She paused, then continued, "My name is Miranda Tate. I'm an ally of Commissioner Gordon and Batgirl. She went to find you—to ask for help dealing with Bane. Didn't you meet her?"
"I did. She's already gone back."
Jack chuckled and walked toward her, reaching out to pull the dagger from her shoulder.
"Then—did you agree?" A nervous hesitation threaded through her voice.
The words had barely left her mouth when she shivered. The cold flat of the blade pressed against her shoulder. It hurt. It was freezing. Fear flickered across her face, but she held perfectly still, as though paralyzed. The dagger slid slowly downward, and his other hand brushed her right shoulder.
The strap slipped free.
"Guess." He watched her trembling act, then yanked hard. The blue dress tore and fell away in his grip.
She started to cover herself, then froze when she saw how close the blade still was.
"What are you doing?" Her voice quavered.
Jack looked her over for a moment. A thought struck him: what would happen if he showed these pictures to Bruce Wayne? Would he break things off, or would he accept her anyway?
He stepped back, pulled a camera from his backpack, and started taking photos.
Her head dropped. Shame and fury warred across her features, and something vicious flickered behind her eyes.
How dare he. He's dead.
After a few shots, Jack tucked the camera away with evident satisfaction. "I want the Batmobile."
"Are you blackmailing me?" She looked up at him. "That belongs to Batman. I don't have it."
"Miranda Tate or Talia al Ghul—either one can get the Batmobile. Bring it to me, and I'll hand Barbara Gordon over to Bane. Sound fair?"
Her stomach dropped. He knew her real identity. That was impossible. No one in Gotham should know.
"Hey." Jack snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Shouldn't take this long to think it over."
She'd done her research on Jack Kadere. Gordon and Barbara both placed high hopes in him, convinced he was their best chance of saving Gotham. But he was a mass murderer—erratic, self-serving, and certainly no hero. She didn't know how he'd learned who she really was, but it sounded like he hadn't agreed to Barbara's proposal.
"You refused Batgirl's offer?" She considered him carefully.
It was also an admission.
Jack smiled. "No. I agreed to help her deal with Bane."
She laughed—wild, unrestrained—and the sound curdled into a sneer. "They pinned their hopes on you to save Gotham, and a single Batmobile bought their betrayal. Good. Let them taste despair in the middle of hope. That is their fate. That is Gotham's fate."
Her voice steadied. "They plan to move tomorrow. A young officer named John Blake will rescue the police trapped underground. Gordon will lead an assault on City Hall. If you play along, Barbara will accompany you to confront Bane. I'll act alongside you under the pretense of dismantling the reactor." She met his gaze. "Two hours from now, I'll have someone deliver the Batmobile about two blocks from here. You can retrieve it yourself. But you delete those photos."
"No deal. The photos interest me more than the car." A billionaire might shrug off losing a vehicle, but pictures of his woman were a different currency entirely.
She studied him for a long moment, then smiled broadly. "Fine. Keep them if you like."
He has to die anyway.
Once he was dead, it wouldn't matter. She'd delete them herself.
"I wonder if Bruce Wayne will enjoy them," Jack said. "I'm looking forward to his reaction." He waved lazily and headed for the door.
"And I'll look forward to yours—right before you die."
She spoke the words in a cold murmur as she watched him leave, then gathered her ruined dress. Unwearable. She found a dirty outfit nearby, dressed, and slipped out. Within the hour, she arranged for the Batmobile to be delivered to the designated location before returning to rejoin Barbara and the others.
Two hours later, Jack found the Batmobile and set to work studying it with open enthusiasm.
The styling was aggressive, the systems comprehensive. It could drive or fly, and appeared to have an autopilot function. He examined every component until nightfall, then hid the vehicle and made his way back to Harley Quinn's apartment.