Chapter Twelve
Alfred Pennyworth sat the silver serving tray on the table next to the Mega Computer in the Bat Cave. His employer was scanning the network looking for information vital to the Penguin.
"I say, Sir," Alfred said, "might you stop for a moment and have a bite? I've prepared your favorite: mulligatawny soup and a light sandwich."
Bruce halted his search and looked at the tray. He smiled. "Alfred, you always know exactly what I need," he said. "What would I ever do without you?"
"I've been asking myself that same question for years, Master Bruce," Alfred replied. "It was the same with your father. I suppose it's a gift."
Bruce bit into the sandwich and inwardly smiled. Alfred was amazing.
"What is this you're researching, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, intently looking at the array of monitors.
Bruce swallowed and took a sip of milk. "A theory I'm working on," he explained. "There's a rampant criminal operation consisting of gun running, or at least that what the GCPD thinks, going on in Gotham right now. I believe Penguin to be the head of it, or at least a front man."
Alfred continued to look at the monitors. Something caught his eye from one of the many surveillance cameras throughout the city. "What's that?" he asked, pointing.
Bruce looked at it closely. It was the figure of a woman standing on a rooftop, overlooking Pete's Fish Warehouse. She was clad totally in black, wearing a cape.