Who is the Batwoman? Three suspects emerge--all of whom have their own reasons for wanting to don the outfit. Batman must solve the mystery and convince Batwoman that they are on the same team. Before she hurts someone--or herself.
|Publisher:||Random House Children's Books|
|Product dimensions:||5.04(w) x 7.86(h) x 0.47(d)|
|Age Range:||8 - 12 Years|
Read an Excerpt
For the first time, she was really flying, and it felt wonderful.
She was circling one hundred and fifty feet above the freeway, crouched on her bat-shaped jet glider, balanced and in control.
Of course, she thought, anyone looking up would see her silhouette, dark against the haze-shrouded sky, bounce-lit by the lights of Gotham City.
"Let them watch, then," she muttered. "Let them learn to keep out of my way."
She spotted her target, a red Mack truck tractor hauling a car trailer stacked with tarpaulin-covered shapes--she counted seven--an everyday sight on the bustling byways of Gotham City.
The unusual element was the armed escort in the sleek black sedan following closely in the transport's wake.
She dropped through the sultry night air, skimming the river of noise and exhaust that was the Mid-Gotham Freeway, matching the sedan for course and speed.
Glancing down through the front windscreen of the sleek black vehicle, she could see two gangster types in the front seat: a bald driver with chest hair sprouting like weeds from an open shirt, and a gun-toting, blond goon with short, curly hair riding shotgun. They hadn't seen her . . . yet.
Through the open window of the car, she heard the driver's muffled command: "Watch your speed, Diaz. We don't need the cops pullin' you over."
Up ahead, the truck slowed until it was moving at just below the legal speed limit.
They've got cell phones, she thought. No surprise there.
She dropped even lower, practically skimming the black top of the automobile. The truck driver must have asked for directions, because she heard the sedan driver answer, "Youcross the bridge. Turnoff's a couple of miles beyond. Exit takes you toward the loading dock."
Ahead, she spotted the multiple-span beam bridge, just one of the many structures that crossed the Gotham River. Beyond that was a spaghetti-strand tangle of over- and underpasses.
"Right on schedule!" she said, and sped ahead, climbing to hover above the cargo carrier of the fast-moving truck.
Behind her, she heard the sedan driver's startled shout. "What's that?"
"Your worst nightmare," she snarled.
For an instant, she balanced directly above the rapidly moving trailer. Her cape cracked like a whip in the wind.
Adrenaline quickened her pulse. Blood roared in her ears. This was it. The beginning of what she had trained for, the task she had honed her mind and body to accomplish. Its outcome would mean life or death, for her and all her plans.
Her cape lifted as she leapt nimbly from her jet glider toward the middle canvas-wrapped bundle on the top rack of the car-transport frame. She spun as she landed, so that she was facing the rear of the trailer.
For a moment, she crouched there, making sure of her balance. Her bat-shaped jet glider rose into the air, where it would hover, out of harm's way, until she needed it.
Batglider's working like a dream, she thought. Let's hope the rest of the evening goes as smoothly.
"It's Batman!" she heard the blond goon shout. She could see the tip of his head as he leaned out the sedan's passenger window, craning his neck to get a better view.
"Close, but no cigar," she hissed.
Her crouching shape was dark gray, like Batman's. And she knew that the goon could see her cape, with its distinctive bat wing-like points. But he had definitely missed some important details.
Her cape was only knee length, much shorter than Batman's sweeping ankle-length cloak. And the bat-eared cowl covering her head differed from Batman's in design. While Batman's mask covered the top half of his face, a filmy covering completely obscured her entire head, except for the black-edged eyeholes.
The sedan driver spoke, sounding puzzled. "Wait, that ain't Batman!"
"Hold that thought!" she whispered. Still crouching, she pulled a triangular, knifelike object from a sheath on her belt and sliced through a cord binding the tarps.
She grabbed one side of the canvas and stood. For an instant, she was clearly silhouetted against the sky. Closer now, she heard the gangster voice shout, "Geez Louise, it ain't Batman! It's a Batwoman!"
"Bingo!" she said.
She flipped back the tarp. Beneath it, crates had been neatly stacked and strapped together to mimic the shape of a car.
Glancing down, Batwoman saw that the sedan had gained speed and pulled into the lane next to the truck. She caught a gleam of metal as the blond gangster pointed a pistol through the open window, aiming it in her direction.
She leaned forward, using her triangular blade to slash through the strap that bound the top crate shut.
"I got her in my sights," she heard the blond gunman shout. "Hold this freakin' car steady!"