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there.”
    â€œWon’t the guard mind us intruding on him there?” she asked.
    â€œNo guard,” Bruce smiled. They had already passed over more than a hundred different automated alarm and intruder-response systems. “Still, I wouldn’t advise you coming back for another try over the fence.”
    â€œIs that how I got in?” Amanda asked. “Climbed over the fence in my designer jacket and tailored suit?”
    â€œWell, if you did,” Bruce nodded, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to see it. Here is the gatehouse.”
    They were at the base of the enormous slope of the back lawn. The twelve-foot-tall stone fence emerged from the woods to their left and extended across the back of the property and into the woods on the far side of the lawn. The line was broken only by the gatehouse and the wide iron gate next to it, thwarting the road that wound up the edge of the woods toward the manor, which was nearly two miles distant at the top of the rise to the north.
    If Amanda heard the door unlock at their approach, she didn’t show it.
    Bruce showed her through the gatehouse and out the other side. He placed the call for the cab and then stepped out to where she was standing next to the road.
    â€œThey say they’ll be here in about ten minutes,” Bruce said. “Must be a gathering of the upper-crust somewhere in Bristol tonight if the cabs are that close.”
    Amanda nodded, then turned her gray eyes on him. “I really must see Bruce, Mr. Grayson.”
    â€œCall me Gerry,” Bruce corrected.
    â€œGerry, then. Isn’t there any way that I—”
    â€œWell, you can ask,” Bruce said.
    Remember to flash your charming smile. It’s been such a long time.
    Bruce leaned against the gatehouse, folded his arms, and nodded toward the intercom mounted next to the gate.
    Amanda gave him a “thanks for nothing” smile and stepped up to the intercom. She jabbed the button with a long, elegant finger.
    â€œYes?”
    Alfred sounds upset. He’s probably wondering why he didn’t get any proximity alarms at her approach.
    â€œI am here to see Bruce Wayne,” Amanda said.
    Bruce raised his eyebrows and nodded approvingly.
    â€œMr. Wayne is not taking callers,” Alfred’s tinlike voice replied from the box.
    â€œI have a message for him—a very important message,” Amanda said.
    â€œI shall be delighted to take the message, madam,” Alfred responded. “Whom may I say the message is from?”
    â€œIt is from me. Amanda Richter.”
    The metal box went silent for a moment.
    That’s not like Alfred. Reporters and writers trying to make their mark approach him every day, and usually a lot more creatively than this.
    â€œCould you give that name again?” Alfred said at last.
    â€œYes. I’m Amanda Richter.”
    Silence again? Did I hear stress in Alfred’s voice ?
    â€œMiss Richter, please stay where you are,” Alfred said. “I’ll be down directly.”
    Bruce continued to smile, but there was definitely something wrong. Alfred had strict orders never to greet anyone on the property nor allow them in unless they had been cleared by him personally. There were no exceptions.
    â€œIt looks like you won’t be needing that cab after all,” Bruce said.
    â€œI suppose not, Mr. Grayson,” Amanda said.
    â€œOh, and I shouldn’t have let you out through the gatehouse,” Bruce added. “If that butler catches me here, there’ll be hell to pay. I could lose my job.”
    â€œI promise not to say a thing,” Amanda nodded.
    â€œThanks,” Bruce replied. “It’s been a pleasure, Amanda.”
    â€œThank you, Gerry.”
    Bruce turned and stepped back through the gatehouse with studied casualness. He stepped back on to the grounds out the other side, registering the sound of the locks on the doors snapping closed automatically