Chapter 310: The Three Detectives (9)

Constantine slowly raised his hands, even though he knew the point pressed against his back was merely the tip of an umbrella, he did not move.

He tilted his head back toward the ceiling, attempting to lean further backward to see who stood behind him, but then the umbrella struck his shoulder—he cried out in pain and turned to face Schiller.

His gaze held confusion, as if he did not understand why Schiller had retracted the umbrella; Schiller, while tidying the umbrella, said: "Batman and Gordon won't find this place anytime soon. Since no one else is here, we can stop pretending."

"Tell me, what are you really doing in Gotham?"

Before Constantine could speak, Schiller pulled a small vial from his pocket and tossed it to Constantine, who caught it in his hand and held it before his eyes, studying the ingredient label; after one glance, he smiled and said: "This is good stuff—looks like we're kindred spirits…"

He twisted open the cap and eagerly poured several pills into his mouth; as Schiller walked toward the table in the basement, he said: "You don't need to hide the pills in your sleeve—they're not poisoned, just ordinary painkillers."

The two reached the pool table in the basement; Constantine feigned nonchalance and said: "I just thought this conversation wouldn't be best conducted while I'm high."

"Then give the pills back—they're good stuff, and more importantly…" Schiller sized up Constantine, his tone implying something unspoken: "... hey work fast."