by Blake Pierce
Every now and then a potential lead would come to her and there would be some extra bit of information or convenience that would make her feel as if it was simply meant to be. She’d experienced it more times than she could count during her career as an agent and she felt it now, as she drove out of Richmond and toward the much smaller town of Dilwyn, Virginia. She had put away plenty of criminals in the course of her career, one hundred two to be exact, and they were scattered all over the US, in different prisons according to where they had committed their crimes in most cases.
But of those one hundred two criminals, there were a handful who had ended up in Buckingham Correctional Center. It was located in the center of Buckingham County, hidden away in a little nothing of a town called Dilwyn. Kate had visited the prison about five or six times in her career, so when she made the trip that morning it was like a little exodus back in time.
One of the men that she had taken down who ended up in Buckingham was a man named Alvin Carpenter. He had once worked out of the northeast coast as a hitman for hire. He’d had ties with the mob and an unnamed syndicate in New York. But when Kate had finally brought him down after the attempted murder of a bio-fuels engineer in 2005, he had been at work just outside of Alexandria, Virginia.
He had been silent on the names of his clients, never offering them up even in a plea bargain attempt during the trial. When two hits had been chained to him while he’d been in prison, his twenty-five years had been upgraded to a life sentence. Kate had not spoken to him since his initial arrest so she had no idea how he might react to seeing her. But she figured there was only one way to find out, and since she was no longer actively on the Jack Tucker case, she had plenty of time to spare.
She arrived at the Buckingham Correction Center just shy of 11:30, the drive vacant of traffic and taking less than an hour and a half. As she walked in, she tried to remember the last time she’d had to visit the place. She figured it had been at least ten years. She also wondered if she’d see any familiar faces and, if so, if they would recognize her own. The feeling of venturing back into her past had her looking for just about anything to latch on to, anything that might make her feel a little closer linked to that time in her career.
But as she walked into the lobby and to the visitors desk, she saw no familiar faces. In fact, she barely recognized the building at all. It had that stale yet almost astringent smell that had, weirdly enough, always reminded her of the way a post office smelled.
She checked in at the visitors desk, introduced herself, and made a request to speak with Alvin Carpenter. Because of her retirement and new agreement with the bureau, there were several hold-ups. As the woman at the check-in desk made a few calls, the weight of the situation fell on Kate. If they had to call the bureau, she’d be screwed. She had no idea how Duran would react to her still snooping into the case when he had, in so uncertain terms, removed her from it less than two days ago.
It took a while, but this worry was erased when, twenty-five minutes after making the request, she was given permission. Apparently, her name on the original arrest records of an inmate by the name of Alvin Carpenter had ended up being enough to grant her access to the prisoner.
Kate was escorted out of the lobby and down a connecting hallway that led to the prison itself. She was scanned by a walk-through metal detector and was finally assigned a guard to walk her to one of the visitation rooms.
“How has the inmate’s behavior been these last few years?” Kate asked the guard as he led her to the visitation room.
“Not much out of him, really. He’s quiet, stays to himself. He reads a lot. Lots of biographies and things like that. Not someone that really sticks out, you know?”
Kate remembered Carpenter being rather reserved. When he’d gotten his sentence, there had been no crying or wailing. He’d nodded in the courtroom and taken it like a man. She assumed that any hitman who would be willing to take the names of his clients to the grave even when several years of freedom were offered in exchange would be a resilient and almost resigned man once he was behind bars. He accepted life as it was, expecting nothing special. He’d killed people, now he was doing his time, and that was his life.
It made Kate feel like this might be a wasted trip. Would a man like that give her the kind of information she was looking for?
No use in trying to talk yourself out of it now, she thought as she was escorted into the visiting room. She took a seat at the small and battered conference table as the guard took position in the back of the room. He crossed his arms and stared at the door, apparently waiting for another guard to being in Alvin Carpenter. He then looked back at her, as if he was being extra protective. Maybe he felt uneasy with the idea of a woman her age meeting with a man like Alvin Carpenter.
The door opened a little over five minutes later. Carpenter came in first, his hands cuffed behind his back and a puzzled look on his face. He looked around the room for a moment, as if he didn’t even see her. But when he finally realized what was happening, she saw the look of recognition and then the slight smile that crossed his face.
Alvin Carpenter was in his late fifties now. His head was shaved and he wore a mostly gray beard that was closely trimmed to his face. He had that same look of calm acceptance on his face that Kate remembered so clearly from the last time she had seen him at his final court hearing.
“Agent Wise,” he said with something close to delight in his voice. “I’m not even lying when I say it’s nice to see you. This is unexpected.”
“Oh, it is for me, too,” Kate said. “You look well.”
He shrugged as he took the seat on the other side of the table. The guards both looked to Kate and she nodded. “We’re good.”
“We’ll be outside the door if you need us,” the guard that escorted her said. And with that, they exited the room.
“I do have to say,” Alvin said, “I can’t figure out why you’d visit me. You and your bureau friends found out everything—the other two jobs, all the details. I’d say I was pretty thoroughly buried.”
“Well, I’m here for a different reason. And I hope you’ll consider listening very closely and considering a request I have.”
“I’m not giving up the names of my clients,” he said.
“No, I know. I’m beyond that. This is different. Mr. Carpenter…if you had to take a guess, how many other people did you have in your network before you were arrested that were either hitmen or worked very closely with them?”
He thought about this for a moment before answering, waving his hand in a so-so motion. “Ten. Maybe a dozen. Of course, I have no way of knowing if they’re all even still alive.”
“Is there a weapon of choice among hitmen?” she asked. “Sure, you want to be quiet…that’s a given. But was there a go-to gun that you ever preferred?”
“I toyed with sniper rifles for a while,” Alvin said. “And I know it will make me sound like a monster, but I never cared for them because the target is so far away. For the job to be truly effective, I believe in being close and personal when that trigger is pulled.” A slight grimace crossed his face, as if he were being unnerved by his own choice of words. “But I always went with a Beretta 70s.”
“What about a Ruger? A Hunter Mark IV?”
He tilted his head and nodded. “A little heavy-handed for my tastes, but yes. That could go very well, so long as it was threaded for a silencer.” He smiled again and sat forward, apparently very interested. “Are you chasing down another hitman, Agent Wise?”
“I don’t know quite yet,” she said. She also sat forward, letting him feel as if she were engaged—as if she was hanging on his every word. She hoped it might make him a little more willing to cough up some information.
“Ask what you need to,” Carpenter said. “I must tell you, this is the most exciting thing that has happened to me in years. A break in the monotony. I greatly appreciate it.”
“How would someone find you? I know many years have passed since I brought
you in, so times have changed. But based on what you know, how might someone go about actually hiring a hitman today?”
“Many ways,” he said. He then sat back, his posture relaxed. She knew that he was trying to figure out whether or not to go on with it. A man like Carpenter might fear that he was getting some colleagues from his past in trouble with this sort of information. “Can I ask why you’re asking?” he said.
“I’m afraid not. And I know you’re a man of integrity. That’s why you never gave the names of the people that hired you. But I can give you my word that my current investigation has nothing to do with anyone you were ever involved with. Or, rather, if it is, it would only turn out to be a happy coincidence on the bureau’s end.”
That seemed to satisfy Carpenter. “Well,” he said, “for someone that doesn’t already have the contacts, the internet is going to be the place to start.”
“The dark web, I assume?”
“Sure, there are plenty of guys for hire on there. Actually, guys in my profession just go where they need to go on the dark web and the jobs are there waiting for them. But even most people that want to hire hitmen aren’t quite dumb enough to search around on the dark web. Instead, there are more public, more popular places. Craigslist, for example.”
“How is that even possible?”
“The ads are worded very cleverly. Or, in some cases, if you go the personals, you’ll find ads that are worded just oddly enough that it’s clear that it’s a hitman for hire or, in some cases, even people in search of a hitman. I see your look of disbelief, but it’s more common than you think.”
“I see…”
“Do you?” He paused here and sighed. “Tell me about the case and maybe I can point you in the right direction.”
Now it was Kate’s turn to be hesitant. She knew that even if Carpenter did decide to blab about it to his fellow inmates, the information would not leave these walls. But honestly, she didn’t see him spreading it. Murderer or not, she did not think he was the sort of man who would use gossip or his knowledge of current FBI cases to his advantage while in jail—if such a thing was even possible.
So she told him about the Tucker case and how it appeared that it was directly related to the Frank Nobilini case. She told him about the weapon that had been used on both victims as well as the fact that both had appeared to have been execution-style shootings. Carpenter listened intently as she gave him the details. And before she was done, she could see a slight sense of understanding in his eyes.
“You say this is in New York?” he asked.
“Yes. Both bodies discovered in alleys in Midtown, but they were residents of Ashton. Why? Do you think you have something?”
“Probably not,” he said with a shrug. “But the whole execution-style thing…that’s a bit much. A power trip, really. You want to just get in there, get the job done, and split. Taking the time to get the jump on the guy and then making him get down on his knees…that’s pure ego. Your killer is probably full of himself. Thinks a little too highly of himself. And I used to hear people talk about this one guy that worked up that way—in Queens and Manhattan, in particular. A real dick. Had a power trip for days. Clean work, good at what he did, but always taking one too many risks just to make himself stand out, you know?”
“You got a name?” she asked.
“I do, actually. But honestly, I doubt it’s his real name. He was Zeus Beringer—I think that was his last name. The name Zeus seemed fitting because he went about his work like he thought he was a god, you know?”
“You think he lives in New York?”
“No clue. But I think that’s where the bulk of his jobs were out of.”
“Did you ever meet him?”
Carpenter gave her a wry smile and shrugged. “No clue. He wouldn’t be much of a hitman if he told me his identity, now would he?”
Kate considered the information. It certainly seemed to line up with what she knew of both the Nobilini and the Tucker cases. It was the sort of information that, if she were still officially on the case, would certainly warrant the effort of locating this man known as Zeus Beringer.
“Thank you, Mr. Carpenter,” she said, getting up from her seat.
“That’s it?” he asked, disappointed. “Nothing else you need?”
She frowned, nearly feeling bad for him. This break in his monotony had been something out of the ordinary—something exciting, even. And now, less that twenty minutes after it had started, it was coming to an end.
“I’m afraid so,” she said. “But I genuinely do thank you for your time.”
He started to look irritated, but Kate turned away and headed for the door. The guard was already opening it for her when Carpenter called out from behind her.
“Agent Wise?”
“Yes?” she said, turning back around.
“While the man you’re looking for is certainly a low-life asshole, you have to consider…there was someone out there that saw it fit to hire such a man. And in the end, isn’t that person you need to be concerned about?”
Kate let the comment sink in as she walked through the doorway. By the time she returned to her car, it sat there like a heavy rock poised to fall off a cliff.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kate didn’t travel very far after leaving the prison. She drove ten miles down the road, stopped by a McDonald’s for lunch, and then pulled over in the parking lot. While she ate a very dry and flavorless salad, she called up DeMarco. As the phone rang in her ear, it occurred to her that what she was about to ask could potentially get DeMarco in trouble. And as that reality sank in, she decided to hang up.
But before she could, DeMarco’s voice was in her ear. “Agent Wise. How are you?”
“I’m…good.”
A brief silence filled the line, broken by DeMarco’s musical chuckle. “You’re still working the case, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“Find anything?”
“I think so. Not sure yet. I was hoping you could get me some information without tipping off Duran.”
“Kate…are you sure?”
She called me Kate rather than Agent Wise, Kate thought. It feels like I’m being scolded. And maybe she has a point.
“You’re right. I can’t ask you to—”
“I don’t mind,” DeMarco interrupted. “I can get you whatever you want without Duran finding out. I’m just worried about the repercussions on your end if it comes to anything.”
“I’ll be fine,” Kate said. “After all, it may be nothing.”
DeMarco hesitated, considering the options. Finally, she said: “What do you need?”
***
It took DeMarco less than forty-five minutes to come up with a list of addresses for males with the last name Beringer in New York City. There were thirty-seven in all—with an additional one hundred eighteen when alternate spellings were included—but Kate narrowed them down to the areas of Queens and Manhattan. And while there was no listing for a Zeus Beringer, there was only one listing in them all where the middle initial was listed as a Z. This was Malcolm Z. Beringer, a resident of Queens.
Had she actively been on the case, this would have been fantastic news indeed. Even if the lead turned out to be nothing at all, it was at least a solid indicator that the work she had put in today had been effective.
She plugged the address into Google Maps and winced at what she saw. From her current spot in the McDonald’s parking lot, it would take her nearly six and a half hours to drive to Queens. She’d made far longer drives in the past, but never one that would be driving directly against the orders of her director.
“What’s he going to do?” she asked herself. “Fire me?”
Hearing those words out loud helped her a great deal. So what if he did fire her? It would at least make her decision of whether or not to continue pursuing this part-time position much easier. She also knew that the alternative was that she might actually help break the case. And while Duran would no doubt repr
imand her in some way for going against his orders, it would be worth it.
Not just to find the killer, but to finally close a case that had been haunting her for nearly a decade.
That made the decision easy. The long drive really wasn’t even that much of an inconvenience. Besides…she had nothing but time to spare.
What else was retirement for, if not long spontaneous drives across the country?
***
She was fortunate enough to get into the city just behind the afternoon rush of post-work traffic, the gridlocked hell that occurred between 5:00 and 6:30. Still, by the time she pulled up in front of Malcolm Z. Beringer’s address, it was 7:02 and the drive had taken its toll. She was cramped and tired and a little cranky. She nearly got out of the car and headed straight for the door but thought better of it.
If that was indeed the address of a hitman or some other unsavory man, she had to cover her ass—particularly because she did not have the bureau’s backing. She idly wondered if there were already other agents in the area to cover the case. She made a mental note to ask DeMarco about it the next time they spoke.
Thinking of DeMarco, she pulled out her cell phone and sent her a text. I’m here. Wish me luck.
She then got out of the car and walked to the building. She saw a control panel along the front of the door. It was the sort of apartment building where you had to be rung in by the person you were visiting. Again, though, she got lucky. There was a delivery driver for Vinny’s Pizzeria walking up the stairs, carrying two pizzas toward the door. Kate bided her time, waited for him to announce himself over the intercom, and then hurried up behind him.
“Let me get that for you,” she said, taking the door as it was buzzed. She opened it, allowing the delivery guy inside, and then fell in behind him.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Thank you,” she replied.
She then took the stairs to the third floor, the address telling her that Malcolm Z. Beringer—whom she could not stop thinking of as Zeus thanks to Alvin Carpenter—lived in apartment 306. She walked to the apartment as if she belonged in the building, like she made the journey through the halls and stairways every day.