‘And you still want to talk to him?’
‘No,’ Fox replied flatly. ‘No, I don’t want to talk to him, but he may have information pertinent to the case I’m working so I’m going to do it anyway.’
‘Well,’ Ungar said, ‘it’ll take us thirty minutes to get through the security checks on the way to the high-security section, so we have that long to persuade you to turn around.’
Fox understood their concerns, because she had been through everything Kit had been able to gather on Silas Bent. Not that that was exactly a complete picture. There were no records of his birth, but he claimed to have been born in 2002 in Houston, Texas, though he had also claimed the date was 1998 and the place was San Francisco, California. His mother had been a prostitute, a defrocked nun, and a TV star who refused to own up to her son. He had never claimed to know his father. The first solid record of his existence was in 2018 when he had been arrested for sexual assault on a nine-year-old girl and, at that time, his parents had been noted as deceased, but he had claimed in his interview on INN that his mother had beaten him with a rubber hose until he was twenty-four.
What was known for sure was that he had spent a long time in the Southern Protectorate having vanished off the grid in the 2030s. It was suspected that his actual tally of victims was far higher than the seven he had been imprisoned for and that he had fully developed his criminal pathology in the twenty or so years he spent in the dustbowl and the Sprawl regions of the south. He had popped up on NAPA’s radar a couple of times during that period, both being cases of sexual assault on prostitutes, both dismissed for lack of evidence. In the aftermath of his arrest, NAPA had done some due diligence but had been unable to find either of the women involved, though missing persons in the protectorate were not uncommon.
The psychological analysis carried out prior to sentencing had been unable to come up with any distinct diagnosis of Bent’s state of mind. His story would change depending upon whom he talked to. His mother had beaten him; his mother had smothered him with affection; his mother had forced him into sexual acts he came to think of as deplorable. He had, according to him, always been a hit with the girls, but his social skills left a lot to be desired and the sexual assault charges suggested that his assertions of popularity were lies. He denied necrophilia, but met the criteria for that paraphilia. Kit had found a 1958 study by Klaf and Brown which suggested that the majority of necrophiliacs desired a partner who would neither reject nor resist them, while a significant minority had self-esteem issues. Bent appeared to fit both groups, but he had one other notable characteristic which had taken longer to be detected: he delighted in the perception of power over women.
Ultimately, Bent asserted that power by killing them, slitting their throats, and raping them while they died. However, deprived of the opportunity for that, he had enough skill at manipulation to find a way to hurt any woman he was exposed to in some other way. The psychologist who had pinned it all down had spent three months working with Bent in prison, and had then had a nervous breakdown during which she had attempted to commit suicide.
‘If you’ll pardon the unprofessional language,’ Prank said as they made their way to the interview room where Bent was waiting, ‘he’s a twisted son-of-a-bitch and I wish to God they’d ship him out to Cold Harbour and I could be done with him.’
‘We don’t normally allow women near him,’ Ungar added. ‘No female guards on his block, no female visitors allowed. Of course, he’s denied conjugal rights due to the nature of his crimes.’
‘Women want to see him?’ Fox asked.
‘You’d be amazed.’
‘It’s the redeemer fantasy,’ Prank said. ‘Hybristophilia, if you want to be technical. They think they can get him to turn around and be an upstanding gentleman, or they think there’s a lost little boy in there they can nurture. If there was ever a lost little boy in Silas Bent, Bent strangled him in his sleep.’ They stopped at the door to the interview room and Prank gave it one last try. ‘Are you sure you need to interview this guy? Are you ready for this?’
Fox closed her eyes and, briefly, saw Joshua Sandoval’s grinning face on the inside of her eyelids. She pushed the image aside and reached down into herself. Down into the black part of her mind she only used when she had to walk into battle. The Army had done the usual aggression training on Fox and it had been fairly useless. Bayonet drills, VR sims designed to provoke violent reaction, drill instructors with the temperament of a starved pit bull, they had tried them all, but the only result had been to make Fox realise that she needed to be able to submerge her own nature to do the job. She had to do it for one person, Suzy Linekar, who had died at the hands of UA thugs in 2045 and given Fox her purpose in life. Fox had learned that caring about Suzy and the other people who would follow in her footsteps meant not caring, and she had found the dark place, where the anger was.
Letting the black reach up and consume everything else, Fox opened her eyes and looked up at Prank. The psychologist let out a soft gasp and took an involuntary step back. ‘I’m ready,’ Fox said.
Silas Bent sat on a metal chair behind a metal table. There was another metal chair across from him which, like the other furniture, was bolted to the floor. Fox ignored it, examining the man as he took his time examining her. She had elected to go back to basics for the visit: bodysuit, leather jacket in battered purple, black jeans tucked into solid, heavy-duty combat boots. Bent was in the standard-issue orange jumpsuit which every prisoner wore, black epaulets marking him out as a lifer. His hands were manacled to the table, his ankles to the floor. A hobble chain ran between the ankle cuffs and a thick belt held him locked to his chair. He was not powerfully built, but there was something about him which suggested speed. Fox decided he relied on that, probably attacking by surprise and disabling his victims before they had time to react. Only two of his victims had had defensive wounds; the rest had not known they were about to die until the blood was spewing out of their necks. He was, Fox thought, an entirely average man approaching sixty, bald-headed, blocky featured, with a flat nose. But then you saw the eyes, pale and blue, and sharp, hard. There was a sparkle in them now as he saw her, but she could see the dead behind it.
‘Please,’ Bent said, ‘sit. I get so few visitors, and very few so attractive.’
Fox settled into the seat, sitting upright, hands in her lap. She saw the slight twitch at the corners of his lips and knew he thought she was nervous. ‘Do you pay attention to the news feeds, Mister Bent?’
‘No introductions?’
He knew who she was: they had had to go through official procedures to get her in and, since she was no longer with NAPA, that had included asking Bent if he would accept the meeting. Like he was going to refuse. ‘I’m Tara Meridian. I work for Palladium Security Solutions.’
‘I watch the news feeds, Tara,’ Bent said. ‘I know you do a little more than working for Palladium.’
‘I’m head of the investigation division. You’ll have noticed that someone’s taken up killing prostitutes.’
‘Undoubtedly the man who killed six of the women I was imprisoned for. I hope you catch him and then, perhaps, I can see justice done.’
‘The MO is different–’
‘More violent, more extreme, yes.’ His eyes lit up again. ‘An escalation of aggression. My belief is that he was locked up for some, unrelated, crime and has returned to old habits wound up from lack of expression. Why, he was probably in this very building for seven years. They had him and they let him go.’
‘I believe it’s more likely that this is an imitator.’
‘One of my “disciples,” Tara? The fools who follow me around like sheep?’
‘What do you know about them?’
‘Only what I’m told. I’m not allowed access to the internet. All my contacts are screened. I find them pathetic. Fixating on someone who denies most of the acts they believe show such… godlike powers.’ He smiled with a mouth full of stained teeth. ‘They are… bent in two by their desire
to emulate the myth of me and their inability to act.’
‘Bent in two… Clever.’
‘I believe Mister Bent is indicating that he does have access to the internet,’ Kit said into Fox’s head.
‘Quite possibly. We’re going to go see Vali later.’
‘He may still be reluctant to give names, and I have been unable to track anything down.’
‘I’m not going to ask for names, yet.’
‘There are the women, of course,’ Bent went on. ‘So many women see me for what I am. Misunderstood. A product of my upbringing. Once they get to know me, they come to love me. I’d certainly like to get to know you, Tara. I find you… fascinating.’
‘Which upbringing would that be?’ Fox asked, a hard edge developing in her voice. ‘The abusive mother? The rapist mother? The smothering one? The hooker who made you watch or the nurse who never had time for you?’
‘My mother was–’
‘As for getting to know me,’ Fox interrupted, leaning forward and placing her elbows on the table, ‘well, that’s not going to happen. I mean, you’re in here until they ship you to the Moon or you croak, and I’m out there in the sunlight. And, let’s face a few facts here, I am so far out of your league I’m on another continent.’ She was smiling now, amused.
‘I–’
‘I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole and full protective gear. God, I could do better than you if I trawled the Sprawl for ten minutes.’
The sudden change in attitude had Bent’s cheeks reddening. Anger replaced the sparkle in his dead eyes. ‘Bitch, I’ll–’
‘You’ll what? You’re a spent force. An impotent, useless pervert who couldn’t get a woman with half a brain to put out.’ He jerked forward, stopped an inch or so away from Fox’s face by the chains. Fox did not move. ‘And that’s another thing. I like to move when I fuck, Silas, not just twitch. You couldn’t handle it. You’d pop like a cork after five seconds and I like a man who can satisfy.’
‘You’re dead,’ Bent growled. ‘I’ll see to it. You’ll see.’
Fox got to her feet. ‘I expect you’ll have company in here soon, Silas. And people have threatened me before. Never twice. If one of your idiot followers comes after me, I’ll bury him, and then I’ll make it my life goal to get you sent to Cold Harbour. Guy like you won’t last a week up there before someone teaches you what a real tough guy is. Seriously, “covering your ass” takes on a whole new meaning.’ She walked to the door and hit the buzzer to request exit. Bent said nothing as she walked out.
‘Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone play him like that,’ Ungar said as he emerged from the observation room with Prank.
‘We’ll probably have to sedate him to get him back to his cell,’ Prank said.
‘Bigger problem,’ Fox told them. ‘Somehow or other, he’s getting internet access.’
Ungar frowned. ‘You’re sure?’
‘Ninety per cent. He was being smart about it. Couldn’t resist letting a little hint drop. If I can get something more on it, I’ll let you know, but you might want to start checking.’
‘Oh, I’ll have my techs crawl up his ass with a microscope.’
‘Eww, better them than me. Can we get the process started to get me out of here? I want to go home and take a really long, hot shower.’
‘Of course. Sure.’ Ungar started off down the corridor and Prank fell into step beside Fox as she followed.
‘You know,’ Prank said a little warily, ‘if he does have internet access, his threat could be real.’
‘I know,’ Fox replied. ‘So was mine.’
Vali’s Homestead, Niflhel.
‘You seem very relaxed, Zorra,’ Vali said as he set cups of mead down before Fox and Kit.
‘Well, I’m on wireless and my body’s in a hot tub,’ Fox told him, grinning.
Kit decided not to comment on that, but she had been through the stage before the hot tub, where Fox had spent thirty minutes furiously washing every part of herself, three times. At one point, Fox had asked for a scrubbing brush and both Kit and Belle had suggested that was unwise. ‘We have a favour to ask, concerning some of the posters on your forums,’ Kit said.
‘I went to see Silas Bent today,’ Fox said and Vali raised a hand.
‘I would be loath to give out names for my users without good reason.’
‘That’s what Kit said, and I understand that. Actually, I find it commendable, which is why I won’t ask for them.’
Vali frowned. ‘Go on,’ he said warily.
‘I believe Bent has somehow managed to get internet access. He shouldn’t have it, but he made certain comments which suggest he has. Kit will give you a full recording of my interview with him and you can see for yourself. If you agree that it seems probable, I’d like you to see if you can work out how he’s doing it, because I think he’s coming to your forums. If you can find evidence suggesting access to your servers from within Rikers, we can do something about it.’
‘That… I can do,’ Vali said.
Kit beamed at him and took a small, wooden box from, apparently, nowhere to place on the table. ‘I knew you would agree to that. This has the visual and auditory recording in it. I hope the design meets your theme.’
‘It does, thank you.’
‘If nothing else, I think you’ll enjoy Zorra’s performance.’
‘It wasn’t bad,’ Fox said, ‘even if I do say so myself.’
Vali raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’
New York Metro, 7th October.
Someone had tipped off the news channels and there was coverage of the discovery of a woman’s body in Jersey all over them. Fox’s preferred news source, IB-62, was being fairly level-headed about it, but Fox had no doubt, as she streamed the report in the shower, that there was far more sensational reporting going on.
‘INN is not too bad,’ Kit reported, ‘but IB-Nineteen has rather more detail than one might expect and is playing on the connection to the email they received. Several of the smaller channels are hyping the hysteria with suggestions that “Jack” may strike at anyone.’
Fox gave a grunt and switched to the dryers. ‘Is anyone reporting a response from NAPA?’ IB-62 had said the police were unavailable for comment, but had noted that Rutherford had been assigned to the case.
‘No. They are staying very quiet.’
‘Fox,’ Belle’s voice cut in, ‘there is a Detective Rutherford at the door demanding admittance.’
‘Really?’ Fox replied. ‘She can’t have been to bed. Let her in, and put her in the downstairs lounge. If Sam or Marie are awake, let them know she’s here and keep them out of the way.’
Rutherford was standing in front of the mock fireplace when Fox walked into the lounge and closed the door. The detective’s demeanour was dour. You could almost see the black cloud hanging over her head. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ Rutherford roared immediately.
Fox raised an eyebrow and sat down on the loveseat, crossing her legs casually at the ankles. ‘Perhaps you could enlighten me. What is it that I’m doing that warrants an f-bomb?’
‘The media leaks. It has to be–’
‘Stop right now. You either back up this assertion with some hard facts, or I set the Palladium legal team loose on you. Let me remind you that NAPA have the case files and I don’t get them until tomorrow.’
‘IA say that–’
‘Inspector Robbard?’
Rutherford’s anger stalled. ‘How did you know that he was involved?’
‘Didn’t, but it makes sense. We stung him on the Doran and Deedle murder cases. He doesn’t like me. Which is fair since I don’t like him.’
‘Well, he’s crawling up my ass about these leaks.’
‘So you thought you’d blame me? What possible reason would I have for giving the media anything about this case?’
‘Well…’
‘So you’re fishing. Going to try the Sisters next? I think you should look
closer to home. Robbard won’t like it, unless he can pin it on a cop he doesn’t like. So don’t make him pissed off at you. He’ll hang you out to dry so fast you’ll wonder how you missed the washing machine.’
‘I’m the primary on the case.’
‘And the bigger the media attention gets, the more likely it is they’ll take it off you and hand it to someone more senior. If he kills in the MCD, you’re fucked. As it is… What’s that? Five dead?’
‘Not sure,’ Rutherford mumbled. She was worried about getting the case taken off her, Fox could tell.
‘Not sure?’
‘This latest one has some inconsistencies.’ Rutherford frowned, avoiding Fox’s eyes. ‘Damn. You’re going to see the reports tomorrow anyway. This last one, the throat cut was done with a long-bladed weapon. The previous ones were precise cuts with a short blade. This one was sloppier about the abdomen cut too.’
‘Copycat. You’ve got two killers out there. If the media get that detail, all Hell will break loose.’
‘I haven’t written it down in so many words yet.’
‘You should. Cover your ass, Rutherford, even if you write it down as a suspicion. IA will have your butt in a sling if there’s anything wrong with your files, and your captain can assign more manpower. And, on the bright side, tomorrow I’ll be able to actually help properly. I’m good, Detective, and I have way better toys than you.’
‘You’re going to need them. We got trace with this last one, nothing definitive, but some. That’s another difference. The other four… It’s like this guy’s a ghost. He leaves nothing behind but a corpse.’
8th October.
‘Two things of import,’ Kit said into Fox’s head as the rush of water from the shower heads washed away sleep.
‘Of import? Someone’s been reading a dictionary.’
‘I don’t need to read one; I am one. Vali sent me a note early this morning. Username BentInTwo accesses Niflhel from a terminal in the prison. He got the terminal’s IP address and equipment ID, but that’s as far as he can go without committing the kind of illegal act which would negate the purpose.’
Criminal Minds (Fox Meridian Book 4) Page 10
