Tony Marconi had been Penguin's lieutenant for eight years, which in Gotham's underworld made him practically a senior citizen. His safe house was a converted apartment above a bakery, reinforced door, bulletproof windows, and enough security cameras to run a small television station.
None of it had saved him.
Detective Vasquez stood in the apartment's living room, studying the scene. Marconi hung from a ceiling beam, the same professional knot work they'd seen before. But this time, the killer had taken his time.
"Security system was disabled from the inside," the tech specialist reported. "Whoever did this had the access codes."
Commissioner Gordon examined the cameras mounted in the corners. "All of them?"
"Every one. Footage was deleted going back seventy-two hours." The tech shook his head. "This wasn't some random break-in. Someone knew exactly how this place was wired."
Gordon looked around the apartment. Expensive furniture, artwork that probably wasn't acquired legally, a bar stocked with liquor that cost more than most people's rent. Tony Marconi had lived well.
"Any signs of torture?" he asked the medical examiner.
"Hard to say until we get him down, but preliminary examination suggests he was conscious when he was hanged. No other obvious trauma." The ME looked up at the body. "Professional work, just like the others."
Vasquez found Gordon in the kitchen, staring at an open laptop on the counter. "Shipping manifests," she said, reading over his shoulder. "Looks like Marconi was tracking cargo movements through the docks."
"Recent?"
"Some of this is dated for next week." She scrolled through the files. "Container numbers, arrival times, customs documentation. Someone was planning something big."
Gordon closed the laptop. "Bag it. And get me a meeting with Cobblepot."
"You think he'll talk?"
"I think he's scared. And scared people make mistakes."
...
Penguin sat in his office, but he wasn't the composed crime boss Gordon remembered from previous encounters. His hands shook slightly as he poured a drink, and he kept glancing at the windows as if expecting someone to appear.
"Tony Marconi was a good soldier," Penguin said without preamble. "Loyal. Careful. The kind of man who doesn't make enemies."
"Except someone made an enemy of him," Gordon replied. "Someone with access to his security system."
"You think it was an inside job?"
"I think someone's been watching your operation for a long time. Learning routines, gathering intelligence, waiting for the right moment." Gordon leaned forward. "The question is why. What was Marconi involved in that made him a target?"
Penguin drained his glass. "Shipping. Logistics. Making sure cargo got from point A to point B without complications."
"What kind of cargo?"
"The legal kind."
Gordon didn't believe him, but pressed on. "The files on his computer showed shipments arriving next week. Large containers, minimal customs documentation. That doesn't sound legal to me."
For the first time in their conversation, Penguin looked directly at him. "Commissioner, I've been in this business for fifteen years. I've survived gang wars, federal investigations, and more assassination attempts than I can count. But this..." He gestured helplessly. "This is different."
"Different how?"
"The others, they wanted territory, or money, or revenge. This one wants justice." Penguin laughed, but there was no humor in it. "He thinks he's cleaning up the city."
"You've spoken to him?"
"God, no. But I know the type. Self-righteous. Methodical. The kind of man who believes he's doing God's work." Penguin stood, walked to the window. "And that makes him more dangerous than anyone I've ever dealt with."
Gordon watched him carefully. In all their previous encounters, Penguin had been smug, confident, always three steps ahead. Now he looked like a man who'd seen his own mortality.
"Is there anything you can tell me that might help catch him?"
Penguin was quiet for a long moment. "Watch the docks, Commissioner. And when you find him... don't try to arrest him. Just kill him. Because if you don't, he'll kill everyone in this city he thinks deserves it."
"And who decides who deserves it?"
Penguin turned back to him, and Gordon saw genuine fear in his eyes. "He does."