The Madonna of the Atlas
By
UCSBdad
Disclaimer: Non, je ne regrette rien. Rating: K Time: Season five and elsewhen.
Kate Beckett decided that she really didn't like Special Agent Corrine Grogan. As usual with the FBI, "cooperating" meant doing everything their way. Accordingly, they were sitting in Grogan's black Suburban with tinted windows, hoping that their suspect would show up at his girlfriend's apartment. Grogan was in the driver's seat and Castle was in the other front seat. Since Castle had been the only one to get a real good look at the suspect, that made sense. Kate didn't like it, but it made sense.
Both Castle and I went through hell before we got together. I will not let some tall, leggy, blonde, blue eyed FBI agent with big boobs make a move on my man. She thought.
For about the hundredth time, Grogan turned to look at Castle. Kate decided she really did hate Grogan. To hell with only disliking her.
"is there some reason you keep looking away from the girlfriend's apartment building, Grogan?" Kate snapped.
Grogan's head snapped back to looking straight ahead. "Not at all, Detective Beckett."
It took all of two minutes for Grogan to look at Castle again.
"Do you want to trade places, Grogan?" Kate said angrily. "That way you can look at my partner and we can have two sets of eyes on what we're supposed to be doing here."
"I was not looking at your partner!" The blonde snapped back.
"You weren't looking where you were supposed to." Castle said gently.
Perhaps because Castle had been the one to talk, Grogan seemed to relax. "My last case was a hard one. It was different. Different from anything I'd seen before. It made me jumpy. There's a solid wall on my left here, but open space to my right. I just keep checking for…something that isn't there. Something that'll never be there. I hope."
"You're an experienced agent." Beckett said. "At least that's the word we got. How bad could it have been?"
"Have you ever heard of the Madonna of the Atlas?" Grogan asked, softly.
"Is she a blonde that likes bustiers?" Castle asked.
Kate refrained from rolling her eyes, not wanting to give Grogan any kind of an opening with Rick.
Grogan shook her head. "At the beginning of the fifth century as the Roman Empire was falling apart, a group of Christians took off to hide in the Atlas Mountains in what is now Algeria. They took with them a statue of the Madonna, about two feet tall and beautifully carved. I've seen it. The detail and workmanship are spectacular. It's worth millions."
"When the Muslims overran North Africa, they killed the Christians there, but the statue was carefully hidden away. After the First World War, the French, who had conquered Algeria, found the statue. France's economy was in shambles because of the war, so they sold it to a rich American, Hamish McCleod, who put it in the McCleod Art Museum, where it stayed until two years ago. It was stolen by an American born Jihadist named Faheem Ansari who wanted to sell it to fund his jihad. He arranged to sell it to a German dealer, but the German police intercepted the statue. They didn't get Ansari. He had used a middle man for the deal and wasn't even in Germany."
"So far it doesn't sound too bad." Castle said, smiling at the blonde agent.
"We tracked Ansari to the Sahel, the part of Africa between the Sahara Desert and the jungles. I was attached to a French force, part of their Operation Serval. There were Foreign Legion armored cavalry and paratroop units, French Marine paras and artillery, French Special forces and a couple of hundred of what passes for the army of Mali. They wore bits and pieces of uniforms with civilian clothes, usually wore sandals rather than boots, and drove Toyota pick up trucks with heavy weapons in the truck bed. I don't know how the jihadis felt about them, but they scared the shit out of me."
"Must not have been the usual FBI mission." Castle said.
Grogan laughed. "I knew before I ever got there that we weren't going to just grab Ansari, show him our warrant, read him his rights and go to the nearest FBI Field Office."
Grogan took several deep breaths and looked straight ahead. Kate decided she was thinking about what happened.
"Ansari was in a little village around a small oasis off in the middle of noplace. It was just mud huts and mud walls. We came roaring out of the scrub just before dawn, preceded by helicopter gunships firing missiles and cannons. The villagers began to fight back. I think everyone in the village had at least an AK 47. But the French had too much firepower. When the infantry finally moved in, pretty much everyone was dead: Men, women and children. A saw a young boy who was on the ground, bleeding. A paratrooper went to check him. The kid sat up and shot the para with a pistol. His protective vest kept him from getting hurt, all it did was knock him over. But a machine gunner put a burst into the boy's head. I got blood and brains all over me. The boy couldn't have been more than ten years old."
"But old enough to try to kill someone." Castle said.
"I know. But I still see him….I still see him."
"Are you seeing a psychiatrist?' Kate asked.
Grogan nodded. "It helps. But it takes a long time. It wasn't just the boy. The Malians made sure everyone in the village was dead by firing an entire burst into them. They cut off heads and kicked them around like balls. They castrated male corpses and cut off the breasts of the dead women. The French just stood by and did nothing. I just stood by and did nothing. The Malians presented the French commander with what was left of Ansari. It was ghastly."
Kate put her hand on Grogan's shoulder. "I was shot over a year ago. I was a complete mess. I had a good psychiatrist to help me and an even better partner. Keep at it, you'll come out the other side."
"You know, Detective Beckett, maybe we should change places for a while."
"I think we should and please call me Kate."
In spite of the change, their suspect never showed and everyone went back to the 12th Precinct.
The next day, at the loft, while having breakfast, Castle asked Beckett what they were going to do that day.
"Luckily for us, the FBI has taken off to the wilds of Connecticut, where the NYPD has no jurisdiction. Since the FBI can't stand the thought of a bunch of local cops arresting their man, we've been stood down until they get back. All we're doing today is catching up with some paperwork. Do you want to come in and do your share?"
"My share of paperwork is zero percent, thank you. I want to do some writing today. That was quite a story Grogan told yesterday."
Kate groaned theatrically. "Oh no. Is Nikki Heat going to air assault some village to the sounds of The Ride of the Valkyries?"
Castle smiled. "Now there's an idea. Nikki could be into surfing and strips down to her bikini and gets out her board. I like it."
Kate laughed. "I love the smell of a grande skim latte with two pumps of sugar free vanilla in the morning. It reminds me of….coffee."
She kissed Castle and went to work.
Castle did a bit of research on the internet and began writing.
The Madonna of the Atlas
By
Richard Castle
TBC