Redemption
The past few years I have wanted to create an entry into one of the Castle Ficathons but after the end of the show I feared that I would never get another chance to enter. But a few weeks ago I saw that there was going to be one this summer so I got to work.
I know that I have a couple of open stories that need finishing, and I surely intend to do just that, but I wanted to do this first.
This story is inspired by the wonderful works of Swordwriter, Lord of Kavaka, Perfgen, Perspex, Pen2Paper and countless other wonderful writers.
This story is inspired by the show Strike Back which I watched the first couple of episodes a number of years ago. I never finished the series so I will deviate from the story line rather quickly.
Lahore, Pakistan
A static-filled picture came upon the monitor of a Caucasian male being dragged into view. He was forced onto his knees in front of a black flag with Arabic writing breaking up the background. A rifle violently forced his chin upward, his eyes locking upon the camera that was being used to broadcast the entire ordeal. His eyes darted to the cue card with the lines his captors had written for him to read.
"My name is John Sinclair and I am being held by the Arabic Freedom Fighters for crimes against Allah. The west has spent too many years as aggressors, attempting to take our resources from our people. The Americans and British infidels have imprisoned our brother freedom fighters; in exchange for my life the AFF want the immediate release of their comrades from the unlawful incarceration."
In a darkened alley outside a nondescript building a team of soldiers were stacking up for a breach when the commander received communication from Command Central. "Beckett, report."
"Stacked and ready, sir, awaiting orders," the strike leader replied.
"Mission is a go," a smooth voice ordered.
"Rodger that!" The team leader turned to the team. "Breach!"
Immediately two soldiers came forward with a battering ram and slammed the door just to the left of the locking mechanism, rendering it useless. The team leader's boot slammed the door at the spot where the ram had just hit and the team hurried into the building.
They were thankful that they had night-vision goggles on this mission as the building's breakers all seemed to be off. The team made its way around the first corner and encountered two hostiles who were quickly dispatched with the silenced burp of MP-5s.
The team continued deeper into the building encountering a few more fighters all too willing to die for the cause; the team leader was more than willing to acquiesce to their desires. The team made it to a set of stairs that apparently led to the basement.
"Demming, you're the tail gunner; cover our six," Beckett commanded in a gruff voice while the team headed down the stairs. Upon hitting the basement they quickly cleared the room with ruthless efficiency.
Beckett moved to the center of the room where the flag seen earlier laid crumpled on the cement slab of a floor. "Command, we're too late."
Colonel Roy Montgomery turned to his second-in-command, Major Victoria Gates. "Just where did this intel come from?"
"The British," the petite African American woman replied.
Montgomery's eyes returned to his team leader's heads-up display and he watched as she inspected the room. He carefully observed as she stopped to view the area where the camera appeared to have been set up.
"Beckett, does this look strange to you?" Montgomery inquired.
"Yes, sir! I think he was here but they moved him quite a while ago."
"I concur. Let's wrap this op up and get back here. There's a C-130 waiting for transport," the colonel advised.
"Rodger that, sir," Beckett replied. "Okay team, let's search for anything of importance – hard drives and such – and get the hell out of here."
A new voice broke the silence of her earpiece. "Beckett, I found a map and phone on one of the deceased up here."
"Roger that, Demming, I'm on my way…" Her transmission was cut short by the sound of gunfire coming from the floor above.
Xx
Tom Demming found a phone and map on the body at the top of the stairs and called it in to Beckett. As he finished his report to Beckett a hot piece of lead ripped through his throat, instantly dropping him to the floor.
At the sound of gunfire Beckett bolted for the stairs taking the flight two steps at a time, her team hot on her heels. When she reached the top of the stairs she drew her rifle up to sight and cleared the room as her second-in-command, Javier Esposito, rushed to Demming who was gasping for air.
Beckett raced for the entrance that the team had breached earlier. When she cleared the door to the alley her eyes searched for any signs of an adversary. She saw a male in a kandora – a long white robe – running down the street with an AK-47 dangling from a strap on his shoulder. When he looked back his eyes grew large as he saw a soldier draw a bead on him.
Beckett's MP-5 coughed twice and the rounds lodged in the back of her prey, immediately dropping the target to the ground. She stalked toward the downed man, her weapon never leaving her shoulder, prepared to fire at an instant. Once she reached her victim she kicked away his weapon before checking his vitals. When she realized he was dead she checked his pockets and found what appeared to be the map and phone that Demming had called in.
The sound of footsteps broke her concentration on the young man she had killed. She turned to find Esposito shaking his head and she realized that she had lost Demming. "Dammit!"
"Kev has the deuce and a half parked by the door and LT and Hastings are loading up Tom."
"Thanks, Sergeant, let's get him home."
Xx
The colonel and major sat behind a desk reviewing the after action report that the team leader and her second in command had submitted. The colonel looked up at his team leader and spoke. "Okay, I can read between the lines of this report. So, off the record, what do you think?"
"It was a clusterfuck, sir!" Beckett replied while standing at attention the required eighteen inches in front of a superior's desk.
"You're out of line, Captain!" Major Gates interrupted.
"It was a total CF, Major! And if you had any time in the field instead of behind this desk you would think so also!" Beckett retaliated, not fearing for one moment that she would be reprimanded by the colonel.
"AT EASE! The both of you! Elaborate, Beckett," the colonel said trying to ease the tension in the room.
"Bad intel, poor planning, and even poorer execution." Beckett looked at Gates and could see her agitation level rise; she continued before Gates could speak. "With all of that said, the mission should have been a go. There is no way we should leave anyone, let alone a man like Sinclair, to the mercy of the likes of the AFF."
The colonel looked at Sergeant Esposito. "Sergeant, your two cents worth."
"This was a total CF, sir." He wasn't willing to use the full phrase in the presence of a superior officer. "And I agree – we should have done everything to bring our man home."
"Esposito, you're dismissed. Beckett, you stay, we need to talk with you."
Esposito saluted, about-faced and headed out of the fishbowl, so called because the office walls were made of glass.
Montgomery handed Beckett a file. "Tariq got the best of us today, but we will get him. That was Sinclair's phone you brought back. The only calls on it were to Jakarta."
"Jakarta?" Beckett parroted.
Gates pointed to the file. "Yes, he made numerous calls to one number."
Beckett opened the file and was staring into the eyes of the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen. Her eyes searched the page for this man's name. She found it, Richard Castle, nice name. But what shocked her more than anything was the wording of the red stamp over his name. Dishonorable Discharge.
"Go retrieve him by any means necessary," Montgomery ordered.
Xx
The room was glowing red from the neon lights outside the window but that didn't bother Rick Castle, not one bit. When he closed his eyes to sleep he was out immediately, nothing bothered him. Nothing except a threat, that is. He had an innate ability to recognize a threat in his sleep and awake alert and ready for action. That's what made him so good in the field.
But tonight he couldn't fall asleep even though the woman lying next to him had done her best to wear him out to the point of exhaustion. He slowly lifted Nisa's head and extricated himself from the bed, moving to the door leading to the balcony of his rented room. For the past six months he had been spending his nights with Nisa. He'd hired her from the whore house downstairs one night and she never left.
A noise came from the hallway. He was reaching for the Berretta on his night stand when his door burst open. A scream came from the woman in his bed as he racked the slide back on his weapon.
"Rifqi, what in the hell do you want?" Castle demanded as he placed his weapon back on the nightstand.
"Ricky, I just want to tell you how much I have riding on this fight. I have set you up as the unbeatable American and I have bet the house on Igor. I want to make sure you understand what I have at stake," the short balding man in the Hawaiian shirt with the two henchmen behind him, said in an unusually high-pitched voice.
"I got it. Just tell the Russian to not to hit me in the nose. If I have to lose to him, I damn sure don't want a broken nose as well."
The little man patted Castle on his cheek. "It looks like that beak has been broken a few times. What's one more?"
"I mean it, Rifqi. Tell him to stay away from my nose."
Xx
Castle had just taken the third blow to his nose. "Igor, lay off the nose!" he yelled across the pit he was in. Castle dusted off his chest and moved in and caught another fist to his nose. "Igor, lay the fuck off my nose," he said through gritted teeth as he landed a blow of his own.
Igor landed a straight right to Castle's nose, knocking him to the ground while splitting the bridge of the said nose. Castle watched as Igor raised his hands in victory while he took a seat in what passed for a ring corner in the little sliver of hell. "Dammit, Rifqi tell him to lay off the nose!"
A smile came from the aforementioned man and Castle knew that his nose would get no reprieve from the pounding it was taking.
He looked up the second balcony surrounding the pit seeing the usual spectators lining the rail. The men were dressed in what they must surely think made them look like an American gangster, and the women were all wearing different versions of the little black cocktail dress.
Every woman but one. There was a tall brunette who appeared to be an American wearing jeans, a tank top, and combat boots. But what struck him was the smirk on her face, like she knew something that no one else in the room did. She winked at him and moved away from the rail, apparently heading for the door.
Castle stood and called to Igor. "Last chance, Ruski, hands off the nose." A grunt was all Castle heard in response. As they met in the center of the pit, Igor landed a punishing blow to the side of Castle's head and he followed it up with a jab to the nose.
Castle had had enough. He threw a right cross to Igor's abdomen and after Igor bent, doubled over, Castle buried his knee into his opponent's nose. Igor's nose exploded in a mist of blood. Castle didn't let up the attack; he landed a quick combination to Igor's head which staggered the big man. Castle looked over at Rifqi letting him know this fight was over. He turned back to the Russian and landed a spinning heel kick that stole the consciousness from his opponent.
Then he sprinted out of the pit and headed for the back door.
When he arrived at his hotel he had to make his way through the whore house that occupied the first two floors. He entered his room, quickly stripping off the sweaty clothes he was currently wearing. As his boxers hit the floor he heard a throat clear from behind him.
He turned to see the woman from the fight staring at him. "Impressive," she said, cocking an eyebrow. "But I don't think I have the time to do anything with it and you surely don't."
She moved like a feline stalking her prey, her hands occupied with the cup of coffee she had made before he had arrived. "It was a good fight; well, after you decided to actually fight, that is."
Castle was steadily shoving clothes into a small gym bag. "Yeah well, it wasn't supposed to end the way it did. And just who in the hell are you?"
"Captain Kate Beckett, Army Counter Intelligence; I'm here about John Sinclair."
"He's a good soldier," Castle said, pulling up a pair of jeans forgoing the need for boxers.
"He's dead, killed by Tariq Muhammed." Beckett placed the coffee cup into the most disgustingly dirty sink she'd ever seen.
"That's a shame, but what does this have to do with me?" Castle nervously looked out the door into the hallway.
"You're the last living person who can identify Tariq."
"It'll cost you," he said, zipping the bag.
"He was your friend."
"In case you haven't noticed, this isn't exactly the Waldorf." He pulled a Henley over his head, covering the washboard that defined his midsection.
Before Beckett could answer a woman burst into the room. "Ricky, Rifqi is on his way!" Nisa saw Beckett leaning against the sink. "Who is this bitch?"
"Just a friend. I have to go now, Nisa." Castle pulled her into a searing kiss. "I'll be gone a while."
"Ricky, take me with you," she cried.
"I would love to, but you don't have a passport." He knew it was a weak excuse and by the stifled laugh from Beckett, she knew also.
Everyone in the room knew except Nisa. "How will I get in touch with you?"
"I'll friend you on Facebook," he replied, leading Beckett out onto the balcony.
"You do that!" Beckett heard as she followed him. They got to the end of the building when they saw Rifqi and five of his men entering the building. Castle looked over the edge of the balcony and saw two of Rifqi's men standing guard. He turned to Beckett and handed her his bag. "Here hold this." He then leapt over the rail, landing on the henchman nearest the truck they came in. He was landing blows and getting the best of the guard when another came out of the building with a gun drawn.
"You have got to be shitting me." Beckett threw the bag over the rail and leapt onto the gun wielding adversary.
With the addition of Beckett, the thugs were quickly dispatched. Beckett saw a KTM dirt bike across the street. "Come on Castle." She got to the bike, righted it and raised the kick stand. "Get on," she yelled.
"No, I'm driving," Castle retorted.
"The hell you are!" she fumed.
"Do you know your way around this city?" She shook her head. "I didn't think so. Now get on the back and hold on." He just couldn't help himself. "Sweet cheeks."
Who knew she hit harder than Igor? "Dammit, lay off the nose!"