Hunt the Hunter: Chapter 1
A/N: This story begins four days after the end of The Wonder storyline. Senator William Bracken has called his Bishop into service against Kate Beckett, who now stands alone in the nation's capital. Her only ally left is Special Agent Jordan Shaw, and she is some seven hundred miles away in Chicago. She has left Richard Castle behind in New York, their relationship in tatters. She has also left Detectives Esposito and Ryan under similar circumstances. And William Bracken is beginning the next step in his nefarious plans that ultimately will end with the White House, if he is successful. It will be up to a newly disarmed Kate Beckett to stop him.
DISCLAIMER: None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you Mr. Marlowe.
Tuesday, July 23th, in Washington, D.C., at 11:45 a.m.
It was a relatively quiet – and lonely weekend – for Katherine Houghton Beckett. She is only now coming to grips with the reality that her storybook romance with Richard Castle is actually over. She has beaten herself up time and again over the weekend for her current state of events, knowing that she has only herself to blame. Yes, she has been played, and played expertly. By Meredith, by Eric Vaughn. But in the end, it was her own doubts, her own foolishness that even allowed a crack in the armor for either to slither in and drop their poisonous venom.
In retrospect, she wonders exactly how in the world she didn't see this coming. How could she allow this to happen? Just over a year ago, she had flown into Richard Castle's arms, telling him he was all she wanted, and nothing else. Now, a year later, a job offer had suddenly vaulted itself over the writer, her lover, in importance. After hiding her knowledge of his love for her for a year, she has traversed down deception's dark road yet again, hiding her plans of a new job and a new city. And just as he had to learn of her first lie under awkward circumstances outside an interrogation room, he also had to learn of her hidden plans to move to Washington D.C., under similarly awkward circumstances with a fallen boarding pass on the ground.
Yeah, the tears spilt over the weekend were vast and voluminous. Yet here she sits, back at her new desk that seemed so damn important a couple of months ago – alone with her new reality, waiting for her next assignment. An assignment that – evidently – is getting ready to be handed down to her.
Her desk phone chatters and she picks it up on the first ring, seeing the internal call coming from her boss, Deputy Director Anthony Freedman.
"Agent Beckett," he addresses her formally. "Can you come to my office? I know it is lunch time, but this really cannot wait. You will understand why shortly."
"Certainly, sir," she responds, and he disconnects immediately. She stares at the handset for a second or two, frowns, and then stands, straightening her dark blue jacket and pants before heading out of her office. Seconds later, she is standing in front of the Deputy Director, who looks none too happy at the moment. Kate idly wonders what could be the cause of his clear discomfort.
"Kate, I will get right to it," the Deputy Director says quickly, and Kate is somewhat taken aback by his personal use of her name. It is rare that he calls her by name. His indifference to her since her arrival has taken on near legendary status.
"Please take a look at this," he says, as he pulls out a remote control unit and points it to the monitor on the wall to the side of his desk and clicks PLAY. Immediately the black screen goes blue for a few seconds.
"This video was sent to the agency this morning," he begins. "I can tell you that we traced the IP address to a small local coffee shop in Des Moines, Iowa," he continues. Kate starts mentally preparing herself for a jaunt to the Midwest, as the Deputy Director continues.
"Unfortunately, this little shop that has the wisdom to implement wi-fi technology for its customers didn't bother to add video surveillance to their budget," he mutters. "Idiots," he continues, under his breath. "Who has wi-fi but not one damn camera? They are just begging for trouble."
Suddenly, the blue screen disappears and Agent Kate Beckett's heart sinks and she releases a deep, visceral groan, as she sees the image of Scott Dunn appear on the screen.
"Dammit," Kate mutters under her breath as the talking head begins to deliver his message.
"Hello, Nikki," Dunn greets her with her pseudo alter-ego's name, knowing that he is pushing a button right from the get go.
"My, my, how I have missed you, Detective" he continues, then corrects himself, smiling maliciously. "Oh forgive me . . . Federal Agent now, isn't it, Nikki? Congratulations. I know that upward mobility often has its price. I trust that your promotion out of New York didn't carry with it undue costs, hmmm?"
Dunn chuckles, icicles really, that fall to the ground in the summer heat. Kate finds herself clinching her fists, trying to compose herself. The man really does know how to push her, already getting inside her carefully constructed barriers within half of minute – and on video tape, for crying out loud.
Freedman hits PAUSE, stopping the video momentarily. He can see the highly visible reaction of his agent, and right now he genuinely wants to know if she is up to the task. Senator Bracken is an experienced expert at this game, at the covert operation. The Senator knows that the best covert operation is one where the players are oblivious to their participation. They simply do what they do, every day, and their predictable actions are accounted for.
All to say, that is the position that Deputy Director Freedman find himself in this morning. Freedman is not 'in the know' regarding Scott Dunn's sudden appearance. Yeah, he has done his homework this morning, researching the serial killer after watching the video earlier. But he has no idea that Dunn is working for Senator Bracken. He has no idea that Dunn is one of Bracken's pieces that the Senator has brought into play previously with Kate Beckett. Yes, he knows the history Kate Beckett has with Scott Dunn. He just does not realize that this history was – in fact – orchestrated previously by the Senator. This fact is not known by Kate Beckett either.
And obviously, neither realizes that this is yet another plan on the part of the master politician.
"Are you all right, Kate?" he asks.
"Yes," she replies, regaining her composure. His words snap her out of the horrific trip down memory lane she has been freewheeling for the past few seconds. In her mind she sees her apartment blown up, Richard Castle giving her his coat to cover her nakedness as she climbs out of the protective cocoon of her bathtub. In her mind, she sees Scott Dunn standing over her with the drop on her, and Richard Castle getting off – what he admits was – a lucky shot to disarm the killer. It brings – yet again - front and center what – no, make that who - is missing in her life right now.
One Richard Castle.
"Yes, sir," she repeats. "I'm fine. Just a bit surprised. Dunn is supposed to be in jail. They should have thrown away the key. I'm just wondering how in the world he is out, free."
"Are you sure you are up to this, Agent Beckett?" he asks, now putting a more official tone into his voice. It isn't a derogatory remark; rather he is trying to snap his agent back into the moment.
"He should be in jail," she repeats, under her breath, and then, out loud, she tells her boss, "Hit PLAY, sir."
The Deputy Director nods his head and complies, and once again a voice Kate Beckett thought she would never hear again speaks to her. Immediately, he mocks her with his monologue.
"As you have probably realized by now, I don't spend much time in a jail cell. I find them tedious and boring."
His statement draws a raised eyebrow from Freedman, given that was exactly what he and Beckett were talking about just seconds ago.
"Bastard," Kate mutters, watching the video.
"And now that I am free again, it is time for you and I to play another game – a new game," Dunn tells her via videotape, with a warning.
"And Nikki," he continues, "this time it is just you and me. No extra-curricular help for you this time. Of course, your boss needs to know. I'm not completely unfair," he chuckles. "But no Jordan. Agent Shaw remains out of it, or I go killing with no clues. And no Castle. The writer stays out of it, or I go killing with no clues. And no other agents, police officers, coffee shop waiters," he chuckles again. "Any help I see for you and . . ."
He pauses for effect, smirking at the camera before he continues.
"You got it . . . I go killing with no clues. And trust me, Nikki, you want these clues. And I want to give you these clues. It's part of the game. The game is no fun without these clues. But this has to be just you and me."
Kate idly wonders just how much Scott Dunn knows. Is he telling her that his rules dictate that she can't engage her friends again from the 12th, including Richard Castle, to help? Or is he telling her that he realizes she has burned her bridges and that – even if she wanted to – she is unable to pull them into the game this time.
He continues speaking, and she snaps herself back to the present, listening intently.
"And, Nikki, this is important," he tells her. "This particular game has a time limit. Two weeks. You have two weeks to stop me and catch me before I disappear again. And – you're a smart girl, so I know you already realize this – each time you fail to stop me, someone dies."
He pauses, allowing this statement to settle in. A worried frown creases the face of Deputy Director Anthony Freedman. Lives in the city dependent on Kate Beckett and her detective abilities? The very thought troubles him. He is no fan of Kate Beckett. Oh, he doesn't have anything against the ex-detective, per se. She just wouldn't have been his first – or second – choice. But this was not his decision.
"And this isn't New York City," Dunn continues, "with a bunch of stupid tourists and nobodies, Nikki. This is Washington, D.C.. The people here are . . . sooo much more interesting. A death in New York City is mourned by their family. There is a nice little funeral," he continues, his voice taking on a small, childlike mocking tone, allowing his head to flop from side to side.
"But here in our nation's capital," he continues, his head slightly dropping and his eyes darkening, "a death here, Nikki . . . well, that can mean something. Politicians. Judges. Military officers. Young sexually active and attractive interns," he says, and he actually giggles with this last inclusion.
"So, Nikki, you're going to have to use your brain this time," he smirks. "Your brain. Not the writer's ingenuity. Not the profiler's instinct. Just you and your little, teeny, tiny, inferior brain," he mocks her, smiling all the while.
"I have six riddles for you," he says, holding up six fingers. "Six riddles, over the next fourteen days. You will get a new video for each . . . each . . . each game. Here's the first riddle, Nikki. Are you ready? Got your pen and paper?" he laughs, putting his hand over his mouth.
"First riddle, Agent Nikki Heat. Here it is. We who are about to die at dusk enter willingly into the place of emancipation."
With that, the video returns to the blue screen that marked the beginning of the message. Kate is already in thought, rushing through the initial riddle.
"He's testing me, sir," Kate tells him. "First, he will keep referring to me as Nikki," she continues.
"The character Richard Castle created for you," he acknowledges.
"Yes, sir," she tells him. "Initially, he seemed to have difficulty separating me from my fictional character. Perhaps I can use that against him again."
Freedman nods. "You said 'first'. What else?"
"The riddle, sir," Kate says calmly. "It's an easy one. A test to see how I will react."
"That's an easy one?" he asks incredulously. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around that one."
"You have to know him, how he thinks," Kate gives him. "The place of emancipation refers to Abraham Lincoln. More specifically, Lincoln's place here in D.C."
"The Lincoln Memorial," Deputy Director Freedman nods, realizing the answer now.
"Yes, sir," Kate continues. "He said that the victim will enter willingly at dusk. So we are talking about someone who isn't going to be kidnapped, or coerced. They will just be there, willingly, of their own accord, at sunset."
"So," Freedman continues, "we have some indiscriminate tourist that will enter the Lincoln Memorial at sunset. Great work, Agent Beckett. We have plenty of time to pull together –"
"No, sir," she corrects him. "Not a tourist. He went to great lengths to tell us that he and I aren't in Manhattan anymore. This is Washington. There are very important people here."
"Then who?" Freedman wonders aloud.
"Remember what he said, sir," she tells him. "He used the phrase 'we who are about to die'. That phrase speaks of gladiators. Who are today's modern day version of gladiators?
"Soldiers" he exclaims quickly.
"Yes, sir," she agrees. "Dunn is going to kill a high-ranking soldier – a Joint Chiefs officer, some other high ranking officer. Tonight at sunset at the Lincoln Memorial."
Deputy Director Freedman, for the first time since her move to D.C., considers Kate Beckett with a new set of eyes, with a newfound respect. It is the first time he gets to see – first-hand – the ingenuity of his newest agent. More, the speed in which she has come to these conclusions simply startles him. For the first time, now, he sees the adversary that his colleague – his invisible boss – Senator Bracken has warned him about.
"Impressive," he mutters under his breath.
"What was that, sir?" Kate asks him, not being able to hear his words.
"Nothing, Agent Beckett," he says officiously, returning to form. "This is good work on your part. We will pull together a small team to go with you later today to the Memorial. I will also get my staff to check for any official visits, events, press conferences – anything that is going to be held at the Memorial that would invite any of this nation's top military officers to attend."
"Okay, very good, sir," Kate states, as she stands and takes her leave. She walks out the door and he waits a few more heartbeats for before commenting out loud.
"Yes, I need to keep a closer eye on you, Agent Beckett," he nods appreciatively. "I have clearly underestimated you."