CHAPTER 2 – ELIMINATE
A week had gone by, and Rick was almost beginning to think that his whole meeting with Sierra had been an alcohol induced dream. A British secret agent... But he had taken her threat seriously. Well, parts of it. He hadn't told anyone about what happened. Not that he had anyone to tell – he didn't really have friends; his mother was in LA... He only really had Sophia, and he wasn't about to tell her about what had happened. If he did, she'd only think he'd made it up. Now that they were sleeping together, they didn't seem to talk much anyway. He still followed her at work, and there was the sex, but that was pretty much all there was to it.
He couldn't seem to let go, though. It was partly that he had no one else, and partly that he was worried for her. He couldn't believe she'd done anything wrong, or not very wrong, anyway. She was loyal to her country, he was certain. And MI6 – that was Britain – what would the British want with her? She was American...
They always met at his place. It was bigger, and she liked to have some of her life that he wasn't in. She said it was for his own safety as much as for her privacy. He didn't know if he believed her, but he didn't mind – he knew she wasn't completely honest with him. They both lied for a living – he made up stories; she pretended to be someone she wasn't to catch bad guys.
He'd arranged a 'date' with her on a Friday night. He had tentatively suggested going out, but she was less keen on the idea than he was – and he did little to disguise his relief that they wouldn't have to make a public appearance.
They ended up in the bedroom with almost no preamble – Sophia even turned down a glass of wine. Rick was sure she was just using him now, but he had never had this much fun being used before. Being shallow was one of his many talents.
He didn't notice the crash of the door; they were making enough noise of their own to very nearly cover the sound.
…
The investigation into Sophia was revealing far more than Sierra had ever predicted. Working with her allies in the CIA, she had uncovered the horrifying truth about this supposedly loyal agent. MI6 had first noticed the 'odd sock' which had sparked the interest in this woman, which was the only reason Sierra was working the case. Turner had done nothing to threaten them. But this went deep; the CIA weren't allowed to investigate on American soil, and they didn't want to involve the Bureau, or anyone else unless it was completely necessary.
Sierra didn't resent cleaning up for the Americans – she felt a certain kinship with her sister agency, and she enjoyed being back in New York.
She had gathered as much information as she could, and she had been given orders this morning to ELIMINATE. She didn't revel in the fact she would have to kill a woman not so different from herself, but was comforted by the fact that Sophia Turner was a mass murderer herself.
She checked the tracker, and groaned. Turner was with Castle. She had known he wouldn't stay away from Sophia, but it was a pain that she had to perform the op with the target starting in the author's loft.
She tried texting Turner to get her out, but to no avail – her phone was probably off. It seemed her relationship with Castle was barely anything other than physical. She didn't judge – she'd had similar arrangements herself.
She was going to have to go in, though. Victor drove her to Castle's building with a smile on his face.
"Have fun," he said as she made to get out.
"What?"
"I know you're a fan. He probably isn't dressed."
Sierra cringed. She might have thought Castle was cute. Maybe. Maybe she thought he was ruggedly handsome. It was possible. But she did NOT want to see him like this. She was about to shoot his girlfriend! She didn't know what to do with him – ideally, Turner would leave with her, and Castle would never know what happened to her. He'd guess, though. He wasn't stupid. And he'd spent enough time around spies to know that someone led away at gunpoint was going nowhere good.
She adjusted the wig; she had to keep up appearances. Then she removed her weapon from its holster, attached the silencer, made a face at Victor, and got out of the SUV. She took the stairs – they were less conspicuous, and anyway, she didn't like being boxed into elevators - and broke down his door. She could hear them from the hallway – they hadn't even stopped at the crash. She was a little annoyed – she'd hoped she wouldn't have to go in to the room while they were actually at it.
Following her ears, she marched into his bedroom. She trained her weapon on Turner, who was now very aware of her presence. Castle was very stunned, and very naked.
"Get your knickers on Sophia, we're leaving," Sierra said. Rick thought he saw a hint of a smile in her eyes, but it could have been disgust. Sophia complied – she wasn't in much of a position to argue.
"Bye, Ricky," she said, winking at him as she left the room in front of Sierra.
"Wha..?" Rick said to the retreating women, but they had far too much on their minds to pay an attention. He struggled to sit up, then looked around the chaos of his bedroom. That was what you got when you messed with spooks, he supposed. Would Sierra shoot her? He had to admit he found the idea of them fighting kind of hot, but murder her? No... Sierra wouldn't do that. She wasn't that cold. Was she?
Sierra was glad Turner had been compliant. She got quietly into the SUV, and Victor began to drive them somewhere out of the way. She kept her gun trained on the other woman, wishing there was an easier way. No matter how many times you had to do it, how many counselling sessions you were sent to, you never got used to this. Especially the execution ones – Sierra was old school, she liked the idea of a fair fight. The problem was, in a fair fight with Sophia Turner, there was no guarantee she would win.
Victor pulled over. Sierra thought she saw Turner sigh. They all got out; Turner now had two pistols pointing at her.
"You need a minute?" Sierra asked.
Turner sighed. "Honestly, I thought this would have happened years ago. Let's just get it over with."
"Fine by me," Sierra said. Turner looked out over the river, the wind blowing back her wavy black hair. Sierra winced, told herself firmly that Turner was a murderous bitch, and popped two rounds into the back of her head. She arched beautifully, sailing down into the river. There wasn't even any blood to clean up.
Victor took out his hip flask and had a long swig, then offered it to Sierra. She accepted gratefully, then got back in the car. Victor drove to the hotel. Sierra would have a few days to rest before getting a new assignment. She had stayed completely under the radar, and no one would miss Sophia, so she would have no need to leave the city. She was glad – she didn't have a home, but if she had done, she would have wanted it to be here. There was something about the place...
…
Rick felt a chill run through his body as he opened his eyes. He hadn't had a dream like that in years. He ran a hand through his hair-
And felt the gun, millimetres from his head. He had just a few moments to be utterly terrified – then everything went black as his attacker hit him over the head with the barrel.
