Chapter 2:
"Who wishes to fight must first count the cost"
― Sun Tzu, The Art of War
T H E N:
As soon as he's out of the hospital, his steps hurried and calculated, he knows he must act with caution and discretion.
His eyes flicker with determination as he strides across the road, pulling on the soft fabric of his newly-changed hoodie, as he covers his head promptly.
His lips stretch into a vicious smile, he ponders about Tanya's arrogance.
This wife of his made a very foolish mistake. Hasn't she learned by now that testing his patience is highly unclever?
As he paces along the sidewalk, he shakes his head, suppressing a growl. Countless times he told her, taught her, physically so, that she's his. His to love, his to strike, his to impose obedience upon.
But Tanya was rebellious. Ungratefully so. Feeding her, breeding her, shielding her was not enough. She had to seek adventures someplace else, brainwashing Connor to think he's a malfunctioning parent, along the way.
She'll pay for it. And pay for it dearly.
Connor belongs to him. He's his. Fleeing with a predator's offspring is foolish, and Tanya was both stupid and carelessly-brave for pulling this off. He gave her credit for that much.
But a punishment is in need here.
He'll track her down. Claim what is rightfully his, and rid himself of this burden of wife, once and for all.
Pulling out his cell-phone, he makes one quick phone-call.
Just making sure Trapper John won't even think of backstabbing him, or back away from their deal.
He quickens his steps.
It's time to make the final move.
Beckett sits back as she lets Captain Peterson have the lead. Biting on her lip considerably, fearfully, she dreads what's about to come.
Checking her watch every few minutes, she just barely hears as he instructs his men about the next move. SWAT teams are to go full breach as soon as they spot the robbers leaving towards the bus. Snipers on rooftops will act first thing though, taking them down so the breachers won't go all blind in.
Beckett's insides twist uncomfortably. She knows that if the plan works, the bomb-squad won't be needed, it's not supposed to go south; but just knowing there's C4 in that bank, so dangerously close to the innocent hostages, so close to Castle, gives her the chills.
The homicide detective cannot escape the feeling that there's something they're all missing. Bringing C4 to a bank robbery? An old lady's deposit-box is right in the middle of this gut-twisting plot?
What is going on here?
As her phone chimes she answers it quickly, Esposito's voice sounds bothered- "Agnes didn't have any relatives left," he says once she informs him of the monthly access to the old woman's deposit-box, "Her husband's dead, he daughter and grandson died on a boating accident over a year ago," approaching Ryan, their gazes travel across the small apartment.
Beckett releases a frustrated sigh, and Ryan interjects thoughtfully, "Only survivor left is her former son-in-law, Ron Brandt. We left a message; we haven't heard back yet, Beckett."
This is not at all what she wishes to hear. As her eyes wonder to Peterson, whose still busy throwing instructions, she knows she's starting to lose it.
Thinking about Castle and Martha, held in the hands of those psychopaths, of Alexis, eager to hear good news, of herself, that the mere thought of Castle in danger gives her the creeps, she can feel herself cracking, "Look, we don't have time to wait for return phone-calls," she concludes impatiently, "So find him!...-"
The universe around her shakes to its core.
Gulping loudly, she pushes the phone away from her ear, the world abruptly standing still; she can hear Esposito's urgent voice, asking her what was that, and was that an explosion, and what is going on?!
But his voice is a muffled sound, somewhere in the backg of her mind. Her entire world shrinks to the acknowledgment of what just happened.
An explosion.
Explosion that shakes her world, as her heart thunders in her ears; her very soul screaming with denial and distress.
She hardly recalls moving forth, opening the door of the mobile command center, Captain Peterson right behind her, obviously as shocked as she is.
Chaos.
That's the only way to describe what she's seeing.
Rubble.
Dust.
Shattered glass.
And she's numb. Frozen. Speechless.
Firemen, SWAT teams, and police officers struggle to find clear vision through the rubble and smoke, as they full breach inside.
And Beckett is petrified.
The universe moves forth but she's stuck. Her brain commands her legs to move, her hands to pull out her gun, she has to get a grip now. But she finds it so hard to just….breathe.
Castle is in there.
The explosion shook the entire street…And Gosh, was that beautiful.
'The Marker' grins bloodthirstily as the voices around him rise in volume.
He knows that's his cue.
Stupid cops, didn't they know they deal with the best?
Chuckling amusingly, he presses the gas, and he knows Trapper John and the doctors are to step right outside.
They get the cash, Brandt gets the package. That was the deal. Shouldn't be that complicated, right?
He pulls out his cell-phone, knowing the explosion is their sign to bail. Writing a message, he taps quickly, "We're all set?"
The street is blissfully relaxed, as the cops' main action is in the bank itself, no one spots the suspicious vehicle parking just couple of miles away.
A feeble 'Beep' is his answer, and he pulls out the cell-phone to read the message, "Get ready" the message states simply.
'The Marker' smiles. Perfect.
As soon as he's about to stuff the phone back to his pocket, another message is sent, and reading it, his smile broadens-
"We took some precious loot."
Beckett's eyes glisten with stifled tears, burn from dust and smoke, as she and the SWAT team stumble across the pavement, guns in their hands, determined look on their faces.
Beckett can feel herself shaking uncontrollably as they make their way inside. All she can think about is 'Please be ok, please be ok, please by ok!'
Her distressed heart calls to its other half, as she cries hoarsely, "Castle?"
Her own voice is unfamiliar to her. Trembling. Unstable.
'Where is he?' she thinks as her gun points forward, she focuses on nothing, nothing but find him and making sure he's ok. Complete. Safe and sound.
Find him.
Find him, find him, find him!
"Castle?" she calls again, her tone desperate, she knows, but cannot care less at the moment.
Where are you? She doesn't see anything! "Castle!" she calls again, her voice rising, battling with sanity.
It's not only her, though, who wonders.
Peterson, she can see him now, next to him is Roman, she think that's his name, on the right is Billups, his eyes wide and his gun held tightly in his hands, but no…nothing.
Nothing.
As she keeps calling him, his name slips from her lips over and over, she leans forward, pushing irritating obstacles away, her eyes trying to adjust to the endless abyss around her.
They split across the room, the not so much large space, and the bad feeling in her heart settles much deeper in her core, filling her entire being.
Fading voices fill their surrounding, as they smoothly move across the room, and a hesitant, taken-aback voice suddenly echoes- "Sir?"
Officer Monfriez, Beckett thinks, as he suddenly appears out of the suffocating fog, eyes wide in surprise and bewilderment, "They're…gone, sir!"
Beckett feels she's about to pass out, and Peterson is all but amused, "What?!" he spits angrily.
"They're gone, Sir!" Monfriez repeats, puzzled, "The 'Doctors', the hostages? They're not here! Not single one of them! They just….vanished!"
A/N- So…..What do you guys think?
