Thank you all for all the wonderful comments on the prologue! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter just as much as you did the last one...
He had always loved Times Square. There was an energy to the place; standing in the middle of the "Crossroads of the World" always made him feel like he was standing in the middle of the beating heart of the world's greatest city. From the first time he had been allowed out of the house on his own, he had felt like he could sit near the TKTS building and just watch the world go by. For hours on end.
But now? Now he loved Times Square even more. Every time he brushed up against somebody he learned everything about them. Their name. Their spouse's name. How many kids they had. And while experiencing the days that those kids were born could be considered an...unpleasant side effect, the fact that he also remembered every one of those brat's social security numbers...well, that almost made up for it.
He was going to make a small fortune.
On second thought...he was going to make a very *large* fortune.
He took his lucky stone out of his pocket, kissing it and rubbing the odd engravings for what must have been the thousandth time since he had found it washed up by the Central Park reservoir a week earlier. He had no idea why the stone had caught his eye that day or how the stone connected to his new found good fortune...
But the last thing he was ever going to do was look a gift horse in the mouth. Even if the horse was a 2-inch rock with stars carved on it.
Ryan paced the halls of the hospital emergency room, waiting for his two teammates to arrive. He kept anxiously checking his watch as he cautiously studied the hive of activity going on around him. When his fellow Guardians finally arrived, it was clear that Ryan had no particular fondness for either of them...or whatever excuse they were planning to come up with. "You're late. Again."
"Sorry," Lanie apologized as she fixed her hair. "We, uh...we ran into traffic."
"Uh huh," Ryan countered warily. He quickly smiled, though, forgiving his friends easily. "Look, guys, I get it. I was a newlywed once too, y'know. But next time you start getting tempted to take a couple minutes, just remember that the longer you take, the more likely I'll be to want to put your husband in the middle of Times Square with a 'free hugs' sign around his neck."
"Okay, okay," said Esposito, blowing off his parnter's teasing threat. "So what d'we got?"
Ryan turned to head toward the bay where their victim was waiting. "Name's Monique Windstock. She was brought in unconscious, showing burns on the neck and chest that suggested that she had been electrocuted. But there'a just one problem with that theory..."
Esposito completed his partner's thought immediately. "She's still alive?" Ryan nodded.
"Another wizard victim?" asked Lanie. Ryan nodded again. "And Castle and Alexis..."
"Both accounted for," Ryan replied to Lanie's unasked question.
The trio walked into Monique's emergency room bay and closed the curtain behind them. Closing her eyes to focus her concentration, Lanie touched Monique on her bare calf, instantly entering an examination trance. "The damage to her body is consistent with severe electrocution," she announced as she pulled out of the trance. "She *should* be dead..."
"Except that she was attacked by a wizard," said Ryan.
Lanie nodded. "Just give me a couple of minutes," she suggested. Closing her eyes, Lanie went back into the healing trance as soon as she touched Monique's ankle. "Okay, I repaired enough of the damage that you should be able to get her memories now..."
Esposito recognized his cue. He took Monique's hand, flipping through her recent memories until he found the one he was looking for. "We've finally caught a break with this one," he told his fellow Guardians, "she saw her attacker."
"Let's get back to the warehouse," Ryan suggested to the group. "We can run an artist's sketch through facial recognition, see if anything pops."
His two partners nodded in agreement. The trio turned to leave, and opened the curtain to find a nurse staring at them. "Can I help you?" the nurse asked sternly, clearly annoyed at seeing three strangers in the room with her patient.
Ryan, Lanie and Esposito each produced a badge for the nurse's inspection. "Homeland Security," Ryan announced, not bothering to give their names. "We needed to ask Ms. Windstock some questions about the man who attacked her this evening."
"Well you're not going to get any answers out of her any time soon," the nurse insisted. "I'm here to take Ms. Windstock up to intensive care. If you'll excuse me..."
"That's all right, ma'am," said Ryan, blowing off the nurse's objections. "We've got everything we need. We were just leaving."
The nurse watched, bewildered, as the three Guardians filed past her and left the Emergency Room. How could they possibly have gotten anything out of this woman, thought the nurse, it's going to be weeks before she even wakes up, if she wakes up at all...
When Monique Winstock opened her eyes with a groan, all thoughts of suspicious agents were brushed aside in favor of treating their latest 'miracle' patient.
The warehouse bullpen didn't have much: a half-dozen desks, a couple of coat rack trees, a dry-erase wall to use as a case board, and an exact duplicate of both the 12th precinct coffee maker and Castle's beloved espresso machine. It was starkly lit, it was often empty, and it was just too quiet most of the time. And yet, for a team full of people who received most of their training in law enforcement, it was often just the place for the Guardians to get their thoughts in order during a particularly tough case.
As Ryan and Esposito opened the door to their bullpen, the case wall was filled with information on their three previous wizard attack victims. Ryan started to tape up the pictures of the latest attack, along with a copy of the artist's sketch based on Esposito's memories. He then sat on the edge of Castle's desk, staring at the board to see if the newly collected pieces did anything to pull the puzzle together.
The other Guardians found Ryan in this position when they entered the room fifteen minutes later. "Any luck?" asked Beckett.
Ryan shook his head. "None. Four attacks and I still can't find any connection between our victims."
"Except that they survived being attacked by a wizard," said Castle.
"And we know that you and Alexis *aren't* the attackers," Esposito added, "because you both have alibis for two of the attacks."
"Which means someone got flipped," said Ryan. "But who? And how?"
Esposito sighed, sharing his partner's frustration. "We figure out the common thread between our four victims, we'll probably find that wizard."
"Or," a voice suggested at the doorway, "we could go after the wizard who attacked Monique Windstock." The Guardians looked over to see Director Fallon standing just outside the bullpen, holding a piece of paper. "Facial recognition just came back," he told them. "His name is Thomas Al-Jawari. Homeland Security's been tracking him for almost a year. We knew he had been looking to hook up with a terror cell...but three months ago he just dropped off the radar."
"And the attacks began shortly after that," said Castle.
Fallon nodded. "Let's bring him in. Even if he's not the source of the problem, maybe he can point us to it."
The corner of 54th Street and 9th Avenue was not a place where anyone would want to congregate under the best of circumstances. And under other circumstances...under the worst of circumstances the best thing about the neighborhood was that the hospital two short blocks away.
Five people meeting on the corner of 54th and 9th to study the comings and goings at the nearby apartment building might have been something that people would have found suspicious. If anyone had been able to notice them at all. Okay, Ryan projected into the group's mind-link, do we have any idea what power level we're dealing with here?
Besides the energy attacks? asked Esposito.
Beckett stretched her hearing out as far as she could. I don't hear him conjuring anything, she told them. Maybe all he can do is throw lightning...
Castle studied his fiancée, surprised by her comments. How can you tell?
There's this whooshing sound that happens when you make something appear out of thin air, Beckett replied. It's real quiet, even for me, but it's always there, and I haven't heard it in Al-Jawari's place since we got here.
Doesn't mean we're not dealing with a teleporter, Fallon insisted. Can you stop him from getting away if he tries?
Castle nodded. I have a new shield spell I've been testing. It should do the job.
All right, Fallon announced to the group, then let's get this guy. The team crossed the street and walked through the entrance to Al-Jawari's building, stopping only long enough to let Castle magically 'pick' the lock on the door. The group quietly climbed one flight of stairs, getting into the hallway so Castle could familiarize himself with the building's layout, then the wizard blinked his team to the sixth floor.
Once the team materialized at their destination, they assumed their positions in a quiet hurry. Beckett and Fallon moved to one side of the door to apartment 6F, while Ryan and Esposito flanked them on the other side. Castle stood square to the doorway, focusing his energy on what he needed to do. Our guy's definitely in the apartment? When Ryan and Beckett both nodded, the Sìfāng whispered the first words any of them had spoken since the beginning of the mission. "alligaveritis Huius cubiculi..." A blue flash of energy surrounded the apartment, then disappeared as the front door unlocked with a soft click. I can't go in now, he announced through the mind-link. Nobody's powers will work in that apartment for the next hour, which means shields won't work.
But he can't get away either, right? asked Esposito.
When Castle nodded, Fallon started the count through the mind-link. 3...2...1...Go!
Ryan opened the door and the four members of the team quietly filed in to the apartment to surround Al-Jawari, who was sitting on his couch, watching TV. "Can I help you?" he asked the group, without getting up.
"Thomas Al-Jawari?" asked Fallon. It wasn't a question anyone expected an answer to. "You need to come with us. We need you to answer a few questions."
Al-Jawari laughed loudly. "You expect to just walk in here and have me walk out with you even though I have no idea who you are and none of you are carrying weapons? Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?" He flung his hands casually up over his head, expecting the four people around him to collapse, twitching in spasms after being electrocuted.
Nothing happened.
Al-Jawari stood up, confused. He flung his hands up again, watching for any reaction from the four other people in the room.
Still nothing.
Fear shot through Al-Jawari, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. He flung his hands up one more time in a futile effort to do *something* before his hands were forcibly pulled behind his back and surrounded by handcuffs. "My God," he gasped out in amazement, "who the hell are you people?"
Castle smirked as the members of his team escorted Al-Jawari out of the apartment. Not one to resist an opportunity, the Sìfāng pulled a pair of dark Ray-ban sunglasses out of his pocket. "Just call us the Men in Black," he said.
Before all six of them disappeared.
The first time that Castle and the detectives at the 12th Precinct had met Mark Fallon, he had not made a good impression...primarily because of his rather aggressive interrogation techniques. The consensus opinion at the time was that Fallon's angry, violent attitude was ineffective at best and often turned potentially valuable assets into sworn enemies after a single round of questioning.
Now, though...the Guardians were starting to appreciate the source of Fallon's old attitudes. The group studied the sullen figure sitting angry and silent in Castle's training-room-turned-interrogation 'box'. "Has he said anything since we left him in there?" asked Beckett.
"Nope," Fallon replied, "don't expect he will, either."
"Do we really need him to?"
"Not when it comes to finding out who he works for," Castle volunteered as he joined the conversation, "but we need to find out what he's capable of. And for that...we might need him to be willing to at least work with us."
Beckett considered Castle's words carefully. "What *are* we going to do with him? He's tried to kill three people. His body's a weapon now. It's not like we can just throw him in the general population after we're done with him."
"The only real problem would be if he were a teleporter," countered Fallon. "And if he had that particular talent we would have discovered it by now..."
"Because he would have already tried to get away," Castle agreed, completing Fallon's point. "I haven't bound that room yet. If he knew he could teleport, we wouldn't be watching him right now. We'd be looking for him again."
Ryan and Esposito joined the rest of the group watching Al-Jawari in the box. "So what's the plan?" asked Esposito.
"I definitely think you should go in the box, Master Xiānshī," Fallon replied. "My only question is who to send in with you. Master Mùshī, can you work on his thoughts from out here?"
Ryan nodded. "Not a problem."
"Then Master Sìfāng should go in with Master Xiānzhī," Fallon decided. "We need to find out if Al-Jawari has any other abilities beyond basic energy manipulation. Master Mùshī, can you provoke him, try to give him ideas?" Ryan nodded again, and the Guardians worked to put Fallon's plan into action.
Castle and Esposito walked through the coffin door to face their suspect. "Mr. Al-Jawari?" asked Esposito, not really expecting an answer. "Do you know why you're here?"
Ryan used his memories of Al-Jawari's capture to copy his voice. Zap 'em, he projected into their suspect's mind, they deserve it.
Al-Jawari took his 'own' advice, firing energy bolts at the two men in the room with him. His eyes widened as the energy dissipated harmlessly, absorbed by the shields Castle had projected. "Who are you people?" he asked, his voice starting to tremble with fear. "What the hell is this place?"
"We'll get to that," Esposito replied with a casual smirk. He casually walked behind Al-Jawari, squeezing the man's shoulder as he leaned in close to the man's ear. "We know who *you* are, Thomas. What you wanted to do. How you tried to kill those women..."
Al-Jawari's thoughts hung, dumbfounded, on Esposito's last sentence. "*Tried* to kill? Y-you mean they're still alive?"
Castle nodded, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. "You mean you didn't know? Wow..."
Oh man, this is bad, Ryan projected into Al-Jawari's mind. I mean if they lived then they can identify me and then...I gotta get out of here...
The planted panic worked like a charm. Al-Jawari jumped up from his chair and ran for the open door behind where Castle was standing. The door closed under its own power, causing Al-Jawari to yelp as his fear reached an entirely new level. "H-h-how did...how did you do that?" he stammered out nervously.
The fear-filled question was all that Fallon needed to hear. "I've heard enough, I think," Fallon declared. "He's not powerful enough to be a flight risk."
"Think he's broken enough to cooperate with us?" asked Beckett.
"Only one way to find out," Ryan shrugged. Can you guys get him to give up how he got flipped?
Esposito nodded, and started to open his mouth to question Al-Jawari when the younger man beat him to it. "It's just not possible," Al-Jawari exclaimed as he backed down, crawling slowly back to his chair. "There's no way the Prophet would have seen a cop," he muttered under his breath. "No friggin' way..."
The Guardians all heard Al-Jawari's exclamation. "Who's the Prophet?" asked Esposito.
"I...I only met him once," Al-Jawari replied nervously. "I don't even know his real name. B-b-but...but when Aarif took me to meet him, he told us we were going to become all-powerful gods, just like him..."
Castle and Esposito seized on the opportunity presented to them. Esposito slipped behind Al-Jawari's chair and leaned in until his face was less than two inches away from their suspect's ear. It was then, and only then, that Esposito asked the question that was on the mind of all the Guardians...
"Thomas? Who's Aarif?"
Fallon stormed into the bullpen like a man on a mission. The Guardians watched their 'boss' as he tossed a a thick file down on Castle's desk. "Our man's name is Aarif Nazari," Fallon announced to the group. "He's been on Homeland Security's radar for about six months...until a week ago, when he dropped off the map entirely."
"Which is when he paid a visit to this Prophet," added Esposito.
Fallon nodded. "This would be my suspicion as well. It takes money to drop off the grid like Nazari did, so I can only assume this Prophet is now bankrolling his operation."
Beckett was flipping through the pages of the folder on her fiancé's desk. "There's no sign of Nazari having that kind of money prior to his disappearance?"
"None," replied Fallon.
"So if he's gone to ground," asked Esposito, "how do you propose we go after him?"
Fallon, in response to Esposito's question, focused his attention entirely on Castle. "There's been an agent working deep cover with Nazari for the past four months. I'm hoping your...connection to this agent will be able to lead us to him."
"Who are we talking about here?" asked Ryan. He quickly answered his own question, though, as a powerful wave of vivid memories and conflicting emotions hit the Mùshī. "Castle?" Ryan asked his friend, "Is that true?"
"As far as he told me," Castle replied. "But I haven't seen him since that day. To be honest, I can't even be completely certain he was telling me the truth that day." Castle turned his attention to Fallon. "Phoenix, are you telling me you knew about this all along?"
Fallon shook his head. "I only know what I was able to read in his file."
"But he *was* telling the truth?"
Fallon shrugged. "I have no idea what he told you, Master Sìfāng. But the man who helped you get Alexis out of Paris *is* your father. And I strongly suspect that we can use that genetic link to help us find Aarif."
When you get into the intelligence business, there's one fact that's drilled into you from the first day that you enter the field: the chances of living out your golden years in some retirement condo in Florida before eventually dying of old age...well, you had better odds of winning the lottery.
Actually, Jackson Hunt thought wryly, I probably would have had better odds of being struck by lightning while accepting one of those giant checks for winning the lottery...
It had been a bad, bad day for the intelligence asset. The undercover operation he had been working on for four months had gone to hell when, out of the blue, the sleeper cell's leader (a man whose trust Hunt was certain he had earned) shot out both his kneecaps. That led to six hours of a pretty impressive string of tortures as the terrorist leader tried to figure out which organization Hunt worked for. Hunt, of course, said nothing, choosing to let his agile mind focus on the far more important issues at hand: who had sold him out, why had they sold him out, and what *he* was going to do to the sellout when he found them.
Finally, though, the terrorist leader seemed to have reached his limits. "I must say, Mr. Hunt," he declared, "I am impressed. Not many men have the intestinal fortitude to withstand the things that you have experienced."
With bullets in his knees and elbows and every finger and toe broken, the only things that Jackson Hunt could move were his neck and his mouth. So he let his mouth take care of things. "Go to hell, Aarif," Hunt spat out angrily.
Aarif tilted his head just slightly toward Hunt, as if listening to the words that Hunt was *not* saying. After a few tense, quiet moments...Aarif smiled. "You are wondering who betrayed you," Aarif declared.
Hunt had to forcibly keep himself from flinching. "Gee," he countered sarcastically, "and here I thought you were just doing this for fun..."
Aarif let out a hearty chuckle before his expression turned deadly serious. "You think I am doing this for fun? This is in no way 'fun' for me, Mr. Hunt. Until this morning I considered you to be a trustworthy friend. And then I discovered who you *really* are." Aarif took the .357 Magnum from its resting place on the card table, flipping open the cylinder to load six new bullets into the weapon. The clicking spin of the cylinder echoed oddly in the large, empty space of the warehouse. "I would say that this will hurt me more than it will hurt you," Aarif declared casually, "but in this case, I believe that putting you out of your misery may be doing you a kindness."
Hunt felt the cool of the gun's metal chamber against his temple and braced himself for the end. A thousand thoughts ran through Hunt's mind in the split second after Aarif cocked the hammer of his weapon...most of them focused on the family who he barely knew. The son and granddaughter he had abandoned, willingly, in order to protect them from the terrible, dangerous world that he lived in. The same world that he was about to die in...and his family would never know.
Out of the thousand thoughts that were running through the mind of Jackson Hunt at that moment...none of those thoughts were of rescue. So the absolute last thing that Hunt could have possibly imagined was a two man-team throwing blue balls of energy around the room from their open, bare hands. A second two-man team was running around the room with super-human speed, knocking out the survivors of the dozen men that had been holding him hostage and zip-tying the wrists and ankles of every man, dead or alive.
The operation was over within seconds, leaving Hunt as the last survivor of the men who had been in the room before the four-man team arrived. The ball-throwers rushed to his side, checking on his injuries...and probably checking to find out if he was still alive. He groaned quietly to save them the guesswork.
Four heads shot up in response to Hunt's groans. "Oh thank God," one of ball throwers sighed with relief, "he's alive."
"He's hurt, though, dad. Really hurt."
Idly, Hunt was starting to wonder if he was hearing things. The faces of the ball-throwers were ones that he knew he didn't recognize. So why do they sound just like Richard and Alexis...
The Richard sound-alike turned his attention to one of the zip-tyers. "Xiānzhī?"
"The Yīzhì is waiting for us," the Xiānshī replied. "She'll start working on him as soon as we get back."
The instant change from one location to another was disorienting for the seriously injured man. Hunt noticed that he had somehow gone left the warehouse where Aarif had been holding him. But where the other warehouse has been deathly quiet and still, this warehouse was abuzz with life and activity. So much so that the jarring contrast between the two environments caused Jackson Hunt to faint as the relief of finally being out of danger allowed him to give in to the pain caused by his injuries.
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