A Stair of Swords

Chapter Four

Phil led Alexis into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator while she went through the cabinets. Pulling off the hat, she tossed it in a chair. "How long is this going to take?"

"Not bored already, are you?"

"No. After I was kidnapped, my dad got very…protective. This is gonna drive him, Kate and Grams nuts."

"Understandable."

"What am I gonna tell him about…" she waved her arms encompassing their situation, "…this?"

Phil turned from the refrigerator with lunch meat, cheese, lettuce, tomato and condiments. Reaching out her left hand, Alexis snagged the partial loaf of whole wheat bread. She took two plates from the cabinet above and carried them to the table as he joined her. "We'll have to see how it plays out."

"That's not an answer, Phil."

"Since we're traveling as father and daughter, you should call me Dad."

Frustrated with his explanations, or rather the lack of same, Alexis slammed a plate down in front of Phil. "There's only one person I call that and you're not him."

As soon as she said it, Alexis was sorry though Phil didn't seem to be insulted or bothered over much by her sharply spoken words. He calmly built his sandwich while she did the same accompanied by beeps, whirrs, clicks and occasional muttering from the other room. "Want something to drink?"

She looked at him and away, nodding. From the corner of her eye she watched him take out a pitcher of lemonade and pour them each a glass, setting one near her plate. Lifting the glass to her lips, she took a small sip. "Sorry I snapped. It's not your fault."

"I'm not sure whose fault it is or that's where I'd be." He pulled out the chain that held his meds, chems he'd called them, and just stared at the box. "But you might want to hold onto that apology."

"Why?" He pointed to her head and Alexis' hand touched it protectively. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"It's beautiful, but that's the point."

Groaning, she dropped the last bite of sandwich back on the plate. "I have to cut it?"

~~O~~

Phil flashed her an apologetic smile. "Our descriptions will be out to all law enforcement agencies and my guess is for you they'll start with 'she has long, red hair'."

The medical student grudgingly agreed with a small groan.

Going into the living room, Phil returned with a box of hair dye in a brand that promised to add natural highlights while being kind your hair and the environment. He took a pair of scissors from one of the drawers, nodding down the hall. "Let's get it over with."

Getting to her feet, Alexis followed Phil down the hall. He pushed open the bathroom door then followed her in with a kitchen chair he'd appropriated. She sat down and allowed him to drape a towel around her shoulders. "Just how much are you going to cut off?"

"It'll have to be a very different style from what you have now." He ran his fingers through her hair testing the texture and thickness. "And I promise not to make you look ridiculous."

~~O~~

"Do you know anything about cutting hair?" The slight tremor in her voice betrayed her nervousness.

Opening the hair dye, he pulled the plastic gloves out then set the bottles and conditioner aside. "I spent three months undercover in Seattle as a hairstylist, and had quite the following."

"And if you tell me about it you'll have to kill me? That is so cliché, Phil."

His bantering tone turned serious. "No. But there are others who wouldn't hesitate." He wrapped a rubber band around the hair just at her shoulders and cut the ponytail off, feeling her wince with each snip. Setting the lopped off strands aside, he put on the plastic gloves and mixed the hair dye. Alexis didn't say anything more as he squirted the dye onto her hair until every strand was covered.

When he was done, Alexis roamed around the house, purposely ignoring all of the mirrors. At twenty minutes, Phil sent her to wash and condition, telling her to call him when she was done so he could finish cutting it. "Take a shower too, if you like. Marcus will provide us with at least one change of clothes. We can get more on the road."

Grabbing her backpack, she went back into the bathroom and closed the door. Phil stood at the front window looking out. He didn't worry about being seen because all the windows in the house were modified "smart" windows. An electric current ran through the glass turning them into one-way mirrors much like those used in police interrogation rooms. He could see out, but no one could see in. His mind counted off the time and when he reached seventeen minutes, he heard Alexis' voice coming down the hall. "I'm ready."

The bathroom door stood open and Alexis was already seated in the chair. Phil combed through the much shorter length to remove any tangles and as it dried, her hair became wavy. With the scissors, he evened out the length, adding in some layers to enhance the waves. He used a brush and blow dryer to complete the transformation. When finished, he whipped the towel off with a flourish. "You can look now."

Alexis stood, took a deep breath and faced the mirror.

~~O~~

The bathroom door shut behind Phil closing her in with the gentle smell of the all-natural hair dye mixed with conditioner and some unidentifiable soap fragrance. Alexis waited until his footsteps faded before opening her eyes. Her mouth dropped open as the face of the stranger in the mirror looked back.

The long red hair she'd inherited from her mother was gone, replaced by a shorter style in brown with subtle highlights and parted it on the left. Her bangs, swept to the side, reached below her eyebrows, one lock falling over her forehead making her look sophisticated and chic. It emphasized her cheekbones in a way the red never had giving her the appearance of maturity. "Dad and Grams are going to freak."

Leaning close to the mirror, she examined the subtleties of color in more detail deciding she liked it well enough but would be glad to go back to her natural color when this was all over. Picking up the ponytail, she opened a drawer and dropped it inside, not at all surprised to see others in various colors, textures and lengths. Marcus-if that's his real name-must do this a lot. And that's another thing Phil will have to tell me about when this is all over.

Brushing her hands through her new, shorter 'do making it bounce, Alexis exhaled loudly, turned out the light and joined the two men in the living room.

~~O~~

Phil thought the golden brown with lighter highlights looked great on Alexis. It gave her a spark of wildness that she'd been lacking before. Not that she wasn't wise to the ways of the world, but now she looked the part. The new color added to the image. Men would be falling all over themselves to talk to her, and that could be a problem. They might have to change their plans slightly. Backing up, Phil left Alexis alone to get used to the new look.

Out in the living room, he pulled a chair up next to Marcus, but before he could say a word, his friend spoke.

"What's with the kid, Steve?"

All this time and Phil still marveled at the ease with which Marcus fell into a rhythm with each new persona that was presented to him. It also annoyed him that Marcus was asking questions, but really, it shouldn't have. In the last eighteen months, Alexis is the only person he'd ever brought to a safe house with him. Not that Marcus had always lived here. Marcus wasn't even his real name. Like Phil, Marcus moved around, changing names and residences the way some people changed their clothes. "There were several…incidents in New York."

"Got the word through my contact at NYPD. They've told the news agencies it was a drug buy gone wrong and a break-in, respectively."

"Don't all drug buys go bad eventually?"

Marcus nodded. His disdain for drug dealers went deeper than most, and Phil often wondered how his backstory read. His friend may have spent so many years off the grid that he couldn't remember his birth name, but that didn't mean he was a bad person. Phil had no idea where Marcus had grown up, guessing that it hadn't been in the US. According to the underlying inflections and word pronunciations that he'd obviously worked hard to hide, Marcus was more than likely from Canada. Ontario, perhaps. It was also of no issue, completely not pertinent to their friendship.

"She's a friend, Marcus. Just a friend."

Marcus spared him a quick glance and a lopsided grin. "You may be…whatever it is you are, but a cradle robber you aren't. Grace has an old soul, but she's not more than twenty-one, twenty-two." Glancing over his shoulder and lowering his voice, Marcus added, "Not many are going to believe she's your daughter."

Phil shrugged, a bland expression crossing his features. "We'll keep our plans fluid, as always. Because of her grandfather, Grace has untapped talents inside her. This little…adventure just may bring them into the light. And who knows? It could send her on an entirely new career path."

Marcus twitched one shoulder. His signal that he was changing the subject. "I've set up a total of five identities for the two of you, including Grace and Steve Parker. If you need more, let me know and I'll have them sent to the usual places. Just need photos."

Phil and Marcus looked up when Alexis stopped in the doorway, brushing the bangs from her eyes with a nervous gesture. "I could get used to it, I guess. What's next…Dad?"

An odd sensation shimmied through Phil's stomach when Alexis called him Dad. Part thrill, part disappointment telling him that he had no children of his own in the before time. Brooding about it wouldn't help, so he pushed it into the back of his mind as he got to his feet. "Marcus?"

Over the next thirty minutes, Marcus directed Phil and Alexis as he snapped photos for passports, driver's licenses, student ID's, and "family" pictures. Somehow, he was able to reverse age them so they appeared younger than they were and giving credence to their story of being father and daughter. He also included several photos with Grace's "mother." With his ability to absorb information quickly, Phil easily assimilated the made up histories of his aliases while Alexis did the same. He would test her knowledge between here and the train station but didn't think there would be a problem.

Marcus walked them to the back door, engaging the lock and resetting the alarm as soon as the door closed.

Alexis didn't speak and Phil wondered what was going through her mind. She seemed to be taking this all a little too well, and it set Phil's instincts on edge. At some point, he expected her to stop cooperating and start demanding answers. He just hoped he was ready to give them when the time came. They were most certainly in danger if they stayed together and he could move about more freely and inconspicuously alone, but then he wouldn't be able to protect her.

She'd saved his life when she insisted on taking him into her home and he would repay that kindness with doing everything he could to return her to her family unharmed…or give up his own life in the process.

~~O~~

Flashing his badge gained him unquestioned entrance into the apartment building bustling with cops and residents milling about talking in low voices, speculating about what had happened to their famous mystery writer neighbor. Listening with one ear, he discovered that while they thought this Richard Castle person odd, they were also quite fond of him and his eccentric ways.

Most of the cops ignored him as they moved around him and though he pretended not to see it, two detectives in their early thirties, obviously partners, pretended not to watch his trek down the hall, their glares deepening the closer he got to the crime scene. He came to a halt when both men stepped into his path.

"Help you with something, pal?" the Hispanic man asked with a hard edge to his voice.

"Yeah. This is an active crime scene," the brown haired man stated shortly.

The stranger had seen this a hundred times. These boys wanted to let the newcomer know onto whose turf he'd wandered. Marking their territory, so to speak. Relaxing his own stance as a show of submission, he held up the badge and ID still in his left hand. "Dominic Trask, Homeland Security. Who's in charge here?"

~~O~~

"That would be me." Kate appeared at Ryan's side, her badge on display as well as she made introductions. "Detective Beckett. Detectives Ryan and Esposito, and the owner, Richard Castle."

Trask nodded. "Detectives. Mr. Castle."

Meeting his eyes unwaveringly, Kate asked, "Why is Homeland Security so interested in a double homicide?"

"Your vics are on our watch list. What happened?"

Kate led the way inside the apartment where the CSU was still working. "The first vic died of a broken neck. He was found at the top of the stairs. Vic number two was found in the master bedroom shot twice with his own weapon."

Esposito took up the thread. "Yeah. Only his prints were on it, but the ME says the angle is wrong for a self-inflicted wound."

"Then there's this…" Ryan used a tablet to call up the security footage from the hallway and lobby. A man in his mid-forties was holding Alexis' hand as they ran the length of the hall and disappeared into the stairwell. Ryan tapped the screen and the view changed. Alexis burst into the lobby, motioned toward the back of the building and took the man's hand again. They moved out of camera range with Alexis in the lead this time.

"Our facial rec came up empty on him too." Kate shared a glance with her team when Trask inhaled sharply, his shoulders tensing. "You know him?"

Trask now seemed to be even more tense, if that was possible. He made a barely discernible pause before responding. "No. Who's the red-head?"

"My daughter. She's only twenty-one. He has to be at least twice her age," Castle responded without inflection. Kate knew he was panicking inside, and so was she. As a cop, she was better at setting her emotions aside while Castle wasn't. It was just one of the things she loved about him. She already thought of Alexis as her step-daughter. The wedding would just make it official. Her thumb rubbed the back of the engagement ring, a habit she'd developed in just the nineteen hours since it had been put on her finger by the man she would marry.

Schooling her features, Kate touched Castle on the arm. "Play the phone messages."

Castle held out his cell phone so the others could listen. When it ended, he hit the end key angrily. "Ever since the kidnapping, we use codes when leaving a message. The phrase 'I'm doing just fine' means 'I'm with a friend and we're in danger.' I received this message just before our plane landed at La Guardia…"

"Hi, Dad. It's me again. I'm still doing just fine. There's supposed to be storms this weekend so take your umbrella. Oh, and Sophia called."

The relaxed stance was back though there was still something in Trask's eyes. The pain of loss had been joined by rage. Not directed at Kate or her team making her pity the poor b***** Trask would hunt down when this was over. The HLS agent shrugged. "And?"

Kate held in a sigh as she gestured for Trask to follow her inside the apartment for a walk-through while Castle explained. "The word storm alludes to my Derek Storm series. A little over three years ago, we found out that Sophia Turner-the inspiration for Clara Strike-was actually a KGB mole who had infiltrated the CIA and was left out to dry when the Soviet Union collapsed."

Picking his way carefully over and around the stuff spread all over the floor, Trask snorted. "Don't get it."

Again touching Castle's hand so he wouldn't make an angry retort, Kate answered the unasked question. "It means that Alexis has reason to believe the danger will come from someone posing as a government agent."

A short series of musical notes indicated the detective had a new message. Her eyes went from the phone to Trask then to her team. "And since you check out, Agent Trask, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you're the real deal."

She had to give Trask credit for not batting an eye at the revelation that they'd checked up on him. Either his acting skills would earn him an Academy award, or he was who he appeared to be.

Taking a pad and pen from his pocket, Trask flipped it open to the first unused page. "Wanna catch me up?"

Nodding at Ryan, Kate touched the back of Castle's hand with hers just to let him know she was there for him. He returned the gesture then shoved both hands in his pockets while Ryan and Esposito gave Trask a rundown of the events of the day.

~~O~~

From inside a vacant apartment in Manhattan, the man known to some as Jackson Hunt peered through a pair of binoculars. He had been watching the building directly across from his vantage point until his attention was drawn to the street. With an attitude of boredom that was anything but, a brown haired man climbed out of a government issued sedan, flashing his ID at the officers guarding the entrance. Before making his way inside, he glanced up at the sky as if he'd heard or sensed something.

Hunt recognized him, nodding in satisfaction that someone he knew and trusted was on the job. Now Hunt could go back to his life knowing that his family would be well taken care of. But just to be sure, he'd stay around a little longer.

With one hand, Hunt stuck an earwig in his left ear as the other hand flipped the switch on a small transmitter activating the bug he'd placed inside the copy of Casino Royale that now had a place in the library of his son, Richard Castle. It allowed him to hear everything said inside the loft as he momentarily left his post to attend to some personal business.

He was back in short order and went back to watching his son and the others move through the mess, hitting all the high points of the incident.

Hunt's bushy eyebrows drew together when the man he knew by the name of Dominic Trask left the building taking off his jacket and loosening his tie as he got back in the car and drove away. Trask's interest had been piqued by the video and voice mail messages as Hunt had intended when he sent the clip of the meeting with his contact in Paris and the second one taken by the ATM camera across from the coffee shop.

He and the man in the video had worked a few ops together back in the day and Hunt had been saddened at the news of his passing during the invasion. But for all his experience, Hunt had no explanation for his former colleague's untimely return to the land of the living. It made no sense, and in Hunt's world, there had to be a method to the madness. Everything happened for a reason. All he had to do was stick around to find out the truth. It was only a matter of time because he always got answers.

~~O~~

Keeping his steps light to disguise the heaviness in his heart and mind, Trask returned to his vehicle, tossed his jacket in the passenger seat and pulled away from the curb at a sedate pace. Once out of sight of anyone who might've been watching the loft, he pulled down a narrow alley and parked between two enormous box trucks. He'd already checked this area out and disabled the cameras so he could work without worrying about being watched.

Leaving the motor running, he opened the glove compartment and removed a small device that he used to scan every inch of the car, locating several GPS tracking bugs hidden strategically around the outside. Flipping a concealed switch burned out the trackers bringing a self-satisfied smirk to his lips. "Better luck next time, pal."

Back on the road again, his company issued phone vibrated on the passenger seat. Without picking it up he knew who it would be. At the next light, he removed the battery and SIM card then took a sealed container from under the front passenger seat. Using his thumbprint to open it, he dropped the phone, battery and SIM card into the liquid watching it bubble and foam as it ate away at the metal and plastic. When all the pieces had dissolved, he capped the container and pushed it out of sight.

Resting his left wrist on the top edge of the steering wheel, he guided the vehicle through the streets of Manhattan as he planned his next move.

Under the back bumper, the one tracker he'd missed began transmitting his location to a receiver at the right hand of a man sitting in a room filled with electronic equipment, a bank of computer monitors lining the wall in front of him.

TBC