Warning: Contains slight traces of foul language and unfriendly brits.

Chapter 14: Let's Get The Case Rolling

Leaning against the door of the break room, my head snaps around when I hear the elevator announce its arrival with a chime. As the doors slide open, I can see Beckett pushing Richard Castle out into the bullpen. With a firm hand, she guides him to her desk and I fall into a trot behind her as she passes me. The writer eyes me curiously once we stopped at Beckett's desk and looks me over from head to toe.

"So, you're the other guy who's following her around?" he asks, but judging by the twinkle in his eye, it's more snarky than hostile.

"Actually, I'm an independent contractor. Think of me more as the friendly neighborhood cat that lays dead mice on your door mat rather than as a puppy. My name's Jonny Gerthson. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Castle. I'm a fan."

With that, I grin slightly and hold out my hand, which he shakes with a warm, firm grasp. "It's always nice to meet fans, especially if they're of such a young age," he says and smiles back. "Speaking of that, how old are you again? No offense, but you are kinda young to hang out in a police precinct just like that."

I let out a snort of laughter. "None taken. I'm fifteen. As to why I'm here... the short version is, I was accused of a crime I didn't commit, and the only way to assure I wouldn't end up as a scapegoat was to turn state's evidence. The DA didn't want that though, but thanks to Detective Beckett and Captain Montgomery convincing him to make a deal, I now work here 'pro bono'. Or rather, I let my information network work for me. I inherited it recently, so you could say I'm an information broker. But only for the good guys, of course."

With a short glance in Beckett's direction, I go on. "First point on the agenda was and is catching the killer who left a terrorist to go boom almost at the precinct's doorsteps. I assume you'll be accompanying Detective Beckett from now on?" Castle gives me a broad grin and a nod, while Beckett verifies that much more reluctantly.

The author's head turns around to face Beckett. "Oh, by the way, I heard what has happened at the abandoned factory. Beckett, how come you've seen more action with him than with me?"

Beckett however doesn't get to answer. Captain Montgomery bursts into the bullpen, a scared techie in tow, and assembles all the homicide division's detectives. Unlike most days when he remains calm and collected, his face right now is ashen and he's shaking with rage; although, to give him credit, the tone of his voice reveals barely nothing for the untrained ear.

"Alright, people, listen up. Everyone not yet assigned to a case, you'll work on the Harper case. Everyone working low profile cases, and by that I mean any other case than the Harper case, you'll work on the Harper case. We received a video claiming responsibility, and I want this arrogant bastard caught, fast. Understood?"

Everyone answers in the affirmative, and Montgomery nods to the tech guy who has already set up beamer and laptop. He opens a video file that starts with a dark screen. Then you see a body moving away from the lens, revealing an older man in a jacket with the british flag on it. Figures. He squints and pats the camera, probably to check it.

"Is this bloody thing on? Ah, never mind. I'll check it later." He opens up his arms and grins. "What's up bitches? Isn't that how you degenerated yanks greet each other?" the man asks, but he waves it aside after a few seconds. "I don't care, really, I just wanted to insult you. As you failed so spectacularly in my favorite hiding place, I should really send you the footage by the way, it's hilarious I tell you, I thought you guys needed a little pick-me-up. So, I confess that I placed the guy in your area and let him explode. There. You happy already? Although, to be honest, I can't take much credit for that, it was really an accident. How could I know that my homebrewed tranquilizer would be so volatile if it comes in contact with alcohol?"

He shrugs with one shoulder. "Meh, it worked, one way or the other. The guy is out of business. Anyway, since you've shown no sign of competence whatsoever, other than that midget informant of yours I've butlered for a few weeks, he seems like a relatively bright guy, at least in comparison, I even let you know that I'm still in my little british oasis here in New York City, and I intend to stay a while," he declares, and his grin grows even wider. "But don't get too complacent. You have twenty four hours to kill me before the press gets some really interesting news to broadcast. Have a nice day, morons!"

The hand darkens the view and the video ends a second later. The room is silent in shock for a few seconds before indignant mumbling flares up. Montgomery hushes the crowd and assigns teams personally. The three detectives plus Castle plus me go back once the captain gives the all clear.

"What is he thinking? I'm not a midget! I know I'm not tall with just over five seven, but neither am I a midget," I grumble and cross my arms on our way to Beckett's desk.

"Really? That's what you took from that video?" Beckett asks incredulously.

I shrug. "What else is there to take? It was pretty straight forward, if you ask me. Bad guy gloats, insults the police a little, we go to his happy place, endow a faceful of buckshot to him, we go home and we drink to celebrate, those of legal age get a beer, and I'm thinking sweet cider works for me."

While I nonchalantly ignore the icy glare Beckett is sending my way, Castle finally shakes his stupor away and points to the now blank screen. "Wait, this guy was your butler? I'd sue the agency."

"Meh. I'll get my money back anyway, I still had warranty on him. I just shouldn't be the one to shoot him. Not worth the hassle. And if this doesn't work for whatever reason, I can still cherish the fact that I am finally allowed to cook in my own kitchen. He was always nearly throwing a fit when I got near that room for anything other than breakfast. At least I can bake my favorite. I make a mean onion tart. Best served with a young 'Federweisser', by the way."

"Ouh, I love a good 'Federweisser', even though it's not easy to get at here in the States. That's the only alcoholic beverage I get my daughter to drink." He points at the three detectives around us. "None of you have heard that."

Beckett rolls her eyes. "Now that we have that out of the way, do you think we could please work on the case? One six-year-old on a sugar rush is bad enough, but two of them? Ugh, I need a coffee." She throws her arms in the air and rushes off to the break room.

I scrunch up my face. "What's wrong? Worried pissing her off might be a bad idea?" Esposito jokes when he sees my expression.

"No. I pity her for the vile beverage she's forcing down right now," I answer, which makes Castle laugh and the two detectives glaring at me, because they know exactly what I'm talking about.

"Have you tried it yet, Mr. Castle?"

"God, no. Not if I can help it," he snorts, but looks slightly thoughtfully at the door to the break room. "Let's hope it actually raises her mood."

"Caffeine, no matter the form, should do the trick. Although a touch of vanilla and a bear claw can go a long way."

A few minutes later, Beckett comes back.

"Any ideas how we can find the guy yet?"

Silence.

I raise my hand. "I could make a call, see if he popped up on my radar."

Beckett waves me away. "Go do that. Break room's free if you need privacy."

Sliding away from her desk, I nod my thanks. "Much appreciated."

With that, I leave for the break room and take my phone out after closing the door behind me. I punch in the number by heart, and wait for the person on the other end to pick up.

Finally, I hear the click that announces the connection. "The plan is in motion. They're after him. Do you have the location? Perfect. Send it to my phone in an hour."

If you're asking yourself, "are they really going after Barry?", the answer is "Yes, they definitely are." It's crazy how long this case has dragged on. I think, however, next chapter will end this case.

It's going to be a close call, but I think I might reach the word goal for a Castle Ficathon for the first time in my (admittedly rather short) history as a fan fiction author. As of this chapter, this story has over 20,000 words. Less than five thousand to go! Woohoo! :)