Ian
Chapter 21
Kate, Castle, and the FBI team gathered in the Candela apartment at the appointed time, to monitor the call from the kidnapper. The computer altered voice issued menacingly from the speaker of the FBI's equipment. "A civilian must deliver the money. If I see cops, Angel dies." The call ended abruptly, but Alfred Candela's phone dinged an alert for a text. The FBI tech instructed him to open the message.
"It's another video of Angel," Alfred announced, "and today's paper is there. He's okay!"
"Forward it to us the way you did the last one," Sorenson instructed. "I'll get ready to make the drop."
"No!" Alfred protested. "He said no cops! We're not risking Angel's life. He's my son. I'll make the drop."
"You can't," Sorenson argued. "You're emotionally involved. Your mind isn't clear. I've done this before. They'll never know."
"Yeah?" Alfred retorted. "What if they've been watching? What if they're still watching? You people drive up in your black SUVs. You park wherever you want. I'm an artist. I know what I see and you look like exactly what you are - a cop. I'll do it!"
"There's another way," Castle interjected. "I could make the drop. I'm not a cop, and I'm not as emotionally invested as Alfred is. It makes sense."
"It makes no sense," Sorenson contended. "We can't send some writer in when a boy's life is at stake."
"Will," Kate countered, "I've seen Castle under pressure. He can handle himself. He's saved my ass. He can do this. And Alfred's right. You scream Fed. Castle's a lot less threatening."
Sorenson closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I guess I'll just have to trust you on that, Kate. Okay, Castle makes the drop, but we'll be monitoring him all the way."
Even using hundred dollar bills, three million dollars weighed sixty pounds. Castle groaned and swung the type of pack the kidnapper had specified onto his back. "Wow, this reminds me of when Ian wanted to take all his art equipment on a camping trip. At least the streets of Manhattan are fairly even ground."
Sorenson handed Castle an earpiece. "This goes all the way in your ear. It shouldn't be visible from the outside. You'll be able to hear us and we'll be able to hear you."
"Castle," Kate added, "we'll need to hang back so we won't be spotted. Stay alert, but don't take any chances. We don't know who the kidnapper is or what he'll do."
"I'll be careful," Castle promised. "I have a son of my own to come back to, as well as other things to look forward to."
Kate blushed and Sorenson glared. "Just don't screw it up, writer boy," Sorenson warned.
Castle walked several blocks to a newspaper vending machine near a subway entrance and detached a cell phone from underneath. A text popped up on the screen. "Take the 3 train."
"They want me to take the Seventh Avenue Express," Castle whispered.
"Damn!" Sorenson exclaimed. "The signal won't penetrate from underground. Watch yourself, Castle. Talk to us as soon as you're clear."
"Roger that," Castle acknowledged as he descended the stairs. He swiped his metro card and walked to the platform. No train arrived for several minutes. When the train pulled in, it was uncrowded and he could have taken a seat, but he was too nervous to sit still and he didn't want to remove his backpack. He clung tightly to a vertical pole and wondered what would happen next. As the train approached the Times Square Station, the cell phone picked up a wi fi signal. A text instructed Castle to get off and go to Times Square. As soon as he was above ground, Castle reported his location and that another text had instructed him to put the phone in the backpack, leave it outside the Disney Store, and walk back toward the subway. Castle did as he was instructed, alerting Sorenson to the drop off. Castle put his own phone behind his back as he walked away, to try catch an image on video of whomever picked up the backpack. The square suddenly came alive with people dressed as Disney sea creatures. They converged on the Disney Store, blocking all view of the backpack, singing and dancing to "Under the Sea." When they dispersed at the end of the song, there was no sign of the backpack.
Kate balled her fists in frustration as she stared at the video screen in Tech. "I don't believe this! There are cameras everywhere in Times Square, but none of them got a view of who took that backpack. There weren't any witnesses either. They were all watching the performers. It was all organized as a flash mob. The notice went out on twitter from a spoofed account. The kidnapper was probably in costume, one of the bulkier ones that would hide the backpack. We don't have the phone he called you on, Castle. There's no way we can ID him."
"Maybe there is," Castle suggested. "The text I got telling me to get off at Times Square went through Boingo. It had to be set up in advance to do that. That text came in at exactly one fifteen. Can you check with Boingo and see what went through their network to that location at that time? Maybe you can trace the phone and trace the kidnapper."
Kate turned to face him."It's a long shot, but it's the only shot we have, unless the kidnapper returns Angel, and there's been no sign that's going to happen. This is the sort of thing the FBI should be able to expedite."
"Nice that they're good for something," Castle snarked. "Listen, while Sorenson is pushing paper, I'm going back to the loft. I have an irresistible urge to hug my son."
"Yeah, I think I understand, Castle. I'll call you if anything breaks," Kate promised.
"Dad," Ian called as his father came through the door, "I was just making a PB and J. You want one?"
Castle rushed to put his arms around his son, managing to get a smear of peanut butter on his sleeve of his shirt in the process. Ian handed him a napkin. "Dad, it's just a sandwich. What's going on?"
"It's just that you're here to make it." Castle explained.
"You didn't get the little boy back?" Ian guessed.
Castle leaned on the counter. "No we didn't."
"But Detective Beckett is still working on it, right?" Ian worried.
"She is," Castle confirmed. "I gave her a lead that might work out."
"Hey, Dad," Ian encouraged, "It'll work out. You and Detective Beckett are great together, like Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor."
"I hope so, but the kidnapper has always seemed to be one step a head of us, like he knows exactly what we're going to do."
"In your books that means there's a mole or an inside man," Ian offered.
"Yes it does!" Castle exclaimed. "It would take an inside man to know that Theresa Candela had three million in her 401k, too. And there's one man who's been steering us in the wrong direction all along. I need to get back to the precinct!"
"Um Dad," Ian offered. "I think you might want to get the rest of the peanut butter off your shirt first."
Castle grabbed a couple of paper towels and checked for the stain stick in his pocket. "I'll grab a cab and take care of it on the way."