Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters who appear in this story. Any other names, for characters or businesses, are fictional, uncompensated, or are in the public domain.
A/N: A very short update this time. I'd hoped to get a bit further, but I'm likely to be called away this week. So, better to post a short chapter than to delay even longer.
"Good morning, New York City. Our lead-off story is one that will certainly wake you up today," says one the perpetually-caffeinated early morning news anchors for a local television affiliate.
"That's right, Diana. Attendees at last night's Summit on Gang Violence were treated to far more than a keynote speech by New York's Junior Senator William Bracken. Following the conclusion of his remarks, which many expected to be a prelude to an announcement for a campaign for higher office, Senator Bracken was taken into custody by city and federal investigators." Looking somber, the co-host turns to follow the cue for his colleague to continue the story.
Reaching for gravitas, she takes up the report. "Senator Bracken's hopes for higher office may now be dashed as he faces charges of murder, conspiracy, and – notable given where he was arrested – a series of racketeering charges. The RICO violations stem from Bracken's alleged involvement in gang activity spreading across the boroughs and headed by this man," she says as she gestures to where the production booth as put up a mug-shot, "Virgil 'Vulcan' Simmons, a long-suspected leader of one of the City's most violent gangs."
"Simmons' body was found the night before last in a warehouse in Brooklyn. The ensuing police investigation determined that the warehouse itself was owned by a number of shell corporations and business groups that were ultimately tied back to Senator Bracken," the male anchor says to continue the story."In addition to physical evidence at the scene that sources say implicates Senator Bracken, the existence of those companies and Bracken's financial interest in them is expected to lead to additional investigations and likely criminal charges."
"In addition, Dan," the other anchor intones, keeping the back-and-forth rhythm of the broadcast, "state and federal authorities are now investigating Senator Bracken's campaign election funds. Sources say that several irregularities have already come to light, some with the assistance of a suspected Bracken insider. While last night's arrest of the Senator is a shocking development, it may only be the first exposure of a criminal enterprise that could stretch all the way from the City to the nation's capital."
"While authorities follow their investigations to Washington DC," Dan continues, "city officials are already combatting the upsurge in gang activity as others vie to fill the void left by Simmons' demise. Six bodies associated with the battle for succession have been recovered, including those of Randall 'Skinny' Stevens, Thomas 'Big T' Tompkins, and an as-yet unidentified male suspected to be an enforcer for the infamous Kings gang."
"While Bracken faces federal charges in an undisclosed holding facility," Diana takes up the story, driving towards conclusion, "he is expected to be arraigned later today, consistent with New York state law. Stay tuned for updates on what will certainly be a headline story for weeks to come. Now, let's turn things over to Lisa, who has an update on yesterday's bizarre Sixth Avenue fight involving three nannies, two strollers, a jogger, and a hot dog vendor…"
"You're in early this morning," Captain Gates notes, her tone making it clear that's she's not surprised to see Beckett stationed outside of Holding. "Don't suppose I need to ask why you're here? Or is this part of your temporary federal assignment?"
"I'm keeping my eye on the prisoner," Beckett answers with a nonchalant shrug, unwilling to delve into her connection with the charges levied against the senator.
Gates looks like she isn't fooled but pursues a different topic. "I'm surprised no one knows he's being held here, but we both know that'll change soon as word gets out. Is holding him here at the 12th part of a political statement," she asks, peering down the hallway to see if the prisoner is in sight, "or is there something else going on?"
Nodding at her boss' insight, Beckett gives a rueful chuckle as she acknowledges that a private bet with Castle about this turned out in his favor. He'd wagered heavily on Gates knowing both that Bracken was in house and that putting him there served several purposes. "It's a bit of both. Involving the NYPD makes the department look good, and holding him here makes us at the 12th look better. I'm told it's a bit of a thank-you for allowing me to participate in the effort."
"Despite your obvious conflict of interest…," Gates continues, proving that she knows that Beckett's tied to Bracken by the identity of one of his victims.
"No," Beckett reacts immediately. Seeing Gates about to speak, she raises a hand to forestall comment. "Yes, he orchestrated my mother's death. But that means my interests are aligned with his prosecution, not in conflict."
"Regardless, you're compromised," Gates replies, unimpressed with the semantic argument. "If this were my case you'd be nowhere near it. Is your new team aware of your connection to the prisoner?"
"It's one of the reasons I'm on the team," Beckett acknowledges with a nod. When Gates raises a brow to learn any other reason, the detective remains quiet.
Realizing that Beckett's already inured to her disappointed stare, Gates returns to the previous topic. "I cut you off. You were telling me why Bracken's here and I had the feeling there's another reason you haven't mentioned."
"At least one," Beckett replies, unable to resist teasing her boss. She knows she's playing with fire, but without Castle's around, someone needs to irk the authority figures now and then. At least that's how she rationalizes it to herself. "It also means that we get to do a little perp walk when we take him out of here for arraignment and interrogation later today. I suspect the media will be unusually prescient in anticipating where and when the senator will make his appearance."
"Is that wise?" Gates asks, surprised by this answer. "If the charges are true, then there must be security risks associated with exposing Bracken for transit. The 12th won't look so good if a transferee is attacked on our turf."
"It's covered," Beckett answers casually.
Too casually.
"What's going on?" Gates asks, dropping her voice.
"Believe it or not," the detective replies with a small smile, "it's all part of the plan."
Chewing on the lip of the paper coffee cup Esposito brought her fifteen minutes ago, Beckett can't stop staring at the clock. So much of the plan for today depends on timing. The group Castle's been working with seems efficient, but there are so many things that could go wrong…
Finally tossing the cup into a nearby bin, Beckett admits to herself that it's not the timing that has her on edge – it's Bracken. In all her fantasies about apprehending her mother's killer, there was always some confrontation, some opportunity for her to verbally lacerate her demon, to tear him down and return the pain and suffering that's been coiled in her gut since she was nineteen years old. And yet she hasn't said a word. He's 25 yards away, down a simple concrete corridor, hidden in a cage that prevents escape but not words.
And yet she hesitates.
At first, she waited for privacy. After that, she waited to ensure that her assault was structured and honed for maximum effect. But then she noticed Bracken looking fearfully at her. She realized, in that brief moment where his composure slipped, that he's worried. Here she is, the daughter of one of his early victims. She's spent her life preparing for this moment. But her failure to attack has him worried that she has something worse in store for him. It's got him on edge, and seeing a seasoned politician trying to hide his trepidation provides a rush of avenging glee that thrums through her system.
No, she'll let him sit and worry. The fact that something far worse *is* on the way only makes it that much easier.
At 7:50, a troop of helmeted escort officers emerges from the elevator. Clanking and thunking in their heavy boots and equipment, they immediately attract Bracken's attention. The four burly men make a scene out of signing the desk sergeant's paperwork at the registration desk, their intent to take possession of the prisoner telegraphed loudly and intentionally.
"Hey!" Bracken shouts down the hall. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but I'm not going anywhere without my attorney."
"Yeah," calls out one of the escorts, probably the leader, as he lifts the visor on his helmet to reveal a challenge-wearied face. "'Cause this is a voluntary trip and you're the one in charge." His laugh turning into a cough that has him turning his head a spitting onto the floor, the lead escort ignores the look of distaste from the desk sergeant as he starts strolling toward the holding cell. "Your transfer's down for 8:00 – that's when we're leaving, whether your babysitter is here or not."
"Then it's a good thing I'm here to protect my client's constitutional rights," calls out a voice from behind Beckett, causing heads to swivel. There, slipping into Holding and cutting a path towards the guards, is a defense attorney who's obviously immune to the threats of police. He moves with easy freedom, his gait and demeanor declaring his remit just as much as his fabulously expensive suit. Without pausing his stride, he slips a hand into a slim attaché case and releases several papers to float down to sergeant's desk.
"Who are you?" Bracken asks, having expected his usual attorney. "Where's David?"
"You will escort my client and I to a room where we may speak in private," the attorney commands of the escort leader, while holding up a finger to temporarily put Bracken's questions on hold. "While we speak, you will move that ridiculous entourage I saw parked outside. My client will be escorted into an armored vehicle with tinted windows in the basement of this facility – I'll not have your incompetence putting him in a situation where his honor or safety might be jeopardized out in the open."
The leader of the escort team looks increasingly sour. He also looks like he's about to blow his top. But the attorney interjects again before he can say a word.
"You may claim my client and I at 8:20, which still provides ample time to arrive at the courthouse on time. And you, girl," he says, turning to point to Beckett, "will collect the garment bag containing my client's change of clothes from your security desk and bring it to us immediately. I'll not have my client before a judge looking like a disheveled commoner."
The silence after the attorney's commands suddenly stops proves eerie. The escort team look at each other, then the desk sergeant. The desk sergeant, meanwhile, has been at the 12th long enough to know that talking like that to Beckett is a good recipe for pain, so he's watching her with an odd combination of wariness and excitement about an imminent explosion. And Beckett, herself, contents herself to level a calculating stare at Bracken.
"Well? Get on it!" the attorney barks, startling the escort team into motion.
Beckett spins on her heel, heading toward the security desk to collect Bracken's clothes. Her movement breaks the stasis of the escort team, which splits apart to provide an escort to the prisoner and a pair who head out to make the changes regarding the prisoner's transportation to the courthouse.
Beckett walks slowly, allowing the escort team to get ahead of her. As she leaves Holding, she strains to hear the attorney finally address his client's questions.
"My apologies, Senator," the attorney says in a much more soothing, conciliatory tone. "David sends his regards and I expect he'll join us later today. As for this morning, I know the children we're dealing with here and how to handle them."
To think, Beckett reminds herself, this could've been her job had Bracken himself not knocked her off her career path so long ago. Disgusting. Still, she slows her stride just enough to hear the attorney's next words before she departs.
"Allow me to introduce myself, Senator," the attorney says. "My name is Jacob Samuelson…"
A/N: Should I be called away this week, a few long plane flights should allow for me to get some writing done. Although I'm not sure I should bother. My middle child started high school two weeks ago. I reviewed her first writing assignment this evening and it blew me off of my chair. Clearly, she's the writer of the family and I'm one of those thousand monkeys pounding on a keyboard.