Chapter 36 – Between the Lines
"His movements are repeating… all of it!" Castle exclaimed. He glanced over to Brooks and tapped his finger excitedly on the monitor. "Do you see it?! Tell me you see this!"
"Mister Castle, it's nothing but…" The older man glanced to the monitor with an air of urgency still in his voice. But Castle knew the moment he saw it, for his voice stuttered before his mouth promptly slammed shut. The author looked back to the screen, and sure enough, a giant, slowly arcing 'U' was being traced on the metallic surface.
"What is he…?" Brooks hissed as he peered closer and closer to the scene replaying in front of them. "Why is he doing that?"
Keeping his eyes firmly trained on the screen, the author replied. "Well, he did call Oliver 'Corporal'. Maybe they knew each other."
The pieces that comprised that past few hours of chaos were slowly coming together, and as unbelievable as it was to the author, it was steadily making sense. DeWitt knew Oliver. That had to be it. That was his reasons for carrying on such a cryptic, nonsensical conversation the entire time Oliver was in the room. He wanted to get one final message across before died…
Another letter appeared, and suddenly one of Brooks' hands snatched up a small notepad and a pen. Another letter slowly formed on the screen as the sound of the agent's pen scribbling onto paper filled the room. One by one, he wrote the letters down until Marcus stopped for a moment and began repeating them all over again.
"A-R-M-O-N-D-U-N." Brooks recited from the slip of paper. "That makes no sense."
Castle chewed his bottom lip in thought, scouring to the depths of his vocabulary for some inkling of what that meant. The agent was right; no word, not in any language he knew at the very least, existed with that spelling. Suddenly, the author smacked his forehead.
"It's not supposed to be one word. It's a block of separating words- a riddle." Seeing the blank look on the agent's face, Castle continued with motion of his hands down to the screen. "Think less Shakespeare and more Yoda."
"Then where would you separate them?" Brooks asked in a curiously cool manner as he pressed pause on the player.
The author returned the question with an odd look. "Well, at a glance only a few of them make sense, right? We're talking about a man's last message here, one that needed to be formed and told in the few minutes left of his life. It stands to reason that it would be one that couldn't be mistranslated- so that rules out jumbled lettering. So, there can only be a handful of combination of the sequential letters that spell words he knew we would understand."
Castle grabbed the scratch piece of paper and scribbled the letters down. "Let's see… A-R-M, arm. O-N, on. D-U-N, dun…"
"Dun?"
"Maybe Gaelic," Castle shook his head dismissively. "It's nothing. Just… well, let me try again."
He quickly scratched the line out and wrote it again. "Okay, Ar- Mond- Un…"
"Well," He stood back up, scratching his chin." "Ar could either be a code for pirate coordinates, which would be fantastic by the way. Or, something like… wait… Ar, it's an element… which is it… which is- ah-hah! Argon! Ar is the abbreviated symbol for the element Argon on the periodic table. Take that, Miss Croon!"
He did a little skip where he stood. Oh if that old battle-axe could see him now-
"…Mister Castle."
"Right," Castle cleared his throat and pointed down to the paper. "Mond is easy. That's a variant of Mound, and 'un' is… well, it could be French for A or One… No. No, that gibberish. "
Cursing under his breath, he quickly produced another line.
"That's very impressive, Mister Castle. You might have made a great agent after all." Brooks suddenly said in a strange, almost impressed tone. The author stilled his pen, wondering what he was implying.
"There's nothing in your case thus far that has hinted at a site in Louisiana?" The agent inquired. "That may very well be his message."
"Louisiana?" Castle turned to the elderly man. "What do you mean?"
"Argon." Brooks pointed to a large map of the country covering nearly the entirety of a wall behind him. "The spelling is a coded term for classified R&D sites within the continental United States- Argon is the 18th element, which corresponds into the numbering that denotes a state's admittance into the Union. The 18th element is the 18th state, hence Argon is Louisiana."
"The periodic table as a code?" Castle gave an involuntary shudder as he tried to push away a few errant, nightmarish images of a much younger version of himself sweating over a spreadsheet of the elements under Miss Croon's fiery gaze. "That's stretching it, don't you think? I mean, isn't that a bit convoluted?"
"You said less Shakespeare and more Yoda, yes? What better metaphor is there for dealing with the Federal government?" Brooks leveled a pointed look back at him. "Really Mister Castle, have you looked at your tax forms lately?"
"No comment and point taken." Castle gave the man an innocent smile before turning his attention back to the screen. "But to answer your question, no. Nothing has come up about Louisiana; just Georgia and New York- well, Kuwait, Afghanistan, and Florence too. What would Mound A be, by the way?"
"Simply put: the first and oldest Research and Development installation within the state."
"Specifically." Castle said pointedly.
Brooks gave a subtle shake of his head. "I wouldn't know. That sort of information is not in my line of work, nor is it anywhere near my pay grade. It could be anything from weapons to astrophysics or genetics."
"Would there be any way for you to find out? Say, friends in the division?"
"Friends…" Brooks said with a low, hollow chuckle. "I could make a call or two, but…"
"But, what?" Castle asked.
"The man lying in that room," he pointed to the fallen bodies on the other side of the double-sided mirror, "is someone I've known for five years. We shared beers around the grill, war stories- even a few friendly wagers on football games. He invited me to visit his hometown for Thanksgiving every single year. I don't have friends, Mister Castle, but if I ever had to imagine what it felt like to have one, he would have been it."
Castle gave a sympathetic nod of understanding. "And he betrayed you."
"That he did." Brooks said simply and surprisingly with no hint of anger in his voice. "This is uncharted territory. There is no protocol for continuing an investigation when any single individual in our national security personnel could very well be a part of this. For all intents and purposes, I have to assume that every person I've ever placed trust in could just as easily send me to my death rather than help us."
"But we have to do something." Castle replied imploringly. He had to do something, he thought furiously. Anything more than standing still would be a vast improvement on what he did for Marcus…
For a few moments, Brooks remained silent. His eyes stared down to the stilled screen and remained there. The author began to notice something changing in the man's expression. Where his face had been a kaleidoscope of nerves and paranoia since the shooting, little by little, those familiar, stony lines etched back onto his cheeks, forming into his usual grim frown.
"I'll make the call," he finally spoke, much to Castle's relief. "However, when I make it, I want you and Detective Beckett to be as far away from me as possible."
"Why?" Castle asked. "I thought we were taking those bodies to a nearby Body Farm?"
"No, there's a better way," he calmly replied. "I will go deliver the bodies to your Medical Examiner friend alone for the same reason we're putting them under her care."
"A diversion, I get that." Castle shook his head vigorously. "But, shouldn't we stay together?!"
"No," Brooks repeated as he gave a firm shake of his head. "We don't know who is coming for us, if any at all. However, I can assure you that they will be coming here to clean this up. We have to be proactive while we still have the slightest bit of advantage on our side. You're a learned man, Mister Castle, so I expect you to appreciate the old adage of not putting all of your eggs in one basket, and how appropriate it is in this situation. All I care about at this juncture is that I meet her at the Body Farm, do you understand?"
"Then what do you want me to do?"
Brooks held his finger out towards the screen for a moment. "That, Mister Castle. I want you to make sense of that."
Brooks bent down and pulled open the lowest drawer on the left side of the desk. He reached far into its back, then slowly pulled out, revealing a standard issue pistol just like the one strapped to his side. "Take this. You will need it."
Castle numbly looked on as the gun was slapped into his hand.
"So how am I supposed to find out what's in Louisiana?" He said nervously as he clumsily slipped the pistol into the right pocket of his jacket.
"Watch the tape." Brooks said with an uncharacteristic smile. "You've already found something, and if I were still a betting man, I'd wager that your answer is in there too."
Castle wordlessly nodded and looked back to the monitor. Minutes passed as both men stared intently at Marcus' sweeping hands. The motions soon became erratic, Marcus' glances towards the giant agent were coming quicker and quicker. It was about end, Castle thought bitterly. The poor man didn't even know that his life was a minute away from being taken. Then, just as he was about to rewind the tape, something caught his eye. In a flash, he stabbed the rewind button for just a moment before letting it go. As the tape resumed, his eyes trained on the spot where Marcus' hands were coming to rest after every letter. He held his breath, leaned closer to the screen. Then it happened; the very moment the final letter had been formed, Marcus made a quick gesture just before the message started over. It was only a flash in the span between them, a blur of his index and middle finger extending for the slightest of time before curling back into a relaxed grip with his others.
"I have to rewind it." Castle said suddenly as he pressed the button again.
"To what?"
"To the first time he drew out the letters."
He didn't have to far back, perhaps five minutes or so, before Marcus' hands became completely still. He let go of the button, letting it resume at its normal place, and hunkered over the desk to get as close to the screen as he could. Just a few moments passed and then the lightning fast gesture suddenly sprung from Marcus' hands- three fingers flashed then disappeared- just before he began spelling out…
"Two."
"I beg your pardon?" said the bewildered looking agent.
"Two meanings. Look at that. He signaled three fingers this time and…" Castle quickly smashed the fast-forward button, mentally checking off the letters, then as it repeated again, and then repeated once more. Then second signal flashed before Marcus started the same phrase over again. "…he wrote it out three times, before signaling with two fingers and resuming."
"So what's he implying?"
"My first guess? He's probably a ringer at charades. The first three times he wrote out the letters, he made a signal of three, stressing it for some reason. " Castle watched on with a growing smile as he saw Marcus repeat the phrase only twice this time. He took his finger off the button and let it play. Taking the pen in his hand, the author scribbled out the eight letters, and then wrote them out again right below it. "The second time he signaled with two fingers, see? Then he wrote the letters out just two more times. He's stressing-"
"-Yes, two." Brooks interjected. "But two of what?"
"Remember how I said that the letters can only form just a handful of sensible syllabic combinations?" Castle made two scratches with the pen before grabbing the notepad and holding it up to Brooks' face. "That's what he's doing. Three breaks for three fingers, two breaks for two fingers. The letters form two different meanings."
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"Hey Kevin, it's Friday night for crying out loud. You're too young to be wasting it in the bullpen!" the boisterous voice of Karpowski sounded right behind the young Irishman before a hand slapped down onto his shoulder. "Go out and show that fiancé of yours a night on the town, why-don't-cha?"
Kevin turned slightly and gave an absent glance up to the woman. "Uh… okay."
Just as he directed his focus back onto the computer, she spoke up again. "Are you going to be here for a while?"
"Uh, yeah," he said as he typed his next query into the state database. He pressed enter and immediately grimaced- there was no Paul Krashinko in the entirety of the state.
A throat cleared behind him. He peered over his shoulder to see Karpowski still standing there with a dubious look on her face. "Doing what?"
"The same as always, Janet." He said in the most convincing nonchalant voice he could muster. "Paperwork."
"Well that sucks. Better you than me though!" The woman clicked her tongue before the sound of her footsteps echoed down the path to the elevator. "Don't get buried in that stuff!"
With a tired smile, he shook his head and went back searching for the good doctor. This wasn't making a lick of sense. Two bodies found side by side, one a Senator on the Armed Services Committee and the other some geneticist, according to Brooks. Yet beyond their death, their commonalities were nonexistent. There wasn't a single charity, organization, or area of living where Burbury had ever been attached to that bore Krashinko's name.
It's almost as if this guy was a-
"He worked at the CDC!"
Ryan's head shot up to see his partner jogging through the bullpen, waving a file over his head.
"Javi?" Ryan stood up as his partner came to a screeching halt by their joined desks. "Who worked-"
"Krashinko," Esposito paused to catch his breath as he slapped the file down on to his desk. "I ran down Paul Krashinko on the Fed's database. He was an employee at the CDC in Atlanta."
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"Isn't one enough?" Brooks said pointedly, doubt etched all over his worn face. "How can you be sure of that?"
"Well, if what you're saying is true about Louisiana, then obviously we've found one meaning already." Castle looked down at the line he hadn't scratched through yet. "That really just leaves two more combinations off the top of my head."
"Just two?" Brooks echoed.
The author shrugged, keeping his eyes on the paper. "Unless we start going into acronyms, I honestly don't see-
"Un…" Without warning, Brooks snatched up the pen and paper. Just as Castle was about to ask him what he was doing, the agent made to quick scratchest and promptly flipped the pad around for him to see.
"Armond…Un…?" Castle's mouth suddenly dropped. "U-N, surely he can't mean…"
"The United Nations?" Brooks leveled his gaze right back at him. "I don't see what would be so farfetched with that. We are talking about the murderers of a dead Senator here, yes?"
The author fell silent and leaned down onto the desk, cradling his shaking head into his hands. How big was this? How deep did Rathborne go? In that moment, it was as if all the pieces that he thought were making sense, were slowly edging closer and closer to their rightful place, scattered into the winds like a hammer just fell upon it all. He squeezed his eyes tightly. Words began to zoom around his mind- like desert and government, Florence and New York- each looking for a tether of similarity to attach itself to, unfortunately to no avail. Somewhere in this whole mess had to be a lead, something that tied it all together.
"Wait!" Brooks suddenly shouted, causing the author to jump in shock. "Rewind it now."
"Look," he shouted again. "He just wrote a 'B' on the table."
He looked down the video, only seconds remained. Oliver's hand was already sneaking its way towards his hidden firearm, and Marcus- poor Marcus- his hands were flying with a urgency he wondered why he hadn't noticed at the time. He heard a sound somewhere in the distance, but he remained focused on Marcus' moving hands. With each new letter he whispered out, a feeling of shock from somewhere in the pit of stomach, grew and grew.
"B… A… C… C… H… U… S… " Castle whispered to himself. "B-A-"
The sound of a gun exploding through the speaker made him recoil back in shock, and once again, he watched Marcus' body go limp and fall to the floor. He didn't waste another breath. His finger was jammed down on the rewind button without a second thought.
"Bacchus." And just like that, his eyes still transfixed to the looping image of Marcus' last words, a single image of a statue surrounded by candles and cups burned into his mind. "…I think I know where he wants us to go. I think I know where we're going to find our answer."
"Bacchus is, well…" The author stopped and silently cursed under his breath at their luck. "It's the Roman name of the Greek god Dionysus."
"That's great and all, but what does that have to do with Armond or DeWitt?"
"I don't know what it has to do with this Armond person, but…" Castle pointed down to the paper once again, "It has everything to do with Marcus DeWitt because there's a shrine to Dionysus in his basement."
Brooks cocked his head to the side and gave a hollow laugh. "No shit?"
Castle shook his head. "None at all."
Yet, just as the author wrapped his hand around the slip paper, a bloodcurdling scream blasted from the room adjoining theirs. The scream was carrying his name.
"Castle!"
He looked up, his heart exploding in his chest, as he watched the most beautiful pair of honey-brown eyes he had ever seen unleash a torrent of tears. His throat seized, thickening with emotion as the indestructible body of his muse, his partner- no, the love of his life- trembled like a leaf in a building storm just before she crumbled to the ground awash in grief.
He was sure that Brooks was saying something, but it didn't penetrate him. All he could see was her trembling hand reaching for the sheets that covered the body beside her as though she was about to uncover her deepest nightmare. All the author could hear as he burst out of the Observation room to reach Beckett was her desperate wails for him to wake up.
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AN: For all the folks who had a Miss Croon (name changed to protect the innocent) for science class, I feel your pain. As you guys probably noticed, I tried my best to cut out a little of the narration in this one for the sake of fluidity. I would love to hear what you guys think about this chapter! We'll be leaving the Day Care next chapter.
Finally, very special thanks to msTGR for inspiring the Shakespeare and Yoda line.