Stay in Touch

Chapter 52

Kate stares across the table at Rick. "Babe, you should eat something. You look like a truck ran over you."

Rick shakes his head. "Maybe later. I may have had some success finding a lead on the bomber, but the dreck that I had to wade through to get it wasn't exactly appetizing."

"What did you find?"

Rick pushes out of his chair to grab a sheet of paper from the desk in his office and hands it to Kate. "Here."

"It looks like it's from the kind of nutcase who would have bombed No Walls. That doesn't prove anything, but it might be a place to start. What's refiner's fire?"

"It's all over the Bible in various forms, most notably Isaiah 48.10, 'Behold, I have refined you, but not as silver; I have tried you in the furnace of affliction.' It's also the name of a praise song. There's a line in it: "I choose to be holy, set apart for you my master; ready to do your will." This guy thinks he's doing the will of God, like every knight who swung a sword in the crusades, every jihadist, the Spanish inquisitors, and the assholes who burn crosses. And if it is him, and he isn't stopped, we could see a lot more conflagrations."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Figure out how to get whatever big guns are involved to track him down and drag him in for questioning. If he is just some harmless crazy, maybe they can get him some help. But if the bastard isn't, maybe you can keep him from trying to refine anyone else."

"Babe, this is a Homeland Security case. The N.Y.P.D. is just providing support, but I can talk to my watch commander. He may be able to get to the captain in charge of coordinating those efforts and convince her to reach out."

"Do it, Kate, before anyone else goes up in flames."


Captain Victoria Gates points her folded reading glasses at Sergeant Brad Toomey. "Now let me get this straight. Some writer dug up a post in a chatroom from some crazy he thinks is the bomber. His wife, a cop barely past being a rookie, brought it to you, and you want me to get a warrant to find out who this guy is."

Toomey presses his lips together. "It's not just some writer and green cop. Those are the two who were instrumental in putting William Bracken and Dick Coonan behind bars. The author, Richard Castle, came up with the key behind solving the ATM robberies too. And," Toomey holds up crossed fingers, "he's apparently like this with our new mayor."

Gates lays her glasses on her desk and nods. "Bob Weldon and I go way back. He went to law school with my sister. They were an item for a while. All right, if he tells me he's willing to stand behind this Richard Castle and the overachieving Kate Beckett, I'll try to push it through with Homeland Security." She picks up her glasses again and perches them on the tip of her nose. "It may not be easy. Fallon, the agent in charge, is a real hardass, but I can be too."

Toomey suppresses a smile. "Thank you, Captain. I appreciate it."


Mark Fallon rereads the request from Captain Gates. It looks ridiculous, but he doesn't have much else. The lab came up empty. No fingerprints, no DNA. The bomb was constructed with off the shelf parts available almost anywhere. The accelerant could be bought for cash in any hardware store. The explosive was homemade, from common materials, but didn't match the chemical signature in any previous bombing. The bomber has some technical skill but may be a first timer.

Fallon is agonizingly aware that if the heads ups that crossed certain desks before 9/11 had been given more credence, his wife wouldn't have ridden the second tower down. An unlikely clue is better than none at all, and with his broad powers under the Patriot Act, he should be able to squeeze whoever is necessary to uncover Refiner's Fire's identity. He can only hope that it won't be a dead end.


The lab and workshop Mochlin George set up in a storage unit isn't very large and could be a lot better ventilated. The fumes from the acids he's using to nitrate the solvent he so easily obtained are making his eyes tear and burning the skin on his face, but God will bring healing. He always does. He's given Mochlin everything he's needed to carry out his commission.

Mochlin smiles contentedly as his solution becomes a deeper yellow. It will be ready soon. The voice has guided him toward the next den of vipers to be cleansed. The club uptown is a mockery of God's laws. Men dressed like women perform to cheering audiences before indulging in… Mochlin can't let the images contaminate his mind. To even think about such evil is a transgression. He gazes toward his flask again. It won't be long now before he can vanquish more of the devil's servants, not long at all.


"So Homeland Security is on board?" Rick questions.

Kate blows out a deep breath. "That's what Toomey told me he heard from Captain Gates."

"Yeah, Weldon called me and said he'd heard from her too. I guess the two of us hit DHS in a pincer movement of sorts." Rick drops onto the couch. "I just hope my lead on Refiner's Fire pans out before he can burn anyone else."

Kate takes a seat beside him. "So do I, but we've done all we can for now."

Rick thumbs a strand of hair out of her face. "I didn't even ask what strides you made against the more everyday criminal element today. Any decent collars?"

"More like an indecent collar. There was a creep hanging around Our Lady of Pompei."

"The elementary school?"

"Uh huh. He was exposing himself. It was like a bad joke, except to the kids; he was actually wearing a raincoat."

"That wouldn't have been enough to keep him warm in this weather."

"Apparently it wasn't. The kids didn't get much to see."

Laughter explodes from Rick, releasing more pressure than he knew he'd been holding inside, and Kate starts to giggle. Rick rubs tears from his cheeks. Oh God, I needed that. I mean, I'm glad you and Marica got that guy away from the playground, but the picture in my mind is priceless."

Kate kisses the tip of his nose. "You're looking better than you have since this ugly business started."

"I feel better. I know it, Kate, in my gut. Refiner's Fire is the No Walls bomber. If Homeland Security, the N.Y.P.D., or anyone else can dig him out of his hole, the nightmare in this city will be over. And you know what else is in my gut?"

"I'm afraid to ask."

"Trick question. Absolutely nothing. I'm starving. How about if we order a pizza, with everything on it?"

"And by everything you mean?"

"Sausage, pepperoni, mushrooms, banana peppers, and black olives."

Kate wrinkles her nose. "My Nonna would be ashamed of me, but I don't like olives, especially not on pizza. Sun-dried tomatoes?"

Rick grins. "You've got a deal."


Mochlin pulls his flask out of the cooling bath. The solid inside looks perfect. If he works the rest of the night, he should have his vessel of holy fire ready tomorrow.