Chapter 55 – Digging in
Previously: Kate and Esposito are the target of a negative press article and the media pack have descended on the Loft. Who is behind it? How do they respond?
Disclaimer – Naturally I don't own Castle or any of the characters. All the other legal stuff applies too.
A/N – the timelines for this chapter overlap with the previous chapter (54) – it is still Tuesday.
Beesley, Wax & Drummond Lawyers, Main Conference Room, Tuesday morning
Jim Beckett could feel his butt going to sleep even if his mind wasn't. He should be more engaged in the meeting especially as it pertained to the future of the firm, but somehow he couldn't keep his mind off his new girlfriend. He made a point of not looking at her, well aware that their agreement to keep everything professional at work wouldn't stand a chance if they couldn't actually stop acting like love-sick teenagers at the slightest glance.
He forced his focus back to the room. The staff meeting was not going well. Recently none of them had, but this one was a special train wreck all of the Chief Operating Officer's making.
Jeff Beesley, scion and undoubtedly lesser light of the firm's former head partner, was in a real spot and he was taking it out on the staff. Boy was he pissed.
Another three clients had departed as soon as they had been informed via last week's glossy brochure spruiking the new direction for 'BWD'. Commissioned by the Chief Operating Officer without input from the other partners, the electronic and paper versions had been disturbed just last Friday. And between Monday and this morning those three clients worth about ten percent of the firms regular billables had departed. That in itself had been the cause for a vicious and frank exchange of views between the partners not two hours earlier according to the water cooler scuttle-butt throughout the firm.
Jim knew it was bad because Val was still seething. Her normal response was flare fast and viciously and settle in a cool, frosty demeanour. Today she hadn't. He could tell from her stiff, upright posture and hooded eyes. He had made sure to keep his averted and off her except for brief glances. Fortunately most of the staff were doing exactly the same. And with the other partners too.
He wished he could offer her some form of support than his remote presence. But she had shaken him off with the most subtle of head movements as they been in proximity in the corridor before the meeting, and he respected her wishes.
Everything was still too new. Their weekend together – aside from his visit to Rick's home (and Kate's he reminded himself) – appeared surreal in light of the events at work and their inability to exchange more than a handful of words due to caseloads and workload.
Jim Beckett as was his wont had remained silent through delivery of the news and lively debate now sparking up in the conference room. One of the clients to walk was one of his. But he had nothing meaningful to add to the debate if it could be called that.
Suddenly, his mobile started to vibrate. He can see Katie's image on the screen.
His innate belief in the importance of family means he'll take this every time. He'd let their family down before, and never again.
"Excuse I need to take this call." His politeness won through as always, announcing his need to step out. Despite the already raised voices, his level tone somehow penetrates the din. He rises and heads for the door without waiting for a response.
"You can't leave. I didn't give you permission…..:"
Before Jeff can speak further Val intervenes.
"Let him go Jeff. It will be his daughter so it will be important." Despite her anger she is coldly polite. Viciously so, and no one in the room misses it. Moreover, few miss her knowledge of his personal priorities. Jim Beckett was not a social butterfly. Not a cold fish either, but most in the room could be pretty sure that no one else knew that piece of information about his life.
"No. I forbid it." The less than manly quaver at the end of the attempted command didn't help Jeff Beesley try to impose his will.
Jim ignored him and in spite of the instructions he left the conference room, closing the door firmly behind him and headed down the hallway to find a quiet nook a good twenty yards from the conference room.
"Hi Katie, everything okay?"
As his daughter filled him in Jim Beckett found that his morning could indeed get worse.
Returning to the conference room, Jim was immediately struck by the vastly increased tension in the room. Some of the junior staff and even a few of the others looked, well, aghast. What the hell had happened?
Val had risen from her seat and was now directly facing a still seated but clearly uncomfortable, possibly even intimidated Jeff Beesley.
"Everyone else OUT! NOW!" Her voice brooked no discussion or objection. Compliance was the only option. Everyone including the other senior partners moved.
"Jim please stay. This concerns you." He'd never seen her like this. Not sure if he wanted to. Just as hard as Katie in full cop mode – he could still remember the last time she had done that to him before gave up drinking for good.
It took less than sixty seconds for the other occupants to file out - hastily, no lollygagging - passing by a for-now silently raging Val. Jim didn't miss that two of the four other senior partners didn't look Val in the eye. Stalemate. Three versus Three. Beesley had at least two bought. For now.
Once all the other staff had left, only then did Val speak again.
"God Damn You. You immature child." Definitely lost her cool Jim observed. Something more than pure business was at stake here.
"Look what your actions are doing! We lost nearly ten percent of our regular income in twenty-four hours. Income is down almost forty percent on last year and outgoings are up."
"We'll have more than triple the income with our new clients. You're not seeing the big picture Valerie." So condescending but she skates past that, not dignifying it with a response.
"So you say, but not of that is actually definite. None of the other partners nor I have seen any sign of the new clients or especially the fee structure."
"Yeah well you've been too busy with your new boyfriend." Jim's jaw dropped just a little at that. How did he know?
"Whom I date is absolutely none of the firm's and especially your business." She's not giving an inch.
"It does if they work here and it effects the firm."
"Never stopped plenty of the partners in the past. Especially your family. Your father at least had the decency to only try to bed me once – even if I was already married to another partner, mind you he was married too. That didn't stop him either." This was spat at the man.
Jim's mind was struggling to catch up with the implications of Val's statement and seemingly uncontested acceptance by Jeff. Had he tried to bed Val too?
Looking directly at Jim the next words were like a blow.
"Well I wouldn't touch you now after him."
Beesley's sneering insult caught both of them by complete surprise. And confirmed Jim's suspicions. A strong dislike of the pathetic figure was now manifesting as hatred. Jim was already moving in anticipation of the reaction Jeff's abhorrent words would evoke.
Momentarily baulking with shock, Val's reactions were just slow enough that Jim managed to reach her before she took Jeff's head off. Jim caught her arm as gently as he could.
Val's hand stayed raised, the tension in her body transmitted to his through his now strained grip on her upper arm which he slid up to her wrist and lower hand. Not the way he had envisaged first holding hands at work.
Jim understood. A large part of him wanted to punch out the pitiful excuse for a man opposite them.
"Go on." Jeff taunted her. "I can't wait to see you get what you deserve."
"Is that a threat Jeff? Because it damn well sounds like one." Cold fire emanated from her tone.
Val decided to appraise Jim of what transpired during his absence.
"Go on Jeff, why don't you repeat what you said when James was out of the room. Explain why we're here now."
Jeff Beesley rose from his seat and despite his attempted bravado nervously eyed up the couple before retreating a few steps out of reach before speaking. Jim decided it was safe release Val's arm.
"I simply noted that this firm does not condone nor sanction unbilled work for family members, especially in the case of potential criminal proceedings. That needs clearance from the COO or the full partner board meeting.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Jim couldn't help himself. He hadn't been so unprofessional in an office since it was the alcohol talking for him.
"Your daughter. She was suspended by the NYPD and there is a strong possibility of wrongful death suit."
Jim won't let that falsehood stand. He advances on Jeff and is satisfied as the man retreats a pace.
"My daughter is a great cop. Her professional record is none of your Goddamn business. But for the record it's pretty damn exemplary aside from one incite for which she was suspended. That proscribed penalty for her only formal disciplinary breach was served six months ago and she has resumed her career and is now being promoted. She has been given the full support of the NYPD. She is presently on officially approved leave to look after her partner."
Whilst he was angry, the overwhelming emotion was curiosity tinged with concern, varying towards near paranoia. How the hell did Jeff know all this about his daughter? The news article had only been in circulation for a handful of hours. As far as he was aware the partners had been sequestered in meetings since well before office hours.
Who the hell had tipped him off? And why? Why is this man so interested in his daughter?
He had a suspicion. One that filled him with dread and an overwhelming need to also protect Val from his family's tragedy. But he can't and won't say anything now. Not with HIM present.
In the angry pause Val decides to address the original point.
"None of that was going on. It wasn't billable to the firm. It was a favour. I represented James as his friend."
Jeff's expression left no doubt about how he perceived that friendship.
Jim balled his fists but held his tongue.
"So you feel comfortable doing….." Val cut him off.
"No Jeff." She's regained her sangfroid and the tone is icy cold.
"Should you ever have a partner, it would have once been nice to assume you would do something similar. But as all you do is fuck people over for personal benefit and you oversized ego, it's not something I shudder to think I will have to contemplate."
"Well your antics won't concern this firm or me for much longer. We may be stalemated at the moment but once the new income starts flowing in then I'm confident who the other partners and staff will support the new approach. I'll exercise the option to buy your late husband's shares."
With that final statement Jeff Beesley retreats from the conference room leaving Val and Jim somewhat shell-shocked by developments.
New York Banking Commission.
Miles Gold was comfortable. More than comfortable to be honest. He had his middle management role as a senior auditor at the commission which paid comfortably well. Even more so when you considered he covertly traded information for more wealth diligently hidden offshore, a lifetime of auditing others had shown him many new tricks and more importantly which ones worked.
From his briefcase he lifts the burner phone and enters the passcode. Unlocked he dials the one number. He lets it ring three times and hangs up.
A minute later a message arrives with a new number to call. Using the burner phone, dials the new number. After one ring it is answered.
No voice responds but he can hear breathing so he speaks. It is ever thus.
"Two federal agents arrived yesterday. FBI and I think Attorney General's office.
"They had warrants for electronic and paper copies of statements and transaction histories for New Delaware Bank and Tri-State Savings and Loan from 1996 through to 2005."
There is no response but he senses the unasked question.
"There shouldn't have been anything to give them except for the summaries but there was. We had to comply. I don't know what happened or how they knew."
There is a click and the connection is broken.
"For the first time in a long time, Miles begins to doubt himself. More importantly be concerned about the faceless people he feeds information too. The information he provides for this particular anonymous customer is so mundane and yet they pay well, almost too well.
He'll ditch the burner phone and stay low for a while. Certainly until the Feds have left town.
Columbia University, Lecture Theatre C3, Tuesday 11.14 am
Alexis Castle, correction Alexis Rodgers as she was known at college, was not paying attention. Which was moderately weird and out of character. Especially as she normally loved Professor Haussman's class. She was taking it for extra credit – psychology wasn't one of her main subjects – but it was usually interesting and easy if truth be told.
She was actually doodling on her notepad. Not taking notes. She was kinda old school like her Dad in this respect. Lots of gadgets but analog writing still held a lot of appeal, especially note taking as she found it helped retention. Not paying attention wasn't a big issue per se, as she like the rest of the class could access the podcast later.
But doodling?! Who was she? Her Dad?
Oh worse. Look what she was carefully writing out.
'Alexis Beckett-Rodgers.' Repeated through the margins and across the page. Oh crap. Well it kinda made sense. She should be mortified but somehow it didn't phase her not after the discussion she had had with Kate Beckett.
Saturday night after her Dad had crashed she had found herself talking with Kate in the kitchen. Chatting about nothing. Laughing about less. Having a sip of the wine she had poured herself. Kate had merely blinked once and remarked when Alexis looked at her quizzically that it would be extremely hypocritical of her if she was to be negative about a college student drinking responsibly. There was so much on that last word. Alexis wanted to ask but didn't. Her relationship with Kate was still finding its feet especially when her Dad wasn't around. But moments like this didn't feel as strained and they were rebuilding the friendly rapport and natural trust from years ago.
Grams had arrived about half-way through the glass and made no comment other than to reach for another empty glass and push it across towards the bottle on the bench. Kate had poured the diva a generous serve which had been gratefully received.
They had fallen back into the conversation until Grams, being Grams of course, had turned to Alexis and ever so smugly asked if this was 'a getting to know your next and hopefully last Stepmom' moment?
Alexis emboldened by the presence of her father back in their home, even if asleep – probably for the best - and the best part of a glass of rich, deep, fruity red wine had responded. 'Well you know me…..Alexis Beckett-Rodgers.'
Kate had blanched, with Alexis's gut sinking the girl's face had matched the other woman's. Then a tear appeared in Kate's right eye and after a growing anxious silence the temporarily-not-Detective responded.
"I prefer Castle myself. Kate Castle, although I will say Katherine Beckett-Rodgers does have a nice ring to it." She reached across to Alexis and squeezed her hand. "I would be honoured if you were willing to share any part of our names."
Alexis has immediately teared up herself before Gram opened her mouth once again.
"Well that's the whole point my Dear. A ring. I really don't know what's got into him. That Boy is usually much more on the ball."
"God Grams." Alexis chided her grandmother but Kate smooths things over and then some.
"It's okay. We're both definitely moving towards that. Please give us time. I want nothing more than a ring from Rick someday soon." Both red heads perked up at that before Kate left them floored when she continued. "Maybe I'll give him a ring."
The silent thrum of her phone bought Alexis back to Professor Haussman's lecture. Oh a message from Dad.
Oh Oh! No simply text from him. Of course.
It was an image. A Castle – a medieval French château she absently noted, middle period when they were still primarily functional before the onset of gunpowder if she was right - surrounded by the four horsemen of the Apocalypse wearing press hats and holding cameras.
Trouble!? Well it was her Dad….still…something out of the ordinary was happening.
Of course the accompanying message was totally discordant with the image.
'Log coordinates. Away team will come to you. Tasha Yar commanding.'
Only her Dad would mix medieval with Sci-Fi. Cowboys and Sci-Fi she could understand even support mostly unless it involved dress up. Oh well.
This wasn't good. It was part of the fun yet serious code her Dad developed when she was old enough to understand the less positive parts of his public life. The Loft Castle had a press the horsemen presence, lots if the image was any indication. Also there was a security issue and Clare Dunn aka Tasha Yar – of course would be contacting her.
She wondered what's going on. All focus on the lecture dropping away as she bought up Google and committed the cardinal sin of the famous entering her father's name.
Oh.
NYPD Press Statement
Issued on behalf of Thomas Delaney, Chief of Detectives, and Captain Victoria Gates, 12th Precinct.
A number of claims and insinuations have been made in certain sections of the press regarding the conduct of the NYPD and two our officers. We do not normally address such matters but both officers, veteran detectives, have waived their right to anonymity.
Firstly the information published by a number of news sources was illegally obtained from internal New York Police Department records relating to personnel and disciplinary matters. As such it is a complete breach of confidentiality and the duty of care owned by the NYPD to the officers. The department will be taking appropriate legal action. Anyone considering publishing or otherwise sharing the information is advised to seek legal counsel before doing so.
Secondly, with respect to the incident in question on 24 May this year, the New York Police Department deeply regrets the death of Mr Borrens. It is correct that he had assisted the officers in their investigation. However, what the previous press coverage failed to mention was that after Mr Borrens opened the room using his master key, he was then requested to return to the front desk by Detective Esposito. Both officers then entered the apartment and conducted a search. Unknown to them Mr Borrens choose to remain immediately outside the apartment. It was here some minutes later that he was attacked and murdered by a single blow from the mercenary killer, Cedric Marks.
The suspect - Cedric Marks, a former special services soldier - was being sought for the murder of robbery suspect, Orlando Costa, and the attempted murder of Detective Beckett amongst others. He is suspected of being involved in at least three other murders. The suspect died a day later when a booby trapped safe exploded whilst he was trying to retrieve its contents.
Neither detective was aware of Mr Borrens failure to follow the instruction until they found his body after recovering from being ambushed themselves by the suspect.
The NYPD does not normally respond to specific allegations made however Detectives Beckett and Esposito have both waved their rights to have the offenses remain confidential under the NYPD code of conduct and disciplinary rules.
Following the incident a command review lead by Captain Gates identified a number of clear breaches of regulations relating to chain of command, and pursuit. As a result of the breaches both the officers were put at risk and injured by the suspect. Regrettably Mr Borrens failure to comply with the detective's instruction resulted in him being killed by the suspect but there was no direct breach found in the case of Mr Borrens unfortunate death. Captain Gates imposed 40 day suspensions on both detectives.
The matter was reviewed by the NYPD's Internal Investigations team and Professional Standards. Captain Gates' penalty of the 40 days suspension without pay was found to be in line with current policy for the specific breaches.
Detective First Grade Kate Beckett and Detective Second Grade Javier Esposito are long serving officers with near-exemplary service records with multiple citations and decorations for valor and good conduct. There were the first and only formal reprimands for both detectives. Both accepted the proscribed disciplinary penalty and have since returned to full active service. The purpose of the disciplinary process is to correct abnormal behaviour and where possible return officers back to duty as wholly effective members of the police service as has happened in this case.
The NYPD will make further comment when appropriate, and reserves the right to take legal action to protect the reputation and effectiveness of the force and its officers.
The Loft
The Taylor Matthews door guardian had demanded id before admitting her but Susanne White had simply acquiesced without fuss, much as she went about most of her life. Her arrival at the Loft would be her first meeting with Kate Beckett who waiting inside the door.
"Hello Miss Beckett."
"Kate." Beckett corrects her. She hadn't been called Miss for so long. Beckett, Detective, Kate. Miss Beckett feels alien.
"Kate. It is a pleasure to meet you at last. Steve has told me a bit about you, and that one" she indicates Castle hovering in the background. "Well he doesn't shut up."
A small laugh escapes her before Kate can clamp down.
Then waving generally in the author's direction the lawyer adds "Hello Rick."
"Hi Susanne. It must be serious you're here."
"What can I say? Steve plays a mean game of scissors, paper, rock."
"Look I don't have any further updates for the issue but my intention now is for verifying the facts of the media reports, and determining how best move forward in response. Your restraint so far has been admirable."
Kate is interested by the woman. She appears sharp, alert and probably entirely professional if Rick's track record of employing the best was any indicator. But she looked like a soccer mom. She's far too tactful to raise the point, but the equally appraising gaze coming back indicated she too is under observation.
Interestingly this appears to be one of the times Rick doesn't pick up on the interchange between the two women but he is also hanging back. So Kate guides their guest into the kitchen, and after they had grabbed coffee they sat at the dining table and got to the purpose of the visit.
"As you know the NYPD has just issued a statement repudiating the version published on the web." Kate nods. She had a call from Captain Gates to give her warning.
"We are still no closer to finding out the source of the information, the motivation or even the author. The NYPD and Taylor Matthews are investigating too but there is no quick wins here.
"Kate, I need to you review the press articles and confirm the facts for me."
Kate had found the situation wryly amusing. Being interrogated and asked for her version of events to queried and checked seemed so wrong.
Rick watched from the comfort of the couch as Susanne questioned Kate and listened to the honest and open answers flowing from his Detective. He could never think of her as anything else. Even with all the other things he can call her, her very essence is wrapped up in that role, just as he is a writer, and whilst he knows she may not always work as detective, she will always be one. And his too.
Kate had seen Susanne out. And decided not to disturb the now dozing man. Picking up his discarded tablet she swipes the security code in and then almost drops the thing.
Celebrity Freak Website
Bada-Boom Beckett. Cop Castle's Cutie working Vice!
Shit!
Kate knew that image. She hadn't seen it for years. Taken when she was in Vice. It had been a particularly freaky night and she had taken down two suspects single handed and in the process her undercover attire had been compromised. Well that was the diplomatic way of saying she had become somewhat overexposed but not to obscene levels. Titillation is probably an apt description. Of course then had been press on the scene as part of the mayors big clean up. The pictures had done the rounds of the bulletin board for a week or so until dying out.
Oh double fuck. This was really getting annoying.
She resisted the temptation to wake Rick, and decided to call Paula herself to get the issue handled and the lawyers on the case. Again.
This was really starting to piss her off.
Columbia University Dorms.
Alexis had returned to her dorm room after the lecture. Carrie was out but Alexis wished she was here. She could do with a distraction or two. Otherwise she would be back looking at the terrible things some segments of the media and worse bloggers and social media were saying about Kate Beckett and in some cases her Dad. Whoever was the target it was her family and she had to fight the urge to post back.
There had been a message not thirty minutes earlier from Paula advising the self-same thing. Don't look and especially don't comment.
She was interrupted by her phone.
"Hello Alexis."
"Clare?"
"Yeah. How you doing?"
"Okay. Nothing wrong here. But what's going on?"
"Nothing too serious. So with the negative press and extra attention we figured it was time to provide some close protection for a little while."
"Oh is that really necessary?"
"Yes." Typical Clare near monosyllabic if possible, and she could make Kate look like her Dad or Gram.
"We have a specialist joining you. Jane Sinclair will be with you in two hours. She doesn't report back to your Dad or even Kate. Unless it is a serious threat she'll keep every confidence like a proper bestie.
"Just like we ran through in training?" Alexis checks.
"Former school friend, visiting for a couple of days. It is as good as any story. But you can run through it when Jane arrives."
The Loft.
Rick had woken from his nap and he and Kate had talked through the latest developments over an extremely muted late lunch. Martha had joined them towards the end and had scarcely contributed more to the proceedings, or eaten anything.
Martha can't face the disconsolate faces around her any longer, and decides it is time to put her master plan into effect. She knows her son can't usually abide her interference but she's sat on the sidelines too long. She has been an unwilling witness to the years stuttering between them and now they're finally almost there she's not willing to let them backslide. Of course she can't decide whether to make the plan known now and share with them or wait and surprise them.
She knows exactly what will be good for them.
Her actress genes win out with surprise the order of the say. So having decided to wait, she moves back upstairs to her bedroom.
Locating her cell phone, she pulls her contacts book out. Flipping through the pages she finds a Hamptons number and dials. It takes quite a few rings but eventually it is answered.
"Louis?" There is a dull reply at the other end that brightens as the person recognises Martha' voice.
"Louis, how are you Dear?" Martha deliberately keeps her tone upbeat.
She listens patiently as one of her dearest friends from decades in the theatre understandably listlessly updates her on life without his darling wife. Frankie died some fifteen months ago after a sudden and typically late diagnosis of pancreatic cancer. Martha sees him regularly, every trip to the Hamptons if she can, and their circle of friends pull Louis away from the loneliness of his memories when they can.
"Look I am sorry to impose but do you have the name of the firm who did that lovely work for you the last summer. You know on the conservatory conversion. They were so quick and efficient."
When they decided to bring Frankie home from the hospice, they had converted the sunroom of their Hamptons beach house into an all-in-one living place for the dying woman. Whilst visiting the terminal woman, Martha had met the builder and his men and been charmed by their manner, efficiency, diligence and workmanship. And also their humanity in dealing with the clearly very sick and dying woman and her distraught husband.
She has exactly the need for those same skills for her plan to work.
"You do? Excellent. I hope you don't mind the intrusion." She goes quiet as listens to the former theatre producer expound upon the work done and how it has helped Frankie.
"Yes, I am thinking that something similar for Richard. He needs somewhere quiet to convalesce away from the city. But we'll keep that to ourselves for now, you know how children are with their parents interfering."
Louis speaks again and Martha can't but help smile in pride. Her son affects so many people.
"Oh Louis, it is so kind of you to think of Richard. I know he will be pleased to hear what you did in his name. Of course I'm not sure it will be good for his ego, but he does deserve it this time. Louis has sponsored a bookcase at the Hampton's main library in her son's name. Hence forth when citizen went in search of Crime novels they would be found housed in the Richard Castle Case. Oh Richard would be proud and somewhat vain when he discovered that.
Having got the name and phone number from Louis she hangs up with a promise (actually meant) to visit soon.
She walks to her dresser and pulls out a pad and with pen in hand dials the number of the construction firm. After feeling largely useless since Richard's shooting Martha feels a little empowered. She can do this, and just like Doctor Clemens had advised she can make herself useful.
Columbia Dorms, mid afternoon
Carrie, Alexis' roommate, had been and gone. She has agreed to bunk at another room for a couple of days. Her arched look at Jane had made Alexis want to simultaneously laugh and punch her for her assumption and insinuation.
Jane for her part had simply shrugged gently and sat back looking everything like a young college student and nothing like a high-trained bodyguard.
They were going to head out and grab some coffee and snacks and have a chance to get to know each other.
There's a knock at the door. Alexis starts for the door before she remembers to check with her bodyguard.
"That's okay. Just answer as normal Alexis." Both Clare and Jane had been fairly adamant that the risk was relatively low, and that Alexis should carry on as normal as much as possible.
She opens the door, and short of a kidnapper or journalist – she's not sure which is worse at the moment - there is the person she least wants to see.
It is a tentative Max on the other side. If he was any more nervous he'd be hoping from one foot to the other. She's seen her Dad do that, and Alexis smiles at this memory. Despite her residual anger and her harsh stare at him, she is suddenly lost for words.
Max mistakenly assumes he has permission to enter and seeing her smile he steps into the room and mistakenly tries to wrap Alexis up in a hug assuming maybe he was forgiven.
Fat chance.
In hindsight his assumptions are a very bad mistake as the next thing Max is certain of is that the dorm floor is very solid, his right arm is locked at a more than somewhat painful angle and who the hell is the blonde chick with the solid death grip?
Alexis can't help smirking just a little. This is something satisfying about watching Max squirm. She'd have to ask Kate about that. Asking her Dad would undoubtedly leave him tongue-tied and also the subject was too icky for parent-talk.
Secretly she's also impressed with Jane's speed and skills. Max wasn't a jock but he was fairly well developed and certainly bigger than Jane. And yet Jane had taken only moments to render him immobile on the floor.
Jane looks back at her just for a second, the question etched on a raised eyebrow.
Her conscience gets the better of her. She shakes her head. Jane releases Max and steps round him to close the door.
Max's eyes are darting back and forward between the two as he slowly raises to his feet, rubbing his right arm and shoulder.
"Who?" His power of speech returns.
"Jane's an old friend. Visiting for a couple of days." Probably not going to fly unless you believe ninja-like blonde chicks with catchy dress sense. Probably only in a Tarantino movie too.
Yeah Max doesn't look like he's sold on that line.
"Well can she give us a moment?" But he's not going to call her on it. Not directly. Chicken.
Jane's shake of the head and serious demeanour signifies no. Alexis frowns back at her and this time Jane shrugs in acceptance. But before she leaves the room and her charge, Jane decides to do some reinforcing of her own. As she rises she lets her top open enough for Max to catch sight of the compact pistol holstered at her waist.
He pales alarming.
"Sit down Max." Alexis issues an order and manages to drag his attention back to her.
He complies no doubt still flustered by the sight of the weapon.
"Who is she?" Max stammers out.
Alexis fought the urge to smile at his lack of cool. Such a boy.
Alexis shakes her head in resignation at what she is going to say.
"My bodyguard of course." His eyes go wide at that. Probably regretting coming here. Alexis certainly hopes so.
"Jane, can you give us a moment please?" Her bodyguard is still just inside the dorm room close to the door. Jane nods towards the door to indicate she will be just outside, and seconds later the door closes and Alexis and Max are alone.
"Why do you need a bodyguard?"
Alexis gives Max the hard stare, and leaves that unanswered for the moment, despite the desire to tell him that Jane is there to deal with douche ex-boyfriends.
"Max." She's firm, controlled. The same tone she uses with her Dad when he's done something stupid but now with more Kate. She tries to find the tone of voice she had heard Kate and other officers use.
"You hurt me."
He nods. She can't tell if it is merely confirmation, acceptance or the beginnings of an apology. She continues when it becomes apparent there are no words from him in response.
"I know we hadn't talked too much about us, our relationship, much beyond dating and seeing each other regularly. I mistakenly believed we were exclusive, or at least on the physical front given there was sex involved. And I whilst it is partly my fault we didn't clear that up there was no misunderstanding on my side." Again no words and he still can't meet her eyes properly.
"I certainly didn't have sex with you lightly or casually and I am very disappointed in your actions.
"I was only away from college for a week. A WEEK Max! One fucking week. For a family emergency. You couldn't …."
She runs out of courage, and Max finally takes the opportunity.
"I'm sorry Alexis." He actually does appear sorry but what for? Hurting her. Missing out on sex? Being such a boy?
She keeps her face a stern mask and somehow he jumps straight to the end, missing out the messy middle of the conversation.
"Are you breaking up with me?"
Ah, now we're getting somewhere.
"I thought I made that clear on Saturday when you finally managed to confess during your brief appearance. But that was only after I had heard from others including the girl you had sex with last week."
She lets the impassive mask go and the anger flush her features.
"Do you know how mortifying that is? We had sex on Friday night! I don't trust you Max. I can't trust you now. You weren't honest with me. I have a lot going on in my life and I need people I can trust implicitly. You know without question. All I know now is that there a lot of questions and answers that don't do you any credit."
"Well apparently, I'm not the only one. I feel I don't know you properly either Alexis Rodgers."
Touché. Time to be totally honest.
"Yeah well about that. That's not my actually surname." Max looks at her uncomprehending.
"Castle, my name is Alexis Castle. I used Rodgers to enrol so I could try and avoid some of the issues that goes with having a famous parent."
Max has gone almost totally pale and she can detect a tremor in his body as makes the connection to the beautiful young woman in front of him and the headlines of recent weeks.
"Oh shit. You're dad's Richard Castle. Man, I knew your dad was in hospital but I never connected it. He got shot." Max looks surprised but perhaps he should be. He had only ever met Grams once and she had immediately been on first name terms and who had winked knowingly at her when Max wasn't looking. No mention of her dad.
"My Dad has kept me out of the press. But now that I'm an adult…I don't know what's going to happen."
Okay she wins. He's completely flat-footed.
"Look Alexis I'm really sorry. About everything. I saw on the news that your Dad is home. So that's good isn't it? And I am really sorry about the other girls." Girls! She thought it was just the one. Fucker!
"I want to believe you Max. But it's not enough. I need someone I can trust. Especially now. Someone who waits. My Dad's shown me that. It can be difficult, frustrating, really tough but I find you lack of patience and faith disturbing. So…." She doesn't finish.
She doesn't need to. He knows. His head sinks in resignation and he can't hold her eyes again for more than a moment. Then he looks up. Resolved. Accepting.
"I know. I'm going to go, but before I do can I just say that I found your partial Star Wars quote kinda hot."
Alexis shakes her head from side to side in part mock sadness but hints of a smile at his last boyish hurrah. The very things that attracted her to him. Echoes of her father but at the same time so clearly not. Another boyfriend that falls short.
"Goodbye Max."
"Bye Alexis. Maybe I'll see you around?"
She doesn't think so, at least not like Max implies so she doesn't respond as he opens the door and leaves.
Jane steps back into the room, head slightly askew in an unspoken question. Alexis doesn't answer that one, instead she has a question for her erstwhile bodyguard.
"So new found bestie, ready to go grab a drink and something to eat. While we're at it you can give me the low down on what the ground rules are."
Secure office, a Federal building, somewhere in Manhattan.
Sorenson and McCord were taking a much needed break from endless streams of figures contained in ledgers and statements. Coffee, or rather Earl Grey tea for McCord, and pastry crumbs sat neglected on the table.
Their notes were accumulating and lots of secondary evidence, a bit more than circumstantial but nothing conclusive yet. No smoking gun, lacking the definite presence of gunshot residue and spent shell-casings so to speak. Still the facts implicated a serving US Senator in campaign fund violations at the very least. Undeclared donations and given the offshore nature of some of the transactions, illegal ones as US law prevented campaign funding from non-US citizens or organisations.
Whoever had worked the figures had been an expert. But they had made one mistake. They had assumed that once deleted the bank records would be lost. They hadn't counted on the offsite backups. Multiple copies archived away. Somehow the data had been restored. Why data from 1998 to 2004 had suddenly been restored troubled both Sorenson and McCord but they didn't have an explanation.
But for the moment the mystery of the sudden restore of decades old financial information is with the technical investigation team back in DC. As well as ensuring that more than one copy of the tapes is taken into evidence.
Still the numbers – financial ones - don't add up. The sums of money flowing through the accounts don't even begin to match the public records for the campaign funds for one William H Bracken, then Assistant DA and bidding to become District Attorney back in 1998. There is far too much cash moving and a lot of it offshore. Banking regulation was much more lax then especially for those who had friends to manipulate the system.
Bracken had won after a number of highly respected opponents withdrew from the race, He stayed for five years making a name for himself with big (and successful) mob prosecutions. He resigned to campaign for the US Senate, and somehow Bracken had jumped ahead of the queue to become a candidate for the Senate election of 2004. A narrow win made him the junior Senator for the state of New York. Now in his second six-year term after a more comprehensive win in 2010, he remains the state's junior member but with powerful connections and reputation as a man not to be crossed.
Not that this phases McCord at all. She appears entirely dispassionate about the nature of their investigation. Will wants to ask lots of questions but over the last two days has learnt that he is best to wait for her, pushing only gets less not more information.
McCord has her jacket off, and Will Sorenson's top button is undone, the tie slightly is about as relaxed as they had been.
Pushing her tea cup away from her, McCord changes topics, and surprises him with his first name.
"Look Will, I know you're frustrated by lack of promotion opportunities in the FBI. It's even in your official record. So I'm going to lay our cards on the table.
"The AG office is looking to expand our group, specifically my team. What we are looking to do is add a couple more active field agents. We're general duties so the work changes a lot, but it is mainly political or national security. Very little straight or not so straight criminal stuff. That's still the Bureau's territory.
"The money is a bit better. Certainly more than a Special Agent in Charge makes and with greater responsibility and authority even as a team member. Sometimes you'll operate on your own, other times with one or more of us. Sometimes you'll take charge of other agencies but we mostly work alone.
"I won't sugar coat the downsides. Lots of travel, often short notice, politicians and diplomats, lots of compromise and sometimes things that won't sit well with you. Personal relationships strained, usually ruined to be honest.
"Finally there is burn out. Most of our agents last less than five years. At the end you get options including returning to your original service, or in some cases a desk job, usually in analysis or intentions for the odd one or two. Most retire or leave federal service at least.
"Professional ethics are paramount. No work relationships even outside of your team. No social media, no blogs. No life outside work really." McCord is blunt and to the point. Well Will couldn't say she sugar coated it. At all.
"So are you interested?"
"Why me?"
"You've shown a track record of putting the job first. Boston. Moving to Europe. Tying to advance and got good results. More recently you have worked some sensitive cases with tact and not a little fancy footwork. Finally you keep secrets. That's a big one. Too many people blab."
"Trying is right." Will can't help the bitter edge to his voice regarding his lack of promotion.
"I do understand. I've been there." He wonders about her past, and her path to here. How many years has she been in?
"We don't recruit often and it's by selection. We tap you on the shoulder, there is no job advert. Also not many repeat chances, usually a one-time deal."
Will is quiet, clearly thinking. Apparently McCord dislikes quiet introspection as she resumes.
"Like I said we've been looking to increase our numbers, mainly here in the East Coast and DC especially. We've been looking at suitable candidates but they are few and far between. Mainly federal agencies, but we've had a few cops on the radar too. One particular one here in New York. A homicide detective but she is in a high profile public relationship plus we don't' think she'd really fit the ethos we require to function effectively.
"Beckett. You were looking at Kate Beckett."
"Your former girlfriend? Yes we did."
"Why not?" He's no longer surprised by what they know but does wonder why McCord raised it.
"Her relationship with Richard Castle. Whilst he's not a major celebrity he gets his share of coverage, especially with his recent heroics. We need people who blend in and don't stand out. One looks alone she could have issues but her recent press conference was certainly confirmation that we can't use her no matter how good her skills are.
"Also remember the relationship rocker. We're not completely dispassionate. Our job would at the very least strain, if not ruin their relationship. The evidence is pretty categorical on that."
"Damn McCord you almost sound human."
She smiles somewhat wistfully at that. He didn't mean for it to anything other than light hearted. An apology forms on the edge of his lips but she shakes it off.
"Finally, there is a lot of grey in our jobs. Compromises, sometimes things less palatable and just occasionally a lot worse. It doesn't sit well even with those of us who have learnt to stomach it. Detective Beckett strikes me very much as justice-whatever-the-cost individual."
"Oh she is." He confirms. Too much probably Will thinks. But that's who she is, and God knows he could never change her. He suspects Castle might have done better but just how well is down to the woman herself.
"Oh and one final point. She's already - temporarily – badged as a federal agent for the DOJ."
"What?" McCord caught him with that one.
"Her boyfriend has managed to secure her a short term gig with an associated organisation that gets her federal credentials and a carry permit whilst she is on leave from the NYPD."
Will sits back suddenly pensive. There is clearly far more to Richard Castle than his jealousy tinged observations from years ago picked up. If he was honest, he knew that anyway. Kate had let him hang around all those years. She had told him things within months of meeting as he learned when they met up for the mob witness case, Things will had never really learnt from her, except by chance.
"She's working with Taylor Matthews isn't she?"
"Very astute Sorenson. But back to you."
McCord pauses and looks at him, wonders if Sorenson knew how obvious his refusal to mention Richard Castle was, but settles for shoulder shrugging to emphasise her question as she fixes her gaze on him.
Will looks back at her. Not backing down either. He finds he's surprising open to the idea and says so.
"Well to be honest it's a surprise more than anything. But I am interested. More than a little. Do I have until this gig is up to decide?"
"Maybe, but remember you don't know how long this gig is."
"You know what McCord I don't think you know either. This is far more complicated that first suspected and looks like being a major case."
McCord simply nods in acceptance of the agent's deductions and leans her head back towards the stacks of evidence. Time to go back to work. This is fun, this sort of detective work isn't common and she finds she misses it.
Richard Castle Website.
Rick's Ruminations - personal blog of Richard Edgar Castle
You've probably noticed I haven't posted much in here for a while. I've been pretty busy trying to enjoy the best that life can offer. Until the other week. Now I have slightly rocky road ahead before I can do that again. As ever I am humbled – okay just a bit – by the support of my readers and the public.
It is no secret that I have been shadowing and then consulting with the great homicide team at the NYPD's 12th Precinct. I am extremely fortunate to have worked with some of the city's finest officers. It truly has changed my life for the better. Despite my recent brush with death and injuries I hope to be able to return in some capacity, and continue to repay what I have been given the opportunity to participate in.
But if I don't I still count myself the winner – if there can be such a thing. 'Cause I got the girl!
(She may well kill me for that, or at least twist my all too convenient ears).
Kate Beckett is extraordinary. This was my first and abiding public description of her. I stand by that today. She has overcome terrible personal tragedy and brushes (too close) with death to serve her fellow New Yorkers with distinction and honour where others have fallen by the wayside.
I count myself the truly lucky one to have been her partner for more than four years, and now to be in the best sort of partnership with her. We have been dating for a little over six months. I fully intend for it to never end if it is in my power to do so.
Occasionally even great people make mistakes. Sometimes they pick themselves up and carry on, sometimes they don't. We're all human. What we owe them – and ourselves - is the opportunity to try again or support them if they don't. Cops make mistakes and regrettably sometimes it involves great tragedy and loss. Perhaps more than anyone else cops understand this and yet every day they turn up for duty and stand up to serve our city and us, it's citizens.
Kate Beckett has given me the opportunity to be much more than I was, than I ever hoped to be. Corny but true. I am a better man because of her.
Please do her the courtesy of being able to continue to do the same.
We have been given an opportunity to great together, and for that I am forever grateful.
I fully admit that I've lived much of my - allegedly - adult in the public domain. Often a bit too willingly. But in the last few years that has changed. For the better I hope, and I trust we have found the proper balance. But just at the moment the harsh spotlight has fallen upon me and especially those I love.
Somewhere along the way we all lost track of our responsibilities, duty even, to be fair to one another including ourselves. That includes the press.
We can all do better.
Rick.
Ps I should mention Detectives Esposito and Ryan – least they accuse me of equating them to chopped liver – again!
Author's Note
Thank you to those who take time to review. I appreciate every one.
Thank you in particular to my regular reviewers, your kind words and encouragement mean a lot.
Have passed another milestone here with 500 follows. I hope you are all enjoying the story.
