Mannequins and Marionettes: Chapter 16
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DISCLAIMER: Most of these characters are not mine at all, but they are memorable. Thank you, Mr. Marlowe. The others? Yeah, they're mine
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Sunday – 2:15 p.m., April 1, 2012, back at the San Francisco Chinese Hospital in Chinatown
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"There," Dr. Teresa Argento comments, pointing at the figure on the monitor moving down the hallway toward Richard Castle's room . . . in plain eyesight of everyone on the floor
The Chief of Staff sits with Kate Beckett in an administrative office on the first floor at street level, a series of monitors surrounding them. The technician pauses the video so the women can get a good look at the figure on the screen.
"Do you recognize him?" the technician asks Dr. Argento.
"No, I do not," she replies. "Nor do I think anyone in this facility would recognize him," she continues. "And I seriously doubt that – in real life – our perpetrator looks anything like he appears here. The glasses and long hair are a nice touch."
"Notice how he seems to know exactly where the cameras are," the technician adds. "Can't get a real clean look at him."
"Indeed," Argento agrees, with a smile of admiration. "Please continue."
Nodding his head, the technician allows the video feed to continue. They watch the technician pushing a portable X-Ray cart down the hall. He walks past Richard Castle's room to the patient room two doors past Castle's. He grabs the laminated key card from around his neck and smoothly scans the key, gaining access to the room. He doesn't bother looking around to see if anyone notices.
"Smooth," the technician mutters under his breath.
"No," Dr. Argento corrects him. "Ninja."
"What?" Kate Beckett asks, astonished. "Okay, this is just getting too weird, even for me, and I promise you that's saying something. Ninja? As in real-life ninja?"
"Yes, Miss Beckett," the doctor smiles. The ex-detective's reaction is a common one for those witnessing a ninja for the first time.
"That is . . . how do you know that . . . this is not what I expected," Kate remarks, staring at the figure on the screen. "A simple hospital technician in scrubs, pushing an X-Ray cart is supposed to be a fearsome ninja?"
"Appearances can be deceiving, Miss Beckett," Argento tells her. "And in the case of the ninja, that is precisely how it is supposed to be. You aren't supposed to recognize them. That defeats the entire purpose."
"I'm not sure I understand," Kate tells her. She pulls her eyes away from the screen to address the doctor directly.
"American misconceptions of the ninja are steeped in Hollywood as opposed to history," Argento tells her with a smile.
"The ninja ways are more about espionage – spy and sleuth stuff – than the invisible kickass warrior," Argento begins. She pauses to take a sip of coffee from her styrofoam cup. She frowns at the now-room temperature liquid in her mouth. Swallowing quickly, she continues.
"Invisibility was – and still is – a key element of their way. But not in the way your books and movies portray. It is less about disappearing in smoke bombs and actually disappearing in plain view. In the old days, these people were just as likely to be a farmer or a village butcher than a soldier. But they were all trained in the 'way'," she continues, making air quotes around the word.
"Normal people taught to blend in. Taught to be able to infiltrate an enemy, whether it is a fortified castle or – in this case – a modern hospital facility. Get in, do what you came to do, get out. Yes, they are formidable fighters. But if they are successful, normally fighting is not necessary or desired. The goal is to go about their role silently, without detection. If they are successful, they could be standing right next to you, talking to you for a few minutes, running tasks for you. Hiding in plain sight."
"So, they are more likely to appear as a doctor or a nurse or an orderly," Kate remarks, now warming to the idea.
"Or in this case, a technician," Argento comments, as she fast forwards the surveillance feed, noting the minutes going by.
"Notice that he has not come out of the patient room," Argento tells her. "It's been a good ten minutes now. By now he has likely been in and out of Mr. Castle's room."
"How?" Kate asks.
"Window," the technician muses aloud.
"Exactly," Dr. Argento agrees. "He – or she – went out the window in the patient room he – or she – entered and scaled along the wall back to Mr. Castle's room."
"That would explain why we have seen no one enter Rick's room," Kate muses aloud, still trying to wrap her head around real-life modern ninja – and not the pseudo ninja that she and Richard Castle once interacted with back in New York.
"Not in Kansas anymore," she half mutters to herself.
"What's that?" the Chief of Staff asks.
"Nothing," Kate tells her. "Just an observation of my life," she half chuckles. "By the way, you seem to know an awful lot about the topic of ninjas for a woman of medicine," Kate offers, giving the doctor a sideways glance.
"Our . . . mutual friend who sent protection for Mr. Castle upstairs . . . has somewhat of a cadre of those who are trained in the way of Shinobi," Dr. Argento replies calmly. "Obviously, however, not everyone in this city who is trained in this way is under our mutual friend's wings. Evidently whoever is after Mr. Castle has his own connections as well."
The thought of an invisible enemy who strikes from afar, through Chinese massage parlors or stealth ninja is too much for Kate.
"We don't have time for this," she angrily retorts, retrieving her cell phone and punching in the number. She gets two rings as she stands and walks out of the administrative room, leaving a stunned Dr. Argento and a questioning technician.
Closing the door behind her, she hears his voice answer.
"Katie," Sam Carlos greets her. "I understand Mr. Castle is now safely sedated again. I trust all is well there."
"No, all is not well, Sam," she whispers into the phone, now more careful than ever before of eyes and ears that may be tuned in, given what she has just learned. A short woman in scrubs passes by, nodding and smiling at the ex-detective. Kate simply stares down the passerby until they awkwardly break contact.
"I just sat down to watch video surveillance recordings with your friend, Dr. Argento," Kate continues. "She is telling me tales of ninja and secret espionage sleuths who come and go as they please. Seems like we saw one – who is responsible for what happened to Rick earlier this morning."
"Do tell," Sam remarks, his face pensive at the other end. He is just wrapping up a plate of pancakes with peach toppings. He dabs his mouth gently with the napkin, and glances at his watch. He then flags down the waitress as he continues.
"The world is very different out here than you imagine, Kate," he tells her.
"As you say, do tell," she agrees, her voice still low. "Sam, if this is what we are up against . . . if this is what I am up against, I need to know who I am dealing with. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the frightening security giant you sent, but I am no helpless waif either. You know this! Now spill it, Sam! Who hired this ninja whatever? Who am I dealing with?"
The three or four seconds of silence from the other end are long and maddening, and a frustrated Kate Beckett is about to hang the call up when Sam finally answers.
"His name is Barry Adams," he tells her. "He is a city councilman with aspirations for the halls of the United States Congress. And it appears that he has a serious hard-on for your boyfriend. The question is why."
Kate scratches the back of her neck subconsciously, chilled from the tingle that has just run from her neck, down her spine. Another coast on the other side of the country, and another politician to deal with. Her mind returns to a phone call from Richard Castle's supposed father on Christmas Eve. A call that explained who was behind her mother's murder and the nefarious consequences thereafter. Another politician. A U.S. Senator.
"Katie, are you all right?" Carlos asks her after noticing his friend has not responded.
"Yeah Sam," she sadly replies. "Just realizing that sometimes the universe is more persistent than I prefer."
"You will have to explain that someday," he tells her, understanding that there is a story behind her musings.
"I will, I promise," she agrees. "But for now, just tell me – you are certain it is this man Adams?"
"Quite certain, my friend," he confirms.
"Then I need to pay him a visit," Kate decides out loud.
"Not necessary," Carlos tells her, glancing at his watch again. "It is now 2:28. If Willie has done as I asked, and I have no reason to doubt that he has, Mr. Adams should be in my possession very soon."
"What does that mean?" Kate asks, the hairs on her neck now no longer tingling but at full attention.
"It means that you don't need to worry about him right now, Kate," he replies. "Your focus has not changed. We do not know how many people have been dispatched to deal with Mr. Castle. I know you have your own security coming. I have sent Junior Boy to watch over Mr. Castle until your team arrives.'
"Junior Boy?" Kate laughs out loud. "That behemoth of a man upstairs is named 'Junior Boy'?"
The San Francisco mobster laughs out loud with her, sharing a moment of respite that he knows she desperately needs right now. Truth be told, he could use a little down time himself. He makes a mental note to do exactly that when all of this is over and done with.
"Don't let the name fool you," he warns. "He is – without a doubt – the scariest man I have ever met on this planet."
"That is saying a lot, coming from you," Kate remarks.
"I'm just saying, do not underestimate his prowess and the easy smile he will give you," Carlos continues. "I have seen him do things to a human being, to the human body, with a smile on his face that sometimes concerns even me. He seems to . . . enjoy it."
"Then I best get back upstairs," she tells him. "He is alone in the room with Rick. If Lindy gets there and gets the wrong impression . . . well, I shudder to think of those two going at it in an enclosed room with Rick lying there helpless and sedated."
"Lindy – the Matthews woman?" Carlos asks, the concern now in his voice as well.
"That would be her," Kate confirms.
"Then yes, I would ask that you get back up there, post haste," he requests. "Trust me when I say I have things under control from this end. Mr. Adams will soon be off the board, and I am hopeful that I am minutes away from getting my hands on an acceptable antidote."
Kate is concerned – no – she is downright frightened by what the term 'off the board' means coming from Sam Carlos, but his final words about an antidote take priority.
"I will call you later," she promises as she hangs up. She turns to go back into the room with Dr. Argento when the Chief of Staff comes opens the door, running out – her eyes wide.
"Doctor?" Kate asks?
"With me," Dr. Argento tells her. "I just got a call from upstairs. There is trouble in Mr. Castle's room!"
"Too late," Kate thinks to herself as she dashes toward the elevator, and at the last second, veers off to the left and runs down another twenty feet to the stairwell. In seconds she is running up the stairs, taking two stairs at a time, toward Castle's floor, praying out loud.
"Please God," she whispers as she runs. "Please!"
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Sunday – Roughly five minutes ago at 2:28 p.m., April 1, 2012, at the Embarcadero Lofts in San Francisco
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The short pizza delivery man stands outside the door on the upper floor loft, tapping his foot, waiting for the door to open. There is a red box bag in his hands, and the smell of hot cheese and pepperoni pizza from inside the container is tickling his nose.
The door opens after another few seconds.
"Golden Boy Pizza Delivery," the man smiles.
"We didn't order any pizza," Councilman Barry Adams remarks, turning to his wife. "Did you?"
"No, I didn't," Susan replies, glancing around her husband at the delivery man. Her eyes grow big. It is all the councilman needs to see. Too late, he turns back to the door, attempting to close it, but the delivery man's foot is already in the doorway, blocking its closure.
"No, you didn't," the man smoothly replies as he slowly pulls a long handgun with a silencer from the red bag containing the pizza.
"However, Mr. Sam Carlos has asked to have a word with you."
In front of the building of lofts, a white pizza delivery van with the Golden Boy Pizza logo splattered across the sides, Willie Crockett sits waiting for Milo to bring the political couple down. He glances at his watch, knowing that their prey should be coming out the doors shortly. He begins whistling an old Scorpions tune as he waits, the smile on his face growing.
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Sunday – About the same time, 2:28 p.m., April 1, 2012, back at the San Francisco Chinese Hospital in Chinatown
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Junior Boy gets up out of the chair, standing to stretch his legs. These small, diminutive chairs were definitely not meant for man his size. He exhales as he breathes out, stretching his arms above his head, and then folding them around his chest to expand his back. He stands over Richard Castle now, his hands on the railing of the bed, watching the man sleep.
"You must be very important to Sam, Mr. Castle," he speaks softly.
"And he is even more important to me," comes the reply from the doorway.
"Damn, she is good," Junior Boy thinks to himself. "I didn't even hear her come in."
Lindy Matthews is dressed in loose fitting black leggings and a gray pullover sweater that hugs and accentuates the natural curves of her chest. Her blonde hair flows gently down, perhaps an inch below her shoulders. But it is her eyes that grab Junior Boy.
Not quite blue, almost hazel . . . but piercing. Almost translucent, he thinks. She is one of the most beautiful women he has ever seen. And her eyes tell him she also likely the most dangerous he has even seen as well.
She moves quickly toward him, as he realizes how his hulking form, standing over Richard Castles' bed had to appear to the woman.
"Now hold on a second," he tells her as he turns to face her, but it is too late. Faster than he can believe, she is airborne. And by airborne, he realizes that she is easily four feet off the ground, crouched in the air like something from a comic book. Only this is real.
No stranger to physical violence, he easily parries her initial kick toward the head before he realizes that his head was – in fact – not her target. She easily cartwheels in the air toward his left – her right – before swinging her left leg violently in a roundhouse toward his midsection. She catches him on his right side in the ribs, knocking him five feet toward the right. Fortunately, the IV stand has been moved to the left of Richard Castle's bed, and is – for now – away from the festivities.
Junior Boy rolls with the roundhouse kick, tumbling once and is on his feet immediately at the window, with a pair of nunchucks now in his hand, whirling quickly in circles in front of him.
Lindy has landed right at Richard Castle's bed. She uses the brief seconds to glance at Richard Castle, to make sure that he is all right. She then turns her attention toward the window.
"You just made a big mistake," Junior Boy tells her, a smile growing on his face.
"I've made worse," she tells him. She doesn't smile. She is all business at this point, and her priority is protect the man in the bed next to her.
His attack is quick, she will give him that. And violent. She ducks the first of the nunchuck swings toward her head, immediately recognizing that her head is not his intended target. Quickly, she is airborne again to avoid the sweeping kick he has just offered.
She lands, smiling now in return.
"You're good," he admits, admiringly.
"As are you," she smiles. "A shame."
"Indeed," he agrees, and lunges toward a chair, swinging it towards her in one fluid motion. She easily avoids the chair, knowing instinctively again that this is just a distraction from his real intention. The chair crashes against the door that she left slightly ajar. That will draw attention. It will bring the hospital staff on the floor to this room.
It will bring innocent bystanders. She knows she has to finish this quickly.
The two combatants circle each other warily for a few seconds. Each realizes they are dealing with a professional. Each realizes that they are not dealing with a fighter. They are dealing with a killer. There is a world of difference between the two.
They continue to circle one another. Their size difference may be striking to the novice, but both realize it is inconsequential in these next few moments. Junior Boy is now at the door, while Lindy is closer to the bed.
The door opens, and the tall blonde orderly screams in surprise at the sight in front of him. He stands frozen in the doorway for a second too long.
"Not now," Junior Boy tells him, giving him a lightning quick fist to the head without looking at the man. His eyes never leave Lindy Matthews. She is the danger. Not some orderly in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The orderly drops unconscious on the spot.
"We need help here!" another orderly outside the door yells. This one is smarter and is staying clear of the doorway and whatever is going on inside Richard Castle's room.
Inside the room, the two combatants have circled closer – each now realizing that the other is very comfortable in close quarters combat.
Junior Boy moves first. It is a quick jab that catches Matthews off guard, as she is expecting another distracting first strike.
"Won't make that mistake again," she thinks to herself, as she rolls with the jab, but still absorbs a good deal of contact to her cheek. She answers with a jab of her own. It comes faster than Junior Boy expects, as she returns the favor.
Except her jab is not one. But two. Now a third. Each one connecting. In less than two minutes this woman has hit him more than he gets touched in a dozen fights. He smile widens as his eyes narrow.
He feints a kick and is upon her instantly, wrapping her in his mammoth hands. She doesn't panic. She head butts him in the face once. Twice. Unfortunately, his move to wrap her up has missed her arms. With free hands, she jabs her fingers upward under his arm pits. Immediately he drops her as his arms fall useless to his side. Still standing, but now completely helpless, his smile leaves, knowing what she has done. He watches as she pulls her arm back, her fingers curled as she eyes his now-unguarded neck.
Fortunately for Junior Boy, two things happen before Lindy can finish things. First, Kate Beckett bursts into the door, her hand weapon drawn and pointed at the couple.
"Lindy! Junior Boy! Stop!" she screams at both, instinctively realizing that a fatal blow is seconds away.
The second fortunate occurrence for the large Filipino man is that Kate recognizes right away who has the upper hand. She rushes to move toward Junior Boy first, placing herself in a protective stance between he and Lindy Matthews.
"Lindy, he is with me," Kate tells her loudly. "He was sent by a friend to watch over Rick until you got here."
The transformation in Matthew is instantaneous. She is upon Kate before the ex-detective even realizes what is happening, which scares Kate all the more. Matthews pushes Kate aside like a rag doll and immediately places her hands underneath Junior Boy's arms again, this time quickly jabbing at pressure points once again.
"Arrrgh!" the large man moans for a second as feeling – and pain return to his arms. He falls to his knees in front of Matthews, who drops to her knees with him.
"Breathe," she tells him. "The pain will be gone in another second or two."
He takes a couple of deep breaths, then smiles as the pain begins to subside. He gazes at the woman kneeling in front of him, recognition in his eyes for what she has just done.
"Thanks," he mutters, realizing his life has just been spared.
"I'm sorry," she tells him, then quickly stands to face Kate.
"Well, that was fun," she smiles as she reaches down to pull Kate back to her feet. "I guess I misunderstood the situation when I entered the room," she continues, good-naturedly.
"You think?" the man on the floor tells her with a roll of the eyes, as he slowly pulls himself back to a standing position.
"Easy big fella," Lindy tells him. "Move too fast and you're going to pass out, I promise you."
Kate, now on her feet, quickly walks over to the bed where a sedated Richard Castle continues to sleep. She breathes a sigh of relief as she gazes at the monitors and his breathing chest – realizing that he is safe and sound. She turns her attention back to Lindy Matthews and Junior Boy.
"Fortune tellers, death-simulating drugs, ninjas and now this. I need a vacation," she smiles at the duo, then collapses in the chair next to the IV stand.