Mannequins and Marionettes: Chapter 18
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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 – 4:52 p.m., April 1, 2012, At the San Francisco Chinese Hospital in Chinatown
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It is a full room that greets a somewhat somber yet grateful Richard Castle, as he sits up straight in the bed. A good thing, too, as they create a warming and stark contrast to the sterile white room that he finds himself in.
He is surrounded by people. Some he knows. A few he doesn't. But he immediately recognizes the friends and family; family in the form of one Alexis Castle.
A few others are much like family to him. There is Mike Monroe, who he has known for years. Mike followed him from his loft building in New York City to the west coast to begin again as his security chief for his project out here.
And there is, of course, Kate Beckett.
Kate stands on his right side, holding his hand and smiling broadly as she watches the monitors go dark. They have disconnected the wires from the patient. There is no need for them anymore. He's getting out of there.
Alexis stands on his left side, and the redhead is every bit as exuberant at the pending discharge. Mike stands next to her, and Lindy Matthews next to him.
Standing next to Kate is Detective Jennifer Blackard, who arrived minutes after Sam Carlos. Carlos, stands back a bit toward the door as he watches the proceedings with a knowing and inquisitive stare, taking everything in. Junior Boy stands next to Carlos, at the door, wary of anyone who may wish to come into the room.
Dr. Teresa Argento stands at the foot of the bed, watching the disengagement of electronics on her celebrity patient. She turns behind her to offer a glance at Carlos, again wondering exactly why these people are so important to him.
"So . . . explain this to me one more time?" a somewhat hesitant Richard Castle asks as he glances around the room. His question is directed primarily at the hospital Chief of Staff, who awakened him roughly fifteen minutes ago, and immediately administered the antidote that Sam Carlos brought back. That's the good news. The bad news?
As expected, Richard Castle has no memory of anything that has transpired over the past twenty or so hours. His last memory is still walking out of the massage parlor/fortune telling house in Chinatown last night. His various collapses, awakenings and subsequent relapses? He has no memory of any of these.
Perhaps it is the writer in him, but he finds it highly disturbing that his mind has been affected. Heck, a broken leg, a bad back . . . hell, even getting shot is one thing. But as one who makes his living using his imagination – just the knowledge that his brain has been negatively impacted by some random drug that none of them can explain is more than mildly frightening to the once-and-always author.
"I know this is a lot to take in babe," Kate begins once again, grabbing his attention away from the doctor. He has already heard the summary version – the highly clinical take on what has been happening. He is hoping the woman he loves can translate this into something more . . . well, into English.
"You remember Mayor Clooney visiting us yesterday . . ."
"Yes, I remember. She came out to give us . . . yeah, I remember," he tells her, deciding he doesn't know how much detail to go into with this audience.
"You and I did some quick legwork and found out the last place that . . . a certain individual was seen was at a specific massage parlor down here in Chinatown," Kate continues, as she too now begins to parse her words.
"We went to the massage parlor . . . we found them not entirely helpful," he continues for her, his eyes gazing at nothing at all – it's like he is looking right through her as he attempts to piece together his last memories.
"We were standing outside the parlor after we left," Kate continues.
"The woman inside gave me a card . . . a chalice," he continues.
"Yes, babe," Kate replies. She waits.
And waits a few more seconds.
"That's all I've got," he finally tells the room.
"That's okay, babe," Kate tells him. Her heart is breaking for him as she sees the sadness and confusion painted across his face.
"And you're telling me that this card contained a drug that simulates death," he continues finally. "That this drug is in my system. That I have fallen dead already three or four times."
"Convincingly dead, Mr. Castle," Dr. Argento interrupts. "Enough to fool paramedics. Enough to declare you legally dead and placed in our morgue downstairs."
"Cool," the tall patient replies, getting a comically synchronized eye-roll from both of the women on either side of him who hold his hands.
"And I've been given an antidote," he asks. It isn't a statement. Just a reaffirmation.
"Yes," Kate answers.
"One that really doesn't work all that well," he continues, "since you say I will be susceptible to additional . . . what did you call them?"
"Relapses," Dr. Argento replies.
"Yeah, relapses," he frowns.
It's not that he isn't grateful. He is alive. But this isn't the best news one wakes up to. Not by a long shot.
"So, I will likely relapse again . . . if something scares me sufficiently," he continues, using his fingers on both hands to make quotation marks in the air. Both women beside find him removing his hands from theirs disturbing. Yeah, he's grateful. But he's angry, too. And him who can blame him.
"So, what exactly does sufficiently scared mean?" he asks the doctor. "I mean, that's kind of a vague term, don't you think? How am I supposed to drive around the city, work around my complex – hell, how am I supposed to even live in my own house. A sudden noise will startle me and I will fall over unconscious? You're kidding right? I couldn't even write something so . . . so harsh or draconian."
Back toward the door, unbeknownst to her, a frowning Sam Carlos beckons to Lindy Matthews.
"Miss Matthews," he whispers.
Lindy turns to see him wave her toward him with a single finger. She glances back toward the bed before moving toward Carlos.
Standing next to Carlos, she watches as he silently holds his hand out to Junior Boy. Without hesitation the large man reaches down to his ankles and pulls up his pants leg. He retrieves a small revolver from his ankle holster and hands it to his boss. Matthews takes this in, a small smile on her face as she locks eyes with Junior Boy, realizing that he had a weapon on him that he could have used against her. She nods her head, a sign of silent respect. He smiles in return as Sam Carlos hands the weapon to Lindy.
"Would you be so kind as to empty all of the bullets from this weapon, Miss Matthews?" Carlos asks.
She gives him a strange look, then takes the weapon and empties the chamber. Ensuring no bullets remain, she hands the weapon back to Carlos.
"Thank you," he remarks as he places the weapon behind him and walks toward the bed, now inserting himself into the conversation at a most appropriate time, indeed.
"We aren't sure what will trigger it, Mr. Castle," Dr. Argento answers. "Every human being is different. What scares one person may bring a smile to another. Like an audience in a horror movie, everyone reacts differently."
"That's not much help," Kate mutters under her breath.
"Indeed, it is not," Sam Carlos agrees, drawing the attention of the room toward him. "Let's see exactly what we are dealing with here, with Mr. Castle."
With that, the mobster moves his hand from behind his back toward his front right leg, where it is plainly visible to everyone in the room. He then raises the weapon and points it directly at Alexis Castle. Kate Beckett moves in flash. Friend or no, she will not let Carlos harm the young woman. Junior Boy is faster, however, as he moves quickly and yanks a now-screaming Kate Beckett out of the way.
Lindy Matthews immediately grabs Mike Monroe, who tries to step in front of a wide-eyed Alexis. The blonde suspects what Carlos is doing. She knows this has to look and feel authentic.
"I am sorry Miss Castle," Sam Carlos tells her. "I truly am." He clicks the trigger, with an empty chamber. Alexis immediately faints, as Lindy Matthews catches her as she goes to the ground. Simultaneously, Richard Castle screams.
"Nooooooooooo!"
A second later, the patient in question falls back from his sitting position, his eyes roll and then close. Once again, he is unconscious. Now, however, a pulse is easily found. They can see he is breathing. It's no longer simulated death. Just unconsciousness. Another improvement from Andrew Klein's team for the antidote to the relapses.
Junior Boy releases Kate Beckett, who now realizes what her friend was doing. Through it all, Detective Jennifer Blackard has remained motionless. Her eyes had followed Lindy Matthews as the woman walked toward Carlos standing near the door. She had watched as Junior Boy retrieved his weapon and handed it to the mobster, who, in turn, handed it to Matthews who emptied it. When Carlos walked toward the bed, she suspected what he might do. The only question in her mind was who would be the faux-victim.
He glances at her, and tosses the weapon toward the tall Filipino man, who catches it in mid-air.
"Well, at least now we know what he is facing, moving forward," a sad-faced Sam Carlos tells the room. His eyes darken as he begins walking toward the door. Immediately, Junior Boy falls into step behind his boss. Detective Blackard follows him but is rebuked at the door.
"No, Jennifer," Carlos tells her without glancing back. He has heard her footsteps. He knows she doesn't know what he is doing next, but she will try to stop him anyway.
Junior Boy turns to her, giving her a menacing stare. But the detective notices as the large man mouths the words 'I am sorry' to her as he closes the door.
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Sunday – 5:58 p.m., April 1, 2012, At one of Sam Carlos' residences at the old Presidio in San Francisco
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Sam Carlos stands outside the tall, two-story white complex that is surrounded by tall pine and eucalyptus trees, and a few cypress trees. The smell of nature assaults his nostrils. He smiles as he always does when home here. The U.S. Army started planting these trees in the area surrounding the old Army base back in 1880 and continued for the next fifty to sixty years, to give protection and a sense of peace to the area.
That sense of peace still lives today, as the sounds and smells of nature provide a distinct contrast to the life Sam Carlos lives. Eyes closed, he inhales the beauty and serenity for a few more seconds before opening eyes that are now harsh and determined. The moment is over.
Willie Crockett has been with his boss long enough to know instinctively when the switch has been flipped.
Like now.
"Ready, boss?" Crockett asks the man standing next to him.
"I was ready an hour ago, my friend," Carlos replies darkly as he begins walking toward the front door. The phone ringing in his inside jacket pocket stops him roughly ten feet from his front door. Crockett stops with him, glancing around the area.
"Hello Jennifer," Carlos answers, having seen her caller-ID.
"Sam," she begins, "I have Kate here with me on speaker phone. Richard Castle is awake again. He is fine, Sam."
She is pleading with him. She knows him. She doesn't know who is about to feel the wrath of his anger, but she is going to do whatever she can to stop this.
"Mr. Castle is anything but fine," Carlos counters, his eyes still steely with determination.
"But he is, Sam," Kate interjects. "He woke up maybe fifteen minutes after you left, and he is –"
"What does he remember, Kate?" Sam asks, taking a huge breath and exhaling.
"Well . . . you know he doesn't remember anything except for –"
"Then as I said, he is far from fine," Carlos repeats. "And while I can appreciate what I suspect you both are trying to do, I must tell you that there are consequences to our actions. That is something that someone is about to learn."
"Sam, please," Jennifer pleads. "It doesn't always have to be this way. Hell, Sam, think about what we uncovered out at Angel Island a couple of months ago. We solved that, we freed those women, and no one else was hurt."
"That's where you are wrong, Jennifer," Carlos replies, and Willie Crockett chuckles as he stands next to him.
"Jimmy Blankenship went for a swim in the bay for his transgressions against those women," Carlos tells them. Both women gasp at the other end of the phone conversation, as Sam Carlos once again reveals exactly who – and what – he is. That he would admit such a thing to a police officer does not escape either women.
"His wife – truly a bitch of the earth, if I may say so myself – became one of the very rare exceptions I make to my no-orphan rule. Their daughter is living safely with Blankenship's sister, with more than enough money to set her up for the rest of her life."
"Sam," Kate manages to say, tears in her eyes.
"Such behavior against humanity cannot go unpunished, my friends," he interrupts. There are lions in this world who feed on people like you. People like Mr. Castle. They do not feed on me."
He spits the final words out with a venom that surprises both women.
"Goodbye, my friends," he tells them as he disconnects the call. He pauses for a few seconds, turning back to take in the beauty of the trees that surround his home.
"Still ready, boss?" Crockett asks. He is wondering where his boss' head is. He need not worry.
"Even more so, my friend," Carlos replies, as he immediately walks to the door, opens it and walks into his home. He continues on toward the back staircase and proceeds downstairs to the basement area. It is a single large room he has remodeled for clandestine gatherings such as this.
Greeting him in the middle of the room are two couples, who sit in a single row of chairs. The four are not tied up, nor are they gagged. There is no need for such restraints. Not here.
Behind them stands Junior Boy and a crew of four equally frightening men. No guns are present. Again, none are needed. Each of these powerful men are more than enough.
Andrew Klein and his wife, Cassandra sit in the two left-most chairs facing the door. In the two adjoining chairs to the right sit Councilman Barry Adams and his wife, Susan. All four have a look of profound fear in their eyes, and rightly so. Sam Carlos has pulled the foursome together for this conversation near the tall, towering red bridge.
Putting his hands in his pockets, he approaches the foursome until he is standing some three to four feet in front of them.
"Let me begin by saying – Andrew, Cassandra – that I hold no ill will toward either of you," Carlos begins, looking directly at the Silicon executive and his wife.
"Your ledger is clean with me. However, I do believe that a proper example is in order. That is why the two of you are here."
Carlos turns his head slightly to address the second couple.
"Mr. Councilman," he begins, "You and your wife, however, have a very different ledger with me. One that demands discussion."
"Mr. Carlos –"
"Shut up, Mr. Adams!" Carlos says, quietly but fiercely, leaving no debate. "If and when there is a time for you to speak, I will let you know. And if or when that time comes, I suggest you choose your words wisely."
Carlos moves toward the wall and grabs a small chair that sits there. He drags the chair in front of the foursome and sits. His earlier greeting notwithstanding, Andrew Klein cannot help but think that they are in a courtroom, and Sam Carlos is the judge and jury.
"Barry – may I call you Barry?" Carlos continues, not waiting for an answer. "Barry, your sins against this city are most egregious. And Barry – coming from me – that is a most serious accusation. Yet, those sins against our beautiful city were not personal against me. They were not personal to me. However, your actions with Mr. Castle crossed a line – a very personal line with me."
With these words, tears begin to fall down the cheeks of Susan Adams. She is no dummy. She knows of Sam Carlos. Sure, this is her first meeting with the man, but his reputation precedes him. And that reputation is harsh toward those who have personally affronted the man.
"Let me tell you a story, Barry, Susan," Carlos continues. "Forty-nine women were held against their own will, sexually assaulted for your pleasures and your pocket-book. Forty-nine women."
Carlos pauses, staring intently at Susan Adams. Realizing by her reaction that she was – in fact – aware of this fact makes his mind up for him. It is the final domino that he hesitated to knock over. Her reaction eliminates that final fence.
"A man named Benny – I see you know of this man," Carlos smiles. It is a frightening and sinister smile. Behind him, Willie Crockett smiles as well. The smell of urine begins to rise in the small, enclosed room as Crockett begins to walk past Carlos around the foursome until he is standing right behind Councilman Adams.
"Benny is a guest of mine – in a prison south of the border," he continues, glancing at his watch, "for about the next . . . oh, I would say ten months or so. He is being sexually assaulted, every day, multiple times a day, as those forty-nine women were sexually assaulted. He is being violated in the most brutal of manners, as befitting his crime."
At this, Councilman Barry Adams chokes as he attempts to swallow the bile that is rushing upwards.
"Your sins against forty-nine women place you in a category even I shudder to discuss," Carlos tells the councilman. Carlos looks up toward Willie Crocket, who suddenly plunges a syringe into the shoulder of the man. Susan Adams screams.
Andrew Klein looks away, knowing what has just transpired. His actions catch the attention of Carlos.
"Andrew, if you do not turn your head back this way, and witness the consequences for these actions, you will join them."
His threat has the desired effect. Against their better instincts, the Klein couple lock eyes with the couple beside them, as Carlos continues to address the Silicon Valley CEO.
"Andrew, you know the drug that has just been injected into the councilman here," Carlos continues. "It should take effect in what . . . another ten minutes or so?"
"Fifteen," Klein whispers.
"Right, right, another fifteen minutes," Carlos agrees as he stands up. "I shall return in twelve minutes then."
With that, the San Francisco mobster walks out of the room and back up the stairs to the main floor of his home. He heads to the bar area just off the kitchen, where he grabs a bottle of Ron Zacapa XO rum. He opens the ice bucket that sits there and grabs three cubes of ice and drops them into a small glass. He pours roughly two ounces of the liquid into the glass.
He walks toward the large bay window that looks out on the expansive property and sits in the large sofa there. He sips the cool drink, silent in his thoughts for nine or ten minutes, before heading back down the stairs.
When he returns, the two couples are now standing, as having been directed by Willie Crockett once he heard Sam Carlos coming down the stairs. Once again, Andrew Klein cannot help but consider this a courtroom. One where judgement is about to be announced.
"Most of the kinks in Andrew's drug and it's antidote have been worked out, Barry," Carlos begins, glancing at his watch. He knows he has two minutes – three tops left before the Councilman drops unconscious.
Turning to Barry Adams, he continues.
"Notice, Mr. Councilman, that I said most of the kinks – not all. There is one left. The antidote – and the initial drug – do not work quite the way we would like."
He turns his attention back to Andrew Klein, momentarily.
"I do not hold this against you, Andrew," he tells the Silicon Valley executive. "How were you to know who you were dealing with in Barry here?"
He turns back to the councilman and his wife.
"The relapses are no longer triggered by memories. Now they seem to be triggered by sudden and startling events – something that truly frightens a person. Fortunately, this period of unconsciousness will last only fifteen or so minutes during relapses. But the initial submission to the drug will last . . . how long now Andrew?"
"Roughly two hours," Klein replies, the perspiration on his forehead now shimmering in the light of the room.
"Yes, two hours, thank you, Andrew," Carlos repeats. "I thank you for that, Andrew. However, the memory lapses could not be fixed. And these relapses will occur again. For Richard Castle. For my friend. Supposedly any time a startling or frightening even occurs. Let's test this theory, shall we?"
With that, Sam Carlos holds out his hand. Willie Crockett places a large handgun into Sam's hand. Sam Carlos smiles at Barry Adams as he points the weapon at Susan Adams' head and fires. The councilman's wife topples over dead, a large hole in the front of her head and the back of her head where the bullet has entered and exited.
Councilman Barry Adams screams, and suddenly his eyes glaze as he clutches his chest. He falls over, seemingly dead.
"Excellent," Carlos tells a stunned and flustered Andrew Klein. "Most impressive. It works as advertised. I commend you, Andrew."
Next to the CEO, Cassandra Klein is throwing up in her hands, stifling a sob as tears stream down her face. Andrew is holding on to the arms of the chair, trembling.
"I trust this is a sufficient reminder of who I am, Mr. and Mrs. Klein?" Carlos remarks. "You may go now. Sammy over there will take you home. And it is a long drive from here back to the valley. I would appreciate it if you were generous with your tip to him."
Carlos then turns to two other men in the room. "Get rid of her."
The men move quickly, picking up the dead woman and carrying her out the back door which leads into the garage area.
He turns to Willie Crockett.
"Let's go," he tells Crockett. The men walk upstairs, back to Sam Carlos' bar area where the mobster pours two drinks, one for Crockett and himself. Handing a glass to Crockett, he moves to sit back on the sofa once again. Crockett walks to the large bay window, staring outside at the massive forest of trees. He takes a sip of the drink and walks to the sofa, and sits next to his boss.
"What will happen to the councilman?" Crockett asks. He stares straight ahead at the view out the window.
"He will wake up in two hours," Carlos tells him, matter-of-factly. He, too, continues starting out the large window.
"Have the twins come here to pick him up," he tells Crockett. "They will take him to his loft down on Embarcadero. Place him in his bed. When he awakens, he won't remember anything that has happened in the last five minutes."
"How so?" Crockett asks, confused. "He should remember everything that happened up to his wife being shot."
"A little concoction I added to the cocktail we gave him," Carlos replies. "Short-term memory loss."
"So . . . he . . . he won't remember you shooting his wife," Crockett muses aloud, glancing at his boss.
"No," Carlos replies.
"He won't ever know what happened to her," Crockett adds, still staring at Carlos.
"No," Carlos replies again, his gaze still on the view out of his window.
"He will spend the rest of his life thinking she simply left him," Crockett adds, now joining Carlos in the view outside.
"Yes," Carlos replies.
"Dark. Even for you, boss," Crockett chuckles.
"Fitting," Carlos tells him. "I have use for him. He will know that I have done something to him. That will be the extent of his memories. He will fear me. As he should."
Carlos takes a long sip of his favorite rum before continuing.
"As for his wife? She is a woman. A woman who willingly condemned forty-nine other women – daughters – to a horrific fate. A bullet was merciful compared to what I could have done."
"True," Crockett agrees, nodding his head. "I'm surprised though, boss, if you don't mind me saying."
"Surprised by what, my friend?" Carlos asks, now looking at the man next to him.
"Your reaction to all of this," Crockett explains. "You did all of this for Mr. Castle. You barely know the man."
"True, Willie," Carlos agrees. "Present company aside, I don't have many friends. By choice I admit. But Mr. Castle is one of them."
"So quickly?" Crockett asks. He does so without hesitation. He has earned that right with Sam Carlos.
"He is important to Katie, so he became important to me. But he barely knew me, Willie," Carlos explains, his gaze returning to the trees outside. "He barely knew me, yet he invited me into his home. Knowing what I am. He is a man of honor. We don't know too many of those, do we, my friend?"
"No, we don't," Crockett agrees, shaking his head. "No, we don't."
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A/N: All that is left is the Epilogue to set up the next story. This one took a while. Thank you for persevering with me.