It's been a long damn day. Castle is used to sleep being in short supply. That's not the burden. It's the pretending. He's so damn tired of pretending: I'm snooping but pretending to be clueless. This is Beckett's case yet I've commandeered it for my own purposes. Everything is fine. Act like good dad. All the while his brain is swirling with words and images and his body is tired and rebellious. He's in love with Kate but he can't show it. The lack of food and constant glares from Captain Gates are also grating on him. Everything makes him on edge yet he pretends nothing is amiss.
The 12th precinct is running like it's 12 noon instead of midnight. The arrests may be over but the collection and processing of evidence is in high gear. The profile was correct that Jason Marks wanted to make amends so he's singing like a bird. Gates has trusted uniforms guarding him so nothing 'accidentally' happens to him. All interrogation rooms and holding cells in every surrounding precinct are being utilized to keep suspects from talking to one another. The chaos is wearing on everyone.
If he were a screen writer instead of a novelist he would outline this as the second act. Part three will be the courtroom drama. Part one was uncovering information. Part two is getting it into the hands of the good guys. It was easy enough to manufacture reasons for cops to talk to people. This is the hard part, delivering the goods, the tangible evidence that proves the corruption. The obvious results of drugs and cash profits are easy enough to find. It's much harder to deliver bookkeeping records not on a computer, passports in a second safe, and a tiny USB storage device hidden somewhere in the Senator's desk at his home.
Beckett is standing next to Castle crowding into him as he studies the evidence log of what's being collected from Bracken's house. He wishes Kate would sit in her desk chair. He mummers, "It's been long day. You need to get off your feet."
Her tone is hard, "Don't try to coddle me. Not here."
He shifts away from her but she follows. Damn. He needs to send another message to someone on scene to guide them to a hiding spot but he's worried the detective is going to inadvertently see something she shouldn't. He tries to tease, "Just because we're partners we don't have to be joined at the hip.
"I have to keep you on a short leash or Gates will have a meltdown."
"What if I have to go to the little boy's room? Are you following me in there too?" He could resort to texting from a bathroom stall.
"Ryan was grumbling about the crowd in there and threatened to use the ladies room. Just settle down Castle and let everyone do their jobs."
"Go do yours! Stop hovering on the sidelines and make sure nothing is getting overlooked!" He's pushing her away again.
"Don't you dare try to tell me what my job is!"
"Just like old times - we're back in the precinct and I've pissed you off." Their exchange is louder than intended and the emotions more raw.
"Both of you are pissing me off! This is why personal relationships are not allowed according to NYPD regulations." Gates has appeared and is wiggling a finger at the two adults like they're naughty children. And now that the dam has opened, she's not holding the flood back, "Ever since I assumed command of the 12th precinct it's been Beckett this and Castle that. This desk is like a shrine to some deity and I hear the quiet reverence about Beckett's shooting, Beckett's closure rate, Beckett's mother's case, ad nauseam."
"That's enough!" Castle all but growls at the woman daring her to say another word again Beckett.
Gates isn't backing down. "Like you are any better with your cult following: Castle's coffee machine, Castle's wild case theories, Castle's knowledge, Castle's amazing contacts... And you aren't shy about using those contracts to manipulate others to your own advantage. You used the mayor to follow around a pretty detective. Used the police commissioner to sanction a task force to solve her mother's case. The work gets dumped on everyone else and you sit back scooping up the results to use as thinly veiled plot points for your next work of pulp fiction." She points to the latest manuscript he has a white knuckle grip on.
Now Beckett's fury is aimed at the captain, "You have no idea of his work and effort that has gone into this moment and you pay him back with insults? You were given a trusted spot during the arrest planning which is going to bring you lots of reflected glory that you didn't earn and you dare to complain?"
The captain is in Beckett's face, "My complaint is that this behavior is a pattern. I was never accorded the courtesy of asking me to join the task force. I was excluded from everything important despite my precinct essentially being ground zero. Then I am assigned a role that dumped a huge amount of chaos into my command including being one of the last to know I had dirty cops working here."
Beckett is confounded into silence. She's the one who wanted Gates and her IA background kept as far away as possible from the case because of Montgomery's hidden involvement. Her decision has substantially damaged relations with her future boss.
Castle uses the pause to jump back in. "I could have made you look really bad with the commissioner and told him just how fast you kicked me out of the precinct but didn't. You repay that loyalty by lambasting my partner and me because you're pouting about the workload? At not knowing sensitive information sooner? Can your ambition be any plainer?"
Her indignation is on full display. "Are you sure it's not about Beckett's naked ambition? Naked Heat is a great way to make her the secret darling of all those men sitting in executive offices at One Police Plaza. You have undermined the credibility every woman in law enforcement. You might as well have made Beckett a pin-up girl on a calendar!"
"Not another word!" He slams his manuscript on Beckett's desk, scattering everything and toppling the ceramic elephants onto the floor. The resulting shatter ends the outburst and freezes the entire glut of eavesdroppers into embarrassed statues.
Beckett is the first to recover. She quietly sinks to the floor and begins cleaning up the pieces of her mother's favorite decoration. The figures are broken into relatively large pieces, so she can decide later whether the effort of repairing them is worthwhile.
Castle quickly drops to help. "I'm so sorry." He's quiet but the room is still in the throes of muted car wreck that no one can turn away from.
Her voice is very quiet and oddly devoid of emotion despite the previous several minutes of heated words. "I've got this. No need to be joined at the hip. Just go do something so everyone will quit watching us."
However much he wants to stay, he grabs his manuscript and stalks away. Captain Gates retreats to her office and the rest of the law enforcement contingent returns to the tasks at hand. Castle knows just where to go to find a valid target for his anger.
Bracken is in a holding cell after a long wait until he decided on a new attorney. The bluster disappeared when he was informed his attorney, Ben Moss, was also arrested. Bracken's second choice decided to represent Mr. Moss, and the third choice declined the case. Number four on list, Mr. Pearson, arrived only an hour ago, met with his client and made the usual recommendation to say nothing. The delay was inconsequential since the paperwork and processing of all the arrests ensured no one was going anywhere for several hours.
The writer can see the attorney is bewildered why his client agreed to this meeting. Bracken still seems arrogant enough that he expects people to want his time and attention and Castle can't wait to use that ego against him. The typed manuscript makes a loud thud as he plops it on the table. The writer gets in the right mind set and puts on a dopey grin. "It's so important to get the details right. As you can see, the story is written, but before I to go to press I wanted you to have a chance to give your input."
"If that is about my client we will seek an immediate injunction to stop publication and sue you."
Castle laughs. "This isn't an NYPD Nikki Heat story; it's a Derrick Storm novel but it does have a minor subplot about a corrupt Washington politician. If you don't have enough legal problems you're welcome to try to stop it, but you'll have to sue the publisher since my contract stipulates they deal with all legal issues. You might slow down the release date but the resulting publicity will make me twice as much money." He continues to grin like an idiot at the two men across the table.
Hearing no more threats he launches his ruse, "Now, I'm at the point where the villain, Mr. Blacken, gets out on bail and has his exit strategy planned but Derrick Storm anticipates that."
Castle feigns sincerity, "Now this is the part I really wanted to ask you about. Storm wants justice - even if it's poetic justice, so I need to take this notorious monster who is about to flee," he pauses to stare into Bracken's eyes, "and provide the readers with a fitting punishment. I need to know which scene is more haunting: Option A is where Mr. Blacken boards his private jet to fly to a non extradition country. The pilots take the black hearted man only so far because they are motivated solely by money and now work for Derrick Storm. His avengers sedate the politician and he awakens in a jungle, naked and alone, to fend for himself with no water, weapon or supplies. He is hundreds of miles from any village and he doesn't speak the local language even if he saw another human being. He lives or dies like the animal he is as nature sees fit." It's inspired by what a certain recovered alcoholic said about the man who killed his wife. Castle studies the politician's reaction.
Bracken is sitting as far back from the table as possible. He stares mutely with his mouth hanging open. For someone who destroys lives, he seems surprisingly disturbed by the thought of having his own life in peril.
After a beat Castle picks up his manuscript and deliberately slices a page over the tip of his middle finger giving himself a paper cut. He squeezes until a bright red drop of blood has the opposing men riveted with attention. "You know how annoying these things are? One little cut and every flex of the finger is a nagging, painful movement. Option B is called 'an eye for an eye.' Imagine every blade wound or gunshot inflicted on his many victims are tallied. Every day the prisoner is dragged into the yard. One wound, and only one, is repaid. Mr. Blacken gets food and water but no medical care except what he is able to perform himself. Every single day another karmic injury from his victims is plunged through the flesh of Blacken's body. In my book the tally is rather high - 166 wounds - so it will be weeks upon weeks of torment and pain. The avengers have no malice but seek only to even the score. One man specializes in disfiguring wounds and the other practices his craft of slicing tendons or ligaments leaving a lasting disability with a single swipe of the knife. Regardless of whether the villain lives or dies, the karma is balanced." Castle has a ruthless expression as he watches Bracken.
The politician has lost all color, the blood drained from his features but manages to squeak out an accusation, "You're one sick bastard."
Castle surprises him by agreeing in a low, ominous tone, "Yes I am. That's how I can write what I do, mingle with mobsters, and go to murder scenes for research. People always seem to underestimate me as nothing more than a playboy author, and that works to my advantage. Do you have anything to add to the narrative?"
"I'm not playing your game. You live in a sick fantasy world, Mr. Castle."
He gives Bracken a big smile rather than a veiled reminder of his warnings. "Yes, thank you for remembering this is all about a plot for a story and I really appreciate your input."
Bracken vehemently shakes his head, "I didn't give you anything."
Castle chuckles, almost in pity. "You're a golfer, not a poker player. I know all about the deals that get brokered on golf courses with other self important men. I prefer the nuances of poker. It's so helpful to read the micro-expressions on a person's face. They tell you so much without them ever saying a word. You've told me a few things and confirmed plenty. I'll use that information to make whatever choices are necessary - for the story. I'll see you again at the bail hearing. After your freedom is denied you won't know whether to be relieved you've escaped any possible fate like my character, or pissed that all your careful planning is for naught. Regardless, you'll have new things to worry about like how to keep from becoming a prison wife for Vulcan Simmons."
The initial retribution for Bracken's sins are starting to settle hard over the man. Castle wants his spirit crushed just like he tried to do to Kate and Jim. The mastermind of his demise wants anxiety to poke at him in the constant noise of a holding cell and his mind to race about fears of the future. The writer could say more, but these words are enough for now.
Castle returns to the homicide floor to find Beckett's desk now empty of all personal belongings. She's gone. His filter control for saying stupid things has never been strong, but lately he just can't help but get angry and pick fights with the people he most wants to coddle and love. Castle wants to follow (or run away - he's not sure which it is these days) but he can't leave right now. There is still a huge question to settle.
The possibilities churn over and over in his head and in his gut. He needs caffeine but won't risk anyone seeing him drink tea. He loiters. It's already been 90 minutes to make this encounter appear to be a lucky happenstance to anyone watching. This will decide how much additional dirt he has to somehow channel to the investigation.
Finally the opportunity presents itself when Ben Moss is being escorted back to a holding cell, Castle stops the uniformed officer. He holds up the white manuscript and begs, "Let me ask him one question. Please?"
The youngster shrugs. Castle resolutely addresses Mr. Moss, "I have a character from earlier in my career that was a shadowy player in the clandestine world named Derrick Storm. I killed him off because that was the only way he could live out his days in peace. During his retirement he once again took up the game of chess. Fate is fickle, though and I brought him back from the shadows to right a wrong. Put into the parlance of a chess game, Storm appreciates the momentous shift of power when a pawn makes the difficult journey all the way across the board to become a power piece. But the game isn't about the battle of the queens, it is won or lost by the moves and protection of the king. Derrick (Storm) can happily live with taking out the black queen and leaving the game in a draw. Regardless of what Derrick decides, however, the other player is going to execute his strategy. Do I use the momentum of white's new queen to try to force a complete victory or do I offer the draw? I know you are a master of the game, so I wondered what your response would be?
A slow nod acknowledges the question behind the question. "It speaks well of you that you ask for input about salient points instead of blundering onward like so many people in this day and age. I also appreciate the honor of a gentleman's word." He pauses to deliver a scorching look to warn anyone about dishonoring it.
Mr. Castle's sincerity assured, the essence of the exchange continues, "Chess was never meant to be a messy, chaotic match the way some of these men play it. I respect the elegant strategy of your character's play despite the unexpected shift of the queens. In this game I believe the the dark king has no quibble about losing this piece. As you have already noted, pawns can replace queens. I think Mr. Storm is wise to end the match now without seeking checkmate of the black king."
"Thank you for your insight. It's true that Derrick is battle weary, but he is an honorable man who is happy to pick his battles. He hopes to put this chess match behind him." It's Castle's turn to send a scorching look to Moss.
Moss acknowledges the warning, "Yes, I suppose it was rather unfortunate to end up at the same firm with James Beckett. The partners have stood by him despite everything, and he is a formidable chess player in his own right. Good bye, Mr. Castle. Our paths will not cross again."
It's done. Moss has withdrawn any protection from Bracken. Johanna is going to get justice. It may be anything from poetic justice to the death penalty, but this ends one way or another.
The dragon is caged.
He did it! So why is he void of any emotion? Where's the well-deserved "sugar-rush" of glee and gloating? He made amends for his past actions. He forced himself to grow up but that doesn't mean he can't enjoy the victory. It feels hallow and he's not sure why. He's not sure what's next in his life. A yawn splits his face and reminds him it's the wee hours of a very long day. That's what's next - the oblivion of sleep. Beckett is already gone so he leaves the precinct alone and melts into the darkness. Tomorrow is a new beginning.