The Children's Corner
Chapter 26
"We tried to keep the part where Tartuffe tries to feel up Dorine a secret," Alexis explains over a large serving of chili fries. "In the script, he just tells her to cover her bosom with his handkerchief."
"I remember," Martha replies wistfully. "The director had the character try a similar move when I played Dorine. But I had to grab the handkerchief, rip it up, and shove it at him while I said, 'If I saw you naked as a beast, not all your hide would tempt me in the least.' As I recall, the costume mistress had to wash Tartuffe's handkerchiefs in bleach twenty times to make them fragile enough for me to tear that fast."
"Our Tartuffe uses a silk handkerchief, and I don't think Hudson's theater department has the budget to spring for more than one," Alexis explains. "But I thought the audience loved seeing Dorine smack him down."
"Most audiences enjoy seeing phony self-righteous blowhards get what's coming to them," Martha observes.
"If you don't count the viewers of certain cable news stations," Rick quips. "But I saw a bulletin before we left. Another on-air defender of godliness and family values is getting sued for sexual assault. It takes more than the length of a play, but sometimes karma catches up."
"But often they need someone like Alexis or Dana to make sure it does," Craig puts in.
Rick beams proudly at his daughter. "Very true. So, do you know your return date to the crime-busting halls of C.S.U. yet?"
"I got an email just before I left for the theater tonight. My background check is done. Everything is approved. I can start as soon as I can present proof of graduation, which should be the last week of May. And I…."
Gasps ripple through the dining room as a man bursts through the entrance. Rick can clearly make out explosives on the intruder's vest, and the man's hand is curled around what looks like a detonator on a short cable. The new arrival turns shakily as Rick pushes up from the table. "I'm Richard Castle. I own this restaurant. Whatever you need, I'm the one to get it for you. What do you want?"
"Richard Castle, the writer?" the suicide bomber demands.
"Yes. So…."
"And this place is full of other writers, right?"
"Sometimes," Rick confirms. "What do you want from writers?"
With his free hand, the bomber pulls a sheaf of paper from under his vest. "I have a manuscript to get published, and no one will publish it for me. It needs to be published. This country has to know the truth."
"So you're also a writer. Do I know your work? What's your name?"
"Ted Ketesky, but you don't know me. No one does. But they have to. The future of this country depends on it."
"Listen, Ted," Rick advises. "I had to send my first book to 20 publishers before Black Pawn accepted it. Getting a publisher's attention is hard. It can take years. But if you need to get something out there now, you can upload an e-file to Amazon. They'll put it on Kindle for free and send you the royalties. You don't need to threaten my customers. And you don't need help from me or any other writers."
Muscles pop on the hinges of Ketesky's jaw. "Everyone knows about Amazon. Don't you think I tried sending it to them? They wouldn't take it. They said it didn't fit their guidelines because it incited violence. But I'm not trying to hurt this country. I'm trying to save it!"
Rick lets his eyes flick downward as he feels the pressure of Kate's foot against his calf. The drape of her nursing blouse covers her hands. But he can make out the outline of her phone beneath the fabric. No doubt, the police are stealthily on their way – maybe even a negotiating team. Still, right now, he seems to be the one standing between a roomful of innocent diners, including his own family, and a big boom. "OK, Ted. I own part of Black Pawn now. I can help you. I can read your manuscript and let you know how fast we can put it out. Does that sound fair?"
"I want you and everyone at your table to put their hands up first, so I know you're not going to try to pull anything," Ted commands.
Holding her breath, Kate balances her still-concealed phone on her thighs. Then raising her arms, she motions to everyone else at the table to do the same.
Rick inclines his head toward his family. "All right, Ted, you can see everyone's hands. Now give me what you need me to read."
Ketesky's fingers tremble as he surrenders his writings. Taking the manuscript, Rick prays that the thumb on the detonator doesn't quake enough to set it off. "Just take a breath, Ted. I'm a speed reader. It won't take me long to look this over."
Rick scans the text. He'd expected a jumble of words espousing discredited conspiracy theories. But what he sees reads more like a sci-fi novel. In fact, he notices phrases cribbed from some of Heinlein's more politically conservative books. Ketesky's aliens are derivative too.
If the text were just a story, and Ted excised the plagiarism, Rick might actually pass it on to science fiction publisher Olympus for consideration. But unfortunately, Ted seems to believe that aliens are actually poised to invade Earth and that only those who'll sign up to fight them are worthy of citizenship. And Ted also wants Terrans to rise up against immigrants who are really aliens taking human form.
Rick suppresses a shudder. As if people weren't hostile enough to new arrivals already. No wonder Amazon wanted no part of Ted's thesis as non-fiction. No publishers in their right minds would touch it. But he has to say something positive until either police can intervene or he can convince Ketesky to let go of the switch.
"Ted, I have to compliment you on your structure and flow. I usually don't see that level of clarity in first-time authors. But there are a few things we should look at before it goes to press. I can see how vital your information is. I think any writer worth his salt would. But some readers get lazy reading longer sentences and miss the full import. You wouldn't want anyone to miss anything, would you?"
"No, I need people to understand everything. We all have to stand against our attackers."
"Of course we do. So I'll tell you what. There's a booth near the kitchen where we can sit and go over all of this together. Then, once we get a few passages straightened out, I'll tell Black Pawn to get it to press."
"You'd do that for me?"
"I'm doing it for humanity," Rick declares, catching the eye of the manager, Mark, and two of the servers. "OK, it's this way. You just have to slip in."
As Ted attempts to slide his way onto a bench in the cramped seating, his fingers loosen slightly on the trigger. Rick grabs it as Mark and the servers move in to take Ted down. Kate immediately joins them to ensure Ted is secure. She gives the N.Y.P.D. the all-clear to enter and kneels on the floor next to her husband.
Even without sirens, as Rick clings tightly to the detonator, he can hear a rush of vehicles approaching. Those have to be from the N.Y.P.D. Hopefully, they brought the bomb squad.