Private Eyes 4: Extreme Ways
Chapter 1
May 20, 2013
Some days she wondered if she were dreaming, because there was no way that this was her life.
It didn't make any sense.
After losing her mother so suddenly at such a young age, something inside her had changed. It was like she had walled herself off, fortifying her heart against ever getting hurt like that ever again. She became lost in the grief that was her mother's death. It had consumed her, shaping her into the woman she'd become.
A cop. A homicide detective with the NYPD.
Everything she'd done had been with one fervent goal in mind. To solve her mother's murder. It was an obsession that drove her, making her reckless, willing to risk anything and everything for just the tiniest of clues. Propelling her headlong, right into an assassin's bullet.
Sharp and piercing. That bullet had penetrated her heart and nearly killed her.
But like the stubborn masochist she was, Kate Beckett had refused to die.
Somehow, she still didn't know how, Kate struggled through all that pain, anger, and self-doubt, and crawled her way back into the land of the living, regaining a fractured bit of sanity.
And then, over a year ago, a chance encounter changed everything. She found herself swept up into an adventure unlike any other, bringing her towards something she'd never thought possible.
A lot had happened over that year. A lot. Some, of which, she still found a little bit insane. But what she was absolutely sure of was that it had all led her to the best thing that had ever happened to her.
Rick Castle.
The love of her life.
Before meeting him, Kate had lost that spark of wonder and magic that made life fun and fulfilling. Being with him—wanting to be with him—it changed her, made her want to be more. She started believing in things, like fate and soulmates, things she'd never ever believed in. He made her want to believe.
And now, because of him, Kate found herself in a situation that, especially after her mother's death, she had never thought to find herself in. Ever.
Kate Beckett was on her honeymoon.
XXX
She didn't want to move. Her body was warm and lax. Sated. Yet the bright sunlight that filtered through the satin curtains disturbed her contentment. Pulse still pounding from their ardent lovemaking, Kate shifted closer to the man resting beside her on the bed. A soft smile touched her lips as she skimmed her fingers across his still heaving chest, marveling at the twinkling light reflecting off the golden band on her finger.
Ducking her head down, Kate nuzzled her nose against her husband's shoulder and breathed in the delicious smell of him, her, and them. A contented sigh escaped her lips.
Her husband. She almost couldn't believe it.
She was married. Her. Detective Kate Beckett was married.
It had been a simple ceremony. Private. Neither one of them had wanted an extravagant affair. Just a small group of family and friends gathered to witness the two of them pledge their love for one another.
Her father had tears in his eyes as he'd escorted her across the rooftop garden, towards her future. He'd never looked more happy or free, as if a great sorrow had been lifted from his shoulders. The life that had been put on pause when Johanna had been taken from them was finally moving forward. It was, perhaps, a moment neither of them ever thought would happen.
Now, as she rested her head against her husband's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, Kate Beckett recalled their vows.
"Meeting you was unexpected," Kate had said, clutching his hands in hers. "But the moment that I met you, my life became extraordinary. You helped guide me out of the darkness and into the light, teaching me that it was okay to believe again, to breathe. To be happy. To love, and be loved. To look forward to tomorrow's adventures. I love you. With my whole heart, more than I ever thought possible. And I want to spend the rest of my life going on those adventures with you. Because a life with you, Richard Castle, will be the greatest adventure of them all. I promise to love you, to be your friend, and your partner in all things, for the rest of my life. Always."
She'd then turned to Lanie, her maid of honor, and retrieved the golden wedding band, and vowed to love him for the rest of her life as she slid the ring onto his finger.
Castle had taken a moment to appreciate the sight, before gazing up at her with a beautiful smile that melted her heart. He'd then turned to Martin Danberg, his best man, and returned with her matching wedding ring. He'd looked into her eyes with that piercing stare that had captivated her from the start, and made his pledge.
"I wasn't expecting you," he'd began, making her laugh softly as he echoed the start of her vows. "You turned my life upside down, opening my eyes to a whole new world of possibilities. You became my rock. A beacon of light in the storm that was my life, guiding me to salvation. Knowing you, loving you, and to be loved by you, changed me, allowed me to grow, embracing a path I had long ago given up on ever finding. You taught me more about myself then I knew there was to learn. I love you, Katherine Houghton Beckett. And the mystery of you is the one I want to spend the rest of my life exploring. I promise to love you, to be your friend and your partner in all things. In this life, and whatever is beyond. I'm yours. Always."
And then he'd slid that golden band onto her finger, and they became husband and wife.
It was almost hard to believe all that had happened only two days ago, on a Friday evening in New York City, and that now she was lying in a thoroughly rumpled bed, after partaking in some enthusiastic afternoon delight with her husband… in Paris, France.
Her husband. Former CIA officer turned mystery author. Richard Castle. Just as she'd said in her wedding vows, meeting him had been the best thing to have happened to her.
"I knew they called this the city of love for a reason," the low rumble of his voice pulled her out of her thoughts.
Kate glanced up at his blissful countenance. He snaked his arm around her waist and squeezed her close. Turning in his embrace, Kate arched her chin up to meet his searching mouth in a deep kiss, one born of the profound bond of deep love they shared.
Breaking away for air, Kate sighed contentedly and snuggled back into his side. "Is it possible to be completely sexed out?" she questioned in a breathy voice.
"God, I hope not," Castle let out a bark of laughter, giving her naked behind a playful pat. "We're on our honeymoon, sweet cheeks."
Kate issued a halfhearted growl at his use of the nickname she'd once found so irritating. During the course of their relationship, the absurd endearment had become a sort of inside joke between them, a reminder of the beginning of their love story. Also, he liked using it to get a rise out of her.
To apologize—or placate—her, Castle smoothed his palm up and down her back. "Should I order room service?" he asked.
"We're in Paris, Castle," she reminded him.
"Yeah, so?"
"Well," she ran her fingers down his sternum, pausing to trace the vivid line of the vicious scar below his ribcage, a reminder of their final battle with a dastardly knave. "Not that I don't enjoy spending the entire day in bed with you, but it would be nice to actually see Paris while we're here… in Paris."
Castle let out a half chuckle. "Yeah, okay, you're right," he agreed with a grin. "You know, I've been here many times, but I've never actually seen Paris. Hell, I've never even just strolled along the Seine. Every time I've ever been here it was always about a mission."
Kate played her fingers along his ribcage. "Let's do that then," she proposed. "Stroll along the Seine. And then grab an early dinner at some riverside café. Something romantic."
"And then?" he husked out.
"And then," she danced her fingers down his chest and grinned suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows as he often did. He really was such a bad influence. "We come back here and pick up where we left off."
He hummed out a sound of approval. "Sounds like a plan, Mrs. Castle."
Kate let a low, sultry laugh escape her throat as she smiled up at him. "Glad you approve, Mr. Beckett."
She laughed more heartedly at the sudden look that overtook his face when she called him that. It was priceless. Oh, she wished she could have taken a picture. Patting his chest, she pushed up and wiggled off the bed, standing up on unsteady legs, only to then pause when she realized she needed to reach back and support herself against the side of the mattress. Okay. Yeah, she'd misjudged the effect so much sex had had on her body. Didn't help, either, that the bed was set higher than she was used to.
Kate shot Castle a glare when she caught him attempting to stifle a smirk. "Not funny," she groused.
"It's a little funny," he said, rolling up and out of the bed, only to promptly stumble after his first step before quickly righting himself.
Kate's lips quirked upwards, and her eyes went alight with amusement.
Castle cocked his head towards her with a flat stare. "Do not laugh."
She gestured towards her face, hardly suppressing the laugh as she slowly walked backwards from the bed. "I'm not laughing," she assured.
"Hey, Kate, wait… where are you going?" he inquired when she bypassed the dresser and the change of clothes to be found within.
Kate pirouetted in place with the grace of a prima ballerina, standing tall and proud, knowing exactly how her nakedness affected him, which was promptly confirmed when his darkening eyes met hers.
"If we're going to go out in public," she asserted in a crisp, precise tone, "I'm going to need to take a shower." A soft, satisfied smile touched her lips when she noticed his eyes started to glaze over as his gaze began to drift down her nude body, still slick with sweat from their enthusiastic newlywed lovemaking. Pouting her lips, she husked out in a low voice, dripping with sex, "Care to join me, Rick?"
His eyes snapped back up to hers and he grinned roguishly. She grinned back, knowing exactly what was implied in her invitation. And that it would postpone their departure.
"Really?"
Kate offered him a saucy wink. "Well… as you said, babe, we are on our honeymoon." And then she spun around, padding towards the ensuite and the luxurious shower therein, adding a little extra sway to her hips. Her grin turned into a smirk when she immediately heard the hurried footfalls of her husband following to join her without delay.
The city of lights could wait a little while longer. Kate Beckett was on her honeymoon, and she planned to enjoy every minute of it.
XXX
CIA Officer Martin Danberg sat at his desk, flipping through numerous case files in preparation for his quarterly review. Four months into the new administration, and Director Reynolds had stalled as long as he could. The new Director of National Intelligence wanted a thorough debriefing on the Consortium.
The whole affair was a mess. They weren't nearly through cleaning house, as it were. While the Kingmaker, former Secretary of State Benjamin J. Moss, had been taken into custody, along with other former and current elected officials, such as Senator William H. Bracken, the Consortium was far from dismantled. There was a lot of work left to do. DNI Edmund Scott's need for a full debriefing on the subject was only going to delay things further.
Danberg sighed.
He once again found himself wishing Rick Castle hadn't resigned. But he understood his friend's reasons and respected his decision to leave the Agency. However, he could sure use his help tracking down and neutralizing the remnants of the Consortium's organization. The files found on ADD Dan Kovaks's computer weren't as extensive as originally believed. Those encrypted documents had turned out to be little more than simple blackmail material that the now deceased assistant deputy director had kept on the upper echelons of the criminal enterprise.
In essence, they were working with an incomplete list.
Danberg feared that the Consortium was like the mythical hydra: When one head was cut off, two others would grow in its place.
His desk phone rang, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"Yes," he answered. His eyes went wide upon hearing the message. "I'll be right there."
Hanging up, Danberg quickly gathered up the files and folders scattered across his desk, and piled them into his wall safe. After securing them, he left his office and marched down the hall towards the door that led to this section's Operations Center. He placed his hand over the palm scanner mounted on the wall beside the door and waited for the security system to clear him through.
After a few seconds, the panel buzzed and the locking mechanism audibly unbolted with a series of clunks and clicks. Gripping the handle, Danberg opened the door and strolled inside the dimly lit room. It was a much smaller Operations Center than those in his previous posts, but just as powerful and capable. A long table was set up in the middle of the room, computer consoles spaced back-to-back along the sides and at the ends, each with a harried technician punching away on a keyboard. Three large screens dominated the opposite wall, each depicting different scenes.
His eyes were drawn to the center flatscreen, which showed a satellite overlay of the city of Paris, France.
Placing his hands on his hips, Danberg asked, "Okay, what have we got?"
"Possible sighting of CO-617," Vikram Singh announced from his station on the left side of the room.
Danberg nodded and marched around the table to join him at his console. The analyst and computer specialist had worked with Castle during the takedown of the Consortium the previous year. Jackson Hunt had brought the tech into Operation Mongoose during the early days of that covert task force. It wasn't until the assassination of Vice President Russell that the group's mandate also extended to hunting down Ray Kilmer.
Following the capture of the Consortium's top brass, the task force had been disbanded, and its members reassigned. For some reason, even he couldn't explain, Danberg had wanted to keep the young tech with him.
Perhaps it was because he needed someone he trusted in his new posting.
Whatever the reasons, Vikram's transfer to Operation Rodeo had been approved. Danberg suspected NCS Director Samson York had a hand in that, one of his last acts before his forced retirement. He'd shouldered most of the blame for the disaster at the Bunker. Director Reynolds was walking a thin line with the new administration as well.
It certainly didn't help that an injured Elena Markov had been taken out of their custody by unknown assailants, depriving the Agency of a valuable resource into information on the Consortium and its extended networks. Danberg had his suspicions, but wasn't yet willing to give them voice under the current climate at Langley. Though, he knew it was only a matter of time until others would be willing to admit as much. That the Consortium really wasn't gone.
With the Board eliminated, middle management had taken control.
This battle was far from over.
"Do we have confirmation?" Danberg asked when he reached Vikram.
"Running facial recognition algorithms now," the tech replied, tapping at his computer.
A buzz came from the door, and Danberg arched his neck, pursing his lips as his new superior, ADD Pamela Grayson stalked into the room, as always with Deputy Section Chief Emmett Grisham, her constant shadow. A formidable woman of Nordic descent, Grayson had her blonde hair tied back in a low ponytail and her green eyes scanned the room, assessing things, before approaching Danberg and Vikram.
"Grisham tells me we might have a hit on Elena Markov," she said in a nonchalant manner.
"Possibly," hedged Danberg, wary of jumping the gun. He glanced quickly at Emmett Grisham, before redirecting his focus back to his superior. "We're still waiting on confirmation from facial rec."
Grayson glanced up at the wall screens, noting the overlays and satellite feeds. "She's in Paris."
"Again, possibly," Danberg repeated.
Grisham stepped around them and punched a key on the console by Vikram, transferring the tech's screen to the wall monitor. "The system wouldn't have pinged an alert if the possibility wasn't high," he said in a condescending tone.
"Agreed," Grayson nodded thoughtfully, folding her arms across her chest. Her tone, however, wasn't as harsh.
Danberg didn't know her that well, only by reputation. She was known for being highly intelligent, methodical, and very effective. So far, she'd been reasonable and just in her command of Operation Rodeo. He had to remind himself that she wasn't Sophia Turner. His former partner's betrayal and treason still affected him more than he was willing to admit. All the same, he remained cautiously optimistic that ADD Grayson wouldn't disappoint.
He watched as she narrowed her eyes and paced the room.
"Pull up our dossier on her," she ordered, and a female tech sitting at the central console complied, punching the appropriate commands into her terminal and putting the information up onto the flatscreen Grayson indicated.
"We're assuming Elena Markov is an alias, not her birthname?"
Danberg shrugged. "It's the only name we have on file."
"Besides her Consortium codename…," Grayson squinted as she recalled, "The Swan." She let out a little huff. "A little on the nose, I think. But the Consortium did have a way with pseudonyms, I'll grant them that."
"We think she was freelance," Danberg offered. "Not part of the organization. A hired gun. Similar to Kilmer. In the beginning."
Grayson inclined her head, turning back around to face him. "Yes, I've been fully briefed on Ray Kilmer. The Knave." She shook her head. "I knew him as Cole Maddox, but that was another life."
Danberg raised his eyebrows. This was news to him. "Was he one of yours?"
"Yes. He was in my unit for a time," Grayson confirmed. "This was long before his mental break." She paused for a moment, seemingly absorbed in memories.
But before Danberg could inquire further, they got a ping from the facial recognition software. Grayson snapped her fingers and pointed at the center monitor. Vikram obliged, and the results appeared on the display.
"Ninety-seven-point-two percent match on facial rec," Vikram announced.
"It's her," Grayson affirmed, glaring at the images.
The first showed Elena Markov's photo ID, the one that had been on her person when she'd come to the FBI masquerading as a mail order bride turned reluctant drug courier. It had all been a ruse. Bracken had employed her to help set Detective Kate Beckett up. Danberg still felt some small guilt for his part in not realizing the danger. But to be fair, at the time they hadn't yet known who Elena Markov really was.
Shifting, Danberg watched the video feed on the second image that showed the assassin gliding seamlessly through the packed crowds at the arrival terminal at the Gare du Nord, one of the busiest railway stations in Europe. The video froze and locked in on a close up, confirming identity. Once again, he was struck by the striking resemblance to Detective Kate Beckett.
"Do we know where that train came from?" Grayson asked.
"A Eurostar," Grisham said from his position looking over the shoulder of a female tech analyst. "Origin… London."
Danberg jerked his head up.
"Do you still think she's working freelance, Mr. Danberg?" Grayson inquired, raising an eyebrow.
He pursed his lips, knowing what she was getting at.
Several weeks ago, a high-profile diplomat was found dead of an apparent drug overdose in a suite at the Mandarin Oriental in London. The deceased, Lord Hubert Garvin Ashington III, was a close personal friend of the British Prime Minister, and had been involved in secret talks with the US State Department on behalf of Downing Street. But there was more that had attracted the Agency's attention. Lord Ashington's name had featured prominently within ADD Kovaks's files on the Consortium's UK leadership.
His death, therefore, was highly suspect.
A run on the CCTV footage from the surrounding area had spotted Elena Markov in the vicinity around the time of death. And that couldn't have been a coincidence.
"The Director is not going to like this," Grisham asserted, carding his fingers through his dark hair.
Danberg silently agreed with Grisham's assessment. Recent scuttlebutt within headquarters was that the new president was searching for a replacement to head the Agency, and that it was only a matter of time until Reynolds would be asked to step down as Director of the CIA.
Knitting his eyebrows together, Danberg met Grayson's gaze. She lifted a hand and subtly gestured him towards the corner of the room. He hesitated for a moment, sharing a look with Vikram. The analyst inclined his head, and Danberg patted the younger man's shoulder before moving to join ADD Grayson. As he approached, he heard Grisham giving the room orders to search their databases for any known Consortium associates in or around Paris.
"Ma'am," Danberg offered a slight bow of his head.
"I know you suspect the same thing," Grayson said in a soft voice, her eyes darting towards the cluster of computer techs and monitors before returning to his. The message was clear. She didn't want their conversation to be overheard. "They rescued her. Patched her up. And now she's working for them. Eliminating potential leaks. During the past three months we've spotted Elena Markov in Berlin, Milan, Athens, Cairo, and… London. And a clear pattern has emerged. Each time her appearance corresponded with the death of an individual listed in the Kovaks files. It's taking us too long to decrypt all those documents. And she's beating us to it. Silencing them before we can take them into custody and question them."
She turned slightly, glancing over at the surveillance video from the Gare du Nord, her green eyes tracing the figure of Elena Markov moving through the crowded concourse.
"Kilmer took out the Board, attempting a coup," Grayson summarized, continuing in that quiet voice. "Instead, he opened the door for Secretary Moss to become the Kingmaker, but not for long. The documents and hidden files found on Dan Kovaks's hard drive provided us with enough evidence to take Moss into custody, along with other prominent members of the Consortium leadership, which left a power vacuum." She paused, and then said, in a voice barely above a whisper, "You're not alone, Mr. Danberg. There are others that believe the same thing. It's why I requested your posting to my section."
Danberg couldn't help but smile. Finally, someone who agreed with him. "Do we know who's in charge now?" he asked, matching her confidential tone.
"Not yet," she answered, squinting slightly. "Elena Markov is our only lead."
"Then we need to get a hold of her," Danberg asserted. "Interrogate her properly."
Grayson's reply would have to wait, however, as Grisham interrupted them.
"We've got a hit on one of the names," he announced.
"Later," Grayson murmured, before stepping around Danberg and striding over to the Deputy Section Chief. "Best guess. Who's her target?"
"André Perrault, businessman," Grisham read from over the shoulder of an analyst.
Grayson snapped her fingers, and one of the computer techs transferred the man's dossier up to the indicated wall screen. Danberg moved to stand beside her as she skimmed the information. "What's his connection to the Consortium?"
"Vikram?" Danberg called, knowing the younger man could provide them with an answer faster than the other analysts.
"Right… um…," Vikram ducked his head down as his fingers flew across his keyboard. "He owns a large server farm in northern France. His Consortium codename is… Locksmith."
"Data," Danberg concluded. "Perrault's servers must be where the Consortium either stored or backed up their digital data."
A small smile touched Grayson's lips. "Might be, yes," she agreed.
"If she's following pattern, she's there to kill him," Danberg noted.
Grayson nodded, furrowing her brow as she looked back up at André Perrault's dossier from the Kovaks files. "We need to locate Perrault."
The clatter of keys filled the room as every tech analyst went on the hunt. Danberg shifted his feet and waited, surveying the room, watching as the men and women of the Operations Center did their job. He missed Grant Riley. The tech had been his go-to analyst for years, but while Danberg had been transferred back to Langley and reassigned to Operation Rodeo, Riley had remained in the CIA offices in the New York City Federal Building. At least he was able to bring Vikram Singh along with him. Rick Castle had trusted the young computer specialist, and that was the best recommendation Danberg could think of.
"I think I've got something," came Vikram's voice. Somehow Danberg wasn't surprised he was the first.
He cut off Grisham as he went to Vikram's station. "Show me."
"He's currently in Orléans," Vikram said. "But I've managed to hack into his datebook, and according to his schedule, he has some sort of meeting in Paris tomorrow afternoon."
Grayson narrowed her eyes. "What sort of meeting?" she asked, stepping closer.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, the datebook isn't that specific," Vikram answered in an apologetic tone. "But it does list a restaurant."
Danberg patted the man's shoulder, letting him know he did good. "She must know his itinerary."
"The question is: Does he know he's being targeted?" Grayson speculated out loud. Her eyebrows knitted together as she mulled over potential scenarios. "We don't know enough. Do we have any operatives in Paris?"
Grisham nudged aside a female computer tech to use her console, and pulled up Operation Rodeo's roster. He bobbed his head as he glanced back up. "Gibson and Parker."
As Grayson and Grisham started planning a surveillance operation for Paris, Danberg frowned as he suddenly recalled the events of the previous Friday in New York, where he'd been Rick Castle's best man. Paris. That's where Castle told him that he and Kate would be honeymooning. His frown deepened. It had him wondering if there was more than one reason Elena Markov was in Paris. But just as the thought occurred, he tossed it aside. Every scrap of evidence, which—granted—wasn't much, suggested that the assassin didn't hold grudges or seek revenge.
Still, the possibility had him worried for his friends.