Private Eyes 4: Extreme Ways
Chapter 2
Rick Castle let out a frustrated grunt, fumbling with the flat, rectangular device in his hands.
This was absurd.
He was a former special field operative for the CIA—one of their best—yet here he was, struggling to work a cellphone. Granted, it had been a long while since he'd ever used a publicly sold consumer product in this capacity. Castle had long used the steadfast TCD-74, a cutting-edge cellular device concealed within the casing of an archaic flip phone, camouflage for its computer power and high-end telecommunications functions. And, if it were up to him, he'd still be using the TCD-74, but his girlfriend—no, his wife, she was his wife now—had insisted on purchasing him an Apple iPhone.
"Having trouble there, babe?"
Jerking his eyes up, Castle saw her trying and failing not to laugh at him.
"Shut up," he grumbled, but the upturn at the corners of his mouth belied any grouchiness. "Ah! There. Got it!" he exclaimed once he got the blasted device to open up. He tapped his thumb over the camera icon and the photograph function opened up.
Kate, dressed in a white ruffle tiered empire waist mini summer sundress, stretched out an arm and wrapped it around the lamppost as she posed for the photo. Her gorgeous hair fluttered about her beaming face as Castle snapped a few photos from different angles, trying his best to capture the beauty he saw every day.
"Done?" she asked when he stopped.
Nodding, he shifted as she practically skipped over to join him. Kate casually draped an arm over his shoulder and leaned into his side as she looked down at the screen while he flipped through the photos that he had taken of her on the Pont des Arts bridge.
"Oh, babe, these are nice," she purred into his ear. "I especially like the one with the Eiffel Tower in the background."
"I thought you might."
And then, before he could react, she was snatching the iPhone out of his hands and deftly flipping it around to take a selfie of the two of them. She flashed him a wink and then tilted her chin up to kiss his cheek.
"Perfect," she declared when she lowered the phone and checked the picture.
Castle stared down at the image of him grinning at the camera while Kate leaned into his side, eyes closed as she kissed his cheek. She looked so carefree and in love in the photo. And he'd never seen himself look so happy. It was beautiful.
"A keeper," he concurred.
Kate let out a soft giggle as he recovered his iPhone from her with a quick move, and then slipped it back into his pocket with a theatrical flourish. God, he was so in love with her. It was almost impossible to believe that there was a time in his life where he did not love this woman. Castle would be forever grateful to whatever providence had guided him to her. They'd only really known each other for a few short years, yet it felt like he'd always known her. It was the romantic in him that believed in such things. And Castle liked to believe that they were fated for each other.
In whatever universe, in whatever plane of existence, in whatever time or place, Richard Castle would always love Katherine Beckett.
He would accept nothing less.
"Got the padlock?" she questioned animatedly, slipping her hand down his back.
"You bet," he grinned as he retrieved it from his other pocket.
Castle handed it to her and watched as she turned it over in her fingers, tracing the etching on the face of their initials linked by a plus sign and the word 'always' inscribed beneath. He gripped her free hand and led her over to the fence, where they strolled in search of a spot amongst the numerous other padlocks that covered the railing along the bridge.
"Here," he suggested.
"Yes. Here," she agreed with a smile.
Releasing his hand, Kate gave him the padlock, and Castle knelt down. With a concentrated brow, he slipped the looped clip through the chain-link on the railing and then snapped the lock into place. He turned the key and gave the padlock a tug, satisfied when it remained secured. Standing back up, he noticed Kate had her iPhone out and was taking pictures of him performing the task.
"Lanie made me promise to have lots of photos," Kate explained, as she bent down and took a close-up of their love lock.
"Oh," he hummed as he stepped back over to her. "And here I thought it was all the juicy details she'd want."
"That too," Kate grinned, eyes sparkling.
Castle shook his head as he chuckled. "Shall we, Mrs. Castle?" he inquired, holding up the padlock's key in his left hand.
Biting her lower lip, Kate seemed to vibrate with her giddiness. "We shall, Mr. Beckett," she replied, smirking at his narrowed eyes.
They folded their hands together, the key trapped between their palms. Castle brought their joined hands up to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Kate did the same, brushing her lips against the back of his hand while glancing up at him with a smoky, sultry look. He couldn't hold back the groan of want. Oh, she was going to pay for that when they got back to their hotel suite.
Castle led the way up to the railing and they paused for a long beat as they stared down at the Seine. And then, as one, they lifted their joined hands and slowly moved them out over the edge, as far as their limbs would allow. Castle glanced over at Kate, seeing her standing beside him with her eyes closed, inhaling slowly, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath. His gaze skimmed down the slender column of her throat, across her gorgeous collar bones, and eventually came to rest on the delicate swell of her cleavage just peeking out through the modest neckline of her light sundress, before snapping back up, least he be discovered.
A tight smile touched her pursed lips, revealing she knew his gaze had wandered. Fluttering her eyelashes, Kate looked across at him with an amused glint in her arresting brown eyes.
"You really have gorgeous eyes," he remarked.
She merely hummed in response, not fooled at all.
Castle offered her a smirk and wink.
"To us," she proclaimed, her voice firm with righteous conviction.
"To us," Castle echoed.
Then, as one, they parted their joined hands and watched as the key tumbled down through the air before disappearing into the streaming water below, sinking to the bottom of the Seine. Kate beamed radiantly, and Castle recaptured her hand, offering an affectionate squeeze, before letting go and sliding in behind her, slipping his arms around her slim waist and hugging her back to his chest.
Kate sighed and leaned back into him, arching her neck over her shoulder so that his searching mouth could find hers in a sweet kiss. Castle tightened his arms around her, and she let out a soft little mewl of contentment, before they parted for air. Her hands dropped down to land atop his.
"I love you, Castle, so much," she said.
He hugged her again, nuzzling the top of her head, breathing in her intoxicating scent. "I love you, too, Kate," he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me."
"Ditto."
They stayed like that in silence, staring out at the Seine and the city of Paris, simply being, basking in a quiet moment together whilst on their honeymoon.
"So…," he drawled out as she turned into his arms to face him, her hands landing on his chest as she arched her neck up to look at him. "Should we find a little riverside café and have that early dinner? Rumor is, they have pretty good coffee here."
Kate let out a hum of agreement as she looped her arms around his neck. "Sounds good, but first…," she trailed off as she pushed up and captured his mouth in a long and satisfying kiss.
XXX
She checked her wristwatch as the bellhop, dressed in a crisp burgundy uniform with gold highlights, opened the door to her room, and then presented her with the key. Offering the lanky young man a demure smile, she placed a munificent tip into his outstretched hand, ensuring his discretion. The young man beamed with gratitude and bowed his head, murmuring profuse thanks. She paused at the opened threshold, casually resting a hand on the jamb, watching as he strolled down the elegant hallway, an extra kick to his step. Perhaps already planning what to do with the extra money.
Of course, she thought calculatingly, she could always terminate him later, if necessary, but she preferred to keep things clean. Her predecessors didn't. Which was why they were her predecessors and not her colleagues. There was something to be said for not reaching above one's station.
With one last parting glance at the young lad, Elena Markov slipped inside her hotel room and secured the door behind her.
It was nothing fancy, but definitely of far superior quality and amenities than she'd been provided under the previous management. She sauntered over to the single mattress, which took up most of the room, and traced her fingers over the bedsheets. Egyptian cotton. Nice. She would get a good night's sleep tonight.
Well deserved, she believed.
She slipped the strap of her leather satchel off her shoulder and placed the bag on the top of the mattress.
Turning, she stepped over and opened the tall cabinet pushed up against the adjacent wall. She found a black garment bag on the hanger awaiting her. Pursing her lips, she reached inside and delicately tugged the zipper down the middle of the protector, revealing a fashionable black y-neck mesh cut-out dress with a short skirt. Running her fingertips along the smooth fabric, she smiled, knowing it would fit perfectly, hugging her curves in all the right places.
Satisfied with the high quality of the dress—she didn't often get to wear such nice things—Elena crouched down to where the room safe was located, tucked underneath the luggage rack. Knitting her eyebrows together, she punched in the passcode provided to her through an encrypted text sent while she was en route.
The electronic lock buzzed and the tumblers made an audible thunk as they unbolted. She twisted the handled and pulled the hatch open. Inside was a small metallic box. Elena lifted it out of the safe and took it over to the compact desk pushed into the corner of the hotel room. There was a thumb print scanner on the top. Pressing her thumb to the scanner, Elena waited for it to read and confirm her identity.
Once the device confirmed she was, in fact, Elena Markov, the latch disengaged. Pushing the lid up, she found a MP-443 Grach semi-automatic pistol in a foamed cushion, along with a silencer for her to attach. There was also a small envelope taped to the back of the lid.
Sitting down in the office chair, Elena removed the envelope and deftly opened it, finding a one-page dossier on her target, along with a photograph. On the backside of the photo was a location and date. Furrowing her brow in concentration, she studied the image of a man in his early to mid-50s with silvery gray hair and a thin black mustache.
She recognized him.
The Locksmith.
Retrieving her satchel, Elena took her laptop out, powered it up, and logged into the hotel's Wi-Fi. After ensuring her online activity was encrypted and couldn't be traced back, Elena then spent the next hour familiarizing herself with the best routes to and from the location where she would find her target.
Her cellphone started to buzz around the time she began to think about ordering a late lunch—or early dinner, depending on one's point of view. Retrieving the offending device from her pocket, she pursed her lips and answered the call.
"Yes."
"Did you receive the package?" came a heavily modified voice, however, the electronic modulator couldn't conceal that the speaker was male.
"Yes," she replied.
"Do you foresee any problems?" asked her handler.
Elena glanced back over at the photo and dossier. "None."
"Good. Check at the bottom of the garment bag. We've included something that might be useful in your escape. Report when completion is achieved."
"Всегда," she answered in her native tongue, allowing herself the briefest of smirks as the call was ended. Always.
Putting the phone down, Elena reached for the photograph again and held it up, narrowing her eyes as she stared at the face of the man she'd been sent to kill.
XXX
As much as she enjoyed spending hours and hours in bed with her husband—her husband. Wow. She'd never get tired of that—Kate was glad they'd slipped out of their luxurious hotel suite to explore the city. During her college days, she'd spent a semester abroad in Kiev, and while she had fun learning the language and immersing herself in the local culture, Kiev was no Paris.
For one thing, she didn't have Castle in Kiev.
She'd never been to Paris, but had always wanted to. And now she was here. There was so much to see and do, but their time was finite. Their honeymoon wouldn't last forever. They both had a life back in New York City, and while having this time alone was lovely, building their lives together was going to be a brilliant adventure that she was very much looking forward to.
"Where are you?"
Kate blinked, surprised by his voice. She flicked her eyes up to see his curious expression. She couldn't help but smile as she reached across the small table to take his hand in hers, interlacing their fingers.
"Home," she said, her answer having multiple meanings.
He pressed his lips together and grinned. The sparkle in his cobalt blue eyes told her he understood. It was funny. Home really was where the heart was. Castle was her home. Wherever they were, whenever, as long as they were together, that was home.
"You know," he tilted his head, ever so slightly, "I don't think I've ever really had a home before. Not really. Until I met you." His gaze snapped back to hers. "I can't thank you enough for that, Kate."
She let out a low chuckle and shook her head. "We're pretty much on par with that, Castle," she asserted. "Let's just call it even, shall we?"
"But… I wanted to spend the evening thanking you, repeatedly," he stuck on his lower lip in a boyish pout, managing to both whine and seduce at the same time. A talent that was very much all his. Only he could pull off such contrary forms of speech at once.
"Well," Kate drawled out, leaning forward, flashing him a sultry look. "How can a girl say no to that?"
His lips twitched upwards. "Precisely."
She bit her lower lip as she felt her chest, along with other parts, flush with anticipation. It was absurd, really. They'd spent most of the morning wrapped up in each other, yet she couldn't wait to get back to their hotel suite and pick up where they left off. Perhaps there really was such a thing as a honeymoon phase.
"Let me just pop into the powder room, and we'll head back to the hotel," she said, pushing back in her chair and standing up.
Castle nodded, practically jumping to his feet. "I'll meet you outside."
She left him to pay the check, and maneuvered her way around the other tables and diners, slipping into the narrow hall in the rear of the small restaurant. After, she thanked the staff for a lovely meal as she strolled out, finding him waiting for her on the walkway that looked down the Seine. As she approached, Kate noted an odd expression on his face. His brow furrowed, and his eyes appeared distant.
"Everything okay?" she asked, touching his arm.
"Huh? Oh, yeah," he shook his head. "Just… thinking."
"About?"
"It's nothing," he deflected, releasing a quick breath, telling her keen observations skills that it was anything but. Yet before she could press him further, he instantly transformed, smiling wildly and waggling his eyebrows as he took her hand and looped their arms together. "I called ahead, there should be a bottle of that excellent wine you like. You know the one."
"Did you?"
"Yep," he answered with a smirk, yet it didn't fully light up his eyes as it usually did. He was… distracted.
"Castle," she said, tugging on his arm to bring them to a halt. She reached up and cupped his jaw. "If something was wrong, you'd tell me, right?"
"Of course," he assured, clutching her hand in his and gazing down at her with soft eyes.
"All right," she relented, knowing it was futile to continue pushing. This was Rick Castle, after all. He was a former CIA field operative. One of their best. He'd been trained to withstand interrogations far more aggressive than she was willing to administer.
Besides, Kate thought as they continued their stroll along the Seine, she had other ways to get him to talk.
XXX
Shoving his cellphone back into his jacket pocket, Danberg frowned as he made his way down the corridor. He felt bad about disrupting their honeymoon, but Castle deserved to have some advance warning about Elena Markov's appearance in Paris. His friend hadn't been too happy with the implications of the call, but Danberg assured him there were no expectations other than giving him a head's up. Still, it had been the right thing to do.
He turned the corner and stepped into Assistant Deputy Director Pamela Grayson's section. There were a scattering of analysts and technicians in the bullpen, all working on prep for the upcoming operation.
Danberg paused at the threshold, letting his gaze scan the open room. A tight smile touched his lips when he didn't spot Grisham. The Deputy Section Chief wasn't particularly one of his favorite people. The other man was probably still running the operations center while Danberg was out.
A young analyst of Southeast Asian descent glanced up from her console. "She's waiting for you."
"Thanks, Connie," Danberg nodded. He straightened his jacket and inhaled deeply before stepping around the desk and making his way towards the closed office door on the opposite side of the bullpen. He knocked lightly and waited.
"Come."
Opening the door, Danberg entered ADD Pamela Grayson's office. She had a large window that looked out to the courtyard below, and the walls were decorated with her numerous credentials, as well as an array of photographs of her with various diplomats and VIPs. She was standing behind her desk, and motioned Danberg in.
"You told Castle."
Direct. He liked it. Danberg couldn't help but smile. "You're perceptive."
Grayson returned the smile. "I wouldn't be where I am if I wasn't. Don't worry, you're not in trouble. And… well, I make it a point to know my people."
The tight purse of her lips told him that there was a story behind that, and he suspected it had to do with Ray Kilmer. The man's betrayal would be a sore subject around the Agency for years to come. Danberg simply inclined his head in response. She continued to impress.
Shifting her stance, Grayson put her hands on her hips as she glanced down at the files scattered over her desk. "I know we have Gibson and Parker on this, but with someone like Elena Markov, I'd prefer more manpower."
"Ma'am," Danberg interjected, sensing where she was going. "He's retired, and he's on his honeymoon. Castle understood why I called to warn him, we've always had each other's back, but he wasn't too happy about it either."
Grayson narrowed her eyes. "He thought you were trying to recruit him into an operation."
"I wouldn't say that. Wait—are we?"
"Well, he's already in the area," she offered with a shrug.
"Whoa, wait a minute," Danberg held up his hands. He felt the need to defend his friend. "He has no obligation to us anymore."
"I wouldn't be too sure about that, Mister Danberg," came a stern and powerful voice from behind him.
He recognized the voice immediately. Arching a brow, he glanced over his shoulder to have it confirmed when he spied a familiar imposing form with a thick stock of white hair. Jackson Hunt.
"Sir," Danberg acknowledged with a curt nod.
"Agent Castle may have resigned, but he still has obligations," Hunt asserted with authority. "He knows it. But won't admit it. I'm afraid he gets that stubbornness from me."
Grayson shifted her gaze from Danberg to Jackson Hunt. "And what exactly are you suggesting, Agent Hunt?" she asked. "We can't exactly force Rick Castle to participate in our operation."
"You can," Hunt said with a firm conviction that had even Danberg believing him. "And you should. He knows the regulations. All of them. We made certain of that."
"All of them?"
"All of them," Hunt repeated, inclining his head.
Grayson's eyebrows knitted together. "You can't be serious?" she scoffed, incredulous, giving the senior operative a pointed look.
Danberg was at a loss as to what his two superiors were talking about. He was well aware of the regulations and didn't know of any that allowed a retired officer to be abruptly pulled back into service. Noticing his puzzled expression, Hunt offered a tight smirk and stepped out of the shadows, pocketing one hand. Danberg glanced back to Grayson, who was shaking her head, clearly understanding what it was that Jackson Hunt had in mind, and disagreeing.
"What is it?" Danberg asked, and was surprised when the senior agent provided an answer.
Jackson Hunt cocked his head towards Danberg, projecting a magisterial demeanor.
"The little-known, seldom used reserve activation clause," Hunt informed him with a flat, dispassionate tone. "It states: An officer in good standing may reinstate a discharged officer in an emergency."
"No, that can't be," he shook his head. "That sounds made up."
"I assure you, it is not," Hunt asserted with a severe expression.
This was news to him. He couldn't recall such a clause. Danberg knitted his eyebrows together as he cataloged the brand-new information. Intending to object, he shifted towards Hunt, but Grayson beat him to the punch.
"I hardly think this situation qualifies as an emergency," she asserted with a disapproving tone. "And it certainly isn't in keeping with the spirit of that particular clause. It was never intended to be used, except under extreme measures."
Hunt stood impassively under her blunt assessment, showing no reaction. When she was finished, he simply asked, in a calm voice, "You have two operatives on site, yes. Just how qualified are they to deal with a target as formidable as Elena Markov?"
Danberg watched as Grayson's jaw tightened. Her eyes flicked over to him, then returned to meet Jackson Hunt's unwavering gaze.
"They're young, I'll grant you that, but fully qualified," she answered.
"Agent Castle is the only logical option, Assistant Deputy Director," Jackson Hunt said. "I know it. You know it. And when informed of the situation, he'll agree. All you lack is the will to act on it."
Grayson narrowed her eyes, clearly displeased with his last statement. Danberg waited silently, wisely choosing to stay clear, least he become collateral damage.
"We have a long history of employing independent contractors. So, I have no issues with seeking assistance outside the Agency, if needed, be it from Rick Castle or elsewhere," she said, standing her ground, "but I won't disrupt his life simply because you want to pull a power move over your son."
The only outward sign of emotion from the legendary agent was a slight flaring of his nostrils. "You're making a mistake, Assistant Deputy Director."
The way he said it almost made it sound like a threat. Danberg was most impressed by Grayson's firm resolve when meeting with the unstoppable force that was Jackson Hunt. It did a lot to raise her esteem in his eyes.
"Then it's my mistake to make," Grayson said. "Now, if you excuse us, Mr. Hunt, Danberg and I have a lot of work to do before tomorrow's operation."