Private Eyes 4: Extreme Ways
Chapter 4
"Is the drop still happening in Lisbon?"
Danberg arched his neck up and watched as Deputy Section Chief Grisham pushed into the Operations Center from the side door. A female tech with shoulder length dark hair answered in the affirmative, and Grisham stalked around the room to lurk behind her station. Squinting in the dim lighting, Danberg peered across the room towards the side door that led to a small adjacent conference room, waiting to see if ADD Pamela Grayson would emerge as well. When she didn't, he let his gaze drift back to the Deputy.
"Attention!" Grisham called out to the Operations Center at large. "We have a go on the Lisbon drop. Lawson and Rahimi are on site." He picked up a wireless headset. "I need comms on headset 5."
"Done," confirmed another computer tech.
As Grisham communicated with the agents on the ground in Lisbon, Danberg pulled his phone out his pocket to check the time. It was approaching 7 AM, which meant it was almost 1 PM in Paris. He strolled over to Vikram Singh's station.
"Sir," the computer tech nodded in greeting, stifling a yawn.
"You get any sleep?" Danberg asked, raising an eyebrow.
Vikram shook his head as he reached for the cup of coffee on his desktop. "Too much to review."
"I'll need you alert for this Op."
"Don't worry, I'm used to long hours, but I promise to take a power nap afterwards."
Danberg patted his shoulder, now seeing the potential Castle had seen in the young analyst. "Good. Now… how are Gibson and Parker doing?"
"Thoroughly briefed on the operation parameters, strictly observe and report," Vikram nodded. "And if I'm calculating the time difference correctly, then they should have been seated ten or fifteen minutes ago. Just waiting for them to check in."
The door to the conference room opened and ADD Pamela Grayson entered, the tall frame of Jackson Hunt looming behind her.
Grisham twisted around. "Lisbon operation underway, ma'am," he reported. "Lawson and Rahimi have eyes on the target, just waiting for your command."
Grayson's eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she glanced over at the third flatscreen, which had an overlay of the Lisbon mission.
"You have a go," she said, and Grisham issued the orders.
Jackson Hunt, features set in a grim line, stalked around the room to join Danberg as Grayson and Grisham observed the apprehension of the Lisbon target.
"A waste of time, if you ask me," the older man muttered under his breath.
Danberg cast a sidelong glance at the senior agent. He'd read the same dossier on the drop site in Lisbon, and would agree with that assessment. The target was a low-level courier, at best, and probably wasn't trusted with any sensitive information. At the very least, they'd get their hands on the briefcase and, after some cracking, the contents within.
"Grayson tells me you assigned Parker and Gibson to the Paris operation," Hunt said, clearly disapproving.
"Wes Parker and Kelly Gibson. Yes," Danberg nodded, frowning at the older man's tone. "Why do you ask?"
"Gibson," Hunt grunted, shaking his head. "She was part of the team that lost Markov. Sloppy." He shifted his weight on his feet and slipped his hands into his pockets. "She shouldn't be in the field after a mistake like that."
"She wasn't the only officer there when Markov was extracted," Danberg reminded him.
"True," Hunt conceded. "But she was the officer in charge."
"She'll be fine," Danberg assured. "This assignment is strictly observe and report." He narrowed his eyes as he observed the older man's demeanor. Jackson Hunt was up to something. He could sense that. But what that was, he couldn't say.
From across the room, Grayson detached herself from Grisham and marched around the computer banks to join Danberg and Hunt. She pointedly ignored both of them and spoke directly to Vikram Singh.
"I need an update on the Paris operation," she ordered.
Vikram gave a brisk nod and tapped away at his keyboard, sending off the update request to Gibson and Parker.
XXX
"This is lovely," Kate commented, craning her neck as she gazed out at the spectacular panoramic view of the city of Paris, marred only by the cast iron framework of the Eiffel Tower. "This view alone is worth it."
"I could stare at it all day."
Kate dragged her eyes away from the amazing sight spread out below, and found that Castle was staring at her. She bit her lower lip and shook her head, feeling a slight blush creep up her cheeks. Arching an eyebrow, she fixed him with a challenging look.
"Flattery won't get you everything, Rick."
He ducked his head down. "Perhaps, but it doesn't hurt."
"No," she conceded with a small smile. "It doesn't."
Tilting his chin back up, he locked eyes with her, and a sizzling moment was shared between them, one of those precious moments that only ever seemed to happen with him, where a second turned into forever. Whole conversations were had. Hopes, feelings, dreams shared. It was almost indescribable.
And then it broke.
Castle's archaic looking cellphone buzzed from where it was nestled in his inside pocket. Knitting his eyebrows together, he retrieved the offending device and flipped it open.
"What is it?"
"Hunt," he answered with a grimace.
"What does he say?"
"Just reminding me that he'll pay the bill and to enjoy ourselves," Castle summarized, not bothering to hide the distrust in his voice.
"You should thank him," Kate suggested. "It's the least you could do."
Castle shrugged, but shifted in his seat, adjusting his hold on his phone, squinting slightly as he tapped out a quick reply.
While he did so, Kate leaned back and craned her neck, glancing around the interior of Le Jules Verne. They had been seated along the windows, a prime spot, to be sure, which not only provided them with an amazing view of the city below—she could spot the Arc de Triomphe in the distance—but also allowed them to observe the other diners.
They were both people watchers.
An occupational hazard, for both of them.
She turned her eyes to Castle, milking in the sight of him looking so very dashing in his suit and tie, blue—to bring out his eyes. She'd teased him earlier, while they were dressing after their little romp in the shower, about him donning a tux to look like James Bond. He'd indulged her teasing by pretending to seriously contemplate the suggestion. They had shared a good laugh over that.
Kate had opted to go with a familiar Philosophy di Alberta Ferretti gray shift dress, with an elegantly embroidered waist. She'd previously worn it to Kevin Ryan's wedding. It was the only appropriate dress for this kind of restaurant that she'd brought along on their honeymoon. She'd had plans to dress shop later—she was in Paris, after all—but Castle's father had sprung this wedding present on them so suddenly that this was the best she could do at short notice, and it seemed to work just fine. Castle had loved it back then, and he loved it now, judging from the way his eyes had darkened when she'd first stepped out of the bedroom to join him in their honeymoon suite's sitting room.
"Should we order?" she asked when he finished, pocketing his phone, but soon furrowed her brow. "What's wrong?"
Castle scrubbed a hand down his face. "I'm sorry, I just… I can't shake this feeling that Hunt has ulterior motives. I never really trusted the man, long before I even knew he was my father."
Kate swallowed, heart aching for her husband. He had been so reluctant earlier, but she'd convinced him to give his father the benefit of the doubt. Maybe that had been a mistake.
Meanwhile, Castle was scanning the room with his well-trained eyes. The restaurant opened up into a large sitting area beyond. The space around them wasn't that full, but that would change as the lunch crowd started to come in.
"I could just be a little paranoid," he conceded with a sigh.
She reached across the table and took his hand. His eyes jerked up to hers.
"We can leave if you want," Kate offered without a second thought. If accepting this wedding gift from his father made him uncomfortable, then Kate was perfectly fine giving up their reservation and having lunch somewhere else. All she really needed to enjoy herself and have fun was to be with Castle.
The location didn't matter. Only him.
"That's nice of you to offer, Kate," he squeezed her hand in return, gazing at her adoringly, like she was the single brightest thing in his life. "But I'm fine. You—sorry—we deserve this. Now… how about I order us that expensive bottle of wine." And with that said, Castle raised his free hand and signaled for the waiter.
XXX
The target was late.
Leaning casually back in her chair as she sipped her wine, Elena Markov cast her gaze across the elegant dining area. The tables were beginning to fill up with patrons. She blended in easily with the rest, dressed in a fashionable black dress, the short skirt, while showing off her long legs, also provided her with an ease of movement that another dress would hinder.
An attractive waiter approached with her order, and she briefly glanced up to offer an appreciative smile as he placed the plate in front of her. He bowed slightly and went on his way, and Elena allowed herself the luxury of a momentary ogle of the fine masculine specimen.
And that's when she saw them.
They were unmistakable.
Two familiar faces she had never expected to see again, let alone in Paris.
She studied the pair seated at a table situated by the windows that looked down onto the city below. The two were talking softly as they tasted their respective meals, even sharing a bite or two of the other's dish with each other, seemingly oblivious to being observed from across the room.
Elena absently rubbed a hand along the lower right side of her abdomen, when the smiling woman laughed at something her companion said.
Kate Beckett.
She held no malice towards the detective. None of it had been personal. It had just been a job. If anything, she held a grudging respect for the woman who had managed to best her.
Just the once, she told herself.
Squinting, Elena observed the couple, noting the slight change in body language between them, very subtle, but just enough for someone with her training and experience to notice. A tight smile touched her lips as she spotted the matching rings.
So… they married. Good for them.
She wetted her lips as she took a long sip of her wine, relishing the rich flavors and slight burn as she swallowed.
This assignment had just got a little more interesting.
XXX
"Babe, you have got to try this!" Kate insisted, forking a piece of roasted lamb, dripping in jus gras, and holding it up to offer him.
Smiling at her, Castle leaned forward and opened his mouth. Kate pressed her lips together to suppress a grin as she fed him off her plate. She watched, in rapt anticipation, as he closed his lips and chewed slowly.
"Well?"
He hummed, and nodded. "Very flavorful."
"I know, right," Kate enthused.
"Wanna try the sea bass?" Castle asked.
"Yes, please!"
She was just leaning over to accept a forkful when she caught a glimpse of someone familiar sitting on the other side of the room. But before she could mention it, her mouth was full of deliciousness. It was the best sea bass she'd ever had. She stifled a moan as she savored the mouthful, before swallowing.
"Good, isn't it?" Castle flashed her a wink.
Kate beamed at him, having a great time. She picked up her fork and knife, and worked at cutting up more of her succulent lamb meal. Castle grinned at her and brought his wine glass up to his mouth, but paused, his eyes darting over as an older man with silvery gray hair strolled past them, heading three tables over, where a man in a navy suit waited. The two exchanged greetings before the older gentleman sat down.
"Babe?" Kate inquired, confused by her husband's interest.
"The other man at the table," Castle said, narrowing his eyes.
"Yeah?"
"He… looks familiar."
"Please tell me he's not Consortium?"
"No. Not that," Castle shook his head. "I… can't quite place him. But there's something familiar about him."
XXX
She lowered her wine glass.
He was here. Finally.
André Perrault appeared just as he had in his photo: Mid-50s with a mane of silvery gray hair and a thin black mustache above his upper lip. He wore an expensive suit, and strolled with confidence towards a table not far from her, nodding his head to an athletic man with dark hair already seated. She narrowed her eyes, watching as the two men exchanged pleasantries.
Not yet. Elena reminded herself. Her employer wanted more than a man killed.
XXX
"Gibson just sent another update," Vikram announced.
Danberg stepped away from Agent Hunt and moved to join ADD Pamela Grayson by the computer terminals. Arching his neck, he glanced down at the small screen to see what Vikram was referring to.
"What is it?" Grayson asked, folding her arms across her chest as he did the same, glancing over the tech analyst's shoulder to see.
"Photos of Perrault meeting with a man," Vikram said as he downloaded a batch of photos taken from Gibson's company issued phone. "Hold." He tapped furiously on his keyboard. "Enhancing."
"On the wall screen," Grayson ordered with a snap of her fingers. "And run facial rec."
"Already on it," Vikram replied, brows lowering in concentration.
Danberg tilted his head up to watch as one of the large monitors flickered on to show a blown up and enhanced image of the man seated across from André Perrault. He squinted at the image. Broad shouldered and athletic, with jet black hair combed back from a high brow, and piercing blue eyes.
But it wasn't Perrault's contact that caught Danberg's attention.
"Wait," he moved over to the wall screen and pointed. "Vikram, zoom back and center in on the background." He glanced back, urgent.
Vikram was looking up at Grayson for instruction.
"Do it," she ordered.
The tech analyst tapped away on his keyboard and the image pulled back to show the whole table.
"There!" Danberg jabbed his finger into the center of the screen. "That couple, sitting by the window. Can you enlarge and enhance?"
"Just a second," Vikram ducked his head down and moved the mouse, opening up another program.
"What are you thinking?" Grayson questioned.
Danberg didn't answer immediately. He glanced up at the slowly sharpening image and then looked over at Hunt before directing his gaze towards his boss.
"It's Castle and Beckett!" Vikram exclaimed before he could speak.
"What!?" Grayson whirled around, shocked.
Danberg, however, locked in on Jackson Hunt.
"Sir?" he asked with a strained voice. "What did you do?"
Grayson paused on her way over to Vikram's station and turned again, arching an eyebrow as she stared at the senior agent.
The older man narrowed his eyes. "I told you, Assistant Deputy Director," he said, though his gaze remained pinpointed on Danberg. "Agent Castle was the only logical option." He then shifted to meet Grayson's glare. "I did what you couldn't."
"You reactivated Castle?" Danberg asked before Grayson could.
"No," Hunt grunted, clearly annoyed. "I don't have that authority." His tone implied he believed he should. "I… simply gave my son a wedding gift."
"You bastard," Danberg ground out, clenching his hand into a fist. "You sent your own son into a situation without all the information to what… prove a point?"
"Even with that woman by his side, he's still better equipped than Gibson and Parker," Hunt asserted. And damn it to hell, the man actually seemed to believe that.
Danberg shook his head. Out of all the things that Hunt could have done… what little respect he'd once had for the legendary agent just evaporated.
"That woman is his wife," he said pointedly, glaring at the older man. "They are on their honeymoon. And they have no idea what sort of danger you've just sent them into."
Hunt simply shrugged, like it was no big deal. "Castle is well-trained. Better than the two already on site. If a problem arises, he'll be able to handle himself. With Elena Markov in the game, we needed the best in the field, so I made sure we did."
"So what? You called an audible?"
Hunt actually cracked a smug grin. "If you like, yes."
Danberg opened his mouth, but before he could offer further rebuke, Grayson held up a hand to silence him. She stepped between them and pointed at Hunt.
"Enough," she instructed.
It was then that Danberg realized all eyes were on them, even Emmett Grisham, who looked peeved to have his Lisbon operation interrupted. He jerked his eyes back to Grayson, watching as the woman straightened her back and took a deep breath.
"While I disapprove of your actions, Agent Hunt," she said, "I can see the logic."
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He moved forward, but Grayson stopped him with a look.
"And I understand your anger," she told him. "But what's done is done. We can't change it. Castle and… what was her name?"
"Kate Beckett, ma'am," Vikram interjected.
"Yes," she nodded. "Castle and Kate Beckett are there. And we'll just have to trust Mr. Castle to do the right thing."
"Which is?" Danberg asked.
"Hopefully stay out of the way and let Gibson and Parker deal with it, if need be," Grayson said with a tight smile. Danberg couldn't get a read on her, which irritated him. He couldn't tell if she was angry or not. "However, as I said earlier, I wouldn't mind some extra manpower. So, if Mr. Castle were to… intervene, I wouldn't complain."
"Ma'am," Danberg objected.
She held up a hand. "End of discussion."
"Shouldn't we warn him," he went on, regardless.
Grayson knitted her eyebrows together in thought. And it unnerved him to no end that she exchanged a look with Jackson Hunt as she did so. The senior agent remained as stoic and unreadable as ever.
She heaved out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Danberg, but I can't authorize that, at least not yet," she said with an apologetic look when he was about to protest. "As you've made so abundantly clear, Mr. Castle is on his honeymoon. And he's retired. He is no longer a member of this organization. He doesn't have clearance." She exchanged another glance with Hunt. "And despite Agent Hunt's worries, I don't think Elena Markov would try anything so brazen in such a public setting. All previous assassinations linked to her were made to look like accidents or suicides."
Danberg really didn't like this. Oh, how he missed Samson York.
"The decision's been made," she said, challenging him with a look, though at least she appeared a tad bit sympathetic. "If you must, you can file a complaint."
"I will," he grumbled, glaring daggers at Hunt.
The senior agent met his stare unflinchingly, standing like a stone statue, unfazed.
Grayson was already moving on. "Vikram, please alert Gibson and Parker to the latest development. We don't need them panicking in the middle of the operation when they spot a former colleague."
The young analyst glanced at Danberg briefly, as if for instruction, before thinking better of it, and turned away with a nod of his head. "Yes, ma'am, right away."
XXX
Castle was trying to enjoy his food, but he was distracted. He kept sneaking glances over at the two men seated three tables over. The younger of the two, the one in the navy suit and jet-black hair was so familiar. He wished he could remember where he'd seen that face before.
"If not Consortium, then perhaps from the CIA?" Kate offered, picking at her roasted lamb.
And then it clicked.
"That's it!"
"What?"
His eyes snapped up to meet hers, before sliding back across the room, pretending like he was just taking it all in. "I hadn't seen him in years."
"Who?"
"John Mason," Castle turned back to her, keeping his voice low. "MI6."
"As in British intelligence?"
He nodded and frowned. "What's he doing here?"
Kate took another bite of her lamb. "Maybe he's on vacation," she chuckled softly.
Castle shook his head. Oh, how he wished she were right. But something about this whole situation didn't feel right. It never had. He silently cursed. He should have listened to his gut. But—damn it—he really had wanted to give his father the benefit of the doubt.
God, he was such a fool. He should have known better. He should never had trusted the old bastard.
"Babe."
Perhaps he'd been wrong to just up and quit when things were just getting started. Kilmer had been taken out, yes, but there was still the herculean task of dismantling the Consortium. Who knows how far their reach went within the various world governments? Sir Rhys Pearce had been part of the Consortium, so they had managed to infiltrate the British Foreign Office. If they could do that, just how much higher up could they go?
"Castle!" Kate hissed in a soft voice, gently tapping his shin under the table.
"Huh?" he jerked his eyes up to meet hers.
Kate tilted her chin slightly towards the other tables.
Falling back into his training, Castle quirked his lips up, as if she'd said something amusing, and reached over to pat her hand, silently thanking her for pulling him out of his troubled ruminations. She acknowledged the gratitude with a small smile.
Castle made a silent vow. Jackson Hunt was going to pay for this deception. Not only did he lie and manipulate him—them—into this situation, he also sent them into it blind, without any warning. Castle could handle himself, and while his wife was no delicate flower—she could mix it up with the best of them—the situation was entirely too volatile and unpredictable. And placing Kate in the path of danger was something Castle could never forgive and forget.
Rick Castle would do whatever he had to in order to protect Kate Beckett.
Pulling his hand back, he scratched at his neck in an absent manner, using the movement to shift his gaze towards the two men.
Something was wrong. The silver haired man appeared agitated. MI6 Agent John Mason was trying to calm him down, least he made a scene. Finally, the older man seemed to settle, reaching for a glass of water. Now calmer, he reached for his inside jacket pocket. And Castle suddenly realized what he was witnessing.
"It's an exchange," he whispered to Kate.
"Really?" her voice held a note of intrigue.
He met her eyes with a flash of unspoken warning. Something wasn't right. Kate received his silent signal and her detective face fell into place.
Castle adjusted his position, just enough so that he glimpsed a black USB flash drive. His pulse quickened and he caught a surprised taste of the thrill he once felt when on assignment. Oh, that was new. He hadn't realized it until now, but he actually missed it.
Odd.
"Their making an exchange right now," he narrated to Kate.
"Yes, I can see that," she murmured back. "I have eyes."
He stifled a chuckle. God, he loved her.
Castle briefly considered taking out his TCD-74 and snapping a few photos of the exchange for Danberg. Even if he resented Jackson Hunt placing them in this position, he still thought that perhaps the Agency might be interested in acquiring whatever might be on that USB drive. But then he thought against it. He was retired, besides, if the CIA was really interested in whatever John Mason was up to, then they'd have people on site to observe.
The thought pulled him up short.
He blinked, darting his eyes around the dining area, testing out his hypothesis. The CIA had to have someone here to observe this. And if that were true, then why had Jackson Hunt manipulated Castle into this when all that seemed to be happening was a simple information exchange between an MI6 operative and—
That was when, as if by chance, Castle spotted another familiar face from across the room.
A curse escaped his lips when their eyes met.
And then everything went sideways.