The Other Path Chapter 95

With her phone to her ear, Gate's lips compress to a thin line as she listens to Kate's account of her experience with Mark Fallon. "I went through Roy Montgomery's reports," the captain responds, "but they didn't get into much detail about working with the DHS."

"I understand. Roy was up to his neck trying to coordinate the search. He never personally saw what Fallon did in the interrogations I described," Kate explains. "And the DHS confiscated the video. But I'm telling you what happened, Captain."

"You neglected to mention that Mr. Castle defused the bomb," Gates points out. "That fact was in Montgomery's report."

"Rick knows he got lucky. We all got lucky. But if Fallon had listened in the first place, things never would have gotten that far. Rick and I would have had back up at the warehouse where the bomb was stashed and we would have been able to recover it there and then."

"And the two of you would have avoided almost freezing to death. That was also in Montgomery's report."

"Yes, Sir."

"I'll be reviewing the video, but assuming that what Detective Medina told me is accurate, what would you suggest I do about Agent Fallon? His assignment as liaison to the NYPD comes from way upstairs. I don't have the authority to ban him from the precinct."

"Wait, a second, Sir. Rick has an idea."

"Mr. Castle?" Gates inquires, skepticism edging her voice as Rick joins the call.

"When Kate and I finally got Fallon on board the last time, we did it using an outside source of information, one which he initially refused to accept. But he got to the point where he was so desperate, that he had to give in. Even then, he almost blew it. The man has to beat on someone. He can't help it."

"What are you getting at, Mr. Castle?"

"Give him someone who's even meaner than he is, someone who supports white supremacy and gets away with it every day."

"Babe, you've lost me too," Kate admits. "Who?"

"Congressman Cruk. He doesn't need tattoos or a tiki torch. He can wear Brooks Brothers while he spews venom on the floor of the House and there's nothing anyone can do to stop him. But he loves to portray himself as an expert in racial equity matters. Why not invite him in for 'insight.' He can talk the ears off Fallon while everyone else gets some work done. And if Fallon goes off on Cruk, he'll be up to his ears in alligators with his own agency. Cruk is on the committee that funds DHS."

"Just how do we get Cruk in here, Mr. Castle?" Gates questions.

"Same way you get an ass like him anywhere: appeal to his ego. You need his help to get to the true culprits in the bombing before it's too late. And I happen to know Cruk's in town. I was talking to Jimmy Kimmel this morning, comparing sleepless fatherhood stories. He told me his people turned Cruk down for an appearance on his show."

"Using Cruk is pretty underhanded, Mr. Castle," Gates notes. "But in this case, may be what's called for. I'll go through the PR office at 1PP and see what I can do."

"Do you really think that's going to work, Babe?" Kate queries, tucking her cell back in her pocket.

"Cruk was one of the little tin assholes I studied for my GAN. And if it takes off, he may be a figure in my next book. The man sees himself as leading the salvation of his race. So yeah, I think it will work. And if not, Gates will be pissed off at me, which would be nothing new. I may have to hunt down another of those ugly dolls."

Kate gags. "Just don't get anything like that for Miv."


From a roof a mile from the ravaged Dinkins building, Winston Mayweather uses a high-powered scope to survey the results of his work. He smiles in satisfaction. A half-collapsed building has an even greater impact than one that's crumbled completely to the ground. The wreck is a continual reminder of the destruction. He wishes The Ledger published his manifesto explaining it all, but the truth will out. The turncoats that are supposed to be protecting this country can't keep it under wraps forever.

Winston gazes at Manhattan's concrete vista. He's always loved buildings. While the other kids obsessed over action figures or video games, he wanted nothing more than construction sets, moving through the most complex Lego arrangements to creating model structures from whatever materials he could get his hands on. When he did sit in front of a keyboard, he immersed himself in computer-aided drafting. Back then, Winston had a plan for his life. He'd take all the hard classes, upper-level math, physics, whatever it took to get into the architecture program at Cornell. From there, he'd launch his career to design the most amazing buildings the world had ever seen.

Then Cornell rejected his application. But that f***ing Jamal Green got in. Everyone always fussed over Jamal, how the boy from the South Bronx got into an elite high school and excelled. Winston believed he was every bit as good as Jamal. They took the same classes. As far as Winston knew, they got about the same grades. Jamal didn't seem any smarter. But he had an edge, an edge Winston was sure Jamal didn't deserve. So, Jamal went on to study architecture at Cornell, and Winston got stuck at a state school.

Things were no better when Winston graduated. The best firms wanted nothing to do with him. They sought out other Jamals. But then Brinkerman and Sons hired Winston. Mr. Brinkerman understood where Winston was coming from, and the unfair stumbling blocks in his way. Brinkerman took Winston to a meeting where he met the other victims of the system. From that night, Winston knew where he belonged. And month by month he came to understand what he should do.


Congressman Neelan Cruk regards Agent Mark Fallon with a tad of suspicion. The man's coloring is a shade too dark for his taste. Well, that could be why Fallon doesn't understand the hearts of men trying to regain their rightful places. Cruk can teach Fallon the proper respect and clue him in on what a person in his position should know. It may take a while, but Neelan has time. The first interview his people could engineer isn't until seven that evening. And it's on the radio. The congressman won't even have to worry about makeup.

Fallon leads the way to the conference room he's commandeered as his base of operations. Cruk settles himself at the head of the table. "Agent Fallon, I've been told that you have trouble understanding white men defending their homeland."

Fallon swallows against the rage constricting his airway. "Congressman, Homeland Security doesn't see blowing up a building and killing innocent people as defending the homeland. We see it as a terrorist act. It's my job to catch terrorists. The only thing I need to understand is how to track them down before they strike again."

Cruk noisily clears his throat. "You've mistaken my intentions, Agent Fallon. The reason I'm here is that I understand the oppression that leads otherwise fine young men to desperate measures. I imagine you officers of the law would call that profiling."

"We profile so we can get ahead of these guys, Congressman. If you can help with that, I'd be grateful."

Cruk forces his face to maintain his politician's smile. "I'll give it a try."