American Crime Stories

Arc three, Chapter twenty seven

At 9:05 a big black SUV and a black BMW pulled into the underground parking lot of the FBI office. Since it was their first official day working together at the FBI, they had decided to drive in two separate cars. They didn't know their schedule, but knew that as SAC, Jordan would have to attend several meeting and would be less flexible with her time.

"Well, that was fun. It's the first time I parked here in the personal spaces," Castle said, waiting for Shaw to get her things. He was wearing a black three button suit, a white shirt, a red tie and black Italian leather shoes Abby had selected for him and brought over a few days before. He also had dark sunglasses tucked into his jacket pocket. All in all, he looked like the stereotypical FBI Agent. When Jordan had first seen him earlier this morning, she had done a double take and then let out a deep laugh. His eyes had shone with mirth, so she had known that he had selected his clothes for exact that reason.

"You've been here before?" Jordan asked.

"Haven't I told you that?" Jordan shook her head.

"Well, I've been here multiple times, for official tours and interviews for my books."

"Maybe you can tell me more about it later at dinner?"

"Sure, no problem, Jordan. There is no reason not to, I simply forgot."
"Okay. So now that were in the building we have to keep things professional, Castle."

"I know that. Otherwise I'd tell you that those shoes are doing really nice things to your insanely hot legs, Special Agent-in-Charge Shaw." Rick said watching her step onto the elevator in front of him.

"That was your one and only joke, Castle. You know people will be watching us, not only because of the official start of the VCTF, but even more so because of our relationship. Let's not get a strike on your first day," Shaw said a little heated.

"Relax, Jordan. I know that. I know that all eyes will be on the VCTF for a time, especially on us. And more so on me, the writer turned consultant. I know how to behave, Jordan." Castle said, not faced with her tone. He knew that Jordan was a bit nervous and self-conscious for obvious reasons.

Before they went to inspect their new offices, they had to go to HR, as Castle had to sign forms and wavers. He had a lot of papers to sign.

"And lastly we have the form that says you are taking possession of this ID badge that makes you a consultant," the HR office drone told him as she opened up her desk drawer and pulled out a plastic card with his picture on it. Castle signed the form and she handed it to him. Castle took out his ID holder from his inside jacket pocket and slid it in to the window. He looked at his badge, cracked the biggest smile and turned to Shaw.

"It's now official, Castle. You're now a Consultant with the FBI," she told him proudly. "Let me be the first to congratulate you, Consultant Castle," Jordan said as she stood up to shake his hand. Minding the drone, Rick had to fight hard to not pull Jordan into a hug.

A few minutes later, Castle stepped off the elevator of the fourth floor, where their new offices were stationed. He spotted Ryan and walked over to him. "Hey, Ryan," he simply greeted him.

"Hey, Castle," Ryan greeted back, smiling at Castle's attire. "Very stereotypical of you, Castle."

"Well, thank you. You look very professional, too. As always. Where is Esposito?"

"I think he's still with HR." Castle nodded. "Where is Agent Shaw?"

"Oh, she went to visit her old boss. She will be here in a few minutes. You're excited?"

"Yeah. I'm glad that Jenny told me to go for it."

"Me, too."

"I'm looking forward to working cases with you and Espo again. I really missed it the last couple of months."

Castle heard the elevator ding and looked up, hoping to see Jordan so they could start working, but it wasn't her.

"Speaking of the devil. Hey Espo."

"Hey bro, looking good," Esposito said smiling.

"Thanks," Castle replied grinning.

"Castle, do you know anything about our fifth member of the team?" Ryan asked.

Castle nodded. Her name is Kim Fischer. She is 32 years old Agent from Dallas. She was one of the five agents from Bailey's list. As far as I can see, she is very driven, excelling in everything she does. Academic scholarship, top of her college class, top of her class at the Academy. She is experienced enough that she won't have any problems working with us, but still young enough to smooth out some of her rough edges."

"Sound interesting," Ryan said.

"Yes, on paper she will be a good fit. But first, I will have to show her that I am here on my own merits, not my celebrity status or relationship."

"You have to do that to a lot of people, bro."

"Yeah, I know, Esposito. And it's honestly not too big of a problem for me, especially concerning the other agents. However, I do have to win Agent Fischer over. We will have to trust each other after all."

They heard the elevator ding and turned around. They saw Shaw and another woman walk out.

"Alright, here they are guys. Let's get the show on the road," Castle said to his friends.

As they had thought, Jordan had to attend a few meetings in her role as SAC. Castle used the time to visit Ken Carpenter, SAC of the FBI Major Crimes Unit in New York. He had told Jordan that he was looking forward to speaking with Carpenter, the man he had called a living legend at their first meeting. Jordan had made fun of their 'mutual admiration society' until Castle had reminded her of her reaction meeting Sam Waters. That had silenced Jordan real fast.

He knocked and entered the office. Seeing Carpenter, Rick recalled what he had thought of his first impression. He really looks a lot like Kris Kringle.

"Rick, I heard that you would be in the office today. It's nice to see you, again. Jordan still busy?"

"Hello Ken, it's good to meet you, too. Yeah, Jordan is still in meetings and will remain so for a while. I thought I would visit before I go home."

"Yeah, bureaucracy, it's every agents bane, and it gets worse when you climb through the ranks. And with you all now starting a new Task Force, it's understandable that there would be some meetings."

"We figured, that's why we took separate cars."

"Smart. Speaking of the Task Force. Do you really think that you have what it takes to work with the FBI? No offence, while I know that you shadowed the NYPD, working with the FBI is still different. And unlike the other agents, you haven't attended the FBI Academy or FLETC. And they didn't have the luck to have their girlfriend as direct supervisor." Rick didn't mind the question, as Ken's tone wasn't accusing, but actually curious about his opinion. He didn't like the dig at Jordan, but again, it wasn't said maliciously.

"I am sure that you have checked my file, the official and the unofficial one, and spoken to some contacts. So you must know that I have some experiences that aren't limited to shadowing cops. Also, I could refer to the fact that it was the Deputy Director himself who recruited me, not my girlfriend. But you know all this, so what is it you really want to know?"

"Yeah, I've spoken to some people. Just to satisfy my curiosity. Are you up for a little test?"

"What kind of test?"

Ken smiled and picked up three files off his desk. "All of these deaths were labeled suicides. You have ten minutes to tell me which one of these was a murder and which one real suicide."

Not seeing a problem with it, Castle nodded. "Sure, why not? Sounds like fun," he said. "Just to make sure that I understand you correctly. You're saying that one of these was a murder?"

"No, they could all be a murder or suicide."

"Alright." Rick took the files and opened them. He took a look around the office. As he couldn't see any open work space, he decided to use the floor. He spread out the various crime scene photos and then sat down in front of them. Then he began to read through the police reports in his hand. For the next few minutes Rick checked the reports and studied every photo. At just under the six minute mark, Rick repacked the files, stood up and walked to a Ken who had observed Castle silently. "There was one murder case. Cordelia Chase, age 36. Found in her apartment with a GSW to the right temple and a .22 caliber gun in her hand," Castle said handing Ken the files.

"How so?" Ken asked, not giving away anything.

"Aside from the fact that woman almost never use a gun to kill themselves, you mean? I could have used process of elimination because the other two are textbook cases of suicide, but I didn't need to do that. There are about ten things wrong with that particular crime scene. The fact that the gun is still in her hand was the biggest tip off," Castle explained his reasoning.

"Why?"

"In the case of a self-inflicted GSW, the gun falls out of the hand as it goes limp. However, the most glaring mistake the killer made was the placement of the GSW."

"What do you mean?"

"She was shot on the right side of her head. However, the crime scene photos clearly point to the fact that Chase had been left-handed. Look at the desk in front of her, everything is set up on the left side. She even has a watch on her right wrist," Rick explained.

"Very good, Rick," Ken said clapping his hands. "That was very good reasoning. You just passed the test I used to give all of new agents trainees."

"How many of those agents failed that test?" Rick asked interested.

"You would be shocked," Ken simply replied. "By the way, it was her ex-husband Alexander who did it."

"Thanks for telling me."

"So Rick, let's talk a bit more about your time with the NYPD."

Two days later, Castle, Ryan and Esposito and their colleague Kim Fischer were talking about the men's upcoming weapons certification.

"You know, Castle, Shaw told us that you were a pretty good shot. That you even out shot her. I'm not sure whether to believe her or not," Fischer told him.

"Why, because I'm not a cop or fed, but a simple writer?" Castle asked.

"I mean no offence, but you do lack the official training."

"I know. Anyway, let's go and kill some paper targets," Castle said with obvious glee in his voice, not caring too much that his new colleague still was a bit reserved. However, she had acknowledged that Castle had been recruited as a Consultant by the Deputy Director for a reason. As she knew that the VCTF was the man's pet project, he wouldn't risk it or his people for a friend. So, she had decided to give the writer a chance. Seeing that the other men were about to get the weapons certification, she wanted to see first-hand whether he could protect himself and, more importantly, her out in the field. "You boys mind if I accompany you?"

Ryan and Esposito looked at Rick. They had no doubt that they would get certified, they were sure in their abilities. However, despite Castle claims that he was a good shot, they didn't know whether he'd like an audience, should he fail to qualify.

"Sure, why not?" Castle said without hesitation. He didn't mind the audience and could guess and understand Fischer's interest in watching him.

Grabbing their gear, they walked into the shooting range. They walked up to the attending firing range supervisor, a short Hispanic man dressed in black cargo pants and a black t-shirt who introduced himself as Special Agent Victor Garza. He and two other agents were going to supervise the certification process, though he would be Castle's instructor.

"Take these and follow me." The guy said as he handed them their targets, earmuffs, and safety goggles.

"Have fun, guys," Castle told his friends as he stepped up to one of the lanes.

"Thanks, bro. Same." "Yeah, good luck, Castle."

Castle concentrated on his upcoming task.

"Mr. Castle, here is some ammunition for you to practice. Let me know when you want to begin your test."

"Alright, thanks." Rick unsnapped the hammer strap on his gun. He then picked up the ear muffs, put them on and looked at the target. He took a deep breath as he rested his hand on the butt of his gun. Then he draw the gun and open fire on the target. Garza and Fischer watched on from the side as Castle put on round after another in the bullseye.

"Wow," Fischer exclaimed, surprised and impressed.

"Yeah, not bad, especially as it is his warm up."

They watched as Castle put the gun down and brought the target back to him. He checked it, change the target and reloaded his gun. Once again, Castle emptied his gun in the target. Watching from a little afar, Fischer thought that he had done even better than the first time. Castle gave Agent Garza the signal that he was ready to undertake his assessment.

"Alright, Mr. Castle. Put the target on the holder and send it out to the red line," Garza ordered. Rick did as he was told and set his target up about half way down the range at twenty-six feet out. "When I tell you to, you will draw your service weapon and put ten rounds into the target as fast and as accurately as you can. You will then put the safety back on and holster your weapon. Do you understand the instructions I have just given you?"

"Yes, I do," Castle replied, took a deep breath as he rested his hand on the butt of his gun.

"Go!" The instructor ordered. Castle pulled his X-FIVE and took aim at the center of the target. Four seconds and ten rounds later, Castle put the safety back on and holstered his gun away. He then took off his ear muffs.

"Call the target back and step aside," Agent Garza said. Rick held down the button and the target glided back. He didn't look at the target as he just stepped aside to let Garza check.

"Of ten shots you put eight in the ten ring, and two in the nine ring. Your time was 4.6 seconds. That's better than a lot of other agents that have taken this test. Congratulations, you passed this test."

"Thanks."

"That was pretty impressive, Castle. Although, I'm not a bad shot, you did much better than I did the last time I took the test."

"Thanks, Fischer. I told you that I have been trained by some very skilled people."

"Alright, enough chit-chat. Follow me." Following Garza, Castle looked down to the other lanes, but couldn't see Ryan or Esposito.

A few minutes later, Garza explained the next part of the evaluation. "This, Mr. Castle, is the simulation room where we will assess your ability to shoot under duress. Today we're going to use the nightclub setting. You know, loud music, strobe and disco lights. In irregular lag of time, various targets will pop up, some of them will be perpetrators holding a weapon, and others will be civilians. You have to shoot the perpetrators as fast as you can. Do you understand the instructions?"

"Yes, Sir." Castle replied.

"Good, then prepare. We start on your signal." Castle nodded and calmly strapped on his vest. He had to be honest to himself and admit that he was feeling a bit nervous. Oh, it wasn't because of the assessment itself. He had done similar simulations multiple times over the years, and had followed Beckett and the guys when they had kicked down some doors. He could do this, he knew that for a fact. His nervousness stamped from the fact that he knew that people would check on this test even more than the first one. It was one thing, to shoot at a single unmoving target in a lane. It was a whole different ball-game when you had to assess the target and decide whether to shoot or not in a split-second. He knew that the team as whole would have to undergo various other assessments to make sure that they could function as a team.

Castle put those thoughts away, and concentrated on the task at hand. He took a deep breath, pulled his gun kicked down the door and shouted 'FBI DON'T MOVE' to start the simulation. Castle swiftly moved through the room, shooting at some targets, leaving alone some others. A few minutes later, Castle ran through the exit, and immediately put the safety catch on and holstered his gun. Feeling the rush, he really wanted to cry out in joy, but knew that he had to act professional. He made his way to the control booth, trying to get his breath under control.

"So, Agent Garza, how did I do?"

Garza checked the stats. "You completed the simulation in 6 minutes, 38 seconds. You did identify 27 out of 30 perpetrators, and missed only one shot. In turn, you did not shoot at one single civilian. You have passed the test with flying colors. Congratulations, Mr. Castle."

"Again, Castle. Very impressive, I'm sorry that I doubted you before," Fischer told him.

"There is nothing to apologize for, Kim. I'm sure that I'd be similar reluctant to work with an untrained consultant, if I were in your shoes. So, don't worry about that. I just hope that I can silence the doubts from other agents."

"I'm sure you will. Especially if you keep performing like that."

A few days later, the team started to undergo the fitness evaluation and Castle was so not looking forward to it. It wasn't that he thought he would fail, he knew that he was in good enough shape. He had known early on, that his 'job' as writer wouldn't help his health, as sitting around most of his time and his love for good food, fast food and sweets, wasn't a healthy lifestyle. So he had tried to stay fit as much as possible, first going to a fitness studio, when using the gym in his building multiple times the week. When he was younger, he had also worked out and sparred regularly with people from SSI. Sadly, he had started to neglect that more and more, especially after he had started to shadow Beckett. He just didn't have the time between writing, his consultation, his business endeavors and, most importantly making time for his family. So, he had limited his work out mostly to the gym. However, recognizing the negative effects on his fitness, he had started to focus his training when he stayed in the Hamptons in the summer. There he would work out with a personal trainer multiple times a week. It was something like boot camp. First, Gina had complained a lot, telling him he should spend more time writing and with her, but after a heated discussion – cough, cough -, she had remained silent. He had started to intensify his training after Beckett had been shot and had continued his fitness regime since then.

The reason he didn't look forward to the fitness evaluation was simple: he didn't much like those tests, especially the shuttle run. In fact, he hated those, mainly due to the fact that his personal trainer loved them and would torture Castle with them on a regular basis. Castle didn't mind the obstacle course so much. In fact, he had liked them in his younger years, but as he got older, the obstacles seemed to grow in height and difficulty.

Castle looked on at the obstacle course, the last fitness test. He had passed the shuttle run with an above average result. That was good enough for him. Castle looked at Jennifer Moss who was assessing his fitness evaluation. He had instantly disliked the woman as she was checking him out like he was a piece of meat. When Moss gave the signal, Castle started to run several yards, drag heavy weights 50 feet, jump about hurdles and ditches, climbed through a window and above a mesh fence, and a color bond fence, crawled beneath a wire fence on the ground through a small opening. A few minutes later, Castle was making his way across the monkey bars, the last obstacle of the very long course. He dropped down off the last bar and ran for the finish line. "Time!" Moss called as he crossed the line, dropping to the ground heaving for breath. "Not bad Castle, 4:11 on your first try," the tall blond in her mid-forties said. He couldn't wait to get away from that woman, as she was staring at him just a little too hard in his t-shirt and shorts.

"Thanks," Castle said. "Can you hand me the file, please? I really like to take a shower and change."

Moss glared at him for a moment and silently handed him his forms. Luckily for her, she had made no advances in any kind, otherwise he would have reported her immediately. What a piece of work, Castle thought as he made his way to the showers. He was glad that his fitness evaluation was done. All he had to do now was to get certified to drive a FBI issued car. That was going to be fun.