Flu

Chapter 109

The face staring from an image of Merlin Jasper's driver's license is disquieting but compelling. "It's terrible, but I've got a camp song Alexis learned, running through my head," Rick confesses. "Do your ears hang low? Do they wobble to and fro? Can you tie them in a knot? Can you tie them in a bow?" he sings. "It must be a defense mechanism against obsessing on what that monster did to those kids."

Kate shrugs. "Whatever works for you, Babe. The address on this is the apartment he left, so no help there. But we have a photo to distribute, and we have a confirmation on the car. With the additional information we've gathered, Chertov can request Jasper's financials. I'll make sure he copies us, but it could take a while to get them."

"We need to know where he gets his money," Rick muses. "He's not quite at retirement age, and anyway, Social Security would never cover the rent on the apartment he had. So, I'm guessing that he holds a job that doesn't hinge on meeting the public or has an independent income. Oh, do we have the video of his car?"

"Tori has it in Tech. Why?"

"Because," Rick explains, "I want to see if there's some indication of where he bought it or maybe where he keeps it. Dealers put their names on the license plate frames. And it might have a parking sticker. Either way, we could find a clue that we could chase down right now."

Kate reaches for his hand. "You're really on edge with this one, aren't you?"

"I guess. But I also want to keep my excuse for procrastination. If I'm not busy with the case, I need to go write, and I'm stuck."

"How are you stuck?"

"I want to do more with Rook's Victoria St. Clair alter ego, but I don't have a reality-based foundation for her, the way I do with Nikki. I've never written a romance novel. I'm not sure how to get into the head of a romance writer."

"You don't seem to have any trouble with Rook being an investigative reporter," Kate points out. "You're not one of those, either."

"Reporter, no. But I do plenty of investigation. Romance novels are a world unto themselves. They tend to be more formulaic than the stories I write. Boy meets girl or vice versa. They hate yet love each other at first sight. Before they can get together, they encounter a series of obstacles. At some point, one of them is convinced the other one loves someone else. Finally, they get the misunderstanding straightened out and live happily ever after. I don't have any problem with the obstacles part. I don't believe Rook would either. It's the other elements that stymie, or to be honest, bore me, and thus would pose a problem for Rook."

"So maybe Rook's books need a bit more Castle," Kate suggests. "There are whole series of romance novels that involve mysteries, your specialty. I, um, some of my girlfriends at school used to read them. The love story weaves in and out of solving the crime. You and I live that every day. With Rook pursuing Nikki, he'd be a lot like you and I were when you first started shadowing me. All Rook has to do is write about those adventures. And it would help if he describes all the clothes."

Rick chuckles. "Your girlfriends at school read the books. Right. But I believe that Kate Beckett, aka Nikki Heat, has solved Rook's aka Victoria St. Clair's dilemma. Mystery tightly entwined with romance will be Victoria's forte. And after being married to Meredith, I won't have any trouble describing the clothes. But I still think we should look at the video of the car."

"Yeah," Kate agrees. "I do too."

"No dealer promo on the license plate frame," Rick notes. "But what's that thing in the front window?"

"Tori, can you zoom in on that sticker?" Kate requests.

"We won't get decent resolution," Tori warns, "but here."

A fuzzy image expands on the screen. "What is that?" Kate wonders. "A bird? A bat?"

Rick stares at the shape. "That's an F-117, a stealth attack plane. It's the symbol of a web-based group, Cloaked, consultants who work for clients who want to keep their projects under wraps. I've heard some talk about it in spy-story writing circles. If I recall correctly, Cloaked has a headquarters not far from Chinatown, thus the parking sticker." Rick offers Kate his elbow. "Feel like a journey into the land of dragons, silk, and tourist traps?"

Kate hooks her arm into his. "I can do without the tourist traps, but I've always had a thing for dragons."

The nondescript building bears no identification except for the street number required by the fire department. A driveway leads to the entrance of an underground garage, with a wooden crossbar blocking access. Rick points to a small scanner aimed just behind the gate. "That must detect the stickers. That's why Merlin has one on his car, even if he's trying to stay incognito. It's a cool piece of irony. A stealth plane kept him from flying under the radar. We can't see the parked cars from here, and security will probably squawk if we try to duck under the bar. Do you think Merlin is upstairs right now?"

"There's only one way to find out," Kate replies, indicating a pedestrian entrance.

"But you're going to call for back up first, lots of back up," Castle presses. "There could be a dragon lurking behind the door, and I didn't bring my magic sword."

"Your magic sword only exists in Terra Quest."

"Which is why I didn't bring it. Kate, seriously, we don't know what we'll find in there."

Kate strokes his arm. "Chill out, Babe. I'm calling it in."

After a stringent, if remote, application process, members of Cloaked could choose between the privacy of a cubical or group interaction in a bullpen-like setting. From the start, Merlin has always preferred his cubicle. It isn't about the reaction to his appearance, or at least not entirely. Most of his co-workers grew up isolated enough not to care about standards of physical beauty. Merlin's always preferred his own company, even before his symptoms became apparent in a mirror, and never was comfortable standing around a coffee pot to discuss the big game. He couldn't care less what oversized idiots do with a ball.

Merlin loves to study the effects of obscure facts on human behavior. That bent enabled him to make a fair amount of money as a young man, when the only contact he needed to make on a regular basis was with his broker. Years before the first drugs were produced by enlisting simple bacterial genomes, he bought biotech stocks at bargain prices. He understood how essential lithium batteries would be when everyone still used bulkier cells. He also bought Apple when it bottomed out under early assaults by IBM.

Now, he digs up the nuggets that lead to paradigm shifts and sells his predictions. He isn't always right, but he strikes paydirt often enough to be one of Cloaked's chief assets. His one galling failure was attempting to build a company to serve his personal needs. It tanked after the first year. He's been managing nonetheless, but the squirrel population in his new neighborhood is getting thin. He brings up wildlife maps on his screen. If he needs to find another hunting ground, it should be a good one. So intent is he on his search that at first, he doesn't hear the unaccustomed footsteps coming his way. Merlin glances up much too late to avoid his visitors.