Poison Pen

Chapter 40

Bill's shuttle just makes it to the tarmac in J.F.K. before chaos hits the airport. A newly discovered flaw that leaves the navigation systems of many aircraft open to terrorist hacking has grounded most commercial international flights and many domestic ones as well. To complicate matters further, the collision of two weather systems is creating thick fog. It takes four hours for Bill to make it to the apartment he maintains in Manhattan, and he has to pay a hefty premium to hire the limo that got him there. There's no way he's going to be able to get to Elliott in this mess, but it's unlikely that Springer will be leaving the city, either.

"It's like something out of an over-staged version of Sherlock Holmes out there," Martha declares. "Can you believe that Broadway is considering going dark? That never happens. During a district power failure, the crew used generators to power floodlights, and performers went on with the show on the street. Now, the only way to get to the theater is by subway, if anyone can find the stations in this mess."

"Kate said that The N.Y.P.D. had to ask the city to close the streets to everything except emergency vehicles," Castle explains. "She was barely able to drop me off here. There were more accidents than they could handle, along with the panic that terrorists are going to blow up the city, and all the other emergencies. She's on duty, along with every other cop in the city until the weather straightens out. Even then, there will still be trepidation in the populace until the feds offer reassurances that travel can return to normal. As soon as they have the phone bank set up, I'll be working as a civilian volunteer answering calls at the precinct. I'll take one of the heavy-duty lanterns I use when Alexis and I go camping and walk there."

Martha puts her hand on her son's shoulder. "You're a good man, Richard."

"Just doing my part, Mother. With Kate's and my investigation on hold, it's the best I can do. At least the labs are up and running, so our evidence should be waiting for us when we get back on the trail. Right now, Alexis and I are going to put together a pan of the special Castle lasagna and a batch of brownies. If you're going to hunker down, you might as well enjoy it."

Martha pours herself a goblet of red wine. "I can enjoy more than lasagna."

Checking out the window for the 10th time in 20 minutes, Elliott stares at the same landbound gray cloud. His plans are going to hell. He should be on a plane to Istanbul, where he'd change flights for Podgorica. Instead, he's stuck in New York with the clock ticking.

Charlaine let him know that Bracken was trying to find him. The man is like a dog that scratches on the bedroom door whining to go out just when you're in the middle of… Screw it! Soon, Bracken won't matter. That's one tie Elliott will happily cut. If Lockwood talks, all the heat will fall on Bill. Anything Coonan spills will be a competing story. By the time the cops and the D.A. figure out the truth, Elliott will be long gone. As soon as this insane fog lifts, he can line up a private jet. With the flight schedule disrupted the way it is, he'll have lots of competition, but he's willing to do whatever it takes.

Rick is startled to feel arms wrap around his neck until he sniffs the familiar scent of cherry shampoo. "Kate, I figured you'd be up to your beautiful ears combating threats to the city — real and imagined. I've had a lot of calls about both."

"We've been swamped," Kate admits, "but I had to tell you this. C.S.U. reached out with the D.N.A. results from Coonan's clothes. Geiger's D.N.A. was all over them, and not just the traces they'd pick up from being in Geiger's locker. They analyzed saliva that Perlmutter found on the back of Geiger's neck, too. Apparently, Coonan drooled a little when he made the kill. We have him. The D.A. can get Coonan to flip on Bracken and then charge him with Geiger's murder."

"I hope so, Kate."

"Oh, it gets better than that, Castle. According to the schedule, put out by Bracken's office, he made it to New York just before everything closed down. They're making a big deal of him being here with his constituents in their time of need — as if he's actually doing anything decent. But the minute the hammer falls, we can pick him up. I'd put a watch on him if we didn't need every unit, but he's not going anywhere."

"When do you think you'll be getting a break?" Castle asks.

"I'll have 45 minutes for dinner at six."

Castle consults the time display on his computer. "That's about an hour from now. With the vehicle ban, we can't order in, but with any luck that diner three blocks from here is open. They should be doing a land-office business. If their menu's online, we can order ahead. Any particular cravings?"

"I'm dying for a piece of pie if they have any," Kate admits. "I had their banana cream once, and it was incredible, but I'll settle for anything with a crust and filling."

"You don't usually leave things that wide-open," Castle notes. "Burger? Chicken?"

Kate flutters her eyelashes. "Surprise me."

"Unfortunately, I don't think that the diner's menu will have too many surprises, but," Rick wiggles his eyebrows, "you and I always manage to come up with something new and fascinating together." He sighs. "Only 45 minutes."

"And that's stretching it," Kate responds regretfully, "but when this is over, we can make up the time."

"I'm going to hold you to that," Castle declares.

With the help of Rick's lantern and Kate's Mag-Lite, the couple makes their way along the sidewalk. "You know," Castle muses, "if I made weather like this a scene for a story, I'd be vilified for using a hack literary device."

Kate grimaces. "Sounds like an accusation from Badcock."

"Ugh, let's not make the evening any gloomier by talking about him. But really," Castle insists, "' It was a dark and stormy night,' is the cliché of clichés. There's even a contest to see who can write the worst book starting with those words. It's an offshoot of a competition to start the worst sentence that way."

"Speaking of books, how is that special project of yours coming along," Kate inquires. Any inspirations?"

Castle wrinkles his nose. "Recent unfortunate happenings will contribute to a chapter or two, but I still have a long way to go."

"Sounds like you'll be burning the candle at both ends even more. When is Black Pawn expecting it?"

"Candle burning isn't a problem. They aren't expecting it," Castle confides. "I haven't told them I'm writing it. So far, you're the only one who knows."

Green sparks in Kate's eyes penetrate the fog. "I guess I should be honored. Have you ever held out on them like that before?"

"A couple of times when I came up with some truly embarrassing plots for Derrick Storm, but nothing like my attempt at this opus. I want to do it without some editor in my ear."

Kate leans into his arm, nibbling on his lobe. "I thought your ears enjoy a little attention."

"Only when it comes from you." Rick pulls Kate against his body. "Maybe we can eat fast."

Kate's fingertip traces Rick's lips. "I have a better idea. Let's get the food to go."