The Long Game: Chapter 22
DISCLAIMER: None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you Mr. Marlowe.
Richard Castle's Beach Home in the Hamptons, around 5:20 p.m., Thursday afternoon, March 22, 2012
Kate Beckett stands in Richard Castle's kitchen, a small tumbler of bourbon in her hand. Normally one for wine, this approaching evening is far more suited to harder stuff. She glances at her ex-captain, Roy Montgomery, who has made his reappearance to Castle's family this afternoon. She watches the conversation between Roy and Martha, as Roy fills in some of the blanks for Martha on his incredible story. A story that – as Kate is only now realizing – is having massive repercussions.
When Elena Markov first visited Kate at her apartment and gave her the package, Kate knew something had gone horribly wrong with the plan she and Roy had so painstakingly executed. The moment she opened the package and read the unsigned note, she realized that she was now, once again, a target. It immediately occurred to her that, despite their best efforts, she and Roy and uncovered something – or left some footprints - that unbeknownst to them, put them back in the crosshairs of Senator William Bracken. Now she also realizes that while she and Roy were running their long game, so, too, was one Jackson Hunt. And also unbeknownst to her, Hunt had brought his son into the mix.
A hand suddenly comes to rest upon her shoulder, startling her. Her head whips to the left to find her face to face with Jackson Hunt. Roy has also noticed the man of espionage moving toward her and has moved his conversation with Martha closer to his protégé.
"A word, Captain, Detective?" Hunt asks. It strikes Kate as odd that the man continues to refer to Roy as 'captain'.
"Certainly," Roy intervenes, answering for both.
"Look," Hunt begins. "I know this is awkward. Hell, awkward doesn't begin to describe things. And I don't want trouble with either of you. Really, I don't. You both mean much to my son," he continues, then turns his attention to Kate. "You mean the world to him."
"You mean the world to him," Kate repeats in her mind.
"Oh God, if only that were really true," she thinks to herself. "But his own father would know, would he not?"
She forces herself back into the present, as Hunt is still talking, addressing she and Roy directly.
"But I can't have Richard – and his family – back in the crosshairs of these people simply because of some harebrained scheme you two have cooked up."
"Now wait a minute here," Roy Montgomery argues, as slight indignation arises within him.
"That's not entirely fair," Kate adds. "You don't know what our –"
"I don't need to know, Detective," Hunt interrupts. "I need only look at the results. Almost a year after you began your little plan, what have you accomplished? Senator Bracken is more popular than ever, he is within months of the presidency, and he's become emboldened enough, or threatened enough to come gunning for you, for my son, and who knows who else!"
Roy begins to speak, but a raised hand from Hunt stops his words in their tracks.
"I will not allow that," Hunt finishes.
"What choice do you have?" Roy asks, his hands outstretched. "Realistically, your options are –"
"Unlimited," Hunt interrupts again. "Oh I have options, Captain Montgomery. Please do not make the mistake of thinking I have no options."
The threatening tone is unmistakable. Both Roy and Kate take an involuntary step backward against the force of his words.
"Dad," Castle begins, "these are my friends. You . . . you can't . . . you can't just –"
"Can't just what, Castle?" Kate asks. The insinuation from Hunt was fairly clear, if not unbelievable. As usual, Castle has come to her defense.
"I don't want to Kill Roy, son," Hunt tells his son. "And I certainly don't want to kill Kate."
"But you would?" Castle asks, already suspecting the answer.
"Without a second of hesitation," his father answers, as chill bumps break out across a shocked Kate's arms and back.
"What do you expect us to do?" an unflappable Roy Montgomery asks. "Simply drop this?"
"I can't tell you what to do, Captain Montgomery," Hunt responds.
"But you've clearly just threatened us," Kate counters, testily.
"Don't think of it as a threat, Detective," Hunt offers her. He smiles. He actually smiles as he says this. "Life is filled with actions and reactions. Actions and consequences. Most times, our problems arise when we act without any pre-knowledge of those consequences," he continues. "I have not threatened you. No, I have merely given you a peek, a prelude. Whatever action you choose, you do so now with fore-knowledge – not ignorance – of the likely consequences.
A few seconds of uncomfortable silence follows before Roy Montgomery breaks the impasse.
"This is unfortunate," Roy states.
"For you, yes it is," states Elena Markov, now inserting herself into the discussion.
"I can't just let this go," Kate tells the room. "Not now."
"Kate, you have to," Castle says, now beginning to plead with her. He knows her stubborn nature, and he has seen, first hand, what his father is willing to do.
"I know it's difficult," Castle continues, "but continuing this right now will only get you killed. I couldn't live with that, Kate."
He looks at his dad as he says this, and then repeats it for his father. "I couldn't live with that."
Castle is no fool. He knows that if Kate and Roy continue, his father will indeed kill them. Or have Elena kill them. He has seen his father on a mission, and he knows that he father is deadly serious when he says that he is under orders. He knows that Hunt would kill Kate and Roy without a second thought.
More, it has occurred to Castle in the past few minutes that his father very likely knew about the Senator's plans to kill Kate Beckett last spring, at Roy's funeral. It appears that nothing in this very long game has gone unnoticed by Jackson Hunt. Yeah, Hunt knew about Bracken's plans to kill Kate at the funeral . . . and did absolutely nothing to alter those plans. He didn't intervene. He only intervened when he felt his son was in danger.
So no, Jackson Hunt has no qualms over killing this woman. And Castle knows that if Hunt kills Kate, he will hate the man forever. Worse, he has no illusions that Hunt is unaware of the ramifications of his killing Kate Beckett.
"Castle," Kate argues, her stubborn streak rising again, "you know I can't. I am finally, finally there. I am too close. This close," she states with heavy emotion, holding her thumb and forefinger apart by less than an inch, to visualize just how close she is to finally catching Bracken.
"I can't believe you wouldn't be on my side with this, Castle," she tells him.
"Kate," Castle counters, as now his frustration begins to show. "If you really wanted me on your side, you would have included me in this year-long, grand scheme of yours and Roy's.
"Castle," Roy argues, "I've already told you. This was my plan, not hers. This wasn't her scheme – as you put it – to share.
Richard Castle, however, has had enough with the hiding, the deception and the double-talk. There is more force in his words, more harshness in his voice than he intends.
"Roy, forgive me," Castle says, "but cut the crap. The minute Kate agreed to this plan of yours, it became her plan as well. It ceased being a 'my' thing and became an 'our' thing at the point. We can't become a part of something, but then exclude ourselves at our convenience."
Castle's thoughts take him back roughly a week, to a scene in his garage. Scott Dunn lies helpless in the trunk of his father's SUV. The scene unfolds slowly, as his father raises his weapon and fires, killing Scott Dunn, while Richard Castle stands and does nothing. A 'my' becomes an 'ours' in those moments. An action, or a lack of action – either way it is a choice. And once a choice is made, well, then a side has been taken.
"Detective," Elena interrupts again, "a little more patience on your part and you may find your gift handed to you, wrapped in a nice, neat little bow."
"This isn't about you," Kate argues with the assassin. "You know nothing of my life."
"And you know less than nothing of mine," Elena counters, a frightening smile on her lips, with more menace than Kate has ever heard in her life.
"I think it will be best - for you - if you let this drop with her, Detective," Hunt warns.
"Perhaps we should let things sit for a few minutes," Castle says, stepping between the two women, trying to diffuse the tension which as just cranked up again.
Everyone is silent for a few seconds before Jackson Hunt puts his drink on the counter, and glances at Kate Beckett.
"Kate, take a walk with me," he tells her.
On the beach, along the ocean outside Castle's Hamptons home
Jackson Hunt and Kate Beckett walk in silence for about the first 50 yards along the coastline of the beach. She walks with her arms flowing freely, while he walks with his hands in his pockets. He stops, suddenly, and stoops down, picking up a lone sea shell from the sand. He massages it with his fingers, smiling at some long-past memory, and then tosses it into the surf.
Kate observes this odd juxtaposition of assassin peacefully co-existing – no, enjoying – a simple shell creature. Somehow it calms her. Hunt seems to sense this, and begins.
"Let me tell you a little about Elena," he begins, and smiles as he sees the detective tense up at the mere mention of Elena's name. Her anger returns, and she begins to say something when suddenly he hands her a shell. She chuckles to herself, then tosses the small object out in to the surf as well, as they continue walking. Now calmer, she answers.
"Look," Kate begins, "I'm sure she has her own story, but –"
"Kate, so much of this mess is because you can't see beyond your own quest for vengeance," he tells her.
"This isn't about vengeance," she counters. "This is about justice."
"No, it's not, Kate," he disagrees, still smiling. He places his right hand in hers as they continue to walk. She finds the contact oddly . . . comfortable.
"Justice has no timetable, Kate. It happens when it happens. And when it occurs, it is all encompassing. It is thorough. Vengeance, however, is driven by time. By an urgency. Right now, you are at the end of your rope. I can see it. I can't even say that I blame you. Like you said, you're this close," he says, holding his thumb and forefinger close together, as she had minutes earlier. "But as Elena said, just a little more patience on your part will likely give you the justice you deserve. If you can wait just a little longer. But your quest for vengeance right now will get you killed."
"You'd really kill me?" she asks, not really believing his words.
"Without a thought," he answers without hesitation. It completely disarms her.
"Knowing what Castle and I are to each other?" she asks.
"You and my son are nothing to each other," he counters.
"That's not true," she says indignantly, her voice slightly rising. The waves crashing against the shore share the violence she feels right now. "We've been growing closer. Until a month ago, we could both see it."
"You and Richard have the most tragic relationship, one built upon lies and mistruths and omission of truths," he tells her. You lie to him. He keeps something from you. You keep something from him. He deceives you. And we aren't talking little white lies here, Kate. We're talking big league stuff."
"But in the last couple of months," she argues, "he and I have been –"
"Continuing to lie to each other," Hunt interrupts, undeterred. This simple truth quiets Kate, as she begins to consider his words. She finds it difficult to argue against his observation, because clearly it is true. And she is beginning to realize that the why of it doesn't really matter. What matters is that she and Castle, somehow continue to choose to lie and mislead one another.
"Let me tell you about Elena," Hunt says, again trying to bring the conversation back to his reason for wanting this walk along the beach with Kate. "That's why I brought you out here. Because the first thing you need to know is that Elena is Richard's legal half sister."
OK, so this surprises Kate. She wasn't sure how Elena and Castle's father met, or ended up as business partners, or whatever the heck they are. But she never imagined that there was any kind of relationship between Elena and Castle.
"Does he know?" she asks, eyes wide and showing more surprise than she would like.
"I believe, based upon what I know he overheard, he's starting to put it together."
"How is that possible?" she asks.
"I adopted her," Hunt responds. "Twenty . . . no, twenty-one years ago."
Back inside Richard Castle's Hamptons home
"So . . . Elena," Castle says, sitting down next to the woman on the sofa in the family room. "I couldn't help but overhear . . ."
"I thought you might have," she smiles, her head down. She looks . . . so gentle right now. So unlike the cold killer he knows her to be.
"Overheard what?" Roy Montgomery asks. He sits in the big arm chair next to the sofa, next to Martha who sits on the sofa next to her son. Alexis sits by herself on the loveseat, her legs drawn up underneath her feet.
"Richard and I are brother and sister," Elena says softly.
"Really?" Martha asks, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. She feels an unexplainable pang of disappointment, realizing that Jackson Hunt has been intimate and started another family after her. She knows it is unreasonable, since she certainly hasn't been exactly celibate since his departure.
Alexis, on the loveseat, remains silent, simply taking it all in.
"I am his half-sister, actually," Elena explains. "Not by blood, unfortunately."
"How so, then?" Castle asks, intrigued.
"Your father adopted me when I was fifteen," she tells him.
"Really?" Martha comments again. She exchanges a confused glance with Castle, both of them struggling to understand what would possess Jackson Hunt to dare bring a young teenage girl into his life, into his world. Martha then offers a quick, concerned glance to Alexis, who she sees is easily enamored with the pair of siblings.
"I was twelve years old when it started," Elena begins, her voice even, and taking on a bit of a monotone delivery. Her eyes gaze far off as she tells her story.
"I was molested and abused by my Uncle. Good and kind Uncle Milos," she smiles, and it is the deadliest smile Castle has ever seen. Even Roy Montgomery stifles a shudder at the woman. "He was my father's brother. It went on for a year," she continues. "Family gatherings were . . . especially difficult. Uncle Milos always found a way to get me away from the others, or catch me alone."
Martha, despite herself, feels the moisture build up in her eyes, while Castle glances down at his hands, which have formed shaking fists.
"Did you tell your parents?" Alexis asks, somehow emotionally detached from the conversation, forcing Castle once again to wonder exactly what happened to his daughter during her time with Scott Dunn.
"I did," Elena responds, looking evenly at the young teenager. "Mother believed me, more or less. More often it was less. Father did not believe me at all," she comments. There is no emotion in her voice, no sadness, no anger. "Father could not bring himself to believe me. So I ran. I was thirteen when I left home. I lived on the streets in Leningrad for two years before our father found me," she says, now looking at Castle.
On the beach, along the ocean shoreline a couple of hundred yards past Castle's Hamptons home
"I was coming out a bar, after doing a bit of reconnaissance for a mission when I found her," Hunt continues, his right hand still holding Kate's left hand as they walk along the surf. "She was a street prostitute, and she propositioned me as I was walking to my car. I knew she was far too young. Her body was developed and attractive, and her eyes were fierce and anything but innocent. But her face was still young, underdeveloped."
Back inside Richard Castle's Hamptons home
"Your father knew I was young . . . too young," Elena continues. "He saw beyond the makeup and the push-up bra. He saw beyond the veil that I had created, to the young girl underneath." Her eyes remain glazed and far away.
Roy is standing now, up against the unused fireplace, while Castle has placed his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees as he listens to his sister's story unfold.
"He took me away, took me in to live with him," she says, now a softer smile on her face. "He gave me a home, and a purpose."
"He trained you?" Roy asks, already knowing the direction this story goes.
"More than that," she answers. "He mentored me, he honed me. He guided me. He channeled my anger in a more productive manner."
On the beach, along the ocean shoreline some three hundred yards beyond Castle's Hamptons home
"You taught her how to kill," Kate says, trying to keep any judgement out of her voice.
"I channeled her anger in a better way," he tells her. "I'm sure you have heard of the term 'black widow', he asks.
"Oh my God," Kate responds, her hand clenching his a bit more tightly now.
"Yeah," he replies. "She wasn't just a prostitute. She took her anger out on the men who were unfortunate enough to accept her advances," he tells her. "She would give them what they wanted, then kill them. A quick slash to the neck. She'd become very proficient with the knife. Whatever money was in their wallet sustained her. Cash, credit cards, she lived off them."
Back Inside Richard Castle's Hamptons home
"It was a predatory existence, I grant you," Elena continues. "But it served my purpose. With each kill, I saw my dear Uncle Milos. Every now and then, I saw my father in their lifeless eyes. Each kill was in close proximity, very bloody. I showered a lot, as you might imagine."
"No one ever questioned what was happening to men disappearing?" Roy asks.
"Of course," Elena responds. "Johns have money, and many of the men were somewhat prominent. Businessmen, politicians, military officers," she smiles. "So many of them were married. Early on, I would often glance at their wedding rings. It makes no sense now, but it helped me justify the first few kills. After a while, I noticed I had become rather adept at taking life. At getting in close range with a man and making a kill."
The room grows quiet for a few minutes. Castle asks the logical question burning in everyone's minds.
"So, my father picked you up, but not for sexual purposes," Castle begins. "Did you know that when he picked you up? Were you aware that he was trying to help?"
"At first no," she responds. "He simply looked at me and told me to get in the car, much as any other man had done in the past." She smiles more broadly at this memory. Alexis has leaned in closer now, engaged in every word from her new aunt's lips.
"But then he didn't take me to his hotel room. He started driving away from the neighborhood, and I was convinced that my sins had finally caught up with me," Elena continues. "I figured he was taking me to some secluded area to do away with me."
On the beach, along the ocean some two hundred yards from Castle's Hamptons home
Jackson Hunt and Kate Beckett have turned around, and are now heading back to the house. Kate has taken her shoes off and holds them in one hand, as she walks ankle deep in the water on the return trip.
"She gets into the car, and we drive for a while, just talking – easy talk, you know," Hunt says, smiling himself. "We get to this small diner, and I pull over and park. She seemed nervous, for some reason that I didn't put together at the time. We got out of the car and I walked to the door of the diner," he says, remembering their first meeting. "She just stood next to the car, unsure of what my intentions were."
"I'll bet," Kate responds. "She probably thought you had plans to kill her."
"Yeah, I figured that out later, over dinner. Or early breakfast. Whatever you want to call it," he replies. "It was about 11:30 that night when we sat down in the diner. She asked me why we were there. I told her I was hungry. Then I asked if she was hungry. She seemed to relax – just a little bit at that point."
Back inside Richard Castle's Hamptons home
"He told me that I looked very young to be 'in the profession'," she says, laughing. "Those were the words he used. In the profession. I thought it funny and started laughing. It was not the first time I had heard that term, but somehow, coming from your father, it seemed humorous."
"Were you still afraid then?" Alexis asks, and Castle cannot help but be a bit unnerved by his daughter's interest in this discussion. But he also somehow knows that this conversation is good for her, it is somehow cathartic for his troubled daughter.
"My fears were slowly leaving me," Elena admits. "There was something about him, something that told me I had nothing to fear from him. By the time we ordered food, I knew two things about him."
"What were they?" Castle asks. He cannot help but be intrigued by this story. Whether it is the author in him, or the fact that this is his long-lost and previously unknown sister – he is fully engaged at this point.
"I knew that I was not having sex with him," she chuckles, "and I knew I was not going to kill him."
Her matter-of-fact delivery is chilling, considering this was a fifteen year old prostitute, slash, assassin she is talking about. Alexis, for the first time in almost three weeks, considers someone else's trials far worse than her own.
"Not that I could have killed him," Elena continues, laughing out loud now. Giggling, actually, and the irony does not escape any of the adults in the room. "I had no idea I was being fed by one of the most dangerous men in the world."
"When did you find that out?" Alexis asks.
"Yeah," thinks Castle. "She is too damn engaged in this."
On the beach, along the ocean roughly a hundred yards away from Castle's Hamptons home
"After we had eaten, I asked Elena where I should drop her off," Hunt tells Kate. "I had no intention of doing so, mind you. Once she told me her age, and her story, there was no way I was just leaving her."
"Why?" Kate asks. "I mean, it was a very altruistic thing for you to do, but . . . well, I mean, you're a CIA agent. Your life is no life for a child."
"But I knew she was no child, Kate," he tells her. "You see, my mission in Leningrad was to find out who was killing off prominent men. Two high ranking politicians and one CIA operate show up dead . . . well, let's just say that the intelligence agencies of both the U.S and the post Soviet Union were both interested in finding out who was behind it all."
"And you had figured out that it was a prostitute?" Kate asks.
"That's what made the most sense after about a week on the ground in Leningrad," he tells her. "Each man was last seen in the same neighborhood, around the same time at night. It was apparent that they were picked up by a woman of the night. My theory was that it was an old rogue KGB agent – female of course – that was still playing the old game."
"What changed your mind?"
"When I left the bar and Elena walked up and propositioned me," he tells her softly, "there was something about the way she carried herself. The only way I can describe it is that a killer recognizes another killer."
"Do you think she recognized it in you?"
"No," he says, shaking his head. "She was still too young, too inexperienced. Kind of ironic, too, since a few of the men she had already killed were killers themselves."
Kate nods in understanding, and despite herself, begins to view the enigmatic Elena Markov with a new set of eyes.
"Anyway," he continues, "when I asked her where to drop her off, she hesitated. Just long enough for me to realize she didn't want me to know where she lived. Her defenses were coming back up, and fast."
"So what did you do?"
"I took her back to my place," he replies.
"And she just followed you, just like that?" Kate asks, incredulously.
"I was honest with her, Kate," he replies, smiling again. "I told her I was CIA. I told her I was an assassin of sorts. And I told her she had nothing to fear from me. If I had wanted her dead, she would have been dead an hour ago."
Kate nods, fighting back a cold shudder at how easily this man talks about taking life. Sure, she's a detective and she is no stranger to taking a life. But her world view on the matter of killing is one hundred and eighty degrees opposite from this man with her, walking casually in the surf, talking about murder and death in much the same way as other people talk about the upcoming weekend ball game with the kids.
Back inside Richard Castle's Hamptons home
"So, we go to your father's hotel room," Elena tells Castle, "and he takes out a camera and photographs me. He takes the tiniest printer from his nightstand, and prints it out, and places it in a passport. I remembered laughing because he had seven or eight passports, some for male, some for female."
"A spy has to be prepared, I guess," Castle chuckles.
"A passport to get you out of Russia?" Roy asks. "Where was he taking you?"
"Back here to the United States," she responds. "We get on the plane, and he holds my hand as we take off," she remembers. Somehow, it is a fond memory for her. "It was the first time in years I had allowed myself to feel comfortable with a man's touch – and it was something as simple as a man holding my hand."
Martha nods her head, realizing how quickly Jackson Hunt was able to get this young, abused teenager to trust him.
"A day later, we are in Washington, D.C," Elena continues, "and I am in training. He brings in a nanny to educate me, to . . . to . . . what do you call it?"
"Home school," Alexis answers.
"Yes, home school. She home schools me by day, and he trains me by night. He tells me that I have a gift for close contact kills, but he is going to refine my gift. Hone my anger. He used these very clinical terms with me, but I trusted him. Because he never touched me. He never looked at me in 'that way'. He became my father. That first week he processed paperwork to adopt me. He took the 'H' off my first name and I kept my last name.
Elena takes a sip of wine from her glass – the first taste since she began her story. She closes her eyes, savoring the taste.
"You have good taste, Richard," she smiles, and he cannot help but smile with her.
On the beach, along the ocean outside Castle's Hamptons home
"So you see, Detective," Hunt concludes. "You have had a tragedy in your life, yes. But there is always someone who has had their own tragedy. And for them, their tragedy dwarfs yours simply because it is their tragedy. Your tragedy is nowhere near as bad to them because it is yours, not theirs. And just as your mother's murder has done so much to define you and your life, so too has Elena's early teenage years defined who she is and who she has become."
"Don't you think you had a hand in that?" Kate asks, and she is not being confrontational. It's a good question, he realizes.
"There was no way, Kate, that I – or anyone else – could eliminate the anger and violence that burned inside Elena. The betrayal by an uncle, the betrayal by a father, the lack of support from a mother – trust me, I couldn't eliminate that anger, but I certainly could hone it. And to be truthful, I was able to use it.
"You mean use her," Kate counters.
"Yes," is his simple reply.
"That's pretty callous, don't you think?" she asks – again, no confrontation intended. They are just having an honest dialogue.
"True," he agrees, "but it's also pretty honest. The truth is often dirty, Detective."
They stand in silence for a moment, staring back at the water that continues to relentlessly pound the surf.
"So, where does that leave us," Kate finally asks him. He's been waiting for this question. "I mean, we are still at opposite ends of –"
"I have two objectives, Kate," he says, interrupting her. "To protect my son, and to protect the Senator. In that order, by the way."
"Hmmph," Kate responds, muffling her thoughts.
"Why the sarcasm, Detective?" he asks. "You have goals for Senator Bracken. So do I. The difference is that my goal for the Senator comes second to my goal for my son. If you were able to say the same, then we all would be in a very different place right now. You could actually say that you and Richard have a relationship."
"I do put him first," she argues. "I kept him out of this to protect him."
"By you and Roy putting Smith in contact with him?"
"It worked, didn't it?" Kate continues to argue. "It kept him away from my mother's case, and it kept him close to me."
"It kept him close to you only because without Smith's intervention, Richard would have eventually left the 12th. He would have eventually found out about your lie in the hospital. Sooner or later. Then what?" he asks. "With no Smith, there is no reason to stay and protect you. What would keep him there then, Kate?"
Kate is silent as she opens the screen door, and walks inside, reflecting on Hunt's question.
Back inside Richard Castle's Hampton's home
"Hello you two," Martha sing-songs, standing to her feet. Roy Montgomery walks toward Kate Beckett, if nothing else than to ensure she is okay after her walk.
"Hello, Martha," Hunt replies, smiling. He walks and stands by her and she offers a sip of her drink, which he thankfully accepts.
"So, if I may ask," Alexis asks the woman across from her, "what ever became of your Uncle Milos."
Elena's smile is cold, and her eyes dance with delight.
"I killed him."