A/N: Long awaited I know, but this was a tough chapter and I wanted it to be exciting and I have no clue if I managed it, so do a girl a favor and if I did – review!
Chapter Twenty Seven: Won't back down, surrounded.
One month ago . . .
So much for a clean getaway, Castle thinks - they're being hunted it seems.
"What do we do?" Castle asks - his voice a little panicked as his fingers tighten around the rifle in his hands unconsciously.
His father looks thoughtful, eyes darting around them as if he's coming up with and discarding plans rapidly, somewhere behind them the sound of the motor boat pursuing them grows louder. Finally Gabor focuses his attention on Castle and his bright eyes are absolutely resolute in the darkness, almost glittering with purpose.
"We're getting out of here – alive," he answers. "I promise you that Richard. I will get you out."
Castle draws a shaky breath and lets the determination in the seasoned spy's voice settle him somewhat before he swallows purposefully, forcing his anxiety low in his belly. He's so much stronger now, he reminds himself. So much better prepared for any and all eventualities than at any time before in his life – whatever they have to do now, he has faith that he can handle it.
"I believe you," he reassures the older man. "But we need a plan."
Gabor manages a grim smile as he pushes the sleek speedboat to the absolute limits of its power, "Well it just so happens that I have one," he answers.
He lays it out quickly for his son as their boat bounces closer and closer to the plane that is their salvation, and the writer's eyes grow rounder and more incredulous by the moment. When the CIA operative is finished he eyes Castle with a weird mixture of apprehension and pride, "You can do this," he says his voice a hundred percent sure.
Castle's eyes lose their focus for a moment as he looks inwardly for fear – and when he finds nothing other than adrenaline jitters he grins broadly and nods, "I know," he answers. "I've got this."
The sliver of moonlight that's helpfully illuminated the night since they left the island behind, seems to be in collusion with them. It casts one final moment of brilliance ahead, glinting off the seaplane that's anchored firmly to a large buoy some 200 meters away, before it disappears behind thick and ferocious looking clouds, plunging the ocean all around them into a blanket of thick inky blackness that mercifully conceals.
A spotlight comes on in the distance at their rear and Gabor tries to assess how far back their adversaries are, mentally making calculations about how much time Castle needs to buy for him. At the rate the speedboat behind them is coming, the operative estimates they'll be within range of the plane inside ten minutes, he can get the pre-flight down to that, but that leaves them absolutely no window to make their escape. He needs another of couple minutes at the very least and their plan is risky – it exposes his son in a way that's actually making the CIA vet anxious in the extreme. On one side of the equation it's their only shot and he's convinced Castle can do it – but on the other, on a purely instinctual parental level it's scaring him to death.
He cannot lose his son, not after all these months of successfully managing to keep him safe and risking his career – his very life in order to accomplish it. He's got to get the novelist out of this situation permanently now and give him back his life.
"You ready?" he calls to Castle, over the straining engine whine of their transportation.
The writer inclines his head, excitement and determination shining fiercely in eyes, "As I'll ever be," he shouts back. "Just tell me how close I need to get you?"
Gabor steps aside from the speedboats controls and Castle lowers the rifle to the floor of the boat and steps in to replace him. He takes them over with a sure hand, hugely thankful under the circumstances that at least it's not the first time he's ever driven one. It's been a long while though, and he leans close to the controls in the darkness, scanning them quickly to memorize them.
His father hand grasps his upper arm and squeezes and Castle looks back up at him.
"Bring me as close to the buoy as you think you safely can, drop her throttle down quickly when we're twenty meters or so away, she'll coast in – I'll jump and then you floor it – push her right back up to full and you head away," he instructs.
The writer nods. "Got it."
Gabor shoots a quick glance at the light of the boat behind them, no doubt in his mind the damn thing is still gaining. He turns back to Castle; the lines around his mouth are grim.
"Lead them away Richard," he says – hating the necessity of it. "Get clear of the buoy by at least five hundred meters and then hit the spotlights on this baby - draw their attention to you. Make your course a large loop of a circle, but head back towards the plane only at the last moment – and only when you hear the props actually fire up – you hear? We'll only get one shot at this."
"I understand." Castle says gravely, "You should take the book," he adds.
Gabor looks like he might say something, but then he just nods. "Where did you stash it?" he asks instead.
"I dropped it in the locker that the rifle was in, still safe in its waterproof pouch."
The CIA agent moves to the center of the craft and tugs the closed storage locker open – he retrieves the precious cargo with steady hands and moves to the far edge of the boat. Looking down at his son's work Gabor steals a moment and lets the future play out before him – sees Castle and Kate reunited, married, building a family and he smiles because he's knows somehow he's going to be a part of it, then he blinks the future away and inhabits the present, focusing as Castle kills the engines and the speedboat lowers in the water, bringing him within easy reach of the plane.
He shoots the writer a quick grin, "Good luck," he calls.
Castle grins back before he winks. "Yeah you too old man," he jokes, and then Gabor leaps.
The ocean is cold and black and the ambient light is almost non existent, mercifully the buoy and the plane are barely ten meters away for which the operative swiftly gives thanks. Gripping the novel tightly Gabor moves quickly through the water as behind him Castle floors the speedboat and it roars away.
Clambering up on to the seaplanes floats the CIA operative tugs on the door and when it swings open he tosses the book towards the back of the plane where the hull of the aircraft is thicker and it'll be safer - in the event of gunfire more protected. Holding on tight to a strut he balances quickly and walks back to unleash the plane from the buoy, time is of the essence but in the pitch black he's conscious of moving carefully.
The three-strand polyester mooring rope has stiffened only slightly from salt deposits but the rope is wet and in the dark its especially hard to untie it, minutes that feel like hours are wasted as Gabor curses a stream of vehement Chinese in frustration before the last knot gives and the plane is finally able to float free.
Gabor clambers frantically back towards to the front of aircraft, pops the door once more and climbs quickly over the co-pilots seat, dropping himself with relief, dripping and shivering in the pilots' spot so he can begin to get this baby ready for the air. With quick expert fingers and years of practice he flicks the switches and taps the dials, checks the plane has almost a full compliment of fuel and then as the electronics in the cockpit come singing to life Gabor checks the ocean around him nervously – hoping with no little amount of trepidation that things are going according to the plan for Rick.
He can't get over how flaming dark it is. Castle pilots the speedboat away from the plane at the maximum acceleration he can coax out of the twin engines, but it's just a touch scary that he's basically heading completely into nothingness out here – he can't see beyond about five feet ahead of him. Checking over his shoulder he scans the dark ocean for the pursuing boats spotlight and he can't be sure, but he thinks that the other boat has already altered their course to match his. Although that's what they wanted eventually, the fact that it's already occurred makes Castle stop and think. Clearly whoever is after them has something on-board that they're using to track him somehow. Radar or sonar or night-vision, hell Castle doesn't know, but they clearly have to be using something.
The writer blows out a panicked breath and shakes the anxiety away; the adrenaline is making him antsy that's all. He just has to turn her slightly now, his course is supposed to be a subtle curving arc – he's got to focus on that – on his role in their escape here.
He turns the wheel to the right gently, the boat is going so fast a gentle course change is all she should handle, he doesn't want to risk getting tossed over the side this far from Gabor and the seaplane – they'll never make it if that happens.
Castle looks at his watch and tries to estimate how many minutes he's been speeding away. His prior confidence seems to be deserting him and he's afraid now, out here on his own that he'll get too far away and be cut off from Gabor by their adversaries. He's afraid he won't hear the seaplane props coming to life over the roar of the boats own engines – then he's afraid he will but that he won't be able to get back to it – he's just . . . afraid. He wants to go home, he wants Kate – God he just wants Kate; he wants her so fucking badly.
Unsurprisingly, it's her imagine - the thought of her that calms and focuses him.
It's been four months since he last held Kate, four months since he made love to her – since he tasted her on his tongue. Four months without her scent, her voice, her laughter – the love in her beautiful eyes. It's been four months since he's seen his daughter.
Castle turns the speedboat more fully back towards the seaplane that he can no longer see but unerringly knows is there – it's been four months of his life that he's given up to this shitty situation – so no bloody way is anything stopping his homecoming now.
Ears' straining the writer is relieved when he suddenly catches the sound it feels like he's been waiting an age for on the air; definitely not a boat whine – that's the propeller of an aircraft he's sure. He hits the spotlights on the speedboat at last, lighting up the ocean around him even though he's certain his attackers already know exactly where he is. It's more important now he thinks for Gabor to see him, so that he can head the plane this way slightly as it taxis', he sights the light of the other boat getting steadily closer – it's going to be tight no doubt about it. God he prays they get away with this.
The seaplane engines spring to life with a reassuring fire, each propeller gaining momentum evenly, and Gabor breathes tiny sigh of relief. In the blackness the operative had been watching the pursuing speedboat as it got closer before it changed its course towards Rick as they'd hoped, following the speedboat away from him. Now that the plane is taxiing he waits for his son to hear it, scans the ocean with his piercing blue eyes just waiting on the acknowledgment. The plane's radar shows him the swiftly moving blip that is the boat is son is piloting, and Gabor can see the second dot that's rapidly closing in.
A concert of moves plays across his mind, two boats and a plane and angles that all collide. It's too tight still; the operative can see that – so he can't wait here for Rick he's got to close the gap himself a little, move the plane towards him.
The dark ocean is relatively calm but thankfully conditions are not glassy, glassy would be bad, no air sliding under the floats increasing the drag and perhaps preventing him from getting the plane airborne, so Gabor engages the throttle, turns on the plane's own set of spotlights and noses the bird towards Castle.
When the lights of the distant plane come on Castle smiles, their attackers have a decision to make – which vehicle do they try to cut off? Of course they could just try to get right in between them . . .
Shit!
Castle eases up on the arc the speedboat is making, turns it right towards the plane – and floors it.
The radar blip that is his son is aimed directly for him now, no curve coming back around, just full on down the line of the plane's taxi – what the hell Rick – Gabor thinks, until he guesses the new plan.
Fuck!
Gabor increases the speed of the taxi.
Castle can see the light of the other boat growing bright now, hear it like it's already upon him, suddenly a bullet whistles past his temple and he falls back startled, scrambles to right himself and steady the speedboat.
Bastards must have a night-scope on that rifle.
Castle keeps low as much as he can and still steer the speeding boat towards the aircraft, he glances at the dark water as it whizzes by – it's going to be like hitting concrete at this speed, and that's gonna hurt like a son of bitch dammit.
Better that than a bullet Rick, he tells himself.
Then he grimaces – better than bullet – but still.
Gabor closes the gap as quickly as he can; it's like a three-way game of chicken! The operative can't contain the rueful smile or the shake of his head as he beelines for the approaching novelist – his son is fucking crazy.
The seaplane is clearly advancing as quickly as possible now without his father pushing it into the air, he's obviously picked up on what Castle is attempting to do and the writer grins evilly.
He counts himself down as two more rifle shots rip over the gathering storm of noise from the three converging vehicles engines. Pain lances through his right bicep as a third bullet grazes him, but Castle keeps counting, he hits ten, then turns his vessel away from the seaplane and towards the oncoming speedboat, locks the throttles in the full position and dives over the side away from them.
The now unmanned speedboat plows towards the other boat and as the writer hits a wall of water that winds and then engulfs him, he hopes Gabor really does know to change his angle now and come to save him.
Clever boy is heading the other boat off. Gabor turns the seaplane to his right and lowers the speed of his taxi, heads it towards the prior position of Castle's speedboat before it suddenly changed course – prays his son is in the water.
Castle emerges from beneath the waves gasping and in acute pain. This must be what it feels like to jump from a moving car, his left side is numb, he can't even move his arm and his right arm burns from the gunshot as he struggles to keep himself afloat. The lights of the seaplane find him just as he's disappearing beneath the waterline.
"Rick-"his father's voice yells into the night. "Swim. You have to swim."
The ocean is like a blanket over his head, the cold water leaching all the pain in his body away – he could just fade, it would be peaceful.
Castle don't you dare.
He can hear her then like she's next to him.
Come on Castle – you got stronger and did all that training exactly for this. Come home to me now. Come home Castle. Swim.
"Richard-" his father's voice replaces Kate's as Castle emerges from beneath the waves again, the writer gasps, pulling oxygen greedily into his lungs he lets the lifesaving gas infuse him, give him back his strength, and then he does as he's bid - he swims.
The seaplane is only fifty feet away and it's closing, but so too is the other speedboat. Forcing their pursuers to avoid a head-on collision with Castle's abandoned craft gained them something, but unless Castle can get on-board the seaplane within seconds now their slight advantage will mean nothing.
The plane picks up speed and Castle forces himself to swim faster, the gap closes completely and Castle makes a frantic surge upwards out the water just as his father leans out the aircraft and reaches down.
Their hands lock, and with a strength borne entirely of desperation Gabor hauls his son onto the float of the seaplane. Then he pushes the aircraft's throttle to full, sending it careening hastily over the dark waves.
It's going to be so close. The seaplane is heading away from their attackers but the boat has the speed advantage for now, it's a question of getting enough momentum for rotation before they can be either boarded or shot in the fuel tank and taken out of the air.
It takes Castle a second or two to catch his breath as he clings to the strut attaching the pilots' side float to the plane. Water sprays up into his face reviving him and the float bumps beneath him as it collides with and skips over the waves. A big bump jostles him, almost tipping him back over the side and it finally hits him – this thing is about to take off and he's . . . outside of it.
The writer clings tighter, pushes himself to his feet on the float. The pilots' door is open slightly and his father leans forward in the pilots' chair as Castle manages to wrench it wide. He steps up on the door-frame and wedges himself past the operative until he's fully inside.
A 'thunk' sounds beneath them and Castle looks at Gabor – his eyes wide.
"Bullet hitting a float," the operative says matter-of-factly.
Castle swallows, settles himself in the copilots seat. "How long before you can get us in the air?"
There's a pause and a flash outside, a bullet pinging off a metal strut that supports the wing.
"How long-"Castle gasps again.
His father winks at him, "Over the hump and rotating now."
Castle isn't strapped in but the force of gravity keeps him firmly in his seat, the g-force pulling low in his abdomen as the plane pitches skyward with her nose-up, before Gabor banks her immediately to the side, levels and then banks her sharply once again.
Castle looks out the window on his side that's facing down at this attitude towards the inky sea; he sees the attacking boat flash by beneath them – and then only ocean. The plane climbs higher and higher and Castle smiles over at Gabor, all white teeth and pride.
"We did it," he says, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice.
Gabor punches him lightly in his non-bleeding arm.
"You did it," he retorts. "You did it Rick."