A Fly in the Garden: Chapter 18
DISCLAIMER: None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you, Mr. Marlowe.
Monday, February 20, 2012 – 11:28 a.m. – Roughly the same time, at Pier 39 on Fisherman's Wharf
Kate Becket sits on the bench, roughly thirty feet or so away from the outdoor, makeshift ticket counter just outside the Pier 39 entrance where her target currently works. She has reprised her damsel-in-distress disguise, but dropped the 'in-distress' mode for the afternoon. She sports the same blonde wig and blue contact lens. She's added sunglasses and a large, broad hat with a floppy brim that almost covers her eyes. She wears an oversized sweater to simulate a few added pounds, and purple lip gloss finishes the look. She looks like the prototypical Fisherman's Wharf tourist, out souvenir hunting - only she is in hunt mode for a very different prey right now.
She has to make this look good, it has to look authentic, because Mara Blankenship has met Kate Beckett – up close and personal. Mara knows how the ex-detective talks, how she sounds. If Mara recognizes her, it's all over. Most likely she and her husband would go to the ground – deep – never to be seen again. Jennifer suspects they have been doing this for some time, and only recently graduated to the big leagues. They'd resurface somewhere else, under new identities, and start their game anew.
She cannot allow that to happen.
She spots Mara behind the makeshift counter, standing on a slightly raised platform that allows her to look down upon the patrons who approach for tickets. It also gives her a good vantage point to see the pier unobstructed. As it was the last time she saw her, there is a long line of waiting patrons, eager to get their tickets for the next cruise. She spots Jerry behind the counter as well, Mara's co-worker from the last time she and Castle were here. She fights down a natural sense of déjà vu, understanding that now there are two people in play here that she must ensure sure do not recognize her. She will have to make this fast. But first, Mara has to come out from behind the table counter for this to work. Or at least so she thinks.
She glances at her watch. 11:26 a.m. She watches as the patrons in line slowly make their way forward. A few minutes pass by and then a young woman – screaming warnings at the top of her lungs – comes barreling down the sidewalk on her . . . unicycle?
Seriously? People actually still try to ride those mobile deathtraps?
It is immediately evident that something is very wrong. The woman is out of control.
Of course she is.
"Look out!" Kate screams, now rushing toward the customers standing in line, but trying to be careful not to break her cover with any official-sounding warning. She has to tone it down a bit. After all, the normal tourist most likely initial, split-second reaction is self-preservation, not some heroic effort. Regardless, she has to try to steer the people in the line clear of the impending disaster that is pedaling at breakneck speed toward them.
With people frantically diving out of the way, the unicycle – and its rider – smashes into the ticket counter top, knocking both Jerry and Mara backwards, splintering the counter, leaving pamphlets and paper tickets flying everywhere. The credit card machine ends up some fifteen feet away after a couple of damaging bounces break it into pieces. The cycle is clearly non-functional, and its rider lays sprawled atop poor Jerry, who is moaning in pain.
Kate assesses the mass of humanity spread across the concrete, with people crying in pain and screaming in terror, wondering if this is some type of attack of a different nature. And given the times, who can blame them. Finally, a voice Kate Beckett remembers screams out.
"What the fuck!" Mara exclaims, her elbows bloody, the palms of her hands bloody, and a growing ache in her right hip. She lies extended, flat on her back, looking skyward. She turns her head, glancing over at the woman still spread across her co-worker.
"Jerry, are you okay?" she asks, trying to move her arms and legs, hoping everything is still working. She offers a glare at the woman still on top of Jerry who is rubbing her temples.
"I'll give you a headache, bitch," Mara thinks to herself.
"Do I look okay?" Jerry manages as he turns his head and spits blood from his mouth after biting his tongue during the collision.
"I am so sorry!" the woman begins blubbering. "I am so sorry," she continues to express, wiping the blood from her elbows that she has scraped along the concrete. A large bruise is growing on her thigh under her jeans. She touches the area gingerly, finally able to pick herself up from the ground. She reaches down and helps Jerry get to his feet, fighting an emerging limp as she does.
Kate, still in disguise, steps over the carnage to Mara and bends down, attempting to help her to her feet. Mara stumbles and winces from the pain in her hip, barely keeping herself upright, using Kate for leverage. Kate puts both arms around the woman to help stabilize her. She smiles inwardly as she realizes that Mara is in no position to see through her disguise.
"I am so sorry," the unicyclist tells Mara, now standing next to her with a whining Jerry beside her. "My gear popped and I couldn't stop. I was trying to warn everyone. I'm so sorry. Are you all right?"
"Look at me!" Mara hisses angrily. "Do I look like I'm all right!?" These damn tourists. This isn't the first time some stupid tourist has knocked her over in the past year and a half. This is getting ridiculous.
"I said I was sorry," the woman states testily – her tone changing quickly. Something flashes in her eyes, and immediately Mara recognizes that – regardless if she is a clumsy fool and all of this is her fault - this is not a woman to mess with. Kate sees it also, standing there with Mara, and suppresses a shiver. She turns her attention to Mara.
"You will be okay," Kate tells Mara, lightly brushing pieces of wood off of her. She intentionally lowers her voice slightly, and speaks with a raspy edge to her voice.
"Thank you," Mara replies, genuine gratitude in her voice. "I appreciate it."
"No problem," Kate repeats, nodding her head, and immediately turns her focus elsewhere, at other people still picking themselves off the ground. As Kate turns and begins walking away, a small smile builds on her face.
About Twenty Minutes Later
"Shit!" Mara half screams, then catches herself as she glances around her at the eyes that now follow her. She turns away, now talking in hushed whispers, but no less angry, as she walks quickly toward the pier entrance.
"Shit! Shit! You have got to be kidding me, Jimmy!"
She is on the phone with her husband, Jimmy Blankenship, who himself has just gotten off the phone with Neil Francis at SFMTA. Today has turned into hell on earth.
"This is just great," she muses to herself as she rubs her hip, immediately wincing from the cuts and bruises on her palms. First that idiot cyclist with the freaky eyes, and now this. She silently wonders what he did to cause attention.
"What did you do, Jimmy?" she whispers angrily. "This was perfect. No one suspected anything on the buses. Muni has always been a safe alternative for people. That's part of the reason we chose using you on the buses."
"Don't drop this on me, Mara," he fights back, raising his voice. "You're the one who broke the pattern by taking the damn Ward woman at the wharf the other night," he tells her, his anger rising. "It was too much too soon, and you know it. We take what – ten, eleven girls – whatever, in five to six months and no one is the wiser. But no, you have to go and get greedy and take a second woman in two days. And now two days later, the police are sniffing around. Sniffing around here. They will be looking for me, not you. This is all on you, Mara. I won't let you take me down."
"And exactly what is that supposed to mean?" she asks, the warning tone in her voice clear to her husband.
"It means you need to wise up, stay with the program, Mara," he tells her. "Stay with the plan that has been working. We need to talk to Donovan. We may need to disappear, and re-group somewhere else."
"Don't be stupid," she tells him. "We aren't going anywhere. We knew the police would catch on at some point. But they have nothing as long as we don't give them anything."
"Oh my God," an exasperated Jimmy yells into the phone. "Were you not listening, Mara? They came to MUNI. They asked for surveillance videos for one bus. One bus out of 800 plus buses. Mine! Hell, she sked for Bus 38 by number.
"She?" Mara asks, her senses on high alert now.
"Some detective from the city," he replies, still seething.
"Do you know her?" Mara asks.
"Dammit, Mara, for once in your life, listen to what I am saying," Jimmy explodes. "I was not there! I am giving all of this to you second-hand, from Francis. He saw the woman, not me."
Mara considers Jimmy's news to her, and rubs her hip, biting down on the pain. Despite his concerns, she remains convinced that the key here is not to panic. People who panic make mistakes. Mistakes get you caught. And they aren't caught. Not yet. Let them get close. They can still pull this off.
"Nothing changes Jimmy," she finally tells him, back to her normal voice and her heartbeat finally slowing down a bit. "Don't panic. Don't do anything stupid. They are looking at bus 38, the Geary route. You drive bus 1 as well, the California route. They didn't ask for you, by name. We will make it through this. Just sit tight, and give me a few minutes to think."
She hangs up the phone, cursing. No, this isn't good, her confident statements to her husband notwithstanding.
Meanwhile, a half mile away outside Alioto's restaurant on the wharf, Kate Beckett smiles as she listens through her earpiece in her left ear. Lindy Matthews sips a glass of ice water with orange slices, and smiles at her friend. "Got something interesting already?"
Kate can only smile. The idea of planting a bug on Mara was a stroke of genius only if it were successful. Only if she didn't recognize Kate, only if Kate could get close enough, only if Kate could plant the high-tech device onto the woman without being detected. Lindy had promised a distraction. Kate had no idea that Lindy's version of a distraction would be so . . . so physical.
Only sheer surprise had helped Kate suppress a laugh as she saw Lindy barreling out of control towards the ticket counter. Then as Lindy plowed into the structure, destroying it and scaring the hell out of about thirty or forty people in the area, Kate could only marvel at Lindy's version of taking one for the team.
And yes, it has been so worth it. She wasn't sure exactly what they were hoping to gain from bugging the woman. The device that Mike had provided to Lindy for Kate is soft and pliable, and as of this moment, is literally attached to the back of Mara Blankenship's hair, right behind the neck. Both women figured that planting it on Mara's clothing would likely fail. It would either get knocked off, or easily found by the woman. And they have no doubts that Mara will find this. But they believe that its location will buy them a few hours before the woman goes home to shower.
Neither had any idea that Jennifer's quest for information this morning would have such a domino effect.
"Oh Lindy, this is far more than just interesting," Kate replies. "This is the 'gotcha' we weren't even daring to hope for."
"So soon?" Lindy asks, taking in the seafood aromas around them.
"You know, sometimes fate is just favorable," Kate muses, recalling numerous time when fate has been anything but. "I've learned not to question it, but to just accept it gladly. Anyway, are you sure you're okay. That was quite a fall."
"A controlled fall, Kate," she counters easily – for the third time in the last twenty minutes - with a smile. "And we got what we wanted. Mara bugged for the next few hours. And evidently spilling information."
"But you were bleeding," Kate argues, glancing again at the woman's elbows that are still leaking blood onto the makeshift bandages.
"It had to be real, Kate," Lindy dismisses. "Anyway, it's just a few scratches. I made sure Mara took the brunt of it."
Kate chuckles, and thinks of Jerry.
"Poor Jerry did also," she tells the ex-military woman.
"He'll live," Lindy offers nonchalantly. "Big baby if you ask me."
Kate thinks back to the look Lindy gave Mara, and recalls Castle's warning that – according to Mike Monroe – Lindy Matthews is more than capable of taking care of herself. Her thoughts suddenly shift gears.
"I have to warn Jennifer," Kate says quickly. "Jimmy knows that something is up now. That's what I was listening to. Evidently he has a plant inside MUNI who must have called him as soon as Jennifer left."
"Did he recognize Blackard?" Lindy asks, taking two large swallows and throwing the empty plastic cup into a garbage can.
"No," Kate tells her, "Thankfully. But it won't take much for him to find out which officer was snooping around. I'm sure he got a good look at her, and for all we know, may have even gotten a picture of her. Either way, things are going to heat up quickly now."
Monday, February 20, 2012 – 12:03 p.m. – Back at Richard Castle's Sausalito Home
The incoming intercom beep on her phone startles Mayor Sandra Clooney, who has been staring out the window, re-hashing the speech she is going to make in less than two hours at her press conference. She is going to go on the air and speak about the kidnappings.
"Yes Karla," she acknowledges to her assistant outside her door.
"There is a Mr. Castle on the phone for you, Mayor," Karla tells her.
"Give him to me," the mayor says quickly, and Karla punches the transfer button to send the call to the mayor's phone.
"Mr. Castle," she begins. "So how are things across the bridge?"
"They are moving along as planned," he tells her.
"So then, to what do I owe the pleasure?" she asks him.
"I promised to keep you in the loop, Mayor Clooney," Castle begins, as he takes a seat in his den. "We have found a couple of leads we are running down with MUNI. I don't want to say much more – not just yet – but I would really be surprised – very disappointed – if this doesn't yield fruit for us. I know you were planning on talking to the press this afternoon, and while it's too early to throw the idea out there about MUNI, I just wanted you to know."
"I appreciate this, Mr. Castle," she tells him, smiling inwardly, mentally noting another reason to trust the man across the bridge in the future. "Anything specific I should know?"
"No, ma'am," he tells her. "Well, I will tell you this – we have narrowed things down to a couple of buses," he tells her, offering a small white lie. He does not want to give away that they are down to one route, the 38. Not yet.
"I hope to have more for you by this evening – one way or the other," he promises her. "And I will definitely be watching this afternoon."
"Good to know," she tells him. "I guess we will be speaking this evening."
"Yes, either way," he tells her.
"Good. Thank you, Mr. Castle," she tells him as she hangs up. Both feel good about the conversation. Castle in that he hasn't given too much away, or so he thinks. Clooney in that she is confident she has found another confidante, another person she can trust. That list is very, very short at the moment. And for good reason.
Unknown to either of them, without minutes of her hanging up their call, another call is being made from a cell phone in the stairwell of city hall.
The phone rings four times. No matter, he knows that he rarely answers on the first or second ring. He is rewarded for his patience.
"Hello?" the voice greets him.
"Hello, sir," he answers. "You wanted me to call you if I ever heard anything suspicious, anything that might interest you from the mayor's office."
"Yes," the voice replies, now showing considerably more interest. "What do you have for me, Anderson?"
"A Mr. Castle called the mayor just a few minutes ago," Anderson tells him. "Short conversation, but evidently he knows something about the kidnappings, because he mentioned something about MUNI and bus routes. Said that they – he said the word they – were looking at a couple of routes and they are confident they are on the right track. So evidently he has some kind of team working with him."
"Really now," the voice replies. "Well, that is very disappointing. Very disappointing. A Mr. Castle you say?"
"I didn't get a first name, sir. I do know that he is either in the East Bay or the Sausalito or Hamilton area."
"And you know this how?" the voice asks.
"The mayor asked him how things were going across the bridge," Anderson tells him, feeling good that he is able to provide some valuable information.
"Well then," the voice concludes, "I will have to look into this. And Anderson?"
"Yes, sir?"
"You were absolutely right to call me," the voice replies. "Thank you. I will pass on something for you this week."
"Thank you, sir – I appreciate –"
Anderson stops as he realizes he is now talking to dead air. No matter, he will get a nice stipend this week for just a few minutes work. Easily the best gig on the planet, he reminds himself.
On a yacht cruising along the Pacific coast, just off Seal Rock approaching the Golden Gate Bridge, Donovan rubs his chin, considering what he now knows. He immediately thinks about the Castles, the new women's shelter over in Sausalito, funded and run by one Richard Castle. Yes, that would fit 'across the bridge.' And yes, this would make sense that a man so consumed with the plight of battered women would take an interest in women going missing. And the idea that such a man would have access to Clooney?
Yes, that is easily plausible.
He continues thinking, rubbing circles on his chin. He glances over at the lithe form of the beautiful young blonde who lies on the large oval bed here in his master stateroom. Her eyes are glassy, as she is still groggy from the drugs they keep in her system. He places a hand on her exposed thigh, but she barely moves or acknowledges him.
"We need to wake you up a bit, Miss Ward," he tells the woman on the bed who does not hear him.
He pats her on the rear, then stands and climbs the stairs to the deck, immediately breathing in the clear sea air and smiling. Here he is at home, at peace, at rest. It is his sanctuary.
"So I wonder how much you know, Mr. Richard Castle?" he muses aloud, immediately deciding that a visit to the Castle's complex is in order. Soon. And it won't be a visit he makes by himself. And who knows, he may find new fish at the complex to add to his collection.
He takes his phone back out of his pocket, and punches a contact number. Seconds later, his party answers.
"Yes, sir," the voice replies.
"Benny," Donovan begins, addressing his security chief. "I believe I have a new job for you. One I may choose to accompany you on, my friend."
He hangs up the phone, and – taking in a deep breath – now considers how to address this breach with a certain couple in the city.