A Fly in the Garden: Chapter 21
DISCLAIMER: Most of these characters are not mine at all, but they are memorable. Thank you, Mr. Marlowe. The others? Yeah, they're mine
Tuesday Evening, February 21, 2012 – 7:42 p.m. – At the Castles Complex in Sausalito
The evening fog rolled in around 5:55 this evening and it hangs on the modern complex like an old, comfortable overcoat. The heavens have favored Richard Castle this evening, providing the cover that he and his security team desire.
When he first began thinking about this campus, security was one of his first concerns. Not that he ever in his wildest dreams anticipated a potential raid by sex-trafficking gangsters. An errant and disgruntled husband or ex-boyfriend? Yeah, he had numerous nightmares about that scenario. That had been the extent of his imagination.
Mike Monroe, however, had other ideas.
When Castle had explained his plan, his vision for the Castles Complex and what he wanted to do for battered women, Monroe had been blown away – no, scratch that – he had been almost frightened by the sheer scope of things. A campus of roughly 80 acres, with multiple buildings housing one hundred families, with acreage for potential growth? An administrative building and on-campus groceries? All built upon alongside and into the hills adjacent to the Pacific Ocean in a major earthquake zone?
Where Richard Castle had seen nature and seclusion with a hint of adventure, his security chief saw a massive complex accessible by land, air and sea with numerous points of entry for the determined lunatic. Monroe worried – needlessly according to Castle – about defending the campus, protecting that many families spread out across twenty-five plus buildings.
Fortunately, Castle listened to his friend and allowed him to implement the very expensive failsafe option – literally a safe of sorts.
Each building has what appears to be, at a cursory glance, a central patio storage unit. The door to the attached storage unit opens to a small, four by eight space that extends the illusion of storage. The small trap door - via a slanted eight foot ladder - leads down into a large, twenty by twenty basement area, complete with its own air and heating unit, a couple of sofas and a refrigerator stocked with drinks. Mike had insisted on the addition built into the design specifications of each building – including the administration building, in the event things ever got dicey. It's not designed as a permanent or long-term dwelling.
Tonight, Richard Castle is grateful for the concerns of his somewhat paranoid security chief. Each of the families have been informed of the potential threat – and why. Each was given the option of leaving the facility for a few days, to be put up at an upscale hotel back in the city. An almost tearful Castle was stunned into silence when told that every woman – to a woman – opted to stay. A not insignificant number of them considered Pamela Hamilton as one of their own, and putting themselves into her place – it turned out to be a fairly easy decision. More than a handful had asked how they could help.
"You can help," Monroe had told the families assembled in the large auditorium of the administration building, "by staying underground. By ensuring that my team doesn't have to worry about you, about any collateral damage. I don't mean to be heartless, but I don't need any of you dead. And if we are correct – which I hope we are not, by the way – but if we are correct and there is an assault on our campus, our homes here – I need to know that I don't have to worry about any of you being above-ground. Because I promise you, once this starts, the kid gloves will be off."
"Where is Mr. Castle?" Pamela Hamilton herself had asked. The woman feels conflicted. On one hand, she is feeling guilty that her daughter is the reason that Castle and his team are engaged in this in the first place. She knows that had it not been for her, none of these women would be in danger. It's a foolish thought, certainly, but one she cannot shake.
On the other hand, however, she cannot deny that there is an anticipation that the people responsible for her daughter's kidnapping might be punished, might lead them to her daughter. She tries to push down that anticipation as well.
As for Mike Monroe, he cannot shake the anticipation of a fight he is anxious to have. Pamela Hamilton's plight has brought – front and center – a major hot button for the black man. He has long held that the authorities have done criminally little to halt the horrific issues facing Pamela Hamilton's daughter. The average person thinks it is some major issue in some remote Asian country, when in fact, it is in every state of the United States. It is widespread in Canada, in Europe. It is the invisible global issue that is spoken about in hushed terms. Even the designated name – sex trafficking – he considers to be a cowardly dodge of the issue.
"It's nothing short of forced sexual slavery," he had told Castle in private, after hearing Pamela's story during her admission process. "We hide behind cute, politically-correct terms like 'sex trafficking', when it is absolutely akin to what we, as blacks, went through in the 1700's and 1800's. For God's sake, Rick, a fucking civil war, the bloodiest war in our country's history, was fought over slavery and the free economy it afforded the South. We had blacks kidnapped from their country and put on ships to a strange place and forced into servitude. Now we have women kidnapped and put on beds and forced into servitude. Where is the outcry? Outside of churches, we rarely hear about it! And when we do, we sew up a few t-shirts and wear a few ribbons. We sweep it under the rugs, just thankful that it hasn't touched our daughters, our sons."
So yeah, Mike Monroe is looking forward to tonight. Or tomorrow morning. Or whenever these people show up. They can't come soon enough.
Earlier this morning – 10:03 a.m. – At the Castles Complex in Sausalito
Mike and Lindy glance upward, watching the chopper buzzing high overhead. Fortunately, Kate had called back a second time, warning him that they may get company from overhead. She quickly explained the morning's happenings. Monroe, once satisfied that Castle was okay, had immediately translated into preparation mode. In this case, he means to give a misdirection to their pending raiding party.
Both Mike and Lindy realize their 'visitors' want to get a layout of the place – the campus, the surroundings. They are looking for the best way in, and for the size and scope of whatever security force is visible. He's going to give them some false information.
He ensures that Lindy and Dawn are out on the perimeter walking in plain sight. He wants them visible. They will be mistaken for residents of the complex out for a walk. Lindy plays her role to the hilt, actually looking upward and waving excitedly at the passing aircraft.
Mike has asked Samantha to go for a walk with Colin Alexander outside in the open. He's looking to give the impression that there are very few men on the campus. That would make sense, given that these are battered women here. There's no need in letting them know about Jerry or Marcus or the others. Let them think that the security is light.
He smiles as he watches the chopper pass overhead. His smile broadens as he considers that Lindy and Dawn can probably handle anything these folks with throw at them, one on one. And he will take Lindy against two or three antagonists any day of the week.
"Yeah, we'll be all right," he muses to himself.
Marcus is inside on the phone, ensuring that the night crew will come in an hour early – at 5pm, ensuring they have a double force. Then he and Jerry and Dawn will take the first shift until around 2pm, allowing Mike, Lindy and Colin a few hours of shut eye. At 2pm, they will switch. Everyone will be awake by 5pm, giving everyone a few hours of combat sleep before what Mike has told them will be a long and potentially violent night.
At the same time earlier this morning – overhead in the Helicopter over the campus
"Look Benny, check it out," Danny Sullivan announces into the headset, pointing down at the ground below. "Looks pretty light down there."
"Yeah, it does," Benny agrees, unable to shake a feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Something doesn't feel right, though."
"What's the problem?" the pilot asks him. "Things look pretty normal to me."
"No men," Benny replies quickly. "Well, I saw the one black dude. That's it. Where are the men?"
"Benny. Benny, this is a supposedly a . . . hell, what do you call it . . . a refuge for battered women," Danny replies. It makes perfect sense to him.
"Why in the hell would you expect to see a lot of men down there?" he continues. "Somebody beats up your sister, your mother, your girlfriend, your wife - do you think either of them want to see a bunch of guys hanging around?"
"Maybe you're right," Benny replies thoughtfully. That would make sense. He slowly smiles as his mind begins to process the likely outcomes from a raid on a minimal security campus like what he sees below. The fifteen or so men that Donovan has assigned to accompany him might end up to be overkill. Then again, if they find five or ten juicy ones down there that fit the profile, they will probably be necessary after all. It probably won't take more than a few of them to deal with the security force down there.
Tuesday Evening, February 21, 2012 – 4:33 p.m. – At the Castles Complex in Sausalito
"Rick. Wake up Rick."
Kate Beckett is very careful, shaking him ever so lightly. She doesn't want to jar him too much. Massive dosages of painkillers or not, she knows he is in a lot of pain. The doctors immobilized his arm in this temporary cast and sling that she currently inspects. Their short-term plan was detailed surgery where they would insert a rod inside his damaged arm, and place an external apparatus with four screws through the arm holding it in place. That turned out, however, to be the long-term plan, as Castle would not allow them to put him under. Not yet – not today – knowing what is likely coming at them today, tonight, tomorrow.
Groggy and in pain, he comes alert far more quickly and easily than she would have imagined.
"Of course he would," she corrects herself. "It's probably the pain that is reminding him what has happened, what is happening."
"I'm here, I'm awake," he tells her quickly, blinking rapidly, willing himself awake and alert.
"Is it time?" he asks.
"It's time to wake up, get ready, if that's what you're asking," she tells him. "There's not exactly a scheduled clock for something like this." She smiles, attempting to bring levity to the situation.
"No, I suppose there isn't," he agrees. "Our women, our families here . . . are they –"
"They're safe, babe," she finishes for him. "Mike briefed them earlier today. Remember? We told you before you fell asleep."
"Passed out, you mean," he half smiles.
"I was being kind," she chuckles. He smiles with her, now remembering their conversation with Mike earlier, now remembering how each woman has elected to stay.
"They do realize that there is no shame in running, in getting out of here, don't they?" he asks. "I mean, actually it is the smartest decision they can make."
"They are staying, Castle," she tells him, and he notes the determination in her eyes. "They have chosen to stay. For some of them, babe – this is their home. For the next five to six months, this is home. This is where they feel safe."
"And they're okay with this?" he asks again, still finding it hard to believe.
"I think, Rick, that they are okay with Mike, with Lindy and Marcus," she admits, the admiration clear in her tone. "With Colin and Dawn and Jerry and Michael and Murph. I mean, really, you couldn't have gotten a more intimidating crew if you tried."
"They're all nice people, too," he muses aloud in wonder.
"I know babe, I know," she agrees. "But dangerous, too."
"Thank God for that!" he says with a wince, forgetting to keep his arm immobile. She helps him stand, and he takes a few extra seconds to gather himself.
"So, what now?"
"The night unit has already arrived, a few minutes early," she tells him. They are with Mike now, getting the full briefing. Mike has us on lock-down all night."
It hits him suddenly, and his eyes grow wide with fear. She knows what he is thinking, she'd already prepared for this while he was out.
"We already have her here, babe," she says softly, hugging him gently. "She's down in the bunker here in the admin building with Samantha. Went and picked her up from school early, personally. She's fine, Rick."
He nods his head in relief, thankful that she has taken care of Alexis while he was sleeping / knocked out. His thoughts immediately turn to the women of his campus.
"What about all of our women who are at work, who need to come back, need a place to –"
"We have them all, Castle. Jennifer called in a few favors with a couple of detectives she trusts – which by the way wasn't many – maybe three tops. But they spent the afternoon canvasing the city area picking up some of our working women. Those that had their own transportation were given personal leave to get out early – something about a call from a police officer that kind of greased the wheels," she smiles.
"Okay, okay," he manages, and she holds on tighter helping him. The painkillers are doing their job too well, keeping him a bit groggy. No matter, before nightfall, she will put him downstairs with Samantha and Alexis and the others. A knock on the door interrupts them.
A second knock and the door cracks.
"Everyone decent?" Jennifer Blackard chuckles, staying out of sight.
"No, he's making violent love to me as we speak," Kate calls out, stifling her laughter.
"Doesn't sound very passionate to me," Jennifer muses as she walks in.
"Hey, it could have been true!" Castle argues, unsuccessfully.
"Not that quietly," Jennifer tells him. "Not from what I have heard."
"Hey!" he exclaims again, this time with false anger directed at Kate. "I thought we said what happens in Big Tex stays in Big Tex."
"Big Tex?" Jennifer asks, now confused.
"Our bed," Kate tell her, now fully embarrassed as her face blushes a dark red. She tries to intervene and steer the conversation away to something new, but she is too late.
"You name your bed?" Jennifer asks with shock.
"You don't?" Castle asks, just as shocked.
"The meds, Jen," Kate whispers to her. "Don't ask."
"Oh, believe me, there is going to be plenty of asking, you can believe that, sister," Jennifer tells her. "No way are you getting off the hook on this one," she continues, now unable to hold the growing smile from her face.
"Focus people!" Kate warns, trying to be as serious as possible, and almost making it. "We don't know what is coming for us – maybe as soon as tonight."
"Right, right, right," Jennifer agrees, still smiling. She glances at a still groggy Castle who rewards her with a quick eyebrow wiggle, mouthing the words "I'll tell you later."
He receives a quick elbow to his good arm in return from Kate, as she leads him out of the room and toward the open area of the admin building. She glances at her watch. It is a couple of minutes before five o'clock. She nods her head, just a gut feeling telling her that tonight is going to be the night.
Tuesday Night, February 21, 2012 – 7:51 p.m. – Back to the Present time – The Compound in Sausalito
"Damn fog," Nick Farros grumbles, making his way toward the large brick structure, topped by an eight foot wrought iron fence. "Can barely see ten feet in front of me."
"The fog is our friend, tonight, Nick," his partner Viktor Markovic whispers, angry at the constant sound of leaves and branches crumbling underneath their feet. Yeah, the fog is going to provide cover in the darkness here, but the damn terrain is going to give them away.
"Quiet!" Benny hisses into his mouthpiece wrapped around his head. "We are at T-minus 9 minutes, and I want this to go by the book. Remember – find the writer, eliminate him. Look for blondes, make sure they look young. Drinking age is spot on. Those are snatch and grabs. Do not hurt the goods. Anyone else you see, eliminate them as well. We will have about twenty minutes, tops to get in, do our business, and get out. Everyone got it?"
"Roger"
"Roger"
"Affirmative"
The answers come in from his small army of fifteen hardened mercenaries. This is going to be easy – once they get to the buildings that is. Minimal security, lots of damsels in distress. Benny smiles as he lays the ten foot ladder against the tall fence structure on the west side of the campus. His strike force is in position at eight different locations, two men at each location. He knows each of them are setting their climbing ladders in place as well. He glances at the sign on the fence – a sign that is repeated along the length of the fence roughly every thirty feet or so.
NO TRESPASSING. VIOLATORS WILL BE SHOT ON SIGHT.
Benny chuckles to himself. "Yeah, shot on sight my ass. Nice scare tactic for a place with crappy security."
He glances upward to the sky, basking in the dark, moonless night, with the predictable fog providing additional cover. It's a good omen, a good sign. He glances at his watch again. Seven minutes and counting.
In the darkness and fog that he embraces as an ally, he does not notice – he doesn't see or hear – the tall black man, dressed completely in black who follows some fifty yards behind.
At the same time, back in San Francisco, Sam Carlos reads a text on his phone and smiles dimly. He immediately pulls up a contact and begins typing a text of his own.
SAM: Kate – game time. You've got visitors on your campus borders.
A/N: My thoughts and prayers are with families in Paris tonight. Man's cruelty to mankind exceeds anything any of us can dream up.