And here it is, the final chapter.
Castle thanked the cabbie and stepped out into the dusk air of Manhattan. City that never sleeps it was. The sidewalks were just as crowded as when he left before.
Castle was exhausted, emotionally and physically. He wanted nothing more than to eat some cereal and plop into bed. But, good father was, he needed to make dinner for his hungry teenage daughter and maybe a few other house guests. Shaw and especially Beckett were always welcome. He could hold on for a few more hours.
Castle walked the remainder twelve feet to his apartment building, trying to force his mind to relax. The past twenty-four hours were hell, and had forcedly dug up the skills and secrets he had tried to hide.
Suddenly, his senses went on alert. He couldn't pinpoint it, just a feeling of unease, a worry in the dark jungle. His eyes flicked left. Woman with a stroller, man with a pizza, kid with an iPod. Right, man on a cell phone, man in a leather jacket, woman leading a little girl. In front, doorman patently holding th door.
Castle continued walking, both arms holding his paper grocery bags. His heartbeat seemed to slow, the calm before the storm, saving the energy for the adrenaline rush. Like in the Blackhawk in Bosnia. The absolute calm before jumping out of the bay. His sense of smell and hearing sharpened to the point where he could eavesdrop on a phone conversation, smell what a man had for dinner...
the leather jacket man's hand whipped to his side. Castle watched helplessly as, in almost painfully slow motion, he drew a gun...
The man's chest exploded. A loud, echoing boom filled the streets. People ducked and ran for a presumed safety, but having no idea where, or what, had happened. Castle rushed into the building, his mind already calculating where the sniper must have hidden.
For sniper it must have been.
Chief Master Sergeant James "Lefty" Taylor layed low on his rooftop, his breathing slow and calm. He thought, Little Ricky still has his reflexes. At least some of them, anyway.
He pushed the speed dial on his phone, "Sty, we got a problem."
The end
If you want a sequel, Review. Otherwise, no sequel.
