The Pelican Brief

by greygoose70

Three Supreme Court judges have been assassinated. Why? A law graduate thinks she knows why and writes a brief explaining her theory. (Circa 1993) DISCLAIER: i own nothing associated with the network or AWM.

Title: The Pelican Brief, Ver.3

By: greygoose70

Summary: Two Supreme Court Judges have been assassinated. Why? A law graduate from Tulane University believes she has discovered the answer and writes a brief explaining her theory. (circa 1993)

Day 1
In the pre-dawn hours a rubber propelled boat lands at a secluded area along the Virginia coast. A man gets out and retrieves his baggage, then flashes a signal to a ship that he arrived. He picks up his luggage and heads for the spot where a vehicle has been placed for him. The man is Amun Khamel, a professional assassin.

Khamel arrives at his hotel in Washington DC looking much different than he did when he landed. He now is clean shaven as opposed to having a beard and mustache earlier. He is sporting a toupee to cover his balding head, and instead of being clad in black, he is sporting a sport coat and slacks.

Khamel sets his luggage down and knocks on a hotel door. A man inside checks his watch, picks up a manilla envelope off the bed and goes to the door. "Yes," he says.

"Mr. Sneller?" Khamel says, making it sound as an inquiry.

"Sneller?" the man asks in return.

"Yes. Mr. Edward S. Sneller."

The man inside stoops down and slides the envelope under the door. Khamel picks it up along with his luggage and enters his room. He sets his bags down just as the phone rings. He goes over and sets on the edge of the bed and answers it. "Yes," he says, while opening the envelope. Inside is a picture of the nine justices on the Supreme Court. Two of them have a circle drawn around their face, Rosenberg an Jensen.

"Everything is in place," said the voice on the other end.

"Just be sure payment has been deposited when I arrive in Zurich."

"It will be," the voice said, hanging up.

Khamel pressed the number for room service and ordered breakfast.

Time, 10:00pm, the Rosenberg residence. The door to the bedroom is slowly and quietly opened. Rosenberg's nurse is watching TV, his back to the door, Khamel shoots him in the back of the head, then quickly turns his weapon on Rosenberg and puts a bullet in his left temple, neither shot barely makes a sound. Khamel exits through the back, scales the fences and trots out to the street, puts on a set of headphones and begins jogging.

Time, approximately midnight, the Montrose theater located in the gay area of DC. Jensen takes the stairs up to the balcony. He looks around and sees two other men sitting in the back row, so he starts making his way down the aisle, and selects a row of seats closer to the front. He moves to the center of the row and sets down.

Moments later another man enters carrying a bucket of popcorn and takes a seat behind and one seat to the right of Jensen. It is Khamel. He is dressed all in black, his toupee is gone and he has a mustache. He takes a kernel of popcorn from the bucket and pops it in his mouth, then takes a second. He puts the bucket in the chair to his right. He unties the rope at his waist and pulls it out and twists the ends securing around his hands. He flips the rope over Jensen's head and jerks it back snapping Jensen's neck. He then coils up the rope and places it in the bucket, then exits the theater.

Day 2
Time, about 6:00am. The President and Cole Fletcher, his Chief of Staff are walking down the hall of the White House, headed for the Oval Office. Fletcher is describing to him when, where and how the bodies of Rosenberg and Jensen are found. They then begin discussing possible CIA interference and a TV appearance. As they enter the Oval Office the President is suggesting 7am for the broadcast. Fletcher is suggesting how he thinks the President should dress for it.

"You want me to address the Nation wearing a sweater," the President says in astonishment.

Fletcher begins to explain why when suddenly the door to the Oval Office opens and FBI Director Roy Montgomery and CIA Director Kevin Ryan enter.

"Gentlemen. What do you have to report?" The President asked.

"Autopsies and Crime Scene reports will be ready by this afternoon," Montgomery answered.

"And what about the breakdown in security?"

"You're assuming there was a breakdown," Montgomery answers.

"We have two dead judges. There has to have been a breakdown somewhere." The President switches to Director Ryan. "Kevin, do you suspect the CIA, or know of any other agency that could be involved in these assassinations?"

"No one from my organization. We haven't heard from any of the others yet."

"Well, look into it."

"The President has suggested we meet back here at five," Fletcher said.

"Five o'clock, gentlemen," the President said. Montgomery and Ryan turned and left.

Day 2
Katherine Beckett awoke in the early morning darkness with a touch of a hangover, she should never have had that forth glass of wine, three was usually her limit. She stared up at the ceiling fan and listened to her current beau, Thomas Demming, snore occasionally in his Scotch induced coma. She got out of bed went and stood at the open French doors of the apartment. The sun was shining, but Dauphine was dark. Daybreaks went unnoticed in the French Quarter and her mouth was dry.

She made her way downstairs to the kitchen, brewed a pot of thick French Market coffee with chicory. The blue numbers on the microwave said it was now ten minutes before six. She drank three glasses of ice water, then poured a tall mug of coffee and headed back up to the bedroom flipping on the lights as she went.

She eased back into the bed, picked up the TV remote and turned it on. A newsman appeared on the screen saying there would be a special announce by the President at 7:00am.

"Thomas!" She said loudly slapping him on the shoulder. No movement. "Thomas! Wake up," she shouted louder while pressing the volume control button to full volume. "Thomas!" she shouted once again leaning forward toward the television.

Thomas Demming kicked at the sheets and sat up, rubbing his eyes and trying to focus. Kate handed him the coffee.

Suddenly, the screen switched to a view of the Oval Office. The President is sitting behind his desk looking somehow rather odd in a brown cardigan and a checkered button-down shirt, with no tie.

"My fellow Americans," he began. "Our country has been dealt a great tragedy. Last night Supreme Court Judges Rosenberg and Jensen were assassinated. The deaths of these two judges is a direct assault against the very core of our government. But I want to assure each and every American that these crimes will not go unpunished. We will find the person or persons responsible and they will be punished to the full extent of the law."

The screen then switch to a reporter standing on the White House lawn. He began filling in the gaps. Where and how the bodies were found. The police, he said, were being mute, but there appeared to be no suspects at the moment and no leads. Both men had been under the protection of the FBI, which also had no comment. Yes, the Montrose was a place frequented by gay people. Yes, there have been threats against both men, especially Rosenberg. And yes, there could be a multitude of suspects before it was all over.

Demming turned off the set and flopped back down on the pillows.

At exactly 5:00pm, Montgomery & Ryan enter the Oval Office and took a seat on the sofa. Montgomery hands the President a folder with the reports. The President begins discussing with
Director Ryan what he has learned about the possibility of foreign agents responsible for the killings. Ryan replies telling the President that every intelligence agency he has spoken with are unaware of any such actions. The President directs his attention to Montgomery Askes Montgomery for possible suspects.

"This needs to be kept very quiet," Montgomery said.

"Of course, this is the Oval Office." The president replies.

Montgomery starts telling him of the 'Underground Army' and what they have been doing, but suddenly Fletcher interrupts saying, "you don't have a real suspect - do you."

Montgomery gives him a glare. "Actually we have plenty of suspects Mr. Fletcher, but if you have a particular one in mind I'd be glad hear whom it is."

"Gentlemen." The President said authoritatively. "That will be all for today."

Montgomery and Ryan bid their farewells to the President and left.

Day 3
Montgomery has been summoned to the office of the President again. He enters and takes a position in front of the President's desk. Also there is Cole Fletcher who immediately hands him a sheet of paper.

"What's this?" asks Montgomery.

"It's a list of eight judges for consideration to replace Rosenberg and Jensen," Fletcher replies. "We started with twenty but narrowed it down to these few

"We need you run background checks on each," said the President.

"And we'd like to have your results back in one week," Fletcher said. "And we need them to be done quietly without any leaks to the press."

"If the press finds out, they didn't find out from any of his people," Montgomery said. He then turned left.

Day 4
It's 10:00pm and the law library is closing. Kate gathers up her notes, puts them in her bag and heads for her apartment. It's a short six blocks away, gives her time to analyze what she has discovered so far in her search for the reason for the Rosenberg and Jensen killings.

Day 5
Kate awoke to the sound of her alarm. She shut it off, got up and went to the bathroom to take as shower. Dressed and ready to leave she retrieved her satchel off the sofa, and went out and got in her car for the two hour drive to Lafayette.

It was nearly 10:00am when she arrived at the federal building in Lafayette. Traffic was terrible. Entering the building she located the clerk's office and went in. She approached the counter and slipped a piece of paper through the window to the clerk standing there, asking the see that particular file. The clerk took the paper, saw the file number and asked, "why?"

"I don't have to explain. It's a public record, isn't it?"

"Semipublic," the clerk answered.

"Kate took back the slip of paper and put it in her pocket. "Are you familiar with the Freedom of Information Act?"

"Are you a lawyer?" the clerk responded.

"I don't have to be a lawyer to look at this file."

The clerk gave Kate a suggestive look, opened a drawer in the counter and removed a key ring. She nodded, pointing with her forehead. "Follow me."

When Kate stepped inside the room all she saw were file cabinets and boxes lining the walls. The clerk pointed to a wall. "That's it, on this wall," the clerk said walking over to a bank of cabinets and pulling open a drawer. "The file you're looking for will be in here. It has all the pleadings and correspondence. The others have discovery, exhibits, and the trial."

"When was the trial," Kate asked?

"Last summer. It went on for two months," the clerk answered.

"Where's the appeal?"

"Not perfected yet. I think the deadline is November 1st. Are you a reporter or something?"

"No."

"Good. As you probably know these are indeed public records. But the trial judge has placed certain restrictions. First, nothing can be taken from this room. Second, nothing in these files can be copied until the appeal is perfected. And third, anything you touch in here must be put back exactly where you found it. Judge's orders."

The clerk turned and left leaving Kate alone.

Kate began flipping through files until she found the one she was searching for, and started taking notes. The lawsuit was seven years old with one plaintiff, Green Fund, and thirty-eight wealthy corporate defendants. Seven years of expensive legal warfare, she thought, and the outcome was far from certain. Bitter litigation. The trial verdict was only a temporary victory for the defendants. There were boxes of motions. Accusations and counteraccusations. Pages and pages of affidavits detailing lies and abuses by the lawyers and their clients. Kate was burning up her legal-sized tablet with notes and she has only been reviewing the contents of the files for three hours. But then she found it. An injunction prohibiting the exploitation of any resources in that area of the Louisiana marshland. It has been declared a federally protected area that is a habitat for an endangered sub-species of brown pelicans.

She replaces the file, packs up her stuff, leaves the room and exits the building. She needs to get to Tulane's law library.

Day 6
It's early morning when Rick walked into the DC diner. He saw Sarge setting at the counter and took the stool next to him. They exchanged pleasantries, during which Sarge handed him a folded piece of paper. Rick ordered a coffee to-go. He unfolded the paper with Sarge telling him it was a list of the eight finalist being considered for the Court. They continued to conversed until Rick's coffee was delivered, Sarge said he was buying. Rick picked up his cup and left telling the older man thanks.

Day 7
It's taken her two days of writing, editing and rewrites but she has finally finished. She prints it, then slips it in a blue folder and puts it in her bag and heads home. When she gets there Thomas is waiting for her.

"So who killed them?" he asks her once they are inside and she has taken a seat at her desk.

Kate retrieves the folder from her bag and handed it to him.

"After finishing it, then reading it in its entirety I came to the conclusion it's a ridiculous theory. I was just going to throw it away."

"You abandon me for four days to do this and now you're just going to throw it away."

He opens the blue folder and begins scanning through it as he moves over to the that stoop leads into the room. He sets the folder aside and says, "I'm leaving tomorrow for DC to attend Rosenberg's funeral. I was reading some of his opinions last night and began thinking about writing a book about him."

"Nobody could do it better," she said. Kate moves over to kneel in front of him. "I'll be here when you get back."

Day 8
It was almost 7am. Rick Castle was just finishing his morning run. Stepping up to his door he heard his phone ring. He quickly unlocked the door, went in and answered it. "hello," he said.

"Is this Rick Castle of the Washington Post?" the caller asked.

"Yes, who is this?"

"Not important," the caller replied. "I may have information on the killings of Rosenberg and Jensen."

"What kind of information?"

"Not sure, but I believe I saw something I wasn't supposed to see."

"What's your name?" Garcia, I'm a lawyer."

"Okay, Garcia. What did you see?"

"Not over the phone. I'll call again." He hung up.

Rick punched 6 numbers on his tracer, then four more, then another two, he then wrote down the address of the pay phones location.

Thomas has been waiting in the Four Seasons restaurant bar for half an hour when his best friend, Gavin Vercheck showed up. "You're late," he said as Gavin took the chair next to him and ordered a martini.

"Yeah, the director has us working a hundred hours since the Post released that list of judges names.

"So, who killed them? Thomas asked.

"Why you asking me, Thomas. I'm just a lawyer there?"

"A lawyer with big ears if I remember correctly, and someone who also has direct access to the director."

"Frankly, Thomas, we have no idea."

"My girlfriend has written an essay depicting who was responsible..."

"Your girlfriend." Gavin replied with a giggle. "How old is this one, Thomas?"

"Twenty-eight, but she's very smart. Graduated top of her class."

"You have a picture?"

"No. She's not a puppy or grandchild."

"Thank god," said Gavin .

"Here, read it. It's a little off the wall but it makes sense," Thomas said, handing him a manilla envelope. "Now, drink up. Our table is ready.

Day 9
"Come in," Cole Fletcher said when hearing the knock on his door, then watched as FBI Deputy Director Kurt Lewis and Agent Javier Esposito, the agent in charge of the Rosenberg/Jensen assassinations enter and take seats in front of his desk.

"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" he asked.

Esposito was the first to speak. "We've received some information from Paris airport security that someone they believe to be the assassin Khamel arrived on a plane that arrived from Dulles Airport just ten hours after the time Jensen was killed."

"So, you think he killed them," Fletcher said.

"Quite possible. The timing is right."

"Anything else?" Fletcher asked.

"Well, there is this little wrinkle." Lewis said.

"And that is?" asked Fletcher.

"We received this less than 24 hours ago," Esposito was said as he reached into his briefcase taking out a black three-ring binder, then reaching over and putting it on Fletcher's desk. "The Director thinks it might be damaging to the President."

"How so?" Fletcher said.

"It's all in there," said Esposito, sitting back down

"I'll read it later. Now, if that's all, I have a meeting to get to."

The two men got up and left.

Thirty minutes later CIA Director Ryan walked into Cole Fletcher office and sat down. "What ya need, Fletcher. I'm quite busy."

Fletcher passed over a copy of the brief. "I want you to quietly look into this. See if there's any truth to it, and the President doesn't need to find out."

It took Ryan less than a minute to scan through the brief, his speed reading skill coming in handy. "This could be quite damaging to the President if it got out," he said.

"That's why I need to know," Fletcher said.

"I'll see what I can find out," Ryan said, then got up and left.

Back in his office Ryan picked up his phone and accessed a secure connection and placed a call.

"Hello," the male voice said.

"I've got a job for you."

"I'm listening."

"Want you to find this girl." Then giving him Kate's name and location.

"And what do you want me to do when I find her?"

"Watch her, follow her wherever she goes, protect her and keep her alive."

"She must be important. Can I take someone with me?"

"Who?"

"Cowboy."

"Sure. Go ahead. Now get your ass down there."

"On the way."

Ryan hung up his phone.

Day 10
Cole Fletcher worked his way through the horde of reporters gathered outside the entrance to Bethesda Naval Hospital, explaining to them the President was just here for his annual checkup. Finally making his way through, he entered the hospital and took the elevator up to the President's fourth floor room. As he walked into the room he heard the President telling his doctor, Commander Elaine Cody, he had a golf date that afternoon. Cole and the doctor exchanged greetings as they passed.

"What's so important that it couldn't wait?" the President asked.

"This," Fletcher said handing him the FBI binder containing the brief.

"What's this?"

"It's a theory written by graduate law student on why Rosenberg and Jensen were assassinated. Montgomery feels it's worth checking out. Thinks it could be damaging to the White House."

The President fiddled with the binder, then said, "Well, we can't go interfering in an FBI investigation."

"No, but if we can prove the brief is garbage then you could get Montgomery to back off.

"What could be so damaging in it? Did it mention any names?"

Cole gave the President a knowing look. "One name," he said.

The Pres immediately understood, said, "Someone we both know."
Cole just nodded.

The President fiddled with the binder some more, then tossed it down on the bed. He walked over to the window and raised the blinds. He gazed out the window and saw the mass of reporters, so he opened the window and waved to them.

Fletcher just sat watching him.

Kate and Thomas were finished with their dinner, and quarreling. It was late and Mouton's Bistro was getting ready to close. She suggested they leave.

Demming stood up out of his chair, knocking it over in the process. As they headed out the door Thomas took out his car keys proclaiming he was not too drunk to drive. Kate argued he should give her the keys so she could drive. He refused. She continued to plead with him that she should drive. She finally told him to hand over the keys or she was walking. He said, "Well, have a nice stroll" turned and headed to his car, a vintage 1964 Mustang.

Kate turned and began walking off. When she heard him shout out through the window, "Ms. Beckett, you take my breath away." She turned back around giving him a smile. He then started the car and it exploded. She stood there in shock, then ran toward the car muttering his name. The car exploded a second time. The explosion knocked her back and she fell backwards to the pavement. The back of her head hit the hard surface and she lost consciousness.

Kate struggled to open her eyes. Someone was knocking on the window. She was in a car but can't remember how she got there. She turned her head and saw a man standing there. He was signaling for her to unlock the door. She did and he opened it. He flashed something in front her and said he was Sgt. Rupert, New Orleans PD.

A second man suddenly joined Rupert. He began asking for her name. She stammered it out to him. Just then cops cars started rolling in and the two of them took off.

A female officer appeared and began speaking, asking if this was her car. Kate saw paramedics pushing a gurney with a body bag on it and began sobbing so heavily she couldn't answer. The officer called over someone else.

"I'm Lt. Olsen, miss, a man said upon his arrival. "Did you know the man in the car?" he asked. Kate just nodded. "What was his name?"

"Thomas Demming," she said just above a whisper.

"She's in shock. I'm going to take her to the free clinic. Have the car impounded. We'll check it later." Olsen told the uniformed officer.

The clinic was crowded. Olsen found her a seat, then went to get her checked in. "It'll be a few minutes," he told her, when he returned. "Are you sure the man you met earlier said his name was Rupert?" he asked. Kate nodded. "I checked and there is no Rupert in the NOPD. I also checked the plates. They're not in the system, must be fakes. I'm going to move my car. I'll be right back."

Kate sat there confused, if Rupert wasn't a cop, then who or what was he. She couldn't stay here so she got up and headed to the doorway that led to the back of the clinic. She spotted an exit sign and made her way to it. Stepping out she found herself in an alley. A noise was coming from her left. She looked that way and saw a huge crowd of people gathered on Bourbon street. She headed that way, then fought her way through the crowd until coming to the Wyndham hotel where she was able to get a room on the twentieth floor. She paid with her AMEX card and took the elevator up, entered her room and chained the door. She sat down on the end of the bed, still shaking.

Day 11
Gavin Vercheck had just finished shaving when his phone rang. "Hello," he said. The caller was a woman.

"Is this Gavin Vercheck?" She asked.

"Yes," he answered.

"This is Kate Beckett. Do you know who I am?"

"Yeah, I do. We have a mutual friend."

"Did Thomas give you my brief?"

"Yes, he did."

"What did you do with it?" "I read it, then turned it over to the AIC at the bureau who took it to Director Montgomery."

"Has anyone outside the bureau seen it?"

"I can't answer that, Kate."

"Then I won't tell you what happened to Thomas."

"Okay, yes, but by who and how many I don't know."

"He was killed by a car bomb. I was supposed to be in the car with him, but I wasn't and now they're after me."

"Tell me where you're at, Kate, and I'll have a dozen agents there to get you."

"Not so fast Gavin."

"Come on Kate. Thomas was my best friend. You can't stay on the street it's not safe. I'll talk to the Director. We'll keep you safe."

"I'll call you." She hung up.

Director Montgomery entered the Oval Office where he saw the Pres attempting to teach his dog a trick.

"Sit down, Roy. You need to see this." Roy took a seat on the end of the sofa.

"Roll over, Bentley," the President commanded several times while making gestures with his hands. "How serious are you taking this pelican thing, Roy?" he asked.

"I've assigned fourteen agents to it. We don't think there's much to it but we've got to check it out. Why?"

"I'm afraid if the press gets wind of it could be an embarrassment to us."

"Are you asking me to ignore a suspect?"

"No." (giving up on Bentley, giving him a treat) "just back off of it for a couple weeks. Chase other suspects. Give it a chance to die down."

" So you're asking me to back off."

"Yeah."

"Your hatchet man, Fletcher, has been doing a real number on me concerning the protection of Rosenberg and Jensen. Tell you what. You get him off my back and I'll let the brief slide for a while."

The Pres gave him a wry smile confirming the deal.

Kate exited her room, and proceeded down the hall towards the elevator. She was dressed in some new clothes she had purchased earlier. She also sported a red wig she had removed from off one of the dummies to help conceal her identity. When arriving she pressed the down button and waited, getting on when it arrived. She looked around at all the passengers, they were all men. One in particular caught her attention. He was a short balding man standing in the far back corner. She was leery of him. She was sure he had been watching her but shifted his gaze to the numbers above the elevator doors when she saw him. Suddenly the elevator stopped at the tenth floor to let another passenger on. She moved aside to let the passenger on, then waited until the elevator doors were almost closed and bolted out. The short, balding man tried to get through to follow but the doors closed completely before he could.

Kate ran to the stairs and sprinted down to the basement. As she rounded a corner she saw him coming toward her, fast. She spun and ran to the freight elevator, which was thankfully open. She hit the close button, the doors closing just in time to prevent him from entering. Finally making it out on the street she caught the first bus to come by. She got off at Gravier Street, and rushed across the street to the Holiday Inn. Pondering how they found her, she muttered silently, "credit cards." They are able to track her credit cards. With this thought she put her MasterCard away and paid for her room in cash.

Gavin Vercheck picked up his phone and dialed. "Is he in yet? Getting a "no" response, he hung up. His phone instantly began ringing. "Hello," he said.

"It's Kate, Gavin. What did the director say?"

"He's been unavailable this morning, Kate. I'll try to talk to him this afternoon."

"I expected more, Gavin."

"Come on, Kate. Be reasonable. Look. There's a memorial for Thomas tomorrow. I'll be flying down tonight. I think we should meet."

"Where will you be staying?"

"The Weston by the river."

"I'll call you." She hung up. Her next call went to her best friend, Lanie, giving her specific instructions of some things she wanted her to do, then telling her when and where they would meet up.

The Roosevelt Hotel: Agent Hooten was standing at the window searching the rooms in the Holiday Inn through a set of binoculars. "Found her. Two floors down, third room from the corner. She's watching television."

Director Ryan was standing at the end of the bed. "She needs to quit using her credit cards otherwise she'll be dead in 48 hours. Okay everyone, let's call it a night. We'll meet up at 6am." As Agent Hooten turned to go leave Ryan stopped him.

Ryan moved over to the window. Saw her sitting cross-legged on the bed. "We need to protect her," he said. "Her brief is more accurate than she knows. Tell our man on the street to do whatever it takes."

"Yes sir," Hooten replied, then left to deliver the Director's message

Washington, DC: 7:40pm: Castle was just stepping out the door heading for his rendezvous with Garcia when his phone rang. He picked up saying "hello."

"I can't do it," was the first words he heard. It was Garcia.

"Let's meet anyway. We can talk and you won't need to tell me anything you don't feel comfortable with."

"I'm scared. I'm afraid they know that I know. I've got a wife and baby girl. I can't put them in jeopardy." All Castle heard next was the dial tone. In is degust he threw his jacket on the floor. Just then his phone rang again.

"Garcia, listen I know how…"

He was interrupted when a voice said, "Garcia." It was a womans voice. "Is this Rick Castle of the Washington Post?"

"Yes. Who is this?" Not important right now. Have you heard of the pelican brief?"

"The pelican brief. No."

"It's an essay detailing the person responsible for the assassinations of Rosenberg and Jensen. It was taken to Washington by a friend of mine who gave it to a friend at the FBI. My friend was then killed in a car bomb."

"So, your friend took this brief to DC, gave it to a friend at the FBI and now your friend has been killed. How do you know all this?"

"Because I wrote the brief." Castle was silent. "Mr. Castle, can you get copies of all the contributors to the presidential election from three years ago?"

"Yes. They're a matter of public record. But why?"

"You want to know who had them killed them?"

"Well, yes."

"You're an investigative reporter, Mr. Castle, investigate."

"Wait. What's your name?"

"Anna."

"Are you a lawyer?"

"No." Dial tone.

New Orleans, LA, 10:00pm: Lanie Parrish entered the Purple Onion bar. The placed was packed. She worked her way through to the adjoining laundry where she found Kate sitting atop one of the washing machines. Lanie approached and hopped up on an adjacent machine.

"Did you get to check my apartment?" Kate asked.

"Yeah. Your computer was missing. So were your floppies and expandable folders."

"I need you to do something for me," Kate said.

"Okay. What?" Lanie asked.

"I want you to attend the memorial tomorrow. Spread the word I'm in Denver staying with an aunt who's name you don't know, but I'll be back in a few weeks."

"What's going on, Kate? Who are you running from?"

"I thinks it's better if you don't know. You should go now."

Lanie hopped off the washer and gave Kate a brief tug to the cap she was wearing. "You be careful." She left.
There was a young man leaning over a pinball machine that suddenly spoke to her. "Well this is unfair. The prettiest girl in the Quarter and I can't get her to give me a smile."

Kate turned her head toward him and gave him a brief smile.

"That's more like it." He then turned and walked away.

Kate continued sitting there for a few minutes, then got down and began heading for the front exit. She was halfway there when the man grabbed her arm and asked her to dance. She told him "no" and continued on her way. He followed her out and ran to catch up to her again grabbing her asking, "will you marry me? For only five minutes."

"I don't think so," she said, again pulling away.

He caught up with her again and began singing a verse from an old Al Jolson song, Mamie, but improvising the last lyrics to meet his situation. She said something that got the crowd around them laughing and began walking. The man stood there looking around, seemingly looking for someone in particular, then spotting him. He pointed Kate out to him.

Kate saw him coming toward her. The same man from the elevator. She quickly spun around and began running as fast as she could through the crowded street. Pushing people aside when she had to. He was doing the same only more aggressively even knocking some of them down. And he was gaining. She starting running blindly when all of a sudden she collided with the massive figure of a man. "Help me," she pleaded. "That man…" The goliath of a man shoved her behind him, then stood to face Stump. Goliath met the man chasing her head on. The man charged into goliath knocking him back, then with a punch to the midsection and a shove propelled him to the pavement. But then he was grabbed from behind. He spun out of the grasp and faced the new aggressor. He kicked him in the crouch, sending his sprawling. He was immediately wrapped up by two additional men, one having him in a choke hold and he was being led toward an angry horde of people hell bend on doing him physical harm.

Standing in a doorway not too far away Rupert watched the ruckus thankful that he didn't have to intervene.

Kate finally made it to her room and chained the door, then sat in a chair and trembled. Another close call.

Khamel knocked on the hotel room door. A voice inside responded "yes."

"Mr. Sneller," Khamel said.

"Sneller, you said," the voice said.

"Yes. Edward S. Sneller."

The man inside slid an envelope under the door. Khamel picked up the envelope and went to his room. He sat on the edge of the bed and propped up a pillow, then laid back and opened the envelope. The first item he took out was the picture of a girl, a very cute girl. It will be a shame to kill her, he thought. There was another item in the envelope, a business card for a Gavin Vercheck, FBI. He turned it over and saw some writing on the back, The Westin, Room 1521.

Day 12

Newcome Hall, Tulane University: Kate stood at the window on the third floor watching the people as they arrived and enter the campus chapel across the way. She has been here since dawn. She recognized Lanie standing to one side talking to a group hoping she was relating to them the story she had asked her tell anyone who asked about her. She also saw Stump (that's what she named him) leaning against a pillar scoping out the crowd. He was probably looking for her seeing if she would show up, as if she were that stupid. She was sure there were more of them, maybe one inside, another around back. When the service was over and everyone headed to the city cemetery for the burial she knew she was correct. Two other men met up with Stump and they headed off together. She noticed Stump had a limp in his gait. She waited until dark, then made her way back to her new hotel.

The Westin Hotel 9:30PM: Gavin was just getting ready to take a shower when his phone rang. He sat down on the bed and picked up the receiver, said, "Hello.".

"It's me, Gavin."

"Kate, I'd just about given up on you. Tell me where you are and I'll be there with three agent."

"Not so fast, Gavin."

"Come on, Kate." I can keep you safe. I can get you out of the city tonight, have you in DC by tomorrow. I promise you'll meet with Director Montgomery, and we can go from there."

There was a brief moment of silence, then she spoke. "Tomorrow morning. Take the trolley to the Riverwalk, wear a long-sleeved shirt and red cap. Go to the bandstand and stand on the river side and I'll find you. How tall are you?"

"Five-ten," he answered.

"How much do you weight?"

"One-eighty, but I plan on losing it."

"Tomorrow, Gavin."

Then nothing but dial tone.

Gavin laid the pad and pencil that he had used to write down her instructions, then stood and went to the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth. Stepping from the shower he toweled himself off, then wrapped the towel around his waist. He prepared his toothbrush and began brushing then headed back to the bedroom. He stopped along the way to gaze at himself in the closet door mirror. He placed his hands on his protruding gut and shook his head, then continued on into the room where he turned on the television and sat on the end of the bed.
Khamel slowly and very quietly slid the closet door open just far enough so that he had a good view and direct line of sight at Gavin Vercheck. He fired. His shot was true and Gavin Vercheck fell forward and landed on the floor. Khamel went over to the bedside table and laid his weapon down, then reached into the nightstand and retrieved the recorder he had placed there earlier. He held it to his ear, pressed play and listened.

Day 13

The Riverwalk: Khamel stepped off the trolley dressed just as she had described, in a long-sleeved-button-down shirt and wearing a red cap. He had stuffed a small pillow under his t-shirt making him appear heavier than he actually is. He wore black wire-rimmed glasses to complete the disguise. He started making his way through the crowd toward the bandstand where a five-piece band was entertaining, then took a spot on the river side and waited.
Kate was hidden by a large pillar that supported the pavilion. She was scoping the mass of people for Gavin. She finally spotted a red cap heading for the bandstand, to take up a position exactly where she instructed. She left her location and started walking to him. When they met, they conversed for a few minutes, then began walking, hand-in-hand, toward the river where the Bayou Queen, a paddle wheel boat, was being loaded with passengers.
Rupert caught site of them from his spot at a refreshment stand. He was well aware that the man she was meeting was not Gavin Vercheck. He had been informed by Ryan earlier that the real Gavin Vercheck had been found dead in his hotel room. No. This person could only be Khamel and he was going to kill her. He threw his drink in the trash and began following. He saw them get in line for the Bayou Queen, he followed suit. There was only one passenger between him and them. He kept his eyes on Khamel, saw him reach into his right trouser pocket and pull out a gun and slide it under his shirt. Oh shit, he thought. He's going to do it right here. He couldn't let that happen. He immediately retrieve his own gun, pushed the woman in front of him aside and place the barrel of his weapon at the base of Khamel's skull and fired.
Khamel's head flew back then forward and he dropped to the ground losing his hold on Kate's hand as he fell. Kate let out a scream at what just happened, then turned and began running away along with the other people. The lone body of Khamel lying face down and spread-eagled on the concrete.

Martin Velmano, a senior partner with the law firm of White and Blazevich sat silently at his desk when his secretary announced Mr. Sneller was on line two. He picked up the receiver and punched the button for that line saying, "what up,"

"Khamel is dead. We don't know who killed him."

"The girl?" Velmano asked.

"She's on the run. We lost her. We'll find her." Sneller hung up.

Velmano got up from his desk and went over to the huge windows that separated him from the outside and gaze at the area four floors down.

Day 14

The Washington Post 10:20am: Castle sat at his desk contemplating his next move when his phone rang, " Castle."

"It's me. There's been another killing. The friend at the FBI was killed this morning in broad daylight, in front of a large crowd."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm in New York. We need to meet."

"Hold on. I can't come to meet you based on what you've told me so far. I'll need some kind proof."

"Like what?"

"The name of the person killed by the car bomb."

"Demming."

"First name?"

"Thomas."

"Where did it take place?"

"New Orleans. I think that should be enough."

"Wait. What was the name of the person who work for the FBI?"

"Vercheck. Gavin Vercheck. That should be enough."

"I'll be on a flight this afternoon."

"You have to follow my instructions."

"I will."

New York City, 5:30pm: Castle knocked on the door to room 2460. It was opened moments later but only as far as the chain would permit. Her face appeared in the opening.

"Did you follow my instructions?"

"Yes."

She removed the chain and let him enter, then replaced the chain. She moved across the room and stood by the window.

"You must think I'm crazy," she said.

"I did. But I checked with a New Orleans newspaper. Demming was killed just as you said. Vercheck was found day before yesterday in his hotel room. They said he'd been dead about ten hours."

"How can that be?"

"You want to talk about the brief?"

"Everyone I've told about the brief is dead."

"I'll take my chances."

"You can't under any circumstances use my name or reveal where or how you got this information until I've left the country."

"Unless I can convince you otherwise."

"You can't."

"Okay if we sit?" She nodded her approval, then took a seat in a chair and curled her legs under her.

"Okay it I use a recorder?" he asked stepping toward the coffee table located in front of the sofa.

"Yes," She answered.

For the next four hours Kate dictated to him her process for gathering the information in the brief, and writing it, then trashing it. She told him about giving it to Demming, who read it. He thought it made a lot of sense, that he would give it Vercheck. She let out a yawn. "Can we call it a night, finish up in the morning."

"Sure," he answered retrieving his recorder and shutting it off. "I'm going to be up most of the night going through my notes while they're still fresh in my head. Call me when you get up." He turned to leave but she called out to him.

"Mr. Castle." He turned to face her. "I haven't had a good night's sleep since this all began. Would you mind sleeping on the sofa? I'd feel safer if you were here."

"No problem."

Castle removed his jacket, then loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. He pulled the otteman over in front of the chair she had previously occupied and sat down. He took out a legal pad and pencil from his case and placed them on the table. He then turned on the recorder and listened.

"For centuries," she started. "A quiet but mammoth battle of nature raged without interference along the coastline of what would become Louisiana. It was a battle for territory. No humans were involved until recent years. Then in 1930 oil was discovered, and the rape was on."

"In 1979, an oil company punched a hole deep in Terrebonne Parrish and hit oil. A lot of oil. The oil company that made this discovery was owed by Victor Mattiece. Convinced he had tapped a major reserve; he began buying land around the capped wells. As the land acquisition sailed smoothly along an odd thing happened. A lawsuit was filed to stop the dredging and drilling. The plaintiff was an obscure environmental outfit known simply as Green Fund…"

"Green Fund filed the lawsuit in the U.S. District Court in Lafayette. A federal judge halted the project pending a trial on all issues.

"The defendants and their legions of high priced lawyers answered with a vengeance. They filed motions by the truckload, and when they were all denied and it was evident there would one day be a trial by jury. Luckily for Green Fund's lawsuit, the heart of the new oil reserve was near a ring of marshes that had been for years a natural refuge for waterfowl. Osprey, egrets, pelicans, ducks, cranes, geese, and many others migrated to it. The brown pelican becoming the hero."

"How so?" Rick asked.

"After thirty years of insidious contamination by DDT and other pesticides, the Louisiana brown pelican perched on the brink of extinction. It was classified as an endangered species, and afforded a higher class of protection. Green Fund seized on the majestic bird, and enlisted a experts from around the country to testify on its behalf.

"When was this?" Castle asked.

"Around 1990." She answered. "The lawsuit went to trial in Lake Charles. It was a bitter trial that lasted ten weeks. Green Fund lost the trial, which was not altogether unexpected. The judge, however, kept the injunction in place for two reasons. First, he thought Green Fund had proven its point about the pelican, a federally protected species. And it was apparent to all that Green Fund would appeal. So the matter was not over."

Castle made notes as he listened."

"What's the status of the lawsuit?"

"From the trial level, it will be appealed to the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals. That appeal has not been perfected, but should be in a month or so."

"Where's the Fifth Circuit?"

"New Orleans. About twenty-four months after it arrives there, a three judge panel will hear and decide. The losing party will undoubtedly request a hearing by the full panel.

"Any idea what the Fifth Circuit might do?"

"None. They haven't seen it yet. It could be reversed.

"Then what happens?"

"Then the fun starts. If either side is unhappy with the Fifth Circuit, they can appeal the Supreme Court."

"How long before the Supreme Court would hear the case?"

"Three to five years."

"Rosenberg would be dead of natural causes by then."

"There would be a different president in the White House. So if you're a friend of Mattiece, and you don't mind killing a couple Supremes, now is the time to do it."

"But why Jensen?"

"He shared one piece of common ground with Rosenberg. Protection of the environment."

Castle stopped the tape and began writing on a motel pad. He started in the lower left corner and wrote the name Garcia. Next he drew a curved arrow and wrote Law firm. He circled. He then drew an arrow above that and wrote Mattiece, He drew a box around it. Another arrow and he wrote White House.

He leaned back in the chair and placed his socked feet on the table. 'This is going to make one hell of a story', he thought as he closed his eyes, and slept.

Day 15
Kate stepped from the bedroom and found Castle asleep in the chair, his left hand supporting his head. His socked feet were propped up on the coffee table among his recorder and tablets. Suddenly his head jerked up. He turned and saw her standing in the doorway.

"Comfortable?" she asked.

"Not really he replied, removing his legs and setting up.

"How about you? Did you sleep okay?" "Better than I have for the past couple weeks."

Looking at his notes he asked. "You said Mattiece hired law firms From New Orleans to Houston. Did he have any in Washington?"

"I can think of two. White and Blazevich and Brims and Sterns. Why?"

"I got a call from someone, said he was a lawyer. He told me he had seen something related to the assassinations. We were supposed to meet but he backed out. He gave me a phony name, but I got his picture.

"How'd you get his picture?"

"That's another story. But if he works for one of these law firms, and we can find him, he could be the verification we need."

"I hope you find him."

"Kate, I need you to go to Washington with me."

"Sorry, I've had enough."

"If you're right about Mattiece, then there's going to be a coverup, and odds are its gonna work."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Last night a made a phone call. I found out hidden under a bunch of other names Mattiece was the biggest contributor to the President's campaign. Along with the article was a picture of Mattiece and the President. The caption read The Presidents biggest and most secretive contributor."

"Now, if your brief is right and it reaches the light of day, then the President has lost any chance for re-election. The President has men on staff that won't allow that to happen. I checked with all my sources the White House, the FBI, the CIA. All of them said the brief doesn't exist, never has. You may be the only one that knows it does. You disappear, so does Vercheck. Is that what Demming would want?"

"Don't presume to know what Demming would want."

"Kate if this goes as high or as deep as we think it does…where can you hide?"

"Go back to Washington," Kate said, then went back into the bedroom closing the door behind her.

Castle gathered up his things and left.

Later that day upon returning to Washington Castle was called into the office of Smith Keen, his editor. Sitting now on a bench in his office Castle listened as Keen told him he couldn't afford to keep him on the pelican brief story. He was sending Castle to Arkansas to cover a judge that is being nominated for the Supreme Court.

"I need more time," Rick said.

"For what? You've lost your ear at the White House, your source at a law firm, and now the girl. It's not your best week."

"You can't take me off this story."

Keen sat back in his chair. "What do you know for a fact. Some guy calls, ttells you he's a lawyer, says he knows something about the assassinations. Now he's cut off all contact with you. That's not promising."

"You can't take me off this story. There's something there, I can smell it."

"Really. What's left? This girl who you say wrote the brief, who you can still get no confirmation on."

"Not yet."

"Correct. And now she's cut off all communication with you. Cutting off communication with you seems to be reaching epidemics proportions."

"They're still waiting on you," came a voice over the phones speaker. "I'm on the way," Keen replied, standing and donning his jacket.

"Everything the girl said about the death of Demming and Vercheck turned out to be true," Castle said, standing himself.

"Didn't the FBI say Vercheck's death was the result of some hotel mugging," Keen replied as he headed for the door.

"That's what they told me." Castle said.

Castle continued to follow Keen giving him everything he knew to be true, trying to convince him. Keen refuting him at every turn. Finally as they reached the elevator Keen gave in, somewhat, said. "If you can verify what you have just told me I'll keep you on it. In the meantime you should be making reservations for Little Rock."

The elevator door closed.

Castle returned to his desk. He was just about ready to call for reservations to Little Rock when his phone rang. "Castle," he said into the receiver.

"It's me she," she said. "I'm in Washington. Meet me at the Georgetown Law Library."

Dial tone.

Rick enters the Georgetown Law School Library. Walks down through the center aisle between the multitude of shelves holding legal books. He spots her sitting at a table with several books spread out in front of her, and smiles. He takes a seat across from her. She lifts her head and sees him smiling and she smiles back.

"I thought I'd never see you again," he said.

"I was thinking the same about you. But then I remembered some of the things you said and I knew I had to end this. So here I am."

"What have you been doing?"

"Coming up with a way to discover Garcia's true identity.

They go back to her hotel room where she makes a call to the schools accounting department. She claims to be with White and Blazevich, and they are having computer problems and she needs the names, addresses, phone numbers and social security numbers of all the students that clerked with White and Blazevich the previous summer. She eventually gets a list of seven names. Five of the names have listed phone numbers.

"I'll start by calling these five names. You can go to registration and get class schedules for the other two."

As Rick got up to leave Kate was making her first call. No answer. "Hold on," she said. "Get Edward Linstrom also. I'm not getting an answer."

The woman at the registration office was very helpful and gladly got two of the three schedules he requested. The schedule for Linstrom, however, was unavailable since he was no longer registered.

Rick turned and left. He was just getting to the exit when he heard his name called. Turning around he was approached by a student. He remembered the student as having been in the registration office the same time as him.

"I know Edward,' the student said. "He sort of dropped out of school for a while. Personal problems."

"Do you know where he's at?"

"His parents put him in a private hospital. He's being detoxified."

"Which hospital?"

"Parklane. In Silver Springs."

Castle placed a hand on the boys shoulder." I won't tell anyone you told me."

"He's not in trouble, is he?"

"No. I promise."

Parklane Hospital
Rick entered the hospital first. He located the administration office and went in and introduced himself to the woman there. He told her he wished to see Edward Linstrom and asked what room he was in.

"He' in room 22, but visitation is limited to the weekends," she replied.

"The law school gave me permission to see him so I could ask him a couple questions. It shouldn't take more than five minutes.

"I'm sorry they told you that," she said. "You see we run this hospital, and they run their law school."

"Can I see the administrator?"

"I'll see if I can find him," she answered getting out of her chair and leaving the room.

When she left Rick signaled Kate, who was standing at the outer door, to come in. As she past the admin office Rick flashed two fingers twice giving her the room number, then pointing up indicating it was on the second floor.

Kate scurried to the staircase taking them two at a time. Going at a brisk walk, she quickly located room 22. His name was on door, Edward Linstrom. She knocked gently but didn't wait for an invite, just opened the door and walked in. She saw him sitting on the bed in tan cargo shorts and gray t-shirt. She went to his bedside and introduced herself. She then produced a photo of Garcia and handed to him.

"Do you recognize this man?" she asked. "He's a lawyer at White and Blazevich. You clerked there last summer."

Edward took the photo and stared at it. After a few moments he mumbled, "what's his name?"

"That's what I'm hoping you can tell me," Kate said.

Edward took another look at the picture, then said, "He worked in the oil and gas section." He shut his eyes tightly and grimaced. His eyes popped open and he looked at Kate. "Morgan, his name is Morgan. His first sounded something like Charles, but that's not it. It begins with a C though."

"Thank you. You don't know how helpful you've been."

"When you walked in and I saw you, I thought I was hallucinating again."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh no. I'll take hallucinations like you any time."

Kate gave him a smile. "You take care and get better," she said as she turned and left.

Back in the hall Kate was instantly met by a security officer. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Visiting my brother," she answered.

"And who is your brother?"

"Edward Linstrom."

Just then Edwards door opened and he stepped out.

"Is this your sister?" the officer asked.

Kate had a pleading look on her face as she and Edward looked at each other.

Without hesitation Edward said, "Yes, she is, so leave her alone.'"

"Mom will be up on Sunday," Kate said.

"You come back real soon, sis."

Kate turned and walked back to and down the stairs, then out the door and to the car where she got in on the driver's side. Rick ended his conversation with the administrator and proceeded after her. Once in the car Kate put it in gear and drove away.

Rick reached in the back seat and retrieved her notes. "Curtis Morgan. Works in oil and gas."

"So now what" Rick?"

"We go pay a visit to him," he replied.

"Okay. But I think I should go alone," Kate said. "I'll pretend to have an appointment with him."

"Okay, but we need to change your appearance. Make you look a little bit older and I know just the person to do it."

At 4:50pm Kate entered the building at 1295 Pennsylvania Avenue. The building that housed the law offices of White and Blazevich. The security officer directed her to the second floor. When she arrived at the second level she strode over to the information desk and spoke to the woman sitting there.

"Hello. I'm Christiana Bale, and I have a 5:00pm appointment with Curtis Morgan."

The woman gave her a concerned look. "Please have a seat Ms. Bale. I will be back momentarily." She then got up and left.

Kate took a seat. She was able to observe the woman through the glass walls that separated other rooms throughout the floor. She saw the woman entered another room where a meeting was being held. She leaned over and spoke to one of the men who rose and made a phone call.
Several minutes later a man approached Kate and said. "Ms. Bale, I understand you have an appointment with Curtis Morgan."

"Correct," Kate said, standing.

"When did you make the appointment?"

"Two weeks ago?" she answered.

"And what was the appointment for?"

"Obviously I'm looking for an oil and gas lawyer."

"I'm sorry but Mr. Morgan is dead."

This momentarily shocked her but she was able to maintain her composure and asked. "Why didn't someone call me?"

"Because we have no record of your appointment."

"What happened?"

"He was shot during a mugging a week ago. Is there someone else we can get to help you.?"

Suddenly a second man appeared and without so much as an introduction said, "Do you have some identification?"

Kate spun on her heels saying, "With the way I've been treated I think I'm better off going somewhere else." Completing her tirade as she reached the stairs.

Kate reached the bottom step and in a ultra-fast walk made for the exit. She lurched through the doors while maintaining her speed, then nearly crashing into two men coming her way. She reached the car that Rick had waiting for her and hopped in.

Kate was nearly in tears as she said, "They killed him. They killed him."

Rick threw the car in gear and speed out from the underground parking garage. As Rick turned onto the street, Kate turned her head toward him.

"I can't breathe," she was saying while gasping between each word.

Rick spotted an alleyway ahead and turned into it, stopping when he reached an open area. Kate got out and began removing her jacket. Rick threw the car in park, got out and raced around to her. He took her in his arms as she collapsed into him.

They were back in Kate's hotel room. She was lying on the bed Rick sitting on the edge with the phone receiver in his and punching in numbers. "Smith Keen, please, it's Rick Castle," he said when the receptionist answered. "Rick Castle on line one," she said over the phones intercom.

"It's about time I heard from you," Keen said.

"We found Garcia. He's dead."

"What! When."

"Six or seven days ago. His real name is Cutis Morgan."

"I remember that story. He was killed in a mugging."

"Look it up. I need his wife's name and address. We'll go visit her tonight."

"We? Is the girl with you?"

"Yes."

"How'd you find Garcia?"

"Long story. I'll tell you later."

"Garcias dead. This is weird."

"It's more than weird. The kid knew something and they knocked him off."

"Do you think you're safe?"

"Who knows."

"What if they're watching his house?"

"We'll have to take that chance."

"Beverly Ann Morgan. 415 Pleasanton Way, Alexandria. You be careful, and don't let anything happen to the girl."

"I won't."

The Morgan house was in a neat suburb of Alexandria. There were three cars in the driveway. Rick rang the doorbell and watched the street. Nothing suspicious. An older man opened the door slightly. "Yes," he said softly.

"Hello, I'm Rick Castle with the Washington Post, and this is my assistant (nodding his head at Kate). We'd like to speak with Mrs. Morgan."

"She's not see anyone, so just leave."

"Who is it, Dad?" A frail voice said.

"Just another reporter."

"Mrs. Morgan. Rick Castle of the Post. I just have a view questions. I promise we won't take long."

"Let them in, Dad."

"Come with me. We can talk in the study,"

"Mrs. Morgan…" Rick began but was instantly interrupted.

"Please call me Beverly." She said, then immediately began talking.

"He was killed a week ago tonight. I thought he was working late, which was not unusual. They shot him and took his wallet, so the cops couldn't identify him. Then I saw on the late news where a young lawyer had been murdered downtown, and I knew it was Curtis. Don't ask me how, I just knew."

"Did you know he called me?" Rick asked.

"No. I didn't."

"He told me had seen something in regards to the Rosenberg and Jensen assassinations. And I don't believe he was killed by muggers."

"You're saying my husband was killed because he knew something about those assassinations."

"Yes, Beverly, I am."

"I can't believe this," she choked a little, but fought it off. "What do think he knew?" she asked.

"I don't know," Rick answered.

"If he had something to show you, what would it be?" she asked.

"I have no idea."

"Where would he hide such a thing?"

The question was sincere, but a bit irritating. He was supposed to ask the questions. Then it hit him. She was going somewhere with this.

"I don't know. Where would he keep his valuable papers?"

"We have a lock box at the bank for deeds and wills and stuff. I looked through it last Thursday, and there was nothing unusual in it."

"You didn't expect anything unusual, did you?"

"No. But then Saturday morning, early, it was still dark. I was going through his papers in his desk in the bedroom, and I found something a bit unusual."

"What is it?" he asked as warmly as possible.

"It's a key," she said pulling the object from the pocket of her robe.

Rick had a lump in his throat but managed to say, "A key to what?"

"Another lockbox," she answered.

"Which bank?"

"First Columbia. We've never banked there."

"I see. And you knew nothing about this other box?"

"Oh no. Not until Saturday morning. I was puzzled by it, still am. I figured I'd run by when I felt like it."

"Would like me to check it for you?"

"I thought you would ask that. I knew immediately who were when you introduced yourself to my father. I read all your stuff. What if you find what you're looking for?"

"I don't know what I'm looking for. But what if I find something he left behind, and this something to be very, let's say newsworthy."

"Then use it."

"No conditions?"

"One. If it disparages Curtis in any way, you can't use it."

"It's a deal. I swear."

She handed him the key.

Parked in a driveway on the opposite side off the street from the Morgan house sat the man known as Stump along with Mr. Sneller. Stump was wearing a headset and listening in on the conversation between Mrs. Morgan and Rick Castle. When they had all the information they need Stump started the car and drove away.

Day 16

National Mall Park
7:00am: Stump and Sneller were waiting patiently at the designated meeting place. They were joined moments later by Mr. and Mrs. Smith, who would assist in their next endeavor. The elimination of Rick Castle and Kate Beckett, and also destroy anything they found in the lockbox. It was a simple plan. The Smith's would keep watch on the two subjects while Stump located their car and placed an explosive device in it. Just as he had done to the Demming Mustang in New Orleans.

The Colombia Bank
10:00am: Rick and Kate walked out of the parking garage a block down from the Colombia Bank. Sitting across the street from the bank, in a Ford Taurus were Stump, Sneller and the Smiths. They watched as Kate enter the bank while Castle sat down on the concrete ledge that held a lion statute. The Smiths exited the car and crossed the street to followed Kate. Sneller got out and located a coffee kiosk where he ordered a cup and kept his eyes on Castle. Stump pulled into the parking garage to search for the car.

"Safety Deposit boxes?" Kate asked the security officer standing just past the entrance.

"Right down those steps," he answered pointing the way.

"How may I help you?" the woman at the desk asked.

"I need access to a deposit box."

"The number, please."

"616."

"Looks like that box was just rented two weeks ago."

"That's correct."

"I assume you're Mrs. Morgan," she said.

"Yes, Beverly Anne Morgan."

"And your address?"

"891 Pembroke, Alexandria."

"Phone number?"

"703-664-5980."

"Who rented this box?"

"My husband, Curtis D. Morgan."

"And his social security number?"

Kate opened her large leather shoulder bag and pulled out her wallet. (How many wives memorized their husbands social security number?) she opened the wallet. "510-96-8686."

"Very well, Mrs. Morgan. If you'll just sign this card I'll take you back." Ms. Baskin watched as Kate signed, then glanced at it. "Do you have your key?" she asked.

"Of course," Kate said with a smile.

"Follow me, please."

Meanwhile Stump had found the car on Level 4. He backed his car into a space along the back wall, then walked to where their Pontiac was parked. He jimmied open the driver side door and got in, closed the door and set his briefcase on the passenger seat. He opened the case and removed a four inch square by two inch thick metallic box and secured it under the dash. He then connected two wires to the cars ignition system, and pulled out the safety pin. He exited the car and returned to his own vehicle and waited.

Kate rose from her seat and followed the woman through the safes huge round steel and bronze entry. When the woman came to box 616 she inserted he master key and turned it ninety degrees. Kate then inserted her key doing the same, and the box sprung out. The woman removed her key and left. Kate pulled the box out and lifted the lid. Inside she found two items, a VHS video tape and a 9 by 12 manilla envelope. She lifted the flap on the envelope and pulled out its contents a couple inches. She read the top few lines. then pushed the papers back into the envelope, and put it and the tape into her shoulder bag. She closed the box and locked it, retrieved her key and exited the safe. As she left the bank Rick joined her and they walked to the parking garage.

Arriving at the car they got in. Kate pulled out the envelope and tape from her bag, placing the bag at her feet. Taking the papers from the envelope she started flipping through them.

"It's a four page affidavit, and it's been signed and notarized."

"Look. It's dated the day prior to the last time he called me." Rick said as started to insert the key into the ignition but Kate stopped him.

"It says here the memo was stuck between some files he had taken from the desk Marty Velmano. It had the name Victor Mattiece on them."

"Let's go we need to see what's on that tape." He inserted the ignition key and began to start the engine but it was being uncooperative and just gave a couple grinding noises.

Kate immediately recognized the sound (it was the same sound she heard before Demming's car exploded). She grabbed Rick's arm yelling at him to stop and get out of the car and run as she was doing the same. They ran to a nearby door but it was locked so they took off running for the opposite end of the level. Suddenly a figure appeared with a weapon pointed at them. He fired but missed.

They dashed between two vehicles to the next lane of parking spaces and continued running, but then a female figure appeared and began shooting. Again they dashed between two cars just as a shot shattered a window on one of the cars. They found themselves staring down at the next level. They climbed over the barricade and dropped to the level below, landing on the hood of a car parked there. They squatted down with their backs against the concrete breathing heavily.

On the level above Mrs. Smith crept slowly and silently to where Castle ad Beckett had dodged. She saw the window she had shattered with her last shot and turn between the two vehicles it. She slowly scanned the area finally picking up their image from the chrome of an outside rear view mirror. She moved forward ready to shoot. Her focus was so intense she failed to notice the car window on her right was down about six inches until suddenly the snarl and head of a Doberman pincher attempted to attack her.

Hearing the ruckus from above, Rick and Kate scrambled to their feet and took off running. They spotted the door to the stairs and burst through it and began heading up. They had gone up two flights when Rick saw someone above with a gun in his hand. He pulled open the door to that level, Level 4, and pushed Kate through, then went through himself just as just as shots were fired.

Stump saw them. They were at the opposite end. He dropped his car in gear and sped down the adjoining aisle and getting ahead of them. His tires squealed as he made the U-turn so that he would be coming straight at them. Rick and Kate immediately spun around and began racing away from him. Stump stepped down hard on the accelerator. He was almost upon them when they made the turn. He spun the steering wheel to the left, the tires squealing louder as they tried to maintain traction but it was of no use and Stump found himself heading for the Pontiac with its doors still open. He slammed on the brakes but he was too close and too late. The collision caused the bomb to explode and the two vehicles erupted in a ball of flames.

Rick and Kate finally made it to the street where they hailed a cab. Rick giving the address to the Post building. Kate still holding the tape and envelope firmly in her grasp.

John Duncan, Financial Editor, for the Washington Post knocked on Smith Keen's door, then entered without waiting for an invite.

"What is it John?" Keen didn't sound like he was in a good mood.

"There's been an explosion in a parking garage down town. Two cars. One a rental registered to Castle. Have you heard from him lately?"

"Not since yesterday. I never should have left him on that story."

"What story is that?"

Keen gave him a look of disgust saying, "See what else you can find out," then picked up his phone.

As he went to punch in a number the trace of a smile crossed his face. He spied coming toward his office none other than Rick Castle, and with him was a girl. They walked right into his office, Rick saying, "Smith Keen, meet Kate Beckett, author of the pelican brief."

"Pleased to meet you, Ms. Beckett. So what's this all about,, Rick?" Keen asked.

Kate set the envelope and tape on the desk. "Verifying that everything in the brief is accurate," Rick replied.

Keen picked up the envelope and removed the contents, then scanned through them. He looked up at Rick and Kate, then punched a button on his phone telling his secretary to get Feldman, the other editors and the Post's lawyer into the conference room, ASAP.

Ten minutes later Rick, Kate, Smith Keen, Jackson Feldman (Executive Editor of the Post), Litsky (the lawyer) and three other editors were assembled. Rick punched PLAY on the remote and the video began.

A young man appeared on the screen and started speaking. "My name is Curtis Morgan. I'm an oil and gas lawyer with the firm White and Blazevich. And if you're seeing this tape, I'm probably dead." Morgan continued by reading the affidavit. He then read the memo that was attached to it.
Sims, Advise client, research is complete-and the bench will sit
much softer if Rosenberg is retired. The second retirement
is a bit unusual. Einstein found a leak to Jensen. The boy,
of course, has those other problems.
Advise further that the pelican should arrive here in four
years, assuming other factors. "It had no signature."

Following a brief pause Morgan began again. "This memo was written by Martin Velmano, a senior partner and delivered to Sims Wakefield, the firm's managing partner. It doesn't mention the clients name, but Wakefield only had one client, Victor Mattiece." Morgan finished with, "Whoever is watching. I hope you can but Mattiece and his conniving lawyers away." The screen went black. Rick pressed the POWER button shutting off the television and VCR.

"Well gentlemen, did we bring you enough verification?" Rick said.

"I say run it." Krauthammer (Feldman's second in command) said, the other editors agreeing.

"How long will it take you to write it?" asked Feldman.

"The brief portion is already outlined. I can finish it up in an hour or two. Add in another for hour for Morgan."

"It's a great story, Rick. Have it written by three. It's almost noon now. Use the conference room and close the door. We'll meet here exactly at three and read the first draft. Not a word." He left closing the door behind him.

"How do you feel?" Rick asked taking Kate's hand in his.

"I don't know. This is the end of the road, I guess. We made it."

"You don't sound too happy."

"I'm happy for you."

"Why are you happy for me?"

"You put the pieces together and it hits tomorrow. It has Pulitzer written all over it."

"I hadn't thought about that."

"Liar."

"Okay, maybe once. But when you got in the car, and told me Garcia was dead, I quit thinking about Pulitzers."

They were quiet for several minutes before Rick spoke. "Well, Ms. Beckett, I've got three hours to write the biggest story of my career. A story that will shock the world. A story that could bring down a presidency. A story that will solve the assassinations."

"A story that will make you rich and famous," she said with a giggle. "You better let me write."

"Would you? I'm tired."

"Go get your notes. And some coffee."

At exactly three the editors came in with their red pencils. It was a long story, and Feldman was busy cutting like a surgeon. Smith Keen scribbled in the margins. Krauthammer seemed to like what he saw. They read in silence. Feldman finished last. He slid his copy to Rick.

"Minor stuff, Rick. Should take about an hour. Let's talk phone calls."

"Just three, I think," Rick said. "The White House, the FBI, and White and Blazevich."

"You only named Sims Wakefield at the firm. Why?" asked Krauthammer.

"Morgan fingered him the most."

"But the memo is from Velmano. I think he should be named," Krauthammer responded.

"I agree," said Smith Keen.

"Me too," said DeBasio.

"I wrote his name in," Feldman said. "We'll get Einstein later. Wait until four-thirty or five before you call the White House or White and Blazevich. If you do it sooner, they may go nuts and run to court."

"I agree," said Litsky the lawyer. "They can't stop it, but they can try. I'd wait until five before I called them."

"Okay," said Rick. I'll have it reworked by three-thirty. Then call the FBI for their comment. Then wait and call the White House, the White and Blazevich at five."

Feldman was almost out the door when he said, "We'll meet here again at four. Stay close to your phones."

4:45pm: "Director Montgomery, Rick Castle with the Post. Thank you for taking my call."

"I know who you are Mr. Castle. Now what do you want?"

"We're running a story in the morning detailing a conspiracy in the assassinations of Rosenberg and Jensen. We're naming Victor Mattiece, an oil speculator, and two of his lawyers here in town. We also mention Vercheck, not in the conspiracy, of course. We believe the FBI knew about Mattiece early on, but refused to investigate at the urging of the White House. We wanted to give you guys a chance to comment."

"Is Jackson Feldman listening?"

"Mr. Montgomery." Feldman said.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes. I may have some background for you."

Click.

4:55pm: Rick punched in the number for the White House. "Cole Fletcher, please. This is Rick Castle with the Washington Post, and it's very important." He waited. The secretary returned with the message Mr. Fletcher was on his way.

"Cole Fletcher," a voice said.

"Mr. Fletcher. Rick Castle with the Post. I am recording this conversation. Do you understand that?"

"Yes."

"We're running a story in the morning. Are you familiar with the pelican brief?"

"I am."

"We have confirmed that Mr. Mattiece contributed in excess of four million dollars to the President's campaign three years ago.

"Four million, two hundred thousand, all through legal channels."

"We also believe the White House intervened and attempted to obstruct the FBI investigation into Mr. Mattiece, and we wanted your comment, if any."

"The White House emphatically denies any involvement with this investigation. The President asked to be appraised of the status of the investigation, but there has been no direct or indirect involvement from the White house. You have received some bad information, Mr. Castle."

Click.

5:00pm: The moment the elevator pinged its arrival and he walked off the newsroom went deathly quiet. FBI Director J. R. Montgomery was a man accustomed to throwing his weight around and watching everyone flinch. Along with him was Kurt Lewis, his second in command. They headed directly for Jackson Feldman's office.

Feldman open the door for the Director and motioned for him to come in, Kurt Lewis followed. The men exchanged pleasantries until Smith Keen closed the door and they took a seat.

"I take you have solid confirmation of the pelican brief," Montgomery said.

"We do," Feldman answered. "Why don't you and Mr. Lewis read a draft of the story? I think it will explain things. We're going to press in about an hour, and the reporter, Mr. Castle, wants you to have the opportunity to comment."

"I appreciate that."

Feldman handed a copy of the draft to Montgomery, who took it gingerly. Lewis leaned over, and they immediately started reading.

"We'll step outside," Feldman said. "Take your time."

5:08pm: Feldman and Keen walked across to the conference room and entered. "You need to call White and Blazevich," Feldman said.

"Waiting on you," Rick responded.

They picked up the extensions. Krauthammer was gone for the moment, and Keen handed his phone to Kate. Rick punched in the numbers.

"Marty Velmano, please," Rick said. "Yes, this is Rick Castle with the Washington Post, and I need to speak with him. It's very urgent."

"One moment, please," the secretary said. A moment passed, and another secretary was on the phone.

"Mr. Velmano's office." Rick identified himself again, and asked for her boss.

"He's in a meeting," she said.

"So am I," Rick said. "Go to the meeting. Tell him who I am , and tell him his picture will be on the front page of the Post at midnight tonight."

"Yes sir."

Within seconds Velmano was on the line. "This is Marty Velmano. What's going on?"

Rick identified himself for the third time, and explained about the recorder.

"I understand," Velmano snapped.

"We're running a story in the morning about your client, Victor Mattiece, and his involvement in the assassinations of Justices Rosenberg and Jensen."

"Great! We'll sue your asses for the next twenty years. You'll be named as a defendant. This will be great! Victor Mattiece will own the Washington Post! This is fabulous!"

Rick shook his head in disbelief at Kate. Feldman and Keen smiled. This was about to be very funny.

"Yes sir. Have you heard of the pelican brief? We have a copy."

Dead silence. Then a distant grunt. Like a last gasp. Then more silence.

"We also have a copy of a memo sent to Sims Wakefield, dated September 28, in which you suggest your client's position will be greatly improved if Rosenberg and Jensen are removed from the Court. We have a source that tells us this idea was researched by the one called Einstein, who sits in a library on the sixth floor, I believe."

Silence. Rick continued. "We have the story ready to run, but I wanted to give you the chance to comment. Would you care to comment, Mr. Velmano?"

"I noticed you waited until five o'clock. An hour earlier, and we could've run to the court and stopped this damn thing."

"Do you deny you wrote the memo?"

"Of course."

"Do you deny the existence of the memo?"

"It's a fabrication."

"There's no lawsuit, Mr. Velmano, and I think you know it."

"You son of a bitch!"

Click.

They had no sooner hung up the phones when Krauthammer walked in with Montgomery and Kurt Lewis. They took seats at the end of the table.

"I believe you know everyone here except for the young lady next to Mr. Castle.' Feldman said. May I introduce Ms. Kate Beckett."

Montgomery gave Kate a smile and said, "So you're young lady that started this broo-hah."

"I believe that would have been Victor Mattiece," she replied.

"I have a statement. For the record," Montgomery said.

Castle pulled his recorder from his pocket and placed it in the center of the table, then turned it on.

"First, the Bureau received the brief two weeks ago. After having several copies made, one was delivered to Cole Fletcher at the White House. Fletcher in turn showed it to the President."

"Did the White House interfere in any way with the FBI's investigation?" Castle instantly asked.

Montgomery gave Castle a 'look', and said, "Off the record."

Castle retrieved the recorder and switched it off.

"Last Monday I was called to the Oval Office where the President discussed the brief with me claiming the press would have a 'field day' with it, then asked me to 'Back off' from investigating it. I agreed but only if he kept his pit bull, Fletcher off my ass about the lack of security of Rosenberg and Jensen. The President said he would see to it. I have a recording of that meeting which I will make public but only if the President denies doing so. I put a halt to the investigation until Vercheck was found dead, murdered in his New Orleans hotel room. I have over a hundred agents scouring this country, plus five foreign ones. We will find Mattiece."

"What happens now?" asked Feldman.

"There will be a grand jury in place by noon tomorrow and indictments by the day afterwards." Montgomery paused and took in a breath before saying, "I'd like a few words with Ms. Beckett. Alone if she's willing."

"Only if Castle stays," she said in return.

Montgomery gave her an approving nod. The remainder of the room rose and left. Montgomery himself moved down to her end of the table and took a seat. Rick and Kate were giving him apprehensive looks.

"So, what's next for you young lady?" Montgomery asked.

"Why should I tell you?"

"Because we can help."

"Who killed Gavin?" she asked.

"That would be the same man you were holding hands with when he lost his brains."

She was afraid to ask. Rick did it for her. "Who was that?"

"Khamel," Kate choked and covered her eyes and tried to speak. But she couldn't.

"This is rather confusing," Rick said.

"Rather, yes," Montgomery said. "The man that killed Khamel is a contract operative hired independently by the CIA. He was on the scene when Demming was killed, and I think he made contact with you, Kate."

"Rupert." Kate said quietly turning her head towards Rick.

"Probably not his real name, but Rupert will do. And if it's who I think it is, he's a British chap, former MI-6, and very reliable. I don't know this for a fact, but I suspect Director Ryan immediately sent Rupert to follow Kate. I think the brief scared Ryan a bit more than the rest of us. He sent Rupert to tail you, in part to watch, in part to protect."

There was a long pause where nothing was said. Finally Montgomery said, "What do you want?"

"I want leave the country, alone."

"Okay, we can help with that," Montgomery said. "First, we get you out of this building, unseen. Second, well put you on my private plane and fly you anywhere you want. However, you will allow me to contact you through Mr. Castle here if, and only if, it becomes urgently necessary."

Kate was looking at Rick as the offer was made, and it was obvious he liked it. She has been afraid to trust anyone since this whole thing began. Maybe it was time she started. She was beginning to trust this man. For the past ten minutes he had been remarkably honest with her.

"Okay," she said. "But the only ones on the plane are your pilots and Rick and me. Thirty minutes after takeoff, I give the pilot a destination."

"The pilot does have file a flight plan," Montgomery said."

"You're the director of the FBI. Set it up," Rick said."

Andrew AFB: The takeoff was smooth. Rick and Kate settled back in the comfortable seats. As the plane began to level off the co-pilot entered the cabin. "We have been told we would receive a destination after takeoff. We will know in the next ten minutes." Kate gave him a knowing nod. He turned and returned to the cockpit.

Kate rested her head on Rick's shoulder and closed her eyes.

"Exactly where are we going, Ms. Beckett," asked Rick.

"Atlanta," she answered.

"Why Atlanta?"

"You ever change planes there?"

"Sure."

"You ever got lost changing planes there?"

"Uh, yes."

"I rest my case. It's huge and wonderfully busy."

Just then the co-pilot reappeared. "It's time, Ms.…."

"Atlanta," she said before he could finish. She never opened her eyes or moved her head, and moments after he was gone she fell asleep.

The landing at Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson airport was as smooth as the takeoff had been. The aircraft taxied to a private hanger. The door/staircase was opened and lowered, and Rick and Kate got off.

They stood waiting when they saw a minivan pulled up. The driver got out and walked to them handing a large manilla envelope to Rick, then returned to his vehicle and waited.

Rick opened the envelope and pulled out a copy of the front page of the Washington Post. It was covered with stories about the brief and the conspirators involved. Rick pointed to the by-line. There were their names, Richard Castle and Katherine Beckett. He looked at her and she smiled.

Kate held out her hand for a handshake. Rick accepted it and they shook. She gave him a kiss to the cheek, then turned and began walking toward the van.

Rick watched her as she walked away but then saw her stop and turn around. She began coming back to him and upon arriving walked into his open arms. Kate wrapped her arms around his shoulders and they held each tight neither wanting to let go.

When she finally started to pull away she whispered in his ear, "I'll call you." She then extracted herself completely and gave him her best smile and headed to the van where after getting in she gave him a small wave.

Rick returned her wave then watched the van drive away. He got back on the plane for the return trip.

The Caribbean
After eight days in the sun she was brown enough and her hair was returning to it natural color. Maybe she hadn't ruined it. On the ninth morning, she packed her new bags and took a ferry to Cruz Bay, twenty minutes away on the island of St. John. She took a taxi along North Shore Road. The windows were down and the wind blew across the back seat. The music from the radio was a mixture of blues and reggae. She tapped her foot to the beat of the music and closed her eyes to the breeze. It was intoxicating.

The driver left the road at Maho Bay, and drove slowly toward the water. He stopped at a narrow, tree-lined road. She got out and paid him.
The house was almost at the point where the mountains met the sea. The architecture was pure Caribbean. It was pure luck finding it and being able to purchase it. It was supposed to be a rental, but the owner had passed away, and the rest of the family didn't want it, so they listed it at well below market value. The price was well within her range so she made an offer and it was accepted.

She walked down a short trail from the road and up the steps to the house. It was a single story with two bedrooms and a porch facing the water, and it was hers. She placed her bags on the floor in the den, and walked to her porch. The beach started thirty feet below her. She watched the waves as they rolled silently to the shore. The bay was secluded by mountains on three sides. The view was magnificent. She quickly changed into a tiny bikini, and walked to the water.

It was almost dark when the taxi finally stopped at the trail. He got out, paid the driver, then watched it drive away. He had one bag, and he eased along the trail to the house, which was unlocked. The lights were on. He found her on the porch, sipping a frozen drink and looking like a native with bronze shin. She was waiting on him, and this was so damned important. He didn't want to be treated like a house-guest.

She smiled instantly when seeing him. She set her drink on the table. She stood and wrapped her arms over his shoulders, and they kissed for a long minute.

"You're late, she said as they held each other.

"This is not the easiest place to find," Rick said. He was rubbing her back, which was bare down to the waist where a long skirt began that covered most of her legs.

"Isn't it beautiful," she said, looking at the bay.

"It's gorgeous," he replied standing behind her his hands on her shoulders. "You're gorgeous."

"Let's go for a walk," she said.

He changed quickly into a pair of shorts, and found her waiting by the water. They held hands and walked slowly.

"Those legs need work," she said.

"They are rather pale, aren't they," he replied."

Yes. she thought, they were pale, but they weren't bad. Not bad at all. His stomach was flat and the arms well developed. A week on the beach, with her, and he'd look like a lifeguard.

"You left early, " she said.

"I got tired of it. I've written a story a day since the big one, yet they wanted more. I was working eighteen hours a day. Yesterday I said good-bye."

"I haven't seen a paper n a week," she said."

"Fletcher quit. They set him up to take the fall. You read about Wakefield?"

"Yes."

"Velmano, Schwabe, and Einstein have all been indicted. Mattiece, of course, has been indicted, long with four of his people. There will be more indictments later. It dawned on me that there was no big cover-up at the White House, so I lost steam. I do think it killed his re-election chances though."

They walked on in silence as it grew darker. She'd heard enough of this, and he was sick of it too. She put her arm around his waist, and he pulled her closer. They were in the sand, away from the water.

"I've missed you," she said softly. He breathed deeply, but said nothing. "Let's go back," she said after a couple more steps.

"Which room is mine?" he asked reluctance in his voice. She smiled at him, and his knees went weak. She took him by the hand and lead him to her chambers.

THE END