CHAPTER 4 – RUN
Sierra paid for a room at a cheap "otel" (the 'm' was missing from the neon sign) well off the beaten track. She parked the car and gave her passenger a shove.
Rick groaned as he slowly returned to wakefulness.
"Come on writer boy, you can sleep in a bed now."
He followed her out of the car and upstairs to their room. She opened the door and sighed. A double bed for him and a lumpy sofa for her. Still, she'd slept in far worse places. At least it seemed relatively clean. Rick sat down on the edge of the bed, and Sierra flopped down on the couch to face him.
"So, would you please tell me what the hell is going on?"
Sierra sighed. She would have to tell him something.
"Okay. Remember, anything I say is for your ears only, right?"
"Of course."
"Fine. What do you want to know?"
"Why were you investigating Sophia?"
"The woman who called herself Sophia Turner was actually a former KGB sleeper agent. We thought she had been completely cut off by her country, which was why she was planning an attack which could potentially begin a third world war."
"What attack?"
"Do you know what a linchpin is?"
"It's... a small thing that holds everything together."
"Right. Well, there are a number of linchpins that hold together the USA. Sophia was going to taje one out."
"As in kill someone?"
"Right."
"Who?"
"You."
Rick gasped. "I don't believe you. How am I a linchpin?"
"Do you know who your mother is currently sleeping with?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
Sierra laughed. "Not much – except that he's a high up military commander in charge of, among other things, your country's drones over China."
"China?"
"She already had a patsy to take the blame for your death, someone from Chinese intelligence. Because of your mother's connections, the US would probably end up fighting China. You're quite famous, Mr Castle. Though I find it absurd, a lot of people would be outraged were you to die."
Rick smiled sarcastically at her. "Thanks. You have read my books though. And you didn't let me die. You're British, why do you care?"
"It isn't in British interest for war to break out either. We caught on to Sophia, and since the CIA can't investigate on home turf, my agency decided to be all friendly and send me. Solving everybody's problems with one quick job."
"So you were sent to kill her?"
"I was sent to confirm our suspicions and prevent your death."
"By killing her?"
"I was given the order."
"Stop beating about the bush! Did you kill my girlfriend?"
"I don't know why you're angry about it. She was going to kill you."
Rick groaned. "Spooks, you're all the same. Never giving straight answers, having fake names... I trusted Sophia! I liked her, I cared about her!"
Sierra frowned. "I'm sorry."
"You were doing your job. Why was I kidnapped?"
"It seems she wasn't as friendless as my agency thought. But I have no idea – I thought it was over."
"What, you mean you don't even know what's going on? You bring me here, to the middle of nowhere in a manky hotel with people trying to kill us, and you don't even know what's happening? Christ..."
Sierra groaned. "I'll call my bosses. See what I can find out. Meanwhile, you should get some rest."
"What about you? Aren't you tired?"
Sierra smiled. Always the womaniser, wasn't he?
"You take the bed; if I get a chance I'll nap on the couch but we should really have someone keeping watch. Anyway, I'm used to it."
"What's your name?"
"Sierra."
"That's military code. I mean your actual name."
She smiled ruefully. "If I told you..."
Rick laughed. "Fine, Sierra."
Sierra grinned. "Why are you so happy? I mean, most people who've had a day like yours go utterly mental and start trying to run away or go home or shoot me... You've been remarkably good, helpful even."
Rick winked. "It's fun. I like adventures."
"But I just shot your girlfriend, you were kidnapped, some people tried to kill us... Aren't you afraid?"
Rick sighed. "There comes a point in life, when you're rich and famous, where most things have very little meaning. When I first met you, I was bored and drunk – a state which I had been in for quite some time. Sophia was fun... But I knew she didn't really like me. We were using each other. I'm sad about it, but... well she's dead now."
"You believe me."
"Why would you lie? Plus, you act like a spy. And I am afraid. I just don't care very much. My mother and I aren't close, and apart from her there isn't a soul in the world who cares about me. At least if I die kidnapped by crazy Russians, I'll be doing something cool and exciting."
Sierra made a face at him. "You're an idiot. And you're not going to die."
"Well then. I trust you. If you tell me I'm not going to die, why should I be afraid?"
Sierra wanted to bang his head against the wall. "Go to sleep, Mr Castle. I don't know when we'll have to leave, so get some rest while you can."
"Fine. I'm not an idiot."
"But for a literary genius, you can be pretty thick."
"Literary genius? I thought you said reading my books was a mistake?"
"I was quoting the reviews – I hold the minority viewpoint and prefer Patterson."
"You wound me."
"If you don't go to bed I will."
"Treating me like a child..."
"You are like a child. A nine year old on a sugar rush, completely incapable of taking anything seriously."
Rick laughed. "I like that description." He lay down on the bed.
"Sweet dreams, writer boy."
"Goodnight, Sierra."
He said her name in a mocking way, trying to bully her into telling him something else. She could give another fake name, of course, but she wasn't bothered. He could pull her pigtails if he wanted; she had more important things to think about than babysitting. She had to find out who was behind this and end it so she could finally have a rest. She filled the kettle in the room and made a coffee, then went into the bathroom with her phone.
…
Rick watched his super hot kick ass babysitter disappear into the bathroom, trying to take everything in. Sophia was dead... He was surprised he wasn't more upset, but finding out someone was only with you to try and kill you had a big effect on the way you felt about them. He closed his eyes and focused his ears – eavesdropping was another of his special skills.
Requesting further instructions.
What do you mean, you don't know?
Well do you at least know who's after him?
Bloody negative. I'll show you negative. So what am I supposed to do?
Babysitting. Right. What about investigating?
What? All of them?
Christ... So much bigger than we thought. Victor?
Dammit! I liked him, too. So when will it stop?
Wow, that's wonderful! 'Sending in units when possible' – what does that even mean? What about the CIA or the bureau?
Oh, great. Caught up in sodding US politics again. Can I investigate?
Why not? I have nothing better to do!
But for how long? They'll find us – there were enough to take out everyone in the city in a matter of hours. How many bases did we have?
Jeez.
Right. Tell them to get their bloody skates on. Out.
Rick heard the toilet flush, then Sierra came out of the bathroom. He feigned sleep – he didn't think she believed him though. She went over to the window, then he heard her pull on the door, checking the lock. He heard the creak of the couch as she sat on it, the zip of her bag, the swish of some water, and the click of her glock as she popped out the magazine to check it was full. He imagined her expression, firm, with those big brown eyes that were sometimes almost green... He imagined her settling back on the couch, shifting so as not to irritate her grazed shoulder. He heard a sigh. From the sound of her conversation, they were almost on their own.
She had risked her life to save him – and she had saved him three times in the last 24 hours. He wondered how she was feeling; he hoped she would be okay. On the phone, she had sounded almost desperate. She hadn't been speaking loudly, but motel walls were thin, and he was a good listener. He had heard the cracks in her voice.
…
Sierra watched Rick. He was pretending to sleep. She wondered what he was thinking. She also wondered how the hell she had ended up babysitting some celebrity writer. There were a lot of people after them. It was only a matter of time before they caught up – she hated running. She had joined MI6 so she could be doing the chasing instead. She very rarely looked back to her old life, but that night she found her mind drifting back to the memories she usually kept so well buried. Maybe it was proximity – she hadn't been in New York for a while, and it always jolted her emotions a little. Usually she liked it – if she belonged anywhere, she belonged in that city. But now she was running.
And she was a murderer. She had sworn to protect people; to fight for justice. But was she really any better than the people she was fighting? She had killed because she was told to, because she was ordered to. Sophia was only planning to do the same.
The world was a hard place. She focused on the door, put her walls back up, and forced herself to concentrate on the job at hand. Keep Richard Castle alive – save the world.
