Cat and Mouse
This is my angst version of The Gambit, and Tyson and Nieman are back with a vengeance. I'm sure the writers aren't going to do this based on the spoiler pictures I've seen (and I do look), but the plot bunnies struck with a vengeance.
Author's Notes: Wow, thanks again for the response. I really appreciate it. And thanks for being patient. I was trying to work out a plot point before posting.
All characters belong to Andrew Marlowe, ABC, and Disney. Just playing with them and you.
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Chapter 3 – Small Favors
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Dyson had picked Nieman's picture out of a group of pictures that Ryan and Espo had shown him, saying that she was the plastic surgeon who had made him look like Castle. And the sketch by the forensic artist revealed that the woman at the travel was the now-deceased clone of the DA.
When he was shown the picture of Tyson though, he said hadn't seen him, but wasn't that the producer he had worked for a couple of years ago? The one that Beckett and Castle had asked him about?
It was all here, Beckett thought as she examined the evidence on the murder board like it was a jigsaw puzzle. She just had to put it together and time was running out for Castle. So what did she have?
Andrianne Flowers had been killed earlier in the week in their jurisdiction so that they would catch the case, the official announcement of Tyson and Nieman's return.
The fake DA had met with Castle after he left the conference. She would have gotten Castle's phone then so that they could change the GPS location of it and lead them to the fake Castle.
That man had been killed sometime that morning and then the fake DA Cummins met her demise a little more than an hour ago, about 10 minutes before Ryan and Espo had arrived at the travel agency.
But how had Tyson and Nieman known when the DA was here? And that Ryan and Espo were on their way to the travel agency? And how did they know how Castle was doing now?
"They're watching," she breathed out. "They're watching us and him," she said more loudly this time, catching Ryan's and Espo's attention. "That's how they know when to make their moves. How they knew when the DA was here, when we picked Dyson up, when you were going to the travel agency."
"Here at the precinct?" Espo asked, frowning.
Beckett nodded. "Yes and at the writer's conference. But they wouldn't want to stand out."
"Reporters," Ryan said suddenly, Beckett's comment sparking a memory. "There was a news crew here this morning because they got a tip that something was going on with the case. We almost ran over them getting out."
Beckett nodded. "And several stations are live streaming from the conference."
She quickly walked into the room Tory had set up to monitor social media. "Tory, can you get the security footage from the front of this building this morning? There was a news van parked out front."
"Sure," said Ellis as she pulled up a video. "The WLNY-TV van was out front and…it looks like there was another van parked at front at the same time." She expanded the display to show the license plate of the 2nd van. "The 2nd vans left at 12:16."
"Just after DA Cummins got here," said Beckett. She turned to Ryan. "Run the license plate of the 2nd van and see what pops."
She then turned back to Tory. "What about pictures of when we went to pick Dyson up from the conference?"
Tory nodded. "These were posted a little while ago." She pulled up several that showed Beckett, Espo, and Ryan putting the fake Castle in the back of Beckett's car – the hashtag was #bustedbymywife.
"Look," said Espo, pointing to a van in the background. "That looks like the same van."
"Possibly, but it's too far away to get the license plate," Tory responded.
She flicked another video on. "I did find this – it's a short piece of Castle at the conference that was streamed on WABC. The time stamp is noon."
Beckett blinked several times as she watched Castle talk with the reporter and then wave and head down the sidewalk.
"Ellis – stop there." Beckett looked not at Castle, but at the background.
"Guys, what if Castle walked to the meeting?" she asked. "Paula said he left just before noon. DA Cummins was here at 12:15 and we were talking on the phone by 12:20. He wouldn't have had time to get a cab and then drive someplace. That gives us a 15-minute window."
Beckett walked back to her computer and quickly pulled up a map of the area. She sent it to the printer. Hmmm, maybe it was time to move up to the digital age, she thought as the seconds ticked by as the image was printed.
Ryan rushed back into the room with a picture in his hand that he clipped on the board. "Got it. The license plate in the picture is registered to a Dodge Dakota truck in Queens, not a white van. But if you look closer, you can see that the plate on the van has been altered. The license plate on the van is really DFO0500 and that van was reported stolen 5 days ago."
"So how fast can Castle walk?" Espo asked.
"About a mile in that time," said Beckett as she clipped the map to the board. "In the video, he was heading west."
She marked off an arc on the map. "So this is our search area. Have uniforms canvas the area for the van, but do it quietly. We don't want to spook them. And make sure they don't approach the van if they locate it."
"So what about us?" Ryan asked.
Beckett walked back into the media room. "Tory, are there any vans still parked outside?"
Tory did a quick sweep of the perimeter. "No, just a couple of cruisers and a food truck."
"Thanks," Beckett nodded. "Text me if there are any more pictures of Castle uploaded."
"Sure thing," Tory nodded and then went back to mining the web.
Beckett walked back to the map and divided the search area into 2 parts.
"They might still be watching us." Beckett looked at Ryan and Espo. "Let's get some spare uniforms and join the search. Ryan, you and Espo take the outer perimeter. Velasquez and I'll take the area closest to the hotel. If you see the van, call for immediate backup."
About 10 minutes later, three sets of uniforms walked out of the precinct to waiting patrol cars.
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"You have no idea," the voice breathed against his ear as Beckett' hair brushed against his cheek. No, he really didn't have any idea then, but now he did, he thought as he tried to return to the dream. But whatever was brushing his cheek was rough – irritating – and it certainly didn't smell like cherries.
Castle jerked awake and threw whatever had been brushing his cheek as far away from him as he could manage. It landed with a thud and a scrabbling sound.
He coughed and opened his eyes, trying to remember where he was and what had happened. He started to roll over, only to stop abruptly as pain shot through his abdomen and back. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, clutching his abdomen and feeling warmth on his hands.
That's right, his mind answered through the thick fog it was wrapped in – he had been shot – the DA had shot him.
His befuddled mind came up with two questions. Had the bullets gone all the way through which is why his back hurt also?
And was the DA really so pissed at him for what he had done and then for his trying to worm his way back into Beckett's cases? Is that why she had shot him?
But what had Beckett said when they were on the phone? The DA was there at the precinct with them, not here with him?
His mind tried to grab ahold of another thought that would make sense out of this, but that was short-circuited as the scrabbling sound came closer and Castle opened his eyes, staring into semidarkness as several pairs of glowing eyes lurked behind some boxes in the corner.
Rats or cats, he thought as his survival response kicked in. Just as Beckett had said about the tiger, he hadn't gone through what he had gone through in the last couple of months to end up as the main course on the dinner menu.
All he had to do was get out of this place and get help, which might be easier said than done. Surely Beckett and the other were looking for him – maybe he could lay here and just wait for them…
The scrabbling sound caught his attention again as he started to drift off. Nope, waiting wasn't an option unless he wanted to end up as kibble 'n bits.
Castle took as deep of breath as he could and then, holding one hand against his abdomen, he carefully pushed himself into a sitting position with his other hand, catching himself as it slipped a little in the pool of blood under him. Oh, that's not good, he thought – he was probably a quart low based on the size of the puddle.
He closed his eyes for a minute as he swayed, fighting the darkness on the edge of his vision and the rolling waves of nausea.
Phone, he thought – where was his phone? He could call for help. He had had it in his hands and then dropped it when he had fallen.
He slowly looked around for it but didn't find it. The DA must have taken it, but for what? A souvenir? Surely she wasn't a rabid member of his fan club who had shot him just to take his phone? Even that didn't make sense to him.
But she had left the gun behind – he had been lying on it, which is where the pain in his back came from. Thanks goodness for small favors, he thought as he reached for the gun and put it in his jacket pocket. Beckett would need this for evidence.
Okay, next move, he thought as he looked over at a door that was slightly open, a streak of daylight showing around the crack.
His only question at this point was could he stand up and make it to the door without passing out?
Well, there was only one way to find out and he wouldn't if he just sat there while he bled out.
It was a struggle, but he managed to scoot his way over to several boxes stacked by the wall and carefully pull himself up using those for support, pausing as he stood on wobbly legs to catch his breath. With one arm firmly supporting his abdomen and the other hand against the wall, he slowly shuffled his way to the door, his awareness narrowing to tunnel vision as he pressed on to reach his goal.
When he finally did, sweat dripped from his forehead and trickled into his eyes. He was sure he looked affright because he used the back of his jacket sleeve to wipe his face off several times during the trip and now his face was also sticky with blood. Yeah, if he had his phone, he could take a selfie – or call for help and Beckett would come rescue him…
Castle carefully pushed on the door to make sure it wouldn't open too fast and dump him unceremoniously on the ground because he was sure he would never be able to get back up. He slowly stepped outside as a crack of thunder sounded and rain drops started to pelt down.
This wasn't the way he had come in – he was now standing on a loading platform in an alley at the back of the building. He slowly looked towards one end of the alley where he could hear street noise, one thought present in his mind – he had to reach there before he passed out.
Castle leaned against the wall and slowly inched his way down the few steps, leaving a bloody trail in his wake. He stumbled slightly as he reached the bottom and then straightened. He could do this, he thought as he looked at the end of the alley that was several yards away. He had to do this. Failure was not an option.
He took two steps away from the wall and then paused as another noise reached through the fog surrounding his brain.
Castle slowly turned to look over his shoulder at the other end of the alley through the rain.
A black van sat there, the driver revving the engine every few seconds.
So that's what Beckett had been trying to warn him about on the phone, his brain said as he finally made the connection as he watched Tyson and Nieman watch him.
The engine revved again and Castle knew that he wouldn't make it to the end of the alley.
So he did the only thing he could think of, thanking whatever god, universe, or just plain luck that made the fake DA leave the gun behind and praying that there were several rounds in it. He straightened as best he could, pulled the gun out of his pocket, aimed it at the windshield, and began firing.
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"Nothing yet," Epso said into his phone as he talked to Beckett from under an awning. He really hated canvassing in the rain. "The unis finished their preliminary canvas and didn't spot the van. They may have changed the license plate – maybe even the color—"
He was suddenly interrupted by the sound of gunfire coming from an alley about a block away.
"Beckett, is Castle carrying?" he shouted as he and Ryan took off running towards the sound, quickly drawing out their pieces.
"No," Beckett replied. "He decided not to get a permit."
"We've got gun shots coming from an alley," Espo yelled as they reached the alley and then had to quickly duck back out of the way as a black van sped past them in reverse into the street, careening out of control on the slick pavement.
"Check the alley," Espo yelled at Ryan. "I'll get the van."
Espo started in the direction the van had gone in, only to pause for a second as a cement mixer broadsided the van, sending it careening into an armored car, effectively pinning the van between the two vehicles.
Ryan carefully approached the alley, gun in hand, and glanced around the corner in time to see Castle slump to the ground like a marionette whose strings had been cut.
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