Who Are You?

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: Who owns Castle? Not I. Rating: M, in spots. Time: Season seven, more or less.

Chapter Twelve

Bergdahl practically dragged Kate and her team into Gates' office.

"Gates, what the hell has your gigantic cluster fuck of a team done now?"

Gates replied angrily. "They've been doing their jobs under very difficult circumstances. And please remember that the last time you blamed something on me and my people, it was the folks in One PP who were responsible. Now what's the problem?"

Bergdahl looked like she was ready to explode, but managed to control her temper. "I just got a call from the US Attorney. To say Mr. Cruz-Reynoso is not happy would be a colossal understatement. He wants to see us now and he acted like we'd all be leaving in handcuffs. We need to go now." Bergdahl turned on her heel and left. Gates, Kate and her team went after her, but let her get on the elevator by herself.

"So any of you have any idea what this is about?" Gates asked once in the precinct's garage.

They all shook their heads. "Not a clue." Espo said.

Rick and Kate got into her car. "I really can't think of anything we've done that might piss the Feds off. Maybe letting Johnson out of our sight? But it's not like we can just toss him in holding whenever we feel like it."

Kate smiled at the thought of trying to toss Johnson into holding against his will, especially if Bergdahl were to try to do it. "We'll find out soon enough."

For a man with a rather dark complexion, Cruz-Reynoso was a lovely shade of purple when they were all shown into his office.

Bergdahl took the offensive at once. "'Sir, on behalf of the NYPD I'd like to apologize for whatever it was that Captain Gates' people did and I assure you that it will not happen again. I've decided that Internal Affairs will handle this completely as I had suggested in the beginning. Now, sir…."

"Internal Affairs!" Bellowed Cruz-Reynoso. "I got a call for the Attorney General himself. He'd gotten a call from Senator Bollinger who had been called by the Mayor of New York about a report he'd gotten from the god damned NYPD Internal Affairs. And you want IA to handle this? Are you out of your mind?"

Bergdahl was obviously stunned. Her mouth was wide open but nothing was coming out.

Cruz-Reynoso went on, slightly less angrily. "I have talked to the mayor. Captain Gates is now in charge of this case, reporting directly to the Chief of Police and no one else. Since Internal Affairs' part in this is now over, you may leave. Now!"

Still stunned, Bergdahl left. Everyone did their best to remain completely stone faced.

Cruz-Reynoso turned to Captain Gates. "For your information the whole story about a hired gun, and a DEA death squad, is nothing but a god damned urban legend. And it's a legend we've been trying very, very hard to kill. And now it's popped up here in New York and we have to start debunking it all over again. When you return to your precinct, Captain Gates, I'd suggest you have one of your people look at online editions of newspapers for the last six months or so. You can start in Brownsville, Texas and go all the way to San Diego, California. You can even have your people look at Mexican newspapers from Matamoros, all the way to Tijuana. And do you know what they'll find? Not one god damned word about any US agents being kidnapped and left dead in the US. Or any headless Mexicans, or any other kind of dead Mexicans, found just inside Mexico. Because there aren't any. The last US agent to get killed on the border was a Border Patrol officer who was killed four months ago when he ran into some drug smugglers. And before that an ATF officer was killed by some nut in El Paso who was manufacturing his own machine guns. If I hear one more word about this non-existent DEA gunman, I will personally arrest you and this entire team for something. I'll find something in the god damned laws to charge you with if it kills me. Do you understand?"

Everyone nodded and agreed whole heartedly that they would never say another word about this.

Cruz-Reynoso smiled. It was not a reassuring smile. More like one a hungry tiger might smile upon finding a tender young goat. "Now, for the cherry on the crap sundae that's been my day. Against everyone's advice, Senator Bollinger feels that Detective Beckett and her team need to know all about Mr. McCarty, AKA Mr. Johnson. It seems Bollinger won his first election to the city council when Beckett arrested the woman he was running against and then opened a spot in the US Senate for him by arresting Bracken. So, go right through that door. McCarty is waiting for you."

The five walked through the door to find McCarty sitting behind a desk with his booted feet on the desk. He turned the intercom off. "That Cruz-Reynoso can get a bit hot, can't he?" He said with a laugh. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, sit down and be prepared to listen to more of the long, sad tale of Hank McCarty's life."

McCarty waited until they were all seated and began. "When last we met, I was telling you I was at One PP, shuffling paper in Personnel because the NYPD had decided that I was a coward. I volunteered for everything the NYPD had. SWAT, hostage negotiations, the air unit, the harbor unit, everything I could think of. I went to a range in New Jersey that had a combat firing range set up and practiced relentlessly. I also found an ex-Marine sniper there who taught me the basics of being a sniper. I qualified as a SCUBA diver and got an EMT ticket and every time I applied for something, I got called into the captain's office and told that I was never leaving Personnel. Ever."

McCarty laughed. "I did leave Personnel, though. On 9/11. I got to put on my blues and go out and be a cop again. And then it was over and I was back to being Mr. Personnel again."

He looked off into the distance as if trying to remember something. "There are three kinds of people at One PP. Some people love it because they're at the center of the action. They dream of being the power behind the throne someday. Some people love it because they can be a cop, retire after twenty and not have to put up with all of the crap that real cops take. The third kind are mostly like my boss, Captain Schirmer. They hate it. He fell off his granddaughter's first big girl bike trying to show her how to ride it and smashed his hip. He got sent to Personnel so he could do one more year and then retire. And then there was me. I hated being at One PP because I actually wanted to be cop."

McCarty stopped and stared off into space again. "The human mind is odd. When I first got to Personnel, I was positive I wasn't a coward. I dug up all of the reports I could find on the shooting and went over them with a fine toothed comb. Naturally, I didn't find anything that proved I wasn't a coward. I went to the neighborhood where it happened. That was a big help. I'd walk into a store to ask questions and all of a sudden there were a half a dozen gang bangers there and the guy in the store remembered absolutely nothing. And there was this constant little itch in the back of my mind, saying that maybe I was a coward. That all those people were right and I was wrong. Maybe I had run away and my mind was filling in a reasonable explanation so I wouldn't have to face the fact that I was a coward. Those little voices in the back of your mind can be very persistent. I kept asking myself why would three experienced cops faced with a possible guy with a gun send me off for a damned ice cream? Now, I know why they did it, but I didn't back then. The thought that I really was a coward and just refused to accept it stayed in my mind." He slowly shook his head. "Like I said, the human mind can be funny."

"I never ate in the cafeteria at One PP. The place was full of cops, after all, and too damned many of them felt they had to say something to me or about me. So, at lunch time, I'd get on the subway and ride for a few stops and see what kind of food was available. Food with no cops around. I had found this really nice deli and started eating there a lot. One day, I was sitting at a table by the window and I saw a group of young men going into the building across the street. Now this area was strictly a business suits area, real upscale. These guys were out of place. I was about to go over and see if anything was wrong when I saw two Marines walk out, all in their dress blues. After I ate, I walked across the street. Sure enough, the building had an armed forces recruitment station. I went home and did a little research. The next day I went to the recruiting station intending to enlist in the Marines. But, all the Marines were out at some kind of career day or something. I talked to an Army recruiter who wanted to put me in the military police. I turned him down flat. I wanted to be an infantryman. And I wanted to go to Airborne School and the Ranger School. He signed me right up. As soon as I got my orders for Fort Benning, I resigned from the NYPD."

"No one asked you where you were going or why?" Kate asked.

"No one cared." Was the reply. "I got through Infantry School with no problem. I already had all kinds of training they were giving me. I got though Airborne School with no problem and went off the Ranger School."

"Been there and done that." Espo said.

"I know you have." McCarty replied. "I looked into all of your backgrounds. But, to continue, I made it through six weeks of the eight week course and broke my right wrist. I was told that I could re-apply to the school once my physical profile was okay. I was asked if I'd like a transfer to the 173rd Airborne Brigade. The war in Afghanistan had been going on for a year and a bit, but it looked like another one was about to start in Iraq. To make a long story short, I jumped into Iraq on March 23, 2003. I'd finally be able to tell if I was a coward or not."

"We all know you're not." Rick said.

"Yeah, now." McCarty laughed. "My nickname was "Crazy". I was determined to make sure I wasn't a coward even if it killed me. I always wanted to take point and do whatever dumb ass, dangerous thing that needed to be done. I did my tour in the Sandbox and then did another in A-Stan, then in 2006, I found myself at the end of my enlistment and had to decide what to do."

"You got a job somewhere with the Feds?" Kate suggested.

McCarty shook his head. "I reenlisted. I was pretty sure I'd never get a job in law enforcement even with my military background, and to be honest I was pissed off at the police in general and I felt at home in the Army. My nickname is still "Crazy". I went back and got in the Rangers, then Special Forces and now I'm Sergeant First Class Henry McCarty, Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta."

"You're one of the D-Boys?" Espo asked, obviously impressed.

"So they say. I was busy in the KRG, Kurdistan Regional Government, hunting for high value targets of the Islamic State in Iraq and Syria. Oh, the part about being in Syria is not to leave this room. You can see why I was unhappy to be dragged out of a job that needed doing by some Senator to help the NYPD solve some old murders. The IS is doing more murders than that every fifteen minutes or so."

"You haven't been around the precinct lately, Sergeant." Gates said, "Does that mean you have no interest in our case?"

"Not at all. I've been working with some other agencies to see if I can resolve your problem and get back to my job. I may have something for you in a couple of days." McCarty got up and headed for another door. "I'd suggest you go out this door and not go back through Cruz-Reynoso's office. He'll probably be mad at you for another year or so."

When they got to the elevator, McCarty was gone already.

Castle was very curious. "Captain, did you manage to work around IA to get Bergdahl kicked off this case?"

Gates stared at Castle until the elevator door opened on the ground floor. "Mr. Castle, are you actually suggesting that I would use and abuse my position to undermine the chain of command?"

Castle swallowed hastily. "Of course not. Never crossed my mind. It would never….I mean, I know that…."

Gates left the elevator and stared at Castle. "Mr. Castle, do you really think that I got this job solely because of my beauty and charm?" She winked at him and walked off to her car.

"I never thought I'd see that." Ryan said.

"Makes two of us, bro."

Once in Kate's car, Castle turned to her. "Who do you think she called? Someone at One PP? The Mayor or Senator Bollinger? The Attorney General? Who?"

Kate shook her head. "I have no idea and we'll probably never find out. But we do know now that you're not the only person who knows a guy."

Back at the precinct they gathered around Kate's desk to discuss what had just happened. Kate summed it up. "In spite of the changes in command, we're no closer than we were yesterday to figuring this out. We have suspects and nothing that connects them to either of the murders. And we haven't positively ruled anyone out yet."

"Kate," Rick said softly, "We knew how hard it would be to solve a murder this old. The chances of finding witnesses, physical evidence or…"

"I know. I know. I hate not solving cases. I hate knowing there's a killer out there who's gotten away with murder."

"Maybe Johnson will come up with something. "Ryan said, reverting back to McCarty's cover name. "I'll bet he knows guys, too. Probably some that even Castle doesn't know." He turned to Javi. "You seemed really impressed with that guy. Is he that bad ass?"

Espo nodded. "Delta is what they call a tier one unit. Tier two are the Army Rangers, Navy SEALS, Army Special Forces, Air Force and Marine Special Ops. Delta and the Navy's Seal Team Six, or DEVGRU, the tier one units, recruit from there. So you're recruiting from the top one percent of the military and taking maybe one percent of that. They're the elite of the elite. I've known good Special Forces people who washed out of Delta training. It's not just physically tough, you have to be smart enough to learn all kinds of crap: Intelligence stuff, weapons of all sorts, languages, cultures, and you have to think on your feet a lot. They do exactly what Johnson said they do, a lot of anti-terrorism work outside of the US. The man is as bad ass as they come."

"Which still doesn't solve our problem." Kate reminded everyone. She looked at her watch. "It's late. We'll go home and get a good night's rest. Maybe we'll come up with something then."

When they got home, they found Alexis pushing some warmed up left overs around her plate with little enthusiasm.

"Hi, Pumpkin. I can make you some real dinner if you'd like."

She shook her head. "I'm not really hungry. But, thanks."

"Bad day at school? Would ice cream help?"

"School was fine. I had lunch with Vince today. It didn't go well."

Castle was torn. Vince Peake was not the type of man he wanted Alexis to be with, he was entirely too dangerous and in way too dangerous a line of work. On the other hand, he hated to see Alexis upset.

"What happened, Alexis?" Kate asked, sitting down next to the redhead.

"Vince is smart, but he's always been an under achiever. He could be a doctor and a good one. He could do more good as a doctor even if he wasn't in the most dangerous places in the world than he can as some Army medic. He just won't listen to me."

Kate looked at Rick and smiled. "I have some experience with that and things still worked out pretty well."

"I told Vince that dad knew people that could get him out of the Army and he could go to college and go to med school, but he wasn't interested." She sighed. "They're headed back to Georgia. Vince was saying good bye. He doesn't think it's likely we'll ever meet again. Two different worlds was what he said."

Rick sighed. "Things aren't always going to go the way you'd like, Alexis. You'll have to face that."

"I know, but it's just such a waste." Alexis took a bite. "His friends are nice, but so different from anyone I've known. They're pretty smart, but didn't go to the best schools or worry at all about what college they'd get into. Even now they don't think much beyond going to a community college somewhere, maybe."

"Call it a learning experience, then." Kate suggested.

Alexis pushed her plate away. "I need to go study." She headed upstairs without another word.