Close Encounters 17
Kate closed her eyes, breathed through it.
"Detective Beckett?" Captain Gates called her name.
She took a half-second to just get it together again, and then she opened her eyes. "I need to - stand up. My ribs are..."
Gates was already getting to her feet and lifting Kate up with her; she was hardly as strong as Castle and the movement pulled on Kate's torso badly enough to make her grit her teeth.
"Let me go get you some kind of pain medication," Keirce said, shoving back from the table. "I'm pretty sure my partner has muscle relaxers in his drawer from the time he threw his back out."
She didn't have a chance to say no; she couldn't possibly take prescription medication, let alone an expired dosage for a male. She vaguely remembered the doctor saying something about pregnancy-safe muscle relaxers if the pain got bad enough, but Kate hadn't wanted to risk it. Not at three weeks, not so fragile.
She couldn't take Keirce's partner's pills. But how to explain without arousing suspicion in front of Maine, she had no idea.
"Beckett, here, you want to lean against the wall?" Gates was leading her towards the far side of the room, the holding cell where they'd processed her fingerprints and started the paperwork.
Maine was watching her impassively from the doorway.
"Thanks, Captain," she said, letting out a breath as her spine touched the wall. It was agony, and she couldn't believe how much more it hurt after only a few hours in custody, unable to lie down. Plus they'd been required to handcuff her again after her fingerprints and mug shot were taken, and it constrained her ability to shift positions, ease her bruised ribs.
This was going to be a bitch. And she wasn't sure how fast she could be if she needed to defend herself. Thankfully, Gates was still in the room with her.
Something buzzed and Gates released her arm, moving for her pocket. Maine stood up straighter, eyes intent on the captain, but Gates pulled out her phone and answered.
"This is Captain Gates."
Beckett felt her heart pounding suddenly in her chest, too hard and knocking against all her bruises. Her hip ached as she leaned against the wall, her ribs constricting her breath, and suddenly Gates frowned.
"Right now, sir?" Her face cleared, like a woman being given sharp commands. "Yes, sir. I understand. Can I ask why?"
Gates's jaw tensed and she half-turned away from Beckett, ducking her head.
"What about representation? She's an NYPD detective who has been risking her life for-"
Gates stopped, went still. Kate couldn't help seeing the slow grin climb across Maine's face, and she went cold.
"Yes, sir. I'm on my way." Gates lifted her hand and angrily thumbed off her phone. "Beckett. I've been recalled back to the station for an all-hands-on-deck. But the Chief of D's assures me that your lawyer is on his way."
Honestly, Beckett had no idea who her lawyer was; she and Castle hadn't gotten that far. Maybe her father had found someone.
"Hang in there, Detective Beckett," Gates said fiercely. "I'm going to insist on your getting a union rep. I'll be back."
Gates moved for the door and Maine opened it for her, a nod of his head. Kate straightened up from the wall, trying to stand on her own, trying to look stronger than she felt.
Maine shut the door after Gates, and now it was just the two of them.
Kate rocked onto the balls of her feet and didn't take her eyes off of the man.
The mercenary.
She had to force herself to keep her hand away from her stomach, a pretense of protection for the third, unknown presence in the room.
Maine smiled that slow, predatory smile.
The Director won't grant the request without evidence. Can you forward me everything you have on record?
Castle gripped the edge of the cafe table and dug his elbow into the wood, staring at the message on his phone.
"Yo, Castle. What's he say, man?"
Esposito crowded in close and knocked shoulders with him, but Castle gave over the phone, pressed his palms flat to the table. "Ren," he croaked. He had to stop and shake his head, get it together. "Reynolds, can you please send your testimony to the Director's secretary? It's Marjorie Buchman. You know her."
"Yes," Reynolds said carefully, his face concerned. Castle knew he could see it all there, the precariousness of their situation.
"The Director needs proof?" Esposito growled, practically slamming the phone back on the table. The entire coffeehouse went still, people looking back at them, and Castle gritted his teeth.
"How about we take this party elsewhere?"
"It's not exactly secure," Ryan pointed out.
Reynolds was typing away on the laptop, but he lifted his head. "Give me five minutes to send this, and then we can move."
Castle folded his hands carefully and took a breath, but the looming sense of dread was heavy over him. Beckett alone in that federal building with only Captain Gates in her corner and Maine with access.
Access. Holy fuck, this wasn't good. If he thought about it too long, he'd do something really stupid. Like break her out of there and lose all hope of ever coming back home.
He'd never thought he'd be weighing her life against the future, never thought he'd have to balance the now with what might happen then. She could die in there, but if he did something drastic, he ruined her life and potentially put them in a worse situation.
And not just Kate this time.
He wondered if this was how it had felt to her, heading off to meet Black because she couldn't maintain that balance between Castle's life now and what might happen to him in the future.
It fucking sucked, and he didn't think he could do it much longer.
"Okay," Reynolds said quickly, standing up from the table. "I'm done. Let's roll."
The phone vibrated on the table and Castle snatched it up. "McCord," he breathed in relief. "She's inside." His phone went off again and he checked the second message. "And Mason has been allowed through security as her lawyer. Okay, okay, we're in business, guys."
"I've found a conference room in the hotel at the corner," Ryan cut in. "We can reserve it for three hours - before a wedding reception starts at four. They've got wireless and I can create a secure IP nested within theirs."
Castle clutched the phone and nodded his thanks, unable to express it. He stood up with the guys and they all headed for the door.
He'd get the Director all the evidence he needed and then they'd get Beckett out of there.
Beckett let out a short breath when the door opened and Maine had to step aside; McCord came into the room and gave her a nod, but her eyes flicked to the man. Is that him?
She knew. McCord knew. Something, at least.
Beckett tried to signal affirmation but she sank back down to the chair at the table in real weariness, the relief rushing through her.
"Agent Keirce is quite the fan," McCord smirked at her. She glanced to Maine and narrowed her eyes. "Can we get some privacy? She's not going anywhere."
"No," Maine said shortly.
The door opened again and Keirce came inside just in time to hear the tail end of the question. "Hey, man. Scram. We're good. Protocol says two agents in the box, and there are two of us now."
Maine glanced slowly between McCord and Keirce, making it plain that he felt that was completely unacceptable.
"Her lawyer's on the way up," Keirce added. "Go find him, escort him inside."
Kate gripped the edge of the chair, but Maine finally left through the still-open door. She let out a shaky breath and closed her eyes, felt Rachel's hand at her shoulder.
"Detective Beckett, I couldn't find those pills. But I got some tylenol. Hope that helps." He thumped a water bottle down on the table and the pain reliever clunked as it hit the metal. She blinked and reached slowly for the water, the chain of the handcuffs rattling.
McCord grunted something and moved to grab the tylenol. "Let me get that for you-"
"No," Kate cut through, snagging the bottle of tylenol out of McCord's reach. She had to hold a breath as the sudden movement made her ribs flare, but she dragged the bottle to herself. "I can do it."
She knew she sounded like a child, but there was something to reasserting her independence, her control over this whole thing.
McCord didn't protest.
Kate took the tylenol, four in one go, and sucked down half the bottle of water. She kept it cradled in her lap between her cuffed hands, knowing that she had to stay hydrated, healthy, but not sure when she'd get the chance to drink water again.
Since she'd told no one she was pregnant.
It was a very fine line, this tenuous balance. Today's decisions affected tomorrow's chances, and if she wasn't careful, smart about this, there might not even be a little wolf whose future she was protecting so fiercely.
We could start again.
But this was the child of their forgiveness, their desperately broken but tender moments in the Congo when love had actually overcome everything.
This was hope, and she needed it as much as Castle did. She needed this to survive.
The door clicked open and Kate lifted her head to the newcomer, expecting Maine with some excuse to get her alone.
But it was Mason.
Mason.
Hope. Here it was, striding into the room with all of that bluster and swag she remembered from the man. She pressed her lips together and tried not to let it show on her face.
"I'm Rowland Phillips, legal counsel for Detective Beckett." He offered his hand to Keirce and the agent rose to shake, nodding towards the chair he'd vacated.
"Grab that one. I'll bring another one in here."
Keirce headed for the door and now Kate saw Maine was standing there, waiting for his chance. When Keirce left to get another chair, Maine slipped inside.
Mason blocked his way, not sitting down, settling his briefcase on the table before Kate. She didn't know why, but Mason's stupid little power play made her feel better.
"Your husband sends his regards," Mason said in a clipped accent. "He told me to tell you that he understands the ramifications of your situation, and he's working tirelessly in your defense."
She smiled brightly, and even though Maine had finally stepped inside and gotten his eyes on her again, the smile stayed firm.
Castle knew about Maine; she didn't know how, but Mason was giving her a clear and confident acknowledgement.
Castle was going to get her out of here.
Castle shifted in the uncomfortable metal chair, the plastic cushion squeaking under his weight. Ryan shot him a look like maybe Castle had let one, and Castle narrowed his eyes at the man.
"What?" Ryan squeaked. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Nothing," he growled. "Reynolds, you hear anything yet?"
"No," Reynolds said tightly. "But I'm logging in again to check."
Esposito moved away from the door of the ballroom and crossed his arms over his chest, keeping lookout for them. Mason had texted to say he was inside the holding room with Kate and she looked fine, if bruised and stiff. She'd gotten his message.
Castle glanced to Reynolds again and the man was on his smartphone, hooked up to the network that Ryan had appropriated for their use. The hotel's wireless was now technically 'down' - actually, Ryan had just made it an invisible, password-protected network - but Espo was making sure no one had pinpointed their location in a search for the cause.
Ryan had snorted when Castle suggested they'd be found out.
"Marjorie emailed me back," Reynolds said quickly. "Director's set up a time. We got ten minutes."
"Ryan-" Castle started.
"I'm on it," Ryan said, his head down as he typed on the computer's keyboard. He made a noise, smirked, and then turned the laptop around so Castle could see the screen. "I'm in. Your skype session awaits."
Esposito grunted. "You did not just skype the Director of the CIA."
"No," Ryan huffed. "Seriously, man?"
"You said it," Espo growled.
"Because the CIA doesn't have better apps than that?"
"You were the one who said-"
"Boys," Castle silenced them. "Ryan, is it this one?"
"When the Director gets on, you'll see this light up green. Just type in our access code."
"It's today's, right?"
"Today's activation code, yes."
Castle nodded and stared at the application on the laptop - a simple black and green screen whose basic functions included communication with their foreign stations across the globe. Ryan had piggy-backed the system to give Castle a secure connection to the Director of the CIA.
The cursor flashed green and Castle sat up straight, typed in the activation code - the cipher that changed every week and allowed the CIA to communicate without fear of their intelligence being compromised.
The black and green screen seemed to freeze, and then the camera built into the laptop winked on with its green light. The Director's hands appeared first, and then Castle could see Marjorie adjusting the view for them.
"Agent Castle," the Director said. He had an imperious air, sitting at his desk with the camera's lens somewhere below him so that Castle seemed to be looking up at him.
"Director," Castle said. "Thank you for hearing me out."
"I have five minutes for you, Richard, and that's only because your father and I were friends."
Castle stiffened. "Did you read Agent Michael Reynolds report?"
"Of course. That's why I'm here. Your father snowed me, it seems, and I don't take kindly to being duped. My secretary says all the women at the Agency have known he was a cad."
"I'm sure cad is a nice way of saying it."
"I said a son of a bitch," Marjorie interrupted, ducking her head into the screen. "Don't let my husband fool you."
Castle saw Ryan's jaw drop, but he realized he had actually known that. Marjorie had been the Director's secretary, and then his mistress, and then finally his third wife. Probably because Marjorie didn't let anyone talk back to her and she had a fierce and protective loyalty to the Director; they'd been married over a decade now, at least.
"Agent Castle."
"Yes, sir. Right." Momentarily, Marjorie's fire and determination had actually felt like home, like his own wife, and it had poured hope into him. "I won't get into all the ways that my father has been - ah, a cad, we'll call it - but I definitely will say he has his own agenda. And part of that agenda includes killing my wife."
"I've read Reynolds report, what he did on that island - and to be honest, Richard, not even I knew that listening station had been reactivated. When I assigned Black to shadow Beckett in Mayak, I assumed he was the second best choice. After yourself naturally. Looks like that was the last person you wanted out there with her."
"Absolutely the last," Castle growled. "And it was - not pleasant. I thought we had a tentative truce, a mutual blackmail going on, but he's had his own plan all along. Which is why we really need to get Beckett back in CIA custody."
"This man who's posing as an FBI agent-"
"Maine."
"Do we know this is his real name? I need some intel here, Castle."
"No, sir," Castle said tightly. "No ID yet."
"Get me an ID."
He squeezed his hands into fists and tried very hard not to lose it. "Sir, I really need to get-"
"I need an ID before I can justify burning these bridges. You know the FBI and the CIA don't get along. To do this I've got to call in favors that I will never get back. I will actually owe the FBI. And that's dangerous."
Castle shot a look to Ryan but Ryan gave him a shrug of his shoulder. Reynolds didn't look any more confident in their ability to ID Maine either.
Maine and Deleware. Couldn't be their real names, but the fact that they were both using states' names as covers meant maybe they'd been connected in some way back there.
And maybe they could get an ID from that.
But, fuck, if Maine had been soldier-brothers with Deleware, then Kate was in serious trouble.
Because Castle had ripped out Deleware's throat with a knife.
"Sir," he said. "I'll get you that ID. Put the paperwork through right now - I swear I'll make the ID."
The Director steepled his fingers together and studied Castle for a long moment.
"Preliminary paperwork, yes," the Director finally said. "Finalizing it though? I'll need an ID - something - that I can bring to the FBI and rub in their damn noses."
Beckett was upright and pacing the narrow room when the door opened again. Keirce came inside with a file - Kate's file, it looked like - and he held the door open. McCord stood and crossed her arms over her chest; she didn't seem to be happy.
Kate wondered what should have happened by now that had Rachel glancing to Mason with that tight wtf on her face.
"Time to go. Holding cell, sorry." Keirce actually did look sorry and Kate shook her head, gave the agent a small smile.
"I understand."
"Better than in the Zoo lockup, right?" He nodded for her to go ahead of him and Kate stepped out into the hallway only to run right up against Maine.
He'd done that on purpose, she thought, stumbling backwards and losing her balance as her bruised ribs refused to keep her upright. She grunted in surprise, but Mason was right there, catching her, easing her to a soft landing against his chest.
Soft being a relative term.
"What's going on?" Keirce said sharply to Maine. "What was that?"
Maine gave her a dark look and turned to lead the way down the hall. Kate shook her head and Mason let her go as well.
"Nothing," she told Keirce. "Ribs are bruised and I lost my balance."
Keirce didn't look like he exactly believed her, but Kate kept her face passive and started walking down the hall after Maine. Keirce followed and finally overtook her, and Mason was so close that he was able to keep two fingers on her elbow.
She didn't need it, but it was a nice gesture.
She heard McCord whisper something to Mason but the covert spy gave the woman a severe look and she stopped.
So there was supposed to have been a different step, an event that hadn't occurred. Kate wondered what.
Maine had the door to the holding cell opened and Keirce was standing beside it. He gestured her inside and Beckett went slowly, her ribs and her hip aching constantly now. The cell had a cot inside, a small latrine without a privacy screen, and the door held a window to see out into the hall.
It was better than most, she had to admit.
"Thank you," she said.
Mason moved to come inside with her but Maine put his hand out and actually shoved him back. "Not-uh. No one goes in with her."
Mason looked ready to wreak havoc and Kate cleared her throat.
"Mr Phillips? Please tell my husband I'm - so far - unmolested."
Mason's eyes cut back to her, and she could actually see the burning indignation slowly dampen. He nodded and the door was shut, the sound of the electronic key grinding the lock closed, and she was alone.
But through that little window, she could see Maine take up sentry duty.
She hoped Mason was out there too.
"I got it!" Ryan shouted. "I got him. I got you, you sneaky bastard."
Castle hustled over to where Ryan had camped out in the corner of the hotel ballroom; they had ten minutes left before the room would be needed for a reception and he was almost afraid to hope.
"What've you got?" he asked.
"Look here," Ryan said quickly. He tapped the screen with a pencil even as it loaded, an impatient gesture that made Castle's nerves go on alert. The database was slow - it required more processing speed than the network could handle - but when the image finally resolved, Castle surged to stand, pumping his fist.
"You got him," he crowed. "All right, download that to the encrypted server and mark it for the Director. I'll get him back on the line."
Mitchell stood up from the other table and held out his phone. "Already done."
"Shit. Thanks." Castle strode to him and grabbed the phone. "Sir?"
"Agent. I'm receiving now. This is 100% confirmation?"
"Yes, sir. Reynolds described a few tattoos and we put it into the Army-DOD database. Easy as that."
"You get me connections?"
"Not - not directly," he said, hedging. "A few wire transfers that might-"
"I need proof he's not-"
"Sir," Castle said desperately, cutting in. "He's in the FBI on an assumed name. We've pulled up his fake FBI credentials and forwarded those on to you as well as his service record under a different name."
"All right. I'll make that work. Meantime, I've had Marjorie set up a meeting and Beckett has been put into a holding cell. We'll get her transferred within the hour."
"Within the hour," he repeated dumbly. That meant the Director had actually finalized this long ago. "Sir..."
"I knew you could do it."
"Thank you," he said quietly, not sure his voice would carry it.
"I'll take this to those FBI bastards and we'll show them. Keep your burner phone near you, Richard. I'll message you when we've got Beckett transferred to house arrest. But you need to move locations."
"Yes, sir. Will do."
Castle ended the call and grinned at Mitchell. "He's already been granted the transfer."
It didn't take long to find a GPS tracker making a nudge against her spine. It irritated her skin just under the collar and she figured Mason had made it conspicuous on purpose, to let her know they were keeping tabs on her. She removed it from her shirt to rub at her skin, hands awkward and still cuffed in front of her.
She wasn't sure if there were cameras, but she had to assume there were so she tucked the bug carefully into the front pocket of her jeans, turning on the spot as if surveying her cell. She was lucky to still be wearing her own clothes, and the key under her tongue was beginning to cut. She needed to put it somewhere; she still had on her shoes, but she didn't know how long that was going to last.
They'd have to strip search her eventually, right? That they hadn't meant Keirce or someone was doing her a favor, a courtesy, but when they officially charged her, she'd have to change into prison garb.
Beckett had no idea where to put the key when that happened. As it was, she couldn't keep it in her mouth any longer, so she sank to the cot and pretended to lie down, her hands coming up near her face.
She palmed the key and winced, rolled to her back to change positions. She lowered her cuffed hands to her side, tilted her hips to let her movements hide her tucking the key into her pocket with the GPS tracker. Her hip blossomed with immediate pain and she groaned at herself for moving in the first place.
Kate grunted and shifted again, the pain burning along her nerves, trying to find a better spot. She must have hit something wrong because it still flickered and flared like bright spots before her eyes. She folded her cuffed hands high over her sternum even though it hurt, avoided placing her hands over her stomach because of the security cameras. It wasn't like holding on would help anyway. Either she managed to keep it or she didn't.
She might have fallen asleep. It was hard to tell. The cot wasn't comfortable by any standards, but it allowed her to keep off her hip and portions of her ribs, keep her muscles from straining. She closed her eyes against the smooth ceiling and tried to remain centered.
She just kept breathing. Ignored the flutter of pain in her ribs whenever she was forced to draw in a deeper breath.
When the door opened, it wasn't Maine on the other side; it was Keirce. She struggled to sit up, staring at him.
"We've been given orders to transfer you back to your apartment," he said. His voice sounded strange. "House arrest. Don't know how that happened."
Mason was behind him and he breezed into the cell, coming for her. "I'm just that good."
She took that to mean it was part of the plan, and she allowed him to help her stand, combatting exhaustion and bruised ribs and the damn handcuffs. She was already tired of help, tired of not being able to move without her breath catching in her throat. "Thanks," she told him.
The handcuffs clattered as she moved and Keirce actually winced for her, but he didn't offer to take them off. Once they moved into the hallway, Keirce took her by the elbow.
"Vehicles are waiting outside," he said. There were two other agents waiting in the hall, both of whom had been with the group sent to arrest her, but still no Maine.
She let herself relax a little bit.
House arrest was good - it meant Rick was working to get her home, that he knew about Maine and was doing something about it. Maybe he'd already gotten the man taken into custody, maybe Maine had cut his losses and run.
Mason was at her back and now she could see McCord at the end of the hallway, her allies going on behind and ahead of her, and she let herself believe it was possible. It could be as easy as that.
Keirce swiped his keycard at the end of the hall and the locked clicked open. He put his shoulder to the door and pressed the crossbar; it swung open slowly into a garage. Kate hesitated until the agent at her back pushed her forward, and she stepped onto the concrete floor to hear the engines idling on two hulking black SUVs.
One of the agents who had arrested her moved for the lead car and hopped inside; she was faintly jealous of his agility. Keirce went to the open back door on the lead car and brought her with him, gripped her by her elbow to help her up. She struggled up onto the running board and ducked painfully inside the car, and then the door was slammed shut behind her and the locks engaged with a whine.
Mason had been detained outside the SUV and was stepping forward, arguing loudly with Keirce and the other agent. McCord was beginning to circle around the lead car as if to get a look.
Beckett turned her head quickly to the FBI agent in the backseat with her. "Hey, wait. My lawyer-"
She froze.
Maine was the driver.
He gave her that chilling smile and then a gun over the seats.
She flinched, her fingers pressing tightly to her abs, rigid with what came next, but Maine didn't even hesitate.
He fired one bullet into the agent's forehead, a neat round hole that blackened and singed, and the agent tilted precariously and slumped against the far window.
The SUV was already tearing out of the underground garage and flying up the exit ramp. Kate rocked backward and fell into the dead man, hearing the shouts of her friends after the speeding car.