A/N I'm sorry for the horrendous delay in getting this out. Life has gotten in the way, and writers block can't even describe what I've been going through. I have to thank Garrae, Fbob and my friend Judy for the help with this. I think this is probably the 50th rewrite of this chapter. It's not my best, but not sure anymore rewrites will help. I thank anyone left reading this. I would appreciate any ideas, suggestions and thoughts on this. Only one or two chapters left. You guys have always been a great reason to write. Thank you all, and please review.

I don't own Castle or anything even slightly related. I just like to play with the characters.

Chapter 29

Volkov and the Russian mobster had planed their escape from New York through the old labyrinth of tunnels beneath the city over a shared vodka and a Cuban cigar. In the background a TV flashed Volkov's picture across the screen. Time was important, but not of the essence. For the moment he was safe. Their location would become known sooner or later, but the real danger was the trip, so they planned their escape route with care.

They had debated the route in detail with the dingy, old map that was spread across the table. At first it had looked easy, but the devil was in the details. Focused study showed it would take time and a bit of luck to navigate the intricacies of the tunnels. A wrong turn would cost them hours they didn't have, or take them into dangerous areas of the city. Some of the tunnels below the city were so old, maps for them no longer existed. Getting lost there would definitely end badly. Beyond that the inhabitants of the tunnels themselves, man, beasts and creatures that slithered and scratched in the dark inhabited these passages. The worst of the creatures were humans with self imposed exile from the human race. They were violent and these pitch black tunnels; their home field. Unwanted and no longer useful to those above, they were better left in the dark recesses of the night.

Their route finally and carefully mapped, they equipped themselves with guns, forged documents and a flashlight, and left through a hidden panel in the kitchen. Before squeezing himself through the opening Volkov reached into a drawer and pulled out a pairing knife. Not exactly his weapon of choice, but it would have to do, then he turned and shimmied the wooden board back into its place.

It'd been years since Volkov trudged through the winding underbelly of a city, and this one wasn't any different from the others. The festering smell that filled his nostrils made him gag and his stomach revolt. The light from their flashlights gave brief glimpses of the red, beady eyed, four legged inhabitants of these tunnels. He hated the wretched, germ carrying beasts that slithered past his legs. Wet dampness crawled under his skin and made his bones ache. He knew most of it was in his head and fought it unsuccessfully. He was able to function but the fear clawed at his gut, and the flashlight beam quivered as his hand shook. They walked quickly towards their destination fighting the impulse to run, which would probably be fatal. Fear was an unwanted emotion, one Volkov rarely gave into, but feeling the noose of pursuit as it tightened around his neck was almost overpowering. He had never put himself in this kind of situation without multiple escape routes. All this risk was because he had no idea if the targets had been removed or where his contract killer was.

Getting to the docks would only the beginning; from there they would attempt to sneak him onto one of the containers ships. The Captain would be paid handsomely for his indiscretion and the journey would be rough. Where he went wouldn't matter. It was all they had, as every other means of escape had been cut off. For Volkov there were too many variables that he had little or no control over.

On the street, well above the dungeon like tunnels Volkov fought his fear in, one of the Federal Agents spotted a video store partway down Canal Street that boasted a security video monitoring system. He asked the proprietor for any videos recorded in the last few hours. He hit pay dirt on the second tape where Volkov was clearly seen entering the alleyway across from the store. Only one building had direct entry from the alley. Before long the alley was swarming with NYPD officers and Federal agents. Gates and Shaw led the way.

Volkov entered another tunnel before the first detective crashed through the door of the building. He could hardly contain his disgust when the sludge seeped into his expensive Italian shoes. To him these tunnels only reinforced American laziness and greed. All the rotten food and waste just thrown carelessly and without a care under the city. The tunnels themselves that had once been useful and then abandoned when a better system was built. Disgust and fear warred for dominance as he plodded through ankle deep sludge, his mind working furiously to create a scenario where his escape came off without a hitch.

The Russian stopped quickly at a junction causing Volkov to stumble against him.

"Why are we stopping?" he demanded as the Russian turned the beam of light at him and temporarily blinded him. Unchecked anger erupted and Volkov struck at the flashlight knocking it out of the Russian's hand.

"This intersection isn't on the map. I'm double checking that we haven't made a wrong turn." The Russian said as he recovered the flashlight and turned it toward the map again, plunging Volkov into darkness. Something heavy scurried across Volkov's shoulder and bile rose in his throat at the creature that scampered over his shoulder. Once again fear gnawed at his gut making him shudder. He needed to get away from here as soon as possible.

"We make a wrong turn and you'll miss that ship."

"I miss that ship and your body will never be found: whatever the rats don't eat will sink deep into the sludge. They'll never find you. Now get moving, we need to get there."

Volkov followed the Russian closely. He promised himself that once this business was finished he'd find a way to make sure his escort never saw the light of day again. Volkov would get out of the United States and disappear for good. He had enough cash stashed in offshore accounts around the world and just as many false identities to match them to last a lifetime. He'd always known that this day would eventually come, and he had prepared for it.

The Russian nodded toward the tunnel on the left and started towards the docks, his mind churning furiously as he tried to make sure he came out of this alive. He was sure Volkov had no intention of leaving any loose ends, and he was definitely a lose end Volkov couldn't afford.

Above ground agents scoured the building Volkov had left nearly an hour before. There was no time for them to cover their tracks other than their escape route. The table they had just sat at had the unused tunnel maps on it and two tumblers with Vodka still at the bottom. A recently smoked cigar and Volkov's tattered wallet with his Russian government ID laid open in the center of the table.

They had to find him before he got to where ever he was going.

Shaw and Gates stared at the random items left on the table. Examining the map Gates looked up quickly, a knowing look on her face. "They're headed to the docks through the underground tunnels." She pointed at the dock area on the map. "He knows we have blocked off all his other avenues of escape and he's headed for the cargo ships."

Shaw formed two teams and sent them into the tunnels with the maps left behind. At the very least, the teams would be able to stop any retreat back into the tunnels on the other end. Calling their contacts both women demanded docking and ship information on any vessels arriving, docked or leaving the port today.

While waiting for the requested information Gates and Shaw studied the maps and picked locations where they thought their targets might emerge. Gathering their teams they headed out. Their time was limited, but since this had started this was the best lead they'd had. Gates pulled out her cell and called Ryan and Esposito informing them of their progress as she hopped into her cruiser with Shaw.

Volkov felt the tension building in his gut. He knew that they couldn't be far from the docks. He needed to dispose of his companion as quickly and efficiently as possible and be able to get out of the tunnels safely without him. The cold chill of fear crept up his spine when he considered the many unknown variables ahead. He was working blindly as time had not permitted them the luxury of planning with safe guards, there is no plan B, and this wasn't at all how he worked – it was how his vanquished foes worked. That thought had him on the edge of panic.

"How much further?" he questioned angrily. His lack of patience and fear getting the best of him.

"There is a turn up ahead and, if the tunnel maps are correct, about 300 yards after that we should merge with an old subway line, with access to the current subway line right above it. From there it's up the escalator to East Broadway and North until we hit water." As soon as he finished talking the Russian realized his mistake. He'd given Volkov the way out, and there was no need for his services any longer. In a last ditch attempt the Russian turned off his flashlight pitching them into total darkness and tried to escape down the tunnel. There was a huge problem with that, in the tunnel escape options were limited. There was no place else to go and Volkov was only a couple of feet away.

Volkov gripped the knife he had hidden. He noticed the moment the Russian realized his mistake and lunged in his direction with the knife firmly in hand the moment the lights went out. The Russian hadn't moved far enough. Volkov grazed the back of the Russian's knees causing the Russian to collapse momentarily disoriented against the tunnel wall. He kicked frantically at Volkov as he tried to escape, but only hindered his attempt to get a hand on his gun. Volkov landed his body on top of the Russian's legs, took advantage of the knowledge that gave him about the orientation of the Russian and thrust his knife up under the man's ribs directly into his heart. His hand twisted and he could feel as the knife gorged the organ. The Russian was momentarily paralyzed by shod which allowed Volkov to lunge forward, grab his head and slash across his throat with such violence the man's head was nearly severed. The downside of that was Volkov was showered by the Russian's blood as it spouted and gurgled from his throat. It added another level of difficulty to his escape, but at least the Russian was dead, and he'd survived worse. Much worse.

Volkov rolled off the Russian and groped in the sludge for the flashlight. Luck was with him and he recovered both the light and the map. He took a moment to consider, moved past the Russian, took off his jacket, and then recovered the Russian's gun. There was almost no blood on his pants. He checked the tunnel map again and then turned to head for the planned exit.

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