Forty-Seven: Chapter 16
DISCLAIMER: None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you, Mr. Marlowe.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012 – Now 12:07 a.m. – At a luxurious hotel in Manhattan
The team sits in the expansive open living room of the beautiful suite, high atop Manhattan. They can't go home – not yet, not tonight. All of them are potentially in danger, some more than others.
"I'll be back for you later."
It was a clear warning to Richard Castle – and by extension, his family. Hence, his first call after regaining his senses at Mr. Smith's house was a call here to this hotel, one he has used in years past for a few of the author's more . . . amorous adventures. Those he wanted to keep out of the press. Sure, those were rare exceptions, as most of the time he wanted his escapades front and center in the public mind in order to further his bad-boy reputation.
Occasionally, however, Meredith would pop back into town, and Castle initially worried that bringing his deep-fried twinkie to the loft – to young Alexis – would be too confusing for the young girl. So in those cases, Martha would watch over the young girl while Castle took his dalliances with his ex-wife to a secluded area.
This hotel.
He's registered as Alexander Richardson, an identity he created and has not used in some six plus years. He's fortunate that four top floor rooms were available. He reserved four rooms – one for Alexis, Martha and himself. One for Kate. One for Javier. And one for Kevin and Jenny.
Normally his friends would balk at such a generous move. Not tonight. Not after the incident at the Smith household.
Yeah, incident.
A man and woman – dead. Castle himself has just finished an hour in an ambulance, getting a bullet removed and bandaged up. Given the lack of security in most hospitals, he wanted no part of a hospital visit. Not with Marks out there. His number one priority was getting the bullet out of his arm, and his mother and daughter out of his loft.
He considers all of them in danger – friends and family - and they all agree. Except for Captain Gates, who they agree is probably in the clear. Still, she is their captain, and so she is there just for this meeting. Afterward, she will go back to her home, to her husband.
He had briefly considered whisking everyone to his place in the Hamptons. That beach home, however, is a known residence of Richard Castle. And Marks seems to know too much already. He's always one step ahead. So Castle has opted for these rooms.
Alexis and Martha are in their room as they meet. Jenny is with them, not wanting to be alone given the limited information that husband, Kevin, has shared with her.
"So, where are we?" Captain Gates asks the group at large, glancing at her watch. "We have matched the license plate number to a Cole Maddox. That's the alias he lives under. We have his home address. It's here in Manhattan."
"Nice area he lives in," Castle muses aloud.
"Murder seems to pay well these days," Detective Kate Beckett mutters bitterly under her breath. Still, the words carry and her sentiments are heard by all.
Detective Javier Esposito is quiet – both in terms of words and spirit. There is a distance – a chasm – between the detective and his good friend Kate Beckett. A chasm that is increasing in size with every passing moment of silence between the two. It's understandable. Even after what they have seen Maddox/Marks do – to the Smiths, to Castle, to Javi himself – Esposito still recalls – still clings to - the boyhood friend who saved his bacon more times than he can remember. The boyhood friend whose father turned a young ruffian's life around.
Javier Esposito is conflicted. Kevin Ryan understands. Richard Castle understands.
Kate Beckett does not.
Yeah, this guy killed the Smiths, and assaulted Castle and Esposito. But more than that – for Kate Beckett – this man shot her. This man attempted to assassinate her. In a cemetery. She fingers the scar left by this man's bullet through her blouse. He left her a souvenir. He left her with PTSD. He left her a mess.
And yet, she continues to stare across the room at her friend, who has withdrawn from everyone, somewhere in his own mind.
Richard Castle, however, can understand the conflict Esposito battles. Like Esposito, he, too grew up without a father. He asks himself which is worse.
Never knowing your father, and growing up only with your mom?
Or knowing your dad, loving your dad, building childhood memories with your dad, only to watch him suddenly leave, go away and have virtually no further contact. Abandoned. Like Esposito. Then Esposito found both the father-figure he desperately needed along with the brother he always wanted.
Yeah . . . conflicted.
"We know where he lives," Gates continues, her words bringing Castle back to the present. "We move in tonight to arrest him. I will call in for back-up and –"
"No," Javier Esposito says suddenly, and all heads snap in his direction. Kate Beckett cannot hide her derision and disappointment with her friend.
"Of course he wants to wait. He doesn't understand. And he should understand," she thinks to herself.
"Excuse me?" Captain Gates manages to say, not attempting to hide her surprise.
"Move in to arrest him now, and we're all dead before we get to his apartment," Esposito says calmly. Just as Marks is, Javier is in combat-mode right now, thinking like a soldier. Thinking like a soldier who is facing a tremendous soldier.
"This is war for C-Mark," he begins, drawing another frown from Kate Beckett at the use of the familiar nick-name. "You attack your enemy when they are likely to offer the least resistance. That's typically during the wee hours of the morning, under normal circumstances. But these are not normal circumstances."
He gathers himself and stands up, approaching the group now.
"But you don't attack an enemy without reconnaissance. Without intel. Especially this enemy. He knows we're coming. We scope him out first, then attack tomorrow morning. If he's still there."
"And just how would he know we are coming?" Kate asks suspiciously. Her unspoken accusation hangs in the air.
"Because he knows we saw his car," Esposito says calmly, struggling to keep his emotions in check. "He's not stupid. The fact that he stuck around after killing the Smiths instead of bolting means he wanted to see us. He wanted to assess his enemy. He's already reconnoitered us," he adds, bringing additional stress into the room.
"You sound like you admire him," Kate explodes. "I can't believe you are . . . you . . . it's like you are sympathizing with him, Javi," she begins to plead. "He is a monster."
"He's not a monster, Kate," Javier Esposito tries to explain. "As brutal as the scene at the Smith's was last night, trust me, I remember scenes far more brutal than that during my tours in the Middle East. And so does Marks." He intentionally uses his friend's last name, as a small olive branch to Kate.
His mind takes him back to Afghanistan, to Iraq. Those were brutal scenes. Men, women, children dead. Soldiers dismembered by landmines. Bodies burned beyond recognition. He's seen atrocities. Hell, he's committed atrocities against other human beings. Perhaps the average person wouldn't consider it as such, but tell that to the families of men he has killed under the protective stripes of a soldier. A gunshot to the head. A knife to the chest. It doesn't matter. Dead is dead. It's all an atrocity. He almost chuckles at the irony. Put a person on a battlefield and it is perfectly fine to accept brutality and death. Put that same person in the city or suburbs and those same actions are suddenly barbaric. It's no wonder that so many of his friends struggled upon their return stateside.
He pushes those thoughts out of his head as he continues. He intentionally moves his gaze away from Kate, and places his eyes on his captain.
"We can't assume that he doesn't know we are coming, sir" Javier comments. "Your Mr. Smith made assumptions for a year, and it finally caught up with him," he says, glancing at Castle.
"Roy made assumptions for years – and still it finally caught up even to him, and he was in on the whole damn gig," he continues. "So no, I'm not making that assumption. Let's check his place out first. Just to be smart. Keep a team on the building to make sure he doesn't leave, but don't try anything tonight."
Captain Gates nods her head, recognizing the wisdom in her ex-Special Forces detective's plan. Kate Beckett has a different reaction.
"You're not in charge of this case!" Kate tells him angrily. Rick Castle moves toward her, attempting to defuse the situation. He's familiar with the 'divide and conquer' tactics that the villain often uses in his own books. He isn't fast enough.
"You're right, Beckett," Esposito mutters angrily. "I'm not."
He takes his badge out, and his shoulder revolver and places both on the table in front of everyone. He bends to retrieve the second revolver from his lower leg holster, and places that gun next to the other items.
"These belong to you," he tells a stunned Captain Gates, as Kate stands wide-eyed, tears starting to brim her eyelids. She opens her mouth, but the words won't come out. No matter, it's too late, as ex-Detective Javier Esposito walks to the front door of the hotel suite.
"Try not to get killed," he tells the room at large, shutting the door behind him. The slamming door snaps Kevin Ryan out of the moment, and the detective quickly moves across the room, opening the door and taking off after his friend. He catches him at the elevator, putting a supportive hand on his friend's shoulder.
"You're my friend," Esposito tells him quietly but firmly, "so I am giving you to the count of one." Something in his words stirs Kevin Ryan, who quickly removes his hand.
"Where are you going, Javi?" Ryan asks, his eyes pleading, glancing back at the room they have just left. Richard Castle stands in the doorway, confused and hoping Ryan can make some headway with their friend.
"I'm going home, bro," Esposito tells him. "If C-Mark wanted me dead, I'd be dead right now."
The elevator chimes, as the door opens. Esposito enters the elevator car, and hits the button for the lobby. Seconds later the door closes, and a disconsolate Kevin Ryan turns back toward the room, his eyes taking in Richard Castle, who wonders to himself just how things in his life – and the lives of his friends – managed to go to hell in a mere twelve hours.