Forty-Seven: Chapter 24
DISCLAIMER: None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you, Mr. Marlowe.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012 – 9:28 a.m. – On one of the Rooftops at the New York Methodist Hospital in Brooklyn
A hard right hand sends Kate Beckett flying backwards, as she lands roughly on her side atop the roof at Methodist Hospital. Only a couple of floors below her, safely in the comforts of his hospital bed, lies Jim Beckett. She is so close, yet not close at all.
Once on the roof, Cole Maddox had grabbed a chair and wedged it against the door. It strikes her that he has this battleground so well planned out that he took the time – in advance – to bring a chair up from one of the rooms for this very purpose.
They have been fighting – if you can call it that – for less than two minutes, and she is honest enough to admit to herself that she is slowly, methodically getting her ass kicked. He disarms her so easily, so effortlessly, and with that damn smile of his.
She gets up and circles with a short kick that actually is very good, very effective. Against most opponents.
For Cole Maddox, his special forces training almost make a joke of Beckett's normally efficient and highly effective moves. He smiles with every parry, every strike, every blow, every block. The fear and bile are now erupting at the base of her throat as she realizes that she is not even close to match for this man. She is going to lose. She is going to die. She is a mouse to him, and he is toying with her, pawing her left and right.
She tries a hard left jab – he blocks it easily. She follows with a second jab, also blocked by his elbow. She continues with a right cross that connects with his jaw. For a brief instant, she allows herself the exuberant thought that victory is a possibility. She follows with a roundhouse kick to the face that connects perfectly.
And he smiles perfectly in contempt at her, quickly moving forward with a hard blow to the head. Suddenly, she is airborne, being flipped back to the ground. She lands on her knees, pain shooting straight down her shins. She can taste the blood in her mouth. He is dismantling her piece by piece.
"At least tell me who you work for," she manages as she spits out blood on the rooftop.
"Detective, you just don't get it," tells her with his trademark smirk. "You still don't understand who you are dealing with."
A final burst of fury erupts in Kate Beckett, as she lunges forward.
"Neither do you!" she spits out. A final Cole Maddox kick sends her spiraling over the edge. Her hand – at the last moment – reaches out and grabs the ledge. Mercifully, she gets it, and manages to put both hands on it. But it's too late. He has taken too much out of her. She tries and tries but cannot pull herself up. She momentarily thinks of Richard Castle and how she and Ryan laughed as he tried to pull himself up out of the hole in the cemetery.
Castle.
Just thinking of the man brings a tear to her eyes. So close. So very damn close. She briefly thinks of the words that Castle has told her just yesterday.
"Kate Beckett, if you aren't careful, if we aren't careful, you're going to end up bleeding out on a street, or ambushed in some alley, or God-forbid, hanging off the ledge of some building."
Damn, did the man have to be so horribly prophetic!
Maddox walks to the ledge and gazes down at her. Below he sees the police cars that have just arrived. They will be up here in moments, assuming they can get by his little barricade. He probably could get by them, but what's the use? His picture is on television by now, so his identity is kaput. Bracken is not going to like this. Not one bit.
He knows he has messed up, and exposed the Senator. He allowed this to get far too personal, and now it's going to cost him. The Senator has already started to clean house, and after today, he's going to be a part of the house cleaning. Javier has been proven correct once again. No, Bracken won't like this. Worse – he won't tolerate it. He knows he will probably dispatch the assassin. She will come for him. And she doesn't fail. Ever. He thinks about his chances against her and smiles sadly.
"I won't even see her coming," he muses to himself.
He gazes across the rooftops and smiles. Suddenly, he reaches down with both hands and grabs Detective Kate Beckett by both of her hands. He grunts as he pulls her up, and drops her at his feet. He looks down her now, seeing the fear and confusion in her eyes.
"His name is Bracken, Detective," he tells her. "He was an assistant district attorney a long time ago. He came across a few cops trying to play mafia and turned it against them. Used the money to fund his first campaign. Your mom found out. He had her killed."
Kate Beckett is both horrified and exultant at the news. The same conflict rages in her about this man who shot her last summer, just kicked her over the edge this morning, and for some reason she may never understand, has chosen to save her life.
He continues glancing down at her, then he brings his head up, looking out into the distance. It's a strange move. What is he looking at? Who is he looking for? She follows his gaze but doesn't see anything or anyone. She is too weak from hanging to even move.
"You will either take this information with you to your grave, or you will use it to bring him down," Maddox tells her as he finally takes his Glock out and points it directly at her head below.
"Which one happens?" he asks her aloud, and then answers for her. "Well, that depends on Javier."
Turning to the opposite rooftop, he yells out: "Isn't that right Javier? I know you're out there, Javi. I'm a dead man walking. You know this, Javi. You know he won't let me live. I let this one get too personal. There are others at his beck and call. They will come for me. They . . . she will come for me."
He glances back down at Kate Beckett, who has a look of peace on her face. Somehow, in these frantic moments, she has found herself, her peace. She knows her destiny and it ends right here this morning.
"Do this for me, Javi," Cedric Marks yells out. "One last favor for a friend, Javi."
Glancing down a final time at Kate, he smiles – actually smiles, and this time it isn't his typical arrogant smirk. She sees, for a brief instant, the young boy who befriended Javier Esposito. The young boy whose father pulled Javier out of the mire.
"Detective," he begins, "New Amsterdam Bank and Trust. Safe deposit box 2727."
He turns again toward the opposite rooftop.
"One last favor, Javi. Me or her. Choose now." He begins counting slowly, in cadence.
"Five"
"Four"
"Three"
He clicks the safety off.
"Two"
Cedric Marks' head propels backwards as he feels the massive pressure explode in his chest. He never hears the cracking sound of the kill shot that echoes from the opposite rooftop, some twenty-five to thirty yards away.
He lies on the ground, staring up at the morning sky when Detective Kate Beckett's face appears over him. She is close, inspecting the wound, and, God help her, trying to save his life.
"Good luck, detective," he spits out. "Poetic jus-"
Cole Maddox's eyes glass over, staring lifelessly at the blue sky above. She glances across the rooftop from her kneeling position and watches her longtime friend and partner on his knees. The butt of his M4 Carbine rifle stands vertically atop the ground, holding him up, as he weeps loudly.