Judas: Chapter 7
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DISCLAIMER: Most of these characters are not mine at all, but they are memorable. Thank you, Mr. Marlowe. The others? Yeah, they're mine
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11:13 a.m. West Coast Time on Thursday, April 26, 2012, back at the Presidio in San Francisco, California
"This is quite an accusation, accusing what I understand to be a pending Senatorial candidate of something as nefarious as kidnapping," Sam Carlos muses aloud to his visitor.
San Francisco's crime lord sits, one leg crossed over the other, in a casual manner. The fact that he so leisurely offers this opinion is disarming to say the least. Of course, this is all by design.
"Particularly when no ransom was asked, no ransom delivered," Willie Crockett adds, arms folded as he sits next to Vulcan Simmons on the large sofa.
"It is almost as if there were no reason whatsoever for such an action to be taken in the first place," Sam Carlos continues, his eyes narrowing, boring uncomfortably into Vulcan Simmons.
"But we know there is always a reason," Willie Crockett adds, not taking his eyes off Simmons.
"So, I have to ask myself, why would a want-to-be Senator kidnap and release the daughter of a philanthropist?" Carlos asks.
"A catch and release," Crockett adds again, shaking his head.
In truth, it is an act, a non-rehearsed dialogue that Sam Carlos and Willie Crockett have become comfortable conducting, after years of experience together. Both men see this for what it is, beyond Simmons' understanding.
For Sam Carlos, this is far too damn coincidental. Senator William Bracken had a hard on for Kate Beckett, even going so far as to attempt her murder last summer at the funeral of her New York police captain. Such shenanigans against Kate Beckett and Richard Castle should have ended with Bracken's death.
A death that – unknown to virtually everyone – was orchestrated by Sam Carlos.
Carlos had discovered the identity of Johanna Beckett's murder years ago, after a visit to Kate Beckett's New York home. Upon this discovery, he filed this information away, planning to share it with Kate only if she requested. After all, it was his suggestion to her to let it go, to move on. It was his suggestion to her that she didn't have the will to do what was necessary, to believe what was necessary to find the culprit, and – once finding him or her – dealing with him or her as well.
No, there was no reason to share this with Kate Beckett. Once he discovered the identity of one William Bracken, he kept this information close to the vest until such a time that action would become necessary.
William Bracken ordering the shooting of Kate Beckett made action necessary.
When Kate had been shot, the news of her shooting made it to the ears of Sam Carlos through his network of informants. What also made it to his ears was how she was shot – with one Richard Castle jumping in front of her, risking his life to save hers. That information begged Carlos to conduct some research of his own into the mystery author.
In just over two months, Carlos was able to discover the identity of Richard Castle's father. Learning that the man was a CIA operative played right into the hands of the San Francisco mobster, who quickly saw this as a means of using the spy to eliminate the threat to his old college friend without anything tying back to him.
Once he managed to get word to Castle's father that his son's life was in danger, all he had to do was sit back and take bets as to how quickly the father would take care of things, and what subtle scheme he'd use to do it.
Now, months later, to discover that the widow of this man also has it in for either Richard Castle or Kate Beckett is just too much. What is it about the ex-author and/or the ex-detective that has gotten under the skin of the Bracken family?
He pushes the question out of his mind for a few moments. For now, there is business to conduct. He mentally reminds himself to thank Willie Crockett for deciding to allow the New York drug lord to live. Had he killed Simmons, this information might have stayed secret until it was too late.
As in life or death too late for Castle or his old college friend.
"So, tell me, Mr. Simmons," Carlos continues. "Why should I believe that the widow of a U.S. Senator needed the daughter of my friend kidnapped?"
For his part, Vulcan Simmons is standing his very tenuous ground. He knew this meeting would not be a nice sit-down, where a drink is offered, and laughs are shared. He has already decided that simply telling the truth, without any opinions or suppositions offered, is his best chance to survive this meeting.
"And why would you volunteer this information?" Crockett asks, although he already knows the answer. Simmons answers Crockett's question first.
"That's two questions," Simmons begins. "First, your question," he says, looking at Willie Crockett.
"You indicated that Mrs. Bracken wanted me dead," he tells the man. Crockett nods his head in agreement.
"I believe that, because it fits her pattern. I have no reason to protect her anymore," Simmons continues.
"And what pattern is that?" Carlos asks.
"A pattern of cutting loose ends," Simmons replies. "Mr. Carlos, Senator Bracken was no choirboy, by any stretch of the imagination. But trust me, the jury was always out on who was actually making the decisions, pulling the strings – him or his wife."
This information is consistent with what Sam Carlos has long suspected. Mrs. Bracken was always too good, too nice, too consistent. He was convinced there was always something more to the one woman.
He nods his head, indicating Simmons should continue.
"Mrs. Bracken is going to be a fantastic politician because she has perfecting lying far more than the normal politician."
"Do tell," Carlos says, an eyebrow raised.
"Most politicians tell obvious lies, knowing their voters want to embrace those lies. So, they are lies that never come back to hurt them," Simmons tells the duo. "But Mrs. Bracken is not just a liar. She is a deceiver. She tells truths that hide lies."
"An excellent definition of deception, Mr. Simmons," Sam Carlos tells him admiringly. "A good deception is a lie covered by truth, where the receiver of the lie doesn't even realize they have been lied to."
"Exactly," Simmons agrees, nodding his head quickly. "Exactly. And that is what Mrs. Bracken is excellent at. She tells a lie, but then tells you a truth that covers the lie. You focus on the true statement she made, never seeing the lie."
"Philosophy lesson aside, why is this –"
Simmons does not let Crockett finish the question. He knows where this is going.
"It's important, sir, because I did some thinking after you left," Crockett explains, standing up, which surprises both west coast men. Simmons walks to the large expansive window, before turning to address them.
"I did some soul searching, and I went back to think about the words Mrs. Bracken and I spoke to one another," he tells them. "She told me that taking Miss Castle was not her idea. It was done as a favor to someone else."
Simmons cannot shake away an involuntary shiver as he watches both men eye him. He knows he is looking into the eyes of predators, and they are getting bored. Or hungry. Neither bodes well for him.
"I told her that you – Mr. Crockett – were terrorizing my organization. But she said she did not know you. Did not know of you. But you told me I was not supposed to live through the kidnapping. You told me I was a loose end she was taking care of. And I believe you. But if I am a loose end, and she does not know of you – then who was she expecting to take care of me?"
Both Sam Carlos and Willie Crockett smile at this question. It is good question.
No. It is a fantastic question.
It is the question of a man who thinks and strategizes. It is the question of a man who doesn't just react but thinks proactively.
It is the question of a man Sam Carlos can use.
"It was a good move on your part to allow Mr. Simmons to live," Carlos tells his right-hand man.
Sam Carlos then turns his attention to the man in question.
"Sit down, Mr. Simmons," he orders, as he himself stands, and walks to the bar area of the living room. Willie Crockett stands and follows. He watches Carlos take three tumblers, and a bottle of bourbon. He pours three short glasses. Without asking, Crockett grabs two glasses and walks back to the sofa. Carlos follows him with his own glass.
Crockett gives one glass to Simmons, who has taken a seat as directed. Crockett then turns to Carlos, who offers a click of glasses. The two men click glasses, then turn to face Simmons, both standing.
"The deception Mrs. Bracken ran for you is quite effective," Carlos begins. "I admit I am impressed you saw past it. The truth she told you is that she was acting on someone else's behalf. The lie she told you is that she didn't know who Willie was. If she was expecting someone to come find Alexis Castle, then she knew who that someone would be."
"And if she knew who that someone – me – would be, then that tells us that she knows who we are, and our relationship with Richard Castle," Crockett continues. "I had told Mr. Carlos here that taking Alexis – without a ransom – was simply a delaying tactic."
"A delaying tactic that was designed to keep Mr. Castle in New York longer than planned," Carlos remarks. "And by keeping him in New York, what I really mean to say is that the plan was to keep him away from here. Away from San Francisco."
"And there is only one man we know who would want that," Crockett continues the thought.
"Who?" Simmons asks.
"Who is none of your concern at the moment, Mr. Simmons," Carlos tells him, his eyes evening. "Why is the bigger question."
"If he is the one who asked Mrs. Bracken to kidnap Alexis, then for what purpose?" Crockett asks his boss quietly.
"That's the question, my friend," Carlos agrees. "He was overseas during this time."
"And evidently overseas for a reason that we missed," Crockett adds.
"Indeed," Carlos agrees once again.
Both men turn back to their guest. It is a synchronized move that further disarms the ex-drug lord from the east coast.
"Mr. Simmons, you are free to go," Carlos tells him. "But I would ask you to stay in the city for a few days."
"And by ask, he does not mean this is a request," Crockett warns.
"Yes, yes, that is true, my friend," Carlos chuckles. "Stay in town, Mr. Simmons. We will call on you when we need you again."
With that, both men walk to the door leading to the hallway, with Carlos waving a hand down the hall. Seconds later, two men appear next to Carlos.
"Take him to the St. Francis, down on Union Square," Carlos tells him. "Normal room, make sure he gets checked in and is treated appropriately."
The two men walk down the hallway, leaving a nervous Vulcan Simmons who is wondering what 'appropriately' means.
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11:52 a.m. West Coast Time on Thursday, April 26, 2012, back at the Castles Complex in Sausalito, California
"This was nice," Lori Houston tells her new friend. "I'm glad we got a chance to meet," she continues.
"Well, if what you say is true, we would have met at some point during our stay here," Elena Markov agrees. "I am glad it was sooner rather than later."
She turns to the little girl who holds tightly to the left hand of Lori Houston.
"It was nice meeting you also, Jamie," Elena offers sweetly. "You are a precious little gem."
The girl smiles, squeezing her mother's hand.
"You're nice," the little girl offers with a smile. "You are much nicer than Mommy Cindy. Mommy Cindy makes Mommy Lori sad."
Elena takes note of the wistful look on the other woman's face, the change in countenance. It must be a hard life these women lead. Elena has – intentionally – allowed herself to feel what these women have felt, as subterfuge to get into this place. But that was a situation she controlled completely. She finds herself feeling for the women of this place.
And their children.
"Not all men and women are nice, Jamie," Lori tells her daughter. "And not all men and women are mean, as you can see from Miss Elena here."
"How do you know the difference?" the little girl asks. Both women stare at each other for a few seconds, both chuckling.
"Well, that is the twenty-thousand-dollar question, isn't it," Lori offers.
"Indeed," Elena agrees. "Out of the mouths of babes . . ."
"It was good to meet you, Elena," Lori remarks as she and young Jamie begin to walk away.
"And you also, my friend," Elena replies. "I hope to see you again soon."
With that, the European assassin walks away, toward her building, her thoughts now beginning to focus on the mission at hand.
She wants information about this place – looking for weaknesses, strengths. Assessing the women here. Assessing the security here.
Finding the security cameras in the cafeteria was child's play, as all were in plain sight. This afforded her an opportunity to plant small bugs underneath three of the tables – one planted on the way to her table, one planted at her table, and the final one planted under a table as they left.
It was clear that the women here 'let their hair down' in the cafeteria. So far, every place she has walked, the mood is peaceful but somewhat reverent, almost somber. The upbeat, carefree mood in the cafeteria was in stark contrast to the rest of the complex. If she is going to hear good information, it will come there.
She makes a mental note to plant a few more later tonight when she returns for dinner. It strikes her that the women have the option of cooking in the small but highly functional kitchens in their residences, or to have a nice meal at the cafeteria. Again, she is impressed with what is being done here, and idly wonders who – if anyone – would take over here if Mr. Castle suffered an untimely accident.
And if any of the security team happen to sit at one of her 'secured tables', all the better. She will make sure that all tables are bugged in the next day or so.
For now, she will go to her room, change into jogging gear, which will afford her the opportunity to jog around the campus, all to gauge the security, and potential escape routes if that should come into play.
"One month," she thinks to herself. That is what she has decided in the last fifteen hours or so. It will take a month to gather all the information, and potentially plant the destruction of this place. She intentionally buries a niggling feeling in the back of her head, that destroying this place would be a travesty for the women who clearly are counting on it.
"Not my problem," she says out loud, allowing her ears to her the words from her lips. One month and she can return to Europe.
"Having a good morning?" a voice behind her asks. She turns quickly and works hard to keep the surprise off her face. Twice in one day this woman has snuck up on her.
"Lindy isn't it" Elena asks.
"That's me," Lindy smiles sweetly. Neither woman is buying it though. Once again, the size each other up, not bothering to hide the fact.
"Fancy running into you here," Elena offers.
"Not fancy at all," Lindy replies. "It's my job. The safety of the women here – and the security team here – I take that very seriously."
"Good to know," Elena remarks.
"Yes, isn't it," Lindy almost chuckles. "Be seeing you Elena. Take care of yourself."
With that, Lindy Matthews takes off on a slow jog away from Markov, who eyes the blonde with increasing admiration. The vibration and buzz from her phone snaps her out of her thoughts. She gazes down at the offending object, seeing the incoming text message.
BARRY ADAM: "Everything is good?"
She glances up at the retreating form of Lindy Matthews, deciding to wait to answer this text until she is in the safe confines of her residence.
A hundred yards away, Mike Monroe stands in the window with a pair of binoculars, focused on the dark-haired European. His companion is quiet, allowing both men to think.
Suddenly the door opens to Richard Castle's office, and Dr. Samantha Peraza walks in.
"Ready?" she asks.
"Time already?" Castle asks, glancing at his watch, and then back towards the window.
"Quick orientation," Peraza tells him. "Her name is Peggy Stanton. Two daughters, twins, four years old. I'm excited about this one, Rick."
"Why is that?" Castle asks, and Mike Monroe shares the curiosity now, bringing the binoculars down and putting them on the desk.
"Because there is no new bruising on this woman, no recent or fresh blood," Peraza tells them. "No incident has caused her to come to us. Just a realization on her part that she needed to get out now, and not wait until she is really hurt."
"You have wanted to see this, that's right," Monroe offers, as Richard Castle nods his head in agreement.
"Markov can wait," Castle tells Monroe. We've got eyes on her.
"Hope so," Monroe offers. "I find the 'give her a long rope' plan somewhat concerning."
"So do I, Mike," Castle replies. "So do I – but that's the easiest way for us to find out what she's up to, and why she's here."
"And who sent her," Monroe adds. "I don't think she is here of her own accord. Lindy says she's a soldier. I agree."
"Then who's the general giving her orders," Castle wonders aloud.
"That, Rick, is the million-dollar question," Monroe tells his boss and friend. "That is what we have got to find out."
"That can wait, gentlemen," Dr. Peraza tells the men. "We have a new resident waiting. Let's not keep her waiting longer."
Richard Castle offers a quick salute, bringing a smile to the face of his friend.
"We're not finished, Mike," Castle remarks as they walk toward the door to watch the interview of the newest resident.
"Not by a longshot, boss," Monroe agrees. "Not by a longshot."