Judas: Chapter 9
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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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Roughly 1:03 p.m. West Coast Time on Thursday, April 26, 2012, back at the Castles Complex in Sausalito, California
Hugs and pleasantries have just been exchanged, and now four friends are standing outside the main door staring at one another for few seconds. For his part, Sam Carlos understands the hesitation – the conflict – that must be battling inside the head of his friend, Richard Castle.
Sure, they are friends. They shouldn't be – not according to the rules of society. But rules be damned, these four have found reasons – very good reasons – to be more than simple friends.
At the same time, this is not his home. This is not his private residence. This is his place of business. This is a very public place. This is a bell that cannot be un-rung. You don't bring someone like Sam Carlos into the administration building – where anyone and everyone can see – without repercussions.
For a split second, the San Francisco mobster begins to reconsider. In this split second, he is ready to offer to take this conversation back in his car, away from the prying eyes – and the surveillance cameras – that he knows are in effect in this place.
No, Sam Carlos has no perceived notions about this moment.
Willie Crockett understands the hesitation, also. And like his boss, he does not hold any ill will against the ex-author for his hesitation. Neither does his fiancée, who – truth be told – doesn't know what she would do if the decision were in her hands.
The moment passes, however, as Richard Castle makes his decision.
"Let's take this inside," he tells the foursome.
"Conference room? Your office?" Kate asks, both relieved and concerned with her loved one's decision.
"I'm sure you need to be cautious about eyes, Richard," Sam Carlos begins, as Castle opens the large door. "Is there a –"
"Forgive my hesitation, Sam," Castle interrupts, inviting everyone into the building. "Whoever is going to see you here is going to see you here. We are friends. This is nothing I am going to hide. Not anymore."
"Admirable," Willie Crockett mutters under his breath.
"Indeed," Sam Carlos agrees, and Kate Beckett will later swear that she heard a small break in her old college friend's voice. She understands the potential ramifications of this walk into the building.
"Are you sure about this," Carlos pushes again. "Believe me, I will not hold it against you if we take this to my car for a drive around the –"
"I am sure, Sam," Castle tells him. "You gave me a heads-up before my campus was attacked. You found out who drugged me. The antidote keeping me alive is because of you. The better antidote that I know is coming is because of you."
Castle pauses for a brief second. All can hear the emotional hitch in his voice.
"My daughter . . . Alexis . . . Alexis is alive because of you," he finally can state, emphatically. "Perhaps it is time that everyone understands this friendship."
With that, Castle moves toward the hallway leading to his private office.
"This way," he tells his visitors, as he walks hand in hand with Kate Beckett. Sure enough, they are no more than ten steps into the building before Dr. Samantha Peraza, the campus counselor and therapist, walks into the foyer. She sees the foursome, recognizing two and not recognizing two.
"Hello Samantha," Richard Castle greets her, pausing. It then hits him. Yes, he has welcomed Sam Carlos into his business dwelling . . . but introducing him to his staff is not necessarily his decision to make. What is the man does not want to be introduced. But if that is the case, then why would the man be here? He said they needed a face-to-face discussion. But perhaps Carlos would also count on Castle's discretion with his own people.
Kate can sense what is happening, and steps forward.
"Samantha, this is Sam. Sam is an old college friend of mine," she says by way of introduction.
"Hello Samantha," Carlos introduces himself. "Sam Carlos, and this is my colleague, Willie Crockett."
Both Castle and Kate Beckett struggle to hold back chuckles, watching the face of Samantha Peraza as the good doctor sees her diminutive hand vanish inside the massive black palm of Sam Carlos' right hand man.
"A pleasure," Crockett remarks, as the foursome turn and continue toward Castle's office.
Samantha Peraza eyes the foursome as they walk toward Castle's office. She has never met Sam Carlos, but she knows the name. She has heard it a few times between Castle and Kate Beckett. She more than idly wonders what in the world has to have transpired to bring this man to this place.
In the open.
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At the same time, 1:03 p.m. at NuGenetix headquarters in Silicon Valley
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"You have got to be kidding me," Martin Sumners mutters, his head in his hands, elbows on the table.
His friend – actually more than a friend – and lead developer Chandra Jain sadly places her hand on his left cheek, caressing it softly. She desperately wishes this were just a bad dream.
Instead, she is finding that real life is often the worst nightmare.
"I wish I could say that I was, Martin," she tells him. "Sadly, I am afraid I am not."
Martin Sumners awakened roughly an hour ago, in the infirmary at NuGenetix headquarters. He awakened with no idea how he got there, or why. After being dosed – for the first time – with the RSX3 drug, he fell unconscious for just over two hours and forty-five minutes. And true to the drug's intentions, he seemingly was dead. Bringing him to the infirmary was a calculated risk. The medical personnel there would find no discernible pulse or heartbeat. But Andrew Klein had no choice. He told the personnel there that they were trying a new experimental drug, and that Martin was actually fine, and would awaken in a couple of hours.
He then threatened them with their jobs – reminding them of the blanket non-disclosure all NuGenetix employees sign on their first day of employment. He was confident no one would talk.
The last thing Martin Sumners remembers is a jabbing pain in his shoulder, and then balloons popping. After that – nothing.
"But why?" he asks, almost pleading.
"Because Andrew wants us . . . properly motivated," she tells him.
"Mission accomplished," he remarks bitterly. "So much for all the family bullshit talk we've always heard."
"Yeah," is all Chandra can muster at the moment.
She's angry. She's beyond angry. For Andrew Klein to punish his team for his own stupid mistake – whatever that mistake has been – is grossly unfair. Of course, she doesn't know the truth. She doesn't know that this experimental drug was given to Councilman Barry Adams, or that Adams used the drug on an unsuspecting Richard Castle.
But she does know that the story Andrew told her and Martin – that somehow his own wife was accidently dosed with the drug is pure bullshit. Andrew would never dose his own wife. Andrew would never let the drug in the same vicinity as Cassandra Klein.
No, something else is afoot here, she is sure of it.
"So, I was dead," Martin says, snapping her out of her own reverie.
"No, Martin," she reminds him. "You appeared dead. But you were fine. The problem is you don't remember. And until we get a working antidote . . . until I get a working antidote . . . it will happen to you again."
"I will fall unconscious," he tells her.
"Yes, any time something sufficiently scares you," she reminds him.
"Damn, Chandra, you know me," he almost whines now. "A bug scares me. How am I supposed to function?"
"You will function," she tells him, steeling her eyes into her friend. "You will function because we have no other choice. Finding this antidote is up to us now. I won't let you down, Martin."
The young quality assurance engineer is quiet for a few seconds before responding.
"I know, Chandra," he tells her.
His brushes his hands through his hair again and looks at his longtime friend.
"How close?" he asks.
"How close are we to having a perfect antidote?" she asks.
"Yes," he confirms. "This last one didn't work. Mrs. Klein relapsed right away. So, my question is this? How far away are you? Are we? How confident were you that the version given to Mrs. Klein this morning would work."
"Not very," she admits. "And that is good news, Martin. You know this."
"I know," he agrees. "You are eliminating variables right now."
"And there are only so many variables left," she promises him. "So, we are close, yes, but which variable will be the winner, I just don't know yet. I hate to say this, but this is simple –"
"Trial and error," he finishes for her. "Not great for me."
"No, it's not," she admits readily. "But it is the truth, and you know this is where we are."
Martin Sumners takes a long pull of water, swallowing the life-giving liquid and closing his eyes against the new nightmare his life has become. Whatever happens, he is trusting his good friend to find the right concoction – to eliminate the right variables, as she calls them.
"And do not worry," she tells her friend, as if sensing his concerns. "I will not cut corners on this. I know what is at stake."
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Roughly 1:10 p.m. West Coast Time on Thursday, April 26, 2012, back at the Castles Complex in Sausalito, California
"So," Richard Castle begins, as he sits his large frame down into the fourth chair at the conference table in his office.
"What brings you two here?" Castle asks. "And by here, I mean what warranted a personal visit. This can't be good."
"Actually," Sam Carlos begins, "nothing so urgent, per se. But I suspect this will be a lengthy conversation, and I just did not want to have this discussion on the phone."
"Okay," Castle replies, exhaling a breath. In truth, the man is on edge. Except for a proposal to Kate Beckett, this last week has been pure hell, and this last week has been indicative of the last month or two.
"But it is a discussion that is important," Carlos continues, and now his eyes fall directly onto Kate Beckett.
And that quickly, both Castle and Kate realize that wherever this discussion goes, it will head in her direction.
"I assume there is a reason you and Willie are looking at me," Kate chuckles.
"Astute as always, Katie," Carlos replies. "Where should I begin?" he wonders aloud.
"Prefer that I begin?" Willie asks.
"Actually, my friend, that is a good starting point," Carlos agrees. "After all, the information we have is because of your field decisions."
Willie Crockett nods his head in agreement, chewing his trademark toothpick into pieces, swallowing.
"Earlier this week, when Alexis was kidnapped, I had a conversation with the orchestrator of her kidnapping, a man you know to be Vulcan Simmons."
"Yes, I know," Kate remarks.
"We know," Castle replies simultaneously.
"I decided to allow Mr. Simmons to continue living, because it was clear that – in truth – he was not the actual orchestrator of the plot," Crockett continues. "Yesterday, Mr. Simmons contacted me, indicating he had information regarding who the actual mastermind was in the kidnapping."
"So, I flew Mr. Simmons out here for a conversation," Carlos continues.
"He's here?" both Castle and Kate ask simultaneously – both moving forward toward the table.
"Yes," Carlos answers. "Well, here on the west coast, back my city," Carlos corrects himself. No one in the room misses the ownership he takes regarding the status of the city.
"Willie and I had a nice conversation with Mr. Simmons," he continues. "And as a result of that conversation, he was able to tell us that the person who ordered him to take your daughter, Richard, was a woman by the name of Elizabeth Bracken," he finishes, now staring at Richard Castle.
It takes every ounce of fiber within Willie Crockett to prevent the man from busting out laughing, as he watches the mixture of emotions paint the faces of the man and woman they have come to meet.
Richard Castle's face morphs from questioning, to incredulous, to disbelief.
Kate Beckett places a hand over her mouth, eyebrows raised, then lowered in anger, and then in similar disbelief.
"You . . . I . . . what?" Castle finally manages.
"Now you understand why I wanted to have this conversation in person," Carlos remarks.
"I don't understand," Kate Beckett states, regathering herself. "Why in the world would William Bracken's widow have a problem with Rick?" she asks, shaking her head.
It makes no logical sense.
"Mrs. Bracken has aspirations for taking the Senatorial seat vacated by her husband's demise," Carlos answers.
Richard Castle notices the smirk, the change of countenance in the mobster as he speaks of Bracken's death. He makes a note to query the man about this at another time. For now, he is all ears on the information being shared.
"According to Mr. Simmons, Mrs. Bracken did not order the kidnapping for her own reasons," Carlos tells them. "She never intended to hurt Alexis. She never intended to hurt you, Richard. She did this as a favor to someone else."
Carlos allows this information to settle with the duo, glancing back and forth between the two.
"Someone else?" Castle finally asks, a crease in his brow.
"Rick's been gone from New York for almost a year, Sam," Kate comments. "Who on the east coast would still have this kind of a grudge with Rick?"
"Who said anything about this person being on the east coast?" Sam asks.
Castle stares at the man for a few seconds, then glances at Kate Beckett. Kate looks from Castle to Sam, and then to Willie, before her face drops and saddens. Rick Castle drops his eyes to his hands, which have now gripped the edge of the table.
"Dammit," the ex-author finally remarks, as Kate rolls her chair toward him and slips her hands into his.