A/N1: I don't own you know what.
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Castle was full. Chuck, Sarah, Casey and Zondra were there, of course. But with them were the four men constituting Fitz's team and the four men constituting Colt's team. All of the operatives looked to Chuck for the briefing.
Chuck stood in front of them with the screen behind him and a wireless button in his hand to change the display. With a click the screen came alive with a headshot of a buzzcut tough guy.
"This, ladies and gentlemen, is Van Mulder from his time in the Legion. Picture's a bit outdated, but it's the best one we have of him. Forty years old. Fit. Tough. Smart and deadly. The LAPD has the same shot and they are sharing it with the officers at the concert tonight, but he's supposed to be good at disguise so keep that in mind as we look for him."
"How many cops will be there?" asked Fitz.
"Couple of dozen, including Alan and Luke," replied Chuck. "All plainclothes. Some dressed as private security. Most of them young enough to fit in with the crowd. The thing with a trap is, you can't let it look like it's a trap or you scare the prey away." He paused as he clicked to change the picture behind him. The screen now displayed an aerial shot of the concert venue. "It's why we picked the Hollywood Bowl. An outdoor venue is so open, it's almost inviting Van Mulder in."
Sarah said, "It's called the Bowl because of the shape of the hills surrounding it, not the shape of the half-dome bandstand. Low scrub on all sides."
"Ideal for a sniper shot?" asked Colt's man Marty.
"Yeah," replied Sarah. "We hope there's no real risk of that, though. First of all, that's not Van Mulder's MO. He seems to come in close. Small caliber pistol. Knife sometimes. Couple of times a garrote." She shrugged. "Seems like a weird preference to me, but whatever. Anyway, secondly, the LAPD is going to have five counter-snipers out in the hills, in case he decides to go that way."
"And," continued Chuck, "we've spread a sensor net all over the hills overlooking the stage. Night vision cameras, infrared heat sensors, some microphones. Enough of them that I'm worried about random animals setting them off. If he tries to set himself up in those hills, we can find him and stop him."
"And kill him," said Casey.
"Anyway," said Chuck, "we and the undercover cops are going to be spread out both backstage..." The screen behind Chuck began to run through a few photos of the interior of the building behind the bandstand. "... and in the audience. Sarah and Zondra will be together up front, in the first or second rows. I'm going to be in the control booth, watching the cameras and coordinating the communications with all of us..." Chuck waved his hands at the assembled agents. "...and working with the police. Casey, you are in the uniform of event security, along with Marco and Marty. The rest of you, except Mike, are going to be spread throughout the concert crowd. Mike, you are the last line of defense. You stick with Martin and try to take out Van Mulder if he manages to get close."
"Will do, Chuck," said Mike Colt.
Zondra said, "Gotta give props to Martin. Putting himself out there as bait to catch the guy who killed his buddy. Takes stones."
"Yeah," said Chuck. "I agree. I'm not entirely comfortable with it, but he's pretty determined."
"Why not comfortable, Chuck?" asked Colt.
"I don't think we should be putting civilians in danger," said Chuck.
"We did with you," said Sarah quietly.
Waving a dismissive hand, Chuck smiled at her softly and said, "Ahhh, I'm different."
Sarah gave him the most loving, soft smile she could muster and said, very seriously, "Yeah. You are."
Casey said, gruffly, "And on that note, I think I'll go clean my gun."
The men and women watched him go with soft chuckles.
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The crowd was lined up at 6:30pm, even though the doors didn't open until 7:00pm for the 8:00 show. The men and women manning the metal detectors were all LAPD, but wearing the uniforms of the private security company employed by the city.
Sarah was with Chuck in the booth as he settled himself behind monitors and put on a pair of headphones. With a glance at her watch, she said, "I'm going to go down to Tyler and give him a calming presence for a few minutes before the curtain goes up."
"Good idea, Sweetie. If I don't see you before he starts, stay safe," he said, leaning in to give her a kiss.
"You too, Lover," she said, leaning into the kiss. Pulling away, she grinned and said, "Yumm."
Chuck grinned right back at her.
She made her way down to the dressing room where Martin was preparing for the evening.
Mike Colt was with Martin and was saying, "...absolutely not. Jimmy Page is clearly the master."
"But Eric Clapton is a poet. 'Is work is...oh, 'i, Sarah," said Martin.
"Hi, Tyler. Just checking on you. How're you holding up?"
"I miss Gav, but otherwise I'm doing great. I'm drinking at least as much water as vodka, so I stay 'ydrated for the show," he said with a grin.
"I meant with the rest of it. With all the security?"
"Ah, I'm leaving that to your lot. To me, this is just another concert," he said to Sarah with a grin, running a hand through his spiky blond hair.
She grinned back. "Good attitude." She gave him a quick hug. "Good luck out there," she said. She and Colt nodded to each other, and she gave him a pat on an arm the size of a tree trunk.
"Thanks, Sarah," said Martin. As she left them she heard him say, "And you're not even thinking about Ian Anderson."
She was a little too far to hear Colt's response, but she thought it was, "The man's a flutist, not a guitar player."
There were dozens of men and women bustling around backstage, moving and connecting equipment. Testing communication with other men and women out of sight. Handling the other musicians and their friends.
She passed Casey and Marty in their security guard uniforms and nodded to them.
The crowd was taking their seats. The theater held 17,500 patrons and the concert was sold out, despite the short notice. Mostly people her own age or a bit younger. The sun had dropped below the hills surrounding them, but the sky above was still bright. The night would be dark, though, by the time the music started. With the setting sun, the temperature dropped and the night promised to be beautiful.
She met Zondra and the two women began to recon the area, watching and waiting. They were almost certain that Van Mulder would make his play sometime during the evening. It would be too early yet, as Martin was still backstage in his dressing room, but that didn't stop them from maintaining the high alert status.
Chuck informed them all of anything interesting, but at the moment there wasn't much that drew his attention.
The opening act came out and got started. The crowd danced in place and rocked with the music, which wasn't bad for a relatively unknown band. About forty-five minutes later, they ended to applause and the roadies came out to clear away their gear and replace it with the gear and instruments from Martin's band.
Fifteen minutes later, right around 9pm, the main act was ready to come on stage. In her ear, Sarah heard Chuck announce to all of his teams, "Showtime."
Shadowed by Colt, Martin came out of his dressing room and made it to the stage. Spread backstage were Casey, Marco and Marty as uniformed security keeping an eye on all of the crew and event personnel.
Leaving Colt in the wings, Martin walked out to center stage triumphantly, as if he'd just won a race. With a huge grin, and motioning with his hands to quell the thunderous applause
"HELLO LOS ANGELES. HELLO. TONIGHT IS A CHARITY CONCERT FOR THE POLICE FOUNDATION. GIVE IT UP FOR THE POLICE."
He began to clap, but the young crowd booed the police.
Martin again motioned for quiet and said, his amplified voice echoing with the sound system. "Now stop that. Stop that. I don't want to 'ear that anymore. My good mate Gavin was murdered 'ere in Los Angeles just a few days ago and your police 'ave been a bunch of good lads. They've been nothing but considerate and 'elpful with me. You bought your tickets for the concert to 'elp them and that's what we're going to do. And, while we're at it, I want to thank all the other 'umanitarians 'o've affected my work. Mother Teresa. Nelson Mandela, God rest his soul. And my personal favorite, Angelina Jolie."
The audience cheered and applauded and Martin turned as one of his band members said something to him. He turned back to the audience and said, "Jerry tells me Nelson Mandela is still alive. I'm delighted and want to send him two tickets to my next concert." There was applause and laughter.
Someone strummed on a guitar. The drummer began to tap out a rhythm. Within moments, Martin was singing one of his tunes.
Sarah and Zondra stayed in the front row and danced in place while looking anywhere but at the band onstage. Casey, Marco, and Marty moved constantly backstage with a handful of undercover police, keeping an eye behind Martin. The LAPD snipers watched the hills. Colt stood in the wings of the stage, watching the crowd. The rest of the men and women looking for Van Mulder were spread throughout the crowd alert for any danger. Meanwhile, Chuck kept in touch with them all, although the noise of the music made it a challenge to hear each other even with the earwigs.
The first indication of a problem came from the left side of the audience about forty-five minutes into Martin's show. White smoke began to slowly spread up from under a seat. Moments later a quick series of detonations occurred in the same spot. Chuck called out to the teams what he could see on the monitors. Some heard him, some didn't.
In two other spots the same phenomenon occurred. Smoke and detonations. The crowd began to panic and push away from the edge and toward the middle of the seats. Some people fell and were trampled. The combination of security forces, undercover police, and Chuck's teams did their best to stabilize things, but for the first few minutes they weren't even too sure what the hell was going on. Were the detonations gunfire?
It took Chuck yelling into the communications net to try to organize a response. Get Martin to protection. Stop a stampede of the audience. Catch a killer.
Backstage was a mess. Smoke drifted in from the outside. Men and women were running here and there. The band was leaving the stage and wondering where to go amid the mayhem. Martin was still onstage imploring the crowd to calm.
A security guard ran past Casey, heading towards Martin. Casey noticed bulge of a weapon under the man's uniform shirt, and knew that the actual security guards weren't armed. He grabbed at the man's arm. The man slipped out of Casey's grip and smashed a palm into the side of Casey's head, staggering him back.
Casey threw a quick left jab at the man knocking his black uniform cap from his head. As Casey was stepping forward to swing a right cross, he noticed that the man, who had brown eyes a moment earlier, now had one brown eye and one very pale blue eye. Van Mulder was missing a contact lens.
Van Mulder twisted and kicked Casey in the stomach, forcing him to stumble back. The killer sprinted away from him and toward Martin, who was standing with Colt by that time. Casey began yelling into his watch as Chuck vectored reinforcements from elsewhere towards Van Mulder.
Colt shoved Martin behind him and drew his own weapon, but Van Mulder was quick and knocked Colt's gunhand aside, snarling , "Fuck you, kaffir."
Colt smashed him on the side of his head, knocking him flying a few feet through the air.
The teams directed by Chuck were headed towards the action, as the chaos among the audience seemed to be diminishing as the smoke dissipated.
Van Mulder looked at the size of Martin's bodyguard and saw a swarm of security men headed his way. As at the Studio when he first targeted Martin, he knew when to run away. He turned and sprinted towards the back of the half-dome building.
Bursting out the back door into the utility alley, slamming the door behind him, gun now in his hand, he heard a woman's cold voice behind him.
"Freeze. Drop the gun or you're dead," the woman's voice said.
He stopped frozen where he stood. Very slowly, not moving his gun at all, he twisted his head to the side until he was looking at her over his shoulder with two different colored eyes.
She was a gorgeous blonde dressed in a short skirt and flowered blouse with a denim vest. The gun in her hand was rock steady. Her eyes were blue and deadly cold.
"And you are?" he asked with curiosity.
"Walker." She hadn't moved.
His eyes widened with surprise. "Ah, the Ice Queen. I'm a fan of your work." He almost smiled at her.
"Then you know I won't miss, Van Mulder. Drop the gun."
He nodded his head a little, almost pensively. "I'm not keen on spending the rest of my life in a cage. Do you happen to know if California has the death penalty?"
"It doesn't," the Ice Queen said.
"Ah. Pity," he said. He spun around, trying to bring his weapon up to point towards Sarah.
She fired twice, both bullets piercing his heart. Keeping him in her gunsights, she stepped forward and kicked the gun from his hand.
Lying on the concrete at her feet, the man smiled at her slightly and whispered, "Thank you."
"You're welcome," stone-faced, she replied quietly.
His body went slack as life left him.
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When the chaos of the smoke bombs and what had proven to be strings of firecrackers had been quelled, thankfully, no one was hurt.
Martin, now knowing his friend's killer had himself been killed in a gunfight with Sarah, went back out on stage and played for another two hours. The concert didn't end until well after midnight and the last hour had been characterized by a joyous dance party in which the entire audience participated. Chuck came down from the booth and he, Sarah, and members of his team danced along with all the others. Booker and Chen danced with Zondra and some random woman fan.
Casey and Colt stood backstage in the wings watching. At one point Colt glanced at Casey to see him nodding his head along to the music, but that stopped instantly when he realized he'd been caught enjoying himself.
The concert over and the audience leaving, Martin went back to his dressing room. Chuck and Sarah joined him.
"Thanks, my friends. You took care of that bastard. I'll be eternally grateful. Now I can face Gavin's parents with my 'ead 'eld 'igh. 'Ere," he gave them each a glass of vodka, brimming almost overflowing. "It's time to party."
"Tyler, I don't think this is a good idea," said Chuck.
"Chuck, all the best nights of my life have started with that very sentence," he said with a grin.
Both Chuck and Sarah laughed at that. They clicked the vodka glasses with him and drank up.
Sarah looked at Chuck and said, "Well, just a little partying wouldn't kill us."
Chuck grinned back at her and said, "Right. I'll let Z and the others know."
They smiled at each other with love.
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A/N2: The k-word. Yup. In South Africa what Van Mulder called Colt is so reviled that it's now referred to as the "k-word." I apologize if anyone was offended by my putting that epithet into Van Mulder's mouth. I wanted to make him despicable.
A/N3: And that's that. The end of the Martin Arc. Let me know how I did, please. New arc begins next Saturday. Next up, it ain't over until...