- If you say so,- Simon shifted the weapon to his other hand, and then, without swinging, slammed it into Castle's lower abdomen, hitting him like a beam on the fly with such force that it pierced even his trained writer's abs.
And Rick fell heavily, groaning, to his knees, right into the crumbled cement and glass, and his sickly body turned inside out again. Simon prudently backed away, framing the violence with a caustic, hissing comment:
- It's to keep you off other people's property. Don't cheat.
... After waiting for Castle to stop blowing bubbles, Simon yanked him to his feet; poked him under the shoulder blade with his pistol and forced him to follow Roflin.
- I'll get to the van, - he said without turning, and quickened his pace. - I'd better swaddle the little dove...
- ...Well, that's it,- Roflin stepped back a few paces, looking for a place to step, and now admired his own handiwork, with Castle bound tightly to the chair. - Now you'll never escape, and no Storm (especially not in female form!) can help you. Now that you've finally nailed him yourself, I never liked him ...
He laughed, his voice husky and breathy, and Simon echoed him, clapping his hands softly.
- It was good, Sam: coil to coil, knot to knot. It's like a sewing bobbin, really, and it'll burn good. Is there anything you want to say?
- Maybe... - Rick spat as hard as he could and licked his lips, which were rough with blood clots. - This was a mistake, gentlemen. You'll never get away with this now, and you'll be punished adequately.
- Are you threatening us? - Roflin walked around the camera and now stared into the viewfinder. - I repeat again, for the weak-minded and arrogant, no one but Simon and I, and a couple of other people, know about this place. You can make yourself positive, you can even yell at the top of your lungs, but your benefit will remain a benefit. Simon, the mask!
A black knitted mask appeared from the mechanic's inner pocket, hiding his dirty, blackheaded face almost completely, but with slits for his eyes and mouth. Simon put on nitrile gloves and bowed foolishly.
- Well, I'm ready!
- And my last word? - Castle tried to breathe as evenly as possible, but the ropes were squeezing his body painfully. - And without any bragging, I can say that over the years, I've made it as a wordsmith. And let not everything in my texts is smooth and even, but this is my vision, and my admirers are not upset by such a question. Because author's work is hard, exhausting, often on the verge of failure, and it would be much easier for me, if I had stayed with the one I loved and for whom I would give my life. However, fate turned differently - the girl left, and I had to somehow exist without her. And I do not think that I did something wrong in front of her or, God forbid, betrayed, cheated on my love. And we had passion, there was chemistry, there was a powerful synthesis of bodies and characters, and not at all from that "chemistry" that you ruthlessly injected me. Oh, by the way, what is that? I've never felt such a jolt from the inside, not even after an ocean of whiskey.
The bandits looked at each other questioningly, and Sam's heavy hand dropped confidently to the ice-drill blade.
- You sticking to your guns? That's what you're all about: sticking your neck out, digging where it doesn't belong, and making friends with the cops. And you're trying to absolve yourself of guilt? It won't work, and there's a reason we gave you that particular drug. Just a little bit of it solves a lot of problems at once, and that's why you're here now, and in our power. But even so, to be honest, Castle, I'm not really in the mood to bare my soul to you. Even though it doesn't really make any sense anymore. Simon!
The tiny camera's tiny peephole flashed brightly with a ruby dot, and Simon strode over to the canisters, gloves clinking softly. Light as a feather, he picked one up and, unscrewing the cork as he went, walked behind the chair. The spilled liquid rumbled, and the air immediately smelled sharply and disgustingly of fuel. And confidently walking Simon, methodically gurgling, dutifully sprinkled it on the stacks of books, the legs of the chair and, a little - the writer's shoes...
- Should I sprinkle it on his head or not? - Simon's question was as mundane as if it were a question of how rare a steak was. - Or should I... is he done for now?
- Get a longer track,- Sam clicked off the camera screen and poked and prodded at it, adjusting it to fit. - You don't want to split his woo...
- ... freeze! Hands in the air! Castle, you okay?
- Beckett?! - his heart felt like it had been shot through with the sudden arrival of his partner, and, overjoyed, Castle instantly squinted his eyes: two silhouettes separated from the side wall, hard to make out in the semi-darkness, and one, in a persistent almond cloud (whose kerosene-filled vibe Rick didn't immediately notice!), was undoubtedly Detective Beckett. - I'm fine, but where are you from...
- Just doing my job. So shut up, Castle, and you- Yes, you! Both of you! I'm not kidding!
Esposito wasn't kidding, either. He held the gun tightly in his hand, and the perps were seconds away from throwing it at his strong, trained body. True, there was not a pound of anxiety in them.
- That bitch again, the pseudo-secretary,- Simon snorted unhappily, dropping the canister beneath his feet, and the fingers of his hands shuddered lightly and uncertainly. - I could smell with my tailbone that something wrong was going on...
- It doesn't matter,- Sam grinned wryly, glancing at the cops, who were moving in an arc at intervals, moving closer and closer to the prisoner, keeping the criminal couple in sight. - The bad thing was that I had miscalculated a bit, and I had miscalculated the abilities of the local police. But is this oaf worth your being here?
- It's worth it, and you missed one key point, asshole,- Beckett was both frightening and beautiful in anger, and, nervously biting her lips, Castle stared at her with uninterrupted admiration. - Partners don't leave each other!
- Partner? - Sam grinned wryly, taking a couple steps away from the camera and, obeying the characteristic gesture of Esposito's trunk, pulled out his ice axe with two fingers and dropped it to the ground. - This asshole is your partner? He's a no-good, fucking upstart! And every single one of his books is just a worthless, empty mold of his miserable life; a tearful, disconnected from life fantasy and indescribably deepest delusion! There are a hundred such authors in every pub on Broadway! And they, like cockroaches, can be stupidly killed with chemistry or simply strung on skewers! Or maybe even, easily and inevitably. Burn them!
And then something characteristically, springily clicked: it was a zippo that suddenly appeared in Simon's powerful "claw", but he had no time to ignite the fuel - Esposito was faster. A shot rang out, and the dark jersey was pierced with lead just above the cut of the eye. Simon sobbed in astonishment and collapsed to the ground where he stood. He threw aside the lighter, which flared but did no harm, and the whole body twitched nervously, dropping bubbles of blood from his lips.
Roflin was luckier: he ducked behind the column with a powerful throw, with a deft, practiced somersault over his head, and from there he opened fire at point-blank range - he was answered by both cops, who slipped out of the line of fire, and Castle, who was tied up, waited with bated breath for the outcome. A single shot would have been enough to eliminate the writer from the list of the living, but when, amid the whistle of bullets, Rick was already mentally saying goodbye to his loved ones, the Lord opened a divine protective dome over the world: all of Roflin's shots rang out past the trio, and, fearlessly jumping over the bundle of books, Esposito was the first to be near Castle. In a half crouch, with a blade prepared on the fly, in two swings he severed the bindings on the author's right hand, in which he immediately put the knife.
- I'll take it from here! - and Javier winked encouragingly at Castle. - And I'll back Beckett up!
...crouching behind one of the columns near the camera and carefully exposing the brush, Beckett concentrated on shooting at the departing Roflin: making indescribable zigzags between the pillars, he broke through unharmed to the far dark corner, where he disappeared into the breach in the wall. And almost already freed himself Castle, staring tensely at the backs of colleagues, prayed now only for their happy fate. But the cops did not know about his pleas: with all precautions and covering each other, Kate and Espo hid in the breach, and, after a while, from the street came the rumble of diesel engines, loud screams and gunshots. And all that eerie, heartbreaking cacophony of sounds only encouraged Castle to move his legs more intensely.
...throwing away the rope noose cut from his wrist and stepping widely over the ruined volumes, Rick hurried outside: without his close involvement, the finale could not be complete, and all his bright authorial nature loudly protested against any uncertainty, much less understatement. And in order for the language of his writing to continue not to be depleted, it is necessary to see everything for yourself. Even if the stern and unyielding Beckett were to kick his ears for disobedience...
...slightly out of breath, through an uneven brick doorway, Castle climbed out into the yard: it was as unkept and littered as Simon's farmyard, but there was no need for a long and fruitless search: the denouement of his story happened near the gate, in the massive right post of which the medical van had crashed into. At the van of kidnappers were already bustling figures (and Castle from his seat recognized whose they were!), and the evening air of the street was already exploding with the sparks of sirens. Their growing hum drowned out any noise around them, but these shrill sounds were now dearer to Castle than a hundred selected singles. And, limping slightly, Rick hurried into the thick of things.
... He was greeted neutrally and discreetly, particularly by Perlmutter, but Lainie waved a friendly hello and went back to collecting evidence. Esposito merely squinted at his colleague and opened the back doors of the van, peering inside, while Beckett frowned intently at the driver's side door, which was mangled into an accordion.
When Rick came closer, he saw the driver, too, motionless and frozen in his seat, a horribly disfigured mass: Sam was slumped over the steering wheel, his left hand sticking out of the window with bloody fingernails.
With gloved hands, Kate carefully unwrapped the dead man's hand and, after a brief dialog with Perlmutter, who was examining the body with a magnifying glass, approached Castle. Rick brightened with joy.
- How did you find me?
She raised an eyebrow nonchalantly.
- I was just doing my job!
- А... how thorough was the approach?! If you were missing the most important link in your team.
- Enough, Mr. Castle, and more than enough.
- Enough to find and punish those responsible?
- Enough not to have to file someone's autopsy report.
- Got it... - Castle clapped his hand over his mouth, but he was silent for a moment, listening to the hints on the fly. - But with all due respect for your investigative methods, I would never have believed you, detective, had nothing to fall back on.
Beckett gave him a scrutinizing, appraising look - even in the face of death, Rick didn't look scared or worried about his scalp. And people like him, and for a word in his pocket, and will persist, which now implies that Castle will not get rid of her for anything. Even if she tries to kick him out. Even if she will stubbornly ignore, because the events that united her and Castle, as well as their successful outcome, made it safe to say that Mr. Castle's baptism of fire has been successful. Where each of the two of them, in the most difficult circumstances, showed themselves at their best. Which means Castle has a chance, a chance to stay at the station a little longer than usual. Because no one really knows where this partnership is going to take them. And the only thing that now worried and worried Kate - is that Castle did not accidentally cross her personal "red line". And for this, rigidly and uncompromisingly, in the relationship between them will establish a distance, and will remain only to observe, and analyze from the outside.
Yes, that's the only way, and Beckett smiled tiredly, understandingly.
- ... you're not gonna let go of me now, are you?
- No!- Rick shook his head so vigorously that Kate's eyes flashed. - Not for the treasures of the world! So, how'd it go?
- How? - fumbling for her cell phone in her pocket, she deliberately prolonged the pause. - It's simple: even though the perpetrators were dressed as paramedics, one of the witnesses thought it strange that they both limped. Also, the car's body paint had a specific, different shade from the factory. Also, while we were at the blast site, we got some information from the big brothers. Specifically on Simon Yonghi. Ex-military, ex-mercenary, badly injured, hence the limp. Your "friend" Roflin, no concrete prints, no DNA. In fact, the papillary patterns on his fingers are zeroed out.
Castle immediately adopted a very thoughtful and focused pose.
- I'm guessing they're mercenaries, and they blew up the mall and machine-gunned the city just for boredom.
- Boredom?
- Of course. And also for revenge. I mean, if Roflin had managed to strap me in for the first kill, none of this bad stuff would have happened afterward. Hannah wouldn't have been killed, I wouldn't have been kidnapped, and the town wouldn't have been in an uproar. And detective Beckett would never have learned that even people far removed from crime can be a tangible asset to the cops.
- Are you talking about you?!
- I'm talking about the situation at hand. Can't you see, Beckett, that the universe is giving us a sign, a wink and a bump. In a good and beneficial way, of course, and you can't, you can't deny the obvious.
- A sign, you say?!
- A sign indeed! A heavenly verb, the power of divine light and the poignancy of interaction. And angels are about to cover us with their wings to give birth to understanding and trust between us.
- Angels?
- God is witness!
- Mutual understanding and trust?
- I don't want to write another novel!
Castle was impossible, in its childlike directness, and Kate even grinned to herself. And the way Castle literally ate her eyes, what indescribable delight shone on his face could not make Kate refuse him. Saying goodbye for the day would be worth it, though. To call her father unexpectedly, to yank a glass of whiskey from one of her boyfriends, and then, in the morning, to come to the station, and, in the presence of Castle, to open a new page for herself and her friends. Because, on second thought, the events surrounding her new partner had shaken her up considerably, and partly infected her soul with something so strange and atypical. But she wouldn't tell anyone about it, lest her friends jump to conclusions, and certainly not Castle. I think he's done for the day. And her, of course.
- See you tomorrow, Castle, - and Kate smiled atypically for herself - kindly and homely, and slowly strolled to the car left behind the fence, waving one hand and shoving the other in his pocket. And Castle, who stared at her uninterruptedly, suddenly felt uncomfortable and even lonely: after all, Kate and Esposito had just saved his life, and he was not accustomed to remain in debt. And with every cell in his body, every nerve ending, Castle felt the tantalizing pull of Beckett, and, damn it, you'd have to be a big idiot not to unknowingly give in to it. There was and would be nothing reprehensible or outrageous about it, and here it was, his future field of endeavor - he would write another book. And not about some mythical "secret agent", but about a female detective - smart, beautiful, determined and sexy, and although the author will try to avoid very obvious hints, Kate will recognize herself. And he will definitely realize that she will recognize her, which will undoubtedly make his author's self-esteem swell once again. And who knows where his/her mutual acquaintance will take him/her. After all, Kate is a strong and secretive person, with clearly experienced personal drama, and it is not easy to get into her soul. But it is unlikely that Beckett will be worse from the fact that next to her there will be a cheerful and handsome guy that will combine his creativity with an undoubtedly useful for society, which means that their cooperation promises to be exciting and positive. And he will be tactful with her and careful, until Kate says that she can completely trust him. And signs of trust he, Castle, will surely wait...