Confession Chapter 8
In his home office, Castle settles into the desk chair well molded to his sizable frame and logs onto his computer. Deciding to follow the most straightforward of Cleton's suggestions, he locates the NYCLU's NYPD Misconduct Complaint Database and begins his search, entering 2000, the earliest available year. The listings are separate for each day of that year, leaving him hundreds to slog through. He doesn't know most of the other criteria, but he can search by name and precinct. Nothing comes up for either Raglan or McCallister. Maybe, without Bracken's protection, they'd crawled back into the woodwork by then. He's more successful with the 34th Precinct, coming up with repeats on several names. Well, Cleton said there were at least six. Maybe these were holdovers from the Bracken days, or maybe just bad cops. Either way, 2000 is too recent to have much impact, if any, on Beckett's case.
Castle decides to try another tack. There's no way he can get into police records without help from a cop – or a talented hacker. But he has a subscription to Lexis-Nexis, which means access to articles written back a lot further than the Bracken D.A. era. Bracken held an elected position, which means he would have needed PR to get votes. In the pre-internet era, that would have meant getting his name in the news media as often as he could. He would have cast himself in the best possible light. But there are always investigative reporters like Woodward and Bernstein – or Castle's Rook. They would do their best to uncover the dark side. Castle immediately hears the sonorous tones of James Earl Jones' Darth Vader in his mind but wards them off. No black helmet and hissing breath signify Bracken's evil intent. His followers get only an engaging smile from a mouth spewing lies.
Castle decides to start 20 years before and work back. The photos of Bracken show him as boyishly handsome and often surrounded by adoring volunteers. His speeches are full of promises to clean up the streets and put criminals where they belong. He spouts friendship and support for the NYPD, using several cops as props during his speeches. Castle blows up the images as much as he can, checking the captions for names. None of them are Raglan and McCallister. No surprise there. Those two would have wanted to stay as invisible as possible. But there are others: Dan Reilly, Chuck Sims, and Jimmy Cormack. Castle decides to check them out individually.
Dan Reilly rose through the ranks to become captain at the 34th – that figures – then retired and moved to Florida. "Hmm," vibrates through Castle's lips, "killed in an accident while deep sea fishing. Wonder if Bracken thought he knew too much?"
Chuck Sims moved to Texas to work security in the oil fields. "Killed in a freak accident," Castle mutters. "There's a pattern here. I wonder how Jimmy Cormack met his death."
Jimmy Cormack didn't meet his death at all. He joined Bracken's congressional campaign, then moved to D.C. with him, as his chief of security. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?" Castle muses. "Or maybe Mr. Cormack excels in staging accidents." He checks the time on his screen. It's a little late to call a friend to chit-chat, but he knows that D.C.- based thriller writer, David Balderon, keeps vampire-like hours.
Castle picks up his phone. "Hi, David, it's Rick Castle."
"Yeah, Ricky. I heard you got your muse shot. She going to be all right?"
"Yeah, the doctors think so. And she's already spitting bullets wanting to get back to work. But I didn't get her shot. Well, maybe that's not entirely true. Because of me, it was no secret where she was going to be. But I believe the root of the crime goes back a lot further, at least two decades. And right now the strings are being pulled from D.C."
"You're not thinking about stomping all over my turf, are you Ricky? You seem to be doing pretty well writing about New York."
"I'm not interested in invading your territory, David. But the Chicago cops are useless and I think some of the NYPD may be covering up. What do you know about a Jimmy Cormack? He's the security chief for Senator Bracken."
"I know who he is, Ricky. I make it my business to know who the players are here, and Bracken's become one of the bigger ones. Rumor is he's looking at a presidential run."
Castle feels his throat constricting. "Oh, God! If he's what I think…. Never mind. What do you know about Cormack?"
"He's Bracken's fixer. When Bracken has a problem, Cormack's supposed to handle it – by whatever means necessary. And Cormack's got his own squad, not characters you'd invite to tea. Bracken's not fussy as long as nothing blows back on him. So far nothing has."
"So far." Castle repeats.
"Ricky, if you think you can go after Bracken, even in a novel, you'd better be damn careful," David warns. "And if you think someone on Cormack's squad took out Beckett, they're not going to miss twice."
"You know who they are?"
"No names. But I've heard descriptions. The most dangerous one would make a great character. He's supposed to have icy blue eyes that can nail you to the wall from across the room."
"The DNA the Chicago techs got showed the shooter had blue eyes."
"Ricky, if I were you, I'd pray it's not the same guy."
Castle tosses his phone on his desk and presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. Everything he finds out just makes Kate's situation look worse. Will the killer come after Kate again? He can't let that happen. It's a secure building, but a little extra security can't hurt. A lot of extra security can't hurt. Right now, a commando squad wouldn't sound like a half-bad idea.
From Martha's days in movies with big stars, Rick's met a lot of security people. Many of them were cops or ex-cops trying to earn some decent money. But a few, the ones who guarded the most controversial stars, were ex-military, usually seals or special ops. Later, he used one or two, heavily disguised, as characters in Storm books. One of the ablest ones put together his own firm and is now taking jobs. Castle resolves to get him on this job, ASAP.
At first glance, Isidore Kaplan doesn't look dangerous. His hair is short, but not military short, with a few strands of silver. He is well-muscled but without bodybuilder bulk. His effortless movements are almost silent. And his eyes could easily search a soul. "So, Rick, what you're telling me is you believe that a politician responsible for a string of murders, including that of Detective Beckett's mother, decided she was getting too close to uncovering the truth and had his guy send someone to kill her. And you're afraid he might try again."
"That's the gist of it, Kap, yeah,"
"So what kind of security do you want on her?"
"Whatever you think is necessary to do the job."
"And you know what that kind of job costs, don't you?"
"I don't care, Kap. Just keep her safe."
"Hell, you're in love with this chick, aren't you?"
"Yeah," Castle admits.
"Does she know that?"
"Sort of. It's complicated."
"Uh-huh. And what about you?"
Castle stares at Kaplan. "What about me what?"
"You followed Beckett around. You wrote about her. Wouldn't anyone who's put a contract out on her assume you might know what she knows? Right now, I'm guessing you know more. You could be in the crosshairs too."
"I hadn't thought about it."
Kap shakes his head. "Too busy thinking about the lady. You have got it bad!"
Castle sighs. "So what do I do?"
"About security? That part's easy. Hire me to protect both of you. But Cupid's arrows aren't my department."