It was an ordinary industrial neighborhood, squalid and destitute. It was the same as the street Beckett's car had been sneaking down. And the partners had to sweat a lot, wandering through the nooks and scaring the natives with questions, and when the couple finally passed the next polluted wasteland, then from the road the partners saw the desired building behind the rusty mesh fence, where there was not a soul, and the same rusty gates were open wide.
Beckett hesitated to go inside, however. After sitting in thought, she checked the weapon, not forgetting to squint at the writer: tapping on the "torpedo" with fingertips, Castle with all his appearance expressed readiness. And, noticing the close attention to himself, immediately perked up:
- What?!
- I think this is it. The most recent address where the former volunteers were based.
Looking out the window at the universal embodiment of chaos, Castle thoughtfully scratched his right cheek.
- I don't know what size turkey lured them here. It's just a hole! Except that ... the rent was less than a penny, but one concession in one thing is often paid for in another!
- Let's check it out,- and Kate was the first one out of the car. - You coming, Castle?!
- Yes! - he got out with such a noise, so loudly and ruthlessly slammed the door that the detective's eyes twisted in orbits against her will. - What's the plan, 'A' or 'B'?"
- "C," - Kate shook her head reproachfully. - Why can't we keep it down somehow? The police don't want noise, do they!
- You're the police, and I was just passing by, - Castle was only momentarily embarrassed. - Well, I'm ready. Who's in charge now?
- Well, not the universe! - Beckett answered her partner in complete seriousness.
They entered a vast, once spacious, but now extremely cluttered yard: frame trucks, cars with open hoods and empty doorways, shabby minivans with flat tires, and even a half-disassembled excavator without a bucket.
- This is clearly a car-cannibal's business! - Castle's eyes darted from side to side as Rick tried to see any sign of the car he was looking for. - Don't you think, Kate, that we ought to check the yard before we look at the workshops? What if we find something here, too?!
- Find it first, Castle! - and her hand habitually touched the flap of her holster. - Everyone's a braggart, but when it comes down to it.
Adjusting the lapel of his shirt, Castle only smirked enigmatically.
- It just seems like bragging, but you'll learn to take my messages as they should be. And since you and I are still partners, I consider it a matter of honor to bring our investigation to its logical conclusion. Whatever it takes!
And in this it was impossible not to agree with him, and when Castle, taking the right from the driveway to the main building, silently walked forward, Kate with a glance followed him.
An hour and a half of wandering among the car wrecks, unfortunately, did not yield anything, only Kate almost tore a pant leg on the iron sticking out to the side, and Castle made a solid bump on his head: trying to look at the remains of a rare, seemingly car from the inside and then getting out, Rick too quickly straightened up, and now, involuntarily touching the sore spot, writhing and silently swearing. It touched Kate's heart, and she vowed to send his partner to Lainey at the first opportunity.
- I think it's here, - Castle paused briefly at the entrance to the building, but then suddenly quickened his pace. - And I've got a compulsive tingling in my fingertips, which is a telltale sign of a really promising search. And, Beckett, aren't you excited?!
- I don't see why I should be excited, Castle! We don't have a result yet!
- With me, it will be!
Now they stood side by side before the massive, once gray gate, the only one open to all four adjoining boxes, and which, like all the iron in this blighted place, bore the stamp of ruin and desolation. Peeled, layers of paint, huge ugly hinges, smeared with something over the rust, and just a giant bolt with a hinge, on which a fairly new lock was snapped by the shackle.
- It's not just a cemetery, -Castle said philosophically, glancing at the dim lights above the oil-splattered inspection pit, - maybe we can see something here that we haven't seen before. And if the owner of this place is not a nice "fluffy" but a real hell-devil, then he may possess some secret knowledge that will not be revealed to the first person we meet...
- What are you talking about?" Beckett raised an eyebrow: the hangar was empty, which made it possible to argue with Castle in a low voice, and at the same time to think over the direction of future searches. - Based on what you and I have seen here, the tenant is mostly repairing machinery, so obvious things usually don't require confirmation. It's like ironclad evidence from a crime scene or a whole set of indisputable logical facts that fit into the overall picture of what happened and confirmed by acts of expertise. After all, we are now just testing our general theory, and the worst thing that can happen is to spoil everything with our vanity and carelessness. Do I make myself clear?
- Well, there I go again... - Rick didn't elaborate on his thought, but just waved his hand carelessly. - Why do you have to ruin my plans without even listening to me? I just...
- Shut up, Castle, - she said angrily, biting her fingernail carelessly. - Tell me, do you see a black van anywhere?
- I'll see it, if it's not hidden somewhere under an invisible canopy, or the Fairy Godmother isn't flying it over our heads somewhere...
Trying not to make much noise, the partners got inside the workshop, which made a strange and even horrifying impression: frozen elevators with dusty buttons, a mountain of iron and plastic canisters near the entrance to some room, to the right of the partners and deep inside. Racks with rags and slides of tools, crooked stacks of worn wheel rims and tires right at the entrance and the foul chemical-scented air. One could immediately assume that the landlord-lessee's business was not going well, and we could only guess what he was living on in real life. And to confirm his guesses, it was necessary, at least, to communicate.
Since there was no sign of the van she was looking for, Beckett shouted loudly and confidently into the darkness:
- Hey, is anyone here? - And somewhere in the back of the closed room to the right, footsteps rumbled. The door creaked open.
- I'm coming, - said a man, and after a few minutes, in spite of the gloom, the partners were able to get a good look at him. He was a white man, taller than average, broad-shouldered and slightly hunched, wearing dirty overalls and ragged sneakers. His face was grim and disgruntled, his greasy hair was disheveled, and in his hand he held a short crowbar.
- What do you want? - The guy asked in a very impolite manner. - Are you lost, by any chance?
The owner stood a few yards away from his partners, but the stench from his mouth made Beckett shudder inwardly. Castle didn't seem to care, though.
- Uh, how may I address you, sir? - Rick peeked out excitedly.
- My name is Simon.
- You see, Simon, I'm Richard Castle, the writer, and this is my personal secretary Kate. As part of our patronage of charitable organizations, we go around personally to talk to the management and make sure that the sponsorship money goes exclusively to God's work, and is not embezzled or misappropriated. You know, you can't trust anyone these days, so...
And Castle launched into a lengthy discourse, speaking brightly, figuratively, with fire, trying to cause in the interlocutor understanding and interest. And Beckett was ready to forgive his partner her comparison with his secretary, as suddenly Simon's face was horribly distorted.
- You've made a mistake, gentlemen, - he burped disgustedly into his partners' faces. - All the volunteers, even if they were here, have long since moved out. I don't need new tenants either. And anyway, I have too little time to waste on charity stories. Is that all you have?
- Do you take cars in for repairs? Cause I see you got a lot of rarities around here.
Simon regurgitated again, and his deep-set caddy jutted under his jaw.
- First of all, I don't know what kind of retrocars we're talking about, and secondly, you're not in the District, sir, to make any kind of deal with you. I don't know you, and I don't want to know you, and frankly, I'm sick and tired of both of you. Do you want me to help you clean up, or do you want to find your own way out?
He eloquently tapped his free palm with a crowbar.
The partners looked at each other puzzled - the conversation had reached an impasse, and even Castle's eternal eloquence had not played its part. Kate decided to pause for a moment.
She turned her back to Simon, and looking at her partner, Castle turned around. However, the writer's face clearly reflected the intense work of thought, and just a couple of steps later, Castle held Beckett's sleeve - they had not even had time to move away from the pit.
- Do you believe in the transmigration of souls, Beckett?
She looked at him with genuine amazement.
- Castle, really? And you think that I, a police officer, should only be guided by afterlife manuals in my job? If I ever believed in such nonsense, it was because of my nanny, who was ruthlessly kicked out. So, no, Castle, I don't believe in spirits!
And Kate was about to break free, but Castle's fingers held tightly to the fabric. And her partner's gaze was so intense, so focused, that Beckett's insides twitched unpleasantly.
- No, but still... - Rick was dead serious. - Our lives are so unpredictable. What are the odds of two different people using the same shoe?
Beckett took a few seconds to digest what she'd heard, then involuntarily sank her teeth into her own fingernail.
- Not much. Unless you're talking about a felony. And I still don't understand who you're comparing to whom... But even if you do, what makes you think you've seen the same shoes? Do you know how much competition there is in this field? Yes on the market every year thrown hundreds of thousands of pairs of shoes, all colors and colors, and some tens of thousands are imported into New York. So it's not surprising if two people have been to the same fair or sale, and have chosen something similar.
- That's true, - Castle agreed in a vibrating whisper, - but if you take Simon and the feet that graced the dumpster near Hannah's murder scene, both have a rainbow paint stain on the toe of the right sneaker, and there's a colored insert missing from the outside of the ankle. And you may have noticed that the dude has a slight tippy toe, and the sole on that "trash digger" was stomped down asymmetrically. That's why I asked about the possibility of-
- What? - and they turned to Simon at almost the same time, the latter's mouth twisted in distaste, his hand sagging along his body with the rod.
There was a tense pause, the tinkle of the fallen bar, and Castle, as if in a slow-motion video file, stared point-blank at Simon and saw his slightest movement: Here, with a half-turn of the body clockwise, twitched forward left shoulder; here, sliding down the thigh and to the right, disappeared from view right arm; here Simon, loading the left leg, subtly swayed forward, and the right arm began to bend smoothly at the elbow. And not yet seeing it fully, but physically feeling the persistent hatred and implacable hostility of the type, Castle suddenly realized that they were about to be shot at. And, avoiding the irreparable, strong, sharp, impulsive push swept Beckett to the floor, right behind a pile of worn tires, and the second ruthless bullet, with an unpleasant characteristic sound, pecked the rubber somewhere near Kate's head ...
- ...what? Castle, get off me! - she mercilessly shoved his heavy and hot body off her and, grabbing the gun habitually, fired a couple or two bullets in his intended direction. - Stay here! You have no defense!
- ... but you have me! - He grumbled, nervously squawking at the hot shell casing that bounced into his cheek. - But that doesn't seem to mean anything. Since you have a gun... And all I have is a sophisticated mind...
- Shut up, Castle! - and her sharp elbow stabbed him painfully in the side. - Let me hear it!
And they, huddled into the muddy tires, they listened to their surroundings, but Simon apparently didn't push his luck - he just walked away.
They waited alone for a couple more minutes, and when Kate, sprinting and pistol-wielding, surveyed the entire area and found no one, she immediately grabbed the phone, calling for a team.
And all her thoughts so far had been occupied solely with work, but the man who had just saved her life was to be commended. And, to her shame, Beckett couldn't openly admit to anyone that, even with all her considerable experience, she hadn't reacted properly, nearly getting shot and letting the suspect get away. She didn't recognize a clear threat, but her "book boy" did. And he did it with the skill and speed of a man who was clearly not only in civilian life, and so Kate was tempted to ask him a couple of questions in the forehead, but Castle ... again and inimitably fooled: from somewhere took a pair of elongated collars in the manner of cold weapons, Rick fiercely fought with an imaginary shadow. Puffing, crouching, making lightning-fast lunges with one hand and the other; retreating, going into a dumb defense, and attacking again... on a rusty rack piled with some stinking rags. And only when the sagging shreds of cloth were scattered on the floor did Castle utter a triumphant cry, and with a clear, typing stride he strode toward Beckett, dropping one armed arm along his body, and the other holding the collar, like a musketeer's sword, vertically in front of his face.
And Beckett was immediately relieved: no, she'd just imagined it, and now the real Castle was playing a prank on her. Which should be carefully praised, so as not to build up his already hypertrophied ego ...
- Happy baptism of fire, Castle. - and her gun went into its holster. - Did he get scared or not? You could have asked Lanie for a sedative!
- I'd rather ask her for a couple Big Macs, but I don't think there's room for them in her anatomy bag. And chlorine buns are not what I'd want...
And Beckett aside, smiled demurely: no, Castle was definitely fine, and they would discuss all the nuances of the operation sometime later...
... They found the black van in the backyard, under an inconspicuous tarp. All they had to do was shower and change.
- Well, I'm almost like them! - admiring in the mirror at the small burn on his left cheek, Castle proudly stuck out his chest. - And I really went through a baptism of fire! And scars- i.e., burns- make a man. Yes!
The writer's mood, as never before, was at its height - that light firefight, in which they got involved today, saturated his blood with adrenaline and colorfully enriched the writer's soul with emotions. And he's sure to use this episode in one of his novels, and frame it in such a way as to knock the abundant reader saliva. And then there's a chance to move up a notch in the dues and expand his circle of admirers. And that is bound to happen, yes, when the personal business is done with...
Smiling broadly and humming a cheerful tune, Rick had barely had time to pour himself a cup of coffee when a noise arose and grew steadily behind the wall of the room: it was like a swarm of angry bees searching for prey, and when the bewildered Castle with a mug in his hand stood on the doorstep, the office was already in turmoil. Sloppily thrown chairs creaked, gun drawers slammed, and the cops, one by one and in clusters, rushed for the exit. Esposito was gone, Ryan had been gone since lunch, and only Beckett, who had jumped up from her seat, was hurriedly pulling on her fancy beige jacket.
- Cate, what's wrong? - Trying not to spill the precious contents of the mug, Castle hurried over to her desk. - Why the rush?
Checking her weapon, she didn't dignify him with a glance, only answered excitedly, with a barely perceptible huff:
- Ryan called - the explosion at the mall! And if you're going, stay away from the walls!
Castle thought for only a fraction of a second: exactly long enough to free her hands without spilling something on her desk.
- As a Cub Scout! You have my word!