Confession Chapter 50
Castle gazes at the soaring floor-to-ceiling wooden bookshelves with reverence. His own library is extensive, including not only what fills a substantial portion of the loft, but what he has in storage as well. Still, it doesn't embrace as many volumes nor is it as wide-ranging as this one. He and Beckett are there primarily to look into Gorlois' family history. Still, this sanctuary of the written word holds so many possibilities, that he could see spending months or years exploring them. He feels Beckett nudge his arm. "Come on, Castle. We need to get to work."
Fortunately, Gore was accurate in referring to himself as a librarian and was devoted to the task. A card catalog stands as a testament to his earlier efforts at categorization. A computer holds a digitized version established when the technology became available. Castle takes a seat in front of the keyboard and moves the mouse. The screen comes to life. "Hmm, I was sure this thing would at least request a password. I had all sorts of arcane possibilities in mind. Perhaps Gore didn't feel security was necessary or rarely shut it down."
"Either way, it's good for us," Kate says, dragging up a heavy antique chair to sit beside the writer.
Castle's fingers arch over the keys. "Gorlois." Entries fill the screen. "The family obviously enjoyed keeping its history. And from the reference numbers, these books should all be in the same section." The floor creaks as he pushes out of his chair and returns to the shelves. He points at a chest-high area in the center of the stacks. "And here they are. I think I'll start where all of my stories start, at the beginning."
"I'll go for the most recent," Kate decides.
Castle grins. "We can work towards each other – always a pleasure."
"Business first, Babe."
Castle inhales the scent of a leather-bound volume. "In this case, both carry the promise of intoxication."
"Beckett, this is amazing!" Castle exclaims, bending over a weighty tome. "This book references the history of the Gorlois family back to the seventh century when the Arthurian tales began appearing in Wales. A Yvain Gorlois, possibly a descendant of the Morgan on which the stories were based, became obsessed with her tutelage under Merlin, specifically, her efforts to understand why Merlin aged backward. Yvain engaged in a quest to find a magical elixir of youth."
"The fountain of youth is a pretty common concept, Castle," Kate points out.
"I know. There's that supermodel who does infomercials insisting that a French doctor discovered it in a melon. Meredith must buy a ton of that stuff. And of course, there was Ponce de León's search for the mythical fountain. We might not have a Florida without him. Strangely, a certain segment of the aging population is still drawn to that peninsula. But I digress. The Yvain Gorlois documented here, spent his life in pursuit of youth. According to this, he concentrated on potions made from various herbs and died on his quest. Maybe he poisoned himself. But apparently, to share in the family lands and fortunes, his descendants had to pick up the gauntlet – or maybe the goblet. And they were accompanied and aided by descendants of the natives of ancient Gore. Wow! Looks like that was still going on. Find anything in the more recent chronicles?"
Kate points to a volume on a table in front of her. "The book I'm looking at talks about a branch of the Gorlois family coming to the United States and settling in New York. They lived upstate in farm country."
"Still engaging in experimentation with youthenizing herbs," Castle guesses.
"This book doesn't say anything about that. But it says they acquired a farm, a pretty big one. It's still there. But what's interesting is that they did organic farming before anyone called it that."
"Perhaps afraid that modern chemicals would compromise any magical properties of their crops," Castle speculates.
"Maybe," Kate allows. "But it worked out for them. When the demand for organics took off, they were set."
"Right. No pesticides or chemical fertilizers in their soil. They would have been at the head of the line to sell to all the upscale restaurants and markets. They're probably still making a fortune. But why the mansion in the city?"
"According to this, it was built to be closer to the New York financial markets. The family still had a great deal of wealth aside from the farm and wanted to be in a better position to manage it. A family trust was set up for the purpose. That's what Gore was talking about. It specified that a Gorlois would always have to be in the house."
"What about Ivan Gorlois? Does it say anything about him?"
"If it does, I haven't gotten to it yet. This thing has another volume. You want to grab it?"
Castle is out of his seat and striding across the room before she finishes her sentence. "On it."
The house in Riverdale looks like many others – upscale but not close to housing anyone in the upper one percent. While the cars in nearby driveways may be Lexises or Infinities, they are unlikely to be Ferraris or Rolls Royces. Every home in the neighborhood has security, with signs in the front yard and stickers on the doors and windows. But this one has more – a lot more.
Elizabeth Weston sits across the kitchen table from James (Jimmy) Carmack, while the FBI guards every means of entry. She turns on a recorder and checks that the microphone is hot. "You said you'd give us everything. If you want to keep your deal, that's exactly what you'll do. Start from the beginning, your first interaction with William Bracken and don't leave anything out. And if I find anything you've said to be untrue, our agreement is null and void. Do you understand that, Mr. Carmack?"
Carmack's pale eyes harden. "I understand it just fine. But Ms. Weston, it's a very long story."
"I'm here for as long as it takes," Weston declares.
Carmack leans toward the microphone. "I met William Bracken nineteen years ago. I was part of a group of NYPD officers that believed the city wasn't doing enough to put the screws to the mob. So we took matters into our own hands. We called ourselves the Enforcers. We kidnapped members of all five crime families, gave them a sample of what they were doling out, then charged bail – a lot of bail – to turn them loose."
"Who were the other members of the Enforcers?" Elizabeth asks.
"I didn't know all of them. We thought it was safer that way. But I knew John Raglan, Brian McCallister, and a rookie, Roy Montgomery. They screwed up and killed an undercover fed named Armen. That's when I heard Bracken got involved. He was an assistant DA then, about to become DA. I'm not sure how long he knew about the operation, but he covered for them. Bracken pinned Armen's death on a mob muscle guy named Pulgatti. He also took over the whole operation, my part of it included. But he liked my style. I got the job done without screwing up. So he brought me into the DA's office as his investigator. Then when he ran for Congress, I headed up his security and took care of business. I've been taking care of business ever since."
"And by business, you mean?" Weston inquires.
"Anything he needed done."
Weston leans across the table. "You're going to tell me every single one of those anythings – in detail. But you can start with what happened at 33 Thomas Street."