A Murder in the Mosque
By
UCSBdad
Disclaimer: No, I don't own Castle. Wish I did, though. Rating: K+ for some soldier's language. Time: After Season Eight.
"Why the hell bother us then?" McCarty demanded. "Let the Agency or whoever take care of it."
"I said he's our asset and I meant it. He was with the Activity." The general said.
"That makes no sense. The Intelligence Support Activity was set up because Special Ops needed tactical intelligence, like when was the next load of Iranian weapons coming across the border to Iraq. All the CIA and all the other agencies cared about was the big picture. You know, what the Guardian's Council of the Islamic Republic was doing, or what Assad of Syria was planning."
"All true enough." Tate said. "But back in the day, al Amriki was in Cairo at some religious do and overheard some loudmouthed jihadis brag about sending money to the Shi'ites in Iraq to kill us Americans. He went to the US Embassy to tell the CIA, but no one was home. The only intel type was some gnarly old sergeant from the Activity who took his info. He also asked if al Amriki would work for us. For whatever reason, he did, and we'd get occasional intel from him."
"How the hell could a mullah in New York City find anything that would interest us?"
"He didn't. But occasionally, we need a little help from the Agency, and it helps to get their cooperation if we can remind them that we have a source that sends them intel. So, he was our boy, and we want to know who killed him and why."
"So, Peake and I just drop by the 12th Precinct and say "Hi, we're here to help you?"."
"Al Amriki had dual citizenship, US and Egyptian. We've had the Egyptians express interest in the case, so you're a pair of Middle East experts sent by the government to help out and keep the Egyptians happy. DOD got the State Department to agree to give you IDs as members of the Diplomatic Security Service."
"We've been to the 12th Precinct before. Almost all of them know who and what we really are." McCarty protested.
"That's still your cover story." Tate said.
"That'll be believed by every rookie cop with less than ten minutes on the force." McCarty grumped.
"You both have your sidearms?" The general asked.
McCarty lifted up his polo shirt to show his weapon.
"I carry a Colt 1911A1, sir."
Peake also showed his holstered weapon.
"I carry a .45 caliber Glock 21, sir. I don't know why McCarty carries that old antique."
"I carry the same weapon, Peake." General Tate said, glaring at Peake.
"And a fine weapon it is, sir. A classic."
"Okay, since you're armed, we can't send you on a commercial air, which is just as well. You'll go from here to RAF Akrotiri on Cyprus, then on to NAS Sigonella in Italy and finally to McGuire AFB in New Jersey. There you'll get your IDs, pick up a car and get appropriate clothing."
"Appropriate clothing, sir?" Peake asked.
"We want you to look like two denizens of Washington, DC, not some would be surf bum."
"Appropriate clothing. Yes, sir."
Captain Kate Beckett was wondering why she'd ever allowed herself to be talked into becoming a precinct captain. She could now understand Castle's disdain for paperwork, since she was drowning in it. She put one completed report in her out basket and picked up the next report she needed to complete.
She heard the elevator stop and the door opened. She put the report back. This was trouble. For one, it was Deputy Chief Gates, and she was not just smiling, she was laughing. More importantly, the man she was with was well known to her and known to be a giant pain in the ass. She did her best to look pleased as the two came to her office and came in.
"Good to see you, Deputy Chief Gates." Kate said, smiling.
"Please, Kate. There's no need to be so formal. Please all me Victoria."
"Certainly…Victoria." Kate couldn't have been more surprised if Gates had said she was leaving the NYPD to become a showgirl in Las Vegas.
"Let me introduce your guest to you. This is Mr. Scott Randolph of Crimalistics, Inc. I'll let him explain what he does. Scott, if you will?"
The man smiled at Kate.
"We at Crimalistics have a contract with the Department of Justice. What we do is seek out law enforcement operations that have the very best records in the country. We collect data, analyze it and determine the best practices for dissemination to law enforcement operations all over the country. Not just at the Federal level, but state and local law enforcement agencies as well. And I must say, your homicide team and your whole precinct is quite impressive. I'll just be tagging along with you and your people, taking notes. Is that all right with you?"
Kate would have loved to have thrown him out the window, but she couldn't. Not with Gates standing there.
"That'll be fine, Mr…?"
"Randolph. Scott Randolph." He smiled at her. "By the way. Isn't your husband the crime novelist Richard Castle. I understand he's been of occasional help to you."
"He has." Kate replied.
"Oh, Kate is just being modest. Actually, Mr. Castle was her partner when she was a homicide detective. He was quite helpful."
"Captain Beckett, I know you're busy, would you mind if Victoria showed me around a bit? Just so I know where everything is?"
"Certainly." Kate replied and watched the two of them leave. Gates laughed at something Randolph said just as they went around a corner.
Kate grabbed her phone and called Castle.
"Babe, get in here right now." She said as soon as he answered.
"This had better be a major murder with film at eleven. I was up writing until three AM. I finally figured out how to…"
"It's not a murder. It's worse. A man from some company is here with Gates to analyze my precinct. But this Mr. Scott Randolph looks exactly like one Anderson Cross who we've met before."
"Oh, shit. You mean my…"
"Castle." Kate barked. "Not over an unsecured line. We have no idea who might be listening if he's around. Just get in here as fast as you can."
"Will do."
Kate tried to concentrate on paperwork but couldn't manage it. She hoped Castle made it in before Gates and Randolph got back to her office.
As it happened, Castle was just a minute behind Gates and Randolph.
"Mr. Castle." Gates said, smiling. "How are you?"
"Just fine, sir. Always glad to be here in the 12th with my wife."
Gates turned to Mr. Randolph.
"Scott, this is the famous author, Richard castle and a very good, if unorthodox, investigator."
Castle preened at the unusual compliment from Gates.
"However," Gates went on, "I have to get back to One PP. I'm sure you'll get lots of good information from the Castles."
When Gates had gone, Rick turned to his father.
"What the hell is going on, Mr. Randolph?" He said the name sarcastically.
"Not here. We can go to lunch. Someplace small and busy. Do you know anyplace like that?"
"There's a Chinese place not too far from here. Will that do?" Kate asked.
Randolph nodded and off they went.
Once seated and inside, Castle tried to speak, only to be shushed by Randolph. Randolph took out a small device and put it on the table.
"This will let us know if anyone is listening. Now, I suppose you want to know what I'm here."
"We do." Kate said.
"First, let me tell you how sorry I was to miss your wedding."
"Don't worry." Kate said sarcastically. "Rick missed it as well. Someone in your line of work kidnapped him. Did you have anything to do with that?"
Randolph shook his head.
"It wasn't us, and it was a dumb operation from start to finish. If I had known about it, I'd have stopped it."
Kate wasn't sure she believed that, but let it pass.
"So why are you here?"
"There was a murder in your precinct's jurisdiction. The victim was a Mullah Hadji Muhammed al Amriki. He was an intelligence source."
"An intelligence source? Here in Manhattan? Is there something going on here I should know about?" Kate demanded.
"No. His stuff was pretty low level. Mostly Americans leaving to go to Iraq or Syria to join the Islamic State. He only put us onto one person of any importance. That was a Lebanese banker who laundered money for the Iranians. Still, that was a few years back and all we've done is keep an eye on the banker and track down all of his associates. We're pretty sure the banker is just in it for the money and not for any religious ideology, so we'll probably try to turn him. But nothing yet."
"If there was some danger to the citizens of New York, you'd tell us, right?" Kate said sarcastically.
"Of course, I wouldn't want my favorite daughter in law to get hurt, would I?"
"Your favorite daughter in law?" Castle said. "There are others?"
"No, but still, Kate is my favorite."
Kate glared at Randolph, who seemed unaffected.
"So, what can you tell me about the murder?" Randolph asked.
"Not much. He was shot in his mosque. The ME put the time of death between seven and nine o'clock in the morning. He was an early riser, so the time tells us nothing. Apparently, he liked to work in the early morning when it was relatively quiet. He was found in the hallway leading to his office, shot in the back of the head. Murder weapon was a .25 caliber automatic. No prints on the shell casings. The whole mosque is full of prints and DNA, as you'd expect. He was found by a ten-year-old boy."
"Do you think he knew his killer? Letting him get that close?" Randolph asked.
Kate shook her head.
"People came to see Mullah Amriki at any time. Almost anyone could have gotten that close to him."
"Could it have been a professional hit?" Castle asked. "A small caliber gun wouldn't make much noise, especially if the killer used a suppressor and two shots to the back of the head is usually referred to as "execution style" in the media."
It was Randolph's turn to shake his head.
"Anyone who watches TV knows two shots to the back of the head is execution style. As far as using a .25, it's easy to conceal, often not that expensive and does the job."
"Not a mob hit on a spy?" Castle asked, hopefully.
Both Kate and Randolph glared at him.
"Anything else?" Randolph asked.
"Not really. We interviewed his wife and children as well as people in the mosque. We also talked to non-Muslims in the neighborhood since they might tell us something the congregation might not. We got nothing."
"We do have lunch." Castle said brightly, seeing the waiter approaching.
Once back at the 12th Precinct, Kate got out the report on the murder.
"I suggest we all look over it. We may have missed something since we didn't know the mullah was an asset. Mr. Randolph may see something we would miss, not having his background."
They each read a third of the report then traded off. No one found a thing.
"We should take a walk around the neighborhood and see if there's anything that someone remembered, or anything." Randolph said. "I speak Arabic so If I look like a nice American cop, no one will suspect I understand anything they say in Arabic. You'd be surprised how many people are surprised that Americans can speak any language other than English."
"Okay. Um, Mr. Randolph, do you have someplace to stay?" Kate said, hoping Randolph or whatever his name really was wasn't planning on staying with them.
"Oh, I have a place of my own. I didn't want to have to bother Martha again."
"Don't worry." Rick said. "She's in LA. Working. She won't be back for another month."
TBC