Kate Beckett, Investigator Chapter 32

Part-time paralegal Callie Sumners startles as Kate and Castle enter the Beckett Law Offices. "Kate, what are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be at your award banquet. Mr. Beckett was really excited about it."

"So he told you he was going?" Kate asks.

"Yes, he left at ten o'clock. He said he wanted to make sure he wasn't late."

"He never showed up," Kate reports grimly. "Can you think of anywhere else he might have gone?"

Color fades from Callie's face. "No. He didn't have any court appearances or meetings scheduled for this whole day. He said he wanted to keep it clear for you. "Do you think something's happened to him?"

"I hope not," Kate says. "Maybe he got an emergency call on his cell. Do you know how he was planning to get to the hotel?"

"He didn't say, but he's been driving in and parking in the lot a block over."

Kate nods. "I know the one." She turns to Castle. "Let's go check it out, Babe."

Castle points at the nondescript sedan parked in a pay-by-the-month lot. Isn't that your Dad's car?"

"It is," Kate confirms. "It's got the champion fisherman sticker I put in his stocking last Christmas on the bumper."

"So," Castle figures, "between his office and here, something must have diverted him."

Kate whirls back toward her father's office. "Let's trace every step he would have taken."

The pair walk slowly along the sidewalk back toward the law office. Castle points down a space between buildings. "Someone could have been hiding in there."

Kate pulls a Mag Lite from her purse and leads the way down the narrow passage. "It looks like the debris in here's been disturbed. Someone's been here."

Castle activates the flashlight app on his phone. "Beckett, could that be blood?"

Crouching, Kate examines tiny droplets. "I'd need a test to be sure, but it looks like it. And if that's what it is, it's fresh. It would have turned brown overnight. Let's keep going." Their path opens out, leading to the next street over. "If someone grabbed my father, they could have put him in a car or taken him to another building close by. We will never find him without help."

"Time to call in your former colleagues?" Castle asks.

Kate sighs. "We don't have any real evidence he was taken, and he won't be considered missing for 24 hours. A local unit might have a look around as a courtesy, but I don't see that helping much. I'll call it in, but can you call Kap?"

"Of course."

Jim blinks at the sudden intrusion of light as the metal door opens, and three men enter. A middle-aged man bends to where Jim is sitting against the wall. "I am so sorry, Mr. Beckett," he says with an accent Jim can't readily identify. "We had no idea Baz would go crazy and grab you like that. But his wife, Sela, was worried when he ran out of his apartment this morning and had his son, Mica, follow him. Mica saw him bring you here and had Sela call us. Are you all right?"

"With help from his rescuer, Jim gets to his feet. "I don't understand. Who is Baz, and who are all of you?"

"We are Nesgadol's victims, Mr. Beckett," the man replies. "But we are also yours – unintentionally, I am sure, but also yours. My name is Dev. These men are Asi and Calen. We wish you no harm, but we do need you to understand why Baz would do what he did. We know this building. There is a room upstairs where we can talk. Please come with us."

"I need to contact my daughter," Jim protests. "I can't get a signal down here."

Dev nods. "We know. Baz would have known, too. That's probably why he brought you here. You can call her as soon as we get upstairs, but we need you to listen."

"Make it good, but all right," Jim agrees.

Dev leads the way through the door to a stairwell lit by a skylight and up two flights. Holding tightly to the rail, with Asi and Calen behind him, Jim follows. A heavy door from the stairwell leads to a poorly illuminated hallway with unmarked offices. Dev pulls out a key for the third one, urges everyone inside, and locks the door behind them. He reaches for one of a few bottles of water on a Formica sideboard and hands it to Jim. "Drink this. You'll feel better." He points to one of several metal folding chairs. "And please sit down."

Dropping heavily into the chair, Jim takes a swig of water and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

When Kate's cell lets out a loud alert, she grabs it from her jacket pocket. "Dad, are you all right?"

"I think so, Katie. I'm not sure what's happening."

"Where are you?"

"I'm not sure about that either. But I don't think I'm in any danger. There are some men here who want me to hear them out. And we've had enough people refuse to listen to us over the years that I'm going to give them that chance. I think it will be all right. I'll call you back when I've heard what they have to say."

"Dad, wait!" Kate protests as the call ends. She looks up at Castle. Can you have Kap ping Dad's cell and figure out where he is?"

"On it!"

Jim slips his phone back in his pocket. "All right, Dev, I'm listening."

Dev pulls up a chair facing Jim and signals Asi and Sisi to take seats nearby. "We all worked for Nesgadol on the projects you and the prosecutors had closed down. Nesgadol owed us all money. We never got paid."

Jim scrubs a hand over his face. "You should have been. Wages owed are at the top of the list for the settlement of debts. They had enough assets to more than cover them.'

"Except that our employment was under the table," Dev explains. "We are all immigrants, Mr. Beckett. When we were hunted by oppressive regimes, we came to this country for a better life. And we, all of us, followed the rules. We submitted our paperwork. We agreed to interviews, hearings, whatever it would take. We are all skilled workers. We had businesses before the regimes took hold. We should qualify for green cards. But nothing happens. We don't get our interviews, we don't get anything, and in the meantime, we can't work legally. So we took whatever we could, and Nesgadol hired us as long as they could pay us less – a lot less – than American workers. But they did it through another business they set up, and they'd hold the money for a month, or sometimes three months or six months."

"And then they disappeared, and you got nothing," Jim assumes. The three men vigorously nod. Jim sighs. "I'm not sure what I can do for you. I'm not an immigration lawyer. And what you earned, you earned illegally, so it wouldn't be considered a valid debt."

"We know that," Dev acknowledges.

"Worse than that," Jim continues. "Since you have admitted to the commission of a crime as an officer of the court, I'm ethically bound to report it."

"What if we hire you as our lawyer?" Dev asks.

"I could consider what you've said as covered under client confidentiality. But as I said, I'm not an immigration attorney. It's a very complicated branch of the law. I'm not qualified to handle for you."

"Could you help us find someone who can?" Dev asks, "maybe someone to work with you?"

"That," Jim agrees, "I can."