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Monday, 13 May 2013, 11:10 A.M.

Conference Room,

Homicide Squad,

4th Floor, 12th Precinct

"Well, I must admit, Regina," Larry Brown responds smiling, "You and your friends, but mostly you, did a masterful job of claiming so much unearned credit for JTD's fall."

"Unearned!" Taylor seethes, "Our shining the like on JTD's crimes is what stopped them!"

Larry just loses control and breaks down laughing, surprising Regina Taylor to the point she can't form a response.

"I'm sorry, Regina," He tries to catch his breath, "I'm sorry Regina, I thought it was just some standard issue glory hogging by your press people for your reelection, but you actually believe it, don't you?"

"Of course, I believe it! Because it's true!" she declares smugly, "I was the first one to call them out, asking questions about what they were up to that led to them being stopped."

"Not exactly," Larry's laughter peters out, "The people at JTD weren't just white-collar criminals, they were red-collar types, as in blood red, they weren't going to be stopped or even scared by some minor politician with delusions of grandeur throwing around accusations."

"2001", she recounts smugly, "A thirty-year old reporter by the name of Bethany McLean wrote a minor piece for Fortune, questioning Enron's business practices which led to its collapse."

"Not exactly," he counters, "In the article, Is Enron Overpriced, and a few others like it in other publications, didn't suggest any malfeasance, only that the company's then then-record high stock price was unjustified by the company's public financials, which didn't seem to make sense."

"But, those articles," Taylor points out, "Got people and the Feds asking questions which led to Enron's exposure."

"Not exactly," Brown repeats smirking, "To paraphrase the bard, the articles were the thing wherein they caught the consciences of the kings."

"I'm beginning to realize," Taylor rolls her eyes, "Where Rick Castle picked up some his more condescending speaking mannerisms."

"I meant that the rulers of Enron," Brown smiles, "Were just very bad businessmen who committed white-collar crimes to hide their failures. They didn't have the stomach to hold up to even the mildest scrutiny so they either overreacted or botched trying to bluff their way through which led to a loss of investor confidence and more questions."

"But those stories did lead Enron to collapse," Taylor points out smugly, "Which is what happened with JTD. And if you say not exactly again, I swear I'll deck you."

"Well," he strokes his chin in an exaggerated manner, pretending to mull philosophically, "All cats have four legs. My dog has four legs. Therefore, my dog is a cat. How's that?"

"Makes me want to hit you more," Taylor rolls her eyes, "I swear I need a translator with you…and your protégé…what does that even mean?"

"Faulty logic so common in politicians of all stripes, and the people who vote for them," Brown shrugs, "In this case, ignoring facts to obtain a false equivalency that doesn't add up to reality."

"Oh, and what important details did I ignore?" Taylor asks defiantly, hands on her hips.

"First of all," Larry explains, smirking as she's set herself up so easily, "The questions by McLean, other reporters, and even some investors, were based on a reading of Enron's public financial statements. You failed to mention any such insight on your part while grabbing the credit."

"That doesn't mean anything," Taylor argues, "We could've just as easily read JTD's the financials too?"

"Highly unlikely," Brown says dismissively, "Bethany has a mathematics degree, and her first job was as a Goldman Sachs financial analyst. The other reporters had similar skill sets. I know you and your staff quite well, Regina and none of you have the analytical chops."

"You don't know that for sure," Taylor's still hanging in there, "My team hires outside consultants all the time. We could've easily done it then, every think of that?"

"Wouldn't have done you any good," Brown smiles widely, "As a completely privately owned company, JTD wasn't required to publish public financials as opposed to an exchange listed company like Enron. Also, you kept using could've instead of did. Come on Regina, be honest, just let it out."

"Fine, my staff got an anonymous tip," she finally concedes, "My people looked into it, and the Information was solid, so I went public."

"Oh, I know, I covered that story, remember," Larry chuckles, "But it was fun watching you paint yourself into a corner. [takes a careful pause] But I found it interesting you checked out the information, but never really tried to find the source."

"Glad you're enjoying yourself," Taylor throws a massive death glare at him, "And there was no need. It was probably some whistle blower who wanted to remain anonymous to avoid the risking of retaliation."

"Not…exactly," Larry smiles mischievously, "Funny thing about the case, FBI, NYPD, IRS, and whole other bunch of other acronyms didn't just start investigating after you started blabbing. It was like they were already prepositioned to strike or at least there was already a plan.

"Maybe you should consider that the leak was part of this larger plan. You know the Red Army called had a term, maskirovka, a combination of diversion and camouflage to mask the true threat to the enemy until it was too late. In other words, the leaker could've set you up to be the Bethany McClean of the situation."

"And I suppose," She finally gets it with a snarky tone, "That Rick Castle was the brilliant general behind this plan."

"Now that you mention it," Brown smirks, "I believe that any minute now, a story will break detailing Rick's history of consulting on FBI White-Collar cases over the years."

"On no, you don't! Uh, uh, no way!" Taylor shakes her head, "I don't care what fake news you spread, but I will make sure whatever ridiculous story you've concocted won't hold up."

"Don't take my word for it," he responds, "Part of the story will include statements from Supervisory Special Agent Peter Burk and his boss, Assistant Special Agent in Charge Reese Hughes, the top guys at the FBI's New York White-Collar office expressing the Bureau's gratitude for Rick's assistance over the years, especially on the JTD case."

"That's where I have you!" she declares, "I kept tabs on that case. Hughes and Burke told me personally that the only two FBI consultants on JTD were named Alexander Rogers and an ex-White-Collar crook by the name of Niles Caulder."

"Neal Caffrey," Brown corrects her, "Niles Caulder is a fictional character from a comic book title called Doom Patrol."

"Whatever," Taylor scoffs, "Thing is they never mentioned of Rick Castle being involved either verbally or in the reports. I don't know how you got them to go along with the cockamamie story, but I promise you there will be a paper trail somewhere and I will find it."

"Regina," he says calmly, "Richard Alexander Rogers, is Rick Castle's given name, he changed it when his writing career took off. You could learn a thing or two about research from him."

It takes a second for the revelation to hit her, then Taylor's face becomes twisted with rage, teeth clenched, eyes going wide.

"Wow, Last time I saw eyes bulge out like that was in a Looney Toons cartoon," Brown says calmly, suppressing a chuckle, "Don't stroke out on me now."

"Your concern for my health is touching," her voice filled with venous sarcasm, "I can't believe this is happening."

"If it makes you any feel better," Brown continues, "Once Rick started working on the case, he was the one who asked Neal to be brought on to it. Rick was more of the operational level planner and Neal took on running the tactical lead."

"Why would that possibly make me feel better," she huffs, "I don't even know what that means."

"Well difference between the operational and tactical roles are…"

"Do I look like I care!" Taylor cuts him off.

"Well, it's hard to tell when you're ranting," he shrugs.

"No, no…this can't be happening!" Taylor shakes her head so hard it might twist all the way around, "How would he have even found out about JTD to tip me off in the first place, hmmm?"

"He consulted a psychic," he rolls his eyes, "The kid has a genius IQ and was raised by cops,

"I'm almost afraid to tell you the rest of it," Brown's mannerism shows he's more worried about keeping a straight face than anything else.

"What rest of it?" she demands through gritted teeth.

"I don't know," he shrugs, "I should probably leave before you might spontaneously combust."

"Oh, no," Taylor says through clenched teeth, "You're not going anywhere until I know exactly what that weasel has done."

"Actually, Rick prefers the coyote as his totem," he counters, "He's always going on about how those cartoons are racist because in real life a coyote can easily outsmart and outrun a road runner."

"What rest of it!" she repeats as she grabs him by the lapels.

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Lincoln MKT Town Car,

Hutchinson River Pkwy South,

Bronx, NY

"If you're saying I need my head examined," Rick responds, "I have, by more than twenty specialists since I was child."

"This I believe," Alexis says mockingly.

"I guess I set myself up for that one," Rick Castle chuckles, looking out the window, missing the sudden horrified expression that appears on his daughter's face.

"Oh, my God, I can't believe I said that! I'm so sorry," Alexis words then flood out, as they tend to when she's agitated, "Uncle Frank told me about those experts… how they treated you…they were supposed to help you…but they didn't care about you…they were just selfish jerks who wanted to use you to advance their own careers…

"And how you were terrified by all the attention might let other kids to find out about you…because they were already bullying you…and you were so scared it would be just one more thing for them to use against you… [On the verge of tears] …I'm so sorry daddy…"

"Hey, hey breathe," Rick tries to calm his near hyperventilating daughter by placing a protective arm around her, "It's okay…."

"No, it's not!" Her voice filled with guilt, "You were a just little boy… the whole thing was cruel…what I said was cruel…"

"Alexis, please don't do this to yourself," His voice now full of concern for his child's state, "You could never be deliberately cruel. If you lost it for a second, and said something I know you didn't mean, it's on me not you. It's because of how handled things."

"You're just saying that, so I'd let myself off the hook," Alexis looks down, her voice small, almost childlike.

"Alexis, please look at me," Rick lifts her chin gently, "I felt hurt, angry, and betrayed that Beckett kept this massive secret from me, again. She made life altering decisions based on it and blindsided me with it, again. Worst of all, this time we were together when she did it.

"And in the space of few hours you were blindsided by these massive secrets that I've kept from you all your life, and I've sudden life altering decisions. And worst of all, you didn't learn it from me. I think the hypocrisy of my actions isn't lost on either of us."

"I'm sorry she did that to you, again," Alexis squeezes her father's hand, a twinge of anger mixed with the sympathy in her voice, "And I'm so sorry about how they treated you when you were little."

"Well, they weren't all bad," Rick continues, "Truth be told, they were generally good, if a bit uptight people except for this one guy."

"The jerk who leaked your name?" Alexis asks, "Uncle Frank told me you allowed them to study you because they said it would help other kids like you and promised to keep your name confidential, but one of them broke the deal so he could claim credit for discovering you."

"Dr. Dwayne Cravitz, PhD.," Rick clarifies, "His big plan was to bring in people from other universities to see his discovery. Then he'd convince me to work with the one that offered him the nicest, high-profile job."

"Why on Earth would he think you'd go along with him after he betrayed your trust like that?"

"He did it anonymously," Rick explains, "That way, when I started freaking out about all the unwanted attention, he could swoop in to play the compassionate psychiatrist to help me deal with it, but luckily, between growing up in your grandmother's world and hanging around the precinct, I'd developed a very pretty good BS filter."

"He was undeterred though. For Cravitz, his future depended on charting mine towards being cooped up working in some research lab. Can you imagine? [chuckles lightly] I would've turned into Lazlo, the burnout who living under the campus in Real Genius dedicating all his time generating enough entries to win a Frito-Lay contest."

"Instead," she beams at her father, "I suspect you became Chris Knight, defying the arrogant Jerry Hathaway who tried to use you. Although, I guess you didn't use a government space funded laser to heat up a giant jiffy-pop to fill his house with popcorn."

"Something more subtle," Rick chuckles, "There was one researcher, Cal, who I got on with the best and not just because he despised Cravitz. He reached out and we developed a plan to deal with Dwayne. My pat was the maskirovka, to convince him I wasn't on to him."

"And he bought that?" Alexis responds in surprise, "He had to realize that you'd consider him the prime suspect once the leak happened."

"Genius child of an actress and a spy arrogant egomaniac," Rick smiles broadly, "To borrow a line, I was so talented, and he was so dumb."

"I can see that," Alexis declares. Once, on the verge of tears, Alexis can't help but laugh at her father's reference to the film Blazing Saddles. It's music to his ears especially after how freaked out she had been only minutes earlier.

"Then came phase two," Rick smiles mischievously, "Making him look bad in front the people he brought in to show off his laboratory mouse, inspired by a certain bestseller of the time by Douglas Adams."

"Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy?" Alexis says confused.

"If you recall," Rick elaborates, "Mice were the most intelligent species on the planet in the book. All the time they spent in behavioral research laboratories running around inside wheels and through mazes, etc. were actually frighteningly elegant and subtle experiments on humans."

"And boy was he ever frustrated. He brought in all those neurologists, psychiatrists, and behaviorists studying me, trying to figure out I my brain worked, and the best they could conclude about my thought processes was weird…very weird."

"I don't know can you joke about it so easily," Alexis smiles, "I'm so furious about what they did to you."

"That's because you just learned about it, while I've had a few decades of perspective.," Rick smiles, "I'll admit, there were some rough moments. But I really wouldn't change a thing that happened. It was part of a sequence of events that brought me to where I am today, father to the most amazing daughter."

"Thanks dad," his daughter smiles up at him, "And Cravitz never realized you were putting on an act?"

"Totally clueless," Rick rolls his eyes, "He just upped his efforts [anger flashes in his eyes] even tried to play on my absentee daddy issues to worm his way into my trust by trying to play the benevolent father figure type. Except that field was little crowded already."

"You already had Pop and Uncle Frank," Alexis smiles warmly.

"Plus, Roy and Don…an entire precinct full really," he adds, "Anyway, while I was keeping Cravitz and company occupied by running him through mazes, metaphorically speaking, I introduced Cal to Larry Brown and they both found the goods on Dwayne. Don't ask how. [throws a knowing wink]

"That led to NYPD police Captain Henry Reagan of the 12th Precinct marching into the Columbia Admiration to have a long conversation about Dr. Cravitz, after which they in turn suggested that he find employment elsewhere and sign an NDA to never talk about me again, which he actually tried to resist at first."

"The guy was like a leech that wouldn't let go," Alexis comments, "What was he trying to pull with that?"

"Apparently," Rick shrugs "He had active offers for multiple articles on me, and he was even close to a book deal. He was even shopping around a screenplay that can only be described as a pathetically written version of Good Will Hunting, fifteen years early."

"So how did you finally get him to sign the NDA?" she asks, "Uncle Frank said that you managed to make him."

"Your Godfather was being modest," Rick chuckles, "This was the 1980's, the good old days or bad old days depending on your point of view, when a group of angry cops could still show up to have a private talk about your bad career choices."

"Good, he had to be stooped," Alexis huffs, "His crappy screenplay could've poisoned the waters for Matt Daemon and Ben Afleck."

"Exactly," he laughs, "I like them."

"It's hard to believe," Alexis notes, "You don't seem to have any regrets."

"Don't forget," he continues, "Every story about someone trying to alter or delete the bad of their past is cautionary tale, from The Greatest Gift to Flashpoint."

Alexis finds herself laughing again. Leave it to her father to link the obscure short story that inspired It's a Wonderful Life with a comic book to make a point.

"Besides," Rick shrugs, "The limited notoriety brought another wave of professors hoping to be the one help me reach my full potential, and they used their alumni connections with their various snotty prep schools to offer me scholarships to bribe me."

"Uncle Frank mentioned that as well," Alexis reveals, "As well as the secret to your continuous school hopping."

"He stands up to most ruthless interrogators alive, New York reporters," Rick shrugs, "But five minutes with you and he can't stop blabbing. Even Nicky can't do that or Erin when she was little. That's spooky."

"I try," Alexis smiles proudly, "But didn't those professors get wise to you."

"Never underestimate the blindness that comes from an obsession with a challenge," He shrugs, "George Mallory said he wanted to climb Mt. Everest because it was there, which latter led to God saying, hey someone show Mallory around."

"I guess Cravitz was clear example of that," she notes.

"He isn't the only one," He replies in a way she knows he's talking about himself, "And it wasn't that long, three years, because the first school allowed me to completely skip the 9th Grade. All I had to do was spend time with each of the professors getting a pitch/lesson in their fields. Helped me with research for my earliest books."

"Hold on that guy who helped you, Cal," Alexis realizes, "As is in Dr. Cal Lightman?"

"I said he was an old friend," Rick taps her nose with his finger, "When a certain fourteen-year-old redhead wanted to attend his guest lecture at NYU and meet him after reading about him."

"I thought it was like one of those I know a guy situation of yours," Alexis counters, "Like he helped you with your research."

"I was one of his best students," Rick adds, "Even helped him when he started The Lightman Group, reached out to a few contacts to get their first clients and raise start-up capital."

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FBI Headquarters

J. Edgar Hoover Building

Washington, D.C., U.S.

The next round of Detective Kate Beckett's interview process was delayed, waiting for one of the interviewers who was stuck in another meeting.

Though able to maintain her aura of formability and confidence externally, internally, the events of the day were beginning to take their told.

While waiting, the auburn-haired detective can't resist pulling out her phone to look up something Special Agent Diana Berrigan had mentioned said.

Her hazel eye skim through the article once she finds what she's looking for, reading it to herself.

"…in many cases, stimulants such as caffeine have shown to have the opposite effect in individuals diagnosed with ADHD or ADD as they would in neurotypicals, causing drowsiness and lethargy. Anecdotal evidence suggests that in those with high IQs, this seems to have the added side effect of lowering their ability to process information at peak efficiency, effectively dumbing them down…"

After she finishes skimming through the article, Kate then googles something else Diana mentioned to her.

"Dr. Cal Lightman, PhD, is a noted brilliant expert in the science of body language, especially micro expressions, and founder of The Lightman Group, a private company that operates as an independent contractor to assist investigations of local and federal law enforcement as well as those of his native Britain and various U.S. allies through applied psychology.

"Lightman and many of the individuals he's trained have often been called human lie detectors, and though U.S. courts are skeptical of such methods for evidentiary purposes, his organization a been successfully used by his clients for interrogation purposes."

"Detective Beckett, I heard you were here," A male voice calls to her before she can fully process the information, she just learned causing her to look up and recognize the speaker.

"Agent Harris," she says surprised, "What are you doing here, I thought you were based out of New York."

"I was transferred to D.C. after the El-Masri-Castle kidnapping," He explains, "A promotion of sorts I'm not sure I deserve given Mr. Castle and his brother did so much of the work."

"His brother?"

"Detective Danny Reagan," Harris clarifies, "So I guess surrogate brother is the more technical term, but yeah. He did a lot of the leg work."

"I didn't know he was involved on the case?" Kate says confused.

"May I," he gestures to the chair next to her.

"Yes, of course, please have seat," Kate nods.

"Thank you, technically Detective Reagan," Harris replies as he sits down, "Wasn't not assigned to the investigation, but have you ever met Danny Reagan?"

"No, he works out of the 54th," Kate admits, "But I've heard a lot of stories."

"Then you should know that he is not exactly one for the rules," Harris notes, "And it seems to be contagious."

"Contagious?"

"There is an agent from our New York office, Diana Berrigan…"

"I've had the pleasure," Kate admits reluctantly, "But I thought she was in White-Collar, not kidnapping?"

"That's true," Harris notices, but let's pass, the twinge of hostility he notices in Kate's voice at the mention of Diana's name, "Which is why it was completely against regulations for her to be involved, but there she was, helping Reagan on the case.

"They even involved Reagan's younger brother, one Officer Jamison Reagan as well as his sister ADA Erin Reagan. I think even their grandfather, former Police Commissioner Henry Reagan got in on the act. He may be retired, but the old guy still has a lot of contacts he can pull."

"I see," Kate says, "And they didn't into any trouble?"

"The guys in White-Collar protected Berrigan," Harris shrugs, "And I think Danny Reagan's superior, a Sergeant Gormley even gave him a reprimand, but if you've heard anything about Danny Reagan, you know he takes rips as badges of honor. Afterwards, he joked that his two boys and his sister's daughter practically told him not to come back without finding their cousin."

"I never heard about any of this?"

"Like I said, it was all off the books," Harris shrugs, "And I didn't know about the connection until later, and it's not just talk, the way Commissioner Frank Reagan is about even at the appearance of using his office to show favoritism to his family."

"Well, I'm just glad about we got the girls back safely," Kate sighs.

"Me too," Harris nods, "I just wished I'd checked with you before I contacted the French Government to see if they could detain him before he got himself hurt."

"Checked with me?" Kate replies, not knowing what he was speaking about.

"You could about us that Mr. Castle has dual Citizenship," Harris says in a matter of fact, "Since he flew there under his French Passport, French authorities wouldn't detain him."

"Oh, I guess I never thought to mention it," Kate responds, covering her complete ignorance, "I didn't even realize you'd done that."

"That one is on me, sorry," Harris responds, checks his phone, "Hey but I have to run. It was good to see you again."

"You as well," Kate says responds almost reflexively as the Agent walks away. Her mind already racing on the new information she just learned.

During her Rebel Becks phase, she briefly fantasized about living a Bohemian life in Paris like in the movies, but before she lost interest in the idea, she remembers reading that French Citizenship is hard to obtain. It requires at least one parent be a French citizen or legal residency in France for good number of years first. And she knew for sure that neither applied to Castle.

Then a thought occurred to her, something she read in one of his Derrick Storm novels, Storm of Lights. And she quickly pulls up the book on her phone's kindle reader, looking for a term she just couldn't quite recall, and then she found it. Français par le sang verse.

But before she could look up more, a voice called out to her, "Detective Beckett, they're ready for you now.

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