Finding the Fit Chapter 48

"The boss in the mob drug operation I infiltrated when I was in Narcotics always kept what he cared about most where he could grab it if he had to leave in a hurry, but no one else could get it," Ryan recalls as Rick and the detectives descend into the lower reaches of the mansion. "Vulcan Simmons stuffed his pockets with cash, but he didn't take anything else."

"But we know he wasn't the big boss," Rick says.

"Right," Kate agrees. "If there are records down here, they'd be locked up tight where only Bracken could access them."

"Which would mean we couldn't get at them either," Esposito points out.

"If we locate locked files or something and we can't break into them, we can bring in someone who can," Kate replies. "But if we don't move it and get looking, we're not going to find anything."

As they enter the room containing the tunnel entrance, Rick regards a small safe still standing open. "That must be what Simmons raided before he took a powder."

"Probably petty cash," Ryan offers.

Esposito points to a heavy steel door. "Look at that."

"Ah, the entry to the treasure cave," Rick notes. "But check out the embedded microphone. It looks voice-activated. I doubt that 'open sesame' will do the trick, but open sesame." The door doesn't move.

"If Bracken's records are in there, it's probably keyed to his voice," Kate suggests. "He's made enough speeches for us to put the right phrase together – if we can figure out what it is."

"It can't be something he'd say in ordinary conversation," Rick considers. "Too much chance of triggering the lock by accident. But it would have to be something that he wouldn't have to pause to remember. If we put everything we know about him together, maybe we can suss it out."

"Before we do that, we need to search this place from bottom to top," Kate decides. "Something we can use could be tucked away anywhere. So Esposito, take the floor above this one. Ryan, take the top floor. Castle and I will continue down here."

Rick opens a door to an adjoining room. "Wow, Beckett, look at this: a counting room that would do any Vegas casino proud. And there are still traces of perfume in the air along with the more obnoxious fragrance that Randy so capably introduced. This must be where the ladies worked when they weren't charming the customers into parting with their filthy lucre."

Kate opens another door. "Castle, look at this!"

Rick takes in the shackles attached to a wall as well as racks of whips, flails, and other torture devices. "Ah, toys to serve clients with special tastes. Or I suppose it could double as a punishment room for anyone who decided to step out of line or try to shoot their mouth off. I don't see anywhere to stow records, but I wouldn't be surprised if there was a concealed video camera or two that could be used to facilitate blackmail should the need arise. There's nothing like what a man might tell his mistress, especially one in high leather boots with a matching bustier."

"Personal experience, Castle?" Kate teases.

"No, but I did conduct some very interesting research interviews for Hail Storm."

"I'll bet you did."

Rick opens another door. "The ladies' restroom. Figures. No reason to have the worker bees waste time going upstairs. I wonder if there is an executive washroom. The plumbing would probably be back to back." He rounds a corner in a short hallway. "And here it is. "Ooh, I think someone expected to take long dumps. There's reading material in here, suitable for the posher toities on Wall Street." He holds up a magazine. "This follows the movements in the commodities markets. There's another one here specifically about precious metal investments. Ooh, here's an assessment of Russian oil and gas. That would connect to Re-emergence's involvement. If the boodle was being spread across the financial landscape this way, there will have to be a trail."

"Hopefully, one that will lead to the man at the top," Kate says. "But if we can get into that damn vault, we should be able to get at him faster. There's not much else here, Castle. Let's go up and join the boys. Maybe they found something we can work with."

Followed by Castle, Kate walks slowly through the rooms upstairs. "These look like guest rooms for casino goers who've had too much and need to sleep it off before they can go home," she notes.

"They do," Rick agrees. "Not much more than a bed, a place to hang clothes, and bathrooms, just big enough for a shower to sober up in. But," he adds, as they enter another room, "this one looks different. It's got a dresser and a writing desk, handy plug-ins for a computer, and," he opens the door to a closet, "spare clothes. Nice ones." He fingers a lapel. "Very nice ones. These are made to order, and they're the wrong size for Vulcan Simmons." Rick checks out the bathroom. "Full-sized shower with a luxury head. Upscale towels." He opens the medicine cabinet. "Top-of-the-line men's toiletries. Beckett, if Bracken visits, I'm betting this is where he stays."

"Everything's probably been cleaned, but I'll get it printed anyway," Kate says.

Rick gazes into the cabinet. "I doubt even the most fastidious maid would bother wiping off a stick of Captain's Spice or a tube of Evershine toothpaste. If Bracken's been here, this is where his prints should be. And you can probably trace the tailor who made those suits too. They always put a label or a mark somewhere."

Kate pulls out the drawer of the desk. "If Bracken does stay in here, he might make some speech notes or something." She holds up a pad of paper. "There are impressions on this. I wish I had a…."

"Pencil?" Rick inquires, pulling one out of his shirt pocket. "Sometimes I jot stuff down using surfaces at odd angles. Unlike a pen, pencils don't care if you hold them upside down." He hands the implement to Kate, who lightly marks over the impressions. "This looks like a phone number, and it's got a country code: seven."

"Russia!" the two exclaim together.

"The sonofabitch must have been calling a contact there," Kate asserts. "All right. We'll get CSU in here to tear this room apart. If there are prints, fibers, DNA, we'll get them."

"Great!" Rick says. "But if this is Bracken's home away from home, maybe before the lab troops arrive, we can locate some clue to the voice code to get us into the vault downstairs."

"I don't see anything, Castle."

Rick studies the paintings on the walls. "These aren't the mass-produced art you find in hotel rooms."

"Maybe Bracken likes them," Kate suggests.

"Or they mean something to him," Rick muses. "They're all seascapes. I saw in his biography that he likes sailing. He's even a member of a club out on Long Island. He has a boat moored in Guy Lombardo Marina."

Kate lets out an unexpected giggle. "Guy Lombardo Marina?"

"Yeah. It's in Freeport. Apparently, the band leader was beloved in the area. Whoa, Beckett, what was Guy Lombardo famous for?"

"Playing Auld Lang Syne on New Year's Eve. But I don't see Bracken singing Auld Lang Syne to open a vault door."

"I don't either. Still," Rick chortles, "it would be funny as hell. Yet, there's something simpler that he could say, which would also be unlikely to be said on most days."

Their joint shout of "Happy New Year!" echoes through the room.