Finding the Fit Chapter 56
"Captain, even if the body we found at the Happy Mart closes the Harlem House case, there's still a murder that needs solving. Someone shot the man," Kate points out.
"Not our problem," Montgomery declares. "Our people and the Russians have agreed that the body will be shipped back to Russia. Neither party wants to pursue the matter any further. The investigation into his death is officially closed."
"Meaning that the feds, probably some intelligence agency, put pressure on 1PP to make sure we'd have to stay out of it," Kate retorts.
"Whoever may have put pressure on whom, it's out of our hands. You have plenty to do to prepare for the case against Bracken, Beckett. Make sure all your Is are dotted and your Ts crossed on that, and leave the Russians and the feds to their business."
"Fine!" Kate exclaims. The blinds on the captain's glass door rattle as she slams it behind her.
As Kate charges back to her desk, Rick looks up from his seat. "Not the pleasant tête à tête you'd hoped for?"
Her chair squeakily protests as Kate plants herself. "The NYPD, meaning me, is excluded from tracking down the murderer's murderer."
"Beckett, the evidence is pretty strong that was a case of spy versus spy. The Russians were cleaning up anyone who could back up what Petrovich could reveal, and one of our guys took out a member of the cleanup squad. The agencies, ours and theirs have been duking it out since before either of us was born and will keep right on throwing punches – or knives or bullets at each other. Whatever Montgomery told you doesn't matter. The NYPD isn't even in the game."
"And how do you know that, Castle? Wait, sources and research, right?"
"Something like that. So with that case off limits, what did your captain order you to do?"
"Continue tying down the details of the Bracken case."
"Wouldn't that include reading all his journals – unless you already have?"
"Castle, I never had the time to read much except the part about my mother's murder. You know that. We were… I mean, until that call came in…."
Rick grins. "That much is truly unforgettable, and hopefully not unrepeatable. But seriously, Beckett, shouldn't you go through all the journals before you have to turn them over to the prosecutors? There could be more murders, and God knows what other infamies in them."
"You're right, Castle. But I don't want to take a chance of leading anyone Bracken may have watching me to the hiding place. Since he's involved in the murders, Coonan's testimony can't stand on its own. Bracken can hire smart enough lawyers to make sure that if those journals are destroyed, the case against Bracken for soliciting my mother's murder will collapse. I don't know what to do."
"You need cover," Castle proclaims. "You need to be engaged in something that in no way suggests toiling on your investigation."
"Like what, Castle?"
"Perhaps a night on the town in celebration of the permanent demise of a mass murderer. We could go to my mother's play. I have a permanent first call on front-row seats. We could even take Ryan and Esposito along if they want to go. Then, with or without the boys, we could continue on to the Old Haunt, to hoist a few. We can always make them virgin, to keep the old noggins clear. Then we slip out through the tunnel to go to wherever you've got the notebooks stashed."
Sudden creases flank the bridge of Kate's nose. "Wait, tunnel? Castle, what tunnel?"
"Oh, I guess when I regaled you with the history of the place, I forgot to mention it. I told you it was a speakeasy, right?"
"Yeah."
"So the owners had to have a way to sneak in the booze. One patron, Jimmy Walker, the mayor at the time, was quite picky about the quality of his intoxicants. Superior spirits would be smuggled by ship from Canada and floated on the river to a tunnel that runs right under the place. Actually, some of the previous owners set up offices down there where they could not only inspect incoming shipments but conduct their other, um, business. They were decorated to impress with high-class paneling and furniture – the whole shebang. A lot of it is still there. There's a trap door in the back room that leads to a staircase. Tunnels run from there not only to the river but to various spots in the city where you could pick up a cab to wherever you want to go. So even if, somehow, you're shadowed to the Old Haunt, there's no way anyone could track you beneath the city streets. It's a bit poetic, actually, using an underground tunnel to get to your secret hidey hole."
"Castle, I know you're sentimental about the history of the Old Haunt, but how do you know about the tunnels or if they're even still functional?" Kate questions.
Heat creeps into Rick's face. "Perhaps a bit more than sentimental."
"You bought the place, didn't you?" Kate accuses.
"I couldn't let TJ McChucklenuts destroy a piece of New York's and my personal history. So yeah, I bought it. And with the upgrades I put in, it's actually turning a profit again. It's not a big one, but enough to keep the place above water, so to speak. I explored the tunnels in case I might want to use them in a book someday. Sometimes I use the office downstairs for inspiration. Anyway, you have my assurance as the proprietor that you can utilize the tunnels to shake any tail that Bracken may have on you, but you might need a guide with a super-efficient high-tech flashlight or two."
"Are you volunteering, Castle?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
Kate downs the last of a Virgin Mary and checks her watch. "It's one a.m., Castle. Ryan and Esposito left a couple of hours ago. We need to get going."
Rick snatches the one remaining wedge fry from the basket they were sharing. "Right, follow me." He leads her around the end of the bar and into a storage room. "Here, help me with this." Together they lift a door Kate finds surprisingly heavy. Rick flicks a switch, lighting a downward staircase and the space below.
Kate gazes around at the overdone opulence of a past age. "This is quite a man cave, Castle, but I don't see a tunnel entrance. Where is it?"
Rick strides over to a bookcase and pulls out a book of Poe's short stories. "A Cask of Amontillado is in here. I thought it appropriate," he says as the bookcase swings outward. He grabs two large flashlights from a rack just inside the tunnel entrance. "We'll need these." He hands one to Kate and shines his beam ahead of them. "This way, but you'll have to give me at least an approximate location of your stash if I'm going to lead you to the nearest outlet."
Strangely hesitant to speak her secret out loud, Kate whispers in Rick's ear.
"Mmm, maybe you can do more of that at a later date. In the meantime, I am happy to report that there is a tunnel exit a mere block away from there."
"Which means we still have a couple of miles to walk," Kate figures, "so we'd better get going."
"And so we shall."