Finding the Fit Chapter 66

Sophia Turner drops her CIA-issued encrypted phone into a drawer lined with a metal mesh converting it to a Faraday cage. While the phones are engineered to prevent outside intrusion, the Company has been known to use them to listen in on the activities of their own personnel. Sophia's not about to be trapped by that. That's one reason Sergei passed her a note rather than discussing anything except the weather. She's not about to take chances. She scans her apartment for any stray electronic signals and detects none. Pushing aside the throw rug beside her bed, she pulls up a hardwood flooring plank, uncovering a small compartment holding another phone. Also encrypted, but with no key available to the CIA, this one goes straight to satellite, bypassing any intercepts of cell tower traffic. She keys in a number and waits for a response code. Upon hearing it, she transmits the contents of Sergei's note. After a coded series of beeps acknowledging receipt, she ends the call and replaces the phone in its nook.

The so-called studio apartment Hunt manages to rent over a bodega down the block from Sophia Turner's apartment isn't much larger than the closets some Hollywood stars use to accommodate their shoes. It does, however, have the one element that Hunt requires: roof access. The roof, fortunately, is not popular with the other tenants. It is blazing hot in the summer and freezing in the winter. The gravelly surface is uncomfortable to walk on, and the aging HVAC system puts out a grating cacophony. Despite those disadvantages, it is perfect for Hunt's purposes. From one corner, he can aim a scope directly at a window of Sophia Turner's much more comfortable apartment. The window is covered by a blind, but that doesn't keep Hunt from using IR to discern shapes beyond it. Under the cover of night and the sound of an approaching siren, he was also able to shoot a bug that would adhere to one of Turner's outside walls. Rather than an easily detected data flow, the sound-activated device transmits in tiny bursts, undetectable unless one scans for them at that exact second. Hunt can't eavesdrop in real time, but he can still keep informed of whatever is said inside, even if Turner is talking on an encrypted phone.

Hunt knows that in an academic way, Turner is familiar with these techniques. Still, she isn't assigned to the types of missions that require them, so they wouldn't be at the front of her mind. He hopes to gather the necessary information before she starts thinking about them. Mostly, he'll only be observing her during her official off-hours. Most analysts spend their days and often their evenings on the job. During his surveillance, Hunt may find out about Turner's romantic relationships. He couldn't care less about them – unless the pillow talk involves inappropriate revelations. In that case, he will be very interested indeed.

When Kate wakes up in the circle of Rick's arms, it takes her a moment to remember why her cell phone alarm didn't go off. She never set it. She and Castle made lazy love ungoverned by the clock, then slept for a while before waking up for a reprise. Their final sleep was so deep that if she had any dreams, she doesn't remember them. Slowly, she pivots to face her still-drowsing lover.

Rick awakes to Kate's soft kiss on his lips. "Good morning. Sleep well?'

"Better than I have since I was a kid," Kate admits.

Rick's hands trace the curves of Kate's bare body. "Being here is a little like going back in time, isn't it? But some things are even better than child's play."

Kate presses herself into the warmth of his flesh. "Yes, they are."

The protests of their empty stomachs finally force Rick and Kate from beneath the sheet and quilt. After pulling on a pair of shorts, Rick walks the few steps to the refrigerator and stares inside. "As far as breakfast goes, we are very well stocked."

Above the wrap of a silky kimono, Kate's lips quirk in a wry smile. "Much better than my apartment."

Rick sends her an answering grin. "No comment about that. I will, however, say that with one of the well-seasoned iron skillets provided to us, I can make us some lovely omelets. There's also bacon, and we have a few leftover strawberries."

Kate eyes the fishing rods and well-stocked tackle box. "With any luck, we can catch some fish for lunch or dinner. But it's better if we use fresh bait. We could dig some worms."

As Rick cracks eggs into a bowl, he grimaces. "Do you have to talk about worms while I'm making breakfast?"

"Sorry." Kate gestures toward the sturdy table. "I can set that. I thought I saw some placemats somewhere."

Rick taps his finger against a cabinet next to the stove. "In here, and the silverware's in there too."

"You've made yourself right at home," Kate observes.

"A habit developed in my travels – especially knowing how to feed myself away from home."

"Just how much have you traveled, Castle?"

Rick mentally measures his words. "My books are very popular abroad, so I've made multiple overseas tours."

"Is that usual for an author?" Kate inquires.

"People like to see us up close and get their books signed. But there are fewer meet-the-author events than there used to be. A lot of that has moved online. It's easier, cheaper, and combined with TV guest shots, sells as many or more books. I may do a couple of tours a year now, visiting the big cities. But hitting Kimmel, Colbert, and Fallon will usually do the trick, especially if Black Pawn throws in an appearance on Good Morning America."

"Do you miss it?"

"Some of it. After being used to subways only a rat can love, the beauty of the one in Moscow was unbelievable. And it helps to see a setting and meet the people there before I write about it. But there's something to be said for having a stable home base, especially since I'm writing about New York City based crimes. And, of course, I wouldn't want to stray far from my muse."

Kate grabs a handful of Castle derrière. "Good because when we go fishing, there won't be much room in the boat."

Rick presses his lips to the tender skin of Kate's neck. "Our angling expedition is sounding better all the time."

Rick's nose wrinkles as Kate carefully places the can they filled with freshly unearthed wigglers into the bottom of the boat. The craft is already loaded with most of the cabin's fishing equipment. "I've got the snacks. Are you sure we've got everything else?" he inquires.

Kate takes her seat near the outboard engine. "There's no room for anything else. We're getting a late start. Dad and I used to go out before dawn."

"As I recall, we were otherwise engaged before dawn."

Kate trails her fingers down his thigh. "Yes, we were. And it may not make any difference. Dad and I didn't catch that many fish that early anyway. I think he just liked being out there to see the sunrise on the water. We've still got plenty of time. I'm going to take us out near the center of the lake and if we don't have any luck, we can work back from there."

Rick does his best to ignore the worms. "It's your expedition. Whatever you say."