Finding the Fit Chapter 54
After seeing Richard emerge apparently unscathed, and hearing the sirens in the distance, Hunt pulls out of his parking spot to return to his allotted quarters. He can use Company intercepts to follow whatever the police discover. That one of the attachés is most likely a murderer, doesn't surprise him. Still, unfortunately, if Kate Beckett and her fellow cops do manage to uncover his guilt, he'll be protected by diplomatic immunity. The worst that can befall him will be deportation back to Russia, where he'll be greeted as a hero. That is, unless, someone decides to prevent his homecoming.
"You should all be fine," Lieutenant Purvis of Special Services announces to Kate, Castle, Ryan, and Esposito. "What the sniffers detected inside the building were the remnants of a sleeping gas. Substances like it are employed in other countries, particularly in Eastern Europe, but aren't approved for use inside the United States. In high concentrations, they can cause some very nasty side effects. Fortunately, what you could have inhaled is very much below that threshold."
"Then why do I feel sick?" Esposito demands.
"Maybe you shouldn't have had that fourth jelly doughnut," Ryan offers.
"Did you find anyone inside?" Kate queries.
The creases in Purvis's forehead deepen. "We did, 20 victims, all deceased, but not due to the gas. Apparently, while they were unconscious, someone shot them, two bullets to the head where they would do the most damage."
"Someone shot 20 people?" Rick exclaims.
Purvis swallows. "At very close range."
Rick feels any residual warmth from his night with Beckett drain from his body.
"We have fans going, to expel any remaining gas," Purvis continues. "It's safe to reenter if you want to have a look."
Kate's eyes meet Rick's and the two detectives' gazes as they nod. "Let's go."
The crime scene is eerily almost bloodless. With bullets to the brainstem cutting off the victims' vital functions, their hearts had been unable to pump the life-giving fluid. Velda Brown and the young women working for her died wherever they had succumbed to the gas. Some of the working ladies had been in bed or watching television. One had even been in the shower, which is still running. Velda had been in front of the large screen capable of displaying satellite feed from her boss. It was off, and any electronics for retaining memory had been removed. The killer had been trained in more than taking lives. Still, Kate will have CSU come in to gather prints, trace, and DNA. Given the vocation of the house's occupants, the amount of DNA present could be enough to overwhelm the lab's analysts, but Kate is hoping for luck with other evidence. The killer has to be stopped before the slaughter toll grows.
We'll need a thorough canvass of the area," Kate commands. "We'll also need to review all the traffic cam footage and shots from any other cameras within a five-block radius."
"This neighborhood may have had a facelift but folks around here still aren't going to be anxious to talk to any cops, especially if they're as pale as my partner," Esposito points out.
"Right," Kate acknowledges. "You lead the canvass and take LT with you to help coordinate. Ryan, you're on traffic video. I'll put in the paperwork for anything we can get from banks and store security cameras. Someone has to have caught something."
"What do you want me to do?' Rick asks.
One answer springs to mind, but Kate orders it to the back of her brain. "Castle, research on gasses and other obscure weapons is right down your alley. Find out as much as you can about banned sleep gasses and who actually uses them."
"Starting with the Russians?" Rick assumes.
"Right. And find out if there's any specific meaning attached to a bullet in the brainstem and one in the forehead."
'I can probably do both those things better with my subscription services at home," Rick figures.
"I'll drop you on the way back to the precinct. But work fast, Castle. The killer could already be stalking the next target."
"As fast as my fingers can hit the keys," Rick promises.
Hunt checks the most recent transcript of NYPD chatter. The attaché used gas before he shot 20 people: efficient but lazy or just plain stupid. Gases leave traces that can be identified and tracked. It's consistent with his previous behavior. He was probably anxious to get back to Dungeon Alley. A cop as good as Kate Beckett could be able to figure out where the gas originated. And if she can't, with Richard's training, he can. It won't take him long, either. And if the attaché's handler figures that out, Richard is in more danger than ever. Hunt will file his unofficial report on local Russian activities, including what the NYPD will no doubt be uncovering. Then he can concentrate his efforts on watching his son's back.
"Did you find something?" Kate asks Ryan, who called her into Tech.
"Two somethings. First, is a car with diplomatic plates that drove past the traffic cam closest to the murder. It drives away again in the opposite direction, about an hour later. The second one is a car that drove into the street the brownstone is on but didn't come out the other end until just after Special Services showed up."
"Can you trace the plate?" Kate asks.
"That's the really weird thing. When I tried to run it the screen flashed a warning that the information is restricted."
"No explanation for why?"
"Nope. Just restricted. And the computer wouldn't allow me to do anything after that except leave the site. I had to go through the sign-on thing all over again. Whoever was driving that car has connections. Do you think it was one of Bracken's people?"
"Bracken's got connections, but I don't think he could control a DMV search," Kate muses. "The only other time we've run up against that kind of thing before was when we stumbled across operatives of one of the U.S. intelligence agencies."
"Someone from U.S. intelligence was keeping an eye on the guy with the diplomatic plates?" Ryan wonders.
"Maybe, but then why wouldn't he take off until Special Services arrived? That makes no sense. Anyway, I'll contact the Russian Consulate and see if they're willing to give us anything on diplomatic plates guy."
Ryan shakes his head. "Good luck with that, Beckett."
'Yeah, I'll need it."
Rick wonders if he's imagining that Kate's scent still lingers in the air of the loft as he drops into his desk chair and wakes up his computer. The use of gases by Russia and other nations formerly of the Soviet bloc is nothing new. There was a chapter on it in one of the briefing manuals he had to memorize for Agent Turner. Still, by now, the information will be outdated. He can start with gases that are officially restricted for U.S. usage – particularly the ones with nasty side effects. Those were most likely perceived through usage history, which will lead back to their origination. The restrictions alone are not generally considered classified information. However, when available for public access, the reasons behind the restrictions may be covered with a heavy coat of whitewash. Still, bit by bit, he can strip that away, and get to whatever dirty secrets lie beneath. Given the assassination of so many women, most of whose sins consisted merely of providing pleasure to very willing recipients, Rick imagines the dirt is both deep and slimy.