Unexpected Appearance Chapter 37
With a file laid out on his desk, Rick circles dates, times, and anything else numerical he can use for comparison. Opening Johanna Beckett's corresponding notebook, he scans for any notation that might be a match. He goes through Johanna's combinations of letters, numbers, and slashes several times before he starts to catch on. The first letter or letters, capitalized, are always the day of the week. It's followed by a number representing the time and then a slash. After that comes some representation of the person, place, or both involved with a meeting. After decoding ten of them, he's sure he can make out more. At the sound of Alexis' descent from her room, he checks his watch. It's six am. He'll make breakfast for his daughter. The time will give Beckett a little extra sleep – assuming that, unlike him, she could sleep – before he calls her with what he's found.
Kate grabs a large wooden box from the top of her closet and pulls out her mother's last personal notebook. "We should work from the back," Rick suggests. "You know at least some of what your mother was planning before she died, don't you?"
"I know she was planning to meet Dad and me at a restaurant for dinner. She never showed. It was a Saturday, Jan 9, 1999.
"OK, let's look for that notation, then. It should be pretty close to the end. What time were you supposed to meet?"
"Around six."
"Here. This should be it. We have upper case SA, for Saturday, six, slash, JiKa – that would be your dad and you. What was the name of the restaurant?"
"Cillian of Killarney."
"Right, slash CK. That all fits. So, Montgomery remembered giving your mother the tape the week before Christmas. We shouldn't have to go back too far. Look at this! RM, for Roy Montgomery? Then, later that day, Cas. Cassette? Slash family."
"Castle, Mom didn't meet with Dad and me that day."
"And she didn't refer to you as 'family.' You were 'JiKa.' So what would be family besides you and your father?"
"My Nona had already passed away by that time, so there would only be Aunt Theresa and my cousin Sophie, at least in New York."
"It has to mean something," Castle insists. "Something that would only make sense within your family, like your dad giving your mother elephants."
Kate springs out of her seat on the couch. "That's it, Castle! The elephants! You know the ones I keep on my desk at the precinct?"
"Yeah, I almost broke one once when I was trying to find a pen."
"My mother called them 'The Family.' After she died, my father asked me to keep them. He was so shaky back then he was afraid he'd break one. Maybe he did once. There's a seam on the big one that looks like it was glued together. And it kind of rattles."
"Like it has something inside? Like maybe a microcassette? There would be just enough room."
"Yes, there would," Kate agrees. "Let's go find out."
As they're leaving her apartment, Kate's phone lets out a text alert. "Dr. Krumholz analyzed the recording of Lockwood's call from the prison. He says the quality was lousy, but he's 70% confident that the voice of the recipient doesn't match Bracken. He believes he detects the slightest Russian accent."
Rick pounds his fist against the doorframe. "Damn! It would be so much easier if that call incriminated Bracken. But it backs up our theory that he's working with the Russians, or at least one Russian."
"And it makes it even more important to find that tape," Kate says. "Let's go!"
Through his scope, Hunt studies the mansion in the Westchester woods. Satellite pictures have shown buses full of women coming in every night and out every morning. Normally, the agency wouldn't give a damn about a place like that unless it was being used to gather intelligence from too-talkative clients. There haven't been any reports of that, but there have been some of the movements of large amounts of currency. And two Russian nationals have been spotted coming and going. One of them was also observed meeting with Bracken at his home in Scarsdale. Even without Richard's involvement in investigating murders linked to Bracken, a congressman with access to sensitive information having a non-official meeting with a Russian national would be something to watch. Add in large amounts of currency, and the whole thing stinks to high heaven.
Still, if the ladies aren't being bussed in for sex, what are they doing? What does it have to do with the Russians? And what does it have to do with Bracken? Whatever it is can't be good.
As Hunt keeps watching, he spies a large black man wearing a jewelry store's worth of gold entering the mansion. The residents of the area enjoy their wealth but look askance at flashing it. The man's an anomaly. Hunt snaps a picture with a long-range lens and uploads it for facial recognition. It may take a while to get an ID, but Hunt expects it to be illuminating.
"Yeah, I got it," Internal Affairs Captain Marcus Donovan tells the man on the other end of his burner phone. "We keep regular surveillance on all the NYPD computers. Can't have our officers spending their workdays watching porn."
"Who gives a sh*t about porn!" Zussman retorts. "I need to know about any searches made involving my name or any of the men doing the boss' business in New York. You know who I mean."
"Yeah, I know who you mean," Donovan confirms. "But I'll have a hard time justifying flagging what looks like legitimate police work."
"So don't officially flag it!" Zussman instructs. "Just look for it as part of your ongoing oversight and report it to me. Concentrate on the 12th Precinct. If anyone starts getting too close, the boss will have his people take care of it."
"But what about me?" Donovan questions. "I can't be linked to any of that."
"The boss and I have protected you since you were a rookie," Zussman reminds him. "You'll be fine – as long as you follow orders. Understand me, Markie boy?"
"Yeah, I understand you. I'll go through the transcripts of the online activity. But usually, I have the cops under me do that kind of sh*t work, so it will take time."
"Then you'd better get to it," Zussman advises." Donovan's cell beeps the termination of the call.
As Kate rushes from the elevator, she's relieved to see the familiar pachyderms still on her desk. "We can't just break these open here, Castle. It will attract too much attention."
"We could take them back to your place – or mine," Rick suggests.
"We can't. We just got here. I have a job to do and no excuse for leaving. But we'll take them as soon as we can."
"Hey, Beckett," Ryan calls, "my guys in Narcotics, who I asked to keep an eye out for new activity from Vulcan Simmons, report that he opened a new business in Washington Heights, a car repair place."
"There would be vehicles coming in and out of there all day, it would be a great cover for receiving and distributing drugs," Kate figures.
"That's what the guys in Narcotics think too," Ryan says, "but they don't have anything solid enough for a raid. They're gonna keep watching though."
"Good." Kate fingers the seam on the Papa Elephant. "I have a feeling something is going to pop – soon."