Unexpected Appearance Chapter 42

Two men holding black hoods are already in Richard Krumholtz's lab when Rick and Kate arrive. "Castle, what the hell is going on?" Krumholtz demands.

"Despite the frightening images black hoods may conjure up, these guys are here to save your ass," Rick explains.

"We have indications that a mole in the NYPD is trying to suppress any evidence against Bracken," Kate adds. "Unfortunately, that puts you pretty close to the top of the hit list."

"So we had to enlist some, um, outside help," Rick continues. "And they're kind of touchy about revealing the locations of their operations. I've worn the hoods before. They're really not so bad. The fabric breathes."

"And I'm supposed to wear one of them to be taken to God knows where?" Krumholtz questions.

"Unless you want to be a sitting duck for a guy whom we've observed to be a particularly sadistic hitman, yeah," Rick confirms. "But hey, you might even enjoy your junket. They've got great tech."

Krumholtz stares doubtfully at the hoods. "I'll believe that when I see it. Or am I going to see it?"

"Oh, they'll let you take those off when you get there," Rick assures him, putting a hand on the nervous professor's shoulder. "Hey, it's going to be all right."

"I'll be adding extra to your bill for this," Krumholz threatens.

Rick nods. "I wouldn't expect anything else."

The downward elevator ride is longer than Rick remembered, but he, Kate, and Krumholtz are finally ushered into a room and told they can remove their hoods. Krumholz looks around. "This is an audio lab, but I've never seen some of this equipment except as renderings in journals predicting future developments."

"You'll have everything you need to complete your project, a young woman with a nametag reading "Merkes" assures him. "Your work in progress was transported with you. In the room next door, you'll find living quarters with clothing and sundries. Your meals will be delivered to you."

"What kind of meals?" he questions. "I keep the Kashrut."

Merkes nods. "A number of our people do. They'll be prepared accordingly."

"I need to call my mother before sundown on Friday," Krumholtz declares. "She expects me for the Shabbat meal."

"We'll see that you get access to a secure phone for the purpose," Merkes tells him. "And Detective Beckett, Mr. Castle, I need you to follow the agents who brought you in. Someone wants to talk to you."

"If it's who I think, I want to talk to him too," Rick says.

"Richard, Detective Beckett," Hunt acknowledges as they are led into a room filled with computer consoles and monitors. We've been tracking the associations of Nicholas Kasparov and have some data you'll need to safeguard your investigation – and yourselves. He indicates a viewscreen showing the interior of a bar. This is one of Kasparov's favorite spots for a meet. As far as he knows, there are no internal cameras, but some of our equipment broadcasts in bursts undetectable to conventional scanners. Watch. That's Kasparov, taking a seat at that table."

"He's not doing anything," Rick protests.

"Keep watching," Hunt urges as a stern-looking, tall, bald-headed man comes into the frame and takes a seat opposite Kasparov.

"He looks familiar," Kate says.

"You may have seen him from time to time, but you wouldn't want to see too much of him," Hunt says. "That's Captain Marcus Donovan, head of Internal Affairs for the NYPD."

"The guy who spies on all the other cops, the moles' mole," Rick realizes.

"Including monitoring all of NYPD detectives' computer searches," Kate adds. "He could have picked up the renewed interest in Simmons from Narcotics or even from one of my guys, Detective Ryan. No wonder Kasparov had Simmons taken out."

"Do you know who did it?" Rick asks.

"We intercepted a transmission Kasparov sent to an Igor Petrov, a man known to greatly enjoy his work." Another picture flashes onscreen. "That's Petrov."

"He was one of the phony cops who helped Lockwood escape," Kate exclaims. "Bracken is using Russian assassins to do his dirty work."

"And also help run the show," Rick points out. "Kasparov must be his Russian wrangler."

"We have to warn the boys not to work on the case on their computers or landlines in the precinct," Kate says.

"Doesn't IU keep track of calls made on NYPD cell phones, too?" Rick asks.

"As far as we know, only the metadata, not the actual calls," Hunt says.

Kate leans on a nearby console. "That's more than bad enough. At least Montgomery gathered his evidence on his own, and Donovan has no way of knowing where the original tape is."

"We can work from my system at the loft," Rick says. "It has firewalls and malware protection out the wazoo. Competitors and even fans are always trying to get a look at my work. My firewalls can get pinged a hundred times a day."

"We can't just let Donovan sit in IA sucking up information to feed to Kasparov!" Kate protests.

"Actually, that may be exactly what you want to do," Hunt suggests.

"Meaning disinformation that will keep Bracken on the wrong track," Rick guesses.

Hunt nods. "Exactly."

"Like what?" Kate queries.

"Like creating the impression that you're concentrating your efforts on finding a killer with a signature like Petrov's." Hunt offers.

Rick grins. "So that Donovan will have no idea that we know about Petrov or Kasparov or their connection to Bracken."

"But in the meantime, we're actually throwing everything we can into developing our case against Bracken." With all of this," Kate says, gesturing at the multiple consoles and screens, "you wouldn't know where Lockwood, Petrov, and the other phony cops are hiding out, would you?"

"No. We can use our resources to track Kasparov because he's a known agent of an unfriendly power. But Petrov is too low level for us to keep eyes on and Lockwood is an American citizen on American soil."

Rick snorts. "As if that's stopped you before."

"It stops us from putting any data into official documents, especially those transmitted to domestic law enforcement."

"Have you at least got a picture of Petrov?" Kate asks. "As part of investigating Simmons' murder, my people will be looking at all the footage from traffic cams, ATMs, anything in the neighborhood with video. If he pops up somewhere, I can make sure the search heads in the right direction. Maybe he'll lead us to Lockwood."

"I'll make sure you get one. But if you do find Petrov and the others, just make sure that Donovan can't pick up on any mention of Kasparov," Hunt warns. "Kasparov will make sure a lid goes down on everything and be on the next plane to Russia."

"We'll be careful," Kate assures him. "And unless you have anything else we can use, we need to get out of here and start laying a false trail for Donovan."

"I'll take you out," Hunt says, "but you'll have to wear the hoods again."

Kate sighs. "Fine."

Montgomery pulls an 8 X 10 of a fishing boat out of the drawer of his desk and stares at it. He's been dreaming about buying one like it and spending weekends and summers off of Long Island pulling in a catch. That dream could be almost impossible now. When the contents of that tape come out, if the department suspects he was involved in Bracken's graft, he could lose his pension. If the statute of limitations for crimes like that hadn't long expired, he would also end up in prison. But hopefully, he'll be taken at his word that he was just trying to nail a bad guy. Whatever happens, he's going to make sure Bracken's nailed now.