Papa Jack Chapter 13

Jack gestures at the opulent décor of Chez Lumiere. "Pretty fancy, son. I hope the food lives up to it."

"I didn't pick it for the food, Dad," Richard confesses. "The reviews said this place has more comfortable chairs than any restaurant in the city. I loved riding with Officer Beckett, but my ass didn't. With the taxes we pay in this city, you'd think the patrol cars could at least have decent seats – in the front, anyway."

The older man chuckles. "Richard, by now, I thought you'd know that politicians only spend money on things that cover their own asses. But I doubt you wanted to have dinner to discuss the city budget."

"No, I didn't. I wanted to ask you if it would bother you if I spent more time with my mother. I mean, I talked to her at a fundraising dinner and saw her for a few minutes at the Garden. But she still has no idea who I really am, and I'm still not sure if I want to tell her."

"So, if you're planning, at least for the time being, to be just another donor to her pet causes, how do you plan to cozy up to her?"

"I'm on the board of "Supporting Starving Writers. I could propose working in tandem with Support for Starving Actors. Some actors are also writers. Stallone is. If he hadn't written Rocky, he never could have played the role. He'd probably still be scrounging for bookings. But anyway, if she agrees, we could plan a joint event together. Working on something like that would mean a lot of face time."

Jack's dark brows plunge in a troubled line. "Son, if whoever is left of the cell that worked with Anna is out for revenge, not only for her but the other cell members, striking at you could determine their next target. Normally, you don't draw much attention unless you're on one of your book tours. When is the next one?"

There's no exact release date for my next book yet, so I don't know. Probably when the Christmas shopping season starts."

"That's pretty much all year now, isn't it?" Jack observes.

"You have a point, but I was thinking early November when the jack o'lanterns and skeletons come down, and the lights, garlands, and sale signs go up. That would make it about a month and a half from now."

"Which would mean that if the cell is focusing on you and your joint fundraiser before that, it could be a target."

"Dad, the event for Katrina was pulled together as fast as it was because the devastation was on every TV screen in the country. A fundraiser for actors and writers, if I can convince my mother that we need one, wouldn't generate that kind of urgency. It could take a year to plan and execute. If the bombers are focusing on me, the largest venue on my book tour would be the most likely target."

"Do you know what that would be?"

"That's up to the PR people at Black Pawn, but if it's like my last tour, it would be the launch party at the Baron Hotel. Victor Baron likes to show up at events like that to give people the impression that he reads. He also always makes sure the press turns out to spread the word."

"So, bombs planted there could take out not only you and your readers but a personification of American capitalism," Jack realizes.

A chill shoots through Richard. "Yes, they could. So, maybe I should try to talk Black Pawn out of a launch party."

"Or the announcement of the party could be used to trap the bombers," Jack offers.

"Can the agency do that?" Richard questions.

"Ensnaring foreign operatives trying to wreak destruction on American soil?" Jack breaks open a warm roll from a basket on the table. "That's our bread and butter."

Richard carefully places the thickest, most puncture-resistant cushion he could find, on the passenger seat of Kate's patrol car. He sighs as he takes his seat. "Much better."

Kate rolls her eyes. "Glad you'll be comfortable. At roll call, Sergeant Healy told us that the drug dealers are making a push to move in around the middle schools. The marked units need to patrol around them and make sure the dealers can't get a foothold."

Richard's head shakes in disgust. "They used to wait until we were in high school. But how about inside the schools? The way I remember it, most kids bought from other kids."

"That's up to Narcotics, but word is they have people planted inside. Some of the youngest officers can pass for high school seniors. The detectives pick the ones with no laugh lines. But the job of cops on patrol is to keep the dealers away from the kids outside."

"So what are we supposed to be looking for?" Richard asks.

"I'm supposed to be looking for suspicious behavior. My training officer taught me the signs."

"Which are?"

Hanging around a school for no good reason. Unnecessary clothing, like a hoodie on a hot day, with pockets big enough to conceal drugs. But mostly hand-to-hand deals. A drug dealer will conceal a bag in his hand. A buyer will do the same with cash. They make quick contact to make the exchange."

"You mean like that?" Richard asks, pointing through the window at a rapid brushing of hands.

"Exactly like that," Kate says, pulling her vehicle to the curb just out of the dealer's line of sight and rushing across the street.

Richard pulls a small pair of binoculars out of his pocket and trains them on his favorite cop.

Officer Beckett," Captain Montgomery greets Kate as she signs out for the day. "You made one hell of a bust. Your dealer flipped on his supplier. That's gonna cut off the flow of drugs to four schools."

"She was amazing," Richard beams. "That asshole dealer had a gun, and she disarmed him before he knew what was happening."

"Which makes what I'm about to say even more deserved," Montgomery declares. "You made detective, Beckett. You won't officially get your gold shield for a few days yet. The chief will be setting up a little ceremony. But the paperwork came through, and as of next week, you'll be assigned to homicide, reporting directly to me."

"This calls for a celebration," Richard announces, rubbing his hands together. "Where would you like to go, Beckett? Per Se? Masa? Thor? The sky's the limit."

"That's very sweet, Castle, but before I do any celebrating, I need to tell my father – in person."

"But we're still going on our little field trip, aren't we?" Richard queries.

"Of course," Kate confirms. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, tomorrow."

After parking his rented Ford Taurus in the closest spot he can find to Kate Beckett's apartment building, Richard trudges up to her apartment. He hears her rapid footsteps in answer to his knock. Regarding the flattering lines of her skirt suit, as she opens the door, he whistles softly. "What? No jeans?"

"Castle, after all your research, I'd think you'd know that you're not allowed to wear jeans or anything that might look remotely like prison clothing when you visit a prisoner."

"I doubt any of the prisoners at Sing-Sing would look anything like you, Beckett, but I'm sure Pulgatti will appreciate the view. I know I do."

Kate reddens. "I want him to do more than appreciate the view. I need him to tell me what my mother was investigating about his case."

"If your mother was the only one who listened to him, he'll probably be ecstatic to talk to anyone who'll give him a hearing," Richard assumes.

"I hope so." Kate locks the apartment door behind them. "Come on, Castle. Let's go."