Papa Jack Chapter 20

"A ship? Really, Castle?' Kate questions as Richard passes on his information gleaned from Powell.

"That's what he said," the writer confirms. "And it makes sense, Beckett. A ship could sail around to various ports, unloading jewels and gems as well as electronics if they're stolen by the same thieves. The funds could be deposited in a banking haven like Nevis until whoever is running the murder-homicide ring wants to spend them."

"Spend them on what, Castle?" Kate wonders. "Wouldn't it just be easier to fence the goods and buy fancy cars or homes or whatever right here in New York?"

"It might," Richard considers, "unless the funds are used obtaining something not available in New York – or at least not available in bulk." He stares into the empty space over the bullpen. "Picture this. We have a bad guy or bad guys with a home base in New York, but they put up a good enough front that no one thinks of them as bad guys. They want to make a lot of money here but to maintain that front, not in any way that goes into the public records. So, with knowledge of business conditions in the city, they figure out how to con their marks into letting the fox into the henhouse. The chickens end up dead. The fox takes its haul to one of any number of places a boat can tie up, a deserted pier in the city or some cove on the Long Island coast. The boat takes the illegally obtained treasures to the pirate ship, which goes on its merry way in international waters. At the same time, an evil craftsman plies his trade. The ship docks where the goods can be unloaded under the radar. When the ill-gotten gains are deposited with a suitably discreet banker, the ship takes off on the next leg of its journey to pick up cargo, the sale of which in New York will greatly multiply the profits. So, Beckett, what could an evil overlord purchase overseas and sell for a lot more in New York?"

Kate presses her fingers against her lower lip. "Assuming that your story isn't just some wild writer's fantasy, the obvious answer would be drugs."

The writer nods. "The profits from which could also be deposited in some secret offshore account."

Kate's brows descend on the bridge of her nose. "Castle, that's the most off-the-wall thing I've heard you come up with yet."

"Have your standard NYPD procedures turned up any of the stolen merchandise?" Richard queries.

"No," Kate admits. "But if your scenario bears even some semblance of reality, how would we catch these guys? We can't trace stolen gems or electronics that could be on a ship almost anywhere. And even if we could, we'd have no authority to make an arrest."

Richard nods. "Which means you'd have to make one here."

"Castle, there must be thousands of jewelry stores in the city and about a thousand electronics stores. It's not like I can just set up a stakeout."

"Two-thousand-two-hundred and forty-five and 963, respectively. I checked. But how many of them are close enough to going out of business to fit the requirements of our pirates' scam?"

"Phyllis Lehman said that the chain stores were killing her husband's business," Kate recalls. "Whether it fits your story or not, a jewelry or electronics store trying to compete with a chain in the same neighborhood would be a very likely target."

"The big sales don't usually start until pretty close to Thanksgiving and Black Friday. A business advertising one right now has got to be pretty desperate," Richard figures. "Any budget-conscious consumer can check out sales. A nasty, murderous crook could do the same thing, as can a savvy cop."

Kate jerks open the bottom drawer of her desk and pulls a copy of The Ledger out of her tote. "Let's have a look."

Richard gazes at the stores lining the sidewalk on 71st Street between Columbus and Amsterdam. "Look at that, Beckett. If you spit hard from in front of Nielson's Fine Jewelry, you could hit a customer coming out the door of the recently opened Bared's Jewelry Galleria. And check out the sales signs in Nielson's window. 'Prices slashed! Best buys in town!' Pretty desperate. Nielson has to be ripe for the pickings."

"It could be the next target," Kate agrees. "And if it is going to be hit, the MO would have it happening at night when there's a lot less activity on the street. Stuart Lehman was killed at 11:30. The sign on Nielson's door says it closes at ten. If I'm going to stake out the store, that would be a good time to start."

"If you're going to stake out the store? By yourself? What's Sherlock without Watson? How about your faithful shadow?"

"Castle, sitting next to my desk in the precinct or visiting a crime scene isn't dangerous. But I'd be watching for someone who walks into stores and shoots the owners dead. I'll have other cops ready to back me up if I have to go after him. They might have to slow down to avoid hitting you. Worse, you could get caught in the crossfire, or the killer could decide to shoot you to prevent having a witness. I can't knowingly put a civilian in danger like that."

Richard's eyes reflect his consternation. "Detective Beckett, remember me, the guy who took down a knife-wielding would-be bomber? I can take care of myself."

"Whatever martial arts tricks you know, Castle, you're still a civilian. I can't knowingly endanger you."

"What if I promise to stay in the car?"

"The car's not bulletproof, Castle. I'm sorry, no stakeout. But," Kate adds, "if we do catch the guy, I'll give you a blow-by-blow description of what happened."

"Blow-by-blow?"

"For a fellow Comicadian, every bop and kapow," Kate promises.

"If you do corral a killer, can I sit in on the grilling? That won't be dangerous – unless he catches fire."

"I'd have to clear that with Captain Montgomery. You did pretty well with Phyllis Lehman. So, if the captain approves, you can be in the room for the interrogation. Just don't give the guy a handkerchief."

"Detective, I wouldn't dream of it."

With Bared's closing at nine, the foot traffic in front of Nielson's at ten o'clock is almost non-existent. Kate managed to find a parking space for her unit across the street in front of the Bountiful Lady Boutique, which also closed at nine. Kate watches the entrance of Nielson's through a scope. At 10:15, a man wearing a jacket that could easily hide a gun approaches Nielson's, pulls on the door handle, and goes inside. Kate grabs her radio. "Possible suspect entering store now. I'm approaching to observe. Get ready to move in."

As quickly as she can, fingers grasping her weapon, Kate crosses 71st Street. Through the glass of Nielson's entry door, she can see the suspect raising his pistol. He's too far inside the store for her to tackle in time. She yanks open the door and fires. As her backup rushes in behind her, Kate stands in shocked silence. One of the other cops checks the suspect. "He's still alive. I'll get medics in here."

Shaking herself alert, Kate looks across the room at Oscar Nielson. "Are you all right, Sir?"

Nielson gazes at the man bleeding on the floor. "Fine, but who's going to pay for cleaning the blood out of my carpet?"

Kate struggles against the inappropriate laughter threatening to burst through her lips. "I don't know, Sir, but I'll look into it."