Papa Jack Chapter 45

As he stares across the street at Coonan's building, Richard yawns.

"You and Anonymous have a late night, Castle?" Kate inquires from her unit's driver's seat.

"It was worth it. He kept me updated."

"About Coonan?"

"About Bracken. The bastard appears to be headed for sanctuary in Venezuela or one of its islands. At least we have an idea where he is."

Kate sighs. "Which doesn't help much if we can't get him back. Anything else?"

"Not relating to this case."

"Yeah? So relating to what?"

"A decent source of Irish stew. Look, Beckett, can we just concentrate on Coonan?"

"We are concentrating on Coonan, Castle. But nothing's happening. Oh! Wait! That's him coming out. Scrunch down! He could recognize us!"

Richard slides as far down in his seat as he can go while Kate does the same, except for the briefest glances to make sure Coonan is headed for his well-appointed but not too flashy Mercury Marquis. As soon as Coonan settles his bulky body behind the wheel and pulls out of his parking space, Kate counts to three. With enough of a time gap to avoid detection, she follows Coonan just closely enough to keep him in sight but avoid detection.

"Looks like he's heading for the Bronx," Richard offers as Coonan takes a northeastern route.

"Mmm," Kate agrees, "but that includes a lot of territory, and as the traffic thins out up there, it will be harder to keep him from seeing us."

"So, just in case you have to drop back, let's try and figure out where he's going," Richard proposes.

"How, Castle?"

"We're assuming that Marks transmitted an assignment from Bracken, right? I doubt it would be about drugs yet. This soon after the raid on Simmons, even if Coonan can still put his hands on any, they'd be too hot to touch. So if not drugs, what else would he be after?"

"Weapons!" Kate realizes. "He wouldn't keep them in his Freedom Schools office. They'd raise too many questions. And he wouldn't want them in his apartment in case he got busted."

"That's what I was thinking too. And a guy like Coonan could have an arsenal, which would mean he'd need space. So where would he find space where someone would be least likely to go strolling by?"

"The warehouse district in the South Bronx. No one just goes strolling in that neighborhood. Coonan would have to take 135th Street to Third Ave. If I lose him, I can catch up to him there."

Richard settles back in his seat. "And we're off to the mean streets. Hmm. Manhattan has mean streets. The South Bronx's streets would be meaner."

Fully aware of the likelihood of finding his car stripped or gone if he parks it outside his warehouse, Coonan pulls his Marquis inside. He crosses an expanse of concrete flooring to a humidity-controlled room. The last thing he needs is rust building up on his guns or knives. He surveys his neatly organized weapons lockers. The killer is not entirely sure what he'll need to take out an over-curious cop and her just as curious writer sidekick. It will depend on where he can find them away from prying eyes. Settling on his favorite knife, the one he used to murder Johanna Beckett, as his first choice, he also grabs pistols and rifles of assorted calibers and ranges. If he needs to set up a sniping nest, he wants to be fully prepared. He loads his choices into a sturdy canvas duffel bag. As an afterthought, the hitman throws in a few grenades and flashbangs in case he has to make an unexpected escape. Hefting his load, Coonan returns to his Marquis and leaves the warehouse.

"He wasn't in there long," Richard notes. "It couldn't have taken much effort to retrieve his weapons or whatever he picked up."

"Damn! I wish I could search his car!" Kate exclaims, preparing to continue trailing her suspect.

"Next time he parks it, you could break in," Richard suggests.

"But anything I found would be obtained during an illegal search. It wouldn't be admissible in court."

"Would it have to be admissible in court, Beckett? If you know what he has, you can prepare for when he tries to use it. Once he tries, it will be as admissible as hell."

"Yeah, but what if he uses it to kill someone first?" Kate questions.

"Are you going to let him kill someone, Detective?" Richard challenges.

Kate's eyes flash. "No! No matter what weapons he has or what he tries to do, he's not killing anyone."

Richard nods. "That's what I thought. How are you at picking locks on car trunks?"

"Not great. When cops want into a trunk, we just pop it or pry it open. I don't suppose you know how to do it."

"That's one skill I've never acquired, but I did use a consultant who excels in that area for Blinding Storm. I could engage his services again for a few minutes, preferably when the car is out of sight of your surveillance team – like when you're on stakeout duty."

"Castle, I can't approve of you hiring someone to break into Coonan's car. And if I'm there, I'd have to arrest him."

"You won't have to approve of anything. You'll be watching for Coonan to come out of his building, not looking at his car. You won't have any idea something is happening because you won't see it. I won't see it either. My expert can pick the lock, take a picture of what's in the trunk, and close it up again. The whole thing will take less than a minute. No signs of breaking in. No entering. No theft. Then, if you should just happen to see a photo of the inside of someone's trunk while the printout is lying on the desk in my loft, then you see it."

"Castle, I can't know anything about any criminal activity."

"Of course not, Beckett, but excuse me," Richard continues, taking out his cell phone. "I need to check my messages. And as a busy author, I may need to send a text or two."

Kate looks straight ahead through the windshield. "Of course, Castle. Take care of your business."

Manny Brixto is just putting his feet up to watch his favorite Roadrunner cartoons when his phone alerts him to a text. Richard Castle is in need of his services. The author didn't go into detail. He just requested a meeting, preferably immediately. Manny was looking forward to having a good laugh at Wile E. Coyote's expense, but working with Castle is fun, and the fee he pays is even more fun. Manny texts back the author. "Favorite haunt in an hour."

"Beckett, at your next stop, anywhere near a subway station, I need you to let me out," Richard says.

"Why?"

"You didn't want to know. You don't know. Let's just say the game's afoot."

"Fine," Kate agrees hesitantly. "Meet up later on stakeout at Coonan's?"

"As soon as my little writer's feet will carry me."

"Castle, Truman Capote had little writer's feet. You must wear at least a size 11."

"Good eye," Richard acknowledges. "All right, as fast as my size 11 writer's feet will carry me." Kate pulls to a stop. "See you later."

"Don't do anything stupid, Castle." Kate urges.

"Detective Beckett, I will do my best to obey."