Papa Jack Chapter 49
As Kate stares at her computer screen, her sharp intake of breath cuts through the air in the bullpen. "The report from Dr. Murray?" Richard asks.
Lips pressed tightly together, she nods and opens the document. She swipes the back of her hand across her eyes. Reaching for her mug of now-cold coffee, she knocks over her pen holder, sending ballpoints skittering across her desk. "He did it, Castle. The knife matches. Dick Coonan killed my mother – and others. Murray is using his technique to match it against the wounds on more victims now."
"We were pretty sure he was Bracken's hitman, Kate," Richard says softly. "Murray's report can't have come as a surprise."
"No, it wasn't a surprise, Castle. But it brought things home, you know? I was sitting in a room with my mother's murderer, a man who also tried to kill me."
"Beckett, Coonan may have physically killed your mother, and he deserves to burn in hell for it, but he was only Bracken's instrument. Bracken is the devil. Coonan's just one of his evil horde – hopefully, one of the less loyal ones. So, are you going to tell him the report is in?"
"I'll tell him that it's already arrived on my computer, and he has one last chance to spill his guts before I use it to charge him with my mother's murder. If that doesn't scare the sh*t out of him, nothing will."
"You want me in Interrogation with you, or maybe Esposito or Ryan?"
"Not Esposito or Ryan. I want you. Sit up as straight as you can and stare down at Coonan. You're taller than he is. That will make him feel weaker."
"You really think so?" Richard wonders.
Kate's chair skids backward as she suddenly rises and starts toward Interrogation. "Yeah, Castle, I do. Bullies are always afraid of someone bigger. Let's go." For a minute, Kate watches Coonan through the glass in Observation. "He's sweating. Time to move in."
Taking a seat next to Kate, Castle tries his best to do as she instructed. His back is a little stiff from hunching over a signing table that was the wrong height for him, but he resolves to not let that matter. Imagining an iron rod down his spine, he glares at Coonan from above.
As his baby blue eyes blink under the onslaught, Coonan concentrates his attention on Kate. "What's the matter, Detective? Your expert having problems getting his computer to spit out what you want to hear?"
Smiling sweetly, Kate shakes her head. "I doubt he had any problem at all. His report is attached to an email that's sitting on my screen right now, just waiting for me to download it. This is your last chance, Dickie. Once I've read what Dr. Murray has to say, any chance of a deal is off the table. I'll go with whatever I have, even if it only sends you away for 39 years. You're 31 now, right? So even if you get the minimum, you'll be seventy when you get out – assuming you live that long. You won't see as well. You won't hear as well. You won't move as well. You won't be stalking any more victims. You won't be ripping anyone off with a phony charity, either. You'll be a sad old man wandering the streets of the city with all the other sad old men, hoping for a break that never comes. But if that report says what I think it will, you won't even make it back to the streets. You'll die in a hole, weak, scared, and alone – unless another prisoner is merciful enough to shank you first. So what's it going to be, Dick? Do I tell the DA you cooperated, or do you spend whatever's left of your life in a maximum security rats' nest?"
Coonan gazes across the table at Kate, up at Castle's unflinching glare, and back to Kate again. "Tell the DA I cooperated."
As she leans against the counter in the break room, Richard hands Kate a latte with a victory V inscribed in the foam. "You got a confession from Coonan and his testimony against Bracken and his henchmen. So why don't you look happier?"
"Because even with Coonan going to prison for the rest of his life, he'll still have some level of comfort there. He deserves to be chained to a rock somewhere with crows pecking out his eyes and vultures making as painful a meal as possible of the rest of his organs, especially the lower ones."
"Interesting imagery. I never realized how bloodthirsty you are – not that it's unwarranted. But there's something else, isn't there?"
"Bracken! We still don't know where he is, and even if we did, there's probably nothing we can do about it. And never mind the birds. I could tear him to shreds myself."
"Remind me to never get on your bad side, Beckett. And where Bracken is concerned, all hope may not be lost. There's a chance that…." Richard catches sight of his watch. "Damn! I have to show up in an hour to tape an interview with Kimmel. And tomorrow morning, I'm on with three radio shows, plus appearing live with Kelly Ripa. Then I have to leave for Chicago tomorrow afternoon. But something may be happening with Bracken. Early lunch tomorrow. We'll talk."
Richard rushes out of the break room, leaving Kate clinging to her warm mug and gazing at his retreating back.
"Aren't you supposed to be on Kimmel tonight?" Jack asks when Richard comes to his door.
Richard's eyebrows shoot up. "I didn't know you followed my guest shots."
"I do when I can. But what are you doing here?" The older man inquires.
"I already taped my appearance. It'll air in a couple of hours. But Beckett's ready to jump out of her skin. I need to know if there's any progress on tracking Bracken."
A surprising grin spreads across Jack's face. "Funny you should ask, Son. There are some interesting developments. Come sit, have a beer, and I'll lay out what I can of the scenario for you."
"So, let me get this straight, " Richard says, taking the last swallow from a bottle of Heineken's. "Satellite pictures showed Bracken's yacht, the Eliza, anchored at Cubagua Island off the coast of Venezuela. The island is known for pearls and can only be reached by private boat. There are several more famous pearl islands in the area that the Venezuelan Coast Guard keeps under surveillance to combat piracy. Typically, they don't pay as much attention to Cubagua. However, after a very convenient tip that the Eliza is operated by pirates and there might be contraband aboard, the Venezuelan Coast Guard raided the yacht. Then, whom should they find but Congressman Bracken, along with a load of stolen jewelry, kilos of illegal drugs, and assorted foreign currencies."
"Right," Jack acknowledges. "The Venezuelans don't take kindly to pirates, especially not American ones, and they don't give a damn if Bracken is a congressman or King of the May. He's in a Venezuelan prison that makes U.S. maximum security prisons look like vacation spots."
"So, how much of this can I tell Beckett?"
"You can tell her all about the Venezuelans arresting Bracken for piracy. Just don't tell her where the tip came from."
"She's getting used to that."
"Most of the story will eventually pop up in the American press anyway," Jack continues.
"Any chance that the U.S. will attempt to get Bracken back?" Richard asks.
"A disgraced congressman fleeing to a country with no extradition treaty? The diplomats will probably make a show of trying, but they won't try very hard. Bracken's too much of an embarrassment."
"So Bracken's going to rot in a Venezuelan prison?"
"Unless he gets murdered by another prisoner or dies of some tropical disease, that would be my guess," Jack offers.
Laughlines fan from Richard's gleeful eyes. "Couldn't happen to a nicer guy!"