Papa Jack Chapter 102
Propped up on his elbow, Richard stares down at Kate as she begins to stir. He smiles as her eyelids flutter. "Good morning."
Kate draws herself up against the bed's no-frills backboard. "Good morning, yourself."
"This isn't a room-service type establishment, but it won't take me long to start fresh coffee," Richard offers.
"While you're doing that, I want to check in with the Virginia State Police and see if they have a timeline yet on handing off Drummond."
"Fine," Richard agrees, "then maybe we can do something about hunting up breakfast. The fast food hawkers across the road should offer mystery breakfast burritos or English muffins stuck to eggs with what is questionably cheese. Or I can check with Benji or one of his counterparts to see if there's somewhere we can get a decent omelet."
"How about waffles?" Kate wonders. "I spotted an Irresistible Iron on our way back from Three Coins last night."
"Your Sherlockian detective eyes haven't lost any of their sharpness," Richard observes. "Waffles sound delightful." After a quick kiss, he swings his legs over the side of the bed. "I'll get our first dose of caffeine brewing while you make your call, and we can get ready to go."
"What did the Virginia cops say?" Richard asks, handing Kate a dark and steaming cup.
"That the paperwork should be in by late this afternoon, and they're hoping I can take Drummond off their hands by tonight. Apparently, he's a pain in the ass. He claims he's on an all-protein diet, and he wanted them to feed him steaks."
"He wasn't eating steaks at Bongo Burger," Richard notes.
"That's what they told him," Kate says. "And the captain in charge figures that if Kyle can digest Bongo Burgers, he can digest anything."
"On the other hand, if we get him a steak to eat on the plane trip back to New York, at least it will shut him up for a while," Richard points out. "I can do without lectures on the standing of the Drummonds in high society, especially since Celia kicked Kyle loose. He's going to find himself on a much lower rung of that ladder. Mmm, I should call the charter company to make sure we have a plane for tonight and advise them of an additional passenger. They'll also need to know there will be an NYPD escort waiting at the other end. There will be, won't there?"
"Yeah, we should have at least one marked unit meeting us, maybe two."
Richard nods, reaching for his cell phone from a bedside table. "While you take care of that, I'm going to grab a shower," Kate announces.
"I'd join you, but the stalls here aren't sized for a shared experience."
"No, they're not," Kate agrees. "And I don't plan to soak."
Freshly washed and dressed, Kate joins a scowling Richard. "What's wrong?"
"The charter company says they can't fly Drummond or any violent criminal in police custody. Their insurance won't cover it. To add insult to injury, since I booked a round trip, they want me to pay for it. Damn! I should have known. If I was writing this adventure, it could have never gone smoothly."
"Castle, you can still take the private plane back," Kate says. "The state cops can escort me and Drummond to a commercial flight, and I can have Ryan and Esposito or some unis meet us at the other end. You'll probably be there enough ahead of me to meet me at the other end, too. We can still deliver Drummond for processing together. Or I can try sticking the boys with it."
"No way do you hand Kyle off to Ryan and Esposito," Richard declares. "I want to watch his every humiliating step on returning to the hoosegow."
"You really can't stand him, can you?" Kate queries.
"Why would any man who respects women be able to stand a murderous rapist? Guys like that give our whole gender a bad name. But even without the criminality, he'd be a jerk. I have no problem with someone having pride in their accomplishments – especially if they have genuine talent and have worked their ass off. Unfortunately, I've known some writers who became bestsellers, not because their books were any good or they worked at it, but because their families could afford to pay for a fancy PR firm. You run a glitzy enough ad campaign, and it doesn't matter if your writing is sh*t, it will sell anyway. That makes all the rest of us have to work that much harder to build up a following."
"Money talks, Castle. God knows how many suspects who have committed minor offenses or are straight-up innocent are stuck on Rikers because their families can't raise a few bucks for bail. Then they get railroaded into plea deals because they can't afford anything but an overworked and underpaid public defender."
"And you want to try to unrig the system." Richard perceives.
"Yeah, I guess I do. But I can't do anything until I get Drummond back to New York. When do you have to hop back on your charter?"
"That's flexible. I just have to give the company enough notice to make sure the plane's at the right airport." The thunder in Richard's expression starts to fade. "Still plenty of time for waffles. Just give me a moment to wash up and get dressed."
Kate grabs a handful of firm Castle derriére. "And they say it's women who keep men waiting."
"I shall endeavor to be worth it."
Richard waits impatiently alongside four uniformed NYPD officers as Kate's plane taxis into its gate at LaGuardia. Before she had to turn off her cell, she had texted that she and Drummond were safely aboard. She had her handcuffed prisoner in the back of the plane in a window seat where he'd have to climb over her to get to an aisle. She made it clear that she wasn't letting him go anywhere until the plane landed. The flight time is only supposed to be a little over an hour, and she made sure a VSP officer took him to the restroom before boarding so he'd have no excuse for leaving his seat. Kate and Drummond will be deplaning before the other passengers, which will give them minimum time aboard the aircraft.
An airline employee nods to the officers a minute before Kate and Drummond exit the jetway, and the uniformed cops surround the prisoner. "You made it," Richard says. "Anything eventful happen in flight?"
"Nothing much. Kyle made a fuss because he couldn't eat his pretzels with his handcuffs on."
Richard smirks. "This from the man who claimed to be on an all-protein diet?"
Amusement lights Kate's eyes. "I reminded him of that. Oh, it looks like the unis are ready to transport our meat-eater to the 12th. I'll be riding with them. Meet you there?"
"Count on it," Richard declares.
As Richard is about to drive his car out of short-term parking, his cell phone buzzes. He smiles as the ID flashes on the screen. "Hi, Dad. What's going on?"
"Richard, I, um, Martha and I have something to tell you. Can you meet us for dinner tonight? And bring Detective Beckett if you want to."
"I'll have to check with her, Dad, but is something wrong?"
"No, Son. For the first time in over 30 years, something is right. Get back to me as soon as you can."
"I will," Richard promises. For a moment, he just stares at his phone. "What the hell?" The roar of a plane overhead reminds him that he has to get away from the airport and to the 12th precinct ASAP. The unis are probably on the way back already, and he doesn't want to miss a minute of Drummond's walk of shame and Kate's triumphal return.