Papa Jack Chapter 109

The spicy, savory aroma of lasagna still lingers in the air when Kate's alarm wakes her at 7 am. Her thoughts fill with images from the night before. By the time they'd finished their "appetizer," Castle had to reheat the tempting layers of meat, cheese, and pasta. But neither of them regretted it. The later sit-down gave them a chance to discuss the Josephson case. Kate had thought it a little strange that Bracken had chosen to frame the man instead of simply making him a victim of "random violence," as he had done with Johanna Beckett and some of her confidants. Richard pointed out that the murder of an ADA would have garnered enough publicity to remain a mystery, possibly even the subject of a "true crime" TV show. The story of a merely greedy, dishonest lawyer would be regarded as commonplace or even expected. At best, he would receive fleeting press. Bracken's strategy had been cunning as well as maximally cruel to both Josephson and his family. "Yet another sin for Bracken to atone in his Venezuelan prison," Richard declared.

"Bracken can't live long enough to atone for all his sins," Kate insisted. "But it's up to me to make sure Josephson doesn't suffer much longer for this one."

Back in the present, Kate throws her legs over the side of the bed and, getting to her feet, gazes down at an open-eyed Richard. "This morning, I'll go through the papers from Mom that I have at my apartment. Then, I'll move on to Dad's storage unit."

"Want a second set of eyes?" Richard offers.

"Didn't you have to send off a couple of chapters to Black Pawn?" Kate queries.

"Finished and sent off yesterday while you were digging through court documents. As an author, I'm free as a bird – until I get the revision requests. But I am expecting a call from Daniel Lucerne. He's been putting together a list of venues that correspond with your wishes and the tentative size of our guest list. He wants to go over where they are and what they'll cost. I got the feeling my titanium card might let out a yelp or two."

Kate sighs, shaking her head. "Castle, I'm not trying to impress anyone. I just want a day to remember with joy – and for our guests to have a great time."

Richard plants a kiss on her forehead and reaches for his robe. "I know that, Kate. I'll make sure Daniel does, too. But if we're going to sleuth our way through those papers, I'd best make us a hearty breakfast."

Jack slices oranges and jams the halves onto a manual juicer, trying to get enough fruit squeezed to give Martha her morning lift when she wakes up. After her performance last night in front of a loudly appreciative audience, they had dinner with most of the cast. The stories of clueless critics and artfully adlibbed lines stretched well into the early morning hours. They finally made it to bed around three am. Martha had quickly fallen asleep and was still in dreamland. Jack, however, had stared wide awake into the dark, trying to figure out how he would tell the truth to his wife and his future daughter-in-law. Finally, he had given up altogether on trying to sleep. He buried himself in the fantasy of a James Bond novel. Somehow, half the world, including Britain's adversaries, had known who and what Bond was. It hadn't seemed to matter. Unfortunately, the real world doesn't work that way. Eventually, Jack put down his book to devote himself to the production of his wife's natural shot of vitamin C.

Martha's bare feet pad into the kitchen. Wrapping her arms around Jack from behind, she lays her head against his broad back. "For a second, when I woke up and you weren't there, I thought you'd left again."

Jack turns, taking his wife into his arms. "I told you that I'll never do that again. I have no reason to do it again. That part of my life is gone forever."

"And what part of your life was that, Jack? Will you ever be able to tell me that?"

"I finally did what I had to do so that I can tell you. I can tell you right now. Martha, I was an intelligence asset."

"An intelligence asset," Martha repeats. "Is that some kind of a spy?"

"Something like that. I worked for Uncle Sam. Sometimes, that was dangerous. The day after we – we made Richard – was one of those times. I had to get out of the country fast, or I wouldn't have made it at all. By the time I came back, you were already in the maternity ward. I looked at the board. I heard the nurses talking. I knew what you believed you had to do. I couldn't let Richard go into the system. So I used the connections I had to stop it, to raise him myself. I stepped away from my former life as much as I could. But there were parts of it that wouldn't let me go. I've finally dealt with all that. It's done. It's finished. I'm not going anywhere again unless I have you with me."

"And Richard? Does he know?"

"He found out the hard way. He got caught up in something I thought I'd left behind. What happened at Madison Square Garden, the way he met Kate, were part of that hangover from my old life. But that's all taken care of now, too. He's in no more danger. I made sure of it."

"And how about Katherine? What does she know?"

"She's guessed some things. She's too much of a detective not to. But she doesn't know anything for sure. Richard knows he has to keep what he learned to himself until I tell him otherwise. I'm going to do that very soon and tell Kate the truth myself. But as soon as I was in the clear, I wanted to tell you first. I wasn't sure how, but you just gave me the opening. So, I jumped at using it."

Martha leans in against Jack's solid body. "I'm glad you did."

Jack tucks her head beneath his chin. "So am I."

"Good, then you can finish juicing those oranges."

A grin captures Jack's face, and he salutes his new commander. "Yes, Ma'am."

"I think I found something, Beckett," Richard says, gazing at a handwritten note. "Your mother was using one of her personal abbreviations, B/Jo/son. I'll bet that's Bert Josephson."

"You could be right, Castle. What does she say about him?" Kate asks.

Richard hands the note to his fiancée. "Here, take a look for yourself."

"Mom had to be pretty pissed off to use this kind of language. I almost never heard it. 'Looks like #$% Bracken framed someone else, and this time it's no family enforcer,' Kate reads aloud. "The enforcer she means must be Joe Pulgatti," Kate realizes before starting to read again. "'B/Jo/son was the straightest shooting prosecutor I ever met. There's no way he took a bribe from anyone, especially not that #$#$%& Simmons. Somewhere, there's got to be a hole in the case against him. It's probably one of the dealers who walked, and Bracken used as a witness against B/Jo/son. Bracken must have threatened prison or something worse if he didn't get what he wanted. I'll need to check the court transcripts against the list of dealers whom Bracken streeted. Maybe that witness needs a friend.' That's all of it." Kate announces. "But this is dated two days before she died. She probably never got the chance to talk to that dealer."

"But maybe you'll have one," Richard says, "if you can find him."

Kate presses her fingertips against her bottom lip. "If he's still alive, I will."