528. Chapter 528

After Recoil

Episode 5.13

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, and I don't own Castle. Rating: K Time: See above and below.

Author's note: Yes, this obviously takes place before and after Recoil. So?

He watched the man and the woman through his binoculars. He saw the woman lean in and whisper something in his ear, then walk away. The man just stood there. "Well the damned fool is just letting her walk away. After all the dumb-ass bimbos he's had in his life, he wasn't able to see just what she is."

His companion nodded as he watched through his own binoculars. "You want me to follow that one?"

"Would it be a problem, Raul?"

Raul laughed. "I'm retired, not dead. But why him? He's obviously not Agency, and obviously a civilian, and you want this done off the books. So why? I need to know. You know I need to know."

"This one's personal. I owe his mom a favor, so I keep an eye on him when I'm in New York. But, I'll be out of touch for a good long time. And he is just a civilian and he won't get into any kind of trouble, so all you need to do is check on him every once in a while."

Raul shrugged. "Sure, Jack. Anything you say."

The next day he got a call from Raul. They met in Central Park.

"He may be in more trouble than you think, Jack. He was with that detective today. The looker? So I got close to one of the cops, you know, nosy old man with nothing better to do that ask a bunch of stupid questions at a crime scene. Turns out he's decided to shadow the detective to write some kind of a book. He's a mystery novelist. Did you know that?"

He nodded. "I knew. But he'll only be with her for short time. Just long enough for some background. Stay on him until he stops playing cop. Keep me informed. The usual way."

"Anything you say, Jack."

Berlin was nothing like what it had been back in the Cold War, and oddly enough, he still had some pleasurable memories from those times. He'd sat in the same café waiting for the Russian KGB colonel to walk in with a computer full of secret documents as crowds of East Germans poured across what had once been a wall. The information he got this time was not nearly as pleasing. "He got shot at by some Nigerian thug and beaten up by a jewel thief? What the hell is he doing? Trying to get his fool self killed?"

The German shrugged. "According to Raul, the man Castle is the unofficial partner of this Detective Beckett. He works with her, just like he was a cop himself. And he's not bad, or so Raul's contacts say."

"I want Raul to find out all he can about this Beckett. And I don't want anyone to know that anyone's interested in her. Understand?"

The German was slightly offended, but smiled broadly. "Herr Cross, please. Raul and his people are very, very good. No one will know of this."

"They'd better not."

The man in the camouflage desert fatigues sat down across from him. "I bloody well hate Arabia. Too bloody hot."

"We're in Yemen."

"Still fookin' Arabia and still too fookin' hot. Got news for you from New York, though."

The news wasn't good.

"He's all right? You're sure?"

"Raul said the sheila shot the hit man right through the heart. Dropped like a fookin' stone. Your man didn't even shit himself."

"And no one knows anything more about this Coonan?" He demanded.

"Part of your mob, mate. Then went into business for himself. No idea who he worked for."

The girls in northern Beirut were all dressed in their summer finery, happily ignoring the wars that went on all around them. The heavily armed Christian militias with checkpoints at every intersection did give everyone a sense of security, he thought. One girl even flirted with him, smiling and winking at him. He smiled and shook his head. She pouted and then went after a boy her own age.

"Sir?" Said a younger voice at his elbow.

"No, dammit, not sir. We're just two Americans meeting for a drink and a nice view of the Mediterranean. And the girls. Sit down, you're attracting attention."

The young man sat. "Detective Kate Beckett was shot yesterday, si… He blushed slightly, "She was shot, but she's out of danger."

"And the man?"

"He tried to push her out of the way, but he wasn't hurt." He quickly gave him all the information Raul had passed on.

The old man shook his head. "Anyone who can disappear like that with a crowd of cops around is a damned professional and a good one. I need to call Raul. I'll make my own way to the Embassy." He got up and left.

Raul was no help.

Viewed from the sea, the ship was just another of the small, rusty tramp freighters that sailed around the east coast of Africa. Had anyone gotten a look inside, they would have found something much different.

Two men, dressed in baggy pants and shirts stood by the rail, talking.

"Good news and bad news." Said the younger man.

"Give me the good news first. I could use some. The Horn of Africa is going to hell in a handbasket and all I can do about it is sit out here and eavesdrop on their conversations."

"The good news is that your son and Detective Beckett are together."

"You're sure? After all this time I was beginning to think he was too stupid to see what was right in front of him."

"We know that they go to each other's apartments and stay the night. Raul's people have seen them kiss when they think no one is watching. Apparently the Precinct Captain has no use for him and would use a relationship between them to get rid of him."

"Can we lean on her if we have to?"

The younger man smiled. "He plays poker with the mayor. He can handle himself, and since this is off the books, I don't see how we could move on this Captain Gates."

"Okay. What's the bad news?"

"The two of them are sure that the man behind Johanna Beckett's murder and Detective Beckett's shooting is Senator William Bracken."

"Jee-sus Christ! They sure can pick their enemies." The older man thought for a second. "She can't have anything solid on him or she'd have moved on him by now. Tell Raul I need anything and everything I can get on Bracken. Try to find one of his pet killers and grab him if you can. I know a Kurdish colonel in northern Iraq that can make anyone talk. And he just so happens to owe me a favor."

Washington DC was hot and humid, but his office was not only air conditioned, but as spy proof as the CIA could make it. Still, he hated it. He was a field man, not a desk jockey. But at last he was happy. "Elena Markov? What do we have on her?"

"Ex-FSB, the successor to the old Soviet KGB, but apparently our Russian pals still haven't learned about feminism. Some colonel suggested to her that if she didn't sleep with him, she'd end up in Chechnya with no weapon. Apparently his idea of a good time is to beat the crap out of his girlfriends. Next thing anyone knows, she's disappeared."

"How hard did we have to lean on her?"

The other man smiled. "Not at all. She's smart enough to figure out that Bracken needs Simmons more than he needs her. Once Simmons figured out that she killed Harden, he'd go ballistic and blowback on Bracken. But if Bracken has Markov killed, then she's just a rogue who Bracken punished and all is well with Simmons. She's telling us everything she knows about Bracken. Mostly the wet work stuff, but she knows a little bit about his finances and such."

"Can we get this to Beckett without blowing our cover?"

"Indirectly, yes. There's a man, Marks is his name, in Bracken's organization. He's getting nervous."

He watched the man and the woman through his binoculars. He saw the woman lean in and whisper something in his ear, then they walked away together.

He put down his binoculars and smiled.