547. Chapter 547

After Murder Is Forever.

Episode 6.08

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: Not owning Castle is forever. At least for me. Rating: K Time: See above.

African Heat

By

Richard Castle

As soon as they exited the plane in Goma, the heat hit them. It was like walking into a sauna, but without the blonde, busty Swedish babe to stroke your bare body with birch branches. "Welcome to the Democratic Republic of Congo." Ace newsman Jameson Rook muttered under his breath. Of course, Rook had been in Congo before. He had been in all of the hot spots around the world. That was why he was a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist.

"Hold up a minute, Rook." Rook turned to look at the love of his life, NYPD Captain Nikki Heat. He smiled as he saw how her sweat soaked dress clung to her curves. He thrilled at the sight of her perky boobs and the way her taut nipples poked the thin material of her dress. He knew that her perfect ass was also clearly outlined as well. Mainly he knew this from the cheering crowds of males who were watching her walk away from them.

"Are you okay, Nikki?" He asked solicitously.

"It's just so hot and humid here." She panted.

Rook, whose iron constitution was quite capable of handling the tropical heat of Africa and the Heat of New York, gallantly picked Nikki up and carried her to the air conditioned terminal.

Rook and Heat were in Africa on a mission. A series of killings in Manhattan had been linked to the infamous organization, TOOTH: The Organization Organized To Hate. Rook knew that deep in Congo was the group's leader in Africa, who was supporting TOOTH's merciless agenda by providing them with blood diamonds. Yes, somewhere out there in the jungle, Thomas d'Schlemming, the infamous Swiss mercenary was even now murdering his way to more wealth and power. Rook was determined to stop him. With the help of Nikki, of course. "Fools!" Rook muttered. "The Swiss sit in their mountain fastness convincing everyone that they're nothing but bankers and chocolate makers. The Gnomes of Zurich indeed. But one day, when we least expect it, they pour out of those mountains and then where will we be?"

"Mr. Rook?"

Rook turned to see who it was. "Who are you?"

"Dr. Joshua Harley, with Doctors Without Golf Clubs, a charitable organization. I heard you were looking for Thomas d'Schlemming. I can help you find him."

Rook looked the doctor over carefully. He recognized the man as a motorhead at once. From the dilated pupils, Rook was sure he was mainlining WD40. "Where is he?"

"We need to go up the Congo River. We need to see Mr. Kurtz. There's a boat leaving soon. It's carrying pork lips."

"Pork lips?" Rook asked.

"He wants pork lips now."

"And?" Rook said coldly.

Even in the tropical heat, Harley shivered. "He can tell you where d'Schlemming is."

In half an hour, Rook and Nikki were on the boat heading up river with Captain Dullard, the boat's skipper, and Harley. Nikki took the opportunity to break out her bikini and get a tan. Harley took the opportunity to sit in the bow and cry, looking back at Nikki's perfect body every once in a while.

At last, after many adventures and a bit of surfing, they reached Kurtz's compound. Kurtz was there with his own private army, as scurvy a collection of cutthroats and renegades as Rook had ever seen, this side of the Oakland Raider's fans. Kurtz sat on the dock, humming an old Otis Redding song, waiting for his visitors. Rook and Heat stepped onto the dock and introduced themselves.

"If I may ask, why are you here, Mr. Kurtz?' Rook asked politely, but with an undertone of steel in his voice.

"When I left my home and my family I was no more than a boy, in the company of strangers, in the quiet of the railway station, running scared, laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters where the ragged people go, looking for the places only they would know."

Rook looked around at Kurtz and his men. "You certainly found the ragged people. But there's more to your story, isn't there?" Rook said, narrowing his eyes.

Kurtz gulped. How could this American journalist know all of this? "I'm just a poor boy and nobody loves me.I need no sympathy because I'm easy come, easy go, a little high, little low, anyway the wind blows, doesn't really matter to me, to me.Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me." Kurtz confessed.

"Of course he does." Rook said gently. "Now tell me why?"

Kurtz began to cry. "I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die. When I hear that whistle blowin', I hang my head and cry."

"And where can I find d'Schlemming?"

"Over the Mountains of the Moon, down the Valley of the Shadow. Ride, boldly ride."

Rook smiled. "Of course. His lair is on Mount Kilimanjaro." Rook thought back to the last time he was there. "Kilimanjaro is a big mountain, 19,410 feet high, and that's not counting the all the damned cell phone towers. Some suit in New York made them look like totem poles. The fool. The summit, marked by a single welcome mat, is called "Mum'bley Bum'bley," in the Masai language. It means, "It's a mountain, honky. Deal with it." Close to the summit are the frozen remains of an Impala. No one has explained why anybody would try to drive a Chevy up the mountain."

"Can we do some skiing there?" Nikki asked.

"Of course, Nikki. You know I'll do anything for you." Rook quickly added, "Except for the thing with the trapeze, the two penguins, the snowshoes, the Coke and the Mentos, and the moat filled with chocolate sauce."

"That sounds interesting." Harley said.

"Find your own girl." Nikki and Rook said in unison, cutely.

Rook quickly organized a safari and they began traversing the endless veldt until Mount Kilimanjaro was in sight. Rook decided to camp before heading to his confrontation with d'Schlemming. Having packed only the barest necessities, Rook leaned back in his inflatable camp chair, sipping a glass of chilled Sancerre while Nikki took a shower in their portable bathroom.

"Rook, "She called, "can you ask the chef if there's any more of the lobster? The live ones, I mean?"

Rook glanced at the chef who began crying. He hated to disappoint Nikki or Rook.

"I'm afraid not, lover."

"Have they set up the satellite TV yet? It's Monday night in the US and it's almost time for my favorite show."

"Do you mean Dancing with People You Once Watched on TV When You Were Little?"

"No, the one after that. The funny cop show."

Rook checked his watch. "It'll be on soon." Rook couldn't imagine why she liked that show so much. But he'd indulge the love of his life.

The next morning Rook and Nikki headed for Mount Kilimanjaro. Rook took the Mannlicher rifle. It was good. D'Schlemming would die well. In the rain.

Halfway up the mountain, they were suddenly confronted with by a savage, hungry lion. The lion growled and advanced on them. From a distance, Rook could hear d'Schlemming's mocking voice. "At last I have you where I want you, Mr. Rook. My attack lion will soon kill you and your girlfriend."

Facing the lion, Rook laughed in the face of danger. (Do not try this at home. These are trained professional laughers.) "I'm afraid you're wrong, d'Schlemming. I recognize the lion. He's my friend, Linus. I once helped him through a rough spot with his wife with the help of a book I ghost wrote for a young lady. He owes me. Don't you, Linus?"

Linus gave Rook a high five.

"Sic' em, Linus."

Linus turned and ran after d'Schelmming. There was a heart rending, high pitched scream and d'Schlemming came down the mountain clutching his private parts. They were in Linus' mouth, however.

Kate Beckett put her fiancé's laptop down. "That's your idea for a story memorializing Linus? All Nikki does is look gorgeous and sexy. She has a brain you know."

Castle nodded. "The sexiest brain on the planet. A perfectly round, firm, delicious….brain."

She rolled her eyes. "I can't see it. It just doesn't work for me."

"Do you think you can do better?" Rick challenged.

"Not here." Kate headed for the bedroom, shedding her clothing as she did. "Coming, Castle?'

"Not yet." He mumbled, quickly following her.