388. Chapter 388

After Recoil

Episode 5.13

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I would recoil from calling Castle my own. Rating: T Time: See above.

Senator Brack Willmen had one thing to do before taking the oath of office as President of the United States and he intended to take his time. A sobbing Detective Nikki Heat had been dragged into his private office. His very private office. Usually, he had others do this sort of work for him, but this he wanted to do himself.

As Heat struggled to her feet, Willmen punched her in the face, hearing the satisfying sound of her nose breaking. "That'll leave a nasty scar, bitch!" The Senator said coldly. "A little taste of what I'm going to do to you."

"Please, sir. Don't hurt me. I'll do anything you want." She whined.

Willmen laughed. "No, bitch. I can do anything I want to you." He slammed his fist into her stomach and watched with joy as she doubled over and fell to her knees.

President-Elect Willmen lifted the woman onto a steel table and tied her spread eagled. Then he began cutting away her clothing. "First I'm going to use you like the cheap slut you are, Heat. And then I'm going to use this knife to make sure that no man who ever looks at you again will ever be the least bit interested in you. And then, I have friends in Africa who have a nice prison where they keep trouble makers like you. I hear some people last for as long as two or three years.

"Please, I'm begging you, I'll do…."

The notebook he'd been writing in was suddenly slapped out of Prisoner William Bracken's hands. Bracken found himself looking into the angry eyes of Tom Ford, the head of the feared white prison gang. "Fatso, you've got no time to be writing your little porno books. My old lady called me. Guess what? Your monthly payment was four hundred dollars short. Four hundred dollars, asshole. Now me and the brothers have been keeping your sorry ass alive in here because you made it worth our while. But, if it's not worth our while…." Ford gestured across the exercise yard to where a small knot of men were standing, looking intently at Bracken. Bracken knew them to be members of one of New York's Five Families, hardened killers who'd kill him without a moment's thought if Joseph Pulgatti gave the word.

"I'll call my wife. I'm sure it's just some kind of mistake. You'll get your four hundred dollars. I promise."

Ford slapped him across the face. "We'll get our eight hundred dollars, understand. And if you're short on our money again, we'll let the Mob over there know that they can break your face for starters. They'd really like to put the hurt on you. And they'll pay for the privilege."

Bracken picked up his notebook as Ford and his thugs walked off, the prisoners making way for him as he went back to his usual spot in the yard. He looked down at the story he had been writing. This is humiliating. It's bad enough to have to pay someone like that dim witted gangster to keep me in one piece. He's the sort of person I wanted to protect people like my old friend Omar Doakes from. He's nothing but an over muscled bully. He couldn't do the things that I could have done. Why did it all go wrong? I should have been more ruthless. Much more ruthless. I'll get this straightened out and soon I'll own Ford and his gang of morons. I know my people on the outside are moving heaven and earth to get me out of here and back where I belong. He carefully brushed some dirt off of the notebook he'd been writing in. And when I'm out, I'll tie up some loose ends.

Later, Bracken finally got his turn at one of the prison phones. This is scandalous! That a man like me should have to wait for some drug dealers and car thieves to get through before using the phones. His internal tirade was interrupted by the voice of his wife saying that she'd accept the charges for the call.

"Sheila! What the hell is going on out there? The payment was four hundred dollars short? Do you have any idea what kind of a position that puts me in?"

Sheila Bracken began to cry. "I did the best I could. I had to sell my grandma's ring to raise that much. I'm running out of things to sell, Bill."

"Then sell the damned house." Why did I ever marry that stupid bitch? He asked himself. He provided himself with the answer. Because a smart bitch could have been a danger to me.

"I can't. Your former lawyers have put a lien on it until we can pay their bills. And before you ask, the house in Aspen was seized by the courts because of the thing with Orantis Solutions. And that wonderful place we had on the Georgia Sea Islands, the one with…"

"Yes, yes. I know about that." Bracken snapped. He tried to think of what to do. "Okay. Call George Sims. He owes me from before. He can loan me enough to get through the next couple of months at least, I know he'll…"

"I called him weeks ago. He wouldn't accept my calls." Sheila Bracken cut him off. "I even got a call from his lawyers telling me not to call or they'd get some kind of order."

"Damn!" He wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot. "Okay. Then call Mike Stearns…"

"I called him. He won't help." Sheila Bracken then listed all of the people she'd called who had declined to help. It was everyone that Bracken had hoped to ask for help.

He had one shot left. "Okay, Sheila. I'm not done yet." He lowered his voice. "Now listen carefully and write this down. There's a bank in San Antonio, Texas. I have a safety deposit box under another name. The box has bank account numbers and passwords. Here's what you need to do…"

Two blocks from the Bracken house a man in the back of a non-descript van smiled as he listened to the phone call. "Got it." He whispered to his partner, showing him the details he'd written down. The partner picked up a cell phone. "We got it. We'll need a woman to go to San Antonio, Texas, ASAP. Details as follows…"

TiRee Broadstreet looked the white boy who was walking towards him. One of his people stopped the whitey and exchanged whispered words. He let him through.

"Mr. Broadstreet, thank you for seeing me."

TiRee smiled. "I like a nice, polite young man. What can I do for you?"

"I'm in here because I was given a choice. A bullet in the back of my head, or keep my mouth closed, do ten years inside and get five million dollars when I got out."

TiRee nodded. "I know your story, Norris. Not many secrets in the joint."

"Then you know I'm not going to get my five million dollars."

"Not a chance. Not a chance in hell."

"So I have another offer from the outside. I need a shank and people not to see anything. Someone should have contacted you?"

TiRee laughed. "They did and I do think that can be arranged."

The prison guard thumbed through the notebook that had been taken from Bracken's cell. "Who'd have thought that he'd be into writing porno fanfiction?"

The prison coroner shrugged. "Stay here long enough and nothing surprises you."

"How long?"

"For most people, about a week." They both laughed. The coroner checked the notebook. "Better toss that. The family will freak if we send it with the rest of his affects."

Richard Castle met with a man he considered a financial adviser for want of a better word. "Everything work out?" He asked.

The man, standing by him in the park, not close enough to look like they were together, but close enough to talk, nodded. "I do like the irony of it. Used his own money to pay for his hit? I do like your sense of humor, Mr. Castle."

"And nothing gets traced to anyone involved?"

The man laughed. "I've been doing this for years, I know how to do this. No one except me knows more than one player and none of the players know me in person. I was just a voice on the phone. And since you've generously declined to take a cut of the profits, nothing can ever trace back to you." The man checked his watch. "I must be off. Have a good day, Mr. Castle." He walked away.

Richard Castle watched the man disappear into the park. Then he turned and headed for lunch with his wife, happily whistling as he walked.