724. Chapter 724

After The Way of the Ninja

Episode 6.18

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: You will see that I have carefully disguised the fact that I don't own Castle. Rating: K Time: See above.

Author's note: In Chapter 557 we got a bit of Ninja Heat, By Richard Castle. Perhaps he would have written more.

"Rook, you know that there are no such thing as ninjas. They're a myth. Therefore, our killer is not a ninja."

"I beg to differ with you." Rook said, smiling at his wife. "What do you get if you train a boy from an early age to be an expert in hand to hand combat, and in all manner of weapons, as well as a master of concealment and camouflage, and have an astounding powers of strength and endurance?"

Nikki sighed, fearing she'd walked into a trap. "A ninja?" She admitted.

"Or a nineteenth century Apache warrior. Apaches were masters of camouflage. Apache scouts working for the US Army showed soldiers that they could camouflage themselves so well that they could get close enough to kill an enemy with a knife without the enemy seeing then until too late. And over rough terrain, an Apache could outdistance a horse and do so all day."

"So we should be asking for Custer and the Seventh Cavalry?" Detective Ochoa asked, smirking.

"Custer is so not available." Nikki said.

"And you don't have to go that far back in history. In the sixties, Viet Cong sappers could infiltrate US bases in Vietnam, getting through thickets of razor wire, trip flares, mines and sentries with, admittedly, first generation night vision devices, and wreak havoc. And they were Asian."

"So what we need is Colonel Kilgore and the First of the Ninth from Apocalypse Now?" Detective Raley teased.

"VC sappers would be in their sixties and probably not interested in coming to the US and killing off the occasional drug dealer." Rook said. "But there are a lot of people who might be available."

"Such as?" Nikki asked, deciding that there just might be appoint to Rook's story.

"Modern day special operations forces: US Army Special Forces, Navy SEALS, British SAS and SBS, Israeli Sayeret Matkal and similar units, Russian Spetsnaz and the Alpha Group, plus a lot of less well known groups would be capable of operating like the ninjas of ancient Japan. These people spend years training, remember? First as regular soldiers, then they go through special forces training and then they go downrange, for years at a time. Just like the ancient ninjas in Japan. And with the wind down of the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, some of the guys are available. All it takes is one or two."

Nikki was afraid that Rook might have a point. "Do you have any idea how hard it's going to be to go to the various US special ops units and ask if any of their former members have decided to go to New York and kill off drug dealers? Not to mention other countries? I can't imagine the Russians will be too cooperative."

"We could look through the want ads in Soldier of Fortune magazine." Ochoa suggested with a laugh. "They have a lot of weirdos looking for a mission."

"Get started, then." Nikki said.

"Really? Isn't going through the media Raley's job?"

"He isn't a battle hardened veteran. He might miss something you'd catch." Nikki said with a grin.

Ochoa stood and saluted. "Yes, ma'am."

She turned to Rook. "Do you know anyone in the Pentagon we could ask?"

"No, but I know a guy. In fact, I know two guys. One is the real deal. He's worked overseas for private military companies and the other one is a poser. He's never been any closer to the military than a Fourth of July parade, but he has a good line of BS about being an ex-Green Beret. I'll talk to them."

"I'll go too."

He shook his head. "Neither one will talk to cops."

Nikki undid two buttons on her blouse. "Why, lover. Who's going to know I'm a cop?"

Mike's was an upscale sports bar in midtown Manhattan. Nikki thought it was an odd place for ex-military types to congregate while looking for work overseas.

Rook explained. "Not at all. Most of the clientele are rich lawyers, doctors and stockbrokers. The most dangerous thing most of them have ever done is do 65 in a 55 mph zone. Hanging around with real bad asses makes them feel like maybe they could be bad asses, too."

They walked in the back and sat down in a booth across from a man.

"Buy you a beer, Johnny?" Rook asked.

Johnny looked to be in his mid thirties, clean shaven and with short hair. His short sleeves showed him to have very muscular arms. His eyes were light blue and wary. Then he nodded.

"Sure. Good to see you again, Rook. And Captain Heat. Or do you go by Mrs. Rook?"

Nikki blushed. "How did you make me as a cop?"

Johnny smiled. "I'm a big fan of your husband's work. I read all about your wedding in the paper. So what do you need?"

"We have a shooter dropping drug dealers. He might have had some training. He uses a .22 rifle with a suppressor and shoots hollow point loads. He likes to set sniper hides in big trashcans, piles of garbage or dumpsters. He knows his victim's habits, knows were surveillance cameras are. Sound like anyone you know?"

Johnny thought. "We're pretty careful about who we let in here. We check out everyone really closely to make sure they really were in combat and not POGS."

"POGS?" Nikki asked.

"People other than grunts, ma'am."

"So, no one?" Rook asked.

"Maybe one. Name's Mikhail and he's Serbian. Said he was a sniper in Sarajevo during that war, but he's too young. Said he's fought more recently in Ukraine with Russian separatists. He lives over a bar called the Bright Red in the village. I think he's a phony, but he could be good enough to drop a guy from up close."

A few phone calls got an address for Mikhail and an ESU team to meet Nikki and Rook at his address. When they found Mikhail he was very drunk. There was nothing in his apartment to tie him to any of the shootings, and when he sobered up he was able to give alibis that checked out. All bartenders who swore that Mikhail was in their bar and too drunk to shoot anything at the times of the killings.

"We should try your other guy." Nikki said after a sober Mikhail left the 20th Precinct.

Curly's was a neighborhood bar. Not a really nice place and not a dump, just a neighborhood bar. Todd was sitting in the back where he could see both doors through his mirrored shades. He had his long legs out in the aisle. Nikki took in the cowboy boots, tight Levis and a tee shirt that said, "America Isn't at War. America is at the mall. The Special Forces are at War."

"Hello, Todd." Rook said as he sat.

"Uh, hi, Rook."

While Todd was trying to make further conversation, Nikki reached behind Todd and pulled a .32 caliber Beretta from his waistband. "You have a permit for this?"

Todd glowered at Nikki. "I'm ex-Special Forces. I'm wanted by the Islamic State and I have to…"

"Todd, don't tell lies to the nice lady cop." Rook said cheerfully. "We both know you were never in the military and the Islamic State wouldn't take you as a gift. Do you have a permit for the gun?"

"No." He muttered.

"So here's the deal. "Nikki said. "I'll confiscate your weapon, but I won't arrest you. In return, you'll answer all of our questions. Okay?"

Todd nodded. "Okay. I can get another one, you know."

"And I can send an officer in here every day to bust you for having one." Nikki shot back

"And I can write a nice piece about phony war heroes. Know anyone that might fit?"

Rook and Nikki explained who they were looking for. Surprisingly, Todd began nodding.

"I know they guy. Always comes in here talking about how much he hates drug dealers. His mom and his sister got screwed up on drugs. The sister's dead and the mom's in prison. And he always is talking about how the .22 is a perfect urban sniping weapon. It doesn't make much noise so with a suppressor it's as quiet as you can get, plus it's small and easy to conceal."

"Is he ex-military?" Nikki asked.

"Couldn't get in. He's almost blind in one eye. Perfect vision in the other, though."

"How did he learn about sniping?" Rook asked.

"Books. His whole damned apartment is full of them. US, British, Canadian, Australian, South African, and he's even got some books in foreign languages that he can't even read. I guess he looks at the pictures. "

"You've been to his apartment? You know where he lives?" Nikki asked.

"Sure."

The arrest was anticlimactic. Joseph Donaldson walked out of his apartment on the way to work and right into the arms of a dozen cops. The gun he used was in his apartment along with notebooks covering his victims' daily routines. He confessed.

Rook, Nikki, Raley and Ochoa stopped after work to have a beer at a cop bar.

"What a disappointment." Rook said. "I was hoping for some ex-military cold blooded killer loosed on the world by some uncaring government, or some highly trained and fanatical terrorist, and all we get is some angry kid who can read."

"Oh, who knows, Rook? You may yet get to meet someone like that."

Nikki would remember saying that.

Another author's note: According to Amazon, the next Nikki Heat will have Rook targeted by the Islamic State.