638. Chapter 638

After Close Encounters of the Murderous Kind

Episode 3.09

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: I have no memory of owning Castle. Rating: K Time: See above.

"Good afternoon, Detective Beckett."

Kate Beckett kept walking down the street, ignoring the Federal Agent who was now walking beside her.

"And how are you today?"

"Fine, Agent Westfield. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." She began walking faster, but two men in dark suits and sunglasses got out of a large, black SUV with tinted windows and blocked her path. She turned on Westfield. "What do you want?"

"We need to talk. About Mr. Castle."

"I'd like an attorney present. I remember your interrogation techniques."

"That's not possible, Detective Beckett. I would suggest you go with me voluntarily. If you don't, I suspect that both you and Mr. Castle will find yourselves in some difficulty."

"What? Rendition to some friendly third world country where the secret police will interrogate us?"

Westfield smiled. "You said it, not me."

"Where's Castle?"

"He's in custody already."

"Take me to him." One of the men opened the back door of the SUV. Beckett got in, followed by Westfield. Once the vehicle was in motion, Westfield began talking.

"We were very clear when last we met that none of what happened in that case could ever be made public. A number of…capabilities were used in that case that we don't want our enemies to know about. However, there has been chatter recently about the Vaughn/Ung Kyu case, and some of the chatter has…speculated about things that are too close to the truth for comfort."

"I haven't said a word to anyone about that." Beckett snapped at him.

Westfield nodded. "We don't believe you have. We've checked, and you really don't have the…qualifications to do that. Mr. Castle is another story, however."

"Castle! That's absurd. Castle would never talk about what happened. Besides, he's just a novelist."

Westfield laughed. "Just a novelist who solves murders with the NYPD. Just a novelist who has a most unusual, large and varied assortment of friends and associates. A novelist who can afford to buy some extremely advanced equipment, for research, or so he says."

"What are you doing to Castle?" Kate demanded.

Westfield held up a black cloth bag. "I'm afraid you'll have to put this on Detective."

When the bag came off, Kate found herself in a small, windowless room with Westfield. In front of her was a TV monitor. She was watching Castle. He was strapped to a bulky chair and was hooked up to what she could see was a polygraph. Someone out of camera range was speaking.

"Mr. Castle, what is your relationship with George Keith?"

"He's a friend. I met him when I was doing research."

"Oh? What kind of research were you doing?"

"On codes and cyphers. George worked for the FBI, but he's now retired. He's very good."

"And why did you call him a week ago?"

"He wanted some Yankees tickets for his grandson who's visiting. I know a guy."

"Yes, you know a lot of guys, Mr. Castle."

"Christ, what is this about? Let me out of here, dammit. I'm friends with Chris Carter, you know."

"Tell me about Jackson Hunt."

"Who?"

"Jackson Hunt, Mr. Castle. Certainly you aren't going to deny knowing him."

"I've never heard of him. Please, I told you, I've never told anyone about that happened."

"And I suppose you're going to tell me you've never heard of Anderson Cross, either?" The man said sarcastically.

"Never."

"Really, Mr. Castle. It would be so much easier for all of us if you just told us the truth."

"I am telling you the truth." Castle said, his voice rising.

Beckett turned on Westfield. "This is going to stop right now. I want Castle released and we are getting out of here. Do you understand me?" She reached for her Glock, only to find her holster was empty.

"We disarmed you, Detective Beckett." Westfield said calmly. "And we're really not doing anything to Castle beyond interrogating him. I'd say we're doing nothing worse than things you and the NYPD do every day." Beckett glared at him, which made Westfield smile. "However, we are about to increase his level of anxiety."

Kate looked back at the screen. "Tell me about Detective Kate Beckett, Mr. Castle."

"What? Beckett would never do anything that might endanger this country or aid our enemies. Never."

"However, we do have to check on her. We've brought her here, Mr. Castle. She's being interrogated just the same as you are." There was a brief pause." Well, not the same as you are."

"What do you mean? What're you doing to Beckett? Tell me, damn you!"

"You're a famous novelist, Mr. Castle. You're wealthy and have powerful friends. We have to be more circumspect with you. But, Beckett is a no one. If something were to happen to her…."

"The hell she's a no one. You think you can hurt her and get away with it? Then you have no idea just how I'll use my wealth and friends on you if you've done anything to her."

Westfield smiled. "Good. He seems to be quite taken with you, Detective Beckett. That's good."

"You cold blooded son of a bitch."

"Yes, I am, and there's nothing you can do about it. Mr. Castle is upset, but he hasn't been physically hurt, nor have you."

The other man was speaking in a low tone to Castle. "It's a shame. Detective Beckett is such a lovely woman. It's a shame you don't care about her. And she has such long, graceful fingers, too. Not that you care."

"The hell I don't care. I care more about Beckett than anyone else. She's everything to me."

Kate was shocked at his words. Westfield wasn't.

"You seem surprised, Detective. Surely you knew Castle is in love with you?"

Kate found herself unable to say a word. Of course he's in love with me. Everything he's done in the past year tells me he is. But it's a shock to hear Castle talk like that about me. I can't pretend he doesn't love me any more. She looked back at the TV Screen.

"We'll make you a deal, Mr. Castle. Just confess and we'll release both you and Detective Beckett with no further harm to her. I'm sure she'll be fine."

"I can't confess. I have nothing to confess to."

"That's a shame, and she had such lovely eyes, too."

Kate could see that Castle was crying. "I'll do anything, just don't hurt Beckett. Please, don't hurt her. I love her. I'll sign anything you want. I'll say anything you want. Anything. Please. Please."

The man unstrapped one of Castle's hands and handed him a pen and a yellow legal pad. "Begin with your full name and address."

Castle began writing and Westfield turned the TV off.

"That confession is worthless. He doesn't even know what he's confessing to, you bastard." Kate said coldly.

"True. The confession is almost valueless, but we're positive now that Mr. Castle didn't leak any information. Not after the way he fell apart over you as he did. But, the confession serves another purpose. Should you try to bring this to the attention of the NYPD, or anyone else, we'll release the confession. Mr. Castle is confessing to being a paid agent for the Chinese. How do you think that'll effect his writing career? Or his position with the NYPD? I think you'll agree it's best to keep this quiet."

Kate felt the sting of the hypodermic needle and swung at Westfield. Before she blacked out, she saw blood spurt from his nose.

She woke up in her car in a parking garage in Manhattan. She was resting her head on something soft. "Castle! Castle, are you okay?" She turned around to see her partner starting to open his eyes.

"Beckett? You're okay?" He grabbed her hands and checked them. "Your hands, your eyes…You're okay."

"They didn't do anything to me, they just told you that to get you to sign that confession."

Castle frowned. "How do you know what happened?"

Kate took his hand in hers. "Westfield made me watch it on TV."

"You saw…everything?"

"Everything." She admitted.

"Oh, crap." Castle said, looking at her with fear in his eyes.

She leaned over and kissed him. "Babe, we really need to talk."