by Juno Rushdan
“The future. You. Knox. What’s it all for if not the future?”
Tears welled in Castle’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”
For once in his life, why couldn’t his aim have been less true, missed the mark?
“I’m glad it was you, son.” Sanborn clasped Castle’s wrist and squeezed. Affection filled his eyes.
Castle held him tighter, longing to rewind the last few seconds.
“Do something for me. Blame Khan. Don’t…don’t tell them it was me.” Blood trickled from his lips. “It’ll hurt the Gray Box.” He drew a shallow breath. “Knox. He’s the best of us. Light in the darkness. Bring him. Home.”
“I will.” The wound gushed beneath Castle’s palm and he pressed down harder.
“Stay away. From boat.” Sanborn grimaced in pain. “Bomb. On timer.” He swallowed and coughed, spitting up blood. “She’s…already…dead,” he said in a dying whisper, and one last breath left his body.
43
3:33 p.m.
Castle stood frozen. He held Sanborn’s limp body as his mentor’s eyes rolled back and his lids lowered slightly. The hand clasped on Castle’s wrist went slack.
She’s already dead. Those final words buzzed in Castle’s ears like flies. She’s already dead.
A bone-deep misery flooded him. He railed on the inside, his gut churning, insisting it wasn’t true.
It couldn’t be. He couldn’t lose Kit.
Castle forced himself to shove aside shock and think. Sanborn was great at manipulation and even better at strategy. If Kit had already been dead, there wouldn’t have been a drawn-out discussion about her, minutes wasted on a moot point when he needed to flee the scene.
Minutes wasted.
The part about the timer, a secondary trigger to the handheld detonator, was probably true. Sanborn had been keeping track of the time, wanted it wasted, even in death determined to win.
Castle looked at the watch on Sanborn’s wrist. It was counting down.
Three minutes, twenty seconds left.
There wasn’t much time. He had to risk it and go to the boat to see the truth for himself.
Ripping the watch from Sanborn’s wrist, Castle released his dead body. He hoisted himself out of the water up onto the dock and ran to untie the small raft. After jumping in, he primed the engine three times, and on the second pull, it caught, and he took off for the boat.
Castle steered the inflatable raft, keeping an eye on the time. The one thing he had to have faith in was its accuracy.
Desperation clawed at him. I can make it. I have to. Kit was alive. She had to be and needed him. Every other possibility he blocked out.
He reached the small cruiser and tied the raft to the ladder.
Another time check—one minute, forty-two seconds. Heart pounding, Castle climbed onto the deck.
He ran to the cabin. The door was locked.
Inside, Kit lay on the floor, hands and feet bound, unmoving. His chest pinched. She’s just unconscious, he told himself. Further in the cabin, Khan was alive and bound to the wheel.
Why kill Kit and not Khan instead of letting the blast take care of them both?
Castle kicked in the cabin door, slamming his sodden boot heel against the lock. The latch gave way, the frame buckling from the force. He rushed to Kit and dropped to a knee beside her.
Pressing two fingers to her throat, he felt for a pulse. Thready and weak, but she was alive. Knee-buckling relief tangled with rage the likes of which he’d never known.
Damn you, Sanborn. He’d distracted Castle, lied with his dying breath to try and destroy his last chance to save Kit.
Castle gathered her into his arms. “Kit!” He patted her cheek. Her skin was pale and cold, and her clothes were wet. She must’ve tried to escape.
Any attempt to swim while her hands and feet were restrained would’ve been too taxing on her heart, not to mention the stress and strain of being kidnapped.
Sanborn’s betrayal ate at Castle like poison.
He fished her meds from his pocket. The bottle was still sealed. No water had gotten in. He flipped the lid off and slipped a Nitrostat tablet between her lips, under her tongue, where it’d dissolve.
Less than a minute on the watch’s timer. They had to get off the boat before it blew.
Standing with her tucked against his body, he glanced at Khan. Even if Castle had been inclined to spare the terrorist, there wasn’t time to get them both to the skiff and still get a safe distance.
Castle hustled to the raft, lowered Kit in as gently as possible, and hopped in.
Releasing the rope, he pulled the cord on the motor. The answering rumble filled him with renewed hope. He could not, he would not, let her die.
A quick glance at the countdown. Thirty seconds. He felt a double tap from his heart.
He twisted the throttle, and they zipped away from the larger vessel. His mind whirled, trying to figure out what type of explosives Sanborn might’ve used, how big the blast radius would be. Something that would burn hot initially but fairly clean so as not to leave a trace.
Oh, to hell with it. The farther away the better.
He pushed the engine as hard as it would go. They had to get to shore, where he could get Kit medical help.
The cruiser burst into flames. Fire and splintered wood spat into the sky.
Castle grabbed the strap on the side of the skiff, hunching over Kit to protect her.
The blast wave jostled the raft, tossing the boat in every direction. A deluge of cool, salty water sprayed over the bow, drenching them.
Heat pressed in on him from the blazing wreckage. Debris littered the rough water and smoke billowed in the air.
Kit was still unconscious. Her breath was a strained wheeze. Another rolling rush of emotion swamped him.
Glancing at the shore, Castle had a partial view of the supermax’s parking lot. There were already flashing lights. Ambulances, police, and FBI were on the scene. From the large-scale activity, it looked as if all hell must’ve broken loose.
But it was too soon for them to be here in response to the explosion.
As he drew toward land, away from the dock and closer to the prison so he could get help for Kit sooner, he spotted U.S. Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases, or USAMRIID, biocontainment trucks and personnel in full hazmat suits. They were the military’s rapid response team that deployed to handle the highest level of biosafety contagions in coordination with the CDC.
Pomeroy and Boswell. Had Z-1984 been deployed?
Castle reached shore, running the boat up onto the ground. Not bothering to cut the engine, he picked Kit up and rushed up the hill. “Hang in there, baby. You’re a fighter.”
Off to his left about four hundred yards away, the Gray Box helicopter was setting down on the lawn. He knew Reaper would be piloting it, but when he saw Maddox hop out, he’d never been happier to see his sister.
The reinforcements might be late, but he was still grateful to see them. Castle continued charging up the mound in the opposite direction from his team. Headed straight through the gate and for an ambulance.
The massive parking lot was abuzz. As he weaved around first responders, Ashley pushed through the doors of the prison outside, looking as though she’d been to war herself. Their eyes met briefly, but he could only focus on getting Kit help.
Finally, he reached an ambulance and grabbed an EMT. “Please, help her!”
“Is she infected like the two guys inside?” the paramedic asked, taking a wary step backward. “Because USAMRIID is handling that.”
“No! She has a heart condition.”
The EMT waved him into the back of the ambulance.
Castle set Kit down gently on the gurney. “I put a Nitrostat under her tongue a few minutes ago, but she hasn’t regained consciousness.” He
handed the EMT her medicine bottle.
The paramedic checked her breathing, slipped an oxygen mask on her, and got to work examining her while running an ECG.
Castle’s jaw was clamped so tightly his teeth ached. “Don’t fucking quit on me.” He took her hand and held it. “Hear me, Kit. Fight. I need you to fight.”
She didn’t answer, didn’t stir in the slightest. A sob built in his chest, but he held it inside. “We need to get her to the hospital.”
“Can’t. The CDC had the police close the road until the situation has been assessed,” the EMT said, glancing at his watch. He placed another nitroglycerin tablet under Kit’s tongue and repositioned the oxygen mask. “Hey, you’re pretty banged up, buddy. I can have the other tech check you out.”
“No.” Castle shook his head, not looking away from Kit’s pale face, desperate for her eyes to open. “I’m fine. Just focus on her.”
The fight with Sanborn had left him in rough shape. His left eye was starting to swell, he had a cut on his head that stung, a split lip, and his ribs were bruised. But none of that mattered. Kit was his main concern.
Castle reached out a hand that trembled and pressed it to her chest. Sought comfort in the rise and fall. Clung to the faint beat of her pulse. Focused on the sound of each shallow breath. Raw emotion welled in his throat, choking him. He clenched his jaw against it, hardened every muscle to keep from falling apart.
Ashley stepped up to the rear of the ambulance, her face grave, and gestured for him to come out. He gave a quick, reluctant nod.
“Is she going to be okay?” Castle asked the EMT.
“She’s not in cardiac arrest, but her vitals could be better.” He covered her with a foil blanket and started setting up an IV. “She might just need some air or more time for the nitroglycerin to take effect, but when the road opens, we should take her to the hospital so they can run a battery of tests.”
“Okay. Thank you.” Castle took Kit’s cold hand in his and kissed her knuckles. “I’m here, waiting for you to open your eyes, baby,” he whispered in her ear. “You’ve got to fight through this and come back to me. You’re my heart and I need you. Do you hear me?” He glanced at Ashley, not wanting to leave Kit’s side for a second, but Sanborn had opened Pandora’s box and Castle needed to know what was going on. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, Kit-Kat. I swear it.” He climbed out of the ambulance and went over to where Ashley was waiting, collecting himself along the way. “Pomeroy and Senator Boswell?”
Ashley shook her head. “I couldn’t get them out of the room before the Z-1984 deployed.” She swallowed and folded her arms. “It was horrible. I’ve never seen anything like it. They turned into…I don’t know. They went completely feral. Attacked each other. Tore each other apart. They’re both dead.” She stared past him, her eyes haunted.
Sanborn got his vengeance, but the gamble he took, once again, simply wasn’t worth it.
“You contacted the CDC?”
“I shut off the jammers and called them. USAMRIID has contained the room they were in.”
“Bravo?” Castle asked and glanced back at the ambulance, wondering if Kit might still be in danger.
“Dead. I killed that son of a bitch. And Sanborn?” She looked toward the fiery wreckage out on the water.
His throat seized, going dry. He shook his head, and she caught his meaning without making him say it out loud.
Castle had killed Bruce Sanborn. Would he ever be able to say it out loud?
They both looked around at the commotion in the parking lot, the sea of white hazmat suits moving back and forth from the building, the police, firefighters, the FBI all in a frenzy. He thought about the dead terrorist out on the water.
With Sanborn gone and Knox deployed, this was Castle’s mess to explain and clean up. He didn’t even have the DNI to rely on for help, considering he’d turned full-fledged zombie along with Senator Boswell.
Helicopters from the media swooped in overhead.
“Someone has to take charge of all this, answer questions, give a story,” Ashley said as if reading his thoughts. “Especially if Sanborn’s body is going to be found. Not to mention Khan.”
What story to tell? The truth was too ugly and god-awful, and the Gray Box would never survive it. A lie, a well-crafted cover-up that was standard operating procedure in their business would protect the Gray Box and ultimately the country. But could he live with it?
“You want the job?” Castle asked her.
“No, thanks.” She raised her palms. “My debt to Sanborn is paid. And my husband will be here shortly to give me a ride.”
The burden fell to him. He looked back at the ambulance and then to Ashley. “Thank you for your help. I wouldn’t have been able to save her without you.”
“All in a day’s work.” She shrugged. “When Knox gets back, tell him to give me a call. We need to catch up.”
“Will do.”
They shook hands and parted ways.
As he reached the ambulance, Maddox and Reaper were inbound.
“How is she doing?” Castle asked.
“Her pulse is stronger and her BP has improved,” the EMT said. “Color is starting to return to her face.”
She was going to be okay. He exhaled in a quiet rush of relief.
“What the hell is going on?” Maddox asked, coming up beside him.
With Kit doing better, Castle stepped beyond the earshot of the paramedics. There wasn’t time to explain everything in detail, but he rattled off the CliffsNotes version—how Sanborn sold his soul for power and vengeance, the hijacking of the bioweapons, the black market auction, the stunt at the water plant, the fake chatter, bringing Khan on American soil to take the fall for it all.
He did his best to thread the pieces together and answer their rapid-fire questions.
When he got to the part about his standoff with Sanborn, he locked down his grief and guilt, pressing through, and said, “I shot Sanborn.” His voice was rough between hard swallows. “I killed him.”
The sting seared his heart.
If he hadn’t, Sanborn would’ve stalled, running down the clock, and Kit would be dead.
Castle had been one of Sanborn’s first recruits for the Gray Box. For seven years, he’d believed in him, followed him, subscribed to Sanborn’s ideology, thinking it had mirrored his own. Castle was the brutal soldier Sanborn had needed, the clever operative he was supposed to become. Soaked up his praise and devoured his macarons like a well-trained follower. He was so busy being everything that Sanborn wanted that he never considered what else he might be.
Both Maddox and Reaper were wide-eyed and speechless. The gravity of the situation was suffocating. Castle could barely breathe.
“Jesus. I can’t believe it.” Reaper shook his head, his eyes solemn. “Only Sanborn could’ve come up with an operation so…”
Cunning. Complex. “Machiavellian,” Castle said.
“How could he gamble Cole’s life with the Russians? Risk all our lives?” It was plain to see on Maddox’s stricken face that she didn’t want any of it to be true. “How could he have lied to us? Used us?”
Castle was still grappling with the reality. The deceit. The profound betrayal. That Sanborn was gone. Every single one of them would have to go through the five stages of grief. Castle was somewhere between anger and bargaining.
Acceptance was a long way off.
“I’m sorry you had to be the one,” Reaper said. “To end it.”
To kill Sanborn.
“Oh God.” Maddox clutched his arm. “I can’t imagine what this must be like for you, Castle. You two were so close.”
Castle’s chest ached. Deep down, something inside him was bleeding, but he couldn’t unpack the conflicting emotions tearing through him. Not now. Not here. Hell, maybe not ever.
It was too much. He wanted
to shut down, but instead he summoned his strength. “Yeah,” he gritted out, unable to meet her eyes. His throat tightened. “Reaper, I need you to go back to headquarters and find the real anthrax device that Sanborn hid somewhere so we can turn it over to the CDC.”
His friend nodded. “I’ll find it.”
“She’s awake!” the EMT called.
Castle’s heart leapt. He turned and jumped into the ambulance.
Kit opened her eyes and stared up at him.
Fathomless joy washed over him.
“You look awful,” she said, sounding as if she’d run a marathon.
Tears stung his eyes and he smiled. “You look a hot mess yourself.”
She touched his face, caressing his stubbled cheek. Sticky emotions rose in his chest. He kissed the inside of her wrist and soaked in the normal beat of her pulse.
“God, Kit.” He squeezed her hand and brushed his lips across her cool forehead. “Are you all right?”
She gave a slow, shallow nod. “I am now. But you really have to work on your timing.”
He huffed a surprised laugh. “Yes, ma’am.” They’d both survived and had a chance at something, together. He wasn’t going to waste one precious minute with her by chasing after death and violence.
Castle held Kit tighter, emptied of everything but love and gratitude. This was the point of living. He’d never take this feeling for granted. Or her.
“There’s a lot going on here.” Castle pulled back to look in Kit’s crazy-beautiful eyes. “Someone has to manage it, answer questions. Get the road open so you can go to the hospital and have some tests done to be on the safe side.” He lowered his head. “I think it has to be me. Would you hate me if I left you with Maddox for a bit?”
Kit flashed a weak smile. “Believe it or not, I could never hate you. Pissed? Yeah, I can do pissed unless you promise to make it up to me.”
He wanted to spend the rest of his life making it up to her. Loving her. Not squandering this second chance they’d been given that had been paid for in blood. Though that sounded a bit heavy in his head. “I swear to you, as soon as I’m done here, I’ll get to the hospital and start making it up to you. Trust me when I say it’ll be quite some time before I’m done.”