Richard Castle - Deadly Heat

“Interesting,” said Heat.

“BeniPharm’s prospectus says it’s uniquely positioned itself as the world’s leading source for the smallpox antiviral remedy. I didn’t realize it until Detective Heat got hers, but if you get this medicine within five days of exposure, you won’t get smallpox.”

“That’s right,” said Maggs.

Heat asked, “Why throw all that effort into a medicine for an extinct disease?”

“Paranoia,” said Rook. “We live in an era where nuts can unleash bioterror. In fact, according to this, BeniPharm has a contract from the United States government for half a billion dollars’ worth of your company’s smallpox medicine.”

“Nothing wrong with that. I… we… perform a public service.”

Heat said, “And what would happen to your profits if there were a smallpox outbreak?”

“You’re reaching-”

“Or if smallpox were weaponized and released in a terror event? In a major metro area?”

“This is a frame.”

“What would it do?” Nikki asked. “Would your profits double? Triple? Would other countries buy in? Tell me, what would you gain? Ten times the profit?” Heat rose, shouting, slapping a palm on the table. “Is that worth killing thousands of innocent people? Was that the cost of my mother’s life, you son of a bitch?”

Spent, Heat stood there panting. The room grew still.

At last, calmer, she spoke. “Do one right thing, Maggs. Tell me when and where.”

He rocked his head. “I’ll tell you this.” And when he had their attention, he said, “You’re all still guessing.”

Heat flung the door with both hands, and it smacked the wall in the Observation Room. “I can’t break him.”

“You did great,” said Callan.

Bell said to Rook, “You both did great. Couldn’t have played it better.”

Through the window, they saw Maggs slouched in his chair with his head tilted back, eyes closed. He could have been a commuter dozing on the train to Connecticut instead of the prime suspect in a mass terror plot. “He’s got balls,” said Rook. “He comes just to the point you think he’s going to crack, and he sucks ’em up.”

“What’s he got to lose?” said Bell. “You laid it out yourself. An upside of billions, if he keeps his mouth shut; life in prison if he suddenly gets a conscience.”

“After five o’clock,” said Callan. “I say we move off traditional means and take him for a ride to the Black Barn.”

Rook’s face lit up. “You guys really have a Black Barn?”

Callan frowned and looked at Nikki. “Is he for real?”

“Well,” insisted Rook, “do you?”

Nikki said, “He’s not going anywhere. We don’t do that.”

Behind her, Yardley Bell chuckled softly. Agent Callan said to Rook, “She’s right. Sadly, this is US soil. Much as I wouldn’t mind doing a little tenderizing, we’re going to have to keep working him constitutionally.” He walked to the window and said, “Let’s take five. When we come back, I get my shot at this prick.”

Heat found her voice mail stacked with messages when she got back into the bull pen. Lauren Parry had left word she had some interesting postmortem news to share. Nikki saved that one in order to first return Detective Ochoa’s call.

“Where are you guys?”

“Team Roach is currently inside Brewery Boz at South Street. How’s it going with Maggs, anything?”

“Nothing yet. He just keeps acting like he’s going to put me on some Amnesty International list just below North Korea.”

Ochoa said, “Unfortunately we’re not going to be any help. And, trust me, we swarmed his apartment and the brewery like an Indy pit crew. Forensics, too. That includes NYPD and the DHS geeks with their R2-D2 vacuum sniffer things.”

“Everything’s clean?”

“Not just clean. Antiseptic.”

After they hung up, she’d just started to fill Rook in when one of the precinct aides rushed in and interrupted. All she said was, “Rainbow.”

Nikki reached out to grab the phone. Rook surprised her by clamping his hand over hers, holding down the receiver. “Rook.”

“Take your time. Let him wait.”

“I might get something out of him about the attack, I can’t wait.”

“Same as Maggs, if he smells that, you’re dead.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and released his. “Remember what I said. You played his game; make him play yours.”

Heat pondered that, and even though it ran counter to everything she felt-to everything she so desperately needed at the eleventh hour-she agreed. If Rainbow smelled desperation, Rainbow ran the table. She waited a full thirty agonizing seconds before she picked up. “Heat.”

“What? Are you keeping me on hold to run a trace?” She recognized Glen Windsor’s voice and gave Rook a nod to affirm. “I’m not an idiot. I know how to set up a phone so it can’t be pinged.” And then an inspiration struck Nikki that scared the hell out of her. She didn’t examine it, she didn’t weigh it, she simply acted on her impulse.

She hung up on him.

“God damn,” said Rook.

Just as she felt nausea’s burn greeting her with the notion she might have just made a fatal mistake, the line purred again. Heat snapped the record switch on the junction box and let one more ring pass before she answered. Windsor jumped in before she even spoke. “What the fuck was that about?” His voice cracked with agitation. The power of the game, she thought.

“Glen, I’m busy.” It took all her effort to sound detached.

“Fuck you busy. We need to talk.”

“Hang on a sec.” She covered the mouthpiece loosely and called off to nobody, “Just wait for me, OK? Be there in ten seconds. Ten seconds.” Rook clench-pumped both his fists to give her encouragement. Committed to the strategy, she waded in. “Listen, if you want to talk to me, why don’t you come in? Otherwise, you’ll have to wait.”

“Have you lost it?”

“No, in fact, I kind of have a clear head for a change. See, I just don’t have time for you now. I have something bigger to deal with.”

“Bigger?” She could hear his breathing accelerate. “What, that bio plot?”

“You’ll have to wait, Glen. Your moment has passed.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?”

The more he went over the top, the more flat she made her voice. “You know, I really can’t deal with this now.”

“You don’t know shit. You don’t even know where this stuff’s going to be released.”

She waited, just in case he offered. When he didn’t, she said, “No, but I will. I’m going to be there to stop this madness, and when I do, you’re going to be no more than an asterisk.”

“Bull. Shit.”

“It’s not you, Glen, it’s just the way it goes. A bigger fish came along.”

“No, I fucking own this now. At nine tomorrow morning, I’ll be gone, but everyone will know I did it. I’ll make history, and you can live with it.”

“Got to see that. Want to tell me where?”

But he’d hung up.

Heat raced out of the squad room, saying, “Nine A.M. Let’s tell Callan.”

Rook kept pace with her down the hall and said, “Considering that you’re someone who hates to play games, remind me never to cross you.”

Nikki hurried into Observation One and found it empty. A creeping certainty weakened her limbs. She rushed to the glass to look into Interrogation.

The room was empty.

“Maggs is gone,” she said to Rook as she ran back out the door. “And so are Callan and Bell.”

The desk sergeant had seen them lead Maggs out through the lobby but thought nothing of it. Why should he? They were federal agents escorting a prisoner. In a knowing act of futility, Heat and Rook trotted out through the glass doors onto 82nd. All they found was the air-conditioning puddle where Callan had parked his SUV and an empty street between them and Columbus.