Richard Castle - Deadly Heat

They circled each other, throwing decoys and fakes, nobody committing yet. “I’m fine with the arraignment. I was awake because I finally broke a coded message my mom left me.” She threw a low shoulder, straight to his waist. He didn’t react in time and he went down. This time, she helped him to his feet. “She definitely busted Carey Maggs.”

“A little late now that we closed the case, but congrats.”

Heat shook her arms to keep limber. “Bart, when I asked you to check Maggs out, didn’t you send me an e-mail clearing him?” He must have thought she had her guard down. He suddenly dropped to his seat and made a leg sweep toward the backs of her knees. But Nikki jumped his move like a double-Dutch, landed on her feet, then danced in place, letting him haul himself up this time.

“Can’t believe I just whiffed.” He got on his feet, and shook his head at getting skunked.

“Didn’t you say Maggs was clean?”

He forearmed some sweat off his brow. “Database doesn’t catch everything.”

“Guess not,” she said. He tried to shoulder-tackle her at the waist, but she rolled with it and landed on top of him. She hopped to her feet. While he bounced to his, she said, “Got a question for you about the helipad, the other night.”

“Heat, are we here to spar or talk?”

“How did you know to get there first?”

“I told you, Yardley Bell told me.” He moved for her right side. She expected a fake, but he committed and clotheslined her down.

She said, “Rook said he never told her.”

“How else would I know?”

“Hinesburg, maybe?” She got to her feet, watching him closely.

“Hinesburg? Why would I be talking with Hinesburg?” They came at each other at the same time, locking up their arms. Standing at a stalemate. They broke apart and danced a circle sideways, facing each other.

“Weird thing,” said Heat. “When we searched Hinesburg’s stuff, we found her backup gun. At home.”

He side-danced some more. “So she had another. What the hell is this?”

“And my friend, the ME, caught up with me over the weekend. She found trace metals and powder burns on Hinesburg’s entry wound.”

“What can I say? My cannon barks.” He made a move for her, but pulled back when she got ready to counter. Then, when she let down, he rolled her across his hip onto the mat. He put out a hand and pulled her up.

“Another thing in that message of my mother’s? In addition to nailing Maggs, she also had something interesting to say… About the Dragon.” She paused. “How much was Carey Maggs paying you?” Callan’s fist lashed out so rapidly, it stunned her. With no time to block it, he clocked Nikki’s jaw so hard that she flew off the mat and landed sideways on the hardwood. Before Heat could clear her head, he turned and raced to the corner where he’d left his stuff. He reached down into his gym bag and brought out his service weapon.

But Heat had speed he didn’t count on. Before Callan could come around with it, she dropped him from behind with a tackle that whipped his face into the cinder blocks just above the floorboards. He twisted around, blood streaming from his nose, and locked her head between his knees. She felt his arm coming down toward her with the gun. She reached up, flailing blindly, caught hold of his wrist, then kicked hard onto the floor with her heels and kipped her body up. Her momentum carried her feet in an arc up and over her head so that her kneecaps came down, pile-driving his torso. He cried out and his leglock slackened. Nikki sprung to all fours and flipped him over facedown, her one hand still clamped onto his right wrist to hold the gun up and away.

The man was strong and struggled hard against her grip, but Heat held fast. At last Nikki felt him start to give in. But then, in a sudden move, Callan thrust his head upward. The back of his skull smacked her sharply on the chin. Her head rang and her vision darkened at the edges. Then she blacked out.

It couldn’t have been for more than a second or two, but when her brain cleared and she jumped to her feet, Callan was on his, too, bringing the Sig Elite up on her.

She braced herself for the shot, but he hesitated. “I didn’t want this,” he said. It sounded like an appeal. “When you accidentally ended up at the heart of this thing, I kept steering you away. And the deeper you dug, I tried to steer you away again and again.” Callan swiped the flow of blood from his nose with the back of a wrist while his other held the gun steady. “Nikki, I cared about you. I did everything I could… But now I have to kill you.”

“You don’t.” But they both knew he did. She measured distance. Close but risky. To Heat, the muzzle of the pistol looked as wide as a tunnel.

“Don’t even,” he said.

“At least tell me why.” She looked into his eyes and saw conflict. Even sadness. So she held the gaze and made an appeal of her own. She used his first name. “Bart, if there was ever anything between us, at least let me go to my grave knowing why.” Nikki could see him considering. “Bart, please? I know who. Don’t I deserve a why?”

He wristed his nosebleed again, thinking about it. His eye went to the door. Then back to her. “You figured it out already. The bioterror plot funded by Maggs.”

“He paid you?”

“Yes.”

“And Tyler Wynn? How did Maggs turn him?”

“I turned him. He was ripe. Classic profile. An obsolete agent with expensive needs.”

“But why Wynn?”

“European recruiting. After Ari Weiss became a problem, he did a search for a biochemist with workable morals.”

“Tyler found Vaja?” Callan didn’t answer her. Didn’t need to. “And that’s why this plot went to sleep for eleven years? Just to find one biochemist?”

“Not just. Maggs also needed to set up his pharma company. Then get the government contract. Distribution capability. That took time. Years. The promise of a couple billion buys a lot of patience.”

A motorbike ying-ying ed on the street and it spooked him. Before he changed his mind, Heat fired another question. “Why kill Nicole Bernardin?”

“Vaja lit up her radar when he started making trips to Russia recently to get the smallpox strain. That’s what we were waiting for. The last piece of the puzzle. Getting the virus so he could brew it and weaponize it. Nicole got too good at her job, and…” He let it hang there. The sentence carried deadly implications for Nikki.

Callan didn’t seem eager for the next step, either. “Bart,” Nikki said, personalizing again. Trying to sound sensible instead of pleading. “Have you thought this through? If you kill me, you still have to run. You can also choose to not kill me and still run.”

He shook his head. “Not in the cards.”

“Or you could cut a deal. Turn evidence on Maggs. Come on, we do it for perps all the time. You’ve done it, I’ve done-”

Heat thought the loud bang was the gunshot, but it was the metal door slamming open against the gym wall. Nikki turned and saw Yardley Bell holding a pistol. Callan spun toward Bell with his Sig Elite. Nikki lunged for him, clamped a hand around his gun wrist, and pointed the weapon to the ceiling. The pistol shot thundered and paint flurried down on them as Heat jerked his left arm behind his back until she heard a nauseating gristle snap inside his shoulder. Callan’s scream echoed through the gym, and his Sig Elite clattered onto the floor.

Nikki dropped him on his face and put a knee in his back as Agent Bell rushed over to cuff him.

Heat turned to her and said, “You’re late.”

Nikki Heat and Yardley Bell stood together on the sidewalk outside the gym while the paramedics in the back of the ambulance braced Callan’s dislocated shoulder and cleaned the blood off his nose and chin. Heat said, “Think he’ll give up Maggs for a deal?”