Until the End

by Juno Rushdan

  Sanborn looked her over from head to toe and back again. “He’s a special one.” The chief patted his hand, making Castle’s insides tighten. “I trust he’s taking good care of you.”

  “Yes. The best.” She brushed wet hair from her eyes and folded her arms across her chest.

  Castle’s stomach churned. His head grew a little fuzzy as the temperature in the room seemed to rise.

  “Sit.” Sanborn gestured to the stool. “Have a macaron. Castle will attest they’re fantastic.”

  “I’ll pass. I don’t have a sweet tooth.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing,” Sanborn said.

  Castle shifted on his stool as a watery sensation spilled along his spine, splashing into his gut, winding down his legs.

  “I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it,” Kit said. “For the record, I don’t usually walk around dressed this way.” She dragged her bottom lip through her teeth. “I’ve gotten quite comfortable around Agent Kinkade, but he’s been completely professional.” Her cheeks were such a bright berry-red, her face must’ve felt like it was on fire. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to finish dressing.” She looked to Castle. “Where’s my stuff?”

  By stuff, he inferred she meant the hard drives. “In your bag, under the coffee table, next to your shoes.”

  She nodded and scurried out of the room. A moment later, her feet padding up the stairs was the only sound in the town house.

  Sanborn leaned over in his seat behind the counter, picked up something from the floor, and set it on the granite.

  An unopened condom.

  As if Kit trotting downstairs in one of his T-shirts hadn’t been bad enough.

  Both men stared at each other, a game of chicken to see who’d address the giant purple elephant in the room first. Castle considered saying something to break the unnerving silence, but his tongue was numb.

  His skin was suddenly so hot, he would’ve sworn he had a fever.

  “The chocolate pretzel flavor is my favorite this time around,” Sanborn said. “I devoured four from my own box in the car on the way here.” He pointed to an orange cookie with brown filling and a sprinkling of sea salt.

  “I’ve lost my appetite, sir.”

  “Really? I would’ve thought you and Ms. Westcott had worked up quite an appetite.”

  Castle cleared his parched throat, the fuzziness spreading through his synapses.

  “I’ll take that cup of coffee now,” Sanborn said.

  Castle hopped up, the heat in his body rising, and swayed on weak legs. His knees nearly buckled, but he pressed a hand to the counter and steadied himself.

  The room was stuffy. He needed to check the air after he got Sanborn coffee, then he could settle in for the big reprimand coming.

  He went to the cabinet and grabbed another mug. His head began to pound and a shiver stole through him that didn’t leave.

  The symptoms had hit him out of nowhere…right after he ate the cookies. But Sanborn would never hurt him, never—

  Something clanked to the floor and rolled across the tile—a tinny, metallic sound.

  Castle wheeled around, looking for the source, and spotted the canister near his feet too late.

  A colorless gas erupted in a short hiss, sweet-smelling and pleasantly pungent. Halothane. The scent was distinctive. In less than ten seconds, he’d be out cold.

  Castle turned and faced Sanborn, who now sat on the kitchen stool, wearing a respirator mask as he closed his messenger bag. Castle had never even heard the man move.

  Even as the room tilted and spun, as the mug slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor, his brain jolted in frantic realization. His boss, his mentor, a man he loved like a father had turned on him.

  Castle bolted out of the kitchen. “Kit! Get to the sanctum! Now!”

  As he reached the stairs, his knees turned liquid and he dropped.

  The panic room door slammed shut and sealed upstairs.

  Castle fought against the darkness edging in, his weighted eyelids growing heavier. He couldn’t leave Kit alone. He had to get up and help her. But his breathing slowed. His pulse slugged from one beat to the next, his tongue lead in his mouth.

  He looked around for something he could use to help him stand and glimpsed Kit’s bottle of Nitrostat on the floor.

  Get up, he commanded his body. Get up!

  The best he managed was flopping onto his back.

  Sanborn stood over him. “Why couldn’t you both have eaten the cookies and made my life a little easier?”

  Then there was only a searing darkness.

  40

  Kit popped a propranolol tablet and stood in front of the monitors in the sanctum.

  Sanborn removed a respirator mask and opened the front door, letting in Bravo, Charlie, Delta—or Echo, she couldn’t be sure—and a new woman.

  Kit vacillated between wanting to heave and wanting to fall to pieces. Nothing made any sense. But she couldn’t deny what was right in front of her.

  Holy hell! What was she going to do?

  This world-ending kind of moment called for Nitrostat, but the bottle wasn’t in her bag.

  Sanborn strolled up the stairs, taking his time. The three men grabbed Castle, one under each of his arms and one at his feet, and carried him up after Sanborn. The woman followed.

  They put Castle on his knees in full view of a camera, holding him upright, his head dangling. Her stomach plummeted.

  Oh God! Oh God! What was happening?

  Sanborn waved two fingers at the camera. “Ms. Westcott, please open the door. I’d prefer to speak face-to-face.”

  She hit the intercom button. “Go fuck yourself!”

  “You’re an educated woman. I think we can handle this in a more civilized manner. Must we resort to such vulgarity?”

  “You just let the enemy inside. Those are the men who killed the Outliers. They’ve been trying to kill me. I’d say a little vulgarity was in fucking order. What’s going on?”

  “They work for me.”

  Her ears rang with the words as if someone had struck a gong inside her head, the truth prickling her insides. Still, her mind railed against it. “It doesn’t make any sense. Why? Why would you have Castle protect me if you just wanted to kill me?”

  “Make no mistake, I never wanted Castle to protect you, but he insisted. If Danny had been keeping you safe”—he used air quotes—“one little phone call to yank him away, some emergency with his sister, and this would’ve been wrapped up days ago. But somehow you got your hooks into Castle.”

  This was a nightmare, a bad dream she had to wake up from.

  Sanborn pulled out a gun and pressed the barrel to the back of Castle’s head. “I’d hate to spray his brains all over the wall. Really, I would—he’s one of my favorites. But if you don’t open the door, I will kill him.”

  “How do I know he’s not already dead?”

  Sanborn took out a small, rectangular mirror from his bag and placed it close under Castle’s face, angling it toward the camera. “Can you see him breathing, Ms. Westcott?”

  His warm breath condensed on the mirror. She gasped in relief and yet was still so terrified. Thank God! Castle was alive. But panic once again outweighed everything. “What’s to stop you from killing him after I open the door?”

  “I’ve gone to extraordinary lengths to protect him in this. Bravo could’ve taken a shot at Castle back at your apartment. After you two had jumped into the pool, but with the distance, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t have killed him. He was spared because I commanded it. I could’ve given Bravo Castle’s identity, his home address, allowed forced infiltration. But Castle would’ve dug in for the fight. Either he would’ve wiped out Bravo’s entire team or they would’ve killed him. Both were unacceptable outcomes. Down in the kitchen, I could�
�ve given him enough drugs to lobotomize an elephant. But I used a lighter touch. The low dose of halothane will wear off shortly. I need you out of that room before then.”

  She was dizzy with a sickening fear. Her legs barely kept her standing.

  “He lives because I deem it so. Castle is the future of the Gray Box. I’ve invested a great deal of time and effort in him. I’d prefer that he keeps breathing. You have ten seconds. Nine.”

  Sanborn had a well-laid plan, the depths of which she couldn’t possibly conceive. Diversions. Illusions. False promises.

  She didn’t know what to think, what to believe.

  “Eight, seven, six.”

  Heart throbbing in her throat, she stared at the screen. At Castle. His head was starting to move side to side, but he was in no condition to fight, much less stand.

  “Five, four. Castle’s blood will be on your hands.”

  Seeing Castle helpless, the gun pointed to his head, the thought of him dying scared the hell out of her. Sent a deep, intense panic spiraling in her gut.

  “I have no intention of killing him,” Sanborn continued, “unless you force me to.”

  Her lungs ached with each freaked-out breath.

  She’d always known she was on borrowed time. Maybe death had let her live this long so she could save Castle now. If there was the smallest chance, no matter how miniscule, that Sanborn would spare Castle, then she had to take it.

  Her life for his.

  “Three, two.”

  Kit entered the code, disengaging the lock. The door swung open and Kit rushed toward Castle. Bravo cut her off, snatching her arm, and hauled her back into the room.

  Castle raised his head, his eyelids droopy, and mumbled something, but she couldn’t hear him.

  Sanborn bent down, lowering his ear to his mouth. “What was that?” He paused, listening. “Yes, you’re quite right.” Sanborn’s gaze lifted to her. “Castle said you shouldn’t have opened the door, because it was a bluff. I wasn’t going to kill him.”

  Her eyes stung. The burn ran all the way to her heart.

  “Where’s the third hard drive?” Sanborn asked.

  Reflexively, Kit clutched her satchel, wanting to rewind time, open the safety deposit box, and store the drive there for safekeeping. “What are you talking about? There isn’t a third drive.”

  Sanborn gestured to the blond woman, who grabbed Kit’s bag and searched it.

  “Two drives are in here,” the woman said. “One of them is what you’re looking for.”

  “The first day you walked into the Gray Box,” Sanborn said, “I knew who you were, that you had three drives in your possession, and that you were a filthy liar.”

  Sanborn gestured to the men holding Castle. They dragged him into the room and handcuffed him to one of the storage units.

  “Remove his boots,” Sanborn said. “He keeps handcuff keys in one of them.”

  “Why?” Castle groaned, his head lolling from side to side as he struggled to regain full consciousness. “Why send both us and Bravo to the park that day?” His voice was weak and raspy.

  “Willow is a shrewd analyst. She found the messages between Kit01Y0L0 and Illuminati411. I’d already deduced that Ms. Westcott was Kit01Y0L0. Knowing her identity helped Bravo make the connection to Gary Hodges, otherwise known as Illuminati411. I had to deploy the Gray Box to the park, there was no way around it, but Bravo followed Hodges in the hopes of intercepting Ms. Westcott first. If Bravo had gotten to her seconds before you, think of the colossal headache it would’ve saved us all.”

  “Apartment.” Castle slurred the word. “MIT.”

  Kit wanted to go to him, nurse him through this, tell him that he’d be all right.

  “Both regrettable incidents.” Sanborn took a knee in front of Castle and raised his chin as he spoke to him. “You neglected to tell me you were going to her apartment or MIT. Bravo is excitable. Not unlike you. Once you give him a mission, he will do his darnedest to see it done. I did tie one of his hands behind his back with orders not to kill you, but he understood how important it was for me to get those hard drives, contain Ms. Westcott, and tie up loose ends.”

  “He’s a loose end,” Bravo said, gesturing to Castle. “Are you sure you don’t want me to smoke him?”

  “Castle isn’t a loose end.” Steel threaded Sanborn’s words. “He and I were made from the same mold. Both of us willing to sacrifice anything for the republic. For the greater good. He was me, twenty years ago. Once this piece of garbage has been disposed of,” Sanborn said, throwing a glare at Kit that made her heart thunder in her chest, “and I’m able to sit him down, explain my reasons for all this, he will not only understand. He will thank me.”

  * * *

  1:30 p.m. EDT

  Castle’s stomach clenched and his head swam. He’d expelled the cookies some time ago—an act of sheer will. But the drug was still in his system. At least his vision had cleared and feeling returned to his limbs.

  He glanced around the panic room. The door was wide open.

  Kit. Was she still alive? Or did Sanborn have some psychotic plan for her?

  He went to move, but his wrists were bound behind him to the storage unit bolted to the wall. Handcuffed. His feet were zip-tied in front and his boots had been removed.

  Damn it. He had a vague recollection of them binding him, but he’d been so out of it from the side effects of the halothane.

  The whole world had flipped upside down and everything was surreal. He tried to fit the pieces together, force the sordid picture of Sanborn working with the enemy to make sense.

  Not working with the enemy.

  Sanborn was the enemy.

  Castle tugged at his restraints and the iron shelving unit he’d reinforced into the wall. Nothing budged. All his weapons were on the other side of the room, far from reach. They’d cuffed him to the unit with food and water and not a single item he could knock off the shelf to help himself.

  He straightened, looking for a better angle to jerk the storage unit, perhaps get a bolt loose. His back pressed against the steel bar and the knife hidden in his belt dug into his spine. It was custom-crafted from hardened one-eighth-of-an-inch-thick stainless steel.

  That might work.

  Slipping his nails up and under his belt, he fumbled for the finger loop. He twisted his wrist a little to the left and snagged it. Slowly, he wiggled the knife free of his belt.

  Now came the hard part.

  Castle felt around. His fingers glided over the short connecting chain of the cuffs that bound his wrists, past the swivel, the double-strand cheek plates to the keyhole, cursing his damn boots sitting in the hall with a key. He skimmed the riveted teeth of the single bar swing arm locked in the pawl.

  Using his right hand, Castle angled the tip of the blade, aiming for the sweet spot where the swing arm hooked into place. Pain bit into his wrist when he cut himself. Not too bad, but blood trickled down his hand.

  His pulse pounded. Anxiety constricted his veins. Every second he delayed was one more second where he might lose Kit forever.

  Another slice. Hurried and deep. This time, he cut a gash across his abductor pollicis brevis, the muscle in his palm located between the wrist and base of the thumb. It stung like a son of a bitch.

  Drawing a steady breath, he tried again, forcing himself to slow down.

  The blade just missed the groove he was aiming for. Metal scratched metal. He focused, visualizing the cuffs. The tip of the knife slipped into the small gap between the swing arm and the pawl. He hit the round gear, and one by one, he forced the teeth of the rivets to retract.

  Each time, the swing arm loosened more, widening around his wrist until the cuff opened.

  Castle sliced through the zip tie binding his feet and scrambled off the floor. Knock him down and he would keep getting back up, every tim
e.

  Releasing the other side of the cuff was a cinch with his hands in front of him.

  He tugged on his boots and grabbed the GPS tracking device from the desk. Downstairs, he found Kit’s Nitrostat, shoved it in his pocket, and jumped in his car.

  * * *

  Potomac River

  2:05 p.m. EDT

  The high-speed cabin cruiser carried them south along the river. Fifty-mile-per-hour winds whipped Ashley’s blond hair about her face as she scanned their surroundings while keeping an eye on Westcott. The woman was bound and gagged and shivering.

  Bravo had a tight leash on Khan, who was stowed in the cabin.

  Sanborn had finally wrapped up preparations for the final step, but he was keeping her in the dark on many of the details.

  She’d pieced together that Sanborn had used Westcott’s hacker group to plant false classified SIGINT chatter on a time-delayed release to give credence to the veracity of their staged attacks and cement Khan as the culprit. Only cybergeniuses would’ve been able to pull that off. Sanborn also used the Outliers to get the blueprints and security codes for Zulu’s target site—the water treatment facility—and Alpha’s target site, where they were headed now. A recently built supermax prison.

  Currently, high-intelligence security risks, those suspected or convicted of treason, were kept in the Hole—a supermax housed within another federal prison. The U.S. Senate Select Committee on Intelligence and the director of national intelligence had lobbied for a new, independently contained facility. Basically, a bigger, deeper Hole, where no one would ever find the largest collection of this country’s greatest threats.

  It was being inaugurated today.

  Sanborn opened a case and showed it to Bravo. “The two targets are to be isolated as we discussed. Z-1984 is to be used on them. That’s how I want them to die. Not with a bullet, under any circumstances. Are we clear?”

  “Crystal,” Bravo said with a smile.

  Ashley must’ve misheard him over the wind. He couldn’t have said what she thought. “Sir, did you say Z-1984 is going to be deployed in a real scenario?”