American TV Writer

Neither Castle nor Beckett knew about any of this, and right now, Gavin, who was desperately scrambling to save his own neck, had no idea either. On this very day, the FBI had come knocking, formally questioning him about his connection to Vincent Adler, a federal fugitive. They wanted Gavin to explain why Adler, upon secretly returning to New York, stayed at his Long Island estate.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Gavin didn't panic. After all, he had recently made a significant contribution by helping to capture the killer of Senator William, earning the support of his party's leaders. He calmly concocted a story, claiming that he had been tricked by Adler, who had presented himself as a wealthy Argentine businessman with a Spanish name. How was he supposed to know that Adler was actually a federal fugitive?

The FBI agents questioning him were left internally groaning. You didn't know his true identity but still lent him your estate? Could your lies be any more transparent? However, there was little the agents could do. Gavin was a congressman, one of the few real power players in the USA, and though greedy and somewhat foolish, he was well-protected by powerful backers. Frustrated, the agents could only bow to reality, accepting Gavin's version of events to report back to their superiors. Any further handling of the case would be left to those higher up the chain.

This situation highlighted the stark difference between those with backing and those without. Senator William Bracken, once so powerful, fell because his supporters abandoned him. On the other hand, the greedy and foolish Congressman Gavin was shielded from the consequences of his ties to Adler because he had earned favor with his party by catching William's killer. This is the true face of the so-called "freedom and democracy" of the USA—a country shameless enough to play both sides of the coin.

Hanging up the phone from Senator William, Sloan, the old fox, was left in a dilemma. William hadn't directly pressured him to take the job through sheer force of power. No, he had offered Sloan a substantial reward: fifteen million dollars, five million per target. Killing someone for five million dollars is no small feat, even for a top-notch assassination organization like the Brotherhood. Normally, a job like this would only fetch one or two million per person. But William, enraged and armed with plenty of dirty money, was out for blood. After all, Beckett, Castle, and Gavin were the ones responsible for his current downfall, so he was feeling particularly generous.

However, this sum of money turned into a huge headache for Sloan. Even though he knew the Brotherhood was facing significant problems, he didn't want to offend a sitting senator like William. So, he accepted the job, but now he was left wondering who to send to carry it out.

While Sloan was fretting, Castle was similarly caught in a dilemma of his own: what to do with the treasure.

When Gianna was still in New York, the treasure had been safely stored in the basement of her Long Island estate. With Gianna and John there, the estate's security was airtight. But now, Gianna was leaving to spend Christmas in Rome and would be staying home to rest afterward. Leaving the treasure there no longer seemed wise. Castle, despite his usual nonchalance, couldn't bring himself to ignore the billions in valuables sitting unprotected. So, today, he had come to Long Island for one important task: to move the treasure. Gianna had even prepared a container truck for him. The entire treasure, including the remaining forty tons of gold bars stamped with the Nazi eagle insignia, had been packed up. Mozzie had already driven Castle's Mercedes back to New York with the little guy, while Castle was driving the container truck alone on the highway, still mulling over whether to stash the treasure in his personal pocket dimension.

When he said his goodbyes to Gianna and John, Gianna had teased him, claiming that since meeting Castle, who treated money like dirt, she had become much more enlightened. She no longer felt the desire to claim the valuable treasure for herself—a true spiritual transformation!

Castle had been left embarrassed, awkwardly rushing out of Gianna's estate.

Now, driving towards the warehouse he had rented, Castle planned to transfer the treasure to his personal space there. He had already arranged with Gianna for two security teams from her training camp in Africa to arrive in New York after the New Year to protect his mother and daughter. As for his earlier whimsical idea of buying an estate on Long Island, Gianna had promised to have her estate's manager keep an eye out for any suitable properties for sale, notifying Castle immediately. All these actions were Castle's way of planning for the future.

With this in mind, he no longer felt so indifferent about the treasure. After all, the forty tons of gold alone were no small sum. They could provide significant help for his future plans.

Castle felt resigned. He was a naturally lazy person, and if circumstances hadn't forced him, he wouldn't be so busy now. But for Beckett's sake, he had no choice but to go head-to-head with William Bracken. Beckett and William were locked in an irreconcilable feud, and other opportunities, like his involvement with drone research and getting shares in Northrop Grumman, were all just coincidental.

Honestly, Castle still preferred a more peaceful life, like in his past existence. But after arriving in this new, yet strangely familiar world, he had let loose a little, which led to his current reputation as a troublemaker.

When Castle finally arrived at the warehouse where he had originally built his drone by hand, the familiar sight brought back memories. He suddenly remembered the promise he had made to Belle, the Queen of Taxis. He had agreed to bring her childhood sweetheart Zeus along to make a fortune together. After the last New York heist involving Simon, Zeus and Belle had disappeared somewhere with three gold bars. And now, Castle's recent idea seemed like the perfect opportunity to bring them back for help.

As Castle busied himself with these thoughts, he pulled the container truck into the warehouse, closed the door, and transferred the entire treasure into his personal dimension. He was just about to call Mozzie to ask where he and the little guy were when he received a call from his long-lost uncle, Winston, the owner of the New York Continental Hotel.

"Rick, where are you? Can you come to see me? I have something important to discuss with you." Winston's serious tone made it clear that this was something urgent.

Castle knew that Winston never contacted him unless something significant was happening. This uncle of his had helped him and his family stay safe in New York, often behind the scenes. So, Castle dropped his usual carefree attitude and respectfully replied that he was in New York and could be at the Continental in half an hour if needed.

Winston, without acknowledging or dismissing Castle's response, simply said, "I'll be waiting in my office," before hanging up. Castle felt a little uneasy but figured there was no reason to rush home just yet, so he hailed a taxi and headed to the New York Continental Hotel.

Arriving at the hotel, Castle found Winston's assistant, Karon, already waiting for him at the entrance. As Castle got out of the cab, Karon hurried over to greet him. "Mr. Castle, Mr. Winston is waiting for you in his office. Please follow me."

Castle stepped out of Winston's private elevator and into his office, where the suave middle-aged man was sitting on a couch, reading a book. Seeing Castle enter, Winston put the book down and looked at his troublesome nephew with a mix of frustration and helplessness. "Rick, can't you live a quiet life? Do you realize that your name has come up in every major incident in New York lately?"

Castle couldn't help but laugh. "Uncle Winston, what are you talking about?"

Seeing that Castle was still clueless about the impending trouble, Winston was exasperated. If this were his own son, he would've shot him in the leg long ago to stop him from constantly stirring up trouble. But Castle had a good father, and that man had done Winston a huge favor. Damn it, repaying debts of gratitude is always the hardest!

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