American TV Writer

When Beckett asked her question, Castle, who had already made up his mind to visit Sloan that evening, immediately put on a feigned expression of vulnerability: "I'm not feeling quite settled right now. If possible, can I come to the precinct tomorrow for the statement?"

Beckett, thinking Castle was truly shaken by having killed yet another assassin so violently, asked with concern: "Are you okay? I noticed you've been acting off ever since you shot those two assassins a while back, and now, after such a bloody scene, it must be affecting you even more.

How about I arrange for some time off and come home to be with you?"

Castle was startled, thinking, *If you come home with me, how am I supposed to rush over to New Jersey tonight to deal with that old bastard Sloan?* He quickly adopted a serious tone: "It's just that I'm sick of Senator William Bracken's relentless schemes, always hiding and never giving up. I'm fine, really. You should head to the precinct and report today's events to the higher-ups. They need to know that Bracken has gone completely off the rails!

From my perspective, this guy might have more plans up his sleeve. You should suggest to the DA and the Justice Department to step up surveillance on William Bracken, just in case he tries anything else!"

Beckett knew Castle's suggestion was spot on, and as the precinct chief in charge of the district, she couldn't really justify going home with him. The truth was, she needed to clean up the mess Castle had made with his "big show." So, after advising Castle to go home and rest, to calm down after killing someone, she turned and started directing her officers to wrap up the scene quickly. They didn't want the ever-persistent New York journalists swarming in.

This was a critical time in the investigation into Senator William Bracken. Beckett and Castle, being the ones leading the charge in exposing Bracken's criminal activities, couldn't afford to have the press catch wind of how they had lured and killed an assassin today.

Esposito and Ryan stood nearby, giving Castle approving nods and exaggerated winks as he turned to leave. The HK-416, which Castle had unloaded dozens of rounds from, had already been taken as evidence. As Castle walked away, he thought to himself, *It's a good thing I've got plenty of money, or I'd be pissed every time the police took one of my guns as evidence.* Losing a fully equipped HK-416 every time he took out an assassin? That would be financially unsustainable for anyone else!

After greeting Esposito and Ryan with a friendly wave, Castle finally exited Central Park. As he strolled out, every police officer who spotted him warmly greeted him. They all knew full well that this guy had taken out three assassins in just the past few days—assassins who had been targeting both him and their beloved precinct chief, Beckett.

The scene at the precinct entrance a few days ago, when Castle had coolly shot and killed two assassins with just four rounds from his handgun, was still fresh in the minds of many officers who had witnessed it firsthand. While Castle hadn't been as violent back then, today's scene, where he had turned Central Park into a warzone reminiscent of the streets of Syria, earned him newfound respect from the force.

After warmly greeting each officer who acknowledged him, Castle left the park and got into the armored Dodge Beckett had given him. But instead of heading home, he turned the car towards the Continental Hotel, which he had visited earlier that day.

He planned to purchase some "heavy-duty toys"—maybe something like the "Cornflower" automatic mortar from Russia, or he could ask Winston if he had access to a rocket launcher. If that didn't pan out, even a few Chinese 107mm rockets would do the trick. Castle figured he would need at least ten rounds if he was going to properly "greet" Sloan that night.

When Castle confidently strolled back into the lobby of the Continental Hotel, where he had been just a few hours earlier, the always-dapper Garon, Winston's right-hand man, was taken aback. He quickly came forward to greet the notoriously unconventional writer: "Mr. Castle, is there something I can assist you with?"

Castle, making himself at home, cheerfully replied: "I heard from John that there's a position here called 'Bartender,' who's in charge of weapons? I'm here to pick up some gear, no need to bother Winston."

Garon, hesitant to make a decision on his own, responded politely: "Perhaps I should inform Mr. Winston? Please wait just a moment."

Seeing Castle nod in agreement, Garon quickly picked up the phone and dialed Winston: "Sir, Mr. Castle has returned and is currently in the lobby. He'd like to purchase some equipment from the 'Bartender.'"

Winston, who had been reviewing his accounts, sighed in frustration as he set down his ledger and removed his glasses, massaging his temples: "What is he up to now? Send him up to my office."

After hanging up the phone, Garon informed Castle: "Mr. Winston would like to see you in his office. He's waiting for you."

Already anticipating that Winston wouldn't let him freely play around with the hotel's resources, Castle smiled and, without waiting for Garon, headed to a hidden elevator in a corner of the lobby, which he expertly opened before going upstairs.

When Castle entered Winston's office, he found the hotel manager standing by the sofa, looking at him with a mixture of exasperation and amusement: "Rick, what are you planning now? Why do you suddenly need more equipment?"

With a playful grin, Castle explained how he had just encountered and killed a Brotherhood of Assassins gunsmith, sent to kill him. He then casually mentioned that he was looking to buy some high-powered weaponry to pay a personal visit to Sloan's hideout in New Jersey that night.

Winston, stunned by Castle's nonchalant recounting of events, was shocked. He had only just warned Castle about the Brotherhood's potential assassination attempts, and Castle had already dealt with one? And not just survived but effortlessly killed the assassin? What was even more surprising was that Castle already knew the assassin's codename. How could anyone be this capable?

But what really floored Winston was Castle's plan to take the fight directly to the Brotherhood's doorstep. And the shopping list Castle had in mind? Mortars, rocket launchers? *Was this guy insane?* Using Russian military hardware on American soil? And all just to "greet" Sloan? If Winston gave in to this madness, tomorrow's headlines would be explosive, literally! Using military-grade weapons in New Jersey, right next to Manhattan? Was Castle trying to start a war?

Winston, sighing deeply—something he had been doing far too often lately, especially whenever Castle was involved—poured himself a strong drink, downed it in one gulp, and then addressed Castle, who was still eagerly awaiting his response: "Rick, there's no way I can give you something like the Cornflower. You have to understand, we're in the United States. New Jersey is right next to the economic heart of the country, New York. If I gave you that weapon and you actually used it, we'd both be in serious trouble.

Think about it—how would the bigwigs on Wall Street react to an automatic mortar attack happening right in their backyard? Do you want the FBI or Homeland Security to come after you like rabid dogs, digging into every secret you've ever tried to keep hidden?"

Castle, who had been daydreaming about giving Sloan a "grand surprise," was jolted back to reality. Winston's words had finally made him realize just how reckless his plan was. New Jersey was right next to New York; of course, he couldn't just use heavy military-grade weapons to bombard Sloan's hideout…

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