Page 120 of Until the End

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.”