Castle absentmindedly nibbled on his croissant, washing it down with soft-boiled eggs and milk. The meal was tasteless to him. He hadn't slept the night before, spending hours racking his brain, unable to figure out why spies or intelligence agencies would be targeting him and his daughter.
Jack had read almost all of Castle's works, and the only book remotely linked to espionage was the one where the protagonist had ties to the CIA—leading Castle to do research at Langley.
A soft knock came at the door. Jack opened it to find Brian, who had left in the middle of the night, standing there with a violin case slung over his back and two black duffel bags in hand.
"I don't know if this meets your standards, but it's the best I could get in France."
Jack flipped open the violin case. Inside was a disassembled AR-pattern rifle. At first glance, it looked like an SR-25, but the details were slightly different. It came with a SureFire suppressor and a 6×48mm scope.
"Uh..." Jack hesitated before asking, "British gear?"
Brian nodded. "L129A1. The British Army's designated marksman rifle."
A Russian pistol, a British rifle, an American agent, and a Chinese soul trapped in this body—all in Paris, up against some unknown group. They'd unintentionally gathered all five of the world's superpowers in one place.
Jack quickly inspected the rifle and was quite satisfied. It wasn't brand new, but it hadn't seen much use. The barrel's rifling was still in excellent condition, and there was barely any gunpowder residue—just the faint scent of gun oil. Still, he'd have to fire a few test shots to be completely sure.
"This is the ghillie suit and throat mic you asked for." Brian handed over the smaller duffel bag.
Jack opened it and found not only camouflage gear and communication equipment but also chocolate and an empty water bottle—thoughtful touches.
It wasn't even 6 AM yet. According to their plan, Jack, who was assigned to the sniper position, had to set up early. That meant lying in wait for nearly ten hours, completely still, like a real sniper.
Since they had no direct way to communicate with the kidnappers, there was little risk of a location change, making this their safest approach.
"The phone hasn't rung yet?" Brian's voice carried deep concern.
Jack shook his head helplessly. The anonymous phone left by the mysterious figure had been on the entire time, even with its location services enabled—yet still, nothing.
Brian's worry wasn't unfounded. If their theory was correct and Alexis and Castle were the true targets, then Kim had no value to the kidnappers. She was expendable.
Their only hope was that the kidnappers would bring Kim along for this exchange—or, ideally, both girls. But if only Alexis showed up, it likely meant Kim's fate had already been sealed.
"It'll be okay. We have to hold onto hope." Jack knew his words felt hollow, but all they could do was rely on Brian and Kim's protagonist plot armor.
Brian said nothing more. He opened the larger duffel bag, revealing three bulletproof vests neatly stacked on top of stacks of €500 bills.
Jack picked up one of the vests and strapped it on. He also flipped through a bundle of the euros—the counterfeiting was impressively realistic.
Despite the kidnappers giving them nearly a full day, there was no way Jack could conjure up €5 million in France without Chris. Castle and Brian could probably scrape together the sum if they pooled their resources, but they hadn't even brought their passports. The only way to get that much cash in France would be to rob an armored truck.
Luckily, they now knew the ransom was just a ruse. There was no need to stress over whether to hand over real money.
Brian, a retired agent with old contacts in Paris' underground, had not only secured weapons for Jack but also a batch of counterfeit bills.
"Keep an eye on that guy," Jack instructed, slinging the violin case over his shoulder and grabbing the duffel bag before heading out the door.
——
The Palace of Fontainebleau was one of France's largest royal palaces, set within a 170-square-kilometer forest on the left bank of the Seine. Used as a royal hunting retreat since the 12th century, it was about 60 kilometers from Paris.
However, the kidnappers' specified location wasn't actually near the palace—it was deep in the surrounding forest, far from the main site.
Jack drove a tiny Renault Twingo, a car barely more than a glorified golf cart, and scouted the area, pretending to be a lost tourist.
Seeing no signs of activity, he pushed the car into a roadside ditch, changed into his ghillie suit, and slipped into the forest. Not long after, a few faint noises disturbed the undergrowth, sending a flock of birds scattering.
At 3:30 PM, a black Mercedes X-Class pickup appeared at the end of the dirt road. Two burly men in black ski masks stepped out of the backseat, each armed with an MP5 submachine gun. They scanned the surroundings briefly before returning to the vehicle.
15 minutes later, Brian arrived in a rented Citroën C5, stopping as soon as he spotted the Mercedes.
Both vehicles remained still, separated by 40-50 meters, waiting.
Brian finally stepped out, followed by Castle, who clutched a large duffel bag filled with fake cash. They moved to the front of the car.
The Mercedes' doors opened again—this time, four masked men stepped out, all carrying MP5s. Moving in pairs, they crouched low as they cautiously approached.
Castle fought the urge to press his earpiece. His lips moved slightly as he whispered, "This isn't right. Where's Alexis?"
"Shut up. Stick to the plan." Jack's voice was barely audible, more a growl in his throat than actual words.
"Where are our daughters?" Castle demanded, dropping the bag and unzipping it to reveal the stacks of cash before quickly stepping back toward the car.
The four gunmen remained silent, closing the distance until they were less than 10 meters away.
"Only the two of you?" The leader pulled out two photos, glancing between them and Castle and Brian, as if verifying their identities.
Castle nodded frantically. "Yes, just us."
"Richard Castle? And you?" The leader pointed his gun at Brian.
"Brian Mills. Father of the other girl." Brian's voice was gruffer than ever. "The money's here. We just want our daughters."
"Hands on your heads. Kneel." The leader tilted his head slightly, and the other two gunmen stepped forward, pressing their weapons against Castle and Brian's skulls, forcing them down.
"We just want our daughters!" Castle suddenly found an unexpected burst of courage and shouted.
"Heh. You'll see them in hell." The leader sneered and nodded at the executioners.
Then—silence.
The forest, once filled with birds and rustling leaves, went eerily still. A single yellow oak leaf drifted from the treetops—then exploded into dust as two silent bullets tore through it.
No gunfire. Just the faint scream of air being split apart.
Both executioners dropped instantly, blood mist spraying from their skulls.
At the same moment, Brian's Viper pistol flicked into his palm. He pulled the trigger—bang—another gunman collapsed, dead before he hit the ground.
The leader, still frozen in shock, realized he was alone.
Panic surged in his gut. He instinctively raised his MP5, but before he could even aim—
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Brian had already fired.
______
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