Chapter 1202: A Conversation in the Backyard (Part Two)

After Jack briefly explained how he and the NYPD Commissioner had teamed up to eliminate the “Blue Templar” police gang back then, the three NYPD officers present all wore expressions of shock.

Even Castle had a “so that’s why” look on his face. “No wonder when we interrogated Gary McAllister, he had this righteous, unflinching attitude. Oh, right, he was John Lagrange’s old partner back in the day. That sly old guy even gave us false leads on purpose when we first found him, trying to mislead our investigation.”

Seeing him veering off-topic again, Jack had to knock on the table, signaling for him to get back to the point. “What did they do nineteen years ago?”

“Double-crossed the bad guys,” Beckett summarized succinctly. “Back then, there were five major gangs running rampant in New York, so they adopted a brutal approach, kidnapping key gang members under the guise of justice. After holding them for a while, they’d extort large ransoms.

But one operation went wrong. Lagrange and McAllister, along with a rookie cop, tried to abduct a gang member named Joe Bugatti in the back alley of a club called ‘Sons of Palermo.’”

“‘Sons of Palermo’ was a known gang hotspot at the time,” Castle helpfully interjected.

Beckett continued, “While they were trying to snatch Joe Bugatti, an undercover FBI agent named Bob Arman tried to stop the abduction. In the ensuing chaos, he was accidentally shot and killed by one of the dirty cops. Joe Bugatti, who should’ve been the victim, got framed, beaten into a confession, and thrown in prison.”

By this point, Jack had more or less pieced the whole thing together. “Then years later—around seven or eight years after that incident—Beckett’s mother, a civil rights attorney, heard about the Bob Arman wrongful conviction and began investigating.

Then, about ten years ago, just as she was about to uncover the truth, she was silenced—murdered in the same back alley of the Sons of Palermo club. The other three people who knew about it were eliminated as well, and the court files disappeared.

The hitman responsible was likely the same guy Beckett shot six months ago—Dick Coonan, aka the professional killer known as Rathborne.”

Seeing the others nod repeatedly, Jack waved his hand. “No, that doesn’t add up. Lagrange and McAllister were just small-time detectives. Even if they made big money off those ransom schemes—say, a few million, maybe ten million dollars—sure, that’s enough to hire a hitman. But to erase all the evidence, vanish a court case file, cover up multiple murders over years? That’s way beyond their league.

They must’ve had someone above them—a puppet master. When he found out Lagrange had contacted Beckett, he hired that pro, Hal Lockwood, to take him out remotely at the café.”

“That’s what we thought too,” Castle said, looking rather proud of his conclusion. “After we talked to Joe Bugatti, who’s been locked up for nearly 20 years, we went back to see Gary McAllister. That old bastard confessed to everything, including the botched kidnapping and the accidental killing. But when we pressed him about the man behind it all, he clammed up. He’d rather go to prison than say another word.”

Jack sighed. “Don’t tell me you guys just sent him off to jail and then turned around to catch the hitman Hal Lockwood? You seriously thought prying open a pro assassin’s mouth would be easier than flipping an old crooked cop?”

“Uh, actually, Kevin and Esposito had already tracked Lockwood down by then, and, well… things got complicated.” Castle tried to salvage the duo’s dignity.

“No, that doesn’t matter. Whatever happened, you did catch Lockwood. But clearly, neither he nor Gary McAllister ever talked, right?”

That remark was met with an awkward silence. One stared up at the sky, another drank silently, one just fixated on the dish of peanuts, while Beckett sat staring blankly at the backyard vegetable patch.

After a long pause, Castle finally continued in a whisper, “Not only that… a few days ago, Hal Lockwood killed Gary McAllister in prison.”

“How the hell did that happen?” Jack looked like he’d just heard a fairy tale. “Lockwood is a professional hitman. How could you people be dumb enough to put him in the same prison—hell, even the same block—as your key witness Gary McAllister?”

“That was my fault,” Beckett said, full of regret. “I had Lockwood assigned to solitary confinement, but someone forged a transfer order, and a few days later he was sent to the general population.”

Jack gave a sarcastic laugh and slowly looked over the three NYPD officers in front of him.

“What’s wrong with all of you? Two professional assassins—one kills a source in public, the other tortures Kevin and Esposito nearly to death—and all of that still wasn’t enough to convince you how serious this is?

And you’re still following procedure? Should I put in a request to Commissioner Reagan to give you guys medals?”

Castle looked like he was about to explain, but Jack cut him off before he could speak.

“Do you remember what we did when Alexis was kidnapped? Was it only because we were in Paris and not on home turf that we ignored the rulebook?”

“But back then, things hadn’t escalated to—” Castle began, only to be cut off again by Jack’s raised voice.

“Right. Lockwood executed John Lagrange right in front of you and Beckett, set a trap that nearly got Kevin and Esposito killed, and clearly didn’t care that they were NYPD. And you still thought this wasn’t serious enough?”

Jack felt like his blood pressure was about to spike. It was like these guys had all been hit with some kind of stupidity ray while he was gone.

The enemy clearly had no intention of playing by the rules, and yet these people were still rigidly sticking to official procedures.

Jack didn’t even bother sipping out of the small liquor cups anymore. He switched to his regular whiskey glass and even went back into the kitchen to get some ice from the fridge.

“So, the reason this mysterious puppet master never made a move on Detective Beckett was because of Captain Montgomery’s protection, right? Don’t tell me… he was the rookie cop who was with Lagrange and McAllister during that botched operation?”

Jack quickly did the math—age, years of service—it all lined up.