Hearing Mozzie's live updates through the earpiece, Castle knew time was running out. He believed Colonel Johnson's men would take their shot soon after Vice President Andrew shook hands with the African envoy. Johnson's team had rigged Bob Lee Swagger's sniper rifle, unknowingly connecting its standard scope to an automated targeting system and fire control computer. Once Bob lined up his sights on the African envoy standing next to the Vice President, thinking it was just a test, Johnson's men would fire.
The only question was whether there were any corrupt cops on Johnson's payroll who might arrive before anyone realized Swagger was being framed.
But even if there were, Castle wasn't worried. This was Beckett's jurisdiction. As long as no one inside the 12th Precinct was compromised, anyone showing up under the guise of law enforcement would only end up in the hands of Beckett and her officers. They'd have to explain themselves to the NYPD's internal affairs unit, which had already set up a tight perimeter around the building.
After confirming his plan was airtight and hearing that the Vice President and the African envoy were about to take the stage, Castle briefed the officers on why he and Beckett had stationed Esposito and the others in the alley outside the building.
As expected, the officers were furious when they learned CIA operatives were trying to stir up trouble in their precinct, plotting to assassinate the Vice President in a move that would grab national attention.
"Damn CIA. It's bad enough they mess around the world; now they're pulling this in our backyard? Do they think we're pushovers? They need a reality check."
Castle didn't bother explaining the political conflict behind all this. There was no time. Mozzie's urgent call came through his earpiece—"The African envoy's on stage. You've got less than three minutes before he shakes hands with the VP."
With that, Castle handed control over to Beckett. Earlier, he and Ryan had scouted the area and confirmed that, to avoid arousing Bob Lee Swagger's suspicion, Johnson's men hadn't stationed any lookouts in the hallways. Confident in their plan and knowing they had a fall guy downstairs, they had gathered in the room directly above Bob, waiting for him to aim before taking their shot. This gave Beckett and her 12 officers ample time to slip upstairs without attracting attention.
A handful of officers remained downstairs to block the exits, ensuring no one could escape or that any corrupt cops couldn't intervene.
Castle, meanwhile, didn't join Beckett. Instead, he leisurely strolled to the hallway outside Bob Lee Swagger's hiding spot, casually leaning against the wall, ready to surprise the sniper when he emerged.
It didn't take long. The moment Castle heard the loud crack of a gunshot from upstairs, he smiled. He didn't need to worry about what happened next. If Beckett, with 12 officers armed to the teeth with FN SCAR automatic rifles and M1014 shotguns for breaching doors, couldn't handle Johnson's men, then she wouldn't be Beckett. Castle's only concern now was the imminent arrival of Bob.
Sure enough, Bob Lee Swagger, the former Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant, immediately sprang up from his sniper position. His extensive experience told him he had walked right into another trap. The shot had come from directly above him, and it sounded like the same model of sniper rifle he was holding. It didn't take much to figure out what the CIA operatives were up to. He had been set up to take the fall for an assassination attempt on the Vice President.
With no time to waste, Bob charged out of the room, expecting to be met by a swarm of police or federal agents. To his surprise, there was no one—just a smiling, greasy-looking middle-aged man in a tailored suit, casually leaning against the wall.
"Bob, don't panic," Castle said, raising his hands to show he was unarmed. "I know you're innocent. The guys upstairs trying to frame you are currently surrounded by NYPD officers. Just calm down…"
Castle quickly explained, "We know you were tricked by a CIA officer named Johnson. He fed you a pack of lies to make you the fall guy for an assassination attempt on the Vice President. But we're onto them. That's why I'm here. First, to clear your name, and second, to ask for your help."
Bob Lee Swagger's instincts, honed by years of experience, told him Castle wasn't lying. Still, the man's smug smile was off-putting. But that was a minor issue compared to the bigger problem—should he trust this guy?
While Castle continued explaining himself, Beckett's team made their move. At her signal, Esposito blasted open the door to Johnson's men's room with his M1014 shotgun.
The 12 officers stormed in with their automatic rifles raised, catching the five men inside completely off-guard. Johnson's right-hand man, a guy with a thin mustache, had been directing the cleanup after the shot was fired. He hadn't expected the NYPD to break in just a minute after the trigger was pulled.
As the five men scrambled in confusion, Beckett's officers didn't hesitate. Each suspect was immediately covered by two armed officers, guns trained on them, leaving the men with no time or means to resist.
Esposito grinned, knowing they had just pulled off one of the biggest busts of the year. This assassination attempt would soon be all over the news, and their precinct had caught the perpetrators within seconds of the shot being fired. The sniper rifle was still warm. The NYPD would make headlines for this one.
"NYPD! Hands in the air, don't move!" Esposito barked, his voice echoing through the room. "You're under arrest for planning and carrying out the assassination attempt on Vice President Andrew."
Beckett, her face icy cold, stepped into the room once her team had secured the suspects. "Do I even need to ask what you thought you were doing? Anyone with eyes can see the truth. I have to say, gentlemen, you've got guts. Plotting to assassinate the Vice President?"
Looking at the scene before her, she added, "We caught you red-handed. I'd say you're facing at least 30 years in prison."
The mustached man remained surprisingly calm. "We're CIA agents. I can explain—"
"Explain?" Beckett interrupted, a mocking smile on her face. "Explain how the CIA plotted and carried out an assassination attempt on the Vice President right here in New York? Or maybe you want to explain how that shot wasn't fired by you, but by Bob Lee Swagger, the former Marine Gunnery Sergeant you duped into coming here from the mountains of Montana?
Do you think I'm an idiot? I have over a dozen witnesses who saw the shot come from this room, from that rifle. So, tell me—how did Swagger, who's downstairs, manage to fire a shot from here, right under your noses?
And don't think I don't know what kind of sniper rifle that is—a 'CheyTac Intervention' with an automatic targeting system and fire control computer."
The mustached man's confidence faded as Beckett laid out her knowledge of their plan. They had been exposed. Not only did the NYPD know exactly who Bob Lee Swagger was, but they also knew about the setup, and now they were caught, along with the rifle that had just killed the African envoy.
It was clear now—they had no way to argue their way out of this. Their only hope lay with their boss, Senator Charles Haan of Montana, and Colonel Johnson. Would they be able to bail them out of this mess?
------------------
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