As Beckett led her officers in the raid against Vice President Andrew's men in Queens, a small, dust-covered car pulled into an alley near the Continental Hotel in New York. Marvin parked the car in the secluded, empty alley and turned to Frank Moses, who sat beside him. "Are you sure you want to meet this Winston guy? We don't even know if we can trust him anymore.
What if something happens when you go in there alone? How about I come with you? Let Victoria stay with your girlfriend in the car," he suggested.
Frank, the bald-headed leader, reassured his concerned partner Sarah, refusing her request to join him in entering the Continental, a hotel that, in Castle's previous life, was just a restaurant on Wall Street but was now the famous New York branch of the Continental Hotel. The owner of the hotel, Winston, had acquired it thanks to Frank and his former commanding officer, Sean, years ago. So Frank wasn't too worried about encountering danger inside. He didn't want Marvin with him because, frankly, Marvin was a bit of a loose cannon.
He also didn't let Sarah join him because, as a seasoned ex-operative, Frank knew better than to put all his eggs in one basket. That's why, upon arriving in New York, they hadn't immediately gone to the safe house Castle had prepared for them. Frank's old Cold War instincts, honed from outsmarting KGB operatives, told him never to trust anyone unconditionally. Though he knew the attack on him wasn't orchestrated by Vice President Andrew to eliminate people aware of his dark past, it didn't mean Andrew hadn't thought about it or wouldn't act on it in the future. So, keeping a backup plan was just common sense.
Frank's purpose in coming to the Continental was simple—he needed help. In addition to the safe house Castle had arranged, Frank wanted to establish a few safe houses of his own. Winston, who owed him a huge favor, was a perfect ally to call upon in this situation.
After laying out contingency plans with Marvin and Victoria in case things went south, Frank Moses stepped out of the car and walked alone toward the famous Continental Hotel. The doorman, ever courteous, opened the door for him as Frank entered the hotel for the first time in over thirty years. The last time he had been here was during the Cold War, when he and his commander, Sean, had helped Winston secure ownership of the hotel. Now, more than three decades later, the once-mighty Soviet Bear had fallen, but to Frank's surprise, the hotel's décor hadn't changed at all since his last visit.
Could it be that Winston had never bothered to renovate in all these years? Frank found that hard to believe—Winston certainly had the money. Was his sense of style really this outdated?
Before Frank could dwell on the thought, the sharp-eyed concierge, Caron, noticed him. Even though Frank was dressed in simple clothing, his imposing presence was unmistakable, especially with his bald head gleaming under the lobby's lights like a beacon.
Though Caron was certain he had never seen this man before, he wasted no time in stepping forward. "Good evening, sir. Welcome to the Continental Hotel, New York. How may I assist you?"
Without a hint of expression, Frank replied, "I'm here to see Winston. Just tell him Frank Moses is here."
Caron, ever the professional, nodded slightly, showcasing the impeccable etiquette of a top-tier concierge. "Very well, sir. Please wait a moment while I notify Mr. Winston."
He then picked up the phone and called Winston, who was sitting in his office reviewing the hotel's accounts. Upon hearing that Frank Moses had arrived, Winston was so stunned he nearly rushed downstairs himself. This was a real big shot—someone Winston owed a huge debt to. Back in the day, Winston had only secured ownership of the Continental thanks to Frank and Sean's assistance during their mission in North Africa. Without them, he would never have had the strength to fight off his powerful enemies. So, upon learning that Frank was here, Winston immediately instructed Caron to treat him as the highest-level guest and to bring him up right away.
Frank was soon escorted upstairs by Caron in Winston's private elevator. Whatever was discussed between Frank and Winston in Winston's office remained a mystery, but not long afterward, Frank left alone and returned to the alley where Marvin, Victoria, and Sarah were waiting. The group then headed to the safe house Castle had prepared for them.
It wasn't until they were back in the car, driving through the city, that Frank finally spoke up. "Who would've thought Sean's son is such a big deal? The kid not only has a good thing going in this city, but he's also dating a young police officer, who happens to be the youngest precinct captain in the NYPD. And get this—there was an assassination attempt on Vice President Andrew earlier today, and within five minutes of the shots being fired, that police captain led her team to apprehend the suspects on the spot. Those fools were even carrying CIA credentials! Can you believe it?
The CIA's really going downhill. Just recently, their entire European division was thrown into chaos by some kid named Jason Bourne, and now this mess? Pathetic."
As Marvin tuned the car's radio to catch the latest news, sure enough, he found a station discussing the incident, mocking the CIA with sharp sarcasm. While listening, Marvin casually asked, "So, why are we heading to the safe house Sean's kid set up? You're sure this kid's on the level?"
Frank, seated in the passenger seat, turned to face Sarah in the back, who was looking at him with curiosity. He explained, "Winston gave me a few addresses for safe houses, but he also suggested I check out the one Castle set up for us. Apparently, this kid—who's a writer, by the way—is no ordinary guy. Winston hinted that Sean's son is quite the troublemaker. Let's go check it out. After all, if we can't trust Sean's kid, who can we trust?"
Marvin muttered under his breath, "It's not that I don't trust the old man; I just find it hard to believe his son is this capable…"
Top-tier operatives aren't just born—they're made through years of experience. Despite having spent years hiding out in the swamps of Florida, Marvin still managed to navigate the streets of New York without much trouble. He drove them straight to the address Castle had texted, reaching the safe house without taking any detours.
As usual, Marvin parked the car in a nearby alley, but this time, both he and Frank entered the safe house to check it out. Since Marvin was an expert at disarming explosives, he and Frank took the lead in inspecting the security measures.
After a thorough sweep, they signaled to Victoria and Sarah that it was safe. Frank personally went outside to bring them in, while Marvin, down in the basement, was going wild at the sight of the massive stockpile of weapons Castle had prepared for them.
"Holy crap! Is this kid really a writer, or is he an arms dealer? Look at this—cases of automatic rifles, even two .50 caliber heavy machine guns, one NATO and one Warsaw Pact model. And look at the ammo—they've got three full crates for each gun. What's the plan here, to arm us to the teeth?"
Marvin excitedly shouted to the others as they walked down to the basement. Even Victoria, usually calm and collected, was surprised. "Frank, did you say this was all set up by that writer?"
Frank, rubbing his temples as he stared at the arsenal, sighed, "Looks like I'll need to call this kid and figure out what's going on. I was going to talk to him anyway—Winston told me earlier that if we really want to understand what's happening, we should speak to Castle directly."
Marvin didn't hold back. "Then what are you waiting for? We've got plenty of gear here. Even if an entire platoon showed up, I wouldn't be worried. Go talk to the kid already—we need to figure out the lay of the land and the power dynamics before we make any moves!"
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