[Castle] Ch: 74 [Secret meeting with Castle] (Patreon)

[A Few Days Later]

[The Old Haunt]

The last few customers were still downstairs when Castle slipped through the staff hallway and climbed the narrow staircase toward Travis's office. Music from the bar followed him faintly through the floor, mixed with glasses clinking and the low murmur of conversation.

Travis had specifically asked him to come alone after work, which naturally meant Castle had spent most of the afternoon imagining increasingly dramatic reasons for the secrecy.

By the time he entered the office, international espionage was already somewhere on the list.

Travis sat behind the old wooden desk with his jacket hanging over the back of his chair. He had poured himself coffee instead of anything from the bar, while several business invoices remained pushed toward one side.

Castle closed the door and looked around suspiciously. "You know, when a guy requests a clandestine rendezvous in a dimly lit bar office after hours, I usually assume I'm either being blackmailed by the mob or inducted into the Illuminati. Please tell me it's the Illuminati. I look fantastic in robes."

Travis pointed toward the chair opposite him. “Sit down before your imagination creates paperwork for both of us.”

Castle took the chair and leaned forward immediately. "I'm noting for the record that you didn't explicitly deny the Illuminati."

Travis ignored him and reached into the deep drawer on the right side of his desk. He pulled out two long wooden presentation boxes and placed them carefully between them.

Castle's amusement disappeared almost immediately.

The boxes alone looked expensive. Dark polished wood covered both, with brass hinges and old-fashioned clasps that made them look more like museum pieces than alcohol packaging.

Castle leaned closer. “Alright, I'll bite. What exactly are you hiding under the W-2s? Smuggled diamonds? A cursed pirate amulet?"

"See for yourself."

Castle looked toward Travis before reaching for the first box. He released the clasp and slowly lifted the lid. Then he took a large gulp. His eyes widened as he stared at the bottle resting securely inside the fitted interior.

The label carried a name Castle recognized instantly.

The Macallan 1926.

For several seconds, he simply stared while his brain caught up with what his eyes were showing him. Then he turned toward the second box and opened it more carefully than the first.

His reaction was even stronger.

He swallowed again, visibly harder this time, before looking from the bottle toward Travis and then back toward the bottle.

"The Dalmore 64 Trinitas..." Castle whispered. "...mother of pearl."

Travis leaned comfortably against his chair. “Yep.”

Castle looked back toward the Macallan and carefully lowered both hands onto his knees, apparently deciding that touching either bottle again without written permission might constitute a felony.

"Travis. You have a Macallan 1926 from Cask 263. Sitting next to a stapler. Inside The Old Haunt."

“Don't worry. I got a special storage room for them.”

Castle's eyes moved toward him. "Do you have any concept of what you're in the presence of?"

Travis gave him an amused look. "Seeing as I brought you here to help me sell them, I'm gonna go with a solid 'yes'."

Castle pointed toward the bottle without getting particularly close. "Travis, only forty bottles were ever yielded from Cask 263. It's the Holy Grail of Scotch! Depending on the provenance and which eccentric tech billionaire is currently having a midlife crisis, this bottle is worth north of half a million dollars. Easy."

Travis nodded calmly. "That's the ballpark I was given, yeah."

Castle stared at him like that response had personally offended him. "You just said that with the exact same emotional cadence you'd use to order a side of fries."

"The shock wore off around Tuesday."

Castle slowly turned toward the second bottle. "And this... this is arguably even more insane. There were only three bottles of the Trinitas ever produced. Three!"

Travis raised one finger. “I have two.”

Castle's head turned toward him with remarkable speed. "I'm sorry, you have two?"

"Two." Travis tapped the desk drawer. "I'm holding onto the other one."

Castle stared at him.

"Saving it for a rainy day."

Castle pressed one hand against his chest. "Travis, opening that bottle is the rainy day! It's a meteorological event!"

"I'll keep that in mind."

Castle looked between the two open boxes again before narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "Okay. Why exactly am I here? I'm a writer, not a sommelier."

Travis leaned forward and rested his forearms against the desk. "I need to auction these two."

Castle blinked once. “Both of them?”

“The Macallan and one Trinitas,” Travis replied. “I don't run in circles that casually drop a million bucks on liquor. If I put this in a standard auction, some frat guy with a trust fund is going to mix it with Diet Coke.”

Castle slowly nodded as the request began making sense.

Travis continued while gesturing toward the bottles. “You know collectors, publishers, wealthy idiots, less idiotic wealthy people, auction houses, investors, and probably three billionaires who owe you favors because you signed books for their wives.”

Castle looked mildly offended. “I'll have you know my network is vastly more sophisticated than 'wealthy idiots' wives.' But... point taken."

“Great, then use your sophisticated network.”

Castle studied the bottles again, already thinking through names. "For something this high-end, we need the big guns. Authentication, chain of custody, insured transport in an armored vehicle, and a premier auction house... preferably Sotheby's or Christie's- to whip up a private bidding war before it even hits the floor."

"Music to my ears."

Castle's expression began shifting from disbelief toward excitement. "Assuming the provenance is ironclad, I can make a call to a guy I know. Top-tier spirits broker. Once I tell him what you're sitting on, his head will explode, and then he'll start dialing Russian oligarchs before we even sign the contract."

Travis smiled. “That's why you're here.”

Castle rubbed both hands together while looking toward the Macallan again. "You know, watching billionaires engage in a polite, bloodthirsty bidding war over ultra-rare scotch is honestly one of my favorite spectator sports."

"I figured it'd be right up your alley."

Travis reached toward the drawer again.

Castle noticed immediately. “There's more?”

Travis pulled out a third wooden box and placed it beside the other two.

Castle's excitement turned into suspicion.

Travis slid the box toward him. "This one's yours."

Castle stared at the box before slowly looking toward Travis. "What do you mean, 'yours'?"

“Open it.”

Castle carefully opened it and froze again. Inside rested another bottle of The Macallan 1926. He didn't move for several seconds. He looked up at Travis. Then back toward the bottle. Then toward Travis again.

"You have got to be kidding me," Castle breathed. "You're giving me a Macallan 1926?"

Travis casually reached toward the box. "Hey, if it's too much, I can just slide it right back in the drawer and..."

Castle's hand shot forward and landed firmly against the side of the box before Travis could move it an inch. He cleared his throat and immediately regained as much dignity as possible.

"What's the catch? What do you want?" He asked.

Travis stopped reaching and gave him an amused look. "I literally just told you."

Castle kept one protective hand against the box. "Nobody hands over half a million dollars of fermented grain just to get an introduction to an auctioneer."

“Apparently I do.”

Castle narrowed his eyes. “There's always a catch.”

Travis leaned back and thought about it for a moment. "The catch is you handle the headache. Find the broker, set the meeting, I'll hand over the provenance. We sign on the dotted line, sit back in a leather chair, and watch rich people financially disembowel each other over Scotch."

Castle waited.

Travis spread his hands. "That's the extent of my evil master plan."

Castle's suspicion remained. "So no dead bodies? No CIA black sites? No rogue cartels, no cursed pirate treasure, and absolutely nothing that requires me to lie to Beckett?"

“Nothing involving any of those things.”

Castle looked down at his bottle again. “Then why the extravagant gift?"

Travis smiled slightly. "Happy belated birthday. I know, you didn't celebrate this year because of that incident and... well, looking forward to the next one."

Castle remained quiet for several seconds, clearly struggling between gratitude and the instinctive belief that no sane human being casually gave away something this valuable. Eventually, he placed both hands around the presentation box and pulled it several inches closer to his side of the desk.

"I just want it on the record that I did not, at any point, refuse this."

Travis laughed. "You practically dove across the desk for it."

"I was securing a culturally significant artifact from an unpredictable detective!"

“You're welcome, Castle.”

Castle looked at the bottle again before a delighted smile slowly spread across his face. "You do realize the seal on this is never, ever being broken, right?"

Travis raised an eyebrow. "Then what's the fun in having it?"

"The fun is the agonizing temptation! Knowing I could open it, but choosing to bask in my own extraordinary self-restraint."

"You're just gonna display it and brag to anyone who walks through your door."

“Obviously,” Castle replied while gently closing the lid. "I'm already visualizing the track lighting. It needs to be dramatic but understated."

Travis shook his head as Castle carefully pulled his gift closer. "You know, parading that around is a fantastic way to get robbed, right? Or, shot, depending on your luck. Wealth like that makes people crazy. And I would really hate to have to investigate your murder. Plus, if I learned anything from... well, the explosion... it's that life is unpredictable. You never know when the clock runs out. Might as well actually drink the good stuff."

Castle understood what he meant. "Right. Okay. So, into the hidden wall safe it goes. And... maybe I'll uncork it for a very special occasion." He then looked toward the other two boxes and his smile became far more mischievous. "But first... let's go find some eccentric billionaires and make them financially bleed for our amusement."

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AN: Time to buy a house.