A/N: So, I'm guessing that just about everyone has given up on this fic ever getting finished. Nevertheless, after two job changes, three relocations, and a cardiothoracic surgery that resulted in a major stroke - which required about six months of inpatient and outpatient rehab through the summer of 2018 - I have resolved to complete the thing this month. So, buckle up, loyal readers; The Abyss Gazes Also is about to reach its dramatic conclusion!

Disclaimer: Not my world, just my words.

Cassie Westrom hangs up the phone.

Well, that makes it eight.

Almost everyone she once worked with at Sterling is now excited about a new startup in the online trading space. She's more than a little curious, herself. She wonders if her husband Michael might've gotten a job offer from them if he were still alive. She thinks about the package he'd left for her with his attorney before he died.

She thinks maybe someone might be interested in what's in that package.

"You weren't kidding, Steve. This guy is spooky."

"I know, right? He just soaks the stuff up, doesn't he?"

"What gets me, is he never seems to forget anything. I ask him to demo techniques I taught him five or six weeks ago, and he still has them down pat. It's like nothing degrades. How long did you say you've been working with him?"

"Since late last spring. He's been like this the whole time."

"That's... impressive."

They both pause a moment, watching Rick run through a sequence of techniques that Emily has spent her last two sessions teaching him. He executes them with both blinding speed and amazing precision. When he finishes, Steve gives a low whistle and briefly applauds; Emily steps forward, lays her hand on Rick's shoulder, and gives him a brief tip:

"Well done, Rick, very well done, indeed. Just a bit of advice: don't pull the strike when you swing the stick. If you do that, you may pick up a bad habit. You might find yourself pulling your strikes when you get into combat. Just let yourself follow through a few degrees on each swing, so when the time comes, you will actually strike the target you're aiming for and do some damage instead of pulling up short and just giving them a brief tap. Make sense?"

Rick nods briefly, and Emily pats him on the shoulder, nods in reply, and tells him "go again!"

Rick takes a quick breather, then turns and retraces his steps to the starting point. He initiates the sequence again, following Emily's advice and following through slightly on each swing of the club. When he completes the sequence about 80 seconds later, both Steven and Emily break out into applause.

"Good job, Rick! Now, run through that a few times after you and Steve finish up, and I'll see you again next Tuesday."

Rick gives her a brief smile and a wave as she heads out the door. When the door is closed, he turns to Steve.

"She really is a gem, Steve. How did you hook up with her?"

Steven smiles, shakes his head. "Martial arts is a small world, even in New York City, Rick. Word gets around."

Cassie Westrom picks up the phone. She pause briefly, weighing her options; finally, she settles on her friend Alexandra, and quickly dials her number.

Alexandra picks up on the third ring. "Alexandra Stephens, how can I help you?"

"Hi Alex, it's Cassie."

"Cassie, hi! What can I do for you?"

"You know that headhunter that's been calling around everyone from Sterling? Can you give me her number?"

"Sure, I've got it right here in my contacts. Gimme a sec..."

"I'll wait."

"Yeah here it is. Ready to write?"

"Sure am. Let me have it."

"The woman's name is Camila. Her number is four one five five five five zero one seven three."

"Got it. Thanks!"

"Not a problem, Cassie."

Cassie hangs up the phone, then pauses to collect her thoughts.

The day starts out as usual for Camila Oliviera Rodriguez; she rolls out of bed at about 7:30, grabs a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice for breakfast, then hops in the shower.

She finishes up the shower and dresses quickly in jeans and a T-shirt, rapidly brushes out her hair, ties it back in a ponytail, and heads out the door.

She's mentally running down the checklist of items she needs to report to Pierce Martin before she clocks in at her day job when her cell phone rings and her plans for the day get blown to hell. She fishes the phone out of her back pocket, pauses to smile, then answers "Camila Rodriguez, how can I help you?"

There is an audible pause on the other end of the line before the woman calling speaks up.

"You can help by telling me who you really are and why you're so interested in the people who used to work at Sterling Investments."

Shit. There goes the checklist.

"Rising above."

A few seconds after the door closes behind his mother,he hears the ping of an incoming email alert on his secure laptop in the top desk drawer. Rick startles, then quickly opens the drawer and withdraws the laptop, setting it on his desk and opening the email app.

The mail is from Pierce Martin, which confuses him for a moment because they normally communicate at night. Then he actually reads the subject line, "Jackpot! Call me immediately!" and grabs the burner cell from its perch in the charging cradle.

Pierce answers on the first ring. "Rick! You need to fly out here right now!"

"What? Why? What's going on?"

"Not gonna bury the lede, Rick. Your Sleestak is Senator Daniel Gossard. Now, book your flight and call me when you're heading for the airport; I'll give you more details then. But book the flight. I've got to have you out here! I'm gonna need your help to put this thing to bed."

Thirty-five minutes later, Castle is headed southeast on Spring Street, about to make the right onto Bowery as he heads for LaGuardia to catch his flight. He taps Pierce's contact and hits the dial icon. Again, Pierce picks up on the first ring.

Rick talks right over Pierce's greeting. "OK Pierce, tell me what happened."

"I got a call from Camila Rodriguez earlier this morning. She called to inform me that she had received a call from a woman named Cassie Westrom. The widow of the guy who died of ALS two years back."

"Alright, how exactly did that lead to this breakthrough?"

"Seems that when their medical bills outstripped their insurance coverage, her husband made a deal with a certain congressional candidate to launder his money through the Sterling Investments computer trading systems. She claims to have full documentation and historical records that describe the scheme. We're going to have to contact her and arrange to get that documentation from her. I figured you'd want to have a hand in that."

It takes every last shred of Rick's self-control not to simply whoop with joy. Got you now, you rancid sack of pig puke!

"You're goddamn right I want in on that!"

He's sitting in the waiting area for his flight at LaGuardia when his iPhone pings with an incoming text from Beckett:

Body drop on the set of A Night of Dance. You joining us?

He bites his lip as he considers how he should reply.

Can't. Book tour related issues on the West coast. Back in a few days. Keep me updated?

He holds his breath as he waits for her response.

OK. Won't be the same without your wild theories, but I'll keep you posted!

Satisfied (for the moment) that his deception has been successful, Rick again draws the burner cell from his inside jacket pocket and taps Pierce's contact. He means to get as much information from Pierce as he can before going radio silent for the duration of the flight to the Bay Area.

Once again, Pierce answers promptly with "OK Rick, what other questions can I answer?"

"I don't know, Pierce; what other questions can you answer?"

"Smart ass."

"Sorry man, but look: I'm just about to hop on a flight and turn my phone off for about six hours. I'd really like some useful info to chew on while I'm sitting still all that time, instead of just wasting time on the crossword. So why don't you give me as much detail as you actually have before I board?"

"OK, Rick, but I really don't know much more than I've already told you. I haven't seen her documentation yet; I just got her Cliff's Notes on the scheme over the phone. Something about working up a bunch of fake paper trading accounts and funneling the money through those into Gossard's account. She said it would make more sense once we saw the computer records and read her husband's write-up."

"I guess that will have to do for now. I'll research online trading and paper trading accounts on the flight, so hopefully I won't have to be brought up to speed on that stuff before I can understand the documentation, at least."

"Sounds like a plan..."

"OK, signing off."

"See you this afternoon, buddy."

"Yes, see you then."