"I need everything the department has on Michael Wright."

John gave Agent Wright a quirked eyebrow, and as his brain ran through the possible motives and decided on the most probable, his face sunk and he sighed, running stubby fingers over his thinning hair.

"Sarah… You know I can't."

Her face tightened up and she adjusted her skirt with both hands, flattening out the creases as she bit her bottom lip, trying to think of a way to convince him. She knew she would have to play on John's humanity… or maybe his friendship. Otherwise there would be no way for her to convince the middle-aged man to break protocol so heavily and so blatantly. She let her eyes slide inwards a little and she pressed against his desk, trying to look a little intimidating. Her fingers found the surface of his desk, and her voice begged with him as a friend. Not a colleague. "John… please."

The man sighed again and shook his fat head. "I can't. Besides, this is an NYPD sanctioned investigation. Even if I had the authority to give you the files, it's out of your jurisdiction."

"I can make it in my jurisdiction." Sarah promised, her eyes lowering to show her seriousness. It did little to sway John, only frustrate him further. "John, I need this. You know as well as I do whose payroll half the NYPD-"

John's face became a dagger of anger and he lunged it forward, bringing his face close to Sarah's. "Stop. Stop right there." His dark eyes swallowed into seriousness and he waited a few seconds for Sarah's face to sink from its surprise. "This is not the place, nor the time to have this sort of conversation." His brows furrowed, "And you know that as well as I do."

"Then where?"

"My office. Four o'clock."

"Thank you." She pulled away from him and spun quickly with a sweep of her hair, moving briskly down the halls away from the cubicles and towards the holding cells without another word. She tried to contain herself, but as soon as the door closed behind her she sunk against the wall and exhaled sharply, her breath coming out in gasps.

John sat quietly for a long time, staring at the computer screen in front of him. He lowered his eyes and whispered something under his breath, wishing he could get a beer.

"Don't mention it, Sarah."

He sighed, "Please."

Detective Soap's life was miserable.

There was no denying it. Maybe he was born under an unlucky sign. Maybe his mother was cursed… or maybe his father's fish didn't swim downstream on the right side of the brook.

Or maybe he was just being pessimistic.

But really, Soap had a pretty easy gig. One would think being part of the Punisher Task Force would be a pretty shitty job, seeing in how nobody's been able to touch the guy unless he's wanted them to. And at first, for a while, it was. But that was a while ago. Soap had no reason to believe he'd ever take the Punisher in alive, but he figured as long as the department figured he was trying; they couldn't really do anything about it. He just wished…

The detective shifted the boxes filled to the top with file folders, documents and today's Daily Bugle with a relevant headline under his right arm, fumbling for the door handle with his left. The door had 'Soap' stenciled over the white-stained 'Janitor' that'd once occupied the space on the glass. Soap figured the last guy must've been ridiculed pretty heavily at school with a last name like that. Yeah, that was it. As always the little office was far too dark to see. He was sure that if he hadn't organized the ceiling-high stacks of boxes against the walls properly he would surely be hard-pressed to find his desk, and beyond that, the chain to trigger the light-

Like being slapped in the face with a white rubber glove, the lights in the room exploded on and Soap screamed, dropping everything in his arms all over the floor. The Punisher stood there, his hand still on the chain, with his eyes lowered into a condescending stare.

Soap clutched his chest and heaved, his face twisting into a frown.

"One of these days, Castle- You're going to be the death of me, I swear to Christ."

Castle let go of the chain and hunkered backwards, leaning on his desk with his arms crossed over his chest. While Soap gathered his belongings, he turned his face up into a scowl and waited a few seconds to ensure the detective was listening. "I need some information on the Vallanci's, Soap. I thought the Don was dead."

"Me too," Soap confessed, standing and brushing off the sleeve of his tan suit. "Considering you killed him."

"I did." Castle shot, his eyes falling into a frown. "But that doesn't explain why they attacked me last night."

"Where?"

"Central and third."

"Near the park?"

Castle's face turned into a tombstone and he cracked the knuckles on his right hand by balling a fist. "Yeah."

"Maybe one of the kids…?"

"His brother." Castle corrected after a short pause of thought, turned aside, and frowned at the prospect. About a month or so ago he'd cracked down on the Vallanci drug running operations at the city docks and in Hell's Kitchen. He'd killed Don Marcio and all of his lieutenants, but the job was far from finished. The Vallanci's habitually moved all of their equipment and manpower over from across the continent. Castle figured that even if the Hell's Kitchen operations were shut down, it would only be a matter of weeks before Julian Vallanci moved in and took over his brother's tombstone. Everything clicked together after a moment or two, but The Punisher found himself a little surprised at their tenacity. He didn't expect to have to lay down a second coat until the winter, at least. That meant Julian Vallanci just climbed to the very top of his list.

"Have you seen the papers lately?" Soap handed the folded newspaper to Castle.

"My subscription was lost in the mail." Castle remarked, turning his eyes aside.

"You'll want to pick up this one."

Castle took the paper from him without looking, letting his forefingers loosen to let the bottom fold uncoil.

The Punisher firebombs local Diner- Fifteen Dead

"Got a case of the munchies in your sleep again?" Soap joked, but his smart-assed smile was wiped away by a shooting glare from Castle. The detective swallowed hard. The Punisher tossed the paper back to Soap and pulled on the tail of his coat, reaching inside. After half a moment of awkward silence he spoke with a grave tone in his voice.

"You know anything about Malachi?"

Soap shrugged, "Sorry, I'm not Jewish."

Castle shot him a look.

"I've only heard the name. We don't even know if the guy's real or not. Nobody in the department'll touch him without proof."

The Punisher heaved his chest and turned his head aside, his face looking a little annoyed.

'That's a surprise.

Although I guess it shouldn't be. They don't have many donut shops on Central and Third.'

"I can't move in on the Vallanci's without knowing exactly what I'm dealing with, or else in three weeks we'll be right back where we started." Castle turned his jaw up a little and bowed his head. "I won't let that happen, Soap."

The Detective sighed and ran a sweaty hand across the back of his equally sweaty neck, mumbling something about 'duty' under his breath. "Alright, alright, I'll see what I can turn up." Soap shrugged, then began to ask "Any idea where to start?"

"The Vallanci's were trying to protect something in the basement of that diner. Drugs. The lethal kind. And a lot of it." The Punisher looked up at Soap, almost for his approval. "I think Malachi is their supplier."

"You're sure?"

"No." Castle said, standing up slowly and taking his baseball cap off the desk. He made his way towards the door, but stopped just before leaving, looking over his shoulder with a calm expression. "That's why I come to you, Soap." He turned his head aside, slipping his hat on. "Don't let me down." Without another word he turned, and pushed open the office door, disappearing into the hall, his hands jammed in his pockets.

Detective Martin Soap dropped down in his wheelie chair and spun around once, facing the ceiling.

"Yeah," He said to nobody in particular, "You can count on me, Frank."

Castle moved through the police station with his head lowered, eyes stern. Not that he needed to. Nobody on god's green earth would expect The Punisher to walk around in broad daylight, especially in the middle of a police station. Hiding in plain sight. It works.

'Malachi's hiding like a rat and I've only got a few places left that I haven't checked- but after that I've got a few creative ideas.

If Malachi is half the man the streets make him out to be, I've got a few things to work out before I can take him down. Have to play this one patient.

He's got a brain if he's smart enough to hide from me. And that makes him dangerous.'

Sarah slipped into the hallway, inhaled through her nose, straightened as tall as she could, fixed her hair- but not too much- then exhaled and took a step forward- bumping heavily into the tall, dark figure making his way down the hall. For a moment their eyes met, and she felt her stomach sink into the lower crevices of her body and her heart stopped for just a blink or two, sinking deep into those blue eyes. But just as quickly as it had come the eyes were gone, and he without so much as a flinch he was around the corner and out sight.

Sarah couldn't shake the feeling the man had given her. It almost seemed as if she should have recognized him somewhere… but couldn't quite put her finger on it. Regardless, Sarah Wright composed herself implementing the same process a second time, and followed the stranger's lead around the corner towards John's office.

There was no reason to loose sight of things now.

Not when she was so close.