Chapter Twelve

Casteel looked at Riddick. She didn't see what her being naked had to do with anything. Hadn't he seen a naked woman before? His file didn't mention homosexual tendencies. She sighed. He was staring at her breasts. No, there were definitely no homosexual tendencies in this man.

"You could always pass me a towel," she said drolly. He seemed more shocked about her bare body than she did.

"Maybe I like the view," he answered, recovering slightly as he ran his eyes up and down her body.

"How very flattering. When you're finished staring at my breasts, would you let me up so I can get my own towel?" she asked casually.

"Hmm." He paused for show, tilting his head to the side before continuing, "no I don't think that would work. Why don't we just get down to business?"

Casteel raised her eyebrows, and Riddick realised the meaning of his words. He'd never forced himself on a woman before and he wasn't about start here. "The girl," he said quickly, "Jack. She's my business and I want to know what you did to her."

"This conversation is becoming a little redundant, don't you think. We've already covered this. Last time, I was on top," she stared directly into his eyes. He was confused. How could she be so calm when he was in a position to kill her? How could she be so relaxed? He was baffled by her and angered at the hint of amusement on her face. How could she find this funny?

"Jack was attacked, I fought her attacker off and got her to hospital."

Riddick felt his hand tighten on her neck, "not good enough. Here's my theory. You attacked Jack to get to me. You put her in that hospital, hoping that I would come here looking for her. You want to collect the bounty on me and you'll do anything to get it." He was really squeezing hard now and he could feel the shallow movements of her chest beneath his body.

She said something, but he couldn't quite catch it. He released his grip slightly.

"The walls," she managed to choke out, "look at the walls."

He looked up. In front of him was a wall covered in glossy photographs.

The first thing he saw were his mug shots confirming his theory, "you are after me then?"

He looked at her and caught her rolling her eyes, "for Gods sake Riddick, don't be so one dimensional," she said with exasperation leaking into her vice, "LOOK at the damn wall."

He did and he saw more photos now. A large number of them were of Jack, taken recently and dozens more were of a familiar looking man-but Riddick couldn't quite place the face. These photos were of varying age. There were mug shots of this man too. Sticky notes covered some of those photos. One picture of Jack talking to this mystery man was labelled 'Target girl? Fits profile.'

Several were on pictures of Jack by herself taken at various locations, most outside of the Northvilla, with questions such as 'Next target?', 'Who is this girl? Origin? Age?' written on the notes.

"Explain." He said letting go of her throat.

"Tell me what the girl is to you." She countered.

"I don't think that you are in any position to demand anything from me."

"Please." That word startled Riddick. So civil, so nice. He didn't know how to counter that. She may as well have hit him.

"She's a friend." There, he said it.

Casteel seemed to take this admission in. He followed her gaze to the photos.

"The man you see in the pictures with Jack is an escaped convict. His rap sheet is rather impressive. Multiple rapes, mutilations, a few murders. He's your typical SRM (**Serial Rapist Mutilator/Murderer**), intelligent and charismatic with a big itch that can only be scratched by going after run away teenagers like your friend, Jack." Casteel looked back at Riddick who was staring at the picture of Jack and Len.

"His name is Len," she said before he could ask, "I've been tracking him for a year. He attacked Jack after befriending her. His pattern is to be disguise himself as someone accessible to youth, a social worker or hostel volunteer perhaps. He then becomes their trusted friend through various means. Usually he hires homeless people to scare his victim, who will of course come running straight to him for help and protection. That's when he attacks them."

"You're not after me? You didn't attack Jack?" Riddick asked. He couldn't believe this, but there was the evidence right in front of him.

"I only hunt SRM's."

He looked at the pictures one by one. He didn't like what she was telling him.

"Did he-did he rape her?" Just the thought made him want to be sick. He should have been there for her, he should have-

"No. No, he didn't. I got there before he could. But I wasn't fast enough to stop him from hurting her though."

Riddick let go of her arms and stood up to look closer at the pictures, picking up the discarded gun on the way. He knew where he had seen this Len before. The man who had ran straight into him earlier when he had been searching for Jack. He had smelt of blood and was holding his arm as if it were broken.

"I've seen this man," he said turning to Casteel. She looked back at him, but instead of being on the floor where he left her, she was now kneeling next to the Manager of the hotel, checking her pulse. Training the gun on her, he noticed that she had her towel now.

"Where have you seen him?" she asked examining the prone woman.

"Earlier, in the streets. He was running from something and ran straight into me. He smelt of blood."

Casteel picked up the woman and carried her over to the bed, "you must have seen him right after he attacked Jack then. I broke his arm and beat him up a little. Sounds like you just missed all the action by minutes, maybe a little longer." She placed the woman on the bed and sat down next to her. She folded her arms. "Are you going to kill me now?"

"Straight to the point, aren't you?"

She shrugged, "Why mince words?" She felt along the cover of the bed searching for her spare gauge. It had to be there somewhere.

Riddick's mind was paralysed. Casteel wanted him to believe that she hadn't hurt Jack and that she wasn't after him. That she was after an SRM who by amazing coincidence was after Jack. He felt his headache coming back.

"This sounds all too convenient for me." Riddick said, pulling a picture of Jack off the wall. She was wearing the goggles that she had acquired from the wreckage of the crash, but her hair was longer and now she bore no resemblance to Riddick. Casteel would have had a better chance of winning the look-a-like contest Paris had joked about, and she had long black hair that fell below her shoulders.

The memory stirred something within him.

Damn Fry. Her insistence on treating him like a human had created one. Now he was dealing with the ramifications. Emotions were now running rampant through his mind, devouring his sensibilities and making him weak.

Seeing Jack lying on that hospital bed, a shadow of the lively, if somewhat annoying creature that she had been, he had realised that he cared for her. That was why he had turned around and headed back to New Mecca and that was why he was here now.

"Take me to her." He said, folding the photo and putting it in his pocket.

Casteel shook her head. Had she moved along the bed since he'd last looked? Riddick could have sworn that she had sat down on the end of the bed and now she was almost on top of the pillows.

"Might I ask why?"

She shook her head again. Riddick saw her hands slip out from under the pillows and he pointed the gauge at her head, "Stand up." She did as she was told, slowly standing her eyes fixed on the gun in his hand.

"Take off the towel."

Casteel obliged, sensing something ominous radiating from Riddick. She dropped the towel carefully and turned around slowly when he asked her to. He knew she was up to something. She guessed that he had noticed her slow migration along the bed. At least he hadn't noticed her hands slipping the gun under the lady's body as she stood up.

"Satisfied?" she asked thinking of the towel and the warmth it had created. If he kept her naked she's catch pneumonia.

Riddick ignored her question, instead he stalked across the room, grabbing her by the wrists and forcing her up against the wall. He held her hands over her head and pressed a leg between her thighs - he wasn't going to have her attacking him again, two broken ribs were enough. He was so close now that his lips were at her ear.

"I feel like you are playing some sort of game with me and I don't like it. You might want to consider cooperating if you want to live."

"You might want to consider that killing me will effectively sever any chance you have of finding Jack." She countered.

"Maybe I won't kill you." He ran the gun along her cheek, moving it down her neck and towards her stomach, "maybe I'll just hurt you a little until you tell me what I want to know." He pressed the gun into a spot on her stomach above the navel, "how many major organs do you think I'll hit if I pulled the trigger?"

Casteel was silent for a moment before she answered. "At that angel? Three. My stomach, pancreas and liver. "

"Well, guess I couldn't pull the trigger there, now could I? You die much too fast and I wouldn't get my answers." Riddick began to move the gauge again.

Casteel shut her eyes. This was not how she had planned to spend her day. She had hoped to have Len by now and this business with Riddick had screwed any chance she had of tracking him to a hospital treatment room. And Riddick's story. How convenient that he happened to be the friend of this girl. This was all bloody hopeless-

"This is bloody hopeless," she said in frustration. She opened her eyes to see that Riddick had been watching her, "you think I'm after you, I think that you're after me and this whole time we've been chatting, Len, my prey, is probably up and about again, hunting Jack. This-"

"You think that I'm after you," Riddick interrupted, surprise colouring his face.

"Yes, you haven't really presented any evidence to the contrary."

Riddick laughed his deep, rumbling laugh. Casteel could feel the vibrations on her bare skin, "I'm glad that you find this amusing. Ha, Ha."

He managed to contain his laughter after a struggle, "what on Earth would make you think that I'm after you?"

"Gee, I guess it might have something to do with your appearance at the hospital earlier today, the one which ended with my jaw turning blue then black. You're little stab-o-gram, now that was lovely wasn't it? Made me feel very loved. Oh! And then there's this thing with you holding a gun to my stomach and threatening to pull the trigger. I'm just completely paranoid, aren't I?"

Riddick laughed again, "well, when you put it that way," he let go of her and took several steps backwards, "you can sit there on the floor. Not the bed."

"I'll stand thanks," she looked at her towel, "Can I-"

"No." Instead, he took of his suit jacket and tossed it to her, "but you can put this on." He watched as she shrugged into it, "feel less threatened now?"

Casteel shrugged. "So, Jack, she's a friend of yours?"

Riddick nodded.

"How did you meet her? Tell me something about her."

"Why? I can't see the point to it. Seems to me like you're stalling."

"You find it very amusing that I think you may be after me, but you don't know me and you don't know this case. You said earlier that you thought that I was playing games with you. That I was using Jack to get to you. You're right and your wrong. I am playing a game and I want to know just whose team you are on."

"Go on," he prompted.

Sighing she said, "Len is, well I guess the best term to use is playful. He likes to play games. Have you ever played chess?"

"Yes, once." If that admission surprised her, she didn't show it.

"Well, picture a chess board if you will, stripped down to a few pawns, the kings and a couple of the more prestigious, powerful pieces. On one side you have Len's next victim and me. Let's say that Len's next victim, Jack, is the King. The King, despite the title, is one of the weakest pieces on the board. Can only move one space at a time and requires the other pieces to protect it, but this weak piece is the key to the whole game. Lose the king and you loose the game."

"What are you?"

"Although I don't fancy the title, I guess I would be the Queen."

"Physically the strongest piece, able to move in any direction for any distance. Powerful, key player." Riddick said, starting to get the drift of where this was going.

Casteel smiled grimly, "Correct. My job is protecting my King, Jack, from being captured and killed. Unfortunately, I'm the only remaining piece strong enough to do that. And I'm facing a much larger opposition. Len, also a king is physically very weak. His true strength however, is his mastery of the game and the pieces he commands. And he is very masterful. He hires or tricks people into becoming his pawns, their objective being to distract me away from my Queenly task of protecting the King. Occasionally he throws a few Knights and Bishops into the mix all the while inching closer to raping and gutting another of my Kings."

He understood now. She thought he was working for Len creating a distraction while Len found and killed Jack. He was starting to believe her story.

"I need to know if your another of his pawns or if you're just really an innocent bystander who stumbled off the Monopoly board and onto my chess set."

It all fit. In his mind he could see the pieces of the puzzle falling together. Jack was in a lot of trouble and he had to get to her. Casteel could take him there, if she could trust him. Would a Merc trust a convicted killer, though? He had to try. If she had Jack so well hidden that she didn't expect Riddick to find her without her help, then he needed her.

"We met after a ship we were travelling on crashed. Three of us survived and we spent a lot of time together in a skiff on the back-roads waiting to be rescued. I left her in the care of a friend and she ran away. I followed her here to take her back. This is no place for a fifteen year old." Well, he had told her all that she needed to know - all that he was going to tell her. The rest was up to her now.

Looking at her though, he realised that it wasn't enough to say that he was on her side. He had to show her. He had to trust her now, if he was to gain her trust. It pained him to do it, but he ejected the magazine from the gauge, turned it over in his hand and held it out to her, "I don't work for Len. I'm just here to help someone I care about, nothing more. What happens now is up to you."