Chapter 14
Peggy had yet to go to the building emblazoned with the Stark name on it that sat in midtown but had seen it from a distance standing next to the familiar sleekness of the Chrysler Building. Compared to the former, it wasn’t a pretty building in her estimation, unlike the former buildings’ well-planned geometric lines, Stark Tower looked like someone had taken two separate buildings and stacked them one on top of each other, one the solid concrete type preferred just after the war, the other a sleek, modern thing with the vague shape of a bird at the top. There was perhaps a metaphor in there somewhere about Starks in general, if Peggy cared to think about it, but she ignored it as she discreetly caught her reflection in the glare of the requisitioned vehicle Sharon had procured. It wouldn’t do to barge into a known businessman’s office looking like something of a crazed woman.
“You could just use the mirror on the visor,” Sharon teased, ignoring Peggy’s side-eye glare.
“I didn’t want to be assumed to be vain,” she muttered but took up the advice as she clipped down the fabric-covered sun protector and slipped open the plastic covering the mirror. Her more modern hair was clipped neatly, smooth, and free of the pin curls she had worn for years. Her suit, ridiculously priced in Peggy’s estimation, was perhaps a touch too dark and severe for Peggy’s liking, but struck the appropriate note with the cream blouse that she brought with her from 1948, elegant and stern in equal measure, and didn’t look so different from something she would have worn then. She’d paired it all with a pair of practical, black and white Oxford style pumps so outrageously expensive she nearly hadn’t bought them till Sharon threatened to hide them in one of her bags if she didn’t. For all that price nearly made her faint, she had to admit she did rather love them both as they stood out and were handy weapons when it came down to it.
Cassandra, behind her in the large, jeep-like SUV, blinked at Peggy in the mirror. “Honestly, you look more put together in the morning than I do when I’m going out on a date. Please don’t tell me you look this good every day.”
“Worse, she wore this during the war, too. I’ve seen the pictures. Imagine traipsing through a war zone with perfect eyeliner every day.”
Peggy ignored them both. “I also don’t want to look anything less than a professional. Stane has been sidestepping us on purpose, and I’m taking the conversation to him. I need to be on point and make an impression if I am stepping into his space.”
That was a lesson she had learned early on in her years with the SOE and the SSR; however, the world may change, it was still a world run by the rules of men. Even this one, she was slowly learning, still had its expectations of what was and wasn’t feminine and how that made a person act. The one lesson she learned early that was still just as true today as it had been decades ago was that if a woman walked into a room looking put together and polished and confident, no one asked too many questions. She’d gained that knowledge, ironically enough, from Howard himself - if you act like you know what you are doing, no one will tend to question it. Peggy reminded herself of that as she coolly emerged at the main lobby for the Stark Industries offices, a young man blinking mildly at her as she presented herself, flanked by Sharon’s no-nonsense severity and Cassie’s valiant effort to do the same. The young man glanced at them all curiously as Peggy reached for her badge. “My name is Director Margaret Carter with SHIELD. I’d like to speak with Mr. Obadiah Stane.”
The young man eyed her badge, then the badges of the other two women, before a nervous flicker turned to mild confused panic in his wide eyes. “I... err...don’t know if Mr. Stane is in the building today.”
“I certainly hope he is, as I'm not leaving till we’ve discussed the current state of affairs. I’m sure you know about Mr. Stark’s being missing?”
“Err..yeah,” he replied, and it occurred to Peggy the poor thing likely didn’t know what to do when an agency like SHIELD showed up demanding to speak to important people. “Can I...just call my manager?”
“Of course,” she smiled, hopefully encouragingly, as the fellow reached for the phone on the desk and explained his plight to someone on the other end of the line. There were several nods and much confirmation before he hung up, plastering a smile on his face. “You can go up to speak with Ms. Sprague upstairs. She’s Mr. Stane’s assistant. She’ll be happy to help you.”
Peggy never saw anyone more happy to pass a buck. “What floor?”
“82nd, the elevators are down the hall to your left.”
“Thank you,” she smiled firmly, marching to the bank of shining doors. She recognized this cliche easily enough, they would be passed along to Stane’s assistant, who would do a dance, run around them, and then book a meeting that would never happen.
“Sharon, when we get upstairs, you distract this Ms. Sprague with questions on the case. Keep her off her feet. I want to know what she knows about Stark and his disappearance while keeping her preoccupied with you.”
Sensing the game Peggy was playing, Sharon smiled coyly. “I get to be the aggressive cop?”
“Just like in your criminal procedurals.” Peggy smiled wickedly at her. “Cassandra, you will be the good cop to Sharon. Assure her that you understand that it’s a trying time for everyone, but as we have been talking to everyone at Stark Industries, we need to have this information to aid in Mr. Stark’s recovery. You think you can play up the sympathy?”
“I’ve got four years of high school theater, I’m not such a horrible actress.”
Sharon grinned. “Into the Woods?”
Cassandra snorted. “Eponine in Les Mis and I didn’t leave a dry eye in that house.”
Peggy had no idea what any of it was about outside of the theater. “Right, we can compare our acting credentials later. Let’s focus on this objective, shall we?”
The 82nd floor of the building was bright, glittering, and airy in a way that made Peggy’s eyes water. That it was the executive administrative floor was clear in that it was nicer and further up than everything else, but it looked far and away different than anything she was used to in terms of a high-end executive. Certainly, Hugh Jones’ marble and mahogany office suite was nothing like this high-tech wonderland she stepped into.
“Miss Carter?” A short, dark-haired woman stood by a reception area, face plastered with the sort of polite but determined smile that said she had no intention of giving up anything she didn’t want to. “I’m Ms. Sprague, Mr. Stane’s assistant. I was told you needed an appointment with him.”
“Actually, no, I need to speak with him. Right now, if I may?”
As expected, the woman’s smile never slipped, but it did steel itself considerably as she managed to look ever so regretful. “Ahh, well, I’m afraid that is impossible. Mr. Stane is in a meeting and won’t be available for the rest of the day.”
“So he is in his office today?”
Only a flicker of her eyes in the direction of where Peggy assumed Stane’s office lay betrayed her otherwise politely firm demeanor. “I’m sure Mr. Stane would love to sit down and discuss with you further…”
“Considering that Mr. Stane has avoided all SHIELD inquiries for a month, I highly doubt that,” Peggy shot back, earning a small blink of shock from the otherwise thoroughly composed woman. “You do realize why we are here, correct?”
“I don’t presume to know Mr. Stane’s dealings with outside parties, such as SHIELD, but if you wish to discuss arrangements…”
“Wow, you do not let up,” Sharon cut in smoothly, arms crossed as she studied the woman with perhaps not-so-feigned amazement. “We are trying to find Tony Stark, missing in a desert, or perhaps you haven’t heard? You know, he’s the guy whose name is on this building, this company, likely signs your paychecks. Your boss is supposed to be super close to him and yet hasn’t been willing to speak one word to the authorities about what he knows about his disappearance.”
That caught the otherwise unflappable woman flat-footed as she gaped at Sharon. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’m saying your boss is conveniently making himself scarce in an investigation of a high-profile missing person he is rather closely connected to.”
“Now, Agent Carter.” Cassandra held up a hand between Sharon and Ms. Sprague as if to quell Sharon’s growing head of steam. “We don’t want to cast aspersions when we haven’t got all the facts. After all, we don’t know anything about any of it, correct? But Ms. Sprague might know something.”
“Know what?”
“About Tony Stark’s disappearance,” Cassandra replied simply. “I mean, that’s why we are here after all.”
Peggy could see the other woman’s reserves crack a bit at what was being implied and what was said outright by the other two agents. “I work for Mr. Stane, not Mr. Stark. If you want to discuss his movements, then you would do better to discuss with either Mrs. Arbogast or Miss Potts.”
“I’ve just been talking with them, and now it’s your turn.” Sharon reminded Peggy very much of a bull terrier at the moment, relentless and unwilling to let go. “Tell me, Ms. Sprague, how aware were you of Mr. Stark’s trip to Afghanistan?”
“I was well aware of it, as Mr. Stane was the one who brought it up. He and Mr. Stark planned it together.”
“Did you make the arrangements?”
“No, that was primarily the Defense Department, the Travel Department here at SI and I believe Miss Potts.”
“Did you know that Mr. Stark was nearly three hours late getting off the ground that day?” Sharon closed in on her, Cassandra flanking her as she blocked the shorter assistant’s clear view of Peggy, who had melted quietly into the background.
Whatever the assistant’s views on Mr. Stane were, clearly she was far from impressed with Tony Stark. She scoffed at Sharon’s pointed, rapid-fire question. “I’m hardly surprised, Tony Stark acts like the world is there to serve his bidding. Why would a highly classified, US military visit be any different?”
Cassandra jumped in just as Peggy slipped as quietly away as she could manage in her heavy-heeled, brand-new shoes. “To your knowledge, was Mr. Stark frequently late for these kinds of engagements?”
“Only in days ending in 'Y'.”
While the other two women had Stane’s assistant pre-occupied, Peggy made her way down the hall that Ms. Sprague had glanced at and quietly looked for Stane’s office. She didn’t have far to look. It sat just down a short expanse with an understated nameplate by the door. For all of the high-tech wonder of the building itself, the door had a simple knob and was cracked open. Just inside she could hear a rich baritone, clearly having a conversation with another tinny, electronic voice that was barely audible.”
“I get the point, Jack, but for now, things have got to keep going on schedule. We drop the ball on this and they will pounce. Yeah...yeah...I’ll chat with Pierce, he owes me a few times over, and I’m not worried about using up that credit anytime soon. Right...well they’re a wack job cult who worship space stones or something, it’s like a plot out of a video game. Yeah…”
Without preamble, Peggy pushed open the door the whole way and let herself into the room.
It was as spartan as the rest of the floor, perhaps because this was a secondary office and not the primary one. The view of the city was breathtaking, however, looking over the lower end of Manhattan out towards the glittering New York Harbor. The middle window panel in the office was shaded and dim, however, and some sort of projection was on it with schematics for something Peggy little understood, something called 'insight'. In front of it sat a basic desk of metal and wood, and a large leather chair with its back turned to her behind it. Just over its top, she could see a shining, bald head staring at the projection, looking out to the spread of the city beyond that.
“Mr. Stane,” she called, her voice ringing in the open and bright space. The chair swiveled just enough to allow the profile of an older man to peak around it at her, an earpiece glowing just to the side of his head.
“Hey, Jack, I’m going to have to call you back. Yeah...later today? Thanks.” With one long finger, he touched the earpiece. With an audible beep, it turned off as he worked it out of his ear, frowning at her. “If you’re a reporter looking for a story I have nothing to say.”
“Hardly one of those,” Peggy shot back, pulling the SHIELD issues badge out once more. “Margaret Carter, do you mind having a bit of a conversation with me?”
She watched his eyes alight on the badge, study it, then her for long moments, before he shrugged. “Did you tie up Nicole out front and is she all right?”
Peggy lifted a shoulder in a bland shrug as she graced him with a brief smile. “If you mean Ms. Sprague, she is fine. She is in discussion with two other agents at the moment.”
Stane was calculating what just happened. Far from looking angry, he instead looked impressed and amused. “Quite clever. Not many can set Nicole back on her heels.”
“I assume that’s why you hired her. She’s quite good, by the way, but I’ve had a bit of experience in the area of getting around personal secretaries. May I sit?” She waved to a cluster of armchairs around a low-slung coffee table topped only by a glass container of rocks and some sort of succulent.
“Of course,” Stane replied, rising to meet her. He was a tall man, well over six feet, and had the build of someone who was once very athletic, perhaps still was judging from how fit he was for his age. She knew from his files he was well into his sixties, and for a man of older years was handsome, even charming as he wandered to take one of the pale gray chairs, settling into the cushions with a companionable smile. “So, why is SHIELD looking into the situation with Tony?”
“Because it’s been two months and no one else has done anything.” Peggy cut straight to the chase. “Our hands aren’t tied by public perception or US foreign policy interests.”
“Ah...Rhodes got a hold of you, didn’t he?”
Peggy sat primly on the edge of the armchair across from Stane, the table in between them. “SHIELD has a vested interest in ensuring that one of the architects of international security is returned safely and not kept overlong in the hands of a group who poses an international threat. I’m sure you would agree that it only makes sense we would want to find Mr. Stark.”
“If there is anything to be found,” he replied, a trifle despondently, the amused interest in Peggy melting into something more careful and worried. “Let’s be honest between ourselves, Miss Carter, do you think there is something there to be found?”
“No one has reported a body yet, Mr. Stane.” She meant her words to be a quiet assurance. Perhaps they were a trifle more confident than she had evidence for, but she had little reason to believe otherwise. “Why have you been avoiding our conversation?”
He shifted, crossing his long legs in front of him as he studied his lithe fingers wrapped around one knee. “You know, twenty years ago, I got the call about his father. Middle of the night, sound asleep, they called me to tell me Howard and Maria were dead on the side of some back road in Long Island. One blown tire on a patch of ice and that was it. Tony was home, had just gotten back from some post-masters program in Switzerland, I believe, and was partying with his friends, all of them drunk and passed out at the townhouse - you know, the way kids do when they are cutting loose. I’m the one who had to go out and identify my best friend and his wife, then go back into the city and wake this kid up and tell him his parents weren’t ever coming home. Do you know what that is like, Miss Carter, having to break it to someone that the only family is gone in an instant?”
“Yes,” she said, simply, but not without empathy. She’d had several conversations to that effect during the war, as a matter of fact, with other children, wives, and mothers. She’d been on the receiving end of one such for Michael. And of course, there had been Steve…
“You know then how hard that was. The kid didn’t cry for days, I don’t know if it was real to him. It was only after the wake it hit him. Howard was never particularly religious, I don’t think Maria was either, but her family wanted a big Catholic funeral. I didn’t want to subject Tony to it, but once his aunts were involved it was sort of out of his hands. He disappeared for hours while everyone was there to pay their respects, hundreds of people. It took me forever to find him. Here he was, a young man of twenty-one, curled up in some back room sobbing like he was six years old again, crying that he never got to tell them goodbye. Near broke my heart to see him like that.”
The open wound that was Howard’s death in the weeks since Peggy had followed Lang throbbed achingly for her, but Stane’s story did nothing to explain why it was he hadn’t replied to SHIELD’s requests. “I empathize with that loss, Mr. Stane, but I’m afraid it doesn’t precisely answer my question.”
Stane’s brief, watery smile was charming in its affability as he drew out a long, sad sigh. “I’m sorry I am wandering around it. Tony is family to me. He’s the closest I have to a son, the closest I have to any family, and I promised him on that day I’d always be there for him. All of this...what if he is dead, Miss Carter? What if he’s gone and never found? Worse, what if he is and I have to identify another corpse, and I have to try to explain another death of a Stark? I promised him...I promised his father I would take care of him, and now he’s gone.”
“Is it better to live in limbo or find answers,” she challenged softly, not completely unempathetic. “SHIELD is trying to get those answers. Your assistance in that would be appreciated. We’ve already spoken to his assistant and driver and those at Stark Industries he worked closest to.”
“I heard,” he replied. “I hope you don’t think that Pepper or Hogan did anything…”
“No,” she quickly cut off that line of thinking. “No, I’m not sure anyone did anything untoward to Mr. Stark. My question for you was why was he there? The region is an obvious military zone, filled with UN forces, and prone to violence. Why would the US military agree to allow a civilian there, especially one as high profile as Mr. Stark himself?”
“Ahh, that was Tony’s idea!” Stane chuckled, sadly. “I tried to talk him out of it, but Tony is too much of his father’s son. He loves a good opportunity to show off, and he had a new weapons system he’d been working on for years and was eager to play with. He’d hit on the idea of taking it to the source to have a big demonstration for the military, mostly because by design there weren’t a lot of places in the world where something as powerful as the Jericho could be demonstrated effectively and safely. Tony is a born salesman and he wanted to display its full capability.”
“And you went along with this plan?”
“I wouldn’t say I went along with it, no, but I learned a long time ago when Tony gets anything in his teeth he won’t let it go. I simply said I’d work with the DOD to ensure that all precautions would be taken, which I did. They assured me that they had all the extra security he could want for his trip, a full armored detail to protect him, and a well-guarded and protected route to and from the site. All he had to do was show up, shake hands, blow up a mountain, and go straight back to the airport and no one would be the wiser about it.”
Clearly, that hadn’t been the case. “Do you know anything about a group calling themselves the Ten Rings?”
“Ten Rings...no. Is that who you think took him?”
“Possibly, though they are one of many such groups in the region.”
“I can’t say I keep up with insurgent groups in Central Asia, I feel like there is a new one of them every week making demands and bombing innocent citizens.”
“They seem to be powerful enough and well armed, enough to pose a substantial threat in the region. As a man in the business of weapons, what are your thoughts on how they got to be so powerful?”
Something hard and cunning flickered into Stane’s otherwise grieving expression. “I’m afraid I don’t understand your question.”
Peggy at least feigned some sort of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I perhaps wasn’t clear. We are aware that the Ten Rings is very well armed and supplied, it is why they have had such a presence in the region and we think it is why they were so able to easily kidnap Mr. Stark. It surprised us, that is all, to see a group like that able to take on a fully armed military convoy prepared against threats of that nature.”
Stane’s expression eased as he shrugged, considering. “Honestly, it could be anything. That place has been a hotbed for years. I know back in the 80s we sold the Taliban weapons by the crateful to fight against the Soviets and I’m sure they’ve gotten a hold of a lot of that, but since then the situation has been so insane it’s hard saying where they got what. We send lots of weapons to the UN forces who are stationed there and I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s where they came from, stolen off trucks and sold through back channels, black market. If not, Russia and Iran have avenues too, and neither one of them has been particularly careful on who gets what weapons, and if things go conveniently missing, say a crate of guns, they tend not to notice.”
“Stark Industries doesn’t keep track of where its goods go?” Peggy knew they did and knew of the shipping manifests Sharon found, evidence that they had been sending weapons to Afghanistan.
“Well, lots of orders, lots of things going all over the place, especially for the US military. We are shipping everywhere, including out there. Once they are with our customers we don’t keep track of them. We hardly sell openly to terrorists like...Ten Rings, did you say?”
“Yes,” she confirmed, mulling over his explanation. “Pardon my asking this, but it is my job. To your knowledge, every contract and shipment has been above board, correct?”
The hard edge flickered to life again but quickly disappeared as Stane glowered at her. “Are you honestly suggesting that Stark Industries would be doing anything illegal?”
“Like I said, I have to ask the question, if nothing else to clear that it didn’t.”
It wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. “Howard Stark built this company up over decades, well before you were born. He built it on the ideas of integrity and innovation, and he did it the right way, not by doing things underhandedly. That’s the legacy he has left with us. I wouldn’t allow this company to do anything less than that and I certainly wouldn’t allow Tony to do that either.”
Peggy bit her tongue at his tirade, knowing all too well Howard was far from some sort of noble paragon who was above reproach. He’d run in the streets of the Lower East Side with future gangsters and had never been above a bit of chicanery and backroom gentlemen’s agreements to get what he wanted done. “I seem to recall he had to answer before the United States Senate in 1946 for charges of weapons dealing with the Soviets who were at the time no longer our Allies.”
The fact that she could pull that fact out caught the other man by surprise. His glower deepened. “And Howard Stark was cleared of any wrongdoing in that matter. It was a misunderstanding, nothing more. Having known the man personally, I can assure you that he handled all his business with integrity. He learned his lesson after that.”
“You speak as if you two were close.” The petty part of her soul knew that this wasn’t a necessary line of questioning, but she didn’t care. It galled her unreasonably that this man would claim to know so much of a situation that occurred when he was likely little more than a small child, particularly when she had been in the center of all of it risking her own life and good name.
Stane knew none of that, however, instead he focused on her comment, his anger subsiding into grave fondness. “We were...well, as close as anyone could be with Howard. He wasn’t exactly the type who let anyone in easily, but I was one of the few he trusted enough to get in there. He was like family to me.”
“You had once owned your own company that he bought outright, correct?”
Stane hadn’t expected that and he blinked up at her, faintly impressed. “You have done your homework.”
“That’s what they pay me to do,” she replied simply. “He offered you a position at SI and a fair amount of stock on top of the price of your company.”
“Also a house in Ventura County on a property of my choosing. He knew I like to surf and paid for a spot with a private beach that had some of the nicest waves along the California coast.”
“That was kind of him.”
“That was Howard,” he shrugged. Having been on the receiving end of Howard’s generosity many times, including the account that paid for the outrageously expensive shoes she was wearing, Peggy wasn’t surprised. “If he liked you, he could be generous...very generous. It may sound shallow, but it was how Howard I think showed his affection and appreciation. He wasn’t exactly an outwardly affectionate man, but buying nice things was something he could do.”
“And he liked you?”
“Ehh, Howard and I thought a lot alike,” Stane replied, moving against restlessly. “Our stories weren’t so different. We both were smart, both had to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps, both had difficult upbringings in our childhood, and both went to prestigious technology schools. I used to joke that if I didn’t know better, Howard could very well be my father and not Tony’s. Certainly, he was the right age for it.”
The realization somewhat floored Peggy, if for nothing else because she wasn’t even used to the idea that Tony Stark was Howard’s son. Still, Stane wasn’t wrong, even a quick bit of simple math said he could have been Howard’s son had he had one when he was young. She highly doubted Howard had been that reckless, however...or at least sincerely hoped he hadn’t.
“Is that what Howard became for you, then, a father figure?” She might as well prod that angle and see where it got her. To her surprise, Stane chuckled at that idea.
“Howard...a father figure?” He chuffed, shaking his head and running long fingers across his smooth scalp. “Howard wasn’t anyone’s father figure, least of all mine. Don’t get me wrong, that doesn’t mean he wasn’t a great man, but Howard was more of a brother to me than anything, a comrade in engineering, the guy I knew I could bounce ideas off of and who I knew I could bounce ideas off of and could get it. We were as close as brothers! But a father figure...he wasn’t even a good father to Tony!”
That comment struck oddly considering his early story regarding the younger Stark’s grief at his parents' loss. “I thought you said he was crushed at his death.”
“Oh, he was, but it was complicated. You know how it is. Howard was a great man, but if there was one fault I would say he had it was how he raised that boy. Not that it was easy, I get it. Howard was himself a genius, raising Tony who was even more of a genius. How do you raise a kid like that? I wouldn’t know where to start!”
That idea boggled even Peggy’s mind. She’d seen Howard’s formidable intellect in action, as well as his arrogance about it, and the notion that there was anyone who could outstrip him, let alone his son, was a frightening prospect indeed. “I’m sure it was difficult.”
“Hell yeah, it was. Tony was running before he could walk, he was reading by the time he was two and putting together motherboards when he was little more than a toddler. Maria used to say that when she couldn’t find him in his room he was always in his father’s lab, tinkering. Kid was a natural, so of course Howard was over the moon that his son was going to take after him someday. He was always bragging about Tony’s latest and newest creations; a new computer program, a robot, rudiments of artificial intelligence. It was like he was grooming a miniature version of himself, All he ever saw were the bits that Howard could relate to. I asked him once if he did anything normal with his kid, you know, take him out to a ballgame, or go hiking, anything that wasn’t just seeing his kid as an extension of his genius.”
That sadly did sound exactly like something the Howard she knew would have done as a father. She sighed in belated exasperation, saddened by the fact she wasn’t there to say anything to him about it. “That had to be hard for his son.”
“Not going to lie, it wasn’t easy, no. I suppose that’s how Tony and I got to be so close, I understood Howard, I got what it was like being a kid with a difficult-to-please father, so I sort of stepped in as an uncle and mediate between the two. I’ve been around him most of his life. I suppose that’s why all of this is so very hard now, knowing he’s out there, afraid he’s not alive or not whole. I’ve always looked after Tony and tried to keep an eye on him, even more so since Howard’s death. I promised I’d look after him and I failed.”
Peggy understood that sort of grief. “I don’t know if there was much of anything you could have done to stop this, Mr. Stane.”
“No?” He didn’t look as certain at the moment. “Maybe...maybe not. I mean, I was just talking to him right before it happened, just minutes before. Had he called a little later, had he been on the phone with me when it happened, we maybe could have traced his phone…”
That was new information to her. “You are saying you spoke to him before the attack on his detail?”
Stane paused, perhaps surprised she didn’t know that. “Yeah, he called me as soon as the demonstration was done and the deal closed. He usually did in situations like that, if nothing else to just celebrate and give me something to take to the board. I was in bed when he called, in fact, just settling in for the night. He was happy, proud of himself, cocky...the normal Tony. I don’t think he even saw what was coming.”
“Do you know who else was with him?”
Stane looked thoughtful. “I mean, there was General Curtis, I saw him back there, and I know I heard Broadwell on the other end of the line...and Rhodes, of course. He was always there with Tony. He would have been in the Humvee, too, if Tony hadn’t been an idiot. Maybe it was good he wasn’t.”
“Maybe,” Peggy agreed, considering they may never have known had Rhodes not blown the whistle. She filed away the small bit of news on Stane’s phone call as she made a show of looking at the slender watch on her wrist. “I’m really afraid I’ve taken too much of your time, Mr. Stane. I appreciate you not calling security on me.”
“Not at all,” his smile was broad and perhaps a bit admiring. “I have to say, I hadn’t expected SHIELD to just break into my office like I was some sort of third-world dictator, but I am impressed with how you got in to see me.”
“I want to find Mr. Stark as much as you do, and I’m not a woman who takes no for an answer.” She met his amusement frankly. “My goal is to find him soon, Mr. Stane, for everyone’s sake.”
“I pray that you do. God knows that the Defense Department has been worse than useless.” He rose as Peggy stood, towering slightly over her as he took her hand. “It’s been a pleasure being grilled by you, Miss Carter.”
“Director,” she replied, finding herself suddenly irritated by the “miss” appellation he used on her their entire conversation as if she were some sort of schoolgirl in the classroom. He paused in mild confusion and she found herself falling into a lifetime of British manners and civility. “You insisted on calling me ‘miss’ and I am merely pointing out that is erroneous. I am Director Carter.”
“Director?” He chuffed, a small huff as his expression, which had been so open moments before, narrowed to something more calculating. “I thought Nick Fury was the current director.”
“You would be right,” she shrugged, a hard edge to her smile. “I answer to Director Fury and am a part of this investigation at his request. That said, I do appreciate your time, Mr. Stane.”
He was noting that she saw, with that calculation that seemed to always be hiding just beneath his friendly surface. “It was a pleasure, Director Carter. Perhaps in the future, we will meet again at a SHIELD function. Stark Industries once had a close relationship with SHIELD, it would be nice to rekindle that once again.”
“I will mention it to Director Fury.” For all of his claims of a close relationship with Howard, Peggy didn’t believe he knew about Howard and SHIELD. “Should questions come up, might we reach out to you again?”
“Of course,” he assured her, walking her back to the open door of his office. “Anything I can do to get our boy back here safe and sound.”
“Of course,” she smiled back up at him as from down the small hallway she could hear the clipped, hard sound of a pair of women's high heels marching towards them.
“You will let me know if you find something? Anything?”
“You will be one of the first calls we make,” she assured him pleasantly. “And feel free to reach out to us should you feel the need.”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stane,” Ms. Sprague, looking decidedly less cool and collected and more frazzled and angry stalked up to them, glaring daggers at Peggy as she came to a halt in front of them. “I had told the SHIELD agents that you weren’t to be disturbed.”
“That’s all right, Nicole, Director Carter and I had a pleasant and necessary chat,” he soothed his frazzled assistant, who only looked mollified insofar as she was certain her boss wasn’t going to fire her on the spot. Amusement flickered as he eyed Peggy ruefully. “It’s my fault, I kept putting them off and I should have known better than to cross an agency as powerful as SHIELD.”
“Let’s hope in future we have an easier time communicating.” Peggy smiled pleasantly. “Goodbye, Mr. Stane.”
“Goodbye, Director.”
As she turned on her heels to march back towards the reception area she could feel Stane’s eyes following her the whole way out. She had a feeling he was the type to start making calls on the strange, fancy phones they all had, trying to discover who this woman making demands of him was. She’d noted the name of “Pierce” when she walked into the room. She had no idea if it was the same mysterious fellow who now oversaw SHIELD or not, perhaps it was. If so, she wondered just how much the head of the World Security Council would tell his acquaintance about her and what she was up to.
In the cold, bright area up front Sharon and Cassandra waited, looking smug and pleased all at once. Ms. Sprague looked as if she heartily wished the floor would open up beneath both of them and swallow them all. “If you all are done here,” she snapped, glancing pointedly toward the elevators.
“I do believe we are,” Peggy responded as graciously as her mother could have ever hoped for. “Thank you for your full cooperation, Ms. Sprague. Agent Carter, Agent Kam, let’s go.”
Sharon and Cassandra fell into step beside her as they made for the elevator, Ms. Sprague’s glare stabbing at them the whole way to the elevators. It was only once they were inside that Cassandra broke first into snickers. Sharon beside Peggy looked rather proud of herself.
“I swear we almost got her to cry,” Cassandra laughed, excitement at her first real interrogation ever clearly making her giddy.
“Hmmm,” Peggy responded, wanting to wait till they at least got to their vehicle before digging too deeply into it.
“I guess our ploy worked. You were down there with Stane for some time.”
“It did,” she replied as the elevator alighted in the lobby, depositing them into the bustle of people wandering in and out. They bypassed the receptionist and made for where they parked. Peggy waited till they were well outside of the main building before divulging anything further. “Stane was worried we’d tied up his assistant somewhere.”
“Perhaps not tied up in the physical sense, though she was fit to be tied, certainly,” Sharon smirked. “She’s not a woman who is used to being questioned or undermined.”
“It’s her job to be the wall between everyone and Stane. I’m only sorry that you both made her job a bit harder today.” The poor woman had looked as if she might just burst into tears the moment they were gone. “Did you find anything interesting?”
“I don’t think she knew anything about Stark’s disappearance directly, no, but it turns out she was a wealth of gossip,” Sharon offered, pulling the keys for the SUV out of her pocket.
“And what does the gossip channel have to say?” Sometimes it was useful, sometimes not, at least in Peggy’s experience.
“Most of them seem to think that Stark likely leaked it all himself,” Cassandra replied, climbing into the back seat behind Peggy. “According to her Stark was known to brag and wasn’t always careful who he told things to, especially when...you know, preoccupied.”
Sharon slipped behind the wheel as Peggy slipped in beside her. “Sadly, I don’t think that tracks. Stark has more military secrets in his head than the US government has on file and for all his numerous hookups he’s not the type to spill state secrets as pillow talk, else there would have been a lot more of them on the loose.”
“But you got to admit, there could have been an offhand comment somewhere along the way, maybe to someone at the craps tables in Las Vegas, or to that reporter he spent the night with, something about having to go to Afghanistan.”
“Maybe, but even if he did what would it mean to any of them? He likely goes a lot of places.”
Peggy listened, ruminating over each strand of what they had gathered. Stane posited that Stark wasn’t there to sell weapons outright, but did seem to think there were backdoor channels. They knew shipments were being sent into Afghanistan that Stark knew about, or at least signed off on, ones that may or may not be accounted for by government purchases. Stane wasn’t sure that Stark was even alive, despite there being no indication he was dead, but he had been in communication with him just before the attack began.”
“I need to talk to Rhodes,” she murmured, glancing sideways at Sharon as she started the car. “And I need a crash course on just how satellite communication works.”
That caught her niece by surprise. “Like...how to build one?”
“More specifically how they are utilized in Afghanistan,” she replied as Sharon pulled into afternoon traffic. “It could be nothing.”
Cassandra from behind Peggy’s head harrumphed. “I have a feeling that if you are bringing it up it’s likely something.”
Peggy had a feeling that she was right.