Chapter 28
Peggy spent much of her flight from New York to Los Angeles reviewing the file on Daniel Sousa’s disappearance. It had taken even the formidable Maria Hill some time to pull it out of mothballs, as Howard had buried it deep, wrapping it in clearance and red tape, hoping others would leave it alone. By that point, perhaps, he had gotten rather done with losing friends in mysterious ways and decided that he would rather move on than have others prod the situation and potentially get themselves killed as well. In that sense, she couldn’t blame him.
Unfortunately, the file held little in the way of clues to Peggy as to what happened, an unexplained mystery that had gone cold decades ago. All Peggy could understand with any certainty was that Daniel had gone to a SHIELD research facility in Nevada, that he had somehow ended up back in Los Angeles, supposedly to deliver something to Howard, and was supposedly shot in a Hollywood hotel, left to float face down in the pool. Certainly, there was a police report to that effect, there were even pictures, ones Peggy trepidatiously studied carefully but which didn’t seem to offer any hard evidence. Unlike the ones of her that Daniel had poured over so long ago, these showed no identifying marks that hinted that it was him. Not even his left leg, the prosthetic one he wore for years, stood out. Certainly, the man had a cane similar to the one Daniel was reportedly carrying, which was a change. Even as late as 1949, he was using the crutch, as she recalled painfully from New Year's Eve and his proposal. Whoever it was could have been anyone in a suit, trench coat, and fedora, shot in the back and left floating for the authorities to find.
She couldn’t bring herself to believe it was Daniel, frankly, especially not after the ensuing medical examiner snafu. It just so happened that when SHIELD and the LAPD went to ask about the body, the Los Angeles County medical examiner had no record of it. Daniel Sousa was nowhere to be found. Considering the rocky and contentious relationship that already existed between SHIELD and the LAPD after both the Whitney Frost case and the subsequent attempted murder of Jack Thompson, the loss of Daniel’s body during the investigation seemed to inflame that animosity once again, and the LAPD had stubbornly dug its heals in, stating that they had a body and if SHIELD had a problem with how they handled the case they could investigate it themselves. The case was dropped soon after, partly out of spite, Peggy was guessing, but mostly out of it simply being a cold case. Whatever did happen to Daniel remained a mystery, with precious few leads to go on.
“We’ll be landing at HQ this time.” Her pilot, a man by the name of Justin, only slightly younger than she was, shot her a charming smile. “Agent Coulson asked me to drop you off right there.”
“All right,” Peggy replied, staring out of the window to the city below, still amazed at how it changed. Her first time there, she’d flown into the city of Burbank, as she recalled, sandwiched between movie studios. Mr. Jarvis had complained of his boredom with Howard’s new living situation. He had been rather excited to have her there on a case until the case proved so dangerous for all of them.
How she missed him.
That seemed to be the refrain of her life at the moment, she mused in irritable self-reflection, running her fingers over Daniel’s file. As always, she had no one to blame but herself in all of this, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. She missed Edwin and his steadfast loyalty and eagerness for adventure. She missed Ana and her kind acceptance and sense of humor even in the worst situations. What would they have made of all this with Howard’s son, their young charge? Would Edwin have mildly and quietly despaired of Tony and his antics, gently trying to extricate his charge from the worst of his missteps? Would Ana have shaken her head and scolded him over a cup of tea and a slice of cake and laughed at his wounded pride and soothed his aching heart? At least that was what Peggy would like to think, she had no idea who Tony’s mother was and how involved she was in her son’s life before her untimely death. Howard, she had guessed, was something less than ‘father-of-the-year’ in raising Tony, but she could well see the Jarvises as being that kindly presence every young child needs, the ones who gave young Tony the love and support he deserved, scant as it was. Perhaps he was the child that they couldn’t have, thanks to Whitney Frost.
These thoughts swirled in her head as they passed by the glittering towers of downtown once again and toward the building Coulson had pointed out last time, a block in the middle of shopping strips and other low-rise office buildings. Behind the tall, functional tower of glass and concrete was a parking structure, large enough for the quinjet to land comfortably. Before they even touched down, Peggy could see Coulson standing by, mirrored sunglasses on, waiting patiently for Justin to give her the all-clear that she could deboard.
“Director Carter,” Coulson greeted with a pleased smile. “You have a good flight?”
“An early one, certainly.” She tried to stifle a yawn. “But pleasant enough. Justin there did well in getting us here.”
“Excellent! I hope you brought a party dress.”
That hadn’t been what she had expected to hear, but she gamely followed both Coulson and the thread of his conversion across the bridge between the building and the parking structure inside. “I might have done. I have found in my long history that it is well worth it to be prepared for any eventuality. That said, I wasn’t precisely expecting it. So why are we going to a party?”
“The Stark Foundation’s big gala is tonight at the Disney Concert Hall downtown. It’s black tie, rather classy, and the media is all over it. I’m hoping to use it to corner one or both of our targets. They can’t avoid you as easily if it tends to make a scene.”
“Clever, corner them between the canapés and the champagne. That’s an old SOE maneuver I learned back in the day from Frank Broyles, the man who helped train me. I’m sure he learned it from someone else in his day.”
“Hey, why mess with the oldies but goodies,” Coulson replied cheerfully, leading them across a catwalk to the building beyond. “Thanks to your team's detective work, Romanoff has been able to finally dig up pieces. Stane has been maneuvering this behind the scenes for years, possibly decades.”
“Which is easy to do when you have a CEO who is paying little to no attention to the day-to-day running of the company.” As much as Peggy would like to lay that all on the feet of Tony, she knew that Howard was just as bad. Seeing the pieces on the board now, Peggy had to surmise that this was exactly how Stane liked it, keeping the Starks preoccupied with either pet projects or new playthings. Tony’s exuberant lifestyle - the fast cars, faster women, and hedonistic decadence that made him the fodder of tabloid papers for two decades - likely had been fostered quietly by Stane in an attempt to keep the otherwise brilliant man preoccupied. The less he was invested in his company, the less he could pick up on what was going on behind the scenes.
“Our best guess is that Stane likely started laying the groundwork years ago when Howard was alive. When he died, Tony was still young enough that he needed a good, strong hand to help guide the ship, and there was Uncle Obadiah there to help give him a lending hand with how to make this work. Stark grew to depend on him so much I doubt he ever questioned him or what he was doing.”
Peggy recalled what Stane had said, of how he had tried to be the uncle, the loving male presence in young Tony’s life that Howard was not. “I think he has worked on this for a long time, longer than even we suspect. He planted the seeds with Tony when he was a young boy and built up the idea of being that person who was always there for him, even when his father was too busy to be bothered. Stane has been playing the long game, and now he’s trying to make the final move on it.”
“Except his plans got foiled by his clients. I can’t imagine Stane will be forgiving for their bungle of that one.”
“I have a feeling this Raza and the Ten Rings overplayed their hand. Whether Stane acts on it or not depends on how badly he wants to blow his cover. I doubt that he will want to openly show himself for fear of revealing the truth to those paying attention.” Peggy couldn’t bring herself to believe he was that stupid. Stane had been playing too long a game for him to get careless now. Still, she had seen more powerful and desperate men make far sillier plays. Stane might surprise her.
They had wandered into the building itself, the lobby big, cool, and heavily guarded, much like the New York offices were. Blessedly, no pictures of herself graced the walls inside, but one did sit on a far wall just across from a receptionist area, a painting that gave her pause as she stared at it. Peggy felt her heart sink as she instinctively clutched the strap of her briefcase over her shoulder, Daniel’s file inside.
“He was the guy who founded the LA office after all.” Coulson had come to stop beside her and studied the portrait of Daniel on the wall. “I suppose they wanted to honor him.”
“Howard’s idea, I’m guessing?” Why did Howard like these ridiculous portraits of people all over the place, she wondered gloomily.
“Probably, he was the one who signed off on the commission of this building.” Coulson’s ever-present, placid smile inched a fraction into the sardonic. “I think he liked to memorialize people forever like that.”
“I think he assumed everyone had an ego the size of Texas like he did,” Peggy groused.
“I don’t know,” drawled a voice at Peggy’s right, soft, feminine, and throaty. “I think he looks rather distinguished. Can’t say you don’t have good taste, Carter.”
Peggy would have jumped and whirled on the woman out of instinct had her better senses not pinpointed Romanoff’s quiet sarcasm in an instant. The petite woman stood politely to the side, her dark, red hair pulled up in a simple, but elegant, ponytail that complimented her severe but well-made suit. Uncharacteristically, she wore a pair of heels so thin and tall, Peggy was shocked to see her walking in them at all, let alone with the elegance and grace that marked everything Romanoff did. They certainly added to her scant height, which was likely why she wore them. She only arched one perfect eyebrow at Peggy, clearly aware of the effect she had. “I’m just saying, he’s got a particular look about him.”
“I know what you meant.” Peggy didn’t mean to sound waspish, but couldn’t help it.
The other woman smiled, mostly at Coulson who she genuinely looked pleased to see. “How was New Mexico?”
“Hot,” he muttered. Peggy could just see the hint of warm brown on his skin, evidence of his time in the sun. “How is working at SI?”
“I have to admit if I ever get bored working for you I think I have a future working contract law for them. Also, I enjoy the benefits.”
“Those massages Hill is always carrying on about that worth it?”
“You should try one, Coulson. Kick back, take a load off, take a vacation somewhere, and get one. A little relaxation would suit you well.”
“I can rest when I’m dead,” he muttered dryly at Romanoff’s cheeky smile. “What do you get?”
“Come on up, I’ll show you. Carter hit on the jackpot.”
Peggy couldn’t tell if Romanoff sounded surprised or not by that. She could never tell with this woman and thus could never decide if she should be offended or not. She followed behind, however, as the other agent led them to the elevators, swiping a card that allowed them access to go up.
“I’ve commandeered a spot here for now,” Romanoff murmured by way of explanation. “Office thinks I’m downtown filing some paperwork with the courts.”
“And what about the paperwork,” Coulson queried, speaking out loud the question that Peggy had wondered as well, but wasn’t going to ask.
Romanoff chuckled. “It pays to make friends with people in the office, Coulson. Not everything is about spying and global security threats. Gretchen is one of the legal assistants here at SHIELD, she’s got that covered. She’s been handling the finer points of walking me through this job.”
Smart, Peggy thought to herself, and it showed a side of Romanoff she had yet to see. Thus far, Peggy had only been subjected to the other woman’s cold nature and obvious distrust. Sharon had noted she’d had a very different experience with her, and it was clear she was friendly with Coulson and close with Barton. She made friends with random office workers in the organization, which showed she at least recognized their value and wanted to be friendly. So...why was she hostile towards Peggy?
“Come in,” Romanoff entered the ubiquitous workspace of the standard SHIELD empty office, the sort that Peggy was learning was a mainstay for the often mobile and the never permanently fixed agents. Much like Peggy’s own space in New York, it had screens for sharing information and a window that looked out over the spires of the downtown skyline. Unlike her own, though, it did feel transient, nothing personal about it. It was clear it was used specifically for moments like these and nothing else.
“I’ve been digging through what I can get on SI looking for Stane’s fingerprints.” Natasha seated herself and began pulling up data as Coulson and Peggy did the same. “Carter’s right, Stane’s been at this a long time and he’s not stupid. He’s cultivated multiple avenues by which to smuggle weapons, primarily through more legitimate fronts. Most of the weapon sales look like they are legal on the books, sales to known foreign governments approved by the US State Department. The illegal stuff is aftermarket, usually a shipment earmarked for someone else that mysteriously goes missing.”
“Like say a truckload of weapons meant for NATO forces in Afghanistan.”
“Yep,” Romanoff typed quickly, pulling up a panoply of different files and invoices. “From what I’ve pieced together Stane primarily had two methods for creating his network. First was his extensive ‘old-boys’ network, as I like to call it, primarily made up of those who had a foot in an accepted government and were just amoral enough to want to make a bit of money on the side. Often they were either low-level bureaucrats on the take or high-flying men behind the scenes who had no compulsion to fund and arming foreign uprising to service their political policies. It’s a high-risk, high-reward sort of venture, but you get one nosy reporter or an intelligence agent who just so happens to stumble on it and the whole thing is blown to hell.”
“An intelligence agent such as yourself?” Coulson’s pointed look was amused and Romanoff shrugged smugly.
“Hey, you put me on this, and honestly, I’m not the only one looking. Since Stark’s disappearance people have been asking questions. I know of at least one reporter with ties to Stark who has been hiring locals in Gulmira for information. Stane’s little operation on this side is about to be busted wide open, and it’s not going to look good for Stark Industries when it does, especially given Stark’s declaration to the press about how he was ending production.”
That was a sloppy maneuver. Peggy wouldn’t have expected it of Stane, not given how careful he had been until it hit her why. “Stane’s allowing it because he can push it off on Stark as head of the company. He can quickly dive for cover, allow the CEO to take the hit, and use that as fodder to further undermine Stark and push him out.”
It was ridiculously subtle and Romanoff nodded firmly as Peggy’s connection. “That’s what I’m thinking. The press will have a field day with it, the CEO who vowed to end weapons production so terrorists can’t get them finds out his company has been selling them under his nose. The board is already screaming for Stark’s blood, this will just finish him.”
The idea of the lengths Stane went to in undermining Tony both appalled and angered Peggy, but she had to admit it was rather brilliant. She couldn’t fault him for how well laid out it all was. “You said Stane had two methods in passing weapons.”
“Yeah, the other is the one Burk stumbled on. That is a more direct, hands-on method. When the technology was finally around to support it, Stane built up an online presence to take direct orders and handle business behind the scenes. It’s more hidden than his gentleman’s network and easier to manage. He probably built this as the backup when and if the first method blew up, or if he wanted to get out of it to look more respectable. I’m guessing it wasn’t just him, though, he has a whole team working on this, reaching out through the dark web protocols, connecting with potential buyers, and working the existing Stark Industries distribution network to get orders to those who pay for it. All the money is funneled through shady channels on the dark web and distributed to those he’s got on his private payroll.”
Coulson was pleased to hear this. “You got a list of names for us.”
“I should finish it up within the week and it’s all yours, boss.” Romanoff smirked, nodding to the screen. “I won’t lie, they were very discrete and thorough. Most all of it was hidden under legitimate transactions, complete with contracts and invoices should anyone look into it.”
It was impressive the lengths he was willing to go to hide it, but then again Stane had operational control of the company for decades. He could build up whatever he needed to accomplish what he wanted. Given free reign, he’d done what he wanted without either Howard or Tony ever the wiser. “What about Tony’s signature on those contracts?”
“If you believe it, electronic signature.” Romanoff looked particularly appalled by that. “Legal had it set up because Stark is notoriously difficult to pin down to sign anything. When he is available, he often avoids it so he agreed to it. The problem is they don’t have any other means of authentication, so you can draw the line from there.”
“How in the hell hasn’t anyone made off with giant contracts or embezzled an obscene amount of money from them yet,” Coulson wondered aloud, clearly as flabbergasted as Peggy was by the lack of oversight inherent in the company’s systems.
“Hey, I’m still working on it. If someone has, I’ll find it.”
“Stark will owe you for the service.”
Romanoff played Coulson’s observation off gently. “Call it a step towards his reformation. I suspect that when this breaks, it’s going to be a rude awakening for him. For a man who doesn’t trust easily, the worst sort of betrayal is the kind of someone you trust. That is something I do understand. Best get him a list and let him clean house once Stane is removed from the equation.”
The other woman’s compassion took Peggy by surprise. Barton had said she was a good person. It was the first chink in the armor that Romanoff wrapped herself in that Peggy had ever seen. “What you have is more than enough to pin Stane if we can get it to Stark.”
“Ahh, therein lies the rub,” Romanoff acknowledged, leaning back into her chair and folding her arms. “Stark hasn’t been seen outside of his home, save for the occasional breakneck and highly illegal spin up and down the PCH, since he got back. Seriously, people are saying he’s less Howard Stark’s son and more Howard Hughes'.”
“Unless he’s holed up in a Las Vegas motel looking like the Abominable Snowman, I doubt it.” Coulson shook his head even as Peggy wondered what that even meant. “We think that Stark’s been working on something, likely improving on whatever he created to get out of Afghanistan.”
“A rocket pack?” Romanoff looked downright dismissive at the idea, causing Peggy to swallow her initial impulse to bristle.
“Not even Howard could get that working. I think it was more advanced than that. What and how, I don’t know, but given what little we saw in his escape, it’s more likely a suit of armor.”
That made Romanoff decidedly less doubtful. “Stark’s first love was computer science and robotics. I suppose in theory he could be working on something.”
“Any hints,” queried Coulson.
“Not around SI, no. They’ve been focused on the shift out of weapons manufacturing and what that means, the hit they will take and the restructuring to follow.” A hint of a grimace flickered over her features. “No one cares as much when their job is on the line, and he’s not been around the building at all. Frankly, I think Legal is just pleased that for once in his life he’s quiet and out of the way and they don’t have to cover the corporation’s ass for his antics.”
Wasn’t that a familiar refrain, Peggy mused. “Do you think he will be at the gala tonight?”
Romanoff frowned doubtfully. “That, I don’t know. Potts will be, she was the point person organizing it. Anyone who is anyone is going to be there, so if you want to rub elbows with any movie stars, Coulson, you owe me.”
“I’m shocked you got tickets.”
At that prompting, Romanoff reached into the desk and pulled out an envelope she passed to Coulson. “I promised to give language lessons to the kid of the woman running the guest list. He’s struggling with AP French and she wants him to go to Stanford.”
“You keep up with that good-heartedness, Nat, and you may just thaw your heart,” Coulson teased, tucking the tickets inside his jacket.
“Not a chance,” she replied, cheerfully. “You two kids go out and have yourself a good time, but not too good of one. I don’t know what Captain America would say about his best girl partying too hard with another man.”
It was as if Romanoff was trying to bait her now. Anger and annoyance from months of small, passive-aggressive slights roared up, but she bit it off, instead plastering on a cheerful, if sharp, smile of her own. “If you think I’m that prudish, Agent Romanoff, clearly you didn’t read my file hard enough.”
Far from irking the other woman, it only seemed to amuse her, something calculating flickering for a moment, before being filed away. “Hmmm, guess I didn’t. Guess I better give it another look. You two kids have fun.”
Why did Peggy have the feeling she was being played?
Coulson, sensing the cat-and-mouse game before him, rose with a warning glare at Romanoff. “Let us know if anything else pops up on Stane or Stark. I’ve got rooms for us at the Biltmore on the company dime, so we will be close by.” He shrugged, cutting an awkward glance to Peggy standing beside him. I figured that would be a much nicer proposition for preparing for a gala than trying to change in the women’s restroom.”
“You have no idea the places I’ve had to slip into in heels and stockings. Until you’ve had to set pin curls by firelight and hope your head didn’t freeze, you’ve not done true undercover work.”
“I don’t think that was ever going to be a problem for me,” Coulson teased, running a hand across his short-cropped, thinning hair. “We’ll be in town for a while, at least till we can get to Stark. I don’t think he’s going to let us in that easy.”
“I don’t think he’ll let you in at all, but good luck,” Romanoff called cheerfully as they made their way out. “Have fun!”
Peggy glanced towards Coulson who only held up a warning hand. “I don’t know with Natasha. If you want to figure it out, I suggest talking to her.”
Peggy grimaced. That was not a bull she wanted to take by the horns.