Chapter 30
Cursing silently, Peggy pivoted to smile at Obadiah Stane as he wandered up, looking admittedly dashing in his tuxedo with its white scarf. He was always ridiculously presentable and neat, Peggy noted to herself as he climbed the steps to her. He couldn’t possibly ever look discombobulated or not put together, not if he wanted to set himself up as the sober, clear-thinking, steady new leader for Stark Industries. She smiled graciously before glancing towards where Stark stood in the distance. The valet returned with a ridiculously loud sports car, grinning as he climbed out of it and accepted a tip from Stark. Peggy bit back the expletive before turning again to Stane.
“Hoping to catch Tony?”
Stane was perceptive, and Peggy saw no reason to deny it. “Oh, yes, I wanted to check in on him, see how he was doing.”
“He’s getting there, I guess.” Stane’s pleasant expression grew sad as Stark pulled down the street at nearly full speed, his engine roaring. “Tonight was a big night for him, coming out, seeing folks. It was a good try, but I think it got to be too much for him.”
Peggy would give Stane this; he was good, very good, spinning his excuses, painting a picture to the public of poor, mad, sad Tony Stark, whom he worries so about, even while presenting the picture of Stark’s opposite. He admittedly wasn’t half bad at selling it, and had she been anyone else, she might have. She was starting to see why Howard would have liked Stane. “Well, when you see him next, tell him I said hello and that SHIELD is still hoping to chat with him.”
“If SHIELD thinks they can convince Tony any better than the US military can, they got another thing coming. Tony’s adamant about the weapons thing, and till I can talk him out of it, he’s not budging.”
Peggy danced around that roadblock easily enough. “We weren’t interested in asking Mr. Stark about his weapons. We wanted to discuss what he went through, that’s all.”
Mild irritation flickered beneath the charming facade. “He made his statements months ago, didn’t he?”
“That he did, to the US Military.”
“See, there you go. Couldn’t you get that from Rhodey?”
He hadn’t forgotten that Rhodes was the one who approached them. Likely, he still resented it. “As accommodating as Colonel Rhodes is, we’ve come on new information that we feel we should bring to Mr. Stark’s attention. I’m hoping to get him to chat with us soon.”
“Ahh, well, Tony’s been seeing few people now at days, even me. You might have a chance if you get on Pepper’s calendar, though, but that’s if you convince her.”
“We are working on that.” Peggy pulled on all of the grace and poise her mother had tried to drill into her in her youth to meet Stane’s politeness with her own. He might have the press and even much of Stark Industries eating out of his hand, but he hadn’t been tutored in etiquette in Amanda Carter’s drawing room. “We’ve had a word of just who took Mr. Stark and why they were interested in him.”
“Really? I heard from Rhodes they were just insurgents, the sort that they’ve been dealing with for years in the region.”
“He’s not completely wrong,” Peggy temporized, considering her options. It would be a gamble telling Stane what she knew, but in doing so, it might force his hand somewhat. He could become reckless, do something rash, and leave the door open for them to follow. “There is a group known as the Ten Rings, one of several such groups, but they are well funded and well connected and seemed to have a particular interest in Mr. Stark’s skill set. We guess that they searched through their allies to find Stark’s movements so they could kidnap him.”
Stane’s facade didn’t even drop an inch. “And do they pose a threat now?”
“Perhaps,” she lifted one white shoulder. “But then I don’t have clearance to tell you that.”
That earned an honest chuckle out of him. “Clever! I can see why you sit in the position you do.”
“Oh, well, that! I just happened to be the only one willing to take on the difficult sort of jobs. I don’t know how clever that makes me.”
Stane nodded in understanding as he glanced back towards the concert hall. “So how did you get an invitation to a swank party like this?”
“People in Mr. Stark’s office, I assume.” Peggy spooled out a plausible enough story for him. “The tickets were passed on to us with a brief note of gratitude for the work put into finding Mr. Stark. I thought it was a gesture of thanks from him.”
“Perhaps it was. Tony is always so unpredictable in these things. Knowing him, he did it on a whim and didn’t want anyone to know he did.” His blue eyes slid back down to hers. “Would you be willing to indulge an old man, Miss Carter, and perhaps join me for a dance?”
It wasn’t the worst plan in the world. After all, the one thing she did remember from her earliest training was that men always seeking to show off to a lady while they had her in their arms. But something about the idea of this man, one who she knew had worked to undermine her friend’s company and tried to have his son killed, turned her cold.
“I find, Mr. Stane, I tend to be a poor dancer without the right sort of partner,” she rejoined politely. “Perhaps a drink instead?”
He inclined his bald head at that. “All right, drink it is! You the wine sort of lady?”
“I’d take a bourbon now since you are asking.”
“Ahh, a woman after my taste.” He offered his arm. Peggy took it, not wanting to be rude, carefully navigating the steps back up. “I have to admit, Miss Carter, I find you very intriguing.”
“Is that so?” She kept her tone light and teasing despite the creeping dread his words engendered. “Why in particular, Mr. Stane?’
He gave a cavalier shrug inside of his great coat. “You confronted me directly, outwitted my assistant, managed to find Tony in the middle of a desert, and even found the group responsible for it. You do all that and ask why I find you impressive.”
“It is all a part of my job, Mr. Stane, no more and no less.”
They maneuvered back inside again, toward the bar with its small cluster of guests. Stane waved at the bartender, holding up a $100 bill. “Two of the best bourbons you’ve got, please. Straight for me.”
“The same,” Peggy echoed at his inquiring glance. The bartender rushed off to meet his fat tip while Stane watched him with bored benevolence.
“You know, the first job I had on my own was as a bartender at a golf course up in the Bay area. The pay was laughable, and I knew nothing about alcohol, but the guy who manned the bar, Gus, used to work on Union Pacific trains back in the day. You ever take one of the old trains with the fancy dining cars?”
She had, but she didn’t think those were a thing anymore. “I know the concept, yes.”
“Gus had been everywhere and knew every sort of alcohol you could get your hands on. He used to say the best bourbon was found in these little stills just outside of Bourbon County, not the big commercial ones. Anyway, he taught me all I ever knew on the subject. One thing he said was that the great stuff is made by those who have patience, who nurture and care for each batch and each barrel, and who oversee every step of the production. When you put that sort of love and care into a product - into a name, really - it shines on the back end. When it’s a mass-produced sort of thing, you don’t know who is doing what, where you are getting the grain, or who is monitoring the fermentation. All you're doing is collecting a paycheck while someone else does all the hard work.”
Stane wasn't precisely subtle in his metaphors, Peggy noted dryly, as the bartender returned with their requested potables. Peggy wrapped her fingers around the glass, holding it up in a brief salute. “A salute to Gus, then, the man who set you on your path?”
Stane held gamely and met her glass with his in a quiet toast. “To Gus.”
They sipped their liquor slowly. Peggy savored the brief hit of liquid, burning across her tongue and down her throat, hints of vanilla and caramel firing as she regarded the amber liquid. “That is a nice one.”
“It’s not bad,” Stane conceded, setting his glass down in front of him, the light from the bar top shining golden through the tumbler’s bottom. “I’ll say, nearly fifty years on, and I’ve developed a taste for the finer things in life, including my alcohol.”
“I suppose as we all age and mature, we learn more about the world, our perceptions change.” Peggy swirled her glass, more as a thing to do with her hands. “Is there something you wish to speak with me about?”
“No,” he shrugged, leaning on the bar to look out at the bar room. “I suppose more than anything I wanted to chat with a beautiful woman. Wonder what SHIELD’s interest in Tony is.”
“Ahh, we’ve established there are things that I can’t tell you.”
“Yes, we did.” He chuckled, seemingly charmed by her strict adherence to protocol. “I have to say, Miss Carter, I was very intrigued by you. Tried to do a bit of looking up about you, but you are fairly mysterious. A place in New York, dual citizenship, a business card, and not a lot else.”
Peggy had wondered if he would try, and she had wondered if SHIELD had put anything out there about her. They had tried to keep that as minimal as possible. “In my line of work, Mr. Stane, it doesn’t benefit anyone to have my life out there for anyone to easily find.”
“Of course not, but you can’t blame a man for trying.”
She could, she thought darkly, sensing the game he was playing. While she could easily shut it down, she doubted a man with an ego the size of Stane’s would appreciate it. Unlike Howard, who had respected her for puncturing his ego in his own, strange way, Stane would simply shut down if she tried it on him. This was at least an opening, even if it wasn’t ideal.
“Mr. Stane, precisely what is your interest in me that you would want to find out more?”
“A smart, intelligent, beautiful woman and you ask me that?”
Peggy only just did stop herself from rolling her eyes. “I’m afraid that flattery gets most people nowhere.”
“So it seems.” He didn’t appear to be bothered by that. “You're a mystery to me, Miss Carter and a woman with your talents could go far working for Stark Industries, especially given the new direction it is going.”
“Do you mean in terms of shifting focus in the production of weapons or the demands from the board for a change in leadership?” Her smile over her glass was pointed. She might as well put her cards on the table and let Stane look at them. For his part, it only seemed to impress him further.
“I knew I was right about you, Miss Carter. There will be changes, yes, ones that could perhaps benefit those who are wise enough to jump in now, help guide and direct a new era of Stark Industries.”
How many times had he given this speech? How many other dupes had he dangled this carrot in the hopes of sucking them into his other schemes, wrapping them up into it, and having them manage the dirty work of war and profit? “And you think I would leave the nice job I have right now for that?”
“Must be annoying that a man like Fury sits at the top spot when you are so capable yourself.”
Peggy would have laughed out loud at that if she wasn’t trying to play along. He had no idea who she was, or who she had been. If he did, he wouldn’t have tried this angle. “Director Fury does his job quite well.”
“So I’ve heard, but your what, half his age? More than that? And already you sit where you do? You can’t tell me you aren’t gunning for that.”
Peggy mildly mused that she was technically old enough to be Fury’s mother...Stane’s too, for that matter. “Fury has to deal with far more than I do.”
“Well, yes, I’m sure, but you could be doing more. I’m saying there is an opportunity for you if you want it.”
The levels of meaning in this conversation were so deep she could have cut through them with a knife. On the one hand, there was that part of her that was pleased to see someone appreciate her abilities openly, even if she knew Stane was pandering to her. At the same time, she couldn't help but notice that some things hadn't changed, either. Peggy would be a fool not to see that he was interested in her for more than her mind and skills, and while the very idea left her skin crawling, she merely shrugged a shoulder as she sipped from her drink, gracing him with an ambiguous smile. “I at least entertain all offers.”
“I can’t imagine that you wouldn’t.” His confidence made Peggy wish very much to punch him in his smug face. She instead demurred, setting aside her drink, uninterested in the very fine alcohol anymore.
“You are a man who interests me as well,” she responded, at least with some honesty, though not in the way he expected. “Perhaps we can speak further while I’m in Los Angeles.”
That pleased him greatly. “I am out of town for the next couple of days, traveling abroad. Set something up with Nicole, if she’s forgiven you for that incident in New York, that is. Perhaps we can have dinner and discuss further.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” she affirmed, wondering how well that conversation would go over. Stane’s assistant had little and less love for Peggy. “Where will your travels be taking you to?”
“Oh, Europe mostly, the usual. I have clients I have to talk down and pacify with everything going on.” His put-upon sigh was a nice bit of acting on his part. “Tony’s new direction has caused a lot more problems than it’s solved.”
“I’m sure if there is anyone who can get it under control, it will be you.” Peggy was amazed the words could even tumble out of her mouth without her choking on them. “I will try to catch you after that.”
“I look forward to it.” His warm smile didn’t quite meet the glitter in his cold, blue eyes. Over his shoulder, she could see Coulson crossing the dance floor, making eye contact with her before moving towards the doors outside.
“I do hope you excuse me, Mr. Stane,” Peggy practically purred. “I do believe it is time for Cinderella to take her carriage back to her hotel. We will talk more soon.”
She held out her hand for him to shake, but to her surprise he swept it up, bringing it to his lips in a courtly gesture that another woman might find charming and old-fashioned. Ro Peggy, it left her feeling disgusted. Still, she kept her fingers loose in his as he brushed his mouth against them tamely. “A pleasure, Miss Carter.”
She turned on her heels, walking as seductively as she could manage, even as she felt the desire to rub her knuckles along the fabric of her thigh, just to rid herself of the sensation. She made it outside before she let the facade fall somewhat, meeting Coulson where he stood on the steps. Something in her expression must have given something away because he watched her with sympathetic concern as she maneuvered to where he stood.
“I called Solarzano, he’s bringing the car around.” He glanced beyond her to the doors she just walked out of. “Stane suspect anything?”
“I’m not sure,” she murmured, glancing around for ears. None were about, but she shot Coulson a warning look all the same. He understood, thankfully, and simply stood quietly as they waited for the ubiquitous black car to pull up.
They didn’t have to wait long, as Solarzano slid up, exchanging pleasantries in Spanish with the valet worker as they managed to climb inside. Once they were buckled in, the car pulled off and into traffic, Solarzano eyeing them both. “Anyone famous there?”
“I think I saw Penelope Cruz,” Coulson offered with a wry smirk, one which Peggy didn’t understand.
“Nice,’ Solarzano sighed the sort that told her that she must be someone famous and attractive. “They never give me that kind of investigatory details.”
“Maybe one day,” Coulson teased. “Anything happened while we were in?”
“Yeah,” Solarzano dug in the console as he drove. Peggy took the opportunity to divest herself of the device in her ear and just inside her dress, working her jaw at her now empty and somewhat sore ear.
“Got a few strange calls into Santa Monica PD tonight, something about a ‘UFO’. They called in Air Traffic Control down by LAX but they got nothing. Whatever it is they were seeing, it was likely too small for the radars to pick it up.” He passed back a folder that Coulson took as Peggy handed Solarzano her device.
“Is it Stark,” she asked as Coulson reviewed it.
“Maybe," he frowned as he flipped through it. “Little more than freaked-out people strolling the Venice boardwalk and a few nosy ladies. Could just as well be teenagers playing around with something.”
“We’ll need to see if there was anyone else with more eyes up in the sky.”
“I’ll make some calls when we get back to the hotel,” Coulson assured her, arching a speculative eyebrow at her. “So, Stane was eager to get close to you.”
“In more ways than one,” she muttered, darkly, rubbing her ear gently. “I think he’s trying to conscript me.”
“Into SI, into his plans, or his bed?”
“Likely all three,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I will give him points for trying at his age. He’s got the distinguished factor going for him. I suspect while he comes off as dignified, he likely isn’t that far behind Stark in his personal life, just far more discrete about it.”
Coulson only made the slightest disturbed frown. “Why is he interested in you?”
Peggy frowned out of the darkly tinted front window, considering. “I think he’s curious, more than anything. And I think he suspects that I’ve figured out a part of it all, if not the whole, and if he can get to me and bring me in, he controls that piece. He’s playing on what he suspects my ambition is, that and his gut instincts.”
Worry creased Coulson’s brow. “He doesn’t know who you are, does he?”
“I don’t think so, or at least he didn’t seem to. He looked, he admitted as much, but Hill has been very careful what she puts out there. I played it off simply as standard protocol for an intelligence officer.”
“But why would he single you out?”
That admittedly did niggle at her. “I think only because he recognized me and saw me going after Stark. I think he fears we may know something, or might be able to sway Stark another way. Whatever the case, he kept me occupied and away from talking to Stark, so I suppose it worked.”
Coulson didn’t look pleased. “He’s not stupid. If he’s run this operation for decades, he can figure out an obvious ploy.”
“Which is why we go around him. What about Potts?”
Coulson’s mood didn’t improve anymore at that question. “I managed to catch her on the terrace, pen her in as you said. I think she was expecting Stark to come right back. When he didn’t, I pressed the advantage. She got me on her calendar for a week from Wednesday.”
“Not sooner?” They’d be stuck in Los Angeles waiting otherwise.
“I was lucky to get even that. She’s got me down for a 4 o’clock. Honestly, if she wasn’t preoccupied with Stark wandering off I don’t think I would have gotten that. Where did he go?”
“Not sure,” Peggy replied, recalling his abrupt departure. “He was speaking with a woman, a blonde. She passed him photographs and he grew agitated and went out to confront Stane. He left right after that, clearly upset, but I got cut off before I could get to him.”
“Think we could find out who the blonde was?”
“If we get a guest list with photographs, perhaps. Whatever she had to tell him, he wasn’t happy.”
“I wonder if Stark’s starting to get the idea of what Stane is up to.”
“If he is,” Peggy sighed as they pulled in front of their fabulous hotel. “We will need to stop Stane before he puts it all together. And if he’s anything like his father, that will be much sooner rather than later.”
That was the grim thought she took with her to her fabulous room, with its fabulous bath, and its fabulous bed. Peggy flopped down on the pillow soft mattress, unbuckling her shoes to toe them off before snuggling against the cloud of pillows, considering her evening and her discussion with Stane, of the way he tried to insinuate himself to her. She rubbed her knuckles against the soft bedspread, dispelling the brush of his kiss on them, willing herself not to seethe at his audacity in asking her to dance. She had a role to play, she recognized that, but there was something of it all that left her wanting to scrape her skin clean before going to bed, that reminder of how he was not the sort of man she would have danced with, ever.
That inevitably led to thoughts of Steve, of promises made and dances not had. It had been a long time since she had...Jason, was it? Daniel never really could. It was hard to find a partner to sweep her off her feet. For all of her calm under fire tonight, her smiles, her cool flirtation with Stane, she found she missed desperately Steve and his shy smiles, his shuffling steps, the uncertainty that came from a combination of nerves and the mysterious newness of having a woman interested in him at all. All the things that she encountered tonight were not.
"Soon," she sighed, holding a pillow close in her exhaustion. "Hopefully, soon."