Chapter 33
Burk was the one to message them with the details.
“What do we know?” Coulson asked as they sat in a requisitioned conference room, Burk on the other end of the video line. The expression on the other man's round face behind his thick glasses was grim.
“It looks like a hit. Everyone in the camp was slaughtered. It was reported to the NATO command in the area, and they investigated. They assessed that it was another local war criminal who took them out.”
The images he had provided them were grim indeed. Bodies lay in the sand, lined up and shot like an execution. The visceral memory of other such sites shook Peggy even as she remembered these men were terrorists who just weeks ago were murdering innocent civilians. They hadn’t been gunned down in crossfire or even battle, they’d been taken out by someone who wanted it to seem like rival war criminals finally getting their due.
“Is there any evidence there was a group working against them?” Coulson spoke aloud Peggy’s very own doubts.
“Not really. There is some evidence a caravan of heavily armored trucks made their way there, but if they did, the Ten Rings thought they were friendly because they let them in. There wasn’t any sign of much of a conflict.”
Peggy could guess who it might have been. “Where were Stane’s whereabouts?”
Burk’s smile was dark. “Funny you should ask. Been tracking his communications. He’d put one through to Raza to meet with him. The date on the message was a week before the Stark Gala. I’m guessing this was why.”
“Cleaning up his tracks,” Coulson observed, glancing at Peggy. “The Ten Rings goofed up. He wanted them to kill Stark, but they didn’t. Now he has to do it. He removed them before anyone else could find them. Given the fact they’ve been splashed all over the news of late after Gulmira, someone was bound to notice something, and he couldn’t have that.”
“And now we can’t link him with them either,” Peggy frowned, thinking. “Is he back in the US yet, Burk?”
“From what I can tell from his communications, yeah, he got back sometime yesterday.”
“Which means I will hopefully hear from him soon,” she observed, dryly glancing between Coulson and Burk on the screen beyond. “He’s smart enough to know SHIELD is on to him, and I think he hopes to shut us up.”
“That’s a lot of cojones even for him,” Coulson grumbled.
“Not if you read his communications,” Burk countered. “It’s the game he plays. Any opposition he finds, be it governmental or otherwise, he woos them in with bribes and promises. Why should SHIELD be any different?”
“Well, we will see what Mr. Stane tries to woo me with,” Peggy shrugged, to Burk’s amusement and Coulson’s consternation.
They didn’t have to wait long. By mid-morning, Peggy received a call from his assistant, the cool and diffident Nicole Sprague, who asked if she would be willing to meet Mr. Stane at his offices at Stark Industries. Peggy agreed without hesitation, even if Coulson had plenty of them.
“You sure you are going to be okay driving down there?” On their first trip to the city, Peggy had balked at the idea of getting behind the wheel with the amount of traffic and chaos she saw on the roads. Now, she merely nodded her head as she familiarized herself with the SHIELD requisition vehicle, so sleek and far more modern than anything she was used to. She’d driven precisely four times since arriving in January 2010, and all had been white-knuckle affairs.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, even if she didn’t feel it. “These things have computers. They practically drive for you, right?”
Her whimsical smile did nothing to alleviate Coulson’s nervous grimace. “If anything goes down at all, you let us know. Romanoff can be on scene to find you until the calvary arrives.’
“Believe it or not, I do know how to take care of myself,” Peggy shot back tartly but without much heat. “I was doing this before you were born.”
“You only get to say that because you time traveled in time, you know.”
“Well, at least let me get to say it once or twice.” She shot him a cheeky grin as she pressed a button that magically started the car, a feature she couldn’t help but feel delighted in. “Honestly, if we had this back in the day, I’d never have had to hotwire a car.”
“Be safe,” Coulson sighed as she rolled up the window in his face with a wave and slowly made her way out of the SHIELD parking structure, fascinated by the talking computer voice giving her directions out onto the street and the freeway beyond.
Peggy arrived at Stark Industries relatively unscathed and only a little worse for wear. Just as she had months ago when she’d come with Coulson to Tony's press conference, Peggy marveled at the campus laid out around her and the scope of Howard’s ambition. Had someone told her when she met him in 1940 that the cocky, hotshot engineer courting the US Army and the SSR would create this place from the fruits of his genius, she likely wouldn’t have believed it. Then again, she had to ask herself how much of this was Stane’s hand over Howard’s imagination.
Peggy announced herself at the reception desk, a fresh-faced young woman nodding as she placed a call to someplace in the building, with a lot more grace than Peggy had been shown when she went to visit Stane in New York. She waited politely on a leather chair, flipping mildly through an engineering magazine touting the latest of Stark Industry innovations, when the booming voice of Stane himself called her name across the wide, bright lobby.
“Miss Carter,” he greeted, all smiles under his silvery goatee. “I’m glad I got to catch you while you were in town.”
“Mr. Stane,” she replied, setting the magazine aside and taking his hand as she stood. “It’s a pleasure.”
“Your drive all right?” He was all affability as he led her through the halls of the building. They were not particularly tall, but bright and filled with natural light.
“Well enough, all things considered.”
That elicited a knowing chuckle out of him. “Welcome to LA traffic! I say if you live in a place as gorgeous as this, you've got to have a bit of payback. Where are you staying here?”
“Downtown,” she replied easily enough. She didn’t have to give him details beyond that. “It must be difficult, maintaining offices both here and in New York.”
His broad shoulders shrugged under his suit coat. “I’m used to it, don’t even think of it much nowadays. The cost of doing business, you know, hardly the only one living the jet-setting lifestyle.”
As he chatted, amiably, they meandered through offices and clusters of workers here and there. Down one side hallway, Peggy picked up a knot of four women chatting together. In the middle of it, she spotted the familiar dark, red hair of Romanoff, neatly swept up on the sides and top in a clip of some kind, wearing the same sort of office wear that the rest of them did. If she noticed Peggy at all, she didn’t look her way, simply laughing and chatting with another young woman, a brunette, who sounded as if she were discussing plans for a long weekend.
Peggy continued, her steps keeping up with Stane’s longer strides. “How was your trip abroad?”
He didn’t even display a flicker at her seemingly innocuous question. “Enlightening, but most of it was business as usual. Got to press the flesh and make all the promises, keep up all the appearances.”
“It must be difficult after Stark’s pronouncement about weapons manufacturing.”
“Not going to lie, it doesn't make my job easy. People want to know if this is the actual new direction for the company.”
“And is it?” Peggy felt she could at least play his game.
Stane’s only answer was to smile.
They did finally come to elevators, which opened up onto a level of what was executive suites. Through the bright windows, Peggy could see acres of buildings, a well-manicured plaza with swooping, aerodynamic artwork, and in the not-so-far distance, the glittering gray-blue of the Pacific Ocean. The carpet muffled their steps as they wandered past the offices of senior-level executives to the most high-end offices. One suit was marked “Office of the Chief Executive Officer - Anthony Stark”. Just inside the quiet atmosphere, Peggy could see several desks, all manned by a woman of older years, who waved politely at Stane’s call.
“Don’t work too hard, Bambi,” he cheerfully teased as he continued. “Tony’s secretary used to be Howard's back in the day. Don’t let the name fool you, she’s one of the hardest-working assistants I’ve seen. Puts up with no guff.”
What the woman’s name had to do with her ability to do her job, Peggy didn’t know, but she chose to remain silent as they entered Stane’s sanctum. Much like Tony’s office, it was marked with his name and was almost as palatial. Unlike his office in New York, however, which had been sparse and neutral, this was more formal. The outer office was filled with shelves containing awards, models, various commandments, and several members of his staff, notably none of which was the notorious Nicole Sprague.
“Come in,” Sane offered, walking her into his own expansive space. Much more than his New York office, this appeared to be a workspace, with a desk containing paperwork and a conference table with more folders, papers, and drafts. He had her sit in one leather chair in front of his massive desk overlooking the main plaza, bathed in sunlight behind him.
“How has your business in Los Angeles been this week?” He was all charm and friendliness as she settled, crossing her legs under her pencil skirt at the knee, primly sitting up straight in her no-nonsense suit.
“Tedious,” she said honestly, though she didn’t explain to him why. “Still, it’s work that had to be done.”
“Of course,” he leaned back into his own, rather large leather chair, regarding her from across the cluttered expanse of his desk. “Did you get a chance to chat with Tony after all?”
She suspected he knew she didn’t. “No, unfortunately, we’ve not been able to connect.”
She would give Stane this, he was a very good actor when he wanted to be. “Ahh, well, it’s still difficult for him, I know. Have you given much thought to our discussion from the gala?”
Peggy arched an eyebrow at him as she gave the impression of deep consideration. “What purpose would you have for someone like myself?”
“Oh, I don’t know. You’re very resourceful. Smart, elegant, charismatic, a woman who takes the opportunity when she gets it. I think we can bring you on somewhere.”
“Outside of a handful of meetings, you and I have barely spoken. What gave you that impression of me?”
“I’ve been asking around,” he smiled, flipping through some files on his desk.
“So you said,” Peggy watched as he pulled one stack over to sit in front of him. “You also said you didn’t find much.”
“Oh, I didn’t,” he assured her with a wry grin. “Not at first, at least. I mean, I know you said a SHIELD employee would work hard to hide their identity, and I own that was a good excuse, very sensible too, but I know people who know people, even in SHIELD, and I’m very good at finding the information I want when I want it.”
Curiosity and dread mingled as she cocked a crooked smile that was more confident than Peggy felt at the moment. “And what makes you so confident I have anything to hide?”
“Who doesn’t have anything to hide? I do, else you wouldn’t be trying to talk to Tony, now would you?” A sharp edge finally cut through his charm, predatory and confident all at once. “You play cards at all, Miss Carter?”
“I’ve played a fair amount, yes.” She refused to quake even as she could guess that Stane was well aware the jig was up. “How about yourself?”
“Oh, I’ve played it in my time. What do you say we lay our cards on the table, you and I?”
“That is something of a gamble. You sure that’s what you want?”
"SHIELD wouldn’t be SHIELD if you didn’t already know the truth, so let’s be honest with each other in our negotiations. Let me guess, you know about arms dealing behind the scenes? Figured out how Stark weaponry is getting in the hands of those outside of regulated channels?”
“That wasn’t a particularly hard trail to follow,” Peggy hedged, letting him think what he would on how they found out. “A rather handy side business you have there.”
“Thank you, took me years to build it up.”
“All under the Starks’ noses?” She just did hide her outrage at that.
“That wasn’t hard to do at all, neither of them paid attention.” Stane lazily pulled a file, flicking it open. “Howard was always caught up in something else - the Arc Reactor, his alcoholism, his marriage problems, SHIELD.”
His knowledge of Howard's connection to SHIELD did catch Peggy by surprise, but she didn’t flinch as Stane eyed her, speculative. “Yeah, I figured that part out ages ago. Pity he never told Tony. It might have smoothed some things out between the two of them, but you know, it worked out for me in the end. All Tony ever saw of his father was a bitter, overworked man who just wanted his kid to stop being a show-off idiot for once in his life. Howard never knew what he got in that kid, you know. Damn shame.”
Peggy swallowed hard before speaking. “You were dealing with the Ten Rings, then?”
“Sure,” he replied without even a hint of shame. “As was the US, the UK, most of the NATO allies, really, and Russia, Iran, Israel, all the usual suspects. Those guys were well connected, so it was hardly just me they were buying from. Just happened to be me who profited the most.”
“Why?”
Stane hardly seemed perturbed by the hint of criticism from her. “That’s how you play the game of global strategy. You work in the game, you know this. We don’t like Communists, so we go and fund governments and leaders who are friendly to the West. The Soviets don’t like the West. They foster Communist regimes in postcolonial nations. Having a bit of a diplomatic spat with a country? Give money and arms to a group you know gives them problems to distract them enough to get your way? In the middle of a particularly nasty election cycle? Stir up a terrorist threat somewhere and make everyone afraid enough that they don’t care that we have to go to war. Or you could just do it because there are resources there you want to take: oil, diamonds, uranium, you name it.”
Peggy knew of these things in theory thanks to her weeks of study and through general osmosis in her months at SHIELD, but she hadn’t lived through this harsh, Cold War world. The idea of the jaded, casual view Stane had on the taking of life for political and economic gain, nauseated her. “That is a cynical take on the world.”
“Cynical or not, it is how the world operates, and I’m a businessman who is playing the cards I have in front of me. It’s made Stark Industries into the international powerhouse it is today, far more than any of Tony’s new toys and gadgets.”
“What would your old friend Howard have to say about what you’ve turned his company into,” Peggy shot back, mildly, tamping down her anger at the outrage of what Stane was suggesting.
“You mean Howard Stark, the man who built his empire off of selling weapons to the Allies during the war? The same man who outfitted the United States government for decades? The same one who helped to create an espionage organization just to control global politics? That Howard Stark?”
He was taunting her, but Peggy didn’t take the bait. “You didn’t tell him about any of it when he was alive, so you had to have an inkling that he would lodge some objection.”
Stane response was to only laugh out loud at that. “You are smart, very, very smart. Yeah, alright, I knew Howard wouldn’t go for it. After that Anton Vanko situation with the Arc Reactor research, I knew he’d never agree to anything less than legal. He’d been burned by that once before.”
“Had he?” She kept her tone to polite curiosity. It only made Stane more amused, the corners of his wide mouth curling up to a smirk that narrowed his bright eyes to dark slits. Chuckling, he carefully picked up the folder in front of him to turn it around and place it before her on the desk.
“I think you of all people would know. After all, someone who looked very much like you got him off the hook when he was wanted for selling weapons to enemies of the United States.”
Peggy only let her eyes flicker to the black and white photo on the top, one of her infernal photographs that Howard had plastered practically everywhere. Internally she swore, loudly, as panic set her heart to beating erratically, but outwardly she shrugged, giving Stane as dubious an expression as she could manage. “Something of a likeness, I do admit.”
“Strange how that works,” Stane replied, lacing his fingers over his middle as he leaned back, relaxed, the leather of his chair creaking with the shift. “Same face, same name, same accent, I imagine, being that she was English.”
“Ahh, well, everyone did say I looked just like her. Good thing they named me for her, isn’t it?”
Doubt never crossed Stane’s smugness. “There is no record for a Margaret Carter with SHIELD before nine months ago. There was a rather interesting FBI report, however, from 1949. A young woman, Margaret “Peggy” Carter, age 27, matching your exact description, said to be a senior operative and director at SHIELD, who disappeared on New Year's Eve coming home from a party at Howard Stark’s Manhattan residence. Multiple investigations, including one from SHIELD, turned up not a whole lot. She just...vanished.”
“So they said,” Peggy calmly rejoindered, all the while her brain spinning as she tried to piece together who could have possibly leaked information like this. Not that SHIELD had tried very hard to keep it secret, heaven knew the entire agency was aware of it. How could they not be when Howard had stuck her picture up in every goddamn building with the SHIELD logo on it? It was so open she was sure someone likely mentioned it off-handed to someone else, not even thinking, which meant Stane had his own eyes and ears in SHIELD.
Stane studied her, watching her with distant, cool appreciation. “You are good, very good! So, tell me, how did they manage it? I know SHIELD is up to some insane stuff they never talk about, all hushed up in their labs. They think we don’t know about it, but you hear things. So what is it? You look too much like the real deal for a simple case of brainwashing someone who looks similar to the original. My bet is cloning, then memory implantation.”
“If this is some sort of joke, Mr. Stane…”
“No joke, Miss Carter.” His affability turned dour on a dime. “I am putting my cards on the table. I know who you are, I know why SHIELD sent you on this errand, I know why you are so interested in Tony Stark. I have a pretty good idea you know what I’ve been up to as well.”
So here they were, at an impasse.
Peggy decided to cut through the Gordian knot rather than continue to stare at it. “So, if you know I’m aware of you and your dealings, why bring me in.”
“Like I told you, you're smart, capable, good at what you do. You know all the shit I have and I know something about you as well.” He nodded at the file. “We are grown-up, reasonable adults, Miss Carter. We can agree.”
“On what?” She couldn’t believe he had the gall to even suggest this. “A mad story about a dead woman who appeared out of nowhere to investigate Tony Stark’s disappearance?”
“Oh, I don’t deny it’s mad. But you see, I start talking and there are a lot of my friends, my very dear business associates, who might start asking a lot of awkward questions regarding SHIELD and some of their scientific research, people who know people on the World Security Council. The UN might start wanting a report on just what sort of biological and human experiments SHIELD is running, and I don’t know if they will appreciate that sort of thing or you because of that. And if I know a thing or two about secretive organizations like yours. They would much rather cover up their tracks and eliminate loose ends than be sentimental about it.”
Peggy latched on to that to twist it on him. “Is that what you are doing then, eliminating loose ends without sentimentality?”
“Tony? I wouldn’t say it is completely unsentimental. After all, I did watch him grow up.” Stane’s affectation sounded cloying now rather than sentimental and sad. “But Tony had his chance. I gave him every opportunity, but he didn’t take it. For every stroke of brilliance on his part I’d have to waste time and money fixing yet another fuck up from him. I’m here, keeping this global enterprise afloat, while he’s balls deep in cocaine and hookers and then looking at me to somehow fix it all and make it better when it all goes ass up on him. Never knew a day of responsibility in his life. Hell, Howard bailed him out of more boarding schools and jail cells than he cared to think about, but never once did he teach the kid how to own up to his actions and what they mean, not that Howard was able to do that himself. So here I am, left holding the bag on the brat after Howard’s death. For a while, it was fine, as long as he kept cranking out new ideas and making us money, I could put up with the rest of his bullshit. After twenty years, a man gets tired of it.”
The raw resentment and frustration of Stane’s diatribe shook Peggy as she watched his scowl darken dangerously. Here was a man stewing on forty years of resentment, focusing all of that rage and frustration on a man whom he had known from his infancy. The idea of it appalled her, just as much as she was heartbroken for Tony.
“You must truly hate him,” she murmured with as much quiet control as she could muster.
Her observation quelled him somewhat. “Hate? Not really, annoyed is more like it. Honestly, I’ve had this company for years. His family name may be on the building, the checks, and every bomb we ever drop, but I’m the one who runs it in reality, if not in fact. I’ve put in four decades in this place, holding it together while the Starks went and played mad engineer in the corner, and what do I get out of it? I’m left to clean up the messes they make. And there is Tony. It’s not enough he got to inherit all of Howard’s genius, he has the company I poured all my work into.”
“One could say his genius is part of why there is a company.”
“Please, engineers are a dime a dozen here, and they all can come up with perfectly lethal weapons that do their job without the bells and whistles. Sure, Tony's brilliant. He has changed the entire game. But there will be other Tonys. CalTech and MIT are crawling with them. You don’t need a genius to build a better bomb.”
That was what he was banking on, at least. Peggy wasn’t so sure his gamble would pay off. “So where do I fit in this picture?”
His triumph beamed as he flipped his chair forward. “Now that’s what I’m talking about! Reasonable adults coming to an understanding.”
Stane reached across the desk, to the file with her face sitting on top of it, and snagged it to pull it closer to him with his long fingers. “Tell SHIELD if they lay off their investigation, I’ll keep quiet about their science experiments. They leave this alone, I leave them alone.”
“All right,” she murmured smoothly, an easy enough lie. “And what do I get out of it?”
“Ahhh, well, glad to know that whatever you are, clone, brainwashed spy, you aren’t as high and mighty as I heard the real Peggy Carter was.” He seemed pleased by this. “If you get them to stand down, perhaps you and I can talk about future ventures, ways we can bring Stark Industries and my work to SHIELD, ways I feel could benefit everyone around, especially yourself. After all, we were all once so close together, before Howard’s death. We could be again.”
There was another suggestion in that, one regarding her and closeness. It struck her again how subtle Stane was with it. She was sure it had wooed many other clients and potential bed partners. He wasn’t even hiding the fact he was interested in the latter, and she sighed, using that uncomfortable truth to her advantage. “I’m willing to consider it if you agree to not harm Tony Stark. Remove him from his company if you must, but don’t harm him. He’s got powerful friends of his own looking out for him.”
Stane’s gaze narrowed, but he shrugged amiably in agreement. “Done! I’ll leave him to his surfboards and bevy of beautiful women. His trust fund is rich enough to keep him in high style for a while. I just want what I worked for.”
Peggy wanted to believe him but didn’t. “I’ve seen the video, Stane, of your friends in Afghanistan. How do I know you aren’t going to pay someone else off to make it look like an unfortunate accident?”
“No wonder SHIELD loves you. You’re as paranoid as Fury,” he groused. “I won’t lay a hand on his head. Do we have a deal?”
Peggy would rather punch him in his straight teeth. Instead, she rose, holding out a hand. “I’ll talk to Fury and see what he agrees to.”
Stane looked ready to protest, but her glare gave in. He took her hand to shake firmly. “I look forward to seeing what he says. And even if he isn’t in favor of it, perhaps you and I can work out a more personal arrangement.”
Peggy let her mouth curl up vaguely, promising nothing. “Perhaps, I’ll have to think about it.”
“Don’t think too long. I think it would be unfortunate to all parties involved if we let it drag out too long.”
Peggy heard the implied threat loud and clear. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Stane nodded, pleased by the answer. “Right, let me show you out then. Care to see the facilities at all? I can arrange a tour.”
“I really should be getting back,” Peggy begged off, as much out of her urge to maim him as from her need to get back to SHIELD as soon as possible. “I have a feeling I will need some time to put this before Fury in the right way.”
“Of course,” Stane assured her, gracefully, showing her to the door and out through the main reception area. “I look forward to our future endeavors.”
There was no missing the predatory look in his eye. Peggy only just managed to make her polite goodbyes as she walked pointedly out of the office and towards the elevator beyond. She held her breath, not even pulling out her infernal phone as she waited for the doors to open, her steps firm as she sought to put as much distance between herself and Stane. Consequently, she didn’t see the lithe body just to the side of her until she clipped it with a shoulder, papers flying everywhere, scattered on the tile floor.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” The apology flew out of her, even as the shock of dark auburn hair clicked with her as being Romanoff. The other woman staged a show of dismay at the mess that had turned the head of several other Stark Industries office workers, curious as to the ruckus. Without missing a beat, Peggy bent to start gathering scattered pages, full of apologies.
“What a mess! I’m so sorry! Are you all right?” She started scooping up pieces of paper, heedless of any order as crouched beside a flushed Romanoff.
“Fine, just an accident! Wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking.” Her smile was friendly and open, a far cry from the Romanoff she dealt with every day. It was her cover, Peggy realized, as she passed over the stack she had gathered with an apologetic smile.
“I don’t think I was either,” she explained, pushing herself back up as she offered a hand to Romanoff to do the same. “Bit of a difficult conversation, learning something new about a person, confirming what you suspected. But I’m all right, all things considered.”
Romanoff’s friendly smile, so out of place on her otherwise carefully neutral face, relaxed a fraction. “Well, glad to hear the last bit of that. Still, no harm, no foul.” She waived a hand at the papers in her arms.”
“Good. Again, sorry for the mess.”
“Have a good day.” With a cheery wave, she turned to go back down the hall, so fully in character it took Peggy a moment to remember this was the same taciturn woman who had resented her since she laid eyes on her.
She made her way to her vehicle, eyes roaming for anyone following her. She didn’t trust Stane not to try. He at least felt comfortable enough not to openly have someone follow her on the Stark Industries campus. Still, she had her gun holstered near the small of her back in the same sort of holder Sharon used, a more convenient method than hiding it up a skirt. She unlocked the vehicle with her fingertips, gaze wary as she got inside, pressing the button to start it.
As much as she felt overwhelmed by the high tech of the car and the traffic in the city, Peggy braved both to use the strange computer the car was included with - really, must people put computers in everything in the future - and figured out just how to dial Coulson directly as she pulled the vehicle out of the drive and into traffic.
He answered on the first ring. “Coulson.”
“We have a bit of a situation,” Peggy began without preamble, eyeing the receding Stark Industries building in the rearview window behind her. “Stane appears to be fully aware of who I am.”
Coulson swore, loudly, on the other end of the line.