Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Steve pulled over, killing the engine. The Civic, a rip-off investment, wheezed with exertion.
He checked his imagine in the rearview mirror. Mets cap, wayfarers, full beard. A way’s off from Captain America’s usual groomed appearance. It might not throw off the pros, but it’d been plenty for spiritless airport staff.
He eyed up the diner, let himself in through a creaking door. A couple in the corner, some locals at the bar. Steve slid into a booth with view of the parking lot.
“Coffee?”
He went through the motions of ‘yes, please’ and ‘thank you’ and ‘no milk for me’.
“I’ll be right back to pick up your order.”
He paged through the menu before setting it aside, uninspired. Maybe another seven hours, eight if traffic was slow. Then he’d hopefully know more.
“Long way from home.”
He looked up, startled. Not the waitress from before.
Blonde, frames, chewy. Natasha Romanoff lived her alter-egos.
Steve hadn’t seen it coming, but he wasn’t surprised. Everyone who’s anyone gyrated around Stark’s disappearance.
A gun cocked under the table.
Steve frowned. “We’re on opposite teams again?”
“You tell me.” Natasha chewed, popped her gum obnoxiously. He felt the barrel against his thigh.
“The hair-do,” he lauded. “Almost didn’t recognize you.”
“Best place in Vladivostok.” She gave him a once-over. “They have a barber, too.”
“What are we playing here, Natasha?”
“A game you didn’t read the rules for, apparently.”
He sipped at his coffee. Maybe no milk had been a mistake. A bitter aftertaste settled on his palate. Over-extracted grounds.
“And you’re here to talk me out of it?”
Natasha smiled, but the gun stayed in place.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
It was dangerously familiar. A treacherous visit down memory lane. The two of them, boondocks road trip, a daredevil conspiracy to be uncovered.
He flipped open the manila folder, thumbed slowly through the 8x11s, transcripts, booking confirmations. Beside him Natasha fondled with the gear stick, switching lanes.
“Are you sure?”
The question was rhetoric. She was a formidable blood hound.
“He’s gotten better at wiping his tracks. A lucky draw on my part. Or maybe a deliberate slip on his.”
“Potts and Rhodes are still off the radar?”
“Can’t get a read on them. The AI is down too. Servers are a bust.”
They turned right, a gravel road bound for nowhere.
Steve closed the files on Helen Cho’s profile.
He rode shotgun with the many-faced woman, searching for a guy who regularly gave death the bum steer.
And they merely traipsed around the iceberg’s tip.
Seoul was a mash-up of historic temples and palaces and cutting-edge technology of the 21st century. Steve looked out at the winding curves of Han River, to where their target hovered on the opposing bank.
Natasha, plush bathrobe and hairdryer, was taking a stab at idle talk.
He felt the mattress plunge as she sat down next to him.
“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”
It wasn’t evident what she was playing at. Not the fourteen-hour flight, he reckoned.
“Star-spangled man with a plan turned renegade freelancer,” she prompted. “Quite the professional retraining.”
He huffed. “Says the wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
She wasn’t swayed. “You thought this through? What happens when we find him?”
Vibranium against gold-titanium alloy, Steve thought. It seemed the only mode of communication left between him and Tony Stark these days. From the look she gave him, Natasha thought along the same lines. He wondered how much she knew about the fallout after Leipzig. She’d mentioned Russia. He was curious if her jaunts had taken her to Kosvinsky Mountain Range, where the five remaining winter soldiers lay shot in suspended animation.
“I’ll think about it when we get there,” he said gruffly.
“Because that worked out so well last time,” she reminded him.
He raised an eyebrow. “And your plan is?”
“Avoid having to ID both of your corpses.”
“Natasha Romanoff, the mediator.” He let it play on his tongue. “Sounds off.”
“Sounds about like the best deal you can get.”
He laughed, but the humor was lost on him.
Helen Cho was not hard to track down for a woman who was involved in questionable affairs. After the Ultron catastrophe she had withdrawn into Korea, pushing the boundaries of science from her Stark-funded U-Gin facility.
Keeping tabs on her was straightforward work. Cho was, as all of her peers on this level of brilliance, a through and through workaholic. Steve shadowed her from home to work to a late social call while Natasha burrowed through her flat.
They hit paydirt on the third day in.
An early clock out, an unusual detour, hasty glances over her shoulder. Helen Cho might be a prodigy, but she wasn’t a very talented undercover agent.
They dogged her footsteps to the edge of town, industrial district, where she disappeared in a stereotype abandoned building. Steve thought it couldn’t get much more cliche than that.
They hung around on the periphery. Cho emerged half an hour later, after which she pursued her customary way home. Steve exchanged a glance with Natasha, but they seemed to be of the same mind on this one.
Helen Cho had ceased to be a figure of interest.
“No activity whatsoever. We nose around soon or the trail goes cold.”
Natasha had conjured up a construction plan of the facility. Never completed it was a concrete could-have-been on the outskirts of a booming metropolis. A siren-song for the local low-life, Steve was sure.
“We can breach here, here, or here.” He circled the viable access routes.
“I was thinking more of a shushed recon,” Natasha said. “I’ll be in and out before you’ve got the morning coffee brewing.”
“I’m not a rhinoceros, Nat.” He crossed his arms defensively. “I can do stealth just fine.”
“I’d rather not attract too much attention, that’s all.” She gestured vaguely at his holdall. “You’ll have to leave the regalia behind.”
Steve wasn’t in a particular mood for a patriotic get-up anyway.
As far as the world was concerned Captain America had hung up his boots. It was reminiscing, more than anything.
“Let’s go,” he said.
It was time to pull up a chair to the table of Tony Stark’s high stakes game.
All-in or Fold, where the thrill built as fast as the cards were dealt.