Chapter 69
City Center Mall, Washington, D.C.
September 2011
“First rule of going on the run is walk, don’t run,” Natasha chided. Steve really was terrible at this. His soldiering skills were great in the field but not so good at subtlety. It was a miracle he’d evaded capture on his own even for a day.
“If I run in these shoes, they’ll fall off,” he muttered.
Natasha ignored him. The shoes were not great for running, but it was necessary to blend in, and their disguise required the kind of clothes that a young and relatively financially stable couple would prefer. Not too expensive, not too flashy, but still trendy. And if they had to run, then that meant they’d have much larger problems than the shoes.
Up ahead, the Apple store came into view.
Its glass front was simultaneously a blessing and a curse. Natasha appreciated being able to scan the entire store before they entered, and the open space made sure no ambush would be effective, but she didn’t like being so exposed to every shopper who strolled by. It was midafternoon on a Saturday, so the mall was packed.
Steve’s head kept swiveling, intensely scanning the crowd.
“Relax,” Natasha said under her breath, and led the way into the store. She headed for a computer that would give her a view of the employee exit and the main entrance to the store at the same time. “You stick out like a sore thumb.”
Steve made an effort. Now he just looked massively awkward. That was better than predatory-and-about-to-start-a-fight, though, so she didn’t comment.
Natasha woke up the MacBook Pro and opened Safari with a few clicks. It really was a nice laptop. Maybe she’d buy or steal one after they got this mess sorted out.
Steve leaned over her shoulder and watched carefully as Natasha navigated Safari to open the URL Tony had told her would securely link him to the data from a distance.
Seconds later, a chat room came up. A message was waiting for her. This is Tony. Insert the flash drive. Odds are there’s some kind of tracking software on it, and as soon as it connects to a network, red flags will go up. I have to be fast.
“Here goes,” Natasha said, and slid the drive into the port.
A Finder window opened. She opened the drive and dragged its contents off the Finder and into the Safari secure chat room as Tony had instructed.
“Level Six homing program,” she murmured. “We have nine minutes.”
“Can you crack it?” Steve asked.
Natasha tilted her head and kept her thoughts from turning to Zima, as they always wanted to. “The person who created this was slightly smarter than me. It’s protected by some kind of AI, keeps rewriting itself.”
Can you crack it? she asked Tony.
The response was quick. This is Darcy. He says not in the time window; it’ll erase itself if he slips up. Too risky. But we might get a location on where the drive came from.
SHIELD developed a program to track hostile malware, Natasha typed.
Tony already stole it off their servers, Darcy responded. He reluctantly admits that it’s a well-written program.
Steve snorted.
The chat room opened a screen-sharing field. Natasha watched Tony work; his keystrokes showed up along the bottom, scrolling along almost faster than she could process. She shook her head. He really was a genius. He was altering the malware-tracing program on the fly to make it run faster, help it along. She committed his tactics and alterations to memory for later use.
Natasha sensed someone’s attention on her and subtly scanned the room. Just an Apple employee. Nerdy, harmless twentysomething headed their way. She pretended not to notice him.
“Can I help you with anything?”
Steve flinched slightly.
“Oh, no thanks,” Natasha said with a smile. “My fiance was just helping me with some honeymoon destinations.” She thanked the skies that there were no good pictures of her on the Internet, even after New York. Tony had worked hard to help keep her cover.
Steve was a whole other ball game. Even with a cap and glasses, he was pretty recognizable, and even Tony couldn’t do much with the bevies of information available on Captain America.
“Right! We’re… getting married,” Steve said.
The employee squinted at him. “Congratulations! Where are you thinking of going?”
Steve glanced at the screen. “New Jersey.”
“We’re on a budget,” Natasha explained, and slipped an arm around Steve with an affectionate smile.
“I feel you,” the guy said. He glanced at Steve again, and his eyes widened.
Natasha felt Steve tense beneath her arm.
“I have those exact same glasses,” the employee said, looking extremely excited.
She smirked and turned back to the computer. “You guys are practically twins.”
“I wish,” the Apple guy said, and gestured awkwardly to Steve’s toned six-foot-four frame. “Specimen.”
Steve looked massively uncomfortable. Natasha stifled a laugh.
“Uh… If you guys need anything, I’m Aaron,” he said, and tapped his name tag. Tried to tap his name tag. He missed, poked himself in his pectoral muscle, and blushed. “H-have a good day.”
“You too,” Natasha said.
Steve watched the guy walk away.
“Calm down,” Natasha chided.
“He was weirdly friendly.”
“That’s his job. Stop looking like a guard dog. Honeymoon planning makes people happy.”
Steve leaned against the table. “You said nine minutes.”
“Almost done.” Natasha slipped into the program from her end and started helping Tony out. She’d caught on to the pattern of what he was doing with the homing program. “We’ll be fine.”
The homing program settled. A message popped up from Tony. Got it.
“Wheaton, New Jersey,” Natasha said, and registered the look on Steve’s face. “You know it?”
“I used to,” he said cryptically. “Let’s go.”
Natasha pulled the flash drive out and tucked it back in her pocket. She closed Safari, wiped her browsing history, wiped the laptop’s hard drive, and shut it down. “Time to go.”
They stepped out into the crowded aisle.
Steve immediately started tracking their company. “Standard tac team,” he murmured. “Two behind, two across, two straight ahead. If they make us, I’ll engage, you hit the south stairwell to the metro.”
Natasha took in the situation at a glance. Rumlow’s guys. She recognized their bios. They’d see her and Steve in seconds. “Shut up, put your arm around me, and laugh at something I said.”
“What?”
“Do it!” she hissed.
They neared the SHIELD agents. A head turned toward them in slow motion.
Steve slung his arm around Natasha, leaned in, and did a passable imitation of a proper laugh.
They cruised by. The agents didn’t give them a second glance.
“See?” Natasha said with a half smile.
Steve glanced behind them, surprise obvious on his face. “I can’t believe that worked.”
“You’re a brilliant team leader,” she said. “A great tactician and a great soldier. But this is espionage. Different craft entirely.”
“So I’m learning,” he muttered. Natasha got the distinct impression that he was simultaneously impressed by her and frustrated at his own inability to blend.
“You’re doing fine. Just remember, flying under the radar is the best way to stay hidden. Being on the run isn’t so complicated.”
Steve made an effort to tone down his constant environmental scanning.
They made their way down three levels to the street, having chosen to avoid the parking garage in the interest of not getting trapped. Zima was outside, hopefully with a car by now. They’d deemed him too conspicuous to go into the mall; it was warm, and with a metal arm, he couldn’t exactly walk around indoors in long sleeves and gloves.
Natasha and Steve noticed Rumlow at the same time.
Shit.
He was coming up the escalator right next to theirs going down.
Steve tensed so much he became like a piece of wood.
Rumlow’s head scanned.
Natasha turned to Steve. “Kiss me,” she hissed.
“Huh?”
“Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable,” she insisted.
Steve was frozen. 1940s manners. Or lingering loyalty to Peggy Carter. Natasha didn’t have time to care. She grabbed his sweater and hauled him down for a long kiss.
Rumlow slid by three fight away.
Natasha released Steve but tucked herself into his chest and giggled. Behind the facade, her mind worked furiously, analyzing the movement patterns of the crowd and searching for the quickest way to the double doors that were just coming into view.
“Come on,” she said. “Zima’s waiting.”