Chapter 80
Triskelion, Washington, D.C.
September 2011
The synflesh itched.
Natasha ignored the prickling on her cheekbones, forehead, and jawline. This was the price of impersonation. She was well accustomed to it, but it didn’t get any easier. Just predictable. The blond hair of her wig was a little startling every time it fell in her face.
Natasha sank into her identity as she walked, immersing herself into the persona of Councilwoman Elizabeth Hawley. Mid-fifties, confident, complacent, smug and settled in her position and her authority. Oblivious to the schemes swirling around her, unaware of SHIELD’s growing power.
Hawley’d been the only council member who was both female and close enough to Natasha’s height to make the impersonation work. Luckily, her security hadn’t been very effective. They’d simply taken her in the airport bathroom and swapped her for Natasha while her guards waited outside. She was currently bound and held captive by an old contact of Natasha’s outside D.C. She’d be released in twenty-four hours with no knowledge of who her captors were.
Pierce met the Council members in the lobby. “Welcome to the Triskelion,” he said with an ingratiating smile. “How was your flight?”
“Lovely,” Natasha said, the synthesizer at her throat modulating her voice into an exact replica of Hawley’s. “The ride from the airport less so.”
“Unfortunately, SHIELD cannot control everything,” Pierce said with a smile.
“Including Captain America?” Councilman Rockwell said, a hint of a challenge in his voice.
The rest of the Council paused, waiting on Pierce’s response.
His smile slipped for a fraction of a second before he recovered and simply ignored the query. A soldier stepped forward and handed him a small black case. Pierce removed four lapel pins. “The facility is biometrically controlled,” he explained. “These will give you unrestricted access.”
This could be quite useful, Natasha thought, and delicately clipped the pin to the breast of her suit jacket.
They rode the elevators in a mostly silent group. Hawley was not known for being a talker, so Natasha was able to stay quiet and listen to the occasional inquiries and answers that cropped up between the others.
The doors opened. She followed the group out into the top level of the Triskelion, where Pierce and Fury had their offices.
Steve’s voice sounded in her ears. “And if Fury is there, can you fool him?”
“I have to,” she’d replied, and offered no other answer.
“Where is Director Fury?” Councilman Singh said sharply. “I was under the impression that he was involved in Project Insight as well.”
Natasha registered Fury’s presence right before he answered. “I’m right here, Councilman,” he drawled.
She turned with the rest of the Council members, mimicked their surprise.
There was her once-boss, in his customary leather duster and the signature eye patch. Seeing him here next to his old friend, Natasha wondered for the umpteenth time whether he knew what Pierce was up to. It was entirely possible that he was as much in the dark as the Council.
“I’ve chosen to leave the presenting to my colleague,” Fury said, and gestured to Pierce. “Take it away.”
“Thank you, Nick,” Pierce said, and began walking. “This way, please.”
Natasha had never been in his office in this building. It was even nicer than his space in the old HQ, mainly because of the view. A corner office with bay windows and sleek, modern furniture. It suited Pierce.
“As you know, I’ve invited you all here today to celebrate the launch of Project Insight,” Pierce said, moving toward his desk. A bottle of champagne and seven delicate glasses waited on a table to the side. He began to pour and kept talking. “The most ambitious homeland security initiative ever conceived, much less undertaken. We will be able to eliminate threats before they happen. We will have the capability to kill anyone, anywhere. Terror will cower in its holes, afraid to rear its ugly head. Violent crime will drop. Criminals will no longer dare break out of prison. We will finally have world peace.”
He passed flutes of sparkling champagne around to the Council. Natasha swirled hers and resolved not to drink, in case he’d laced it with something. “I know the road hasn’t been smooth,” Pierce said with a smile, “and some of you would gladly have kicked me out of the car along the way. But here, now, we stand united, ready to usher in a new era of prosperity and safety for seven billion people.
When history looks back on this moment, we will be heroes, and the world will be grateful.”
Pierce raised his glass in a toast. The Council followed suit.
Just as the edge of the flute touched Natasha’s lips, a squeal broke over the intercom.
She concealed a small smile. They made it.
Triskelion, Washington, D.C.
September 2011
Sam flicked off the safety on his Sig and rolled his neck, cracking it.
“Could you not?” Barnes said.
Sam looked him in the eyes and rolled his neck the other way, slower.
Barnes rolled his eyes, the only part of his face visible behind the mask, and looked away again.
Sam grinned.
Up ahead, Steve and Maria were oblivious, creeping along in formation. Steve’s shield was up and Maria’s gun sights tracked slowly back and forth across the roof. SHIELD had no guards up here, and Tony promised the EMP he’d remotely programmed was capable of setting the cameras on a loop, but you couldn’t be too careful.
Steve waved.
Sam slipped out of their cover with Barnes at his side. His feet fell easily into the soldier’s stalking gait, controlled and quiet. Weapon up, senses tuned.
Maria raised a fist.
Barnes stopped instantly. Sam dropped into a crouch to get a line of sight past Maria and Steve’s bodies. He didn’t see any hostiles.
After a few tense seconds, Maria signalled, and the four of them started moving again.
The door to the radio outpost came into view ahead. There were no windows, but Sam remembered from Maria’s briefing that the inside was lined with real-time projections of the sky around them. The outpost was mainly to act as a liaison between the air traffic control tower and the Triskelion itself.
“Door’s locked,” Maria said quietly.
Barnes frowned. They’d hoped it would be unlocked.
“Plan B. Bust it down?” Steve said.
Sam glanced around and spotted a satellite dish a few feet away. “Is that their dish?” he asked.
“Yes,” Maria said.
Sam drew a silenced pistol and fired three shots at the dish.
“That should draw them out,” he said with a grin.
Barnes surprised him by chuckling.
Sam caught Steve’s surprised look and shrugged. If the dish quit, that should bring them out pretty quickly.
Sure enough, the door slid open seconds later. A SHIELD technician stepped out and froze when presented with three guns in his face.
“Excuse me,” Steve said, stepping past him.
The technician moved out of the way, hands raised and eyes wide.
Maria followed him. Barnes tugged on his sleeve and gloves to make sure his metal arm was fully hidden and slipped in after. Sam glanced around once more, stepped through the door, and pushed it shut.
The two technicians in the room stared at the group, eyes wide and caught between terror and awe. Sam wondered how they must look. Maria was cold-faced but familiar to them, he was a random unknown face, and Barnes was probably flat-out scary.
“Uh. Hi,” Steve said. “I’m going to need your broadcasting equipment.”
The two technicians looked at each other, then back at Steve.
Sam glanced at his watch. They were running up close to the estimate Natasha’d given for how long it would take before the Council got to Pierce’s office.
“What do you need?” the technician on the left said. Sam squinted at his badge. Salah Masih.
Steve shifted his weight. “I need to make a broadcast to the Triskelion.”
“May I?” Masih said, pointing at the console.
Steve paused. Sam knew why; one wrong move would have this guy warning everyone in the building. He cocked his head and went with his gut.
“Go for it,” Sam said.
Masih stepped forward.
“Salah,” hissed his partner. Carl Henriksen.
“Shut up, Carl, it’s Captain America,” Masih said, reaching for the keys.
Barnes moved quickly. “Talk us through what you’re doing,” he said in a gravelly tone, tapping a pistol threateningly against his leg.
Masih glanced up, bit his lip. “Okay. Uh… Keying up the… systems.” He paused so Barnes could look at the screen. Sam glanced over at the screen and saw a list of departments. Henriksen shifted his weight and Sam snapped his attention back to the tall Nordic-looking guy against his wall.
“Selecting all departments and buildings…” Masih muttered.
“Including the executive offices?” Maria asked.
“Yep.” Masih paused. “Agent Hill?”
Maria nodded tightly.
“Didn’t like death so much?” Masih joked.
Maria smiled faintly. “Not quite.”
Masih nodded slowly, seeming somewhat checked out. “Right… right… uh… Okay. Here we go. Everything’s on the list. Ready, Captain?”
Steve took a breath. “Got a mic?”
“Right there.” Masih pointed to a microphone on a stand.
Steve stepped over and sat down in front of the microphone.
Henriksen lunged forward.
“Freeze!” Sam shouted. He fired a warning shot. Henriksen grabbed a chair and swung it straight for the console in front of Masih.
Barnes launched himself over the console. Body-slammed both Henriksen and the chair away from Masih. They hit the floor and rolled. Maria dropped a knee into Henriksen’s temple. He went limp. Out cold.
Sam holstered his pistol and looked at Masih. The technician was frozen, eyes wide, staring at his partner on the floor.
Barnes climbed to his feet and glared at Masih. “You gonna try anything?” he growled.
Masih shook his head.
“Back off him,” Steve said. “Let’s get this done. Masih, go.”
“Three… two… one… you’re live,” Masih said.
Steve took a breath and leaned into the mike.