Worth the Trouble
Chapter One
It was a dark and stormy night. Rain pelted the window next to Oliver as he stood in the conference wing of Queen Consolidated. Low rumbles of thunder and an occasional flicker of lightning highlighted the rolling clouds across the evening sky. He sighed and reached in his pocket, pulling out his cell phone and selecting Diggle's name in his contact list. "Hey, do you mind patrolling The Glades without me tonight?"
"Sure, anything I can do?" Digg asked, looking over at Felicity.
"Not unless you can give me a crash course on solar panel manufacturing," Oliver said, turning away from two investors as they walked back toward the conference room. "I'll be there as soon as I can." He walked back into room and took his seat at the head of the table. Settling in for hour-long presentation, he opened up the slim, sleek portfolio full of information on this latest technology advance.
"Learn anything new?" Felicity asked Oliver as he descended the metal stairs into the lair, wearing a large grin on her face. She tossed an empty water bottle into a recycling bin by one of the larger work tables and wiped at the last remaining beads of sweat from her forehead.
"Too much, but not enough if that makes any sense," Oliver raised an eyebrow at Felicity's workout attire as he plopped down in Felicity's chair, his mind exhausted from the downpour of new information flooding his brain that easily matched the summer storm outside.
"Well," she reached to the back of the chair and spun him around, ". . . maybe this will help."
"Felicity -"
"You're welcome," she flashed a quick smile his way.
His eyes flitted from one screen to the next in her command center, as she liked to call it. Each one showcased different aspects of what a CEO looking to have the upper hand on solar panel technology might want to know. One screen had charts and graphs on how this rapid technological advance was shaping the future.
"Clean technology is the future, that's for sure," Oliver said as he studied the screens, "and I think Queen Consolidated needs to act on it."
Felicity's eyes lit up. "I'm so glad you said that," she practically sang out, clicking her mouse on the last screen to Oliver's right. A new window opened and she clicked the mouse a few times, her dark blue metallic nails shining from the light of the monitor. "Sorry - I accidentally closed this window earlier tonight."
"Yeah," Diggle walked up from the back of the lair where he had just come from taking a shower and changing back into his street clothes. "Felicity got excited when I suggested working on her self-defense moves tonight. Even the creeps and criminals stay home when it rains this much, so we were able to get some training in. Bad guys better watch out for her elbow strike. It's gettin' good," he winked at Felicity.
"I like hearing that," Oliver nodded. "You need it with all the field work you keep talking Digg and me into letting you do."
Felicity drew their attention back to the screen and off the subject of her doing field work. "Technology is vital to economic growth."
"Says the IT girl," Diggle said, his shoulders shaking with laughter.
Oliver cracked a smile and looked up at Felicity. "Yes, that point was driven home in the presentation. Over and over."
"No doubt. And I bet it was mentioned a time or two that it's a crucial job -"
"Generator?" Oliver finished. "Yep. Been there, done that, and have the slim and sleek portfolio in my car to prove it." He waved his hand toward the screen with the new window she opened. "So what does the Fairmont Empress Hotel in Victoria, British Columbia have to do with Queen Consolidated's potential development into clean technology?"
"That is where you and I will be staying." She blushed and moved her hands all about in a hundred directions. "I mean, you know, in separate rooms, of course. No hanky panky on company time. Not that there's any anyway." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
"So we're booking," Oliver felt his lips curve a millimeter or two at Felicity's latest slip, "separate rooms at the hotel for . . ." he tilted his head expectantly.
"A conference. British Columbia is very progressive in this sector of the economy." She pulled up another window full of charts and graphs.
"Wow," Oliver said, reading over the information.
Diggle, peering over his shoulder, let out a low whistle. "I guess almost a hundred thousand jobs and eighteen billion a year in revenues would qualify them as being pretty damn progressive."
"You got that right," Felicity agreed, "and this Industry Growth Forum is the perfect event to network and maximize Queen Consolidated's exposure for branching out into this rising sector.
"Not to mention the corporate investors and partners would like that I'm showing interest by attending," Oliver said, rocking back in the chair and steepling his hands under his chin.
"There are those that won't be happy, of course," Felicity said, chewing on a pastel colored nail.
"Isabel?" Diggle asked.
Oliver glared in his direction, and Felicity laughed. "No, although she won't be happy that she didn't come up with the idea first," she answered. "All the companies that are billions deep in other forms of power that haven't made the leap Oliver is thinking of making. They're the ones who won't be happy. They stand to lose those billions. And quickly."
"Fun times, Oliver," Diggle said, clapping his hand over Oliver's shoulder. "So when am I driving you two to Starling International?"
"Next Friday," Felicity said and bumped Oliver's chair out of the way with her hip. Clicking a few buttons, she accessed Oliver's expense account. "I'll use my extensive secretarial arts skill set to make all the arrangements."
Felicity hung up the phone as Oliver walked into the office suite. "Hi, that's the third company that's called to set up a meeting with you. You're causing quite the stir with this interest in solar pan-" Felicity noticed his eyes were tight and his jaw set as he got closer. "Wha-?"
Harsh footsteps clicked around the corner behind him, the kind that came from high heeled stiletto heels stabbing the tile flooring. His voice low and guarded, "Isabel wants to go."
"Of course I want to go," Isabel said, her face the usual mask of iron. "Venturing into a pioneer industry such as solar panel technologies could be risky. I need to be able to make an informed decision."
Oliver cut his eyes at Isabel.
"As your equal partner, of course," she added and turned to Felicity. "Make a third booking for the conference . . ." she looked back at Oliver, ". . . and hotel for me."
"I'll . . . get right on it," Felicity said, her voice small. The color drained from her face and she excused herself to the run an errand she just remembered she had. She walked down the hall and straight into the women's restroom.
The clouds may have cleared out of Starling City over the weekend, but it was still quite stormy inside the QC building.
"You know," Isabel started, "things would be infinitely easier for you if you would just sell your shares to me. I am a proven business woman, more than capable running QC on my own. Is it really worth the trouble to keep treading water with me?" She turned on her heels and left.
"You don't know how right you are," Oliver said to the air as he walked into his office.
He sighed deeply. Another trip with Isabel and Felicity. The scene of Felicity seeing Isabel walking out of his hotel room in Russia played over and over in his mind. Damn the Stoli vodka, he thought, and he vowed not to make that mistake again.
Diggle drove the trio to the airport in the standard black Lincoln town car . He noticed in the rearview mirror that Felicity's jaw was set like stone the entire drive to the airport, and he worried about his friend going on this trip. He told Oliver as much the other night when he found out Isabel was going with them.
He pulled up to a red light and waited. As he started moving once the light turned green, sudden movement to the side street caught his attention. A white work van barreled its way toward them, tires screeching on the black asphalt. Isabel turned and screamed loud enough to shatter glass. The van loomed nearer. Felicity braced for the impact as Oliver wrapped his arms around her shoulders.
He gunned the accelerator and swerved jumping the curb. He plowed down the sidewalk knocking over trash cans and newspaper bins. Their metal frames clanked noisily as they rolled into the street. The few pedestrians out early that morning jumped to safety inside storefront vestibules. Diggle traversed the narrow sidewalk dodging telephone poles until the next street a block down. He was able to maneuver back onto the main road and merge back into the morning traffic.
"Wha . . . what was that?" Isabel asked.
"Just a van that got away from the driver, I guess," Diggle responded, catching Oliver's eyes in the mirror.
"Who needs Disney World when I can ride with you?" Felicity said, breathing a deep side of relief. "Be sure to add mad driving skills to your résumé, Digg."
"Right after I drop you off," Diggle chuckled.
They arrived without further incidents, and Diggle popped the trunk and opened up the car doors in the drop-off lane of Starling International. As he guided Felicity's rolling luggage to her, he put a hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes. "Be strong. You can do this," he whispered.
"Things have a way of working out," she replied, giving her friend the slightest hint of a smile.
"I sure hope so," he said and gave her a hug. He looked over at Oliver and shook his hand, a little too firmly. Coupled with his stern expression, his "good luck" to Oliver took on several meanings, none of which escaped Oliver's attention.
The trio walked into the airport. The kiosks were down, so they entered the check-in line for the airline.
"You did book first class for me, right?" Isabel asked in Felicity's direction.
"Of course," Felicity answered, faking a smile and tossing her ponytail. She bent down to check her baggage tag, ". . . among other things."
Silence joined them, and Oliver shuffled his feet. There were only so many e-mails he could pretend to check on his phone. Finally, it was their turn at the stand, and Oliver breathed a small, inaudible sigh of relief.
Felicity reached into her portfolio and handed over the documentation for their flight to Victoria as well as their passports. The check-in agent gathered up the documents and processed everything, clicking away on the keyboard. His monitor beeped, and he paused for a moment, looking pointedly at Isabel. He printed out new tickets and pointed them in the direction of the security checkpoint. As they left, he picked up the phone by his monitor and placed a call to the TSA switchboard.
They snaked through the marked lines at the security checkpoint, mindlessly watching the videos of the latest items placed on the restrictions list for carry-on luggage.
"Dammit," Isabel cursed, "I sure hope they let me through my shampoo bottle. I'm pretty sure it's too big."
"Oh, I doubt that will be your problem," Felicity said, eyeing the TSA booth they were next in line for at the checkpoint.
The TSA motioned for them to approach. Felicity went through first, and Oliver handed over his credentials.
"Ahh, Mr. Queen," the agent said, recognizing his name from the news. "You're not going back to that island are you?"
"Not anytime soon," Oliver wished for the day when people would stop making jokes about the island. Nobody had the slightest clue of the troubles he endured on that nightmarish island, and he hoped they never would.
He passed through, and the TSA agent flipped open Isabel's passport. His smile straightened into a deep frown and he radioed his supervisor. They conferred in whispers behind cupped hands, staring at Isabel every few seconds.
"What is going on?" She demanded.
Oliver knew without knowing.
He looked at Felicity who was intent on finding something buried deep in her purse, and he waited out the inevitable as two more agents approached Isabel and escorted her to a nearby table.
"Ma'am," the supervisor said, looking gravely at Isabel, "the Terrorist Screening Center has placed an alert on your name."
"What the hell does that mean?" She huffed, her cheeks flushing the color of a roaring fire engine. "Do you have any idea who I am?"
The supervisor folded his arms. "It means you're on the no-fly list. And, yes, I do," he paused. "You are a person of interest who's not leaving the country today." And he waved the two guards standing beside him to take Isabel to a holding room.
"Felicity . . . you care to tell me how you pulled that one off?" Oliver asked as they removed their shoes and put their luggage into the dull grey plastic buckets for x-raying.
"Oh, somehow a terrorist with a name very similar to Isabel's was placed on the no-fly list. Isabel Ruchev, I believe. Apparently, she's done some pretty nasty things lately."
The TSA agent at the x-ray machine motioned for him to walk through the metal detector. He touched Felicity's elbow and he leaned in toward her ear. "Your skills are second to none and worthy of so much attention," he said, his voice full of admiration, not to mention relief, at Felicity's hacking skills.
"Just not from the FBI, I hope," Felicity quipped.
They moved through the airport's labyrinth to their designated concourse. Settling in at their flight gate half an hour later and sipping Starbucks coffee, they quietly entertained their own thoughts about an Isabel-less trip.
A phone rang in a dark office. "Yes?" a deep, quiet voice answered.
"Sir, we were unable to make the connection with the Lincoln."
"So I gathered since you waited so long to call. I've already taken measures to correct your mistake. Goodbye."
A/N: With Isabel safely in the hands of the TSA, Oliver and Felicity should have a trouble-free trip, right? Right? We shall see in the next chapter . . .
BTW, if you like the Felicity/Isabel friction, you might like a collection of one-shots I have called "Bringing Down the Beast". Enjoy!
Thoughts? Comments? Predictions?
Do share! :)