Author's Notes:
She's armed with knowledge. He's dangerously clever. Together, they will steal a perilous prototype - and your hearts!
Thanks to doteleven for her excellent beta reading skills and for AGL03 for being available as I would bounce off the wall ideas past her.
Large portions of the dialogue are taken directly or modified slightly from William Wyler's 1966 romantic comedy classic, How to Steal a Million.
London, 1964
Re-adjusting her sunglasses against the bright orange glare of the morning sun, Jemma Simmons motored down the loop in her little, red 1961 Autobianchi Bianchina Special Cabriolet, which she had taken to calling Lola for short. It was her one impractical concession in a life otherwise dedicated to pragmatism and practicality.
Well, she did allow the occasional designer dress or two. But that was truly more about professionalism within her own laboratory.
At school, she had easily succeeded in the primary and secondary levels, but collegiate misogyny reigned supreme. It was a terribly unfortunate truth that Women's programs often didn't receive the funding or technology for projects that she would have found remotely challenging.
Her father was Jonathan Simmons, a fairly prestigious executive of long standing at Roxxon Energy Corporation, an obscenely large and powerful international petrochemical conglomerate who often funded many of the graduate programs. He put a fair bit of pressure on several Universities and finally, after much badgering on his part and hers, they had accepted her into a prestigious PhD program at MIT.
Even getting into the program with a solid dose of nepotism, she needed to outperform everyone there. She had to look flawless, act polite, and still run rings around her male peers. And she succeeded. Perhaps not in changing minds, but in meeting her own standards and proving her own worth.
The business world was not nearly so kind. Milton was a classmate at the University and recommended her for a position when they both graduated. But for all her accomplishments, when she was hired into the small firm, Iliad Technologies,, she still was treated as a junior scientist due to her gender.
The electric hum of the radio cut through her thoughts, "...equal the record in the coming three months. And now, in the world of science and technology… A scientific conference will convene at the Olympia in London this afternoon to present a myriad of technological updates soon to appear on that market. Hosted by Roxxon, the event features a smaller telephone, enhanced car and plane motors from Stark Technologies London branch, and new innovations in batteries from Iliad Technologies."
Jemma's eyebrows winged up. She certainly hadn't been informed she was presenting her shared project today. Stepping on the gas, she wove her way into the parking garage.
The low heels of her shoes clacked along the pristine linoleum as she entered the restroom to freshen up her makeup and hair, punctuating the complaints emanating from down the line of sinks.
It was a truly ridiculous inconvenience, one that none of her male peers would ever need to worry about. But her approach had been successful enough in college, and even a moment's care lost now might set her back professionally. She didn't dare leave even a hair out of place before the day had begun.
"I can't believe he actually asked that," Victoria tutted, as she re-applied a thick coat of vermillion to her lips.
"And so soon," Isabelle confided, as she leaned against the bathroom wall. "I'm not even sure that it is possible to reserve a truck so soon. Those rental places usually want at least 24 hours notice."
Victoria tossed away her tissue after blotting. "Honestly. Dr. Simmons, however do you manage to put up with him?"
Jemma frowned into the mirror as she tamed the last of her stray locks into place. "Who?"
Victoria grinned a bit viciously. "Milton."
Jemma rolled her eyes at the mention of her nearly incapable lab partner. "He has his uses." Milton was the only Scientist on staff willing to partner with a female scientist who did not expect her to fetch him tea. Honestly, if Jemma could go to the break room and grab her own, so could any other scientist in the building.
Isabelle and Victoria regarded her with secretive smiles that made Jemma instantly suspicious. "Do I dare ask what he has done this time?"
Isabelle shrugged. "He's taking the prototype you've both been working on out to display for that big scientific conference."
Jemma's jaw dropped, her anger flaring in an instant before she was able to collect herself and snap her bag shut."Excuse me," she murmured, grabbing her things and striding down the halls to her lab as fast as her heels would allow.
She almost knocked into poor Mr. Gonzales, their CFO as she darted down the hallway.
"Careful, Miss Simmons!" he called after her.
"Sorry, sir!"
"Honestly," she grumbled softly, after turning the last corner to her corridor. How many times must she remind them it was 'Doctor Simmons'?
Sure enough, when she pressed her way through the lab's door, the prototype equipment was gone.
Jemma grabbed for the phone on the wall, dragging her fingers through the rotary dial as fast as she could. Thankfully, the operator connected her quickly. "This is Doctor Jemma Simmons. Please hold all my calls for the day, I will be out in order to attend the conference in the Olympia."
Jemma dug through her purse for the entry fare, embarrassed to realize that Milton and his stupid fat cabbage head hadn't thought to also register her as a presenter.
With her ticket now in hand, Jemma slung her purse over her shoulder and began to flip through the program book. It only took two pages to answer the question that had been plaguing her since she'd heard the radio ad.
On future battery capabilities and potential for future technologies - Dr. Milton Taylor, Iliad Technologies
Jemma scowled. Program books like these took weeks to print. Just how long had Milton been planning to walk away with her work and steal the credit?
She silently thanked her own forethought in keeping her notes on the electrolyte formulae coded within her lab books. Her father had been a manager in a more cutthroat line of business for as long as she could remember. While her mother still lived, she could recall an occasional dinner table tale or two that had fostered her own caution upon her entry into the working world. It just never really occurred to her that she might ever actually have to deal with the ramifications.
Her finger dragged across the schedule. Milton was due to present in less than an hour, which was sure to be a disaster in its own right. The man could hem and haw for a while, but she doubted he could fill the full hour and a half with a presentation. A sly smile crossed her face as she headed for the lecture hall, and she knew exactly what questions would slip him up. Now she just needed to find someone to ask those questions in her place.
"Ugh." Lance Hunter groaned as he tugged against the stifling tightness of the tie at his neck. Bad enough he was roped into this monkey suit and standing in a scientific conference that was far out of his element, but now the tape holding the wire to his chest was alternatively chafing and pulling the short hairs. He fussed with the hat he was required to wear inside the wide halls of the Olympia Exhibition Hall. It was a travesty to have to cover his hair, but the receiver and gear was all tucked up into the dome of the hat.
"It isn't that bad, Hunter," came a woman's voice into his ear piece.
"Says the one not wearing it," he muttered. He moved over to the nearest set of pay phones, miming the rotary dial. He didn't want to appear as though he was talking to himself.
She didn't let it drop. "I wish you wouldn't wear that ridiculous hat though. Especially not indoors. It basically defeats the purpose of trying to blend in."
Hunter let his irritation elevate his volume a bit. "Well, where else would you suggest I put the ruddy wire?"
The voice on the other end had no compassion for his discomfort. "Don't forget I've had to wear wires too. And you don't have to get nearly as creative with where to hide it."
Hunter grinned at the thought, having helped her place those wires from time to time. "I'd be more than willing to trade places with you now if you prefer. I could help you find decent hiding spots if you like."
"Stay focused, and I'll see if I can get Fitz to work on some improvements to the wire when he gets back. HQ is interested in the battery technology. It was apparently developed in a smaller, independent lab before Roxxon got its sticky fingers into the mix. Fitz would love to get his hands on the design specs to re-work it for some of the bigger jobs his group has been working with."
"And why isn't he here?"
"The design details have been under wraps for some time and he was surprised it was on the schedule. By the time we found out, he was already scheduled to be in Paris on another assignment."
"And what's with the camera...?"
"To match your press credentials. Also to snap some photos if you can manage it."
"Lovely," Hunter muttered, fiddling with the lens cap. "You know this means you owe me, right, Bob?"
Her sigh was audible over the line. "We'll settle up later, when I'm back in town. The mission comes first."
Hunter's humor faded with her voice over the line. The mission always did come first with her.
Jemma grinned as a reporter that was clearly out of his depth walked towards the exhibit hall, camera in hand. Surely Milton wouldn't be able to resist the prospect of free publicity. She walked right into the reporter's path so he'd have no choice but to respond. "Excuse me. Are you heading into the convention hall?"
He looked impatiently towards the entrance to get the better seating his press credentials demanded.
"This won't be but a moment." Jemma smiled shyly, offering him a slip of paper. "I had a question for the speaker, but they so infrequently call on women in the crowd. Would you mind asking it for me?"
"I suppose, love." His smile was placating. "What sort of question is it?"
"Well, it is perhaps a bit...challenging. I wrote it down for convenience."
The man blinked as he read over the note. "How do I even pronounce most of this? I'm pretty sure that one word isn't even Queen's English."
"Just do your best." Jemma smiled. "If all goes will, it will give you a rather excellent scoop for the morning paper." Jemma waved as she moved toward the back of the line for a seat of her own. "And thank you!"
Not thirty minutes later, Hunter goggled at the slip of paper the girl had handed him. Anodes and cathodes and electrolytes were all gibberish to him, but the man on the stage, the so called expert, had been flummoxed as well.
"Any luck putting eyes on that girl? She's a much more viable lead than that presenter was."
His eyes darted about the room as the crowd began to disperse. His eyes caught on a blur of white darting out of the room. He strode quickly towards the exit, stopping just shy of running outright. By the time he reached the door, there was no white visible in the crowds in either direction. "She's quick."
"And clever." He could practically hear Bobbi grinning. "She's definitely not someone to be underestimated."
Hunter smiled. "I have certainly learned better than to underestimate you."
"As well you should. Now, let's figure out how we can track this girl down."
Jemma pulled into her driveway, tugging off the kerchief that kept her hair in place. Considering how much credibility she had lost in the lab today as a result of Milton's troubling actions, she was growing more than a bit concerned about all of her other notes. Perhaps she needed to devise a new code. It would take some time to formulate and transcribe, but the concession to security must be worth the investment.
She already had a possible key to the cipher in mind by the time she had returned home and handed her jacket off to Thomas, their long time butler.
"Good Afternoon, Miss."
"Is my father in?"
"Yes. However, he is currently entertaining some Gentlemen from work." His dark, bushy eyebrows furrowed dismissively. "Americans, I should think."
As if on queue, a spur of laughter erupted from the library, bringing with it her father and three taller men in suits. "It almost seems a shame we have such a tight schedule. I've not really had the chance to see the sights, and my daughter always loves when I bring home a souvenir. But we must take the design details back to our R&D group in the States."
"Ah. A point we'll need to discuss at length later. I'll see if my secretary can arrange a tour or two before your departure time tomorrow." Her father grinned with rather exaggerated cheer that told her the other man's request seemed unlikely if it was in her father's power to stop it. "Gentlemen...Allow me to present my daughter, Jemma."
"Delighted, Miss," the southern gentleman drawled, pushing his ten gallon hat back over his bald spot.
"So this is the young lady we keep hearing so much about," the other man smiled.
"Pleased to meet you." Jemma smiled tightly. She was trying to place why she felt so...disconcerted. Perhaps it was because the man seemed far less than genuine. The third man remained silent.
"I hear it was your little firm that was working on that new battery we just acquired for quite a hefty sum." The man smiled far too widely. "Tell me, do you know this brilliant Milton fellow that sold it to us?"
Jemma blinked and looked over at her father. "Our paths have crossed," she said through gritted teeth. Mr Simmons adjusted himself uncomfortably but kept his smile in place, motioning to the three men with a nod.
"Jemma, these are Mr. Mallick and Mr. Garret, two of Roxxon's executives out of the Texas office. Mr. Ward is their assistant. They'll be staying on for dinner. Then we'll be heading off to the exhibition at the Olympia. Would you like to join us?"
Jemma grimaced, thinking of a whole host of unpleasant things she would rather do. "I'm afraid I'm not feeling terribly well. Would you mind if I went upstairs to lie down for a bit?"
Her father frowned, but nodded her along up the stairs.
Jemma trudged into her room, dropping onto the bed and looking up at the familiar patches of popcorn stucco on the ceiling. "What a wretched day."
Despite being a pain, Milton had always been willing to work with her. His tendency to agree blindly with whatever she said was irritating, but now that he had outright stolen her work and presented it as his own, she had to question every interaction. Perhaps he had only ever been pleasant to her face. One thing was certain: he had used her and her knowledge for his own personal gain.
Milton was barely clever enough to develop new concepts. She often had to do quite a bit of homework into his so called expertise with the engineering and assembly in order to make any of it work. What she wouldn't have given for a competent Engineer on those late nights.
So, how had he been clever -and ruthless- enough to pull the wool over her eyes for so long, and sell the prototype to the highest bidder?
Jemma frowned, starting to ponder the precise coding system to use. She might have to go down to the library to see if she'd be able to find something even more obscure than the shift cipher she'd used before. Perhaps she had something on her shelves here in her bedroom that might inspire an idea.
She stood, striding over to the over-stuffed bookshelf. As she approached, she grew immediately suspicious. A few of the books were out of place. She certainly wouldn't have moved anything, preferring her books to be in a precise order.
Had someone been in her room? Jemma's stomach fell away at the mere thought. Grabbing those out of place books first, she rifled through to locate the most current copy of her brainstorming notes, detailing her step by step research through the various chemical combinations and reactions to find the best fit.
It was gone.
Mr. Simmons sat in his den, a fortifying half glass of scotch in hand. Dealing with his peers, Mr. Garrett in particular, always grated at his nerves. He needed to be delightfully mellow and congenial for the exhibition gala ahead. Mercifully, both had departed by taxi to dress for the more formal activities planned for the evening, giving him at least a few moments' peace.
That glass proved even more necessary as his daughter raced into the room, clearly in a fit of pique. "Father, what have you done?"
He stole another sip before responding. "What on earth do you mean, my dear?"
Jemma scowled, punctuating her displeasure with her dry tone. "Dad."
"I've merely given the world a pleasant opportunity to view your work on that battery before it is used to carry us all to the moon and beyond," he said brightly. "That boy Milton was far too stubborn for his own good. He should have let go of the rights when I told him to and we wouldn't have needed to buy out the whole bloody company," he sniffed.
"You bought out Iliad for access to my work?!"
"Don't be dramatic. I wasn't the only one to make that decision, and it certainly wasn't only for access to that battery project. But, if my company also benefits from your brilliant mind, all the better. This house, the staff, and your education did not exactly come cheaply, my dear."
She blinked, as if momentarily confused. "Papa, it was my work. I won't be given a bit of credit now!"
"I had to get Milton to present that battery without you, darling. You were being too stubborn thinking it wasn't ready yet and keeping all those details under wraps." He set his glass aside. "I've heard time and time again from you that he was holding you back. I wish you'd give up that ridiculous job and come and work for me at Roxxon. Everything would be so much simpler if you did so.
Jemma crossed her arms over her chest. "You know very well I don't agree with the principles of that company."
He rolled his eyes. "Honestly, it's going off to college that's given you this obsession with causes and righteousness."
"Those causes are essential." Jemma frowned. "The damage to the environment alone that companies like Roxxon are doing is incredible. The research is already showing that-"
He scoffed. "The research is quite overrated."
"Look, Papa…"
He cut her off, tired of retreading the fight they had been having for the past several years. Quibbling like this would get them nowhere. "The basic trouble with you, my dear, is that you're honest. I don't say that to hurt your feelings, Jemma. You just need a meaner mindset to get ahead in this world. Your kindness is a credit to your mother, God rest her soul. But if you mean to press ahead within the business, you must learn to be brave and ruthless."
Jemma frowned. She had no desire to dabble in office politics. "I'd much rather just create and explore and test in relative peace."
"If you wish to do nothing more than to tinker, that is just fine," he said patronizingly. "But people will always be there waiting to take advantage."
Jemma nodded involuntarily. It was a harsh reality that she had seen and now experienced herself. Even people she thought she could trust would take advantage if given the opportunity. It was a truly unfair way of the world that seemed to be acceptable in the corporate environment. What she wouldn't give for a nice, quiet academic lab where all she'd need to fight for was funding and space.
Mr. Simmons patted her shoulder. "Besides, cleverness aside, I always thought you rather liked Milton. He's just your type: impeccably honest and extremely dull."
Pressing her lips into a thin line, Jemma raised a brow. "That is only about half right."
Her father snorted. "Well, he was also pressing his suit rather forcefully."
"What suit?" Jemma's other brow joined it's twin in disbelief.
Mr. Simmons patted her hand. "Well, my dear, it appears the poor lad wants to marry you."
Jemma grit her teeth. "And you encouraged this?"
"Of course not. I just wanted his cooperation with the acquisition. He just wanted my blessing to sink or swim."
She had to fight to keep her temper from flaring. Not only was that a topic that Milton had never broached with her, but his recent actions had well and truly burned that bridge away, even if she might have considered it before. "Really? Well," she huffed, "if you wanted his portion of the tech all that much, you should marry him. I certainly will not."
Her father gave a humoring smile at her not so quiet rebellion, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I must go, my dear. We are meeting up with the rest of the executives that are due to arrive at Heathrow presently. If you'd like, you are more than welcome to come with me and explain your marvelous invention to the Roxxon executive team tomorrow night. You'll get full credit. We are scheduled to do a special tour through the convention center; the exhibit is set to remain open late into the evening for all the industry representatives."
"I'm afraid I'll be too busy considering my other options, Dad," Jemma smirked and turned away on her heel.
Mr. Simmons grinned, positioned right in front of the prototype battery on display in the exhibition hall. "From what I understood of my discussions with Mr. Taylor, the finished product will be stackable with the potential to power larger vehicles at less than half the size of current batteries."
"I understand that the finalized electrolyte formulae is still under development," Garrett smirked, delighted when Mr. Simmons' face fell slightly.
Mr. Simmons knew that Garrett was a shark, thriving when he smelled blood in the water. He would pounce on any perceived weaknesses that were not corrected immediately. "There was a slight hiccup in the transition from the prior company ownership with Iliad Technologies, but Mr. Taylor is sitting down with R&D to complete it this evening."
"We have much to thank your daughter for. We are beyond grateful to her for bringing this to your attention." Malick spoke softly, focusing his rapt attention on their new technical asset. "If it does even half of what you say, we'll be able to make quite a lot of headway in our mission with this."
"So," Garrett prodded. "How soon before this little beauty is shuttled back into Roxxon hands? I'd love to let my scientific team get their hands on it to see how we can improve it."
Mr. Simmons grew cagey. "We will have it back in our London offices soon enough, once the exhibition is completed. You'll have to bring your team here to review it in the interim."
Will Daniels trailed at the back of the Roxxon delegation, please to enjoy the anonymity of the crowds. The entire evening was filled with crowds, tedious conversation, and a slow aimless shuffle-all of which he struggled to enjoy. He'd much rather be accomplishing things; it was a far more productive use of his limited vacation time. He was mostly out of his usual element, even though he understood far too well the financial boon that would come from having the right pieces in place.
As the delegation walked, he listened intently to the conversation around him, unable to find an immediate avenue to capture his attention. Therewas at least one useful piece of information he had managed to gather.
He broke away at the earliest opportunity. His knowledge was limited on some of the necessary specifications, but it would be worth the effort to set a plan in motion before getting a decent night's sleep.
"Back to the hotel, please," he said as he got in a taxi.
"Yes, Mr. Daniels."
Will Daniels leaned back into the seat before digging out the tape recorder to be sent to his personal secretary. "Ms. Price, type this up immediately then send it to all parties concerned. Cancel all pending travel arrangements and business meetings. Remaining in London on urgent business regarding technical improvements of the mission. Further instructions will be issued as needed. Hire a private investigator to do a run-down on Jonathan Simmons: all members of his family, his dealings with Roxxon Industries... and particularly the prototype battery, which is now on exhibit at the Olympia. Have all this information at my hotel first thing in the morning. This is urgent, repeat, urgent." He picked up the recorder again, as an afterthought. "And confidential!"
Jemma hunched over her desk, working out her new coding system. Perhaps she might do a cipher shift, but instead filter her data through not just one but two layers of shifting?
She sighed, sinking back into the chair, pressing her fingertips to her temples. As her memory prompted, she tried to force her recall on all details recorded in her original book of notes.
She would need to do...something. Milton would not be able to re-create the totality of their work, although the Roxxon Research and Development staff would certainly be more competent given enough time and resources. She still had to decide if it would be possible to get inside the building and ensure the construction would fail so she could make sure the prototype didn't get buried in the private sector with patents and bureaucracy. It needed to be available to the public, not a morally dubious company like Roxxon. But she'd also need to speak with an attorney about how to ensure she didn't bring the weight of the Roxxon's legal resources down on her own head.
Knowing it was now too late in the evening to get any proper work done, Jemma decided to curl up on her bed with the latest copy of the Hitchcock mystery magazine. She hoped for inspiration to strike with ideas for her new code. Going up against Roxxon or her father wasn't a viable option, but she could certainly ensure she would not be duped again.
Her father might have been well intentioned in acquiring her company or he just might have done so out of misplaced loyalty to his longtime employer. She couldn't even entirely be sure whether he had taken her book of notes, or if someone else had been hired to do the dirty work. But he had betrayed her trust and she would not allow him the opportunity again. She had already spoken to Thomas, their Butler, about re-keying all of her locks.
Jarred from focus by a noise downstairs, her eyes popped open comically over the page.
Downstairs in the library, Leo Fitz held the flashlight with his teeth as he combed through the documents on the desk, looking for any evidence of the prototype specs. The library looked clean. There were hardly any stray papers lying about that would even give a hint that the man in question possessed details about the tech that had his employer so concerned. If the man was actually a scientist, he was far neater than Fitz ever had been. He scratched at his day old scruff. Of course, it was also possible that the cleaning staff was ruthlessly efficient.
He spun around, directing the light to the bookshelves. He could only hope that nothing was hidden in the rows of books around the periphery of the room. That would take far more time than he had before someone would inevitably come home. Behind him was an oil painting that would hopefully be hiding everything they would need. He moved it off the wall with as much care as he could manage in the near darkness.
He dug out a stethoscope from his kit, pressing it right against the door of the safe as he listened for the combination lock to catch. He grinned when the door popped open, flashing the light into the box before snagging the stack of paperwork inside.
Hunter really had no handle on the scientific information, and Bobbi confirmed that this type of work was really outside her fields of study. Chasing down the lead, Bobbi had already gone into the presenter's office undercover, but had no luck finding this Milton Taylor before all hell broke loose. Roxxon was enacting a hostile takeover of the small company, actively confiscating whole boxes of data under guard and forcing everyone in the office to sign iron-clad confidentiality agreements, up to and including their current projects. The threatened penalties would ruin the career of anyone who dared defy them..
Bobbi decided to shift her focus to Roxxon instead, but came up with only one likely executive that might have details on the schematics they were charged with acquiring. Jonathan Simmons. Left with no other options, Fitz was dragged all the way back across the Channel and sent in to try and make sense of the science.
Quite frankly, he was damned glad. The specs he had cracked from the safe were impressive, to say the least. He scratched at the stubble on his chin as his mind leapt at the possibilities. "Clever designs..."
Bobbi chimed in via the receiver in his ear. "Did you find anything, Fitz?"
Fitz held the flashlight to the sheet. "Some battery specs. There are some novel design aspects, but there is some coding along the side. It is a really brilliant way to guard the data. I can't get a full feel to replicate it."
"What details are you missing?"
He had already been filing away some mental notes for possible improvements to the efficiency-and possibly also the casing-but it was a challenge without the full scope of detail. "Hmmm...The size is a bit unclear. The precise formula for the electrolytes being used...and-"
Certain he heard a noise from the hallway, Fitz froze, shutting off his flashlight as quickly as possible. He could hear Bobbi tapping at her mic."Fitz? Are you there?"
His heart raced as he ducked down behind the desk.