Chapter Two
The next few days did not allow me much time to examine my internal jealousies. Events hummed along at their usual hectic pace, even before the life-changing phone call that arrived later in the week. Tony always seemed to leave the country at the worst possible time. Throughout the day clients, investors, politicians, lobbyists, the Pentagon, and even blonde magazine reporters, all contacted me with questions and concerns that only Tony could handle. I did my best to keep them at bay, knowing that the time zone difference would make communication with Mr. Stark difficult. He had boarded his private jet to Afghanistan hours before Miss Everhart's morning cab pulled away.
Tony liked to be on location for the unveiling of each advancement in Stark weapons technology. Ever since Saturday Night Live aired those post-9/11 skits with Bin Laden and his henchmen watching old VHS movies of Harry Potter in some deep underground cave, bunker busting had become the holy grail of weapons manufacturing. Stark Industries' bombs could dig deeper into the earth's crust than anything else on the planet, and the US brass in Afghanistan regularly invited him over to motivate the troops with an on-site fireworks show.
I had never accompanied him to the war-torn country; Tony would not allow me to travel to hot regions. Never had. We joked that the three of us - Tony, Obadiah and myself - could never travel on the same plane together. Like the President of the United States, his V.P., and the Speaker of the House, what would become of Stark Industries if all three of us perished? Although my title of personal assistant may not sound particularly important, we all knew that Tony could scarcely find the keys to any one of his cars without my help.
Tony remained in contact via intermittent email for the first 24 hours after he landed , but he warned me that once his convoy entered the mountain pass he would be incommunicado for a significant chunk of time.
Potts: Tony, I need an answer for Senator Stern ASAP. He has been hassling me all week about the Jericho project.
Stark: Can you explain intellectual property rights to him? Again.
Potts: Tony, he's threatening to subpoena you for information.
Stark: He'll never understand my Jericho tech anyway. I can't dumb it down enough.
Potts: Is that the best you have for me?
Stark: Yup. And enjoy it babe, once we get into the mountains I'm out of touch.
Upon reading this final message I had no idea how true his words would prove to be.
Happy Hogan, Stark Industries' driver, sat on the terrace across from me, drinking fresh coffee and discussing the week's plans. We dragged our meeting on a little longer than necessary in an effort to savor a few more minutes of the bright Southern California sunshine as it sparkled off the vast Pacific Ocean below.
I was disappointed to miss a call from Tony overnight. I noted that he hadn't left a message which, for a man who enjoys the sound of his own voice as much as Tony, was out of character. He also had not replied to the text I followed up with in the morning:
Potts: Calling me in the middle of the night, Stark. Did you get tripped up on the time zone math?
When my cell phone interrupted our meeting, I was surprised to see James Rhodes' face on the screen. He had flown with Tony to the Jericho demonstration in Afghanistan, it was not routine for him to call from over there.
"Pepper? It's Rhodie." His familiar voice was muted by the miles.
I sensed trouble in the way he said my name. I felt my limbs turn to lead before I could even answer.
"Pepper, there's been an ambush. Our Humvees were attacked on the way back to the military base. Pepper ..." he paused.
Happy glanced over at me intently.
"What happened?" I caught Happy's eye. "What happened?"
"It's Tony. He ... he has disappeared. We are nearly certain he has been captured by Taliban sympathizers."
I must have gasped. Then I couldn't see, the sunshine seemed too bright, blinding. Tony ...disappeared ... captured ... we are nearly certain. The words replayed in my head as I struggled to make sense of their meaning.
I took several deep breaths.
"Pepper, are you still there?"
Information. I needed information. "What do we know for certain? What do you know, James?"
I willed my mind and body to remain calm as Rhodes spoke. Now more than ever, I needed to think clearly. Tony needed me to think clearly.
James Rhodes explained how the ambush took place. Tony had ridden in a different vehicle with some other soldiers, and their platoon took the brunt of the attack.
When Rhodes and his troops arrived on the bloody scene they found bodies and burned vehicles. Some lay wounded, others killed by either explosions or gunfire. But no trace of Tony Stark. For that reason, the military suspected that he was now a prisoner of war. And a highly valuable prisoner indeed.
Happy's gaze followed my shaking hand as it placed the phone back on the table. Before the shock and terror could overwhelm me, I explained what had happened. His knuckles grew white on the coffee mug as he listened, and his jaw line hardened. His face went from anger to determination to helplessness.
And then to concern, for me I suppose. By this time my lower lip was trembling uncontrollably along with my hands. I felt all the muscles in my body start to quake.
"I ... need to get busy. Need to get busy, make some calls." I stood up shakily.
"Excuse me," I managed to whisper and slipped inside as Happy called after me. It was imperative that Pepper Potts remain calm and strong in the face of this challenge, at least publicly.
With stars and blackness swimming in front of my eyes, I somehow found my office, locked the door behind me, and collapsed into the chair, my head in my hands.
No telling how long I remained that way. I was aware of moisture seeping between my fingers, evidence of tears. In private, I let some of the emotion out. Tony in the hands of the Taliban ... dear God. What was happening to him this instant? Was he ... Was he even alive?