Chapter Six: A View to a Kill

August 1947, Constanta, Romania

"You do know I've never been here before, right?"

Howard adjusted his sunglasses, using the movement as a cover to survey the area. Their quarry was due to cross the street from the barber shop—actually a front for a Zodiac cell—in a minute or two. It would then be Howard and Bucky's job to follow him to wherever he and his bosses were holding their meetings and bug the place. The government was dragging its ass about convicting those few Zodiac agents SHIELD had been able to capture, citing lack of evidence. So in a fit of temper, Howard had decided to get himself more evidence. Truman had signed off on electronic surveillance and within twenty-four hours Stark had dragged Bucky halfway across the world.

"Your mother was Romanian, right?"

"Yeah. And her family moved to America when she was ten. She didn't exactly see it as the motherland."

"You never visited?"

Bucky sighed. "When you first met me, did I look like the kind of guy who could afford to travel?"

Howard shrugged. "To be honest, I have no idea how much it costs regular folks to travel. I don't even know how much it costs to fuel my own planes." He shrugged and Bucky stared at him, caught between incredulity and disappointment.

"I hope you pay your accountants real well, Stark."

Howard puffed himself up. "I do. Theo and J.J. live in mansions of their own and Janine would too if she didn't spend it all on horses."

"You know what? She looks after your money; she deserves to spend hers on whatever the hell she pleases."

"What? You're saying I'm too reckless with my money?" Stark asked with a frown.

"I'm just saying that I don't think you appreciate it."

"And you do?"

Bucky removed his sunglasses, leaning his elbows on the cafe table. "Ma's family came to America with nothing. And I mean nothing. The clothes on their backs and one bag for six people."

"Your folks weren't exactly destitute, Barnes. I've seen the house you were living in."

"That was dad. First generation Anglo-American with a decent inheritance. And it's easy to get a job when you have an English accent and your grandfather went to Eton."

Howard scoffed at Eton but schooled his expression back to neutral when Bucky scowled at him.

"If Ma had stayed here, my entire family woulda been rounded up, shot, and tossed in a mass grave 200 miles that way." He hooked his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of Iasi. "So yes, I appreciate where I am now."

"You're not a Jew, Barnes. They wouldn't have shot you."

"It's passed down the maternal line. My father may have been too much of a Protestant to let anyone snip a bit of me off, but in any way that matters, I'm a Jew." Bucky sipped his coffee. "Enough of one to be gassed, in any case."

Howard didn't appear to know what to say to that, so he returned to his own coffee and the newspaper he'd been pretending to read when they'd started this conversation. Then he frowned into the dark liquid in his cup. "So that's why McCarthy hated you."

"Nah. Joe doesn't hate me because I'm a Jew. He hates me because I'm a homo."

Bucky turned his attention to the coffee pot and the reflection on its surface. He could see the street, the shops across from the cafe, the intersection, and the portly little man hurrying out of the barber shop.

"Hey, Stark. We're movin'."

~8~8~8~8~8~8~

Following their Zodiac friend turned into a three hour odyssey through the streets of Constanta. He obviously wasn't in a hurry to meet his bosses. Or he was aware of the possibility of being followed and was trying to bore his tails to death. Luckily Bucky had more patience than Howard.

They spent another hour sitting outside a mouldy, crumbling pre-Soviet factory, waiting for the men inside to finish their poker game and leave. Howard was getting twitchy but Bucky lay motionless on the roof across the street, binoculars in front of his eyes like he was waiting for a shot. He'd waited in worse conditions.

The men filed out shortly after sunset, two of them staggering drunk, another well on his way. The oldest of them was sober and stiff, barking in Russian at the others, who fell into line and shuffled into the two black cars waiting on the street. Once the cars had pulled away and disappeared into the night Bucky tapped Howard's shoulder.

"We're in business."

"Finally," Howard grumbled, shifting from where he was slumped against the concrete. He rolled his neck and groaned. "How do you do this?"

"By not being a whiny rich boy. Let's go."

Bucky led the endlessly grousing Stark down the musty stairwell and out onto the street. A quick check of the factory revealed that it was, in fact, empty. The table was still there, but whatever cards and chips the men had played their game with had left in someone's bag. Only empty bottles remained. The whole space reeked of vodka.

Footsteps echoed off the unfurnished concrete and the metal girders overhead. The snap of pigeons' wings was like artillery fire.

"Well." Howard surveyed the wreck. "At least the bugs won't have any trouble picking things up. The acoustics should be pretty decent." He dropped his satchel down on the poker table and withdrew a collection of electronic equipment. There were two wiretap kits and an army of bugs that were smaller than Bucky's pinkie fingernail.

Bucky grabbed the wiretaps. "Phone's upstairs, I imagine."

Howard nodded. "Find two phones that look like they've been used the most. Tap them and get back down here and we'll get these boys set up." He patted a pair of small cameras.

~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~

All in all, it took less time to bug the factory from top to bottom than it had for the mobsters and Zodiac men to play their poker game. When Bucky and Howard left, the place looked exactly like it had before. The bugs were invisible, hidden in corners and underneath cinderblocks. The cameras were concealed in wall cracks; the wiretaps indistinguishable from all the other cords and wires in the phones. Howard activated the system and then they left.

The hotel room they were staying in was muggy and choking when they got back. The night had done nothing to cool it down. Bucky's shirt clung to his back and he could feel sweat dripping through his hair. There was no hope of a shower, either. The place was an old tenement and the showers in the hall didn't work. Even his shitty apartment in Brooklyn had been better than this.

"Feeling at home, Barnes?"

Bucky scowled, peeling off his shirt and undershirt, running them under the sink and hanging them in the window. "My place wasn't this bad. And if I feel like I'm slumming, you must be going outta your mind." He poured a jug full of cold water over his head. "Missing martinis yet?"

Howard pulled a face, stripping down to his skivvies and snatching the jug from Bucky's hand. "Martinis I can do without. Basic hygiene, not so much." A contented animal noise left him as he doused himself with cold, clean water. "What is with this heat? Isn't this supposed to be grey, rainy Eastern Europe?"

"You're thinking of Wales."

"I thought you said you didn't travel?"

"Monty was always on about grey, rainy South Wales." Bucky pulled down his pants, hanging them next to his shirts, and scrubbed himself down with a wet cloth. It wasn't nearly as good as a shower but it was better than nothing. He didn't bother towelling himself off before dropping onto the creaky mattress. Anything to cool down. It was two in the morning and he was exhausted.

He kept hoping that Howard would find something to do other than talk. He'd been going non-stop since that morning and Bucky found himself longing for an off button. In the hope that if he didn't get any responses he'd lay off, Bucky closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Even if it hadn't have been for Howard talking, Bucky wouldn't have been able to nod off. The air felt heavy over his chest, like he was drowning in warm water. All he could do was lie there and sweat. And listen to Howard.

He was going to lose his mind. He knew it.

Midway through a dissertation on palladium cold fusion, Howard stopped. "Was that why you were so antsy about my spending habits?"

Talk about a non sequitur. Bucky's brows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"You're Jewish..."

There was a long pause and Bucky snorted. "Are you seriously asking me if I'm fiscally responsible because I'm Jewish?"

"It was an observation."

"It was a question," Bucky said. "And I'm cranky about your spending habits because I wasn't a spoiled brat as a child. Dropping a few million dollars on frivolous spending is not my idea of a good time."

"It's called cheap."

"It's called frugal."

Bucky could almost feel Howard rolling his eyes. Maybe this was why Peggy hadn't wanted to go on this mission with him. The silence lasted an impressive thirty seconds before Howard started up again.

"What exactly would be the use of having all th—"

Bucky hucked his soggy sock across the dark room and heard it hit the wall with a splat. There was a pause.

"Really?"

"For the love of God, Howard, just shut up." It was the third time that day that he'd told Howard to put a lid on it. Bucky eased the other sock off in silence, just in case he needed it. It cooled him off, at least.

"I'm starting to want you to make me."

Bucky frowned and glanced over, just able to make out Stark's grin in the darkness. He was lying on the other bed, hair still wet and wearing nothing more than the soaked underwear he'd had on when he'd doused himself. Even in the dark it didn't leave much to the imagination. Hell, Bucky wasn't going to complain. It wasn't as if Stark was hard to look at. Problem was, he knew it.

"Are you propositioning me?"

Howard chuckled. "I'm just saying... You want me to shut up; I want you to shut me up."

He stared at Howard, eyebrows heading for his hairline. "Aren't you supposed to be my boss?"

"We're supposed to be equals." Howard sighed. "The three founders, Stark, Carter and Barnes..."

Bucky remained silent. What in the hell was he supposed to say? Here he was, in a muggy Romanian boarding house with the Director of SHIELD—who he'd believed was a good little heterosexual—picking up a mission originally assigned to three level two agents who were missing—presumed dead—and he was being hit on. He was too busy being confused to be flattered.

When he continued to say nothing, Howard let out a breath, sounding disappointed. "Well, it was worth a shot. Anyway, as I was saying, Palladium isn't ideal as a host metal but it's the best we've got. Ideally I'd need an isotope of vibranium—"

"Fuck," Bucky growled and rolled from his bed. There was no way he was going to listen to Stark talk about technical details all night. Time to call his bluff.

He crossed the room with purpose. Howard trailed off as he climbed onto his bed and Bucky awaited the inevitable loss of nerve. But Howard just watched him, lips slightly parted, a look of pleasant surprise on his face. Bucky grabbed his shoulder and flipped him onto his stomach, straddling his hips and leaning down to hiss in his ear.

"Shut up, Stark."

Howard shivered. "Make me."

Well damn. He wasn't bluffing after all. Bucky bit down on the soft spot where Howard's neck joined his shoulder, which drew a breathy cry. Howard's ass pressed up into Bucky's hips and Bucky ground down against him, arching his back to force him into the squeaking mattress. All that separated them was the thin material of their underwear and Bucky could feel himself swelling and stiffening. Shit, are you seriously about to fuck Howard Stark?

The ridge of his erection slotted between the cheeks of Howard's ass and Stark hummed a contented noise.

"Not chickening out, are we?" Bucky asked, hooking his thumb in the waistband of Howard's skivvies and pulling them slowly down.

"Not on your life," Howard gasped, raising his hips just enough to ease the removal of the garment. Bucky reached around and found him hard as a rock.

"Jesus, you're serious." He was breathing hard, nose rested against Howard's spine. "I don't have anything..."

"Drawer. Coconut oil."

"Why the fuck do you have coconut oil?"

"It's great for tanning."

Bucky found the little bottle with a blind grope and returned to rutting against Howard's ass. "Tanning? On a mission?"

"Are you gonna fuck me or what?"

Bucky pulled Howard's underwear the rest of the way off and shoved two freshly oiled fingers up his ass. Howard's breath left him and there was, at last, blessed silence. At least until Bucky curled the digits and pressed down. The moan that earned him was positively obscene.

"Fuck. Get on with it, Barnes."

Bucky growled, adding a third finger and working him open briefly before withdrawing them and yanking down his underwear. He was dripping and twitched in his hand when he spread the oil over himself. He shoved Howard's thighs apart with his knees and pulled his hips up off the bed—the only warning before he thrust in.

Howard gave a choked-off groan and fell quiet; the only sound his heaving breaths. Bucky was buried to the hilt and he could feel Howard's muscles spasming around him. He remained still, letting his adjust and biting softly at the back of his neck.

He waited until the vice grip loosened before beginning to move. Howard's voice returned, the slap of skin interrupted by grunts and cries. Bucky rocked back and forth, starting slow—if not gentle—and working up to the head-to-root thrusts that had Howard moaning like a whore. He kept Howard pinned to the sheets by his wrists with one hand, stroking him with the other. His mouth remained at Howard's neck, sucking welts into his skin as he drove in and out of him.

Neither of them lasted very long, but Bucky would still consider it one of the better nights of his life. Stark was the most enthusiastic fuck he'd ever had. He met every thrust with vigour, getting tighter and tighter until he came, going taut as a bowstring and clenching around Bucky's cock. He was almost silent, gasping when Bucky brushed his prostate, but otherwise quiet as he spilled on the sheets. Bucky finished with his face buried in Howard's shoulder, thrusting balls-deep one more time. The peak of his orgasm came sharp and sudden and overwhelming and he couldn't stop his whimpered moan as he emptied in spurts into Howard.

Howard shuddered at the desperate sound. "Fuck, Barnes..."

Bucky slid in and out of him a few more times, riding out the aftershocks and slowing his breathing. When he pulled out and collapsed on the bed Howard gave a satisfied groan.

"Remind me to annoy you more often."

"Since when are you queer?"

Howard shrugged. "I'm not. I'm just not picky."

Bucky rolled out of the bed, his legs like jelly, and grabbed one of the wet cloths from earlier, wiping himself off before tossing it to Howard and collapsing into this own bed.

"Good night, Stark."

Howard chuckled, exhausted. "Night, Barnes."

~8~8~8~8~8~8~

When Howard woke it was still dark. The streets below the window were quiet. A soft breeze was filtering through the room, stirring the gauzy old curtains. He almost rolled over and went back to sleep, but a prickle went up and down his spine. Something was wrong.

He glanced over at Bucky but found the bed empty. The sheets were still tangled and his clothes were where they'd been dropped in the previous night's haste. The bag with his clean clothes hadn't been touched either. It was as if he'd simply vanished.

The room was too quiet; too still. It wasn't the quiet of an empty room, but that of someone who was actively trying to be quiet. There was a shift in the air and Howard saw movement in the space beyond the bedroom shutters. He rolled from the bed and reached for the gun he'd stashed underneath. The pop of two silenced shots broke the quiet and the pillows on both beds burst into plumes of feathers. The shutters parted and Howard came up, finger on the trigger.

A heavy boot kicked the pistol from his hands. He rolled out of the way of another pop which cracked the floorboards behind where he'd been crouched. He scrambled to retrieve the gun and had to kick they guy to buy time. In the dark it was almost impossible to differentiate between the matte black of the firearm and the wood floor. He was groping blindly when a gloved hand pulled him back by his hair.

He hit the floor hard, his head making a hollow sound on the wood. When he sat up, trying to lash out, he found the barrel of a Tokarev staring him in the eye.

Fuck.

There was a burst of movement and Barnes melted out of the darkness, looping a garrotte around the intruder's neck, hauling him to the side and onto his knees. The gloved man gurgled and thrashed, dropping his gun and pawing in vain at his throat. Barnes was unyielding, arms bulging as the wire started to cut into the man's neck. In less than a minute, the man was in a crumpled heap on the floor and Bucky was going through his pockets.

"Shit. KGB." Bucky glanced around, his naked flesh glowing in the moonlight like a ghost. Howard was still sprawled where he'd been thrown; staring at Bucky's bloodied hands as he returned the KGB work pass to the man's pocket. He couldn't sort out whether he was horrified or aroused by the ease with which Barnes had dispatched their would-be murderer. He was too busy reliving the dark tunnel of the Tokarev's barrel.

"He won't be alone. We need to move." Bucky started packing up his dirty clothes, slipping on fresh ones. "Stark, move!"

Howard shook his head and scrambled to his feet. His hands trembled ever so slightly as he gathered up his discarded clothing and his gun. "How did they find us? We had Canadian passports and false names. Even if they knew we were here..."

"Someone must have intercepted our radio traffic."

"Impossible. I set the encryption on those things, there's no way—"

Bucky shoved his pistol into his belt. "I reported our position to HQ last night and four hours later the KGB busts down our door? That's not a coincidence, Howard."

He stumbled as he pulled up his trousers. "There's no way the Ruskies got past my encryption. There's no way."

"Then how the fuck do they know where we are?"

Howard gulped. He hated the thought already, but he'd been suspecting it for a while. Too many agents had gone missing; too many ops had been blown.

"I think we have a mole."

~8~8~8~8~8~8~

"Who knew about the mission?"

Peggy pinched the bridge of her nose. "Most of the major staff of the covert operations section."

Bucky leaned on his elbows over the conference table, hands in his freshly showered hair. The major staff consisted of probably three dozen people. If they counted the lesser staff who handled the minutiae of assignments that number could easily triple. That was a lot of potential suspects.

"Maybe we can narrow it down," Howard began. "Cross reference between all the missions where we've lost agents and suspected or confirmed KGB involvement. See who knew about all of them."

Bucky looked up from the table. Peggy was nodding. Howard looked as exhausted as Bucky felt. They'd slept a grand total of five hours in the last forty-eight. Neither of them had been able to sleep on the plane, no matter how hard they'd tried. It didn't help that they'd had to divert from their original flight route for fear of being shot down. He knew he looked like shit and so did Howard. At least they'd both left the night's activities out of their reports.

"Limit it to those who were there when I reported in. We didn't have any trouble beforehand."

Peggy jotted down a few notes and spun the pen in her fingers. "We'll keep this close to our chests. It does not leave this room."

"What about Gabe, Dum Dum, and Jim?" We really gonna keep them out of the loop?" Bucky sat back in his chair. The view of the Washington Monument was partially obscured in early morning fog, a bone-white spire above a grey, coiling ocean. The Potomac was about the only other thing he could see, a lighter band in the fog, bracketed on either side by the dark outlines of the trees. The fog had rolled in just before they'd come into Washington National. It had been an interesting landing.

"I've already talked to them. I'm afraid they'll be the only help we have on this."

"I'll get Jarvis to—"

"Stark, you're butler does not have the clearance—"

"Clearance shmearance. I'd trust Jarvis with my life."

"It's an internal SHIELD matter, Howard."

"Guys, knock it off," Bucky interrupted. He could feel a headache coming on. "Look, we've worked with Jarvis before and as far as I see it, the more trustworthy help we can get, the better."

Peggy pulled a face. "Fine. But we're not bringing in anyone else, and I mean it. I don't want to lose any more agents."

"Neither do I," Howard replied. "That's why I've compartmentalized. Covert Ops is on need-to-know for the foreseeable future. If any more ops go south it'll reduce our suspect pool."

"Good. Once our suspect list is below ten, start distributing misinformation. We might be able to weed out our little red friend without him knowing."

Howard smirked but Bucky frowned. He'd been hoping that he'd get to personally kick the ass of the rat who'd sold them out. Keeping him around to send false intel back to Moscow seemed like letting him off easy.

"All right, boys," Peggy said, rising from her chair. "Let's get back to work."

~8~8~8~8~8~8~

After getting Dugan, Jim, and Gabe up to speed, Bucky returned to his apartment and slept for a glorious, uninterrupted ten hours. The next day he stayed home, sifting through personnel files and mission reports. It was frustrating looking at the faces of men and women that he'd recruited and knowing that one of them could be a traitor working for the Soviets.

He was angry by the time he got to the bottom of the pile. There were twenty-seven agents who'd been involved in all the compromised missions and that was just his pile. Peggy and Howard would have more. Liam Murphy was on the list, as were Anne Hammond and Douglas Reeves, two of his more promising agents. A selfish part of him hoped that the mole was someone that Howard had brought in.

Statistically, the odds were in Stark's favour. He'd had a pile twice the size of Bucky's and another box of files marked CLASSIFIED: OPERATION PAPERCLIP. He'd declined to tell him what Paperclip was and Bucky hadn't been in the mood to press the issue.

It came as a pleasant distraction when his phone rang and Rebecca was on the other end. He hadn't spoken to his sister in months and he needed to now, more than ever. Thankfully she'd called to tell him she was in town, so he'd get to see her face-to-face.

Bucky decided to shell out and gave his sister the address of the most expensive restaurant in the city. He knew there was a good chance he'd run into some of his congressional enemies, but it'd be worth it if it meant pampering his sister. He did end up bumping into Richard Nixon while he waited and the Congressman gave him one hell of a cold shoulder. Bucky couldn't find it within him to give a damn.

When Rebecca showed up she was dressed to the nines. He'd never seen her in anything so fancy and he must have been staring because as they sat down, she narrowed her eyes.

"What? You think you're the only one with money?"

"Your factory job pays well enough for diamonds?"

Becca jabbed him with her fork. "If you must know, they were a gift."

He leaned across the table, conspiratorial. "You got a rich boyfriend now?"

"And you don't?"

"I'll have you know I work hard for my money." He tapped the little brass pin on his lapel—the eagle emblem of SHIELD. "You know it's been less than seventy-two hours since I was shot at last."

His sister frowned. "You were the one who chose to be a spy."

"Because I had so many options."

His sarcasm didn't seem to have any effect. "Run for office," Becca said, waving her fingers like some hack magician trying to hypnotize someone.

"I'm not running for office. Jesus, why does everyone want me to turn into some boring old senator?"

"Do you know how much action senators get?"

Bucky snorted. "Yeah, and that action is female. Seeing you naked up at the lake in '34 was bad enough."

She jabbed him again.

Their lunch arrived on bone china that was probably worth more than Bucky's first apartment. The food was decent, but he got impression that it was the plates he was paying for. He'd had better meals at cheaper places.

"In all seriousness," Becca began. "You don't have anyone in your life?"

Bucky shrugged. It was a topic he'd tried to avoid.

"I know no one's going to measure up to Steve, but you can't spend the rest of your life alone."

"I know." He poked at his food. "I just... I haven't found the right guy yet."

"Well you're not going to find him running around Europe playing spy. You should try settling down."

"What, and have a desk job for the rest of my life? No thanks."

Becca grumbled. "We worry about you, y'know."

"Who's we?" Bucky couldn't exactly see his parents fretting, not after the last conversation they'd had. And it certainly wasn't going to be Thomas.

"Nana and I."

Bucky swallowed. He knew without asking that it wasn't Grandma Bernice that Becca was referring to. She didn't get along with Old Benny or Grandpa Irving. The Barnes' had never completely approved of their son marrying a Jew from Romania, even if she had anglicized her name.

"Nana's worried about me?" It was somewhat of a surprise. Nana Angelescu was an old-fashioned woman. She went to synagogue daily. She spoke perfect Hebrew. What Bucky knew of the Torah had come from her. "Does she know why the folks and I aren't talkin'?"

"Yes."

"And she's not mad?"

Becca chuckled. "The only thing she's mad about is that you weren't circumcised."

"She's always been mad about that." He gulped back a generous amount of wine. "She doesn't care that I'm..."

"A big ol' queer? No." Becca's smile became a smirk. "She sussed you out when you were six. Said no regular boy takes that much interest in the tuckus of his male cousin."

Bucky felt his face flush. "Third cousin, twice removed," he insisted.

His sister giggled, falling back in her seat. "Sure, sure. You know I've never seen that shade of red on a face before."

"Bite me."

"Oh, ease up, Buck Rogers. I'm only teasin'." She ate the last bite of her lamb and dabbed at the corners of her mouth. "Look, she wants to see you."

"Be serious."

"I am being serious." She put on the pouty look that had always worked on their father.

"I thought I was persona-non-grata with the family."

"With Ma and Pops, sure. They actually turned the TV off when your hearing came on, and you know how dad likes watchin' McCarthy."

"I don't, actually. Last time I was in that house you guys didn't have a television."

Becca bit her lip. "Right. But the point is, Grandma wants to see you."

Bucky poked again at the last of his lunch. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but at the same time, the possibility that some branch of his family might still want him around was supremely comforting. And he'd always liked Grandma Angelescu.

"When does she want me there?"

Rebecca laughed, loud and hearty. "Christ almighty, Bucky. You have been in the Capitol too long." She drained her wine. "You don't have to make an appointment. She's family. Just drop in."

"All right. Tell her I'll come see her once work's cooled down a bit."

Becca leaned forward once more, with a grin and a glint in her eyes that he generally associated with reporters who'd just found a good story. "Spy situation?"

"You could say that."

"What else could you say?"

"Nothing." Bucky narrowed his eyes. "I'm not handing out classified information. You know I get paid to keep secrets, right?"

Becca threw up her arms theatrically. "Ruin my fun."

"If you want clearance you can join SHIELD."

"Ha!" She poked his nose. "Nice try."

He shrugged. "It was worth a shot."