AN: Thanks to everybody who reviewed and the well wishes, they meant a lot. As promised, here is a nice quick update which is also twice as long as any of the previous chapters. I hope no one finds Coulson a bit OOC in this, remember he's under pressure. Enjoy!
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-SHIELD-
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"Phelps, continue to track the feed, I-"
"I can't, the feed-"
"I WANT THAT BASTARD FOUND!" yelled Coulson, turning to face Phelps.
"Agent Coulson!" snapped Hill stepping in front of the senior agent. "Take a walk."
Coulson faltered for a second, looking at the young confident woman in front of him who was staring straight at him, blocking his view of agent Phelps. Gritting his teeth he turned around and stormed out of the room.
Hill released the breath she realised she had been holding once the door had slammed shut behind Coulson, turning around she looked at Phelps who was sitting with his mouth hanging open.
"You realise that I've only ever seen Barton stand up to Coulson like that," stated Phelps. "And live."
"Find me something, anything. I don't care if it's so thin on evidence that it's anorexic. Coulson won't be gone for long and we need to have something."
Phelps nodded quickly, "Okay, I'm not sure what, but sure, pulling miracles out of nowhere is what we do, right?"
Hill didn't answer only looked around the room as people still continued to stare at her. She was a junior agent that had just told a senior agent where to go, and she was still standing. She was sure the consequences of what she just did would hit any minute now, so taking another deep breath she stood up a bit straighter and addressed the room. Time to make the most of being in this position.
"Listen up people; I don't believe Barton is dead."
"We just watched Barton get shot. In the chest. How is he not dead?" interrupted one of the analysts.
"It was a small calibre round probably a 22, if you want to kill somebody with that you need to shoot them in the head. With the angle that the shot came from, it's probable that the bullet didn't go that deep. It certainly didn't go straight through."
"How'd you know?"
"No blood splatter," shrugged Hill stating like it was obvious. "Sanson has been playing with us, playing with Barton. He told us he wanted a file, even though he said it wasn't important I want to know what that file is." Hill pointed to the analyst that had interrupted her. "Call The Hub, get a copy to us."
"On it."
"He's leading up to something, testing us. He planned to shoot Barton." The realisation of that stopped her train of thought for a moment as something else occurred to her. She looked across to another analyst. "Call medical, I want a report from the trauma team on everything it would take to treat a wound like Barton just received. If we can't track this guy, maybe we can track his purchases."
The analyst nodded in agreement before picking up the nearest phone.
"Everybody else I need every SHIELD system on every base, checked and double checked for a breach. In fact, I want every computer, laptop and smart phone owned by every employee checked."
"How on earth are we meant to catalogue that?" asked one analyst in doubt.
"I don't care if you start with Agent Aaron in accounting or the SHIELD base in Algeria," shrugged Hill. "Just get it done."
Nobody argued as they all turned back to their computer screens and started to work.
"Did you know that you're quite scary when you're giving orders?" asked Phelps quietly.
Hill smirked, "Just find me something to present to Coulson."
"Yes Ma'am."
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-SHIELD—
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Coulson hadn't realised how far or even where he had walked to until he pushed open an exterior door. The wind whipped the door open so far that it bounced off the exterior wall with a crash. Taking a few steps he realised he was near the area by the outside range that Barton used for his archery practice. Taking a few deep breaths he walked down towards one of the targets.
Barton was dead. Barton was dead. Barton was dead.
It kept running through his head over and over again. Barton was dead!
"I haven't seen you look this stressed since Barton went undercover on the Sawyer Op," said Fury coming up behind Coulson.
"Barton nearly died on that Op, and now he really is dead," sighed Coulson turning to look at Fury. The fact that the director knew why he was out here, didn't surprise him. Fury knew everything.
"The kid is resilient, he's proved that time and time again," shrugged Fury.
"He was just shot in the chest," snapped Coulson, his temper returning.
Fury didn't say anything in return. He knew how Coulson was feeling, he'd lost agents before. Sometimes the only way to start accepting what had happened was to lose control.
"I don't know where else to look. I failed him. When I recruited him I told him he'd never be alone again. That someone would always have his back."
"Nobody is giving up. Hill certainly isn't, she has everybody searching for new leads as we speak," said Fury. "She also believes this guy is still playing us."
Fury watched as Coulson thought that over. Seeing the agent visibly pull himself back together again. Emotions being pulled back into their box, walls being built back up until the man standing in front of him was the experienced agent that was the grounding force of many field operations.
"Barton said there was another player," pointed out Coulson. "But he couldn't have been in the same room as them or he would of seen Barton stand up."
"How does that help?" asked Fury getting Coulson to carry on his train of thought.
"You want to keep a secret, you don't tell anybody. If you have to you could tell one other person, anymore than that and it's no longer a secret."
"So what's your point?"
"This isn't a one man operation. Barton has seen one other person, the tech guy. Likelihood is that this is something big, something with more people involved than these two. The way this whole thing has played out, from the abduction, to the emails, and now this live video. This is a large group, they're co-ordinated, it's like Hydra have risen again."
Fury huffed in response, "I'm pretty sure we can rule out Hydra on this one, your hero took them out a long time ago."
Coulson smirked, "With something this large, there must be chatter of some kind."
"I thought Phelps had checked that angle."
"He did, but-" Coulson's phone beeped, pulling it out he looked at the message before looking up at Fury. "Sanson is back on screen."
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-SHIELD—
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"Director Fury, so nice to see you," laughed Sanson as Fury and Coulson walked back into the room.
"Where's my agent?" asked Fury, glaring up at the screen.
"Oh he's right here. One tough cookie, he's still breathing." The camera zoomed out as Sanson pointed to a table near to him where Barton was laying on his back, gasping as he struggled to breathe.
"So here's my thing, I promise to save the life of your agent if you do something for me."
"And what would that be?" asked Fury.
"This is Thomas Wheeler," said Sanson holding up a photograph of a man in an orange jumpsuit. "He's currently in jail near Chicago, I forget which one." shrugged Sanson. "I want him dead, well not me specifically but someone I know wants him dead. Don't worry he's a child molester among other things so think of it as doing the world a favour."
Sanson turned back to Barton, turning the young man's head towards the camera, blood dribbled from his mouth. "Now I figure your boy has about fifteen minutes and that's probably pushing it. He should really take better care of himself," he said whimsically. "My number is programmed into Agent Robbins' cell, but it will only be active for the next nine and a half minutes. If I don't receive a call from the Director himself then Agent Barton is dead."
The screen went black as the video cut off abruptly.
"Find me Agent Robbins," ordered Fury.
"We have two," answered Hill who already had her tablet in hand, turning it to show the director two pictures. One of a young woman the other of an older man.
"Call them both."
"Sir, I have an Agent Jayne Robbins wanting to speak to you," shouted one of the analysts from the centre of the room.
"That was fast," muttered Coulson.
"This guy is broadcasting across the entire SHIELD network, every SHIELD employee who is near a screen can see what's going on," informed Hill.
"Tell me about Robbins," ordered Fury.
"Agent Jayne Robbins, thirty two years old, from Chicago, she's been an agent for two years, before that she was with the FBI for five years. We recruited her after she was dismissed from the FBI after she disobeyed a hold order, but in doing so she saved the lives of three girls who were being held hostage by two gunmen. That's what she does sir; she's the lead agent for our hostage rescue team."
"He's still playing with us," growled Coulson, clenching his fists as he tried to keep his temper under control.
"The Target?"
"Exactly as he said. Thomas Wheeler was incarcerated two months ago with various charges, including child molestation with links to child pornography. He was also suspected in trafficking children for the purpose of sex crimes but that could never be proven. He's been in solitary confinement for 91% of his time in prison due to another prisoner trying to kill him," said Agent Phelps, putting the information on the large screen.
"Put Agent Robbins through," ordered Fury.
"Yes, Sir."
"Agent Robbins, talk to me."
"Director, Sir. I've got an unknown number on my phone. It's saved under the name Barton. Sir, I've never met Agent Barton."
"You've never noticed it before?"
"According to my phone it was added this morning. Sir, my phone had an automatic update this morning," said Agent Robbins.
"Send the number through agent and stay on the line."
"Yes sir."
"You think calling is a good idea?" asked Coulson. They had another four minutes on the clock and as much as he wanted to save Barton and bring him home, he didn't like the idea of negotiating with Sanson. It just screamed more trouble for them.
"You want me not to call?" asked Fury in surprise. Ten minutes ago he was trying to calm his senior agent down before he tore into more analysts in his search for Barton.
"I didn't say that."
"I understand Coulson, but he's broadcasting to the entire agency. If I don't call we will have an uprising."
"So not because we actually want Barton back?" snapped Coulson.
"I do want Barton back. Don't ever think that I would hang one of my agent's out to dry," warned Fury.
Coulson knew in his heart that, Fury would always do his best to bring an agent home, but this situation seemed to spiralling further and further out of their control. They had one guy who seemed to know everything about SHIELD, could get in and out of their database without detection, and now he was holding the director himself for ransom. He started to wonder if it was anybody but Barton at risk if he would advise the director to not call Sanson back, but it was Barton and the words he knew logically he should be saying would never come out.
"Call the number," ordered Fury.
"Trap and trace," whispered Hill to Phelps.
"On it."
After several rings every screen in the room switched to show Sanson.
"Good morning Director Fury, or is it afternoon where you are? Time zones, who can keep track?" laughed Sanson.
"Wheeler will be dead by the end of the day," said Fury.
"Excellent," grinned Sanson.
"And Barton?"
"He'll be all nice and shiny, in fact I've already started." Sanson moved backwards to show Barton still on the table, this time with an added chest drain.
Coulson focused on Barton's breathing, it seemed to have eased, but the lines around his eyes showed that he was still in an incredible amount of pain.
Sanson held a pair of forceps in one hand, lowering the tip to Barton's skin. Pushing them further and further inside of the young agent. Barton's eyes that were once closed snapped open suddenly, his hands clenched, his back arching as the pain intensified.
Twenty minutes later and Barton was unconscious again having only cried out once. Sanson snipped the surgical thread as he finished tying the last stitch. "You have two hours to complete the assassination of Thomas Wheeler, or you'll get your agent back. In a body bag."
The screen went black again.
"Find Agent May, fill her in on the situation. Tell her to remove Wheeler from the equation," ordered Fury. "Those exact words."
May would understand, she would remove Wheeler from the prison, fake his death and hide the man away. Fury was not going to assassinate anybody without checking every detail, more than once. His agency would not be manipulated for another man's game. He stood up to the World Security Counsel, he could stand up to this guy.
"What else have we got?"
The room stayed silent for a moment before Phelps piped up. "The phone tap bounced around the country so I couldn't tack Sanson, but I've got the data from this trace and the data we had from the other attempts overlaying, maybe we'll get a match a ping that overlaps."
"Is that all?" asked Coulson.
"No, I tried tracking down the name Sanson. It's not that common in the US, in the last census there was less than three thousand people with that surname. It is however most prevalent in the state of Washington, which could explain the not so distinct accent that the FBI mentioned."
"Anything else?"
"Yeah, I think this guy spent a lot of time in the UK. An ex-girlfriend of mine was from England, 'bloody hell' was her go to curse. Anything from spilt tea or someone cutting her off on the highway, she'd say it all the time. Maybe they'll be a match between those born in Washington and those having lived in the UK."
"You've found something else?" asked Fury, focusing on Phelps.
"Yes," muttered Phelps looking abit unsure of himself. Taking a deep breath he continued. "When you do a simple google search the top answer is a Charles-Henri Sanson, in the 18th century he was a French executioner, who executed more than 3,000 people including a king. In fact there is a whole family of Sanson executioners. I've got a family tree being traced as we speak."
"So either this guy wants to live up to the family name or Sanson means nothing more than a codename, and we still have nothing," sighed Coulson.
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-SHIELD—
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