Peter stood in the cab line outside Terminal Five with his phone to his ear, swearing softly.
"Cmon, c'mon… answer, damn it. Where are you?"
He'd been trying to get Walter and Astrid since the plane wheels touched the tarmac.
It only hit him now why his calls were going to voice mail every time: Astrid was most definitely driving, her hands very full with focusing on the road and keeping Walter calm. Walter being of his generation? Yeah. Genius though he was, he had his phone off. To conserve the battery.
It didn't matter, Peter told himself as he slid in to the next available cab. They were close behind him, based on driving miles from Boston to New York and his flight time from Atlanta with a wait.
They'd be together soon.
"Seven World Trade," he told the driver; the street address of Massive Dynamic, clearly where they would need to start.
He sat back and let his hand with the phone drop, looking out the window. He'd been busy on the plane, blessedly – thinking through their next moves, surrounded by scores of other people, busy with the familiar routines of flight. Now it was just him alone in the dark, the cab pulling away from the airport.
He wondered for the million and tenth time if Etta was hurting. He pictured Olivia encased in amber. He wasn't sure why, but he was fixated on whether her eyes were opened or closed. He pictured her staring, tall, shoulders back. Unafraid.
He felt his eyes stinging, his throat tightening right as the car hit the highway. He was glad for every jostle and thump as the driver veered and sped and almost torpedoed toward Manhattan. The bumps pulled him into the moment, kept the images of the very worst that might possibly be at bay.
He couldn't give in. There was still time. They could get her out.
This wasn't over.
"Nina? Where are you?"
The skyline was in sight when his phone rang, the Empire State Building lit up in blue and red and yellow.
The call wasn't clear – was full of static, breakup.
"… in … D.C…." he heard her say. "Negotiating with… to keep Massive….open. Can you hear me?"
"Barely, but yes. Go on. Have you spoken with them?"
"Yes. And I've sent help. William….is on….way."
She couldn't have said what he thought she….
"Did you get that, Peter?"
Now he could hear every syllable as if she were sitting next to him.
"I said William Bell is on the way to help you navigate the basement, get you the tools you need to break through the amber. Walter's pretty sure he knows where Olivia was when…"
"William Bell is …."
"Alive, yes. Obviously." Nina could still command a room, even over a cell connection. She had to know how much Peter hated him, would like to strangle him for what he had done. "And you need him. So let's get through this, okay?"
"Where has he been, Nina?"
"It doesn't matter," she snapped. Then there was silence and she appeared to have been rethinking her approach because her voice wasn't as hard when she continued. "Peter, it's very risky saying anything this way but to be as succinct as possible… he's been quietly helping Walter with his plan. And he's got… them thinking he's assisting them."
William Bell, double agent. Less than shocking. Perfect sense, actually. That is, if he were sane now. Peter opened his mouth to ask and shut it again. Nina and Walter must have determined he was, or they wouldn't be having this conversation at all.
"How's Walter?" Peter asked. "How did he sound when you spoke with him?"
"He was coming down from an epic rant," Nina said. "He ambered the lab before they left, he and Astrid. He's armed to the teeth with ambering devices, like some Wild West gunslinger. Peter, he was… he was on the phone with Olivia when it happened."
He knew that already, but even as stressed and hurting as he was, Peter felt the full pain of it again. Walter, for all his hardness, his obtuseness … having to listen to her voice while…. Shit.
"The three of you will get to her faster and get away more effectively with William's help," Nina said, her voice clearly a plea for Peter not to take him out at first sight.
"Yeah," Peter said. "I get it. I'll keep you posted, okay? And Nina… thank you."
"Nina specifically said the gear we need is in the first basement. Directly below the ground floor."
Astrid was glancing between Walter and William Bell and the staircase to their left that, as far as she could tell, would get them right where they needed to be.
"It's been months since Nina has had time to come down here," Bell said, hands clasped behind his back and eyes fixed on the elevator doors, waiting for the car to arrive. "It's been substantially longer since you've been here Walter. Trust me. It's why I was sent, the only reason I'm tagging along at all…"
He glanced at Walter and saw him vacillating, worried eyes aimed at Astrid in apology.
"Belly's right, he's… practically been living here…" Walter trailed off and Bell nodded.
"Which would you prefer, Astrid?" Bell asked. "That when Peter joins us we are packed up and ready to go look for Olivia or still reconnoitering for the tools we need?"
"Of course," Astrid relaxed, ran an arm over Walter's back. "I'm just jumpy."
"As are we all, my dear," Walter said.
They were silent as the elevator opened, as the floors sped by while they sank to the sub-sub-sub-basement.
"Olivia had a question I couldn't answer…" Walter finally said, almost as much to himself as to Bell. "She wanted to know if she would feel each second in the Amber. I know… I think that's been improved. Do you…"
"It has. She won't." William said with a slight shake of his head. "It'll be as if she's waking from a nap. There's not much I can promise you, my friend. But that much? I can."
"Good," Walter was nodding fast, eyes on the floor. "I'm ….most happy to hear that."
They were fastening backpacks when Peter found them: Walter, Bell and Astrid pulling the ties tight, throwing them over their shoulders, getting ready to leave the storage room behind.
He watched them, counting down from a hundred in his head, feeling his blood pressure rising. He was fighting his instincts, his deep-seated desire to walk over and break Bell's neck.
He was old. It would be so easy.
"Son!" Walter had seen him and was there in a flash, arms going around him. He felt the twin sensations of being comforted and needed and he wanted nothing more than to sink into that.
It was his third reminder in an hour of what mattered. And if Bell could help them….
Still. No.
Peter pushed Walter away gently and went for Bell, changing course as Bell tried to dodge him, grabbing him by the front of his throat and landing a punch in his gut, what there was of it.
Bell crumpled, dropping his pack as he hit the floor.
"Peter!" Walter shouted it, Astrid gasping behind him.
"Not sorry," Peter said, to Walter not Bell. "I'm out of forgiveness. And that was nothing. You have no idea what I want to…."
Bell was still out flat, barely moving toward lifting up on his elbows when it started: ear-splitting sirens, thin white strobe lights flashing, spinning, making it hard to focus on anything.
"What is that?" Peter went to Bell and dragged him up to sitting. "You're the expert, so what the hell is…."
"The building," Bell could only get one word out at a time. "It's going…into lockdown. They must know we're here. They've seen us. Closed circuit TV most likely."
"Awesome," Peter took Walter's backpack from him and pushed Bell up to standing. "Let's go kill a few of them on the way out of here, huh?"
"Peter," Walter murmured as they headed for the door. "He's on our side, he's…."
"Is he?" Peter asked. "Exactly how sure are you, dad?"
They bolted for the stairs rather than the elevator on instinct, sirens screaming as they went.
Peter let Walter take the front, and he put an arm around Astrid as they brought up the rear.
There were a dozen floors between them and the street, sixty or seventy blocks more to Olivia. Peter didn't like the numbers at all. And he couldn't help feeling Bell was the mathematician to blame.
