Once they backtracked to the docks at Katakolon Olympia, Greece, Peggy saw that Howard's yacht had already left.
Fear gripped her at the thought that they were too late. Then she saw that the massive boat was anchored about a half-mile away, just past the breakwaters. Why Smith had not continued going was beyond her, but she would happily take whatever opportunities handed them.
Racing down the docks, Peggy hoped that Howard was alright. Besides worrying about her friend's health, the Colonel would kill her if she lost their prized inventor to the competition.
Stopping where the berths ended, Peggy turned to ask the Russians about their boat. That was when she saw what they stood stoically next to. She had to hold back her cough of derision when Dimitri and Zdenka revealed their 'vessel' to her and Jarvis. It was even worse than what they had optimistically called a car.
After her recent experience on Howard's yacht, she actually felt bad for them. The dilapidated boat consisted of a small ramshackle cabin on top of a rotting dinghy. And the helm, with its half-broken steering wheel, was located on its roof.
Scoffing to herself, Peggy realized that the short time on Howard's yacht had really spoiled her.
Beside her, Jarvis did an outraged snort of disgust. Though he worked tirelessly in the service industry, he was still used to luxury. "You can't be serious that we get into that? I might catch a disease."
The two Russians' smirked, and Peggy whispered to Jarvis harshly, "Beggars can't be choosers."
"Can choosers be beggars?" Jarvis replied smartly.
Leaning over the mooring rope, Dmitri began to unwind it from the cleat, preparing them to cast off, "I know you two are used to nicer things, comrade, but she is right. You do not have many options."
Before Jarvis could retort, Peggy addressed the group with forced jovialness, "Well, shall we board?"
After shaking his head from displeasure, Jarvis assisted Peggy into the dinghy. Once he followed suit, the vessel's bow sunk dangerously low under their combined weight. Then the Russians hopped in, and the boat evened out.
Getting behind the wheel, Dmitri started the motor, and it sputtered awake. Suddenly, the small boat lurched forward, and off they went. The engine sounded as if it was straining, and Peggy expected smoke to billow out at any moment. She looked up at the male Russian, who smiled disarmingly at her.
Peggy glanced from Howard's yacht to Dmitri and then back again. He followed her gaze. She asked, "So, you say you can handle yourself?" She knew that Smith had at least four goons left alive, plus Hodge. But there was the chance that Smith had not taken the entirety of his crew to the Zeus statue, and they were all on board unseen.
"Trust me," Dmitri said smugly, and Peggy rolled her eyes. That was just what she needed, a Russian cowboy along for the ride.
Honestly, Peggy felt that she could never trust the Soviets again. Besides being linked to Chief Dooley's murder, their government had been caught doing all sorts of nasty spy stuff against the American government and their allies after the war.
Peggy sighed, bothered. But even as she thought about their country's troubled history toward one another, they would need their help to free Howard and Spencer. Unfortunately, the dinghy made too much noise to sneak up on the yacht, so they would have to try something else.
"There is no way to arrive unnoticed." Peggy made sure that her gaze focused on the two Russians, "So since you two are the unknowns, you will be our diversion. While you keep the CIA occupied, Jarvis and I will enter the lab via the underwater hatch."
Jarvis nodded, "Yes, good thinking, Miss Carter. I know Mr. Stark's habits. If he is not in his workshop, he will be in his other preferred location, the bedroom. And since he wanted easy access to both at any given time, a secret corridor links them up."
Peggy smiled at him and then focused on the Russians, "Then, once Jarvis and I rescue Howard and Professor Spencer, we will meet you on the bridge. Between the six of us, we can commandeer the boat, err, yacht back. Think you can handle that?"
Dmitri shrugged, "Your plan is sound."
"Good." Then, after a brisk nod to Jarvis, Peggy began to remove her boots and any other weighty items that could make swimming more difficult.
Muttering a few indiscernible words, Jarvis quickly did the same.
Forlornly she left her guns on the Russian dinghy, tucked in her boots. Unfortunately, the weapons never did very well after a bath. She still kept her combat knife hooked to her side, though.
As the dinghy motored closer, they could now see that the CIA's own vessel was hooked to the back of the yacht. After seeing that, Peggy knew they must view Howard's massive yacht as an upgrade.
Just before they got within range of possibly being seen, Peggy and Jarvis slipped into the water.
Jarvis exhaled, relieved that he would no longer be in the small boat he had nicknamed 'Pestilence' under his breath. After a silent exchange, they held onto the stern of the dinghy, hidden from view by the ramshackle cabin.
While the decrepit dinghy sputtered up to the yacht, Dimitri nodded to Zdenka, who disappeared into the cramped cabin below.
Right before the small boat, aka Pestilence, could saddle up next to Howard's yacht, the male Russian was instantly challenged by the CIA lookout who bellowed, "Halt where you are!" His words caught another agent's attention, and he joined him in glaring down at the dinghy's occupant.
From her hiding spot, Peggy recognized them as the flamethrower toadies.
To show they were not to be trifled with, the goons ensured that their holstered guns were seen as they rested against the railing.
Dmitri switched off the motor and raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. He said in a flawless American accent, "My apologies for bothering you."
Peggy raised her eyebrow at Jarvis regarding the Russian's perfect southern drawl.
Dmitri continued, "But you don't by chance have any extra gasoline on you? Me and the misses are practically running on fumes."
One of the armed men sneered and said as an aside to the other agent, "Better get Smith."
As the goon ran off to do as he was told, Zdenka stepped forward from the small cabin wearing a very revealing bikini. The lone agent stood up taller and automatically straightened his rumpled appearance.
Secretly pleased at the man's response, Dmitri said, "Ah, this is my girlfriend, Nanette."
At Dmitri's subtle motion, Zdenka sashayed over to stand next to him. When she leaned forward suggestively, the agent ogled her openly. She gritted her teeth at Dmitri in anger, but he grinned genially. "Remember, it is all for the cause," he whispered to her.
Agent Smith, Hodge, and the other agent were there in moments, and they all eyed the Russians suspiciously.
Dmitri once more pleaded his case. "Sorry to bother you, pal, but my boat is nearly out of gas. Do you have any to spare for a fellow American?"
"I don't know what gave you that idea that we're Americans, buddy," Hodge growled.
Dmitri shrugged and nodded to the side of the yacht, "Oh, I just assumed you were, what with your boat being named 'The Heavy Tipper' and all."
Smith grumbled to Hodge, "We really need to change that."
His second-in-command grinned. Like the others, he was elated that they had finally gotten off that cramped boat of theirs.
Though the Russian's distraction was mostly successful, Peggy wondered where the last two agents were. They were the ones who had used the Tommy Guns on them, and she wouldn't mind returning the gesture.
Hoping those goons were stationed far from where they were headed, she nodded to Jarvis. Taking a deep breath, they sank and quickly swam to the sliding panel under Howard's lab. After locating the hidden hand crank, Jarvis ratcheted it until only a small portion of the concealed entrance glided open.
Cautiously, they swam up and bobbed on the surface of the water. Thankfully, no one was there.
Once they both got out of the water, Jarvis hit a button, and the underwater panel slid shut.
As Peggy wrung the excess liquid from her hair, Jarvis headed toward the most junk-filled area in the lab. Pointing at the Hydra submersible, he muttered, "It should be on the other side of that contraption." Squeezing behind it, they began to clear away the other bulky items that appeared dubious in functionality.
Noticing that his men had yet to stop ogling the spectacle below, an irritated Agent Smith chastised, "Agents, at least show some decorum. Now while I go make a few things clear with Captain Jasper, I want you two to continue keeping an eye out for trouble." He glanced down at Dmitri and Zdenka. Turning to Hodge, he ordered, "And get them a can of gasoline so they can be on their way."
As Hodge scurried off, Smith headed back towards the bridge. Now left behind, the two agents grumbled. After one last look at the attractive blonde-haired woman, they continued their sentry duties.
The Russians were not left alone for long, for Hodge ambled back with a full can of gasoline.
Seeing him approach, Dmitri discreetly elbowed Zdenka, who then remembered to smile cloyingly. As Hodge leaned over to hand the canister to Dmitri, his gaze was solely focused on Zdenka's cleavage.
The diversion worked, and Dmitri had no trouble yanking the large man off balance and onto the dinghy. Before Hodge could fight back, the Russian knocked him out with a quick judo chop to the neck.
After she shrugged on a shirt, Zdenka grabbed their meager belongings out of the boat's tiny cabin and tossed them onto the yacht. As an afterthought, she threw Peggy's and Jarvis' few possessions next to theirs.
While she was doing this, Dmitri doused the dinghy with the can of gasoline that Hodge had just given him.
With the coast clear, they shoved the knocked-out agent back onto the yacht's deck and climbed on board. After much exertion, the Russians stuffed the unconscious man into a nearby side closet. After he retrieved his gun, Dmitri added all their gear in with Hodge.
Without much ado, Dmitri lit a flare and pitched it into their rickety boat. When the flames began to lick along the old wood, the Russian pushed the vessel away with his foot.
The fire quickly spread, and Zdenka sniffed, "I will miss our comfy little home."
Patting her shoulder, Dmitri nodded but then glanced around Howard's yacht, "Yes, but look at what we have now, comrade!"
Together they watched the blazing dinghy as it drifted away.
When the flames rose and fully engulfed the small vessel, the Russians turned and headed for the yacht's upper deck.
Soon the billowing smoke alerted the two CIA lookouts, and they rushed to the rail.
Gaping horrified, the agents ineffectually tried to splash seawater onto the fire. Alas, it was too far away to be extinguished, and they watched, stunned when the tiny boat exploded.
After the debris sank, one of the agents murmured, "You don't think they were still on it, do you?"
"I sure hope not," he then shared a look of trepidation with his partner and added, "We better let Smith know just in case they snuck on board." And they headed up to the bridge.
Pacing back and forth in his lavish stateroom, Howard was devastated at the loss of his friends. Downing another gulp of whiskey, the millionaire inventor reminded himself that Peggy and Jarvis had endured before.
Not only had they survived the Pharos Lighthouse, but many other adversities over the years. So that meant there was a chance they had escaped the burning effigy of Zeus. But he couldn't be sure, and it did not help that Professor Spencer ignored him.
Instead, the tall skinny man was fervently reviewing his notes and studying the scanner's images. Finally, tired of hearing the frustrated Howard mumble and toss things about the room, he hissed, "Please be quiet. I am sorry about your friends, but we have other things to worry about now."
"Yeah, like figuring out how to get out of here." Howard eyed the two CIA goons who stood guard on either side of the door. They were the Tommy Gun wielding duo who now glared at Howard, just daring him to throw something their way.
"After what they had done to your friends, I think we should do whatever they say." Spencer grimaced, "Agent Smith seems like the type who would use torture to get what he wanted."
Howard jabbed a thumb against his own chest, "Look, pal, this is my boat, and I am the Captain when I am on board."
Spencer smirked, "I see you are just as stubborn as that female friend of yours. Well, you better change your tune, or you might end up like her."
Not taking the bait, Howard sneered, "I can't believe that you are so quick to give away our leverage about Rhodes." Frowning, he eyed the befuddled older man and then the notes that Spencer was scribbling down.
Clearing his throat, the Professor assured, "I just want to be alive to find the treasure."
His words finally hit Howard hard. The brilliant inventor suddenly realized that the treasure didn't matter anymore now that he had lost his two best friends. He just prayed that they had somehow escaped their deadly predicament.
Sighing an exhale of resolve, Howard knew what he must do. If his friends hadn't survived, then it was up to him to save Spencer and himself. Good thing he knew his yacht like the back of his hand. And he better since he had designed it himself. All he had to do was take the secret passage down to his lab. From there, they could easily sneak to the side room that housed the speedboat.
He was always pleased that he had put in that hidden route to reach his lab close by. By using it, he would not get distracted by mundane things that always seemed to pop up whenever he just wanted to tinker.
But now, he had to figure out how to get rid of the two goons stationed at the door. As if they suspected his plan, they eyed him suspiciously.
Good thing he was a bit of an actor as well as an accomplished inventor. He had learned a few things from all those movies he directed.
Pretending to be drunk, he staggered to the serving cart, bumping into it dramatically. When he poured himself another whiskey, most of the amber liquid missed the glass. Howard hoped his behavior worked to make them relax, but the two agents just glowered at him all the more.
Internally sighing, Howard had a feeling he was going to have to pull out all the stops to escape this pickle jar.
On the bridge, Agent Smith had just finished his firm discussion with the Captain of Howard's yacht.
Nursing a swollen eye and split lip, Captain Jasper nodded resigned, "Yes, sir."
With the threat of his revolver never wavering, Smith quirked a grin, "Now that is more like it. I am glad we have come to an understanding, Captain." He checked his watch, "And just in time too. Company will soon be arriving. Once my mercenaries are here, you will take us to the Greek island of Rhodes."
Jasper gritted from his bleeding mouth, "Yes, sir,"
"Excellent." Hearing the two agents who were supposed to be on lookout duty enter the bridge, Smith frowned. "What now?"
One blurted nervously, "The crappy boat that had those two blondes caught fire and sank."
"What? Well, where are they," he demanded.
Worriedly the agent gulped and stuttered, "We didn't see any bodies."
Squinting, Smith mumbled, "I had a feeling something was up with those two." Louder, he ordered, "Keep an eye out for them in case they have miraculously survived and are now on board. Oh, and track down Hodge. It shouldn't have taken him this long to hand out a can of gasoline. Hum, maybe that is where those two blondes are." Smith growled, "Hodge knows better than to play hanky-panky right now."
"We'll find him, sir!" And they quickly marched off to do as they were told.
After they left, Smith glanced out at the nearby harbor and frowned. Thinking a moment, he ordered Captain Jasper, "To keep any more interruptions to a minimum, we best head further from those busy docks. Motor us away, but at a slow pace, so my additional support does not miss us."
Feeling the boat lurch forward, Smith grinned, pleased. For once, everything was going his way. If events continued to go as planned, the agency might even give him a legitimate promotion. Or better yet, a bigger bonus.*
After finally getting the pile of objects out of the way, Jarvis activated the hidden lever. Nothing happened. Frowning, he tried pushing against the door, but it wouldn't budge.
They shared a look of consternation, and then Peggy helped him shove against it. Still, it would not yield. Jarvis exhaled loudly, "He must have it blocked on the other side with more clutter."
Frustrated, he berated the stubborn inventor, "I have told him time and again that he must keep this passage clear and not use it for additional storage. What if there was a fire down here?"
Not surprised it didn't work, Peggy patted his arm in sympathy. Howard could be such a blighter sometimes.
Sighing, Peggy did not look forward to traversing the three decks above to reach him. She knew more of those CIA goons had to be lurking about the boat.
When the SSR Agent felt the yacht suddenly move, she shared a look of concern with Jarvis.
Nodding at the stairs, Peggy said resignedly, "Come on. We'll just have to save Howard the old fashion way."
With no other choice, they silently crept up the stairs and onto the first deck. They had just made it to the foot of the main staircase when they heard voices nearing. Quickly they ducked back when two heavily armed agents ambled toward them. They were the flamethrower toadies. Slowly they tromped up the stairs to the middle level.
Much to Peggy and Jarvis's irritation, the men stopped at the top of the stairs to chat, thus blocking the safest route to reach Howard.
Peggy rolled her eyes.
Shaking his head in frustration, Jarvis jerked his thumb in the opposite direction that they would have to go. Alas, that meant that they would have to take their chances by using the more exposed exterior walkway to reach the rear staircase.
With Jarvis leading the way, they cautiously tiptoed toward the outside of the yacht.
Grimacing, Peggy thought that at least the interior carpeting had masked their wet footprints. Now she hoped that the late-day sun would cause their tracks to dissipate on the varnished wood rapidly. They certainly did not want to alert the new 'crew' that they were on board.
Ever observant, Howard had noticed that the agents guarding them seemed to covet the luxuries of the lavish cabin. Earlier, they had taken in the silken sheets on the bed, the expensive artwork adorning the walls, and the fine alcohol that the millionaire had bountiful decanters of in his stately lounge.
When Howard had spied their sorry excuse for a boat, he understood why. This did, though, give him an idea of how he and the Professor could get away. When he was first dragged here, he had tried to bribe the men with money. Naturally, they had proudly declined. Having been around the lap of luxury these past few hours, Howard wondered if they could be tempted now.
He remembered what his penniless father had always said, "When one is denied something, no matter how basic, they will covet it all the more." And Howard easily recognized that look in their greedy gaze.
Decision made, Howard stumbled through the bedroom towards the bathroom, which caused the larger agent to demand, "Hey Stark, just where you think you're going?"
Howard continued to act drunk and slurred, "I have to use the john."
That agent nodded to his partner and ordered, "Better check it out. Make sure he doesn't have some dangerous invention hidden in there."
Striding forward, the smaller agent shoved Howard out of the way. Poking his head into the huge bathroom, the man's voice echoed in soft wonder, "Hey, check it out. It even has some sort of whirlpool bath—"
Indignant, Howard spat, "That's already claimed, fellas."
Howard internally grinned when the larger agent snapped at him, "Quiet, he wasn't talking to you. Let me see that." It seemed that his trap had finally been sprung.
Curious, the larger agent marched over to join his partner inside the opulent bathroom. While his buddy rubbed the soft towels, he went to the water spa. His voice echoed back from the empty tub, "I can just imagine myself sitting in this with a roast beef sandwich in one hand and a cognac in the other."
The other agent patted his grumbling stomach, "Ah, don't mention food. Hey, you think Smith would let us order room service?"
With them both now crowding the water spa, Howard rushed over. In seconds he had slammed and locked the bathroom door behind them.
The outraged agents pounded on the door, and soon it began to crack from their combined strength.
Suddenly, Smith barked an order over the bedroom's intercom, "You two guarding Stark, bring him to the bridge. It's his turn to learn a lesson."
Smirking at his perfect timing, Howard faced Spencer, "Come on, Professor, that's our cue."
Instead of being pleased, the Professor rested his hands on his hips, looking like an upset schoolmarm, "Just what do you hope to accomplish, Mr. Stark? They will break through in moments, and then you will be sorry. It'll be worse than before."
The millionaire inventor beamed and rushed to the main doors that led to the hallway. With a flourish, he flung them open.
Spencer was about to follow him out when Howard pivoted and dashed to his bedroom closet. With a cheerful, "This way, Professor," he pushed aside some hanging clothes. Grasping the handle to the hidden passageway, he yanked the door open.
In a hushed whisper, he explained, "I wanted to send those two goons in the wrong direction."
Surprised, Spencer walked inside. Just as Howard shut the closet door behind them, the two agents crashed out of the bathroom and into the now empty bedroom. Flummoxed, they looked around, unsure where their 'guests' had gone.
Racing into the stateroom, one checked the large sliding glass door that led to the balcony, but it was locked from within.
Spying the open door that led to the hallway, the lead agent murmured worriedly, "One of us better let the boss know." They glanced at one another, and neither looked forward to that conversation. Without a thought, both silently pumped their fists up and down three times. The smaller agent won when his "rock" broke the other agent's "scissors."
Grumbling, the larger goon cursed and then got on the ship-wide intercom.
An irate Smith answered, "What is it?"
Scared, the agent tried to keep the stutter from his voice, "Sorry, sir, Stark, and the Professor are gone."
Smith growled through clenched teeth, "Then find them."
The agent chirped back quickly, "Yes, sir!"
Sheepishly looking at his partner, the smaller agent mentioned innocently, "You know, I bet he went down to that pool. That's what rich people do when they are stressed out, right?"
Seeing where he was going with this, the larger man nodded amicably, "Yeah, and I bet they also grab some lunch when they get hungry, too."
Grinning, the other replied, "So it's a good thing the kitchen isn't too far from that pool."
Decision made, the two left towards the lower decks.
Creeping along the exterior lower deck walkway, Peggy was relieved that they were almost to the rear stairs.
She glanced out to sea and was surprised that the Russian's boat was gone. Frowning, she hoped they had moved it out of sight. She doubted they had ditched her and Jarvis, but the thought did nag at the back of her mind about their trustworthiness.
As they passed one of the outdoor closets, loud, angry yells suddenly came from inside. Before they could hurry away, an outraged Gilmore Hodge burst through, splintering the door off its hinges. Seething, he spun around and spied Peggy and Jarvis, who looked at him in bewilderment.
Focusing on Peggy, Hodge breathed out an enthused, "You're alive." The man grinned happily. He always did like bringing on the hurt, and he owed Peggy a thumping. "I'm gonna enjoy this, your highness."
Raising her fists, Peggy was relieved that the braggart was too intent on keeping all the fun to himself than alerting his colleagues that they were now on board. As she pushed Jarvis ahead of her, she ordered, "Go find Howard."
Jarvis shook his head, "I am not going to leave you alone with that brute."
Peggy was about to respond when Hodge growled and charged. Before she could react, he tackled her. Flying backward, her back slammed hard onto the wooden floor. The impact was so unexpected and severe that all her breath whooshed out. She groaned in pain as her previous injuries flared back up.
Music to his ears, Hodge grinned at the noise she made and planned to make it louder. Lowering to his knees, he then raised his fist to punch Peggy's sore ribs.
Suddenly, Jarvis shoved a life preserver down over the CIA agent's broad shoulders, binding both of his arms tightly to his body.
Enraged, Hodge leaped to his feet and head-butted Jarvis.
Peggy winced when she heard the audible crack. Wheezing from pain, she watched as Jarvis staggered and fell into a seated position on the deck. While he sat there shaking his stunned head, Hodge began to squirm, doing his best to wiggle free of the life preserver's confines.
A tired and sore Peggy struggled to her feet. Grabbing the rail two-handed, she levered herself up and slammed both feet into Hodge's body.
Peeved, the brute hollered as he was pitched over the side. He then landed in the water with a loud splash.
Helping Jarvis to his feet, Peggy said between gasps of air, "Thanks."
Swaying, Jarvis wavered while he focused on the two of her and mumbled, "Anytime, Miss Carter."