Ch.11

Steve had suffered through some mind-numbing, boring tasks in his time. Going to the DMV to get his motorcycle license came to mind. Wading through seventy years of Army regulations and red tape to nullify his death benefits and reinstate his military pension was another. Sitting for hours with an accountant trying to figure out the best way to deal with seventy years of back taxes and compound interest.

But nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to going clothes shopping. It seemed as though Alma needed to replace her entire wardrobe and he was sure that it was partly out of spite that the process took so long. In the end, he offered to give her a lump sum of money so that he could just wait outside on a bench and not have to look at yet another outfit.

Finally, an hour later, Alma emerged from the store with a big Cheshire Cat grin on her face.

"Would you like the change?" she offered, awkwardly digging through her purse as she shifted all of her bags to the other hand.

He shook his head. "Just take it off what I owe you. What's next?"

"We should probably go back to the hotel room. Get our stories down. I'll go pick up a rental car and your documents at seven and then we'll get ready to go to Pavlov's house. The auction starts at nine."

"That's cutting it pretty close," Steve warned. He felt itchy going on a mission he hadn't planned. He realized now that it was the first time he'd actually done it. He knew that undercover work wasn't his area of expertise, but he hated the idea of giving up control of an operation.

"Well, we wouldn't be cutting it so close if you would have just let me go in alone," she shot back.

Steve tensed. It had been years since he had anyone challenge his authority when it came to leading missions and he didn't realize how frustrating it was.

"We've been over this. I'm going with you. End of discussion," he said, forcing himself to remain calm.

"Fine. Let's go," Alma said curtly as they walked towards the metro stop.

00000

"Okay, so this is your first time going in undercover?" Alma asked once they had gotten back to his hotel room.

"Yep," Steve replied.

"Did you get any S.H.I.E.L.D. training on undercover missions?" she asked hopefully.

"Nope."

She sighed. "Alright, then. It seems to me that the best idea is to let me do all of the talking. We'll paint you as the strong, silent type."

"Fine by me," Steve agreed. He knew he just needed to be there, watching out for Alma, making sure the mission went smoothly, providing backup.

"And we go in merely as associates," Alma said.

"Why?" Steve challenged.

"Pavlov's a lech. We'll use my single status as a carrot. If he thinks I'm involved with you, he might balk at hiring us."

"I don't like using you as bait like that," Steve said emphatically.

Alma scoffed. "It's not like this is my first rodeo. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

He clenched his teeth. "This is my mission. I'm paying you. I'm in charge. And I'm telling you that I don't like it. There's got to be another way."

"And I am putting my life in your hands by going on this mission, by going up against this man. I have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide if this goes south. You want a chance to save your friend? To bring him back? This is it. This is how we play it. Or else you do it on your own," she said tightly, not giving an inch.

There was a long moment where they just stared at each other, the anger and frustration between them permeating the room.

"Fine, fine. We'll try it your way," Steve bit out, unhappy, but not able to see any other way around it.

00000

After picking up a rental car that they would need for the next few days, Alma drove to Pablo's store. She saw his father there when she came in and Pablo immediately motioned for her to follow him into the back office.

"¿Tu novia? Pablo's father inquired as Alma passed him, giving his son a wink.

"Claro," Pablo lied, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before ushering Alma into the back room.

"Hola, Pablo," she began once he had closed the door behind him.

"We should probably stick to English, considering . . . .," Pablo said, gesturing behind him.

Alma nodded. His father had no idea of his extracurricular activities, no clue as to where he got all his extra cash. He merely thought his son was very, very good at fixing computers.

"Fine," she replied. "Do you have the packet?" she asked as she handed Pablo an envelope of money she had gotten from Rogers.

"Yep, it's all there. I created a nasty on-line presence, too. Anyone Googling him will find a few arrest records, as well as a couple of other unsavory tidbits," Pablo said with a grin, counting out the cash.

"Great," Alma said as she opened the manila envelope that Pablo had given her and thumbed through its contents. She reared her head back, though, when she saw a second passport and Social Security card.

As she took the extra U.S. passport out, she was surprised to see her own face smiling back at her with the name, Teresa Garza.

"What's this?" Alma asked.

"An opportunity to get away. Go anywhere you want," Pablo said simply.

Alma was impressed by the passport. It was flawless. She looked it over and her hands began to tremble a bit. An escape.

"How much do I owe you?" she asked, mentally calculating how much she could afford. Perhaps Rogers would give her an advance.

"On the house," Pablo said firmly.

"On the house?" Almas asked skeptically, looking over at him with narrowed eyes. Never in her dealings with Pablo had he ever given anything away for free. On the contrary, he had usually driven a fairly hard bargain.

"Free . . . I know what happened. You don't . . . you don't have very many options left. I wanted to make sure that you had an escape route."

Alma looked down at the passport. It meant freedom. It meant being able to go on with her life.

"Thank you," she said firmly, giving Pablo a quick hug and turning to go.

Then another thought wormed itself into her head as walked out the front door of the small shop. She was holding onto her ticket out of there. She could easily leave, go almost anywhere. She had a little money, enough for a plane ticket.

As she stood on the sidewalk, the temptation took hold of her. She could just drop the packet at Roger's hotel and leave. Let him sort out his own mission. Take the rental car straight to the airport. Board the first plane out of the country.

A million scenarios began to play in her head. They were heady, seductive even. A chance to start over, a chance to begin again. Go where no one knew her.

Then, the memory of Sam bleeding on the ground came to her.

Of Rogers catching her when she fell.

Of Rogers fighting the men who had come to take her.

She sighed. She wasn't free. She wouldn't be until she finished what she'd started with Rogers. That needling sense of honor began to hound her, that voice of conscience that she had learned to listen to during her time with S.H.I.E.L.D. Whether she liked it or not, she owed it to Rogers to see the mission through, to help him try to find some information to save his friend.

But once it's over . . . she began to smile.

Once it's over . . . .

I'm in the wind.

Author's Note-

Rough Spanish translation-

Your girlfriend?

Of course.

Hello