Disclaimer: I am not a lawyer and haven't consulted one. Any errors in interpretation are therefore entirely my own.
A knot settled in Tony's stomach and he directed his steps toward the office. Bill had been his head lawyer for years and he'd never heard him sound so solemn. "Is this about the lawsuit?" he asked as the elevator silently ascended.
"The suit has been dismissed, as we anticipated," Bill replied. "However, I would not have called if that was the only news."
Tony arrived at the office and closed the door, then perched on the chair, his coffee cup centered in front of him on the desk. "Stop beating around the bush and get to the point. What's going on?"
He could hear a deep intake of breath at the other end of the line. "You are under federal investigation and your assets have been seized."
His entire body felt suddenly cold and the phone slipped from his nerveless fingers to clatter upon the desk. "Friday, secure office. Route the call through this phone on an encrypted line."
The window tint immediately darkened, and he heard the locking mechanism in the door engage. The feel of the air changed slightly as the ductwork was sealed and the room's independent air filtration system kicked in.
"Mr. Stark?" Bill's voice asked worriedly from the desk speaker phone.
"I'm here, Bill." He rubbed his face with a shaking hand, then sighed and gripped his forehead. His headache was throbbing in time with his heart rate. "Explain this to me. Why am I being investigated?"
"Terrorism," he said flatly.
"What the hell?"
"I have sent you a copy of the documents we received."
"You know I don't care about the legal mumbo jumbo. Give it to me straight."
"The United States government appears to be treating the Sokovia incident as a terrorist attack."
Tony wrapped his hands around his coffee mug to try to warm his fingers. "But that was ages ago and it didn't even happen in this country."
"There is no statute of limitations on terrorism related charges, and our government can pursue the matter because there were American casualties."
He vividly remembered the photo of Charlie Spencer being thrust at him by the young man's grieving mother and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to focus on the matter at hand. A sip of coffee helped a little, though the only thing he was clear about was that he was well and truly fucked. He had publicly accepted responsibility for Ultron soon after it happened, and now the government was using that to turn on him.
No, not the government. Ross. This had his fingerprints all over it, though how he'd gotten other agencies to go along with it was something worth pursuing.
"Is there anything we can do about the investigation?"
"No, sir. It is best to simply provide information as it is requested and monitor the situation."
He was about to reply when Friday interrupted. "Boss, Colonel Rhodes is at the door."
"Friday, tell him I'm not to be disturbed. I'm . . . dealing with a thing." The distraction was just enough that he had to wrack his brain to remember his original question. "This hasn't been made public, has it?"
"No, I don't believe so."
"Friday, have we picked up anything about this in the routine news scanning?"
"No, boss."
"Right. Do we stand to benefit if we make this public before word gets out another way?"
Bill's answer came after a good deal of throat-clearing. "I couldn't say, sir. All I can tell you is that we have not been ordered to keep it confidential."
So he had some wiggle room to draw first blood in the court of public opinion. He carefully digested the news, trying to consider all of the possibilities that could result from a mess of this scale. The headache was definitely slowing down his thought process. "I'll check with some PR folks on that. You also said something about assets?"
"Yes. All of your assets have been seized."
He took a long draw of his coffee, silently pleading with the throbbing in his temples to calm down. "Everything?" he asked faintly.
"I have sent you the itemized list, but it amounts to everything in the U.S. and those accounts located in cooperating countries. You still have a few resources at your disposal."
He turned to the computer and brought up the list, his horror growing as he skimmed it. "How do we fight this?" he demanded.
"We will respond to the rationale provided in the official notice within the allotted time frame. The government will then have the opportunity to counter our arguments before the assets are officially transferred into the government's possession."
It took him a minute to process the implications. "So what you're saying is, until this is settled, I'm almost broke?"
"Ah, would be one way to put it," Bill said cautiously.
"There is property on this list, including my tower and the compound. Are we-do I need to worry about relocating everyone?"
"I don't know, sir. I don't believe so, but we will verify that on your behalf."
"Why is the compound even on this list? I thought ownership would be transferred as soon as the incorporation was done. Is it done?"
"The incorporation of the Avengers was completed, yes, but there were some legal questions about tax status as a result of the Avengers now functioning as an arm of the United Nations. Those issues prevented the transfer of some property before the seizure notice was received."
"But the Avengers' financial accounts are separate? And those haven't been touched?" He knew he was grasping at straws, but he needed something to work with and so far there wasn't much.
"Yes, they are separate. We have contacted the appropriate parties at the U.N. to inquire whether they have received a similar notice. However," he hesitated. "The funds transfer from your accounts to the Avengers' was contracted to occur on a monthly basis. The seizure of your accounts will prevent those scheduled transactions from moving forward."
"And funding from the U.N. hasn't been finalized, not that it would ever be enough," Tony groaned. "Whatever we have is all we've got until this is dealt with."
"I believe that assessment is accurate. We will verify it with our U.N. contact."
It wasn't like Bill not to have all the answers to his questions. He almost hated to ask more, but he needed to know. "What about the equipment, vehicles, all of that? They're not on the list, so they're in the clear?"
"Ownership was transferred to the Avengers for everything except the land and buildings."
Good to know they wouldn't get in trouble for using their gear on the mission. He felt dazed. "Is that all? There are no more shoes waiting to drop?"
"That is all at this point in time, Mr. Stark. Whether the government plans to throw more shoes, I couldn't say."
He huffed a brief chuckle. Bill could be a funny guy when he wasn't so freaked out. And this definitely had him freaked out, which was saying something. "Be honest with me: how do you think it looks?"
"I am reasonably certain that your assets will be released eventually, unless there are reasons for forfeiture that the government hasn't yet revealed. The investigation . . . it is not clear to me why they are pursuing this line of inquiry at this time."
"Do what you can and keep me informed." He ended the call and let his head hang forward. This . . . this was a shitstorm, pure and simple, and he was almost certain he had Ross to thank for it.
He dug through the drawers of the desk until he found a tablet and stylus. "Friday, wipe this thing, then encrypt it, install just the basics, and disconnect it from the network. What I put on it should never hit the server."
While waiting for the process to complete, he drank the rest of his coffee and contemplated what he needed to do, what he needed to know, who he needed to talk to. As soon as the tablet was ready, he began scribbling notes so he wouldn't overlook something. He'd completely forgotten to ask Bill about Stark Industries and whether the company was safe from persecution; that he'd forgotten was a serious oversight, even with his headache. He was determined not to let anything else slip, not when it was up to him to protect the others from Ross and his shenanigans.
His first call was to Maria Hill, who sounded harried, and there were other voices in the background. "This is Hill."
"I need to talk to you. Call me from your office. Alone. It's urgent," he said shortly, then hung up.
Within sixty seconds, her image appeared on his screen.
"I don't understand the obsession with video calling," he griped as he reluctantly activated his own camera. "You and Fury both. Why can't you appreciate a good old disembodied phone call?"
He could tell when she could see him-her cheek twitched as she took in his disheveled state.
"Yeah, I know, I'm a hot mess. I barely slept and now I'm living a nightmare. Friday, secure her office."
Hill looked exasperated as the room behind her darkened. "I can do that myself, you know."
"Yes, but you didn't. The things we discuss are not to be shared with anyone, not even that minion who gets your coffee."
She might have rolled her eyes. "His name is Nick."
"I don't care if that's followed by Fury, what I tell you doesn't go beyond you. Got it?"
"I worked for the most secret spy organization on the planet, I'm fairly sure I can manage to keep your issues to myself."
He chose not to comment. "There are several reasons I need to talk to you, so let's get this over with. First, when was the last evacuation drill and how did they do?"
He would bet whatever money he had left that she wanted to know why he was asking, but she was too well trained to ask. "The last personnel evacuation was ten days ago, and it took under an hour to clear the compound."
"Has there ever been a drill for a full evacuation? Equipment, vehicles, the whole nine yards?"
"No, there has never been an Abandon Ship drill performed at the compound."
"Put one on the schedule within the week. I need to know how long it takes."
She nodded smartly. "Consider it done."
"Second. Ages ago we discussed reaching out to the persons of interest that we've been monitoring. Don't. Maintain radio silence and do not interfere. Also, that intel needs to be restricted for the foreseeable future. Your eyes only." It may or may not prove necessary, but if he and possibly the Avengers were being targeted, he wanted to make that target as small as possible.
"Yes, sir."
He had to glance down at his notes. "Third. How's the retrofit coming?" A glaring omission from the list of seized property had been the sole remaining helicarrier, probably because it was registered as belonging to Fury rather than him. He would not hesitate to take advantage of that oversight if needed.
"Three of the four engines have been completely replaced and the fourth is halfway finished. She's airworthy, as long as nothing takes out the new engines."
"Good. We may need to activate Plan H."
For the first time, Hill allowed her concern to show on her face. "What's going on?"
He held up a finger to forestall her question. "Fourth, does Fury still have eyes and ears in Washington? I need someone to make discreet inquiries about who is conducting an investigation and why."
"He'll need to know which investigation."
He stared at her for a long minute. "Consider that it's me asking and put two and two together," he said finally.
"Deadline?"
"ASAP."
"I'll see what can be done."
"Fifth. Do me a favor and don't pay any bills, no matter the amount, until I say otherwise. If there's anything that absolutely must be paid, let me know and I'll . . . figure something out."
"Paychecks?" she asked somberly.
Oh, god, he hadn't connected that dot. He stared down at his list rather than look at her as he said softly, "Suspended until this is straightened out. I . . . tell them I'm sorry."
"At least they don't have to worry about rent," she said lightly.
"Assuming I can keep the roof over their heads," he countered bitterly. "Figure out what we'd need to stock if the whole lot has to relocate to the helicarrier. Send me the list and approximate cost."
"Is there anything else?" she asked gently when he didn't say any more.
"Don't spread the word about the pay until I say so. I'm hoping that part will blow over before it's an issue."
"Of course."
He nodded once and ended the call, then massaged the spot on his forehead that spiked with pain when he nodded. Just when he thought it was bad, he found out it was worse. He'd always prided himself on paying people well for what they did, and now he was prevented from doing even that.
Friday interrupted his moment of self-pity. "Boss, Colonel Rhodes and Wanda Maximoff have left items outside the office."
He slowly rose from the chair and went to the door. The locks thudded open as he approached and he swung the door open warily. The items in question were two bottles of water, an insulated tumbler, and a thermos.
He collected the loot gingerly-it hurt his head to bend over-and retreated back into the office, closing the door and hearing it seal itself behind him. The thermos held coffee and the tumbler was a smoothie and of course they would provide some sort of sustenance.
He called the accountants while nursing the smoothie. That conversation was relatively painless, mostly just him demanding to be sent a current list of all his accounts and their balances. The accountants had already gotten a call from the lawyers, so they were able to provide him with both the full list and the list of accounts that still remained available for use.
It was a depressingly short list. Adding everything together, he was still a millionaire and had more money than some could even dream of, but it was far short of his actual worth and wasn't likely to last long with the number of people he was currently responsible for.
He poured the first cup of coffee as he called Bill to ask about the impact of the situation on Stark Industries.
"There is minimal risk to the company from a legal perspective," the lawyer assured him.
"What about the other perspectives?" he asked warily.
"It would be prudent to inform the board of the situation as soon as is practical, so they are prepared for the likely devaluation of company stock when the news is made public. Also, am I correct that you remain, er, romantically entangled with Ms. Potts?"
He couldn't help but snort at the way Bill phrased it. "Yes, we are 'romantically entangled'. Why?"
"An investigation of your activities may involve Ms. Potts on a personal level, which may or may not result in scrutiny of the company itself. It is difficult to predict and depends on what they are investigating."
There wasn't enough coffee in the world to even begin dealing with this can of worms. "Please communicate to the board the information you find relevant to the company's interests and tell them I am happy to attend an emergency meeting as long as it takes place, um, Wednesday or later. I'll want you in on that meeting, too."
"They will wish to meet before such information is made public," Bill objected.
"I do not intend for this information to be public any earlier than Wednesday," he snapped.
"As you wish, Mr. Stark."
That call taken care of, he put his face in his hands and considered the wrinkle named Pepper. No matter how he looked at it, there seemed to be only one thing he could do. And then there was the PR angle to consider. "Friday, tell Mel to report to me immediately and let her in when she arrives."
It shouldn't have been difficult to make the next call, but it took him three tries to enter all of the numbers. The door swung open to admit Mel just as the ringing began.
Pepper picked up on the fourth ring. "Who is this? How did you get this number?"
"Hey Pep," he said, motioning for Mel to remain quiet. "I have a quick question for you."
"Okay?"
"Would you rather be my CEO or my girlfriend?"
"What kind of a question is that?"
"One I need the answer to. Your choice, CEO or girlfriend."
"What do you mean? Tony, what's going on?" She sounded confused but not yet angry.
"I can't explain right now, but I promise I will as soon as I can. Now pick one."
She sighed deeply, one of her Tony-what-have-you-done sighs. "CEO."
"Good. The last thing I need right now is to find a new CEO." He picked up the handset and let it drop back into the cradle, ending the call. His cell phone began vibrating almost immediately; he swept it into the top drawer and slammed the drawer shut.
Mel was gaping at him from just inside the door. "What the hell was that?"
He poured another cup of coffee from the thermos as he replied wearily, "Something that needed to be done."
"But-"
He set the thermos down on the desk a little harder than necessary. "I called you here because I need you to do your job, not question my decisions about my personal life," he said forcefully, then sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sit down, this will take a while."
Mel obeyed silently, wide-eyed. When she was seated facing him across the desk, he said, "You worked for Roxxon, so you've had to deal with sharing bad news. Yes?"
"Yes, sir," she said uncertainly.
"Good. I'm about to dump a truckload on you that you will not be sharing with anyone." He briefly outlined the situation and what he had been thinking in terms of what information to release when.
Mel took frantic notes and did not speak until he'd finished. "So if I'm hearing this right, you want to leak the news about your breakup with Ms. Potts while we nail down the press release about the investigation and also draft a different press release in case the information comes out before you announce it," she summarized.
"Yep, that about covers it."
She studied her notes, then looked at him askance. "Why the delay? Why not announce the investigation immediately?"
He fidgeted with his coffee cup, then drank the last gulp and busied himself with pouring more. "Because the others are leaving on a mission tomorrow and they don't need the distraction." There was only a small amount of coffee left when his cup was full, so he drank it straight from the thermos. When he finished, Mel was frowning at him.
"You're going to hide this from your team?"
"For now. They don't need something like this hanging over them, especially since they're not directly involved." And because the outcome of the mission was uncertain as it was, no distraction required.
She sighed and shook her head, but turned her gaze back to her scribbled notes. "Are you sure you want your relationship with Ms. Potts to be the focus of attention? It doesn't seem necessary to make that public, and putting yourself in the spotlight might encourage someone to up the ante by leaking the investigation."
That . . . was a good point. His headache was really messing with his ability to anticipate all of the possibilities. "You win. Monitor the media closely. If there's even a hint about the investigation, you can leak the breakup with Pepper as a distraction."
She nodded and made a note. "I hesitate to suggest this, knowing your tendency to go off-script, but if we're the ones to make the investigation public, it would be most effective to do so in a press conference. We'd still need a press release, but that's secondary."
He'd been mulling over a notion of bringing Christine Everhart into the mix at some point, but Mel was right. A press conference would be more effective and more efficient. "I like it, but we can't do it here, that would put the Avengers into the spotlight and I want all the heat on me."
"Your tower in the city?"
"I don't know if I'm allowed in."
"In front of the building?"
"That could be difficult to secure, but it's probably the best we can do. Start making arrangements. I'd like to do it Wednesday afternoon sometime, but we may have to push it back to Thursday."
"All right, so I need to draft the press release, compose a backup press release, sketch out your remarks for the press conference, make the arrangements for the press conference, and leak the Ms. Potts news if there's any hint of the investigation mentioned in the media."
He ticked each thing off his own notes as she listed them. "Sounds like a plan."
She took a deep breath and gathered up her pens and notepad. "Right. I'll get started on that and send you the drafts as I write them."
"Thank you," he said earnestly.
"Good luck."
After she left, he crossed his arms on the desk and buried his face in the crook of his left elbow. He focused on his breathing, in through the nose and out through the mouth-it was something Bruce had shown him what felt like eons ago-and gradually felt the tension in his shoulders fade just the slightest bit.
That is, until his mind returned to his predicament and all the things he still needed to do about it, to say nothing of whatever else he was supposed to do before the mission. He needed time, but the clock ticked inexorably onward and the seconds slipped away. It was already past dinnertime, somehow, which meant he'd been holed up in the office for hours dealing with this mess and it was far from being resolved.
He sat up, squared his shoulders, and returned to his list. He had set just about everything into motion, the rest needed to wait on something or someone other than him, so he checked his messages for the first time that day.
Fortunately, there was nothing explosive lurking there, just a reminder from Dr. Mann about his tests the next day and a note from Rhodey about the field test with the scanning software earlier that afternoon. It mostly seemed to do what they wanted it to do, though there were some apparent glitches in the process and if he had a chance to take a look, that would be great, but no pressure. And P.S. Is everything okay?
Tony chuckled darkly and closed the message without responding. It took him a minute to try to remember what he needed to do for them before the mission. He checked on the satellite scans of the target area and sent Rhodey instructions for accessing them directly. He made a note to retrieve the empty drive he'd prepared and leave it for Rhodey somewhere so they would have a backup method in case Vision couldn't make it work.
That finished, he immersed himself in the code for the scanning program again, looking for the source of the behavior they'd noticed in the field test. He was able to compartmentalize the headache while he worked, still aware of it but as if from a distance, which was just as well because it took hours to merely find the source of the problem. Fixing it took even longer.
When he'd taken it through its paces as well as he could on the test server, he loaded the new version onto the quinjet and double-checked that everything transferred smoothly. Then he was done and he sat back in the chair feeling wrung out and yet wired. And also thirsty.
He stood and stretched and ventured out of the office for the first time in over twelve hours. The hallways were dark and deserted-as they should be at that late (early) hour-so he didn't have to worry about running into people who would ask awkward questions. Unless Vision was lurking somewhere nearby. He really hoped that wouldn't be the case.
Luck was with him for what seemed like the first time all day: he didn't run into anyone on his way to the kitchen. He drank two glasses of water without even pausing, but when he opened the refrigerator door to consider whether to eat something, Friday spoke. "Food and drink are not advisable until after your appointment at the hospital, boss."
Right, that. He sighed and let the door swing closed. He wasn't hungry anyway.
It's easy to get lost down a black hole when trying to figure out the implications of terrorism-related law as applied within the Marvel universe. These are some of the laws and ideas I'm using as the basis of this plot development:
- 18 U.S. Code § 2339A - Providing material support to terrorists
- 18 U.S. Code § 2332a - Use of weapons of mass destruction
- 18 U.S. Code § 981 - Civil forfeiture
- 18 U.S. Code § 983: General rules for civil forfeiture proceedings
- Federal Rules of Civil Procedure, Title III, Rule 12
- Law, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Terrorism (book, online)
The "persons of interest" Tony mentions to Hill are the characters in the Marvel movies and TV shows that either haven't been seen in the movies (e.g. Luke Cage) or haven't been made official Avengers (e.g. Spider-Man).