Prior to storming the boat, Jack and Peggy retraced their steps through the tunnels and made their way back to Stark's vault; they had nothing with which to undo the heavy screws on the flood-gate and both agreed that it would be better to drive to the docks, not knowing what they would find there.
Carter whistled sharply once they were staring up into the vault and, after a few seconds of silence, Stark's butler's face appeared over the edge. "Ah, you're back," he said in his fussy, posh voice. They re-clipped the harnesses that they were still wearing to the dangling ropes and Jarvis used the pulley system they had erected to haul them up and out of the tunnels. "Did you find anything?" the butler asked, dusting off his hands as they unclipped themselves once more.
"A possible lead," Peggy replied, clearly being vague on purpose. "You?"
Jarvis shuffled a sheaf of papers in his hands. "I haven't yet made much headway through the list, I did warn you it would be extensive, though I did find this," he said, handing her a single sheet with a flourish. "I thought it might be of use to you."
"What is it?" Jack asked, frowning as Peggy took the paper to examine it.
"An inventory of the stolen weapons," Jarvis explained simply. "Everything that was in the vault at the time of the break in -"
"Get Howard on the phone," Peggy interrupted sharply, still staring down at the paper.
Jarvis blinked, frowning in obvious confusion at her sudden demand. "Miss Carter -"
"Now," she ordered in a tone that brooked no refusal, her eyes flinty as she raised her penetrating gaze to the butler. "I need to talk to him."
Jack's scowl had deepened at the interaction. "What's wrong?" he wanted to know, looking between the two of them.
"I'm afraid Mr Stark is hunting the weapons already sold overseas," the butler said, clearly a little flustered by her demand. "While I do have a contact number, the likelihood of him picking up -"
"Do it," she commanded, her voice firm.
Jarvis hesitated, then nodded once. "Very well, follow me," he capitulated, gesturing for them to follow him. They headed out of the basement, back towards the foyer, where there was a telephone on a small table. The butler glanced at them once more, then proceeded to pick up the phone and dial a number, his body turned slightly to one side for privacy.
"Carter, what's wrong?" Jack asked impatiently as the silence stretched on, but Peggy shook her head minutely at him, indicating that he should wait.
Eventually, Jarvis turned back to them, the phone still held to his ear. "I'm afraid that there is no answer," he said, sounding genuinely apologetic.
In response, Peggy held the paper up in one hand. "Why does Howard have the Tesseract?" she demanded simply, her voice cold.
Jarvis hesitated, then slowly lowered the ornate phone to place it back in its cradle. "... Item four was fished out of the ocean when Mr Stark was tracking the wreckage of the Valkyrie," he explained softly. "As I understand it, the Tesseract is the item that he is currently seeking abroad."
"I'm sorry, the Tesseract?" Jack questioned dryly, not quite following the conversation – he knew that the Valkyrie was the name of the HYDRA vessel that had gone down with Captain Rogers, but he had never heard of a Tesseract before.
"Mr Stark believes that the Tesseract is a vessel containing potentially limitless energy," Jarvis explained smoothly. "Norse legend tells that it was left on earth by the gods, before it was claimed by Johann Shmidt during the war."
"It was HYDRA's secret weapon," Peggy added, still looking like she had swallowed a lemon. "The source of their power."
"So the gods left a source of ultimate power on earth," Jack surmised sardonically, shoving his hands deep in his pockets and scowling slightly, unconvinced. "Sure, why not?"
"Did you ever face any of the HYDRA weapons in the war, Thompson?" Peggy snapped at him. "They fired beams of pure energy capable of disintegrating a person, leaving nothing more than a dog tag behind, and that was only scratching the surface of what the Tesseract is capable of," she told him direly – and he suddenly froze as her words struck a cord with him. He had served in Germany for several months before jumping on a chance to transfer to Japan after being trapped behind enemy lines in a blizzard; while he had never personally gone up against any of the HYDRA weapons, his fellow soldiers told chilling stories about the 'blue devils,' as the weapons were dubbed, that had slain so many of their comrades. "God only knows what could be unleashed if it was weaponised again; trust me when I say that the fact that this item is missing is colossally dangerous," she added, shaking her head slightly.
She then turned back to Mr Jarvis, her chin raised and the set of his shoulders determined. "Get Howard, get him back in the country," she ordered firmly, glancing at Jack once more. "Finding this weapon is our top priority."
And with that, she turned on her heel and headed out of the front door, into the late morning sunshine. Jack trailed in her wake, noting the mud splatters from the muddy tunnel that decorated the backs of her stockings.
"I want to see him," Jack said firmly as they walked towards his car, which was still parked up on the driveway; Peggy glanced at him. "Stark," he clarified, biting out the name out of habit "When Stark is back in the country, I'm gonna want to see him."
She had the audacity to shake her head at his demand. "I'm not sure that's the best idea," she told him, opening the passenger side door.
He quickly reached past her to slam it shut before she could make a move to get in; she turned to him in surprise, finding her back against the car and Jack dangerously close to looming over her. "I am giving you a long leash here, Carter," he reminded her sternly. "You've made some good calls and I think you're on to something … But don't forget that I am calling the shots here - you will meet me halfway or I'll go to Dooley," he said, giving her an ultimatum.
Her jaw was clenched, looking like she was biting her tongue. "Well," she said tightly. "I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."
Thompson parked up the car just in sight of the boat and the two of them had watched for nearly half an hour, waiting for any activity, but thus far had seen nothing. Jack was getting visibly fidgety, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he stared out of the front window. "Nothing," he said eventually, not breaking his gaze and speaking for the first time in a while.
"She's still connected to the electrics, so someone is using her," Peggy pointed out, checking that her gun was loaded and clicking off the safety.
Jack quickly got out of the car, clearly eager to scope the boat. "Let's see who's home," he suggested, pulling his own weapon from his holster.
They both crept up the narrow gangway, their eyes questing from side to side for any hint of movement, and made their way up onto the Heartbreaker. By wordless signal, they quickly split up; Thompson slunk around the outer deck, whereas Peggy ducked inside.
Still there was nothing, with no sign of any inhabitants on the boat. Peggy was starting to think it was a dead-end until she saw the ladder leading down to the lower level. It was a large, barren storeroom in the hull of the boat, empty except for a stack of crates haphazardly covered with thick, netted rope to keep them all together. Keeping her gun in hand, she pulled off the rope and grinned when she saw Howard's name on the sides of the crates.
"Thompson," she called loudly, confident now that she ship was empty since she had encountered no security whatsoever around the crates. As she waited for him, she used a small pocket knife to ease the first crate open. The lid lifted with a audible creak and a glowing green, metal device was safely ensconced within.
She heard footsteps on the ladder behind her. "We're in luck – Oh," she said, turning around and instantly cutting herself off as the smile died on her lips. It wasn't Jack, rather it was an alarmingly large, hulking man wearing just an under-shirt and dark trousers, with an unmistakable whiff of vodka about him and a small gun pointed straight at her. "Thought you were someone else."
"Brannis told me one of you would be coming," he said, slurring his words ever so slightly.
Peggy raised a brow, using one finger to check that the safety was still off her gun without actually raising the weapon – she didn't want to startle the man into firing when he was aimed straight at her. "One of me?" she asked, genuinely curious as to what he meant.
"You know, I ain't afraid to kill a woman," the man said, stepping even closer and half waving the gun in a threatening manner.
"I won't make it easy," she warned him, suddenly wondering if he had already managed to take out Thompson, though she hadn't heard a gunshot.
"Yeah, he said you'd say that too," the man told her, then pulled the trigger.
Peggy had seen the movement of his hand and threw herself to one side, causing the man's bullet to go wide and miss her by a wide margin. She raised her own gun before he could fire again, sending an expert shot into his leg; he was both a witness and a suspect and she wanted him alive to question him.
He collapsed to one knee and made to shoot at her again, but she was able to lunge forwards to grab his arm, causing the bullet to ricochet off the floor. He used his weight to shake her loose, knocking her gun out of her hand in the process, but she was too close for him to easily use his own weapon, attacking him with quick, scrappy punches. Aware that he still had his gun, she grabbed his arm once again and twisted it painfully until he dropped the weapon with a clatter – only to send a wild haymaker with his left hand towards her, catching her across the cheek with bruising force. She stumbled back, though despite the blow she didn't release her grip on his arm -
Another gunshot rang out.
The man froze, going rigid in pain, then slowly collapsed face first onto the floor with a lurid red stain spreading over the dirty white material on the back of his shirt. He was still breathing, but probably not for much longer.
Peggy's eyes shot upwards, finding Thompson half way down the ladder – his body was twisted to get a clear shot, holding on to the rungs with one hand with his gun still pointed at the man. "I had him!" she said furiously, tossing her hair out of her face, unable to believe he had used lethal force when she'd had the situation well in hand.
"Didn't look that way to me," he said unrepentantly, descending the rest of the way down the ladder. His eyes zeroed in on her jaw, which was no doubt starting to redden from the blow she had just taken. "You alright?" he asked, jerking his chin at her.
"Fine," she muttered in reply, before squatting down next to the man and turning him over. His breathing was laboured, though most of the fight seemed to have gone out of him – he didn't have much longer left, if they were going to question him it had to be now. "What did you mean, one of me?" she demanded, holding the material of his shirt in one fist. "Who did Brannis tell you was coming?"
The man didn't reply, gasping for breath and weakly trying to fight her off. Grimly setting her jaw, she applied pressure to the wound she had inflicted on his leg, knowing it would hurt him. "Who did Brannis say was coming?" she demanded once again, her voice iron.
The man coughed. "Female assassins," he said, blood bubbling up in his mouth. "Leviathan -"
And then the man went slack.
Peggy released her grip on the man's shirt and slowly rose to her feet, still staring down at him. "Female assassins?" Thompson repeated with a deep crease in his brow, having been watching the brief interrogation from one side. He handed her the handkerchief from his breast pocket, nodding down at the bloodstain on her hands.
"Makes sense," she said, keeping her voice calm and composed as she wiped off the blood. "Howard is a notorious womaniser, it is a logical way to slip past his defences."
Thompson wordlessly picked up her gun, holding it out to her grip first. "Thanks," she muttered, taking it from him; she knew that she'd had the fight under control despite the man's bulk, but she was aware that it would not have looked that way since she had lost her weapon.
"You're welcome," he replied, almost condescendingly. He walked passed her, heading for the crates she had uncovered earlier. His long fingers swept briefly over Stark's name emblazoned on the side of the crate she had already opened, then he hefted the lid off another, tearing the nails free from the wood.
Peggy joined him and they both stared down at the weapons, with Thompson holding the lid open with one hand. "Well," he said simply, sounding satisfied. "That's the promotion in the bag."
He made to reach for the item he had just uncovered (a small, round metal device with a single button) but Peggy grabbed his wrist to stop him. "I wouldn't," she warned him. "Howard's creativity knows no bounds."
Jack nodded his understanding, then let the lid of the crate fall closed once more. "Start cataloguing what's here against the inventory, I'm gonna call this in," he said, vanishing up the ladder before she could reply.
Daniel Sousa was sat at his desk, frowning as he looked over a file that had just arrived from the Bureau of Identification. The file pertained to the blonde in Raymond's club, but they regretted to tell him that they hadn't found any matches to fingerprints in the criminal files.
Reaching for a fresh sheet of paper, he shifted his wheeled office chair over to the left so that he was in front of his typewriter. He fed the paper into the machine and frowned as he slowly started to tap out a letter to the Bureau, asking them to expand their search to the civilian and army files they held as well.
Chief Dooley burst out of his office, the door banging on the hinges. "Sousa, Krezminsky, Li, get a couple-a trucks and follow me down to the docks, double time," he ordered them hurriedly.
Ray grimaced around his mouthful of club sandwich. "I just went on lunch," he complained loudly, spraying crumbs.
Dooley looked less than impressed. "Yeah, and while you've been stuffing your face, Thompson just found the Stark weapons," he said simply, his tone cutting. Silence rang around the bullpen in the wake of his words. The Chief clapped his hands impatiently to get them all moving. "I said double time!" he repeated, clearly impatient as he headed towards the elevator.
Krezminsky threw his half eaten sandwich down onto his desk. "Dammit, that cocky son of a bitch is gonna be insufferable," he muttered, grabbing his jacket.
Daniel privately agreed, hefting his crutch to follow the other Agents out and leaving the letter only half-written on his desk.
Jack returned from calling their find in using a payphone over the street, heading over to where Peggy was standing with her back to him as she worked on the inventory. "I assume the cavalry is on its way," she said in a cool, neutral voice, no doubt hearing his approach.
"As we speak," he confirmed, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. Dooley had been sceptical on the phone when Jack had announced that he had found the Stark weapons, grumpily telling him to 'pull the other one, Thompson,' but had then realised that he wasn't being tricked and promised reinforcements as soon as possible. "Any sign of the Tesseract?" he asked, looking over her shoulder into one of the crates.
"No," she replied, sighing slightly in annoyance at the fact. She indicated the inventory that she held and nodded her head towards the cache. "It appears that we have recovered just over two thirds of the missing weapons," she told him plainly, actually sounding disappointed.
Jack shrugged a little. "That's still two thirds more than we had this morning, so Chief'll be pleased," he reminded her; he knew that they needed to find the rest, particularly this Tesseract that she kept harping on about, but this find was still a major win for them.
Peggy took a breath, then turned towards him, her face expressionless. "I suggest we get this behind SSR walls as soon as possible," she said, her tone still slightly off. "Demidov can't have been the only clean-up crew Leviathan sent and we weren't exactly surreptitious in finding these."
He frowned at her, recognising that something was unusual about her bearing. "What's wrong?" he wanted to know, since she was acting strange.
"Nothing," she said, making to turn back to the crates.
"Hey," he insisted, catching her upper arm and keeping her facing him.
She sighed slightly once again. "I'm not sure how easily I can stomach you being slapped on the back for this find," she said, a hint of bitterness in her voice. "It feels like I did all the leg work and then you claimed the credit." She shook her head slightly, her red lips pressed into a narrow line. "Knowing Dooley, you probably will actually get a promotion out of this and I'll be sent straight back to lunches."
He slowly released her arm, recognising the truth in her words. "You don't strike me as the glory type," he said honestly, not quite addressing the problem.
"I am not interested in the glory, but respect from my co-workers would not go amiss," she told him sincerely – and there it was, the crux of the matter. She was a woman and she knew damn well that none of them saw her as an equal.
"I respect you," he said slowly, the words tasting slightly of lies in his mouth, then he shrugged awkwardly, grimacing. "A bit," he added, making the statement more truthful – she had impressed him so far on this case, after all.
She looked less than convinced and his grimace deepened to a frown as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "Look, you said I don't know how post-war espionage works, but you haven't yet realised how post-war society is working, Sweetheart," he said, not realising until it was too late that he was probably digging himself into a deeper hole. "Women helped out in the war while men were fighting – factories, nurses, even Agents." He shrugged slightly, tilting his head towards her. "But now the men are back and the women need to remember their place - wives, mothers, secretaries," he told her bluntly, then dug his hands into his pockets once more. "It's sad, but it's the way the world works."
Peggy appeared to be absolutely disgusted with him. "You're unbelievable," she said, making to turn dismissively back to the crates that she was working on.
Jack grabbed her arm once more, making her shoot a caustic look at him. "So you gotta realise that if you want even a glimpse at more of the field work, you gotta play by my rules," he finished, knowing that Carter wasn't one to slot into what society wanted.
"Forgive me for wanting to succeed on my own merit," she said acerbically.
He shrugged slightly, maintaining his grip on her arm. "It's a greasy pole, kid," he reminded her. "Sometimes you gotta climb over other people to get to the top."
"Let go of me," she ordered, looking for all the world like she would take him off her if he didn't comply.
Releasing her, he rubbed the back of his head once more. "Look, I'll make you a deal," he offered simply. "There's no changing the way the world works, but fact remains that you and I make a good team – we did find the weapons, after all. You can try as hard as you like on your own, but you know damn well that no one will listen and you will never get past that glass ceiling that holds you back." He raised a brow at her. "But if we work together … well, you help me get to the top, and once I'm there I'll pull you up right alongside me," he promised.
She blinked and looked surprised at his words. "You're proposing that we become partners? Properly?" she wanted to know, her mouth turned down into a faint frown. He could understand her surprise – it was one thing for him to ask Dooley if he could bring their little piece of office skirt along on a case, it was quite another for them to officially work together.
He tilted his head slightly with an arrogant air in confirmation. "We found some of the weapons, but the case isn't closed yet," he reminded her. "We still need to find the Tesseract."
Peggy looked like she was thinking hard for a long moment – her principals of wanting to succeed on her own no doubt coming into conflict with the desire to do proper case work – then she stepped towards him so that they were practically nose to nose, jabbing a finger in the centre of his chest. "If we do this then you need to stop with the male posturing and insisting on calling the shots," she insisted. "You're asking for my help so you cannot act as if I am incompetent and my opinion doesn't matter - partners means equals," she finished, her eyes blazing.
They heard the sound of sirens approaching in the distance, no doubt the SSR.
Jack glanced at the ladder that led down to the storeroom they were in, then back at her; he wordlessly nodded once, indicating his agreement.
There was a flurry of activity going on around the boat. Two SSR vans had pulled up next to Jack's car, along with an ambulance that was taking the corpse of the man who had attacked Peggy to the SSR mortuary for examination. The weapons were in the process of being loaded up in the trucks and Chief Dooley was standing in front of Jack and Peggy, questioning them about the day's proceedings.
"Mr Jarvis was eager to show us the vault," Jack reported "We found a hole in the floor leading down to the sewers and the digging clearly started from the bottom up, which suggests that Stark wasn't involved," he said, which made the Chief frown deeply. He then tilted his head at Peggy, his arms folded over his chest. "Carter was the one to suggest that the storm water might have been used, so we simply followed the tunnels." He sharply rapped a knuckle on one of the remaining crates. "What we've got here, just over two thirds of the missing weapons," he told the older man. "We already know that the Nitramine hit the New York market, but there are others still out there."
Dooley rubbed one hand over the lower half of his face. "What are you saying, Thompson?" he asked plainly.
Jack glanced at Peggy before replying. "I'm saying it wouldn't hurt to look at this from a new angle," he said slowly, aware of the risk he was taking in going a different direction to the SSR's current investigation. "Instead of a witch-hunt for Stark we should look at who broke into the vault, who they're working for, and why." He shrugged and dug his hands into his pockets. "If Stark is on that same trail, then it might be that's how we find him too," he added, knowing it would go part of the way to appeasing the Chief.
"Strikes me as a little convenient that you go to question the staff and they merrily send you down some tunnels to find the goods," Dooley said, sounding unconvinced. "They must know where their boss is."
"Mr Jarvis believes that Mr Stark has gone overseas to track the missing weapons," Peggy put in, her voice calm and composed as she stood with one ankle crossed behind the other. "He was not able to reach him by phone when we asked."
Dooley grimaced. "What about Roxxon?" he wanted to know, grasping at straws.
Jack and Peggy glanced at each other once again. "Sousa was right in saying that Stark's got no motive to blow it up -" he started to say
"We got his numberplate at the scene!" the Chief reminded him, spreading his hands slightly in exasperation.
"The car was reported stolen several days ago," Peggy said simply.
"Well, that's suspicious," Dooley said instantly – then saw Jack's answering frown. "What, Thompson?" he wanted to know, sounding irked with the pair of them.
"Seems to me that the best way to implicate Stark would be to have his vehicle at the crime scene," Jack said, then shrugged slightly. "If you ask me, it's a set up."
"... You really believe that?" the Chief asked, his heavily lined brow more furrowed than usual. Jack glanced at Peggy and nodded. Dooley looked like he was chewing the inside of his cheek, his jaw set into a tense line, then he nodded once. "I'm not saying I believe you or Stark's innocence, but I trust your gut." He pointed between the two of them. "Carter, you can help Thompson work on this new angle, find the rest of the weapons."
Later in the evening, back at the Griffith, Peggy was attempting to wash the mud splatters out of her stockings in her small sink when there was a loud knocking on the door. Leaving her clothing to soak, she went to answer it – Angie stormed right in the second the door was open. "An eight hour shift and all I get is a whole fifty cents in tips! The war's over, I thought we were spending money again," she said irately as she gracelessly threw herself down on Peggy's bed. She shook her head and looked openly up at her, her eyes wide. "How was your day?"
Peggy blinked bemusedly, somewhat taken aback by the Italian waitress who had just burst in to her room. "Considerably better, actually," she admitted, closing the door behind her and smiling at her friend.
"Yeah?" Angie questioned brightly, looking happy for her as she kicked off her shoes and wiggled her no doubt aching feet, evidently eager to hear the news.
Peggy hesitated, then perched on the edge of the bed with Angie. "Do you remember when I said that with my work I always connect the calls, I never make them?" she asked.
Angie beamed. "Someone give you a shot making a call, English?" she guessed happily.
"In a manner of speaking," Peggy confirmed with a smile – working with Thompson wasn't going to be ideal, but if it meant that she was on cases instead of coffee-runs and lunch orders then she would take it. She had been telling the truth when she had said that she wanted to succeed on her own merit, but this was a chance to show the men at the SSR what she was capable of.
"That's great, Peg!" Angie said, sounding genuinely thrilled for her. She leant towards her, grinning secretively. "And I have the perfect way to celebrate!"
"Oh?" Peggy asked, intrigued by the mischievous look on the other girls face.
"Half a rhubarb pie and a bottle of schnapps," she said, still smiling and practically bouncing in her seat. "Let's see which makes us sick first!"
Peggy couldn't help a small laugh. "What about Mrs Fry's no alcohol rule?" she asked, knowing full well that that particular rule wouldn't stop Angie when she was determined about something.
"What she doesn't know won't hurt her," Angie said breezily, waving a hand dismissively – only for her face to turn to alarm when there was a sudden knock on Peggy's door.
"Miss Carter?" Mrs Fry's voice came through the wood, making Angie look positively panicked at potentially being caught out so quickly. "Miss Carter, are you in?"
Peggy shot Angie a calming smile and went to open the door; Mrs Fry was outside, flanked by a young, blonde woman clutching a carpet bag.
"Ah, Miss Carter," Mrs Fry said with a passive smile that barely seemed to move her powdered cheeks. "I'd like to introduce you to your new neighbour, Miss Dorothy Underwood."
"Oh please, call me Dottie," the girl gushed in an unmistakable Iowa accent, eagerly thrusting out her hand to shake. This must be the girl that would be replacing Molly, who had been asked to leave earlier that morning – Mrs Fry certainly didn't hang around when it came to filling rooms, it seemed. "Nice to meet you. This place is pretty swell, huh? Seems like one big happy family."
"With all the dysfunctional quirks," Angie put in blithely, having crept towards the door when she'd realised that she wasn't about to be told off. "Angie Martinelli, nice to meet you," she added, extending her own hand as well.
"Miss Underwood hales from Iowa and is pursuing a ballet career," Mrs Fry told them, making Dottie blush modestly and look down, still clutching her bag. "Typically, I find dancers too carefree and irresponsible, though I have always appreciated the discipline of ballet."
"I'm sure you will be very happy here," Peggy said smoothly, while Angie nodded behind her.
Mrs Fry turned to Dottie. "Miss Underwood, your key," she said, handing her a small key with a leather tag that read Griffith on it. "Ladies, I trust you will help Miss Underwood get settled in?" the matron added, casting a piercing look at the two other women.
"You got it, Mrs Fry," Angie agreed, while Peggy nodded her acquiescence.
"Excellent, I'll leave you three neighbours to get acquainted," Mrs Fry said in a satisfied voice, leaving them with a smile.
There was a brief silence as the woman swept away down the corridor; Dottie was still standing in front of them, demurely clutching her bag. "We were just about to have a glass of schnapps, Dot," Angie told her brightly. "Wanna join?"
The young woman positively beamed at them. "Oh, that would be swell," she said happily, trailing after them into Peggy's room.
"What have you ladies got planned for tonight?" Jack asked as he picked up his jacket from the back of his chair. After finding the weapons earlier, he had returned to the SSR to help with the cataloguing process and had ended up staying late. It was only him, Sousa, and Krezminsky left in the bullpen; they were taking the night shift and everyone else had long since gone home.
"Aside from being stuck in the shadow of your lucky find?" Ray said from his station, still sounding mildly put out about the discovery.
Jack smirked. "Nothing lucky about it," he said honestly, putting his hat low on his head.
Sousa, meanwhile, was slowly tapping away at this typewriter. "I gotta finish this letter to the Bureau of Identification, but aside from that …" he said, rubbing one hand over the lower half of his face and grimacing – with Jack and Carter's find earlier, Sousa and Krezminsky were probably in for an unexciting night.
Suddenly registering what Sousa had said, Jack paused and frowned at him. "Bureau of Identification?" he repeated.
"Yeah, still looking into the blonde at Raymond's club," he said casually, squinting slightly at the letter and then absently tapping a hand on a file that he had been reading earlier. "I pulled fingerprints from the stapler and safe door, but they haven't matched any criminal files. I'm asking them to expand the search to civil and army records," he told them.
Jack clenched his jaw– those fingerprints were Peggy's and something was bound to show up in the army files if Sousa kept digging.
"And I am meant to be taking my girl to a show, but looks like I'm on for a dull night with only peg-leg here for company," Ray put in.
Sousa cast a baleful look over at the jibe. "Thanks Krezminsky," he said in a deceptively neutral voice, well used to such comments.
Seeing his opportunity, Jack took off his hat and used it to gesture towards Ray. "You know what? I'm in a good mood after today," he said casually. "You take off, I'll cover for you."
"Seriously?" Krezminsky said, not believing his luck.
Jack sat back down at his station. "Scram, before I change my mind," he ordered, tossing his jacket over his desk as he settled back in for the night.
Not one to look a gift-horse in the mouth, Ray quickly gathered his things. "Thanks pal, I owe you," he said simply as he headed towards the elevator.
There was a brief silence as he left, then Sousa spoke once more. "You guys did good today," he said genuinely, casting a friendly smile in Jack's direction. "How was Carter in the field?"
"She was fine," he replied vaguely, not looking up from the file he was reading – it was the catalogue of weapons, though he had already read it several times that afternoon and simply needed the appearance of working until a chance to read the letter Sousa was working on presented itself. "Chief assigned us as partners for the rest of the case."
"That's ... great," Daniel said and the hesitation in his voice caused Jack to glance up at him. He was staring intently at his typewriter once more and tapping away at the keys, setting the machine to a new line with a faint whir and ding.
Jack raised a brow, curious. "You carrying a torch for her?" he wanted to know, having suspected that this was the case since Peggy had transferred to their office.
"No more than you," Sousa shot back instantly, then his face broke into a wry smile. "Or half the rest of the office," he added and Jack hid a knowing smirk of his own – he had heard several of the men saying that the highlight of their day was when Peggy leant forward to refill their coffee cups.
There was several minutes of silence, during which Sousa finished off his letter. He pulled it from the typewriter, signed it with a fountain pen on his desk, and sealed it in an envelope. Leaving it in his tray to be sent out tomorrow, he hefted his crutch and got to his feet.
"I'm starved, you want anything from the burger joint down the block?" he offered.
Jack jerked his head in an affirmative and handed Sousa a couple of dollars as he passed him, giving him his food order. He then waited for the other man to leave, not stirring from his slouched position at his station until he heard the elevator close behind him.
Finally, he was alone in the bullpen.
Getting to his feet and heading to Sousa's station, he grabbed the addressed envelope and carefully eased it open without tearing the paper. He pulled out the single sheet of paper and read it. It was a simple enough message: a reference number for the case and a request for them to expand the search.
Taking it back to his own station, Jack fed a fresh sheet of paper into his own typewriter and sat down, casting a wary glance at the elevator to make sure he was still alone. He quickly copied the start of the letter and the reference number, but then told them that the case had been closed and no further information was required.
Pulling it from the machine, he laid it flat on his desk next to Sousa's letter – now came the tricky part, forging his signature. He practised several times on a scrap of paper, making sure the scrawl was passable, then forged Sousa's name on the new letter. Satisfied, he folded the paper and placed it back in the addressed envelope; a dab of glue later and it was impossible to tell that the envelope had been tampered with at all.
When Agent Sousa returned some minutes later with their food the letter was precisely where he had left it at his station; Jack, meanwhile, had his feet up on his desk and his head buried in a file, looking for all the world like he hadn't moved an inch.
Next up – Howard Stark returns and the search for the Tesseract is on …
Thanks to #Cravinghoneydukes for proofing, and thank you to all of you for your lovely reviews – keep 'em coming! :)