Once Peggy had slipped into the new evening gown that Howard's lab had provided, Thompson picked her up in the Oldsmobile. Without a word, she slid onto the passenger seat, and after a quick nod to her partner, Jack began to drive away.
Peggy looked over at Jack and saw that, as always, he looked debonair in his black tux. He might complain about wearing a "monkey suit," but she thought he secretly enjoyed the attention it got him. She herself looked stunning in her evening attire, and Jack grinned back at her. They both cleaned up rather nicely.
To blend in with the other attendees, Peggy wore a lovely long black dress with a matching clutch purse and shawl. Already the black high heels she wore were pinching her toes, but that just added to her resolve.
Absentmindedly, Peggy patted her flawlessly styled up-do and ensured that her pearl-studded earrings were in place. She had left behind the matching necklace that her mother had given her. When on assignment, she never wore anything that dangled. Besides the pain of having hooped earrings ripped out, there was the utter indignity of being strangled by one's own accessories.
Faintly in the background, Peggy heard the muted tones of Tommy Dorsey's "Opus No. 1" on the car's radio and could not help but smile in hearing this upbeat swing tune. After what the Colonel had just told her, she would need it to help lighten her mood.
Before she left, Peggy had called into the office. Philips gruffly informed her that the CIA was now planning on attending.
Angered that the counter-intelligence rival was overstepping their jurisdiction, Peggy demanded, "What? How can they?"
Just as frustrated as she was, the Colonel snapped, "They claim that since this is linked to a possible international attack, they have every right to be involved."
Already anticipating the power grab concerning their two agencies, Peggy bit out, "You know they will try to take things over from us."
She could hear the Colonel's grin when he replied, "I am sure that the State Department will have something to say about that." Her sullen silence had him adding, "Besides, this won't be the only time you will have to work with other agencies, Carter. You need to strengthen those diplomatic skills if you someday want my job."
"Just like how you use your diplomatic expertise, Colonel," she retorted sweetly.
Unamused, the Colonel replied, "The top CIA operative attending is named Smith."
"My, how original," she muttered.
"I'll leave you to it, Carter," and the Colonel hung up.
As they drove along, Peggy wondered why the CIA was even getting involved. Possible international attack or not, the Secret Service and the State Department already had it all well covered.
It was just like their rival to poke their noses where they did not belong. Unable to imagine their endgame, Peggy shook her head, irritated.
Noticing her agitation, Jack turned up the music. Glenn Miller's melodic "Moonlight Serenade" played. Peggy supposed he thought that music would soothe the savage beast. He was wrong.
If she was to be honest, the real issue was that she would have barely any time to coordinate with the other agencies before the Museum event officially started. Frankly, it would help if certain high-profile individuals decided to skip the occasion altogether.
Peggy sighed. She was not surprised that the "Buck Stops Here" US President refused to cancel his appearance. At the same time, she was both proud and worried about his arrogance. But danger aside, Truman needed to be there.
Besides the Suez Canal issue, the Presidential election was nearly upon them, and Truman could not appear weak. Already the incumbent Democratic President was not expected to win against the heavily favored Republican Governor Thomas E. Dewey. So if word got out that Truman canceled this crucial meeting, he could kiss the rest of his slim political chances goodbye.
Her musings were cut short when Jack pulled up to the Museum. Peggy gazed at the red brick façade of the Smithsonian Institute's main building, aka "The Castle." Thankfully they were early enough to walk in just as the caterers finished setting up for the gathering.
While Thompson parked the car, Peggy introduced herself to the head of museum security and those from the State Department, including the FBI.
The man in charge was named Kellogg, and he looked at Peggy in disdain. He did nothing to hide his derision that the SSR was even there, especially with a woman in charge. It was only due to the SSRs uncovering the plot to attack the Smithsonian that Peggy was even given the time of day.
It still did not stop the older State Department official from complaining, "Look, I am busy organizing everyone from the FBI to museum security. I don't have time to babysit you or the CIA. Actually, make yourself useful and brief them for me."
The Agent standing next to Kellogg smirked as he eyed Peggy up and down. He made sure she saw his FBI badge when his suitcoat jacket conveniently swung open.
Ignoring the show of power, Peggy bristled and asked, "Well, where would you like my people stationed."
Dismissive, Kellogg replied, "Wherever you like, just keep them out of our way."
Peggy supposed that at least he hadn't told her to get them coffee.
She then heard the FBI Agent's deprecating, snorting chuckle. This noise seemed to pull all attention to him, and Kellogg ordered, "Agent Jacobs, why don't you escort them somewhere quiet."
Peggy's smug satisfaction ceased when the Jacobs led her and Thompson down into the Museum's basement. Various office doors lined the long corridor.
"Since you enjoy bugging us so much, you should feel right at home here." Laughing, he opened the door to the entomology department. On either side of the room, glass cabinets lined the walls, each filled with perfectly preserved insects from all over the world.
If he expected her to scream and run away at the sight of a few insects, he would be gravely disappointed. Instead, Peggy nodded graciously and headed inside. Huffing at her lack of a response, Jacobs left them alone. Thompson shut the door behind him with a little more vehemence than usual.
Peggy tried not to grimace when she spied the dried ladybugs waiting to be cataloged on the only available space. Carefully nudging the insects aside, she unfolded the Museum schematics and placed it down on the faded, varnished surface of the old desk.
Studying the interior diagram, Peggy was sure that the State Department had already vetted everyone attending. They would also make sure that their presence was at every doorway as well as among the guests. But they were supposed to be visible. It was their way of deterring problems.
Due diligence aside, disreputable individuals could forge wait staff credentials. That was why Peggy planned to integrate some of her own among the employees. This way, they could unobtrusively keep an eye on those who served the meals and circulate among the crowds without arousing suspicion.
Contacting Rose on the walkie-talkie, Peggy told her where the other SSR agents should be positioned throughout the Reception Hall. As she spoke, Peggy used the ladybugs to mark on the blueprints where her operatives would be stationed.
Then looking at the Museum's exterior, Peggy figured that if Agent Smith did not show up soon, she would send Jack out to lead the remaining SSR Agents into the gardens. The grounds were big enough that she doubted the State Department would mind the additional manpower.
Impatient, Peggy grabbed Jack's wrist and glanced at his watch. She let out an irritated sigh. As a courtesy, she would give the CIA another minute.
Jack cleared his throat and assured, "Carter, it's a sound plan. We won't need the CIA's help."
Peggy nodded but still scrutinized the diagram for any problem spots that needed extra protection. Time continued to tick by.
Either Smith was doing the time-honored tradition of being fashionable late, or he could not get his act together as quickly as a special operative should. She trusted it was nothing more problematic than that. It would not do to start playing games this early when lives were at stake.
She was about to order Jack to the gardens when there was a quick rap on the door.
"Enter," Peggy replied coolly. She made sure that the heavy light fixture on the weathered desk was within reach if she needed a weapon fast. Beside her, Thompson had his hand resting on the butt of his holstered gun.
They both tensed when a tall man entered wearing a tux. Shadowing him was a stocky person that Peggy could not make out yet. The one in front quickly raised his hands in surrender, "Don't shoot. I am on your side. I'm Agent Smith with the CIA."
He flashed them his identification and then pointed over his shoulder, adding, "And this is my second in command."
Peggy relaxed until the man behind Smith stepped forward. Then, instantly recognizing him, she stiffened.
Registering her sudden change in posture, she heard the familiar cocky voice crone, "Good to see you too, Queen Victoria."
Thompson snarled at the insult. But before he could react, Peggy curtly replied, "Gilmore Hodge, I should have known you'd have slithered your way up in the ranks."
"It's Agent Jones to you, your majesty." He loomed closer. His bulk had become hardened muscle that she noticed was flexing under his formal wear. She was surprised he hadn't passed out from the exertion yet. Obviously, he was still a bully, and her dislike for the man grew tenfold.
Not giving an inch, she countered, "Yes, of course, it would be. How is your nose, by the way?"
Hodge automatically rubbed it as he remembered their first confrontation. He then sneered down at her, "Once, you taught me a lesson in manners. I think it's your turn now."
Not caring for the threat aimed at his superior, Thompson leaned forward. Peggy quickly stopped him with a hand on his arm. She certainly did not need anyone coming to her rescue, nor did she wish for Thompson to aggravate his still tender chest wound.
Instead of punching Hodge like the last time, Peggy looked to his superior to see if he would put a stop to this insubordination before she did.
The lead CIA Agent smirked at their exchange. Peggy wondered if Smith knew about their past dealings at Camp Lehigh and used this to gauge how she would handle herself. More than bullies, she hated being tested.
Instead of correcting his man on proper espionage etiquette, Agent Smith stuck out his hand to shake, and Peggy took it. "Agent Carter, I presume. It is a pleasure to meet you formally."
"Agent Smith," she replied cordially as she released her hand from his cold grip. She remembered the Colonel's words about being diplomatic, so she put on a polite smile. Still, she could not help her little dig of, "I am glad you could finally make it on such short notice."
He nodded and then instantly changed the subject when he indicated the confiscated blueprints on the table, "Well done gathering the enemy's plans, Carter. So, where would you like my men placed?"
Peggy was nearly taken aback by his compliment and deferring his position to her. She had expected differently and should have been relieved. But instead, she was wary, for this man's smile did not match his eyes. They were shark-like as they gleamed curiously at her, judging her every move and reaction.
Shrugging off her unease, Peggy nodded to Jack, "Agent Thomson will lead our operatives outside in the gardens." She pointed to the blueprints and then added more ladybugs to mark where her people would be positioned throughout the grounds.
Peggy continued, "Decide who you want from your group to be out there. If you can spare them, seven of your agents should do the trick. Keep them hidden, though. We do not want to scare any other assassins off."
She then indicated the ladybugs within the interior of the diagram, "I have already put most of my team undercover in the Reception Hall. Since this is also where the buffet is, the brunt of the dignitaries will naturally congregate in that area. However, I believe there are still a few blind spots that we do not have coverage for, so that would be a great help."
Studying the map, Smith smiled at the placement of the ladybugs. Then, nodding in agreement, he stated, "Yes, I am sure you have it all covered well." He motioned to Hodge, who snapped out of the leer he had been aiming at Peggy. "Go with Agent Thompson and follow his orders."
Hodge nodded and waited for Thompson to lead him from the room. Jack seemed reluctant about leaving his superior alone, but Peggy subtly indicated that she was perfectly fine. Smith did not miss this silent exchange. After Jack and Hodge had left, Smith turned to face Peggy and further appraised her as if she were one of the ladybugs on the table. "I find the loyalty that your people have for you admirable. Too bad your agency will soon cease to exist."
Her smile was tight, "The SSR is not dead yet."
Resting his hip on the table's edge, Smith folded his arms across his chest. Grinning, he said, "That almost sounds like a challenge, Carter."
With a slight shrug of her shoulders, Peggy replied, "I have learned over the years, Agent Smith, that one cannot forget that an old horse still rides true."
"And all the way into the glue factory," he countered. Before she could retort, he leaned over and tapped the blueprints, "Tell me how you got these plans."
Now all business, she explained the anonymous tip and then of apprehending Doug Reynolds. Smith nodded as he replied, "Yes, but I am curious why they called you and not us."
It was Peggy's turn to cross her arms, "Maybe because we have been around longer and are better known."
He did his usual thin-lipped smirk again, "Now that definitely sounded like a challenge." The dark gleam in his eyes brightened momentarily, "And I so do enjoy a challenge." His astute gaze made Peggy apprehensive, but she refused to let him see any reaction.
Instead, she shook her head. Tired of using the diplomacy that the Colonel had hoped for, she stated bluntly, "I assure you that we are not in a competition. I want to stop these people as much as you do."
He once more studied her with that calculating gaze of his. As if he had come to a conclusion, he slid his hip off the desk and drawled, "Alright, I will go talk to my remaining agents about covering the interior. See you at the buffet." After another cold assessing stare at her, he left without further ado.
Peggy felt a chill race across her shoulders. Smith had an underlying malice, almost as if a cruel streak was just beneath the surface. And the fact that he willingly had someone like Gilmore Hodge working as his second spoke volumes.
She would definitely be on her guard regarding this man.
Once she had filed those troublesome thoughts away, a determined Peggy straightened. She then carefully brushed the dried ladybugs off the blueprints and scattered them back onto the table close to where they had once been. With a grimace, she blew off the few bits of insect that had decided to stay latched onto the paper.
After cleaning it off, she folded the blueprints so they could fit in her small purse. The clutch was just big enough to hold the diagram, her badge, the radio, and a small gun. She had her backup piece strapped to her inner thigh holster, but she hoped she wouldn't need either of those weapons tonight.
Quickly she checked her reflection on the glass cabinets to make sure that her red lipstick hadn't smudged. Immaculate as ever, she left the cramped office to check in with Thompson.
Exiting through the Museum's back door, she found a secluded spot behind the bushes. Carefully, she pulled out the tiny radio that Howard had designed. She ensured that she grabbed that instead of her gun, or pressing the receiver could have gotten a tad messy.
Ducking further into the shadows, she radioed Jack, "Agent Thompson, do you read me?"
Thompson's crackly voice answered her summons, "Loud and clear, boss."
In the background, she could hear Hodge belittling someone. Peggy's voice became steel when she thought it could be one of hers getting dressed down, "Everything alright?"
Hearing her no-nonsense tone, Jack assured her, "All is well, mamma bear. Everyone is in their place."
She nodded to herself, pleased that all was going right so far. Besides the multitude of Special Agents positioned throughout the lush gardens, Thompson was personally keeping an eye on the area that had been circled on the blueprints. And an FBI Agent had taken the place of the mercenary Doug Reynolds just in case the enemy was watching.
"Very good, Agent Thompson. And I trust that the additional help is working out. No grievances, I presume."
He seemed to understand her veiled caution, but she could still hear the hostility in his voice, "All is fine, boss. We are getting along swimmingly."
She did not doubt that Hodge was needling Thompson, most likely about being ordered around by a "dame." Jack had become very protective of her, especially since she had gone to bat to save his career and, by extension, him.
"Alright, over and out," and she shut off the receiver. Then, tucking the radio back into her bag, Peggy strolled around the vast red sandstone of the Smithsonian to reach the Museum's front steps.
Stopping at the main staircase, she surveyed the enormous acreage surrounding this massive institution. With additional museums and government buildings being constructed nearby, this iconic building was the perfect anchor for the National Mall. Still, Peggy wouldn't be surprised if they ran out of room for their never-ending exhibit accumulations.
Peggy watched as a large group of wealthy guests entered the Smithsonian. Of course, being such a prestigious event in DC, the rich mingled with politicians and dignitaries, each vying for the other's favor for future needs. Earlier, Peggy had even spotted a celebrity strolling into the Museum ahead of all the other attendees.
Around her, guests excitedly spoke to one another about the remarkable presentation they would soon be viewing. It was quite a coup to get Egyptian antiquities into the US, especially with the current political climate.
Since the Egyptian collection was a traveling exhibit, it would have normally been placed in one of the newer buildings. Instead, a display of such magnitude would now be temporarily housed in the stately "Castle."
Then, it would be shipped off to Chicago in a few weeks. From there onwards, it would tour the whole of America.
Gliding up the steps and through the front entrance's security checkpoint, Peggy marveled that though the exterior was an old castle, the interior was of a staid but opulent gallery.
The irreplaceable artworks were for all to admire but just out of reach to remind people that one should not touch. Larger exhibits had the usual red velvet-covered rope strung from gilded poles to keep curious visitors from getting too close.
After dropping off her shawl with the coat clerk, Peggy made her way past the many vibrant tapestries and priceless artwork that adorned the stone walls.
Nearing the Reception Hall, she was pleased to recall many of the painter's names. The musty smell of antiquities was in the air, and Peggy reveled in the comfort she often associated with that scent. She always loved art and found solace in being around it. As a child, she would frequently go to museums just to read her books and observe people.
As she approached the side gallery that housed the newest prized exhibit, Peggy recognized the enormous Carlo Bugatti Throne Chair near that entrance. The renowned Italian furniture designer used unusual shapes and decorations to create this one-of-a-kind massive chair.
Peggy didn't think it looked all that comfortable, but an older patron almost sat on it. Luckily one of the security guards who stood sentry to the Hamunaptra collection stepped forward just in time before Peggy had to intervene.
Sometimes the nouveau riche could be so oblivious.
Strolling past the large room set aside for this special Egyptian exhibit, Peggy smiled at the guards who blocked the open entry. Curious, she peeked over their towering frames and was intrigued when she spotted the giant half-buried statue of Anubis. Having memorized the event's itinerary, Peggy knew that right after the speeches, all would be allowed access to the room that held the priceless artifacts.
Peggy soon entered the massive Reception Hall and took it all in. Eyeing the back of the room, she spied the long line of old knight's armor that buttressed the wall. The bulky objects took up most of the rear section. Near them, a string quartet played softly in the background. The somber chamber music fit the dignified mood of the patrons well.
Her gaze shifted to the left. Looking above, she marveled at the grandest representation of stained glass she had ever seen. During the daytime, the sunlight streaming through them must have been magical. Under that were the bar and buffet area. And in the front of the room was the podium where the guest speaker and then the President would talk.
After this quick survey, Peggy angled toward where the high-profiled patrons congregated. The women wore elegant dresses while their male companions wore stylish tuxes. Peggy was nearly blinded by the amount of jewelry the perfectly coiffed ladies had decorated upon their persons. It was almost as if Christmas had come early.
Moving among them, the FBI and the Secret Service kept a sharp eye out for any trouble.
A lovely buffet was laid out, and President Truman and other dignitaries grazed on fresh lobster cakes and exquisite truffle desserts. Lingering by the table, Peggy picked up a small plate and put a few finger foods on it. More interested in her surroundings, she nibbled on some mini quiches as she began to circulate the room.
As her gaze surreptitiously scanned the area, she made brief eye contact with her operative Rick Ramirez. When there were no eye rolls from the Agent, Peggy knew that there was nothing significant to report. And by the look of things, everything was running smoothly.
Waiters cruised around the room as they carried trays of champagne, but she declined when one stopped in front of her. She needed a hand-free just in case, and the food was too good to put down. Besides, this was not a social event where she could drink anything stronger than coffee anyway.
Ambling toward the shadowed corner by the podium, Peggy had a feeling that Smith would be somewhere around there. The gloomy dimness seemed a perfect spot for the cunning man to hide. Sure enough, she recognized his familiar silhouette when he stepped out of the darkness to greet her.
Well, that was one way to keep an eye on things, Peggy thought with a disagreeable sneer. Personally, she preferred to be out where the action could take place. As she moved closer to Smith, she heard him ask, "I trust that my man Hodge was behaving himself."
Peggy would have believed that he had spies on her except that it made sense that she would check on her people. She wondered if he cared enough for his own to do the same, "Yes, and I trust that all your agents are in their respective spots."
She watched him nod at a few of his operatives who passed them by unobtrusively. Some were in evening attire, while others were in wait staff outfits. She recognized one as the waiter who had stopped by to offer her some champagne, and Peggy grinned. Smith's people seemed to blend in rather well, and she was relieved to know that at least the agents under him were competent.
But even with all this security, infiltrating this event would not be that hard. It never was if one was determined enough.
Deciding she needed to mingle more, Peggy quipped, "Right, then I will leave you to it."
Making her way toward the center of the room, Peggy closely observed those she moved past. There was a quiet, dignified din as wealthy patrons hobnobbed with America's form of royalty - celebrities and politicians.
Dropping her empty plate onto a passing tray, Peggy made a beeline to the bar. The female bartender turned and offered her a sparkling drink in a champagne flute stating, "It is all the rage."
Knowing that her Agent would never serve her alcohol, Peggy smiled back at Rose in appreciation. The drink looked like a perfect substitute for bubbly.
"Thank you," Peggy replied with a nod, and Rose subtly returned the gesture. She then went back to cleaning champagne glasses for the next serving.
Out of all the SSR's newer agents, Peggy was the proudest of this woman who had once bragged about learning to surf off the Californian coast. She had become one of the few people that Peggy trusted the most. Both Rose and Thompson had proven themselves immensely in the field.
Peggy took a sip of her drink and tried not to make a face when she tasted the caramel-colored beverage Moxie. Frankly, she preferred the taste of sarsaparilla, but it was too dark to be mistaken for champagne. And since she needed something to help blend in, this would have to do.
Schooling her features, Peggy nonchalantly people watched. She enjoyed this part of the job and considered it the ultimate game of cat and mouse as she tried to pick out the enemy operatives or anyone else who did not belong there.
Her gaze was expertly skimming the packed room when she spied two suspicious-looking people tucked in the back away from all the others. The stylishly dressed blonde-haired man was very handsome. He stood close to a pretty blonde-haired woman in a black dress, hovering over her as if he was shielding her presence.
Both seemed more intent on watching a select few patrons than the crowd. At first, Peggy believed they were reporters but saw neither wore the necessary credentials indicating such.
Upon further scrutiny, they were taking mental notes as to where security was throughout the room. Suspecting trouble, Peggy began to angle toward them. Suddenly, a petite woman with silver-streaked auburn hair was blocking her path. Stopping short, Peggy recognized her from the Museum's brochure as the Professor heading the Hamunaptra exhibit.
Glancing over the woman's shoulder, Peggy saw the suspicious couple quickly kiss and then duck out of the room. Probably searching for a place to 'relax,' Peggy thought, unamused. Still, she would keep an eye out for them just in case. But first, she would have to deal with the woman in front of her.
With forced joviality, Peggy gushed, "Professor Evelyn O'Connell, it is a pleasure to meet you."
Peggy held out her hand in greeting and found her grasp returned by a firm grip. Frankly, she should not have been surprised that though dainty in appearance, there was strength in that callused hand. It reflected all the hard work this woman had done during her years in the field. Peggy was pleased to know that such a pioneer in archeology was undoubtedly not one of those who sat behind a desk.
The woman's bubbly nature had not been discouraged by age either. Evelyn enthused, "Sorry to bother you, but I could not help but talk to a fellow compatriot, Agent Carter. And I must say, it is a pleasure to meet a woman who is obviously in charge around here."
Peggy looked aghast at Evelyn. She usually hid her occupation better and wondered where she had messed up.
Seeing her apparent distress, Evelyn leaned forward conspiratorially and quickly amended, "Oh, do not worry, your secret is safe with me. Honestly, the only thing that gave you away was that gentleman."
She pointed to a nicely dressed man in a white suit coat who raised his glass in salute to them. Peggy grounded her teeth. Of course, Howard Stark would be here. Though she considered him a loyal friend, he seemed to forget all that when a pair of knickers were involved.
"I think he was just trying to impress me." Evelyn wiggled the fingers on her left hand, and the nice-sized diamond twinkled prettily in the overhead lights. "But I'm happily married. Though I must say, he is rather dashing, don't you think?"
At first, Peggy thought Evelyn meant her husband, but no, it was Howard she referred to, and Peggy grumbled frustrated, "Yes, and against some rocks would be preferable."
"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that?" But from the twinkle in the woman's eyes, Peggy doubted much got past her.
Still though, decorum and all, so Peggy stated diplomatically, "Nothing, it seems that something is not agreeing with me."
Evelyn smiled cheekily and played along, "Yes, it might have been the lobster cakes. I do so hope you haven't had any. Smelled putrid."
She crinkled her nose cutely, and Peggy could see why Howard had tried to make a move on her. Even in her late 40's, the woman was still very alluring. The thin streaks of silver throughout her wavy auburn hair added dignity to the petite woman's already formidable nature.
"Ah," Evelyn said, suddenly spying movement behind Peggy. The SSR Agent turned and saw that one of the proprietors was signaling to the Professor.
"Well, they want me to get ready for my presentation." Evelyn took a deep gulp of fortifying whiskey, finishing it. She slurred slightly, "Sorry, I hate public speaking."
Peggy nodded in complete understanding. She doubted the traditional encouragement of 'break a leg' would help and instead uttered, "Um yes, well, I am looking forward to seeing your exhibit."
Evelyn's eyes became distant from memory, "Yes, it was quite the adventure to obtain it. I do so wish we could have saved more, though." Suddenly back in the present, she smiled shyly at Peggy, "Sorry, I was thinking of my husband and how much I miss him. Thankfully the trip back to Britain only takes a few days by boat."
Peggy grinned at the other woman, who dipped her head back in return. Peggy then watched as the Professor strode confidently toward the podium.
Ignoring Howard's approach, Peggy scanned the room for that blonde couple and any other possible suspicious persons.
[Sorry, I could not help myself and had to include Evelyn O'Connell. She is only in a few chapters as a Guest Star in this story.]
