Moira sprinted out of the doors to the casino and across the street, where she yanked open the surveillance car's door and jumped into the seat next to a baffled Levine.
"What happened?" Levine asked as Moira snatched the car phone from the center console of the vehicle.
"I saw Shaw," She said as she dialed the direct number for CIA Director John A. McCone. "He met with Hendry, a woman who turned to glass, a man who can throw wind, and a guy who looks like the devil." The phone rang…
"What?!" Levine asked as his eyes shot wide. "What kinda freakshow is he runnin' in there?"
"The devil man disappeared with Hendry." Moira said as the line clicked.
"Director McCone's office." A female voice said over the phone.
"This is Special Agent MacTaggart, I have an urgent report for Director McCone."
"I'm sorry, the director is indisposed, can-"
"No," Moira interrupted. "I need you to connect me to the director, no matter what he's doing! If he's in the john, stretch the handset out and give it to him!"
"He's currently in the Joint War Room, Agent MacTaggart, he-"
"Connect me to his secure line in the room, god-dammit, and stop wasting my time!"
The Pentagon, Arlington VA, approximately two-thousand and eighty miles from the Hellfire Club in Las Vegas.
In the restroom outside of the Joint War Room, Captain Steven G. Rogers adjusted his uniform as Logan took a drink of water out of a paper cup.
"Seems like they want to waste our time, makin' us come out here in this getup just to talk about those rockets." Logan quipped as he crushed his cup and tossed it in the trash.
"If things go well, it will be a waste of time." Steve replied as he turned from the mirror. "The Jupiter vote is, or should be, a dead issue. We put it to bed, we can move onto something else. Something that works."
The restroom door opened with a creak, and Steve and Logan turned to see Colonel Robert Hendry walk in, dressed in a tuxedo, not his uniform.
"Colonel Hendry!" Steve exclaimed as the under-dressed, or possibly over-dressed colonel strode past them to the sink. "I didn't think you were going to make it today."
Logan sniffed at the air as Hendry turned on the faucet.
"Change of plans, Captain." Hendry said as he rolled up his sleeves and allowed water to fill his palms. He splashed a small amount of water on his face, then turned off the faucet, and grabbed a towel to dry his hands and face. "This vote is too important to miss."
"Important enough to be out of uniform for it?" Steve inquired. "There's no majority in favor."
"You've been out of uniform for two wars running, Captain." Hendry said as he tossed his towel onto the counter. "Formal dress for a voting session isn't outside of the ordinary in comparison."
Steve raised an eyebrow. "That was my uniform."
Hendry just smirked at Steve as he made for the door, but Logan placed one hand gently, but firmly against the Colonel's chest.
"What brand of cigars do you smoke?" Logan asked suspiciously.
Hendry shrugged. "I don't." He said as he maneuvered around Logan's arm and grasped the door handle.
"Funny, because you smell like brimstone." Logan quipped as Hendry left the restroom.
Hendry stiffened, and paused at the door, but didn't turn to face the two, and simply continued on his path.
"What the hell was that about?" Steve asked, bewildered.
"I'm gonna keep an eye on him in the room." Logan said. "Something ain't right."
Joint War Room.
Inside the Joint War Room, Steve and Logan took their places among the other members of the Soviet Response Panel. Logan kept a keen, unsubtle eye on Hendry as the panel began. The presentation was led by a young man, a Major William Stryker Jr., who held a clipboard in his hands, along with a long pointer.
"Daddy Warbucks strikes again." Logan muttered as they took their seats.
Steve shook his head. William Stryker Sr. was a high-ranking official in the CIA, and former US Army. It was suspected by many that he'd pulled some strings to get his son placed in such a prominent position so early in his career.
"Gentlemen of the panel," Stryker began. "Today, one way or another, we are going to lay to rest the issue of the placement of Jupiter Missiles in close proximity to the Soviet Union. If we cannot come to a consensus in favor today, the issue will be considered moot."
"The request to lead the argument in favor of placement today is…" Stryker looked down at his clipboard, and his eyes widened in surprise. "Colonel Robert Hendry."
Steve tore his gaze away from Stryker and glared at Hendry in shock and horror. Every other eye in the room turned to the tuxedoed Colonel as well.
"Colonel Hendry, you have the floor." Stryker said.
"Thank you, Major." Hendry said as he leaned forward to speak into the microphone at his place. "Having given it some thought since our previous empanelment, I've reconsidered my position, as my request would suggest. Placing our missiles in Turkey and Italy sends a message loud and clear to Uncle Joe. If he tries anything funny, we can fire them off before the Russian early warning system has a chance to kick in. We can take our pick of strategic and military targets, and end any war before it begins."
At his place at the table, CIA Director John A. McCone heard his emergency telephone line give off a small sound indicating he had an incoming call.
Who the hell is calling me in the middle of this?! He wondered as he picked up the phone.
"This is McCone." He said quietly.
"Director, this is Agent McTaggart." Moira McTaggart's voice sounded frantically through the line.
McCone became both more relaxed and more irritated all at once.
"This better be important, McTaggart." He hissed into the phone.
"Director, I just saw Colonel Robert Hendry at the Atomic Night Club here in Las Vegas, he met with Sebastian Shaw, and then disappeared when a red man grabbed his hand!"
"Whoa, slow down!" McCone exclaimed under his breath. "Are you smokin' some funny cigarettes? People don't just disappear!"
"But he did, I saw it, I saw it with both of my eyes!"
McCone glanced across the table, where he saw Hendry seated, making an impassioned argument against his previous positions.
"Hendry is sitting across the table from me trying to start World War III, so unless he traveled over two-thousand miles in ten minutes, I suggest you stop wasting my time!"
McCone hung up the receiver as Stryker finished his argument.
"And in opposition, we have… Captain Steven G. Rogers. Captain America, you have the floor."
"Thank you, Major Stryker." Steve said as he leaned forward, never once breaking his gaze from Hendry. "Simply put, the Jupiter Missile is obsolete, and our intel on Russian anti-air technology is becoming quickly outdated. Placing them openly is equivalent to empty saber-rattling, and creates a rallying point for the Soviets. If we decide to place the Jupiters, we're essentially allowing the Soviets to use them as a powerful propaganda tool. There's no use in giving them something to fight back against. If we're going to take an action, it needs to be something decisive and covert. We can't afford to tip our hand like this."
"With all due respect, Captain," Hendry replied. "It sounds to me like you want to get us into another land war, and we all know how land wars in Russia go. Jupiters will be an adequate deterrent for the Soviet Union and will keep us from being overcommitted on two fronts. Open placement shows the Soviets we mean business."
"Since when did deterrence stop them from supplying the KPA, or the Viet Cong, or anyone else?" Steve demanded.
"Gentlemen!" Stryker interjected. "We're not here to fight amongst ourselves, we're here to argue a position. Captain Rogers, do you have any alternative suggestions?"
Steve and Hendry both leaned back in their chairs. Steve appeared far more perturbed than Hendry, who seemed smug, and self-assured.
"Alright." Steve said, leaning back. "We have access to smaller-scale, higher output equipment. It's experimental, but it's workable, and won't raise as many eyebrows as the old Jupiters will."
"You're referring to weapons derived from the Tesseract?" Hendry asked.
Steve nodded coldly.
"So you want us to hand another contract to Howard Stark, who's working on an unstable weapon that's only useful for defense, not attack?" Hendry asked with a scoff. "He's a genius, but we can't hand everything to Captain America's friends."
Steve stared daggers into Hendry… "If you're trying to say something-"
"And I think we should put that topic to bed." Stryker interjected hastily. "Please stick to the facts so we can inform the vote."
The panel discussion continued into the voting… And the vote did not end the way Steve wanted it to.
"With a majority decision, the motion passes." Stryker said. "Thank you all for your time, and dedication, gentlemen. You are dismissed."
Hendry was the first one to rise from his spot at the table, with Steve and Logan quick to follow. Hendry made for the door quickly, but Steve stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder, which the Captain used to turn the Colonel to face him.
"What the hell was that about?" Steve asked firmly.
"Do you mind taking your hand off my jacket, captain?" Hendry asked. "It's real silk."
Steve gently removed his hand from Hendry's shoulder, and crossed his arms. "You've flipped your position, and a few others with it. I'd just like to know why."
Hendry chuckled under his breath as he readjusted his tuxedo.
"You know, Captain, I'm about three months younger than you are, but you couldn't tell it by looking at us. You haven't aged a damn day since you stepped out of that pod, and took all the attention to the European Theater. You raised some money for us, but all the attention, all the glory? That went to the Howling Commandos and their star-spangled man with a plan. We fought in the Atolls, across the islands, on the sands of Iwo Jima. We fought tooth and nail for that territory, even managed to get a surrender signed before you did. But because you punched der Fuhrer in the face, everyone remembers you, and The Wolverine, and that wife of yours, and all your friends. You went from a clown in a suit to a bigger hero than my dead friends ever could be. Speaking of The Wonder Woman, where the hell did you find her? What's the story you gave? Some hot piece of ass in a red, yellow and blue skirt fished you out of the water on a tropical island, and got promoted to officer status inside a week, breaking every Army record on the books?" Hendry scoffed. "Makes you wonder if she's doing something behind the scenes..."
Steve pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, sighed, and allowed his hands to drop to his sides, then reached out, and adjusted Hendry's jacket, brushed off the Colonel's shoulders, and straightened his bowtie, to the increasing discomfort of the Colonel.
"Next time you want to cast aspersions on my wife," Steve said in a whisper with a smile. "Do it to her face. I think she'll have a… Different response than I did."
Hendry backed away slowly, and hastily made for the exit.
Logan shook his head as he and Steve filed out of the building along with the rest of the panel.
"You had him about another inch from pissing those slacks." Logan said with a barking laugh. "You wanna head back and grab a drink?"
Steve snorted, and shrugged. "I would if I thought it would help."
"Think they're gonna bring us into that shit down in Vietnam?" Logan asked as they exited The Pentagon. The wild-looking man pulled a cigar from his jacket pocket, and lit it up with a silver Zippo lighter.
"If we keep making decisions like this, they'll have to." Steve commented, wryly.