Stark Estate, Hollywood, California, September, 1947
"I am going back to bed," Ana Jarvis declares to the crowd that finds itself next to the swimming pool. It's a grisly sight, with a still burning body and an untold number of dead bees. The smell alone makes her feel nauseous, which does not help her drug induced lightheadedness.
"How are your stitches?" her darling Edwin asks, attentive and panicked as ever.
"Perhaps I ripped a few," she says, feeling her abdomen. "Not exactly what the doctor had in mind."
Her husband gently cups her face in his hands as their foreheads touch. "We should call an ambulance for you and Aloysius. I'll help you to the sofa so you can rest until then." He is such a treasure and Ana wouldn't know what to do without him. He scoops her up into his arms and carries her back inside.
The rest of the group looks around at the carnage. The carcasses of dead bees litter the lawn and fill the pool like fallen leaves. Then there's the smoldering remains of the creatures' host.
"So, how long does it take the fire department to get here?" Daniel asks.
Peggy cocks a brow at him, "'Fire department'? Police more likely, and the last thing they need to see is that… thing."
Michael, having found a bucket and filled it with pool water, finally douses the flames. "We just need to bury him and clean up the yard… and fix the cars."
"And get Samberly to the hospital," Howard adds.
"And remind Robby that he should make sure something's dead before declaring it so," Roger quips.
"Robert Frank?" Peggy asks, remembering the familiar name and face. The friendly giant she could never imagine in a barrister's wig and robes.
"Yes," Michael answers with an exasperated sigh, on the verge of laughter as he unbuttons his shirt to wring out the water. "Six bloody years ago. The bastard was right. Bees are a potentially deadly weapon. But for god's sake, put two in the head to be damned sure!"
Even after everything it seems Michael has more stories to tell Peggy, but they'll have to wait for another day. She calls inside. "Mr. Jarvis, how are things inside?"
He opens a window to the living room. "Fire's out, smoke didn't end up being much. Plenty of dead bees, but that's the worst of it."
Peggy nods. "Good. Michael, there are shovels in the shed. Roger, you can help him after you bring Dottie inside."
"We should set her up on the back porch," Emily says. "The fresh air will do her good, and she'll still be out of sight. Right Stark?"
"I - yes, there's lounge chairs and cushions for her." Howard is taken aback by plenty, but seeing Dottie of all people in such a sorry state makes him uneasy. "She's not gonna try and kill us again, is she?"
"I think she's over it," Sousa replies.
The scene moves on, adrenaline carrying the troupe through the worst of the day's events. Angie hands the files over to Sue, who agrees to look over what she can while Jason gets to work on refitting the cannon. Rose volunteers to ride with Ana and Samberly in the ambulance when it arrives, and Jarvis won't be far behind - no force on Earth could keep far from his wife at this point. They post up in the driveway until then, cars moved just so to keep the grisly visual obscured from any passers-by.
"Mr. Stark, is there a room I can take our new Russian friend to? He's rather banged up," Emily asks. Said Russian appears to hold back a comment.
"Uh, the study next to the library should work," Howard answers, taken aback by her brusqueness.
Emily moves without waiting for any of Peggy's instructions. "I imagine you also have ice and medicines for his injuries, too?"
"Of course. Try the kitchen."
"I think we should talk a little more on that," Michael suggests.
Emily says nothing as she half-carries, half-drags the man inside, not even pausing to look at Michael. Peggy is surprised at the coldness of it - after all the worry and fretting Michael made about the woman, seeing her brush past him is quite at odds with the dynamic she'd envisioned them having.
Roger comes back around the corner. "Dottie would like a moment with you, Peg."
Peggy nods and starts walking that way. She sees Sousa begin accompanying her, and waves him off. "It's fine, I doubt I'll need back-up with her in this state."
He sighs, but nods and lets her go. As she walks to the back yard, Angie and Howard come up behind him. "Chin up lad, she can handle herself."
"I know."
"I just can't believe Dottie got herself all tied up in this too," Angie says sadly. "What's a dancer from Iowa doing with a bunch of commies?"
Howard and Sousa both looked at Angie in surprise. "Peg never told you?" Howard asks. "Dottie's a Russian super spy."
"Really?!" Angie replies - too happily, in Sousa's opinion. "How exciting!"
"It really is. Come on in, I'll catch you up on our adventures over coffee."
They go inside, and Sousa connects the dots after a moment. He rolls his eyes before calling out to Roger and Michael. "Need another hand?"
"Well, well. We meet again, Agent Carter." Dottie greets Peggy with a weak smirk.
"You've seen better days," Peggy retorts. "How the tables have turned." She stands in front of Dottie. It's strange to see her so small and weak. It doesn't stop Dottie from smirking up at her, however. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Oh, can't two friends just catch up?" Dottie coos.
Peggy rolls her eyes, "So you're wasting my time?"
"Absolutely not, silly goose! Everything I say is of immense value." Her eyes are bright and wicked compared to the tired shadows under her eyes. "Such as saying that I was right."
Peggy could slap that shark tooth grin off Dottie's face. But it would be cruel to do that to an invalid.
"Dottie, just give it a rest. We have a lot to do and not enough time. And you clearly need to regain your strength," Peggy replies, turning to leave.
"Oh come, Agent Carter! You know what I've been telling you since you sprung me out of prison is true." Dottie's still got the smirk on her face, with beads of sweat forming at her brow. Her too blue eyes still retain their hunger with their steely resolve, despite her haggard condition.
"What's true?" Peggy asks, more curious to see where this is going.
Dottie's expression changes. There's something cryptic about it. Then again, was there ever a time she wasn't playing with people? "You still think that if you extinguish this one fire, you can end the entire problem."
"Fires need to be put out before they get out of hand."
"But this isn't a fire. You know it isn't. This is much bigger."
"Well, the Zero Matter monsters made that rather clear." Peggy wonders at what exactly Dottie's getting at.
"That's the tip of the spear, Carter," she says emphatically, eyes wide and wild. Dottie starts speaking faster, "This is the vanguard. Even if you are able to close this door to the Zero Matter, it's not going to stop. Your government will just find something else…someone else -"
"Oh, please," Peggy interrupts. She's heard this song and dance before.
"You don't understand!" Dottie fires back. "It's all about power and control. It's been that way since the United States was founded."
"As if Stalin's any different."
Dottie glares back. "Kings die and empires fall. Doesn't stop any of them from seeking the means to control the masses. The Zero Matter is a force beyond any of these fascists' control, and whether you stop them or they get themselves killed, the wheels in Washington won't stop." She leans closer, a struggle in her condition. "It's all in my notes - a plan a century in the making, and all HYDRA is doing is giving them a means to do it. These aren't a few bad apples Peg, this is the entire barrel!"
Peggy leans in to make sure she's perfectly clear. "Politicians want power, HYDRA doesn't stop, and the sky is blue. What is your point?"
"What's that saying? You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make her drink?" She settles back into her seat. "I bet your brother and Emily understand exactly what I'm saying."
Peggy grabs Dottie by the arm, pulling her up roughly from the lounge chair.
"Hey! Is that any way to treat a girl in my condition?" Dottie cries, though she's suppressing a laugh. She seems rather delighted.
"You're coming with me, Underwood, and you'll explain in plain English what this conspiracy is to the class. Let's let cooler heads judge your 'research.'"
Michael finds Emily in the kitchen, filling an ice bag. Her back is to him, ignoring his presence.
"Em?" he asks.
She keeps filling the bag, seemingly deaf to him.
"Emily?" Michael says a little louder, to which she deigns to look over her shoulder. "A word, if you please?'
She stops her work, sighs, then puts the bag into the ice chest. Emily faces Michael, arms crossed and a silent, stony look. Challenging him. You go first, sir. Your move.
"I'm curious as to why you brought that Soviet here?" he asks, making his opening move.
"Ivan?" She answers with a shrug, "I needed a good show of force to get us out of the park. And we need the leverage anyway."
"Really? 'Leverage'?" He cocks an eyebrow at the absurd notion. "From what I see, you're asking for trouble."
"And from what I see, we can buy Dottie a head start if she chooses to leave. Or come up with a tale should she stay with us. In either case, Moscow needs to believe she's no longer a problem."
"Still leaves us open to his men -"
"Who all know better than to come here in large numbers, or in broad daylight. And that's if they come. They could wash their hands of him, and we can just dispose of him…" Michael finds himself shocked by the cold tone, "... but I doubt they'll do that. It's too much trouble from Moscow - too many questions - so they'll at least consider the proposal."
"You've truly thought this out," he replies. It's audacious, but the paths are clear and Michael can see the logic.
"You didn't give me much choice," Emily retorts. Her gaze is steady and she keeps her voice even, yet Michael hears the disappointed note.
He sighs, embarrassed, "I don't think my presence would have changed much."
She looks away, withdrawing. Heaven forbid she shows she's upset. "I stuck my neck out for you, Michael. A lot was riding on you. A lot could have gone wrong."
"But it didn't," Michael says, reflexively, and regretting it immediately. Emily looks up at him, her jaw clenched and lips pressed into a thin line; holding back a well deserved rebuke. He steps closer, placing a hand on her shoulder, saying, "I trust you, Em. You're my right hand. I knew you could handle yourself."
"You were worried sick," she retorts.
"You know me too well, Em," he replies with an embarrassed sigh. He didn't sleep because of the situation. "And I'm sorry I left you out to dry."
"We got lucky this time," she adds.
"Very true. And who knows when it'll run out."
"Which is why we can't count on luck." Emily looks up at him, her gaze softened and she speaks with such a quiet voice, "We need Ivan on our side and the only things we've got going for us are location and -" she sucks in a breath "- he seems somewhat friendly towards me. Courteous at least. And seems to be under the impression that you and I are more intimate then we actually are."
Michael holds back a laugh but he can't help but quip, "Well, you are very charming when you want to be. And Roger sometimes accuses us of having a torrid affair."
"If only we were that entertaining." She turns to grab the ice once more, "In any case, we still have to work for the comrade's trust."
He squeezes her shoulder, "You already got a hook in him. I'm the one who still has to work for his trust."
Emily finally smiles as she turns. It's one of her shy, half-smiles, but it's there and Michael's relieved.
"You can try, but I don't think you could seduce him. You're not his type."
Sousa's in the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. For a moment he can't remember the last time he gave himself a chance to freshen up - then he remembers that everything that's just happened has only begun since this morning, and they still have a long day ahead of them. Christ, it feels like this day started five months ago.
"Glad you're still in one piece," Peggy says from the doorway.
Sousa smirks. "Well, the piece that matters, at least." He towels his face off and leans against the sink. "Real mess of a day, huh."
"Quite, but at least everyone made it back."
"This time," Sousa replies, just bitter enough for Peggy to pick up on. She raises an eyebrow, and he continues. "Do you feel at all like we're in over our heads?"
"Of course I do," she replies rather bluntly. "A few years ago the most dramatic thing I saw was a man pushed to his peak limits. Then a week ago a had to seal a rift in the universe to stop a woman from swallowing the state. Now I've learned that my brother fights monsters and magic on the regular - he was practically trained for it."
"And you're, what, you're just fine with that?"
"I'm adapting, Daniel," Peggy continues. "This whole week has been trying to piece together a puzzle without even knowing what the picture was. At least now we might have all the pieces."
Sousa shakes his head. "I wish I could share your confidence."
"If you've got concerns, you should just tell me. You're not English, you don't have the excuse of bottling up your feelings."
Sousa takes a moment to bite his tongue. He's had a rant brewing in him ever since he and Roger left the manor, but he knows that if he blows up at Peggy they'll both dig the team a deeper hole than the one they're already in.
Team. That was the sticking point, wasn't it?
"Peg, I trust your judgment nine times out of ten. And yeah, it's backfired on me when I haven't. But even you have to admit that most of the people in on this mission are no more trustworthy than a stranger off the street. Hell, some of them are exactly that."
"Angie needed to be protected, Susan's helped us with the science -"
"They're still civilians that basically fell on our doorstep. And what about Michael and his crew?"
"What about them?" Peggy asks, suddenly a lot more stern.
"You haven't seen him in years. You told me yourself that you're pissed at him for hiding and lying after you thought he was dead. Yeah, he has good intel and he's got a team of…of freaks helping him out, but look me in the eye and tell me you trust everything he's told you."
Of course I do, Peggy almost says, but the words die before they even make it to her throat. Because even with what Michael's told her about what he went through, what the other Invaders have had to contend with, she can't cross that bridge. Six years is a long time, even longer in war, and for everything that felt the same about the last time she'd spoken to him, two things felt different. And then there was him and Roger, which was enough to wonder whether she knew him to begin with.
"I trust him to do what he thinks is right," Peggy says. "And I trust Roger and Emily to follow him."
"But you don't trust him to follow you," Sousa replies, voicing what Peggy felt. "And what about her pet Russian?"
"We'll plan around him. At the very least he's against HYDRA, and Emily seems convinced she can keep him from doing something stupid."
"Right." Sousa grabs his crutch and Peggy moves so he can exit the washroom. "I'll fire whenever you tell me to, Peg. But please tell me you have an idea of where I should be aiming."
"Let's find out what Dottie knows first." Peggy says. "Trust me, by sundown I'll show you a target, and I'll make sure the rest of them fire at the same one."
And it's not a plan, not really, but she says it with confidence, and a little part of Sousa breathes easier. He's seeing that light in her eyes again, the one that's shown up whenever she sees two steps ahead of whatever she's chasing. Here's the woman he's been following and falling for this whole time. He'd follow her into war if she asked, and as far as he was concerned she was.
Emily's nerves are still a little frayed. Michael means well. He always means well. At least, she has to believe that. She'd be acting like a petulant child otherwise. Tuck those emotions away. Arrange your face. Now is not the time to dwell.
She listens at the door for a moment. Would Ivan have something planned for her? Emily never checked him for weapons, so perhaps he has a hidden knife on him. Or perhaps he's improvised something - it's easy to turn a chair leg into a stake. There's a good chance no one is paying attention to him, what with all the chaos going on around them. With her senses, she'd know if he were standing next to the door. If he's pressed against the wall, readying an ambush to finally slay the vampire. His heart racing in anticipation.
Yet she doesn't. She hears, at most, the shifting in his seat and a slight sigh. She hears the susurrous conversation the others are having in the adjoining library, but no one seems to be speaking to the comrade. This might be her only chance to speak with him in private. Emily opens the door, curious to see what the man is up to.
Ivan has remained in his chair, one hand over his stomach, the other leaning on a nearby desk. He looks up as she enters the room, saying nothing - no quips, no smart remarks - as Emily places the tray on a sideboard. She feels his stare upon her. She could see herself at eighteen blushing under the most innocuous of looks. And when she glances at him, Ivan's is that professional, impassive look, giving away nothing.
"I brought you an ice pack and some aspirin," Emily says.
"I see," he replies, still clutching at his abdomen, yet not moving.
She slides the pill and glass of water over to him. "You're hurt, it's the least I could do."
"And I thank you for it. I am surprised I'm still alive." He slides them back without looking away from her.
Emily hides the hurt she feels, keeping her own professional mask in place. She walks to the French doors that separates the library from the study and closes them. "I don't take kindly to people who harm my friends. But right now, I need you," she replies, walking to stand in front of him.
Ivan leans back in his chair. "You need me?" He's curious now.
"Yes."
He's quiet for a long time. Studying her. Taking her measure. What's the proposal, girl? Soon it becomes clear that he won't respond until Emily lays out her idea. So she takes a deep breath, and plunges in.
"We're seemingly at an impasse, you and I. You cannot let Aleksandra live, but I won't let you harm her. My one question to you is, what does Moscow need to know?"
"Are you talking about proof?" he asks, voice as neutral as ever.
"Is your word good enough? Do they need a picture?"
"You want to fake Volkova's death, yes?"
"I don't see any other way for any of us to walk away clean. You have to stop her as a threat to the Soviet people. I won't let you kill her. You know you cannot beat me," Emily says. "And you have the most to lose. I can't go back to Wales. If you fail, can you go back to Russia?"
Ivan's jaw clenches ever so slightly. He grips the arm of his chair a little tighter. She can sense the increase in his pulse. She keeps herself poised. Schools herself. Pride goeth before the fall, of course.
"Our world is a rather unfeeling one, and you understand what the consequences are for your failure. You either succeed, or you die."
He looks away for a moment, then huffs out a half laugh. "Miss Gower, you must have been a missionary in another life."
"How do you mean?" Emily asks, keeping her cool if the ploy is to throw her off balance.
"You seem determined to save very wretched souls. It is a rare trait in our world, such mercy," Ivan replies.
She huffs, "Whatever makes you think that, comrade?"
"As you said, 'our world is a rather unfeeling one'. We all do monstrous work. Some can rationalize their actions. Others fall back on drink to drown all of their doubts and numb their pain. And I see that you are in an awful position because you refuse such temptations."
Emily swallows against the dryness in her throat. He's made up his mind. Damned Russian fatalism.
"Doesn't mean we have to accept it. The way our world is. Why should we?" Emily says. Come on, just think this through, Ivan. "You have a lot to lose if you don't work with me. But you have a lot to gain if you do."
"About this HYDRA operation," Ivan replies.
She nods, "Everything. I was in the Balkans long enough to know your lot got some of the worst fighting. It hasn't been that long since the surrender. Lot of those bastards got away."
"And they are bringing monsters to this world."
"Quite correct."
"Our children will not know peace until they are all dead."
Such a funny thing to say. Emily hears a note of sadness in his voice. Resignation, perhaps. The eternal struggle against fascism. How their children won't know peace. Perhaps she's just thinking too much about what Ivan said. There's more pressing matters.
"When will your men come to fetch you?" Emily asks.
Ivan looks at his watch. "Sunset. If they come."
"Will we have to stage an escape?"
"Perhaps not. It may come off as too elaborate. Too convenient."
"Too suspicious. They might think we turned you. And what would Moscow think?"
He laughs, "But who would believe tales of living liquid and bulletproof men?"
"You do," Emily responds. She's surprised by her own reaction. She quite likes Ivan's laugh. It at least cuts some of the tension. "Took you a while, but you came around."
"Yes," he admits. "I did not want to believe it. I wanted this all to have been a dream. But I can tell my masters a more palatable tale." Ivan looks at her for a moment, as if thinking about what to say next. "Who else knows about this?"
"Just you and me," she answers.
"And this was not your man's idea?"
"No."
"Is that true?"
Emily wonders how much he still believes she and Michael are more than friends. She has that ring, but Michael and Roger are not shy. And Ivan's not blind.
"I have been nothing but truthful to you," Emily says, trying to not sound like she's pleading. "Michael only promised Aleksandra her freedom. I plan to ensure it. In order for this to work, no one can know about this plan, not even her. At least, not until the time is right."
"So we will need to convince them that I will let Volkova go and help take down this HYDRA threat," Ivan lays out, "And convince my men that the original goal is still the main focus of our efforts."
She quirks a half smile, "Sorry for putting all the effort on you."
"Ah, don't worry about me, Miss Gower," Ivan retorts. "All I will have to do is omit a few details, and then we can stage a scene that will satisfy our needs."
"Plenty of ways to stage this. Desert, mountains, the ocean. There's a lot of ghost towns and abandoned mines. Quite cinematic locations. And enough ways to make a false death look real. There's no body, but these environments are so harsh she certainly couldn't have survived."
"And who do we cast for our leads in this little drama? Bogart and Bacall?"
Emily laughs, "How about Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman? Though we don't have the budget for them."
A silence falls between them. They've made a report, now that they're on the same page, but they both know the risks of this. A thousand ways for things to go wrong, and even if it's executed perfectly the paranoia and distrust in their worlds could easily blow up in their faces no matter what.
But then again, if they weren't prepared for that they never would have made it this far to begin with. She steps closer, sticking out her hand, "Do we have a deal, comrade?"
He regards her hand for a moment, then his eyes meet hers. Ivan keeps looking at her. Never leering. Never threatening. Just staring. Searching. Looking for something.
Finally, after a painful moment where she starts feeling rather foolish, Ivan leans forward and takes her hand. His grip is firm, yet gentle.
"It is the best for both of us, Miss Gower," he replies.
"Call me 'Emily', please. I sound like a governess when people use 'Miss Gower.'"
He smiles, with seeming sincerity. Nothing behind it. "We have an agreement, Emily."
The door opens and Roger sticks his head into the sitting room. She lets go of Ivan's hand as if she had scalded it. Roger's mouth opens to say something, then he looks between Emily and Ivan, and quickly changes to a mischievous grin. "I see Emily's gentle nursing seems to be taking effect," he declares.
"We will see. If I do not wake up tomorrow, you will likely know why," Ivan replies. Then he gives a quick glance to Emily, "Though I've come to find that Emily puts some thought behind her strikes. To get the desired results."
Roger gives Emily a teasing look, then adds, "Anyway, Peggy's brought us some treasure. Figure we should all go through it to plan our next steps. Care to join?"
"Can you stand up?" Emily asks Ivan cooly.
Again with the look. They all assess and test each other - they're spies after all - but this is different. It's so unguarded.
"Yes," Ivan answers as he looks into her eyes, "I will survive."
When Michael looks at her, it's like he sees a child he can't stand to see grow up. Dottie looks at Emily with mixed curiosity and child-like adoration - perhaps some confused lust, too. The others often give her sympathetic looks she finds degrading. The look Ivan gives is different. Familiar.
Why do you look at me like that? Like Edith used to?
Sue's only just met Dottie Underwood, so she doesn't want to be rude, but she can't help but keep her guard up around her. Perhaps she's picked up on ther others' own concern about the woman. It could be that she's learned from Jason, that Dottie is an unwitting host to one of the creatures Peggy and Michael had to fight the previous night. Or maybe it's simply the fact that Dottie seems so very cold. She's not guarded the way the Carters are, but secretive, and looks at you like she's mocking you with how much more she knows than you do. Her eyes are like glass, and remind her of the looks she got whenever a white lady would ask for her assistance at the Kensington - the ones that said "you're not a person, you're just a tool, and I'd discard you as soon as I'm done with you".
Still, Dottie can untangle HYDRA's political schemes as best as Sue can their scientific ones, so she's a necessary evil. Half the things she finds in the files she either already knows or just didn't have the context for, and once she's been supplied with that she's able to start outlining the entire network of espionage the team is dealing with. Despite her sickliness, Miss Underwood seems to come alive at the prospect of undermining Romulus and her plans.
At one point as they pin items to a blackboard, Dottie and Sue both reach for the same piece of paper. Sue recoils, trying not to let her anxiety show. Dottie just smiles. "It's alright sweetie, I don't bite." There's a pause. "Unless someone asks me to."
Sue grimaces, but fortunately it's Miss Gower to the rescue. "I'd prefer you don't bite anybody here, Aleksandra."
Dottie (Aleksandra? Lord knows what's true about these spies and their cover identities) makes a wicked smirk at Sue, but otherwise settles on one of the chairs. It's the first time she's obeyed an order without a snappy comeback.
"My apologies, she can be a little over eager," Miss Gower says to Sue. She sticks out her hand. "I'm Emily Gower."
"Sue Storm," she replies nervously. "I've been helping Jason with the science side of this whole mess - he's in the garage working on the Gamma Cannon." And she wishes he were if only so that she didn't feel so alone among the wolves, no matter how much she's been told they're on the same side.
Sue and Miss Gower are roughly the same height, and probably close in age. She's got a firm handshake and a pleasant enough greeting and voice. Low for her size, and calm; a little raspy, too. Her accent's strange; sort of Irish, but off. She has a weird air about her, too. Sue can't quite pin what it is. Perhaps it's the cat-like eyes. Or the fact that Miss Gower can so easily control Dottie. Just says a few words and Dottie's sitting in the corner glowering at the other Russian, who stares back with indifference.
"And this is the mysterious Comrade Ivan," Mr. Aubrey says, gesturing to the man.
"I am not that mysterious, Roger," the Russian replies. Then to Sue he introduces himself. "You can call me Ivan Petrovich."
"He's here for me," Dottie sneers.
"I have my orders," he says cooly.
Dottie looks like she's about to say or do something, when Miss Gower quietly, yet sharply says, "Not now, Dottie." To which she flops back in her seat like a petulant child told to stand in the corner.
The rest of the group come in; Mr. Carter's changed into dry clothes, and Miss Carter and Sousa hurriedly finish whatever whispered conversation they were having.
Mr. Stark and Mr. Wilkes come in, the former announcing to everyone, "Alright, Rose just called. They're all at the hospital and Samberly's being treated right now. We better get to business." He claps his hands together with excitement and turns to Dottie. "I hear you've got quite the story for us, Miss Underwood."
Dottie's grin goes cheshire, delighted to finally have an audience. She looks about the library, at the gathered people and piles of papers, maps with notes and tacked on pictures, the chalkboard full of calculations. The pieces are all here, now it is time to make sense of it. She leans back into the plush, leather armchair - she still wants to feel comfortable, after all. "You almost had it," she says with a hint of mockery, "but now that I'm here I can light the way for you. Agent Sousa!" she asks, making him flinch. "If you still have my notebook, please share it with the class."
Sousa pats his pockets before pulling out the precious book. "You want a look at this?" he asks Peggy.
She sighs, "Let's see what the mad ravings are."
"Oh ye of little faith. I just want to tell you a story. It is murky and twisting, but I have managed to untangle the history and desires of HYDRA and how it works hand in glove with this rotten nation. All I hope to do is bring clarity," Dottie begins. "Most intelligence analysts focus on the recent history of HYDRA, and who can blame them considering when they started. It's founding by Johann Schmidt, his allegiance with Baron Wolfgang von Strucker, the latter's connections to various fin de siècle occult organizations. His wife was friends with Madam Blavatsky after all. But what doesn't get attention, or is deliberately left out, is the American connection. Michael, do you still have that club pin?"
"I gave it to Peg. She went to the Arena club to get the documents," he replies.
Now it's Peggy's turn to rifle through her pockets before producing the Arena Club pin. "Forgot I had it in all the chaos."
Dottie gives a pained smirk and continues, "That pin is more important than just opening up a safe of secrets. It tells quite the story. For all the world, the symbol on the pin resembles a stylized 'A' for 'Arena', of course. But as you'll see in my notes, and likely in the letterhead of some of the correspondence, there's versions of it upside down. I discovered that wasn't by mistake. The original version of the symbol was a stylized goat's skull."
Peggy rolls her eyes, but she looks in the notebook anyway. Sure enough, there are photos of the pin and its predecessors stuffed between the pages, and the latter are rather caprine.
"Are you serious?" Stark asks, incredulous. "There's a lot of weird witchy stuff going on already, but that's just…"
"Satanic?" Sousa completes Stark's statement.
"Cliched, I know, but they like to provoke. And it clearly worked. The Arena club came by that honestly because a few of the founders had splintered from the Hellfire Club in New York. They, in turn, have their origins in some various and sundry secret societies from back in England - but that's not important today. Unlike their hedonistic brothers, the Council wanted something more spiritual and militant. They came to the other coast because California was rife with the two things they needed - business opportunities and like-minded opportunists. Ku Kluxers, certain Mormons, former Confederates, even some so-called Knights of the Golden Circle. What would become the Council of Nine attracted a certain type of man who felt himself… usurped. They believed that America was supposed to be ordered in a certain way and felt cheated, and that only they could correct the country's course."
Comrade Ivan sighs, "The usual suspects, yes?"
"Of course, Comrade!" Dottie answers with the false brightness of a teacher responding to a young (and not particularly bright) student. Unfortunately, Ivan Petrovich doesn't give her the satisfaction of so much as a scowl. Perhaps Emily soothed his nerves - they were in that room for a long time. But Dottie must focus. "The conspirators are America's landed gentry who will never be satisfied with how rich they are. But it is more complicated than that. There are fractures, and capitalists are naturally competitive."
The last statement she aims at Stark. He's an easy target. Too easy. Yet he responds in mock shock, mimicking an insulted rooster. But if Dottie can't get under the good comrade's skin, she will be the gadfly for someone else.
"I kid, Mr. Stark! You're one of the good ones!" she retorts.
At some point Angie had walked in, and now she moves to join Sue on the sidelines. "Are you following any of this?" she whispers.
"Just the science parts," Sue replies.
"Still a step ahead of me, then."
"Dottie, how exactly does this group tie into our current situation?" Peggy asks, pushing the interrogation along.
"Well," Dottie says, tilting her head, "This current incarnation was trying hard to finally do what had not been achieved: true dominance of the world. But they fell for the same trap. The Council of Nine was just the latest incarnation of this conspiracy, but they always overestimate their own abilities and underestimate their opponents. They show their hand too soon. They thought that Chadwick and Frost could be controlled."
"And Whitney Frost proved them wrong. With disastrous results," Peggy says with a raised brow.
"But no one who mattered saw that disaster," Sousa interjects. "And Frost was at odds with everyone in that group, including Chadwick. That's what got most of them killed. And she did prove that the Zero Matter could be contained and used."
"And now we've developed a way to better contain it, and at least a way to close a rift," Jason points out.
Dottie quirks an eyebrow. "Well, we'll see how that works out. But my main point has been: the Council was the latest incarnation of the many capitalist cabals that try to seize power in this country from the shadows - not that they truly needed to. But to do that they needed thugs…"
Ivan Petrovich mutters something in Russian, but is drowned out by Michael completing Dottie's thought. "That's where the relationship with HYDRA comes from. For various reasons, HYDRA needed connections in the Americas and, at least from what we learned from Dottie, the Council members could scratch their backs too. They had the right connections, influence, and their own South American ventures."
Dottie continues, "And with the Red Skull gone there was no one left to lead them, officially. Schmidt would never deign to appoint a successor. Baron von Strucker has emerged as a leader for HYDRA in exile. The Council was left thinking they could swoop in and use the remains of HYDRA as their attack dogs. HYDRA was willing to play along as long as they got something out of it."
"Hence the infighting," Peggy says. "So if I follow you correctly, HYDRA has managed to gain connections into some of the highest echelons of power in the United States through the Council of Nine. That gives them all the access to whatever they need to bring the Zero Matter here."
"It's more than that." Dottie corrects. "Far more than that. From everything I was told and from what I've seen, HYDRA has been taken over by the Americans who thought the type of men who made up the Council were holding them back. That they were too soft on communism. That their vision of the ideal American society was endangered by the inaction of the Council."
Peggy's reminded of something she heard in the Arena Club. Something Romulus said in her recording before the whole place exploded. We are trying to ensure that our descendants will be led into a golden age of progress and power. "They wouldn't have to get that high up in power, either. They just need to get into the right places." Dear lord, it's so simple. "The right advisor here. The right lawyer there. The right person to approve funding or cut a budget. Finding pupils who are amenable to the message."
"And in the meantime hold a living energy that could destroy the world over our heads," Michael adds.
"But they need the crown, first, right?" Emily says. She'd been sitting quietly the entire time, demurely disappearing into the background. Peggy almost forgot the other woman was there, sitting next to Roger on a settee, curled up in the corner like a cat. Patient and watchful. Conspicuously placing herself between Michael - who's leaning on the settee's back - and the Russian in an armchair.
"Of course," Roger replies.
"And did you get it?"
"Well…" Michael starts, "We thought it was there, at the steel works."
"Apparently Romulus and Chief Flynn were under the impression that your group had the crown," Peggy says, watching the other woman's reaction.
The stony mask gives away nothing as Roger adds, "Then those Zero Matter servitors attacked and… weren't they also calling out for the crown?"
"Yes, but they hardly gave us time to interrogate them. I recall they were adamant on ripping us apart," Michael replies.
"Though Manfredi did say something about Whitney…" Peggy says, trying to recall the fight at the steel mill. So many things had happened it's hard to remember what happened and when. "He kept saying 'she's gone' and 'it's here' until the Zero Matter swallowed him."
"She's the queen," Dottie says, her voice strangely flat. She looks up surprised, not expecting everyone to be staring at her. She flashes a wicked smile, "Sorry to disturb."
"You are right, though," Jason says, "Whatever she is now - Frost or Zero Matter or something that's both - it's been trying to draw me in."
"How would you know?"
"Got infected before you, I think." As he says it he feels Emily's Russian snap his gaze to him, eying him for any symptoms akin to Dottie's.
Emily gives Ivan a nudge, shakes her head, and gets up to examine the table and its piles of papers. "All the more reason to focus our efforts." She's about to review the papers when she sees one of the chalkboards. It's the list of Council of Nine members. All the names have been crossed. Except one. "Has anyone checked up on Hugh Jones?"
"No," Sousa answers. "Far as we can tell he's been keeping a low profile since the Frost stuff happened."
"Actually, he's been associating with Romulus for the past few weeks," Michael says.
"How'd you learn about that?" Peggy asks.
"Walked in and asked," Roger drawls. To the raised brows, he adds, "We pretended to be business reps for van Lundt and got an audience. Emily and Dottie snuck in and got us a collection of his documents on film."
Emily holds up a stack of photographed documents.
"Ran into Cassandra Romulus there too. She seemed to be in the middle of a land deal," Michael adds.
Howard speaks up, "Isodyne has oil fields all over the southwest. Valuable ones that Jones has been wanting for years."
"Most of the activity was going to South America, right?" Peggy asks.
"There was something," Emily says, flipping through the papers. "It wasn't Isodyne selling land to Roxxon. Both companies were parties to a land deal."
Sousa turns to Emily. "Before we get ahead of ourselves, are you saying that Hugh Jones has this crown?"
"It's a guess. Just based on who's left standing," Emily answers. "And if I remember correctly, out of all those companies involved with this mess, Brand, Isodyne, and Roxxon were the most involved. Everyone seems to be under the impression the other had the crown, it wasn't at the Council's headquarters, and it certainly wasn't at Isodyne. The last man standing is Jones -"
"- And he's completely flown under Romulus' radar," Peggy finishes the thought.
Emily adds, "But not for long. Especially when Romulus realizes she's been had."
"So he needs the crown for leverage. Or a mea culpa. He's clever enough to know when not to fight."
"And now you're up to speed."
Emily doesn't mean to sound insolent, she just finds the proceedings slow. At least Peggy has the grace to not comment (though she does shoot an icy glare her way) and Emily returns to searching for that contract. "Here it is."
She produces a stack of photos, their copies from the visit to Jones' Malibu estate. "Most of the documents we found pertained to the moving of HYDRA assets south, to Panama mostly. Peru did come up quite a bit. But this is different. It's for a big piece of real estate in New Mexico; just Washington, Roxxon, and Isodyne involved, too."
"What's the date on that?" Jason asks.
"Last year," Emily checks the photos. "May of 46."
"That was two months after the Zero Matter appeared."
"Where exactly did it appear?" Ivan asks, making everyone turn. He'd been so quiet he all but disappeared into the background.
Wilkes answers, "Very briefly in Europe during the war. And later Isodyne was conducting experiments out in… New Mexico. In a testing area that's part of Fort Bliss. It created a rift that let it in."
Realization starts to dawn on all of them. "Emily, that contract lists the county this land is in, right?" Michael slowly asks, carefully choosing his words.
"Otero County."
Ivan gets up from his chair and starts browsing Stark's bookshelves.
"What are you looking for?" Roger asks.
"Maps. An atlas," he replies. Then turns to Stark, saying, "You are a rich man, you must have something like that."
"Of course I do," Stark replies with an edge of annoyance in his voice. "I'm sure I do."
"I thought Jarvis was in charge of that?" Peggy snarks, trying not to smirk.
"I love you, Peg. But please, not right now."
Ivan does find his quarry, an atlas of the continental United States. He flips through the pages to a topographical map of southeastern New Mexico, then lays the book down on the paper strewn desk. "It would be best to have a county map to better explain, but this talk of the contract reminded me of something I was shown." He manages to find a pencil among the clutter. He must be careful about his next words. "I was passing through Alamogordo a few weeks ago -"
"On your way to assassinate me? Or someone else?" Volkova asks, barely concealing her wrath.
"Irrelevant," Ivan replies dismissively. "As I was saying, I was in Alamogordo with an acquaintance. He took me to a ridge at the very south end of the forest that overlooked a desert valley." He draws a small, rough triangle of the area Dan Kane had shown him. "I saw a large construction area. Many buildings, some built into the hillsides. I do not know what it is for, but I do know that it is relatively close to the army base at White Sands."
There's a pause, as if they were trying to digest the new information. Put the pieces together. Finally see what the big picture is.
"So to sum up," Michael says, breaking the silence, "HYDRA has now inherited all of Isodyne's property and holdings, including this plot of land in the desert. The same place that the Zero Matter came from, and who knows how that would affect their… extraction efforts for lack of a better term. Or whatever she's looking for, anyway."
Peggy continues, "But they still need a crown, and all signs point to Hugh Jones. He also has enough resources to see this project to completion - for now. But if she can, Romulus could bump off Jones to take over the whole place. If she and HYDRA gain control of that land, they can open rifts to their heart's content."
"That still leaves the question of Whitney Frost," Sousa brings up. "Those Zero Matter zombies at the steel mill weren't under HYDRA's control. Her and Flynn's goons seemed just as surprised as we were when they attacked."
"Dottie, you said that she's 'the queen now'. Do you mean like a queen bee?" Peggy asks.
Sue shudders, but Dottie replies with a blunt, "Yes."
Emily looks down at the triangle Ivan drew on the atlas page. The thought of something returning to its point of origin plays in her mind. Emily still feels her sire's attention, his presence, his desires. Not frequently, but enough. There's a draw to the entity. And the place…
Deep in the maze of islands that makes up Tierra del Fuego, the Invaders had hunted down Elisa Sinclair - the last of the Red Skull's priestesses. She had one of the crowns and tore open a rift herself. It was short lived, thank God, but a hell of a fight. There was something important about that place, beyond being a hideaway. It was a place of power. Of holiness, in a twisted fashion. And perhaps that's it.
"She's trying to draw back her wayward drones," she says confidently. "And bringing them all back to where they first arrived." An image in her head of a dark rift open over dunes. "That's the answer, right?" Emily asks, more to the room than anyone else.
"Perhaps," Wilkes replies.
"It makes sense," Dottie adds.
"More importantly, it is isolated," Ivan adds. "One road in, and one road out. Surrounded on three sides by mountains, and that is before considering the desert terrain and climate."
"It's a possible end state," Peggy says, looking over at Emily, "but nothing is written. Yet. Jones is still the better lead. If our comrade is right -" Peggy points at Ivan, "and the construction site he saw matches what's described in that contract, then that facility is nowhere near ready for this whole Zero Matter business. You can't do massive projects on a tight schedule like you could during the war and he knows that. Hence taking the crown to a safe location after Whitney took out most of the Council of Nine. A place he would have complete control over."
"You're right, Peg," Michael adds, starting to pace. "If the hypothesis is right, the likely locations being the Roxxon refinery, the offices downtown, Jones' estate -"
"It's the refinery in Long Beach," Stark says. "Even if he doesn't fully understand what he's dealing with, Jones isn't stupid enough to hide the crown in his own backyard. That's just asking for trouble. He doesn't have a separate research campus like me or Isodyne, he likes to have a lab at all the main production facilities. Port Arthur in Texas, Cotton Valley in Louisiana, and Long Beach right here."
"So the ball's in Romulus' court, then," says Michael.
Peggy nods "And she probably sees the same play we do, which means Jones doesn't have a lot of time left to act."
"If the crown's at stake, she'll be bringing every triggerman on the payroll with her," Sousa says. "Even with this unit's, er, capabilities…we'd easily be outnumbered."
"Looks like you're up to bat, comrade," Peggy says. "Do you have a plan?"
The room turns to Ivan expectantly.
"My men will come. They know where we are. Howard Stark is an easy man to find," Ivan answers with a shrug.
"Should we be worried?" Michael asks. He and the English woman, Peggy, look so much alike, he could swear they are siblings. It would be quite the coincidence if they were not.
"They know enough from last night. They understand that this danger is of HYDRA origins and that it poses an existential threat to us all."
"And if they run?" Peggy asks.
"They run. They understand the consequences if they do." He knows they think he's bluffing. He hopes they're not proven right. Emily's plan hangs in the balance. So many things must go right for this to work. Ivan thinks he's doing all of this to humour the girl. Wilkes seems to be mostly free of his infection, but he doubts Volkova will last long.
"I'll believe it when I see it," Michael replies.
"You think I need a chaperone."
"Yes," Peggy says. "As far as I can tell, you're out to kill Dottie. Yet you've also become our guest…or maybe a hostage." Ivan notes how the last sentence wasn't addressed to him, but at Emily.
"A guestage!" Dottie quips. "It's not so bad, you'll get used to it."
"I'll go with him, then," Emily speaks up. "I brought him here, he's my responsibility."
"Thank you for the offer, Gower, but you've done enough for today." Peggy's denial comes with acidic politeness.
"Peg, that's not fair," Roger balks, seemingly shocked by the sudden pettiness.
"They at least know my face," Emily retorts, voice firm and cold. Trying to maintain her composure in the face of shear confusion. "Begging pardon, but they wouldn't know you from Adam, ma'am. What do you think, Michael?"
Michael hesitates, running his hand through his hair - not looking at her - before giving his answer. "Look, Em, let's be reasonable. It's been a hard day and I know you've had a particularly rough twenty-four hours." To Ivan, he adds, "I cocked up the meeting at Griffith Park, I should at least show my face to your men. It's the least I could do."
"Emily can vouch for you." Ivan replies, clearly not making a suggestion.
"And she seems to vouch for you as well," Peggy says to Ivan. "If they're not already on their way here, call your men up. Michael and I will be present to ensure our interests. I want no funny business, do I make myself clear?"
"Yes. I perfectly understand. There will be no betrayals from my side," Ivan answers coldly.
"I hope you can back that up, for all our sakes."
"Well I, for one, would much prefer to sit down and have a cup of tea," Roger declares, stretching out on the settee.
Peggy arches a brow, "You're already lounging."
"But I can sip tea, watch Dot, and lounge. I am a man of many skills and abilities."
"We'll just sit around and gossip about all of you!" Dottie adds with snide brightness.
Peggy lets out an exasperated sigh. "Fine! You're all so incorrigible anyway." She turns to Howard. "I think it's best if you stay behind. You know you're no good in a firefight if that's what it comes to."
"You don't have to tell me twice," Howard replies. He looks over to Angie. "Come on doll, I'll show you around the place."
Angie grins as she takes his hand, shooting Peggy a quick look of exhilaration before disappearing around the corner.
Then Sue walks up to Peggy. "If it's alright with you Miss Carter, I'd rather stay behind too. After what happened with Samberly, I don't think I'm ready to be part of your world."
"Consider yourself lucky," Peggy says sympathetically, squeezing the younger woman's shoulder. "If there's anything we need from you or Jason we'll radio in."
Sue nods and walks away, breathing a sigh of relief.
Peggy leans back and takes in the room now that the players know their parts. Ivan's moved to the phone, Sousa and Michael keeping an eye on him. Roger's wasted no time in moving next to Dottie and engaging in hushed and scandalous conversation. That just leaves Emily, who's levelling the same look that Peggy's had back at her, no doubt thinking the exact same thing.
Can I trust you? Will I regret it? What do you mean to him?