Chapter 13
Family Reunion Pt. 2
I
1976
She was the only one at the funeral, save for the cemetery employees. Though the military paid for all the standard accoutrements a veteran should receive upon death, he had not one friend from his time in WWII.
No surprise to her.
The slow-falling rain running down her face might have been confused for tears. But she felt nothing on this day. Neither sadness nor joy. Perhaps the merciless beatings instilled a tragically cold view of the world, or perhaps she just didn't know how to feel.
Or maybe this was justice: not a tear shed for the abuser, nor a tap dance on the grave of the man who raised her during times through which he could barely keep himself alive, let alone his daughter.
Whatever it was, Diane didn't have time to dwell on herself. She would be late for her afternoon job (a newly-orphaned teenager needed an income, after all) if she stayed past the 21-gun salute. But as she crossed the street outside the cemetery entrance, she was greeted by a stick-thin man of average height in a black suit with a '50s bowler hat and pitch-black sunglasses.
"'Scuse me, ma'am."
"Pardon me, sir," she replied, continuing her stride, "I'm running late."
"Diane Beckman, is it not?"
She stopped on a dime, turning cautiously to the man. "Yes?"
He spoke quickly, in a near-whisper. "I'm with the Agency. Joseph Landsmen." He flashed an ID card. "I worked with your father, and from what my agency has observed, we were wondering if you would be interested in a more in-depth conversation in the coming days, when you have time of course." He pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to the young woman. "We cannot promise anything, but there just might be a stable, well-paying career in store for you. That is, if you are willing to serve your country, ma'am."
Diane took the card, looked at her watch, and swiftly bid the mysterious gentleman adieu.
II
Robin walked into Julia's hospital room: the same one the pair had exited the previous morning. "Home, sweet home," she observed with a weak smile – the most she could force in this situation.
Julia returned a death stare.
The smile evaporated. Robin started fidgeting, putting one arm up to her bandaged ear (out of which she still could barely hear), and rubbed her neck nervously with the other. "I s'pose you'd rather be back at your real home, huh."
No response, but Robin felt like she might spontaneously combust from the anger radiating from the bed to which Julia's remarkably well-healed body was cuffed.
"Well… you're lookin a lot… ugh," Robin sighed and gave up the happy façade. "Look, I…" she found herself struggling to say what she had earnestly meant. "I want to… get you out of here… really, I do… but—"
Julia spoke slowly, with ferocity. "Your government did not spend their time and risk their agents to save my life just to up and release me. You and I both know you're still using me. Well, I've got news for you, asshole: I'm not letting anyone put an Intersect in my head. You wanna put me in a do-or-die situation? I won't hesitate, but I swear to god, I'm taking as many pathetic government scumbags as I can with me. Starting with you."
Robin thought for a moment. She understood Julia's frustration, the fact that she couldn't trust her… she wasn't sure she could ever gain her asset's trust again.
But she had to try.
"The Director… didn't want anyone to save you," she finally replied. "I had to go over her head to the president, team up with someone I'd never even heard of bef—"
"Oh my god," Julia snarked in frustration, "why would I care? This isn't a debate, and you don't get any brownie points for rescuing me after roping me into all of this. Because of you, I've been shot twice and literally blown up. You feeling guilty about that? Take it to a therapist. Get the hell out of here."
Robin sighed, stood up, and approached the door. She looked at the camera, still busted on the wall. Then she turned back around. "I don't want to be here either," she blurted out, throwing her hands up. "The CIA, the government… I don't want any part of it anymore." Julia was suspicious, but, sensing honesty (or maybe just resigned to the fact that she couldn't stop her), let her captor continue. "My whole life I've been looking for someone I can trust. Someone who can bring me some modicum of safety and security. God knows I got none of that at the orphanage. Then the CIA came along. They promised me everything I wanted in life. All they asked for was obedience. 'Serve your country,' they said.
"Then they lied to me. They told me my parents were some dead no-names. But it turns out, that spy who joined me to rescue you? Stark? She's my mother. This whole time…. This whole fucking time.
"The CIA deceived me on the plan to take down the Guardians. Just like you. They told us both there'd be a rescue op. Then they left you to die.
"And now, the one person who did actually wanna get you out of there? Yeah, you're right: he wants an Intersect in your head. STILL. After ALL THIS BULLSHIT.
"I'm done with it all. I'm going to find a way to get the hell out of here myself. And I'm getting out too, whether you believe me or not. We don't have a lot of time," she continued, approaching the bed to uncuff her asset. "I took out the camera in my room, so the moment they—"
CRASH. The light fixture in the bathroom plummeted to the floor, startling the duo, who watched Stark slip gracefully down from the hole above it.
Stark put her finger to her lips (perhaps a pointless gesture given how loud her entrance was), then slowly peered past the door to the smashed remains of the security camera. Confirming their privacy, she stepped to the younger women. "Can you walk?" She asked Julia. "We're getting the two of you out of here."
"Is that so, mom?" Robin retorted.
For the second time today, Stark was struck temporarily speechless.
"You slipped when we were getting treated. Called me 'Rachel.' Don't ask me how I remembered that name," she added, fighting back tears and failing to regulate the volume of her voice, "but I did."
Stark did a worse job holding her tears back. "…Rachel… I—I'm so—"
She put out her arm, but her daughter pulled back. "My name's Robin."
"Okay," Stark painfully conceded. "Um… well, look, first thing's first, we need to find a way to get all of us out of here. Beckman's working to get Betelgeuse out with us, but aside from escaping through air ducts and waiting till Shaw's impeached, we don't have much of a plan."
"Why would we go with you," Robin asked flatly, picking up some of Julia's snark; "are we supposed to trust you after the way you lied to me?"
Without warning, Beckman slipped into the room, further startling the trio and leading Stark to reach for the second time today for an invisible weapon.
"We don't have much time; do you have anything?" Beckman directed Stark.
"Right on cue," Julia scoffed, "the old bitch at the center of all this."
Stark turned to face Julia. "Hey: the Director and I may have our differences but there is no excuse for that sort of invective."
"No, she has a point," Robin countered, perhaps hoping to score some sympathy points.
"Bite me," was Julia's thanks.
"Oh would you three just shut up? We don't have time for this! I just dosed Betelgeuse with Tetrodotoxin and got him in an ambulance in the parking lot. But—"
"Do you really think the President's gonna fall for that again?" Robin interjected.
"No," She spelled out sarcastically. "Which is why we need to hurry. The three of you need to get into that vehicle, off CIA grounds, and as far away as possible before he finds out. That might be doable, but not if you don't shut the hell up and work with me!
"Stark, I need you to uncuff Miss Roberts," she continued, tossing the cuff keys and adding with a look at Julia's red-hot stare, "and if you could keep her from killing me the moment she's freed, that would help a lot."
Stark complied, and to Julia's credit, she was pretty calm about the process. So much so, Stark decided to let her guard down a tad.
It was the opening Julia needed.
WHACK.
CRASH.
Beckman went down, hand over her eye.
Perhaps even Stark thought it was appropriate, because no one expressed particular concern for the elderly Director. But after some difficulty, Beckman stood back up.
"So," Julia continued with a satisfied sigh. "We need a plan, eh?"
The cathartic sock to the face seemed to wash away the tension in the room, because suddenly, the whole group started working together.
"Getting out of here means nothing if we don't have a way to get off the CIA's radar," Robin started.
Stark filled them in. "Betelgeuse can get himself and the three of us set up with new, untraceable identities while we wait out the Impeachment proceedings. We just have to get to his cabin."
"Surely they'll be watching it."
"Not yet," Beckman answered, hand still over her blackened eye. "The stubborn fool was too concerned about the budget to put agents on that place – at least, before yesterday. Since then, his resources have been… constrained, to put it simply."
"The government doesn't want a terrorist using their military," Stark surmised.
"Suspected terrorist, indeed. Nevertheless, I would imagine he still has some reach – a few friends, maybe a couple Guardians he kept quiet about for blackmail purposes, who knows. Point is, the moment he realizes you're gone, he'll do whatever he can to take the cabin."
"How much of a head start can we get?" Robin wondered.
I had the ambulance parked in front of a ventilation gate; it should create a blind spot for you to pile in—"
"Had?"
"I couldn't very well get Betelgeuse's body out myself, so I used a Friendly. You'll recognize him, but it's not important right now. With him behind the wheel, you should be able to exit the facility without issue. Then it's just a matter of getting as much distance as possible. I'll try to keep Shaw distracted, but when he finds out you're gone, he'll know I'm involved.
"Best I can promise is a few hours. Assuming he's not stupid enough to further draw attention to himself with an air assault, in which case it's game over."
"We can't stay in the ambulance," Julia announced. Her assistance in the planning surprised everyone, and in turn, their undivided attention surprised her. "I mean, it's not like they won't figure out what we're driving in. Shaw himself could just report it stolen or something."
"You've got a point," Stark replied. "I have an SUV stowed in – well, north of the city. It's clean, so as long as no one sees us get in, we should be safe."
"Sounds like you've got your plan. Stark, the weapons we confiscated from you are in the ambulance. If there's nothing else, I've been in here too long already.
"Oh, one last thing," Beckman turned at the door to face the three women. "I'd better not see you three again before this is over. Or else we're all screwed."
She slipped out of the room – running face-to-face into an inferior.
"Director!" the agent nervously greeted. "Agent Miller's disengaged her security camera. I was sent to check—"
"She takes after her asset," Beckman covered suavely. "I have spoken individually to both. They're fine, though I don't think they wish to have visitors at the moment," she added, gesturing to her eye.
Alarmed, the agent reached for his service weapon. "Should we—" he started, but was stopped by a firm hand from the Director.
"The last thing we want to do is further upset these two; remember, they are both key Government assets.
"You're welcome to station an officer of your command outside these rooms, but please, give these women some privacy after the ordeal they've been through."
Beckman watched the agent cautiously walk away. Then when the coast was clear, she gave a hefty sigh. Just a moment later and this would have all been for naught.
She wondered how much more of this she could take.
III
"Can we stop?" Robin whispered just a few meters into their trek. She was breathing heavily.
"We have to keep moving," Stark responded emotionlessly, continuing her crawl.
"Yeah… but—" she panted.
While large enough to fit each of the three women, the air ducts were not exactly spacious. That, coupled with Robin's position in between Stark at the lead and Julia behind, produced quite a claustrophobic effect on the anxious agent.
"We have plenty of time," Julia calmly countered, doubtless noticing Robin's efforts to regulate her own breathing. "If one extra minute made the difference, we wouldn't have a chance anyway."
Stark finally realized the situation and stopped. She felt guilty: she hadn't even noticed how badly her daughter was hyperventilating, and she didn't know how to respond to it, either. Twenty years away had more than stunted whatever parental education she had.
Finally, she managed to give some weak words of encouragement: "I've done this sort of thing a ton before; it's scary at first, but you have nothing to be afraid of. We'll be out of here in no time."
Fortunately for everyone else, Robin was stubborn: she hated being seen as weak, so while Stark's words didn't exactly fill her with encouragement, they did redirect her emotional state toward obstinate determination. In such a state, the group managed the rest of the way without stopping.
Through the exit grate, Stark could see the back of the ambulance completely obstruct the low midday sun; one door hung ajar, just barely open enough for her to see the body bag hiding Betelgeuse. Slowly to avoid audible detection, Stark unscrewed three screws holding the grate closed, letting them fall noiselessly to the snow-dusted blacktop. The fourth she used as a pivot to swing the giant metal rectangle around, opening the ventilation shaft without letting the large object clang to the ground.
Swiftly, and with a huge sigh from Robin, the trio filed out of the cramped quarters and into the back of the ambulance. The driver turned around from his seat to greet them: "Thank god, I was worried you were gonna be—"
But before he could finish his sentence, an on-edge Robin snagged a gun from the bag of weapons confiscated from Stark and trained it at his head.
"HEY!" Stark snapped.
"WHOA!" The driver put his hands up.
Robin started hyperventilating again, while Stark searched the bag for a taser to subdue her. "No!" Robin shouted. "He's…" She could barely find words.
Unlike the young agent, Julia was remarkably calm through this whole situation. She put herself between all of Stark, Robin, and the driver and explained the situation. "He's one of the two agents who escorted us to the Intersect room the other day. Hernandez, right?" She didn't wait for an answer. "The other one was a Guardian who tried to kill me. But this one—"
"Agent Ling killed my mother," Agent Hernandez called out from behind Julia, choking up a bit. "When I found out about… the Guardians or whatever… I told the Director I'd do everything I can to stop the President."
Robin's mind cleared a little, but she was still unconvinced. "So, what – you're just gonna believe him? After what his partner did to you?"
Julia would never forget the terror Agent Ling had put her through. But here, she just shrugged. After all the times she had been told "you don't have a choice" in the last week, she never would have imagined she'd be the one saying it. "If he's not trustworthy, we're fucked anyway."
Robin thought for a moment, further calming down, but still refusing to lower the weapon.
Finally, Stark pulled Julia away from her line of sight. "Can we go now? Or do I have to tase you?"
The shock of this threat took Robin off guard, giving Stark the opportunity to snatch her weapon back.
"Are we done?" Hernandez asked, more annoyed than agitated. After watching Stark shut the ambulance door, he added: "Stay low until I say the coast is clear." And without another word, they were off.
Robin and Julia laid under benches on opposite sides of the vehicle, while Stark hid in the shadows behind the driver. When Hernandez signed out at the gate, the only thing visible to the security officer was Betelgeuse's body bag.
IV
The day had almost entirely passed by the time President Shaw called Director Beckman into his office. He was disheveled, wearing yesterday's suit (with an added untreated coffee stain), eyes baggy, voice strained – yet ferocious. "So," he seethed the moment Beckman closed the door behind her, "you pulled one on me." His right arm propped up his chin while his left twitched and fiddled like a teenager after their first ever cup of coffee.
The Director walked slowly toward him, feigning confusion. "What are you talking about?"
Shaw balled his fist, slammed it on the Resolute Desk, and held it there, desperately suppressing whatever violent instincts flowed through him. After what felt like minutes, he sighed angrily, speaking delicately for his own temperament's sake. "I haven't slept in two days, but I will not rest until I find them. And don't you think I don't know exactly where they're going. Your little ruse has done nothing but cost all of them but Julia their lives, not to mention… not to mention what little remains of the trust I had in you." To the last point, Shaw sounded… almost heartbroken.
Beckman threw off the veneer, speaking with remorse for someone she did indeed still love. "Martin, give it a rest. As it stands, you will walk out of this a free man. But if you go after them, you'll lose everything. They'll put you in prison for the rest of your life, and the Vice President sure as hell isn't going to risk her political future to pardon you.
"Why don't we both just give it up? Resign now, go home, and live the rest of our lives in peace. Together."
Shaw scoffed. He couldn't believe how stupid the Director sounded just then. "Diane, with all due respect, I'm tired of your manipulative bullshit. Why would I quit now, when I've only just begun?" Without waiting for a response, he pressed the button on his intercom. "Let him in."
In an instant, a large, middle-aged and thoroughly buff man entered the room. "Agent, place the Director under private confinement."
"What? You can't do this!" Beckman tried to shake the agent's grip, but it was rock solid. "The Intelligence Community won't stand for this."
"Don't worry, Diane. I'll let you out when this is all over. Then we can live the rest of our lives together. As Gods."
As the Director was forcibly removed from the room, she defiantly shouted, "nothing you do will ever bring your brother ba—" before the door shut behind her.
Shaw gave a maniacal cackle. "Maybe," he said to himself, "but it sure will be fun."