Ascent

Chapter Text

Bond pushed Jechul up the stairs. "Why are we going this way?" she asked for what seemed like the ninth time, and Bond said again, "Because this is where our ride is meeting us." The woman reached the top of the steps, looked quizzically at the security door, then back at Bond.

"Go," he told her, and then the access door behind him swung open, slamming the concrete wall.

"Stop! Stop now!" Peart shouted slightly breathlessly, a Sig P6 automatic held in a solid two-handed grip and pointing at the center of Bond's spine. "Don't even fucking try and get out of here!"

"Sorry, but we've got someone waiting for us," Bond said easily. Peart's eyes narrowed. He was sweating into the collar of his suit.

"You're not going anyplace," he huffed.

"We are, I'm afraid. We are. Right now two RGB agents are down in your private subway. Consider them a consolation prize—if you think you can hold them."

"I can't let you walk out of here, Bond!"

"You haven't a choice. Your plan is dead. Your operation is blown. You've got North Korean operatives in your escape route and hired guns waiting for you outside the venue." Seeing the look of confusion fall over him, Bond explained what Judy had told him.

"They've got orders to kill everyone who met up at the consulate. That's O'Hare, me…and you. I'd suggest you take care of that first. Because even if you somehow convinced me to hand Ms. Jechul over to you, you wouldn't get a meter outside the theater before they took you out."

"But…the consulate…"

"They're onto you, Peart!" Bond snapped, growing annoyed. "They compromised the consulate's security. Once you ingratiated yourself to Ms. O'Hare to try and get the girl, you exposed yourself to them. So, you see, you've got more immediate problems than one defector."

The gun slowly dropped, until it was pointing at the ground, but Peart still glared at Bond with an expression of pure hate. "No," he spat. "She's coming with me!"

"She's not. She never was. Maybe you thought she was when you wrapped O'Hare around your finger, but once I entered the picture that calculus changed. Now, you can shoot me if you wish, but it doesn't change the fact that she will not be leaving here tonight with you. You've been outmaneuvered."

Peart huffed through his nose, hands gripping the gun so tightly they became white, as pride and self-preservation battled in his mind. Finally, self-preservation won out, and he threw Bond one last, murderous look before he spun and ran through the door he had just entered.

"I'd say the man re-evaluated his priorities," Bond told Jechul, then joined her at the top of the steps. They exited to the rooftop into a solid wall of freezing-cold wind and a the heavy, driving chop of helicopter rotor blades. The sky was a vast, gunmetal canvas that dimly reflected the lights of the city in smudgy neon, and glittering snow flurries whipped all around them. Bond pulled off his suit jacket and wrapped it around Jechul's shoulders as he guided her around a series of HVAC compressors to a long, flat stretch of roof where a later-model Dauphin helicopter idled, kicking up a small blizzard around its running lights.

"What is this?" Jechul paused and looked quizzically at Bond.

"Our ride," he shouted over the thunderous noise of the rotor and pushed her toward the helo. "Mind your head." They climbed aboard into a mercifully heated cabin and soft, plush seats. Bond helped buckle Jechul in, then took care of his own belt. Then the helo floated lightly off the pad and proceeded, nose-down away from the building, gradually climbing until the cityscape fell away beneath them. Bond found a set of headphones hanging near the doorframe and pulled them on. Jechul found hers and did the same.

"You pulled out all the stops for us," Bond told the pilot. She turned and gave him a smile. Her curls had been pulled back in a partially successful ponytail, which puffed out like a poodle's tail.

"It's the executive bird," she explained. "Thought you'd want to go in style."

"Who are you?" Jechul asked suddenly.

"Jechul, this is Mechelle, formerly of Lebanese Armed Forces. She now gives helicopter tours around New York. We got to chat a bit yesterday."

"You're welcome," Mechelle said. "The tourism company pays better than the army ever did, but not as much fun. Not many RPGs headed our way—even in Red Hook."

"I don't understand," Jechul looked from Mechelle's fluffy ponytail to Bond and back. "Where are we going?"

"Canada," Bond said lightly. "Ottawa. Mechelle's going to drop us off. Some officials from the High Commission will meet us there and formally grant you asylum in the UK. You'll be safe."

"But what about the Americans? Surely, they will want me back."

"Canada has a unique relationship with the UK. As close as they are with the Americans, they're still one of our children. They won't betray that relationship."

Jechul stared at him. "Then…it's done?"

Bond nodded. "The CIA and RGB are dealing with their respective messes in that building, they're not even thinking of looking for you, and they're certainly not looking in Canada. It's done. Welcome to the West."

Jechul's blinked, eyes glittering with tears. "Thank you…I don't…why would you…"

Bond gestured to her window. "You should enjoy the view before we leave it behind." Jechul turned and looked through the window as the big helicopter arced over the Island of Manhattan, aiming north to freedom.

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