40.
London, United Kingdom
March 17th, 1944
After the events of the Midnight Oil release, Colonel Phillips quickly calls that every person within the SSR base, no matter if they are an agent or Captain America himself, must be subjected to some form of test or interrogation in an attempt to find whoever leaked the existence of Howard's blueprints. Peggy is tested first and cleared, sitting in one of the small isolation cells within the base as Colonel Phillips tests her, asking her questions regarding her knowledge of the project. She passes, of course, with flying colours, before testing the Colonel. With the both of them cleared, they're able to test everyone else in the facility.
Everyone is given a date and a time with a ten-minute window to be tested. The Commandos are tested first in order to quickly clear their names in case the press gets a whiff of the story and the damage that has unfolded. They're all scheduled within the hour, so the Commandos stand outside the temporary interrogation room, one of the laboratory testing rooms Howard rarely uses. It's one without a window or a speaker, so they can't see or hear what's going on inside and won't know what the questions will be. They know, though, that Peggy is currently questioning Howard about the incident since he entered the room less than five minutes ago.
"So, what kind of test do we have to do?" Morita asks for possibly the fifteenth time that morning.
"A polygraph test," Steve repeats, again for the fifteenth time, with the same amazing amount of patience he had the first time.
"A lie detector test," Isabel expands.
"Or in other words, the tests that never work," Dugan mutters.
"They work," Gabe insists.
"And if they don't, Agent Carter scares the person so terribly that they confess as they wet themselves," Monty adds helpfully.
The Commandos know enough about polygraph tests to know that they usually involve asking a number of questions along with several that are irrelevant to the matter under investigation but allow the interviewer to test whether the person is lying and their reaction to questions. Therefore, they're expecting some odd questions, unrelated to the topic. None of them are worried, though, because they know they're innocent.
Howard steps out of the room, looking a little upset, and Peggy walks up to the door with a clipboard of names in her hand.
"James?" She calls before walking back inside the room.
At once, Bucky, Monty, Dernier and Morita stand. They look at each other and laugh.
"Your name is Jacques, sit down," Morita berates Jacques, pushing the Frenchman to sit.
"Jacques is French for James," Gabe offers.
"That doesn't count!"
"You go by Bucky, clearly Peggy didn't mean you," Monty tells Bucky.
"Oh really, Monty? We're going there?" Bucky challenges.
"Clearly she meant me," Morita adds.
"Really, Jim?"
"So many James'," Isabel whispers to Steve, watching them all rally back and forth to each other.
"Barnes!" Peggy yells through the open door, her voice full of humour at their squabble.
Bucky walks over to the door and looks inside. "You know I hate being called James, Peg," he whines as he shuts the door behind himself.
Bucky emerges a few minutes later with a small smile on his face and a red lipstick stain on his cheek. Steve taps his own cheek to indicate it and Bucky wipes it off with the back of his hand, smearing it further.
"Isabel?" Peggy suddenly calls, looking up from the board and smiling at Isabel.
Isabel stands from her seat and walks past Peggy into the room, the door closing beind her. Peggy sits inside on one side of a small table, the polygraph box sitting on top of it. Isabel sits on the other side. Peggy runs through the reasoning for the test, what the test will entail, the questions she'll be asking, and then asks Isabel if she has any questions.
"No, none," Isabel says.
Peggy then proceeds to attach several monitors to Isabel that will measure several physiological indicators – blood pressure, pulse, respiration, and skin conductivity. There are four sheets on the lie detector and four needles to score the paper with the results.
"Even though you have an alibi as you were with me, I'm doing this by the book for everyone," Peggy explains. "We'll start with the card control test, which is used to show that lying on the test will provoke a reaction from the polygraph," Peggy explains, switching on the machine. The needles begin to move immediately in a zig zag along the paper. "You will tell a lie on the question I am about to ask you, answering only with yes or no." Peggy holds up a card with a cartoon picture of a black cat on it. "Is the animal on this card a cat?"
"No," Isabel says immediately.
The needles spike on the page, moving from their usual pattern as she lies. Isabel's eyebrows rise.
"It's important that you understand that the lie detector test will be able to pick up a lie. If you as the subject are telling the truth, you will be willing to co-operate, and the instrument will show that you are telling the truth. If you are lying, the machine will disclose the fact, and then you will be so informed and asked for an explanation," Peggy explains. "That's fair enough, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Now, I'll ask you a set of questions which you are to answer truthfully by yes or no." Isabel takes a second to prepare herself and then nods to Peggy to continue. "Have you ever been called "Belle"?" Peggy asks. It's a question Peggy knows the answer to, but for someone who may be a criminal, they may have several aliases they're keeping track of.
"Yes."
"Did you stay in London last night?"
"Yes."
"Do you know who created the Midnight Oil gas?"
"Yes."
"Did you ever smoke?"
"Yes."
Another known question. Isabel knows that these questions, which Peggy herself knows the answer to, are a demonstration that some subjects test the efficacy of the lie-detector by deliberately lying on irrelevant questions. If they are not called to task about such a lie, which may well be so if the answer of the irrelevant questions is not assuredly known, the examiner will encounter much greater difficulties in obtaining an admission based upon the examiner's accusation of lying regarding the crime itself.
"Do you know what the project is?" Peggy continues.
"Yes."
"Are you aware of the effect of the gas has on the human body?"
"Yes."
"Did you give or sell information regarding the project or its location to any member of the Axis powers, or to Hydra?"
"No."
"Have you ever been in contact with any member of Hydra except when on a mission?"
"No."
"Were you aware of the stealing of the blueprints by Hydra before the event transpired?"
"No."
"Were you aware that the US Army would take the blueprints and use them for their own uses?"
"No."
"Were you aware that the gas had been released before it was?"
"No."
"Have you lied on any of these questions?"
"No."
Peggy nods and sits back. She tears the strips of paper from the polygraph and reviews them for a while, the minutes passing slowly as Isabel sits and twiddles her thumbs, feeling nervous even though she knows she's okay. The needles never flicked rapidly again. She never lied. She was telling the entire truth.
"You're clean," Peggy says eventually, putting the papers together and filing them into one slot in a large filing case beside her, Isabel's name written on the tab. "Like I expected any differently. You're free to go."
"Thank God, you're terrifying," Isabel laughs.
London, United Kingdom
March 24th, 1944
No one is caught on the lie detector tests. Peggy and Phillips test every person within the SSR base and the hotel above, everyone who may have access to the facilities, and everyone checks out. They check all of the security cameras within the base, searching every face, attempting to find a glimpse of whoever may have entered Howard's laboratories and seen the blueprints long enough to work out what they were and know to contact Hydra about them. They see no one new in the days leading up to the event. No one really enters the laboratories except Howard and the Commandos, the SSR agents steering clear.
At a loss, everyone seems to move on from the event, deeming that the case will always be open. There's not much else they can do, other than test everyone and attempt to see the perpetrator on the security cameras.
The time following the incident passes quickly. Isabel busies herself with her nursing and deciphering of the serum in order to forget. Peggy buries herself in her own work for the SSR, working day and night to uncover intel that can lead the US Army or the Howling Commandos toward defeating Hydra.
Howard locks himself up in the laboratories for days at a time, not even stopping to eat and sleep. It isn't so different to normal, except he works extremely hard on rectifying his mistake by making something, anything, that could help the Allies. No matter how much Isabel or Peggy or anyone tries to talk to Stark about what happened, he brushes them off with some degree of flirty charm and tells them he's fine. Isabel and Peggy talk and cry it out and after a few days, what they've seen becomes more bearable. Stark, though, he bottles it up, and they know that one day he's just going to crumple.
One morning, Isabel walks down to the laboratories intent on talking to Howard and getting him out of his slump. Steve goes with her because Isabel hopes that Steve's opinion might be of more value to Howard since he's on the outer and didn't see the destruction of the gas with his own eyes like Peggy and Isabel did. But when Steve and Isabel walk into the laboratory, hand in hand, Howard is nowhere to be seen.
"Maybe he actually went up to his room to sleep?" Isabel suggests.
She walks through the laboratory, checking any of the small alcoves. At the far end she rounds the corner wall to the secluded corner of the laboratory where a large wardrobe, couch and a desk sit. The area is Howard's retreat where he usually sleeps and keeps a few changes of clothes in case of any laboratory accidents, or if he just can't be bothered leaving the room. The couch is empty and so is the desk, everything cleared from the top of the desk and stuffed into the drawers and locked, a few papers sticking out slightly.
Back near the entrance where Steve stands, his eyebrows rise in disbelief. "I don't think he's done that since we've known him," he notes, taking a seat on the edge of one of the desks and watching Isabel look around the small laboratory, deeming it empty.
"Well," Isabel says, her tone slightly suggestive, and it makes Steve's eyebrows rise. "We've got the whole lab to ourselves," she tells Steve. Isabel walks toward Steve and stands in front of his knees, hands on his shoulders.
"W-we do?"
"Mmhmm," Isabel murmurs, leaning close and kissing Steve right on the jaw, working her way toward his lips. "What should we do with that alone time? It doesn't happen all that often."
Steve gulps. "I, uhm, I dunno–"
"You're so cute when you're nervous," Isabel giggles.
Isabel collects Steve's lips with her own, her hand coming up to tussle the back of his blonde hair. It's silent for a moment, their lips working in synchrony. Steve's hand comes up to grasp the back of her waist, pulling her closer to him, his other hand cupping her cheek. Isabel pushes on Steve's knee gently and he moves it just enough that she can slot between his legs, making Steve's eyes widen slightly. She holds back her laugh, instead kissing him harder. Steve responds back enthusiastically, ignoring the blush of his cheeks. He just hopes that no one can see them through the windows to the laboratory, where lots of people walk past–
A small thunk of a closing door gets Steve's attention, coming from further inside the lab, toward the back alcove. Steve pulls away and looks over Isabel's shoulder into the rest of the laboratory, which had been empty, but the noise says otherwise. He listens intently, frowning toward the part of the laboratory where the wall blocks their view of the wardrobe, couch and desk. Isabel waits, cocking her head in confusion at him. Steve hears it again, a noise – a soft thud, the shuffle of paper, the sound of footsteps, a murmur of German.
He puts a finger to his lips to mime for Isabel to be quiet and she nods, stepping out of his embrace with silent footsteps. Steve carefully stands from the desk, careful not to make any noise, and makes his way toward the corner, holding an arm out to keep Isabel behind him. She stays where she was by the desk, watching with a frown as Steve inches closer to the person who's apparently at the desk.
Steve rounds the corner and the man hasn't noticed him. The doors to the wardrobe are open where they were once closed, and the man clearly had hidden in there when Isabel came into the room. The man is dressed in the janitor's outfit, a bucket of his cleaning materials sitting on the desk. He's leaning over the desk, the drawers jimmied open, and he's rifling through the drawers of Howard's notes, muttering to himself. He picks out a few pages and scrunches them up, sticking them into his back pocket of his pants.
Steve watches a few seconds before taking a step, loud and deliberate. The man pauses and then whirls around, eyes wide when he sees the Captain behind him. Steve rushes him and grabs him by the collar, holding him against the desk.
"What do you think you're doing?" Steve asks, his voice a growl. The man glares up at Steve, keeping his lips sealed with a determined frown.
Isabel rushes around the corner once she's sure Steve's contained him, glaring at the man. He twitches in Steve's tight grip pressed up against the hard wood of the desk. "Who is he?" Isabel asks.
"The janitor. I've seen him around for months. But you aren't really a janitor, are you?" Steve asks the man. "Sifting through Howard Stark's work. You leaked the blueprints, didn't you? You work for Hydra? It's a great disguise. They must have you on a pretty special wage to get you to infiltrate a SSR base for this amount of time."
The man offers no answer, staring defiantly at Steve. His jaw clicks as he clenches his teeth, apparently attempting to dislodge a cyanide capsule replacing one of his teeth.
"No, you don't!" Steve yells, wrenching the man's mouth open forcefully and grabbing the small tooth-shaped capsule that's sitting on his tongue, pulling it from his mouth before the man can crunch it and release the cyanide inside. "Damn Hydra and their cyanide pills," Steve grumbles, handing the capsule to Isabel who wraps it in a tissue.
"We gonna take him to Phillips?" Isabel asks Steve.
"Yeah. You got somethin' comin' for you," Steve tells the man. "I'm sure Agent Carter will have no qualms getting the information out of you." The man's face falls at the mention of Agent Carter. Apparently, Peggy's managed to make a name for herself, even within Hydra.
Steve grabs the man roughly and holds his hands behind his back as though he were arrested, leading him through the halls toward Phillips' office, Isabel behind him. Steve opens the door to the office without knocking and bursts inside, where Colonel Phillips and Agent Carter are currently in a meeting, discussing the movement of the Howling Commandos. They jump when the door opens, Colonel Phillips hurriedly stuffing the files back into the draw to keep them classified. He turns a harrowing glare on Steve and Isabel, who sneaks in behind him, while Peggy eyes the janitor carefully.
"Rogers! Barnes! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Phillips yells, standing up from his desk chair.
"We found this man going through the locked-up papers in Howard Stark's desk drawers, speaking to himself in German and pocketing papers. When I confronted him, he tried to take a cyanide pill. Not exactly something an innocent janitor would do," Steve tells them.
Peggy stands, too, eyeing the man carefully.
"He's Hydra, Colonel Phillips," Isabel says. "He has to be. He must have leaked the blueprints whereabouts."
"Posing as the janitor, how original," Peggy sneers. "I can't believe I missed it."
"We all make mistakes, Agent Carter," Phillips reassures.
Steve pushes the man into Peggy's empty chair, standing right beside him and overbearing to intimidate him. Isabel moves around to stand at the side of Phillips' desk, Peggy beside her, the Brit's arms folded over her chest and her face morphed into an unimpressed frown.
"He was interrogated by you on the polygraph test. How did he go unnoticed?" Steve asks Peggy and the Colonel.
"People are poor at detecting if someone is lying," Phillips says. "Human history is riddled with people coming up with techniques and instruments to try to make up for this accuracy in judgement. Seems the truth of the polygraph is about as accurate as people, a poor marker for judgement."
"Dugan said you could beat the polygraph test, but I didn't really think it was possible…?" Isabel asks quietly.
All four eyes flick to the man expectantly. His mouth is a thin line, and he looks as though he'll give nothing away.
"Leave him with me a while," Peggy says, grabbing him up and hauling him toward the door. "I'll get him to come clean."
Peggy comes back half-an-hour later with a bit of blood under her fingernails, but a triumphant smirk on her features. She takes a seat in the chair Steve vacates for her beside Isabel, Steve moving to lean against one of the table against the wall. Phillips sits back in his chair, looking at the Agent expectantly.
"Well, Carter, did you get him to talk?"
"Would I have come back if I hadn't?" Peggy asks, raised eyebrow. She shifts and gets more comfortable. "He says that at Hydra, they've been deconditioned against the physiological changes the polygraph measures when a person lies." Steve and Isabel look a little bit confused, not knowing everything about the way the test works, so Peggy explains. "Lying makes your heart race. Makes you pant. It drives up your blood pressure and makes you drip sweat. The polygrapher scores the test by comparing these physiological to the control questions with reactions to relevant questions. If the former reactions are greater, the examinee passes. If the latter are greater, he fails. An examinee's lie only counts as a lie if it registers as more of a lie than his or her control lie."
"Okay," Isabel says slowly. "So, they change their heart rate, respiratory rate, blood pressure and sweat level whilst answering the control questions so that when they lie on the relevant questions, it won't be picked up. The polygrapher will just believe they have a naturally high heart rate, that they're really nervous?"
"Exactly," Peggy says. "They send their control lies off the charts. By comparison, their answers to the relevant questions, whether they are truths or falsehoods, will seem true."
"How do they do that, though?" Steve asks.
"One way that we know of is to press down on a thumb tack or sharp object in the shoe, so we made the interviewees remove their shoes. The pain from doing this will cause most of your vitals to spike, and your response will probably be read as a lie. They can also think exciting or scary thoughts when they recognize a control question, or do a difficult math problem in their head, or bite down on their tongue. By contrast, when answering relevant questions, they stay calm. They maintain their baseline breathing pattern. They keep their mind at ease knowing that neither they nor the polygrapher are in control. Even if they produce a slight response when asked the accusatory relevant questions, they will have artificially produced stronger responses while answering the control questions."
"You got all of that out of him?" Isabel asks, astounded.
"Of course, and more. He told me all about how he contacted Hydra to inform them about Midnight Oil. He'd originally been searching for the serum notes and he also found Midnight Oil. He sent the intel to a Hydra base in Greece, and he gave me a rough estimate of the co-ordinates. We can send a team in to investigate if we chose to pursue the lead." At Isabel's still astonished expression, Peggy smirks. "It's amazing, Isabel, what a traditional interrogation can do. Fists and all."