Work Text:
September 1961
She tracks him down to Berkeley, California, in a suburb not too far from the university. Sixteen years, the professor has been here, and it seems that he’s finally settled in. His house is largely indistinguishable from the others in this neighborhood: the same, white picket fence, the same, immaculately-tended rose bushes, and the same, cookie-cutter perfection that sets her teeth immediately on edge.
But there are softer corners to this existence, a roundness to the edges that proves her theory correct: the man no longer sees himself as a prisoner. His mailbox bears an Anglicized surname, hand-potted flowers rest on the porch steps, and no fewer than three, different newspaper publications lie on the driveway. There is even a dog bowl filled with water by the welcome mat.
She scoffs at the irony, the audacity of it.
The Americans have gotten lax in protecting one of their most valuable foreign imports. They have become complacent, much like the professor has. He hadn’t even bothered to secure the latch on the gate.
She recalls the stories of her own childhood, the whispered rumors of a Fifth Column during the second world war. Our danger is the danger of Troy, she remembers reading once, the wooden horse within our walls.
Trust no one.
It was a lesson she hadn’t needed to be taught and it has served her well throughout her life. She stands now on the very doorstep of precious, government property. The Enemy Within. Not an intruder, but welcome.
With a thin smile, Victoria Vinciguerra raises her hand to knock on the door.
“Dr. Arthur Taylor?” she asks sweetly when he answers the door to her (no security chain, no peephole, no precaution).
The professor looks a bit dazed at the sight of her. He peers over her shoulder at the flashy Austin-Healey parked out front, before his eyes finally meet hers. “Yes?”
“My name is Victoria Vinciguerra. Your brother-in-law, I believe, works for my company.” She doesn’t miss the man’s subtle flinch, the way he seems to be drawing into himself. “Do you mind if I come in?”
It isn’t a question. Udo Teller nods dumbly and allows her to step into his home. A pudgy dachshund wriggles around her feet, attempts to put his grubby paws on her pants legs.
“No, Schnitzel,” he says weakly.
When the dog persists, Victoria rolls her eyes. “Platz,” she snaps. Schnitzel immediately acquiesces, laying flat on the ground and looking up at her with a keen, curious gaze.
“You speak German.”
Victoria raises her shoulders in a delicate shrug. “It’s not the language he pays attention to, professor. It’s the authority behind it.” She snaps her fingers, switches over to Italian to prove her point. “Vieni.”
Immediately, the dachshund rises and follows her as she commandeers the man’s home, situating herself on the couch in the sitting room. Schnitzel curls up obediently at her feet before she can give the order.
The professor’s brow furrows as he looks between the two. He hesitates in the doorway, bewildered by the sudden changing of the tide. “Can I offer you—”
“Tea.”
Dr. Teller nods and sets to work.
A few moments later, and the professor is squirming in agitated silence across from her. Victoria takes a dainty sip of Earl Grey—rapidly cooling, but passable—and keeps him hanging in suspense a while longer.
Eventually, the man reaches his breaking point. “How did you find me?”
“Rudi told me that you went to work for the Americans after the war. Classified or not, Dr. Teller, there are only a handful of nuclear research facilities stateside. It was fairly straightforward from there.”
An uncertain hum chases her response. “And why have you come here?"
“Your brother-in-law also told me that your talents are being wasted here.” Her blue eyes sweep around the room before lazily landing on him again. “I can’t say I disagree.”
“So, you’ve come to offer me a job.”
Victoria sets down her teacup. “I’ve come to offer you an opportunity. A chance to come out of hiding and to see your life’s work play out on a greater stage. There is so much more that you can offer humanity than this. All you need is the proper platform.”
Udo narrows his eyes at her. “And what would that be?”
“A new world order,” she says, a bright, wicked smile blooming over her face. She leans forward. “Tell me, professor. Just how much do you about Rudi’s profession?”
His back stiffens, features hardening in a scowl. “I have not spoken to him in fifteen years.”
Victoria nods in mock sympathy. “Publicly, your brother-in-law is one of the chief executives of the shipping company that I run, but I was referring to before that. You are aware of his legacy during the war, aren’t you?”
She searches Udo’s face closely. If he didn’t know for sure, he certainly guessed. “Rudolph von Trulsch is one of the unsung heroes of this generation,” she claims, relishing the way the professor’s face blanches. “He was but a shadow of his former self when I located him three years ago. Since then, he has simply flourished.”
Victoria smiles fondly at the memory. Rudi had been her first recruit, a wedding present of sorts to her groom and his father. A gesture of her absolute commitment to their cause. When she had married Alexander, she hadn’t just married into his family. She had married into his network, an empire built by their patriarch, Sergio Vinciguerra.
She was already independently wealthy, an heiress with the luxury of choosing among her suitors. Alexander was handsome and had his own, private fortune, but it hadn’t been the money she’d married him for.
It had been the access.
The love had come later, of course, but Victoria has always seen their union as first and foremost, a business partnership. And what better way to establish a foothold in every corner of the world than with an international shipping company?
Yes, she thinks fondly. Her father-in-law would be proud of her. He had done well to trust her with his vision, and she will continue to carry on his legacy. Starting with this next phase in THRUSH’s plan… the production and strategic dissemination of nuclear weaponry.
“And you, professor, can flourish too. It’s all yours for the taking.”
“There are no strings attached, I assume?” There is a sudden bite, a bitterness to his voice. Maybe there’s a fire left in him after all. “You have yet to say if there is a cost.”
She smiles thinly. “There always is. But really, what is it that would be holding you back? It can’t be your family. You left everything behind once. I don’t see why you can’t just do it again.”
When that elicits no reaction, Victoria decides to twist the knife a little deeper. She tips her head at an aged photo of a younger Udo Teller and his daughter. It is the only personal effect on display. “You’ve heard about the Wall they’ve built, haven’t you?”
A muscle jumps in the professor’s jaw, and his shoulders are inching up to his ears. She doesn’t wait for him to respond. “I’m sure your little Gaby will be safe and sound now that she’s cut off from half of the world. The ‘evil’ half, that is. Our half.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I’m sure you don’t. You only build bombs for a living, after all.” She smirks. “You just do it under a different flag. And that tells me everything I need to know about you.” Victoria’s voice is all honeyed sweetness, flowing over a razor blade smile. “Don’t you want to know what it is?”
“No,” he grits out.
“It tells me that you’re scared, professor. That your cooperation—oh, you don’t think I’m naive enough to call it loyalty, do you?—can be bought if it will save your skin. Like it or not, you’re merely a gun for hire.”
Before Udo can so much as blink, she levels her Walther PPK at him. “Only, this time, I’m not asking.”
“You would shoot me?”
“Not fatally, no.” She indulges him with a soft chuckle, waves the pistol for emphasis. “You are the golden goose. There are, of course, other ways to get the point across, though, frankly, I don’t think you have the constitution for them.”
Her eyes drift meaningfully to that small, framed photograph. “But maybe your daughter does.”
Udo’s whole body jerks. His shoulders fall, his face slackens, and she knows that he will not put up a fight. A complete surrender.
The professor raises his hands in supplication. “I will go with you. Just leave…” he sighs, the words coming out thickly, “...just leave Gabriella out of this.”
“Provided you uphold your end of the bargain, professor, I don’t see why she needs to be involved. There might even be a reunion for you at the end of this if you play your cards right.”
It really is all the same to her what happens to the girl. Besides, she reasons, it would be a pain to get her out of East Germany anyway.
Victoria idles in the sitting room with Schnitzel while Udo packs. She knows he won’t try to make a run for it. A quarter of an hour passes before he appears before her, white knuckles gripping the handle of a suitcase. He tucks the photo of him and his daughter into his coat and nods at her.
She rises gracefully to her feet and tucks the dachshund against her hip, leading the procession out. Victoria deposits the dog in the neighbor’s yard and allows the man to say his goodbyes. She’s not completely heartless.
At least this way, Dr. ‘Arthur Taylor’ will be declared missing sooner rather than later.
Udo doesn’t look back as the sports car pulls away, and Victoria respects him for it. He may be a coward, but there’s a survivor in him as well.
Chased by the sound of a dog’s frantic barking, she drives them out of the suburbs and into the future. Victoria smiles.
Phase 2 has just begun.