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"How do you feel about experimental aircraft?" Simon asked Tony as he tossed a folder with a large red classified stamp on the cover across the table.
"Love 'em," Tony replied. He looked over the contents of the folder, admired the technical drawings, noted the photographs of the airfield, and handed the folder back. "Beautiful plane."
"Shame if anything happened to her," Simon said.
Tony arched an eyebrow and reached for the folder again. "This is what you want me to do? Protect this plane? Don't you have soldiers for that?"
Simon smirked back at him. "Look, I wouldn't be asking you to do this if we didn't have a plan or two already. Look, just go to the airfield and keep an eye peeled for saboteurs."
"You just want me out of London so I won't embarrass the Office of Strategic Services bigwigs when they come to visit," Tony replied.
"Maybe," Simon replied. "You have five hours to pack. A car will be waiting for you at your hotel." He began to stand up.
"Does that include the armor?"
Simon stopped. "Do you think that you need the armor?"
"I'll think about it," Tony replied. "I'll hold onto this — I need some bedtime reading." He held up the folder.
As far as Tony could tell, Simon was overly concerned about this plane for some unknown reason. The information in the folder had been sanitized for Tony, and Tony, being the smart cookie he was, could fill in the gaps. Someone had tipped off OSS about enemy designs on the plane or perhaps the airfield. According to any OSS map Tony could find in the office, that airfield off the coast of Northumberland didn't exist.
Hmm, this whole mission — which admittedly Tony thought was a sort of ruse to get him out of the way — might actually be a genuine spy mission.
The ride to the airfield was uneventful. The driver barely said a word on the long, bumpy ride all through the night. Tony was glad he had decided against the armor — all the boxes would have made the trip far worse. All Simon had given Tony was his cover story and the information that his contact at the airfield would give him his orders. They finally arrived at flimsy guard gate blocking the road to a collection of nondescript wooden buildings.
"I'm here to see Colonel Smith," Tony cheerfully said to the guard.
After reporting in and being told that Smith would see him in two hours, Tony went in search of breakfast. The airfield had a dismal canteen of a sort with spectacularly crappy coffee and ancient pastries. If Tony wanted better options, he'd have to get clearance to go into town with an escort.
"This had better be good, Simon," he muttered under his breath as he poured coffee sludge into a chipped mug and found a passably edible scone. He sat down to read through his day-old paper.
"Hey, is this chair free?" a warm and friendly baritone voice asked.
Startled, Tony looked up. "Steve, what are you doing here?"
"Guard duty," said Steve with a shrug.
Tony had met Steve back in '42 after he had to be extracted from Berlin when his undercover mission as Byron Ironsides had gone sideways. Back then, Steve had been General Simon's driver who had picked Tony up from the hospital that Captain America had delivered him to. Being rescued by the soon-to-be famous Captain would be have impressed anyone, but it was Private Rogers who made more of an impression on him.
Since then, Tony had run into Steve (and Captain America, too) every now and then in unexpected places and situations. His working theory at first was that Steve was a fellow OSS agent. But Steve was clearly never on similar missions as Tony and, after a disaster mission at the end of '43, Tony knew that Steve was no spy. Tony had to reconsider his assumptions and concluded that Steve worked for Other Spy People Doing Other Spy Things, just not as a spy. He was just the muscle.
Still, he appreciated that Steve managed to make it to March 1945 in spite of the spy business. Tony loved his shit-eating grin, his dry wit, his grit and determination. (And his biceps too.) Sometime the world wasn't all that rotten and miserable, even in war. It was always a good day when he ran across Steve.
Tony pushed the chair over to Steve with his foot over. "Always a free spot for you, soldier."
Steve was dressed in regular uniform, a bit spiffier than usual, with his name tag marked Rogers. "Nice to see you here. I heard you were in London."
"For two days, then they shipped me up here. Surprised to see you —" Steve tipped his head slightly. Tony got the hint. "Anyway, nice to be here. Except for the coffee."
Steve lifted his own mug, smiled and agreed. "Except for the coffee." He sipped his coffee. "Writing for Marvels now?"
Oh, so that was the game. Talking about safe subjects even in this canteen on a rural airfield that held only them and three engineers who were buried in math. "Getting back into the game. Pepper likes the war stories — she says the issues sell better now with the blood-and-guts true stories from the front."
"Huh, can't quite see it myself, but Ma always said there's something for everyone."
They talked about which movies Tony had seen and Steve only heard about, the weather, and comics Steve had brought with him. "Comics?" Tony was surprised.
"Easier to pack than War and Peace," Steve replied. He checked his watch. "I'm on guard duty — guess I'll be seeing you around."
Last time Tony had seen Steve was three months ago in a seedy bar in Amsterdam where all the drinks had been watered down and barely tasted of alcohol and the smoke from cigarettes so thick Steve looked like a statue emerging from the fog. He never knew why Steve was there, but Tony had to meet a contact in a couple of hours. They shared a quiet drink and parted ways, not knowing when they'd see each again.
Today he was seeing a lot of Steve. The airfield commander had been given a brief that Tony was there on official State Department business and was to be given the grand tour. "I think I was given the wrong orders," Tony said with a smile as he shook the man's hand.
Colonel Smith shrugged and said, "It's the Army — what do you expect."
"There's a rumor that the War Department will be splitting off Army Air Forces to create a Department of the Air Force — what you do think about that?" Tony asked lightly, playing up the journalist cover.
"Hah. That'll be the day. What are they going to do with the Navy pilots in that case? Now let's go over here to this first shed — here's where the boys study the weather."
The airfield was supposedly in the weather ballon business, which they actually did do besides test experimental airplanes. "Here's our weather plane," Smith said, as they walked into the hanger.
Steve was sitting alertly in a chair, watching the mechanics work on the plane. Barnes was nearby, looking incredibly bored, which Tony knew was an act. Both of the men were consummate professionals at their jobs, whatever those jobs actually were.
Tony pretended to take notes. "Fancy weather plane, duly noted."
"We're doing important work here," Colonel Smith said. "The war effort depends on good weather reporting. We're all not Captain America."
Tony broke out his charming smile. "Oh, I've been the victim of bad reports before, Colonel. I completely understand."
Smith nodded. "I appreciate the understanding. Next stop, the radio hut."
~~~~~
After a lovely dinner with the colonel and his staff, Tony went back to the hangar. He carefully opened a side door and was jumped by Barnes. "What the hell are you doing here now?" he snapped.
"Hey, let him go, Bucky," Steve called out. "I was expecting him."
Barnes dropped his hands. "Excuse me, Stark. But you know —" Barnes gave a bit of shrug.
"Can't be too careful," Tony replied cheerfully. He dusted his coat off. He squinted at Steve who was waving him over to the table where he was sitting. Tony sat down and Barnes went back to watching the door.
"You're my contact?" Tony asked Steve.
"Simon told me he was sending you. HQ is worried that HYDRA is planning to steal that plane based on some chatter they intercepted. We're here to stop it," Steve replied briskly.
"Oh, a babysitting mission," Tony replied dismissively.
"I'm not too sure about that. I don't think that we would have been reassigned to England for an ordinary experimental plane." Steve sorted through the paperwork in front of him. Then he pushed a piece of paper with the classified stamp over to Tony. "Bucky, want to take a break?" Steve shouted at Bucky.
"You bet. When do you want me back?"
Tony replied, "I'll take the overnight watch." Bucky flicked a thumbs-up in approval and slipped out of the hangar. "Should we be worried about him?"
"The poker game he's about to crash should be." Steve tapped the paper. "What do you think?"
Tony scanned the intelligence report. "I don't like the word Zemo so I get why I'm here."
"We've been here for two days and most of that time, we've been on guard duty." Steve shook his head. "Haven't seen anything unusual. The mechanics and engineers have all been cleared by OSS. The soldiers hand-picked."
"The perimeter?"
"Standard rural — fields, woods, a couple of small villages but no pubs or inns. Most of the younger residents are away for war work. There's a cliff on one side of the base, too steep for anyone to climb up. There's a perimeter guard — they're sharp but easily bored." He smiled ruefully. "If anything, you and me are the most suspicious people here."
"Hmm, but since Zemo is involved, we can't expect the usual bribery, incompetence, or under staffing." Tony cracked his knuckles and studied the report again, in case he had missed something.
"You're the Zemo expert here."
"More than you?" Tony waited for Steve's reaction but got nothing. He gave it some thought. "Zemo has to know that the war is just about over. All he can do now is to inflict maximum damage, maybe revenge on his enemies. He really hates Captain America."
To his credit, Steve looked skeptical. "Here? A remote base on the coast of Northumberland? He's not going to find his enemies here and he wouldn't know that you would be sent here by the OSS."
Tony stood up and paced. "I know. It doesn't make sense. The Army clearly thinks a lot of this plane, but honestly it's not the fanciest piece of equipment out there." He picked up his orders again. "My ride is coming back in two days so I hope we can wrap this up by then."
"I was hoping that you had orders for me. Guess I'm stuck here for longer." Steve actually looked sad at the prospect of not being in Germany right now.
"Better off here than on the front. Bad and weird things happen in the last days of the war. Really bad. Imagine living through the whole war and dying in the last few weeks."
"I like seeing things through to the end," Steve replied.
Tony's attention turned towards the plane and he inspected it from tail to nose. He knew planes so he couldn't see anything unusual with a visual inspection. He'd have to take the plane apart to find anything. "The saboteur could have damaged parts before the plane arrived here."
Steve poked him with a ledger. "These are the flight records. The plane arrived four days ago and they've flown it everyday for repeated flights with no problems."
Putting his hands on his hips, Tony sighed as he inspected the plane. It still looked factory-fresh with no markings even. He took the ledger from Steve but didn't look at the records. The war had dulled his instincts about the weird and unusual — war-time spying, as exciting as it sounded, was routine collecting of information, it was nothing like the thrill of the hunt for orichalcum and other ancient wonders. A tiny voice in the back of his head nagged that he wasn't looking at this current problem the right way.
"Like I said, this isn't the fanciest plane out there. Why would Zemo care about this here when he should be in Germany fighting Captain America? I'm wondering if the intel got it wrong."
"That's possible," Steve said flatly. Then he added, "Guess you're not getting a good story out of this."
Tony glanced over at Steve. "The Mystery of the Routine Plane Flights doesn't have the ring of a winning article, that's for sure. At least I can say I had a very handsome companion with me."
"Maybe we could make the story more interesting," Steve stammered. "Somehow." Tony noticed the slight blush on Steve's face as he talked. That was interesting.
"When this is all over, I'm going back to adventuring," Tony vowed. "There's a lot left to discover." He nudged Steve. "I could use a guy like you on my travels."
"I don't know," Steve hemmed and hawed. "Bucky asked me the other day about what I wanted to do after the war." He took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up in an unfairly attractive way.
"How about Hollywood?" Tony blurted out. "Movie star."
Steve genuinely laughed, his whole face lighting up. "You know by now after that Paris thing that I'm no actor."
"I liked Paris and you weren't bad at all. We got the intel and no one died. What more could you ask?" Tony retorted. He turned to Steve, who was right there, and nearly leaned in.
Steve placed a hand on his shoulder as if joking with Tony and shook his head imperceptibly. "Not now. You don't know who is watching," he said in a whisper.
"That's not a no?" Tony whispered back. Steve gave him a regretful smile as he turned his hat around in his hands a couple of times. Tony continued, "Like I said, there's so much to discover. Peru, the Amazon Rain Forest, the Sahara — "
"You've nearly sold me."
"What are you going to do? Go back home and ride a desk for a few years for OSS?"
"I read Marvels before the war," Steve said. "I always wondered what it would be like to travel with you."
"What's holding you back?"
"The end of the war. It's still not over." Steve scuffed the dirt floor with his shoe. "Don't always get what I want. But it's a long night — I wouldn't say no to hearing any of your stories." He nudged Tony and gave him a dazzling smile.
"This is better than Paris," Tony pointed out.
"Paris had better food."
~~~~~
Tony was still puzzling over how the saboteur was going to take out the plane in the morning. He'd fallen asleep in his chair and woke to find that Steve had covered him with a blanket and Bucky was back on guard. Bucky didn't have any news so Tony ended up in the canteen again.
He went over his notes from the night before. That nagging feeling that he wasn't looking at every possibility tugged at him. Zemo had both scientific and mystical tools at his disposal. OSS and Steve were assuming the scientific tools, but Tony had been around the block a few times so he knew that whatever Zemo was planning was not going to be expected. He sipped his coffee which had a surprisingly bitter taste for coffee supposedly freshly made.
One of the mechanics came in and turned on the radio. He fiddled a bit with the stations and decided to stick with the BBC morning news. The mechanic grumbled about the lack of music to the other mechanic next to him. The other mechanic straightened up and rushed out of the canteen accompanied with quizzical looks from the other soldiers and scientists.
Tony watched the mechanic with curiosity as the man nearly bumped into Steve on motorcycle as he headed to the hangar. Steve stopped to let the man run past him and continued on towards the colonel's office.
"Bloody hell, news again," one of the engineers complained as he got coffee.
"It's good news though," the guy next to him said. "Could be a lot worse."
Tony thought about it more. They played news in the morning because they couldn't get a station with music. They probably could get a station with music later in the afternoon or the evening. But only news in the morning. You didn't need to be on base to know that — Tony could do the calculations from London to have a general estimate of what stations this airfield could get.
It hit him like a ton of bricks. Zemo didn't need to sneak in a saboteur — all he had to do was to send in a brainwashed mechanic. A spray of gas, a snippet of BBC news, and they'd have the trigger to start their plan. If Zemo was good at anything, he was good at brainwashing.
Tony got to his feet as the chaos hit.
"Stop him! Stop him!" someone shouted outside the canteen.
The hangar doors swung open and the plane roared forward. Tony ran out of the canteen with everyone else. Bucky was running out of the hangar.
"What happened?" Steve shouted at them as he rode up on a motorcycle.
"Zemo!" Tony snapped. "Booby-trapped the plane."
Steve wheeled the motorcycle around and Tony swung up on the motorcycle behind him before Bucky could. "Hey — what are you doing?" Bucky yelled at him.
Tony locked his arms around Steve as Steve revved the motorcycle to follow the plane. Then it hit him oddly that he was feeling something like leather and mail under Steve's clothes. The puzzle pieces clicked together in Tony's brain.
"We're going to stop him!" Steve gritted out.
"Only if we can stop that plane from taking off!"
They were barreling right towards the cliff near the airfield. "Stop, Steve! Now!" Tony yelled into Steve's ear.
"We have to stop the plane!" Steve shouted back.
"No! That's not what Zemo wants!" Tony yelled back. "Trust me!"
Steve killed the engine and the motorcycle shuddered to a stop just inches from the edge of the cliff. The plane was gaining altitude and was heading towards the north Atlantic. Then it exploded in a huge fireball and the remains of the plane rained down into the ocean.
They both stood there in shock.
"If I had caught that plane, I would have been killed," Steve finally said.
Tony clasped his hand and squeezed it, risking a bit of affection in the face of near death. "You were right last night. Zemo wouldn't know that you or me were here unless he set it all up. Planted information, some brainwashing, and boom his two enemies are taken out."
"You mean you," Steve said tightly.
Tony tapped Steve's shirt which had been torn open during the ride. "I didn't know that the Army was issuing Captain America underwear now."
"Knowing my identity is very highly classified information," Steve said. "Only a handful of people and Bucky know."
"Your secret is safe with me," Tony assured him. He looked back towards the base. "Fix your shirt up, we're going to have company." He pointed towards the soldiers heading towards them.
~~~~~
Tony pecked at Colonel Smith's terrible field typewriter to finish his report. Steve had disappeared when they returned back to the airfield, likely to file his own report. The MPs had arrested the brainwashed mechanic and had torn apart his bunk but found nothing as Tony predicted. He might have been able to finish his report sooner if he hadn't spent a lot of time trying to figure out when he would be able to leave. His scheduled ride wasn't due for two days.
There was a knock on the door. "Come in," Tony said with a sigh.
"We have new orders," Steve announced, barely able to hold back his enthusiasm.
"What now?"
"Privates Rogers and Barnes are to drive you back to London as soon as you are ready to go and all of us report to General Simon for our next orders." Steve looked at Tony's report. "Bucky and I packed and the jeep has been gassed up," he added pointedly.
"That eager to go?" Tony ripped the paper out of the typewriter.
"That canteen coffee is going to kill me if I have to drink more of it. And I owe you a drink, you know, for saving my life." Steve gave him a wink.
Tony stood up and clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder. "It's only the beginning of our adventures, Private Rogers. There will be plenty of opportunities for more life debt drinks. Just you wait."