Chapter 521

Nick Fury’s attitude was strange.

Strange enough that Evenson couldn’t stop thinking about it as he and Tony left the hospital. He was so distracted that he barely noticed the reporters waiting outside until the moment they swarmed them.

Then something even more predictable happened.

The reporters shoved Evenson aside and descended on Tony Stark.

Celebrity status had its advantages. It also apparently came with a built-in mob of journalists whenever terrorists decided to make the news.

A terrorist attack was already front-page material. A terrorist attack involving someone close to one of the world’s richest men? Huge story.

A terrorist attack involving the close associate of a billionaire who also happened to be a superhero?

That was practically journalistic catnip.

The reporters bombarded Tony with questions without giving much thought to his mood. Eventually, whether because he was tired of them or because Happy’s injuries had been eating at him, Tony snapped.

He turned toward the cameras.

"My name is Tony Stark, and I’m not afraid of you. You’re a coward, so I’ve decided you can look forward to dying. I’m going to kill you myself. This has nothing to do with politics. It’s old-fashioned revenge. No Pentagon, no intermediaries. Just you and me. If you’re really a man, remember my address. I’ll leave the door open."

While the cameras drank in every word, Evenson slipped away unnoticed.

By the time anyone realized he was gone, he was already on the road.

His hands stayed steady on the wheel while his mind dug through years-old memories, trying to dredge up anything useful about the Mandarin.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much left.

He vaguely remembered that the Mandarin had some connection to Aldrich Killian. More importantly, he remembered that the Mandarin wasn’t actually the terrorist mastermind everyone believed him to be.

He was a carefully manufactured celebrity.

A front created by Killian.

That was all Evenson could recover.

After all, how much could he realistically expect himself to remember after so many years? He could barely remember what he’d eaten the night before.

Still, it was enough.

The clue gave him a target.

Killian was where the whole affair began.

As for whether Killian was a good man or a bad man, Evenson honestly couldn’t have cared less. He was even less interested in guessing how many terrorist attacks the man might have planned.

The Eredar Twins had been extremely interested in Killian’s biotechnology for quite some time. More precisely, they had been interested in acquiring his entire organization.

The only real problem had been the price.

They needed to figure out how to buy Killian’s research without paying an absurd amount for it.

But looking at the situation now, perhaps they didn’t need to worry about the purchase price at all.

Killian and the Mandarin were two sides of the same operation.

And if the technology could be taken from a terrorist organization, why bother buying it?

There was only one problem.

They needed evidence.

Not rumors. Not an accusation backed by Evenson’s word alone.

They needed proof that could stand up to scrutiny.

Telling SHIELD was obviously out of the question. For one thing, there was no way to explain how Evenson had obtained the information.

For another, once the affair was over, Killian’s technology would almost certainly end up in SHIELD’s hands.

Or Hydra’s.

Either way, everyone else could forget about getting their hands on it.

And then there was Nick Fury’s clear declaration that SHIELD had no intention of involving itself in the matter.

Tony Stark was another possibility.

Except that, given Tony’s current state of mind, the moment he learned who was behind everything, he would probably put on the armor, fly straight to Killian, and beat him into paste.

That wasn’t what Evenson wanted.

He didn’t want Killian dead.

He wanted Killian exposed.

He wanted detailed, undeniable evidence of his crimes.

Which meant Evenson needed another solution.

After some time on the road, Evenson returned to New York.

He didn’t go home.

Instead, he drove to a different part of the city and stopped in front of a brownstone.

He stepped out, walked to the door, and rang the bell twice.

After a moment, the old-fashioned door opened.

A Chinese-American woman stood there, staring at him with clear surprise.

"You?"

Evenson gave her a polite nod.

"Sorry for dropping by unannounced, Ms. Watson. Is Mr. Holmes home? I have something I’d like to discuss with him."

This was Evenson’s solution.

Investigation wasn’t his specialty.

Fortunately, he knew someone whose specialty it was.

Sherlock Holmes had left a deep impression on him. Given enough clues, Evenson was confident Holmes could unravel the entire affair.

Watson hesitated for a moment before stepping aside.

"Come in."

Not long ago, Watson and Holmes had suspected Evenson. They had even gone so far as to accuse him of criminal activity.

Then Evenson had proved that he was a SHIELD operative.

At that point, their suspicions had become difficult to defend.

Watson led him inside.

"Holmes is dealing with something at the moment. You’ll have to wait a little while."

She poured him a cup of tea.

"Working on a case?" Evenson asked, taking a sip.

His question was answered almost immediately.

Laughter drifted down from upstairs.

Two women who looked remarkably capable walked down the staircase, dressed and apparently preparing to leave.

Evenson watched them go.

"Wow."

He waited until the women had disappeared before looking at Watson.

"I really didn’t expect Holmes to be this kind of Sherlock Holmes."

His expression then shifted into something more curious.

The implication was obvious.

You’re not jealous?

Watson understood immediately.

"I’m Holmes’s roommate," she said, sounding thoroughly unimpressed. "Nothing more."

"Ah."

Before Evenson could say anything else, footsteps sounded on the stairs.

"Aha! You?"

Sherlock Holmes came downstairs.

His hair was an absolute disaster, and he was bare-chested.

He crossed the room, picked up a shirt he had apparently discarded in the living room, and pulled it on.

"Why have you come here?" Holmes asked.

Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "And even now, I maintain that my original suspicions about you were correct."

Evenson had no intention of getting dragged back into that argument.

"I’m here because I need you to investigate a case."

"What case?"

Holmes threw on a suit that looked as though it hadn’t seen a washing machine in a very long time.

"And let me make one thing clear. Anything involving SHIELD is off the table."

Men who were exceptionally good at something tended to develop a certain amount of arrogance.

Holmes appeared to have taken SHIELD rejecting him personally.

Not because he desperately wanted to join.

That wasn’t the point.

In Holmes’s worldview, if someone was going to reject him, it damn well shouldn’t have been SHIELD.

"I’m here in a private capacity," Evenson said seriously. "This has nothing to do with SHIELD business."

"Good."

Holmes finished dressing, then gestured toward Evenson with one hand.

"Then tell me what happened. We’ll see whether it’s interesting enough to hold my attention."