Chapter 918

Captain America and Natasha had finally escaped the immediate danger.

They were now driving toward New Jersey, following the location identified by the USB drive’s tracking program.

Their transportation was a stolen pickup truck.

Natasha was sprawled across the passenger seat, one leg casually propped up as she regarded Steve with an amused smile.

"Where exactly did Captain America learn how to steal cars?"

Steve smiled.

"Germany."

Natasha raised an eyebrow.

Most Americans, when asked about their experience with car theft, might have offered an embarrassing childhood story or blamed some desperate circumstances.

Steve, however, sounded almost proud of his answer.

As a veteran soldier, he had learned plenty of skills that weren’t exactly covered in a civilian driving course.

Unfortunately, his military history also made international travel somewhat complicated.

Especially when it came to Germany.

How many times had he visited the country?

Twice.

How had he arrived the first time?

By fighter plane, while hunting down an extraterrestrial version of Mussolini.

And the second time?

By tank, with the intention of killing Germans.

Hopefully, the German embassy would be feeling generous when he eventually applied for a visa.

"Also, we borrowed this truck," Steve added. "Keep your feet off the dashboard."

Natasha lowered her leg.

"Borrowed?"

"That’s right."

"Interesting choice of words."

"There’s no need to make it sound worse than it is."

After all, there was a difference between stealing a car and temporarily borrowing one without the owner’s permission.

At least, that was the distinction Steve preferred to make.

Natasha gave him a mischievous smile.

"All right. Let me ask you something. You don’t have to answer, but I think your reaction will tell me everything I need to know."

"What?"

"If those police officers hadn’t interrupted us back there..."

Her smile grew increasingly suggestive.

"We might have needed to get a little more intimate to get past the final checkpoint. Do you think you could have handled that?"

Steve didn’t even blink.

"Honestly, I’m more interested in how those police officers showed up in the first place."

Natasha stared at him.

He hadn’t even taken the bait.

Perhaps he genuinely wasn’t interested. Or perhaps he simply wasn’t brave enough to consider the implications.

After all, there was Peggy Carter on one side—a charming, elegant woman who was certainly not the sort to resort to domestic violence.

And then there was Rumlow and his eight-man response team on the other.

Steve had no intention of finding out which one would be more dangerous to offend.

"Those police officers did show up at a rather convenient time, but—watch out!"

He slammed on the brakes.

The pickup lurched to a stop as he rounded a bend, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Natasha was thrown forward, catching herself against the dashboard.

When she finally looked up, her expression changed.

"Oh, no."

A sleek black sports car was parked sideways across the road, completely blocking their path.

Its streamlined bodywork was unmistakable.

Steve knew that car.

It had once belonged to the HYDRA commander Johann Schmidt, better known as the Red Skull.

Now, it was the personal vehicle of Evenson Richter.

And Evenson was sitting comfortably on the hood, smoking a cigarette.

When he spotted the pickup, he casually raised one hand in greeting.

Steve narrowed his eyes.

He hadn’t told Evenson about their plans. There had been no reason to involve him.

Yet here he was, waiting directly along their route.

"How did he find us?" Steve muttered.

"Who knows?" Natasha replied, already looking considerably less relaxed. "Whatever the reason, I doubt he’s here to wish us luck. Maybe he’s been sent to arrest us."

She wasn’t being unreasonable.

Alexander Pierce was still, at least officially, the head of S.H.I.E.L.D. Following Nick Fury’s death, he had effectively taken control of the entire organization.

If Evenson had received orders to capture Steve and Natasha, there was no particular reason to believe he would refuse.

"Do you think he’ll fight us?"

Steve hesitated.

"He’s our friend. Surely we can talk this out."

Natasha gave him a sideways look.

"Have you ever been assigned to kill a friend?"

Steve looked genuinely confused.

"No."

"Well, I have."

She leaned back against the seat.

"Being an agent means you don’t always get to choose your assignments. Sometimes, personal feelings have nothing to do with it."

Besides, even if Evenson initially hesitated, Pierce could probably find a way to convince him.

A generous bonus. Double pay for the remainder of the year. Perhaps a promotion.

There were plenty of ways to make an inconvenient assignment more attractive.

"So, what’s the plan?" Steve asked.

He considered the situation carefully.

Against Rumlow and his team, he had at least stood a reasonable chance. But Evenson was another matter entirely.

Steve wasn’t confident he could win.

Perhaps fifty-fifty, at best.

"I’ll get out and talk to him," he decided. "Maybe I can convince him to change his mind."

"I wouldn’t count on it."

Natasha’s expression was serious.

"He’s usually easygoing, but when that man decides to get serious, he stops being reasonable."

She knew Evenson better than Steve did.

Partly because Sarah gave her access to information about him that few people possessed.

More importantly, as a Level Nine S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, Natasha had seen the organization’s internal assessments of Evenson. She had also encountered several reports detailing situations where S.H.I.E.L.D. had captured targets but failed to extract useful intelligence.

On more than one occasion, Nick Fury had personally requested Evenson’s assistance.

The results had been rather revealing.

When Evenson was serious, he could be frighteningly detached.

He didn’t care about personal relationships, didn’t waste time negotiating, and certainly didn’t go easy on anyone simply because he knew them.

Steve nodded.

"Then buckle up."

He quietly shifted the transmission into reverse.

"I’ll back up as fast as I can and try to get off the road. If we can’t escape, I’ll get out and keep him occupied. You take the USB drive and run. Whatever happens, make sure you uncover what’s inside."

Natasha considered it for a moment.

"All right. It’s the best option we’ve got."

She wasn’t the sort of person to waste time arguing when the situation demanded decisive action.

Across the road, Evenson opened his car door and stepped out.

The confrontation seemed inevitable.

Then—

A motorcycle engine sputtered nearby.

A highway patrol officer pulled up beside Evenson’s sports car and stopped.

He glanced at the vehicle, clearly impressed.

"Nice car, buddy. Illegal parking. That’s a sixty-dollar fine."

Before Evenson could respond, the officer pulled out a ticket, slapped it against the windshield, and drove away.

For several seconds, Evenson simply stared.

His expression had gone rigid.

The muscles around his eyes twitched as he watched the parking ticket flutter in the breeze.

Then he looked toward the pickup.

Something in his expression changed.

He turned around, opened his car door, climbed inside, and started the engine.

A moment later, he reversed the vehicle and parked it properly along the roadside.

Steve slowly released the brake.

Natasha stared.

The tension that had filled the pickup only moments earlier seemed to have vanished completely.

"...Where did all that dramatic tension go?" she muttered.

Before Steve could answer, someone knocked on Natasha’s window.

She reacted instantly.

Her feet slammed against the dashboard, propelling her upward and out of the passenger seat. She landed directly in Steve’s lap, twisted her body backward, and drew her pistol toward the window in one fluid motion.

Then she saw the face outside.

A pair of dead, deeply resentful eyes stared back at her.

"Seriously?"

The woman outside looked thoroughly offended.

"You change your appearance and disappear on me for all this time, and the first thing you do when we meet again is climb into another man’s lap and point a gun at me?"

Natasha froze.

"Sarah?"

Her grip on the pistol trembled slightly.

Of all the people she had expected to encounter, Sarah hadn’t been one of them.

And Evenson had brought her along.

Which meant the woman Natasha had spent so much time trying to avoid was standing right outside her window.

The situation was almost too absurd to process.

Sarah, however, showed no sign of wanting to fight.

Instead, she leaned against the window and regarded Natasha with an unusually serious expression.

"Little Natasha, I’ve had a lot of time to think."

She sighed.

"I like you. And because I like you, I need to accept every side of you, including the one you’re showing me now."

Natasha blinked.

Sarah continued.

"I distanced myself from you because you stopped wearing makeup. That was shallow of me, and I’m sorry."

"...Sarah."

Natasha raised an eyebrow.

"I appreciate the apology, really. But could we perhaps have this conversation at another time?"

"Of course."

Sarah straightened.

"How about the back seat? There’s more room back there, and it’ll give someone else a chance to take your place."

A faint blush appeared on Natasha’s cheeks.

Then she caught the implication.

"Someone else? You mean your boss?"

"That’s me."

A gust of wind swept past the other side of the pickup.

Natasha turned her head.

Her eyes widened.

Steve reacted almost instinctively, pushing her out of his lap.

She tumbled sideways onto the seat.

"Hey!" Sarah protested. "Be careful! What if you hurt her?"

"I’m fine," Natasha said quickly.

She had already lowered the passenger seat and scrambled into the back.

Sarah followed immediately.

There was a perfectly good reason for their sudden commotion.

The person standing outside Steve’s window was Peggy Carter.

Natasha suddenly remembered the conversation she’d been having with Steve only a few minutes earlier.

She had been teasing him about getting intimate with her.

Now Peggy had arrived.

And somehow, the situation felt remarkably similar to being caught cheating.

Except that both sides had arrived to catch them.

Steve, on the other hand, couldn’t have been happier.

He looked at Peggy and smiled.

"You came back."

Unlike Natasha, he felt no embarrassment whatsoever.

What could be more reassuring than having the woman you loved beside you during a crisis?

Especially when that woman was arguably a better fighter than you were.

"Yes. I’m back."

Peggy’s expression softened.

She climbed into the driver’s seat beside Steve, the green flames reflected in her eyes giving way to something far gentler.

"Sorry I disappeared for so long. Things were complicated. I needed to investigate some matters personally."

"What matters?"

"The same ones you’re investigating now."

Steve’s smile faded slightly.

"Then... does Nick Fury know?"

Peggy paused.

The Ghost had brought back a specially prepared recording. Nick Fury should already have seen it.

"Of course he knows."

Steve’s expression darkened.

"Did he send you?"

Peggy didn’t answer directly.

Instead, she asked, "What did he tell you?"

Steve thought back to his conversation with Fury.

"He said he hadn’t ordered you to do anything. No assignments, no instructions. Nothing. Was that true?"

Peggy smiled faintly.

"Well, you can choose to believe that."

Steve stared at her.

What kind of answer was that?

The truth was the truth. A lie was a lie.

And Fury had apparently managed to find a third option: saying something misleading while leaving everyone else to figure out what he meant.

That bald bastard really couldn’t be trusted.

"All right, everyone. Have you finished catching up?"

Evenson had finally walked over to the pickup.

He looked at the crowded cabin.

"Could someone make room for me?"

Peggy glanced toward him.

"He’s been involved in the investigation as well. He’s one of the few people in S.H.I.E.L.D. who actually knows what’s going on."

Natasha nodded slightly from the back seat.

That made sense.

Fury wasn’t the sort of man who would leave everything to chance. He must have noticed something wrong with S.H.I.E.L.D. long before the current crisis and quietly arranged contingencies.

Unfortunately, events had developed faster than expected, preventing those plans from taking effect when they were supposed to.

Still, it wasn’t too late.

Steve, however, was thinking about something else entirely.

So you’ve been spending all this time working with my girlfriend?

And you didn’t think to tell me?

Some friend you are.

Evenson noticed his expression and spread his hands.

"Don’t look at me like that, Captain. We were working together. Strictly professional."

Peggy glanced between them, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"What are you thinking about, Steve?"

"Nothing!"

Steve turned toward her immediately.

His answer came out so quickly that even he seemed surprised by it.

He then looked back at Evenson.

"Don’t you have your own car? Why are you trying to squeeze into ours?"

"My car is too conspicuous."

Evenson gestured toward his black sports car.

"If I follow you, I might as well put up a sign announcing our location to everyone watching."

He turned toward the vehicle and raised his voice.

"Take it for a spin!"

Everyone watched as the sports car began moving on its own.

For a moment, Steve and Natasha exchanged glances.

Was this some kind of magical self-driving system?

The car rolled closer.

Then they saw the driver.

A Siberian Husky sat behind the steering wheel, tongue hanging out of its mouth.

Its front paws rested on the wheel while its hind paws operated the pedals.

The dog handled the controls with remarkable precision.

The vehicle moved smoothly along the road, almost as though it were being driven by an experienced professional.

"Remember, don’t scratch the paint!" Evenson called after it. "Not a single scratch!"

Steve stared at the departing vehicle.

Then he looked at Evenson.

"That... dog..."

"That’s Hubs," Evenson corrected immediately. "And show some respect. What do you mean, ’that dog’? He’s a perfectly respectable member of the household."

Steve hesitated.

"Right. Hubs. Does he... have a driver’s license?"

Evenson looked genuinely horrified.

"Wait. Are you telling me dogs need driver’s licenses in America now?"

He shook his head.

"Unbelievable. What is this country coming to?"

Then he looked around the pickup’s cabin.

"Anyway, where am I supposed to sit?"

Sarah was already holding Natasha’s arm in the back seat.

Peggy had interlaced her fingers with Steve’s.

Both women answered at almost exactly the same time.

"The truck bed is empty. Go sit back there."

Evenson stared at them.

For a moment, he seemed to consider arguing.

Then he glanced at the two occupied seats, sighed, and turned toward the back of the pickup.

Apparently, even saving the world didn’t guarantee you a comfortable seat.