Black Widow: Forever Red

by Margaret Stohl

  “Under my seat,” Oksana said. “And I got all the old fish sticks from the soup-kitchen Dumpster, just like you said. Your precious Sasha Cat should be fine now.”

  “Sumasshedshaya,” Sana added, under her breath. Crazy.

  Ava reached down and pulled out what looked like a battered old attaché case. She looked relieved. “Can you take us to Kennedy Airport, Mr. Davis?” Oksana’s father only nodded, saying nothing as he kept his hands on the wheel and his dark eyes on the rearview mirror, an enameled ballet-shoe charm swaying beneath it. His late wife, Oksana’s mother, had been a dancer with a visiting Russian troupe when she had met Oksana’s father and defected. Oksana and her father hadn’t gotten along since he had remarried, and Oksana had moved out soon after. Now, even when she stayed in the shelter, they still had dinner together every weekend—which was how Ava had known she would have access to the car now.

  “And you expect me to believe any of this? That you’re being hunted by Moscow?” Oksana rolled her eyes. “That you dropped out of the tournament for reasons of life and death—and not that you were too chicken to compete?”

  “Ty mozesh verit’ mne ili ne verit’.” Believe me or don’t. Ava looked out the window.

  “Okay, I don’t,” Oksana said.

  “Ya znayu, chto eto stranno, no ya dolzhen eto sdelat’,” Ava said. I know this is weird, but I have to do it.

  “Ona delayet,” Alex answered with a sigh. She does.

  Oksana glared at him. “Don’t do that; it freaks me out. Speak English, Dream Boy.”

  “Fine. But drop the Dream Boy, thanks?”

  “But you’re just so dreamy,” Oksana said, looking at Ava pointedly. Ava turned back to the window.

  “Crap. Today’s Sunday. I need to call my mom,” Alex said suddenly. “Dante and I are supposed to come home. She’ll think I’ve gotten myself into trouble.”

  Ava looked at him pointedly.

  He turned red. “More trouble, I mean. Slot-machines-in-Atlantic-City trouble.”

  “Not Moscow-assassin trouble?” Oksana raised an eyebrow.

  He shook his head. “You don’t get my mother.”

  “I know,” Ava said, watching cars streak by on the highway. “I’m sorry.”

  I remember mothers, she thought. Bits and pieces of my own. Cinnamon apples. Ballerina dolls. A mug of tea late at night.

  She pushed harder, focusing on the familiar images.

  Gray skies. Cold concrete floors. Ceiling tiles covered in tiny dots. The pen stain on my mother’s lab coat pocket. Barbed wire looping in cursive circles outside as we walked her to work…

  Ava tried to hold on to the pieces that she could, but it was getting harder and harder. “We’ll get in touch with her as soon as we can,” she said, squeezing Alex’s hand.

  They had made only one call before Ava had slipped the SIM card out of Alex’s phone and destroyed it. That was S.H.I.E.L.D. 101, Ava knew.

  No SIM card meant no way to track or hijack the cell signal. The one call they did make had gotten them this far, though.

  Oksana had come, just as Ava had known she would, no matter how much she complained. Ava had also known that they’d come in Oksana’s father’s cab—with the trunk where Oksana and Ava kept their most valuable possessions, the things they didn’t dare leave in any shelter or borrowed basement.

  For Ava, that possession was a S.H.I.E.L.D.-issue attaché case that she’d carried with her since leaving 7B three years ago. And that one bag was the whole reason she had needed Oksana to come now.

  As the cab sped toward the airport, Ava stuffed the contents of the old case into her backpack. She had never known when she might need it, but she couldn’t take any chances. She had been preparing to disappear for years, and she had the feeling the time to go was finally now.

  I’m ready. Even if it’s today, I’m ready.

  Finally Ava reached over the seat and squeezed her best-and-only friend’s shoulder. “Thanks, Sana. We’ll come back as soon as we can, I promise.”

  “We will?” Oksana looked annoyed. Ava couldn’t blame her. Neither one of them had ever heard that word from Ava’s mouth, except when it applied to Oksana herself.

  I know, Sana. I’m sorry.

  Ava couldn’t say the words out loud, but she also couldn’t keep from thinking them. Being hunted and shot at and tracked down was strange—but having someone new in her we now was even stranger.

  She could feel the pressure of Alex’s knee against hers, and the familiarity of it made her blush, even in the darkness of the backseat. It was embarrassing, to openly care about someone like this. It felt dangerous, and also painfully, pitifully new.

  That it was happening in the middle of such chaos only made it a little easier to pretend to ignore.

  Alex changed the subject, looking down at the thick navy booklet in his hands. “This is bananas. I don’t even have a passport yet in real life.” He couldn’t get over the fake passports Ava had produced from inside the innermost pocket of the old attaché case, which had made her smile.

  “This is real life, Alex.” Ava had spent long enough in 7B to know that the holographic S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued passports she’d stolen from the supply room were only the tip of the iceberg when it came to what the organization could do. They were, in terms of operative tech, not just last year’s news, but four years’ past news. And S.H.I.E.L.D. years were like dog years in that respect; Ava wouldn’t be surprised if they got to passport control only to discover that they set off every alarm in the place with their outmoded tech.

  It was a risk they’d have to take.

  “This isn’t what my real life usually looks like,” Alex said. “A big night for me is a night when it’s someone else’s turn to clean out Stanley’s litter box.”

  Oksana groaned from the front seat.

  Ava just smiled. “Well, this isn’t anything all that new for me. Trust me.” By the time Ava had run away from 7B, she’d known better than to trust anyone with her future, and these passports were part of her official plan. While she couldn’t believe she’d had the optimism to steal two—not having ever had an American friend by that point, the second one was strictly wishful thinking—she’d always thought she could barter away the extra for something else she might need.

  Thank God she had it now.

  Ava steadied herself. “We can’t mess this up. I only have two of these, and I don’t have a plan B.” She held the passport in front of him in the backseat of the cab. A split second later, his face appeared in the box where the photograph was supposed to be.

  “Perfect,” Ava said, handing it to Alex. “And you really do look like a Peter Peterson.”

  Alex stared at it. “Peter Peterson? Is that even a real name? Where does S.H.I.E.L.D. get these things?”

  “From dead people. And phone directories. And yearbooks,” Ava said. He shot her a look, and she shrugged. “What? It’s true.”

  “What do you know about yearbooks?”

  Less than I know about dead people, she thought.

  But all she said was, “I’ve seen them on TV.”

  Alex pocketed the passport. “I still can’t believe you just had these lying around.”

  “I told you. I’ve been collecting this stuff since I was nine.” She didn’t let on how deep her collection actually went. The cell-phone microtransmitters and receivers. The latex fingerprint covers and digital face-recognition tech scramblers. Anything she had thought might come in handy when a person wanted or needed to disappear—as she’d always figured she would.

  And it wasn’t just that Ava had scavenged the biggest collection of abandoned spy gear in five boroughs—she’d also spent all those years in 7B learning how to steal it, to hack it, and to use it.

  Maybe she’d been unknowingly preparing for this moment, all her life. Maybe some part of her had known Ivan the Strange would be back.

  Bring it on. I’m ready.

  Ava held up her own passport as she spoke, transferring her fin
gerprints to the sensor inside the cover. “I basically grew up at a S.H.I.E.L.D. field office. I’ve been ignored by spies since you were in elementary school.” Ava flashed her own face onto the passport. “There. Now I’m an American.” She held it up and made a peace sign with her other hand. “Taylor Swift! Captain America! Disneyland! Do I look like a Melissa Johnston or what?”

  Alex raised an eyebrow. “You’re so Johnston it’s not even funny. You’re practically Minnie Mouse.”

  Ava held up the last thing she’d stolen, not from S.H.I.E.L.D. but from Tony Stark. She’d found it inside a hollowed-out copy of Break from Chaos in his open briefcase, which was something closer to a tool kit, only made of fine Roman leather—a thick clip of hundred-dollar bills. She shook her head. “Billionaires and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. They always come so prepared. Always ready to take off, I guess.”

  Alex eyed it. “Looks like someone isn’t planning to take a break from chaos yet.”

  Oksana was wide-eyed, and Ava thrust a wad of bills up to the front seat before she could even ask. “Are those…real?”

  “Yes,” Ava nodded. “And believe me, they won’t be missed.”

  “Are they yours?” Oksana swallowed.

  “No. Now they’re yours.” Ava’s eyes met her friend’s. “Take it.” More than that, they didn’t even have to say out loud.

  What have you done, Myshka?

  Something I can’t undo, Sana.

  But then there was no more time to worry, because the lights of JFK Airport were blaring in her eyes, and the cab pulled over in front of a doorway marked INTERNATIONAL DEPARTURES, and suddenly she was standing at the curb with her only friend in the world.

  As Oksana threw her arms around her, Ava pressed a small, black object into her hand. “It’s a burner phone. Old, but international and untraceable. There’s a number in it. Call us if anything weird happens. Then trash it.”

  “Weird? How weird? You mean, weirder than this delusion of yours?”

  “Sana, I’m not kidding. Strange things have been going on all week. I don’t want you to get dragged into my mess.”

  “I’m already in your mess. Your mess is my mess.”

  “Just lay low. Maybe stay at your dad’s.” Ava kissed Oksana on each cheek. “Just make sure to take care of Sasha Cat for me, will you?”

  Oksana nodded.

  Alex followed with an awkward one-cheek kiss. “Uh, bye.” He looked her in the eye. “You’re a good friend, Sana.”

  “Americans.” Oksana rolled her eyes. Still, Ava noticed she was smiling as she got back into the car.

  Ava shouldered her backpack and stared up at the Kennedy international terminal looming in front of them, Alex by her side.

  She heard the cab door slam, and felt a surge of panic.

  What if this is good-bye?

  What if something happens, and I never see her again?

  Ava turned back and shouted, “You never told me. How did you do, Oksana? At the tournament?”

  A hand shot up out of the passenger window as the cab jerked back into the traffic—waving a gold medal in the air, before disappearing again.

  Ava laughed. Even Alex smiled.

  A gold medal for Sana.

  Maybe, finally, a good omen for all of us.

  Then, without another word, Alex and Ava took each other by the hand and disappeared into the crowd, leaving everything as familiar as an old yellow cab far, far behind them.

  S.H.I.E.L.D. EYES ONLY

  CLEARANCE LEVEL X

  LINE-OF-DUTY DEATH [LODD] INVESTIGATION

  REF: S.H.I.E.L.D. CASE 121A415

  AGENT IN COMMAND [AIC]: PHILLIP COULSON

  RE: AGENT NATASHA ROMANOFF A.K.A. BLACK WIDOW, A.K.A. NATASHA ROMANOVA

  TRANSCRIPT: DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE, LODD INQUIRY HEARINGS.

  DOD: When did you see they were gone? What was the tip-off?

  ROMANOFF: You mean, beyond the pile of unconscious S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives? The disabled security cameras? The four stolen assault rifles dumped without magazines at the entrance to the Triskeleon?

  DOD: A miscalculation by any standard, Agent.

  ROMANOFF: It’s hard to believe it, but I didn’t know, sir. What she was capable of, and how quickly she could make her move.

  DOD: But why did you seek out Mr. Stark--why did you come to the Triskeleon base at all, Agent Romanoff?

  ROMANOFF: It was coincidence, sir. I needed a secure computer

  DOD: So this link between you, it was more than just some kind of on-and-off switch into your brain?

  ROMANOFF: I could never feel it, sir. Not from my side.

  DOD: Let me get this straight. This stray little waif, this homeless Russian orphan, could infiltrate an experienced, decorated operative’s entire mind without her even once glimpsing what she was doing?

  ROMANOFF: Something like that.

  UKRAINE AERO TICKETING COUNTER

  KENNEDY INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT—

  QUEENS, NY

  “Two tickets to Odessa. Leaving as soon as possible,” Ava said to the woman behind the Ukraine Aero counter. Her eyes flickered to the security cameras at ten and two o’clock. She angled her face down by forty-five degrees. Alex did the same, right behind her, as if on cue. After the way they had left the Triskeleon, they weren’t taking any chances.”

  We have to get out of these clothes.

  Black Widow’s probably got eyes on us already.

  Ava closed her eyes and tried to feel some kind of connection to Natasha Romanoff. She couldn’t. However the quantum link worked, she didn’t yet know how to control it.

  Or how to use it to keep her away from me.

  Ava realized she was holding her breath, and she reached for Alex’s hand beneath the counter. He grabbed it, and she felt her insides begin to unclench.

  The attendant at the computer looked up. “You’ll have to stop in Moscow. There’s a flight departing in fifty-five minutes, but I only have business class.”

  “We’ll take it,” Alex said from behind Ava, in Russian.

  “We will?” Ava sounded surprised. She had almost forgotten he could speak it.

  “Of course. It’s a family emergency. Our baba’s on her deathbed. We need to sleep while we can.” Alex shrugged, continuing on in rapid Russian.

  Ava tried not to smile. His accent was aristocratic, almost too perfect. Every time he opened his mouth, she wanted to start laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

  “Besides, our baba always hated economy travel.” Alex put his hand on her shoulder sympathetically. “Do it for her.”

  The airline representative looked at them quizzically.

  Ava counted out half the fat roll of Tony Stark’s hundred-dollar bills, shaking her head. “If you say so, brother. We don’t want to disappoint Baba.”

  The flight attendant eyed the pile of cash. Alex didn’t blame her—it was the most cash he’d ever seen in his life.

  “Papers, please,” she finally said, clicking her long nails against the keys of a computer that seemed older than the airport itself.

  Ava handed over their passports, and the woman examined them. Then shrugged. If there was something fishy going on here, she didn’t want to know about it. She pushed two airline tickets across the counter. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Don’t be sorry yet,” Alex said. “Our baba’s a fighter. Now, do these tickets get us into the lounge?” He smiled innocently. “And are there showers?”

  The attendant raised an eyebrow.

  “Not the lounge,” Ava hissed, pulling him away by his backpack. “Another ticket counter. We’re not done yet.”

  “We’re not?”

  “You think we can just buy a ticket to Ukraine without raising a few S.H.I.E.L.D. flags? They’re probably on their way now.”

  Alex hadn’t considered it. “Good point, moya malen’kaya Romanoff. So we have more tickets to buy?”

  “Little Romanoff? I’m not a little Romanoff. But yes.” Ava pulled out the r
oll of stolen bills again. It was still pretty thick, even if it wouldn’t be for long. “I hope this is enough.”

  “What, are you going to buy a ticket to every airport in Eastern Europe?” Alex asked, eyeing the money.

  “Maybe. Or maybe one on every continent. Can’t be too careful. I grew up with spies—get used to it.”

  “I’m starting to.”

  Thirty minutes and eight airline tickets later—not to mention two more unused fares on the connector shuttle between Kennedy and Newark Airport—Ava found herself trying on a baseball cap at the Hudson News nearest to their gate.

  Black, nylon. I ♥ NY. Cheap and scratchy. It would have to do. Their flight would be boarding soon.

  Ava looked in the mirror, adjusting the Harley-Davidson sweatshirt she’d bought across the terminal. The S.H.I.E.L.D. sweatpants could stay. She checked the crowd behind her for the fifth time in as many minutes.

  One TSA agent. Two JFK Airport police.

  One big Chinese tour group.

  Nothing too obvious. No one doubling back.

  No one appearing twice.

  No familiar faces from the other side of the security line.

  Alex appeared behind her in the mirror.

  She jumped, startled. “Don’t do that.”

  “Just wanted to show you my sweet new lid.” He grinned. “Am I right?”

  He had changed into a navy blue knit cap with a Captain America shield on it and had pulled a red New Jersey Devils jersey over his jacket.

  “Really?” Ava just stared. “You thought those would help you blend in?”

  “There’s no Captain Ukraine,” Alex pointed out. “Plus, this is a hockey jersey. The whole world loves hockey.”

  “Sure they do.” Ava handed him a sweatshirt with the outline of a whale on it. “Now take it off.”

  “That? No. That’s like what half my school in Montclair is probably wearing right now.”

  Ava smiled. “So? That’s a good thing, right? You’ll blend right in.”

  “No. No whales. I have my principles. How about the Islanders?” Alex sighed, pulling the jersey over his head. “As much as it kills me, at least that one’s blue.”