“Done.”
Ava paused as the TSA agent walked past her, slapping a pack of gum on the counter. She grabbed the Islanders jersey from Alex, lowering her voice as she did. “Now your shoes,” she said, looking down at his feet.
“What about them?” he whispered back.
“Get rid of them,” she hissed.
His voice grew louder. “Are you kidding me?”
She shot him a look.
He lowered his voice again, whispering loudly, “Who buys shoes at the airport?”
The TSA agent left. She put her cap down on the counter and yanked Alex’s off his head. “We’ll take these.”
She turned back to Alex, keeping her voice down as she spoke. “You don’t think an agent like Romanoff noticed your shoes? The first thing she’s going to do is alert the Feds to look for a kid in Nike fencing sneakers.”
“You think?”
Ava shrugged. “She knows it’s harder to get new shoes than a cap or a sweatshirt. I’m surprised we even made it through security without getting pulled. She must really be off her game.” She pulled a hundred-dollar bill out of Tony’s money clip. “Shoes. Off.”
“Fine,” he said.
Ava glanced at the cashier, a surly-looking bald man trying his best to ignore her. “Excuse me. Do you know where my boyfriend could get new shoes?”
“That’s right. I’m her boyfriend.” Alex grinned.
The cashier didn’t look up from sorting a pile of receipts. “Mazel tov.”
“He just stepped in something really gross,” Ava improvised. “You know. I guess someone really doesn’t like to fly.”
“Just clean them off in the bathroom,” the cashier said, still not looking up. “That’s what I do.”
Ugh, disgusting. Ava frowned. “We tried.”
The cashier grunted and pointed to a boutique across the way. “Only shoes in the terminal.” Then he looked at her. “Seriously. Who buys shoes at an airport?”
“See?” Alex said.
“Size twelve,” Alex said to the saleswoman. “And we’re in a hurry.” Ava leaned against the open glass doorway, tallying the faces that passed by in the crowded terminal.
Restroom attendant. Another cop, different badge.
Gate agent. Mother with stroller. Teen taking selfies.
No familiar faces. We’re good.
“Our sizes are French,” a bored-looking saleswoman said. She had a scarf twisted around her neck in a complicated knot that made Ava tired looking at it.
“Yeah?” Alex just looked at her. “So are my fries.”
She frowned.
Alex shrugged. “Just a joke. Sorry, that would have been funnier if we’d actually had time to go to Five Guys, like I wanted to.”
“Alex,” Ava warned. She averted her eyes as two police officers suddenly stopped in front of the boutique.
Come on, guys. Why would cops want to hang out here?
You’re just blocking my view.
She pretended to try on a scarf in a mirror until they moved on. Then she put the scarf down on the counter behind her, noticing the price. “Is that for real?” She looked incredulously at the saleswoman.
Now two Chinese-looking girls floated into the store, chattering away in Mandarin.
Mainlanders. Accent sounds like Chengdu.
“Cute boy.” The first girl looked at Alex.
“Do you think that’s his sister or his girlfriend?”
Ava pushed her hand against her head. Natasha Romanoff must have pretty decent Mandarin. Because you shouldn’t even know that was Mandarin, on your own.
You have your hands full with English.
The saleswoman ignored Ava, looking at Alex. “The shoes. What style?”
He shrugged. “Style? Something with good, you know, grip. That I can run in. And that won’t slip if I only have one foot on the ground.”
The saleswoman raised an eyebrow. “Where would the other one be?”
“In someone’s face,” he said. “Or maybe a door.”
The saleswoman looked at him blankly.
“Alex,” Ava said from the doorway, her eyes still on the passing crowd—and him—and the Chinese girls—and every security camera within fifty yards.
Alex smiled. “Just a joke. See? I got you again.”
“Look. He’s looking at shoes,” one of the girls said still in Mandarin.
“Who buys shoes at the airport?” The other laughed.
Ava shook her head, picking up a belt from the counter. She kept listening—if only because it was hard to turn it off.
“And why is a TSA agent shopping at Hermès? How well does the TSA pay in New York?”
“Americans are so crazy.”
Ava froze.
TSA guy? He was back? Again?
She angled slightly to see a man in a TSA jacket looking at a display of ties lying across a glass counter behind her. She couldn’t see his face.
Is he the same one from Hudson News? Is he our tail?
The saleswoman pulled out a bright orange box with neat brown trim and placed it in front of Alex.
“Perfect,” Ava said. “We’ll take them.”
The woman looked surprised. “That’s only the box. Don’t you want to look at the shoes?”
“No, we have to go,” Ava said.
Alex looked at her curiously.
Ava inclined her head toward the TSA agent in the back of the shop.
Alex’s eyes flickered in his direction.
Ava slung her arm around Alex, flirtatiously. Whispered into his ear, in Russian. “Do you see a gun?”
He nuzzled her cheek, whispering—also in Russian. “No, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
“What should we do about it?” Ava whisper-kissed back.
She watched TSA guy’s reflection in the mirrored wall as he moved toward a row of large umbrellas, practically weapons themselves. Great.
“Get a room,” said one of the Mandarin-speaking girls.
“Really,” said the other.
The saleswoman opened the shoe box. Inside was a pair of white high-tops with orange-and-black trim and a silver buckle. “Calfskin. Eleven hundred fifty before tax. The Quantum. That’s the name of the shoe.”
“Quantum?” Alex asked. “Wait, that’s the name? Really?”
“Dollars?” Ava asked. “Wait, that’s the price? Really?”
Alex looked at Ava.
The two Chinese girls looked at each other and giggled, leaning in to get a better look at the shoes.
And then the first girl grabbed Ava’s head with both hands, slamming her forehead against the glass counter in front of her—
While the second pushed off against the counter to dropkick both boots into Alex’s gut.
“Chush’ sobach’ya!” Ava cursed, yanking her head back up as hard and as fast as she could, until she made contact with her attacker’s skull.
THWACK!
Ava heard a loud cracking noise, and the girl dropped to the floor.
The TSA agent looked startled, falling halfway into a row of umbrellas, clutching at his pack of chewing gum.
“Chyort voz’mi!” Alex cursed back, grabbing the girl’s booted feet while they were still lodged in his side, hurling her into a steel-framed hanging coatrack of expensive-looking cashmere coats.
CRASH!
The girl grabbed the rack with both hands, swinging her legs out to catch either side of Alex—but he twisted until she hit the edge of the rectangular steel rail—
THUD!
—and dropped motionless into a pile of coats.
The saleswoman hit the alarm, loud and piercingly shrill.
Alex straightened, picking up his backpack. “Really? Now?”
Ava dumped the sneakers out of the box and grabbed a random pair of shoes off the counter. “Change of plans. We’ll take these….”
“Loafers?” Alex made a face.
“They’ve seen the others.” She pulled a handful of bills out
of her pocket. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Are you all right? I’m so sorry.” The saleswoman shook her head, shouting over the noise. “If you wait for a minute, we can file a police report.”
“Sorry, plane to catch!” Alex shouted back, dropping the shoes and jamming his feet into them.
“She must have really wanted those Quantums. Eleven fifty is pretty steep for some people—maybe she thought she could try to shoplift them and run?”
The money was on the counter and the shoes were out the door before the woman could stop him.
Twenty minutes later they were somewhere in the air over the Atlantic.
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: So tracking their airline tickets was a dead end?
ROMANOFF: Not a dead end. But we didn’t have a read on the stolen passports until much later, so we didn’t know what names they were traveling under. All we had was facial recognition software and a whole lot of real-time JFK security footage.
DOD: From a girl who knows how to avoid security cameras.
ROMANOFF: Exactly. If Ivan hadn’t already had muscle in every New York airport, it would have been even harder. But he had eyes on the airports, and we had eyes on his eyes--
DOD: And you were all looking for Ava?
ROMANOFF: One way or another.
DOD: But Ivan’s guys found her first?
ROMANOFF: He tried to have two Triad pick her up at Kennedy.
DOD: How did that pan out?
ROMANOFF: It didn’t. But it gave us one critical detail. We knew we were now looking for a boy in a pair of Richie Rich high-tops.
DOD: Funny how it always comes down to the shoes, doesn’t it?
S.H.I.E.L.D. TRISKELEON BASE
THE GREAT CITY OF NEW YORK—
EAST RIVER
“Grounded for life,” Natasha said. She’d made her way out to the perimeter of the base, but then retreated back to Tony’s disaster scene of a lab to scroll through security footage. Four fully trained operatives had been hauled away by medics. When they had come back to consciousness, they’d been more embarrassed than anything else, but that didn’t change the situation: Natasha was furious. “Both of them.”
Grounded? What are you saying, Romanoff?
You’ve taken out men for less.
“Sure. You do that. But first you’ll have to find them,” Tony said, watching the footage.
Natasha rewound, stopping the tape at the moment where Ava borrowed the headset from the guard. “Look. She’s faking him out—drawing him in—closing the distance. And—boom. He’s down.”
It was a good move, clever and fast, which only made her angrier.
That ridiculous little—
Natasha slammed her hand on the keyboard. “Sociopath. That’s what she is.”
“Really? Sociopath? The kid?” Tony snorted. “Who do you think invented that move?”
“Shut up.”
Not now, Tony.
She didn’t want to hear it. Even if she knew he was right.
“Come on. It’s textbook Natasha Romanoff. You know it is.” Tony laughed.
“It’s not funny.”
Infuriating. Embarrassing. Humiliating. Irritating. Rude, even.
Just not funny.
“It’s a little funny. That Natasha Romanoff finally meets her match—and it’s what basically amounts to another Natasha Romanoff?” Tony grinned. “I’m personally enjoying the irony.”
Natasha dropped into a chair in front of a plasma screen. “Met my match? Please. I’ll have them back here in twenty minutes—and then I’ll make sure they’re both locked up for twenty years.”
At least.
Longer, if Tony can’t fix the wonder-twin brain leak.
Tony shrugged. “We both know you won’t do that, Romanoff. But they don’t know you won’t. That’s probably why they took off.”
Natasha frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“Because you’re standing here talking to me, right? You’re not calling in the cavalry. You’re not even ringing up Coulson, and that’s usually your first move.”
He’s right. Why aren’t I? Because I don’t know who to trust? Or so they don’t get into even more trouble?
“I don’t need Coulson or the cavalry,” Natasha said finally. “Please, I’m my own cavalry.”
Tony sighed, putting down his screwdriver for a moment. “What you need to understand, N-Ro, is who you’re dealing with. A teenager. I might be able to help you with that. According to Pepper, I haven’t matured much past one.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
“You backed her into a corner and she ran. Sound familiar?”
Of course.
“You’re one to talk.” Natasha glared.
Tony shrugged. “I’m a runner. You’re a runner. I’m not judging. I get it.”
“They both ran. And I didn’t back him into a corner.”
“Ah, well, his motivations are a different story. The oldest story in the book, maybe, but a different story. Boy meets girl and finds her…motivating.” Tony grinned. “I know that feeling.” He leaned forward. “I, too, enjoy some occasional motivation.”
“You are just so classy.” Natasha rolled her eyes. “And you’re not helping.”
“Have it your way.”
“Look. It’s not rocket science. I’ll just do what I would normally do. Start with a trace. Alex has a phone, right?” She sounded determined as she opened a connection to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s mainframe. “First stop, the New York Phone Company.”
Natasha sat back in her chair. “No signal. Not detecting a SIM card.”
Der’mo!
“Good for them. They trashed the phone.”
She sat up. “Okay. Facial recognition.” She hit the keys again. “We’ll search every airport, every train station. They can’t have avoided every security camera in the tristate area.”
Tony looked amused. “Really? Because I’ve seen you do it. Why couldn’t she?”
Natasha frowned at the screen. “She’ll make a mistake. It’s just—well, I’m not getting anything yet.”
Der’mo der’mo—
“Right.”
She sighed and returned to the keyboard. “Fine. I can just search passenger manifests. Airlines. Trains. Bus lines.”
“Yeah?”
Her hands flew. “Got it. She’s on her way to…Tokyo.” Natasha smirked. “Easy. I can be at Narita before they land.”
“Really?” Tony pointed back at the screen. “Because your little blinker-thingy is going off again.”
Natasha looked back at the screen. “And Heathrow. And…Moscow. And São Paulo. And Panama. And Budapest. And Paris.” Her face was growing redder by the moment.
Der’mo der’mo der’mo—
Tony grinned. “Come on. Aren’t you the teensiest bit proud of them? And they say kids today lack initiative.” He shook his head. “It’s great to see the next generation learning from their elders.”
“This is ridiculous.” Natasha sat back in her chair. She didn’t know where else to begin. “It’s like she’s using all my own tricks against me.”
“Of course she is. She literally is. Those are your tricks. Because she has access into your brain, Romanoff.”
But she can’t do it forever.
Just like you can’t hide from yourself forever, Natasha.
She shivered, pushing away the thought. She’d let Ava rattle her enough already. “Stop with the shrink talk, Stark. All of this only means she’s progressed more than we thought.” Natasha stood. “I’ve got to find them. Now.”
Tony picked up a half-burned-out hard drive from the steel lab ta
ble in front of him. “I’ll keep looking into the QE tech. You find Mini-me and Romeo. Just saying, it might take more than twenty minutes, though.”
She grabbed her jacket.
Tony looked up. “Just don’t do what you would normally do. That’s what she knows.”
Natasha paused at the door. “What else can I do?”
“Look at it as a chance to change things up. Be someone new.” He shrugged again. “Who knows? You might find a whole new bag of tricks.” The drive in front of him erupted into sparks. Tony frowned. “Or not.”
“Great pep talk.”
“Anytime.”
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.
// REQUESTED APPENDICES
S.H.I.E.L.D. FIELD BULLETIN
OUT TO ALL OPERATIVES
<< MISSING MINOR ASSETS>>
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UKRAINE AERO FLIGHT 649—
BUSINESS CLASS CABIN
SOMEWHERE OVER
THE ATLANTIC OCEAN
Five hours into the flight, Alex still wasn’t sleeping. He was staring straight up at the ceiling, one arm tucked beneath his head. A pair of abandoned loafers beneath his reclined seat.
He watched Ava squirm in the seat next to him, trying to get comfortable. She had dutifully accepted every offering from every flight attendant, she had marveled at every warm nut or curl of cocktail shrimp, and her tray table was littered with empty cranberry juices. But there was nothing comfortable about where they were now or where they were headed—not even in business class.
Black Widow: Forever Red Page 16