“Okay, I understood about three words of that, but if I got that right, you have a way of letting your friends know where to find us and no one else should be able to work it out?”
“Exactly. You’re getting the hang of this,” Katherine said.
Her smile was obviously forced, and he could see the panic trying to force its way up and through it. He grabbed her hand.
“Katherine, it’s all going to be okay. I promise. Now, let’s get out of here.”
Slowly, leaning on Katherine for support, Steve staggered out of the apartment, almost collapsing as they walked into the empty hallway. He slumped against the wall of the elevator as they descended, trying not to let on how close he was to falling over. The lobby was deserted, and they made their way onto the street. Lightheadedness washed over Steve and he stumbled, grabbing a lamppost just in time to stop himself from falling face first onto the pavement.
“Steve. Steve.” Katherine shook him, concern on her face. “Stay with me, please!”
Her phone chimed and she snatched it. The light of the screen illuminated the look of relief that bloomed on her face.
“Steve, we only have to make it to the corner.” She grabbed him under the arm and pulled him upright. “You can do it, I know it.”
Steve was so weak that he could barely think or even remember where he was. All he knew was that he was meant to be protecting the young woman who was moving in and out of focus, and that he couldn’t let her down. He summoned what strength he had left, and followed her. He had no idea how long they stood at the corner before the van pulled up. It felt like hours, but it could have been mere minutes.
The vehicle itself was nothing out of the ordinary—a battered white panel van that would have looked at home on any building site or in any mall parking lot in the country. It sat idling at the curb for a moment, and then the side door slid open. Three men in ski masks carrying stubby semiautomatics jumped out, covering Steve and Katherine with their weapons.
“What’s the code word?” one barked at Steve and Katherine.
“Hey, calm down! What’s all this?” Katherine protested. “I thought you were a peaceful protest movement.”
All three of the guns were pointed at Katherine now, and Steve tensed, hoping he would be strong enough to take whatever opportunity might present itself.
“The code word,” the man yelled. “Now!”
“Okay, okay,” Katherine said. “It’s panopticon.”
After a moment’s silence, the three men visibly relaxed, guns dropping to point at the ground.
“Sorry things have gotten out of control,” the first man said. “We can’t be too careful.” He turned to the other two. “Get them into the van.”
A pair of strong hands grabbed Steve and he felt himself being lifted into the van. Then everything went black and he knew nothing more.
Chapter 9
Location Unknown: Time Unknown
Steve woke in a strange bed in a strange room. He turned his head to the side and saw no other furniture and no carpets—just bare floorboards and a door reinforced with metal bars. It was an improvement on his last lodgings in one significant way—it was spotlessly clean, almost sterile—but that was small consolation. Then he saw the stand holding the IV drip that was inserted in his arm. He slowly and gently pulled the needle from his vein, ignoring the slight stab of pain, and let the tube fall to the ground.
At least he wasn’t restrained—that was something—and he tried to sit up. The pain was bad, very bad, and he blacked out for a moment. When he came to, he had no idea how much time might have passed. He was much more cautious this time. Slowly, he lifted one leg out of the bed and placed his foot on the floor, and then followed with the other. Grabbing the bedhead, he eased himself to his feet and stood for a moment, heart hammering in his chest and sweat pouring from his brow. He gripped the cold metal of the bed frame with the desperation of a drowning man, knowing that if he fell, he wouldn’t be getting up for a long time—at least not under his own power.
It had been a long time since he had felt this battered. Taskmaster had really done a number on him. He knew that he would heal in a few days, a week at most, but in the meantime, every part of his body ached. Once the lightheadedness passed, he made his slow, shuffling way to the door. The bars were three-inch steel, but it may as well have been ten or twelve inches for all the chance he had of getting through them. At full strength he might have been able to bend them, or rock them back and forth enough to fatigue the metal and eventually snap it, but he was a long way off being able to do that. He made his painful way back to the bed and lay down again. There was no point wearing himself out or injuring himself further by yelling or hammering on the door. Someone would come eventually, and he would deal with the situation as it arose, but until then, he would take whatever rest he could. He was an old enough soldier to know that a little bit of strength might be the difference if it came down to it.
Sometime later, the sound of bars clicking back and the squeal of badly maintained hinges snapped him from slumber to full alertness in a split second. He took his time sitting up, though, not wanting to give away how badly he was hurt. There were two men—one in a doctor’s white coat, the other still in a ski mask and holding a submachine gun that had the distinctive blocky look of a Micro Uzi, or its knock off. The doctor was slender but moved with an awareness of his body that only exceptionally good athletes possessed. He had ginger hair that was swept back from his temples, almost reaching his collar, and wore tastefully rimmed glasses.
The armed man possessed an aura of quiet competence. He made no unnecessary movements, and constantly assessed his surroundings, eyes flicking to Steve whenever he shifted. Steve had spent plenty of time around men like this, and he would have bet money that the man had a combat record. Even with the ski mask, Steve picked him as the one in the van who had been giving the orders—the man’s build gave him away. His body language reassured Steve despite the gun; the man was alert but relaxed, and his finger wasn’t on the trigger, but resting on the guard.
“Relax,” the doctor said in a soothing voice. “You’ve been beaten very badly, but you will recover, given time and rest.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed. I figured I must have fallen in the shower or something.”
“Now, now. No need to be snide. I have been looking after you, after all.”
“Sorry, being beaten like a rug has brought out the worst in me.” He actually was sorry—mostly.
“You’ll be back to your old self in no time. You really do have a remarkable constitution, Mr. Rogers.”
Steve tensed.
“Who told you that name?”
“Don’t worry, it’s not a big secret. We do have televisions here.”
“Fair enough. Steve is fine, anyway,” Steve said. “And you are?”
“Clive will do,” the doctor said. “And this is my friend . . . ah . . . Karl. Karl, you can take the mask off now.”
“Thanks for that. I felt like an idiot with it on.” Karl pulled off the mask, revealing rather sensitive and finely-drawn dark-brown features under a shaved skull. He smiled at Steve.
“I’m a big fan,” Karl said. “So’s the doc.”
“Nice to meet you both. So why am I in here, behind a barred door, if you’re both such big fans? It isn’t very hospitable.”
“Just a precaution,” Clive said soothingly. “We didn’t know what state of mind you might be in when you woke up, and we didn’t want any . . . misunderstandings.”
“How long have I been out?” Steve asked.
“Almost a day,” the doctor replied. “Twenty hours, to be precise. I don’t think you were ever in any real danger, but I took the precaution of putting you on a drip to keep your fluids up, and keeping you sedated until your vital signs leveled out.”
“Well, I can’t imagine how I could feel worse
than I do right now, but I appreciate your help, doctor,” Steve said. “I owe you one. I hope we don’t end up on different sides—that would be distressing for both of us.”
The man with the gun laughed.
“Now, that’s how you deliver a threat without being so crass as to come out and say it,” he said. “Very classy.”
“I don’t make threats,” Steve said. “I find I don’t need to.”
“Please, gentlemen,” the doctor said. “Let’s not get off on the wrong foot. Steve, we’re on the same side. We want what you want.”
“And what’s that?” Steve asked. “What is it that you think I want?”
“Like you, we want to keep Katherine safe. She has something that we want very much, and we want to make sure that it doesn’t end up in the wrong hands.” Clive smiled. “So, we can be friends, no?”
“Let’s just say not enemies for now . . . no?” Steve replied. “So, where is Katherine?”
“She’s fine, she’s upstairs talking to Gary,” Clive replied. Noting Steve’s look of enquiry, he explained. “Gary is our leader, if you’d call it that. More of a first among equals.”
“I want to see her,” Steve said. “I want to know that she’s okay.”
“You need to rest,” the doctor said. “You aren’t being kept from her, but there’s only so much the body can take, even yours.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Steve said.
Slowly, ignoring the pain that swept through his body in an incandescent wave, Steve got out of the bed. With a supreme act of will, he straightened, unwilling to let the other men see how weak he was. Karl was expressionless—though a grudging respect lurked in his eyes—but the doctor looked flabbergasted.
“I never would have believed it possible,” he said. “Well, Mr. Rogers, if you feel up to it, we’ll take you to see Katherine.”
Steve dressed slowly, trying not to betray how much pain he was in, but every so often he would gasp as a stitch pulled or a muscle stretched against a sprain. Finally, the ordeal was over and Steve was fully dressed in reasonably well-fitting clothes, wrung out and feeling weaker than he’d ever been, even before the serum had changed him. The three men walked toward the door, Steve stumbling slightly a few steps from the bed. He felt a strong hand take his elbow, holding him steady. He tried to pull away, but the grip was too strong.
“Steady, Steve,” Karl said. “It’s okay, everyone needs a helping hand sometimes. Nothing to be ashamed of.”
Steve relaxed and let the other man assist him. The corridor was as bare as the room had been, the walls no more than brushed concrete with a few safety lamps bolted to them. There were a number of doors that opened on empty rooms. Some were outfitted in the same sparse manner as Steve’s, while others seemed almost luxurious in comparison, with furniture and even carpeting. Steve wondered what the criteria for getting one of those rooms were, and decided it didn’t really matter.
They reached an elevator at the end of the hall and Steve let out a sigh of relief. He hadn’t relished the thought of stairs at all. The ride up was silent—Steve had no breath to spare on conversation, and the other two men didn’t seem to be in a talkative mood. The view as they stepped out of the elevator was a stark contrast to floor they had come up from. It was an airy office space, with open-plan desks and tasteful art prints. It could have been any of a thousand IT companies catering to the city’s business interests.
“A front for the organization?” Steve asked the other men.
“In a way,” the doctor replied. “But it more than pays for itself—the business is actually rather profitable.”
“We attract some of the best and brightest coders and programmers in the business,” a voice said. “It puts us in a great deal of demand, and all the money goes toward our other work.”
The man speaking was dressed in a conservatively-cut business suit, his attire strikingly at odds with his long, black hair and bushy beard, and giving him the look of a lion that had dressed up to allay the fears of the animals around him. He had strong features and a curved beak of a nose, but it was his eyes that concerned Steve. They burned with a fire he had seen before—that of the fanatic utterly committed to his cause. Religion, politics, race—whatever the cause was, this was a man who would sacrifice anything to advance it. Or anyone.
“Please, Mr. Rogers, come this way,” the man said. “Katherine is waiting in the boardroom, and I want to tell you all about the work we do here.”
Steve followed the man into a boardroom dominated by a long table with a large plasma screen at one end. Smaller screens were built into the table itself, each with a small set of controls and a microphone on a flexible stem that was set in front of a leather chair.
Katherine sat at the far end of the table, playing on her phone. Their entrance caught her eye, and when she looked up and saw Steve, she bounced to her feet and almost ran the length of room. She moved to throw her arms around him, then got a good look at him and her arms fell to her sides.
“You look awful, Steve.” She sounded as if she was about to burst into tears. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll survive,” Steve said. “But thanks for being considerate and not squeezing; I think that might have broken me.”
As awful as he felt, he was relieved to see that Katherine looked unharmed. In fact, she looked as relaxed as he had ever seen her.
“So what have you been doing for last twenty hours?” he asked.
“While you’ve been lazing around in bed, you mean?” she teased. “Gary has been telling me all about their work. It’s pretty amazing.”
Steve didn’t like the note of admiration he heard in her voice, but he didn’t say anything. Oblivious, Katherine continued talking.
“And I’ve been talking to Karl—I think you two are going to get along. He’s fascinating—he’s been to about a hundred different countries, and he was in the Army.”
Karl coughed behind Steve. “Ah, Marines actually.”
“Oh, okay.” She didn’t seem very embarrassed by the correction. “Kind of the same thing, right?”
Steve and Karl shared a look of mutual understanding.
“Very much not the same thing,” Steve said. “Neither really like getting mixed up with the other at all.”
“You can say that again, Steve,” Karl said. “Marines eat you Army boys for breakfast.” He grinned as he said it, and tipped Steve a wink.
“Right now, I think even a Marine could eat me for breakfast,” Steve said. “About the closest they’d get to an easy fight, anyway.”
“Oh, burn,” Karl said.
Katherine was looking at them both strangely.
“Are you two boys finished?”
The two men laughed.
“Yeah, I think so,” Steve said. “So, what have you found out?”
“How about you let me present the information to Mr. Rogers?” Gary cut in. “Let him process it the way you did.”
Steve expected Katherine to object, but instead she just nodded.
“Sounds good, Gary.”
Gary strode to the rear of the boardroom and stood in front of the screen. He surveyed the room as if it were a crowd of hundreds, rather than just the few people currently present.
“Welcome to the Freedom Foundation. Our mission is twofold. On a political level, we oppose all forms of internet regulation, with the underlying philosophy that information should be free and that no government should be trusted to control its flow. Part of this is supporting political candidates whose positions align with ours, advertising, and championing appropriate legislation. We also try and provide free and accessible technology to people in countries that don’t have the infrastructure we take for granted.”
He paused and surveyed the room.
“Secondly, where political means fail, we take more direct action. That might mean electro
nic espionage against agencies that support curtailing rights, or more physical campaigns.”
“Like bombing politicians’ campaign offices?” Steve asked.
Gary stopped and glared at him. Steve was taken aback by the look of rage that crossed the man’s face before he composed himself and the mask of benign authority fell back down. He was obviously not used to being interrupted—or questioned.
“Sometimes these things are necessary. No one has been harmed by anything we’ve done, and the cause justifies a few gutted offices.”
“I’ve heard that line of thinking before,” Steve said “And it never ends well.”
“I can’t remember asking for your approval,” Gary replied. “If I recall correctly, it was my men who rescued you, and my doctor who patched you up.”
“And we appreciate it, we really do,” Katherine said. “I think Steve just wants to make sure no one is going to get hurt. Right, Steve?”
Rogers grunted noncommittally, but didn’t interrupt again as Gary ran through the Freedom Foundation manifesto. It was standard activist group language, and after the first five minutes or so, Steve zoned him out. Instead, Rogers thought through ways of getting out of this place when the time came. He knew that he would have to wait until he was in better shape, but he now had a new concern, one that made time a precious commodity.
Katherine was listening with shining eyes. The fact that she was so obviously enthralled by the speech, despite having heard it before, told Steve that Gary had really done a number on her. There was no doubting that the man was charismatic, but Steve had become immune to magnetic personalities a long time ago.
Gary had stopped talking and was now looking at Steve expectantly.
“Look, Gary, this is all beyond me. I’m simply here with Katherine, so whatever she wants to do is fine with me,” Steve said, playing the dumb grunt act for all he was worth. “But I will say that I’m grateful for you taking us in, and for the medical attention.”
Marvel's Captain America: Sub Rosa Page 9