Fourth in the Timeline series |
Clara Lewis never expected to be back in the 1940s and Howard Stark never expected to have to help her get back...again. But with Howard branded a traitor Clara knows of only one person who can help her: Peggy Carter...
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The house had been eerily quiet since Jarvis had been arrested. It was the only thing on Clara's mind as she sat in the library, anxiously biting at her fingernails. Jarvis was in danger. She had to do something but it would risk her own capture and she was of no use to anyone, past or present, if she was in a jail cell.
There was no reasonable explanation for why she was living in the house of a fugitive either. Who would believe she had accidentally time travelled back in time...twice? Clara had no other alternative to sit and wait and pray Peggy would somehow fix everything.
The shrill ring of the telephone almost made Clara leap out of her skin. In her stressed state the chiming of the phone sounded more like an alarm: a warning. Cautiously, suspiciously, she picked up the phone.
"Clara?" The voice on the other end asked.
"Oh, Peggy. Thank God, it's you." Clara sighed.
"Are you safe?" Peggy asked, her voice was hushed.
"Yes. Are you?" Clara asked back.
"For now. Look, I haven't got much time. Do you remember that symbol I told you Brannis drew? Well I found it."
"Really? Well what is it?" Clara asked in excited apprehension.
"It's on a boat down at the docks. Do you still have my drawing of it?" She asked, snapping a little impatiently as Clara fumbled around for it.
"Got it here. Let me guess, you want me to investigate?" Clara asked, it was an easy guess.
"The SSR have released Jarvis, and me for that matter, from custody but they're still keeping an annoyingly close eye on us. I've told Jarvis to head home and stay there. I suspect the SSR will be lurking around. You're our only hope, Clara."
"Because they've already condemned me?" Clara asked sarcastically, smirking despite the fact Peggy wouldn't be able to see.
"Please, Clara? I can barely get away from my desk."
"I'm on it." Clara agreed more than readily, "But this had better not blow up in my face."
*
For a woman, lurking around the docks in the dark was a perilous task. The amount of wolf whistles Clara got for simply walking down the street made her skin crawl. If she hadn't been so concerned with not drawing unwanted attention to herself, she would have bollocked them all. But, suspecting the SSR to be closely surveying her, she decided against giving them a reason to arrest her on the spot.
Once she had finally made it unscathed to the docks, the next task on her list was locating the right boat. She held the scrap of paper with Peggy's clumsy drawing a loft as she walked the length of the pier, comparing each boat to it. At long last, she found it.
It looked surprisingly normal for a criminal hideaway. But then, they all did. That was sort of the point. Clara had gotten quite good at spotting the tell tale signs of criminal activity, but that was in the 2000s. The 40s was a whole different matter.
With one eye over her shoulder, Clara boarded the boat. The heels on her period appropriate shoes clacked ominously on the wooden plank leading up to the boat and reverberated on the metal floor of the boat. From the outside, it looked like a cheap yacht or very well done up house boat but on the inside it was absolutely unlivable. The entirety of it was filled with wooden crates, the contents of which was hardly a secret, not to Clara at least.
The wooden crates were well sealed with four bolts on every side, screwing the lid tightly shut. There was no way Clara was going to be able to open that with her bear hands. The bolts were massive and Clara was very small. Then it hit her, the perfect use for her heels. The heel of her shoes might as well have been stilettos as they were very narrow and almost tapered to a point. Due to the massive size of the bolts, they could, with a bit of force, act as a screwdriver.
With a bit of a struggle, Clara eventually managed to loosen the bolts enough to wiggled them out and open the lid. Sure enough, the crate was crammed full of Howard Stark's inventions.
"Bingo." She whispered under her breath. "Now what?"
*
Clara stood, impatiently tapping her foot, at a payphone not too far from the docks. The only plan she could think of that meant the authorities would find Stark's inventions but not incriminate her was to anonymously tip them off. It sound crazy but it was the only she had. Finally, the call was transferred.
"Agent Sousa, SSR." The voice on the other end rang out. Agent Sousa...oh no.
"Er, this is...an anonymous tip off." Clara said in a ridiculously low, gruff voice to disguise her true identity. Whoever this fooled was surely an idiot.
"An anonymous tip off?" Agent Sousa asked skeptically.
"Er. Yes." Clara stated, "I'm at the...docks." Clara fumbled, she didn't actually know the address.
"Right..." Sousa mumbled from the other end.
"Howard Stark's inventions are on a boat." Clara mumbled again.
"A boat?"
"Yes. A boat. Called..."Clara said, looking around for the blasted name, "The Heartbreak."
"Are you serious?" Sousa asked, clearly not believing her, or him because of Clara's stupid voice.
"Yes, I'm bloody serious." She snapped, almost forgetting to put on a gruff voice. "You want them or not?" She asked the hung up and sighed- few- that was difficult.
