Women In War

12

Minutes after he and Maggie entered from one door, Peggy and Phillips tumbled from the other.

"Colonel, Agent, I thought you were going after Captain Rogers?"

"He's on the Valkyrie," Peggy said.

Maggie let go of the controls Howard had given her like they were hot. "Beck?"

"I assume she's with him. We didn't see her."

"¡Mierda!"

Doug, Morita and Olivier made it to the tower as well. "Base is dead," Doug informed them. "It's just Schmidt left."

Olivier looked around. "Becky?"

"Avec Steve."

"Merde!"

The tower radio crackled. "Come in. This is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?"

Morita grabbed the mic. "Captain Rogers, what is your--"

No one thought anything of Peggy pushing Morita away. "Steve, is that you? Are you alright?"

"Peggy. Schmidt’s dead."

"What about the plane?"

"That’s a little bit tougher to explain."

"Where's Becky?" Howard asked, sharing the chair with Peggy.

"I'm here, Howard," she said.

"Give me your coordinates," Peggy said, "I’ll find you a safe landing site."

"There’s not going to be a safe landing," Steve said, "but I can try and force it down."

"Howard," Peggy said, glancing at him, "Howard, what do we do?"

"There’s not enough time. This thing’s moving too fast and it’s heading for New York." Steve gave a small pause. "I gotta put her in the water."

Maggie was about to get up and leave them to their goodbyes when she heard it. The soft ticking and scratching. It was rhythmic, calculated. Morse code! Maggie had never learnt.

"Howard!" she hissed, "Howard, listen!"

"Please, don’t do this," Pegggy said. "We have time. We can work it out."

"Right now I’m in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer a lot of people are gonna die. Peggy, this is my choice."

Howard leaned towards Maggie and listened.

"It's Beck, and . . . and co-ordinates." He looked up at Maggie with wide eyes. "Get me a pen and paper!"

Maggie pulled one from his shirt pocket and handed him her bare arm.

"Peggy?" Steve asked.

"I’m here."

"I’m gonna need a rain check on that dance."

"Alright. A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club."

"You got it."

"Eight o’clock on the dot. Don’t you dare be late. Understood?"

"You know, I still don’t know how to dance."

"I’ll show you how," Peggy almost whispered. "Just be there."

"We’ll have the band play somethin’ slow. I’d hate to step on your--"

The line went dead. "Steve?"

Maggie hissed slightly as Howard scratched a number out too hard.

"Steve?" Peggy's breath hitched. "St--"