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There's a crunch of gravel under the boots of an older gentleman with white hair and a perfect mustache. He comes in peace. Or at least not in his military fatigues. Doing Kennedy's dirty work usually comes with a uniform, but what Thunderbolt Ross has come to realize is that some missions need to be done with a bit of subtlety.
In his hands he has a file. He's studied it over and over again. He got assurances from the AAC that they wanted this gal as an advisor due to her work in World War II. It was his mission to get her for the team.
A trip to get Rogers has already failed and he couldn't be 0 for 2.
*
Clanking sounds come from one of the bays in the garage, followed by the cough of a starter and a sputter of engine. Nope. Thing's not working yet. Another clank sound, followed by an "Ow! Dammit!" Too high a pitch to be any guy named Joe, but probably not a kid, either. The radio is tuned to a jazz station, Nat King Cole currently singing something or other about a monkey and a buzzard. Still, the garage is open, the bays clear, save for the one at the end, where a blue late model Falcon sits, its hood up, the mechanic holding the back of her head with a scowl on her face beside the driver's closed door.
*
"Afternoon," Ross begins as the crunch continues. "Lookin' for a gal named Rachel Mahoney. I understand she works here under the name of Jo. Hoping I might be able to get a conver…" He pauses as he looks at Jo, who bears an uncanny resemblance to the person he's looking for. "Sation…"
*
Rachel Mahoney? Jo's head turns at the man's approach, but her expression shutters at the question. "Well, I'm Jo," she says, wiping her hand on a rag, but not moving from behind the car — or the solid tools beside it. "Who are you? And why are you looking for Rachel Mahoney?"
*
"Ma'am, my name is Thaddeus Ross. I'm a general with the United States Army and have been sent here by President Kennedy. As you no doubt know, our nation found evidence of extra-terrestrials recently. The President is putting together a committee and a task force for to help protect our planet should anything happen." He tilts his head toward her. "We're looking for Mahoney because of her work in World War II for the allies. We desperately need her help."
*
A brow arches skeptically, and Jo studies the general closely. "Help to defend against aliens. That's a bit of a step beyond Nazis, don't you think?" Not, mind, that Hydra was particularly 'mundane' in the grand scheme of things back in the 40's. She knows that.
*
"Well, we need all the help we can get," Ross says tilting his head to her and chuckles. "If you could point me towards Mahoney, I'd really appreciate it. I don't have a lot of t…we don't have a lot of time."
*
Jo continues to study the man closely. She can't decide if he's an ass or just a reluctant messenger boy. Either way, she's seen his type before. A soft sigh escapes her, her lips thinning into a tight line. "Prove to me you're legitimately with the government and the President sent you and I'll consider connecting you with her."
*
"Well, alright. Have you got a phone around here?" Ross says, shrugging his shoulders. He doesn't seem offended at all.
*
Jo stuffs the rag and a wrench into her pocket and comes out from behind the car. With a flick of one hand, she gestures to the counter, where a green plastic dialer sits. "Help yourself."
*
Ross nods and takes the phone. He punches some numbers into the phone, but more numbers than would be usual, even for long distance. "Yeah, it's Ross. Can you put me in contact with him?" Pause. "Thanks, I'll wait."
Ross looks to Jo and gives another shrug of the shoulders. "Sir? Yes, it's Ross. I'm at that …Yes, sir. Absolutely sir. Yes, I'm at that garage we talked about. Need to get Mahoney, but this gal here doesn't bel…Well, I understand that sir. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. I think it'd go a long way, sir. Thank you, sir."
He hands the phone to Jo.
*
Again, a brow arches. Jo reaches out to take the phone from the man — clearly an ass *and* a reluctant messenger boy, now. "Hello?" Her voice is polite, business-like, and carries just the faintest hint of her Irish heritage, overriding her usual American Transatlantic.
*
"Afternoon, ma'am. This is the President of the United States. With whom am I speaking?" The Bostonian accent sounds pretty spot on, and though the sound is altered by the telephone, it's either him or a good hoax.
*
And Jo can discern pretty subtle auditory clues, even through the phone. Both brows rise, now, and she eyes Ross curiously, though there's no mistaking the continued caution in her expression. "Josephine Kelly, sir," she replies. "Mr. President, then?" Again, another glance to Ross. So, maybe he's on the level. Her tone actually sounds mildly impressed — though that's mainly for the benefit of the man on the phone than anyone else. "I'm sorry for the interruption, sir."
*
"It's no problem, Ms. Kelly. I'm just watching John Junior run around the oval office as we're putting together this Act-F group," the President says. "Suffice to say we're hoping we can get in touch with that Rachel Mahoney. From what I've reviewed, and I'm sure you may know this but I was a Navy man myself during the war, Rachel Mahoney was a great help to us. We digging under every rock to get the best and the brightest and the Defense Department gave me a list of names for Ross to contact. Her name is on that list, Ms. Kelly. I realize that a lot of people want to…want to keep their lives quiet now that they're civilians, but we at least need to ask her, you understand."
*
"Mm," Jo agrees. "Yes, I understand." She glances to Ross once more and then adjusts the phone. "I can assume, then, that Mr. Ross is, in fact, the general he claims to be?" It's more rhetorical than anything else. "I'll make sure they connect, then. Thank you for your clarification." Evidently, men in authority don't intimidate her; not even when they're the President of the United States.
*
"Yes ma'am, that is correct. You're more than welcome. And if you can find it in your heart to remember the Democrats next fall, I'd be in your debt," JFK says, smiling into the phone.
*
That actually elicits a chuckle from Jo. "I'll do what I can, sir." She actually did vote for him. The Irish need to stick together, doncha know. "Thank you, again. Goodbye, sir" She extends the phone back to the general and waits for him to make whatever closing remarks he wishes.
*
"Goodbye, Ms. Kelly," JFK says as he hangs up his phone.
"So, if it's not too much inconvenience, Ms. Kelly," Ross says. "If I could get a meeting with Rachel, I'd appreciate it."
*
Jo gives Ross a sweet smile, now, "Why, of course, General," she says lightly. "I'd be happy to connect you with Ms Mahoney. When is a good time for you?" Sure, she could just come right out and identify herself; that'd be easy. But, no matter how much she likes JFK, this man's not in the same category. He can work a little harder.
*
"Well, I'll be in town until tomorrow. I'm going to give another go at Rogers and try and talk to the Fantastic Four. From there, I'm on the road again. Can I leave you my number?"
*
"Please do," Jo replies. "I'll be sure to have Ms Mahoney call you before the afternoon is out. Perhaps you can meet her this evening." Likely some place away from the garage, if Jo has her way. She doesn't want this guy in her home.
*
"Thanks a lot, Miss," Ross says with a faint grin. He hands her one of his cards and looks around. "Nice place y'got here. Have a good night."
*