Red Notice

Chapter 9

Bucky wouldn't ever tell Wilson enough about the Bishop to blow her identity, but he was also starting to wonder if Wilson would even bother. He was almost too invested in their little egg hunt, but Bucky wasn't one to take uncalculated risks. And this is one risk that he would intentionally leave uncalculated simply so he didn't have to think about it.

Fortunately, Wilson got the hint and stopped asking about the Bishop not long after Bucky's sad little admission. It was good, too. If he hadn't, Bucky would have thrown him off the train and gone to Argentina alone.

By the time they arrived in Argentina, Bucky wished he had anyway.

The hike through the forest only meant that Wilson got more annoying which, if Bucky was honest, he hadn't really thought was possible. Another thing he wouldn't have thought possible, though, was that his ridiculous chatter and stupid questions were more entertaining than obnoxious at this point.

"You're just leading us in circles, man," Wilson exclaimed, stopping to lean against a tree.

"I'm following the map," Bucky argued, which was only a little true. He thought that he was following the map. He wasn't sure.

"Then why the hell have we passed this tree three times?"

Bucky ignored him and looked at the map again. According to it, they should be exactly where the bunker was. As far as Bucky could tell, however, there was no bunker nearby.

"If you'd tell me what we're looking for," Wilson grumbled, "maybe I could help with the goddamn navigation."

"An old bunker," Bucky told him. He might as well, right? "World War II era."

"Okay, what the hell?" Wilson narrowed his eyes at him. "I thought we were hunting an egg, not a goddamn Nazi artifact."

Bucky was almost impressed that Wilson had figured out it was a Nazi bunker they were searching for, but theoretically, the FBI expected their agents to have a decent handle on history. Nazis flooding South America after the second war was a fairly recent and major event.

"Hitler was an art nerd," Bucky said. Wilson snorted. "Before his death, he sent a lot of his collection to Argentina where he expected to find it after a timely escape. Didn't work out for him."

"It isn't working out for us, either," Wilson pointed out.

Bucky rolled his eyes and handed Wilson the map, saying, "Here, you read the goddamn thing."

Wilson pushed away from his tree and looked down at the map, up at their surroundings, and then back at the map. He repeated the action a couple of times before shoving the map back at Bucky.

"Your map's broken," he said.

"A map can't be broken," Bucky grumbled. In his head, he agreed.

The heat and humidity were a bit ridiculous and Bucky had been sweating since about five minutes into their hike. He'd felt gross and tired since the beginning, but he hadn't wanted to stop until they reached the bunker. Now, with Wilson in agreement that the map was broken, he decided they could at least take a break. Maybe after a rest, the map would make more sense.

With a huff, Bucky slipped his backpack off his shoulders and tossed it to the ground. It wasn't filled with much―just water, some snacks, and perhaps a handgun or two―but it made a weird sound when it hit the ground.

Wilson and Bucky shared a look.

It would be strange, but there was no risk in checking.

Warily, Bucky started kicking up the dirt around where his bag had landed. When he uncovered metal just beneath the dirt, he shouted excitedly and Wilson hurried over to help him uncover the rest of the bunker. The bunker that had apparently been built and hidden entirely underground.