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.

It didn't take long to uncover the door and as soon as they did, Bucky grabbed his bag and they both stepped back. Once Bucky pulled the hatch door up, Wilson followed him down the narrow spiral stairs and into a space that resembled more of a large metal box than a bunker for precious artifacts.

"It's empty," Wilson said, glancing around the space.

"We're not there yet," Bucky muttered, walking over to the wall in front of them.

There was a small hole that―to most people―wouldn't make sense. However, Bucky knew enough about this place from his father's stories to know it was a keyhole and he had the key in his pocket.

"What? Are you on a schedule?" Wilson asked as Bucky pulled a watch from his pocket. "Need to check the time?"

Bucky didn't grace him with a response. Instead, he removed the watch band and lined the watch's face with the four marks around the hole. He pushed the watch head and something in the wall groaned.

Wilson glanced at him. "Where'd you get that?"

"My dad," Bucky replied. He stuffed the watch band back in his pocket. "He was an antiques collector and that―" Bucky jutted his thumb towards the watch face in the wall― "was his most prized piece."

"Did he know it was a key to a Nazi bunker?"

The wall creaked and groaned again before there was a quiet click and it opened which meant Bucky was saved from having to answer Wilson's question. Together, the two of them shoved the door open to reveal a large, dark cellar. Bucky reached for what he assumed was the light switch to their right and flicked it.

"Whoa," Wilson muttered as light flooded the room.

It was huge. Rows and rows of artifacts and art pieces, some covered and some not, were lined up to make a long tunnel.

Warily, they started down the first row, looking briefly in crates and scanning the piles of artifacts for anything that could lead them to the egg. There was no way they'd be able to get through all this stuff in a day and Bucky was a little worried someone had been following them from Spain. The last thing he wanted to do was loiter.

Partway down the first row, something caught Bucky's eye. Some of the things in the bunker were covered, but the way this tarp was lying was intriguing and had Bucky thinking he might know what was under it.

He slipped over to the tarp and pulled an edge back. When he saw smooth black metal underneath, he yanked the tarp the rest of the way off and whistled lowly.

"What?" Wilson turned to look at him.

"Do you know what this is?" Bucky asked, glancing briefly at Wilson who shook his head. "It's a 1931 Mercedes Benz, Grosser 770. I could flip this for twenty-five million dollars. Easy."

"No," Wilson told him. "Absolutely not."

"There are only three left on the planet!" Bucky exclaimed, hoping it might help Wilson see reason. When it didn't, Bucky said, "It has three quarter inch steel reinforced armor plating, bullet-resistant glass, and a twenty-four karat gold inlay. It's practically a tank."

Luckily, he seemed to have piqued Wilson's interest. He took a step towards the car and eyed it. Bucky had half a mind to tease him for not recognizing the car, but he was still trying to convince him to let Bucky steal it so he didn't.

As Wilson eyed it over, Bucky glanced around the bunker.

"How the hell did they get it in here?" Wilson muttered, running his hand over the steering wheel. "You can't carry it down the stairs."

"There." Bucky pointed to their left where another corridor was. Unlike the main hall of artifacts, this one was empty and barricaded at the end. "Connects to an old copper mine. Those tunnels could run for miles and no one would notice."

"That's perfect for a bunch of Nazis bringing all this stuff in," Wilson murmured, looking from the empty corridor to the bunker full of stuff. "Build the bunker in an old mind and seal it up after so no one can get in. That's pretty smart."

Bucky's eye caught on something behind the car and he snorted. Wilson raised an eyebrow and Bucky was sure he said something, but his attention wasn't on Wilson.

There was a crate sitting behind the car and while it was labeled in German, that didn't stop him from understanding it.

He lifted the cover off the crate, revealing the full label instead of just a single word: Ei.

With a laugh, he tapped the side of the box and told Wilson, "They couldn't have been too smart. They put labels on their crates."

Bucky pried open the crate and felt Wilson's eyes on him as he looked inside. As soon as he did, he knew they'd just won the jackpot. Chuckling to himself, Bucky reached inside and lifted up Cleopatra's third egg before turning to face Wilson with a grin.

"Great," Wilson said. "Now let's go."

He turned to walk down the long corridor, but Bucky had a different idea.

"Are you sure I can't flip the Benz?" Bucky asked, eyeing the car. Wilson gave him a look. "I already got a guy."

"Let me save you the trouble."

The Bishop stepped around the corner and Bucky sighed. With a smile, she raised a gun at them.

"All your entrances are bullshit," he grumbled. The look she gave him told him that she didn't believe him which was fair. He'd said it more as an irritated defense than out of honesty.

"You're too easy, James," she cooed. She pointed her gun at Wilson and beckoned for him to rejoin Bucky's side. He did. "All I had to do was let you escape in Spain and follow you to the third egg. Now―" She held out her hand― "hand it over."

She still had her gun aimed at them and Bucky had stupidly left his in his backpack. There was no way he could draw it before she realized what he was doing, but he also didn't really want to shoot her. Again.

He held back a groan and crossed the space to where the Bishop was standing. With every step, her smile grew until he was standing just within reach.

"Good job, Yasha," she murmured in Russian and, for a second, Bucky was too stunned to react. She hadn't called him that since before Odessa and they'd been running into each other for years.

Before Bucky could decide to either hand over the egg or test the waters between them, there was a clang and they both turned to see Interpol Agent Ross with a squad of agents at his heels standing in the entrance.