His
footsteps rapped sharply on the hard floor, echoing loudly in the quiet
hallway. He strode quickly, anger speeding him, his mind clear and focused over
the turmoil clenching his heart. Four armed MPs stood guard outside the
entrance to the cubicle. They snapped to attention and he pushed through the
swinging door without pause.
“O’Neill.”
Teal'c rose smoothly from the chair by Carter’s bedside without relinquishing
his grip on her hand.
“How
is she?” Jack bit the words out as he took in the banks of beeping monitors,
the hovering nurses and the major’s still, pale face.
“There
has been no improvement in Major Carter’s condition. She remains unconscious
and unresponsive. What of Daniel Jackson?”
“Nothing.
We’ve got MPs, police, even FBI crawling all over the park, but no sign of
Daniel. I left Major Davis in charge. Damn.” Jack grimaced with frustration.
Three hours had passed since he’d rung Daniel’s phone and got a New York City
policeman delivering the chilling news that Carter was unconscious and Daniel
missing. He jerked his head toward a corner of the cubicle, out of the nurses’
hearing.
Teal'c
gently placed Carter’s hand on the starched sheet and followed him. “Have there
been any other incidents involving SGC personnel?”
Jack
shook his head. “No. Hammond’s been in contact with everyone on level one and
two security. Everyone is accounted for. The teams on leave are heading back to
Base. Griff and Sanchez were on Chincoteague Island of all places. They’re
diverting here to help out.
“It
would appear then that this attack was directed primarily at Daniel Jackson.”
Teal'c frowned and looked like he wanted to hit someone.
Jack
shared the sentiment. The machinery of the Air Force had swung into action with
crisp efficiency. Major Davis had been pulled out of the Pentagon and choppered
into Central Park like he was visiting royalty. He had immediately taken
command of the MPs, liased with the Captain of the Central Park Precinct
police, and called in the FBI, all within minutes of landing. There were teams
scouring the Park and surrounding streets for signs of Daniel, but Jack knew
with cold certainty that he was long gone now.
Traffic
cameras and CCTV footage was also being pulled in and scoured for clues. A
nation-wide alert had been dispatched to all law-enforcement offices in the US,
Canada and Mexico. Airports, bus and rail terminals, seaports, highways major
and minor were all being placed under close observation. The news media,
usually avoided at all cost by the SGC, were being encouraged to broadcast
photos of Daniel in an attempt to harness the observation powers of millions of
citizens. Jack felt slightly overwhelmed at the size and rapidity of the
response to Daniel’s kidnapping, and yet it wasn’t enough – Daniel was gone,
abused and abducted on the one planet where he should have been safe.
On top
of the outrage Jack felt, he knew -
deep down - that Daniel needed him, desperately needed his help, and he was
powerless to stop whatever was happening to his best friend. Well, not for much
longer.
A
choking gasp of air from the bed behind them had he and Teal'c whipping around.
Carter lurched up, suddenly awake, eyes wild and darting from side to side as
she nearly slid out of the bed.
“Daniel!”
The
nurses leapt to her but Teal'c and Jack got there first. “Carter?”
Teal'c
grabbed and plonked her back on the bed, steadying her swaying body as the
medical staff closed in.
“They
took him! Daniel! Oh, god, I couldn’t move, do anything…. They just took him….”
She shook her head violently and focused for the first time on her teammates.
“Sir, Teal'c, is he…?”
“Daniel
Jackson has been abducted, Major Carter. Even now, the authorities search the
entire country for him. You must give consideration to your own health for the
moment.” Teal'c’s gentle rumble focused her, allowing the doctors to get some
of their observations started.
Carter
frowned, then her face lightened with surprise. “Actually, I feel fine. No,
really….” She unsuccessfully tried to pull her arm out of a BP cuff.
Jack
stepped around the clutch of nurses and caught her attention. “Major, report!”
“Sir,
we were walking through the Park. We
were going to get a cab and meet you at the restaurant. There was a girl,
homeless, sitting under a tree. She was crying. Daniel went to talk to her. He
gave her some money…. She was so grateful she grabbed his hand. We started walking
again, then he noticed she’d scratched his hand.” Carter was sitting straighter
as she spoke, her colour and faculties returning swiftly.
“It
happened so quickly. He got dizzy, stumbled, dropped the bag with the shawl
he’d bought for Catherine. Then he just fell to his knees. I called out for
help but it was a secluded part of the walking path. No one was near. And the
girl had vanished.” Her pale cheeks began to flush with anger. “I had my phone
out, but something hit me in the neck. It must have been a dart. I was
paralysed. Useless. Then four men came. I thought they were going to help, but
they dragged me into the shrubbery. I had to lay there and watch Daniel be
picked up and carried off. I couldn’t yell out. Nobody came. I must have passed
out eventually…. Sir, how long has it been?”
“Three
hours, thirty-seven minutes, Carter. Did you get a look at their faces?
Anything to help ID them?”
“No,
sir. I couldn’t move my head. All I saw were feet – black shoes, black pants.
And Daniel. He was still awake when they picked him up. God….” She shuddered.
Jack
pinned the doctor with a searching stare. “How is she?”
“Vital
signs are all strong. I’m impressed with the speed of her recovery, however
we’ll be keeping her for twenty-four hours observation. Just in case.” The
doctor was middle-aged, capable and unflappable.
Jack
opened his mouth to tell Carter to rest up, but she flung off the sheets and
pulled away from the leads attached to her chest and finger. “Not likely!” She
was out of bed and searching for her clothes before the nurses could hold her
down.
“Carter,
you should really take it easy for a while.”
“Sir,
I feel fine. Honestly – no headache, no dizziness. Whatever they used, it’s
worn off. I’m not sitting on my ass while Daniel needs our help.” She yanked on
her jeans, discarded the bra and t-shirt that had been cut off by the emergency
staff and pulled on her shirt and jacket.
“I
cannot condone this-,” the doctor began.
“I’ll
discharge myself. Thank you for your help, but I’m okay now, really.” She gave
him a winning smile and sat to pull on her boots.
Jack
shared a wry smile with Teal'c and they followed Carter out the door, the
doctor’s protests failing to slow her at all. Signing the paperwork to absolve
anyone and everyone from any responsibility for her care took way longer.
Finally though, they were out of the emergency room, the four MPs shadowing
them and they headed into the warm night where two MP jeeps were parked amid
ambulances and police cars. They bundled into the first jeep, allowing one of
the MPs to drive while they brought Carter up to speed with the situation.
Jack
twisted in his seat. “So, any ideas on who’s behind this?”
Carter
grimaced. “NID would be my first bet. They’d have the resources to pull off
something like this.”
“Hammond’s
working on his contacts. We can’t rule out “other” interests, though.” Jack
privately doubted the NID were behind the abduction. If they wanted Daniel for
whatever purpose, they were more likely to just waltz into the SGC with orders
signed by the president for Hammond to hand Daniel over. No, this was too
well-planned.
“The
perpetrators were aware of our movements,” Teal'c said thoughtfully. “They knew
we would be here in this city, far enough in advance to allow them to plan
their attack.”
“They must
have been plotting this for some time, just waiting to move when Daniel was
away from the safety of the base,” Carter agreed. “Do you think they would have
tried it in Colorado Springs, or was he deliberately lured here to New York?”
Jack
pursed his lips. “Attacking someone in broad daylight, even in their own home,
is going to be noticed a lot quicker in a small city like the Springs than here
in New York. It’s way easier to hide in a crowd. You think they engineered the
invite from Catherine and Ernest?”
Carter
blanched. “God, I hope not. Maybe they were ready to move at a moment’s notice,
took advantage of us being here and attacked.”
The long
ride from St Luke’s-Roosevelt Hospital Center ended at FBI headquarters on
“Sam!
I’m glad to see you up and about. You’re okay?”
“I’m
fine, Paul. Thanks. Any word on Daniel yet?”
“We’ve
got a few leads, yes. If you’ll come this way, sir,” he said to Jack, leading
the way across a marbled entry to a bank of elevators. The doors closed,
sealing the four in privacy. “I just talked to General Hammond. He’s confirmed
that no other attempts have been made on SGC personnel. All off-world teams
have reported in, everyone is safe.”
Jack
nodded curtly. “Good. One less thing to worry about. So, this is all about
Daniel, isn’t it?”
“Seems
so, sir. The general is going over everything that Doctor Jackson was currently
working on, to see if he can find anything that someone might have wanted him
for. He’s also heard back from his contacts – they deny the NID has any
involvement in the abduction.”
Jack
raised his eyebrows but further speculation was cut off when the elevator doors
opened onto a corridor of gleaming metal and marble. Low lighting and muted
voices gave the place the appearance of efficiency and urgency. Davis led the
way past glass-walled offices into a large conference room. Already seated at
the long oval table were several men and women, and two dearly familiar faces.
“Catherine,
Ernest!” Jack held out his hand, shaking Ernest’s even as he leant and kissed
Catherine’s cheek. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”
“Don’t
be ridiculous, Jack. We offered to help the moment the police contacted us.
Daniel is like our son, we can’t believe someone would want to harm him… here.”
Catherine was obviously of the same opinion that Daniel should have been safe
on this planet. “Sam, are you
alright, dear?”
Carter
kissed them both then settled in a chair next to Catherine. “I’m okay. You
didn’t hear from Daniel at all, I guess?”
“No.
We were at the hotel, just about to leave for the restaurant when the police
rang. I can’t believe this has happened.” Catherine looked equally angry and
upset.
The
door opened again, admitting two men. Introductions were brief. “Jack Malone,
Assistant Director of Missing Persons. Special Agent Martin Fitzgerald.” The
dark-haired man indicated the younger man at his side. Moving to a large LCD
screen on one wall, he brought up a display of the city’s streets. “Colonel
O'Neill, we’ve had some good news. Several witnesses in the area of the
abduction reported a white van leaving the scene. We’ve pulled some clear
photos from the traffic control system, and we’ve got a licence plate.”
The
display showed a series of photos of a van pulling away on to
“Though
no-one actually saw Doctor Jackson being put in the van, we have every reason
to believe it was used in his abduction. It was the only vehicle parked in the
area at the time he and Major Carter were attacked that could have concealed an
unwilling occupant. It moved away, crosstown. We’ve tracked it through the NYC
traffic control system. It went directly to Pier 98 at the end of West 58th,
here,” Malone paused as the display changed again, focusing down from a
satellite picture of the Hudson River and the warehouses fronting it, to a
group of abandoned buildings. “The police aviation unit and Major Davis’
helicopter both did a flyover and we got this from them.”
The
screen changed to an aerial photograph of the water by the wharves, murky and
dark, but Jack could make out the pale oblong under the surface: the roof of a
white van. His heart seized for a horrible moment. Surely they wouldn’t have
taken Daniel just to kill him?
Malone
caught his glance, his features grim, obviously thinking the same. Fitzgerald
stepped forward. “We have a team preparing to go in now. Local police have
sealed the area,” he said quietly.
“We’re
going too.” It wasn’t a request and Malone accepted that with a curt nod. As
Carter and Teal'c headed for the door, Jack moved to Catherine’s side,
realising finally that he still held the parcel containing his absurd gift for
Daniel. “We’ll find him. I promise. Would you hold this for me, till we do?” He
placed the parcel in her hands, almost reverently, a physical symbol of the
promise made.
Catherine
caught his hand and squeezed it hard. “Bring him back, Jack.”
Jack
nodded and strode away after his teammates. How
far he had to go before he filled that promise, he had no idea. But fill it he
would, or die in the attempt.
Jack
and his team held their positions behind the ranks of FBI agents and uniformed
police. Armed with pistols loaned from the police, they along with Griff and
Sanchez – swept up as they left the FBI building – and the two teams of MPs,
were in place around the empty warehouses perched on top of Pier 98. The
advance unit signalled the all-clear and Malone’s voice rang out over their
earpieces, “All teams, go, go, go!”
He
moved, swiftly and quietly along the deserted pier, heading for the rusted door
some hundred feet away. The cool, familiar focus of the mind that always came
with a mission swept over Jack and the urgent need to find his friend, make
sure Daniel was safe, uninjured, alive,
urged him on past the uniforms and suited agents. He was third through the
sprung door, leaping into the dimness beyond with the echoing shouts of “FBI,
don’t move!” filling the enormous space of the warehouse.
Flashlight
beams lanced through the dust motes drifting in the warm air. Desperately, Jack
searched, left, right, into every bare corner as he jogged the length of the
concrete floor. Nothing. Not even the requisite stack of empty boxes or crates
for a felon to hide behind. The only thing in the vast room was a small bundle
of cloth, piled in the centre of the floor. Drawn to it like a marionette on a
string, he stepped around the agents absurdly pointing their rifles at it.
“No….”
Fury clenched his stomach. It was just a pile of clothes. Blue jeans, black
leather jacket, red shirt, black boots. Ordinary clothes. Except, they were
Daniel’s clothes - with Daniel’s gold watch, Jack’s own birthday present three
years ago, glinting up from the top of the pile. Disregarding the agent’s
admonishment not to touch anything, he dropped to one knee and lifted a corner
of the red shirt. Black underwear lay neatly folded beneath the shirt. Daniel’s
wallet slid out of a jacket pocket and was picked up by a gloved FBI hand
before Jack’s fingers could smear any possible prints.
“Colonel?”
Malone leaned over his shoulder, inspecting the clothes. “You recognise these?”
“They’re
Daniel’s,” Jack managed over the tight lump in his throat. Wherever Daniel had
been taken, he’d gone there without even the comfort of his own – if any –
clothes.
“Over
here!” The younger agent, Fitzgerald, called from across the warehouse, closer
to an open freight door overlooking the sea. Teal'c stood grimly by his side.
Jack
strode over to them, Carter and Malone on his heels. Four ringbolts set into
the concrete floor gleamed in the twilight coming through the open door. He
stared at the lumps of metal, their purpose becoming all too clear. Set in an
oblong shape, they were wide enough apart to accommodate a man’s body,
spread-eagled and tied securely to the floor. Carter circled the spot slowly,
then caught his eye, coming to the same conclusion – Daniel had been stripped
naked and tied down to the floor.
What the hell did they do to him?
Malone
cleared his throat and ushered them away towards the dock. “We’ll get forensics
in here. They may turn up something. And we’ve got a dive team on their way to
check that van. My guess is they’ve dumped it and left in another vehicle.
We’ve got our people pulling in satellite photos of the area, they’ll pick up
any vehicles in the vicinity over the last few hours.”
“Military
surveillance?” Carter asked.
“No,
actually it’s Google,” Fitzgerald answered with a wry grin. “You’d be surprised
what they come up with these days, and it’s way easier than trying to get
anything out of the CIA or NSA.”
They
walked past the pile of Daniel’s clothes, skirting around the agents and police
now swarming over the building. Their own MPs held the doors, looking
disappointed there was no-one to shoot. Teal'c paused, then called out,
“O'Neill.”
Jack
was back by his side in a flash. “What?”
“Daniel
Jackson’s glasses are not with the rest of his personal effects.”
Jack
squatted down and rifled through the clothes. The pockets of the leather jacket
held only tissues and admittance stubs for the museum. Daniel’s wallet still
held a good amount of cash, his credit cards, driver’s licence and Air Force
consultant’s ID.
He
looked up at his teammates. “So, whoever they are, they need him to be able to
read.” Which meant they needed Daniel alive and in a reasonable condition. A
small comfort. It didn’t help narrow down the list of suspects, though.
“Colonel,
I think we need to be briefed on exactly what it is that Doctor Jackson does
for the Air Force, and who might possibly have need of his skills.” Malone
frowned down at him. “This doesn’t look like your standard kidnapping to me.”
“No,
no it’s not.” Jack stood up, assessing the man and his obvious experience. “I
need to make some calls first. Hope you’ve got good coffee, Malone. It’s going
to be a long night.”
Oh-Five-Three-Hundred
hours. The still-dark streets of New York, some twenty floors below the balcony
where Jack stood, were already humming with people. Like the city, the FBI
offices had never quieted during the night. Malone and his team had worked
through, gathering data from all corners of the city, despatching agents to
question witnesses, sifting, sorting, collating. Jack’s very bones ached with
impatience. He wanted to be out there – somewhere – anywhere – searching for
his friend. And preferably, beating the crap out of whoever had taken him. Dammit.
Visions kept forming in his mind, of Daniel in the hands of people who would
take him, strip him, perform any number of indignities upon him in order to
achieve their goals. Daniel was brave, fearless in the face of armed enemies,
but like this? Alone, reduced to a man’s most vulnerable state, he had to be
scared. And giving them lip. Jack smiled, a brief flash of humour that gave him
a welcome spark of energy. He’d bet anything the kidnappers hadn’t bargained on
getting an earful of Doctor Jackson’s special brand of invective.
At 0600
Jack made a third call to
“The
FBI divers have gone through the van and the water around it – there’s no
sign….”
Hammond’s
gusty sigh of relief blew through the receiver. “Thank the lord. Any further
progress?”
“They’ve
traced the van, it was a hire. They’re bringing in the clerk who rented it,
should be here soon.” As Jack spoke, the elevator doors opened, disgorging
Fitzgerald and another FBI agent, Shovel, Spade, something like that. Between
them they escorted a sleepy-looking young man into an interview room. He caught
Carter’s eye across the open room and with a tilt of his head sent her after
them. “Anything new on your end, sir?”
“Nothing,
son. All SGC personnel are accounted for, both here and elsewhere. We’ve not
received any demands regarding Doctor Jackson’s return. I’ve contacted a lot of
people, Jack. Nobody knows anything and I’m inclined to believe them. There
isn’t even the faintest whisper of suspicion floating around the usual
suspects. In fact, they’re as surprised
and concerned as we are. They don’t want to lose Doctor Jackson any more than
we do. Whoever is behind this, they seem to be a new player on the field.”
“Damn.”
Jack had been hoping Hammond’s contacts throughout the Force and elsewhere
would be able to shake some tongues loose.
“Don’t
worry too much, Jack. They won’t get far. We’ve got a lot of help on this one.
The president has ordered all agencies to give us full co-operation. He
appreciates Daniel’s value as much as we do. We’ll get our boy back.” The
confidence in Hammond’s voice failed to boost Jack’s own spirits.
“Yes,
sir,” he managed. “I’ll check in again as soon as anything breaks.”
“Major
Davis can keep me posted. Get some rest, Jack.”
“Yes,
sir. Goodnight.”
Jack
replaced the receiver and wandered over to where Teal'c stood, hands clasped
behind his back, spine stiff, attention riveted to the video surveillance
footage that two agents were scrutinizing. “Anything?”
“There
has been no progress in discovering the whereabouts of Daniel Jackson,
O'Neill.” Teal'c’s blunt declaration had the agents glancing up defensively.
“This method of investigation appears ineffective.” He scowled dismissively and
turned away.
Davis
walked up to them, balancing a tray loaded with coffee and wrapped parcels. He
deposited it on a table and looked enquiringly at them. “Colonel, Teal'c?
There’s piping hot coffee and egg and bacon sandwiches from the deli in the
lobby.”
Jack’s
stomach rumbled in time with Teal'c’s appreciative growl, both reminded that
they’d missed dinner last night. They settled around the table while Davis, who
still looked crisp and starched despite also pulling an all-nighter, went
through the latest round of negative reports. None of the official bureaus
keeping an eye out for Daniel had reported even the remotest hint of a
sighting. The ports, airports, terminals, even the New York taxi companies –
no-one had spotted him or seen a suspicious vehicle that might have contained a
restrained captive.
“I
believe we should return to the warehouse, O'Neill, and take up the trail
ourselves.” Teal’c demolished his second sandwich and unwrapped a third.
“Remaining here will not help us find Daniel Jackson before he is further harmed.”
“We
don’t know he’s been harmed in the first place, Teal'c,” Jack said, trying to
be optimistic.
Teal'c
flashed him a look that ate right through his artifice. The mere act of taking
Daniel against his will had harmed him, and them.
“Sir!”
Carter came out of the interview room and strode toward them, her face a mixed
expression of worry and renewed purpose. “The rental clerk is nearly a hundred
percent certain that the man he hired the van to spoke with a Russian accent.”
“Russian?” Jack
nearly choked on his last bite of food. A familiar, long-held anger churned up
in his gut. If a Russian were involved in this….
“Well,
it’s only a theory at the moment, Colonel.” Agent Shovel came up behind Carter.
“The witness said the man had a clear American accent, but they got into a
discussion about food while he was waiting for the van to arrive, and he
mentioned liking shchi soup which our witness says is a dish peculiar to
“Did
you get an ID for this guy?”
“Name
on the drivers licence was Roger Thornhill.” At Jack’s blank look, Shovel
elaborated, “Roger Thornhill is a well-known alias. It comes from North By North-West. The Alfred
Hitchcock film?”
Jack
was still in the dark but Teal'c spoke up. “Roger Thornhill was the spy who did
not exist, O'Neill. A person in name only, used to divert wrong doers from the
real agent. It would appear our foe is also an aficionado of classic movies.”
Malone
joined the group, pinning Jack with his calculating gaze. “Has Doctor Jackson
had any dealings with Russians, Colonel? Anyone in his past or recent history
that might have a grudge against him?”
Jack
stared at Carter and Teal'c, then shifted his stare to Davis. “Yeah. Daniel was
in Moscow last year with Davis on some high-level negotiations. From all
accounts there were no problems. Well, apart from the usual unwillingness to
co-operate on the Russians’ side. Davis?”
“Sir,
I can’t think of anyone we met while we were there that would have formed a
dislike of Doctor Jackson,” Davis replied. “I was with him the whole time,
which apart from plane travel was only sixteen hours. In fact, by the time we
left I had the opinion that everyone we’d dealt with had a pretty favourable
impression of Daniel. He speaks fluent Russian and had them all eating out of
his hand.”
Nodding,
Jack looked back at Malone. “We do have another contact in Russia, somewhat
connected with our program. I’ll see if we can get something out of her.” Deep
down, Jack had a feeling that if the kidnappers were Russian based they
wouldn’t be in the visible chain of command. It was possible that they had
discovered Daniel by a familiarity with the Russian Stargate program. Which was
now on ice due to the fact that their DHD was a charred wreck languishing in the
basement of the SGC – and it could be someone blamed that on Daniel.
“Alright,”
Malone said. “We’ve got a lot more avenues of enquiry to cover. Let’s get
started on those. Colonel, I suggest you and your team take the moment for some
rest. We’ll have an update briefing at one pm.”
“Sure,”
Jack replied absently. “Carter? See if you can get in contact with Svetlana,
will you?”
Carter’s
eyebrows rose. “Doctor Markov? Uh, yes, sir.” She looked at Davis who beckoned
her over to the desk he had set up with secured communications linked directly
to the SGC. Jack drifted over to the couches where Griff and Sanchez had
planted themselves and were busily attacking their own breakfast.
“Any
news, colonel?” Griff drained his coffee cup and added it to the pile of wrappings
on their table.
“Could
be there’s a Russian connection behind the abduction,” Jack said.
“Son
of a…. Doctor Jackson turned himself inside out to make them welcome on base
and this is what they do in return?” Sanchez snarled. He looked up at Jack. “Say
the word, sir, we’ll shake it out of them.”
Jack
flickered a brief grin. “I’ll keep that in mind, captain.” He sank down onto
the couch, his head falling back onto the padding, his eyes staring unseeing at
the ceiling. “I don’t think there’s much else you two can do here, now. Why
don’t you go back to your vacation? We’ll keep you updated with any
developments.” Even as he said the words he had a sinking feeling that
developments would be coming few and far between.
Griff
leaned around Sanchez to stare at Jack. “’Preciate the thought, colonel, but
we’re not budging till we find Daniel. He’s a good man, one of our own, and we
don’t let some bastard just waltz in and take him without a fight.”
Jack
rolled his head on the couch back and looked at the two captains. He felt a
surge of pride, not just for two career military men with such unshakeable
loyalty, but also for Daniel’s ability to make men like these care about his
welfare. “Thanks, Bob, Miguel. We value that.”
He
settled back, eyes drifting half-shut as the busy hum of the offices swept over
him. Teal'c was hovering over the agents once again, silently demanding instant
results from their enquiries. Carter and Davis were both on phones and
computers, looking up their woman in Moscow who hopefully could give them some
new leads. Jack let his eyes close and fell into a ten-minute power nap.
Ten
minutes, fifty seconds later his eyes popped open again. Teal'c was still
hovering, Griff and Sanchez talking quietly, Davis was on the computers, and
Carter was looking directly at him. He was up and by her side in quick, long
strides.
“Sir,
I got through to Svetlana. She was understandably upset to hear the news about
Daniel. As you know, most of the people directly involved with the Russian…
project perished in the Siberian base. She’s retrieving the files on those who
are still alive, but she did say that one name promptly came to mind.”
“Who?”
“Colonel
Arseniy Chahine. He was on leave when the incident happened and when the authorities
were trying to account for everyone, he was nowhere to be found. They didn’t
have his body in the facility, he didn’t return from leave and when they went
to his home it turned out to be a vacant plot of land.”
“What?
Surely even the Russians can do a proper security check on personnel working on
their top secret projects.”
“Exactly
my thought, and Svetlana confirmed that they’ve since done a thorough
investigation into Colonel Chahine’s background. Everything they thought
they knew about him is fake – his military history, medals, commendations,
references, the lot. She’s going to forward what they have through the SGC.”
“Great.
That’ll be about a year too late.” Jack shook his head and tried to damp down
the churning in his gut. “They have a major
breach of security in their program and they don’t once pass it on to us. Did
this colonel go ‘in country’ at all?”
Carter’s
grim nod confirmed his suspicions. “Oh, yeah. He was leader of one of their
teams. He went on at least eight missions. Svetlana said there were also some
inconsistencies between the mission reports and the you-know-what activations.
There might have been some missions that weren’t officially logged.”
Jack
felt his face stretch in a grimace. “This day just gets better and better.”
The
morning passed in a blur of activity that didn’t actually produce anything. By
midday it was becoming clear that finding Daniel and his kidnappers was going
to be a lengthy process. By late afternoon it was also clear that their
presence was no longer needed in the FBI offices. Everything was being done,
efficiently and professionally – just not productively. Witnesses were
questioned by the dozen but still they were no closer. Hammond contacted Davis
at 1800 and gently requested Jack and his teammates head back to Colorado
Springs. With Davis promising to remain in the FBI’s faces until they turned
something up, Jack, Sam, Teal'c, Griff and Sanchez took their leave.
They stopped off at their hotel, packed their bags, packed Daniel’s too, placed one more call to Catherine and Ernest, uselessly entreating them not to worry, and headed for an Air Force transport that had been diverted to JFK.
The
hall was quiet. Only the far-off calls of departing trains from the station
nearby managed to filter through the solid brick walls. Mid-afternoon on a warm
Thursday had the other residents out and about, leaving Jack, Teal'c and Sam to
approach apartment 8-3 unaccosted. The SF on duty snapped to attention beside
Daniel’s door. Jack acknowledged him with a nod and pulled out his keys. Locks
released, alarm system deactivated, he pushed the door open.
It was
quiet here, too. Motes of dust drifted through sunbeams slanting into the
living room from the balcony. The fish tank bubbled softly on the sideboard.
Uneasily, respectfully, the three spread out into Daniel’s home. The visible
reminders of their friend’s life made his absence even more cutting. Coffee
cups and plates left to dry on the drainer, a novel tucked half under a couch
cushion, post-it notes bearing reminders and random thoughts were stuck to odd
surfaces on furniture and doors. Jack drifted to the balcony doors, pulled
aside a curtain and gazed out – the busy daily life outside some kind of
appeasement to the feeling of complete wrongness,
of life out of balance that this empty home represented.
Hammond
had met them at the airfield, compassion and anger warring in him over the
abduction. Jack had been eager to get back to base where he could at least feel
some degree of command over the situation, but Hammond had asked that they stop
by Daniel’s apartment and secure it. Even though Daniel now kept his journals
on the base, there was always something he was working on at home and the
possibility that he would not return there for some time made it imperative
that all material be returned to the security of the SGC.
So. Better get on with it. Jack turned away from the view. Carter was standing by the dining table,
hands clenched in front of her, her distress visible. Teal'c was wandering
slowly around Daniel’s study, his hands tucked respectfully behind his back as
if awaiting the owner’s permission to touch.
“Carter?”
She
turned wide eyes toward him, barely keeping her composure.
“How
about you go through the papers out here. I’ll check the bedroom.”
She
nodded, bit her lip and moved decisively toward the stacks on the table.
“Teal'c?
You want to check his computer?”
“I
shall, O'Neill.”
Jack
opened the hall door and walked through into Daniel’s bedroom. It was dark and
cool, the drapes drawn against the bright summer sun outside. Everything was
neat and undisturbed – the bed made, clothes hung away in the closet. A
half-filled glass of water sat on the bedside table, a sad indication of
Daniel’s interrupted life. Jack rifled through the three books there but found
nothing of a sensitive nature. He walked into the bathroom, stared for a moment
at his reflection in the cabinet mirror. Little to no sleep in the last
seventy-three hours couldn’t have helped, but damn he looked older today.
He
reached out and ran his hand down the right side of the cabinet, triggered the
hidden catch and pulled the cabinet upwards, away from the wall, the contents
clattering as they slid around inside. Behind the cabinet lay a smooth painted
wall panel. Jack pushed on it gently and it fell back into the wall, then slid
aside to reveal Daniel’s safe. He keyed in the combination and opened it.
Within were Daniel’s personal diaries, containing his most private thoughts
that he wanted withheld from his journals. Even though there was little risk of
the kidnappers breaking into Daniel’s home now, Jack wanted to ensure these
were safe from curious NID or other operatives who might take the opportunity
of Daniel’s absence to try and dig a little dirt on him. The diaries and the
small wooden box containing a necklace belonging to Daniel’s mother would be
safely tucked away in Jack’s own little hidey-hole. Only Hammond knew of that
safe’s existence and Jack would rest easier knowing these little private,
essential parts of Daniel’s life were safeguarded until his return.
He resealed
the safe and cabinet and walked back to the living room. Carter was back to
standing in the middle of the room, gazing at nothing, a sheaf of folders
pressed to her chest.
“Find
anything?”
She
looked up at him, her face a picture of misery. “Just some translations he was
working on. There’s nothing to indicate where they came from and the content
isn’t classified. It’s just… Daniel’s
work.”
Jack
sighed and patted her shoulder. He walked over to the study doors and peered in
at Teal'c – who was standing stiffly at attention, as if guarding the computer,
which glowed on the desk behind him.
“T?”
Teal'c
looked at him, his expression subdued. “I have entered Daniel Jackson’s
security passwords. My friends, I believe you should see what Daniel Jackson has
been working on.”
The
unusual salutation pulled Jack cautiously into the room, Carter right behind
him. They edged up to Daniel’s desk, half-afraid of what Teal'c had found.
Teal'c
turned back to the computer and indicated the directory he had opened. Masses
of files filled the screen, all neatly labelled and arranged. Jack ran his eye
down them, picking up familiar words here and there: Chaldean, Ancient, Furling,
Nox, proto-something-or-other...
“They
look like some of the languages we’ve encountered on our missions,” Carter
spoke up quietly. “I don’t recognise all of them, though.”
Teal'c
opened one of the files - Cimmerian – and they found another list of files:
phonology, root language, grammar, dictionary, and many others. Opening each of
these files revealed dozens of documents detailing the precise workings of the
language.
“My
god, the size of these documents… they’re huge and there must be hundreds of
them,” Carter breathed, incredulous as Teal'c opened file after file. “He’s
done all this on his own time?”
“I
believe Daniel Jackson has been working on this endeavour since the formation
of SG-1,” Teal'c stated softly. He paged back to the master file and
highlighted the document name for them all to see.
A GRAMMAR OF POST-TERRESTRIAL LANGUAGES, THEIR SOURCE,
PHONOLOGY AND DEFINITION.
DANIEL JACKSON PhD PhD PhD MA BA
Jack
felt a pang seize his chest and it was several minutes before he could speak.
He listened to the others while he explored the true extent of Daniel’s
achievement.
“On
top of all the work he does on base, for our team and everyone else, he still
found time to do this at home. And not even with the promise of having it
published one day. Until we go public, nobody will get to see it.” Carter shook
her head.
“The
preservation of languages both from your own planet’s past and those of other
civilizations is truly Daniel Jackson’s passion,” Teal'c said, reverence and
admiration in his voice. “His efforts benefit not only those of us at the SGC
who rely upon his work to communicate with those we meet in our travels, but
will surely be a treasure for all mankind.”
No
bones about it, Teal'c was right. Jack heaved in a breath. “Remind me never to
take Daniel for granted again.”
“Ditto,
sir. Geez, he really is a genius.” Carter futzed with her eyes for a moment.
“We can’t leave this here.”
Teal'c
scowled. “I would be uncomfortable with Daniel Jackson’s work being held at the
SGC. Were it to fall into the hands of the unscrupulous, it could be made to
disappear forever.”
“I’ll
take it,” Jack said soberly. “I have a place it will be safe in, and there are
contingency plans, in case….”
Half
an hour later they left Daniel’s apartment, locked and secure, awaiting its
owner’s return. His fish were given into the care of the woman on the third floor
who also did his cleaning when he was away. She was the wife of one of the
Base’s SF’s and had full approval and clearance.
In
grim silence, the three returned to the SGC, making only one stop to place
Daniel’s precious possessions in Jack’s secure place.
Walking
back into the base was an eerie experience. Everyone who passed them greeted
them with crisp salutes or sombre nods, Daniel’s absence an almost physical
ache to Jack as he felt his face harden into a stony façade. They changed into
fatigues and headed to Hammond’s office in silence, taking the back stairs by
mutual need to avoid as many commiserating looks as possible.
Hammond’s
face was also hard, anger buried not too deeply, but his smile was genuine when
they filed into his office and sat down. He looked them over once and launched
into his briefing without preamble.
“We
have received a file from Doctor Markhov in Moscow. It has the personnel
records of all the missing from the Russian Stargate program, including this
Colonel Arseniy Chahine.” He slid a folder towards Jack. “We’ve also received another update
from the FBI in New York. The van rental clerk has given them a good
description of the man who hired the van found in the water.” He dropped a
black and white sketch of a man’s face on top of the folder. “As you can see,
glasses, beard, long hair and cap – doesn’t give much of an idea of the man’s
real face. They have also sent through the results from the forensic testing in
the warehouse where Doctor Jackson’s belongings were found.”
He
placed another folder on the desk. Teal'c reached for that one while Carter
pulled the personnel file over and opened it. Jack stared hard at Hammond for a
moment. “You’re sure, sir, that the NID had nothing to do with kidnapping
Daniel?”
“I am,
Jack. The president himself has come down hard on them this time. He values
Doctor Jackson very highly. I’m convinced that whoever has done this is a new
player on the block.”
Carter
held up a faxed photo of a man in a Russian Colonel’s uniform. “This is him. He
certainly wasn’t among the bodies we found on the base in Siberia.”
Jack
looked at it – and felt the world drop out from beneath him. For a horrible
frozen moment he was staring at a face he’d never thought to see again. Of its
own volition, his hand reached out and took the picture, the conversation
flowing around him unheard.
Black,
soulless eyes stared up at him, a world of hate and revenge seething from a
piece of paper straight into Jack’s heart. It’s
you. I should have known you’d creep back to life one day. I never expected it
to be now, and I should have. This is my fault. I’ve brought you down on
Daniel, god help me.
“Colonel?”
Carter and Hammond were staring at him, and at the picture that was now a
crumpled mess in his fist.
“I….”
Where to begin, how to say that the best friend he’d ever had was in the hands
of a cold-blooded killer whose last words Jack had heard were oaths of revenge
on all Jack held dear?
“General
Hammond.” Teal'c interrupted.
Three
faces looked at him in surprise. Teal'c held another faxed sheet, this one
bearing a photo of the warehouse floor. He placed it on the desk, his faced
creased with worry. “This photograph is an infrared scan of the warehouse floor
where Daniel Jackson was taken. There is a set of unusual markings on the
floor, some fifty feet from the ringbolts where Daniel Jackson was undoubtedly
restrained. The FBI was unable to identify the object that would make such a
mark.”
Carter
and Hammond peered at the picture, Jack pushed himself to his feet and tried to
get his brain back into gear. The markings on the floor were circular, eight to
ten inches wide, eight feet in diameter. It took a few moments for the
realisation to sink in. Carter was way ahead of him.
“Oh,
no.”
“Indeed,”
Teal'c growled, his hands clenched in fury. “These markings are made by a
ring-transporter, most likely from an Al-kesh cargo vessel.”
Jack
looked at him, aghast, as Teal'c delivered the denouement.
“Daniel
Jackson is no longer on this world.”