DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters and property of Stargate SG-1 belong to MGM/UA, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment purposes and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author. Not to be archived without permission of the author(s).
"What else could it be but a tomb? A sarcophagus? Healing? Carter, are you thinking what I hope you're not?"
"Yes, sir. And I'm guessing the site the Jacksons' found was not a tomb but Ra's headquarters here on Earth."
Jack looked grim. "So just about anything could have been there."
Sam nodded thoughtfully. "I'd say yes. After all, the journals did mention the Goa'uld ribbon device. There could be a healing device, electronic books --"
"Weapons."
"Uh, yes, sir. I'd say that was a definite possibility."
"Sweet. Now--" The ringing telephone cut Jack off. "Shit. ... O'Neill!... Lieutenant Simmons? Yes, send her up ... please." Jack replaced the handset. "Simmons was trying to find the locker as well as the mysterious Colonel John Black, who'd come inquiring about the key a couple of weeks ago."
"She's downstairs? Why not just call?" Sam's tone was laced with confusion.
"Good question."
Captain Benjamin bit hungrily into his cheeseburger, grabbed for his napkin and hastily wiped the ketchup from his chin before it could drip onto his uniform. Swallowing quickly, he glanced across at Madison Trent. "I still find it difficult to believe a little kid could speak ancient Egyptian. Hell, I can't even imagine what that must sound like."
"Gibberish from what Dad said." Trent replied as he chased a cherry tomato around his salad bowl. "I'm surprised Dr. Marshall didn't mention the national security angle. I'm sure he must have know."
"Never said a word about it. And from his list, I don't see how it could be true."
"List?"
"Uh, never mind, forget I said that."
"Please, Captain Benjamin, don't tell me you're gonna pull the national security angle. I am with the FBI."
Benjamin yelped slightly as he bit his tongue. "Ouch! Oh, sorry. Well, no, I'm not, but when Dr. Marshall gave me access to his safety deposit box I gave him my word that I would not publicize it."
"I'm FBI, not New York Times."
The captain grinned. "True, but if your only concern is the national security threat, let me assure you that the list might impact the national treasury, but certainly not national security."
"What's on it?"
"I don't know a lot about Egyptian tombs, but I did see the Tutankhamen exhibit a few years back, so I'm guessing pretty standard stuff for a tomb."
"Burial jars, statues?"
"Yeah."
"Any jewelry?" Trent stabbed the tomato violently as he spoke.
Benjamin swallowed some fries then replied. "Well, there was a headdress mentioned, and some necklaces. And a whole bunch of rings."
"No bracelets?"
"No, why?"
Trent sighed in embarrassment. "Sorry, my wife's a bracelet nut. Christmas, birthday, anniversary. You name it, the gift better be a bracelet. So to me, jewelry means bracelets."
"Understand. My fiancee's into earrings. And shoes."
"To get back to my original reason for catching up with you, do you have any idea where the stuff on the list is?"
"Not at liberty to say." 'Translation,' Benjamin thought, 'military has it, so God only knows.' "Why the interest?"
"Well, that kind of inventory is a pretty good reason for murder. Particularly if what was removed from the museum didn't match the original inventory list. What if the Jacksons were killed to prevent their going to the police?"
"Good point, but how do we reconcile Marshall's list of what was in the museum to what was actually retrieved by the Jacksons?"
"Surely they had an inventory of the items somewhere?"
"Probably, but that was what ... thirty years ago. No telling where it is now."
"Well, if the items from the museum are housed ... somewhere, and if the Jacksons' inventory of the items is housed ... somewhere, and if the Jacksons were killed to prevent exposure of a theft--"
"That's a lot of if's."
"Detective work is usually loaded with them. To cut to the chase, it's entirely possible that the murderer is still around, and doesn't want his handiwork exposed."
"Mr. Trent, I'm sensing a warning here."
"Indeed you are, Captain Benjamin, indeed you are. Murderers are not inclined to want to be caught. If the risk of exposure is too high, they can kill again ... and again."
Jack flung the door to the SG-1 suite open just as Lieutenant Simmons started to knock, startling the young woman badly. "Oh! Colonel, sorry, sir."
"Come in, Simmons. This is Major Carter. Have you found the locker?"
"Ma'am." The young lieutenant acknowledged the other officer, then turned her attention back to the colonel. "No sir, but I've got people working on it. They have no idea why, but they're working round the clock."
"Excellent. I'm assuming there's something else..." Jack let his words fade as he studied her face closely.
"Well, sir, I've found Colonel John Black, and he's not a colonel at all." Her voice was filled with indignation as she spoke. "He's a major."
"Name, Lieutenant, the name." Jack could barely keep the impatience out of his tone.
"Yes, sir. His name is Major Martin L. Nichols, Jr. He is Army, though, at least he had that part right."
Sam and Jack exchanged concerned looks. "Do you have an address on him, Lieutenant?"
"Yes, sir. He lives in Maryland. Prince Frederick to be exact. I've written down his street address and phone number for you, sir. And here's his file photo."
"Thank you, Lieutenant. You wouldn't happen to have a map on you, by any chance?"
"Actually, sir, I printed off a map to his home. Kinda figured you'd wanta go there."
Jack quickly took the offered paperwork from the young woman and, to Sam's astonishment, deftly maneuvered her to the door. "Thank you, Lieutenant. Good job."
"If you need anything else--"
"Keep me posted on the locker search. Report only to myself, or Major Carter. And Lieutenant, not a word of this to anyone. And I mean anyone."
"Yes, sir. It's our secret." Finding herself in the open door, she smiled. "Good luck with ... whatever it is." Saluting smartly, she headed for the elevator.
Jack barely returned her salute before closing the door.
"Nichols, sir? Related to our Colonel Nichols."
"Ya think?" Jack's voice was grim. "It's time we paid a little visit to the major."
"Yes, sir. After all, impersonating a colonel is not a good idea."
"Neither is kidnapping Daniel."
"You think Nichols has him?"
"He requested the new key for the vault our old key goes with. Wherever that is. If he has the artifacts, then he may just need Daniel for some reason."
"Yes, sir. I'll get the car and meet you out front, sir."
"Carter, we don't have a car."
"Actually, sir, I took the liberty of arranging for one while you were talking to Lieutenant Simmons. I didn't think you'd mind."
Trent and the young captain parted ways outside the diner. The FBI agent watched as Captain Benjamin climbed into his car, and drove away. As soon as the car was out of sight, he pulled a cell phone from his jacket pocket. Dialing quickly, he spoke into the microphone, "Trent here. He's got the list, but it's not the Jacksons'. Apparently Marshall kept an inventory as well. ... Yes, I'm certain. The list didn't have the bracelet on it. ... Yes, sir. I'll take care of the Marshall problem immediately."
As soon as Trent was out of sight, Benjamin picked up his cell phone and dialed quickly. "General Hammond. Security code - Alpha Five Niner." The young captain sighed as he waited for the operator to locate the general, grateful once more for all those evenings spent playing poker. "Benjamin here, sir. I've collected the only thing Dr. Marshall had that was important, an inventory of the Jacksons' artifacts. There's also been interest in the list by an FBI agent named Trent. I'll be ordering a security review of him as soon as I hang up. And General, the bracelet you described to me, well it's definitely on this list, along with two other bracelet type things. ... Yes, sir. I'll go to DC immediately." Disconnecting quickly, he punched in another number and angrily hit 'send'. "Benjamin here. I need a security check run on Madison Trent, who may or may not be with the FBI. And I need a guard posted yesterday on Dr. Philip Marshall at Shady Hills Retirement Home. No one is to be alone with the old guy until I say so. ... Excellent. Just make sure the guards understand, if anything happens to Dr. Marshall, their next post will be so far away from civilization, that the sunlight has to be piped in."