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).
The guard chatted cheerfully with Sam as he led the way through the maze of exhibits to the workroom area. He used his security card to gain access to the area, and proceeded to usher Sam and Jack through the double doors. Sam forced herself to be interested in the guard's conversation all the while wishing that, for once, she could take on the colonel's role of resident grump. Breaking into his non-stop monologue, Sam asked. "There was no one else here when you left him?"
"Couldn't say." The guard leaned casually against a crate, arms relaxed by his sides.
Jack cast a disparaging look at the other man. "You couldn't say?"
"Nope, I didn't come back here with him."
"Ah ha. Why not?"
"Well, a refrigerated truck was getting ready to leave. I had to verify that the shipment was in order."
Sam spoke up quickly. "A refrigerated truck?"
"Yes, for specimens or something."
"I see." Sam pretended not to notice as the colonel wandered away. "And was it okay?"
"Actually, no. They'd messed up the inventory."
"Messed up. How was it messed up?"
"There was one extra crate."
Jack turned in his tracks. "And this didn't strike you as the least bit, shall we say, odd?"
"Not really. Third time this week something's been wrong."
The colonel nodded to Sam to resume her conversation. Sam quickly pulled the guard's attention back to her. "What was in the crates?"
"Specimens of some sort."
"May I see them?"
The guard smiled. "Sorry, they were going, not coming."
Jack rejoined them and responded. "Do they make mistakes going out often? You know, send too many crates, that sort of thing."
"Nope. Now that you mention it, it was odd. Usually it's the inbound stuff that's wrong. Too many of this, too little of that."
"How big was the crate?" Sam met Jack's eyes and knew they were having the same feeling of dread.
"Well, see for yourself. It's still on the loading dock."
"What? Where?" Jack and Sam were again speaking in unison.
The puzzled guard started toward the back of the workroom. "Just through those doo..." His words died on his lips as Jack, closely followed by Sam, raced past him. "What the hell's wrong with them?"
Teal'c threaded his way through the disaster area that was Daniel Jackson's apartment. Whoever had done the searching was taking no chances. Not a book remained on the shelves, not a picture on the walls. Even the fish tank had not been left undisturbed. It lay partially on one side; a complete turn over prevented only by an out of place footstool. The Jaffa took a moment to right the tank, taking care not to harm the surviving fish. Satisfied that most, if not all, of the delicate little creatures still lived, he preceded on into Daniel's bedroom.
The mattress had been shredded. Even the box springs had not been left untouched. Teal'c moved swiftly into the bathroom and knelt beside the decorative tiles in the center of the floor. Reaching down, he slid aside a small red circle. The lock appeared undisturbed. Removing a small key from his pocket, he quickly opened the compartment. The combination lock inside also looked undamaged. Teal'c carefully entered the combination and lifted the decorative tiles out of the floor as a unit, revealing, to his relief, Daniel Jackson's off-world journals. Colonel O'Neill's friend had indeed done an outstanding job of concealing the safe.
"Teal'c?"
The Jaffa hastily replaced the door, making sure it was secure before answering. "I am in the bedroom, General Hammond."
The stunned general walked slowly into what was left of the bedroom. "What in sand hill is going on, Teal'c?"
"It would appear that someone has been hunting for something, General Hammond."
"Uh. Yes. Thank you very much. But what?"
Teal'c positioned his hands behind his back. "I do not know, but it is possible they wish to obtain the journals of Daniel Jackson's father.
By the time the van finally stopped moving, Daniel was shivering too badly to notice. He'd drawn his legs up to his chest and wrapped his free arm tightly around them. The handcuffed wrist hung uselessly from the shelves next to him and every so often he'd yank it hard, as if believing that at some unnamed point in time the metal restraints would break loose. His chin was buried in his chest, and he showed no sign of rousing as the door was flung open.
Two burley men, obviously wrestling wannabees, forced their bulk through the door. An overlarge hand jerked Daniel's head upwards. "This one won't be giving us any trouble."
The second man undid the handcuffs from the shelves, as the first one pulled the disoriented young prisoner to his feet. Forcing his free arm behind him, the second incredible Hulk snapped the open cuff in place. Keeping a steadying arm on the prisoner, the first guard guided Daniel to the door. The second man held onto Daniel as the first guard jumped to the ground. Turning, the big guard unceremoniously draped Daniel over his shoulder, making him look more like a sack of potatoes than an archaeologist.
The pair then headed inside what could only be called a mansion, nodding to the armed guards outside as they passed.
"Where ... is the crate?" Jack forced the words through clenched teeth.
The guard nodded toward a 2x2x4-foot box on the loading dock. "Right there."
Sam looked puzzled. "I though it was a refrigerated truck?"
"It was."
"Then shouldn't this be back inside somewhere."
"Naw, that's how I knew it was wrong, they'd put this in the cab."
Jack just stared at the man in disbelief. "Thank you very much..."
Sam quickly interrupted. "Yes, we certainly do appreciate the help, but I'm sure you have more important things to do than stay with us out here."
The guard started to protest, then succumbed to her smile. "You're welcome, Major. Any time." Nodding to the colonel, he wandered away.
The man was barely out of earshot when Jack cut loose. "Of all the stupid, inept, incompetent ... morons!"
"He let them take Daniel. They distracted him with the damn crate..." Sam hurled a violent kick at the wood. "...and put Daniel in the back, while he was taking inventory up front, and me, I was making nice with Dr. Jerk himself."
Surprise colored Jack's voice. "Take it easy, Carter. You know we're gonna have to talk to the guard again."
"Why?"
"His records probably have the license number of the truck. ANH!" He raised a hand to stop her protest. "It's probably fake, but it's worth a shot."
Daniel's eyes opened to see ... leather. Black leather. 'Nice. Soft. What am I thinking?' He turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of a very, very large muscular man walking beside him. His movement had not gone unnoticed.
"He's looking a lot more alert. Why not put him down? It's probably best to let him walk inside to face ... him."
The man carrying Daniel plopped him, none-too-gently, on his feet. "Inside."
The young prisoner barely had a moment to notice the ornate doors as they opened, but it was enough. Ancient hieroglyphics decorated the doors. Daniel's mind was too fuzzy too translate what he saw, but he knew instinctively it could not be good. A violent shove forced him through the doors.
The room was a library, pure and simple. Shelf after shelf of books lined the walls, along with a wide variety of ancient artifacts. An elaborately carved desk sat in the middle of the room, and leaning against it was a tall, slender man with obviously dyed black hair, and steel gray eyes. "Welcome Daniel Jackson. You were very young when we met last. I am..."
"Colonel Roland Parker." Daniel glared defiantly at the man. "I'm not a small child any more, Colonel."
The man laughed easily. "No, and that fact will make my question and answer sessions much simpler. I no longer have to phrase the questions for a child."
"You'll also find I don't frighten easily."
Parker nodded toward the guards, who easily pushed the resisting prisoner to his knees. "Much better, Daniel. I'd hoped to persuade you to hand over your father's journals, and tell me all that you remember."
"No way in ...." Daniel growled at the man, then gasped as Parker's hand gripped his chin tightly.
"Oh, no, no, no, little man. One way, or the other, I will regain what is rightfully mine."