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 waitress, anxious for a good tip on a slow day, made certain that the officer, and his well-dressed companion, were served their coffee from the freshest pot. She included a variety of specialty creamers, along with the plain variety, and stood poised with her pen. "Are you gentlemen ready to order?"
Captain Benjamin smiled at the pretty woman. "Yes. I'll have a cheeseburger, extra onions, and onion rings."
Madison Trent studied the menu for a moment longer. "Do you have a house dressing?"
"Yes sir. It's a creamy vinaigrette, with bacon and cucumber."
Trent nodded. "Fine. I'll have the chef salad with the house dressing."
The two men waited for the waitress to leave, then Benjamin broke the ice. "Just why is the FBI interested in Dr. Marshall?"
Trent sighed. "The FBI isn't. The interest is personal. My father was one of the police detectives assigned to the investigation of a fatal accident at the museum where Dr. Marshall was the curator, some thirty years ago."
Benjamin frowned. "Indeed?"
"Yes. A couple by the name of Jackson, Melbourne and Claire Jackson died. Dr. Marshall was most upset by the accident, kept claiming it was murder. Dad's partner wrote off his concerns as fantasy, but my father wasn't so sure. There were a couple of military officers there whose actions were a little odd, to say the least."
"Odd? In what way?"
"Well, as I'm sure Dr. Marshall told you, an Army colonel confiscated the exhibit where the Jacksons died. Had it loaded up lock, stock, and barrel, and hauled away in a truck. Showed the proper paperwork, so my father and his partner really couldn't stop the transfer of the materials. And he refused to answer questions. Said everything was classified. National Security."
Benjamin looked surprised. "National Security? Are you certain?"
"Oh yeah. Dad served two hitches in the Air Force, before going into police work. He spent a lot of time trying to figure out what could possibly be so dangerous about the exhibit. I mean, it was going on display until the couple was killed. But the thing that really got to my father was the way the colonel treated the child."
"Child? Daniel Jackson."
"Yes. The poor little guy had just seen his parents die, and this jerk keeps asking the kid the same questions over and over."
"What questions?"
"Where did his parents find the tomb they raided, and where was the golden bracelet."
"Bracelet? Dr. Marshall didn't mention any bracelet."
"It wasn't in the inventory. And apparently no one but my father, and the major, heard that question, just before the major intervened. According to Dad, the colonel had grabbed the boy by the shoulders and was shaking him violently. The major had just arrived on site, and my father was showing him to the room where the colonel was. They both heard the child screaming for his parents. The major practically knocked my father down getting through the door."
The captain shook his head. "I can't imagine treating a kid that way, particularly one that had been traumatized the way he'd been. But outside of that, what was so odd?"
Trent frowned. "Well, the colonel wasn't asking the questions in English."
The captain looked puzzled. "Let me get this straight. The guy's questioning a little American boy, and he's not speaking English?"
"Right, but neither was the kid."
"Okay, now I am confused. If neither one was speaking English, how did your father know what they said?"
Trent grinned. "Really, really good memory. Photographic to be exact, but his auditory memory was just as good. After he was certain that the major had control of the situation, the major spoke English by the way, Dad sought out Dr. Marshall and asked him if he could translate."
"I assume he could."
"Yes, but here's the weird part. The language was, according to Dr. Marshall, Egyptian.... Ancient Egyptian."
The cab ride back to the hotel was made in virtual silence. Both Sam and Jack were too caught up in their concern for Daniel to waste time on trivial conversation. The cabbie, a gregarious man by the name of Bill, attempted to point out the local sights to his out-of-town clientele, but outside of an occasional "sweet" or "that's nice", could garner no reaction, good or bad. Consequently, he was relieved to pull up in front of their hotel. An eager bellboy opened the door as Jack paid the cabbie. Sam waited solemnly on the pavement for the colonel, then the two walked silently into the hotel. They'd made it halfway to the elevators when a worried voice was heard calling Jack's name. "Colonel? Colonel O'Neill?"
Turning, the SG-1 duo found themselves accosted by the day manager. "I'm sorry, Colonel, you are Colonel O'Neill, aren't you?" Barely waiting for his nod of acknowledgment, she continued hastily. "We've had a bit of a problem here today. It doesn't usually happen, but occasionally we..."
The look of steel in O'Neill's eyes silenced the nervous woman. Jack took a deep steadying breath, as he glanced at her nameplate. "Ms. Parnell, what kind of problem?"
"I'm sorry, sir, but someone broke into your room..."
"What!" Jack turned quickly away from the woman, headed for the elevators, stopping only when she applied pressure to his arm. "What?"
"Fortunately, sir, housekeeping had left some cleaners in the room, and had gone back to get them. Poor Maria screamed bloody murder when she saw someone ransacking the living room. The men ran by her, and out the door. According to Maria, and Louis, who was down the hall, neither man was carrying anything, so if anything is missing, it's got to be very small."
"Small?" Jack's voice was numb as he echoed her words.
"Yes, sir. We've already had the police in for fingerprint checks. Detective Morris left his card for you, in case anything is missing. And we've cleaned the room. Oh, and for some reason, our chief of security ordered one of his people to stay in the room until your return."
"Thank you, Ms. Parnell. We'll go take inventory."
"Please let me know if you need anything. We really don't have this problem. I can't remember the last time..."
Jack was already moving to the elevator as Sam smiled at the woman. "Thank you. We'll be in touch." Hurrying to catch the colonel, she reached the elevator just as the door opened. Following the colonel, she winced as he angrily jabbed the button for their floor. "Sir?"
"They've got Daniel, Carter. Now they want his journals. Dammit to hell!"