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).
It was a very surprised Air Force lieutenant whose door disintegrated in the wee hours of the morning. McIntosh stood, eyes wide with shock, and no small amount of fear, in the middle of his living room. Next to him stood a small suitcase.
"Going somewhere, Lieutenant?"
Harris' predatory smile sent chills down the younger man's back. "No, sir. I, what are you doing here, Major?"
"You were preparing to leave the city. You will tell me the location of Daniel Jackson or I will disembowel you." Teal'c's voice thundered from behind the startled man, who whirled to find himself face to throat with a stone-faced Jaffa, holding a very large knife.
The color drained from the lieutenant's face, and for a moment Major Harris thought the other man would faint. But even as his color died, McIntosh found his tongue. "Parker took him. Don't let him near me with that knife. Parker took him. He ain't here! Don't let him near me with that knife. God, he ain't in Colorado..."
The steady stream of words continued as Harris' men took charge and led the babbling officer away. Teal'c watched in confusion, then turned to the NID officer who was smiling at him. "Major Harris, do the songs of all canaries resemble this noise?"
Harris clapped the Jaffa on the shoulder. "Actually Teal'c, this was one of the better songs I've heard. Let's go listen to the rest of the music."
The photographs so carefully stored by Dr. Marshall were virtually useless to Sam and Jack. No doubt Daniel would have been waxing poetic about their contents. For his part, Jack was almost pleased to note that he recognized the standard set of burial urns. He feigned annoyed ignorance as Sam explained their significance to the bemused captain. "Carter, what is this buying us?"
"Sorry, sir." Sam didn't meet his eyes as she pulled out some smaller prints from the pile.
Jack sighed heavily. "No, I'm sorry, Carter. This--"
"Holy Hannah!"
"What?" Jack and the captain spoke in unison.
"I recognize this place. I think I've been there, but why?" Her forehead crinkled up in a mass of wrinkles as she struggled to remember.
"Better yet, Major, when and where?"
"Is it somewhere in New York, ma'am?"
"No, that's just it. I think it was when I was stationed here. Why can't I remember?"
Jack took the photo from Sam's hand and studied the picture closely. The house was enormous, obviously meant for entertaining on a grand scale. Three stories high, and probably a full basement. On closer inspection, Jack decided the structure definitely had a full basement. "Sweet. Carter?"
"I'm sorry, sir. It's just not coming back to me."
Daniel barely restrained a gasp as another sharp tug pulled one of the cords binding his wrists loose. Or at least looser. It wasn't quite dangling from the restraint, but he definitely had more movement than before. The robe he wore was drenched with sweat, and he blinked heavily as salty drops of moisture ran into his eyes. At least with his new haircut, he didn't have to worry about hair falling in his eyes. He'd been feverish for quite some time now, and his chest felt like a lead weight was tied around it every time he coughed. And on the dresser, so near and yet so far, was a pitcher of what looked to be water. And crackers and cheese. He'd begun his struggle with his bonds so that he could escape. Now his primary goal was that... damn ... pitcher! Another yank, and his hands fell into his lap, with a dull thwap! For a short moment, he stared at them, unable to move or even to think clearly, then he remembered the water. There was something else he needed to do, but his over-tired brain could not quite remember just what. Pushing off the bed, he homed in on the dresser. Shaking hands tried to pour a glass of the clear liquid, but failed as the water sloshed onto the wooden surface. 'Oh to hell with it!' Daniel lifted the pitcher to his lips with both hands, and drank deeply, relishing each gulp.
The sudden ringing of the phone caused Jack to lunge for the instrument with a passion never before shown where Alexander Graham Bell's device was concerned. "O'Neill! ... Oh, hello Lieutenant. ... What? Where? We're on our way!" He dropped the receiver into its cradle. "Yes!"
"Sir?" Carter and Benjamin spoke simultaneously.
"Lieutenant Simmons found the storage locker! It's..." His voice faded as the phone rang again. "Shit! Not now. O'Neill!" Jack's exasperated look turned to stone. "I saw. ... No, I did not find it interesting. Where is he?" His eyes narrowed as his second in command dashed for the bedroom. "Don't play games, you know we have his journals. ... Fine. Thirty minutes." This time the phone was thrown into its cradle. "Carter!"
"Sorry, sir, I couldn't get a trace. You weren't on long enough."
"Trace?"
"Yes, sir. Captain Benjamin set it up after I filled him in on the break-in."
"Good work, Captain."
"Thank you, sir. Where are you supposed to be in thirty minutes?"
"Constitution Gardens."
Benjamin frowned. "That's a fifteen minute drive from here, in normal traffic. We'd better hurry."
Jack shook his head as he jotted something on the hotel stationary. "Nope, Carter, you and Benjamin are going to meet Simmons."
"But sir!"
"Anh! We need to know what's in that vault."
"But you'll be alone meeting ... whoever."
"Ya think?"
"Are you going to take the journals, Colonel?" Benjamin asked quietly.
Jack thought for a moment. "No. The journals go with you and Carter. It's obvious that Daniel's not imprisoned at the Vietnam Memorial. This asshole's just trying to pull our strings."
"But sir, what if he, they force you to go with them? If they draw a weapon..."
"Then I'll go. Too many innocents on the Mall for me to try heroics. Now get going. Simmons is alone." Jack led the way to the door, followed by the younger officers. As they raced for the elevators, none of them heard the phone ringing again in their room.