Home > Fan Fiction > General > Passages of Time part 2

Passages of Time part 2

Passages of Time - Part Two:

Captain Carter's inspection of the security system had been extremely
thorough, enabling her surveillance of Hammond's movements right up
until mid afternoon, when he took a phone call in the conference room
that left him visibly agitated. At that moment, Sam decided to take a
lunch break, surreptitiously sneaking out a video tape of the recording
beneath her jacket and heading down to Doctor Fraiser's office to test
her lip reading abilities.

The rapidly improvised, but perfectly executed, plan was coming to
fruition. So successfully in fact that Sam was sat in her car, thirty
hours later, on a dark Tuesday night in Denver. The zoom lens of her
camcorder directed at two figures seated opposite each other in a window
booth of the coffee shop across the street.

As the picture came into focus through the viewfinder, Carter gasped in
horror as it became apparent that the man whom General Hammond had
arranged to meet during that phone call was none other than Mr Philip
Marshall, still displaying his Egyptian tan and dressed in his light
beige suit, wholly unsuitable for a rainy night in Colorado.

Struggling to keep the camcorder steady, Sam's mind raced with
possibilities at the sight of the SGC's commander having a clandestine
meeting with the man Colonel O'Neill had been following before he
disappeared. The conversation did not appear to be going smoothly, both
men were gesturing madly, their faces getting closer together as they
appeared to be arguing in heated whispers. If only she could hear what
they were saying, but instead Carter prayed that Janet would be able to
read their lips just as well as she had been able to decipher General
Hammond's words during the previous day's phone call. The doctor's year
of training to work with deaf children was certainly paying off, even if
her original career plans had become somewhat sidetracked of late.

The meeting did not last long and soon the Captain was following a
rented vehicle driven by Philip Marshall. After a few miles he pulled
into the underground car park of a large hotel and she watched him head
for the elevator. It looked like he was turning in for the night.
Rapidly, Sam turned her car around and headed back out onto the dark,
damp streets, flooring the accelerator to drive to Janet's house.

~~~~~~~~~~

A strange thud, more felt than heard, dragged the Colonel back to harsh
reality, the grip of his recurring nightmare slowly relinquishing him to
the present. Somehow he thought something had changed, but he was
gradually deteriorating into delirium, he could no longer be certain of
anything.

Jack knew he was dying, however many days he had been imprisoned there,
his captors had either left him for dead, or were really pushing their
luck. His fitful sleep had become almost comatose as he began to slip in
and out of consciousness, the dehydration too severe for him to survive
much longer. His whole body trembled continuously and the cramp
previously confined to his stomach and legs had spread throughout,
spasming every tiny muscle he hadn't even known existed.

The Colonel tried to focus on the noise, if only to determine whether
any hope remained, but it did not repeat. He shifted painfully,
stretching his legs slowly in an attempt to find a vaguely comfortable
position in which to curl up and die. His bare foot brushed against
something cold and he caught his breath. Something had changed, either
he was hallucinating again or there was a foreign presence in the room.

Gradually, Jack pushed his toe out again, feeling a chill damp surface
of plastic make his foot cramp up painfully. He shivered uncontrollably,
positive that his mind was playing cruel tricks on him. O'Neill knew all
about mirages in the desert, now it seemed he was suffering the same
excruciating experience himself. Still what did he have to lose? To
imagine a drink of cool clean water was as good a way to die as to
ignore the false presence and return to his most unpleasant thoughts of
a death in captivity.

O'Neill struggled to sit up, his chest aching and heaving with the
effort. He inched sideways across the sandy floor and reached out his
left hand in the general direction of the unknown object. If this was an
hallucination, then it was certainly a convincing one. Beneath his dirt
ground fingertips, Jack felt solid plastic, a square shape with rounded
edges. Damp with condensation rapidly evaporating into the dry air of
the tomb.

With shaking fingers, Jack shifted the container across the floor
towards him, feeling and hearing the fluid movement within. Perhaps they
didn't want him dead yet after all. He had been given a lifeline,
temporarily at least. The Colonel moved his legs around the small
bottle, gripping it between his knees as he struggled to unseal the
tightly fastened cap, panicking slightly when he couldn't get the lid
off at the first attempt in his weakened state. He held his t-shirt over
the top and tried again, the extra grip providing sufficient torque to
open the container.

Jack held the bottle in his trembling hand, placing it to his lips for a
single disciplined mouthful. He had been through this before, he knew
the exact consequences of drinking too much too soon. It was a risk he
was not prepared to take and he could not afford to waste a single drop
of what he gauged to be a litre of water. Instead he took a small sip
and resealed the cap, not too tightly this time. Then he licked the
condensation from the outside of the bottle before replacing it on the
floor and doing the same with his hand, ignoring the dirt amidst the
heavenly dampness.

The Colonel could not understand why his captors had waited this long,
but one thing he felt for sure, now they had made him aware of their
presence, a prolonged visit would soon be forthcoming. At least then, he
might finally discover the purpose of his imprisonment.

In the meantime, he had something to keep him busy and a reason to mark
the passage of time. If he could control his intake of the life giving
liquid, he might be able to replenish some of his failing strength in
preparation for what was surely still to come.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was gone midnight by the time the two women sat back to examine the
transcript of the video recording, scarcely able to believe what they
had just 'heard'. Janet picked up the yellow legal pad and read it
again, her eyes fixing on the height of the conversation when the anger
between the two men had been visible:

Hammond: "Taking Colonel O'Neill was never part of the plan!"

Marshall: "The opportunity came up, so I grabbed it!"

H: "But the agreement was to question Doctor Jackson, to find out what
he knew. Either way, that would be the end of it."

M: "Doctor Jackson was extremely evasive, he managed to slip through our
fingers."

H: "The fact that you couldn't capture him means that we passed your
little test. What right do you have to continue this ridiculous scheme
any further?"

M: "As you well know, General, my mandate is to obtain clear results to
enable the Senate Committee to make a decision. So far that has not been
possible."

H: "I am ordering you to release Colonel O'Neill now, or I'll go
directly to the President."

M: "General, you can't order me to do anything. This operation is not
under military jurisdiction. And I think you'll find any conversation
with the President is futile. His hands are completely tied in this
affair."

Janet visualised the snide smile that came over the face of the US
Embassy employee with those words. "Well, I guess it explains why
Hammond was so adamant the Colonel shouldn't go after Doctor Jackson, I
wonder if he'll still try to court martial him," Janet wondered, staring
at the written words and going over their implications in her mind. "I
think Daniel's going to need some help," she eventually murmured.

"What?" Sam looked at her, "But how? You heard them, this is a
government run operation, we can't interfere!"

"Samantha, look," Janet patted her arm, "I know you've been raised to
think of the government and the military as the good guys, the guys in
white. Yeah?" Sam stared at her blankly, "Well, I hate to tell you this
kiddo, but sometimes they're not! The fact is, for whatever misguided
reasons, they are holding Colonel O'Neill against his will and we have a
duty, as his friends, to help him."

The Captain looked about as miserable as if she'd just found out that
Santa Claus didn't exist, "But how? I can't even leave the country, my
passport is revoked, remember?"

"No, but I can!" Janet exclaimed emphatically, "And I won't have to go
AWOL to do it, I just worked nearly 130 hours in the last eight days,
I'm rotated off for the next six. Besides," she added with false cheer,
"I've always wanted to see the Great Pyramids."

"And what can I do, stuck here in Colorado?"

"I recommend you confront General Hammond!" Janet looked at her watch,
"I'd better book a trip and start packing. I hope Cassie doesn't mind
staying with a friend for a few days." With that she stood up and left
the room, leaving Captain Carter to contemplate the uncomfortable task
of how to talk to the SGC's commander without outright accusing him of
lying.

~~~~~~~~~~

When General Hammond arrived on base that Wednesday morning it was still
dark, but it was with a sense of relief that he sat down in his office
chair to face the huge pile of paperwork that appeared each day like
clockwork. He needed something to immerse himself in and maybe
temporarily forget why he hadn't gotten any sleep that night.

He knew Jack could look after himself, he had proven that in combat
countless times. But this was different, this was enforced captivity and
if ever there was a chink in the Colonel's armour, this was it.

Hammond had only known Jack O'Neill for two years, but he had read the
report in his personnel file. He knew what had taken place during the
Gulf War and how the man had struggled to overcome the trauma. Now
everything was riding on how O'Neill coped in a similar situation. At
least this time there would be no violence, the mandate was clear on
that, these were Americans not the enemy. There were other methods,
deprivation for instance, and it may take longer that way, but it would
suffice.

The General frowned, the whole operation had him deeply concerned. The
reasons behind it were purely political and the threats that had been
made in order to gain co-operation only served to increase his suspicion
of its legality. As for the moral and ethical issues, they seemed to
have been completely ignored and it worried Hammond even more to think
that the President of the United States of America had signed off on
such an exercise. But, as Philip Marshall had said, the man's hands were
apparently tied by the power of the Senate Committee.

To top it all, Hammond believed that he was to blame for the capture of
Colonel O'Neill. It was far too coincidental that Jack had disappeared
less than twenty four hours after the General made contact with his
operational liaison, Philip Marshall. The younger man had not actually
admitted it during their meeting the previous evening, but the truth now
seemed patently obvious.

The one thing that remained unclear was an answer to his dilemma. What
could Hammond do to help protect his people? He could keep trying to
speak with the President, it was only a matter of time before he would
be available to take the call. And then General Hammond could argue the
case for Jack's release, before things had a chance to get out of hand.
But what if the President's hands really were tied, what then?

~~~~~~~~~~

The first shock of Janet Fraiser's day came in the first class departure
lounge at Denver airport early that Wednesday morning. She was reading a
romantic paperback novel as part of her ditzy, rich American tourist
act, in preparation for the flight to Cairo. When she glanced up over
the top of the page, she spotted Philip Marshall walk in dressed in a
crisp beige suit, carrying an overnight bag and a black leather
briefcase. He surveyed the scene before choosing a suitable spot and
relaxing into one of the comfortable padded chairs.

When the flight was called, Janet gathered up her wide brimmed hat and
huge floral canvas bag and grabbed her boarding card, heading out onto
the tarmac to board the plane. The second uncomfortable coincidence came
when she was directed to her seat and found the US Embassy worker
already sitting in the one next to it, having to wait for him to stand
up out of her way, so that she could get in by the window. She took a
disliking to him immediately, when he simply huffed impatiently as she
struggled with her bag and hat before eventually settling into her
place.

As the plane took off on its long journey, Janet pretended to immerse
herself in the paperback novel, conscious of the fact that the man next
to her had opened his briefcase and was working through some official
looking papers. She glanced across nervously, trying to catch sight of
anything that might prove useful and noticed he was now reviewing the
diary pages of a battered filofax. In the midst of the pencil scribbled
notes of meetings and reminders, one entry stood out under Friday's
date. Two simple words written in red ballpoint as though they were
important and irrevocable. "Bark, 4pm."

Janet didn't understand their meaning, but perhaps Doctor Jackson would.
She stored the details in her mind and turned back to her book,
wondering how Captain Carter was faring.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Sir, regarding our conversation on Monday about Colonel O'Neill, I
thought you should see this," Carter pressed ahead before she lost
courage, handing a grainy print across the desk to General Hammond. She
had chosen the worst photo of the bunch Jack had taken, a long range
shot, slightly out of focus, so that her story would be more convincing.
However, to anyone that knew Philip Marshall, the image was still
clearly identifiable. "The Colonel e-mailed me this. It was someone he
was following, someone he thought might have something to do with
Daniel's disappearance. I was wondering if you might recognise him or
know who he is."

Hammond took the picture from her and stared at it for a long time,
fixing a blank look on his face. "No, Captain, I don't recall seeing
this man before." He glanced up at her, "Had Colonel O'Neill been able
to identify him?"

Sam decided that so long as a senior officer was going to lie to her, it
would be okay for her to respond in kind, "No Sir, the Colonel didn't
know who he was."

"Then why was Jack following him?" The General asked curiously.

"I think he was just going on a hunch, Sir. He really didn't give me any
details, just that one photo," she shrugged uncomfortably.

Hammond pondered her words, "Well, Captain, leave this with me and I'll
see if I can find out anything."

"Thank you, Sir," Carter turned and left his office, feeling suddenly
very alone.

~~~~~~~~~~

Alone and awake, lying in the dark, Jack slowly became aware of a
scuffling sound and tried to focus his senses on pinpointing the source.
He had long since been expecting something to happen. The bottle of
water had been empty for at least a couple of hours, despite his almost
excruciatingly drawn out enjoyment of such a simple pleasure. The best
part of a day must have passed since its arrival, as far as he could
guess with no way to mark time.

The noise grew inexorably louder, like footsteps on a gritty floor, but
coming from above. His head automatically turned upwards. His good eye,
trying to focus in the darkness, was blinded by a ray of bright light,
which suddenly shone from the ceiling high above.

Scrambling backwards to escape the painful spotlight, Jack felt the
sandstone wall firmly beneath his spine. He blinked rapidly, trying to
adjust to the light, shielding his good eye with his left hand. He
tilted his head down to scan the interior of the room, committing the
walls and floor to memory while he had the chance.

A shadow appeared in front of the light, enabling him to look directly
at the ceiling to see a square hole, about three feet across. An
indeterminate shape dropped to the floor, dangling and twisting, and
Jack realised it was a rope ladder. He pushed up, forcing himself to
stand, his back pressed against the wall, ready for fight or flight,
whichever desperate opportunity presented itself.

"Colonel O'Neill, I suggest you remain absolutely still," a heavily
accented voice, originating from the hole in the ceiling, sounded loud
in the sandstone tomb. "You have a 9mm Browning semiautomatic pistol
aimed at your chest and my men have orders to shoot to kill should you
make any move."

Jack peered upwards, trying to decide whether the voice was bluffing,
shifting sideways to get a better view beyond the spotlight. A shot rang
out, the noise explosively loud in the close quarters of the room. Stone
chips hit his left cheek, gouged from the rock by a single warning shot
that left his ears ringing concussively. O'Neill froze, his question
answered, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched a man begin to
descend the ladder.

~~~~~~~~~~

Early on Thursday morning, Egyptian time, Janet finally arrived in
Cairo, disembarking the airport bus to join the immigration queue inside
the airport terminal, praying fervently that she would have no problem
obtaining an entry visa. She noticed Philip Marshall ahead of her,
flashing his diplomatic pass to head straight through the gate, quickly
disappearing into the crowds beyond.

Once she had finally passed all the security checks and recovered her
luggage, Janet headed straight for a phone. She called the number for
the Sheraton Hotel and asked them to slip a message beneath the door of
Jack O'Neill's room, knowing that Daniel would be there at some point to
pick it up. Then she headed out into the already dazzling sunlight and
hunted down her courtesy minibus to the hotel.

The ride to the expensive tourist hotel in the shadow of the Great
Pyramids took over an hour in the busy morning traffic of Cairo's
overpopulated streets. As they neared Giza, Janet caught a tantalising
glimpse of the tall sandstone structures between the rooftops of the
densely packed housing. By the time she checked in at the hotel's
reception desk, a message was already waiting for her. It simply read,
"Son Et Lumiere, 7B, 14L."

Before heading to her room, the doctor arranged an evening trip with the
hotel tour guide. She decided to spend the rest of the day sleeping by
the pool, astounded by the view from her balcony window of Kheops
Pyramid peeking over the treetops behind the palatial main wing of the
hotel.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three men had descended into the tomb through an opening in the ceiling.
They now stood in a row in front of a rope ladder, their faces shadowy
caricatures, backlit by the spotlight's beam. The accented voice barked
a loud order and the light swung across the floor, dazzling the Colonel.

Jack moved his hand to shield his working eye and another shot rang out,
this time so close he could feel the wind whistle past his head,
practically parting his tousled hair. He forced himself to stand
absolutely still, concentrating on the voice to get a fix on the accent.
When the man spoke again, O'Neill realised it was Russian, which only
confused his addled mind even more. What the hell did the former Soviet
Union have to do with anything he or Daniel were involved in? And what
did they want from him?

"You're probably wondering what you're doing here, Colonel," the Russian
spoke in clear, precise English, "And equally why I am here." He
murmured an order in Egyptian to the two men standing either side, who
lowered their weapons marginally. "I am here to release you.......just
as soon as you have answered a couple of simple questions to my
satisfaction."

"Now if you will please replace your arm by your side, I should like us
to see eye to eye on the matter, so to speak," he smiled at his own pun,
the objective of his order being simply to detect a lie on the face of
his opponent.

"You might have to pry one open yourself if you really want to see eye
to eye," Jack quipped reflexively, his voice dry and hoarse, but still
he lowered his arm as ordered, if only to get a good look at the face
before him. He blinked rapidly against the bright light until he could
focus on the thinning blond hair and pale skin of the middle aged man
belonging to the voice.

"Ah yes, most unfortunate," the Russian smiled again, weighing up the
injuries inflicted on the Air Force Colonel. "The Cairo mafia will do
anything for money, although this was beyond their call of duty. You
must have angered them badly."

"Always did have a habit of ticking people off. Guess they didn't like
my shortcut through their territory," Jack decided to feign ignorance
until he knew where this was going.

"Come now, Colonel, you are too modest," the Russian continued his false
charm, "Mr Marshall felt that you were very good at your job. He didn't
find out you were following him until Friday morning. Our sources
indicate that was four days after you started."

O'Neill's mind reeled, how the hell did they know that? Then the truth
dawned, someone had to have been following him just like they were
following Daniel, only he had been too stupid to consider the
possibility or notice he was being watched. Great covert op, Jack! He
mentally berated himself.

The blond man regarded him closely, reading his mind like a book, "Of
course, my dear Colonel, you had no way of knowing we were tracking
you." Jack stared at him, trying to make his face a blank page. "After
all, who would suspect your own commanding officer would give you up?"
The Russian laughed as Jack's mind reeled, wondering whether he had
heard correctly. What reason could General Hammond have to betray him to
the same people who were after Daniel?

"Now, onto those little questions we wish you to answer, then you can be
on your way." He paused to signal one of the guards standing beside him,
who pulled a mini camcorder from his pocket and prepared to record the
conversation, focusing on the spotlighted Colonel. "What can you tell us
about the Stargate program?"

Jack stared at him blankly, but his heart fell, "The what gate?" He
managed hoarsely.

"The Stargate. You know, large round ring, provides travel between
planets," the Russian knew the art of sarcasm almost as well as O'Neill.

"Sounds like science fiction to me," Jack smiled through cracked,
bloodied lips.

"And what about Abydos?"

"Oh, you mean the Temple of Seti One? Yeah, that's not far outside of
Luxor," O'Neill recalled quickly. Daniel would be proud of me, he told
himself, but was suddenly struck by a horrible thought. What if his
friend had already been through this exact same scenario? What if he was
still going through it, imprisoned in his own tomb. He could even be
somewhere nearby.

~~~~~~~~~~

At the Sound and Light show in front of the Sphinx, Daniel Jackson felt
someone take the seat beside him, seven rows from the back, fourteenth
seat on the left. He glanced sideways surreptitiously, feeling immense
relief when he recognised the face of the American tourist who was just
removing her wide brimmed floppy hat in the evening sunset.

"Doctor Fraiser," Jackson whispered happily, "Am I glad to see you."

"Rest assured, the feeling is mutual, Doctor Jackson. Sam sends her
love," Janet hissed, keeping her eyes straight ahead. "Seen any
unfriendlies lately?"

"Not since Saturday. You?"

"Only in as much as I flew in with Philip Marshall, would you believe?"
Janet whispered ironically, "So he's back in country already."

Daniel nodded thoughtfully, "Tell me what room you're in and I'll meet
you after the show."

Janet gave him the number and then announced in an extremely loud
American drawl that she really couldn't see a thing from this seat, she
would simply have to move. Gathering her large floppy hat and floral
canvas bag, the doctor rose from her seat, excused herself all the way
back along the row and went in search of a better view.

Daniel smiled to himself, relaxing a little now that he had seen his
first friendly face in two weeks. He stared up at the Great Pyramids,
their huge sandstone structures silhouetted against the still red tinged
dusk sky. The planet Venus slowly rose beyond in the deepening blue
night, the only bright star as yet visible.

~~~~~~~~~~

Unbeknownst to anyone outside, deep within the bowels of Kheops, the
first and largest of the Great Pyramids, a somewhat one sided
interrogation continued on into the dusk of that Thursday evening.
Slowly deteriorating into exhausted one word answers, the questions
revealing more about what the Russian already knew, which was proving to
be a substantial amount of names, but apparently little actual data.

In between his increasingly belligerent responses, Jack tried to
consider possible sources for their knowledge, pushing away the obvious
conclusion that they had obtained all this information from Doctor
Jackson. He didn't believe for one minute that Daniel would give up such
facts, even under extreme duress, and there was no indication so far
that they even had him in their hands.

No, there had to have been a major leak, someone at the SGC itself, or
an outsider with access to the data. Maybe someone working at the Area
52 complex, where any technology brought through the Stargate was
eventually sent. Or the Pentagon, or even someone in the political
arena. There were members of the Senate Committee and the Joint Chiefs
of Staff who had access to such information. Hell, why not include the
President, while you're at it, Jack? In fact, when he thought about it,
there were an awful lot of people that had knowledge of this so called
highly classified program. And what about General Hammond? But if he had
wanted to pass secrets to the Russians, why would they need Jack?

"Who is Klorel?" The Russian's next question startled Jack from his
reverie and prompted a surge of harrowing images of the Abydonian boy
Skaara dying in the Colonel's arms. A temporary release from being held
captive inside his own body, controlled by a Goa'uld larva.

"What's Chloral? Some kind of mouth wash?" Jack responded in an
exhausted whisper, wondering how much longer this could go on for, not
noticing one of the guards suddenly glance at his watch and murmur
something to the Russian.

"Time passes quickly, my dear Colonel," the man smiled cheerfully,
looking as if he had thoroughly enjoyed firing questions at the arrogant
American for most of the day. "I am afraid we will have to continue this
conversation later, I have a dinner engagement to attend! I do so look
forward to a good meal, maybe a glass or two of wine," he gloated.

Jack was unable to hide his relief at the end of this futile
interrogation session as he watched the Russian turn away to climb up
the ladder. Swiftly followed by the two armed guards, one training a
weapon on the captive at all times. The rope was removed and the
entrance sealed, before the light extinguished, plunging him into
darkness once more.

Safely alone, Jack's knees buckled beneath him stiffly. Weak from
exhaustion and lack of food, he slid to the floor, vaguely wondering
what had been achieved by either side in this battle of wills as he
drifted into a fitful sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

The tour bus delivered Janet Fraiser safely back to the hotel lobby
barely fifty minutes after the show had finished. But it was another two
hours of pacing and fretting before she heard a soft knock on her hotel
room door and found Daniel Jackson standing outside, his head bobbing
nervously from side to side as he checked and rechecked the empty
corridor.

"Thank God," Janet hissed as she stepped aside for him to enter, "I
wondered where you'd gotten to. It's nearly midnight!"

"Sorry, but I figured the main roads would be safer than cutting through
the old housing beside the plateau. And it's a long way round on foot,
especially when you're trying to stick with the crowds," Daniel
explained, checking the curtains were completely closed before sitting
in the armchair beside the window.

Janet handed him a bottle of water from the minibar and sat down on the
bed opposite, updating him on what had occurred since his original
disappearing act. She finished by describing the clandestine meeting
between General Hammond and Philip Marshall.

"None of this makes any sense," Daniel concluded. "What information can
a Senate Committee possibly need that they don't already have access to?
And why can't they just ask for it, instead of authorising what is
tantamount to kidnapping?"

"I don't know, Daniel," Janet frowned. She had been pondering that
thought since first transcribing the conversation in the Denver coffee
shop. "Besides, right now that's not important. For whatever reason,
they now have Colonel O'Neill and we have got to get him back."

Daniel nodded, the worry lines creasing his face, "I can understand
Hammond not being concerned about them going after me, I am only a
civilian. But I thought he would fight for Jack a bit harder. The
Colonel is too valuable to risk in some stupid political manoeuvring."

"I know," Janet agreed. "It's like, all of a sudden, General Hammond
isn't running things any longer. Like someone else is in charge."

"Philip Marshall, maybe?" Daniel wondered aloud.

"No," she shook her head dubiously, "There has to be someone else behind
this, someone higher."

Jackson gazed at the doctor, "So where do we go from here?"

"Daniel, is there anything around here called a 'Bark'?" Janet asked
thoughtfully, recalling the diary appointment she had seen in Marshall's
filofax for that Friday.

"Yes, there's a Solar Bark by Kheops Pyramid, the one you can see from
here," he explained. "It's an ancient sail boat belonging to the king.
It was discovered on a recent dig. They built a canopy around it because
it was too delicate to move and turned it into a museum." Daniel threw
her a puzzled glance, "Why do you ask?"

"Because Philip Marshall is due to meet someone there, tomorrow
afternoon at 4pm. I read it in his diary." She smiled at the astonished
look on Jackson's face, "I was sat next to him on the plane! Anyway, it
looked important."

"Then I guess we'll be visiting the Pyramids tomorrow," Daniel agreed.
"Mind if I bunk down here for the night?"

"Well I didn't expect you to sleep outside!" Janet laughed, "Help
yourself to the other bed, just promise you won't snore!" She glanced at
the clock, noticing it was already two in the morning and she didn't
feel at all tired yet, "God, I must still be jet lagged!" She said out
loud. "That reminds me, I promised I'd give Cassie a call after she
finished school. You don't mind if I stay up another hour until she gets
home, do you?"

Daniel shook his head, "No carry on, I'm not particularly sleepy yet
anyway, but I am hungry! You got anything edible in that mini bar?"

Janet gestured for him to check it out, so Daniel got up and opened the
cupboard door, rustling around to find a packet of salted peanuts. He
also took two bottles of beer from the fridge and opened them, "Just
what the doctor ordered!" He grinned, passing her a drink before opening
the peanuts and offering her some. Janet smiled gratefully, for once
agreeing with his prescription for a way to relax.

Daniel savoured the flavour of the Egyptian beer before continuing the
conversation, "Does Cassie know where you are?"

"No, she thinks I'm in Washington on business," Janet grimaced
unhappily, "I hate lying to her, but she already suspects something is
wrong. Jack's been gone so long without calling her, he's never let her
down like that before. I couldn't tell her I was coming to Egypt without
confirming her fear that he's in trouble."

"She really dotes on him, doesn't she?" Daniel smiled softly, knowing
from the way Jack talked about the youngster that the feeling went both
ways.

Janet nodded, "In Cassie's mind, Jack is her substitute for the father
she lost. If anything happens to him.......," she trailed off, unwilling
to follow that train of thought.

"Janet, we'll find him," Daniel assured her. "We have to," he added, as
if to convince himself.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jack didn't know how long he'd been asleep, but it didn't feel like
nearly long enough when someone kicked him in the stomach to rudely
awaken him. Another bruise to add to the collection, he told himself
ruefully, trying to clear his head and sit up. He blinked in the sudden
brightness, feeling a familiar cramp in his legs and the quaking of his
body.

He studied his visitors, recognising the same two guards as before. They
were joined by a third, rather bulky, shaven headed man who looked
vaguely Eastern European. However, the Russian was conspicuous by his
absence. Maybe he didn't like to get his hands dirty, Jack thought,
somehow he didn't think these guys were here to ask questions.
Instinctively he pushed his back up against the wall, bracing himself
for what was about to follow.

There was an ominously loud click as the hammer pulled back on a 9mm
Browning wielded by one of the guards. He glanced in that direction in
time to see it rising to train on his head. Jack froze, not even daring
to breath, staring straight down the barrel. The only movement being the
reflexive blink of his right eye, doing the work of two all the time his
left remained swollen shut and untended.

The other guard had a Kalashnikov assault rifle slung over his shoulder.
Moving to Jack's right side, he gripped an arm tightly to haul him up
off the floor, leaning him against the rough sandstone wall. The gun
barrel knocked against O'Neill's damaged hand, setting the nerve endings
screaming again and the Colonel had to clench his teeth, until he could
feel them grinding together, to stop himself from crying out. At least
he was too dehydrated to sweat or it would be pouring down his face. He
knew any sign of weakness would be jumped upon by these three men who
had apparently been given a job to do, on him.

Jack weighed the odds of what chance he might have to grab the AK47 from
his captor's shoulder, flick off the safety, rack the bolt and fire, one
handed, before he was shot by the other guard who already had him in his
sights. Less than zero, the Colonel thought to himself, wondering if he
ought to try anyway, it might be a better way to go. But he knew he
wasn't ready to die yet, not until he at least knew why.

The third man slowly and deliberately approached, examining him
carefully in the bright spotlight. He barked an order in stilted
Egyptian and the guard gripping Jack's arm pulled up his t-shirt roughly
to reveal the extent of bruising already colouring his chest and side. A
rainbow of purples, browns, yellows and reds mixing together to mark out
the weakest, most tender spots.

The bald headed Slav moved in, raising his fists and choosing his
target, slamming one solid fist into O'Neill's side to connect with a
boot shaped bruise from his earlier encounter, before pounding his chest
with a southpaw punch that knocked the air from his lungs to leave him
gasping. Jack slumped forward, head lolling, and the armed guard shifted
round in front of him slightly, reaching across to pin him back up
against the wall.

Gambling that most likely they had orders not to kill him, since
presumably they hadn't given up asking questions yet, O'Neill made his
move. Grabbing the stock of the weapon slung over the guard's shoulder,
Jack rammed it upwards to smash the butt against the man's chin.
Quickly, he hauled the limp body in front as cover against the bullets
from the second guard, who was already firing warning shots, before Jack
even had time to remove the safety on the AK47.

O'Neill couldn't hold his human shield and ready the weapon at the same
time with only one good hand and he could see the baldheaded man already
moving in for the kill. That left him the choice of flinging the stunned
guard at the Slav and exposing himself to gunfire or throwing the body
at the source of the bullets and getting into an all out fight with a
man who would probably be a match for Mike Tyson in any dark alley.

The option of dying by bullet or beating was no easy choice, but in the
end, Jack decided even championship boxers sometimes had glass jaws. He
gasped a lungful of air, then shoved the body as hard as he could
towards the second guard still showering the sandstone around them with
gunfire. The body danced in the air, hit repeatedly with bullets, as
Jack lunged towards the third man, knocking them both over in a crashing
dive. Only this time perhaps he had bitten off more than he could chew.

Dropping onto his back, the bulky man simply grasped the toppling
Colonel by the shoulders and tossed him over his head like a rag doll,
allowing a small smile at the bone crunching sound of the body hitting
the opposite wall. Not quite finished there, the Slav leapt to his feet
with tremendous agility for his size and strode across to where Jack lay
groaning, momentarily stunned.

Leering at him cruelly, the heavyweight kicked O'Neill in the testicles
and watched his face come alive, contorting with pain as he curled up
foetally. He noticed the outstretched hand, fingers already swollen and
crooked, and stamped down on it. He mashed hard with his boot until, at
long last, he got his ultimate satisfaction from the American, a blood
curling scream that Jack could no longer hold in.

The last thing O'Neill was aware of was the approach of the remaining
armed guard, the need for vengeance compelling as he reloaded his
Browning, pulling the hammer back with an ominous click. He trained it
on the fallen Colonel, his finger on the trigger as he aimed and fired.

~~~~~~~~~~

Daniel awoke with a start, his heart beating hard in his chest.
Wondering what had disturbed him, he glanced around in the dim light of
pre-dawn. He had only been asleep a couple of hours, but now he was wide
awake, his senses alert, searching for the source of his unease, but
finding nothing tangible.

Quietly, he rose from the bed and crossed to the curtains, checking
outside for any unwanted presence on the balcony, but there was noone in
sight. He walked to the door, his bare feet padding softly across the
carpet, and undid the flimsy latch, pulling the door ajar to peer into
the corridor. Still seeing nothing, Jackson opened the door fully and
stepped out, checking up and down the empty passageway before he was
satisfied. He walked back into the hotel room, locking the door behind
him again.

Janet sat up in her bed as he came back inside, "Something wrong?"

"No," Daniel shook his head, standing in the middle of the room looking
lost, "Sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep."

The doctor stared at him for a moment, blinking in the grey light, "Bad
dream?" She asked with a look of compassion.

"More like a bad feeling," Daniel admitted shakily.

"Jack?" Janet understood immediately, knowing she had guessed correctly
when he shrugged feebly, swallowing hard. He gazed at her with shining
blue eyes as he sat back down on his bed. "We'll find him," Janet said
softly, repeating his own earlier assurance. "Try to get some more
sleep."

~~~~~~~~~~

Cassandra had been busy since she got home from her friend Natalie's
house that evening. She still felt guilty about lying to the girl's
mother and was fervently hoping that the woman wasn't sufficiently
suspicious to actually telephone Samantha Carter to check whether Cassie
really was staying with her for the weekend.

Fortunately, school was closed on this Friday, so it wasn't like she was
going to have to skip classes, she had never done that and wouldn't want
to. Cass still enjoyed the novelty of school far too much to play
truant. She was also intelligent enough to realise that without the
lessons, and some extremely informative television shows, she would
never have learned enough to know how to book an airline flight with her
Mom's spare credit card, or how to give a convincing story about why
such a young girl was travelling alone. Not to mention how to urgently
obtain currency and travellers cheques over the telephone.

Now she had picked the lock on the desk drawer. Obtaining her forbidden
passport using the Swiss army knife that Jack had given her as a gift,
gladly teaching her all the different ways she could make use of its
numerous tools. Her rucksack was packed with any items she deemed
essential, including something to read on the long flight, and all that
remained was to arrange a taxi cab to take her to Denver airport in the
morning.

Finally, she ensured her menagerie of animals had sufficient food and
water to last until Natalie came to make her promised check on Saturday,
then she headed for bed. Setting her alarm clock for an early call,
Cassie lay down tiredly, too excited by the thought of her trip to fall
asleep quickly. In twenty four hours she would be landing in a foreign
country, although it would be Saturday morning there. That would take
some getting used to, she thought to herself.

She had once read that sometimes the end justified the means, never
understanding that statement until now. Cassie had accessed Captain
Carter's laptop computer, during her stay last weekend, simply to find
out where Jack was. She had planned to ring him to hear the sound of his
voice, to reassure herself that he was fine, just like her Mom had told
her. But late on Tuesday night, she had accidentally overheard Janet and
Sam talking and their tone had scared her.

When she found out her Mom was leaving town for a few days, it didn't
take much to put two and two together and it wasn't difficult to detect
the underlying worry in Janet's voice when she had rung Natalie's house
earlier that evening. It had been even easier to simply dial the number
she had given in case of emergency, listening to the person on the other
end of the long distance call announcing the name of the hotel. So
Cassie had decided to take a trip herself, she owed Janet and Jack so
much, now it was time to repay them. Besides, she smiled happily, she
had always wanted to see the Pyramids.

~~~~~~~~~~

The shock of cold water splashed against his face and a Russian voice
shouted harshly into his ear, "It's morning! Time to wake up, Colonel!"
His eyes still shut, O'Neill felt himself being hauled roughly to a
sitting position, every inch of his body screaming for release. Another
bucket of cold water was thrown over him and Jack shivered, licking his
lips and wiping his hand over his face to catch the drops and push them
into his mouth before they evaporated in the dry air.

"I'll let you have another bottle of water if you answer one question to
my satisfaction," the Russian taunted, smiling in amusement at the sight
of the Colonel ringing liquid from his filthy green t-shirt into his
mouth. He noted the livid bruises on his chest and side, wondering how
much more punishment the stubborn American could take.

"You might as well kill me now, I don't know anything," O'Neill retorted
grimly, sucking the remaining drops from the grubby material.

"Oh, I don't think so, Colonel." He signalled the armed guard who had
seen his comrade die accidentally by his own hand barely hours before.
Prevented from killing their captive by the Russian's untimely
reappearance, now he was finally released to vent his anger. The
Egyptian unslung the Kalashnikov, which had belonged to his fallen
comrade, and gripped the barrel, swinging the butt through the air to
impact Jack's stomach with a solid thwack.

O'Neill doubled over in pain, collapsing onto his side, trying not to
cry out. He really was beginning to wish they would just kill him and
get it over with, but he knew that was simply beyond hope, they weren't
finished with him yet. As he lay there, coughing and gasping for breath,
he noticed another new participant awkwardly descending the rope ladder,
a tool bag slung over one shoulder and a square box in his hand, its
distinct shape heralding a dreadful new ordeal for the suffering
Colonel.

"Ah, the electrician is here," the Russian smiled blithely, welcoming
the latest arrival and exchanging a few words in Egyptian before
stepping aside. The timid looking man set up his equipment, powering on
the portable generator to warm up and attaching jumper cables as the
engine settled into a steady hum.

If it were anymore possible, Jack would have paled at the sight, but he
was already a ghastly shade of white and the thought of electric shock
simply set his body quaking in advance. He tried to scrabble away from
the menacing machinery, but his retreat was halted by the armed guard,
who gave him a solid painful kick in the back with a steel toed boot.

The Russian watched raptly as the specialist continued to prepare for
his work. Taking a heavy mallet and a solid metal spike with a needle
eye tip from his tool bag, he surveyed the room, selecting an
appropriate site. At a point less than three yards from the nearest
corner, he bent down to hammer the spike into the ground, the clanging
sound of metal against metal echoing frighteningly around the tomb.

Jack viewed the scene with an attempted detachment, until the man
returned to his bag and withdrew a length of rope, handing it to the
Egyptian guard with several words of instruction. The native language
was unintelligible to O'Neill, but it was not difficult to guess what
had been said and he fought gamely to stop the guard from securing the
rope around his legs.

Kicking and scrambling, Jack tried to escape from his grasp, wriggling
away until the Egyptian grew impatient. Handing his Kalashnikov to the
electrician, he moved around the body and brutally stomped down on
O'Neill's damaged left side. Jack gasped in agony as the guard ground
his studded boots against bruising the Egyptian knew already existed
after the encounter the previous night. Pinning the Colonel painfully
into place, he bent over and bound his ankles tightly.

With a long loose end of rope left free, the guard used it to drag the
body into the corner of the room, looping the cord through the needle of
the spike that had been driven solidly into the ground. Securing it with
a firm knot, the Egyptian guard collected his Kalashnikov back from the
electrician and took up position near the Colonel to watch the fun
begin.

All preparation complete, the electrician pulled on a pair of thick
rubber gloves and lifted the now hot cables. Helplessly trapped, Jack's
gaze was fixed on the sparking heads of the approaching leads. In
growing panic, he writhed and jerked his legs, but the harder he
struggled the tighter his bonds grew, every desperate tiny pull of his
feet only serving to ensnare him even more.

Cornered like some terrified animal, Jack braced himself as blue sparks
jumped from the metal ends, his face contorting in ghastly anticipation,
watching his torturer move them inexorably closer to the trapped soles
of his bare feet. His mind numbed with terror, O'Neill heard the
sizzling and smelled searing flesh before recognising the jolt of
electricity coursing through his body. He clenched his teeth, biting
back a scream of agony for an interminably long moment before he passed
out from the excruciating pain.

Cold water awakened him and this time he barely had the strength to
retrieve any drops that didn't hit his mouth. As his senses became more
alert, Jack noticed the guard place the half full container almost
within reach on his right. When the sparking cables touched his feet
again O'Neill writhed on the floor, his face contorted in horrific
distress, but desperately trying to stay focused. He managed to edge
sideways, closer to the bucket, but it was too far away from his left
hand, his only chance was his right.

Bolts of agony shot up his arm as he grasped the handle with broken
fingers, bone and nerve grinding together as he forced them to clench
tighter. Releasing a blood curdling scream of pain, Jack hauled the
bucket off the ground, launching it with all the strength of his upper
body, and flung it at the generator. Sparks and flames shot out as the
menacing hum of electricity ceased with a sputter.

The owner of the equipment was positively distraught by its untimely
demise, while the Russian allowed an evil smile to replace his anger,
realising the extent of possibilities in that broken hand. He ordered
the electrician to leave and take his smouldering box with him, then
signalled the guard to grab O'Neill's right arm.

"Now, perhaps you will answer some of my questions a bit more civilly?"
The Russian leered at his prisoner, enjoying the agony contorting the
American's features as the guard twisted and ground broken bones
together.

"Not in your lifetime!" Jack hissed through gritted teeth, his breath
heaving raggedly.

The questions continued for what seemed an eternity, but in reality
probably measured no more than hours. The agony increased in direct
proportion with O'Neill's insolence, underlying his growing certainty
that he would never be using that hand again, so in that respect he had
nothing left to lose.

Four times Jack passed out and each time he was revived by the splash of
a seemingly endless supply of water. Until finally, as the American's
head lolled forward yet again, the Russian checked his watch and ordered
the guard to release him.

Finished for the moment and with a more pressing engagement to attend
to, the blond man headed up the rope ladder, closely followed by the
armed guard. The entrance was resealed behind them and the room fell
into darkness once more. The only sound remaining was the shallow
rasping breath of one unconscious Colonel.

~~~~~~~~~~

Daniel and Janet had been wandering around Giza plateau since lunch
time, acting like a happy tourist couple who thought the Sphinx was
"just wild, man!" Doctor Jackson had wrapped a long white linen scarf
around his head to cover his hair turban style like one of the locals
and donned a pair of very dark glasses. He still hadn't shaved, sporting
quite a decent beard growth, and he wore a gaudily bright Hawaiian style
shirt that he had purchased from the hotel gift shop, hoping that the
eye catching sight would be the best distraction for anyone who knew
what he looked like, including Philip Marshall.

The afternoon heat was beginning to pass its peak, when the figure of
the Assistant to the US Ambassador eventually appeared on the shimmering
horizon. He climbed from his, now dusty, white Ford Maverick, sun
glinting off the dark tinted windows, and walked across the stretch of
open land in front of Kheops.

The American couple slowly wandered to the entrance of the boat museum
and bought tickets from an Egyptian vendor dressed in traditional light
grey gallabiya robes, a grubby white scarf wrapped around jet black
hair. Heading inside just in front of the Embassy worker, Janet removed
her wide brimmed sunhat and withdrew the camcorder, that Sam had loaned
her, from the large floral canvas bag. She feigned all the right sounds
of amazement as she drifted away from her partner to take a myriad of
shots of the Solar Bark.

Daniel gazed around the high airy museum, noticing a man leaning against
a pillar on the upper level, dressed in a business suit and seemingly
disinterested in the museum's contents. Jackson walked along to the
stairway, stopping occasionally to show fascination in the fabulous
craftsmanship of the vessel as he headed for the top floor. He took up
position on the railing above the bark, waving and calling loudly to
Janet about how marvellous the boat was and did she want him to get a
picture from above.

"Stay there, darling, I want to get some of you," Janet drawled,
understanding his hidden meaning.

He watched her walk around the structure and climb the stairs to the
middle level. She aimed the lens across the open gap, focusing on the
two men now deep in discussion a few feet behind Daniel. With the full
zoom on, she could clearly identify Philip Marshall, talking with an
older, pale man with thinning blond hair. As the conversation grew more
animated, Marshall shifted, turning his back to her and obscuring the
face of the other man. There would be no chance of reading their lips
this time.

However, the curved structure of the museum roof afforded excellent
acoustics, the sound of heavy debate travelling clearly across to Doctor
Jackson, neither man seeming to care as their voices rose. The reason
was obvious when Daniel recognised the language being spoken. The two
men apparently felt certain there would be noone nearby who could
understand Russian and know what they were talking about.

"How much longer?" Marshall asked irritably.

"He is proving extremely stubborn," the other man replied defensively,
"Apparently he is not the type to beg for mercy, no matter how far he is
pushed."

"What did you expect? He's a seasoned Air Force Colonel! You knew he'd
been through this before," the American exclaimed angrily.

"All the more reason why I expected him to break after a few days of
such claustrophobic imprisonment and deprivation." He paused
thoughtfully, "I will need to find another weak spot."

"Well, do it soon," Marshall ordered, "I don't know how much longer I
can hold them off. Hammond's starting to ask questions. He's threatening
to go to the President."

The older man looked puzzled, "What good will that do him, your
President knows nothing?"

"Exactly! It will tell him that the President doesn't know anything
about an operation that was supposedly given his seal of approval!" He
explained, shaking his head in exasperation. "This would have all been
over by now if your men in Luxor had just done their job properly."

"Doctor Jackson proved to be an extremely elusive and capable opponent,
as would O'Neill have been had he not been more concerned for his friend
than for himself. I believe it is you who underestimated them," the man
said coldly, "And now we will have to take drastic steps to finish
this."

Marshall held up his hands defensively, "I don't have time for the
details, copy me in on your written reports, just get the job done and
do it fast. We have to be out of here by mid week at the latest. "

"Do not worry, my dear Philip," the man smiled chillingly, "in his
current state the Colonel will already be dead by then!" That ended the
discussion and he turned to stride along the upper walkway and down the
stairs.

Janet watched him leave, moving to follow him to the lower level,
leaving Daniel to keep an eye on Marshall. The Russian disappeared
through a door marked "Authorised Access Only". She tried the handle to
find it locked. "Damn," Janet muttered under her breath, turning around
to head for the exit, out into the sunlight to wait for Doctor Jackson.

Philip Marshall appeared soon after, striding back across the rough
rocky plateau towards his four wheel drive. Daniel took a few more
minutes before following him out. He rejoined her in the sun a few yards
from the base of Kheops pyramid, looking pale.

"Did you hear anything?" Janet asked with some concern when she saw his
face.

Daniel nodded, deciding to save explanations for later, instead he
asked, "What happened to the blond guy?"

"He went through an access door in the bottom level. I tried to follow
him, but it was locked," Janet admitted unhappily. "I figured I'd wait
out here until he reappeared. You did say there's no other way out of
that building, right?"

"Yeah, I went all around the outside earlier, there's only one entrance.
I guess there must be some offices in the basement or something." He
eyed two members of the Tourist and Antiquities police seated nearby,
dressed in their crisp white shirts, gold braided epaulets, AK47s
resting in their laps. "Let's head down nearer the Sphinx and watch from
there. The museum closes in a few minutes, he'll have to come out soon."

"Okay, then you can tell me what you heard inside," Janet said
insistently.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Dmitri Alesandrov returned through the tunnels into the depths of
the ancient pyramid, he headed directly for the makeshift supply store
on the upper level. Unlocking the decidedly modern wooden door, he
stooped low to clear his head within the confined space, lighting his
way with the powerful gas lamp he had collected at the entrance from the
burial chamber of the Solar Bark.

Selecting a number of glass vials from their protective polycarbonate
container, he stashed them inside a hard shell medical case and headed
for the inner sanctum, gathering his men from the temporary bunk room
along the way.

Leaving one as the usual backup in the tunnel above, the Russian
followed the remaining guard down the rope ladder into the concealed
chamber. Imagining for the umpteenth time the riches of gold and jewels
that may once have resided there, hidden from all except a few well
informed tomb robbers. How ironic that once more it was being used to
secrete something of great value, only this time it was a wealth of
knowledge that was contained within.

Stationing the well armed Egyptian within a few feet of the unconscious
prisoner, whose ankles were still tied to the spike in the ground, the
Russian bent down to examine the Colonel's condition. He knew from the
weak, thready pulse that he would have to take this slowly if he was to
succeed in obtaining information rather than killing him too soon. It
was going to be a long night, Alesandrov thought to himself, opening his
case and extracting a hypodermic needle to insert into a carefully
chosen glass vial.

"Untie him and wake him up," he told the guard, who grinned viciously
and stepped forward to do the honours.

Jack's head snapped to one side with the impact of a punch to the jaw
that split his cracked bottom lip open. Tasting the blood in his mouth,
he tried to come to his senses, his heart racing and his body
complaining horrendously from the multitude of suffering. Reluctantly,
he squinted up at the unwanted sight of one well armed guard and the
leering Russian.

O'Neill was slow to realise his legs were free once more. Scrambling
backwards, he tried to avoid the follow up swing he could see coming,
but his shoulders hit warm sandstone, coming to a halt in time for the
Egyptian's fist to meet his jaw. His head banged against the wall and
fresh blood spurted from his mouth, spilling down the front of his t-
shirt as the guard moved in to grab his arms and haul him roughly to his
feet. Jack's head lolled forwards, dazed and bleeding, his legs buckling
beneath him, but the man held him upright, pinned against the wall.

Feeling a stabbing pain inside his instep, the Colonel tried to recall
when he had received such an injury, but before he came up with any
coherent answer, he heard the Russian bark an unintelligible order. He
shook his head to clear it, a look of confusion crossing his face as he
slowly focused on the hypodermic needle in the Russian's hand. Then he
spotted a hard shell container lying open on the floor to reveal an
array of medical vials and supplies and O'Neill fought to suppress the
sudden panic that gripped him, writhing and wriggling in a futile effort
to escape the guard's vice like hold.

The Russian smiled cruelly, recognising the emotions crossing the
American's bruised and bloodied features. He held up the syringe in his
right hand, signalling his henchman to grab an arm. "Well, my dear
Colonel, we have come to a crossroad it seems. The decision is now
yours. Do you tell us all you know readily, or do you suffer horribly
and reveal all to us later anyway?"

Jack remained silent, glaring at the man as he attempted to swallow his
fear. He didn't know what the vial contained but he was certain in the
knowledge that he could not outwit a chemical. It seemed that all of his
effort to suppress even the slightest thought of the Stargate and its
secrets might now be undone under the influence of drugs.

"You're probably wondering what is in the syringe," the Russian
observed. "It is nothing complex, just a simple but decidedly painful
dose of a synthetic concoction your own government came up with. It's a
form of lysergic acid diethylamide, or LSD as you may prefer to call
it."

"Hey, I was around in the sixties. Been there, done that!" Jack quipped
hoarsely.

"Nothing quite as special as this, I guarantee you, Colonel," the
Russian gloated. "This particular variety has been greatly enhanced to
produce rapid results, it will effect the seratonin receptors of your
brain, produce vivid flashbacks, loss of impulse control, wild mood
swings. Your government uses it in brainwashing techniques," he paused
for effect, "And it is much faster acting. Within minutes you will begin
to feel the initial symptoms. Increased heart rate, temperature and
blood pressure, a loss of appetite, sweats, tremors, dry mouth and
ultimately, as your senses are overcome, intense pain."

"No change there then," Jack's feeble attempt at humour sounded grim to
his ears.

"It is your choice, Colonel O'Neill," Alesandrov pointed out, "As I
said, you can tell me now and avoid more suffering, or you can test out
the effectiveness of this chemical and be powerless to avoid revealing
the truth while under its influence."

Jack stared wordlessly, refusing to give them the satisfaction of
hearing the quiver of fear in his voice. The guard tightened his grip
and the Russian approached with the needle, a drop of the chemical
escaping down the shaft as he readied the injection. O'Neill shied away
from it, tensing his muscles, his hand clenched. His face contorted in
the futile effort of escaping their grasp as he watched the needle point
draw inexorably closer to the crook of his trapped right elbow.

The Russian was clearly enjoying himself, a brutal, twisted smile
highlighting his face as he saw the Colonel's reaction. The needle
plunged expertly into a vein and Jack realised without a doubt that the
man had done this before, sometime in his abhorrent past.

Jack gasped, he could almost sense the chemical coursing through his
veins. Helplessly he felt his heart rate quicken and his body begin to
shake in reaction to the toxic dose. He heard a voice, dim and
indistinct, and his arms were released. He dropped to the floor onto his
hands and knees as his vision began to swim. Numbly he recognised the
pain in his fingers and lifted his right hand without thinking, tipping
the balance of his swaying body. He toppled onto one side, his
equilibrium no longer functioning.

The light before him began to dissolve, unreal colour vividly crowding
his view in an excruciating crescendo that he could feel and hear. The
sound mixed with the rasping noise of his heaving breath and a strange
distorted laughter that faded in and out as his sensory perception
became clouded.

Alesandrov stepped back to watch and wait, recognising all the classic
symptoms he had seen so many times before in victims long since
deceased. Tinged with a feeling of nostalgia for the good old days of
his cold war exploits, he had forgotten just how rewarding this work
could be given a challenging enough adversary. Now he knew it was only a
matter of time before the severity of pain and hallucination increased
and the Colonel would finally be broken. He resolved to enjoy it whilst
it lasted.

~~~~~~~~~~

Daniel and Janet were finally forced to leave Giza plateau when the
police secured the site for the evening in preparation for the sound and
light show. Despondently, they walked the mile down the hill to the
hotel, trying to absorb the implications of the eavesdropped
conversation along with the fact that the Russian had failed to emerge
from the boat museum during the length of their vigil.

"It could mean one of two things," Daniel suggested eventually, "Either
he's still inside, or there's a passage leading into the pyramid and he
went out that way."

"But we had a good view of the whole plateau all that time, surely we
would have seen him leave?" Janet argued logically.

"Unless he stayed inside the pyramid, but why would he do that?" Daniel
thought aloud, a light slowly dawning in his eyes.

Janet gazed at him with a growing feeling of unease, "Daniel, are there
rooms inside the pyramids?"

He nodded, the idea already occurring to him as well, he just couldn't
bring himself to say it. "Then that's where they're keeping Jack," she
realised worriedly. "What the hell do we do now?"

Daniel was silent for a long moment, struggling to keep a clear head
amidst his rising panic. Eventually he spoke, "We should head back to
Jack's hotel room in Cairo, download the film into my laptop and send it
to Sam to see if she can identify the blond man. Then tomorrow morning,
we can go to the Cairo Museum and check out the blueprints for Kheops."

"Do you think that guy was really Russian?" Janet asked after a long
pause.

"It might explain a few things if he was, I guess. Oh, I don't know,"
Daniel shook his head, "It all seems a bit cliché, doesn't it? I mean, I
thought the cold war was over?"

"Maybe, but there is talk of the Soviet military trying to make a
comeback. They need power and information to do that," Janet mused,
"What better way than to obtain knowledge of the Stargate program?"

Daniel looked puzzled, "But what good would it do them?"

"Well, for a start, they'd have quite a hold over any US President who
was still hiding the secret from the voting public! Maybe that's all
they need," Janet pondered, the ideas still forming, "Or to re-establish
their supremacy in the space race, that is the next unconquered
frontier, after all."

"It still doesn't explain how they found out about it in the first
place," Daniel pointed out, "Sam couldn't find any ties between Philip
Marshall and the Stargate program. They must have obtained the
information from a leak somewhere."

"Yes, and if we're going to stop this from succeeding, we need to know
who the leak is." Janet recalled the General's lack of support in the
matter, "Or, at least, who it isn't!"

"You don't think Hammond would knowingly.......," Daniel trailed off,
analysing all the possible explanations. He shook his head, "No, I don't
believe that. From what Marshall said, it sounded more like the General
was being duped into thinking there had been Presidential approval on
the operation. I think, as far as Hammond is concerned, he's simply
following orders."

"But what an order!" Janet's tension exploded angrily, "Hey General,
we're just going to kidnap, torture, and possibly murder, a member of
your best team for our covert information gathering operation! Oh, and
by the way, here's the Presidential approval, but whatever you do don't
check the signature!"

Suddenly realising that Daniel was no longer beside her, Janet turned
around. He had stopped a few yards back up the road, staring at her with
painfilled eyes. The doctor's rage deflated as she realised what she had
said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. This whole business is just making
me edgy, not knowing who we can trust." She stepped towards him, placing
a hand on his arm, "Jack is going to be all right, we'll make sure of
that. Come on," she steered him down the path, "We need to make some
plans. Figure out how we're going to get him out of there."

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam Carter was spending Friday morning in one of the labs, tediously
inputting data to a spreadsheet for another of the Pentagon's new
reports. She was bored out of her mind and more concerned about her
colleagues than she cared to admit. Sam had not heard anything since
Janet flew off two days earlier and she was now permanently online to
her personal e-mail account just in case one of them sent a message.

All the sleepless nights were catching up with her and she was just
contemplating heading out for yet another cup of black coffee, when an
alarm on the computer pinged. Hurriedly, she checked her inbasket to
find an e-mail from Daniel, opening it and rapidly scanning the text.
She reread it several times in disbelief, deciding the only way to
verify his theories would be to get an identification on the man in the
picture he had attached.

Expertly Sam called up a government database, using codes belonging to
the security detail at the SGC, a rotating post that she herself had the
misfortune of being assigned to once every two months. Still it provided
her with access to all sorts of files that would otherwise be
unobtainable.

Surprisingly, given the subject of her search, it did not take long to
put a name to the face. Formerly known as Dmitri Nikolayevich
Alesandrov, he had been a Soviet KGB operative who defected to the
United States over ten years ago, towards the end of the cold war. All
the information on him was historic, with nothing new available since
his relocation and change of identity. Although, it was apparent, from
what Daniel had heard, that the man was still actively pursuing his
chosen career.

It also seemed that Philip Marshall's new position as Assistant to the
US Ambassador in Egypt was a convenient front for work in the
intelligence community. The fact that he could speak fluent Russian made
it far more than a coincidence for him to be chosen as Egyptian liaison
for this particular operation. Especially since that piece of
information had been left out of the Embassy personnel file that Carter
had originally accessed for Colonel O'Neill.

Sam sat back and absorbed the data on her computer screen. So everything
pointed to this whole affair being run by US intelligence, but to what
possible end?

Doing her best to disguise her words so that only Daniel would
understand their meaning, Sam quickly composed a message regarding her
findings, praying he was still online to receive it and would know what
to do.

An hour later, she was staring at his response, wishing to God that
there was some other way. She knew Daniel was right, if they really were
holding the Colonel inside one of the pyramids, they would never be able
to slip in undetected and track him down in the maze of passages and
chambers. She had to confront Hammond, explain to him that he was being
mislead regarding the supposed Presidential approval, and try to find
out what the purpose was of this covert operation.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dmitri Alesandrov had been waiting several hours, but the moment had
finally arrived as the American Colonel began murmuring deliriously. The
screams of agony had abated, much to the Russian's relief. Delightfully
satisfying though the suffering had been, the effects of the sound in
the close confines of the tomb, coupled with a lack of sleep, were
giving him a headache.

Now he concentrated hard, listening intently for valuable pieces of
information in the disoriented mumblings of the heavily drugged man, but
so far he had only heard names. Mainly ones which he recognised from his
study of O'Neill's personnel file, thoughtfully provided the previous
week by Philip Marshall when the information that the Colonel was in
Cairo had been received, altering their plans to something much more
fascinating and infinitely more of a challenge for the Russian's skills.

Alesandrov had learned some useful details about his captive from that
file, especially with regard to potential weak spots. A harrowing
incident during his imprisonment in the Gulf War had provided the entire
backdrop for his current confinement. Certainly, the tomb was not as
small as he would have liked, but it was an ideal location to cause as
much sensory deprivation and claustrophobia as possible, whilst ensuring
the resourceful man had no hope for escape.

"Sara!" O'Neill murmured again, clearly in the grip of a frightening
vision. His fist clenched tightly, his whole body tensing. "No!" He
screamed suddenly, rolling onto his side and trying to stand in his
delirium, his open gaze helplessly watching events unfold. Jack saw his
wife Sara and son Charlie, captured and bound by Apophis to be used as
hosts. His drug induced disorientation mixing together tragic realities
into one desperate grief filled moment of defeat and loss.

Charlie stared in terror at the mature Goa'uld larva that was crawling
over his shoulder, preparing to burrow into the back of his neck. He
looked at his father, "I hate you! I hate you!" The young boy shouted
fiercely, "Look what you've done to us! This is all your fault!" His
voice was cut off with a gasp of agony and his eyes suddenly glowed as
if to emphasise his point.

"No!" Jack whispered hoarsely, his pain filled voice barely audible. He
gazed at his wife as she was forced to endure the same fate. Her eyes
lit up with a chilling blaze, her mind and body overtaken by an alien
presence. He watched her loving smile die, replaced by a cold blank
unrecognising stare. Jack screamed again, stumbling backwards in shock
at the loss of his family to an enemy he had spent so long fighting. The
Goa'uld had finally won and O'Neill had suffered the ultimate defeat.

Suddenly, he heard a voice close by, a strange accent, "Who is it,
Colonel? Who are you fighting?" O'Neill looked around trying to find the
source of the voice. "Tell me, Colonel. I can help you! Who is it?" The
Russian whispered urgently in his ear.

"Apophis!" Jack gasped in desperate sorrow, "It's Apophis!"

"What is he doing?" Alesandrov eagerly tried to pry the information from
the delirious Colonel before the moment passed.

"He's taking my family!"

"Why?" The Russian asked excitedly, his anticipation high at finally
getting answers to some of his questions.

"Revenge!" Jack hissed, still staring into the distance at the
hallucinatory sight, watching his wife and son as they left him.
Transported inside golden rings which first lowered and then retracted
through the ceiling of the pyramid, the glow of the very real spotlight,
helping to turn the vivid image into reality for the deluded man.

"For what?" The Russian shouted, but Jack did not answer, he was looking
for a way to help his family, a way to prevent them from leaving him.
Alesandrov grabbed his shoulders, desperately shaking him to regain his
attention, "Revenge for what, Colonel?"

Jack finally turned to face him, the image dissolving, his gaze slowly
clearing to focus on the man and Dmitri knew the moment was gone by the
sudden look of recognition on his face.

The Colonel stared at his nemesis in shock, trying to grasp the last
fleeting moments of imagery, fighting to recall what he might have told
him, suddenly afraid by the excitement reflected in those cold eyes.
Fearful that he had revealed something of value without realising,
without having any control over his words, Jack felt completely
powerless. For the first time in this whole affair, he knew with
absolute certainty that not only was his fate in this Russian man's
hands, but so were the actions of his remaining life from this point
forth.

Silently Jack watched his torturer, struggling supremely to keep it
together. The man reluctantly released his shoulders and calmly stood,
walking across to the hard shell case still resting open on the floor,
watched over by the remaining Egyptian guard who had been covering
events intently.

Alesandrov reached a hand into the case, selecting a second container of
the drug. One more dose should do it, he decided, the added pain
quotient alone would suffice, with the increased density of toxin in his
system. The Colonel's life would be his, to control as he saw fit.

With a fresh hypodermic and the vial, he approached the American,
watching in amusement as the weakened man feebly attempted to scramble
away from him. Dmitri made a show of inserting the needle into the
container and filling the syringe with the clear, colourless, innocent
looking fluid. Turning, he signalled the guard for his help and stood
waiting until the Egyptian had the Colonel pinned by the shoulders, his
right arm forcibly outstretched, so that the Russian could insert the
needle.

Jack gasped, his chest heaving, too effected by the drugs poisoning his
system to fight anymore. The hypodermic plunged into a vein, forming a
new pinprick sized hole not far from the first. He tried to jerk his arm
away, but the guard held it in a vice like grip, a smile on his own face
to reflect the Russian's as he noticed how exquisitely slowly Alesandrov
injected the fluid, vengefully drawing out the agony as long as possible
for the tormented Colonel.

~~~~~~~~~~

General Hammond had left early for the day, so Captain Carter was forced
to go to his house. She found him surrounded by family, apparently it
was somebody's birthday, there were balloons and brightly wrapped
presents strewn on the back lawn. The General's grandchildren were
running around excitedly, while his son helped him with the barbecue and
his daughter-in-law prepared dishes of salad inside a kitchen that
looked out across the happy scene.

When General Hammond saw the look on Sam's face, he excused himself and
led her into the study. The sound of children playing without a care in
the world drifted through the window and Carter couldn't help see the
irony as she confronted their grandfather, wondering what his response
would be once she had finished telling him everything she knew.

"So you have no proof of any of this, just the hearsay of an overheard
conversation in a foreign language which could have been mistranslated!"
Hammond argued forcefully.

"With all due respect, Sir," Carter exclaimed indignantly, "Irrespective
of whether the President has approved this operation, how could you
allow them to do this to the Colonel? He looks up to you like a father,
you wouldn't allow this to happen to your own son!"

"My son is not in the military, Captain!" Hammond snapped, angry at
having to justify his actions to her.

"Well, I don't believe Colonel O'Neill signed up for the sort of
military you seem to be taking orders from at present!" Carter was
trying her best not to be insolent to a superior officer, but it was
becoming a real struggle. How could he be so blind?

"Colonel O'Neill would understand. You'd be surprised at some of the
things he has been forced to do under orders," the General said
defensively.

"I'd be surprised if any of them included betraying his own men!" Carter
yelled, no longer able to control her rage.

"Captain, I have my orders," Hammond explained placatingly, "There's
nothing I can do."

"What orders could possibly make these actions legal?" Sam shouted, "You
know they're wrong. What do they have on you to make you roll over and
die like this?"

Hammond took a deep breath, deciding to come clean, "The SGC, Captain.
That is what's at stake here. The future of the Stargate program and,
consequently, the future of this entire planet."

"And that's worth Jack O'Neill's life?" Sam's voice was suddenly soft,
as though to say the words too loud would make them reality.

The General looked at her confidently, "I have their word that he will
not be harmed."

"And you believe that?" Carter cried in astonishment, "What else would
they be doing with him!" Sam bit her tongue, trying to calm her anger,
knowing reasoning with him was her only chance. "Sir, Colonel O'Neill
has been missing for a week. Do you think he can endure that kind of
confinement again? You know how antsy he gets being cooped up on base
for too long." She placed a pleading hand on his arm, "If Daniel is
right about where they're holding him, it would be worse than any Iraqi
prison cell. It could push him over the edge and this time he might not
recover."

"That's the whole point of the exercise, Captain." Hammond explained
uncomfortably, "They want to see what a key member of SG1 will do under
pressure. They want to know how much he will reveal to the enemy."

"Under duress?" Sam flushed red as things slotted into place in her
mind. Up till now, she herself had trouble believing the full contents
of the conversation Daniel had overheard, but now it was beginning to
appear all too true. "They're torturing him! And you're letting them get
away with it!"

"They promised it wouldn't be done that way. There are other methods
nowadays, Captain."

"So you think chemical or psychological abuse is acceptable? Since when
did you come to trust the government more than you trust your own gut
instinct, Sir?" Carter tried desperately to reason with him one more
time, "General, you know the Goa'uld have far different methods of
extracting information. What is this 'exercise' going to prove?"

"It's not about how we hold up against the Goa'uld. It's about how we
would hold up against other nations," Hammond explained. "You know the
Russians are attempting to regain power. Then there's the Chinese and
any number of Asian and Middle Eastern governments who would kill to get
their hands on this technology."

"You've really bought into their brand of paranoia, haven't you, Sir?"
Carter said sarcastically. "Don't you think Jack's done enough, fighting
the Goa'uld and saving this planet, to prove his loyalty?"

"They weren't supposed to take Jack!" The words were out of Hammond's
mouth before he could stop them.

Carter remembered what had started this crisis, her face showing renewed
shock, "Daniel! It was meant to be Daniel? My god, Sir, he's not even
military. What about his civil rights?"

"The fact that Doctor Jackson is a civilian who was not even living on
this planet for a year is what prompted their concern," the General
explained. "Somehow he eluded them. I guess they underestimated him."

"And I believe they've underestimated the Colonel if they think he's
going to give them anything, no matter how long they are allowed to
continue this insane charade," Carter attested to the limitless strength
she had seen in her own CO.

"They have assured me he will be back by the end of the month," Hammond
told her.

"But that's another week! What if he can't hold out that long?"

"Then the Stargate program will be shut down and buried forever rather
than run the risk of another nation obtaining the knowledge," Hammond
sounded like he was quoting from a political pamphlet.

"Has it occurred to you, Sir, that might just be the aim of this whole
operation?" Carter asked, "That this entire scenario was setup to ensure
the closure of an expensive and highly secretive project? Or at least to
put its control into the hands of people who might not be so benevolent
towards the populated worlds we visit?"

Hammond paled at this new, overwhelmingly plausible, reasoning, "And how
do you suggest we confirm this?"

"Well, Sir, if they say they aren't going to harm the Colonel, which I
strongly disbelieve, or what else can they do in two weeks that they
haven't already tried in one, ask them for proof of his healthy
condition. If it's not immediately forthcoming, then.......," Sam
trailed off uneasily.

"Then we've got a big problem," Hammond finished her statement shakily,
finally realising just how misguided the whole operation might be.

Sam nodded gravely, her heart sinking at the thought of what Colonel
O'Neill could be going through while they debated his disappearance. To
wait for confirmation from the people behind this covert objective might
be to wait too long.

~~~~~~~~~~

Colonel O'Neill was in deep trouble and knew it, but that didn't stop
him hoping for even the briefest moment of opportunity. His three person
team had been captured and imprisoned shortly after their arrival on
Chulak, thrown into this dark stone walled tomb by the Serpent Guard of
Apophis, forced to bide their time as they awaited their fate.

SG1's misfortune did have at least one bright side. As Jack continued
his examination along every inch of the seemingly inescapable fortress
walls, he had stumbled across Skaara, his young Abydonian friend, whom
O'Neill had felt sure was lost to him following the surprise raid by
Apophis against Skaara's home planet.

Jack hugged the boy with a feeling of immense relief, he really had not
wanted to face the thought of losing him again and now it seemed he
would not have to.

Together they continued to search for a way out of their captivity,
turning towards the sound of a low rumble to see the entrance slowly
unseal and a gaily decked procession come forth into the chamber. The
Colonel watched Apophis arrive to present his new bride, a pretty blonde
with dead blue eyes that suddenly glowed with a hidden controlling
presence as she took her husband's hand and stepped forward proudly.

Jack gasped in horror at the sight of his wife Sara, her body taken over
by a Goa'uld larva. He wanted to rush headlong into attack, to feel
Apophis' thin neck crushed beneath his grasp, but he could not endanger
the rest of his team, or his young friend. They were looking to him for
leadership, trusting him to get them free safely.

He felt Skaara's hand place light pressure on his shoulder as they were
forced to kneel before the gods. "O'Neill, it will not help," he
murmured, reading Jack's thoughts by the tensing of his body, "It is too
late for her." His attention was caught by a shouted order and a clap of
hands as several servants stepped into the crowd. "They are seeking
hosts," Skaara's voice was a revolted whisper, "For the Children of the
Gods."

Jack watched helplessly, powerless to intercede on behalf of these
unfortunate people without giving up the chance of his team's escape.
Near the edge of the throng a young girl, dressed in the traditional
robes of the planet she had been stolen from, cried out as she was
grabbed by a large Jaffa, who inspected her roughly before presenting
her to the waiting gods.

Suddenly a Serpent guard stood tall before O'Neill and Skaara, making a
beeline for the young Abydonian, whose strength of character shone forth
brightly to complement his perfect physical appearance. A specimen good
enough for promotion to deity if ever there was one.

"Skaara!" Jack cried out as the boy was grabbed by the powerful Jaffa,
leaping to his aid as Skaara struggled with the hulking guard, but the
barrel of a staff weapon smashed O'Neill across the chest, knocking him
off his feet, winded and gasping. He was kicked to the floor, the point
of the weapon hovering over his heart, so close Jack could feel the heat
of the primed tip, all set to administer a fatal energy bolt if he made
any move, or if Apophis gave such an order.

Helplessly, the Colonel was forced to watch Skaara being hauled away and
presented for approval to the gods. Jack gasped in anguish, instantly
recognising the fair haired boy leading the ritual introduction of
larvae into their new hosts.

With a flash of glowing eyes, Charlie gloated at his former parent as he
placed a mature Goa'uld larva onto the shoulder of the captured
Abydonian, watching with glee as it burrowed into the neck. Jack
screamed Skaara's name in grief and rage as his friend's shining eyes
went dead and then suddenly glowed with the new power of evil within.

Apophis smiled triumphantly at the human's ultimate defeat, then
gathered his family around him and signalled the Serpent Guard to kill
the remaining prisoners.

Realising he was going to die anyway, O'Neill made one last ditch
attempt to fight back. He swiped his leg sideways to knock over the
Jaffa and then rolled, grabbing the end of the staff weapon to yank it
from the guard and turn the tables on his captor. But the Jaffa's grip
was strong and he quickly fired an energy bolt, blasting the Colonel
directly in the hand.

Overcome by the searing pain in his fingers, Jack peered at the mangled,
burning mass at the end of his right wrist with a numb detachment,
feeling his consciousness slowly being dragged away from him.

The last thing he saw was a new family, made up of former members of his
own, leaving the tomb in a regal procession. Darkness and grim silence
returned to the stone walled prison as Jack slipped deeply away,
wondering vaguely why the rest of his team had been unable to help him.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was the middle of the night, Egyptian time, when Daniel Jackson's
laptop computer began to sound a warning for receipt of new mail, waking
him from a fitful doze. He had left it logged onto his server for
several hours, regardless of the telephone cost.

Janet was already moving, years of practising medicine having
conditioned her to respond instantly to any sudden beeping noise. She
sat on the edge of the bed and watched the young man open the message
from Sam, reading its grim contents over his shoulder.

"Looks like we're on our own, then," Janet concluded despondently,
thinking for a long moment about how they might obtain entry to the
pyramid. "Can we get in as tourists?"

"Kheops Pyramid isn't open to the public at the moment," Daniel told
her.

"Then what about this Cairo mafia bunch? I heard they'd sell their own
grandmother for the right price," Janet suggested.

"That's true, but the trouble is nothing happens around here without
them knowing about it. We have to assume they know what's going on
inside already. It would be difficult not to arouse their suspicions,"
he explained with a grimace.

"Daniel, I think that's a risk we're going to have to take," the doctor
urged gently. "What time does the museum open?" She added, eager to
examine the layout of their objective.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dmitri Alesandrov was famished, he had been waiting throughout the
night, with an increasing degree of frustration and could no longer put
up with the sound of the Colonel's incomprehensible screams in that
confined tomb. The second dose, it seemed, had dragged him down so deep,
that he was still far within its grasp, such that the Russian had
decided there was no great risk in taking a well deserved break. He had
ordered the two Egyptians to stand guard above, resealing the tomb to
leave the Colonel in impenetrable darkness.

Alesandrov headed up to the makeshift bunk room to get some food and
coffee, perching on a storage chest to eat his meal with as much decorum
as he could muster. He was surprised by the appearance of one of his
men, a guard he had left stationed in the passage leading from the boat
museum.

"Just received an urgent message from Mr Marshall, Sir," the man
reported in Egyptian, "He wants you to meet him up on the plateau in one
hour."

The Russian frowned, wondering what the inexperienced American was
panicking about this time. Still he could use some air and the excuse
for an extended break from his trials and tribulations with the
irritating Colonel. He let the guard return to his post and settled down
to enjoy his breakfast at leisure before heading outside to await the
Embassy vehicle.

When the dusty four wheel drive drew up, Marshall opened the front
passenger door and told him to get in. Continuing on past the pyramids,
towards a more isolated back road, he parked on the verge to explain his
unscheduled appearance.

"I've got a gift for you," the American pointed to the back seat,
smirking at the confusion on Dmitri's face when he saw a terrified young
girl, gagged and bound, squirming on the leather upholstery.

"I do not understand," the Russian stated needlessly.

"The Egyptian authorities caught her trying to enter the country this
morning, without a visa," the younger man grinned smugly. "Turns out she
came to see Jack O'Neill! I figure she must mean a lot to him if she
flew all this way alone just to find him! Thought you might be able to
use the leverage!"

Dmitri Alesandrov smiled his understanding, sometimes his charming
colleague could be even more venal than he was.

~~~~~~~~~~

Back to top

Previous Page