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Catherine Langford's Home, Martha's Vineyard, Virginia
The slight woman who less than twenty-four hours before had been sitting patiently in the dimly lit Maison de la Fleur now sat patiently, in the same black tailored suit, in the rosy pink sunroom of Catherine Langford and her spouse, former Professor Ernest Littlefield. Her fingernails, polished clear and filed into short, round ovals, lightly tapped at the arm of the plush sofa, covered in blooming irises, daisies and rosebuds. Temporarily, she was alone, her hostess having gone off to the kitchen to see to refreshment after a series of introductions.
She hadn't known what to expect; in fact, she hadn't even known that Langford had had children before his wife's untimely demise. Langford himself seemed to be primed to a lengthy and successful career that was abruptly cut short; he had never returned to Egypt and had dropped out of archaeology altogether, affected by grief.
Catherine Langford was undisputedly his child- her hallways were filled with faded photographs of her father at dig sites, the history of each she had learned before she was ceremoniously deposited in her current seat. And if that was so, she was the only living person, outside of nameless Egyptian workers, who remembered what happened at Giza in the winter season of 1928
Her ruminations broke off as she heard approaching footsteps. "Dr. Langford-"
"Catherine, please," the old woman said with a smile, re-entering the room. "I've just put the kettle on. It'll be a few minutes."
"Dr. Langford, I thought you might be able to shed some light on your father's work, particularly in the late 20s after your photographs in the hall were taken, that is."
"Oh, I was only a little girl then! I doubt I'd be much help," she demurred, settling down in her chair.
Dr. Effington narrowed her eyes at her. The old woman was a shrewd liar, she'd give her that. She smiled and countered in the same light tone, "But surely, you must remember something of interest? Some of the people your parents worked with?"
"I remember William Emery very well" she began and told of a very silly encounter she had had with the preeminent archaeologist several years earlier when she had been preoccupied with his youthful good looks while her father had checked up on Mond's progress at the Theban site. Dr. Effington smiled and nodded and laughed in all the right places, waiting very patiently for her to finish.
Catherine timed the ending of her story perfectly. Just as Emery had fallen into the grave shaft due to an over-exuberant and slightly jealous child's push from behind, the tea kettle's high pitch sounded from the kitchen. She left her guest chuckling and returned to the room with a tray with two cups of tea.
"Thank you. But what of the professionals specifically at Giza in 1928? It would have only been your second dig. Are you sure you don't remember a fellow German, a Herr Doktor Gunter Baegundorff?"
"No, it doesn't-"
"He might have known your mother well- fellow Germans at the dig site and all. He is said to have been greatly affected at her funeral," Effington interjected softly, gently prodding.
"An old woman's memory," Catherine said stubbornly, reseating herself, "is a precarious thing."
Dr. Effington nodded sipping her tea, considering other tactics. She gestured at the other woman's pendant. "That's a very unique necklace you wear."
"I've had it for ages."
"A present from your father, from one of his digs perhaps?"
"Yes. In fact, he dug it up that season, I think."
"How nice. Did he find anything else with it? A gold pendant, even at Giza, all by itself, has to be an anomaly."
"Yes, well"
"It's hard to recall," Dr. Effington finished for her. She turned to her leather oversized handbag and pulled out a manila folder. "Maybe this might refresh your memory," she said, handing over a xerox of a single book page.
Catherine's hand shook as she looked at the illustration on the page. "Where did you get this?" she asked, finally.
"Baegundorff included it within his memoirs. He said an American had dug it up during the winter season of 1928. Aside from your father, there was only one other American archaeologist present- Friedman-"
"And he didn't live to see 1929," confirmed Dr. Langford. "Yes. A big, jolly sort of man, I remember him. Did Dr. Baegundorff say anything about this object?"
"He believed it to be a circular pylon. He didn't know its function, but the natives called it a sebah ny pet- a Doorway to Heaven. Apparently, after spending only a week with it at the site, the pylon disappeared. He was severely disappointed, for as he says, the pylon was constructed out of what he believed was a rare metal, a biah ny biahw, and he never had a chance to fully study it."
"Dr. Effington I'm tired. I think you should leave now."
"Dr. Langford, I apologize if I've said--" she began insincerely, desperation beginning to appear in her tone.
Catherine handed back the page. "I'm afraid I can't tell you anymore," she said coldly.
"I'll just show myself out. I'd thank you, Dr. Langford, if I believed you."
After the woman had left, Ernest entered the room. "How was your meeting?" he asked, kissing her on the cheek. "Imagine that- scholars now dropping in on Sundays! It was a very kind gesture you made, dear, to that impertinent young lady. In our day, I doubt we would have been so bold. Hmm. Did it go well?"
She didn't move from the chair.
"Catherine, what's wrong?"
"I need to call General Hammond. Someone else knows about Stargate."
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Jack's cell phone vibrated the minute he cleared the mountain. As he saw Daniel's number flash, he cursed aloud.
No television watching today.
After taking a deep, cleansing breath, in and out, and forcing all homicidal thoughts to the back of his mind, he answered the phone. "Daniel. What's up?"
"She's gone," Daniel said breathlessly, his phone sandwiched between his ear and his shoulder as he struggled to open the door to his car. "Checked out last night. The bell-hop remembered her- said she took a shuttle to the airport."
"Guess she saw ya coming."
"Jack, I don't think she ever intended to stay- according to the concierge, she only booked for the one night." Opening the door, he sat down heavily in the driver's seat. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed heavily into the phone. "What do we do now?"
"Beats the hell outta me," the Colonel replied dispiritedly, looking around the empty parking lot idly. After hanging up on Daniel with some choice words and a suggestion to get back to the SGC pronto, he noticed a sprinting airman headed in his direction.
"Colonel O'Neill! Sir!"
"Yeah?" He waited impatiently as the young officer struggled to catch his breath.
"General Hammond on the phone, sir," he gasped, pointing to his security hutch.
Picking up the phone, he shot a glance at the officer's open copy of Celebrity Skin and as the airman flushed, spoke loudly into the receiver. "O'Neill here. Bad news, sir. Daniel says the lady has flown to points unknown," he finished with a slight turn of his lips.
"Colonel, I just received a phone call from Dr. Langford."
"As in Catherine Langford?"
"The same. Apparently, Dr. Effington just paid her a visit. She knows about the Stargate."
"What? How? Did Daniel?"
"As far as I know, Colonel, she figured this out entirely on her own. I have orders to have you escort this doctor from her current location to the base for further investigation. We're going to keep in touch with Dr. Langford and hopefully we'll be able to stay on top of her further movements. Take Dr. Jackson with you, he may be able to smooth things over with his colleague."
"Yes, sir." He hung up the phone and the airman, who had returned to surreptitiously reading his magazine, stood up abruptly.
"All finished, sir?"
"Yep. All done. That's a great issue, by the way," he said with a smirk. "Very intriguing news this month." With the airman stuttering, Jack left the hutch, himself temporarily distracted by the memory of a small paragraph on Mary Steenburgen.
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To be continued
