The breakfast that he was forced to attend was a strictly political affair. Now that the election was over and the vote had gone his way, Kinsey didn't have to go to every gathering that he was invited to – he didn't have to kiss up to people now, and had no intention of doing it – but he was greasy politician enough to know that he still had to go to the ones that the more powerful people in the private sector invited him to. This was one of those occasions. More of a chance for some heavy financial backers to showcase their winning racehorse than actual get together, but it was one he couldn't get out of attending.

He showed up with an escort of Secret Service and a small contingent of Military Brass and was met by another contingent – including Colonel Nick Stanton, the man who'd been too afraid of O'Neill to try and help Kinsey get even with him. Kinsey's smile was positively predatory when Stanton came over about midway through the event. He showed him, didn't he? He had O'Neill's boy, and there was no way that the bastard was going to get him back without a lot of squirming. It was really too bad that Kinsey had to stay behind the scenes, because he would have loved to have Jack O'Neill on his knees in front of him, begging for his son's life.

That thought was so pleasant that his smile actually broadened as Stanton drew up beside him. He was so caught up in the imagery that he didn't even notice the troubled look on Stanton's face.

"Bob, I need to talk to you."

Kinsey was in such a good mood, he didn't even mind being called Bob.

"I'm right here." He waved expansively.

"No... alone."

Noticing, now, that he wasn't pleased about something – and assuming he was going to apologize for being such a piss-ant baby about the whole O'Neill affair – Kinsey nodded, and allowed himself to be guided to a private corner of the room. He waved away the Secret Service man that was going to be responsible for shadowing him for the next four years – sixteen years, if Kinsey had anything to say about it – and waited until they were alone. As alone as you could get in a crowded room.

"What is it, Nick?"

"You've got a problem."

Kinsey shook his head.

"No, not at all. Everything is perfect."

"Bob... I heard that a few cadets from the Air Force academy came up missing from their beds last night."

Kinsey pretended to look shocked and dismayed.

"Really?"

"It's not funny, you stupid bastard." Stanton hissed. "You don't know what you've done."

"Who says I did anything?" Kinsey asked. "I was in my hotel room, surrounded by alibis all night – and then I was sleeping. I didn't leave – the security cameras can verify that."

Stanton shook his head.

"Do you know who Nathan Brooks is?"

"No, should I?"

"Let me ask it another way. Do you know who Major General Nathan Brooks is?"

Kinsey shook his head, irritated.

"No. Obviously he's some sort of chair warmer for the Military. I don't make acquaintances with that type – present company excluded, of course. Why the hell would I care who he is?"

"He's not a chair warmer, Bob. He's a retired General from the Air Force – a retired Special Operations man who has a ton of clout and as vicious a temper as I've ever heard of – except maybe Colonel O'Neill's."

"So?"

"His son is in the Air Force academy."

"And...?"

"Is one of Shawn Adams' roommates..."

"What?"

Kinsey said this so loud that several people in the area turned and looked at him. He gave them an uneasy, greasy smile, and waited for them to turn away.

"What are you saying?" He hissed.

"The Commandant of the Air Force academy is a long-time friend of General Brooks'. As soon as he realized his son was one of the missing cadets, he contacted the father – who in turn has already started making inquiries. Which is how I found out about it."

"What?"

Kinsey's gleeful face was now pale and afraid. But only for a moment. Then his arrogant posture was back.

"What do I care about some has-been special forces General? I'm the Vice President of the United States, for Christ's sake. He can't touch me." No more than Jack O'Neill could.

"Whatever you have planned, Bob, you need to stop it, immediately. Brooks is dangerous – and add him to Colonel O'Neill, and you'll be lucky if you come out of this with your life, much less your empty title."

Kinsey was thinking fast, despite his bravado. Yeah, he had O'Neill's son – and apparently some other guy's son – some guy who was going to maybe, just maybe, be able to cause him problems. What should he do? Fucking Clay! This was all his fault! If he'd only brought in Adams like he was supposed to...

Stanton shrugged, knowing that Kinsey wasn't going to be swayed by anything else he said. He'd delivered his warning; that was all he could do.

"Good luck, Bob." He murmured, almost meaning it. Then he walked away. When the shit hit this fan it was going to splatter in a million miles to all directions, and never in his life had Nicholas Stanton been so relieved that he wasn't involved.

OOOOOOOOO

"You know, kid, you're not involved in this..."

Ian was alone in the basement with his charge while Jack and Teal'c and the dogs were upstairs looking through the safe-house, making sure they knew how many entrances there were, and what sort of security there was. The cadet glowered at the Major, his dark eyes burning with hate. Especially at being called a kid. God he hated it when people did that. He was nineteen for shit's sake! He wasn't a kid anymore.

"You could just put the gun down and leave..." Major Clay said. "Save yourself the chance of getting hurt when Kinsey brings his backup in and the guns start blazing."

"Kinsey's a piece of shit," Ian said, defiantly. "The only guns that follow him are carried by other pieces of shit. Like you and your top commando unit." This last was said so sarcastically that Clay frowned; his pride unable to take that kind of stinging phrase – even coming from some snot nosed kid who wouldn't know a real special forces operative if he snuck up and stuck a knife in his back.

"What do you know about it, kid?" He asked, sneering. "They teaching you all about top commando units in that Academy? Teaching how to sneak around in the brush and kill the enemy-"

"They teach us about honor, you sack of shit. Now shut the fuck up before I see if I can shoot you without killing you."

Ian wasn't close to the cell – Colonel O'Neill had warned him not to get within arm's reach, and Ian had understood the reasoning behind it. As much as he wanted to unlock the door and beat the shit out of the Major, there was no way he was going to.

"You fucking little bastard..." Clay's temper snapped. It was amazing how the little punk had the ability to piss him off so easily. "Put that gun down and I'll show you-"

"Shut up, Major." Ian cocked the Glock, his eyes telling Clay that he was more than capable of seeing if a shoulder wound or a bullet in the thigh or someplace like that would kill someone. "They haven't taught us marksmanship, yet. I'd hate to kill you and piss off Colonel O'Neill."