Major Davis was all too eager to when he learned Jack would be flying out to check on Carter, and that worried O'Neill more than anything. How Davis had found out about the trip was another matter but not one that bore much importance. There were few secrets on the inside in a tightly classified program. Hammond had approved the time off for the trip. Though he did not voice concern, it was written all over the general's face. The grim factor was beginning to add up to trouble in Jack's opinion. Grim meant bad, and bad was never good.
He considered calling Carter to let her know he was stopping by – three states away – for lunch, but that might have put some things in motion to sidetrack his purpose. No, he would pop in at Prime and check out the digs. At the very least, he would see what reaction it got from the company and some important people running it.
After a less than luxurious military flight out to Orange County, O'Neill went through the traveler's hell of picking up luggage, finding a rental car and asking for directions. Prime Power's facility, he found, was in the middle of abandoned buildings near the ocean. When he pulled into the area, he checked and rechecked the address he had gotten at the SGC for the company. To the casual eye, the dilapidated row of warehouse and factory units would have looked vacant. However, to his military eye that was trained to analyze the enemy before all else, he saw armed guards placed strategically around the complex. High-powered sniper rifles and medium range assault weapons rounded out the electronic surveillance equipment buried in the ruts of the building's façade.
He pulled the rental SUV into the drive to what he assumed was an office. He parked near the door and stepped on to the pavement. Immediately, someone appeared at the double doors.
Ah, urban assault gear - how stylish, he thought as he took in the black fatigues of the guard.
"Howdy," O'Neill called out with forced levity that always seemed to surface when he felt outnumbered.
The guy looked like a linebacker, all muscle and brawn. His tone was authoritative. "You can't park your vehicle there, sir. This is a restricted lot."
Jack approached, careful not to incite Big Boy into a confrontation. "I need to talk to someone inside."
"Did you call ahead?"
In his periphery, O'Neill could see movement on the rooftops and around corners as backup units mobilized for possible attack. "No, I didn't. I'm here to see Major Samantha Carter."
"And you are?"
"Colonel Jack O'Neill, United States Air Force."
The guard took in O'Neill's civilian dress of jeans, t-shirt and black leather jacket. "I'll need to see some identification," he said skeptically. He held out his hand.
Jack took out his wallet, mindful of the speed of his movement so as not to encourage the snipers to send a bullet his way. He handed over his military identification card.
The guard checked the picture on the card against Jack's appearance and seemed satisfied that there was a match. "Wait here."
Jack was aware of his captive audience as the guard disappeared through the double doors. He moved back toward the SUV and leaned against the hood. The California sun felt good on his face, such a contrast to the winter weather of Colorado. He stretched the taut muscles in his shoulders as he dutifully waited for the guard to return. The doors opened again, but the guard was nowhere in sight. Instead, Sam stood there, shielding her eyes against the bright light of day.
"Colonel?"
"Carter!" O'Neill called jovially. He straightened and walked to her. Aside from her concern, she looked more relaxed than the last time he had seen her. Jeans, denim shirt, work boots – she was nearly the same to him but healthier. "How the hell are ya?"
There was worry etched on her face. "I'm fine, sir," she answered, confused. "Is everything all right? Daniel, Teal'c?"
"Oh, they're just fine," he assured.
Her confusion did not lessen. "And everyone else?"
"Fine," he confirmed.
She paused briefly, trying to make sense of his sudden appearance. "And you, sir?" she asked slowly.
He took a deep breath and let it out as he answered, "I could use some lunch."
"Lunch?"
"Yeah. The commissary was getting a bit much, so I thought I'd drop by and see you, take in a few sights and grab some lunch on the way. I always wanted to see that Hollywood sign."
Her eyes were still squinting, but he could see it was not because of the bright light. The absurdity of his reason for seeing her was reflected in her words. "You flew all the way from Colorado for lunch?" Then she issued a small chuckle at the thought.
He nodded at the SUV behind him. "I rented a really cool truck. Has a CD player."
A smile was forming at his form of bribery. "Yes, sir, I can see that."
Someone emerged from the building and moved in behind Carter. O'Neill immediately recognized the woman as Rachel Dekker. She was even more stunning in person than the file photograph. She was dressed as casually as Carter, and that was something he had not expected. From Dekker's file, he thought she would be dressed to the nines every waking moment.
"Well, if it isn't the legendary Colonel Jack O'Neill," Dekker mused. "We finally meet." She put out her hand in welcome.
"And you must be Rachel Dekker," he responded, accepting the offer. Her touch was all business, no warmth to be found in the grasp. He sensed wariness on her part, an unease that was translated into her body language.
Carter's look of surprise at Jack's answer was clear. He clarified his knowledge. "I did some checking like any good ex-CO with a little database access would do."
"Of course," Rachel confirmed, though her eyes were accusing O'Neill of something entirely underhanded. "Would you like to come inside and have a cup of coffee?"
"Actually," Jack said, shoving his hands into his pockets, "I was wondering if I could borrow Major Carter for a few hours. Y'know, catch up on old times."
"Of course," Rachel said obligingly, so smoothly that it seemed anything but genuine to O'Neill. "Anything to keep you sending me business, Colonel."
"Oh, I don't think there's any danger of that not happening," he said.
"In fact, you can have her for the rest of the day. Sam knows where we stand on the project. I'll trust she can manage her time spent here using her best judgment."
The tension in the air was thick. Dekker eyed Jack with a piercing blue stare that screamed loud and clear she knew why he was there and that he was treading on her turf now, not his own SGC kingdom. At least, that was what he took it as saying. He could have been dead wrong. Maybe Rachel Dekker simply had a demonic look in her eyes for no apparent reason. Genetics were sometimes cruel to the human race. It was entirely possible that he was reading something sinister into the situation because he knew a secret.
Carter excused herself and went back inside to retrieve her jacket. He made idle chit chat with Dekker about the weather, the flight to California, and the generic comments meant to pass the time.
With no segue, Dekker stepped closer to O'Neill and said, "Hell of a long trip just for lunch, Colonel."
O'Neill kept features neutral. "Well, you know how it goes," he said casually. "Sometimes, you just need to get out and about and see the world."
"So, this has nothing to do with wooing Sam back to the SGC?"
She was tall, nearly his height. His gaze was level with hers. "I haven't 'wooed' since I was a second lieutenant. How about you?"
She smiled mischievously. "I'm in the business of supplying the military, Colonel. If I didn't kiss ass every once in a while, I'd never get a contract."
He looked over her head at the complex. He wanted ask if her knees were sore, but that would have been childish and unprofessional. Appropriate, but childish and unprofessional. "Looks like it's paying off."
"Our products speak for themselves. You, of all people, should know that."
"And you get that by surrounding yourself with the best?"
"Don't you do the same? From what I understand, you accept nothing less than the best of the best to serve under your command."
A bit of pride seeped forth in his voice, and he answered her with confidence. "That's right."
Dekker folded her arms and smirked. "Must have stung like hell to know Carter left you for Prime, then."
Anger snapped through him like a bolt of lightning. She was taunting him! She was broadcasting her contempt for him and making no effort to disguise it. He was at a severe loss for a clever retort since what Dekker had said was so true. It had stung, and it had hurt. SG1 had been through so much as a unit. Now, he was left to integrate a man he did particularly like or trust into a position Carter had fulfilled beyond the call of duty.
"Carter feels it was a good move for her," he said finally.
"Ah," she said, as though the answer was perfectly solid. The smirk returned, though, and it spoke volumes as she chalked one up for Prime's team.
He was never so glad to see Sam as when she emerged from the lobby of the building, jacket in hand. She was walking quickly, and O'Neill sensed urgency on her part to separate him from the conversation with Dekker. "You ready, sir?"
"Oh yeah," he said strongly, equally eager to escape Dekker's prying.
Jack turned and headed for the car. Carter lingered and murmured some perfunctory goodbye words and a few gestures. Then she joined him and they were on the road, headed toward Van Nuys.
They drove in silence until they had left the facility grounds. Then Sam said, "So, what's going on, Colonel?"
He kept his eyes on the road. "Nothing. What – a former CO can't come visit his former 2IC and see how things are going?"
"No," she said. A sharpness that seemed foreign seeped in to her voice. "If something is going on, just tell me."
He had been thinking all morning during the flight as to how to casually bring up the topic of Prime and Dekker and all the misgivings the SGC had about the entire ball of wax. None of the methods could have been considered winners, and he still felt at a total loss for tactics. He decided to simply put the issue on the table as she had requested.
"The Pentagon is having a problem with Prime Power. You," he said specifically, "are having a problem with Prime Power, but you just don't know it yet."
To his relief, her reaction was slightly incredulous but controlled. He half-expected her to explode at the accusation. "I am?"
"A few weeks before you left the SGC, someone pulled your records."
"What kind of records?"
"Service, medical and psych – the whole nine yards. The Pentagon is pretty sure it was someone at Prime."
"That's virtually impossible. Those records are sealed."
"Which is why Major Davis and company are leaning toward Prime as the culprit. They're coming up with squat for suspects except for the place that just so happens to hire you a month after you leave the SGC."
"And the concern is what?"
He rolled down the window to let the warm air blow through the car. "You tell me, Carter, because I'm having a hell of a time coming up with a reason Prime Power would want to know about every hangnail you ever had."
Carter paused. He could see the shock lingering on her face. "I can't answer that, sir. I'm working on the new MALP. That's it."
"We have to figure this out, Sam. The Pentagon isn't going to let it go if they think something's wrong. I don't want to see you going down for something you didn't do."
"Wait a minute," she interrupted, alarmed, "exactly what are we talking about? Who's going down for what?"
She had asked, he told himself. She wanted him to be blunt, so he was going to do just that. "They're thinking it's not a coincidence that Prime is getting all the contracts. They know there's a leak, and they don't care how it gets plugged as long as it goes away. If that means taking down the Prime empire, then that's what they'll do. If you're on the boat when that happens, you're going to sink right with them. The Pentagon is willing to sacrifice you to keep the program intact."
Carter wagged her head in disbelief. "I can't believe Prime would be ripped from the loop, sir. Their systems are too integrated in SGC operations. If we pulled the plug on them, we'd lose their research support on the equipment."
"They'll risk that to maintain the secrecy of the SGC."
"What's to say Prime wouldn't reveal it out of spite if they were dropped?"
Jack was silent for a moment, trying to tactfully phrase his response. "Let's just say those involved would be handled."
It took a beat for his meaning to sink in, but when she understood, she said, "You've got to be kidding."
"No, I'm not. Those rules apply for any civilian contractor working with the SGC. You know that."
"And you agree with it?" she argued.
"I didn't say that, but there's too much at stake to have some corporation yapping its gums over classified operations." He thought about it for a second and added, "So, yeah, I guess you could say I agree with it."
Sam sank back in to the passenger seat and looked out at the road, pondering his words. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I don't want to see you get a target painted on your back."
"No, sir, why are you telling me this? What am I supposed to do with everything you just gave me?"
O'Neill felt frustrated with her question, and it showed in his heavy sigh. "I think it's pretty apparent what you're supposed to do, Carter. The Pentagon can't slip anyone to the inside of Prime because Dekker's got the hiring thing wound so tight. You're already there. They want to know what you know."
"I don't know anything!" she exclaimed, throwing her hand forward in exasperation. Her embarrassment at the outburst made her slouch down even further into the seat. In a calmer but still bothered voice, she said, "Sir, I work on the MALP. That's it. I mean, what do they think I'm doing there – balancing the books?"
"It's not what they think, Carter, it's what they know. They know you're the only person they've got on the inside who can give them a clue where Prime is headed."
"And where do they think that is? That's the one thing I haven't heard you mention so far, sir. You're asking me to report on Prime, but you haven't told me why."
"I'm not even sure the Pentagon knows," he admitted. "All they know for sure is that your classified records were accessed by someone at Prime, and you just so happen to be employed there a few weeks later. Don't you find that a little strange?"
Sam rested her elbow on the doorframe and cradled her forehead in her hand. "Okay, I'll admit it's strange, and I won't even mention the illegality of them pulling classified service records; but you don't even know what it is they might be doing. I'm sorry, sir, but that's not exactly the ideal springboard for me to start looking."
"I'm not asking you to launch an investigation, Carter. I just want you to keep your eyes open. Prime is scheduled to test the MALP in a few weeks. If nothing happens, nothing happens. I'll go to Hammond, myself, and tell him the Pentagon should lay off Prime and you and whoever else."
"And if something does happen?"
O'Neill glanced at her matter-of-factly. "Prime Power and Rachel Dekker are in a lot of trouble."