28: Contractors

It was late in the evening when Holt reported in for work at the NID headquarters, counting on it being a quiet night in the office. Being a Saturday, very few people were present, but also being an intelligence agency, the building was never empty. Every so often, Holt would work a weekend to catch up on any reports and such, although it was for a very different reason that he came in this time around. Malcolm Barrett, Assistant Director and immediate subordinate to Holt himself, had checked in today with what was likely the expected intention of catching up on work he may have fallen behind on. Holt found the man in his office, working late into what would otherwise have been a night off for many. He had a half-eaten cheeseburger on a plate in front of him, a can of cola next to it. Dinner, no less, and Barrett's eyes were fixed upon his laptop computer's screen.

"Barrett?" Holt stopped before his desk, getting the man's attention. He offered Holt a slightly cocked eyebrow, curious as to what had brought the Deputy Director into the office this evening. Barrett knew Holt well enough to know that the man valued his free time, so a late evening visit was a rarity where he was concerned.

"What brings you here, Holt?" Barrett refrained from referring to him as 'sir', if only to annoy him. Holt narrowed his eyes, taking a moment to think over just how to go about what he intended. He was not here on NID business, not really. He was here on his own business, and he had a feeling that Barrett would not appreciate the 'business' in question.

"Oh, you know, I have to catch up on some work. Tie up some loose ends." Holt gave the man the slightest hint of a smile. "I've been out and about a lot the past week, and that's really put a crimp in my usual workload. The reports are piling up, quite literally. Not everything is digital, after all."

"I prefer hard, physical work myself," Barrett said, somewhat jokingly. Behind him, the curtains were drawn over the view of the street outside, the glow from the streetlights below presenting a blue-tinted hue upon the curtains themselves. Somewhere distant, a police siren could be heard, wailing into nothing as the source travelled towards the outlying Washington DC suburbs. Holt would prefer to be anyone but here in the office at this hour, but duty called.

"I heard there was a commotion here earlier today?" Holt asked. Barrett nodded in the affirmative.

"A fire alarm. Nothing serious. Looks like it might have been a glitch. Probably a rat or something chewing on the wiring."

"Is that so?" Holt did not bother to hide his disbelief. Barrett noticed the look he gave, and immediately he took on a more guarded demeanour. "A glitch that also took out the surveillance up on level four?"

"These things happen, Holt. Technology isn't all that reliable."

"Yes, that is true. The more complicated it gets, the more likely it is to stuff up. That's a given. Still, for a false fire alarm and an entire floor of surveillance cameras to glitch all at once, that is very strange. Almost as if it was the work of a saboteur."

"Saboteur?" Barrett let out an amused huff. "You can't be serious. Who would do it? If someone snuck in here, there is a lot they could do beyond messing with our cameras."

"Perhaps they were after state secrets?" Holt was only toying with him now. He felt that Barrett likely knew this, and so played along in turn. Neither man was willing to tip their hand, yet it was apparent that they both knew more than they were letting on. A delicate game, although Holt was sure he had his side of it firmly in the bag.

"Plenty of those in here, but they're all under heavy security. What happened today only disrupted one floor of security cameras, as you've said. Nothing was hacked."

"Wasn't it?" Holt took a step closer to Barrett's desk, and his eyes met with the man's own. They remained firm, unperturbed; in turn, Holt's own gaze was much the same. However, what Barrett did not know was that Holt held much of the cards here and did not even know it. Sure, Barrett would certainly have his suspicions about Holt, but he lacked any real solid information as to the kind of power a man such as Holt wielded. It had taken some doing over the years, hard work and connections made that had placed Holt in the direct employ of some very powerful people. And those people had a long reach and bottomless pockets. Holt could essentially do whatever he wanted, and that was where Barrett's own information fell short. Where Barrett believed he was dealing with a shady 'black ops' sort (and he at least was partially correct), he had no idea as to the resources that 'shady' sort had at his disposal.

"Someone meddled with my computer, Barrett." Holt took a few steps off to his left, gaze searching Barrett for any sign of guilt. "And that someone was assisted by someone else, a snake in our midst, a Judas even, providing access to what should be one of the most secure buildings in the country."

Barrett's demeanour shifted into something noticeably tense then, suggesting that he was ready to spring into action. A sign of guilt? Holt took it as much, not that it mattered. He had come in here certain of Barrett's involvement in the incident today. This back-and-forth was simply for his own enjoyment.

"What's your game, Holt?" Barrett asked him.

"This is no game, Barrett," Holt countered, his tone sharp. "This is real life; this is a real plan your meddling has potentially disrupted. When my superiors learn of what has occurred, they will want it dealt with as directly as possible. I'm simply taking the initiative now. My people are already on their way to find Doctor Jackson."

"Who are you, really?" Now Barrett dropped all pretence. He rose from his chair slowly, putting his own gaze level with Holt's.

"My name is Conrad Holt, if that's what you're wondering," he stated, with a hint of a smile. "It's who I work for who you should be most concerned with. Imagine, if you will, an authority beyond any government anywhere in the world. An authority beyond even the international banks and multinational entities such as the United Nations or any billion-dollar corporation. I work for the guiding hand, have done so for many years." He allowed these words and their full implication to sink in, and he took some glee in the way Barrett's eyes slowly widened with the realisation.

"The Circle of Seven, or so that is one name they go by. Think 'Illuminati', but a step above," Holt continued. "And with the power they grant me, I can use whatever means necessary to remove any potential threat to their plans. They are the 'they' the conspiracy theorists like to speak about. They work for our greater good, of course. And they have men such as myself in place to do whatever necessary to protect that greater good."

It was a subtle gesture, but the small, wave-like movement Holt did with his right hand was signal enough for the two men he had waiting outside the office. The doors swung open immediately, and one of the grey-suited men stepped inside with a pistol raised and suppressor attached to the end of the barrel. Before Barrett could react in any way, the gun fired, the noise coming out as little more than a faint cough that was followed by the even fainter click of the action sliding back, the next round being chambered and the spent casing of the fired one landing upon the floor. Barrett fell backwards, blood splattering across the grey curtains behind him, eyes wide and vacant as a chunk at the back of his skull erupted. He stumbled back into his chair, landing in a manner that would have almost suggested that nothing was amiss. The blood sort of spoiled that illusion, as did the lifeless eyes.

"Clean this up," Holt ordered the two men who had entered the office. He motioned to the blood-stained curtains. "And replace those." As the two men went to work, Holt reached down and picked up the name plaque that had been sitting at the front of the desk. He examined it for a moment, scratched at his chin thoughtfully, and then slipped it into his jacket. In a few hours, this office would be empty and it would appear as if Malcolm Barrett had never been here. Officially, he would go on an extended holiday to the Bahamas. There, he would suffer an unfortunate boating accident. Months from now, what little remained of him would wash up on the shore of some poor Caribbean Island, tattered and chewed up by various marine life. Just another adventurous tourist lost to an exotic locale.


Morning came upon Daniel suddenly, or at the very least it felt as much for him. He had laid back on a bed in the motel room, mind wandering as it so often did. Outside, he had heard the distant hum of an airplane flying up high, some small passenger plane at that judging by the sound of it. Relaxed, he allowed his eyes to close and the world around him seemed to dim for what felt like a second, before he opened them again to find sunlight streaming in through the nearby window. It had gone from twelve o'clock midnight to eight o'clock in the morning in what had quite literally been a blink of the eye. And, to make the situation even more odd, he could hear a passenger plane buzzing up high outside.

Damn, he had been tired. Sitting up, he slid his legs over the edge of the bed. He saw McKay seated at the table in the kitchenette nearby. He looked a little more dishevelled than he had yesterday, with heavy bags under his eyes. Those eyes were struggling to stay open. Had he even slept at all? Daniel hoped he had caught some amount of sleep. McKay was in a sorry state, after everything he had been through the past seven years. There was no doubt in Daniel's mind that what had happened to him was legitimate, that his claims of being hunted by shady government types were not the ravings of a madman. They now had something to prove that, even if Holt's correspondences had not granted them the kind of leads they had been hoping for.

"Rodney?" Daniel stood up, stretched his arms and legs and then slipped on his shoes. Teal'c was still asleep on the other bed, lying back with his hands on his chest. He looked very relaxed, even if his pose was more akin to a dead body in an open casket funeral than someone who was simply asleep.

"Did you sleep at all last night?" Daniel asked him. He stopped by the table, glancing over McKay's shoulder to the laptop screen. He had one of Holt's emails open, although it appeared to be little more than a reminder from the man's doctor about an appointment coming up in a few days. It seemed that Holt was having blood pressure problems.

"A little," McKay answered. He looked up at Daniel, giving him a half-hearted smile. "I've just been going through everything. I've got plenty of politicians implicated in vague dealings, but nothing solid. Nothing that will help us. Nothing that will help me." His voice increased a little in pitch when he said this last part. Daniel wondered if he had made a mistake, dragging McKay back out into the world so suddenly. He kept wondering this, every time he looked at the physicist. It was staggering how much someone could change over the years, and in McKay's case, the change had been significant and not for the better.

"We'll find something, I'm sure of it."

"You can say that, but that doesn't mean it's going to happen." McKay rubbed at his eyes. He had a pair of glasses tucked into a pocket on his shirt, and Daniel realised that he had not even noticed that McKay had taken to using spectacles. Another reminder of how much older they all were, a sobering thought if there ever was one.

"Optimism, Rodney. I know it's not your strong suit."

"I'm a scientist, Daniel. I deal in facts. Optimism isn't normally based in facts." McKay rose from his chair, appearing a little unsteady on his feet as he did so. Nonetheless, he gained his balance and looked about the otherwise bare kitchen and dining area. In the case of this motel room, that 'area' equated to a kitchen bench, a refrigerator, a microwave on that bench and a single table with two chairs at either side of it.

"You got anything to eat?" McKay, it appeared, was more concerned with his stomach than anything else. Not surprising, where he was concerned.

"No, actually." Daniel realised then that they had neglected to buy anything to eat in the morning. Dinner had been one thing, but breakfast? It had slipped Daniel's mind entirely.

"Is there anything around here?"

"I saw a vending machine down near the office." Daniel fished a five dollar note out of his jacket and handed it to McKay. "Here, get yourself something. We'll buy a proper breakfast when we're ready to go."

McKay took the money, content to have a chocolate bar for breakfast. He started for the door, only to be stopped by Teal'c's voice.

"Doctor McKay, do you not wish for me to accompany you?" Teal'c was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking refreshed after the four hours sleep he had managed. McKay, standing before the door, looked back at Teal'c and, after a pause, shook his head.

"It's just down the way," he said, nodding to his right. "I won't be long."

"Very well."

"Anything happens, yell out." Daniel supposed he need not have worried about McKay keeping quiet if met with trouble. He knew from experience that McKay was very good at making a lot of noise, especially if his life was in danger.

McKay opened the door and left the room, starting down the walkway outside and towards the stairwell at the far end. Daniel turned to Teal'c, who had started for the bathroom.

"You think we made a mistake?" He asked the Jaffa, who stopped partway to the bathroom door and turned to him.

"In what way, Daniel Jackson?"

"In bringing Rodney out of seclusion. Something's going on with him, in his head. We can't be helping that by dragging him across the country."

Teal'c appeared to consider this a moment, before he gave an affirmative nod.

"Indeed, you may be partially correct. However, bringing him back into the world may, in fact, do him some good."

"I don't know, Teal'c. I feel like he's walking a knife's edge. I've never seen him like this."

Teal'c did not say anything in reply. What could he say? They both had similar feelings on the matter. Teal'c, naturally, was much better at keeping them concealed.


McKay was not feeling terribly stressed at the moment, and in fact he was in somewhat better spirits despite the minimum of sleep he had received during the night. Out in the world once again, he found that the change of scenery had helped him get a better grip on his often tumultuous thoughts, and with a newfound purpose he had something to focus on, in this case determining the exact nature of Holt and his cohorts. Their plans were no doubt nefarious, and if he could bring them down then he could find out who had been responsible for Jennifer Keller's death. He would do it for her, not for Daniel or anyone else; it was his way of committing wholeheartedly to the task, of ensuring his full attention was granted it and nothing else.

He strolled along the upper walkway and down the stairs at the far end, which put him a short distance from the office. It was a cool morning out, and the street beyond the motel was quiet, the passing traffic minimal. There was little across the street other than a gas station and a few modest houses, none of which looked especially active. McKay was alone in the motel parking area, headed to the trio of vending machines at the wall not far from the office. One of them contained a wide selection of chocolate bars, and it was to this one McKay went. With five dollars in hand, he would be sure to pick the biggest one on offer, and he stopped before the glass face to properly observe the options within. Whilst he was deciding, he did not hear the footsteps approaching from nearby, not until the last second when their sources were upon him.

Strong arms grabbed his own, one man to either side of him. McKay, having been about to slide the five dollar bill into the slot on the machine, let out a startled yelp as the two grabbed him. One was a man in a grey suit, black hair short and his eyes concealed under a pair of sunglasses. The other was a woman of about thirty, dressed in similar business attire, her features set in an expression that was both pure intent and barely concealed malice. It was the man who threw him up against the nearest wall, pinning up there whilst one gloved hand went over his mouth.

"You make a noise, you die." The man's tone was clipped, succinct. There was to be no arguing here. The woman looked about carefully, and her gaze went over to the matte black Escalade parked nearby. There was another anonymous heavy there, well-dressed and with gloved hands, as if to prevent leaving any fingerprints. The woman seemed to be in charge, and she shot a look down the length of the motel building before she gave a nod.

"Take him." She gestured towards the parked SUV. McKay, heart thumping in his chest, found the man's grip on him to be strong but, perhaps, not strong enough. In a fit of pure adrenaline, he squirmed his face out from underneath the gloved hand, his own pushing the man's arm away from him just enough.

"Daniel!" He screamed the name at the top of his lungs. He was not a religious man, but even now he hoped to God that someone, especially Daniel, heard him.

"Keep him quiet!" The woman snapped. McKay heard a door open somewhere nearby. It was the door into the office, and the elderly owner of the motel stepped out, no doubt looking for the source of the disturbance. The woman had a gun out in a second, a pistol fitted with a suppressor. She did not even offer the old timer a second glance and instead shot him without a thought, putting the round through his chest and sending him falling upon the curb, blood spilling out of him.

"Rodney?" Daniel's voice. He had emerged from the motel room, on the upper floor. Further down by several rooms, Daniel appeared at the railing at the edge of the landing, leaning over to try and get a glimpse of McKay. The man standing by the SUV had his own gun out then, and this one was not silenced. The shots thundered across the parking lot, the rapid and sharp cracks enough to wake the neighbours. Daniel threw himself to the floor as the bullets clipped the railing and a window behind him shattered.

The man holding McKay was distracted. He had his own gun out, and whilst his attention shifted to the building chaos nearby, McKay seized his chance and thrust a knee into the man's groin. He grunted, pain lancing through him, and McKay was finally able to free himself from the man's grasp. Running for it, he darted away from the car park and instead threw himself into the lane that ran alongside the office and between the main building. A gun fired behind him as the thug he had struck recovered enough to pull his gun, but McKay had launched himself around the corner by then, the couple of bullets striking the end of the brick wall as he disappeared around it.

"Teal'c!" Daniel shouted over the din of the gunfire. By now, the woman in charge of the anonymous trio was racing for the car. Her cohort there provided cover fire, pausing briefly as he went to reload his now empty gun. Several bullet holes had been put into the wall above and behind Daniel, and the motel room window had been shattered into a hundred pieces.

As called for, Teal'c appeared, striding out of the motel room with a 9mm SIG pistol in his hand. Raised and aiming down the sights, he one-handed it as he set his aim upon the one by the SUV. Three gunshots rang out, one window on the car blowing inwards whilst the other two rounds hit the thug in the chest. He fell back against the car, landing in a heap upon the asphalt underfoot. The woman turned to raise her gun, only for Teal'c to shoot her in the stomach. She went down, emitting a pained shout as she fell, blood streaming down the front of her attire.

Daniel rose to his feet and started running for the stairs. McKay was in trouble, and even unarmed Daniel intended to rescue him. There were three of those goons down there, with one left standing for the time being.

"Teal'c, come on!" Daniel called for the Jaffa to follow and he did so. Daniel hurried down the stairs, catching a glimpse of the third man just up ahead. A gun fired and Daniel threw himself behind a concrete column to his left, a chunk exploding from it as the round landed. Teal'c came down the stairs with his gun raised, and as the third man turned to attempt a getaway, Teal'c blasted him. He sent the anonymous thug reeling forwards, half-twisting with each bullet that tore through him, convulsions following before he landed in a heap in the middle of the parking lot. As suddenly as the chaos had started, it had stopped. An uneasy silence fell upon the scene suddenly, with Daniel feeling a little out of breath.

He turned to Teal'c, who had stopped at the edge of the curb where the footpath ended and the parking lot began.

"Thanks," he said to the Jaffa. Teal'c gave him a nod. Daniel did not loiter, leaving Teal'c to keep an eye out before he started looking for McKay. He found the physicist at the rear of the office, practically cowering behind a dumpster. As Daniel appeared before him, McKay's eyes lit up.

"Come on," he told McKay, offering him a hand. "Looks like they're all taken care of."

McKay still appeared a little uncertain, but otherwise rose to his feet and followed Daniel back to the parking lot. The noise had already drawn the attention of some of those also staying at the motel, and Daniel saw a good half dozen people scattered about the landing, peering over it to look upon the scene of the shooting. One of them was bound to have called the police. Daniel did not fancy staying around to meet the local law enforcement.

"We need to leave." Daniel hurried up to where Teal'c had stopped, which put them near the matte black SUV. The woman was on the ground, clutching at a profusely bleeding stomach wound. Daniel saw an opportunity here, and he knelt by her half-conscious form. Her blouse was soaked with blood, her breathing rapid and shallow, her complexion pale and eyes wide with pain and fear.

"Who are you?" He asked her. McKay stopped behind him then, looking down at the unknown woman with an uncertain anger.

No answer came. The woman appeared to have her mind elsewhere, no doubt having gone into shock as a result of her wounds. Daniel sighed and quickly searched her pockets, looking for anything that might indicate who she was and who she worked for. He certainly had an idea as to the latter, however, but no confirmation as yet.

"Teal'c, search the other one." Daniel motioned towards the dead man at the other side of the SUV. Teal'c went ahead and knelt by the corpse, searching the man's pockets quickly, but finding little. No ID, no phone, nothing that suggested anything about who these people were. Daniel, however, did find something: a plastic keycard, one adorned with the name and logo of what he assumed was a luxury hotel: PRIME SEASONS HOTEL. It was in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and it was intended for use to access the presidential suite. He rose to his feet, holding the card up for Teal'c to see.

"Better than nothing," he said. He slipped the keycard into a pocket, before he turned to McKay. "Looks like we've got our next destination. We better get going, before the police arrive."

"Who were these people?" Teal'c asked. The trio were hurrying for their own car, although McKay diverted to the motel room, intent on getting his computer and the data they had gleamed from Holt's own one.

"Hired goons, mercenaries, professional hitmen, any one of the above?" Daniel waited outside the car whilst Teal'c climbed in and started the engine. He looked up at their motel room, waiting for an anxious half minute as McKay barged inside, grabbed the computer and came running back out. A few other guests at the motel were now standing nearby, watching the trio, some even with their smartphones out and cameras running.

"Look, this is government business," Daniel told them. He fished his Air Force ID from inside his jacket. "Air Force? See?" Not that this would do him much good. His face was going to be all over the Internet in a few hours' time.

McKay joined them, a little short of breath from all the excitement. Nonetheless, he had his laptop and the information contained therein, and with this in hand he climbed into the backseat of the sedan. Engine running, Daniel joined Teal'c in the front, with the Jaffa slamming the car into gear before he hit the accelerator and sent them racing out of the motel lot. They left behind three dead goons, a dead civilian, a bunch of startled bystanders and a whole lot of questions. At least now they had some indication as to where they should go, even if it happened to plunge them straight into the lion's den.