Chapter 14 – Not Smooth Sailing
Jack looked at the yellow pages listings of for private detectives knowing that he didn't dare call one. Trials for treason weren't his cup of tea, particularly not when he was the defendant, and that was about all he'd get out of calling a private investigator. Still, he was getting frustrated. Hammond had no more information than he'd had a week ago, and as time passed, the trail grew colder.
His phone rang and he picked up the receiver, expecting Carter or Hammond, or at the outside, Sara. "Hello,' he said into the mouthpiece.
"You should have gotten there quicker, Jack," said a familiar, smug voice.
"Where is he, Maybourne?" Jack demanded.
"How should I know?" Maybourne asked, sounding sour. "No one tells me squat anymore. You'd think I was a wanted criminal or something."
It was on the tip of Jack's tongue to say that he was a wanted criminal, but he bit back on the words. He wanted to stay on the smarmy bastard's good side, at least for now. "So, what do you know, or did you just call to tell me I flubbed?"
"Pleasurable as that is, Jack, no. I called because I thought I might have a little bit more information than you do regarding the situation."
Jack waited for him to enlarge, but the other man was maddeningly silent. "So were you planning to share this information, or did you just want to gloat?"
"I don't know where Daniel is, so don't get your hopes up on that score."
Jack waited again, growing irritated. He smoothed as much of his annoyance out of his voice as was possible, and said, "Far be it from me to rush you or anything, but . . ."
"Some of my former colleagues have formed a sort of underground think tank that still has connections within the NID," Maybourne said. "I am still in occasional contact with some of them, and I gather that someone has decided that having Daniel Jackson roaming free is not safe."
"Oh, like Daniel would ever break security!" Jack growled. "Or –"
"No, you mistake my meaning," Maybourne said. "They've been trying for years to get Jackson restricted to planetside duty, afraid those extraordinary brains of his are going to get spilled on some alien planet and wasted."
Jack shuddered at the image. "So?"
"So they've decided to take him into protective custody. God's honest truth, I don't know where. I'd tell you if I did, but –"
"Why?" Jack asked suddenly.
"Why what?"
"Why would you tell me?" Jack asked. "Why have you told me this much?"
"Because I don't like to see valuable resources wasted, and unlike my colleagues, I recognize that holding Jackson prisoner is a waste of resources. He's too stubborn to be practical." Jack grimaced, recognizing the truth in that. "You need to find him and put him to work again."
"Yes," Jack said sarcastically, "getting him back to work is the most important thing."
"You don't expect me to be sentimental about this do you?" Maybourne asked and Jack rolled his eyes. "One positive thing to remember is that they won't hurt him if they want him to work for them. They aren't stupid enough to think that he'll respond to torture."
"Somehow I don't find that reassuring," Jack said, reflecting on Daniel's undeniable propensity for irritating people. "They're stupid enough to think they can make him work by holding him prisoner."
Maybourne snorted, but he didn't address that. "Oh, and you might want to check up on some of our friends who got long stays in Kansas or wherever. I believe that some of them may be out without the benefit of parole."
"What?" Jack exclaimed. "Who are you talking about?"
"That's all I know," Maybourne said. "Make of it what you will."
There was a click followed shortly by a dial tone. Jack put down the phone with an oath. A moment later, he was dialing the mountain. Hammond was in a meeting, so Jack left a message and headed in to the base. It wasn't much, but it was more than they'd had.
Daniel glowered out the window beside the fireplace. Makepeace was gone and he was left alone, contemplating just what he was going to do. He was in a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, on the second floor, locked into a bedroom. He lifted the sash of the window and examined the fastenings of the screen. Downstairs they were no doubt discussing just how to get that cuff on him without him hurting them or them hurting him. Though some of them might not be so sure on the latter part of that notion.
He had no idea what Jack would tell him to do. These folks weren't likely to kill him if he failed to cooperate. On the other hand, he didn't have a guess what they were likely to do. How did they hope to control him? The question didn't bear close examination.
The porch roof was easily accessible from this window, and as Daniel had suspected, there was nothing very esoteric holding the screen in place. However, there was a camera pointed this way, angled to catch anyone climbing out from the window onto the roof, and there were terminals on the window frame and the frame of the screen that suggested strongly that an alarm would sound if they were parted. It was set up with care. Daniel could easily remove the screen in case of fire, but an alarm would sound.
It seemed like something of a left-handed compliment. They hadn't underestimated his ingenuity. On the whole, he thought he'd rather be insulted and able to escape than complimented and without recourse.
Irritably, he turned away from the view and wandered around the room. Against the back wall of the house stood a king size bed of some dark, reddish wood with a pair of matching side tables. A small table with a pair of chairs resided under the window he'd just left. A pair of overstuffed chairs sat by the fireplace with a small table between them. Along the wall opposite the fireplace were bookshelves that were largely empty. At the end of the room opposite the bed there was a sofa set facing a large armoire. Since relatively few people sit and stare for long stretches of time at large pieces of furniture, Daniel presumed that it contained an entertainment center. Next to it was the door that Makepeace had said led to the bathroom. Daniel walked over and opened it, revealing a narrow hallway. On the right there was a series of cupboards and drawers, clearly a closet space. On the left were a pair of soothing prints on either side of an archway. Idly, Daniel opened a couple of doors. The sight of a heavy wool coat hanging in one cupboard gave him pause. It was June. Unless they were expecting unseasonably cold weather, that was a definite indication that they still expected him to be here in six months. He shut the door and continued down to the opening in the left wall.
A large whirlpool tub filled the far left corner and a huge glass shower took up the remaining portion of the left hand wall. Directly opposite the door was glass shelving with decorative doodads intermingled with toiletries and towels. There was a long counter with a pair of sinks and, finally, about the fanciest toilet Daniel had ever seen.
Shaking his head, he walked out into the bedroom again. These people were lunatics. Did they really think that locking him up in a plush prison was going to convince him to work for them? At least Travis had acknowledged the truth of the situation. He was a prisoner. They might hope he'd come around, but until that impossible moment, they were holding him against his will.
He very much doubted they'd given up on the electric cuff, no matter how much he'd prefer it if they had. He just wondered how the hell they planned to get him to hold still for it.
He opened the entertainment center and found the remote. Turning the TV on, he sat down and flipped through the channels. Nothing remotely local, just cable channels. No surprise there. He found a show about the machines used to make snack foods and sat back to watch. Thompson brought dinner in and put it on the table. Daniel carried the plate over to the couch and ate the extremely tasty meatloaf there while watching a series of shows on the history channel that were all about periods unrelated to his field of study.
He put the plate on the floor and stretched out on the sofa. It had been a very full day, and his adrenaline was apparently kicking out because he was getting very sleepy. After awhile, he gave up the struggle and let himself fall asleep.
It was very dark in the room when he woke up. He had a headache and his brain felt muzzy. Rubbing his eyes, he blinked over in the direction of the television. It was off, which seemed odd, because he didn't remember turning it off. He swung his feet off the couch and sat up, stretching. Something was binding on his left ankle, so he bent to see if he could free it. When he felt what it was, adrenaline shot through him, increasing the headache but burning away the fog.
There was a strip of plastic around his ankle, with holes down the center, and a small box affixed to the outside of his leg. He was wearing the cuff. They'd damned well drugged him so they could put the wretched thing on. He stood up and turned on the overhead light, pissed beyond words. Cowardly bastards couldn't even face him. He put his foot up on the arm of the sofa and examined the device. What could he use . . .
There were no fireplace tools, a fact which he found unsurprising. Pursing his lips, he went into the bathroom. Heavy glass shelves, bits of statuary, the lid of the toilet tank . . . he walked over to the sinks. Between them there was a really large marble soap dish that appeared to be separate from the counter top. He picked it up, weighing it in his hands. Heavy . . . solid . . . this was probably going to hurt.
Going down on his right knee, he aimed the side of the soap dish at the little white box on his ankle. He took a deep, steadying breath and slammed it down on the box. It made a satisfying crunch as the heavy weight crushed it. He grunted, because the soap dish also drove sharp bits of plastic against his ankle.
Dropping the soap dish, Daniel rubbed at his ankle where the cuff had pulled at it. He had a distinct sense of satisfaction looking at the broken thing. They probably already knew he'd destroyed it. These things were supposed to be hooked up to let the monitors know if the device was tampered with. He could probably expect an ill-tempered visit from his jailers shortly. He couldn't bring himself to care much.
He picked up a jagged chunk of housing and walked back out into the bedroom, leaving the other bits on the floor. They'd probably be heading upstairs right now. He headed over to the screen and started cutting through it. It was a simple deduction. The alarm wouldn't sound if the frame wasn't detached, so don't detach the frame.
Pushing out the center of the screen, Daniel climbed out and looked from side to side. He walked to the edge of the roof and swung down to the porch railing, then dropped to the ground. Hunched over, he ran under the windows to the rose garden, then headed out through the bushes where he'd be less visible. When he reached the outer edge of the garden, he started to hear shouts, and lights began to rake the yard. He fell flat as a light swept across where he'd been standing. He waited a few moments and then got up and hared off across the plain.
He didn't have the foggiest idea where he was or which way to head, but he wasn't going to wait tamely for rescue that might not come. Besides, if they didn't catch him, he'd get away. If they did, they'd get another lesson in just how not fun it was going to be to hold Daniel Jackson prisoner.
The sound of engines behind him made him grimace, but he kept going. If he was lucky they'd head in the wrong direction.
He wasn't lucky. Two ATVs pulled up on either side of him, one with Stu, the other with Makepeace. "Daniel, you are the stubbornest man I have ever met," Makepeace said.
He glared at both of them. "I don't want to go back."
"You really don't have a choice," Stu said. "Now, does one of us have to walk you back, or are you climbing on board?"
"What would you do in this situation?" Daniel asked Stu.
"Our positions are entirely different," Stu said.
"What, you mean you're a jailer and I'm a prisoner?"
"No, I mean you're a certifiable genius and I'm a dumb grunt," Stu replied.
Daniel rolled his eyes and shook his head. "That is the biggest crock of shit I ever heard. Let me go. Say you couldn't find me and let me go."
"We can't do that, Daniel," Makepeace said.
"Why not?" Daniel asked, expecting some ridiculous excuse about how important he was, how they couldn't risk him.
Makepeace shrugged and gave him a cockeyed grin. "We already reported in."
"So what? Do the right thing."
Two more ATVs drove up with two more guys. One was Travis, the other was Kevin. Daniel hadn't seen him since the plane. "All right, Dr. Jackson, we're going back to the house and you're going to stay there this time."
"You think so?" Daniel gave him a tight smile. "I think you'd do better to give in."
"You need to get on behind Makepeace and come back to the house."
Daniel crossed his arms and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Makepeace said, "They have a tranquilizer gun, Jackson." Daniel looked over at Makepeace and saw truth in his eyes. All the wind whooshed out of his sails. "Get on." Sullenly, Daniel walked over and climbed on the ATV.
They took him back to the house and Travis guided him into the office again. "Makepeace, get the ankle cuff off him," he said. Daniel let Makepeace cut the strip of black plastic off his ankle and looked curiously at the three fingers that were taped together on Travis's hand. Apparently his kick earlier in the day had had some impact. Travis rubbed his chin and said, "Kevin, you're going to spend the night with the good doctor."
Kevin looked startled and Daniel glared. "He's really not my type," Daniel said. Makepeace made a muffled sound that vaguely resembled amusement.
Travis shook his head, looking irritable. "Take him upstairs and –"
Daniel took a step towards him and Travis fell silent. "I really don't know exactly what it is you expect of me."
"That you'll behave like a good little civilian and accept that you –"
"Good little civilian," Daniel repeated.
Travis nodded. "You have –"
Daniel slugged him in the face. Travis was clearly not expecting it, because he stumbled backwards. Daniel followed up the first punch with another one. When he started to hit Travis a third time, though, he was grabbed from behind. Travis turned back towards him with an angry glare. He started to drive a punch into Daniel's gut, but Makepeace grabbed him.
"No, Bill," he exclaimed. "He's a civilian and he's restrained."
Travis pulled free of Makepeace and turned away. Makepeace gave Daniel a look of exasperation, like he couldn't figure out what Daniel hoped to gain by this.
After several minutes, Travis turned around. His eyes narrow slits, he looked at Daniel. "You are not going to get away," he said, his voice hard and angry. "We have the upper hand, we outnumber you seven to one, and you don't have half the training any one of us does."
"So what?" Daniel demanded.
Travis took a step closer so that they were almost nose to nose. Daniel glared right back at him as Travis started to speak again. "So you need to be practical and accept that you're here to stay."
"You may have read my files," Daniel said, "but you clearly didn't understand them. I don't give in to this kind of intimidation."
"Go to bed," Travis ordered. "We can talk more in the morning."
Daniel started to growl back at him, but Makepeace grabbed his arm. "Come on, Jackson, let's get you to bed."
"I'm not five!" Daniel snarled, turning on him. "And don't you think I slept enough this evening?"
"I don't," Makepeace said. "Come on." There was an earnest quality to his gaze that irritated Daniel, but also convinced him. He went reluctantly upstairs with Makepeace and Kevin.
Makepeace left them at the door, but Kevin accompanied Daniel into the bedroom. He saw that the screen he'd ripped out earlier was still damaged, but that the window was closed. Not looking at Kevin or speaking to him, Daniel went straight into the bathroom and took a shower to get cleaned up. When he came out, Kevin was sitting on the sofa, watching TV. The minute he emerged, Kevin turned off the TV.
Daniel shook his head. "Your boss is nuts," he said. Kevin looked uncomfortable, but he didn't speak. He just picked up a book and went over to the breakfast table where there was a small light. Daniel turned off the overhead and went to bed.