See part one for header notes
This was going to be posted when I'd finished posting all of "Brother", but then I realised last night that there's at least 15 more chapters, so here's chapter 9 for you lovely people...
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General Victor Dubenich gave Sergeant Spencer a long hard look, but all the man looked was sheepish, as though getting found out wasn't something which could have potentially blown the operation wide open, but rather a minor and embarrassing slip. He would deal with the man later.
For now though, the dark haired Captain in front of him occupied most of his attention.
"I'm sorry," he apologised warmly. "What did you say your name was?"
She smiled back at him. "Gunschtock. But please, call me Anna."
"Anna then," he agreed. It cost nothing to be pleasant. But how a South African had ended up working at the SGC he had no idea. While the country was currently on good – comparatively – terms with the States, he didn't think any nation outside the Security Council would have military personnel based at a Most Secret project. "May I ask-?"he began, but it seemed the woman had been anticipating the question.
"How it is I am employed by the SGC?" she asked, smile tightening. "Simple. My mother is South African, but my father was a British Diplomat. Only low level, of course, but it was enough for my mother and I to be able to leave South Africa during the... troubles."
Dubenich glanced briefly at Spencer, but the man hadn't reacted. Had given no indication he had even heard the comment.
He didn't know why he expected more from one of those special ops NCOs. Meat-heads, the whole lot of them.
He returned his attention fully to the pretty, dark-haired woman and smiled disarmingly. "Ms Gunschtock; Anna. Maybe we could discuss this over lunch?"
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Eliot waited until the door clicked shut behind Dubenich and Captain Devereaux, Dubenich's admonition to collect his stuff and show himself out still echoing in his ears, before swiftly jamming a chair under the door handle and turning to the air conditioning vent.
Unbolting it and pulling it from its frame, he offered Parker a hand down, but was forced to jump away as she dropped, right where his foot would have been had he not moved.
He growled quietly at her, which she blithely ignored as she moved to attach the transmitter to the underside of Dubenich's desk. Shaking his head, Eliot collected the sheaves of paper he had brought with him. Dubenich need never know that half the information was bunk; Sophie's distraction had worked admirably well.
Papers gathered, he turned back just in time to see Parker hoisting herself back into the air vent and rolled his eyes. Of course she had already finished. He sighed, fastening the cover back in place and unblocking the door, just as Dubenich's secretary tried the handle.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, and he smiled disarmingly at the young woman.
"Sorry 'bout that Sergeant," he told her as she fumbled her salute in her moment of surprise. He returned it perfunctorily, feeling oddly guilty about it, even though he was now officially under legal orders. Or, at least, marginally more legal orders than Dubenich's original set. "My file exploded."
She smiled cheerfully. "Oh, it happens to us all, sir. Did you find everything."
He nodded. "Sure hope so, sergeant. Any chance you could show me outta this rabbit warren? I got a bit turned round getting in here."
"Of course, sir. Follow me."
It was with a sense of relief that the woman led them in the opposite direction to her desk as he caught sight of Parker from the corner of his eye as she dropped into the camera blind spot from her hiding spot in the air duct to plant the last transmitter.
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Nate sat in front of Jack's desk, carefully keeping his eyes away from the decanter of whisky on the shelves behind the other man.
Jack studied him carefully, before nodding to himself.
"Like I said," he murmured. "Not gonna ask. I like the idea of plausible deniability for a change. But," he continued, "I need to know what you're going to need to use to pull the guy in."
Spreading his hands, Nate shrugged. "I have no idea. I don't know precisely what you're doing here beyond travelling through the Stargate, and I don't know what he would be after, beyond the very basics I've been told by Parker, Hardison and Spencer. 'Something about technology' is the most I've got."
Jack nodded. "He's likely after a few things in particular. First on the whole Trust's shopping list is Asgard tech. First thing they all go for. We're lucky Thor's keeping a better eye on their doohickeys lately." His eyes turned introspective for a moment, evidently a bad memory, but he didn't go into it. "Tollan, sometimes. But we've got a couple of new allies that we're trading with more these days. Dubenich would probably go for Amestrian medical technology – it's a huge advance for prosthetics. According to Dr Fraser, that would be worth a fortune to the right people and not black market either."
He sighed, rubbing his face. "And then there's Sanq." He was evidently a bit more frustrated with these allies than the Amestrians. "They have a few things the Trust would want, I mean, these guys have colonies in orbit for cryin' out loud. Who wouldn't want that? But they have something that they're trying to slot together with the prosthetics at the moment. It's a neural tie in. Doc Fraser could tell you more. The two officers who are assigned to the SGC as part of an exchange program have both volunteered to assist you if you need them." He paused. "I'd suggest Captain Edward Elric. He's got prosthetics. Some of the best examples of them."
Nate was intrigued. Edward. "This would be your adopted kid? Ed, was it?" he asked.
Jack gave a tight smile. "One of 'em," he agreed. "You should come to dinner."
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Hardison was getting twitchy by the time Eliot and Parker rejoined him in the cell. They had been taken out early and all three of them had been handed the prototypes of the comms devices Alec and Lieutenant Colonel Carter had been working on, and Parker and Eliot had been loaded into an official vehicle with Captain Devereaux, currently masquerading as a civilian contractor from South Africa via Britain.
All he had known was that as soon as their part of the assignment had finished, they had been ordered to remove their mikes and all he had known was that their tracking devices – implanted personally by Dr Fraser, former member of the Spanish Inquisition – were heading back in the direction of the SGC.
He restrained himself from hugging either of them in greeting, because he kind of liked his vital statistics not being either measured or assisted by machinery, but raised his brows in inquiry as the door clicked shut behind them.
"New friend?" he asked Eliot of Dubenich's secretary. "You see any irony at all in the Klingon comments?"
Eliot grunted in response, investigating the pre-packed sandwiches that had been left for them on the unused bunk.
"Parker."
She looked up as he called her name, grinning as she took the roast beef and horseradish sandwich from him.
He held up the last two sandwiches to Hardison. "Chicken or cheese?" he asked.
Hardison shrugged. Neither looked particularly appetising. "Hey!" he protested as the cheese hit him in the solar plexus.