In a nearly identical motel room to their previous meeting, Jack sat across from Tom, his mind swirling with thoughts about Sam and the Russian Mafia's involvement. This time, there were no guns drawn on him, a welcome change. Tom handed him a high-quality photo, and Jack examined it closely. The image showed a Caucasian man, with short thin black hair and eyes, a prominent scar running from his right eyebrow to his jaw. He had several tattoos covering his entire neck and chest and Tom identified him as Vladimir Babanian, the head of a powerful Russian Mafia family in the United States.
With a matter-of-fact tone, Tom uttered the sentence that carried the weight of their agreement: "You owe me 200 grand for this."
Jack, understanding the gravity of the situation and the value of the information Tom had provided, simply nodded in acknowledgment. The atmosphere in the room was tense, reflecting the high stakes involved in their mission to rescue Sam.
Tom mentioned the Russian Mafia's potential infiltration of SGC, revealing that they had likely bribed several techs within the organization. And that he also might have done the same in Russia. Jack couldn't hide his shock and confusion.
"But that doesn't make sense," he pondered aloud. "If he already had people working for him, why did he need Sam?"
Tom didn't have a definitive answer.
Jack's eyes, fixated on the photo of Vladimir Babanian, radiated an intense mixture of anger and hatred. His jaw clenched, and his grip on the photograph tightened as he asked Tom the crucial question: "Where is he?"
Tom, maintaining a steady demeanor, provided the critical information: "My source says he's probably in New Jersey. He has some deals and operations in Nevada but his main business is in Jersey. He has several mansions there."
Jack's frustration and anxiety were visible. He couldn't bear the thought of Sam being in the hands of this criminal, and his clenched hand indicated his deep distress.
"Can you travel to Jersey and check the houses? See if she is one of them. I'll pay whatever it costs," Jack implored, his voice reflecting the urgency of the situation.
Tom, understanding the gravity of the request, swallowed hard and finally agreed to help. He couldn't help but comment on the depth of Jack's feelings for Sam, saying, "You must love her very much."
Jack, his face betraying no emotion, responded with sincerity.
"I do. Although we never explicitly said a word to each other regarding that, she's the love of my life. You've known me for a long time, Tom. You knew Sara. This is completely different. Falling in love with someone you had no intentions of falling for is the most beautiful kind of love, it turns out. It's just a pure, raw connection that is created on its own. That is our love."
Moved by Jack's declaration, Tom placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and offered unwavering support.
"We'll find her, Jack," he assured with determination.
Jack, filled with resolve, accepted Tom's words.
"I know. I won't give up on her. I'll die trying," he declared firmly. With that, he left the motel room, ready to do whatever it took to rescue the woman he loved.
Sam's brief respite was abruptly interrupted when Vlad, accompanied by his imposing enforcer Fyodor, stormed into her room. The force of the slaps he delivered to her face left her seeing stars, both literally and figuratively. His furious voice echoed in the room as he berated her for not working.
"What the hell do you think you are doing!? Why aren't you working?" Vlad yelled, his grip on her cheeks sending shockwaves of pain through her.
Sam, still reeling from the unexpected assault, instinctively raised a hand to shield herself from further harm. She steadied herself, her voice trembling as she tried to reason with him.
"I need to rest, Vlad. I'm not a machine. I'll work now, okay?" She quickly moved to her laptop, hoping to divert his anger.
Vlad's threats loomed heavily in the room as he left, warning her that her punishment could escalate if she didn't deliver results that day. Sam bit her lip, fighting back her fear and frustration, and started typing with renewed determination. She knew that she had to find a way into the Russian Stargate system, whatever it took.
After relentless hours of work, Sam finally managed to crack the complex Russian Stargate system code. It had been a daunting task, considering the formidable hackers the Russians had employed to safeguard their systems. But she had succeeded. She knocked on the door, and Fyodor appeared after unlocking her door. Her heart pounded with a mix of triumph and dread.
Sam conveyed her success to Fyodor, though she wasn't entirely sure he understood her. He firmly grasped her arm and led her through the house until they reached a closed door. He knocked and entered, revealing Vlad engrossed in a conversation on his cell phone in Russian. As soon as he spotted Sam, he abruptly ended the call.
"So?" Vlad inquired eagerly as Sam handed him her laptop. His face lit up with a smile, repeating the words "Good. Very good" while examining the contents of the device. He asked Sam if the SGC was aware of their access, and she reassured him that they remained undetected.
"Excellent," Vlad beamed, but this was the moment Sam had both anticipated and feared. She had fulfilled her part of the bargain, but what fate awaited her now? Was she going to be killed, imprisoned, or set free?
Summoning her courage, Sam broached the topic, "I've done what you asked, Vlad." She watched him closely, anxiety gnawing at her. Vlad glanced up from the laptop and fixed his gaze on her.
"Yes, you did. So?" he replied, crossing his arms.
Sam's stomach churned with trepidation as she ventured, "Am I free to go?"
Vlad studied her in silence, and then a sudden burst of laughter erupted from him. He laughed so heartily that he had to pause to catch his breath.
"Oh, Samantha, my dear..." he began, amusement dancing in his dark eyes.
Sam felt her blood run cold, her head spinning as Vlad's words sank in.
"I'm afraid I can't do that," he declared, and then darkness enveloped her.
Tom had arrived in New Jersey two days ago, determined to unravel the mystery surrounding Vlad's mansions in the area. He knew he had to tread carefully, so after another discreet meeting with his trusted contact, he finally held in his hand the valuable addresses he sought. Vlad's properties were a formidable challenge - three houses, each fortified with imposing walls and state-of-the-art security measures. It was clear that Vlad took his security extremely seriously, with armed guards, vigilant dogs, and even the occasional passing police car.
Tom understood that attempting to break into any of these fortresses would be a perilous endeavor, likely resulting in a death sentence. He wasn't about to make such a reckless move. What he needed was an inside source, someone who could provide him with the information he required without drawing unwanted attention.
Sitting in his car, Tom carefully reviewed the list of names he had obtained. This would be a critical decision, as choosing the right person to help him was paramount. He needed someone who was not only trustworthy but also intimately familiar with Vlad's operations and the layout of these heavily guarded properties.
With a deep breath, he started the engine, knowing that he had a long and treacherous journey ahead. Tom was no fool; he understood that this mission was fraught with danger, but he was determined to see it through, no matter the cost. His quest to discover if the former Colonel Carter was inside any of these houses had officially begun, and he was ready to make his move, one careful step at a time.
Back at the SGC, the atmosphere was tense as Jack sat down with Daniel and Teal'c to bring them up to speed on what had been happening, particularly regarding Sam's situation. The news that she had been targeted by the Russian Mafia was a shock to both of them, leaving them momentarily speechless.
Teal'c, ever the composed warrior, was the first to break the silence. He spoke with his usual determination, offering his unwavering support, "I'll assist you in any way you require, O'Neill."
Daniel, still processing the gravity of the situation, expressed his sentiments in a slightly less coordinated manner, "I... I can't believe this, Jack. But, yes, I'm with you."
Jack nodded appreciatively at their willingness to stand by him in this dire situation. He knew he could count on his friends.
"Thank you both. We're in this together."
Daniel, ever considerate, gently inquired about Jacob Carter's awareness of Sam's predicament. He remembered how Jacob had been heartbroken when Sam had left the Air Force and refused to see him.
Jack nodded, acknowledging Daniel's question.
"Yes, I sent a message to the Tok'ra, but they replied, telling me he's on an undercover mission and they can't reach him. They promised to warn him as soon as they could, but you know them. It can take months," he said with a heavy sigh, expressing frustration with the Tok'ra's sometimes slow response time.
Teal'c, a man of few words, added his agreement, his expression solemn.
"Yes, our allies sometimes tend to take too much time to attend to our requests," he noted, underscoring the challenges of coordinating with external allies.
Daniel pressed on, considering another potential ally.
"And the Asgard, Jack? They have very advanced technology," he suggested, hoping for a more immediate solution.
Jack's reaction bordered on annoyance at the suggestion.
"Don't you think I haven't thought of that, Daniel? That it wasn't my first call?" he replied, his frustration evident.
Daniel, still puzzled, inquired further, "So what happened?"
Jack's anger simmered just beneath the surface as he responded, almost punching the table in frustration.
"I don't fucking know. Thor hasn't answered any of my messages. Maybe they're hiking the galaxy, making fucking clones. Who the hell knows!" he exclaimed angrily, his voice reflecting his frustration and impatience.
Both Daniel and Teal'c exchanged silent glances, realizing that even with their allies, they sometimes found themselves on their own, facing many challenges like the current one involving Sam's disappearance.
A little calmer, Jack then laid out his plans, earthlier due to the lack of alien aid, emphasizing caution and the need to avoid making any moves that might jeopardize Sam's safety or tip off the Russian Mafia.
"While my friend is in New Jersey," he began, "I'm afraid it's too risky to take any action here or warn the Russians. We don't want to put Sam in danger or alert that Russian scumbag."
Both Daniel and Teal'c nodded in agreement, recognizing the importance of patience and discretion in their current circumstances.
"However," Jack continued, "we can start by looking into all the personnel who might fit the criteria for bribery. We'll begin here with those who have the highest access to the Stargate system and then conduct a deeper investigation, quietly and without raising any alarms."
With their course of action decided, the three of them shared a determined and solemn glance, ready to undertake the challenging task of identifying the moles within the SGC and working towards Sam's safety and the security of the Stargate program. The gravity of their mission weighed heavily on them, but their resolve was unshakable.
As Sam slowly regained consciousness, she found herself lying in the familiar bed of the room she had occupied in the last few days. The soft daylight streaming through the window indicated that only a couple of hours had passed since she had last been conscious. She blinked and took in her surroundings, momentarily relieved to find that she was alone.
However, that fleeting sense of relief quickly gave way to a suffocating dread as she remembered the chilling words Vlad had uttered. She was a prisoner in this place, and there was no room for illusions. She knew, with a chilling certainty, that Vlad would not hesitate to eliminate her as soon as she ceased to be useful to him. It was just a matter of time.
Sam closed her eyes, trying to steady her racing thoughts and control the welling emotions. The weight of her situation bore down on her, and she couldn't help but feel a profound sense of despair. Her only regret, amidst all the chaos and danger, was that she might never get the chance to tell Jack how much she loved him. Their last encounter had been fraught with tension and conflict, a bitter memory that now haunted her.
She bit down hard on her lip, feeling the sting as she fought back the tears that threatened to escape. She refused to allow herself the luxury of breaking down. Sam knew that in this dire situation, she had to be strong and resilient. She couldn't afford to show weakness, not if she wanted to survive the ordeal ahead. With a deep breath, she steeled herself for the challenges to come, determined to hold onto whatever hope remained and to find a way out of this nightmare, no matter the odds.
Tom had meticulously selected three individuals from the extensive list of employees who entered and left Vladimir Babanian's three mansions daily. Each of them had a vulnerable spot that Tom could exploit, and he knew that Jack was going to have to spend more money than he had initially anticipated. However, Tom had seen the look in Jack's eyes—a deep and consuming love that compelled a person to do anything. He could relate, having lost the only woman he had ever loved to cancer just a year ago. Tom knew what that kind of love could drive someone to do.
As he parked his car and observed the small yellow house with its blinds drawn, Tom's thoughts returned to Jack and Helen, his wife. He understood the pain of losing a loved one and the desperation that could drive a person to take risks. Tom was determined to help Jack, just as he wished someone had been there for him in his darkest moments.
With a deep breath, Tom approached the front door and rang the doorbell. A short, middle-aged man with curly brownish hair opened the door, and Tom put on a friendly smile.
"Hi, Matt Zoomer?" he inquired.
Matt looked at the tall man dressed all in black, his instinct telling him to shut the door. But Tom was faster, blocking the door with his foot and preventing it from closing.
"I think you should listen to what I have to say," Tom urged, his expression turning serious.
Reluctantly, Matt allowed Tom to enter. Much tidier than Tom had expected, the living room displayed a football game on the TV. Matt, looking uncomfortable, took a seat on his worn-out sofa.
"What do you want?" he asked cautiously.
Tom handed him an envelope and said, "Look at them." Matt opened the envelope and silently viewed the incriminating photos that had been taken of him gambling and losing heavily in Atlantic City.
"Who sent you?" he asked, placing the envelope on the coffee table.
"It doesn't matter," Tom replied calmly. "What matters is that I have an offer to make you. I need to know something. If someone is inside the house you work in every day. If you help me with that, I'll pay you enough money for you to disappear and never deal with your boss again. I imagine he won't be very happy when he finds out that you've used his money for gambling."
Matt's face drained of color, and he stammered, "What do you need?"
Tom produced a picture of Sam and handed it to him.
"I need to know if this woman is inside the house. Whether she's okay if she walks around freely, or if she's locked up. That's all," he explained.
Matt examined the photo closely, confirming, "I can already answer that. I've seen her."
Tom regarded him with suspicion.
"Don't lie to me," he warned.
Matt shook his head vehemently.
"No, I'm serious. I've made her breakfast several times and taken it to Fyodor, the bodyguard. I've seen her," he repeated.
Tom couldn't believe his luck.
"Okay, describe her to me," he urged, hoping for confirmation.
Matt continued, "At first, I thought she was Russian—tall, blonde, blue eyes. Quite a sight, man. But then I heard her speak English, and the boss was yelling at her. He never yells with his women; he just punches them."
Tom clenched his jaw, absorbing the information.
"What else?" he inquired urgently.
"I don't think she's free to move around. The only times I've seen her around the house, she always had Fyodor with her," Matt added.
Tom handed him a small cell phone.
"Here. This is a burner. I want you to take a photo of her. As soon as I have it, I'll give you the money, and you get the hell out of here," he instructed.
Matt gripped the phone tightly.
"How much money are we talking about?" he asked, clearly enticed by the offer.
"A hundred grand," Tom replied.
Matt's eyes widened at the figure.
"Okay, I'll do it," he agreed.
With that, Tom left Matt's house. Alone in his car, he exhaled a long, deep breath, hoping that Matt Zoomer was telling the truth and that this information would be the key to saving Sam and bringing down Vladimir Babanian.
True to his word, Matt Zoomer sent a text to Tom confirming that he had the photo and was ready for a meeting. Tom, always cautious when dealing with matters involving the Russian mafia, chose a public place for their rendezvous. He knew that trust was a precious commodity in such dealings, and he couldn't discount the possibility that Matt might have a change of heart and seek a more lucrative reward from Vladimir by disclosing their conversation.
The selected location was the entrance of the public library, a neutral ground where they could blend in with the crowd and reduce the risk of unwanted attention. As the agreed-upon time arrived, Tom carefully scanned the area, ensuring there were no suspicious individuals nearby. When he was satisfied that the meeting spot was secure, he approached Matt.
"That was quick," Tom remarked as he sat down next to the cook.
Matt handed him the phone with the required photo.
"It was pure luck. The boss asked me to prepare her breakfast as usual, and when Fyodor was opening the door, I took the photo," he said, pride evident in his smile.
Tom accepted the phone and examined the image closely. There was no mistaking her—it was Samantha Carter. She appeared exhausted and thinner, but her identity was undeniable. Tom handed Matt a thick envelope containing the promised payment.
"Here. A deal is a deal. I suggest you get away as fast as possible. Things are about to get complicated," he advised, rising from his seat and reaching for his cell phone. He needed to contact Jack as soon as possible.
Matt nodded, pocketing the envelope and looking somewhat relieved. He understood the gravity of the situation, and the money provided him with a lifeline to escape the dangerous web of the Russian mafia. With a quick acknowledgment, he hurried away, leaving Tom to make the crucial call to Jack and share the vital information they had obtained.