AU: Senator Kinsey gets wind of John O'Neill's excursion to the quiet town of Cascade. General Kennedy provides some information on the owner of the house.
Part of my Lost and Found Universe.
Triggers: Depression, Underage Relationship, Reference to a Major Character Death, Suicidal Thoughts, Foul Language, Reference to War.
Please note that this story deals with an underage character and a very mature age character. I DO NOT CONDONE this behaviour, but please remember that this is FanFiction, not real life, and the characters are Sam and Jack in other forms. While Jack's clone is 16 in this story, he is still a 52 year old man.
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to Amazon/MGM. I'm just throwing them a curve ball and making their lives a little derentis!
Chapter 5:
Thursday, 12th February 2004 - 9:00am EST – Washington – Kinsey Estate – Senator Kinsey
It was beautiful this time of year, despite the cool temperatures. The little bit of snow we had overnight had already melted making the green grass sparkle despite the partially overcast day. Oscar's excited bark reached my ears as he dropped the ball at my youngest granddaughter's feet for her to throw it again made me smile. There were a few rare things on God's green Earth that made that happen. Things to cherish and protect, especially when we had corrupt officers in the military threatening our very existence by exposing us to their imagined threat of other Gods.
There were no other Gods.
"Senator." My aide interrupted my solitude.
"Jefferies, I thought I told you I was not to be disturbed this morning." I said without taking my eyes off my granddaughter.
"Yes, Sir. However…" His continued persistence made me turn around ready to take his head off. Doing so, I saw the crisp blue uniform of General Kennedy waiting by the backdoor of my residence. It had to be important for him to risk coming himself rather than sending that lap dog Samuels.
"Send him over." I commanded to which he ducked his head and moved back toward my guest. Kennedy would only come in person for something so vital that he could not entrust it to anyone else. The need for there to be a verifiable gap between his position and mine was essential when trying to root out the corruption at the SGC.
The NID thus far had proven useless in rooting out the evil harboured in that facility. Simmons had disappeared and Barrett had had a crush on that hussy, Major Carter before she ended up in the ground. Like he would have ever had a chance. I knew she was turning tricks for her Commanding Officer; I just couldn't prove it. If I had, then her memorial scheduled for next week would be a very different affair from what was planned.
Turning back towards the entertainment, I waited for his approach. Soon enough the squeak of high shines on the grass announced his presence.
"Senator, thank you for seeing me." He said from behind my lounge. I could have offered him a seat in the second lounge, but that would have placed him in the same league as me, which he was most certainly not.
"Kennedy. I trust you have good reason for this intrusion." I said, urging him with my tone of voice to get to the point of his visit.
"Yes, Sir. Surveillance tracking on the clone…"
"The abomination!" I barked angrily. "Call it what it is, General. It is a subversion of the human existence. A deviation from the right and just, a creature made in the image of a mere man, rather than of our Lord." I instructed him in the all-important scriptures of our faith. The book by which all great men looked to when carving their destiny in the sight of God.
"Yes, Sir." He replied, "The abomination has been observed traveling to Cascade. He…" I bristled and gave him an apoplectic look over my shoulder, the incandescent rage brimming just daring him to refer to it as a person one more time.
"It… was seen entering this house." He stated, handing me a photo of a quaint country-style cottage house that looked like it could be a small – very small – hunting lodge.
"Whose house is this?" I asked.
"It is currently in the name of a Ms. Samantha Joanne Carter, born 25th January 1916. A retired school teacher from an education facility that was shut down more than 30 years ago. She has been listed as the owner for 6 years and 4 months." The information he provided was succinct and informative. The fact that O'Neill's abomination was visiting a person of this particular name was very interesting, especially since her namesake was recently killed in action.
"What do you know about this schoolteacher?" I asked, taking a sip of my Long Island Iced Tea.
"Born 1916 in Hartford, Connecticut. Her father – Harold – was British and her mother – Penelope – an American living in England. They married months before the outbreak of the Great War. Harold was lost in the trenches within days of landing. Penelope came home, six months later Samantha was born. Samantha never married and had no children, other than those at Glenville School in Greenwich, Connecticut. She retired in 1975 when the school changed locations." Kennedy prattled on giving me an abridged version of her history. It seemed all above board.
"Cascade. The values are said to be quite high for the average American in that part of this great country." I surmised, though for someone like me, a property such as this would be mere pocket change.
"Moderately so, Sir."
"Hmm, but not moderate enough for a retired schoolteacher unless she had a windfall." I added to my summations. "Who was the previous owner?" I asked, because I knew that an officer like Kennedy would have retrieved that information as part of his investigations.
"Mr. Neville C. Tyler, Sir." He responded, the ruffling of paper suggesting he was seeking other information. Born in Chicago, Illinois in 1950. A Boilermaker by trade, ran his own business in Chicago until the death of his wife in 1968 which is when retired and moved to Colorado. He sold the property in September 1997 and seemingly disappeared. No forwarding address was given."
Sitting quietly while I absorbed all the information, he had given me. For some reason that name was familiar though I could not place it. I just had a feeling that I had read that name - or one similar to it - somewhere. I couldn't help but notice the squeaking sound of his shoes moving restlessly against the grass.
"What is it?" I growled.
"Sir. She has never been seen. Not once in the six years."
"What?" I turned around and pinned him with a gaze that made him look out across the yard.
"No one has ever seen her, Sir. There's…" He licked his lips before surging on, "…a rumour that she is the Samantha Carter." He looked back at me with wide eyes as he spoke the name.
"General, you are aware that Major Samantha Carter was killed in action last week, and certainly not in her late 80's." I asked, looking for anything in his expression that suggested he knew otherwise.
"Yes, Sir. Her death has been well documented, and the body retrieved. She was taken from the SGC to the Academy Mortuary by military transport for cremation the day of her death." He informed me without so much as a hint that he believed otherwise. "The Jaffa travelled with her and returned with an urn of ashes the next day. It is said he stood vigil over her body the entire time."
"So, pray tell, how can this other woman be the Samantha Carter?" I asked, just daring him to say it was another abomination. Another heathenistic sacrilege of life.
"I don't know, Sir."
"Then you will find out!" I growled, momentarily getting the attention of my granddaughter. Smiling at her, I held up my drink in a show of enthusiasm. "Who do you have that can discreetly follow her? And not the same schmuck you have on O'Neill's cast off."
"There is a detective from Denver. Word has it that he undertakes certain extracurricular activities as it were." Kennedy stated drily with a slight tone of displeasure, as if his character was so untarnished. We trained any resemblance of human decency out of him in the ISR, and for him to pretend that this detective was somehow different to him was laughable. The only difference between them was that the General was paid, and paid well, to do what he did.
"Extracurricular?"
"Surveillance, Sir." I raised an eyebrow at his chosen terminology. He raised his fisted hand to his mouth to cover a cough before continuing, "He ordered a background check on Major Carter, then received a reprimand for stalking her. He was injured in dubious circumstances, but there are no records of his visiting a medical institution for treatment." Kennedy informed me, then produced a file before continuing.
"We found a redacted NDA buried in NID records, but Agent Barrett informed me that it was rendered obsolete when the Major died." He added as I took the file from his hand and flipped it open. Eying the Detective's police ID photograph, I noted he didn't look overly special. Sandy blond hair, brown eyes, and fair skin.
Skimming further down, I read other particulars – 'Name: Peter Shanahan. Age: 32. Height: 1.83 metres. Position: Detective. Precinct: Denver, District 5.' – before flipping the page for information on his career.
'Assigned to the Homicide and Robbery Unit within the Denver Police Department for two years after completing his cursory four years as a Patrol Officer. Divorced for two years, no children. Recipient of multiple Commendations for a job well done and a Police Merit Award for solving the murder of a woman found in the water at Parkfield Lake Park.'
"Where is his reprimand for stalking?" I asked as I flipped the folder closed and handed it back, pinning him with a stare. The corner of his mouth jerked into a flitting smile before disappearing under the façade of stoniness, never removing his eyes from mine.
"It seems the paperwork was misplaced. Sir." He said clearly and without any indication that he had had anything to do with that turn of events.
"Is that right, General?" I drawled, my own smile forming. An officer with what amounted a clean record and no links to the Air Force, NID – or me for that matter – would be perfect for uncovering the story behind this mysterious woman.
"What about the redacted NDA?"
"Sealed and archived as an obsolete document. Never to see the light of day again."
"How can you be sure of that, General?" I asked since I knew how incredibly sneaky General Hammond and Colonel O'Neill were. There were rumours of O'Neill taking over the top job from Hammond within a year, a turn of events that I was committed to preventing, even if I had to work day and night to get my own person in there. I had several candidates in mind, but the one that stood out the most was the civilian diplomat and linguist with an impressive resumé and documented results brokering international treaties.
Doctor Elizabeth Weir.
Though, it was her underlying distrust of the military and lobbying against overspending that I was more interested in. What better way to get the place shut down than to put a political activist in charge. Hayes was already well aware of her tenacity and willingness to get the best deal for the American people. Now she would work for my interests and my agenda.
Control. Pure and simple.
The Gate would be mine, then the Presidency.
"Sir?" Kennedy prompted, making me refocus on him with a look that dared him to ask if I'd been listening. At length he opened a leather bag that I had not noticed he was carrying and produced a familiar looking folder marked with nothing but the United States Air Force insignia on the front.
Taking it from him, I flipped to open to find the heading 'Non-Disclosure Agreement' across the top, the Detectives name, date of birth and current known address followed by his signature in smudged blue pen and smeared fingerprints in blood. Carefully avoiding the dried smears, I turned the page to find evenly typed Times New Roman words with anything alluding to any classified topic blacked out, though words like 'unlawful surveillance', 'breach of National Security' and 'interference in a military operation' were still fully visible.
"It's sealed and archived. In my office desk drawer, Sir." He said while that mischievous smile grew into something undefinable. "Even redacted, this document would end his illustrious career with the Denver Police Department and any other Government Department or Security Installation in the US."
"I like the way you think, Kennedy. Get Samuels to be the fall guy on this, I need you at the Pentagon." I instructed. If Hammond really was planning retirement, I needed Kennedy in a position that would get him noticed as the best candidate for SGC Base Commander should the President reject the idea of a civilian leader. I couldn't have him conjuring up another General or - God forbid - promoting O'Neill.
"Colonel Samuels is on the roster for flight hours in 12 days, Sir. He is delivering an F-16C to Buckley and returning on a military hop out of Peterson." Kennedy informed me, not that cared what he was doing, only that he was going to be in Denver. "It will be the perfect opportunity for him to initiate contact."
"Make it happen, Major General." I replied with a knowing smirk. He smiled at my poignant use of the rank he had not yet attained. A promotion he would not receive without overseeing a major department.
"Yes, Sir." He replied, standing to attention, and reaching for the bloodied document I held out toward him. He turned sharply and marched across the lawn.
I turned back to resume watching my granddaughter who was now sitting on the grass giving Oscar a belly scratch and smiled, knowing that I was protecting her life and her future by ridding the world of the heathens, the corrupt and the unjust. Non-believers who dared to question the sanctity of the right true God and his chosen nation. Looking up to the flecks of blue straining to be seen through the cover of grey, I made a promise to my family, my constituents and myself.
"I'm coming for you O'Neill, and your downfall will – be – glorious."