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Dead Men Tell No Tales

Chapter 13

The drive from Silver Springs to Denver had been done in government vehicles, red lights flashing, the drivers free to exceed the speed limits as much as necessary to get Daniel and Janet to the airport before the plane carrying their loved ones arrived.  FBI agents escorted them into the airport; they were clinging to one another as the reality of the situation sat in.  It was really over. As predicted, several local reporters had arrived as soon as word had 'leaked' that the two kidnap victims were to be flown into the Denver airport after they were cleaned up and had been fed. The medical reports stated that the women had been dehydrated and hungry, but not otherwise harmed. Speculation ran high about the reason the kidnappers seemed reluctant to hurt either woman. When the news of Kinsey's involvement broke, there would be further 'leaks' that would indicate that the senator had left orders that they were to be left unharmed…for his pleasure. The already dirty politician was going to be dragged through the mud even further.

"Doctor Jackson! Doctor Jackson! How are you feeling right now?" one reporter screamed, shoving her microphone as close to him as she could.

"Relieved," he replied truthfully.

"Doctor Fraiser, how are you feeling?"

"The same, relieved," Janet replied, her voice unsteady.

Pulling the petite woman closer, Daniel followed the burly FBI agent who had been assigned to escort them all the way to the gate where Casey and Cassie would deplane. Because the story had gone national, the FBI was allowing one reporter from a Denver news program, one from CNN, and one from FoxNews to cover the reunion. Agreements had already been reached that file footage would be shared among the remaining stations and newspapers that were covering the story. The camera crews with those three reporters had received word that Dr. Jackson and Dr. Fraiser were on their way.

"Doctor Jackson! Doctor Fraiser! Do you know any of the details about the abduction?" the CNN reporter asked.

"Not at this time," Daniel replied.

"Doctor Fraiser, will your daughter return to school on Monday?" the Denver Channel 4 reporter called out.

"It's totally up to Cassie," Janet said.

"We understand that the kidnappers are still at large," the Fox reporter said. "Do you have anything you'd like to say to them?"

Daniel stopped walking. Looked directly at the reporter. "I sure as hell do!"

The reporter nodded. "Look into that camera, Doctor Jackson, and say what you'd like to say."

His blue eyes turned frosty. "You won't be able to hide forever. And when you're found, you'll pay for what you've done."

The FBI agent calmly, silently led the two SGC members passed the reporters, and to the waiting area near the gate. The private jet, owned and operated by the FBI, would be arriving within minutes.

Daniel had been with Casey that morning. It was just after midnight. It already felt as if it had been forever since he had seen her…held her. Knew that Janet was nearly beside herself needing to hold Cassie, to assure herself that her daughter was indeed all right.

Passengers waiting at nearby gates for their flights murmured as they watched the television crews filming the three people who stood at the empty gate. Most people had heard about the kidnapping, the televisions scattered throughout the terminal were covering the arrival of the two women. Several young people moved close enough to wave at the cameras, delighted to see themselves on TV.

The jet taxied slowly to the jetway. Janet felt as if they were taking forever to connect the portable passageway to the door that had just swung open.

Daniel shifted the bouquet of roses from one hand to the other. Put his arm around Janet's shoulders when the woman reached for his arm, needing his quiet strength to help her through the last, agonizing minutes.

Two FBI agents appeared first. Janet was straining to see around their broad shoulders.


"Cassie!" Janet raced toward her daughter. Pulled her close, held her tightly. "Oh, baby," she whispered.

Safe in her mother's arms at last, Cassandra Fraiser let go of the hold she had kept on her emotions. She began to cry, clinging to Janet as the woman gently swayed back and forth.

Daniel watched for the few seconds it took for Casey to clear the jetway, a slight smile on his face. "Hey gorgeous," he said softly.

"Hey, handsome," she replied. The instant his arms went around her, she felt her own emotions swell and overtake her.

"Shh…it's okay, Angel. It's all over," Daniel whispered. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

"Can we go home now?"

"Anytime you're ready," he replied.

The FBI agents kept the crowd of ticketed passengers and the three television reporters from getting too close to the reunited families. The bruise on Cassie's chin was darker under the harsh lights that the camera crews aimed at them, would turn yellowish green in another day or so. Casey's eyes were wide, she hadn't been this close to the reporters in Cheyenne. She was clinging to her husband, an action not missed by the witnesses or the cameras.

"And so, it ends," the FoxNews reporter said, the cameras focused on him once again, as the small group disappeared from site, surrounded by FBI agents. "Thankfully, a happy ending. Now the search for the kidnappers will begin. And we can only hope that those responsible will indeed be brought to justice. Back to you, Brit."

A black van had been brought up to the front door. Police officers kept the reporters and curious public at bay as the FBI agents escorted Daniel and Casey, and Janet and Cassie through the airport. Casey was clutching the roses Daniel had given her, Cassie was clinging to her mother, the stems of white carnations mashed in her other hand.

Reporters called out questions, microphones were shoved into their faces, lights flashed, cameras clicked and whirred. Daniel tightened his arm around Casey's shoulders. Could feel her trembling. Media circus didn't come close to describing the near frenzy-like atmosphere just outside of the Denver airport. When the van pulled away from the curb, dozens of reporters turned to face cameras, making their final comments on the story that had been headline news for almost a week.


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"We're taking you to the infirmary," Janet said quietly.

"Mom, we've been poked and prodded and questioned all day," Cassie groaned.

"You're not all right until I say you're all right," the petite doctor replied firmly. She reached over and took Casey's hand. "Thank you for taking care of her."

Casey pulled at her lip, glanced at Daniel. "I only wish I'd been able to do more."

Janet frowned. Knew that there was something that she hadn't been told. At least, not yet. Began to worry about what had happened to her little girl.

The van let them off at the first gate of the Cheyenne Mountain Military Complex. Jack was waiting for them in his truck. Daniel climbed into the front seat, allowing Janet to sit with Cassie and Casey.




Nothing was said until they were standing in the infirmary. Sam, Teal'c, and General Hammond were waiting for them.

"I want to know it all," Janet said quietly.

Cassie glanced at Casey. "You first," she whispered.

With a nod at the teenager, holding her hand tightly, Casey began to recount what had happened, from the moment the woman had pulled the gun on them in the restroom to the moment that the truck drivers had stopped their eighteen wheeler so that she and Cassie could join Daniel.

Cassie glanced around at the faces of the people who were her family. Stared at the floor as she told her story. Tears dripped off her crimson cheeks as she admitted to what she had seen...what the man who was guarding her had intended…the result of her struggle against him.

Janet's cheeks were wet, her eyes full of fire when Cassie finished speaking. "I want them found! I want them killed!" she hissed.

"I'm sorry, Mom," Cassie said softly.

"For what, baby?"

"I…I…" the teenager began to cry. "I didn't mean to! Honest I didn't."

When Cassie had dropped to the floor, covering her face with both hands, Janet knelt down beside her. Pulled her daughter into her arms. "It's okay, honey. You did what you had to do to survive," she said, not realizing she was echoing the words Daniel and Casey had used in the hotel room.

Sam knelt beside her best friend and goddaughter. "Cassie, you're a very brave young woman. You did everything right, everything you should have done."

The men standing in the room were struggling to control their emotions. Each of them willing and eager to find those who still lived, who had visited this horror upon an innocent teenager. Each of them also worried about Casey, knowing that she would blame herself for not reaching Cassie in time. Both of the young women would deal with the aftermath of the ordeal for some time to come. A fact that angered the men who cared for them.


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Kinsey reached over and turned off the television. Was almost disappointed that his 'death' had received so little coverage. Now that the bitch and the kid were home, he assumed that more attention would be paid to his untimely demise.

He'd been shocked at first when he found that his accounts in the Cayman's had been frozen. Several hundred thousand dollars unavailable to him. Arguing with the banker for nearly three hours had netted him nothing but an escort from the premises. He had exactly seven hundred dollars. When it was gone…He finished the whiskey that was in the bottom of the bottle. Slapped Jeanie's ass. "Get me another bottle."

"If you're drunk, you can't get it up," she complained.

"Get me another goddamned bottle." He glanced at the clock beside the bed. "It's almost time for Alberto to get here."

The slim woman shivered. "I don't like him," she whispered.

"He likes you. And he's willing to…trade…for what we want," Kinsey replied harshly. "Go take a shower. He likes you clean."

It isn't supposed to be this way, she thought frantically. Bob was going to divorce his wife, marry her, and they would live in a villa on a beautiful tropical island, and Richie was supposed to live with them, and they would get high and have sex and she could go shopping in all of the exclusive shops…she wasn't supposed to have to fuck a fat, disgusting man in order to get a few ounces of cocaine! It was all wrong! She'd tried calling Richie twice, but he hadn't answered his phone. The third time Bob had slapped her several times, telling her she wasn't to use the phone at all without his permission, and without him being with her.

She pulled the door of the bathroom closed. The hotel room was dirty, the hotel itself run down, sitting on the edge of the small town, within sight of the shantytown where hundreds of out-of-work farmers and miners lived in squalor. It wasn't supposed to be this way! She wanted out!

The window was grimy. She didn't think it had been opened in years. She pushed against it, managed to get it to open just a little bit. She looked down at the street three floors below. Saw the car stop in front of the building. Watched the man named Alberto get out, adjust the jacket of his suit, then hurry into the building. Took a deep breath and pushed against the window again. With a worried glance at the locked door, she slipped through the opening, clinging to the ledge until she could find something else to hang onto. She didn't dare move toward the window to the room where Kinsey lay on the filthy bed in just his underwear. Stretching, she reached for the other window…to the next room. Her heart was pounding against her ribs as she pulled herself through that opening. The couple who were making love on the bed stared at her. She said nothing as she ran toward the door.

Alberto was just stepping off of the elevator. He never noticed the door that was open just a crack, nor did he see the frightened eyes that watched him. As soon as he went into the Kinsey's room, she bolted toward the stairs. She'd heard Bob say something about an embassy. She just had to find the American Embassy!

The cab driver was young, and handsome. She didn't know much Spanish, but knew enough to procure a ride to where she wanted to go. The price: a trip Around the World. When she was dressed again, sitting in the back of the cab, she closed her eyes. She'd turn herself in. Prison couldn't be any worse than this. Maybe they would cut a deal. She knew more about Bob's business than she let on.

When the cab stopped in front of a lowly little shack, she bit back the bile that filled her throat. "Ésta no es la Embajada Americana." [This is not the American Embassy.]

"No, no es. Pero usted no necesitará hablar a los Americanos allí." [No, it is not. But you will not need to speak to the Americans there.]

She took a deep breath. There were many things Senator Robert Kinsey hadn't known about his sometime mistress. One of those things was that she had been in the Marines. She had served two hitches in the corp. Her record wasn't exemplary, but she had managed to get a general discharge. She still remembered her hand-to-hand combat training. She smiled at the young man. Beckoned him to join her in the back seat. It took longer to snap his neck than it should have, and he managed to hit her twice, she'd have one hell of a black eye, and her lip was split. She shoved his body from the vehicle, crawled into the front seat, and praying that the battered Toyota had enough fuel, headed back toward the highway. She'd heard Bob talking about the much larger town to the east of where they were staying. That was the direction she went.




"Jeanie? Get your ass out here!" Kinsey yelled, wiping the residue of cocaine from his nose.

"She was not so shy yesterday," Alberto said, in his accented voice, his laughter making his ample belly shake. The American woman had been quite eager to fuck him for a bit of the white powder.

The former US Senator began to pound on the door.

"Step aside, little man, before you hurt yourself," Alberto laughed. He shoved his bulk against the door. "She is gone," he said, pointing to the open window. He turned back to the Senator. "If you don't have American dollars, senor, and the pretty American whore isn't here, then you will have to pay me."

Kinsey frowned. He hadn't had a cock up his ass since the day he had left Cheyenne. He nodded. Reached for the bottle and took a healthy swig, then poured the remainder over the throbbing erection that the drug dealer had exposed.

The large man grinned when the American dropped his shorts, then knelt down on the floor. He spat into his hand, wiped it over the tip of his cock, pressed against that tight opening.

What a hell of a thing, Kinsey thought, closing his eyes as the man behind him began to grunt with each thrust into his body. A US Senator reduced to taking it up the ass for a little coke! This wasn't how it was supposed to be!


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Harry Maybourne watched the cab careen back onto the highway, the American woman driving it. He didn't have to follow the narrow dirt road to know what he would find at the end of it. He shrugged, turned his car back toward town. She was inconsequential. His focus was on Kinsey.

He knew which hotel the bastard was staying in. Knew which room. He walked into the lobby, looked around. Four of the drug dealer's henchmen were waiting, keeping an eye on things while their boss conducted his business.

Thumbing through the English to Spanish dictionary, his camera swinging on his chest, Harry walked up to the counter. Asked for a room in halting Spanish. Listened to the desk clerk joke about him with the henchmen. Without a doubt he was being charged at least three times the going rate; part of the money, good ol' US dollars, would no doubt find its way into the clerk's pocket.

The elevator creaked and groaned. He decided to take the stairs back down. The hallway smelled like urine and booze. He couldn't help but grin. Had to be hard for a man like Kinsey, used to the finer things in life, to have to stay in a flea-bag place like this. Well, that's what happened to liars and cheats.

He didn't bother knocking on the door. He simply walked in. "Well, hell, Bob! The last time I saw you, you were in the same position!"

Kinsey's eyes went wide as he looked over his shoulder. He tried to pull away from the fat man behind him, but Alberto clamped a meaty hand over his shoulder, held him in place.

The drug dealer glanced at Harry. "You want a piece of this ass?" he asked in heavily accented English.

"No, thanks. Don't know what diseases the bastard might have," Harry replied.

Alberto glared down at Kinsey, then began to thrust harder.

"Just wanted to thank you for your little…donation…to my retirement fund," Harry said calmly.

"You?" Kinsey gasped. He'd known that the government hadn't found out about those off shore accounts!

"It's amazing what you can do with a laptop and the correct passwords and account numbers," the former NID agent replied.

"Wha…wha…What are you…going to…do to me?" Kinsey was panting. In spite of the fact that Maybourne stood watching, his hand went to his own erection and began to stroke hard and fast.

"Not a damned thing. Seems you'll be all right. As long as you keep your boyfriend here happy, you'll live," Harry replied.

"You son…of a…bitch!" Kinsey swore, his eyes full of the hatred that flooded him.

"Not me, Bob. Everything I've done, I've done because I believed it was the best thing for the country. Everything you did was for Senator Robert Kinsey. I never pretended to be anything other than what I am. You tried to hide a black soul beneath a lily-white exterior, praising the Lord and thumping the Bible with one hand, and stabbing your colleagues and constituents in the back with the other. Seems to me you're getting exactly what you deserve." Without another word, Harry aimed the camera, clicked off half a roll of film, then left the room. Alberto's yell of satisfaction filled the air as he headed for the stairs. He shook his head when he heard Kinsey cry out as well. Sick twisted bastard!


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Jeanie almost cried with relief when she saw the American flag. She tore the bottom of her blouse off, used it to wipe the back seat, the front seat and the steering wheel. Dropped the strip of cloth into the sewer water that ran in the ditch beside the road.

The embassy was just under a mile from where she left the cab. She knew that she was dirty, she reeked of sweat and sex. Hope that the information she held would be enough to at least get her back into the US kept her walking.

She approached the Marine guards confidently. "My name is Jeanie Meyers. I was Senator Robert Kinsey's secretary, flight attendant on his personal Lear jet, and his lover. I know that he was involved in the kidnapping of Casey Jackson and Cassandra Fraiser. I know who he hired to do the job. I know where he is now."

The Marines exchanged glances. Called for an escort. They had been following the news. Earlier in the day word had broken that Senator Kinsey had been linked to the dead kidnapper. There was already speculation that the Senator himself might have killed the man, in an attempt to keep him quiet.

She wasn't surprised to be taken into custody. It was, however, better than any of her alternatives at the moment. She was allowed to bathe. Given clean clothes and a hot meal. And then questioned for seven hours. The next morning she was on a flight back to the United States, a prisoner, but free from Robert Kinsey. The senator would no doubt be extradited back to the US, disgraced, nothing more than a common criminal.

She was allowed to call her brother before the plane took off, only to get the answering machine again. In the deepest part of her heart she knew that Richie was dead. And that Kinsey was responsible for his death. She sat back in the seat, wondered when…and how… her life had taken such a horrible turn.


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Kinsey was lying on the bed, naked, his body still covered with the dried semen that Alberto had deposited in him, and on him, when the police knocked on the door. He closed his eyes. It was all falling apart. Everything was wrong…so damned wrong! It had all started when he let that infuriating group at the SGC get to him. God, he hated George Hammond and Jack O'Neill! The problems had been compounded, quickly…suddenly…when he had decided to make money off of Cassandra Fraiser and Casey Jackson. A little… payback…for all of the grief and embarrassment he'd suffered because of SG-1 and the SGC. Maybourne was right. If he had hired competent help…well, he'd probably be in Cheyenne enjoying that slender blonde Doctor Daniel Jackson had married. His accounts in the Cayman Islands would have swollen to several million dollars. And he would still be a respected…and feared…United States Senator.

He pulled on his clothes. He wasn't going to answer any questions that this gaggle of incompetent boobs had for him. There was no way he would ask for the Embassy, however. Robert Kinsey was dead. He would call Alberto, ask for assistance. He had talked to the man earlier about working as an 'advisor'. He was hopeful that the drug lord would still be interested in 'hiring' him.

When he asked for a phone call, the officers laughed at him. Shoved him into a cell. He sat on the bare wood plank bunk. He couldn't ask for Alberto by name, he had no idea if the police were being paid off by the dealer or not. If not, it would only compound his problems to be associated with the man.

It wasn't supposed to be like this!

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