------------------------------
The Sentinel Project Part 13
by Lianne Burwell
June 2003
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"No."

"The matter is not open for debate, Colonel."

Jack glared at the cold-eyed blonde. "And I said no. We've 
already played guinea pig for those things once before, and 
we are *not* doing it again."

"We have eliminated the side-effects," Anise said in that 
weird doubled over voice that marked a snake, whether 
Goa'uld or Tok'ra.

Jack didn't bother looking at her. As far as he was 
concerned, she didn't exist. "The last time we put those 
damned things on, you nearly lost SG-1, or have you 
forgotten?"

"I read the report, Colonel," Covarrubias said calmly from 
behind her desk. "And that is why I want SG-1 to test the 
new version of the armbands. You know what the effects were 
on the first set, so you can properly evaluate the new 
ones."

"But our reactions will be tainted by that previous 
experience," Jack protested, pulling out Daniel's argument. 
"No matter what these things do, we're going to be 
expecting the same thing as before to happen."

"He has a point," Hammond said, and Jack mentally thanked 
the man for backing him up. Covarrubias had been running 
roughshod over the general since her arrival, but Hammond 
was loyal to his people. His reaction to finding out that 
the armbands were still around and that the Tok'ra were 
still playing with them had been impressive to see. He'd 
also been furious when Covarrubias had overridden him about 
letting Freya back on base. After their last experience 
with her, he'd said it would be a cold day in hell before 
he let her back into SGC. Covarrubias hadn't been 
impressed.

"I don't care what sort of point he has, General. SG-1 will 
be trying the new version of the armbands tomorrow. If they 
do not like it, they can spend the next few years in a jail 
cell for treason. Is that understood?"

Jack straightened up, very stiff. "Yes, ma'am," he said, 
trying not to spit the words. "I have lodged my protest. 
And if anything happens to my people, I am holding you 
personally responsible.

She waved him away. He pivoted on his heel, and headed out 
the office door, ignoring Maybourne's smirk as he left the 
room. He found his team waiting for him in the hallway with 
varying degrees of anxiety on their faces. Carter took one 
look at his face and started cursing under her breath. Jack 
was tempted to join her, but as team leader, it was now his 
turn to be calm about this.

"Tomorrow morning," he said. He wanted to say more, but he 
couldn't get the words out. He planned to change into 
workout gear and head down to the gym to work out his 
frustrations on a heavy bag. At that moment, he didn't even 
trust himself to try a workout against a living person. He 
wanted to hurt something, badly.

"Colonel."

Jack turned around to find Freya standing just outside 
Covarrubias' door. The unmodified voice and lack of glowing 
eyes told him that Anise had been temporarily pushed to the 
back. "Yes?" he said tightly.

"I promise. We have dealt with the... unfortunate side 
effects from the last time," she said, her eyes never 
leaving his face. It made his skin crawl. "Your people will 
be quite safe."

Jack shook his head. "No they won't be. All that means is 
that we have to deal with a whole new set of side effects. 
You cannot guarantee anything."

Before she could protest, he turned and walked away, his 
team trailing behind him.

"What if we refuse?" Carter asked as they rounded the 
corner.

Jack's jaw tightened. "Then we end up in a military jail 
for refusing a direct order from the White House," he said.

"Great," Daniel muttered. "In case they've forgotten, I'm a 
civilian and so is Teal'c."

"Yep, but you both signed papers putting you under the 
command of the military. You might get away with quitting, 
but they'd probably lock you up to make sure that you don't 
blab to the press. And Teal'c would be booted off planet so 
fast that Junior's head would spin."

"I am not leaving." Teal'c said calmly from behind them.

"Yeah, well you were left out of it last time," Daniel 
said. Then he winced. "Sorry. I'm real glad you were around 
to pull our butts out of the fire, if I didn't tell you 
before."

"And if necessary, I will do so again."

Jack shook his head. "No go, big guy. One of the 
improvements means that you're in it too, this time."

"If they fixed things so that they work on a host? Then why 
don't they use their own people as guinea pigs?"

"One of the many questions I asked, Sam," Jack said, 
suddenly feeling very tired. "All I was told was that one 
of the things they want to test is that the modified 
virus," he shuddered, "will work on people who have 
previously developed antibodies. These new versions 
supposedly don't have a time limit, don't act like a drug 
in the system, and are completely controllable. We have 
nothing to worry about.

"So, basically we're screwed," Daniel said.

"In a word, yeah."

>>>~~~<<<

Krycek slipped over the wall silently, having already 
disabled the alarm system. Montoya's enclave had a state of 
the art system, but for him, it had been a piece of cake. 
The Hunters had done an excellent job getting all the 
information he needed for the job. Building plans, security 
system details, guard patrol routes. No dogs, thankfully. 
Apparently Montoya didn't like being woken by their 
barking. Besides, he figured the electronics did a much 
better job.

Krycek wasn't going to complain. He hated guard dogs. They 
were so messy to take care of.

The problem with electronic security systems, though, was 
that they couldn't think for themselves. A little hacking, 
a bit of rewiring, and they hummed along happily, ignoring 
everything that went on around them. The images that were 
being displayed on the monitors inside were a simple little 
loop, designed so that no one watching would ever notice 
the difference. Hell, they were probably jerking off to 
porno magazines, not watching the screens.

Krycek slapped himself mentally for that. Thinking that way 
was a good way to end up dead. You had to act as though you 
were going up against the best, most alert people in the 
business. Otherwise you got sloppy.

Still, it was hard not to get overconfident when things 
went this smoothly. The French doors that went from the 
pool area to an overdone family room had a simple latch, 
and he had already taken care of the electronic sensors. He 
didn't even have to think about picking the lock, it was so 
easy. He did keep a wary eye out for guards, though. 
According to the Hunters, the guards did patrol from time 
to time, either on a random schedule, or simply whenever 
they felt like it, either from boredom or duty.

A tiny flash of light, all but invisible in the corner of 
the room, caught his eye. He doubted that anyone who didn't 
know where it was would have noticed. Instantly, he froze. 
The question was, was it a heat detector or a motion 
detector? If it was a heat detector, he was screwed.

But the room was already warm, so making a quick choice, 
Krycek decided to go with motion detector.

To the average guy on the street, a motion detector sounded 
impressive, but truth was, if you knew what you were doing, 
they were easy to defeat. All you had to do was move slow 
enough that you didn't trigger the sensor. Moving slowly 
and deliberately, he moved around the edge of the room, 
heading for the French doors that mirrored the ones leading 
outside. These ones went from the family room to the 
hallway, though, and he was pretty sure that there wouldn't 
been any motion detectors in the hallways, since even at 
this hour, there would be people moving around house.

However, the unexpected security in the family room made 
Krycek cautious. He was armed, but the last thing he wanted 
was to start shooting, if only because it would draw 
unwelcome attention. So just to be safe, he paused at the 
door and checked it carefully.

He was almost unsurprised to note the tiny wires going from 
the door frame into the door, right near the hinges. His 
guess was that there were sensor plates set into the doors, 
and the moment that he opened the doors, an alarm would be 
set off. Suddenly, the lax security didn't seem quite so 
lax.

Still, with the right gear and training, even that alarm 
could be bypassed, and he had both. It took a while, 
working at the slow pace that the motion detectors 
demanded, but with a little fiddling, he had the door open 
and no alarms. Hopefully.

From there, it was just a matter of following the plans, 
keeping a careful eye out for any more surprises, or other 
visitors, until he reached the master bedroom. He was a 
little surprised when a close examination of the bedroom 
door didn't show any more unexpected alarms, but since it 
was on the second floor, maybe Senor Estoban thought that 
they weren't needed. The second floor situation was why 
he'd come in through the family room instead of directly 
into the bedroom.

Satisfied that the coast was clear, relatively speaking, 
Krycek pushed the door open slowly, and slipped into the 
darkened room.

What he found on the other side had to be the largest, most 
overdone bedroom he'd ever had the misfortune to see, and 
one that had obviously never been touched by a professional 
decorator. Everything was of the finest quality, from the 
hand-carved, king-sized four-poster bed in the center of 
the room to the antique tapestry on the wall, but there was 
just too much, and there didn't seem to be any 
consideration of whether it actually went together. Krycek 
was no interior decorator himself, but even he could tell 
tacky when he saw it.

There were also *two* lumps in the bed, one of them softly 
snoring. He'd been hoping that Montoya would be alone, but 
he hadn't counted on it. He moved stealthily to the side of 
the bed with the smaller lump -- the lady of the day, or 
night, he assumed.

Once upon a time he would have just slit her throat and 
been done with it: the only good witness was a dead one. It 
might even reinforce the idea that the kidnapping was 
orchestrated by a rival gang. However, he doubted that 
Mulder would appreciate it if he found out, and neither 
would the Hunters. As a result, he had to reject that idea. 
However, that didn't mean Montoya needed to know that.

Krycek pulled a small tube from a pocket on the inside of 
his jacket. It was one of several he had ready in case he 
ran into an unexpected dog or a security guard. He aimed it 
at the girl's face -- a fairly pretty blonde, he noted 
dispassionately -- and pressed a button on the side. There 
was a barely audible hiss, and she gasped briefly, her eyes 
flying open. Then they closed again, and she slipped into a 
drugged sleep that would have her out of commission for 
about two hours; maybe a little longer considering her 
size.

Then he eased back the covers and pulled a packet out of 
his pocket and tore the corner off, a grin on his face. He 
doubted that this was what Heinz had in mind when they 
started putting ketchup in the takeout packets, but he 
certainly appreciated it.

A few artistic minutes later, the stage was set. Krycek 
kicked the empty packets under the bed, then pulled the 
knife out of the sheath in the small of his back. He 
smeared some of the ketchup on the blade, promising himself 
that he would make sure it got properly cleaned before the 
night was over. He rolled the rim of his cap down over his 
face, then he moved around the bed to Montoya and slapped 
one gloved hand down onto the man's mouth, waking him 
instantly.

"I suggest you stay very, very still," he told the man in 
deliberately accented Spanish. Being Cuban, the man would 
recognize a Russian accent when he heard it. For emphasis, 
he waved the knife in the man's field of view, then used 
the edge of the top sheet to clean off the ketchup. Under 
normal circumstances, anyone would recognize the scent as 
condiment, not blood, but woken up in the middle of the 
night, inside his supposedly secure compound, by a masked 
man in black, waving a knife that looked like it was 
covered in blood, Montoya was obviously not at his best. 
His eyes darted to the side, and he actually whimpered when 
he saw his young paramour with red smeared thickly on her 
throat, staining the sheets around her. The fact that her 
chest was rising and falling, and her eyes were shut, 
should have been a clue, but the clue bus definitely wasn't 
stopping here at the moment.

Krycek grinned under the mask. It covered his face 
completely, so that Montoya couldn't see a single detail of 
his features, but from his side it was almost transparent, 
letting him see and breathe easily. He knew from long 
training with the Consortium just how terrifying facing a 
faceless intruder would be. It was a trick he'd used 
himself before, and found amusing. If Montoya wanted 
terrifying, he should try being possessed by a shapeless 
alien. He should try being locked in a missile silo, alone, 
with no supplies. This was nothing.

"Now, Mr. Montoya, I want you to do exactly what I tell you 
to. If you do, you just might come out of this alive. Fuck 
me in anyway, and I will kill you. Is that understood?" The 
man nodded, his eyes wide with terror. What a wimp. "Good. 
Now, get up."

The man slid out of bed, collapsing to his knees on the 
floor. Krycek grabbed him by the back of his neck and 
'helped' him to his feet. Then he pushed him towards the 
door. For a moment, Montoya resisted. "I'm naked," he said.

Krycek snickered softly to himself. "Didn't you ever go 
streaking as a young man?" he said. "Move."

Outside the bedroom, Krycek pressed the knife to the back 
of the man's neck, almost hard enough to part the skin. 
"The family room is wired. Where can we leave the building 
so that alarms will not be raised and no one will see us?"

"Why should I tell you?" Montoya said, trying to sound 
tough.

"Because if you don't, I will kill you now and take my 
chances. And if you lead me into a trap, I will kill you 
before your guards can kill me. The only hope you have is 
to lead the way out of here. Is that understood?" He 
pressed harder, and a tiny line of blood formed on the 
man's neck.

"Understood," Montoya said, and he could hear the surrender 
in the man's voice. A very dark part of him thrilled to it, 
and was tempted to cut the man a little more. 
Unfortunately, Mulder was waiting down the street, hidden 
in a grove with the car.

Luckily, Montoya did as he was told, leading him down to 
the end of the hallway. The bastard actually had a hidden 
door, with a stairwell behind it. This was probably his 
escape route in case he was raided, either by his enemies 
or the police. Instead, it was going to be their ticket out 
of there with no one the wiser.

Outside the house, it took little time to get back to where 
he'd come over the fence. This was the only tricky part, 
since he had to send Montoya over first, then get over 
before the man could run or raise the alarm.

Sure enough, Montoya ran, but he was over fifty and getting 
thick around the waist, and it took little effort for 
Krycek to bring him down. "Very stupid," he hissed, the 
knife pressed into the man's throat. Then he reversed his 
grip and slammed the hilt against the man's forehead. 
Moving quickly, he deactivated the little techie toys that 
had screwed with the security electronics, then returned to 
the unconscious man. Montoya definitely needed to go on a 
diet, he thought to himself as he manhandled the man into a 
fireman's carry.

>>>~~~<<<

Mulder was sitting behind the wheel of the car the Hunters 
had found for them, praying that no one came by at the 
wrong moment. Luckily, in the semi-exclusive neighborhood, 
the cops weren't likely to stop a car that looked like it 
belonged, and the nearly new Cadillac certainly did. He had 
no idea where the bikers had found the vehicle, just that 
they'd been promised it wasn't stolen.

He tapped his fingertips against the steering wheel, 
wishing that he dared start the car so that he could at 
least listen to the radio while he waited. Unfortunately, 
that might attract the wrong sort of attention. Instead, he 
was stuck there with nothing to do, not even a book to 
read, waiting for Alex to show up with Montoya in tow, of 
for all hell to break loose.

He was debating getting out of the car and doing a quick 
walk around -- just enough to stretch his legs, he told 
himself -- when a segment of shadows started to move. He 
reached down and wrapped his hand around the grip of his 
pistol. Then the shape resolved itself into Alex, mask 
still over his face, with a naked man slung over his 
shoulder,

Mulder opened the door and got out. Alex motioned to the 
back of the car, and Mulder reached back in to pop the 
trunk. "Any problems?" he whispered.

Alex pulled off his mask and handed it to Mulder. "Nah, not 
a one," he said with a bone-chilling grin. It was an 
expression that promised quick and bloody death to anyone 
that got in his way, and all it did was make Mulder hard.

Alex dumped the man in the trunk, where he shifted slightly 
an groaned. Alex pulled out his bag of tricks, and produced 
a damp cloth in a plastic container. He pressed the cloth 
to Montoya's face, and the man subsided. Then he used 
plastic riot handcuffs to tie the man's hands and feet. 
This puppy was going nowhere, except for where they took 
him. And when they got there, Montoya was going to spill 
his guts.

Mulder just hoped that they wouldn't have to hurt the man 
to get that information.

TO BE CONTINUED