David Golemon - Primeval

As she sat back into her large chair, she flipped on the computer monitor again. The small icon was still flashing in the lower left-hand corner of the screen: USER 5656 LOGGED ON . Grogan sat back and watched the green numbers as they glowed in the semidarkness of her office. Then a small smile slowly crept across her features. She knew the log-on numbers had to be an American code for an agency — four numbers, and it seemed Blue Dahlia recognized these call numbers. Her smile broadened as she felt she had an ally somewhere in the world that would help her get Lynn home.

"The mysterious Colonel Jack Collins, I presume," she said just under her breath.

She would give the hacking computer another sixty seconds before she hit the alarm. After all, there was still a small chance it may be someone not so friendly to her government.

As Europa was scanning agency files at a blinding rate, the phone buzzed and Everett answered it.

"Yes… thank you," he said and hung up.

"That was the director's assistant. It seems the man that was kidnapped, this Juan Chavez, was found washed up against the pier pylons in Huntington Beach."

Without saying anything, Jack underlined Chavez's name on the list he was slowly putting together.

"Colonel, I still think investigating that end of things is as viable as it was before this news. Whatever these Russians are up to, they went through this man for some reason, more than likely a link to those papers, or the journal that was stolen."

"Okay, what do you suggest?" Jack asked.

Pete pushed his thick glasses back up to the bridge of his nose and thought.

"The man dealt in stolen goods, antiquities, almost anything of value derived from antiquity."

"Yes, but that could still mean anything," Everett volunteered.

"Captain, the work we do here, the recovery of history, is a very limited field. There are very few people in the world who are truly good at it. Thieves are not as good as the Group, of course, but they are very adequate when it comes to selling what they steal to private collectors around the world. Our computer is good but there's only so much we can uncover without leaving this room."

"You're suggesting we go into the field, fly to L.A. for a closer look?" Jack asked.

"Well, yes. Look here," Pete said as he stood and pointed at a line of script on the large monitor in front of them. "Yes, here we are. Langley has run this guy Chavez through Dahlia a thousand times, arrest records and such. The man has never divulged his source, who it is that's contracting his services. There wasn't one piece of incriminating evidence to be found in his Elysian Park home. No artwork, no statuary, no antique of any kind. This man sold everything he came into possession of."

"He has to have a buyer," Everett said.

"Not only that, but someone had to fund the world travel the agency uncovered. According to overseas records, this man, Chavez, was worth only two and half million dollars."

Jack looked at Pete and slowly nodded. "In other words, whoever was buying his stuff may have some clue as to what Sagli and Deonovich were seeking and why."

"Exactly, Colonel."

Pete was about to expand on his thoughts when the last line of script was entered onto the Europa main screen from the CIA mainframe. He grew silent as he watched the sentence run its course. Then he slowly removed his glasses and lightly touched Collins on the shoulder.

"Oh, God," was all Pete said.

Jack looked up at what was written on the screen and his heart fell to the bottom of his chest.

"I'm sorry, Jack," Everett said as he closed his eyes and shook his head.

As Europa finally came to a stop, the sentence pronounced their search may be over before it started.

RECOVERED RIGHT INDEX FINGER AT 2230 HOURS, POSITIVELY IDENTIFIED AS THAT SEVERED FROM THE AGENCY EMPLOYEE, SIMPSON, LYNN, H., DNA POSITIVE — FINGERPRINT ANALYSIS — POSITIVE.

"What did they do to her?" Jack asked as his eyes closed and his head sank to his chest.

"Doctor Golding, my entrance into the Blue Dahlia mainframe has been discovered; a trace is currently in process," Europa said calmly.

"Shut down, damn it, shut it down!" Pete said as he stood, pushing his chair back so hard it slammed into the far wall.

"Shutdown complete, trace was lost." Europa said in a calm voice.

Jack hurriedly put his notes in order and stood.

"Colonel?" Pete asked.

"I'm still going to L.A."

"Jack, I guess this is a good time to tell you: The director ordered me to stop you if you tried to leave the complex."

Jack looked from Everett and then to the monitor in front of him, and then returned his determined look to Carl.

"Right, I'll get us a plane," Everett said, shrugging out of his white electrostatic coat.

"Do that, Captain, and alert Mendenhall and Ryan. Tell them their weekend duties are canceled."

Everett watched as Jack left the clean room.

"Doc, correlate what you've recovered; there may be something in there that can help."

Pete Golding watched Everett follow Collins out of the clean room, and then he sat down and almost reached for the phone, but stopped. He almost shouted aloud when the phone startled him when it buzzed. He swallowed and then picked it up.

"Clean room," he said meekly.

"Pete, I just received a call from the White House. The president was informed that we hacked into the CIA mainframe."

"Niles, there's no way they can know that; Europa cut the trace before it took hold."

"Pete, I've had a few drinks here, but even I could figure out who did the hacking if I knew what agencies had the Cray system, and the president, in case you haven't noticed, isn't a fool. Where is Jack?"

"Uh… well… he and Captain Everett—"

"Have they left the complex?" Niles asked.

"Well, no, they haven't had the time; they just left the clean room."

"Do they have a lead on Jack's sister?"

"Niles, the damn Russians cut that little girl's finger off."

"Do they have a lead?"

"Yes, sir. Los Angeles."

"And they are still inside the complex?"

"Yes, sir," Pete said, feeling like he was betraying Jack and Carl.

There was silence on Niles's end of the phone. Then he finally spoke. "Okay, give them another thirty minutes to clear Nellis, and then issue an order for any Event personnel to detain Captain Everett and Colonel Collins."

"Sir?" Pete asked, not believing Niles was letting them go.

"Hell, you may as well include their little sidekicks in that order, too. Detain Mendenhall and Ryan. No wait," Compton said thinking as fast as Europa. "Get to Lieutenant Mendenhall, pry him away from Ryan and the others, and have him and Sarah McIntire report to me before the colonel can get to him, do it ASAP, Pete, you hear me?"

"But—"

"If Jack thinks there's a chance of him finding his sister, we'll give him the time he needs, but I also know for a fact that everyone from the FBI to Virginia farm boys will be out to stop him from doing so. I need McIntire and Mendenhall in my office; they are not to accompany Collins, Everett, and Ryan."

The phone went dead and Pete just shook his head in wonder.

"It would be nice if someone asked me along for the ride sometime," Pete said to himself.

After Niles hung up, he slowly kicked his shoes off and then lay down on his couch, a place where he had spent most of the last month sleeping, and where he would now try to dream through the dark storm that was about to hit. He pushed his glasses onto his balding head and then closed his eyes. He was wondering just how long it would take Langley to scream bloody murder all the way to the White House about the Group's assault on CIA's Blue Dahlia.