"Listen and learn." Elizabeth led him over to join the contentious discussion between Daniel and Larance. When he neared the FBI agent's line of sight, Rodney subtly improved his posture.
The ends of Larance's dark blond hair brushed against her shoulders as she continued to shake her head. "I can accept the possibility of a virus in the progeria spectrum causing this type of damage. But the deterioration is the only factor it would explain." Her tone businesslike, she ticked off the details on her fingers. "Ritualized evisceration, the precise arrangement of the bodies, the missing hearts, not to mention the fires, which were unquestionably lit to obscure the cause of death-and may have succeeded in doing so in any number of unknown cases…" Pinning Daniel with a gaze that invited him to answer at his own risk, she challenged, "Does your virus draw patterns on floors, use a lighter, and make internal organs disappear into thin air?"
Perhaps more than anyone else in the Stargate program besides Elizabeth, Daniel was experienced in dealing with forceful people. It was never easy to accept an accusation of dishonesty, veiled or not, even when dishonesty was part of the plan. Daniel, though, displayed no reaction except to offer his most truthful statement so far that afternoon. "We're not concerned with the virus per se."
Rodney's brow wrinkled. "We're not?" When he received matching glares from Daniel and Elizabeth, he rapidly amended, "No-well, we are, of course, but it's more complicated than that." Looking contrite, he waved a hand at Daniel. "Please, go on."
Elizabeth closed her eyes. Maybe her instructions to Rodney should have been `Listen and learn and, for the love of everything holy, don't talk.'
"We believe," Daniel continued, "that a cult devoted to the worship of Lilith stole the virus and has been using it as part of their rituals."
Some, but not all, of the suspicion cleared from Larance's face. Progress, maybe. Then her eyes shifted to something on the far side of the room, and Elizabeth turned to see John come through the doorway, his CDC Marines in tow.
This ought to be interesting.
John's pace slowed, and he and Larance sized each other up. Apparently Lam's en route briefing to him hadn't included the identity of the agent with whom he'd be working. Recognition appeared to dawn for both parties at approximately the same time, but neither betrayed much in the way of surprise. The profiler spoke first, cocking her head. "Major-Sheppard, right?"
"Lieutenant Colonel these days, believe it or not" John directed his `team' to load the bodies for transport and crossed the room toward her. "Good to see you again, Dr. Larance."
He offered his hand and a friendly, low wattage smile. A smart move, Elizabeth thought, one possibly based on experience; she suspected that this woman would not be amused by a charm offensive. Nor was she likely to be very impressed by his immaculate blues or silver wings, although Elizabeth had to admit that John Sheppard wore them well.
Larance did seem to soften ever so slightly as she shook his hand. "Light bird," she commented, giving no indication that she knew full well how improbable attaining that rank had been for him. "Congratulations"
"Oh, naturally they know each other," Rodney muttered, not quite inaudibly. "The secret society of the attractive"
Elizabeth strongly considered doing him bodily harm. When the SGC had looked into Larance's records and discovered that she and John had crossed paths before, they'd banked on that small amount of familiarity working to their advantage. So, of course, Rodney just had to blithely trample on whatever goodwill they'd just established.
Judging by John's expression, he planned to make the scientist pay for the quip as soon as Larance's back was turned. "Did you get tired of us pole patrol folks, or are you moonlighting'?" he asked her.
"Multitasking, not moonlighting." Larance faced Elizabeth and Daniel as she explained. "One of my duties is vetting personnel for winter postings at McMurdo. Not everyone is psychologically suited for an Antarctic tour, and the last thing anyone needs is a person with pathological tendencies stuck in an enclosed area with limited outlets for aggression. There's a very rigorous screening process. Colonel Sheppard passed my gauntlet some years ago." She studied the others, waiting.
Daniel answered the implied question. "There have been a handful of instances, on classified projects, where personnel have been vetted through different channels."
"In fact, I was stationed down there for months without being subjected to any-" Belatedly, Rodney seemed to realize he'd just hung a metaphorical target on himself.
The profiler contemplated him, looking unmoved. "Just as well. I'm not sure I would've signed off on sending you to Antarctica even on a penguin-watching pleasure cruise."
Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw Radek fail miserably in his attempt to mask his amusement, while Rodney's eyes grew huge. Before his indignant sputtering could coalesce into actual words, Larance held up a hand. "Don't bother critiquing my bedside manner. They don't pay me to have one. I'm a forensic psychologist, not a therapist. My job is to climb inside the heads of humanity's honest to God monsters, not to hold people's hands and tell them that Mommy and Daddy are the source of all their problems."
Abruptly, Rodney closed his mouth. Elizabeth noticed John concealing a faint smile and wondered what he'd thought of Larance when they'd first met, whether or not he'd liked or respected her. Sometimes it was hard to tell with him. After all, she wouldn't have predicted that he and Rodney would get along.
"This cult of Lilith you mentioned," Larance said, glancing over at Lam and the team as they secured the first body inside a coffin-like container. "You're not actually suggesting that one or more of its members was on an Antarctic mission, are you'? Cult members have distinct personality traits that even your `different channels' of screening would have flagged."
Daniel delicately sidestepped the question. "How familiar are you with biologically related cult behavior'?"
"If you mean the use of bioweapons by cult groups, very. Ever heard of the Rajneeshees?"
The name meant nothing to Elizabeth, nor did it seem to jog any memories for the others.
"They had issues with the court in Wasco County, Oregon, and tried to prevent residents from voting in the 1984 election by mass poisoning with Salmonella typhimurium. Over seven hundred people were sickened, none fatally. Provided some rich subject matter for my dissertation." Larance folded her arms in a thoughtful, rather than defensive, gesture. "Then there's Aleph-you may remember them as Aum Shinriko."
"Sarin gas on the Tokyo subway, right?" John recalled. "Sometime in the mid nineties?"
"Among other attacks. The group is less powerful in its current incarnation but still very much in existence. Before his arrest, the sect leader, a man named Asahara, had virtually unlimited funds and a self-proclaimed mandate to wipe out a significant percentage of the world's population."
Elizabeth had conditioned herself to accept, if not understand, horrors on a planetary scale, but it was still hard to imagine what could possess a person to attempt such unspeakable acts. Anubis had taken his shot at Earth, of course, and countless Pegasus civilizations had fallen prey to the insatiable Wraith-but she had never truly been able to comprehend the process by which human beings could become utterly convinced that their purpose was to destroy their own kind.
A psychologist had once assured her that that was largely because she wasn't a psychopathic mass murderer.
Still, she was beginning to get a glimpse of what made Rebecca Larance tick. The FBI agent's demeanor might be abrasive, but she at least had some insight into what drove such people, and she was willing to do whatever was needed to combat them. Elizabeth recognized and admired that kind of determination.