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"After the subway attack," Larance was saying, "Congress broke down the FBI's door, wanting to know how Asahara had been able to assemble a worldwide network of operatives without drawing attention from Western law enforcement or intel agencies. My bosses at the Bureau had to explain that Aum Shinriko was a chartered religious organization, protected by civil rights legislation and constitutional limitations in both the U.S. and Japan. A frustratingly common roadblock to investigations of cult groups."

"A number of those rules changed after 9/11," Elizabeth pointed out.

"Which is why I'm willing to concede the possibility that you actually might have some evidence to support your virus theory." Her gaze moved over the SGC visitors, catching briefly on John, before she lifted an eyebrow at Rodney. From his abashed, slightly sullen look, he seemed to have realized she'd been baiting him earlier. Still, they evidently hadn't won her over.

"Sir'?"

The CDC containers had been loaded onto wheeled carriers, and the team stood beside them, waiting on an order. John glanced at Larance, questioning.

"If you're determined to take them and have the ME's permission, I don't really have the authority to stop you, do IT' she said archly.

"Maybe not, but you could raise hell with either the county officials or the local television news, and I'm hoping you won't." John, as usual, was trying to be a straight shooter, even under the circumstances. Elizabeth figured it was as good a tactic as any. "Look," he continued, "we're on the same side here. We just want to figure this thing out and stop it from happening again. There's no reason for us to work against each other."

It was a clearly sincere sentiment, and it appeared to have the desired effect, more so after he weathered Larance's probing stare without a flinch. After a moment, she replied, "Let me tag along to whichever base you're calling home these days, to find out more about this ice core virus theory ofyours, Colonel, and I might believe that."

"Done," said John, only darting a look at his companions in hindsight. Daniel nodded, and Elizabeth had to agree. They'd do the best they could to safeguard the Stargate program and the truth, but this woman had knowledge and experience they needed, and stonewalling her would get them nowhere.

"Then let's get going."

John gave a silent affirmative signal to the Marines and walked over to hold the door open for them to move the bodies out to their vehicle. If Larance noticed that they handled the containers with the precision of an honor guard, she didn't comment on it, picking up her coat from a nearby chair and following them out of the room. Elizabeth and the others trailed behind the procession as it headed for the building's outer doors.

A pair of coroner's assistants passed them in the corridor. As soon as they were out of earshot, Larance asked, point blank, "Are you really worried about contagion?"

With only a beat of hesitation, Daniel admitted, "Not terribly."

"Then why pack up the bodies?"

"There's every reason to exercise precautions against residual traces of the virus," said Lam, sticking doggedly to the cover story.

"So I'm supposed to tell anyone who asks that the Bureau is on the lookout for a cult responsible for several ritualistic killings through the use of a progeria-type virus. I assume the virus's point of origin is information not intended for public consumption?"

Almost before Daniel tendered the Antarctic cover story, Larance stopped walking and swiveled to face the group. "I want to be clear before we go any further. I don't entirely buy your explanation of what's going on here. Right now, I'm in `go along to get along' mode, because this case is too big for one person and I'm not stupid enough to refuse help. Just be aware that if you try to play me, I'll be on the phone very fast and this will get very ugly." She looked at John again. "I'm putting some trust in an analysis I made four years ago. I hope it was accurate then and is still valid now."

John said nothing, but his gaze was as steady as hers. Out of the profiler's field ofview, Elizabeth and Daniel exchanged a glance. Maybe the SGC's gamble had paid off after all.

A blast of winter air and flurry of snow chilled them when Lam opened the building doors. As the Marines began to carefully slide their cargo into the back of the waiting vehicle, Larance pulled on her coat and turned to Daniel. "Okay. You show me yours and I'll show you mine. Tell me what Adam's first wife has to do with all this."

Chapter seven

Daniel swiped his ID card through the reader attached to the elevator that would take them down to the lowest level of the Cheyenne Mountain complex. Behind him, McKay was describing to Rebecca Larance in minute detail what would have happened to him if the air freshener he'd found in the SUV had in fact contained twenty percent real lemon juice as advertised.

The elevator doors opened, and McKay, oblivious to Dr. Larance's pained expression, kept up his running commentary of symptoms as he stepped in.

Catching Elizabeth Weir's eye, Daniel said, "Talking is pretty much his default state, isn't it?"

"That is so," mumbled Radek Zelenka, stepping in behind them and turning to face the front. "The total time would be greatly reduced if he would stop while eating."

"Do you think I can't hear that?" Forced to choose a single target for his glare, McKay selected Daniel. "Do you have any idea what it's like to live with the sort of allergies that-"

"Yes, now that you mention it," Daniel interrupted, pressing the button.

"Really?" McKay regarded him with a look that suggested he'd found some common ground on which they could bond. Terrific.

While allergies were no longer a problem for Daniel, he wasn't in the mood to remind McKay of the reason. As soon as the non-cleared member of their little gang was out of hearing range, the scientist would no doubt want to regale him with tales of his own recent brush with Ascension. Well, `close' only counted in horseshoes and hand grenades, as Jack would say.

Thankfully, the elevator doors opened before long, and Zelenka stepped out. Larance, giving McKay as wide a berth as possible, followed and fell into step beside Elizabeth. "I have to ask," she said, studying the utilitarian tunnels with intense curiosity, "what roles could an expert in international relations and an archeologist play within the U.S. Air Force?"

McKay only got as far as opening his mouth before Elizabeth beat him to the punch. "That's a question best answered during the briefing." She offered Larance a smile, as if to reassure her that they weren't being deliberately evasive. It didn't convince Daniel much more than it appeared to convince the FBI agent.

No one involved in this situation lacked for questions at the moment, to be sure. Daniel wasn't completely certain even he had all the available facts, limited though they were, just yet. He'd been playing catch-up on most of the events of the past few months when Carolyn Lam, who'd been keeping an eye on Carson Beckett's research, had dropped this bombshell with her usual no-nonsense approach. As unsettling as he'd found the prospect of humans carrying fragments of the iratus gene, Carolyn had explained that it was no different from having fragments of the ATA gene or, for that matter, the DNA for any one of six thousand currently known genetic disorders, ranging from cystic fibrosis to sickle cell anemia. Possessing a flawed gene didn't automatically cause a disease to manifest; that took a rare confluence of events, such as a series of environmental triggers, or a child inheriting two copies of the gene.

Given that detail, McKay's anxiety attack on the road had seemed over the top, until the scientist had reminded them that he'd received therapy to trigger the ATA gene. So far, however, they'd lucked out on that score. Both Beckett and Carolyn had searched long and hard for a link between the ATA and iratus genes and found none, aside from the fact that they'd been introduced into the human population simultaneously. There was no reason to expect Wraithlike attributes to start appearing within the gene-activated Atlantis expedition.