General Hammond rubbed a weary hand across his face, digging the heel of his hand into his eye, trying to push the exhaustion away. He was tired. He was frustrated. He was worried.

It boiled down to that one final item: he was worried.

The last image of Jack was burned into the pathways of his mind, forever etched as if with a branding iron. That was not the way he wanted to remember his friend, his comrade-in-arms.

Glancing at the time, he realized that it was still relatively early—only 1800 hours. Major Carter and the rest of SG1 should have been airborne three hours ago. He had been hoping to update them on the way, but so far they’d had problems getting information.

While the ISP had finally opened its records to them, there hadn’t been much to learn from them. The account was assigned to a Michael Nichols, who had been dead for five years. The address listed in Bigfork, Montana was no longer accurate, although the account was current. Someone was paying for it—in cash—several months in advance. Usage was not high, according to the company, but since there had been no problems and it had been paid, they had no reason to doubt the validity of the account—or the motives of its customer.

They’d reached a dead-end there. Michael Nichols’ wife Linda had died a year after her husband in a horrific traffic accident in Chicago—the car exploding upon impact. Their son, Wayne, was presumed deceased as well. He had never appeared at his mother’s funeral and it was assumed that he had died along with his mother. There had been barely enough physical evidence to positively identify Wayne’s mother and no one had looked any further. Wayne owned no property and had never applied for a job in the United States. He had no driver’s license. He was simply nowhere to be found.

But someone was keeping the account active.

The phone’s shrill ring jolted Hammond from his musings. "Hammond."

"Sir, this is the communications office upstairs in NORAD. I have a Sheriff Lane on the line. He said he’s calling in regards to a bulletin issued by the Air Force earlier today."

"You can put him through," Hammond said, pausing as the line connected. "This is General Hammond."

"General, this is Sheriff Lane."

"What can I do for you today, Sheriff?" Hammond knew his tone was curt, but he didn’t care.

"I saw the bulletin come over this morning regarding a Stephan Selig. I think we may have found him for you. They fished a body out of the water here at Flathead Lake a few hours ago. He hadn’t been dead long, from the looks of things, and he still had all of his identification. Either he fell into the water or he was murdered. The coroner’s office hasn’t had the chance to determine that yet. I thought you’d want to know."

"Sheriff, you might have made a big difference in our investigation." Hammond pulled out a pad and pen. "Now where did you say this was?"

"The body was pulled from Flathead Lake, about two hours north of Missoula," he replied.

"What’s the nearest airport? I have some people en-route, but I was going to send them to Fort Helena."

"I know Fort Helena well, but Glacier Park International Airport would be the closest. Helena is a good distance away from here. Kalispell is only a short drive from Bigfork."

"Bigfork?" Hammond asked, the name of the city clicking with the information he had gathered before. Things were coming together.

"Yeah, the body was found along the shore nearest to Bigfork."

Hammond knew that time was limited. "Sheriff, I’m going to need you to coordinate with my officers when they arrive. We’re searching for a missing Air Force Colonel. We suspect that he has been taken somewhere in Montana. Selig was known to be involved."

"Just tell me where and when and I’ll be there, General. Anything I can do to help, I will," Lane said, freely offering his services without hesitation. "When do you expect them to arrive?"

"Soon," Hammond said checking his watch. "I’m going to contact them now and I’ll put them in touch with you. Do you have a number where you can be reached?"

"Sure. You can use my cell phone. The number is area code 406, 257-9753," Lane replied, helpfully pausing to allow Hammond time to copy it down.

"Thank you, Sheriff. You’ve been a big help," Hammond said, gratitude evident in his voice.

Lane’s voice was solemn. "It’s not a problem, General. I know how things are. I’ve been in the Air Force myself and we take care of our own."

"Yes, we do. Major Carter will be in touch as soon as they touch down."

"Good. I’ll try to do whatever I can."

"It’s your jurisdiction, Sheriff. We’re just trying to find the Colonel."

"I know, General. I’ll call if we find anything else."

"Thank again."

He sighed in relief and pressed an inside line, dialing an extension he knew too well.

"Doctor Fraiser."

"Doctor, can you be ready in fifteen minutes?" Hammond asked without preamble.

"I can be ready in ten. Where am I going?" Janet’s voice was strictly professional, but he could sense the undercurrent of anxiety.

"Bigfork, Montana, Doctor. And bring whoever you need. We have a line on Colonel O’Neill. There will be a car waiting for you topside."

"Will do, Sir."

Hanging up from that call, Hammond stabbed a third line, connecting him with the communications center in NORAD.

"Hoskins."

"This is General Hammond. I need to get in contact with an Air Force Gulfstream en-route to Helena, Montana. Can you do that for me?"

"Give me a minute, Sir, and I can patch you through. Hold please," Hoskins said. Hammond could hear the clicking of computer keys through the phone as he waited for Hoskins to return to the line.

"Sir, I’m locating the plane as we speak. Who should I ask for?"

"Major Carter."

"Very well, Sir. It’ll only be another minute. I’ve gotten confirmation of the signal. I’m going to put you on hold for a minute and then patch you through."

"That’s fine. Thank you," Hammond said, settling back into his chair, his muscles relaxing for the first time in several hours. The sound of Carter’s voice startled him.

"General?"

"Major, you’re going to have to change your flight plan. Where are you?"

"Uh, I’m not sure," Carter said, her voice trailing off. "I’m sure if you give me the information we can make the appropriate course changes, Sir."

"Good. I need you to land at Glacier Park International Airport. Doctor Fraiser will be meeting you there shortly after you touch down I imagine. I want you to meet up with Sheriff Lane. Let me give you his cell phone number," Hammond said, leaning forward, squinting a little at the digits before him on the pad.

"One minute, Sir," Carter said and Hammond could hear the shuffling of paper through the phone line. "Go ahead, Sir."

"406-257-9753. Sheriff Lane called after the bulletin for Selig was posted nationwide. Apparently, Selig is dead."

"What?" Carter’s loud and sharp reply nearly deafened him. "Sorry, Sir," she apologized at a more reasonable level. "How did that happen?"

"The body was found in Flathead Lake, near Bigfork, Montana. That information also ties to something else we’ve been able to uncover. The ISP address was linked to a Michael Nichols. Although he is deceased, the account has remained active."

"Automatic bill paying service?" Carter suggested.

"No. The account is paid in cash, several months in advance and usually for a year at a time."

"Any family?"

"The wife is dead and the son, Wayne, is missing, presumed dead."

"It’s probably the son," Carter surmised.

Hammond nodded, but added his vocal confirmation for Carter’s benefit. "That’s what we think, but we have no records on him at all. It’s as he vanished after he turned eighteen."

"The locals might know more. Thank you, Sir. This is great news."

Hammond paused, his voice heavy with emotion. "Just find him, Major."

"We will, Sir. The Colonel’s counting on us and we won’t let him down."

"I know you won’t. Hammond out."

Hanging up the phone, he closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He knew he had a number of more phone calls to make, to arrange for Doctor Fraiser’s transport to Montana, but it could wait a minute. He needed to pause, to get his emotions under control that were threatening to break and he couldn’t allow that to happen. His people were so close, but would it be enough? Would they arrive in time?

Only time would tell.