Infiltrator t2-1

by S. M. Stirling

  Dieter gave a cry of loathing and shot again and again, but the mutilated thing didn’t so much as glance back at him.

  BRACK!

  He hadn’t even noticed Sarah’s son coming up behind him; some detached part of his mind told him that was a sign he was going into shock, a mental fugue state.

  The heavy slug slammed the Terminator over on what was left of its back. John’s slight teenage form swayed back with the recoil of the massive weapon; even then, Dieter could admire the boy’s marksmanship, firing from the hip like that.

  Of course, if he fired from the shoulder standing up, it would knock him over.

  BRACK! The vicious blue sparks of a hardpoint on steel, and the “skull” dropped from its severed metal spine. BRACK. This time the muzzle was close enough to the face of the killer machine that the muzzle blast burned more flesh from the eye. The bullet went in through the orbit and punched out through the rear, sending the metal bouncing into the night.

  “Well,” John said. “So—that proof enough for you?”

  Dieter looked at him, and at Sarah, climbing groggily to her feet, blood running from small cuts on her arms and skirt stripped away by the blasts. He looked

  down at the… can’t call it a corpse, he thought. It was never alive.

  “That,” he said, “is more proof than I wanted to have.”

  John laid the empty weapon down and made a grab. The puppy dodged past him, threw itself at the remains of the Terminator, and began to worry at its leg. The boy—young man—scooped it up.

  “And now you see why I can’t have a dog,” he said, and buried his face for a moment in the animal’s fur.

  *

  Marco sat in the car, whacking the occasional insect and waiting. His stomach felt like it was wrapped around a jagged rock. He wanted to pace, but didn’t dare lest it interfere with his passenger’s equipment. And for the first time in his life he actually wanted to smoke.

  He checked his watch. It had only been about fifteen minutes. It just felt like it should be midnight. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

  Marco heard a sudden pop like a firecracker and he jumped. Then there was silence. He stared expectantly into the darkness as though he would be seeing fireworks any moment now. A flash and a hollow boom sound. Then there was another series of pops, and off to the side a bright light. It held steady, there were more pops and the light gradually began to diminish.

  “Shots?” Marco said out loud, and instinctively knew he was right.

  He got out of the car and moved toward the ravine, then stopped, uncertain what

  to do. He was unarmed and now there seemed to be shots coming from all directions. Cassetti shifted from foot to foot anxiously.

  Then he thought he should get the car started and be ready for a getaway. The big guy looked like he knew how to take care of himself. He’d come barreling down that ravine any second now, ready to jump in the car and make their escape.

  Marco got into the car and carefully turned it around so that it faced the track. He sat in the driver’s seat, but he was so wound up his butt barely touched the cushions. He stared into the darkness, waiting, listening.

  “C’mon,” Cassetti urged. “Let’s go! Cut your losses and get out of there, man!”

  Then there was a blast that blew a ball of flame over the low hill that hid the Krieger estancia from view. It was followed by complete silence.

  Gradually insect noises returned and Marco let out his breath in a great gasp. It was time to go, he realized. If his passenger had survived that, he’d have arrived by now. Marco set the car into careful motion, the lights still out, finding his way down the track by the scant light of the moon.

  He didn’t turn the headlights on until he was a mile down the actual road and then he sped up to a downright dangerous forty. His mind ran around and around like a cricket in a jar. Should he stop in Villa Hayes and tell the police? Surely they would arrest him. What were you doing out there? they’d ask. And what could he say? Oh, I was just bringing Senor von Rossbach’s cousin out there to spy on him. Really? And why did you do that?

  It wouldn’t do, he realized as he drove past the town. Someone had died out there tonight. There was nothing he could do to change that fact. The only thing he could change by telling the authorities would be his own future, and not for the better.

  He would tell his client. And then that would be it. She’d have to get someone else from now on. He hadn’t hired on for this. For all he knew the big man was supposed to blow him away, too.

  Marco’s mind went still at that. He remembered Griego’s mysterious absence from his office—the intimidating man’s too pat explanation for it. He gasped and stepped down on the accelerator, certain to his soul that he’d just escaped with his life.

  Suddenly the restaurant business didn’t look so bad.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  SARAH CONNOR’S ESTANCIA,

  PARAGUAY: THE PRESENT

  Sarah stroked the puppy’s velvet ears and laughed when he began to wag his tail and tried to lick her; a wiggling puppy amid the stink of burn propellant and scorched flesh.

  “Actually this little guy is a good argument for why we always ought to have a dog,” she said. “When it comes to Terminators, there’s no early-warning system more effective.”

  “We can’t take him with us, Mom,” John said. He shifted the little dog’s weight.

  “Much as I’d like to. He’s too young and he’s completely untrained. He’d be a danger to us and to himself.”

  “I know.” She leaned in and nuzzled the puppy, who redoubled his efforts to lick everything in sight. With a sigh she turned to Dieter. “You’ll have to take him home with you. And, if you would be so kind, please take my horse, Linda, as well.

  Looking over, she saw that he had a hitch attached to his car.

  “Would you mind getting the trailer set up while John and I police the area here?” she asked.

  “Police… ?” Dieter looked confused.

  “We have to break that up into unrecognizable pieces,” she explained, pointing to the defunct Terminator. “Then we’ll burn the house down around it.”

  “You might want to hurry, then,” Dieter said with a nod toward the house. “It looks like the fire in the living room is taking hold.”

  “Shit!” Sarah said. “John, get our stuff out of there. I’ll take care of this.”

  ” We’ll take care of this,” Dieter amended. He noticed that John put the dog down and jogged toward the house without a word. Good training, he thought, impressed by the young man’s discipline. It was as if the faces of the people he’d first met were peeling away like masks, and beneath were… well, people pretty much like these, ready to fight or run for their lives at any moment.

  Without asking, Sarah reached over, unbuckled, and pulled off Dieter’s belt, yanking it from around his waist in one smooth move, startling him. Then she knelt and put it through Harold’s collar, making a leash, which she then handed to Dieter.

  Von Rossbach laughed. “I’ll just put him in the car,” he said, and led the puppy away. He looked over his shoulder. “I’ll be back.”

  Sarah nodded absently. She went over to the woodpile and picked up the ax, then turned to the Terminator’s severed legs, still jittering strangely on the ground.

  “Damn,” she said softly, and lofted the ax.

  By the time Dieter returned she had the feet and lower legs separated and was working on the hips. He had brought a crowbar from the tool kit he kept in his trunk and a massive pair of bolt cutters. He placed his foot on one of the lower-leg pieces and began to work the crowbar, wrenching until it came apart.

  The flesh and blood made it a gruesome task, despite the metal clearly visible beneath. He fought down his disgust and kept doggedly working the pieces apart. If Sarah could do it, so could he.

  John came out in a few minutes and dropped a couple of cases. He was wearing a huge backpack; he swung it down to the ground with a grun
t and then picked up the separated pieces of the Terminator, trotting back into the house with them.

  Sarah looked up as he went in, her face grim. She evaluated the progress of the fire and redoubled her efforts at chopping the Terminator apart.

  “Here,” Dieter said, reaching for the ax. “I think I’ll make more progress on that than you can. Why don’t you start with the bolt cutters.”

  She nodded and handed it over without a word. He was right, and they had the fire to consider; time for discussion was a luxury. John came out and gathered a second load. He was back in a much shorter time.

  “We’ll have to throw the rest in,” he said, shouting over the roar of the fire.

  Sarah just nodded and kept on with her work. John hefted the crowbar and went looking for the head. He slid one end of the bar into an eye socket and lifted it up to examine it. Two rounds had gone completely through the skull and the components rattled around inside; some mangled pieces fell out through the holes. The problem with this thing was that it was a very solid piece of workmanship. Breaking it up was going to be a stone bitch.

  “I think you’ll get further using this,” Dieter said from beside him.

  He offered the ax and John took it. He checked the edge and found it very chipped and dull. He gave von Rossbach a lopsided smile.

  “Maybe so, but not much further.”

  “There’s a trick to it,” Dieter said. “Put it down and I’ll show you.”

  John lowered the head to the ground and worked the crowbar out of they eye socket. Then he made an inviting gesture and stood back.

  Von Rossbach lifted the ax, the muscles on his arms bulging, and brought it

  down lightly, just touching the Terminator’s skull, lifted it again, and brought it down, as though making sure of his aim. John watched him attentively as Dieter brought the ax up a final time and brought it down with an unstoppable, irresistible strength that split the metal as though it were made of foil. He raised the ax again and split it crosswise, breaking the teeth into unrecognizable white splinters.

  Then together they pried the remaining shreds of metal apart. John gathered up the escaped plastic bits and components from inside the skull, using part of the head as a bowl to hold them. Then he got as close to the burning house as he could and flung it into the flames like a Frisbee.

  Dieter looked around; there was nothing left but a few bloodstains on the ground, and the bacteria and ants and monsoon rains would take care of those.

  He shuddered, feeling slightly nauseous for a second.

  “Reaction,” Sarah said from beside him.

  He looked down at her. The fake glasses were gone and he could see her eyes clearly for once, ” fa,” he said. “I could use a comforting hug.” He opened his big arms and turned toward her.

  Sarah looked at him in disbelief, momentarily disgusted at the thought of hugging what she’d just torn apart. Then she looked at his very human eyes and smiled, then laughed. “Of course,” she said, and stepped into his arms. “We Connors provide full-service disasters.”

  She put her own arms around him and rested her cheek against his solid chest.

  One hand patted his back, making circles, then patting, the way she had with

  John when he was a baby. Dieter rested his check against her hair and she felt, rather than heard, him sigh.

  We’ve been attacked by a Terminator, my house is burning down, and we have to flee Paraguay. But this is rather nice, she thought. Dieter’s big hands began to imitate her own, gentle circles and pats. Am I going into shock? After a moment she decided she wasn’t. After a longer moment she decided to let go of von Rossbach and stand alone. But she didn’t. Instead she closed her eyes and sighed.

  Von Rossbach moved his head to look down at the woman in his arms. He stroked her hair and Sarah lifted her head to look up at him. She lowered her eyes, smiling slightly.

  “Comforted?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes,” he said.

  “Guys?” John said.

  They both moved apart as though he’d thrown water on them.

  “Yeah,” Sarah said, nodding. “You will take Linda?” she said to von Rossbach.

  “Linda?”

  “The horse,” John explained with elaborate patience.

  “Of course,” Dieter said. “You two can come to my place so that we can make plans.”

  “I don’t think so,” Sarah said. “I think it’s best we disappear now.” She turned away. “I’ll get Linda into the trailer.”

  He grabbed her arm and she spun, yanking her arm from his grip.

  “I want to help,” Dieter said, willing her to believe him. Feral as she seemed to be going that belief was going to come hard. “You can’t just go off half-cocked.

  You need to plan this and I have the resources to help you.”

  “Dieter,” John cut in, keeping a wary eye on both of them, “I know you mean well, but you do realize that they probably found us because of you.”

  Von Rossbach’s head snapped around to look at him. “You do realize that don’t you?”

  “I told no one,” Dieter insisted. “I denied everything to my colleagues. They didn’t find you through me, I swear it.”

  Sarah and John exchanged a look, and she gave a slight jerk of her head toward the barn. John hesitated and she gave him the look. He rolled his eyes and moved off; after a few yards she and Dieter could hear muttering.

  Now Sarah and Dieter looked at each other. She lifted her hand to brush back her hair, then dropped it when she saw the caked blood on her fingers.

  “Are you really that naive?” Sarah asked. She put her hands on her hips. “Maybe you are. After all, you’ve never had to fight machines that think before.” Sarah drew in a deep breath and then let it out, her eyes on the fire for a moment. “You put my name out there. They’d be watching for that.” She looked up at him.

  “And, obviously, they can interface with other machines like no human being.

  Maybe this one was just sent down to check out the possibility that you had seen me. But it isn’t going home, and that, I assure you, will alert them to our whereabouts.” She held up a finger. “And let’s not forget that Victor wasn’t too happy with either one of us when he left Villa Hayes the other night. Who knows who he’s told.”

  Von Rossbach drew his mouth into a tight line and, frowning, stared at the bloody dirt beneath his feet. She was probably right. Worse, he didn’t know the enemy the way she did. But she had learned and so could he. He nodded once and looked at her.

  “I am going to help you,” he said. “And I am going with you. I have contacts that you can use and, forgive me—this isn’t a criticism—I have credibility that you do not.” He shook his head. “Don’t throw away a good tool before you’ve even examined it, Sarah. I can help you.” He looked toward the barn. “And him.”

  Sarah’s expression was troubled. But all she said was, “Why don’t you drive your car down to the barn so we can hitch you up.” Then she turned and walked away.

  He would have preferred a direct answer, but he decided to believe that she was thinking it over. By the time the trailer was hitched and the horse loaded, she would have an answer for him. It had better be the right one, he thought.

  Because I can be just as stubborn as she is.

  “Dieter, we can’t go to your estancia,” Sarah began after shutting Linda into the trailer.

  “Sarah,” he interrupted, not letting her continue.

  “Of course we can’t go to your place,” John cut in, with the eye-rolling exasperation that only a sixteen-year-old can show for adult obtuseness. “First of all, we can’t drag a whole bunch more people into this without someone getting hurt. Second, we are like, wanted fugitives, on the run again. That doesn’t stop, Dieter. That just goes on and on and on. Do you really want to taint your pristine reputation by associating with us?”

  “I want to help you,” von Rossbach said. “You need my help. The entire world and the human race in ge
neral need my help, if what you have said is true.”

  “We’ve done okay until now,” John said, sounding cocky.

  “You did okay until your enemies came back and started up the Skynet project at Cyberdyne.”

  Dieter stared at him with no expression on his face and John shuddered at how much he looked like the enemy.

  “There’s a good chance that I can get you in there,” Dieter said. “Their facility is on an army base, underground. And they’ll have backup, Sarah, just like the last time. I can help you find those locations.” He leaned in close to her. “You need me, Sarah.”

  She looked at him and they stared into each other’s eyes for a long time. “You’d follow us if I said no, wouldn’t you?” she asked.

  “And I’d find you.” He straightened. “I was the best the Sector had, Sarah.” He held out his hands. “Use me.”

  She gave a single, explosive laugh. “How could any girl resist that offer?” she said.

  “Mo-om!”

  She held up her hand and John subsided, reluctantly.

  “Look,” Dieter said, “I know you can’t just come over and stay in my guest room. But there’s a cottage on my property that you can use. It’s primitive, but it should be safe for one night. Especially since it’s over a mile from the house.

  Tonight we can discuss our options and tomorrow we’ll hit the road.”

  Sarah raised her brows, looked up at her house, burning merrily, glanced at John, whose arms were folded across his chest and whose frown spoke of his resistance, then smiled at Dieter.

  “Sure,” she said. “Sounds like a plan.” She looked around, then gestured toward his Land Rover. “Just let us grab our gear and we’ll go.”

  LOS ANGELES: THE PRESENT

  Frowning, Tarissa Dyson put down the phone. She’d been disconcerted by the disconnect message she’d gotten when she called Jordan. But she was more troubled by the fact that, according to the phone company, he no longer seemed to have a number in Delaware.

  Either he’d moved or he really, really didn’t want to talk to her. He could be using a cell phone, I suppose, she thought. That way he could stay in touch with friends and work. Aha! Tarissa thought, and started dialing again. It didn’t