Infiltrator t2-1

by S. M. Stirling

  She watched him setting up with a closed expression on her face and he began to feel impatient. Though he understood her concerns, he also knew that she should

  let him lead for now. How to convince her of the Tightness of this was going to be… difficult, he could see.

  “Where had you planned to go?” he asked, rolling out his sleeping bag.

  Though they’d agreed to accept his help, Dieter’s presence troubled Sarah. First of all, he’d always worked for the authorities—the enemy— and if push came to shove she wasn’t sure which way he’d jump.

  Hell, I’ll bet even he’s not sure what he’d do if we have to get… unorthodox.

  Second, he was used to being in charge, but then, so was she. I do not want a discussion about who’s giving and who’s taking orders every time we have to make a decision. Especially if that decision had to be made fast. Especially if that decision might involve damaging cops or soldiers. Not that she’d ever intentionally killed anybody herself. But there are times, she thought grimly, when you have to be mentally prepared to go to the next level. So that left her with two questions, would he surrender control, and could he be trusted?

  “Look,” she said out loud, “if we let you come with us you have to understand that your whole life has changed…”

  “Sarah,” he interrupted, “after what I’ve seen tonight my whole life has already changed. They have to be stopped. That’s the mission. The mission comes first.”

  Sarah studied him for a long moment. Then she pursed her lips and looked at John. He gave her no help, just looked back at her blankly.

  “Actually,” she said, “we have two missions. One”—she held up a finger—“and

  least important, try to keep Skynet from being built. Unfortunately, judging by the way it keeps coming back at us, that may be an impossible task. One thing I’m learning is that changing how things are supposed to be is like pushing on a rubber wall. It might take time, but it will return to its original shape, or close to it. Two,” she held up a second finger, “keep John alive. This is vital. Not just because he’s my son, but because he may be the only thing that saves humanity from the machines should we fail to stop Cyberdyne.”

  “I understand,” he said.

  “That means,” Sarah continued, “that ultimately /make the final decisions on everything that we do. Can you accept that?”

  “I suppose if John can, I can,” he said cheerfully.

  Sarah frowned at the implications of that remark and moved closer to him on hands and knees until they were almost nose to nose.

  “Understand, Dieter. Everything that I have done for the last sixteen-and-then-some years has been to give John the skills to be the leader he needs to be. John is our only hope. Not me, not you—John. If necessary, we scrap the mission, go into hiding and let Judgment Day happen. I lost sight of that once,” she said. “I won’t do it again.”

  She closed her eyes and sighed heavily. “What I’m saying is, sometimes I’ll let you lead and sometimes I’ll ask you to follow. Those times might come up unpredictably. Can you make the jump between them?”

  “Yes,” he said with certainty. “I’m with you. I recognize that you’re more

  experienced with this… situation than I am. I’m not such an egotist that I won’t let you tell me what to do, Sarah. All I ask is that you respect my opinion.”

  He’d never shared leadership before, but if she was willing to be flexible, so was he.

  “All right,” she said. Sarah settled herself more comfortably. “So, our goal, I think we can all agree,” she looked at John, who gave her a brief smile, “is to get to the U.S. and stop Cyberdyne.” She turned to Dieter. “So what have you got for us?”

  Dieter shook out a map.

  “We drive to Sao Paulo in Brazil,” he said. “I have a contact there who can make us forged documents. Then we fly to Colombia and from there to Grand Cayman.”

  “Cool!” John said eagerly. He hadn’t seen the ocean in what felt like a lifetime.

  Sarah looked at von Rossbach, puzzled. “Okay,” she said, “why the Caymans?”

  “Hack in and trace Cyberdyne’s financial records to find their remote sites,” John said, surprising them both. “The ones that are used as off-site data storage for Cyberdyne’s most sensitive material. Eliminate those and go for the main facility!” He and Dieter did a high five.

  “But that will alert them,” Sarah objected. “Whoever Skynet sent back will know immediately what we’re up to. And while we can only strike these places one at a time, they must have the resources to cover all of them, as well as beefing up

  security at the main site. I say go for Cyberdyne immediately, then we can pick off the storage sites at our leisure.”

  “Surely, when the Terminator doesn’t return, whoever sent it will be alerted that you’re coming, yes?” Dieter asked. At her reluctant nod he continued, “So they’ll be waiting for you. But they might not be protecting these storage dumps. Hit a few of those and they might begin to spread their forces thin enough to give us a better chance at the main facility. Also we can perhaps learn more about that facility from these same storage dumps, and the more we learn about that the greater the possibility of success.”

  Sarah leaned her chin on her fists and thought.

  “Yes,” she said at last. “That makes sense. Especially since the cards seem to be stacked against us this time.” She sat up straight, a rueful expression on her face.

  “A buried facility on an army base. That’ll be a pretty tough nut to crack.”

  “It will,” von Rossbach agreed. “But let’s take it one step at a time. Maybe we can hack into their system and do some damage that way, too. We’ll see what we can do. I have friends in strange places, Sarah. You’ll see; you’ll be glad you let me tag along.”

  Sarah gave him a noncommittal smile and thought, I had better be or I’ll take you down in a white flash. You won’t even see it coming. She sensed a disturbing lack of conviction behind the thought. .Trouble is, I like this man. He wasn’t like the flakes, nuts, and murderous eccentrics she’d associated with in her wilder days. In fact, he was as close to being a solid citizen as a trained killer could get.

  And I suspect he likes me.

  “All right,” she said aloud. “I concede that it might be a good idea to eliminate these remote sites Cyberdyne probably has. Although, I’ll say it now, touching Cyberdyne’s computer system could lead them right to us.” Sarah looked Dieter in the eye.

  “But we can hack in from anywhere with a phone line. So, I repeat, why the Caymans?”

  “Because I think we’ll find those sites by studying Cyberdyne’s financial records,” Dieter explained. “Grand Cayman has over five hundred banks from all over the world. One of those is sure to handle Cyberdyne’s business. Being inspected from there might be less conspicuous.”

  Sarah looked doubtful.

  “Trust me on this, Sarah,” he said.

  She looked at him, considering.

  “Hey guys, it’s a long drive to the coast,” John suddenly pointed out. “I suggest we all turn in and get some sleep. Leaving before dawn would probably be a good idea.”

  Sarah smiled and got up. “I’ll be back,” she said, and headed out toward the lean-to.

  John and Dieter looked at each other.

  “Don’t sell my mother short, Dieter,” John said. “She knows a lot about this end

  of things. She kept us both alive and out of jail… well, mostly out of jail… for a long time.”

  Von Rossbach nodded. “I know she has her own resources, John.” He smiled.

  “This is going to be a learning experience for me.”

  “Not too painful, I hope,” John said with a grin.

  Dieter smiled slowly. “I think that will depend on your mother.”

  BRAZIL, ON THE ROAD: THE PRESENT

  It was exhausting—over twelve hundred miles over some very rough road to Sao Paulo, without stopping for anything but
bathroom breaks and an occasional meal. Sarah insisted that they push themselves. As far as she was concerned they were already playing catch-up.

  They could see the smudge of polluted air that announced the city’s presence from miles away across the pastures and coffee fields. Sao Paulo was an enormous city, bigger than New York, in fact, with a dirty collar of poverty around its outer edge. But when they saw its towers rising above the horizon they couldn’t help but smile.

  Once they entered the bustling city they searched for a mid-price hotel with parking and crashed for twelve hours straight.

  Next day they shopped for business-type clothing and resort wear— nothing they would ordinarily put on—and went to visit an old acquaintance of Dieter’s in the older section of town. Quiet low-slung buildings in the pastels and wrought iron

  that Brazilians had used to announce prosperity in the balmy days of the first coffee boom a hundred and twenty years ago.

  “Gilberto,” Dieter said, when a maid had shown them into a room dim and cluttered and cool, “meet my friends Suzanne and John. John, Suzanne, this is Gilberto Salbidrez, one of the best forgers in South America.”

  “You’re too kind,” Gilberto said, smiling around his cigarette. He was almost von Rossbach’s height, but rail thin and wrinkled beyond his sixty years. “Come in, sit down, tell me what you need.”

  “What makes you think we need something?” Dieter asked, grinning.

  ” Hombre!” Gilberto said, giving von Rossbach’s cheap, conservative tie a contemptuous flip. “You come to me in this ridiculous outfit and I’m supposed to think this is a social call?” He gave Sarah a wink. “Besides, the senora and I have done business before.”

  Sarah grinned at Dieter’s well-hidden surprise.

  “Hello, Senor Salbidrez,” she said, holding out her hand.

  “You come with a friend,” he said. Taking her hand, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You can call me Gilberto.” He turned back to von Rossbach. “So?”

  “We need passports that will get us into the United States, and health certificates that say we’ve had all our shots—”

  “And you want them the day before yesterday,” Gilberto said with a weary wave

  of one tobacco-stained hand. “So, are you a family?”

  “Better not,” Sarah said. “We might need the flexibility of being strangers or business partners.”

  Salbidrez tugged down the corners of his mouth and shrugged. “Up to mischief, then,” he said. “Okay, let’s get started. I can have them for you in twenty-four hours.”

  “Good,” von Rossbach said. “I also need someplace safe to stow my car.”

  Gilberto grimaced.

  “Okay. I have a friend who owns a parking garage. He’ll let you park it there and it will be safe.” He looked up at Dieter. “But it will cost you,” he warned.

  Dieter snorted. “Everything costs,” he said. “How much?”

  “For my friend,” Salbidrez shrugged, “Say a thousand a month. For me,” he gave von Rossbach a straight look, “I want ten thousand each for the passports.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Two thousand for the health certificates.”

  “A thousand for the health certificates,” Dieter countered. “We’re buying three so you’ll give an old friend a discount?” Gilberto made a pained face. “Besides, I happen to know an old friend gave you a lifetime supply of blank ones, so all you have to do is fill in the spaces.”

  The forger grinned and laughed until he coughed.

  “What about my starving children?” he asked.

  “I’ll give you five thousand for the passports if they’re Canadian,” von Rossbach said. “And if your children are starving you should give up cane-brandy and cigarettes so you can feed them.”

  Gilberto chuckled, careful not to set himself coughing again.

  “Five thousand isn’t enough for Canadian,” he said. “They’re very expensive.

  Canadian is very hard to get. Very easy to use. Canada is respectable.”

  “That’s why we came to you,” Sarah said.

  He smiled. “Well, I am the best,” he said modestly. “And you want them fast, which means my other clients must wait… Seventy-five hundred is more in line with what a Canadian passport costs.”

  Dead silence met that remark and Salbidrez’s eyes shifted rapidly between his three visitors. The moment stretched.

  “Fifty five hundred, you said,” Sarah said at last.

  Gilberto winced. “You are robbing an old man,” he said.

  “If you weren’t an old man,” Dieter rumbled, “I might be insulted at how you want to rob me.”

  The forger took the cigarette out of his mouth and stubbed it out. “And this is a one-off job,” he went on.

  “You’d give a lower rate if it were six sets?” Dieter asked.

  “Of course—in that case, I could come down as low as thirty-five hundred. But as it is, six thousand for one set each for each of you.”

  “Excellent. Two sets—thirty-five hundred each. Both Canadian, but completely different backup. Different dates, provinces, the whole thing.”

  The old man gave a wheezing laugh. “Ah, you want to switch once you are in the U.S.,” he said. “So that your documents don’t match the ones in the customs computers.”

  “Yes,” Dieter said, conscious of thoughtful, respectful looks from John… and Sarah. “And you are a pirate.”

  “A man must try,” he said and gave them all an impish grin. “So, who’s first?”

  “Let’s go out,” Dieter suggested as they stood outside Gilberto’s workshop.

  “Paint the town red.”

  Sarah just looked at him. “Are you crazy?” she asked. “Under the circumstances…”

  “The circumstances are the best reason I can think of for going a little crazy,”

  von Rossbach said taking her arm and walked her down the street. “We may never get another chance to do this.” He looked down at her. “I’m not suggesting that we shoot off guns in a public park, Sarah.”

  “What about John?” she said, glancing behind her at her son.

  “He’s eighteen,” Dieter said with a shrug. “Or will be when his passport is ready.” He looked over his shoulder and caught John’s quick grin. “It’s time he had a blowout night. We’ll get a really good meal, then we’ll go clubbing. How’s that sound, John?”

  “Cool!” the hope of the human race replied. “Like the man says, Mom, we may never get another chance.”

  BOGOTA, COLOMBIA: THE PRESENT

  It had been a long flight to Bogota and they stumbled off the plane with swollen ankles and numb butts. All they’d brought with them was carry-on luggage with a few changes of underwear and a couple of changes of clothes apiece. The high-altitude air would have been cool and refreshing if Colombia’s capital hadn’t been in a mountain basin that trapped the diesel fumes that came with rapid growth and no public transport.

  Sarah and John had been a bit uneasy about going unarmed, but Dieter convinced them that he could get anything they needed with very little effort.

  For that matter, Sarah knew, so could she. So they’d left their arsenal locked in the car. If for any reason the car was investigated they’d stripped it of any identifying marks and used a false name when they brought it in to park.

  Dieter spotted a restaurant up ahead as they walked through the concourse.

  “Wait for me there, I’ll get the tickets.”

  Sarah nodded and asked, “Shouldn’t we make hotel arrangements, or something?”

  “Not a problem,” von Rossbach said. “We’ll be staying with someone I know.

  He’s done money laundering for some pretty nasty characters. I’ve stayed with him before and I know that he’ll cooperate enthusiastically without asking any embarrassing questions.”

  “Yeah,” John said, “when you’ve got ‘em by the balls their hearts and minds follow right along.”

  “You are wise beyond your years, John,”
Dieter said with a grin.

  “Hey I’m old beyond my years according to my passport,” John said. “That’s got to have an effect.”

  Sarah smiled at him. “C’mon,” she said nodding towards the restaurant. “Do you want us to order for you?” she asked Dieter.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know how long I’ll be. Airport food is bad enough without being cold airport food.”

  He moved off and Sarah and John entered the restaurant. She watched him through the glass until he moved out of sight. This was costing a fortune and so far von Rossbach had paid for it all. She’d let him because it was easier. He seemed to want to do it and it meant that she and John weren’t leaving a trail of false credit cards and counterfeit cash.

  Once upon a time she wouldn’t have cared, she’d have used von Rossbach as a resource right to the limit of what he’d allow, and then pushed for more without a second thought. But her years as sweet, innocent Suzanne Krieger had taken their toll. Now indebtedness made her uneasy. Besides, she was—almost—

  getting to like him a little. Or at least I’m getting closer to ambivalent, she

  thought wearily.

  The waitress seated them, gave them menus, and left them alone. Sarah looked around, automatically checking exits, while John read the menu.

  “How do we get out of here in an emergency?” she asked, mildly annoyed by his apparent obliviousness.

  John pointed without looking up. Sarah turned and noted an exit she hadn’t seen and turned back to him, smiling.

  “You’re a good teacher, Mom,” he said. “Give yourself some credit.”

  She snorted. “Sorry. It’s been a while since we were on the road like this.”

  “Hey, Mom, compared to the way we’ve been on the road this is first class. For starters, Dieter isn’t going to fink on us to the cops, kill us for our wallets, or try to sell us both to a white slaver. I could get used to this.”

  “Don’t,” she warned. “Things could change at any second.”

  He made a face. “Burger,” he said, closing the menu. “And fries. It’s traditional.”

  Sarah smiled tiredly; that it was, even here. International airport food existed in a multinational Twilight Zone where difference was abolished.