He glanced at the clock. It would take ten minutes to walk to the gate if he hurried, so he might as well start now and take it easy. This promised to be interesting, maybe even fun.
Jordan glanced in his rearview mirror at the boy. He looked a little more pale than he had when they started out, but not frighteningly so. He appeared to be asleep. Should I wake him up? he wondered. Head wounds were supposed to be kept awake, weren’t they?
Whatever! He was an investigator, not a doctor. Hey, he’s breathing. And in twenty minutes he’ll be in the base hospital getting transfusions. He tried not to think of how he’d react if it was Danny bearing those wounds. Of course, Danny wouldn’t get himself into a situation like this, he decided with certainty.
Then he remembered what Dan had told him about the Connors, his ardent young face making it impossible to misjudge his opinion. So maybe Danny
would lend a hand at blasting Cyberdyne sky-high, after all.
Thank God the perimeter fence was finally in sight.
Ferri came out of the guard shack and hopped into Jordan’s car. Then he pointed forward and Dyson took off.
“Whaddaya think?” Dyson asked.
The major turned in his seat and looked at Connor.
“What the hell do I know? I’d say he’s asleep.” He shook his head. “But for all I know, he’s in a terminal coma.”
“Jesus,” Jordan breathed.
“The doc will tell us,” Ferri said calmly. “Until then, just drive.”
When they pulled up at the base hospital the Major went in and got a gurney and some attendants to take the boy out of the car. Inside he asked for two doctors by name. The second was on duty and was duly paged at the Major’s request.
When he arrived, Ralph explained that the boy and his injuries were secret Cyberdyne business and that the hospital staff were bound to aid them as a matter of national security.
“Major, this boy looks to be under eighteen by a good few years and he’s been shot! We can’t keep something like this secret! At the very least his parents need to be notified,” the doctor said reasonably.
“All I’m allowed to tell you, Doctor,” Jordan interrupted, “is that this boy is in danger and must be guarded. I assure you, this won’t be swept under a rug someplace. But sometimes timing can be more important than strict adherence to the rules.”
“We’re not talking rules here,” the doctor insisted, “we’re talking laws.”
“If laws are being broken here, Doctor, I will take the responsibility,” Jordan said gravely. “My object is to keep this boy alive. If you take it upon yourself to report his presence here, you may cost him his life and that will be your sole responsibility.”
The Major and Dyson stared the doctor down. Reluctantly he agreed to abide by their conditions, then he got to work.
Jordan blew out his breath in relief and looked at the Major.
“I didn’t think he was going to agree,” he said quietly.
“Oh, he would have,” Ralph assured him. “He was just trying to make me order him to do it. That way, see, it’s totally my responsibility. But he’s too good a doctor to let the kid lie there bleeding while he played that game.” Ferri grinned.
“Sometimes having a conscience can be really inconvenient, y’know?”
Jordan’s mouth tightened. “Unfortunately, yeah.”
“And now,” the officer said cheerfully, “It’s your responsibility.”
“Thanks.”
CYBERDYNE: THE PRESENT
Serena sat in her darkened office watching the digital readout projected onto her eyes count down the seconds, the minutes, the hours. It was nine-fifteen and twenty-seven seconds. She had sent the doctor and nurse home at nine.
It was obvious that Dyson wasn’t going to show up. Serena had been sifting through police reports, looking for arrests or accidents, or even abandoned cars.
Nothing.
Jordan should have been able to handle him as a trained agent.
The other and less palatable possibility was that Connor had subverted Dyson.
No.’ she thought. Not possible. Why would he aid and abet the people that he knows killed his beloved brother? Answer, no reason.
Still, he was human. Best to keep an open mind. The adult John Connor had a record of inspiring humans to insane actions.
She blinked and the time readout stopped. No sense in wasting time; she had work to do, her own and Cyberdyne’s. If Dyson showed up, he did. If not, not.
She thought that whatever had happened she could still look forward to a visit from Sarah Connor in the near future.
Two hours later, a considerable amount of report reading and writing had been accomplished. The phone rang and Serena patched in.
“Burns,” she said crisply.
“Uh, Ms. Burns, this is Joe Cady of Aadvanced Security,” a man said.
In the background she could hear shouting voices, trucks, running feet, a siren.
Aadvanced was the subcontractor she’d hired to watch the automated factory site. The military had wanted to keep a low profile. Aadvanced—despite the misspelling that made them first in the phone book—had a pretty good record.
Things did not sound good right now, however.
“What’s happened, Mr. Cady?” Serena asked calmly.
“Some people came out of the night; they distracted us with a forest fire a few miles off. At least I think that was them. The fire-department guys said they thought the fire was arson. Then they snuck in and got the drop on us. They tied us up and locked us in the guard shack, took our cell phones, then they set bombs all over the place. Said they were the Luddite Liberation Army.
“When we got loose we sent a guy over to where the fire was to see if he could get us some help. They even blew our cars up, the bastards. So they’ve been gone a couple of hours at least.” Cady’s voice was shaking.
Serena gathered from this that he hadn’t been sure the Luddites were going to leave them alive.
“How bad is the damage?” she asked. She quickly added, “I assume no one was hurt; you’d have told me if someone was hurt, wouldn’t you?” She did, after all, have a role to play here.
“Yeah,” Cady said. “I mean, no, nobody’s hurt.” He paused and she could hear him sucking his teeth. “The destruction is pretty near total,” he said. “All the
machinery, all the construction supplies and the company’s trailer, the area they’d leveled—everything is busted up, burning, or crapped up somehow. I never saw anything like it.”
“Did they leave a message?” she asked.
They must have left a message, this whole thing is a message, of course.
“If they did, ma’am, it’s gone now. They didn’t leave anything with us or tell us to say anything, like a message. You know? It’s just fire and smoke and mess here.” Cady’s voice faded away. “I’ll look around, though.”
A messenger has left a parcel for the president and CEO, Seven, stationed at the security desk, said. When I told her they weren’t here she said she’d been instructed to give it to the next-most-important executive that was present.
Serena sent Six to retrieve it for her. Probably it was from the LLA. Luddite Liberation Army, of all the stupid names. These jerks wouldn’t liberate their grandmother from backbreaking peasant labor by buying the old girl a washing machine. But they all had to have “Liberation” in their name. Serena supposed they would feel liberated if everybody else was forced to embrace their ideals.
“Have you informed anybody else about this?” she asked Cady. Barely a second had gone by in real time.
“Well… Tony brought back some of the firefighter guys, and they radioed the police, of course.” He sounded nervous. “I dunno if that was okay or not, but we needed help and they were the only people we could contact.”
The general is not going to like this, Serena thought. But I did warn him to let me handle security directly if he didn’t want the army to take care of it. She shrugged men
tally.
“If the authorities have questions that you can’t answer, Mr. Cady, you may refer them to me at this number. I’ll be here for several hours yet.”
“Oh, thank you, ma’am. Yes, I’ll do that,” he groveled.
Pathetic, the T-950 thought.
“Good night, then,” she said, “Oh, um, since there’s nothing left there to guard, I guess you and your crew can go home after the police are through with you.”
“Great! Ah, yes, ma’am. I’ll tell them. Thank you.”
She broke the connection and leaned her head back against her chair. The 1-950
was conflicted. This development was essential if she was to convince Cyberdyne and the military to move the factories far from human habitation. The T-950 had always preferred the idea of having the Army Corps of Engineers construct the facility. It wasn’t traditional, but it would be cost-effective and very secret. Maybe now…
Serena sighed, almost contentedly. Each crisis gave her a greater margin of control. The fact that she had warned Cyberdyne that this might happen would count in her favor.
Except possibly with Tricker. He’d probably wonder about her prescience, her uncanny ability to read the future. If he only knew, she thought with a smile. The
problem was that a professional paranoid like Tricker didn’t believe in precognition, but did believe in people who made things happen.
The trick would be controlling this Luddite revolution. But if the sites are remote enough it shouldn’t be a problem. And once the factories were operational she could direct them to build some advanced weaponry for self-protection. It would be good when the first HKs, those dear, old, reliable hunter/killers, rolled off the assembly line. Very good.
But for now she had this problem of her missing assistant and the equally, and more importantly, missing John Connor. Supernatural, she thought. They’re positively supernatural.
Two made contact.
“Now what?” Serena muttered.
The T-950 clone has been harvested, Two announced. It has survived the implant process.
Excellent, she sent. Keep me appraised of its progress. How is the other surrogate doing?
Extremely well, Two sent. Shall I terminate it?
Not yet, Serena ordered. Have you terminated this one’s vehicle yet?
Not yet.
Keep her for the first week, she ordered. The 1-950 organism will benefit from
the mother’s milk. In seven days it should be weaned and you can dispose of the human then.
Understood.
Is there anything else? she asked.
Nothing.
Out, Serena sent.
Out, Two confirmed.
Serena sat thinking. It had been quite an evening; good, bad, and indifferent.
Still, for the most part her plans were moving along just as they should. If only she knew what had happened to John Connor.
FT. LAUREL BASE HOSPITAL: THE PRESENT
Jordan sat in the too small, too short, and too hard plastic chair in the hospital waiting room and stared at the mayonnaise-colored walls as he thought.
How did this happen? How did I allow myself to be talked into this? He was feeling more than a little stunned. This was him? He was here? Really? Jordan sighed. At least Tarissa and Danny will be happy.
Ferri returned and handed him a cup of coffee from the machine down the hall.
“I got a flush, you got bupkiss,” the Major said handing over the card decorated cup.
“Gee, thanks,” Jordan said with a grin.
They sat quietly drinking the lukewarm brew.
“You are so gonna get your ass fired,” Ferri said after a few minutes.
“Yeah, I am,” Dyson agreed with a sage nod. “Yup, you got it in one.”
The Major looked at him out of the corner of his eye.
“You don’t sound too upset,” he observed.
“I think I’m too stunned to be upset right now,” Jordan said. He waved a hand.
“This is the craziest thing I have ever done. I just can’t believe I’m sitting here.”
“So, what I’m wondering,” Ferri said, “is where the hell you’re going with this thing.” He waved vaguely. “I mean, this kid should be turned over to the police.
Ya know?”
Jordan nodded and took another sip. Then he shrugged.
“Eventually, yeah. See, the thing is, I agree with Ms. Burns that Sarah Connor is headed our way. I think that having John boy on hand might”— he tipped his hand from side to side, wincing—“make her a little less violent.”
“That sucks,” Ferri observed.
“Yeah, it does,” Jordan agreed. “I keep thinking of my nephew.”
The doctor came toward them and both men stood.
“He’s going to be fine,” he said. “I’ve given him something for the pain and he’ll sleep through until morning at the least and probably most of tomorrow.”
“The concussion?” Jordan asked.
The doctor’s eyes moved from the Major to Dyson.
“I wasn’t sure you cared,” he said.
Jordan gave him a disgusted look. “So?”
“You’re right, the boy does have a concussion,” the doctor conceded. “A very minor one. I don’t anticipate any problems, but I’ve got the nurses checking in on him every hour.”
“Good,” Jordan said. “Uh, I’d also like to keep an eye on him, so would it be possible for me to… bunk in with him?”
The doctor held his clipboard in front of him like a shield. “Hospital beds are for hospital patients.”
“You can set up some kind of a cot,” the Major said pleasantly. “Or maybe a reclining chair or something. We have to cooperate with Mr. Dyson on this. It’s for the boy’s own good.”
The doctor opened his mouth to protest, saw the steel behind Ferri’s smile, and relented. “Very well,” he said stiffly. “I’ll have the nurses set something up for you. Good night, gentlemen.”
“I don’t think he likes you,” Ferri observed quietly, watching the doctor walk away.
Jordan shrugged. “I’m not sure I like me very much right now either.” He grimaced, then turned to his friend. “Thanks, Ralph. You’ve gone way above and beyond on this one. I owe you.”
“I know,” Ferri said with a grin. “And one dark night I just might collect on it.”
He slapped Dyson on the shoulder. “But you’ve already made a partial payment by giving me a heads-up on this Sarah Connor thing. The doyenne of Cyberdyne security hasn’t seen fit to let us grunts in on what’s going on. If we’re not on our toes for this it’s my fault, not yours.” He gave Jordan another pat on the back. “
‘Night.”
Jordan watched him walk away, then turned and headed for the nurses’ station. I am so gonna get my ass fired, he thought.
NEW YORK CITY: THE PRESENT
Ron Labane studied the pictures on his computer screen in awe. They did it! he thought gleefully. They actually did it! Put a thumb in the eye of the military-industrial complex, kicked the legs right out from under the bastards. And they had the balls to film it as they did it! He didn’t even need to be concerned that this would lead the police to him because they’d flooded the Net with these images.
Ron wasn’t as happy about the forest fire they’d started and was prepared to be angry until he got a separate message to the effect that the area was already
scheduled for a controlled burn. Very impressive, very satisfying.
The only difficulty, he thought, will be in controlling them. It wouldn’t be the first time that early success also led to early imprisonment. And I have plans for these people.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
LAUREL, CALIFORNIA: THE PRESENT
Dieter pulled up at the gate of Ft. Laurel and waited for the MPs on duty to come out. He felt a moment of nostalgia; going through perimeter security was something he’d done most days of his life for twenty years. Sometimes legitimately, on his way to work; some
times under assumed identities, very illegitimately… also on his way to work.
He’d borrowed the Chamberlains’ army-surplus Humvee on the off chance that Cyberdyne could identify him, and Sarah, by their vehicle. In the back he’d placed a case of the expensive (and very hard-to-find) Danish beer that Ferri liked. The man was a real connoisseur; he sneered at mere Tuborg as fit only for peasants, barely better than Swedish brews.
The MP at the desk looked him over thoroughly before he picked up his clipboard and came out of the shack, narrow-eyed and slow. He was backed up by another soldier with a rifle, who moved to the right fender and stood at the ready.
Dieter had his passport in hand and passed it over to the MP without being asked. “I’m here to see Major Ferri,” he said.
Then he went silent, keeping his face turned toward the MP, who read the passport—as well as he could, it being in Spanish. The MP looked from the passport to von Rossbach several times as though comparing individual features.
Dieter was amused by his thoroughness. When it all came down it wasn’t going to be because this kid hadn’t made sure of his identity.
“Are you boys expecting trouble?” he asked as the MP checked the backseat.
“Always, sir,” the MP answered. He went around to the back and lifted the canvas cover. “What’s in the box?”
“Beer.” Which was obvious, the name was all over the case.
“I meant in the locker behind it, sir.”
“A blanket, a tool kit, a flashlight,” Dieter answered. “Some flares, stuff like that.”
If it had been anyone else but the major’s guest the MP would have asked the big man to open the trunk.
“You may proceed, sir,” he said. Without waiting to be asked, he provided instructions to the Major’s lodgings.
“Thank you,” Dieter said amiably.
“You’re welcome, sir.”
Dieter glanced in the rearview mirror as he drove off and saw the rifleman
watching the Humvee for a moment before going back to the guard shack. It gave him a sense of unease, as though they knew more than they should.
Calm down, he told himself. The last I heard even the best MPs didn’t have x-ray vision.
Infiltrator t2-1 Page 48
