When his phone rang, the call came straight through to his inner office, since Vicki had left for the day. He expected it to be Layton or Cruz, or maybe Samantha, with something on her mind. He put it on speaker. "Reed here."
It was a voice he hadn't expected. "Jack, we need to talk."
"Rosanna? Where the hell are you?"
"Never mind that. I want you to listen carefully. Right now, you are in danger, more than you can imagine."
The woman had gone with the Connors. She was probably saying just what they'd told her to, either because they were forcing her, or because she'd joined their cause. Either way, he didn't believe a word. He'd simply keep her on the line until he could get the call traced. "I'm not sure I accept that," he said, understating his feelings.
"You'd damn sure better accept it."
Jack was unimpressed. "All right. Tell me where you are. We'll do what we can to help you."
"Listen, Jack. That is not the point. I didn't call for your help — I said that you're in danger. You'd better heart me out."
"Of course, Rosanna. Just tell me about it You know how much we depend on you."
CALEXICO
Franco pulled up at a public phone, and John got out with Rosanna and the Terminator, leaving Franco in his Ford truck still running the engine for a quick getaway if anyone recognized John or Rosanna. They'd left Sarah and Anton back at the compound to sort things out with Enrique, try to find just how they could get to Washington, short of driving all the way. That would take days, even driving day and night; they didn't have that kind of time.
Rosanna called Jack Reed, and got through to him in his office-he was still there, well into the evening. She put up a good performance, trying to convince him that Layton and Cruz were dangerous, but her face gave away her frustration.
"Listen, Jack," she said. "That is not the point. I didn't call for your help—I said that you're in danger. You'd better hear me out." She paused while Reed said something at the other end of the phone, shaking her head in despair. Despite the T-XA's reprogramming, she was no mindless zombie. John could see that she had her own emotions, even if they were based on selfishness. She was obviously getting angry.
She passed the handset to the Terminator. It said, "Jack?" It spoke in a perfect imitation of Oscar Cruz's voice.
Another pause, as Reed replied.
"Jack," Eve said, still mimicking Cruz's voice, "Rosanna is absolutely right. But she hasn't told you everything. There's a lot that you don't understand."
John had counted on that ability of the Terminator. Back in 1994, the T-800 Terminator sent back to protect him had imitated his voice with no difficulty. The T-1000 had also imitated voices. Eve was basically a different model of the T-800, a prototype version with the same abilities. He'd figured she could do this, and she'd confirmed it, back at Enrique's compound.
Let Reed think he was talking to Oscar Cruz. No, that was too much to ask. But let him wonder why someone just like Cruz was with Rosanna. That would rattle his cage.
THE PENTAGON
"There's a lot that you don't understand," the voice of Oscar Cruz said.
"Oscar?" Jack said. "Where are you calling from? I thought you'd arrived here in Washington. What are you and Rosanna up to?"
"You have an appointment to meet with me and Charles?" the voice said.
"Of course, at Longfellow's. At 9:00 P.M. That's what we all sorted out."
"Cancel it, Jack. You don't know how dangerous it is. If you trust Rosanna at all, cancel it. We're coming to Washington. We'll meet you and explain. But don't meet at all with Charles, or anyone claiming to be me. You don't know what we're up against. But you know they can imitate human beings. You've seen the tapes of the Terminators. You've seen what they can do."
"You're saying that they're Terminators? The two I'm supposed to meet with? That's a hard story to swallow."
"I didn't say that. Maybe they're something worse. Just believe me when I say they're dangerous. Don't go near them, if you value your life."
There was a click on the end of the line, and the speaker went dead. Jack cursed himself for doing nothing to trace the call, but it had been too sudden, too astonishing.
He was damned if he was going to run away from Layton and Cruz, no matter who said so, but the call got him thinking. Could those two really be Terminators? He supposed they could come in various models, so it wasn't out of the question. More likely though the voices he'd just heard, those of Rosanna and Oscar, had been faked in some way-someone was hoaxing him, using skilled actors. But the fakes were perfect. Who would go to such trouble? Besides, why would they talk about Terminators in that way, knowing he would give it some credence? The more he thought about it, the more he thought that really had been Rosanna. So who was she with? The real Cruz, or someone she'd found who sounded like him? Either way, what did she think she was up to?
Thinking back, he wasn't so sure about "Oscar's" voice. The timbre and intonation were right, but he wouldn't swear to the content. Would Oscar have put things that way, so vaguely and dramatically? If only they'd spoken longer.
The bottom line was that Rosanna had called to warn him. She seemed to be with someone she believed to be the real Oscar Cruz, someone who'd implied that the Cruz and Layton here in Washington were Terminators, or something of the kind. What did he mean talking about "even more dangerous?" It didn't add up, but it couldn't be ignored. He started making some calls.
CALEXICO
Eve slammed the phone down. "Will that do the trick?" John said.
"Unknown," the Terminator said.
Rosanna leant against the glass and metal wall of the phone booth, chewing on her lip. Then she pulled herself up, seemingly pleased. "It'll have an effect. Jack's a smart operator."
"You sure have some faith in this guy," John said.
"Not that much, no. But he's no fool-he's not going to come up short. I'm sure he's thinking right now, trying to work it all out. I don't think Charles and Oscar will get it easy tonight."
"We want him to avoid them completely."
"Probably too much to ask, but he'll take precautions. Now let's get back, there's work I could be doing."
When John thought about it, it seemed that Rosanna and Eve had been smart, telling Reed things that might actually frighten him, all in just a few seconds. With luck, no one could have traced them in that time; their location here in the Low Desert was still a secret.
"I've got to make one more call," he said.
Rosanna had started walking back to the truck. She turned, looking frustrated. "Is it really important?"
"It is to me."
He'd been thinking about it, on and off for hours. Last night, he'd seen the death of the adult Danny Dyson, the Danny Dyson from Jade's World, from 2036. That Danny had been in his forties—years older than Miles Dyson had been in 1994, the night John had met him, the night that Miles had died. But the forty-something Danny from Jade's World had looked no older than his father had. back in 1994, probably because of his genetic enhancements. Jade hardly aged at all, so she'd told John; and the other Specialists' aging must have been slowed right down when they were re-engineered.
Back in 1994, John had also met another Danny Dyson, the Danny who was then a six-year-old kid. He must be a teenager now, and Tarissa, his mother, would be about forty. Few people had suffered more than them for the struggle against Skynet, losing a father and a husband. They'd have watched the news on TV, they'd have read all the papers. Right now, they'd be wondering about last night's raid, worrying about what it meant. John figured they had a right to know.
He and Sarah still had a phone number for them. They hadn't wanted to keep in touch, and he knew it was risky. Just quickly though, and just this once, he'd risk calling.
Tarissa answered the phone.
"Hello," John said, suddenly feeling awkward. "Is that Tarissa? Mrs. Dyson?"
"Who's this?" She sounded very guarded. John realized she'd probably had calls from the press.
Maybe they'd been bugging her all day. There'd be people interested in her viewpoint, given her husband's role in the last raid on Cyberdyne.
"It's John," he said. "It's John Connor." When she didn't reply, he added, "I just wanted to let you know I'm safe. Mom's fine, too."
"Oh, John."
"We had to do it.. .Tarissa. You know why."
There was a silence, then Tarissa said. "I know. I know why you did it—but you know you shouldn't call here."
She didn't sound encouraging. Maybe she didn't want to talk about it, or maybe she thought her phone was bugged.
He decided to end the call quickly. "Is Danny there?"
"Yes, he is. I don't think you want to talk to him, John. I really don't."
"I understand. Please, Tarissa, just tell him that it had to be done. He must be old enough to understand now. Everything we've done had a reason, you know that I don't want Danny to grow up thinking of us as his enemies, the people who killed his father — or as psychos or something."
"It's okay, John. Neither of us thinks that." In 1994, the T-800 Terminator had sliced open its own arm at the Dysons' house, tearing away the flesh to reveal the metal endoskeleton. That had been enough to convince the Dysons. Tarissa probably had nightmares about it. John wondered just what she'd told Danny, about how his father had died. "Thanks," he said.
How could he finish the conversation? For as long as he could remember, he'd been taught how to deal with people, how to get them to do what he wanted — not so unlike Oscar Cruz, from what he knew of the man. Cruz seemed to be a born social engineer, a manipulator. That was one of the skills that Sarah had always wanted John to have, and by and large, she'd succeeded in her wish. It was like so much else he'd learned, hanging out in the hills and jungles of Central America, or in survivalist compounds like Enrique's — just as he'd grown up knowing about guns, vehicles, and engines. But he had no words adequate for this moment, for dealing with Tarissa. He couldn't even tell her that he'd seen her son-one version of him-die. It was just too complicated. He would only upset her.
"Thanks," he said again, lame as it sounded. "That's all. I'd better say goodbye."
"Yes, John, thank you for calling. It really does mean something."
He put the phone down, feeling embarrassed and inadequate. There must have been something else he could have said.
They walked back to the truck, John brooding on how the two calls had gone, especially the second one. Still, he thought, he was glad to have done that It might not have been his best effort at making a connection with people, but he felt cleaner for it. Something in his heart was lighter.
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Their taxi pulled up at Longfellow's Grill just after 9:00 P.M., and Oscar paid the driver, adding his usual generous tip. The restaurant was built of gray stone, with a wide front window shrouded by heavy, red drapes. An ornate lamp hung beside a polished wooden door, decorated with elaborate ironwork. Near the door stood two large men in dark blue suits, glancing at their wristwatches. That struck Oscar as odd: A place like this didn't need bouncers. As he stepped from the taxi, he tensed up inside, ready to fight. Like all the others whom the T-XA had reprogrammed, he could move into devastating action, once he was properly cued, but this was not the time—not yet.
One of the men stepped eighteen inches sideways, blocking Oscar's path to the door. "Are you Charles Layton and Oscar Cruz?"
"Yes, we are," Oscar said. "So who are you?" A well-heeled crowd drifted by, enjoying the balmy summer evening. The last thing Oscar wanted was any kind of scene — not here in public. That could ruin their plans.
Jack Reed stepped out from the restaurant, and the big man shifted to let him past. Then came Samantha, looking stylish in a short, black skirt. Jack nodded to Oscar, then to Charles. "It's good to see you both. There's a lot that we have to talk about, but this isn't really the place. I've canceled our reservation."
"What do you want to do?" Oscar said carefully. "Go back to your office?" He didn't like that idea; Layton's gun would have to be shown when they entered the Pentagon. They wouldn't get it past security.
Jack shook his head slowly. "No, that's not the best way to do things."
"What's this all about?" Layton said, giving his mild but oh-so-cold stare.
Jack didn't flinch. "That's just what I want to know." He looked at Oscar carefully. "Just say something for me Anything-"
"What do you want me to say? This is very strange, Jack. It's a funny way for the government to do its business."
People wandering past were turning their heads, puzzled by what they saw, this strange confrontation on the street. "That will do," Jack said. "You damn sure sound like the real Oscar Cruz." He gave a laugh. "You look like him, too."
"What else would I sound like? Or look like?"
Oscar sensed Layton tensing-surely he wouldn't attack in public? Jack must have sensed something, too. He looked pointedly down the street, where another large man stood at the corner outside a dimly lit shop. This man casually flicked open his jacket, revealing a holster underneath.
Two police cruisers crawled slowly down the road on the other side, double parking opposite. "You'd better come with us," Samantha said. "We can talk about it somewhere else. We won't detain you for long."
"I object to this," Layton said.
"Yes," Jack said, "of course you do. So would I. But you don't have much choice if you care about your precious contract. Now come with us, and stop arguing about it. We're going to clear things up.**
Samantha walked ahead.
"Please, both of you, just follow her," Jack said. "I'm sorry to have to treat you like this."
"Whatever you say," Oscar said, catching Layton's eye. They could overpower a certain number of people, but there were cops and government agents everywhere. For the moment, it was foolish resisting, especially here, on a crowded city street. They'd soon get a better opportunity. Depending on where Jack was taking them, this might even be a godsend.
Samantha led them round a corner to where two cars were parked — not the large, black government sedans that Oscar expected, but cheap, unobtrusive looking cars, both Japanese. One was a yellow Toyota about ten years old, the other a bright red Honda Accord, not much newer. The street was quiet here, but another two men waited.
"All right" Jack said. "One of you in each car, please."
"No," Jack said, his mouth twisting up on one side. "I don't doubt who are you are. If I thought that you were imitations, I'd have brought a whole army with me. I've had all your movements today reconstructed-and last night's as well. You must both have been through metal detectors in airports or government buildings. I'm pretty sure you're not Terminators."
"What?"
"That's what I said. Clearing it up wasn't easy, but that's how seriously I take this. Now, please, don't make this even harder."
One of the men in blue suits said, "Are you gentlemen armed? Either of you?" Oscar checked himself from glancing Layton's direction — perhaps an instant too late. The man approached Layton. "Please raise you arms, sir."
"You don't need to frisk me down," Layton said without emotion. "I have a pistol under my jacket."
"Then please let me remove it."
"Do you always carry concealed weapons, Charles?" Jack said, raising his eyebrows slightly.
"After last night I do, yes," Layton shot back.
"Touche" Samantha said. "But we have a lot of other questions."
SALCEDA COMPOUND
When John entered, Enrique was standing in one corner of the trailer where they'd left him, shouting angrily into his cell phone. "No, I can't explain any more, goddammit, not on the phone. Oh, just forget it." As he disconnected, he glanced sheepishly across at John, standing in the doorway. "Hey, amigo, don't worry. We'll get you there." Sarah sat nearby, filming with frustration. Anton and Yolanda watched the TV, turned right down, though it was probably loud enough for Anton. A news bulletin showed scenes of the wrecked Cyberdyne site. When Oscar Cru
z came on the screen, doing an interview, John walked over and turned the sound up. Rosanna, Jade, and Franco stood watching as Cruz scored PR points and deflected hard questions. It looked like the interview was taken much earlier in the day, in bright L.A. sunshine outside Cyberdyne's head office.
Outside, the sun was setting, and darkness was falling over the desert.
This was some team, John thought. When he'd first suggested that Eve imitate Oscar Cruz's voice, Anton had replied with his own imitation. The Specialists could change voices, too — it was something he just hadn't known. But the Terminator seemed even better; its ability was uncanny. Between them, they had a great skill base here. He just hoped it was enough.
"We know that Sarah Connor was involved," Cruz was saying. "It would be nice to think that she was the leader, and it looks a bit that way at first—one of the others was her teenage son. Really, though, we have no idea who the other two were. We don't know who was in command."
That was interesting, John thought. They were talking about just two other people, Anton and Jade presumably. Danny and Selena had been declared non-existent-a nice bit of covering up the truth. Both Cyberdyne and the government must have been in on that.
"I can't say too much more," Cruz said. "I'll just add that Cyberdyne will come through this, as it's come through every other setback. This is by no means the end."
"Well," Enrique said, "whaddya make of that?"
Rosanna walked to the refrigerator and found herself another bottle of Coke. "He's just saying what he has to say."
Enrique grimaced at that. "Yeah, okay. Anyhow, this is gonna be a long night for you all. We'll get you to Washington soon-just don't hold your goddamn breath."
T2 - 02 - The New John Connor Chronicles - An Evil Hour Page 14
