The T-1000 pointed to the shelves, to an Aiwa integrated tele-video unit. 'I'd like that, dear,' it said, using Voight's voice pattern.
'How would you like it delivered, ma'am?'
'I can carry it away, dear, don't worry.'
The clerk looked at the T-1000 as if he was dealing with a crazy customer. 'That's a large item,' he said.
'Are you sure—'
'Trust me on this, dear. I'm stronger than I look.'
The clerk still looked dubious. 'Well, if you say so. I really think you should feel the weight of it first. We have a very good delivery service.'
'Well, perhaps. But is there one all boxed up ready for me if I want to take it away now?'
'Sure. In the pile over there.' He pointed, and the T-1000 took note. 'Now, how would you like to pay?'
'Like this, dear.' The T-1000's right hand suddenly changed, stretching into a two-foot thorn of silvery metal. In one movement, it drove the newly-formed weapon upward through the clerk's chest, then withdrew it, letting him collapse behind the counter. It scooped up a boxed unit, and left the store.
Next, it found a low-rent hotel on
The T-1000 placed the bag and the tele-video unit on the threadbare carpet at its feet. 'Hello, dear,' it said. 'I need a room.'
The woman shrugged her shoulders, as if she saw eccentric guests all the time and how they acted was none of her business. 'Sure. How long do you want to stay, honey?'
'Unknown, dear.'
The woman looked at the T-1000 quizzically. ''Unknown', huh? All right, I'll put you down as a long-term guest.' She made a note in a foolscap exercise book, its used pages held in place by a thick rubber band, then found a room key on a red plastic ring marked with the number '8.' 'Let me take you through the rules here...'
Once in the room, the T-1000 set up the tele-video and started watching cassettes on fast forward. During the afternoon, it worked its way through several of the videos, learning more about the behavior of human beings, but finding no clues to the Connors' whereabouts. As evening stretched on, it used its improved understanding of humans to conclude that the Connors might attempt to strike back against Skynet through its inventor, Miles Dyson, or Dyson's employer, Cyberdyne systems.
It interrupted its search for evidence and made an action plan.
Though many of its records were scanty, the T-1000 held detailed files about Cyberdyne and its key employees all material that had been available to Skynet in 2029. At 10:00 p.m. it rode in its policeman form to Miles Dyson's plush, modern house in Long Beach. From the street, nothing appeared suspicious; there was no sign of the Connors. So far, they hadn't struck.
The T-1000 stepped quickly to the front porch and rang the doorbell. Someone called out, 'Honey, can you get it?' A human male with a gentle, educated voice, but he sounded very busy.
After a minute, the door opened slightly. The young black woman looked surprised. 'Yes, Officer?' she said.
'I'm sorry to bother you so late. Is everything here okay?'
'Yes,' she said slowly, sounding puzzled.
'No one else has disturbed you tonight?'
'No. Not at all. Are you sure you have the right house?'
'I believe so. Are you Mrs. Dyson?' 'Yes.'
'Is Mr. Miles Dyson home?'
'He's working, but I can get him.'
The T-1000 carried out an assessment. This was the right house, and the Dysons were safe—that was important in itself. 'No,' it said. 'There's no need for that.'
'What's this all about?'
'I'm sorry, Mrs. Dyson. It's probably just a hoax, but we have to take it seriously. An inmate called Sarah Connor escaped last night from the Pescadero State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. You may have seen it on the news?'
She shook her head slowly. 'I might have seen something in the newspaper this morning. We didn't watch the news tonight. Miles was busy working and—'
'I understand, ma'am. Sarah Connor was imprisoned for attempting to blow up an experimental computer installation over a year ago. We had a tip-off tonight that she might try to harm your husband or his employer, Cyberdyne Systems. Try not to worry, but please call the Police Department if you see anything unusual.'
'Thank you,' Tarissa Dyson said uncertainly.
'We'll keep in touch with you. Thanks for your cooperation.'
After she shut the door, the T-1000 considered the situation further. It rode off, searching for a public phone, and found one on a corner, outside a 7-Eleven convenience store. Its index finger lengthened and flattened to go down the coin slot and trick the mechanism, and it dialed the 911 police emergency line. When it finally got through, it imitated the voice of the clerk in the appliance store. 'It's about yesterday's breakout from Pescadero.'
'Please, sir, where are you calling from?' A woman's voice, young and harassed-sounding.
'I want to remain anonymous. I might be in danger.'
There was a sigh at the other end of the phone.
'That woman who escaped custody,' the T-1000 said. 'Sarah Connor. Her and the kid—and the big guy from the shopping mall. They're going to target either Cyber-dyne Systems or its chief inventor, Miles Dyson. Maybe tonight. That's what I hear. I think you'd better check it out.'
'How do you know all this?'
'This is important. Please check it out.' It hung up. That should produce some more police activity and give additional protection to Dyson and Cyberdyne.
It was nearly midnight when the Dysons' phone rang. They'd put Danny to bed, but they were too worried to sleep after that motorcycle officer called by.
Tarissa took the handset. 'Hello?' she said in a tentative voice.
'Mrs. Dyson?'
'Yes.'
'This is Detective Weatherby from the Los Angeles Police Department. We've had a tip-off that you and your husband may be in serious danger. We're going to call on you. I'd like you and your family to pack some clothes. I'm really sorry to disturb you like this.'
'Thank God you rang,' Tarissa said. 'Is this about Sarah Connor?'
The detective sounded surprised. 'It is, but how did you know?'
'One of your officers came round a little earlier. A policeman on a motorbike.'
'That's very strange.' There was a pause. 'On a motor-bike, you say?' He sounded skeptical.
'Yes, about half an hour ago.'
Weatherby sounded puzzled. 'We've only just received the tip-off.'
'I can only tell you what happened,' she said, feeling a bit irritated. The police needed to get their act together. That wasn't her problem.
'I really can't explain that,' Weatherby said. 'Anyway, we have information that Sarah Connor could attack your husband or his employer. She is armed, and the man with her is extremely dangerous. He's already wanted for questioning over the murder of seventeen police officers in 1984.'
“Oh, my goodness.' She remembered the news at the time, back before she married Miles, when they were both at Stanford.
'We're taking this very seriously.'
'Okay. That's fine.'
'We'll put you in a hotel tonight and stake out your house. Try not to worry, but please call me immediately if anything suspicious happens before we get there.'
