Dark Futures

Nevada?'

'They're certainly hiding things,' Sarah said in a flat voice.

'So maybe you know more than you're telling us? Fair enough, too. You don't have to tell all your secrets to me. Raoul feels the same way, don't worry. We can keep our mouths shut about what you do tell us. And we won't pester you. It'll be cool. You'll see.'

Sarah didn't say another word for the rest of the journey.

When the Terminators appeared from the future, John had worked out that his mom was not crazy, after all.

What was scary about some of their friends was that they didn't need too much convincing, they kind of reserved judgment anyway. That meant that they really were crazy.

Willard took another turn-off, and they soon arrived at Tejada's estancia, where they drove through a gate marked with the sign no trespassing in flaming red letters. They passed cattle, men on horseback, an orange tractor, then reached the homestead, 200 yards on. It was fenced off from Raoul and Gabriela's wide cattle acres, and fortified by a high chain-link fence with surveillance cameras every fifty yards or so. From here, it looked like a military base, more forbidding, in its way, than the Salcedas' camp, back in California. But the set-up inside the perimeter was a lot more up-market than Enrique's cluster of vehicles and trailers.

They drove slowly past a guardhouse and a couple of workshops, then parked in a big round space, surfaced with pink gravel and surrounded by buildings.

Three vehicles were already here: another two Cherokees and a beautifully-cleaned 1960s Jaguar. The house itself-the casco-was an impressive two-story mansion of gray stone, maybe a couple of hundred years old, with beautiful gardens, a well-mown lawn, and groves of trees. Many of these were eucalyptus, so there was plenty of greenery, despite the winter. On the right of the casco were a dozen white-painted bungalows, set back in a row. Across the graveled area from these were workshops, a garage for Raoul's car collection, and a big sheet-metal hangar for his Jetranger helicopter. There were also stables, tool sheds, and a school area for the kids who lived on the estancia.

The Tejadas' workers were all sorts of nationalities.

The men and women they'd passed on the way in, and those trimming the lawn and gardens, looked like a mixture from all across Europe, yet John knew most of them—and knew they'd been born right here in Argentina. That was a cool thing about this country. Its people came from so many backgrounds that no one automatically looked or sounded like an outsider. In John's years of traveling round Latin America, he'd adapted almost perfectly, wherever he went, never having known anything different. But here it was especially easy to fit in, to camouflage yourself like a chameleon. Whatever color you were, however you talked or dressed, no one looked at you twice.

'Thanks for the lift,'' Sarah said as she slammed the door of the Jeep behind her. She sounded really tense now, maybe not sure of what reception they'd get. Still, Raoul Tejada had been friendly enough when they'd phoned him from Mexico City. As she walked to the house, on a tiled path through the garden, she still limped from the bullet wound she'd taken in LA. The last few weeks hadn't helped her get it better. John felt sorry for her—maybe she'd always feel it.

A woman waved from the garden. It was Rosa Suarez, calling out to them in Spanish. 'Hello, Sarah. Hello, John. It's good to see you.' Rosa had a couple of her kids with her: her daughter, Maria, and son, Angelo, both two or three years younger than John.

John waved back. 'And you, too,' he said, also in Spanish.

'Stay this time,' Rosa said, switching to English.

'Yeah, Rosa, that'd be cool.'

Raoul Tejada came out of the front door onto the broad verandah. His German shepherd dog, Hercules, got out the door ahead of him, bounding down the steps to greet John and Sarah.

'Good boy,' John said. He laughed as the dog licked him, ran excitedly from him to Sarah, then back, putting up his front paws on John's T-shirt. 'Aw, c'mon, let's not get too mushy about this.'

Raoul was a very tall man in his sixties, maybe six-foot-five, with a lean, snake-hipped figure, a deep, even tan like a ski instructor, and a mop of unruly white hair that was getting thin, but not actually balding anywhere. He wore corduroy jeans and a black turtleneck. 'So, we have a pair of Connors,' he said in faintly accented English. 'You're not here to blow up my ranch, I hope?'

'It's good to see you, too, Raoul,' Sarah said with a trace of sarcasm. She patted Hercules firmly. 'Calm down, boy. We know you're glad to see us.'

'Come here, Hercules,' Raoul said. The dog hesitated, not knowing what it wanted-to keep up its welcome to John and Sarah, or return to its master. 'Come on.'

Sarah winced a bit, climbing the steps to the verandah. It was cold outdoors. John found himself shivering. Maybe that made his mom's leg hurt more.

As he crouched to pet his dog, Raoul glanced Willard's way. 'No problems?'

'No, everything went smoothly. The drop-off was fine. I got the money okay.'

'Right. Now what about this pair?' Raoul smiled to show he was kidding.

'It all went like a song, Raoul. And here they are, at your service.' Willard gave a little bow. They were probably safe here. No one at the estancia was likely to betray them. Better still, the local cops had no reason to expect them to be in Argentina, let alone out here on the Pampas.

'Okay,' Raoul said 'Forget about the bags, Willard-you can worry about them later. Come on in, all of you.' He looked at Sarah thoughtfully. 'You and John are more than welcome. I hope you know that.' He left Hercules to lie on the porch—panting happily, with his tongue out— and approached Sarah. Raoul towered over her. He reached down to give her a quick hug, draping one long arm over her shoulder. Then he slapped John on the back 'You look like you're doing fine, companero'

'Hey, Raoul, I'm okay,' John said.

The front room of the casco was a huge entertaining area, lined with books. It had a wooden dining table that could seat about twenty people. To the left was a study crammed with computer equipment and more books. There was a kitchen on the right, through a stone archway.

Gabriela Tejada, Raoul's wife, came down the hallway from the back of the house. She was much younger than her husband, maybe in her forties-John still found it difficult being sure of adults' ages, but the Tejadas' kids were teenagers, so it all kind of figured. She was nearly six feet tall, with a square jaw, and an impressive smile that showed very white teeth. She wore a bright, multicolored dress, with a shawl around her shoulders. 'It's so good to see you both,' she said. There were more hugs all round. 'Come, come.' She led them down the hallway to a small dining room decorated with abstract sculptures.

They sat at the formal dining table and the adults drank mate.  John settled for a tall glass of Coke. 'You know, Sarah,' Raoul said, 'I'm not sure you did the right thing blowing up that building. We've been watching the story on CNN. Then you rang me from Mexico with this story about military robots and all the rest of it. I don't know...'

Raoul probably had some really weird impression. Sarah had left a lot out in that quick call from Mexico. 'You mean you don't believe me?' she said, then grunted. 'Why should you? No one else does.'

Raoul shrugged. 'I didn't say that. It's not that I don't believe you. It just seems to me that your country might need those robots when the Russians attack.'

Sarah caught John's eye for just a second, warning him not to take Raoul's theories too seriously. He was a smart guy, but with a truly paranoid view of the world. 'I don't think I could begin to explain the ins and outs of it,' she said. 'I don't think you really want to know.'

'This is all to do with that stuff about time travel or whatever it was?'

'Raoul, we're not the police,' Gabriela said. 'We don't have to interrogate our guests.' She put her hand on her husband's. 'All right?'

'Okay. Maybe I'm forgetting my manners. Still, this time travel thing. That might come in handy, too.'

'Raoul!' Gabriela said warningly-but with a smile. She poured more mate for the adults. It was a couple of years since John last been here, and he'd grown up a lot since, enough to know about humoring people. It seemed that some people humored Raoul, while others went along with him. And some weren't sure. They thought he might be right, because he was so smart, but still thought he sounded kind of whacko. John could sense the different reactions, and he suddenly realized that Gabriela fitted in the third category. She seemed both proud of her