Kate slammed the cage door shut, and dropped the latch. Now the cage was impossible to open from inside, and she allowed herself to relax for the first time.
She hunched down in front of the cage and looked at him. There was something familiar... something she
couldn't quite put her finger on... something bothersome.
'Look, this isn't what you think,' Connor told her.
At that moment the buzzer at the front door went off. Someone had seen the lights in the reception room and had brought a sick animal.
'Yeah, right,' she said.
She got up and went back into the storage room where she set the pistol aside and got her cell phone. Suddenly she had it! She knew! And it was like someone had dropped a brick on her head.
She turned on her heel and went back into the kennel. Connor looked up at her expectantly.
'Mike Kripke's basement,' she said.
The front buzzer was going crazy, and the dogs were starting to get agitated again.
'What?' Connor asked, confused. 'What does that mean?'
Kate shook her head in amazement, then went to find out what idiot was at the front door at this hour.
When she was gone, Connor tried for the latch, but it was just beyond his reach. He braced his back against the rear bars and kicked at the door with no results.
'Beautiful,' he muttered.
c.9
North Hollywood
T-X waited until a garbage truck lumbered past, then turned into the takeout driveway of an all-night fast- food restaurant.
Twenty minutes ago she had telephoned the home number of Maria Barrera in Reseda, which she had downloaded from the L.A. County welfare database. Her Spanish was perfect, but Mrs. Barrera said that her son wasn't home. He was at work.
'He's a good boy. He's been no trouble. Please.'
'Where is he working, Mrs. Barrera?' T-X asked politely.
'Jim's Burgers. It's in North Hollywood. Please, he's a good boy.'
There were no cars in line as T-X pulled up to the menu board and speaker, and only a couple of Hispanic kids with their low-riders in the parking lot.
'Welcome to Jim's Burgers, can I take your order?' The voice was of a young, Hispanic male.
'Jose Barrera?' T-X asked.
'Um... yeah.'
T-X pulled forward to the order window as Barrera leaned out to see what was going on. He looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. He wore a blue hat and blue shirt with the restaurant's logo.
T-X looked up at the boy and smiled. His name tag read Barrera. Her head-up display showed a match.
She had the Sig-Sauer on her lap. She lifted it and fired two shots into the young man's face, then laid the gun on the passenger seat, drove past the pickup window, around the restaurant, and back out onto the street where she accelerated smoothly into the night
Her head-up display showed a grid:
ANDERSON, WILLIAM - TERMINATED ANDERSON, ELIZABETH - TERMINATED BARRERA, JOSE - TERMINATED BREWSTER, KATHERINE - OPEN CONNOR, JOHN - OPEN
The Katherine Brewster line was highlighted, and a file came up with photographs as well as home and work addresses and phone numbers.
She entered Katherine Brewster's home number into the cell phone. After five rings it was finally answered by a man.
'Yes?'
'Katherine Brewster?'
'Who's calling? Do you know what time it is?'
'Katherine Brewster, please. This is a veterinary emergency.'
'She's not here. She's at the clinic. It's the same thing I told the guy who called five minutes ago.' T-X hung up.
Santa Clara
Strictly speaking, Terminator was incapable of experiencing human feelings, or of having premonitions. But he could and did constantly evaluate data: old data from his memory banks, and new data that his sensors continuously gathered. From such evaluations he could make predictive forecasts to which he could assign probability values.
He was programmed to know that Skynet was sending or had already sent back a terminator. He was also programmed with the knowledge that it was a T-X assigned to eliminate targets of opportunity, among them John Connor and Katherine Brewster.
Finally, he was programmed, by Connor himself, to understand that in this era Connor was what might be called a loose cannon; no permanent address and only scanty personal records in a few databases.
The T-X would understand this, and would probably view Katherine Brewster as a preliminary target
Terminator's head-up display assigned an 88.97733451 percent probability to such a scenario.
After he had spoken with the man who answered Katherine Brewster's home telephone, Terminator increased the scenario probability to 94.5365555 percent.
From his database he brought up Katherine's place of employment, Emery Animal Hospital, pinpointed the address on a map of the Los Angeles area, and headed there.
Traffic was light at this hour of the morning, mostly semis. With his onboard electronic emissions detectors (which included radar) he pushed the truck to speeds in excess of one hundred miles per hour.
c.10
The Valley
Out in the lobby Kate saw who was ringing the front buzzer, and she groaned inwardly.
She was still in a state of shock that she recognized the guy she'd locked in the cage. But the more she thought about it the more worried she became. There'd been trouble around him.
Kate unlocked the front door, and Betsy Steinberg, one of Emery's regular and more obnoxious customers, pushed her way past with her pet carrier clutched firmly in her grip.
'It's Hercules, I think he's got pneumonia. He just started coughing and he wouldn't stop?' The woman was about Kate's age and general build, but she could be very insistent, something Kate normally wasn't
'Betsy, I've got a problem in back.'
'A problem?' the woman shouted, alarmed. 'This is an emergency!'
Kate peered into the carrier. Hercules was a pampered, overfed, overweight Siamese cat whose only problem was his owner, who treated the cat like a person and
not like an animal. The cat lowered its head and coughed politely.
'Sounds like a hairball,' Kate said.
'I know what hairballs sound like,' Betsy shrilled. 'Where's Dr. Monroe?'
'It's five-thirty in the morning, I'm sure he's home sleeping. He'll come in if he has to?' Kate smiled, softening. The woman was frightened enough about the safety of an animal she obviously loved to get up and come down to the clinic. 'Look, just wait here with Hercules. I'll be just a few minutes, all right?'
Betsy searched Kate's face to make sure that she wasn't being blown off, then nodded. 'Okay.'
Kate went back into the kennel, picked up the Tor-butrol bottle, and hunched down in front of the cage that held her prisoner.
'Did you call the cops?' Connor asked.
'Not yet.'
Connor glanced at the empty bottle. 'Am I going to need my stomach pumped or something?'
Kate felt a little sorry for him. He looked forlorn. Lost. 'You took a couple hundred milligrams of a narcotic ... you're going to be out of it for a while. That's all.'
Connor nodded.
