Infiltrator

Wearily, Tarissa leaned her head against the back of her chair and closed her eyes.

'Did he ever mention being followed—'

'Stop right there,' she said, holding up a finger. Tarissa matched his posture and lowered her voice. 'I'll tell you right now, Jordan, when I opened my front door and saw you on my porch tonight, my heart sank. Because I knew that at the first opportunity you would do this.'

'I just want to find out what happened!' he said reasonably. 'You might remember something if I ask the right question.'

'Do you think that I haven't gone over and over this in my mind?' She glared at him. 'Do you think I will ever forget one moment of that night? Maybe you don't think I've asked myself if I'd done something different would Miles still be alive? Well, I have.' She nodded fiercely. 'I've thought, I've questioned, I've wondered. And every time that you come here and we have one of these sessions, I lie awake for weeks afterward wondering about it all over again. I wonder if what you're really asking is why didn't you do something to save my brother? Why are you alive while he's dead?'

'That's not true!' Jordan sat straight in shock. 'I never thought that!'

'I've never stopped grieving for him, Jordan. I never will. But I tell you right now, I can't keep doing this. It feels like punishment and I won't stand for it

anymore. Do you understand?'

After a moment of staring at her openmouthed, he said, 'No. I don't understand. I just want to find the people who killed my brother. I owe him that, Tarissa. I owe him.' His eyes pleaded for understanding.

'If you found those people tomorrow and put them on trial, I really can't say that I'd even go to watch,' she said. 'I'm tired, Jordan, tired and heartsore. But it's time to move on. I can't take this anymore.'

He looked at her in disbelief.

'Don't you want to know who killed him?' he asked.

'I know who killed him,' she said. She looked away from him for a moment and composed herself, stifled the tears that filled her eyes. 'The SWAT team killed Miles.'

' What?' Jordan found himself on his feet and slowly sat back down. 'Who the hell told you that?'

'The team commander,' she said, looking him in the eye. 'He had cancer and he had Miles's death on his conscience.' She began to fiddle with the arm of her chair. Then she looked up at him. 'They saw him, they shot him. They didn't cry out a warning, no drop your weapons, hands up, none of that. They basically came in shooting. He never had a chance.'

Jordan looked sick as well as shocked.

'I didn't want to tell you,' she said, closing her eyes. 'I knew it would hit you hard. But it wasn't the terrorists that killed him, it was the police.'

'Oh, my God,' Jordan whispered. 'They covered it up.'

He flopped back in his chair then took his wine and tossed the rest of it down.

For a while he sat staring into space, his hands caressing the glass. Then he put it on the table and buried his face in his hands, elbows on his knees. 'No,' he said, shaking his head. 'He wouldn't have been there except for the terrorists. They have to be punished.'

'I'm going to bed,' Tarissa said angrily.

She pushed herself up -from her chair and moved rapidly toward the stairs, then stopped and turned around.

'I'm never going to talk to you about this again, Jordan. Never. If you can't keep from asking, then I guess we won't be seeing each other anymore. And I don't want you torturing Danny with questions either. He was just a baby when it happened, and he can't tell you anything new.'

She came back toward him a few steps, once again lowering her voice. 'And every time you stir this up, it gives him terrible dreams. When he was younger he woke up screaming. So I'm telling you once and for all, I want you to stop this!' She brought her fist down to pound her thigh. 'I want you to stop torturing us. It wasn't our fault, we couldn't do anything but what we did, and all the questions in the world won't bring Miles back!'

Tarissa turned away and mounted the first few steps, and then she let out her

breath. 'I love you, Jordan,' she said. 'I love you like you were my own brother.

I really, really hope that you can see my side of this, because I want you in my life.' She gave him one last tear-filled look and then walked up the stairs.

Jordan sat there for a few moments; he heard the door to her room close, then slowly let out his breath as he leaned back and put his hand over his eyes. He felt incredibly tired and sad.

'I can't let it go,' he whispered, his teeth clenched. 'I can't.' He sighed. But he could leave Tarissa and Dan out of it. He hadn't thought about how it might feel to them when he asked his questions. 'Okay,' he said aloud. 'From now on I'll keep it to myself, Tarissa.'

The next time she heard about this would be after those bastards had been tried and convicted. Because he would never give up.

CYBERDYNE SYSTEMS CORPORATION, FT. LAUREL,

CALIFORNIA: THE PRESENT

'This place sucks,' Roger Colvin said.

The CEO put his briefcase down on the highly polished, but rather small, conference-room table and looked around. Institutional-bland, too functional, without the little touches of class he'd come to expect.

Cheap, he thought.

'Is this room bugged?'

Paul Warren, Cyberdyne's president, shrugged, looking gloomy.

'It would seem superfluous,' he said. 'We give them daily reports, they know who and what goes in and out, all our calls are handled by their switching station. Just with that they know as much as we do about what's going on in the company. Probably more.'

'Having us underground seems a bit much,' Colvin said. He twitched the knees of his trousers and sat. 'I swear it's affecting my allergies.'

'That smell?' Warren asked.

'Yeah, what is that?'

The president shrugged. 'I think it might be the carpet adhesive. That stuff always stinks for weeks after it's laid down. What I mind is the lack of space.'

He looked up at the ceiling. 'I'm not crazy about being buried alive, either.'

Colvin gave him a quick look from under his eyebrows. That was a disturbing thought, especially in California. 'So why did you call me?' he asked.

Warren looked at him in surprise. 'Call you? I didn't call you. My secretary said that I had a meeting with you here at two-thirty.'

They looked at each other in mutual perplexity. Then, simultaneously, light dawned.

'Trie—' Colvin began.

'Gentlemen!' Tricker breezed through the door and set his case down on the

table. 'I hope I haven't kept you waiting. I know how busy you are assigning the parking spaces and all.'

After a beat Colvin said, his expression disapproving, 'Actually we've been getting this project up and running. And after six years that's not as simple as it would have been. I've always wondered why, exactly, you refused to let us start up again right away.'

'Well…' Tricker sat down and opened his case, placing a file before him. 'I have some questions. If you don't mind?' He looked at them both, smiling pleasantly.

'And if we did?' Warren muttered.

Tricker opened the file, took a pen from his pocket, and made a note.

'Are you going to answer my question?' Colvin finally asked him.

'That was a question, Mr. Colvin? It didn't sound like a question.' Tricker shook his head. 'I don't have your answer, I'm afraid. I'm just the messenger boy.'