Infiltrator

'Look, if you were going to pick the head of security no matter what we wanted, why did we even go through this charade?' Warren asked. 'We have got other things to do, Tricker.'

Looking surprised by this onslaught, Tricker raised his hands in a reasoning gesture. 'Look, fellas, I'm just trying to point out some of the pitfalls of working with a possible bimbo. Or worse yet, a possible plant from one of your competitors. I was trying to determine if you had at least considered that she might be more trouble than she's worth.'

'I think a possible discrimination lawsuit would be even more trouble than it's worth,' Colvin said.

'I agree,' Warren said. 'Especially since such a suit would seem to be justified in this case.'

Tricker slapped his hands onto the arms of his chair and just looked at them. He had to admit that they had him. He didn't like it, but knew for sure he was beating a dead horse. Unless he really did want to select their head of security himself.

He considered it briefly. Nah! Too much work. He would, however, keep a hawk's eye on Serena Burns, and at the merest hint of misbehavior he would demand her resignation.

'Don't say I didn't warn you,' he said, rising. He turned at the door, pointing a finger. 'I'll be watching.'

There was silence for a full minute after he left. Grinning, Warren raised his hand and they high-fived like kids.

'That was a first,' the president said.

'Felt good,' Colvin agreed. 'Let's take the wives out to dinner, I feel like celebrating.'

Serena sat concealed in the upper branches of a cottonwood tree across the street from Roger Colvin's home. Given the distance between the houses in this neighborhood and the road, she was nearly a half mile away. She wore charcoal

leggings and a matching hooded sweatshirt, black running shoes and gloves, and dark glasses. The only part of her that stood out was the pale skin of her forehead and cheeks. She'd been in position since four A.M., ignoring everything extraneous, including an incontinent pigeon.

The computer part of her brain was able to translate the images her eyes saw, bringing them in closer for detailed scrutiny. Right now she was watching Colvin's wife shepherd their young into the absurdly huge van that the well-off seemed to think essential for the most mundane chores.

The boy, dressed in a blue uniform, yellow neckerchief, and yellow-piped cap, was on his way to a scout meeting. The little girl in her pink coat and tights had a pediatrician's appointment. Or so Mrs. Colvin had told her husband as she stepped out the back door.

Serena heard this from her post in the cottonwood because she had high-powered microphones built into her DNA augmented ears, feeding directly into the part of her natural brain that governed hearing. Training and some of the animal DNA in her genes gave her the ability to move the external part of her ear to catch sound still more efficiently.

They should be gone for at least two hours, Mrs. Colvin had said.

Assuming that woman can ever get them into the van, Serena thought, genuinely puzzled at how long it was taking.

The boy had a toy in his hand that his mother apparently didn't want him to take with him. The child threw it on the ground with all his strength. A piece of it went flying. His mother picked up the toy and went to retrieve the part. Then she

hunkered down in front of her son, seemingly in order to reason with him.

Serena wasn't interested enough to listen. The child refused to look at his mother, his small face sullen.

Everything Serena had studied about humans from this time period indicated that the young were especially annoying. But the visible proof of it was still astounding. How did the species ever survive to this point? I'm amazed they don't eat their young at birth.

Finally, after much to-do and a chase around the van after the little girl, which ended when her brother punched her—though that began a whole new scene—

they headed out. The security gate opened at Mrs. Colvin's electronic command and the van drove off. This had taken half an hour. Serena shook her head in amazement. Then she started down the tree and casually jogged down the street.

There was a home nearby whose only security was a waist-high wall. It was owned by a man who apparently was unaware that the world was a dangerous place.

She made for the side of the property, where a neighbor had built a much higher wall, and climbed over. Then she carefully proceeded across the yard. There didn't seem to be any security here other than the walls. She shook her head. At least the humans in her time knew they were vulnerable.

Finally she was in the Cyberdyne CEO's backyard, squatting under a Douglas fir and watching Colvin sipping coffee as he read the paper. She really wasn't sure how he would react; it was a fifty-fifty situation. He might be impressed at her audacity, or he could become too hysterical for effective communication.

But she'd been able to find jobs for only two of her rivals and the longer she

waited the more certain she became that she needed to act. So it was time to play her ace.

The phone rang and Colvin got up to answer it.

Silently, Serena trotted over to the back door, picked the lock, slipped into the kitchen, and took his place at the table, hiding behind the newspaper as he talked on the kitchen phone.

'See you at two, then,' Colvin said cheerfully. He hung up the phone and turned.

And froze. There was a stranger reading his paper.

Serena looked playfully around the newspaper and smiled at him.

'Good morning, Mr. Colvin.' She snapped the paper closed.

Everything in his body, from his throat to his bladder, seized. Then he felt nauseous. All he could think of was that Michael Douglas movie Fatal Attraction. Thank God we don't own a bunny, he thought inanely.

After a moment he got his voice back. 'What the hell are you doing in my house?'

'I needed to see you privately,' Serena explained. 'For one thing I wanted to demonstrate to you just how rotten your security system is. Not to mention your locks. I opened the door to the room you were in and you didn't even know it!'

He blinked, then shut his mouth, letting anger take over.

'Are you even slightly aware of how creepy this is?' he demanded. 'You're invading my home! You couldn't call my secretary and ask for an appointment?'

Serena reached into her pocket. She suppressed a smile as she watched Colvin react to the potential threat. Then she pulled out a disk in its plastic case and slowly laid it on the table.

'I'm living,' she said, 'in a house with an interesting history.' She pushed the disk toward him with her fingertips, watching him watching her. Then she licked her lips and smiled. 'It used to belong to Miles Dyson. A lovely place, but people are uncomfortable with its history.' She shrugged, raising her eyebrows.

'So I got it very cheap.'

The CEO looked from the disk to the woman and back again.

'Are you suggesting that came from Dyson's place?' he asked.

He didn't believe her. They'd searched, thoroughly, and Dyson, or his kidnappers, had made a clean sweep of his work.

Serena rose, tipping her chin upward and regarding him from half closed eyes.

'The disk is a sample of what I've found.' She smiled slyly. 'Look it over and then you tell me where it came from.' She turned on her heels and walked to the door. 'You know where to find me when you want to talk.' She left without a backward glance.

Colvin stared at the closed door for a full minute, then experienced a full-body shudder that got him moving. In a few long strides he was across the room and locking the door. Not that it would keep her out, obviously, but it seemed the

appropriate thing to do.