Infiltrator

and his reputation was safe. Miles Dyson had been exonerated in the attack because of his wife's testimony that she and their son were being held hostage while he led the terrorists to Cyberdyne. The insurance companies were satisfied enough to promptly pay his family a death benefit. As far as the FBI was concerned, the case on Miles Dyson was closed.

And after so many years, with no reported sightings of either of them, the Connors' files were permanently at the bottom of the pile.

Except for Special Agent Jordan Dyson that is. He still spent a few hours each week trying to find something out about their whereabouts and current activities.

She knew he was aware of Cyberdyne's new address and its renewed interest in his brother's work. A dated note on his computer said, 'Miles's project!' He'd checked the advertisement for a head of security several times.

Serena suspected that he thought the reopening of his brother's project would bring the Connors out of hiding. As do I. And he will be helpful in seeing that they are stopped. Which gives us something in common…

He could be very useful under the right circumstances, which meant directly under her control. Otherwise he could be a loose cannon.

She sent out the ad with the touch of a key. If he didn't call in the next week or so, she'd contact him. The 1 -950 doubted he'd be able to resist the lure of unlimited time to search for his brother's killers.

WILMINGTON, DELAWARE: THE PRESENT

WANTED: Assistant head of security at Cyberdyne Systems. Some law-enforcement background preferred. FBI experience ideal. Excellent benefits, pay commensurate with experience. Inquire…

Jordan could feel the blood drain from his face. My God, he thought. It's like they're looking for me! He leaned back in his chair and stared at the screen.

His compact living room/office was dark except for the small pool of light cast by his desk lamp. Jordan liked it that way; there were fewer distractions. He pushed himself up out of his chair and began to pace rapidly through the shadowed room, rubbing his chin and brushing his hand over his close-clipped hair.

This was perfect, like a call to action, like a message from God even. He stopped, his eyes gazing into a possible future. He saw himself on hand when the murdering Connors were finally captured. He was the one to put the cuffs on the big cop killer who hung out with them.

A pleasant image, but he knew he'd be better off trying to figure out how he could explain his plans to his boss. Ideally he'd get permission to go undercover at Cyberdyne to wait for the Connors and whomever they'd recruited.

Unfortunately that would be a conflict of interest. Besides, everyone at the

Bureau was convinced that the Connors had died in the Brazilian jungle. Their big friend had disappeared even before they hit the border. Whether he was dead or had merely deserted them was unknown.

Whatever. The upshot was that he'd be attempting to convince his superior to allow him to go undercover to wait for people who were considered dead. The Bureau would think he was nuts.

Jordan briefly toyed with the idea of saying he needed time off to get his head together, then taking the Cyberdyne job. He rejected the idea at once. Lying to your supervisor was the best and quickest way he knew to get yourself fired.

That left quitting.

Jordan sat heavily in his armchair, his hand over his eyes. I don't want to quit!

He loved his job, he liked the people he worked with, he even liked the Bureau and its stodgy, ultra- respectable air. He sighed and dropped his hand.

Leaning his head against the chair back, he looked at the room. Very masculine, with a leather sofa and chairs in dark brown, clunky Mission end tables, and a trunk for a coffee table. He like his apartment, he liked this city. He clutched the heavily padded arms of his chair. I like my job.

But if I work for Cyberdyne I'll be living near Danny and Tarissa. He'd like to be there for his nephew; twelve was an age when a boy needed a man's influence.

So. What it comes down to is this: What are you willing to sacrifice to get your brother's killers?

So far he'd neatly skirted that issue. Oh, he'd gotten himself into trouble, of a

sort. His record at the Bureau was peppered with reprimands for spending too much time on a dead case, or for being involved in it at all, actually. He was considered—legitimately—to be too close to the subject of the investigation.

But if I quit and this works out the way I think it will, then there's a chance I might be able to get myself reinstated—

The phone rang and he grabbed it like a lifeline.

'Dyson,' he said shortly.

Tarissa's warm chuckle greeted him. 'You sound like an old-time detective when you answer the phone like that,' she said.

'Hey, just tryin' to keep up my G-man image. Wassup, sis?'

There was a pause.

'Everything's all right?' he asked immediately.

'Nothing's wrong,' she answered. 'But we want to talk to you, Jordan. When can you come out here? We'd like it to be face-to-face.'

'Oh. Uh-huh. That sounds like nothin's wrong all right.' He thought for a moment. 'Danny's not getting into drugs, is he?'

'Oh, God no!' she said, sounding both amused and disgusted. 'He's fine! It's about something else entirely.' She waited a moment. 'So? When could you… ?'

'I'll talk to my supervisor tomorrow,' he said. 'How urgent is this? Will

Thursday be soon enough?'

'More than soon enough. Thank you, Jordan.'

'No problem. See you Thursday, then.'

'Okay, thanks. Talk to you then.'

He hung up. She'd sounded so nervous at the end. What the hell was that all about? He felt a little worry about Danny, despite Tarissa's reassurance. He felt energized and wished he could get on a plane right now. Not possible, of course, but the desire burned bright.

But, man, talk about a sign! If he'd been the kind of guy to ask for such a thing, this had to be it.

He sat at his desk and brought up his resume, then sent it off to Cyberdyne with a request for an appointment on Friday. He was about to sign off when the answer came back. Jordan's jaw dropped.

'An appointment has been made for you with Ms. Serena Burns, executive head of security of Cyberdyne Systems Corporation at three P.M. on Friday the twenty-third.' There were travel instructions to the facility with information about the high-grade security procedures he would have to follow in order to gain access to Cyberdyne.

Hey, he thought, maybe they really were looking for me. With a few taps he downloaded the information they'd sent and printed it out. Nah! Either I'm getting paranoid or my ego is swollen. They probably have a program set up to

answer applications. This was Cyberdyne after all— If- A-Computer-Can't-Do-It-It-Can't-Be-Done, Inc.

So. Things were really moving now. He'd better remember to bring a couple of boxes to work tomorrow, just in case he needed to clean out his desk. For now he'd better turn in and try to get some sleep.

He shut down the computer and tried to shut down his mind. Bed, he thought.

Let tomorrow take care of itself.

CHAPTER TEN