Infiltrator

'It's true,' Dan said. 'I didn't see him tear the skin off, but I saw his hand before he put the glove on it. He was a machine, and he told us about Judgment Day.'

'Oh, no!' Jordan said, raising a hand to stop them.

He rose from his chair and walked over to the kitchen counter and stood looking

out the window into the backyard. There was a bird splashing and fluttering in the birdbath and he looked at it in relief. It was something normal, something sane. After a moment he turned around to look at his sister-in-law and nephew, crossing his arms over his chest.

'It's bad enough that you're telling me that you bought into this woman's delusions,' he said. 'But you're also trying to tell me that my brother got killed trying to destroy his own work.' He took a few steps toward his sister- in-law.

'His own work, Tarissa.' Jordan hunched forward and sat down again. 'I knew Miles, Tarissa. He would not destroy his work. It meant'—he waved his hands in an encompassing gesture— 'ever'.

'Everything to him,' Tarissa said, her eyes infinitely sad. 'I know that.' She shook her head. 'But we couldn't deny what they'd shown us, what they'd told us. Their belief in what they were saying was absolute. And, frankly, there was no other way to explain the Terminator.'

'Terminator,' he said flatly.

She looked up at Jordan. 'They convinced us. If you'd been there you would have believed them, too.' Her eyes pleaded with him to believe her now.

Jordan's mouth twisted and he lowered his eyes, refusing to meet hers, more thoughtful than angry, Tarissa judged.

'It wasn't a fake arm,' she insisted. 'There isn't a prosthesis in existence that intricate. He walked in and started handling Miles—with both hands—like he was Danny's size. He said, 'Simple penetration, no shattered bone. Hold here, compression should stop de bleeding.' ' Tarissa sighed. 'It did, too. Then he

bandaged him.'

'Why are you talking in a German accent?' Jordan asked. His voice was cool.

'That's how it talked,' Dan said. 'It sounded German.'

'It?' Jordan said precisely.

'It wasn't human,' Tarissa said, giving him a look. 'What else would you call it?'

Jordan got up slowly and once again walked over to the counter, he turned and faced them, his arms crossed.

'You know, nobody knew that this guy was a German. You know why nobody knew that? Because no one, except the Connors… and you of course,' he said, nodding at them, 'had ever heard him speak.'

He looked at them, they looked at him. Suddenly Jordan laughed, it ended in a hiss. Jordan looked at his feet and his jaw worked.

'You know what I'm thinking of?' he asked. He rubbed one finger over his upper lip. 'I'm thinking of that conversation we had that night in the living room, Tarissa.' He rubbed his eyes as though crying and spoke in a falsetto voice. ' 'It's just too painful, I can't take it anymore. It's my way or the highway, Jack!' ' He spun and slapped his hands down on the counter, his jaw clenched.

The sound made Tarissa and Dan jump. She lowered her eyes, while Dan looked at her covertly. Tarissa felt the blood rise into her cheeks.

What am I feeling so ashamed for? she wondered. I was only doing what I

thought I had to do.

Jordan turned, but didn't make eye contact with them. He held up his hands and said, 'You know what? I've gotta go.'

'No!' Tarissa said. 'You don't have to leave, Jordan.'

'Yes. I do.' He started out of the kitchen and turned at the door to look at them.

He held up his hand. 'And you know why? It's because my family'—he looked into Tarissa's worried eyes —'the only people in the world I trusted, have withheld vital information about the murder of my brother for six years!'

'Jordan,' Tarissa said, rising.

'Oh, no, don't get up,' he said, waving a hand at her. 'I'll show myself out.'

'Uncle Jordie!' Dan said, springing up. 'Please… don't go.'

Jordan looked at him and his nephew stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide, his mouth open. For a moment anger flashed in Jordan's eyes and Tarissa straightened in alarm. His eyes flashed to meet hers and he swallowed, hard.

'I have to go,' he repeated, his voice choked.

Tarissa and Dan watched him go down the hallway, snatch up his suitcase, and leave without another word. After a moment, Dan looked up at his mother.

'What do you think will happen now?' he asked.

Tarissa put her arm around her son and gave his shoulders a squeeze. 'I don't

know, honey. I honestly don't.'

ON THE ROAD TO STARBURST: THE PRESENT

'We're leaving the eco-fair in Baltimore to attend a New Age event in Virginia,'

Peter Ziedman said into the camera his buddy Tony had trained on him. 'We're traveling in Labane's specially equipped van. Labane describes it as more of a heartland kind of vehicle because it's partially solar-powered. Which, of course, works better in the sunny center of the nation.'

'The United States,' Ronald said from the driver's seat. 'Say the center of the U.

S. or the Canadians will be offended.' His remark was greeted by puzzled silence. 'In case you want to submit this to the Toronto Film Festival.'

'Yeah! 'Tony said.

'Good thinkin',' Peter agreed.

Ron rolled his eyes, which at least briefly blocked the endless tackiness of the strip mall and Wal-Mart outside. These guys were hopeless. But they were paying all the expenses and he was beginning to get some forward momentum.

People were actually coming to hear him speak at an event. And Peter's message machine was getting more and more invitations for speaking engagements.

Ron had begun charging a speaking fee and the fees were increasing. But there was no point telling the boys that. He had them convinced that he was a genius at bargaining or exchanging labor for the posters and flyers they were helping him put up and pass out.

Eventually he would dump the kids by telling them: 'I have a message to spread and you two have careers to jump-start. You stay here and work on the film.' It was what they wanted to do anyway, so there would hardly be howls of protest when he suggested it.

Actually he'd seen some of their finished footage and he was both pleased and impressed. Peter and Tony might be dumb and easily manipulated, but they definitely had talent. It was a shame that their persistent naivete' would cost them any chance they had of making it.

'Funny, isn't it,' Ron said, 'that most of these eco-fairs we're going to are held in cities?'

'There's a lot of pollution in cities,' Peter said.

'There's a lot in rural areas, too,' Labane told him. 'For instance, there are farmers who use so much pesticide and weed killer that they won't eat what they grow. They've got separate gardens for their own families, but your kids are chowing down on stuff they wouldn't touch. And then there's those factory farms for pork and chicken.'

Tony shifted so that he could film Ron as he talked. It had been a little difficult to talk them into traveling in the van with him. But he'd convinced them that it would lend a certain cachet to their documentary. Which was true: there was nothing the Hollywood types liked more than tales of hardship endured for art's sake.

'Do you know there are actual lakes of pig feces?' Labane asked. 'It must be a