Infiltrator

representing his book. He could see it all now, his entire future unscrolling like a movie. Oh, God! I can hardly wait.

An end to pesticides and herbicides, the outlawing of chicken and pig factories and the indescribable pollution their owners got away with causing. An end to genetic engineering of crops and food animals. The enforced use of alternate

energy sources, clean sources. A simpler, healthier life for everyone. More self- reliance, less automation, and a far less consumption-mad society. , He allowed his mind to wander, imagining every home with its own vegetable garden, people canning their own food, making their own clothes. Everyone busy, involved in their communities, concentrating on the important things in life while their televisions stood idle.

Except for certain hours on certain days of the week, he thought. We'll have educational programs on recycling and composting and the problems of the third world.

Ron shook his head at the wonder of his vision. It would take time, it would take patience, and sadly, it would take blood. There was no way around that. If people didn't literally fight for a cause they never accomplished anything.

It will have to be a worldwide phenomenon, he thought. Coordinated to break out on the same day. Perhaps he could start with some sort of computer virus, or several of them, working in waves, breaking down communications. Stop the bureaucrats cold and you've made a good start.

But first, get the message out there, get the ideas into the popular mind, convince them that this was the right, the good, the only alternative to their own personal poverty and death. That was the ticket, make it personal. Then, when things began to get violent, they'd find themselves half agreeing with his guerrillas, even against their will. Because by then he would have made it a part of their belief system.

A good beginning, Ron thought, closing his eyes and drifting down into sleep. A

very good beginning.

VON ROSSBACH ESTANCIA, PARAGUAY: THE PRESENT

Dieter sat at his desk sipping bourbon and feeling glum. Suzanne had stayed for a little while, but things had been awkward between them. With neither of them willing to discuss what had happened, they'd tiptoed nervously around topics of general interest.

After what felt like an eternity, they'd agreed that it was late and Suzanne had gone home. He'd walked her to her car, opened the door for her, she'd thanked him for dinner, they'd both said they would have to do this again sometime, and she'd driven away.

We'll have to do this again, sometime, he thought, giving himself over to melancholy. That's what people say when they hope they never see each other again. He didn't want it to be like this. He wanted it uncomplicated, just him and an attractive, intelligent, charming woman finding pleasure in each other's company. And perhaps something warmer. The possibility is definitely there.

He let out a great sigh and leaned back. That pig, Griego! Suzanne clearly didn't know what it was all about, but she knew it had something to do with her and was naturally distancing herself. Probably would continue to do so unless he could explain.

So, how do you explain to someone that you thought they might be a terrorist bomber, possible murderer, and, by the way, dangerous psychotic, in case you didn't get a hint from those first two things? Dieter took a swig of his drink.

Yeah, how did you do that?

Deep down inside himself a voice asked him how he'd come to the conclusion, despite strong evidence, including Griego's positive identification, that Suzanne Krieger was totally innocent.

He ignored it.

Dieter put down his glass and picked up the phone, dialing rapidly.

' fa?' said an annoyed and sleepy voice.

'Jeff!' Dieter said cheerfully, his heart grinding with resentment. 'Were you asleep?'

'At three in the morning? What a stupid question. Hang on, I'll change phones.'

There was a murmur in the background and then Nancy's voice was on the line.

'Dieder?' she muttered. 'Stob doing thish.'

'I've got it, honey,' Jeff said. There was a click and silence for a moment.

'Well?' Goldberg said. 'You there?'

' fa,' Dieter answered. 'I just had to call and thank you for the wonderful houseguest you wished on me.'

Jeff chuckled. 'Sorry about that,' he said. 'But we had to be sure.' His voice sharpened with eagerness. 'Is it her?'

'No.' Dieter waited a moment, then he recounted the events of the evening.

'What were you thinking of to send me such a pig? My housekeeper wants to

burn the sheets he slept on.'

Goldberg laughed at the story. Dieter could imagine his friend shrugging as he said, 'I had to be sure. You know how it is. And the guy is one of the few people who knew Sarah Connor in her active days.'

'If you find any other ex-friends of Sarah Connor,' von Rossbach growled, 'do me a favor and keep them to yourself.'

'Sorry.'

'You should be!' After a moment Dieter relented a bit. 'Tell Nancy I'm sorry I woke her up again. But not until tomorrow morning!'

'Okay, okay.' Jeff laughed. 'Griego must have been quite a package. I'm really sorry. I won't do it again. Sheesh!' He was silent a moment. 'You must like this lady,' he hazarded.

There was silence on the Paraguayan end of the line for a moment.

'I do,' Dieter admitted. 'She's a nice woman.'

Jeff grinned in the darkness of his home office. 'Good,' he said. 'About time. I'll look forward to meeting her.'

'Sure, if she's still speaking to me after tonight.'

Goldberg winced.

'Anyway, after all this I'm curious about Sarah Connor. Could you send me the

file on her case?' Dieter asked.

'You're bored, aren't you?' Jeff asked. 'I warned you retirement was boring.'

Dieter sighed. 'Give my love to Nancy.'

'Give my love to what's-her-name,' Jeff countered with a smile in his voice.

'Drop dead,' von Rossbach said, and hung up.

'You too, buddy.' Jeff hung up, turned off the lamp, and headed back to bed. He couldn't wait to tell his wife.

* * *

John looked up from the book he'd been not reading for the past hour at the sound of his mother's car and waited for her to come in.

'Hi,' she said, closing the door behind her and turning the lock.

'You're later than I'd thought you'd be,' he said. 'I was starting to get worried.'

Sarah grinned at him. 'If you were worried,' she said, 'you'd be doing the ninja thing up by Dieter's estancia.' She dropped onto the couch and leaned her head back for a moment. Then, groaning she straightened her neck to look at him, a smile playing about her lips. 'Torture and death? Poor Victor was very put out.'

John grinned, and shrugged. 'It worked, didn't it?'

'Pretty much,' she agreed. 'But you marked him. That wasn't wise under the

circumstances. Especially since you didn't mark him enough to really scare him.