Infiltrator

So this guy disappears completely for ten years, and after killing seventeen cops the dragnet for him was one of the most comprehensive of the twentieth century, then he shows up helping the woman he tried so hard to kill. Did psychotics ever do that? Do a one eighty and suddenly offer succor and support to those they'd once marked for death?

Well, whether they did or not, that's what appeared to have happened this time.

Much to Cyberdyne's sorrow. So was the Cyberdyne raid just another shot in the dark against the super- computer that Kyle Reese said was going to destroy mankind? Or was it the displacement of Sarah Connor's guilt onto an innocent corporation?

Or was Kyle Reese telling the truth?

Certainly Sarah Connor had been inactive since the Cyberdyne raid— despite the fact that Cyberdyne had started up other facilities. Connor had ignored them.

This would seem to indicate one of two things. She was dead, or she was convinced that she had destroyed Cyberdyne's capacity to create that devil computer and was unaware of Cyberdyne's resurgence.

And if she did become aware of it?

A sudden image of Suzanne's face came into his mind. She looked so much like Sarah Connor. And when she first saw me she ran like a rabbit. And whom did he just happen to resemble? The cop killer. Who, the last time he was on the scene was her friend and helper. So why run?

'Arrrrggghh!' Dieter rubbed his head vigorously. This was making the inside of his head itch. There was no help for it, he was going to have to confront Suzanne. He reached for the phone and dragged it over. Might as well get it over with.

WILMINGTON, DELAWARE: THE PRESENT

Jordan opened the door to find Pat Paulson and two other agents on his doorstep, pizza and six-packs in hand. They crowded in, not even waiting for his invitation. The scent of double-cheese-pepperoni-and-anchovies wafted enticingly from the cardboard carton, and he'd just decided to order Italian rather than Chinese.

'First, we eat,' Paulson said. 'Then we pack.'

Jordan raised his hands helplessly and let them drop.

'You guys,' he said helplessly, grinning.

'What, we're gonna let you do it all yourself?' Pat said.

'Solidarity!' one of the others cried, and everybody answered, 'Unh!'

'You sound like a union,' Jordan said, laughing. ' And you got anchovies. You never get anchovies when we order pizza.'

'Hey,' Westin said, popping open a can of beer and handing it to him. 'Paulson says you've landed this dream job. Make me jealous, tell me everything.'

So he did. And as Paulson said, they ate, they drank, they packed. As the evening drew to a close he saw that he had very little left to do and he was grateful.

'Hey, you guys…' He spread his hands. 'Thanks.'

There was a chorus of 'Hey, no problem!' and 'What are friends for?'

Jordan shook his head, his grin fading to seriousness.

'I'm gonna miss you,' he said. And he meant it. Unlike his family, the Bureau had never let him down. But he knew in his heart that Tarissa and Danny would take him back in a minute. Unfortunately it would be difficult, make that probably impossible, to return to the Bureau. And that hurt; it hurt a lot.

'Aw, you're gonna have me cryin' ' O'Hara said, and she hugged him.

The men shook his hand and Pat hugged him and bussed his cheek loudly. 'Oh,'

she said. 'I almost forgot. Dieter von Rossbach called the office today looking for you.'

'Who?' Jordan asked, frowning.

'He used to be an agent with the Sector, but now he's retired. He said he was thinking of writing a book about the Cyberdyne case and he wanted your input.'

Jordan's face went still and he put his hands on his hips, shifting from one foot to the other.

She shook her head affectionately. 'If it was anybody else I wouldn't even have taken his number,' she said, holding up a slip of paper. 'But he was with the Sector and he was one of their best. You could do worse than to talk to him.'

She shrugged, then slapped him on the upper arm. 'It's up to you, babe.'

Jordan took the slip of paper and looked at it thoughtfully. 'Thanks.' He looked up at her from under his brows.

She grinned and shook a warning finger at him. 'You keep in touch. Hear?'

He kissed her cheek and waved to the others as they drove off, then closed the door, looking at the number with a frown. Maybe. But not now. Right now he still had some odds and ends of packing to take care of.

Jordan looked around and realized that if he pushed it he could finish the job tonight. His lips twisted wryly. Not a lot to show for five years, he thought. Of course he was a bachelor, and often on the road. His home was more of a convenience than anything, slightly more intimate than a hotel room. What does that say about me, I wonder?

Instead of answering himself he picked up an empty box and marched briskly into the bedroom. I will not become maudlin, he thought. That way lies regret.

And regret led to doubt and doubt led to failure. And he already had plenty of

that to deal with, thank you.

LOS ANGELES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT: THE PRESENT

Serena dropped the Terminator off at the terminal and drove away. She glanced in the rearview mirror and watched it disappear inside, carry-on luggage in hand.

The 1-950 felt a faint pang of wistfulness, such as she imagined a human might feel when dropping her child off for its first day of school.

That is, if you can consider the termination of Mary Warren and her friends to be kindergarten, she thought wryly, swerving to avoid a car with New Mexico license plates whose driver had apparently never heard of turn signals.

Things were definitely looking up. Paul Warreri was coming back to work today and a meeting he would chair was scheduled for tomorrow. About time, she thought. While he'd been away he'd been completely beyond her reach.

Best of all, within the day, the threat the Connors posed would be eliminated.

Serena could not help but be elated. If only she continues to be so complacent, she thought. It was to be hoped that Connor would focus on von Rossbach as her greatest danger, leaving herself and her son vulnerable to the Terminator that had been dispatched to destroy them.

'It' could still fail. Others had. But there were more of them here now. And that would make all the difference.

CYBERDYNE, SKYNET LABORATORY: THE PRESENT

'The subhuman knowingly poisons the pure blood of the Rryan female with

sexual diseases; where the Jew is, syphilis follows as plague follows rats…'

Serena blinked at the sound of the flat, slightly aspirated voice as it recited.

There were just the beginnings of the voice she'd heard since birth in it and something swelled in her breast at the sound.

'Incapable of genuine creativity, the Semite, with devilish cunning, poisons and pollutes the well of culture on which he is simultaneously a parasite…'

She frowned as she listened to what the computer was actually reciting. What kind of nonsense is this? she asked herself. She glanced over at Kurt Viemeister, who was intently watching a voice- scan monitor.

'What is it reciting?' she asked aloud.

Kurt looked up, frowning distractedly. Then his eyes cleared as he recognized her.