Infiltrator

the news. And if he called to ream her out she could always plead innocence.

'We-el,' she said, 'he only left a couple of days ago and I haven't heard from him yet. Maybe you could get in touch with him through Cyberdyne.'

There was a ringing silence at that and Pat winced again.

'Oh!' Tarissa said at last. It felt as though her eyebrows had disappeared into her

hairline. 'Well… that certainly is a surprise.' She narrowed her eyes and forced herself to sound jaunty. 'But it will be great to have him living so close by.'

Paulson relaxed a little. 'I think he'll like that,' she said. 'He's always talking about you guys.'

'Well, I'll try to get in touch with him at Cyberdyne, then,' Tarissa said brightly.

They said good-bye and hung up. Tarissa leaned against the counter, hugging herself as she thought about this. Miles's project. Jordan had anticipated that the Connors would show up to put a stop to it.

And he's right, she thought, rubbing the knuckles of one hand against her lower lip. She dropped the hand with a sigh. I wish I knew where they were. I wish I could talk to them. She didn't want to stop them from destroying Cyberdyne; she only wanted to prevent them from killing Jordan. Who, meanwhile, will be doing his damnedest to stop them any way he can.

She brushed back her hair. Well, she couldn't talk to the Connors. But maybe she could talk to Jordan again. Maybe even get through to him this time.

She found the Cyberdyne number and called, was transferred and transferred again until she found herself speaking to Serena's secretary.

'I'm trying to locate Jordan Dyson,' Tarissa said.

'He's not here at the moment, but I can take a message for him if you like.'

Damn! Well, why not? After being switched hither and yon Tarissa figured this

was the best she was going to do today.

'Yes, please. Could you tell him that Tarissa asks him to please remember what she told him?'

The secretary's gossiping instincts perked up. 'Certainly, Ms… ?'

'Dyson,' Tarissa said.

'Ms. Dyson. I'll see that he gets your message, ma'am.'

'Thank you.' Tarissa hung up. Maybe that'll shake him out of his huff, she thought. Maybe not. Maybe only time would do that. I hope not, she thought. I miss him already.

CYBERDYNE: THE PRESENT

'So,' Serena said, ushering Jordan into his new office, 'we end the grand tour here.'

'This is mine?' Jordan said.

The office was exactly the same size as Burns's, though more blandly furnished.

It was located directly across the hall from hers. Very nice, he thought. Here at Cyberdyne, where there were no windows, status came from the size of your space and this was about as large as an office could get here.

'Mm-hm,' Serena said. 'For the time being we'll share my secretary, Mrs.

Duprey. If it looks like that will be an unreasonable burden on her, we'll get you an assistant of your own.'

'Thank you,' Jordan said. He was used to sharing a secretary. 'I'm sure it'll be fine.'

'I'll leave you to get to work, then,' Serena said. 'I've posted everything we have on the Connor case onto your computer. If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask. I meant what I said when I told you I consider this to be top priority.'

Jordan looked at the computer. 'Great,' he said. 'I'll get right on it.'

She smiled at him, a slow satisfied smile that sent a little shiver down his spine.

'I can see you're eager to get to work,' she said. 'So I'll leave you to it.' She offered her hand and he took it. 'Welcome aboard, Mr. Dyson.'

'Great to be here, Ms. Burns.'

With a nod Serena pulled his door closed behind her and crossed the hall. She stopped at Duprey's desk and the secretary looked up at her with birdlike brightness.

'Mrs. Duprey,' Serena said confidentially, 'I've told Mr. Dyson that you will be acting as his administrative assistant as well as my own for the time being.'

Duprey's face and posture stiffened and it amused the 1-950 to realize that even a human could have read her displeasure. is it because of his race? she wondered.

Or does she think he might be an unredeemed sinner? Not that it mattered to Serena one way or the other. Perhaps she'd been too lenient with Mrs. Duprey.

But the woman was a veritable fount of illicit information. Still, maybe it's time

to, as she would put it, put the fear of God into her. After all, it wouldn't do to have her gossiping about what went on in the security office.

Serena straightened. 'If that's not to your taste, Mrs. Duprey, perhaps I should have human resources'—how she loved that term—'send up a more accommodating secretary. Then you could work for someone else.'

The secretary's jaw dropped.

'But I would hate to do that, Mrs. Duprey. I've come to rely on you. Your efficiency, your discretion—these are not common traits. Most of all I prize your loyalty.' Serena allowed herself to look troubled. 'I wish you would think about it before you decide.' She smiled weakly. 'I've very much enjoyed working with you.'

'Of course I'll stay!' the woman said. 'I've enjoyed working with you, too.'

Serena smiled mistily and offered her hand, the secretary took it, and they had a special moment together. The t-950 squeezed the human's hand slightly. 'Well, back to work,' she said. 'I'm sure Mr. Dyson won't need you to do things for him too often.'

'Oh,' Duprey said, rising, 'I have a message for him.'

'Why don't you go and give it to him,' Serena suggested. 'It will be a perfect opportunity to get acquainted. I'm relying on you to make him feel welcome.'

'That's a good idea, Ms. Burns,' the secretary said, rising. She picked up a slip of pink paper and started across the hall, then turned. 'You know you can rely on

me, Ms. Burns.'

'I do,' Serena said seriously, then entered her office, grinning as she closed the door behind her. Ah, humans, she thought as she started toward her desk. They provided such great comic relief.

She sat down and probed the ether, receiving no answer from her Terminator.

Meaning that he has been… terminated. She felt anger spurt and suppressed it ruthlessly. Useless emotion. What was the point of anger? It interfered with clear thinking and as far as she could see had no productive results. Unless you were so primitive that you needed an uncontrolled spurt of hormones for maximum fight-flight efficiency.

Obviously the Connors had been ready for trouble. Due, no doubt, to the interference of von Rossbach and Griego. True, they wouldn't have been expecting a Terminator, but they were primed for trouble. With those two, as history had proven again and again, that was all it took. She felt a prickle of disquiet. Or quantum effects could be at work, the inertia of the time-stream seeking to bend events back toward the maximum probability, the time line that had originally seen John Connor destroy Skynet.

She hit speed dial for the number that Cassetti had given her. It had amused her at first to know it belonged to a restaurant and that he was some low-status employee there. Now she was simply impatient as the phone was answered,

'Mario's!' accompanied by the cacophony of a kitchen.

'Marco Cassetti,' she said.

'Marco!' the man bellowed. There was a pause. 'No,' he said. Another pause.