Rising Storm

'So, what? You were some kind of soldier of fortune?' Vera shifted a little nervously; this was not the way she'd imagined this conversation going.

'No.' Dieter took a sip of brandy. 'I was a covert antiterrorist operative. Now I'm a soldier of fortune.' He smiled at her. 'A very romantic designation, don't you think?'

She smiled in answer, a slight blush painting her cheek. Blinking rapidly, she took another sip of brandy herself.

'So, what do you want?' she asked.

Dieter took a deep breath and her eyes fastened on his chest.

She forced herself to look him in the eye. 'Maybe you should…' She gestured vaguely.

He knew what she meant and was happy to oblige, putting his shirt back on.

'Right now I want to get into the U.S.' He tipped a hand left and right. 'Under the wire, so to speak. I had hoped to perhaps gain your sponsorship of a mission of some importance.'

Secretly Vera had always daydreamed about someone coming into her life and tapping her for some desperate mission. Of course she was no fool. From time to time people had tried to manipulate her, tried to get her to support some drug deal or vicious tyrant-in-the-making. But she had resources that the average millionaire didn't have. Over the years she'd built up a network of friends and information gatherers who could give her the inside story on almost anyone.

Von Rossbach, oddly enough, was pretty much a mystery to them. Though they all said he had a rep as a stand-up guy.

Vera sat forward slowly, her eyes glowing with excitement.

'Tell me,' she demanded.

When he was finished Vera looked away, her eyes thoughtful, then her glance went back to him. 'So, all you want is to stop this one project?'

He nodded. 'But there are forces at work here that really believe in this project, and they have friends at the highest level.'

'I have friends at the highest level,' she said confidently. She smiled. 'I could

have a talk with them.'

Dieter shook his head, his face sad. 'No. This project is so black that the people you know probably aren't yet aware of it.'

A look of impatience crossed her still-pretty face. 'So how much do you want?'

How much will you give me? 'Two million,' he said aloud. For a start.

'Whoa! You don't want much, do you?' she said. 'You're rich, why don't you kick in?'

'My entire fortune is dedicated to stopping this project.' He shrugged self-deprecatingly. 'All I ask is that you consider it.'

Vera took a deep drag on her cigar, studying him with narrowed eyes through the smoke. She tightened her lips.

'All I have is your word on this.'

'That's right,' he agreed. 'And you don't know me very well, so you don't know that my word is good. But I don't know you very well either. And these are very secret matters. Until and unless you commit to this project; I'm not at liberty to tell you more. As I said, think about it. Consult with your friends about me. I only ask that you not mention what I've told you. It could be dangerous, for you and for them.'

'What about you?' she asked, arching a well-shaped brow.

Smiling ruefully, he shook his head. 'I'm in so deep I consider myself lost at sea.'

Vera snorted, then bit her lip. 'All right,' she said at last. 'I'll consider it.' She raised a finger. 'No promises. Understand?'

He raised his glass in salute. 'I've asked for nothing more.'

Vera returned from her business appointment feeling depressed and thoughtful.

The South American side of her affairs was doing all right, but hardly spectacularly well, and she was disappointed. Maybe it was time to do some pruning of her investments.

She leaned against the yacht's railing and sighed. It wasn't just business that had her down. This whole thing with von Rossbach/Ingolfson certainly hadn't lived up to her daydreams. She got so sick of people hitting her up for cash for this or that project.

Though with his money von Rossbach hardly needed to do that. Which made his appeal for money somewhat puzzling.

Though the appeal of those shoulders and that chest… Vera sighed again, this time in pleasure at the memory. Two million, hmm? That was a lot to pay for just a peek. She could tell by the way she was thinking that he was going to have to go begging for his money to somebody else. I do so hate being used, she thought, pouting.

On the deck below, a pair of hands grasped the railing, followed by von Rossbach. Vera stood back and stayed very still, watching as he came over the rail, soaking wet and… He's naked! Vera thought in disbelief.

She suppressed a laugh, watching as he looked all around, confident that he couldn't see her. She'd had this balcony at the back of her private quarters constructed so that she could see the deck below while being hidden herself.

There was something odd about von Rossbach, besides his being stark naked, but she couldn't put her finger on it. He finally moved off.

I have got to call him on this! she thought. If they were going to be cited for public nudity by the local police, she'd be the one blamed, and ticketed. She had some standards after all, the last thing she wanted was the reputation of running a floating brothel. She hurried out of her quarters, meaning to catch up with him.

Vera smiled as she imagined the expression on his face as she gave him a dressing-down while he stood there beautifully undressed.

The Terminator moved down the short, narrow corridor on its way to the crew quarters. The design of this yacht, with the exception of the owner's quarters, which were customized, had been on the builder's Web site, so it knew the layout of the ship. After observing the boat for two days it could also identify everyone on it. One of those humans was Dieter von Rossbach. The I-950 had affirmed the request to terminate.

Hearing voices coming from the stairway leading to the engine room, it pushed the volume on its microphones to high and hastened to the end of the corridor.

The T-101 flattened itself against the bulkhead and peered around the corner, looking down the stairs. A man turned at the door of the engine room and leaned in.

'I'll be back,' the one called Arnie shouted.

'Don't be too long.'

Voice-recognition software confirmed that the second speaker was von Rossbach. This was excellent. As it listened to Arnie's footsteps moving down the corridor, it could hear only one other set of footsteps within the engine room.

Its quarry was alone. There was a violent clash of machinery from the engine room and it lowered its volume to protect the sensitive auditory device. Then it moved quickly down the stairs.

***

Dieter was wishing the engine room were air-conditioned; his body was covered in oil and sweat and only a drenched headband kept it from stinging his eyes.

The captain had decided that while they had a few days they should perform basic maintenance on the yacht's engines. Essentially a tune-up with an oil change on a massive scale. Von Rossbach assumed he wanted it done here because local regulations about used oil were a lot less strict than they were in San Diego.

Right now he was steam-cleaning the engine and resenting Arnie taking off, leaving him to, literally, take the