'When you're certain no one else is nearby or watching, let the poor woman out.
Then bring her here for debriefing.'
'Roger that,' McGill said. He went back to scanning the area.
Dieter pulled into the gully just before seven-thirty, parking next to the gunrunner's pickup. He almost laughed at the relieved expressions on the faces of Bridges and Hardy. Then, instinctively, he wondered
Maybe they were just desperate for cash, but then again, maybe John was correct and they were planning something dirty. Though why they would before the money came into it was beyond him.
'Where ya'll been, buddy,' Waylon asked with a grin. 'Thought you was gonna be here at seven.'
Dieter took off his sunglasses and looked at him in surprise. 'You said seven-thirty.' He lifted his hands and shrugged. 'It's seven-thirty.'
'Told ja,' Luke said, and nudged his partner.
Waylon glared at him, then turned to Dieter with a smile. 'Anyways, you're here.
C'mon see what we've got.' He led von Rossbach over to the trunk of his car, lifted up a false bottom, and unzipped a protective covering. 'Dust gets into everything here if you're not careful,' Waylon said with a smile. 'You're welcome to try out any of these you like.'
Dieter was impressed at the change in Waylon, from good ol' boy to professional salesman, as well as relieved. That folksy charm got old fast. He was also impressed by the variety and quality of the goods offered, even though he'd known that Doc wouldn't steer him wrong. Still, some of this stuff was brand-
new and barely available to legitimate buyers.
Reaching into the trunk, he picked up a Barrett and worked the action; putting it to his shoulder, he checked the sight. Not light, but easy enough to use, and with enough punch to put down a Terminator. He noted several pieces that he wanted to purchase and started to ask about prices.
'I believe I've found von Rossbach's backup,' the Sector agent reported. 'A skinny guy with a CAR-15 aimed at the meeting place. Bridges and Hardy's backup is still in hiding.'
'Roger that,' the project pilot said. 'Hold your position. We'll just stand by and wait for Mr. Bridges to make his move. When he does, make certain von Rossbach's friend doesn't interfere.'
'Roger that,' the agent said. 'Out.'
The project pilot felt a spurt of excitement at the report. It had to be John Connor out there. At least he hoped it was—the reward for bringing him in would be immediate and very tangible. He smiled. Life was good.
He and his team had been in the area since noon. They'd checked out the gully and planted microphones in several spots as well as a couple of video cameras.
There'd be ample documentation of this bust. And since there were seven agents to manage it, the recordings should make good theater.
Idly he wondered why von Rossbach had changed clothes and vehicles. The woman's report of his terrible smell might explain the former, if not why he smelled so bad. But the change of vehicles? Admittedly, having a panic-stricken
woman hidden in the toolbox might explain that, even if it didn't explain why she was there in the first place.
The waitress had told them that von Rossbach claimed he couldn't find the meeting place and she offered to draw him a map, then the way he looked and smelled caused her to panic. The cook had come rushing to her aid and von Rossbach had thrown him through the window.
The project pilot could believe that; the former agent was both huge and muscular as well as specially trained. They'd sent paramedics to the diner and the cook was in pretty bad shape.
Scary.
The strange thing was he'd kidnapped the woman because he needed her to show him to the meeting place. But if that was true, then how had he managed to conceal a car and a change of clothes nearby? And why?
Maybe von Rossbach had just plain gone nuts; his behavior this evening was certainly crazy. Suddenly the Austrian's abrupt departure from the Sector seemed to put him under a cloud. Maybe he hadn't left so much as been asked to leave.
The project pilot shook his head. They'd find out when they had the man in custody.
If the problem was a mental breakdown, well, the Sector took care of their own.
But if von Rossbach had gone rogue, well… again, the Sector took care of their own.
The T-101 watched the humans milling around in the gully, chattering and
fondling weapons. Unfortunately John Connor wasn't among them. But when they captured von Rossbach they would find out where he was hiding quickly enough.
It checked on the rest of its team. The other Terminators had landed five miles away in another, wider gully and were now running toward this place at approximately twenty miles an hour. By the time they arrived it should be dark enough to hide their presence.
For now it marked time and watched the humans it would kill.
'Now this one here's my favorite,' Waylon said, picking up an Austrian Steyr assault rifle, a futuristic-looking bull-pup design with the magazine behind the pistol grip and a built-in optical sight.
Dieter glanced at the light weapon and dismissed it.
'I prefer something with a little more stopping power,' he said. Knowing that Bridges would, too, if the gunrunner had seen what the weapons would be used against. He leaned over and reached for a Carl Gustav recoilless rifle.
'Something more like this.' He hefted the weapon; it went over your shoulder, with grip and stock beneath the launching tube, and the shell would take out a light tank or armored car quite easily. Not bad on Terminators, either.
'Oh, I find this one has enough stopping power,' Waylon said cheerfully as he chambered a bullet. He pressed the gun to the back of the Austrian's head.
'Especially from this distance.'
Dieter froze, then slowly turned his head to give the gunrunner a narrow-eyed stare. 'What is this?' he asked, his voice deadly quiet.
'This is a bust, asshole!' Luke said. Laughing, he pulled out a pair of handcuffs.
'Just put your hands behind your back real smooth like,' Waylon said, 'so's my buddy can lock you up. Don't try no funny stuff. Hey, Luis!' he shouted.
Above them Luis stood, his rifle to his shoulder, his teeth glinting white in the gathering gloom as he grinned. 'Shit, Waylon!' he said gleefully. 'You got the bastard!'
'Told ya,' Waylon said smugly.
Luke approached von Rossbach cautiously and snapped a cuff on one of the big wrists; the band was almost too small and Hardy had to squeeze it shut.
Dieter winced as the metal pinched his flesh. His mind was working frantically.
John wouldn't shoot while the gun was to his head—at least he hoped not—or Bridges would probably squeeze the trigger reflexively and blow his head off.
On the other hand, John had never shot a man before. He might not be able to do it.
'Because you are worth a ton of money, buddy,' Luke said, clipping on the other cuff.
'We saw you on TV last night and we just had to hava you.' Waylon laughed, lowering the gun. Then he looked at von Rossbach more seriously. 'Besides, I don't hold with cop killin'. Figured it'd be worth more to me to turn you in than to sell you guns. Man in my Business never knows when he's gonna need a favor, and arrestin' you is gonna buy me a
