T2 Rising Storm, page 30
part #2 of Terminator Series
"Thank you," he said, his voice ardent with relief. He listened to the silence on her end and asked tentatively, "You're not mad, are you?"
"No. Just kind of creeped out. I'll see you on-line."
"Okay… Wendy?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you, you know." Somehow he sensed a smile, then he heard it in her voice.
"I love you, too," she said. Then, briskly, "Give me ten minutes."
"You got it."
They said affectionate good-byes and he hung up. For a few minutes he just lay back on his bed smiling. She loved him.
True, it wasn't 100 percent perfect; she also doubted his sanity. But she's coming through for me anyway. He kept on smiling. Love was really strange. But it was also the best feeling he'd ever had.
*Okay,* Wendy said, *I don't know how useful this will be, but to me it seems to tie in with what you want to know. *
*Shoot,* John told her.
*You remember when I told you that Craig Kipfer guy said something that sounded like an order to kill someone?*
* Vaguely.*
*Well, I kept checking into this guy and finally broke through some kind of wall. About the same time he said "Send her to Antarctica," he was getting reports on someone from Montana. They were more detailed than you'd expect; there was a lot of material about her uncle, for instance. It looked for all the world like they were investigating her for a high-level, top-secret government job.*
John took her at her word. He'd figured that since Wendy probably saw herself in a top-secret government job one day, she'd look into this sort of thing.
*And this was about Clea Bennet?* he asked.
*No names were mentioned,* Wendy wrote. *But Clea Bennet is from Montana, where she was raised by an eccentric uncle, recently deceased. All the particulars match, even if they didn't call her by name. So what do you think?*
*I think I'd better look this stuff over. Thanks, Wendy.*
*No prob. I really do want to help, you know.*
*I know. Thanks. I'd better get to work on this.*
*Yeah,* she said. *See you soon.* I wish, John thought. *Love you.* *Love you,* she wrote, then she was gone.
He began reading the reports she'd sent, finding them dry but very interesting. They did seem to match the few facts offered on the video. Antarctica? he thought. What are we supposed to do now?
They'd gathered in Dieter's study to discuss Wendy's information. The comfortable room was lit by a single lamp and the light was dim, making the space feel more intimate. The French doors were open, letting in soft bree/es laden with the scent of the garden.
Dieter was in the big chair behind his desk, feet propped up on a low filing cabinet. John and his mother were in the smaller, more formal chairs in front of him.
"You're kidding, right?" Sarah said. His mother wasn't so much frowning as looking puzzled. "I mean, it's not much to go on. Or I should say not much to go to Antarctica on."
John smiled at that. "No, but it's the best lead we've got." He tilted his head toward her. "So if you were looking for someone and you dug this up, what would you do?"
Sarah looked down, twisting her mouth wryly. After a beat she raised her hands in surrender. "I'd go to Antarctica."
Dieter hadn't said anything when John had presented Wendy's information. John looked over at him and found the Austrian apparently deep in thought.
"Hey," John said quietly. "Big guy."
Von Rossbach's narrowed gaze slid toward him.
"What do you think?" John asked.
"I think I remember hearing, just before I retired, the vaguest of hints about the possibility of someone creating a super-secret laboratory 'on ice.' At the time I thought it was a metaphor," Dieter said. "But maybe not." He took his feet off the cabinet. "Let me make a few calls, find out what I can about this."
"Meanwhile, John and I can do some research on what sort of equipment we'll need." Sarah turned to her son and smiled.
John glanced at Dieter, who looked away quickly.
"What?" Sarah asked, looking between them.
John hesitated. "Well…" He looked to Dieter for support, but the big man was looking out into the garden. John turned back to his mother and took her hand.
Raising her brows at the sentimental gesture, she looked at Dieter, too, frowned as he continued to stare out the door, and, her expression turning suspicious, turned back to John.
"You're still not a hundred percent, Mom." He took a deep breath. "Not enough to go hiking around Antarctica." He nodded once, looking deeply into her eyes.
Sarah frowned, then she let out an exasperated breath and looked away. To find herself confronting Dieter's concerned eyes. "Okay!" she said, throwing up her hands. "You're right. I'm not a hundred percent. But"—she pointed at John—"you're too valuable to risk. So where does that leave us?"
They both looked at Dieter.
He laughed and held up his hands. "Before we decide who is going, let's make sure of our destination."
"Sounds reasonable." Sarah rose and crooked her finger at John. "Let's leave our host to it, shall we?" With that, she walked from the room.
John followed her out, saying, "You're not mad, are you, Mom?"
"No, John, I'm not mad."
He was quiet a moment. "You sound mad."
"I'm not mad!"
Dieter smiled. She might not be mad, but she wasn't happy, either.
While they'd been thrashing out whether Sarah was to go or not, he'd been wondering if he dared call his old friend Jeff Goldberg, his former partner in the Sector.
I suppose I might as well, he thought. Sully must have made a report by now, and even if he hadn't, they already knew about my association with the notorious Sarah Connor. Which means that Jeff knows, too.
He went to the wall and took down a heavily framed painting, setting it to lean against the file cabinet. Then he worked the combination of the safe it had hidden. Removing the valuable papers and other odds and ends inside the surprisingly deep little safe, he opened a tiny secret compartment with a few deft touches. Inside was a cell phone.
In Vienna, Jeff had one just like it.
When Dieter had retired they'd decided to arrange a private means of communication in the event that either ever had need of the other's aid. At the time von Rossbach had been thinking that his partner, still active in a very dangerous profession, might need his help. It just went to show you; a backup plan was always a good idea.
He placed the phone on his desk and booted up his computer. Once on the Internet he sent off the coded message that would bounce through a few different addresses before it reached Jeff. Then he sat back to wait. It could be a while.
An hour and a half later the phone rang. Dieter snatched it up. "Yes?" he said.
"I don't even know why I'm talking to you."
"It's because in spite of everything you've heard, you know you can trust me," Dieter said.
"If I can trust you then why does it look like you've gone over to the other side?" Jeff's voice was stressed, not usual.
Dieter wondered if, in spite of their precautions, this call was being monitored—if Jeff was letting this call be monitored.
"You know me better than that," von Rossbach said dismissively. "What's the gossip about me?"
"Gossip? If it was gossip I could doubt it. I'm talking about official reports, Dieter."
"And what am I supposed to have done in these reports?"
"For starters, harboring a wanted fugitive!" Goldberg snapped.
"When was this?" Careful, Dieter thought. You don't want to antagonize him any further.
"You know goddamn well when. You were the one who sent me those sketches of her. Then you said the description didn't match. And of course I believed you because my good buddy wouldn't lie to me! Next thing I know, you're running around California recruiting for her army!"
Dieter was silent for a while as he gathered his thoughts. He'd thought he knew what he was going to say, thought he knew how to counter any arguments Jeff might throw at him. But now that the moment was here he found he couldn't use any of those glib explanations, because most of them were lies. He couldn't do that to a man who had been at his back through most of his dangerous career. He'd already done it too often.
Dieter took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I owe you an apology," he said. "I did know it was probably her, but I was intrigued and wanted to investigate her by myself. Especially when you sent me that recording of a man with my face killing police by the dozen. I was bored here and feeling useless." He shrugged, though his former partner couldn't see it. "Then you sent Griego and I felt like I had to defend my turf. It wasn't sensible, and I know it wasn't professional, but I'd gotten to know her a little by then and I wanted to know more."
Goldberg was silent for a long time. "Go on," he said at last, his voice giving nothing away.
Dieter felt relieved. At least he was being given a chance to explain. "One night I went over to her house." He frowned at the memory. "I was bringing a dog for her son, more of a puppy, really." He took a deep breath and forced himself to continue. "Before I knew it we were under attack. By a heavily armed man with my face."
"Bullshit!" Goldberg snapped.
"I wish. God, do I wish you were right." Until this moment he hadn't realized how much he would give for all that had happened to have been a dream. "But you're not. The face was mine, but this man was no more human than that cell phone you're holding. I saw the body. It had no internal organs—just metal, wire, motherboards, stuff like that. There were sparks flying out of it and it took an incredible amount of ammunition to stop the damn thing."
"Do you think I'm an idiot!" Goldberg shouted. "What the hell is the matter with you?"
Dieter kept silent for a moment; he tightened his mouth and closed his eyes as if in pain. "Jeff," he said quietly, "I had a whole bunch of lies made up to tell you. I was going to be investigating this thing on my own, trying to find out how far Connor's influence extended. You know me. I'm good at being convincing when I need to be. You'd have believed me before I was finished with you. But you deserved the truth, so I took a chance and told it to you."
Jeff was breathing hard, his breath whistling though the phone. "Shit!" he muttered.
"Believe it or not, I know how you feel," Dieter commiserated. "Why would I tell you a story like this if it wasn't true? Don't you think I know how all this sounds? Why would I even try if it wasn't true?"
He stopped talking, waiting for his old partner to work it through.
"She could have talked you 'round," Jeff said at last. "Connor was a damned attractive woman." His voice was wary, but much less hostile.
"Yeah, and I'm really susceptible to wild stories and sexy women. That's why I was such a rotten agent." Von Rossbach sneered.
Jeff gave a short laugh. "Nooo, you were pretty good."
"I still am."
"Yeah, well. This is a pretty crazy story, buddy. You know that."
"Have you seen Sully's report?"
"Sully is, uh, undergoing psychiatric evaluation. You know he's one of ours?"
"Would I ask about his report if I didn't?"
"Good point."
"Jeff, Sarah Connor is crazy, her son is crazy, Sully's crazy. Now I'm crazy? Maybe instead they've been telling the truth all along?"
Goldberg gave a kind of hiss. "I can't go there, buddy. I just can't."
"Are you at least willing to think about it?"
After a rather painful silence Goldberg said, "Yeah. I could do that."
"Good. I need your help."
Jeff barked a laugh. "You cocky bastard! You sure you don't want to give me two more seconds to mull this over?"
"Yes."
"Well, what the hell. I figured you wanted something, otherwise we wouldn't be talking on these phones. Right?"
"You got it, buddy." Von Rossbach waited, wanting his friend to ask.
"So what do you want?" Jeff said.
"I'm trying to trace a possible kidnap victim."
"Whoa! If you're talking about Sarah Connor, she took off on her own. If you're talking about Dr. Silberman, how do you think we know that she took off on her own?"
Dieter winced. He wanted to tell the truth. But I think I've tried Jeff's patience enough for one evening. "What are you talking about?"
There was a pregnant pause from Vienna. Then Goldberg asked cautiously, "You don't know?"
"Sarah Connor is missing again?" Dieter asked. "Last I heard she was in an institution."
"If you don't know where she is and what she's doing, then why are you rounding up recruits for her cause?" Jeff challenged.
"Because I promised her I would before she disappeared from here. I don't know how much good I've done her. Being chased all over California by the Sector didn't help my efforts. But in any case, she's not the person I'm talking about."
"Oh." Jeff was silent a moment. "So, what? Are you a PI now or something?"
"No, just letting my curiosity get the better of me. This woman is named Clea Bennet, she's the inventor of something called Intellimetal. They made this sculpture in New York out of it."
"Yeah. Venus Dancing, it's called. It's all the rage, everyone's pretty excited about it. Nancy wants us to go see it for ourselves," Goldberg said.
"Clea Bennet has been missing for a little while now," Dieter explained. "I have some suspicion that it might have been the U.S. government that snatched her."
"You sure that suspicion isn't an effect of the people you've been hanging out with?"
Dieter let out an exasperated sigh. "This guy named Craig Kipler's been getting reports on a woman from Montana. The reports read like Bennet's biography. Kipfer passed along an order, I quote, 'send her to Antarctica,' that jogged a memory for me. Just before I left the Sector there were hints of someone building an important and very secret research facility 'on the ice.' Do you know anything about that?"
Jeff was absolutely silent.
"Hello?" Dieter prompted.
"Kipfer isn't someone you should have heard about," Goldberg said at last. "He is like, ultra-black ops. As for the research facility…"
There was more contemplative silence, but Dieter waited it out this time.
"I can't believe I'm telling you this, but… yeah. It's there. We know where it's located, but aside from that we know very little. The only thing we can be sure of is that they're not doing nuclear testing. For once the Americans are playing their cards close to their chests. Though to be fair, it's not the kind of place that's easily infiltrated."
"So who have you got there?" Dieter said blandly.
Jeff laughed. "None of your business. Even if we did have somebody there you probably wouldn't know them."
"So where is this base?"
Dieter waited; would his friend come through for him? Jeff had no particular reason to cover for the U.S. government, but at the moment neither did he have a particular reason to help his old partner.
"You're not going to blow it up are you?" Jeff asked sourly.
Von Rossbach laughed in surprise. "No! That's not the plan anyway. I might try to rescue this young woman. Assuming she's there under duress, of course."
"Tsk!" Jeff said. "I thought you were out of the hero business."
"You going to tell me or not?" Dieter asked.
"Don't make me regret this," Goldberg warned.
"I won't. I swear," Dieter said, fingers crossed. After all, who knew?
"It's in west Antarctica." Jeff gave him the coordinates. "The base itself is slightly inland." He gave a brief physical description of the place. "You could hike there from the coast in three days."
"Thanks, Jeff."
"Dress warm."
"Yes, Dad. Give my best to Nancy."
"You bet." Goldberg paused. "God, Dieter, don't make me regret this, please."
"Don't worry."
"Just don't. Okay?"
"You'll get old and gray worrying like that," Dieter teased. "I'm just curious, is all. I like a good puzzle."
"If you hear from Connor—"
"I won't."
"Yeah, right. Don't blow anything up," Jeff warned.
"But that's the fun part!"
Jeff hissed in exasperation, then laughed. "Y'know, you're right."
Dieter laughed, too. "Bye, buddy. Thanks."
"I am so going to regret this," Jeff said, sounding more amused than worried.
"No comment. Bye." Dieter hung up.
This American base must be one of Jeff's projects, otherwise he wouldn't have the information at his fingertips like that. A lucky break, Dieter thought.
He'd check with Sarah and John to see how their research on supplies was going. Then he'd see about arranging transportation.
Sarah looked up as Dieter appeared in John's doorway. "It's amazing how many Web sites there are dealing with tourism in Antarctica," she said by way of greeting. "Apparently going there is really popular. Who knew?"
"Give me Paris any day," John muttered, typing rapidly.
"Ah, yes," said Dieter, "we'll always have Paris."
Sarah smiled. "I've always wanted to go there," she said. "My father said there was something special in the air of Paris. But, we could hardly expect them to put Skynet someplace so accessible."
"Or so pleasant," Dieter agreed.
"They could have at least put it someplace temperate," John complained.
"That's right," his mother said. "You've never lived anywhere cold, have you, hon? We'll have to put some antifreeze in your blood."
John gave her a look. "Thanks, Mom. I knew I could rely on you."
"What are mothers for?" she asked brightly.
"To justify Mother's Day?" John asked. He tapped a final key and the printer began to hum.
Sarah punched his arm lightly and turned to von Rossbach. "Did you find out anything?"
"There is a top-secret American scientific installation in west Antarctica," he said. "About three days in from the coast. It's a mostly underground facility with some sham huts on top."
***
John took some papers from the printer and handed them to Dieter. Who took them and looked them over.
"A lot of stuff," he said.
"I pared it down to the essentials," John said. "We're not there for the scenery, after all. It's the food that concerns me. We'll need a ton of it. I get the impression you're supposed to eat a pound of butter a day."
