system. Then, as she spent more and more time around dangerous and often evil people, her dogs became her protectors until she learned how to take care of herself… and even after, when she needed someone absolutely trustworthy to watch her back.
Dogs— the only love money really can buy, she thought.
The only thing that had kept her marginally sane in Pescadero State Hospital was the knowledge that Max was with her son, watching over him. It grieved her to just leave him behind like that, even knowing they'd had no choice. But John had taken the loss of Max even more deeply.
Sarah had seen the very real pain in his eyes when he insisted they didn't need a dog and she'd acquiesced. But now, here was Dieter.
Could that stray have been a cyberdog? she wondered. Skynet could do that, but… Nah, she thought. Too elaborate, too indirect, too… inefficient. In her experience, Skynet just went for you; it didn't dance around and tease like this.
Probably nothing in its experience had given it any reason to try anything more subtle than a sledgehammer.
"Well," she said aloud, "I don't see that we're going to be able to refuse. I'll let von Rossbach know that if it doesn't work out, or if we can't take care of it for some reason, he'll have to take it back."
"If it doesn't work out?" John said. "What reason are we going to give for that?"
"You're going back to school," Sarah said calmly. "I have to work full-time. It's not good for a dog to be alone all the time. If necessary, I'll come up with a
reason, John; you don't have to worry about that."
"I can't help but worry," he said. He took a deep breath. '"I'm growing more certain by the minute that I'm not going back to school this year."
Sarah raised one eyebrow. "Is that a worry or a wish?"
"He laid a bug on us," John said simply. He raised his hands slightly and let them drop. "There's nothing normal or neighborly in that, and in the long run I think it means our life here has just changed drastically."
Sarah looked at him for a long minute, agreeing silently.. She pursed her lips.
"I'm not prepared to jump without more information!," she said. "We're not sure what type of threat he represents. Maybe running would be the worst thing we could do."
"Mom! That was a very expensive, very sophisticated mike he planted on us.
There is no innocuous reason for anyone to do that! He's either a cop or a pervert."
"Well, if he's a pervert we don't have to go anywhere. We can turn him over to the police."
John burst out laughing. "I never thought of that," he said. "That'll be a first, the police helping us." He hoisted himself onto the kitchen counter. "You don't really think he might be a pervert, do you?"
"I guess not," she said. "He asked me out Saturday night and I said yes."
John blinked. "You're going out with him? On a date?"
Sarah nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe he's a smuggler, too, and he's just checking out the competition," she suggested.
"Maybe he's a cop and you won't be coming home Saturday .night."
With a shrug she turned away.
John's smile froze as he thought about what else von Rossbach might be that could prevent his mother from coming home.
"Maybe I'd better get to work finding something out about: this guy so we can make some plans," she said.
Yeah, John thought, maybe you'd better. And maybe he'd better put together some emergency stuff in case they had to vacate suddenly.
Dieter put in the earpiece as soon as he was out of sight. As he rode off he heard a crash and the conversation that followed.
I can't believe they found it that soon, he thought in amazement. Was this an accident, as it sounded, or were they just being very clever? He was certain neither of them had seen him plant it. Though I must admit I'm out of practice.
Maybe he should come back sometime with a metal detector and see if he could recover the very expensive mike he'd planted. Maybe he could try to leave it in the house sometime when they weren't home.
Didn't Sefiora Salcido say something about a camping trip? Hell, I could put in
video while they're away. He forced his mind away from some tantalizing images of Suzanne. This was business. If he had time to actually hide his bugs it would be a lot more cost-effective than having his mikes discovered and disposed of instantly.
He looked over his shoulder at the small estancia and lifted one corner of his mouth in a crooked smile. Time to go home and check his e-mail. Maybe Jeff had finally gotten back to him.
Dinner had been excellent; the restaurant was pleasant and the food superb. The concert, mostly Vivaldi, had been wonderful, sprightly, humorous, and soothing.
"Would you like to have a drink before we start home?" Dieter asked.
Sarah checked her watch. "Um, it's later than I thought. Would you mind if we started home right away? I don't want John to worry." Not to mention the fact that so far this had been just a date. She was going crazy waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"It's not even ten-thirty," von Rossbach protested. "Did he give you a curfew or something?"
"I'd like to see him try," Sarah said, grinning. "No, I'm just kind of tired. And, to be frank, I'm not used to this."
"Concerts?" he teased.
Sarah rolled her eyes. "And dinner and being picked up…"
He smiled and they walked along in silence until they came to where he'd parked the car. She looked very nice in a blue dress with a full skirt accented with a colorful scarf and a wide belt. It was the sort of outfit one's wife might wear, very respectable.
Dieter supposed it was intended to send a subtle message. Keep your distance, or something of that nature. He opened the door for her, then went around to his side. She was one of those women who didn't like to be touched, he'd noticed. In his experience there was usually a story behind that sort of behavior.
"Maybe it would be easier if you didn't think of this as a date," he suggested.
"Just two friends going to a concert together."
Sarah looked at him, then smiled. "Maybe that's what we should do next time,"
she said. "But I'm afraid that if the man does the asking and the paying and the driving, it's unequivocally a date."
He laughed. "Well, what if the woman does the asking and paying and so on, what do you call it then?"
"I suppose you'd call it a date," she said, smiling.
"Then you owe me one. After that, we can just go as friends, if you like."
"That would be nice," Sarah said.
He was so damn nice. Her stomach was in knots. He was good company, he was pleasant, he was attentive, he was clean, not something she'd always been able to rely on. He's not what I would have expected a rich, spoiled playboy to be like.
And if he was a cop, then he was definitely off duty tonight. She wished he would do or say something crummy so she could stop feeling so ambivalent.
They talked about this and that as he drove, Dieter steering the conversation in a more personal direction by degrees.
"Why didn't you go back to the states after… your husband passed away?" he asked.
Sarah shrugged and looked out her window. "I didn't see any great need to go back. My family are all dead, I'd drifted away from my friends." She laughed.
"I'm a very bad correspondent. And besides, we'd put so much effort into the business. I was determined to make a go of it. And I didn't want to uproot John so soon after. That's hard on a kid."