"Pool," the man said, nodding in agreement.
"Just Pool?" Warren asked with more than a touch of sarcasm.
"Yes." Pool sat down without waiting for an invitation and opened his briefcase.
"You might like to take a look at this," he said, handing Colvin a CD.
The CEO took it, his eyes never leaving Pool's. The government liaison nodded once. "Sure," Colvin said, and replaced the one he'd been running. When he accessed the disc it showed a recording, obviously made with a high-end video camera, of what at first appeared to be one of their automated factories.
"Wait a minute," he said, leaning forward. He tapped a few keys and the picture
froze. "Paul, take a look at this." He swung the monitor around.
"Hey!" the president said after a moment's study. "What's going on here? That isn't ours!"
"You guys building your own now?" Colvin asked coldly.
Pool looked back at him for a moment, then switched his glance to the president.
"No," he said. "But unfortunately the situation is out of control. Factories like these are sprouting up all over, especially in the third world. Many of them,"
Pool continued with careful emphasis, "are making munitions."
"NATO. They're like… spy central. What are you doing about it?"
"Unfortunately there's very little we can do at this point." Pool closed his briefcase. "We know you're not involved," he continued, "because we've investigated. Thus far we haven't been able to pin it down, but you're right, unfortunately—it's more likely to be one of our 'friends' at NATO than anyone else."
"We're losing money here…" Warren began.
"You could always try suing," Pool suggested. "France is always a nice place to visit, though it would be a pity to spend your time there in a courtroom or locked up in a lawyer's office." He shrugged. "And I understand they're open to fiscal persuasion in the Balkan countries. But the problem is a little too universal for you to expect much success, I'm afraid."
Colvin sat back in his chair, genuinely shocked. They'd lost their exclusive
contract. All their research and development, all their expansion plans, were just so much wasted time and money. They'd borne the start-up costs and someone else was walking off with the profit.
"How?" Warren demanded. "How did this happen? And how long has it been going on?"
"Almost from the beginning," Pool said. "That's why we assumed you two had something to do with it. Or at least someone in your organization. But we've found no corroborating evidence of that." He sounded regretful.
Colvin grunted like a man kicked in the stomach. The only thing they had going for them now was their contract with the government. He covered his eyes with one hand. "Where the hell is Sarah Connor?" he suddenly blurted. "This is certainly a Connor-sized disaster."
If he hadn't been looking directly at Pool he would have missed the moment when the agent froze.
"What?" the CEO snapped.
"Mr. Colvin?" Pool asked politely.
Colvin glanced at Warren, then back at Pool. He sat up straight, almost certain he could feel himself going pale. "Well?" he asked, his voice hoarse. "Where is she?"
Pool sat still for a moment, then he said, "We don't know, actually."
The announcement threw both executives into motion. Warren flung himself up and walked to the window, his back to the room. Colvin rose and, placing his hands on his desk, leaned forward slowly. "You what?" he asked quietly, one eyebrow raised.
Warren turned back to them. "Could she… ?" He waved a hand helplessly.
"Have leaked the information?" Pool asked. "No. Definitely not. We knew where she was when the problem began."
Colvin dropped back into his chair. "Could she have… associates?" he asked.
Pool shook his head. "Unlikely. Connor has always been a lone wolf. The degree and speed of this proliferation argue for some sort of organization. Frankly, gentlemen, we're completely out of ideas, which is why we decided to consult you."
"Oh, that's flattering." Colvin sneered. "The question is who benefits, and how?"
"Yeah," Warren said. He shrugged, then sat down himself. "If someone was blowing the factories up, I'd blame the Luddites. But I don't see how making this technology universally available fits in with their obsession."
"Well"—Pool rose—"keep thinking about it, gentlemen. If you have any ideas please feel free to contact me." He placed a plain business card on the CEO's desk. Like Tricker's, it bore only an E-mail address. Pool glanced from one man to the other, nodded once, and left without another word.
The two men were silent for forty-five seconds; then Warren spoke.
"We are fucked," he said quietly.
UTAH
Alissa frowned. Some part of her had expected Tricker; had hoped for Tricker might be more accurate. Apparently this Pool was Tricker's replacement. He certainly seemed to be the same sort of human. It also seemed that the government's interest in Cyberdyne was limited to projects other than Skynet.
Both she and Clea had estimated a high probability that Intellimetal would prove a strong lure to Cyberdyne, which more or less ensured government interest. Her sister's casual mention of a Skynet-like entity was intended to prove irresistible to whoever had taken over the project, a doubly baited hook.
What they hadn't expected was that Clea would disappear so suddenly and so thoroughly. When she had vanished after her interview with Colvin and Warren, the little I-950 had naturally assumed that the government had intervened. But she had no idea of exactly where or from whom that intervention had come. The mysterious Tricker, she'd supposed. But he proved impossible to locate.
Now, with this Pool, Alissa hoped she finally had a lead.
She'd had some of her bugs hack into Cyberdyne's security system and through the company's cameras she watched the agent's progress through the building and out into the parking lot.
As he drove off she took note of the car's license-plate number and started a search. The address that came up wasn't very informative, a U.S. government motor pool, but it was a place to start.
She'd assign one of the T-101s. They were good at worming their way through bureaucratic baffle gab.
Swinging her legs and putting a finger to her chin, Alissa considered her sister's possible fate. It seemed unlikely she'd been murdered. Unless they'd completely destroyed her head, the computer part of her would have made contact. Unless they'd buried her in the equivalent of a Faraday cage, which was astronomically unlikely, it should have been possible to locate her.
No, a living Clea was somewhere shielded, or somewhere she feared that any attempt to communicate would reveal her true nature. This silence was more likely an act of will than a sign of misfortune.
In other words, things were probably going as planned. Except for the uncertainty and the Connors still being alive and on the loose. Alissa's lips thinned in displeasure. She needed to enter her next phase so that she'd be in a position to take care of them.
There would be no better time than the present.
RED SEAL BASE, ANTARCTICA
Clea was enjoying her new lab; it had all the equipment she could ever use, and any materials she wanted, however exotic, toxic, or illegal, were provided within forty-eight hours. She'd tested this and didn't even try to hide her glee when she was presented with some obscure and costly element.
Tricker had cautioned her that she couldn't continue to make such requests without producing tangible results. Clea had countered by giving him an
extremely long and involved lecture on the advantages of pure science. He'd come as close to running away as she'd ever seen him.
The lab itself was small, but its efficient design made up for the lack of space. Its white walls and gleaming metal surfaces somehow gave it the illusion of size, though its dimensions were more those of a large walk-in closet. The overhead lights were the kind that mimicked natural light, making it more comfortable still. It suited her.