John almost laughed. He'd forgotten about that. But he sensed that it was important to her, even if it was absurd to him. "I will always respect your decision on that. I know it's not something you did lightly. So if you thought I'd be mad or something, I'm not." He waited for her response.
"You just don't care," she said at last, sounding disappointed.
"That's not true," he assured her. "You care, and I care about what you… care about," he finished lamely. He hoped that would settle her down. They needed to get onto a more important subject.
She blew out a breath that whistled across the phone lines. "Okay," she said, her voice slightly flat. "What's up with this woman you want to know about?"
"Well," he said, "she should be dead."
" Uh-huh." She went silent, apparently waiting for more.
"We don't think she's entirely human," John ventured.
"Aaaaand what makes you think that?" Wendy asked.
"She almost killed my mother, but we killed her instead, and now she's attending parties. You can see why we're concerned."
"Yeah, that attending-parties thing, that's a real bitch." Her voice still had that flat quality, almost uninterested, and John didn't quite know what to make of it.
"You don't sound like you believe me," he ventured.
"Well. John. I've seen this woman's face and you're telling me you killed her.
Which is freaky enough, by the way. Until you top it by telling me she's this inventor from the unveiling but she was dead before the unveiling. What am I supposed to think?"
"You're supposed to think this is more proof that Skynet is real," he snapped.
Now you doubt me? he thought. Now, after all these months? "Are you guys still working on the CPU?" he asked, playing his ace.
She took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. "Yeah," she admitted. "We're making some progress, too. But this, John! This is like something out of a movie! And real life doesn't have a plot."
Oh yeah? Mine does. John held on to his temper; he needed her help and blowing his stack wasn't going to do him any good.
"Look," he said firmly, "I'd like your help on this. Can I count on you?"
Wendy was quiet for a while. "You really think this woman is from Skynet?" she
asked, her voice sounding small.
"I'm convinced of it." John waited, holding his breath.
"I may know something," she said at last. "Give me a few minutes to get my notes together, then get on-line. I'll e-mail you what I have."
"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.