No, he'd found some of the women he'd hunted over the years to be attractive,
but never alluring enough to let them go. It could be that his every instinct said that Sarah Connor was a good person, one who could be trusted, and, despite what he'd read, completely sane.
Perhaps the reason was simple gratitude for breaking through the boredom that was crushing him into a reasonable facsimile of the cows he raised. Even before he suspected that she was Sarah Connor, he had found her intriguing. From the first he had wanted to find out everything he could about her.
Then it's curiosity, he suggested to himself. That must be it. So did that mean that when his curiosity was satisfied he'd turn Sarah and her son over to the authorities? Something in him rebelled at the thought.
This is senseless, Dieter thought, and opened the car door. You couldn't let people get away with the kind of destruction Connor had helped to cause. And yet he knew that he would. Knew they'd at least get a head start from him. He'd never even contemplated such a thing before.
"C'mon, boy," he said softly.
An older puppy of mixed breed perked up its ears and moved from the passenger seat to the one he'd just vacated, licking its nose as it came. He lifted the puppy up and cuddled it against him as he slammed the car door.
The porch light was on but no one had come out to greet him. Odd behavior in this country, where everyone was so hospitable. And Connor worked hard to fit in. For one brief moment he wondered if he was going to be shot the moment he crossed her threshold.
The puppy wriggled slightly, then looked up at him, as though it had just wanted to remind him that it didn't like having its feet off the ground. Dieter spoke gently to it and walked slowly toward the portal.
"Hello the house," he said at last, uneasy at the lasting silence.
"Hello," Sarah said from inside the darkened doorway. She saw the puppy and her brows went up.
"May we come in?" Dieter asked.
Sarah frowned slightly, as an ordinary working mother might at being put upon like this. After a fractional hesitation she opened the door. "Of course," she said, with a wry smile.
She had stayed in the same clothes she'd worn to work, a full skirt in dark maroon and a simple white blouse. Dieter was no more formally dressed in khakis and a checked shirt. Just like neighbors having a friendly visit, Sarah thought. If only that were true.
John blinked at the sight of the dog in von Rossbach's arms and shot a questioning look at his mother over Dieter's head when he bent to put the puppy down. She shrugged in mute answer.
"He's about four months old," von Rossbach said. "And housebroken. At least, he hasn't had any accidents in my house. But that could be because he's afraid of Marieta." He looked up and grinned at John. "He's still young enough that you could give him a new name if you wanted."
John opened his mouth, then turned his head to the side.
"I can't have a dog," he said simply.
"You can't go your whole life denying yourself friendship or love, or a dog, based on one experience, John." Dieter stood up. "He will be good company for your mother while you are away at school. And when you come home, he'll be here."
Sarah and John locked gazes, then looked at him.
"We need to talk," Dieter said simply. He moved into the living room and sat on the couch. "Sit down, Sarah."
She walked over and took the basket of knitting that marked her place off of a side chair and put it on the floor. Then she sat, shifting slightly as the Uzi she'd concealed under the cushion dug into her backside. She looked up, startled.
"What did you call me?" she asked.
"Sarah." Dieter held her eyes with his. "Sarah Connor."
John shifted slightly, squeezing his hands shut. The puppy noticed him and trotted over to give him a sniff. John squatted down and began to pet him, keeping a wary eye on the man on the couch.
She opened her mouth to speak and von Rossbach raised one big hand. "Don't bother to deny it," he said tiredly. "I know. I knew before Griego shouted out your name."
Sarah turned her head slightly, caught John in her peripheral vision, then looked back at Dieter. "What game are you playing?" she asked quietly.
Sarah stayed perfectly still, hands in her lap, ankles crossed, but wanting to shout defiance, fiercely wanting to take him down to punish him for this betrayal.
Something in her recoiled at that, setting her off-balance.
She was glad she didn't have a gun in her hand at this moment, because she genuinely wasn't certain what decision she'd make. She brought her emotions back under control quickly. They needed to find out what this man was up to, getting emotional wouldn't help them do that.
He shook his head, his eyes steady.
"No game," he said.
"Really?" Sarah asked, turning her gaze full on him. She glanced out the window behind the couch, but saw only herself reflected in the glass. The sun was already down and dark had descended. "So you're alone?"
"Except for Harold there," Dieter said, gesturing toward the puppy, "it's just me."
John and his mother studied him in silence for a long time.
"That's not the usual way for the Sector to operate, now is it?" Sarah said, noting the slight flaring of his nostrils as he realized that she knew what he was. "What do they want, if not to arrest us and bring us in for prosecution."
"As far as I know, that's exactly what they want, Sarah." He looked her in the
eye. "But I no longer work for them."
John and his mother looked at him in open astonishment until the puppy got impatient with being ignored and butted him. John dropped onto his butt and began to massage the little dog's ruff.
Sarah blinked at Dieter and tried to read his eyes.
"Meaning?" she said at last.
"Meaning that I don't have to jump when they whistle. Meaning that I believe there's something behind all that you did that I very much want to understand.
Meaning that I don't believe that you are a madwoman or a terrorist. I've met enough people of that stripe over the years that I can usually recognize them by the third meeting." He shook his head slowly. "There's something different about you."
"So you're just curious?" Sarah tipped her head to one side and began to drum her fingers on the arm of her chair. "Would you like some… coffee?"
"Yes." He smiled. "I would, thank you."
When Sarah left the room John didn't even attempt to talk to von Rossbach, but played with the dog. Dieter sat quietly, watching them and listening to the sounds from the kitchen. His mind was in a resting state, receiving input but not thinking about it, simply waiting.
In about ten minutes Sarah returned bearing a tray with coffee and slices of pound cake. She put it on the low table before the couch and began to pour. John
drifted over and sat in the other armchair. The dog lay down at his feet, bright eyes moving from one human to the other. When Sarah had poured them each a cup they sat and sipped in silence, as though participating in some meditative ceremony.
After a few minutes Dieter put his cup and saucer on the table beside him and said, "Let me tell you how I found out about you. If you'll remember, our first meeting was somewhat dramatic."
Sarah's full lips lifted in a half smile and she nodded.
"I didn't believe a word you told me," he said.
She closed her eyes and shrugged.
"I didn't think you did," Sarah said. "But I didn't know then that it would be a problem."
"I sent my old partner a drawing that I did of you and asked him if there was anything on file about Suzanne Krieger." Dieter went on to tell them about the information Jeff had sent, explaining that Griego was his friend's idea as well. "It was when he sent me the case histories that I became confused," he explained.