“Don’t flatter them,” Lajard said scornfully. “You picked them out in two hours. You and Barnes. On their own, Baker’s Hollow would have gone another three months without getting a clue.”
“While Jik played Connor for everyone within reach of his voice?” Blair suggested.
Lajard snorted. “You really don’t understand, do you?” he said contemptuously. “Jik was a late model, a full test of the false-memory system, but programming him to be Connor was pure improvisation.”
“And pretty much useless,” Blair said, putting some contempt in her own voice. Lajard might be stuck here until sundown, but he really didn’t need to be telling her all this. Obviously, the man liked to brag and gloat, and the more detail Blair could goad out of him, the better. “He doesn’t look a thing like the real Connor.”
“So what?” Lajard countered. “I mean, really, how many people have ever seen the real Connor? All we need is the voice, and you have to admit we got that one down cold.”
“Maybe,” Blair said. “It’s still a pretty weak plan.”
“You still don’t get it,” Lajard insisted. “I already said Jik was a last-minute throw-together. The plan—the real plan—was to get hold of Connor himself for that job. The real John Connor.”
“What are you talking about?” Blair asked.
“Oh, come now,” Lajard said his voice loaded with scorn. “Did you really think Skynet had Marcus Wright lure him to Skynet Central just to kill him?”
Blair felt her breath catch in her throat. That part of the operation had been bothering her for a week now, ever since Barnes and Marcus came charging out to her helo with a bloodied and battered John Connor stumbling along between them. There had been hundreds of Terminators in that facility, T-1s, T-600s, and T-700s. And yet Skynet had held them all back while it sent a single Terminator against Connor?
Now, suddenly, horribly, it all made sense.
“Skynet was going to turn him into a Theta,” she breathed.
“Bingo,” Lajard said sarcastically. “That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?”
Blair shook her head. “That’s insane.”
“On the contrary, it’s brilliant,” Lajard said. “Think about it. You take Connor alive—maybe just barely, but alive—and remake him in Skynet’s image. Then we delete all memories of what happened to him, from the moment he walked into Central until the moment he walked out.”
“And you send him back to the Resistance.”
“Exactly,” Lajard said. “With probably a few little enhancements to take with him. Enhancements like wonderful oratory skills, limited tactical abilities, and jealousy of subordinates.”
“Especially the more competent subordinates,” Blair murmured.
“Of course,” Lajard said. “After all, they’re the ones we’d want him to destroy. All we do then is let him regain his title as savior of humanity, and watch as he builds, nurtures, and destroys the Resistance.”
An eerie feeling spread over Blair’s skin. It could have worked, too. Connor had been inside Skynet Central at the exact time that Skynet’s little kill-code deception was supposed to annihilate most of the Resistance cells around the world, including Connor’s own group. Those few who survived would have more important things on their minds than to wonder where Connor had been during the weeks or months of his Theta transformation.
Lajard was right—it had been a brilliant plan. And it had failed only because Marcus wasn’t as firmly under Skynet’s control as Skynet had thought, and Connor’s distrust of Skynet’s kill-code gambit had left his team in position to swoop in and finish the rescue that Marcus had started.
“I’m sure Skynet would have been very pleased,” Blair said. “Not so sure you’d have had such a happy ending. You really think Skynet would have left you and the others alive once the rest of humanity was gone?”
“The others, as in Susan and Nathan?” Lajard asked. “No, I imagine they would have eventually been dumped along with everyone else. Not much call for molecular biology and metallurgy once the Thetas and Terminators have served their purpose. But Skynet’s a computer, and I’m a computer programmer. There’ll always be a place in this new world for people like me.”
“That’s your shining hope?” Blair scoffed. “To live out your life as Skynet’s pet?”
“It’s not exactly the way I envisioned my future when I was a kid,” Lajard conceded. “But it beats the hell out of being a corpse.”
“You may still end up that way,” Blair said. “Because Skynet didn’t get to Connor. And you can forget your improvised substitute, because we are going to find and destroy Jik.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Lajard warned. “Nathan was never programmed with tactical skills, but Jik’s going to be a much harder nut to crack. And now that we have this nice Resistance helicopter to fly around in, he’ll do a terrific job of being John Connor.”
“Except that we know the truth,” Blair pointed out.
“Well, of course we’ll have to kill you and everyone else in Baker’s Hollow first,” Lajard said casually. “I assumed that went without saying.”
“Go ahead and try,” Blair said, fighting back a sudden shiver. “Even if you succeed, sooner or later the real Connor will figure out what’s going on and track you down.”
“Maybe,” Lajard said, his voice suddenly all sly and amused. “You assume he won’t already be on our side by then.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
“Oh, nothing,” Lajard said. “It’s just that when you said Skynet didn’t get to Connor... well, never assume, Williams. That’s all. Never, ever assume.”
“How many more are there?” Callahan asked as Kyle and Zac set down their latest satchel charges.
“Just the two,” Kyle said, eyeing the four bags Callahan had already placed against the tunnel walls and the two he and Zac had just delivered. “These ought to be enough, don’t you think?”
“Better safe than sorry,” Callahan said, grunting as he picked up one of the charges. “Go get them.”
Kyle frowned. There’d been something in Callahan’s voice just then.
“Go ahead, Zac,” he said. “I’ll stay here and give him a hand.”
“Both of you go,” Callahan ordered darkly. “I don’t want Zac having to lug two charges at the same time.”
“Go on, Zac,” Kyle repeated.
Zac didn’t move.
“What’s going on?” he asked suspiciously. “Callahan— oh. No, you can’t.”
“Then how?” Callahan snapped. “You saw the plunger. One of us has to stay here and trigger it. So quit arguing, and you and Reese get your butts back to the front of the tunnel.”
“We draw straws,” Zac insisted.
“We obey orders,” Callahan shot back.
“Wait a second,” Kyle said, staring down at the plunger. “It just has to be pushed in, right?”
“Right,” Callahan said, frowning. “Why?”
“I need a slab,” he said looking quickly around. “Concrete or metal, not too big.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zac stiffen.
“They’re coming,” he murmured.
Kyle looked down the tunnel. In the distance, he could see the faint glow of red Terminator eyes.
The T-700s were on the move... and if they hadn’t spotted the intruders yet, that discovery was only seconds away.
“I need a slab,” he repeated, giving the area a second quick sweep. But there was nothing around them of the right size.
“Wait a minute,” Callahan said. He took the detonator and turned it over to point at the ceiling, then picked up one of the charges. “Grab that other one,” he told Kyle, setting his charge on the ground beside the detonator and angling it to the side so that releasing it would send it falling onto the plunger. “Brace its end against this one.”