CH 14
John's Pasadena house was full. Besides John and Sarah, Mr. Ellison, Catherine Weaver, Savannah Weaver, Special Agent Meyer, his wife Carla, their daughter Cindy, and Special Agent Hanson were all there. Cameron had taken an extended patrol around the house with George to be sure no one was followed, as well as let things get settled before she brought George back into the house.
"Where's Cameron?" Cindy asked.
"Taking George for a walk," John told her. Shifting his attention to her father, he asked, "Agent Meyer, does your family have a place to stay tonight?"
"Not any more," Meyer said with a grumble.
Catherine Weaver spoke up. "Agent Meyer, I have a vacation home south of LA. I was going there with Savannah and Mr. Ellison. There is plenty of room if your family wishes to join us. Agent Hanson, your house was not targeted by that AI this time, but you may also concider moving your family to a different location as fast as possible."
"Why was my house hit and not his?" Peter Meyer asked.
"John Henry suspects there were not enough H/K's left to do the job," Catherine told him.
"Was this a last-gasp effort by that AI?" John asked.
"One can only hope, John," Catherine told him. "I do think those were the last expendable craft it had. It has lost the ability to become Skynet, and it's major supporter, Kaliba, has been seriously damaged with the plants out of service and storage facilities destroyed. If I were it, I'd be moving away from the area to keep from being destroyed myself."
"You think it's going east?" Sarah asked.
"I don't know. I am just saying what I would do, if I were it." Catherine told her.
"Well if it tries to get on the net, we'll know," John said in a huff. "Cam can watch shipping in case it tries to leave the country. Besides cleaning up the warehouses and watching coltan shipments, I'm not sure what else we can do."
Seeing Carla, was looking stressed, Sarah offered, "How about if we all get some rest tonight. A lot has happened and we all need some downtime to get ourselves together."
"Good idea," Hanson said. "I'm going home to collect my family and head for a hotel."
"We will be going also," Catherine said. "Agent Meyer, will you accept my invitation?"
Peter looked at his wife, then nodded. "Yes, thank you. Is there a clothing store nearby? We lost everything."
"Mommy?" Savannah asked, looking up at her mother. "Is John Henry all right? I miss him."
"Yes, dear, John Henry is fine. He has just been very busy," Catherine assured her.
As they grouped up to leave, Cindy went over to John. "John? Tell Cameron I'm sorry I missed her. We really miss you guys at school too."
"I will," he replied.
"Are you going to stay here now?"she asked hopefully.
"Probably not. Too many people know about this place."
"Darn. Well, pet George for me, OK? I'm sure he's getting big."
The Meyers went out and got in their car.
Plopping down in the back seat, Cindy let out a huff. "I didn't get to meet George," she said sadly.
Peter cringed at Cindy's comment. "Ah, hon? I don't think George likes many people." he offered.
"Many dogs don't like strangers, Dad. I'm sure he'd get used to me,"Cindy told him.
Peter backed out of the driveway and said, "Hon, I met George. He's not a dog. George is a wolverine."
"A what?" Carla asked with a surprised look. "Aren't those things dangerous?"
Peter nodded. "How John and Cameron can raise him and not get ripped up, is beyond me."
Cindy frowned briefly, then asked, "Then why didn't they name him Logan?"
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Seeing Cameron come back in the back door with George, John offered her a smile. "Ready to go home?" he asked.
"Technically, this is our house, John," Cameron reminded him.
"It's also known. Besides, our beds are in LA," Sarah reminded them.
"Important point," Cameron said with a smirk. To John, she said, "Let's go to where our bed is."
"Anything for you, hon," John replied with a grin, which made Sarah's eyes roll.
.
After the multiple attacks, John figured it would be either another attack, or the AI was going to flee like Catherine said. John and Cameron spent the next week engaged in blissfully boring household chores. Besides George wanting to eat the lawnmower, there was nothing new. No attacks, not coltan shipments, not even a probing visit from a triple eight.
The next week did provide some excitement. A stray German Shepard had wandered into the neighborhood. Sarah got a call from Kaecy she'd seen it in her yard. Not long after, the sound of a trash can tipping over came from in back. John, meaning to scare the dog away, flung the back door open and yelled, "Go away!"
George ran between his feet snarling.
John saw the Shepard look up, and George running straight at it. The dog stood his ground and snarled back at George.
Bad idea, Fido.
Unimpressed by the dog's showing his teeth, George leaped and grabbed the Shepard by the nose as they tried to bite each other. The dog yiped and tried to pull away. Still latched onto the dog's nose with his teeth, George swung his smaller body up under the Shepard, grabbed his face with his front claws and ripped into the dog' neck with the back ones as he bit down. John watched in fascinated horror as the dog yowled in pain and desperately tried to get George off him. George kept clawing and biting until the end of the dog's nose came off. George dropped down, the dog took off. George snapped at the dog's neck and missed.
The dog ran kaiyeing and bleeding, George chased him growling a nasty sounding growl. George couldn't quite catch the fleeing dog until it turned to flee back through Kaecy's yard. George got a swipe at one of his back legs. The dog stumbled but seemed to put on extra speed as it ran for it's life. George with his stubby little legs couldn't keep up.
Part way into Kaecy's yard, George gave up the chase and turned around to come back home. John swore there was a swagger in his amble. That's right George, you're the bad ass. Of course, John had to go pick the garbage can up.
.
With no further attacks, Catherine Weaver went on the offensive, business wise. J&D Holding Co. that owned three in-town warehouses Kaliba used, she made a hostile takeover on. Having controlling stock in the company, she sought out the list of Kaliba carriers and tracked them down. Catherine warned them to stop doing business with Kaliba, or find another warehouse to store their goods. Offering them cheap storage fees, the trucking companies dropped Kaliba. In a short time Kaliba activities ceased. The RKB and Newtech plants went up for sale.
It had been two months of nothing from Kaliba. The only thing Catherine Weaver had trouble with was when she took her Mercedes down for regular maintenance. A careless mechanic had ripped her seat from having a screwdriver in his back pocket. The garage was very apologetic and promised to have the seat replaced as soon as possible. For problems, this was a very minor thing. Once the car was finished, she picked it up on her way to work. It looked fine.
That day, Catherine met with her board. The company was doing well, and although the 'diversification' she made into storage facilities was at first questionable by other board members, it turned out it was a good investment. although straight sales were stable this quarter, having warehouses of their own were cutting costs, making a little better bottom line. Having gained the Army contract for the .50 rail guns, and for the improved X-scout with a lightweight coltan armored chassis, future profits were looking up for the mechanical division. The electronics division were also enjoying a 40% profit margin.
Everyone was happy.
Leaving work for the day, Catherine got into her car to go get Savannah from school. She turned the key and her world exploded.
The Mercedes erupted into a white hot ball of fire. A man twenty feet away recoiled and fell burning and screaming. Inside the car, trails of silver tried to escape and melted down before being consumed. The fire was so hot, the remains of the car melted down through the pavement. Fire alarms went off in the building as people scrambled for safety and emergency personnel ran for the scene, doing their best to minimize the damage.
Special Agent Peter Meyer wasn't allowed into the parking garage until temperatures inside dropped below 90 degrees. Kept outside the line of fire trucks and ambulances, he saw Mr. Ellison approaching.
"Mr. Ellison, you have the security tapes?" Meyer asked.
Ellison held up tape cases and a flash drive. "It's all here, from the time Mrs. Weaver parked this morning right up until ..." he paused and forced out, "Until five minutes ago." Looking at the hole in the ground where her parking spot had been, he shook his head. "It's hard to believe she's dead. I can't help but to think she got out of that somehow. Though the tapes don't show that."
"Yeah," Meyer said, knowing who and what Weaver was. "Did anyone even walk close to that car today?"
Mr. Ellison shook his head. "No. I watched and even checked the time stamps. The footage is original. No cuts, no blank overs."
Meyer nodded and said, "Then someone rigged her car before today. Maybe at her house. In the past week, has she gone anywhere and left her car? Even for an hour or two?"
Mr. Ellison paused, then said, "If she did, there may be something up in her office. Mrs. Weaver is a stickler for details and keeping records."
"I'm going to survey the scene, then I'd like to search her office for clues."
"I'll let the staff know," Mr. Ellison said. Looking at the still smoldering pit where Mrs. Weaver's parking spot used to be, he asked, "Any chance of finding out what did that?"
"There are only a few chemicals I know of that can burn that hot," Meyer said. "No matter what was used, I want to find out how it got in her car," Meyer said firmly.
After the fire department declared the are safe to be in the area, the police blocked off the entire parking garage as a crime scene. As Meyer thought, there was nothing left in the hole but slag. Even dirt had been burned away. Melted rock lined the hole. That had been one hell of a pyrotechnic planted in her car. One that burned hot enough to ensure even a T-1001 was burned away to nothing. For law enforcement, this was another murder.
Meyer knew that what happened here had a much more significant impact. A vital ally of John Connor had been destroyed.
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Savannah Weaver was confused. Instead of her mother coming to get her after school, two policewomen came. Being obedient, she went with them and was taken to a police station where she sat in a waiting room with one of the officers. Finally, she had to ask, "Why am I here?"
The woman with her said in an apologetic tone, "Your mother had an accident. I don't know much right now, but neither her nor Mr. Ellison can come get you. Mr. Ellison did promise someone would be coming soon to pick you up."
"Is Mommy in the hospital?" Savannah asked.
"I don't know, dear," the woman said gently.
Another female officer came in and said, "In here."
Sarah came in. Recognizing her, Savannah got up and went over to her as Sarah squatted down. Savannah ran into her arms and asked, "Where's Mommy?"
Sarah took a deep breath. "I will explain when we get home, all right?" she asked.
"Will Mommy be there?" Savannah asked.
Sarah got up and held Savannah's hand, "We have to go, dear."
Savannah bit her lip and went with Sarah.
Sarah Connor had never liked Catherine Weaver much. Upon the news that Weaver had been killed in what Mr. Ellison thought was a large thermite explosion, she quickly took on the task of taking care for Savannah. That cute girl had no idea her 'mother' was a liquid metal terminator, and if it was up to Sarah, she would never know.
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John was deeply upset by the news of Weaver's demise. Not only over loosing an important ally, but he knew how anal Weaver was about security, as well as being tough enough to withstand anything, except a thermite bomb. Whoever killed Weaver knew what she was, how to hurt her and how to get to her.
The car bomb had Skynet written all over it. Two big questions filled John's mind. Who and how. He was sure the 'who' was a triple eight. How was the real puzzle. That had to be a large amount of thermite to melt Weaver and her entire car and burn a seven foot deep hole in the ground. One hell of a lot more than a sprinkling over her.
Wouldn't Weaver have seen or sensed that much termite in her car? Even if it was covered up or in a package, why wasn't Weaver suspicious? If Weaver had been fooled, then John knew himself an Cameron were next. Cameron knew that too, for she was out on another 'extended' patrol and carried a spare clip for her 9MM on her. Maybe because Cameron was acting tense, but George also seemed on edge, constantly sniffing and looking around.
John's phone rang. He picked it up. Hearing their code, he replied with the code.
"Mom?" he asked.
"Yes, John. I have Savannah. I'm taking her home to get clothes for her then we're going to the Pasadena house."
"You're not coming home?" John asked, confused.
"No, I don't dare let Savannah near George. Think about that John! It's also not safe at her house. I have plenty of money and my bed is still up there. We'll be fine," Sarah told him.
"All right. Stay safe, Mom," John told her.
"You too, John. Keep Tin Miss close by. I'll see you soon."
John no more than hung up and looked outside for Cameron when his phone rang again. There was no code this time. "Hello?" he asked.
"This is Byron Winchester from Winchester and Associates. I am looking for Cameron Collins. Is she available?"
"How did you get this number?" John asked automatically.
"Mr. James Ellison gave it to me when he informed me that Mrs. Catherine Weaver has passed away. I have important business with Miss Collins. Can you please bring her to the phone?" the man asked with an aloof tone.
"What is your number. I'll have Cameron call you," John stated.
"Very well then. Do you have a pen?"
The man gave his number and told John again it was urgent he speak with Cameron. Right after he hung up, John checked the phone number. It was indeed the number to a Winchester and Associates law firm. He then called Mr. Ellison to confirm he had talked to these people. John then called back to first be put on hold, then talk to Byron.
"Sorry, Byron, I had to verify you were who you said you were," John told him.
"Yes, of course. Now may I speak to Cameron Collins, please?" Byron asked in an irritated tone.
"The minute she gets back," John promised, and hung up.
.
Mrs. Weaver had a neat, clean desk. She was one for tidiness, Agent Meyer noted. He looked at files in her file cabinet, and the note pad on the corner of her desk. He didn't see anything useful. Meeting schedules, all being in this building or the one across the street. Looking for when her car may have been in an unsecured parking spot, he didn't find anything. Going back through her schedule notes he did find her car had been worked on. He used her copier to copy the note that read : Jerry's 7AM pickup. That seemed odd to him. Working people usually picked up their cars in the afternoons or after work. Why a morning pickup?
His curiosity raised, he decided to go to Jerry's garage. The place was mid-street, a walled in yard with a driveway opening out to the road. Meyer parked on the street and walked in. The sound of air tools hammering away filled the air. A chain link gate was pulled back, the wire laced with strips so when the gate was shut, no one could see in. There was also a camera above the garage door looking down at the gate two more on posts watched the yard.
Walking into the counter area, Meyer saw a man behind the counter at a cluttered desk, writing on a receipt. "Jerry?" he asked.
"Gimme one," the man said, briefly holding a finger up. He finished what he was writing the got up and came over to the counter. "What can I do for ya?" he asked.
Meyer showed his badge and said, "I understand you worked on a dark blue Mercedes for a Mrs. Weaver recently?"
The man's face fell. "Yah, and the new guy ripped a hole in her expensive leather seat. We replaced the seat with a brand new one, no charge. I fired the new guy, dumb as he was big. Can't have idiots in here. Did Mrs. Weaver complain or somethin?"
"No, Sir. That seat was brand new?" Meyer asked.
Jerry nodded. "Saw the carton and plastic it came in myself. The new guy insisted on paying for it. Went down to the dealer and got it himself."
"Which dealer is that?"
Jerry snorted, "The only Mercedes dealer in LA, down on Park. Usually stuff like that takes a few days, He got it in an afternoon. Had the seat here by five thirty. He took the night to put it in, car was ready to go first thing in the morning."
"What day was this?" Meyer asked.
"Four days ago. I thought I had things smoothed over with Mrs. Weaver til you showed up."
"Who was it that worked on her car?" Meyer asked.
"Big dumb guy. Told ya, I fired him."
"Name, Sir, and whereabouts if you know." Meyer said. "You see, Sir, the day Mrs. Weaver drove her car out of your garage, she parked it in secure lot. When she went to leave, the car blew up with her in it. I want to talk to the man who worked on that car," Meyer said in an even tone.
"Holy shit," Jerry said then went over to his desk. He opened a drawer and dug out a paper. "Gotta keep these for taxes," he explained and showed Meyer an employee record. "William Xanlong. Here's his address."
"Thank you," Meyer said and wrote the information down. "If you remember anything odd about Mr. Xanlong, be sure to tell me."
Jerry shrugged. "He was only here a few weeks, didn't talk much either. After he screwed up Mrs. Weaver's seat, I gave him the boot. I can't afford mistakes like that. Even if he did pay for the new seat."
"Understood. Do you have the packing that seat came in?"
"Probably got thrown out. Trash went out yesterday, it's most likely gone, but you can look if ya want."
"Thank you," Meyer said and left the office.
Like Jerry said, the dumpster was all but empty and in the garage there was plenty of metal parts and a few tires lying around, but no cardboard or packing plastic lying about.
Meyer's next stop was the Mercedes dealer. He verified the seat was bought there, and it was William Xanlong who had bought it. The only discrepancy was that Xanlong had purchased the seat five weeks ago. That meant Xanlong had that seat for a month before he ripped Catherine's seat. A week before he was even employed at Jerry's Garage. He could have done anything with that seat, and when he was ready, he got a job at the place Weaver took her car, ripped her seat then put in a brand new one he had filled with explosives. That was enough to go get a warrant and search his place.
Meyer brought SWAT with him as well as the warrant, four men having the new .50 cal rail rifles Weaver had donated to the department. Those things put big holes through armor plate. Even if this Xanlong was a coltan armored terminator, he was going down.
No one was home at Xanlong's place. The apartment manager unlocked the door and got out of the way. Bursting in, Meyer saw nothing but flat, empty floor. The rooms were bare and clean. Xanlong had obviously fled.
"Damn," Meyer grumbled. He had Hanson get a forensics team into the apartment just in case there was something to find. He headed back to Jerry's Garage to get a better description and if possible, a picture of the man. His phone rang.
"Special Agent Meyer."
"It's Hanson. Guess what forensics found in Mr. Xanlong's apartment. He didn't do a good enough cleanup job, they already found traces of thermite and fibers that they suspect came from the filling used in car seats."
"Good job! I found out Xanlong bought that seat before he even worked at Jerry's garage. This is a solid case of premeditated murder. All we have to do is find him. I'm going back to Jerry's to get a good description. Anyone at the apartment building able to identify him?"
"The manager. No detail though. Just big brown haired Caucasian guy and quiet. You think he blew town?"
Meyer frowned and said, "I don't know if he was just after Weaver, or if she was in his way. Put eyeballs on anyone important to Weaver. Zeita board members, top execs, lawyers, and don't forget Mr. Ellison."
"Right. I'm heading back to that apartment building now. See you back at the office."
.
John pulled into the parking lot of Winchester and Associates. The place oozed money from the classic stone block facing with Roman columns holding up the entryway roof to the glass and chrome doors leading into the expensive looking woodwork of the outer office. He held the doors for Cameron as they went in.
Cameron wore a blue print summer dress and low black shoes, John was doing his best to be the 'bodyguard' with a turtleneck sweater under the charcoal gray suit. John stood by as Cameron introduced herself, then sat down to wait.
A few minutes later, the secretary got up and said, "Follow me, Miss Collins."
John helped Cameron up by taking her dainty hand in his. He followed Cameron as they went down a short hallway and into an office with a huge polished wood desk a middle aged man sat behind. John went up and pulled out the chair on the other side for Cameron. She sat gracefully and eyed the man.
"Byron Winchester, you wanted to see me?" Cameron asked.
"Yes. Normally these matters wait until after the funeral, but the wealth and responsibilities of Mrs. Catherine Weaver require immediate action," he explained and pulled a thick folder out of a desk drawer. Looking up at John, Byron asked, "And who is he?"
"He is not your concern," Cameron said flatly. "I assume what you have for me concerns Catherine's will?"
"Indeed," he said and pulled out the first paper. "This is a statement of official notification from Los Angeles County coroner's office. The declaration of death by fire of Catherine Weaver. By viewing the parking garage security video, it is determined that Catherine Weaver entered her car. The car then burned brightly and for the space of fourteen minutes, burning the ground underneath it as well. This office verifies that Catherine Weaver was completely consumed by the fire, leaving no physical remains behind." he read, then put that paper to the side.
Pulling the next paper out, he read the preamble for Weaver's will then read, "All of the stock and interests in The Zeita Corporation under my control remain the property of Savannah Weaver. I hereby declare that upon my demise, Cameron Collins is the sole steward for and primary guardian of Savannah Weaver. For her compensation of ensuring Savannah and her interests are taken care of, Cameron Collins shall receive 10% of the base Zeita stock and 5% of the yearly company profit every year until Savannah Weaver is legally of age and has completed a minimum of a bachelor's degree in Business."
John's mouth dropped open.
"Are there any questions, Miss. Collins?"
On an impulse, Cameron said, "It's Mrs. Who do I file this paperwork with?"
"We are taking care of that as per previous agreement with Mrs. Weaver," Byron said. "What you must do is attend the corporate board meeting coming up in two days that we set up so you can meet the board members followed by a meeting with the company executives that afternoon. If you like, Mrs. Collins, we at Winchester and Associates can act for you in trust. Then you won't have to deal with such things that may be too much for you."
"I will be fine," Cameron assured him.
An irritated shout came from the secretary of, "You can't go in there!"
The door opened, a large man appeared to stand in the doorway. "I am Cameron Collins," he stated.
It was a triple eight. Cameron didn't waste time. She shot up and punched him in the face hard to disorient him. When his head turned, she got behind him, picked him up and slammed him to the floor.
"John, chip!" Cameron called as she dove on him and pulled the machine's arms behind his back and locked her arms around his. Catching up to the situation, the triple eight struggled. His arm servos whined as he tried in vain to break free. John quickly got his knife out, cut his scalp, popped the chip cover and pulled the chip. It flamed up, burning John's fingers.
"Damn it!" John cursed as he shook his hand.
"Open the van doors, I'll bring it out," Cameron told him. She got up off the now limp machine and picked it up over her shoulder. Looking at the gaping Byron Winchester, she said, "I will attend the meetings and take care of Savannah and her business. May I continue to employ you as my lawyer in my duties as Savannah's steward and primary guardian?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Byron said vacantly as he watched this small woman thrash a large ... man? What in the hell was that in his head?
"Then we are done for now," Cameron stated and carried the machine out.
Special Agent Meyer left his office to go out in the parking lot to identify the 'body' John and Cameron brought in the back of their van. He took pictures, then went to Jerry's Garage. Jerry confirmed that was the 'big dummy' that had ripped, then replaced Mrs. Weaver's seat. The case was in the books, so Meyer used the photo and some deft forensics forgery and false witness statements by Cameron, John and a 'George' that the 'man' was killed in a drug dispute. He compiled a week's worth of work and paperwork to close the case of Weaver's murder. Unfortunately, the body of the 'victim' ended up missing.
Besides Meyer solving the 'official' case, John and Cameron has solved the real case. This T-888 (what Cameron called it) was out to take over Zeita corp. Meyer was very glad Cameron had found it first. He was sure that had saved a few lives.
