Excerpt from the novel Infiltrator by S.M. Stirling

PARAGUAY: THE PRESENT
     Sarah watched in the mirror before her, aimed to catch the view through a filthy window, as the man she’d been almost certain was a Terminator reached down to pet the dog. She stood up slowly and let out her breath in a rush, then stood there panting, shaking from adrenaline reaction.
     Licking her lips, she tried to think what to do. If a dog can tolerate him, he can’t be a Terminator. Humans can be fooled, but not dogs. As von Rossbach turned to walk away, she made up her mind.
     Unlocking the window, she lifted it and slipped through, easing it down behind her. “Wait!” she called weakly.
     If he wasn’t a Terminator she had to find out what, or rather who, he was, and why he had come looking for her. He couldn’t have seen her spying on him this morning, could he? Her skills were rusty, but surely not that rusty.
     She went to the nearest building and peeked around the corner. The man was leaning over, trying to persuade the dog to go home, though it was obvious just looking at the mutt that it didn’t have one.
     “You’ve got a friend for life there,” Sarah said, trying to keep her voice steady. The man looked at her. Her voice had quavered a bit and her hands were still shaking; she might as well try to use that, along with her diminutive size, to seem harmless. It might wipe that closed look off his face.
     “I’m sorry,” Sarah said. “I’m so sorry.” She brushed her hair back and gave a nervous little laugh. “I thought you were someone else.” She looked at him, wide-eyed, then burst out, “But you’re not. Obviously.”
     “Who did you think I was?” he asked. His voice was quite, but his eyes were hard, evaluating her.
     She lifted her hands and then dropped them; shaking her head, Sarah walked a few steps toward him.
     “Please,” she said, her eyes on the ground as she walked, “I’d rather not say. I’m so embarrassed as it is. Anyway, you don’t want to know about it. It’s just…” She waved her hands helplessly. “Please, could we start over?” Sarah looked up at him and smiled tremulously, trying to look innocent.
     “Who are you?” he asked, still suspicious.
     “I’m Suzanne Krieger,” she said, holding out her hand. “That’s my trucking company.”
     “Oh, really.” He sounded dubious.
     “A lot of people are surprised to hear that,” Sarah assured him, smiling weakly. There was an awkward moment of silence. “I just want you to know that was a very uncommon reaction,” she said, twisting her fingers together nervously. “I really don’t make a habit of running away from my customers. Honest.” Don’t overdo it, Connor, she warned herself.
     “You’re an American,” Dieter observed.
     “Yes. But my husband was Paraguayan.”
     “Was?” Dieter walked by her side as they wended their way back to the trucking company.
     He found her face attractive in an angular way; her blue eyes were very expressive and her mouth was… tempting. A good figure, too, he thought.
     But he was still not lulled by either her fluttering manner or her refusal to explain. He noticed that she kept as far from him as she could in the narrow alley.
     “Yes, he died the year after he bought the company.” She lapsed into silence for a few moments. “Anyway, that’s enough about me,” she said as they came to the open door of the garage. “What is it you came her for?” Boy, do I want to know that.
     Dieter could actually feel the word “sperm” pressing against his teeth, but he restrained himself. “I have a shipment from the King Ranch,” he said instead.
     “Oh, yes,” Sarah said with a smile. “It’s in the fridge, I’ll go get it for you. You know the way out front,” she said with a little laugh and a gesture toward the open door to the offices.
     Sarah looked at him sweetly until at last he nodded and headed out to the front office. When he was gone she leaned against the wall and allowed her shoulders to sag.
     How can this be? she asked herself. Her stomach clenched. He’s the spitting image of no less than two Terminators! Except for the beard. She wondered briefly if Terminators could even grow beards. He even sounds like them! Well, maybe the accent wasn’t as pronounced. But in every other way Dieter von Rossbach was a physical duplicate of the T-101’s she’d known. But how? There has to be a connection, but what?
     Sarah brushed her hair back off her forehead and blew out her breath. It’s time to discuss it with John, she thought. He’ll probably have some ideas. Meanwhile… Sarah went to the fridge and took the special box out. King Ranch—probably sperm, then.
     The labels and stamps and customs papers all seemed authentic, so if this was some kind of ruse, it was a very elaborate one. Also irrelevant. No one smuggled drugs from the United States to South America as far as she knew. So, obviously, that wasn’t it. And going by the paper trail this box had traveled by legitimate courier all the way. So Mr. von Rossbach, in this instance at least, probably was just a rancher interested in improving his cattle.
     She wondered why they’d never dealt with this guy before. Most likely he’d used somebody in Asunción. It didn’t really matter. Getting rid of him and returning home to John to discuss this weird situation did.
     Though I have to wonder if his choosing Krieger Trucking was happenstance or if there’s some motivation behind it. The coincidences were mounting up. She could feel the paranoia taking over.
     “Here you go,” she said as she walked into the front office. Sarah picked up a clipboard from Meylinda’s desk. She noticed that her hands were still shaking. Okay, so we use that, she reminded herself. I’m just a shy, decent widow doing her best.
     Von Rossbach stood foursquare behind the counter, his eyes never leaving her, taking in every movement, every nuance of expression.
     “You’re making me nervous,” Sarah accused as she laid down the box. She presented the clipboard to him with a pen. “Would you sign here, please?”
     He took them, but continued to study her. Sarah ducked her head and looked away. “Please,” she said.
     “I would really like to know who you thought I was,” Dieter said steadily. “Please explain.”
     Sarah took a deep breath, not looking at him and let it out, then nodded. “I can easily see why you might be offended,” she said, swallowing. “Okay.” Sarah paused for effect, biting her lips. “When Paul died someone wanted to buy the company. But I wanted to keep it for our son, and because I’d put a lot of effort into it myself. This guy who wanted to buy it took my refusal personally and was very, very angry. He made threats. I told him to leave us alone.
     She stopped and glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. That unwavering stare of his really was making her tense. Not that I need any help with that, she thought ruefully.
     “You thought I was this man?” he asked.
     “Uh, no, not exactly. Anyway, for a while nothing happened. Then little accidents began to occur, things went missing, and some of our shipments were hijacked. He came back and made another offer. This one was ridiculously low, insulting actually, and I told him to go away.”
     She dipped her head, and shrugged. “That’s when things began to get scary. There was this man, a big man; I began to see him everywhere, watching me, getting closer all the time. I’d be shopping for groceries, for instance, and suddenly I’d feel someone behind me and I’d turn and it would be him, just… looking at me. One day he asked me about my little boy.”
     Her voice broke on the last word. Sarah was proud of that touch; she hadn’t been sure she could do it. She took a deep breath, blinking as though afraid there might be tears to hide. “There’s really not much else to tell. I decided to move the company here to Villa Hayes because I thought there’d be less competition. But I liked that it was so near a big city. I thought we’d be safe here.”
     She gave a little laugh. “I gave up smoking today, so I’m nervous as a cat at a dogfight, and when I looked up all I could see was your outline and”—she shook her head regretfully—“I panicked. I’m so sorry. I am not, ordinarily, such a scaredy-cat. It was like a flashback. You know?”
     Dieter gave her a long look, revealing nothing. He watched her fidget for a few moments, then signed her form. She tore off a portion of it and gave it to him as his receipt.
     “Thank you,” she said, smiling bravely, her heart thudding in a nerve wracking combination of anger and fear. “Good luck evading that dog.”
     Sarah could see the disreputable mutt waiting hopefully outside her front door. I hope he sticks to you like a burr and gives you some horrible parasite, she thought viciously.
     Given her plausible explanation and, to her mind, very convincing performance, she couldn’t help but think of him as a bully. If she really was a helpless little widow, she’d be ready to burst into tears by now.
     Dieter turned to look and his shoulders twitched. Sarah liked that; it made him seem more human and she finally began to calm down.
     He picked up his box.
     “Hasta la vista,” he said, and walked out. The dog fell in behind him, its chin a fraction of an inch from the big man’s boot heel.
     Sarah closed her eyes slowly. Then she turned to check the clock. Five-thirty. I can’t keep quitting early like this, she told herself as she headed for he office. Picking up her purse and her keys she went into the garage.
     “Ernesto,” she called. Her voice was still shaking a little and Sarah frowned at the evidence of weakness. She cleared her throat.
     He came out from under a truck. “You all right, señora?” he asked, his face full of concern.
     “Actually, I feel lousy, Ernesto.” She was willing to bet that she looked almost as bad as she felt. “I’m going home early. Can you close up for me, please?” I’ll lock the front door myself, if you’ll take care of back here.”
     “Sure,” he said, sitting up. “That man…?”
     “Oh…” Sarah waved a dismissive hand. “Mistaken identity. I feel like a complete fool. He’s just a rancher, I guess. “She shook her head. “Nothing to worry about, my friend. I’m just nervous and feeling rotten. I’ll see you in the morning.”
     “Sí. I hope that you feel better soon,” he said and waved to her before pushing himself back under the truck.
     He’d learned early in their relationship that Suzanne Krieger did not take kindly to being coddled. So showing that he was on her side was all he was prepared to do right now. But he would love to know why his tough-as-nails boss had gone running out of the garage with “just a rancher” in hot pursuit. Although he had to admit, at least to himself, if that man had started chasing him, he’d have run, too.
     “Not my business,” Ernesto muttered, picking up a wrench. She knew where to find him if she needed his help.