Excerpt from the novel Infiltrator by S.M. Stirling

OFFICE OF SERENA BURNS, EXECUTIVE HEAD OF SECURITY: THE PRESENT

WANTED: Assistant head of security at Cyberdyne Systems. Some law-enforcement background preferred. FBI experience ideal. Excellent benefits, pay commensurate with experience. Inquire…

That should reel him in.
     Serena had asked for an assistant more to test her muscle than because she needed one. The meeting had broken up rather inconclusively, with Tricker’s last words hanging in the air like a bad smell. Using what she knew of human psychology, she decided to make demands and spend money, assuming that it would make them reluctant to fire her. At least at first.
     She’d already improved the decor of her small office. The new blue carpet was deep-piled and her desk was both better looking and more efficient than its predecessor. The new desk chair was so comfortable that one could sleep in it. But the original computer was first rate, and she’d kept it. A narrow glass coffee table abutted a small white leather couch along one wall, over which was a painting of blue herons rising from a lake.
     The painting was hers. She had bought it because she thought it hinted at vulnerability and femininity. It was always best to keep humans off balance. As for the assistant, if she was going to have one and it wasn’t going to be a Terminator—neither of hers was ready yet, both being rather… raw looking—it might as well be Miles Dyson’s brother.
     She’d become aware of him while she was looking into Cyberdyne and the terrorist attach that had destroyed its earlier facility. Intrigued, she’d examined his record at the FBI. It seemed that he had often risked incurring the wrath of his superiors in order to continue to look into his brother’s death.
     So she’d hacked into his personal and work computers and examined his files, followed his tracks on the Internet, and had been impressed with what she’d found. Jordan Dyson possessed a single-mindedness that she’d, so far, found to be a rare commodity in humans.
     Alone, he’d tracked the Connors south of the border all the way to Brazil. There the trail had ended. More than one of his contacts had written, with great assurance, that the Connors were dead.
     Still, he continued to pursue them.
     It was somewhat pointless in a way; bringing Miles’s killers to justice would not restore his brother to life, and his reputation was safe. Miles Dyson had been exonerated in the attack because of his wife’s testimony that she and their son were being held hostage while he led the terrorists to Cyberdyne. The insurance companies were satisfied enough to promptly pay his family a death benefit. As far as the FBI was concerned, the case on Miles Dyson was closed.
     And after so many years, with no reported sightings of either of them, the Connors’ files were permanently at the bottom of the pile.
     Except for Special Agent Jordan Dyson that is. He still spent a few hours each week trying to find something out about their whereabouts and current activities.
     She knew he was aware of Cyberdyne’s new address and its renewed interest in his brother’s work. A dated note on his computer said, “Miles’s project!” He’d checked the advertisement for a head of security several times.
     Serena suspected that he thought the reopening of his brother’s project would bring the Connors out of hiding. As do I. And he will be helpful in seeing that they are stopped. Which gives us something in common…
     He could be very useful under the right circumstances, which meant directly under her control. Otherwise he could be a loose cannon.
     She sent out the ad with the touch of a key. If he didn’t call in the next week or so, she’d contact him. The I-950 doubted he’d be able to resist the lure of unlimited time to search for his brother’s killers.