Socrates and the Sentinel

by Thomas Fay

  Socrates and the Sentinel

  A John Tesh Novel

  Copyright © 2014 by Thomas Fay

  Amazon Kindle Edition

  ASIN B00MW1R0P8

  The right to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by Thomas Fay. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author.

  Cover Design by Art 4 Artists (www.art4artists.com.au)

  Also by Thomas Fay:

  A Mind Supreme (SF Short Stories)

  Apothecary (Fantasy Anthology)

  Acknowledgments

  I’d like to thank Dr Catherine Heath for her impeccable editing which helped

  transform the draft manuscript into the book you are about to read.

  “Through the advancement of technology, we can secure the future of mankind.”

  Qallan Frost, Chairman of the Iona Corporation

  The year is 2048 AD

  One

  They arrived at dawn. Walking swiftly past a dozen bleary-eyed pedestrians, they reached the police cordon. Uniformed officers stood at the base of the steps leading up to the public library while a shimmering holographic police tape warned casual onlookers to keep clear.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ a junior officer asked as John Tesh and Socrates stepped through the police tape.

  ‘To work. John Tesh, Sentinel. ID Alpha-101. Look it up.’

  The police officer checked his handheld computer and waved them through without a word. Walking up the steps, they stopped in front of the entrance to the library, between the dusty brown columns.

  ‘What do you think?’ John asked.

  The man was in his late sixties. He was dressed in a pair of light brown pants, pale blue shirt and brown shoes. He lay on his back at the top of the steps leading up to the public library of Iona. A hole the size of a small coin had been burned into his forehead.

  ‘Dead,’ Socrates replied.

  ‘Dead?’ John asked.

  ‘There are no visible signs of life and it seems almost certain that the laser burn on his forehead was fatal. Would you care to postulate a different hypothesis?’

  ‘No, I’m just surprised. I didn’t think androids had such an evolved sense of humour.’

  ‘We also dream of electric sheep.’

  John laughed as he clapped his associate on the shoulder. The android, named Socrates, looked around with eyes that mimicked those of a young man.

  ‘What is our next course of action?’ Socrates asked.

  John cast a guarded glance at the surveillance cameras attached to the exterior of the library as he lowered his voice.

  ‘I’d say we’ve got a couple of minutes before a detective arrives and takes charge of the crime scene. We’ve got to use that time to look for clues as to what went down here. I’ll check the body. You look around.’

  As Socrates examined the area around them, John knelt beside the dead man. Checking the victim’s pockets, he located a wallet. Opening it, he checked the ID: Walter Menzies, 5/16 Altieze Gardens, Point Piper, Iona. Putting the wallet back, he checked the other pockets. In one of them he found a folded piece of paper. Pulling it out, he unfolded it. It read simply: La Lourable, 9.00 am, Thursday. Standing up, he puzzled over its meaning.

  ‘John, I may have found something.’

  ‘Coming.’

  Slipping the piece of paper into his pocket, John walked over to where Socrates was pointing at the ground.

  ‘What are those?’ John asked.

  ‘Scorch marks from a one-man VTOL craft. Judging by the size and shape they were most likely made by Raptors,’ Socrates said.

  ‘Raptors? Only the Ruling Council uses those.’

  ‘That is correct.’

  ‘But that would mean that—’

  ‘Tesh. I should have known,’ a new voice said as a man in a long coat hurried up the stairs.

  ‘Detective Jastrzebski, a pleasure, as always. You remember my partner, Socrates?’

  ‘The android, right? What are you doing on my crime scene, Tesh?’

  ‘Your crime scene?’ John asked, a hint of amusement evident in his voice.

  ‘You might be a Sentinel but this is still a matter for the police.’

  ‘You know as well as I do that the Sentinels are to be afforded full co-operation from all law enforcement agencies.’

  ‘I may have to allow you access to the crime scene but it doesn’t mean I have to like it,’ Detective Jastrzebski said. Then: ‘What about you, Socrates, are you ready to join a real law enforcement unit?’

  ‘I am unclear of your meaning, Detective. The Sentinels are the highest form of non-Council operatives in Iona.’

  Detective Jastrzebski muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

  ‘I’m sorry, Detective, but I didn’t catch that.’

  ‘Never mind.’

  ‘If we could get—’ John began but his words were cut off as a dark shadow fell across the public library and a sonic boom reverberated off the surrounding buildings along Macquarie Street. Looking up, he saw a Ruling Council transport ship hovering fifty metres above them. The Ruling Council’s emblem, a sphere with two concentric rings around it, glinted silver on its hull. Its bulky midsection aligned with the library below as its quad engines pulsed with a steady amber glow. Seconds later, half-a-dozen Raptors descended to their location. Matt black in colour, they reminded John of a futuristic jetpack. The one-man VTOL craft made a faint whirring sound as they alighted on the stairs.

  ‘Please stand clear,’ one of the Council operatives said as he herded John and Socrates to the side. He was clad in lightweight body armour, silver in colour. His head was encased in a composite helmet with a reflective visor that obscured his face.

  ‘Now wait just a minute. We have authorisation to be here,’ John protested.

  ‘Your authorisation is hereby revoked and your presence no longer required. The great city of Iona thanks you for your service, Sentinel.’

  John considered arguing further but, seeing himself reflected in the Council operative’s visor, decided against it.

  Turning towards his partner, John said, ‘C’mon, let’s go.’

  Socrates nodded and they began to walk away. Pausing at the bottom of the steps, John turned and watched the Council operatives lift the dead man’s body. Activating their Raptors, they returned to the transport ship. Moments later they were gone.

  ‘Now that was one hell of a coincidence,’ John said.

  ‘Manson’s theory states that there are no coincidences,’ Socrates said.

  ‘I suspect that, at least in this case, Manson was right.’

  ‘What is our next course of action?’

  John showed the piece of paper to Socrates.

  ‘We go and see how the other half lives.’

  Two

  They pulled up outside the Overseas Passenger Terminal in Circular Quay. The Queen Mary IV, the world’s largest cruise ship, powered by Flux Cells, dominated the horizon. Exiting their Sentinel cruiser, John and Socrates made their way up a set of stairs to the first level where La Lourable was located. Walking through the imposing double-height entrance doors, they were stopped by an overdressed host.

  ‘Gentlemen, welcome to La Lourable. What name is the booking under?’

  John held his Sentinel badge up.

  ‘Tesh. Sentinel.’

  The host visibly paled.

  ‘Is there a problem, sir?’

  John grinned at him.

  ‘Not yet.’

  Without waiting for him to say anything further, John and Socrates moved past him. The
main dining area was filled with crystal chandeliers, marble statues and plush settees, a throwback to eighteenth-century France, complete with five-thousand-dollar bottles of champagne.

  ‘Whoever he was meeting is here somewhere,’ John said.

  ‘How do we find them?’ Socrates asked, scanning the room.

  ‘We start by... what the hell is she doing here?’ Tesh exclaimed. Socrates followed his gaze. What he saw was an attractive woman in her early thirties sitting at a corner table.

  ‘Is that…?’

  ‘My ex-wife, Lauren? Yes. This can’t be a coincidence,’ John said. ‘I’m going to talk to her. You look around and see if anyone else jumps out at you.’

  Socrates nodded as John walked over to his ex-wife. She looked up as he approached. Her blue eyes appraised him calmly as a slow smile spread across her perfect Scandinavian features.

  ‘John. This is a surprise,’ she said.

  ‘Lauren. What are you doing here?’ he asked, sitting down.

  ‘Enjoying a quiet breakfast.’

  ‘You used to be a better liar.’

  She smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. She’d clearly stuck to her exercise regime since they’d divorced and John had to admit that she looked good.

  ‘Where’s your pet android?’ she asked.

  ‘Don’t change the subject. Answer the question.’

  Lauren leaned forward.

  ‘You always were very attached to that thing.’

  ‘That thing as you call him is a citizen of Iona and my partner. Show some respect.’

  ‘Of course, John. I was only teasing. Now, what can I do for you?’

  ‘What are you really doing here, Lauren?’

  ‘Like I said before, I’m having a quiet breakfast.’

  Her eyes darted around the room. John took a chance.

  ‘He’s not coming.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Walter Menzies. That’s who you’re waiting for isn’t it?’

  Lauren was good. She didn’t even flinch.

  ‘C’mon, Lauren, don’t make me arrest you.’

  ‘Why would you do that?’

  ‘Because Walter Menzies was found lying on the steps of the public library of Iona this morning with a laser burn through his forehead. You’re now my only lead.’

  Lauren’s eyes opened wider.

  ‘He’s dead?’

  ‘Yes. What were you meeting him about?’

  ‘He was my client.’

  ‘Your client? Who was he?’

  Lauren hesitated, her eyes scanning the crowded restaurant.

  ‘Lauren this is serious. I’m not joking.’

  She remained silent. John moved to stand up.

  ‘Alright,’ Lauren said, grabbing John’s arm, ‘I’ll tell you. He was the head of the physics department at the University of Iona.’

  ‘Physics department? Why would the head of the physics department need a political consultant’s help?’

  Lauren scanned the room again. John watched the inner struggle play out on her youthful face. Finally, she said, ‘He was involved in something. I’m not sure what it was but he sounded desperate when he rang me so I arranged to meet him here. It seems I was a bit too late.’

  ‘Any idea what he was involved in?’

  ‘No. But whatever it was, it was serious. I’ve met him a couple of times before and he always struck me as a strong and composed individual. It must have been something truly overwhelming to rattle him like this. Given what happened to him, I guess he was right to be worried.’

  ‘Anything else you’re not telling me?’

  Lauren smiled, lighting up the room.

  ‘No, John, that’s it, I promise.’

  John stood up.

  ‘It was good seeing you again.’

  ‘Likewise. That Sentinel grey suit always did look good on you.’

  John smiled.

  ‘And Lauren—’

  ‘Yes, John?’

  ‘Don’t leave the city.’

  Three

  A short drive later, they arrived at Sentinel HQ. An austere black glass building on the corner of Elizabeth Street and Martin Place, it had been the home of financial corporations for decades before the birth of Iona. Now, it served as the headquarters for the foremost law enforcement agency in the sovereign city.

  They drove into the underground parking garage beneath Sentinel HQ, pausing just long enough for the security cameras to scan their registration. They parked in an empty spot and walked towards the turbo-lifts. John pressed the button for up, the biometric scanner reading his fingerprint. The doors slid open and John and Socrates boarded the turbo-lift. Ten seconds later they stepped out onto the twenty-fifth floor.

  To the casual observer, the inside of Sentinel HQ was similar to any other office environment: dark grey corridors, commercial grade carpeting and synthetic lighting. It was only when you looked closer that the large number of security surveillance devices, reinforced blast doors and highly alert personnel became apparent. Every single Sentinel was constantly alert and ready to react to any threat that materialised.

  ‘I’ll go check in with the Chief,’ John said. ‘You speak to the others. See if anyone else is working this from another angle and check the surveillance footage from the library. We might just get lucky, although I somehow doubt it.’

  Socrates nodded and disappeared down a narrow grey corridor. John took a deep breath and stepped into the Chief’s office.

  ‘What happened, Tesh?’ the Chief asked. He didn’t bother getting up from his heavily upholstered chair.

  ‘Council operatives showed up and snatched the body right out from under us.’

  ‘And you just let them take it?’

  ‘There was a swarm of Raptors, not to mention the transport ship floating above our heads.’

  ‘You’re slipping, Tesh. I remember a time when that wouldn’t have stopped you. I’m pretty sure Socrates could have taken out that transport ship if you really needed him to.’

  ‘Chief? Last time I checked, we worked for the Ruling Council, not against them. Besides, I thought your instructions to me were fairly clear in terms of being more, how did you put it, diplomatic?’

  ‘Bollocks, Tesh. You don’t just let them take a victim out from under your nose.’

  ‘I’ll remember that, Chief.’

  ‘So, any leads?’

  ‘One, but you’re not going to like it.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Lauren.’

  ‘As in your ex-wife Lauren?’

  John nodded.

  ‘You’re right, I don’t like it. What’s the connection?’

  ‘He was her client. She was meeting him this morning at La Lourable.’

  ‘La Lourable? Jesus, Tesh. How did you ever manage to keep up with that one?’

  ‘Clearly, I didn’t.’

  The Chief nodded.

  ‘Alright, you and Socrates stay on this and see where it leads.’

  ‘What about the police? Are they pursuing it as well?’

  ‘Yes and no. Officially they’re investigating. Unofficially, I don’t think they’ve allocated more than one person to it.’

  ‘Doesn’t that sound a bit odd?’

  ‘Yes, which is why I want you two on this. Keep me updated and if you need backup don’t hesitate to call.’

  ‘Will do, Chief.’

  ‘And Tesh.’

  ‘Yes, Chief?’

  ‘Try to handle this diplomatically.’

  John grinned at him.

  Four

  Altieze Gardens was one of the best residential addresses in Iona. Located in Point Piper in the Eastern Suburbs, it was surrounded by a pristine white wall. Inside was a suburb within a suburb, with carefully manicured gardens and water features, hidden driveways and helipads. It was where those with money, power and influence lived.

  ‘Looks like he was doing very well for himself. How the hell did an academic afford a place like this?’ John asked.

>   Socrates’s eyes became a blur as he interfaced with the city’s register.

  ‘Iona public records indicate that Walter Menzies’s last tax return showed a total income of just over two million. Only ten per cent was noted as being from the university, the rest was from consulting contracts and miscellaneous sources.’

  ‘Two million? Christ. Remind me to ask the Chief for a raise when we get back.’

  Socrates stared at him blankly.

  ‘That was a joke.’

  ‘I know, John. It just wasn’t a very good one,’ Socrates said as he walked across the perfectly manicured lawn. He stopped and turned around.

  ‘Coming?’

  Shaking his head in disbelief, John followed. They walked up the steps to a modern tri-level terrace house. John activated the door chime and waited.

  ‘Nobody home,’ he said, after a moment.

  ‘Not surprising. He was just found dead this morning,’ Socrates said. ‘No record of family either.’

  ‘What about staff? A guy on an annual salary of two million plus, living in Altieze Gardens, will have a number of staff to look after his place.’

  Socrates shrugged. It was a very human reaction.

  ‘Perhaps it’s their day off.’

  ‘I guess we do this the hard way,’ John said. Pressing down on the door chime, he said, ‘Sentinel override, voice identification: John Tesh ID Alpha-101. Unlock and disable all alarms.’

  The lock snicked open.

  ‘Sentinel override accepted. Alarms deactivated,’ a synthetic voice droned.

  ‘You take the downstairs. I’ll check the upper floors,’ John said. He drew his rapid-fire handgun as he moved through the door into a double height entry vestibule. It was sparsely decorated with an antique mirror and table. The stairs were directly in front of them while two doors led off to side. Socrates disappeared through one of the doors while John climbed the stairs to the first floor. Pausing, he listened for a count of five. Nothing.

  Stepping out onto the landing, he admired a Picasso hanging on the wall. The midday sun was shining through the window and he could see the waters of Double Bay beyond. The house was certainly positioned in a prime location. Not like his Inner-West studio apartment. The Chief was right. There was no way he could have ever kept up with Lauren.