Socrates and the Sentinel

by Thomas Fay

  ‘What about Qallan Frost?’ John asked.

  ‘I’ll do what I can to keep him away from you for now. But the fact that he’s interested, and I can see why now, worries me. You’ve definitely stumbled onto something big.’

  John stood up.

  ‘I’ll be in touch.’

  With that he left the Chief’s office. Closing the door, he walked down the narrow corridor to the interview rooms. Entering through the door marked Interview Room 4 he found Lauren and Socrates inside.

  ‘Everything okay?’ Lauren asked.

  ‘Fine.’

  He took a seat opposite Lauren. Socrates stood behind him, his face expressionless.

  ‘Now. Start from the beginning, leave nothing out. How did this start?’ John asked.

  Lauren took a deep breath. Then she began to speak, in a steady tone.

  ‘It started with a phone call from Walter Menzies last night. As I mentioned before, I had met him on a few occasions so I knew who he was. I also knew that he derived most of his funding from private consulting contracts. So when he called and said that he wanted to meet me urgently, I set up the meeting at La Lourable.’

  ‘How did he sound on the phone?’

  ‘Agitated, worried. He wanted to meet me right away, saying that he needed urgent help. I said that there wasn’t much I could do for him until the next day and if it was something serious then he should contact the authorities. He seemed to get even more agitated at that suggestion. So I told him I would meet him at 9.00 am at La Lourable. He wrote it down. Then he hung up.’

  ‘What happened then?’

  ‘That’s when things got really interesting.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Lauren took a deep breath.

  ‘Almost as soon as he hung up I received another phone call. From Qallan Frost, no less. He wanted to meet me to discuss acquiring Walter Menzies’s research, which was very strange.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because Walter Menzies had never mentioned any research.’

  ‘Okay. Anything else?’

  ‘No, that’s it. There’s nothing else I can think of that’s relevant to this.’

  John leaned across the table, his eyes looking straight at Lauren.

  ‘You sure this time?’

  ‘Yes, John. I promise. That’s it.’

  ‘I’ve heard that before. It still doesn’t explain why someone tried to kill you. I’ll make sure that you receive Sentinel protection until this is over.’

  Lauren nodded but said nothing. John motioned to his partner. Together they exited the interview room.

  ‘What do you think?’ John asked.

  ‘I believe she’s telling the truth. But there’s still something that she’s holding back.’

  ‘I agree. I’ll ask the Chief to assign a team to her. Meet me in the parking lot in ten minutes.’

  Nine

  The Sentinel cruiser exited the underground parking garage beneath Sentinel HQ, the surveillance cameras recording their departure. They emerged onto Elizabeth Street heading south. John drove with Socrates beside him.

  ‘Did we get anything from the surveillance cameras at the library?’ John asked.

  ‘No. There is a loop in the recording of about 15 minutes. Whoever subverted the cameras knew what they were doing.’

  ‘It figures. That would have been too easy.’

  They drove in silence for a few seconds.

  ‘I ran a background check on Simone Greenberg,’ Socrates said, suddenly.

  ‘And?’ John asked.

  ‘Nothing.’

  John turned to his partner.

  ‘What do you mean nothing?’

  ‘Nothing. There is no record of a person called Simone Greenberg or anyone matching her description.’

  Instead of saying anything, John activated his phone. The sound of ringing echoed throughout the vehicle. It was answered on the second ring.

  ‘This is Fernali,’ the voice on the other side said.

  ‘It’s Tesh. Are you still at the crime scene?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Please tell me nothing unusual has happened.’

  ‘Well, as long as your definition of unusual doesn’t include a Ruling Council transport ship showing up and taking possession of the gunman’s body, then no.’

  ‘Damn it! Alright, you and Streeter get over to the university, building A28, room 205. Get a police forensics team down there and go over that room with a fine-toothed comb. It’s a long shot but it might just pan out.’

  ‘On it.’

  The phone clicked off. John slammed his fists down onto the steering wheel.

  ‘Are you alright, John?’ Socrates asked.

  ‘We’re being played. I don’t like this.’

  ‘Because Simone Greenberg was planted by someone to steer our investigation in a particular direction?’

  ‘Yes. For all we know, what she told us could be complete fiction. We’re practically back to square one.’

  ‘What should we do?’

  John considered the question for a moment. Then he slammed the brakes on as he executed a power slide and U-turned the car. The moment it had spun around 180 degrees, he floored it. The car straightened and shot forward, startling several pedestrians.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Socrates asked.

  ‘To get some answers. There are too many things that we don’t know and every time we try to find out the Ruling Council gets in our way. It’s time we changed that.’

  ‘We will need to schedule an appointment to see Qallan Frost.’

  ‘We’re not going to see Qallan Frost. We’re going to see Councillor Alara Green.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t like her very much,’ Socrates said. ‘Didn’t you once compare her to an iceberg, both in terms of her lack of human warmth and her ability to destroy anything in her path?’

  John smiled.

  ‘Yes. She is. But she’s also our best bet for finding out what’s going on and why the Ruling Council keeps interfering in what is a matter for the Sentinels and the police.’

  Socrates said nothing. The Sentinel cruiser reached the corner of Hunter Street. Turning right and then left onto Macquarie Street, John absently noted the public library where it had all started just a few hours earlier. Then they turned onto the Cahill Expressway heading for the Iona Ruling Council Chambers.

  Ten

  They came to a complete stop. The former Royal Australian Navy base on Garden Island had been transformed by the Iona Corporation into a veritable fortress. Five-metre-high titanium-reinforced walls with dense force field generators surrounded it on all sides. Heavily armed Council operatives patrolled the walls, their reflective helmets glinting silver in the afternoon sun. Ruling Council transport ships took off and landed at regular intervals, returning from patrols or mission-specific duties. No one had ever successfully breached the security of the Iona Ruling Council Chambers. There was only one way in. By invitation.

  ‘I’m here to see Councillor Alara Green,’ John said.

  ‘Do you have an appointment?’ the faceless Council operative asked.

  ‘No, but she’s expecting me.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. Either you have an appointment or I cannot allow you to pass.’

  John held up his Sentinel badge.

  ‘John Tesh, Sentinel ID Alpha-101. Let me through.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. I cannot allow you through.’

  The Council operative stepped away and waved them off. John reluctantly grasped the wheel and turned the car around. Hitting the accelerator, the Flux Cell delivered an effortless burst of power and the car took off along Cowper Wharf Roadway.

  ‘We were unsuccessful in gaining access to see Councillor Alara Green,’ Socrates said.

  John smiled.

  ‘Were we?’

  ‘We are heading in the opposite direction from the Ruling Council Chambers and we were not allowed in. Yes, I would conclude that we were unsuccessful.’

 
‘We’ll see.’

  They drove in silence for about ten minutes, entering the Eastern Distributor tunnel heading towards the airport. Exiting at Port Botany, they drove past the working port to the end of Prince of Wales Drive. Pulling into a dead end, John switched the car off and stepped out. Leaning back inside, he asked, ‘Coming?’

  Socrates opened his door and stepped out. He joined John at the edge of the water, on top of the reinforced shoreline.

  ‘What are we—’

  His words were cut off as the water in front of them began to churn. Seconds later a submersible vessel floated to the surface. Matt black in colour, it was akin to a flattened torpedo and about the size of a large people mover. Its entire surface was covered in highly absorbent stealth material, its streamlined shape effectively reducing its radar signature to that of a large fish. It was virtually undetectable by conventional methods. Perfect for covert operations conducted by the Ruling Council.

  The vessel pulled up alongside the shore. Its matt black cockpit slid back with a faint hiss of air. Inside were two Council operatives in semi-reclined positions surrounded by holographic displays. The third occupant, a dark-haired woman in her mid-forties, stood up and stepped out onto the shore. She was dressed in an austere charcoal suit with a white shirt. Her long hair was tied back in a single strand, accentuating her pronounced cheekbones. Her grey eyes stared directly at John.

  ‘John Tesh,’ she said.

  ‘Councillor Alara Green,’ John replied.

  ‘This really isn’t a good time. We’re right in the middle of something.’

  ‘So are we and I need some answers. Why is the Ruling Council interfering in a murder investigation?’ John asked.

  Alara considered his words for a moment, her grey eyes revealing nothing of what she was thinking.

  ‘I was not aware of this. The Council has a strict policy of non-interference with police and, more specifically, Sentinel investigations.’

  ‘You mean the Ruling Council does not act in unison?’

  ‘No. It would appear that some Councillors are enacting their own agenda.’

  ‘Has that ever happened before?’

  ‘No.’

  John considered the Councillor’s words. His gaze flicked to Socrates. The android stood passively at his side, his gaze never leaving the submersible vessel floating in front of them.

  ‘What are you not telling me?’ John asked.

  Alara hesitated.

  ‘Councillor?’

  ‘The Ruling Council is in a state of flux.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Qallan Frost has disappeared.’

  Eleven

  John picked up the cup of coffee. Taking a sip, he savoured the smooth, creamy texture of the exotic blend. Good coffee.

  Socrates was seated across from John in the small coffee shop located on the edge of Hyde Park. Their unmarked Sentinel cruiser was parked ten feet away from them along College Street. Unlike John, Socrates did not have a cup of coffee in front of him.

  ‘This case has taken an interesting turn,’ John said.

  ‘Indeed. The disappearance of Qallan Frost raises a number of questions and I have attempted to analyse a progression of scenarios that would correlate with our investigation so far,’ Socrates said.

  ‘And…?’

  ‘I am unable to draw any meaningful conclusions without more information.’

  ‘Well, let’s consider what’s happened today and what we know. Menzies, the head of the physics department at the University of Iona, was found dead this morning. He called Lauren the night before, desperate for a meeting. Just after he rang Lauren, Qallan Frost also contacted her wanting to acquire his research. Sometime after that conversation and before dawn this morning, Menzies was killed with what appears to be an industrial laser.’

  Socrates sat listening. John took another sip of his coffee.

  ‘So we arrived on the scene to find his body. Only moments later, it was taken away by Council operatives, who we can now assume are not acting with the full authority of the Ruling Council. We know that Walter Menzies’s office was thoroughly searched. We know that someone tried to kill Lauren. We know that Qallan Frost, the Chairman of the Iona Corporation, the most powerful and influential person on the planet, has disappeared.’

  John put his cup down, empty. Motioning the waitress, he ordered another.

  ‘And finally, we may or may not know that the research Walter Menzies was working on had something to do with energy transference based on M-theory. A direct challenge to the Iona Corporation’s Flux Cell technology that saved the world.’

  ‘I agree with your summary, John. It still doesn’t help us figure out what our next course of action is or why any of this is happening.’

  ‘Yes, it does. We have two clear avenues of investigation open to us. First, we need to track down Simone Greenberg. I want to know who she is and whom she’s working for. That will allow us to confirm if what she told us is true or not.’

  ‘And the second?’

  ‘The other ninety per cent of Walter Menzies’s income. I want to know what he was paid 1.8 million dollars to do. And, more importantly, by whom. If we can find out what he was working on and for whom, that will give us valuable insight into a motive for his murder.’

  ‘What about Qallan Frost? Should we not make locating him our number one priority?’

  ‘Not at this stage. Frost’s disappearance is a matter for the Council, Alara made that perfectly clear. Until they ask for our assistance we can’t interfere. Besides, it seems like too much of a coincidence that he disappeared today of all days and we both know what Manson thought of coincidences.’

  ‘I find your reasoning sound as always. How do you wish to proceed?’

  John accepted his second cup of coffee. He drank it in silence for a moment, watching the cars driving along College Street in front of St Mary’s Cathedral. One of the spires was still being meticulously reconstructed. The church had suffered considerable damage during the Global Energy Crisis. Thanks to the generosity of the Iona Corporation, it had almost been restored to its former glory.

  Placing his empty cup on the table, John stood up.

  ‘Let’s go talk to Lauren. I’m certain that she knows who Walter Menzies was working for, other than the university.’

  ‘What about Simone Greenberg?’

  ‘We’ll get our techs to run facial and voice recognition on her. I assume you can provide them with a clear image and an audio sample?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘It’s a shame you can’t access the surveillance cameras yourself.’

  ‘We’ve discussed this with the Chief before, John. He was quite adamant that sort of access could be dangerous if my programming was ever subverted.’

  ‘Like that could ever happen.’

  John smiled. It was almost unfair having Socrates as a partner. Not only could he dominate any physical confrontation, he could also analyse and record everything that transpired in real time. His smile wavered and vanished when he realised that he still didn’t know where his partner came from or who had constructed him. It was a mystery that he would have to solve very soon.

  ‘Are you alright, John?’ Socrates asked.

  ‘Fine,’ John replied as they pulled away from the kerb, heading back to Sentinel HQ.

  Twelve

  The Sentinel tech lab was an impressive sight. Located in the basement of Sentinel HQ in what had once been a food court and shopping plaza connecting the train station in Martin Place to the office building above, it had been transformed into a high-tech analysis and processing centre. Shimmering holographic screens flickered intermittently while technicians in white coats moved around with purpose. The walls were covered in floor-to-ceiling computer hardware. Not the aesthetically pleasing personal units that people had in their homes or in their offices—these items represented raw processing power of the sort usually not seen outside the largest corporations, university supercomputer labs or
data processing centres.

  John and Socrates stood next to a young technician named James Gleason.

  ‘Did you get the image and voice sample?’ John asked.

  ‘Yes. The quality is amazing. I don’t think any portable device we have in existence can record to this sort of resolution,’ James said.

  ‘That is how I perceive the world. Whoever built me ensured that my senses missed nothing,’ Socrates said.

  ‘Tell me about it. You can zoom in to the nth degree on any part of this image and the resolution doesn’t deteriorate. It’s amazing.’

  ‘So you’ve got what you need?’ John asked.

  James nodded.

  ‘Yes. I’ll run every form of facial and voice recognition we have. I’ll also run it against all the live video feeds we have running around the city. If she’s out there, we should be able to find out who she is and where she is within a few hours.’

  John nodded. He and Socrates walked back towards the lift banks. Activating the fingerprint-coded call switch, they entered the turbo-lift. Seconds later they exited on the twenty-fifth floor. They walked down the corridor to Interview Room 4. Pushing the door open, John froze.

  Four heavily armed Council operatives stood inside. Lauren sat at the table. She looked frightened. A man sat opposite her, with his back to John and Socrates.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ John asked. He absently noted that Socrates had positioned himself between him and the Council operatives, within easy reach of Lauren.

  The man slowly stood up and turned around. He was in his mid-fifties, with silvery hair and deep frown lines. His eyes were like two icicles, completely devoid of any emotion or feeling as he stared at John.

  ‘I am Councillor Jonathan Gage,’ the man said.

  ‘John Tesh, Sentinel. What is the meaning of this?’

  Jonathan Gage leaned closer, his cold, blue eyes never wavering.

  ‘Watch your tone, Sentinel. The Ruling Council is the supreme authority within Iona. My status is absolute. Your status, on the other hand, can be revoked instantly and I can have you arrested for interfering with a matter of Council security.’