by Thomas Fay
John had his opening. He took it.
‘If you help me get her out then we can ask her together.’
Twenty-Three
The usual place was a small bar in the back of Darlinghurst, called Zen, located on the ground floor of an early-twentieth-century terrace. It had served the local community as housing for the better part of its life, only being converted to a drinking establishment in the early twenty-first century. It experienced a boom during the Global Energy Crisis, due to the influx of people into the suburb. Yet the bar had retained its stoic character and charm throughout. It was a place where people could meet for a quiet drink. John and Fernali had used it on numerous occasions when they had business to discuss away from the office. The fact that vandals had a habit of disabling the surveillance cameras in that area didn’t hurt either.
‘You look tired,’ Fernali said.
‘I feel tired. It’s been a long day and I’ve got more questions than answers.’
Fernali nodded. A waitress brought over two beers, a local brew. John took a sip. Not bad; the usual floral accent of boutique breweries but surprisingly crisp and clean.
‘So what do you need?’ Fernali asked.
John put his beer down. He looked at his colleague. They had been in the police force together during the Global Energy Crisis, before the Iona Corporation had taken control of the city. They had been promoted to the Sentinels together, working as partners for eighteen months. They had been through a lot. What John was about to ask would put his friend at risk. But he had no choice.
‘I need your help getting Lauren out. She’s the key to this,’ John said.
‘Do you know where she’s being held?’ Fernali asked.
‘Yes. The Ruling Council has a number of facilities around the city. She’s being held in the Glebe facility, near the Anzac Bridge.’
‘How do you know this?’
John hesitated. He knew he couldn’t reveal his connection on the Ruling Council but he also couldn’t ask his friend to risk his life without giving him something.
‘It’s reliable intel, from within the Ruling Council.’
Fernali took a sip of his beer. His eyes never left John.
‘Interesting friends you keep, Tesh.’
‘Please, Michael. It’s Lauren. I can’t leave her in there overnight. God knows what they’ll do to her to make her talk and you know how stubborn she is.’
‘Alright, I’m in. You know you don’t really need to ask. I know you’d do the same if Kate was ever in trouble.’
‘Damn right I would. How is she, by the way?’
Fernali smiled.
‘No idea. She hasn’t spoken a word to me since the divorce.’
‘Do you miss her?’
‘No. I miss my dog, though.’
Both men laughed at that. Then they took another swig of their beers. After a quick scan of the crowd around them, they laid out their plan for breaking into the Ruling Council facility.
Twenty-Four
The Sentinel cruiser was parked underneath the Anzac Bridge, hidden from view in the shadows. The disused bulk cement terminal stretched out in front of them, along with the old car shipping yard. Dominating the horizon were the old silos. A landmark of the city for over a century, they had been transformed into a Ruling Council storage facility. While not as fortified as the Ruling Council Chambers on Garden Island, they were patrolled by a dozen armed Council operatives and had force field barriers blocking all roads.
‘So tell me again how, exactly, we get inside?’ Fernali asked. He was seated in the darkened car’s passenger seat. John sat behind the wheel.
‘A friend of the Chief’s, Agostino Romano, is going to help create a diversion. Once the guards have been drawn away, we’re going to get inside via that maintenance door over there.’
‘Okay. Now, unless your friend Romano has access to some air support, their diversion isn’t going to last very long. The Council will undoubtedly deploy a transport ship filled with Raptors as soon as the disturbance is reported.’
‘The alert will go out. But I’ve got assurances that the transport ship will be delayed by a full five minutes.’ John turned to his fellow Sentinel. ‘That means we’ve got four minutes and thirty seconds to get in, find Lauren and get out. We need to be well away from here before that transport ship arrives.’
‘Let’s get to it then.’
Fernali drew his handgun and checked it once. John did the same. They opened their doors and stepped out. They left the doors open deliberately. Every second was going to count once the alert went out and the transport ship was on its way.
They crouched behind an old cement block and watched the silo facility. The darkness of night was punctuated only by sparse street lighting and a few halogen lights attached to the exterior of the facility. Half-a-dozen Council operatives patrolled the perimeter. The same number would be on the other side. John checked his watch.
‘They should start the diversion in exactly three minutes.’
‘Good. I’m too old to be crouching in the dark.’
‘You know what they say about—’
John stopped talking as he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out and checked the caller ID: Socrates.
‘I’m a little busy right now, can this wait?’ he asked.
‘I’m sorry, John. Simone is no longer here,’ Socrates’s voice said.
‘What do you mean she’s no longer there? How did she escape?’
‘She told me she was leaving and that I was not to stop her from doing so. Once again I found myself unable to act.’
‘You were unable to disobey a direct command from Simone Greenberg? Damn, that means she’s been playing us all along. She’s working for the Ruling Council.’
‘It would appear so.’
‘I guess that explains how she knew what you were the first time we met her. I can’t believe we missed that.’
‘What would you like me to do?’
John considered his options as he checked his watch. Less than thirty seconds.
‘I need you to follow up on Jack Dell. If Karl Hobbs is still after Simone, then you might be able to find her if you can find him.’
‘I’m on it, John.’
The phone clicked off. Then all hell broke loose.
Twenty-Five
Two old New South Wales State Transit Authority buses, white and blue livery on their sides, rolled down the street. With their lights off they looked like giant metallic ghosts of the past. A hundred metres from the force field barriers, they roared to life and accelerated towards them. The antiquated petrol engines threw up a cloud of oily black smoke as they revved to the limit. Then they burst into flames. Ten seconds later they collided with the force field barrier. The resulting fireball erupted upwards and outwards as the force field barrier strained to its limit. It wavered, a shimmering curtain against the night air, silhouetted by liquid flame. Then it fractured and disappeared.
‘What are we waiting for?’ Fernali asked.
‘The second part of the diversion. They need to draw the Council operatives away,’ John replied.
A moment later, a series of flaming objects hurtled down the street. They flew straight through the remains of the force field barrier and exploded against the southern side of the silo facility. Council operatives scrambled to get out of the way.
‘What are those?’ Fernali whispered.
‘Oil barrels. It looks like the Italian community has been saving some petrol for a rainy day. Doesn’t surprise me, given their mistrust of the Flux Cell.’
The Council operatives had finally regrouped and were advancing up the street, away from the facility. A dozen figures, clad in black from head to toe, stood at the top of the street. They continued to roll and throw flaming objects at the Council facility.
‘Are they going to be okay?’ Fernali asked.
‘Judging by what I’ve seen tonight, they can take care of themselves. Not that we should really
be condoning this kind of action,’ John said. ‘Come on, the force field barriers are down. We need to get Lauren out before that transport ship arrives.’
The two of them ran around the edge of the bridge foundations and across the road to the silo facility. Flattening themselves against the side, they inched towards the maintenance door, handguns at the ready. John reached out and tried the handle, expecting it to be unlocked. It was. Alara had done her part.
Moments later they were inside. Moving silently through the sparsely lit corridor, they made their way through the service tunnels into the basement of the structure. They reached a well-lit T-junction.
‘Which way?’ Fernali asked.
‘Left. It’s about fifty metres, third door on the right.’
‘Any guards?’
John turned to look at his fellow Sentinel.
‘When are there ever not any guards?’
‘Good point. Plan?’
‘We passed a maintenance corridor a few metres back on the left. It runs straight past the storage cells and comes out just behind the one they’re keeping Lauren in. You take that and we’ll flank the guards.’
‘Good plan. See you soon.’
With that Fernali disappeared back down the corridor, leaving John all alone. He counted to ten. Satisfied that he’d given Fernali enough of a headstart, he gripped his handgun tighter and inched down the corridor. He turned into the third door on the right and ran straight into a Council operative.
‘Freeze!’ the Council operative commanded.
John obediently stopped.
‘Drop your weapon!’
John dropped his weapon.
‘This is a restricted area. You are not authorised to—’
John never got to find out what he wasn’t authorised to do as Fernali appeared behind the Council operative. A quick blow to the head dropped him to the ground, despite his protective helmet.
‘Those things are useless,’ Fernali observed.
John retrieved his handgun and stepped over the prone body of the Council operative. He opened the door to Storage Cell 3.
‘Lauren? You in here?’ John asked.
A shape moved in the darkened room. Lauren shuffled forward. She looked tired and her clothing was wrinkled but she appeared unharmed.
‘John? Is that you?’ she asked.
‘Yes. C’mon, we’ve got to hurry.’
Lauren threw her arms around him. John held her tight for a second and then pulled away.
‘We’ve really got to go. A transport ship will be here soon.’
They retraced their steps. Exiting via the maintenance door, they sprinted across the street towards the Sentinel cruiser parked underneath the bridge.
‘C’mon we’re almost there!’ John shouted.
A squad of six Council operatives emerged from the shadows beneath the bridge. Lowering their weapons, they waited. John, Fernali and Lauren skidded to a halt.
‘Do not move!’ the Council operatives commanded.
‘Damn, that really didn’t go so well,’ John whispered.
‘At least the transport ship isn’t here yet,’ Fernali said.
Just then a sonic boom resonated off the silo facility and a dark shadow descended towards them from the starlit sky above.
Twenty-Six
The transport ship’s quad engines rotated downward as it lowered itself to the ground. It maneuvered slowly, careful to avoid clipping the bridge or surrounding structures. The moment it touched down, the rear hatch slid open and two squads of heavily armed Council operatives filed out. Their reflective visors glinted in the light from the street lamps as their reinforced boots echoed off the underside of the bridge.
‘This is not good,’ John whispered.
‘You think?’ Lauren replied. Her hand gripped John’s arm. ‘Do something.’
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know. Where’s Socrates?’
‘He’s not here.’
‘Great. We’re screwed.’
The Council operatives fanned out in front of them. Behind them, another figure appeared in the open hatch. John breathed a quiet sigh of relief as Councillor Alara Green approached them.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ she asked.
One of the six Council operatives who had intercepted their car stepped forward.
‘Councillor, we apprehended these people trying to escape from the silo facility. This woman was taken for questioning in relation to a matter of Council security.’
‘On whose authority?’
‘Councillor Jonathan Gage.’
‘You have done well. I will take them back to the Ruling Council Chambers for questioning myself.’
The Council operative nodded stiffly.
‘As you wish, Councillor.’
John avoided looking directly at Alara as they were herded towards the waiting transport ship. Once inside, the hatch slid shut behind them and the craft lifted into the air with a faint surge of power.
‘Leave me with the prisoners,’ Alara ordered.
‘Yes, Councillor.’
As one, the operatives left the rear compartment of the transport ship, leaving John, Fernali and Lauren alone with the Councillor.
‘Thanks. That was close,’ John said, once they were alone.
‘You’re lucky I managed to intercept the transport ship dispatched to investigate the disturbance. Your friends caused quite a bit of damage when they disabled that force field barrier.’
‘Sorry about that.’
Alara nodded. Then her eyes narrowed.
‘Gage is becoming more aggressive in his attempts to gain control of the Ruling Council.’
‘Isn’t there anything the rest of you can do?’
‘I’m afraid that, with Qallan Frost gone, there is no one strong enough to hold him in check. The Council is dissolving into separate factions, each with their own agenda. If Qallan Frost does not return soon then it could degenerate into an all-out power struggle.’
‘Wait a second. When did you say Frost disappeared?’ John asked.
‘Two days ago. He never showed up for the Tuesday morning Council session.’
‘But he called me last night,’ Lauren said.
‘Are you certain?’ Alara asked.
‘Yes. He said that he wanted to acquire Walter Menzies’s research on M-theory energy transference.’
‘And the Chief said that Frost called him this morning to check on the investigation into Walter Menzies’s murder,’ John said.
‘If that’s true then it could explain why Gage is interfering with your investigation.’
‘Because there’s something that he doesn’t want Frost to have.’
‘Exactly. I’m sorry, John. It looks like you’ve been drawn into a power play at the highest level.’
John nodded. Then he smiled.
‘At least we know what we need to do to resolve it.’
‘What’s that?’ Lauren asked.
‘We need to figure out who killed Walter Menzies and why.’
Twenty-Seven
The transport ship flew a wide anticlockwise arc across Balmain and out into the harbour. The lights of small boats and larger cruise ships shone brightly against the darkened water, while the faint glow of hundreds of holographic television screens could be seen through apartment windows along the shore. The transport ship accelerated effortlessly into the air, passing through a thin layer of wispy clouds. Levelling out, it glided along the ghostly white shapes as the moon shone down from above. Ten seconds later it dropped out of the sky and hovered over a vacant parking lot.
‘Where are we?’ John asked.
‘Back of Mascot, near the airport,’ Alara said.
‘Time to get going then,’ John said, motioning to Fernali and Lauren. They jumped down onto the asphalt below. John paused.
‘Thanks again. I know you took a big risk to come and save us,’ he said.
‘Just find out who killed Walter Menzies and why before Ga
ge takes over the Ruling Council,’ Alara said.
‘I will.’
John dropped down onto the parking lot. Straightening up, he watched the transport ship lift into the air. Seconds later it was gone.
‘Interesting friends you have there, Tesh,’ Fernali said. ‘I thought you didn’t like her very much.’
‘A ruse to hide our friendship. We’ve helped each other out over the years.’
‘So what do we do now?’
John cast a critical eye over Lauren. She was trembling slightly and looked dead tired.
‘Now we go and get some rest. Tomorrow morning I want you and Streeter back at Sentinel HQ working with the financial crimes division. I want to know everything there is to know about Karl Hobbs.’
‘Okay, will do. Goodnight, Lauren.’
‘Goodnight, Michael. Thanks again,’ Lauren said.
Fernali took his bearings and walked across the parking lot to the main road on the other side. He hailed a cab and was gone. John turned to Lauren.
‘Are you alright?’ he asked.
‘Not really. That was a serious abuse of power. They just took me by force.’
‘I know. But it also means we’ve stumbled onto something really big here.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Gage is so desperate to cover it up, to the point where he’s interfering in a Sentinel investigation. But we can talk about that tomorrow. C’mon, we’d better get you home.’
‘Home? Are you crazy? I’ve got a power-hungry Councillor after me, not to mention someone’s trying to kill me. No way. We’re going to your place.’
John smiled.
‘Alright. I’d better call Socrates and let him know what happened.’
John pulled out his phone. Then he looked at Lauren.
‘What? No wisecrack about my pet android?’
‘I’m tired, John. Maybe tomorrow.’
‘Fair enough.’
He flicked the phone open and dialled Socrates. No answer. He tried again. Nothing.
‘That’s strange.’