Piece of Nicias
Chapter One
It was supposed to be an easy robbery.
James Rivan rested his feet on the ledge. His arm muscles ached from the climb and he allowed himself a moment to relax before moving on. The climb up the outside of the tower block was long but not especially difficult. The first ten floors had security sensors that he had defeated but otherwise it had been straight-forward. He flexed his fingers for a moment, allowing his climbing spikes to hang free on their straps.
Rivan glanced down.
He could still hear the swish of the traffic as the air-cars raced by in the rain below. He had been lucky with the weather. Because of the rain, air-cars were banned from hovering above ground level. It would have been embarrassing to be caught breaking into a high security building like this one by a pair of lovers out for a moonlit evening drive.
Rivan glanced up.
The fluffy white clouds reflected the street lamps. Against the relatively bright background of the white clouds, the rooftop apartment of this tower block stood in a dark, forbidding contrast.
This side of the building had a central core of red stone brickwork. It was much cheaper to build a framework of brick and steel before adding in the graphite glass than to make the building solely of graphite. The mortar of the brickwork was crumbling from age. Even if the brickwork had been new, Rivan was confident that he could have planted his two diamond tipped climbing spikes into the mortar.
Just one more floor. Rivan thought as he pressed the first spike into the mortar. He tested the grip of the spike before pulling himself up. The spike in his left hand followed suit.
Ellis had persuaded him to take this last job. Truth to be told, the one hundred and fifty million credit painting that was rumoured to be hidden in the safe was a powerful motivator. In a small backpack, Rivan had his Pulsaro computer with a safe cracking program Ellis had supplied. It was guaranteed, Ellis informed him, to open any electronic door or safe. Rivan hoped it would work. He was not looking forward to climbing up this tower tomorrow with a different safe cracking program if it didn’t.
Rivan pulled himself onto the next ledge, glancing through the window at the empty room. He pressed one of the spikes into the brickwork at the side of the window and tied himself to it with a strap. He needed his hands free to open the window.
The safe cracking program was already installed on his Pulsaro computer. Rivan strapped the computer to his wrist and pressed a button on the bracelet sliding the micro screen out. There was a way to open the computer with a flick of the wrist but Rivan had never mastered that skill.
A few button presses later and the window buzzed open. So far so good. The computer program worked.
Rivan untied the strap, leaving the spikes embedded in the brickwork for a quick escape. The room was exactly as Ellis had described it. A decorative fireplace adorned one wall with three small tasteful vases neatly arranged in front of it. A long sofa stretched from a side door to the window, colourful throw cushions were piled in a heap in one corner of the sofa. There was a small table next to a second door with a cream table lamp casting a gentle light across the room.
Rivan climbed through the window and balanced carefully on the inner window sill. He studied the carpeted floor and the skirting board at the base of the wall. There were no trailing wires or obvious bulges which indicated an alarm under the floor. Nor were there any extra switches to turn off such an alarm. The carpet however was white. Rivan could not walk across the carpet in his boots without leaving a visible trace.
He slipped off his boots and placed them on the window sill. Then hopped to the ground. His feet sank into luxury. Rivan walked across the soft carpet, his bare feet tingling as the soft fibres kissed them.
He studied the fireplace closely. There were no obvious bulges or openings. From his backpack he withdrew a small magnet and ran the magnet across the underside of the crown of the fireplace.
He heard a small click.
Rivan pulled at the mantle and the fireplace slid to one side. The door to a large electronic safe lay hidden behind the fireplace. The door was about five foot tall with large hinges on either side. A small card machine was inset into it. Opening of the safe required a key card and a four digit code unless of course one had a safe cracking tool like Ellis had supplied.
Rivan grinned in relief. So far everything was going to plan. All he needed to do was grab the painting and climb back down, then he would be rich. That is, once he opened the safe.
He opened his backpack and retrieved a small card machine. It was a twin to the machine already inset into the door of the safe. He attached his card machine next to the existing one and used alligator clips to connect the two together. A red light appeared on the card reader. There was a slight hum as the card machine started up.
Rivan accessed a program on his Pulsaro computer. There was a faint whirring sound from the card reader, which confused him for a moment. He dismissed it from his mind when the lock to the safe clicked and the colour on the card reader changed from red to green.
He pulled the safe door open eagerly. He ducked his head as he stepped inside. It was a large room, perhaps half the size of the room he was in. A harsh bulb provided the light which reflected off four white tiled walls. There were several storage racks with bottles of vintage wine. A shelf at the back of the room held several whiskey bottles.
There was nothing else there.
He quickly searched the walls for any concealed switches. There had to be another hidden room inside this room.
“There’s nothing there.”
Rivan spun around. There were several men standing behind him. The one who had spoken was dressed in a dark evening suit. The others were Peace Officers.
Rivan was thrown to the ground and handcuffed by wrist restraints. The last thing he heard was the voice saying, “Ellis told me he was faster.” Then there was blackness.
*
“Walk faster.” Roger Stone said. He looked back at his smaller friend. “We’re going to be late.”
“I’m vertically challenged.” David Rawlins said. “You’re not actually walking faster, you’re simply striding longer steps. Why are we hurrying anyway, I’ve already met your sister?”
“I’m walking faster because it’s raining and my sister told me not to be late.” Stone said. He slowed his pace slightly. “She has a new boyfriend and wanted to introduce me.”
“This is her third boyfriend this year or is it her fourth?” Rawlins said. “Why is he so special?”
“Third I think, but Clare said that he is the one.” Stone said. He shrugged. “He’s the first boyfriend this year to whom she is introducing me. I have my orders to turn up on time.”
“First impression and all that.” Rawlins said. “So why am I coming along?”
“I need you as my excuse to get out of there.” Stone said. “You know how awkward I feel at these things.”
Stone slowed as they turned a corner.
“I don’t want to arrive out of breath.” Stone said.
“Just soaking wet and with me in tow.” Rawlins said in reply.
Stone pretended that he did not hear. He indicated a house at the end of the street. It was a tall town house, glistening in the light of a solitary street lamp. There were three other houses in the street, each crouched in darkness behind a row of manicured hedges.
As they entered the street Rawlins stepped into a puddle of rainwater. He cursed and hopped for a moment.
“Dammit.” Rawlins said. “Could my day get any worse?”
Stone paused for a moment for Rawlins to catch up. They both approached the front door to the town house. There was an air-car p
arked in the drive. Stone indicated the expensive vehicle with an upraised chin.
“That must be the boyfriend’s air-car. Clare would never buy something so flashy.”
A sensor light greeted them as they approached the door, lighting the two steps in front of the house. Stone knocked gently and a young man, dressed in a tailored suit, answered the door.
“May I help you?”
Stone introduced himself.
“Ahh, the famous Captain Roger Stone. I’ve been expecting you.” The man said. “I’m Terrence, John Terrence. Please come in.”
Stone and Rawlins stepped into the house, wiping their feet on the rug. Terrence led them into a small side room. It was tastefully decorated with a delicate floral pattern on the walls. Stone recognised on one wall a small watercolour painting of his father’s first spaceship. That painting had inspired his own dream of commanding a spaceship. On a sofa there was a stack of loose leaflets.
“Clare is still shopping.” Terrence said. “Can I offer you some wine while we wait?”
Stone and Rawlins both accepted and they sat. Rawlins carefully lowered himself to the sofa, ensuring that his wet trousers did not stain it. The stack of leaflets collapsed on him and he picked up one of them and started to read.
“Do you captain a spaceship as well?” Terrance asked Rawlins.
“No I don’t.” Rawlins replied. He took a long draft from his wine glass and nodded approvingly. “I’m Roger’s First Engineer. We berthed together for two years before Roger got command of his ship.”
“And you don’t own the ship, you just command it?” Terrence asked, turning to Stone.
“No, it’s owned by the consortium.” Stone said. He sipped the wine, rolling the flavour around his tongue. “Perhaps when I win the lottery, I can buy my own ship. Unless you could loan me half a billion credits?”
Stone smiled at his own joke. The smile faded at Terrence’s empty expression.
Rawlins frowned. The leaflet that he was reading was calling for a rise up of the workers, to throw off their chains of servitude and become the masters. He passed the leaflet to Stone who glanced at it.
“When is Clare due back?” Rawlins asked.
“She said that she would only be … Oh, that must be her now.”
The sensor light had turned on again. Terrence stood up and walked towards the door. Just as he touched the door handle, the door burst open inwards. The impact threw him tumbling to the floor.
Stone and Rawlins sprang to their feet as a torrent of heavily armoured Peace Officers streamed into the sitting room. Stone and Rawlins were both thrown to the ground. A firearm discharged. A painful knee pressed against Stone’s spine. His rights were read to him.
“Contraband material.” Stone heard one of the Peace Officers say. They gathered the leaflets into evidence bags. Stone and Rawlins were dragged to their feet and half carried from the room. They were both thrust into a waiting hovercraft outside, restraints clasped over their wrists. It only took a moment for the tranquillisers in the wrist restraints to affect Stone. He blacked out.
*
“What do we want?” Tyler Hart shouted.
Hart’s voice was raw from shouting. The day has started clear and warm but he knew from past experience how cold the evening demonstration would be, standing unmoved in one place, chanting and singing. He was glad he had dressed warm and wore rain gear. The rain had not deterred the crowd, several of whom had started small fires to keep warm.
“Bread and Roses.” The crowd responded.
Tyler smiled as the thunderous roar swept over him. They would be able to hear the chants from inside the parliament buildings. Surely they could not ignore the crowd shouting for food and basic human rights. He thrust his right arm into the air.
“What … do … we … want?”
The crowd surged forward at his frenzied shout. Tyler could feel the crowd. The rhythm in their chants. The excitement in their shouts. A feeling of exhilaration swept through him. He really felt alive, leading this crowd, feeling the pulse of the people. This collective sense of power was what drove him to stand up on the podium and face the crowd.
“Bread and Roses.”
A number of Peace Officers threaded their way across the back of the crowd. One of them held an electronic microphone which could control the loudspeakers contained within the street lamps of the parliament square. This was a good sign to Tyler. It meant that the rumble of the crowd was loud enough to upset the deliberations of the members in the parliament building. It also meant that Tyler was likely to be arrested yet again. Each arrest would lead to a small fine. A mere slap on the wrist when you consider the power he gained by being revered as a martyr.
“What do we want?”
“Please disperse immediately.”
The Peace Officer repeated his call and the crowd stirred restlessly. There was a small surge of the crowd and Tyler could see the Peace Officers were pushed back, their worried expressions hidden behind darkened helmets.
“This demonstration is legal.” Tyler shouted. “We have the right to protest and the right to be heard.”
At the back of the crowd Tyler could see a disturbance as another detachment of Peace Officers marched into the Parliament Square, their batons readied. The crowd moved restlessly.
“What do we want?” Tyler shouted.
“Bread and roses.”
The response was half hearted as people in the crowd craned their necks looking at the parade of batons behind them. The Peace Officers mustered into a line blocking the exit from the parliament square.
A Peace Officer leapt onto the podium beside Tyler. He stepped behind Tyler, placed his baton across Tyler’s throat and dragged Tyler backwards off the podium. Tyler tried to shout ‘No’ as the crowd surged forward.
Tyler blacked out.
*
“How difficult is it to control a crowd?” Paul Simmons said. He was standing on a bench in the common room along with Mike Leyland staring out at the excitement outside. “Really. I am genuinely shocked that the Peace Officers have allowed this crowd to build up outside this sacred building.”
“It is traditional to allow the people the right to use the podium to protest.” Leyland said. “Somehow it makes them feel that they have been heard. We are safe here sir.”
They both climbed from the bench. Simmons started to pace the length of the room. Leyland sat on the bench looking at the pictures of old ministers on the wall opposite. They stared back at him.
“You may wish to be patient sir.” Leyland said. “The council has heard your request to open the asteroids for construction. They have seen the financials you provided and know that you have the resources behind you. You have been very generous with your bribes and you are willing to open space habitats, in addition to your hotels, to the less fortunate. You have done everything you can, so relax.”
Simmons turned and stared at him.
“There is too much at risk Mr Leyland.” Simmons said. “My reputation is at stake if we cannot obtain this agreement, I will be ruined.”
“We can still rebuild sir.” Leyland said. “Everyone admires you for how you out-manoeuvred Rory Ashme last week when the requisition for the new destroyers was implemented. You must be positive. Even in defeat we can start afresh.”
“The trick we pulled for the requisition of the destroyers was genius.” Simmons admitted. “But I do not think we could pull that off again a second time.”
Simmons started as a crashing sound was heard outside.
“It sounds like a riot outside.” Leyland said. “We should be safe here. The Peace Officers will bring the situation under control quite quickly.”
A brick bounced off the windows. The rumble of the crowd grew louder.
“Perhaps we should return to the main chamber.” Simmons said.
As they moved towards the entrance to the chamber there was a crash behind them. They turned. There was a large brick on the floor near where they had been talk
ing surrounded by splinters of glass.
At that moment there was a sonorous boom and an electronically enhanced voice sounded from the inner chambers confirming that the council session had resumed.
“We need to go sir.” Leyland said. He ushered Simmons from the room.
*
“Close up ranks.” Lieutenant Nicholas Hammond said.
For the last hour the Peace Officers under his command had slowly filtered to the back of the demonstration. Hammond had recognised Tyler Hart from the distance without needing to use the enhanced sights on his helmet. Hart was a familiar figure to the Peace Officers. Although his demonstrations were largely peaceful, Hart was very good at stirring the people. It was not unusual for a riot to start after the demonstration had finished, then Hart would raise his hands and decry the actions of the Peace Officers and their pushy ways of defending themselves.
Piece of Nicias: A Sci-Fi Novel Page 1
