by Thomas Fay
Socrates and the Councillor
A John Tesh Novel
Copyright © 2017 by Thomas Fay
Amazon Kindle Edition
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:
John Tesh Novels
Socrates and the Sentinel
The Founder Saga
Sirens Journey
Short Story Collections
Apothecary (Fantasy Anthology)
A Mind Supreme (SF Short Stories)
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank my editor, Dr Catherine Heath, for her continuing efforts to correct my many mistakes and Yvonne Less for bringing my characters to life in her amazing cover designs.
“The Sentinels were created with one overriding objective—
the protection of Iona and its citizens.”
Qallan Frost, Chairman of the Iona Corporation
The year is 2044 AD
One
John’s phone, a retro model designed to look like a late twentieth century flip phone, rang, low and urgent. He checked the caller ID: Sentinel HQ. He flicked it open.
‘Tesh here.’
‘Where are you?’ the Chief’s voice demanded.
‘The old RBA building across the road. Fernali and I are working on the Mavis case.’
‘Fernali is going to have to do without you for a while. I need you back at HQ.’
‘Chief, I need—’
‘Now, Tesh. This isn’t a request.’
The phone switched off. John considered calling the Chief back but decided against it. Whatever it was, it had to be important. He stood up. Grabbing his dark-grey suit jacket, he turned to his partner.
‘Sorry, Fernali. Looks like you’re on your own for a while,’ John said.
Michael Fernali looked up. He was dressed in an identical Sentinel dark-grey suit, black shirt and grey tie. His silver-tinged hair caught the light beaming through the narrow windows as he addressed his partner.
‘The Chief?’ Fernali asked.
John nodded.
‘Serious?’
‘Sounded like it.’
‘Better get going. I’ll give you a call later if I find anything. And, John … ’
‘Yes?’
‘Stay out of trouble.’
John grinned.
‘Do my best.’
He exited the old RBA building, now the seat of the CBI, the Central Bank of Iona. The heat of the summer sun bore down on him as he left the air-conditioned world of monetary and fiscal policy behind. Walking down Martin Place, he crossed the road and entered Sentinel HQ. He pressed the button for up, the biometric scanner registering his fingerprint and calling the turbo-lift. Getting in, he pressed the button for the twenty-fifth floor. Seconds later the doors slid open.
‘Tesh—get in here!’ the Chief bellowed from his office. It seemed to be his favourite method of communication, John thought as he entered the modestly sized office.
‘What’s going on, Chief?’ he asked.
‘Sit down.’
John took the chair opposite the Chief. He leaned back into the hard leather, trying to get comfortable. It wasn’t to be. The Chief sat behind an old-fashioned wooden desk. He was dressed in the Sentinel dark grey. His identical uniform belied his importance as the leader of the Sentinels. His identity kept secret for his own safety and the security of those close to him, he was known only as the Chief.
‘Tesh, you’ve managed to make quite a name for yourself over the past eighteen months. Your work on the Hendricks case alone was enough to validate your promotion to the Sentinels.’
‘Thank you, Chief.’
‘Your instincts are spot on and you’re persistent to a fault in chasing down any leads. You’re also reckless, irresponsible and you end up in trouble more times than any other Sentinel.’
John grinned.
‘On balance, though, you’re too valuable to us to have something unexpected happen to you. Which is why I’m reassigning Fernali to a new recruit and giving you a new partner.’
‘Chief, with all due respect, Fernali and I are a highly effective team.’
‘I know, Tesh. You’re two of my best. I need Fernali to take Streeter under his wing. The kid’s good but he’s young and he makes mistakes. With the right guidance he’ll make a fine Sentinel.’
‘What about me?’
The Chief stood up and motioned towards the door.
‘Let’s go and meet your new partner.’
John followed the Chief down the narrow grey corridor. They reached the waiting turbo-lifts. The Chief got in. John followed. The Chief pressed the button for level eight. The doors slid shut and the turbo-lift descended rapidly. The doors opened a few seconds later. John followed the Chief down another grey corridor, towards the simulation rooms. They entered VR Room 1. There were no windows inside the large room and the walls, floor and ceiling were covered in holoprojectors. A young man of about thirty, with short-cropped brown hair and a modest build, stood waiting inside.
‘John Tesh, I’d like you to meet Socrates. Your new partner.’
John extended his hand. After the slightest hesitation, Socrates reached out and shook it. John winced slightly.
‘Quite a grip you have there, Socrates,’ he said.
‘My apologies, John. It is difficult for me to judge my own strength at times.’
‘So, are you ex-police or ex-military?’
‘Socrates is a rather unique recruit,’ the Chief said.
‘Unique? Chief, please tell me he’s not some pencil pusher sent here to check up on us by the Ruling Council.’
The Chief laughed. Socrates said nothing.
‘No, John. Certainly nothing like that.’
‘Okay. Has he passed the simulation?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Score?’
‘One hundred.’
‘What? No one gets a perfect score. That’s impossible!’
‘Well, Socrates here did,’ the Chief said. ‘Do you want to see him in action?’
‘Yes. This I have to see.’
‘Very well. Socrates, if you don’t mind?’
‘Certainly. Please activate the simulation.’
The Chief initiated the VR training program. Taking a training weapon out of its chamber, he handed it to Socrates.
A synthetic voice filled the room.
‘Simulation beginning in three … two … one. Simulation in progress. Random scenario number 176.’
Two
The holographic projectors sprang to life and flooded the empty room with a dense field of photons. A streetscape materialised around them, each detail meticulously recreated. Socrates stood in the centre, weapon held casually at his side. His eyes stared straight ahead. He didn’t blink. He simply watched as the scene unfolded around him.
Virtual people and vehicles emulated a busy streetscape. The sounds of traffic and people echoed all around them. A siren sounded in the distance. A baby cried.
‘Look out!’ a voice cried out.
A vehicle seemingly lost control and mounted the kerb, crashing through a street vendor’s stall. Socrates smoothly jumped to the side and rolled to a standing position. The vehicle crashed through the front window of a Central Bank of Iona branch and came to a stop inside. Four armed men leapt out.
‘Nobody move! Down on the ground, down on the ground!’ the lead gunman, his face covere
d by a latex mask, shouted.
The customers inside the bank obediently dropped to the ground as the terrified bank employees stood frozen. The scene was so realistic that John had half reached for his own rapid-fire handgun before his mind reminded him it was just a simulation.
Socrates quickly checked his surroundings. Motioning the people on the street to stay back, he quickly sent an emergency message to Sentinel HQ. He then entered the bank, walking across the floor of the VR training room while the projectors recreated the entrance to the bank around him. One of the gunmen turned. He aimed his weapon directly at him.
‘Stay back!’ the gunman shouted.
Socrates moved. Fast. He stepped forwards and pushed the gunman’s weapon upwards. In the same motion he slammed his elbow into the virtual construct’s throat. The gunman dropped to the ground. Before the other three realised what had happened, Socrates had reached the next two. He overpowered them with the same ease. The speed with which he moved caused the holoprojectors to flicker as they attempted to refresh the projection. Only one gunman remained. He cast around, his latex mask shimmering in the artificial light of the banking chamber. In a desperate motion he grabbed a customer off the floor. The man protested and pleaded but the gunman wrapped his arm around the man’s neck. He held his weapon in his other hand, aimed squarely at the customer’s head.
‘Let me out and nobody gets hurt,’ the gunman said.
Socrates didn’t even hesitate. He raised the weapon in his hand to a firing position and fired once. It was so quick, so fluid, that John only realised what had happened once the echoes of the shot faded away and the gunman fell backwards.
Socrates scanned the inside of the bank. His eyes came to rest on one of the bank employees. Socrates shifted his aim to the young woman standing beside her office. Her name tag read: Alicia Kaden, Assistant Branch Manager.
‘Alicia Kaden, you are under arrest for attempted robbery,’ Socrates said.
The scene shimmered and vanished. Socrates reversed his grip on the training weapon and returned it to the Chief, who stowed it in the arms chamber.
‘Well, John?’ the Chief asked.
‘That’s incredible!’ John exclaimed. ‘How did you do that?’
‘Socrates is incredibly gifted physically.’
‘That’s the understatement of the century,’ John said. He eyed his new partner suspiciously. Socrates returned his gaze without blinking.
‘How did you know the bank employee was working with the robbers?’ John asked, suddenly.
‘She was the only person that didn’t look at the vehicle when it burst through the glass window. Everyone else turned to look. She did not.’
John considered that for a moment. Frowning, he shook his head in disbelief.
‘Alright, I’m sold. Welcome to the Sentinels.’
‘Thank you, John.’
‘Okay, enough of this. You two are starting to sound like an old married couple. I need you two to head out to the airport and assist with a police investigation into a mysterious light plane. With the UN Security Council meeting in two days’ time in Iona, the Ruling Council is taking no chances. Socrates, you are hereby officially instated to the Sentinels, effective immediately,’ the Chief said, motioning them out of the simulation room. ‘Try to keep John out of trouble.’
‘I will endeavour to do my best in that regard,’ Socrates said with a perfectly straight face.
‘Good. Now get going. The Ruling Council has requested our involvement in this case. Don’t mess this up.’
Before John could say anything, Socrates moved past him towards the turbo-lifts.
‘Are you coming, John?’ he asked.
John was about to follow him, when the Chief held him back.
‘Tesh, there’s something you need to know.’
‘What is it, Chief?’
‘On second thought—never mind. Let’s see how good you really are.’
‘Okay, I guess. I’ll check in with an update later.’
John caught up with Socrates. They entered the turbo-lift together. Descending to the basement, they got into one of the unmarked Sentinel cruisers. John drove the powerful vehicle out of the basement garage and onto Elizabeth Street. Activating his phone, he called Fernali. His former partner answered on the second ring.
‘You coming back?’ Fernali asked.
‘Change of plans. Seems you and I have been assigned to new partners.’
‘Say what now?’
‘I know. Anyway, get back to Sentinel HQ. The Chief wants you to show Streeter the ropes.’
‘Streeter? Could be worse, I guess. Who did you get?’
John cast a guarded glance at his new partner. Socrates sat motionless, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
‘New recruit named Socrates.’
‘Any good?’
‘Yes, actually. Damn good. If he performs anywhere near as well in real life as he did in the sims, my life should be a lot easier.’
Fernali laughed.
‘The end of an era then. Celebrate tonight?’
‘Lauren will probably kill me but sure. The usual place?’
‘I’ll see you there around seven.’
The phone clicked off.
‘So, where are you from?’ John asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Socrates replied.
‘You don’t know?’
‘No. I have no memory of anything before three days ago.’
John half turned to look at Socrates.
‘You’re telling me that you don’t remember anything before three days ago and you just decided to turn up at Sentinel HQ looking for a job?’
‘Yes.’
‘And the Chief hired you for the most elite crime-fighting unit this city has ever seen?’
‘Yes.’
‘And he just happened to make you my partner?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay. So what am I missing?’
‘I don’t know, John. There could be any number of things that you are missing but until I ascertain your particular circumstances and requirements, it would be impossible for me to hypothesise about what those things could be.’
‘Right. Thanks.’
John turned his attention back to the road ahead. His mind was racing with the implications of what Socrates had just told him even as he wondered what the Chief had neglected to tell him. Every instinct he had was telling him one thing: something was very wrong.
Three
Originally constructed in 1920, Mascot Aerodrome, later renamed Kingsford Smith Airport in honour of the iconic aviator, was expanded and modernised over a century into a domestic and international transport hub. The airport was privatised in the beginning of the twenty-first century. Following the annexation of the city of Sydney by the Iona Corporation in 2039, the airport was renamed simply the Iona Airport. There was no longer a domestic terminal. All flights in and out of the sovereign city-state were now international.
The Sentinel cruiser pulled up outside the vehicular entry to the tarmac at the Iona Airport at Mascot. A security guard held his hand up for them to stop. John pressed a button and his side window lowered, reflecting the morning sun back at the security booth.
‘This is a restricted area, sir,’ the security guard said in a brusque tone.
‘John Tesh, Sentinel. ID Alpha-101.’
‘Sentinel?’ the guard asked, less sure of himself. ‘I wasn’t told you were coming.’
‘And yet here we are. You going to let us in?’
‘Yes, sir. Of course.’
The security guard stepped back into his booth and activated the gate control. The wire mesh gate slowly opened. John and Socrates drove through.
‘Any idea where exactly we’re supposed to go?’ John asked.
‘Judging by the police vehicles near that hangar, I would surmise that is our logical destination,’ Socrates said.
‘Right. That makes sense.’
John steered the Sentinel cruiser along the road
marked out on the tarmac. They reached the hangar in question ninety seconds later. Two police cars and one unmarked police cruiser were parked near the entrance. The quadruple height doors were partially opened. A small plane, a Flux-Cell-powered Cessna light aircraft, was inside. Uniformed police officers were swarming around it, while a detective in a long brown coat was interviewing a maintenance worker.
John and Socrates exited their vehicle. John adjusted his tie. He motioned to Socrates. They walked inside the hangar. The detective looked up. Seeing them, he finished his conversation with the maintenance worker and moved to intercept them.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he asked.
‘Investigating,’ John said, without slowing down. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Hey! You can’t be in here. This is a crime scene.’
‘I know. That’s why we’re here.’
‘Let me guess—Sentinels, right?’
‘Very perceptive, Detective … ?’
‘Detective Jastrzebski. And you are … ?’
‘John Tesh and this is my partner, Socrates. What are we looking at here?’
Jastrzebski fell into step beside them as John and Socrates continued walking towards the aircraft.
‘Let me make something very clear. This is my investigation,’ Jastrzebski said.
‘Of course it is, Detective. Until we find something of interest, at which point it becomes a Sentinel investigation.’
They reached the plane. A uniformed officer stood near the steps.
‘What have you got?’ John asked.
The officer cast a questioning glance at Jastrzebski who nodded, reluctantly.
‘Unregistered aircraft without a flight plan. It landed last night. No passenger manifest, no cargo log. As far as we can tell—it simply doesn’t exist.’
‘And yet here it is. Interesting. Anything inside?’
‘We haven’t searched it yet. We were waiting for a forensics team.’
‘Good thinking. Someone who was this careful and effectively made an aircraft disappear will almost certainly have left behind a useable set of prints.’
