by Thomas Fay
‘Sir, I—’
‘Relax. I was joking. Let’s take a look inside.’
‘Wait a second, you can’t do that,’ Jastrzebski said.
John paused, his foot on the first airstair.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t do what exactly?’
‘Go inside that plane until a forensics team has examined it thoroughly.’
‘Detective, perhaps I wasn’t clear before. My partner and I are Sentinels.’
Jastrzebski’s eyes narrowed.
‘And …?’
‘And that means that only the Ruling Council can prevent us from entering this plane if we have reasonable grounds to believe it was involved in the commissioning of a crime. Which given the mysterious circumstances surrounding its arrival into Iona, we do.’
Jastrzebski stared at him for ten seconds. Then, reluctantly, he nodded. John and Socrates climbed up the airstairs into the small two-seater aircraft. Ducking his head, John looked around. The cabin was perfectly clean, no sign that anyone had used it. The aircraft appeared brand new. He scanned the inside looking for anything unusual. A pair of deep scuff marks in the carpeted floor caught his attention.
‘What do you make of that?’ he asked.
‘It appears that someone dragged a heavy object out of here,’ Socrates replied.
‘The question is what, and where was it stored.’
John checked the storage locker at the back of the cabin. Empty. He knelt and peered under the seats. Straightening up, he said, ‘Help me push this seat forwards.’
Together they moved the pilot’s seat as far forwards as it would go. The deep scuff marks terminated underneath the seat. John felt the carpeted floor with his hand.
‘Hidden latch,’ he said. Straining against it, he let go after a moment.
‘Allow me, John,’ Socrates said.
John stepped aside as his partner knelt behind the seat. Grasping the latch, he pushed down on it first and then pulled up. A concealed hatch opened with the sound of grinding metal, revealing an underfloor storage locker.
‘You really are rather strong. Remind me not to—’
John’s words died on his lips as he saw what lay inside the storage locker: an empty case with military markings on it. A single sentence in yellow stood out: Surface to Air Projectile.
‘I think this just became a Sentinel investigation,’ John said.
Four
John pulled out his phone. Hitting the speed dial button for Sentinel HQ, he waited for one ring until the operator picked up the call.
‘Identify yourself.’
‘John Tesh, ID Alpha-101.’
‘Acknowledged. Go ahead, Tesh.’
‘I need a scene processing team at the airport, hangar … ’ Tesh looked around, locating the number. ‘Hangar two. We have a situation. I’ll explain once they’re here.’
‘Understood. I’m dispatching two cars to your location. You need anything else?’
‘Tell the Chief we’re at the airport and I’ll call him with an update once I know more.’
‘Will do. HQ out.’
John closed his phone and put it back in his pocket. Walking down the aircraft stairs he found himself face to face with Detective Jastrzebski.
‘What did you find in there?’ Jastrzebski asked.
‘Something that makes this a Sentinel investigation. Your people are not to go inside the aircraft. Secure the hangar. Another Sentinel team is on its way.’
‘What? You’ve got to be joking. What gives you the authority?’
John pulled out his Sentinel badge. The concentric rings around the silver shield with a single eye on it shone brightly as they caught the sun filtering through the oversized doors to the hangar. Detective Jastrzebski stared at the badge, inches from his face.
‘The Sentinel Crime Prevention Act of 2041 gives me the authority,’ John replied. ‘Are we going to have a problem here, Detective?’
Several of the uniformed police officers had stopped what they were doing. They watched the exchange closely. John felt their eyes on him. He knew what they were thinking, how much they would resent the overarching authority of the Sentinels. He knew that feeling well. He had been one of them, not that long ago.
He took a deep breath and said, ‘Look. You don’t have to like it but, trust me, we know what we’re doing and, believe me, you don’t want this on your plate. Think of it as me doing you a favour by taking this on.’
Detective Jastrzebski stared at him for a full sixty seconds. Releasing an explosive breath, he nodded slowly.
‘Alright, fine. We’ll secure the hangar and wait for your team to get here but you’re right—I don’t like it.’
Jastrzebski walked away, issuing orders to the uniformed officers. They moved away from the plane and fanned out throughout the hangar, herding maintenance personnel to one side, checking doors were locked and establishing a perimeter. John turned to his partner.
‘What do you think?’ he asked.
‘About what, John?’ Socrates asked.
‘The plane and what it was carrying.’
Socrates looked at the light plane for a moment before replying.
‘I believe whoever piloted the aircraft was working with someone here in Iona. Clearly, their objective had been to deliver that weapon undetected.’
John nodded.
‘I agree. I’m surprised they managed to land the plane without anyone realising. Iona is not the easiest city to enter and exit without being detected. The Ruling Council employs considerable surveillance measures and the skies above are heavily patrolled.’
‘We should check the surveillance footage from the airport.’
‘I doubt we’ll find anything. If they managed to land undetected, then the footage will either have been looped or scrambled. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing. Which has me worried.’
‘Why is that, John?’
‘Because if they were that good, why did they leave behind that case?’
‘Perhaps they didn’t want to draw attention to the weapon by transporting it in a marked military container.’
John nodded.
‘True, but they still could have disposed of it. No, I think there was another reason they left it behind.’
‘Which was … ?’
‘So that we would find it.’
‘But then that would assume they wanted us to know what they had brought with them.’
‘Exactly. And that’s the part that worries me. Come on, I want to speak to whoever found the plane.’
Socrates followed him to where the police were interviewing the airport personnel. One of the uniformed officers looked up.
‘What can I do for you?’ the young officer asked.
‘Who found the plane?’
The officer checked her handheld computer and pointed to a man wearing dark-blue coveralls. The Iona Airport logo was stitched into the material above his right breast pocket. John approached the man.
‘You’re the one who found the plane?’ he asked.
The man nodded.
‘Was there anyone else here?’
‘Nah, mate. The hangar was empty.’
‘Except for this plane?’
‘Yep, that’s right.’
‘Have you seen this plane before?’
‘Nope. Don’t recognise it.’
‘Anyone else seen it before?’ John addressed the others. His response was a series of head shakes.
‘Anything else you can tell me—was there anything unusual when you found the plane?’
‘Nope. Everything looked normal.’
‘Alright, thanks. If you think of anything else, let the police know.’
The man nodded.
John turned and walked back towards the aircraft. He paused mid-step.
‘What is it, John?’ Socrates asked.
‘How much noise do you think those hangar doors make when they’re opening?’
Socrates looked at the twelve-metre high d
oors.
‘I don’t know, John.’
‘Quite a bit I’d say. Enough for someone to notice. I find it hard to believe—’
They were interrupted by the arrival of a pair of Sentinel cruisers screeching to a halt outside the hangar. The doors were thrown open and four dark-grey suited Sentinels stepped out. John recognised Marcus Dean and his partner Chiara Nostrum, as well as Anna Sorensen and her partner Harry Tan.
‘Time to go to work,’ he said as he motioned to the Sentinels to join them.
Five
The presence of six grey-suited Sentinels inside the hangar was a sight not many people got to see. Sorensen was a skilled forensic analyst and also had a military background, making her the ideal choice for analysing the empty weapon case. She spent less than a minute inside the plane. Walking down the stairs, she approached John.
‘What do you think?’ John asked, his voice low.
‘Definitely army issue, surface-to-air missile. Judging by the make of the case, I’d say US manufactured but used by the Israeli military,’ Sorensen replied, her accent betraying her Danish heritage.
‘How dangerous is it?’
Sorensen took a deep breath. Expelling it slowly, she said, ‘The range is relatively limited but that wouldn’t be an issue against low-altitude aircraft. Packs enough punch to take out pretty much anything in the air.’
‘Even a Ruling Council transport ship?’
‘I don’t know about that.’
John nodded, deep in thought.
‘How do you want to play this?’ Sorensen asked.
‘Check that plane from top to bottom; take it apart if you have to.’
‘Will do. If there’s anything there, we’ll find it.’
‘I know you will,’ John said. ‘Make sure someone takes a full statement from each of the ground crew as well. When you’re done here, get that case back to HQ and tell me exactly what we’re up against.’
Sorensen nodded and walked back towards the plane. She gestured to Tan to join her, while Dean and Nostrum moved around the outside of the aircraft.
John motioned to Socrates.
‘What is our next course of action, John?’
‘We go and learn how to perform a magic trick.’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand.’
John gestured towards the plane with his hand.
‘Somebody made that disappear.’
‘If by disappear, you mean there is no official record of it ever landing here, then yes.’
‘Which means there was at least one person on the ground working with the pilot. In order to land the plane here, without any official record, that person would have to be in the control tower.’
‘Your logic is sound, John. How do we find them?’
‘We find out who was on duty last night.’
‘And then … ?’
‘Then we go and pay them a visit.’
They turned and began to walk towards the entrance to hangar two. Just as they reached the doors, Detective Jastrzebski called out.
‘Be seeing you, Tesh.’
‘Not if I see you first,’ John muttered under his breath as he lifted his hand in a mock salute to the detective. They reached their parked Sentinel cruiser. Getting in, John fired up the ignition. The Flux-Cell-powered car hummed to life and he drove away from the hangar.
‘There is something I am unclear on,’ Socrates said.
‘What’s that?’
‘The Sentinels are the highest form of authority within Iona. They report directly to the Ruling Council and all other agencies are required to render them any and all assistance, as may be required.’
‘That’s what it says in the Act.’
‘Then why was that detective being uncooperative? I judged his responses to be hostile towards us.’
John laughed.
‘What is so amusing?’ Socrates asked.
‘You really are new at this, aren’t you?’
‘As I stipulated earlier, my memories do not extend beyond two days ago.’
John’s humour evaporated as he was reminded of that fact. It was something he would have to get to the bottom of.
‘Look. Just because they pass a law that says that police need to assist Sentinels, doesn’t mean they won’t feel like it’s unfair,’ John said.
‘So they will not co-operate?’
‘No, they’ll co-operate. Just don’t expect them to smile or be helpful.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You will.’
The car drove over a speed bump, causing it to rise into the air for a split second. John checked his bearings. The control tower was visible above the airport, on the other side of the runway. A slow smile spread across his face as he reached for his phone and hit redial.
‘Identify your—’
‘It’s Tesh again. ID Alpha-101.’
‘Twice in an hour. Someone’s busy today.’
‘You have no idea.’
‘What do you need?’
‘Clearance from air traffic control to cross the runways and approach the tower.’
‘Give me a moment.’
Silence. Then.
‘Alright, you’ve got three minutes to get across. Better make it quick.’
‘Acknowledged. Tesh out.’
John put his foot down on the accelerator. The powerful Sentinel cruiser surged forwards, accelerating easily up to one hundred kilometres per hour as it pulled onto the runway. Racing across the smooth concrete surface, John turned onto a taxiing apron. Several Airbus passenger jets, Flux-Cell-retrofitted models, were lined up awaiting clearance to take off on either side of them. John accelerated further. Pulling sharply off the runway, the car tyres screeched as he applied the brakes. Ten seconds later they pulled up next to the air traffic control tower. Opening the doors, John and Socrates stepped out.
‘I’ll take the lead but feel free to jump in at any time,’ John said.
‘Understood,’ Socrates said. Then: ‘John?’
‘Yes?’
‘I do not understand why you chose to drive across the runways rather than go around the airport to gain access to the control tower. There appears to be no logical reason for it. In fact, it would have alerted the potential suspect to our approach.’
John grinned.
‘It was fun though, wasn’t it?’
Socrates stared at him blankly.
‘Nevermind. Let’s go,’ John said.
They walked up to the main entrance. A security guard stopped them. John flashed his ID badge and they were ascending in the elevator a few seconds later. The doors slid open at the top and they stepped out. The entire airport was visible through the large panoramic viewing panels inside the control tower. The sound of a man arguing with someone over the phone resounded throughout the inside of the tower.
‘If you don’t let me restart air traffic in the next sixty seconds I’m going to—’
The man stopped as he caught sight of John and Socrates.
‘Never mind. They’re here.’
Slamming the phone down, he advanced on John. It took all of John’s self-control to keep the smile off his face.
‘Mind telling me what this is all about?’ the man demanded.
John stared at him for a full sixty seconds before replying. It was an old trick he had learned during his time with the police. It worked amazingly well in these kinds of situations—at least, it did if you weren’t clued in yourself.
‘John Tesh, Sentinel. This is my partner, Socrates. Are you in charge here?’
The mention of the word Sentinel made the man flinch involuntarily. His anger seemed to evaporate as he looked around the room.
‘I … yes, I’m the duty chief.’
‘Come with us, please. This shouldn’t take long. I assume someone can cover for you?’
The man nodded. Turning around, he motioned to one of his colleagues.
‘Tess, take over. Get the backlog into the air and check th
at report of turbulence above Newcastle.’
The woman named Tess nodded as she took over. The sound of instructions being issued to waiting aircraft filled the control room, as John led the way into a break room. Closing the door behind them, he motioned for the air traffic controller to take a seat. He sat opposite him while Socrates remained standing.
‘Let’s start with your name,’ John said. The plastic chair protested as he leaned back.
‘Dan Wilkes.’
‘And you were on duty last night?’
Dan shook his head.
‘No, I handle the morning shift. Greg takes over for the night shift.’
‘Greg?’
‘Greg Rawson.’
‘And you’re positive he was on duty last night?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you monitor all of the air traffic that arrives and departs from Iona Airport?’
‘Yes.’
‘So there’s no way an aircraft could land without you knowing about it?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘You’re certain of that?’
Dan nodded.
‘Even if we’re not physically watching an aircraft land we have constant radar contact and tracking of all aircraft that enter Iona airspace. It would be impossible for an aircraft to land without us knowing about it. Why? What is this about, anyway?’
John leaned forwards and stared into Dan’s eyes.
‘Last night someone managed the impossible.’
Six
The Sentinel cruiser sprang to life and drove away from the control tower. Pulling out onto General Holmes Drive, John pushed the powerful vehicle up to eighty kilometres per hour as they travelled back towards the CBD. Traffic was relatively light, which was not surprising, given it was early afternoon. Most people would be either at work or at home. Peak hour was still several hours away.
‘What is our next course of action?’ Socrates asked.
‘We need to speak to Greg Rawson, the traffic controller who was in charge last night when that light plane landed. He must know something.’
‘What about the weapon’s case?’
‘Sorensen will know where it came from and what exactly was in it by the end of the day. Once we know what we’re up against, we can work backwards and identify possible targets.’
