Socrates and the Councillor

by Thomas Fay

  ‘An aerial target appears the most likely.’

  ‘Which still leaves a lot of possibilities: civilian or military aircraft, even potentially Ruling Council vehicles. Or even … ’

  ‘What is it, John?’

  ‘Whoever is behind that light plane is skilled at evading surveillance. Nostrum confirmed the footage from all the cameras in and around hangar two was erased. Worse than erased—she said it was as if the footage had never been recorded, that someone had completely subverted the cameras.’

  ‘What about the UAV’s?’

  John shook his head.

  ‘We don’t have access to those. Only the Ruling Council does and I doubt they would confirm or deny if they were tampered with. Along with whatever else they have up there watching us.’

  ‘I agree with your logic, John.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘That whoever is behind the light plane is skilled at evading surveillance.’

  ‘Right, thanks. Which means the weapon could be intended to help them access a secure facility.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘What does Iona have more of than any other city on the planet? What makes it particularly hard to evade detection?’

  ‘Drones.’

  ‘Exactly. The Ruling Council employs low-altitude UAVs to form an effective surveillance net over the city. It’s not impossible to avoid them but it’s time consuming and complicated. Taking one out would be a much simpler option.’

  ‘Your logic is plausible. That would imply that we are looking for a strategically important target that is covered by drone surveillance.’

  ‘Which doesn’t help us a lot. All Ruling Council facilities are patrolled, as are most key sites in the city. It also doesn’t explain why they left that weapon’s case behind. This is going to be—’

  John’s phone rang, the sound reverberating throughout the enclosed cabin of the Sentinel cruiser. John checked the caller ID: Michael Fernali. He hit the button to answer.

  ‘It’s Tesh. Go ahead.’

  ‘Where are you?’ Fernali’s voice asked.

  ‘Driving to the north from the airport. What do you need?’

  ‘Streeter and I’ve been digging deeper into the Mavis case. John, those payments, the ones that were flagged by the Central Bank of Iona … ’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘It looks like they’re a lot larger than we first thought. They’re also going to what appear to be fronts. Dummy corporations with PO Box addresses, no employees, no assets.’

  ‘Sounds like someone was moving a lot of money into Iona.’

  ‘I’m almost positive they were.’

  ‘Any idea what it was for?’

  ‘No. The trail ends in the dummy corporations. Even the CBI can’t track the funds beyond them. Whoever we’re dealing with, their cybersecurity is advanced.’

  ‘Alright, keep digging. Get some of our finance specialists on it, maybe they can figure out where the funds went.’

  ‘Will do. We still on for later?’

  ‘Definitely. Although I really should call Lauren and let her know.’

  ‘Good luck with that.’

  The call ended. John hesitated for a moment, just as they entered the Eastern Distributor tunnel. As the lights of the tunnel flashed by, John reached for his phone. Finding the number he was after, he hit dial. The phone rang several times before diverting to voice mail.

  ‘You’ve reached the voice mail of Lauren Tesh. I’m sorry I’m unable to take your call but if you leave your details, I’ll contact you as soon as possible.’

  John smiled. Even on a recorded voice-mail message Lauren sounded good. He could picture her lips moving as she recorded the message. The message tone brought him back to the present.

  ‘Lauren, it’s me. I’m going to meet Fernali for a drink after work. I shouldn’t be too late. Anyway, give me a call when you can.’

  John hung up. His mind was still racing with the implications of what Fernali had just told him. Large sums of money moving around, clearly for illicit purposes. Like paying off air traffic controllers to allow a dangerous weapon to be delivered to Iona. Even though there was no proof, his instincts were telling him the two cases were connected.

  ‘John? Are you alright?’ Socrates asked.

  ‘Yes. Just going over a few things.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do to assist?’

  John cast a guarded glance at his new partner. On top of everything else, there was the mystery that was Socrates for him to unravel. It would have to wait. There were more pressing matters to attend to.

  ‘I’ll let you know.’

  Seven

  The apartment block was located on a quiet street in the Lower North Shore suburb of Balmoral. The beach was visible through clumps of old trees. The sidewalk was well maintained and the houses and apartment blocks equally so. The Sentinel cruiser pulled to a stop across the road from the apartment block. Switching the engine off, John looked at the building for a moment in silence.

  ‘Are you alright, John?’ Socrates asked.

  ‘Huh? Yes, fine. Let’s go.’

  They exited the cruiser and walked across the road. Entering the lobby of the older style Art Deco building, they climbed a flight of stairs to the first floor. Locating apartment number four, John knocked on the door. Silence. He knocked again. This time the sound of the lock opening could be heard as the door swung open.

  ‘Yes, can I help you?’ asked a middle-aged man whose dark hair was tinged with grey. He was dressed in a pair of dark pants and a white short-sleeved shirt.

  ‘Greg Rawson?’ John asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘John Tesh, Sentinel. This is my partner, Socrates. May we come in?’

  ‘Sentinels? What is this about?’

  ‘Mr Rawson, it would be best if we discussed this inside.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Come in.’

  John and Socrates stepped inside the apartment. The interior had been renovated, with bleached floorboards, Scandinavian designed furniture and original restored ceilings. The water of the bay was visible through a large window in the living room. The entire apartment looked expensive; not surprising, given Greg’s position as a senior air traffic controller.

  ‘May I offer you something to drink?’ Greg asked as he and John sat down on the oddly shaped but comfortable chairs. Socrates remained standing.

  ‘No, thanks,’ John said. ‘We need to ask you some questions, Mr Rawson.’

  ‘Yes, certainly; whatever I can do to help.’

  ‘You were on duty last night at the airport?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What time did you start your shift?’

  ‘Three. I finished up just after curfew at midnight.’

  ‘So you were in charge of all air traffic movement to and from the airport last night?’

  ‘Yes, that’s correct. Did something happen?’

  Greg looked worried as he kept glancing from John to Socrates and through the window towards the water. John leaned forwards.

  ‘A light plane landed at the Iona Airport last night.’

  ‘That’s nothing unusual, we get quite a few light aircraft every day.’

  ‘There was no record of this aircraft. No one saw it arrive. Not even the ground crew. For all intents and purposes, it never landed.’

  Greg looked genuinely worried now.

  ‘Are you certain? Perhaps it was supposed to have taken off but never did and someone forgot to file an updated flight plan?’

  John shook his head.

  ‘No. It landed last night. There’s no record of it.’

  John stared straight at Greg.

  ‘And you were in charge of all aircraft movement to and from the airport last night. So Greg, I’m asking you now—do you know anything about that aircraft?’

  Greg’s hands began to shake. He cast around the room.

  ‘Greg? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Please. You don’t understand
, he threatened me and my family. I had to do it. I had no choice!’

  ‘Greg, it’s alright. Tell us what happened and we can help you.’

  Greg buried his head in his hands and rocked back and forth in the chair. Finally, he looked up. Taking a few deep breaths, he began to talk.

  ‘I don’t know who he was but one day when I left work late at night and got into my car, he was sitting on the back seat. He told me he knew everything about me, about my family: my ex-wife, my children. Where they lived, where they worked. He told me he had people watching them.’

  ‘Did you get a look at this man?’ John asked.

  Greg shook his head.

  ‘He was careful. I only met him that one time and I never saw his face.’

  ‘What happened with the plane?’

  ‘I received a phone call yesterday. I recognised the man’s voice instantly. He told me I had to allow a light plane to land at the airport and erase all record of it. He told me if I did this, he would leave my family alone. I’m sorry, I had no choice.’

  John nodded, deep in thought.

  ‘You did the only thing you could, although I suspect your employer may not see it that way. Or the Civil Aviation Safety Authority, for that matter but that’s for them to deal with. I’m going to send one of our techs over here to check your phone and apartment for any surveillance equipment. We might just get lucky and track this mysterious man down. I’ll also get a protection detail assigned to your family.’

  Greg nodded but didn’t say anything. John stood up. Motioning to Socrates, they left the room.

  Opening the front door, John said, ‘Mr Rawson, if you can think of anything else relating to this matter, please contact the Sentinels.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Thank you.’

  John and Socrates exited the apartment. The moment the door closed behind them, Socrates held up his hand. John froze.

  ‘What is it?’ he whispered.

  Socrates stared at John for ten seconds before replying, his eyes momentarily unfocused.

  ‘The man we just spoke to in that apartment … ’

  ‘What about him?’ John asked.

  ‘That man was not Greg Rawson.’

  Eight

  The door to Greg Rawson’s apartment burst open as John and Socrates stepped through. John moved into the living room, handgun held at the ready. Empty. He followed Socrates down the corridor, checking each bedroom. Finally, they reached the rear sunroom. The door was ajar, the sloping site meant the sunroom gave straight onto the garden at the back of the building.

  ‘Damn, he’s gone,’ John exclaimed, lowering his weapon.

  ‘He must be close. I estimate he could not have had more than a minute’s head start on us, assuming he left the premises the moment we stepped outside.’

  ‘You’re right. Head back down the stairs and get the car. I’ll see where this leads.’

  Socrates moved back through the apartment. Fast. John was momentarily surprised at how agile his new partner was. Another mystery that would have to be solved. But not now. Right now, he had to focus. Whoever the man they had encountered in the apartment was, he was clearly skilled at deception. Despite his years as a senior police detective, John had been completely fooled. Raising his weapon, he stepped through the rear door.

  He found himself in an overgrown garden. A double-height brick wall separated the apartment block from the neighbouring property. A rickety old gate swung slowly on its hinges. John lowered his weapon and grasped the gate. It protested loudly when he pulled it open. He found himself in a narrow laneway between the apartment buildings. There was no sign of the man pretending to be Greg Rawson. John sheathed his weapon and looked around. Spotting the outline of fresh footsteps in the gravel, he took a chance. He set off up the hill at a run. The gravel of the path crunched beneath his feet as his eyes darted from side to side, watchful for any movement. Finally, he reached the point where the path spilled out onto the street. Slowing down, he took a deep breath.

  The punch caught him completely by surprise. Staggering backwards, he reached for his weapon. But the man was faster. He pinned John’s arms to his chest, pushing him back into the confined laneway. John relaxed his arms. Then with a burst of strength, he pushed upwards. Freeing himself momentarily, he turned his body and charged the man with his shoulder. They tumbled out onto the street. John’s handgun rattled to the ground as he struggled to gain the upper hand. John was younger. He was highly trained. Yet somehow the other man slowly overpowered him with precise movements. John realised he was losing.

  ‘Who are you?’ he demanded.

  The man smiled as he pinned John’s right arm in a painful grip. Twisting, he brought him to the ground, pushing his knee into John’s back. John stared at the road as he struggled to breathe. He felt himself losing consciousness as his vision darkened.

  The sound of screeching tyres filled the air just as John thought his lungs would burst. The vice-like grip around his right arm disappeared as he found himself suddenly lying on the ground. A moment later Socrates appeared above him.

  ‘Are you alright, John?’ he asked.

  Coughing, John sat up. Rubbing his arm, he looked around. The man who had, moments ago, overpowered him so effortlessly was lying on the ground next to their Sentinel cruiser. He wasn’t moving.

  ‘Is he … ?’

  ‘Unconscious. I felt it best to incapacitate him as it appeared he was about to cause you serious injury.’

  ‘Right, thanks. I guess the Chief may have been right when he assigned you as my new partner. If you ever tell him that, I’ll deny it, of course.’

  Socrates looked at him but said nothing. John walked over to where the fake Greg Rawson lay. Reaching down, he checked his pockets. Nothing. No wallet. No ID.

  ‘Who are you?’ John whispered.

  Not surprisingly, the unconscious man declined to answer.

  Turning to his new partner, John said, ‘Come on. Let’s get him back to HQ and see if we can get some answers out of him.’

  Nine

  They were seated in Interview Room 2. Sentinel HQ was a veritable fortress of high tech security and surveillance masquerading as an office building. The interview rooms were filled with all manner of high-resolution recording equipment paired to behavioural analysis algorithms. They were designed to capture everything that went on during an interrogation. Even the most minute gesture could be analysed and provide a vital clue to solving a serious crime. Right now, every single piece of equipment in the room was switched on.

  ‘Let’s start with your name,’ John said. He was seated on one side of the interview room. The man sat across from him, behind a metallic desk. His arms were held in place by bulky restraints, made of a tough resin.

  ‘You may call me Greg,’ the man replied.

  ‘We both know you’re not Greg Rawson. What did you do with him?’

  ‘You’re wasting your time, Sentinel. I estimate you have less than five minutes.’

  John leaned forwards.

  ‘And what happens in five minutes?’

  ‘That door behind you will open and either your Chief or someone from the Ruling Council will enter. They’ll order you to release me immediately.’

  ‘Tell me, what’s it like where you live? It must be nice to inhabit that sort of a fantasy world.’

  ‘Suit yourself. Four minutes and thirty seconds.’

  ‘Alright, tell me this then. Why the charade? What was the point of pretending to be Greg Rawson?’

  ‘I wanted to see the famous Sentinels up close. Outside Iona you’ve developed a reputation for being an elite crime-fighting unit. Multi-disciplinary officers from all around the world recruited from law enforcement, military and private sector security. I must say, I am rather disappointed.’

  ‘We aim to displease. So, here’s what we know—a light plane lands in Iona. No record of it ever having arrived. Inside is a weapons case. Surface-to-air projectile, military grade. All of that led us to you. So yo
u can forget about going anywhere until you tell me where that weapon is and what your intended target was and what you’ve done with the real Greg Rawson.’

  The man smiled.

  ‘Maybe I misjudged you. Maybe not. We’ll see. You now have about three minutes. I suggest you stop wasting time.’

  John leaned back. Whoever this man was, he was highly trained and skilled at close quarters combat. He also seemed extremely confident that someone would come and release him. That worried John. Once someone was in Sentinel custody, they weren’t supposed to walk out until they were cleared of any criminal activity. John smiled. That was it.

  ‘You realise when you assaulted a Sentinel you committed a serious crime? Under the Sentinel Crime Prevention Act you’re up for at least ten years in jail.’

  ‘I would be, if you could prove it. Two minutes thirty seconds.’

  ‘Not only that but you provided false information and obstructed a Sentinel investigation … ’

  ‘Two minutes.’

  ‘ … and then resisted arrest. I’d say you’ll be lucky to see daylight again.’

  ‘One minute thirty seconds.’

  ‘The Sentinels are charged with protecting Iona and its citizens. And we’re damn good at what we do. Last chance.’

  The man’s smile widened.

  ‘Time’s up.’

  ‘Honestly, what exactly did you expect would—’

  The door behind John was thrown open. The Chief stormed in.

  ‘Tesh, let him go.’

  John half turned around in his chair.

  ‘Chief, I—’

  ‘Now, Tesh.’

  Reluctantly John reached over and released the bulky restraints. The man rubbed his wrists as he stood up.

  Smiling, he said, ‘Better luck next time, Sentinel.’

  With that he left the interview room. John watched him leave. Then he asked, ‘Chief, what the hell just happened?’

  ‘I don’t know, John, but it came straight down from the Ruling Council. Whoever he was, he was well connected. I’ve never seen them involve themselves in one of our investigations so directly.’