by Thomas Fay
‘Okay, it’s working. Now what?’
‘Wait a moment while I reactivate the code and broadcast a signal,’ Socrates said.
‘What? Isn’t that exactly what we’re trying not to do?’ John asked.
Socrates turned to the technician, Nina Roeden.
‘Can you please explain to him what I am about to do?’
Roeden looked closely at the code scrolling down the screen in front of Socrates. She nodded her head slowly. Meanwhile, Socrates continued typing. More lines of code appeared on the screen.
‘If I’m understanding this correctly, what he’s going to do is broadcast to whoever has your phone and piggyback on that signal. That should provide us with their location,’ Roeden said.
‘Why didn’t you just say that?’ John asked.
‘If I had tried to explain it to you then you would not have understood my explanation,’ Socrates said.
‘Umm … okay. You’re probably right. So, is it working?’
‘Broadcasting now.’
John’s phone buzzed once. The indicator light blinked three times. A burst of code appeared on the screen. Socrates’s fingers became a blur across the virtual keyboard.
‘Anything?’ Fernali asked.
‘One moment, I am using the cell phone towers to triangulate. On screen now.’
The lines of code disappeared to be replaced by a map of the city of Iona. The map panned north and zoomed in on a location in Macquarie Park.
‘Can we get street-level cameras?’ John asked.
‘There is a UAV located in that area. I believe I can access its sensors to provide us with a better view,’ Socrates said.
‘UAV? As in a Ruling Council drone?’
‘Yes.’
Before John could say anything else, the image on screen changed to that of a distribution centre. A large number of trucks were parked in rows waiting to be loaded. The image zoomed in between two of the trucks. A man dressed in an Iona Corporation uniform was standing next to one of the trucks. He was using his phone.
‘Can you zoom in further?’ John asked.
The image zoomed in rapidly, testament to the quality of the focal lenses on the Ruling Council drones. The man’s face filled the screen but, given the angle and the fact he was looking at his phone, it was impossible to see his face clearly.
‘C’mon, look up, look up,’ Fernali and John whispered at the same time.
The man closed his phone. He looked up. The image vanished.
‘What happened?’ John asked.
‘I have been locked out of the UAV’s systems. It appears someone detected my intrusion.’
‘Oh-oh,’ John whispered.
A moment later his phone rang. He had no doubt who it was. Hitting the answer button, he said, ‘Hello, Councillor.’
‘What exactly do you think you’re doing?’ Councillor Alara Green asked.
‘My phone was hacked. We managed to use it to our advantage and locate the person responsible. We’re—’
‘Your phone was hacked? Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
The Councillor hung up. John realised he had spoken to her during the period his phone had been compromised, which meant the hacker could have obtained the codes to access a Councillor’s phone. Once more his uncle’s warning about the Rainmaker echoed in his head. His adversary certainly was clever. He had also thrown serious doubt on a number of people close to him.
‘John, are you alright?’ Socrates asked.
‘Fine. Let’s go. We need to get to Macquarie Park as quickly as possible.’
‘You need anything else from us?’ Fernali asked.
John looked at Fernali for a long moment. Finally, he said, ‘Not right now, thanks. Maybe later you could help me with something.’
‘No problem. I’ll catch up with you later.’
John and Socrates made their way to the turbo-lift. Socrates pressed the button for down. John watched his partner closely. His computer abilities were formidable. The fact that he had been able to crack Sentinel security and hack into a Ruling Council UAV were concerning. Particularly in light of the fact that he was now the number-one suspect as the Rainmaker’s fifth, hidden, agent.
The turbo-lift doors slid open. Socrates entered and pressed the button for the basement parking level. John entered the turbo-lift. The doors slid shut.
With a sinking feeling, John realised he could be walking into a trap. The car explosion had been a close call. This time, he might not be so lucky.
Thirty
The turbo-lift doors opened in the secure underground parking garage of Sentinel HQ. Rows of identical unmarked cruisers dominated the car park. Each one was a powerful weapon in the Sentinel’s arsenal against crime. John and Socrates were greeted by Pawel Kowalski, the on-site mechanic.
‘John, it is good to see you again. The Chief said you would be coming down,’ Pawel said.
He was relatively short and his face always seemed to be covered in engine oil. Which was strange, given all the vehicles in the car park ran on Flux Cells and no longer required engine oil.
‘Pawel, good to see you,’ John said.
‘I heard what happened.’
John nodded.
‘I got lucky. Sadly, my car did not.’
Pawel crossed himself. Besides being a very good mechanic, he was also devoutly religious. Not surprising, given his traditional Polish upbringing.
‘John, you should not joke about something like that.’
‘You’re probably right. I guess it’s a coping mechanism. If I actually stopped to think about how close I came to being blown into a million pieces, I’d probably need a month on some deserted island just to get through it. I don’t have time for that and right now I really need another cruiser.’
Pawel motioned for them to follow him. He walked up to the fourth car in the row closest to them. Pulling up a requisition form on his touchscreen tablet, he turned it around and presented it to John.
‘Cruiser A-004. Please initial here and here, confirming you are signing it out. I’ll also need your fingerprint authentication.’
John tapped the screen with his finger, creating barely legible initials JT where Pawel was pointing. He then pressed the tips of his fingers to the screen until it registered a satisfactory green. Finishing, he looked at Socrates.
‘Do you need his signature and authentication as well?’ John asked.
‘Will he be driving?’
‘Probably, at some point.’
‘Then yes. If you could … ?’
‘Socrates.’
Pawel nodded and handed the touchscreen tablet to Socrates who initialled in the spaces indicated. His initials were perfectly legible, unlike John’s chicken scrawl. Socrates then placed his hand on the screen. Nothing happened for a second. Then it flashed green. Satisfied, Pawel closed the form and handed John a remote.
‘Good luck, John.’
John managed a weak smile.
‘I’ll try not to let this one get blown up.’
Pawel nodded and walked away. John and Socrates got into the cruiser. The inside looked the same as the previous one. John pressed the biometrically coded ignition button and the Flux-Cell-powered vehicle hummed to life. He turned to his partner.
‘I’m going to activate the Sentinel traffic override. It will ensure we don’t encounter any red lights along the way to our destination.’
‘John, is that wise?’
‘Why?’
‘Based on the incidents we have seen over the last day and a half, we know that the traffic management systems in Iona have been compromised. Using the override will alert them to our intended destination.’
John slammed his hands down on the steering wheel. Socrates remained perfectly still.
‘I’m getting a little sick and tired of these people. We really need to shut down their hacker.’
Socrates said nothing as John reversed the Sentinel cruiser out of its parking space. Engaging the forwar
d drive, he peeled out of the underground car park with a screech of tyres.
Thirty-One
The distribution centre covered an area of two hundred thousand square kilometres. It was the largest facility of its type not only within the sovereign city-state of Iona but the entire Australian continent. It included a state-of-the-art automated sorting and loading system, along with integrated holoprojection technology for scanning shipments. It could load twenty B-double trucks simultaneously. It was also one of the most secure facilities in the world, given it was the primary distribution centre for the Iona Corporation’s Flux Cell.
‘Christ, this place is more secure than Fort Knox,’ John said.
‘Fort Knox?’ Socrates asked.
‘It’s a gold depository in the United States. I should say was. It was completely destroyed during the Global Energy Crisis.’
‘Clearly it is not the same as this facility, as this facility is still here, implying that its security and construction are substantially more robust.’
John half turned to look at his partner.
‘You really take things literally, don’t you?’ he asked.
‘Was there another way I should interpret your comment?’
‘Yes. Not so literally.’
‘I will endeavour to do so in the future.’
‘Right. Thanks, I think.’
John eyed his partner as he took out his phone. Scrolling through his recent call list, he located the number he was looking for. He looked at his partner again. If he was right about him working for the Rainmaker, then his phone could still be compromised. Then again, it was unlikely given the fact that a Sentinel technician had watched him reprogram his phone. John realised he would find out soon enough. He hit the dial button.
‘What have you done now?’ Councillor Alara Green’s voice asked.
‘Nothing. What did I do before?’
‘Quite a bit. You almost compromised our telecommunications network.’
‘Ah, yes. Sorry about that. I had no idea my phone had been hacked. Sentinel phones are supposed to be secure.’
‘Are you any closer to finding out what this is all about?’
‘I believe so.’
‘Care to share your findings?’
John cast a guarded glance at his partner.
‘Not just yet, but very soon,’ John said.
‘Okay. So why did you call me? Wait, let me guess—you need something from me.’
John grinned, despite the situation he was in.
‘How did you guess?’ he asked.
‘I’m getting to know you.’
‘Why, Councillor, I believe you’re starting to like me despite yourself.’
‘Don’t push it. What do you need?’
‘Access to the Iona Corporation’s main distribution facility in Macquarie Park. We believe a person of interest is inside.’
‘Is that why you hacked into one of our UAVs?’
‘Councillor, we really need to get inside and get our hands on this man. He was the one receiving information from my phone. If we can catch him then I believe we will finally have some tangible proof of what’s happening in Iona.’
There was a momentary silence.
‘Alright, I’m granting you and your partner one-time security clearance to access the distribution centre. Leave your car where it is and proceed on foot.’
John instinctively scanned the front of the distribution centre. He located at least four cameras pointing in his direction. There was no doubt Councillor Green could see him. He just hoped the cameras were more secure than the citywide street-level cameras.
‘Understood. I’ll be in touch.’
John closed his phone. Putting it in his pocket, he opened the door.
‘Come on. We’ve been cleared to access the facility.’
Socrates opened the passenger-side door and got out. The two of them walked the short distance from their car to the entrance of the distribution centre. A pair of Council operatives, their reflective visors glinting in the afternoon sun, stopped them.
‘Halt. This is a restricted area.’
‘John Tesh, Sentinel. ID Alpha-101. I’ve been cleared by Councillor Alara Green to access this facility.’
The operatives didn’t move for a full sixty seconds. John began to wonder if Councillor Green had had time to arrange access for them. Time was slipping away if they were to have any chance of apprehending the rogue agent. The operatives suddenly stepped aside.
‘John Tesh and Socrates. You may proceed.’
Thirty-Two
The Sentinels recruited the best of the best from law enforcement, military and private security across the city of Iona and abroad. Those who were handpicked were then put through a gruelling training regime designed to sharpen their physical and mental abilities. John had been fortunate to work with several highly trained and capable people during his eighteen months with the Sentinels. None of them compared to his new partner in terms of sheer physical prowess. It was almost as if Socrates had memorised the layout of the distribution centre and could somehow predict where people would appear in his path. Even at a fast walking pace, John struggled to keep up with him. He finally stopped when they reached the warehouse area.
‘This place is enormous,’ John said, trying to catch his breath. His back was protesting and he was sweating despite the perfectly temperature-controlled environment of the distribution centre. Seemingly endless rows of floor-to-ceiling shelves stretched out in front of them. Automated loaders moved between the shelves while drones scanned packages. Socrates stood motionless, his eyes staring at the distribution centre.
‘Any idea where we’re going?’ John asked.
Socrates continued to stare straight ahead. He appeared completely still.
‘Socrates?’
John reached out and touched his partner’s shoulder. Socrates turned to look at him.
‘May I borrow your phone?’
‘Sure, I guess. Why?’
‘I will attempt to locate the suspect by using your telephone.’
‘Okay. And, no, don’t try and explain it to me. Just do it.’
Socrates held out his hand. John withdrew his phone from his suit pocket and handed it to Socrates. His partner took the phone and opened it. Scrolling through the menus, he input a series of instructions on the keypad. The phone buzzed once. The screen flashed twice. Socrates stared at the phone. It flashed once more. He lifted the phone and traced an arc through the air in front of him. The phone began to flash when he pointed it towards the south-east corner of the distribution centre.
‘This way. Follow me,’ Socrates said.
As they moved down one of the endless rows of shelves, John couldn’t shake the feeling he was being led into a trap. The only problem was it made no sense—why would they deliberately not kill him with the car explosion only to then set him up? Socrates’s work in tracing his compromised phone to this location seemed genuine. It felt like they were finally one step ahead. The fact that they were now inside a Flux Cell distribution centre had him convinced they were on the right track. He just couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was something wrong about his partner. It eluded him, like déjà vu in a dream.
****
They reached the end of the warehouse section ten minutes later. It was that big. Leaning against the side of the oversized doors, John took a deep breath. His back felt like it was on fire and it hurt every time he breathed.
‘Are you alright, John?’ Socrates asked. His partner was standing next to the wall, beside him.
‘I’m okay. Give me a second.’
Socrates lifted John’s phone and traced another arc in the air in front of him. The phone began to flash at one point.
‘I believe that whoever has been receiving information from your phone is located in the second row of vehicles.’
John peered through the doorway, squinting against the bright white light shining into the warehouse from outside. Row upon row o
f identical Iona Corporation freight trucks were parked outside the warehouse on the southern end of the distribution centre. Several workers dressed in matching Iona Corporation uniforms moved between the trucks.
‘You sure?’ he asked.
‘Yes. I estimate that he is approximately two hundred metres from our present location. I am unable to compute his position exactly using only your telephone.’
John eyed his partner. There was something in the way he spoke, in the way he described technology. It was almost as if … Maybe it was the constant throbbing in his back or the heat but the answer was eluding him. He knew it was there.
‘John, are you ready?’ Socrates asked.
Drawing his handgun, John held it by his side as he took several deep breaths. The pain receded to a dull ache. His focus narrowed. These were the people who had almost killed him. The people his uncle had described as a highly functional and dangerous black-ops team. It was time to get some answers.
‘Let’s go,’ John said.
Socrates peeled away from the wall and made his way to the nearest truck. John followed close behind, his weapon grasped tightly in his right hand. They reached the side of the truck. Skirting it on the left side, they reached the front. Socrates lifted John’s phone. It was flashing rapidly. They were close. Very close. Socrates closed John’s phone and handed it back to him. John placed it back inside his suit pocket with his left hand. He held his weapon in his right.
Socrates moved through the narrow one-metre gap between the front of the truck and the next truck in the row. John followed behind him, weapon held at the ready. A man wearing an Iona Corporation uniform was leaning against the side of the truck. He wore a cap on his head. He looked up.
Even wearing the Iona Corporation uniform, John recognised him. The last time he’d seen the man, he’d been wearing an Iona Airport uniform. It was the maintenance worker he’d interviewed about the light plane. One of the Rainmaker’s agents.
‘Sentinels—do not move!’ John ordered.
The man remained perfectly still, his eyes watching them carefully from under the shade of his cap.
