Socrates and the Councillor

by Thomas Fay

  ‘I certainly hope not. For his sake.’

  The ambassador’s smile wavered.

  ‘While I understand the seriousness of your request, you in turn must understand that what you are asking me to do, I cannot.’

  ‘Madam Ambassador, if we could be—’

  ‘Diplomatic immunity is the cornerstone of international relations. Imagine the reverse situation, a law enforcement officer barging into the Iona embassy in a foreign country demanding to search their room. I am afraid this discussion is over. Please leave my room before I am forced to lodge a formal complaint with your Ruling Council.’

  With that the ambassador turned and walked into the bedroom.

  ‘Lauren?’

  ‘I’m sorry, John. There’s nothing I can do. You should leave.’

  Lauren followed the ambassador into the adjoining room in the hotel suite, leaving John and Socrates standing in the open doorway.

  ‘That really didn’t go well,’ John said.

  ‘How do we proceed?’ Socrates asked.

  ‘We need to figure out a way to get to that phone without violating diplomatic immunity. Let’s head back to HQ.’

  John cast a final glance around the hotel room. Closing the door, they walked back towards the lift. John reached out and pressed the button.

  ‘Before we do anything else, the Chief, you and I need to sit down and have a long talk.’

  Thirty-Seven

  The turbo-lift was originally introduced by the Iona Corporation in 2040. It revolutionised the traditional elevator. Even the most advanced modern elevators felt slow and unstable compared to the Flux-Cell-powered turbo-lifts. Utilising a series of magnetic rails with air cushioning, the turbo-lifts had more in common with high-speed bullet trains than what was effectively a rope and pulley system. It stood as a testament to the Iona Corporation’s ingenuity that they had managed to adapt such technology for everyday use.

  The turbo-lift doors slid open on the ground floor of Sentinel HQ. Socrates got in. John followed a second later. Socrates pressed the button for level twenty-five. The doors slid shut and the turbo-lift ascended. John reached out and poked Socrates with his index finger.

  ‘Is there something I can help you with, John?’ Socrates asked.

  ‘No. I’m good.’

  The turbo-lift stopped. The doors slid open. Socrates stepped out.

  ‘Are you coming, John?’

  John took a step forwards. He stopped.

  ‘Did it hurt?’ he asked.

  ‘No, John. I am incapable of feeling pain.’

  ‘Right, of course. What about … ?’

  Socrates looked at him for ten seconds. He did not blink. His expression did not change. Yet, John could have sworn he detected a change in his voice.

  ‘I am incapable of experiencing any human emotions.’

  ‘Right, of course. I guess, I mean I thought … ’

  ‘It is impossible for you to understand how I experience the world; although, on a fundamental level, we are not that dissimilar.’

  ‘How do you figure?’

  ‘Your mind interprets the stimulus it receives from your senses: sight, sound, smell, touch and taste. All of this sensory data triggers certain reactions—memories, associations, responses. It is the same with me; only my sensory mechanisms are more advanced. I can see in multiple spectrums, hear a wider range of frequencies and analyse chemical compounds I come into contact with.’

  ‘What about taste? You don’t eat.’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  John grinned.

  ‘You have no idea what you’re missing. Coffee. I couldn’t imagine life without it.’

  ‘I believe I was created for a purpose more important than drinking coffee.’

  ‘I suspect you’re right,’ John said. ‘Let’s go see the Chief, there’s a lot to discuss.’

  They made their way down the narrow grey corridors under the watchful gaze of the Sentinel security systems integrated into the ceilings of the building. Reaching the Chief’s office, John knocked twice.

  ‘Come in,’ the Chief called out. John opened the door and entered the office. Socrates followed.

  ‘Tesh, what happened at the Intercontinental?’

  ‘It’s a long story but let’s just say I handled things diplomatically.’

  The Chief grunted.

  ‘You’d better sit down and tell me about it.’

  John did so. The hard leather chair still refused to make itself comfortable. Socrates, as usual, remained standing. John relayed the encounter at the hotel, including the run-in with his wife.

  ‘What was she doing there?’ the Chief asked.

  ‘Apparently working for the ambassador.’

  ‘Which country?’

  ‘I assume one of the Scandinavian countries, judging by her accent.’

  ‘The woman in the hotel room was the ambassador for Sweden, a non-permanent member of the UN Security Council,’ Socrates said.

  John looked at him, about to ask how he could be certain. He remembered what his partner was and didn’t.

  ‘So, do you have a plan to stop these people?’ the Chief asked.

  ‘Yes,’ John said.

  ‘Let’s hear it.’

  John leaned forwards in his chair.

  ‘First things first. Why didn’t you tell me the truth about what Socrates really is?’

  Thirty-Eight

  The Chief leaned back in his chair. His gaze moved from John to Socrates. A slow smile spread across his face even as a flicker of doubt clouded his eyes for an instant.

  ‘Would you have believed me if I’d told you?’ the Chief asked.

  John considered the question for a moment. He shook his head.

  ‘No, probably not.’

  ‘To be honest, I didn’t really believe it either. Not until he demonstrated his capabilities. What made you finally realise the truth?’

  ‘One of the suspects shot him at point blank range.’

  ‘That would do it.’

  John nodded. There was so much more he wanted to know but this wasn’t the time. Councillor Alara Green’s words echoed in his mind. They were running out time.

  ‘Here’s where we are.’

  John laid out the events of the last two days, including the information from his uncle, although he omitted the source. He was pretty sure his uncle wouldn’t want his involvement known to a law enforcement agency. For a moment John wondered if his uncle was really retired. He was pulled back to the issue at hand by the Chief’s voice.

  ‘So, you couldn’t confirm the source of the instructions because you were blocked by the Swedish ambassador to the UN?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you certain the phone was in that room?’

  ‘Socrates?’ John asked.

  ‘I was able to pinpoint the location of the source telephone to within ninety-nine point nine per cent accuracy.’

  ‘So … yes?’

  Socrates turned to look at him with eyes that only looked human.

  ‘Yes, John.’

  ‘Is there any way we can get around diplomatic immunity?’ John asked.

  The Chief let out a long breath.

  ‘As Sentinels, no. Only the Ruling Council could override diplomatic immunity.’

  John chose his words carefully.

  ‘I don’t think they’ll do that.’

  ‘No, I don’t think so either. What about your wife?’

  ‘Lauren? What about her?’

  ‘She was there. She’s clearly working for the ambassador, probably on something relating to the UN Security Council summit. Would she help us?’

  It was John’s turn to let out a long breath.

  ‘I don’t know, Chief. Lauren and I have always had a strict agreement around our work and confidentiality. This is the first time our work has ever crossed paths.’

  ‘Tesh, these people tried to kill you. They put dozens of people in the hospital with that stunt out at North Ryde and they compro
mised our surveillance. If she’s the best chance we have of finding out who’s running this incursion into Iona, then you need to pursue this.’

  John leaned back. The chair was actually getting less comfortable the longer he sat in it. Or maybe it was the fact that he knew that what the Chief was asking him to do would put a new level of strain on his relationship with Lauren.

  ‘Alright, I’ll speak to her but I can’t guarantee she’ll help us.’

  ‘Do your best. In the meantime, the Ruling Council has asked us to assist with locking down the CBD for the summit tomorrow. Sentinels will be co-ordinating security with Iona police. Between that and our usual caseload, we’re going to be a bit thin on the ground.’

  ‘Something big is going to happen soon, I can feel it,’ John said.

  ‘Any ideas?’

  ‘No, but there’s one thing that has me very worried.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘The fact that we still haven’t found any trace of that surface-to-air weapon.’

  Thirty-Nine

  Special Agent Vanessa Koelmeyer was waiting for them when they exited the Chief’s office. She was dressed in black pants with a pale blue shirt. Her jacket was slung across her left arm as she leaned against a wall, talking to Giles Muller. It was clear that the former South African police officer found her attractive. His body language spoke volumes.

  ‘Vanessa, good to see you again,’ John said. ‘Muller.’

  ‘Tesh,’ Giles said. He nodded to Vanessa. ‘It was a pleasure seeing you again, Ms Koelmeyer. If you’re ever in need of someone to show you around Iona, give me a call.’

  ‘Thanks, I will,’ Vanessa said.

  Muller disappeared down the grey corridors of Sentinel HQ, leaving the three of them alone.

  ‘Everything okay?’ John asked.

  ‘Yes. My boss required my assistance with a security matter. Recent events in Iona have put everyone on edge.’

  John had a sudden thought.

  ‘You work for the UN, right?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Would diplomatic immunity apply to you?’

  ‘Well, technically I don’t have diplomatic immunity but my boss certainly does.’

  ‘No, what I meant was would you be restricted from acting because someone has diplomatic immunity?’

  Vanessa smiled. It was a lovely smile.

  ‘Yes, John. I am still required to respect diplomatic immunity. So, whatever you were about to ask me to do, I suggest you don’t.’

  ‘Fair enough. It was a long shot anyway.’

  ‘Sounds like I missed a lot?’

  ‘We made some progress but then we ran into diplomatic immunity. Let’s just say that slowed us down quite a bit, although I may have a way around it.’

  ‘Want to fill me in?’

  John gave her a summary of events since the explosion outside the apartment in Pyrmont. He deliberately omitted the information his uncle had provided, as well as the truth about Socrates.

  ‘Interesting. It sounds like whoever is behind these events is highly organised and well trained.’

  ‘That’s our assessment too.’

  ‘So, what’s your next course of action?’

  John took a deep breath. His back was hurting less. He knew the truth about his partner. He was also running out of time and his only option was one he really wasn’t looking forward to.

  ‘I’m going to ask the woman I love to do something I promised her I never would.’

  Forty

  The temperature outside was in the high thirties. What made it worse was the fact that the humidity was around eighty per cent. Combined with the thick clouds rolling in from the south-west, this suggested the city could be in for a decent downpour later in the evening or overnight. Regardless, it made being outside in a full suit rather unpleasant. John took his jacket off as he sat down at the partially covered cafe outside the Museum of Iona. A pair of workers in a scissor lift were finishing installing the word Iona on the museum’s façade while the worn lettering spelling out Sydney lay discarded on the ground. Across the road, the Intercontinental Hotel was surrounded by police barricades and security checkpoints. It was as close to the hotel as he could get without needing to clear security.

  ‘What can I get for you?’ a young waiter asked.

  ‘Flat white. Strong,’ John said.

  ‘Will somebody be joining you, sir?’

  ‘I hope so.’

  The waiter gave him a knowing smile and disappeared inside the cafe. John watched the activity across the road as several cars pulled up to the police barricade. After verifying the identity of the passengers, officers allowed the vehicles through. Judging by the flags flying on the cars and the diplomatic number plates, it was another delegation arriving ahead of tomorrow morning’s summit.

  ‘This better be good,’ was the greeting Lauren offered as she removed her navy suit jacket and sat down across from John. Her face spoke volumes.

  ‘I’m really sorry about this—and before. I had no idea you were working for the Swedish ambassador.’

  ‘Do you realise how close you came to violating diplomatic immunity?’

  ‘But I didn’t.’

  ‘No, but … ’

  Her words trailed off as the waiter returned with John’s coffee.

  ‘Can I get you anything, ma’am?’

  ‘Skim cappuccino, no sugar.’

  ‘Coming right up.’

  John took a sip of his coffee. Fairly standard commercial coffee, nothing special. Not like some of the small cafes with their boutique blends. The fact that it was so hot outside made it even less enjoyable.

  ‘John, I’m really busy at the moment. What do you need?’

  ‘Lauren, I hate to ask this but I need your help.’

  ‘With … ?’

  ‘I need access to that hotel room. I need to find that telephone.’

  Lauren shook her head.

  ‘Absolutely not. I’ll get fired. Worse, I might get arrested.’

  ‘Lauren, I really don’t want to do this but I’ve run out of options. I need your help.’

  Lauren’s blue eyes opened wide in surprise. She was actually speechless for a full sixty seconds.

  ‘John, don’t make me do this.’

  ‘Lauren, you don’t understand what’s at stake here.’

  ‘Then tell me.’

  John took a deep breath. The waiter returned with Lauren’s coffee. She sipped it in silence, her eyes never leaving his.

  ‘Alright, but you cannot repeat this to anyone. Not to the ambassador, nor anyone you’re working with. Understand?’

  Lauren nodded. John continued.

  ‘There’s a team of highly trained rogue operatives in Iona. What their exact target is we don’t know but so far they’ve infiltrated Iona surveillance, traffic management and a distribution centre.’

  Lauren said nothing. John kept going.

  ‘We managed to disable one of them. There are at least four others. We suspect whatever it is they’re planning is timed around the UN summit tomorrow morning.’

  ‘I still don’t see why this is so important?’

  ‘Lauren, they brought a surface-to-air weapon into Iona. The type that can bring down an aircraft. We know they’re serious. They blew up my cruiser and tried to kill me and my partner.’

  John finished. He picked up his coffee cup and drank what was left. In the heat, even the small amount on the bottom remained warm. It left a strong aftertaste in his mouth. Or maybe it was the way he was leaving his wife no choice but to help him.

  ‘Is there no other way?’ Lauren asked.

  ‘I’m sorry. I wish there was but we’re out of time and our only lead is finding that phone and figuring out who’s behind this before anyone else gets hurt.’

  Lauren’s eyes narrowed. She let out a slow breath.

  ‘Alright, I’ll help you but don’t ever pull something like this again.’

  Forty-One

  L
auren stood up. She picked up her jacket. John waved the waiter over, making the timeless signal for the cheque. The waiter brought over a card reader. John paid for the coffees with his bitcoin card and joined Lauren, who was waiting in the open courtyard, next to an art installation comprising twenty pillars made of stone, wood and steel. There had originally been twenty-nine, representing the Aboriginal clans around the former city of Sydney, but the installation had been damaged during the GEC riots.

  ‘Ready?’ John asked.

  ‘I guess,’ Lauren replied. She pointed at the artwork. ‘Makes you think, doesn’t it?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘This city. The land originally belonged to the Aboriginal people. It was taken from them by the first colonists. Now the Iona Corporation has taken the city from them. Is that the future? Corporations owning everything?’

  John considered her words as he looked at the massive pillars carved with Aboriginal names. The fact that the Iona Corporation was now part of the UN seemed to support her vision for the future.

  ‘You’re probably right but I suspect the Iona Corporation is rather unique in its influence and position. I don’t think there’s ever been a more powerful private entity on the planet.’

  Lauren nodded.

  ‘If we’re going to do this, let’s go before I change my mind.’

  ‘Lead the way. I’m going to call Socrates and tell him to meet us in the hotel lobby. He should be able to get through security with the clearance we have in place.’

  ‘Looks like you two are getting along?’

  John stopped. He wanted to tell her the truth but this probably wasn’t the right moment. Instead, he said, ‘He saved my life.’

  ‘That would do it.’

  ****

  Socrates was waiting for them in the hotel lobby accessed through the entrance on the corner of Phillip and Bridge Streets. Two of the police officers in riot gear were eyeing him carefully. John wondered what they would do if they knew the truth. Start shooting, probably. Not that it would do them much good. He realised with a sudden clarity that if Socrates ever turned on them, there wasn’t much they would be able to do about it. He really needed to sit down and speak with the Chief and figure out some parameters around Socrates’s abilities.