by Thomas Fay
‘What took you so long?’ was the greeting he offered.
John laughed.
‘Funny. He in there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Has anyone spoken to him yet?’
‘Not formally. Dean and Nostrum picked him up at the airport after CASA alerted them. Would you believe he actually showed up to work today?’
‘What else was he supposed to do?’
‘Not much, I guess. Where’s Socrates?’
‘Changing into a new shirt.’
Fernali looked at him for a long moment. John could tell what his old partner was thinking. He was thinking it too.
‘Interesting times,’ Fernali finally said.
‘That they are. You want to sit in on this?’
‘Sure. I’ve got nothing better to do.’
‘Getting funnier.’
John opened the door to Interview Room 2. The inside was the standard Sentinel layout of a table and two chairs. Greg Rawson was seated behind the table. He was an older man, dressed in a short-sleeved white shirt with khaki pants. The stubble on his face attested to the difficult few days he’d endured, along with the tired look in his eyes. Fernali closed the door as he entered and leaned against the wall behind John, who sat down opposite Greg.
‘Mr Rawson, my name is John Tesh. Can you tell me what happened to you?’
Greg took a deep breath. Resting his hands on the table, he began to speak.
‘It all started two days ago. I finished my shift at the airport control tower. When I got into my car, there was a man sitting on the back seat. He told me he knew who I was, who my family were and where they were. He said he had people following them and he showed me live footage of my children with my ex-wife on his phone.’
John nodded. The story was surprisingly close to the one Zachary Wallman had recounted when he’d pretended to be Greg Rawson.
‘What did he want from you?’
‘He told me I had two choices. The first involved co-operating with him and not alerting the authorities, in which case nothing would happen to me or my family. The second … was the opposite. I knew I had no choice.’
‘I understand. What happened then?’
‘The man got out of my car. I was so shocked that I think I sat there for the next hour without moving. Finally, I drove home. The next morning I received a call. It was the same man. He told me I had to allow a light plane to land just before curfew and then erase all record of it landing. He said I had to do it without anyone else knowing.’
‘And did you?’
‘Yes. I’m sorry but I had no choice. I … sent everyone home early and then cleared the flight to land. Then I wiped the records. I don’t know how anyone on the ground didn’t notice that plane.’
‘We believe the man you spoke to had an agent on the ground, masquerading as ground crew for the airport.’
Greg Rawson nodded.
‘Yes, that would do it. Who are these people? Have you apprehended them?’
‘I’m afraid I cannot discuss an ongoing investigation, Mr Rawson.’
‘What about my family?’
‘They’re under Sentinel protection. We have teams assigned to them twenty-four hours a day until this situation is resolved.’
‘Thank you. I just want this to be over.’
‘As do we, Mr Rawson. Which is why anything you can tell me about the man in your car would be helpful. Did you get a good look at him?’
‘No, I’m sorry. It was dark and he must have deactivated the internal lights.’
‘Anything else you can tell me about him—the way he sounded, what he wore?’
Greg’s brow contracted as he willed the memories to surface. Looking at John, his eyes suddenly opened wider.
‘What is it?’ John asked.
‘He was dressed like that.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like that—dark-grey suit, with a black shirt and grey tie.’
‘Thank you, Mr Rawson. Please remain here and another Sentinel will be with you shortly to escort you home.’
John stood up. Motioning to Fernali, they left the interview room. The moment the door closed, Fernali turned to John.
‘What was that about him being dressed like a Sentinel?’ Fernali asked.
John smiled.
‘He’s an arrogant son of a bitch, isn’t he?’ John said.
‘Definitely. What was the point though?’
John considered the question.
‘I think Sorensen was right. Whoever these people are, they’re very good at distracting us from what they’re really up to.’
‘That makes sense. I know I’d be wondering why he was dressed like one of us.’
‘Did we get anything from the hacker’s second nest in Pyrmont?’
Fernali shook his head.
‘No. The data was wiped before the techs got there.’
‘Damn. They must have infiltrated the building cameras. I guess it was a long shot but at least we should have crippled their ability to mess with city surveillance and traffic management by shutting down those two nests.’
‘We can hope. Come on, we’d better get going.’
‘Where?’
‘Chief wants everyone down on level ten.’
Forty-Seven
The Sentinel armoury was located on level ten. The secure area housed a full range of weapons, from the standard issue rapid-fire handguns to high-powered sniper rifles. Rows of body armour provided essential protection for urban combat situations. Located at the back, behind a blast shield, was a variety of compact explosives. A certain sense of calm finality hung over the armoury. If a Sentinel needed to be fully outfitted, it meant events were serious.
In contrast to the armoury, the situation room located on the northern side of level ten was a hive of activity. Dozens of grey-suited Sentinels stood in the centre. A handful of others, in full combat gear, stood on the periphery of the room. John and Socrates entered the room. One of the Sentinels in combat gear waved at them.
‘Umm … ’ John began, trying to identify the Sentinel.
‘Seriously?’ a voice demanded. It appeared to come from the centre of the composite helmet.
‘Sorensen, is that you?’ John asked.
The armoured figure nodded. Given the bulk of the combat plating, it was a rather strange gesture.
‘I take it things are getting serious?’ John asked.
‘Yes. The Chief isn’t taking any chances with the security detail at the Opera House tonight.’
‘I think that’s the right move. That anti-aircraft weapon is still out there and God only knows what else these people are armed with.’
The bulky armoured figure of Anna Sorensen hefted the double-barrelled gauss rifle cradled in her arms.
‘We’ll be ready.’
John nodded as a hush passed over the assembled Sentinels. The Chief had appeared at the front of the room. He stood in front of the holoprojectors, silhouetted against a blank wall.
‘I’ll make this brief,’ the Chief began. Silence descended across the room of dark-grey suits while the armoured figures stood motionless, silent guardians holding the world at bay.
‘The Ruling Council has requested Sentinel assistance in providing security for the UN gala tonight. The event kicks off at 8.00 pm but guests will begin arriving earlier. We’ll be running several teams: Muller will be co-ordinating with Iona police to keep the roads and waterways secure and Fernali will be working with the Ruling Council on air traffic while Nostrum will be monitoring all emergency frequencies from HQ.’
The Chief looked at each of them in turn. Muller, Fernali and Nostrum nodded. Satisfied, the Chief continued.
‘I don’t need to remind you of the incidents that happened in Iona over the last two days. Stay alert, people. We almost lost two of our own already and I am not losing any Sentinels on my watch. Which is why Sorensen will be leading the last team—a full tactical squad on standby if things go pear shaped.’
Several of the men and women in grey suits cast guarded glances at the armoured figures in the room. The presence of the heavily armoured Sentinels was both reassuring and a clear reminder of just how serious the situation was.
‘Alright, that’s it, people. Get out there. Watch yourselves, stay in contact and report anything that doesn’t look right. I don’t need to remind you of how important this event is. Do what you do.’
The Sentinels began to leave the room. The Chief caught John’s eye and motioned him over. He approached, with Socrates a step behind him.
‘Chief,’ John said. ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this gala event.’
The Chief grunted.
‘Tell me about it. Why do you think I gave Sorensen the keys to the armoury?’
John looked at the armour-clad Sentinels filing out of the situation room. It was strange how the armour dehumanised them, made them look like machines. In contrast, Socrates appeared human. Appearances certainly could be deceiving.
‘I kind of get the feeling Sorensen has been waiting for this sort of operation since she joined the Sentinels,’ John said.
‘You might be right. So where are you two with tracking down who’s behind this?’
‘Techs are analysing the sat phone we recovered from the ambassador’s hotel room but Socrates managed to extract enough information to confirm what we suspected.’
‘Which is …?’
‘That whoever is running this operation is part of the UN.’
The Chief let out an explosive breath.
‘Bloody hell, Tesh. That just about rules out handling this diplomatically.’
‘I’d say so. How do you want us to proceed?’
‘I need to speak to my contacts in the Ruling Council. We can’t violate diplomatic immunity without their permission.’
John nodded.
‘I think, given the evidence, they’ll give us the green light.’
‘I tend to agree. While they’ve been careful not to compromise the UN summit, they’re not going to permit someone to operate unchecked within the city.’
‘What is our role tonight?’ Socrates asked.
‘We need to flush out these rogue agents,’ John said. ‘Which means, we need to be at the gala.’
‘But we’re not invited.’
John grinned.
‘Not yet, but I think it’s about time Agent Koelmeyer made herself useful to this investigation.’
‘Good thinking, Tesh,’ the Chief said. ‘What about Socrates?’
John turned to look at his partner. The unstoppable, seemingly indestructible android. Then he smiled.
‘Oh, I can’t wait to see what he’s capable of.’
Forty-Eight
The Opera House had suffered considerable damage during the GEC riots. Large sections of the exterior sails were damaged, along with the entrances and most glass panels. The interiors didn’t fare much better when rioters broke in during a performance of Mozart’s Don Giovanni in late 2028. Given its significance as a world-renowned symbol of the city of Iona, the Ruling Council had prioritised its reconstruction. While the original construction took almost sixteen years from design to official opening, under the auspices of the Iona Corporation, the Opera House was rebuilt in less than nine months. Several major improvements were also incorporated, including converting all the existing building plant to Flux-Cell-powered state-of-the-art equipment and the addition of a new space, the Grand Ballroom. It was here that the UN gala was being held.
John stood near the main entrance to the Opera House. He adjusted his bowtie. He checked his phone. No calls. Casting around, he absently marked the location of the Sentinel and police teams stationed around the building. He knew Sorensen was patrolling the lower levels with her combat team. Smiling, he realised Sorensen was probably hoping something happened so she’d actually get to use the high-tech armour and weaponry. John had only ever seen the double-barrelled gauss rifles used in practice sessions. The heavy weapons threw out ten-centimetre-long magnetised projectiles at supersonic velocities. In the training demonstration, the weapons had reduced an abandoned house to rubble in less than a minute.
‘Penny for your thoughts?’ a female voice interrupted John’s thoughts.
He turned to find Vanessa Koelmeyer standing behind him. She was dressed in a full-length maroon ball gown. Her hair was tied up and she wore a simple platinum necklace with matching earrings. John was actually speechless for a moment. She looked that good.
‘Are you okay?’ Vanessa asked, smiling.
John laughed.
‘Yes, I’m fine. You?’
‘This isn’t the most comfortable outfit in the world but, judging by your reaction, I’d say it’s worth it.’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Of course you don’t. Shall we?’
John held out his arm. Vanessa slipped her hand around his elbow. They walked inside together.
‘I’d better keep you away from Muller,’ John said.
‘Why?’ Vanessa asked.
‘He could barely remember his own name when he met you. If he saw you looking like this, I’m worried he might have a stroke or something.’
Vanessa laughed. The sound disappeared into a wave of noise as they entered the Grand Ballroom. Men and women dressed in formal wear mingled in the centre, while wait staff manoeuvred expertly between them with drinks and canapés. A musical ensemble comprising a dozen of the city’s finest musicians filled the air with the sound of their instruments in perfect harmony while the magnificent ballroom provided the backdrop to the evening’s event.
John adjusted his bowtie again as he scanned the room. The ambassadors were easy enough to spot—they were surrounded by their entourages. The security details were a little harder to see but, if one knew what they were looking for, their strategic positioning in the room combined with their constant scanning of their surroundings made them suddenly clear to see. With a sinking feeling John realised that the rogue operatives were impossible to identify. Except for Zachary Wallman, the UN security operative assigned to the UK delegate, the others could be anyone: the wait staff, the musicians, or any one of the guests.
‘Something wrong?’ Vanessa asked.
John realised he had tensed up. Forcing himself to relax, he smiled at her.
‘No, I’m fine.’
‘Okay. Come on, I’ll introduce you to the ambassadors.’
‘Lead the way.’
Vanessa seemed perfectly at home in this kind of setting. She manoeuvred them effortlessly around the room, injecting herself at exactly the right moment into conversations. In short succession, John found himself standing in front of the Chinese ambassador.
‘Ambassador Shen,’ Vanessa said.
‘Ms Koelmeyer,’ Shen Hua, the Chinese ambassador said. ‘You look quite beautiful this evening.’
‘You are too kind. Please, allow me to introduce John Tesh, a Sentinel.’
John held out his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, the Chinese ambassador shook it.
‘Pleasure,’ John said.
‘Sentinel? I have heard of your organisation.’
‘Some good reports, I trust?’
‘The Sentinels are regarded as one of the finest police forces in the world. Another gift of your Iona Corporation.’
‘We do our best.’
The Chinese ambassador leaned in closer.
‘Tell me, Mr Tesh. Do you believe the Iona Corporation had the right to annex the city of Sydney? Should the UN have agreed to such an action when they have so harshly criticised other countries, my own included, for similar actions in the past which were undertaken in the interests of national security?’
John realised this was one of those situations when the Chief expected him to act diplomatically. He also realised that he, along with most citizens of Iona, had simply accepted Iona Corporation control without really thinking about it.
‘To be honest, Mr Ambassador, I haven’t
really given it much thought. My job is to enforce the law and ensure the safety of Iona and its citizens.’
‘Of course, Mr Tesh. I understand your position. We are all tasked with protecting our own interests. Still, it surprises me that someone in your position has not paused to consider the implications of Iona Corporation control over this city. Perhaps, someday, you will. Ms Koelmeyer, please convey my regards to your superiors.’
‘I will, Ambassador Shen. Enjoy the evening.’
The Chinese ambassador inclined his head, dismissing them. Vanessa moved them across to where the Swedish ambassador was speaking to a woman John recognised as the head of the Central Bank of Iona.
‘Hello, John.’
Turning around, John came face to face with his wife, Lauren. She looked spectacular in a full-length cerulean gown that shimmered every time the light caught it.
‘Lauren, I thought I might run into you here,’ John said.
‘Who’s this?’
‘Allow me to introduce Special Agent Vanessa Koelmeyer. She’s been assisting with our investigation.’
Vanessa extended her hand. After the slightest hesitation, Lauren shook it.
‘Pleasure to meet you, Lauren. I take it you’re John’s better half?’ Vanessa said.
‘You could say that. Who are you exactly?’
‘I work with the US delegate. I was assigned to assist the Sentinels with the recent incidents that have occurred in the city.’
‘Right. Well … try to keep John out of trouble.’
Vanessa winked at Lauren.
‘Do my best.’
With that she looped her arm through John’s and led him away. Before they turned away, John caught sight of Lauren’s face. She wasn’t happy. He wasn’t exactly sure what he’d done wrong this time but one thing was for certain—he’d pay for it later.
Forty-Nine
The music stopped. As silence slowly permeated the Grand Ballroom, those in attendance turned their attention to the front of the ballroom. An older man dressed in a tuxedo was making his way onto the stage. Reaching the podium at its centre, he stopped. Clearing his throat, he addressed those in the room.
