Socrates and the Sentinel

by Thomas Fay

  ‘Maybe he’s run off,’ Lauren said, managing a weak smile.

  ‘No. He must be in the middle of something. I’m sure he’ll call me back when he can. C’mon, let’s get out of here.’

  Twenty-Eight

  The apartment was located on the tenth floor of a new development on Glebe Point Road. It had a relatively small combined bedroom-living room with a galley kitchen and a stone-finish bathroom. A large window in the main room showed the CBD skyline. John opened the door and held it open for Lauren.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. Her eyes took in the apartment. ‘Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said it was small.’

  ‘We can’t all afford to have breakfast at La Lourable,’ John said.

  The door closed behind them. Lauren turned around. She put her hand on his face, her slender fingers tracing the outline of his cheek.

  ‘It was never about the money, you know that, right?’

  ‘I know.’

  She continued to caress his face, her eyes staring straight into his. Then she leaned forward and kissed him, a long, lingering kiss that melted their lips together. She finally pulled away.

  ‘Thank you for getting me out. I had no right to expect you to save me but thank you all the same.’

  John nodded. Before he could say anything, she kissed him again. This time her arms went around his neck. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close. They moved towards the bed. Lauren broke off the kiss and looked over her shoulder.

  ‘Well, that is convenient, having the bed right in the living room.’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  They fell onto the bed, pulling at each other’s clothes.

  ‘Wait,’ John said. He reached around and pulled out his handgun, placing it on the bedside table. ‘Okay, good to go.’

  Lauren smiled as her mouth devoured his. Her lithe body straddled him as he unbuttoned her shirt. She ripped his off.

  They fell under the covers, touching, caressing, breathing as one. John suddenly stopped.

  ‘Lauren?’

  ‘Yes, John?’

  ‘What are you still not telling me?’

  ‘Seriously? You’re asking me this now?’

  ‘I need to know. If you want me to protect you from Jonathan Gage and risk my career, and possibly my life, then I need to know what I’m getting into.’

  Lauren sat up.

  ‘John, I swear on my mother’s life that I’ve told you everything I know about Walter Menzies’s death.’

  ‘What about Qallan Frost?’

  ‘Never met him. The first contact I ever had with him was when he called me last night.’

  ‘Alright, I believe you.’

  Lauren put her hands around his neck.

  ‘Do you really want to talk about the case right now?’

  John smiled.

  ‘No, not really.’

  Twenty-Nine

  The clock on the stove read 2.35 am. John quietly rolled out of bed, careful not to disturb Lauren’s sleeping form. Grabbing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt off the floor, he put them on and walked out onto the balcony. Pulling out his phone, he checked his messages. Nothing. Scrolling through his call list, he dialled Socrates. The phone rang out. No answer.

  ‘Where are you?’ he whispered under his breath.

  Leaning on the cool metallic railing, he watched the CBD lights flickering in the distance. The sky was empty. The midnight-to-six-am curfew meant no aircraft would be in the air at this time. The only things in the air would be Ruling Council transport ships and surveillance drones. High-altitude UAVs were constantly in the air above Iona, their multi-spectrum telescopic lenses recording real time surveillance footage and feeding it back to the data analysis centre deep within the Ruling Council Chambers. John would have loved to have had access to that sort of surveillance but he had to settle for the street-level cameras.

  He took a deep breath as he stared at his phone. Finally, he typed a short text message to Socrates. Hitting send, he went back inside the apartment. Pulling his jeans off, he slipped back into bed.

  ****

  It was 6.30 am on Friday morning when John awoke. Opening his eyes, he reached across. Lauren was gone. He heard the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. Smiling, he stood up. He checked his phone. Nothing. His smile wavered.

  Lauren appeared in the living room. She had a white towel wrapped around her body. Her hair was wet.

  ‘Morning,’ she said.

  ‘Morning,’ he replied.

  ‘You seem rather pleased with yourself.’

  ‘Oh, you know.’

  She walked over and kissed him.

  ‘Yes, I know. So what now?’

  ‘Now I think it’s time for you to do what you do best.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Ignore what I told you to do. I think it’s time for you to leave the city for a while, until I can figure out what the hell is going on and who’s trying to kill you.’

  Lauren nodded. Then she frowned.

  ‘That’s going to be difficult with a Councillor after me.’

  ‘I think I know someone who can help with that. C’mon, get dressed. Don’t worry about breakfast, I’m sure there will be plenty to eat.’

  Thirty

  They walked out of the apartment building, heading south along Glebe Point Road. They passed a number of people on their way to work. It was still early but the streets were lined with pedestrians, retailers and uni students. Just another day.

  A sudden shadow fell across the pavement. Lauren tensed up, her eyes fixed firmly on the pavement. The Ruling Council transport ship passed by overhead two hundred metres above the ground. It did not stop or even slow down. Clearly it had been tasked with another mission.

  ‘It’s gone,’ John said.

  Lauren risked a quick glance upward. Seeing the sky was empty, she relaxed.

  ‘Sorry, I’m just a bit jumpy, given what happened yesterday.’

  ‘That’s understandable. Don’t worry, I won’t let them take you again.’

  ‘Thanks, but we both know there’s not much you can do if Jonathan Gage finds me again. You’re a Sentinel, after all. You can’t go against a member of the Ruling Council.’

  ‘We’ll see about that.’

  ‘No, John. You were lucky at the silo facility. If Councillor Alara Green hadn’t shown up when she did, then we’d all be locked up in there.’

  John said nothing. He raised his arm. A cab further along the street flashed its lights at him—once, twice. He put his hand down. The cab stopped alongside. He opened the door.

  ‘After you,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks,’ Lauren said. She got into the taxi. John got in after her and closed the door.

  ‘Where to?’ the cabbie asked, his eyes peering at them from the rear-view mirror.

  ‘Five Dock.’

  The taxi’s sign went dark and it pulled away from the kerb, the Flux Cell providing effortless power. Taxi drivers loved the Flux Cell. Not only was it clean and quiet, it allowed them to drive around all day without ever needing to refuel. It meant they could work longer and make more money because, even though the cost of converting a vehicle to Flux Cells was high, there was no further running cost other than an annual maintenance check. The cabbie smiled as he flicked the meter on.

  ****

  The cab turned off Victoria Road onto Lyons Road, crossing into the suburb of Five Dock. John and Lauren had ridden in silence. Both knew they had been lucky the night before. It was the sort of luck that happened only once. The next time it would not hold.

  John’s phone vibrated in his suit pocket. He flicked it open.

  ‘Tesh.’

  ‘It’s Fernali. Where are you?’

  ‘In a cab heading to Five Dock. You?’

  ‘I’m at Sentinel HQ. We’ve been working on the Karl Hobbs background since 6.00 am.’

  ‘Anything we can use?’

  ‘Hobbs is going to be a tough one to pin down. Jack Dell on the ot
her hand…’

  ‘What have you got on him?’

  ‘Not what. Who.’

  John smiled.

  ‘Alright, send me the details. I’ve got to take care of something this morning but as soon as I’m done we’re going after Dell.’

  ‘No problem,’ Fernali said. Then: ‘Your car is here, by the way.’

  ‘My car?’

  ‘You know, that big shiny thing with wheels that we left with its doors open under the Anzac Bridge last night.’

  ‘It must have been Alara. I’ll have to remember to thank her. That’s two I owe her.’

  ‘Right. Well, let me know when you’re done with whatever it is you’re doing so that we can get back to real police work.’

  ‘Will do.’

  John flicked his phone off. Leaning back into the cab’s rear seat, he absently watched Lauren out of the corner of his eye. It was all starting to come together in his head: Karl Hobbs, Qallan Frost, Jonathan Gage, the Iona Corporation and the elusive M-theory research. He only wished that he knew where Socrates was. He was going to need him before this was over.

  Thirty-One

  The cab pulled up outside Agostino Romano’s house. John paid the driver with his bitcoin card. Originally slow to be accepted, bitcoin gained popular acceptance during the Global Energy Crisis when people lost confidence in the central banks. It was now the preferred method of payment for everyday transactions.

  John stepped out. He held the door open for Lauren.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, exiting onto the kerb.

  John closed the door. The cab’s light came back on. It drove off down the quiet street. John turned to face the house.

  It was a red brick Californian bungalow with a white-gabled roof. The style of construction had been popular after World War I and the Italian community, in particular, had embraced it. Agostino Romano’s house was immaculately kept, with every shrub, every tree and every blade of grass clipped just so.

  ‘So whose house is this?’ Lauren asked.

  ‘A friend. His name is Agostino Romano. He helped us get you out of Council custody.’

  ‘I guess I should thank him then.’

  John smiled.

  ‘Yes. Behave yourself. We’re going to need his help to get you out of the city.’

  John rang the doorbell. The door opened a moment later. It was Agostino.

  ‘John, good to see you. I trust everything went alright last night?’ Agostino said, his voice low.

  ‘Yes and no. But we managed to get her out,’ John said. ‘This is Lauren, my ex-wife. Lauren, this is Agostino.’

  ‘Buongiorno. Please, come in, both of you.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  They walked through the house. The smell of tomatoes, basil and freshly grated cheese reached their nostrils as they passed the kitchen. Lauren’s stomach growled.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said. John looked at her.

  ‘What? I’m hungry. I haven’t had breakfast.’

  Agostino Romano laughed.

  ‘Don’t worry, bella. I’m sure we can find you something to eat.’

  Agostino motioned for them to take a seat in the living room. Then he ducked his head back into the hallway and called out.

  ‘Maria! Portare la colazione e il caffè. Grazie.’

  He returned to the living room and sat down in an oversized leather armchair. John sank into an identical chair opposite, while Lauren sat on the edge of the couch. The morning light was filtering through the stained-glass window, casting an orange glow over the room. The fireplace was covered in old photos: a young couple by the sea, the same couple in front of the Vatican, photos of older relatives, then photos of a baby boy, a baby girl; finally, a family photo so crowded with people they looked like the cast of a TV show that had run for ten seasons or more.

  ‘Thank you for your help. John tells me you were instrumental in orchestrating my release,’ Lauren said.

  Agostino nodded.

  ‘I was happy to help.’

  ‘Where did you get those old buses from? I don’t think I’ve seen an STA bus since I was a child,’ John asked.

  ‘I know some people who know some people. It’s amazing what people kept after the world switched to Flux Cells.’

  ‘Like barrels of oil?’

  ‘Yes. Old cars, buses, even trucks. Useless, of course, unless you also have the petrol to run them.’

  They were interrupted by the arrival of an older woman. John recognised her from his previous visit to the house.

  ‘Mi scusi,’ she said, slipping quietly into the room. She carried an antique silver tray. On it were several pieces of thick toasted bread, an assortment of cured meats, pieces of ripe melon and three small cups of espresso. She set the items out on the table one by one. Picking up the tray, she smiled and disappeared into the depths of the house.

  ‘Buon appetito,’ Agostino said.

  John and Lauren helped themselves while Agostino sipped his espresso. They ate and drank in silence for several minutes.

  ‘Agostino, you’ve helped us immensely,’ John said, having finished his espresso. ‘Now I’m afraid I need to ask you for one more thing.’

  ‘Name it, John.’

  ‘I need your help getting Lauren out of the city.’

  At that moment two things happened. First, John’s phone rang inside his suit pocket. Second, the front doorbell chimed.

  Thirty-Two

  The sound of the doorbell slowly faded away as it was absorbed into the house. A strange silence followed. John looked at Agostino. John’s phone continued to ring, low and urgent.

  ‘Expecting someone?’ John asked.

  Agostino shook his head.

  ‘No.’

  John reached inside his pocket and withdrew his phone. He flicked it open.

  ‘Tesh.’

  ‘It’s Fernali. Are you still in Five Dock?’

  ‘Yes. Why?’

  Silence. Then.

  ‘You might have a problem. Tech lab surveillance just picked up Jack Dell.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘He’s in Five Dock.’

  ‘Damn. He’s found us.’

  John looked around the room. Lauren looked worried. Agostino’s face was determined but his eyes flicked to where Maria had disappeared down the corridor.

  ‘How quickly can you get here?’ John asked.

  ‘Less than ten minutes.’

  ‘Anyone closer?’

  ‘No. Only regular police.’

  ‘Damn. Alright, get here. Now.’

  John flicked off his phone. He stood up. Reaching inside his suit pocket, he drew his handgun.

  ‘How many people in the house?’ he asked.

  ‘Apart from us, just Maria. She’s in the kitchen,’ Agostino replied.

  ‘How many ways in?’

  ‘Front and back doors. Plus all the windows.’

  ‘Alright, first we get Maria. Then we get out through the back.’

  Lauren and Agostino stood up.

  ‘What’s happening, John?’ Lauren asked.

  ‘Jack Dell. He works for Karl Hobbs. I had a run-in with him yesterday.’

  ‘Let me guess—he doesn’t like you very much.’

  ‘Well, Socrates did knock him and six of his men unconscious. So yes, he probably doesn’t like me very much.’

  ‘Where is Socrates?’

  ‘I wish I knew. Let’s move. Quick and quiet.’

  They made their way out into the corridor. John led the way. The doorbell rang two more times, the sound vibrating through the air. Then it was still.

  John walked slowly down the corridor, away from the front door. Pausing on the threshold to the kitchen, he leaned back against the wall. Lifting his hand up, he motioned for the others to wait. He raised his handgun to a firing position and stepped into the kitchen.

  ‘We meet again, Sentinel.’

  Thirty-Three

  John froze. He took in the scene in the kitchen. Jack Dell held a handgun to Ma
ria’s head. Three other men stood behind him. They were all dressed in black sports jackets and jeans. He couldn’t be sure if they were the same men that Socrates had knocked down before. The lack of any bruises suggested they probably weren’t.

  ‘Drop your weapon,’ Jack Dell said.

  John stared into his eyes, his hand never wavering. He held his handgun aimed squarely at Jack Dell’s head.

  ‘Don’t even think about it. I’ve got three more guys out front. You’ll never make it.’

  John reluctantly dropped his handgun. It struck the tiled floor and came to rest by the counter.

  ‘Ask your friends to join us,’ Jack Dell said.

  ‘Ask them yourself,’ John said.

  ‘You’re a tough bunch, you Sentinels. But you’re not as smart as you think you are.’ Jack Dell turned to one of his men. ‘Bring them in here.’

  The man drew his handgun and stepped into the corridor. Moments later he returned, herding Lauren and Agostino in front of him.

  ‘Maria!’ Agostino cried out.

  ‘Stay where you are and nothing will happen to her,’ Jack Dell said.

  ‘What do you want?’ John asked. In his head he was picturing Fernali and Streeter driving through peak-hour traffic. Their Sentinel override would ensure that they didn’t have to stop at any of the force field barriers. It would still take too long.

  ‘What I want is irrelevant. What my employer wants is what’s important.’

  ‘So what does your employer want?’

  ‘Where is Simone Greenberg?’

  John smiled. They still thought that Simone knew where Walter Menzies’s research was. If only they knew the truth about her.

  ‘Something funny, Sentinel?’

  ‘Actually, yes.’

  ‘Care to share it with the rest of us?’

  ‘Not really.’ John’s smile disappeared. ‘How’s Jason these days?’

  Jack Dell visibly flinched.

  ‘How do you know about Jason?’