Socrates and the Sentinel

by Thomas Fay

  Fifty-Two

  The safe house was located on the Lower North Shore, in the suburb of Mosman. Positioned on the cliff overlooking Middle Harbour, it commanded sweeping views of the water all the way out to the Heads. The house itself was an architecturally designed split-level home built in the early 2000s. It was tastefully decorated. The colour scheme was warm and inviting, if a little on the conservative side. It felt more like the neutral interior of many hotel rooms than a multi-million dollar waterfront property.

  ‘Storm’s finally cleared,’ Fernali said. They were seated in the main living area. A large panoramic viewing window showed the dark clouds moving out to sea as the sun climbed into the sky on the opposite side.

  ‘You’re sure nobody knows about this place?’ John asked.

  ‘I’m sure,’ Simone said.

  ‘Good. At least we’re in the clear for the moment.’

  ‘What’s our next move?’ Fernali asked.

  ‘We need to go and see Daniel Holstein. We also need to get in touch with the Chief.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because he’s our only way of finding Qallan Frost.’

  ‘There’s no way we can get into Sentinel HQ.’

  ‘Maybe we don’t have to. We just need to trace the Chief’s phone calls. I think I know someone who can help us with that.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘One of our techs, Gleason.’

  ‘Wouldn’t they have locked the tech lab down as well?’

  Simone shook her head.

  ‘Not necessarily. The Ruling Council would have enacted their emergency powers to recall all Sentinels to HQ. Their key objective would have been getting all active Sentinels off the streets. I don’t think they would have been very concerned by technical staff.’

  John nodded.

  ‘Some good news, finally.’

  ‘Not really. There’s still no way for us to access the tech lab, or are you forgetting about the surveillance and scanners at the parking lot, entrance lobby and turbo-lifts?’ Fernali said.

  ‘Good point. We’ll have to catch Gleason outside the office then,’ John said.

  ‘What about Walter Menzies’s research? Should our number-one priority not be securing the research before Councillor Jonathan Gage acquires it?’ Socrates asked.

  ‘The research is safe for now,’ John said.

  The others turned to look at him.

  ‘How do you figure that?’ Fernali asked.

  ‘Think about it—would everyone be chasing us if they knew where it was?’

  ‘Well…no, but it does suggest they think that we have it.’

  ‘Good. Let them think that. As long as they do, then it’s safe.’

  ‘Christ, that’s your plan?’ Fernali asked.

  ‘Do you have a better one?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Okay then. Now, we really need to get Socrates to Professor Holstein and see if he can get rid of whatever it is that’s preventing Socrates from acting against members of the Ruling Council, and I suspect, the Iona Corporation. We also need to figure out where Qallan Frost is.’

  ‘What about Streeter?’ Fernali asked.

  ‘Damn, I completely forgot. Where is he?’

  ‘He’s at a private clinic in Glebe. We should get him out before the Ruling Council figures out he’s not at HQ.’

  John turned to Simone.

  ‘Any chance they would simply ignore him, given he’s been injured?’

  ‘No,’ Simone said, shaking her head. ‘They’ll go after him just to be safe. They can’t afford to have any unaccounted-for active Sentinels running around.’

  ‘Alright. Fernali, you go get Streeter. Socrates, go with him.’

  ‘Are you sure, John?’ Socrates asked.

  ‘I know it’s not the best idea but I’m not sending Fernali out there alone. You’re still our best bet in any confrontation and at least if you freeze up, he’ll know there are Council operatives about.’

  ‘Great,’ Fernali said. ‘That really fills me with a lot of confidence.’

  John laughed. His ribs protested again.

  ‘Seriously, get going.’

  ‘We’ll let you know as soon as we’ve got Streeter,’ Fernali said. He stood up and picked up his jacket. He and Socrates walked out of the living room. The sound of the garage door opening could be heard moments later. Then they were gone.

  ‘Just the two of us,’ Simone said. Her green eyes stared straight at John. She sat on the couch, her legs pulled up under her.

  ‘Yes. There’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while now,’ John said.

  ‘Which is?’

  John stood up. He took a step towards Simone.

  ‘Simone?’

  ‘Yes, John?’

  He leaned forward. His face was inches away from hers. He reached out with his arms. In one swift motion he pulled his handgun out of his jacket, which was hanging over the back of the couch. He stepped back and aimed the weapon at Simone.

  ‘What I wanted to do was ask you just how dumb you really think we are?’

  Fifty-Three

  The fight-or-flight response is something innate in all animals. When faced with a dangerous situation the body releases a number of hormones that speed up the heart rate and decrease digestion, resulting in blood flow being diverted towards major muscle groups. This provides a burst of energy and strength to allow the animal to either fight or take flight. It is one of the most basic survival instincts in human beings. Having a powerful handgun pointed directly at you by a Sentinel would have elicited such a response from most people. Simone Greenberg merely smiled.

  ‘What do you mean, John?’ she asked.

  ‘Since this investigation started I’ve been running around the city chasing slivers of clues. I’ve come into direct confrontation with Councillor Jonathan Gage. I’ve also been alerted to Karl Hobbs’s illicit dealings. Then I end up in a firefight with advanced technology, in which my only friend on the Ruling Council is conveniently killed. I somehow survive a confrontation with heavily armed operatives only to end up in a safe house set up by Qallan Frost.’

  John took a deep breath. His ribs were hurting again.

  ‘The one factor that I keep coming back to is you, Simone. Your appearances have been too convenient, too well-orchestrated to be coincidence. Walter Menzies’s house leading us to the research. The Dolphin Hotel, which led us to Karl Hobbs. Then the Lancing Tower parking lot that led us to the confrontation with the transport ships. Now this safe house.’

  Simone continued to stare at him, her green eyes opened wide.

  ‘I already know you were sent by Qallan Frost but it’s more than that, isn’t it? You know where he is. In fact, you’re in constant contact with him and you’ve been acting out his agenda. The only thing I don’t understand fully is why? What is the point to all of this?’

  Simone straightened her legs and leaned forward.

  ‘The stories about you are true, John. You really are the foremost investigator in Iona and certainly worthy of carrying the Sentinel badge. Yes, Qallan Frost has been orchestrating events from behind the scenes. He’s been helping you whenever he can.’

  ‘Why did he leave the Ruling Council? Couldn’t all of this have been avoided if he had never allowed Gage to gain control?’

  ‘No. Frost had to leave because a greater threat than Gage had materialised. It was one we knew would eventually appear, which is why we monitored research developments in energy manipulation and transference so closely. We never envisaged someone would advance the theories to practical testing so quickly.’

  ‘But somebody did.’

  ‘Yes. We hadn’t counted on someone like Karl Hobbs backing a researcher of Walter Menzies’s calibre and connections. It took a phenomenal amount of money and resources to advance the theories to practical application.’

  ‘We still don’t know if the final test was successful, if the technology actually works.’

  ‘Why else would any
of this be happening? No, John. The technology works. It’s years, if not decades, away from practical application but it works. Which is why it’s critical that we regain the research.’

  ‘Sounds to me like you just want to make sure that you maintain your monopoly on clean energy.’

  Simone shook her head.

  ‘No, John. You don’t understand. The technology in its current experimental form is not only unsuitable for practical application, it’s also very dangerous. If anyone tried to use it the results would be cataclysmic.’

  ‘How am I supposed to believe you?’

  ‘You have to make up your own mind. But consider this—would I really be here if we weren’t trying to help you?’

  John lowered his handgun. Checking the safety, he placed it on the table. His ribs were getting worse. He sat down on the couch opposite Simone.

  ‘You want to know where the research is,’ he said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ll get it for you, but I need something in return.’

  ‘What do you need?’

  ‘I need to speak to Qallan Frost.’

  Fifty-Four

  Simone stood up. Her red hair dropped down her back as she walked into the kitchen. John found himself marvelling at her beauty once again. She was more than the girl next door. She was the girl next door that would one day become a screen idol. She was that good looking. More than that, she was intelligent, driven and manipulative. A lot like his ex-wife, Lauren. The two would have either gotten along very well or hated each other from the moment they met. John wasn’t sure which outcome would have made his life worse.

  ‘It’s me,’ Simone said. She had retrieved her phone and dialled a number. ‘I’m at the safe house. He’s here. No, they went to get a Sentinel that was injured earlier. No, I don’t think so. He wants to talk to you. Okay.’

  Simone handed the phone to John.

  ‘Hello?’ John said.

  ‘Hello, John. I understand you wanted to speak to me?’ The voice on the other end was that of an older man. It was slightly ragged, as if the speaker were out of breath, yet at the same time confident. It was the voice of one used to being heard. John could picture the seventy-five year old Qallan Frost from footage he had seen. His grey hair, his wrinkled brow, the penetrating stare from the deep-set blue eyes. It was a face everyone on the planet knew. The face the world recognised as their saviour.

  ‘Yes, you could say that,’ John said.

  ‘You have questions,’ Qallan Frost said.

  ‘Just one, really. Why?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why have you been manipulating me from the start?’

  For a moment the most powerful and influential man on the planet said nothing. When he spoke again, John could almost hear him smiling.

  ‘Very good, John. I knew I made the right choice when I had you assigned to this case.’

  ‘You had me assigned?’

  John recalled the Chief referring to conversations with Qallan Frost. It all made sense now.

  ‘Yes. I needed someone who could piece together the clues I left behind and follow them to their inevitable conclusion.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Now that, my dear boy, would be telling. Suffice to say, by now you will have glimpsed what lies beneath the facade of the Ruling Council, seen what Councillor Jonathan Gage is capable of and witnessed the power of the Council’s weapons.’

  ‘Alara Green is dead.’

  ‘Yes, John, I know. Her death was a terrible tragedy and a blow to our cause. Thankfully Simone managed to get you to the safe house. Trust her, John. She is there to help you.’

  Simone stood in the centre of the living room, her hands at her sides. Her green eyes looked at John. She smiled.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’ John asked.

  ‘Follow your instincts, John. I have pointed you on the path to uncovering the truth. Now, it’s up to you.’

  ‘Alright. So what’s in it for you? What do you want out of this?’

  Qallan Frost laughed. It was a warm, reassuring sound.

  ‘You truly are perceptive, John. But that again, as they say, would be telling. Suffice to say that you have already done much to help me and, in turn, this great city. Finish the task. Find who killed Walter Menzies. Bring his research to me.’

  ‘Where can I find you?’

  The phone went dead. John checked the screen. The call had been ended from the other side. He closed the lid.

  ‘Well, that was interesting,’ John said.

  ‘I hope Frost was able to assuage your fears,’ Simone said.

  ‘Yes, to some degree.’

  John sank back into the couch. His ribs were throbbing as was his head. He took a few deep breaths. The room began to spin. He felt himself losing consciousness.

  ‘John?’

  ‘John, are you alright?’

  ‘Can you hear me?’

  Simone’s voice faded into nothingness.

  Fifty-Five

  John regained consciousness with a start. Gasping, he sat up. Simone was seated next to him on the couch. Her eyes were opened wide in concern. She held a damp cloth to his forehead. Seeing that he was awake, she removed it.

  ‘Take it easy,’ she said.

  ‘I’m okay,’ John said. He rubbed his ribs. They hurt less now. His head was clearer. ‘I think I was just tired. It’s been a crazy few days.’

  Simone smiled. Her hand rested gently on his forearm. She brought the damp cloth up and wiped his face with it. John let her.

  ‘You’re reckless and your methods are very unorthodox,’ Simone said.

  ‘So I’ve been told.’

  ‘You rush headfirst into situations without thinking.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve heard that before too.’

  Simone put the damp cloth down on the table.

  ‘John?’

  ‘Yes, Simone?’

  ‘There’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while now as well.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘This.’

  She leaned in and kissed him. Her lips were soft and supple against his. He reached out and pulled her closer. His bruised ribs protested as her body touched his but he ignored them. In fact, he barely felt the pain as he savoured the sensation of kissing her. They pulled apart after a while.

  ‘I guess I should apologise for pulling my gun on you before,’ John said.

  Simone caressed his face with her hand. She looked closely at him.

  ‘I don’t blame you, John. You’re caught in the middle of a massive power struggle for control of the foremost corporation on the planet and I suppose I haven’t been entirely honest with you from the start.’

  ‘No, you really haven’t,’ John replied. He kissed her again. For some reason he couldn’t stop himself. The pain in his ribs finally forced him to pull away.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Simone asked.

  ‘Still a bit sore. Those Council operatives pack quite a punch,’ John replied. He rubbed his ribs. From past experience he knew they would be sore for at least a week.

  ‘So, I guess you can’t really…’

  John smiled.

  ‘No, probably not right now.’

  ‘Probably for the best,’ Simone said. She stood up. Her red hair fell around her shoulders. ‘Don’t want to put an old guy like you out of commission permanently. We still need you.’

  ‘Hey!’ John protested with a laugh.

  Simone smiled. She walked over to the holotelevision. Waving her hand in an arc, she activated the motion sensor and the three holoprojectors sprang to life. An older woman, dressed in an expensive couture garment, appeared in the holofield.

  ‘Emergency crews are still cleaning up in the aftermath of the storm today. Damage has been widespread, with over one hundred calls for assistance across the city. We’ll continue to keep you updated but now we have a special announcement from the Ruling Council.’

  The image of the well-dressed woman disappeared. In her place
appeared a man in his mid-fifties with silvery hair and deep frown lines. His ice cold eyes stared straight ahead as he delivered his message.

  ‘Citizens of Iona, I am Councillor Jonathan Gage. As of this morning I have assumed leadership of the Ruling Council.’

  ‘This can’t be good,’ John said. He sat up. Simone sat down next to him.

  ‘Today marks a new day for the great city of Iona,’ Jonathan Gage continued. ‘This city has benefited from the benevolence of the Iona Corporation and its revolutionary Flux Cell technology for almost a decade. Under our leadership you have known prosperity and a high standard of living. We have made this a safe city with implementation of force field barriers to prevent vehicular accidents. Crime is at an all-time low with the Sentinels and Ruling Council operatives working tirelessly to keep you safe. Transportation is affordable. The energy you take for granted to power your homes and your lives we provide. For all this we have asked nothing but your co-operation and support.’

  ‘I’m really not liking where this is going,’ John said.

  ‘Today all of that changes, for I make this announcement to ask something of you. This is your opportunity to give back for all the freedoms and benefits you have enjoyed. I ask you to help us find a band of fugitives from justice. If you have any information on these people you should call the number on your display immediately. Together we can make this city a safe and prosperous one.’

  Jonathan Gage’s form vanished to be replaced by a series of file photographs. They were, from left to right; John Tesh, Socrates, Michael Fernali and James Streeter.

  ‘Oh, come on!’ John exclaimed.

  Fifty-Six

  Simone waved her arm and the holotelevision switched off. The ghostly images of the four Sentinels maintained cohesion for a microsecond. Then the photons comprising them dissipated as the holobeams vanished. John stared at the space they had occupied for a full sixty seconds before he stood up. Ignoring the pain in his ribs he walked across the room. Retrieving his phone from his jacket, he dialled Fernali.