by Thomas Fay
‘I’m looking for something and I understand you can help me find it. A flash drive. It’s about this size.’ She measured out the shape of the flash drive with her fingers.
‘Why do you want it?’
‘Oh, it’s not for me. My father asked me to retrieve it for him. He’s not really the sort of man you say no to.’
‘Your father?’
‘Yes, Qallan Frost. You may have heard of him. Chairman of the Iona Corporation. Now tell me. Where is it?’
‘Karl Hobbs has it.’
‘And where’s Hobbs?’
Veronica said nothing.
‘C’mon, Veronica. You were doing so well. Don’t stop now.’
‘Fine! He’s heading for the airport. He’s going to take the research and get out of Iona. You’ll never get to him in time.’
‘There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?’ Simone said. Straightening up, she turned to John. ‘We’ve got to hurry.’
‘Let’s go,’ John said. They raced out into the corridor, dodging the bodies strewn across the corridor. All of them looked in poor shape. Socrates packed quite a punch. They reached the stairs. Taking them two at a time, they emerged into the side street soon after. Socrates got behind the wheel and they accelerated down the street.
‘If he leaves Iona we may never find him,’ Simone said.
‘I know. Are we sure she was telling the truth about where he’s going?’ John asked.
‘Yes. She wouldn’t lie to me.’
‘What is the deal with you two?’
‘We had a bit of a run in while I was working with Walter Menzies.’
‘And…?’
‘Let’s just say she figured out pretty quickly that I wasn’t someone she wanted as an enemy.’
‘Fair enough. Socrates, step on it.’
‘Yes, John. Although without the benefit of the Sentinel override I believe we will find it difficult to achieve this vehicle’s maximum speed.’
‘Just do what you can. Let’s hope the Ruling Council doesn’t respond to the call at my apartment, otherwise this is going to get very messy, very quickly.’
John had a sudden thought. Pulling out his phone, he inserted the battery and switched it back on. Then he dialled the Chief’s number.
‘Tesh? Where the hell have you been?’ the Chief answered the phone.
‘No time, Chief. Are you still in lockdown at HQ?’
‘Yes. They’ve recalled all Sentinels and we’ve been stuck here since yesterday. What’s going on?’
‘I’ll explain once it’s over but I need your help.’
‘What do you need?’
‘I need you to create a diversion at HQ and keep the Ruling Council occupied.’
‘I’ll see what I can do. When this is over you and I are going to have a long talk.’
John cringed.
‘Can’t wait, Chief.’
John flicked his phone off.
‘You realise you just gave away our location to the Ruling Council, don’t you?’ Simone said.
‘I know. We’re going to need their help to stop Hobbs from getting away. We need them to lock down the airport.’
‘Wouldn’t it have been easier to just say we were going to the airport?’ Simone asked.
John turned to look at her.
‘You can’t just tell someone what you want them to hear. You need them to piece it together, otherwise they won’t believe it.’
‘If you say so.’
Seventy-Three
The E5 supercar flew down the M1 motorway. Socrates’s driving skills were second to none as he overtook cars, trucks and buses at high speed. In some instances his timing was so precise that he missed hitting the cars he was overtaking by centimetres. In one particular manoeuvre, Socrates overtook a series of slow-moving sedans by sliding the E5 across two lanes, dropping behind a truck—which he skirted by less than the width of a side-view mirror—and then accelerating along the other side.
John watched the traffic flow past them with a sense of detachment. His mind was putting together the final pieces of the puzzle that had been unfolding before them since they had responded to the call on Thursday morning. The image of the broken Council operative’s visor haunted his thoughts. It was the only thing he still didn’t fully understand, although he was beginning to suspect the truth. It was an improbable, impossible truth but what he had seen over the course of the last two days made him believe it to be the truth.
‘I’m surprised Gage hasn’t sent anyone after us,’ Simone said. She was seated in the middle of the back seat. She seemed completely unfazed by their high-speed dash through evening traffic.
John snapped out of his reverie.
‘What?’
‘I said I’m surprised Gage hasn’t sent anyone after us.’
‘I suspect they responded to the report of gunfire at my apartment first. Then when I made the call they would have had to trace my phone and determine where we were heading. I hope they’re getting a move on, otherwise Hobbs will get away.’
‘You want them to catch us?’
‘No, I want them to lock down the airport. It’s our only way of stopping Hobbs from leaving Iona with the flash drive.’
‘You seriously couldn’t think of anything better?’
‘Hey, it’ll work. Trust me. I’ve—’
John’s word’s died on his lips as the air was pushed out of his lungs by the force of deceleration. Socrates had slammed the brakes on as the red-light force-field barrier on Mill Pond Road sprang up without warning. The E5’s brakes were a marvel of engineering. Cross-drilled and vented discs the size of the twenty inch wheels, the brake pads were made of a refined graphene composite. The car’s acceleration was outdone only by its stopping ability. They came to a complete stop two seconds after Socrates had put his foot down, two metres from the red-light force-field barrier. Other motorists were not as fortunate, as their slower human reflexes and inferior brakes meant they ended up ploughing into the shimmering force field barriers.
‘Christ, what happened?’ John asked, coughing.
‘The red-light force-field barrier has been activated,’ Socrates said.
‘Did the light change?’
‘No.’
‘It’s Gage,’ Simone said. She was bleeding from a cut above her right eye where her head had struck the back of John’s seat. ‘He’s locked down the city. He’s finally done it, the lunatic. He could have killed hundreds of people.’
‘You mean he’s activated all of the force field barriers?’ John asked.
‘Yes. The city is in complete lockdown. It’s a protocol reserved for cataclysmic events. I’m talking supreme acts of God here. It was never intended to be used to catch a single person,’ Simone said.
John unbuckled his seatbelt. His ribs had been crushed by the belt when Socrates had braked. They felt worse than when he had been hit by the Council operative beneath the Harbour Bridge.
‘C’mon, let’s go. We’ll need to go the rest of the way on foot,’ he said.
‘Are you injured, John?’ Socrates asked.
‘It’s not serious. Simone, are you okay?’
‘It’s just a small cut. I’ll be fine,’ Simone said.
‘Let’s go.’
They exited the E5, leaving the doors to one of the world’s most expensive supercars unlocked. John took a few uncertain steps. He shook his head to clear his vision. He took a few deep breaths. His ribs protested in pain but they appeared to remain unbroken despite the continual punishment they had received.
‘The private jets are just up the road. That’s where Hobbs will be,’ John said.
‘How can you be sure?’ Simone asked. She dabbed at the cut on her forehead, trying to stop the blood flow.
‘He’s one of the richest people in Iona and he wants to get away quickly without attracting Ruling Council attention. He’ll be taking a private jet.’
‘Good point.’
They set off at a half-run along the street. C
ars, trucks and buses were backed up for kilometres, with many involved in multiple-vehicle collisions. All the red-light force-field barriers shimmered in the red glow of the traffic lights. People’s cries for help and curses blended into a cacophony of sound. No one noticed the three of them slip through a gap in the fence and cross onto the airport grounds. The sky above had darkened to night.
Seventy-Four
The private jet terminal allowed those wealthy enough to use it to enjoy a range of benefits. Foremost of those was the ability to drive straight up to their plane and avoid the tedious and time-consuming queues normally associated with air travel. A small lounge area opened onto the tarmac where two jets stood. One was a Gulfstream VII, a tri-engine Flux-Cell-powered corporate jet designed to carry twenty people in comfort across long distances. The other was a Learjet 200 dual-engine Flux-Cell-powered business jet designed for sixteen passengers. A black sedan was parked next to the Learjet. Four men with black suit jackets and jeans stood near the jet’s boarding steps.
‘That’s Hobbs’s plane,’ John said. The three of them were crouched beside the private jet terminal, inside the secure fencing.
‘Those four do look familiar,’ Simone said.
‘Yes. Those bodyguards look like the cowboys that Socrates knocked down the stairs at the Dolphin Hotel when Jack Dell tried to accost you.’
‘How do you want to do this?’
‘Socrates and I will sneak around and take them out. We get to Hobbs, retrieve the flash drive and get out of here before the Ruling Council shows up.’
‘What am I supposed to do?’
‘Wait here. I don’t want you getting hit by a stray shot.’
Simone smiled.
‘Nice to see you care.’
John smiled back.
‘Of course I care. How would I ever explain to Qallan Frost that I let his daughter get shot?’
Simone’s smile vanished to be replaced by a frown.
‘Great, thanks.’
‘I’m just kidding,’ John said. ‘Do you need a weapon?’
Simone reached into her pocket. She withdrew a small handgun.
‘Guess not.’
‘Get going. Hobbs may try to get away once he realises they’ve locked down the airport.’
John turned to Socrates.
‘Let’s go. Along the fence line and then behind that storage container near the other plane. We should be able to take them out from there.’
‘Do you want me to disable them?’ the android asked.
‘Preferably, but we’ll shoot if necessary.’
‘Very well.’
They moved off, half crouching, towards the fence. Skirting behind several storage containers they emerged back onto the tarmac beside the Gulfstream. John flattened himself on the ground. From his vantage point he could see the legs of the four bodyguards under the Learjet. He pulled out his handgun. Motioning to Socrates, he rolled to a standing position and sprinted across the tarmac. Rounding the nose of the plane, he raised his weapon to a firing position and shouted.
‘Sentinel—freeze!’
The four bodyguards turned as one. Two of them reached inside their jacket pockets. John shot the first one, sending him sprawling backwards into the black sedan. The second managed to draw his weapon. Behind him his two comrades were flung aside as Socrates charged into their midst. He grabbed the remaining gunman from behind, pushing his weapon into the air. A single shot discharged into the night sky. Then Socrates disarmed him and knocked him unconscious.
‘Wait here. Keep any eye out for company,’ John said. He turned and ran up the ramp. Raising his handgun, he stepped inside the well-appointed luxury cabin. Karl Hobbs was the only passenger. He looked up from his heavily upholstered beige leather couch, a look of concern on his face.
‘Where is it?’ John demanded.
Hobbs instinctively grabbed his jacket pocket.
‘Sentinel, listen to me. You don’t know what you’re doing. They’re not what you think they are!’ Hobbs pleaded.
‘Give me the flash drive!’ John held his gun pointed at Hobbs as he moved closer. Reaching inside the man’s suit pocket, he withdrew the flash drive. It was a standard 5 terabyte flash drive, available at any computer hardware or office supply store. The only difference was the information this one contained was priceless.
‘Don’t do this, I beg you! That research represents our only chance at freeing ourselves from Iona!’
‘I know. I’ve seen what they are. I also know there’s only one person who can save us now and that isn’t you.’
Hobbs’s expression changed to one of surprise.
‘You’ve seen what they are?’
‘Yes. I was attacked by a Council operative. I managed to overpower him. In the struggle his visor was broken. What I saw beneath was…’
‘So you know the truth. How can you still help them?’
‘Because I don’t know the whole truth. I also know that Councillor Jonathan Gage must be stopped; otherwise this city of six million people will be forced to pay the price. He’s already locked down the city with the force field barriers. He’s authorised Council operatives to use deadly force. I can only imagine the suffering he can cause. The only person who can end that suffering is Qallan Frost.’
‘But he’s their leader. He’s the one who invented the Flux Cell. Don’t you see that he’s using you?’
‘I know, but I also realise I don’t have a choice at this point. I have to help him in order to save this city and I’ve got to do it before it’s too late.’
John stood up. He could see that Hobbs wanted to say something else but, seeing the look of grim determination on John’s face, Hobbs decided against it. He nodded slightly. John walked back down the ramp to where Socrates was waiting.
‘Did you retrieve the flash drive?’ Socrates asked.
‘Yes. Let’s get it to Frost before the Ruling Council shows up.’
‘Understood. I will—’
Socrates was sent flying backwards across the tarmac and into a storage container near the fence by an azure beam of energy. A Ruling Council transport ship dropped out of the sky. Its quad engines glowed a deep crimson as it levelled out a metre above the tarmac. Four Council operatives leapt out.
‘Socrates!’ John shouted. The storage container had collapsed in on itself from where the azure beam had passed through it. A faint glint of metal was visible within its shattered remains.
‘Drop your weapon!’ the Council operatives commanded. John turned around. He looked at the transport ship. Then he looked at the Council operatives. He stared at their reflective visors, picturing what lay beneath. He dropped his handgun to the ground.
‘I surrender,’ he said.
One of the Council operatives stepped forward and struck him full in the face with his weapon.
Seventy-Five
John’s face exploded with pain. The world spun around him and he dropped to his knees. Another blow from the Council operative brought him to the ground, blood flowing freely down his face. Dark shapes swam before his eyes as he tried to raise himself up.
‘Stay down, Sentinel,’ the Council operative ordered as he raised his weapon.
John gave up struggling and dropped to the tarmac, his face pressed against the cold ground. He could just make out Simone’s figure crouched beside the private jet terminal. He silently willed her to stay out of sight. His head was pounding as blood from his nose dripped onto the tarmac. His vision began to dim.
‘John Tesh, your status and authority as a Sentinel are hereby revoked under the express authority of Councillor Jonathan Gage,’ the Council operative said. ‘You are in possession of an item of high value. Surrender it now.’
John felt the outline of the flash drive through his jacket pocket. It was the key to this. People had killed for Walter Menzies’s research. It all came down to this.
‘Tell Gage he can shove it,’ John said. He raised himself up. Two of the Council operatives moved clo
ser. The ruined storage container was directly behind them. One of them leaned closer. John saw himself reflected in the Council operative’s visor. His own face was a bloody mess. His nose was almost definitely broken.
‘Where is the research?’ the Council operative demanded.
‘Go to hell!’ John spat.
The Council operative pulled back. He raised his weapon ready to strike John an almost certainly lethal blow. John braced himself to roll to the side. Everything hurt. The operative’s weapon descended in slow motion, cutting a wide arc through the air. John pushed himself off the tarmac. He knew he would be too slow. He would never make it.
A flicker of movement behind the Council operative caught his eye. Then Socrates rose from the remains of the ruined storage container. His skin was burned to a blackened husk. A gleaming metallic endoskeleton shone through underneath. He turned his metallic face towards John. Then he moved.
John felt himself being pulled aside as the two Council operatives closest to him were sent flying into the Learjet’s fuselage. Their helmets shattered and they dropped to the tarmac like broken rag dolls. Socrates moved on to the other two. They raised their weapons and fired point blank. The bullets bounced off his metallic endoskeleton, stripping away the blackened remains of his artificial skin. Reaching them, he knocked them both to the ground.
‘Socrates! The transport ship!’ John shouted.
The android spun around. The Ruling Council transport ship had lifted into the air. Holding position twenty metres off the ground, its arc cannons began to power up.
‘Get down, John!’ Simone shouted as she ducked under the Learjet. Throwing her arms around him she pulled him down to the tarmac, beside Hobbs’s car.
Socrates faced the transport ship. Holding his arms out to the sides of his body, his metallic hands split apart, shedding the last remnants of his artificial skin. In the place of his hands pulsed twin arc cannons. A high-pitched sound pierced the air as the arc cannons spun at over a million revolutions per second, accelerating the plasma contained within his metallic forearms. The transport ship began to lift into the air. Socrates raised his arms. Then he fired.
