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  Sir Thomas cleared his throat and said, “This is how he has been since he requested to see you. He’s in the White Room in the Deep. The White Room is a new development here and we only use it in extreme cases. This one qualifies. Basically you feel as if you’re in a cloud, with no sense of depth or orientation. You wake up sitting on that chair without a floor beneath your feet. It’s experimental but so far we’ve had good results. So far that is until Mr Jibril Muraz. He’s resisted Truth Treatment which is highly unusual with all that rubbish about being an alien, and he has obviously penetrated our information systems because of the data loss. So irrespective of the sixteen criminals who are now scattered around the universe – and we haven’t a clue who or where they are – the fact that this Jibril Muraz is in our systems is enough cause for huge concern. We need you to bring all your skills to bear as a negotiator and draw him out, get him to speak.”

  I waited for Sir Thomas to continue and when he didn’t, I asked, “Do I have to conduct the interview in the White Room?” There it was, my final acceptance that I had to take this role, but then I’d really accepted the instant I heard he’d asked for me. My mind flashed a quick image of Cochran and I pushed it away. Focus.

  “No, but we would prefer it if you did.”

  I took out my Devstick and looking at the case file information, said, “According to this, the timing between his request for a meeting with me and the sudden disappearance of all of his related data was almost instantaneous. That couldn’t have been a planned coincidence – wouldn’t that indicate that he has an accomplice?”

  “Yes, that’s possible and our current most likely scenario. That or he planted a data time bomb and counted, which we haven’t ruled out. Either way the implications are extremely serious.”

  “Yes, I understand. Is it possible that his accomplice is still in the system and watching us?”

  “Yes, it is possible and there is a risk.”

  I turned to face Sir Thomas and he studied me with his serious look and said, “If his accomplice is in the systems he may be able to manipulate the building’s various alarms and defenses. We have our best digital trace and infrastructure people on this but they still haven’t been able to detect the source of the deleted data, so….”

  Just leaving that ‘so’ dangling like that didn’t give me much comfort at this sudden turn of events. The day was not improving.

  “What defenses and alarms are we talking about?”

  “Well in a worst case scenario, paralyzing sound will be released, nerve gas will flood the room and the partition between you and the prisoner will rise while the door to the room will stay locked.”

  “I see.”

  “I want you to take a stun device with you as protection. Both of you would most probably be unconscious the sec anything happened but just in case, as a purely precautionary measure, I’d feel more comfortable if you took the stun gun.”

  He pulled open a drawer in his very traditional battleship of a desk, took out a black, squat-looking device and laid it on the dark green blotter in front of him. It seemed out of place in this antique throwback of an office. Even his title was antique, one of the last Knighthoods given for services to the Realm before that Realm was merged with all others after the Last Great War of 2056. He was just twenty-one years old when knighted by the King of England.

  I had never had to take a weapon to a meeting before. It was a strange feeling, a feeling I didn’t enjoy. Like most humans I despise violence in any form, and apart from the very occasional hormone inspired scuffles of my youth, had never experienced it in its physical form.

  “I’d rather not. I want to go in naked, as he is. Either that or clothe him before our interview,” I said, and swiveled in thechair to face Sir Thomas directly.

  Sir Thomas sat back in his Siteazy and frowned, lifting a hand to stroke his slightly dimpled, fleshy chin.

  My arguments mentally assembled to convince him that what I was proposing made sense, but he interrupted my thoughts by saying, “All right. No stun gun and you go in naked.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I said, nodding to him in acknowledgement of his acquiescence.

  “Not at all Jonah – thank you. We’ll be monitoring everything that goes on and at the first sign of any trouble we’ll get you out. I’ve put a Special Ops team on standby and they’ll be outside the door to the room.” Sir Thomas stood up and held out his hand smiling. Most of us don’t shake hands anymore: we’ve borrowed the practice of ‘wai’ from the Thai and Indian cultures, but everything about Sir Thomas is antique, including his handshake. I took his hand, shaking firmly. His palm felt sweaty in my grip, and I resisted the urge to wipe my palm on my trouser leg.

  Leaving Sir Thomas’s office, the path under my feet lit the way to the nearest Lev ports. I followed the directional arrows, their subtle light blinking direction in time with my steps.

  The Lev politely enquired, “Where do you wish to go, Arbitrator Oliver?”

  “Er yes, take me to Jibril Muraz. And I want to travel off-line please.”

  “Certainly Arbitrator Oliver, eight minutes to destination,” the Lev said as the Lev capsule started to move. I sat down. You couldn’t really feel it moving, but the portal on the Devscreen next to the Lev door changed from the spinning UN icon to show how the capsule was moving through the complex. Only newer buildings have Levs; the older buildings still have the Lev’s forefather, the elevator. A touch of the keypad or voice instruction could display your position relative to the universe if you really wanted to know that or simply your exact location on Earth. It could also display others traveling around you. Useful when you’re lonely and looking for company, but right now I wanted to travel incognito, as far as I could be incognito when all those I reported to, and a fair few I didn’t, could track my tag in a milsec if they wanted to. The portal showed I was about five hundred meters from surface and tracking deeper, as well as in an easterly direction from my uncle’s office.

  “Destination is now estimated to be reached in approximately six minutes, Arbitrator Oliver.”

  Six minutes. My thoughts were still flashing across the inside of my forehead. I could feel them. My temples started to throb. Six minutes and I’m there. It wasn’t much time and usually I’d prepare for days, even months before a meeting, but there was no time. I took out my Devstick and reviewed the data that I had copied earlier. There wasn’t much but what there was I read three times. The Lev spoke again.

  “Arrived at destination, Arbitrator Oliver. Have a good day.”

  I rose from the Biosense chair in the Lev capsule a calm man. I felt like I could use a really strong alky, but I was calm.

  Chapter 3

  The Runner

  UNPOL Headquarters, The Deep, Level 10 Corridor, White Room

  Thursday 5 December 2109, 12:45pm +8 UTC

  Stepping out of the Lev that had brought me from Sir Thomas’s office on the 244th floor of UNPOL headquarters just below Topside, I was now at the lowest level in New Singapore – Level Ten. The Deep. Apart from the lack of sky ports, the corridor looked almost like the one I had just left, except this one had no carpet. But then it wasn’t an executive floor. I smoothed the suit I was wearing. Finest Italian wool, if a bit rumpled, as it was the same one I’d attended Milo’s leaving party in. I straightened my back and traced the directional lighting with a firm step leading me towards the prisoner Jibril Muraz.

  The Special Ops team, wearing full body armor, gas masks and black ear protectors, were standing in a group, all eight of them. The directional lights stopped about a meter in front of where the group was standing. I stopped in front of them and took off my upper outer, laying it on the floor. Then the upper inner and I was bare-chested. I could just see through the masks that three of the team were female. I stripped the rest of my clothes off and stood naked in front of them. One of the females deliberately tilted her face mask down to look at my crotch and then, looking up at me, smiled and gave me a thumbs up. She made me fe
el better and I grinned in spite of the situation. The group leader also gave me a thumbs up and I realized that it meant I was good to go.

  I turned to face a door. You could only tell it was a door because of its slightly different shade of color to the rest of the elongated tube I’d been walking in. I stepped up to the eye level Dev and said, “Arbitrator Jonah James Oliver.” Forcing myself not to pay attention to that quiver in my voice, I stood straighter and held my eyes open as the scan was done. The door swished open.

  I took a step forward and found myself in white space. The room was entirely white, a matt white. I couldn’t tell where floor, walls or ceilings began or ended – it was like being in a cloud. I turned to my left and saw at the opposite end of the room, seemingly floating in space, a man sitting on a Biosense chair, much like the ones in the conference room although this one was in the same uniform of the room’s matt white, and almost invisible.

  Jibril was still sitting in the Lotus position. I took a tentative step forward and then another. My feet made no sound on the floor. I took another step and then another and then I sensed something and put out my hand. Nothing. Another step with my hand held out in front of me and then my hand touched something solid. Despite my foreknowledge of the partition I still felt a quick surge of relief flow through me at the physical touch of this transparent wall between us. I looked down and around and saw a Biosense come out of the floor just behind me. I sat down. The Biosense felt cool on my buttocks. I wondered how many people were watching this.

  “I’m Jonah James Oliver, Arbitrator, but my friends call me JJ. You asked to see me.” From what I could tell Jibril was tall, brown hair, graying at the temples, with a pale, almost translucent, complexion. His eyes blinked open.

  “I know,” he said, and smiled. It was the first genuine smile of warmth that I had received all day, or for that matter a very long time. The more I looked at the smile the more I felt its warmth and the more I wanted to smile back. I didn’t but I wanted to.

  “Do you know what the name Jonah means?” he asked. His voice was very soft but firm and clear. There was a pure quality to it, each word enunciated perfectly.

  “It means bad luck,” I said.

  “That’s but one interpretation of the meaning and a rather literal one at that. According to the Ancient texts, Jonah was a Messenger of God. Do you believe in God, Jonah?” His eyebrows raised slightly as he waited for my answer.

  I was thinking that this conversation was not going as planned, but then who was I kidding? What plan? The only plan that I was following was the 'fly by the seat of your pants' plan, so I decided to go along for the flight.

  “Well, yes and no.”

  “Ah, Jonah,” he said, with what I could have sworn was a twinkle in his eye, “belief in God is not a yes and no issue. You either do or you do not. The word belief is the crucial one there. It does not allow for fence-sitting or quibbling. So do you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Perhaps I shouldn’t be asking such personal questions so early in our relationship, but then I feel as if I have known you for so many years.” He shifted his position and with both hands resting on his knees looked comfortable despite the fact that he was naked. Yes he was tall, judging by height of his torso, at least one hundred and ninety cents, perhaps taller.

  “Jonah was a prophet for all religions, the Son of Truth, a dove. He appears in the Old and New Testaments, the Koran, and the Jewish bible, not to mention the Bahai faith. In each he is seen as a Messenger of God, and a fairly strict one at that. Are you strict, Jonah? Will you request God to strike me down for my sins, or having sought repentance of Him, shall I be saved as you were vomited from the great fish’s mouth onto the shores of Nineveh?”

  I was thinking that this runner had quaffed a spike too many in his running days, but held the thoughts and didn’t speak them out.

  “You’re probably thinking that I am totally crazy,” he chuckled, a hand coming up to cover his mouth as if to hide his mirth at my totally readable expression.

  “No, no, not at all. I just haven’t heard that story of my name before. It’s very interesting.”

  Again I lapsed into silence. I hadn’t a clue what to say, and in those circumstances it’s usually better to keep your mouth shut and let everyone think that you may be a fool rather than opening it and removing all doubt.

  “I don’t think you’re a fool, Jonah. Yes, Jonah, that is right.”

  Wait. I heard that but his lips didn’t move. He didn’t say anything but I heard him say that I was right – right about thinking he might be a telepath. This guy was freaking me out. Was I that readable? He continued to smile with a warmth that enveloped me and I felt embraced by it, even in my shock. Nothing in my training came close to enabling me to deal with this situation. As arbitrators, our thoughts are our refuge, and if mine were on open display with him then I had nothing left.

  “Yes, Jonah, I am in your mind, but perhaps all of us are in each other’s minds. However, that philo discussion will have to wait for another day for we do not have much time. Jonah, we will have two conversations. One will be for the people monitoring our meeting and the other will be for you and me. Of course, you are free to divulge to your superiors both of our conversations, but I ask that you hold off until we have finished. Now what we need to do here is very complex and usually takes months of training to get right. Obviously we don’t have that much time. So this is how you do it. I have every faith in you, Jonah. I know you can do this.

  “You will ask me a question using your voice. When you have finished, I will tell you something using my mind. As I am replying to your question using my voice, you will reply to my question using your mind, and so we will continue. Are you ready Jonah?”

  I thought, “Yes,” and said, “You know my name, indeed seem remarkably well acquainted with it, so how should I address you?”

  Just before I finished saying this, my mind was assaulted in a way that I can only describe as what I imagine insanity to be. His words, transmitted to my mind, overrode what I was saying and it was a struggle to not repeat what he was saying in my mind, but I succeeded, just barely managing to strangle out the last spoken phrase.

  In my mind he said, “I came here to enlist your help on urgent matters of global importance; there is a conspiracy that if successful will send this planet, and the colonies on the Moon and Mars, back into the Dark Ages.” I raised my eyebrows as if waiting for a response to my question, but it was more a reaction to the assault on my mind.

  His voice said, “Names and PUIs aren’t that relevant to me as a runner, Jonah. Look at you. You have carried your name for all your life without understanding its true meaning. However, for the purposes of ease of conversation, you may call me Jibril.”

  The smile had gone from his face to be replaced by a slight frown. I wondered if this was as a result of his having to concentrate on what I was thinking while he was talking.

  I thought, “Why me?”

  And said, “So, Jibril, you have admitted that you are a runner and have agreed to produce a statement of your activities for purpose of judgment under Article 2 of United Nation Containment Code, but you stopped the process and insisted on seeing me. How is it that you know of me?”

  While saying this, again my mind was overlaid with his thoughts. Somehow I managed to get the words out, but now my temples were throbbing in pain at the effort of conducting these two conversations.

  His thought said, “Jonah, your name is not Jonah, your uncle is not your uncle, and you are not you, as you know you. My real name is Gabriel – Jibril is Arabic for Gabriel. You must trust me Jonah, it is vital for the future of this planet that you do.”

  I heard his voice say, “You represented an illegal that I once ran. He said you were kind and fair to him, which was good enough for me, and so I asked for you.” I saw a bead of sweat roll from his temple down his jaw line and fall onto his chest.

  I thought, “How can I trust you when I don’t
know who you are or where you come from?”

  I said, “Do you perhaps remember which illegal this was? I mean the one who said that I treated him fairly?” My voice was strained; I hoped those monitoring this didn’t notice.

  “Your voice sounds natural enough, Jonah, and we’re nearly finished. Proof of what I say and my trust in you is that in less than eight hours I will be gone from this room.”

  This thought overrode everything I was thinking and then his voice said, “Who the illegal was is of no importance. The important thing is that I know the whereabouts of sixteen of the most wanted people in the universe, and your superiors want that information. To get it, they’re going to have to give me what I want.”

  While he said this, I thought, “How does your disappearance provide me with the proof that I can trust you or that anything you have claimed is real?”

  And I said, “Well, Jibril, perhaps if you tell me what it is that you want, I would be happy to relay that to the appropriate people.”

  I felt a trickle of sweat run from my armpit down my ribs. This wasn’t easy, this dual conversation stuff. His thoughts again crowded in, swamping my thoughts of sweat, piercing into my head.

  “Jonah, the proof is that I came here to meet with you to give you this message. When I leave, you will realize that the only reason I allowed myself to be caught was because this was the only way that I could reach you without causing suspicion to fall upon you.”

  “Ten million units, a full pardon and a drop off in the outlands of the region of South America,” he said and smiled, sitting even further back in his chair. “Then with the aid of a Dev, I will track all sixteen of the illegals who were dropped when I was so rudely interrupted in my work.”

  I couldn’t think of anything. I froze. My mind was a shattered nothing. I just looked blankly at him.

  “That’s enough for now, Jonah, I can feel you’re at breaking point. When the time comes, you will know what to do and you will do the right thing. Don’t trust Agent Cochran: she’s a telepath as you are, so be very careful when you are in the same room with her to think of anything but this conversation or else you will find yourself here in the Deep, or worse.”