8:45 AM.
It was a short flight from Canberra. The Australian Air Force Boeing 787 Dreamliner VIP jet touched down at Sydney’s Kingsford Smith Airport. The jet was sleek and shiny and painted with the Australian Air Force colour scheme on its fuselage. It also had the words: REPUBLIC OF AUSTRALIA, written on either side. It taxied to the general aviation section of the airport where a group of people were waiting there to meet the President of Australia. It finally came to a stop and the plane was surrounded by ground service personnel. A vehicle was parked there waiting for the President. It was a black Range Rover Vogue with tinted windows. When the plane stopped, its cabin door opened. A few moments later, Christine Mills emerged from inside the plane. Crowds of reporters, photographers, civilians, and security were waiting anxiously as the light blue Dreamliner VIP jet with white stars and gold leaves comes to halt in front of them. The crowds erupted in cheers and the clicking of the cameras roar to life when Christine Mills stepped out from the jet flanked by Joe Parsons, security, and several of her staff. She made her way down to the crowd on the way to the black cars waiting for her. Along the way she posed for pictures, hugged children, and greeted several members. As she got nearer to the cars, Kevin Fraser, the Premier of New South Wales emerged from one with an abnormally large smile on his face that shows off all of his teeth. “Your Excellency, this is Premier Kevin Fraser,” said Joe.
“Your Excellency, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said, as they shook hands.
“Thank you, Premier. I’m excited to be here. It’s going to be a great day for the ceremony,” she said.
“Ma’am, we need to get moving,” said Joe.
“Very well. Thank you for coming, Premier. I’ll see you at the ceremony,” she said. She and Joe walked over to the vehicle. They climbed into the back and it slowly drove away. The whole time, photographers were snapping photos of the President.
8:55 AM.
After a ten-minute drive, DCI Mick Greer arrived at the AFP headquarters building in Sydney. The elevator chimed as Mick Greer stepped off and walked through the bull-pen style work stations with purpose towards where a woman with black, thick rimmed glasses was typing on a computer. This was Felicity Meyers. No one looked up as Mick marched to Felicity’s desk, everyone hard at work typing away at computers or fielding phone calls. He came to a stop right in front of Felicity’s desk, but she barely acknowledges him. On the far wall of the operations centre was a large screen which displayed a digitalized map of Sydney CBD. Mick was carrying his brief case and as he walked across the floor, he was talking on the phone with the Assistant Police Commissioner. “Yes, I do think we should increase security around the Opera House,” said Mick, as he walked over to a desk. “Because, we have a very important person arriving in the city soon, and we also have intelligence that suggests the Independence Day festival may be a target,” he said. “Alright, thank you, Sir.” He then hung up and looked down at someone in front of him. “Felicity, updates?” he asked.
“Good morning to you too, Boss,” said Felicity. He just looked at her, oddly. Felicity Meyers was a computer technician and systems data analyst; her job was to manage the operations centre as well as gather intelligence and collate data, and assess threats from other government agencies. She was good at her job and she loved doing it. Felicity had a Bachelor's degree in Computer Science which she obtained from the University of Sydney. She had a passion for computers and technology. She was, in a word: a computer geek, but she was proud of her title. She had a large L shaped desk with three monitors in front of her. She also had access to the latest virtual display technology.
“It’s not a good morning, Felicity. We’ve got the first President of Australia arriving shortly, and we have a possible terrorist threat to deal with,” he said, as he flicked through an intelligence report. “What’s the latest?” he continued.
“The Opera House is secure. We’ve got teams on site as well as plain clothed officers in the crowd,” she said. “We also have aerial surveillance of the site.” The Serious Crimes Unit had access to specialized surveillance equipment; they were drones and used to provide the AFP with additional security.
“Good. We need to have every basis covered. How long before the President arrives?” “I just found she’s landed at Sydney Airport. She’s on her way to the Admiralty House to sign the Constitution,” she said. Mick didn’t say anything after that and slowly nodded.
“Alright, keep working. Where’s Diane?”
“She just arrived also. She’s in her office,” said Felicity. Mick turned and saw Detective Sergeant Diane Faulkner in her office, working away. As Mick made his way to another office. He knocked on the door and showed himself in.
“Hey, Ethan. Good to see you here,” he said. Detective Sergeant Ethan Cooper looked up from his computer.
“Hey Boss. It’s no problem. It’s not like I had any choice,” he replied, rhetorically. Mick just chuckled.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your holiday, but as you know, today is a pretty significant event,” said Mick.
“It’s fine, I understand. I’d be happy to help,” he replied, and Mick nodded. Ethan Cooper was a former Army officer with the Special Air Service Regiment. He’d since joined the AFP’s Serious Crimes Unit because of his expertise in counter-terrorism. “Besides, I couldn’t live with myself if something happened while I was on holiday,” he added. “Well, I don’t think anything will happen. Have you gotten anything from those profiles?” he asked.
“Not yet, I’m still about half way through the first batch,” said Ethan. He was sifting through intelligence files that’d been sent over from ASIO, the Australian Security Intelligence Organisation.
“Alright, keep working on them. There is a threat, we have to find it,” said Mick and Ethan nodded. After Mick left, Ethan stopped and looked over at the TV that was on in his office. It was showing a report on the Independence Day festival. As he sat there, his mobile phone started ringing. It was a blocked number and he was reluctant to answer. “Detective Cooper,” he answered. There was a brief pause before there was a response. “Hello?”
“Ethan…It’s me.” Ethan looked confused, and stood up.
“Max?”
“Yeah, it’s me…We need to talk.”
“About what? What’s going on, Max?” he asked, but Max didn’t reply straight away.
“I have Intel about a terrorist plot. I need to talk to you in person,” he said. Ethan let out a sigh and looked at his watch.
“I don’t really have the time, Max. I’m in the middle of an investigation,” he added.
“This Intel will help with your investigation…Please, Ethan. Trust me on this,” said Max. Ethan just let out a sigh, and closed his eyes.
“Okay fine, but you’d better not be screwing with me,” he said.
“I’m not. Meet me at Circular Quay, Wharf Four. Ten minutes,” said Max.
“But I can’t,” said Ethan, but the call was disconnected. He thought for a moment and then he quickly picked up his jacket and headed to the door.
The Admiralty House was in the suburb of Kirribilli, on the northern foreshore of Sydney Harbour. It sat adjacent to Kirribilli House, the official residence of the Prime Minister of Australia. It was a large Victorian Regency and Italianate sandstone manor with lush greenery surrounding the residence, and occupies the tip of Kirribilli Point. It boasts striking views of the city with the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Sydney Opera House to the right. A large iron gate with spiked tops secured the main entrance and a security outbuilding patrolled by a security officer controlled who gained access to the residence and when. The cast iron gates opened inward and moments later, the black Range Rover Vogue slowly pulled in. It was carrying the first President of Australia, Christine Mills. The vehicle drove down the gravel driveway and came to a stop at the main entrance. One of Christine’s private bodyguards came over and opened the back door. At that, Christine stepped out. She was greeted by each state’s Governor, who were planning to sign the new Constitution under the republic system. Christine smiled as she approached them and began shaking hands, one by one. There were several photographers there and they were taking photos of the President shaking hands with the Governors. The whole meet and greet took about five minutes. After which, the state Governors and Christine Mills made their way into the residence. They were escorted down the corridor and ventured into the lounge room where the signing was to take place. But before Christine went to enter the room, she was stopped by Joe who had been on the phone. “Ma’am, sorry to interrupt. I’ve received a call from the AFP. Chief Superintendent Anna Mackenzie would like a word,” he said. Christine looked at him, oddly.
“What’s this about, Joe?” she asked.
“I’m not sure, Ma’am. But she said it was urgent.” Christine didn’t reply straight away, and looked back at the lounge room where the Governors were conversing.
“Okay, Joe. I’ll take the call,” she replied, and Joe handed her the phone. She walked away a few metres to talk privately. “This is the President.”
“Your Excellency, I’m Anna Mackenzie. Chief Superintendent of the Serious Crimes Unit.”
“Yes, Ms. Mackenzie. I was told this was an urgent matter?” “It is, Ma’am. I’m calling to inform you that my agency has been working with ASIO and has identified that there is the possibility of a terrorist attack, which is supposed to take place today,” she explained.
“My God…Who’s responsible for this attack?” she asked.
“We’re not a hundred percent sure on that, Ma’am. But we do know it is a credible threat,” she said. Christine let out a sigh.
“Ma’am, I’m calling because I believe that you should strongly consider postponing the Independence Day festival,” said Anna.
“No, absolutely not. Ms. Mackenzie, today is an historical event. The entire country is watching the event on live television. If we postpone the festival, it will ruin the whole thing,” said Christine.
“I realize that, Ma’am. But we’re talking about a terrorist attack. Dozens, if not hundreds of lives are at stake, not to mention yours,” said Anna.
“Ms. Mackenzie…I’m about to sign the most important document in Australian history. Then, I will be going on live TV to announce Australia’s independence from the British Commonwealth…You have until 12PM to neutralize this terrorist threat,” said Christine.
“That doesn’t give us much time, Ma’am.”
“Then I’d suggest you get to work, Ms. Mackenzie,” said Christine. There was a brief pause.
“Yes, thank you, Your Excellency.” Then Christine hung up the call. She walked over to Joe, who was standing by the door.
“The AFP want to postpone the festival.” Joe’s eyes widened.
“What for?”
“They said there’s a possible terrorist threat. I told them they have until 12PM to stop the terrorists,” she said. “Keep me updated on the situation, Joe.” He slowly nodded. As Christine handed him the phone back, she went inside the main lounge room. Inside, the Governors were standing around, waiting patiently. “Gentlemen, ladies. I appreciate you all waiting…I’d like to get started with the signing,” she said.
Comments (0)
See all