Scorpio's Lot (112 page)

Two large, impressive statues adorned
the centre of this chamber. One male and the other female, the pair were
depicted nude in what appeared to be either brass or copper. Their heads and
shoulders were excessively large as they stood upright slightly leaning toward
each other. Their large black eyes were closely construed and deeply recessed.
The jaws were exceptionally narrow and their lips were dark, giving the
impression of a degree of malice. Their noses were long and thin and the
forehead protruded to enhance a frown-like appearance. Despite these
peculiarities their faces still reflected an intellectual and mysterious
beauty.

Forbes was beginning to grow
impatient. Whilst these ongoing distractions may’ve provided some form of
entertainment, their quest to uncover enemy headquarters was proving futile.
Certainly the vastness of the subterranean passageways didn’t help, and as to
Scorpio’s possible location, well, that was anybody’s guess. They had reached
what seem to be the bowels of the earth with no vague supposition that a drug operation
presided within the confines. Neither human nor mechanical noises had been
detected during their descent. No unusual or suspicious sound had prompted a
closer look. No inkling to arouse the curious mind existed. So where could they
be?

‘This is bloody ridiculous. We’ve
descended in excess of three hundred metres and not a sniff,’ Forbes
complained.

‘To my way of thinking we’re
wasting our time this far down,’ claimed Marsh.

‘What do you mean?’

‘We’re in search of an
organisation that has accumulated and stored a vast amount of drugs. Logic
tells me the operation would be conducted closer to the surface for logistical
reasons alone. I mean, what on earth would possess them to carry out their
procedures all the way down here?’

‘I agree, it doesn’t make sense,’
said Forbes.

‘Then where do you propose we go
from here, sir?’ asked Doyle.

‘That’s blatantly obvious,
detective. Up, of course, but it begs the question as to how far,’ replied
Forbes with a hint of ridicule.

‘But their operation could be at
any level,’ declared Parnell.

‘I can’t deny that, but our
chances improve the closer we return to the surface. In the meantime there’s no
choice but to examine each level we ascend,’ insisted Forbes.

‘We’re talking about a sizeable
area with each level, sir.’

‘So be it.’

‘I’m suggesting their
headquarters are situated above the hole. I counted around six levels of
passageways over that massive opening. Let’s face it, why the need to go beyond
that depth,’ said Marsh.

‘Seems logical to me. The Scorpio
syndicate would have all the area they need for storage and the convenience of
being close to Broadbent’s,’ said Forbes with a gleam in his eye.

The four men commenced their
return, a testing and harder task given the uphill climb. Fatigue would now become
a considered factor if their ascent was carried out too hastily. Forbes was
well aware of this danger, but the checking of each floor level would at least
break the monotony of the climb.

~ * ~

nbeknown
to Indigo and his lackeys, the Scorpio traitor lurked in the background. He
purposely remained at a respectable distance so as to avoid possible detection.
An opportunity to experience the underground at first hand was not to be
missed. The turncoat had carried a grudge for sometime against his peers and
with the introduction of Traffik on the scene, destiny would now prevail. He
was rarely given recognition for his services and furious for always being
denied entry into the subterranean passageways. It was now payback time to
witness the confrontation between Scorpio and Traffik.

He had followed the syndicate to
the RSL, realising it was Indigo’s intention to use Tom Harrison to gain entry
into the underground. He waited patiently in his car while the Traffik thugs
made their rendezvous with the committee members. Some fifteen minutes later he
witnessed the assembled group enter the utility shed behind the clubrooms.
Careful not proceed too eagerly, he waited a further quarter of an hour before
making his approach to the standalone brick structure. A faint distant pounding
sound of a sledgehammer could be heard, undoubtedly the tool being used to
break the entrance seal. Ten minutes after the hammering had ceased he made his
move.

Satisfied the thirteen would not
reappear, he entered the dark and obscure confines of the shed. With his torch
ablaze he shone the beam in a constant sweep amidst the accumulation of tools
and archives. His light source caught the outline of a trapdoor at the far end
of the shed. Realising the hatchway provided the means to enter the basement
and ultimately the underground network, he proceeded to open the cellar door.
Confronted with a steep spiral staircase, he descended to the basement and
immediately could see the destruction the sledgehammer had caused.

How convenient, he thought, as he
lowered himself down on the landing. The traitor had only ventured a short
distance, when he quickly observed the party ahead had advertised their route
by chalking the walls. He realised the progress of thirteen persons within
these passageways would be slow and tedious. His own headway would need to be
carried out with both patience and vigilance, for he was uncertain how far
ahead the group had progressed.

In particular there had to be
caution with the use of his torch, for any detection of light in this dark
environment would be instantly recognised. In sensing the vulnerability of his
torch, he shone the light directly on the ground rather than ahead. He had now
travelled the descending passageway for some ten minutes, but no sign of the
advancing party could yet be detected.

The traitor was disappointed in
what he had seen to this point. The underground network was no more than a
collection of narrow winding passageways that led in a hundred directions. He
had high hopes of seeing something far more spectacular, but in the end he had
to be content with these boring repetitive stairways that stunk to high heaven
and offered no curiosity factor. Little did he know the subterranean system
ahead would begin to change, a transition that would undoubtedly leave him
spellbound when he eventually witnessed its grand attraction. After all he did
choose the back door servant’s entrance to begin his quest.

Like his predecessors before him,
the traitor had stumbled across the tubes of lights recessed amidst a series of
side chambers. He paused to observe their haunting glow accentuating the
immediate surrounds from within the crypt. Fascinated by their hypnotic effect,
he simply stood and gazed without venturing further. Given the medieval milieu and
captivated mood of the moment, he half-expected Gregorian to break out in chant
with ‘The Sounds of Silence’. Unaware of their source power, he gathered that
some underground dweller periodically lit the wicks or encased fluid. In the
mind of the traitor he sensed there were further persons to be wary of, other
than just the party ahead and a collection of Scorpio has-beens.

Some two minutes further down the
chalked main arterial, the sight of a subterranean cemetery took the traitor by
complete surprise. The carefully stacked mounds of skulls appeared to be
unashamedly flaunted, with the inclusion of numerous tubes transmitting their
infinite glow from behind. He was literally astounded by the sheer number of
human skulls that had been accumulated in such a confined area. He couldn’t
begin to contemplate where they had all come from.

He ventured on, believing Indigo
and his cronies were within his reach. Having travelled down these pathways for
a further ten minutes the gap would have to be closing. From around each corner
he half expected to hear the advancing party, or at least the sight of a
distance light to indicate he had arrived. He approached with caution, not
wanting to declare his presence. In a brief moment of carelessness the traitor
was suddenly distracted by the sight of a gothic statue, which appeared from
nowhere. He was startled into seeing this winged demon-like creature staring
down on whoever dared to pass. Annoyed with himself for allowing some mythical
devil to gain the ascendancy, he momentarily had allowed his torchlight to
shine directly ahead.

The damage had been done. His
presence was immediately detected. Voices could be heard in the distance,
perhaps some fifty or sixty metres away. A distinct cry was heard,
unquestionably female. One of Tom Harrison’s committee members, thought the
traitor.

The agitated sound of male voices
quickly drowned out the woman’s distressed cry. Approaching torches and echoing
footsteps on the blue-stone was soon apparent. Perhaps light travels around
corners after all, thought the traitor. He had to quickly retreat and find a
suitable refuge, but where in this world of bluestone and limited havens would
he find such a place? There was the choice of declaring himself, but this was a
risky option, given Indigo would more than likely view his presence as a
threat. Friend or foe, he couldn’t afford to take his chances. He had to
quickly think with what the immediate surrounds could possibly provide.

The main passageway and nearby
intersecting corridors were out of the question. Five Traffik members on the
prowl would soon capture their man. He anticipated that all five would come
searching since it was highly unlikely Indigo would provide the remaining group
with a torch. The traitor was now in panic mode for his options were indeed
scarce. The last resort was to hide in one of the recessed chambers. He quickly
assessed the most suitable, desperate to find a crypt that housed a large
enough statue to hide behind. Surprisingly, most of the chambers provided
adequate coverage with their variety of large to mid-range stone figures.
Ironically he chose a demon-like creature that was similar to the one that had
forced the issue.

Kneeling behind the grotesque
sculpture, more out necessity than choice, he switched off his torch and waited
for the inevitable. Voices grew distinctly louder and a willful determination
appeared to have taken precedence over screaming abuse. The sound of Indigo
giving instructions could clearly be heard above the scuffled noise of
leather-soled shoes on the stone floor. Nervously he continued to wait ensuring
no piece of his clothing could be detected from the main arterial.

Torches now shone their beams of
light in the same passageway that housed the fearful traitor. Step by step they
approached forever closer, their crisscrossed beams directed toward the
chambers from both sides. Randomly they chose to inspect the recesses, an
intimidating process that was now testing the nerves of their prey. The
situation was tense, his heartbeat forever increasing and the traitor was
beginning to break out in a sweat. Suddenly he heard the voice of Indigo
issuing a further order.

‘That Scorpio jerk could be
anywhere. We need to break up and search these side passageways in case he’s
made a run for it. No point in the five of us being here. Larry, you continue
to look around the chambers and you four come with me,’ instructed their leader
who was beginning to run out of patience with these endless chambers.

With the absence of his superior,
Larry’s surveillance became less thorough, much to the relief of the traitor.
His random selections had all but drawn to a close, giving the impression he
wanted to return and press on in pursuit of the Scorpio headquarters. The
turncoat continued to remain still, sensing the Traffik thug was still in the
immediate vicinity. This was not the time to take an unnecessary risk, for
these men would shortly be on their way to catch bigger fish.