Scorpio's Lot (116 page)

‘Good, we’re all assembled now.
First let me introduce myself. My name is Indigo, supreme leader of the famed
Traffik syndicate. The intention of our visit is twofold. One is to destroy
Scorpio and the other to capture the Piedpiper. As a gesture of common courtesy
I now call on everyone here to identify themselves, including the eight people
lined up against the wall. We will commence with the four seated men.’

Forbes introduced his attendees,
pointing out it was their intention to put the Traffik criminals behind bars
for the terrible atrocity they had inflicted on Pedley. Indigo simply laughed
in response, stating Forbes was in no position to enforce his authority.

We committee members then took
centre stage, each of us revealing our name and role carried within the
community. In stark contrast to the publican’s blunt and bitter delivery, both
Helen and Martha addressed the audience with nervousness and fear.

Following my own admission, I
noticed the larger of the two hooded men seated in the middle closely resembled
one of the thugs from that infamous night at the caravan park. His T-shirt
summed up the mentality of the man. Sprawled across the front, the words ‘Lights,
Camera, War’ were printed in bold black letters. I could only conclude the
blighter was an utter fruitcake and possibly the one they called Charlie.

I then took the liberty of
questioning Indigo as to why innocent people should be detained, when they
served no purpose with his personnel vendetta against Scorpio. The response
drew an ominous glare with a somewhat predicable answer.

‘What, and let you all return to
alert the authorities. Do you take me for a fucking idiot, Mr Harrison? If and
when I believe I’m satisfied that you provide no pending threat, I will then
and only then consider your release. Until then shut up!’

Indigo then turned his attention
to the hooded pair still maintaining their seated positions.

‘So ... finally our masked duo,’
he commenced. ‘Unless I’m mistaken you two imbeciles couldn’t possibly uphold
the role of regional head. Your vocabulary skills are sadly deficient and you
sit there trembling and hiding behind those ridiculous hoods.’

He ordered the pair to remove the
balaclavas and reveal their identities. With some reluctance the two faces
emerged. Their audience, disappointingly, were none the wiser. Both men were
unknowns and on Indigo’s request to reveal their names the pair remained
silent.

‘I suggest you tell me or feel
the brunt of Traffik’s punishment!’ Indigo snapped with their lack of
cooperation and then added for good measure, ‘Torture is a specialty of mine.
Our methods to extract information will leave you begging for mercy. If you don’t
collaborate I suggest we commence with electric shocks to the genitals, or
perhaps electric needles under the fingernails. Then again burning you with
cigarettes or the slow compression of the testicles is generally persuasive. So
what will it be?’

The men responded with the names
John and Luke.

‘So, John and Luke, tell me where
your boss is.’

An uncooperative silence
followed.

‘In case you’ve forgotten, your
illustrious leader goes by the name of the Piedpiper,’ he coaxed.

‘He’s not far,’ responded the
shorter man with some reluctance.

‘Would you please elaborate?’

‘He’s in the underground as we
speak. The cops were brought here by the Piedpiper,’ stated the other.

‘Thank you, we’re finally getting
somewhere.’

~ * ~

With
the passageway now seemingly safe, the traitor stepped forth from behind a
medieval sandstone statue. He withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and
proceeded to place it over the torch’s glass face to reduce the illuminating
beams. He would not repeat his previous mistake. The advancing party would be
no more than three intersecting corridors ahead and he knew distance had to be
maintained if he were to be privy to the Scorpio operation. He began to gloat
over what might lie ahead. He had recommenced his quest to experience the
ultimate confrontation and felt an unrelenting determination to witness its
consequences.

Ascending two levels, he had been
following Indigo and his group for some fifteen minutes and, excluding the one
isolated incident that resulted in someone falling over, the Scorpio renegade
was now aware of an uneasy continuous silence. The situation up front had
changed, giving the impression the location to the southern headquarters was
suddenly within reach. A cautious approach was now paramount, for the slightest
sound or careless use of his torch would have the Traffik thugs repeating their
pursuit.

Patiently the traitor advanced at
a moderate pace and turned into one of the numerous corridors where he could
see a distant light. His torch was immediately extinguished as he stepped a
little closer to assess the situation. An open space lay ahead and numerous
voices could be heard. Finally the Scorpio operation had become penetrable.

He realised to accept first
impressions at face value could lead to a serious mistake. The area ahead
appeared to be a major junction and therefore logic suggested that numerous
pathways would lead to this convergence. Traffik and their captives had most
likely chosen this corridor and there was no certainty that one of their thugs
wasn’t keeping vigilance at its exit. He decided to backtrack and choose a
different entry to arrive at this most tempting of galleries. The path he
selected was three intersections across. Turning left, he detected light and
voices at the end of the tunnel.

The traitor made his approach and
on reaching a chamber roof he lay facedown to commence his forward thrust.
Slowly he wormed his way toward the railing, careful not to attract any undue
attention.

The sound of Indigo’s presence
continued to dominate proceedings, his forceful authority maintaining a captive
audience. The subdued lighting and constant bickering from below was distinctly
to the traitor’s advantage.

Crawling forward with an
unyielding determination, he had finally reached the roof edge. The traitor
focused on the individuals below and immediately identified the Scorpio pair
along with Indigo and his cronies. As to the rest of these people, he wasn’t
sure. It was difficult for the traitor to gain a clear view of the captives,
for they all stood in a line beside the wall directly beneath him. He could at
least identity their gender. The interrogation from below continued at a
punishing rate.

Indigo was focused on the
identity of the Piedpiper. He maintained his assault on the Scorpio duo,
lashing out with some choice punches and cursing the pair for their mere
existence. Screaming for the whereabouts of their leader, he let fly with a few
savage kicks to head and torso. Indigo then decided to back off in seeing the
blood run freely from both men. It was imperative to keep these two conscious
to enable identification of their leader.

Whilst the Scorpio pair repeatedly
confirmed the Piedpiper had left prior to Traffik intervening, Indigo wasn’t
totally convinced. Ivan suggested the answer may well lie in this very room and
not to discount present company as potential candidates. I thought his
insinuation was absurd which had no grounds for such a claim. Ivan continued to
explore the possibilities. He dismissed the police, believing their entry was
by way of the exposed Broadbent locality. The much-publicised bombsite was a
logical choice, but the committee’s RSL selection raised an interesting point.
Here was an entrance that required knowledge of the underground layout. He
maintained the subterranean system was privy to only a select few and yet the
committee that stood before them had somehow acquired this information.
Although Burke and Harrison had contributed, it would be foolish of Traffik to
dismiss the remaining council members. Indigo was beginning to understand Ivan’s
logic. Slightly exhausted following the vicious outburst, he now turned his
attention to the committee members standing beside the bluestone wall.

Words of accusation flowed from
Indigo’s vindictive tongue. Cursing the eight, he eyed each individual with
suspicion and persecution. His witch-hunt would leave no stone unturned.
Maintaining his inconspicuous existence upon the chamber rooftop, the traitor
listened intently to Indigo’s insinuations against the committee members. Was
there a half-truth behind his outburst? Then something twigged in the renegade’s
mind. He could recall overhearing a conversation between Sol and Neville
Bradbury discussing a certain attribute about the Piedpiper. There was a
distinct shortage of candidates in Pedley that would fit this criterion. With
this in mind, the traitor cautiously peered down on the eight members below
him. Although he had never seen nor spoken to the regional head, his
observation, nonetheless, had already narrowed the field dramatically.

With the cross examination
unfolding before him, the Scorpio renegade became distinctly frustrated at Indigo’s
inability to resolve the Piedpiper’s identity He knew the matter at hand could
effectively be dealt with on the basis of elimination. If the drug lord did
indeed reside amongst the eight, then the outcome was elementary.

So what in the hell was taking
him so long? The answer was blatantly obvious and yet this imbecile chose to
ignore the obvious. Perhaps ignorance and stupidity had clouded his thinking.
The traitor was nearly beside himself with Indigo’s failure to see beyond his
nose. Unable to control his emotions any longer, he stood up and declared his
intentions to the complete surprise of everybody below.

‘You bloody idiots, hasn’t one of
you got an ounce of brain!’ bellowed the traitor. Pointing toward the eight
committee members, he let out a further scream.

‘Their regional head stands
before you, Indigo. The Piedpiper can only be one of -’

But it was too late. The traitor
could not complete the sentence for he had been shot between the eyes and had
died instantly. The bullet had been fired from across the other side of the
gallery, supposedly by the very person that was labelled the Piedpiper some
fifteen minutes earlier.

~ * ~

Not
long after dawn had broken there was still no word on the missing policemen.
Forbes and his men had not yet resurfaced and Burke’s group remained equally at
bay. Now holding senior rank in the case, Gallagher had taken the liberty of
organising a backup team to commence their recovery search. With fourteen
policemen from base, he had also been provided with four SOG troops via city
headquarters. Gallagher was disappointed their arrival had not been earlier,
but head office maintained an unforeseen problem had delayed proceedings.
Additionally, Whittaker had used his influence to secure a modest number from
neighbouring townships. The figure had quickly expanded to twenty-three persons
at his disposal.

In waiting for his men to
congregate, Gallagher spotted Chris Martino by the coffee machine and decided
to get an update on young Murdock’s progress. He knew the local constabulary
was keeping tabs on the injured following the Broadbent explosion.

‘What’s the word from the
hospital on Danny Murdock?’

‘Marsh checked yesterday and his
condition is serious but stable. Apparently he’s been taken off the critical
list, which is good news.’

‘That’s a relief. Let’s hope his
recovery speeds up,’ acknowledged Gallagher.

At seven am the sudden arrival of
Emily Harrison and Brigit O’Neill caught the detective a little off-guard. He
had not anticipated their visit, having just completed his brief with the men.
Both women looked terrible and the strain of the situation was showing. Neither
had slept and they were desperate to get an update on the matter. Advised that
there was no further news and that a rescue team was about to descend the
underground, both Emily and Brigit foolishly insisted they be allowed to
partake.

‘Under no circumstances
whatsoever!’ Gallagher declared in a loud, stern voice.

‘But my husband’s down there!’
insisted Emily.

‘Who happens to be my uncle, and
not forgetting Helen as well,’ Brigit added.

‘And all the more reason not to
venture down there. You two don’t seem to understand the enormity of the
situation. With a possible confrontation between rival drug syndicates, it
makes for even a less inviting place.’