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Authors: Ray Smithies

Tags: #Fiction, #Thrillers, #Drug Traffic, #made by MadMaxAU

Scorpio's Lot (34 page)

BOOK: Scorpio's Lot
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‘No need for alarm. My name is
Detective Senior Constable Marsh and I’m here to help you.’ He untied the men. ‘There
are two fatalities down below and the police and ambulance are in attendance.
At this stage were still trying to piece together how and why this happened,
but for the moment would you please accompany me down to starboard. Detective
Sergeant Forbes will take your statements shortly, but only after you’ve been
treated by the paramedics.’

 

‘All right, but I need to check
on my two remaining men,’ stated the one who appeared to be in charge.

 

‘I released these men from the
engine room ten minutes ago,’ Marsh said. ‘They’re unharmed and perfectly all
right. Might you be the captain of this boat?’

 

‘That’s a relief to hear and yes
I’m the captain. My name is David Campbell.’

 

‘Before I forget, would you pass
me your manifest of the passengers?’

 

‘Certainly but it only contains
the number of men, women and children that boarded, not their names or addresses
as you would expect on a luxury liner. We also keep a tally of the vehicles and
merchandise that comes aboard,’ declared Campbell as he handed over the list.

 

‘Thank you. Please follow me.’

 

Forbes had transferred most of
the passengers across to portside when Marsh returned. He instructed his deputy
to assist with the remaining people and then informed him about what Roger
Pearce had said. With the relocation task now completed, Forbes approached the
wharf and advised the waiting crowd of his intentions.

 

Standing upon the steel plank at
stern he commenced, ‘Thank you for your patience. We have on board a serious
situation whereby two passengers have been murdered and a third has been thrown
overboard in addition to a fourth person being kidnapped. The perpetrators are
unknown at this stage, but I assure you the police will draw all their
available resources to resolve this tragedy.’

 

An immediate hush came over the
crowd and then followed the expected emotional outpour. A few people stepped
forward to board the
Molly Bloom.

 

‘Stop right there and listen to
me very carefully,’ Forbes said. ‘I want those people who were expecting
someone to disembark to step forward now.’

 

He waited as the numbers
continued to increase before him. Within the space of fifteen seconds the
transfer was completed. Around twenty people had declared their intent.

 

‘Good, you will now be directed
on board for the purpose of identifying this person. The reason behind this
procedure is that some passengers are still in a state of shock and may not
instantly recognise you. Most people are well enough and will greet you on
sight, but, sadly, we have two bodies requiring positive identification. When
you find your passenger please remain standing beside that person to assist us
with our records.’

 

Forbes led the nervous group up
the companion ladder, realising their anxiety level would be high. He was
desperately hoping that no one behind him would have to face their ultimate
fear of viewing the body of someone they cared about. The silence of the group
ascending the steps seemed to emphasis the crisis. Would their passenger be
found alive and well? Upon reaching the landing at portside, only a corner wall
separated the two groups of people.

 

Forbes had one remaining
instruction. ‘Please proceed in an orderly fashion and remember to stand beside
the person you recognise.’

 

Upon sighting the return of his
superior, Marsh informed Forbes that Burke and Martino had regained total
consciousness and were already aboard the ambulance about to exit the
Molly
Bloom.

 

‘Good to hear, Paul. We’ll pay
them a visit once I’m finished here.’

 

Only one person could not find
their passenger. A woman in her midthirties now appeared desperate in her
search, checking and rechecking the same sequence of faces. She finally
accepted the fact that her husband was missing and approached the detective for
help.

 

‘My husband Rob is not amongst
these people,’ she wept.

 

‘Please describe your husband to
these passengers as I’m sure someone will remember him.’

 

‘He’s a short man with a ponytail
and muttonchops,’ said the woman, desperate for a response.

 

It was Roger Pearce who
reluctantly came forward to pronounce the man’s fate. ‘I’m so sorry to tell you
that your husband was thrown overboard by these fiends around half an hour
before we docked.’

 

The woman screamed at hearing the
news and then broke down in a flood of tears.

 

‘Can your husband swim?’ asked
Forbes, ignoring the emotions and focusing more on the problem at hand.

 

‘Yes ... he’s a good swimmer, but
the water is so cold at this time of year.’

 

‘All’s not lost so please don’t
give up hope. When learning of this a while ago I took the liberty of phoning a
rescue operation unit that’s sending a helicopter to the area. They’re probably
searching as we speak. I’ve requested they keep me informed so I’ll pass on the
news as it comes to hand.’

 

‘Thank you, officer, that gives
me a bit of hope after all.’

 

‘May I have your name?’ asked
Forbes.

 

‘Christine Flanagan.’

 

‘Would you please give Detective
Marsh your address details and telephone number and I’ll personally contact you
regarding your husband’s progress.’

 

Forbes then turned to the
assembled passengers and crew to deliver a further address.

 

‘At this point in time you’ve all
been treated by the paramedics and I’m advised there are some people who will
be transferred to Pedley Hospital for further observation. There are four
ambulances waiting and the medical crew will direct you shortly. People who do
not require further medical attention will be free to leave shortly. Given the
grave nature of today’s ordeal, the police will be in touch with each and every
one of you in due course. We have all your details, and should you remember any
additional information please contact the Pedley Police Station immediately.
Are there any questions?’

 

A young man in his early twenties
was first to speak. His question was on everybody’s mind. ‘Detective, who on
earth were these people?’

 

‘They’re members of a local drug
syndicate who were in pursuit of the young girl that was kidnapped. It’s now
our responsibility to draw on all our resources to resolve this matter
promptly.’

 

Following the dismissal of the
passengers Forbes had further words and instructions for Captain Campbell. He
then decided to return to starboard with his detective. Upon their approach the
paramedics advised Forbes they were finished onboard and had alerted the
hospital regarding the arrival of nine passengers for further observation. That
only left the forensics team, which should arrive within the hour.

 

Forbes stood silently amidst the
carnage. He stared at the upturned furniture, the accumulation of mobile phones
and finally upon the two dead bodies. Although anxious to establish their
identities, he knew this procedure could not be undertaken until the forensics
examination was completed. Disturbing the crime scene would not be tolerated
under any circumstances. He sighed, accepting the inevitable. His delegated
role would have to wait.

 

He decided to phone Emily
Harrison. He informed her of the tragedy and that Tom was in a state of shock
following the executions and the kidnapping of Brigit O’Neill. He explained
that Tom had been taken to the outpatient department of the hospital for
further observation, but otherwise had escaped the mayhem unscathed.

 

Emily was in an anxious and
confused state after wondering where Tom had been all this time. Following the
detective’s call she quickly gathered her car keys to make the three-minute
trip to hospital.

 

~ * ~

 

Entering
the hospital wing, Emily was directed through to the consulting rooms and an
awaiting medical staff. I was among the first passengers to be admitted, which
enabled her to bypass the drawn-out formalities of the waiting room.

 

We had an emotional reunion among
my fellow travellers. I was relieved Em had not seen me in my earlier traumatic
state. Doctor Young spoke to us briefly and gave me instructions to rest and
keep my daily routine restricted to light duties, for I was still traumatised
and it could take upwards of two days to regain a full physical recovery. The
mental despair was a further issue and it would be unrealistic to expect the
anguish to subside in a similar timeframe.

 

I then caught sight of Darren and
Chris wandering my way.

 

‘What’s the damage, Tom?’ asked
Burke.

 

‘Nothing too serious, just orders
to take it easy over the next two days.’

 

‘A good excuse for Emily to
pamper you for a while.’

 

‘Only to a point. He certainly
won’t get breakfast in bed,’ declared Emily with a broad grin.

 

‘You guys have taken a hammering
over the past twenty-four hours. How’s the head?’ I asked Darren.

 

‘We’ll survive. Some rest then
light duties when we return to the station. I think we’ve all had our fair
share of excitement for a while.’

 

Following my discharge Emily and
I shared a quiet drive back to the house. I could sense she was holding off
with her abundance of questions until we were both seated in the comfort and
privacy of our living room. It had been the most difficult day of my entire
life, but I wasn’t about to grovel in self-pity. Brigit’s dilemma and ultimate
fate rested squarely on my mind. What could possibly be done to rescue her from
the clutches of these assassins?

 

As anticipated, Emily reeled off
a succession of questions, each bearing a similar answer to the previous. She
was stressed and concerned and was not aware her remarks were becoming
repetitive. Finally deciding to intercept this merry-go-round of interrogation,
I responded with a fairly accurate account of the unfolding drama. Our roles
reversed, for now it was Emily who appeared to be in a state of shock. Forbes
had only given her an overview of the crisis and not a detailed description.

 

‘These people are sick!’ she
said. ‘Thank God you’re safe, but what will become of Brigit?’

 

‘I can’t seem to get that off my
mind. These bastards are ruthless but Brigit has no inside knowledge of their
operations and that may be her saving grace.’

 

‘But why murder these innocent
people?
They
didn’t have any inside information.’

 

‘Unfortunately, Em, that’s the
make-up of these bastards. They’ll go to extremes to prove a point.’

 

‘Tom, you do realise that in
assisting Brigit you’ve now placed your own life in jeopardy and possibly mine
for that matter.’

 

‘I’ll call in to the police
station tomorrow about arranging some protection. Anyway that’s enough for
tonight. I need sleep after what’s happened today. We’ll talk further in the
morning.’ I retreated to the bedroom before Emily could muster up another
question.

 

~ * ~

 

It
was nearly nine pm, time to transfer Brigit O’Neill from her temporary
arrangement to the more secure and convenient location of the underground
network. The syndicate had concealed her whereabouts at a farmhouse five
kilometres out of Pedley, an interim measure only until the night provided its
darkened backdrop and the hype of the afternoon had subsided.

 

Two hours earlier Brigit had
awoken from the effects of chloroform. Her right arm had since been untied and
a plate of braised steak and vegetables had been left by her side. Still
feeling light-headed and stressed, she picked away at her food in the confines
of her obscure and quiet surroundings.

 

With the turn of a key, two men
entered the room and placed a black hood over her head. Her right arm was again
secured. She had not seen these two before and wondered if they were Charlie’s
men sent to do his dirty work. No words were exchanged as they led her to an
awaiting vehicle. Brigit could sense she was somewhere in the country, for she
could not detect the sound of passing cars, nor the general noises one becomes
accustomed to in built-up areas. In her blindfolded state, certain sounds had
become more evident. She could hear a cowbell in the distance, and a breeze
hitting a row of nearby trees. Perhaps they were planted to serve as a
windbreak, she thought. The most distinct sound was that of running water,
coupled with the creaking noise of some rotating piece of machinery. Yes, this
was definitely the bush. It even felt and smelt like the countryside.

BOOK: Scorpio's Lot
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