Scorpio's Lot (57 page)

The time had come to leave the
carnival for there were park duties to be finished, and besides, there would be
a further two days of festive activity to be attended and enjoyed. Today the
carnival had proven to be the best tonic.

We dropped Martha off on the way
home, now both feeling a bit tired after all the standing and walking
throughout the day. Whilst the elusive Keeper and Piedpiper may have eluded the
men in blue, it did however, provide a break from the predicable and routine
chores of the caravan park.

~ * ~

t
was late afternoon when a certain envelope became apparent. Delivered to the
outdoor mailbox at the Pedley Police Station, it was marked for the attention
of Alan Forbes Esquire, strictly confidential. The dubious-looking arrival
prompted the detective to call his team into the office to discuss the
enclosure. This supposedly incriminating document had stirred the emotions for
sometime and now the moment had arrived to disclose its contents.

Upon opening and reading the page
aloud to his captivated audience, Forbes seethed at the impertinence shown by
the southern drug boss. The detective’s normally pale face had turned a
distinct shade of red, his plumpish body shaking with fury at the derogative
message.

My Dear Detective Alan Forbes,

Your apparent inability to succeed in the noble art
of detection was indeed our saving grace.
As
explained to my learned friend the Keeper, we
held an unfair advantage due to the constabulary’s lack of conception in knowing
our true identities. May I suggest that when next we meet, either or both of us
has a name plaque like they do at airport arrivals so as to encourage fair play
and sportsmanship.

Yours truly,

The Piedpiper of Pedley

PS. The attached is a list of Traffik personnel,
whom are at your disposal.

‘The bloody insolence of the man!’
fumed Forbes as he glanced at the attachment reflecting the address details of
five individuals.

‘I’ve heard of this Traffik
organisation,’ Doyle claimed. ‘I suggest we phone Bailey who can provide
further details via his database.’

‘I tend to agree,’ responded
Forbes, who immediately dialed for the narcotics detective and placed the call
on loudspeaker.

‘Graeme, as anticipated, the
incriminating document has fronted at the station.’

‘Good, and the contents?’

‘A covering note and a list
containing names and addresses of five Traffik members.’ Forbes recited the
particulars.

‘Ah, the Traffik syndicate. I
might have guessed,’ stated Bailey.

‘What can you tell us about their
operation?’

‘Traffik is a relative newcomer
to the industry that’s made considerable headway in recent years. Word is out
they’re in pursuit of a regional stronghold as a means to both flourish and
survive. Infiltrating these organisations is a near-impossible feat unless word
of mouth is channeled in the right direction. In this instance the Scorpio
organisation feels threatened, due to recently inherited circumstances and
understandably they’ve taken steps to exploit their competitor.’

‘And the five names?’ prompted
Forbes.

‘I’ve looked up my database and
these individuals certainly match our records. Three such listings bear the
names of the hierarchy, but their supreme head known as Indigo is excluded. The
remaining two names are probably their drug distributors.’

‘Why Indigo?’

‘We assume it has something to do
with the artistry behind the syndicate. Within the drug underworld Traffik is
associated with the colours blue and violet, which effectively means the colour
of indigo. I’ve seen this transcribed on stationery and the like -’

‘Martino sighted two men at the
carnival dressed this way,’ interrupted Forbes.

‘There you are. I’ve always
maintained this form of advertising will be their eventual undoing.’ Bailey
said. ‘And what became of these two men?’

‘Unfortunately they gave us the
slip,’ responded Marsh.

‘Graeme, has narcotics ever
investigated this lot?’ Forbes asked.

‘Certainly, but to no avail. They
might as well be an accumulation of any names you wish to conjure up. There’s
simply no traceability and I daresay the names are bogus anyway.’

‘What about the taxation
department?’

‘No, already been down that path.
The important breakthrough here is the list of addresses. I’ll have my men
knock on some doors today.’

‘Very good.’

‘Alan, read out their covering
note you referred to earlier,’ Bailey requested.

After Forbes had complied, the
narcotics detective raised a valid point. ‘There’s one glaring observation -
our drug lord refers to himself as the Piedpiper of Pedley, which means he resides
in the township and not some neighbouring farmland or village as was our
earlier belief. It therefore strengthens the argument in favour of the
subterranean passageways, does it not?’

‘Graeme, a further point we’ve
since learnt about our evasive Piedpiper is the likelihood of there being a
lover involved.’

‘Good god, he’s human after all.’
Bailey reacted with a hint of ridicule.

‘On the contrary, his so-called
partner may prove beneficial to the case,’ counteracted Forbes.

‘On the proviso this person is
identified.’ Bailey continued. ‘We need to get back to the case in hand. Tell
me what happened at the carnival.’

Forbes reiterated the events of
the day, drawing Bailey’s attention to the sighting of the
Molly Bloom
assassin.

‘Who identified this person?’
Bailey asked.

‘Initially Tom Harrison, who in
turn alerted Burke,’ responded Forbes.

‘And he slipped through your
fingers.’

‘With all due respect, we were
dealing with an individual amongst many thousands and only a vague description
to go by.’

‘Seems to be a constant pattern
of obscure characters, doesn’t there? All of whom are evading your every move.
First the Piedpiper, then the Keeper and now this boat assassin. They all
continually vanish at will.’

Rejecting his colleague’s remark,
Forbes said, ‘There’s one person worth further investigation. One of my men
observed the callous behaviour of a certain individual at the Esplanade Hotel
the other evening. With Scorpio in mind, does the name Henry Lloyd and either a
Brad or Bradley, surname unknown, ring any alarm bells?’

‘One moment, Alan. I’ll check the
database.’ After a few moments Bailey said, ‘Nothing on Henry Lloyd, but there
does appear to be something on a Bradley Fisher, alias Brad Morgan, who is
supposedly still employed by the Scorpio syndicate. Details are a bit sketchy,
except to say he’s of English descent and around five-eight, slim build... has
been known to wear a moustache and a beard at some point ... wait a bit, there’s
more on the next page ... oh shit!’

‘What?’ Forbes said.

‘You’re not going to like this.
The guy’s a psychopath with a history of insane murder behaviour. Most of his
victims have been targeted in Europe, where he’s left a trail of hideous
crimes, all of which appear to be drug related in some way or another. The
overseas authorities have had him on their most-wanted list for the past four
years, but he continues to elude them. If this is the same person, and it would
appear to be, then we have a further problem to deal with, I’m sorry to say.
There’s no mention of extreme violence directed at the police, but then again
the guy’s probably too smart to incorporate some vendetta against a law
enforcement agent.’

‘Which explains why the guy was
somewhat lenient with our punishment aboard the
Molly Bloom,’
contributed
Burke.

‘And his description on your
database matches with what I encountered at the Esplanade that evening,’ added
Marsh.

‘What was his intention in
visiting the hotel?’ Bailey asked.

‘He passed some money to one of
the security guards,’ Marsh replied. ‘Claimed to be winnings on a horserace at
Middleton and he was acting on behalf of a bookmaker.’

‘Did you believe his story?’

‘No, but I couldn’t prove
otherwise,’ Marsh said. ‘I checked later with the TAB and they confirmed the
racing result.’

‘Obviously had done his homework,’
said Bailey.

‘I can check out the bookmaker if
you wish.’

‘No need, it’s irrelevant which
way he answers. To my way of thinking it all points to drug money. Did you by
any chance obtain the name of this security person?’ Bailey further questioned.

‘This particular guard called
himself Gavin Jackson,’ Marsh said, ‘but there was also a second security
person that night by the name of Angelo Caresso. I should also mention that the
publican at the Esplanade, Ben Johnson, employs five security guards who all
work on a rotating shift basis. We’ve been told that most of them, if not all,
dabble to some degree in the drug scene.’

‘Speak further with these
security men and see what else you can dig up on our elusive Mr Morgan.’

‘Very good.’

‘Just one more thing before we
finish. You need to speak with Arthur Simpson regarding this underground
network. You maybe able to extract something further, given your only insight
into all of this was by way of Tom Harrison.’

‘Graeme, I have Mr Simpson
waiting outside as we speak. I intend to interview him following our
proceedings,’ stated Alan Forbes.

‘Good, I’ll expect a further
update tomorrow.’

~ * ~

‘Thank
you for your patience, Mr Simpson. Please come through.’ Forbes gestured toward
the office.

Arthur was astounded to see a
room full of officers who appeared to be giving him some sort of assessment as
he approached the one remaining vacant chair. With a number of the constabulary
being out-of-towners the occasion didn’t sit comfortably with the old fellow.
He did, however, recognise the familiar faces of the local constituency, which
somehow softened the impact of the ordeal.

‘Before we begin, can I get you a
cup of tea or perhaps some coffee?’ asked Forbes.

‘A glass of water will be fine,
thank you.’

‘We wish to speak to you
regarding the subterranean passageways. Tom Harrison felt it his public duty to
come forward with the story. I must say the coincidence is remarkable,’ Forbes
commenced.