Scorpio's Lot (93 page)

When we arrived back at the
office I spread the map across the reception desktop and retrieved my makeshift
template from one of the nearby drawers. The excited noise generated by Hamish
and I had attracted Emily to see what the commotion was all about. I informed
my wife about our discovery, telling her we were about to witness the
disclosure of a two-hundred-year-old secret.

A hush came over the room as I
placed the triangle in the precise star well location. Ignoring the pivot
concept, I chose instead to transfer the measurement between point four and one
of the triangular corners with the aid of a protractor. It served to produce an
easy drawn circle and the subsequent result would be the same.

The three of us watched as the
penned outline completed its circumference. We commenced assessing which
landmarks the circle had been drawn on. The variety of sites was interesting to
say the least. Reaching for a notepad, I started to write these down in their
clockwise order for future reference. I was about to get the shock of my life.

The Advertiser

RSL Club

St Patrick’s Church

Regency Nightclub

Broadbent Warehouse

Pedley Market

O’Riley’s Inn

Botanical Gardens

Harrison’s Caravan Park

With the last entry I nearly had
a coronary.

‘What the ... surely not here!’ I
yelled as if there was some mistake. It sounded like a mixture of disbelief and
protest.

Emily immediately responded to my
abrupt reaction. ‘Not necessarily. You’re jumping the gun, Tom. There are nine
sites listed and only three contain an entrance to the subterranean
passageways. For goodness sake, get a grip on yourself!’

‘Guess you’re right,’ I conceded,
returning to reality.

‘Wow, that’s quite a handful of
well-known landmarks and to think we’ve narrowed it down to this lot,’ declared
the exited Irishman.

Ignoring Hamish’s remark, I
pursued the possibility. ‘But Em, it’s quite feasible we could be standing on
the underground network.’

‘That I won’t deny but it’s
highly unlikely. I’m sure we would have stumbled across something long before
now,’ she reasoned.

On this occasion I couldn’t agree
with Emily’s logic. We simply didn’t know and therefore the park could not be
ruled out. I decided to keep my opinion to myself in fear of having a domestic.
Sensing that Emily didn’t take kindly to the idea of a subterranean world
directly beneath her, it was time to press on with some further analysis.
Hamish came to the rescue with a rather predicable comment.

‘Which three sites would be your
logical choices?’ he asked Emily.

‘How in the hell would I know
that, Hamish?’ she responded, which didn’t help defuse the sudden tension.

‘We can speculate all we want,
but it’s impossible to even select one at this stage, let alone three sites,’ I
declared.

‘Of course,’ Emily concurred.

‘I wonder what the police would
make of this,’ said Hamish.

‘Interesting. Maybe they’re privy
to something that’s off limits to the public. I mean, they may have their
suspicions already,’ I reasoned.

Conversation momentarily ceased.
Emily decided she had had enough and excused herself to resume work. Hamish and
I continued to stare at the circle on the map. Which three sites? I kept
repeating to myself. What possible clue could align the triangle in its one
true fixed position?

~ * ~

There
was a persistent ring from the Piedpiper’s mobile phone. In anticipation that a
quiet day lay ahead, the caller was about to change the regional head’s
foreseeable plans.

‘Hello.’

‘Piedpiper?’

‘Speaking.’

‘This is Marcus Powell. I’m
calling to inform you of some grave news,’ commenced the Keeper’s 2IC.

‘Oh, what seems to be the
problem, Marcus?’

‘Victor Marlow has been murdered.’

‘My god! What happened?’

‘Our source advises it was the
work of Indigo, with assistance from four of his Traffik thugs.’

The Piedpiper stared into
oblivion, finding it difficult to comprehend this sudden news. Silence reigned
for a while.

‘Are you still there?’

‘Yes, Marcus, I’m just in shock,’
replied the Piedpiper. ‘Tell me what Indigo has done with Victor?’

‘Together with his bodyguard, Max
Kirby, the pair were placed in the MG and then crushed to death by some car
compactor here in the city,’ he informed.

‘Bloody hell! When did this
happen?’

‘Last night some time. We can
only assume that Indigo followed the Keeper on his return trip from Pedley,’ he
advised.

‘That throws a spanner in the
works. Where does Scorpio go from here?’

‘We’ve had a meeting today and it’s
been agreed that during the interim period I’ll take on a caretaker role until
we appoint a successor.’

‘Very well... and what do you
require of the southern operation?’ questioned the Piedpiper.

‘At this stage I just need to
know what instructions Victor had left with you.’

‘With all due respect to poor
Victor, his latest orders were totally unrealistic.’

‘In what way?’ Powell queried.

‘He issued orders to
substantially reduce existing stock. I explained that not only do we lack
resources, but with all the current police and media presence we cannot rely on
the usual logistics for fear of being caught,’ explained the regional head.

‘Did you suggest some other way
to Victor?’

‘Yes, with a number of car trips.
We would never get a truck out of Pedley without a search. The car option is at
least achievable because it’s less conspicuous, but it would be a
time-consuming exercise.’

‘And did Victor agree to your
suggestion?’

‘Yes, but I must add it was on
the proviso that he would provide us with a further person,’ informed the
Piedpiper.

‘Victor spoke of this over the
phone yesterday. It was considered a reasonable request given headquarters’ demand,
so I’ve taken the liberty of arranging for a further person to arrive in Pedley
tomorrow. His name is Gino Palmero and he’s been instructed to report to
Neville Bradbury at Broadbent’s around six o’clock.’

‘Thank you, Marcus, the extra
hand will help a great deal.’

‘Now this leads me to the
unpleasant task of informing you that your life may well be in danger,’
declared Marcus Powell.

‘Oh, from whom?’

‘The word is out that Indigo’s
appetite for revenge is not over by simply removing Victor. He’s apparently
after your scalp next and plans to visit Pedley to square the ledger. Two
Traffik murders equates to the same number for Scorpio is the mentality of this
guy,’ Powell advised.

‘But I had nothing to do with the
hill atrocity. That was the work of Brad Morgan,’ explained the Piedpiper.

‘Indigo is not aware of that. In
his mind the ultimate responsibility lies with the regional head. All I can say
is be careful and watch your back for a while and use the sanctum of your
underground network to your advantage.’

‘Of course. Do headquarters have
a description of Indigo by any chance?’ asked the Piedpiper.

‘He’s reputed to be a man of
around forty-three, about six feet and of average build. One noticeable feature
is a tattoo on the outer side of his left wrist, which is supposedly a picture
of a Chinese dragon. Not surprisingly the tattoo is depicted in the colours of
blue and violet, or to be more precise, indigo. On the downside, the tattoo is
relatively small and can be partially hidden when he wears a watch.’

‘Not much to go on. Average
height, average build and probably average appearance. I mean the guy might as
well be wearing a mask. He could be just about anyone walking pass in the
street. The advantage is strictly his.’

‘Masked or not, your theory is
irrational,’ said Powell. ‘Aren’t you forgetting one thing? Your own identity
is still intact. To my way of thinking it would make Indigo and the Piedpiper
on level terms, would it not?’

‘Yes, I guess you’re right,
Marcus,’ responded the regional head unconvincingly. ‘At least I have some idea
of the size of this guy and that tattoo may yet prove useful.’

‘Just one more thing. Once we’ve
elected the new Scorpio head, arrangements will be made for this person to
visit Pedley for a briefing. I’m sorry you had to learn of Victor’s untimely
death, but as you can appreciate the syndicate must now focus on the future and
not dwell on its past,’ Powell concluded and hung up.

The Piedpiper was left to ponder
over this horrendous news. Victor had always held the southern operation in
high esteem, but with the imminent appointment of a new leader, would Pedley
retain its expectant privileges? The regional head was beginning to feel
distinctly uncomfortable about the idea.

~ * ~

‘I’ve
got my doubts this would be one of the sites,’ I answered with a degree of
certainty.

‘Don’t you think you’re being a
bit hasty to -’

‘Hamish, I spent hours looking
around the place yesterday. Other than under our house, the games room as well
as the shower and laundry block, I’ve searched everywhere. There is nothing to
suggest a secret entrance was created some two hundred years ago on this site.’

‘But what if there’s something
under one of these buildings?’

‘Think it through. When the
foundations were laid, surely they would have come across some degree of
unstable ground. If by some chance it was not picked up, then logic tells me
that time would have brought about some structural problem. Take a good look at
these buildings today and there’s no sign of earth movement,’ I declared.

‘Okay, point taken, but what
about around the cliff edge? That area has to be considered as well,’ persisted
Hamish.

‘Again I would say no. You’ve got
to remember that back then the authorities lived in stone houses erected above
the three entrances. Why on earth would they build an extremely heavy stone
building beside a cliff edge? Even in my short time we’ve had part of the cliff
break away. I mean it would forever be in danger of collapsing. It just doesn’t
make sense,’ I reasoned.

‘Um ... sounds convincing.’

‘Hamish don’t get me wrong,
anything is possible, my friend, but to be here I have extreme doubts.’

‘So where do we go from here?’
asked the Irishman.

‘We need to check out the other
eight sites, but it can only be a casual look. We don’t have the authority to
carry out a thorough search. You got away with your shire impersonation before,
but not here.’

‘Oh.’

‘Come on Hamish, use your head.
Do you really expect we would be allowed to snoop around the likes of St
Patrick’s, the Regency Nightclub or the RSL?’ I grumbled back.

‘All right then,’ said Hamish, a
little taken back with my aggression.

‘So let’s do the rounds,
commencing with the
Advertiser’
I suggested.

A short trip to the newspaper
outlet provided no leads. It was simply a large, uninteresting building that
sat squarely on its entire block. A short concrete driveway to the one side
provided entry to a warehouse. If the
Advertiser
were to be a serious
contender, then access to the underground would need to be by way of an
internal opening. Perhaps a jackhammer or similar tool would be required to
smash through the concrete base? Our recent visit to their archive vaults
reinforced the idea of some form of destruction, for the whole place sat
squarely on a vast and solid area of concrete pavement.