by Ray Smithies
‘Let me put it to you this way. There are some businesses today that are using polygraph tests to screen potential employees. Although the majority of employers are prohibited by law to carry out such tests, there are exceptions to the rule for government contractors, public employees, security personnel and those in the drug company industry. Theft and industrial espionage investigations can also be included, but these results are not necessary admissible as evidence in the judiciary system. There have been cases where it has been permissible on the grounds that both parties agree to their use.’
‘All sounds rather interesting, whether you’re a believer or not,’ said Bradbury.
‘Okay, then let’s get started so we can find out where we stand with the O’Neill girl.’ The regional head was becoming impatient to start proceedings.
Placing a balaclava over his head, Bradbury departed to fetch the girl while the Piedpiper retired to the adjacent room to watch over proceedings.
It was only a short walk to the confines of Brigit’s cell, where she had been left unattended for the past six hours. Upon the turn of the key Bradbury sensed a movement within as he entered the bluestone dwelling. He found Brigit sitting on the edge of her bed looking apprehensive at the sight of this hooded visitor invading her humble surroundings. This was one of the two men who brought me into this godforsaken world of stone and skulls, she thought. Forever the defiant one, she ignored his gestures to accompany him on some further expedition.
‘Please don’t make this difficult for yourself, Miss O’Neill. Would you please come with me?’ asked Bradbury in a polite manner.
Giving no verbal response, Brigit reluctantly rose from her bed and followed the masked man, wondering where in the hell this joker was leading her. Five rooms further down the passageway her court jester suddenly stopped and indicated her entry was required and to be seated upon the central chair. He proceeded to attach a series of different sensors to various body parts, arousing Brigit’s suspicion that something sinister was about to unfold. This included a blood pressure cuff wrapped around her upper arm, together with a galvanometer placed upon her fingertips to measure the amount of sweat she produced. To test her respiratory rate, two rubber tubes were connected to her chest and abdomen to monitor muscle expansion. She resembled a terrorist all wired up and looking like a walking time bomb.
Not surprisingly, these procedures were starting to raise her anxiety levels. She cast an eye around the room, which appeared identical in size to her own but lacked the comforts of the former despite a blow-heater working overtime in the corner. A large wall mirror was centrally located and she wondered if they were being viewed from the other side as seen on television crime shows.
‘I’m about to conduct a lie detector test but I assure you there is no need for alarm. I will ask you a series of questions to which you will answer truthfully. Do you understand?’ said Neville Bradbury.
‘Yes,’ replied Brigit.
‘Very well, let’s begin. What is your full name?’
‘Brigit Anne O’Neill.’
‘And where is your home address?’
‘Number eight Maple Crescent, Pedley.’
Following a number of routine questions that would supposedly reflect truthful answers, the line of enquiry now took on a more serious intent. Up to this moment the Piedpiper had observed no irregular movements coming from the pointer as it inscribed its zigzag recordings upon the printout. Additionally, Brigit appeared to be at ease with the line of questioning thus far.
‘Are you employed by the syndicate?’
‘Yes.’
‘In what capacity?’
‘I sell marijuana on the street.’
‘And who is your clientele base?’
‘Juveniles, including senior schoolchildren.’
‘And who is your source of supply?’
‘A person called Charlie.’
‘Can you describe this person?’
‘Only vaguely.’
‘Oh, how so?’
‘The man’s around six feet tall and is heavily built. He always wears a long coat and a hat that covers most of his face.’
‘Would you recognise him in a crowd without his hat and coat?’
‘I doubt it.’
‘Have you ever sold harder drugs?’
‘No.’
The graph paper continued to record short spans, not once enabling the pointer to inscribe its incriminating long sweeping line. Determined to speak the truth and triumph over this bloody contraption, Brigit managed to maintain her composure and nerve throughout the experiment. The Piedpiper was observing one very cool subject through the glass panel.
‘How well did you know Jake Reynolds?’
‘We were a couple, so naturally I knew him well.’
‘Leading up to his accident, did he speak about the -’
‘It was murder!’ Brigit cut in.
‘As I was about to ask, did he discuss any drug matters?’
‘Occasionally, but nothing too heavy.’
‘Can you elaborate?’
‘Jake disapproved of teenagers taking dope, claiming it would ruin their lives and that the supply of drugs was too readily available.’
‘Was he aware of your involvement?’
‘No, he wasn’t.’
‘And why was that?’
‘Had he known it would have meant the end of our relationship.’
‘Did he ever discuss any other aspect of drugs?’
‘Not to speak of.’
‘I’ll put it in another way. Do you know if he witnessed any drug-related incidents?’
‘Jake briefly touched on the local syndicate being a dangerous lot and that he had witnessed an ugly scene in the park.’
‘What did he tell you about this incident?’
‘That there was a bashing over some drug business.’
‘And what business might that have been?’
‘He never discussed the matter any further.’
‘Come now, Miss O’Neill. Do you really expect me to believe that?’
‘I don’t give a shit if you believe me or not, your frigging machine will provide you with the answers!’
Up till now her answers had resulted in the pointer maintaining a regular pattern on the printout. Whether her emotions had contributed or not, the monitor suddenly went into a frenzy of longer and irregular swipes, prompting the Piedpiper to pause and record some notes. A raw nerve had been struck and it was important for Neville Bradbury to persevere with the subject in hand.
‘Back to this incident in the park. Did Jake by any chance mention what the topic of conversation was?’
‘No.’
‘Are you quite sure?’
‘Yes. As I said, he only spoke of the bashing but didn’t or wouldn’t elaborate.’
‘That strikes me as odd. A bashing generally requires a reason and yet neither of you discussed the subject any further?’
‘Bloody hell, my words are falling on deaf ears.’
‘Tell me, what you know about the syndicate?’
‘No, I’ll ask you a question for a change. Why are you people so bloody persistent with all this interrogation? I can’t understand what it is you’re trying to get out of me. I have fully cooperated with this test of yours, but now my patience is wearing thin. Once and for all, what is it that you need to know? Just spit it out!’
Neville Bradbury was totally unprepared for this unexpected outburst. He hadn’t anticipated his subject to reverse the roles. He deliberated for a moment, giving Brigit the impression he wasn’t sure how to continue with the line of questioning.
‘We’ll break for ten minutes,’ he finally said.
The Broadbent manager retreated, leaving Brigit to ponder over this sudden development. She sensed her behaviour had prompted the hooded man to reassess the situation and that he had departed to consult the matter with his superior. Had the test now terminated, or would his line of questioning recommence with its monotonous rout
ine and degree of predictability? Perhaps upon his return he would be accompanied by some lackey who took delight in using physical force to extract information.
~ * ~
‘You’ve lost control of the experiment!’ the regional head told Bradbury, holding a printout of the conversation.
‘On the contrary, the test has reached an interesting point where her position could be described as vulnerable,’ said Bradbury.
‘How?’
‘These last few questions have finally stirred her emotions.’
‘But her current emotional state doesn’t necessarily mean she’s lying,’ insisted his superior.
‘That may be so, but -’
The regional head cut short Bradbury’s response. ‘You need to continue, with emphasis on the syndicate’s operations. It’s vital that we uncover the extent of her knowledge.’
‘Certainly.’
‘Also be sure to mention Jake Reynolds’ encounter in the park again, and in particular, those incriminating discussions he overheard.’
‘And if she refers to the underground and its operations?’ asked Bradbury.
‘Then question the locality only,’ dryly responded his boss. ‘Remember, Tom Harrison’s fate rests squarely on the outcome.’
~ * ~
Half-expecting an entourage of evil-doers to return, Brigit was relieved to see only her joker re-enter the room to continue with his unfinished work. With the sensors repositioned, Bradbury was ready to proceed with the interrogation.
‘Now back to Jake Reynolds’ episode in the park, which I hadn’t quite completed. Tell me, did he discuss any part of the conversation he overheard that night?’
‘We’ve already been through this before and again my answer is no. He spoke only of someone yelling, which led to a bashing, and told me to avoid these people at all costs. He wouldn’t elaborate any further because he didn’t want to alarm me with all the violent details.’
‘Did he mention what was being yelled out?’
‘No. This is bloody ridiculous - you simply can’t take no for an answer! The yelling was probably a series of idle threats he didn’t elaborate on. I cannot tell you any more because there is none to give. Do you have the sense to realise we’re going around in circles with this line of questioning?’ Brigit was allowing her frustrations to surface.
‘Again I’ll repeat my earlier question. Tell me what you know about the syndicate.’
‘Not much, other than my supply and deals on the street. Charlie and only Charlie provides the dope and certain individuals and groups are my regular clientele.’
‘Do you sell any hard drugs?’
‘I’ve already answered no to that.’
‘Do you ever use some of your own spoils?’
‘No.’
‘Miss O’Neill, have you any idea where this underground network is located?’ Bradbury was deliberately changing his tactics to assess what reaction this loaded question would bring.
Brigit paused to consider the possibilities. She had often thought about its likely whereabouts, but logic told her the locality could only be somewhere in the bush. Unbeknown to a blindfolded Brigit, the syndicate had purposely confused her into believing the five kilometre journey from the Molly Bloom to the farmhouse was around a half-hour trip. Despite the chloroform, they were not prepared to run the risk of her regaining consciousness and having the location recognised. Later into her captivity, the brief excursion to reach the Pedley underground entrance took only ten minutes, giving Brigit the illusion of still being in the countryside.
‘Somewhere in the bush would be my guess.’
‘Any idea where?’
‘How can I answer that when you people had me blindfolded?’
‘You’re not answering my question.’
‘It’s probably around half an hour or so in any direction from Pedley.’
‘Are you certain about your diagnoses?’
‘Yes!’
‘Miss O’Neill, that concludes our test for today. Would you please accompany me back to your room.’
After returning Brigit to the confines of her bluestone abode, the Broadbent manager proceeded in the direction of the Piedpiper’s chambers to deliberate over the test results. He entered the room to see his superior in deep thought, studying the graph printout at length.
‘Was the test procedure to your satisfaction?’ asked Bradbury.
‘Yes. Some flaws here and there but overall a convincing result.’
‘Can you tell already?’
‘If there’s been consistency it’s very much immediate.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, in Brigit’s case there were no irregularities other than the emotional outburst when you decided to pause proceedings,’ responded the Piedpiper.
‘Did that part of the test indicate anything?’
‘No, that little rebellious act was no more than letting out some aggravated tension.’
‘Then have you reached a conclusion?’
‘I have. The O’Neill girl was telling the truth and in many respects that’s a big relief considering the location to this underground was at stake.’
‘So what happens to the girl now she’s no longer a threat?’ questioned Bradbury.
‘She’ll remain here for a while and then we’ll decide her fate.’
‘And Tom Harrison’s future?’
‘Neville, you’ve never met the man, have you?’ asked the Piedpiper.
‘No.’
‘Nice chap, actually. Pity he got mixed up in all this business. Tom’s no longer a threat since he was never privy to any worthwhile knowledge.’
~ * ~
It was nine am when James Slattery and Kurt Muller arrived at the Pedley Police Station. They had been summoned by the station head to attend an interview, each having no prior knowledge of the intended subject for discussion. They were ushered into Alan Forbes’ office, where they sat waiting for him. A whiteboard covered by an oversized sheet hung on the wall directly behind his desk. James wondered what could be hidden. He visualised some theatrical act where the detective would reveal their committed crimes with a flick of his wrist. James felt tempted to peep, but in a moment the opportunity was lost as the pompous detective, together with Whittaker, walked into the room.
‘Gentlemen, thank you for your attendance. We’ll come straight to the point as we don’t have a great deal of time,’ said Forbes.
‘The other morning I observed the two of you conferring downtown,’ said Whittaker. ‘Can you tell me what that was all about?’
‘We had a chat about cars and doing some fishing together. What’s the crime in that?’ questioned Muller in his typical challenging way.
‘None whatsoever. Mr Slattery, I saw you transfer a package and it would be appreciated if you could enlighten us as to the contents.’
‘I’ve already been through this with Detective Marsh.’
‘I’m well aware of that, but I need you to tell me.’
‘It was a carburettor.’
‘Yes, that coincides with Marsh’s report. Mr Muller, my sergeant informs me that your statement claimed the same package contained fishing tackle, is that correct?’
Kurt Muller had now turned decisively uncomfortable. His face turned red with this unexpected development. He appeared lost on how to respond to the policeman’s remark.
‘Mr Muller, is that correct?’ Whittaker persisted.
‘Yes,’ he replied quietly.
‘Good, we finally have that matter settled. So what will it be gentlemen, the carburettor or the fishing tackle?’
Neither came forward with an explanation. Forbes sat at his desk observing their uncomfortable behaviour. Like Whittaker, he stared at both men waiting for an answer. Unable to control his patience any longer, he let fly with a damning insinuation.
‘Neither of you has the guts to speak the truth. I’m beginning to think that package contains something far sinister. Mr Muller, do you still have thi
s box?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good, Detective Marsh will accompany you back to the caravan park to inspect the contents.’
The body language that Alan Forbes was observing indicated that his accusation had hit a bullseye. What in the hell were these two hiding? And were the contents incriminating in some way? He continued with the questioning.
