by Ray Smithies
‘That’s bloody ridiculous,’ Arthur said. ‘It’s over a hundred years ago! Get back to your driving, Hamish.’
‘You realise we’ll have to inform the police about this. Can’t hold back on this evidence from our illustrious Detective Forbes,’ Arthur said.
I groaned. ‘You’re right, but bloody Forbes of all people.’
Wherever this site may prove to be, it was indeed a major breakthrough. Momentum had suddenly taken a giant leap forward. We would revisit the Advertiser in hope of relocating the microfiche that displayed the disused well story, and maybe it would depict the exact location. I had taken the liberty of drawing the star and had noted the various clues. Tomorrow I would go in search of a street map to the required scale. I tried to visualise a circle produced by the three-pointed star, knowing the underground entrances lay somewhere on that drawn ring. And that somewhere lay in wait as our next elusive hurdle. I also realised that without the correct central pivoting point the matter would never be resolved.
~ * ~
F
orbes appeared agitated with the influx of further agents from city office. Twelve officers had arrived to lend their support in apprehending the drug leaders. Numbers, it would appear, was headquarters’ solution to securing earlier arrests. But Forbes wasn’t so sure. He already had sufficient men at his disposal to tackle the day-to-day demands. And now this. Pedley Station was beginning to resemble some bloody police convention, he thought. Damn people everywhere with not even enough room to swing a cat.
He contemplated using his newly acquired backup team to intensify their search for Scorpio HQ. Spread the men and give me some room to breathe, was Forbes’ idea. On top of this the operational units of SOG and Air Wing were on standby. Although somewhat appreciative of the response from headquarters, he was, nonetheless, of the opinion this immediate injection was overkill. Vast numbers would be better served when infiltration of the enemy became assured.
Forbes had briefed the new arrivals on arrival, with the intention of conducting a further meeting in the afternoon, primarily with the subterranean passageways in mind. In the meantime his immediate duty lay elsewhere.
In reception, awaiting the detective’s arrival, sat a nervous Ms Szabo. The unannounced arrival of Martino caught Piochsa unawares.
‘Forbes will see you now,’ Martino said. ‘Please follow me through.’
He led her through to a rear office, a small room containing three chairs and a desk. No pictures hung on the wall. The physical layout gave the impression it was designed to maximise the suspect’s discomfort and sense of powerlessness. A conspicuous observation mirror stretched the length of one wall. Piochsa immediately felt an air of exposure, unfamiliarity and isolation. The interrogation room had heightened her anxieties and she had a compelling sensation to make a run for it. Forbes and Doyle occupied two chairs. Martino gestured for her to take a seat in the remaining vacant one, which looked distinctly uncomfortable. The young constable then left the room.
The pompous detective commenced in an unusual manner, unlike the interviews with Slatttery, Muller and Harrison that required a more direct approach.
‘Ms Szabo, thank you for your attendance,’ Forbes said. ‘Trust you’re well?’
‘I’m fine, detective,’ Piochsa coolly acknowledged.
‘Ah ... the Esplanade. I must say they do pour a good beer. Been working there long?’
‘Around three years part time.’
‘Oh, I didn’t realise. Then the saloon is not your main source of income?’
‘No. I’m a pathologist by day employed by the Pedley Base Hospital.’
The small talk continued. Forbes was a master at the art of interrogation. His initial task would be to determine guilt or innocence regarding drug possession. Was the suspect that sat before him an active member of Scorpio? If proven to be, then the constabulary could lay claim to a monumental breakthrough. He knew it was important to develop a rapport with the Hungarian by using the casual approach to create a non-threatening atmosphere. Forbes’ objective was to encourage conversation with the use of harmless topics prior to the discussion turning to crime. He was well aware that to share some of Piochsa’s interests or beliefs would assist with general talk.
The two progressed through a range of subjects. Conversation rarely faltered. The detective was in his element as he dictated proceedings with relative ease. Piochsa was becoming uncomfortable with this excessive irrelevant gabble. Why not get to the damn subject in question? The reason why I’m bloody here, she said to herself. The ever-quiet Doyle, to this point, continued to be an observer.
Forbes was patient. It was crucial with the evaluation process. His method of questioning was both clever and unsuspecting. He purposely chose an array of subjects to force Piochsa to access different parts of her brain. His non-threatening questions simply required a memory recall, while the remainder forced the creativity or thinking component. From his years of practice, he knew that when a suspect was trying to remember something: the eyes invariably will move to the right. This remembering factor generally signaled a truthful answer. Similarly, with the thinking aspect, the eyes often moved upwards or to the left. This behaviour often indicated deception or guilt. Forbes detected these visual patterns and considered he had Piochsa’s measure. No ravishing beauty was going to persuade him otherwise. He was now ready to apply his technique to the case in hand. Forbes’ third-degree technique was about to be unleashed.
‘So tell me, Ms Szabo, what were you doing handling drugs on the day my men visited the Esplanade?’
‘As I explained to your colleague, the marijuana was found on a ledge below the bar,’ Piochsa replied with an air of sureness.
‘But you were caught in possession.’
‘That I won’t argue, but your detective jumped to conclusions.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘He assumed the drugs belonged to me.’
‘Some consider possession to be nine-tenths of the law,’ said Forbes with a gleam in his eye.
‘Oh, first impressions rule the roost. Sounds like a case of being pronounced guilty before judgment. Is that right?’ Piochsa was not impressed with the detective’s innuendo.
‘Perhaps, Ms Szabo. Let me present the facts and evidence against you. This particular hotel has a history of dubious undertakings. Drugs, and specifically marijuana, have been subject to an excessive amount of trafficking over time. By their own admission, all five security guards employed by this establishment have confessed to illegal trading. Even from the onset, when Brad Morgan surfaced in Pedley, his reoccurring presence at the Esplanade could almost be described as a public relations exercise. And then, of course, don’t overlook hide-away Charlie, who has a lengthy history of wheeling and dealing.’
‘But these instances are the work of others.’
‘Of course. So where does Piochsa Szabo fit into the scheme of things? You are caught in possession with a sizeable quantity. Hardly an amount that’s only intended for personal use. It’s an offence to give away just a smidgen of drug, or pass a joint to someone or in your case handing over some weed
‘That’s bullshit! I’ve done no such thing!’
Ignoring Piochsa’s plea, the intimidating Forbes continued with his arrogant delivery. ‘Ms Szabo, the law doesn’t make any distinction between sharing, giving away or selling. So why the vast amount? My guess is you collaborate with the syndicate, specifically Charlie, and have a clientele base which is unrelated to that of the hotel’s security staff.’
‘Wrong, and you have no proof to suggest otherwise!’ Piochsa couldn’t believe the venom in Forbes’ accusations.
‘Your line of work provides opportunity to pass the illegal substance.’
He deliberately chose this provocative line of questioning to gauge the Hungarian’s reaction. The detective noted her heightened stress levels. To maintain the apparent status quo, he commenced to move around the room and invade her personal space to incre
ase the discomfort. He was a bastard at the best of times, but this demonstration of inflicting guilt prior to establishing innocence was a heartless act. Unimpressed with Forbes’ handling of the interview, Piochsa let fly with a challenging outburst to make her feelings understood.
‘Detective Forbes, you accuse me of drug trafficking. Your argument is based on possession, when in reality the substance could be anybody’s property, and yet you persist with these allegations that are not supported by fact. Your colleague here has had no input and yet he’s the very person who witnessed the event. Let’s hear if he has something more tangible to offer.’
Doyle was a little taken aback by this sudden head-on approach. He hadn’t envisaged Piochsa to be so blatantly forward. In front of his superior, he knew his stance on the matter had to be confident and convincing. To falter in front of Forbes would undermine his credibility.
‘Ms Szabo, you were undeniably caught in possession of drugs,’ Doyle said. ‘You gave the distinct impression of trying to hide something, I recall.’
‘That’s a lie! If you recall correctly, I passed the bag to you immediately. There was no hesitation and I certainly had nothing to hide. I was simply an innocent bystander who happened to stumble across the drugs.
Anyone working in the bar on that day could have found it,’ responded a defiant Piochsa.
‘But no one else did find it. You were alone in the bar preparing for the start of trade and no doubt were contemplating where to hide the substance before the intended deal.’
‘That’s ridiculous and you bloody know it! Tell me, have you questioned other hotel staff regarding my discovery?’
Doyle paused for an uncomfortable moment. He was well aware his enquiries had not achieved anything. He decided on a different tack.
‘Ms Szabo, let me advise you that when the police catch someone with illegal drugs on them, in their home, car or place of employment, they can be prosecuted even if they aren’t using them themselves. If prosecuted and found guilty they will understandably end up with a criminal record. It is, however, a much more serious offence to supply or intend to supply other people with illegal drugs. In both cases, possession for personal use or with intent to sell attracts a prison sentence.’
Forbes watched Piochsa carefully, analysing her reactions and body language. With each stunning attack that required a thought process or a memory of something specific, her eyes invariably moved to the right. Her answers were consistently truthful. There was no hint of deception, no made-up alibi or admission of guilt. Forbes sighed inwardly, knowing full well the suspect was probably innocent. There was inconclusive evidence to hold Piochsa Szabo in custody.
From behind the observation mirror Paul Marsh was livid with the proceedings. His belated return to the station was unavoidable, but he had heard enough to slam their method of interviewing. Understandably he had jumped to Piochsa’s defence, not for one minute believing any indictment against her held sway. Entry into the interrogation room was strictly out of bounds, but later he had every intention of expressing his opinion to Forbes.
The Piedpiper phoned the Keeper and broke the news regarding Morgan’s fate. The delivery was blunt and meticulous in describing the psychopath’s unstable condition, his attack on the church and the underground confrontation which had ultimately led to his death.
‘Like I said, he provoked a life-threatening situation and refused to compromise. There was no alternative but to take control. It was clearly a case of self-defence,’ declared the Piedpiper.
As expected, Victor Marlow’s reaction was one of shock. He rigorously questioned his regional head for the next ten minutes to gain some insight into the killing and why this extreme measure couldn’t be avoided. The Piedpiper was cool, calmly explaining the unfolding sequence of events. Marlow’s third degree was not without challenge and dispute.
‘Make no mistake, Victor, Morgan was the aggressor from the outset.’
Finally coming to his senses, Marlow reluctantly accepted his subordinate’s account of the incident and decided to press on with other matters. Their conversation centred on the police and media presence, in addition to the likelihood of Traffik’s head guru seeking revenge. The discussion was tense and the Piedpiper could detect an underlying fear the Keeper held for Indigo. The regional head decided to change the subject and run a decision pass the supreme leader.
‘I’ve decided to release Brigit O’Neill.’
‘What! Have you lost your senses?’ snapped Marlow.
‘On the contrary, it’s the only sensible thing to do.’
‘How so?’
‘The girl’s become a burden. My men are constantly having to attend to her needs. They’re better served doing something far more constructive than playing carer and cook every day. O’Neill is no threat to the syndicate -’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Her knowledge of the operation is extremely limited and she has no idea where the underground is. Besides, the lie detector test produced no shred of evidence against her and everyone’s identity is still intact. It’s time to let her go, Victor,’ insisted the Piedpiper.
‘Very well. When do you plan her release?’
‘Tomorrow night.’
‘Where will you take her?’
‘She’ll be dropped off in some neighbouring village about fifteen minutes from Pedley to hide the location of the underground.’
‘I need to come down later in the week for further discussions, but
I’ll give you a call when I’ve finalised the day,’ said the Keeper, who immediately hung up the phone.
For a moment the Piedpiper thought over their tense debate. All in all, the outcome was favourable, given Victor had finally come to terms with Morgan’s fate and the release of Brigit O’Neill would assist with boosting resources.
~ * ~
W
hen I pressed the button ‘press for attendance’ at the police station’s reception, young Martino stepped forward to assist me.
‘Hello, Tom, can I help you?’
‘Here to see Forbes with some breaking news, if he’s in.’
‘One moment and I’ll find out.’
Martino returned and beckoned for me to enter the detective’s office.
Forbes remained seated on my entry, without the courtesy of the customary handshake. He simply gestured toward a visitor’s chair. The guy obviously still had some degree of animosity toward me.
‘Mr Harrison, my constable tells me you have some news.’
‘Yes, and quite a breakthrough in the context of things,’ I replied. ‘Oh?’
‘We’ve discovered the meaning and use of the three-pointed star.’
‘What? Better explain yourself.’
‘You’ll recall the Simpson letter that made reference to a mathematical formula in conjunction with a street map. Well, we now have the answer.’
The detective’s eyes lit up.
In my briefing I touched on the five crucial clues that had been provided by Gordon Findlay, including the introduction of an equilateral triangle to assist with the star’s construction.
Forbes seemed somewhat lost with my explanation. ‘I’m becoming confused with all this. Let’s start again, but this time use the whiteboard to show how you derived at the answer.’
I decided to exclude the algebraic formulas that had been chalked on the historian’s blackboard. This would only further confuse Forbes. The best approach was to reconstruct the three drawings in the same sequence that Findlay had displayed. After all, this was self-explanatory and would have more impact than a thousand words. On the completion of each drawing I gave a brief account of each stage, finally revealing the star to an astonished Forbes.
‘Where did you say this information came from?’
‘The Huesmann Historian Group.’
‘So let me get this right. Find a map of Pedley to the specified scale and place this three-pointed star outline on the exact spot.’
‘Yes, b
ut that can only be achieved by finding the location to point four, or as the clue states, the central star well,’ I responded.
‘Which is the disused well you speak of.’
‘Exactly. Once this has been located we have our central pivoting point. We then spin the star producing a circle from any one triangular corner -’
‘And somewhere on that outline will be the three entrances to the underground.’
‘Spot on! The three-pointed star is therefore your tool to locate its hidden whereabouts.’
‘Not quite, Mr Harrison. Even if we locate this so-called central star well, there’s the issue with the circle. Where on this outline does one find the entrances?’
