by Ray Smithies
Indigo instructed his driver to cruise the streets with the purpose of familiarising himself with the town’s layout. Past the police station and hospital in High Street, they turned left into Bridge and travelled the full length via the showgrounds and St Patrick’s Cathedral to the far end. The T-intersection with Baker Street provided a glimpse of the Molly Bloom docked against the backdrop of a fog-shrouded Sapphire Bay.
The foreshore parks and gardens glistened from the moon’s reflection on icicles and frost that would maintain their influence until the morning’s thawing sun. Down the main thoroughfare of Pitt Street, past the Advertiser and Esplanade Hotel and still no sign of life. It was as if Pedley was at their mercy to do with as they wished. A diversion into Covert Road and past Broadbent Warehouse, the drug boss then gave orders to swing around into Market Street and on to their intended temporary address.
At 136 Market Street, directly opposite the Botanical Gardens, the Nissan Patrol swung into the driveway and silently braked to a stop. The five men immediately descended the 4WD to commence the task of unloading luggage and weaponry into the house. Approaching three-thirty am, it was highly unlikely that some inquisitive neighbour would witness the transfer of this vast array of arsenal.
A front door key had been left under a flowerpot to the right-hand side of the entrance. Indigo was both relieved and thankful the Scorpio informant had kept to his side of the bargain. He would pay the man handsomely for his apparent risk in arranging the rental of this property for upwards of a two-week period.
The triple-fronted weatherboard house was a modest piece of real estate. Centrally located but far enough removed from the bustle and exposure of Pitt Street, it would serve the Traffik syndicate well if only for the convenience it presented. It was decided to use the larger front bedroom to assemble and store their vast range of weaponry. The room was a sensible choice, given the wide bay window provided a full frontal view of any street activity.
The assortment of firearms was a sight to behold. Handguns, sniper semiautomatics, and in particular, the M-16 assault rifle would be a disturbing weapon from Scorpio’s perspective. Such was the significance of this rifle; it was often referred to as a killing machine that presented ongoing debate over gun control.
One of the lackeys commenced emptying a small cardboard box containing an array of knives that he strategically placed on a nearby shelf for later selection. All five men continued to fill the bedroom with their selected armory. It was clearly a well-organised drill carried out in a minimum of time. Each man appeared to have a specific task and responsibility for checking a category of weapons.
Indigo lent over to unlock a large metal box to ensure the explosives inside were still intact. The efficiency and professionalism of these men had the entire room of arms checked, assembled and rechecked within the space of fifteen minutes. Scorpio, and perhaps the police, would indeed be up against a formidable opponent.
Indigo’s mobile suddenly vibrated. Their leader appeared unperturbed by the call at this unlikely hour. ‘Yes!’
‘Is the house suitable?’ asked the Scorpio traitor.
‘Ideal choice. You are to be commended on its location.’
‘When do you plan your first assault?’
‘Well, that depends. I need to take weather and other factors into consideration first. What are Broadbent’s working hours?’ enquired Indigo.
‘Generally seven-thirty to six, but overtime could make it as late as nine pm.’
‘And what are their intentions over the next few days?’
‘Overtime applies to Tuesday and Thursday only,’ responded the traitor.
‘Tell me about Saturday.’
‘Eight to twelve religiously. They rarely go past midday.’
‘Good. Now tell me, are you aware of the Piedpiper visiting Broadbent’s premises during this coming week?’ asked the meticulous Indigo.
‘That I don’t know and something that cannot be asked directly -’
‘Which doesn’t help the cause!’ stated Indigo, not allowing the traitor to finish.
‘That’s unfair since I don’t even know the identity of the Piedpiper.’
‘But with your contacts you must hear some rumblings about his movements.’
‘Not lately, but if I do you’ll be the first to know,’ said the traitor.
‘Now, the little task I gave you last week. How are things progressing?’
‘You mean the underground?’
‘Precisely,’ confirmed the Traffik supremo.
‘Like I said, I’ve never had the privilege of being taken to the passageways, but I at least know that one of the entrances is via Broadbent’s.’
‘And this is where they’ll feel the brunt of our initial attack. You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. You name the site, but don’t know where their disguised entrance is,’ responded Indigo with a degree of ridicule.
‘Easier said than done! At least I’ve since learnt that a second entry is beside Sapphire Bay,’ claimed the traitor.
‘Which could be anywhere in the vicinity of a five-kilometre stretch. Anyway, enough said for one night. I’ll be in touch over the next two days. Phone me if you have any worthwhile information. Again thank you for arranging the house,’ concluded Indigo and then hung up on the Scorpio informant.
~ * ~
I
had arranged a meeting with Forbes, pointing out there was some important information to be discussed and it maybe useful if further members of his team were present during the briefing. The appointment was set for ten am and I decided to have Hamish accompany me for moral support.
When we entered the station’s reception, it was young Constable Chris Martino who directed us through to an office where Forbes was seated behind his enormous desk. Again, he didn’t pay us the courtesy of a customary handshake. I was quickly adjusting to his rudeness. In contrast, station chief Ross Whittaker, the four detectives and Darren Burke immediately stood on our entry.
Forbes gestured for us to take our seats while he topped up his mug with espresso coffee. To be expected, the hot black fluid remained on the desktop - he had no intention of sharing his morning’s little luxury. I noticed that his beloved whiteboard hanging behind the desk had been wiped clean in anticipation of this meeting. Yes, all the ingredients were here to suggest that our detective was anticipating some important breakthrough in the case. I decided to start proceedings with my initial concern.
‘Before I enlighten you all with our breakthrough discovery,’ I began, ‘I wish to make the police aware that Arthur Simpson has gone missing and needs to be found.’
‘When did this happen?’ asked Forbes, seemingly unmoved.
‘We’re now into our third day and I for one have become concerned about his whereabouts.’
‘Maybe he’s out of town visiting a friend.’
‘I don’t think so. For starters his car is still parked in the driveway and it’s not like Arthur to suddenly disappear without informing someone. It’s totally out of character for the man, and besides, I would’ve expected some contact, given our close association over the past week or so.’
‘Yes, I believe that to be a reasonable request, given it has passed the mandatory waiting period to act,’ Forbes responded with an air of coldness.
‘Well, I’m relieved to hear that!’ I retaliated with a hint of sarcasm.
Forbes was a heartless prick at the best of times and I didn’t take kindly to his abide-by-the-book approach, particularly when a friend’s welfare may be at risk. There would always be times when rules are meant to be broken, in the name of nipping something in the bud far quicker. Alan Forbes enjoyed playing God and having the authority to say yes or no when it suited him.
‘Another thing is that Arthur tried to reach me on his mobile phone three days ago,’ I said, ‘but when I returned the call there was only a recorded message. He’s since made no further attempt.’
‘I’ll have two of my men commence the
ir investigations this afternoon. We’ll keep you posted on any developments.’
‘Thank you,’ I acknowledged.
‘Now tell us about this breaking news, Mr Harrison,’ Forbes prompted, obviously wanting to get on with the case in hand.
‘To come straight to the point we’ve found the location to the central star well,’ I declared, enjoying the faces of the astonished constabulary.
‘What! This better be convincing, Harrison. I’m in no mood for games after assembling a number of resources here this morning,’ said Forbes.
‘And where might this be, Tom?’ questioned the more positive Whittaker.
‘The right traffic light north side on Pitt where it intersects with Williams Street –‘
‘But I thought we were looking for a well, not a bloody traffic light,’ said Forbes with his irritating habit of interrupting.
‘Let me explain in more detail. When we last spoke it was agreed that without the true location of the central star well or point four on the template, the rest of the puzzle would fall into obscurity.’
‘Yes, I recall. Go on,’ said Forbes impatiently.
‘We’ve all been to the intersection and studied the possibilities, but of course never to unearth the true location until now. Our breakthrough came by way of a report we read at the local Advertiser. The article made reference to the well’s final days back in March 1903. Apparently it had become an obstruction to horses and carts that frequented the route, and by its removal and subsequent filling, it allowed sufficient path to permit two-way traffic.’
‘It still doesn’t tell us much, and besides, you’ve already referred to this well site at the intersection of Pitt and Williams,’ Forbes said.
‘On the contrary it tells us a great deal. For starters it confirms once and for all we have the correct intersection. We immediately returned to the site and Hamish noticed that one of the traffic lights was nearly two metres lower than its counterpart. Considering the two lights were erected on level ground we found this to be curious, and as a result we decided to do some investigating,’ I explained to my captive audience.
‘Why didn’t you inform me at this point?’
‘Because at that stage we lacked proof,’ I responded to Forbes’ stupid comment and then continued.
‘Our first point of call was the lands department here in Pedley, where we soon discovered there had been a history of rework performed at this very spot. The cause given was the reoccurrence of unstable ground. Torrential rain had eroded the foundations and subsequently the shire’s sub-contractor in Fletcher and Haines were called on for repairs. The two most recent cases were back in October of 1988 and April of 2001.’
‘I’m aware of Fletcher and Haines. They’re affiliated to the Board of Works, I believe,’ Whittaker claimed.
‘That’s correct. Hamish and I then went to their Anderson Street premises where we met a person called Luke. Now here’s the interesting bit. Luke claimed he did the job in April 2001 and remembered it well.’
‘Oh, how so?’ queried Forbes.
‘He recalled the work was carried out following a heavy downpour and the extent of erosion had surprised everyone onsite. Double the amount of fill was used, as was the tar they laid. Luke referred to the spot as a weird piece of ground because it gave the impression that a giant hole loomed below the surface. He told us that more fill could have been used on that day.’
‘Did he tell you anything else?’
‘Because of Board of Works standards and regulations, Luke is absolutely certain the pole was reset at the same height as its counterpart. A few years on and the same traffic light pole has sunk nearly two metres,’ I declared with a sense of triumph.
Forbes and his men appeared astounded by this unusual but convincing piece of information.
I continued. ‘So we can only conclude that the site below the traffic light is indeed the central star well. The coincidences are too numerous to ignore. Consider the widening of Pitt Street following the removal of the well, in addition to the star well being slightly off centre, which is where our traffic light is located,’ I added.
‘I totally agree,’ declared Forbes, unable to hide his enthusiasm.
For Alan Forbes to be the first to express his endorsement was true recognition. I finally had the pompous fool giving us some well-deserved credit. My next piece of information would undoubtedly have his brain cells working in overdrive.
‘With the star well site revealed, Hamish and I went back to my office to place our template on a map to the specified scale. From what we now believe to be the correct location of the central star well, I inscribed the long awaited true circle with the aid of a protractor from point four.’
‘Did you bring the map?’ asked Forbes impatiently.
‘Yes.’ I reached into my jacket pocket and spread the map in front of them.
Everybody stepped forward to take up a vantage point around this vast desk. Nine men peered down at the circle inscribed on the map. There was silence for nearly a minute while they studied the penciled route. I decided to elaborate on the nine specified landmarks.
‘You can clearly see the circle encompasses some well-known Pedley landmarks -’
Again the interrupting Forbes stole the limelight. His beloved whiteboard was just begging to be written on.
‘Mr Harrison, would you please call out these sites in clockwise order and I’ll write them down on my board.’
‘Certainly.’
‘I see your park comes into consideration,’ said Forbes.
‘I wouldn’t take too much notice of that.’
‘Oh, and why not, if I may ask?’
‘Other than being directly below a permanent building, I have turned my place upside down and couldn’t find anything remotely suspicious. If by some unexplained reason an entrance is to be found, then logic tells me there should be evidence of unstable foundations. Each building still sits as true as the day it was erected.’
‘Fair point,’ Forbes acknowledged.
‘Hamish and I took the liberty of assessing these landmarks and as you can appreciate some sites were outside our jurisdiction. Let me give you an overview of these places you see on your whiteboard and what we’ve considered to be your shortlist of candidates.’
For the next few minutes I had the undivided attention of Forbes’ task force. On the completion of my presentation, which incidentally was delivered without interruption, I turned to my audience and declared, ‘So there we have it, our unbiased synopsis.’ I returned the black marker to its resting place.
‘I must say I’m impressed, given your limitations to access,’ said Whittaker. ‘What do you make of these nine sites, Tom? And what are your thoughts on the likely choices?’
‘Because we lack the final clue to accurately locate points one, two and three on the star, I can only give you an opinion with no hard evidence. To begin with, logic tells me a building or structure is more feasible to hide a secret passageway than that of open land. A site like the botanical gardens or the Pedley market is more vulnerable to discovery, because of the sheer numbers of people who have walked these grounds throughout the years.’
‘That’s a reasonable assessment,’ acknowledged Forbes.
‘I came to the conclusion the Advertiser and Regency Nightclub appear to be unlikely candidates, because both are relatively new buildings when compared to other sites.’
‘I don’t quite understand,’ Gallagher said.
‘Both are large structures that cover their respective sites entirely. Given the foundations required to support these buildings, you’d think a passageway would have been unearthed during excavations,’ I responded.
‘Makes sense,’ offered a further detective.
‘My hunch suggests O’Riley’s, St Patrick’s, the RSL or Broadbent Warehouse. All four establishments have been around for decades where little or no disturbance to the land has transpired. Sure there have been cosmetic facelifts and some rework carried out,
but primarily their basic structures have remained intact.’
‘Meaning any chance of stumbling across some lost passageway has subsequently been placed on hold,’ offered Marsh.
‘Precisely. Also bear in mind these four sites are likely to contain a basement of some sort. So in other words this short list conjures up more possibilities for the police to investigate,’ I added for good measure.
I briefly touched on the Advertiser’s article regarding road reconstruction, changes to street names and the relocation of some commercial premises. I explained this all occurred back in 1859, as a result of a major drainage system being installed. I also mentioned our suspicions with the underground in mind. Forbes appeared intrigued with our concept, stating that it may have been purposely constructed to either pinpoint or protect the passageways. I finally returned to the matter surrounding the central star well. It undoubtedly deserved some further mileage.
