by Ray Smithies
‘Will you shut up!’ snapped the provoked intruder, who then produced a gun to assist with proceedings.
A terrified silence immediately filled the room. His weapon had an instantaneous effect. Ben Johnson’s bulging eye’s appeared to almost drop from their sockets.
‘Everybody is to empty their pockets and place their belongings on the table, now!’
A short fumbling of personal effects followed.
‘Introductions, if you would, Mr Harrison,’ persisted the intruder.
I chose to disobey his instruction, despite the persuasion of firearms. I wasn’t about to divulge each person’s name to satisfy this stranger’s whim. Protecting the committee’s identities seemed paramount given this man’s aggressive demands.
‘Suggest you cooperate with me, Mr Harrison, otherwise you’ll regret this reluctant and foolish attitude.’
I continued to remain defiant.
It was Darren Burke who made his feelings known. ‘Tom, just tell him.’
‘If you persist with this stupidity I’ll instruct my men to target a certain individual at your caravan park. The apparent consequences shouldn’t be too difficult to work out,’ the man threatened, reaching for a mobile and commencing to dial.
‘Stop!’ I yelled back, not wanting Emily to confront these thugs. ‘I’ll tell you. In clockwise order from my left we have Darren Burke representing law, Richard Smyth local council, Martha Kellett education and charity, Helen O’Neill ratepayers, Stephen Buchanan finance, Ben Johnson business, Ashley Collins media and myself representing hospitality.’
He continued to study each individual. His intimidating mannerisms were frightening, particularly for Martha and Helen who appeared to be shaking with fear.
Enjoying central stage and with the occasional flare for the theatrics, the man obviously thought there was no immediate threat in divulging his intentions to this somewhat puny group.
‘Now that wasn’t too difficult. I’ll come straight to the point. The purpose of our visit tonight is to be shown the entrance to the subterranean passageways. Please don’t insult my intelligence by naming Broadbent Warehouse, for this site has already become common knowledge, and besides, it’s probably teeming with cops as we speak. What I’m referring to is the remaining two entrances and rumour has it, Mr Harrison, that you are in the know.’
‘Only to a point,’ I responded.
‘Oh, then please enlighten me.’
‘We narrowed the remaining sites to be the Botanical Gardens and the RSL Club, but as to the actual entrances, they’ve yet to be found.’
‘Mr Harrison, don’t take me for a fool. I’ll give you one more chance to cooperate.’ The man reached for a silencer to thread onto the gun barrel.
My eyes widened like those of Ben Johnson earlier. I heard a short sharp cry from Martha.
Darren Burke spoke up. ‘Who are you people?’
‘How rude of me. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Indigo, supreme head of the Traffik Syndicate -’
‘Yes I’m aware of you lot. You’re the murdering bastards we believe were responsible for the Covert Road atrocity,’ said Burke, cutting him short.
‘And who may I ask is “we”?’
‘The police. I’m Sergeant Darren Burke, based here in Pedley.’
‘Thought there was a stench in the room,’ replied the provocative Indigo, quickly assessing if the policeman’s attire included any further weaponry or communication.
‘Murderous bastards!’ repeated Darren.
‘Whether we claim responsibility or not is irrelevant. My only interest is in locating an entrance,’ claimed the defiant Traffik leader.
‘What’s your interest in this underground network?’
‘To destroy Scorpio and the Piedpiper once and for all. Enough of this talk.’ Indigo pointed his gun in my direction. ‘Now, Mr Harrison, can we get back to the whereabouts of these entrances? This is your last chance to provide me with the answer.’
‘I’m telling you the truth, I simply don’t know!’ I responded desperately.
‘You’re asking the wrong person,’ Darren said. ‘I know the answer if you’ll put that gun to one side.’
‘Very well, sergeant, out with it!’ ordered Indigo, maintaining his aim.
‘The RSL site is correct. The entrance lies beneath a small bricked building to the rear of the club.’
‘How ironic and convenient. And how did you come to know of this?’
‘As a result of a search we conducted two days ago. A staircase leads from a trapdoor down to a bluestone basement. We believe the entrance is behind the stone wall.’
‘So why the delay?’
‘Because you bastards blew up Broadbent’s!’ said Darren.
‘Such is life,’ responded the heartless drug leader.
The Traffik leader then contemplated the appropriate course of action. In consultation with his two lackeys, their conversation had a local plan and was within ear’s reach of the committee members. The RSL provided Indigo with two scenarios and I could distinctly hear the man’s authoritative tone override his subordinate’s objections. He stated that the convenience was one thing, but the immediate risk was apparent. If only Darren Burke was to accompany them to the entrance site, the remaining seven people would be left behind to alert the authorities. To reach the subterranean passageways before the enevitable was an impossible task, since a sledgehammer would be required to smash through the stone wall. There was no alternative but to take all eight people. To instruct one of his lackeys to stay behind and keep watch over the remaining committee seemed ludicrous. Indigo then further explained he would require every resource when confronting Scorpio, and besides, his options may well improve once inside the underground. He then turned to us with a startling ultimatum.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, you will all accompany us to the passageway entrance,’ he instructed his stunned audience. ‘Tell me, sergeant, is there a sledgehammer to be found in the rear building?’
‘Got no idea,’ responded Burke begrudgingly.
‘Conveniently forgotten, you mean.’
‘You won’t get away with this!’ snapped Ben Johnson.
‘Your outbursts are starting to wear thin. One more threat from you and I won’t hesitate to use this gun!’ declared Indigo. ‘Don’t take me for a blundering idiot, Mr Johnson. We’ve already cased these premises, in addition to knowing where staff and patrons are congregated.’
With their destiny decided, there was no room for negotiation or retreat, since three guns were now pointed squarely at us. Their leader retrieved a mobile phone and quickly relayed a message, possibly to a further Traffik accomplice stationed outside. It was a well-planned and methodical assault. Any thought of escape or reversing the role was quickly dismissed.
‘You will all now follow me. No bags please and if one of you decides to make a run for it you’ll be shot!’
Indigo led the group from the conference room through to a broad corridor whose passageway connected with a rear exit door. His two lackeys took up the trail, constantly looking back at the hub of the club to ensure no stray eye was watching their departure. All was clear as the party of eleven made their way toward the back building. The sudden awareness of a further Traffik thug standing beside the awaiting entrance sent a shiver up my spine. How many more of these swines could there possibly be?
Indigo then issued a further order.
‘Through the door and stand in a huddled group to wait my next instruction. I already have a further man inside so don’t get any stupid ideas. Remember, one false move will result in the obvious consequences.’
One by one we filed passed the keeper of the door, who vetted each individual entering the darkened and musty interior. Cobwebs were in abundance and the room projected a distinct presence of mildew that had accumulated through lack of ventilation. It was an unpleasant place and the near-black interior reflected an eerie presence. With all the committee members now assembled inside, Indigo
finally entered illuminating his torch and then proceeded to shut the door. He then walked toward us flicking his light, which I interpreted as being a head count.
‘Where are these cellar steps?’
‘To the far end beneath a trapdoor,’ responded Darren.
‘And where’s the light switch, sergeant?’
‘On the far wall.’
The sixty-watt globe instantly threw some much-needed light on this gloomy surround. The Traffik leader then spotted a sledgehammer, chisel and mallet lying beside the adjacent wall and called on one of his lackey to carry the tools down the basement steps. Without delay the trapdoor was raised and flung back exposing a spiral staircase.
A man of short stocky build bearing the name Martin was directed by his superior to proceed ahead of the group. With the aid of a torch and carrying the tools to help break the seal, he was instructed to look for a light switch and briefly relay back a message regarding the basement layout. He would then take up his position and await our arrival. Although the stairwell light source was adequate, the spiral descent appeared quite steep and provided no handrail for reassurance. Ordered to proceed first, Martha and Helen looked particularly vulnerable as they forever descended the circular path. Ashley Collins and Stephen Buchanan were then directed to follow the women and to take up their position at the far end of the cellar.
In descending pairs, Ben Johnson and Richard Smyth were next to depart. Typically and not surprisingly the publican recommenced his protest, infuriated by this journey into the depths of the subterranean passageways.
‘This charade had gone too far!’ he yelled. He roared abuse back at the Traffik supremo as he descended the spiral staircase. Johnson, by nature, was not one to take kindly to these constant demands.
Indigo responded in a foreign tongue to his lackey waiting below. Finally setting foot on the basement floor, Johnson was pistol-whipped across the cheek, rendering the man semiconscious. The controlled assault was intended more as a warning, since a badly injured captive would only become a liability. The attack prompted two distinct cries of fear from each of the women, while Richard Smyth simply glared in disbelief.
I now accompanied Darren down the stairwell, wondering what fate awaited us in the basement and beyond. Indigo and his remaining three lackeys brought up the rear, having switched off the above-ground lighting and returned the trapdoor to its original position. It was obvious this Traffik lot didn’t want to advertise our whereabouts.
On reaching the cellar landing I was surprised at the generous size of the area. In its heyday this basement must have housed an extensive range of wines for the privileged few. The architecture reminded me of something medieval with its archaic ceiling and Gothic style blue-stone patterns. The basement had deteriorated through age and neglect and was badly in need of renovation to correct the apparent crumbling stonework.
With eight committee members now all assembled in the far corner, their leader addressed the sergeant in a calm but direct manner.
‘Okay, copper, where do you believe this entrance is located?’
Realising it was useless to mislead or prolong the search, he decided to come clean with his appraisal.
‘We believe the passageway leads from either the wall to your left or beneath the floor.’
‘Based on what, a hunch or something more tangible?’ Indigo leered.
‘That particular wall has crumbled noticeably near its base. It wouldn’t take too long to create an opening with that sledgehammer. Likewise the floor appears very vulnerable. You can see how uneven the bluestone sits, which gives the impression there maybe little support beneath,’ responded Burke.
‘And your preference would be?’
‘The floor.’
‘Agreed. The women can sit this one out, including the Johnson jerk. I’ll have you five men take turn in smashing the floor, starting with you, sergeant,’ instructed Indigo.
I stood to one side with my fellow committee members, watching Darren Burke swing the hefty and weighted sledgehammer. He grunted and gasped with each motion of the tool. My heart was racing in anticipation of what might follow. I guess I had always had an underlying desire to experience the fabled underground, but certainly not under these circumstances.
~ * ~
U
nbeknown to Traffik and the eight captives, the constabulary was making incredible headway in their search for the elusive Broadbent’s entrance. Earthmoving equipment and cranes had been used relentlessly to clear the debris from where a kitchen and toilet block once stood. It was anticipated this particular location would result in a positive finding. Floodlights had been erected to enable rotating shifts to work around the clock. Additionally, with the media and Scorpio’s prying eyes in mind, Forbes chose to screen the excavators from this inquisitive lot.
Unfortunately the immediate vicinity was heavily laden with building and roofing rubble. The pile of mess would have originally exceeded four metres in height. At around nine-thirty pm this excessive accumulation of debris had finally been reduced to ground level. Forbes called on the crane operator to momentarily stop proceedings while his men inspected the progress and state of the ground.
An area of around five to six metres square was noticeably submerged. Loose building materials still filled the depression and the use of machinery would need to be maintained. Manual labour was not a consideration, given the arduous challenge and general time constraints. He then gave an order for the operator to recommence and remove as much rubble as possible. Forbes and his men retreated to allow the crane a further half-hour to fulfill his request.
Forbes was growing impatient as the time approached ten o’clock. What would the hole reveal on his second such inspection?
Some three or four metres below the surface the operator suddenly struck a solid and unmovable object. At this depth, and with the removal of an excessive amount of loose bluestone, he could only envisage the obstacle to be a rock wall or barrier of some kind. The operator called on Forbes to take a further look. With the floodlight repositioned directly above the cavity, a number of curious eyes peered down into the hole.
The view into the unknown frontier was somewhat obscure. An abundance of bluestone could be seen, but it begged the question as to whether the formation below was loose or of solid structure. It was feasible to assume that a vast amount of rock would have descended from the cellars that once served to store wine and archives. The observation from above was still one of confusion and uncertainty Not yet convinced the elusive entrance had been uncovered, Forbes gave orders for the crane operator to extract as much loose debris as possible. Following fifteen minutes of continuous removal the operator called on the detective, informing him the crane bucket was incapable of extracting any further loads. He was immediately instructed to stop excavating, fall back and disengage the crane.
A further observation reflected a cleaner and more workable base to address. Forbes decided the only way to overcome indecision was to descend into the hole on foot and take a closer look. He called on Doyle and Marsh to accompany him. Three people exploring the depths would be sufficient, given the dangerous side bank of debris that was prone to collapse.
Carefully the three policemen lowered themselves into the cavity, which by now was more reminiscent of a cone-shaped pit. Harnessed with the aid of strong ropes tied to their waists, the three men stepped cautiously down the side bank, being mindful not to disturb any rubble that could loosen and fall to the base. On reaching the bottom with their ropes still firmly attached, the search for the elusive passageway commenced.
With each officer equipped with a torch-bearing helmet, the light was now able to pick up considerably more detail. The three light beams crisscrossed in the night air amidst their search for the inevitable. Blue-stone resting at every conceivable angle was embedded tightly, reflecting a twisted pile and slaphappy formation that would undoubtedly take time to separate. From each corner of rubble the prospect of uncovering something tangible conti
nued to be unproductive. The area simply gave nothing in return other than the constant infuriating pile of bluestone.
So where was this solid structure that the crane operator spoke of? Determined not to be defeated, the three continued in pursuit for some vague sign that was so justly deserved. Pile after pile of bluestone they searched, occasionally removing the odd stone or two which revealed no hidden clue. And then by chance the first notable sign occurred. Doyle, in his effort to relocate a larger than normal size stone, had disturbed something from beneath. The sound of a rock could be heard crashing from deep within. The three men instantaneously heard the impact. Doyle then purposely dislodged a further sizable bluestone and again the distinctive thud sound of rock was recognised. On this occasion gravity had forced three stones to fall. The time lapse would have been in the region of five seconds, implying a sizable opening existed beneath. Whilst he acknowledged the discovery to be of notable significance, Forbes sensibly decided to tread with caution. This immediate vicinity presented a real danger in terms of possible collapse. Wisely they decided to retreat and have the operator concentrate on breaking the seal.
