by Ray Smithies
Within five minutes his car tore down Finch Street and turned right into Market en route to the O’Neill residence. Brigit was waiting on the front verandah as Hamish turned sharply into the driveway. The mood was tense and quiet as they proceeded toward the RSL Club and on arrival Hamish immediately drove around to the rear car park. Given the information Emily had been told over the telephone, the sight of so many vehicles hadn’t come as a surprise. After all, someone called Tracy did mention a number of people were still patronising the premises at this late hour.
The two cars belonging to Tom and Helen were instantly recognised amongst the row of late night-revellers. Emily and Brigit immediately walked across to conduct their respective checks and were now both adamant that something was drastically amiss. With sufficient lighting to view through the windows, the interiors of both vehicles suggested nothing out of ordinary. There was a high probability the cars had not been entered during the entire evening. Frustrated and puzzled, the two women returned to Hamish who was waiting in the middle of the car park.
In her approach to Hamish’s side, Brigit caught the reflection of something lying on the ground. The car park lighting accentuated the conspicuous item, which would’ve otherwise gone undetected. She lent down to pick up the metal looking object and on closer examination was aghast as to its origins.
‘What’s that thingamajig you’ve found?’ Hamish asked.
‘I can’t believe it! It... it belongs to Helen. I’d recognise this bracelet amongst a hundred others. What on earth is going on here?’
‘Are you sure, Brigit?’ Emily wondered if the occasion may have distorted her judgment.
‘I’m positive it’s hers. She wore it a lot, but I don’t get it because Helen wasn’t the type to lose her jewellery.’
‘You may’ve underestimated Helen,’ declared Hamish to Brigit’s astonishment.
‘What do you mean by that remark?’
‘I can think of two possibilities. Either she lost it unintentionally or purposely left it there to be found,’ he suggested.
‘Left it there on purpose. For goodness sake, Hamish, get a grip on yourself.’
‘Think about it. A number of people have suddenly disappeared. Presumably all their cars remain in this car park, so what might that imply?’
‘What!’ Brigit snapped.
‘They were possibly abducted and Helen has purposely provided something tangible to go on,’ called Hamish.
‘Shit, maybe you’re right.’ Brigit was now beginning to understand the bigger picture.
‘I believe the time has come to contact the police. We can’t delay this matter any longer,’ insisted Hamish.
‘But shouldn’t we check with the club first? They may have an update.’ Emily thought his decision to visit the police may be in haste.
The trio met up with the person called Tracy, a tall blonde whose eyes were a rare, green-blue combination enhanced with heavily applied mascara. She projected a forceful and stern personality, but was at least sympathetic with the dilemma facing her three interrogators. The situation was explained at some length, with emphasis on the committee members being both prominent and responsible individuals who simply couldn’t vanish without a trace, unless foul play was at hand. Tracy listened intently to the problem and then suggested she retrieve a list of the committee members that could be passed onto the police. She momentarily disappeared to fetch the notation.
‘Here we are. I thought it had been left in my office,’ she declared, passing it across to Emily who happened to be standing the closest.
Emily Harrison placed the list on the reception desk for all to see. Accepting it was inevitable to see Tom’s name, she nonetheless let out a short cry with the realisation this was documented proof of his attendance.
‘That’s quite a representation from the local constituency,’ claimed Tracy, whose absurd comment fell on deaf ears. ‘I mean, how all these people can suddenly disappear off the face of the planet…’
‘I think we get the general picture.’ Hamish didn’t appreciate the remark.
‘What time do you close these premises tonight?’ Emily queried.
‘One o’clock, a little under an hour from now.’
‘Thank you, we may return with the police,’ she added and then turned to depart.
After a short trip to the police station they found young Chris Martino on late-night duty. At ten minutes past midnight he was very surprised to see this trio walk through the lobby doors.
‘Mrs Harrison, Brigit and Hamish... What on earth brings you here at this time of night?’
‘There’s a problem you should be aware of.’ Hamish proceeded to inform Martino about the crisis.
The constable’s first reaction was to think of his colleague Darren Burke. ‘I’m aware the sergeant attends his community meetings, but they’re held when he’s off-duty. He rarely phones in so we’re obviously none the wiser about tonight’s event. When did you say the group went missing?’
‘According to the RSL, a staff member checked the conference room around ten-fifteen and found everyone gone,’ replied Emily.
‘And their personal effects and cars were left behind.’
‘Yes!’ said Brigit impatiently.
‘It’s hardly the grounds to imply they were abducted, but we’ll see what can be done. Generally the force acts on these cases following a lapse of two or three days, but I’ll make an exception here,’ Martino said.
Martino was simply covering himself should the inevitable happen. They could only surmise the constable had made his decision based on Burke’s involvement. Martino decided to try Burke’s mobile on the off chance he might answer. No response. A second attempt still yielded no reply other than his standard recorded message. Similarly, Forbes and Marsh’s phones could only provide further recordings. He decided to approach Carpenter, who was office-bound at the rear of the building. The two often shared the late-night shift and it was generally left to their discretion when to shut up shop and close the station. He informed his sergeant about the incident and then returned to reception.
‘There are only two of us on duty tonight because most of the men are at the Broadbent site searching for that underground entrance. I’ve spoken to my sergeant and we’ve agreed to call it a night and lock up the station. We’ll accompany you to the RSL and try to get to the bottom of this matter.’
~ * ~
Forbes decided on four persons to enter the underground network. His final choice would be Marsh, Doyle, Parnell and himself. For security and emergency purposes a sizeable backup team was at his disposal should the situation arise. Forbes’ logic was to initially assess the subterranean and then mount a suitable assault with a near-full team in mind. He was adamant this procedure would bring about the destruction of Scorpio. No point entering with an army until he was fully aware of the opponent they were dealing with. Besides, a task force in disarray may very well create evacuation.
Each of his men carried a rope and two-way communication. A spotlight was mounted to each crash helmet and a water container strapped to each man’s waist was considered mandatory to prevent dehydration. With each officer now equipped and ready for descent, the men were finally lowered to the awaiting passageway. Four ropes were then raised to the surface leaving Forbes and his entourage standing on a bricked staircase with the lure of the subterranean network all before them.
The immediate path led to a generous-sized landing some ten metres from the surface. Fortunately the stairwell was still accessible, but an enormous amount of damage was evident as a result of the Broadbent blast. To one side of the steps the bluestone had ripped through a number of levels, devouring everything in its path. The sheer force to move this amount of rock was almost beyond belief. Forbes was left to wonder why they had used so much explosive.
On their short arrival to the platform below, the small contingent momentarily paused to assess their immediate surrounds. The landing was exceptional large, possibly seven to eight s
quare metres across. A further set of descending steps on one side were equally as wide. The architecture and workmanship on show was impeccable. Curved ceilings gave way to perpendicular walls, their vertical orthogonal design so perfectly constructed that any plumb line measurement would be certified without challenge.
Circular stone support columns to both sides of the descending staircase protruded every twenty steps or so. On one such column, numerous carvings of delicate goddess figures were clothed in beautiful apparel. To another, Aborigines in tribal attire brandishing hunting or fighting weaponry offered a contrasting concept. There appeared to be a different theme for each subsequent column. The entire immediate area projected a skill level of extraordinary accomplishment. Forbes puzzled over the craftsmanship which lay before him, for he understood it to be convict labour accredited for construction, under guidance from the authorities at the time. He could only conclude that the slave labour had incorporated some stonemasons, or alternatively, engineers had been hired to address the more challenging aspects of the project.
The four men recommenced their descent. The stairwell maintained its generous width as it plummeted, straightened and occasionally spiraled further into the depths of the network. At around sixty or seventy metres below the surface, a further landing could be seen in the distance. The infrastructure was dramatically changing, to the point where the whole subterranean underworld was taking on a distinct transformation. Directly ahead lay a spectacle of unimaginable proportions. A gigantic aperture was unfolding as they approached the next landing. From the officer’s distance, the view below was indeed panoramic and perhaps a trifle intimidating in scale.
On their arrival at the plateau, the platform gave the impression it had once served as a balcony. The view reflected from the four spotlights was awesome. Reminiscent of a canyon, an enormous opening of around eighty metres lay before them from the edge of the landing. To the far side a solid rock face descended beyond what their torches could pick up. The sheer depth of this cavity would be anyone’s guess.
The rock face had been chiseled or hewn in many places with near perfect precision. It was as straight as any engineer could possibly hope to achieve. Forbes ventured closer to the edge, being careful not to depend on the fragile-looking handrail. He peered down into the darkness of the opening. From the other side of the gaping crater his spotlight could pick up a series of descending steps. With each prominent path a number of landings were apparent, as if representing different levels on a highrise building. He could only surmise the entire underground network was based around this phenomenon that Mother Nature had created.
It defied logic that something of this magnitude could have been kept isolated and shrouded in secrecy for more than two hundred years. He could recall Arthur Simpson making reference to a typhoid plague and that the local fraternity chose to seal the three entrances in fear of the epidemic resurfacing. All the above ground evidence was subsequently removed and it became taboo for any person to speak of the subterranean passageways. Throughout the decades and centuries that followed the underground network become folklore, to the point where any receptive or gullible individual was scoffed at if believing such a place existed. Forbes could only surmise that for this reason alone the place remained concealed.
In still viewing the distant side of the crater, the presence of faint glowing lights in no particular sequence or pattern could be seen at varying heights. Forbes wondered what purpose they served, for these illuminations all appeared to be recessed against the rock face. Certainly they weren’t intended to light a passageway, so why were they inserted alongside this huge opening? Intrigued by their presence, it gave the impression they weren’t alone in this vast subterranean world. He could envisage the network of descending staircases and that of the mysterious glowing lights were a mirror image on both sides of the cavity.
The rock face viewed from the landing descended vertically and the hole was almost circular, giving the impression it was perhaps an old volcano site. The air was distinctly stale and musty and the echoing sound of water droplets could be heard in numerous directions. Dampness and mildew was in abundance, possibly contributing to the overall malodorous smell. Despite the magnetism of this remarkable spectacle, it was time to push on with their intended pursuit. With one last look Forbes stopped for a brief moment, thinking that Scorpio’s southern operation may very well be located in the depths of this network.
With their departure the four men proceeded along the main arterial, forever descending further into this intriguing place. Now approaching one hundred metres below surface, a number of side, intersecting passageways and chambers began to materialise, all still constructed in the theme of bluestone, and to a lesser degree, granite and sedimentary rock. The air had become heavy and oppressive and the men felt as if the weight of the subterranean was now pressing down on them.
In a somewhat bizarre occurrence, the strange mixture of stale air, incense and spice suddenly filled the immediate vicinity. Recessed in one of the side chambers, a terracotta statue of some notable importance came into view. Its relevance begged the question as to why its existence? The image of the sculpture appeared idol-like, sitting cross-legged with a lily and a lotus flower in each hand. The face was distinctly oriental, but the robes appeared Middle Eastern. Forbes could only judge the statue to resemble Buddha in some way. It looked distinctly out of place from any previous figure they had encountered. Perhaps there had been some oriental influence back in those days.
To either side of the lotus positioned sculpture, two further idols were erected. These smaller images were in stark contrast to their larger and more distinctive counterpart. One statue depicted beauty and serenity, while the other was grotesque in its distorted image of absurd and hideous shapes. It was probably symbolic in representing good from evil, thought the detective. With the presence of this fragrance still lingering in the air, he couldn’t help but think that someone had been here quite recently.
Progressing to the next chamber the display was equally intriguing, for in this particular recess a multitude of relics were to be observed. Stone tablets rested upright against the wall, their inscriptions and pictorials resembled the writings of Christian belief. The mummified remains of some individual lay to one corner, covered in a clay-like secretion and wrapped in the scarce remains of what appeared to be either bark or foliation. Glazed vessels and enameled urns, including that of copper cups and various utensils, all of which appeared rather crude in design and quality, were scattered around the remains.
Two large, impressive statues adorned the centre of this chamber. One male and the other female, the pair were depicted nude in what appeared to be either brass or copper. Their heads and shoulders were excessively large as they stood upright slightly leaning toward each other. Their large black eyes were closely construed and deeply recessed. The jaws were exceptionally narrow and their lips were dark, giving the impression of a degree of malice. Their noses were long and thin and the forehead protruded to enhance a frown-like appearance. Despite these peculiarities their faces still reflected an intellectual and mysterious beauty.
Forbes was beginning to grow impatient. Whilst these ongoing distractions may’ve provided some form of entertainment, their quest to uncover enemy headquarters was proving futile. Certainly the vastness of the subterranean passageways didn’t help, and as to Scorpio’s possible location, well, that was anybody’s guess. They had reached what seem to be the bowels of the earth with no vague supposition that a drug operation presided within the confines. Neither human nor mechanical noises had been detected during their descent. No unusual or suspicious sound had prompted a closer look. No inkling to arouse the curious mind existed. So where could they be?
‘This is bloody ridiculous. We’ve descended in excess of three hundred metres and not a sniff,’ Forbes complained.
‘To my way of thinking we’re wasting our time this far down,’ claimed Marsh.
‘What do you mean?’
‘We’re in search of an organisation that has accumulated and stored a vast amount of drugs. Logic tells me the operation would be conducted closer to the surface for logistical reasons alone. I mean, what on earth would possess them to carry out their procedures all the way down here?’
‘I agree, it doesn’t make sense,’ said Forbes.
‘Then where do you propose we go from here, sir?’ asked Doyle.
‘That’s blatantly obvious, detective. Up, of course, but it begs the question as to how far,’ replied Forbes with a hint of ridicule.
‘But their operation could be at any level,’ declared Parnell.
‘I can’t deny that, but our chances improve the closer we return to the surface. In the meantime there’s no choice but to examine each level we ascend,’ insisted Forbes.
