Scorpio's Lot

by Ray Smithies

  Words of accusation flowed from Indigo’s vindictive tongue. Cursing the eight, he eyed each individual with suspicion and persecution. His witch-hunt would leave no stone unturned. Maintaining his inconspicuous existence upon the chamber rooftop, the traitor listened intently to Indigo’s insinuations against the committee members. Was there a half-truth behind his outburst? Then something twigged in the renegade’s mind. He could recall overhearing a conversation between Sol and Neville Bradbury discussing a certain attribute about the Piedpiper. There was a distinct shortage of candidates in Pedley that would fit this criterion. With this in mind, the traitor cautiously peered down on the eight members below him. Although he had never seen nor spoken to the regional head, his observation, nonetheless, had already narrowed the field dramatically.

  With the cross examination unfolding before him, the Scorpio renegade became distinctly frustrated at Indigo’s inability to resolve the Piedpiper’s identity He knew the matter at hand could effectively be dealt with on the basis of elimination. If the drug lord did indeed reside amongst the eight, then the outcome was elementary.

  So what in the hell was taking him so long? The answer was blatantly obvious and yet this imbecile chose to ignore the obvious. Perhaps ignorance and stupidity had clouded his thinking. The traitor was nearly beside himself with Indigo’s failure to see beyond his nose. Unable to control his emotions any longer, he stood up and declared his intentions to the complete surprise of everybody below.

  ‘You bloody idiots, hasn’t one of you got an ounce of brain!’ bellowed the traitor. Pointing toward the eight committee members, he let out a further scream.

  ‘Their regional head stands before you, Indigo. The Piedpiper can only be one of -’

  But it was too late. The traitor could not complete the sentence for he had been shot between the eyes and had died instantly. The bullet had been fired from across the other side of the gallery, supposedly by the very person that was labelled the Piedpiper some fifteen minutes earlier.

  ~ * ~

  Not long after dawn had broken there was still no word on the missing policemen. Forbes and his men had not yet resurfaced and Burke’s group remained equally at bay. Now holding senior rank in the case, Gallagher had taken the liberty of organising a backup team to commence their recovery search. With fourteen policemen from base, he had also been provided with four SOG troops via city headquarters. Gallagher was disappointed their arrival had not been earlier, but head office maintained an unforeseen problem had delayed proceedings. Additionally, Whittaker had used his influence to secure a modest number from neighbouring townships. The figure had quickly expanded to twenty-three persons at his disposal.

  In waiting for his men to congregate, Gallagher spotted Chris Martino by the coffee machine and decided to get an update on young Murdock’s progress. He knew the local constabulary was keeping tabs on the injured following the Broadbent explosion.

  ‘What’s the word from the hospital on Danny Murdock?’

  ‘Marsh checked yesterday and his condition is serious but stable. Apparently he’s been taken off the critical list, which is good news.’

  ‘That’s a relief. Let’s hope his recovery speeds up,’ acknowledged Gallagher.

  At seven am the sudden arrival of Emily Harrison and Brigit O’Neill caught the detective a little off-guard. He had not anticipated their visit, having just completed his brief with the men. Both women looked terrible and the strain of the situation was showing. Neither had slept and they were desperate to get an update on the matter. Advised that there was no further news and that a rescue team was about to descend the underground, both Emily and Brigit foolishly insisted they be allowed to partake.

  ‘Under no circumstances whatsoever!’ Gallagher declared in a loud, stern voice.

  ‘But my husband’s down there!’ insisted Emily.

  ‘Who happens to be my uncle, and not forgetting Helen as well,’ Brigit added.

  ‘And all the more reason not to venture down there. You two don’t seem to understand the enormity of the situation. With a possible confrontation between rival drug syndicates, it makes for even a less inviting place.’

  With some reluctance Emily and Brigit accepted the detective’s decision, but insisted they be kept informed on any progress.

  ‘Rest assured, you’ll be the first to know,’ Gallagher said.

  Suddenly the unannounced arrival of Piochsa Szabo further fueled the crisis at hand. Brushing aside the lesser likes at the station, she hurried toward Gallagher, demanding an update on the missing constabulary. Understandably her concerns lay with Paul Marsh’s disappearance; she hadn’t heard from him in two days. Desperate for an answer, she ignored the present conversation being conducted with two other women and interrupted their discussion.

  ‘Detective, would you please tell me where Paul Marsh is? I’ve just learnt there are a number of officers beneath Pedley in search of these drug murderers -’

  Gallagher cut her short. ‘Ms Szabo, you simply can’t come barging into the station demanding answers. Our information is classified and I have every intention in keeping it that way. It’s our plan to have Detective Marsh available within twenty-four hours. That’s the best I can offer for the moment.’

  ‘But –‘ Piochsa persisted.

  ‘No buts about it, Ms Szabo. You will need to be both patient and understanding in your wait, as will Mrs Harrison and Ms O’Neill. Now if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I have some urgent matters to attend to.’

  With the reluctant departure of the three women, Gallagher focused back on the matter in hand. He gathered his troops to inform them that entry would be by way of Broadbent’s site and there was a fair chance the Scorpio headquarters would be located close by. An array of arsenal including tear gas and heat detection equipment had been brought in from headquarters overnight. The additional inclusion of night vision goggles and two-way communications would assist with their assault.

  Gallagher was particularly grateful for the support. The case had priority status and these useful additions would give his men a distinct edge. He feared the worst, thinking either Scorpio or Traffik had gained the ascendancy from within and his colleagues were now subjected to a hostage situation. The task ahead would test every shred of nerve and endurance. He also recognised that twenty-three persons entering the subterranean network would be a force to contend with. The time had arrived to commence their short drive to Covert Road.

  ~ * ~

  T

  he sudden execution of the man standing on the chamber roof brought the conflict to a head. The two Scorpio members, who had retreated earlier to secure some unknown device, had suddenly advertised their return. They were determined to eliminate Traffik’s stronghold and to free their hapless accomplices. In the attempt to protect himself from the gunfire above, Indigo grabbed hold of Martha Kellett to act as a human shield. His henchmen immediately took the offensive to deal with the threat.

  Ivan, forever cool in a crisis, continued to maintain Traffik’s dominance over the police and committee members. He threatened to shoot at will if anyone so much as retreated from the danger. Both Dave and Martin unleashed a barrage of gunfire in the direction of their adversary.

  Traffik’s one saving grace was the angle of crossfire. The exchange of gunshots to this point had been hopelessly off target. The two thugs above were simply too far back from the gallery’s opening to gain any worthwhile accuracy. To enable an effective challenge, Scorpio’s assault would need to be mounted from the fringe of the gallery. Traffik knew this to be an advantage, for the enemy would need to expose their whereabouts to enable a direct hit. The downside was in not knowing from which chamber roof they would strike. Gunfire momentarily ceased, implying both syndicates were reassessing their strategy. The situation was as tense as it was intriguing.

  Replicating their leader’s quick thinking, Dave and Martin seized Buchanan and Smyth respectively and held each man for protection. They constantly circled the room, not kno
wing when and from where their foe might strike.

  A single shot from above suddenly broke the silence. The man retreated too quickly to take any worthwhile aim. Unfortunately the deadly missile had found an unlikely target. The bullet had grazed Richard Smyth’s right shoulder, causing the man to yell out in pain. Luckily it was only a superficial wound that required minimal attention.

  The constabulary stood by, unable to intervene and put a stop to this madness. Forbes had had enough and starting screaming for both parties to come to their senses before more blood was spilt. His words went unheeded. The presence of some pompous cop who had forfeited all authority made no difference to the current crisis.

  The game of cat and mouse continued, but as to who was gaining the ascendancy was anybody’s guess. Periodical gunfire had become as predictable as it was inaccurate. And then the inevitable happened. Martin scored a direct hit. With three consecutive bullets he fatally shot one of the Scorpio thugs through the heart, lung and stomach. The force of the impact caused the man to fall from the chamber roof and land on the gallery floor. He was killed instantly. The sudden bloodied body lying on the bluestone brought screams from Martha and Helen.

  Indigo immediately knew he had gained the upper hand. Sensing only one other assailant posed a threat, he was confident it was only a matter of time before the second was eliminated. Cautiously the Traffik thugs kept vigilance on anything that remotely moved. This was not the time for complacency. Indigo knew his foe would strike again and with that in mind his nemesis could never be underestimated.

  As expected, a further shot came from above. The bullet was woefully off target, but as the man scurried back Dave retaliated, hitting him in the right leg. In the context of things this represented a huge advantage, given it would considerably slow the blighter’s escape. A gun could be heard landing on the stone surface. It was Indigo’s cue to hunt the felon down. He roared his approval and then turned to Dave and Martin.

  ‘Hunt down that piece of Scorpion shit and bring him back alive! He may be the Piedpiper after all,’ he ordered.

  Indigo momentarily looked down at the body that had fallen, declaring the man too young and an unlikely candidate to have been their leader. With the departure of Dave and Martin, the Traffik leader stared at his audience. He was now in a quandary as to what to believe. Not having the slightest interest in the dead body lying above, his only passing thought was the traitor had served his purpose. More importantly, he now had the job of determining where the truth lay. Was the Piedpiper the person on the loose who his accomplices had identified earlier, or did their leader stand before him amongst these eight people?

  Indigo took a moment to contemplate the scenarios. He had the tools and experience to extract the truth and his persuasive methods had never failed him in the past. Three possibilities were at hand to assist in finding the elusive answer. The two Scorpio accomplices would plead for mercy if they didn’t cooperate, and as for these committee members, it only required the appropriate deduction process to expose the culprit. A third probability rested with his men and their ability to return with the mystery person.

  Indigo turned and glared at the eight people standing before him. Again, he would unleash his threatening tactics. Without one spoken word he stepped forward and stood in front of each person for around one minute, sizing up their body language and constantly casting his eyes from head to foot, forever repeating the ritual. The whole performance was extremely intimidating. Not one of the eight dared murmur a sound. Indigo was in complete control.

  Throughout his individual diagnosis, I decided to commence with my own evaluation of the seven people to my immediate side. It seemed ludicrous that the Piedpiper was potentially one of us, or at least this is what the man from above had implied and then was shot for his troubles. Similarly, and by their own admission, the Scorpio pair indicated their missing accomplice was indeed the regional head and therefore he too could not be overlooked as a likely candidate. I refocused on my fellow committee members, astonished that I was even contemplating such an idea. Deciding to evaluate them in the order they stood beside the wall, I started with the person to my far left.

  Ashley Collins was possibly on the high side of his mid-thirties. He was ambitious, inquisitive by nature and had a reasonable grasp on the state of our current dilemma. The Advertiser appointed him chief reporter to the case and he had a reputation in pestering everybody to get his story. It defied logic that someone searching for a story would himself be directly responsible for issuing such despicable acts and that of trafficking drugs. This didn’t make any sense unless it was all a clever front.

  Ben Johnson was in his late forties and the most disliked person of the group. Arrogant, clever, ambitious and someone who would go to exceptional lengths to get his own way. If there was to be a suspicion, then it would lie with his hotel security thugs, but there had never been a connection to any drug organisation. Despite all his negatives I couldn’t see the man involved at this level of corruption, given his community spirit and very public life.

  Darren Burke was around thirty-eight. He was likeable, disciplined, well organised and a fellow Rotarian. As part of the local police force, he’d already been subjected to Scorpio’s punishment and humiliation, particularly with regard to the Peterswood and Molly Bloom incidents. Given his line of duty and uncompromising determination to capture the criminals, a case against Darren would indeed be a shallow attempt. I considered the sergeant to be the most unlikely candidate within the group.

  Helen O’Neill was approaching fifty, an intelligent woman who was both pleasant and considerate. Poor Helen had worn the brunt of Scorpio’s aggression with the kidnapping of her stepdaughter. Her protection over Brigit during the days of seclusion was commendable and Helen also had the misfortune of experiencing a house break-in. I could personally vouch for her unshakable desire in searching for Brigit’s return. Helen could not possibly be considered capable of such a role.

  Richard Smyth was a quiet, methodical and alert sort of person and was nearing retirement at around sixty-three. Although the least known of the group, I could not allow this to persuade my mind. Richard headed the engineering department at the local council and in the short time I had known him, I found the man of decent and honest character. It seemed inconceivable that he could stoop to such low and callous acts.

  Martha Kellett, a woman in her early sixties, was supportive, intelligent and thoughtful by nature. Martha was a retired teacher who devoted considerable time to her local charity work and voluntary educational support. She had been subjected to a Scorpio bashing on the night of her untimely visit to the caravan park. Comparable with Darren Burke, it defied logic these thugs would turn against their own kind. She was also very supportive of Emily during my chase in the countryside and it would therefore take a strong argument to convince me otherwise.

  Stephen Buchanan was a man in his late forties. He was clever, shrewd and supportive when it suited him. He was an ex-boxer and generally had a good name in town. Stephen unselfishly contributed funds and gave his time to a number of sporting committees. I considered the man more of an acquaintance than a friend, but to give credit where it was due, Stephen was very supportive when financial assistance was required to purchase the caravan park. He was primarily a businessman, but had a big heart when it came to the local community. Stephen’s makeup did not match that of a drug leader.

  And finally myself. I could only contemplate that my fellow committee members were analysing yours truly as well.

  So in the end there was nothing to suggest otherwise. Not one fellow committee member came remotely close to cast suspicion. I could only conclude the man from above had got it all wrong.

  My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Indigo finally breaking his silence. He walked across to the Scorpio pair still seated in the middle of the gallery. His remaining accomplice, Ivan, continued to stand nearby with gun pointed at anything that remotely moved. Indigo commenced his theatrical perfor
mance that was soon to have some diabolical repercussions.

  ‘Now I expect some cooperation from you two. Tell me, does your leader stand before you?’

  ‘No. You’ve already sent two of your men into the passageways to hunt him down,’ responded the shorter man who called himself John.

  ‘Then have you seen or had any encounters with these eight before?’ persisted Indigo.

  ‘Yeah, with four of them,’ acknowledged Luke.

  ‘Oh, and who might they be?’

  The taller Luke singled out Darren Burke, Martha Kellett, Helen O’Neill and myself. The distress levels were now at fever pitch and we all wondered where this was leading. The two women shook uncontrollably as the four of us were ordered to step forward.