by Ray Smithies
‘Mum’s the word,’ responded Gallagher with a wry grin.
Ignoring his detective’s remark, Forbes then delivered a rather bold statement.
‘I’m about to take the biggest gamble of my professional career. The Piedpiper is still at large and in reality he could make a run for it. The risk is apparent, but I’m prepared to take the chance to catch this bastard once and for all.’
Prior to bringing the meeting to an end, Forbes challenged his men to a wager. To his surprise all four detectives took up the bet regarding the identity of the Piedpiper.
~ * ~
B
y 4.55 pm the committee members, including Burke, had all congregated in the waiting room adjacent to Alan Forbes’ office. With the detective’s door slightly ajar, the seven people couldn’t help but overhear a disagreement regarding an incriminating document. The contentious issue was intense. Forbes could be heard yelling at his subordinates for being so careless. I listened intently about the name of the Piedpiper having been inscribed on something, supposedly held by the Scorpio traitor when he screamed out his accusations. I was not aware the man had held anything, but then again he was difficult to see from where we all stood.
So why this contentious issue, when the constabulary had already caught their man? I couldn’t understand, unless it was Forbes’ pedantic way in tiding up loose ends. Perhaps the name Lou Hanna didn’t appear on this incriminating paper after all and Forbes was simply seeking verification? Whichever, the unfolding saga was intriguing to say the least.
The squabbling continued, with Forbes becoming adamant about retrieving the note, a seemingly straightforward task which should have been collected at their time of ascent. Carelessness did not have a place under his command, so he was to send two men in the morning to find the elusive paper. Following their dressing-down, the four city detectives were then dismissed. As they departed the office I could see the look of exasperation etched on their faces. Marsh, in particular, was seething underneath and looked ready to explode.
Not overly concerned about the consequences of their lecture, it suddenly hit me I had lost something from my jacket pocket on the night we entered the passageways. I could recall Martha and Helen having fallen in one of the corridors, causing me to dislodge what was to eventually become my credit card. It had taken this moment to realise what the lost item was and to my dismay it incriminated me by having my name inscribed on it. Sure my card was not what Forbes had in mind, for this didn’t bear any connection to the renegade’s elusive paper. But I was worried. If by some misfortune the police were to find the damn thing, then explanations would be in order. Suspicions would undoubtedly emerge, despite having the infamous Lou Hanna behind lock and key. I was now in an anxious state, but it was important not to show my concerns, particularly with Forbes on the prowl.
But it’s only a credit card, I kept saying to myself. Surely that couldn’t be incriminating. My heart was pumping faster and I felt uncomfortable. Should I declare my lost card or not? In the end I thought no, deciding instead to retrieve the bloody thing later.
Forbes finally stepped forth, thanking everyone for their attendance and giving a casual apology for the inconvenience of the slight delay. Single file we entered his office to sign the statements he had prepared on his desk.
~ * ~
Following proceedings and with the departure of the last committee member, Forbes thought about their little sham. Their performance seemed convincing enough, particularly with some heated debate thrown in. Yes, he felt reasonably satisfied with their fabricated attempt. The trap would now lay in wait in anticipation of the guilty party re-entering the subterranean to claim the incriminating document. During the signing of statements, Forbes had excused himself to instruct Marsh and the SOG unit to proceed to the underground and to place the hoax paper on the balcony where the slain traitor had stood. There they would wait until the backup team arrived shortly afterwards.
To avoid suspicion, and with Burke in mind, Forbes decided he would only be accompanied by his three remaining detectives Gallagher, Parnell and Doyle. He had to play his cards right, for they would undoubtedly be conspicuous by their absence if called on. It was important to maintain a presence at the station in case Burke detected something irregular. He would invent a story whereby the four detectives were being taken out to dinner as a gesture of appreciation.
Following some last minute clerical chores, the time had arrived for Forbes and his three subordinates to descend below Pedley. He explained to the night duty staff their reason for an earlier than normal departure and that they would be returning after dinner.
The short drive to Covert Road was approaching near darkness, the winter evenings still overstepping their sable influence on the late afternoons. Predictably the ruins of the Broadbent site now stood like a gloomy and silent backwash. Neither spotlights nor workman were in attendance on this particular evening. The remaining rear structures were to be abolished following the constabulary’s authorization.
The four men were lowered on to the first landing. They were now on course to finally capture the elusive Piedpiper once and for all. There wouldn’t be a repeat of descending to some ungodly depth this time. Level three, site of Scorpio’s southern headquarters, was conveniently placed within a ten-minute walk below the surface. On this occasion the route appeared straightforward, made easier by the recollection of certain landmarks and general sense of direction. Their prompt descent had brought them to the third landing in under the anticipated time. Forbes was relieved to have arrived at the appropriate floor and confident his men would be in position prior to the Piedpiper’s pending arrival. On reaching the gallery, all four troopers and Paul Marsh suddenly appeared from the obscurity of a darken backdrop.
Forbes broke the silence.
‘Good, we’ve all arrived ahead of the blighter. Now I want the entire area surrounded to prevent any possible escape. My detectives and I will take up our posts in the immediate vicinity. I want you troopers positioned one corridor back and on either side of the traitor’s rooftop. Once everybody is poised and ready, all lights are then to be turned off. The Piedpiper will provide adequate light from his own torch. The arrest applies the moment the culprit picks up the piece of paper, and I repeat, only at that time. Are there any questions before we take up our positions?’
Forbes waited, but with no further input he could only surmise his instructions were fully understood. He decided on one last comment.
‘I should add there are no guarantees this plan is destined for success, but what I will say is that I’m still fairly confident of an arrest tonight,’ stated Forbes in his typical contradictory style. ‘The wait maybe long, so be patient.’
~ * ~
I looked at my watch: 5.40. Dusk was all but exhausted and within a few minutes nightfall would prevail. At six o’clock I would make my move, deciding to enter by way of the RSL site. Access via Broadbent’s was an unnecessary risk, given its public exposure and the occasional bystander still looking on the devastated landmark. I had explained my predicament to Emily, receiving an unsympathetic response as a result of not informing the authorities of my dilemma. Stubborn to the bone, I decided to press ahead and retrieve the credit card my own way. Approaching six I reversed the car out of the driveway and headed in the direction of the RSL.
On reaching the utility room behind the club, I was relieved to see the door hadn’t been padlocked. Sliding the latch across I proceeded through the entrance to find the depository in a similar state to my previous visit. Tools still littered the floor and the multitude of cobwebs and lingering musty odour was very apparent. I raised the trapdoor and commenced my spiral staircase descent. The hole in the ground had conveniently remained uncovered and I was beginning to think everything was falling nicely into place.
Not far now. A quick, two-hundred-metre walk to beneath Broadbent, followed by a descent of two levels to the Scorpio operations site. But was I right? Had the credit card been droppe
d in one of the passageways leading into the gallery? Perhaps it was on a different floor after all? Think, I kept saying to myself. Where did Martha and Helen have their fall? I was now confused for all the corridors appeared alike. Initially I decided to approach the syndicate’s headquarters, and if unsuccessful, I would then proceed to look around the immediate lower level. I was reasonably confident the card had been dropped on one of these landings.
Three further intersecting arterials had elapsed, when suddenly a faint glow could be seen mounted on a distant bluestone wall. I knew the gallery lay ahead for the illumination looked distinctly familiar to that of yesterday. Having travelled the near length of the passageway, it suddenly occurred to me it was pointless entering the balconies. My card had not been dropped this close to yesterday’s congregation. So where in the hell did I misplace it?
I decided to check the side corridors, for in my confusion it was possible our gallery entry may have been via a different route. After all, these pathways did look remarkably similar. Up and down the passageways I shone my torch, but no plastic card was forthcoming. The gallery entrance was now distinctly close and I knew this immediate vicinity was fast becoming a waste of time.
I was about to abandon the area and recommence my search on level four when suddenly a voice shouted, ‘Stand where you are with your hands above your head!’
I must have jumped nearly six feet in sheer fright. I heard the sound of approaching footsteps. I could detect four or five people, maybe more. Crisscross beams of light began to flood the immediate area and I wondered what the bloody hell was going on. I prayed that no further Scorpio thugs were on the prowl. Four torches were pointed directly toward me. It was impossible to identify the intruders, for all I could see were dazzling lights playing havoc with my pupils trying to adjust to the sudden brightness. A lone voice stepped forward.
‘Well, well, well... if it isn’t our dubious caravan proprietor!’
The portly figure of Alan Forbes began to materialise from the obscure backdrop. He wore a look resembling a general triumphant at war. His steely-eyed gaze seemed to cut right through me. Despite his intimidating appearance I was nonetheless relieved to see the man.
‘Thank goodness it’s you. I was beginning to think there were more Scorpio cutthroats around.’
There was no response. Instead his detectives stepped forth and immediately placed me in handcuffs. I glared at this outrageous action, my protest being drowned out by Forbes’ forceful and loud remark.
‘Don’t give me that bullshit, Mr Harrison, or should I be addressing you as the Piedpiper?’
‘The Piedpiper? You must be joking! You’ve already got the bastard behind bars. What the hell are you doing? Have you gone stark raving mad?’ I was shocked by Forbes’ forceful behaviour and damning accusation.
‘On the contrary, the Piedpiper remains a free man. Explain your presence here tonight,’ demanded Forbes.
‘I’ve been looking for a credit card which I lost on my way to the gallery yesterday.’
‘And you expect me to believe this crap?’
‘Hang on a moment. In your office this afternoon I overheard you say the traitor was holding something that contained the name of the Piedpiper. I’m trying to find the damn card because my name’s on it, which understandably is incriminating. It fell from my jacket pocket when I stumbled across Helen O’Neill in one of the passageways.’ I was determined to justify my presence.
‘So you conveniently lost it in the vicinity of the gallery,’ taunted Forbes.
‘Excuse me. Leading to the gallery, detective, not within its vicinity. I was retracing my steps when you found me.’
‘And you can’t remember which corridor?’ he persisted.
‘No. It becomes confusing when the passageways all look the same. I think it’s on this level or perhaps the lower one.’
‘Why didn’t you declare this lost card in my office earlier?’
‘Because you would’ve jumped to conclusions and declared me guilty. You’ve always held a grudge against me since the Peterswood incident. I had no choice but to retrace my steps and retrieve the card.’
‘Describe the credit card.’
‘Imperial Bank with a Visa facility. Has a blue background with an expiry of February next year,’ I answered without hesitation.
Forbes paused and I realised he was considering my story. He then grabbed me by the jacket sleeve and shoved me to one side, away from the remaining constabulary. His expression now reflected the look of hatred. Was this little demonstration to become our private and ultimate confrontation? How he must have loathed my very existence.
I continued to justify my underground return, pointing out that it was necessary to clear my name of any wrongdoing. Forbes scoffed, stating that my actions were a mixture of stupidity, ignorance, doubt and carelessness. A trading of words followed. Marsh tried to intervene but was promptly ordered back. Eventually, after a great deal of convincing, Forbes conceded that there was a degree of credibility in my story. He acknowledged that I had not gone to the balcony in search of the paper and was in fact retreating at the time of capture. My actions were in the reverse.
Forbes’ premature bitterness and rage finally succumbed to composure and levelheaded reasoning and he seems satisfied that I held no threat. He called out for the benefit of his task force to hear, ‘I’m a reasonable man, Harrison, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, but only for the moment. You’ll remain handcuffed and if a second person doesn’t front tonight and no credit card can be found, I will formally charge you with murder,’ declared Alan Forbes.
‘What second person?’ I asked.
‘You can’t be that naive. The arrival of the Piedpiper, that’s who. Should he grace us with his presence, do you have any idea the risk you’ve taken in coming here tonight?’
‘But I thought he was safely behinds bars.’
‘You thought wrong.’
Forbes then quickly retreated and issued orders to some further reinforcements standing in the background. Their light-bearing helmets picked up the police chief pointing towards a couple of gallery outlets. He appeared slightly agitated with the instruction. On his return I was none the wiser of Forbes’ intent.
‘Okay, we must act now with no further delay. Everyone back to their positions and turn your lights off. Mr Harrison, you will be seated beside me in absolute silence. My one concern is I hope this little performance hasn’t scared off our pending visitor.’ Forbes gave me the evil eye.
The faint illumination from camphene burners mounted on the gallery walls was our saving grace; otherwise the place would have been transformed into an oppressive and eerie darkness.
~ * ~
An hour had elapsed with no sign of this elusive second person. Was the Piedpiper to materialise or had this been a waste of time? It was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain patience and Forbes, with his constant body readjustments, would be the first to call it quits. One hour became two, seemingly like an eternity in this appalling environment. At times it was difficult to maintain a total silence.
With the wait seemingly destined for failure, the first detection of a presence suddenly became apparent. It was a fleeting glance of a light source bouncing off the corridor walls from the far side. Presumably a torch, the advancing beam was then extinguished. Ears were strained to pick up the slightest sound, but silence reigned and no approaching steps could be heard. Around a minute later the light reappeared and was now considerably closer to the gallery
Forbes was satisfied with the placement of his men, for the troopers were stationed either side of the relevant passageway. The beam of rays grew distinctly brighter as they danced their path on each advancing wall. The infiltrator was now decisively close.
The bearer of the torch had now arrived at the gallery entrance. Again the light source was turned off. The awaiting entourage could only surmise this individual was playing a very cautious arrival. In all high probability of being the Piedp
iper, it then dawned on Forbes this person was in familiar territory. He was in his own backyard so to speak and therefore would be expected to have a bag of tricks up his sleeve. This was no Lou Hanna who surrendered relatively easy to Traffik, but rather, the supreme regional head who must demand respect and considerably more caution. Again silence reigned and the tension was mounting.
What in the hell was this person playing at with the torch being regularly switched off? And would the attempt be made to retrieve the note or did the infiltrator detect a danger? The constabulary continued to focus on the passageway entrance. The subdued light made it difficult to see across the vast expanse of the gallery. No vague outline or pending sound could be detected. Where’s the blighter gone? thought Forbes. Their positions had to be held; otherwise any movement to investigate would turn the man away. The troopers positioned some ten metres to the rear could not pick up the slightest movement, their heat detection equipment proving to be ineffective. The reflective screen of green images could only produce stone structures in return, for the infiltrator had the luxury of camouflage in abundance.
