Scorpio's Lot (109 page)

Read Scorpio's Lot Online

Authors: Ray Smithies

Tags: #Fiction, #Thrillers, #Drug Traffic, #made by MadMaxAU

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 continued 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.

 

The crane operator prodded away
at the very spot on which the three men had previously stood. The task was
proving difficult. Deciding instead to try and excavate the removal of further
stone, he persevered with the collection of two or three bluestone with each
attempt. It was a slow and tedious operation. Following around ten tries, it
was time to prod away at the base again in hope the seal would finally give
way.

 

With maximum downward thrust, the
bucket had done its work. An avalanche of rocks broke free and rolled downward
into the depths below. A thunderous noise greeted the ground level observers. A
round of applause followed and the crane operator bowed in acknowledgement.
Their perseverance had finally paid off. It was now time to re-enter the hole
to see what had emerged.

 

Again with the security of
waist-tied ropes, the same three men descended into the immediate hollow. An
excited anticipation was evident as they made their approach toward the
extended cavity. Standing to one side of this newly created hole, the
realisation of their discovery was suddenly an overwhelming spectacle.

 

The long-time fictional and
legendary subterranean passageway stood before them in all its wonder and
dubious glory. It was a sight to behold. The ancient relic had suddenly
manifested itself and did not disappoint the three police officers. They felt
somewhat humbled and privileged by its mere presence. With their three torches
illuminating the darkened cavity an extraordinarily wide passageway could be
seen descending its path to a landing some ten metres below. The ceiling was
curved and generous in size. The structure was entirely made from bluestone and
the architecture was reminiscent of some medieval design that would have been
commonplace many centuries ago. The stone craftsmanship allegedly constructed
by convict labour was exceptional. Neither expense nor labour had been spared
for this monumental project.

 

The first immediate landing was
immense. A metal handrail, possibly made from brass or bronze, was erected to
one side only, but time had brought about deterioration whereby only half the
railing stood today. Candleholders inserted to thinly applied mortar were
plentiful. The light source could just detect a further descending passageway
from this immediate platform. It was anybody’s guess as to what depth the
underground network would reach. A musty air could be detected with possibly
the presence of water or mildew nearby.

 

This initial sighting conjured up
a multitude of probabilities, in addition to the search for Scorpio’s southern
operation and the infamous Piedpiper. The constabulary’s eventual entry into
this underworld oddity would be an experience unmatched by any previous
excursion.

 

As if on a mission, possessed
with an unrelenting passion to catch these criminals, Forbes smiled inwardly
with the realisation that he was now extremely close to these imminent arrests.

 

~ * ~

 

Within
the confines of the cellar walls behind the RSL Club, thirteen people were
congregated in anticipation of stepping forth into the underground network. For
some, the long-awaited journey into the unknown was about to become reality.

 

In an attempt to speed up
proceedings, the sledgehammer was proving to be a formable tool. Darren had
been pounding away at the depressed bluestone for at least ten minutes. Most of
the rock directly incurring the impact had moved, primarily caused by the
weakening of mortar surround. The cellar floor had been neglected for decades
and having had no periodical maintenance the immediate area was rapidly
crumbling away. The notable burden was not so much the loosening of rock, but
rather the noise generated by the sledgehammer. In a confined space this
constant pulverization was recipe for a bumper headache. With each downward
stroke I could see most of the faces grimace in anticipation.

 

Indigo suddenly stepped forward
and ordered a three-minute rest. Like everyone else he too had grown tired of
the repetitive sound. He then issued instructions that following the break
Stephen Buchanan would resume the next ten-minute session. Despite being a pen
pusher, the bank manager had a sizeable frame and would most likely make short
work of this stoned floor.

 

Within the space of five minutes
he had successfully dislodged most of the bluestone. Requesting a short break,
he gathered his breath before the final onslaught. Resuming the task and with
the energy similar to that of some bygone gladiator, Buchanan grunted and
groaned as he repeatedly swung the heavy sledgehammer. Finally, and to the
relief of the next scheduled person - Ashley Collins - the floor broke away in
the central depressed area. Choosing to ignore a tempting peep, Buchanan
continued to blast away at the surrounds to enlarge the overall size. The sound
of stone could be heard plundering far below. Almost out of breath, he had
increased the cavity to be large enough to accommodate two adults. With one
task remaining, the banker then removed the odd loose stone or two that
precariously hovered on the edge. His job was now complete, enabling all the
bystanders to each view the long-awaited site.

 

Invariably it was Indigo who
first stepped forward to gaze into this mystery from the past. After all he
carried authority and it was his privilege to make the initial inspection.
Unbeknown to Indigo and the remainder of the group, the sight to behold was in
stark contrast to that of Broadbent’s introduction.

 

His torchlight revealed a
relatively narrow and steeply descending staircase, which took a sharp
right-hand turn some ten metres further down. The pathway would take no more
than two abreast and the height of the curvature ceiling was not constructed
with six-foot people in mind. This immediate corridor was entirely surrounded
by bluestone and a mixture of stale air and dampness could be detected. The
image from below projected a dingy and uninviting entry into the world of
subterranean passageways.

 

With no time for pre-entry
glances, the Traffik leader, who was still brandishing his gun, immediately
ordered randomly selected pairs to make the short jump onto the landing below.
With Indigo and Richard Smyth the last to leap, the party of thirteen finally
assembled on to the initial platform.

 

We stood and waited for his next
directive. Two of the captors, bearing the names Ivan and Martin, proceeded to
the front of the group with their torches blazing ahead. Some irritating fool
called Dave, another named Larry together with Indigo retreated to the rear,
shining their annoying crisscross lighting on us and the surrounding
architecture. With instructions to move forward, our journey into the unknown
depths had commenced.

 

Forever descending in pairs and
being watchful of the low and obtrusive ceiling, the stench of mildew and a
further smell I couldn’t quite detect was beginning to make me dry retch. I
marveled at the mere thought that our expedition was beneath Pedley, but this
deplorable environment was not what I had expected. We had travelled downward
some thirty metres or so when quite unexpectedly we reached a second landing.
For what appeared to be at least the foreseeable distance, the steps had given
way to a flat and wide passageway.

 

The transformation was
instantaneous. The corridor before us continued to broaden and the height of
the ceiling was considerably more generous. Passageways from both sides of the
main arterial beckoned a diversion, but the Traffik quintet gave explicit
instructions to remain on course with the wider and more prominent walkway.

 

I was intrigued how something on
such a vast scale could have been lit throughout the centuries. Unless our
predecessors had the ability to see in the dark, this subterranean network must
somehow have been illuminated. I continued to glance with regularity toward the
ceiling and could only conclude that flaming torches had not been used, for
these curvatures above our heads had not been blackened from residual smoke. I
had read somewhere once that the ancient Greeks and Romans preferred the use of
phenomenal lamps, since the light they projected supposedly lasted for hundreds
of years without the replenishment of fuel. With impeccable timing, the Traffik
leader suddenly stopped to inspect a light source coming from a side chamber.

 

The party halted while he carried
out his inspection. Curiosity, I was beginning to suspect, was a telling Indigo
attribute. He entered the chamber to our left and approached the illuminated
light coming from a tube resting on a recessed bluestone. Interestingly, the
closer he converged the brighter the light source shone, but as he reached out
to touch the tube, the light immediately disappeared. Indigo tried in vain to
get the tube to glow again, but it was useless. It would no longer provide
light. He returned with the tube to the passageway and placed it on the stone
floor. He then instructed one of the lackeys to shine his torch directly on the
object while he examined the contents.

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