Scorpio's Lot (127 page)

‘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.

~ * ~

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 dropped 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.