Scorpio's Lot (27 page)

Forbes nearly choked on his tea
on hearing the word Peterswood and some business matter.

‘Are you all right?’ asked the
publican.

‘Yes, I’m fine, tea went down the
wrong way.’

Johnson tried re-dialing but the
signal was too weak. ‘These mobiles can be bloody useless sometimes!’ he
grumbled.

Forbes was unsure if the comment
was directed at him or not. He left the cafe and returned to his office in a
curious frame of mind following the events over breakfast.

~ * ~

At
around the same time as Forbes’ encounter in the cafe, Senior Sergeant Ross
Whittaker parked his car in Bridge Street to follow up a problem at the Regency
Nightclub. His subordinate had filed a report regarding a theft the previous
night, but the club’s on-duty manager had requested the attendance of the most
senior-ranked officer. At 8.55 am Whittaker had arrived slightly ahead of schedule
and found the front entrance still locked. With five minutes to kill he
returned to his car and waited patiently for the doors to be opened by the
morning staff. He sat observing the pedestrians scurry toward their intended
destinations, undoubtedly on a mission to arrive on the preferred side of nine
o’clock. Then he made a most peculiar observation.

On the footpath directly opposite
the nightclub, James Slattery and Kurt Muller were walking on a collision
course toward each other. Whittaker was expecting the two men to cross paths
without acknowledging the presence of the other, but they stopped to carry out
a conversation. That’s strange, thought Whittaker. He wasn’t aware that Brigit
O’Neill’s ex-boyfriend and the resident of the caravan park knew each other.
The discussion appeared spirited and he could only surmise there was more to
this unexpected rendezvous than passing pleasantries. They gave the impression
that both men were mutually satisfied about something. Their heads nodded in
agreement and their body language suggested they had been friends for some
time. Whittaker thought it was odd to have a resident of Pedley in social
contact with a casual visitor who resided at the caravan park. What common
interest did these two share?

To his further surprise Slattery
then retrieved a carton wrapped in brown paper from a plastic carry bag. His
actions appeared cautious as he surveyed the immediate vicinity, giving the
impression the contents were of a dubious nature. The object was about the size
of a shoebox. He passed the package to Muller, who accepted it with a
handshake.

Whittaker’s curiosity level
heightened. He contemplated whether to investigate the matter further. At that
precise moment his concentration was distracted as the Regency Nightclub’s
doors were finally opened. His hesitation had resulted in missed opportunity,
for the two men had already departed and gone their separate ways. He was
puzzled by this curious rendezvous and realised that if it hadn’t been for his
nine o’clock meeting he would be none the wiser about their connection. With
the club now accessible, he decided to keep his appointment.

~ * ~

amish
and Brigit were preparing a breakfast of porridge and scrambled eggs when news
of the overnight storm was suddenly broadcast from the kitchen radio.

The Bureau of Meteorology has issued flooding in the
following affected areas. For east of Ravensmouth Peninsula include the regions
of Middleton, Guildford, South Stretton and Torrens. West of Cascade Heads
include Bowden, Bellrose and Leeman. The low-lying farming communities of Blakey
and Ashworth are currently without power and all major roads leading into
Pedley and Talbolt have been cut. Fortunately there have been no reported
fatalities and the estimated damage is expected to reach ...

‘I think we get the general
picture. So how do we return to Pedley?’ enquired Burke, turning down the
volume.

‘I can only think of one possible
route,’ said Hamish.

‘Oh, and what might that be?’ I
asked.

‘Take the boat from Seddon, a
small fishing village about twenty minutes south of Ashworth.’

‘A boat, Hamish? Are you out of
your mind?’ I responded.

‘On the contrary, I believe it to
be a sensible route,’ insisted Hamish.

‘Why, in God’s name?’

‘Because it’s the only way you can
return to Pedley.’

‘Haven’t you forgotten one thing?
According to the weather report the farming community of Ashworth is flooded
and has no power,’ said Brigit.

‘They referred to the low-lying
areas, which are on the Pedley side of town. The road from Peterswood is on
high ground, as is the route from Ashworth to Seddon.’

Burke said, ‘Hamish, tell me more
about this boat.’

‘The boat takes up to around ten
or so vehicles and carries a maximum of thirty people,’ he said, looking at his
watch. ‘It’s quarter to ten now. The boat departs at one o’clock each afternoon
so there’s plenty of time to get down there. However, with this flood crisis in
mind there’s the possibility a number of people will have the same idea. I
suggest you leave very soon.’

‘How do we get there?’ asked
Burke.

‘Travel back to Ashworth, and
just past the main street you’ll see a signpost on the left indicating Seddon,
eighteen kilometres away. The road from there will take you over the McDonald
Ranges and then wind its way down into the town.’

‘What sort of boat is it?’ I
asked.

‘I’ve travelled on her before.
She’s an old cargo boat called the
Molly Bloom.
She ain’t no
Queen
Mary,
but it’s a good trip around the coast taking three hours to reach
Pedley.’

‘The Pedley wharf is a good
distance from the main road and maybe the last place this syndicate might
suspect,’ offered Martino.

‘That may be so, but I still
believe the four of you need to be on your guard the moment you leave the farm,’
said the wary Irishman. ‘These drug people followed you to my farm, so what’s
to stop them laying in wait on the return trip?’

‘Tom, did you ever find your
mobile?’ asked Burke. ‘I’m anxious to contact base and leave a message.’

‘No. It must’ve dropped to the
ground when those bastards harassed us last night. I’ve already looked this
morning but can’t find the bloody thing. It’s probably destroyed by now.’

‘There’ll be two-way or mobile
communication aboard the
Molly Bloom.
It’ll have to wait until then. At
least police business will guarantee us passage,’ replied Burke.

The weather was moderately warm,
providing both a cloudless sky and gentle breeze. We said our goodbyes to
Hamish and his dogs, vowing to return when this murder and drug matter was
over. Cain and Abel commenced their farewell run on either side of our car, but
stopped short upon reaching The Grange arch.

Our two-car trip from Peterswood
to Ashworth was a slow and tedious journey. The storm had left its trail of
destruction and debris scattered throughout the land. Overnight waterfalls had
been formed and were still sending down their cascading overflows from the
hillside peaks. The intensity of the rain had created a path of corrugated
burrows upon the gravel surface, resulting in a continuous vibration that shook
the cars, and us, to the hilt. According to Hamish, a bitumen road would not
greet us until the stretch between Ashworth and Seddon. It couldn’t come quick
enough.

Turning a sharp corner I suddenly
noticed a number of people, both adults and children, walking toward us with
heads bowed. I decided to pull over and ask about the road conditions up ahead.
Leaving my car, I strolled toward the approaching group. To my dismay the
situation was far worse than anticipated.

‘We’ve travelled on foot from the
valley. It’s a disaster down there, widespread flooding everywhere and a number
of debris flows are still happening,’ their spokesman informed me.

‘And the road ahead?’

‘There was a landslide about a
kilometre from here, but a number of the locals cleared an opening this morning.
Apparently the first priority is to keep as many roads open as possible. But it’s
a different story down below, where a number of communities are already
isolated. Bridges and roads are impassible and a lot of power lines are down.’

‘Where are you all headed?’ I
asked.

‘We have two large cabins in the
hills not far from here, which is where we’ll stay until the flood subsides.’

I couldn’t help but feel for
these poor souls. All they appeared to have left were the clothes on their
backs and a number of bags with basic essentials.

I had read somewhere about these
debris flows which emerge from high ground as a result of rain-saturated
terrain. Progressively becoming landslides, they travel down the steep
hillsides as soil slumps that tend to liquefy and accelerate in speed. As
momentum gathers, the soil flows collect small trees and foliage in their path,
depositing mud and debris upon the ground below. Looking around, I could see
the creek to my left had been transformed into a swollen stream and I could
only envisage the devastation this one creek alone would carry down to the
valley.

‘I can see by your expression you’re
shocked by all this,’ remarked the spokesman.

‘I’m sorry, I had no idea the
extent of damage this storm had caused.’

‘Consider yourself lucky to be on
high ground. The devastation below will take some time to fix. The land’s
littered with dead cattle and there are scores of teams clearing it with
chainsaws. Our immediate need is heavy machinery, but of course this will take
time.’

‘We hope your luck turns for the
better,’ I said as a parting gesture.

‘Yes, a good time to be on
speaking terms with the almighty,’ he called back as the group recommenced
their ascending route.

I walked over to the police car
to inform Burke and Martino of what had been discussed. They had both chosen to
remain in the car to listen to the latest flood report.

Some two minutes down the road
the distinct sound of chainsaws greeted our arrival. Whittling away at the
pines and gums that had contributed to this havoc, the path was now all but
cleared. I could see the resultant scarred path the landslide had created and
couldn’t help but marvel at the hard work these men had accomplished. They
reassured us that the remainder of the trip to Ashworth should be accessible
providing we drove with caution.

My immediate concern was the
numerous creek crossings, and with each passing came a feeling of relief that
the bridges had been built to withstand the onslaught of the storm. Fortunately
this country road continued to wind its path throughout the high country,
allowing sufficient elevation to escape the flood lands below.

When we finally arrived in
Ashworth, the village looked remarkably unscathed despite the numerous warnings
issued by the bureau. I could only surmise the damage was concentrated
throughout the low-lying farming communities to the western side of town.