Authors: Ray Smithies
Tags: #Fiction, #Thrillers, #Drug Traffic, #made by MadMaxAU
The journey to an unknown
destination began. Brigit sensed there were three other people on board, namely
the two men who had blindfolded her, plus the driver. Their discussions were
always brief and deliberate, never once making any direct reference to the
syndicate’s location or operations. Nervously she sat wondering what fate
awaited her. After around ten minutes the car came to a halt.
With her hood still secure, she
was led some twenty steps forward and ordered to stand still. Immediately
following the command she could hear a voice she hadn’t detected back at the
country location. She had the impression the voice belonged to someone of
authority. But who was this person? The people who had delivered her to this
site were now retreating to their vehicle and with the turn of the ignition key
they were gone.
Silence prevailed for around
thirty seconds. Suddenly the sound of a mechanical device could be heard
opening a door of some description. The straining noise suggested something
weight-bearing was being shifted to enable entry. The noise then ceased and a
hand grabbed hold of Brigit’s coat, forcing her to start walking. Twelve steps
forward and the same hand indicated to stop. She heard the sound of a second
person readjusting the controls, and the straining noise recommenced, which
could only mean the door behind her was closing.
To Brigit’s surprise the roles
were now reversed. Upon the removal of her hood she saw that her two abductors
were wearing balaclavas to shield their identities. She stood on a platform
looking down at a staircase that may have been as deep as a three-storey
building, perhaps deeper. The darkness below gave little clue. With the aid of
torches the three commenced their descent, never pausing for a stop at each of
the two landings en route to the bottom. It was a straight descent all the way
down and Brigit was relieved that a safety rail had been provided. With each
descending step she wondered where in the hell she was going.
The stairway was completely
surrounded by bluestone and granite, with reinforced concrete applied to
various crevices. Time had obviously brought some form of deterioration. She
heard the echoing sound of water droplets as they danced upon the collective
pools embedded in the rocky terrain. The air had a distinctly unpleasant, musty
odour and the walls at times reflected a penetrating dampness that had seeped
through from the surface. The whole place reeked of an offensive smell as if
some cracked sewerage pipeline was running close by.
They arrived at the basement and
the immediate surrounds astonished Brigit, for the place was a network of
tunnels that had probably been excavated many generations ago. Somewhat
reminiscent of the early catacombs, the basement gave the impression that it
had been used as a subterranean cemetery. The side recesses still had the remains
of carefully stacked skulls that had been labelled according to their year of
burial. Possibly convict labour brought to the mainland, Brigit thought.
The sight of these deposits sent
shivers down her spine and she could only imagine this eerie walk would contain
further examples of convict suffering. But where was this basement located? She
had no immediate answers, but if it were beneath some township why hadn’t the
authorities or public discovered this underworld long before now? She wondered
for a brief moment whether this place could be known by certain fraternities.
If it had or was to become public property, then the place would undoubtedly
become a refuge for enterprising souls such as drug dealers, addicts,
eccentrics, and those into secret meetings or unusual parties.
From where she stood there were
three immediate passageways, all leading in different directions. The two men
pointed toward the chosen route. Turning a corner, she could immediately see a
major junction up ahead comprising five passages leading from this central
location. The tunnel leading to this junction contained further recesses, each
displaying their collection of skulls from a specified year. Brigit counted
hundreds in passing and wondered where such a vast number could have come from.
Unbeknown to Brigit, this
district at one time had suffered from contamination caused by poor burials and
mass graves in churchyards that spread disease in the area. The authorities
decided to move the bones and place them in underground passageways. It was
unclear why only the skulls had survived.
The tunnel they now walked
through provided wall lights situated every ten metres, with sufficient
illumination to eliminate the need for torches. Acutely observant, Brigit was
aware that both the stench and dampness had disappeared and the tunnels were
increasing in size. The sudden presence of this subdued light presented her
with the opportunity to study her two abductors in more detail. Carefully and
inconspicuously, she looked on these men in hope there would be some noticeable
feature like a birthmark, a scar or perhaps even a tattoo on display.
Unfortunately no distinguishing marks were to be found, since the wearing of
full-length overalls complete with balaclavas provided little or no hope of
uncovering such a find. Additionally, both men were of average height and
build. The whole identification process was a waste of time, she thought. It
was frustrating not being able to come up with at least some minute detail.
To one side of the pathway a
series of chambers now stood in a row, each erected in the theme of bluestone
and granite. Brigit considered that maybe prisoners or even convicts from a
past era were housed in these rooms that weren’t much bigger than a garden
shed. If this were true then how inhumane the authorities of the time must have
been.
Reaching their destination,
Brigit was placed in a room of generous size that provided various furniture
pieces, including a bed and sanitary facilities. A small collection of books
sat on a shelf and a bowl of fruit with various drinks were provided upon a
central table. It wasn’t exactly the Hilton, but at least it appeared clean and
the bed looked half reasonable. Tiredness had now overtaken the trauma of being
in this underground world of subterranean passageways. The door was closed and
she was advised to rest. Someone would see to her later.
~ * ~
Following
Brigit’s abduction and her eventual transfer to the underground network, the
Piedpiper requested an update via the landline with a loudspeaker to enable
extended communication amongst its participants. This would include Neville
Bradbury, Charlie, Sol and Brad Morgan.
At precisely ten pm Bradbury
placed the call and commenced the briefing.
‘We have Brigit O’Neill in our
safekeeping and she’s now resting in an adjacent room.’
‘Good, at least one part of my
instruction was carried out. How is her condition?’ replied a stern Piedpiper.
‘Stressed but otherwise okay.’
‘Charlie and Morgan, would you
please explain and justify your actions on the
Molly Bloom.’
It was Morgan who decided to
offer an explanation. ‘Some passengers defied orders so there was need to take
appropriate action.’
‘Under whose orders, may I ask?’
came the angry response.
‘It was necessary to carry out
these executions to keep control of the situation,’ Morgan claimed.
‘Do you have any idea what you’ve
created by your stupidity?’
With no response from either man
the regional head continued.
‘You have managed to attract
unprecedented attention to an otherwise simple task that should have been
carried out both quietly and efficiently. They were my orders, but you have
both chosen to ignore my instructions. Your actions today have prompted
national media coverage, with the country now focused on Pedley. The police presence
will be intensified and journalists will start poking their noses into every
conceivable thing that moves.’
‘But you would understand that
our actions were appropriate had you been on board,’ insisted Morgan, trying to
defend their actions.
‘Listen to me and stop with these
pathetic justifications! Tonight I received a phone call from the Keeper asking
for an explanation following the evening news. Every man and his dog is now
demanding answers and understandably the public is expecting swift action and
arrests.’ The Piedpiper was clearly livid at their shortsightedness.
‘What’s done is done, can’t turn
the clock back now,’ volunteered Charlie in his typical absurd approach.
‘For Christ’s sake, shut up
Charlie if you have nothing sensible to offer,’ the Piedpiper said. ‘Do you
realise the effect this will have on our southern operation? The police will
now have their ears and eyes everywhere, making the task of moving consignments
more difficult. The pressure placed on our logistics team to maintain supply
and demand has quadrupled.’
‘Yes,’ said Morgan
unconvincingly.
‘It is my understanding that
three men and a dog were eliminated.’
‘Two men, boss. The third was
thrown overboard. The dog was silenced because it threatened us,’ declared
Charlie.
‘Spare me the details. Tell me,
who was the gun-happy culprit?’
With no volunteers coming
forward, the regional head persisted. It was important to establish the guilty
party since the Keeper had requested a full report by midnight.
‘Come now, you’re both grown men.
Time to own up and be accountable for your actions.’
‘I used me trusty blade when it
was necessary,’ offered a nervous Charlie.
‘Thank you, Charlie, but it was
the gun I was referring to.’
‘It was me. But to repeat myself,
the situation justified the use of arms,’ declared the arrogant Morgan.
‘Don’t begin to play games with
me, Morgan, or I’ll have your head for this stupidity. To put it bluntly, there’s
no justification for running amok with your trigger-happy behaviour that now
has the whole damn country in the know. By your thoughtless actions and clear
disregard for orders, you have both potentially put our southern operation back
twelve months!’
The Piedpiper was, nevertheless,
relieved to hear that the main instigator was Victor Marlow’s subordinate.
There was silence following this unexpected outburst. The regional head then
continued on a different subject.
‘On another matter, I hope the O’Neill
girl didn’t see our drug operation this evening.’
‘No, boss,’ Charlie answered promptly.
Neville Bradbury, who had
remained quiet throughout this discussion, unexpectedly brought up some further
information he thought should be conveyed to his superior.
‘By the way, the police called
into Broadbent’s this afternoon. It was Sergeant Carpenter, asking for some
food and drink supplies for a forthcoming police function. He selected a couple
of dozen bottles from the cellar, but I’m certain he wasn’t suspicious. It all
looked reasonably legitimate, and even if it wasn’t there was nothing to suggest
the warehouse had a multiple function.’
‘No harm done, but I’m curious as
to why he would approach Broadbent and not the local supermarket,’ pondered the
regional head.
‘Something to do with saving a
few dollars, he claimed.’
‘It’s not a priority, but when
you have some spare time do a routine check and establish if this so-called
police function is factual.’
‘Certainly, Piedpiper,’
acknowledged the ever-obliging Bradbury.
‘The present situation is of
concern. We need to be extra careful and on guard at all times. In light of
what’s transpired this afternoon, it’s highly probable our resident detectives
will now receive a backup team from city headquarters. Their extra resources
will undoubtedly put a strain on business, but these are circumstances we’ll
all have to live with. Above all, I insist that no one engages in any further
foolish behaviour that attracts attention. Given today’s events it will most
likely result in a downscale of operations, which hopefully will only be a
temporary measure.’
Without warning the Piedpiper
hung up.
~ * ~