Scorpio's Lot (54 page)

‘Very well, Victor,’ acknowledged
the regional head and then proceeded to explain their change in plans. ‘Okay,
this is the present situation. With the crowds now congregated in Pedley, I
believe it’s far too dangerous to meet underground for fear of our entrance
being observed.’

‘That’s understandable. Where do
you have in mind?’

‘First, did you bring the
document?’

‘Yes, and it’s vital I hand it
across at our earliest opportunity. I believe your cover to be more secure than
mine since only three people know your identity. With the possibility of
Traffik being in town, there’s still a remote chance that someone in their
organisation may recognise me. It’s unlikely but I can’t afford to take the
risk, so it’s imperative we make the exchange today,’ insisted the Keeper.

‘I still maintain I could have
met you at the farm and saved you the trouble in town.’

‘And as I’ve stated before, we
cannot be seen together in public. How many more times do I have to bloody
remind you! Under no circumstances will I allow anyone the opportunity to
witness a possible link. Your cover must remain intact.’

‘But the farm is hardly what I’d
call a public arena.’

‘In our game you take no chances,’
Marlow said, ‘and besides, the helicopter may have aroused someone’s idle
curiosity. So where do we make this exchange since the underground is now out
of the question?’

‘I suggest we cross paths during
the parade, which is due to commence in just over an hour. Everybody’s
attention will be focused on the procession and therefore it’ll be an opportune
time to pass the document discreetly. I’ll be positioned on the east side of
Pitt Street between Covert and Williams,’ explained the Piedpiper.

‘Very well, but under no
circumstances are we to acknowledge each other’s presence. And be prepared, for
fate may only allow one chance at this exchange. The sooner this transaction’s
completed the better, just in case I’m spotted. We’ll meet this evening in the
underground for discussions around nine,’ said Marlow.

‘Agreed. Tell me, Victor, could
you recognise any members of the Traffik syndicate?’

‘I believe three would be
recognisable. With regards to their members, the document makes reference to
five such people, outlining full names, addresses and telephone numbers.
Unfortunately their supreme leader remains anonymous. Supposedly he’s closely
guarded by his inner sanctum. Despite this setback, the exposure of these five
individuals to the authorities will be enough to destroy their operation.’

‘Fine. All is now in readiness
for our rendezvous at the carnival. Remember, east side between Covert and
Williams on Pitt Street,’ reiterated the Piedpiper.

‘Just one last thing,’ said
Marlow. ‘Do not underestimate the police. They’ll be out in numbers, both
uniformed and plainclothes. Be extremely wary of their observation from both
building sites and ground level.’

~ * ~

y
11.30 am the crowds had swelled to a figure exceeding twenty thousand. Pitt
Street in particular was lined ten-deep in places, with many people having
arrived early to secure a vantage point. I could feel the excitement mounting
in anticipation of a spectacular parade. Today these many thousands would host
the mood. The length of Pitt Street was draped with every conceivable
decoration imaginable. Additionally, the carnival’s traditional colours of
purple (representing justice), green (depicting faith) and gold (symbolising
power) took pride of place. In the company of Emily and Martha Kellett, I stood
waiting to view this expectant burst of vibrant energy.

Whilst I eagerly awaited the
parade, there was also the issue regarding Scorpio and its supreme leader’s
arrival I couldn’t ignore. Burke had taken the liberty of advising me of the
syndicate’s intention, claiming a further set of eyes observing crowd behaviour
could only assist with their limited numbers.

A sudden fanfare of trumpets
heralded the commencement of the parade, much to the delight of the children
and cheering crowd. Turning right from Covert into Pitt, the procession was led
by a brass band playing ‘Dixie’, immediately followed by the first exhibit
depicting Neptune, the Roman god of the sea. The float came complete with a
swimming pool and an abundance of mermaids frolicking within its waters. High
above the corner building, a cascade of confetti showered down upon the old man
of the sea and his aquatic entourage in a highly effective, shimmering
spectacle. Following Neptune, the equally superb floats of Noah’s Ark, with its
abundance of animals, and the hoisting of the Jolly Roger on a pirate ship,
including some captive walking the plank, brought up the rear.

Among the parade of marching
girls, a man on stilts and a trio of jugglers performed their balancing acts.
Four and five year olds screamed with excitement upon seeing a Punch and Judy
Show performed on a passing cart, while clowns entertained children and adults
alike with their antics and acrobatic routines. A chamber of horrors float
bearing first prize was a sight to behold, capturing the macabre relics of the
French Revolution with the death masks of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. Not
to be outdone, the infamous Madame Guillotine, together with other Bastille
delights, took centre stage on the float. A torture wheel and the garrote
strangling instrument, amid further execution methods, completed the display.
The morbid float, while superbly exhibited, seemed inappropriate for the
occasion, I thought.

On a lighter note, a tribute to
Lewis Carroll enthralled the youngsters with a superb rendition of the Mad
Hatter’s tea party, complete with the portrayal of the deck of cards from the
much-loved children’s story
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.
The Queen
of Hearts was decisively adventurous as she rained kisses on anyone that moved.
Hundreds of streamers and balloons were now being released above the procession
and crowd as the exhibits slowly passed our vantage point.

An excellent presentation
depicting human statues in superbly detailed likeness and dress attire received
an enthusiastic applause as it passed by the appreciative onlookers.
Reminiscent of Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum, it included Mahatma Gandhi, Charlie
Chaplin, Ayrton Senna, Jimmy Hendrix and Marilyn Monroe.

Confetti continued to fall and
dance on a light breeze that carried the abundance of circular particles in a
hundred directions. In an eye-catching display of horticultural excellence, a
floral float amassed with many hundreds of flowers lay host to the Pedley
Parade Princess. She sat upon her throne of purple, green and gold waving to
the passing spectators. Amidst further exhibits, hoards of individuals in fancy
dress danced and sang their way down the colourful and vibrant Pitt Street.
Mother Nature had taken kindly to the passing parade, for a cloudless blue sky
in late winter was the perfect tonic to reward this enthusiastic crowd. Without
exception, the parade today was living up to its usual high standard.

~ * ~

So
as not to attract any undue attention, Victor Marlow, Brad Morgan and Charlie
had parted company upon arriving in Pedley, knowing the police would be lying
in wait to observe any unusual behaviour. Operating alone, Marlow knew his
objective would be less conspicuous. Knowing only two other people could
identify his regional head, he decided to contact Neville Bradbury via mobile
to commence his preliminaries.

‘Neville, have you located the
whereabouts of the Piedpiper?’

‘Yes, sir, between Covert and
Williams on Pitt Street.’

‘Dressed in what clothing?’

‘I can just make out a long brown
coat, but no hat,’ responded Bradbury.

‘Good, and where’s everyone else?’

‘Charlie, Mick, Sol and Morgan
are all presently on Pitt Street, but at separate locations as instructed.’

‘Okay. I’m currently between
Green and Williams, walking in a southerly direction. Without being obvious,
keep focused on me and the Piedpiper in case something unexpected happens. Warn
me if something doesn’t seem right,’ ordered the Keeper.

‘Very good, sir.’

Marlow, aided by a pair of
RadioShack binoculars secured to a cord dangling freely in front, and wearing
dark sunglasses, continued to walk up Pitt Street, drawing closer to his
subordinate’s position. He suddenly felt a vibration coming from his mobile
phone.

‘Yes.’

‘Morgan, sir. I recognise two
syndicate members from Traffik.’

‘Shit! Their location?’

‘On Pitt between Covert and
Williams.’

‘Christ almighty, that’s the very
block I’m to carry out the transfer! Who are these two, Morgan?’

‘Klaus Schmitt and Dean
Templeton.’

‘I know these bloody idiots, but
it’s been some time since I’ve laid eyes on the pair. Hopefully I can still
recognise them. Give Neville a description and their location.’

‘They’re presently together and
both dressed in dark-blue or violet tracksuits. One of them’s carrying a
stuffed toy he must’ve won at a shooting gallery this morning,’ said Morgan,
who was still quietly pissed off with his superior for never divulging the
identity of the Piedpiper. Still, he might be privileged one day if they ever
decided to take him into their confidence.

‘What sort of stuffed toy?’ the
Keeper enquired.

‘From this distance it appears to
be a giraffe.’

~ * ~

Burke
looked down on the masses from his window vantage point on the fourth storey of
the corner TGE Insurance building. With binoculars and two-way communication,
he could pinpoint an individual at one hundred metres. Through the lens of his
field glasses he cast an eye on males who appeared to exceed fifty years. Which
one? thought the sergeant, peering down at the likely candidates. What would
the supreme leader of a major drug syndicate look like?

A man on the other side of the
street was in conversation with a middle-aged woman. They seemed to be a
married couple, which made them an unlikely possibility. Three men in the next
block appeared to be sharing a joke and enjoying the splendor of the
procession. They appeared relaxed and were oblivious to spectators in their
immediate surrounds. The body language alone indicated these men were not about
to contemplate some forthcoming document transfer. Another unlikely
possibility. A man in the same block had just purchased fairy floss and was
passing the stick to a young girl of around seven years. Probably her
grandfather, he thought. Again, an unlikely candidate.

Burke continued to span the crowd
with his binoculars. Momentarily pausing from searching amongst this fifty-plus
lot, he was amused to read a caption outside a shop that sold compasses. Very
clever, he thought, reading the slogan with its double meaning: BUY ONE OR GET
LOST.

His persistence from the window
ledge was rewarded with a further five candidates, but with each observation
came disappointment. None of these individuals fulfilled the required criteria.
He observed more people and it was all becoming a bit frustrating. Had this
candidate been over eighty years the field would narrow considerably.