Scorpio's Lot (55 page)

And then two likely
possibilities, speaking on their mobiles, came into view. Burke decided to
contact Detective Forbes.

‘There are simply too many
individuals to observe at any one time,’ he told the detective, ‘but two likely
candidates are walking south along Pitt Street between Green and Williams. As I
speak they’re both using their mobile phones. From your position I suggest it’s
worth taking a closer look.’

‘Very good, sergeant. Just
continue to feed me with likely suspects and we’ll do the rest from down here,’
instructed Forbes, who wondered for a moment whether the Piedpiper would be
accompanied by his so-called lover.

~ * ~

I
could see that Emily and Martha were enjoying the parade immensely. It had been
some time since Em had worn such a broad smile and this happy occasion was
proving to be the best medicine. The troubles of the past three weeks were
temporarily put on hold. Many more floats and bands continued to file past,
each receiving an enthusiastic response from the appreciative crowd. The skies
were still full of confetti, streamers and balloons and I was beginning to
wonder if there was no end to this constant spillage of descending paper.
Heaven help the street cleaner come tomorrow morning, I thought.

A huge reception greeted the
second-prize float depicting a tribute to L Frank Baum’s immortal classic
The
Wizard of Oz.
It was a massive presentation featuring the yellow brick road
en route to the Emerald City. Amidst an enchanted forest emerged the characters
of Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion. Children jeered
at the Wicked Witch as she sat on a broomstick casting her spells. The full
length of the float incorporated an elevated rainbow to complete the impressive
exhibit.

Amongst the colour and energy of
the parade, a bizarre incident was about to occur. I was observing the Walt
Disney spectacle when unexpectedly the sight of a fiend from hell momentarily
held me motionless. Were my eyes deceiving me? For a minute or two Snow White
and the Seven Dwarfs obstructed my view, then this person suddenly reappeared
on the other side of the road. The impeccably dressed man returned my stare and
our eyes met for a moment.

There was no mistaking this
individual. This was the assassin from the
Molly Bloom,
and for that
matter, the very same who had threatened us at home. I felt a chill run up my
spine, for this person reeked evil in just sheer presence alone. I called on
Emily and Martha to verify my sighting.

‘Do you recognise the man
opposite, dressed in a blue-and-maroon chequered coat?’

‘Where, Tom?’ enquired Martha. ‘I
can’t see anyone dressed that way.’

‘Why the sudden interest in
someone wearing a chequered coat?’ asked a puzzled Emily.

‘Because he’s the same person who
threatened us in our home.’

‘But Tom, how do you expect
Martha or me to identify this person when he wore a balaclava,’ said Emily,
glancing across the road.

‘Sorry, forgot about that. I must
be mistaken,’ I responded to lessen the impact. Needing an excuse to depart, I
added, ‘You two go on watching the procession. I need to find a toilet.’

With the assassin having
disappeared from view, I retreated to the back of the crowd and placed a phone
call, rather than alarm the women with my persistence. After all, they were
here to enjoy the carnival and not participate in some manhunt.

‘Darren, it’s Tom Harrison. There’s
a man dressed in a blue-and-maroon chequered coat currently on Pitt Street
between Covert and Williams. He’s the same person responsible for the murders
aboard the
Molly Bloom.
I recall his face before he slipped on the
balaclava. I suggest you inform Forbes immediately and I’ll see if I can find
him again. The guy has since moved, having seen me talk to Emily and Martha.’

‘Which side of the street, Tom?’
asked Darren.

‘West side.’

‘I’ll alert Forbes immediately.’

~ * ~

Having
diverted further down Pitt Street and shaken off the stares and obvious
recognition coming from Tom Harrison, Morgan again took up position amongst the
crowd observing the passing procession. The temporary setback on being
identified was of no great concern to him. He had discarded his coat in a
rubbish bin and now blended inconspicuously into the crowd. In his mind the priority
and responsibility was to inform his superior of any potential trouble leading
up to the exchange.

He saw that Klaus Schmitt and
Dean Templeton from the rival organisation Traffik continued to remain in close
proximity and, ironically, in the vicinity of the forthcoming exchange.
Frustration continued to irritate him in not knowing the identity of the
Piedpiper. In this one block alone there would be at least two thousand people.

Having passed Sol and Charlie,
who were maintaining surveillance from the preceding corner, Victor Marlow had
progressed considerably on foot and was now within striking distance of the
rendezvous point. Up ahead he could see Bradbury and Mick standing apart, but
more important was the presence of the Piedpiper some ten metres further on.
The crowd continued to cheer at every conceivable thing that moved in the
parade. Attention, it would seem, was solely directed toward the procession.

Marlow continued to weave his way
though the masses en route to the Piedpiper. Within five metres of the transfer
he recognised the familiar figures of Schmitt and Templeton standing close by.
In fear of the exchange being noticed by the rival syndicate, he decided to
continue walking, for this was no time to take unnecessary chances. The transfer
would now have to be attempted a second time, but in doing so the two Traffik
members would need to be disposed of. At an acceptable distance pass the
rendezvous he decided to phone Bradbury.

‘Neville, the exchange never
eventuated with those two Traffik pricks so bloody close! Arrange with Mick to
have them taken to the farm and bring them to the underground tonight when all
this carnival hype has finished. I believe my identity is still intact because
neither Schmitt nor Templeton reacted suspiciously.’

~ * ~

‘Gallagher
and Doyle, please respond!’ called Forbes.

‘Yes, boss,’ replied the
detectives simultaneously.

‘Burke advises that the guy
responsible for the
Molly Bloom
massacre has just been seen walking
along Pitt Street not far from the Covert intersection. Since you’re both on
that side, would you commence your surveillance within a two-block radius for a
person wearing a blue-and-maroon chequered coat. Keep me posted on your
progress.’

The detectives immediately
approached two uniformed police walking their beat along Pitt Street,
instructing them to assist with the search. A careful examination of the area
resulted in someone locating a coat rolled up in a rubbish bin fitting the
description. It was immediately retrieved for possible DNA evidence. With
little knowledge of the assassin’s physical attributions, they knew their task
was now near impossible.

Ironically, Morgan had the gall
to stand nearby and smile inwardly at seeing the confusion the discarded coat
had brought upon the constabulary.

Doyle contemplated for a moment.
One possibility remained and that was to relieve Burke and Martino from their
respective posts and have them relocated to ground level to assist with the
pursuit. After all, these two did lay eyes on Brad Morgan during the boat
catastrophe. Would Forbes agree to this suggestion and allow the elevated sites
to become unmanned?

‘Boss, unfortunately this person
has given us the slip. I can only suggest that Burke and Martino assist us with
identification.’

‘What, and leave the aerial
vantage points unattended?’

‘Well...’

‘No way, and besides, this
criminal has probably long since gone.’

‘But -’

‘What I will offer instead is for
Marsh to join you, since this Henry Lloyd or Brad character he encountered at
the Esplanade Hotel may be the same person,’ added Forbes, overriding his
subordinate’s deliberation.

‘Very well, but the sooner the
better.’

‘He’ll be sent immediately. I’ll
have to cut you short as there’s an incoming call... yes, constable?’

‘Sir, I’m observing some strange
behaviour between Williams and Covert,’ Martino said. ‘I’ve had my binoculars
focused on two men, who appear totally disinterested in watching the parade.
That strikes me as odd since their attention is directed at studying the
spectators and not on the procession.’

‘Describe the pair.’

‘I’m not suggesting either of
these could be the Keeper, as they both appear to be in their late thirties.
One’s around six foot and the other’s about five-eight.’

‘Any further details?’

‘They’re both average build and
dressed in dark-blue, sort of violet-coloured tracksuits. One of them’s holding
a giraffe toy.’

‘Good work, Martino. I’ll send
someone over to check this out.’

~ * ~

I
noticed Paul Marsh a short distance to my left and decided to inform him of my
sighting of the
Molly Bloom
assassin. He was in discussion with three
people but I knew this matter was too important to ignore. Apologising for my
interruption, I quickly briefed him.

He nodded in acknowledgement and
introduced me to a stunning honey-blond called Piochsa and two young men
bearing the names of Hassan and Danny Murdock. The introductions were suddenly
cut with Marsh answering his superior’s call.

‘Yes, understood. I’ll be over
immediately,’ responded the detective. ‘Tom, that was Forbes informing-me about
the very same matter.’

‘As a result of my call to Burke.’

‘Must go now, for duty calls,’ he
said.

Following Paul’s hasty retreat,
the four of us blended into the camouflage of the crowded spectators. If it
hadn’t been for Emily observing me from a short distance away, a chat with the
gorgeous Piochsa wouldn’t have gone astray.

Momentarily alone again, my eyes
were focused on the audience opposite Pitt Street. Where in the hell was that
bastard? Surely some conspicuous and ridiculous-looking coat wouldn’t be too
difficult to find. I could see two uniformed officers pacing the opposite
block, but there was no sign of Forbes going about his business. I could
visualise this bombastic individual directing his workforce from the comfort of
some Eagles Nest watchtower, complete with a personal waiter and concierge. How
I had come to loathe the man following his behaviour and insinuations on that
somewhat taxing day.

To achieve an uninterrupted view
from across Pitt Street was to become a near impossible feat, since the focus
upon any one individual was constantly hindered by the passing cavalcade of
floats and musical bands. That arrogant assassin was proving difficult to find.
My concentration was distracted by a short greeting bellowed out by James
Slattery. Accompanied by his newfound friend Kurt Muller, who surprisingly
could manage a return smile, the two appeared to be enjoying the festivities as
they progressed south along Pitt Street. Looking further afield, I noticed the
sombre characters of Stephen Buchanan and Ben Johnson. Emily and Martha were
standing nearby, thoroughly engrossed in the carnival parade.

Believing the assassin had
disappeared, my thoughts centred on the whereabouts of the Keeper and
Piedpiper. But what was I supposed to be looking for? Burke had said that the
Keeper probably exceeded his fifty years and the Piedpiper could possibly be
some high-profile local figure. It’s like looking for a bloody needle in a
haystack, I thought. Had this so-called document transfer already taken place?
Who did I know in the community that had a high profile? Possibly Ben Johnson
or Stephen Buchanan. Perhaps the pharmacist Simon Walters. I’m getting
desperate, I thought. James Slattery knew a lot of people, but surely he was too
young to be mixed up in this sort of business, and besides, the guy was
basically a decent person despite his unpredictable ways. Certainly there were
other candidates I knew less of, but it seemed ludicrous to consider any of
them. Strong evidence would be required by law before I could go around town
pointing my finger at someone. Understandably, defamation of character would
become an issue in the absence of proof.