Scorpio's Lot

by Ray Smithies

  The phone went dead. Charlie looked pale.

  ‘You okay?’ asked Mick.

  ‘Failure and it’s our heads!’ stated Charlie and then proceeded to inform his accomplice of the Piedpiper’s instructions. ‘So they’re the orders. We’ll contact Morgan shortly and work out a plan. For Christ’s sake, Mick, loosen up a bit. Go and get a drink or something.’

  ~ * ~

  F

  orbes had summoned the troops to discuss the activities “ of the past twenty-four hours. He anticipated a lengthy meeting, given that four separate incidents should now provide the case with some much-needed headway. His instructions to those outside his office were clear and precise - no interruptions permitted and certainly no incoming calls unless considered necessary. He intended to raise some directives regardless how long it would take and therefore this meeting was to be conducted with no outside interference. To compensate in the absence of Burke and Martino, Forbes invited Senior Sergeant Ross Whittaker, Sergeant Neil Carpenter and Constable Peter Jennings to sit in.

  He commenced his opening address. ‘Be prepared for a long session, for we have a lot of ground to cover in light of what’s come to hand. The checklist for today will include Detective Marsh and his report regarding a visit to Berkley Fun Parlour, a partial briefing concerning Peterswood, Senior Sergeant Whittaker witnessing an unexpected rendezvous in Bridge Street and, surprise surprise, my own observations over breakfast this morning. We’ll discuss each matter at length and then devise some action plans that will need to be carried out.’

  Forbes paused to take a mouthful of coffee. ‘But first I want to draw your attention to the front-page article in today’s Pedley Advertiser. I took the liberty of approaching the editor yesterday, explaining the need to educate the local community about this drug syndicate and of the lethal carnage they have created and can create. Suffice to say the publicity alone may prompt someone to come forward and assist us.’

  Reaching for the morning edition, Forbes unfolded the newspaper on his desk for the men to read. The headline read: WHO IS THE PIEDPIPER OF PEDLEY?

  Ashley Collins, the journalist responsible for the article, had painstakingly gone to great length in describing this drug leader as ruthless, corrupt and a butcher who was already responsible for three known murders.

  ‘The headline certainly can’t hurt since we need every bit of help to flush this lot out,’ Carpenter said.

  ‘Exactly my point,’ emphasised Forbes.

  ‘I must say this Ashley Collins has got some guts for being so explicit,’ said Marsh.

  ‘Okay, that’s enough of the newspaper article for now. What I intend to cover next is my own observation at the La Porta’s Cafe this morning. This incident I witnessed over breakfast demands further investigation. A man in his mid-forties sat at the next table and placed a mobile call while he waited for his breakfast to arrive. He called himself Ben Johnson. Ever heard of this name, Ross?’ asked Forbes, thinking that if anyone knew the locals it was Ross Whittaker.

  ‘Yes, he’s the Esplanade Hotel publican.’

  ‘That’s interesting. Would you have any idea who this Stephen was that he was on the phone to?’

  ‘There are a number of Stephens I can think of. What was the topic of conversation?’ queried Whittaker.

  ‘He questioned whether a business matter was finalised, then asked when he was returning because there was a need to meet him at a bank, or perhaps he said “at your bank”. After that the line went dead due to a poor signal.’

  ‘Did he say “a bank” or “your bank”?’ Whittaker asked.

  Forbes scratched his head, trying to recall the conversation. ‘The more I think about it, I’m sure he said “your bank”.’

  ‘Then this person can only be Stephen Buchanan, a local bank manager,’ Whittaker said.

  ‘Excellent. Now comes the interesting bit. Stephen Buchanan was in Peterswood at the time of the phone call. What do you make of that?’

  Whittaker frowned. ‘An interesting coincidence. I wonder what he was doing in that neck of the woods.’

  ‘That’s what we need to find out. Marsh and I will address this issue and interview these two shortly. Ross, how well do you know this banker and publican?’

  ‘Well, for starters both men are highly respected in town,’ Whittaker said. ‘Stephen Buchanan was a successful boxer in his earlier years, having won a few titles at the time. The guy’s probably about forty-seven now. He came to Pedley around eight years ago to take up the position of manager. He has a bit of a reputation for having a temper and is considered very shrewd in his business dealings.’

  ‘And what about this Ben Johnson, the one that sat at the next table?’

  ‘This publican gives generously to a number of local organisations and has been very clever in accumulating a lot of property when prices are conveniently low. He reputedly has a small band of hoodlums to take care of things when there’s trouble at the hotel. Make no mistake, these are two guys you wouldn’t want to cross.’

  ‘Thanks, Ross. We need to find out more about these two high-profile men. With your local knowledge, Neil, I’ll leave this task for you to investigate,’ said Forbes.

  ‘Will do,’ Carpenter said.

  ‘We’ll now turn our attention to this morning’s Bridge Street rendezvous. Would you please describe what you witnessed, Ross.’

  ‘I happened to be waiting for the Regency to open their doors regarding the follow-up burglary enquiry when I observed a meeting between James Slattery and Kurt Muller on the opposite footpath. Is anyone aware that these two know each other?’

  A negative response prompted Whittaker to continue. ‘What made this little rendezvous intriguing was the body language during their meeting. I could only surmise they’ve been friends for some time. Following a two or three minute discussion I then observed Slattery passing a brown paper package to Muller.’

  ‘How big a package?’ Carpenter enquired.

  ‘About the size of a shoebox. Slattery appeared a little nervous when handing the parcel over and -’

  ‘In what way?’ interrupted Forbes.

  ‘He kept looking around, giving the impression he didn’t want anyone to see the transfer.’

  ‘Which suggests the contents may be questionable.’

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘Did you approach the pair at all?’ asked Marsh.

  Whittaker gave the detective a steely look. ‘No, Paul, they’d parted company before I could take any action.’

  Forbes intervened, believing his subordinate could’ve been a bit more tactful. ‘Neil, I want you and Paul to check this out. Interview both men and establish how they came to know each other, what was discussed and above all, find out what that package contained.’

  ‘Certainly,’ Carpenter said.

  ‘We now move on to Paul’s report covering the events of last night at the Berkley Fun Parlour.’

  Acknowledging his superior’s gesture to take central stage, Marsh gathered his notes and began his briefing. ‘I made my second contact with Danny Murdock last night, which proved to be useful. Through Danny I was introduced to two young men called Travis Ferguson and Hassan, who the locals refer to as Ferret and the Artful Dodger. According to Danny these guys have some powerful connections within the drug trade. Not surprisingly they denied having inside knowledge of the operation and who the ring leader is, claiming they’re only the little guys working the streets where supply is provided via an anonymous source

  Forbes interrupted. ‘I find that difficult to believe.’

  ‘That may be so, but I thought what they told me seemed feasible.’

  ‘Oh, how so?’ challenged Forbes.

  ‘Well, they volunteered some information which appears to make a lot of sense. Let me explain. Both Ferguson and Hassan spoke of the Piedpiper, who they claim lives in Pedley and whose identity is only known to those in the drug hierarchy. They also confirmed this person is the southern regional head of the organisation
-’

  ‘Yes, we already know that.’

  ‘According to their source they believe he’s a well-known and respected citizen within the community,’ continued Marsh, unruffled by his superior’s impatience.

  ‘Um ... intriguing observation.’

  ‘Ferguson, otherwise known as the Ferret, made an interesting evaluation about our drug lord. He’s often wondered about the identity of the Piedpiper and could only come to one conclusion. If his source is correct and the person is well known within the community, then we need look no further than someone in local government or business that could fulfill such a high-profile position.’

  ‘That’s a reasonable assessment.’

  ‘Keep in mind this is just one person’s opinion, but nonetheless it’s an interesting perspective.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Yes, both Ferret and Danny Murdock happen to be fellow employees at some place called Broadbent -’

  Seeing the city detectives’ puzzled expressions, it was Whittaker who interrupted this time. ‘It’s a local warehouse depot supplying food and beverages to the supermarkets and hospitality industry. It’s situated in Covert Road, which intersects with the main shopping street. Broadbent has been around for a number of years and seems to have a respectable name in town.’

  ‘It may be nothing but I believe they’re at least worth checking out,’ said Marsh. ‘According to Danny, this guy Ferret has an endless supply of dope, so where in the hell does his contact fit into the scheme of things? Their place of employment is at least a starting point.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Forbes. ‘We’ll take a look at the premises today.’

  Marsh concluded his briefing and returned to his seat.

  Forbes continued. ‘We’ll progress to our next subject regarding the matter at Peterswood. We are all aware that Burke and Martino departed Pedley late yesterday afternoon. The storm that hit last night had a catastrophic, widespread effect in the Ashworth region. The bureau reports extensive flooding in the low-lying communities and that all major roads east of Pedley have been cut. Please be reminded that communication with our two officers ceased following their last contact at around eight last night. Ross and I agree this occurrence has most likely been attributed to the radio and phone towers cutting out. What we do know from our last communication is that they had travelled through Ashworth en route to Peterswood. This part of the country is on high ground and therefore removed from possible flooding.’

  Whitaker took over and elaborated further. ‘Feedback indicates our men should be quite safe, providing they maintain their present elevation. Knowing Burke, he’ll feel duty-bound to return with Brigit O’Neill at the earliest opportunity. My sources advise that the one possible return route is via the cargo vessel Molly Bloom, which departs Seddon one o’clock daily. Assuming this to be their return ticket, we’re anticipating Burke and Martino will try to make contact once aboard.’

  ‘But wouldn’t the floods prevent their arrival at Seddon?’

  ‘No, on the contrary. Their route remains unaffected because the Peterswood road to Ashworth and through to Seddon is on high ground.’

  Forbes again took the floor. ‘Our one concern is the possibility of the syndicate flexing their muscles at Peterswood, in which case we have a further problem to deal with. However, we’re treating this with a degree of scepticism at this stage as there’s no proof to suggest otherwise. The Molly Bloom docks at four and if they’re not onboard then we’ll mount a full-scale search party.’

  ‘All I can say is, you better pray they haven’t met with foul play,’ stated Carpenter with a thoughtless reaction.

  Forbes, in particular, didn’t take kindly to the cynical remark. ‘Sergeant, again I will reiterate. We lack the evidence to request such a demand. There is the likelihood our men will arrive in Pedley around two hours from now, as opposed to sending a search and rescue squad, an Air Wing crew and God knows what else simply based on some perception.’

  Forbes rose from his chair and walked across to the whiteboard, erasing his previous notes. Very much the type of person to display his theories, Forbes covered almost the entire surface with his trusty black marker. The list of directives and possible suspects drew immediate challenge from his subordinates. It was Marsh who sought the first answer.

  ‘I’m surprised you’ve included Tom Harrison,’ he said. ‘Why is he under investigation?’

  ‘Because of his evasive behaviour. We also need to establish what motive lurks behind his involvement with Brigit.’

  ‘Being his niece should be sufficient motive,’ offered an astonished Marsh.

  ‘And why Hamish O’Connor?’ asked an equally confused Carpenter.

  ‘We can’t afford to leave any stone unturned,’ replied an unperturbed Forbes.

  ‘Do you intend checking the Broadbent premises with a search warrant?’ asked Carpenter.

  ‘Not initially. We need good reason to have a legal order granted. What I’m suggesting is simply to check out the premises, their employees and no more. Chances are nothing will come of it, but like I said earlier, we must focus on all probabilities. Carpenter, you can check out Broadbent this afternoon.’

  ‘Will do.’

  ‘Any more questions?’

  With no further input Forbes drew the meeting to a close. Pleased with these new developments and the avenues of investigation that now lay before him, he reiterated with each team member their specific duties.

  ~ * ~

  A

  h, were finally on our way,’ I said, finishing my cappuccino.

  ‘Yes, three hours to go. I wonder what will become of me once the police at Pedley have me in their custody,’ replied a pessimistic Brigit.

  ‘I think you’re overreacting. I’m sure Forbes will have your best interests at heart,’ said Darren.

  ‘One thing at a time, Brigit. Just enjoy the trip for now,’ I suggested, and then added as an afterthought, ‘What say we take a walk around the deck?’

  ‘Yes, why not? It might be interesting looking around “the old girl”, as you call her.’

  ‘You two go for it. Chris and I will rest for a while, and besides, I need to see the captain about using his communication,’ Burke said.

  Contrary to what Hamish had told us, the Molly Bloom was at near capacity, with a number of passengers having already taken up advantage points to enjoy the coastal scenery from starboard. A row of deck chairs on the upper level had proven popular with many, and excited children were now knocking down skittles combined with the sound of squeals and laughter as they played. Looking around, I thought the numbers on board had surpassed Hamish’s estimation of thirty. Starboard side alone must have exceeded this limit, let alone those on portside and indeed the crew itself. Perhaps the weather today and last night’s storm had contributed to this excessive number, for a cloudless blue sky on a winter’s afternoon would certainly encourage people to be outdoors.

  We strolled past a number of chute-mounted orange lifebuoys, each with its self-igniting light on starboard wing. This old boat was indeed full of surprises, with an array of some updated accessories. Crossing to portside, our attention was drawn to three lifeboats suspended from radial davits swaying in the gentle sea breeze.

  ‘Tom, what’s that machine beside the lifeboats used for?’ asked Brigit-

  ‘That’s a winch. It’s used for raising and lowering the lifeboats.’

  ‘Oh, and why these holes below the railing?’

  ‘They’re called mooring pipes. They can be either oval or circular and are fitted into the plating of the bulwarks.’

  ‘And what’s their purpose?’

  ‘My, you are the inquisitive one! Well, they assist the permanent anchor when the chains are laid down if the boat’s moored for a period of time. The mooring pipes provide a smooth surface through which ropes or chains can be guided.’

  ‘How come you know so much?’

  ‘I don’t. What you’ve asked is just general know
ledge.’

  ‘Well, maybe for a guy it is. What about the speed? How fast are we going?’

  ‘Brigit, give it a rest. We’re travelling at around ten knots, which equates to nearly twenty kilometers per hour,’ I responded, feeling like a marine tutor. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘No, not for the moment. Thank you, Tom. Maybe later.’ Brigit seemed amused at my lack of patience.

  We continued our walk in silence.

  ‘Brigit, I’ve decided to take a look at the interior of the wheelhouse if you want to join me,’ I said, in an attempt to make up for being so short with her.