Scorpio's Lot

by Ray Smithies

  ‘Don’t think so, because they’d have the syndicate to deal with and that’s not a good thought, detective. What’s known is the night Charlie called into Broadbent’s. Ferret was under instructions to meet someone later, but where and with who I couldn’t quite hear.’

  ‘Yes, that all coincides. Ferret never made it back home that night and were beginning to think he may have met with foul play,’ declared Forbes.

  ‘I didn’t know he didn’t return home, but what makes you suspect there’s foul play?’

  ‘The day Ferret was interviewed at the police station he showed a high degree of nervousness and was constantly looking out my window as if someone from the street was watching,’ Forbes said. ‘If we assume this someone is employed by the syndicate, then we may have good reason for concern. The guy now has simply disappeared.’

  ‘Shit! These interviews with the police are dangerous. You never know where the syndicate is lurkin’!’

  ‘Which is the very reason why we’re conducting this interview here, Danny,’ reassured Marsh.

  ‘I had me suspicions yesterday when Mr Bradbury started askin’ questions about the night I worked back, which was the same night I happened to be here, Paul,’ offered the young lad.

  ‘What type of questions, Danny?’

  ‘What time did I finish work that night? Did Ferret see me leave? Did I notice anyone enter the warehouse? Where did I go after leavin’ work? It was crazy, the amount of questions he threw at me. I’m not stupid. I knew the manager was trying to find out if I was still at work when Ferret and Charlie were talkin’ drug business.’

  ‘Speaking of drug business, we had a search warrant issued and the place was found to be clean,’ said Marsh.

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me because the place is kept in perfect order. Mr Bradbury seemed satisfied with me story, that I’d left at seven-thirty and driven straight home to run an errand for me mum at eight. I even asked me mum to cover me in case they rang asking questions.’

  ‘Very sensible of you,’ replied Forbes, counting the number of ‘me’s’ that Danny repeated.

  ‘By the way,’ Danny said, ‘there’s some other things I’ve heard that you should know about. The one they call the Keeper is arrivin’ on Saturday, but how and at what time I dunno. There was mention again of this incriminating document I talked about before. Apparently it’ll be passed to the Piedpiper durin’ the carnival, but I dunno which day. The syndicate thinks this is the safest way because there’ll be a lot of people around.’

  ‘The old cliché, safety in numbers,’ Marsh said.

  ‘But where and at what stage of the carnival will it be passed, I wonder,’ said Forbes.

  ‘My guess is the exchange will take place during the parade on Saturday,’ Marsh reasoned. ‘I mean it stands to reason that most people will be focused on the floats and bands and not on some incidental transfer happening in the background.’

  ‘That seems quite logical,’ offered the normally indifferent Forbes.

  ‘We’ll need to assess the course the parade will take and work out some vantage points along its route. A visit to speak with the carnival organisers would be in order as well,’ said Marsh.

  ‘So we have some carnival activity to attend to,’ Forbes declared, believing they had exhausted Murdock’s contribution for now.

  The detectives thanked young Danny for his cooperation and left the library.

  ~ * ~

  Brigit O’Neill’s miserable existence continued with its harrowing repetitive routine. With no access to a watch or clock, her only clue to the time was the morning arrival of breakfast. Although well fed and with some adequate reading material to idle away the hours, she was nonetheless puzzled as to why these fiends continued to have her locked away. After all, the lie detector test had been in her favour so why continue with this madness? As she lay thinking about her hopeless situation, she heard a disturbance at close range.

  ‘In this room, you fucking squealer!’ yelled a voice she didn’t recognise.

  A scuffle broke out as this person was forced through the doorway. She heard an exchange of punches, followed by some further choice language.

  ‘You weak bastards only operate in numbers. You haven’t got the guts for one on one!’

  ‘Not when it comes to a rat like you!’

  Further fighting erupted as a result of the last remark. Brigit recognised two of the voices - Charlie and Ferret, whom she knew through the traps. But what was this all about and why this agro against Ferret? It seemed ludicrous given his track record with street sales. He was, after all, their kingpin when it came to those lucrative dollars.

  Not displaying his identity, Charlie yelled from the adjoining room. ‘And how’s our resident bitch today?’

  The provocative remark drew no response from Brigit, who was more concerned with the treatment being meted out to Ferret.

  ‘Cat got your tongue, slut?’ mocked Charlie, whose mentality dictated this was payback time after all his near misses with the chase.

  Ferret was finally forced into his cell sporting a soon-to-be black eye and heavy bruising to the lumbar region. He was generally handy with his fists, but against three burly characters he had no chance of a possible victory. He would now be left in the cell to nurse his injuries and dented pride.

  With his adrenalin still pumping, Charlie decided to venture further and take his chances next door. He waited until his two accomplices had disappeared, retrieved his balaclava and inserted a key into the door of Brigit’s chamber. He found her huddled nervously in the far corner and a conspicuous teardrop was gathering momentum as it ran down the cheek of her sullen face. For Charlie, this was easy game. He made his advances toward the defenceless girl.

  Unable to stand through fear, she drew both knees toward her trembling body, revealing more leg as a result of wearing a tartan kilt skirt.

  ‘You stay away from me, you bastard!’

  ‘And miss an opportunity like this? Never.’

  Brigit was petrified. He crouched down beside her, placing one hand over her mouth, leaving the other free to roam at will. With her eyes bulging in anticipation of what was about to happen, she struggled to remove his enormous hand from her face. Charlie had already commenced touching her ankle, his hand progressively climbing higher and running over the contours of her leg. He continued to explore her leg and the offending hand reached its second objective. The broadening shape of her thigh had now come into play and Charlie’s breathing grew heavier. Brigit’s further attempt to remove Charlie’s hand from her mouth was futile since she lacked the strength of two sound arms to accomplish such a feat. The hindrance of the plastered dressing had created an impossible task.

  In an uncontrollable urge to seduce the captured girl, Charlie’s one-hundred-kilogram frame now laid upon her significantly smaller and fragile body. With total disregard for her dilemma, his arousal level had elevated into a frenzied state in his attempt to discard the two sets of clothing. With his one free hand he savagely ripped Brigit’s blouse apart, exploding the row of buttons. Her firm breasts now lay exposed. To fulfill his intended act he attempted to discard his own trousers. In the excitement and difficulty of the process, he momentarily used his other arm.

  With his hand now removed from her mouth, Brigit immediately let out an ear-piercing scream that would wake the dead. Fondling, it would seem, had now made way for the ultimate prize. Ignoring her desperate yells for help, Charlie was determined to carry out his lustful act. He repositioned his body for the final assault, reminiscent of a praying mantis about to devour its prey.

  A severe blow to the head caught him unawares, rendering him dazed and concussed. As he was dragged away by two hooded accomplices, Brigit was left alone to gather herself. She sobbed uncontrollably, and there was every likelihood the ordeal would leave its permanent mark and related insecurities. With torn clothing, she remained crouched in the corner, in fear of Charlie’s return but grateful that some decency existed amongs
t her abductors. She felt the strong urge to shower and cleanse her body in addition to some comforting female company, if indeed the fairer sex existed within this male-dominated underground. Then she felt the need for Jake beside her, and knowing this was impossible she broke down again in uncontrollable tears. If ever loneliness and despair was cruelly measured in descending levels, this was indeed her lowest moment.

  The sound of the door key being inserted again alerted her attention. She froze, wondering who would enter. Surely not Charlie again. Wary of his intended purpose, she looked upon a shorter man of solid build wearing a balaclava and carrying a first aid box.

  ‘Don’t be alarmed. I’m not here to hurt you. I have some medical supplies in this box and it would be best if you allow me to check for any cuts and abrasions he may have inflicted upon you,’ he said.

  The man cleansed the wounds and applied some gauze dressing where necessary. He was gentle and considerate, apologising for his accomplice’s attack. There was some humanity in this lot after all, she thought. Upon completing the task he told Brigit that a clean set of clothes would be waiting for her following a shower, which was scheduled in half an hour’s time. Appreciative of the man’s help, she would nonetheless retain the physical and mental anguish of today’s ordeal for sometime. Additionally, the arrival of Ferret, her new neighbour, would provide opportunity to break the day from its monotonous routine.

  ~ * ~

  F

  orbes and Marsh entered the offices of the carnival organisers. Displaying their badges, they asked a young and nervously giggling assistant if her manager could attend to some general questions. A bearded man sporting a ponytail and an abundance of jewellery came into view.

  Following introductions, the manager, Russell Harvey, said, ‘Now, how can I help you gentlemen?’

  ‘We would like a word with you in private, if we may,’ said Forbes.

  ‘Certainly, my office would be suitable,’ Harvey replied, gesturing for them to step forward.

  ‘Thank you,’ responded Forbes, taking a seat.

  ‘I hope nothing’s wrong, detective.’

  ‘On the contrary, Mr Harvey. We all look forward to the carnival. Our visit today is of a confidential nature, so our intended topic of conversation must remain within these walls. Do you understand?’

  ‘My lips are sealed.’

  ‘We have it on good authority that the supreme head of a drug organisation known as Scorpio will be visiting Pedley during the carnival. Their syndicate leader, who is called the Keeper, will be arriving on Saturday, but how and at what time is unknown. We are told he intends to meet with his regional head, the Piedpiper, to pass some incriminating document concerning a rival syndicate.’

  ‘The Keeper and his Piedpiper! No prizes for originality there. I assume these are the same people responsible for those recent murders,’ replied Harvey dryly.

  ‘Yes,’ acknowledged Forbes, ignoring the gibe. ‘Our objective is to arrest these people and unearth their southern operation. Unfortunately the identities of the Keeper and Piedpiper are not known. It’s possible a rival syndicate may also be present during the carnival, which at this stage could be considered a burden or a bonus. Again we can’t identify this other organisation.’

  ‘But how can I assist you?’

  ‘Considerably, Mr Harvey. It’s only an assumption, but logic tells us that if a document is to be passed it could happen amongst a crowd of people who invariably will be watching the parade. This, you would think, would be the best diversion since the vast majority of people would take little notice of some exchange happening in the background. On the assumption our hunch is correct, this is where you come into it.’

  ‘In what way?’ enquired the puzzled manager.

  ‘We need to know which route the parade will take, the time it commences and finishes, together with the number of floats, musical bands and whatever other entertainment you have planned,’ explained Forbes. ‘With this information I can arrange to have my men placed at strategic and prime locations to oversee the parade and its spectators.’

  ‘That shouldn’t present a problem,’ acknowledged Harvey, reaching for a rolled-up sheet and four paperweights. He spread the large sheet of paper across a table covering the entire surface. The three men looked down on a detailed street map of Pedley.

  ‘The area marked with the yellow highlighter is the intended route. Commencing in Bridge Street at twelve noon, the parade will turn left into Covert Road and travel down to the town’s main arterial in Pitt Street. A right into Pitt travelling four blocks, then a further right into Baker Street and second left into Vincent Road where the parade concludes,’ informed the carnival manager with an orchestrated flair.

  ‘Seems very straightforward,’ offered Marsh.

  ‘We’ll assess this route for vantage points after our discussion,’ said Forbes.

  ‘At what time would you expect the parade to be finished?’ queried Marsh.

  ‘The procession should take just under an hour, which would make the time approaching one o’clock.’

  ‘What have you got planned if rain persists?’ Forbes asked.

  ‘Unless it’s a downpour, the procession will still go ahead.’

  ‘And what type of parade entertainment are we to expect?’

  ‘The majority of exhibitions will be floats. Additionally, we have a good variety of musicians providing everything from rock and classical through to jazz and blues. The remainder will be made up of marching girls, clowns, mannequins, and of course the crowned Princess of the Carnival,’ he responded.

  ‘How many floats?’

  ‘Forty-seven, since three have withdrawn. Each year we allow a maximum of fifty, otherwise the parade becomes too long. The logistics behind the spectacle are quite challenging when you consider our objective is to provide the public with a nonstop procession.’

  ‘Mr Harvey,’ Forbes said, ‘I can’t think of anything further for the moment. May I have your business card in case I need to contact you?’

  ‘Detective Forbes, this drug organisation you speak of is a concern, considering they are connected to all these recent murders and violence. I have a responsibility to provide a successful carnival, which of course includes safety for the general public. Further, I have a second drug syndicate to possibly contend with and yet I’m instructed our meeting is confidential. With only one day before the carnival starts, you have placed me in a very precarious position. What reassurances can you provide that the carnival will not be subjected to some violent outburst?’

  ‘I can’t, Mr Harvey, other than by providing a higher police presence. I have seventeen officers at my disposal from the local station and this can be boosted by a further six from neighbouring townships.’

  ‘But your men will be randomly positioned and not necessarily at the appropriate location should a problem arise,’ challenged the carnival manager.

  ‘Please understand the situation from our perspective. We do not know the identity of these people, but I assure you my men will be in position with total communication to deal with any problems that may arise. And that, Mr Harvey, is the best I can offer.’

  ‘Very well, detective, but I’m not totally convinced. There’ll be somewhere in the vicinity of twenty thousand people converging on Pedley this weekend and a handful of police officers doesn’t exactly conjure up some comfort zone with me.’

  ‘Mr Harvey, thank you for your input and time today. We’ll see our own way out,’ said Forbes before the manager could muster up some further criticism.

  ~ * ~

  Paul Marsh had sketched a duplicate of Harvey’s parade route, being mindful to include all street names and prominent vantage points. With Forbes now behind the wheel and Marsh navigating, they made the decision to commence their assessment in Bridge Street, given this was the intended start of the procession. Turning into Covert and through to Pitt, both men observed the initial part of the route to be on higher ground, progressively descending as the
y drove along Pitt Street closer to the foreshore. To this point, multiple-storey buildings occupied each passing corner site, providing excellent vantage points to view the parade and spectators. The latter and lower part of the route offered only single-level dwellings, which would prove more difficult from an observation aspect. Forbes had seen enough, deciding to return to the station in readiness for his pre-carnival meeting with the rest of the team.

  Excluding the front desk duty officer, the entire station was assembled to receive their general orders. Forbes commenced his briefing in front of a packed audience.

  ‘Today’s meeting doesn’t focus so much on individuals but with emphasis on our preparation for tomorrow’s carnival. Additionally, there is some breaking news regarding an underground network and an update with respect to Broadbent’s search warrant. I have taken the liberty of including Detective Senior Sergeant Graeme Bailey via a phone link during proceedings.’