by Ray Smithies
The circumstances now begged for a major decision to be made. With the destruction of Broadbent’s came the reality that the underground network was suddenly and extremely vulnerable. The camouflage had been removed and it would be only a matter of time before the police uncovered the entrance below the toilet block.
How long this charade could be maintained was anybody’s guess. The Piedpiper was acutely aware that once the Broadbent site was cleared of debris, the location to the entrance would be swift. Perhaps only days remained before the inevitable.
The mind of the Piedpiper was in express mode. The underground via Broadbent was a closely guarded secret, known only to the select few within Scorpio. It was common knowledge that the local fraternity scoffed at the idea of a subterranean passageway beneath their township, so targeting Broadbent could only mean one thing - the oath of secrecy had been leaked. Convinced a traitor was in their midst, the options nonetheless were limited.
The regional head contemplated the possibilities. Sol could immediately be ruled out, given his unquestionable loyalty and devotion throughout the years. Charlie was a rough nut and thrived on violence, but he too had demonstrated a total commitment to the cause. Mick, his lackey, had served the syndicate for a long time, but always in a minor capacity and was not privy to the inner sanctum. Excluding the occasional loan of one of Marlow’s bodyguards and Charlie’s young brigade of street dealers, only two further possibilities remained. Perhaps Brigit O’Neill sought revenge for her recent kidnapping. But this seemed ludicrous, given her limited knowledge of Scorpio and the mere fact that sabotage did not sit well with her character. The one remaining person was the newcomer Gino Palmero. Not a great deal was known about this individual, but suspicion could not be pointed at Gino on mere instinct alone. An immediate phone call to Marcus Powell would clear up any doubts. Additionally, the matter concerning backup would need to be discussed.
‘Marcus, grave news I’m afraid.’
‘Yes, I’ve heard. The media’s gone berserk with the coverage. We’re sad to hear about the loss of Neville and his crew. They were all good men,’ acknowledged Powell.
‘As hard as it is I have to put feelings to one side, for we have three massive issues to deal with.’
‘Three?’
‘Yes, the first being the destruction of Broadbent Warehouse and the high probability of the passageway being discovered in the very near future,’ declared the Piedpiper.
‘How long do you have?’
‘The clearance of debris will take time, so possibly within the next few days would be my guess, Marcus.’
‘You’re left with no choice but to clear the premises,’ ordered Powell.
‘That’s to be expected, but two issues then arise.’
‘Oh?’
‘How much stock to relocate and what to do with our resident captive Arthur Simpson.’
‘Um ... relocate as much stock as you can over the next two nights and then get out. Do what you wish with your prisoner,’ Powell responded with a callous overtone.
‘Very well, Marcus.’
‘Now what’s this second major issue you speak of?’
‘To put it bluntly, we have a traitor in our midst.’
‘And what makes you say that?’
‘Only the inner sanctum of the southern operation has knowledge of the entrance to these passageways -’
‘Yes, I’m aware of that,’ interrupted Marcus Powell.
‘So someone has spilled the beans and betrayed us. I’ve assessed my remaining staff and cannot single out any one individual, which leads me to ask about Gino Palmero.’
‘What are you implying?’
‘I need to know more about this person, Marcus,’
‘You’re barking up the wrong tree here, Piedpiper. How dare you make accusations against Palmero!’
‘Steady on, I’m not making accusations. On the contrary, I’m trying to clear his name. At the end of the day we have an informant amongst us and it is my duty and responsibility to find out who this person is.’
‘Gino Palmero was employed by a Mafia organisation having similar connections and undertakings to that of Scorpio. Around four years ago Victor Marlow visited their operation in Catania, Sicily, where an arrangement was made between the two syndicates to do an exchange. Victor would send across one of his best men in exchange for Palmero. It was agreed that both organisations would benefit from the trade by inheriting some fresh and innovative new ideas.’
‘Were both men willing to accept the exchange?’ asked the Piedpiper.
‘Most certainly. Palmero was well educated and spoke fluent English and always had a passion to visit our country. There was no hesitation on the Italian’s behalf, he simply grabbed at the opportunity to broaden his experience,’ replied Powell.
‘And what was the agreed exchange period?’
‘The only stipulation was both men had to serve a minimum of three years, at which time they were free to stay on or return to their former employer. Palmero chose to stay on and hasn’t looked back since. Victor taught him the ropes and introduced Gino to some key people in the industry. Within the space of two years Scorpio put Palmero in charge of special projects, a reward for his exceptional talent and loyalty.’
‘Then why would a man of his calibre be sent to assist us?’ questioned the Piedpiper, who was both puzzled and impressed with the man’s credentials.
‘It was Gino’s call when Victor raised the matter amongst a select few. Claims he missed the country life and decided a short break and change of scenery was just what the doctor ordered.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘Hopefully you will now appreciate why Palmero is above suspicion. I personally would vouch for his loyalty and honour. Your informant can only come from within Pedley itself,’ insisted Powell.
‘Thank you, Marcus, for being straight to the point.’
‘I judge the betrayer to be a bigger threat than Traffik itself. Find this person and deal with it swiftly and keep me posted on the matter, in addition to the underground problem. In the meantime consider laying a trap for our informant, whoever that might be.’
‘Yes, Marcus.’ The Piedpiper wondered what possible trap could be devised to catch the traitor.
‘And what’s this third issue?’
‘I need backup to deal with Indigo’s threat and to have the numbers to mount a counterattack. We need to settle the score and wipe out his band of cutthroats once and for all.’
‘I won’t deny that revenge is sweet, but address your major problem initially. The survival of the southern operation is first and foremost. The cops will infiltrate the underground on clearing the Broadbent site, so you’ll need to relocate as much stock as possible over the next two days. Those reserves reflect a great deal of money and cannot be simply ignored or left too late to transfer. My suggestion in the interim would be the farm. It’s far enough removed to draw attention. Once you have accomplished this and vacated the subterranean, we’ll then destroy Traffik in one swift assault,’ insisted Powell.
‘Very well, Marcus. Allow me three days and then I’ll want my backup.’
~ * ~
The second wave of the curiosity show had gathered at both ends of Covert Road. Onlookers, possibly totaling two hundred plus, simply stood and stared at the aftermath. Their presence aggravated Forbes into believing they had nothing better to do with their lives. Why do people look on tragedy in their spare time? he thought angrily. Was there some degree of satisfaction to be gained from all this? Bloody inquisitive fools, he thought. He knew these were the types that thrived on gossip, who generally exaggerated issues to colour up the subject at hand. In this instance no amount of misrepresentation could justify the aftermath. This was undoubtedly the worst exploitation of human slaughter and suffering that Forbes had encountered throughout his working career.
As forensics went about their business, Forbes simply stood in the middle of Covert Road and stared around at the terrible waste
of human life. Innocent lives, some too young to even understand the implications of explosives. It touched Forbes deeply, particularly the sight of a little girl whose partially decapitated body was momentarily uncovered by forensics. She can’t be any more than five or six, thought the detective. How could any sane person involve children, let alone the rest of these poor souls? He felt distinctly sickened and dispirited at the sheer scale of the tragedy.
The media now outnumbered essential services. Recalling a press conference he had held at the Pedley Town Hall, Forbes began to recognise a number of reporters from that uneventful day. The conspicuous TLN Television mobile van had set up shop using the devastated Broadbent site as a backdrop. Rachael McGrath was preparing her last-minute notes in time for the one o’clock cross. The two city networks in GPT and Global Network had begun broadcasting live to the nation. Their intention was to maintain coverage throughout the day, interrupting the regular scheduled programs with progressive newsbreaks.
Ashley Collins was in his element, believing the local fraternity had jurisdiction rights over the city tabloids. His perception couldn’t be further from the truth. No one press outlet could claim exclusive rights to this catastrophe. Both Geoffrey Hunter representing the Kingston Herald and Jessica Thompson from the Princely Gazette had seized the opportunity to interview Gallagher and Martino, who were waiting for their superior’s return from Stamford’s Tyres. In the world of journalism when a case of this magnitude was up for grabs, each reporter invariably sought their information in the quickest and most productive way. The police’s appraisal was always a prized scalp.
On his return to war-torn Covert roadway, Forbes was livid to see two of his men in consultation with a couple of nosey reporters. He was about to express his disproval when a most astonishing thing occurred.
From the partial collapse of Henderson’s furniture store, a young girl of around seven suddenly emerged. Her once spotless white tunic had been transformed into a mixture of dust and bloodstained attire. She wore no expression other than her outstretched arms that begged attention. The extent of her injuries was unknown as she stood in front of the store looking around at her audience. She had caught everybody by surprise. The television crews and reporters suddenly focused their cameras in her direction.
At that very moment the sudden emergence of this little girl epitomised the shocking aftermath of this tragic day. Her very presence emphasised the human suffering that was on public display for all to see. Presumably half-buried in debris, she had somehow freed herself after a three-hour struggle. No doubt accompanied into the store with a parent, the detective could only contemplate the furniture store fatality was that of her mother.
The young girl took a further step forward, her head constantly moving, which gave the impression she was looking for someone amongst the crowd. So stunned were the police and bystanders, everyone momentarily froze in silent observation. The girl looked a mess with her hair and body encased in a powder-like dust. She continued forward with outstretched arms. The sight of this small child amidst the unfolding drama struck deep into Forbes. Why did the young and innocent have to suffer as well?
So intense was the media focus that Forbes realised it could have a further detrimental effect. He rushed to the aid of the little girl. Some cries could be heard coming from the women standing nearby. The scene was both disturbing and emotional, in addition to the relief of knowing a young life had been spared. When he reached her side the child flung her arms tightly around his waist. He didn’t understand how she could have been overlooked when the search party conducted their earlier surveillance.
‘I am a policeman. What is your name, child?’ enquired the detective quietly.
‘April Sullivan,’ she replied. Her face was still void of expression. A deep laceration was noticeable on the right cheek. She appeared to have no fractures, but was obviously still in a state of shock.
‘Where’s my mummy?’ she asked in a frightened tone.
‘We’ll look for her shortly, but first we need to have a doctor examine you.’
Forbes carried the girl to a police car. He instructed his team to continue with their delegated work and said he would personally take the young girl to hospital and then return. Forbes’ immediate priority was to have young April Sullivan checked out by the medical staff.
~ * ~
‘The cops have set up checkpoints on all roads leaving Pedley,’ declared the Traffik thug who had just returned from an errand up town.
‘Doesn’t surprise me, Martin,’ Indigo replied.
‘Of course, not after all that bloody mess!’ said another of his lackeys.
‘Would you shut the fuck up, Dave, and let me think?’ snapped his boss, unable to tolerate the bleeding obvious being rammed down his throat. He continued after a moment of contemplation. ‘It makes no difference and it’s all the more reason to lay low and then strike to eliminate the Piedpiper.’
‘But we can’t just rely on the Broadbent entrance. I mean the cops will have that roped off and manned for days,’ claimed a further sidekick called Larry.
‘And we don’t even know the identity of this Piedpiper fellow!’ added Dave with one of his irritating jibes.
‘And I won’t leave until their leader is removed!’ fumed the defiant Indigo.
The normally quiet but constructive Ivan finally intervened above the bickering. He was the oldest and possibly the smartest of the five, despite taking orders from the often-irrational Indigo. His word generally demanded respect.
‘Stop with this bullshit and look at what we already know. The informant has already told us that three entrances exist. Although he confesses to not knowing the whereabouts of these passageways, I suggest we get him on the phone and push the point a bit harder. There always exists an alternative approach to bring the same result.’
‘I don’t understand,’ confessed Indigo.
‘Let me speak to him and I’ll show you what I mean. Have you got his number?’ asked Ivan in a quiet but influential manner.
Indigo hit the memory key and passed his mobile. The dial tone ceased and was replaced with the voice of the informant.
‘Ivan speaking. Is it safe to talk?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s reasonable to assume the underground entrance via Broadbent is off limits for a number of days.’
‘I would say so.’
‘We’re not content in leaving the Broadbent site to chance, so understandably we need to explore further possibilities. Do you comprehend?’ Ivan said persuasively.
‘Of course.’
‘You previously spoke of two further passageways. Can you name them?’ pressed Ivan.
‘As I’ve said before I don’t know, other than being at separate locations and beneath Pedley,’ reiterated the informant.
‘If you don’t know, who does?’
‘With the elimination of Neville Bradbury, only four people now.’
‘Can you possibly think of anyone outside Scorpio who could have knowledge of the underground?’ persisted Ivan.
‘Um ... the only other person who comes to mind is the guy who owns the local caravan park.’
‘And his name?’
‘Tom Harrison.’
‘What do you know about this Mr Harrison?’
‘Scorpio has an elderly friend of his held captive in the underground. Apparently he’s been made to talk which has uncovered some truth behind Tom Harrison.’
‘Go on.’
‘He’s been meddling with the syndicate for some time now and generally making a nuisance of himself,’ divulged the informant.
‘In what way?’
‘Initially it was the Piedpiper’s intention to kidnap a young dealer by the name of Brigit O’Neil because she may have known too much for her own good and could’ve turned informant with the authorities. That’s when Tom Harrison stepped in to rescue her, which led to Scorpio chasing the couple around the countryside. A forced statement from his captive friend has r
evealed that Harrison’s been investigating the subterranean passageways with a passion. He’s even gone to the length of speaking with some influential people in the city. It’s highly likely he knows of the exact locations and is on the verge of discovering one of the entrances.’