Scorpio's Lot

by Ray Smithies

  But the show must go on, thought Carpenter. He decided to try a different approach.

  ‘Brigit, you mentioned something earlier about finding a wrist bracelet in the car park. Could you show me where you found it, please?’

  ‘Of course, I nearly forgot about that,’ she responded as if emerging from a trance.

  ‘Good, then let’s all take a walk outside,’ he beckoned, thinking a change of scenery might be just what everybody needed.

  ‘Will you be returning tonight?’ questioned Tracy.

  ‘No, we’ll collect the personal effects in the morning. Thank you for your time tonight. You may close the club now,’ Carpenter responded.

  The remaining five people proceeded to the car park. Brigit had no hesitation in pointing out the precise spot. Somewhat surprised with her uncompromising judgment, the sergeant questioned her bearings.

  ‘Are you sure it was here?’

  ‘Positive.’

  ‘That’s odd.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Brigit asked.

  ‘Because it’s not in direct line with someone walking to the car park,’ he said with a puzzled expression.

  ‘Oh.’ Brigit was confused about where all this was leading.

  ‘If you were to walk either to or from the club, why would you come all the way over here? It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘There’s a further possibility to consider. They never left by car but on foot. With the bracelet found here it implies they walked to the rear of the premises,’ suggested Martino.

  ‘But that’s absurd, Chris. What would entice someone to do that?’ challenged Carpenter.

  ‘Because I think that brick building over there holds the answer. That’s the very place we discovered the cellar and it was Forbes who claimed it may lead to one of the subterranean passageways. We were to return with some equipment, but with Broadbent blown up it was put on hold.’

  ‘I remember Tom stating that the RSL was a possible site entrance,’ offered Emily, who appeared scared at the mere thought of being below.

  ‘We need to take a look inside this building,’ insisted Carpenter.

  Complying with the sergeant’s instruction, the small group proceeded toward the brick utility structure. An unsecured lock was found to be dangling from a metal handle. On shedding some light into the darkened interior, Martino immediately opened the trapdoor and commenced his descent to the basement. His reaction from below did not surprise the aboveground gathering.

  ‘They’ve used a sledgehammer to find the entrance. Better come down and take a look,’ he yelled back.

  Four people cautiously descended the steep spiral staircase. The sight of the crudely made hole and subterranean entrance had both a dramatic and traumatic affect. For some, it finally put to bed the mythical connotations surrounding its very existence. For Brigit, it brought back bad memories. She simply turned away following a brief glance and then made a passing derogatory remark.

  ‘Looks like the arse-end of the world down there. Anyway, this is not the entrance I was brought to,’ declared Brigit, believing the mere repulsive sight of the network would only open old wounds.

  ‘We need to go down and look for them,’ called Emily unexpectedly.

  ‘Over my dead body!’ Carpenter responded without hesitation.

  ‘And why not?’ she questioned without considering the consequences.

  ‘That would be foolish, Emily. For starters, the place is far too dangerous for you to enter. God knows what might be lurking down there. It would need a professionally armed outfit to confront the likes of Indigo and his misfits.’

  Dismissing Emily’s unrealistic suggestion, Carpenter and Martino peered into the cavity beneath. It looked decidedly uninviting. They studied the opening and muttered to each other for a brief moment. Emily strained to pick up the conversation. Unable to make any sense of their private chitchat, she let her feelings be known.

  ‘This matter demands immediate action, sergeant.’

  ‘That I won’t deny, but it’ll require more than two policemen to tackle the likes of Scorpio and Traffik, in addition to locating eight missing persons. I need to place some phone calls to see what can be arranged tonight. This cannot wait until tomorrow.’

  ‘But surely you’ve got immediate backup at the station?’ Emily persisted.

  ‘If you recall, we were the last two on duty. This situation now warrants city backup and appropriate equipment to deal with the possible consequences. Our local constituencies merely make up the numbers,’ informed Carpenter, who purposely withheld information regarding the activities at Broadbent’s.

  Emily acknowledged that a search, at this very moment, was both foolhardy and overly ambitious. Irrational behaviour was generally not one of Emily’s traits, but given her emotional trauma Carpenter had already excused her direct approach.

  Ensuring the trapdoor was shut and entrance door secured, the small group returned to the car park and stopped just short of reaching Helen’s Saab. Carpenter continued some twenty paces on, stopped and then commenced pressing away at his mobile. Brigit observed the numerous calls; some went unanswered while the remainder drew intense and insistent discussion. A pause and then a return call, she could see Carpenter becoming quite orchestral with his body language and persistent ways. He finally hung up and returned to brief the small gathering.

  ‘I spoke to Whittaker, who will assemble the local force and city backup team. Gallagher got in touch with operations and four SOG troops will arrive tonight by helicopter -’

  ‘Does that mean you will mount a search tonight?’ Emily cut in.

  ‘Yes.’

  ~ * ~

  ‘Bloody hell, why didn’t some bright spark install an escalator,’ groaned Forbes, having ascended around two hundred metres of passageway.

  His men grinned, realising their superior’s physique was not exactly cut out for mountain climbing. It had become a tough haul for all, with periodical rests along the way to regain composure. The three subordinate detectives, who were considerably fitter, recognised the breaks were purposely intended for Alan Forbes as a means to recover his breath.

  The general consensus had already decided it would be futile to explore the depths of the network. For a logistics operation to be carried out efficiently, commonsense explicitly inferred the Scorpio headquarters would have to be located in one of the top six levels and understandably convenient to Broadbent’s.

  ‘Gentlemen, from this moment forth our vigilance is paramount. Recheck your arms for we have reached level six or what you might call the upper basement. Safety in numbers is the best option, so I’ve decided we’ll remain together. It’s anyone’s guess as to the extent of what we’re up against. Remember we’re here to observe, retreat and then mount a full-scale attack when we know the strength or weakness of our enemy.’

  The immediate landing covered an immense area to canvass. Although an unlikely source of activity, it was, nonetheless, important to check the far side from beyond Broadbent s. The maze of passageways to be covered implied a methodical approach was necessary; otherwise repetitive surveillance would soon become apparent. With numerous corridors looking distinctly similar, the officers certainly wanted to avoid this ominous trap. Finally declaring the area all clear they cautiously ascended to level five.

  Almost identical to its predecessor, the perusal of this higher landing was conducted in half the time. Familiarization can be a useful tool thought Forbes as he further decreed the fifth floor as being uneventful. The approach to landing four had heightened the anxiety levels. Tension and expectancy had joined forces to imply the enviable was about to materialise.

  A notable architectural change on this floor greeted the unsuspecting police. Whilst bluestone continued to be the dominant material, the layout was indeed different to that previously observed. Wider passageways made way to galleries and much larger chambers, most of which offered doorways and an occasional window. This level was distinctly unlike any other. With a sudd
en chill in the air and the notable absence of relics and usual paraphernalia, the immediate vicinity seemed to intensify some menacing warning. The fourth floor projected a strange and unwelcome aura, as if an evil presence was lurking within its confines. The crisscrossing of helmet lights seemed to emphasise the eeriness as they danced and bounced off the bluestone passageways.

  The devil’s level, thought Forbes.

  An uncomfortable silence, dissimilar to any preceding floor, only emphasised the unfriendly tone. Gone was the trickle of the ever-present water droplets and scurrying sound of an occasional cellar rat. Forbes wasn’t a superstitious man, but this environment sent a shiver up his spine. They persisted with the surveillance of level four, and while the men half-expected the inevitable, no glimmer of evidence prevailed. Again they would leave a further tier empty-handed.

  Tension continued to mount with their ascendance to the next higher landing. The constabulary was intensely aware that with each subsequent clearance, the proceeding level increased the likelihood of confrontation. Level three became instantly recognisable as a replica of its predecessor. Broad corridors and intersecting smaller side passageways indicated the presence of numerous junctions, at times enticing the constabulary to choose between four or five exit arterials. With guns ready, the cautious approach now necessitated that the detectives advance in pairs and work from either side of the pathway. They sensed a different aura presided over the third floor, for the strange and eerie had been replaced by an inhabited presence.

  As if on cue in the belief they weren’t alone, the first sound of human intervention was detected. The muffled distant noise of a compressor could be heard and its very existence suggested on the same subterranean level. Its direction, located to the far side, was unquestionably near the once-thriving establishment of Broadbent Warehouse. Forbes was astounded this had not been detected on their descent, but further contemplated the machinery was most likely turned off at the time. Presumably the Scorpio southern operation was about to be revealed.

  Like a well-oiled machine, the four pressed forward, resembling some sort of synchronised mechanism. Even Forbes impressed his subordinates with his sudden agile movements and unyielding determination to find these headquarters. With each approaching passageway, the compressor’s unrelenting and repetitive movement grew louder. Corridors had now transformed into broader and more impressive open-style galleries. Chambers, reminiscent from the level below, appeared in their monotonous rows, most complete with doorways and windowsills. Forbes envisaged the rooms served to house prisoners and the storage of drugs. Caution and assessment of what lay ahead would determine their method of assault with the backup team in mind. A hasty and unplanned advance could possibly backfire. Their helmet lights would soon need to be extinguished.

  With Forbes and his men flanked to both sides of an open and rather vulnerable gallery, the rumbling sound of machinery now appeared to be only a short distance away. Unexpectedly a voice was heard from an elevated position. Startled by the command, the four men turned in unison at the direction of the source.

  ‘Lay your weapons on the ground!’ ordered the firm voice from above.

  The reaction was distinctly slow. Shock had momentarily delayed any directive. The four simply stared into the subdued background.

  ‘Now!’ insisted the voice in a more forceful tone.

  They obeyed the man’s instruction. This was no time to take unnecessary risks given the absence of any nearby cover. He held the ascendancy, for his aim protruded from between two bluestone pillars perched above an adjacent chamber. The obscure figure continued.

  ‘There’s a further gun pointed at you immediately to my right. Place both hands on your heads and stand facing the wall.’

  Prior to turning, Forbes caught a glimpse of his adversary as he stepped forward from beyond his stone shield. The man was of stocky build, perhaps around five-seven in height. He wore a balaclava to shield his identity and a set of military-style night-vision goggles were tightly strapped to his head. A second person was momentarily seen standing beside a stone column.

  Forbes conceded he had stuffed up. He had momentarily overlooked any possible threat coming from above. Their light-enhanced helmets had served well from a surveillance perspective, but indirectly the illuminating beams had also advertised their arrival. The men, presumably Scorpio accomplices, appeared professional in their approach. The one who had spoken projected a calm and organised manner. He was quite possibly no fool and not one to take chances with. Opportunity could present itself at some later stage, Forbes hoped.

  Descending a set of steps beside the chamber, the two men advanced toward their row of captives now facing the bluestone wall. With guns in hand, they quickly assessed if further weaponry could be uncovered. Satisfied the four men possessed no additional arms, their mouthpiece commenced his interrogation.

  ‘Identify yourselves.’

  Instinctively it was Alan Forbes who decided to be spokesman. ‘My name is Detective Forbes and I am accompanied by my three officers.’

  Ah ... the constabulary, we are indeed privileged.’

  ‘And who is “we”?’ questioned Forbes.

  ‘All in good time,’ he replied.

  For a short moment the captors paused to evaluate their prisoners, studying each policeman individually before progressing further. Believing they held no pending threat, he recommenced his instructions.

  ‘With hands to remain on your heads, you will now turn right and proceed to walk down the immediate passageway at a steady pace. We’ll be trailing at the rear and if I so much as detect the slightest threat, I won’t hesitate to use this gun,’ ordered the camouflaged man.

  The entourage commenced their march toward the ever-increasing sound of the compressor. The voice from one of the captors could be heard relaying a message on some two-way device. He cleverly spoke in a foreign tongue with the intention of forewarning his accomplices of the police’s pending arrival. Damage from the Broadbent explosion now came into view. The extent of destruction was horrendous and Forbes wondered for a brief moment if there had been casualties or fatalities. The movement of rock to this extent must have ignited some fuel from within the complex. Perhaps a highly potent fluid, he thought.

  Evidence of habitation began to materialise. Numerous boxes were stacked against the gallery wall. Various pieces of equipment and personnel effects were loosely placed in periodical collections. Forbes quickly assessed that the Scorpio syndicate was in the processes of vacating the subterranean network. The blast from above had exposed their southern headquarters and time was quickly running out to retreat and move location.

  Travelling past the corridor housing the compressor, Forbes was wondering where their little expedition would eventually lead. As they zigzagged their way through the bluestone maze, the hooded thug from behind called left or right as they approached each optional route.

  It was widely accepted that Arthur Simpson’s disappearance was underworld related and he had been brought to the subterranean passageways to curb his threat of exposure. It crossed Forbes’ mind whether the poor old bugger was detained within these rows of chambers. He prayed that no harm had come to the man and suddenly feared for his safety given the syndicate’s apparent evacuation. Would he be tolerated or judged to be a liability?

  The party finally reached their intended destination. Two further men, both wearing balaclavas and holding pistols, came forth to inspect the four policemen on arrival. Satisfied they held no further weaponry, the officers were ordered to sit on the ground with hands on their heads. A brief exchange of words followed in a foreign language, stating the first pair would return with the intended device. Forbes and his subordinates then realised the original duo had suddenly become conspicuous by their absence. They’d simply disappeared into thin air, but no doubt would be lurking nearby.

  The area they had been brought to seem to be a gallery of sorts, but in size was around two-thirds of its predecessors. A series of chamb
ers, each accessible by a metal door, ran the full length to one side of the open area. Forbes was intrigued as to what may hibernate from within those eminent stone walls. An occasional flight of steps provided access above the crypts, which served as a short retreat to the upper landing. A dilapidated handrail ran along the edge and supportive bluestone pillars were sandwiched between the ceiling and chamber roofs.

  Finally the pair decided to communicate with their captives.

  ‘I could smell you pricks a level away. You obviously didn’t read the sign saying trespassers would be prosecuted. So, any thoughts on what type of punishment should be carried out?’ taunted the shorter man of the two.

  ‘The Piedpiper, I presume?’ said Forbes.

  The reaction was a devilish laughter that caused the detective’s eyebrows to rise.