by Ray Smithies
‘Yes!’ he repeated.
‘Good. With a bit of earlier cooperation you could’ve saved yourself the suffering.’
Indigo was in his element for he now had Arthur’s testimony in addition to an admission from the Scorpio accomplice. One further task remained and that was to question the man himself.
‘How I’ve longed for this moment, Mr Hanna. Please confirm to your audience that you are indeed the Piedpiper.’
A pause of uncomfortable silence followed.
‘I can’t hear you!’ taunted Indigo, hell-bent in getting some mileage before the inevitable.
‘That I am!’ The man showed no emotion.
‘Thank you. Have you any idea of the trouble Scorpio has caused me?’ Indigo continued, leering at his captive.
No reaction was forthcoming.
Indigo continued with his melodramatics. ‘Then let me refresh your memory. For starters, your very public crucifixion of two men who displayed no prior threat. Handing personal details to the cops, which led to the arrest of some of my key people. And throw in the near destruction you have caused my organisation. You have been unrelenting in your pursuit to put me out of business, but it’s your sinister methods that I cannot forgive. What have you got to say for yourself?’
‘I’ve never been directly responsible for any deaths,’ he replied.
‘Oh, we’re redirecting the blame?’
‘Not at all. On the contrary, you know exactly where the blame lies.’
‘I do? Then please enlighten me as to who the culprit is.’
‘The Keeper directed those orders who you have since eliminated.’
‘You are the regional head who must accept responsibility, so don’t play politics with me, you gutless bastard!’ fumed the Traffik leader, unimpressed with this attempt to divert the blame.
Indigo glared at his sworn enemy. He threw an evil eye toward the remaining Scorpio pair and then briefly glanced around at the constabulary and committee members giving the impression he was checking to make sure all were present and accounted for. He pondered for a couple of minutes, no doubt contemplating his next move. Lou Hanna continued to stand still. He maintained an unemotional presence, not once expressing any fear of his adversary. His head was marginally tilted forward and not once did he raise his eyes to look directly at Martha, or myself for that matter. My initial shock had given way to anger when thinking back about the unrelenting chase, the violent attack at Peterswood, the Molly Bloom atrocity, the kidnapping of Brigit and Arthur, in addition to threats and assaults in my own living room.
Despite the terrible infliction that Indigo had brought on Pedley, this character I once knew as Sam was equally to blame with his history of drug-dealing and bloodshed. I could only conclude that I was probably looking at the two most evil individuals I’d had the misfortune to lay eyes on. I looked around at certain people within this gathering and could see a contrast of reactions.
Forbes simply stared ahead with a constant frown and appeared deep in thought. Anger, not surprisingly, was etched on the faces of the remaining policemen. Martha Kellett, who was standing near, continued to sob uncontrollably and I could detect a tear on Helen’s cheek. The rest of the committee, including Burke, all appeared to be in a preoccupied state of mind, perhaps still in shock with the unfolding drama. I also knew Emily would be deeply distressed after taking Sam into her confidence.
The Traffik leader awoke from his meditation and with it came a fury of abuse and despicable acts of torture that he intended to demonstrate. We were supposedly to become his witnesses in viewing a slow and painful death. I had already seen enough punishment to last me a lifetime, let alone some grotesque display of cruelty that would leave us all feeling quite sick.
‘Our Piedpiper is about to be reduced to an object begging for mercy with each incision of my blade. Before I’m finished with this jerk, he’ll be pleading to be put out of his misery!’ said Indigo savagely.
~ * ~
W
ith their arrival at the demolished Broadbent site, Gallagher instructed his men to enter the confines below and to wait on reaching the first platform. He would descend last to ensure he had a correct head count. As the squad filed passed and progressively disappeared below, he cast an eye around the site and was relieved to see their presence hadn’t attracted an early-morning audience. A police barrier line and around-the-clock security remained evident to discourage the idle curious. Leading to the initial landing, a makeshift timber wall had been erected to ensure safe entry and exit. With twenty-three persons at his disposal, Gallagher felt the team resembled a small army rather than a collection of assorted constabulary.
They had been briefed to encourage sign language given the acoustics that bluestone would accentuate in an underground environment. Verbal communication would not be tolerated unless considered mandatory. With the last of the troops descending on the platform, the task force was now assembled to commence their rescue. Two abreast, the constabulary followed the SOG unit, forever winding, spiraling and descending the passageways.
A swift surveillance of the first two levels drew zero occupancy. The aid of heat-sensing and enhanced night-vision equipment served well to speed up the processes. Carefully, but deliberately, they descended the steps in pairs to an awaiting third floor. Like their predecessors they unexpectedly detected the sound of a distant generator. On the assumption this laborious and mechanical noise was an indication of enemy headquarters; their objective had been reached far quicker than what Gallagher had anticipated.
The four SOG troopers complete with night-vision goggles and an array of arsenal went ahead and would report back their positions and observations. In terms of pinpointing the precise location, the task at hand was relatively easy. A loud and aggressive voice could be heard in the distance, perhaps some two intersecting corridors beyond the compressor. Accusations and threats dominated proceedings.
Approaching the near circular gallery, no visual contact of its inhabitants could yet be detected. On the outer fringes of the auditorium the troopers commenced to separate, each manning a post of around four equal distances until the circle was complete. All immediate communication was carried out by an elaborate system of hand signals.
Three of the troopers then commenced to crawl on the chamber roofs, their objective being to reach the railing undetected and analyse the disturbance below. The sudden presence of a dead body lying sprawled across the rooftop was observed by one of the men. The fourth trooper remained patiently in the background. His assignment was to retrieve the lowdown for the purpose of returning and informing the rescue task force. Three faces cautiously peered beyond the railing, the subdued lighting camouflaging their very existence. They counted twenty-one heads congregated beneath, two of which appeared deceased.
The threat derived from four people only, most of who were assembled in proximity to each other. From the SOG unit’s perspective, the position of firearms from below did not present a major challenge. In anticipation that a forthcoming shootout may eventuate, these targets were both vulnerable and in short range. The challenge would heighten if their captives suddenly became a means for protection. Assessing the hostages, the troopers were slightly puzzled with the segregation of three groups, made up two, four and seven persons respectively. A further individual, an elderly man, stood apart, looking bewildered by the unfolding drama. The information was relayed back to their colleague who in turn would now alert the awaiting task force. The three troopers would maintain their positions until backup arrived.
They had been gone for around seven minutes when suddenly the reappearance of one of the men informed Gallagher of the whereabouts of Scorpio’s base. They had counted nineteen heads congregated in a gallery some hundred metres directly ahead. Two-way communications would be out of the question and a quiet approach was absolutely mandatory. Having been trained to deal in similar situations, it was considered customary that the four troopers would dictate proceedings from the edge of th
e gallery. Gallagher would intervene following their control. They continued forward with all mobile lighting switched off.
Around forty metres from the target, the disturbing sound of someone ranting and raving could be heard above the compressor. The voice appeared agitated, if not threatening, and Gallagher approached in hope that it wasn’t the constabulary being harassed. The edge of the gallery had now come into view and he could see two troopers already poised and ready.
Creeping forward, his men commenced the clockwise task of taking up their posts until the gallery was surrounded. Although silence was mandatory, they had the advantage of some idiot below drowning out any possible noise. Gallagher then observed a series of hand signals being performed by the SOG unit. With everyone in position they were now ready to declare their presence. In one slick maneuver the elite team further signaled to each other and immediately went into action.
‘Drop everything, you are surrounded!’ yelled the head trooper.
Predictably the reaction from below was complete astonishment. Foolishly, two of the Traffik thugs turned their guns on the trespassers. There was an exchange of fire. Martin and Dave stood no chance with the shower of bullets being blasted from above. Both men were killed instantly. Ivan, to his credit, had the good sense to throw his weapon to the ground, for he quickly realised the odds were decisively impossible. The defenceless John and Luke provided no threat, choosing to remain seated amidst the sudden onslaught.
The indestructible Indigo refused to surrender, screaming that as head of Traffik his objective would never be crushed. He quickly grabbed hold of the Piedpiper, who retaliated with an abrupt head butt. The intended blow had little impact. Both men exchanged punches, their bodies entangled in a free-for-all struggle. The targets were as defenceless as they were straightforward, but orders clearly stipulated the hierarchy must be captured alive at all costs.
It was Indigo who gained the ascendancy as a result of his opponent’s wounded leg. He withdrew a knife and held the blade against the man’s abdomen. His immediate threat was momentarily acknowledged. Forbes and his men promptly rose to their feet, but sensibly remained a respectable distance from the unpredictable Traffik leader. Indigo let out a scream of frustration. In an instant he had forfeited control, left only with the threat of stabbing his sworn enemy. How the tables quickly turn with his nemesis as the only means of insurance.
‘One mistake from above and consider the Piedpiper dead!’ he roared.
His comment was ignored by all. The elite troopers focused on the knife and Indigo. Patiently all four waited until one could get a clear shot to dislodge the weapon and render the man harmless.
A barrage of insults and threats continued to be directed at the constabulary. Each trooper knew the opportunity to fire on the knife would only be a matter of time. Through his own doing the Traffik leader would create his own fate in the way he was conducting proceedings. Displaying an excitable and desperate state, his body constantly moved and with it came the repetitive withdrawal then close attendance of the knife against Hanna’s body. Timing and accuracy was the key to releasing the weapon and not some anticipation or assumption which would result in accidental death. The situation was tense and Gallagher would only allow the elite troopers to take aim.
‘You haven’t got the guts because you’re all afraid my little knife might put an end to the Piedpiper. You want to take us both alive so we can rot in your fucking system. So come on, have some balls and take a shot, you pricks!’
During the outburst Forbes succeeded in retrieving the guns lying beside the two deceased bodies, having already secured Ivan’s Smith and Wesson earlier. Indigo’s predicament was now directed from two fronts. The Traffik supremo’s game was all but over. There was no escaping the overwhelming odds, but the detective’s fear was in losing one or both of these criminals. He desperately wanted them spared for interrogation at a later stage.
And then the inevitable happened. A single shot was fired by the head trooper and Indigo dropped the knife. His weapon spun out of control and flew across the stone floor, spinning to a stop beside Stephen Buchanan. The banker lent down to pick it up and then passed it across to Burke. In a flash Forbes and his three detectives secured both men with little resistance. Fortunately for Indigo he had only received a minor injury to his hand. From the balcony above, Gallagher collected five sets of handcuffs and threw them down to his superior. The finishing touch completed the arrests.
~ * ~
Forbes was beaming with pride. His backup team had done themselves proud. The outcome was exactly what he had hoped for. No further bloodshed, both the Piedpiper and Indigo were finally under his control, Arthur Simpson would survive and the remaining committee members were unharmed. The return walk to the surface and fresh air had commenced.
On reaching Broadbent’s exit, Forbes was infuriated to see a media frenzy lying in wait. Word had spread from some unknown source, for the TV and tabloid fraternity were out in force. Dozens of reporters and countless cameras greeted the return party as they progressively appeared from beneath the bombsite. Cheers and applause could be heard coming from a barricaded public. Bloody reporters and an inquisitive crowd, like being part of some damn circus act, thought Forbes.
As the party continued to surface, the press, radio and television fraternity began hustling for prime positions beside a newly erected wire-mesh barricade. The media was determined to capture firsthand glimpses of the infamous lot. Forbes was at least thankful that someone had the good sense to segregate his tailing entourage from the excited crowd. A helicopter, presumably TV coverage, hovered above at a respectable distance. Microphones, cameras and various recording apparatus were clearly visible from both sides of the designated path. At its patrolled exit a row of paddy wagons lay in wait to escort the criminals back to the station. Spectators in their droves pushed forward for a better vantage point. Their numbers appeared to exceed five hundred. Forbes was bewildered with the intensity their emergence had brought, least of all the presence of an overhead helicopter.
As each handcuffed prisoner emerged from the bowels beneath Pedley, the public’s mood grew distinctly hostile. Abuse and ridicule had now replaced the praise and applause. Confusion, it seemed, was in trying to identify the Piedpiper and Indigo amongst this ominous lot. Forbes had no intention of revealing the scoundrels. With the passing of each criminal within the barricaded pathway, a portion of the crowd stepped up their abuse and resentment toward the prisoners. Six men began to vigorously shake the wire barrier. Two further daredevils commenced climbing the barricade, but were quickly brought into line by Whittaker’s subordinates. Someone in the crowd unexpectedly threw an object, collecting Buchanan in the right shoulder. The banker grimaced in pain, both furious with the stupidity and inaccuracy of the act.
A number of empty cans, perhaps some still partially full, were haphazardly let loose by a few choice idiots. Whittaker’s men began to round up the culprits and at the same time call for Forbes to get a move on. The scene had turned ugly in addition to the constant screams for blood.
Nervously the constabulary, committee members and criminals drew closer to the awaiting patrol vans, their efforts slowed due the public’s attempt to break down the protective screen. Television cameras continued to roll, capturing the hostility and verbal abuse for their forthcoming newsreels. The paparazzi arm of the media were having a field day, snapping every conceivable thing that passed their way. The right picture would undoubtedly be front-page news come the morning editions. Mixed up in this appalling and disturbing outburst, the reporters could only rely on the immediate crisis at hand. Details pertaining to the underground capture would now have to wait. Their anticipated interview with the police and committee was out of the question.
Forbes had become desperate, for the public’s antagonising threats had reached fever pitch. The crowd wanted blood, These criminals had caused enough grief to last two lifetimes. How they loathed the drug fraternity for the pain they had bro
ught on the community. These people would take the law into their own hands if given half a chance. The detective’s priority now lay in reaching the police vans and transferring these felons behind bars for safekeeping and peace of mind. To hell with satisfying the vengeance of the general public. Screams of abuse could be heard from all directions.
‘Hang the bastards ... an eye for an eye ... rot in hell ...’ the crowd bellowed.
Quite shocked at the hatred being hurled, it was a comment directed by a teenage girl that would forever hover in Forbes’ mind.
‘Let them feel every Pedley eye burning straight through their rotten souls,’ she shouted.
Her abuse epitomised the very mood of this malicious lot. From beyond the barricaded pathway it was imperative that Whittaker contained this surging mob before the inevitable.
The police had grossly underestimated the public’s vengeance. Hostility toward these criminals and the legacy bestowed on Pedley was just too much to contain certain individuals. Three irate demonstrators finally broke through the police barricade and quickly ran toward the handcuffed prisoners. Unable to identify the Piedpiper and Indigo amongst the ominous five, the men let fly with some choice abuse as they landed a few telling punches and kicks before the law could apprehend them. Forbes was astonished at the sheer aggression of the assault and that of the crowd’s venom in screaming for blood. The Pedley station cells couldn’t come quickly enough.