Scorpio's Lot (113 page)

The traitor’s intuition had
proven to be correct, for at that precise moment the beam from Larry’s torch
scanned the very same chamber. The light swept across the crypt, bounced off
the demon creature and continued clockwise to the next chamber. He could hear
Larry react at the mere sight of the devil from within. For a short period the
man’s torch repeatedly zigzagged in the neighbouring recess, suggesting his
surveillance had suddenly become more meticulous. He was relieved the same
ritual had excluded his somewhat vulnerable refuge. But the traitor’s belief
that all had passed was short-lived, for suddenly the torchlight returned to
further inspect the preceding chamber. He drew a knife from a side pocket in
anticipation that a thorough search was about to occur.

Larry stepped forth into the
crypt, his light repeating its circular sweep of the darkened recess. With only
the camouflage of a demon creature as his one saving grace, the traitor knew
the time had arrived to take the offensive. To wait for the inevitable would
only encourage the Traffik felon to yell for help. The time had passed for
explanations, truces or compromises. The risk was extreme with Indigo in mind,
given their leader would most likely shoot on sight. Having run out of options,
Traffik had unintentionally become the traitor’s foe and further burden.

The man stopped and shone his
torch across the hellish host. The direction of light indicated the pursuer
stood to the left of the sculpture. Knowing the element of surprise was to his
distinct advantage, the traitor raised his knife in readiness for the assault.
The attack would need to be swift and with penetrating accuracy. He could not
allow for any undue sound that would ultimately bring the remaining lot running
to his assistance.

The traitor lunged from behind
the statue. In a frenzy of multiple stabbings he inflicted several shocking
wounds. Caught totally off-guard, Larry stood no chance in mounting a defence
let alone call out to his colleagues. He was repeatedly stabbed in the upper
part of the body. The blade initially entered the man’s forehead and then
progressed to the torso, cutting him severely around the rib cage, including a
fatal lunge to the heart region. The torch now lay on the bluestone floor, its
low beam casting an obscure light across the victim’s body. The traitor then
unmercifully returned to the head region. Having thrust his knife into the man’s
mouth, he drew it clean through the face and across to the ear, severing his
tongue and laying the cheek completely open. The blade then caught the man’s
right arm, dividing the main artery as the traitor lunged across, slightly
losing his balance. The last injury was of little consequence, for Larry was
already dead.

Blood lay splattered in all four
directions as the traitor dragged the body behind the statue. The torch was
extinguished. He now had to quickly find an alternative refuge and hope that he
would pass an occasional phenomenal lamp to assist with his passage. His chance
of escape was at least half reasonable, since the attack was carried out in
near silence. Death was swift, but he knew his hasty retreat was equally
significant. The traitor then withdrew and disappeared into the obscurity of a
darkened passageway.

Some five minutes later the sound
of Indigo’s voice could be heard in the distance. On discovering his colleague’s
body he let his feelings be known.

‘You bastard, I’ll get you for
this! We’ll destroy your fucking operation ... we’ll hunt down every piece of
Scorpio shit... ya can’t escape ... ya hear me, prick!’

~ * ~

Fifteen
minutes prior to the RSL closure, two vehicles driven by Hamish and Neil
Carpenter pulled into the club’s rear car park. Five people immediately
proceeded to the lobby in hope that either the manager or Tracy was still on
duty. The tall bluish-green eyed blonde was counting the evening takings as the
police stepped forward to the reception desk. Emily, Brigit and Hamish remained
in the background while Carpenter and Martino conducted their initial
enquiries.

‘Would your manager be in?’ asked
Carpenter.

‘Alex McLeod left around half an
hour ago. If your visit is in relation to the missing committee members, then I’m
sure I can help,’ she offered.

‘Very well. For the record, when
were they last seen?’

‘That’s difficult to say because
they all arrived at varying times. Their meeting was scheduled to commence at
eight, but I’m aware of at least one person who arrived late,’ she replied.

‘And who might that be?’
questioned Martino, looking at the list of people that Emily had handed him.

‘Ben Johnson, the publican.
Unpleasant man, that one. It wouldn’t worry me in the least if he doesn’t
resurface.’

‘And when were they found
missing?’ asked Carpenter.

‘A staff member checked the
conference room at ten-fifteen to find them gone.’

‘So in theory these eight people
could have left anywhere between eight and ten o’clock,’ he said.

‘Technically correct, but highly
improbable,’ claimed Tracy.

‘Oh, and why is that?’

‘Because just after nine o’clock
I walked past the room and overheard an argument.’

‘An argument over what?’
persisted Carpenter.

‘Some land subdivision. In that
short amount of time you don’t pick up too much, but I’m sure it was something
to do with land. I’m not in the habit of eavesdropping, sergeant,’ she
responded.

‘Could we see the conference
room?’

‘Certainly, this way please.
Nothing has been touched. Everything in the room remains as it was earlier.’

The party of five followed the
tall blonde through a series of left- and right-hand turns.

On reaching the conference room
Carpenter gave explicit instructions not to touch anything. The immediate
observation was what Tracy had described. Briefcases, mobile phones, some
unfinished notes and five sets of keys, presumably car keys amongst them, sat
conspicuously on the table. The room reeked of something amiss. Why would eight
people suddenly get up and vacate the premises? To leave unfinished work behind
didn’t make sense.

Carpenter recommenced his routine
questionnaire. ‘Without touching anything, can you identify any of these
personnel belongings?’ he prompted, turning to Emily and Brigit.

‘The brown leather briefcase and
silver mobile phone at the far end belong to my husband Tom,’ declared Emily.

‘And the light blue one looks
like Helen’s, my stepmother,’ added Brigit.

‘What about the remaining items?’

‘No idea, I’ve never seen them
before except to say the red mobile looks familiar. I recall Martha Kellett
having a similar one,’ offered Emily.

Carpenter and Martino commenced
their rotation around the conference table. Occasionally stopping, they briefly
checked the contents from various notepads and then continued on,
circumnavigating the large piece of oak furniture. Following four such
revolutions, Carpenter suddenly noticed a small piece of paper lying on the
carpet at the far end of the room. He bent down to retrieve the scrap and
checked its contents.

‘What’s this?’ he questioned,
reading the scribbled attempt out loud. ‘T R A ... what does that mean?’

‘I know exactly what it means,
sarge,’ Martino said.

‘You do?’ said Carpenter in a
surprised tone.

‘Judging by what lies on the
table down the far end, it’s a fair bet that very seat was occupied by Sergeant
Burke. He’s attempted to write the word Traffik would be my guess. He hasn’t
completed the word in fear of being caught,’ he assessed.

Four people, including the resident
Tracy, simply stared at young Martino as if in a frozen moment of time. The
implication was straightforward, the consequences catastrophic. Eight people
had possibly been kidnapped by a notorious drug syndicate, their fate to be
determined by the infamous Indigo.

‘Isn’t that the mob responsible
for the Covert Road atrocity?’ announced an unthinking Tracy, a comment which
didn’t sit well under the circumstances.

‘The same, unfortunately,’
replied a despondent Carpenter, who now held grave fears for his colleague.

The predicable reaction was one
of anxiety and gut-wrenching emotion. Brigit had to sit down, her face buried
with both hands as she lent forward in despair. Emily, forever the one to
openly express her feelings, was reduced to tears. Hamish appeared tormented, a
mixture of anguish and resentment, while the two policemen were simply stunned
with the realisation that Burke was in terrible danger. A short moment of
solitude seemed appropriate to allow everyone to recompose themselves.

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.