Scorpio's Lot (117 page)

With some reluctance Emily and
Brigit accepted the detective’s decision, but insisted they be kept informed on
any progress.

‘Rest assured, you’ll be the
first to know,’ Gallagher said.

Suddenly the unannounced arrival
of Piochsa Szabo further fueled the crisis at hand. Brushing aside the lesser
likes at the station, she hurried toward Gallagher, demanding an update on the
missing constabulary. Understandably her concerns lay with Paul Marsh’s
disappearance; she hadn’t heard from him in two days. Desperate for an answer,
she ignored the present conversation being conducted with two other women and
interrupted their discussion.

‘Detective, would you please tell
me where Paul Marsh is? I’ve just learnt there are a number of officers beneath
Pedley in search of these drug murderers -’

Gallagher cut her short. ‘Ms
Szabo, you simply can’t come barging into the station demanding answers. Our
information is classified and I have every intention in keeping it that way. It’s
our plan to have Detective Marsh available within twenty-four hours. That’s the
best I can offer for the moment.’

‘But –‘ Piochsa persisted.

‘No buts about it, Ms Szabo. You
will need to be both patient and understanding in your wait, as will Mrs
Harrison and Ms O’Neill. Now if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I have some urgent
matters to attend to.’

With the reluctant departure of
the three women, Gallagher focused back on the matter in hand. He gathered his
troops to inform them that entry would be by way of Broadbent’s site and there
was a fair chance the Scorpio headquarters would be located close by. An array
of arsenal including tear gas and heat detection equipment had been brought in
from headquarters overnight. The additional inclusion of night vision goggles
and two-way communications would assist with their assault.

Gallagher was particularly
grateful for the support. The case had priority status and these useful
additions would give his men a distinct edge. He feared the worst, thinking
either Scorpio or Traffik had gained the ascendancy from within and his
colleagues were now subjected to a hostage situation. The task ahead would test
every shred of nerve and endurance. He also recognised that twenty-three
persons entering the subterranean network would be a force to contend with. The
time had arrived to commence their short drive to Covert Road.

~ * ~

he
sudden execution of the man standing on the chamber roof brought the conflict
to a head. The two Scorpio members, who had retreated earlier to secure some
unknown device, had suddenly advertised their return. They were determined to
eliminate Traffik’s stronghold and to free their hapless accomplices. In the
attempt to protect himself from the gunfire above, Indigo grabbed hold of
Martha Kellett to act as a human shield. His henchmen immediately took the
offensive to deal with the threat.

Ivan, forever cool in a crisis,
continued to maintain Traffik’s dominance over the police and committee
members. He threatened to shoot at will if anyone so much as retreated from the
danger. Both Dave and Martin unleashed a barrage of gunfire in the direction of
their adversary.

Traffik’s one saving grace was
the angle of crossfire. The exchange of gunshots to this point had been
hopelessly off target. The two thugs above were simply too far back from the
gallery’s opening to gain any worthwhile accuracy. To enable an effective
challenge, Scorpio’s assault would need to be mounted from the fringe of the
gallery. Traffik knew this to be an advantage, for the enemy would need to
expose their whereabouts to enable a direct hit. The downside was in not
knowing from which chamber roof they would strike. Gunfire momentarily ceased,
implying both syndicates were reassessing their strategy. The situation was as
tense as it was intriguing.

Replicating their leader’s quick
thinking, Dave and Martin seized Buchanan and Smyth respectively and held each
man for protection. They constantly circled the room, not knowing when and from
where their foe might strike.

A single shot from above suddenly
broke the silence. The man retreated too quickly to take any worthwhile aim.
Unfortunately the deadly missile had found an unlikely target. The bullet had
grazed Richard Smyth’s right shoulder, causing the man to yell out in pain.
Luckily it was only a superficial wound that required minimal attention.

The constabulary stood by, unable
to intervene and put a stop to this madness. Forbes had had enough and starting
screaming for both parties to come to their senses before more blood was spilt.
His words went unheeded. The presence of some pompous cop who had forfeited all
authority made no difference to the current crisis.

The game of cat and mouse
continued, but as to who was gaining the ascendancy was anybody’s guess.
Periodical gunfire had become as predictable as it was inaccurate. And then the
inevitable happened. Martin scored a direct hit. With three consecutive bullets
he fatally shot one of the Scorpio thugs through the heart, lung and stomach.
The force of the impact caused the man to fall from the chamber roof and land
on the gallery floor. He was killed instantly. The sudden bloodied body lying
on the bluestone brought screams from Martha and Helen.

Indigo immediately knew he had
gained the upper hand. Sensing only one other assailant posed a threat, he was
confident it was only a matter of time before the second was eliminated. Cautiously
the Traffik thugs kept vigilance on anything that remotely moved. This was not
the time for complacency. Indigo knew his foe would strike again and with that
in mind his nemesis could never be underestimated.

As expected, a further shot came
from above. The bullet was woefully off target, but as the man scurried back
Dave retaliated, hitting him in the right leg. In the context of things this
represented a huge advantage, given it would considerably slow the blighter’s
escape. A gun could be heard landing on the stone surface. It was Indigo’s cue
to hunt the felon down. He roared his approval and then turned to Dave and
Martin.

‘Hunt down that piece of Scorpion
shit and bring him back alive! He may be the Piedpiper after all,’ he ordered.

Indigo momentarily looked down at
the body that had fallen, declaring the man too young and an unlikely candidate
to have been their leader. With the departure of Dave and Martin, the Traffik
leader stared at his audience. He was now in a quandary as to what to believe.
Not having the slightest interest in the dead body lying above, his only
passing thought was the traitor had served his purpose. More importantly, he
now had the job of determining where the truth lay. Was the Piedpiper the
person on the loose who his accomplices had identified earlier, or did their
leader stand before him amongst these eight people?

Indigo took a moment to
contemplate the scenarios. He had the tools and experience to extract the truth
and his persuasive methods had never failed him in the past. Three
possibilities were at hand to assist in finding the elusive answer. The two
Scorpio accomplices would plead for mercy if they didn’t cooperate, and as for
these committee members, it only required the appropriate deduction process to
expose the culprit. A third probability rested with his men and their ability
to return with the mystery person.

Indigo turned and glared at the
eight people standing before him. Again, he would unleash his threatening
tactics. Without one spoken word he stepped forward and stood in front of each
person for around one minute, sizing up their body language and constantly
casting his eyes from head to foot, forever repeating the ritual. The whole
performance was extremely intimidating. Not one of the eight dared murmur a
sound. Indigo was in complete control.

Throughout his individual
diagnosis, I decided to commence with my own evaluation of the seven people to
my immediate side. It seemed ludicrous that the Piedpiper was potentially one
of us, or at least this is what the man from above had implied and then was
shot for his troubles. Similarly, and by their own admission, the Scorpio pair
indicated their missing accomplice was indeed the regional head and therefore
he too could not be overlooked as a likely candidate. I refocused on my fellow
committee members, astonished that I was even contemplating such an idea.
Deciding to evaluate them in the order they stood beside the wall, I started
with the person to my far left.

Ashley Collins was possibly on
the high side of his mid-thirties. He was ambitious, inquisitive by nature and
had a reasonable grasp on the state of our current dilemma. The
Advertiser
appointed him chief reporter to the case and he had a reputation in pestering
everybody to get his story. It defied logic that someone searching for a story
would himself be directly responsible for issuing such despicable acts and that
of trafficking drugs. This didn’t make any sense unless it was all a clever
front.

Ben Johnson was in his late
forties and the most disliked person of the group. Arrogant, clever, ambitious
and someone who would go to exceptional lengths to get his own way. If there
was to be a suspicion, then it would lie with his hotel security thugs, but
there had never been a connection to any drug organisation. Despite all his
negatives I couldn’t see the man involved at this level of corruption, given
his community spirit and very public life.

Darren Burke was around
thirty-eight. He was likeable, disciplined, well organised and a fellow
Rotarian. As part of the local police force, he’d already been subjected to
Scorpio’s punishment and humiliation, particularly with regard to the
Peterswood and
Molly Bloom
incidents. Given his line of duty and
uncompromising determination to capture the criminals, a case against Darren
would indeed be a shallow attempt. I considered the sergeant to be the most
unlikely candidate within the group.

Helen O’Neill was approaching
fifty, an intelligent woman who was both pleasant and considerate. Poor Helen had
worn the brunt of Scorpio’s aggression with the kidnapping of her stepdaughter.
Her protection over Brigit during the days of seclusion was commendable and
Helen also had the misfortune of experiencing a house break-in. I could
personally vouch for her unshakable desire in searching for Brigit’s return.
Helen could not possibly be considered capable of such a role.

Richard Smyth was a quiet,
methodical and alert sort of person and was nearing retirement at around
sixty-three. Although the least known of the group, I could not allow this to
persuade my mind. Richard headed the engineering department at the local
council and in the short time I had known him, I found the man of decent and
honest character. It seemed inconceivable that he could stoop to such low and
callous acts.

Martha Kellett, a woman in her
early sixties, was supportive, intelligent and thoughtful by nature. Martha was
a retired teacher who devoted considerable time to her local charity work and
voluntary educational support. She had been subjected to a Scorpio bashing on
the night of her untimely visit to the caravan park. Comparable with Darren
Burke, it defied logic these thugs would turn against their own kind. She was
also very supportive of Emily during my chase in the countryside and it would
therefore take a strong argument to convince me otherwise.

Stephen Buchanan was a man in his
late forties. He was clever, shrewd and supportive when it suited him. He was
an ex-boxer and generally had a good name in town. Stephen unselfishly contributed
funds and gave his time to a number of sporting committees. I considered the
man more of an acquaintance than a friend, but to give credit where it was due,
Stephen was very supportive when financial assistance was required to purchase
the caravan park. He was primarily a businessman, but had a big heart when it
came to the local community. Stephen’s makeup did not match that of a drug
leader.