Scorpio's Lot (122 page)

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 brought 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.

On reaching the exit of the
barricaded path, a convoy of seven paddy wagons lay in wait. Now surrounded by
a barrage of reporters, Whittaker had at least the good sense to man his
limited crew close by. The irritating sound of the overhead helicopter
continued its dominant presence. Forbes felt distinctly besieged by the
infuriating media. He was beginning to wonder which adversary was the lesser
evil. But in all seriousness the reporter’s persistence could not be ignored
indefinitely. He realised there was an obligation of sorts to at least get the
tabloid fraternity off his back. They would be expecting a post mortem to
enlighten their flock. Lump it or like it that was the way, perhaps protocol or
one’s duty to inform the masses.

Forbes deliberately kept his
announcement short and to the point, believing a quick exit was in everybody’s
best interest. He briefly explained that a statement would be released to the
media in three hours time from the front steps of Pedley Police Station. He
stated their immediate priority was to secure the criminals and have the
injured attended to. Additionally, there was a need to retrieve the deceased
and have them transported to the town morgue. Seemingly satisfied, the media
backed off and would await the afternoon postmortem.

Finally breaking loose from the
mayhem, he proceeded toward the line of police vans which stood waiting to
transfer the entire party. Not prepared to take any risks in having his men or
the committee sit directly beside either syndicate, Forbes instructed the
Traffik and Scorpio thugs be placed directly into separate vans. He couldn’t
underestimate either of their leaders, given the trail of blood on their hands.

With their return to the station
the criminals were immediately escorted to separate cells. A doctor stood
waiting to treat the wounded. Arthur Simpson took precedence over the two
Scorpio thugs, and although slightly undernourished and physically depleted, he
was nonetheless declared medically sound. Rest and well-balanced food would put
Arthur back on track.

The seven committee members still
appeared visibly shaken following their extraordinary close call with death.
Forbes envisaged some level of counseling would invariably be assigned. It was,
understandably, only the right thing to do. He then instructed the group,
including Darren Burke, to return tomorrow afternoon at five o’clock to sign
statements. The formalities were necessary and best completed earlier rather
than later, while the issues remained firmly in one’s mind. He instructed the
sergeant to take the remainder of the day off and report back around nine the
next morning.

With the departure of the
committee members and both drug syndicates behind bars, the pace of the day had
now slowed considerably. Forbes took a moment to contemplate before the media
onslaught, which was scheduled to begin in an hour. He decided to call both
James Slattery and Hassan to assist in identifying the Scorpio rouges in Luke
and John and whether they had crossed paths with the infamous Lou Hanna.

His thoughts were suddenly
squashed by the intrusive sound coming from his mobile phone. It was Graeme
Bailey from city narcotics offering his congratulations and to advise that
headquarters would be glued to their TV sets in anticipation of the live media
cross at two. He told him to relish the moment given the hard work and long
hours put in by his team. This was payback time for all the run around and
suffering that both syndicates had caused.

At two pm, in conjunction with
the television cross, the postmortem commenced in front of a large and
demanding media. Forbes looked down on the mass of reporters, believing every
conceivable television network and tabloid affiliation had assembled for the
briefing. His summary of the events was direct and precise. He gave praise to
the tireless contribution of so many, a team effort as he called it, in placing
the infamous Piedpiper and Indigo behind bars.

In the eyes of the general public
this case was bigger than Ben Hur and justifiably the media presence were here
in droves. Predictably the reporters bombarded the detective with every
possible question they could muster up. Their unrelenting interrogation covered
everything from Scorpio and that of Traffik, through to the underground
confrontation and details of the subterranean passageways. It was a barrage of
unrestrained reporters hell-bent on delivering a knockout article. After all,
this would be front-page news tomorrow and possibly the press story of the
year.

In the end Forbes had handled the
media fraternity exceptionally well and his colleagues had only praise for his
perseverance and methodical approach in dealing with so many people. Reflecting
on Arthur Simpson’s earlier remark, Forbes could only surmise what might become
of the underground network. In the space of half an hour Pedley’s
two-hundred-year-old secretive past had been broadcast to the country. Folklore
and myth was no longer and he could only speculate that if the authorities don’t
move fast, the subterranean passageways were destined to become a ghetto for
the undesirable or an unwelcome tourist attraction.