Scorpio's Lot (17 page)

Unfortunately for Ruth, her
morning walk through the town gardens had decided her fate. She had wandered
off the main walkway in search of a water fountain she remembered near a toilet
block. She had unintentionally come within earshot of the syndicate’s
conversation and if she had been focused could easily have caught the gist of
their discussion. As it was she heard nothing, but when the trio saw her they
assumed she had overheard them. The regional head had referred to the incident
as ‘the frowns of fortune’. If Ruth Evans had become privy to highly classified
information, the risk was apparent. To ignore this could be their undoing.

Although Ruth was aware of the
regional head’s identity within society, she did not know this person’s link
with the underworld. And there had been no direct eye contact between the men
and Ruth, despite the close proximity and sparse camouflage of ti-tree.

The men had come to the park to
eliminate Ruth. Although as the local gossip she was not a popular person, the
events that were about to unfold could only be described as disturbing and
malicious in the extreme. Upon arriving at site C3, one of the men reached into
his pocket and produced something resembling a large hairpin. While his
accomplice shone a small pencil torch toward the door lock and with their
presence still concealed by a thick blanket of fog, the first man inserted the
pin. Following a few probes and turns of the device the latch was released,
allowing the annex door to open. A quiet entry was mandatory since they needed
the element of surprise. One scream would not be tolerated.

They cautiously surveyed the
darkened room but there was no evidence of Ruth sleeping in the annex. To avoid
any unnecessary noise they turned on the torch to illuminate their passageway
to the next level. As they boarded the caravan the steps creaked in the still
of the night, producing a sound that would stir the dead. Both men froze.

They heard Ruth rearranging her
sleeping position and crept closer to claim their prize. Face up and in a deep
sleep, Ruth now emitted a light snore and whistling mixture that seem to grow
stronger with each intake of the lungs. Hovering directly beside her bed, they
were now ready for the kill. With meticulous precision a hand was lowered to
cover her entire mouth, causing her to immediately wake. It took a short moment
for her to comprehend her dilemma, her eyes now bulging in terrified awareness.

Muttering a series of threats and
making reference to his regional boss, the assailant taunted and played with
his victim in excitable anticipation of his evil act.

‘This is for your interference!’
he snarled, thrusting the knife deep into her breast.

The blade delivered excruciating
pain into Ruth’s tense body. The second attacker had difficulty in restraining
her desperate struggles as a second, then third lunge was delivered to her
torso, narrowly missing the vital organs. Blood saturated her nightie and
sheets as the men carried out their frenzied and malicious assault. She lacked
the strength to cope with this onslaught as the final downward thrust pierced
her abdomen. Her struggle appeared to be at an end and the two men made their
hasty retreat.

Now alone and left in this
horrendous state, Ruth was barely alive as she slid from the bed onto the
caravan floor. Trying to control the flow of blood was useless, for the
multiple stab wounds were too numerous. Her body screamed with unthinkable
pain. In her final moment Ruth ran her finger across one of the deep wounds and
on the vinyl floor started to write a message in her own blood. Unfortunately
she could not complete the inscription before she died.

~ * ~

arly
next morning en route to C7, where Brigit and Helen had spent the previous
night, I wandered past B8 more out of habit than deliberation and immediately
noticed the sliding annex door slightly ajar. Upon closer inspection it was
clear the site had been broken into last night. The place was a mess, with
various furniture pieces in disarray and bed linen from the van’s wardrobe
spread across the floor.

The signs were blatantly obvious
that the syndicate had been informed of the women’s whereabouts or else someone
had betrayed my confidence. I dismissed this latter idea since only Emily and
James Slattery knew where they were. It was certainly not Em, and while I had
my suspicions of James I did not believe he would do something of this
magnitude. Were Brigit and Helen still safe from these fiends? I immediately
made my way toward site C7.

Just prior to my arrival I heard
an ear-piercing scream coming from Ruth Evans’ van. What now? I thought. Is
this to be my day of unrelenting surprises? Knowing Ruth, she’d probably just
seen a mouse or two. But the screaming continued with such intensity that I
decided to investigate.

Marge Samson was sitting on Ruth’s
verandah, whimpering. She appeared to be in shock, just staring at the ground.
She didn’t acknowledge my arrival. I knew something was dreadfully wrong.

I climbed the two steps and the
fate of Ruth Evans lay before me. It was the most horrific sight I had ever
seen. Looking down upon poor Ruth in disbelief, I was astonished at the extent
of this malicious attack. The bloodstained body and bed made me light-headed. I
felt like vomiting at any moment. My eye caught something on the floor beside
her body. I knelt down to take a closer look and saw that Ruth had attempted
some crude lettering as she lay there dying. How clever of her, I thought. Never
one to miss an opportunity. A clue, perhaps, to the identity of her murderer. I
studied the blood-inscribed letters that were irregularly spaced on the floor.

PIEDP
II

What was she trying to tell us?
This made no sense. There was no such word, unless it was meant to be broken
down or was incomplete. But it had to wait for now as I had to check on Helen
and Brigit.

Sitting on the verandah, Marge
was still in her own world, so rather than console the poor woman I thought it
best to leave her alone for the moment. I would fetch Emily to comfort her shortly,
but my priority was with Helen and Brigit.

I called out while knocking on
the door of C7 and to my relief I saw Brigit approach.

‘Thank goodness you’re safe,’ I
said.

‘Tom, you look pale and troubled.
What’s wrong?’ asked Brigit, looking a bit worse for wear following two days of
confined space.

I briefly explained what had
happened to Ruth and that their previous site was broken into last night. The
women were clearly upset at Ruth’s fate, wondering when their turn would come
to face the enemy again.

‘Helen, we’ll take a trip to the
police station shortly, as this park is no longer a safe haven to hide Brigit.
We have an informant in our midst, but it’s purely speculation as to who this
might be. We can’t start pointing the finger at anyone until some evidence
comes to hand.’

‘An informant? Surely not!’ said
Helen.

‘Afraid so. How else would they
know of your whereabouts?’

‘You take Brigit to the police
station, Tom, but drop me at home on your way through. I’ll visit Forbes this
afternoon.’

‘Very well, but do you think that’s
wise?’

‘I should be okay in broad
daylight.’

We cautiously made our way to the
park’s residence, entering via the rear laundry door. I was certain no one saw
our movements. Poor Emily incurred the full serve of bad news. I instructed her
to phone the police regarding this morning’s discovery and we would now proceed
to the police station before the park became inundated with authorities and
curiosity-seekers alike. With some reluctance she passed me the keys to her
Passat when I told her that my old beat-up Ford was still undergoing repairs. I
then asked if she could attend to Marge Samson sitting outside C3.

I had dropped Helen off when I
caught the reflection of an advancing 4WD in the rear vision mirror. The sheer
speed of the vehicle in a built-up area took me by surprise as it roared past.
Brigit flinched on seeing the Toyota Land Cruiser rush by - it looked
remarkably similar to the one that had trailed us on that fateful night. The
4WD progressed some two blocks ahead and came to an abrupt halt in the middle
of the road. I slowed down considerably upon seeing two men emerge from their
vehicle and throw what appeared to be a handful of tacks or nails on the
bitumen.

Fortunately an intersection
presented a timely detour to avoid this confrontation. I took a right-hand turn
and suddenly realised the police station was in the opposite direction. Before
we swept around the corner I caught a glimpse of the two men boarding their
vehicle and I knew this was only a temporary reprieve before they recommenced
their pursuit. The side road provided a narrow and winding route, offering
limited opportunity for two-way traffic.

Brigit began panicking and
reached for her mobile to dial 000. She reiterated the usual routine - the chase,
the 4WD and its occupants, the drug syndicate, the location - but this time
with details about the VW Passat. She was informed that a unit would be sent to
the scene immediately.

I saw a distant car parked at an
angle across the road, effectively blocking all oncoming traffic. Had this
vehicle broken down or did the 4WD have an accomplice to corner us in? More
bloody decisions to make in determining what had to be done to rid this lot. A
further side road beckoned as the car wheels caught the upright gutter with my
increased speed. Where to? I thought. The police station was now out of the
question, given the 4WD would be coming from that general direction and there
was still the uncertain intent of the second vehicle. Would it be possible to
reach the caravan park before they pounced again? I floored the pedal to return
home, not realising the syndicate had already anticipated my chosen route.

The 4WD came into view,
travelling along a parallel road separated only by an avenue of trees. It was
closer to the caravan park so I would have to divert into a side road up ahead
if we were to arrive first at the park. An impossible task, so my priority now
was to focus on escape. The trees had now given way to an industrial estate and
the two roads were hidden from each other. This gave me the opportunity to
divert in a different direction and take a side street I knew that led to a
country roadway. We couldn’t rely upon the police; God knows where their unit
was sent. Again they were conspicuous by their absence and I could only
conclude their customary delay was part and parcel of the service.

We travelled along this
thoroughfare for several minutes. With no further sighting of the 4WD I had an
idea to run past Brigit.

‘We appear to have shaken off
these bastards. I believe it’s too risky to reconsider the police station or
the caravan park in case they’re laying in wait. Brigit, I have a very
trustworthy friend, Hamish O’Connor, who has a cabin up in the hills near
Ashworth. It’s isolated in a beautiful and peaceful part of the country some
two hours’ drive from Pedley. I think that sort of environment will do you the
world of good for a couple of days or so.’

‘Sounds fine and just the place
to convalesce for a bit. I need to get away from all this bloody harassment.’

‘Good, I’ll phone Hamish shortly.’

~ * ~

After
Emily alerted the authorities, Harrison’s Caravan Park was abuzz with police
converging on the site belonging to Ruth Evans. The usual curiosity show had
commenced, attracted by the sound of blaring sirens and the cavalcade of cars
that had come to a halt in front of C3. The onlookers muttered amongst
themselves as the police erected their customary crime scene tape. Looking
rather dignified, Detective Forbes, accompanied by his able assistant Paul
Marsh, crossed the police line to commence their examination.