Scorpio's Lot (56 page)

~ * ~

Marlow
had decided Klaus Schmitt and Dean Templeton were to be removed prior to any
document being transferred. A specific instruction was relayed to Neville
Bradbury and Mick to take the Traffik duo to an awaiting car being attended by
Charlie and Sol. The Keeper would now lay in wait until his order had been
carried out.

Believing the present situation
provided ideal opportunity, Marlow’s subordinates proceeded toward the
unsuspecting pair. The crowd was currently absorbed with the parade and there
was no immediate police presence to report. The men in violet were conveniently
positioned to the rear of the spectators, making the task less conspicuous and
easier for retreating. Approaching the pair from behind, Bradbury commenced his
intrusion with a quiet but forceful command.

‘You have a gun with a silencer
pointed at your back. Do as you’re told or I’ll pull the trigger.’

The men squirmed ever so slightly
but maintained their unassuming stance with eyes focused directly ahead. The
taller man of the two continued to grasp hold of the stuffed giraffe.

Bradbury continued his directive
both calmly and deliberately. ‘Facing right, you’re to proceed at a steady pace
toward the Esplanade Hotel on the corner. Upon reaching this intersection you’re
to turn a further right and commence your descent down Williams Street until
you reach a car park entrance. At this point you’re to stop and await your next
order. We’ll be watching your every step, so should you decide to create
trouble or make a run for it then you’ll get a bullet in your back. Do I make
myself clear?’

‘Yes,’ replied the duo simultaneously.

The procession of rival
syndicates commenced their march down Pitt Street. For Bradbury and Mick this
stretch represented the most challenging part of the route, since the gathered
crowd could provide opportunity for the Traffik pair to contemplate a quick
diversion. Quite unexpectedly, the presence of two uniformed officers who
seemed to be redirecting a section of the spectators suddenly fuelled the
crisis. Bradbury wasn’t sure what next to do if the police decided to
intervene.

‘I need you people to stop for a
moment,’ ordered one of the officers, displaying his vertical palm.

Still maintaining their rear
advantage, Bradbury leaned forward to his captives and whispered, ‘Move and you’re
dead.’

The small contingent stopped as
one.

Mick was literally shaking in his
boots, but he had the good sense to stand behind and shield his nervousness
from the Traffik pair. He was genuinely relieved to have Bradbury by his side
to handle the situation. Two paramedics wheeling a patient parted the crowd as
they came into view. The trolley circumnavigated the four men and continued on
its path up Pitt Street. Bradbury looked down on an elderly man who appeared to
have passed out.

‘You may proceed now,’ the same
officer said to them.

Following a few anxious moments,
the dubious foursome resumed their path down Pitt Street. Bradbury and Mick
maintained their closeness, forever wary the Traffik pair would attempt to
break free. After turning right into Williams the immediate observation was
less daunting, for the side street was near deserted and a sense of urgency no
longer prevailed. They now had a total grasp on things with the absence of the
bustling public. A gravel path greeted the men as they descended abruptly
toward a distant car park. Upon reaching the entrance Bradbury gave the order
to stop while Charlie and Sol brought the car around. Their next destination
was a ten-minute drive to the farm. Traffik’s payroll had been marginally
reduced, so it would seem.

~ * ~

Having
received clearance from his subordinates and with no apparent threat from
Forbes and co, Marlow decided to press ahead and pass the incriminating
document. Time was of the essence and it would be careless to become
lackadaisical in the belief that Schmitt and Templeton were the only threat in
close proximity. The envelope would have to be passed now and quickly. He
proceeded steadily but cautiously toward the awaiting Piedpiper.

Within arm’s reach of the
intended target, two women suddenly appeared from nowhere in a somewhat intoxicated
and playful mood. Deciding to select one of the men at random, they picked
Victor Marlow. He gave the impression he was a person of means and persuasion.
They explained to him that their money had run out. Could he buy them both a
drink? The confrontation drew ill-timed attention and somehow Marlow had to
quickly decide on how to handle the unforeseen encounter.

Standing between the Piedpiper
and the two freeloaders, he decided to tackle the situation in a conspicuous
way. There was no point ignoring the fact, for the women had already made their
intentions blatantly clear. He placed both hands in each coat pocket in search
of two separate necessities. To the women’s left he knew this pocket contained
some small valued notes and loose change, while to the Piedpiper’s right his
hand held the envelope.

He then deliberately but cleverly
gave the impression he had accidentally dropped the money on the footpath. His
hesitation to retrieve the cash had proven to be a masterstroke in assessing
human behaviour. Both women immediately crouched down to gather the notes and
coins, drawing attention away from him.

Fully aware of Marlow’s intention
to create a diversion, the Piedpiper had already taken possession of the
envelope during the fiasco, which was now deeply buried in a side coat pocket.

With the transaction successfully
completed, Marlow turned to the women and said, ‘There you are. I’m sure that’s
sufficient to buy another round of drinks.’

‘Thanks, we’ll be at the
Esplanade if you wish to join us,’ invited the one who had accumulated the most
money.

With a slight nod of the head,
Marlow knew it was his cue to leave and not be seen standing beside his
regional head for longer than was necessary. In a passing gesture he added, ‘I’ll
consider your offer, ladies.’

~ * ~

Attempting
to gather his troops to check out the men in violet, Forbes appeared livid at
the delayed response shown by his officers.

Peering through his binoculars
from a third-storey building, Burke couldn’t help but be amused at the police
behaviour from below. As a result of Harrison’s earlier sighting of the boat
assassin, Forbes had directed his men to that side of the street, jaywalking
through the parade as they attempted their crossing. With the men in violet now
taking precedence, they were all ordered to return and again the obstacles of
the street spectacular played havoc. He couldn’t decide which was more
entertaining, the carnival procession or the police parade. If you didn’t know
better you’d swear it was a Keystone Cops routine, thought Burke.

‘What in God’s name has taken you
lot so long?’ Forbes protested.

Tired of his superior’s constant
bickering, Parnell responded with a snipe at the pompous detective. ‘In case
you haven’t noticed, it’s not exactly a stroll in the park crossing Pitt
Street!’

‘Spread out and find these guys
in dark blue or bloody violet!’ ordered Forbes. Any news on Bradbury, Buchanan
or Johnson?’

‘We lost sight of Bradbury a
little while ago. Buchanan and Johnson haven’t moved from their original spot
since the parade started.’

Forbes was unaware that his
remaining surveillance would no longer produce any sightings. His principle
target - the Keeper - had eluded him some five minutes earlier, but in fairness
to the constabulary, he thought, the absence of identity amidst this sea of
spectators was always destined for failure. He could now only contemplate what
might have been.

~ * ~

With
the passing of the last float heralding the conclusion of a successful parade,
the traditional walk of the masses down Pitt Street had commenced. Reminiscent
of the crowds converging on the straight following a Formula 1 Grand Prix, the
mob was determined to maintain the festive party mode.

Still very much in the carnival
mood herself, Emily turned to me and asked, ‘Tom, being such a beautiful day I’d
like to wander around the carnival for a bit. We don’t have to return right
away, do we?’

‘Of course not, Em. Let’s check
out the displays and sideshows near the oval. Would you like to join us,
Martha?’

‘Certainly. I’m in no hurry to
get back.’

Departing the main street en
route to the showgrounds, we weren’t alone on our short walk. People in their
droves were heading in the same direction, each willing to participate in the
local exhibits. Descending Williams Street, we crossed an embankment where the
colour and sound of entertainment was enticing.

The buskers were out in force,
each competing for and accumulating any loose change they could muster up from
the passing crowd. There was no shortage of amusements for the young at heart,
including a penny arcade and the traditional rotating clown heads. Children
walked by devouring toffee apples and fairy floss and a Mad Max roller coaster
provided many screams for the unexpected. We occasionally stopped upon hearing
some loudmouth bellow out from a sideshow.

‘The world’s strongest man!’
called one.

‘Be shocked by the greatest freak
show on earth,’ yelled another.

Fortune-tellers, magicians and
jugglers typically and not surprisingly contributed to this avenue of
second-rate exhibitions. A certain way to empty your wallet if you’re gullible
enough, I thought.

At the end of this line of cons a
large crowd had gathered, breaking out in periodical laughter and applause.
Perhaps this was the curiosity show. As if it were a magnet, it drew a steadily
increasing audience.

‘Better check this out,’ I
suggested to Emily and Martha.

Standing amidst these spirited
spectators, a stage stood before us complete with a overhead banner reading:
BEAT THAT STORY - YOUR MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT IN LIFE. A compère holding a
microphone welcomed all comers to approach the podium and deliver their story
within five minutes. Each contestant would be judged by the crowd’s reaction,
with a $100 prize awarded to the winner.

Some chap around thirty years,
encouraged by his mates to step forward and deliver his humiliation, received
an enthusiastic round of applause as he climbed on the stage. The compère
introduced Jason to the crowd as he handed across the microphone.

‘First I must tell you all that I’m
a constable in the police force.’

Wolf whistles and a few stirring
Bronx cheers followed for just being a cop. His embarrassment then followed.

‘On this particular day I was
dressed in full uniform but off duty. To assist my pregnant wife I volunteered
to do the grocery shopping and had parked the family station wagon in one of
those high-rise car parks. Following the supermarket runaround and returning to
my car, I placed all the shopping bags to the rear of the wagon. Driving down
the spiral exit I had only travelled some two levels when the contents from the
shopping bags were being thrown in all directions. I decided to stop the car
and rearrange the groceries so as to make them more secure.’

Jason stopped to acknowledge more
cheers and then continued his story. ‘Having finished the task and shut the
rear door, I couldn’t help but notice the queue of vehicles behind me, all
waiting for me to recommence my descent. In full uniform I climbed back into
the car. To my astonishment I discovered the steering wheel was missing. I
tried to decide what next to do. It suddenly occurred to me that I was actually
sitting in the back seat. In full view of the queuing vehicles I then
transferred myself from the back to the front driver’s seat, amidst the sound
of six car horns simultaneously blaring at my stupidity. The sight of a
red-faced policeman was irresistible.’

Jason’s embarrassment drew a huge
roar of laughter and I couldn’t help but wonder that no one would even think of
doing something like this, let alone carry it out.