Scorpio's Lot (84 page)

‘Brigit, is that you?’ she yelled
into the darkness.

No reply. The torch continued to
shine in the direction of the appropriate tree. The individual refused to step
forward, most likely scared and unsure of what all this commotion would lead
to. I decided on a different approach.

‘Brigit, it’s Tom. I have both
Helen and Emily with me to take you home.’

‘Please come out, dear!’ pleaded
Helen.

With the light still focused, the
lone figure cautiously emerged trembling with fear and cold. It was
unmistakably Brigit, looking thoroughly exhausted and still with her arm in
plaster. She stepped forward, still a little apprehensive with her captive
audience.

‘Is that you, Helen?’ she
murmured.

‘Brigit!’ screamed Helen.

Ignoring her stepmother’s
advances, Brigit immediately ran toward Emily and me. In an open display of
affection she hugged us both, the tears freely running down each cheek as the
emotional outpour touched us deeply. Emily began crying, unable to hold back
her feelings. I thought it odd that Brigit’s initial response was not directed
toward Helen.

Eventually gathering some
composure, she looked up to see her stepmother waiting in line to share the
emotional reunion and relief. Helen hugged Brigit’s cold body tightly. Her fractured
arm was momentarily forgotten. The tears flowed freely from both women.
Although a somewhat delayed reaction, it was the first time I had seen Brigit
express any compassion toward Helen.

Despite the anguish and fatigue
she at least looked in reasonable condition. Her abductors had obviously fed
her well throughout the ordeal. Like a child seeking affection, she buried her
head into Helen’s embrace and released an uncontrollable sob of despair and
heartfelt feeling. Her bottled emotion was now being released from its deeply
embedded innermost domain. After all the torment, trauma and the realisation
she may never get out alive, Brigit now felt reassured to be once again in the
presence of familiar people.

Brigit then sighted the
proprietor a further two steps back and seemed puzzled by his attendance.

Sensing her confusion, Peter
explained his presence. ‘Hello, Brigit. I’m the person who saw you earlier, but
I couldn’t persuade you to come with me to meet the others.’

‘I’m so sorry. I thought you were
one of those syndicate people coming to take me back to that wretched cell they
kept me in.’

The proprietor didn’t appear
offended, stating all had worked out well in the end. We thanked Peter for his
help and advised him we would return in the near future to express our
gratitude for his Good Samaritan act. The priority now lay in getting Brigit
back to Pedley and into some warm, clean clothes. The drama and details of her
kidnapping could wait. I would inform the Pedley Police Station about tonight’s
ordeal on my return.

~ * ~

The
following morning I decided not to pursue the details of Brigit’s kidnapping,
instead leaving this in the hands of the police who I had informed late last
night. Besides, Brigit would be in need of rest and to have some time with
Helen before the rest of us started probing her with our umpteen dozen
questions.

Dismissing Forbes’ boastful
comment about the use of a photocopier, I decided to press forward with my
original plan to buy a Pedley street map. I could only hope they were printed
to the scale specified by Gordon Findlay. When I contacted Arthur and Hamish
they both jumped at the opportunity to pursue this mystery a step further. It
was agreed we would all meet at the Pitt Street newsagent in ten minutes.

‘Back soon, Em, but give me a
call should Helen phone,’ I said as I left the house.

Downtown the two lads had already
commenced looking for the intended map as I made my entrance. Surprisingly, the
selection was exceptionally good, but rather than open each map to check the
scale I decided to ask for assistance.

‘Tom, that scale’s fairly
standard for street layout. Let me come over and help you,’ volunteered the
attendant.

The assistant gazed at the
variety on sale, initially reaching for a Purser edition printed some five
years ago, but still very much accurate with today’s outline. On opening the
map the scale was unfortunately not to our liking.

‘Is the scale that important?’
she asked with a puzzled look.

‘Yes!’ responded the three of us
simultaneously to the assistant’s surprise.

‘All right then, I’ll look
further,’ she replied, pondering over the remaining selection.

She retrieved a Tresize edition
of similar vintage which, like its counterpart, still managed to contain
accurate information in line with today’s format. The scale was finally exact
and in recognition Hamish blew a victorious whistle. The young lady was
beginning to think we were a trio of halfwits. I made the payment and we
proceeded next door to La Porta’s Cafe, an ideal location to spread out the map
and discuss the contents over a hot cappuccino. When we sat down I informed
Arthur and Hamish about Scorpio releasing Brigit, the trip to Coxwold and her
eventual return to Helen’s house.

‘In what condition did you find
the lass?’ enquired Hamish.

‘Emotionally drained and
confused. Her physical state appeared reasonable, but she’s in need of plenty
of rest. Helen’s taking her to the hospital this morning for a checkup.’

‘Did you inform the police?’

‘Yes, I spoke to Forbes late last
night and the bugger accused me for not advising him earlier,’ I acknowledged.

‘Bloody typical of the man! That
bastard’s never grateful,’ said Arthur.

‘I tried to explain the syndicate’s
warning not to alert the police, but he just wouldn’t listen.’

‘I would enjoy thumping that
prick!’ Hamish remonstrated.

‘Okay, but now back to the matter
in hand. Did you bring the three-pointed star template?’ I asked Arthur.

‘Yes.’ He reached into his side
pocket and retrieved a plastic transparent creation.

I spread the map and suggested we
all sit to one side of the table to eliminate neck strain. Arthur produced the
template, but unfortunately he had overlooked bringing a drawing pin to act as
a central pivot. We asked the cafe attendant if there was a pin to be found, which
she obligingly placed on our table a minute later. Our coffees had arrived and
all was in readiness to delve further into this two hundred year old puzzle.

‘Okay guys, here we go,’ I
commenced with a degree of enthusiasm. ‘Our central star well is Pitt and
Williams Streets. Assuming they mean the intersection, we’ll put our pin
through point four and place it just off-centre since the article implied
alongside.’

We spun the star, but without the
aid of a pencil to commence a circular outline. It was far too premature to
start marking the map assuming our first attempt would be the correct circle.
Today was primarily to get an idea of what possible area we were dealing with.
We watched and followed a triangular point on its circular journey. From the central
star well, the circle encompassed a circumference of between three and four
present day street blocks. By adjusting point four and relocating our pivot
point to the other side of the intersection, our immediate circular area
remained distinctly similar, but with one noticeable exception. Our second such
circle had moved the elusive points one, two and three to a spot three to five
building sites away from the initial landmarks. We quickly learnt the
importance of the central star well or point four being pivoted in the precise
location. Anything off-centre would conjure up a multiple number of incorrect
land sites. It appeared this task had now provided a greater challenge than
first thought.

‘We can’t tell the authorities to
start excavating when in all probability we could be as much as three, four or
five sites out in any one direction,’ I declared with a slightly agitated tone.

‘You’re right, Tom. I think we
need to go down and look around the intersection,’ Hamish suggested.

‘There’s so much more to this
puzzle. Even if we locate the true point four location, then we have the
additional burden of finding points one, two and three on the true circular
line,’ said Arthur with a sigh.

‘That may be so, but one step at
a time, Arthur. We’re not done yet, this is only the beginning,’ I encouraged.

We finished our coffees and
walked down to the intersection. There was nothing spectacular about the corner
of Pitt and Williams. It was your typical country main street intersection
where some of the town’s leading retailers were located. Traffic lights
operated here, together with one other set which intersected Pitt with Covert.

We stood and observed the tarred
road surfaces on both streets. Not surprisingly, there were no telling signs
from a bygone period. There were no unusual landmarks, no evidence of some
ancient relic that once stood in a specific spot and no sign of any undulating
road surface that appeared out of place.

Johnson and Buchanan suddenly
came into view on the other side of the road. They stopped at the intersection
and pointed at the roadway, singling out a couple of nearby buildings. A
conversation followed and then further directional indicators were again raised
with emphasis on the two intersecting streets. The lights turned green and the
two men walked the pedestrian crossing on an easterly course and then
disappeared from sight. How odd, I thought. If I didn’t know better, I would
swear they had arrived at these crossroads for the very same reason we had.

Our search was disappointing, to
say the least. We simply could not find any evidence to support the whereabouts
of some past well that was once sunk on this site. I would revisit this
intersection for a second and closer look when time permitted. Round one of our
investigation remained solely the secret of our ancestors and that of the
Piedpiper.

~ * ~

ithout
the fanfare of helicopters and chauffeured limousines as per his previous
visit, the Keeper had chosen to arrive in Pedley the more conventional way. On
this occasion a sporty MG in the company of his loyal bodyguard, Max Kirby, had
become the desired transport. Ushered straight to the underground headquarters
for a meeting with his southern operation, Marlow was surprised to be entering
the well-guarded and restricted area during daylight hours. He had anticipated
an evening gathering that would be less conspicuous. The Piedpiper, Neville
Bradbury and Sol were in waiting for their supreme leader. They could foresee a
tense meeting in light of Brad Morgan’s sudden departure.

‘We need to recruit a further
person,’ prompted the Piedpiper.

‘Not at this point in time. You
cannot possibly justify an extra hand,’ claimed the Keeper.

‘You don’t seem to fully
understand our situation,’ the regional head insisted.

‘On the contrary, I do have a
grasp of the facts. You no longer have the burden of Brigit O’Neill to look
after and city supply has effectively been cut off for two weeks now,’ Marlow
stubbornly insisted.