Scorpio's Lot (90 page)

The chase again picked up
momentum, now leading its speed demons through a city bypass tunnel which
opened onto a wide boulevard that ran its course beside the Templer River. The
two cars roared pass a number of commuters who each received their fair share
from a blasting horn. From across the water Marlow spotted two cars travelling
in the same direction and at an impatient rate. He knew immediately that his
pursuer had called for backup, which would now test all the cunning, driving
skills and directional knowledge he could muster. It was mandatory to choose
the correct route, preferably a path that would keep his pursuers’ backup team
at bay.

Predictably Marlow chose to
divert his course away from the river, enabling him to increase a respectable
distance from the second set of pursuers. The Nissan, however, had now gained
ground to the point where he couldn’t see its headlights in the rear vision
mirror. Viewed from either end the two vehicles appeared locked together.

Marlow was now beginning to feel
the heat and in a fleeting moment he pondered as to the whereabouts of the
police. They were conspicuous by their absence. Perhaps the inclusion of the
cops would be the preferred option. As a result, he decided it was high time
they take the law into their own hands. Believing the use of firearms would act
as a deterrent, Marlow instructed his bodyguard to retrieve a gun from the
glovebox. A silencer was fitted to lessen the public’s attraction.

Winding down his side window and
leaning through its somewhat limited opening, Max took aim amidst the erratic
zigzags, braking and cornering. He fired into the night air, but the bullet’s
resultant path was hopelessly off target. He fired a second that was equally
ineffective. Slipping back into his seat and rewinding the window, Max decided
to wait for a straight section of road with the intention of shooting at the
Nissan’s tyres. The target was simply too difficult while in bumper-to-bumper
pursuit.

Approaching a red light, Marlow
decided to risk all as he ploughed through the intersection to escape Indigo.
He narrowly missed a courier van and was forced to apply the brakes. To his
disappointment the Nissan was equally determined to maintain the ascendancy.
With Indigo still hot on his trail, he now found himself in unfamiliar
territory. The terrain had become undulating and the roads considerably
narrower. Up hill and down dale, the two vehicles pushed relentlessly forward,
to the point where certain crests enabled the cars to become airborne. With
every descent the MG and Nissan slammed heavily on the asphalt with a punishing
thud.

Up ahead a large truck was
carelessly parked, its dominant presence halfway across the roadway. The
restrictive opening would test the driving skills of both drivers. Due to the
other vehicle’s size the 4WD clipped the corner of the truck, smashing the side
rear mirror into a hundred pieces. The adrenalin and testing of nerves had
Marlow in total overdrive. At this rate he wondered how much more he could
handle.

Braking hard, he took a left onto
a major thoroughfare and was immediately confronted with heavier traffic.
Squealing tyres and screeching brakes accompanied the zigzag maneuvers being
performed along the three-lane arterial drag. Marlow had to find an exit road
and quickly, for it was sheer madness to depend on the traffic’s awareness of
the situation.

Travelling alongside the centre
strip was distinctly to Marlow’s disadvantage. He quickly glanced across to the
outside neighbouring lanes and could immediately see he was confronted with a
difficult challenge. The evening peak hour commuters had occupied the two lanes
in a single-file arrangement. Intrusion was virtually impossible unless he was
prepared to sideswipe a vehicle or two in the attempt. This he decided to rule
out, believing he would more than likely cause a pile-up due to someone’s
inability to control their steering. A break in the traffic beckoned around two
hundred metres ahead. There was sufficient opening to accommodate the MG,
should he choose to swing across. Marlow floored the accelerator to gain the
ascendancy. With opportunity presenting itself he quickly cut across the two
temporary vacant lanes, oblivious to the whereabouts of the aggressive Nissan
Patrol. He now focused on the first available exit.

In realising his sizable 4WD
stood little chance of repeating the MG’s successful negotiation, Indigo
suddenly braked to allow the left-hand lanes to clear. In losing the initiative
his patience was tested as he had to wait for the slower traffic to pass. In a
tight squeeze he pushed his way into the central lane, effectively causing the
car to the rear to swerve sideways. He had one more deviation to negotiate. To
his annoyance the traffic drove closer and slower on the outside lane.

But this was no time for
hesitation. He swung the wheel hard, forcing a bright-yellow VW Beetle to
encroach on the emergency laneway. The young woman driver, whose eyes looked
remarkably similar to Marty Feldman’s, instantly dropped her mobile phone and
screamed.

The Traffik supremo had reached
his desired lane. He immediately pulled across to the emergency corridor and
pumped the accelerator pedal to overtake this row of Sunday drivers. Looking
ahead, he could see the MG climbing an exit road and immediately knew he had to
reach the incline before the lights turned green. With absolutely no regard for
the slowing commuters, he swung back into the funeral procession to allow for
his negotiated departure from the arterial. Indigo had made up sufficient
ground to again be back in the hunt. Forced to brake and stop, only three
vehicles separated the racing duo, thanks mainly to the red light ahead.

The traffic began to flow slowly,
increasing to a moderate speed on reaching level ground. The road provided
sufficient width, and with no side-parked cars to create an obstruction the
race for dominance once more reignited. The two drug gurus immediately pulled
out and floored their respective pedals. Tyres squealed in adjusting to the
tempo of the motor revs. Fumes billowed across a dozen windscreens, creating
havoc amongst the remaining drivers. They could only hear the commotion,
wondering if there was about to be a smash amidst this smokescreen of
confusion.

Marlow suddenly diverted left in hope
the trailing cloud would serve to give Indigo the slip. He had chosen a quiet
suburban street that wound its way through a typical middle-class
neighbourhood. The tree-lined avenue offered numerous crossroads, each complete
with a circular, raised garden bed. For whatever reason, Marlow chose to press
forward and reach the end of the roadway. He went over a speed hump and
approached the second last roundabout, only to see the sudden arrival of a car
to his right. Ignoring the give way, he maneuvered through the tight
semi-circle to screams of abuse coming from the short-tempered driver. The two
cars nearly collided. Marlow caught a glimpse of a passenger leaning out the
window waving a gun and immediately knew the first of Indigo’s backup team had
arrived. The trailing 4WD continued to make up ground.

A hail of bullets followed,
punishing the MG’s bonnet and side paneling. Their relentless gunfire exploded
the windscreen, spraying a thousand particles on its occupants. Max retrieved
his gun and commenced the exchange through the convenience of the windowless
opening. Amidst the barrage of retaliation a bullet caught the bodyguard’s left
shoulder, causing him to drop his weapon on the floor. The pain was intense and
blood ran freely from the wound, soaking his clothing. He lent down to recover
the gun and resumed his protection of the Keeper. Gunfire was now evident from
the following Nissan. A bullet had penetrated the back window. The dual
onslaught was proving difficult to compete with.

Whilst hopelessly outnumbered,
the bodyguard could still manage the use of his good arm. Marlow’s protector
was an able marksman whose skills made him a formidable opponent. Max scored a
direct hit, marginally reducing the odds. An unrelenting retaliation continued
down the tight and winding suburban roadway. Marlow’s frustration was
undeniable in wanting to assist his bodyguard, but the need to steer and
control the sports car throughout the pursuit overruled any further possible
role. Lump it or like it, he was totally dependent on Max with the firearm and
his own apparent driving skills to rid this lot.

And then the unthinkable
occurred. A bullet penetrated Max’s skull, the deadly missile causing the
bodyguard to slump forward on the padded dashboard. The direct hit instantly
killed Max Kirby. Horrified at the loss of his devoted colleague Marlow quickly
retrieved the gun, which had conveniently fallen into his lap.

A bullet suddenly smashed the
passenger side window, sending Marlow into a panic attack. The resultant noise
frightened the Scorpio boss, since he was now alone in this deadly pursuit. The
glass fragments smothered him, causing him to momentarily discard his driving
duties. The MG veered sharply to the right, resulting in the front wheel
catching a raised pavement and causing the sports car to spin continuously and
come to a halt.

Marlow was now in a dilemma, for
up ahead he could see a fast-approaching panel van that undoubtedly was about
to contribute to the carnage. To his rear, the Nissan Patrol was braking hard
to prevent any retreating exit. The loop was now complete and any escape route
had effectively been cut off. Cornered, with no way out, he conceded he had run
his race, but he wasn’t about to give up without a fight.

The door was immediately opened
and Marlow quickly crouched behind its limited protection. Indigo was to his
rear, with only the back of the car effectively creating a shield. His dilemma
was made more awkward since the low rear end blocked his view beyond the door.
With no choice but to lie low, he had become a sitting duck. A brief exchange
of gunfire followed. A bullet caught his lower leg, conspicuously in full view
below the car door. Confused and frightened, he somehow managed to crawl back
into the car, despite the handicap of the gun wound. He sat contemplating his
fate.

Indigo cautiously stepped forth
from his 4WD, knowing full well his enemy was still armed. Was this Marlow’s
way of declaring surrender? He called out for the Keeper to relinquish his gun
and throw the weapon on the roadside. Marlow reluctantly obliged. Indigo then
issued orders for a body search in case a second weapon was concealed.
Following clearance, the Traffik boss approached the MG’s driver’s side and
arrogantly spun his fingers to imply he wanted the window wound down. He then
stood waiting for his instruction to be carried out.

‘Mr Marlow, I presume?’

‘Ah ... yes.’

‘Please step out of the car,’
Indigo ordered in a quiet but firm voice.

Marlow opened his door and
awkwardly arose from the low-lying vehicle. He grimaced from the painful leg
wound. His large frame seemed in stark contrast to the snug interior of the
sports car. Four of Indigo’s lackeys stood still in the background.

‘My name is Indigo, supreme
leader of the Traffik syndicate. Tell me, Victor, does this mean anything to
you?’

‘No ... should it?’

‘Come now, don’t take me for a
fool. You should know who I am.’

‘Oh, and why is that?’

‘Your squealing to the police, in
addition to the imprisonment and unspeakable acts of cruelty and murder carried
out against the Traffik syndicate.’

‘You have the wrong person!’
Marlow replied abruptly.

‘Then would you please enlighten
me as to who the responsible person is?’ queried the calm but forceful Indigo.

‘The Piedpiper issued orders to
carry out that business,’ responded Marlow, quick to divert the point of blame.

‘The Piedpiper?’

‘Yes, my southern regional head.
I wasn’t aware of these matters until after the event.’ He was desperate to
avoid responsibility.

‘And who is this Piedpiper?’

‘That I won’t divulge. You know
the rules.’

‘Never mind, there are ways and
means of finding out. You are pathetic, Victor. Or should I call you the
Keeper? You stand there groveling and pleading your innocence when clearly you
must accept responsibility for your syndicate’s actions.’

‘But... but...’

‘Shut the fuck up! You haven’t
even got the balls to come clean. Instead you blame others for your atrocities.’

‘What are you going to do with
me?’ Marlow was now desperate and frightened of the consequences.