Scorpio's Lot (91 page)

‘Enough talk!’ snapped his
captor, nodding to his waiting entourage.

Marlow stood shaking with fear.
Two of Indigo’s lackeys came forward and commenced punching him in the stomach
and side. He fell to the ground, doubling up in pain, while the assailants maintained
their onslaught with a few choice kicks to his back and head. Blood started to
flow from the deeper wounds.

‘Stop!’ called Indigo, who wanted
Marlow to remain conscious for the finale he had planned. This was payback time
for his horrendous crimes against Traffik. Indigo was hell-bent on making his
nemesis suffer to the very end.

‘We’re going on a short trip,
Victor. I have something very special to show you.’

Marlow was pushed into the back
of the Nissan, seated and wedged between two oversized thugs. The trail of
vehicles, including Marlow’s MG, commenced the journey to an unknown
destination. Battered and bleeding profusely, he could only sit and wonder
where Indigo was leading this convoy of runabouts.

Through the many back streets of
the urban sprawl, the Traffik boss led the procession at a conservative pace.
His soon-to-be realised objective was now only minutes away. In leaving behind
this residential landscape, the road descended into a gully that was in stark
contrast to the leafy surrounds of Penton Hills suburbia. The sight took on a
more industrial and commercial aspect where foliage gave way to concrete
jungles filled with factories and offices.

Travelling through this expansive
location of tar and cement, the industrial estates provided neither life nor
movement. At seven pm factories had already closed for the evening, leaving the
district resembling some forgotten concrete ghost town. Only the countless
avenues of security lights provided any clue to these once inhabited rows of premises.
It was an eerie and uninviting place, thought Marlow as he peered through the
side rear window.

Down a further darkened side
street and the line of vehicles slowed to a halt. Marlow saw Indigo emerge from
his car and walk toward a corrugated gate, which appeared to be locked.
Fiddling with a bunch of keys he eventually forced open the conspicuous-looking
padlock. With both gates open he disappeared momentarily behind the high,
galvanised-iron fence. Marlow gazed into the darkness, trying to make sense of
this industrial site. There was no factory to speak of, only an obscure outline
of something resembling a platform and four tall, narrow objects erected in the
background. He was totally mystified as to what this place could be. Why was he
brought here?

The lights were switched on to
expose a large site. Still Marlow was unsure of his captor’s underlying
intention, for the high metal fence still camouflaged the contents that lay
beyond. Indigo then suddenly reappeared and climbed back into his car. All four
vehicles slowly proceeded through the opening, the rear driver stopping to close
the gates behind him. Marlow’s first impressions was a car yard of some kind.

To one end both new and used
models were parked in a row as if displayed for some would-be buyer to inspect.
Further areas were divided into various classified car parts. Chassis,
alternators, starter motors, tyres and gearboxes were stored in the immediate
area. A weigh station occupied the other side. Elevated at the back of the
site, a conveyor ramp led to an industrial compactor. Marlow then realised he
was in a recycling and waste-management plant. Assessing the abundance of
machinery that lay before him, he wondered where all this was leading. He sat
nervously and waited in the rear seat of the Nissan. The vehicle had been
deliberately parked in front of a powerful spotlight, giving the impression he
was about to be interrogated by these hoons.

Eventually forced to exit the
car, Marlow stood motionless in the middle of the yard awaiting his next
instruction. The Traffik leader pressed two nearby buttons resulting in the
sound of machinery starting its repetitive motions. The conveyor belt had
commenced its laborious journey, while the compactor’s hydraulics demonstrated
the power of the ram used for crushing its intended scrap. Indigo then stepped
forward to brief his captive on the plant’s operation and to explain his
intention for bringing him here. The four lackeys remained in the background,
waiting in anticipation of their next directive.

‘Mr Marlow, let me explain a few
things. What you see here is a car recycling plant where parts are
disassembled, decontaminated and classified into three zones depending on the
intended market they are destined for. In other words, before breaking the car
up for scrap metal we need to eliminate any contaminant parts, including the
removal of liquids and gases. Therefore the likes of plastic parts, the wheels
and battery must be removed. We then collect the oil, anti-freeze, brake fluids
and petrol, in addition to extracting the air conditioning and airbag gases.’

Marlow pondered over the
recycling lecture. He wasn’t interested in the operation of some blasted
decontamination process.

Indigo continued. ‘Now for the
interesting part, Victor. Once we’ve discarded all the nasty bits our car is
ready for crushing. The compactor you see to your right is particularly nasty.
Our intended vehicle is placed on the loading ramp, which in turn is
transferred to a crushing platform. This little gem has the ability to crush
both vertically and horizontally. The hydraulic rams are extremely powerful and
are capable of compressing a car into a square cube. Once our compact packet is
small enough it is taken to the steelworks for furnace scrap.’ Indigo obviously
enjoyed seeing the startled look on the Keeper.

Marlow simply glared at his
captor in disbelief.

‘Ah... such an efficient tool.
Victor, I don’t know what your reaction is to all this, but I get goosebumps
running down my spine. It excites me no end. Do you feel the same?’ he taunted
the Scorpio leader.

‘Go to hell!’ retaliated Marlow.

‘Now let’s see. We’ve often told
that things come in threes, so let’s recap for a moment. We’re had our
educational bit, our interesting bit and now it’s time for our fun bit. Victor,
you’re going to provide our amusement tonight by getting crushed.’

‘That’s fucking insane!’ screamed
a terrified Marlow.

‘Oh, you think so? Tell me,
Victor, was the torture and murder of my two men displayed for all the world to
see insane?’

‘I’ve already told you that was
the work of the Piedpiper!’

‘Defiant to the end, aren’t we?
Your regional head will not escape the clutches of Traffik. Pity you won’t be
around to forewarn him though.’ Indigo leered at his nemesis.

‘You can’t do this!’

‘I’m afraid you have no choice.
Your time is up, Victor.’

‘I’ll give you anything. Name
your figure!’ yelled the Keeper in one last attempt to save his own skin.

‘No amount of money will
compensate for what you’ve done. However, I’m a fair man, Victor, so I’ll give
you a choice.’

‘Anything, just name it!’

‘Very well. Either you’re crushed
alive or take a bullet to the head first. Your call.’

Marlow remained silent.

‘Okay, enough of this shit. I’ll
make up your mind for you,’ Indigo said. ‘We’ll use the gun.’

Marlow squirmed and let out a
series of hallowing cries.

The Traffik leader continued with
his theatrics. ‘I’m going to count down from five and then pull the trigger.’
He commenced calling the numbers. ‘Five, four, three, two, one,’ taunted Indigo
and then deliberately fired into the night sky.

The reaction, predictably, was a
pitiful sight. Marlow collapsed to the ground amidst the sounds of
uncontrollable whimpering. Indigo had spared him, not out of pity, but through
sheer revenge in seeing his sworn enemy suffer the ultimate humiliation.

He looked down on his captive,
pondered for a moment and then declared, ‘Before we all indulge in the main
course, I believe an entree is in order. Tell me, Victor, which hand do you
write with?’

Marlow remained silent and
continued to lie on the damp ground.

‘Come now, the answer can only be
one of two. It’s either left or right,’ teased the Traffik leader.

Still the Scorpio leader
persisted with his defiance, refusing to cooperate.

‘Very well, then you leave me no
choice, Victor. Others will have to make up your mind for you. Since most
people are right-handed we’ll assume this to be your preferred side,’ declared
the Traffik lord and master.

Indigo snapped his fingers and
then spoke in a foreign tongue. His lackey stepped forth with a machete and
what appeared to be a small towel. He then lent down and proceeded to
straighten Marlow’s arm, in addition to extending and fanning the fingers on
his right hand. A diamond clustered gold ring was removed from the index
finger. Marlow suddenly snapped out of an apparent preoccupied state of mind
and his immediate reaction was panic. He wriggled and screamed on sighting the
machete. Indigo assisted by holding the arm while his lackey brought down the
blade in one swift action.

The damage was immediate. All
four fingertips were severed, their ends becoming airborne through the sheer
force of the downward thrust. Like pebbles tossed in the air, they landed
nearly two metres from the hand. Marlow’s scream was unrelenting. A towel was
wrapped around his hand to lessen the outpour of blood.

Marlow’s howls were beginning to
irritate his captor. It was time to press on with the finale. Indigo
deliberately fired a further bullet into the night air and now all was in readiness
for his so-called main course. He continued with the theatrics.

‘No, on second thoughts a bullet
is not appropriate. Too damn quick and takes away the entertainment value. I’d
prefer to see you suffer till the very end. Value for money, some may call it.
Wouldn’t you agree, Victor?’

The prospect was beyond
comprehension. Marlow continued to crouch on all fours clutching the
blood-soaked towel. No words were forthcoming, only the sound of moaning and
sobbing could be heard. He had been reduced to a pathetic and appalling state.

The Traffik boss then instructed
two lumbering thugs to step forward and place the man in his MG. With the
Keeper and the deceased bodyguard in their respective seats, the sports car was
then pushed forward until it rested on the crushing platform. Marlow’s piercing
eyes reflected a look of insanity. He again appeared to be in a preoccupied
state of mind as if oblivious to his imminent fate.

Indigo immediately programmed the
controls to commence the crushing processes. The sound of the mechanics began
its laborious routine, much to the delight of the crazed observers. Like music
to the ears, reflected the Traffik leader, who was going to make sure he
witnessed every minute detail. The powerful hydraulic rams then began their downward
thrust, drawing closer to the rooftop.

As if on cue with the pending
destruction, Marlow suddenly snapped out of his trance. Shock was now replaced
with the sound of unrelenting screams. Any chance of escaping via the driver’s
door had now passed, for the groaning mechanics had commenced crushing the car.
Metal quickly began to crumble. In a frozen time frame Marlow’s look was one of
utter desperation. This horrific sight was not seen as such by Indigo, who
relished the moment with a passion. Marlow was still visible from the shoulders
up, his head now being forced forward from the above pressure. The face of the
Scorpio leader began the transition of mutilation. Slowly but steadily his
skull was becoming rearranged. Cabin space was forever diminishing as his head
finally gave way to the immense descending impact.

Marlow’s cries of anguish finally
ceased with the crushing of his skull. Blood gushed out of his mouth as the
distorted head began to flatten out. The hydraulic rams crushed all before it, the
dominant sound of straining and twisted metal eclipsing any possible sound of
human life. The body of Victor Marlow had disappeared from sight, with the roof
now flattened to door level. On the completion of the downward thrust the
hydraulics would then commence their horizontal procedure until the car was
reduced to the size of a cube no larger than a standard refrigerator.