Bony Nominates an Ally
“NOW, Maddoch,” Bony said, “relax and let me think.”
Including ArthurFiddler, and Igor Mitski who lay dead and still unburied, seven men convicted of murder and sentenced to long terms of imprisonment had been released, abducted and conveyed to these caverns. And a woman who had been acquitted of the charge of murder also had been abducted and brought here.
In every case the release waseffected before the expiration of the sentence imposed by the court. In one case, that of Mark Brennan, the prisoner had been released despite his papers having been markedNeverTo Be Released. The ethics of these persons in authority in subverting the sentence imposed by the constituted court was a matter of no official concern to a police officer.
Facts were what Bony sought. The apprehension of lawbreakers was his job, and this he often reiterated. The channels through which political influences could work to achieve the release of any of the seven murderers were unknown to him, and, in any case, were not in his territory.
Of official concern to him was that these seven convicted murderers on being released were re-imprisoned without the authority of the State, and in a place not authorised by the State. These men were made free citizens although bound for a period by certain conditions, and that they had not abided by the conditions had been due to circumstances wholly beyond their control.
Within days of release, each had been coshed or drugged, conveyed hundreds of miles by road, then most likely by air and lowered into these caverns where living conditions were far worse than those ruling in a modern Australian jail.
They were provided with food, tinned and dehydrated, a stove to cook the food, and oil to maintain half a dozen lamps. They were given straw-stuffed mattresses and blankets and the common medical remedies but the doctor among them was refused any instruments. Although not denied bare necessities, including hair-cutters and safety razors, they were denied replacement of footwear and mental food by way of books and papers.
The delivery of supplies was irregular and once, for a period of five days, they had been without kerosene for the stove and lamps, following which Jenks had been appointed custodian of the fuel and light stocks. By what type of transport they and the supplies had been conveyed, the prisoners were not in agreement, one saying that even in his drugged state he believed he saw the lifting blades of a helicopter; and another thought he had been brought all the way by truck. At times, when supplies only were brought, they thought it must be by truck, judging by the noise of the engine, but on this point Bonywas sure that transportation had been by aircraft.
“Tell me,” he said, “just what occurs when supplies are delivered.”
“They always come at night,” replied Maddoch. “We hear them coming-the engine I mean-long before it actually gets here. The first thing that happens is that a powerful torch is switched on and directed down into the hall. Then a man says: ‘All of you below, show yourselves.’ Maybe the reason for that is to prove how many of us are still alive. A long time ago, Doctor Havant objected to this, and was told that the supplies would be estimated on the number of prisoners showing themselves. The doctor continued to object, and no one showed himself. Then no supplies were lowered, and we were on short rations and practically starving when they came again.
“Since then we all show ourselves. The stuff is lowered in sacks, and the oil comes in steel containers holding four gallons. The empty cans are hauled up. Once Jenks caught hold of the rope and attempted to climb up by it, but he was told he was asking to be knocked on the head. Another time Mitski held the rope and refused to let it be drawn up. The men above fired a warning shot, and that settled that.”
According to Maddoch, boredom was their greatest enemy, especially when convinced there was no possible escape excepting by the chasm which had claimed Fiddler. After him, no one had dared it, partly because in their minds was the story related to them of Fiddler’s terror of the isolation above.
Doctor Havant had a profound influence on Igor Mitski, whom he joined, and on those to come after. Maddoch averred that Dr. Havant saved them from degenerating to the level of animals. He had hypnotic powers of a kind which could subdue Riddell and Jenks, but not Mitski, Brennan or the girl. Maddoch said he could resist Havant’s hypnotic power, but admitted he had realised that only a strong leader could save this small community from the depths.
“You know, Inspector, I believe that,” he went on earnestly. “The doctor has a never-ending library of stories; it really is a library. We listen to him telling stories, for so long as he will, such as Steinbeck’sGrapes of Wrath and Buchan’sThirty-Nine Steps. He’s like Scheherazade who saved her life by telling the tales of the Arabian Nights, and if you close your eyes and just listen, you can almost live the stories. He has saved our lives, because even Riddell came to understand that these caverns hold something worse than perpetual darkness.”
“And yet there are fights like that we witnessed today,” Bony interposed.
“Oh, yes. Doctor Havant does nothing to stop them. He says the steam must escape through a safety valve; that the bursts of violence are the valve. These oppressive caverns have subjugated what virility we had; they do not exactly encourage theupshoot of the sexual urge. We are sane enough to realise that the first to attack the woman could be killed by the others.
“Igor Mitski died because of her. He was never any more than polite and friendly, but she teased him, and the others knew it. I’ve seen her encourage Mark, and even Riddell’s ape-like advances. She invites murder-not her own, of course. I think she aims to have us kill one another until the best man wins. Meanwhile, she believes she has full control of us all, including you.”
“What has she said about her own case?” asked Bony, and Maddoch’s face expressed disgust.
“Said she killed her husband because she was sick of him and his lies, yet boasts how she put it over the jury, the press and the public; boasts how good an actress she is. You don’t believe, really believe, I killed Mitski, do you?”
Bony turned to gaze steadily at Clifford Maddoch. To become the manager of a branch of an important wool firm is not an executive height to which a weak character can climb, and he tried to see Maddoch as he must have been before the final straw was laid upon his back. Mentally he would have been dynamic. He would have been expert on the many classes of wool, a man whose judgment was sound, and whose decisions were quick and accurate.
Once he had arrived at the moment of decision that no longer could he suffer his wife’s nagging voice, he would immediately begin to plan how to remove it. And now -the once important executive, pleading to be believed he hadn’t killed again. The yellow light revealed the large eyes, the colourless complexion, the trembling mouth of a man shocked by mental torture, racked by disgrace and punishment, and exposed to human violence and depravity. Execution would have been merciful.
“I shall answer that question if you promise not even to hint of it to the others.” he said, and was troubled by the eagerness with which Maddoch assented. “Unless you have made a pair of stilts, Clifford, you couldn’t have killed Igor Mitski.”
Maddoch sighed audibly. “Thank you indeed, Inspector.”
“Then let us be allies, Maddoch. I need an ally. You will understand that my position isn’t, shall we say, normal, in relation to all of you. I need support, discreetly given, in things I must do and say; a secret ally who would keep me up to date on an intrigue hostile to me. How does this appeal to you?”
“You may count on me.”
“Then I shall rely on you. Tell me, whatd’you think of Doctor Havant?”
“A brilliant mind somewhere or other out of gear. I say that because I don’t think he is unbalanced, just kind of out of gear. Maybe that applies to us all, yourself excepted. Life here is unnatural, and especially so for the doctor. Prison, Inspector, by comparison was heaven.”
“I can believe that, Maddoch.”
“Down here we are unable to get away from each other. And worse, we are unable to get away from ourselves, excepting those precious times when Doctor Havant becomes our story-teller. Accustomed to mental distractions such as books, the stage and the cinema, the newspapers, modern man quickly degenerates if deprived of such escapism. That is a threat to us all.”
“Yes, that is true,” conceded Bony, and stood.
“Hullo, that dog has run off again. Busy, isn’t she? Now you see her; now you don’t.”
Lucy was being petted when they entered the ‘hall’. A cloud masked the sun and the interior light was dim, the domed ceiling invisible. Doctor Havant and Riddell were sitting on the rock ledge, separated by something about three feet wide, and were moving lumps of rock. On Bony crossing to them, he found that the lumps were pieces and the game was draughts, the board being marked on the rock base by scoring with a knife point.
Both players being gravely intent, Bony moved to sit with Mark Brennan who, a little too casually, slipped a roughly square shaving of rock under his right thigh. He had been doing something to the piece of rock with a table-knife which at Bony’s approach he employed to chip tobacco. Bony sat beside him, his back to the rock wall.
“You remember Jim Ord, Inspector?” asked Brennan.
“Yes, I do. Why?”
“He was in Goulburn with me. Used to tell us he’d have got away withmurderin ’ a Swede up near Milparinka if you hadn’ttook a hand.”
“Ord was clever, Mark. He made only two mistakes. Did he tell you what he said after I had him arrested?”
“Yes; just like him, too. He told you he wasn’t whingeing about it. Said that when a bloke breaks the law, he is gambling against the cops, and it’s a fair go. He was proud of what you said, too. It was, ‘Ord, you really extended me.’ ”
“I remember,” Bony admitted. “He was a good sportsman, yet knocking a man down with a loaded bottle and then kicking him to death isn’t sporting.”
“Well, look at what Stassan did to Ord’s little girl. I don’t hold with that sort of thing. Stassan got it just where he deserved it most.”
“D’youreally think, Mark, that the best way to get even is to kill?” asked Bony.
“With a bloke like Stassan, too right I do. And so do most of the other blokes in Goulburn. Queers and pimps and rapists ought to be hanged automatically, and when Ord booted Stassan to hell, heoughtagot a knighthood. Thank Kelly we haven’t a Stassan here with us. He wouldn’t last long.”
“Would you place Igor Mitski in that class?”
“No, Inspector. He just slapped the kid down a bit too hard, that’s all. You know, sometimes you got to give a bit of licence. There’s Mitski king-hit and belted around Europe. He’s a musician and a top singer, and what happens when he comes to Australia? Stuck away out west, teaching a stupid brat brought up to the idea that she’s the squatter’s daughter, and the rest of the world is scum. I don’t blame Mitski forslappin ’ her down. It was just his bad luck helarrupped her too hard. What’s to do about him now?”
“The circumstances being what they are, the body will have to be disposed of without the usual legal formalities.”
“Any ideawho crashed him?”
“Not yet, but I shall, Mark.”
“I know. We all know that when you start you keep on your feet. One of us killed Mitski, and he must know you will get him, sooner or later. His only hope is to do you in before you cotton on to him.” Brennan smiled, and that he could smile was a revelation. “If he bumped you before we got out of here, before we got back to home and glory, I’d be really vicious for him.”
“Have you any ideas on who killed Mitski?”
Brennan shook his head.
“Have you any ideas on why he was killed?”
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“Against Institute rules to help the cops.”
“Institute rules?”
“Yes, Institute rules, Inspector. The Institute of Released Murderers. You know, your Fellowship, remember? Here, this is your certificate.”
From beneath his leg Mark Brennan produced the thin slab oflimestock rock. He had scored plainly with the knife:
D. I. N. Bonaparte,