Milkshake (11 page)

The change in momentum woke Katherine up. “Why are we
stopping?”

“I want to read that sign.”

At the entrance to a gated track was a large white wooden
board. It read, 'This forest is managed by Cowood Industries.
Private Property. Keep Out.' It listed the number of successive
plantings, beginning in 1980, the most recent in 1996.

“So, here’s the thing. Over the past few years the American
Government has secretly invested in all this forestry, using it for
normal industries like building and furniture, but all this time
they have also been buying up the land beneath the trees and using
it to plant their own future fuel source. It’s so simple and
perfectly legitimate. You don’t have to invade anyone for it. You
don’t even have to buy it from anyone else. In fact the people who
used to own the land, or manage it for them, are probably grateful
for the investment.”

“So what’s wrong with it, then?”

By now they were out of the car and standing by the side of
the road, the almost imperceptible ticking of the engine drowned
out by the exotic call of bellbirds somewhere deep in the forest.
The smell of fresh pine wafted gently on the cool air.

This was the epitome of the clean, green image which had
attracted them to New Zealand in the first place. David gazed
around, breathing in the crisp clean air, trying to convince
himself there was something wrong with this picture. He lifted his
head higher and took a deep breath. “It’s because of the secrecy.
Have you ever heard of this as an alternative fuel source?” His
wife, the science teacher, the one who was meant to know about
these things, shook her head, still looking puzzled.

Katherine stood admiring the scenery but David was already
back inside the car, this time in the passenger seat, looking
through the tourist literature that had been placed, with some
apparent forethought, in the glove box. He had already scanned over
the maps but now they drew his attention, not for the tourist
destinations, but for the amount of land, according to the legend,
given over to trees. Ten per cent of the entire land mass of the
North Island alone was forestry. He dug deeper. Motel leaflets, a
mobile phone recharge card, and clipped to the inside of the small
card folder containing all this paper, five one hundred dollar
notes. “Look at this,” he said, holding up the money, “Somebody is
helping us avoid using the card. This isn’t a usual car rental
perk.”

A distant hum made him look back down the road. Through the
haze shimmering above its surface, David could see a shape, equally
liquid in the late morning warmth. It was a car moving swiftly
towards them. They had been on this road for thirty minutes and had
passed two other cars, both travelling south. The sight of another
one, coming up behind them, made David nervous. They had two
choices: stay put or move off now, at high speed, along a dead
straight road, with no opportunity to turn off, according to the
map, for many miles. It would turn into a speeding pursuit, with
the following car eventually catching them up. David moved urgently
back round to the driver’s side and got in, motioning Katherine to
get back into the passenger seat.

“What’s the matter?”

“There’s a car coming up behind us and I reckon there’s a
good chance it’s the one following us.” He put the Subaru into gear
and moved off. “I’m just going to drive normally and wait and see
what happens.”

He quickly accelerated to the speed limit. Once again there
had been no opportunity to think his actions through. He had no
idea what would happen in the next five minutes. All he knew was
the car behind was making steady progress towards them. The driver
was certainly breaking the speed limit, which in turn meant either
he was just in a hurry or was pursuing them.

By now he could see it was a small blue saloon with a driver
and passenger, less than a hundred metres behind. The driver
indicated to overtake. As the car cruised past, David turned his
head enough to see the passenger to his right was looking straight
ahead, completely ignoring him. The blue car pulled back into the
lane, maintaining its speed.

“So far, so good.” David whispered under his breath.
Katherine did not reply. Glancing to his left, he noted her look of
determined concentration. Years of marriage had honed their mutual
body language–reading skills. He knew she was trying to conceal an
inner terror.

Neither expected what happened next.

The rear window of the car in front began to flash blue. David
braked and the leading car did the same. Before David realised what
was going on, the manoeuvre had successfully slowed both cars to a
graceful halt. All four sat motionless in silence, except for the
faint burble of their engines. The occupants, two smart but
casually dressed fit looking men in their mid thirties, opened
their doors, stepped out and were standing beside David and
Katherine’s doors, blocking their exit. David fumbled for the
button to lower the window on his side. As he did so, the man
standing next to him lowered himself to meet the space left by the
glass.

“Mr David Turner?” The last time someone had said his name in
that tone had been in the airport in Singapore. The man did not
wait for confirmation. “New Zealand Police.”

For a split second David considered asking for proof; a badge
or an ID card, but decided not to. He did however notice that he
had introduced themselves as New Zealand Police as if any other
police force would operate in New Zealand. David thought it wise to
defer, at least to begin with. But something about the man’s voice
was not right

“Could you step out of the car, please?”

He felt safe in the car. The engine was still running and the
door was locked. The officer could sense David’s reticence and
tried to ease the situation; “Look, I’m standing here on the road
with my back to the traffic. It’s a lot safer if we stand over
there on the grass verge,” he said, pointing to the parched area
between the car and the densely packed trees. David and Katherine
both got out of their car and the quartet walked in silence over to
the fence. The other police officer spoke. “We understand you have
entered the country in possession of a substantial amount of money
in the form of a credit card, and that you are being pursued so the
card can be re-instated to its rightful owner.”

David already knew this much for himself but he was not sure
how much more the police knew, so he decided to test them. “Do you
know who the card belongs to?” Finally the opportunity presented
itself on a lonely road in the middle of a forest. “Do you know the
reason why huge sums of money are being brought into New Zealand?
Because I think I do.”

The two police officers looked at each other, then back at
David; “Tell us what you know, Mr Turner.”

David relaxed. No longer feeling intimidated, he decided to
ask a few questions of his own. “America?”

“No comment.” This meant they knew.

“Alternative fuel?”

“Sorry, we can’t discuss any of this with you.” They were
getting restless.

“Ok, why exactly have you stopped us, officer?”

“Because we believe you may be able to assist us in our
enquiries into the death of a New Zealand national in London and we
would like you to accompany us back to town to answer some further
questions.”

Now David felt sick. For two days the police must have been
playing this waiting game, tracking their every move, perhaps
waiting for the owners of the card to intercept them, before
finally pulling them over on a quiet country road. “Please get back
in the car, turn around and drive back into town. We will be
following right behind. A marked police car is on its way. They
will meet up with us and escort you to the police
station.”

David did as he was instructed, performed a careful U-turn on
the deserted road, and headed back the way they had come. As they
settled in for the thirty minute escorted drive, Katherine and her
husband spoke again for the first time since they had been
stopped:

“So what happens now?” she asked.

‘Well it looks like what finally happens
now is the truth and, in the end, after racking my brains for the
last few days, I can’t see we have actually done anything
wrong.”

David’s phone suddenly rang. Katherine picked it up from
between the two front seats and read the text.

Accelerate HARD!

David checked his rear view mirror. Ahead of him, a shimmer of
yellow in the far distance came into view through the heat haze.
Gripping the steering wheel, he pushed his foot flat to the floor.
The gap between the Turner’s and the car behind grew as, checking
the speedometer, David coaxed the Subaru past 110kph. He had
presumed the text had come from the police behind them but their
car was not matching his speed and there was now a gap of nearly a
hundred metres between them.

The next twenty seconds happened very fast.

The yellow blur which had been travelling towards them
suddenly came into focus as a large truck and trailer carrying
logs. No longer shimmering, instead small puffs of blue smoke
swirled around its tyres. The cab was rocking violently, and
despite the road, the driver appeared to be having trouble keeping
the huge vehicle in a straight line as it hurtled towards
them.

David and Katherine were now speeding at 120kph towards it.
The Subaru and truck whooshed past each other with barely a metre
between them, the turbulence swaying the Turner’s car from side to
side. Glancing to his right, David could see the trailer was
already leaning in towards the other side of the road. There was a
thud as the steering wheel was wrenched from his hands. The back
end of the trailer had clipped their car. He wrestled with the
steering and managed to pull the car back onto the left side of the
road, trying desperately to decelerate.

Katherine was leaning over her seat, looking back up the road
screaming; “Oh God! Oh Shit!”

The trailer was now across both lanes of the road and, between
its wheels, now at right angles to the direction they should have
been facing, David could see in the mirror the front of the police
car, smoke also coming from its tyres as all four of its wheels
appeared, in silence, to leave the ground, as the trailer unit
careered into it. David braked hard and the Subaru screeched and
shuddered to a halt.

The accident was about 200 metres behind them. David turned
the car around and sped back up the road, stopping where the
wreckage on the road made it impossible to continue. The cab of the
truck was stationary; sitting upright, facing the right direction,
on the correct side of the road. Behind it, the articulated trailer
was also still upright but almost unrecognisable as a piece of
road–going machinery, a twisted mass of metal and wood, devastated
by the combined impact of the police car hitting it and the logs
rolling onto the car and surrounding road.

They were both trained in first aid and instinctively ran
towards the carnage, noticing as they got closer, a combination of
burning rubber, petrol and fresh pine infused into the blue smoke
which lingered in the swirling air. There was a ‘clunk’ and David
saw two tree-trunk legs emerge from the driver’s side of the truck.
Their owner ducked under the mangled trailer and strode over
towards them. A large bear of a middle-aged Maori cracked a smile
across his swarthy features, wiping sweat and oil from his
glistening brow.

“Shit, that went a lot better than I expected.”

David and Katherine were speechless.

“Kia ora, I’m Hone Hemiate. How’s it goin?”
He held out a huge brown muscled tattooed arm and gripped David’s
nervously outstretched hand with some force, “’S'pect that scared
the shit outa you’s fellas. Sorry ‘bout that. I ain’t got the hang
of steering and texting yet. Guess I’ll have to get the kids to
give me some lessons, eh?” Hone laughed loudly at his own humour.
It felt out of place in the circumstances.

Neither of them could think of a suitable response after what
had just happened. The two policemen still lay trapped in the
wreckage beneath tons of metal and logs. Katherine made to go
towards them. Hone stopped her, gently but firmly grabbing her arm.
“Wouldn’t go near there if I was you, ma’am. Don’t worry ’bout
those fellas - died instantly, I could see from up in the cab. Log
straight through the windscreen and the top sliced off like a
sardine can”.

She took exception to the fact he still had hold of her arm.
“Mr Hemiate, you don’t seem too concerned that you’ve just killed
two police officers in a horrific traffic accident.” She excused
his jovial mood as some bizarre post-traumatic reaction.

His mood lowered. “Sorry folks, it wasn’t an accident. We
needed to get those Yanks off your tail.”

“Yanks?”

David’s suspicion about the Kiwi accent he had heard minutes
earlier was confirmed

“Yeah, they were American agents. Followed
you’s all the way from Auckland. They were probably going to run
you’s off the road in the next couple of minutes if I hadn’t got to
them first. Did you give them the card?” He knew about the
card.