The Spanish Helmet (21 page)

She looked beautiful. It was almost as good as his lighthouse daydream. Those shorts, her legs and when she turned and saw him approach with the Cokes, her smile.

‘Did you swim back to Wellington for those?’

‘Almost as unbelievable.
But no, I didn’t. Instead, I had a chat with an old friend.’

‘Who?’
Aimee turned her back to the sea and leaning against the railing, took her Coke from Matt.

‘Apparently his name is Hemi.
The one from the museum.’

‘The one following us?’

‘Yup.’

‘I didn’t see that coming. What did he want?’

Matt told Aimee about the encounter, replaying the whole conversation for her.

‘What do you make of it? I mean, if he works for the NISO, it stands to reason that he doesn’t want to hurt you. But why would his boss be a dangerous man? It doesn’t make sense,’ Aimee said.

‘I know, although admittedly he seemed like a nice enough guy. He was sincere. I think he was telling the truth, but I’m not convinced that the NISO or DCI are out to protect anyone. They only want to protect themselves and their interests.’

‘I don’t think that’s true. I’m sure they’re only doing what they think is right.’

‘Why do you always defend them so stoically?’ Matt stood back and waited for an answer. It took a few seconds coming.

‘I just don’t think they’re as far into this as you do. These government departments are all paperwork and pen-pushing. I doubt they’ve got the resources or get-go to chase us around the country making threats.’

Matt thought about that a little. It made sense; Matt and Aimee were little people. Why would the government waste resources of them? But then, Warren seemed so convinced.

‘You’re probably right and I’m blowing this all out of proportion. I’ve read too many rumours and theories from people who have too much invested in the other side.’

‘So what are you going to do with Hemi’s information? Are you going to forget your father’s work?

‘What can I do? It isn’t like I’m going to roll over and go home without at least finding out what my father was onto. I have to keep going, at least as far as Nelson. But I’ll call Nadine and tell her to look out for him.’

‘Good for you. Good for us, in fact.’ Aimee smiled and gently brushed his arm for a second. Matt thought he saw something like pride in her eyes. He couldn’t be certain though; such was the distraction of her touch.

 As the ferry continued across the Cook Strait, the pair chatted amiably about the little things in life.
Coke, caffeine, coffee, late nights, TV series and old films.
Matt felt like he was with an old friend. It was comfortable. Normal. Over an hour passed this way, and Matt felt like he was getting to know a lot about Aimee, just from hearing the way she talked about unimportant stuff. They were passing through the Marlborough Sounds, on a beautiful calm sea, when Aimee grabbed his arm to let him know the subject was changing. She looked excited.

‘I just remembered something; it was something from the journals of Captain Cook.’

‘Go on.’

‘On his third journey, I think it was
,
he came here to Queen Charlotte Sound. If I remember right he was told a story by his Maori guide that a ship had arrived here many years before. The white captain of the ship took a Maori wife and she bore him a son.’

‘Cook wrote about this?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Wouldn’t that have been a pretty big suggestion that there had been other Europeans before him? Why haven’t I heard of it before?’

‘Dunno, but it’s no different to that story of Mike’s. You know, about the Ngati Porou on the East Cape.
There’s
plenty more Maori stories that get ignored.’

‘There are just so many questions. I don’t think I’ve ever come across a country with such an identity crisis as New Zealand!’

‘I know.’ Aimee laughed. ‘Let’s hope we can do something about it, eh?’

‘We can but try.’

Matt leaned against the railing of the ship and enjoyed the scenery that scrolled smoothly past. The rolling green hills tumbled down into small bays with golden sandy beaches. Native timbers covered the hills in many places, and small boats sat in the bays waiting for their owners to come out and play. In his mind’s eye, Matt saw a Spanish Caravel sitting in one of the bays. Beyond it, a small red and white Maori dwelling sat just above the high-tide line, where the grasses met the sand. Out the front, a Spanish man worked on a small wooden boat. A young boy, with coffee coloured skin sat nearby, playing with some stones. From the porch of the house, a beautiful Maori woman watched them, her eyes filled with love and pride.

Matt had to take control of his daydreams. He was going to get himself in trouble. He looked at Aimee, convinced that she didn’t get lost in stupid thoughts like his.

‘You dirty bastard,’ Matt said, straightening his body.

‘I showered this morning.’ Aimee laughed.

‘Not you,’ Matt stifled a laugh, ‘that Hemi guy. He said something about collective unconsciousness. I couldn’t think why it was familiar, it was like déjà vu.’

‘The Crosshouse.’

‘Exactly.
What are the chances of someone mentioning collective unconsciousness the next day?’

‘That’s what collective unconsciousness is all about.’

‘Nah, I don’t buy it. I think we’ve been bugged. How else did he know which ferry, where we’ve been and where we’re going? I’m going down to look at the car. I’ll be back soon.’

‘You can’t go down
there,
it’s locked during the crossing.’

‘I’ll find a way.’

With that, Matt took off in the direction of the stairs to the car decks.

* * *

Aimee was
right,
the door to the parking deck was locked. He had to find a way in. If access here wasn’t allowed, it might be the only chance he had of getting a good look at the car without Hemi knowing what he was up to. He looked around for a ship employee. The perfect victim came his way.

‘Excuse me,’ Matt said to the pimply young man who looked very proud of his uniform, ‘I need to get down to my car.’

‘Sorry sir, the vehicle decks are out of bounds during sailing.’

‘I know, I understand. It’s a safety thing. But my friend is sick and needs special medication. We didn’t think to bring it up.’

‘Oh.’ The crewman looked around, panic coming over his face. ‘It’s my first
week,
I don’t know who to talk to.’

‘We don’t have time,’ Matt said, sounding as exasperated as he could, ‘every second counts till she gets those meds.’

‘Shit, follow me.’

He raced down a hall and around a corner before opening an unmarked steel door. Matt was hard on his heels. The door opened to a narrow staircase that led steeply downwards. Matt shut the door behind himself.

‘Go down these stairs and you’ll be on the vehicle decks. Be as quick as you can and come back up this way. If you get caught, I never saw you. I like my job.’

‘Your secret is safe with me. And hey, you just saved a life.’

The young man smiled and slipped back through the door and off to whatever task he was interrupted from. Matt descended the stairs and entered the car-deck through another steel door. He looked back at it and took a mental picture so he could find his way out.

At the car, Matt lay down in the foot-well of the driver and passenger seats and searched for a bugging device. In the movies they were always little plastic boxes, so he knew what to look for, but came up empty. The glove box, dashboard, seats, under the seats, in the pockets and behind the sun-shades - everything looked normal.

Under the car.
It must be a locator device or something.

Matt climbed out and lay on his back to slide under the car. Bingo. There it was, plain as day.
Quite a large plastic box with a little light glowing on it.
This was just like the movies. It was secured with cable ties, impossible to remove with bare hands, but Matt never left home without his Victorinox Swiss Army Knife. He opened the blade, cut the ties, held onto the device and crawled out from his uncomfortable confines. He looked at the transmitter and thought about throwing it overboard or drowning it in the toilet, but then he had a better idea. If it stopped working, Hemi would realise something was wrong. It would be better to relocate it, as it were, and send the Maori off on a wild goose chase. The very next car was a good host candidate, a hatchback with every last inch of the back window stuffed with luggage, a baby-on-board sticker completing the image. Matt got to work and attached the bug to the hatchback.

Don’t worry
, he told the driver in his head,
you’re not going to notice the extra weight.

  His work done, he went and rejoined Aimee to enjoy the rest of the cruise.

Monday, October 25, 1526

I must write in this journal more sparingly, as I risk running out of space. I have few pages left here and only one blank volume available. Unfortunately, the rest of our cloth parchment, those from Xàtiva, and ink were lost with the Sancti Spiritus.

After leaving the harbour that I spoke of in my last entry, the coast continued along the large bay in a west-north-west direction. Some twenty odd leagues beyond the harbour, we found another much larger harbour where the coast took a sharper turn to the north-west and we skirted around a beautifully forested peninsula. The trees to be seen here covered the low mountains in a spectacular fashion, reaching heights beyond belief. We rounded the peninsula, noting a large island to the north, and crossed the southerly basin about half-way down its length. What we thought was the continued coast of the
land,
we discovered to be a further group of islands. To the west of these was yet another large and very calm harbour. The entrance to it was small and hid the secret of its size well. We could well have chosen to stop here for a while, but I prefer to make short stops for replenishment and then to continue exploring all that this land has to offer before setting a return course for home.

We have set up wooden crosses and laid five stones on the ground in each place we have dropped anchor. We still have a good supply of jars for leaving messages in, but parchment is in short supply and I want to keep some jars for preserving foods and samples to take home.

We left the peaceful harbour and followed the coast for a further hundred leagues north, before rounding a cape and finding ourselves on a south-east course. There are long beaches in these parts. The one almost immediately after the northern cape here is over eighteen leagues long. I expect that the cape we have rounded belongs to a large peninsula, and that we will eventually be turned to the west again, although even with the clear weather we have today, no land is to be seen on the western horizon.