The Spanish Helmet (9 page)

Sunlight streamed into the window and bathed Matt in its warmth. He pulled himself out of bed and shuffled over to the window, barely alert at all. He was greeted with Warren’s beautiful view of Campbell’s Bay and beyond it, the broad conical form of Rangitoto, the volcanic island whose history Warren had explained the night before. Matt was impressed to learn that Auckland was built on about fifty volcanoes, and that a new volcano could appear at any time. Surely there are more logical places to build your city, he mused, awed by the spectacle. Deciding to leave the curtain open and not to crawl back under the covers, Matt instead went into the ensuite adjacent to his room and showered before breakfast.

Warren had left Matt a note telling him to help
himself
to eggs, bread and whatever else he needed. He had explained to Matt the night before that he needed to go in to see his editor about a story he was working on. He would be gone all day. While Matt ate his breakfast of toast smeared with a particularly good honey, he flicked through the pages of the magazine that Warren was freelancing for,
Observer
. It was clear that the magazine specialised in investigative pieces.
The sort of articles that might spark a controversy, or at least challenge the status quo.
A good fit for Warren. Matt chose an article about a shampoo product and read about the nasty ingredients as he finished up his breakfast.

After putting his dishes in the dishwasher, Matt grabbed the car keys that Warren had left for him and collected the cordless phone from its cradle. Before diving into his uncomfortable mission to visit his father, he would call Julia to get her to do some research on the mirror at the university museum. As he dialled the number, he considered the 13 hour lead he had on her and hoped she would still be up and not mind the distraction from the Spanish Galleon.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi Julia,
it’s
Matt.’

‘How’s New Zealand?’

‘It’s beautiful and I’m having a really interesting time. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back, but right now, I need your help.’

‘Fire away.’

That’s what Matt loved about Julia. No messing around.
Just professional and straight to the point.
As he spoke he removed the mirror from its safe-keeping and sank into the big soft sofa.

‘I’ve uploaded some files to our server. I want you to have a look at them. They’re photos of a mirror that Warren has found. It’s clearly of Celtic origin, but could you tell me more about it? Maybe see if someone at the museum or in the department can shed some light on it for me?’

‘Sure,’ Julia said. ‘I’m just bringing up the pictures now.’

Matt waited until Julia confirmed she had the files.

‘Someone at the museum can definitely help with this. I’ll let you know as soon as. Will a couple of days be all right?’

‘That’ll be perfect.’

Julia sounded distracted to Matt, so he thought he would leave it there and take the conversation elsewhere. He folded the mirror back into the cloth and returned it to its hiding place, before returning to the sofa. He continued on his new topic as he moved about.

‘So, how’s your analysis of the recovered galleon loot going?’

‘Good. Getting plenty done since it’s so quiet around here. But that’s not interesting. How’s New Zealand?’

Matt smiled. OK, if she was going to ask twice he had better at least give her something, besides he had a lot to tell and welcomed the opportunity to tell someone he knew about what he had seen and done in the last few days. He explained the different sites that Warren had shown him and discussed the pretty scenery and how odd it was to have summer in December. Then, for reasons unknown to him, he mentioned meeting Aimee on the flight.

 ‘She’s a Kiwi history student and was able to enlighten me with stories about New Zealand history. Actually, I asked her about the alternative theories of New Zealand history and she was a wealth of knowledge.’

‘So she told you about the Celtic theory?’

‘That and much more.’

‘More?’

‘There are lots of theories thrown around. There’s even one where New Zealand was discovered, or at least visited, by the Spanish.’

‘The Spanish?’
Julia sounded more alert now.

‘Yes, the Spanish.’ Matt was pleased with himself for exciting the conversation. He could tell that Julia wanted to know more. ‘A Spanish helmet was dredged out of the Wellington Harbour about 130 years ago. It’s been dated as 500 years old which puts the Spanish here long before the Dutch or English.’

‘Sounds interesting.
I’d love it if you could find out more about that. But don’t forget that you’re there to help Warren with this mirror.’

‘I won’t forget. But I’ll find out more about the helmet if I can.’

‘Sounds good.
Don’t do anything stupid though, Professor Pick was around here yesterday fishing for information.’

‘Seriously?’

‘He rabbited on about how you must have too much time on your hands if you’re able to go off gallivanting around New Zealand playing with history. Maybe the department isn’t working you hard enough or something.’

‘What a git. Hasn’t he got anything better to do?’

‘He has. He’s decided to look into your friend Warren and his theories himself. He’s asked me to give him Warren’s details. What should I do?’

‘Give them to him, it can’t hurt. I don’t have time to worry about Dwight and his damned insecurities right now.
So much to see and do.’

‘Alright, I’ll take care of it, forget I mentioned him.’

‘OK, I will. I have a father to go meet.’

‘Oh God.
Are you nervous?’

‘Nervous isn’t a strong enough word. It’s a mixture of feelings. I don’t really know what to feel.’

‘Good luck, I hope it goes well.’

‘Thanks, Julia. I reckon I need all the luck I can get. Take care, alright? I’ll get in touch if I have more news. Otherwise, I’ll just wait for you to e-mail me with anything you can tell me about the mirror.’

‘OK, Matt. Bye’

Matt pressed the little red button on the phone and watched as the screen dimmed. Looking out the window, he wondered if going to see his father was a wise move. It might just dredge up the past.
An unwanted past.
Like a Spanish helmet, better left undisturbed.

It was 10:46am when Matt pulled the car over to the side of the road in what had to be the prettiest little area in Auckland. Devonport was laden with beautiful wooden-clad villas and seemed to carry with it some history. Matt couldn’t help but notice the small naval base as he came past the wharfs, but this part of the village, tucked around the side of a volcano and away from the main street and noise was lovely. It struck Matt that his father at least had some taste. But leaving his mother and him, well, that just wasn’t on. She had never talked about it, except to ensure Matt his father had abandoned them. She never told him his father’s name, he had to learn that one from his Grandmother during her last days. It was her that begged Matt to find his father. And now, here he was. He decided during the drive that he would be open and listen to the excuses he was expecting to hear, but he was also determined to be steadfast in his conviction that his father had done them wrong.

Locating the correct house number on the wooden letterbox out the front, Matt pulled up the car on the kerbside
. As he did so, he noticed a black car parking on the road not more than one hundred metres behind him. Matt released his seat-belt and eased himself out of the car, turning to look at the black car as he did. Yep, it was a Corolla. And bold as brass, in the driver’s seat sat the same man that Matt had seen on the airport road. The cheeky bugger was smiling at him! The fact that he was so clearly not trying to hide himself made Matt nervous. In all the films and books, if the bad guy lets you see him, it was because it didn’t matter. He was going to kill you anyway.
Oh, don’t be silly Matt. He’s a government agent interested in protecting the cultural identity of their country. Not a killer.
Matt smiled back. He even surprised himself by raising his hand slightly in a sort of half-wave. He quickly took it down again though, not wanting to provoke that killing instinct.

Putting thoughts of his chaperone as far to the side as possible, Matt made his way up the path to the front door of the house with a mixture of nerves and determination. It was one of the nicer looking villas. His father had done well for himself. He lifted his shaking hand to the doorbell, rang it, took a step back, and waited.

  * * *

Hemi laughed to himself as he watched Matt waiting at the door of the house he had stopped at. You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you Dr. Cameron? We’ll see about wiping that bloody smile off your face.

The door was answered by a woman. No one Hemi knew. He needed to find out who she was. He waited until Matt had entered the house and started the car. Driving at a snail’s pace past the letterbox, he noted the house number. At the end of the street, he looked up at the white sign and confirmed the name. Armed with just these details, Hemi dialled Leigh’s number.

Hemi was impressed with her speed in answering.

‘Is that you Hemi?’ Leigh asked.

‘Yeah.
Nothing escapes you, does it?’

‘What can I do you for, gorgeous?’

‘Got an address I want you to run.’

‘Fire away.’

Hemi gave the details he had and waited as he listened to typing in the background. It only took a few seconds.

‘The resident would be one Nadine Robertson. House ownership is under the name Andy Robertson though.
Maybe the husband.
Gimme a sec.’

‘Take your time,’ Hemi said, as he scrawled down the two names.

‘Ah, not the husband.
It’s the father.’

‘Thanks Leigh. Could you put together a file on them and get it across to me ASAP?’

‘I’ll get it done this arvo.’

Hemi disconnected the call and turned the car around. Driving back past the house, he glanced briefly at the front windows.
Who are you?
He put the car into second gear and sped away. He had some more research to do.

  * * *

Matt stood, glued to the doorstep, transfixed by the young woman looking back at him. She was beautiful.
So familiar.
It was a strange feeling.

‘Ah, excuse me?’ She interrupted his thoughts.

‘S... sorry.’
Matt stammered for the first time he could recall and realising that he had ignored her when she opened the door, he added, ‘I was expecting somebody else.’

‘Oh.’ She looked almost deflated. ‘Maybe I can point you in the right direction?’

Matt was unsure if it was worth taking this any further.
Oh, what the hell
. ‘I’m looking for Andy Robertson.’ Matt rushed the words out. ‘This was the last known address that I found for him.’

‘Andy Robertson?’ She looked concerned. ‘What do you need him for?’

‘He’s my
father,
I’ve come to find my father.’

The woman trembled and steadied herself by grabbing the door frame.

‘Matthew?’