The wind carried a light ocean spray into Matt’s face. The saltiness of the water left a tingly sensation on his tongue. There were few things more refreshing than enjoying the deck of a ship on a hot summer’s day. Matt took a deep breath; the sea air filled his lungs with vigour. He smiled. Last night, Matt had e-mailed Dwight Pick. It was good news, or so he thought. He told Dwight that he had dropped the Celtic investigation, from here on out he would follow up on the Spanish theory. It reassured him to know the warnings would be withdrawn, that his job was no longer on the line.
Wellington was ten minutes behind them. Picton, at the top of the South Island, was almost three hours away. The ferry was rumoured to go through some beautiful sounds later in the journey, but right now, they pushed their way through Wellington Harbour. A patchwork quilt of housing tumbled down towards the water on the starboard coast. To port, things were sparser. There was a large range of hills. Not a lot of activity over there.
‘Just think,’ Aimee said, ‘maybe Spanish explorers were here five hundred years back. I wonder where the helmet was dredged from.’
‘The records don’t tell you,’ Matt answered. ‘Maybe there are some more records somewhere, but where are they?’
He looked down at the water the ship threw out in its wake. ‘I wonder if the helmet could be remains of a shipwreck.’
‘That’s not a bad theory,’ Aimee said. ‘Actually, the Wahine, one of these ferries went down near here about forty years back.’
‘What happened?’
‘There had been a big storm overnight. It gets really rough here in storms. Early in the morning, when the ferry was coming in, the captain had to decide whether to risk it or stay out at sea. He took the risk.’
‘But it was too rough?’
‘Way too rough. When he realised it, he turned back and tried to get back out but it was all too much. He ended up hitting Barrett Reef. 53 people died.’
Matt turned his head back down to the water. ‘So it’s altogether possible that a Spaniard met the same fate, and voila, a helmet was found on the harbour bed.’
‘Yeah, but Barrett Reef is still a fair way out in front of us. I don’t know if they’d have dredged out there.’
‘Ok, but like the curator said, it may have been found on a beach or something. I think we’ll never know.’
The ferry pushed on through the harbour and Aimee pointed out the area where the Wahine had gone down. On the other side of the ship, Matt was mesmerised by a lighthouse that marked the harbour entrance. As he fixed his gaze on the lighthouse, he allowed himself to get immersed in a daydream. Matt lived in a disused lighthouse on the Cornwall Coast. He was out in the garden, landscaping. He lifted his eyes from his work and saw the lighthouse’s striking red door open. He was proud of his work. The once run-down lighthouse now shimmered white in the sunlight. The door, window frames and the lantern room were painted bright red. The lantern was gone; its room now an observation lounge, a cosy nook with a couple of reading chairs and a coffee table. He whiled away hours in there with his lovely wife. He watched her now, as she came through the door. She carried a tray with two tall glasses of water garnished with a slice of lemon. She floated towards him, her summery dress fluttering in the sea-breeze. The air was filled with the joy of children playing. His two angels appeared from behind their mother, running about, playing gleefully. His throat was parched. He licked at his lips. His wife arrived at his side.
‘Would you like a drink darling?’
‘Thanks Aimee, I really need one.’
‘Are you alright Matt?’ Aimee asked, bringing him back to reality. ‘You look like you’re miles away and you’re licking your lips.’
Matthew looked at her, his face going red. She wasn’t wearing a flowing summer dress and she didn’t look at him lovingly. She looked at him like he was a madman.
‘Sorry, I was miles away. I think I need a drink, you want one?’
‘Love one, should I go?’
‘I’ll get it.’
Matt took Aimee’s order and made his way back into the ship and downstairs. He found the cafeteria and picked out a couple of bottles of Coke to take back on deck. He noticed that there were other customers hard behind him in the queue, but didn’t give them a second glance. Matt paid for the drinks, breaking a large note and was handed the change. He walked out of the cafeteria and fiddled about putting the change back into his wallet, simultaneously staring off into space out the window. His daydream was sneaking back. Before he had a chance to realise what was happening, a strong hand grabbed his arm. The grip was firm and there was no way he could fight it. Shit, I’m being robbed.
Matt turned to look at his assailant, ready to make a scene.
‘You again?’ He asked, when he saw his attacker.
‘We need to have a chat.’
‘Here?’
‘No, come with me, to the starboard deck. Can I trust you to come peacefully and casually?’
‘I’m not a child.’
‘Good. Let’s go.’
Matt was intrigued but wary of the situation. He followed the tall man outside and glanced in the direction he knew Aimee was in. He couldn’t see her, a fact which made him happy. He didn’t want her involved in any violence, if that’s what it came to. But the whole situation was completely new to Matt. He didn’t know how these government types operate.
They made their way out onto the deck, which Matt noticed was deserted.
The Maori spoke. ‘You obviously know that we’ve been following you. I don’t see any point in playing games, so I decided we could get to know each other.’
Matt looked around, but saw no one else. ‘We as in the NISO? What’s your name?’
‘My name is Hemi.’
Matt didn’t want to believe it was his real name, but who makes up a name like that?
‘Who I work for is not important, except to say that he’s an evil, nasty man. A man who could make your life a misery.’
One man, Matt wondered. Is he just referring to his immediate boss?
‘But you work for the government right? The NISO or the DCI?’
‘That isn’t important. The less I tell you, the safer you’ll be.’
‘You want to protect me?’ Matt asked. ‘Don’t you just want to protect your culture, your history? Some government plot to stop anyone researching alternative theories of New Zealand history?’
‘You’ve got some funny ideas Dr. Cameron, and you’re treading on dangerous ground. You need to stop looking into the Spanish theory of yours. Before someone gets hurt.’
‘I thought you didn’t want to hurt anyone.’
‘I don’t.’ Hemi snapped the words out. ‘But the man I work for does. You looking into your father’s theory is really pissing him off. I dunno what he’ll do if you don’t leave it alone.’
‘What can he do?’ Matt asked, wondering if threats like this scared off other researchers.
‘I think your father’s life may be in danger.’
‘C’mon, seriously? That’s a bit over the top isn’t it?
‘I wouldn’t risk my job telling you if I wasn’t serious.’
Matt briefly considered what it would mean if this guy was telling the truth. Were he, Aimee, Warren, his father all in danger? Would Hemi’s boss really do something desperate to stop their work? And why would Hemi, if that was really his name, want to protect them. Then again, if he was telling the truth…
‘OK,’ Matt said. ‘We’ll be on our best behaviour. But we’re still going to Nelson to look at my father’s work.’
‘Are you hard of hearing or do you just like to pretend that you don’t believe me?’
‘I do believe you.’
‘Of course you do. You know I’m telling you the truth. It’s a bit like collective unconsciousness.’
‘Pardon?’ Matt wasn’t sure he heard that right.
‘You’ve had your warning, if you don’t want to take me seriously, it ain’t my problem.’
Hemi turned and walked away. That was it. Matt needed a stiff drink. That or a good chat with someone who could boost his spirits. Remembering the two Cokes in his hands, he decided it would be the latter.