The Peco Incident (19 page)

‘Did Brio have a pack or anything with her?’ she asked.

‘No. If she did, then she left it in the lupins,’ I replied. ‘Why? Do you think she might have tried infecting the penguins again?’

‘I’m not sure what to think. I suspect she might have come back to see if the spraying had been successful.’ She thought for a time. ‘I’m sure that by now she would have expected some publicity about dead or dying penguins, and of course there hasn’t been any, because the penguins are all right.’

‘Why didn’t the spraying work?’ asked Nick, once more showing some interest in life.

‘I’m not sure,’ replied Cathy. ‘I do know that different species respond differently to the various strains of bird flu. It could be that penguins are unaffected by H6N3.’

‘The ones at Murph’s died,’ I said.

‘That’s true,’ she conceded. ‘Maybe yellow-eyed penguins are different.’

‘What about other sea birds?’ asked Nick.

‘I know some can be killed by it,’ said Cathy. ‘There have been major outbreaks with seagulls in the Northern Hemisphere.’

‘Albatrosses?’ asked Nick.

We both turned and looked at him. For a time there was silence.

It was broken by Cathy. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, slowly. ‘But I’m not prepared to risk it.’

‘What are you going to do?’ I asked.

She gave a thin smile. ‘Upset my boss. It’s time Colin Saxton knew all about this.’

‘At last,’ said Nick. ‘Maybe
now
we’ll get some action.’

Cathy gave him a dirty look. For a moment it seemed as though she might change her mind. But then she gave a grim smile.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Maybe we will. But first I’m going to get the results on that dinosaur egg residue. If that’s positive, then he won’t have further grounds to ignore me, will he?’ She leaned forward and picked up the phone.

The tests were positive, proving that the infected eggs had been brought into New Zealand packed as dinosaur egg toys. That, along with all the other evidence, was enough to convince Colin Saxton that what we’d been saying all along was actually true.

Once he was converted, he put the full weight of his power behind us. The police were informed that animal-rights terrorists were likely to attack the royal albatross colony at Taiaroa Head. Naturally they wanted to question us further, which they arranged to do at midday. In the meantime, we got a ride with Cathy back to Allans Beach to retrieve our bikes and then rode home. My plans for catching up on some sleep had to be put on hold.

Our lounge was quite crowded by the time everyone arrived for the interview. Apart from the two police officers, there was Saxton, Cathy, my parents, and, of course, Nick and me. We’d already had a family conference so that Mum and Dad knew we were going to tell the police about the Peco break-in. Dad no longer objected, saying that things had got so serious that our crimes were minor in comparison.

We told the police everything.

Every so often either Saxton or one of the police officers would ask a question, but there was nothing to suggest they thought we were telling lies. Oh sure, there were raised eyebrows at times, especially when we told them of the night visit to the Peco sheds. And yet even then nobody said anything about us breaking the laws of trespass. Altogether it was quite a satisfying experience, particularly the relief I felt about having
everything out in the open. No longer would there be any need for secrets or lies.

There were more questions when we’d finished, mostly about the events that morning. The police wanted a good description of the car. They needed make, model and number plate. We could give them none of those. Neither Nick nor I knew much about cars. To us it was just a silver-coloured hatchback with white number plates. That was it; no amount of questioning could stir any better memories.

The discussion moved on to discuss the possibility of an attack on the albatross colony. The police had trouble understanding Brio’s motives.

‘Why would she want to destroy the albatrosses?’ asked one of them. ‘What’s in it for her?’

‘She’s a fanatic,’ said Saxton, as if he knew her well. ‘Lots of these activists are. They start off believing one thing, and then get so involved they lose touch with why they’re doing it. In her twisted mind, killing the albatrosses will stop battery egg-farming. She honestly believes she’s doing a good thing.’

The policeman nodded, although I could see he didn’t really understand. My view was that I doubted that anyone would ever understand what was going on in Brio’s mind. Maybe it was safer not to try.

We then looked at the security at Taiaroa Head. It was here that Colin Saxton was most helpful. While the police were sympathetic to our needs, they doubted that they’d be able to provide any back-up to what was already happening at the albatross colony. The next day was New Year’s Eve,
their busiest day of the year. They couldn’t promise anything. However, Saxton did.

‘BIRT will provide additional security for the colony until those two are caught,’ he said. ‘Whatever it takes, we’ll do it.’

After that the police officers went to start the rounds of rental-car companies in the hope of identifying the vehicle Roost was driving. It was agreed that if we remembered anything more or discovered something new, then we would pass it on to Cathy. She would be our contact with both BIRT and the police.

We then got the chance to ask Saxton about Harriet. Both Nick and I thought that his new helpfulness might extend to being more reasonable about our parakeet. We soon learnt otherwise.

‘Can we have Harriet back now?’ asked Nick.

‘Who?’ asked Saxton.

‘Harriet — our parakeet.’

‘Oh her! No, you can’t have her back,’ he snapped.

‘Why not?’ I asked.

‘Because she’s dead.’

My jaw dropped. Everyone looked at him in dismay.

Cathy was the first to recover. ‘She can’t be!’ she cried.

‘Oh yes, she can,’ said Saxton. ‘She would have been killed before they took the spleen and other tissues. That’s how they do it.’

‘I was told they might be able to do it with surgery,’ said Cathy.

Saxton shrugged. ‘Whoever told you that was just trying
to make you feel better.’ His tone softened a little. ‘Look, she’s done her job. From the samples, scientists will be able to work out all sorts of things. You shouldn’t be too upset. She’s fulfilled a very useful purpose for science. Someday, I’m sure, other birds will benefit from her death. Her sacrifice will not have been in vain.’

After that he went, leaving us staring at each other in shock.

That afternoon I grieved for the loss of Harriet. I think her loss would have been easier to accept if she’d been killed soon after she’d been taken away. However, Cathy had given us hope that she’d live out her life doing useful things for science. Instead, it looked as if she’d been killed almost as soon as the scientists got hold of her. I felt anger as well as grief. So much anger that I began to understand why some animal-rights activists would go to extreme measures to rescue animals from scientific research.

I worked off my feelings by finishing the pendant for Murph. Carving Harriet’s image was excellent therapy, and by dinnertime I’d mostly recovered my sanity. It was hard to tell how Nick was feeling. He’d spent the afternoon in our bedroom playing video games. At dinner that evening he was quieter than usual, fingering his pendant more than before.

In the evening we travelled to Dunedin to visit Murph. On the way in, Nick and I looked for silver hatchbacks. We soon realized why the police had wanted more details about Roost’s
vehicle. Almost every fifth vehicle was a silver hatchback. It seemed that every car manufacturer produced a hatchback, and that silver was the most popular colour. Even if the police did get the licence number from a rental firm, they’d be lucky to find the car amongst the thousands of lookalikes.

Murph was not good. His body was so wasted away that it was scarcely visible under the sheets. However, his mind still had some life, and he was plainly pleased to see us.

‘How’s that bird of mine?’ he asked as he grasped my hands in welcome. ‘Not causing too many problems I hope?’

This was a conversation I didn’t want to have.

‘She learnt some new rude words from Dad,’ I said.

‘Did not!’ objected Dad. ‘She got those from Murph long ago.’

‘She’s helping science,’ said Nick.

‘What’s this?’ said Murph, showing concern.

So we told him the story, dressing it up the same way Cathy had. We never said she was dead. In our story there was still the possibility of a happy ending.

When we’d finished, Murph had a bit of a smile on his face. ‘So Harriet is going to save other birds? That’s good. I like that.’

‘Pity she couldn’t do it sooner,’ said Mum. ‘Maybe she might have saved your budgies and canaries.’

Murph’s smile was replaced by sadness. ‘Yeah, maybe.’ A long pause. ‘But perhaps it’s better the way things have turned out. Something would have needed to be done with them anyway, after I’ve gone.’

While I thought we all understood he was dying, it came as a shock to hear him talk about it. To help us through the moment, I pulled the pendant of Harriet out of my pocket.

‘This is for you, Murph,’ I said, struggling not to choke up. ‘So that Harriet’s here with you until things get sorted.’

‘Hold it up so I can see it,’ he said. I did.

‘Harriet,’ he said softly. ‘My Harriet.’

‘Do you want it around your neck?’ asked Mum.

‘Yes, please.’

It was tricky getting the cord over all the tubes, but eventually we got it on.

Murph stretched up a hand and gripped the carved bone. ‘Thank you,’ he said, so very quietly. ‘Now she can be with me forever.’

As we were leaving, the duty doctor called Mum and Dad to one side. Nick and I continued walking slowly down the corridor. When they caught up, tears were pouring from Mum’s eyes; Dad’s were wet, too. I knew then that we wouldn’t be visiting Murph again. I had seen my friend for the last time.

N
ew Year’s Eve.

Nick and I started the last day of the year with a long sleep-in. It wasn’t worth getting up anyway, because it had started raining overnight and the morning was still drizzly wet.

By lunchtime, the weather had cleared enough for us to surface. The only scheduled activity for the day was in the late afternoon when Dad had arranged for us to visit the tunnels of Fort Taiaroa.

Mum was working all day and had organized dinner at the Albatross Centre, so that we could begin our New Year’s celebrations with a decent feed. With nothing to do until then, Nick and I rode into Portobello to see if Cathy had any news about Brio and Roost.

She had some, but little of it was helpful. The police had not found any car rented out to either Talia Cottingham or Jamie Fredericks. They’d checked all the silver hatchback rentals and found nobody fitting Brio or Roost’s description. Hence the two officers had come to the conclusion that the car had been purchased, borrowed, or more likely stolen. Except nobody had reported a stolen silver hatchback.

Cathy also had a report from the extra security at Taiaroa Head. Nothing had happened overnight, except for the rain which had made their job extremely unpleasant. There was a suggestion that if it rained again that night, then they’d pack up and go home.