Hemi joined the army the day after his father’s funeral, a sad affair with just fourteen attendees. He didn’t even get to see his poor Dad’s body; it was so mangled and beaten. He watched with a hollow heart as the coffin was lowered into the ground. As it sank down, Hemi made his decision to visit the recruitment office the next day. He signed up for communications training and made a real effort to be the best. Not only did Hemi lose weight and get in shape, he was at the top of his intake and was approached by the NISO within six months of joining up. He was given agent status and inducted into an elite undercover squad investigating the radical cells that posed potential terrorist risks. His job was to infiltrate the groups, gather information, and to take them down if necessary.
The delight he felt when he discovered, by some sheer chance, that one of his potential targets was Warren Rennie was immense. And the absolute joy that he had when he realised Rennie had no idea who he was, matched it, and then some. Now, last week, when Rennie called him, woke him, and painted a target on himself with a big red brush, Hemi almost died from happiness. Finally he had a chance to work towards his legal justice. Nothing would get in his way.
* * *
Matt had just settled into bed when his mobile rang. He looked at the caller ID and groaned.
‘Good morning, Dwight,’ Matt said, answering the phone and compensating for the time difference.
‘Good morning, Matthew.’
‘It’s ten at night here.’
God, this man’s hopeless.
‘Oh, right. I didn’t stop and think.’
‘It’s alright. How are things back at the department?’
Dwight dodged the light talk.
‘Matt, I’m calling about your friend, Warren Rennie.’
Matt sat up properly and turned the bedside lamp on. He had a bad feeling about this.
‘What about Warren?’
‘There’s no easy way to put it, Matt.’
‘Just give it to me straight, I can handle it.’
Matt thought he heard Dwight chuckle.
‘Did you never bother to check him out before you jumped in on this foolish errand? He’s a fraud.’
‘What do you
mean,
a fraud?’
‘He’s not qualified. He just runs around with crazy conspiracy theories, trying to convince the world that New Zealand was discovered by the Celts!’
‘Where do you get this stuff, Dwight?’
‘Colleagues in New Zealand.
Qualified historians and archaeologists.’
‘Did you stop to consider they might be wrong?’
Dwight laughed. ‘Wrong? Don’t be naive Matt, they’re professionals. They’ve done their research.’
‘Have they? Could you send me a copy of their work then? Like a report of a complete archaeological investigation that shows emphatically that the Celts weren’t in New Zealand?’
Dwight was silent.
‘Do you have any reports like that, Dwight?’
‘No. But if academics are saying it isn’t so, then it isn’t so. You’re talking about your peers, Matt. Do you really think you can rely on some hack fool more than you can on qualified scientists?’
‘If the qualified scientists have been compromised by the status quo, yes.’
Matt smiled. It felt good to stand up to Dwight.
‘Argh.
Matt, you’re acting like as big a fool as your friend. I’m more than disappointed in you right now.’
‘I’m sorry, Dwight. But I need to do this. Don’t worry
though,
I’m being careful not to bring the department in to any ill repute.’
‘Don’t be daft, just going there and hanging about with Warren Rennie is already seeing to that.’ Dwight sighed. ‘I’ll only ask you once again, Matt, will you leave this investigation alone and get back here before doing any further damage to my reputation?’
Your reputation?
What an arrogant prick.
Matt hesitated. He didn’t want to jeopardise his job at the department,
‘No. I have to see this through, at least until I’m satisfied that someone qualified, me in this case, has actually considered the possibility properly.’
‘Then you leave me with no choice. You should accept this conversation as an oral warning. Your first written warning is in your letterbox.’
‘You’ve got to be kidding, Dwight. That’s over the top.’
‘If you decide to take my advice and leave this Celtic tomfoolery well alone, come back home. Then I’ll retract the warnings. Goodbye, Matt.’
Dwight was gone. Matt put the phone on the bedside cabinet and lay down to stare at the ceiling. Some of the paint was cracking and peeling off.
Someone must have got to Dwight. He can’t be shallow enough not to question his peers, can he?
CHAPTER 18Matt leaned over and slapped the lamp’s switch. He rolled back into bed and tossed and turned until he finally found what seemed like a comfortable position. It wasn’t, but after a while, he fell asleep anyway.
Matt looked down at his watch when he saw Aimee approach him. Three minutes late. Not bad at all.
‘Hey,’ Aimee said when she stood in front of him. ‘Sorry I’m late.’
‘You’re not late.’
‘I saw you looking at your watch, silly.’
‘Sorry.
Old habit.
Picked it up in Switzerland.’
‘You’ll have to tell me all about it sometime.’
‘I will.’
‘So I thought we could go to Mission Bay for lunch. It’s a nice little spot just around the harbour from here.’
‘OK. We’ll walk then?’
‘Don’t be daft. C’mon, the car’s parked in the Downtown Shopping Centre,’ Aimee said, pointing over her shoulder at the building behind her.
Twenty minutes of fighting a steady stream of traffic along the coast later, Aimee had squeezed her little hatchback into a spot that Matt thought was suitable for a motorbike. The girl knew how to manoeuvre a
car, that
much was certain. They climbed out and walked along a row of restaurants, many of which had outdoor seating overlooking the road, a park, and beyond that the harbour. Matt would have been happy with any of them.
‘Shall we just grab something from McDonalds?’ Aimee asked.
Any of them except for McDonalds that was.
‘Sure,’ Matt said, not wanting to rock the boat.
‘OK. We’ll get something to take away and go and sit up at the Savage Memorial.’
Matt agreed, despite having no idea what Aimee was talking about. They went into the burger joint and Matt randomly picked out a burger. He wasn’t vastly experienced in McDonalds dining. He hadn’t been since he was a kid. He had to admit though, it did smell good. Fries always did.
They walked up a path of stairs and onto a large green parkland area. As they strolled over the headland towards the coast, a monument and long pond came into view. Aimee explained that this was a memorial to Joseph Savage, New Zealand’s first Labour Prime Minister. Being built on a gunning placement from the Russian Scare, it had good views of the harbour and made a nice place for a picnic. Matt had to agree.
They sat and ate lunch, making small talk about the view and weather, but Matt had something else on his mind. It had eaten away at him all night. He had hardly slept a wink. The guilt of hiding an archaeological find was more than Matt had bargained for. Combining that guilt with the worry that was building about being exposed was even worse. Then there was his last conversation with Aimee. Were people talking about him?
Really?
Was he coming off in a good or bad light? What did the DCI know about him? All of these questions span around in his head, demanding answers. Worst of all, though, was something else. It was the doubt that had plagued him since yesterday.
The concern that he was in New Zealand on a wild goose chase.
That Warren was too deeply entwined in his theory to see what was significant and what wasn’t. Up until now, the only really significant finding that Warren had shown him was the mirror. Everything else was speculation. Great supporting evidence, but everything hinged on the mirror, and for now, Warren wasn’t revealing that. Matt had to play his waiting game, out of respect. Warren was clearly a man who knew what he was doing. He knew the New Zealand ways of things. But it didn’t make him feel any less uneasy. He needed an ear.
Someone to give him a bit of guidance.
Someone who could give him some answers.
He hoped Aimee was that person.
‘I did a little more research into those theories we discussed the other day, even the Celtic one,’ Aimee said. ‘Actually, I looked up New Zealand pseudo-history and found out a bit more about some of the stuff that goes on in those circles. It’s interesting, to say the least.
A lot of crackpots, but also some valid stuff.
You ain’t all
nutters
!’
‘Glad to hear it!’
They briefly discussed the Kumara and Hangi again, followed by the Pohutukawa tree in Spain. It appeared that it had never been aged professionally, but was estimated at 700 years old. Matt would love to get it aged by an
arborist
. But this wasn’t what he was here for. ‘We should look into it if we get a chance. Maybe a colleague of mine can contact Spain.’
‘Yeah?
That would be cool. I love a mystery. I should stop babbling.’
‘Actually, I came to lunch with you because I wanted you to babble a bit.’
‘What do you mean exactly?’ Aimee asked, sounding a little offended.
‘I need your advice.’
‘Independent ears?’
‘Yes,’ Matt said.’ You see, I’ve been out for a day or two with my friend, Warren. He’s shown me a lot of sites that he believes could be of ancient Celtic origin, but I still have my doubts. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, so I hoped maybe you had some ideas or opinions on the situation.’
Aimee sighed. ‘To be honest, I don’t give the Celtic theory a great deal of support. I’ve had a bit of a look into it, and it really does seem to be strongly based on mere speculation.’
She nailed it on the head.
Speculation.
Exactly what Matt had
decided.
But could he push her towards more than speculation?
‘Warren has found a couple of Celtic coins, and...
‘ He
hesitated.
‘And?’
Aimee asked, sounding thoroughly interested.
‘I guess I can tell you. I need to talk to someone.’
‘Talk to me,’ she said, with authority, but remaining soft and comforting.
‘He also found a mirror, an ancient Celtic mirror. That together with the coins signifies a burial ritual.’
Aimee gasped.
‘He hasn’t told the DCI,’ Matt said, ‘about the mirror, I mean. In fact, he hid it from them.’
‘He did what?’ Aimee voice was full of shock and anger, surprising Matt. But it softened with her next words. ‘I’m sorry, but that’s dangerous. He’s breaking the law and could get in trouble. He could get you in trouble. Imagine if news of your involvement in this got back to your university back home. I don’t know how things are in the UK, but if I tried that here, I’d likely be thrown out.’
‘I know, it isn’t a good situation, but I trust Warren. He really believes he has his reasons.’
‘The mirror and the coins do make a difference to the credibility of the theory. Why have you got doubts?’