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.
CHAPTER 29
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 deja vu.’
