The Lost Tohunga

by David Hair

  The silence mocked her.

  She spat suddenly, and said a word that made every bird visible drop dead from its perch. It would not do to have this one-sided conversation reported to Kurangaituku.

  Damn you, Matiu Douglas.

  She had run out of words, and nothing stirred. Emotions she had forgotten boiled inside her, frightening her, so she pulled the darkness about her, and faded back into the real world.

  The local constabulary

  Midnight, Thursday evening

  A tall, thin man with sandy hair and a dapper moustache ambled past the holding cells in the Rotorua Police Station. He wore a long trench coat, yet looked nothing at all like a policeman, or even a detective. But he had the right papers, and doors were opened for him. He was well connected, rumour said.

  An eccentric appearance and manner, combined with favour in high places, should have made him an ostracized, resented figure who would be undermined at every turn out of sheer territory-protecting bloody-mindedness. But he wasn’t. The fact that he talked like an old-world British army colonel should have made him a figure of fun. Which he was, but not in a mean way. Because it was impossible to dislike Tim Spriggs.

  It was something about the way he chatted with everyone like they were good friends. He made others feel likeable. He was friendly with no hint that he was currying favour. He treated everyone with equal respect and esteem. And he operated with calm precision, despite his idiosyncrasies. The station officers had quickly learned to trust him. They occasionally wondered where on Earth he came from, but ghost worlds of the mythical past didn’t figure in the speculation. Spriggs was one of a number of the Aotearoa constabulary that had some semi-regular contact with modern real-world police, but they kept it off the record.

  So when he walked into the station, someone called out in a pantomime voice: ‘I say, chaps, it’s Inspector Timothy Watt-Ho from Scotland Yard!’ Greetings showered down around him as he returned their smiles and waves.

  ‘Good evening, young Anne. How are you this fine evening?’ Timothy Spriggs beamed at the young policewoman behind the desk. ‘I hear you have some friends of mine staying with you.’ She smiled up at him, and directed him to the door to the interview room. ‘Thank you, my dear.’ He sidled past a couple of Armed Offenders Squad officers, who looked at him curiously, and into the narrow hallway beyond. He took the second door on the left, entered the spartan room, and sat down. Opposite him was a frayed-looking Maori police detective, a handsome man growing old quickly, with grey forming at his temples, and hands that seemed to be smoking a non-existent cigarette. His name tag read: HOLLIS, T.

  Hollis looked up and smiled bleakly. ‘Gidday, Tim. Coffee?’

  ‘Gracious, Tu, you know I only drink the finest Ceylon tea. Purifies the mind, you know.’ Spriggs smiled at the man opposite him. ‘You married yet, Tu? Surely some lovely wahine is just waiting for you to drop on one knee and pop the magic question?’

  Hollis rolled his eyes. ‘Not you, too, Tim. I get enough of that at home. Haven’t met anyone likely for a while … and not likely to in this bloody job,’ he added ruefully.

  ‘It all comes to us in time, Tu. So, what’s the problem then?’

  Hollis frowned. ‘Well, these friends of yours — I take it you do know them? — are the problem.’

  Spriggs smiled reflectively. ‘Wiri and Kelly are very close friends, Tu. What’s the matter? I heard they caught someone you were looking for?’

  Tu Hollis rolled his eyes. ‘Hmph! Either they’re just unlucky people in the wrong place at the wrong time, or they are vigilantes on a revenge spree. And I can’t work out which.’ He looked at Spriggs with a serious expression. ‘Nothing in their background suggests too much trouble: a part-time entertainer and a security guard looking for their friend — and yes, their friend was staying in that room — and they seemed to have no idea what they were walking into. But hell, Tim, they’re just too damned competent for people who are supposed to be innocent passersby.’ He looked at Spriggs with a look of exasperation. ‘Your friends — an unarmed man and an unarmed pregnant woman — and a dog, lest we forget — took down three armed men without a scratch. What are they — ex-SAS?’

  ‘Goodness me, no. Just good citizens, Tu. You say they weren’t hurt at all then? Thank heavens!’

  ‘Hmmm. I believe the man — Wiremu — might have grazed a knee when diving into the third floor window of the suite. Otherwise, nothing. But their dog almost killed the kid in the hallway, and the big guy in the bedroom is still out cold.’ He leant forward. ‘Tim, there are clearly connections here. They claim they came to meet a Napier schoolboy called Matiu Douglas, but instead found three men in Douglas’s room. None of the hotel staff saw the men arrive and have no idea how they got into the room. The manager wants it hushed up because it implies the hotel isn’t secure. Fat chance! There were more cameras flashing than at a Peter Jackson premiere.’

  Spriggs waved a hand airily. ‘I understand one got away?’

  ‘Yeah. A lowlife from Taupo called Evan Tomoana.’ Hollis frowned. ‘Which is where it gets interesting: last Sunday, two of these guys were done for assault in Taupo — Tomoana and Ronnie Symes, the big guy who was KO’d in the bedroom. They got bailed from Taupo, and then failed to show up at the station on Thursday. We got an anonymous tip that they were in town, having kidnapped a missing girl, Hine Horatai. Know the name?’

  Timothy Spriggs shook his head, and motioned for Hollis to continue.

  ‘The person they were arrested for beating up was the same Matiu Douglas, son of a Napier lawyer, who was visiting his mother in Taupo. These names familiar, Tim?’

  Spriggs grinned. ‘Everyone knows Tama Douglas.’

  Hollis rolled his eyes again. ‘Indeed. The lowlife’s lawyer of choice in the Hawke’s Bay. Anyway, it’s the Douglas kid’s room. He hasn’t come back, by the way. But wait, there’s more! The assault that Tomoana and Symes got done for was apparently over Tomoana’s girlfriend, who is — you guessed it — the missing Hine Horatai! She went missing Sunday night, right after the fight. It seems our colleagues in Taupo misplaced her while delivering her to the women’s refuge. And this morning Taupo station got an anonymous message telling us the Horatai girl was in Rotorua. But nothing is truly anonymous anymore: the call came from the telephone of Colleen O’Connor, Matiu Douglas’s mother.’ Hollis rubbed his eyes. ‘So, it’s nearly midnight here in Roto-Vegas, and we have ourselves a few problems, I’m thinking.’

  ‘Not any more, Tu. I’m here to make your problems go away.’ Spriggs pushed some papers across the desk. ‘All of your problems, just by signing these.’

  Hollis sighed mournfully over the papers, wincing slightly at the name on the bottom. Way too high up! ‘Tim, at the least I’m obliged to impound the dog: it could have killed that kid. It’s a potential threat to public safety. So are these friends of yours, in my opinion.’

  Tim Spriggs stood up. ‘Tu, my friend, I give you my word of honour that they are not vigilantes. I’ll take them into my custody, usual guarantees and all that. And I don’t think you need worry about the dog. I’d be awfully grateful if you could keep a sharp lookout for Douglas and Horatai. And of course, bring in that rotter Tomoana if you can.’

  Hollis studied the letters, and reflected that he had no choice. He felt oddly relieved. ‘You really do have some guardian angels in Wellington, don’t you, Tim?’ Hollis signed the papers quickly, and pushed them back to Spriggs. ‘Okay, okay, take them away, and don’t let me see them again. The Labrador’s out the back with the police dogs. They seem to like him, funnily enough.’

  ‘I should think so, he’s a lovely fellow. Good evening to you then, Tu. Thank you, and don’t work too hard, old bean.’ They shook hands firmly, Spriggs’s smile slowly infecting Hollis’s lugubrious face.

  Hollis shook his head as the tall Englishman went through into the interview room beyond, to be greeted by joyous exclamations from the young couple. Out back the dogs all began to bark h
appily.

  Oh, to be loved wherever you go, he thought ruefully. What normal policeman ever has that privilege?

  Spriggs took Wiri, Kelly and Fitzy to a private lounge of the famous, or infamous, Red Deer tavern in Aotearoa-Rotorua, in the smallish European part of the settlement. The Red Deer had a dodgy reputation for bad whisky and gunpowder smuggling. Although it was well after midnight, the tavern remained open and, judging from the noise from the taproom below, well patronized.

  It was only the second time they had got together since they had aided Mat’s flight north a year ago, but the prevailing mood was worry. Spriggs knew Aethlyn Jones better than Wiri and Kelly, and they drank a quiet toast to him.

  ‘Mat thought Jones might be alive,’ Kelly stated.

  ‘He may not be dead,’ Spriggs agreed. ‘Judging from what you said Mat saw. I for one have learned to assume the best when it comes to Aethlyn Jones.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Wiri replied. Fitzy mewled softly from the floor — turehu weren’t popular here so he was staying in dog form.

  ‘I say, Wiri,’ said Spriggs, ‘I’m surprised at you bringing your lovely wife into this situation in her, ahem, delicate condition!’

  ‘She’s not so delicate, actually. I tried to insist she stayed in Wellington, and nearly found myself divorced over it.’ Wiri glanced at Kelly, smiling slowly.

  ‘He would have come alone, the thick-headed dork, and then where would he have been, huh?’ scowled Kelly. ‘You men have such delusions of adequacy. Wiri thinks he’s still immortal, and can charge a roomful of gunmen armed only with a patu and still come out the winner.’

  Wiri looked at Tim as if to say ‘See what I’m up against?’

  Kelly took a swallow of orange juice with no enjoyment, and glared at her swollen belly. ‘Sooner this bloody lump’s out, the sooner I can have a long, glorious double brandy and feel human again.’ She looked at the others. ‘So, where’s our Matty?’

  ‘Hollis has the Rotorua police looking out for him on his side,’ Spriggs told her. ‘But we’ll need to hunt in Aotearoa, too. I can enlist some Aotearoa constabulary to have a look round, but they will struggle to get anyone here ’til after sunrise.’

  ‘Parukau spoke like he knew Mat,’ said Wiri. ‘He must’ve got outta that dog-binding when Puarata died. Last time I saw him was back in the 1890s.’

  ‘Ahhh, the 1890s,’ Spriggs sighed reminiscently. ‘Good times.’

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ Wiri grumped. ‘I was bodyguarding the tohunga makutu, remember? Grubby, nasty decade.’

  ‘You’re a pair of relics!’ Kelly complained. She swirled her glass thoughtfully. ‘So, who’s Parukau?’

  Wiri gave her a potted history, and Kelly thought it over. ‘Why would Parukau want Mat? If Parukau took over this Tomoana-guy after his fight with Matty, then he wouldn’t care about Tomoana’s petty vendettas.’

  ‘Also, they weren’t prepared for serious resistance,’ said Wiri. ‘Apart from Parukau, they didn’t have a clue what they were doing. They were amateurs.’

  ‘They were morons,’ agreed Kelly. ‘I don’t think they had any more idea where Matty is than we do. So, what’s going on? Who is this Hine chick you mentioned, Tim? Any idea? I got a bit out of Mat when he phoned, but he was pretty cut-up over Jones.’

  ‘I’ve no idea, Kelly my dear. If Aethlyn was sheltering her, then she must be someone of potential. Someone like young Mat, I suppose.’

  ‘And Mat said that it was Donna Kyle behind the attack on he and his mother, and probably the second wave of attackers at Jones’s cottage,’ Wiri reminded them.

  ‘I guess the theory that Matty and Hine are locked away somewhere making mad passionate love can be discarded,’ Kelly joked half-heartedly.

  The men half-smiled. ‘Splendid thought, my dear,’ said Spriggs, ‘but, no, it doesn’t fit the facts.’

  Wiri nodded grimly. ‘I think there is a crossfire going on here. Kyle, Parukau, maybe others.’ He turned to Spriggs. ‘What help can we get, Tim?’

  Spriggs looked concerned. ‘There’s the rub, old boy. Puarata used to come here, and folk are afraid to get involved. There are not a lot of resources we can call on. The soldiery on this side are primarily mercenaries, and Venn has been doing most of the hiring. The only other manpower here are the local tribes and they’re staying out of it. They’ve been burned by the warlocks too often.’

  ‘There’s no justice, there’s just us, huh?’ said Kelly.

  ‘Well, maybe. I’ll see what I can do. I’m going to see if anyone in the pa saw anything. I’ve booked you a room in the real world, and I’ll be back to check on you in the morning. Don’t try ringing Mat’s cellphone until morning, when we can rig up a few devices to trace any answer we get. Okay?’

  They sat in silence, and contemplated their helplessness. Finally Wiri sat up a little. ‘That sounds fine, Tim. I’ll make a few calls, too, then we’ll get some sleep, yeah?’

  ‘It’s not much of a plan, Stan,’ rhymed Kelly, tiredly.

  ‘It’s all we can do for now,’ said Wiri. He patted Kelly’s belly. ‘Let’s all get some rest, and pick things up in the morning.’

  Fitzy stretched. ‘You can. I’m going to go and have a sniff around. Literally.’ He padded towards the stairs. ‘My nose can find things your dull human senses cannot,’ he said smugly. ‘I’ll find Mat if anyone can.’

  Bargaining points

  Friday, pre-dawn

  Parukau liked Tomoana’s body. It was muscular, virile, and Evan Tomoana was of a like nature to himself. It was a good alliance, a strong symbiosis. He wanted to keep it. But, damnation, it hurt! The shoulder was a mess, and he was bleeding dangerously from the bullet wound. The three-storey fall had broken ribs, a collarbone and his left ankle. He probably had concussion, too, judging by the double vision.

  When he woke, he was amazed that his spirit had not been torn loose already from this body — anything and anyone could have slain him as he lay behind the buildings of main street Aotearoa-Rotorua. He had been lucky. Evidently people didn’t venture out after dark for any reason around here.

  He wondered dimly if Deano and Ronnie had lived or died, but he didn’t really care. Another world-shift right now could just about finish him off. He was essentially a disembodied spirit, and psychic exhaustion was more dangerous to him than physical punishment. So he skirted the old town, limping along the lakefront, falling in and out of tepid mud pools until he was fouled and begrimed. He didn’t know if anyone saw him, but no-one challenged him. Problem was, he got dizzier and dizzier. Finally the ground swung up and smacked him, and everything went black again. It felt final.

  Parukau. Wake up!

  He shook his head. Damn, I know that voice … Old memories rose, and a face … Asher Grieve!

  Indeed, Parukau.

  You’re dead. The thought raised frightening implications. Am I dead?

  No, Parukau, you parasitic worm. Whatever claim you have on life, you still retain.

  All charm as ever, Asher … What do you want? Where are you, if you’re not dead? Then he smiled, as he realized the truth. No, wait … You’re chained up inside Te Iho!

  Indeed. Well done, old chap. But then, Te Iho was as much your idea as the Master’s. You’re quite right. After my fall from grace, I was locked up with the rest of his enemies. We were the wind beneath his wings.

  Parukau snorted without sympathy. Tough shit. I got locked inside a dog for a century. So, what do you want? He could picture Asher, the old Asher, primping and looking indignant.

  I didn’t choose to reveal myself to you for your pleasant conversation, Parukau. I have an offer for you. As it happens, I’m the only inmate here that knows about the other inmates. A couple have made contact with real-worlders, though. They don’t know I can hear everything they say. I’ve learnt much, here in the darkness. I can help you.

  The pain in his wrecked human body reminded Parukau of his predicament. But he remembered Asher Grieve, too. It had been the three of t
hem, back in the day: Puarata, tying up the Maori side of things, Asher working the missionaries and whalers and settlers, and Parukau the wildcard, the bodiless spy. As nasty a triumvirate as any Roman politico-tragedy. When I went after Puarata, you just looked the other way, you bastard, he growled at the presence in his mind.

  Yours was an ill-advised attempt. If you’d come to me we could have worked together. At least my coup had a chance, until my daughter betrayed me.

  Ahh. So that’s how that one went down … Did little Donna not play ball? Serve you right, you old fruitbat!

  No, she didn’t. And I will make her pay for that. I have a proposition for you. I understand you may have one half of the puzzle that is defeating you and her: how to lay claim to Te Iho … which as you now gather, means how to find me! Do you?

  Parukau lay in the mud in his failing body and thought about that. In his present state it didn’t take long. Yeah. I do.

  Tell me. The mental voice was deceptively disinterested.

  Like hell! I remember you, Asher: I don’t give info for nothing.

  My dear fellow, think about this. Currently either my vile daughter or that bastard Venn are poised to claim Te Iho. Will they release me? No! Will they let you live? No! So if either of us wishes to be free, we have to work together.

  Damn! He had to think this through, but pain was clouding his reason. Did you approach Donna?

  She hates me. What would be the point?

  Makes sense … Shit, what to do … Okay, yes: I have half the puzzle. But I need the other half.

  Then you shall have it! Tell me what you know, and I will reveal the other half …

  Despite the pain, he wasn’t going to fold that easy. Like hell — other way round, arsehole!

  Asher Grieve chuckled in his ear. Parukau, my friend. You have a girl in your custody; you think she is the key. For my part, I know where I am, but not how the door is opened … We each have half the puzzle. We have to find a way to work together.