The Spanish Helmet

by Greg Scowen

  ‘He’s been keeping an eye on you, trying to keep you on the right path,’ Warren said. ‘But you’ve strayed Matthew, and so now I need you to hand me that jar.’

  ‘What right path? I came to New Zealand for you. I came here to help you prove that New Zealand’s history needed rewriting!’ The words left Matt’s mouth like a raging tide.

  ‘That’s right, I brought you here to do my work, but you’ve chosen to work against me. You were supposed to show that the Celts found New Zealand first, not the Spanish. That’s why you now have to give me that jar.’

  ‘There’s nothing in this jar that interests you.’

  ‘Everything in that jar interests me if it furthers theories other than the Celts being here first.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I have a lot to gain if I can prove that the Celts were here before the Maori. My investments will see some great tourism revenue.’

  The penny dropped, so did Matt’s jaw. He looked at the faces around him, registering mixed emotions on all of them. Even Drew appeared to be overcome with confusion as he shuffled his feet and looked around nervously. Matt decided he had to take control.

  ‘Give me the jar, Matt!’ Warren demanded in a voice that had lost any friendliness.

  ‘No!’ Matt stood firm. ‘You’ll never have this jar, nor will you ever touch its contents.’ He continued confidently, feeling the paper pressing against his leg inside his pocket.

  ‘Then you leave me with no choice.’

  In one sweeping movement, Warren grabbed Aimee and pulled her sharply to his side. By the time Matt realised what was happening, it was too late. Warren had pulled a gun and was holding it to Aimee’s chest as he held her tightly against himself. He edged her closer to the cliff. Matt briefly had visions of her being thrown to her death. Or Warren shooting her.

  ‘Don’t do this, Warren.’ Drew’s voice surprised Matt. ‘This is not the way. You’re only making trouble for yourself.’ Matt could see and hear the effects of adrenaline in Drew. Warren seemed to notice it too and his gun shifted focus on him.

  ‘You stay out of this boy. You’ve got no idea who you’re dealing with.’

  ‘Warren, let her go!’ Matt pleaded. ‘There really is nothing in the jar.’

  But it was too late. With a pounce that caught Matt off-guard, Hemi threw himself towards Warren in an attempt to remove his gun. He didn’t make it. The shot rang out around the gully. In the few seconds of silence that followed, Matt watched, sickened, as Drew collapsed to the ground like a giant tree being felled. In Warren’s grip, Aimee too was breathing very heavily, her chest heaving with emotion. Warren practically held her up now. She looked up at him with pleading eyes. Fear of being next, Matt guessed. Warren had clearly lost control. The gun turned on Matt. Mere seconds from the first shot had passed when the second shot rang out. Matt felt it simultaneously with the sound.

  CHAPTER

  50

  Friday, August 19, 1527

  We have found the straits again. The same as those we came through shortly before the beaching at Whareakeake. This time we have been able to enter the harbour here, on the northern land-mass. So, it seems that Hine is correct about us living on an island. It remains to be confirmed that the northern land-mass is also an island. If it is, where is the third island? Our island, the southerly one, is approximately 225 leagues long, north to south, and has a breadth of about 70 leagues. The coastlines on either side follow a consistent north-east to south-west line, so it appears the island has a fairly regular breadth throughout.

  Before we entered the straits, one of the men created a disturbance through violence towards his fellow crew. We knew not a reason for his outburst. Possibly he has gone mad. The master at arms made preparations to put him in shackles but the man threw himself overboard. The last we saw of him, he was madly swimming toward the nearby coast of the southern land mass. I don’t expect he will last long, as there was fairly quickly a canoe heading in his direction. We had neither desire nor possibility to make chase.

  We have been anchored in the harbour since yesterday. The men have used the time productively to collect shellfish and catch some of the other tasty fish we have come to know so well. Some gulls and other birds are also to be had here. We are near a river, which is filling our barrels with clean fresh water. We have to press on though. The natives have seen us and aren’t at all welcoming like the gentle souls in Whareakeake. Rather, a group of men came down to the water’s edge and waved their clubs at the ship and started dancing a Haka, the war dance of the Waitaha. We will sail on the tide, which will turn in an hour. Hopefully they won’t attack before that time. We will sail out of the straits and travel north on the eastern coast, since we have previously seen that of the west.

  CHAPTER

  51

  Matt stood on the spot for what seemed an eternity. Why would Warren do this? Why isn’t it more painful? Surely a bullet ripping through your body hurts more than this.

  He stared at Warren in shock.

  Warren returned his stare with the same look of horror and confusion. Then, as Aimee broke free from his weakening grasp, Warren slumped to the ground clutching at his chest. The ground didn’t catch him. The weight and direction of his fall tipped him over the edge of the cliff. He fell to the rocks below with a muted thump. Matt continued to stare in disbelief at the void that remained where Warren had stood.

  Aimee was on her feet, looking over the cliff edge. Hemi lay in a bloody heap on the ground. Sirens wailed as cars bumped down the road towards the beach.

  Matt walked over to the cliff, completely oblivious now to his fear. He looked down and saw Warren’s body among the rocks below. His blood spilled into the sea. His head was badly messed up with blood, and his chest was drenched in the stuff. If the shot to the heart hadn’t killed him, the fall would have. Matt felt the tingly sensation of bile rising to his throat moments before he threw up.

  The next thing he knew, Aimee was at his side.

  ‘Are you OK, Matt?’ Aimee asked, her voice calm and assuring.

  ‘They’re dead.’ Matt said, his voice crossing the border of hysteria. ‘How can I be OK? What the hell just happened?’

  ‘Warren shot Drew.’

  ‘I know that!’ Matt exclaimed. ‘But who shot Warren?’

  The sirens stopped wailing as the police car and two black 4WDs arrived at the small car park. Beyond the hill above them, a helicopter was approaching. Aimee pulled at something in her pocket and showed it to Matt.

  ‘I imagine that it was one of our agents,’ Aimee said, as Matt stared at her DCI identity card in stunned silence.

  * * *

  The world was spinning. Voices were muffled and noises blurred together in a muddled mess. Hemi felt like he had been on a drinking binge. He shot me, Hemi thought. Warren, that bastard shot me. Twice. Hemi had counted the shots. He felt sleep coming, but fear told him to stay awake. You sleep, you die. He felt the warmth of the sun on his face. He felt the warmth of the bullet. Hemi had to live. He had to tell Matt what he knew. Matt didn’t know who he was dealing with. That is, of course, if Matt lived through the day.

  Hemi tried to hear what was being said around him but couldn’t make out any words. He couldn’t even tell whose voice belonged to whom. There was just that muffled drone. He concentrated on his pain. Why did he only feel the one wound? Did Warren shoot him twice in the same spot or did the second bullet miss? He knew he felt the first one as it ripped into his chest near the shoulder. ‘Drew?’ Hemi’s father said to him. ‘Drew?’

  That was it. Hemi knew he was dead. It felt terrible. He punched his thoughts to his father, because he couldn’t speak. I’m sorry Dad. I couldn’t get justice for you. I failed you.

  His head thumped. At first it was a gentle thump, but in the minutes that followed the thump got louder and harder. The sleep came on stronger now. The thumping was so present he could feel it on the outside of his body. The world around him trembled and the warmth of t
he sun disappeared from his face. He started to feel cold. The wind had picked up considerably. Hemi lay listening to the thumping, the only thing he could hear now. His father’s voice was gone. He was alone, again. Thump, thump, thump. He tried to open his eyes, but the sleep came instead.

  CHAPTER

  52

  They came up the path in a steady flow. There was a mixture of uniformed police and men in coveralls that had NISO printed in large writing on them. Leading the pack was the hard, unsmiling and familiar Colin Wolfe, whom Matt had met at Warren’s dig site. He nodded at Aimee and offered Matt his hand, as two of the NISO team ran to look over Hemi and another two set up abseiling gear to climb down to Warren. Matt didn’t know who the enemy was any more, so he took Wolfe’s hand and shook it.

  ‘Hello again, Dr. Cameron. Are you alright?’

  ‘I guess I am.’ Matt said, half-heartedly. ‘But I’d love to know what’s going on.’

  ‘And you, Aimee?’ Wolfe continued, practically shouting now, to be heard over the noise of the rescue helicopter that thumped the air above them.

  ‘I’m fine Hank, thanks.’ Aimee shouted through a smile.

  Matt watched the exchange with interest and distrust. How can he have been so blind and stupid as to let Aimee come along with him? He didn’t know her, and now she turned out to be working for the DCI, the very people who had tried to hinder their research. First Warren, now her... how could he trust again?

  ‘OK, Dr. Cameron,’ Wolfe said, turning to Matt. ‘Let’s go with Agent Peters from the NISO for a chat. He can debrief you on the case.’

  Matt followed Wolfe a few paces away to a group of men that stood around the body of Hemi, guiding his stretcher upwards towards the helicopter which winched him up. Wolfe put a hand on the shoulder of one of the men. The handsomely featured Maori turned and smiled reassuringly as the helicopter veered and thumped away over the hillside, the two bodies now both on board.

  ‘Will he live, Peters?’ Wolfe asked the man.

  ‘I hope so,’ Peters responded, his face showing signs of emotion blended with determination, ‘He’s a strong man.’

  Matt saw what looked like a real glint of respect in Peters’ eyes when he spoke about Drew.

  ‘And Rennie?’

  ‘No, we shot to kill.’

  Matt thought he might throw up again. Wolfe turned to Matt.

  ‘Dr. Matthew Cameron, this is Agent Peters, Deputy Director of the NISO.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you Dr. Cameron,’ Peters said, extending his hand.

  Matt wasn’t sure if the pleasure would be shared, but he took Peters’ hand anyway.

  ‘And this is Aimee Kingsbridge,’ Wolfe continued. ‘She’s one of ours.’

  Peters faced Aimee to shake her hand, but Aimee didn’t take it. She stared at him, horrified.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Peters asked.

  ‘You’re Constable King!’ Aimee said. ‘Drew’s father, you’re supposed to be dead.’

  Matt watched, bewildered, as a look of sorrow mixed with frustration dressed Peter’s face. Agent Wolfe looked confused.

  ‘I guess we have some explaining to do,’ Peters said. ‘Let’s go down here to the bay and I’ll fill you in what has been going on.’ He led the way down the path.

  Matt glanced across at Aimee. She looked as confused as he felt but it didn’t soften his hurt. She had betrayed him. Was this all a game to her? Did she care about him at all, or was that just part of her cover? They followed Peters, or King, whatever his name was today, down to the beach. When they got down to solid ground again, Matt turned to Peters and waited to be ‘filled in.’

  ‘The first thing you need to know.’ Peters said, ‘is that Warren Rennie was not what he seemed. We’ve been watching him for over eight years now, waiting for him to make a mistake. He made it today.’

  ‘But why were you watching him? Just because you don’t want to have to rewrite New Zealand’s history?’

  ‘No, no.’ Wolfe jumped in. ‘This has nothing to do with rewriting history. I know Warren Rennie pedalled that crackpot conspiracy theory, but believe me, the DCI is just as ready to rewrite history as the next man, if plausible evidence comes to light.’

  ‘It’s true, Matt, I kept trying to tell you but I couldn’t tell you how I knew,’ Aimee said.

  ‘Warren believed he had plausible evidence,’ Matt said, not wanting to give too much away about the Spanish Helmet, if his findings weren’t already common knowledge. Aimee had surely seen to that though.

  ‘And therein lies the problem with Warren Rennie,’ Peters said, rejoining the conversation.

  ‘How so?’ Matt asked.

  ‘The mirror.’

  Matt was shocked. How did the DCI and NISO know about the mirror? Aimee?

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘The mirror, that ancient Celtic relic that Warren used to bring you all the way here on his wild goose chase, is a stolen artefact from a museum back on your home turf, England.’

  ‘It can’t be. You must be mistaken. Warren would never do something like that!’

  ‘Would Warren pull a gun on you?’

  Matt stood silently in thought. Peters had a point. Matt had no idea what Warren was capable of... had been capable of. Warren Rennie really wasn’t what he had appeared to have been.

  ‘If you knew he had stolen that mirror, why didn’t you arrest him already?’

  ‘We didn’t know for sure, not until yesterday when Hemi, I mean Drew, reported in. It was then that he also called us in for backup. He was worried about what Rennie might be capable of and knew you were coming here today.’

  ‘But Drew, your son, was working for Warren. He told us that.’

  ‘No, he had to make it look that way, for Warren’s sake. He’s been undercover, investigating Warren. But Agent Davis has also been trying to protect you from him.’

  ‘Unbelievable, I don’t know what to think anymore. First I discover the man I looked up to as a father for the better part of my life is nothing he appears. Then I learn that the woman I just fell in love with is spying on me for the DCI, and now I find out the guy trying to kill me is actually protecting me from the man I thought I knew and loved. Then to top it off, his dead father is alive and his boss! This day just can’t get any stranger.’

  ‘This day, anyhow,’ Agent Peters said, with a cheeky smile. ‘But Hemi reported that he had a lot more important information to provide. Trouble is, we have to wait until he regains consciousness to find out what that means, and there are going to be a few other things on his mind when he wakes up.’

  ‘I don’t understand, Mr. Davis,’ Aimee said. ‘You were killed in jail. I was in Hemi’s class at school, we all heard what happened.’

  ‘Please, call me Agent Peters. You heard a fabricated story. Warren Rennie was responsible for me going to jail for crimes I didn’t commit. Luckily for me, some people in the right places knew I was innocent. It was arranged for me to take the fall and to disappear into our own little underworld. I’ve been with the NISO ever since and worked my way up.’

  ‘But what about Drew? Your death, fake death, ruined him.’

  ‘Did it?’ Agent Peters asked. ‘Would you say that being groomed to become one of the best sleeper agents the NISO has ever seen was a bad thing? Was losing all that weight, getting fit, and serving his country without question, not rewarding? Drew has come out fine. I’ve watched him grow from a boy into a man. My only regret was not being able to share my pride with him.’

  ‘But he didn’t have his father,’ Aimee said. ‘Without my father I’d be a mess. Everyone needs a father.’

  Matt cringed, he had heard enough.

  ‘Do you think Drew has information about me that he needs to reveal?’ Matt asked, concerned his efforts in the Spanish direction might have been in vain.

  ‘No, we imagine he just wants to tell us more about what he’s learned from Rennie. It likely has nothing to do with you or your research into the Spanish Helmet or a consequen
t Spanish discovery of New Zealand.’ Wolfe answered for Peters.

  ‘You know about my work then?’ Matt felt stupid for asking.

  ‘Of course we do, both Drew and Aimee saw to that. Not that either of them knew of the other’s agency affiliation. But don’t worry, Dr. Cameron, we’re not going to stand in the way of your father’s work. Of course, we want to know if anything interesting crops up.’

  Matt stared at Aimee in disbelief. She had told them everything. He was so angry with himself for trusting her, for loving her. At the same time, he was relieved his research wasn’t jeopardised. ‘Sure,’ he said, ‘as soon as I have anything concrete, I’ll make sure you’re the first to know.’

  ‘Alright,’ Peters said, handing Matt his and Wolfe’s cards. ‘We’re done here. We’ll be in touch if we need you. Likewise, don’t hesitate to contact either one of us if you need anything.’

  Peters turned to Aimee. ‘For your own good, you never saw me. I was killed in prison, just like you always knew. Do you understand?’

  ‘Of course I understand, but you’ll tell Drew now, right?’

  ‘Yes, now that Rennie’s dead, it’s safe for Drew to know that I’m alive. If he had known before, chances are it would’ve caused problems with our investigation. Besides, I wanted Drew to hate the man as much as I did.’

  ‘It seems to have worked. I just hope your son can forgive you. But yes, your secret is safe with me.’

  Matt wasn’t sure any secret was safe with Aimee.

  With that they parted ways. As Matt walked towards his car, the jar tucked under his arm, he realised that Aimee was still beside him.

  ‘I guess you’ll be leaving me now?’

  ‘Is that what you want?’

  ‘Well, isn’t your work here done?’ Matt asked, hoping the hurt didn’t show in his voice.

  Aimee stopped him by gently holding his arm. ‘My work is not my only reason for being here, I want to be here. I’m a part of this, DCI or no DCI. It’s as important to me to get to the bottom of this mystery as it is to you. I also meant everything I said about us. Can’t we continue to work together?’