by Nick Spill
“Okay,” Bruce agreed. “Tony is doing some research at his office today. We’ll know more tonight. Then we’ll have to meet and decide if we pack it all up. It’s a big job.”
“Yeah. I know.” Chuck spoke with no trace of irony. “I planted them. Remember?”
• • •
Hei Hei had fallen asleep on top of Moana. She was naked on the carpet in the living room and she could smell his breath very clearly as his chin dug into her shoulder. His stomach pressed into her groin, but his elbows and knees took some of his weight off her. She could feel his semen oozing down the inside of her thighs. She had no privacy, no freedom and a new job that terrified her. Each new man who walked into her tiny massage cubicle was another drunken nightmare.
She heard footsteps coming down the path. Moana squeezed out from under him. He grunted and his face sunk into the carpet. There was a loud knock on the door as she put on her dress.
Hei Hei grunted again and rose up on his elbows.
“I’ll answer it,” he muttered.
There was another loud knock. Hei Hei, his jeans were around his ankles, attempted to walk towards the door. He stumbled but caught himself. He pulled up his jeans, pushed back his shoulders, stuck out his ample stomach and marched to the door. He flung it open to see two well-built Chinese men burning holes in him with their eyes. Hei Hei looked from one to the other then down at his jeans. He realized his fly was undone and he tried to zip it up with both hands without them noticing. The two young men wore light nylon jackets that were open to show black T-shirts. They waited for Hei Hei to open his mouth.
Hei Hei raised his eyebrows, which elicited a response he had not anticipated. A front snap kick hit him in the solar plexus. If he had not possessed such a large stomach he would have collapsed in the doorway. Instead he was propelled back to the sofa where he slumped down. He had not been winded since playing front row forward in his high school rugby team. He tried to regain his breath while eyeing the two strangers. He seethed with anger that someone had dared attack Hei Hei, the great Maori poet.
The two men stepped inside and one shut the door behind him and noticed Moana. She covered her mouth with both her hands and retreated slowly into the background.
“Where’s Plum Blossom?” Ricky Wong, the kicker, addressed the gasping Hei Hei. He was bent over, holding his stomach with one hand, stunned. His other hand hung down from the sofa almost touching the carpet.
“Who?” Hei Hei replied.
“Plum Blossom. You’se know where she is.”
The wounded Maori rubbed his stomach and tried not to show his pain. He reached down under the sofa with his right hand and pulled out a four-foot long chain. He unfurled it as he leapt up and swung it over his head. The chain caught Ricky’s elbow as he tried to step back. He let out a yell. Martin came forward, one hand inside his nylon jacket.
Hei Hei thought the chain would scare them off and impress Moana.
The younger visitor drew out a pair of nunchaku. He twirled the wooden baton above his head then executed a figure eight in front of him as he advanced on the Maori. Hei Hei was transfixed by the speed of the nunchaku. Then he leapt to one side and thrashed out with the chain.
Hei Hei planned to strike the weaponless one in the face with his next chain lash then whack the other across the room. Who could withstand an attack from him? He felt the chain whip through the air and graze the wooden handle of the spinning nunchaku. The young one threw the chuck above his head, spun around and aimed the edge of his right foot into Hei Hei’s chin. The Maori staggered backwards as the attacker put both feet forwards and swung his nunchaku across the side of Hei Hei’s face, catching his left ear. He dropped his chain and collapsed to his knees, his face in agony. The inside of his head made so much noise he could not scream.
Moana, terrified by the violence, let out a piercing cry. Martin, poised with his nunchaku raised with both hands above Hei Hei, waited to deliver the final blow.
“Don’t!” the other yelled, clutching his elbow in pain. He walked over to the fallen Maori and rested his shoe on the Maori’s heaving chest, causing enough pressure on the sternum to make Hei Hei grimace even more. He spoke very slowly.
“I want you, to tell the others, that we want, Plum Blossom back. You understand?”
Hei Hei moaned. His left ear, his entire face throbbed in pain.
Ricky turned to Moana and motioned her to the door. She picked up her canvas shoulder bag with her purse in it and stood by the door.
“You’re coming with us. Don’t be afraid. We won’t hurt you.” The one with the nunchaku stood guard over the Maori, the chain between the batons rattled in his hand.
Hei Hei tried to move when he saw her led out of the apartment. His attacker walked over to the telephone and ripped the cord out of the wall. He threw the telephone at Hei Hei, hitting him in the stomach. The telephone bounced off and spread across the carpet in pieces.
“Call up your friends and tell them to bring us Plum Blossom,” he yelled before slamming the door. Hei Hei’s head fell back as he passed out.
Moana walked quietly to the car. Her arms were folded across her chest. She did not want to be touched by them.
Ricky drove them up Bassett Drive. She sat in the back seat of their white Holden. Her two unknown assailants were in the front and seemed to ignore her. Never in all her dreams did she imagine she would leave Hei Hei like this.
Moana could not keep her eyes off the back of Ricky’s strong neck and his wide shoulders. She caught glimpses of his clear face in the rearview mirror as he drove through Newmarket.
Ricky parked the car by one of the few remaining Victorian houses on Grafton Road, shut off the engine and turned to face the perplexed Maori girl. Moana squirmed in her seat and suddenly realized she was not wearing any underwear.
“Wong House.”
It was a family joke. Ricky and Martin never failed to laugh, and they did now, despite the confused look of their passenger.
• • •
“There’s some tea there. Pour yourself some and then I’ll cook you some eggs. You had quite a sleep.”
“You know, Mel, I don’t want to exploit your sense of charity, but I must look for a new place today, get my bank account in order and move out, I mean.”
“Just stop there.” Mel stood up and raised her hand. “I invited you to stay. Your first priority is to find Plum. We’ll help you. I’m off work for a few days. So how do you want your eggs?”
“Over easy. Thank you.”
“I better be going over to see Wiremu. He’s going to the tangihanga this afternoon,” she said as she served him.
“Where?” Clovis asked.
“Mangere. That’s the nearest marae. Wiremu didn’t want his brother transported up north for some reason and thought he should be laid to rest here where all his followers are.”
“How do you know Wiremu’s address? He never told us.”
“Retired physicist’s secret.”
“Tell him,” Mel shot out.
“Okay. I got it from my lawyer.”
“He never told you.”
“Not in so many words.”
“You mean you got it when you went to the bathroom?”
“Yeah.” Henry smiled.
“I thought you were gone a long time. Your own attorney!”
“Well, I couldn’t put him in a situation where he’d have to breach a confidence. And I don’t want him knowing what we’re up to. Because then he might breach our confidence.”
“Before I forget, Matthew, that’s the guy who lent me his car that I left on the Motorway. Well, to cut a long story short, I’m going to play on Friday with his new band, Particle Board, at the Gluepot on Ponsonby and Jervois Road. You know the pub?”
“Yes. Three Lamps. I’m a little off pubs lately.” Henry pulled a face, more of a grimace than a frown.
“The reason I want to play there is there’s always lots of Maoris and some rough characters hanging around
. I want to talk to some people, see if I can get wind of anything.”
“That’s good. We’ll go too and hear you play. What do you think, dear?” Henry watched Clovis wipe the plate clean with the last of his bread.
“Let’s go.” Mel got up from the table and turned to Clovis. “You better stay here.”
“But I spent six days with him locked up in my house. When it was standing,” Clovis protested.
“Someone might call. You never know. And you can do the dishes. We’ll be right back.”
• • •
Henry sat with his arms folded as Mel drove through the late morning traffic across Mount Eden to Parnell.
“Are you quiet because you’re not driving?” Mel asked as she maneuvered between a Toyota truck and an old Ford flat top.
“No. I like being driven, reminds me of taxis in New York.”
“I’m not that crazy a driver. And I speak perfect English.”
“I’m thinking of, oh, the time you drove me up Mount Eden for our last good-bye. And mixed up with that is a feeling of doom about Plum. She was, I mean, is, so sweet, but not innocent. You know?”
“Yes.” Of course she knew. She had examined Plum. And she wanted to forget that comment about the last good-bye on top of Mount Eden. That memory stirred up too many emotions.
“It’s a peculiar but very attractive mix.”
Mel did not reply. She changed down gears and stopped at a red light behind a van.
“Now, Moana.”
“Who’s Moana?” Mel shot out.
“The masseuse. The Maori girl I told you about at the Flamingo Paradise.”
Mel slipped into first gear and turned down Ayr Street.
“Well, Moana really reacted when she saw my pendant.”
“The one Wiremu gave you?”
“It was as if she had seen it before, under much different circumstances.”
“But you’ve been in the States for years.”
“Exactly. So she’s a relative of Wiremu. A cousin, I think.”
“What about Plum?” Mel changed the subject.
“Just a feeling that some awful violence is going to happen.”
“I hope not. I just can’t reconcile that giant Pakeha with those blue eyes coming at me, you know, I can still see them when I close my eyes. I mean, who swapped the bodies? How did Wiremu’s brother get there? Someone must have driven him. They didn’t find a car of his at Clovis’s house.”
“Whoever swapped the bodies must’ve off’d Hone. It was probably that big guy.”
“Who works for Terry the Turk.”
“Yes.”
“If that’s the case, we should check in with that Inspector, er, Grimble.”
“No. Don’t trust him. At all. He’s playing his own little game and you’re just a little piece, a pawn. He’ll use you, and besides, you omitted certain facts from your statement, right?”
“Right.”
“If we’re going to find Plum we’re better off without the cops. Here, this is it. Just park over there.”
As Henry eased out of the car, he leaned across the roof to stare at Mel. “Promise me you won’t call him.”
“Promise. But I don’t know how you know that. You’ve never met him.”
Henry shrugged his shoulders and walked down the overgrown lane to the house. The front door was open, and Henry saw the beeswax candle still burning by the empty chair where Wiremu had sat. He checked the rest of the house. It was deserted.
“I know the other address. It’s up the road.”
“Let’s take the car.”
“Why?”
“Because we’ll have it,” Mel explained.
• • •
“You what?” Chuck Look paced up and down the kitchen then stopped to stare at the two Wong brothers seated at the kitchen table, surrounded by apple cores. They had consumed all the chocolate brownies and the milk from the three cartons that had been in the refrigerator.
“Hey!” Ricky slammed the milk carton down on the table. He licked his lips. “We agreed we would check out these Maoris, and we did. We just got lucky. Getting her will get them mad. When they get mad they’ll show us where Plum Blossom is. We’ll swap. One for the other. It’s that simple!” He raised his hands in a gesture of premature triumph.
“I can’t believe you’ve gone and kidnapped a girl, brought her to your own house and locked her in the front room full of weapons. Shit! You guys were always off the deep end.”
“What about her brothers, her tribe? Before you fly off the handle, why don’t you go in there and talk to her. Act the big dope dealer! She didn’t offer any resistance. If you ask me, she’s glad to get out of there. The guy she was with is a real asshole.”
“Well, what’s her name?” Chuck asked, controlling himself. Ricky turned to Martin who shrugged. Chuck looked down on his two cousins. This is what happens when you get the Wongs involved. After their mother died, they became total fuck ups. They work hard but don’t use their brains.
“She won’t bite you. We’ll wait here, so we don’t put you off.” Ricky winked at Chuck.
“What about the Maori? How did you know where to go?”
“We heard at the Wok that this joker worked for Wilson, so we tracked him down and stole his girl. Okay? Is that spelt out enough for you? Why don’t you go and talk to her. Act nice.”
• • •
Chuck took a deep breath and stormed out of the kitchen. That spring roll he had eaten last night had upset his stomach.
Moana sat on an unopened box of nunchaku. Her chin rested on her hands. She was thinking about her first night at the Flamingo Paradise and whether she would go there tonight. If she gave half her money to Hei Hei, did that make him a pimp? She had done nothing immoral, although she would be happy never to set foot in that place again. She never wanted to see another drunken farmer or Texan again. She thought about what the nice Pakeha had said to her, about Hone Wilson and Plum Blossom. What could all that have to do with these Chinese boys taking her here?
Chuck opened the door, slowly. His caution was unjustified. Moana had not tried the door or opened the curtains. She seemed unaware of his presence as he came into her view. He coughed and she jumped. She focused her eyes on him and was surprised to see such a timid face. None of the men who had whisked her away had had their faces covered up, so was she kidnapped or what? Not for one moment did she stop to consider Hei Hei lying immobilized on his dirty carpet, bleeding from the ear. She wished she had worn panties as she pressed her thighs together.
“What’s your name? I’m Chuck.”
“Moana Wilson.” She gave a quick smile to set the young man at ease. He was not as handsome as the driver, but his shyness made him attractive.
“Wilson?” He cursed the Wongs under his breath. The Wilsons! Who wanted to steal their marijuana! Typical! The Wongs were going to create a nasty situation.
“I’m Wiremu Wilson’s niece.” Moana knew the mere mention of her relative’s name would have an interesting effect on her host.
“Who was the man you were with?” Chuck asked tentatively.
“Oh, him,” she said, as if referring to a forgotten enemy. “He’s a friend of the Wilsons. Hei Hei. A real pig. I’ve been with him for a few weeks, so my parents aren’t too keen on me right now.”
“Oh.” Chuck did not know what to say next. “We’re businessmen. This is our warehouse.” He gestured with his hands around the room. She looked at the file cabinet, the desk, the stacks of cardboard boxes and the mutilated Bruce Lee poster with several throwing stars embedded in the wall. The irony of the gesture was lost on Moana. “What I mean is, we don’t want to hold you against your will, but we would like you to stay because we’ve, er, got some unfinished business and it would be best if you were here. Safe. You see?” Chuck did not know if what he had said made any sense to her.
Moana got off the box and straightened her dress. Somehow she had become involved in something very odd. The Pakeha
at the Flamingo, the attack on Hei Hei and now this veiled invitation to stay as their guest. All because of a woman named Plum Blossom. She picked up a fallen ninja star and threw it at Bruce Lee. It sank into his stomach.
“I’m hungry.” She turned to face Chuck. “Have you got anything to eat?”
• • •
“Now we’re going to have a whole bunch of bleeding Maoris coming down on us.” Chuck recounted what Moana had told him. He agreed she was attractive, even though her dress was awful. “Shit. She looks like she’s just come down from the country. She doesn’t have a clue. And she swears she doesn’t know who Plum Blossom is. So why hang on to her?”
“Because she is a Wilson, and if we let her go now she might tell her friends where we are. If we keep her here, at least we have a bargaining chip,” Ricky countered.
“What if Plum is not being held by Maoris? All Bruce got was an anonymous phone call. What if they are bluffing?” Martin added.
“Shit! Don’t you see what you’ve done?” Chuck addressed the Wongs. “If this Hei Hei finds out where you live, he’ll destroy you. These Maoris are heavy. Haven’t you heard of utu? It means revenge. It’s part of their culture.”
“Don’t worry,” Ricky replied. “I gave him a taste of my chucks. He won’t come back. Whenever I hear the word ‘culture,’ I reach for my chucks.” Martin laughed with him.
“Utu is central to their belief system. In the 19th century, whole tribes were fighting and eating each other all because of utu, addressing past wrongs. Shit! Now they’ll come after us!”
“Relax, Chuck.” Martin smiled. “No one is going to eat you. You’d taste of soya sauce.”
“Don’t underestimate them. They’ll find out where you took her and come and get her,” Chuck warned.
“I’m waiting.” Martin raised his hands and smiled. He was enjoying this. Right from the time he had hit the fat Maori.
• • •
Mel hesitated before she walked down the path to the other address.
“What?” Henry murmured as Mel turned to him.
“Hear that?”
Henry knocked on the door and yelled, “Wiremu? It’s Henry! Are you there?”