The Spanish Helmet (14 page)

‘Surely not.’
Nadine agreed with their father.

Matt grew uncomfortable with this conversation and steered it back to his father’s work. ‘What theories were you working on?’ That was a bit obvious, but it seemed to have the desired effect.

‘Mostly I dabbled with the theory that the Spanish discovered and populated New Zealand around 1536.’

‘You have it pinpointed down to a year?’

‘It’s a theory. If my theory is correct, then yes, they arrived here around 1536. It’s not as exciting as your Celts beating the Maori here, of course, but it’s still fascinating stuff.’

‘Did you get far?’

‘I was really close. But I had to give up.
My stroke.’

‘Dad got so emotionally involved in his work and the DCI gave him so much grief. Basically all of academia gave him a hard time. I said for years that they caused his stroke,’ Nadine said.

‘Yet you defend them?’

‘They’ve done a lot of good for the country. I could have gone about my research a little more quietly.’ His father answered for her.

‘What did you have, exactly?’

‘I had some concrete leads. It’s so long ago and I haven’t thought about it since.’ His father turned to him and beamed a huge smile. ‘Buy hey, why don’t you have a look at my notes? See if they’re of any interest to you?’

That was an idea worth some thought. Though in fact, it took Matt only a few seconds to decide. He already had his doubts about the strength of the evidence pointing to the Celts and they were now added to by his father’s and Aimee’s opinion that the mirror would become irrelevant due to non-disclosure. Now, with so much to support the Spanish theory, such as the helmet, the Pohutukawa in Spain, questions about hangis, kumara and kumara storage houses, gaining access to his father’s notes was just enough to push Matt to the tipping point. 

Matt straightened up in his chair. ‘I’d be very interested to look over your notes.’

‘You can go and get them.’

‘Where are they?’

‘Home,’ Nadine said, ‘the shed out the back.’

‘Your place?’

‘No, our place.
Where I grew up.
Down in Nelson.’

‘Nelson?
That’s in the South Island isn’t it?’ Matt asked, hoping his memory of the in-flight magazine map served him well.

‘At the top of it, yeah.
Three hours ferry from Wellington, and two hours’ drive.’

‘It would be a good excuse to see the country,’ Matt said, ‘and I have to admit things are drying up a little on the Celtic investigation.’

‘I think you’ll find that the Celtic investigation goes nowhere,’ Matt’s father said. ‘Will your friend by upset if you change tack, or are you a free agent?’

‘Free agent.
Besides, Warren is a great guy. He’s just out to make sure that New Zealand knows her true history, whatever that may be. He’s bound to want to tag along for the ride, he’s an enthusiast.’

‘Sounds like my kind of man.’

‘I guess I better write down some details then,’ Matt said. ‘Where is this shed exactly? How can I get access to the property? It isn’t yours anymore, is it?’

Nadine explained to Matt how their father had gifted the property to a lady who had lived next door to them for twenty years. She was more than happy to agree to his conditions and swap rental life for home ownership. The house was transferred into her
name,
on the condition that she keep the shed out the back intact at all times and leave Andy’s stuff in there in storage. If anyone ever came with the key for the shed, she was to give them access. It was Andy’s way of hiding his research in a property that wasn’t in his name. Besides, Nadine was in Auckland and Andy wanted to be near her.

Matt was impressed. His father and Nadine had concocted a clever arrangement to ensure their house and work was loved and looked over for years to come. The lady and her family would pass the house down as long as they kept breeding. It was not allowed to be sold for a profit.

‘Take these two keys, Matt,’ his father said, handing him a key ring he had retrieved from his bedside drawer. One of them opens the shed. The other..., well, I don’t want to say anything here. The walls have ears you know. After you’ve gone through the contents of the shed, you’ll know what to do.’

Matt clutched the keys to his chest. This felt important.
Very important.
It wasn’t just about getting in on a new theory and investigation. Something about this felt like it should be done, almost by way of penance, for all the hatred he had felt towards the man sitting in front of him.
A man that obviously had love overflowing, and deserved the same in return.
Matt knew what he had to do. He would start planning in the morning.

  * * *

Hemi sat outside the care home, enjoying the view. He knew that Andy Robertson was in residence in the home. Leigh had pulled through, as always, and supplied Hemi with a full dossier on the Robertson family. Two parts of the information were particularly interesting. Unfortunately, that meant putting in a call to Warren. He picked up his mobile and dialled.

‘Good morning, Hemi.’  Warren seemed particularly chirpy today. That will change, Hemi thought.

‘Good Morning Sir,’ Hemi said, flattering Warren. ‘I have some very important information for you.

‘Go ahead.’ He still sounded as happy as a box of birds.

‘I’m sitting outside a rest home in Browns Bay. Dr. Cameron is inside the rest home, visiting with a terminally ill man by the name of Andy Robertson.’

‘Yes?’

‘Andy Robertson is Dr. Cameron’s father.’

‘That’s nice for him,’ Warren said, in a voice that made Hemi feel momentarily small.
I’ll teach you, you old bastard
, he thought as he took a breath for his second revelation.

‘The name doesn’t mean anything to you then?’ Hemi asked, eating up the moment.

‘What name?’

‘Andy Robertson.’

‘No. Why? Should it?’ The worry started to show. Hemi went in for the kill.

‘Andy Robertson was what some at the government might refer to as an annoyance.
A pseudo-historian.’

‘Are you serious? What theory was he pushing?’

‘The Spanish theory.’
Hemi said it as bluntly as he could,
pushing
the knife all the way home and twisting it a little for good measure.

Warren didn’t respond. He wasn’t silent though. Hemi heard him curse at the other end of the phone. There was also the sound of something thumping repeatedly and a keyboard being finger-bashed like there was no tomorrow.

‘Where did you get your information? God, I should have bloody looked him up when I found out his name.’

‘My sources remain private. You wouldn’t have employed me if I was in the habit of revealing my contacts. It’s a matter of integrity, you know.’ Hemi loved every second of this. He knew that there was probably no worse news that he could give Warren than the titbit he had just delivered. There was a minute of silence as Warren caught up with Hemi.

‘We have to be very careful,’ Warren said, ‘and we have to hope that Andy Robertson doesn’t have too much influence over his son.’

‘My understanding is that they’re estranged.’

‘Not anymore,’ Warren growled. ‘Fuck it! This is all we bloody need!’

Hemi stifled an amused laugh.

‘So the father had a stroke eh? Care home in Browns Bay. Well, if things get out of hand he shouldn’t be too hard to take care of.’

‘What are you suggesting?’

‘Stroke victims are forever getting nasty illnesses. Don’t worry about it Hemi, I’ll take care of things if it comes to that, I have my ways. In the mean time, you keep watching Dr. Cameron. If he starts going too seriously down this Spanish track, I want to be the first person to know. You understand?’

‘Yes.’ Hemi hung up the phone. He understood.
A little too well for his liking.

Butterflies were flying special formations in Matt’s stomach. He had rehearsed numerous variations of the first line of this conversation in his head, but when push came to shove, he couldn’t execute the way he had planned.

‘I was thinking about taking a bit of a sightseeing tour down south.’ No, that didn’t sound right after all. Too late now though.

‘Oh yeah?’
Warren turned to him, looking interested. ‘Getting sick of me already then?’

‘Not at all.’
Matt started defensively, before realising from the grin on Warren’s face that he was joking.

‘It isn’t a problem, Matt. I want you to get to know New Zealand. Where are you heading?’

This was it. Matt had to take the bull by the horns and tell Warren what he was up to. He wasn’t going to mention that he had heard from Julia. The mirror had been confirmed to be Celtic and the type of object that would be associated with a burial site. But, as Matt had expected, the museum and the department had suggested that he proceed with caution. Professor Pick was apparently having a field day after he heard the news. He knew that an item such as this mirror had no archaeological context.
For it to be taken seriously, there needed to be a lot more evidence suggesting a Celtic occupation in New Zealand.
Either that evidence didn’t exist or, as Warren believed, it was well concealed. Matt had to go with his gut on this. He took the plunge.

‘I’m heading in the direction of Wellington. I want to look at a Spanish Helmet that I’ve heard about. Then I thought I could go to Nelson and have a look at my father’s work.’

‘The Spanish Helmet, as in the one found in Wellington Harbour?’

‘Yes, the very one.’

‘And your father’s research? What is that?’

Matt filled Warren in on the events of the day and his father’s research. It felt good to get things out in the open.

‘It isn’t that I don’t want to look further into your work Warren. I just feel like it isn’t going anywhere fast and that while we have some downtime, as it were, I could use it to look at some other angles of New Zealand history while I’m here.’

‘I think it’s great,’ Warren said, bringing the butterflies out of formation and rapidly to a gentle landing.

‘You really don’t mind?’

‘Of course not.
The most important thing is that we find out the truth about New Zealand’s history.
Whatever that truth may be.’

Trust Warren to
be so understanding
.

‘Will you come with me then?’

‘Me? No, I can’t. I have too much to do here, what with the mirror and all. You can take the car though. At least then a part of me is with you.’ Warren laughed.

‘Oh,’ Matt said, trying to hide his disappointment. It wouldn’t be the same without Warren. ‘I hope I can do this without your expertise.’

‘Why don’t you get that wonder-colleague of yours to come out? She could tag along.’

That wasn’t a bad idea at all. Matt could use someone like Julia at his side.
So reliable, straight-thinking.
He would give her a call after dinner.

‘Good idea. She can spare the time from her work too. No problems for Julia.’