The Spanish Helmet (36 page)

‘I need to speak to my boss immediately. I need you to get me a phone.’

‘There’s a phone right there!’ The nurse said, laughing and pointing at a small TV and phone combination that was hovering above Hemi’s head.

‘Oh right, so there is. Sorry, I missed that.’

The nurse turned on her heels, still chuckling, and shuffled off in search of another emergency. Hemi dialled the number for Agent Hope, his superior at the NISO, from memory.

‘Hope.’
Came
the blunt answer.

‘Agent Hope, it’s Hemi...’

‘Hemi, you’re awake, that’s brilliant.’

‘Hope, I have to know. What happened to Dr. Cameron? Is he alive?’

‘Yes, yes, of course. Though there was a death.’

Oh my God, Hemi thought. Not Aimee.

‘Who?’ he asked, feeling desperate.

‘Rennie,’ Hope answered. ‘One of our sharp-shooters took him out seconds after he shot you.’

‘He’s dead?’ Hemi felt tears welling in his eyes but a dam of pride held them back. Joy was mixed with disappointment.

‘Yes, Hemi.
He’s dead.’

‘I have important information to report. It’s paramount that I talk with you.’

‘We have an agent at the hospital. He’s been waiting to give you some important news too.

Just then, the door to Hemi’s room flew open.

The phone dropped from Hemi’s hand. Damned right that’s important news. The tears broke through the dam as his father reached his side and took him in his arms.

Tuesday, December 20, 1527

We have passed through the straits with no events. We made a direct run from the eastern entrance to the western side in only a few hours. Now we are becalmed. Of all the dreaded conditions to have when we are this close to home. I was hoping to be there in time for the birth of my child, but I don’t know if that will happen now. It is hard for me to comprehend that I may be a father already.  I cannot wait to see Hine and to tell her all about what we have seen and learned.
Especially over the last few weeks of the journey.
  The men are all equal with me in their excitement. This life of coasting and exploring is far more comfortable than the one we had before. Still, one day we must return to Spain to share what we have learned.

Wednesday, January 4, 1528

I am home.
Safe in Whareakeake.
Indeed Hine has borne me a son. He has been given the name of his mother’s father. This means that he is in the line of chiefs, those they refer to as Rangatira. My son will one day be chief of the Whareakeake people! It is amazing to write something like this. We have named him Wiremu, determined one.
A name that befits a king.

Some of the men have decided they want to try to return to Spain. For this purpose, we have commenced the building of a second Caravel. We have the expertise of the carpenters and shipwright and the materials on hand are second to none. Most of the tools needed are in our stocks and any that we haven’t had have been fashioned together with some of the Waitaha, out of stone they have collected for us. I expect the build will take a considerable amount of time, but time is a commodity we are not short of.

‘And when he woke and looked out of his tent, he couldn’t believe he’d spent the night camped on the university green!’ Matt laughed, Andreas laughed with him.

They’d enjoyed their evening and morning of catching up. Julia had been immersed, like or not, in a full history of their antics and Matt appreciated laughing again after such a strenuous few weeks. He was relieved that he had a chance to quietly tell Andreas not to say anything to Julia about Warren’s death before it came out in conversation. Julia was the sensitive type. It didn’t make sense to upset her with any horror stories. Now things had to get back to business as usual. And business as usual had meant an e-mail from Dwight Pick that morning.

Dwight made it clear that he was unimpressed about losing yet another of his team to Matt’s wild goose chase. But he also hadn’t mentioned letters of warning or pending dismissal, so Matt assumed that he had thought about things and realised Matt was right. Of course he was right. He was really on to something here.

The approach to the ETH was quite exciting. From the hotel, down the famous Bahnhofstrasse, past the main station, over the Limmat River, and now they were on a cute little red funicular up the hill.

‘You’ve not been to the ETH before, have you?’ Andreas asked, turning to both Matt and Julia.

‘No,’ Julia said. ‘This is my first time in Switzerland too.’

‘Me neither.’ Matt answered. ‘But I know it by reputation. Didn’t Einstein study here?’

‘Among many other very notable scholars,’ Andreas said, full of pride. ‘The ETH is one of the world’s leading universities, of course. The library’s also a leader in the field.’

As they exited the funicular station, Matt was struck by the dominance and stature of the ETH’s main building. Spread out in front of the large stone structure was an expansive terrace. The city, lake and mountain views were superb. The Alps looked stunning.

‘How does anyone get any work done in there with a view like that?’ Julia asked.

Inside, the building opened out in front of them into a four levelled lobby with galleries running around all sides. The top floor was closed in behind glass. The mixture of old with new was tastefully done and Matt was pleased to see that this building hadn’t lost any grandeur during its years of serving students. Andreas spotted a directory near the lifts which told them the library was on floor
H
.

‘We’ll
be needing
the Special Collections Reading Room,’ he said.

They took the lift and found the reading room, which was quiet. Only a few people were scattered about at desks, engrossed in large old books. At a red counter in the middle of the room a friendly young librarian stood to greet them.

‘How can I help?’ she asked in perfect English. Matt smiled at how some Swiss had a knack for knowing what language to use before you even spoke. He wondered if it was his clothes.

‘We’re looking for the Kirstein Collection,’ Matt answered.

‘Sure.’ she said, pointing to a computer on a large desk to her left. ‘If you use this terminal here, you can browse the collection contents and let me know what items in particular you’d like to see. There are over two thousand items in the collection, you see, so we can only bring up an item or two at a time.

‘Ah, the collection isn’t actually housed here then,’ Matt asked, a little disappointed.

‘It is, but it’s down in the basement archives. It normally takes some time for the archives team to retrieve items and send them up here.’

‘How long?’

‘Depending on the item and the preservation techniques needed to protect it, anywhere from two hours through to four days.’

Matt’s heart sank. Maybe the librarian had seen this in his face, because she added, ‘but have a look at the catalogue, let me know what you require, and we’ll see what we can do.’

The three of them took places at the desk with the catalogue terminal and had soon located the Kirstein Collection section. Thirty minutes later, they approached the librarian again.

‘Have you found what you were looking for?’ she asked.

‘No,’ Matt answered, hoping his frustration wasn’t showing too much. ‘Is it possible there are items in the collection not catalogued?’

She hesitated. ‘Everything is catalogued, but there’s always a possibility that some items are held in the private collection. These are items that are to be accessed with special permission or under certain circumstances.’

‘Who makes the decision of what counts as a special circumstance?’ Matt
asked,
a glimmer of hope returning.

‘That would be the Special Collections Manager.’ She smiled again. ‘In fact, this is him coming our way right now.’

‘Good morning,’ the friendly looking man said, reaching out his hands to shake those of Matt, Julia and Andreas. ‘My name is Mischeler.’

‘Good morning, Herr Mischeler,’ Andreas said, before Matt had a chance. ‘I’m Andreas Bosshard. These are my colleagues, Dr. Matthew Cameron and Julia McKenzie.’

‘Bosshard.’
Mischeler repeated. ‘Not any relation to...’

‘Michael Bosshard.’ Andreas smiled, glancing sideways at Matt. ‘Yes, he’s my father.’

Matt realised what Andreas was doing. Clearly this was no time to interrupt.

‘I know your father well. We’ve worked together on many a project over the years.’ He looked Andreas up and down. ‘Yes, I can see a family resemblance.’ He paused, and smiled a warm and welcoming smile. ‘Well, master Bosshard, what can we do for you today here at our humble library?’

‘We were hoping to make a visit to the Kirstein Collection.’

‘Anything in particular you’re looking for?’

‘It’s hard to say, we aren’t exactly sure ourselves what we’re looking for, but it would have been an item submitted following Kirstein’s final journey. An item he picked up in New Zealand.’

‘Ah.’ Mischeler nodded. ‘About ninety percent of
that submission, the findings of that journey, are
part of the private collection. Never been
published,
and most likely never will be. Can I ask for what purpose you need to find this item?’

‘It’s a long story,’ Matt said, hoping it was OK to put his bit in now. ‘But if what we think is there is actually there, then the history of New Zealand may possibly need a full revision.’

‘Sounds exciting.’

‘It is exciting,’ Andreas agreed. ‘If there was some way we could access the collection, those items, it would be greatly appreciated.’

Herr Mischeler looked down at the red counter. He tapped his lip with his finger. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Matt, he lifted his head again and smiled.

‘Alright,’ he said. ‘Since your father has done me so many favours over the years, I’ll return one now.’

‘Great,’ Matt said. ‘Thank you so much Herr Mischeler.

‘That’s OK, but I want to come with you, it sounds like there might be some adventure hidden in this. Give me two hours to organise things. I need to advise the director that I’ll be taking guests down to the archive and to arrange the appropriate access passes.’