by Nick Spill
Chapter Fifty-two
“Are you serious about going to the pub?” Wiremu asked as he and Rawiri walked up Grafton Road to Khyber Pass Road.
“No way, little brother. What could I say in front of Moana? ‘Let’s plan how we’re going to exchange the notebooks for cash with the Russian’? We need to think it all through and we might as well be in sight of his apartment. I want to watch the Castle.”
They headed to Nugent Street, unaware the red Mercedes had started to follow them as they turned onto Normanby Road. They came to a track on the side of Mount Eden and walked around the lower crater to a point where they could sit and watch a slice of Castle Drive and part of its four-story Gothic tower. The gardens surrounding the area were full of large trees and native plants, obscuring most of the paths and driveways.
“Should’ve brought a picnic,” Rawiri said.
“Moana would have planned one if we’d included her.”
“Yeah, she is quite a woman now. The communique she wrote is a work of art. I hope she calls it in from another payphone. Can’t be too careful.” Rawiri stopped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to conjure up, you know, sorry.”
Wiremu ignored the reference to their dead brother.
“Moana is real switched on. Doesn’t miss a trick. Bet she suspects we are on to something. ” “Wouldn’t put it past her. Shit, she’s smart. Talking of smart, how are we going to handle the exchange?” Rawiri looked at Wiremu, concerned.
“Hey, it’s just a business transaction. He gives me the money, I count it, see it’s all there and not fake, and I give him the notebooks.”
“Wiremu, younger brother. You know how many lads I talked to inside who said the same thing to me? And do you know where they finished up?”
“Talking to you? In prison?”
“You can’t trust the Russian. His place might be bugged now and he’ll be watched. Can you see anything from here?”
“No.”
“Exactly. Because they don’t want you to know they’re there. Never underestimate your enemy. We have to plan it out in detail. If it goes wrong we need a backup plan, just in case. Too much money at stake here for us to be so casual.”
“Okay, older brother. Let me hear what you think we should do.”
Chapter Fifty-three
Barbara Turner wanted to call off the tail once Wiremu and Rawiri crossed Khyber Pass Road. Michael insisted they wait. “They’re walking somewhere. Let’s see where they’re going.”
“At least we now know the Chinese are working with them,” Barbara said. “Shit. That changes everything. What if the Chinese have protection? We can’t move against them with Wiremu.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions. We can catch them again. It’s not like they’re difficult to follow.” Michael found a place to park among the other cars and trucks in the industrial area.
Wiremu and Rawiri turned into the park next to Clive Road. “They’re not going for a picnic, are they?” Barbara spat out. “Shit. Now I’m fucking curious. Let’s go up to the top. I want to know what they’re doing.”
• • •
Wiremu woke from a nap. Rawiri sat next to him and watched the Castle, or rather the top of the tower. He had no idea what was going on around the Castle or the Drive or the track that lead up to where they were in the grass. He was happy to be outside, to listen to the trees, watch the clouds. He had been free for only a few days and was still getting used to the idea of open spaces he could wander in with no restrictions, no one telling him what to do. A thrush chirped nearby but he couldn’t see it.
Wiremu raised his head and breathed in the fresh wind from the Waitemata harbor. The trees below him swayed. “Did I fall asleep for long?”
“Not long enough for the ants to eat you.”
Wiremu jumped up and brushed off the ants. He stretched and selected another spot to sit.
“Do you know tohunga used to sit on the side of the pa and communicate with the other world, maybe with other tohunga on other volcanoes? They had special spots where they could draw energy from the earth and used it to communicate with each other. It’s how they got their power out of the land. One of the reasons our land is important to us.”
“Are you sitting on a power spot or an ant hill?”
“Oh fuck! More ants. How come they like me not you?”
• • •
After parking at the summit, Barbara and Michael walked around the large crater. When they had crossed to the lower crater and looked further south to a clump of trees, they saw Wiremu and Rawiri sitting in the grass.
“What the fuck?” Barbara asked. “Is this the teddy bears’ picnic?”
“Must be looking at a house. But what can they see with all the trees? Looking for someone? Maybe they’re setting up a robbery.” Michael shivered. He was dressed in his navy blazer and the wind was cold.
They kept walking so as not to draw attention to themselves. Barbara looked back before they lost sight of the brothers. “Those two don’t do breaking and entering. Too small. They must be planning something else. Let’s go. We’ve found out enough.”
On the short trip to the Turner house in Epsom, Barbara kept conjecturing. “They were casing a place. For what, we don’t know. What we do know is they’re here in Auckland. Up to no good, and in league with the Chinese. That’s enough to go on for now. We just have to keep an eye on that lot down south, make sure they’re planning another harvest.”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t they? They lost everything last time,” Michael smirked.
Chapter Fifty-four
Alexander started his search where he had last seen the black Jaguar turn on Ruskin Street. He crisscrossed the side streets until he came to St George’s Bay Road and doubled back to Parnell Road. He did not spot a 1968 red Mini. He saw a blue Mini and a green Mini, but no red one. Once he had ventured through all the side streets he parked on Heather Street, opposite Garfield Street, and across from Parnell Road. He had a good view of the main street. It was close to eleven o’clock. He decided to walk around the neighborhood, see what coffee shops or lunch places would be open and get a feel for the area. As he walked, he felt the raw skin on his knees and was reminded of their ferocious lovemaking last night. Which led him to remember a piece of paper in his jeans. He found a payphone and called the number Tsara had left for him.
“Newton? Where have you been?” Grimble barked once Alexander was patched through. “I’ve been waiting for your report.”
“I’m following up on what we talked about. I’m in Parnell. If he did drop the painting off and if his daughter is involved, I have a feeling as to where she would be. She’s working close by.”
“A feeling?” Grimble took a deep breath. “Okay. Cadd is in the area as well, looking for the red Mini. When you see her, call me here.”
There was a click followed by the dial tone. At least Grimble had told him about Cadd. Sharing information? Perhaps I am part of the team, Alexander thought.
He walked up and down Parnell Road and around the side streets connected to Heather Street before he came to the coffee shop on the corner. He peeked inside and saw a tall blonde at the counter. Alexander slipped in beside her. “Can I get a turkey sandwich as well, please? And a Fanta?” he asked the counter man.
The blonde let out a smile as she turned to face him. “Alexander? It’s you?” In her high heels they were almost the same height.
“Oh, my god! Natasha! What are you doing here?” He wanted to say how fabulous she looked in her tight blood-red dress cut to the knees and how she must have lost a lot of weight but thought that might not be appreciated.
“I was about to ask the same thing.”
“I’m here for the Omai exhibit. At the Auckland City Art Gallery. I escorted the Captain Cook painting from the National Gallery—but it’s gone missing.”
“What, the gallery?”
“No. The painting.”
“Oh? I don’t read newspapers. Too depressing. If you’re at the
gallery, what brings you to Parnell?”
“I’m meeting a friend later, and thought I’d get an early lunch. Can we eat together?”
Natasha pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’d love to.”
Alexander followed her over to a corner table. “You said a painting is missing?” Natasha asked as she draped her shoulder bag over her chair and adjusted her hair again.
“Yes. Seems like I am out of a job. But let’s not talk about me—what about you? Are you still living in, what do you call it, the Castle?”
“Yes. It’s an amazing place. You remember the night you were there, with your girlfriend?”
“How could I forget? We split up a long time ago. I live on my own now.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Natasha took a bite out of her sandwich and stared at Alexander as he examined his own sandwich, a thin slice of processed turkey on two slices of white bread cut in half. “Damn, no mustard.”
Natasha held his gaze with her blue eyes. “Why did you say, ‘How could I forget?’”
Alexander let out a sigh. The turkey sandwich was a disappointment, but Natasha was a surprise. “It’s just how you acted, I suppose. You seemed to know, er, what you wanted.”
“It’s a good thing, no? Like feminists act?”
“Was it an act?” Alexander returned her look. Her eyes appeared deeper and more vivid than he remembered. “I was taken aback by you. You seemed like you wanted to be in control. And my girlfriend was in the next room.”
Natasha finished her sandwich. “Well, she isn’t now, is she?”
“What are you doing now? I thought you were studying, what was it? German?”
“Oh yes. I got a Masters in German and political science. Now I’m doing a Ph.D. in Soviet history and working nearby while I complete my thesis. God, it’s tedious. Lots of writing. I have no idea how it will turn out.”
“Well, you seem to be good at anything you turn your mind to.” Alexander sipped his soft drink.
Natasha glanced at her watch. “I have to get back to work. But what are you doing later?”
“After my meeting I’m just hanging out at the gallery, I think. Want to have a drink later?”
“Why not? Say six at …?” Natasha thought for a while and shrugged. “Don’t go out much. Any ideas?”
“Auckland’s changed since I lived here. Why not start at the Kiwi Tavern? It’s near the gallery. Do you have a car?”
“Yes but it’s in the garage. British engineering. Not so reliable.”
“Sounds like my first car. A Morris Minor. Whoever designed it should’ve been shot.”
“Mine’s an Austin Mini. Do you have wheels?”
“Not on my government expenses. I do a lot of walking. Seems to keep me fit.”
“Okay. I’ll see you at six.” Natasha stood and kissed Alexander on both checks. He managed to return her kiss on one cheek, feeling awkward about her quick intimacy.
He watched her as she crossed Parnell Road. She turned on Garfield Street and looked back in his direction. Alexander had his head down, so he hoped she did not spot him staring at her. When she was out of sight he rushed out of the café and ran across the road to catch sight of her as she turned left onto Bath Street and stepped into the first door on the right. He waited a few minutes to get his breath and walked past the door, taking a note of the company name on the side of the building, and the street number. He kept walking along Bath Street until he could turn left again and arrive at Parnell Rise. He looked for a payphone where he could call Grimble. He was on hold for a long time. When he was finally connected, Grimble was abrupt. Alexander got the sense that Grimble was angry he had located Natasha and his own man, Sergeant Cadd, had not.
Alexander had enough coins left to call Catelin, his real boss. He found him on his second call. “I just found Natasha, the Russian girl,” he reported. “She works at an engineering firm, with a loading dock.” He gave Catelin the exact address and a description of the office front. “It has enough space for a Jaguar to back into,” he said. “I’m going to run out of coins soon, can I have your local number? I’ll call collect.”
Catelin gave him a new phone number in Auckland and as Alexander had predicted the beeps started: he was cut off. He called the operator, gave her the new number and asked if it was on High Street. After a short wait she informed him it was on Shortland Street and gave him the street number. He waited to be connected.
“I have a collect call from a Mr. Alexander. Will you accept?”
Catelin said yes.
Once Alexander had briefed his boss on what had transpired since he last talked to him, he confessed. “I didn’t tell Grimble, but I’m meeting Natasha tonight at six at the Kiwi. I figure we’ll have a few drinks, she’ll take me to her place, and I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Yes, you will,” Catelin said sharply.
“What do you mean? Do you realize what a situation I am in now because of a fucking stolen painting? When all’s said and done, it isn’t my fault the bloody thing was nicked!” Alexander looked around to see if anyone had heard him. He hung up, annoyed at Catelin’s response. Was his boss hearing rumors about him as well? He walked to his van. Driving would calm him down.
Alexander took a slow circuitous route around the university before parking in his spot across from Tsara’s house. He killed the motor and sat in silence to think. He had never met a woman like Mel. Confident and forthright, she personified for him the perfect woman, the perfect lover. But he felt the relationship was unreal. What had happened between them was a fantasy—and a reaction to breaking up with her boyfriend, Henry. He couldn’t imagine his relationship with Mel would last, or the intensity could be sustained.
He had to come clean with Tsara and tell her what he had been doing with his spy work in Wellington. At university they had always confessed their adventures to each other, however bad they might have sounded. What he had done for the government would not be so awful, he reasoned. Just a few photos, a little spying. He had done good, he had confirmed Dr. Winter was a Soviet spy and exposed his sauna friend’s affair with the shadow minister. Infidelity in high places. Perhaps he should be afraid of the government. He had started a series of events he did not know how to stop. If he could talk it through with Tsara, there might be a way out for him. If Tsara would listen and understand. By confessing to his best friend, he would be betraying his promise to Catelin. But he felt he had to.
Alexander stepped out of the van. He looked up and down the road and saw nothing out of the ordinary, no men sitting in Chrysler Valiants or Ford Escorts. He brought his camera bag. At Tsara’s front door he hesitated for a few moments before knocking twice.
She opened the door, turned and walked towards the living room. She had her arms folded, and when she looked at him, it made Alexander even more nervous than he already was. She did not look serene—she looked upset.
“Tsara, I’m in so deep, I don’t know where I am, or who my friends are. I’ve been keeping away, because it’s about to get real hairy. It’s all rather complicated. The Soviets, the local spies, the police, Maori land activists, the student activist we met at the opening and the doctor? What’s her name? Doctor Mel and her boyfriend. It’s all a big mess, and if I don’t find the fucking painting of Captain Cook, my job is over, and I won’t have much of a future here. I’ll be known as the curator who lost Cook.”
Tsara took a deep breath. “Where were you the last two nights?” she spat.
Alexander hesitated for a second. How could she know? “I was in my van doing surveillance on the Soviet.”
She kept her lips closed.
“Two nights ago, I went to the Doctor’s dojo and I met Mark and his girlfriend Annie. We went out to dinner. Mark is linked to Captain Cook, but I can’t tell you much more.”
“Where did you go after?”
Alexander wondered if he was under surveillance. “I couldn’t use the van because I didn’t want Mark to know I had it, so I was with th
e doctor. You’ve never been jealous. What’s with you?”
“I know about Wellington.”
“Wellington?” Alexander was puzzled. What could Tsara possibly have found out? “You mean the librarian? I told you about her. We’ve never hidden anything from each other.”
“No. I know about your spying on Kathy. The photos. The scandal it’s caused.”
“What?” Alexander thought for a moment, then his jaw dropped, and he collapsed on the sofa. He tried to compose himself. A feeling of dread swept over him. The moment he had feared—and he hadn’t had the opportunity to explain himself.
“I know Kathy from when she was at uni here. We did English together. She told me everything, and she’s heartbroken about her best friend’s father and mother. You know they’re getting divorced? And it’s because of you and your damn photos.” She clenched her fists and stomped her right foot. Alexander had never seen her so angry. He buried his face in his hands, as if to save himself. He didn’t know what to say or do.
“Just leave. I see you’ve taken your stuff anyway, so just go.”
Alexander realized he could not talk his way out of this. He saw her eyes fill with tears. “I, I,” was all he could utter.
“I don’t want to hear your lies. I don’t know who you are any more. Just leave. Now!” Tsara turned away and went to the kitchen.
Alexander wanted to follow her, plead with her, tell her she was someone special he had known for years as a true friend, and he would never dream of hurting her. But instead he froze with his mouth open.
Tsara stood in the kitchen door and stared at him. “Get out!”
Alexander grabbed his camera bag, walked to the front door and ran across the road to his van. Once inside, he gripped the steering wheel. He could not cry. He sat in the van unable to move for some time before he turned the ignition and, with the engine running, started to recover a measure of his usual composure.
He drove to Mount Eden and parked at the summit. Perhaps he would spend the night in the van, on his mattress. He walked around the crater in a clockwise direction and headed to the lower crater. From where he stood most of the Gothic-inspired building was obscured by pohutukawa trees and nikau palms. He felt the wind in his face as he looked at Rangitoto across the harbor. He took deep breaths and tried to get his mind into his job: find Captain Cook. He had to keep his mind occupied and away from Tsara’s complete rejection of their friendship.
