Phantom of Terawhiti

by Des Hunt

  She took another step, letting him reach down to her chest. Then she spoke to him for the first time: a mew so high-pitched that it could have been from a newborn kitten. She rubbed against his knees, begging to have her back stroked. And when he did, she began purring. Neither deep nor loud, simply a quiet sound of pleasure.

  ‘Can I have some of the action too?’ whispered Jess, moving closer and stretching out her hand.

  Tasha tested with a sniff before extending her tongue and rewarding Jess with a couple of licks.

  Jess sighed.

  Zac chuckled.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ asked Jess.

  ‘Your sigh sounded just like her purring.’

  Jess nodded. ‘That’s how I feel. I want to rub my head against her. She is just gorgeous.’

  They continued like this for some minutes before, suddenly, Tasha froze. The purring stopping mid-breath. Her head went up and her ears swivelled until they locked onto the problem. It was up the hill towards the mine.

  ‘It’s all right, Tasha,’ Zac said. But before the sentence was finished, the cat was gone, slinking noiselessly into the nearby undergrowth.

  ‘They must be coming back,’ said Jess, turning off the Roldee. ‘Just as well she’s got better hearing than we have or they would have seen her.’

  ‘They’ll need to know sometime,’ said Zac.

  ‘Not yet,’ said Jess. ‘Not just yet. I want to keep her as our own for a while.’

  ‘What about the pig hunters and the Neanderthals?’

  ‘I know a place where we can keep her,’ said Jess. ‘We’ll come back in the morning and get her. They’ll never find her there.’

  Zac said nothing. Morning was eighteen hours away. Much too long for his liking.

  Chapter Eleven

  Friday morning, and the quiet of the homestead was broken by Crawford yelling at someone. When Zac came out, he found his father prowling around the lounge in his pyjamas, shouting into his phone.

  ‘Why can’t they come out here?’

  A pause and then his prowling increased.

  ‘Then tell them to take another flight. I’m not—’

  An interruption stopped Crawford and had him looking at the ceiling instead.

  ‘Did you see the news last night?’ he demanded.

  A short reply.

  ‘Then you’ll know that this city is crawling with people who want to skin my brother alive. If someone recognizes me, I could be physically attacked, and my cover will be blown for sure.’

  A much longer reply this time. Crawford’s first response was to shake his head, but by the time the other person had finished, his head was hanging, and he was staring at the floor.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll do it. But it better be worth it.’

  A short time later the conversation was over.

  Crawford disconnected, slammed the phone on the table and swore loudly.

  ‘What’s up?’ asked Zac.

  ‘Stanley,’ said Crawford, as if it were another rude word. ‘Because of your uncle, the IRD is now putting our firm through the wringer. I have to meet with some of the executive to work out a strategy.’

  Zac knew the IRD was the government tax department. ‘Does that mean you’re in financial trouble too?’

  ‘No! We’re good! It’s just that, with the IRD, you have to have all your i’s dotted and t’s crossed.’

  ‘So what do you have to do?’

  ‘I have to be at Wellington Airport by nine. We’re meeting in a room there. It’ll take most of the day.’ He turned to Zac. ‘You’ll be right by yourself?’

  ‘Jess’s coming over,’ Zac said, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. ‘We’re riding to Zealandia.’

  ‘That’s good,’ said Crawford, moving to turn on the radio. ‘That’s good.’ He tuned in to Dub Dub FM. ‘I’d better hear what these two idiots have to say about yesterday’s protest.’

  But the ‘two idiots’ weren’t saying anything — music was playing. Crawford moved off to the bedroom to get dressed, while Zac organized some breakfast.

  By the time Zac was sitting down with his cereal, Keith and Sally were back on.

  Sally: I see your old mate Bryan Dixon’s up to his usual tricks again.

  Keith: Oh, what is it this time? Has he seen another moa?

  Sally: Not a moa. A leopard!

  Zac had the spoon halfway to his open mouth. It never got there. Instead it fell back into the bowl as his mouth gaped wider.

  Keith: A what?

  Sally: A leopard. You know! A huge cat with spots. The sort that eats people.

  Keith: Where did he see this?

  Sally: Somewhere on the southwest coast. Won’t say exactly. Sent an email referring us to his Facebook page, where there’s a photo.

  Keith (chuckling): Is it any clearer than that moa photo a couple of years back?

  Sally: Marginally. There is a whitish shape that could be an animal, but what sort is not clear. To me, it looks more like a pig than a big cat.

  Keith: And he expects us to believe it’s a leopard?

  Sally: This time he says he’s going to get proof. He’s not going to be laughed at again. He’ll get something that people will have to believe. So, I guess we can expect more from Bryan Dixon in the near future.

  Keith: Oh, there’ll be more for sure. If not from Bryan, then from the crazies who believe him. Bet you we’ll have leopard sightings from all over Wellington before the weekend’s over.

  Sally: Talking about sightings, here’s one for real: a pod of orca was filmed yesterday swimming just off Oriental Parade. A woman training for next month’s triathlon …

  Zac tuned out. On any other day orca would have been interesting. But not today. Not after he’d just heard of Bryan’s public announcement that he would prove a leopard was running loose on Wellington’s southwest coast. From what Zac had heard the previous day, Bryan’s idea of proof would be a dead animal. While he might not produce a dead leopard, Zac felt certain that a dead serval would be just as interesting to Bryan Dixon’s Facebook friends — and disbelieving radio hosts.

  By the time Jess arrived, Zac had worked himself into a state.

  He’d researched Bryan Dixon on the internet and wasn’t happy with what he found. Bryan had a point to prove. Two years earlier he had claimed to see a moa while pig hunting near East Cape. There was a photo showing a shape that could be a moa, but then it could equally be something else, maybe just a shadow. Only a handful of people had believed him. The rest were scathing in their attacks. He’d been called all sorts of names, none of them pleasant. In the end he’d stopped talking about it.

  Until now.

  On his Facebook page Bryan vowed that soon people would have to believe him. There was a big cat roaming the hills out of Wellington; a leopard that he would kill and bring home.

  Ya all gonna have to eat ya filthy insults, he wrote. And so youse don’t choke, I’ll send ya some leopard steak to help them go down.

  Zac told Jess all about this as they walked across the paddocks towards Waiariki Stream. As planned, she had a dog lead and a blanket in her backpack. Zac’s contribution was the silver bowl and a piece of steak he’d stolen from the freezer.

  Yesterday, when they’d made the plans, they’d felt confident in shifting Tasha to a safer, more comfortable home. With what they now knew, both were beginning to have doubts.

  ‘I hate pig hunters,’ said Jess, climbing down to the stream. ‘How can he even think of killing such a gorgeous animal?’

  ‘Hunters have always killed big cats,’ shrugged Zac.

  ‘Maybe if he gets close to her he’ll see how beautiful she is,’ said Jess, hopefully.

  Zac shook his head. ‘That won’t stop him. He won’t back down now.’

  Jess looked up the valley. ‘What if he’s already up there?’

  ‘We’ll find out,’ said Zac. ‘We’ll check where they parked their vehicle yesterday.’

  ‘What time did
you see them?’

  ‘Early.’

  Jess looked at her watch. ‘Ten o’clock,’ she said. ‘What time did they get back?’

  ‘About eleven.’

  ‘So if they’ve come back this morning, then they’d still be up there?’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Zac.

  The vehicle wasn’t there, but it had been. Fresh tyre tracks showed that the same vehicle had parked in the same place. There was also another set of footprints. Bryan and Sean had come and gone. For Jess and Zac that was worse than if the hunters were still up the valley. To have been and then left again so quickly suggested that their business hadn’t taken all that long.

  Jess checked around for any signs of blood, while Zac looked for serval paw prints. They found neither, nor anything else that indicated Tasha had been there, dead or alive. However, that didn’t dispel their fears, and they left the area feeling more miserable and worried than when they arrived.

  The journey up the stream was mostly in silence, although that didn’t mean they weren’t thinking about Tasha. Zac was working through the events of the last few days, wondering if he could have done things differently. What would have happened if yesterday they had told Crawford and Jenny about Tasha? Perhaps they could have called her back so the adults could see her. Would that have made any difference? He felt as if he’d messed up from the start, right from the moment when he’d picked up the silver bowl and hidden it.

  When they reached the branch to Breakneck Creek, Jess suggested they stop and try calling with the Roldee. She’d charged the batteries fully overnight and when she turned it on the sound blasted up and down the valleys.

  ‘She can hardly miss that,’ said Zac.

  ‘That’s if she’s there,’ replied Jess.

  There seemed nothing else worth saying.

  After three minutes, Jess turned off the machine and they continued up Breakneck Creek.

  Twice more they stopped, with no more success than before.

  The going was tougher than on Thursday. There had been showers overnight, making the creek deeper and swifter. Drops rained down off the bushes the moment they were touched. By the time Jess and Zac got to the gorge, they were wet through and cold.

  ‘We can’t get through there,’ said Jess, staring at the water gushing between the rocks.

  ‘We’ll have to go around,’ said Zac.

  ‘What’s the point, Zac?’

  Zac thought for a while. She was right. There seemed no point in going on: if Tasha was still there, she must’ve already heard the Roldee. It was time to give up.

  ‘One more try,’ he said. ‘Then we’ll go back.’

  By then the sun was high enough to shine into hidden parts of the valley. They sat on a boulder enjoying the autumn heat, hoping it might dry them out a little. Jess turned on the Roldee and they waited.

  The minutes passed. Five, ten, fifteen — and still there was no sign of Tasha. Yet neither was prepared to suggest turning off the machine. Both knew that this would be the final act.

  In the end it was Jess who faced up to reality. ‘Let’s go,’ she said. ‘This is too sad, sitting here and thinking.’ Her voice sounded as if she was crying.

  Zac was never able to explain why he answered the way he did. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s too soon to give up on her. Turn off the Roldee and see what happens.’

  It took a while for his ears to adjust after the noise of the machine. First came the sounds of the water, and then the birds: singing and chirping and twittering. The chirping was particularly loud, as if it was nearby.

  Zac scanned around trying to identify the source. It seemed to be coming from above, on the rocks that formed the gorge. His eyes moved up and there she was, standing in the sunshine, looking down, calling to them. Slowly he reached around to the backpack and pulled out his camera. Tasha — as if sensing what he was about to do — raised her head to gaze further down the valley, a queen surveying her kingdom. Zac pressed the button, knowing that this would be the best photo ever.

  Chapter Twelve

  Clearly Tasha had been raised on a lead. There was no straining to be released or biting to get free. She walked alongside Jess as if they’d been friends for years. Zac followed, feeling a little jealous.

  When Tasha had come down off the rock, her first contact had been with Zac. Then she had shared her attention between the two of them until Jess clipped the lead to the collar. After that Tasha behaved as if Zac didn’t exist. He knew it was probably just part of her training, but it still didn’t make it any easier to take.

  Their route took them down Breakneck Creek and on to Waiariki Stream where they headed back towards the shore. The place where they were going to hide Tasha was in the bush behind Cave Bay. That meant returning to where Bryan Dixon parked his vehicle. For a time they would be out in the open, visible to anyone travelling along the coastal track. That was a worry for Zac: if they were seen, then pretty soon the whole world would know.

  If he hadn’t been so preoccupied, he might have noticed that Tasha had pricked her ears and was sniffing at the air. In the end, it wasn’t until she stopped walking that he knew something was wrong. By then even he could hear the sounds that were almost upon them.

  ‘Get in the bushes!’ hissed Zac, scrambling out of the stream towards a clump of gorse.

  ‘Why?’ asked Jess, much too loudly. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Just get in!’ ordered Zac.

  The sound of a tipping boulder came from downstream. A male voice swore. Loud and close enough to convince Jess. She moved towards the bushes, pulling gently on the lead. But Tasha stood firm.

  ‘Come, Tasha,’ pleaded Jess in a whisper.

  The cat stood firm. Then she started the chirping noise. The clattering noises from downstream stopped.

  Jess hauled on the lead. Tasha tensed and held her ground.

  ‘Help me,’ said Jess, turning to Zac.

  He clambered down and grabbed the lead.

  Tasha still didn’t want to go, but now she had no choice. They dragged her out of the stream bed and into the scrub that bordered the stream. As soon as they were behind cover, she resumed chirping, more urgent than before.

  ‘Shut up, Tasha!’ hissed Zac.

  Tasha’s answer was to chirp even louder.

  Zac pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and held it over her mouth, muffling the sound a little.

  Jess put an arm around Tasha. ‘Shush, shush,’ she urged.

  Then a voice called, ‘Tasha!’

  Zac recognized it as Ivan.

  ‘Tasha!’

  The clattering through the stream resumed.

  ‘Tasha!’ That was Yuri.

  Zac saw movement through the scrubby bush. Obviously Tasha had seen it too. But instead of chirping louder, she stopped and settled back on her haunches. Now she was wary, sniffing the air, unsure of what she should do.

  Soon the Neanderthals were on the other side of the bush. Zac willed them to move on quickly.

  They didn’t. Instead, they stopped.

  Ivan had the dart gun hanging from his shoulder. He stopped and pulled it around, ready for action. He said something in Russian. Yuri nodded. He took the pack off his back and fished around inside. Out came a pistol.

  Jess gave a little gasp.

  But that was not the only thing Yuri was after. He tucked the pistol into his trousers, dug around the pack some more and came out with what looked like an MP3 player. He fiddled with the device and soon familiar music was playing: it was the same tune that the Roldee played. Holding the player in one hand, he then removed the pistol from his trousers and held it out to the front, as if expecting action any moment.

  Tasha’s ears went up at the sound of the music. Zac gripped the lead with both hands, expecting her to spring forward. Instead, she turned and looked at him, as if asking what she should do. Zac raised his hand and stroked her neck. He shook his head, hoping she would get the message.

  Something must’ve got through to he
r, for she flattened herself to the ground. Tasha had made up her mind. She would stay with her new-found friends. Maybe it was the pistol, or more likely just their body language. Whatever it was, the cat sensed danger and knew she was safer in the bushes.

  The music seemed to go on for ages, playing over and over. Every now and then one of the men would call out in a way that suggested they knew she was nearby. Probably they’d heard her chirping.

  All the time, Zac, Jess and Tasha lay low in the scrub. The ground was wet and the leaves prickly, yet Zac hardly noticed it. He could feel the warmth from Tasha’s body against his, and that more than made up for a bit of discomfort.

  Eventually the men got sick of waiting. There was an exchange of words before they began moving again. The music still played, and the pistol remained ready in Yuri’s hand, but for those hiding in the scrub, the danger was over.

  It wasn’t until they got back to the homestead paddocks that Zac realized they’d made a big mistake. In their rush to get out of the valley and away from the Neanderthals, they’d forgotten about footprints. Now, when Zac checked back upstream, instead of seeing Ivan and Yuri rushing after them, he saw footprints. It was where they had crossed a patch of sand in the stream bed: two lines of shoe prints with a line of paw marks in between.

  He pointed them out to Jess.

  ‘We’ve got to cover them up,’ she said.

  Zac nodded. ‘But what if there are others upstream? We can’t go all the way back.’

  Jess thought for a moment. ‘Let’s hope there aren’t any more.’

  Zac splashed the prints with water from the stream. Anyone who looked closely would know that something had gone on there, but not exactly what.

  From there on they were more careful, sticking to the grass down the middle of the track that led up to the paddocks behind Cave Bay. From the top they could look down to the pig hunters’ parking place. This time it wasn’t Bryan’s ute in the bushes, it was the Neanderthals’ pick-up truck, taking up so much space that they must have had trouble opening the doors.