Phantom of Terawhiti

by Des Hunt

  And it wasn’t the only vehicle around. There was a line of others along the coastline. Not far out to sea a barge with a crane was moving parallel to the shore.

  ‘They’ll be involved in the salvage,’ said Jess. ‘Dad said they’re removing all the wreckage today.’

  Zac nodded. That was good. The sooner they removed it, the better. What wasn’t good was that all the activity was happening at this moment. He was beginning to feel very exposed. If he could see them, then they would also be able to see him and Tasha.

  ‘Let’s get out of here, before somebody sees us,’ he said. ‘How far do we have to go?’

  ‘Not far,’ replied Jess. ‘Half a kilometre, I suppose.’

  ‘You sure this is the best place for her? It’s very close to everything.’

  Jess smiled. ‘Isn’t that the best place to hide? Right under people’s noses?’

  Zac snorted. ‘Not if they’re planning to kill you.’

  ‘Do you think that’s what they’re trying to do now? Kill Tasha?’

  ‘That pistol was not a dart gun,’ said Zac.

  ‘But why kill her?’

  ‘I don’t know why. Probably because they’re Russian mafia and that’s what they do.’

  ‘It could be because others have seen her. Maybe Mikhail Popanov has ordered them to kill her so that he doesn’t get into trouble.’

  Zac stayed silent. From what he’d read about Mikhail Popanov on the internet, he didn’t seem like a man who would order the killing of an animal. Something else was going on here. Zac didn’t know what, but he did sense that Ivan and Yuri were dangerous. The pistol might not be for Tasha, but for anybody who got in their way …

  The hideaway was called Hermit’s Hole. It was in the hillside beside a small creek that ran along the back of the paddocks. Gorse and other bushes formed a screen so that, even as they approached, Zac was unaware it was there.

  Jess didn’t know whether the hole was an old mine or had been dug out by the hermit who had lived in it for many years. She did know, though, that hardly anyone else knew of it. When the hermit was alive he’d discouraged visitors, and in the decades since those who knew had either died or forgotten about it. Except for the McGonagall family. Will had learnt about it from his father and passed it on to Jess, who was now giving Zac the guided tour.

  The opening to the hole was covered with sheets of corrugated iron nailed to a timber frame. One sheet acted as a door, except the hinges were rusted in place. Only with a lot of pulling and grunting did it open enough for them and Tasha to fit through.

  Inside, the hole was dim and musty but dry. On the floor were several piles of rubbish, the remains of rotting furniture. Shelves had been cut into the rock of the walls to hold a variety of items. One was a candle sitting in an old pudding plate. While both had seen better days, the candle looked as if it might still burn. If only they had something to light it with.

  That’s when Jess opened her pack. She had everything needed to turn Hermit’s Hole into a home for Tasha, including a box of matches.

  In the candlelight they set about making the place comfortable. Tasha was now off the lead, following them around, spending time first with Jess and then with Zac. She had to give everything her seal of approval. The bedding that Jess had brought got serious attention. It was sniffed, pawed, sat on and finally laid upon. The big cat stayed there until Zac brought out the silver bowl. Then she jumped up and bashed it out of his hands before he could place it on the ground.

  Jess laughed. ‘She knows what that is, doesn’t she?’

  She sure did. She sat beside the bowl, staring at Zac with anticipation.

  ‘Okay,’ said Zac. ‘Let’s see if you like steak.’ He took the meat out of the plastic bag and placed it in the bowl.

  Tasha’s head followed every move, but her body remained absolutely still. With the meat in the bowl she sat staring at it, obviously waiting for a command.

  ‘Yes, Tasha,’ said Zac. ‘You can eat it.’

  Still she stared.

  ‘Eat, Tasha,’ said Zac.

  No change.

  ‘Da!’ said Jess.

  That was the magic word. Tasha crouched down and began gnawing at the meat. A moment later she was purring.

  ‘Must be good stuff,’ said Jess.

  ‘Yeah,’ replied Zac. ‘But I can’t keep feeding her on that. It’s not going to be good when Dad finds out. We need to buy some cat food when we go to Zealandia this afternoon.’

  Jess looked at her phone. ‘It’s already after one. We won’t have time to go now.’

  ‘Then we could go and have a look at the salvage,’ suggested Zac.

  ‘You watch the crane,’ said Jess, smiling. ‘I’ll stay here and play with Tasha. We can go to Zealandia tomorrow.’

  Zac stood. ‘I’ll fix that door before I go, so we can close it.’

  Jess’s smile disappeared. ‘Why do you want to close it?’

  ‘To keep her in, of course.’

  ‘No!’ said Jess, shaking her head vigorously. ‘No! We’re not going to lock her in.’

  ‘Then she’ll run away,’ said Zac.

  ‘No, she won’t,’ argued Jess. ‘Not with her bed and bowl here. And we’ll be coming back each day. I don’t want to lock her away!’

  ‘What if the Neanderthals come along this way?’ asked Zac.

  ‘They won’t find this place.’

  ‘If they play the music, they will — she’ll come out to them.’

  Jess shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. She didn’t when they played it up at the stream.’

  Zac gave a heavy sigh. ‘That’s because we were there. If we’re not here, how will she know whether it’s us or them?’

  Jess moved until she was beside the big cat. ‘She’ll know,’ she said. Then she put her head against Tasha’s belly. ‘You’ll know, won’t you, my darling. You’ll just know.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Crawford had not had a good day and his son was the one who was made to suffer. It began the moment Zac walked in the door.

  ‘Why are you so late?’

  Zac had spent a couple of hours watching the salvage from a hill overlooking Oteranga Bay. When he returned to Hermit’s Hole both Jess and Tasha were sleeping. He waited until he heard the Neanderthals drive off before waking them. Only then did he feel confident about leaving Tasha for the night.

  ‘I guess I lost track of time,’ he said.

  ‘Did you go to Zealandia?’

  ‘Nah. We’ll do that tomorrow.

  ‘Didn’t you get my text?’

  ‘No? What text?’

  ‘Check your phone.’

  Zac did. ‘There’s no signal,’ he said.

  His father looked at him as if he was lying.

  ‘Check yours,’ said Zac.

  Crawford went to his phone and glanced at it before grunting in disgust. ‘It’s dead.’

  Zac took the opportunity to change the subject. ‘How was your day?’ he asked.

  ‘A disaster! Some idiot recognized me, or rather, thought I was Stanley. He got a photo with his phone. It’ll be all over the news tomorrow, for sure.’

  In fact, it was ‘all over the news’ that night on television. The financial section began with the US ambassador saying she would raise the concerns of the Fort Morris investors with her government. ‘I don’t want to raise too many hopes,’ she said, ‘but there are some avenues we can investigate.’

  This was followed by the leader of the Morris Investors Action Group. He said that MIAG was pleased with the development, but it was only the first shot of what was likely to be a lengthy battle. ‘Our main aim is still to have Stanley Morris stand in the dock of a New Zealand court and face up to the distress and damage he has caused so many people. The sooner we get that crook back in this country, the better.’

  The coverage then returned to the studio where an image filled the screen behind the presenters. It was the photo of Crawford taken that day. Even with the beard, mo
st people would recognize the person as one of the Morris twins.

  ‘This photo was taken today at Wellington Airport,’ said the female presenter. ‘The photographer is a businessman who has had previous dealings with Stanley Crawford. He says that while the man denied his accusations, the fact that he ran away when confronted confirms that he is Stanley.’

  The camera moved to the male presenter. ‘If it is Stanley then maybe MIAG will get their wish sooner than they think. We’ll keep you posted.’

  That was the end of it. At least on TV it was. At Terawhiti Homestead Crawford made his comment on the report. It was a single word, said loudly and with much feeling.

  There was further bad news on the internet that night. The story of a leopard loose in the suburbs of Wellington had gone viral. There had been other sightings from places as far apart as Waikanae, Upper Hutt, Miramar, Wainuiomata and Eastbourne. It seemed that the leopard had been very active, covering hundreds of kilometres in a single night.

  Even though Zac had to laugh at all the sightings, he knew they were not good news: others would soon turn up looking for a big cat.

  Someone had begun a Facebook page about it: ‘Bryan’s Phantom’ it was called. Already the Phantom had more than two thousand friends. Most of the posts ridiculed Bryan Dixon and his claims, but some took the possibility seriously. One caused Zac’s stomach to churn. It was from a person called Skeptik.

  Has anyone else thought of this? wrote Skeptik. Mikhail Popanov’s big boat wrecks on the Terawhiti coast and soon afterwards a big cat pops up nearby. Seems more than a coincidence to me.

  Zac looked at the time of the posting. It had been written only a few minutes earlier. No one had yet added a comment. He considered hanging around to see what would happen. Instead, he turned off the computer. He had a fair idea of what was coming next and the thought of it made him feel sick.

  The morning was still dark when Zac left the house on Saturday. He was worried about Tasha and wanted to check on her before anyone else was around.

  He was already too late. As he walked across the paddock to Waiariki Stream beams of light sliced through the morning mist. A vehicle was driving up the track on the other side of the stream.

  ‘Bryan and Sean, I bet,’ he said to himself. The light beams were too close together to be the Neanderthals’ vehicle.

  Zac took a route that ensured the pig hunters wouldn’t see him as he approached. Of course, that also meant that Zac couldn’t see them either. By the time he got to a vantage point, the sky had brightened and he could see the vehicle clearly. It was a car, not a ute, and it was parked in the open. Zac’s heart sank. This wasn’t Bryan and Sean. This was another lot of big-cat hunters. Clearly they believed Skeptik’s idea that the big cat had come off Mikhail Popanov’s yacht.

  There seemed to be three of them, but no dogs. Zac crouched down to watch them. After organizing backpacks, they took the path down to the stream. Zac breathed a sigh of relief. At least they were going in the wrong direction. Then, as they waded through the stream and walked past where he was hiding, his relief turned back to tension: each of them was carrying a rifle.

  Zac waited until they were well out of sight before leaving his cover. He had crossed the stream and was about to climb up the other side when another vehicle arrived. Again he had to hide.

  There was much excited talking from the occupants as they climbed from the car. The word ‘leopard’ was repeated several times. Next came a discussion about which direction they should take. Two of the guys wanted to go upstream. A third argued that it would be dangerous with other people already up there. He said they’d have a better chance if they investigated the other side of Outlook Hill. Eventually the others agreed, and a short time later the voices faded as the hunters headed on their way.

  This time Zac left his shelter immediately. From what he’d heard, he feared they might be taking a route that went past Hermit’s Hole.

  He was right. There were four of them walking through the paddock that led to Tasha’s hideout. Two of them had rifles. It took Zac only a moment to decide to follow. If they turned around they would see him, but he no longer cared about that. The important thing was to be close by in case they found Tasha. That way, he might have some chance of saving her.

  While he was less than 50 metres behind, none of the hunters were aware that he was there. They were so excited by the hunt that everything else was shut out. They were also in a hurry, striding out on legs much longer than Zac’s. He had to jog to keep them in sight.

  They marched towards the base of the hill and directly towards Hermit’s Hole, making Zac think that the lead guy knew where to go. However, it soon became clear they were heading for the stream valley that would take them up the slopes of Outlook Hill. They passed where Hermit’s Hole was hidden in the bushes, without even a sideways glance. Zac’s breathing returned to normal.

  When the hunters were well clear, Zac reached into his backpack and took out the Roldee. It was time for an experiment. He didn’t think Tasha would be able to get his scent this far from the hideout, but he was close enough for her to hear the balalaika tune. If she came out, then she would do it for anyone who played the music.

  She came out.

  Warily at first, until she saw who it was. Then she bounded forwards, leaping up at him so that he could take her in his arms. Zac’s heart soared as he took her in a great hug, surprised by the emotions he felt. Never before had he felt such a strong feeling of attachment to an animal.

  After the first rush of emotions he became aware of how exposed he and Tasha were, standing in an open paddock for anyone to see. It was time to take cover and perform his second experiment. That was to find out whether Tasha’s affection was real or just cupboard love for the food he had in his pack.

  He got the answer as soon as he entered Hermit’s Hole. On the floor, between her bed and her bowl, were the remains of a bird. A pukeko, judging by all the purple and black feathers. The feathers and its guts were all that was left. Tasha gathered a wing in her mouth and brought it to Zac, showing off her kill. He dropped to his knees and once again hugged her.

  ‘Yes!’ he said. ‘You are a clever serval, aren’t you?’

  After closing the door, he took off his pack and removed another steak he’d stolen from the freezer. ‘Are you still hungry?’ he asked, holding the meat in front of her mouth.

  She gave a couple of sniffs before turning away. The experiment was over and Zac had the result he’d hoped for: her affection was much deeper than a basic desire for food.

  Tasha was purring.

  Both she and Zac were lying on her bed, the big cat’s body curled within that of the boy’s. Zac would have been purring too, if that were possible for a human. He’d never before had a pet and was blown away by the way he felt. For him it was a new kind of affection. But one that was tinged with a touch of fear. He was worried it wouldn’t last; that just when he’d found this new feeling it would be taken from him.

  As if sensing his fears, Tasha raised her head. She looked first at Zac and then towards the door, which he’d closed. Her ears started scanning. The purring turned to a low growl. Someone was coming.

  Soon Zac could hear something, too: the rustle of bushes as they were pushed apart. He tightened his arm around Tasha. The thought of hiding flashed through his mind, but there was nowhere. They were trapped.

  The movement outside stopped. Tasha’s body tensed, as if getting ready to attack.

  For a time there was nothing and Zac began to think they had left. Then the door gave a little squeak and began opening.

  Tasha stopped growling. She began chirping, just as she had the day before with the Neanderthals.

  Ivan and Yuri! It had to be.

  ‘Tasha?’ called a voice. ‘Tasha?’

  But this was not the gruff call of either Russian. This was a pleasant, soft call — a girl’s voice. An instant later Jess was standing in the frame of the door.

  ‘Zac!’

/>   ‘Jess!’

  They laughed nervously.

  ‘I was scared stiff,’ said Jess. ‘I saw the closed door and thought …’

  ‘You should have called out sooner,’ said Zac. ‘Tasha was getting ready to attack.’

  Jess joined them on the bed. ‘You wouldn’t attack me, would you, Tasha?’ she said, lowering her face to kiss the top of the cat’s head. ‘You wouldn’t attack Jess.’

  In answer, Tasha resumed her purring.

  Zac moved back a bit to let Jess have time with Tasha. He was still spooked by what had happened. What if it had been the Neanderthals? What would he have done? What could he have done? He knew he wouldn’t be able to protect Tasha against either of those two.

  If other people came then he might have more success, but he doubted it. The sort of person who went hunting big cats was unlikely to respond to appeals for mercy. They would want a photo of themselves crouched beside a dead body — something they could post on the internet. That and a skin they could hang on the wall of the lounge and skite about whenever the mates came around for a beer. No, if he was going to protect Tasha, then he had to find some other way.

  He was about to raise this when Jess looked up and said, ‘Did you see all those cars parked by the stream?’

  ‘I saw two,’ said Zac. ‘I was there when they arrived. One lot went up the valley, the others came past here.’

  ‘There were four cars by the time I came through,’ said Jess, grimly.

  ‘We’ve got to do something more to protect her,’ said Zac.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ A pause. ‘What would your dad do if we told him?’

  ‘Probably he’d go to the Department of Conservation or the zoo, or something like that.’

  ‘I think that’s what we should do.’

  Jess glared at him. ‘No! I’m not ready for that.’

  ‘She’ll get shot if we leave her here,’ snapped Zac in frustration.

  ‘No! They’ll never find this place.’

  ‘But what if she goes out to get another pukeko?’

  Jess took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘Okay! We’ll shut the door.’ She pointed to the steak Zac had put in the bowl. ‘That should be enough until we get some cat food, but we need to give her water as well.’ She looked around. ‘We can fill the candleholder until we get something bigger.’