by Nick Spill
“Not yet, another hundred yards.” Wiremu kept looking through the rear window. “I haven’t been able to contact him. But I wouldn’t put it past him to come up here with his own men. I’ve had the feeling lately that he was branching out on his own, even though he said he was lining up new dealers. Hei Hei’s a cunning bugger.”
Henry stopped and turned to face Wiremu. “I’ll honk twice if I see anything odd. Just don’t expose yourself if it gets nasty. Call us afterwards, okay?”
“Don’t worry about me. You’ve been great. Great friends. I’ll remember this.” Wiremu paused. “I really mean it about swapping dope for Plum. Once I secure it, I’ll contact him.”
“Be careful,” Mel let out as Wiremu gently closed the door and disappeared into the dense bush.
As Henry pulled away he saw two cars at the bend about two hundred yards behind. “They look official. Maybe four men to a car.” He glanced at Mel as he drove.
“I don’t like them. Let’s head back and toot the horn.” She kept her eyes on the two cars in the distance through her side mirror.
Henry turned the next corner, skidded to a halt and turned around. They saw, parked ahead of them, three Holden sedans, a Ford Falcon and a large unmarked black van with three aerials coming out of the roof.
“Shit! They’re soldiers!” Mel spat out. She slid down under the dashboard.
Henry slowed down as he passed the parked vehicles. The lead car had turned around so that the driver could talk to the driver in the next car with their windows down. They blocked Henry’s side of the road, so he tooted his horn twice. They gave him a dirty look as Henry eased onto the shoulder of the narrow road and crawled past them.
“Let’s hope he hears that,” Mel muttered, still under the dashboard.
“What are you doing? They’re out of sight now.”
“Someone might recognize me.”
“Do you think they were soldiers?”
“Cops. Some special unit. Wiremu is going to be in a lot of trouble.”
Henry came back to the Titirangi Road intersection and turned left.
“Does Wiremu mean what he said about the swap?” Henry asked as Mel sat upright and rearranged her hair.
“That might be academic at this point. I wonder, though. Is that what Turner has masterminded all along? And we’ve been the suckers falling into this?” Mel kept glancing back. “What are you doing?”
Henry pulled into a row of shops in Titirangi Township.
“Want an ice cream?”
“I can’t believe you’re thinking of ice cream at a time like this.”
“We’ve done all we’ve promised.”
“Turn around, go back there.” Mel pointed to the road next to the one they had come from at the intersection.
“What are you up to?”
“Just go up there.”
Henry drove up the new road. “The bush is probably crawling with cops. They’ll have guns. I mean, it’s a bad scene. You’re not, oh no.” He slowed down. Another car, a young couple in a convertible, overtook them.
“I’ve gone this far for Wiremu. If he is our key to Plum, I want to see he comes to no harm.”
“But what if you get caught? You admitted yourself you have your suspicions about him.”
“I’m an innocent party. Go and get an ice cream and wait for me back here in say, half an hour. I went to pee in the bush and got lost. Okay?” She looked at her watch. “I’ll be back by six.”
“That’s a big pee.”
Henry came to a stop. “No. I’m not going to let you go. Do you think after all these years, we’ve finally got together and I’m going to lose you because you want to play Wonder Woman? Forget it!” He grabbed her firmly by the wrists. She twisted out of his grip so that she held him tightly.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be very careful.” She leaned over to kiss him quickly, keeping a grip on his wrists. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. And who’s Wonder Woman?” She slipped out of the car before Henry could answer and disappeared into the bush.
• • •
Wiremu had managed to climb a small ridge when he heard the BMW’s two horn blasts. It was too soon. Something had gone wrong. He could turn back and stop Rangi farther up the road, but if the Drug Squad or the Armed Offenders Squad or every bloody cop in Auckland was crawling through the bush, what difference did it make? He had no radio or getaway car, so he decided to stay put. He did not want to be caught in a truck with three tons of grass. He would spend the rest of his life in Parry and join his half-brother again, Rawiri. He wished he had Rawiri by his side now.
Wiremu maneuvered through the undergrowth and vines until he came to a spot where he could see the opening with the fallen log and the track that was wide enough for one truck. He spotted six men in camouflage gear bearing M16s jog down the track. Definitely narcs, he could tell by their attitude and their mustaches. Every plainclothes cop went to the same bad barber. Not like his Mel special. He automatically ran his right hand through his short hair to check its length.
Wiremu watched them take up positions behind the five-finger and pinewood trees. They moved without noise. The bush was so thick it was possible for someone to walk past them less than a foot away and not be seen. He remained motionless. He noted the positions of the six and relaxed. He had some time before Rangi drove into the trap.
• • •
Henry leaned against the BMW and finished his ice cream outside the shop. He had already counted ten more cars take the turn to Helensville. He lost count after half an hour, then he spotted a red Holden full of young Maori men. The car went so fast he could not identify the driver.
• • •
Hei Hei’s car bounced up the track to the fallen log. He turned off the engine by disconnecting the wires under the steering wheel. Rere and Mokau, two giants with black hair down to their shoulders, got out and stretched. Freddy, as small as Hei Hei, but fatter, surveyed the bush and grunted. They wore jeans, boots and leather jackets, despite the heat.
Hei Hei exited and breathed in the fresh air. The three Maoris stepped over the log and into the small clearing, where they lay down in the tall grass.
“Just as well you fire bombed that wok place.” Rere coughed. “Otherwise we would’ve been locked up. They sure panicked when all the windows blew in. Never seen so many cops run away!”
“Yeah. And we were really teaching those Samoans a lesson,” Freddy added.
“Should’ve bought some beer. This is hot work.” Hei Hei laughed as he stepped over the log and joined his mates. He scanned the surrounding bush and noted that the clearing was in a densely wooded hollow. He had come here a few weeks ago with Wiremu when they had scouted out possible locations. This one was ideal for an ambush, which was why they had not chosen it.
There seemed to be nobody else in the bush. There was no sign of any cars parked off the road, and his instincts told him that when Wiremu arrived, he would be able to deal with Wiremu and Rangi very quickly, before they unloaded the truck. Hei Hei knew that Wiremu would come up here alone because he did not trust anyone. No other Maoris who had worked with Wiremu had been contacted. Wiremu was too hot.
Hei Hei flopped down in the grass and looked up at the blue sky. A perfect late summer afternoon. The cicadas rubbed their wings together to form a peaceful backdrop. Being in the bush always brought out the poet in him. He started to think of a new poem about the Piwakawaka as he saw a pied fantail flitter over his head. Its song made him smile.
• • •
Wally McShane had the van hidden behind a clump of trees near the turnoff they had targeted as the rendezvous point. From the tinted rear window they could just make out the gap in the bush where the track was. He communicated to his men on a radio frequency reserved for the Drug Squad. The tail car with two of his men headed towards Helensville. They were to spot the vehicle with the dope then turn around and follow it back, out of sight. Grimble and Cadd had parked their car farther down
the track and now sat next to all the communication equipment in the back of the van. The van housed cabinets for armaments, first aid gear and seats for 12 men in full gear.
Cadd and Grimble sweated. It was over 90 degrees in the van.
Grimble watched the red Holden turn up the track and whistled. He expected another truck or a van, or maybe several vans and cars, but why only one car full of Maoris?
“Recognize anyone?” McShane asked Grimble.
“Couldn’t see too clearly from here. Was that Wilson?”
“That would be him,” McShane growled.
“Then again, he could be there already.”
McShane had ordered his two sharpshooters into position opposite the concealed track. He had two cars hidden, off the road, on either side of the track, in case he had to block or pursue anyone. He had three extra men in the van, one to operate the communications systems, one to administer first aid, and Sergeant Adams. He had placed two more outside on his side of the road, ready to back up the six in the clearing. With everyone hidden there was no need for roadblocks or an overt presence. McShane had planned a quick, efficient strike and arrest. He hoped no one was listening in on his radio band other than the boys back at Cook Street.
The men crouched in the bush and listened with their earphones as McShane talked to the tail car. Each officer was equipped with a tiny plastic mouthpiece that extended from their earphone to a miniature radio concealed in their back. This was their first full-scale operation with the new hands-free communication system. They wore 9mm Browning pistols, spare magazines and assault knives on their belts and held M16s or their own preferred rifle with scope. McShane had handpicked the men for this squad and they represented his most experienced officers.
Cadd fingered the revolver he wore on a shoulder holster. He felt like a real cop, just like the heroes he saw in the cinema. He had used the Model 10 many times on the range, and he had watched Grimble qualify with his. Cadd wondered if he could use it on a live target, what it would feel like to aim at another human being and squeeze the trigger?
“Unit One, keep those four in your sights but don’t move. We expect more soon,” McShane spoke into his microphone.
The leader, Saunders, confirmed the order and that the four Maoris were laid out in the grass, relaxed. They had no visible weapons. The policemen could hear the cicadas that were picked up and amplified through the radio.
The tail car called in that they had passed an old Bedford truck with a sealed canopy. One young Maori male at the wheel. McShane instructed them to turn back and follow out of sight, then wait behind the last bend before the track. Cadd and Grimble listened to the driver give his commentary on the truck that was now a quarter of a mile ahead of him.
• • •
Rangi gawked at the older Ford sedan as it passed him. It did not look like an undercover car. But the two big Pakehas and one with a mustache, well, they had to be cops. Easy does it, he thought. He kept his eyes open for any other sign of the police as he crunched down into second gear and looked for the turn off. He found what was the track, but he went past it, eyeing the surrounding bush. He slowly drove to the Titirangi Road intersection and pulled over at the shoulder. He looked around for anything unusual and tried to gather his thoughts.
“He’s gone past the turn off. Permission to pursue.” The radio in the van crackled.
“No! Drive off the road and stay hidden and wait for instructions,” McShane retorted. He turned to Grimble as if seeking confirmation.
“Could he have seen the car?” Grimble offered.
“All units stay in position,” McShane spoke. “He might have been spooked. If he doesn’t come back soon, we’ll go after him. A truck like that can’t go far.” McShane hunched his shoulders and waited. The three detectives stared through the rear window towards the road, willing the truck to come back.
McShane had to have the Maoris caught red-handed with the narcotics in the truck, that is, if the truck contained marijuana. To pick them off separately made for a weak or no case. The truck had to come back.
• • •
Rangi knew he had to make a decision. Something he was not good at. If they were cops, they could have been heading elsewhere. He had not seen anything in his side-view mirrors nor had he spotted any other activity on the road. If he drove into Auckland, what would Wiremu think? That he had stolen all the pot? Or that he was going to another rendezvous? He wiped his face with his hands. He wanted to get rid of this load and drive into Auckland empty. If he rode into the city with a load of pot, he would be killed. Some gang member would knock him off. The load was too valuable.
Rangi dropped down to first gear as he came to the opening again. He stopped the Bedford. He waited with the engine idling. He looked up and down the road. Then he stared into the bush.
McShane and Grimble could see the truck from their rear window. They looked back at it in silence, not daring to move or speak.
Finally, Rangi made a loud grating noise as he tried to find first gear again. If this was an ambush, to hell with it! Rangi thought. He had done his job. He could not get told off for following orders, could he? He was just the driver.
“He’s about to turn in. Keep your positions,” McShane uttered into the microphone. He could not mask his excitement. He gave the thumbs-up to Grimble who smiled back. They watched as the truck pulled into the track and wondered how the hell the Maori driver could not see them. They were so close.
Rangi could see nothing but trees. It was so dark in there. It was black, not green. He drove as far as he could to the fallen log. Branches hit the sides. He pulled up the brake and switched the motor off. Then he noticed a new red Holden in front of him. Shit! The fuzz! He was petrified. His instincts had been right. He should have kept going. It was too late now. He listened to the engine die and the water gurgle in the radiator. Then there was silence.
He remembered to hit his horn twice. He kept turning his head as he sat in the cabin with his arms folded.
No cops jumped out from behind the trees to surround him. Who would not have heard the noisy old Bedford? Wiremu, please appear and relieve me of my agony, he prayed.
Hei Hei was almost asleep when he heard the truck approach. He poked his head above the grass and saw Rangi behind the wheel. Hei Hei looked back at the surrounding bush and waited for someone else to make a move. He saw that Rangi looked nervous.
“G’day, mate.” Hei Hei stood up and waved to Rangi. Rere, Mokau and Freddy rose out of the long grass together.
Rangi sighed with relief, pleased to see a familiar face. He climbed down from the cabin and scanned the bush again. He did not want to voice his fears for he hated to be laughed at.
“Seems real quiet here. Where’s Wiremu?” Rangi tried to act as casual as possible. He jumped onto the log and his eyes scanned the trees and undergrowth. It did not feel right, but he could not tell if it was his paranoia or something more definable. He did not mention the plainclothes cops he spotted farther up the road.
Wiremu watched where he thought the six cops were hidden and assumed they were observing the Maoris in the clearing. Although he could only spot four; the truck obscured the other two. Outnumbered and outgunned, (what had changed?), he was not going to act first.
“Don’t know. Thought he’d be here.” Hei Hei shrugged and looked around. Show yourself. Wiremu, and see what happens, he said to himself. He turned and headed to the back of the truck, the others followed him.
Wiremu watched as he saw four of the hidden cops begin to crawl towards the Maoris. He could make out their white earpieces, just like the Secret Service agents that guarded the President of the United States. That meant there were more cops somewhere. The entire bush could be swarming with them. They could be spying on him. He scanned the bush slowly and tried to catch a flash of gunmetal or an odd movement. When he turned back, he had difficulty in spotting the four who had advanced in their camouflage gear. Then he saw how near they were to the fallen tree an
d his truck full of dope. They were going to arrest Hei Hei and seize all the grass. Over three tons of it! He had to do something. Two of the cops were almost up to the fallen tree.
He cupped his hands and yelled as loud as he could.
“E Hei Hei, he aha to koha ma ku?!!”
(“Hei Hei, what is your gift to me?!”) It was the sentence Potatau called out to Te Rauparaha when Potatau was surrounded by Te Rauparaha’s men and was about to be massacred.
Wiremu’s words echoed through the clearing.
Hei Hei could not tell where Wiremu’s voice came from, but he immediately understood. He squeezed out of the back of the truck with a sealed plastic bag of marijuana in one hand. He stuffed it into his pocket and reached inside his jacket for his sawed-off shotgun. The other three followed, bringing up their shotguns.
Hei Hei had underestimated Wiremu. The bastard had surrounded him and was going to try to blast him out of the bush. Rangi, who was beside the truck, leapt up into the cabin and stuck his head under the steering wheel. He wanted no part of any violence.
Every policeman in the bush heard the call to arms, and they wondered how many more Maoris were out there.
The echoing cry unnerved them as they crouched, holding their rifles.
“What is it?” McShane barked.
“A Maori war cry. There’s more of them out here. We can’t see them,” one of the hidden men whispered as he watched his Maori targets behind the fallen tree.
“It’s an ambush.” Saunders came over the radio.
Wiremu saw two cops peer out from their hiding places and look around. He could see the whites of their eyes and sensed their fear.
“It’s Wiremu! We’re fucking surrounded. We’ll have to fight our way out.” Hei Hei aimed his shotgun at the bush hoping to see a target. The other three had their shotguns at the ready as they spread out from the back of the truck and ran to the fallen tree.
“Ena whakamaku ki enei whakamaku!” he yelled back at the trees. (“Your popguns against ours!”)
The Piwakawaka reappeared to hover near Hei Hei’s wild hair as he lifted his head above the fallen tree to catch the first cop at point-blank range. The cop was about to bring up his rifle when Hei Hei emptied one barrel into his face. The cop’s head splattered over the grass behind him. The explosion temporarily deafened every policeman with earpieces.
