“Stop the ute,” Arnie roared. “Stop it right now. Now get out of the driver’s seat. Don’t even think of saying no. Just do it.” He was really angry, not to mention worried about his paintwork. “Now just tell me, Skylark, what is this all about?”
“I’ve already told you,” Skylark answered. “This is Plan B.”
Half an hour later, the ferry was ready for sailing. The marshall signalled the rear doors closed. All the vehicles were aboard. The ferry weighed anchor and headed out of the harbour. As it approached the heads, it began to pitch and yaw in the currents coming from the Straits. The captain, looking ahead, saw the white-tipped waves just waiting to have fun with his ship. “Tell the crew to prepare for a rough-weather running,” he said. “Better let the passengers know it’s not going to be an easy crossing.”
The open sea was a fist which hit the ferry hard. The ship shuddered, dipped, and mountainous waves sprayed across its bow. For a second it wallowed in a trough, until the next fist hit it again. Behind, the captain saw a huge black storm cloud approaching from the rear, broiling over the sea.
Approaching from the rear?
The storm cloud splintered, separated and fragmented. When the captain looked again he saw black seashags diving down upon his ship. As they hurtled lower, their leader, Kawanatanga, uttered his hunting cry.
Find the chick. Kill her. Do it now. Now.
The seashag squad entered the companionways, flying into the staterooms, along corridors and down stairways. There was pandemonium as passengers and seashags confronted each other. News broadcasts would later report that the incident was a freak occurrence to do with seabirds confused by the weather and trying to find shelter.
Where is she! She must be here. Find her.
Meantime, at Wellington Airport, the morning flight to Nelson took to the air. Arnie looked out of the window and saw the ferry ploughing its way through the waves below. He thanked his lucky stars for Skylark’s credit card.
“This is a great Plan B,” he said. “Thank you. Are you sure you don’t want the window seat?”
Skylark’s face was white and she was clutching the arms of her seat as if her life depended on it. “Please don’t make this any more difficult than it is,” she said. “Did I tell you that I hate flying?”
“So I guess,” Arnie said, “you wouldn’t want a triple cheeseburger followed by a chocolate ice cream sundae, would you?”
Skylark glared at him.
“Look, mate,” she hissed, “I’d quit while I was ahead if I was you.”
Chapter Ten
“You mean Deedee is dead?”
Skylark looked into the face of the kaumatua who greeted her at the Maori Language Centre where Joe had said they’d find Deedee. Behind him she could see a young teacher taking children in Maori language lessons.
“Ae, kua mate te koka,” the old man confirmed. “She died three weeks ago. We had a big tangi for her. She was well loved.”
“But she can’t be dead,” Skylark protested. She looked back at the street, where Arnie was waiting for her.
“The children, particularly, will miss her,” the kaumatua continued. “Although Deedee lived way up on the mountain tops, she never missed a day’s work teaching them to look after the forest and the birds she loved.” He gestured in the direction of Deedee’s mountains. The peaks were like arrows pointing at Heaven. “All that you see up there belonged to her,” he said. “The tribe is taking it over. After all these years of complaining about her sitting up there protecting the land, they’ve now realised that Deedee saved a valuable resource for us.”
“I’ve come so far,” Skylark said. “I’ve come all this way just to see her.” She felt as if a wall had arisen between her and where she should be going. There was no way around it, over it or under it. Nothing.
The old man tried to be sympathetic. “Were you a mokopuna of Deedee?” he asked.
“No,” Skylark answered. She saw the look of puzzlement in his face, but she didn’t want to explain. “Thank you for letting me know,” she said. She turned to leave, and as she did so the young teacher gave her a curious glance, her eyes widening.
Skylark went down to the taxi to tell Arnie the news. “Could you ring Hoki?” she asked.
Mitch answered the telephone. “Are you there, Mother Ship? Do you copy?” Mitch thought it was a kid playing jokes, and was about to hang up when Hoki walked in. She snatched the receiver from him.
“I copy, Arnie. What’s the matter?”
“Deedee is dead. She died three weeks ago.”
“Aue, te koka kua ngaro ki te Po,” Hoki wailed.
Now it was Skylark’s turn to grab the phone. “Hoki? Are you there?” she said. “I’m really sorry about Deedee, but Arnie and I have to keep going. Do you have any idea where we should go now, where we should look? I’ve got to find the Time Portal.”
Hoki calmed down. “Deedee may have left a message for you in her house up in the mountains,” she said. “Go up there and see if you can find it. If you can’t, search for the Time Portal itself.”
“What does it look like?” Skylark asked.
“How would I know!” Hoki answered. “A doorway, I suppose.”
Arnie shrugged his shoulders. “A doorway? What kind of doorway?”
Skylark was in no mood for questions. “Let’s just do it,” she answered.
She was halfway into the taxi when she heard a voice calling to her.
“Were you looking for Deedee?” The young teacher was standing on the steps with the kaumatua, who was looking somewhat abashed. “The kaumatua is getting forgetful in his old age,” the teacher said. “He was supposed to give you an urgent message from Lottie.”
“Lottie?”
“She’s Deedee’s granddaughter. She told us that a strange girl would come looking for the koka. That’s you, isn’t it! Lottie works at The Warehouse on the checkout. You’re to go there. She said to tell you to hurry. There’s not much time left.”
The Warehouse was really hopping. All end-of-season lines had been discounted up to 50 per cent, and the locals had come in searching for bargains in clothes, shoes, garden furniture and kitchenware. Six checkout lanes were operating.
“Which one do you think is Lottie?” Skylark asked.
“The one chewing the gum,” Arnie answered. He pointed to a big, boisterous girl with blonde highlights in her hair (and she had lots of hair), greasy lipsticked lips, and cleavage — and there was lots of that too.
Skylark’s eyes connected with Lottie’s and, from the girl’s reaction, she knew that Arnie was dead on target. Lottie put up her “Position Closed” sign, took off her smock and yelled out in a loud voice: “Jack? I’m taking my lunch break now.” No asking. Just an announcement. Take it or leave it.
“How did you know she was Lottie?” Skylark asked as Lottie shoved her way through the shoppers.
“Easy,” Arnie said. “Just look for the bossiest girl on the block and she’s bound to be one of you.”
Lottie was fumbling in her purse for her car keys. When she reached Skylark she introduced herself. “Hello, I’m Charlotte. People call me Lottie, but my enemies call me Charlie. I’m Nani Deedee’s mokopuna. I know who you are. I was expecting you three days ago. I must say you’re cutting it really fine.” She swept on past, and Skylark and Arnie followed her out to the car park. She fumbled in her purse again and brought out a cellphone. “So what’s your name?”