You don’t need me when you can feed him your bullshit and keep an eye on him yourself, do you?
Hemi could imagine Rennie also used more of his scare tactics, telling Cameron they were being watched by the Government. If only he knew. Hemi had to smile at the irony of that thought but couldn’t get over the cheek of the bastard. Fancy inviting someone you had fooled into believing was your friend to a country on the other side of the world to take part in a wild goose chase. No doubt Rennie was setting up Matthew Cameron to take the fall when his absurd bloody theory didn’t come to fruition. An innocent man goes down in place of Warren Rennie. Bile rose in Hemi’s throat and he tapped the steering wheel in time with his racing pulse. The situation was all too similar, memories came flooding back.
Hemi was a happy seventeen year old finishing high school. His future wasn’t paved with gold but it was promising enough and he made his father very proud. Dad was the local mean cop, Robo-cop they called him. He wasn’t a much liked man, but he was honest and fair. Hemi loved him to bits. It was just the two of them.
Hemi killed his mother during childbirth. Dad never said it like that, but Hemi knew he was to blame so he held on to his Dad with all his might. But that year, it all changed. Hemi’s father got involved in a case investigating some racist crime. Thanks to his efforts, two Pakeha went down for the crime. But a man named Warren Rennie stuck his head in, accusing Hemi’s dad of tampering with evidence to make sure the local Maori got the result they wanted. Rennie’s efforts paid off. A suspension and quick trial followed and Dad ended up behind bars, albeit only for eight weeks. He was dead within one. Tough cops don’t last in common jails.
Hemi went off the rails when he learned of his father’s death. Dad’s words from a week earlier rang in his ears. ‘Whatever happens, I’ll watch over you. I’ll always be there.’ Where was he now? Was he watching over Hemi? None of it made sense. All Hemi knew was that Warren Rennie caused his father to be in jail. He was certain Rennie knew nothing about him, and wouldn’t have cared anyway. So Hemi decided to make it his life mission to get revenge, or justice as he preferred to call it.
The problem was, Hemi would never break the law. If there was one thing his father had thoroughly stamped into that head of his, it was that you never break the law, not for any reason. So if you can’t break it, you get yourself above it. That meant you need to be a top cop or an agent for the NISO. Those normally get selected from the best of the best.
Hemi joined the army the day after his father’s funeral, a sad affair with just fourteen attendees. He didn’t even get to see his poor Dad’s body; it was so mangled and beaten. He watched with a hollow heart as the coffin was lowered into the ground. As it sank down, Hemi made his decision to visit the recruitment office the next day. He signed up for communications training and made a real effort to be the best. Not only did Hemi lose weight and get in shape, he was at the top of his intake and was approached by the NISO within six months of joining up. He was given agent status and inducted into an elite undercover squad investigating the radical cells that posed potential terrorist risks. His job was to infiltrate the groups, gather information, and to take them down if necessary.
The delight he felt when he discovered, by some sheer chance, that one of his potential targets was Warren Rennie was immense. And the absolute joy that he had when he realised Rennie had no idea who he was, matched it, and then some. Now, last week, when Rennie called him, woke him, and painted a target on himself with a big red brush, Hemi almost died from happiness. Finally he had a chance to work towards his legal justice. Nothing would get in his way.
Matt had just settled into bed when his mobile rang. He looked at the caller ID and groaned.
‘Good morning, Dwight,’ Matt said, answering the phone and compensating for the time difference.
‘Good morning, Matthew.’
‘It’s ten at night here.’ God, this man’s hopeless.
‘Oh, right. I didn’t stop and think.’
‘It’s alright. How are things back at the department?’
Dwight dodged the light talk.
‘Matt, I’m calling about your friend, Warren Rennie.’
Matt sat up properly and turned the bedside lamp on. He had a bad feeling about this.
‘What about Warren?’
‘There’s no easy way to put it, Matt.’
‘Just give it to me straight, I can handle it.’
Matt thought he heard Dwight chuckle.
‘Did you never bother to check him out before you jumped in on this foolish errand? He’s a fraud.’
‘What do you mean, a fraud?’
‘He’s not qualified. He just runs around with crazy conspiracy theories, trying to convince the world that New Zealand was discovered by the Celts!’
‘Where do you get this stuff, Dwight?’
‘Colleagues in New Zealand. Qualified historians and archaeologists.’
‘Did you stop to consider they might be wrong?’
Dwight laughed. ‘Wrong? Don’t be naive Matt, they’re professionals. They’ve done their research.’
‘Have they? Could you send me a copy of their work then? Like a report of a complete archaeological investigation that shows emphatically that the Celts weren’t in New Zealand?’
Dwight was silent.
‘Do you have any reports like that, Dwight?’
‘No. But if academics are saying it isn’t so, then it isn’t so. You’re talking about your peers, Matt. Do you really think you can rely on some hack fool more than you can on qualified scientists?’
‘If the qualified scientists have been compromised by the status quo, yes.’
Matt smiled. It felt good to stand up to Dwight.
‘Argh. Matt, you’re acting like as big a fool as your friend. I’m more than disappointed in you right now.’
‘I’m sorry, Dwight. But I need to do this. Don’t worry though, I’m being careful not to bring the department in to any ill repute.’
‘Don’t be daft, just going there and hanging about with Warren Rennie is already seeing to that.’ Dwight sighed. ‘I’ll only ask you once again, Matt, will you leave this investigation alone and get back here before doing any further damage to my reputation?’
Your reputation? What an arrogant prick. Matt hesitated. He didn’t want to jeopardise his job at the department,
‘No. I have to see this through, at least until I’m satisfied that someone qualified, me in this case, has actually considered the possibility properly.’
‘Then you leave me with no choice. You should accept this conversation as an oral warning. Your first written warning is in your letterbox.’
‘You’ve got to be kidding, Dwight. That’s over the top.’
‘If you decide to take my advice and leave this Celtic tomfoolery well alone, come back home. Then I’ll retract the warnings. Goodbye, Matt.’
Dwight was gone. Matt put the phone on the bedside cabinet and lay down to stare at the ceiling. Some of the paint was cracking and peeling off.
Someone must have got to Dwight. He can’t be shallow enough not to question his peers, can he?
Matt leaned over and slapped the lamp’s switch. He rolled back into bed and tossed and turned until he finally found what seemed like a comfortable position. It wasn’t, but after a while, he fell asleep anyway.
CHAPTER 18
Matt looked down at his watch when he saw Aimee approach him. Three minutes late. Not bad at all.
‘Hey,’ Aimee said when she stood in front of him. ‘Sorry I’m late.’
‘You’re not late.’
‘I saw you looking at your watch, silly.’
‘Sorry. Old habit. Picked it up in Switzerland.’
‘You’ll have to tell me all about it sometime.’
‘I will.’
‘So I thought we could go to Mission Bay for lunch. It’s a nice little spot just around the harbour from here.’
‘OK. We’ll walk then?’