‘You be careful over there, Matt.’ Julia said.
Matt smiled. ‘What could possibly go wrong?’
CHAPTER 3
Friday, July 24, 1525
With blue skies and favourable winds, we set sail out of La Coruna in the early hours of the morning. The first port of call during this journey to the Moluccas is La Gomera in the Canarias, where we will take on supplies. Our fleet consists of seven ships. Mine is the San Lesmes, a caravel of 80 tonnes. She is a fine craft with a shallow draft. Quick and easy to manage. The scent of her timbers combining with the sea air makes me feel at ease. I am home aboard her. The fleet crew numbers 442 men. My crew is 36 strong. All have confessed and taken the sacrament before our departure, as ordered by Loaisa, the commander. He sails on the 300 tonne Santa Maria, the flagship.
The master of arms and gunner have armed the San Lesmes with six culverins and four falcon cannons. It is presumed that this smaller caravel can be used well in defence situations due to her manoeuvrability and pace. Aside from our weapons, armour, and crew, we have on board a wide range of stores. These include: biscuit, beans, chickpeas, lentils, oil, anchovies, dried fish and pork, cheese, sugar, garlic, rice, flour, dried fruits, wine, and a cow. I am also keeping two spaniels. They make good companions and are accomplished at retrieving game.
All of the captains have been provided with a set of instructions, approved by the king. A summary of these follows:
The expedition is not to discover or touch any land within the limits of the king of Portugal. We are to watch every night for the flagship, which will flash a lantern once and expect a reply of one flash from us. Two, three, and four flashes from the flagship mean we are to go on another tack, shorten sail, and strike sails respectively. Many flashes is the signal for disaster. Pilots, masters and mates are not to drop anchor without first sounding and ascertaining that the bottom is clean and safe. If any inhabited islands are discovered within the Spanish line, communication should be developed with the inhabitants and a sign left to show that they were discovered by order of the king. If any religious crew are willing to remain voluntarily, we should make arrangements for them to land.
In the event that a ship parts company from the fleet, she is to make the best of her way to the Moluccas and wait there for a month. If the fleet does not arrive, we are to place a signal on the ground consisting of five stones arranged as a cross, set up a wooden cross, and leave a document in a jar giving our date of arrival and other particulars. We should leave the same signals if other lands are met.
As we sail further from the coast of Spain, the blue of the sea is deepening. We have been blessed with a gentle swell though this could change at short notice. The situation will be different around the southern reaches of the Americas but the men and I are prepared for this. I anticipate that we are going to have a fruitful and exciting journey. I pray to Jesus and his holy mother Mary that they watch over us in the next months.
CHAPTER 4
Hemi waited. He had waited for four and a half years, so waiting was nothing new. Waiting was what undercover agents do. Until his prey took the bait, Hemi had to occupy himself with other tasks, so while he waited Hemi had built up his own little business from home. He had further developed his army communications training and now repaired computers and maintained websites. It suited him perfectly. He lived alone in a small, two-bed home he had saved up for. From the window of his home office he could see the tip of Rangitoto. He knew that with another floor on top of his house he would be able to see the water too. He had discovered that when he climbed on the roof to install a satellite dish.
Hemi was preoccupied with changing some room prices on a local hotel website when the little red mobile phone that never rang, did. He picked it up with nervous anticipation.
‘Hemi Davis,’ he said, clearing his throat. It wasn’t his real name, of course, but the alias the agency had created for him.
‘Good morning, Hemi, do you know who this is?’ Hemi recognised the voice immediately. ‘We have some work for you.’
‘Yeah… I know who you are, I’m available.’ Hemi smiled. His wait might be over.
Hemi couldn’t believe his luck. He had hoped he might get to work with this particular man ever since he realised who he was during his early work with the agency. As soon as Hemi saw him it was clear a destiny was being fulfilled: fate had placed the man responsible for his father’s death directly in his sights. That fate worked its wonders again when Hemi was assigned an undercover mission to penetrate the Clan of Truth, the very organisation that this creep was involved with. The Clan of Truth had an agenda; they were considered racist activists, out to prove that the Maori were not the rightful natives of New Zealand. Hemi had infiltrated the group and involved himself with Website work for them. He had made it clear he would go to any length to help their cause. Finally, after all the waiting and hinting, he was being called into action, by the top man himself. It was perfect in every way. Maybe the opportunity would arise to get a little justice, the legal way. His nerves intensified. Hemi loved a challenge. He wouldn’t have signed up for work like this if he didn’t.
‘What’s the job?’ Hemi asked.
‘A British academic is coming to New Zealand to do a little foraging in history. We need you to keep an eye on him. Don’t worry about hiding yourself too much, we want him to know he’s being watched. Make yourself look like the GSCB or some government agency. Use whatever techniques necessary to keep him on the path we have predetermined for him. Do you understand what I mean?’
‘Yes, I know which path you mean.’ Hemi smiled at the thought of pretending to work for his own agency.
‘Good. Dr. Cameron will arrive on Sunday on the 2pm flight from Singapore. Be at the airport to welcome him. Have you got a car that fits the appropriate profile?’
‘Yes, a black Corolla.’
‘A pleasure working with you, Hemi, we’ll be in touch.’
Hemi listened for the click and watched as the phone returned to its former standby state. The polite final comment rang in Hemi’s ears. Lip service, he mused. Hemi knew better than to think this bastard actually gave a damn about him. Hemi was just there to do some dirty work.
He saved the page he was working on, uploaded it to the server, and closed Dreamweaver. That was work for the next few weeks, he thought, his customers would have to wait. Hemi grabbed a Coke from the fridge and pulled up a fresh browser session. The Internet was his friend, he spent hours online every week and was a self-professed web-guru. He punched ‘Dr. Cameron’ and ‘United Kingdom’ into the Google toolbar and sifted through the results, quickly identifying his target.
You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, Mr. Matthew Cameron. By contacting Hemi, the Clan of Truth had revealed themselves as people not to mess around with. But then, they didn’t know what kind of man they were dealing with either.
Hemi smiled and spoke to himself. ‘Let the games begin.’
CHAPTER 5
Matt opened and closed every kitchen drawer. He checked the bedside cabinets and the shelf in the little lounge. As he went over the same routine three times and still came up empty, his muttering got louder. In a modest little place like his, Matt knew that he should be able to keep on top of things with ease, but he tended to get somewhat disorganised. Matters were worsened by Rose, his loving landlady, who regularly let herself in and cleaned up Matt’s place for him. She thrived on it.
‘Well Meridian,’ Matt said to the ball of fluff at his feet, ‘I guess Aunty Rose is the only living entity that knows where the camera is.’