Greg Scowen: The Spanish Helmet

‘What will you do with the original?’ Matt asked.

‘Nothing, for now. This is your discovery, Dr. Cameron. We will safeguard the original until you’ve made any announcements, then we’ll make our own reports and make it available for special display. But the credit for this lies with you.’

Matt thanked Herr Mischeler for his professionalism.

Some ten minutes later, they stood in an office near the Special Collections reading room, watching as a lady meticulously operated a huge industrial scanner that digitised the journal. In what seemed like no time at all, she turned to Herr Mischeler to pass him the leather-bound volume, advising him she was finished.

‘Can you make a copy for Dr. Cameron, please?’ Herr Mischeler asked her.

‘Already have,’ the lady said, as another woman entered from an adjacent room with a bound pile of paper. She accepted the work from her colleague and passed it to Matt.

‘Matt, let me take the copy to the reading room and start translating it now.’ Julia pleaded.

Matt agreed, and passing her the copy, he promised to come and collect her after a coffee with Andreas. As Julia closed the door behind her, the lady turned to Matt again and passed him a grey and red memory stick with an ETH logo on it.

‘This memory stick contains all of the text of the volume as recognised by the OCR. You can use this in any word processor. It might come in handy.’

‘Thanks.’ Matt smiled. ‘I may just find a use for that.’

‘Let me take you back out to the public areas,’ Herr Mischeler said. ‘I have to get back to my work, but Dr. Cameron, it’s been a pleasurable interlude to my typical week.’

‘The pleasure was all ours,’ Matt said.

‘It really was,’ Andreas said. ‘We can’t thank you enough for your accommodation.’

‘No thanks are necessary, gentlemen. Just promise to keep me in the loop on this. I look forward to finding out the whole story. I’ll look after this in the meantime,’ he said, tapping the leather of the original.

He led them out to the lobby and they said their goodbyes. Matt and Andreas decided to pop down to the cafe they had seen on the ground floor. Matt needed a strong coffee and there was a lot to talk about. Then, they would go and see how Julia was getting on. Matt pressed the call button on the lift. As the doors slid open, Matt and Andreas were greeted with the view of two uniformed police officers, complete with holstered side-arms and batons.

‘Are you Dr. Matthew Cameron?’ one of them asked.

Matt looked at Andreas, who nodded to him, reassuring him that police here are trustworthy. ‘Yes,’ he answered.

‘Dr. Cameron, we need to talk to you. Would you and your friend here please accompany us to the station?’

‘Are we under arrest?’

‘No, we just need to talk. It will only take an hour or so.’

‘Sure,’ Matt said, feeling the memory stick in his jacket pocket. ‘Let’s go.’

Matt and Andreas followed the officers into the lift. Matt decided not to add Julia to this fray. He just hoped that she wouldn’t go looking for them before they got back. Something told him she wouldn’t. She had plenty to occupy herself.

The officers escorted Matt and Andreas in silence down to the city, across the river, and into the beautiful old stone police buildings. Arriving at a second floor office, they were introduced to an Interpol Agent by the name of Regenbrecht.

‘How did you know where to find us?’ Matt asked.

‘We received intelligence from an agent of the DCI in New Zealand,’ Regenbrecht said. ‘She asked us to give you her best regards and said she hopes you will one day understand what she did.’

Aimee. Is she just doing her job, or does she actually care?

‘Miss Kingsbridge passed on a report from the NISO. One of their agents had been working on an investigation and obtained knowledge of you and your activities which requires your attention.’

‘Yes, we’re aware of the situation.’ Matt responded, unsure which part of this should be new to him.

‘The officer in question…’ He looked at his notes. ‘…Agent Hemi Davis, was shot and sustained serious injury.’

‘Yes,’ Matt answered, trying not to get impatient, but aware that he had life-changing, nay, history-changing things to get on with.

‘Mr Davis has survived his injuries and has been able to give a full report of his investigation to his superiors.’

‘That’s good,’ Matt said, as Andreas also pricked up his ears to see what was coming.

‘It seems that your colleague in New Zealand, Mr Warren Rennie, had been involved in a conspiracy to create evidence of an archaeological nature that would suggest the Maori were not the first inhabitants of New Zealand.’

‘Not illegal in itself,’ Matt said. ‘Just stupid. But it was when he started shooting at us that I didn’t like him any more.’

Regenbrecht smiled. ‘It’s not what he was trying to do that was the problem,’ the agent continued. ‘It was how he went about doing it. Seems like your friend would stop at nothing, which you also learned after all.’

Matt cringed at the use of the word friend now. Warren had been well short of that. He glanced across at Andreas but caught himself. He knew he was safe with Andreas.

‘That’s true,’ Matt said. ‘Warren showed me his true colours this last month. But I still don’t understand what drove him to it.’

‘Greed,’ Regenbrecht answered. ‘It’s always greed or passion. This time, greed wins.’

‘Greed for what?’ Andreas asked, clearly interested in a little background. Matt was also interested in any information he might glean from this inconvenient visit.

‘Money, the tourist dollar. It’s been reported to us that Warren Rennie was one of the founding members of the Clan of Truth.’

Matt felt his mouth drop open.

‘The Clan of Truth openly fought against Maori tribal tourism organisations in New Zealand, claiming that they, as Celtic descendants, should have the rights to tourism-related commercial land that they own,’ Regenbrecht said.

‘The land that the Iwis claimed as Maori land.’ Matt explained to Andreas. ‘The jet-boating rivers, tourism destinations and activities throughout the South Island… even whale watching in Kaikoura. The New Zealand government gave a lot of rights to the Iwis as redress for the loss of revenue the Maori suffered under Britain’s earlier land purchases.’

Andreas nodded, but looked bewildered. Matt would explain later.

‘So Rennie set out to find evidence that the Celts had colonised New Zealand before the Maori,’ Regenbrecht continued. ‘Evidence that wasn’t available to be found, so Rennie had to create some himself. He set about stealing artefacts from a museum in England. He transported these to New Zealand, and planted them where he could later make a chance discovery.’

Matt had heard this part before, but was it really possible that Warren had constructed the entire scenario? Had Warren really stolen the mirror from a museum, buried it on a farm in Northland, dug it up, and called him out to New Zealand to verify his faked discovery? Matt felt squeamish and cheated. Utterly used.

‘I don’t see how Warren would be capable of doing all this by himself.’ Matt said.

‘Neither did Agent Davis, which is what he needed to report back. Rennie had help. Help with a lot of pull.’

‘Who?’

Agent Regenbrecht slid a photo across the table to Matt. ‘The owner of the farm where Rennie buried his stolen evidence. This man, the other founder of the Clan of Truth.’

Matthew looked down at the photo. Waves of emotion flooded over him, like the pounding surf that follows in the wake of a storm. He felt ill. It couldn’t get any worse.