“Did he indeed? I don’t remember. But I would certainly have been interested.”
“If he’d made a discovery, it would have been important for him to consult the local Maori in the development of his discovery. Did he ever ask your advice about this?”
This time there was a longer pause than usual, but the smile never left the cherubic face. “My dear boy, you would never get away with such suppositions in court. You are supposing that he discovered something, and you are also supposing that I was his adviser.” He looked up at the Waitoa map. “Let us deal in facts. The only discovery I know about is the huia.”
“I believe he wrote a letter to the Whanau Apanui that was not sent.”
He shook his head sadly. “David, more supposition. Did I hear the word ‘believe’?”
“I’ve seen the letter, and I’ve asked the senior kaumatua if he received it.”
The smile remained but the barrister seemed to grow in size and David sensed a tone in his voice which he had not heard before “Didn’t you tell me that Tane never let anyone know what he was doing? How did you get hold of that supposed letter?”
The question hit home. He was too ashamed to say that he had rifled Tane’s private cabinet, and changed the subject. “I hear you have a marine reserve all around Pataratara.”
“It’s like the huia. The community is very proud of it. I’ve supplied rangers and a patrol boat to keep out the poachers.”
“I hope you don’t mind me asking questions,” he said lamely.
“Not at all, but I would suggest you keep your suppositions to yourself. And may I offer another suggestion.” He wagged his finger as if he was addressing a witness whose evidence had been revealed as unreliable. “Would you kindly consult me before you talk to Eruera in the future.”
The great barrister rose ponderously from his desk and smiled as he offered his hand. “But I do enjoy talking to you. And Dr Magnusson will be pleased to get your report in due course.”
The conversation had been a total disaster. In a classic courtroom interchange, his suppositions had been courteously but totally demolished. Not only that but his future access to Whanau Apanui had been blocked.
Only one choice. He fingered the tickets in his pocket.
He took the long way home. It was not until dark that he approached his flat in Grafton. The first thing he aimed to do was to unlock the cabinet again and look carefully to see whether he had really seen that letter. But as he entered Tane’s room, he knew that something was different.
The drawers of the desk had been pulled out and papers were strewn all over the floor. But worst of all, the locked cabinet had vanished and the empty place in the corner stared at him accusingly.
All the papers he had examined had gone!
CHAPTER 15
David had never gone to great pains to make the flat burglar proof, so the intruders had had no trouble in prising open a window to get in. The only thing they couldn’t open they had taken away. If it was robbery, it was not one that he wanted to report to the police, because his own actions could also be suspected. Yet the coincidences were too strong to ignore. He had told only one person about the letter.
Of course he had no proof, and he could not suffer any further demolition of his suppositions and the revelation of his burglary to boot.
He chose a time when there were not many people in the staff cafeteria, glanced warily around the room and leaned forward as he spoke.
His colleague in the School of Law seemed amused by his antics and made no attempt to lower his voice. “He’s a real sweetie.”
“Does he have any special interest?” asked David.
“International law. Riveting stuff on genocide in Africa just after independence. You should hear some of his stories.”
“What stories?”
“About the events which some call the rebellion and others the awakening and what happened to the white missionaries, teachers, farmers and anyone who happened to be working for them. The Africans got drunk before they started with their machetes. They called it fighting for freedom. Then they turned back to witchcraft and called it religion because it was African. Dr Hawthorne was sent there as a judge but couldn’t get many convictions because the defendants claimed they were fighting for their indigenous rights, and the African judges supported them.”
It was not a subject which interested David. “But what are his lectures like?
“They are riddled with biblical texts but he always attracts lots of students.”
David toyed nervously with his coffee cup. He had never been interested in politics or history and he didn’t really understand what his colleague was getting at, but he had an uneasy feeling that he had more sympathy with Sir Charles than he chose to reveal.
“But what about the man himself?”
“The most remarkable thing about him is that he’s a completely self-made man. Look at him – scholarships to King’s College in Auckland and to Oxford University, Queen’s Counsel, knighted for his service to the community. But do you know who his father was? “
The conversation was not going anywhere. “No idea.”
“Do you remember that backcountry Northland farmer who got all that publicity in the press a few years ago about his law suit with the local iwi about the wahi tapu on his farm? He belonged to some obscure Christian sect and refused to allow them on to his land to perform their rituals – which he regarded as superstition. He even built a pigsty on their sacred hill and refused to take it down. Then when he tried to sell the farm to pay his legal bills, no one would buy it because of the dispute. He became so paranoid about the iwi that he spent all his money on petitions and suits to Government and local councils and letters to everyone he could think of. The trouble was he was so one-eyed that in the end no one listened to him. Finally, it was believed he took his own life. Well, that was Caleb Hawthorne.”
“Couldn’t his son have given him advice?”
“Probably too stubborn to accept it.”
“But what does all this tell us about Sir Charles?”
“He could be Prime Minister if he chose, but he loves acting more. They say he can be both Falstaff and King Lear, both comic and tragic. Have you seen him in court? It’s all acting, but great entertainment. Just like his lectures. And have you heard him laugh?” His colleague looked at his watch. “Sorry, I have a lecture. Thanks for the coffee.”
CHAPTER 16
Royal Bird was the much-awaited TV documentary.
At seven o’clock on Tuesday night, stretched out on the settee in her Orakei unit, Kate watched it – together with most of the nation and many people round the world.
The opening scene depicted wild, misty ranges with a soundtrack of the calls of bellbirds, tui, kiwi, moreporks and pigeons. During the bird song the camera zoomed in on punga fronds, huge blooms of rata, cabbage tree flowers, and fruiting branches of berry-bearing trees and shrubs – miro, karaka and puriri.
The bird song then gave way to an action song, the Song of the Huia, composed specially and sung by the staff and pupils of Queen Victoria School in Parnell. During its singing in the school hall, two of the pupils, dressed up as huia, acted the song which told how the huia disappeared then miraculously came back to life.
After that a distinguished looking white-haired man was interviewed. He was standing on the bridge over a large, swiftly flowing river, wearing a head-dress with huia feathers and leaning on a carved tokotoko. Beyond the swirling swollen waters and the log-strewn rocky shingle banks loomed the forbidding outline of a great mountain range.