At last he could see the dim outline of the whole headland, and the bay, probably the site of the granite quarry, the wharf and the deep-water anchorage.
There was something else there. A large shape at the end of the wharf. A large yacht or small ship? Yes, it could be! Yet there were no lights on either the ship or the wharf. He listened. A low hum came to him across the water.
There’s some work going on there. Was it like cranes loading? He listened more carefully. Was there another sound? It could be the clicking that wagons make as they move over railway lines The granite mining operation? But why at night? And without lights?
Another sound close at hand, less welcome this time. A powerful hull cutting the water, a smooth, low motor. Now a strong searchlight was moving over the surface of the water, sweeping fast and wide.
The Marine Reserve patrol boat – definitely unfriendly. Well, we’ll show them a thing or two.
If in his work-orientated life David had any spare time, he would go swimming. Ever since those holidays on the East Coast when he had been taught by the Maori how to hold his breath for a long time when diving for kai moana, he had enjoyed being in the water. Senior swimming champion at Grammar, he had since taken part in the harbour and Rangitoto swims.
Down he dived. When he surfaced, it was only to catch breath and to assess the direction of the pursuit. Several times he watched as the jet boat sped towards him, submerged in the nick of time and looked up at the light flashing over the water. Finally, the launch appeared to veer away and head back towards the quarry bay.
Slowly David swam towards the dark silhouette of the land where the road ran. Now lights had appeared, car lights on the coast road, torch lights on the beach and along the coastline as far as he could see.
So they are still searching, and if what I’ve seen so far is a guide, they’ll be pretty thorough. Better stay where I am.
He wondered how long he could last before the cold got to him. The search went on and on. He wished he had his wet suit that he used on the Rangitoto swim. The jeans were difficult to swim in. He felt the cold seeping into his legs, his arms and his chest, and struggled to keep moving. At last with relief he saw the lights thinning out, then disappearing, and the car lights on the coast road heading back towards the headland of Pataratara.
When David finally pulled himself out on the rocks, he was exhausted. Dawn was just sketching the saw-tooth outline of the Raukumaras. He had been nearly two hours in the water. Thank heavens it was midsummer!
He clambered over the rocks and up the bank towards his car, grateful that he still had his sneakers on. He was tired, hungry, not thinking clearly. The car was unlocked. How careless of me! He didn’t even check whether anything had been stolen. All he could think of was getting as much space as possible between himself and Pataratara in the shortest possible time. He pulled the key from his sodden jeans pocket, slipped it into the ignition, started the car, reversed it sharply so that it skidded on the grass, and took off at speed, heading westward towards Opotiki.
After he had passed the gates of Pataratara, he listened to the singing of the engine and the humming of the wheels on the seal.
He began to whistle.
On the other side of Pataratara there was a long ascent to get over a very high, steep bluff. He remembered this bluff when he was driving in and the sheer drop to the sea on the upward ascent. He accelerated quickly and soon reached the top of the bluff. Now there was only sea before him, and the steep, narrow road ahead wound around precipices dropping off to the rocks and the water hundreds of metres below.
Just take it easy, David.
He started the descent cautiously with his foot lightly on the brake. After a few yards he felt that the car was moving faster than was comfortable on that hill. He pressed down harder on the brake, but it went sickeningly loose and hit the floor. He pulled furiously at the hand brake but the handle just went loose in his hand. He swung the gear lever into low, but heard only an ominous graunching, tearing sound.
Now the trees began to race past and he saw the sea in front of him and the cliff edge where the road swung away at the first bend. He swerved at the very last moment outside the seal at the bend, as the tyres screeched and the metal rose in a white cloud. He struggled desperately to control the flying car on the next stretch. He knew that there was nothing he could do at that speed on the next bend.
He found himself looking at the sea – how peaceful it looked! Helplessly he watched the second bend coming up. The trees were now a green blur. For some reason he unfastened his seat belt, rested his hand on the door handle and dreamily thought of himself swimming in all that blue. As he made a last desperate attempt to swerve, he was thrown against the side of the car, the driver’s door burst open and the momentum shot him out.
Blue, green and black seemed to be whirling around him. At one stage he saw a comet of red hurtling past him.
Then something struck him with a heavy blow, and he knew no more.
CHAPTER 22
Sir Charles Hawthorne sat in the police station at Opotiki late on Friday morning. His eyes were moist and his handkerchief was in his hand.
Sergeant Herewini of the Opotiki police felt almost as if he were dealing with next of kin. “Sir Charles, we are very grateful that you have driven down from Auckland, especially to help us in our enquiries. Your staff have also been very helpful. We are still looking for the body. It seems to have been thrown out of the car. He must have forgotten to put his seat belt on. It may be hard to identify as the cliff was high and it would have landed on the rocks. Besides, the tide could have taken it anywhere.”
“My staff will be available for the search as long as you require them.”
“I’m sorry, sir, to ask this, as I understand that you were a friend of the owner of the car, Dr Corbishley from the University. Do you have any idea of the background of this incident?”
A tear glistened on the cherubic cheek. “Thank you, Sergeant. It is as you realise most distressing for me. He was a young man whom I was trying to help. On Monday he came to me for assistance in locating a lost colleague. I made several calls to Australia as a result and provided him with a fare there in order to follow up a likely sighting at Broken Hill. The flight was due to leave tonight. Now I find that he disregarded my assistance, drove down to the Bay of Plenty and last night broke into my property.”
“Any motive for his action, sir?”
“During the interview on Monday he questioned me quite closely about the Waitoa sanctuary of which I am a guardian. Apparently his colleague may have visited there before it became a sanctuary and he had formed the opinion that his colleague had made a valuable mineral discovery. A few days ago he asked me for some geological information about my property which he apparently did not accept. He had obviously decided to make his own investigations.”
“May I ask about this geological information?”
“It related to an idea in his head that there was an underground passage from the Waitoa to my property.”
“Why was he interested in this?”
“I believed at first that he was genuinely interested in tracing his colleague and therefore gave him all the help I could. Now I am afraid that his main desire was not to find his colleague but to find a way to enter the sanctuary illegally in order to exploit his colleague’s possible discovery. I formed this conclusion after he visited me the next day with further questions. He had in the meantime broken into his colleague’s confidential records and found a letter which referred to the discovery. He had also been trying to extract information from the Whanau Apanui.”