Free The Spanish Helmet by Greg Scowen Page B

nearby, Matt tried to remove the GPS from the window. They looked harmless enough, but this was Warren’s car. Better safe than sorry and all that. His efforts were fruitless. All Matt succeeded in doing was putting a big scratch on the device’s metal frame, beside the power button.
Sorry Warren, I was trying to help. He left the GPS where it was, stepped out of the car and carefully locked it.
Matt walked by a large Disappearing-Cannon, submerged in a concrete bunker beside the car-park. Red and white concrete mushrooms filled the small field behind it. They looked like an odd art installation, but Matt realised these could be the air vents of an underground bunker. It was the first time he had considered the preparations New Zealand must have made for threats like the Russians in the late 19th century, or the world wars in the last one. Amazing, the distances that war travels. It creates divides and crosses them too. He walked further across the hillside, passing by a harbour signal station, and eventually came to the edge of the volcano. He sat down on the roof of a concrete gunning bunker. As he gazed out at Rangitoto, the island that Warren had told him about, he compared the dormant volcano to the dormant relationship he had with his father. Who knew when either could spring back to life? His pocket started to vibrate and ring.
Matt jumped a little, the ringing phone having rudely interrupted his daydreams, and pulled the vibrating monster from his pocket. A quick glance at the screen told him that it wasn’t Warren or Julia. Is that Aimee’s number? It was someone in New Zealand. He could tell from the +64 that showed up on the display. He answered hesitantly.
‘Matthew Cameron.’
‘Hi Matt.’ There was a brief pause as if she was waiting for him to guess. ‘It’s Aimee.’
‘Oh… hi Aimee.’ Matt sat up and brushed the sand off his pants.
‘I thought I should give you a call to make sure you don’t forget me when you’re famous,’ Aimee said, laughing.
‘Pardon?’
‘You seem to be a bit of the talk in the town right now.’
‘What? I am? How so?’
‘Well, the kind of people who are interested in proving that the Celts were here before the Maori are definitely talking about you. It seems like word has got out that you and your friend have found some sort of Celtic site that has been taken over by the DCI. The conspiracists are running wild.’
‘I hope we aren’t causing any trouble.’
‘Not at all. I think everyone’s enjoying the situation. The conspiracists for obvious reasons. And the DCI are, of course, always interested in any advancement we can make to New Zealand history.’
Matt smiled. He didn’t really believe the DCI were interested in advancements at all anymore. Only cover-ups. ‘We?’ Matt asked.
‘We, you know, New Zealand.’
‘Ah right, of course, but I don’t know how much of an impact our finding these two coins will make,’ Matt said, attempting to plant Warren’s story firmly with Aimee.
‘Is it only two coins?’ she asked, sounding a little disappointed. ‘With all the work in the rumour-mill, I thought it might be more than that. Perhaps I could help out. I’d love to get away from my study, it’s so boring always doing the same thing. If you like, I could look into your find for you. Anything I can do to help is good with me.’
Matt though about her offer for a minute. On the one hand, he was slightly unsure of why she was so eager to help. Warren telling him to trust no one played over in his head. Until now, he had only discussed the true nature of his trip with Julia. On the other hand, Aimee seemed like a nice girl and Matt wanted the opportunity to get to know her better. Besides, her input and unbiased opinion would be a welcome addition. ‘Tell you what,’ he said, ‘why don’t we meet up on Saturday? You could show me about a bit and then I’ll buy you lunch to say thanks.’
‘Sounds great to me.’
Matthew made arrangements to meet Aimee