The Meeting

The meeting with Blundell, in Mr Service’s office, was scheduled for 10.30 am the next day. So when the children left with Pierce after breakfast to play tennis at the Services’ home, Peleiupu asked Tavita how he thought they should handle the meeting.

He looked at her. ‘Are you trying to make me feel good by asking for my advice?’ She shook her head. ‘You don’t have to cajole me, Pele. I know you’re the brains in our partnership, so you’ll have to do most of the negotiating. I’m no good at it.’

‘Blundell is going to assume that, being the man in our partnership, you’re the boss.’ She smiled.

‘Are you going to play to their stereotype of you as the dumb, obedient wife who knows nothing about business?’

‘He’ll also be assuming we’re naive, gullible, easily intimidated darkies.’

‘And we should encourage that. Pele, as you well know, I don’t have the confidence or nerve to carry it through.’ For the first time in their marriage he didn’t mind pleading: there was too much at risk.

She leaned forward and, pressing her forehead against his and breathing in his breath, said, ‘I love you. All the people in Satoa and Apia have enormous admiration and respect for you. Without you we wouldn’t be where we are now.’

‘Yeah, in the shit, our lives and everything we own at stake. I’m so scared I’m getting fear-diarrhoea like Mautu used to.’ He tried to laugh.

‘I’m afraid too, but we can’t get out of this one,’ she whispered. ‘He won’t let us.’

‘So, as you’ve said in the past, we just have to prepare well?’

She nodded and kissed him. ‘Your father and Sao, my parents and Fatutapu are with us.’

For most of that day they prepared in great detail, trying to cover all the options. They called in Bart for his advice and to finalise protection for them and their children; they called in Tom to recheck some of the information about Blundell — especially on his weaknesses, and to hear Tom’s planned measures to counteract any violent moves by Blundell.

The children were tired from tennis, so straight after dinner the girls kissed them goodnight and retreated to their bedrooms. Peleiupu asked Iakopo if Naomi was all right. ‘She says she’s looking forward to going to Samoa,’ he told her. ‘We love her.’ When Tavita asked him about school, Iakopo explained he quite liked it but was finding the papalagi students disobedient and ignorant. ‘Shall I get you a drink, Papa?’

‘No, I have to think straight tomorrow,’ Tavita replied.

Iakopo headed for his bedroom, stopped and asked, ‘Uncle Arona and Aunt Areta didn’t die in an accident, eh?’ Tavita looked at Peleiupu. ‘Naomi told us they were killed.’

‘It’s best you don’t know too much about it, son,’ Tavita said finally. ‘We want you to look after Naomi and your sisters.’

‘What if something happens to you too?’ Iakopo asked.

‘Nothing will happen,’ Peleiupu insisted. ‘Mr Brant and others will make sure we’re safe.’

‘He’s so much like his grandfather,’ Tavita said as Iakopo left.

‘Which one?’

‘Mautu.’

A short while later they got into bed but couldn’t sleep. They held each other, got too hot and decided to sit on the balcony.

The slow wind from the harbour wrapped itself around them lazily, cooling them. From the dark streets below rose the dumb noise of traffic and, as they gazed up, they allowed the upward-swirling movement of the star-seeded heavens to grip their fears and whoosh them away. ‘Perhaps the bird will visit us tonight,’ she remarked.

It didn’t.

 

They were dressed and had breakfast ready when the children joined them. They tried not to appear tense but sensed, from the children’s subdued and careful behaviour, that they knew. ‘I want to say the karakia this morning,’ Naomi offered. They held hands around the table and bowed their heads. First she prayed in Maori then in English, her fervour and commitment reminding Peleiupu of the way Arona had told his story.

‘… Our Father, please protect us today. Take special care of our parents, Pele and Tavita, who continue to face threats from our enemies. Make them strong, give them the courage and determination …’ As Naomi prayed, they grew stronger in their resolve.

Shortly after breakfast, which they had forced themselves to eat, Cynthia Waters arrived to take their children to a South Auckland farm and horse-riding — Bart had arranged protection for them while they were there. The children embraced them. Tears welled in Iakopo’s eyes. ‘We’ll be all right,’ Tavita assured him.

While they waited for Bart, they checked — again —that they had all the papers they needed for the meeting, and then sat in silence trying to still their fears. ‘You look really in control,’ she complimented him. She straightened his tie and waistcoat and readjusted his watch-chain.

He brushed bits of fluff off her suit. ‘Yeah, a real businessman. And you look the really supportive, loyal, obedient businessman’s wife.’ She flicked his chin.

Not long after, they were in Bart’s car, heading down Queen Street to the impressive Service Building, nursing their fears. ‘Don’t worry about the children,’ Bart said. ‘My people will protect them with their lives.’

They stopped at the entrance. ‘Good luck,’ Bart said. Peleiupu avoided looking at him. Tavita nodded, got out and held the door open for Peleiupu, who handed him his briefcase.

They strode into the building, their shadows leading them.

Mrs Twobells, Service’s grey-haired secretary who’d looked after them on their previous visits, met them in front of Service’s office and took them down the empty corridor to the board room. She opened the door and led them in. ‘I have got morning tea ready if you’d like some.’ They accepted her offer. In the scent of gardenia that filled the room, Peleiupu caught the whiff of dampness and mould.

It was a large, oak-panelled room, with a massive kauri table and padded chairs around it. Portraits of stern-looking men — previous partners? — lined the walls.

Just as Mrs Twobells was handing them their cups of tea Service strode in, smiling, hand extended. ‘Good morning, David,’ he said, shaking Tavita’s hand. ‘Beautiful day. Reminds me of what it’ll be like on Judgement Day.’ Tavita recalled that Service was a senior Methodist deacon. ‘Mr Blundell and his team will be slightly late.’ No apology — powerful and important people didn’t need to.

‘I’m sure Mr Blundell is the busiest man in the country,’ Tavita said, smiling wryly.

While they waited, they discussed other business opportunities, with Service addressing most of his advice to Tavita. Peleiupu listened and looked attentive, smiled and nodded at the appropriate moments.

Half an hour later Mrs Twobells returned with two expensively suited middle-aged men, who bowed once and stepped aside. Through the gap between them lumbered Mr James Blundell, leaning on his intricately carved ivory walking stick. Long white hair and tidy beard, round rosy-cheeked face sprinkled with age spots, thin red lips, pale white skin that emphasised the blackness of his suit, which had been tailored to try to disguise his weight. It was the piercing blue eyes that held Tavita. His heart started racing and his breathlessness returned. He steadied a little when he felt Peleiupu’s firm grip on his arm.

‘Mr Blundell, I’d like you to meet my friends from Seemore, Mr and Mrs David Barker,’ Service said. Blundell waited. Tavita took a step forward. Blundell stretched out a hand and Tavita gripped it.

‘How do you do, young man?’ Blundell said. ‘I’ve heard good things about you and your beautiful wife and children.’ He deliberately slowed down his English. ‘You’re the first Seemoeans I’ve had the pleasure to meet.’ Tavita stepped aside. Peleiupu came forward. ‘And you, Mrs Barker, are even more beautiful than Mr Service has described you.’ She showed no fear or distaste. She smiled, eyes lowered appropriately. Turning to his companions, Blundell introduced them as the managers of the companies in which the Barkers were interested in investing. Tavita didn’t catch their names.

They took their seats at opposite sides of the table, with Service sitting with Tavita and Peleiupu. Blundell and his managers declined Mrs Twobell’s offer of morning tea. In the presence of Blundell, the usually in-command and forceful Service was subdued and ingratiating, Peleiupu observed.

‘I’ve studied your requests, Mr Barker, and I see no problems,’ Blundell began. ‘In fact, I welcome your interest in my company, which always needs new investors!’ He guffawed, tiny flecks of spittle scattering into the air. ‘But even more important, I need intelligent, savvy, up-and-coming investors like you, Mr Barker.’ He nodded towards his managers.

‘We understand, Mr Barker, you want to invest in our meat operation?’ the first manager with the round bald head asked.

‘Yes, sir, that is correct,’ Tavita replied. Then he added apologetically that he wanted to double the amount he’d asked for earlier. The manager glanced at Blundell. ‘Is that all right?’ Tavita asked.

‘I can vouch for Mr Barker,’ Service said. ‘He’s made and is still making a fortune in copra. He also owns about twenty stores in Seemore.’

‘I like that, like that!’ Blundell exclaimed. ‘Good on ya, young man. I like to see Meorees and others like that succeeding.’

‘We’re still a modest company, but, like you, sir, we want to grow and become immoderately wealthy!’ Tavita said.

‘Yeah, beautiful: grow with me, boy, and be immoderately wealthy. I like that!’ He guffawed again; this time the spittle was thicker. Tavita kept beaming; Peleiupu kept smiling. ‘So be it, Mr Barker. A very generous sum of trust in me. Anything else?’

‘We also want to invest more in your property company, sir,’ Tavita continued.

‘You don’t mind my calling you David?’ Blundell asked. Tavita shook his head. ‘Welcome aboard, David, to your company. You’re the first native shareholder I’ve allowed in.’

His second manager then took over. ‘At the moment, Mr Barker, Morric Heedstead, a very successful Australian company, handles all our business in the Pacific,’ he explained. ‘Why should we give that to you, sir?’

‘As you know, sir, we don’t want and can’t handle the whole Pacific operation. We just want Samoa, our little country. We can handle that.’

‘What can you provide that’s better than Heedstead’s?’

‘We know the country better; we’re influential there. Besides, in exchange, we want your company to handle our copra in New Zealand and Australia. That’s worth quite a bit now.’

‘Great move, son!’ Blundell exclaimed. ‘Welcome aboard again. I don’t know shit from copra but they tell me it’s good money!’ When he guffawed this time, the spittle sprayed across the table and over Service’s papers. They pretended not to notice. ‘David, you’ve thought of everything, and I love and admire that!’

‘Anything else, Mr Barker?’ asked the second manager, with the ill-fitting plate of false teeth.

‘Perhaps you can suggest other ways we can benefit from our new relationship, sir?’ Tavita ventured.

The managers glanced at Blundell, who laughed and said, ‘Good move again, son. We’re a very large and varied company. We’ve got our sexy fingers in just about every juicy business orifice in this voluptuous country, and Aussie. You’re welcome to put your delicate fingers in some of those!’ He started guffawing again, coughed and, thumping his massive chest loudly, stopped.

‘Thank you for the offer, sir,’ Tavita said in the voice he’d used whenever he’d wanted a favour from his father.

‘We can discuss those orifices later, David,’ Blundell said. ‘Meanwhile, Mr Service, who I’m sure you’re paying extra well, and my overpaid jokers will go away and draw up the appropriate papers to clinch our new relationship.’

Service and the managers got up and left.

‘Don’t know about you, Mrs Barker, but whenever I finalise a lucrative deal, I get unusually thirsty and hungry!’ He guffawed again but averted his face from Peleiupu’s direction.

‘I’ll get you a cup of tea and some cakes, sir,’ she offered. As she moved to the tea tray she could feel Blundell’s gaze exploring her body, but she kept smiling.

After she served them tea she deliberately sat beside Blundell and opposite Tavita. She served Blundell biscuits and cake. He obviously liked being fussed over, so she even put sugar in his tea and stirred it.

It came unexpectedly; they’d planned for it but hadn’t expected it then. ‘By the way, Mrs Barker, how successful have you been in tracing your brother?’ Blundell asked, his voice heavy with concern as he dunked his biscuit in his tea.

Lowering her gaze, her stance emanating sadness, she said, ‘We have found him.’

‘That’s wonderful, Mrs Barker.’

‘He died with his wife in a motor accident near Kaikohe.’ She emphasised each word. Tavita caught a look of suspicion in Blundell’s eyes.

‘I’m sorry, so sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to be nosy.’

Peleiupu bowed her head, hands clutched to her face. ‘That’s all right, Mr Blundell.’

Tavita took over. ‘Arona didn’t exactly lead an honest, sin-free, Christian life. No, sir! The police said he and his wife had been drinking a lot.’ Then, gazing directly at Blundell, he said, ‘But of course you knew about Arona’s accident, sir.’

An amazed blink, then the haughty, arrogant blue eyes were upon him. ‘How do I know about it?’

Control yourself, no anger. ‘You had them killed, sir, and we know you know we know.’

Chuckling softly, Blundell said, ‘Why would I want your brother dead?’

‘Because he was an old business acquaintance who knew too much about your past, sir.’

‘He also wanted to settle scores. Against me!’ They could hear his heavy, menacing breathing. ‘Why are you buying into my business?’ he demanded, cold suddenly.

‘Because it is a profitable investment,’ Tavita replied. ‘Your companies rate in the top ten in Australasia, sir.’ He paused and then, smiling, he said, ‘And as part of our insurance policy.’

‘Meaning what, boy? I don’t like clever half-castes!’ That dug in painfully but Tavita didn’t show it.

‘We’re now at your mercy. You know that, sir. We’re in your city, where we’re unfamiliar with the rules; our children are in your boarding schools …’

‘We warned you, David. We told you not to keep looking for Arona.’ His voice had softened again, his gaze was less menacing. ‘You’re very perceptive, son, but your wayward brother wasn’t. He tried to fight me in my own patch. Foolish, very foolish.’ He sighed. ‘David, what guarantee do I have you won’t turn against me like your brother-in-law did?’

Trying to sound ingratiating, Tavita replied, ‘We are leaving our children in your schools as your hostages, as a guarantee that we’ll always be your obedient business partners, sir.’

‘My brother lied because of the nature of the business and life he’d chosen, sir,’ Peleiupu helped. ‘His life couldn’t have ended any other way. As devout, God-fearing Christians, like you, Mr Blundell, we condemn the sinful, vengeful criminal life that he led.’

‘You don’t love him enough to seek vengeance, in an Old Testament sense, Mrs Barker?’ Blundell asked, carefully.

‘We didn’t see Arona for thirty years, sir. We met him recently and we were shocked because he was not only a total stranger but a violent, unrepentant criminal. He’d trampled on the whole Christian traditions of our family. My parents would’ve rejected him as their son. We reject him too.’

‘Besides, what’s vengeance got to do with doing business and making money, sir?’ Tavita asked.

‘Shit, son, I like that. I like that!’

‘As my husband has told you, sir, we’re just a simple Samoan family who’re at your mercy because of our brother and not through any fault of our own.’ She bowed her head and wept silently into her handkerchief. Tavita reached over and held her arm.

‘Your brother, Mrs Barker, was a beautiful and very bright young man when I first met him.’ Blundell sounded sad. ‘Yeah, as quick as the flash of a white shark’s hungry teeth. Bloody quick. Great brain, quick learner. I taught him a hell of a lot.’ He smiled. ‘Introduced him to the pleasures of the world and to his own enormous appetites and hungers and abilities.’ He laughed softly. ‘I did love him, treated him like a younger brother. Yeah, and he returned that with his growing knowledge of business, which came in useful in expanding our business. But he was too trusting. Underneath that brain, that cunning criminal inclination and ability, he was still the honest pastor’s son. Yeah, he trusted me. Or should I say, the pastor’s son trusted the crude and violent, devious Mullheath I was then.’ He continued laughing. ‘He built our business, modernised it. You could say, he became a large shareholder in my business. You could also say he still is a shareholder, because he’s never withdrawn his investment. And you’re only adding to that.’ Were those tears in Blundell’s eyes? Tavita wondered.

‘Mr and Mrs Barker, I’m very pleased that you’re being realistic and sensible. This is business, strictly business. Your brother ended up mixing business with a suicidal desire to destroy me.’ Tavita tried to look grateful as Blundell reached over and clutched his shoulder. ‘Son, you and your beautiful family are not going to regret investing your money and loyalty in me. You’ll receive huge dividends in money, patronage and protection.’ He reached down and grasped Peleiupu’s hand. ‘You and your children are safe with me. You have my word on that, Mrs Barker. You are family.’

Still holding her hand, Blundell struggled to his feet. ‘Getting too old and fat,’ he sighed. He bent down and kissed Peleiupu’s hand; his lips and breath were warm on her skin. ‘You’re very beautiful, like Arona was beautiful.’ Peleiupu lowered her eyes. ‘David, you and I are going to go a long way together.’ Tavita tried not to wince as Blundell’s heavy grip tightened around his hand.

They watched him picking up his walking stick. ‘I don’t have to stay for the signing of our agreements, David,’ he said. ‘I’m bloody glad I came today to meet you.’ He turned, stopped and, gazing back at Peleiupu over his shoulder, said, ‘I did love Arona.’ He rolled the name over his tongue lovingly. ‘I did.’

Almost an hour later, as they left the board room and started hurrying down the corridor, Peleiupu began shaking. Tavita put his arm around her and gathered her to his side. She put an arm around his hips. They steadied each other as they fled.

‘Arrogant bastard!’ he snapped as they broke out of the building into the hot summer light.

‘Who the hell does he think he is?’

‘God — a white god who thinks he can stomp on us black ants.’

Bart opened the car door. They slid into the back seat and Bart drove off quickly. She reached up and kissed the side of Tavita’s face. ‘You were good, bloody good!’ she whispered in Samoan.

‘So were you, darling,’ he replied, caressing the inside of her thigh.

‘How did it go?’ Bart intruded.

‘Well, I think,’ Tavita replied. Peleiupu helped him take off his sweat-drenched coat. ‘I was so afraid I sweated through my every pore!’

‘He’s a frightening man,’ Bart said.

‘But I think we did quite well.’

‘How much time do you think we’ve bought?’ Bart asked.

‘I don’t know,’ she said.

‘I don’t think he’ll break his word,’ said Tavita. ‘Not yet, anyway. After all, he’s got our kids and a large hunk of our money.’

‘That’s a hell of a lot of trust!’ Bart said.

‘Perhaps too much,’ Peleiupu said.

‘I think he actually liked us. I almost felt sorry for him,’ Tavita said. ‘So sorry for him I wanted to kill him.’

‘Especially when he called you a clever half-caste?’ she said.

‘Yeah, especially for that!’

She remained silent the rest of the way, caressing his hands. How she loved and admired him! He’d conquered his fears and had performed superbly. And now that she’d decided on their next move, she felt at peace with herself and God. Tavita need never know. Blundell at their meeting had decided his own fate, without being aware of it.

 

On Saturday afternoon she rang Bart to come and take her and the children back to their schools. The children objected and complained, but she promised to let them return on Thursday, the day before they left for Samoa.

When they reached the girls’ school Naomi asked to spend until dinner time with Maualuga and Lefatu. Peleiupu agreed readily; they’d pick her up at seven that evening.

As they drove back Bart described the day as one of those Auckland summer days in which the sky stretched up to the gods in a clear fathomless blue, and the crisp heat was a gentle touch all over your skin — all you wanted to do was lie on the beach and sleep and dream of a world without winter or rancour or …

In the time she’d known him, she’d sensed that under the businesslike, fearless male front, Bart possessed a gentle, poetic way of viewing things and people. She avoided observing him as he drove. Yes, she was attracted to him; she’d admitted that to herself the week before when he’d advised them on how to handle Blundell and revealed a genuine concern for her safety. That admission made her feel awkward whenever he was near. He wasn’t the first man she’d felt that way about, but none had ever become serious; she’d always managed to suppress it before it had reached that stage. But with Bart, the more she tried to rid herself of if, the more it persisted.

‘There’s a proposal Tom and I would like to make to you, Bart,’ she heard herself saying. She felt him looking at her. ‘Could we stop somewhere and talk?’

They parked at the end of a no-exit street beside a small park that sloped down to the beach only fifty paces away. He asked if she wanted to sit on the bench or the sea wall. She shook her head and tried to steady herself by gazing into the shimmering noonday light reflecting on the sea’s surface.

‘So what is this offer?’ Bart asked.

‘You’re not helping us just because of what we pay you, eh?’ she asked.

‘At first, yes: you’re the best-paying clients I’ve ever had.’ He paused and then, looking at her, added, ‘But I’ve become part of your fight.’

‘Fight?’

‘To find Arona, then his killing, and now your struggle to stay alive against Blundell.’

‘But it’s not your fight.’

‘It is. As I’ve worked for you, I’ve realised it’s my fight too. He is the brutality, greed, arrogance and cynicism of power. And I don’t like seeing unequal contests: the underdog getting clobbered by obese and arrogant blokes! Everything was stacked against you very naive, very innocent, very dumb noble savages. But look where you are now.’

‘Yeah, in the shit, so David said today. In the shit and at Blundell’s mercy.’

‘You’ve changed the odds a little, though, haven’t you?’

‘Thanks to you and others. We’ll always remember that.’ She brushed back her hair. Yachts with white sails were racing from east to west across the harbour. A black dog ambled across the beach, tongue hanging out, pulling a frail-looking man bundled up in a shabby overcoat past the changing-sheds.

‘So here’s the offer, Bart,’ she said. ‘I’ve tried and am still trying to love the man Arona became. If not love him, feel some empathy for him. It’s bloody difficult. He must’ve been quite monstrous — without conscience. Like Blundell. But he was aiga, blood, family, and I love Naomi. I also promised our parents I’d find him and bring him home. Well, I’ve found him, and with Blundell’s permission I’ll be able to take him home.’ His profile glowed in the white light of the car window. ‘Being the brilliant sleuth that you are, you know that Arona was involved in a lot of criminal activities. Apart from the trust set up for Naomi and our aiga, he left behind other lucrative but illegal sources of income. I’m starting to talk like Blundell! Tom wants those to continue but I don’t want to be involved in them.’

‘What do you mean?’

She fought the compelling temptation she felt to take the control on offer. ‘I don’t want to. I can’t, anyway, because I’ll be in Samoa.’

‘So?’

‘Tom knows this. And he says he’s a good lieutenant but he needs someone else to replace Arona.’

‘You don’t want to do that?’

‘I’m tempted, I may as well admit that.’

‘It’s dangerous, dirty, risky. You’re a mother and respected businesswoman. And I guess you don’t need the wealth because you’re making enough of that legally.’

‘You’re not tempted?’ she changed tactics.

Smiling, he kept gazing at her. ‘Of course I’m tempted — by the power and the money and the risk …’ He started laughing. ‘Tom and I have talked about it while we’ve been working together to help you.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘I’ll still have a share in it, though!’ Her breath checked in her throat as she watched his long-fingered hand move to caress the back of her own. She welcomed the sharp, tingling that his touch sent through her.

‘No, it can’t be, Bart,’ she heard her frightened voice declaring. ‘I have a husband, children, aiga.’ What a stupid thing to say, she realised.

‘And at the moment we need to deal with a deadly threat to all that, eh?’ he said, withdrawing his hand and looking away.

‘Yes. That’s more important than anything else.’

‘So the possibility of us … us …’

‘I think we should go back now.’

He started the car and backed out onto the road.

She hugged her corner in silence, too afraid to look at him, too afraid of her true feelings.

Just before she got out of the car in front of the hotel she said, ‘Tom will be very pleased with your decision.’ She paused and then added, ‘So am I, Bart. Thank you.’

 

On Sunday morning she kept the curtains closed and dressed quietly so as not to wake Tavita. She scribbled a note saying she was off to church and left it on his bedside table.

It was as if a soft transparent yellow tide of light had surged in from the harbour and flooded the empty streets up to the tops of the tallest buildings. She whistled in her head as she thought about her parents, and danced through the streets.

As arranged, Tom was waiting in his car at the bottom of Albert Park. She got in and they drove off to the safe-house where she’d been before. They sat on the back veranda, sipping lemonade. Curious, she asked, ‘Haven’t you ever touched alcohol?’

‘Nope!’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Never liked the taste of it.’ She’d expected a complex reason and was surprised at the simplicity, the innocence of his answer.

As she briefed him about their meeting with Blundell, he listened intently, nodding his head.

‘What do you think?’ she asked at the end.

He sucked in air and said, ‘The bugger, the creepy bugger, actually likes you and David!’

‘Nonsense! He was only pretending.’

‘No, he does; he feels he owes you because, despite everything else, he did love your handsome brother. And because you’ve thrown yourselves at his mercy. He also admires talent, savvy, hard work and guts. And you and David have all those …’

‘Thank you!’

‘… Besides, there are too many of you to get rid of without attracting attention.’

‘And he doesn’t yet know how much dirt we have on him, or where we keep the evidence.’

‘You’re learning fast, Pele.’

‘Will he let us go home next week?’

‘Why not? He can still get to you in Samoa. He can buy jokers there to do the job. Every two-legged creature has a price.’ Soft chuckling.

His remark offended her and made her feel vulnerable. ‘I’ve talked to Bart and he wants to join you.’

‘Great. He’s strong and straight. But does he have the stomach for the other side of it? I have to train him: he’s spent too many years as a cop with a conscience.’

‘I’ve told him, and I’m telling you: I want a share of the business.’

‘Jesus, Pele, you’re starting to talk like Arona! See, I told you: once you get a taste for it, it’s like an aphrodisiac — better than sex!’

Annoyed and unsettled by the frankness and truth of his perceptions, she changed the subject. ‘Have you found out who carried out the killing?’

He nodded. ‘Easy, Pele. There aren’t many pros of that calibre and price in God’s Own Country.’

She waited but he wasn’t telling. ‘Well, who was it?’

‘You don’t want to know, Pele.’

‘Why not?’

‘You’re slow on this one. You don’t need to know. It’ll get you into more hot water with Blundell.’ She felt stupid; she was so naive. ‘What do you want done with them?’ he asked. ‘You’re the boss, Pele.’

‘What do you advise?’

‘Do nothing. Let Blundell take care of his own. There’s talk around — and I’ll make sure Blundell hears it — that the two of them are talking too much. I’m sure they’ll disappear shortly.’

‘When is Blundell going to move against us? You’re the pro, Tom. What do you think?’

‘I don’t know when, Pele, but he will, he has to. You know too much.’

Fear was again surging through her. ‘So what do we do? Just sit around and wait?’ When she glanced at him, he was gazing straight into her heart. It was chilling. ‘What?’

 ‘You know the answer, boss. I only carry out orders.’

Even though she’d decided Blundell’s fate during the meeting, she hesitated, knowing, with an enormous but exhilarating fear, that this was the decision that would either stop her at the border between good and evil and return her to God’s magnificent and forgiving grace, or take her over that border into power-without-conscience, and without God, for the rest of her life.

She leapt. Into the way of Fatutapu and the frigate.

When she told Tom what she wanted done, she did so calmly, with a salving serenity permeating her every cell — the same serenity she’d experienced when she’d decided, as a child, to help end her baby brother’s suffering from the Satoan Disease.

 

After two hectic days of shopping and packing and finalising their business affairs and dealing with matters to do with their children, and preparing Naomi for their trip to Samoa, they were exhausted and stressed and ready for a long afternoon sleep before a farewell dinner. Someone rapped briskly on their suite door. Tavita swore as he dragged himself up.

It was Blundell’s second manager: bespectacled, smiling, holding two parcels with red ribbons around them. Behind him was a young woman carrying two large bouquets of flowers. Tavita shook the man’s hand and invited them in. Peleiupu hurried from the bedroom.

‘These are from Mr and Mrs Blundell, sir,’ the manager said. Tavita smiled as he accepted the parcels. The woman gave the flowers to Peleiupu. They both thanked them. ‘He also asked me to give you this.’ He gave Tavita a letter in a blue envelope edged with gold. Tavita invited them to stay for a drink but the manager apologised — they had to be at another function. He bowed and shook Tavita’s hand. ‘Mr and Mrs Blundell wish you a very enjoyable and safe trip home,’ he said. ‘Personally, I’m very pleased that you’re now an important part of our company. You’re one of a few non-family people he’s allowed into our organisation.’

‘Please thank Mr and Mrs Blundell for these beautiful gifts,’ Peleiupu said.

As soon as Tavita had shut the door behind their unexpected visitors, Peleiupu started cutting the ribbons and opening the parcels. He held up the letter. ‘Open it!’ she urged.

He slit it open with his forefinger and read it out loud.

Dear Mr and Mrs Barker,

We wish you a safe trip to Samoa with Naomi, Arona’s beautiful daughter. If there is anything we can do for your children or to improve our business dealings, please let me know.

I am extremely grateful that you have invested in my company and family.

We all loved Arona, but he is now in our past. Let us keep him there, and begin anew.

God bless you.

Yours sincerely,

Jack Blundell

The smaller of the two parcels contained an old, wooden, much-used chess set, which had been cleaned and restored with great care. In the box was this handwritten note:

This was Arona’s first chess set. I bought it for him and used it to teach him how to play better. A few months later he was beating me consistently. It now belongs to you and Naomi.

In the larger parcel was a beautifully finished rimu box with a greenstone kiwi inside. Tavita whistled as Peleiupu lifted it out. The bird had diamond-studded talons and beak, and red sapphire eyes. Peleiupu stood it on the coffee table, where it sparkled in the afternoon light. ‘Bloody expensive!’ Tavita exclaimed.

Peleiupu ran her fingers over the bird. ‘Kiwis can’t fly,’ she joked.

‘No, and they’re not as cunning as your frigate!’

‘Nor as ruthless.’

They stood back and looked at the letter and gifts. ‘What do you think?’ Tavita asked.

‘Cunning old bugger’s weakening.’

‘Getting sentimental in his fat, rich, old age?’

‘And he’s sure we’re too afraid to cross him.’

They slept easily, heavily, that afternoon.

 

Their ship was to leave in two hours, and visitors were being called ashore. Naomi had withdrawn into a sorrowful silence, wedged in between a protective Lefatu and Maualuga on the sofa in their cabin. Iakopo sat on the sofa arm, sipping a lemonade. Tavita, Bart and Pierce were drinking and talking at the other end of the cabin. The reality of farewell had closed in.

‘You know what they call Lefatu at school, Mum?’ Maualuga asked. Lefatu pinched her but didn’t stop her. ‘Because they can’t pronounce her name, they call her Heart.’

‘Do you mind that?’ Peleiupu asked Lefatu.

‘I mind but I can’t stop it, so I have to live with it. The teachers too are starting to call me that.’

‘I’ll write to the headmistress,’ Peleiupu said.

‘No, Mum!’ Lefatu objected. ‘I can take care of it.’

‘They call me Catch — you know, Maua, meaning caught?’ Maualuga laughed. ‘Good name and they know I can catch any of them.’

‘Do they have a palagi name for you?’ Peleiupu asked Iakopo.

‘Jake — short for Jacob,’ he replied. ‘I don’t mind; it’s not worth worrying about.’

It was her fault her children were now caught in the deadly struggle with Blundell — she’d been the one who’d wanted to give them a papalagi education. Her fault too that they were being subjected to this hurtful racism.

The men came up and stood around them. ‘Did Uncle Tom say goodbye to you?’ Peleiupu asked Naomi, who nodded.

‘I saw him yesterday,’ she said. ‘He gave me this.’ She held up her left hand. A silver bracelet. ‘Got my name on it. He had it made for me.’ She started crying. The girls hugged her. ‘Uncle Tom said I’ll be all right in Samoa.’

‘What does he do?’ Iakopo asked. Peleiupu glanced at Naomi, who appeared too preoccupied with crying to have heard him.

‘Bart can tell you,’ she said.

‘Your Uncle Tom runs a security business,’ Bart offered. ‘He provides people to protect your property or business.’

‘And he and Bart have decided to merge their companies,’ Peleiupu said.

‘That’s great news!’ Tavita said. ‘They’re going to be difficult to beat.’

‘I think we should leave the ship now,’ Bart advised. Tavita stood his daughters up. Peleiupu held Naomi’s shoulders and helped her to her feet.

‘We’ll come out to the deck and wave goodbye to you,’ Tavita told his daughters. ‘Stop crying,’ he added in Samoan. ‘It’s not far to go now before you come home for Christmas.’ At the cabin door he stopped everyone. ‘Now,’ he said to his children, ‘you have to look after one another. You, Iakopo, must look after your sisters. If you need help, you get in touch with Mr Brant or Mr Service. Understand? Trust no one else.’ They nodded through their tears.

‘What about Uncle Tom?’ Naomi prompted.

‘Yes, trust Uncle Tom too,’ Peleiupu replied.

‘Now go down to the wharf with Mr Brant,’ Tavita instructed them.

Peleiupu insisted on accompanying the children and the two men down the gangway onto the crowded wharf. The sun was sinking swiftly over the gulf and sending a thickening darkness, like a steady wave, over the harbour, wharves, the city. Tavita and Naomi stood at the deck railing, watching them. They saw Peleiupu and her children hugging as a group, then she broke away and started backing onto the gangway. They saw Bart hurrying to her; they saw her hesitate, then she kissed him on the cheek. Tavita’s belly clutched momentarily. Jealousy? Suspicion? And he thought he heard Bart calling, ‘Don’t worry, it will be done properly.’

 

On their second morning out of Auckland, their ship caught in the still, humid heat of the tropics, Naomi woke them up and got them to follow her into the sitting room. There, on the side-table in front of the urns, was a chocolate cake with one white candle burning in the middle. The urns shimmered in the candlelight. ‘It’s Dad’s birthday today,’ she told them. ‘I got the chef to make this.’

‘I’m sorry we forgot,’ Peleiupu said, hugging her. ‘He was away for so long …’

‘He said Samoans don’t celebrate birthdays but Mum and me always insisted on a chocolate cake — his favourite — and one candle,’ Naomi explained.

‘Naomi, I’m glad you remembered.’ Tavita kissed her on the cheek.

‘May I say a karakia?’ Naomi asked. Tavita nodded. They bowed their heads, their reflections swimming on the casings of the urns. ‘Te Atua, as you know this is Dad’s birthday. I know he was not a righteous man, that he did things that were sinful and evil, but when he met Mum he tried, he really tried, to follow Your ways …’

That evening, while they were dressed in their best clothes and enjoying the special birthday dinner that Peleiupu had arranged with the dining room, their waiter brought them a telegram for Naomi. She read it aloud to them:

MY BELOVED NAOMI STOP BART AND I AND SOME OF YOUR DAD’S MATES HAD A BIG PARTY TODAY TO CELEBRATE YOUR DAD’S BIRTHDAY STOP WE MISSED YOU VERY MUCH BUT KNOW YOU ARE SAFE WITH YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE STOP SOMEDAY SOON WE’LL MEET AGAIN STOP TELL YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE THAT WE DID EVERYTHING ACCORDING TO YOUR DAD’S PLAN FOR HIS BIRTHDAY STOP HE WOULD’VE BEEN PROUD OF US STOP IT WORKED LIKE A CHARM STOP BART SAYS JAKE HEART AND CATCH ARE FINE AND SEND THEIR LOVE STOP SEE YA SOON STOP TOM

‘What was Dad’s plan for his birthday?’ Naomi asked.

‘For Tom and some of his friends to go out to their favourite pub and celebrate,’ Peleiupu lied.

Tavita glanced at Peleiupu. She was pale, trembling visibly; her face shining — with relief? Happiness? But why tears? She reached over and grasped Naomi’s hand.