Read The Number 8 Online

Authors: Joel Arcanjo

Tags: #Fiction, #Thrillers, #Crime, #Urban, #Suspense, #Espionage, #General

The Number 8 (19 page)

BOOK: The Number 8
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“There’s one, not sure about the other one right now.”

“Ah, don’t be harsh with Annie. It wasn’t mouth to mouth or anything.”

“I didn’t mean Annie, I meant…” But when Dante saw Asmir’s face, it was clear, Asmir knew what he was talking about. He was just toying with him.

They continued to discuss what had happened and Asmir continued to make jokes about Annie. Dante had decided to buy the story but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t confirm it with Annie when they got to their next stop. They were traveling to the Capital of New Zealand, Wellington. It had it all, arts, culture, great nightlife and the very famous Te Papa museum. They weren’t there long but he intended to make it count.

Wellington turned out to be a great city. But, because of the late start and Mel’s disappearance they ended up missing out on everything but the Te Papa museum which turned out to be a hit with the passengers, many of whom had voiced a disdain for museums in general.

The real issue, however, was that the new guide still hadn’t arrived by the next morning. That morning they were scheduled to leave the North Island to travel south to Nelson on the Inter-Islander Ferry. A few of the passengers had made a pact to jump on the ferry even if the guide didn’t arrive. Dante and Asmir were two of them. Their plan was to head to Nelson where they would spend an extra day if necessary, rather than waiting around for a new guide in Wellington. The reason for this was that around Nelson there were incredible beaches and the famous Abel Tasman National Park that they were excited to explore. Plus, Nelson was billed as the sunniest city in New Zealand which would be welcome relief to the constant barrage of rain that had not stopped since they had arrived in Wellington.

After a long discussion, the small group that was gathering followers all the time, boarded the ferry. They didn’t want to wait around in the rain for someone who may not even show up. Ben was completely against the idea but said that he had no intention of leaving the group. He remained on dry land with a small group of people who were intent on following the rules, while the rest of the bus walked up the shaky plank and onto the ferry.

It was five minutes before departure and the group were settled in their seats. They had found an area big enough to house them all comfortably. They were talking and playing games. Someone had brought along a mini version of Scrabble and there were a few packs of cards floating around. It was a relaxed atmosphere. That was until Ben was finally spotted with the rest of the group and what looked to be the new instructor.

He was about thirty-five years old and plump. His face was red and he was breathing heavily, his beady eyes falling on each person, like he was counting them. A scarf was covering the lower part of his face and he was wearing what looked to be a newsboy hat, covering what Dante was sure to be a balding head.

“Right, everyone,” he said in a thick Kiwi accent. “My name’s Ryan and I’m your new tour guide. I’m sorry I’m late. I was…” The last part of his speech was muffled by his scarf.

Realizing this, he shifted it downwards, under his chin, so that he could speak clearly.

“First thing, guys, you should not have got onboard without me. I may be a boring bugger, but I’m the best you lot have got for now.”

He got the reaction he was hoping for. He had loosened them up a bit.

The rest of his speech was what the company had planned for the passengers for the next few days. Dante knew this already, so he continued to play with the cards in his hands. He could do a couple of sleight of hand tricks and this was as good a moment as any to practice them. But Dante was drawn back to Ryan’s speech again pretty quickly. He wasn’t just listing off what they had in store, he was telling amusing stories about each location and why he loved it so much. He was clearly charismatic. He used his body to full effect and even had Asmir taking notes. He was self-deprecating and sarcastic, two things that British comedy was founded on, so most were hypnotized by him. Dante, who was usually immune to this kind of charm, found himself fond of this rotund man with his strange style. It was clear that Ryan was not like Mel. He had been doing this for years. He was well versed in the lingo and he had tall tales from every location. Either he was a skilled veteran or one of the greatest performers Dante had ever seen.

After his performance, he went around learning everyone’s name and charming them further. For the full three hours of the journey, he made a point of spending almost exactly ten minutes with each set of people. Dante observed him from time to time. Listening intently when required but always being the dominant in the conversation. He was an exceptionally ordinary, even ugly man, but Dante was sure that he did well with the ladies. He was a talented conversationalist and performer.

Their arrival at Picton on the South Island was greeted with a loud whoop. This frightened a few of the elderly passengers who pointed and whispered about them until they were well clear of the dock.

The group was buzzing with excitement which was only exacerbated by the realization that they had a brand new, freshly painted bus to greet them on the other side. Usually, there was a change of driver at this point, but Ben lived in Queenstown so he had volunteered to keep going until then.

They piled on and, as expected, they resumed their regular positions. Dante and Asmir were once again at the back.

Nelson’s reputation of being the sunniest city in New Zealand was quickly debunked by bus number 8. They arrived to much the same of what they had left in Wellington. The weather had obviously drifted down from the capital to mock them.

Ryan informed them that, while in previous years the tour had stopped for the evening in Nelson, this was the first year that that had changed. They were spending the night at a resort on the coast called Kaiteriteri which was the gateway to the Abel Tasman National Park and situated on a picturesque pearly white sand beach. Ryan revealed that they would be stopping in Nelson, to climb to the geographical center point of New Zealand. But what he hadn’t mentioned was that it was a long hike on an incline of about thirty-five degrees.

But it did not disappoint. From the summit the view was breathtaking, even with the rain. Arguably it made the view even more special. The sun was trying to push its way through the clouds, which lit up the shimmering haze of rain that was sweeping its way over Nelson. It was almost a 360-degree view from the summit and Dante could see that towards Kaiteriteri there were golden streaks of sunlight. It was clear that the weather was moving in that direction. Asmir was more concerned with keeping his camera dry and trying to get some action shots of the rain. Annie and Becki were cowering under the largest tree scowling. Carl, Dick and Marco were wandering about aimlessly. James had already started his descent, his hooded sweatshirt soaked through. Camilla was talking to Ryan who was once again flitting from one group to another, holding court.

It was another half hour before they were all back on the bus. Dante was just about the only person who wasn’t completely soaked. He had decided to bring along an umbrella. Something that a few of the passengers had made fun of him for, but he had had the last laugh. Even those who had waterproof jackets were sitting in their seats shaking with cold. Dante on the other hand was in his warm corner at the back of the bus and had relegated Asmir to the other corner. Asmir was fiddling with the waterproof casing on his camera and trying to get comfortable despite wet trousers and socks.

It was another short ride to Kaiteriteri. Just over one hour later they had reached the resort and their accommodation was mere meters away from the beach. As they threw their bags off the bus, a few of them gazed out at the glistening ocean, vowing to go swimming once the rain clouds had dissipated.

They didn’t have long to wait. Ten minutes after Dante and Asmir had put down their suitcases and changed into something dry, the clouds parted and the sun beckoned them out onto the beach. None of them had brought any beach games, but the hotel had that covered. So Dante and Asmir borrowed a football and beach tennis and headed out. The others followed, some carrying cricket stumps, tennis balls, frisbees and Becki had even managed to procure a fully functional kite from the receptionist.

It was getting on in the afternoon by this point and while there wasn’t much wind, the temperature was dropping all the time. Only a few of them were brave enough to go for a swim. Out of their group, it was only Dante. Asmir, Becki and Annie were all still too traumatized from the previous evening to even contemplate it. They had decided to paddle, but even that seemed too much for them. Instead Asmir joined the small football game that was developing and the two girls played beach tennis.

Once in the water and he had gotten over the temperature, Dante began to enjoy himself. The brave ones in the water decided to play a game with a small ball that skimmed the surface. Catching it was tricky as the waves were fairly large and getting bigger by the second, but it helped distract him from the reaction his body was having to the water. Their swim didn't last long as a wayward throw from one of the guys, attempting to show off, meant they lost the ball. The current was too strong to swim after it and, with nothing to play with, they quickly got bored.

The rest of the evening passed as many of the others had, with alcohol, jokes and good conversation. At one point they had moved from their hostel back to the beach. Wearing jumpers and jackets and with marshmallows in hand, they made a fire and all sat around and roasted them over the roaring fire. It was the first evening that there were no arguments or bickering. Not even Dick and Asmir were at each other’s throats, mainly because they were on completely opposite sides of the fire and could barely see one another. Carl had even brought his ukulele out and proceeded to sing them a few classics.

The next morning they were up early and heading into the Abel Tasman National Park and then on to the iconic Nelson Lakes. This was a famous spot to stop for the bus. One of the lakes, a particularly large and picturesque one, was the site of their famous “lake jump”. During the summer, this was a pleasure, but now, it seemed no one was particularly keen to leap into the frigid waters, not even for an iconic photograph. But, reluctantly, they stripped off and made their way along the small wooden pier and jumped off. Some, like Asmir did this fast, sprinting along the pier and minimizing the time he had to spend in the cold. Some did this slower, like Dick, who penguin-shuffled to the edge of the pier and mumbled to himself before throwing himself in. Asmir, who was mostly in charge of taking photographs, played a little prank on him and made him jump in a second time after purposely messing up the first photo. Dick wasn’t happy and chased him barefoot across the white-pebbled shoreline of the lake. Neither won that battle and both came back with bruised and bloodied feet. But, it was a success. The pictures turned out well and before long they were dry, fed and back on the bus heading for their evening destination of Westport.

For days, there had been nothing suspicious to document and no indication that anyone had a hidden agenda. It was like Viktor’s death had been years ago and all the negative energy and trauma associated with it had dissipated to leave a relaxed group of people ready to enjoy the rest of their holidays. But Dante knew what he had seen in those caves and, unless Viktor’s death was a one-off, there would be another. While he was enjoying this trip more than he had ever thought possible, he hadn’t forgotten that he had a duty get to the bottom of this. For Viktor.

Chapter 36

It was late when they arrived in Westport. The sun had set and everyone was tired. A few of them went out to explore the town, but Dante and Asmir stayed in the hostel, made some pasta and spent the evening with a few of the others planning their outfits for the famous party the next day. Their next stop was a place known as Lake Mahinapua. But this time, it was the place they were staying that was the main attraction. It was called the Poo Pub and it was run by the oldest pub landlord in New Zealand. But the party that they held most nights was the reason that their group was so excited. It was themed and Ryan was taking them to a local town to get their outfits.

“Tarzan, definitely Tarzan,” Asmir said, his mind made up.

“No offense, Asmir, but I don’t think you have the body for Tarzan,” Becki said, awkwardly.

“Saying ‘no offense’ doesn’t take away the offensive nature of what you just said,” Asmir replied, a little taken aback.

Silence.

Asmir took this as an invitation to keep talking.

“And I’ll have you know that beneath this T-shirt and cardigan is the body of a Greek God,” he said proudly puffing out his chest.

“Which one? Athena?” Dante joked.

The group laughed and used the pause to take another mouthful of the pasta that Annie had made for them all.

“Firstly, I take that as a compliment. Athena is the Goddess of War, so I bet she is absolutely ripped. Secondly, what is this sauce? It’s magical.”

Annie looked at him like he had just walked out of a lunatic asylum.

“It’s tomato pasta sauce, from the store. Wait…was that an attempt at changing the subject?” Annie asked, almost smiling.

Asmir ignored this completely.

“Becki. What you thinking of going as?” he asked.

“Well, seeing as all the other girls are gonna go as things that require very few clothes, I’m gonna do the opposite and try and find an outfit that covers me completely. You know, as a protest.”

“Can’t you let someone else protest?” Asmir asked hopefully.

“I was thinking of a female version of the Joker from Batman. What you think?” Becki asked the group.

“Sounds awesome,” Dante said.

“Never seen a female version, do it,” Annie urged.

Even Marco chimed in, having been silent most of the evening.

“Great idea,” he agreed.

Asmir was looking around him in disbelief.

“Are you all drunk? Where is she going to find a Joker costume around here? There are three shops in that town and two of them only sell food.”

BOOK: The Number 8
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