Chapter 17

“Well, officer Jacobs?” Headmaster Scott said, “You started this.”

“You know I hate giving up,” Jacobs said.

“We might as well face facts,” Scott said. “They’re smarter than smart. I’ll contact the University. Tomorrow. Let them have a whole day with our prodigies.”

On the morrow, the Admissions office asked where the trio gone to school. Headmaster Scott didn’t know... “But it was somewhere in the southeast United States.”

“Oh, you want the International Office. Just a mo and I’ll ring through.”

“International Student Affairs, how may I direct your call.”

Headmaster Scott had just begun the worst day of his life.

Whereas Scott had been top dog in the local education market, he found himself on the bottom rung in matters of importance when dealing with the next tier. Headmaster Scott was bustled from pillar to post.

Rather than hearing “Yes sir,” in response to his requests he was hearing, “That’s not our department.”

He was really not used to the other end of the line suddenly gone silent and then hearing a Click and a dialtone.

Consider, International Student Affairs: “How may I direct your call?”

“I need to speak to someone about enrolling ... If you would be so kind as to allow me to finish ... Hello? Hello? Is there anyone...” Heavy sigh. Then he heard, “Admissions, How may I direct your call?”

Something in the general vicinity the noon hour he gave up and DROVE his OWN car down to the Marina and proceeded to locate the Flintkotes.

A miracle ... all three of them were aboard Sailbait. And Sailbait was not on the high seas ... no... Sailbait was the sailboat just at the end of the pier turning to port ... and heading, if not to the high seas, for an evening on the water ... there not being many decent days remaining until Spring ... and, as luck would have it ... the Marina receptionist, a young lady recently one of his student office help ... was kind enough to radio to the boat. That resulted in them waiting at the far end of the very last pier before motoring out on Limeburners Bay. He arranged parking...”Won’t be a minute,” he said. And hoofed it down the ramp and out to the very end of the last pier ... Or the First ... depending ... where Sailbait picked him up.

Rather out of breath he wasn’t able to object when they sailed away ... and out into the bay. To return him to the dock they must await the turning of the tide.

So ... the Headmaster being who and where he was ... was one of the eighty thousand Auckland boat owners ... was willing to have his discussion where he was ... aboard.

Explaining to three children produced a surprising response.

“Simple,” I said, “Lets go there.”

And they did. Cyn Flintkote took them under the harbour bridge whilst Surprise and JW Flintkote retrieved necessary paperwork from the safe and made arrangements for parking at the Museum and a taxi to the University.

“Who’s turn?” I asked.

“I had to take care of the hospital,” said Cyn

“I had to take care of the refit,” I said.

“Must be mine,” said JW and disappeared below. He reappeared with a briefcase.

Money changed hands at Hobson’s Wharf. “Shouldn’t be but a mo,” said JW ... knowing full well that this might take days. The cabbie turned right and that was the last time I knew where we were until the University.