The Kiwi Target

didn’t trouble him. If his errand worked out as planned, he would end up with a hole card that would be unbeatable.
    At the very top of the bluff, on a level spot that reached to the rim of the cliff, there was a small spread of well-maintained lawn and a modest cottage. Kincaid knew a lot about the resident owner and his wife; he had even managed to get a good run-down on their finances. He never willingly left anything to chance.
    He knocked on the door and waited. He had no appointment; to have made one could have been a serious mistake.
    The man who opened the door was in his prime sixties. He was of chunky build, with hands that spoke of much manual labor and features that reflected an almost fierce independence. Yet there was a certain warmth about him as he viewed the stranger on his doorstep. “Evening,” he said.
    Kincaid matched his voice and manner to the man he had come to see. “Mr. MacTavish, I’m Ted Kincaid. Could you spare me a few minutes?” There was nothing of the salesman about him; it was the way a friend would speak.
    “I don’t want to sell my property,” MacTavish said.
    “I know that,” Kincaid replied. “I’ve got something else to talk about.”
    “Then come in.”
    When he had stepped through the doorway into the small living room, Kincaid took one quick look and wished for just a second or two that he could retire to such a place. There was a good- sized window that gave a spectacular view of the water and the islands that were scattered for miles in every visible direction. Kincaid knew that the Royal Suite, located at almost the place where he was standing, would bring a minimum of a thousand a day.
    A plain but pleasant woman came in and asked Kincaid if he would like some tea. “Yes, if you’re having some,” he answered.
    She looked at her husband, who answered with a slow nod. “Sit down,” MacTavish said, “and tell me what you’re offering.’' Because there was no use in trying to “approach” MacTavish, Kincaid came right to the point. “There are some people who want to build a big hotel here. I’d just as soon that they didn’t.” MacTavish settled into a chair. “We agree on that,” he said. “How long have you been here?” Kincaid asked.
    MacTavish looked at him with a calm and steady gaze. “Now, that doesn’t really interest you, does it?”
    Kincaid knew he had made his first false step and alerted himself immediately. “I clearly understand why you don’t want to sell,” he said. “For very good reasons, I sincerely hope that you don’t.”
    “Why?”
    “For one thing, a Chinese-owned hotel could be a prime place to bring in dope.”
    In a calm, quiet way, MacTavish studied him. “And I’m to believe that you’re just a public-spirited citizen. An American by your accent, though it’s a bit strange.”
    In a flash Kincaid saw that MacTavish was much more sophisticated than he had expected. He remembered how much Portuguese he had spoken during his years in Brazil. It had tinged his voice a little.
    “Mr. MacTavish,” he said, “I’m about to become the president of an American construction company. We’re specialists in designing and building things that fit in with and support the environment.”
    He waited for a reaction, but MacTavish simply sat still and watched him.
    He tried again. “The Hong Kong people have offered to buy you out.”
    “True.”
    “But they can’t force you to sell.”
    MacTavish allowed the slightest pause. “If they could, they would. Now, make your proposition.”
    “Here it is,” Kincaid responded, “laid out flat. I’m ready, tonight, to pay you twenty-five thousand dollars, cash on the line, for an option to buy your property if you ever do decide to sell.”
    “For how long?” MacTavish said.
    Kincaid had not intended to include a time limit, but he knew immediately he would have to yield the point. “Five years,” he said.
    “If I were to sell you the option, who would set the final price?”
    “You would—within reason.”
    When MacTavish’s wife came in with the tea, he barely looked at her. “Let me understand,” he said. “You’re willing to pPay me twenty-five thousand for a five-year option only in case I decide on my own to sell.”
    “That’s right.”
    “Then what do you do, hire a rock band to play outside my window?”
    “Absolutely nothing like that. I’ll put it in writing.”
    “And if I choose just to stay here for the next five years?”
    “You