The Kiwi Target

field. The acquisitions went steadily on, whether those being taken over liked it or not. The buying team would know a dozen ways around the laws. Also, it would be backed by huge resources of cash, the universal language of power and authority.
    When they drove into Rotorua, Peter discovered that it was quite a small place and visibly quiet. It, too, seemed to be two generations behind the United States, but he was beginning to like this different way of life.
    “At the police station we’ll put you in a cab—it’ll look better that way when you arrive at the hotel. The Grand Establishment is a comfortable place; you’ll enjoy it. By the way, your lady friend will be in the next room. I trust you’ll observe due discretion.”
    Peter smiled a little grimly. “If I must,” he answered. “Frankly, I’m not very familiar with policewomen.”
    “They’re well trained; many of them work undercover. They also appear in uniform and perform various police functions, including patrol.”
    As he finished speaking, he turned into an ample parking lot behind the police building. “The cab will be here directly,” Winston said. “We have an arrangement with the driver. Here he is now.”
    Peter transferred his gear to the cab and got inside. The driver started up, drove around a few blocks, and then pulled up in front of the modest-appearing Grand Establishment. Peter got out, let the driver set out his bags for him, and handed over some money.
    The lobby was comfortable and had a warm atmosphere. He could see an inviting bar down a short hall to his right, and there was an attractive restaurant opposite the reception desk. He picked up a pen and gave the clerk behind the counter his name.
    “Yes, sir, we have your reservation,” the clerk said, and handed over a key. At that moment Peter did his first piece of detective work: he noted that the clerk had not used his name, as would have been customary. Therefore he had been briefed: presumably people wouldn’t be calling him “Mr. Ferguson” all over the hotel.
    The clerk spoke again. “The lady you were expecting has already checked in. I believe she’s in the bar. Shall I hold your bags here?”
    The hint was very clear. Doing his best to appear casual, he walked into the bar and looked about. Then he stopped.
    There was only one single woman in the bar, and she was seated very close to where he was standing.
    “Hello,” Jenny Holbrook said. “Are you looking for me?”

CHAPTER 22

    Peter sat down. He looked at the young woman across from him and said, “Winston told me that I’d like the policewoman he picked for me. He was right.”
    “He didn’t tell you whom to expect?”
    “He didn’t. He’s cagey that way.”
    Jenny pursed her lips in a gentle smile. “He and Dad have been good friends for many years. They went to school together.” She changed her tone a little. “Why don’t you get yourself a drink? I’ll wait.”
    Peter went to the bar and returned with a highball in his hand. “So you’re a cop,” he said.
    “A reservist, on call when I’m needed.”
    “So you’ll be reporting on me.”
    In the background there was a steady hum of conversation. A clink of glasses could be heard, and then a short burst of hearty laughter.
    “Now you’re assuming things,” she said when she was ready. “I put in my reports only what’s of official interest; I never go beyond that. Understood?”
    Peter took a little of his drink. “I’ve been told that you’ll pose as my New Zealand girlfriend, in whom I’m very interested. Have you any ideas?”
    Jenny played with the stem of her glass. “We can work that out as we go, I think. Just pretend that you really like me, and I'll do the same toward you.” She looked at him with a heart-stopping smile, in case anyone was watching. “But that doesn’t mean that we’ll be sleeping together.”
    “I’ve been cautioned,” Peter told her.
    Jenny changed the subject. “Peter, a high-powered Pricane executive called Kincaid is booked into this hotel. Our job will be to keep an eye on him.”
    “Any suggestions?” he asked.
    “After breakfast, I think we should go sight-seeing. Anything else wouldn’t look right.”
    “If we do, how will we know what’s going on?”
    Jenny’s hand patted his very lightly. “Don’t worry about that. I also work for Mount Cook, remember? Rotorua is one of our destinations, and I have friends here and there.” Peter sensed that the conversation