The Kiwi Target

was over. It had been a long day, and despite Jenny’s company, he was about ready to call it enough. He finished his drink and then asked, “Shall we go?”
    As they passed through the lobby, he retrieved his bags and carried them himself. With Jenny beside him he climbed the stairs, located his room, set down his bags and put the key in the lock. Then he turned to her. “How long is this likely to last?” he asked.
    “I don’t know. A day or two—or it could be longer.” She teased him a little. “I hope you don’t mind too much.”
    He was very tempted to reach for her as he had done once before, but he caught the sound of footsteps approaching down the corridor. Almost before he realized it, she had her arms around him, her lips pressed on his.
    He responded immediately, holding her close while someone passed them in the corridor. He heard the sound of a door being unlocked, then closed a moment later.
    Gently she separated herself from him. “You never know—” she began.
    “And you’re supposed to be my girlfriend,” he finished for her. “By the way, unless I get to do that at least once a day, I become savage and uncontrollable.”
    “I’ll bear that in mind.”
    When she had gone, he shut the door behind her, shucked off his clothes, washed quickly, and then fell into bed. He remembered he had forgotten to leave a wake-up call, but before he could make up his mind to get up and do it, he was already asleep.

    It was only a little after eight in the morning when he went down to the dining room. The hostess took him in charge and led him to a table where Jenny was already installed. Her food had been served, and she had begun eating.
    “Good morning,” she said. “You looked tired last night so I decided to let you sleep for a while.”
    “Thanks.” He took the seat opposite her and ordered breakfast. When his meal came, he ate almost all of it. As soon as he was finished, Jenny became businesslike. “I know my way around Rotorua, so we won’t need a guide. We have a rental car on the lot; I took it out in your name.”
    For a moment he wondered how she had managed that; then his attention was caught by a tall, well set-up man whose pleasant smile had flattered the hostess he was following. “That’s Kincaid,” Jenny said. “He came in by car last night.”
    “Jenny, you don’t let much get past you, do you?”
    She waited while the waitress refilled their coffee cups. “When I’m on the job, I do the best that I can,” she answered. “It’s expected of me.”
    Silently they finished the coffee; then she led the way outside. From two or three different directions plumes of stark white steam reached upward into the clear blue sky. “All of this area is thermal,” Jenny said. “There are fumaroles, boiling ponds, vents, hot springs, and geysers. A lot of the heat is tapped and used commercially.” She handed him a set of keys.
    At her direction he drove south down a narrow but well-maintained road. He enjoyed the drive and had no difficulty assuming his role as an interested tourist. It was more fact than fiction.
    Following Jenny’s directions, he turned off onto a large parking lot in front of a reception center. As he got out of the car, the smell of sulfur was strong in the air.
    As soon as they started down a well-prepared pathway, they encountered many forms of thermal activity. Steam hissed under pressure from encrusted holes in the ground, and boiling water heavily tinged with sulfur flowed from bubbling springs as gas vents poured out a continuous reminder of the inferno that was somewhere deep underground. It was an experience that combined sights, sounds, and a variety of odors that were foreign to all but a few spots on earth.
    “Is there any sign of all this cooling off?” Peter asked.
    Jenny shook her head. “The build-up around some of the geysers shows that they’ve been active for hundreds of years.”
    After a few more minutes she took Peter’s hand. “We’d better start back if we want to see the ten-thirty eruption,” she said.
    A short drive took them to another parking lot, where a few cars and two buses were already on hand. A wooded pathway led to a small cleared area where logs had been placed to serve as benches. They faced an area of rock hardpan, in the center of which a six-foot-high geyser cone was emitting a steady flow of rising steam. Forty or fifty people were seated on the logs. One of them was Kincaid, talking to an older