The Kiwi Target

jolted him; he had not expected her to know that much about American business. “The Pricane Industries,” he answered.
    “Are these the people who want our property?”
    “Yes. That’s why Mr. Kincaid is here, and why he wants to pay you money.”
    Kincaid appeared to relax: he put the palms of his hands together and smiled. “Mrs. MacTavish, I resigned from Pricane to accept the presidency of Swarthmore and Stone—I told you that. I’ve wanted a new connection for some time. Now, I’ve made a completely open and generous offer just for an option on your property if you ever decide to sell. Can I be any fairer than that?” He opened his briefcase, carefully took out a check, and laid it on the coffee table.
    Anne shifted in her chair and looked toward Jenny. “You would know,” she said. “Did the police arrest Mr. Ferguson?”
    “No, Anne. They think highly of him.”
    “How would you know?” Kincaid asked.
    “I'm a policewoman,” Jenny replied.
    Peter smiled—Kincaid had certainly walked into that one. It was a good time for him to make his own move. “Mrs. MacTavish, your police here are unarmed, and they don’t have much of the sophisticated equipment we do, such as helicopters. I suspect that they’re underbudgeted, but the ones I have met are intelligent and dedicated people.”
    “Constable Pettibone,” Anne said.
    “Constable Pettibone for sure. The police know all about Pricane, and they also know something about Swarthmore and Stone.” He glanced at Kincaid, who for the first time appeared off balance.
    “Tell me,” Anne said.
    “Swarthmore and Stone has a good reputation and has had it for fifty years. Recently, against its strong opposition, another company is trying to take it over.”
    “Can they make them sell out like that?”
    “Yes,” Peter answered. “Sometimes they can. Especially a large conglomerate that has huge cash resources available.” Anne MacTavish looked at Kincaid. “It’s Pricane, isn’t it?” she said. “And you still work for them.” She picked up his check, looked at it, and then handed it back. “This property isn’t for sale—or for option.”
    Kincaid got to his feet and picked up his briefcase. “Thank you for your time,” he said. He was holding himself in tight check as he turned toward the door.
    Peter got up also. “I’ll see him off.”
    When they were both outside, Kincaid turned face to face with Peter. His voice was controlled, but there was burning, suppressed anger in it. “Exactly what’s your game?” he asked.
    “Right now,” Peter answered, “I’m with the New Zealand Department of Tourism.” Then he changed the topic abruptly. “You know damned well that with her husband dead—murdered on the property—that poor woman may not want to live here anymore.”
    “Then I’ll make her a very good offer,” Kincaid snapped back. “Now, try to get this through your skull: Whenever a deal like this comes up, large or small, Pricane always wins. Always. We have the resources and the know-how to make things happen our way. You can’t stop us, and neither can anyone else, so quit making an ass of yourself trying.”
    Peter knew that Kincaid was deliberately needling him. “You’ll go to any lengths, then, to put this deal through?”
    Kincaid looked at him with contempt. “We control a lot of politicians through our campaign contributions and lobbies, but we don’t hire hit men. So don’t try to blame MacTavish’s death on us.”
    “That’s up to the police,” Peter said.
    Kincaid’s voice hardened to a cutting edge. “We’re going to be successful here—I’m seeing to it. The New Zealand tourist business is going to be a Pricane division. And it will be a damned profitable one, the way I’m going to run it.”

CHAPTER 27

    With heightened intensity the New Zealand police kept up a continuous watch for the Australians wanted for the murder of Ned MacTavish and the attack on Constable Fred Fisher. All sailings of the ferries between the North and South Islands were covered. All crew members who had contact with the passengers were alerted; photographs of the wanted men were posted out of view of the public. All car rental agencies were covered, and all passenger flights, foreign or domestic, were thoroughly checked.
    Meanwhile, a systematic search of the whole country was undertaken. In all of the smaller communities the local constables kept a sharp eye out for any men at all whom they did not know