The Kiwi Target

toured an addict treatment center in Hong Kong a short while ago. It wasn’t pleasant. Many of the patients were adults and young people from the better levels of society. Drug abuse had reduced them to something less than human.
    “Peter, you gave a good analysis of the whole situation, particularly the bit about Chief Superintendent MacTavish. You missed a few things, but your thinking was sound nonetheless. Winston took some coffee.
    “Now, Ted, you assured the minister this morning that Pricane had nothing whatever to do with the Hong Kong group, peter, do you accept that?”
    “Not entirely.”
    Kincaid closed his hands into fists as anger rapidly grew within him. “Why do you doubt my word?” he demanded.
    Peter kept his cool. “Because of something you told me when we met outside the MacTavish home. You were talking about the way Pricane always wins; then suddenly you switched and said something like, ‘We control a lot of politicians, but we don’t hire hit men. Don’t blame MacTavish on us.’ It was way out of context. Then you went on telling how the tourist business here was going to be a Pricane division.”
    Kincaid eyed him with hostile sharpness. “You thought I was protesting too much, is that it?”
    “It seemed that way.”
    “Gentlemen,” Winston intervened, “my thought is this: when you made your statement this morning, Ted, you spoke the truth as far as you knew. I accept that. At the same time, knowing how Pricane operates, you held open a mental reservation, just in case.”
    Kincaid partially simmered down. “That’s true,” he admitted. “You know a Mr. Lloyd, I believe.”
    “He’s a vice president of Pricane. I report to him.”
    ‘Tell me, how recently have you been in touch with your office at home?”
    “Not for the last two days. I’ve been evaluating some property in Nelson. I know there’s a major housecleaning going on because of the investigation. What about Lloyd?”
    ”He was called to testify before a congressional investigation. He refused to answer questions and was found in contempt.”
    ”If he didn’t want to talk, he wouldn’t,” Kincaid said. “He’ll get out of it somehow.”
    ”Possibly. Meanwhile, some stockholders of Swarthmore and Stone entered a multimillion dollar suit against Pricane, charging that their proxies were solicited by improper, false, and deceptive means. They have good grounds, I understand.”
    ”That was a week ago,” Kincaid said. “I know all about it.”
    A gentle smile wreathed Winston’s features, as if he were a kindly uncle come to dinner with presents for all the kiddies “Then, Ted, did you also know that yesterday Pricane signed an agreement to cease and desist from any further attempted take over of Swarthmore and Stone in return for a dismissal of the suit? It had come at such an awkward time, you see.”
    Kincaid’s expression froze; he stared straight ahead, as though in the bright light of day he had suddenly seen an unexpected and foreboding ghost. Small beads of sweat began to break out on his forehead.
    Winston returned to his coffee and waited for his victim to speak.
    “Since you are so well informed,” Kincaid said at last, “where does that leave me?”
    “I wouldn’t look for any more property here at the moment,” Winston replied. “But Swarthmore and Stone may want you to continue as their president.”
    Kincaid spoke almost mechanically. “There’s no chance of that. Actually, I never was the president. I was promised the job, to take effect very shortly. I was to be shoved down their throats. Now Pricane will probably cut mine as fast as they can.”
    “You’re an established Pricane executive with a very good record. Surely, they’ll have another place for you.”
    Kincaid shook his head, forcing himself to face the sudden reality. “By Pricane standards, I’ve let them down. That’s fatal. I had nothing to do with those Australians, but that won’t matter.” With an effort he regained control of himself. “I gave up a damned good job to come with Pricane—they guaranteed me a vice presidency by next year. But that’s history now.”
    Peter almost felt sorry for him. “It may work out better than you expect,” he said.
    Kincaid snapped a look at him. “You know about Pricane, so you know that no excuses are ever accepted.”
    “Whenever Pricane has been in trouble,” Peter said, “there s always been a sacrificial lamb to take the fall. Who’ll it be this