Free The Kiwi Target by John Ball

danger.”

CHAPTER 11

    While O'Malley went to make another phone call, Peter followed Martha back into the huge living room and once more sat down with her close by. Edmund drew up a chair to make it a closer group. “I want you to know,” he began, “that we tried very hard to find you, particularly about two years ago. We never expected that you’d turn up, literally on our doorstep.”
    “I’m only sorry that I seem to have brought some kind of trouble with me,” Peter said.
    “You didn’t bring us any trouble,” Martha reassured him. “But it is fortunate that the best lawyer on the South Island is looking after your interests.”
    They remained quiet until O’Malley came back into the room. “Peter, I called your hotel and everything is set,” he reported. “If anyone asks, you’re taking in some tourist attractions. The manager will call here if anything important comes up. Sit tight, and I’ll probably see you tomorrow.”
    “Before you go,” Peter said, “I want to ask you an important question.”
    “What is it?”
    “There’s something going on, something that concerns me, and everyone in Queenstown appears to know about it but myself. Also, you’ve told me that I’m in danger, but I haven’t the least idea why. Now that you’re my lawyer, I want to know the score.”
    There were a few seconds of tight silence. O’Malley looked at Martha, who in turn looked at her husband. It was Martha who finally took the initiative. “Peter, please tell us what you’ve noticed. It could be important.”
    “On the plane coming in to Queenstown, I mentioned my name to the man in the seat next to me, and he very definitely reacted to it. So did a girl, Jenny Holbrook, that I met at the Travelodge. In Greymouth I had a strong feeling that the police knew something they were keeping from me. They sent a sergeant to escort me back to Queenstown, as though they were afraid to let me out of their sight. I’m not paranoid; I’m not imagining these things.”
    “There’s no question of that,” O’Malley said. He glanced at his watch. “I’ll try to clear some of this up for you very shortly. If you have it with you, I’d like to borrow your passport for the rest of the day.”
    Peter reached into an inside pocket and handed it over. O’Malley took it, offered a quick handshake, and then left almost abruptly.
    Edmund stood up. “How would you like to drive around to see our town?” he asked.
    Peter knew he was being stalled, but considering the circumstances he accepted it.
    “I’d like it very much.”
    Five minutes later, he was seated in an elegant small car beside his host. By tacit agreement all other topics were dropped as Glover drove through the clean and attractive streets of the little town, pointing out the places of local interest. When he reached the lake shore and began to drive along it, he described the splendid national park that began on the other side of the water. In the fresh clear air that was tinged with spring warmth, he transmitted to Peter his love for his isolated country and his respect for its great, unspoiled natural beauty.
    Later, somewhere in the countryside, they stopped at a pub for some of the rich, dark New Zealand beer. Peter was beginning to like Edmund Glover very much; his new-found relatives were more than he had dared to hope for. Judging by their home, the Glovers had to be very well off, but Edmund didn’t give the least indication of that as he talked with the people in the pub.
    It was only a short drive back to the luxurious home where Peter found himself installed as a guest. Martha greeted him warmly and guided him into a small, beautifully furnished bar. She served three highballs at a comfortable table where the three of them could sit together.
    “Have you heard from Ray?” her husband asked.
    “Yes. He’s arranged to have Peter’s things sent over on the late afternoon plane. They’ll be delivered here.” She paused a moment and then