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potential buyer for Southern Star. Blue Ridge Corporation, the Canadian mining and munitions operation.’
    ‘Of course. Conrad Becker’s mob.’
    ‘Becker and his chief executive, Wilfred Carlyle, are flying in late next week. They’ll spend a couple of days here, speaking with our accountants and with the receivers, and specifically going over the details of buying out our holdings in Southern Star. After that we’ll fly them up to Queensland to look over the mines and meet our key people there.’
    ‘You think this will go through?’
    ‘It has to. Everything hinges on this sale. Everything.’ The phone on Kaplan’s desk buzzed. He picked it up. ‘Yes?’
    ‘Excuse me, Mister Kaplan,’ said Jodie Lenton, his secretary, ‘I have a Ms Jennifer Parkes on the line for yourself or Roger.’
    Kaplan beamed. It was a long time since he’d spoken to Jennifer. Speaking with her would be a refreshing change on this, the worst day of his life. ‘Put her through, Jodie.’ He covered the mouthpiece momentarily. ‘Jennifer Parkes.’
    Roger nodded. ‘I thought she’d get in touch when the news came out.’
    Kaplan switched the incoming call to conference mode. Jennifer’s voice boomed out clearly over the loudspeaker. ‘Hello, Henry?’
    ‘Jennifer, always good to hear from you. It’s been too long.’
    ‘Must be close to a year. You’re never in the country these days.’
    ‘I wish I hadn’t been today,’ he said, an intended joke, only he wasn’t smiling. ‘Roger’s with me, Jennifer. I’ve got you on loudspeaker.’
    ‘Hi Roger.’
    ‘Hi, Jennifer. Thanks for calling. As you can imagine, things are a little gloomy here right now.’
    ‘I know this is lousy timing,’ Jennifer said, ‘but something has happened. I knew you’d both want to know.’
    Kaplan and his son exchanged a worried glance. They’d both noted the anxiety in Jennifer’s voice. ‘What is it?’ Kaplan asked.
    ‘They’ve found Brian.’
    Roger exchanged another glance with his father, only this time it was one of confusion. ‘When?’ he asked.
    ‘This morning. He … he died last night. A suspected hit and run.’
    ‘Hold on.’ Kaplan screwed his face up, totally perplexed. ‘You mean to tell me he’d been alive somewhere all these years?’
    ‘Apparently.’
    ‘You don’t sound convinced. Are they sure … are you sure that it’s him?’
    There was no reply.
    Roger voiced his astonishment. ‘It wasn’t like Brian to do something like that. Disappear. Tell no one.’ He muttered half to himself. ‘He just wasn’t like that.’
    ‘I suppose none of us know what anyone is really like,’ Kaplan said.
    Roger recognised this as something his father had said many times before, usually in conjunction with business matters. ‘That’s hardly the point, Dad. Jennifer, where are you calling from?’
    ‘My office.’
    ‘Stay put. We’re coming over to see you,’ said Kaplan.
    ‘No, Henry. You and Roger have enough on your plate right now.’
    ‘Blast what’s on our plate.’ Kaplan was insistent. He’d adopted his familiar and persuasive style, the one that came so naturally to him. ‘This is a hell of a shock for you. For all of us. We’ll be across town in twenty minutes or so.’ He flicked off the conference line switch.
    ‘Well, what do you make of that?’ he said, thinking aloud. ‘Eighteen years ago I spent fifty thousand dollars on two separate private detectives trying to trace Brian Parkes.’
    ‘I remember. There was no angle they didn’t follow up on.’
    ‘They came up with nothing.’ Kaplan shook his head in amazement. ‘Not a single solitary clue. Everyone, including the police, was certain he’d been killed and buried somewhere.’
    ‘Except Jennifer, Dad. She never gave up hope.’
    ‘Oh, I think she did. She knew he was gone.’ He winced. The memory of Jennifer’s despair was still painful to him, even now. ‘She’d never admit it, not even to herself, but she knew.’
    ‘But