Pass the Baton

By David O’Connor

Dennis and Carol surf a wave of prosperity and optimism in Sydney during a stock market boom. Their son Mark is born just before the October crash of 1987 when Dennis loses his speculative paper assets and his job. Left with an unmanageable mortgage, a crippling tax bill and added responsibility, he grasps an opportunity to claw his way back up.

Dennis starts a new company in Paris, where he moves his family. When Carols art dealer friend is murdered, distraught and afraid for her life, she escapes to Sydney with their son. Alone in Paris and struggling to save his failing company, a torrid love affair blooms between Dennis and his secretary Camille, while Carol falls under the spell of an evil man in Sydney, who is cruel to Mark.

Dennis breaks with Camille and returns to Sydney in an attempt to rescue Mark and save his marriage, but conflicts with Carol spiral, ending in divorce. Broke and depressed, the fundamental compulsion to protect and provide for his son inspires him onwards to pass the baton.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Oct 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496993724

David O’Connor

David O’Connor was born in 1946. He grew up in Africa and attended Universities of Cape Town and the Royal School of Mines in London. He has been the president of several small mining companies, one of which he established in Paris to exploit Napoleon’s old lead mines. While getting involved in financings in London, he lived through stock market crashes and corporate takeovers. He now lives in Santiago, Chile where he established another mineral exploration company. He spends his time struggling against the headwinds of financial crises, while trying to ensure a good future for his children. He has a number of stories to tell and “pass the baton” is the first.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

CHALLENGES

• 1 •

Dennis Birch picked up his phone and placed the order with Keith, his stockbroker. He’d just been given a hot tip on the speculative Australian mining company. He ordered ten-thousand dollars’ worth of shares. Half an hour later, it was hard not to feel an optimistic glow as he sat on the terrace at Doyle’s Fish Restaurant on the shore at Watson’s Bay, overlooking the magnificent panorama of Sydney Harbor sparkling in the summer sun while he sipped chilled chardonnay with his friends. He rolled the wine around his tongue, savoring the sweet taste of success. The yachts were out in force, their sails billowing in the breeze, making a brilliant, colorful display as the wealthy played. He could smell the salt and ozone in the air. All being well, one of those classic beauties would be his next major purchase.

That’s another one tucked away in my portfolio, he told Keith.

Well done, mate. You won’t be sorry. Their project looks great and they’re getting ready to drill right now, so it was good to get in fast, his friend assured him.

They were celebrating their mutual good fortune. It was 1986, and the stock market was bubbling away in a riotous boom of optimism. Dennis had become a wealthy man on paper. He knew he should have researched the company for himself and not relied entirely on his broker’s advice, but they were all doing brilliantly. His broker seemed so well informed and gifted. Anyway, Dennis told himself, he had no time for research. He might miss out on the rapid gains to be made if he didn’t get in straight away as he’d been advised. The other companies he’d bought shares in had all shot up in value, so why not this one? Keith poured himself another glass of wine. He would make his commission regardless of what happened to the share price. He was not at risk.

But taking risks was what Dennis needed to do. He had recently been wiped out in a disastrous divorce and was now speculating wildly in his hurry to get back on top. He was impatient to take shortcuts along the path to financial independence. Keith had recently bought a new red Ferrari, too small inside for his golf clubs, or his ego. Swept along in the flow of success, Dennis had splashed out on a white Jaguar Sovereign. More appropriate for a family man, he reasoned. The two luxury vehicles sat side-by-side in the restaurant parking lot.

Dennis and his new, petite blond wife Carol were surfing the wave of prosperity swollen by the booming market. Their purchases didn’t stop with a new car. Shortly after getting married, caught up in the prevailing optimism, they took out as big a mortgage as Westpac Bank would permit them and bought a classic, colonial-style house in the Sydney suburb of Glebe, which they had renovated at considerable additional expense. The house was large enough to accommodate them and Carol’s two young boys from her previous marriage, with room for the other children they hoped for. The mortgage payments were steep, but they could afford them.

They accumulated fine possessions, along with credit card debts. To put icing on the gingerbread his wife had just announced that she was expecting a baby. These were their Camelot years, with fabulous parties and exciting foreign holidays. With a new house, a new car, and a new wife Dennis ran with the nouveau riche crowd, despite being wildly exposed financially. He simply adjusted to living well. His horizons were wide and anything was possible. He was happy!

The baby was due in a couple of months, so Dennis and Carol took themselves off on a holiday in Bali while Carol could still travel. She loved the Tanjung Sari Hotel on Sanur Beach, away from the crowds of younger tourists. The hotel was a converted monastery on the ocean and emanated peace, with secluded rooms dotted around a garden bursting with lush tropical growth. The scent of exotic flowers and the gentle tinkling of Balinese music filled the air. They relaxed in the calm ambiance. Late one morning while having a leisurely breakfast on the terrace next to the beach, Dennis overheard a man at the next table talking loudly to his friend.

I have just heard on the news that there is a terrible blood bath in progress on the stock exchange.

Dennis listened spellbound, with mounting concern. He had to find out more. He suddenly excused himself and got up to look for a phone. That disastrous day in October 1987 was soon to be known as Black Friday.

On that dark day the results of one disappointing drill hole too many were announced. That started a sale of shares in one of the Cinderella mining companies that had mushroomed in value from nothing. It triggered a more critical review of that company and others by wiser investors who started the sell-off of their shares. Values fell rapidly. The effect was contagious and instantly spread across the whole industry. Seasoned investors had known that they were riding a boom that must end in a crash sometime, but greed kept the buying going as they tried to squeeze out extra profit. Soon the entire stock market was in free fall and had lost twenty percent of its value over the course of the day. Dennis, like so many others, was caught completely off guard.

Dennis tried calling Keith all day, but the phones were busy. The market was closed for the weekend, but an avalanche of selling orders were placed. Everyone waiting for the opening bell on Monday with dread. Fear replaced greed.

I know the prices are down, but I want you to sell half of my portfolio as soon as you can Monday morning, Dennis instructed Keith over the weekend.

I’ll put your sell orders in, but you have to give me minimum prices that you are prepared to sell at, Keith told him.

Just sell them at the best price you can get on the day, Dennis replied.

Buyers had gone into hiding. Sellers were panicking, trying to get out at any price. Monday saw another previously unheard of twenty-percent drop. Dennis was suffering the agony of defeat as he watched helplessly while his share portfolio plummeted in value. He tried phoning his broker all day, but his line was engaged, presumably flooded with sell orders from other clients.

What have we managed to get rid of? Dennis asked Keith that evening when he finally managed to get through.

It’s been a nightmare. There are just no buyers out there. Keith sounded exhausted, beaten.

"I know, but what have I sold?" Dennis insisted.

I’m afraid we haven’t managed to sell anything yet. I’ll try again tomorrow.

Dennis put down the phone and cradled his head in his hands. A hollow feeling in his stomach and sharp headache signaled a migraine coming on. His paper fortune had evaporated overnight, and the small mining company he had been working for went bankrupt. So… no job. Not only were they living beyond their means, he had no means at all of supporting their expensive lifestyle.

His house of cards tumbled down around him a few weeks before Carol was due to have their baby. Financially ruined, Dennis drove Carol to hospital in a daze. He was numb from the shock of becoming suddenly broke and unemployed, but the imminent birth of their son diverted his despair and gave his now bleak future a silver lining. He felt an infectious optimism and peace that seemed to flood the maternity ward. Carol was in the ward for several hours with Dennis at her bedside, murmuring encouragement. Suddenly the expression on her face changed from serenity to a pinched anxiety.

I don’t feel well, darling. I’m nauseous and have a sudden strange pain in my stomach.

I’d better get the doctor, Dennis said, pressing the call button.

A nurse arrived and was told of the change in symptoms. She immediately summoned the doctor who arrived a minute later. He examined her and ordered an immediate Cesarean. Carol was wheeled out of the ward quickly and into the operating theatre, while Dennis waited anxiously. After what felt like a lifetime, the doctor returned and announced that Dennis was the father of a baby boy.

But there had been a problem. Carol’s womb had filled with blood and the baby had taken in a lungful. If they had not operated immediately he would have died. His lungs pumped out, the baby was now in an incubator where he would remain for a couple of days under observation. Dennis was relieved and concerned at the same time. He was shown into the recovery ward where a still groggy Carol lay propped up on pillows, with a drip in her arm. She gave him a wan smile. He kissed her gently on her pale lips.

Well done, honey. It’s over now. Just relax and get some rest.

How is our baby? Carol asked him anxiously.

I’ll go and see him right away. Don’t worry, he’ll be all right.

Dennis didn’t want to say anything about the baby’s condition before he had seen him, but he was very anxious. He asked to see his new son and was led into another ward and shown an incubator in which a small, pink form lay apparently sleeping. The expression on Dennis’ pallid face must have shouted his concern. He felt dizzy.

Don’t worry, he’ll be okay and out of there in a day or two. Then you can all go home, a nurse said.

The nurse was true to her word. Dennis drove Carol and their baby home to their unmanageably mortgaged house. He had hung a big banner over the front door. Welcome home, Carol and Mark. When Carol saw it, tears of happiness welled up in her eyes. She beamed her gorgeous wide smile. Her two young boys, Victor and Adam ran out to meet them and to see their baby brother, with their granny in tow.

Dennis carried his son into the bedroom prepared for him. The family’s huge Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy thrust his muzzle under his arm, bursting with curiosity and shoving the others aside. Dennis looked down into the tiny pink face of his baby son with his helpless, trusting eyes, gurgling in his arms. The baby’s life and future were literally in his hands. He felt a powerful and fearsome responsibility bearing down heavily on his shoulders now that he had lost everything. How was he going to provide for Mark, give him a good life? He was forty-one years old and his life was ticking away relentlessly. The inexorable march of time was now his enemy more than ever.

Then another crushing blow fell. At the end of the 1987 financial year Dennis was told that he would have to pay taxes on the profits he had made the previous year. When he told his accountant that he had lost all that money in the crash, the accountant replied that the tax department wouldn’t care and he would still have to pay his huge tax bill. This would certainly mean losing their beautiful house, unless something unexpected happened. Now his impossible financial worries threatened his every waking moment like a sword of Damocles hovering over his head.

• 2 •

Dennis tried without success for weeks to get work. Then one day, Roy Baxter, his former boss called. Hello, Dennis, how are you doing, mate?

I’m up shit creek without a paddle. I was wiped out in the crash. Our financial situation is serious, but I won’t bore you with details, Dennis told him. Frankly, I’m looking for work.

You are not alone my friend. Shit creek is crowded these days. How is Carol taking it?

She’s very upset, but I don’t think she realizes how bad it is.

Well, mate, I have recommended you for the position of exploration manager of the small mining company I am now running. It has an income generated by a zinc mine in the Northern Territory of Australia and so was able to survive the crash. I’ve convinced management that they should take advantage of the bloodbath the industry has become and profit from the misfortune of others. They’re looking aggressively for new, undervalued opportunities. Pop in to the office this afternoon. I’ll introduce you to the president.

Relief washed over Dennis. He thanked Roy profusely and jumped at the life preserver that had been thrown him. The job wasn’t well paid, hardly covering their living expenses, let alone their massive mortgage. Still, it was a step in the right direction.

Dennis settled into his new position and threw himself at the tasks before him with a desperation born of insecurity. He tried to block out his anxieties with hard work. He had some early success in advising where to drill for zinc at their mine and helped expand the resource considerably, making him the blue-eyed boy of management, at least for a while. How long that would last, he didn’t know.

One Friday he sat at his desk in the Sydney office, trying to finish a report he was writing. He couldn’t concentrate for his constant worry over his financial situation. He had been receiving demands for payments of various debts, and all of their credit cards were now maxed out. He had been to the bank to ask them if they would consider increasing the size of his mortgage to give him a bit of cash to ease the pain, but the manager virtually scoffed at him. He should count himself lucky the bank didn’t foreclose on his mortgage today—since it was obvious he couldn’t make the current payments. The financial noose tightened with each batch of new demands. He dreaded receiving the mail.

A silver-framed photograph of his wife and young son poked up on one corner of his desk through the growing sea of paper that threatened to submerge it. Stacks of documents were scattered on the floor. The mess in his office was a reflection of the clutter in his mind. His head hurt, and he was finding it harder and harder to focus on the words in front of him. The sound of laughter drifted in from the boardroom, signaling the end of the workweek. Dennis sighed with relief and made an attempt to sort his paperwork into logical piles so that he could have a go at completing his report on Monday. He got up and wandered off down the passage towards the happy voices and clinking glasses.

The company always had a brief meeting in the boardroom, after working hours on Friday afternoons, to review the week´s activities and discuss ongoing plans. The bar was open, as this was also supposed to be a bonding session between members of the management team to create a more cordial, relaxing atmosphere. Lubricating their discussions allowed opinions to flow more easily. Sometimes they flowed too honestly.

The chairman was an ambitious, and sometimes impatient, mining engineer who insisted that all team members take part. Roy Baxter didn´t appreciate anyone who gave lame excuses, like having to rush home to the wife and kids. As far as he was concerned his staff had the whole weekend ahead of them to take care of domestic obligations. The chairman’s marriage was falling apart because of his almost fanatical devotion to work. He was bitter about it but had little sympathy for others who failed to give the company their all and make a sacrifice as important as his.

The session was in full swing, the booze flowing freely on that hot afternoon, washing off the stress of the previous week. Big Roy walked briskly into the room, carrying a pile of reports and publications, which he dumped dramatically on the polished boardroom table. He looked intensely across at Dennis, forehead furrowing.

You speak French, don´t you, Dennis? It´s on your resume, he said, making it sound almost like an accusation.

Well, I studied French in high school and did a year of it at university. But that was a long time ago. I dare say I’m pretty rusty, Dennis replied tentatively.

Well then, Birch, you were bullshitting us when you wrote on your resume that you’re fluent, the chairman retorted.

I used to be fluent. I got an A in the university entrance exams. With a bit of practice it would come back to me, Dennis answered defensively, wondering what this had to do with anything.

The chairman gave up his pretense of being stern. He changed to a relaxed tone of voice and a smile lit up his face. Mate, we’ve been presented with a real business opportunity. I want you to review this information and tell me what you think. Most of it is in French. He pushed the pile of papers across to Dennis.

What´s it all about?

The company we sell our zinc concentrate to in Europe has a bunch of mineral exploration properties they want to get rid of so they can get out of the mining game and concentrate on smelting. The catch is that the properties are scattered all around France and Belgium. If you decide this is a good opportunity for us, we would send you over there to handle it. It would mean living in Paris and setting up a subsidiary to manage the project.

Dennis stared at the pile of documents in front of him, picturing a life in Paris—all expenses paid!. This feels promising under any circumstances, he thought. Who in their right mind would turn such an offer down? He relished the challenge and the adventure.

He picked up the top report, thankfully in English. A Review of the Zinc Potential of Mineral Properties held by Paragon in France and Belgium. The attached thick documents were all in French.

I´ll take them home this weekend, read through it all and let you know what I think.

Dennis tried to sound calm and professional, but a tide of excitement was rising within him.

Now, I want you to take this really seriously, Baxter said. If we decide to send you across to run the thing you had better become fluent in French pretty bloody quick! We would be investing a heap of money in this.

A couple of the other team members were listening quietly. Gary, the corporate lawyer was a tall, ghostly pale, bespectacled man with a constantly pursed mouth that emphasized his expression of sour disapproval. The chief accountant, Philip was overweight and ruddy complexioned as a consequence of his sedentary lifestyle and overindulgence in food and wine. The accounting and legal departments were not directly related to the exploration division, but with their hands on the purse strings they nevertheless controlled its operations. Their power could only be trumped by the board, but the exuberant personality of Roy Baxter manipulated those venerable old gentlemen. The bland expressions on the others’ faces betrayed no emotion or opinion one way or another—but they never did. They would administer the rise and fall of projects like automatons, leaving emotion and excitement to those with a more entrepreneurial spirit. Such as Roy and his new protégé Dennis.

Roy moved across to others in the main group who were having a heated, but friendly argument about metal prices and the course of the economy. Prices were high again and the company was doing well, but some of the pessimists were saying it couldn´t last. The increasing stockpiles in the London Metal Exchange were a warning that consumption was slowing, signaling the possibility of another crash to come. After a weak rally following the October crash, many were waiting for the second shoe to drop.

Well, our balance sheet looks healthy, so let’s make hay while the sun shines. I reckon we should use our cash to expand our resource base while we can. Let´s go for it. We could be a bunch of ninnies and sit on our backsides in our comfortable offices, but that´s not my style. I say we act decisively and think big. I have just handed young Dennis over there a pile of reports on the Paragon properties in Europe that are up for grabs. We should start looking around for other projects we can have a go at, Roy told his entourage.

Gary and Philip remained silent, but Dennis saw them swap cynical expressions.

Dennis moved aside from the group and gazed out of the boardroom window overlooking Sydney Harbor. His dream of owning a yacht had sunk, but watching the ferries plying back and forth to Circular Quay had a calming effect on him while he pondered the possible move to France. The wakes generated by the boats traced intricate and evolving patterns of interlocking light that bounced and reflected off the sea walls in an endless and hypnotic kaleidoscope. Gulls wheeled and flapped erratically around the kiosks along the quay, scavenging for scraps left by tourists. He could imagine their raucous cacophony as they squabbled, drowning out the babble of the crowds. It was February and a fierce summer afternoon sun glistened on the water, making him squint a little. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. If this project was to happen they would probably arrive in Paris in the spring. April in Paris. How exciting! The possibility of living in Paris was irresistible.

The chairman walked up behind him holding a glass of gin and tonic, which he held out to Dennis.

This is your poison, isn´t it? he asked.

Thanks, Roy. He accepted the drink and held it up to the evening light to watch the lines of tiny, silver bubbles rise before taking a sip.

Look, Dennis, I know these guys well, having dealt with them for years. Paragon is a big company. They can´t be bothered with smaller mines, but what they are willing to chuck out may be a real winner for us. They’d be prepared to offer us a soft deal on the properties, provided they have an agreement to buy any zinc we produce to keep feeding their smelters. That’s where the money is for them. With Paragon as partners we would have a great head start over there. Who knows where this might lead. Have a good look at the information and let´s see if it’s worth a shot.

Don´t worry, I’ll give you a serious review. I wouldn´t want to go over there and end up in charge of a bunch of dud projects doomed to failure. That wouldn´t help the company or my reputation, Dennis replied.

Do you think your wife would go for being uprooted and relocated to Paris?

Dennis knew very well that if he presented Carol with the opportunity to live in Paris, she would have her bags packed in a shot. She was an adventurous soul, hungry for life and romance. Sometimes too hungry, he thought.

It would mean taking her two older boys out of school. But I guess we could cope with that disruption and the move, if it is worthwhile in the long run.

That´s the spirit, mate. His boss clapped him on the back. Cheers! He lifted his glass.

"Santé," Dennis replied with a cheeky grin.

Gary and Philip left the boardroom early. Dennis noticed them sneak away out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t trust them and wondered what they were up to. They went into Gary´s office down the hall and closed the door. He suspected they didn’t want others to hear whatever they were about to say.

After the two had been gone for some time, Dennis walked out of the boardroom and down the passage towards the lawyer’s office. The door was still closed; he could hear muffled voices coming from within. He heard his name mentioned a few times, but couldn’t follow their conversation. Dennis hesitated then knocked on the door and tried the handle, hoping to catch a little of their conversation, but the door was locked. There was a sudden silence from inside. Then the door opened a crack revealing Gary standing there with a strange expression on his face, more ashamed than angry.

What can I do for you?

I thought perhaps we could discuss this French project that Roy just announced, in case I have to go over there, Dennis said.

Come in, Gary said, opening the door wide enough to let him pass.

Dennis entered the lawyer´s office and sat next to Philip, who was looking at him with a startled expression. Gary closed his office door and returned to sit behind his desk.

I would like both of your opinions on this new venture, Dennis said in as calm a voice as he could muster. He expected them to clam up and not say anything, but he was wrong.

First of all, we know nothing about the project, nothing about how to do business in France, but it seems to me that you aren’t experienced enough in international business to handle something this important, Gary accused.

Well, that is what I have been asked find out. Roy gave me the pile of reports to review. I can certainly handle the technical side and I gather he expects the two of you to help me with the accounting and legal side, Dennis countered.

You couldn’t even handle your own simple accounts here in Australia. Everyone knows your history. How the hell do you think you will manage in France? Philip said, his face turning red.

Dennis clenched his jaw and glared at the man. That’s not fair. You bean counters never see the big picture. You sit there poring over your books and have no idea what the projects are really about or how make a success of them. I admit that I blew out the budget on the last job, but I had to do that to keep the project going, and it turned out to be a success for the company. Dennis felt heat building up under his collar. We ended up creating wealth; the expenditure over runs became irrelevant. At least I had the guts to follow what I believed in spite of the whining from accounting.

Yes, but that was in our own backyard. This project is in France and what’s more we would have to work in French. The accountant rolled his eyes as if his complaints should be obvious. Just because you claim to speak a bit of French, and Roy likes you, he’s decided you can handle it together. Frankly he’s just as bad as you. He likes to carry on about only the bold find mines, but there’s a difference between being bold and being irresponsible. Gary was nodding his head in agreement. Just because the two of you have had some success together in the past, you put this down to skill and boldness. You’ve developed big egos because of it. Roy can’t resist telling us about the time the President said to him, ‘Lucky again, Roy,’ when he saw the drill core full of zinc.

Dennis remembered that day. Roy repeated one of Mark Twain’s better known expressions, Yes, and the harder we work the luckier we get.

Dennis slammed down his fist on the desk in frustration.

Roy is a very capable manager and willing to take a calculated gamble when he believes it can come off. I suggest you shut your mouth about his management style. It could be dangerous telling people he was just lucky, Dennis said, raising his voice.

We can’t stop the bloody project if Roy makes up his mind to go ahead, but even he reports to the board, Gary pointed out. I’m putting you on notice, Dennis. We’ll be keeping a close eye on you to make sure you don’t get the company into financial trouble. We’ll watch the accounts like hawks. If we come across anything untoward we’ll put a stop to the project one way or another. You can be sure it will be a hot item at every board meeting so that the directors will be aware if things start to go off the rails.

Roy must have heard their raised voices echoing down the corridor. Suddenly he stood at the door with his drink in his hand. What are you guys squabbling about like a lot of school kids?

We’re just discussing the proposed French project and the difficulties it could face, Gary said.

Let’s not create problems before we start. I expect us all to work as a team on this. Why don´t we all go back to the boardroom and relax? Roy suggested.

His suggestion was an order. The three of them trooped out behind him, with the lawyer and accountant dragging their heels.

Dennis couldn’t help hearing Gary’s parting shot behind him, Let’s make sure that bastard sticks to the budget this time. He knew they hoped he would fail. If they got their wish, they’d rub his face in the financial mess and personally gain by his elimination from the competition on the corporate ladder.

Dennis sat in his study at home, documents stacked on his desk, an English/French dictionary on his knee. He gazed out on the rose garden that he had established with considerable effort over many weekends, in spite of their dog’s determination to dig it all up again. They had just had the house freshly painted, and it was so comfortable sitting there with the sunlight streaming onto his desk. Between the lone fly buzzing urgently against the window and the warm sunshine, he was becoming sleepy.

His excitement over the possibility of a move to Paris was overshadowed by a pervasive sadness. He hated the thought of losing their beautiful home. Carol must be going mad with that same fear. She was making a conscious effort not to disturb him, keeping the three boys with her in the family room. But now she came in quietly with a tray of coffee and biscuits. Their huge brown Ridgeback puppy had been lying on the floor at Dennis’s feet. The dog raised himself and pricked up his ears, twitching his nose at the biscuits.

Thanks honey, Dennis murmured absent mindedly as she put the tray down on a side table. How’s it going? she asked.

Well, I’ve had a good look through the stuff and I must say there does seem to be a lot of potential.

He left it at that. He didn´t want to raise her hopes prematurely. Impi the Ridgeback pushed his face onto his lap, nuzzling for a biscuit and leaving a patch of slobber on his pants. He held one towards him. The dog gulped it down hungrily, then looked up with pleading eyes, hoping for more.

I need a break, Dennis told her. Maybe I’ll take Impi and the boys for a walk.

Perfect, she said, touching him on the arm.

He raised himself from the desk stiffly. The dog read his mind and did his impatient pre-walk dance, following on behind Dennis who went in to the family room to collect the children.

Go and get your hats, boys. Let’s go for a walk.

Carol helped them find their hats, and they rushed out of the front door enthusiastically, Impi shoving past them into the garden. They walked down to a park next to the harbor, not far from the house where the boys and their huge dog could romp freely on the extensive lawns. Little Mark held onto his father’s hand and toddled along happily beside him. If only he could somehow hold onto the simple happiness they had as a family. Come on Sparky, he said, gathering Mark up and swinging him onto his shoulders. They jogged after the others, Mark giggling and shouting over his head.

Early on Monday morning Dennis walked into the chairman’s office and handed over his report.

What´s this? Roy asked, putting down his morning cup of coffee.

My report on the European zinc projects,

Already? You´re keen! He raised his eyebrows and turned his head sideways with a knowing smile as he started flicking through the report. So you reckon that you´re off to Paris?

Well, if that´s what you decide is best for the company, Roy, I’m willing to give it my best shot, Dennis replied.

I warn you that setting up a subsidiary of our company would mean a bugger of a lot of stress and hard work dealing with French lawyers and accountants. Then there’s assembling a team to explore these properties. Roy flipped through more pages. At the same time you’ll have to handle settling your wife into Paris and the kids in school. All that domestic stuff is likely to be a real pain in the neck. I guarantee it wouldn’t be easy on you or your family.

Dennis stood waiting for his boss to finish but Roy just shifted in his chair and looked at the ceiling. I can do this, Dennis said at last. I know I can handle this and make the project a success for the company.

"All right then. Let’s consider this a go, as long as you and Carol can manage the move. Realize, Dennis, this is your chance to make your mark and get ahead. The company will give you stock options and a success fee as part of your new package. It’s up to you to make these worth something. However, if the project goes south you can be sure that there are those here who will make certain you go south with it. I’m sure you know who I mean," he concluded.

I’ll speak to Carol about it today, Dennis promised, a surge of new hope lifting his spirits.

Good, let me know as soon as you can!

Dennis couldn’t wait to tell Carol. He phoned her immediately to let her know that he would be home early. As soon as he got home he took her in his arms, lifting her off her feet.

There is a tide in the affairs of man, which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune, baby, he said.

Okay, what´s all this about, honey? Calm down and tell me about it.

Let´s go with the flow to Paris. We will have a great adventure and perhaps even make a fortune.

Can you try to explain what you are babbling on about.

I’ve been offered a job in Paris setting up an office for the company and we would have to move there as a family. How would you like to go and live in Paris? he asked grinning broadly.

She beamed up at him and squealed, I thought you’d never ask.

Let´s celebrate. I’ll go out and buy a bottle or two of champagne.

By the time Dennis returned with the champagne Carol had prepared the table for dinner. Candles cast their magical, flickering glow in the centre. She stood next to the table and lit a stick of incense that she daintily wafted around to put out the flame and let the sweet smelling smoke diffuse through the room. Carol brought magic into their lives at every opportunity, and she delighted in making dinner a charming and romantic special occasion. The myriad of little things she did endeared her to Dennis and ensnared his heart. The boys stood next to the table, smiling happily, affected by the positive feelings of love and optimism given out by their parents. Impi looked on expectantly, his nose twitching at the aromas drifting in from the kitchen. Mark sat next to Dennis, his face a picture of contentment in the mellow, flickering light.

After dinner Carol switched on the light and the three boys argued over which of them would snuff out the candles. Dennis settled the discussion with three uneven length straws which he hid in his closed palm with the tips sticking out. Each boy chose a straw and Mark got the lucky longest. Carol handed him the silver candle snuffer that Mark took with a look of serious concentration. He lowered the bell shaped end over the flames and snuffed them out in turn, a wisp of smoke snaking towards the ceiling from each candle. He didn’t quite manage to douse the flame of one of the candles, which sprang back into life, so Dennis blew it out. Carol yelled at him in alarm, but it was too late. Blowing out candles was forbidden in their house. Apparently it signified death to cosmic Carol.

During the night Dennis awoke with a mind full of conflicts. The reality of the decision to pack up home and move to Paris was dawning on him. What would they do with all their nice possessions? Should they rent out the house or just try and sell it? He wasn´t so concerned about Carol’s black cat. It had an independent spirit anyway and would wander off at will, coming back for meals and a bit of affection when it felt like it. When they left the cat would probably fade away into thin air, leaving behind a big grin. But what was to become of Impi? They all loved the dog, who was really thought of as one of the family, and that was the way he regarded himself. They could hardly take the huge animal to Paris and he couldn´t be kept in a boarding kennel indefinitely. Perhaps they would have to find a new home for him. The thought of it depressed Dennis and he couldn´t get back to sleep. He wondered if he was doing the right thing by uprooting the family, but Carol was so positive about living in Paris that she steamrolled over his uncertainties. Besides, it was their only hope of saving their beautiful home.

When Dennis arrived at work the next day he walked straight into the boss´s office. I talked it over with my wife and she is all for it, he announced.

Good show, Roy replied. Let’s get your friends the paper shuffler and bean counter in here to get the ball rolling, Roy said grinning at Dennis. He dialed the lawyer and chief accountant on the intercom. Seconds later Gary and Philip arrived in the office, and their boss waved them towards a meeting table where they all sat down, swapping icy glances.

Dennis will be going to Paris and will set up a subsidiary of the company to explore the Paragon zinc projects in Europe, he announced. I want him to get off as soon as possible so we can move quickly and take advantage of the high zinc price. What I need both of you to do is give him full legal and accounting support in setting up the company sub. Paragon will introduce him to a good lawyer and accountant over there to get him organized with all the French administrative and legal requirements and to set up reporting and accounting systems. I want the two of you to liaise this end.

Gary and Philip both looked at Dennis with even more obvious distaste than they normally displayed. The Friday evening argument was not the first time they had clashed, due to the difference between Dennis’ impatience and their pedantic attitude. Philip was always complaining about having to sort out the mess he made of expenses.

Roy, don´t you think I should go over to Paris with Dennis to set up the company for us? Gary suggested anxiously.

Oh, I wouldn´t worry about that. The Paragon people will give him all the help he needs.

But they are on the other side. We need independent counsel to give us advice specific to our needs.

Paragon is our friend. Because they buy our zinc concentrate they are as keen as we are that the project will be a success. Dennis can handle it on his own with the right help, Roy concluded.

When the other two had left the office the lawyer glared at Dennis with chill displeasure. It was clear to Dennis that the man was jealous of the position he had just landed and of his friendly relationship with the boss. Dennis knew he would have to be careful not to make any slip ups or he would end up with a dagger in his back.

• 3 •

Dennis flew to Paris where the company had booked him in to the Hotel Le Méridien in Porte Maillot, which they considered conveniently located and not outrageously expensive. It was freezing when he got off the plane, but if all went according to plan it would not be so cold when he arrived in April with Carol and the children. He was sleepy but decided to stay awake a while so that his body clock would start to adjust to the time difference and get over his jetlag.

He wandered down from his room to the ground floor, looking for human companionship and a drink or two before bed. There was a jazz band playing as Dennis went in to the bar and ordered a scotch. He signed for his drink, walked across the room to a vacant table, and sat down to enjoy the music. He could while away an hour or two pleasantly before going up to bed.

It was only a couple of minutes before he noticed two very beautiful girls sitting at a nearby table, one a blonde and the other a brunette. They had seen Dennis sitting alone and were looking across at him. They were all seductive smiles, short dresses, and long legs with fishnet stockings. They soon got up and slinked across to his table. Dennis couldn´t believe his luck. French girls definitely seemed much more friendly and approachable than Australians.

You are alone and that is sad, the brunette said in English, bending down towards him to make herself heard over the music and hum of lively conversation.

I’m alone, but not so sad, he replied.

May we sit down and keep you company? the English speaker asked, moving towards a chair.

If you like, Dennis replied, standing up to offer them places at his table.

As they wiggled their pretty little bottoms onto chairs, with ample display of shapely legs, Dennis tried to stop himself from staring.

How did you know I speak English?

We heard you order your drink at the bar and you speak French with a very English accent.

And how is it that you speak such good English? he asked.

We learned it in school in Prague.

I thought your accent was not French.

No, we are just here in Paris on holiday for a few weeks. We are staying at the Hotel Bristol.

Dennis knew of the Hotel Bristol, which was a high-class place and very expensive, definitely out of his league. He wondered how they could afford it.

My goodness, you live well. You must be rich,

"Not at all rich, but yes, we like to