Let’s think about it, Jack told himself. He recalled his earlier encounters with Phil, and a rueful smile crept across his face. Life certainly was weird.
It was starting to dawn on him that giving it a go felt right. It was completely insane, of course, but so what? And, anyway, he could always go crawling to Ajit if things got really desperate.
A sense of seizing the moment was rising inside him. Maybe it was time to take control of his life again. It mightn’t be much, but he had to start somewhere.
He eased the cab into a short queue at a rank in Nicholson Street, and smiled at an elderly woman walking slowly along the footpath.
It’ll be the comeback of all comebacks if I pull this one off. For both of us.
Author’s note
The public–private partnership in this story was real, but my depiction of corruption and skulduggery surrounding it is entirely fictional: the real Carlton estate PPP was completely successful, and there was no hint of impropriety on the part of anyone involved. There is no property-development company called Auspart. And all my characters are entirely fictional. My descriptions of locations in and around Carlton and Brunswick are all drawn from real life, but in some instances I have taken liberties with details.
Producing a sequel to Comfort Zone has been challenging, and my sincere thanks go to Henry Rosenbloom, Anna Thwaites, and the staff at Scribe for their support and forbearance. Special thanks also to my wife Andrea Tanner, Sybil Nolan, Helen Elliott, Michelle Crawford, Donald Smith, Sarah Salierno, Fiona Kranenbroek, and Geoff Barbour for their assistance.
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