The Other Side of Sorrow by Peter Corris

morning for a conference with representatives of Millennium Security I could expect extremely unpleasant legal proceedings. Assault was mentioned, along with trespass and damage to property. I couldn’t afford to get involved in anything like that so I agreed.
    The office was in Macquarie Street in a section of the city that wasn’t being torn down. I wore a suit. Mr Hargreaves wore a suit. So did Mr Hargreaves’s female secretary and Smith from Millennium. The other person present wore the Millennium Security guard uniform. He wasn’t the one who’d fallen in the puddle. This guy was bigger and well-balanced, looked harder to trip.
    â€˜Mr Hardy,’ Smith said. ‘I think you remember me. This is Mr Kamenka. Thank you for coming. A few minutes of your time could save a lot of wasted time for all of us.’
    â€˜Time is money,’ I said.
    â€˜Indeed it is.’ Hargreaves gestured for us all to sit down.
    Smith opened the slimline leather satchel he was carrying and extracted a manilla folder which he placed on the solicitor’s teak desk.
    â€˜This is a complete rundown of all the steps that have been taken to protect the Homebush Bay environment,’ he said. ‘It includes details of detoxification, the rehabilitation of wetlands, the restitution of original watercourses, the isolation of noxious wastes, the retention of existing trees and the re-planting of appropriate species, the installation of solar-powered heating and lighting systems and …’
    â€˜Fascinating reading I’m sure,’ I interrupted. ‘But what’s it got to do with me?’
    â€˜Yesterday you made an enquiry at the site, following which you assaulted a member of our staff and later appeared to make common cause with the picketers at Tadpole Creek.’
    I looked at Kamenka. ‘It wasn’t much of an assault. More of a nudge.’
    â€˜Certainly actionable if we chose to make it so.’
    â€˜Ah, a threat.’
    â€˜No. Just a piece of information to go along with this.’ He tapped the folder. ‘Read it, Mr Hardy. I don’t know what ratbag organisation you’re working for, but frustrating the work at the site is ill-advised and pointless.’
    â€˜You call that whole thing the site, do you? Isn’t it a whole lot of sites?’
    Smith was struggling to keep his patience. ‘We’re trying to treat you decently. Don’t make it any harder.’
    â€˜What puzzles me is why you’re so worried and why you’re taking this trouble. I don’t give a stuff about Tadpole Creek. I don’t care about the Olympics either, although if you could give me some tickets to the boxing I might be interested. Can Mr Kamenka speak, by the way? Or does he just do isometrics inside his uniform?’
    Smith sighed and Hargreaves looked exasperated. I didn’t blame him. I was exasperated too. The secretary entered with coffee and we all watched her pour it.
    I sipped the coffee. Too strong, bitter.
    Smith’s manners were his strong point. He backed down a little, talked about some of the hassles he had with security and implied that he was under some pressure to keep the lid on all difficult situations. His politeness seemed genuine and made me feel better about him. I decided to give a little.
    â€˜I’m working on a missing persons case. That’s all I can tell you and more than I need to tell you. There’s nothing more to it than that.’
    â€˜I’d like to believe you.’
    I put the undrunk coffee on the desk. ‘You can.’
    â€˜If that’s the case I might have a proposition for you.’
    â€˜I enter into contracts with clients, Mr Smith. Just like you. I don’t deal in propositions.’
    Smith considered this carefully before nodding. ‘I see. Well, just let me lay this out for you and get your reaction.’
    Pointedly, I checked my watch.
    â€˜This won’t take