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  "Perhaps, but grandfather would expect me to deal with my own problems." She looked at him, a message in her eyes. "And Ted, this is my problem. I should have left Denver Oil as soon as mother was finished her chemotherapy. It was bad judgment on my part."

  "Yeah, it was, girl. You would have been better off somewhere else, but ain't hindsight wonderful?"

  Leslie grinned and nodded. She glanced at her watch, her stomach lurching as a feeling of apprehension settled upon her. It was time to go.

  Ted glanced at his own watch, sighed deeply, then ran his hands through his rumpled hair. He slumped in his chair for a moment, then heaved his huge muscled frame to an upright stance. "Come on, girl. I guess we may as well get this show on the road." He took Leslie's hand and tucked it through the crook of his arm in a fatherly gesture as she stood up. "You aren't going to be alone in this, Les. I want you to know that. It was my decision to include your assessment in my report, and I truly believe you did a terrific piece of detective work. It could be worth millions of dollars to this company if Luther would only use his head.''

  They walked to the row of elevators and stood watching the flashing numbers in ominous silence. She squeezed his arm as she looked up at him. "Ted, please don't say anything that will jeopardize your position with the company. It really isn't worth it...."

  Ted looked down at her, his face unreadable. "We'll see, girl. We'll see."

  They rode up to the twenty-second floor in silence. Leslie was glad, for it gave her some time to deal with the icy knot of dread that was beginning to curl and snake in the pit of her stomach. She was terrified, but she had learned a long time ago that she must not reveal her fear, especially in front of Luther. He loved to bully anyone who would cringe and tremble.

  She was jolted sharply back to reality as the elevator jarred to a halt. She glanced up apprehensively at Ted and experienced a new surge of uneasiness at the set, grim look on his face. That look was an open call to battle. Ted could be intractable in a situation like this, and above all else, Leslie did not want to see him endanger his job because of a misplaced sense of responsibility toward her.

  "Ted—"

  He ignored her beseeching eyes as he swung open the ornate door to the boardroom and propelled her inside. "I'm an old street fighter from a way back, girl, and I'll be damned if Luther is going to use you for target practice."

  "Ted, don't—"

  He patted her hand reassuringly as he seated her in one of the leather sofas at the back of the immense ostentatious room. "Stop stewing. This is going to be one battle that I wouldn't miss for the world! I'll get in a few good licks before I go down."

  It was hopeless. There was no point in arguing with him when he was in that frame of mind. In a supreme effort to blot out the tension that was building inside her, Leslie clenched her hands together and forced herself to concentrate on her surroundings.

  "Leslie."

  She looked up at Ted questioningly. He nodded toward the head of the table, and Leslie took a long, shaky breath. The board of directors were filing in through the double doors at the opposite end of the room. Zero hour.

  If Leslie had a shred of hope left, it withered and died when Luther entered the room. One look at his rigid face told her more clearly than words what was in store for her.

  Ted shook his head ruefully as he watched her small elfin face grow pale, her doe eyes become dark and wide. He took her clenched hands in his. "Don't worry, girl. We're going through this together. Luther's making a big mistake—I feel it in my bones. And we'll prove it, somehow." Leslie couldn't unclench her teeth to answer him.

  Luther cast Leslie a slicing icy glance that carried a warning. Then, as chairman of the board, he took his place at the head of the table. With a cursory nod to all those present, he brought the meeting to order.

  Leslie's head began to ache as the items on the agenda were dealt with, one after the other, with tedious thoroughness. It was taking so long.

  "The next item on the agenda is the report concerning the evaluation of the Redwillow area. As many of you know, a theory from one of our new geologists was inadvertantly published in that document. That theory has caused some concern among you, so it is my intention to discuss this issue now. Here to answer any questions is Ted McAllister, senior exploration manager, and Leslie Kairns, the geologist who drafted the report. Ted and Leslie, would you join us please?"

  Ted squeezed Leslie's hand as he helped her to her feet. She lifted her chin, her dark eyes cool and calm as she approached the table and slipped into the chair Luther indicated. Leslie couldn't suppress a small wry smile as Luther waved Ted into a chair on the opposite side of the table. Split the ranks. Divide and conquer. Yes, Luther was well versed in strategies and tactics.

  "As you know, gentlemen, we experienced little success in the Redwillow area with, I may add, sizable capital expenditures. It is my personal opinion that any further exploration in that particular area would be futile. However, some of you on the board feel that Miss Kairns's report bears some consideration. Because of that factor, I feel it is essential that we determine immediately what Denver Oil is prepared to do at Redwillow. May I point out that if you gentlemen decide that the logical action is to dispose of our lease holdings there, we could recover several million dollars by the sale of those leases. Are there any questions?"

  Leslie unclenched her hands and concentrated on relaxing her muscles. Determination grew like a flame within her. No matter what, she was going to walk out of here with her head held high. Luther might upset her, but he would never have the satisfaction of knowing it.

  "Miss Kairns?"

  Leslie lifted her head, her face composed. "Yes, Mr. Cahill?"

  "Would you please explain your theory in less technical terms? I'm afraid I'm not too well versed on the jargonese of a geologist.''

  Leslie smiled and nodded at the elderly gentleman. Mr. Cahill was the uncle of an engineer on staff with Denver, and she knew full well that the "jargonese" had been thoroughly explained to him.

  "Certainly. In the core samples extracted from the Denver Oil wells, there was a formation of rock known as a conglomerate. To describe this formation in simplistic terms, one could compare it to gravel that has been cemented together by extreme pressure."

  "What's the significance of this type of formation?''

  'This type of sample usually identifies an underground river channel. These channels may contain large pockets of oil and natural gas. However, the recovery rate is not too successful, for it is nearly impossible, even with today's technology, to map the subterranean routes of these river channels."

  Luther squinted his eyes, his manner suddenly patronizing. "Well, Miss Kairns, I feel very gratified to hear you represent your profession with such integrity. I'm sure these gentlemen understand that your report was speculative, rather than factual. Now gentlemen, I think it's clear that we must cut our losses and dispose of the Redwillow landholdings."

  Ted's eyes flashed in anger, his weathered face turning red with fury as he slammed his hand on the table. "Now just one minute. There's more to Leslie's theory than a river channel and you know it!"

  Leslie knew she was doomed anyway. There was no reason to bring Ted down with her. "I'll explain, Ted—please." She looked at him, silently imploring him not to get involved. Ted gazed back for a moment, then wearily shook his head as he slouched in his chair. "All right, Les. It's your show."

  Leslie didn't dare look at Luther. "Gentlemen, I said that type of formation is usually a river conglomerate. However, the core samples taken from Redwillow were not of a river conglomerate but rather of a beach conglomerate."

  A loud babble of excited conversation broke out around the table, and Luther had to use his gavel several times before order was restored.

  Leslie pushed on before her stepfather had a chance to intervene. "A beach conglomerate is very significant in that it identifies an old seabed—and that means an extensive underground basin. Denver Oil was explor
ing for oil, not natural gas. Consequently, no testing for natural gas was done. My research indicates the presence of a massive natural gas field."

  One of Luther's prime supporters raised his voice above the clamor, his face flushed with annoyance. "If that basin is really there, I don't see how that much gas could go undetected. Other companies have been drilling in that area for years!"

  Nervousness pressed the air from Leslie's lungs, but somehow she managed to take a deep enough breath to answer him calmly. "The reason it went undetected was because of the type of formation that exists. Although the reservoir has a high-porosity factor, there is very little permeability. That explains—"

  "It doesn't explain anything to me! Porosity and permeability...I'm a banker, not a geologist!"

  Leslie glanced at Ted, and had all she could do to smother a grin as he rolled his eyes heavenward in an exaggerated expression of disbelief. She managed to keep her face solemn as she explained. "Rock formations have tiny pores that contain hydrocarbons—like a sponge holds water. That determines porosity. If the pores in the rock are connected, allowing oil and gas to move through the formation, they are permeable. This rock reservoir is extremely porous, but it isn't permeable. Consequently the formation would have to be fractured before the hydrocarbons could be recovered."

  "And how is an underground formation fractured?"

  "A special fluid is pumped into the hole under extreme pressure. The pressure is so intense that the formation eventually cracks open. Then proppants are mixed into the fracturing fluid—proppants can be walnut shells or aluminum pellets—and these enter the cracks in the rock and 'prop' the fractures open, allowing the gas or oil to flow out when the pressure is removed."

  "And you analyzed the core samples from the four wells that Denver drilled and found evidence of natural gas?"

  "I found evidence of the beach conglomerate in three of the wells. The well that produced a low-volume find was several miles east of the basin location."

  A babble of angry, agitated voices erupted, and as the volume increased, so did Leslie's feeling of futility. She looked across the table and felt slightly reassured as Ted nodded his head in approval, a broad grin on his face.

  What little confidence she had died abruptly when she glanced at Luther. He was glaring at her, his face contorted with rage.

  It was the first time in her entire life that she had ever publicly defied him, and she realized that he had never expected her to do so now. He thought he had her under his thumb, but for once she had out-maneuvered him and made him look extremely bad in front of his board of directors. By openly challenging his authority, however, Leslie had left herself wide open to the most viperous retaliation. And Luther would retaliate, she had no doubt about that.

  The thought of withstanding yet another of her stepfather's confrontations left Leslie feeling drained and very weary. It was so hopeless; nothing would ever change. She couldn't accept Luther any more than he could overcome his aversion to her. She wanted to live her own life, to be herself without fear of his hostile censorship. And she sensed intuitively that if she was to survive as an individual, she was going to have to assume the responsibility for her own destiny without delay.

  She stared at her hands for a moment as she considered her only course of action. Her only ace in the hole was to act before Luther had an opportunity to do so. He would never expect her to do anything now.

  With a swift solid conviction that she had only one avenue open to her, Leslie slipped out of her chair and stood up.

  Luther shot an angry glance at her, his voice brittie. "Sit down, Leslie. I haven't dismissed you yet."

  She ignored him. "Gentlemen, excuse me please." All heads turned and a hollow hush fell upon the group. "I'm convinced that Denver Oil is sitting on one of the largest gas fields in Canada. I also realize that debating this issue is a futile formality. When the board puts the question of Redwillow to the vote, the decision will be to sell the landholdings." Leslie clasped her hands together so no one could see that they were trembling. "Because of this negative attitude, my only recourse is to resign from my position with Denver Oil."

  Her glance swept around the table. Ted's face registered stunned admiration and delight. Luther's, on the other hand, registered speechless wrath. She had caught him completely off guard. She managed to smile and tip her head in acknowledgement. "Good day, gentlemen."

  She never gave anyone a chance to respond or comment. With rigid control she turned and walked quickly out of the room.

  Somehow she managed to retain her facade of composure all the way back to her desk. Her resolve was further reinforced when she found Luther's secretary already there, obviously waiting for her. Without acknowledging her presence or purpose, Leslie gathered together her few personal belongings and stuffed them into her attaché case. She was well aware that Luther had dispatched Stella immediately to make certain his stepdaughter departed from Denver Oil with no company documents or files.

  "Are you to escort me out of the building, Stella?" she asked finally.

  The woman reddened and fidgeted uncomfortably as she nodded her head. "Those were my instructions." Her eyes fell away from Leslie's level stare and she cleared her throat. "You'll have to turn over your company identification card to me. Security reasons, you know," she explained unnecessarily.

  Leslie studied her for a moment, then sighed heavily as she unclipped the plasticized card from her lapel. "Yes, I know." She handed the card to Stella. "I'll have to pick up my coat on the way out."

  It wasn't until Leslie was standing outside the office building in the bright autumn sunshine that the enormity of what she had done really struck home. She shivered as she stood staring at the sidewalk, her thoughts a confused jumble. Yes, she had definitely burned her bridges and there would be no turning back. It was over. She had severed any ties that she had with Luther and with her mother. She could never go back again

  Suddenly it was as though the door to her cage had swung open. An oppressive weight that had held her immobile was gone, vanished. With a sense of freedom, Leslie turned and walked briskly down the street toward the car parkade.

  CHAPTER TWO

  LESLIE SLIPPED ON HER SUNGLASSES and waited for the lights to change. The streets of downtown Calgary were so congested that it felt like rush hour instead of midmoring.

  The traffic light changed and she swung up Fifth Street. There was a more direct route home than along Elbow Drive. but she preferred to travel the winding picturesque road, especially this time of the year. The park that nestled comfortably agains the banks of the meandering Elbow River was beginning to parade the colors of autumn. The wide-spreading branches of huge poplar trees reached for the sky as their leaves fluttered gold and yellow in the sunlight.

  There was a carpet of brilliantly colored leaves strewn across the lush green grass. A variet of shrubs scattered throughout the park had donned their autumn hues, ranging from deep magentas to bright reds to vivid oranges. The colors were so intense that they seemed to have been touched by magic.

  The parade of colors continued when Leslie turned her car off Elbow Drive and started weaving her way through the residential streets of Mount Royal. The stately old district had an air of dignified luxury that in a subdued, refined manner indicated the presence of enormous wealth. There had always been a certain aura about the exclusive area that Leslie had often jokingly referred to as the "snob-quality factor." Vivian and Luther had never found the reference amusing, but Leslie's grandfather could see the humor in it. He had been disgusted by his daughter's assuming attitude about his own vast wealth, and that of her husband. He had found his granddaughter's unaffected manner refreshing.

  A feeling of reluctance settled upon Leslie as a picture of her mother flashed through her mind. Cool elegant Vivian. Leslie sighed and eased her foot off the accelerator. She truly dreaded a confrontation with Vivian Denver.

  They had never enjoyed a very close relationship. Her mother had never been abu
sive or deliberately unkind—rather, withdrawn and disinterested. But she had always made Leslie feel guilty for reminding her of a past she preferred to forget. There had been a distance between them that was unbridgeable.

  Leslie had never been told anything about her natural father, and her illegitimacy was a strictly forbidden topic as well. On one or two occasions, Leslie had tried to ferret the information out of her Grandfather Kairns, but he, too, had refused to discuss it. It wasn't until just before he died that he told Leslie the one and only condition Luther had ever imposed upon him—that if he ever told her anything about the man who had fathered her, he would not be permitted to see his only grandchild again.

  Leslie turned into a long sweeping driveway and parked, then sat staring at the English-style manor that had been her home for most of the last twenty years. It wasn't really a home, but rather an expensively furnished showplace that was Vivian's great pride. Leslie had never been permitted to display posters of her teenage idols in her own suite of rooms, or to have stuffed animals on her bed—unless, of course, they matched the decor. Consequently she had never felt that it was really hers. Her real haven had been at grandfather's—that had been hers.

  Leslie grimaced and forced herself to get out of the car. Putting it off solved nothing. She might as well go in and have the awful scene with her mother over and done with. She would have given anything to simply avoid the issue, but there wasn't much chance of that.

  She walked unenthusiastically up the wide steps. At the door she hesitated, then sighed as she slowly dug her keys out of her bag and entered the foyer. She had an impulsive urge to dash up the stairs to her suite and lock herself in, but knew she would have to face Vivian sooner or later.