I'm a film scriptwriter in Hollywood, with a partner called Ellie who's eight months pregnant and a film director, Harry Badella, who's rude, irascible and always applying pressure on actors and writers to get the best out of them, However I am beleaguered by a quest I had put off for a long time. Some fifty years ago, I was evacuated to Cornwall during World War Two and fostered by a couple called the Laitys. They had a son, Patrick, and for years I wanted to go back to meet him but there was never a suitable time. Suddenly, I decided to take the bull by the horns and fly to England only to discover that Patrick had died many years earlier, Then, by accident, I learned that he was still alive and there were reasons why he wanted people to think that he was dead. I began to undertake some research which proved to have many ramifications. After delving deeply into Patrick's past, I became the target for three attempts on my life while dead bodies seem to accumulate around me, each one appearing to be an accidental death. I found myself in the company of many people who professed to have known my foster brother and then the situation accelerated to a higher level.
