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best vascular surgeons in Adelaide, Rupert McKnee.
    Christian punched in the code 911E for the last time and opened the door to the ward. Sally, whom he thought was the most attractive nurse on the ward, looked up and smiled at him from the nurses’ station as he walked in. Sally was a second-year nurse with an infectious amount of enthusiasm and a blonde ponytail, which she loved to twirl as she talked to you. He had been tempted to ask her out several times. Nevertheless, despite her obvious interest in him and her attractiveness, there was something missing which he could not quite define. He knew he needed to work out the Isabella legacy in his life; otherwise, he might never find someone to share his life with.
    “Late night I hear,” Sally said, twirling her ponytail as Christian approached.
    “Yes, it was and all a bit dramatic in the end.”
    “We have moved Mr Kauffman into a private room. I have to warn you that there are four of his gang in there refusing to leave.”
    “Probably ensuring that one of the rival Bandito’s gang doesn't come back to finish off. How come we have no police up here?”
    “No one is saying anything; you know what it's like with gangs, if no one says anything, then charges can't be laid.”
    Christian pulled the small table out from the side of the ward and retrieved Kauffman’s notes from the pigeonhole above. He read quickly through Sally's notes; there had been no change in Kauffman’s condition overnight, which was gratifying to see. He could report to Bolt that everything was stable and that would be his last action on the ward.
    “Do you want me to change his dressings?” Sally interrupted his thoughts.
    “No, you can leave that for forty-eight hours,” said Christian remembering Bolt’s handiwork and that any gratitude that might be coming, should be Bolt’s alone. As he closed the folder his mind turned to the discussion he had had with his mother about where he was going to spend the next year.

Chapter 2
     
     
     
     
     
    “So Dr. de Villiers, now that you have done two years as a trainee surgeon, you are going to leave Adelaide and explore the world. Four more weeks to go, have you finalised all the possible destinations yet?” Renata enquired, standing in the doorway of Christian’s study.
    Christian turned from the computer screen to see his mother standing in the doorway smiling. She had her hair pulled back into a tight bun with a nine-carat gold hair clip holding it tightly in place, her fine Flemish features freshly burnished with a cream that he remembered cost almost as much as his monthly iPhone plan. Most of his friends could not believe that she was forty-six years of age, as she looked so much younger. Perhaps there was something special about the Retinoic acid in the cream she used, a fact she would often refer to with no little hubris, whenever he teased her about the cost of the moisturising cream.
    Christian looked at his mother, a beautiful picture framed by the doorway and wondered how much different her life could have been, had his father survived and not been murdered. There was a persistent sadness surrounding his mother, which he could not explain other than in some way it related to his father's death. Her sadness detracted from a natural beauty; her almond-shaped blue grey eyes were never really smiling. He wished on many occasion he could find the key to alleviate her personal darkness.
    Once all the details of his father's involvement with the Bureau of State Security in South Africa had been revealed, he thought she might find greater peace. Christian knew that he was relieved to discover that his father's involvement with the apartheid government had not been entirely corrupt. His father had been more a victim of his own pride and ego, than an active supporter of the regime that brutally enforced racial segregation. In the end his father had seen the immorality of the government and tried to rectify some of his mistakes. For