‘After what happened at my home,’ Haut said emotionally, ‘I don’t think I could ever return there.’

Cavalier put a consoling hand on Haut’s shoulder.

‘I understand, but never say never.’

They shook hands.

‘Thanks for everything,’ Haut said. ‘You’re my avenging angel.’

Cavalier smiled and said, ‘Sounds more dynamic than being a guardian angel.’ Then he added more sombrely, ‘Thanks again for saving my daughter.’

Cavalier checked the next available flight to Melbourne, which was at 10 a.m. It would give him time to have a decent breakfast and coffee in Hobart.

Haut joined the line to board the flight. Cavalier began to leave the airport, fedora pulled down and dark glasses on. He saw a car speeding into the parking area. Four men, including a red-faced Farquar, were in it. They alighted and rushed towards the entrance, side-stepping Cavalier, who was still coming out. He watched them approach the boarding gate, where they were blocked by staff. Cavalier could see much gesticulating as Farquar tried to get Haut off the plane. The staff called security.

Cavalier strode to Haut’s Roadster. It was unlocked. He got in and retrieved the gun and holster, then watched the airport lounge. Haut’s plane took off. Moments later, Farquar and his henchmen walked out of the airport. They moved briskly to their car, which was parked uncomfortably close to Cavalier and the Roadster.

Cavalier took a breath, thinking they might recognise Haut’s vehicle. Farquar was still waving his arms wildly. The men climbed into his car, distracted by his tirade. Cavalier gripped the gun and rolled out of sight in the front seats. The sedan sped past the Roadster.

Cavalier sat upright and breathed a huge sigh of relief. He decided that airport food and coffee would be a lesser but better option before he flew out.

PART FIVE PROPHET IN EXILE

PART FIVE

PROPHET IN EXILE

39 WOMBAT DE-BRIEFING

39

WOMBAT DE-BRIEFING

Haut’s accountant, Rebecca Green, stepped up to the front door of his tower home at 6 p.m. that night. It was dark and she was trembling. Haut had asked her to pick up some papers he had missed. She was also instructed to take his Bentley rifle, the Glocks and the Uzi and to leave them with Ken Pringle, who had already picked up the Roadster and taken it to his home.

Forty-year-old Green found the guns in the alcove cupboard at the top of the stairs and, wrapping them in garbage bags, placed them in her Volkswagen’s trunk. She then returned to the house and collected the papers. She heard a car pull up close to the house. She stuffed the papers in a satchel. She wondered what to do: hide, or make a run for it? Haut hadn’t told her about the killings, or Farquar’s warning he would come back. But he had told her the place could be robbed for the papers, which pertained to his inventions.