Haut sipped his drink and then said, ‘I thought at one stage he was coming on to her. I’d come out of the water after a long swim and they were on the beach, sitting close and in discussion.’

‘Food for thought, Your Grace.’ Cavalier clinked glasses with Haut and said, ‘I can say this frankly, as one Aussie to another, you are an inventive uber-genius, regardless of your spiritual affiliations, but you are also bloody naïve!’ He paused, smiled again at the African-American woman, and added, ‘This naivety is, in its own way, endearing.’

*

They chatted with the women at the bar. Two hours later, when they were leaving the bar, Haut dropped his voice and said, ‘Been thinking.’

‘A dangerous thing in this superficial world of tweets and twits, Your Grace.’

‘The evening Mon had her stroke,’ Haut said as Cavalier hailed a cab, ‘we had a little dinner party in my villa. There was me, Mon, Gram and a girl he’d picked up, named Ning. Ning did the cooking. Gram looked shocked that the bigger meal meant for me ended up with Mon.’

‘Now you are really cogitating,’ Cavalier said. ‘Suppose Gram added something to your intended meal, something like a coagulant that would kill a sixty-year-old.’

A cab pulled up at the kerb.

‘Yeah, something that a fit young person might survive, with a stroke.’

‘Exactly, Your Grace.’

Cavalier got into the cab next to Haut and said, ‘I’m escorting you right into the Roosevelt lobby. Even with the cavalry on the way, you need serious security right now.’

61 POISON PACKAGE

61

POISON PACKAGE

Shelley Northam, carrying a package, bustled in through the revolving door of the Roosevelt. She was met by several pairs of eyes as she placed a package on the reception desk.

‘This is for Mr Al Haut,’ she said.

The female receptionist pushed a form in front of her, which Shelley had to sign. She looked around to see two suited men wearing dark glasses standing behind her. One had a hand in an inside jacket pocket. The other had both hands in front of his genitals as if in a human wall defending a soccer goal.

‘Do you have ID?’ the receptionist asked, pleasantly enough.

Shelley, both nervous and irritated, took a driver’s licence from her handbag. She leant forward on the counter.

‘You know this man Haut is insane?’ she said to the receptionist.

The receptionist did not meet her eyes or respond.

‘He … he’s a drug addict,’ Shelley added. ‘A dangerous drug addict …’

The receptionist made a note of her ID.

‘Did you hear me?’ Shelley asked. ‘He is a crazy drug addict, and … dangerous. Yes, dangerous!’

‘Thank you,’ the receptionist said, losing eye contact. She placed the package on the floor below the counter. Shelley hesitated. Then she turned on her heels and walked out of the hotel.

*

The two men took the package to Haut in his third-floor apartment.