Haut went to a bar and asked for a beer. He kept watching the long concourse in case the three men from the meeting showed up. After half an hour he began to relax. Even if they guessed he was at the airport, they would not be able to get through customs and passport control quickly enough to stop him. Haut had a call from his assistant, who was staying in a rented apartment suite with him, just as it was announced that passengers could board the plane.

‘I reached the apartment block to see three men carrying boxes down the elevator from your floor,’ the assistant informed him.

‘Shit!’

‘Your apartment is empty. They took everything. Even your leather suit that you love so much. Everything! Do you want me to call the police?’

‘No. Just be careful yourself and take the next flight you can out of Singapore.’

Haut took his seat on the plane and spent an intense three minutes praying. His thought was broken by a call from Cavalier. Haut related what had just happened.

‘They’d be Bleulance’s thugs for sure,’ Cavalier said. ‘Very adroit of you to do a runner.’

‘They took everything.’ Haut paused and chortled. ‘I prayed to God and you know what his answer was?’

‘Go on.’

‘“Now you have nothing. That is how I want you. No possessions, no worldly goods.”’

‘Al, are you saying you heard voices this time?’

‘No. Just a flash of light. A download of information.’

Keeping his tone free of scepticism, Cavalier asked, ‘Did you ask why you are required in this state of “nudity”?’

‘Yes. His reply was “Now I can give you everything.”’

As ever, Haut’s declaration, delivered with apparent sincerity, gave Cavalier pause. He took note every time Haut claimed a divine intervention. Cavalier accepted in his own mind that he should suspend belief and not query him at these moments.

Instead, he gave him advice.

‘When you return to Hobart, change your address,’ he said, ‘talk to Wombat about a disguise.’

‘Oh, sure.’

‘Also, change your identity. Cut your hair short, buy a wig and wear dark sunglasses. If a wig doesn’t work for you, dye your hair, preferably black.’

‘You serious?’

‘I am.’

‘I forgot,’ Haut said, with a trace of cynicism, ‘you are the world’s expert on this.’

‘Change your suits too. You have to lie low. Also wear those floral Hawaiian shirts.’

‘I hate them! Why?’

‘They distract people from looking at your face. It’s only a momentary thing, but it could save your life.’

28 THE BLOCK

28

THE BLOCK

Cavalier again used a long-time newspaper colleague, this time at The Guardian in London, to report on Conquer’s brutal dealings in NWA. The piece was headed: ‘Conquer to be accused of Human Rights Abuses’.

It began: