‘He is a serious nutter,’ Conquer’s British head of marketing—balding, super-fit forty-year-old Neil Joslin—said. ‘He believes that God is his oil-diviner.’

The Conquer executives all shook their heads and smiled in derisive agreement over Haut and his beliefs. Bleulance remained expressionless. His forehead pitched forward and his chin joined his neck. His face clouded.

‘You are telling me that one minor miner from the outback of Australia stands in the way?’

‘Baron, we have tried everything,’ de Cobb said. ‘The appropriate Tasmanian politicians and bureaucrats have been given inducement, as has the Minister for Mines. Haut’s equipment has met unfortunate breakdowns. We’ve had informers on his staff. We’ve had the press write negative articles. But he is unstoppable.’

‘No one is unstoppable,’ Bleulance said in almost a whisper.

‘Baron, sir,’ Joslin said, ‘you see, Haut was once a pastor of one of those American fundamentalist groups that take the bible literally. I mean literally. He is now not connected with any denomination. I know people who have worked for him. He is messianic in his zeal. No one can divert him from a vision he alleged he had at eighteen.’

‘I had one of those at eighteen,’ Bleulance said, deadpan. ‘She was eighteen at The Sorbonne and won the university beauty pageant.’

The others laughed for far longer than the quip merited.

‘What was this vision?’ Bleulance asked.

‘He claimed an old Aboriginal man directed him to a place to drill.’

‘So God is an Australian native,’ Bleulance commented.

The others overdid their appreciation of his remark once more.

‘Can’t you find a way to overcome someone as deranged as that?’

‘He’s weird,’ Patrice Daniel, a handsome, auburn-haired 45-year-old French woman and Conquer’s chief geologist, said. ‘I saw him speak at a conference in Hobart. He’s a real charmer. He is short, muscular and, while very Australian, somehow refined. The women flocked to him.’

‘Australian and refined? That’s an oxymoron,’ Joslin quipped.

‘Weird in what way?’ Bleulance asked.

‘He calls himself a prophet of nature,’ Daniel said.

‘Haut has profited from nature,’ Joslin chipped in.

‘How is he a prophet?’ Bleulance asked.

‘Oh, he says God directs his every move and that God does not make a move until he has informed his prophets first.’ Bleulance leant back in his chair again and motioned to de Cobb.

‘I think we should adjourn until after lunch,’ he said. Joslin and Daniel left the office. De Cobb stayed.

‘If you could push Haut out of the way,’ Bleulance continued, ‘could you gain control of the Tasmanian leases?’

‘There’s a good chance we could.’

‘Then deal with Haut.’

‘Not easy. He’s a slippery customer.’

Bleulance stared at the bigger man in a manner that chilled him.