‘Do whatever it costs,’ he said, ‘whatever it takes. If this overstatement of reserves ever gets out …’ Bleulance paused and shook his head. ‘You need to take control of those Tasmanian reserves for more reasons than one.’

‘I understand,’ de Cobb said, ‘and I agree with you. Tens of billions are at stake right now.’

‘Don’t let one God-bothering nobody stand in your way. Step up attacks on him. There is a knighted ex-Conquer executive in Hobart—’

‘Haut sacked him.’

‘You must have others you can influence in that Tasmanian government.’

‘He’s started capital raising. He’s using two well-known sportsmen in TV ads telling Tasmanians to put their money into his company shares.’

Bleulance thought for a moment.

‘Didn’t we put that repulsive female on our payroll?’

‘Ingrid Orangey, yes.’

‘She’s Mines Minister or something, isn’t she?’

‘They reckon she’ll be the next premier, the second female premier of Tasmania.’

‘Tell her to make a statement saying Haut’s operation is not going to produce oil and gas. That will put a dent in his capital raising.’

De Cobb nodded. Bleulance eased his chair around so that he was looking out of the window at the vibrant Champs-Élysées.

‘If that fails …’ Bleulance began and trailed off. ‘Even when you’ve succeeded in curtailing his capital raising, we must think about hiring others to help.’

29 FIRE, IRE AND MIRE

29

FIRE, IRE AND MIRE

Ingrid Orangey, her flaming hair coiffured for the occasion, called a press conference at her government office and read a statement to the assembled media.

‘Our professionals at Mineral Resources Tasmania tell me that Al Haut Minerals has not discovered oil and gas on Bruny Island or anywhere else in our state,’ the 45-year-old said. ‘So, as a government, we cannot, in all conscience, support this venture. Therefore the lease arrangement, which ends in a year, will be terminated.’

Orangey’s top lip began to break out in perspiration, which highlighted a dark shade that looked like a moustache, despite attempts to cover it with make-up. After the statement, she lifted her bulky frame from behind the desk and was about to totter off, like ‘a hippopotamus on high heels’, as one cheeky cartoon depicted. Orangey was stopped in her lumbering tracks by the media pack shifting in front of her and firing questions. Cavalier was at the rear, wearing a suit and tie.

‘This will break the company,’ he commented. He was attending the conference as a freelancer. ‘Is it right for a state government to interfere in the free market like this?’

Orangey glared and took a big breath to control her apparent indignation. Her red face flared and suggested early on-set high blood pressure, big drinking or both. Her look was comical below her fire-engine hair and not quite matching off-pink dress and maroon shoes. But her manner had no one laughing.