‘Not a good analogy!’ Haut said. ‘If you publish something indicating Conquer’s accounting tactics, it might keep them off me.’ He paused and added, ‘On the other hand, they may become nastier.’

‘I’d like to pursue the story.’

‘You should. In the meantime, I’ve had to employ security.’

‘More problems?’

‘Yes,’ Haut said with a cynical chortle. ‘I’ve had some very direct threats from the current Tasmanian Mines Registrar, Denis Guy. That bastard secretly sent my core samples overseas to Conquer, which was illegal. That began their “interest” in buying me off, then destroying my operations.’

Haut outlined his meeting with Guy and Jonas.

‘Brazen!’ Cavalier commented.

‘The aim would be to put me in jail and then have me killed there. On top of that, I’ve had death threats: phone calls suggesting I depart the state before, quote, “you are carried out in a coffin”. I’ve employed Pinkerton security, after your recommendation.’

*

While Pinkerton was guarding Haut with round-the-clock protection at his Sandy Bay home, a gang of fourteen burglars broke into his Hobart office and went through all his filing cabinets, desk and computers. They were searching for one thing: a one-page document that was empty except for Haut’s signature.

This became the basis for a fraudulent letter that passed all Haut’s companies to another company. He learnt of the fraud on a Thursday afternoon when a contact at the stock exchange notified him of the letter. Haut rang Cavalier and explained the situation.

‘If this change of ownership is announced on Monday morning at the stock exchange and in the press, it could collapse my company’s price and ruin not just my oil and gas business but all my operations.’

‘Can you send me the original letter by special-delivery overnight courier? I can try to have friends in forensics go over it for you.’

‘I can get the letter. But it must be done by Sunday night!’

‘It’s doable.’

*

‘Piece of cake,’ Anthony Jones said, cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth as he examined the letter. Cavalier had couriered it to Jones in his Murrumbeena offices.

‘Go and have a coffee down the road next to the pharmacy, and come back in an hour.’

Cavalier did as instructed. Jones was a tech genius and whenever he said, ‘No worries!’, ‘Piece of cake’ or ‘Piss easy’ Cavalier knew he meant it. Jones had a bank of equipment that covered everything from weapons modifications to spectroscopy, and from chemical to physical analysis.