Cavalier’s MRI scan, according to the urologist, showed a fifty per cent chance that he had cancer of the prostate. He’d thought that his age, fifty-eight, precluded him having the disease, but two years earlier he’d been found to have high blood pressure and cholesterol. Cavalier had been in denial over the dangers of his diet of alcohol and more alcohol, which doctors had warned would lead to some sort of impairment and perhaps even an early grave.
The taxi pulled up at the hospital in East Melbourne at 6 a.m., which didn’t help Cavalier’s disposition. Early rising was anathema to him. On top of that, he was dealing with the shock of being fired. His mood was lifted a fraction by the receptionist knowing who he was.
‘I’ve seen your by-line,’ he said, ‘and I read your book on corruption in cricket.’
But this was dissipated by Cavalier having to change into patient garb—pink hat, blue booties, transparent plastic underpants and a gown. He sat glumly in the waiting room with three other patients, all female, until a nurse took him on a trolley into the operating theatre, where an anaesthetist questioned him.
‘Had any anaesthetic in the past decade?’
‘No.’
‘Any allergies?’
‘Only to antihistamines.’
‘What reaction did you have?’
‘Hallucinations.’
‘Could you describe them?’
‘Like taking LSD.’
‘You’ve had LSD?’
‘Yes, once; as a student.’
‘Hmmm. What was your last anaesthetic for?’
‘Had a bullet removed, about ten years ago.’
‘From where?’
Cavalier opened his gown to show a scar about three centimetres in diameter, just below heart level on his left side. There were three other scars of a similar size lower on his abdomen.
‘How’d you get those?’
‘Can’t say.’
‘Any lingering reaction?’
‘Distinct fear of guns and bullets.’
The anaesthetist looked over his glasses, seemingly unable to tell if Cavalier were joking. He injected him.
‘Just make sure I pull through without too much brain damage,’ Cavalier said as the anaesthetic took hold. He awoke an hour later, feeling as if he’d been unconscious for only a few seconds.
‘Always amazes me,’ he said to the bubbly nurse who bustled about monitoring several patients at once. ‘Is it over?’
‘At least you didn’t ask me if you were in heaven!’ she said, smiling.
‘You get that a lot when patients wake up?’
‘About half the males say it.’ She handed him a kidney dish. ‘You’ll be passing a lot of blood.’
Cavalier dressed and went to the bathroom. As promised, he passed a torrent of blood. The pain was excruciating. He felt faint. He sat on the toilet and blacked out, only coming to when a nurse hammered on the door. He opened it.
‘I nearly had someone break in,’ she said. ‘You were in there twenty minutes! What happened?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You have someone picking you up?’
‘A taxi.’
‘Will Martha Hodges be in it?’
‘What?’
The nurse pointed to a form. ‘She’s down as the person picking you up. You must be accompanied home by an adult.’
‘We split last week. Can you take me home?’
The nurse smiled fleetingly. ‘We can’t let you leave the hospital unaccompanied.’
Cavalier looked blank.
‘And you must have an adult stay with you overnight.’
‘In case I bleed to death?’
‘Something like that.’
His phone rang.
‘Jacinta, darling,’ he said, ‘could you pick me up and take me home? Just had a little operation and the hospital will imprison me if I don’t have anyone with me. Thanks so much,’ he went on, looking at his watch, ‘say, 11 a.m.?’ He rattled off the address, ended the call and smiled at the nurse. ‘Done!’
‘You have a lot of girlfriends?’
‘That was a . . . business acquaintance.’
Jacinta, wearing dark sunglasses and a navy-blue baseball cap, was waiting for him in a hire car when he walked out of the hospital.
‘Sorry about this,’ he said, embarrassed, ‘but you rang when I . . .’
She gestured for him to get in.
‘Why did you call me?’ he asked.
‘Mr Gregory suggested that I work with you.’
‘You don’t seem too pleased.’
‘I can see some advantage, if you publish what we want.’
‘Meaning?’
‘It would be more than useful to me if you were to help discover Labasta’s killer.’
‘Let me guess. You’re in trouble with the Thai police chief?’
Jacinta’s face clouded. ‘I get on very well with my chief,’ she said defensively.
They drove on in silence. Cavalier winced in pain. He fumbled in his satchel for a tablet, then swallowed it.
‘What’s that?’ she asked, seeing the small package marked ‘Endone’.
‘Painkiller.’
Cavalier downed another pill.
‘And that?’
‘Viagra.’
‘Why?’
‘Stiff neck.’
Jacinta looked confused.
‘No, not Viagra,’ he laughed ruefully, ‘Norfloxacin. An antibiotic. Standard now if you enter a hospital. Golden staph. So—what sort of things would you want me to write to flush out the killer?’
‘Flush . . .?’
‘You know, what would help expose her?’
‘Her?!’
‘I am for equal rights,’ he said deadpan. Jacinta didn’t react.
‘You told me you have contacts in the criminal world here,’ she said. ‘If you were to write an article with some facts we plant, we might receive more leads.’
‘I can’t do that. It would compromise my job . . .’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘The media here is independent of the police. If I do what you ask, I’ll be stepping over a line.’
No further words were exchanged until they were outside his terrace house. He thanked her for the ride.
‘Think about my offer, please,’ Jacinta said as he alighted gingerly from the car.
‘I already have,’ he said.
*
Cavalier never had any trouble with the lock on his front gate, which was in a high wooden fence, but it seemed to have been jemmied. He finally pushed it open and stepped into his front yard. He was hit with a glancing blow from behind and went down. He scrambled to his feet as four men wearing stocking masks came at him, brandishing weapons.
‘Writin’ crap about gang wars, are we?!’ one snarled as he swung a baseball bat, which caught Cavalier on the shoulder. The gate swung open. It was Jacinta, with his forgotten satchel.
She leapt in and punched one attacker hard in the face, stunning him. She then swivelled on one foot and kicked the man with the bat hard on the neck. He dropped the weapon, reached for his throat and gurgled in agony. Jacinta’s movements were so swift and agile, they could have been called balletic if not for the brutality she was inflicting. A third attacker pulled out a knife. He moved to stab Jacinta but she was too quick, chopping down hard on his forearm. The knife fell to the grass as she swung an elbow into his face.
The fourth man tried to escape. Cavalier blocked his path and grappled with him, allowing Jacinta to move close and use her elbow to strike the man in the face, putting a dent in his cheekbone. She slammed the damaged gate and rammed home the bolt, trapping the four assailants in the front garden. Only the first attacker, his face bloodied, seemed able to move freely. He reached for the knife on the ground, but Jacinta intercepted him, crushing her foot down on his left hand and causing him to cry out in pain. While he was distracted, Jacinta slipped the man’s right arm under her knee and rammed down hard enough to snap his forearm with a sickening crack!
The four injured assailants, now the assailed, lay crumpled. Having phoned Gregory, Jacinta took the baseball bat from Cavalier, picked up the knife and herded the injured men into a corner, ripping off their stocking masks. One of them stumbled for the gate, only to receive a one-two punch to the face and then a kick to the groin from Jacinta. He sank to his knees, a rush of air, rather than sound, coming from him. Without saying a word, she opened the gate and beckoned him to make another run for it, but he stayed in surrender on his knees. Minutes later, four police cars screamed around the corner and stopped outside. Eight cops piled out, weapons drawn.
Bob Grant, Gregory having alerted him, was leading the police response to the incident. Jacinta made a statement to the police and then took him aside. He approached Cavalier and inquired about his health.
‘I’m okay,’ he said, ‘one whack on the back, that’s all.’
‘I’m told you’ve just had surgery.’
‘Minor.’
‘Better get you to hospital,’ Grant said, signalling to an ambulance woman.
That afternoon, the four men were charged with assault with intent to cause grievous bodily harm. Lawyers for the Brunswick Gang swooped in to defend the thugs, arriving at Melbourne’s remand centre to find they’d been taken to hospital. One had a broken nose and eye socket; another, a broken nose; the third, a depressed fracture of the cheekbone; and the fourth, a broken forearm and three damaged fingers. All also had various bruises to other parts of their bodies.
One of the lawyers quipped, after examining the damage to his clients, ‘If you lot are on charges, it must be a case of “You oughta see the other guy.”’
None of the bandaged thugs responded.
A cop said quietly to the lawyer: ‘It was one Asian woman. And she hasn’t got a mark on her.’